Disclaimer: I do not own Ranma ½. Since I plan to have Inuyasha show up, I will say in advance that I do not own that series either. Certain concepts/ideas/etc. were borrowed from other sources—I can't say more without ruining the fic—and I do not own those. Basically, if you recognize it, assume it belongs to someone else.

Chapter Two:

He didn't stop running until he had reached the outskirts of Nerima. One final time, he looked back at the 'city' that had been his home for so long. But now, he had to leave it behind, as he had left so many homes in the past.

"Goodbye," he muttered into the wind. There was no going back. Someone wanted him dead—more so than usual, that is. And as long as he was in Nerima, everyone he knew was in danger.

Shouldering his pack, he turned away. No sense in prolonging things. He had to leaveâ€and there was no time like the present. But before he could take another step, a familiar voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Ranma! Wait!"

"No, Akane," Ranma said, not turning around. He couldn't look at her. He was afraid that, if he did, he'd lose his nerve. "Go back home. Forget about me. It's better this way."

"Better for who?" Akane demanded.

"For you, of course. They're after me, not you."

"They've always been after you, Ranma."

"This isn't Ryoga!" he growled, whipping around to face her. "This isn't about some moron with a grudge! That was a professional assassin! And he wasn't the first." Ranma opened his shirt and showed her the gash on his shoulder, even now scabbing over. "See this? Here's the story to go with it: I'm coming home from my flight, when some stranger takes a potshot at me from the roof. I knock him off, but he manages to put a knife through my shoulder before I take him down. All I get out of him before he takes a suicide pill is that he was hired to kill me. I don't know why, but someone wants me dead, and they're willing to do anything to make sure it happens. So do yourself a favor, and forget you ever heard my name."

Akane slapped him.

"Don't you dare try to tell me the situation, Ranma Saotome. I know what's going on. In case you weren't paying attention, my father and sister were just murdered over...over whatever the hells this is. And you know what? You're not making anyone safer by leaving!"

"What do ya mean?"

"I mean, that bastard was at our house because he didn't know where to find you."

"You think I haven't thought of that?" Ranma shot back. "I'll make myself conspicuous. The whole point is to draw them away from Nerima—whoever the fuck they are."

"I understand that you have to leave" she began calmly.

"Good," Ranma interrupted. He turned on his heel and began to walk away—only to stop short, hearing the crunch of twigs behind him.

"What are you doing?" he demanded. Akane crossed her arms, and glared witheringly at him.

"Coming with you."

"Were you listening to a word I said?" Ranma snapped. "Can't you see I'm trying to get you out of danger here?"

"I can take care of myself, thank you very much. Besides, I don't think there's a safer place in the world than close to you."

"I'm not staying, and you're not going," he said with finality.

"Let me make it simple for you," Akane replied, in a tone that brooked no argument. "I'm coming with you, whether you like it or not. And there is nothing you can say or do that will stop me."

Unstoppable force met immovable object. Force was knocked flat.

"All right, fine!" Ranma said, throwing up his hands. "But I'm doing the cooking."

They hiked for hours on end through the mountains. Ranma was clearly determined to put as much distance between himself and Nerima as was possible in a single day.

It had to be almost midnight when they came across the mountain clearing. Glancing behind him, Ranma realized how far behind him Akane had fallen. They had started out almost shoulder to shoulder, but now she lagged by several feet.

"This seems like a good place to set up camp," he told her, dropping his pack.

"Thanks," she replied. Ranma shrugged.

"Who says I'm doin' it for you, tomboy?" he lied, pulling his sleeping bag from his pack.

"Oops." Ranma looked up, confused.

"Whadda ya mean 'oops? Didja forget to bring a sleeping bag or something?" he joked.

Akane nodded.

"Great, just great," Ranma growled, slapping his forehead. "All right, you'll just have to use mine."

"What?"

"Use mine," he reiterated, tossing the bag over to her. "I've been on the road more than you; I can handle sleeping on the ground." He plopped down under a tree, laying an arm over his eyes.

Akane blinked. "Oh," she said. She gave herself a hard mental slap. Of course that was what Ranma meant! Yeesh, it was like she was the hentai here.

"Look, Ranma, I'm not going to just take" she began—but she was interrupted by a loud snore. Rolling her eyes, she threw the sleeping bag down beside him and crawled in.

His steps echoed back to him from the darkness as the fog twisted around him like a constrictor snake squeezing the life from its prey. Chills ran up and down his spine like a marching band on parade; he held his arms closer to his body in an attempt to ward off the cold. In the distance came the constant sound of a shovel striking against the icy ground.

"Hello?" he called. "Anybody there? Where am I?" Only his echo answered him.

An object loomed out of the fog; it tripped him up and sent him sprawling onto his back.

It was a gravestone he had stumbled over. And he now found himself staring straight up at a hangman's tree and the lifeless bodies of Soun, Kasumi, and Genma.

Kasumi's eyes opened, and she glared straight back at him.

"You killed us," she accused.

"No! Please, I swear, I never meantâ€I never wanted" The ropes snapped; the three bodies fell to the ground and lurched towards him.

"You killed us!" they snarled in unison. He ran.

And nearly fell into an open grave. The sound of the shovel stopped as the gravedigger turned to look at him.

"Gosunkugi?" The pale Goth grinned toothily and pulled himself out of the hole.

"Hello," he hissed.

"Who...whose grave is it?"

"It's yours." Gosunkugi swung his shovel; it connected with his skull. Ranma pitched forward, and fell into the abyss.

And fell. And fell.

And now all around him there was fire, and demons reaching forth to grab and claw at him, and still he fell...

Ranma awoke in a cold sweat. The first thing he noticed was that, in the midst of his tossing and turning, he had thrown an arm over Akane—a situation he instinctively rectified the instant he became aware of it. The second thing he noticed was that Ryoga was currently standing over him, fuming.

"Uh...hey, Ryoga" Ranma muttered, punctuating the remark with a yawn. The Eternally Lost Boy glowered at him.

"How dare you defile Akane like that?" he demanded.

"Whatcha talkin' 'bout, porkbutt?" Ranma asked. "I just had an arm—yawn—around her"

"I'll make you PAY!" Ryoga declared, brandishing his battle umbrella.

"Look, P-chan, it's—it's—umm" Ranma checked his watch, but couldn't make out the time. "It's very early in the morning, and I'm really not in the mood" Ryoga ignored him.

"DIE RANMA!" he bellowed, charging forward in a bull rush.

The charge was cut drastically short as a mallet impacted with his head. Despite his thick skull, Ryoga came crashing to the ground, wondering why miniature versions of his cursed form were dancing around his head.

"Nice shot, tomboy," Ranma complimented. "Remind me not to stand close to ya if I ever need to wake ya up."

"Thanks," Akane replied, rubbing her eyes. "So, uh, what do we do with him?"

"Dunno," Ranma admitted. "Wait for him to wake up and try to talk some sense into him?"

"How likely is that?" Akane asked, arching an eyebrow.

"More likely than Kuno suddenly deciding he likes guys, at any rate. But only slightly."

"Oh." A pause. "How would he react if we tied him up? Assuming we have rope, that is."

"Break the ropes and go on a rampage. Of course, we don't have rope anyway, so, it's a moot point."

"I see," she replied. "What's that leave us with?"

"Not much," he said. "Except maybe punting him into the horizon. And, uh, to be honest, I don't particularly wanna do that."

"Do what?" asked a groggy Ryoga. Both of them jumped.

"Uh, listen, Ryoga," said Ranma when he had recollected his wits. "I'm sorry about whatever the heck I did to make ya mad this time. Could we, uh, say, talk?"

"Talk? Talk? You think a mere apology can make up for the wrongs you've done?" the Lost Boy bellowed. Apparently, his skull was thicker than either have them had imagined. "DIE!!!" This time, the fanged martial artist moved faster than Akane's mallet. His fist lashed out, striking Ranma's shoulder. His wounded shoulder.

Ranma collapsed to the ground, clutching his shoulder and screaming in pain. At about the same time, the mallet connected with Ryoga's chin, hurling him backwards through a tree. Literally.

"How dare you!" she roared. "You call yourself a martial artist, and you hit a wounded man? Youâ€you" Akane paused, apparently looking for a strong enough pejorative.

"I think 'swine' would be appropriate," Ranma growled through gritted teeth. "Wanna pour lemon juice on it while you're at it, porkbutt?"

Ryoga scurried desperately away from the advancing Akane, a single thought replaying in his mind: Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

"I'm sorry!" he wailed.

"'You think a mere apology can make up for the wrongs you've done?'" Akane parroted.

"I didn't know!" Ryoga begged.

"And I didn't know I knocked you into the Spring of Drowned Pig, but you've been after me for that!" Ranma retorted; a second later, he slapped himself on the forehead.

Akane stopped in her tracks, and certain rusty gears in her head started turning. ((A/N: In no way is this intended as Akane bash. I'm not saying she doesn't think, but there are certain subjects that are, shall we say, closed books to her.)) Silently, she picked up a canteen, and hurled a portion of the contents at Ryoga. Instantly, a bedraggled black piglet sat in his place.

The youngest Tendo daughter picked up P-chan, and spoke with supreme calm. Not the calm of a peaceful summer day with birds chirping in the background, oh no. Rather it was the calm before the storm—or perhaps the eye of the hurricane.

"Hello, 'P-chan.'" The piglet whimpered. "Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. Much. I've got a better idea of what to do with you."

Ranma and Ryoga experienced a joint shudder.

"You, Ryoga Hibiki, have just attacked a wounded man without provocation. I think you owe him a debt of honor on a massive scale. The way I see it, your only option besides seppuku would be to swear to be his bodyguard." The piglet nodded vigorously, trying not to think of katanas, tantos, and guts spilling out of the chest. Akane grinned, a frosty smile that would have given Nabiki a run for her money. "I thought so. You'll be taking watch the rest of the night then. Oh, and Ryoga? If I ever catch you in my bed again, I won't be so generous." She tossed her former pet onto the ground and stalked back to the sleeping bag.

Ranma set about boiling some water to change Ryoga back.