Miscellaneous Debris

Chapter 3

Recommended listening: "Inertiatic E.S.P" by The Mars Volta, off of their album De-Loused In The Comatorium

Ver. 0.3.2

When it was over, they hauled me away to another holding cell – I was pretty familiar with the routine by then.

But I didn't try to escape that day, or the next, or even the next. I spent that three-day period sitting and staring at the wall, and remembering.

I thought of when I'd first met your father; of how accommodating he'd been when I or my rivals had destroyed his house; of you three; of Ukyo.

I didn't cry. I didn't even eat. I drank the water they gave me, but that was it.

Throughout that period, I made a decision: they'd won. I finally conceded defeat. I couldn't bear to see any more of you hurt. If that meant learning their martial arts, fine. If they wanted me to work around their village, okay. If they wanted to send me on missions or have me kill people or whatever... well, I already had blood on my hands. Anything to protect you, Akane.

(He pauses, then takes a deep breath.)

I got out and Hoa Mới spoke to me.

"Three strikes, Ranma Saotome. You're out. No more warnings, understood?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to obey us?"

"Yes."

"Any more escape attempts?"

"No."

"Good." She smiled a bit. "You need to start your training. Nghe Tốt will get you situated in the barracks, and you will begin. Good luck." And she was off.

They issued me a couple training gis and gave me a bunk in the barracks. Big, long hall filled with bunk beds, situated in the middle of the training grounds – as I said earlier, a separate area.

Very Spartan. A mattress and a footlocker for personal possessions.

And that was my life for about two years. I kept to myself, tried to stay out of trouble. I didn't make friends; I didn't want to. Fuck those guys. Brainwashed murderers, all of 'em.

I came into training head and shoulders above the rest of the students – and all but a few of the instructors – at straight hand-to-hand combat, which became readily apparent during the first few sparring matches. So they moved me to the stealth classes almost exclusively.

Focused mainly on harnessing and focusing chi to prevent detection. I also learned sleight-of-hand, disguise, traditional stuff like that.

And when I wasn't training or sparring with the masters in the dojo, I studied. Current events, languages, manners and etiquette, basic math, everything. They wanted to be sure I could integrate myself into any situation they needed.

Wait.

Um...

Well, when I said that I behaved myself, that's not entirely true. I had a few altercations.

Not with the people in charge, no. Well, okay, once or twice with Nghe Tốt.

I knew where I stood when it came to the instructors. But other students, all of whom were younger than me? Nuh-uh.

A couple of times, students close to graduation would try to boss me around. Fifteen year-old kids trying to tell me to hurry up, or wash their clothes, or do their chores, or whatever. I wouldn't take that crap, no sir.

So I'd knock them around a bit, until an instructor would show up and haul me off to the leader of the Training Council, and I'd get extra work as punishment or something.

Most kids learned their lessons right quickly, but two of them – a boy named Mohammed and a girl named Kim – continued to push and push.

And no, they didn't pal around together. That would have made it easier to avoid them. No, they hated each other.

Those two remained thorns in my side for a long time, in fact.

BUT.

Nghe Tốt was in charge of my training, as you will recall, so I sparred with him frequently. He was pretty good, but I won way more than I lost. I took those opportunities to inflict as much damage as possible while still being able to blame it on training accidents.

Come to think of it, I was in trouble a lot.

Huh.

Anyway, Saya didn't hang around much after the... incident. Guess the higher-ups didn't need a spy glued to me anymore. I saw her around here and there, but she would just nod a greeting as we passed. Didn't bother me much, really. Granted, she had been my only companionship for the first months I was there; but she was also a willing accomplice to murder, in my book. So I just left her alone. She wanted to say hello to me, fine. I wasn't going to stop her.

Two years of training, and I graduated. Well, graduated is a pretty grand term. It makes me think of the big ceremonies you guys probably had. Ours was much simpler. We were lined up in front of the Training Council - there were seventeen of us - and handed medallions. Here, this is mine. (Ranma pulls a small, circular, silvery medallion out of his shirt and shows the table. It's about the size of an American half-dollar and has a labyrinth etched into the surface with what looks to be a small pearl in the center.) Each member of the order has one. I don't know what the labyrinth means; I've heard a dozen stories, and none of them make much sense. But I do know what the thing at the center means. It's actually a pill – called a 'Minotaur,' in fact. How appropriate. (He pops it out and shows it to the table, rolls it in his hand a couple of times, and then places it back in the center of his pendant with a snap.) Poison. See, they wanted to give us an option, if for some reason we got captured or something.

Grim, right? Giving these sixteen year-olds poison pills?

So two years or so passed, and graduation time came.

The other kids were sixteen when they graduated. I was the oldest graduate at nineteen, and Saya was the youngest at thirteen. But neither of us got special recognition or anything. They just gave a speech - Nghe Tốt did - and handed us our medallions.

It was only early afternoon, but we got the rest of the day off because we were supposed to report for our first missions in the morning.

I went to the dojo and trained a bit. Practiced my forms, did some strength training, you know. When I was done I toweled off and started down toward the kitchens for dinner, but Saya stopped me about halfway there.

"Ranma Saotome." She'd grown a bit in the two and a half years since I'd arrived, but she was still very much a little girl. "Will you do me a favor?"

Now, you have to understand: this was the most she had spoken to me... well, almost ever. I stammered, "Uh, well, sure, I guess."

"There is a boy I like, Ranma Saotome, and I need to know what to say to him." She dropped her eyes to the ground and continued, "I want to tell him today, before we get our assignments. Can you tell me what to say?"

"Wow. Uh, first, just call me Ranma. 'Ranma Saotome' sounds odd." I fidgeted nervously. "Also, you really don't want to ask me; I'm not very good with relationships and stuff like that."

Her face fell. "Ah. I see. Sorry to have bothered you." She made a shallow bow and turned to leave.

"Wait!" She turned back silently. "Why would you ask me? Why not one of your friends or something?"

"Because I have no friends, Ranma Sao... Ranma."

As I watched her walk away, I couldn't help but think of how it felt to be the odd man out. I'd been that way all my life, what with Pop moving me around all the time. So I kind of felt for her, you know?

"Saya!" I called, jogging to catch up. "What do you mean you don't have any friends?"

"Just that. None of the other students want to talk to me. They think I'm strange."

Man, I tell you, hearing that jolted my conscience awake. I'd been acting the tough-guy for so long I had started to believe it myself; but I found myself actually wishing I'd been kinder to her in the past. "Ah, shit," I mumbled, running my hands through my hair.

By the by, I've picked up a bad habit of swearing, so I'm sorry about that.

"Okay, listen. I, uh, you know. I'm no good at this, so just..." I started shifting my weight between feet. "Look, Saya, you seem... nice... and all, but maybe if you tried harder?" As soon as I said it I cringed. When Saya didn't hit me, I quickly went on. "No, wait, that's not what I meant. What I MEANT was that I'm sure you're a cool person, but you just kind of sit there. I don't see you making much of an effort to get into a group of friends."

Saya's face compressed itself into a scowl. "So it's my fault that no one likes me?"

"Yes. NO! Well... kind of." I danced back a step as her brow furrowed even more. "Look, I told you I'm bad at these things! Just... I don't know, go up and talk to someone! That guy you like, just go up and say 'Hi' and, you know, go from there. That's what I do when I want to get to know people."

Saya looked at me for a long moment and I started to sweat. "All right, I will try that. Thank you, Ranma..." She stopped herself before starting my last name, but just barely.

She walked off toward the kitchen, and I decided to skip dinner and head straight for the baths. My little run-in with Saya had left me flustered.

I had the bathing spring to myself, so I spent a long time soaking. I thought about how Saya had made me feel... involved in life again. I thought that maybe I'd been wrong about not making friends.

But then some of the other graduates came in for a bath - which was just a closed-in part of a creek, basically, so the water was cold (Ranma gestures to her chest) - and I remembered why I hated those people.

"Hey, look, it's Ranma Saotome!" cried a smaller kid named Dmitri. He was the only European in the graduating class, and he hung around with two home-grown boys named Sức Mạnh and May Mắn. They hadn't been a big pain, except to other kids in training. They'd only had the one run-in with me before, and their injuries that day taught them a lesson.

Something must have changed, though, because they seemed pretty confident. He sneered, "And he's a girl!" The other boys tittered at this, until Dmitri said, "You're pretty hot as a girl, Ranma. Why don't you quit the Order and become a breeder?"

Now the village didn't really allow childbirth outside of a special sect of people called Loyalists. They were called such because they were supposedly loyal enough to the idea of the community that they gave up their roles as members of the Order so that they could provide the rest of the village with new babies. The less respectful people called them "breeders."

There were male Loyalists and female Loyalists, but mostly female. And just to clarify, there were no marriages; Loyalists were glorified prostitutes. If an active member of the Order wanted to have sex, they could either proposition another member of the Order – possibly being rejected – or apply for a visit from a Loyalist.

Yeah, I know, it's kind of sick. But I didn't make the rules.

Anyway, these kids were telling me I should go be a prostitute for the rest of my life.

So I kicked their asses. Handily.

After I was done I toweled off and went up to the kitchen to grab some hot water.

Back in my male form, I was about to head off to bed when Dmitri and his cronies came running up to me, all bloody and bruised, towing Nghe Tốt along. "He's the one! He attacked me without provocation! I'm a member of the Order now, so I demand satisfaction!"

As soon as the blond boy spoke I cursed myself. See, the rules about student interactions were different from the rules about Order member interactions. When we were students I could beat up on him all I wanted, as long as I was willing to do a little manual labor. But now that we were both members of the Order Dmitri could actually put me up for review from the Council. And any reviews the Council performed usually ended with the accused party being either killed or exiled.

For me, exile wasn't an option. So that only left death.

"Look," I started, "these guys attacked me first. I was just defending myself."

"Then why don't you have any injuries, Ranma Saotome?" Nghe Tốt looked at me, expressionless.

"Because they're weak." I smirked when Dmitri's cronies started hurling insults.

"Enough." Nghe Tốt waved the boys off, commanding silence. "Ranma Saotome, Dmitri has accused you of assault; this is a serious matter. Do you wish to say anything before the investigation commences?"

This was very, very bad.

"I wish to challenge Dmitri to a duel for honor."

That was my only option. After a person has been accused of a crime, he or she can challenge the accuser to a duel. If the accuser accepts, the winner is vindicated and the loser is shamed. I was sure I could beat him, so there was no problem. I just hoped he'd accept.

"Only if it is to the death." Dmitri glared at me with hate in his eyes and a smirk on his face, and I swore to myself.

"So it shall be." The council leader addressed us. "The duel shall be tomorrow morning. The winner shall be given one day to recover from the battle before receiving his first assignment. Dmitri, as the person accepting the challenge, you have the honor of choosing the weapons."

"Pistols."

"Bullshit!" I cried. "He's only choosing pistols because I could mop the floor with him at close range!"

"Be that as it may," replied the older man, "it is still a valid choice. Tomorrow morning after breakfast, with pistols." He turned and walked away without another word.

Some background before I get to the duel: I'm an okay marksman, but that's it. Dmitri was the best the order had ever seen.

So.

I was, for the first time in a long time, extremely nervous about a duel.

I have to hand it to Dmitri, though, that was pretty smart, getting me to issue the challenge so he could pick the weapons.

The morning came and Dmitri and I met on a small plateau in between the two complexes. We were the only ones there, except for the adjudicator.

Nghe Tốt issued the rules: any blow not coming from the weapon would result in immediate disqualification – meaning death. Stepping outside of the predetermined duel area would also result in disqualification. Dmitri and I were given our guns: Sig P220 pistols, .45 caliber, with two eight-shot magazines each. (He notices the blank stares.) Sorry. Two handguns with bullets big enough to kill in a single shot.

Then we moved to our ends of the dueling area. For pistols, it was a narrow rectangular area about three meters wide and fifty meters long.

I loaded my magazine, chambered the round, and took a deep breath.

I had to use whatever speed I could muster to close the gap quickly, and just hope that by moving from side to side I could dodge the projectiles.

A whistle came from Nghe Tốt, signaling the start of the duel.

And I was off.

I had barely started moving when Dmitri's first shot came speeding at me: right at my heart, as I expected. Luckily, I was in motion already, so the bullet missed. By the time I had gotten halfway across the field, Dmitri had fired four of his first eight shots.

My heart was pounding in my ears. Just a few more meters before I could be sure of hitting him… I wasn't so afraid of dodging the bullets as I was stepping out of bounds. That meant death just as surely as a piece of hot lead.

At perhaps three meters, Dmitri fired his eighth shot. My momentum was carrying my weight to the right, because I'd just dodged his seventh bullet, and he knew it. It hit me just above my heart, puncturing my lung and barely missing the arch of my aorta. (More blank stares from everyone but Kasumi and Tofu, whose eyes went wide.) Ask the doctor.

But he was out of bullets, and I still had a full clip. As I hit the ground I managed to squeeze off two shots at his legs, but he jumped over me – intending to gain some time and reload while I struggled to turn over, I'm sure. Adrenaline was coursing through my veins, and even though I couldn't breathe, I planted my left hand on the ground and launched myself backwards. As Dmitri landed and went for his clip I turned, already airborne, and mustered all the force I could to pistol-whip him in the back of the head.

It was technically a hit with the weapon, so I was safe.

Well, he crumpled, unconscious, and I landed on top of him.

From the ground I called to the arbitrator, "He is unconscious! I win!"

But Nghe Tốt shook his head. "The duel was to the death."

Struggling to my knees and trying to staunch the blood flowing from my chest, I coughed. Bloody spit splattered onto the ground. "He is at my mercy. I could kill him any time I want. The duel is over!"

"The duel is not over until one of you dies. If you do not kill him now, I fear you will succumb to blood loss before he wakes up."

"And what if I just leave?" I spat.

"Then you have stepped outside of the dueling area, and will be put to death."

I coughed again and pain shot throughout my body. I didn't have much time. Already I was getting woozy.

I cursed whatever gods of fate had brought me here.

On my knees, I looked down at Dmitri. A boy of only sixteen, yet his life was over. Or mine was. I sat there a long time, holding the pistol to his head, trying to convince myself to commit a heinous act of violence. Another series of coughs ravaged my body and darkness crept in from the edges of my vision.

As long as I was able, I knelt, thinking. There was so much going through my mind. I mean, have you ever had to choose between your life and someone else's? It's... it's really hard.

Suddenly a thought occurred to me. Dmitri, though a horrible jackass, didn't deserve death. Maybe I did.

And yes, I realize how pathetic that sounds. But I had already lost everything of value in my life. I had been driven away from my home, my friends, my fiancée... Ukyo and your father had died because of me, too, and I was bleeding a lot. A lot a lot. My judgment may have been impaired.

Not an excuse, just a bit of information.

I spent another agonizingly painful minute coughing, trying to stay conscious long enough to make a decision. The pain was excruciating.

Was I willing to kill again, just to live an unhappy life?

As darkness overtook me, I smiled. "Fine. Then I concede."

I woke up, which in and of itself was unexpected.

I was in the infirmary again, and Nghe Tốt was standing over me, the morning sun shining in through the window behind him. "Good morning, Ranma Saotome, and congratulations on your victory yesterday."

Still groggy and weak, I managed to mumble, "Victory...?"

"Yes, you won. Though you passed out before pulling the trigger, it was irrelevant, because the blow you dealt to the back of Dmitri's head broke his skull. Apparently a piece of bone lodged itself in his brain, and he died almost instantly."

I closed my eyes and tried to disappear. Another life, extinguished because of me.

"There is no more time for sleep, Ranma Saotome. You must report for your first assignment."

"I don't know if you've noticed," I seethed venomously, "but I've been shot in the chest."

"True," the man mused, "but the custom is to allow a single night for rest after a duel." He spread his arms. "It is the next day, so you must report for your assignment."

I grit my teeth. "I. Am. Injured. I can barely move I'm in so much pain right now, and I feel as weak as a baby. If I can walk I will be very surprised."

Nghe Tốt just pursed his lips. "Very well. I will give you your assignment in bed. That way custom is preserved, and you can continue to rest."

"Good. Fine. Whatever." I let my head sink back into the pillow. "What is this assignment you want me to do?"

"You are to travel to Israel and aid in training their Defense Force."

It took me a minute to absorb that last sentence. "Huh? No easy warm-up mission? Just, right off the bat, send me to be an ambassador for your stupid order to one of the most controversial countries in the Middle East - a historically unstable region?"

"Correct." Nghe Tốt removed an envelope from his training gi and laid it on my chest. "Here are your instructions."

He started to walk away. "Well when am I supposed to leave?" I yelled at his back. "I can't effectively train anyone with a bullet wound!"

"It is all in there, Ranma Saotome." Looking back, he winked and smiled a dangerous smile. "And remember: if you try to escape, someone from your past life will suffer the consequences."

If I hadn't been injured, I would have leapt up and killed him right then and there.

Luckily for me I got a week to rest and recover before I had to travel to Da Nang and catch a plane to Israel. Unluckily for me, Saya came to see me that first day, a scowl on her face.

"I would have taken your advice, Ranma Saotome, but you killed Dmitri before I got a chance to speak with him." Her words were quiet but forceful.

Of course it would have been him. "Aw, hell, Saya, he's the one who started this mess. You want me to be sorry for killing him? I am. I didn't want to kill him any more than you did, but he forced the issue; and now I'll be haunted by that fact for the rest of my life." Exhausted, my temper was quite short. "I'm not a monster like you people are. When I hurt someone, I feel bad. And unlike you, when I kill someone, I die a little inside myself. So save your holier-than-thou bullshit and leave me alone. I'd like to mourn in peace."

Saya just fumed for a second before spitting in my face. "Bastard."

I wiped off her hatred as she walked out of the room.

I slept a lot over the next week, and Hoa Mới came to see me on the fifth day. "Ranma Saotome, I have not yet had a chance to congratulate you on completing your training."

"Yeah, sure," I mumbled, stretching my legs. "Listen, do you think you could get me out of this infirmary? I've been in here for days, and I really need to get some exercise."

The woman smiled. "Of course. Come, let us take a walk."

I threw on some pants, ignoring the tug of the bandages, and followed her out to the dojo. There were other students there, sparring and practicing throws. "Ranma Saotome," Hoa Mới started suddenly, "it is very important that you keep yourself safe. The Order has high expectations of you, and it would not do to go and get yourself killed."

Mesmerized by the fluid forms of the students, I replied absently, "So there really wasn't a reason to challenge Dmitri?"

"That's not true. Dmitri would have continued to hound you for the rest of your days, provided Kim kept applying pressure. The showdown was inevitable."

One of the students let out a loud cry, his forearm broken. Other students continued training as an instructor set the bone and taped it up. "Kim was the one who put Dmitri up to that?" It made sense, kind of. Dmitri had always had a thing for Kim.

"Yes. Kim feels threatened by you, Ranma Saotome, as do many of the other members of the Order." The injured student went back to sparring. "It is no surprise that she manipulated Dmitri to try and kill you. Be glad that you only escaped with a minor wound."

"Minor wound?" I snorted. "A couple centimeters lower and I'd be dead."

She waved her hand dismissively. "But it was not a few centimeters lower, was it? So you have nothing to worry about."

"Somehow that doesn't make me feel better."

We stood there silently for a little bit. "Ranma Saotome, you are an excellent martial artist and a good person; Lòng Trung Thành is extremely fortunate to have you in its ranks."

I turned to her, an incredulous expression on my face. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

She laughed outright. "No, not especially. I just wanted to tell you that you are appreciated, even if you do not like it here. We have waited a long time for someone like you, and I fervently hope that you will be up to the task of leading this community in the following years."

"Whoa whoa whoa. Leading? No freaking way." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Listen, as soon as you guys have your backs turned, I fully intend on getting the heck out of here."

"Yes," she replied cryptically, "that is what makes you such a good leader." Hoa Mới noticed my confused expression and continued. "People who desire power become corrupted by it. True leaders do not want to lead; they lead because no one else can. The next few years will be a hard time for us, Ranma Saotome, and I believe that you are one of the few people who can help us survive." A puzzling smirk. "Though you think of us as monsters," I nodded vehemently, "you also see how we are human beings. People like Saya are more common than you want to admit to yourself, and if placed in a situation where you can either abandon us to annihilation or save lives, I am confident that you will make the right choice."

The students stopped sparring and bowed in unison. A clamor of voices sprang up, laughter flitting through the air like aural butterflies. As the voices retreated into the distance and quiet slowly reclaimed the dojo, I stared at Hoa Mới and wondered what she saw in the future.

A young woman appeared and addressed me. "Ranma Saotome, you must be ready to leave the village in two days, right after breakfast."

"I will leave you to rest some more, Ranma Saotome." The leader of the Village Council bowed and walked away, leaving me to return to the infirmary.

Even as I made my way back I couldn't shake the feeling that Hoa Mới had too much faith in me.

The day came that I had to leave. A driver I didn't know retrieved me from the infirmary. I was not allowed to bring anything but the clothes on my back.

We left in a small pickup truck and drove for what seemed like hours on a path through fields and around rock formations. We finally reached a real, paved road and continued for another long while, twisting and turning through the countryside.

As signs of civilization started to appear I became apprehensive. The information the Order had provided me was vague in certain parts. For example: if engaged in conversation on the plane, I was to say "I am an international student," and nothing more; if the passport they gave me did not check out, I was to escape and wait for them to contact me; if the Israeli delegation sent to meet me asked for identification, I was to show them my pendant.

Well what if that stuff didn't work? Was I supposed to name my supposed college, or just stop talking? If the passport didn't check out, how was I supposed to escape, and how would they contact me? If the Israelis asked me specific questions, was I supposed to tell them about the Order, or was that a big secret too?

When we finally pulled into the city it was late afternoon. Sidling up to what looked like a shopping center the driver handed me an envelope and said, "Good luck."

"Wait, what?" I stammered. "This isn't the airport."

"Instructions are in the envelope. Good luck."

I took that as my cue to exit, so I grabbed his parcel and got out. He pulled away and I found that the envelope held some papers, my plane tickets, a passport with a fake name but my picture, and a large wad of cash. There was also a note which read 'Ranma Saotome, this money is yours for the duration of your stay. Spend it as you wish, but you will get no more. I suggest purchasing some extra clothes. The assignment will last until we contact you. Good luck.' It was signed by Hoa Mới.

"Great," I muttered to myself. "This should be fantastic."

The papers held directions to the airport and travel itineraries, so I knew I had some time before my plane was scheduled to leave. I found my way to a couple of stores, bought a small suitcase and some extra clothes, toiletries, stuff like that.

At the airport they sold these little calling cards for international calls. I stared at those for a good ten minutes, trying to decide whether or not to call here.

(A deafening silence falls over the room.)

Obviously, I didn't call. That part of my life was done.

(Ranma clears his throat loudly.) Moving on.

As for the actual flights, they were TERRIBLE. Absolutely dismal.

One: I had never been on a plane before.

Two: there are no direct flights from Da Nang to Israel.

Three: the Order booked my flights without any consideration for either efficiency or personal comfort.

I had to fly from Da Nang to Singapore, and from Singapore to Istanbul, Turkey. From there I caught a flight to Israel. And the layover time! I spent a whole night in the Singapore airport, six hours in the Istanbul airport, and at least three hours just getting through customs in Israel's Ben Gurion International Airport. I was worried at first that my forged passport had been found out, but they're just really nervous people over in the Middle East.

I finally got through and went to pick up my bag. I was supposed to meet my "employers" down there, as well, so I left my medallion out.

The minute I got to the baggage claim, a man in a military uniform approached me and said in English, "Mr. Nguyen?"

That was my fake name – that was the name of every Order operative while on assignment, actually.

"Yes." This was it.

"I am Sá'al Issachar Harpaz. You may call me Lieutenant Colonel Harpaz."

"Sung Nguyen. Nice to meet you." We shook hands.

"I will let you get your things, then we should get going. We have a long drive ahead of us."

I groaned inwardly. Of course we had a long drive. Why should I be done traveling?

On the way to Jerusalem I got an idea of what they wanted me to do. It was just Lieutenant Colonel Harpaz, myself and a driver in the truck, but he spoke in hushed tones nonetheless.

"Mr. Nguyen, I am sure you are familiar with our system of fighting, Krav Maga." I indicated that I was and he continued. "Good. Then you know how effective it is in close combat, but also how it ignores both stealth and qui manipulation."

"Chi," I corrected him.

"Chi, qui, we don't use either. What I want you to do, Mr. Nguyen, is train my Krav Maga instructors in the arts of chi and stealth. But there is a catch."

"Always," I snorted.

The Lieutenant Colonel cast a critical eye at me, but continued, "Yes, there is. You must not let anyone else know what it is that you are doing. We are a Jewish state. Our God does not take kindly to mystical energy. If word were to get out what you were doing, you and I would both be exiled – at best."

"Wait." Scratching my head, I leaned forward. "If your religion does not allow this thing, then how do you know about it? And why do you want me to teach your people?"

He turned in the front seat, hiding his face from me. "God has given up on me, Mr. Nguyen, and I on Him. I simply wish for my forces to be among the best trained in the world, and if that means teaching them how to harness mystical energy, so be it."

We exchanged no more words until we arrived in Jerusalem.

They housed me in a military compound, though not in the barracks. I had a small apartment or something to myself. Extremely fancy, compared to what I was used to.

I got situated and went right to sleep. The next day I began teaching. No time to recover from jet-lag.

I taught five one-hour classes six days a week, with around twenty students in each class – hardened military men and women who had been told to report for "extra training."

The first week I wanted to see what these people could do. You really don't know how to teach someone about chi until you learn how they fight. What I found was interesting, if not necessarily good. Krav Maga, if you are familiar with the discipline, emphasizes real-world combat rather than forms and movements. The whole purpose of the art is to disable or kill your opponent as quickly as possible; no fancy moves necessary. Naturally, the majority of my students relied on strength over speed or agility.

Of course, that first week also gave me some time to think of a way to teach these people about chi without offending their god.

I ended up doing some meditation with them at the start of the second week, telling them (Nabiki clears her throat loudly.) Ah, right. Sorry. You don't care about martial arts as much as I do.

Well.

Suffice it to say that I figured out a way to do it, and they caught on as well as could be expected.

When I wasn't training, Nabiki, I did some meditation on my own. Occasionally I went out into Jerusalem, just to see the city.

It really is a beautiful place.

The Wailing Wall is... awe-inspiring. And I'm not even Jewish. And the Dome of the Rock is breathtaking, too. It's very different from Japanese architecture.

But during my two months in Israel I witnessed the other side of the place, too. I gang beatings, demonstrations, even a suicide bombing.

The first incident happened a couple days or so after I arrived. I had taken my first trip into the city and stopped at a small café to get a bite to eat. As soon as I paid, a group of about seven young men – around twenty years old, I'd say – started hassling this middle-aged gentleman. I looked around to see if there were any police, and when I looked back, they had already started in on the older man.

You don't get involved in someone else's fight, but I couldn't just stand there and let these seven guys beat someone to death. I quickly scanned the streets again, looking for a police officer or something, when the fight broke up. The men scattered like leaves in the wind, leaving behind a broken body.

No one else seemed inclined to help, so I jogged over and tried to see if he was all right. I managed to get there just in time to hear his death rattle; one of the other men had stabbed him in the throat with a knife.

From what I heard, the older man was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

A couple of weeks later there were a series of attacks from the Pro-Palestinian forces in the area. I got woken up in the middle of the night by a giant explosion. As quickly as I could I got dressed and ran outside into the jaws of chaos.

A building just across the street was half-gone; one of the walls had caved in and anyone who could still move was trying to jump out their windows to get away from the flames. People were barking orders at no one in particular, yelling in Hebrew, trying to make sense of what had happened.

The building had been a housing complex, a series of three- and four-person rooms occupied at the moment by temporary residents of the base – namely, my students.

I raced across the street and started searching the wreckage for survivors. The front door was still partially in tact. Belching smoke, but in tact. I took a deep breath, held it, and plunged in.

The smoke was so thick I could barely see, but my ears worked just fine. Off to my left I could hear screams for help – or so I assumed, not knowing any Hebrew. I made my way down the hallway slowly, carefully, stepping over the body of a male student named Binyamin, finally reaching a closed door. I tried the handle. Locked.

"Heads up, I am coming in!" I yelled in English, and I kicked down the door.

Inside were two men. One had been crushed when the ceiling had caved in, but the other was only trapped. "All right, just hold on. I am coming."

"Abell, is he all right?"

I didn't have the heart or the time to tell him. "I can not see."

It took some work to get his legs out from under the wreckage, but I managed eventually. "All right, grab onto my shoulders." His legs were useless, so I had to carry him outside. The acrid smoke sent me into a fit of coughing, but I managed to make it outside with the soldier still in my arms.

A medic took him from me and another started to lead me toward an ambulance, but I waved him off. "No way cough cough there are cough still people in-" I damn near doubled over from coughing so hard; and of course I had just recently been shot in the left lung, so that felt pretty nice.

"No, you have done more than enough. Let us handle the rest." Lieutenant Colonel Harpaz appeared out of nowhere. He spoke to the medic in Hebrew for a moment before turning back to me, a stone-cold anger behind his eyes. "You will go with this man here, Mr. Nguyen, and tomorrow I will find whoever did this."

Even if I hadn't been coughing so hard I though I would die, his tone of voice left no room for argument.

It turned out that the Lieutenant Colonel actually wanted me to come along with him. He had assembled a group of twenty-five or so people, including myself. I was dressed as usual, wearing… well, what I'm wearing now, basically. Harpaz tried to get me to put on a vest and take weapons. When I refused, he said, "Mr. Nguyen, this city is very different from where you grew up. Put on this vest or you will die. Take this gun or one of us will die."

So I shrugged on the heavy vest and took the shotgun he gave me. He was insistent, and I was working for him after all.

We piled into a series of jeeps. "So do you know who it is?" I asked after we had been traveling for a while.

"Of course I do. People who do things like that tend to take credit for their atrocities."

"Wait, you mean they told you it was them?"

"Yes." We took a corner too sharply and I slammed into the door of the vehicle. "They sent us a tape this morning. Slow down," he barked to the driver, "this is a residential area!"

That was just amazing to me. "Why would they do that? Do not they know that you will come after them?"

"They're terrorists, Mr. Nguyen. They don't care if they die. They want us to leave, and the more press they get, the better, as far as they're concerned."

We screeched to a halt. "This is the place?" We had stopped in front of a seemingly deserted apartment complex.

"Yes. The others know the plan, so just follow me. They'll be expecting us, but try to take as many alive as possible."

Lieutenant Colonel Harpaz spoke into the jeep's radio as we jumped out of the vehicle.

Where we had ended up was a small trio of buildings, maybe ten stories high, arranged in a U-shape with a courtyard in the middle. There was debris everywhere, but no people.

Everyone ran to grab cover. An eight-man team moved into the courtyard, toward the center building, when an old woman came out from one side. She started screaming at them in Hebrew, the soldiers raised their weapons and started screaming back, and things escalated quickly.

A young man ran out from the third building, behind the team on point, and sped toward them. One of the other soldiers saw him and got a few shots off, but the boy had gotten close enough.

He screamed something and exploded.

After that the day went steadily downhill.

When the smoke cleared I could see two of the soldiers in the courtyard screaming and trying to crawl for cover; their bodies were charred messes. Two others were crumpled about five meters away. Then the gunfire came from all around us; there were probably five gunmen with automatic weapons, in the higher levels of the buildings. We were a shooting gallery to them.

Harpaz barked orders and everyone sprang into action. Some people ran into the building on the right and the Lieutenant Colonel led me and some others into the second building. I could see that a third group charged into the courtyard.

I checked to see that my shotgun was loaded as we ran up the stairs. This was easily scarier than anything I'd ever done before.

The first landing, Harpaz stopped and waved me up to him. "We send three people in and wait for the all clear. Get it?"

"Yes."

"Good." He raised his hand to signal someone else but had to duck back against the wall to avoid gunfire. "Grenade!" he yelled in English. There were no doors in this stairwell, just a corner around which one of the men lobbed an explosive. We all ducked down and something caught my eye.

A pipe bomb sailed toward us.

Instinctively, I snatched it out of the air and threw it back around the corner. The grenade exploded somewhere, followed by the pipe bomb. I cringed and ducked back down, but thankfully I hadn't gotten hit with any of the shrapnel.

A soldier called to me in Hebrew, a smile on his face.

"No time for conversations! Go!" The Lieutenant Colonel's order was immediately carried out.

A three-man team raced into the corridor. I could hear yelling, then a series of gunshots. Two automatics went off, followed by a chorus of shotgun blasts. Silence draped over the scene for a moment before, "All clear!"

Lieutenant Colonel Harpaz and the other three of us sped off, our guns at the ready.

Children were crying in some of the apartments. Three doors had been kicked in further down the hallway and my employer went into the first one. A grim scene greeted us when we caught up.

Two dead men lay on the ground. "Survivors?"

Hebrew assaulted my ears. It is not a very pretty language.

"Casualties?"

"None."

"Good. We've got more ground to cover." Harpaz rushed back out into the hallway and we followed.

Back into our seven-man team we ascended to the next staircase, but there was no one there.

We made it up to the fourth floor before we encountered any more resistance. Another peppering of gunfire greeted us as we approached the landing. Harpaz threw a grenade, it exploded, and we were off again. This time, though, the terrorists were ready for us.

A sergeant or something was the first into the hallway and he got torn up by a barrage of bullets. Everyone else grabbed what cover they could find in the stairwell as the sergeant hit the ground, dead.

Some Hebrew swearing, before, "Grenades! Suppressing fire!"

An idea struck me. "Wait! Give me time!"

"I am in charge!" hollered Harpaz. "Grenades!"

"Just give me a minute! We can save ammunition!"

More gunfire hit the wall above us. "One minute." He held up a single finger for emphasis.

Remember when Pop and Happosai faced off with their battle auras, and it made the news? Well that's basically what I did. I projected my aura into the hallway, about twice my regular size. It drew some gunfire at first, but as I sent it down the hall it drew even more screams.

"Go."

The squad moved but I had to concentrate, so I stayed behind. They managed to capture three of the terrorists while securing the area; the rest fled upstairs.

When our floor quieted down enough, we could hear gunshots and explosions from the other two buildings. "I hope they're all right," I muttered to myself.

"No time for chit-chat, Nguyen." Harpaz led all but two of us back into the stairwell – the one dead comrade and one soldier to guard the hostages. Nothing was abnormal until we reached the top level of the building; we swept all the rooms on the lower floors but found no signs of enemy combatants. Terrified women and children, yes. But no bad guys.

Then we reached the top.

There were no signs of opposition at first. As far as we could tell, everyone had disappeared. We started down the left side of the hallway, intending to clear rooms one at a time to be sure we didn't miss anyone. When we finished the first room and went across the hallway to the right side, the door exploded outward with gunfire. Miraculously, the man who was in front of the door only got grazed in the thighs and side, but he still went down hard.

As if on cue, three more doors down the hall opened up, releasing four screaming men with guns.

Harpaz and the other able-bodied soldiers sprinted across the hallway and dove back into the first room we'd cleared. I thought I saw Harpaz get shot in the hip, but I wasn't sure.

As for me, I unloaded a shell into the door in front of me and hurled my body through. I'd managed to clip the asshole who'd shot my squad-mate, but only in the shoulder. When I burst through the door I saw him sprawled on the ground, his rifle on the floor in front of me, scrambling to get his feet under him. I kicked him square in the chest then knocked him out with the butt of my shotgun.

Gunfire was still raining down the hallway, so I hurried to the door and grabbed the downed man by his shirt collar, hauling him bodily into the small apartment. He'd been hit again while on the ground, mostly in his Kevlar vest. Only one bullet had managed to find his thigh, which still left him bleeding pretty badly. "All right, think you can to watch this," I motioned to the unconscious man, "until I get rid of others?"

"Of course." I ended up dragging him around the corner and into the living room just in time, as a grenade landed in the entryway and exploded not one second later. My ears were ringing, my nerves tingled with the force of the explosion, and I could see that the man I'd knocked out was now very much dead. I could feel the footsteps approaching through the floorboards, and I managed to train my gun on the wall just before me.

I ended up nailing one of the two guys in the chest, sent him flying into the wall, dead before he'd had time to react. The second man dove to avoid my second shot and sprayed a barrage of bullets as he hit the ground. I got hit twice, in the vest, but managed to keep my balance.

Really mad by this point, I uncoiled my legs as powerfully as I could, launching myself at this bastard. He didn't even get to adjust his aim before I'd tossed his gun aside and crushed his windpipe with my fist.

He coughed blood onto my forearm before he shuddered and died; I barely even noticed.

Of course, now that I have time to think about it, I can't help but remember the fear in his eyes as he clutched his throat.

(A pause.)

Anyway. "You still all right?" I screamed back at the other soldier, or at least I think I did. I couldn't hear anything at that point.

He was watching me, thankfully, and managed to mouth "What?" – I think – which told me all I needed to know.

"WAIT HERE!" I screamed over the ringing in my head. He nodded, and I was off again.

After making sure the hallway was devoid of terrorists I sprinted to the Colonel's room.

The same thing had happened in there, apparently. One of the white-clad assailants was dead on the ground; one of the soldiers was bleeding to death in the corner; and the other four occupants were locked in hand-to-hand combat. "Hands in the air or you die!" I screamed down the barrel of my shotgun.

At first it seemed like no one had heard me, but soon Harpaz and the other soldier had their terrorists on the ground and in handcuffs. I rushed over to the corner to see if I could help the wounded man, but it was too late.

I punched through the wall, incensed. Why did so many people have to die that way? What could possibly be worth this?

A hand on my shoulder whirled me around. The man in charge said something to me that I couldn't make out. "What?" I screamed. My ears were still ringing from the grenade.

He said something else I couldn't understand. "I can not hear you! A grenade, across the hall!" I pointed to the room containing the wounded soldier. "One of our guys is still alive in there!"

The Lieutenant Colonel patted me on the shoulder appreciatively before making his way across the hallway. We found that our man was still alive, though definitely worse for the wear. I helped him down the stairs and we picked up the last member of our squad, along with the prisoners. We forced them out in front and when we got back outside we found the other two squads waiting for us. Of all twenty-five people who stared the mission, only twelve were left alive, none without injuries of some sort.

Colonel Harpaz went over to one of the trucks were a man was on the radio. They exchanged words for a few seconds before a convoy of jeeps and ambulances arrived.

I passed off my cohort to one of the medics and turned to walk back to Lieutenant Colonel Harpaz, but another medic grabbed my arm and said something to me. I had started to get my hearing back a little bit, but it was still relegated to ringing and muffled grunts. "I can't hear!" I shouted. The man just pointed to my leg, which was bleeding. I hadn't even noticed; some of the shrapnel from that grenade had found its way into my leg.

They took me off to the chuck wagon and we wound our way slowly toward the base.

"So did they know about your curse?" asked Shin suddenly.

"Huh? Who? The Israelis?"

"Yeah. Did they know you turn into a girl?" Shin's Pocky was gone and he had moved onto pretzels.

Ranma clasped her hands and rested them on the table. "No, that region of the world doesn't receive very much rainfall, and I had my own bathroom, so it wasn't a big deal. I was able to stay male for most of the time."

Shin swallowed a mouthful before continuing, "But what about the blood?" Nabiki and Akane frowned, but Tofu leaned forward, interested. "You said you got blood on you, right? Well isn't blood mostly water? So didn't you change?"

Tofu chimed in, "Yes, I was curious about that, too. Do you know how much water must be in a liquid before it changes you?"

Frustrated, Ranma sighed heavily. "No, look, I don't know how this curse works any more than I did years ago. I haven't really had the time or energy to sit around and douse myself with liquids of varying temperatures and chemical compositions to see what changes me."

"So you didn't change?"

"No, Shin, I did not change. Can I get back to the story, please?"

"Could you wait a moment, please?" interjected Kasumi. "I have to use the rest room."

As she got up to leave, Shin and Nabiki stood as well. "We'll be right back, too. I need to have a chat with my husband." Nabiki led Shin off, an unreadable expression on her face.

Ranma began to play with her hair again, fashioning it into a braid. "All right, then." Akane smiled at Ranma hesitantly, and Tofu took a sip of water.

"So, Akane, do you have any children?"

Takeshi covered for his blushing wife. "No, Ranma, we have decided to wait for a while yet."

"Why?" Finished with her braid, she pulled it apart and started over.

"We just want to have a little more money saved up before we start a family. Isn't that right, Akane?" She nodded silently.

"Seems sensible. Tofu, how about you and Kasumi? Any children?"

The Doctor's face froze. Akane gasped and Takeshi coughed uncomfortably. "No, Ranma, we do not have any children." Tofu glanced at the doorway to make sure Kasumi was not there. "We're... unable to conceive."

Ranma's hands froze and her gaze softened. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

The comment was waved off. "No, no need to be sorry. It's not a secret or anything. It's just kind of a touchy subject. Please don't mention it to Kasumi."

"Of course."

Shin and Nabiki walked back into the room just as Kasumi returned. "What was that about, Nabiki?" Akane eyed her sister warily. "Plotting to kill Ranma?"

"Yes, actually, but that's not why we left. I just needed to have some words with Shin about his... questions."

"She told me to shut my fat mouth." Nabiki kicked her husband in the knee but he just continued, "And also that I shouldn't be fooled by Ranma's charming exterior, that he's a selfish bastard."

"Why did I even bother to take you into the next room?" fumed the middle Tendo Sister.

Shin smirked.

"Anyway, I'd like to hear more of this story." Kasumi and the rest sat down once more.

"Back to Israel, then."

POSTSCRIPT: Thanks to Weebee and (anonymous) for pointing out inaccuracies.

Any further corrections on military procedures, Israeli military ranks, flight plans and schedules, etc., please post a comment or email me directly.

Thanks for reading.