Disclaimer: Ranma ½ is the property of the inestimable Takahashi Rumiko-sensei and is used without permission. This is a piece of fan fiction and no profit is being made off it.
Tendo Nabiki casually walked down the streets of Nerima, pausing every so often to wipe the sweat from her brow. It was the middle of summer, and Tokyo and the rest of Japan sweltered under a heat wave. Had she been headed anywhere else, Nabiki would have taken an air-conditioned taxi to her destination, but walking through Nerima some how made it more real for Nabiki, renewing her attachment to the place where she had grown up. She took in the sights that had not changed since she left and sighed sadly. Nerima had died since the departure of the bunch of oddball martial artists collectively known as the Nerima Wrecking Crew had vanished, some how becoming a place frozen in time, waiting for something to happen, but nothing ever did any more.
It had all started just after Ranma and Akane's final year at high school, the year after the failed wedding, a year of high tensions, passions running amok and desperate acts. Ever since the wedding, when it became apparent that, though they would not say it, Ranma and Akane truly did love each other, Ranma's fiancées and Akane's would be paramours grew more and more desperate in their attempts to break the couple up. Akane and Ukyo's tenuous friendship was strained to the absolute limit and often they were barely able to remain civil to each other, while Shampoo had done everything short of trying to murder both of them in their sleep and Kodachi's tricks had gotten dirtier and more dangerous.
Kuno had been equally desperate, even going so far as to flout the law and openly carry a katana and it was only because of the fact that his image as a noble samurai warrior had to be maintained that no one ever got hurt in those fights. Ryoga's attacks had also taken on a desperate, vicious edge and at times it seemed that the lost boy was about to lose his increasingly fragile grip on sanity. The only positive thing there had been that, for reasons known only to himself, Mousse had called a truce with Ranma and though they were far from the best of friends, the two were actually polite to each other, though at times that too had been strained and almost fell back into feuding on more than one occasion. Personally Nabiki found it something of a miracle that those of the wrecking crew who attended school managed to graduate and it had seemed only a matter of time until there was a fatality. Then, the day after graduation, Ranma vanished.
It came as a complete surprise to everyone; especially Nabiki and she had fumed about being tricked. Everyone had searched high and low for the Jusenkyo cursed, pig-tailed martial artist, but no one was able to find him. The only two people who had seemed absolutely unconcerned were Genma and Akane. When questioned over his lack of worry, Genma only replied why should he worry, since Ranma knew perfectly well how to take care of himself. Akane's calm acceptance was odder, but when questioned, she only smiled and said that Ranma had left her a note, and while it didn't say where he had gone, it told her all she needed to know. She had swallowed the note after committing it to memory and she refused to give any details about it. Then, two days before the results of the university entrance exams came out, Akane vanished as well.
Nabiki had expected that her father would break down in tears as he normally did, but he took the incident with an astonishing degree of equanimity. Akane had also left a note, though this one was for public consumption and had been left stuck to the fridge door with a magnet. It said, "I go to find the questions for the answers I already know." That cryptic parting message had apparently been enough to assure Soun about Akane's safety, though it had not kept Nabiki or Kasumi from worrying. Nabiki had used every contact that she had, some of them perfectly legal, some only quasi-legal at best, to try and find her, but the search for Akane was equally fruitless as the one for Ranma had been.
That had been the turning point. A week later Mousse left without a word of explanation to anyone. Ryoga had shown up a month after that, had the situation explained to him and shown Akane's cryptic note. His only reply had been a noncommittal grunt and no one had seen or heard from him since. Not long after that, Ucchan's was found closed with only a note from Ukyo saying she had business in Okinawa. Konatsu left a few days later, heading for somewhere in Hokkaido. A few weeks after the closing of Ucchan's, Shampoo had left for parts unknown, though Cologne stayed and a few other Amazons came along to help her run the place. Eventually, the only members of the Nerima Wrecking Crew left were the Kuno siblings and they rattled around in their mansion like ghosts, all noise and no substance.
It had not just been the Nerima Wrecking Crew that had left though, Ranma's friends Hiroshi and Daisuke had left to attend university, as had Akane's friends Yuka and Saiyuri. Hinako-sensei was transferred to another school, though she and Soun still kept in touch, Gosunkugi Hikaru gave up photography, denounced voodoo and left to become a priest at a mountain shrine and all the others that had hovered at the edges of the ongoing saga that had been Ranma's life gradually drifted away. Even Happosai was rarely seen any more and Nabiki herself had moved closer to campus in her second year. The only real highlight of life in Nerima since Ranma's departure had been Dr. Tofu's return and his proposal to Kasumi. She had accepted of course and now they both lived at the Tendo home, Tofu making the brief walk to his clinic every morning.
Nabiki herself had not been idle either. Moving closer to campus and reducing the daily commute had given her a lot more free time, and she had decided to use the extra time to take the accelerated course. Her degree had been a business degree of course and not only had she finished the accelerated course, she had graduated sume cum luade, just in time for the Market Crisis of 2004. Due to a number of various reasons, the American stock market had crashed catastrophically and that sent shockwaves rippling through the rest of the financial world. Japan's market had almost gone the same way as America's, but it had also been an opportunity for great gain if one was willing to take the risks. Nabiki, the ink on her diploma still wet so to speak, had risked everything and her gamble succeeded. Nabiki's incredible gamble, and the ventures of a few other equally brave souls had been encouragement enough that the market was kept from utter collapse, though it had been a close thing. The reward of course was that in a nation where business was still dominated by men, Nabiki stood above the heads of most men.
It had also been during those, wild, desperate days of riding the whirlwind of an economy spiralling out of control, that Nabiki had met Shinta. Rare were the men not scared off by Nabiki's drive and ambition, and most of those saw Nabiki as a rival at best, or a hated enemy at worst. Shinta, an aspiring young architect, had no reason to see her as enemy or rival, nor had he been frightened away by her ambition. "What is the reason for dreaming, if you don't dream big," he had once said to her. Their romance was slow and measured, like the steps of an old fashioned dance, Shinta reaching out past the ice queen facade that Nabiki had cultivated so long, it had almost become reflex, till one, long, glorious night they had spent in each other's arms. It was their first time together, and their last. The next day, as Nabiki waved goodbye and Shinta crossed the street, a driver lost control of his car. There was nothing Nabiki could do as he died in her arms.
That moment had almost destroyed her. She had retreated into herself, and all that she had built threatened to fall through her fingers and she didn't care. Then her brother-in-law gave her a piece of news that she had not expected. She was pregnant. That had been all the incentive that Nabiki needed and she through herself back into her work, vowing that her child would have a mother to be proud of. Nine month's later she gave birth to healthy baby girl she named Ai. Ai was currently staying with her paternal grandparents, though the energetic little four year old was disappointed at not getting to see her cousin, Kasumi and Tofu's son Kazuma, who currently couldn't decide wether he wanted to be a world famous doctor, or a world famous chef.
Nabiki paused a moment to put a few coins into a vending machine and punched the button for a can of juice. As she rolled the can over her forehead, she wondered if they would get another postcard. Though Ranma and Akane were unable to be found, about six month's after their respective departures, postcards and letters started arriving at the Tendo dojo, some from Ranma, some from Akane. They almost immediately nixed the idea that they had agreed to meet up together somewhere after they pulled their vanishing acts. A month or so after Akane's first postcard arrived, two postcards arrived, one from Ranma, another from Akane. They were both bore the same date, but Ranma's was from Rio de Janeiro and Akane's was from Sri Lanka, the postmarks bearing both out. They arrived intermittently and occasionally included parcels containing birthday and Christmas gifts. Nabiki didn't know how they found out, but they had also sent cards on condolence for Shinta's death, arriving only days after the funeral, and presents for both the birth of Kazuma and Ai.
Nabiki took a long swig from the can, savouring the cool feel of the juice sliding down her throat and the sweet tang on her tongue. As she lowered the can, she caught sight of a familiar face, though one she had not seen for a long time. He was nearly a block down the road and about to turn the corner, so Nabiki placed the can on top of the vending machine, abandoned dignity and cupped her hands around her mouth. "Hiroshi!"
The figure paused and looked in her direction. "Nabiki?" came a surprised reply, made faint by the distance.
Nabiki nodded and waved that he should join her, then retrieved her can of juice and headed to meet Hiroshi. "Hiroshi, it's been along time," she said as they came close enough to each other to talk without shouting. "What's the premiere sports writer in all of Tokyo doing in Nerima? I thought that you had an apartment somewhere over in Sumo Town."
"I did," Hiroshi admitted. "Please note the past tense. Then for some reason I got a yearning to see the old place again, decided to hell with the commute and moved back. I'd ask what you're doing here, but I know, since your father and Kasumi still live here. I ran into them earlier this morning and I must say, you're nephew promises to be a real heartbreaker when he grows up. Might even give Ranma a run for his money."
"Please, spare me," Nabiki said, rolling her eyes dramatically. "I don't think I could live through that all again."
Hiroshi nodded thoughtfully. "I know what you mean. Things were getting really out of control at the end there. I used to enjoy watching the fights, but towards the end they were getting plain scary and every time one started, I was looking for cover."
"I wouldn't say that things were out of control," Nabiki objected. "If they had been really out of control, none of us would have known what hit us. Still, things were very tense."
"That they were," Hiroshi agreed. "As bad as it was though, everything seemed to stop once Ranma left though, and I don't just mean the fights. I mean everything. It was if the life had gone completely out of the place."
Nabiki nodded thoughtfully. "I was just thinking the same thing earlier."
The conversation would have gone on longer, but just then Hiroshi's watch beeped and he made his apologies, since he had a train to catch and couldn't afford to be late. He finished up with an invitation for Nabiki to join him for lunch at the Nekohanten one day to catch up on old times.
As he left, Nabiki felt some of her energy return, despite the sapping heat. Hiroshi hadn't really contributed much to the dynamic of Nerima, mainly just hormonal comments about Ranma's female form, or agreeing to the same when said by his partner in puberty, Daisuke, but with his return, Nerima seemed just a little bit more alive again, as if gaining energy from memories of days past. With a renewed spring in her step, Nabiki continued on her way to the dojo. The closer she got to the dojo, though, the more things seemed different, as if the air were charged like before a thunderstorm. It wasn't just that Hiroshi was back, it was something more. Something had changed and things were coming back to life again. Mrs. Katsuragi, older and more wizened than ever was ladling water of the stones of the footpath, something she had not done for the last few, years, the strains of ukulele music could be heard coming from the school as she passed it and other, more subtle clues that didn't truly register on a conscious level.
Arriving at the dojo, still with the same old sign directing challengers to the back entrance, Nabiki walked on in. She had already phoned ahead to say that she was coming on Friday instead of Saturday, so she knew that Kasumi was expecting her. As she took of her shoes at the front door, she noticed a pair of shoes there that she didn't recognise. There were Kasumi's sensible, heelless shoes, Tofu's equally sensible plain shoes, though he didn't wear them much, her father's larger sandals and Kazuma's smaller ones that he wore when not going to or from school and a pair of well worn hiking shoes that looked like they had some tales to tell, judging by the wear and tear. Nabiki recognised the brand, even under all the dust, and they had only come on the market a few years ago, so they had seen some pretty serious use.
Wondering who on Earth could be visiting, Nabiki walked straight into the living room, finding Kasumi, Tofu and Soun sitting out the table with a figure she didn't immediately recognise. The figure was about the same height as Nabiki, with dark hair that had been bleached by the sun and well tanned. She wore a t-shirt that had once been blue but had bleached out until it was almost white, with slightly tattered edges where the sleeves had been removed, a pair of cut off jeans that rode low on the hips and socks that had once been white, but were now a dirty grey. The woman was well muscled, without looking like a body builder, just enough body fat to soften the lines and give her some nice curves. Her sun-bleached hair had been pulled back in a single, thin ponytail that reached almost to the floor and a bright yellow ribbon kept it out of her eyes. It was the eyes that finally gave it away and Nabiki, in a rare moment of complete shock, stared opened mouth at her younger sister. "Akane! When? How? Where? Why? What?"
Akane laughed and stood, embracing Nabiki. "It's good to see you to neechan. Sorry for startling you, but I wanted it to be a surprise."
Nabiki finally got control of herself, and hugged Akane back fiercely, a little surprised at the strength of Akane's grip. The youngest Tendo daughter had always been strong, but Nabiki could feel not only the strength that Akane was using, but the amount that she was holding back as well, which was even more startling. "It's good to see you imouto-chan," was all Nabiki could say, her voice hoarse with emotion. "When did you get back?"
"I just got back to Japan the other day and it was too late to reach Nerima, so I stayed overnight at a hotel. I got here not half an hour ago, but when Tofu rang to tell you, all he got was your answering machine."
"I decided to leave a little early to beat the heat."
Soun cleared his throat. "Perhaps it might be easier if we all sat down and Akane could tell her story from the beginning," he suggested.
"Just let me get something cool to drink first," Kasumi said, rising. "I'm sure we'd all be more comfortable with something to cool off."
As she left the room Akane looked around. "I know it's a bit on the warm side, but it's not that hot is it?"
Tofu just looked at her. "Akane, it's over thirty degrees outside, and there's not a breath of air. Are you honestly telling me that you're not hot?"
Akane nodded decisively, and then grinned a little sheepishly. "On the road you learn how to ignore the weather. Hot, cold, rain, snow, there doesn't seem to be all that much difference after a while."
Kasumi returned at that point, carrying a tray with five glasses, all filled to the brim with lemonade and so cold that water was condensing on their sides. Kasumi handed the glasses out and Soun gestured that Akane should begin.
Akane sat, thinking for a moment, her eyes taking on a distant look. "It all began after the failed wedding attempt," she said reflectively. "I'm pretty sure you all noticed that things started going downhill after that fairly fast. Ranma and I just wanted to be left alone to sort out what we felt for each other, but no one would leave us alone. I'll admit that there were times that I just wanted to grab Ukyo and beat the living daylights out of her and on occasions it was all I could do not to throttle Shampoo.
"It wasn't just them though. I loved Ranma, and I'm pretty certain that he loved me back, but we couldn't get married, not like we were. Everything was just too uneven. It wasn't just that he was a better martial artist than me; it seemed like everything I tried to do, he was better at and I just couldn't bear the thought of spending the rest of my life in his shadow, or anyone else's. I probably took it out on him more than he deserved and I'm not proud of that, but I won't deny it either. Then, just when I was sure the next fight was going to put someone in the hospital, or maybe even the morgue, Ranma left. Some of what was on the note he left for me was private, and I'm still not going to say anything about it, but part of it was a list of places he had heard about that could help me. So, after a while I decided to look some of them up, making sure I went to the ones out of Japan first. I must have spent what seemed like three years at this little place in the foothills of the Himalayas and then from there, I started wandering all over the place. All across Asia, into Europe, down into Africa. I've been almost everywhere but Antarctica. Eventually I decided that it was time to return home, and here I am."
Nabiki frowned. "Wait a minute Akane. You spent three years somewhere in India, but we've got postcards from that time saying you were in Paris, or another from Indonesia. You can't have spent three years there."
Akane smiled. "I said it seemed like three years, I never said it was three years. I'd like to tell you more, but there are secrets I am bound not to reveal."
Nabiki was about to object, when Soun raised his hand. "If your sister has promised not to tell, then she will not tell. I have heard of places like this, where only those who swear to keep their secrets may learn what they offer."
Tofu agreed. "Some of the places I studied demanded similar things from me, and usually for very good reason. Some of the things I learnt are not for public consumption."
Nabiki frowned but said nothing and everyone lapsed into silence for several moments until Kasumi spoke up. "Still Akane, that seems a very bare bones description. Surely more must have happened than that."
Akane grinned. "True," she admitted. "But even just touching on the high points is a very long story. It's been eight years after all, and some of the stuff wouldn't be believed by anyone who hasn't lived in Nerima. Are you sure you want to hear it?"
"Spill already," Nabiki insisted. "After an introduction like that, I'm really curious. So start talking."
Akane took a long swig of her lemonade and then sat back in a relaxed posture that suggested she wasn't kidding about it being a long story. Her eyes unfocussed somewhat and she began to speak; calling forth memories that had dulled slightly with the years and began to weave a tale that swept everyone away.
Khu Lon, Matriarch of the Joketsu Amazons, though better known locally as Cologne, sighed as she looked out over the empty restaurant. Business was not as brisk as it had once been, and the unseasonable heat had driven most people in search of cooler food for their luncheon break, rather than a big, steaming bowl of ramen. It was times like this that she wondered if she had made a mistake in keeping the Nekohanten open after her great-granddaughter's departure. Business was much slower than it had been for years, and like many others who had lived through the era of the Nerima Wrecking Crew and had stayed on after their diaspora, Cologne found that the life had gone out of the place.
The Nekohanten had originally been little more than a way of providing a base of operations from which Shampoo could conduct her campaign for Ranma's hand in matrimony. Still Cologne found that running the place had given her back some of her youthful energy, as well as a safe vantage point from which to observe the continual parade of characters who passed by the door. Eventually Cologne bowed out of the situation all together and devoted her energies entirely to the restaurant. Even after Ranma's departure, followed by Mousse's and Shampoo's, not to mention several others, she had kept the restaurant open as a way of keeping the tribe in touch with the rest of the world. But gradually business declined and most of her tribal sisters lost interest in the venture, the only two staying being Liu Shun, who had picked up the name Lotion, a chef who found too little scope to exercise her talents in the village, and Jia La, or Gel, Mousse's cousin who wasn't quite as blind as he was, but still useless without her glasses and with almost no interest in becoming a warrior. There were times when Cologne was almost ready to call everything quits and head back to the village, and would have several years ago if it hadn't been for the fact that the village no longer felt like home.
Her morose ponderings were interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps entering the restaurant. The originator of those sounds was a young man, perhaps in his mid-twenties, tall and powerfully built. He wore heavy working boots that rose up to mid calf over thick, canvas trousers of an indeterminate buff colour. His shirt was a faded yellow, tight over his chest and arms, allowing well-defined muscles to show through and over that he wore a grey canvas great coat with a number of large pockets sewn into it. His hair was short, little more than fuzz, like it had been shaved off and was only starting to grow back, which made Cologne wonder why the man wore a bandanna around his forehead. It wasn't until she took note of the black and yellow pattern of the bandanna that she realised who the man was, and a quick glance at red paper umbrella resting atop his pack confirmed it and Cologne felt herself grinning.
"Well, well, well," she said, grabbing her staff and hoping over to the door. "If it isn't Hibiki Ryoga showing up on my doorstep after nearly eight years without so much as a word to anyone. Of course there's always the chance that you couldn't find a telephone booth or post office."
Ryoga grinned, his fangs dimpling his lower lip. "It's good to see you too Old Ghoul," he said. "It's nice to finally see a familiar face. I was beginning to wonder if everyone I knew in Nerima had up and left."
"It seems like it sometimes," Cologne agreed. "Pull up a seat my boy, and have a meal. It's been a long time since someone has come in here with something interesting to tell. What have you been up to all these years?"
Ryoga's smile grew even broader as he dumped his pack and coat on the floor. Judging by the dull thud both made when they landed, Cologne was fairly certain that their sheer weight was security measure enough, especially in Japan, a place with one of the lowest street crime rates in the world. Before the fanged martial artist could speak, Cologne held up one hand. "Liu Shun! One deluxe ramen, hold the pork! Saotome size!"
There was a momentary, startled pause from the kitchen and then, "One Saotome size deluxe ramen, hold the pork, coming up!"
Ryoga chuckled. "Saotome size?"
Cologne grinned back. "It's been eight years since he left, and I still haven't met anyone who can eat as much as that boy. But this isn't about him, this is about you. Eight years is a long time for someone to get lost, even you."
"True," Ryoga agreed, leaning back in his chair, and causing a few, slightly ominous creaks. "But that hasn't been a problem for nearly seven years now. I got both my curses cured. Jusenkyo and my problems with directions."
Cologne had been around long enough to learn how to control her actions, so she merely raised a surprised eyebrow instead of letting her eyes bug out of her head. "No mean trick," she said. "Both at once, or separately?"
"Separately, though it was the same person who cured me in both cases."
"I take it them you found someone with a large degree of proficiency in the magical arts then."
"She preferred the term sorceress, but yes."
"May I ask how she did it?"
Ryoga shrugged. "I don't know all the details, and most of the explanation went over the top of my head. I'm a martial artist, not a magician, but as I understand it, Dame Morrigan didn't actually cure my directional curse. Instead she tied what she called a countering gift onto it, cancelling the effects out. Now I'm no better or worse than an average person."
"So it was indeed a true curse and not just a spectacularly bad sense of direction?"
Ryoga nodded. "One of my ancestors must have annoyed a powerful magic user many generations ago. For reasons that escape me completely the curse dies out in a generation or two when one of us marries into another family, but actually infects those who marry into the family after a few years. Dame Morrigan said that it must have been someone very powerful and skilled for the curse to have lasted so long."
"And your Jusenkyo curse?"
Ryoga beamed at the mention of that. "P-chan is no more. Dame Morrigan refused to tell me how she managed it, but she successfully removed the Jusenkyo curse about six months after she cleared up my sense of direction."
Cologne nodded. The sort of magic required to neutralise a Jusenkyo curse, let alone remove it completely, was best kept secret, even from the one having the curse removed, for if it should fall into the wrong hands, it could create another Jusenkyo, or possibly even worse. Out loud she said, "Of course this all begs the question, who is this Dame Morrigan to whom you keep referring?"
Before Ryoga could answer Gel came out of the kitchen balancing a massive ramen bowl on a tray. She walked carefully over to the table where Ryoga and Cologne were sitting and placed it in front of the ex-Lost Boy. "Please enjoy meal and thank you eating at Nekohanten," she said in broken Japanese worse than Shampoo's had ever been, bowing as she did so. Then, before Ryoga could say anything, she backed away and disappeared into the kitchen.
"Amazon?" Ryoga asked, grabbing a pair of disposable chopsticks from the centre of the table and easily separating them.
Cologne nodded as Ryoga dug into his ramen. "After Shan Pu left, I persuaded some of the other members of the tribe to come work here for a time, to gain experience in the outside world. Most grew rather disenchanted with it after a while and now Jia La and Liu Shan are the only ones left. And in case you thought she looked familiar, Jia La is Muu Tsu's cousin."
Ryoga paused in his eating long enough to nod his understanding and then continued with his meal. The enormous bowl was half empty when he spoke again. "You asked who Dame Morrigan was right?"
Cologne nodded.
"She's a Knight-Errant of the Order of the Bladeless Sword. They're a group of magic users who formed about four centuries ago in Europe. I never did manage to find out what they actually do, but Morrigan hired me as a sort of bodyguard while she searched for some mystic artefact for the Order. I don't know what it does, or why they wanted it, heck I can't even remember what the damned thing's called, but it was pretty good and kept me busy for about a year and a half."
"And the rest of the time?"
"The usual sort of thing for a wandering martial artist," Ryoga replied with a faint grin and a slight shrug. "Training in the mountains, entering the occasional tournament and getting mixed up in things I'd much rather avoid. Apart from the tournaments, it was a lot like things here in Nerima, just the scenery and names changed more often. I even managed to revise the Shi Shi Hokoudan so that it no longer uses depression as a focus."
"Oh?" Cologne said, impressed despite herself. That simple statement carried to very important messages with it. First was the fact that Ryoga was now at the level were he was revising and creating his own special techniques, rather than just learning what had been devised by others, something only Ranma had managed amongst his contemparies before they had scattered to the winds. Second was the fact that not only had Ryoga broken the vicious cycle of depression that fed on itself necessary to make the full use of the Shi Shi Hokoudan, something that often drove the users eventually into madness, suicide or a complete withdrawal from reality, but also that he had found something with which to replace it, putting him on much more stable emotional footing, at least potentially. "So what do you use as your focus now?" she asked curiously.
"Hope," Ryoga replied. "Hope that no matter what happens, tomorrow will be a better day. Hope that if just one person can make a difference, the world will become a better place. Hope that good will eventually triumph over evil. I still call it the Shi Shi Hokoudan though. I suppose I should call it the revised Shi Shi Hokoudan, but I'd feel silly yelling that out in the middle of a battle."
This got a grin from Cologne. And it gave her a sense of satisfaction. Choosing that particular focus had its drawbacks, and hope could be a very fragile thing at times, but there were definitely worse things in the world than unbridled optimism. "So do you think that this new Shi Shi Hokoudan of yours is enough to overcome Ranma's Mokou Takabisha?" she asked. "Just out of curiosity."
"I don't know," Ryoga admitted with a shrug, swallowing a mouthful of ramen. "I've managed to get it pretty strong, but Ranma's ego was a powerful thing, and from what I've heard in my journeys, that is one thing that hasn't changed in the slightest."
"So you kept in touch with Ranma?"
"Not really. It was mostly rumours and second and third hand stories that had altered with the telling."
Cologne digested all this information as Ryoga continued to make inroads of his meal, eating quickly, but quietly. But one thing drew kept drawing her attention, even while she tried to think. Ryoga's hair. When he had left Nerima, he had been possessed of a fairly thick mop of head, and the current state of his hair was too long for him to hake taken up shaving it as some were wont to do, yet the evenness of the cut suggested more than a simple accident. "Tell me Ryoga," she said casually. "What happened to your hair?"
That actually managed to get a blush out of him. "It's kind of embarrassing," he admitted.
"I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to."
Ryoga smiled a little sadly. "I've caused enough trouble with promises like that. It's not that bad anyhow. A few months ago, I had a run in with a vat of some sort of depilatory. It actually causes hair to dissolve, right down to the roots if you let it work long enough. It dissolved my hair and eyebrows, but I was able to wash it off quickly enough that they are starting to grow back, but the rest of me wasn't so lucky." He held up a hand at slightly below chin height. "Bald as an egg from here down."
Cologne covered her mouth with one hand to help suppress the snicker that rose unbidden from her throat. "Oh my," she managed to get out, borrowing a phrase from Kasumi.
"I get that a lot," Ryoga said and then drank the last of his ramen broth. Putting the bowl down he said, "What do I owe you for the meal?"
Cologne waved one hand in dismissal of payment. "On the house, for old time's sake. This place has become so dull that anything new is worth the price of a meal at least."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure, I'm sure. Business may not be great, but its not that bad yet."
"Well thanks. I'd better do find a place to say if I'm going to stick around for a few days."
"Wait a moment," Cologne said. "If you're planning on staying for a while, we have some spare space. When more of our tribal sisters were working here, we hired an extra apartment to give them all room to stay and we still have it. You'll have to share with Liu Shan, but you'll at least have your own room."
Ryoga pondered it for a moment. "All right," he said. "But I insist that you let me pay rent for while I'm staying there. I don't want to be a freeloader."
"I'm sure we can work something out," Cologne assured him. "I'll show you the way." She then turned and raised her voice. "Liu Shan! I'll be gone for a few minutes. Take over out front!"
It was indeed a short walk to the apartment, and it was on the bottom floor so there were no worries about the floor being able to take the combined weight of Ryoga's pack, coat and umbrella. "Are you sure Lotion won't mind?" Ryoga asked, already mangling the Amazon chef's name into a bathroom product.
"Are you kidding? A guinea pig with an iron constitution to test new recepies on, she'll be ecstatic. Now I must be getting back. Liu Shan's Japanese isn't much better than Shan Pu's was and its best if I handle the customers. Liu Shan should be home some time around nine or ten, so make yourself at home until then."
As Cologne left, bouncing away on her staff, Ryoga turned and began retrieving items from his back and the pockets of his coat and placing them around the empty room.
At the same time as Ryoga was settling into to his temporary accommodations and Akane was regaling her family with stories of her exploits a man was going through customs at Narita airport. He was taller than Ryoga, with long, glossy black hair tied into a number of braids that were pinned up, twisted and then pinned up again. He wore loose, white silk robes that reached down to his shins with wide, open sleeves, loose, pale blue drawstring trousers of the same material and shoes made of leather so soft that it almost seemed to be cloth. What most people noticed about him first though was his face, or more specifically, the black leather patch over his left eye.
He walked up the customs counter and waited, as the line seemed to move forward at a crawl. Narita may have been one of the largest airports in Japan, but it never seemed to have enough facilities to handle the massive numbers of people that went through it. Though from the experiences of the one eyed man, it was far from unique in that respect. He finally got to the front of the line and walked to one of the customs desks, handing over his passport.
"Business or personal?" the receptionist asked in a voice that suggested that she had said that phrase far too many times already today and would have to keep saying it far more often that she would like until the day was over.
"Personal," the man replied.
The receptionist marked his passport, than really looked at it for the first time. She noted his name, Muu Tsu, written in both pinyin and Chinese characters, looked at the photo and then looked at the line stating citizenship. "You'll forgive me sir, but I must say that you look neither Irish or Moroccan."
Mousse smiled at that. "It's a long story. I've been travelling for a few years and for a number of reasons the Chinese government revoked my citizenship. I had some friends in both Ireland and Morocco who arranged for me to get dual citizenship in both countries. It may sound a bit far fetched, but the passport is legitimate, I assure you."
The receptionist accepted his word and continued going through the procedures, but it had been enough to lift her out of the monotonous routine of her job for a moment and Mousse was sure that he would be the talk of the lunchroom for the next several days at least, maybe even longer if things hit a particularly dull stretch. He went through the rest of the customs procedure without too much hassle and finally headed for the baggage exchange to collect his minimal luggage. As he was waiting for his travel pack to show up, he thought he caught sight of a familiar face, but couldn't be sure in the crowd.
Flicking his gaze between the baggage carousel and the possibly familiar person, he tried to edge closer. The press of bodies meant that he was largely unsuccessful. He could have done it other ways of course, but that would have just drawn unnecessary attention to him and possibly frighten off the person he was trying to get to. Still Mousse was successful enough that when he was close enough to get a better look as the person bent down to retrieve several pieces of luggage and that was enough. Mousse was certain that he knew them. He was fortunate that his travel back arrived at that moment and he was able to snag it and follow straight away.
He waited till he was close enough so that he didn't have to shout to get their attention. "Konatsu!" he called, raising his voice just enough to be make it clear over the background noise. The person he was following turned towards him and Mousse blushed in embarrassment as he realised that the person in front of him was not the cross-dressing kunoichi. For one thing, this person was most definitely female in a way that not even the most skilled cross-dresser could fake. "My apologies miss," he said, backing off slightly. "I'm afraid I mistook you for someone else."
"No you didn't Mousse-san," Konatsu replied with a demure smile. "It's me."
Mousse frowned and pulled a monocle from inside his sleeve, holding it up to his eye. The surgery meant that he only really needed it for reading, but there were times it was better to be safe than sorry. The face was definitely very similar, but there were subtle differences, especially around the hips and elbows that said that the person in front of him was definitely female. Those were differences in skeletal structure that no surgeon could counterfeit and despite the appearance, the Konatsu that Mousse knew was possessed of a Y chromosome. "Konatsu? Is that really you?"
Konatsu nodded. "It's good to see you as well Mousse-san."
Mousse nodded, still frowning. "I don't mean to pry," he said quietly, trusting in the kunoichi (apparently in fact as well as name now) had sufficiently sharp hearing to make out what he was saying. "But what happened to you? Last I saw you were a guy and now you're definitely a woman, and this was no surgeon's job."
"You're quite right," Konatsu replied. "It's probably easier if we go somewhere private to talk though. I know somewhere we can go without being overhead."
Mousse nodded and Konatsu led the way to one of the airports attached to the airport, and more specifically into a little restaurant that was part of the hotel. The restaurant had clearly been built with people who wanted privacy in mind, and Konatsu led Mousse to secluded booth where it was highly unlikely that anyone would be able to get close enough to them to hear anything without being noticed. A waiter appeared as if out of nowhere and took their orders, green tea for Konatsu and oolong tea for Mousse. When he was gone, Mousse leaned back and spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. "So, what happened?"
Konatsu's reply was just as soft as Mousse's question, but the Master of the Hidden Weapons style had fairly acute hearing himself. "Nyannichuan."
Mousse cocked his head in confusion. "I thought that was one of the springs that was destroyed when Jusenkyo flooded, along with the Nannichuan."
"They were," Konatsu agreed. "But the Musk had considered such a possibility, especially as their culture requires the springs to continue. They have enough Nyannichuan water stockpiled to last them several centuries, though no Nannichuan water. Someone once stall a small keg of it from them. The person who actually did it was eventually caught and cursed and locked and made the bride of one of the Musk warriors, but they were able to pass the keg on to someone else. I found it and returned it to them, after using just enough to curse myself."
"How did you get away without one of them trying to make you his bride?" Mousse asked, rather surprised. The fact that very few women would willingly have anything to do with the Musk meant that when one of them entered Musk territory, they were rarely allowed to leave again. The only reason Herb hadn't become the bride of one of his own warriors when he had been accidentally locked in his cursed form was that, male or female, he was still powerful enough to make anyone who tried it very sorry.
"They assumed that I was still male," Konatsu said simply. "When I first went to them, they didn't believe me when I said that I was actually male, so I had to strip to prove that it was a disguise. Once I became cursed, they didn't have any reason to assume that I wasn't a man in drag."
"Clever," Mousse said. "Though I do have another question. Are you actually locked, or can you still change."
"Oh, I can change," Konatsu said. "I wasn't about to attempt to try and steal the Chiitsuon, not when it was hanging from Herb's belt. I could have done it, but it would have caused more trouble than it was worth. I do use waterproof soap though to help stay like this. The Jusenkyo Salesman is still doing a brisk business in some items, even if the springs themselves are almost all flooded."
The waiter arrived at that point with their tea and they fell silent for a few moments as he placed them on the table and enquired if they would require anything else. They assured him that they would not, and he left as unobtrusively as he arrived.
Konatsu took a sip of her tea and then put it back down. "Now, if you wouldn't mind Mousse-san, I would like to ask you a question. What happened to your eye?"
Mousse sat and thought for a moment, still sipping at his tea. When he put it down there was an odd look in his good eye. He looked around for a second, just to make sure that no one was watching and then lifted one hand to both lift the eye patch and shield his face from everyone but Konatsu's view. He lifted the patch to reveal a perfectly normal looking pair of eyelids behind it. Then he opened them.
The first impression got was of a pearl floating on a pool of mercury, for that was exactly what the glowing white orb surrounded by a field of silver that filled the rest of the eye socket looked like. Then the orb unfurled, like a flower budding at high speed. As it unfurled, each of the glowing 'petals' changed from pure white, slowing gaining colour, like a soft, pearlescent rainbow spiralling inwards. At the very centre, tiny little peaks of light seemed to rise, glittering with the reflected colours of the 'petals' and dancing like figures in a tiny ballet. Konatsu's hands were raised demurely to her mouth to cover the 'o' of surprise and her eyes were wide with astonishment.
"What was that?" she breathed as the petals furled themselves up once more into a white sphere and Mousse closed his eyes, letting the eyepatch settle back into place.
"It's called the Eye of the Infinite," Mousse said, making sure the eyepatch was sitting in place properly before taking another sip of his tea. "The story of exactly how I got it is a very long one, but it is magical in nature. I'm not certain of the full extent of its power, but I do know that it can see through any illusion, no matter what, among other things."
"Was having it replace your original eye painful?" Konatsu asked, prompted by the same sort of morbid fascination that makes people pick as scabs and rubberneck at accidents.
Mousse shook his head, making his braids swing. "It didn't actually replace my eye. What happened was the power of the Eye of the Infinite... infected my eye for lack of a better word, and changed it into what it is now. Apart from a bit of numbness around the eye socket, I didn't feel anything."
After that, both of them continued to drink their tea for several moments, until Konatsu spoke up. "May I ask where you're heading now that you're back in Japan?"
"Actually I'm heading back to Nerima," Mousse said. "From what I hear, Cologne's still running the Nekohanten there. I've had enough wandering around for a while and I though it might be nice to actually stay in the one place for more than a few weeks."
"I understand," Konatsu said. "I'm going back myself. I never actually spent much time there, but even after all these years, it still feels like home.
"Even more so than the village," Mousse agreed. "Who knows. If we get lucky, we might even see some of the rest of the old gang while we're there. I mean, what were the odds of us meeting in a crowded airport like this."
"Mousse-san, if there is one thing I learned while I lived in Nerima, it is this. When it comes to Nerima and those who live it in, the odds have nothing to do with it."
If there was one thing that Shampoo hated about Japan, it was the public transport system, specifically the Tokyo metropolitan subways. Some of the architecture, especially in the big cities, laid far to much emphasis on function opposed to aesthetics in her opinion, but it wasn't anything that she couldn't live with. Part of her also thought that there was far too much fish in the average Japanese diet, but that was counterbalanced by the fact in feline form she was quite content to eat nothing but fish. The sexism she also encountered amongst a large portion of the male population was also extremely annoying, but it usually took only one quick demonstration to change their opinions of her, regardless of what they thought of women in general. But what she couldn't stand was the fact that if one wanted to go anywhere in the Tokyo area that was further away than convenient walking distance, then one was obliged to be squashed into a train carriage that was filled with at least three times the number of people it had designed to carry.
It wasn't only the close crowding that got to Shampoo when riding the subway, though that was a large part of it. The rest of it was the annoying perverts who used the extremely close quarters to cop a feel. Shampoo understood that sometimes it was accidental and in such cramped conditions people's hands sometimes wind up in places other than where they had intended. Those were usually withdrawn with a murmured apology and she let them go. Some of them were far from accidental though, even if the perpetrators tried to pass it off as such. Shampoo could tell the difference though and even is she was denied the full movement of her limbs, that hadn't stopped her from sending the last three miscreants off with broken fingers. Shampoo was quite proud of her figure and was not averse to basking in the admiring stares of those around her, but unsolicited gropes were an entirely different matter.
It was with great relief that Shampoo disembarked when the train at her station, breaking the fingers of a fourth opportunist as she stepped onto the platform. She worked her way over to one side of the crowd and stretched once she had the room to swing her arms, working the kinks out of them. An instant later her danger sense kicked in and she stepped to one side and the man whose fingers she had just broken charged her. He skidded forward a couple of metres before checking his rush and turning around and facing Shampoo again. "You bitch!" he growled. "You broke my fingers."
Shampoo just gave him an arch look and replied, "It wouldn't have happened if you had kept your hands to yourself. Next time you try and grope a woman on the train, remember that not all of us are harmless. Play with fire and you will get burned."
The man flushed with humiliation, especially as the comment had been heard by the people who had stopped to see what was going on. With a snarl or rage he charged Shampoo again, and she sidestepped him again, but this time, instead of just dodging, she hooked one foot around his and kicked upward with enough force that the man actually flipped over before landing on the tiled platform, momentarily stunned.
Before he got a chance to recover, Shampoo took one long step to stand next to his head and put her shoe-clad foot to his throat, applying just enough pressure to let the man know that she could increase it anytime she wanted. "Why don't we just leave it here?" she suggested calmly. "Before you humiliate yourself any more thoroughly than you already have." There was no response, so she increased the pressure of her foot against his throat slightly. "I said, why don't you just leave it here," she repeated, her tone just a touch more menacing.
The man on the floor nodded as best he could with a foot on his throat, which was withdrawn shortly afterwards.
"See, it wasn't that hard," Shampoo told him sweetly as he got to his feet. "Now why don't you go see a doctor about those fingers. I'm sure that they must be hurting." The man turned away sharply and scurried away like a dog that had just been whipped and Shampoo sighed. "Some people just never learn," she said in an exasperated tone of voice, before heading away herself before the fool could call the police down on her. Of course if they tried, she would turn the entire thing into a diplomatic incident quite cheerfully. Which reminded her, she needed to have her passport photo updated, the last one having been taken just before she left Nerima, when she was still possessed of her long violet tresses.
Her hair was still violet, that was natural rather than died as most people seemed to think and was caused by her tribe living near Jusenkyo for so long, but instead of the luxurious wealth of hair she used to possess, now it was clipped short. The style was still feminine, but now it was only about five centimetres from tip to scalp. She had also discarded her silk pantsuits as her day wear of choice, instead choosing a more practical ensemble of jean, a t-shirt that had been tie-dyed purple and comfortable running shoes. It had taken some effort to get used to fighting in the shoes as opposed to the thin-soled slippers she used to wear, but they were more practical for walking long distances over sometimes treacherous terrain.
Once her would be assailant was out of sight and the small crowd that had gathered began to drift away, Shampoo set out for the steps her self, squinting a little as she emerged into bright daylight. She raised her hand to shield her eyes until they adjusted and began looking around, both to get her bearings and to try and spot a good place to get something to eat. She grinned when she saw the perfect spot, a yattai selling okonomiyaki. Normally she preferred ramen but somehow okonomiyaki seemed more appropriate at that moment, and besides, the afternoon was starting to wear on and as her stomach reminded her, it had been quite a while since that skimpy pre-dawn breakfast.
She casually strolled over to the yattai, weaving in and out of the crowds more by instinct that conscious action, until she got a good look at it. It was attended by two people. One was a fairly old man with only a few patches of wispy grey hair left on his head that looked like they were ready to disappear as well and wearing an apron bearing a repeat of the logo that was on the yattai's sign, probably the owner. The other, who was actually working the grill, was a man about Shampoo's age who had apparently missed the fact that heavy metal had been and gone. Despite the warm weather he wore a heavy, metal studded, black leather jacket over a black shirt, thick black jeans held up by a metal studded belt and probably heavy black boots. Shampoo couldn't see the boots, but she accurately deduced their existence since the rest of the outfit literally demanded their presence. And of course it wouldn't have been complete with out the black shades, the skull and cross bone earrings and the fingerless gloves.
It wasn't until Shampoo got closer that she recognised the familiar pattern of the hands working the okonomiyaki on the hot plate. They stood out like a sore thumb from most styles of okonomiyaki making, since at least half the moves were also meant for combat as well as cooking. Looking closer Shampoo also realised that there were few discrepancies in the chef's appearance as well. The chest was just a little too flat for one thing, and the jeans didn't sit quite right, for a guy anyway. With a grin, Shampoo walked over and sat down at one of the yattai's stools. "Deluxe okonomiyaki," she said to the person behind the grill. "Hold the gunpowder."
"It's good to see you too Shampoo," Ukyo replied with a grin as her hands automatically moved to assemble the ingredients. "It's been a while."
"It has indeed," Shampoo said, watching as Ukyo's hands moved with a speed that only a trained martial artist could follow, let alone achieve, shaping the batter on the grill and adding the toppings. "It's nice to see that some things haven't changed. Still trying to pass for a guy I see."
"What do you mean trying?" Ukyo retorted. "I think I pull it off fairly well. However I notice that some things have changed. Your Japanese has improved, a lot."
Shampoo nodded her head in thanks and then didn't say much else for several minutes as she worked her way through the okonomiyaki that Ukyo served up and the chef/ martial artist's attention was taken up by several other customers. Most of them elected to eat on the go though, so by the time Shampoo finished, it was just her, Ukyo and the yattai's owner again.
The yattai owner looked at his watch and then said in a creaky voice. "Looks like it's closin' time."
"So early?" Ukyo asked, surprised.
The owner nodded. "Always close early on a Friday. A man needs some time to call his own. Thank you once again for your help today." He reached into his cash drawer and counted out several notes into Ukyo's hand.
"I can't accept this," she insisted, trying to give it back. "This is your yattai, not mine."
"And without your help today, I probably would have been swamped," the old man replied. "Take it. You deserve it. I've got more than enough money to last me until I die, so don't worry about it. I do this because I want to, not because I have to."
Ukyo bowed so deeply that her ponytail fell forward over her head. "Thank you very much."
"It's no problem," the man insisted. "Now I can tell that you and your friend have a lot of catching up to do, so scoot." He made shooing motions with his hands before turning and securing the rest of the items on the yattai.
Ukyo bent down and retrieved her bandoleer of throwing spatulas and her oversized battler spatula from a drawer under the yattai and slung both over her shoulder, adjusting them until they sat right. The she straightened up and she and Shampoo started walking, saying nothing for several moments. "So, what brings you back to Japan?" Ukyo finally asked.
"Unfinished business," Shampoo replied casually. "I'm sure you know what I mean. It's what drew you back from your attempt to introduce the rest of the world to okonomiyaki, isn't it?"
Ukyo shrugged. "I could say no, but I'd be lying. I don't like having issues left unresolved and I think now's the time to resolve them."
"You're assuming that we get lucky and run into everyone in Nerima," Shampoo pointed out. "I know Kasumi still lives there with her father, as does Great-grandmother, but everyone else left, either before us or not that long afterwards."
"They'll be there," Ukyo assured her. "Call it a gut feeling, or an instinct if you want, but I know they'll be there. And don't tell me you don't have the same feeling either. Somehow, I don't think you'd be back in Japan if you didn't."
There was silence for several long minutes as they continued to walk, but this time it was Shampoo who broke the conversational impasse. "I'm sorry," she said.
Ukyo was so surprised she stopped dead in her track. "What?"
"I'm sorry," Shampoo repeated. "Towards the end I was behaving very badly and I owe both you and Akane apologies for the way I acted. My actions were not those of an honourable warrior and while I can not take back what I did, I can at least attempt to make amends."
Ukyo was silent for several seconds, digesting that, before blowing out a long, gusty breath and resuming her walk. "You're not the only one who should apologise. My behaviour was not too admirable either. So I'll accept your apology if you'll accept mine."
"Fair enough," Shampoo agreed. "Now to change the topic to more immediate concerns, where were you planning on spending the night. I for one would prefer to spend the evening under a roof, preferably somewhere with air conditioning."
Ukyo rubbed her chin thoughtfully for several moments as she walked, holding her head at just the right angle for the sun to reflect of her shades. "The way I see it we have several options. First, we can get on a train to Nerima right now and hope to find someplace to spend the night before it gets too late. Or we can try and find some place closer and head to Nerima in the morning, which is my personal preference. Exactly where to stay depends on how much money you're willing to spend. I've got enough that I can afford to indulge myself for one night, but what about you?"
"Money is not an issue," Shampoo said, "at least not for one night, or even for five nights if it really came to that."
Ukyo grinned. "I know just the place then. Follow me."
Intrigued, Shampoo followed Ukyo closely. She was somewhat surprised when the chef led her away from the high-rise buildings that contained the normal luxury hotels and into the shopping district. They eventually came to a lingerie shop that Ukyo entered without even pausing. Shampoo frowned slightly in puzzlement and then head on in herself. The garments on display ranged from mildly titillating, to risqué and down right scandalous. The store also seemed to contain quite a large number of unusual items and Shampoo paused at a rather skimpy g-string that looked to be made from gold lamé. The shop was also larger than it seemed from the outside, and when Shampoo reached the back, Ukyo was already talking animatedly with the girl behind the counter.
The girl, who appeared to be no more than about sixteen, looked up at Shampoo's approach and asked Ukyo, "Is this her?" is a voice more mature than her appearance suggested.
"Yep."
"The one you called the 'purple haired Amazon cat-bitch from hell' when we first met?"
Ukyo flushed at that. "You had to bring that up, didn't you. I wasn't exactly looking at things clearly at the time."
"Don't worry," Shampoo said. "I called you worse, and be thankful it doesn't translate or your hair would be standing on end. I left that all behind years ago."
"Then allow me to introduce myself. I am Iwata Sayoko, the proprietor of this establishment. If you have any problems, just ask for me and I will do my best to solve it. For payment I accept Japanese yen, Chinese Yuan, American dollars, British pounds, Euro and most other currencies, all major credit cards and precious metals, valued at current market value. Jewellery and other such valuable are only accepted if you also have a certified valuation within the last twelve months. Is there any difficulty with that?"
Shampoo shook her head, a little stunned and wondering exactly where Ukyo had led her, for this was obviously not an average lingerie shop.
"Then please, follow me." Sayoko ushered them behind the counter and back through a screen of beads into what Shampoo assumed was the staff room. It contained several lockers set flush into the wall and their doors wood panelled, a low table surrounded by what had to be the most comfortable looking chairs Shampoo had ever laid eyes on and there was a top of the line coffee maker on the counter next to the sink. Sayoko led them through a door opposite the screen and down a spiral staircase that seemed to go down several stories before stopping and opening out into room with carpets so thick and luxurious, Shampoo sank up to her ankles, and furnished with several chairs and divans that looked even more comfortable than the ones upstairs. In the centre of the room was a circular desk, manned by a woman and an albino man, both around their mid twenties.
"Emi," Sayoko called out, causing the woman to look up. "We have two guests for the night. Please arrange rooms for them." With that the woman, who Shampoo was beginning to suspect was nowhere near as young as she looked, left and Emi came out from behind the desk to greet them. "Welcome to Bright Haven," she said, bowing. "If you will please follow me, I will show you to your rooms."
She led them to one of the doors on the wall opposite the staircase, ushering Ukyo through one, indicating for Shampoo to wait. Shampoo started slightly when she realised the Emi had seven fingers instead of the usual five, but she had seen stranger. It was only a minute or so until Emi returned and ushered Shampoo through another door. It opened onto a short hallway that angled down slightly and terminated in a single door. Emi opened it and Shampoo's jaw almost dropped in surprise. The room was the very definition of luxury, with a canopied bed big enough to sleep a dozen with room to spare at the very centre.
"If you desire anything, please ring the bell," Emi said, gesturing to an old-fashioned hand bell on the table next to the door. "We hope you enjoy your stay at Bright Haven." And with that she left, closing the door behind her.
Shampoo knew then and there, without quite realsing how she knew, that Bright Haven was so far from the ordinary that most people wouldn't believe it existed, even if you showed them. For a brief moment she wondered exactly what Ukyo had gotten her into, and then relaxed. What ever it was, she planned to enjoy it to the full while she could and upon the morrow both she and Ukyo would head to Nerima to finally sort out matters that had been left behind eight years ago.
And so they gathered. They had wandered to the far corners of the globe and undergone trials and tribulations, known joy and sorrow, experienced both thrilling triumph and bitter defeat and all had grown, both as martial artists and as human beings. Now they returned the place where it had all began, where they had first come together, friend and foe, enemy and ally alike. Of course their number would not be complete with out the Wild Horse and Ranma too travelled to Nerima, dark hair glinting in the moonlight and sea spray flecking his cheeks, though not enough to activate the curse, as the boat he was on pulled into Tokyo Bay. He knew that he was running late, though he could not say how he knew, but he knew that the others were ahead of him. But that did not matter, he would be there when the time came. What would happen when they were all together again, he did not know but finding out promised to be interesting.
End Part 1