Lost Child

by Pleeai

Chap one reformatted! working on the rest. After witnessing his father's death, Ranma is sent on a quest to maintain family honor by Genma's dying words.

1. Default Chapter reformatted

Lost Child, Chapter 1

It was a glorious spring day in Kyoto. There were several street vendors doing good business as the noon hour approached. A middle-aged man in a white gi slowly approached one of the vendors closest to him and the edge of town.



Genma Soatome eyed a small postcard in his hand. The front had a picture of a Shinto shrine, and the back had a short message. It read, "Tendo, bringing Ranma. Be prepared. Genma". Genma stopped in the street and sighed softly, his brow furrowed in contemplation.

Silently, he considered. Is Ranma ready? Perhaps he's too young. If I wait a little longer, he'll be even stronger. After all, I've only had a little over two years with the boy.

Reaching a conclusion, he pocketed the small card. The boy was good, but not quite where Genma wanted him. With a glint of the food cart. determination in his eye, he slowly walked up behind the burly man running



At the edge of town was a small wooded area. In one of the trees closest to the town, Eight-year-old Ranma sat up high in the branches. His feet swung idly as he watched his father approach the vendor he'd chosen. It was an odd game that Pop had made up, but he told Ranma it was training.

That's what Ranma couldn't understand. Nobody in the world was as good a martial artist as his father, so why would Pop have to train? Ranma had wanted to go, but Pop claimed to have an urgent errand. Why couldn't Ranma help?

With a light shrug, Ranma turned back to his father. Pop knew best, usually, so Ranma would trust him.



Genma smiled as a young boy dressed in rags openly ran up and snatched some various food items from the cart. What luck! Genma waited until the man had nearly caught the urchin before carefully and quickly selecting supplies for him and the boy.

Genma, arms filled with food, smiled triumphantly and jogged away from the cart. He scanned the tree line for the spot where Ranma lay hidden. He smiled encouragingly when he caught the boy's eyes.

Ranma's smile faded into frightened shock suddenly, and Genma frowned. The boy waved wildly and Genma started to turn. There was a loud explosion and Genma was thrown forward. He hit the ground hard despite his years of training.



Ranma saw the gun in the vendor's hand and tried to get his father to turn around. When the shot echoed to him in the woods, he saw his father fall. Like a shot, Ranma was out of the tree and running. In moments, he was drawing his father's head into his lap.

Genma coughed and smiled. "Such a quick boy."

Ranma frowned and spoke softly, "Pop, don't worry. I'll get ya to the hospital."

Genma shook his head, wincing at the movement. "No time. Take this." Ranma accepted a piece of cardboard or thick paper without looking. "You are the heir to the school of Anything Goes."

"Sure Pop, but . . .."

"Quiet! Boy, to maintain your family's honor, I am giving you a quest of sorts. Go, and train just as hard as I have worked you. One day, when you

feel strong and invincible, take out this card. Study it until you find something new, and then train some more. Train until you no longer feel invincible."

"Sure Pop, whatever you say, but we gotta get you going."

"Promise me!"

Ranma met his father's stern and set gaze. He nodded sagely, "I promise."

"Boy—Son—I'm so very proud of you."

With that, Genma Soatome, one of the top martial artists in Japan, slipped into the cold arms of death.



A slightly older Ranma stood in the dirty streets of some nameless town in Japan. People

walked alone down the street, huddling into their coats and hats to keep from catching anyone's eye. Ranma stood tall and proud as he read the ad he'd ripped out of the paper he'd slept under the night before.

"Wanted," he read, "A bouncer for a small, privately owned bar. Must be tough, good pay, bad neighborhood. Apply immediately."

Ranma checked the ad and set his small features into the blank mask he always wore. With a small nod of self-encouragement, he crossed the muddy street. He pushed open the door and stepped inside.

He blinked rapidly to adjust his eyes, scanning the room quickly. A polished wood bar ran the length of one wall, and most of another. It was scarred and old, but shiny and clean. Racks of bottles and glasses were stacked behind the bar, and bare round tables were spread randomly in front of it.

A pair of old men glanced at Ranma before throwing coins on the table and rising to leave. They scowled at Ranma's torn gi. The gi reminded Ranma of the bar, scarred but clean. A large man entered from a door behind the bar. He met Ranma's eyes and smiled, grunting at his appearance. Ranma wondered what the grunt meant.

Softly but confidently, Ranma asked, "Are you the owner?"

"I am."

Ranma nodded and stepped closer to the bar as the man leaned against it. His white shirt with rolled up sleeves and the white apron over it stank of alcohol and vomit, but there were only a few light stains.

"My name's Ranma. I came about this." He handed over the wrinkled newspaper clipping.

The man glanced at the paper and scratched his thin brown hair. He looked back down at Ranma. "Your pop wants the job?"

"No sir, I do."

Pause, "Huh. Look kid, this is a tough neighborhood. If my boy didn't have school and homework, I'd just have him help out. He's a martial artist ya know. As it is, I need someone tougher than my clientele, which consists mostly of bums and street fighters."

Ranma's gaze was strong and steady. He barely blinked. "I'm strong. I'm a martial artist too."

"Don't ya got school?"

"No sir, have to support . . . the family." No sense in telling the man that Ranma was the family."

"A kid like you has to support the family? How's that?"

"My Pop was killed, Mom is . . . really sick." Dead could be considered sick. "I have to get food somehow."

The man studied Ranma for a long time before sighing and walking around the bar. He patted Ranma on the shoulder, surprising the boy by picking him up by the collar and carrying him to the door.

"Sorry kid, but I need someone pretty tough."

Ranma frowned and sent a sharp kick to the man's ribs. Several blows quickly followed it to the arm that held Ranma above the ground. Ranma rolled as he hit the ground, sending himself out the door. He came up in a ready stance, his face still blank.

The man frowned and rubbed his side with his good arm. The boy packed quite a punch, maybe even better than his son. "Tell ya what, you beat my son, and ya got the job."

Ranma stood and nodded. The man disappeared inside, reappearing quickly with an older boy. He looked about seventeen, and was probably a black belt. Ranma mentally smirked; this would be easy.

The boy looked at Ranma in disbelief. He turned and spoke quietly to his father before shaking his head and looking at Ranma. He shrugged and stood opposite Ranma, taking an offensive stance. Ranma nearly laughed and took a defensive one.

The kid immediately launched an attack, which Ranma wove through. A quick punch went flying toward the boy's cheek. The older boy saw four fingers rapidly approach his face. The next thing he saw was his bedroom ceiling.



Ranma twirled a small throwing knife in his left hand as he sat on a stool in the kitchen behind the bar. Ranma had been working for 'Boss' for nearly six months now. He'd lied and said that he was ten and a half when he was barely nine. He hated to lie, but who knew what would happen if they knew the truth?

The truth was quite sad and pathetic, actually. He lived alone (no ill mother, or parents period) in a small spot he'd found in an alley. The wall to an abandoned building had collapsed, revealing a small barren room with one locked interior door. Ranma didn't need any more space, so left the door.

Ma, Boss's wife, entered the kitchen and muttered about foolish husbands. She smiled and

waved to Ranma. "How about helping me dry some dishes?"

Ranma nodded and silently moved the stool closer to the sink. He sheathed the knife in the boot that Boss had bought for him. He now had jeans and T-shirts, several of each, which he wore when he wasn't practicing.



He picked up a cloth and accepted a glass from Ma that she'd just finished washing. He dried it quickly but thoroughly before putting it in the cabinet. He was on the fifth glass when he heard a light commotion in the bar. He nodded apologetically to Ma before going to the front room.



Five men were fighting it out halfway between the bar and the door. Ranma stood silently next to Boss before the man sighed and waved Ranma on. Ranma immediately jumped toward the small brawl. Several regulars elbowed each other for attention, passing money in bets.



The men weren't paying attention to him, so he knocked the legs from beneath the first man. The second got a punch to the back of the head. The third man frowned at him as he saw Ranma, and tried to punch the kid. Ranma dodged the untrained blow and got the man in the jaw.



Ranma now realized that the first three men and one of the remaining two had all been trying to subdue one considerably larger man. Ranma watched the big man send the fourth man flying, before squaring off against him in a ready stance.



The man was obviously used to fights, but not a martial artist. He smiled coldly at Ranma before trying to kick the small boy's stomach. Ranma jumped over the kick and sent a flying roundhouse into the man's face. The huge man rammed into the slightly ajar door, straining the hinges.



Ranma winced. If the door was damaged, it would come from his pay. As would the small chair the first man had landed on and smashed. Ranma nodded to Boss before going back to the kitchen. The crowd cheered loudly, some passing their winnings back and forth. Ranma ignored them, he'd gotten used to it by now, after all.



Ranma was sweeping the floor of the bar early one morning. He'd finished his katas early today, and had needed something to occupy his time. Normally, he didn't have to sweep. Ma did that after he put all the chairs flipped over on the tables.



He heard Boss enter, recognizing the heavy steps of the huge man. Ranma also heard Boss's son and daughter (twins) enter as he finished sweeping. He turned and nodded to the three of them. The kids cheerily said good morning and headed out the door to school.



Ranma turned to the kitchen to put up the broom. Boss stopped him by putting a hand to Ranma's shoulder. Ranma looked up blankly at the man.



"Ranma, don't you need a day off? I mean, you're here every morning before the kids are gone, and you don't leave until midnight or later."



"I'm fine. The fights mean that I don't have to train all day, and I don't have anything else to do."



"What about your mother? Who looks after her anyway?"



"Uh, a neighbor sits with her in exchange for part of my wages."



Boss frowned. That damnable emotionless face made it hard to tell if the boy was lying. Of course, it was always hard to tell anything about the boy. He nodded and waved the boy on, just as he heard the door open.



Ranma and Boss both turned to see who it was. Nobody ever came to the bar this early! Ranma

stared as a man with a blonde ponytail wearing a white suit stepped inside. He held the door open and scanned the room before stepping aside. Three more men in white suits entered before an older man in a black suit.



Ranma noticed that the Boss looked nervous, but said nothing. The man in black smirked at Boss before catching sight of Ranma. The man knelt in front of Ranma, his white-blonde hair sweeping over his shoulders. He had piercing black eyes and high cheekbones that gave his face a sharp look.



"Hello there son. What's your name?"



Without hesitation, "Ranma, sir."



The man smirked, sending chills down Ranma's backbone. Black stood and turned to Boss, who stepped up next to Ranma. With an intimidating smirk, Black spoke to Boss. "Good morning. How's business going?"



Boss kept his face mostly blank, but there was fear and a little curiosity sparkling in his eyes. "As well as can be expected. Your visit is a pleasant surprise, Mr. Nishiguchi. I hope you're not here on business. I was under the impression that my end of the deal was . . .."



Black, or Mr. Nishiguchi, held up a restraining hand. "Nonsense, you are paid in full for the moment. I was simply curious about your recent increase in business." His eyes shot quickly to Ranma and he smiled darkly. "I heard the strangest tales about a young martial artist that was defeating experienced street fighters."



Boss gave a small swallow and followed Nishiguchi's eyes to Ranma, who stood calmly at his

side. "Really? How interesting. I suppose you heard about my new bouncer then. Ranma, Why don't you go and finish up? You'll be late for school since you fiddled about so."



Ranma, keeping his face blank, looked up at Boss. Boss knew that Ranma hadn't been to school in a long, long time. He saw the tight smile that was so unlike the man's usual, cheerful expression. He nodded slowly and bowed to Mr. Nishiguchi, whoever the man was.

Ranma walked steadily to the kitchen. He closed the door and jumped to the closet. He jerked it open, being sure to keep it quiet. He grabbed the coat that had used to belong to Boss's son, Toma. He slipped on his shoes and reached for the knob of the door to the alley behind the bar.

The loud smack of skin against skin came to the young boy's ears. He stood stock still with his hand a mere inch from the knob. He slowly rotated his head to look at the door leading to the bar. The continued sounds of a one-way battle accosted his senses.

Confusion warred on his face. He must survive. Boss had been good to him. His face tensed with certainty and he jumped, flinging the door open. In the next instant, his fist collided with the face of the man holding Boss against the bar.

Boss and the man in white both collapsed. Ranma counted his blessings that the man in the suit had happened to be turned in the most suitable way to take the blow. Ranma was in a ready stance before the two men had completely fallen and stopped moving.

Nishiguchi was sitting in one of the booths, directly across from Ranma and next to the door. His legs crossed and one hand idly drawing invisible circles on the table, he seemed very relaxed. He glanced at the three remaining thugs. They smirked and advanced.



One picked up the broom that Ranma had lain aside earlier, brandishing it like a staff. Another pulled out a small club from his coat, while the last man pulled out a knife. Ranma didn't let his worry show. Instead, he leapt onto the bar with a quick jump straight into the air and backward.

He landed softly and the men smiled at the acrobatics, cold smiles. Ranma smirked and quirked an eyebrow playfully as he reached down behind the bar and pulled up a knife in his right hand. The men didn't look worried, but slowed their advance. Ranma's blank expression faded into a smile as cold as any one of theirs.



One of the men frowned at Ranma's confident smirk. With a slow movement, Ranma fanned the

seemingly single knife out to reveal four more in a fan-like motion. Now the men were not as confident as before, but Nishiguchi continued to chuckle.

The man with the broom had reached striking range thanks to his long weapon. He swung weakly with an untrained blow. Ranma jumped over the swing, throwing a knife at the man as he flipped toward the man with the club. The knife struck home in the man's shoulder and he fell to the ground, gasping in pain.

Ranma's spinning leap gave him plenty of momentum to extend one leg. His slight weight

wasn't a handicap as all that spinning movement collided with the thug's collarbone. Ranma landed behind the men and turned around quickly; releasing one of the knives at the man he'd just kicked. It must have hit a lung, and he fell quickly.



The third man came at him, knife sparkling in the light from the bar's clean windows. Ranma thought absently of Ma washing them the day before as he thrashed out with one of the three remaining knives. It missed by several inches, imbedding itself in the wooden bar.

Ranma jumped to the side as the man sliced the air where Ranma had been a moment ago. The man was obviously specialized with knives, and kept Ranma at bay easily with his one knife against Ranma's two.

With a snarled battle cry, Ranma lunged through the man's defenses. He dropped one knife as the man slashed Ranma's left wrist. Ranma drove his last knife into the man's ribs. Crimson blood rained down on the young boy's head, his arms still stretched up and holding the knife after the powerful thrust.

He released his hold on the blade and the man fell to the floor in a crumpled mess. He wove slightly for a moment before catching his weary balance and looking up. Nishiguchi grinned down at him from his seat in the booth. There was a small sound directly behind him.



Ranma belatedly realized that the first man, the one with the broom, must not have fainted after all.





There was a constant throbbing in Ranma's head and left hand. Not really pain, no, it was just an odd throbbing. He felt something cool and hard against his cheek and running down his stomach and legs, as if he were lying on something. He strained to drag his heavy lids open, wincing at the sharp pains the bright lights caused.



He clamped his eyes shut until the pain subsided, then squinted through his eyelashes. There was a long stretch of something white and sparkling before him. On top of that was a fuzzy collage of blue hues. Heaven? No, it was too hard to be heaven.

He gradually opened his eyes to reveal a large room with blue walls and hangings, and a shiny white marble floor. He pulled his arms beneath him and pushed himself up to stand. He felt his left arm give and sudden waves of pain pounded into the entire left side of his torso.

He grunted and fell back to the floor. There was a rustle behind him, but he was in too much pain to turn and see what caused it. A familiar voice gasped slightly in amusement.

"Ah! You're awake already? Marvelous!"



Ranma's eyes widened slightly and he pushed himself up with his right arm when the pain

lessened. He made it to his knees before turning to see Nishiguchi sitting in a white stone chair twenty feet away. The 'chair' was really more like a throne, carved from white marble and padded with blue velvet. It had to be eight feet tall.

Nishiguchi was wearing a black suit again, but it was different from the other one. Ranma stood and turned his body to face the man, never looking away from the man that had attacked Boss. He stood, feet apart and hands fisted at his sides, staring blankly at the man.



"Hello Ranma. Oh, that is your real name, isn't it?" Ranma nodded and the man smiled. Ranma didn't like that smile. "Good. So, do you have a last name?"



Ranma barely hesitated. "Soatome."



Tomo Nishiguchi filed that away until he could retrieve the boy's records. "A pleasure to meet you. I suppose you are wondering what's going on?"

Ranma shrugged, "Not really. It doesn't matter much. I made a stupid mistake in that fight, or I wouldn't be here at all."



"Too true. However, I believe our—relationship—will work to our mutual benefit. Don't worry about Boss and his family, by the way. They no longer wish to have you around anyway."

Ranma felt his cheek twitch and mentally scolded himself. Why wouldn't they want him back? Was the man lying? Did it matter? He hadn't improved much during his stay with the family, and he feared he was getting soft.



"Ranma, how would you like to work for me?"



"Doing what and how much does it pay?"



Tomo chuckled softly, "Smart boy, right to the point. After I've made sure that you've been suitably trained, you'll be a guard, of sorts, for me. The pay will be, more than substantial, and it will include all the special training I'll give you."

That perked Ranma up a bit. "Training?"

Another chuckle, "Yes. I can't have a guard if he hasn't fulfilled his potential, now can I? You'll stay here with me and my family, receive tutoring from my own son's private teacher, learn from the best martial arts masters, and earn more money than you could ever spend."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

Ranma contained an exasperated sigh, "Why me? I'm just a kid, surely you could find someone else."

Tomo had his reasons, but the boy couldn't know them without ruining the whole thing. "Part of the deal is that I must have a few secrets. You'll be well cared for, so what does it matter?"

"I don't need taken care of."

"Of course not. What I meant is that you'll have money, food, a roof over your head, and you'll be a marvelous martial artist."

Ranma ran through the options in his mind. Refuse, and he'd probably be killed. The fella seemed like some kind of mobster or something. However, if he accepted . . . What better way to assure his survival than by getting a job that will increase his training and make him rich to boot. Money was very important in survival, as his year penniless and alone had taught him.

"Sure, why not?"

"Head out that door. A woman waiting there will take care of you and get you settled in."

Ranma nodded and turned brusquely to the door he had barely noted earlier. He pushed the heavy and ornate white oak door open. He immediately stepped outside and pushed the door closed. A woman, about twentyish with short, stringy, pale lavender hair smiled at him. She wore a white blouse with a pink cameo at her throat and a soft brown skirt. She moved her stiletto clad foot with a soft click.

She'd been sitting in a chair across the hall from the room Ranma'd awoken in. She suddenly examined his appearance and frowned. Forcing a smile, she initiated conversation.

"Hello! You must be the boy that Mr. Nishiguchi is taking under his wing." At Ranma's nod, she continued. "What were you and Mr. Nishiguchi talking about for so long? I've been waiting out here for hours." She gestured at the book in her hand, a thick novel.

"I've only been awake for a couple minutes."

She blinked. "Were you asleep in there or something?"

Something like that, he thought, but simply nodded.

"Where? There's nothing in the audience room but marble and Mr. N's chair."

"On the floor."

She blinked and gave him a pitying look. "Anyway, my name is Saya Naomi."

Ranma accepted her offered hand and stated, "Ranma Soatome." He withdrew his hand as quickly as possible without being rude.

"Well, I'd planned on taking you straight to your room and putting up your things, but it looks like you need a bath first."

"What things?"

She smiled and held a hand up, palm facing out to Ranma. She let the hand drop limply and said, "Silly, They brought a whole bag of your things. See?" She gestured to the huge backpack he'd had since he left Kyoto and his father's body.

"Oh. I didn't know they brought my things."

"Now, follow me, and I'll take you to your rooms after a nice hot bath."

She turned and walked to the corner where his bag had been thrown. She grabbed the strap and tugged, expecting it to fling onto her shoulder. Instead, it barely moved. She blinked at it for a moment before frowning.

Ranma stepped around her, smiling apologetically as he took the strap from her hand. He pulled it easily to his shoulder, then stood there waiting for her to show him to the bathroom. She smiled and giggled uncomfortably before walking down the corridor.

They went up two flights of stairs and took a left. Ranma noticed that each floor consisted of a T shape of two corridors. The stairs were at the juncture of the two hallways, and a guard stood at the end of the three points. Each guard wore a white suit and had an earpiece connected to a long spiraling cord that disappeared somewhere in their jackets.

After walking for several minutes, Ms. Naomi stopped abruptly next to one of the many identical doors that filled the halls. She stood beside it and gestured grandly at it.

"Here's the bath. You have a good soak, and wait out here. I'll be back soon to take you to your room, but I want to make sure that it's already set up for you."

Ranma nodded and opened the door, thoroughly ignoring her. He found himself in a changing room that was all white. There wasn't a speck of color in the room aside from Ranma and his belongings. The sink, the walls and ceilings, and the floor were all a white stonewith sparkling chips imbedded into the polished surfaces.

Ranma opened the white door directly opposite the one he'd entered by. A large room was made completely from the same white stone. The sunken bath was closer to a small pool, and carved from the expensive marble material as well. There were two potted plants in the far corners, supplying the only color in either of the rooms.

Ranma was hoping for a way out, a window or something. The only window was six inches tall and ran the length of the far wall. He checked carefully, but it didn't open. He sighed and went back to the changing room. If he was stuck in a bathroom, he might as well take a bath.

After stripping out of his long sleeve shirt and jeans, he gave himself a nice, cold rinse and went back to the bath. He slipped into the pre-filled tub and sighed happily. It was very warm, the way he liked it. He soaked for several minutes, glad to be clean again. The blood and grime from his earlier battle at the bar now dirtied the once clean water.

He pulled himself from the water and padded back to the changing room. He flipped open the flap to his heavy canvas backpack. He immediately dug around and found the small metal box he kept important things in. After a quick inventory of the box's contents, he buried it once more.

He pulled out a white shirt and a torn pair of jean shorts. He dressed quickly and scanned his pack. He knew some of the things had been brought from his hideout in the alley. It seemed that Boss had followed him 'home' one day. Most of his clothes were in his cubby, but he took his pack to work every day. He kept his important valuables with him in case of an emergency.

He had the clothes he'd fought in, the ones he was currently wearing, and one extra set. There was a light jacket, a pair of kung fu slippers that weren't worn at all, and a baseball cap for an American team he didn't know, and gloves. Boss had added a small hankie with a little money, a small book that revealed phone numbers and addresses for people he didn't recognize.

Then there were his martial arts paraphernalia. He had several knives of various lengths and purposes. He had several throwing stars, but they weren't balanced quite right, and not the best quality. He had leather bracers, which he slipped on right then, and another pair that were weighted.

All in all, not bad considering that he hadn't packed himself. He was thankful that Boss allowed him to keep working, knowing that Ranma wasn't really supporting a sick mother. Ranma closed the pack and stepped into the hallway. Both guards glanced at him before looking straight ahead once more.

Ranma never glanced at either of them. He simply put one strap over his left shoulder, keeping his left hand on that strap and the right hand free. He stood patiently until shoes clicked softly on the stairs one flight above Ranma.

Ms. Naomi rounded the landing, and Ranma could now see her shoes. Her black clogs with flat soles flopped against the bottom of her heels as she lifted each foot and put on a lower step. Soon, a black knee-length skirt was revealed, followed by a lavender blouse with a small oval broach with a pink and white cameo.

She smiled approvingly when she saw him waiting and waved. As she got closer, she gasped in horror. She knelt before him and lightly brushed a finger across his wounds. His long sleeves and pants had hidden all of the minor cuts and bruises from his brawl in the bar. Now they were revealed in all their glory.

"Ranma, how did you get so many cuts and abrasions? These look fresh."

"They are. I fought some of Mr. Nishiguchi's men this morning."

Her head shot up and she blinked in disbelief. "YOU fought some of his men? You're only a child!"

He shrugged his left shoulder, the pack rising slightly. "There were only four of them. I didn't quite knock the first one out, and forgot about him, or he wouldn't have gotten me."

"So you got him down and turned away, then he attacked you in the back?"

"No, I threw a knife in his shoulder and he fell. He shut up after a few minutes, and I thought he was out cold. I took care of the other three, and had just finished them when the guy got up and got me from behind then."

Ranma nearly lost his blank expression to an amused smirk. Ms. Naomi gaped at him for several long minutes and the stoic guards actually glanced between each other and Ranma.

Ranma glanced to the stairs Ms. Naomi had come down. "Is that where my room is?"

Ms. Naomi looked over her shoulder then back to Ranma and stood. "Y—yes. Follow me, Ranma."

They went upstairs and turned left. They stopped at the second door, with one other door past his on either side of the hallway. The hallway ended with a guard posted in front of a window. Ms. Naomi glanced at her watch.

"It's three now. Dinner's at six thirty, so I'll be back then to pick you up. Do you have anything . . . nicer than those?"

Ranma glanced down at his clothes and back to her, his face remaining expressionless. "You mean clean and without rips?" She nodded. "Nope. I only have one other set of clothes in the bag, and they're pretty much the same."

She sighed. "Then put your bag in the room. We're going shopping."



Ranma sighed and contained his urge to fidget. Ms. Naomi flipped through display after display of nearly identical shirts. Occasionally she would hold one up to him, but she generally ignored him. He passed his time by running through some mental exercises, but he'd gone through everything he knew at least twice in the last two hours.

He stopped his exercise and turned to the window. The car they'd arrived in was parked on the curb. It was a shiny white limo with all kinds of luxury items inside. Ranma had acted all cool and calm when he'd seen the car and been told to hop in. That had changed when he saw the television, refrigerator, laptop, and cellphone.

Ms. Naomi had chuckled and pointed everything out to him. Ranma turned to study the older woman. She was very nice, and extremely smart. When Ranma told her a brief version of his story, she'd asked about his travels. Ranma would mention everything from major landmarks to little-known attractions. She'd seen or heard of most of them.

She finally held up half a dozen shirts of varying styles. Most of them were white, but there were some other colors as well. He looked at the red shirt on the display next to him. He smiled softly and reached out to finger the soft material. He realized that the entire display was of Chinese clothing.

Ms. Naomi turned to ask if there was anything else he liked, and saw him smiling at the shirt. She smiled and held a finger up to make the clerk wait. The man knew Ms. Naomi, since she brought her other charge here often. Ms. Naomi walked over to Ranma and smiled down at him softly.

"Do you like Chinese style clothing? We can get you some, if you like."

Ranma looked up at her, then turned to the stack of clothing on the counter. "It looks like you've already gotten plenty. I've never owned that many shirts in my life."

"But you do like them?"

He nodded, "Yes, but—"

"Perfect!" She pulled up the smallest of the shirts and held it next to him. It was made of brilliant scarlet satin with long sleeves and golden frog closures. She'd heard that foreign styles were going to be big this year, and the style somehow suited Ranma.

She also grabbed a pair of black pants and added them to the stack on the counter. After they paid for their purchases, Ranma grabbed the bags. Ms. Naomi always tried to grab the bags (this was the fourth store they'd been to today), but Ranma always ended up carrying them.

As soon as they were outside, Ranma headed over to the limo. Ms. Naomi placed a light hand on his shoulder and shook her head.

"No, there's one store just down there I want to go to first."

Ranma nodded and followed. He walked next to the street, since Ms. Naomi seemed to enjoy the window displays. They passed a couple stores and an alley when something felt wrong to Ranma. He heard a shriek and dropped the bag. A dozen gang members were pouring out of the alley and surrounding Ms. Naomi and himself.

Ranma pulled roughly on her arm and she flew behind him. She crawled backwards and yelled at him, "Run, Ranma!"

When the first man moved, Ranma attacked. In a flurry of kicks and punches, the men went down. One had had some serious training with a knife, and managed to slice up Ranma's shirt. He didn't break skin, however, and Ranma made sure the man regretted ruining the shirt.

When all the men were out cold, Ranma turned to the bag of clothes on the sidewalk. Surrounding people in the crowd applauded, but Ranma ignored them. He'd become immune to applause at the bar. He reached into the bag and pulled out the top shirt. He studied the red satin briefly before changing into it.

As soon as he was in the new shirt, Ranma turned and helped Ms. Naomi to her feet. She'd crawled over to a mailbox at some point in the fight, and had been huddling there. She stared at him in awe.

"Ranma, how?"

He looked steadily into her eyes. "I'm a martial artist Ms. Naomi. That's why Nishiguchi wants me so bad. He attacked the man that's looked after me for the past year in order to get me. He's going to train me to be a bodyguard or something."

"Oh Ranma." She hugged him close just as the chauffeur from the limo showed up. She knew he was also a fighter. She was the only one employed by Nishiguchi that didn't have some fighting skills. She was thankful for the quiet boy that had been brought to her. If only she could break that calm façade . . .



Ranma was sent to his room to get ready for dinner as soon as he and Ms. Naomi returned. He closed the door firmly behind him and looked around. Although the room had beautiful paneled walls of a deep cherry and a matching dresser and canopy bed, that was all there was. The room was downright empty.

It was also large. If he moved the bed to one corner and the dresser to another, he'd have plenty of room for his morning workouts. His bedchamber was larger than the bar had been, and he also had his own sitting room and an elaborate bathroom. Ms. Nishiguchi said that the water to his bathroom had a leaky pipe, and that's why he'd taken his bath in the guest's bath.

Ranma shrugged at his abrupt leap in living quarters. His closet here was larger than his cubby in the alley where he'd lived for over six months. Ranma took his new clothes and put them in the walk-in closet.

On a whim, he pushed the dresser in there as well. That gave him more room to workout in his room. He was shocked when he saw all the clothes that had been purchased for him. Why would anyone need so many shirts? He now had more pairs of shoes than days in the week, and hecouldn't see the point in half of them.

He shrugged and tried to decide what to wear. Since he was already in the Chinese shirt, why not go for the whole outfit? He was still wearing the jeans that Boss had sent with him, and they were all torn and bloody. He hoped it would be alright to wear that outfit, since he knew nothing of social etiquette.

Now in clean clothes, he wandered through his rooms. The bathroom and sitting room were to the right when you entered the bedroom from the hall. The closet was farthest from the interior of the house, running along the outside wall of the house. The bathroom was in the middle of the three, and basically a smaller version of the one he'd bathed in earlier that day.

The sitting room was the most interesting. It could be entered from his bedroom or the hallway. It had a fireplace made of that white marble that was so prevalent in the house, and was paneled in the same cherry as his bedroom. There was a painting over the mantle of a Chinese vase containing roses. There were a dozen white rose buds and a single black rose that was centered and blooming in the arrangement.

All in all, the painting disturbed Ranma. He turned to look at the furniture. Antique black and white pinstriped couches and a pair of white wingback chairs were scattered about, with a few small tables as well. There was an odd cabinet on one wall, and Ranma examined it.

The top half opened to reveal a television, and the bottom half had a large selection of alcohol. He had no great fondness for either, and closed both once more. He scanned the room and went back to his bedroom and through it to the bathroom. He studied his reflection.

He was clean and dressed in satin. Aside from a messy ponytail, he would be able to pass as a spoiled rich kid. Deciding he might as well take care of the hair part, he braided it tightly. He looked at himself again. Definitely a spoiled rich kid appearance.

There was a knock on his door and he headed through his room to meet Ms. Naomi.



Nishiguchi sat at the head of the table, Ranma and Ms. Naomi to either side. Nishiguchi had spent the meal telling Ranma his class schedule with Ms. Naomi and describing the many 'great places Ranma would enjoy here'. Ranma nodded at the appropriate places, only perking up near the end.

"I've arranged for you to have an audience with a good friend of mine tomorrow. He's a Kempo Master that will be training you for awhile."

Kempo? How disappointing! Ranma was hoping for something new. Oh well, he was a master. "Where and when will I meet the honored master?"

Nishiguchi chuckled, "Why, in my private dojo of course. My son is a talented martial artist and insisted on having a dojo. You'll go behind the house tomorrow at seven. You can't miss the dojo. It's the only outbuilding made in the traditional Japanese style."

Ranma nodded slowly in thought. "May I go tonight to see it?"

"You may go anywhere you wish, boy! You live here now!"

Ranma smiled in anticipation.



Two hours before dawn, Ranma was getting out of bed. He went through his new clothes, discovering a distinct lack of outfits suitable for martial arts. He finally settled on the Chinese clothes, since they allowed more movement. He rolled the sleeves up and tied the ankles of the pants to keep them from flapping around during practice.

He did a few quick stretches before a couple quick katas. He had hours yet before he was

scheduled to meet this master. Why were they starting so late? Ranma figured it was to give

Ranma time to get warmed up, and headed outside. He began his workout with a jog.

He lapped the house several times before spotting a large, walled in space. He hopped onto the twelve-foot wall and scanned the interior happily. It was an intricate garden with paths and streams with little bridges. In fact, it was a perfect place to train!

Ranma jumped from the wall and took off down one path. He hopped onto a statue's head and then jumped over the stream to a cluster of several small trees. He swung around on branches before launching himself down another path. He used an arbor for chin-ups, some tunnel of latticework for monkey bars, and the railings on the bridges for balance. He nearly lost track of the time.

He had decided not to go all out and save energy for the workout with the master he was to train under. Not even breathing hard, he arrived at the personal dojo that was situated oddly behind the large mansion. It didn't seem to fit in with the European Tudor style architecture, but Ranma didn't care. He hadn't practiced in a real dojo in a long while.

He stepped inside and immediately saw the man. He was somewhere in his late thirties or early forties with a short beard and wearing a gi. The two bowed to each other before the man introduced himself.

"Greetings young one. I am Master Chou, and I'll be training you for a while. Tell me, do you know much Kempo?"

Ranma nodded and sat on the floor across from Master Chou as the man gestured. "Yes, Master. I am heir to the Soatome School of Anything Goes, which is based mostly on Kempo."

The man seemed surprised and nodded. "Excellent. Why don't you show me what you know?"

That evening, Master Chou approached Mr. Nishiguchi. He stated that the boy needed no training from the likes of such a feeble old man, only guidance and discipline. The two men conversed until Master Chou left to teach an evening class at the dojo that was sponsoring his stay in the area.

For three months, Chou taught Ranma how to discipline the mind and spirit to achieve perfect calm in the direst circumstances. From there, they moved onto minor Ki manipulation, which was all the man knew. He hinted that there were greater goals that Ranma should search for, but revealed little.

After three short and happy months, Chou said farewell to his student, asking that Ranma seek him out in the years to come. Ranma received directions to the man's school in China and swore to visit one day. From then on, the masters became stricter and more difficult to impress.



Ranma finished his workout in the dojo and wiped

the sweat from his brow. He appears older, around

eleven, and it doesn't seem like his year of

undernourishment after his father's death has done

any harm. He is tall and muscular for his age, wide

shoulders filling the gi well.

He straightens and turns to leave. An eighteen-

year-old boy is leaning against the doorway of the

dojo, apparently observing Ranma's training. Ranma

has, of course, known of the boy's presence, but

simply bows respectfully.

The boy is Jaxom Nishiguchi, Ranma's boss's son. He is much older than Ranma, with long silver hair tied in a loose ponytail. He has a narrow face that is nearly pretty rather than handsome, and his father's piercing gaze. He had been away for the first few months of Ranma's stay here, living away at a prestigious school.

"Master Jaxom." Ranma starts to walk past.

"Hold." Ranma stops, but keeps his blank gaze straight ahead. "I've been training. Perhaps you would like a spar?"

Ranma nearly groaned. The older boy often trained, but not as diligently as Ranma. He maybe spent two days a week in the dojo, whereas Ranma was up before the sun each day to train before breakfast and in the dojo every evening after dinner as well.

"If you wish, Master Jaxom."

They squared off in the center of the dojo. Ranma waited until Jaxom attacked before taking a stance. He dodged all the blows, not even moving his fists. After several minutes, he threw a single punch.

Jaxom flew into the wall, cracking the expensive paneling. Ranma jogged over to help the boy up, but Jaxom slapped his hand away. He stood by pushing himself up with one hand, the other hand holding his eye.

Ranma winced. He should have held the punch more. Jaxom could make Ranma's life miserable if he had a black eye staining his good looks. Ranma apologized profusely, but Jaxom simply turned and left the room. When the room was empty, Ranma smirked. Jaxom was quite possible the most annoying soul in Ranma's life.



Ranma and Ms. Naomi were walking down the street early one morning. He was reciting his lessons while she did some shopping. She insisted that this area had the street vendors with the best and freshest produce, so they usually came here. Ranma was working his way through the particulars of some obscure laws of physics when he stopped next to a familiar face.

"Ucchan?" He smiled at the brown haired youth working the booth.

Startled eyes blinked up at him for a moment. "Ranchan? Is it really you?"

"Yeah! I haven't seen you in ages! When was it we last played together? It's been forever! What are you up to?" He grasped the smaller youth by the shoulders.

Ucchan blinked, "I've been looking for you."



It was nearly an hour before Ranma stopped apologizing. Ucchan sadly laid a hand on his. "It's alright. It was a misunderstanding. We've obviously both changed a lot."

Ranma smiled brightly and she couldn't resist doing the same. Saya looked between the two children with a worried expression. She glanced down at her watch and blinked.

"Oh dear. Ranma, go fetch the driver, will you? I'll keep your little friend company for now."

Ranma was the epitome of a disappointed child. He looked over at his childhood friend. He'd known her because she'd gone to school near where Boss's kids had gone. They'd met pretty regularly to play. He sighed. "I gotta go now Ucchan. Why don't you come visit me sometime, if you can. Ms. Naomi can give you the address."

With her excited nod, he ran off to fetch the driver and have the car brought around. Ms. Naomi smiled and knelt down to the child's level. Ucchan blinked once in confusion.

"Ukyo, do you know who the Tokyo roses are?"



Ukyo waved sadly as her best friend ever drove away. Ms. Naomi had said that Ranma was with the gangsters that had killed her father. It wasn't his fault, and he didn't want to be there, but Ms. Naomi thought it would be better if Ukyo didn't come visit Ranma. She said it would be dangerous and it wasn't wise for such a talented child to come to the attention of Mr. Nishiguchi.

Ukyo remembered asking her father if she could marry Ranma. He'd told her to ask the boy and his parents. Ukyo had skipped happily off to where she was supposed to meet Ranma for their spar. He hadn't shown up, and now Ukyo knew why. Ms. Naomi said that it must have been right after The Black Rose kidnapped Ranma.

He sad frown turned determined. With clenched fists she made a vow. One day Ranma would be free of the Tokyo Roses. Then Ukyo would find him again.



Ranma nibbled lightly on his steak. He hadn't eaten much at all in the last week, but he had his reasons. He would convince Ms. Naomi to take him to the mall tomorrow, where he could eat all the junk he wanted at the food court.

"Ranma." His head jerked up as Nishiguchi said his name.

"Yes, Mr. Nishiguchi?"

"Have you been studying the information I gave you last month?"

"Of course, Mr. Nishiguchi."

"Good. Come to my office tomorrow morning at nine."

"Yes, Mr. Nishiguchi."

Ms. Naomi looked warily between the two men. This meant trouble.



Ranma sat patiently next to Nishiguchi's secretary the next morning at two minutes 'til nine. She smiled encouragingly at him every so often, but otherwise ignored him. The small gray box on the corner of her desk beeped, and she pressed a button.

"Yes, sir?"

"Send the boy in."

"Yes sir."

She waved him in with a smile, and Ranma got up and walked to the heavy double doors. He knew that they were actually steel with wood on the outside, but that was for Nishiguchi's protection. He pushed on the doors and they opened easily for someone his size, closing them behind him. He stood there, waiting for Nishiguchi to tell him to approach.

"Come boy, sit." He waved to the padded leather chair before his large wooden desk.

Ranma sat silently, waiting.

"For the past two years, I've given you the best tutors and superb martial arts training. It is time you paid me back."

"Yes sir."

"Are you willing to work for me, as you promised, as a bodyguard?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. You say you studied the police procedures I gave you, so now you will be given over to train under one of my men. You will work with him and my other guards on whatever jobs I assign them until you are ready to go out on your own. Understood?"

"Yes sir."



The next year passed quickly for Ranma. As the best fighter on the complex, it was his job to see to the training of Nishiguchi's men when he wasn't learning himself. He learned many important things. Particularly how to be a mobster. He hated every minute of the threatening and beating, but at least he wasn't the one being beat for a change.

He was becoming well known to the upper class of Tokyo and its many wards as the White Dragon. He was a twelve-year-old in a white suit that could kill a man in a single swipe, unarmed. Ranma wasn't crazy about the tailored suits that restricted movement, but they were Nishiguchi's trademarks.

On the lapel of each suit was a very small ring of embroidered roses. The white buds were tiny and delicate, with a large, fully bloomed black rose on the 'top' of the round design. Ranma understood the significance of his white suits and Nishiguchi's black ones.

He'd learned that soon after seeing the odd attire of Nishiguchi and his men when they brought Ranma from the bar. Ms. Naomi said that Nishiguchi never wore anything but black, and his men almost always wore white on the job. They only wore something else if they were undercover, and still they had to have the black rose emblem on their person.

Ranma was going to dinner at that very moment. He maneuvered the intricate halls with ease, nodding to the guards he knew. He entered the dining room and nodded to Ms. Naomi. She smiled softly in return as Ranma sat to Nishiguchi's left.

Jaxom, to his father's right, glared. He'd lost to Ranma once again that morning, and had a black eye and a small scratch on his cheek to prove it. They began immediately on their meal, each silent.

A few minutes later, Nishiguchi got Ranma's attention. "Ranma, I want you to begin packing. I'm sending you to the states to work on a business acquisition of mine there. You leave tomorrow evening, and will be there indefinitely. Pack appropriately."

"Yes sir."

Ranma picked at the delicacy on his plate. He rarely ate much at dinner anymore. He hadn't since the night Ms. Naomi got sick and the serving girl gave Ranma her plate by accident. He had noticed a distinct difference from how the particular course usually tasted then.

"But tomorrow morning I have a quick job for you to do. The file will be waiting outside your chamber door."

"Yes sir."

Ms. Naomi rested her fork on the side of the plate and didn't eat anything the rest of the evening.



Ranma had found the new assignment . . .

disturbing. It was far simpler than what he'd been

given lately. As soon as he'd been taught

subterfuge and secrecy, he'd been sent out as an

assassin for Nishiguchi. Since then, he'd taken out

several naughty mobsters and corrupt politicians.

This latest job was stupidly simple. A young man with no important features or ties owed a business friend of Nishiguchi's a gambling debt. It wasn't even seven figures. Ranma wondered why that pidly amount was worthy of the man's death,but decided he didn't care.

He had been given a list of the target's haunts, and glanced at his watch. Lunch time. Time for the White Dragon to head to the café at the top of the list.



Ranma entered and scanned the room. The man behind the counter was one of the many business owners that paid protection fees to Nishiguchi, and seemed frightened by Ranma's white suit. In the fancy clothes and shades, Ranma appeared older than he was. His height helped, so few noticed the oddly dressed youth.

It proved true once more, because the target didn't even look up. He ate a sandwich and fries slowly, so Ranma ordered coffee. He didn't even sip it, waiting patiently until the man got up and headed for the cash register. As the target walked past, Ranma reached back and hit a pressure point.

He caught the slightly larger man and threw him over his shoulder. He threw some money on the counter; more than enough for both orders. He mentally made a note that if he ever ordered something to give his presence legitimacy, at least make it something he liked. Ranma hated coffee.

Two hours later, the man was in a shallow grave tucked into the countryside outside Tokyo.

Ranma hefted his bags. He had several suits and an equal number of his preferred Chinese outfits stashed into the larger bags. He was also bringing weapons, files, and other items essential to his 'job'. He withheld a sigh. One day, he'd be free.

He had just arrived in New York City, and was carrying his baggage into the penthouse suite that Nishiguchi kept for his infrequent stays in the states. He quickly stowed his things away in the suite's closets and pulled out the files he'd been sent with.

Most of his targets couldn't be taken care of until he'd approached them, and several weren't expected back in the country for several weeks, if not months. After reading each file and arranging them in some sort of chronological order, he went to bed. This was going to be a long stay away from home.



Ranma stepped out of the taxi. He'd been sent to several of Nishiguchi's foreign businesses over the last two and a half years. He'd regretted his recent stay in Korea, but now he'd been told that he could return as soon as he was ready. He'd left that evening.

He had ordered most of his baggage to be sent later and grabbed the one bag he felt would be most essential for the night. He paid the taxi and punched in the security code he'd been assigned years ago. Nearly fifteen now, it was hard to believe how fast things had happened.

He walked up the drive and pushed the front door open. Four guards were stationed just inside the doors, and they immediately pounced on him. As he hit their pressure points, he noticed that he'd never seen any of them. Had Nishiguchi gone through so many men in two short years?

He propped his bag against the door and left the guards piled in the entryway, setting out to Nishiguchi's office. He smiled and waved to the secretary, one employee hadn't changed at least. She returned the smile and waved him over, bringing a silencing finger to her lips.

As Ranma reached her desk, she said, "It's good to see you again! Mr. Nishiguchi is on the phone with someone very important, but he should be done soon."

"That's fine. I can wait."

At that moment, the doors swung in toward Nishiguchi's office as the man stepped out. He caught Ranma's eye with surprise before grinning. As he spoke, he sent a glance to the outer door that led to the hallway.

"Ranma my boy! I'm glad you made it so quickly. I need to see you in the office. Hold my calls." The last statement was sent to the overworked secretary, who nodded briefly.

"Yes sir."

Ranma followed Nishiguchi into his office, closing the doors. He looked at them critically for a moment. "Sir? I would recommend changing the hinges on these doors. If someone tried to break in, it would be easier to charge them if they opened the direction that they were heading."

Nishiguchi looked at the doors in shock. "You know, I never thought of that. I'll take care of it immediately. Now Ranma, I lost a lot of my men recently. I've replaced their numbers, but few have any decent training. I'd like you to start teaching them in small clusters tomorrow."

"Yes sir. I'll arrange lists with your secretary when I leave."

"Good. I also need you to take care of a few things within the week. They'll probably be dark jobs."

Ranma nodded, working was always easier at night. "Of course, sir." He accepted the files and glanced at the names. They were all three politicians.

"Now, how were your travels?"

"The states were dull, actually. There weren't any real challenges, and the jobs were over before schedule. Mexico was brief, I was only there for a week. Which is probably good, since I don't speak any Spanish. Vietnam and Europe were better, and took a little longer than Mexico. China and Korea were pretty fun, actually."

"Fun?" He wondered at that, since the boy was sent there to kill people.

"Not the work, the time I spent between jobs. Some of the targets were on vacation or out of the country on work, so I had to wait for them to return. While I did, I sought out some martial artists and learned a few tricks."

"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. Oh, Jaxom requested a spar as soon as you arrived. Would you mind?"

"Of course not. I should probably get unpacked first though. How about after dinner?"

"Fine. He's out at the moment anyway, if I'm remembering correctly. Well, I have things to do. I'll see you at dinner."

"Of course, sir."

Ranma stood and left the office. He divided the lists of new guards into workable classes and set up a schedule for them to arrive at the dojo. After a couple classes, he'd divide them up by skill. Until then, this would do. Business over with, Ranma sought out Ms. Naomi.



Saya was sitting on one of the benches in the walled garden. She had little to do with Ranma away and Jaxom in college. She wondered why she was still on the payroll, but didn't question the way of things. When she'd signed on all those years ago, it was strictly stated that she should never question Mr. Nishiguchi.

As it was, Saya was frightened. She didn't know what Mr. Nishiguchi did, but she knew it was illegal. She hoped she wasn't doing anything wrong by staying here, but she was afraid to leave. She was rarely out of the compound, and hardly ever without a guard.

Lord Jaxom was the really frightening part. He'd approached her on several occasions in the last couple of months, and it was hard to avoid him, even in the extensive space of Mr. Nishiguchi's land. She tried her best, but wished Ranma would arrive soon.

She smiled softly. Ranma was her pride and joy. She thought of him as a nephew or the son of a dear friend. He was so sweet, and in a position rather similar to hers. She knew he feared leaving, but never would he admit to any weakness. He was so prideful!

She smiled expectantly. Mr. Nishiguchi said that Ranma would be returning soon, and Saya couldn't wait for her favorite student to return. She was looking at the book in her hand and smiling when there was suddenly a presence beside her. She looked up with a gasp, which turned to a smile.

"Ranma! When did you return?" She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly.

"Just a few minutes ago. I threw my bags in my room and came to find you."

She pulled back and smiled. "I didn't expect you so soon! Would you like to go shopping with me this afternoon? We have so much to catch up on!"

Ranma saw the warning glint in her eye and the careful wording. He nodded slowly. "Of course! I'm free until dinner, and we have a few hours."

"Let's go then."

They headed for the garage, and Ranma hopped into the driver seat of a shiny red convertible. "Come on! I learned several great things on my travels." He wiggled an eyebrow and grinned. Saya couldn't help but laugh. It was so good to have him back.



Saya pulled the credit card from her purse and handed it to the cashier. It was standard procedure for all of Mr. Nishiguchi's top employees to have a credit card with an extreme limit. Ranma had several cards himself, which had been given to him soon after his initial arrival all those years ago.

They gathered their purchases and found seats in the park near the stores they'd just shopped at. Ranma sat down with a worried look.

"Now, what have I missed?"

She chewed her lip, wringing her hands in her lap before reaching up to play with her cameo brooch. "Oh Ranma! It's awful. Nearly everybody except for you, the maids, Mr. Nishiguchi's secretary, and me have been replaced. He knew you were coming home soon, but didn't tell anyone but Jaxom and me."

"I'm surprised you weren't attacked when you showed up on the grounds! In fact, I'd almost say that was the idea."

He nodded sagely, "I was attacked, but I went through the front door where there are less guards. I noticed that none of them were familiar."

"It all started right after you left. Mr. Nishiguchi put Jaxom over the guards, and Lord Jaxom changed their training. We started losing guards because of stupid mistakes. He would send weak guards on some jobs, and not enough on the really tough ones."

"But why? Why didn't Nishiguchi say anything?"

"Because it was on purpose! I heard him one day telling Lord Jaxom to speed it up, that they still had too many original guards and not much more time. They said that 'He' was too rebellious, and it would be tough to get rid of 'Him' with so many of 'His' friends still here."

"And you think I'm 'Him'?"

"I'm sure of it! Everything you taught the guards about honor and restraint, Lord Jaxom taught the opposite. Stressing survival and making sure the job was done quickly and thoroughly."

"Anything else?"

"Yes. I think I'm followed when I leave the house. Not by Mr. Nishiguchi's men, they're always right there with me. Someone else trails us. I don't think the guards know though, because they never say anything."

Police? Government? Who else would trail an employee of Tokyo's king of crime? He'd be careful. "I did notice a presence, but it left halfway through our shopping. I have a sparring match with Jaxom tonight. Maybe they'll try something then."

"Oh no, I don't think so. You've always been better than Lord Jaxom has and they know it. They'll have to get a lot of guards together to beat you."

Ranma wasn't really worried. The guards hadn't had any serious training from Jaxom, or he wouldn't have gotten through the guards so easily that afternoon. He looked up at Ms. Naomi, who was staring at him in worry.

If anything happened, he was worried about her. If Ranma tried to get her away before he was attacked (it wasn't a matter of if, Nishiguchi was getting senile and Jaxom obviously had more control. Everyone knew Jaxom was jealous of Ranma.), They would be hunted twice as hard and she'd be in danger. If he tried to get her out after he attacked, they'd be even angrier with him, and it would be worse.

The only option was to hope that they didn't realize what she meant to him and left her alone. Now Ranma was worried.



Ranma swirled his wine. It was good, but he was careful not to drink too much. Nishiguchi cleared his throat.

"Ranma? When is your first class tomorrow?"

Jaxom frowned, glaring evilly at Ranma. Ranma ignored him, "Nine. I see no need in changing the work shifts you already have them on."

"Meet me in my office at eight then." Ranma nodded, and noticed that Nishiguchi sent Jaxom a warning look. Jaxom smirked and picked up his glass, swirling his own wine just as Ranma had.



Ranma had phoned the airport and requested that his baggage be held there until tomorrow, when he'd pick it up. He went through the things he had with him. He had one suit and several of his Chinese outfits. He pulled out an all black set of the Chinese silk and laid it out for the next day.

He was proficient with quite a few weapons, but still preferred unarmed combat. He chose to leave all his weapons behind. He wore his watch, but tore it apart to be sure there were no tracking devices. Secure in that, he put it back together.

He went to the dojo, but was told by a guard that Jaxom begged off of their spar. It seemed Lord Jaxom had a headache. Ranma returned to his room. He'd already checked the room for bugs and cameras, so he went to sleep. He expected a long day ahead of him.



Ranma rose before dawn the next day and went through his usual exercises in the dojo and garden. Checking his watch, he saw that it was nearly eight. He jogged to the house, taking a slow pace to the door to Nishiguchi's office. He'd been careful not to tax himself that morning, only warming up.

He reached for the ornate knob. The door to the office was strangely locked. Ranma frowned at that, jiggling it once again. Nishiguchi had always entered his office at seven in the morning on the dot. It was never locked except for when Nishiguchi ate lunch. Was the man taking later hours than he used to?

Ranma leaned cautiously against the wall beside the door. He pulled one leg up, holding the knee in both hands as he thought. Would it be now? He forced himself to keep his face neutral. No, this was far too obvious. He'd simply wait for Nishiguchi or his secretary to come open the door.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on his latest mental exercises. He felt energy flowing around him, and patiently identified each type. He could feel the solidity of the marble floor, and the slickness of the wooden banister to the stairs at the other end of the hall.

Then there was a moving energy. It was a rapid, unnatural movement of steel, and Ranma's eyes shot open. He allowed his supporting leg to drop from beneath him, holding the other leg up still. As he hit the floor, he put the bent leg down and crossed it over the straight one. As he stood, he turned to let his legs uncross. This also gave him the convenient chance to observe his attacker.

Or attackers, as the case was. A gray suit disappeared around the corner as thirty or so white suited guards suddenly converged in the hallway. Ranma leapt into action, dodging attacks and launching his own.



Nishiguchi sat behind his desk. His office was empty aside from himself. He watched a monitor as the best guards under his employ swallowed the image of Ranma. As the boy disappeared from sight, Nishiguchi turned the monitor off.

He pulled a yellow folder toward him, the tab in the top left reading 'Soatome, Ranma'. He opened it and flipped through a few pages. With a sigh he dropped it into the designer tin trashcan beside his desk and stood.

He walked over to a seemingly empty wall and flipped a switch. A panel slid aside to reveal a bar. He reached in and pulled out a cigar box. He took a book of matches from the box and walked over to the trashcan.

He sighed and looked at the open file inside. The front flap had opened as the pile of papers fell in, revealing a photo of a younger Ranma.

"Sorry boy, but you didn't work out. You did what you were ordered to do, but nothing else. You should have been the most loyal of my people, but I read your basic personality all wrong. I couldn't trust you." Nishiguchi shook his head and lit a match. He moved the match slowly over the can.

Suddenly the doors to his office flew in. The fact that they flew inward shocked Nishiguchi more than anything else. They just weren't supposed to move that way anymore since he'd heeded Ranma's warning and ordered the hinges changed last night. He dropped the match as he saw Ranma in the doorway. The huge double doors were barely hanging by their hinges as Ranma stood there, glowing softly.

Glowing? That was Nishiguchi's last thought before he was consumed painfully by a dark and everlasting night.



Ranma was dazed as he stumbled off the grounds. He'd fought every guard he'd come across on his way out, but never saw Jaxom. He made it to the street and happened to see a taxi approaching. Ranma made it there in one leap and hopped inside. He told the man to drive to a hotel that was outside Nishiguchi's most loyal territory.

He was thankful that he still had his wallet, and paid the man. He paid for a room for the night and phoned the airport. His baggage arrived within the hour, and Ranma sighed. It was over. He'd be out of the country within the next few days.

He decided he needed to wind down and go for a walk. He thought there was a small park nearby, and headed out. He strolled through the park, but found himself too jumpy. He sat heavily in a park bench that faced the street. He knew he had to do something. If Jaxom went unchecked, Ranma would be looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life.

He brought his head up and found himself staring at a phone booth. A slow smile formed and he was up like a shot. He walked to the crosswalk and waited patiently for the traffic cop to wave him forward. Ranma thanked the man as he passed, getting an odd look from the man.

Ranma ducked into the booth and phoned the police.



Chad glared at the assembly of policemen in front of him. They'd basically told him that Nishiguchi had escaped their grasp once more. He sighed and waved them out. He jerked his head up as a rookie ran into the swinging doors.

"Sir! We just had an anonymous report about Nishiguchi!"

"Finally! Trace the call!"

"Done sir!"

"Then send someone there to find the informant. Every other available cop is to head to Nishiguchi's! We finally have an excuse!"



The raid went surprisingly well. They simply drove up and stormed the place. They found nearly thirty men unconscious in the entry hall, and immediately made enough positive id's to justify their presence. When Jaxom Nishiguchi ran in demanding an explanation, he was arrested for harboring wanted criminals.

Chad was overseeing Jaxom's deposit into the back of a cruiser when an officer approached him with a phone.

"Sir? The call was made from a phone booth. A traffic cop on the corner reports an odd young man in black foreign looking clothes made a short call there at the appropriate time. He's young, in his teens, with blue or gray eyes and black hair in a braided pigtail. The same man is now sitting on a park bench across the street."

"Order the man watched for now, but nothing more."

"Yes sir!"

Another officer came up to him from a room off the main hallway. "Sir? I think you need to see this."

Chad turned and entered the room. They passed the empty desk and approached a set of doors that had been knocked from their hinges. Chad glanced at them and was about to order them studied when he saw a body, specifically the black and blue broken corpse of Nishiguchi, A.K.A. Black Nishiguchi. Chad knelt next to the man, not bothering to look for a pulse.

"That's not all sir." The man pointed to a trashcan. Inside lay a file folder that was overflowing with papers and reports. On top of a photo was a burnt match, light singe marks surrounding it. The charred spot was just below the chin of a young teen with black hair tied in a pigtail.

"Get that traffic cop on the phone, now!"



Ranma smiled softly as the traffic cop glanced at him again. He'd been doing it for several minutes, but was trying to look discreet. Ranma shook his head and stood. Just then, the cop looked worried and glanced over his shoulder. Ranma nearly swore.

He realized that the one cop wasn't alone after all as several cruisers suddenly raced around the corner. Officers on foot seemed to come from nowhere, and Ranma realized that they'd used the back entrances to the stores across the street.

He heard a familiar whooshing sound and smelled a bitter smoke. He cursed as he turned toward the park's interior. There were other cops there, and they were the ones shooting the gas. It just happened to be a gas that Ranma hadn't worked up immunity to yet. He glanced around and found cops surrounding him.

He'd just gotten free, and wasn't about to do something stupid like going to jail. Attacking a cop wouldn't help. He jumped into the large tree directly above him. He immediately realized his mistake as his feet touched the limb.

The thick foliage had acted as an umbrella, concentrating the gas as it rose. He was now completely surrounded by the poison and getting woozy with no place to go. He felt his limbs go weak as he prepared to jump to another tree, but the dark emptiness of unconsciousness slammed into him before he could do anything.



One week later, Chad stepped into the elevator that a police officer was holding for him. He nodded and the young woman pressed a button. The doors closed and Chad felt himself rising. He flipped through the file in his hands. The entire thing, as thick as it was, was devoted to one Ranma Soatome.

It contained government records as well as those that Nishiguchi had supplied accidentally. It made Chad's job much easier. The elevator stopped and Chad stepped out without even looking up. He walked down the long and empty corridor, stopping at the last room on the right.

He showed the officer his id and submitted to a retina scan. Then he punched in the code on the keypad by the door and slid a card through the slot. The door unlocked with a click and Chad opened it.

He closed it behind himself, not looking away from the profiled body in the hospital bed before him. A young boy of fourteen lay there in the dark, windowless room, barely breathing. This young child was the dreaded White Dragon? He wasn't old enough to drive!

"I know what you're thinking."

Chad jerked ever so slightly. He would have sworn that the boy was asleep.

"You're wondering how this little boy could be a killer, right?"

Chad sat in the chair next to the bed. "Actually, no. We have enough evidence against you. Besides, you have quite a reputation. Some say you're invincible."

Ranma snorted. "You know better than that."

"Oh, do I?"

Ranma finally opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Chad skeptically. "Oh, please. I've been forced to study police procedure since I was eleven. Before you came in here, you knew everything that is known about me; including medical records of every scar and broken bone. Up to and including the one that was never set." He turned his head to watch the ceiling once more.

Chad chuckled. "Touché."

"So, which are you?"

"Which what?"

"Are you a cop or a lawyer? If you're my court appointed lawyer, I don't need one. I'll pay for my own."

"Who said you needed a lawyer? I haven't read you your rights."

"So you're a cop."

"You could say that. As to the other, if you do need a lawyer, how do you plan on paying for it? All your wages from Mr. Nishiguchi will of course be confiscated."

"I have my own money. I've entered a few tournaments and such over the years."

"Ah, how interesting."

"Yeah, sure. So, if I'm not under arrest yet, why not tone down the restraints?"

Chad glanced down the length of Ranma's body. He had several black straps over his ankles, wrists, knees, calves, waist, chest, and neck.

"Just because you aren't under arrest doesn't

mean you aren't a dangerous suspect."

Ranma snorted again. "Point. Now care to explain the guards?"

He shrugged, "In case the restraints fail."

"Ahh. So all hospitals are equipped with restraints and video cameras in the flower vases?"

Chad's eyes whipped to the vase and back. How'd he know?

"Don't worry, I figured it out that I'm not in a regular hospital. I've been keeping track of the time mentally. I've only seen one doctor in the last day and a half, and she either works three or four consecutive shifts, or she's the only one allowed to see me."

"You're right, this isn't a hospital. Would you care to answer a few questions?"

"Sure, I ain't got nowhere to go."

"How'd you like Korea?"

"Work or pleasure?"

"Work of course, pertaining to the ambassador specifically."

Ranma frowned. "Poor man. He was good and honest."

"Then why'd you kill him?"

"Survival above all else, that's how I live. If I didn't do as Nishiguchi asked, I'd be killed. If I ran, I'd spend my life looking back."

"So you did kill the ambassador?"

"Of course. Probably all the others you wanna ask about, too."

"Should I just read the list?"

Ranma winced and sat for several minutes without speaking. Finally, he murmured, "I'll testify. Against Nishiguchi, you know."

Chad smirked, "Trying to reduce your sentence?"

Ranma turned back to look at him again, a disapproving look on his face. "Of course not! What good would it do? Reducing the sentence by a few lifetimes won't help. I'll probably just be executed anyway." If I didn't plan on escaping that is.

"That easy huh? You'll just testify as a good deed?"

Ranma nodded as much as he could with a two-inch nylon strap under his chin. "On one condition, maybe two. I would like someone to look out for Ms. Naomi, and I would like to get some compensation to Boss. They helped me out a lot."

Chad looked down at Ranma oddly, recognizing the 'Boss' as the bar owner Ranma'd worked for some time ago. "You don't know?"

"Know what?"

"It seems that Nishiguchi kidnapped Boss's daughter and tortured her to make sure that you never tried to leave and Boss never attempted to get you back."

Ranma clamped his eyes shut. That's what Nishiguchi had meant. He'd said that Boss didn't want him back, that he'd made sure of it. Now it was clear. He let out a shaky breath.

"How is she?"

"She was returned a year and a half after you went with Nishiguchi. They think she'll walk again."

Ranma winced. It was his fault, all his fault. "Is Ms. Naomi alright?"

Chad nodded, "She says she was threatened to stay by Jaxom years ago, subtly. She never did anything illegal, and there are several witnesses to that, so she's free to go. She gets to keep all the wages she earned over the years."

"Good. I hope I get to see her again."

"Tell me Ranma, is that why you stayed? Did you feel threatened?"

"They never came out and said it, no. When I first came to Nishiguchi, he told me how he hated it when people didn't pay off their debts. He repeated that a lot over the years. When he told me one day that it was time I paid him back for my room, food, and training that he'd given me, I understood."

Ranma looked back to Chad, smiling sadly, "After all, I've spent the last three and a half years killing people that owed Nishiguchi 'debts'."

"Was that your job?"

"Of course. I took the dangerous cases. If they were rich and powerful with a lot of guards, they sent me. It was better than sending a whole party of guards that would be killed or caught for questioning."

"But you did feel threatened?"

"Well, yeah, but I'm not using that as an excuse. I could have left anytime I wanted. It just would have been dangerous and delaying the inevitable that one of the Whites found me unaware."

The boy was honorable after all. "Ranma, I'd like to make a proposition."