Three
Miroku, in spite of all of his questionable habits, was a polite man.
In spite of the fact that he was currently sneaking into the home of a woman to perform a clandestine, decidedly immoral operation, he was a considerate man.
Which is why he decided not to mention anything about his 'training' to Kagome and the others – obviously the poor disillusioned girl had no idea about the extreme vagaries of her time, a prime example of whom was Happosai. Especially the fact that he was looking forward to sharing the said specimen's pride and joy, and that he was itching to compare what he had seen of Happosai's 'Prized Collection' to Kagome's own.
Decidedly he had to spare her of the heartache!
"You seem pretty competent at this," Happosai observed, as Miroku scaled the perimeter of the house carefully, his footsteps barely making any noise in the quiet street.
For once, Miroku took the comment as an affront to his purity of heart (or lack, thereof). "Stealth is essential when you live in an era such as mine, where demons that can tear you apart in a matter of seconds lurk behind every corner." A smile crossed his face briefly. "Though, of course, stealth can be applied in dozens of other ways, as well."
Happosai seemed as though he would burst in glee. "Now that's what I'm talking about!" He tied a scarf around his head, and readied his sack, handing a similar one to Miroku in the process. "Now, we go in, and ste – um, borrow the beautiful little things!"
Miroku cast a dubious glance at his temporary 'Master'. "How is this going to help me against Hibiki?"
"Speed and agility are of the essence while fighting an opponent like Hibiki," Happosai informed him, with a self-righteous drag of a pipe that seemed to have come out of nowhere. "I find that this practice provides the very same in a much better way than just training in some training hall." He grinned. "Remember, the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts has no fixed place to train. The world is our training ground."
Miroku smiled uneasily. "Right."
"All right, then, enough of idle talk. In we go!"
The matter, surprisingly, was over in barely a few minutes. Of course, they were a nerve-wracking few minutes – a few minutes in which Miroku wondered if the underwear was really worth the risk of being found – after which the two proceeded toward the exit in as stealthy a manner as possible, loaded sacks bouncing on their shoulders.
"EEKKKK! It's the weird old pervert again!"
"And there's someone with him, this time!"
"And my underwear's GONE!"
"After them, girls!"
Uh oh. Miroku looked to Happosai, who had a grim look on his face. "It is unfortunate that we were found so soon – we must make a run for it."
And run they did, as the familiar crowd of Violent Weapon-Wielding Girls™ pursued them. Miroku followed Happosai, as the little old man zipped across busy roads and through inconspicuous alleys; over low walls and under gates, until the shouts of the crows petered out to be replaced with blissful silence. Miroku stopped, panting heavily, but Happosai seemed to have other ideas. "We cannot be lulled into a false sense of security!" he cried, before zipping around another corner, and out of sight.
Borrowing a few choice words from Inu Yasha's rather coarse vocabulary, Miroku proceeded to run around the same corner, when…
… he smashed headlong into what seemed to be a warm mass of white and black, while his sack of stolen underwear burst open.
No, it wasn't a panda.
It was an irate Chinese Amazon male, who had just lost his glasses, and was in danger of losing the love of his life as well. It was also a Chinese Amazon who had just mistakenly identified him as the man who had caused the aforementioned danger.
But Miroku didn't know that.
"I'm very sorry," he said, as he got to his feet and extended a hand toward the other fallen man. Mousse batted away his hand, however, and glared at the monk with haunting, but strangely unfocussed green eyes.
Mousse, as has been stressed many times before, was in a mood generally non-conducive to good humour. He didn't appreciate being stopped so rudely when he was on his way to save his precious Shampoo, and even more so when the person who stopped him happened to be the very same person who was claiming for Shampoo's hand in marriage.
He was going to pay!
Leaping to his feet, he kept his eyes fixed on the man in front of him, afraid that he would fade into the blurred surroundings if Mousse took his eyes off him for even a second. He reached into his robes. Yes, it was the darn rebel, all right – he had changed his robes, the wily scoundrel, but the white hair was unmistakable (the 'white hair' being a stray piece of underwear draped on an unsuspecting Miroku's head).
"Die, vile creature!" With that, he let loose half-a-dozen chained scythes in Miroku's direction. The surprised monk jumped out of their way just in time, but not fast enough to prevent one of the blades from grazing his arm. Pain lanced up his limb, and the blood from the cut stained his dark robes an even darker colour. Miroku's normally placid eyes flashed in a way normally reserved for Inu Yasha's frequent use. It had already been a long, exhausting day, and was he to be rewarded for bearing it patiently with a psychotic young man trying to kill him for apparently no reason at all?
His long mental tirade increased his anger to levels beyond those he would usually experience in such situations – as it is with most angry people – and he gripped his staff tightly, holding it in a fighting stance before him. "I don't know why you want to fight me, but I will not yield to your weak attempts at battle!"
Mousse's ears pricked. Stupid fellow – his voice just revealed to me his location. Another barrage of scythes went flying toward the monk, who stepped back and held his staff before him, allowing the chained blades to wrap themselves heavily around the shaft. Then, using their momentum, he lifted the staff and flipped it over, causing Mousse to fly above him, and land face-first in the cemented pavement behind the monk, in a decidedly painful manner.
Freeing the staff of the Amazon's weapons in a single, fluid movement, Miroku turned to face his fallen opponent. That was almost too easy…
Where did he get a staff from? Mousse wondered, bewildered. His plan had been to induce the fellow to charge forward with that sword, and then use his superior agility and strategic skills to defeat him. He certainly hadn't expected the guy to be one step ahead of him, or to respond with such an intelligent move…
Unless… Could he be mistaken?
Mousse got to his feet and dug into the depths of his voluminous robes for the elusive glasses. Miroku watched, baffled, as the young man threw out various objects from within his clothes in his quest – objects that ranged from swords to teddy bears; from swan-shaped potties to sinks; from the morning's groceries to keys of every imaginable shape and size; from Chinese souvenirs to broken radios.
Miroku, of course, couldn't recognise any of this, and wondered at what kind of terrible spell this crazy young man was planning to cast on him. In any case, I'd better be prepared, he thought warily, reaching into his robe, ready to pull out a spiritual ward if needed.
"Finally!" From his robe came a pair of worn, thick glasses, and Mousse put them on carefully. He turned toward Miroku, and…
He blinked.
Then he blinked some more.
Miroku calmly blinked back.
"Y-you're not an Amazon rebel?"
"Amazon?"
"You don't want Shampoo?"
"The strange hair concoction that Kagome uses? Why would I want that?"
"Are you sure you're not an Amazon fighter?"
Miroku felt the annoyance coming back. "Yes, I'm sure. I'm a monk, not an… Amazon fighter, or whatever you called me."
Mousse immediately fell to his knees. "I'm so – so sorry, lord monk!" He looked up with pleading eyes at Miroku – which wasn't much use, hidden as they were behind thick, almost opaque lenses. "Please forgive me – my notoriously bad sight led me to mistake your eminent self for somebody else."
Not used to such unrestricted respect – after not having received it for many weeks, courtesy Inu Yasha – Miroku felt almost immediately mollified. It had been an honest mistake. The cut on his arm would heal pretty soon, and he had received much more serious injuries in the past. "It's quite all right," Miroku said graciously. "The best of us make mistakes, sometimes."
"You really are forgiving," Mousse said, his eyes wide and starry behind his lenses. "But there must be some way I can compensate for my inadvertent mistake?"
Miroku wasn't one for letting golden opportunities go by wasted. "You can, good friend, help me by informing me of the current location of a certain young man named Ryouga Hibiki. I trust you know the fellow?"
"Hibiki?" Mousse scrambled to his feet eagerly. "Of course, of course! In fact, I saw him just a few minutes ago fighting with another."
Miroku frowned. "Tell me, friend, who is this 'other'?"
"I believe he is the Amazon rebel whom I mistook you for."
"And his appearance?"
"Long white hair, bright red robes, and a most impressively gargantuan sword, lord monk."
Oh, so Inu Yasha did get to him before me… well, then. I should be getting along. "I hope you can take me there, my good man?"
"Of course," Mousse replied. "I was just going there myself."
Shampoo was feeling very good with herself and the world, in general.
Taking her hands off the handlebars of the bike she was riding, she reached into the waistband of her pants and pulled out a spectacularly studded ring, admiring it for what might be the tenth time that day. Now that all delivery complete, she thought, closing her eyes in almost delirious happiness (the cycle miraculously kept its course), I can take this to Ranma. Then he forever fall love with me only!
If Happosai, Ranma or Akane had been there to take a good look at the ring, they would've found it frighteningly familiar. They would've been reminded of golden beaches, perverted old men, and pills with miraculous properties when it came to attraction to the opposite sex. In short, they would've been reminded of the Terrible Love Pill Incident, as Ranma had shudderingly dubbed it. They would've also been reminded of the fact that all three pill-ring-stones were lost or destroyed.
That's where Shampoo would've interjected, "But, ah! Shampoo get pill remade!" She probably wouldn't have mentioned the secrecy, the cajoling and money – yes, lots and lots of money – that went into the remaking, but what was important was that the Instantaneous, Day and Lifetime Love Pills were back to add to the confused jumble of events that was Nerima.
As she rode on, admiring the ring, her senses, well-toned by years of practicing martial arts, picked up the lightning-fast approach of what seemed to be a maroon and green midget.
In other words, Happosai was coming her way.
She grabbed hold of the handlebars to swerve herself out of the way – she had much more important things to do than mess around with the annoying old pervert that day – but made a serious and uncharacteristic misjudgement of timing as she did so. She had only time to think, Old man get faster suddenly? before the old man crashed into her, and having got a lightning-swift whiff of her chest, was off in a flash. Shampoo overbalanced and fell from the cycle, while the ring rose into the air.
"Ah, precious ring! I must – ack!"
The ack was caused by her inadvertent swallowing of one of the pills that happened to dislodge from the previously tightly and well-crafted ring, following the warped logic that dominated Nerima.
Aiyah! I swallow pill! After that moment of brilliant revelation, Shampoo got to her feet, and directed a few choice Chinese curses at Happosai, who was, thankfully, out of sight by that time. She inspected the ring, and saw that, much to her relief, the Lifetime pill was still safe and intact. So was the Instantaneous Pill. So she must have swallowed the Day Pill. Well, that wasn't too bad. All she had to do was to avoid looking at any male (other than her darling Ranma) for a day.
A whole day.
Twenty-four hours.
One thousand four hundred and forty minutes.
Suddenly it felt to Shampoo that the world around her was swarming with men who were not Ranma Saotome.
Must be brave – and careful, Shampoo thought determinedly, as she shut her eyes tightly and got on to the bike once again. I go to Furinkan High now – I see Ranma, and problem is solved.
With that encouraging thought in mind, she rode on in the direction of Furinkan High, trusting her instincts to get her there. She hadn't gone a great distance, however, before an ominous rumbling, and creaking, accompanied by what was certainly a martial artist's battle yell, stopped her in her tracks. Opening her eyes out of necessity, she got off her bike and flipped backward, away from the source of the yell. She found out soon that it was very fortunate that she had done so, for a gigantic tree top fell across the road, crushing her poor bike – on which she had been seated barely a second ago – under its weight.
What… who do something like that? The dust cloud from the crash dispersed quickly, revealing…
… the most handsome man she had ever seen in her entire life.
Her eyes quickly traced his muscular form – well, he was wearing a largely concealing and loose red robe, but she knew that he just had to be muscular – his face (surely, such a face must belong to a celestial being – it was too mesmerisingly handsome to belong to a mortal), hauntingly beautiful golden eyes, lovely, long (ecstatically beautiful!) white hair, and what were probably the cutest pair of dog-ears she had ever seen. She was nearly overcome by a desire to reach out and touch them.
The man – certainly an angel descended from the heavens – didn't seem to notice her, as he swirled to face another… man, who was indistinct in the light of the glow the white-haired angel exuded. A distant corner of her mind informed her that that man was Ryouga Hibiki, and wondered – very briefly – what he was doing there.
After that, all her attention was riveted on the angel alone, her vision rose-tinted with the uncontrollable desire she felt rising like magma within her. Again the distant corner threw up a name that vaguely sounded like "Ranma Saotome", and in a much quieter voice, "Mousse", but whoever they were, they were insignificant. This angel was the man of her dreams. The love of her life. Her sun. Her moon. Her stars. Her everything.
And, she thought determinedly, her future husband.
All was still, for the briefest of moments.
Then –
Inu Yasha exploded into a barrage of wild sword swings and even brasher language as he rushed toward his opponent.
Ryouga, happy that for once he was not the denser fighter, easily avoided the swings, searching for a hole in Inu Yasha's defences. It was not difficult to find one – the hanyou's left side was as open as the Pacific Ocean – which led to Ryouga quickly ducking under another wild sweep and swinging his super-heavy umbrella at Inu Yasha's vulnerable side.
Inu Yasha had observed before how manoeuvrable that red umbrella of Ryouga's was, but he was just receiving a 'crash' course on how heavy the damn thing was, as well. How in hell does this guy carry this around? he thought, clutching his aching side as he rolled out of Ryouga's range (temporarily, as he would have all readers know). The umbrella was at least as heavy and powerful as the Tetsusaiga, if not more. Though Inu Yasha had had to give up his theory of Ryouga being a hanyou (no hanyou retained a human smell for more than twelve hours) he had to concede that Ryouga was still one really strong human. Maybe humans had more going for them than Inu Yasha had originally thought. Maybe that's why, by Kagome's time, humans rule the Earth and there are no demons to be found.
Maybe.
Ryouga interrupted this rare moment of revelation as he lunged at Inu Yasha once again, umbrella in hand and in attacking position. Inu Yasha quickly parried the blow with the Tetsusaiga. Sweat beaded on Ryouga's forehead as he tried to force the umbrella past what he was certain was a costume sword. Keeping the pressure intact, Inu Yasha slowly rose to his feet, and tried to push back Ryouga. The fanged martial artist was more than a match for him however, and relentlessly kept his ground. Neither of the thickheaded, pride-obsessed fighters wanted to be the first to pull out of the deadlock, and it seemed that they would be stuck at this impasse for quite some time.
That is, only if one doesn't factor a drugged Shampoo into the scheme of things.
One moment, Inu Yasha was pitting his incredible strength against the equally incredible strength of Ryouga, and the next, a pink and purple blur had suddenly latched onto his torso, crying, "Nihao!"
The surprise forced him to fall backward, and Ryouga sensed a perfect opportunity to finish the duel – if not kill the kid, at least hurt him enough so that he wouldn't be tempted to waste his money in such useless pursuits again. He had no idea why Shampoo was suddenly clutching at the guy, screaming phrase after loving Chinese phrase and declaring that he was her husband (shouldn't she be doing that to Ranma?) but that didn't matter, really. Let Shampoo do whatever she wanted. All he wanted was Ranma's defeat at his hands, his precious shards – his heavenly cure – and Akane. God help whoever came in the way of his pursuit of those three objectives.
He raised his umbrella to finish off a distracted Inu Yasha ("What the hell are you doing, you stupid wench?") but as he brought the weapon down, a disturbingly familiar golden staff came in the way, effectively stopping the umbrella's deadly trajectory. Ryouga looked up, surprised, to gaze into a pair of placid, grim blue eyes. "I'm afraid I can't let you do that to my friend," the intruder said, his voice low and decidedly dangerous. Oh great, Ryouga thought. Now his friend wants to die, too?
To his increasing dismay, he heard further shouts resounding within the clearing. "You rebel fiend! Don't you dare touch my Shampoo!" Mousse came into sight, even the anger that was etched into every line of his visage made to look ridiculous by the huge glasses that covered nearly half his face. The Amazon reached into his robes, ready to pull out his usual barrage of weapons. Ryouga felt a deep foreboding make its chilled way up his spine.
The stage was set.