What is Weakness?
A Ranma ½ fanfiction by Selene Starblade
Disclaimer: Insert disclaimer here.
Chapter Two: Lost and. Lost again. //////////////////////////WARNINGWARNINGWARNINGWARNINGWARNING/////////////// /////////////////////////// Attempted rape in this chapter. These sorts of things do happen in the world, and I'm not going to sugar-coat things, okay? I will have clearly marked the point where the fight degenerates into a beating and where the rape attempt ends. If you wish not to read that section, I will not be offended. @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
Ranma took a couple of steps back, looked up, and gulped. This was VERY Not Good.
The large, hairy, heavily pierced punk leered down at the diminutive redhead. "Well, what have we here? Looks like a tasty little package we've caught here, boys!" He licked his lips, hands flexing.
The four heavily pierced punks at one end of the alley laughed, while the three at the other end shuffled forward. They all wore identical leers, teeth bared in hideous parody of grins.
Ranma looked around herself, and discovered, to her dismay, that 'Not Good' was a sorely inadequate expression.
The quartet scooted forward, as the head punk reached out for her.
Ranma reacted instantly, practically skimming to one side, out of the way of the stumbling grope. Automatically, she shifted into a low Kung Fu stance emphasizing speed and motion. She would have to try to. to. ::shudder:: run away. Something she had never been good at, much less liked.
The flabby bald member of the trio watched Ranma with little piggy eyes. "She's a fast one, man! This is gonna be fun!" As he grinned wider, his mouth seemed to sink into his flabby cheeks. He stepped forwards with the other two in his group, the flab in his belly rolling his leather jacket disturbingly. As they passed a group of garbage cans, the three spread their formation, to fill the alleyway on that side.
Ranma acquired a sense of creeping doom. Several shivers tried to go up her spine, met the ones coming down, and stopped, the impact causing a full- body tremor.
One of the quartet, wielding a baseball bat, stepped forwards, as the other three spread out slightly to cover the gap. He stepped forwards.
"Here, man, lemme give ya a hand!"
The head punk nodded, making another lunge at the swift redhead, who dodged. Without even a moment's thought, she hopped over the swinging bat, lashing out and landing a foot in the face of its wielder.
Spinning the rest of the way around she landed, and was struck in the back of the head with the bat, sent flying into the wall. Her forehead impacted the brick with a loud 'krak', and colors flashed through her vision as she fell to the ground. That had HURT.
As Ranma staggered to her feet, one hand rubbing the back of her head, the bat-user guffawed.
"Haw! She's fast, but that's it! She ain't got no kick!" He laughed again at his bad joke, mouth wide open. "Haw! Haw! Haw!"
The hairy punk chuckled. "Even better. We're gonna have some fun tonight! Hahahaha!" He cracked his knuckles, watching the leader and the bat- wielder closing in on the unsteady redhead.
Ranma brought herself up to a ready stance as the two sets of three punks closed in further, reducing the area between them to a ten-foot stretch of alley. She ignored the bit of blood on her left hand where she'd touched her head, and the thin trickle running down the back of her neck.
"It'll take more than a bunch a' punks ta bring me down." She snarled, eyes flashing. Maybe she could frighten them off?
The leader sneered. "Oh, so ya got some fight, do ya. I still say ya ain't gonna stop us!"
Ignoring the distraction, Ranma ducked a swing of the bat, somersaulting backwards between the bald punk's legs, popping up into a standing position. To her intense disgust, one of the punks behind her immediately reached out to try and grope her, as she was in reach. She spun, dodging back, and caught the bat in the side of her head again. Staggering and clutching her head, she headed in what she hoped was an open direction, soon finding herself against a brick wall.
She leaned on the wall with one hand, still clutching her head with the other, and cracked open her eyes to glare at the two approaching punks. It was definitely time to get out of here. Her instincts for head-on fights weren't right for someone with no straight-out power. She was just getting creamed. The fact that one of her opponents was using a heavy iron bat wasn't helping.
The two punks closed in towards her from either side, charging at her with bat and fist ready.
Dashing past the two approaching, she headed for the opposite wall of the alley. Just before reaching it, she started to turn, intending to use the wall to run sideways over the head of the nearest punk.
It would have worked just fine if she hadn't slipped on a piece of garbage and slammed bodily into the wall of the alley. Stumbling back and cursing, she maneuvered out of grope range of the guy with the green mohawk, turning to face the leader and the bald guy with the bat. Her right arm hurt, it felt like she'd twisted her ankle, and her head gave her the impression it had been caught in a vise.
The bald punk snorted. "Not bad. She's still goin'."
The leader leered again. "Great. We can have a lot of fun with 'er before she stops bein' any good."
The punks blocking the alley arced around behind the leader and bat- wielder, closing onna-Ranma off in a semicircle against one wall of the alley. They all began to chuckle, off-key with each other, producing a disturbing echo-effect.
In a last-ditch effort, Ranma launched herself at the leader, landing punches and kicks to all of his vital areas in a constant whirlwind of motion. While the blows themselves were having little effect, her sheer speed was making it difficult for the leader to hit her, as his unfailingly dodged blows attested.
Ranma was wearing out, however, and she knew it. The twinge in one ankle wasn't good, either- she had twisted it after all when she slammed into the wall that last time. After maybe a minute, the leader finally managed to strike her in the side with a wild swing.
(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((BREAK OFF HERE)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
Ranma staggered back, limping slightly, breathing heavily, and drenched in her own sweat. The punks stared and drooled at her heaving chest..
Not for the first time, Ranma wondered why her cursed form had to be so. healthy.
The arc closed gradually, the leader heading straight for her. Ranma backed away, until she found she couldn't anymore- her back was to the wall. Her pupils shrank as the reality of the situation began to sink in.
As the gang leader stepped up to her, Ranma's innate instinct to flee and her heavily ingrained fighting instinct went to war.
The upshot of this was that, when he reached out and held her chin with his thumb and forefinger, all she could do was remain stock-still.
He chuckled evilly. "You're mine now, bitch. And there ain't nothing you can do about it."
He reached forward and grabbed her breast with the other hand, mashing the soft flesh. "You got too much spirit. I'm gonna hafta break it."
And with that, the hand that had been holding Ranma's chin pulled back and slammed into the side of her face, sending her sprawling.
A thin trickle of blood running from the right side of her mouth, Ranma got to her hands and knees.
The instinct to flee won out, and she staggered to her feet again, calling on her body to go beyond its own limits. Careening forwards, she tried to dive between two of the punks, only to be caught in the chin by a vicious clothesline. She sprawled backwards into a garbage can, slamming her head into it hard enough to leave an impression. Groaning, she rolled over, and began trying desperately to crawl away from the gang leader, only to find herself face to knee with one of the other punks. The punk pulled back and kicked her, driving his foot into her stomach and sending the small redhead flying back, to land on her back out near the gang leader again.
The leader crouched over the coughing redhead, and reached one hand out to caress the side of her face.
"Now, dolly, there's two ways we can do this. You can let us do what we want, and we'll let ya live- where we can keep ya, of course- or, we can beat ya inta it."
"Bite me." Ranma spat out between coughs, then began choking as the leader clamped his hand around her throat, lifting her off the ground.
"Bad choice." He snarled, as she scrabbled ineffectively at his fingers. Hauling back, he swung her around, slamming her back into the wall. Unable to make a sound with her air cut off, Ranma simply continued to choke until he let go.
She slumped down against the wall, gasping for air as the leader watched. "I don't think ya get it. You're mine. You're gonna do as I say. I c'n be pretty reasonable if ya do what I want." He punctuated the sentence by kicking her in the gut again.
Ranma retaliated by evacuating her lunch on his boot. For this body, the limits to the damage she could take were a lot lower, and the blows to her head had already left her nauseous.
The leader glared at her as he shook the vomit off of his boot. "Boys, soften 'er up. I gotta go clean off my Martens."
Two of the punks grabbed Ranma by the arms, using them to pin her against the wall, while a third stepped up, cracking his knuckles.
Ranma's world exploded in pain as the third punk pummeled her, driving his brass-knuckled fists into her belly and occasionally punching her legs as well. Before too long, she was spitting up blood with each blow to her badly bruised abdomen. Her vision began to swim, and just as she thought her body was about to give out and slip into unconsciousness, the beating stopped. The first two punks let go of her arms and she slumped to the ground again, falling over on her side, clutching her abused stomach.
She groaned in agony. Something inside had given way, she was sure there was internal bleeding. She needed. the word escaped her dizzy mind. For a few moments, she was allowed rest.
Things began to seem slightly clearer, and she started crawling to get away again. Then there was a heavy and her ankle broke.
Ranma finally cried out in pain as the punk ground his booted foot down on her ankle, pinning her in place.
"Big man don't like it when 'is girl tries to get away."
Said punk stepped back up to the group again, his boots wet from cleaning. "Good, ya kept 'er busy."
The boot lifted off Ranma's ankle, but she just lay there in pain and exhaustion. The head punk crouched down and flipped her over, then leered again. "An' ya didn't mess up her face, either. Good, boys. I think I'll let ya all have a shot at 'er after I'm done. Now, make sure we ain't bothered, kay?"
The other punks nodded and headed to the ends of the alley to watch for intruders.
The gang leader rubbed the side of Ranma's face with one hand. "Now, my name's Big. Got that? You call me 'master'. Now, let's see what ya got ta offer me, huh?"
With that, he ripped open Ranma's shirt, the semi-conscious redhead failing to respond.
"Whoa, mamma! I was sure those were fake. I like ya, Red. I like ya. No bra, even. Yer real nice ta master, ain'tcha?"
Ranma whimpered as he mauled her left breast with one hand, cruelly twisting the soft orb, while yanking her pants and boxers off.
"Heh. Nach'ral hair, too. We're gonna have a lot of fun together, you and URK"
Beaten, semi-conscious, and mostly nude, Ranma stared up through blurry vision at a familiar face.
((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((START AGAIN HERE)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
******
Ryooga was still lost when he heard a scream of pain. Before it died down, he whirled and headed in that direction.
He was a martial artist, it was his duty to help those in need. Many would- be muggers and robbers had a great fear of umbrella-wielding fighters.
Besides, that voice had sounded somewhat familiar.
Within moments, he found himself at the entry to an alley. Three leather- clad punks, all larger than himself, were blocking off the alley.
Ryooga glared at them. "Let me through."
The fattest one snorted. "Or what? You'll protect us from the rain with yer little parasol?"
All three of the other punks began to laugh.
None of them finished their laugh. Nor would they for quite some time. Being run over by a Hibiki was rather akin to being mowed down by a Mack truck.
******
Ryooga reached the middle of the alley just in time to see a badly beaten redhead being stripped by a fifth punk.
Hold the phone, said his mind, redhead???
With a single swing of his battle umbrella, the head punk found himself pasted, almost smeared, on the opposite wall of the alley. With a soft groan, he fell away from the wall, unconscious even before his head hit the concrete.
Crouching down and focusing hard on the fact that this was Ranma, Ryooga managed to not suffer a nosebleed as he pulled Ranma's pants and shirt carefully back into place. Just as he stood up, a fist impacted the back of his head, to what (to the punk) was surprisingly little effect. Well, aside from the punk's hand breaking. The remaining three backed off slowly. The boy hadn't even seemed to notice the attack.
The attacker screamed in pain, clutching at his now-useless right hand. That had been like punching concrete. He groaned then, curling his other arm about his injury.
Ryooga turned to the three punks standing in awe, and the fourth clutching his broken hand.
To the three actually looking at him, he seemed to take on a faintly blue cast.
"DIE."
There was no argument. But there WAS plenty of screaming.
******
Ryooga looked around at all of the trees. At least they weren't near the alley and the comatose, silent company within it, though where exactly they WERE, he wasn't sure of. Then again, that was a state he was used to.
The leader would, of course, be the worst off. When he woke up, that is. IF he woke up.
Despite all his bellowing, Ryooga knew he wouldn't ever actually kill someone. He may have been into eye-for-an-eye, but honor didn't allow for murder.
Crippling, however, was fair game.
Eventually coming to a place clear enough for a campsite, Ryoga laid the unconscious, female Ranma down, and began searching the surrounding trees for suitable stuff to make a splint. Ranma was going to need it.
**************************************************************************** **********
Yep, this thing's back. I hope you don't mind.
Wait, what am I saying? If you did, you just wouldn't read it, anyways.
Ah, well. Anyways, it's back, and it's here to stay. I'm working on all of this stuff at once, so expect progress to be fairly slow, if consistent.
As to the person who commented on Ryooga's initial response to this whole thing last time I had this up, yeah, I agree that it seems more like Ryooga this way. Thanks for the comment.
Disclaimer: Insert disclaimer here.
Chapter Two: Lost and. Lost again. //////////////////////////WARNINGWARNINGWARNINGWARNINGWARNING/////////////// /////////////////////////// Attempted rape in this chapter. These sorts of things do happen in the world, and I'm not going to sugar-coat things, okay? I will have clearly marked the point where the fight degenerates into a beating and where the rape attempt ends. If you wish not to read that section, I will not be offended. @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
Ranma took a couple of steps back, looked up, and gulped. This was VERY Not Good.
The large, hairy, heavily pierced punk leered down at the diminutive redhead. "Well, what have we here? Looks like a tasty little package we've caught here, boys!" He licked his lips, hands flexing.
The four heavily pierced punks at one end of the alley laughed, while the three at the other end shuffled forward. They all wore identical leers, teeth bared in hideous parody of grins.
Ranma looked around herself, and discovered, to her dismay, that 'Not Good' was a sorely inadequate expression.
The quartet scooted forward, as the head punk reached out for her.
Ranma reacted instantly, practically skimming to one side, out of the way of the stumbling grope. Automatically, she shifted into a low Kung Fu stance emphasizing speed and motion. She would have to try to. to. ::shudder:: run away. Something she had never been good at, much less liked.
The flabby bald member of the trio watched Ranma with little piggy eyes. "She's a fast one, man! This is gonna be fun!" As he grinned wider, his mouth seemed to sink into his flabby cheeks. He stepped forwards with the other two in his group, the flab in his belly rolling his leather jacket disturbingly. As they passed a group of garbage cans, the three spread their formation, to fill the alleyway on that side.
Ranma acquired a sense of creeping doom. Several shivers tried to go up her spine, met the ones coming down, and stopped, the impact causing a full- body tremor.
One of the quartet, wielding a baseball bat, stepped forwards, as the other three spread out slightly to cover the gap. He stepped forwards.
"Here, man, lemme give ya a hand!"
The head punk nodded, making another lunge at the swift redhead, who dodged. Without even a moment's thought, she hopped over the swinging bat, lashing out and landing a foot in the face of its wielder.
Spinning the rest of the way around she landed, and was struck in the back of the head with the bat, sent flying into the wall. Her forehead impacted the brick with a loud 'krak', and colors flashed through her vision as she fell to the ground. That had HURT.
As Ranma staggered to her feet, one hand rubbing the back of her head, the bat-user guffawed.
"Haw! She's fast, but that's it! She ain't got no kick!" He laughed again at his bad joke, mouth wide open. "Haw! Haw! Haw!"
The hairy punk chuckled. "Even better. We're gonna have some fun tonight! Hahahaha!" He cracked his knuckles, watching the leader and the bat- wielder closing in on the unsteady redhead.
Ranma brought herself up to a ready stance as the two sets of three punks closed in further, reducing the area between them to a ten-foot stretch of alley. She ignored the bit of blood on her left hand where she'd touched her head, and the thin trickle running down the back of her neck.
"It'll take more than a bunch a' punks ta bring me down." She snarled, eyes flashing. Maybe she could frighten them off?
The leader sneered. "Oh, so ya got some fight, do ya. I still say ya ain't gonna stop us!"
Ignoring the distraction, Ranma ducked a swing of the bat, somersaulting backwards between the bald punk's legs, popping up into a standing position. To her intense disgust, one of the punks behind her immediately reached out to try and grope her, as she was in reach. She spun, dodging back, and caught the bat in the side of her head again. Staggering and clutching her head, she headed in what she hoped was an open direction, soon finding herself against a brick wall.
She leaned on the wall with one hand, still clutching her head with the other, and cracked open her eyes to glare at the two approaching punks. It was definitely time to get out of here. Her instincts for head-on fights weren't right for someone with no straight-out power. She was just getting creamed. The fact that one of her opponents was using a heavy iron bat wasn't helping.
The two punks closed in towards her from either side, charging at her with bat and fist ready.
Dashing past the two approaching, she headed for the opposite wall of the alley. Just before reaching it, she started to turn, intending to use the wall to run sideways over the head of the nearest punk.
It would have worked just fine if she hadn't slipped on a piece of garbage and slammed bodily into the wall of the alley. Stumbling back and cursing, she maneuvered out of grope range of the guy with the green mohawk, turning to face the leader and the bald guy with the bat. Her right arm hurt, it felt like she'd twisted her ankle, and her head gave her the impression it had been caught in a vise.
The bald punk snorted. "Not bad. She's still goin'."
The leader leered again. "Great. We can have a lot of fun with 'er before she stops bein' any good."
The punks blocking the alley arced around behind the leader and bat- wielder, closing onna-Ranma off in a semicircle against one wall of the alley. They all began to chuckle, off-key with each other, producing a disturbing echo-effect.
In a last-ditch effort, Ranma launched herself at the leader, landing punches and kicks to all of his vital areas in a constant whirlwind of motion. While the blows themselves were having little effect, her sheer speed was making it difficult for the leader to hit her, as his unfailingly dodged blows attested.
Ranma was wearing out, however, and she knew it. The twinge in one ankle wasn't good, either- she had twisted it after all when she slammed into the wall that last time. After maybe a minute, the leader finally managed to strike her in the side with a wild swing.
(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((BREAK OFF HERE)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
Ranma staggered back, limping slightly, breathing heavily, and drenched in her own sweat. The punks stared and drooled at her heaving chest..
Not for the first time, Ranma wondered why her cursed form had to be so. healthy.
The arc closed gradually, the leader heading straight for her. Ranma backed away, until she found she couldn't anymore- her back was to the wall. Her pupils shrank as the reality of the situation began to sink in.
As the gang leader stepped up to her, Ranma's innate instinct to flee and her heavily ingrained fighting instinct went to war.
The upshot of this was that, when he reached out and held her chin with his thumb and forefinger, all she could do was remain stock-still.
He chuckled evilly. "You're mine now, bitch. And there ain't nothing you can do about it."
He reached forward and grabbed her breast with the other hand, mashing the soft flesh. "You got too much spirit. I'm gonna hafta break it."
And with that, the hand that had been holding Ranma's chin pulled back and slammed into the side of her face, sending her sprawling.
A thin trickle of blood running from the right side of her mouth, Ranma got to her hands and knees.
The instinct to flee won out, and she staggered to her feet again, calling on her body to go beyond its own limits. Careening forwards, she tried to dive between two of the punks, only to be caught in the chin by a vicious clothesline. She sprawled backwards into a garbage can, slamming her head into it hard enough to leave an impression. Groaning, she rolled over, and began trying desperately to crawl away from the gang leader, only to find herself face to knee with one of the other punks. The punk pulled back and kicked her, driving his foot into her stomach and sending the small redhead flying back, to land on her back out near the gang leader again.
The leader crouched over the coughing redhead, and reached one hand out to caress the side of her face.
"Now, dolly, there's two ways we can do this. You can let us do what we want, and we'll let ya live- where we can keep ya, of course- or, we can beat ya inta it."
"Bite me." Ranma spat out between coughs, then began choking as the leader clamped his hand around her throat, lifting her off the ground.
"Bad choice." He snarled, as she scrabbled ineffectively at his fingers. Hauling back, he swung her around, slamming her back into the wall. Unable to make a sound with her air cut off, Ranma simply continued to choke until he let go.
She slumped down against the wall, gasping for air as the leader watched. "I don't think ya get it. You're mine. You're gonna do as I say. I c'n be pretty reasonable if ya do what I want." He punctuated the sentence by kicking her in the gut again.
Ranma retaliated by evacuating her lunch on his boot. For this body, the limits to the damage she could take were a lot lower, and the blows to her head had already left her nauseous.
The leader glared at her as he shook the vomit off of his boot. "Boys, soften 'er up. I gotta go clean off my Martens."
Two of the punks grabbed Ranma by the arms, using them to pin her against the wall, while a third stepped up, cracking his knuckles.
Ranma's world exploded in pain as the third punk pummeled her, driving his brass-knuckled fists into her belly and occasionally punching her legs as well. Before too long, she was spitting up blood with each blow to her badly bruised abdomen. Her vision began to swim, and just as she thought her body was about to give out and slip into unconsciousness, the beating stopped. The first two punks let go of her arms and she slumped to the ground again, falling over on her side, clutching her abused stomach.
She groaned in agony. Something inside had given way, she was sure there was internal bleeding. She needed. the word escaped her dizzy mind. For a few moments, she was allowed rest.
Things began to seem slightly clearer, and she started crawling to get away again. Then there was a heavy and her ankle broke.
Ranma finally cried out in pain as the punk ground his booted foot down on her ankle, pinning her in place.
"Big man don't like it when 'is girl tries to get away."
Said punk stepped back up to the group again, his boots wet from cleaning. "Good, ya kept 'er busy."
The boot lifted off Ranma's ankle, but she just lay there in pain and exhaustion. The head punk crouched down and flipped her over, then leered again. "An' ya didn't mess up her face, either. Good, boys. I think I'll let ya all have a shot at 'er after I'm done. Now, make sure we ain't bothered, kay?"
The other punks nodded and headed to the ends of the alley to watch for intruders.
The gang leader rubbed the side of Ranma's face with one hand. "Now, my name's Big. Got that? You call me 'master'. Now, let's see what ya got ta offer me, huh?"
With that, he ripped open Ranma's shirt, the semi-conscious redhead failing to respond.
"Whoa, mamma! I was sure those were fake. I like ya, Red. I like ya. No bra, even. Yer real nice ta master, ain'tcha?"
Ranma whimpered as he mauled her left breast with one hand, cruelly twisting the soft orb, while yanking her pants and boxers off.
"Heh. Nach'ral hair, too. We're gonna have a lot of fun together, you and URK"
Beaten, semi-conscious, and mostly nude, Ranma stared up through blurry vision at a familiar face.
((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((START AGAIN HERE)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
******
Ryooga was still lost when he heard a scream of pain. Before it died down, he whirled and headed in that direction.
He was a martial artist, it was his duty to help those in need. Many would- be muggers and robbers had a great fear of umbrella-wielding fighters.
Besides, that voice had sounded somewhat familiar.
Within moments, he found himself at the entry to an alley. Three leather- clad punks, all larger than himself, were blocking off the alley.
Ryooga glared at them. "Let me through."
The fattest one snorted. "Or what? You'll protect us from the rain with yer little parasol?"
All three of the other punks began to laugh.
None of them finished their laugh. Nor would they for quite some time. Being run over by a Hibiki was rather akin to being mowed down by a Mack truck.
******
Ryooga reached the middle of the alley just in time to see a badly beaten redhead being stripped by a fifth punk.
Hold the phone, said his mind, redhead???
With a single swing of his battle umbrella, the head punk found himself pasted, almost smeared, on the opposite wall of the alley. With a soft groan, he fell away from the wall, unconscious even before his head hit the concrete.
Crouching down and focusing hard on the fact that this was Ranma, Ryooga managed to not suffer a nosebleed as he pulled Ranma's pants and shirt carefully back into place. Just as he stood up, a fist impacted the back of his head, to what (to the punk) was surprisingly little effect. Well, aside from the punk's hand breaking. The remaining three backed off slowly. The boy hadn't even seemed to notice the attack.
The attacker screamed in pain, clutching at his now-useless right hand. That had been like punching concrete. He groaned then, curling his other arm about his injury.
Ryooga turned to the three punks standing in awe, and the fourth clutching his broken hand.
To the three actually looking at him, he seemed to take on a faintly blue cast.
"DIE."
There was no argument. But there WAS plenty of screaming.
******
Ryooga looked around at all of the trees. At least they weren't near the alley and the comatose, silent company within it, though where exactly they WERE, he wasn't sure of. Then again, that was a state he was used to.
The leader would, of course, be the worst off. When he woke up, that is. IF he woke up.
Despite all his bellowing, Ryooga knew he wouldn't ever actually kill someone. He may have been into eye-for-an-eye, but honor didn't allow for murder.
Crippling, however, was fair game.
Eventually coming to a place clear enough for a campsite, Ryoga laid the unconscious, female Ranma down, and began searching the surrounding trees for suitable stuff to make a splint. Ranma was going to need it.
**************************************************************************** **********
Yep, this thing's back. I hope you don't mind.
Wait, what am I saying? If you did, you just wouldn't read it, anyways.
Ah, well. Anyways, it's back, and it's here to stay. I'm working on all of this stuff at once, so expect progress to be fairly slow, if consistent.
As to the person who commented on Ryooga's initial response to this whole thing last time I had this up, yeah, I agree that it seems more like Ryooga this way. Thanks for the comment.