Guest Ki: Chapter 5

Intentions

Nabiki subtly tormented P-chan with glimpses of her body, food that invariably had pork in it, hentai pictures and deliberate misdirection. At one point, he spent several hours attempting to climb the wall, because she convinced him that the works of an artist named Escher actually had some validity in the real world. He finally resorted to hiding deep under her bed and refusing to come out for any reason whatsoever. Give him a few years and he'd be able to chew through the wall.

'And if they come for me, I'll show them that I am a true martial artist despite the limits my curse places on me! I shall prevail! Bwee, hee, hee, hee, heh, heh...'

Soun Tendo had just returned from depositing the lost-boy's pack and umbrella near the vet's office. He groaned reflectively; the pack had weighed a ton. He had been half afraid that the umbrella was going to be a problem, being familiar with it in the past, but found it only slightly heavier than an ordinary bamboo one. Which was really odd. It had been much heavier when he retrieved it from the bushes in the back yard, hadn't it? Well, now he could sit back and let the girls handle it from here.

He watched Nabiki come lazily down the hall from the bathroom, wearing a robe and rubbing her hair with a towel. "Daughter, why a bath so late in the day?" asked Soun, looking up from his paper. "Isn't it time to take Ry— ah, P-chan to the vet's?"

"That's why I was taking a bath, Daddy," she huffed with a small, wicked smile. "I'm going to have to subdue him to get him into the carrier."

"Oh. All right, then."

He returned to his paper. After a moment the conversation sank in. His hands shook, an eyebrow twitched up toward his hairline. Why did Nabiki need a bath to catch P-chan? Didn't she normally dress while she was in the bathroom? The paper, held taut between the shaking hands of a martial artist, ripped right down the center seam.

"She wouldn't!"

Nabiki cautiously entered the room. She'd already gotten the pet carrier up during one of P-chan's naps. Now where was P-chan? Yup! Still under the bed. Oh, well, no time to waste. She dropped her robe.

"Pe-e-e-chan-n-n! Here piggy, piggy, piggy!" P-chan kept still.

He felt the increase in the intensity of the light as the sheets and blankets were lifted out of the way. It was almost time to make his break. He turned his head so he could tell when his captor and tormentor had both knees on the floor. As she ducked under the edge to search for him, she'd be at her greatest disadvantage. Then he'd charge...

Nabiki got down on her hands and knees and peered under the bed. She made sure P-chan got a good view. She felt slightly excited by the prospect, but didn't consider why. She told herself this was the ultimate revenge on the pervert boy that interfered in her sister's life for so long. Crouched by the bed, naked as the day she was born, water still beading on her skin, she let her breasts swing slightly as she husked out her chosen script: "C'mon, P-chan. Don't you... want it?"

P-chan's eyes bulged and he went into neural shutdown. He never heard his own squeal of agony, never felt his body go on automatic and ram into the far wall, three times in succession, legs churning desperately like some wild wind-up toy. He collapsed in a heap, blood streaming from his nose.

Nabiki laughed. Teasing Ryoga was fun! She just might try for him, if he had any money. He was terribly cute with those fangs and green eyes. Being around Ranma and the whole insanity had pretty much cured her of any bigotry against the cursed. Besides, how much cold water do you run into in the bedroom, accidentally anyhow? Unfortunately, her sources said he didn't have money (or not enough), got lost all the time and the curse was apparently transferable to the spouse. She was not willing to become a homeless wanderer.

She reached under the bed, snagged him by the bandanna and deposited him in the pet carrier.

"Daddy? Kasumi? Got him! Be about five minutes."

Kasumi had returned to the house from bringing in laundry as her sister caught P-chan. She had heard the thumps and P-chan's squeals as he overloaded. She looked at Soun and his torn paper with concern.

"Ummm… Is everything all right, Father?"

"You don't want to know, daughter. You really don't want to know."

So, now the transformed martial artist was swaying back and forth in the pet carrier, 'bwee'-ing like mad in the hope that someone would take pity on him and rescue him from his fate-worse-than-death. There were tons of animal cruelty prevention leagues around; where were they when you needed them? ASPCA. PETA. Hell! He'd even settle for Azusa Shiratori right now! Being 'Charlotte' didn't sound half bad, under the circumstances.

He was making enough noise that Soun and Nabiki felt safe going over their plans one more time. "All right, Daddy," the latter whispered. "When we get to the door, you set the cage down facing toward the end of the block where you left his backpack and umbrella."

"Don't remind me, daughter." He turned to his eldest. "Are you ready to run around to the back door to make sure he doesn't get in?"

"Yes, Father," returned Kasumi. It was so sad that it had come to this, but perhaps Ryoga would learn from it. She hoped so.

"Good! I'll set the carrier down, facing the right way, and Nabiki," he turned toward their strategist, "are you certain that the door will spring open if you lean on the top of the hinge?"

"Of course I am," she said testily. The pig's squealing was beginning to grate on their nerves. Still, they were close to the market district, and enough people did bring live animals for sale that P-chan's noise was not out of place. "You just make sure he goes the right way." She winced as a particularly shrill squeal sent chalkboard thrills down her spine. "Let's just get on with it and go home."

They came to the vet's office and set the carrier down. Nabiki nonchalantly set one foot on top of the door hinge and waited for P-chan to throw himself against it.

Naturally, Ryoga chose that moment to go silent and still, deciding that, since he hadn't broken the carrier with his struggles yet, he'd conserve his remaining strength and make a break for it when they opened the cage door. Outside, three Tendos stared at each other with expressions of dismay, disbelief and disgruntlement.

Suddenly, a hard shock rocked the carrier and P-chan felt himself thrown forward and through the carrier door. He was free-e-e-e! He charged up the street, never looking back, and went straight past his pack and umbrella without a pause. He never saw them, only the open road and blue horizon ahead. FREE-E-E-E-E!

If he had glanced back he would have seen Nabiki and Soun staring at Kasumi with shocked looks, and Kasumi with a very uncharacteristic grimace on her face. She was standing on one foot, leaning against the wall. The pet carrier was nearly four meters away and would never again hold a small animal.

"Kasumi," breathed Soun, shocked at what she had done.

"Nice recovery, sis," grinned Nabiki. "Couldn't have done better, myself."

"A kick worthy of Akane, my dear," said Soun, relieved at the sudden solution to their problem. "I am so proud!"

"Well, I couldn't let Ryoga be ca-ca—! I mean he's such a nice boy when he's not being a pervert." She looked at Nabiki, flustered.

Nabiki laughed. "Dad, why don't you go get Ryoga's pack? I'm sure that, even if he never returns as P-chan, he'll still stop by to pick it up. I'll help Kasumi get home. I think she overdid it for her first Akane impersonation." She stroked her chin and added, "Maybe I can charge him storage fees."

Soun groaned and slouched up the street dejectedly.

Shampoo sat cross-legged on her bed at the Nekohanten. A frown marred her deceptively delicate beauty. Akane had, if not beaten her, certainly put her at a disadvantage. It was analogous to a general in battle taking another by surprise, then withdrawing, allowing the point to be made that they could have beaten their opponent. She couldn't even go to her grandmother for advice on this debacle. This was something she had to handle herself, and in a way that eliminated Akane without direct combat. She 'ticked' a fingernail against a tooth.

She would do it. She slid off her bed and called for Mousse. The latter was never very far.

"Mousse, Shampoo want you here. Now!"

""Coming, my love!"" came Mousse's reply in Mandarin.

""Mu Tsu, I need you to write a letter in hiragana for me.""

""A letter of challenge?"" Mousse asked in surprise.

""Dummy!"" she yelled, bopping him. ""What Amazon need of such things for outsiders?"" She controlled herself with an effort. ""Just write, Mousse. Let Shampoo worry why.""

""It has come to my attention that a previously unknown member of the Jusenkyo-cursed is disrupting the harmony of the houses of Saotome and Tendo. This young man, Ryoga Hibiki by name, has as his cursed form a small black pig. He is often seen in the vicinity of the Tendo dojo. Perhaps, coincidentally, Akane Tendo has a pet, a small black pig, called P-chan. It should be investigated, as such a condition touches the honor of both houses.""

Mousse finished and looked up at his beloved.

""Whom should I address this to, Shampoo?""

She told him.

He blanched.

P-chan stumbled along through the rain. Cold, wet and miserable, he had been in pig-form for days. He fled the veterinarian's office only minutes before his scheduled appointment to be 'fixed'. He ran blindly ever since, the horror of what had been planned for him bringing the small animal instincts to the fore. At first, he'd been ecstatic, but then he wandered into the middle of the market district of Nerima. With a renewed sense of horror, he heard squealing and looked up to see a pair of live piglets in a ridiculously small wicker cage, waiting to be sold for, for...

"Hey, now, little piglet, looking for a home?" He whirled around to see the shop owner, holding out some food trying to coax him into reach. "Nice food for you. You hungry? Soo, soo, soo..."

P-chan bolted as if a lion were after him. Pretty soon, his high-speed trail meandered all over the marketplace, and he had all sorts of people after him, making bets as to who would catch him and how soon, and how he could be best prepared. His horror had returned full force, and his only recourse was to run and run and run and run...

He knew it was past midnight, but he pushed on, hoping he was putting more distance between himself and the Tendos, the Nerima market district and, maybe, the whole world. For all he knew, he might be running around in circles. He often did.

He staggered around a tree and briefly found shelter under a broad leaf plant. He giggled hysterically. As a human, he was known as Hibiki Ryoga and was one of the most formidable martial artists in Japan, possibly the world. As a pig… Well, mostly he was a light snack that was still mobile.

He wasn't paying attention to where he was going. Too much had happened in the past week. If he had not wrecked the linen closet in his first attempt to make himself scarce when the vet visit had been discussed, if Akane had not left for her cousin's house, if he hadn't bitten Mr. Tendo... His eyes glazed over, as he pondered the latest assessment of his miserable life.

It was Ranma's fault, of course. It had to be. It always was, ultimately. He had stolen the bread. He — or she — had knocked the lost-boy into the Jusenkyo pool of Drowned Black Piglet. He had stubbornly fought back when Ryoga had taken him to task and cost Akane her beautiful long hair... Ryoga ran down the list of woes that he attributed to Ranma. It was detailed and extensive. Ryoga had never forgotten or forgiven a grudge against his rival since junior high school. Finally, he came to the ultimate in his scores to settle — the relationship with Akane Tendo.

Ranma had stolen her love. That crass, perverted, fake-macho, fem-boy, dishonorable jerk had somehow stolen the love of Akane Tendo. With three other girls after him, that sneaky over-skilled bastard had to lead Akane on, the only girl Ryoga ever wanted. It had probably even been some plan of his that had resulted in Ryoga meeting Akari Unryu.

Ryoga admitted to himself that, had he been stronger, the distraction Akari provided would not have deterred him, but it had been so long since he had been accepted anywhere with out the constant fear of water's betrayal, cold or hot…

Now, poor Akari, as sweet and innocent a soul as Akane had ever been, was also suffering because of Ranma. She had set her hopes on Ryoga, the first man ever to defeat her prize sumo pig in battle. But the horror of his curse kept coming back to haunt him. On a pig farm, where the ultimate aim is the production and training of top-level sumo pigs, there are always those who don't measure up. Those who are only large pigs, injured pigs or throwbacks to the smaller pig-ancestors of the sumo pigs, and are a drain on the meager resources available.

Most of the misfits, the Unryus sent alive to market, like those two piglets he'd seen. Transporting pork 'on the hoof' was more cost effective. Some though, went to feed the farmers who had raised them. He had made it through one such incident, watching Akari weep as she slaughtered a medium-size pig, dressed it and prepared it for the smokehouse. She looked into his eyes afterwards and watched him flinch... Her grandfather maintained she was just too feminine; she needed a strong hand, a young warrior like Ryoga around to steady her. Ryoga knew better. He had seen himself, over and over again in his dreams, caressed by those gentle loving hands until the knife came to nick his throat and hot tears fell like rain...

Anyone familiar with Ryoga would have recognized the twisting strands of power that coalesced into a glowing, green ball. The blast ripped away the side of a large tree and hurled the remnants laterally into another like a titanic spear. The recoil blew a small black form through the woods like a howitzer round.

Mercifully, he missed trees and heavy branches in his flight. He crashed to the ground and rolled for what seemed forever. He lay there as the long, cold hours of the night drew to a close and the downpour slackened to drizzle. As the sun transformed the darkness to the haze of dawn, he vaguely realized he was lying at the top of a cliff. Far below, mists and shadows shrouded the valley in mystery. It was horribly suggestive. Was it…Jusenkyo? Had he managed to stumble his way to the one place in the world where he might find a cure? He inched closer, his piggish eyes straining to make out details, hoping against hope for redemption. Under his hooves, dirt and rock crumbled and whispered unnoticed over the drop off.

'When pigs fly.' Ryoga had a brief epiphany as he tumbled over and over into the mists. He wondered briefly whether there was some ki technique that would allow someone to fly. Right about now it'd be real handy!

(SPLOOSH!)

He surfaced and struck out strongly. A good swimmer — he almost always managed to take the longest route back to shore and drowning is not a survival option — he struck out and hoped he'd find the Jusenkyo guide, or Plum, or someone who might recognize him. It took a long time, but finally he scrabbled ashore and shook himself. As he left the water's edge, he got a better view of the surroundings as the sun came up high enough to illuminate the valley. Then he sagged to the ground, legs splayed in utter disappointment.

Somewhere deep inside, he asked himself, 'Why so disappointed? So what if it's just a lake and not Jusenkyo. Why does it matter?' But it did matter. The world was a dark and lonely place. He told himself that often enough; full of disappointments, full of pain. What right had he to expect a change in plans?

He always had bad luck. Getting lost all the time. He'd seen his parents about a dozen times each in the last ten years. Only his dog had kept him in school till he met Ranma, and that last had been his worst luck of all. At least, until then, he had been the best martial artist of his age group. Now, he was just a pig!

Ryoga thought about getting up, but couldn't summon the will to make his legs do more than quiver. He was so tired. The sun rose higher, but somehow the rays did not warm him. He knew he should move; he was, after all, in an exposed position. Small animals that did not take precautions become menu items. He lay dully, one part of himself not caring, the other part indifferent, waiting.

Where his body was in contact with the pebbled beach, he could feel faint vibrations through the earth. Wherever he was, it was inhabited by something large and active. Idly, he analyzed what his senses were telling him and recognized the vibrations as the foot impacts of a two-legged creature. They were not close, but weren't too far away, either. He considered getting up and investigating but was vetoed thoroughly by his rebellious muscles. A shadow passed over him.

A big crow suddenly dropped into view and cocked its head at him. P-chan watched dully as it hopped cautiously forward. He remembered when he had been searching for Ranma; he had come across a recent victim of vehicular traffic on a road far to the north. The rabbit had been lying there, staring sightlessly at the sky when an alert crow, much like this one, swooped down to land beside the carcass and pluck out the eye. Ryoga felt a shudder shake the frame of his cursed form, and watched the crow jump back with a squawk. After a moment though, it moved in again. Nothing would stop it this time.

Ranma sat in a relaxed, lotus position, controlling his breathing and demonstrating the connection between breathing and the production of ki and tried to achieve his center. He and Barry had been exploring the ki lines of his body and seeing how they reacted to various emotional states. Ranma had been getting rather wistful at Barry's descriptions of 'endless gleaming threads' and 'shimmering sheets of light'. "I wish I could see this stuff," he muttered.

'Why can't you?' asked Barry from within.

"Gaah!" Ranma made a disgusted sound. "How can I look in my body?" he said finally. "Ya gotta admit, it'd be nice, though. Look how far we've come with you tellin' me what's goin' on in there."

'So, come on in!' Barry suggested. 'We've switched back and forth, before.'

"It can't be that easy," growled Ranma. "Nothin' is ever that easy." They exchanged places and Ranma shifted about trying to see his ki. 'What'd I tell ya?'

"How'd you ever get to be a martial artist, huh?" sneered Barry. "You're giving up?" He felt Ranma shift inside.

'No, I'm not giving up!' sneered Ranma back. 'Stupid, lousy gaijin know-it-all…'

"I worked it out trying to get to sleep… Maybe that'll work for you," suggested Barry after a moment. He got a snort from his host. "Okay, what about the meditating you do to aid in concentration?"

'That might work,' Ranma allowed. 'But you'll hafta be the one meditating. I'll hafta work inside and find out what happens.'

"Sounds easy enough."

'Says the guy who can't punch using a perfectly well-trained body…'

"Are we going to do this, or are you going to make smart remarks all morning?" They heard a faint roll of thunder. "We better do it quick if that's more weather moving through." Barry tried to move himself into the proper position.

'No, no!' Ranma scolded. 'Don't force it. Be it! It's the same thing with the punching. Yer tryin' too hard! Just… let… it… flow.'

"Blah, blah…" Barry relaxed his controls until they were feather-light. Ranma's body assumed a more relaxed posture. His breathing deepened; flowing in through the nose, down into the lungs, expanding the abdomen but not the chest, then back out through the mouth. It reminded Barry of six years of singing lessons, when he was younger. "Okay, now what?"

'How should I know?' Ranma complained and added a bit jealously, 'Yer the one who does this!'

"All right then," Barry considered. He located Ranma's awareness up behind his right eye. "By the way, why are you up there?"

'Up where?'

They eventually determined that the individual out of control tended to drift toward whatever sensation was most critical at the moment. In humans, that normally is sight, and Barry had his eyes open. After some experimentation, they settled down again. After a few minutes…

"You're there," Barry sub-vocalized. "How did you get there so quickly after all this trouble?"

'We didn't eat breakfast this morning. I'm starved!' Ranma complained. Their joint stomach growled mightily. 'Ya know, yer not quite in the right place, aura-wise.'

"You can see it?" Barry exclaimed, his unspoken excitement blasting at Ranma. He winced when Ranma shuddered.

'Yeah, sorta. I just can't figure out what's what. It's disorienting.' Ranma seemed to explore a bit.

"Maybe I should get some water?" Barry suggested. "I started noticing this stuff when you were changing back and forth."

'Okay. Get some water, then.' Ranma waited expectantly.

Barry sat still a moment, trying to decide whether he could find the thermoses without tripping over their meager fire. Finally, he shrugged and opened his eyes.

The sun was just tipping over the top of the cliffs, filling the valley with swirling sheets of glowing mist. It was beautiful and Barry couldn't help pausing to take in the sight. Then Ranma's body shuddered and jerked.

'All right!' Ranma exulted. 'I got it! I just needed to have a reference point! I can see the ki!' Barry danced in glee at the news, swinging around as Ranma experimented with his new talent. 'It looks like mist! And it's glowing!'

Barry stopped dancing. "Uhhh… That is mist and it IS glowing, Ranma. The sun just came up.

Ranma digested that. 'Hell!' he sulked.

"Oh, well. Let's get some breakfast, a workout and a bath," suggested Barry.

"Yeah. Let's…" Ranma said as he took over again. Damn! He could have sworn…

Ryoga watched as the heavy chisel-like beak moved closer. He felt strangely detached and perversely curious as to how it would feel to lose his eye. He thought suddenly of a myth he had heard someplace, where a god had sacrificed an eye to gain wisdom, Woden, or someone like that. He watched the crow take another low hop. One more would bring it close enough to strike. He wondered if somehow this act would change his life or conclude it. The crow leaned forward to hop that last time.

"Hey! Get away from him, ya jerk!"

A rock whistled close, clipping his ear and rebounding right in front of the startled crow. With angry caws, it retreated and took flight. Ryoga's focus broadened again and he realized that the vibrations he had felt earlier had been coming closer and now clearly resolved into running feet.

"Kamisama, Ryoga! How did youget out here?" Then warm hands were scooping up his chilled porcine body.

He wondered briefly who it was. He was certain it wasn't Akari, and everyone else called him P-chan when he was like this. Then the hands shifted to hold him close, almost burning him with their heat. He suddenly realized he was being pressed to twin globes of mammalian origin by those hands, realized where he was...

...And fainted with mild blood loss.

Ranma snorted. Yup! Ryoga, all right. Good thing she had come down to bathe in time to see the crow swoop in. If Barry hadn't been so bloody curious to see what the crow had been interested in…

She shook her head and re-arranged her shirtfront to maximize the heat Ryoga was getting. Internally, Barry was saying something about shock and exposure, but what the hell, Ryoga had seen her this way before, and he was too cold. Turning, she sprinted back to camp to tuck the piglet into her bedding until she could poke up the fire and boil some extra water.

An hour later, Ranma considered Ryoga in the late afternoon light. The lost-boy looked truly lost indeed. He had a dull, uncomprehending look to his eyes and his color was bad. He was totally unresponsive to questions and just barely allowed Ranma to guide him into a spare set of clothing. He huddled close to the fire and shivered from time to time. Ranma had never seen Ryoga look this bad, but he could guess why. Akane must have discovered the truth about P-chan. He patted his friend on the shoulder.

"C'mon, man. Ya knew it had ta end sometime." Ryoga did not react.

"Ryoga, ain't none of us safe from water, hot or cold, while we got the curse. What say you and I head off and try to get ta Jusenkyo again?" Still, there was no response. "Hey, man, it's just as well ya came along. I gotta problem and I need a good, tough martial artist like yerself ta help me out." Ryoga sneezed, which startled Ranma, but otherwise was still.

"Ryoga, I just wanna warn ya," Ranma moved into a position that would allow him to move like lightning away from the lost-boy. "Akane's due here in a couple of days. Now, I ain't plannin' nothin' perverted, ya understand, but I had ta get her out of Nerima while I work on her skills. Shampoo's gonna get annoyed one of these days, and she'll eat Akane alive if she ain't better." Ryoga glanced at Ranma, but remained still as stone otherwise.

'Be careful, Ranma,' Barry advised. 'I've heard of folks going 'postal' when they're like this.'

'Postal?'

'Berserk, killing everyone within reach, just to punish the world for their pain.'

Ranma shivered. It sounded like something Ryoga just might do. He swallowed. He had to snap his friend out of his funk before Akane arrived. He couldn't put up with the threat Ryoga represented in his present state. Alternatively, if Akane saw him, knowing P-chan's secret, she'd probably pummel them both into thin paste. This was developing into a bad situation. Thunder rumbled as clouds began to roll back in.

All right, a worse situation.

Ranma started the next morning much the same way they had ended the previous evening. She had set up Ryoga in the tent, trying to keep him warm and dry, and managed to create a crude fireplace, courtesy of Barry who had built one before. She tried to bully Ryoga into helping, but he continued to be introverted and nearly unreachable.

Though it had taken all day, she felt it was worth the effort. With a little adjustment and the use of native materials, the two-man tent was expanded to a comfortable and dry lean-to, with an attached stove/heat source.

Over Barry's objections, Ranma had even attempted a semi-striptease to try to get some reaction out of him. She was going to bathe anyway, following the afternoon workout, and acted on the spur of the moment. Ryoga looked on with a glazed expression for a few seconds before simply dropping his eyes to the ground. No reaction... No gushing blood... Nothing. Ranma huffed, irritated.

"Hey, pig-boy! Look at me! I don't show off my tits fer just anyone, ya know!"

'Ranma! Why do you need to show off your tits at all?' Barry seemed upset for some reason. Ranma snorted at the visitor and her friend, and stalked off to the lake.

"Figured the embarrassment might snap him out of it. I've drawn blood that way," she added proudly.

'I'm sure you have,' came the dry reply. 'I really can't figure you out. Isn't this the guy who's trying to take advantage of your fiancée?'

"Well…"

'Are you certain you're not competing in some way, on some level, with Akane for him?' Barry asked suspiciously. 'Trust me, you don't want to go there!'

"I'm a guy, dammit!"

'The change is complete and absolute, Ranma. Everything, down to the hormone balances and the fine brain structure, even a womb, for God's sake. It all has to change, too, to survive the change.'

'I'm a guy, Barry!' Ranma insisted. 'Ryoga's a pain, but he's a friend, too. I hate to see him like this.'

'Yeah, whatever! Maybe I'm over-reacting, but I could have sworn you were getting some jollies out of doing that. Sorry, I've never experienced the female body first-hand like this, and it's unsettling.'

'Tell me about it!' Ranma finished her bath and rapidly toweled herself dry. Ryoga was a problem that she couldn't dismiss. In her mind, he was a serious threat unless they could somehow break him out of this funk. If he suddenly did a depression blast, all that would be left of the island would be a deep hole under the water. Not a pleasant thought.

Eventually, Ranma changed back to boy-type and continued Barry's training, always watching in case Ryoga showed signs of freaking or becoming aware. He coaxed Ryoga to eat that evening, curling up afterwards in his sleeping bag under a clear sky.

Suddenly, as he watched a falling star, he froze and held his breath, mind racing.

"Yes!" Ranma did a jig by the stream and around the banked fire. 'Ryoga and I are martial artists, first, last and always,' he informed Barry. 'Ta catch a martial artist, do martial arts!'

'The new ki techniques?'

'Yup!'

Ranma and Barry had experimented with Ranma's ki technique, the Mouko Takabisha, while Barry observed the lines of force that ran through Ranma's body. With Barry's unique observational angle, they worked out a half dozen new techniques using ki, some subtle, some spectacular, including the development of what Ranma called 'ki-vision'. Ranma planned to catch the lost-boy's attention right where they were both the most competitive.

Early the next morning, he began with warm-ups and standard kata and then began the basic Mouko Takabisha Ryoga was familiar with. To Ranma's observant eye, Ryoga was paying more attention than he had the last few days. Then they pushed the power up to interesting levels. Ryoga was treated to a Mouko Takabisha that screamed off into the sky with the energy of a large bomb. When Ranma detonated it, 150 meters up, the blast sent waves across the lake you could surf on. Ranma smirked, as Ryoga's jaw hung open. It was easily as powerful as Ryoga's Shishi Houkudan but without the exhaustion the lost-boy experienced as a side effect.

Next, Ranma brought his hands together, as if starting another Mouko Takabisha, and compressed the glowing ball almost to a pinpoint. Snapping his hands apart, Ranma suddenly held a sword made entirely of energy, the Katana Chikara. He concentrated and suddenly had two blades. As he maneuvered through the standard forms of Mutsabetsu Kakuto: Saotome School of Two Swords, he occasionally flicked the blade at rocks and small trees around the clearing. Spinning blades would streak off, which chipped and splintered the boulders, but shredded the small trees. Solid strikes did the same.

Experimenting further, Ranma snapped his 'sword' like a whip, which caused it to stretch and create steaming little holes in anything less dense than stone. Stone pocked with sharp explosions. This was not exactly as expected or desired; and the ki research team of Ranma Saotome and Barry Barlowe went into action.

Certain restraints were tightened then relaxed, as the performance of the blade of energy was evaluated. It broadened, but thinned again; the color changed from searing blue to a soft green. Finally, it lengthened and the motion of wrist and arm spun the filament out in a long spiral. Ranma discarded a blade and switched from kendo forms to martial arts rhythmic gymnastics.

The ki-ribbon spun and swirled. It sliced like the sword at first, but additional modifications allowed it to interact without destruction. Ranma's first attempt to grab a rock with it went badly, pulsing energy into the rock and shattering it. Several other rocks met a similar fate; then an internal consultation allowed them to use the ribbon as a communication line, to convince the target to move in the chosen direction, using the ki inherent to the object.

Gasping, overextended by the workout, Ranma released the ki and stumbled back, only to be caught and steadied by an awe-struck Ryoga.

"How the hell did you do that, Ranma?" the lost-boy demanded, astonished, definitely jealous and obviously determined to match his rival as soon as he had the chance. Ranma grinned from ear to ear.

"Welcome back, Ryoga. I think I'll call that one: Ribon o Tsukéru. Let me take a breather and I'll explain."

Toward lunchtime, Barry agreed with Ranma that Ryoga had a thick skull.

"Right, Ranma," the latter said, in obvious disbelief. "One: You have a little gaijin running around in your skull who's helping you learn ki attacks, even though he's never heard of ki before." He smirked. "Two: He grabs total control of your skills and is ready to attack Nabiki, who's being a pain as usual. Three: You come out here to figure out how to put a leash on him." Ryoga's smirk grew larger. "Well, I shouldn't be too surprised. After all, there's enough empty space up there for it to be possible."

"Grrr!"

'Down, boy!'

'But...'

'Let me take this one,' returned Barry. 'I think I can convince him.'

"Ryoga, I understand you are something of a traveler."

"Is this supposed to be 'Barry', Ranma? How can a gaijin speak better Japanese than you do?"

""Would you prefer better English than Ranma is capable of, Mr. Hibiki? That is my native tongue, after all.""

""Th-th-that is very good,"" stuttered Ryoga in the same language. ""Where did you learn English?""

""It's called Steel City in this universe, Mr. Hibiki, located in the northeast United States of America. Fortunately for Ranma, I don't seem to be of this world. I might be dragging him off overseas to let my wife know what happened, otherwise.""

Ryoga was sweating. It was just barely possible that Ranma might, for a joke, manage to improve his English in order to play some trick on him. "Do you know any other languages?"

"A little German and some Spanish, or if you like, 'Ich versteht Deutsche nicht sehr gut; aber, Yo comprendo Español un poco!"

Ryoga sat back stunned. He could get by in about twenty different languages and dialects, most from the Pacific Rim, including German, Spanish, Portuguese and English. He knew Ranma was uninterested in that facet of knowledge, and would be lucky if his attempt to ask for directions, in any language other than Japanese, didn't result in a coarse insult being delivered instead. This Ranma's English had been excellent, but had a twist that indicated regional origins, as opposed to classic diction. His German and Spanish held hints of the original accent of the spoken English, and carried the mark of schooled accents as well.

"How do you speak Japanese so well?"

"I speak through Ranma, a little like hearing what to say and speaking it, even though I don't understand if the sentence is exactly what I meant."

"But Ranma's Japanese stinks!"

"What can I say? He's lazy, and he never did give any respect to anyone. Did you ever consider that he's deliberatelyrude, rather than accidentally so?" Barry turned control back to Ranma.

"Tell me next time before ya give my secrets away, dammit!" Ryoga glared at Ranma as he spoke out loud to his guest. "Face it, Ryoga, I spend most of my time keeping everybody at arm's length and off balance." He stared defiantly at the lost-boy.

Ryoga's glare slowly died to be replaced by something akin to pity. "And I thought I was alone..."

"I don't want or need your pity, bacon bits!"

"No, you need a swift kick in the butt, Ranma!"

"Think you're up to it, pork chop?"

"Let's find out," Ryoga said with a gleam of fang. "Eat leather, Ranma!" From a sitting position, Ryoga's foot snapped out in a rising kick designed to plant a print across Ranma's face.

Ranma mentally sat back and said to Barry, 'You're on!'

'What!' Barry dodged, in his panic, snatching up the reins and using Ranma's speed and skill to launch the foot high and the momentum gained to begin an attack against Ryoga's exposed back. Ranma, now as able as Barry to see the auras acting within their common body, tweaked ki to reduce what could have been a devastating blow.

Ryoga turned slightly and the blow glanced off a hip instead of impacting solidly on the unprotected kidneys. Ryoga had already begun a rising leap and casually threw a backhand at Ranma to test a reaction. The look on his face told Barry that Ryoga was well aware whom he was really sparring with. Barry gulped and started trying to extrapolate counters more than a few milliseconds in advance, while somewhere in the back of his head an unconcerned voice soothingly encouraged him.

"That's it, Barry! Watch him close; he likes to drive straight through. Pity he doesn't have his umbrella with him, it makes things much more interesting. Now, watch those bandannas. Watch it! That's my hide yer letting him mess up."

It wouldn't have been so bad, if Ranma had not presented an image of himself, or rather herself in a bikini on a beach, calmly enjoying a sticky looking ice cream confection while fanning herself with a sun hat.

'Jerk!' Barry mentally yelled, as he gained a moment's respite. "Wuff!" Well, he thought he had.

"Now, now! Keep yer mind on business, I always say. Remember, what hurts me, hurts you."

Much later, as the sun dipped behind the trees, two very tired young men recovered after a battle, a bath and some hot water. They traded insults, news and criticisms of Barry's fighting adaptations. One thing Ranma inquired about during this was why Ryoga was out here and in the condition he was in.

Ryoga was adamant.

"I don't want to talk about it, Ranma. Let's just say I can never go back to being P-chan. I don't even dare go back to Nerima, in case I turn into P-chan! You've won; I've lost. But if you dare hurt Akane with your womanizing ways, I'll hunt you to the depths of hell, if I have to!" Finishing, he glared at Ranma, daring him to push further.

"Ummm… Right." Ranma looked at the ground. "Speakin' of the tomboy, do you remember me sayin' Akane's supposed ta meet me out here in a few days?"

"What!" Ryoga acted like his flesh was about to peel off his bones. His fighting aura broke out as he came up on his toes, prepared to deal Ranma a terrible fate.

"Whoa, P-chan! Ya think I'da told ya, if I planned anythin' perverted? Slow down! I don't wanna hafta get cleaned off again."

Ryoga slowed to a stop and stood there, fists clenching and unclenching.

"Look, pig-breath, Akane's greatest danger, aside from assorted kidnappings..."

"Which are your fault mostly," Ryoga injected, darkly.

"...Is Shampoo and Cologne. If they ever decide I'm choosin' her, they just might try ta kill her and, with the training she's got, she won't stand a chance." He glared at Ryoga, who shrugged. "I figure she can stand some trainin'. I just can't hit her. I know youwon't; so I figure, Barry's elected."

'What!' Barry hadn't expected this from Ranma. 'Dammit, Ranma! I rue the day I taught you about elevator music.'

"I don't see what difference it makes, if it's your body that hits her," Ryoga scowled and rubbed the back of his head. "Besides, Akane's very good, even compared to the average professional. Barry's a total amateur!" He smacked his hands together like a thunderclap. "I don't like it."

"Well, it's a good thing you're here and we've got a few days. You can help me work Barry until we're satisfied he'll do it right. In return, we'll see what we can do ta show ya a few new ki tricks."

Two figures made ready for bed while a third, unseen being silently cursed and objected to the role that was being forced on him. His objection was unheard on one hand and ignored on the other. Ryoga, out of habit, slept in the shelter, too paranoid at the helplessness of his curse to chance sleeping outside. Ranma didn't care if he changed, and set up where he could watch the night stars.

"It's a good plan," he told Barry in an effort to silence the complaints. "In a few days we'll be set." Finally peace descended, and sleep claimed weary muscles.

Too bad they didn't have a few days.