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 shifted, slowly circling the other, blue eyes narrowing dangerously at the object in his opponent's hands.
The other man made the first move, speeding towards Ranma with the object raised.
He feinted to the left, then jumped back. To his disappointment, the other did not take the bait, and move along with him.
Ranma cursed to himself, wishing for the katana that had always accompanied his ANBU missions, a single slice, and he would have rid himself of the problem, but now, distance was his best option.
He shifted back once more, and almost tripped against the sidewalk.
"Ha!" His attacker smirked viciously, throwing the object towards him with lethal velocity, "Got you!"
Splash. Clang. The small, plastic bucket rolled onto its side against her feet.
She twitched, red bangs plastered over her eyes wetly, hiding the burning flames of anger in gray blue orbs. "Ji-rai-ya."
The white-haired man smirked, his eyes glued to the spreading wet patch over her chest, a trail of drooling making its way down one corner of his mouth, "Yes, Ranma-chan?"
She was in his face in an instant, "Die."
A half-form orb of green light shaping in the palm of her hand, she pressed it to Jiraiya's chest, and let loose.
Boom.
He flew back in a streak of green, as did she. But unlike her controlled thrust, he was slammed into the nearby fences with a loud crash.
Ranma dusted her hand before giving the tips of her fingers a flamboyant blow, muttering softly under her breath. "Pervert."
"I see Jiraiya's making trouble for himself again." A kind voice said behind her.
Turning, she came face to face with the smiling eyes of the Hokage, accompanied by a teenage boy with large blue eyes and the brightest shade of blond hair she's ever seen.
"Tch, Jiraiya-sensei's being a pervert again." The boy commented, blue eyes staring at her with interest. "How did you do that?"
Ranma rolled her eyes, pulling the front of her wet shirt with a hand, the lie slipping easily from her mouth. "It's a blood limit."
"No." The boy shook his head, yellow spikes blobbing, "I mean that blast of Chakra you did."
"Oh..." Ranma said, feeling stupid. "It's a secret."
"Come on!" Large blue eyes sudden bore into her own, mere inches away, "Pleeeaaassseee?"
"Err..."
"Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease..."
"Pops!" He yelled, pointing a finger at the bald man dramatically, "Teach me how you did that, or I'll kick your ass!"
"Alright! Alright!" She laughed.
"Yesss! So how did you do it?" Hyper enthusiasm.
"Well, first you... err..." Stormy blue eyes shifted to the groaning form within the heap of broken wood.
"It's fine." Sandaime smiled, and nudged Jiraiya with a foot before giving them a wave, "Why don't you two head off somewhere, I need to speak to my student."
The two stared at each other for a moment, blue to blue, and shrugged at the same time. The boy skipped a few steps ahead of Ranma and looked back, smiling. "You like ramen? There's a nice ramen stand just a little farther, I go there all the time."
The redhead grinned, "'S long as you're paying, why not."
Blond hair blobbed up and down eagerly, "Okay! So how does that thing you did work?"
"Well, first I mixed my... emotion with Chakra, and focus it in the palm of my hand..."
"Why emotion?" Curiosity.
"Meh, I can't focus pure Chakra, don't have enough, and my control's bad." A wry smile at the white lie, kids are so cute.
"Oh..." Blue eyes looked thoughtful. "Then what?"
"Then you focus on a shape to charge it up, an orb's good, because..."
-------
He sat on the roof, his katana loosely discarded to his side, the moon casting a large shadow behind his immobile form. His ponytail billowing freely in the night wind, strands of raven whipping against his face, the once pristine uniform he wore dirtied with blood, splatters and streaks of dark crimson reflecting an odd color against the white fabric. His arms bare except for the tattoo of the ANBU, a vivid red against his lightly tanned skin. Goosebumps were rising due to the increasingly chilly wind, yet he never moved an inch.
"Mommy?"
The feline mask snapped up to the little girl, peeking from the door. She was dressed in pink pajamas, her tiny hands clutching a teddy bear half her size protectively. Wide eyes, innocent eyes stared at him, then at the mess of red on the floor. "Where's my mommy?"
"Kami-sama..." He whispered, forcing himself further into the ice, he raised the blade slowly, advancing towards the child, who stood frozen at the door, too young and shocked to understand the grief behind his words, "I'm sorry, I'm so, so, sorry."
The sword slashed down.
Another gust of breeze, bringing him the scent of pine trees and moss. Ranma smiled despite himself, relaxing marginally as a familiar presence appeared behind him, settling against his back with long familiarity.
Something poked him on his side, and he accepted the gourd wordlessly, recognizing it as one of Jiraiya's spares as he drowned himself in its fiery content.
"What are you scared of?"
"My existence."
"I think..." Ranma began, clutching the gourd in his hands tightly, "That I was so focused on reaching my goal, I never realized how lost I've became on the way."
A moment of blissful, yet heart-pounding silence.
"What will you do?" Calm. Collected. And calculating. Yet, oddly comforting.
Akane gave him a sweet smile.
Ranma smiled bitterly, clinging desperately to the last shred of solidarity in the stars. "Live."
-------
"A leave?" The nameless shinobi repeated after him, the report all but forgotten on the desk as he hastily scrambled through the small mountain of scrolls.
He folded his arms, still dressed in the blood-splattered ANBU uniform, with the katana strapped to his back once more, and waited.
"I'm sorry, Ran-sama, but you're already scheduled for... three... more... missions... this...week...?" The shinobi's voice gradually lowered into a small whimper, ending in a squeak. The silent form of the ANBU becoming more menacing as he spoke, his final word breathed out in a visible puff of air.
The temperature continued to drop.
A hand grabbed the scroll in question as another arm slung itself over Ranma's shoulder, pulling on the ponytail that hang down against the nape of his neck.
Ranma frowned behind his mask, shooting the other man a bored look through the eyeholes.
Jiraiya grinned, completely unabashed as he tapped the scroll against the porcelain mask, "I'll take them."
"...Thanks." He murmured, pulling the white-haired man's arm off of his shoulder as he turned to leave.
"You're welcome!" Jiraiya called out cheerfully behind him. "Just remember, you owe me one!"
"Whatever." Just two more steps.
"Oh, Ran?"
Dammit. "What?"
Laughter in his voice. "You should take off that mask of yours someday, it's scaring the kiddies."
Slam.
Ranma shook his head, flipping the ponytail to his back. Trust Jai to help me out... I'm going to regret this when he comes back to collect the favor.
He grimaced, suddenly conscious of the layer of grime on his body.
Shower. Bath. Braid. Clothes. Laundry.
Ranma ticked off his list of to-dos mentally, quickly making his way down the empty corridor.
A turn around the corner.
Bump.
His shoulders scraped along the other's chest, smearing a trail of black against the peach-colored kimono, a mixture of dried blood and dirt. He fumbled back, and found himself pressing against the wall from the imbalance.
The feline mask looked up, an apology on his lips.
Blue eyes found themselves staring into chocolate brown, full of warmth and tenderness and painful familiarity as her face stared back, looking as shocked and sickly fascinated as he felt.
Familiar, yet foreign eyes flickered from his own, over his rumpled uniform and filthy state of being, and settled back once more, to his eyes.
With a trembling hand, he reached up, pushing the mask from his face, his lips parted, and the words were stuck at the back of his throat.
It was like love... at first sight...
"Hi, I'm Akane. Want to spar?""Oh..."
... followed by endless lament.
-------
The door opened on the second knock. A brown head poked out, blinking into the rain. "Who is i... GAK!" A double take. "Oh. It's just you."
The boy placed a hand to his chest, letting out his breath slowly as he stepped aside for the visitor to enter. "You scared the hell out of me, Ran-niisan..."
Ranma sweatdropped, pushing the mask to the top of her head with a smile, dripping puddles around her feet. "Sorry, Nawaki."
The boy blinked, taking in Ranma's current attire, a confused frown on his face. "Should I call you Ranma-niisan right now? Or is it suppose to be Ranma-neesan?" He sniffed, and stared at Ranma's soaked uniform. "Ick, you smell funny too, didn't you take a bath before you get here?" A closer look. "Hey! Is that blood?!"
"Nawaki!" Tsunade stepped out of the kitchen, "Don't be rude."
"Thbbbbt. Whatever, I'm going to train, oneesan, eat without me. See ya!" The boy slipped out of the door in a flash.
"But it's raining!" Tsunade wailed feebly to her brother's receding back, and sighed. "Little brat."
Ranma cleared her throat.
Golden-brown eyes blinked, she gave him her Guilty Smile, "Oh! Ranchan, I didn't see you there!"
"Ranchan!" Ukyou called out happily, waving at him, "I didn't see you come in, okonomiyaki?""...thing wrong?"
She shook her head, catching the end of the ash-blonde's inquiry, "No... just that, a good friend of mine always called me by that name. It's nice to remember... Tsu-chan."
She giggled, holding a hand to her mouth, "Cute, very cute, Ranchan." Golden-brown eyes bore into hers, reminding her of the warm sunshine that slipped beyond her grasp. "Now tell me what's bothering you, because I know you didn't come all the way over here in the storm just to exchange nicknames."
Ranma smiled.
Sadness. "No, I didn't."
-------
TIMELINE – Year Five, early September.
In which we've some more snippets of Ranma's life... and the introduction of a familiar face, well, several, but only one of them is uber important.