Wanderer3: I usually make a list from first review received to the last( you know, bottom of the page to the top).

Triaxx2: Thanks for pointing that out.

Thanks to: Seamus Dubh, GargoyleSama, Darkcloud1, daywalkr82, drakwolfstoppable, Spyke the Hedgehog, campy, Cold-Chaos, MatthewC, Alan Wilkinson, Anghammarad, mattb3671 and Visigoth29527.

It was a long walk from where the bus dropped them off to the gates of the secret ninja school on the upper slopes of Mount Yamanouchi. Unlike the last time he'd come here, Ron was in much better shape, so the hike was easier, and he had time to enjoy the scenery.

"It's really beautiful here," Kim said softly, marveling at the twisted white strands of a fast flowing mountain stream as it tumbled down the wooded slope of the far wall of the valley. Low hanging clouds shrouded the peak, obscuring such sights until they were almost on top of them, making each one an unexpected surprise.

Ron nodded in agreement. The misty air seemed to blanket the area in silence, yet at the same time the woods were alive with the sound of running water. He adjusted the straps of his backpack and studied the trail.

"It's about another half mile to the bridge," he said, referring to the rope bridge that spanned a deep canyon below the school. "Then another half mile of serious climbing to the campus itself."

Kim gave him a skeptical look. "This hasn't been a serious climb?" she asked, reminding him with a single raised eyebrow of the numerous rest stops he'd taken as they made their way up the mountain.

Ron just grinned. For Kim the hike hadn't been a problem. Her backpack was even heavier than his was, since she'd brought more clothes. But of course, she wasn't even breathing hard.

"Compared to what's coming, this has been easy," he assured her.

The man known to generations of students as Sensei was sitting beneath a tree just outside the gates of the main compound of the school. He was waiting for Ron Stoppable to arrive, and was passing the time by meditating. A number of students were in the area as well. Some were emulating their teacher, but most were either studying or relaxing.

Sensei allowed himself an inward smile. It might be more accurate to sat the students were pretending to meditate, or study, or relax. That one of the two living wielders of the mystical monkey power (three if you counted a certain naked mole rat) was returning to Yamanouchi was no secret. That said master was not alone was still a secret, at least to the general student body. Sensei knew, of course. A prudent man kept track of events, and of the doings of the people around him, even his friends. Older students had been dispatched to monitor and report on Stoppable-san's progress, and had passed word that he was not alone.

Sensei considered the matter of Kim Possible. After learning that Stoppable-san possessed the monkey power Sensei had set out to learn as much as he could about the young man. That included, by extension, the young woman who was Stoppable-san's friend. Accounts from Sensei's agents said Possible was an almost super-humanly gifted athlete, brave to the point of foolhardiness, and the dominant member of Team Possible, at least on missions. In non-mission matters she seemed more on a par with Stoppable-san, but still took the lead most of the time.

Oddly, Stoppable-san seemed not to resent, even slightly, the fact that much of his life was spent in Possible's shadow. That was a good sign, Sensei decided, as was the fact that Stoppable-san could and did step out of that shadow from time to time, with great effect.

From what Sensei had seen with his own eyes, Stoppable-san had a passive, almost submissive, personality...up to a point anyway. It wasn't that he was weak, but more as if he could not be bothered to act until a certain amount of pressure had been applied.

Sensei reflected further, and decided even that idea was imperfect, because the event that triggered Stoppable-san to action might come early or late, be great or small, might even pass unrecognized (except in hind-sight) by others. Yet Stoppable-san always recognized and took advantage of it. So it was, Sensei concluded, that Stoppable-san wasted no effort (or at least as little as possible) until the time to strike a single, decisive blow arrived.

Sensei reached out with his mind. Skilled as he was in the mystical aspects of the martial arts, it took all of his concentration and effort to search down the path and find Stoppable-san and his friend. When he did so Sensei couldn't help but grunt in surprise, his face twitching slightly. Stoppable-san was there, as expected, his aura shining with his usual joyful outlook on life. He seemed happy and at ease, and not at all concerned with the strange aura that came with him.

Sensei frowned slightly. All living things had a certain energy, to one degree or another, that a trained mind could perceive. Sensei could make out the dim, ghostly auras of trees and bushes, the tiny but substantially brighter beacons of insects and other small creatures, even the occasional sika deer or brown bear. The aura of each life form was unique, but all had a broad common underpinning that made them instantly recognizable. The aura following Stoppable-san was like nothing Sensei had ever seen, even when he had probed the realm of the dark spirits in the foolish days of his youth. The thing, whatever it was, fairly sizzled with power. Was it Stoppable-san's friend? If so, she was, despite appearances, as far from human as any creature Sensei had ever encountered and...

"Master Sensei! Master Sensei!" The shouted words tore the old man from his reflections. A commotion was brewing within the gates. A young man (in relative terms: he was easily in his thirties) came running out, a naked sword in his hand. A wave of bodies followed him, teachers and students alike, all armed, some with weapons that should not have been taken from the armory without Sensei's permission. They took up defensive positions at the head of the path down the mountain.

"What is the meaning of this?" Sensei demanded sternly.

The girl Yori, one of his most promising students, split off from the crowd and approached, bowing low.

"Master Sensei," she exclaimed breathlessly, "Master Masatake said..." Yori paused and took a deep breath. "He says an oni is coming!"

Sensei snorted and rose stiffly to his feet.

"Something unusual is coming," he acknowledged, his voice pitched so everyone could hear him. "But it is no demon," he said with a shake of his head.

Master Masatake, a solidly built man with short, salt-and-pepper hair, pushed his way through the mass of people. He too was armed, though his sword was still in its sheath on his back. He bowed deeply.

"Sensei-sama, I mean no disrespect, but are you sure? I have never felt anything like what now approaches."

Sensei returned the bow. "Masatake-sama, I share your confusion over the nature of the creature below, but it is in Stoppable-san's presence, and he is not concerned." The reply was very formal, as befitting one master addressing another,for Sensei had no desire to shame Masatake in front of the others. Had he not known Stoppable-san was bringing a friend, he too would have been concerned. He still was, in fact, but not so much as he might have been.

Masatake's lips twitched, ever so slightly, as he held back a grin. Straightening he said, "Young Stoppable is not always aware of what is going on around him, Sensei-sama."

"True," Sensei admitted, not quite able to keep the amusement he felt out of his voice. "But I think we will reserve judgment until we know more, Masatake-sama."

Masatake bowed again. "It shall be as you say, Master." He turned and began ordering the students and teachers back to their routines.

Sensei returned his gaze to the path, and the rope bridge far below. What, he wondered, was this creature traveling with Stoppable-san doing amongst mortals, and why was it disguising itself as a human? What was its true nature? What were its intentions? Time would tell.

Kim gripped the rope rails of the swaying bridge and looked down. She was glad she wasn't afraid of heights. The canyon was narrow, but deep.

'Five hundred feet, if it's an inch,' she thought. Far below, a ribbon of blue-white water swirled around tumbled boulders. The prospect of falling that far didn't sit well with her. She was incredibly tough (how many people could shrug off light auto-cannon fire with nothing to show for it but a bruise?) but that didn't mean she'd be a happy camper when she hit bottom. At the very least she'd be cold and wet, with a long climb ahead of her. But Kim knew the odds of her falling were so slight as to not be worth mentioning. Her sense of balance was as acute as any of her others.

Ron was a different story. He had issues with heights, among many others, and had a death grip on the ropes. But he was moving steadily, setting a good pace. Kim smiled at his back. Her cousin Joss was right about him, she reflected. Scared, Ron might be, but he had courage in abundance. Oh sure, he was prone to initial panic (though not so much now-a-days), but he always knuckled down in the end.

That was why he had started across the bridge with no more than a quick look down and a slight gulp.

He hadn't been kidding about the serious climb thing either. At the opposite end of the bridge the path became much steeper. It was well maintained, and had been made easier by judicious improvements, but it was still a demanding road.

"Couldn't they make the climb a little easier?" Kim asked as she followed a grunting, gasping Ron.

"Sure," he wheezed, pausing for breath. "But Sensei said it's part of the school's defenses, and even if they don't have to worry about rogue shogun's or samurai armies anymore, it still discourages unwanted visitors."

Kim shrugged indifferently. The tenacity with which some people clung to tradition baffled her. Sure, it was nice to remember the old ways, but would a cable car, or even just proper stairs, be too much to ask?

"You want me to carry your pack?" she offered, suspecting that Ron would decline.

"No thanks, K.P.," Ron said, shaking his head. "I need the exercise."

The climb turned out to be worth it, though. The Yamanouchi School sat on a rocky promontory, overlooking gorgeous alpine meadows and scattered clumps of trees. Snowfields lay below, around, and above it, contrasting with the stark beauty of the flowery meadows. Above it all towered the peak of Mount Yamanouchi, glistening in its mantle of snow and ice.

Outside the walled compound of the school, beneath a spreading evergreen tree, sat a small, wizened man with long white hair and a beard and moustache of the same color. With him was a slender figure clad in black, its back to Ron and Kim.

The second figure rose and turned. It was a girl, Kim saw, with dark hair and exotic, almond shaped eyes. The girl's face was expressionless, but her eyes sparkled with recognition.

"Stoppable-san," she said, bowing deeply, "Yamanouchi is honored by your presence."

Ron returned the bow, a grin lighting his face. "It was my honor to climb the mountain…again," he jested. The girl's expression didn't change a whit, Kim noted. Was this Ron's secret crush from his time here? If so, she seemed a little on the frosty side.

Rufus, meanwhile, had awakened and clambered up on Ron's shoulder. He yawned, stretched, and took a look around.

"Yori!" he squealed, and launched himself at the girl. In a moment Rufus had his tiny arms as far around Yori's neck as he could manage. His exuberance broke Yori's reserve. She giggled and took Rufus in her hands, planting a kiss on the top of his head.

"It is good to see you again, pink one," she smiled. "You also, Stoppable-san," she added, all pretense of stoicism gone. Ron got a kiss as well, right on the lips, which made him blush bright red.

"Hey, Yori," Ron stammered, hugging her briefly. He turned to the old man and bowed deeply. Rufus, again on his shoulder, imitated the gesture.

"Master Sensei, I have returned as you asked," Ron said formally.

"With a guest," Sensei rejoined. "Does that not violate the charge I gave you, not to tell of your adventure here?"

'The existence of the school is not a secret, Master. Only its true nature is, and of that, I have said nothing."

Sensei smiled. "Well said, Stoppable-san." The old man rose and crossed to where Kim and Ron stood.

"Uh, Master, Yori, this is Kim, by the way. My friend, Kim Possible," Ron clarified.

Sensei and Yori both bowed, making Kim feel more than a little awkward.

"Welcome to the Yamanouchi School, Kim Possible. We are honored to have you as a guest," Sensei greeted her.

"It's my pleasure," Kim said, trying to hide her embarrassment.

"You must be tired after your climb," Sensei went on. "Come, I will walk with you to the guest house, which has been made ready for you. There you can rest and refresh yourselves. This evening, you will be the guests of honor at a formal dinner."

The guest house Sensei referred to was tucked away behind one of the dormitories. Sensei took his leave of Kim and Ron at the threshold, leaving Yori to let them in and show them around.

"Doesn't look quite like I always imagined Japanese architecture, let alone the rest of the school," Kim mused aloud.

Yori smiled. "Yamanouchi is an old school, but the guest house is relatively new. It was built in the late sixteenth century to accommodate European visitors. As such, it has a strong Western influence in its design."

Kim decided to take Yori's word for it. Exactly what those influences were, she had no idea.

Yori showed them the bedrooms that had been prepared for them, as well as the toilets and bathing facilities. Both were a touch on the primitive side: a self-composting (and surprisingly odorless latrine) and a simple wooden tub in a room with an antique looking cast iron boiler in which to heat water. A scuttle of shiny black coal sat nearby.

"Quaint," Kim murmured under her breath.

Ron announced his intention to take a nap before dinner. Yori invited Kim to take a walk with her, and Rufus decided to accompany them. As the women strolled around the grounds Yori pointed out features of interest and made small talk. Kim got the impression that Yori was working up to something but declined to press the matter.

"Possible-san," Yori asked finally, her voice blunter than Kim expected, "What do you know about Yamanouchi?"

Kim smiled thinly. "Checking Ron's story?" she asked.

"Yes," Yori replied unhesitatingly. Then, somewhat awkwardly, "I consider Stoppable-san a friend, but his bringing you here was a shock to most of us...for a number of reasons."

Kim thought she caught evasiveness in Yori's voice and expression, and wondered just what bush Yori was beating around.

"I know what I heard from Mister Barkin when he announced the exchange program, and a little more that I found out on-line."

"Such as?" Yori prompted.

"That Yamanouchi has a long history, at least a thousand years worth. That it's the most exclusive school in Japan, maybe in the world, in that it accepts no applications: admission is by invitation only, and being a Yamanouchi graduate is considered the highest possible academic achievement in Japan."

"Anything else?"

Kim smirked a little. "I suspect two things: the first is that Ron crushed on someone he met here," she said with a pointed glance at her companion. Yori's cheeks reddened, but she said nothing. "The second is that the curriculum here includes a healthy dose of martial arts training, possibly ninjitsu. I base that on the significant improvement in Ron's fighting prowess when he came back."

"You are an astute observer, Possible-san," Yori allowed.

'More astute than you realize,' Kim thought but didn't say. Her eyes and ears had noted the presence of a number of surreptitious observers shadowing the two women as they walked. It was possible the onlookers were merely curious, but Kim suspected a more artful purpose to their actions.

Kim frowned thoughtfully. Just what was this place Ron had brought her to? What were their intentions? Probably not sinister, she decided. After all, they had helped Ron become a better fighter, and shown him a how to control and use the mystical monkey power, at least a little. They might have an agenda for Ron, but that didn't mean they meant him harm. 'I'll just wait and see,' Kim told herself.

Not far away, on the flank of Mount Higashidate, the international fugitive known as Monkey Fist peered through a telescope at the walls of the Yamanouchi School. Once the scion of an old and noble English family, Monkey Fist had squandered his family's considerable wealth in an effort to become a master of both Tai-shing-pek-kwar and of the mystical monkey power that was key to ultimate mastery. He had come close to succeeding, only to be thwarted on the brink of absolute triumph by that clumsy buffoon, Ron Stoppable.

Bent on vengeance, Monkey Fist had been forced into hiding while he rebuilt his fortune. It had taken a couple of years, doing what amounted to grunt work for various Asian criminal cartels, but he had done it. More importantly, he now commanded an army (about one hundred and fifty, so more like a company, but why quibble over details?) of monkey ninjas, and was in a position to avenge his wounded aristocratic pride. Stoppable's return to Yamanouchi was a double blessing. Not only could Monkey Fist kill Stoppable, he could seize once more the Lotus Blade, along with the other weapons of power the school guarded. It was all as the prophecy had said. He had only to wait for the opportune moment, about three weeks hence, and victory was assured.

Monkey Fist turned his baggy, blood-shot eyes to the shadowy figures behind him.

"Soon, my monkey ninjas," he crooned. "At the full moon, we strike!" The monkey ninjas responded with shrieks and hoots, and sunlight glinted off the steel blades of upraised weapons.

The taxi threaded its way through the streets of London's Soho district. The man known as Duff Killigan sat in the back seat with two of his men and tried to keep the irritation he felt off his face. He didn't muchcare forLondon. The British capital was too big and crowded for his liking. Edinburgh would have suited him better, or better still the little pub in the Lochalsh Hotel in Kyle on Scotland's west coast. A more beautiful place for a meeting would be hard to find, and farther away from prying eyes it would be hard to get.

Killigan sighed. Alas, his mysterious patron had given a London address. Killigan snorted. It wasn't every day an envelope stuffed with five thousand in sterling and a note with an address and an offer of employment came in the Post. Whoever this Dr. Drakken was, he seemed to have plenty of money. That was always a good sign. It only remained to find out what serviceKiiligan would have to render to get more of the good Doctor's funds.

The taxi braked to a halt on a side street. "Here y' are, Guv'n'a," the cabbie said, his phony, for-the-tourists Cockney accent grating on Killigan's ears. One of his men paid the tab, and then the three of them were standing on the sidewalk, looking at their destination. It was a drab building in a drab neighborhood. Punks, skinheads, Goths and various other unsavory types were scattered about. A few cast curious or angry looks at Killigan and his Armani suit. He didn't ignore them: a prudent fellow always paid attention to the people around him. But he took no action, either.

"Tom, you and Clarence wait outside. I'll call you if I need you." With that, Killigan rang the bell.

The door opened. A strikingly lovely woman in a low cut dress of green and black silk greeted him with a smile.

"Hello, Mister Killigan, please come in."

"Ah, Miss Shego," Killigan smiled, recognizing the green skinned beauty instantly. "So you're working for this Dr. Drakken, too, eh?"

"In a matter of speaking,' Shego purred. She favored Killigan with a flirtatious smile. "Follow me, please. Dr. Drakken is waiting for you." She turned and led the way deeper into the building. Her dress, Killigan noted, was very thin, and left little to the imagination. Her hips swayed suggestively as she walked, and Killigan felt his blood stirring.

"It'll be my pleasure, lassie," he murmured honestly.