Disclaimer: I don't own and didn't create Ranma ½ or any of these characters.
Chapter Four: Into the Abyss
Ranma opened his eyes slowly, shielding them against the glare of the blazing campfire. He sat up and looked around. It was still early in the morning, not long after dawn, he guessed. The other bedroll was empty and he couldn't see Tarou anywhere. The Chinese boy had obviously been awake for long enough to have rekindled the fire before he'd left.
Ranma strolled away from the campsite and stretched, enjoying the chill of the morning air against his skin after the warmth of the fire. He had wanted to continue on after Ryouga as early as possible and had initially been annoyed that Pantyhose Tarou had gone missing, but after spending the last five days alone with him, he was relieved to have some time to himself.
Ranma continued walking until he was out of sight of the campsite, picking his way carefully through the long grass so that the early morning dew would not trigger his piglet curse. He might not have liked turning into a girl, but he had been almost as comfortable in that body as he was in his own and at least he could change himself back and defend himself. He had allowed himself to become complacent about his curse, as he had proven when he had forgotten to pack an umbrella for himself. Thankfully, the last couple of days had been clear, but he didn't want to think about what would happen if the rain started again; somehow he doubted that Tarou could be persuaded to give up his cloak.
He arrived at a small clearing. The sunlight streaming through the break in the trees had dried the grass already, so he wouldn't have to worry about his curse while he trained.
He started with a basic kata, progressing to more difficult and intricate ones as he limbered up, thinking all the while about the upcoming fight with Ryouga. He knew he should be concentrating on how to get the lost boy back without hurting him, but he couldn't deny that part of him wanted the fight. Partly because he hadn't had many chances to fight a strong opponent as of late – and there were few things he enjoyed more than a really challenging fight – but most of all, he wanted to prove to himself that he could do it, because Tarou could not.
He had noted the Chinese boy's interest in the Moko Takabisha and Shishi Hokodan the previous day. Somehow he had managed to piece together the underlying principle of the moves quickly enough, although Ranma doubted that he had enough of an understanding to actually duplicate the techniques yet. Not that he couldn't have mastered the moves with that amount of information, Ranma thought to himself with a smirk. He had duplicated the Shishi Hokodan with less, and it wasn't even a technique that was suited to him.
He finished the kata he had been doing, and moved back to the centre of the clearing, idly wishing he had a training dummy that he could practice with. It was time to find out whether there was a perfect form of the Moko Takabisha. He clenched his fists tightly and focused.
"Moko Takabisha!!" he yelled, straining to push his focused ki upwards in the same manner that he had seen Ryouga do many times. A yellow glow emanated upwards and then settled, but it was nothing like the massive pillar of light that Ryouga could generate. He refocused and tried again. The same thing happened.
Repeatedly he refocused his confidence and ki, and every time the result was nothing more than that faint yellow glow. With each failure, the glow became fainter, and eventually he could not even generate that. His hands fell to his sides despondently. That was the problem with a technique that relied on confidence; if it failed, the resultant loss in confidence would make it weaker again. He couldn't tell if the Perfect Moko Takabisha was failing because there was no such move, or because he simply wasn't as confident as Ryouga was depressed. He suspected it was the former. His light confident ki wouldn't gather together and crash back to earth in the same way as Ryouga's heavy depressive ki. The old ghoul could have told him, if only he'd thought to ask her.
Ranma focused his feelings of failure, crossing his wrists tightly across his chest.
"Shishi Hokodan!" he shouted, holding out his arms with the palms cupped outwards. A large red ball of light and ki blasted forward from his hands and flew forwards for several feet before dissipating.
"Yes!" he exclaimed, pumping a fist in the air and grinning. Damn, he needed to stop doing that! That feeling of elation he always had when he successfully completed a Shishi Hokodan would damage his chances of successfully pulling off another one. In any case, perhaps he should practice the standard form first, to see if he had any better luck with it than last time.
He crossed his wrists again and tried to think of the most depressing thoughts he could. Being a pig? No, not good enough. Being beaten… losing his strength… losing Akane to somebody stronger than him… Akane… a doll's eyes closing, never to open again… he had failed her…
"SHISHI HOKODAN!!!"
The reddish sphere was huge compared to his previous efforts with the Shishi Hokodan, but was still far smaller than the majority of Ryouga's. There was no way he was going to get depressed enough to be able to complete a Perfect Shishi Hokodan.
Ranma flopped to the ground dejectedly. His best efforts and he couldn't produce a perfect form of either attack. He could do multiple variations on the Hiryuu Shoten Ha, had come up with combat uses for the Kachuu Tenshin Amaguriken training, could use people's strengths against them and could improvise a suitable attack for about any opening he was given, but he couldn't create a perfect form of a lousy emotion-based ki attack. It was infuriating.
He heard a chuckle from behind him. He turned around to see Tarou, casually leaning up against a tree with a smirk on his face.
"Great," Ranma muttered, climbing to his feet. "How long have you been there?"
"Long enough. They were the famous Shishi Hokodan and Moko Takabisha, were they?" Tarou said dryly.
"You think you can do better?" Ranma scoffed, privately hoping that the other boy couldn't. He couldn't face the thought of being shown up after his failed practice session.
Tarou shrugged indifferently.
"Where did you disappear off to, anyway?"
"Hunting."
Ranma's mouth watered at the prospect of fresh meat instead of just plain rice for breakfast. "Catch anything?"
"A piglet." Tarou chuckled. "A bit larger than your cursed form. It's cooking now." He turned and started to walk away.
Ranma idly watched the retreating boy's back for several moments. "Wanna spar?" he asked.
Tarou turned around, eyeing him doubtfully. "Spar?"
"You know… pretend fighting." Ranma explained slowly. "As in no splashing each other with water, no trying to kill each other."
"I know what it means," Tarou said impatiently. "I was just… surprised. Okay."
As Tarou approached, Ranma could see the dark circles under his eyes. "You look like you had a rough night. Bad dreams again, huh?"
"None of your business," Tarou muttered grimly, lowering into his standard combat stance.
"Fine. Be that way." Ranma grumbled.
Ranma raised his own fists and stood observing his opponent for several moments. He had made the offer to spar on the spur of the moment. His father had appeared to lose interest in their regular sparring sessions after Ranma had proven to be stronger than him, and in any case, Ranma had not been in any hurry to risk being caught in another 'Cradle from Hell'. The only other possible alternative was Akane. No doubt she would have jumped at the chance, but her abilities were so far beneath him to not be worth his while. Tarou, on the other hand, had proven to be very close to him in skill and should be a good challenge, particularly now that he no longer had his far more dangerous cursed form to fall back on if things went nasty.
Ranma rushed forward and aimed a series of jabs at Tarou, testing his reaction. As expected, the Chinese boy wove around them effortlessly, his previously dark expression having given way to one of calm self-confidence. Ranma grinned, and attacked again more seriously with a series of rapid kicks and punches. Tarou dodged most of the blows and caught the rest on his right bracer, moving backwards at an incredible pace. Ranma frowned, puzzled. It was obvious that he was being led somewhere, but why? He risked a quick glance over Tarou's shoulder, to see if he could see anything unusual behind him. The moment his eyes left his opponent's, a fist impacted his shoulder and then his side. He looked back in time to see Tarou dropping, as if to sweep his legs out from under him. Ranma jumped clear of the outstretched foot, tagging the other boy with a kick to the back of his head as he landed. He stepped back a few paces, then attacked again.
Ranma soon found that he was enjoying himself. Tarou was maddeningly difficult to hit, darting around like a dragonfly all the while wearing that irritating, self-satisfied smirk on his face, but once Ranma had begun to concentrate more on his opponent's tactics rather than his technique, he had managed to get a couple of good hits in. He had received a few as well; the one near his left kidney still ached, although he knew that Tarou had not put his full power behind his elbow when he'd done it. Still, it was a lot more satisfying than sparring with his father.
The two martial artists flitted back and forth across the clearing, dodging and exchanging blows, gradually increasing the speed and power of their blows in an attempt to gain the upper hand. Eventually, Tarou dropped to a standstill.
"What? You done already?" Ranma scoffed.
"Breakfast will be ready," Tarou said. "You want to eat, don't you?" He turned and began to walk back towards the campsite. "I hope that wasn't the butt-kicking I was promised," he tossed over his shoulder, smirking.
"Why you little-" Ranma growled, as he hurried to catch up with the other boy. His mouth was already starting to salivate. "I was still holding back, you know," he added smugly.
"So was I. Wasn't that the point?"
Ranma gave a disbelieving snort and, having caught up with the other boy, settled down at a walking pace beside him. Naturally, he'd have beaten the wimp, had he been trying. He might be skilled and fast – and downright sneaky – but nobody beat Ranma Saotome.
---
Ranma stood on the lip the crater, surveying it grimly. The smell of freshly turned soil still hung in the air thirty six hours after the huge ball of ki had punched the hole in the earth. It measured approximately thirty feet across which, while certainly not the biggest he'd seen, still ranked quite high on the Ryouga Depress-O-Meter.
There was no sign of Ryouga himself, but he had left tracks scattered everywhere. Tarou was off poking around in the dirt trying to locate the latest ones, but if the frequent bouts of what sounded like cursing in Chinese were any indication, he wasn't having much luck. The tracks weren't hard to make out, but there were so many of them, criss-crossing, heading in random directions and then circling back onto themselves. Since Ranma's own experience with tracking was practically nonexistent, he'd been happy to leave the task of deciphering them to Tarou. To his surprise, he'd even managed to mostly ignore the way that the Chinese boy had preened, revelling in finding yet another thing that he was better than Ranma at. Ranma didn't care about tracking, and, consequently, didn't care that he might not be the best at it. But, if there had been a sport called Martial Arts Ryouga Tracking, there was no way Tarou would have been better at it than him.
Surrounding the crater, the forest was dark and dense, preventing Ranma from getting a good look at the nearby countryside. He jumped up into a nearby tall tree and clambered up high into its branches. The ridge they were on continued northwards for about half a day's journey, ending in a tall rocky outcrop. To the northwest lay a village, about two hours walk away. He hopped back out of the tree, landing lightly beside Tarou.
"I'm guessin' you didn't find anything," Ranma said.
"Of course I did." Tarou flicked his bangs away from his eyes with a hand, his lips curled into a self-confident little smirk. "He left heading west… eventually. Sometime yesterday."
"There's a village over there," Ranma said, pointing. "We'll be there by lunchtime if we leave now. I wanna check in with Nabiki. You got any problems with that?"
Tarou shrugged. "Someone at the village might have seen something last night anyway. And if they haven't, the tracks will still be here." He hoisted his backpack onto his shoulders. "Do you have any money? Food supplies are running low."
"A little. Should have enough, I guess." Ranma pulled on his backpack. "What would you have done?" he asked. "If I hadn't had any money, I mean."
"What would I have done?" Tarou snorted. "It was your idea to come along, remember? I can take care of myself."
Ranma gave a snort and headed off in the direction of the village, Tarou following close behind him.
---
The village was tiny, consisting of only one convenience store and a handful of houses. Ranma padded his way up the main street, Tarou following, making his way to the noisy throng of people and cars he could see at the far end.
He heard footsteps approaching rapidly and side-stepped smartly, just managing to avoid two children who came barrelling out of a side street. They circled around, giggling and shrieking, the one being chased evidently trying to hide behind Ranma and Tarou. It was then that Ranma noticed what the child doing the chasing had in his hands.
"Hey, watch ou-"
He heard a growl from behind him, and turned around to see a damp, female Pantyhose Tarou, levelling a vicious glare at the child. The little boy hid the water pistol behind his back and grinned.
"Oops," he giggled, bowing. "Sorry, lady."
Both children then set off again at a sprint, one chasing the other. Deprived of his target, Tarou then turned his scowl upon Ranma, who grinned back at him.
"Spring of Drowned Girl, my butt." Ranma laughed. "Spring of Drowned Water Magnet, more like! Things like that used to happen to me all the time."
Tarou continued to glare at him, unimpressed.
"C'mon, then. The sooner we finish this, the sooner you can get some hot water."
"You think I'm going to let anybody see me like this?"
"Nobody's gonna know you here," Ranma said, rolling his eyes. He grinned, adding, "Besides, I told you before… you make a cute girl. Comes in handy sometimes. Now, c'mon!"
Ranma grabbed the growling Tarou by the shoulder and resumed walking towards the cluster of people. Or at least, that's what he had intended to do. The Chinese boy had planted his feet to the ground like a stubborn child.
"You think you can make me?" he smirked.
"Fine. Stay here, then." Ranma released the other boy's shoulder and turned to walk off. "Coward," he muttered, loud enough that Tarou couldn't help but hear.
"What did you say, fem-boy?" The smirk had twisted into a sneer.
"You heard me." As Ranma turned to walk off again, he added over his shoulder, "I just think it's funny that someone who wears pantyhose around their waist is scared to be seen in public as a girl."
If Tarou gave any response, Ranma didn't hear it. He wasn't surprised, though, when he heard the Chinese boy's footsteps start up behind him. He listened for long enough to confirm that Tarou was following him, and then turned his attention back to the crowd in front of him.
As he neared them, he could make out at least one camera crew and some reporters surrounded by onlookers. He managed to make out the word 'monster' from the general hubbub, repeated several times with apprehension. His heart began to pound in his chest with a combination of excitement and dread. Had they seen Ryouga… or was it worse? He grabbed the nearest person by the arm and hauled them aside.
"What's that about a monster? Have you seen him?" he asked urgently.
The man shook his head and pointed over into the crowd. Ranma could make out several people moving towards him. One of them, a young man in his early twenties, stepped forward.
"You were asking about the monster?" the man asked. "This one?" The man held up a glossy colour image. The quality was too poor for it to be a photo, but Ranma guessed it might have come from one of those newfangled digital cameras. It was dark and grainy, but in the middle of the image he could clearly make out a large hunched shape with a bovine head, wings, and tentacles.
"Ryouga," he muttered under his breath. Aloud he added, "You took this? When? Where?"
"Last night. It broke into Yoshi's vegetable garden. Decimated the lot."
"Yoshi?"
"My neighbour. He's away, so I've been keeping an eye on the place. Lucky, huh?"
"Yeah, lucky," Ranma said with total sincerity. "Did you see where he went?"
"Well, he went that way," the man said, pointing, "but there were some weird lights over the other way later on." He turned around and pointed in a different direction; towards the cluster of rocks Ranma had see that morning from the tree.
"Lights?" he asked, trying to keep the excitement from his voice.
"Yeah, lights." the man repeated. He pulled out a second image. It was much darker than the first, nearly black, except for a vertical column of reddish light reaching up into the sky. "And there was another one this morning, just before dawn. Are you monster hunters?"
"Somethin' like that," Ranma grinned. "We've been tracking him for almost a week."
Ranma excused himself and peered around, trying to locate Tarou. He found him a small distance from the crowd, leaning against a wall wearing a carefully cultivated look of disdain on his face.
"We've got 'im!" Ranma exclaimed, pumping a fist in the air. "He was over by those rocks this morning."
"Good. Let's go."
"Wait. Supplies first, remember? I'm gonna go call home. You wanna go shopping now or wait for me?"
"I can manage by myself."
Ranma dug his wallet out of his backpack and handed a wad of cash to Tarou, and then headed off towards the public phone further up the street.
The conversation was short. Nabiki hadn't come up with anything new, but no doubt she would still expect payment. He told her about the Shishi Hokodan, in case there were more reports of lights in the sky. He had then spent the rest of the time talking to Akane; their conversation was stilted and awkward, and he still couldn't admit how much he missed her, but he did feel better for hearing her voice.
Ranma hung the phone up with a click. He didn't need to turn around to know that Tarou had already returned, and was pacing back and forth behind him like a caged tiger.
"You're back," he said. "Cheerful as ever, I see."
Tarou handed over the change stiffly, and then began to stuff the groceries into his backpack, muttering something unpleasant sounding under his breath.
"What happened?"
Tarou clenched his fists, his face flushed with anger. "The shopkeeper… that pervert! He kept staring at me… at my chest."
"Used to happen to me all the time!" Ranma burst out laughing. "You should've batted your eyelashes or somethin'. He might've have given you a discount!"
Tarou growled and whacked the other boy over the head.
"Hey, it worked for me!" Ranma said, grinning. "My body must've been sexier."
"I can see why you'd want your curse back," the Chinese boy sneered.
"It's not like I enjoyed havin' guys stare at me and grab at me and askin' me out on dates and stuff! But if some guys are stupid enough then why shouldn't I take advantage of 'em? It's no different from you using the strength from your cursed body or your wings to fly."
Tarou shot him a look of disgust. "It isn't?"
"No, it isn't!" Ranma said emphatically, although he was no longer sure of who he was trying to convince.
Tarou looked pointedly over Ranma's shoulder, indicating he'd seen someone. Ranma turned to see three people approaching rapidly – a pretty young woman in a business suit, a cameraman and another man holding a large microphone on a boom. The rest of the crowd was following closely behind.
"Good afternoon. I'm Kyoko Suzuki. I'm a reporter for the Channel 12 News. Are you the two martial artists that were asking about the monster over in Kiruma two days ago?"
"I dunno the name of the place but I guess that's us," Ranma replied warily.
"Do you mind if I ask you some questions?"
"Sure," he shrugged. He stepped back so he was next to Tarou. The other boy appeared calm and unruffled, if you didn't notice the way his eyes kept flicking back to the camera and microphone, that is.
"What are your names?"
"Ranma Saotome of the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts," Ranma announced proudly. He didn't need to look at Tarou to know that any pretence of calm had gone; he could feel the tension radiating from him.
"And you, miss?" Kyoko asked.
"None of your damn business," came the muttered reply.
"Oh!" Kyoko exclaimed, shocked.
A broad grin spread across Ranma's face. He knew he shouldn't do what he was about to do, but he couldn't help it; that huge sore spot in the other boy's psyche was just so tempting. "Oh, she's just shy. Her name is Pan-"
An arm blurred up and locked itself around his throat, cutting off his air supply. Ranma's first impulse was to fight back – he could break out of the choke hold easily enough – but did he really want to be caught on camera beating up what appeared to be a pretty girl? There'd be the hassle of trying to explain that Tarou wasn't really a girl, and then he'd have the whole Jusenkyou thing to explain, and… no, thanks. And he was at least partly to blame for his current predicament. He swivelled around and locked eyes with Tarou, smiling, trying to indicate that it was all a joke. Tarou's piercing glare made it obvious that Ranma wasn't about to get out of this that easily, so he tried again.
"-ko," Ranma managed to spit out. The arm around his neck loosened slightly. "My cousin Panko," he elaborated, remembering how Akane had introduced him when his mother had first come to visit. The arm shifted away from him completely. "Distant cousin. Barely related, in fact," he added, something like a smile beginning to return to his face. He glanced at the camera. "Is that thing on?"
"Yes. We can start again if you like?"
"Prob'ly a good idea."
Kyoko turned to the camera and addressed it. "And now we will meet the two brave martial artists who have elected to defeat this monster, Ranma Saotome of the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts, and his cousin Panko." She turned back to Ranma. "So, Ranma, what made you decide to go after this terrible beast?"
"Um… because fighting monsters is a sacred part of a martial artists duty," Ranma exclaimed proudly.
"That sounds very dangerous," Kyoko purred.
"Yes, very dangerous. Of course, it's nothin' we can't handle though." he grinned.
"They say that the beast's name is Ryouga. Is that true?"
Ranma's face fell.
"You talk too much, fem-boy," Tarou muttered quietly. "Stop posing so we can get out of here."
"Actually, we need to get going," Ranma said to Kyoko. "Can't let the monster get away, can we?"
"And do you have anything you want to add, Panko?" Kyoko asked, turning to Tarou.
Tarou glowered at her and then the camera, and then turned on his heel and marched off, Ranma following close behind.
When they were a safe distance from the crowd, the Chinese boy spun around to face him. "Why?" he snarled. "Why did you do it?"
"Do what?" the pigtailed boy asked innocently.
"Told them my name!"
Ranma chuckled and clapped the other boy on the back with the palm of his hand. "I never said nothin' and you know it!"
Tarou gave a disbelieving snort and resumed walking. "You were going to tell them," he said bitterly.
Ranma felt a momentary twinge of guilt but ignored it. He hadn't really done anything wrong. He'd changed his mind in time, and that's what counted. "I didn't know you were camera shy, Panko," he said, smirking.
"What shy?"
"Camera… you know, that big thing on that guy's shoulder?" Ranma explained.
"Oh." A faint flush began to appear across the Chinese boy's cheeks.
"You don't know what a camera is?" Ranma asked incredulously.
"I know what they are," Tarou snapped. "I've never seen one like that… only little ones. The Chinese wilderness isn't exactly littered with them."
Ranma hoisted his backpack onto his shoulders and watched as Tarou did the same. "C'mon, let's get out of here."
---
The two boys started off at a run as soon as they'd left the village, and, except for a brief kettle stop for Tarou (and Ranma's sanity, since the other boy obviously wasn't going to quit complaining until he had been changed back), didn't slow down until they had reached the rocky outcrop. Up close, it appeared much larger than expected, approximately three hundred feet high and five hundred across its base. They searched around for a while, Ranma periodically calling out Ryouga's name, but finding no sign of him other than the occasional hoof print.
By late afternoon, rain clouds had gathered thickly in the sky and the temperature had begun to drop. The two boys stopped their search and pitched the tent, barely finishing before the rain started to fall.
Ranma sat on his bedroll, fidgeting as he listened to the steady rhythm of the rain beating down on the tent. It was frustrating; there was at least one more hour of daylight left, but he couldn't go outside in the rain. He turned to Tarou, who was sitting cross legged in the far corner of the tent with his eyes closed. He'd been like that ever since the rain had started. In fact, he'd been unsociable the entire afternoon, ever since they'd visited the village. He couldn't still be moping about that name thing, could he?
"Why aren't you out there?" Ranma asked. "I thought you wanted to get your curse back?"
"I do." Tarou opened his eyes, and gazed at Ranma coolly. "Listen. That body has very good hearing, and you've been out there shouting. If he was nearby, he'd have heard you." He gave a derisive snort. "Assuming he's still alive, that is."
"What? He was okay this morning."
"He's eaten twice that we know of, and not much either time. You have no idea how much a creature that size needs to eat to stay alive, do you? If that's all he's had, I'm guessing we have another day or two before it's too late. The good thing is, the less he eats the more he weakens, and that increases our chances of catching him."
"What?!" Ranma exclaimed indignantly. "That's pretty heartless, even for you."
"I'm just being realistic."
Realistic? No, he had to just saying that to make Ranma feel bad. He'd be worried, otherwise. Worried he wouldn't get his curse back. "And what'll you do? If he does die? You don't want to be stuck with that girl curse forever, do you?"
"Of course not. If that happens, then I'll head back to China, to Jusenkyou, get myself re-cursed." He smiled. "You never know, I might decide on the Spring of Drowned Ashura this time around. Or maybe find something stronger." Tarou paused, the hint of a sneer crossing his features. "Why? Are you worried about him?"
"Of course I am! He's… my friend, and I'm not just gonna let him die! Not like that!"
"How touching."
Ranma sat and observed the other boy for a moment. The Chinese boy's face was twisted into that irritating, triumphant little smirk which was obviously meant to convey just how superior he was. Ranma felt a powerful, spiteful urge to wipe it away. "Don't you care about anyone except yourself?" he asked quietly.
Tarou's expression grew dark, and his fists clenched tightly, knuckles whitening.
"That's it, isn't it?" Ranma continued, his voice hardening. "You don't care who gets hurt, as long as you get what you want."
"Why should I care?" Tarou snarled, muscles now rigid with tension. "It's not like any-" he began roughly, before cutting himself off abruptly. "Just shut up, fem-boy! You don't know anything about me!"
"Stop calling me names, damnit! I've been tryin' to be nice to you!"
"When?! You mean when you were going to tell all those people my name? And those times you keep calling me…?" Tarou trailed off, for a moment looking uncharacteristically lost.
"Don't call you what?" Ranma smiled, feigning innocence. "Pantyhose Tarou?"
"Don't call me that!"
"Don't call you what, Pantyhose Tarou?"
"Don't call me by my name!!" Tarou snarled, his face reddening with rage.
"And what name would that be?" Ranma resisted the urge to laugh out loud. This was so much fun!
The Chinese boy rushed forward and seized Ranma by the collar, hauling him so close that their noses were almost touching.
"Don't call me…" Tarou growled forcefully, each word clear and precise.
"Go on, say it," Ranma taunted. "Say it. It's your name. I don't think I've ever heard you say it." He grinned nastily. "My name's Ranma Saotome. Why don't you tell me what yours is?"
The grin faded as he saw the stricken look flash briefly across the other boy's face. It then switched back to rage, and he released Ranma's shirt and jumped to his feet. Ranma sprang up and landed in a defensive stance, expecting a fight, but the other boy merely shoved past him roughly and ran out of the tent into the rain.
---
No! There was no chance in hell he was going to let fem-boy see him cry! No way he was going to cry! No way he was going to let himself turn into that frightened, pathetic little boy he used to be. Why was he feeling like this? He didn't feel strong anymore. He had become weak in mind as well as body. And those words the ex-crossdressing freak had said had actually hurt instead of just enraging him, just like they used to, many years ago; when he was a sad, lost, lonely, weak little child.
He curled himself up against the rocks, his knees huddled against his chest, and angrily swiped at the single tear that had dared to run down his cheek.
It was the Name. That's what it all came back to. People laughed at him for the Name, hated him for the Name. Even on the rare occasions they pretended to be nice to him, the Name would come up eventually, and they would taunt him with it. It was like a hidden dagger; even when it was out of sight he knew it was still there, and it would only be a matter of time before they stabbed him with it. And so he'd had to hide the Name, hide himself, toughen himself up so the dagger wouldn't sting so much when it cut him.
Over the last several days, he'd become careless and allowed that shield to drop. He was losing his self control. He had lost his powerful cursed body, a body he'd had his whole life. He had become raw, exposed and vulnerable.
What did he care what fem-boy thought of him anyway? He didn't even like the jerk! They'd been thrown together, most unwillingly. What did it matter that it was the longest he'd ever spent alone with someone – someone who knew his name, knew who he was – since he'd left his village? What did it matter that, on the rare occasions that fem-boy actually kept that mouth of his shut, he'd found himself almost enjoying the fact that he wasn't alone?
What did any of it matter?
Drip.
He closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the rock behind him, trying to clear his thoughts. He couldn't keep letting his emotions run away like this; he had to regain some semblance of control before he made a complete fool of himself. He took a deep breath and then let it flow out of him. And then another, and another.
Drop.
He became aware of the raindrops trickling down his face, cold water running down his arms. It felt strangely pleasant, that cool drip and tickle as the water ran over human skin; the thick, shaggy fur of his other body had kept out all but the heaviest rain. He held out his hand, palm upwards, to catch the water, the same way he had used to do as a child. It had been almost like a game to see how many drops he could catch without triggering his curse, the only thing he could do when he was stuck inside on those long rainy days.
Drip.
"Get away from there! Are you trying to change inside and wreck this house the way you did Meiying's?"
"No."
He snatched his hand back from the doorway and wiped it dry on his pants, and then looked up at the woman standing over him. She wasn't his mother – she had died two years earlier – but he was living with her family for the time being. This was the seventh family he had lived with since his mother's accident. For some reason, no one seemed to like having him around for very long.
He turned back around and peered through the doorway into the rain. He hated the rain. It kept him stuck indoors and it kept him from doing his chores in the pig-pen and the fields. He didn't like doing them, but people left him alone if he kept busy and, if he did a good enough job, then maybe – just maybe – someone would like him enough to take care of him and not send him away again.
He could see his Sifu training out in the rain and wished he could go to him. Sifu was nice to him. He had wanted to be allowed to live with Sifu, but he had said he was too old to look after young children. He still visited every day he could for training, though. He was already much faster and stronger than the other children and he loved martial arts; it seemed to be the one thing he was good at. Someday he was going to be powerful, stronger than anyone in the village, stronger even than Sifu. Perhaps one day, he could even be stronger than those beautiful warrior women he had seen training in the fields nearby, their weapons arcing through the air like lightning bolts, their breastplates and colourful silks gleaming in the sunlight.
There was a childish shriek as two young boys ran past the door, one pursuing the other. The pursuer caught up with the other and wrestled him to the ground, where they both rolled around in the mud, giggling. Tarou shrank back away from the doorway, out of sight. It didn't matter that they were younger than him; they still knew his name and knew how to torment him. While in the village, he couldn't even use his monster body to frighten them into leaving him alone; he would have to accept their taunts in silence, feeling every word tear at him inside until there was nothing left. He hated them. Hated them for what they could do to him, and hated that he could not do anything to prevent them.
"Pantyhose Tarou," the woman called.
Peals of laughter rang out from the two young boys outside.
Tarou turned to her stiffly, struggling to keep the rage from showing on his face. She looked down at him disapprovingly – how could she not, when he was cursed with a name like his? How could she show him anything other than pity and revulsion?
"Come and help me make lunch."
Silently, he made his way over to the table, where she handed him a knife and some vegetables. He sat down and began to slice the green onions.
"Such a sullen little boy," he heard her mutter.
He didn't answer. What was he supposed to say? How could he make her feel any differently about him? He continued chopping in silence.
---
Ranma sat by the tent's entrance, arms wrapped around his knees, and stared blankly out at the rain. The stupid, oversensitive fool, running off again, just like he had the day before.
No, not like the day before. Then, he had been angry, but now…
He couldn't even say that it had been an accident this time. He'd deliberately lashed out at the other boy's weak spot, and he couldn't deny that he'd felt a certain amount of grim pleasure in doing it. Just like he had earlier at the village, when he was going to tell Kyoko and the villagers Tarou's name. He'd only stopped because hedidn't want to look like a bully beating up a girl, not out of pity. He'd never stopped to think that perhaps the Chinese boy's name wasn't just the annoyance that he'd assumed it was, when all along, the poor jerk couldn't even bring himself to say it.
That stupid, overemotional idiot…
The sun was setting; it had to have been at least half an hour since he'd left. Ranma had expected him to return within a few minutes, like he had before. Maybe he wasn't coming back. Maybe he'd left for good, and was heading back to China like he had wanted to. Back to Jusenkyou. No, he hadn't even taken his cloak – he wouldn't leave without that, surely.
Perhaps he should go out and look for Tarou. Maybe… maybe even try to apologise, or something. Maybe then, if the other boy did decide to go back to Jusenkyou, he might be persuaded take Ranma with him. Ranma filled the kettle and placed it on the gas stove so it could heat up while he searched, wrapped Tarou's cloak snugly around himself, and headed out into the rain.
Ranma found the Chinese boy sitting at the base of the cliff with his back against the rocks. His head was bowed against his chest, his hair plastered thickly against his head with the rain, and he held a slender, feminine arm outstretched as if catching the raindrops. As Ranma approached, he raised his head and gave a sort of grim smile, his lips pressed tightly together.
"Here you are," Ranma said with forced cheer. "Finished… whatever it was you were doin'?"
Tarou emptied the water out of his outstretched hand and unsuccessfully tried to wipe it dry on his sodden pants.
"I've put the kettle on," Ranma continued. "D'you want some tea? Or hot water?"
Tarou nodded slowly.
"C'mon then."
Ranma turned and started to walk off in the direction he had come, Tarou following silently behind him.
Inside the tent, Ranma tossed the cloak aside and began to rummage through his backpack. Tarou sat down by the kettle crosslegged and touched a hand to its side. Ranma sat opposite him, twisting a pair of black pants and a white singlet about in his hands as he studied the other boy. His expression was one of faint boredom, but looking closer, Ranma could see how haggard he looked.
"You didn't have to run off like that. It ain't like I've never seen you cry before."
"I wasn't!" Tarou snapped indignantly.
"Sure you weren't," Ranma smirked. "Here." He tossed the clothes towards the other boy.
"What are these for?"
"They're for you… you know, to wear," Ranma said. "If I gotta look at you, you can at least be dressed."
Tarou laid Ranma's clothes aside and started to tug off his own.
"Look, Tarou… can I call you Tarou?"
The Chinese boy's hands froze in the middle of untying his vest. Eventually, he nodded.
Ranma stared absentmindedly at the back of his hand, trying to think of a way of phrasing what he was about to say. He'd always hated apologising; it made him feel like a naughty little boy. "I shouldna done that thing with the name this morning," he eventually managed to spit out. "And I prob'ly shouldna said that stuff earlier. And… I won't anymore, okay?"
Immediately, Tarou opened his mouth to respond, his lips twisting into a derisive sneer, but then closed it again without making a sound. His hands dropped to his sides limply and he turned and stared off into the distance, his expression unreadable.
"Why are you being nice to me?" Tarou whispered.
There was that question, again. He'd asked the same question the first time he'd visited, back after they'd convinced Happousai to change his name. And at other times, even if he hadn't asked the actual question, there was that same sheer disbelief.
"Why? I don't like bein' hated. And I just wanna work together and find Ryouga." Ranma paused, waiting for a response, but there was none. "I used to keep doing the name thing 'cause you kept calling me fem-boy and bein' a jerk and stuff, and 'cause it made you angry," he explained further. "I didn't realise… but I don't mean to hurt nobody. Not even you."
Tarou bowed his head against his chest, his face hidden in the shadows of his thick black bangs. Ranma leaned forward and laid a hand on the other boy's arm, hoping that he wasn't about to burst into tears or anything embarrassing like that.
"Tarou?"
Tarou jerked his head up and met Ranma's gaze. His eyes were dry but he did appear to be feeling rather moved.
"The kettle's hot."
Tarou nodded and quickly stripped himself off, changed himself back, and then dressed himself in the clothes Ranma had given him earlier.
"You think you could stop calling me fem-boy, now?" Ranma said hopefully.
Tarou shrugged indifferently, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. "At least until you get your curse back. It doesn't suit as well at the moment, anyway."
---
Tarou awoke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest. He was sitting bolt upright, clutching desperately at his left shoulder, trying to ease the throbbing dream pain although it was already receding. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, trying to shed the after images of his dream. Another nightmare. The same one he had been having for several days. A memory, and not one he was prepared to deal with yet; not one he'd ever wanted to deal with.
… running blindly through the darkness, half out of his mind with pain and shame…
He pushed aside the thought and looked around intently, as if he could drown out the dream images with real-life ones. Through the open tent flap, he could see the muted, almost blue-tinged light which indicated it was just before dawn. Beside him, Ranma was sprawled most of the way off his bedroll, snoring loudly, looking and sounding uncannily like a younger – but skinnier – version of his father.
Tarou crawled down to the end of his bedroll, where his clothes, still soggy from the previous evening's rain, lay bundled up on the ground. He picked through them until he found his leather pouch, still hidden in the folds of his sash. He opened it and checked the contents, glad that the rain hadn't damaged anything. The incense sticks were the most important items in there – other than his mother's earring, of course. Mentally, he congratulated himself that he'd thought to move them from the cardboard tube that they'd originally been in to a waterproof tin. He fastened the pouch back up and slipped it into his backpack, tucking it well out of sight at the bottom. It would be more secure there than in his sash, and he didn't want to risk fem-boy finding it and guessing the purpose for the incense before he had a chance to use it on him.
Tentatively, he poked a head out of the tent. Everything was still damp, but it had obviously stopped raining early in the night. The sky was completely clear; a deep indigo dotted with a handful of rapidly fading stars.
He stepped outside and stretched the kinks out of his neck, and then set out through the trees looking for firewood. He drifted along silently, avoiding the wet grass and low hanging branches with an ease and grace that came from many years of practice, pausing every so often to pick up a suitable lump of wood and add it to the growing bundle tucked under his arm. He hadn't expected to find a stream this high up in the mountains, but he did locate a small waterhole nestled in a natural hollow only a short distance from the campsite. The water was clear and tasted fresh enough to drink, so he made a mental note of its location and headed back to the camp.
Working quietly so as not to accidentally wake Ranma, he grabbed the cooking equipment, the kettle, a knife, a box of waterproof matches, and the food supplies from the backpacks.
Most of the timber he had collected was still damp, so he selected a suitable piece and, using the knife, deftly whittled away the wet outer layer. He then shaved off a number of small curls of the dry inner wood, which he gathered in a pile on the ground. He struck a match and touched it to the pile; the shavings caught fire quickly, and by blowing gently and adding some tiny twigs, and then adding progressively larger pieces of wood, he managed to coax the tiny flames to life. Satisfied that the fire wouldn't go out, Tarou tossed on several more pieces of wood, and then wandered off to fill the kettle.
Tarou knelt down by the waterhole and dipped the empty kettle into the water, careful not to disturb the mud at the bottom. He sat for a moment, mesmerised by the ripples that drifted across the water, glinting silver in the early morning sunlight. Two small birds flitted past and landed on the opposite side of the waterhole. They weren't frightened by his closeness; he had long ago mastered the art of being able to fade his presence into the background when he wanted to. It was the way he had survived so many years on his own.
He stood up in a single fluid motion and headed back through the trees towards the camp, shielding his eyes from the long fingers of light peeking through the trees. He still enjoyed his early mornings alone, although, inexplicably, Ranma's company wasn't bothering him as much as it had previously. The first night – the one he had spent at the Tendou Dojo – he had confidently predicted that he'd have strangled the pigtailed boy in his sleep by now, but instead, even if they didn't actually like each other, they did seem to be getting along much better than he had thought possible.
Tarou settled down crosslegged by the fire and began to chop the leftover roast pork into the cooking pot, letting his mind wander as his fingers went through the familiar motions automatically. He was curious about the moves that Ranma had been practicing – or at least, attempting to practice, he thought to himself with a chuckle – the previous morning. Now that he had deduced the underlying principles of the move and seen a demonstration, he no longer considered the non-perfect variety to be much of a threat; the range was too small and the stance a dead giveaway, giving him ample time to back out of reach. On the other hand, it should be a simple enough technique to duplicate, if he could find an emotion which suited him better than fem-boy's ego or pig-boy's depression. He had never been particularly interested in flashy ki techniques, preferring to rely on either his formidable hand-to-hand skill or the power of his cursed form. His cursed body, however, as much a part of him as his human body, was – for the present, at least – no longer an option. He needed to find a replacement weapon to add to his arsenal, and if a flashy ki technique was what was available, then that's what he'd learn.
He discarded the now meatless pig bones, then added some dried vegetables, water, soy sauce and several pinches of suitable smelling spices to the cooking pot. Then, he hung the cooking pot over the fire, and went off to find a suitable area for his usual morning practice while breakfast was cooking.
---
He couldn't smell them yet, but their thin, yowling voices tore through him. These weren't foxes – just another predator to be feared – these were infinitely worse. Cats. Even as a human, the mere thought of them horrified him, but now, as a piglet, the fear had been magnified a thousandfold.
They were approaching. He didn't turn to look. He couldn't bear to see all those piercing, slitted eyes, glowing unnaturally green, staring at him.
He ran. Sprinted through the undergrowth as fast as he could, sheer primal terror coursing through every fibre of his body. They were gaining on him. He tried not to imagine the weight of their bodies upon him, the feel of their claws in his flesh; tried not to think about those hundreds of little needle teeth, reeking of fish, biting into him. A fresh wave of fear flooded through him, and then another as he realised that his piglet body was fleeing purely on instinct, and that he had no more chance of controlling it than if he'd been a flea on its back.
Suddenly, he was human again and standing face to face with Ryouga. The cats were clustered around them in a large circle, the nearest ones sitting several metres away, and somehow, Ranma knew that Ryouga was the one keeping them away from him.
"Ryouga! You gotta help me!" he cried. "Get 'em away from me!"
The lost boy simply looked at him, his large brown eyes filled with regret.
"C'mon, man! Please? I'm gonna go crazy!" Ranma pleaded, not caring how desperate he sounded. He could feel the Nekoken clawing at the edges of his psyche, trying to take over.
"You were too late to help me," Ryouga replied darkly.
"What are you talking about, idiot?! Help me!!"
"It's too late. You took too long, Ranma. I can't help you anymore."
The lost boy cast one last, almost apologetic, look at Ranma and then vanished into thin air, leaving the pigtailed boy alone with the cats. In one smooth movement they pounced, piling on top of him, their dreadful cries drowning out his screams.
Ranma opened his eyes, relief flooding through him as he recognised his surroundings. His heart was racing; pounding in his chest like it was trying to break out through his ribcage. He sat up and took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. He wasn't in the forest, being attacked by what seemed like thousands of cats. He was here, in the tent, and he was safe.
"What a weird dream!" he muttered, rubbing at his sweaty face with his hand. He felt uneasy, as though he were still being hunted.
"…you were too late…"
What had that been about? Too late for what? Was Ryouga angry with him… is that why he wouldn't help? And why the tremendous feeling of sorrow from the lost boy?
He was interrupted in his thoughts by the sound of the tent flap being pushed aside. He looked up to see Tarou peering in at him curiously.
"You're finally awake," the Chinese boy remarked. "Hungry?"
"Yeah."
Unusually for him, he wasn't, but he knew he would be later if he didn't force something down. He followed the other boy to the campfire, where he was handed a bowl of meat, vegetables and rice. Ranma picked at it half-heartedly at first, his eating gradually gaining momentum as the knot of unease in his stomach melted away.
"You look terrible," Tarou said brightly.
Just great, Ranma thought. He'd only been awake for two minutes and he'd already been insulted – that had to be a record, even for Tarou. So much for hoping that being nicer to the jerk might encourage him to act less unpleasantly in return.
"You ain't exactly gonna win a beauty contest yourself."
"You were making enough noise in there," the Chinese boy said. "Bad dream?"
"Yeah, kind of. Did I…. say anything?"
"You were screaming," Tarou offered. "Does that count?"
"Was not!" Ranma snapped. He folded his arms across his chest indignantly.
"And you were calling out pig-boy's name," Tarou added, smirking. He poked around in his bowl with his chopsticks, absentmindedly. "Maybe it wasn't screaming I heard, after all."
"That's right!" Ranma growled. Ranma Saotome didn't scream like some sissy girl over a bunch of stupid cats. At least he hadn't been yelling about cats in his sleep – he hated to think how much mileage Tarou would get out of his phobia. He decided that it was safer to change the subject; the Chinese boy had an irritating knack for figuring things out with very little information.
"What've you got to be so cheerful about, anyway?"
"No particular reason. I did find something you might be interested in, though."
"Yeah, what?"
Tarou chuckled. "I'll show you. Hurry up and finish eating."
Tarou quickly emptied his bowl, grabbed some things from around the campfire and then disappeared into the tent. Ranma was happy to ignore him and finish eating in peace.
After breakfast, Tarou led them out to the rocks, to the side furthest away from the campsite.
"So," Tarou said grandly, a broad smirk plastered across his face, "what do you see?" He gestured expansively with a sweep of his arm.
Ranma gazed around him. The rocks loomed up into the sky above him, and the ground around him was smooth, level and free of trees. He frowned. The jerk couldn't just tell him what he had found like a normal person, could he?
"I dunno," Ranma replied irritably. "Why don't you tell me what I'm s'posed to see?"
"What's the matter?" Tarou smiled. "You can't figure it out on your own?"
"Y'know Tarou, I think I like you better when you're in a bad mood," Ranma said.
"You're no fun." The Chinese boy gave a dismissive snort, then pointed at the ground at his feet. "Here. See the tracks?"
Ranma squinted down at where Tarou had indicated; it was only faint, but he could make out a depression in the shape of a large cloven hoof.
"A hoof mark?" Ranma grumbled. "We saw a heap yesterday, remember? What's so special about this one?"
"Look in front of it."
Ranma did. A couple of steps to the side and in front of the first track, he found another, sunk slightly deeper into the ground than the first.
"Yeah, there's another one. He's walking."
"And in front of that one?"
Ranma folded his arms across his chest indignantly and scowled at the Chinese boy. He didn't like to feel stupid and he didn't like to feel talked down to, and right now Tarou was doing a great job of both. Eventually he walked forward and examined the ground in front of the second track.
"I don't see anything," he said, puzzled.
"That's because there aren't any more," Tarou explained slowly. "He's taking off." He demonstrated by stepping forward twice, putting more weight on the front foot.
"Oh yeah." Ranma wandered around, scouring the ground for more tracks. Tarou couldn't have been so excited about this one set of tracks. There had to be something he was missing, and he was damned if he was going to ask about it unless he had to. "Here's another set!" he exclaimed brightly, pointing out a second set of tracks in the dirt.
"That's right," Tarou said. "And there's a third one over there."
Three sets of hoof marks, all taking off in the same direction. Ranma peered up into the sky, then at the rocks. "He's flying up to the top?" he muttered. "No, wait." He looked closer, focusing on a dark shadowy patch about two thirds of the way up the rocks. "Is that a cave?"
"Bingo!"
"But how do you know if he's still up there?"
"I don't, but I have found only two sets of tracks where he's landed. That could be because he flew further the third time, or I could have missed them, or it could be because he hasn't come down yet. We won't know unless we go up there."
"Ah! That's why you've got my torch tucked in your pants, then?"
Tarou grinned. "He does have a brain!"
"Hey!" Ranma exclaimed, as he lobbed a handy pebble at the Chinese boy's head. Tarou dodged it, sniggering loudly.
"I'm assuming you know how to climb?" Tarou smirked.
Ranma popped his knuckles and grinned. "Of course."
Naturally, Ranma wasn't about to let Tarou show him up at something physical, so he took a flying leap at the cliff face and landed nimbly on a small ledge about thirty feet up. There was another ledge higher up, which he sprang up to and caught the edge of with his fingers. With a grunt of effort, he pulled himself up and hooked his feet onto the ledge, then stood up, trying to work out his next move. There weren't any more overhanging ledges nearby, so he tucked his fingertips into small cracks between the rocks and began to climb.
Progress was slow. The rocks were weak and crumbly and more than one handhold had broken
away under Ranma's hands. In the end, he kicked off his shoes, so that he could get a better grip with his toes, Martial Arts Tea Ceremony style.
"Watch it, you idiot!"
Ranma felt a small rock hit him on the back of his thigh. He looked down to see Tarou scowling up at him, and below him, his discarded shoes fluttering down towards the ground.
"Who are you calling an idiot?" he called down. He tossed a pebble down towards the other boy for emphasis.
Ranma heard Tarou mutter something under his breath but could not make out the words. He grinned to himself and continued climbing. To his surprise, he found that he was enjoying himself. It wasn't in his nature to think too much about a problem – unless it was combat related, and even then he preferred to just wing it – so he particularly liked anything he could tackle using his body alone. On top of that, it seemed they were finally catching up with Ryouga. Hopefully, Tarou's predictions from the previous evening regarding the lost boy's health had been an exaggeration, designed to upset him or make him feel guilty – Ranma wouldn't put it past him.
Eventually, he neared the cave entrance. He hooked his fingers over the edge and heaved himself up, barely missing landing in a puddle of water, left over from the previous night's rain. He drew himself upright and grinned down triumphantly at the Chinese boy, still about ten feet below him.
"Hurry up, slowpoke!" he called down the cliff.
He chuckled to himself, ignoring the irritated look he'd just been given.
Before long, Tarou had reached the cave entrance. Ranma stood on the edge with his arms folded across his chest, looking down as one hand gripped the edge, then the other.
"Now, where've I seen this before?"
Tarou froze, his eyes narrowed.
"C'mon," Ranma said, grinning. He knelt down by the edge and extended a hand. "Watch the water when you come up."
Tarou gave the hand a pointed look, and then, almost hesitantly, took it in his and hauled himself over the edge, carefully placing only his fingertips in the puddle. He then climbed to his feet and approached the cave entrance, tugging the torch free from his sash as he did so. Ranma stood beside him and peered into the darkness, catching only glimpses of the cave interior as the light from the torch danced around.
"How 'bout you give me that?" he said, indicating the torch. "I can't see a thing the way you're waving it about."
Grudgingly, Tarou handed the torch over. Ranma, lighting the way, began to head into the cave.
The floor sloped upwards for a short distance and then fell away again. The air was heavy, dank and stale, like some long forgotten tomb. Here and there, Ranma could see hoof prints and the occasional enormous handprint pressed into the earthen floor. Their progress was eerily quiet, the soft padding sounds of Ranma's bare feet and Tarou's slippered ones barely disturbing the silence.
Eventually, the tunnel opened out into a massive cavern, stretching out into the darkness beneath them. Ranma shone the torch over the edge of the cliff, but the beam wasn't strong enough to penetrate to the bottom.
"What do we do now?" Ranma said despondently. "Ryouga!" he called. There was no response. "Ryouga!!" He felt a tingle of fear on the back of his neck. "Maybe he's not in here."
"Maybe we're too late," the Chinese boy replied grimly. "Maybe he's dead."
"… you were too late…" echoed the voice from his dream.
Ranma felt a flush of rage from within. "No!" Ranma shouted. "He's not dead and he's my friend and I'm gonna find him, even if I have to do it myself!"
Tarou chuckled.
"Shut up, you!" he growled. He stepped right up onto the overhanging lip and the edge of the cliff, and leaned over, trying to find a way down.
"Watch it! The rock-" he heard Tarou say from behind him.
He wasn't sure what happened next. The lip of rock seemed to tilt and crumble beneath him. The torch slipped from his fingers, spinning away into the darkness. He felt fingers scrape past his arm, trying to grab hold of him, but they had missed. He could hear Tarou shouting something at him, but he couldn't make out the words over the roar of the rocks. His stomach gave a sickening lurch as he went into a freefall.
His eyes were opened wide, but all he could see was an expanse of black. He felt strangely calm, and his only real regret was that he would never see Akane again. His last thought, before his world exploded in pain and blackness, was a hope that Tarou would go back to the dojo and explain what had happened; at least that way, she wouldn't need to spend the rest of her life worrying about him.
---
The cry awoke him from his slumber. Somebody was in trouble… they needed him. He couldn't remember the direction of the cry, but luckily, this beast form's hearing was good enough that he could hear the person falling through the air. He rushed towards them, ignoring the dizziness that threatened to make him pass out again, letting every protective instinct in his body take over. He made it just in time, cupping his great hands under the falling figure just before they hit the ground.
He heard another shout from high up on the cliff face. He was fairly sure the second person was male, although it was one of those voices that made it hard to tell.
The person in his hand wasn't moving. He could smell blood, but he could also make out a heartbeat when he lowered an ear to the person's chest. This person was definitely a male, and he was alive, but unconscious. He needed to be taken to a doctor.
Ryouga mustered all of his available strength and took off, flapping his tiny wings as fast as he could. He turned all of his attention to the second figure on the cliff, quickly homing in on their position using his hearing. As gently as he could, he picked up the second person in his free hand, wishing he had a way of reassuring them that he wouldn't hurt them. They hadn't needed rescuing, but the last thing he wanted was for them to panic when he came past and run blindly off the cliff.
He tucked himself into the tunnel and began to walk. There wasn't much room, so he had to hunch over, laying his tentacles flat against his back so that he didn't scrape their tender flesh on the rocks above. He ignored the way his head was throbbing, and he ignored the waves of nausea he felt rising. He wondered why he felt nauseous; it wasn't like he had eaten anything to throw up anyway.
As he walked, Ryouga turned his attention to the second person, who he could now feel was also male, curious why he hadn't screamed or struggled. Not only that, the person was speaking to him calmly, saying something about campsites and hot water nearby. In fact, now that he thought about it, the person's voice did sound familiar.
Finally, he reached the cave entrance. He squinted his eyes against the glare, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the daylight and for the black spots to stop dancing around in front of his eyes. Gingerly, he opened his eyes, and looked at the people in his hands.
In his left hand was Ranma; he was unconscious. In his right, Pantyhose Tarou, most definitely conscious and addressing him in that typical haughty manner of his. Ryouga decided to ignore him for the time being, at least until he got onto the ground. His mind was reeling with questions, but unfortunately it was also just reeling and it was all he could do to stay on his feet.
He jumped off the cliff, concentrating on keeping his wings flapping. He hit the ground hard – too hard – relying on his martial arts training to roll to the side properly and keep the people in his hands safe. He struggled up to his feet again, and then placed Tarou on the ground. The Chinese boy was speaking again, more urgently this time, pointing back towards the rocks. Ryouga tried to listen, but the pounding in his head seemed to fill his whole world and he couldn't make out the words. He couldn't remember ever feeling this tired; he just needed to rest for a while, and then everything would be alright. He laid Ranma down gently and then, slowly, collapsed forward onto the ground beside him.
Revision History: Fixed characterisation issues in the village, and then later for the Ranma and Tarou's argument, and Ranma's later apology.
Glossary:
Sifu - Chinese equivalent of Sensei.