Part Three - Burn

Disclaimer: The concept of Ranma 1/2 and Naruto belongs to Rumiko Takahashi, and Masashi Kishimoto. This is a product of pure amusement values, with no profits made.

Pain ate its way down his naked back, coursing through his body in agonizing waves that made him scream… on the inside. Beads of sweat rolled down his chest, his body felt as if it were on fire, piercing heat from that single blemish between his shoulder blades, which he had became oh-so-familiar with in the months past, digging deep into the bones, then burrowing its way to every nerve within his body.

His jaw sore and hurting from clenching his teeth too hard, and the coppery tang threatened to spilt itself from the back of his throat. His fingers dug into the seat of the stool, and held on.

"You may relax now." A soft voice murmured by his ear. And he felt the physical sharpness of pain receding.

Ranma gasped, a shudder going through his lean frame, hunching forward in the stool, he wrapped his arms around himself in a vain attempt to control the after-spasms that shook his body.

Heavy panting, mixed with painful hisses filled the room. Its other occupant choosing silence while Ranma regain his composure.

"'ow'd ra du?" Ranma warbled, a hand cupped around his jaw, wincing at the bursts of soreness as he rubbed along its side.

The medic-nin paused in cleaning her needles. "Your pain tolerance is exceptional."

Ranma frowned, crossing his arms across bare chest, droplets of sweat still lingered on his skin, despite the fading pain, "And?"

She wrapped up the needles carefully, then slipped them into the small pouch, soft rustling filled the room as she gathered up the rest of her equipment with practical efficiency.

"Please." It stung, for him to utter that word. Though the medic-nin did stop, one step from the door.

"I need to know." Desperation.

A soft sigh. She wavered. And turned back.

Pulling out a chair from the side, the woman sat down across from him, her pouch landing onto the table with a dull 'clunt'. "What do you wish to know?"

Blue eyes locked into milky-white.

"Everything."

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"I will never be able to restore your full strength."

Ranma pushed the door open, staggering out of the building in a daze.

"The mark on your back, simple as it may, has severely disrupted the Chakra within your body."

He twisted to the right, his sandals barely making a sound against the cobblestone walk, passing a small group of shinobi, who had gone quiet as he drew near.

"While the Byakugan given me the ability to follow the pathways of your Chakra, there remained several difficulties for a 'cure'."

Distantly, he could hear the conversation picking up behind him, not that he cared to listen. A few more steps, and he turned again, slipping into a busier street.

"First, there is nothing I can do to directly restore your strength. For one, the way your body stores and reacts to Chakra befuddles me. And even with the Byakugan, I could not fully comprehend the complexity of this mark on your Chakra pathways, simply due to the fact that it works in such a passive manner, I am unable to distinct what is, and what isn't."

He slowed down his march to a lighter pace, taking care not to bump into any of the pass-bys, and breathed a soft sigh of relief when another turn brought him to a shadowed ally. The sun had been harsh in his eyes.

She raised a hand, forestalling his denial, "-However-, given the times that I've studied your body and Chakra these past weeks, there is another option."

The ally wasn't much better than the crowded street, Ranma decided after a moment. He was pretty sure he had stepped on something unpleasant a moment ago.

"By opening certain Chakra points on your body," She gestured to her pouch, "I am able to re-direct a number of non-disrupted Chakra pathways within your body to override the mark, very briefly," She paused, "Given time, and extensive treatment, perhaps it will become permanent."

He paused in front of the tiny apartment the Hokage had arranged for him, his forehead resting against the door; a headache was beginning to pound between his eyes.

"It will be painful." She stated, "But…" Picking up the stool he had sat on, she flipped it over, showing him eight long depressions on the steel frame, his fingerprint. "Effective."

Coughing back hysteria laughter, Ranma shook out his keys, jamming one into the lock; his hands were shaking as he unlocked the door, pulling it open.

"How long?" He asked, flexing his fingers, recalling the vague feeling of steel softening like mush under his hand in that moment, when the pain became almost unbearable.

It was almost impossible to read sympathy in those milky-eyes, but he did.

"Years."

The door slammed shut behind him.

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His fingers fitted smoothly into the depressions on the seat of the stool. Too well. He thought, prying the stiff appendages loose. His entire body ached, and Ranma was content in holding his position, at least until his knees stops shaking.

"How did I do?"

The medic-nin looked up from her needles, "Better."

Silence. Footstep.

"I've found a medium." She said, standing in front of him, "We can begin the treatment anytime now. Though…" She trailed off, milky-eyes focused on his face. Expectation.

Ranma nodded, breathing a sigh of relief, then winced as his body shook along with the tiny tremor, "I will speak with the Hokage tomorrow."

She gathered up her things and left without a word, leaving Ranma alone in the room to wait out the pain.

Silence. A noise at the door.

Ranma looked up, sunshine poked its head into the door, and stared back.

"Hi?" The woman from his first day offered, brushing away sun-kissed locks that had strayed into her eyes as she bounced into the room. She wore the same pale green kimono that brought out the color of her warm golden-brown eyes, with loose sleeves that occasionally revealed her slim arms, despite the cooling weather.

Ranma blinked, frowning slightly to himself at her look of interest.

"I'm Tsunade." She started, "You remember me, right?" He continued to stare. Tsunade continued, unperturbed by his silence. "I saw you coming and leaving here several times. Guess you really are looking for help, and not a spy, eh?"

He hissed softly, and she blinked, surprised as he clenched his teeth.

"You're in pain." Statement. A hand, glowing with Chakra, was pressed against his back, blissful coolness spread from the point of contact, numbing the fire that had course through his body.

Ranma stood, breaking the touch as fingers lingered on the kanji burnt between his shoulder blades, "Thank you." He moved his arms, rolling his shoulders, a slight twinge, and nothing more.

"You're welcome." Tsunade grinned, pleased with herself. "I'll be completing my training as medic-nin soon. But that's only because the old geezer wanted me to have more 'practice experience'."

Silence. Ranma pulled on his shirt, giving his pigtail a tug.

"So, Jusenkyou."

"Yes."

"Not a spy then?"

"…No."

"Good." Tsunade smirked, golden-brown eyes gleaming with delight, "Jiraiya owes me money." A hand snatched his arm, "Come on, you can help me collect it."

"Eh?"

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Ranma stared.

The room was dark and dingy, the air smelling faintly of smoke. Thankfully, Tsunade had dragged him to a relatively empty corner of the room, a tiny window shedding a single square of sunshine on the table, where two others sat.

The white-haired man, Jiraiya, slumped over the table, bottles that looked suspiciously like sake littered around him.

"Jiraiya!" Ranma winced as Tsunade screamed, almost in his ear. Marching over purposefully, she grabbed Jiraiya by the front of his shirt, dragging the teen up, nose to nose, "Are you drinking again?! You're setting a bad example for your team of kids!"

"They ain't here, 'sides, it's a fucking bar, you bi… oh, hey." Jiraiya broke off, looking pass his fuming companion, jabbing a finger at Ranma "You're that guy the old man was talking about, aren't you?"

A quirked eyebrow, and Tsunade quickly sat down, ducking guiltily from Ranma's look of amused inquiry.

"I'm Jiraiya." The man boasted, sounding remarkably sober despite the number of sake he had, striking an arm in the air, "The most amazing ninja in the north, sound, west, and eastern land! Jounin instructor to the best Gennin team ever!" A goofy, but friendly grin, and he plop down into his seat.

"Orochimaru! 'Ey! Orochimaru!" Jiraiya's kicked on his chair when the other man-sitting in the farthest corner of the table, a single bottle, barely touched, sat in front of him-refused to acknowledge his presence, and Ranma winced at the groaning wood, surprised that the chair did not immediately collapse into a heap of rubble. Jiraiya pounded on the table, the bottles shuddering with every impact, "Introduce yourself, you arrogant prick!"

Orochimaru rolled his eyes, which were almost hidden behind his hair, pooling loosely around his face. He uncrossed his arms with deliberate slowness, "Why should I? You've already screeched it loud enough for the entire village to hear." A slight tilt of his chin. Mocking gold locked into stormy blue.

Inhuman.

Ranma suppressed a shiver, but refused to look away, Orochimaru smirked, amused. Standing up, he dragged the bottle over, the ceramic end scraping along the uneven tabletop. Pushing the untouched bottle into Ranma's hands with calculated delicacy. A single, soft whisper. "Welcome."

Crisp pine, and the tang of musky moss.

Ranma stared at the bottle for a moment, then into the interested face of the trio. He tilted his head back, and let the liquid fire burnt its way down his throat.

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TIMELINE - Year Three, late November.

From the comments that I received so far on the story, I've came to the realization that it's... confusing. There were some pretty interesting speculations, while most of them were close to the mark, well, none hit the nail right on the head. So, I thought I should clarify some things, then I though, 'heck with it, it'll all be revealed... in time'.

So yeah.