Part 8 – Mask

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.

He awoke to gentle, yet vague impressions, filtering by his sleepy mind in a slow torrent of sound and images. Thoughts came later, and he was tugged from the dull lullaby into the harsher light.

"You're awake." A soft murmur, a hand brushed back the strays of black from his eyes, lingering against his chilled skin. Tsunade.

What happened? He attempted, nothing but a wheeze emerged from his throat. The hand slipped down to his shoulder blades, and he rose slightly with its support. Glass touched his lips, "Drink this."

Bliss came in the form of cool liquid that slipped pass his chapped lips, moistening parched throat. He gulped down the entire glass at once, feeling immensely better after draining the last droplets from its container. "What happened?"

"We had to go back and dig you out of the rubble." Tsunade replied blandly, setting the empty glass on the table beside her. "You were already half out of it, Jiraiya volunteered to carry you back."

"Oh." Ranma closed his eyes, vaguely recalling the impression of moonlight and wind blowing past crimson bangs, cheeks pressed against a nest of messy white hair, and he had been thinking about…

Blood splattered onto her face, droplets of crimson red dripping from her hair…

His throat tightened, and he hurriedly lurched to the side of the bed, dry heaving. A pan was shoved into his face, and the constriction on his throat loosened. The life-giving water he drank moments ago streamed out in a single gush, flooding his mouth with a sour taste that rivaled the cesspit. He was dimly aware of Tsunade, slowly stroking his back with her hands as he emptied the pathetically few contents in his stomach.

"All done?" She murmured, pouring him another glass of water.

Ranma nodded, flipping his pigtail to the back of his neck, not trusting himself to speak, and accepted the glass with a thankful nod, sipping the water slowly to rid the horrid taste in his mouth.

Tsunade made a face at the content in the pan, then shoved the small container under his bed. "Funny, you went into a fit when we were a mile or two from the village too…" Amusement. "And puked all over Jiraiya before falling unconscious. Morino-san was most displeased that he couldn't drag you off to the old man right away."

"Oh." Ranma blinked, sitting up straight with some help from her, "Guess I owe Jai an apology then."

"If you want, though I think it serves that idiot right for being a pervert." The ash-blonde paused, "That Hyuuga medic's fine, before you ask. I performed the operation myself, it was a complete success." She stuffed a pillow behind him, and he leaned back with a thankful smile.

"Thanks, Tsunade. Guess I should go check on her later… What room is she in?"

"That won't be necessary, she's already recovered." She gave him a humorless smile, suddenly weary beyond words. "Didn't I mention? You slipped into a coma after we got back It's been over three months already."

"What?!"

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"How are you feeling?" The Hokage smiled at him, puffing on his pipe as he set aside another stack of finished paperwork.

Ranma shrugged, toying with the crutch. "Quite well, Hokage-sama. They only gave me this," as he raised the wooden appendage, "Because of regulations, I believe."

"Good, good." The older man continued to smile, commenting in an almost casual manner. "Quite well for someone who just woke up from a coma… two days ago, wasn't it?"

So that's how it's going to be. The pigtailed man shrugged again. "I heal fast."

"Of course, of course." Sandaime went back to the stack of paperwork on his desk, idly marking off something on the paper.

Ranma twitched as the minutes tickled by. Annoyance. "Is there a reason you called me here… Hokage-sama?"

Silence answered him. He snuck a look at the door, calculating the distance and the time it would take him to sneak out.

The rustling of paper forced his attention back to the Hokage, who pulled a thin folder from the large stack. Flipping the brown cover open, he scanned it briefly before setting the opened folder down, his attention suddenly focused on Ranma. "Captain Morino has written quite an interesting report about a certain mission three months ago, I believe."

A small pause, the mouth of the pipe tapped against the report. "There is a large section with your name on it, Ranma-san."

He cursed himself silently, a slight regret over that passion-filled night. Too much shock and anger and confusion and the desire to make things right, uncaring to how much more questions his actions would have raised. It was a dangerous time, after all.

A cough brought the pigtailed man out of his self-lament, the Hokage continued to smile at him. Ranma twitched, again. "Would that be all, Hokage-sama?"

"Ah, no…" Pause. "I'm removing your guard from his assignment; he's been requesting for a transfer for a while now." A shake of head, wry amusement. "Tsunade can be a handful when she wishes, I suppose. But well, no harm done, eh?"

Ranma's lips twitched slightly. "None at all, Hokage-sama… and thank you."

Sandaime mumbled something affirmative, and made a dismissive gesture, turning back to his work on the desk.

He was two steps away from the door when the old man called out. "By the way, Ranma-san?"

"Yes, Hokage-sama?"

"Captain Morino has placed a request for you when he found out about your recovery, he asks you to please consider it."

Blink. Blink. "What is it?"

"Join the ANBU."

Blue eyes widened.

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He was watching the snowstorm through half-opened windows, with the occasional clumps of white billowing into the room. The wind was harsh and biting, slicing into his already numb face, the room was dark, and deathly cold, with puddles of melted snow scattered all over the floor and the bed. He didn't mind.

A faint knock broke Ranma out of his daze, barely heard in the loud gush of wind. It was coming from the front door. He stood up, and left the room.

"Hyuuga-san." The woman gave him a small smile, the first one he saw since meeting her. She held a large bamboo umbrella in her hands, successfully keeping the snow from her lithe frame.

Ryouga snapped open his umbrella, just in time as the huge blast of cold water slammed towards him, pelting against the red bamboo loudly.

"Hey!" She yelled, soaked to the bone, "That's cheating, pig boy!"

"Ranma-san." She bowed, closing the umbrella. "May I come in?"

"Please." He murmured, stepping back as she slipped pass the door. He gestured to the couch, "Sit, I'll make tea."

"That won't be necessary, Ranma-san." She pulled a small packet from her dark kimono and handed to him. "The tea I promised…" She trailed off, milky eyes watching him expectedly.

Ranma blinked, accepting the packet with both hands. His nose itched, catching a familiar scent, stoically resisting the urge to frown, he smiled back instead, "Thank you, Hyuuga-san."

She bowed, strands of dark blue hair falling over her shoulders, "You're welcome."

"Is there… something you wish to say, Hyuuga-san?" Ranma inquired after an awkward moment of silence.

"Hiashi-sama wishes to convey his thanks for keeping the secret of the Byakugan from my attackers… and… he has engaged me to his elder son. The wedding will be held in a month." Iris-less eyes bore into his.

"She likes you…Hyuuga Hiashi would never allow her to marry a member outside of the Clan…"

He stiffened, his palms beginning to sweat. "Congratulations then, Hyuuga-san."

She looked away, but not before he caught the fleeting disappointment in those milky white eyes, "I see… Good day then, Ranma-san."

"Good day, Hyuuga-san."

She bowed to him, but paused at the door. "Ranma-san?"

"Yes?"

"My sincere apologies for the trouble that I have caused you… Hyuuga-sama is not a cruel man… but he is prideful, and gets what he wants with subtle means."

A flurry of black, and she was gone into the snowstorm, leaving him with a helpless sense of guilt, relief, as well as confusion over her last words.

"How long are you going to stand there?!" He snapped into the empty air. Form and color distorted, revealing a pale man clad in a loose haori, his arms crossed, angular face half-hidden behind damp raven hair, which still held bits of melting snow.

Orochimaru's smooth face twisted into a frown. "How did you knew I was there?"

"That's a secret." Ranma wiggled a finger at the other man. "What are you doing here?"

"Playing messenger." The pale shinobi uncrossed his arms, revealing an object in his hand as he held it out to the pigtailed man. "Quite a feat, to have both Captain Morino, as well as Hyuuga Hiashi vouchering for your initiation… Going to accept, Ranma-kun?"

Ranma stared, blue eyes flickering from the object to Orochimaru's face. Arms trembling involuntarily, he slowly took the object with both hands, still shaking.

The porcelain mask of the cat stared back at him expressionlessly, the empty eye sockets boring into him, ripping out memories of sharp claws and pain that had left a forever shadow in his life.

"What are you scared of?" It was an innocent question.

He flipped the mask over, feeling its smoothness in his hands, thoughts clamored in his mind, and the words slipped out of his mouth in a rush of confusion and sadness. "My existence."

Silence. He looked up to gold, and bit back the urge to scream out his soul.

"Going to accept, Ranma-kun?" Golden eyes still locked to stormy gray blue.

Ranma raised the mask to his face, feeling the chilled porcelain pressed against his numbing skin seamlessly, slicing him further away from his past existence as Ranma Saotome in a world too far gone for him.

"Call me Ran."

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TIMELINE – Year Five, late January.

And we've some more progress.

Note of thank to all the wonderful people on the anifics forum, who helped me greatly in ridding this part of all the grammar/spelling errors it used to have.