A/N: And we now have a chapter two. You may have already read it.

Disclaimer: I do not own.. Oh, to hell with it. I said it in the first chapter, it counts for every chapter. I'm not going to waste my time.

Chapter 2: Toy Soldiers My little toy soldiers,
All in a line,
Their sturdy plastic boots,
Marching in the time.
Pull out your little guns,
Stick your nose up high,
Turn your head away,
As friends begin to die.
Compassion is a weakness,
That will only bring you down,
No mercy for my soldiers,
They serve to make me proud.
- By author

The night air was soaked with glittering stars winking merrily at a dark figure rushing through a quick-paced kata. The soft breeze of winter nipped at his bare shoulder as he bent to pick up a few pieces of smashed wooden dummy. He took the opportunity to relax himself and pack up for the day. As he carried his hand towel and boots toward a small water pump, a voice from behind called him to attention.

"Soatome! The general demands your presence in his office!" Ranma turned weary eyes to his fellow soldier and sighed in annoyance. "That old man... what does he want from me now?" Ranma trudged into a spacious office in the middle of a large military camp. He slammed the door behind him and smirked at his father's wince. The older man straightened proudly and cleared his voice for Ranma's attention.

"Listen boy. You've been training in free hand combat for sixteen years now. I expect that you have earned your position as my only heir to the family name... but that's not what you're here for. You see, we are at war with Japan at this very moment. There are rumors that they will be establishing assembly camps to lodge citizens of Japanese ancestry..." Ranma's eyes widened and he shouted "What?!"

"Silence soldier! I didn't give you permission to speak." He bit back a nasty retort in favor of his curiosity. That, and the idea of sleeping outside as a result of his father's temper sounded less than appealing. "As I said, in favor of our country's safety, several powerful figures, including that of the president's, have found it in our country's best interest to remove all threats from important military areas." He continued formally.

Ranma resisted the urge to mutter profanities at his arrogant father. "What the hell are you saying old man?! Your talking about confining your own people!" Genma sniffed the air haughtily. "My own people, Ranma, are the citizens of the United States, and I will do anything in my power to protect them and this country. ANYTHING."

"But Pops, why are you telling me all this? What's any of this got to do with me?" Genma straightened and walked around his desk, promptly smacking his son's head and shouting. "If you would keep your ungrateful mouth CLOSED, I would be more than obliged to tell you. Please, take a seat." Ranma did as told, and leaned forward impatiently to hear about the mess his father had gotten him into.

"With this sudden... occurrence, the higher political and military figures in our government have found it decidedly difficult to identify loyal citizens from disloyal ones. I, being the trusted and useful general I am, have proved my case of loyalty to my country and my people. Now it is time to prove yours." Ranma raised an eyebrow, expecting him to further his explanation.

"And..?" he questioned when Genma didn't continue. The old General cleared his throat.

"And... well, this might be hard for you son, but..." Ranma growled at his stalling.

"I have decided to put you in charge of security for the upcoming Internment camps as head officer." Ranma gaped, "W-what?! Are you insane? No! I can't do that!" Genma silenced him with a glare. "You don't have any say in the matter. Either you prove your worth to this country and your father, or you suffer the consequence in the internment camps." Then his voice softened at Ranma's outright hurt expression. "Ranma, this may be your only chance to prove your loyalty. Please. Do this for me, and I will give you a profitable place in this organization, and your father's heart. Forever." The worn soldier shook his head slowly. "I shouldn't have to betray my heritage just to gain a spot in your heart. I'm your son. I should already have one."

Ranma stood slowly and headed for the door. Just as he reached the door knob, his father called him back.

"Ranma, you are going to take this offer, aren't you?" Genma asked expectantly. The youth turned fiery eyes to his father, and repeated dully, "As you openly stated earlier, I have no say in the matter." he turned around once more, and slammed the door on his father's icy glare.

Ranma woke grudgingly at the sound of the proud horn that blared it's dreadful song through out the military camp. The soldiers stationed around him dragged their massive feet about the ground and glared menacingly toward the lone wall clock stating the current time of around four thirty. It was only months after the Pearl Harbor bombing, but by the lack of sleep these soldiers gained, it was obvious their nights were still haunted with visions of the mass destruction.

It was April in the year of 1942, the weather barley recovering from the cold winter days, and the scarce greenery faring not quite as well. What little plant life that surrounded the barren wasteland they call desert, had been lost in the frosty nights, or otherwise trampled by clumsy boots. It had been just yesterday that the government had issued Executive Order 9066, stating Japanese Americans in the western states could and would be evacuated, or forced to leave their homes.

Public law 503 provided criminal penalties for disobeying Executive Order 9066, which was a red flag that future court cases would open to discussion for these law offenders.
As a result of lack of action on the government's part, the military took control of the situation and created an organization called the Wartime Civilian Control Agency, who Ranma was now decidedly a part of. They established Assembly centers to lodge the Japanese Americans until they could complete the Internment camps.

'Today was the day they began packing up Japanese citizens and shipping them off to those trash yards they are to live in. Most were built on old horse racing tracks, others on fairgrounds or old mills. They hadn't any running water, nor any source of heating. They were brokendown junkyards that were supposedly going to be crammed full of fellow American citizens. Ranma wanted to vomit.

He dragged his worn body out of bed and threw on his normal green rib shirt and khakis that he tucked into the standard black boots. A very non original an semble that all soldiers and training officers were to wear. This was going to be a promisingly bad day. Ranma ushered fellow soldiers out the door to the small and gloomy room, checking to make sure everything was in place before they left. He hated to do the last minute clean up, but it was in his job description to keep the lodgings clean. As he rushed out the door, he skidded to a halt at the end of a dreadfully long line toward their breakfast.

He watched half heartedly as several other lines marched alongside theirs, giving them an unusually organized look. Ranma thought in amusement to himself, 'We're nothing but little toy soldiers doing the governments bidding.' The more he thought about it, the sicker it made him feel. Sure, they were fighting for a greater cause, but Ranma was a strong believer in that the end does not justify the means. True, they had no way of identifying the loyal from the disloyal, but that did not make it any less painful for those being punished for nothing.

He hadn't touched his breakfast, too lost in thought to waste time on food. This concerned his friends and close acquaintances immensely. Ranma NEVER gave up a chance for a good meal. It was just unheard of. They began badgering him about his lack of appetite, what was he so focused on? Was he excited about his new position as head security of the internment camp? What privileges did this job have? Where there any attractive women officers going with him?
Ranma slammed a fist against the creaky wooden table and headed for the nearest door, leaving a very shocked and confused group of soldiers in his wake.

He shoved the door in front of him open, causing it to hit the wall violently, and gain a few fearful stares in his direction. Ignoring them, Ranma pushed his way to the restroom and opened the stingy metal door distractedly. He shuffled over to the steel sinks and twisted the handle sharply. A steady stream of clear water rushed from the abused faucet, aching from all the rough dirty hands that tug on it every so often. Ranma cupped his hands under the water flow and splashed his face repeatedly, preparing himself for the early departure they were to take in less than an hour.

The door behind him opened and a pair of chatting men strolled in, ignoring the troubled boy at the faucet completely. Ranma sighed, grabbing a nearby paper towel roll, and ripped a piece off. The frustrated boy scrubbed viciously at his drooping face. It had been so long since he had gotten a decent night's sleep. What worried him even more was that the nightmare had yet to begin.

He waited nervously, guilt gnawing at his stomach. It was bad enough thousands of innocent lives would be wasted away for who knows how many years, but here Ranma was, healthy and fit, and treated with an air of respect, just the same as any of them, sending them to this hell on Earth. It was enough to make a guy suicidal. They had headed to a run down train station where they would await the arrival of their passengers- escorts and all- and ship them off to the Assembly center in Fresno.

There was a light tap on his shoulder, and he turned to see his trusted friend and fellow soldier Ryoga, smiling ignorantly at him. Indeed, Ryoga was just as much part of the Japanese heritage as Ranma, but he had been raised here as an infant, and couldn't remember his homeland. He was completely blind to Ranma's internal guilt and hesitancy as well, too pumped up about his new position as second in command of security, right after Ranma.

He was a nice guy, but as sickeningly loyal as a lost puppy. One might go so far as to call him a suck up, but never harsh. He was way too ignorant and blissfully unaware of almost every situation to ever hurt anyone no matter their color, race, or sex. His hair was as stunningly black as Ranma's pigtailed hair, only cut shorter with a yellow bandana dotted with black rectangles every so often. Like Ranma, he excelled at hand to hand combat, only where Ranma is quick and effective, Ryoga is slow but strong as a raging bull. They both had the same lean and attractive build, averaged about the same height, and had a knack for causing trouble where trouble was not wanted.

"Ranma, the escorts have arrived with their passengers." Ranma's smile did not reach his eyes. "Thanks Ryoga, can you tell the...um... passengers to stand still and not cause trouble until we're sure we have our allotted number of people? We need at least a few more hours before we can make sure every one is here and comb the areas. Never sure when we have fugitives on our hands." Ryoga nodded assent and jogged over to take the microphone from it's stand in a small control room. Seconds later, Ryoga's deep voice set instructions through the tiny speakers placed on walls.

It had been hours since Ryoga's speech on the microphone. Ranma had sent out several officers to give the residential areas a once-over, and return afterward with reports. There was a loud commotion from a near by group of people. Ranma heard a shrill scream and raced over, attempting to push through the crowds. There were far too many people huddled together to watch some kind of confrontation, so it was a greater ordeal than he had expected.

Akane's gasps came in short puffs of white smoke before her face as she stood her ground over the towering man. He gave her a murderous glare and raised a hand against her. Her breath quickened, but she didn't flinch. Her gaze returned his steadily, daring him to look away. These monsters that call themselves men. They were a disgrace to their country's name. "You filthy little bitch..." the giant grizzly man growled. "I'll have your head for that!" Akane shoved the small child aside and dodged just in time as his enormous bear-claw hand came down on her. Unfortunately, the ground was cold and slick with the water of a previous rainfall, and her tricky footing was lost as she slipped gracelessly and landed hard on her behind. The soldier laughed tauntingly, and towered over her.

"Where can ya go now, eh? No one to cry to, no one to help you. These cowards are all too scared to stand up for a brave little duckling like you." he laughed, gesturing toward the crowd of guilty onlookers. Before Akane could roll away, a booted foot came in contact with her side, and she was sent sprawling again. Akane pushed herself up on her arms through her pain, and began to slowly rise.

The soldier laughed, "Oh, but she doesn't know WHEN to give up! I'll have to train the poor pup before things get outta hand, eh?" He grinned at the crowd. As Akane struggled on her buckling knees, she felt a rough greasy paw on her head. It grasped her long blue black mane and hung her suspended in the air. She struggled helplessly until their was a sharp punch to the back of her head and her vision blackened.

Akane was brought back to a time from the previous year, after her fight with a group of hot stuff teenage boys who picked a fight with her. She had won, of course, but had suffered dire consequences and made it till her neighborhood until she blacked out and could remember nothing. She had awoken to her living room ceiling, plain as day, and heard the soft tuneof her mother's beautiful humming. She smiled through closed eyes, and lifted herself to face a figure sitting across from her.

"Akane dear! You're awake! I was so worried!" Her mother lunged at her and caught her in a tight embrace. "We were so worried when the neighbors brought you here unconscious. They said they had found you on the sidewalk! Whatever happened to you, my dear girl?" Akane sighed and proceeded in retelling the earlier events, her mother's face growing longer and longer with each detail.

"Akane, sweetie, you really shouldn't be causing trouble like that. Especially now, with people so worked up about that nasty bombing." Akane sighed tiredly, "I know, really I do, but... how can you let them treat you that way? Like some kind of traitor, when our only crime is being born into another heritage?" Mrs. Tendo smiled, shaking her head knowingly.

"Akane... you have to understand. The great and powerful country of America is still human, no matter how great a label they posses. It's in our instincts to distrust things unfamiliar to us. They only want to protect their families, just as you do, but they haven't come to the conclusion that not only is everyone created equal, but we are all entitled to our own mistakes. Without them, we can't grow and learn, and trust. Give this place a chance, I know they'll come to their senses eventually." Akane looked thoughtful for a moment, before nodding and giving her mother one of those famous smiles of hers.

Akane groaned at the sudden brightness of the room. She opened her eyes groggily, turning her head to see what the hell it was that was shaking her. She wanted to yell, stop, that hurts! But her voice was lodged in her throat when she looked up into a pair of very concerned beautiful blue eyes.

"Hey, are you alright? Hello? Are you okay?" The person was saying, his eyes never leaving hers. Akane shook her head, then groaned in protest at the pain pounding through her skull. She reached behind her head, clutching the wet spot for a moment. When she brought her hand in front of her eyes, it was stained with silky red liquid. Akane was still regaining her thoughts and didn't quite recognize the stain, looking at it quizzically for a moment or two.

The man with the beautiful eyes gaped at the red splotch. "Some one go get a doctor, now!" Akane groaned in protest and brought her hand up to the speaker's mouth, covering his lips so as to not let him speak. He turned his surprised gaze to her, meeting her pained stare head on. They held their gaze for several moments, before Akane cringed in pain and held her head carefully. A funny-looking man in a white overcoat and coke bottle glasses rushed to her side. She giggled as his mustache tickled her face while he examined her head, and the boy holding her smiled warmly.

Akane tried to push herself up, but as soon as she reached her desired position, the room spun, and pain seared through her skull. Akane cried out desperately and clung to her head, but the wave of dizziness had knocked her unconscious again.

Ranma held his breath in anticipation. Was that girl alright? He sighed angrily at himself. This was no time to grow attached to one of the refugees he was locking up. And who's to say he was growing attached? He had only been with her for a moment or two...

Ranma shoved his way through the frozen onlookers, struggling against their unmoving bodies. "'Scuse me. Watch out. Emergency, what's going on?" And finally losing his patience...

"MOVE!"

A path was cleared as the surprised crowd gave him enough space to squeeze through. Finally through, Ranma inhaled. At last, he could breath again. Directing his gaze upward, Ranma's quick breaths stopped. One of the more cocky soldiers stood above a small child, shivering in fear at the towering man.

"You little brat! I'll get you for that!" A frightened woman shouted from a distance away, "Please Sir! She's only a child! She doesn't understand!" The soldier turned a cold gaze on her and she shut her mouth tightly. He replied "The little whelp bit my hand, she did! These filthy children need to be put in their place!" His hand came down quickly toward the little girl, and just as Ranma was about to leap in to stop it, there was another blur of a form, and some one had grasped the grizzly man's greasy hand in mid-strike.

There was a beautiful young women, raven haired and panting. There was a thin sheet of sweat covering her forehead, and fire glittered in her angry eyes as she used her strength to push the soldier's hand back against his will. His beady eyes showed shock mixed with amusement, as Akane managed to throw his arm back and deliver a sharp kick to his gut. His eyes widened, and he stumbled back a step.

Ranma's surprise was evident amongst his shocked features. Well this was a strange turn of events. A martial artist among the group. And pretty talented as well... for a girl, that is. His thoughts were interrupted at the choking guffaw he suspected was the ugly soldier's laugh. Now what was his name again? Randal. That's it, Officer Randal. Well, Ranma supposed he should put this fine officer in his place.

A fight had begun, after a quick exchange of insults, and Ranma looked up just in time to see the girl slip on a frozen puddle and fall to the ground. Her angry eyes became fearful, she knew she was caught. Ranma began to make his way toward the two, but they were some distance off. He had been on the farthest side.

"Soldier!" He tried yelling a few times, but the man could not hear over his own cocky taunts. He watched as Randal picked up the girl, who cringed but never cried out, and quickened his pace as he watched him hit her mercilessly in the sensitive spot in back of her head. Her eyes rolled back, and she fell limply to the ground. Ranma was running now, as Randall lifted his heavy boot to kick her again in the side. As he brought his foot down, Ranma grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back painfully and hooking his boot over Randall's while growling in his ear, "Get your sorry ass into the infirmary and pray to God this girl's okay." He then gave the man a rough shove, and he stumbled to the ground before running off to the infirmary.

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