"We beckon ye forth, Lord of Midnight. We summon you, o Avatar of Oblivion." The array shone one last time before being enveloped by the ebon energy. The darkness concentrated, falling into itself at the point of the summoning circle, swirling, twisting and taking shape. This was the gate, and beyond it, their master. The agonizing weight that hung in the air affected them both, dropping them to their knees. It was only fitting that they bow before their master, and his growing presence seemed to command it be so. Prostrated with eyes lowered they did not see the form that was defined as the gate waned and disappeared.

"Rise." The word was spoken simply, and the two twisted humans could do not but obey. They were subject to the will of their master, and would do as their lord commanded. They would not stand, but instead, rise to one knee, raising their eyes to take in the shape of their liege.

"For what end have you summoned me?" This was the terrible master, Abyssal Shadow, and his name was as accurate as one might ever find. He was man-shaped, but that is where the similarities between he and the ape-descended dominators of the earth ended. Where one part began and the other ended was clear, but beyond that no feature was distinct, leaving the demon a mercurial being of shifting darkness. Chains trailed his form, links broken apart from where they had grappled with him. Their master had been imprisoned and now was free, surely they would be rewarded.

"We have called to you, my lord, to ask a boon in return for the freedom we have helped you achieve." The words were full of false confidence and piety: they had been humbled by his presence, and were merely sheep that acted the part of wolves.

"Ask of me your boon and you shall have it." The cackling that night was beyond description and the world over the people could not help but to shiver as they continued their lives unaware truly of the evil that would be visited upon their reality.

So Cold

By: XZero

Chapter 8 - True to Form

Skillfully she dismissed the straight punch and similarly parried another set of strong-armed blows before throwing out a seemingly singular attack. The sound of flesh striking flesh was cacophonous, and her husband stumbled back from the force. Her strength had grown in proportion to her skill, until it was equally monstrous as her lover's. Her smirk of satisfaction was shortlived as he rebounded from her blows with a fury that had her reeling. Desperately she swatted away forceful punches at mindbending speed. It would not be enough, several of the shattering attacks hit their mark, and with each she was knocked backward, until at last her defenses fell entirely and she was blown off her feet to careen painfully into the wall of the dojo.

"That's enough. Akane, you're getting better everyday. We'll work on your ki projection after tomorrow's classes." He walked over to her where she lay panting. He'd been driving her hard, but she had asked him to. It had been just as hard these past few days as it had been years prior when she had asked him to continue her training. All the same, he knew that for her sake she needed to be stronger, not only to defeat her enemies, but for her self-confidence.

"Alright." She gasped between breaths, taking the proffered hand-up. Shakily she stood, and slowly began for the door, passing through the threshold and stumbling for the main house.

"Rei, your turn." He said returning to his starting mark, today was the day that he'd increase the difficulty of her training. She had adapted fluidly to the previous level of power quickly, in fact, she had done so amazingly fast. She seemed born for this, and for it the fanged martial instructor was glad. She was his shining scion, his prodigal daughter. Her potential was greater even, in his estimation, than his own, greater perhaps than even Ranma's. She had taken her mark, and at his signal, they began.

Mu Tzu

Parry, evade, duck, counter-attack high left.

Thrust kick forward, back-flip and jump, chain attack circular, whirling defense.

A single bead of sweat dripping down Mousse's brow, though it did nothing to disrupt his concentration, salty perspiration stung his eyes, yes, but for him, vision meant nothing. His senses were finely tuned, and the soft displacement of air that his opponent's fist caused was ample warning. His left arm shot up to parry the strike even as the right summoned a tonfa from within his sleeve, that arm darted forward, intent on delivering strikes with a surgeon's precision at the Tenketsu of his opponent. Energy flow restriction would improve his odds of victory. Already his field of passive energy was being assaulted without quarter by the unmastered might of his adversary. Three of the five strikes were successful and the effects were immediately apparent, the limb was dimmer to his sight, and the sluggish response a tell-tale of sign of his small victory.

Celebration of this accomplishment was short-lived, as his assailant struck him with the uninjured limb. Waves of pain crashed over him as energy formerly channeled into the left arm was shunted into the right. Each impact against his flesh caused a shockwave to travel both through him, and through the air. The itch in his nose was a testament to the cloud of dust rising from the dry ground around them. His 'sight' was clouded not by the dust, but instead by the new agony as his enemy pressed his advantage. His opponent hooked a leg around behind his and pushed against his chest signaling the perfect execution of Osotogari. The pause as the other lashed out with a simple ki-burst was terrible. The golden energy rushed over him even as it detonated, released finally from the tremendous pressure its master kept in under. A spider web of cracks formed in the ground beneath him as he struck it. An acrid smell reached his nostrils and his tempered flared. The duel had been silent until now.

"Damnit Ranma, my shirt!" He groused, even as he gripped the hand that the other man offered.

"Sorry Mousse, I saw an opening and took it. Didn't mean to wreck your shirt." The other man was blushing, the tone was the same as Mousse had come to associate with the memory of the Japanese man's time-tested practice of scratching the back of his head when embarrassed or apologizing, often these times were in synchronicity.

"It's of no consequence. Your skill is improving, your use of simple techniques is a testament. I suppose it is easier now, to see the true usefulness of simplicity. Gods the techniques we used were wasteful. All that energy we wasted on flashy or advanced maneuvers, when the basics are all we ever really needed. Though I suppose skill isn't a matter of how much you know, rather, how you use what you know."

Amazed at the perception of the blind man, Ranma became solemn in near an instant. It was then that the platinum haired woman approached canteens held in each hand. It was her appearance that signaled the real end of the session. Once Kiima stepped to them, each had a different reaction. The energy burns that still throbbed on his chest seemed to take priority, and with a simple gesture of thanks the blind warrior retreated to dress his wounds. Though it was imperceptible to the other two occupants of the training area, finely tuned ears stayed tuned to the others long enough only to catch the critique of his opponent's performance. His low chuckles went unnoticed as the two moved away, continuing their quiet conversation.

Rei

Jab, counterattack, parry high, foot-sweep, feint, rising asp strike, back-flip, stance change.

Rei was panting, and the sweat that stung her eyes even as she wiped it left her open for an eternity. Her opponent took no action. Her father was faster, stronger, more sklilled than she, and had two decades of experience on her. She had no real chance, no, but her style was meant to counter the very basics of his own, and in truth she still had a few tricks from the echoes left to surprise him with. Her control was first rate, though it wasn't at her goal yet. The only battle aura she could manifest at present was still very shaky, but that was alright. Next time he closed in, she would unleash her secret, let loose the true power of this style.

He was impressed, they had been training for almost four hours straight, in a constant spar for three, and more than once he'd had to increase his tempo to match her growing fluidity, true, she'd only been sparring with him, and her skill against him would be different from her skill against another, but his daughter had grown by leaps and bounds in the past weeks since they had began.

He studied her as he left his thoughts, she'd caught her breath, and had managed to bring her heart rate under control. She took a moment to wipe sweat from her forehead, and instead of charging forward, paused. He saw the look of confusion pass over her features, but it remained only for an instant. A smirk graced her lips, and a memory within him surged to the surface. His rival and best friend stood before him, not the raven haired girl he'd raised. In that moment he heard the words that he'd come to miss, part of the ritual of battle between them.

"What're ya waitin' for pig-boy?" To his shock it had been Rei who'd spoken, quoting a man who had been "dead" for years now. He looked into her eyes, and within them saw his spirit. Her stance changed slightly, falling into the stance that signified Saotome Anything Goes. Wisps of blue flame limned her body, and then retreated. Power blazed just behind her eyes in a tightly restrained tempest.

His own expression twisted into a smile, and in an instant his suppressed ki experienced a moment of release, his charge and subsequent combo trapped her against a wall. She'd retreated far too much, and the frown and scoff displayed it.

"Quit running away." He sounded to himself much like he had years ago, though his words now were not filled with the rage that blinded him then. He pressed his advantage then, and that was when her smirk turned into a feral grin.

He had a moment to process the attack she unleashed, but even if he'd brought his power back to full it was too late to avoid.

Her moment came, and the blazing fist struck her father's exposed chest. The moment he committed to the attack she had shifted her momentum in the way she'd dreamed. As she took her last step back she willed herself to rock back on one foot, and in an instant change direction, powering forward into her father's guard and releasing the built-up energy from both the momentum and her spirit into a single blow. Blue fire erupted from her clenched fist, striking her sensei square in his unprotected chest. The move would never work again, but then, it didn't need to, she had achieved what she wanted, and would adapt the technique into her arsenal of regular attacks now that it had been tested. Drained she fell to her knees, cursing herself for using so much of her already direly taxed strength.

A shadow fell over her, and she saw her father standing over her with a smile on his face.

"Congratulations, you caught me off guard with that one. He never used that one on me, what's it called?"

She smiled as he praised her cunning, and smiled even more when he asked it's name.

"Reiatsu Dageki"

The technique was literally named, and the both of them could not help but to laugh, they continued to laugh for quite some time, just the two.

Ku Lon

The ancient woman and her grandchild had continued on from the meeting with the Phoenix King at breakneck speeds, spending as little time as possible at rest, and pushing themselves to exhaustion, traveling hours at a time without rest. Sleep was taken only in short stints at a rushed camp. Their people had survived millennia, and it was through this inherited perseverance that neither woman accepted the fatigue that plagued them. It was that two weeks of this sort of travel had found them touching the sea of Japan. They would find charter from this small port, just as they had previously. Swimming was not an option, and the sister who had helped them cross before was far too old now to manage the journey. With resolution they made their way to the home of the woman.

Tso Pu

Tso Pu was not your ordinary young woman. She and her brothers bore an interesting profession. Their family was of proud Amazon stock, and her father a master Martial Angler. She had not given much thought to the absurdity of her family's less than normal background, until she went to school. The limited schooling she had received, chiefly from Christian missionaries, was enough for her to know that her raising was not ordinary, even among her fellow Chinese. The village she hailed from, if even it could be given such a title, being no more than a handful of families cohabitating, was a speck of dust on the coast of China.

She reveled as a child in stories of the Amazon's of old: mythical women who wielded martial skill and spiritual power with heroic strength, and determined ferocity. For her, it was emboldening, for while her family was Amazon, the other few families were not, and she had been looked down on by her peers, boys all, at least, the ones who attended the indoctrinating grammar school.

Even the girls, few and subservient that they were, shunned her. She represented something they could not cope with, not while they were trapped as servants in their own homes. They hated her, and while her mother insisted it was because the males, she would always remember the way her mother's eyes narrowed and venom reviled in her mouth as she spat that word – though she never since then spoke so cruelly of men – taught them to do so, to ostracize her and break her spirit, she knew that it was because in truth they were jealous of her independence and freedom.

Never in her life did she expect the surprise she would receive this day. A knock from the door was the summons that changed her life. Pulling open the heavy door she saw no one, at least, not until she gazed downward, to see…

"Ah! Mummy, kill it!" The words issued from her and before she knew the better, a flare of pain erupted in her head. Her hand lifted to massage the sudden pain and she saw the instrument of delivery. A gnarled wooden staff, four feet in length, and grasped solidly by the withered creature that stood before her.

Another presence came to her attention, and suddenly she understood. Another woman, this one garbed in a style that her own mother insisted upon, though this was far more informal, it perfectly matched her mother's description of Amazon battle attire. The bonbori and Ming resting at each hip confirmed it. Taking another glance at the woman only further solidified the conclusion she had rightly come to.

"I apologize for grandmother, she meant no offense, merely that an old friend habitually referred to her that way, and received the same punishment for his flippancy." The lavender haired woman explained, her gentle smile disarmed the young and turquoise tressed angler. From behind her another voice called out, this one with extreme joy. Her mother.

"Elder and, Xian…? Xian Pu is that you?" The elder bluette queried as if shocked. At a nod, her smile blossomed anew. She had not expected to see these two women again in her lifetime, especially not the ancient woman that stood before her now. They were both travel worn, and apparently, very much in need of her family's services again.

"Pu, go get your brothers, you're going to be going on a trip tomorrow, isn't that right elder?" She was far from offended by their presence, it was a blessing to have even momentary contact with sisters from her home. Since she had married her husband, she had precious little contact with the world she'd grown up in. It was saddening, but ultimately worth it. Her husband's spirit was far too wild to broken within the confines of their village, and even worse, his skills, tied as they were to the sea, would be rendered useless by remaining in a landlocked region such as the Jusenkyo Valley.

It had been a hard change, coming here, so far from her family, but the happiness she had known with her husband had proven worth it. It had been more than a decade since she had last seen Ku Lon and her great granddaughter, and the purple haired woman had grown into such a woman, but Ku Lon remained unchanged, and for that, Lo Xian was grateful. The elder had been an immutable part of her youth, and her wisdom had meant so much to the woman in her youth, even now, she was reverent of the ancient woman.

"Yes child, I'm afraid so. Once again we seem to be going after Son-in-law, his penchant for trouble seems to have grown since his incarceration at Phoenix Mount. He travels now for Japan, returning home, accompanied by Xian Pu's husband Mu Tzu and the Captain of Saffron's imperial guard." The diminutive woman then began to chuckle, and Lo Xian joined in, followed by Xian Pu, and all Tso Pu could do was stare on in confusion.

Saffron

It was times like these the pheonix wished he'd been fully awakened, then he could pace out his frustrations instead of letting ghis rising ire smoulder, though he would not use such a pun in description. Before him knelt three of his finest trackers, and their report was nothing less than terrible. Only a day before he'd felt a wave of energy unknown to the world for several thousand years emerge did they say he'd lost scouts. Guard duty had been light with the preparations for his coming rebirth ceremony. Those who would otherwise be dedicated to the post of sentry were instead being spread throughotu the region, gathering certain necessities. Herbs and crops were being gathered for the feast that would follow. Foremost though the search for animals to be used as sacrifice was painfully slow.

"Well done, you are dismissed. Hytari!" His subtle intonations took shape in the minds of his soldiers, and with deep bows the three avians retreated from the chamber, only to be replaced almost immediately by another man, this one lacking the wings of the armsmen whose position he'd just filled. This man, though for all the world he seemed a member of the avain race, lacked the hereditary wings of his people.

"Yes my liege?" He repiled formally, resting on one knee with one hand balled over his heart and the other cupped over the pommel of his sword.

"I wish for you to bear a message to the Musk and Amazon nations. Kozu, if you would be so kind, would you give him the message?" To say that the steel eyed youth was surprised by the lack of formality between the King and the ancient loremaster was no small understatement. Turning grey eyes back to his king, he received the message without comment. He was used to such missions, where he lacked wings, he more than made up for this disability with his fierce determination and obsessive physical training.

"To whom shall I deliever these messages, my lord?" The man queried only to find himself excluded from what appeared to be a private conversation between Kozu and the king. Saffron's egg pulsed and the emanation of energy felt impatient, though the messages he sent to the man were direct instead of the usual emanations the king employed. It still awed him the power his lord must posess to use such a complex method of communication. Then again, who was to say the ability of a walking diety, whether in the shape of an egg or in that of a bird of flame.

After only a few moments their conversation ended, and without missing a beat the wisps of power connecting the two dulled, before once again the3 phoenix king's voice resumed in his mind.

"You are to deliver these scrolls to council of elders within Joketsuzoku and to none other than Herb. Under no circumstances are either of these scrolls to be seen by any other, your self included. If they are in danger of being taken from you, destroy them, and try your best to return to us without fear of reprisal. I entrust this mission to you above any other. Go child with the blessing of your king." There was no question about the seriousness of his mission, but then there hardly ever was. Saffron entrusted to him only missions of extreme sensitivty, solo missions all, and often time sensitive. He considered each an honor, and this was no different. A smile crept onto his face as he strode from the audience chamber, the royal guard stationed beyond the portal gazing in wonderment at the outcast, unable but to question the reasons one such as he would leave any audience with their king anything less than discouraged.

Hytari gathered his affects and prepared himself for the long circuitous journey around the three territories of the Jusenkyo valley. Tightening the cinch on his traveling pack the flightless pheonix messenger leapt from the skygate, rebounding from outcrop to ledge, leaping down the mountain's side with incredible grace the silver haired avian began on his mission, it would take a week, but it was without doubt that whatever the course of his mission, it would not be so easy as it seemed, errands for his King never were.

Ranma

Uncomfortable at the thought of charity, the reborn Saotome repeatedly tugged at the braid that so personified him. He mused at that, he had kept the same hairstyle for over thirty years, and to his reckoning, there was no need to change now, though that was not the subject of his attention. What occupied him presently was the strange feeling of standing on a pedestal in nothing but his underwear while a man danced around him humming.

He truly did appreciate Kiima's thoughtfulness. He'd been gazing at the window of this very tailory. Ranma had never been the sentimental type but the tang setting on display called to him as it had years ago. This one was to be special, it would be beautifully embroidered. Kiima had drawn freehand the pattern of a blue dragon coiling around the right arm and a gold highlighted pheonix soaring from heart to left shoulder. Praise turned her cheeks a rosy hue, and she giggled, presently her friend a dazzling smile.

Afterward it had been all business, though the time it was taking really was baffling to Ranma, who'd never really been fitted for anything in his life. How many measurements could a simple pair of pants take? He remembered his father making larger pants out of old, and then teaching him to do the same as he was growing. He was by no means a professional, but he didn't remember needing to know nearly as much. The crafter spent minutes taking down a number of measurements that Ranma didn't realize were necessary, including the size of his ankles and knees.

A slight poke jarred him from the thoughts, and in so doing reminded him of why he was so nervous. Kiima sat in a chair no more than five feet from him, watching the fitting proceed with a poorly performed look of part of it all that made him uncomfortable were exactly how many measurements one needed to make a pair of pants, and precisely what needed measuring. So far the man had checked, waist, inseam overall length, thigh and calf circumfrence.

The tailor finished his measurements in time with his hummed tune, and for the first time, seemed to actually take note of the person he'd been fitting. He saw the nervousness of his customer and spared a moment to glance between Ranma and Kiima, nodding to himself before speaking.

"Would you care for something to drink while I get to work?" he asked as a courtesy, afterall, when a customer came to order something of this magnitude, he was more than eager to please.

"Yes, though I think water should be fine. Ranma, you seem to be sweating." She emphasized the last word, and when the raven haired man looked at his reflection there was indeed light emanating from his skin, on closer inspection though he could see that the light was not illuminating the sweat on his now pale skin, Once again his aura had begun to leak into his atmosphere. He'd thought he'd gotten control of the power, but it seemed that he was still prone to bouts of lapse.

He closed his eyes where he stood, and cleared his mind, finding that it was filled with anxiety, though he attributed that to standing nearly naked in front of Kiima. His musing was interrupted when the tailor returned with their drinks. Ranma could not help but grow wide-eyed at the man carrying the water on a tray. Likely it was cold, and that thought alone sent another shiver throughout his body, raising goose-flesh across his body. The man moved easily, giving the silver haired avian woman her glass.

"This is the test" The half naked martial artist thought to himself. Since he'd reawoken from his imprisonment, he'd not come in contact with cold water, all of his meals being fresh and served with tea, and excess water being scarce in the mountain. Once a heating pipe had burst, and from it had emerged water, and indeed it had soaked him, but the water had been lukewarm. His curse had been strangely absent from his life, and he for one hadn't been one to complain, hoping the thing gone. The outfitter handed him his glass, and did not spill a drop, allowing the ur-teen to relax. He even calmed enough to raise his glass to his lips, drinking deep and enjoying the cool refreshment. That was when it happened.

A jolt shot through him, and simultaneously, the glass exploded in his hands, projecting tiny shards of glass about the room, none larger than a thumbnail. The tailor squeaked in fright, and Kiima stiffened noticably, her eyes growing wide. Ranma's did the same, a horrible feeling of despair overtaking him as his eyes were drawn in the direction of Pheonix Mountain. Though he could not see the mountain, or the valley, it was not with his eyes he looked. The burst of power that flared was evil, but strangely familiar. Dread crept along his spine as he shared a look with Kiima, before realization set in. In the background there was a dull thud.

He noticed the difference in his weight distribution, the change in perspective, and the absence of his manhood at that moment, and growled his frustration to the heavens. It was still there. With more than a little resentment, he'd turned around again, staring into a mirror to see the face that was not his. Wait, this was not his face, not even the elven features of the redhaired girl. This woman was different, shorter still than his male aspect, this woman was half a head shorter than he ordinarily stood, and her features were still the same, though she gave the image of a yuki-onna. What was once slightly cold male flesh had been tinged blue, as if caught unprepared in a blizzard and left frostbitten. Her features were the same, but seeing them there, on a woman, instead of a girl, was disconcerting. A greater change was the darkening of her hair, it had once been a vibrant and loud red, noticable as a traffic light. Now it had darkened to the color of fresh blood. Gazing down a bit more, she lifted a hand and felt her chest, it was, smaller? No, not smaller, just better proportioned to the woman she was instead or the child she had been. Sighing, the pigtailed aquatransexual gave a pitiable glance to his companion, hoping for some sympathy, to find that she too had been inspecting the changed curse body. When their eyes met, a faint blush tinged her cheeks, and she looked down.

"Ranma?" Kiima could not help but ask, staring at the very different, but incredibly similar woman. She fought down a blush of her own. Ranma's garb was not intended to restrain her generous busom, and so was straining the muscle shirt he'd been wearing. She shook her head once, and gazed at the tailor, noting his reaction. Standing she went to stand beside the man, sighing as she noted his state. He had fainted, not an unreasonable reaction to seeing a sculpted display of manly features shift seamlessly into a voluptuous ice woman. The change was startling even to she, though not for the same reasons.

"I'll get you some hot water so you can change back, then we will wake the tailor and pretend he didn't see, alright?" She suggested, feeling that discretion in this matter, and removing the discomfort from her friend to be paramount. They could have the conversation that would inevitably come in a private setting, and not while the owner of this store lay crumpled on the floor.

"Uh... Yeah, thanks." The woman spoke now for the first time, and instead of the high pitched voice that was once hers, dulcet tones that conveyed unparalleled femininity issued from her throat. The other woman could only feel herself further surprised. If she didn't know better, she would have been inclined to believe that the tone was intentional. Shrugging to herself to dispel the lingering effects of seeing this all, she simply walked into the same area the tailor himself had just come from.

Internalizing his feelings had always been a problem for the pigtailed man, and it was no different now, twenty years later and as a woman. But as Kiima returned with a cup that spilled steam over the edge of its brim, a well of tears reached his eyelids. Drops of crystal fluid dripped down one cheek, and the hormonal changes caught up. The not-she stepped forward into the taller woman, arms flung round her waist even as the bawling began.

Fears and uncertainties, these things were for mortal beings, but Ranma had succumb to them just the same. Perhaps he was not the untounchable figure she had made him to be. He was human, with all the same emotions as everyone else. Right now though, he was her friend in need. She could not deny attraction, and she suspected he too felt something, if the shy manner that would develop about him at times was any indication. She remembered keenly thier interaction these past few days, but as they drew closer to Japan the weight of his emotions hung heavier over him. She feared for him, he had found a place for himself within her heart, and though it had not developed into anything beyond companionship, she could not deny the flush that contact with him brought to her.

"Why can't you share this burden?" She muttered into the hair of the calming redhead. Small sounds in her throat and gentle, meaningless words, seemed to comfort Ranma, but Kiima could not help but notice something else. The warmth of the other woman's touch was astounding, not for its heat, nor its lack, instead she felt no different than any other. The frost that collected from her breaths was chilling against her breasts, and when she shivered in response she could feel her companion draw back, eyes impossibly large for one so small. She seemed to have collected herself, Kiima's gasp drawing her back to herself.

"I'm sorry." The pigtailed woman apologized, reaching out to take Kiima's larger hands into her own. Flushing Kiima felt heat rise in her chest, not unlike what she felt from Ranma's proximity normally, not unlike, but not the case. Instead when her eyes fluttered closed and then open again she observed the crimson tressed womans look of concentration.

"Thank you Kiima." And to the other woman's surprise, lifted on tiptoes to kiss her cheek.

She settled herself again and watched as Kiima blushed cutely. Taking a beat to regain her composure, Ranma proceeded to lift her arm to her face, wiping away the tears.

A throat cleared, and the crimson tressed woman, froze in place, shock written across her features. Jerikly she turned on her heel and looked at the unseeing eyes of Mousse. He'd seen her, and mortification crossed her features before he spoke.

"Ranma, I have the hot water." His voice, and the lack of mocking in his tone eased her. She had forgotten how much he'd changed, not to mention that he was indeed even in the building. She looked at the cup of water in his hands, and noted that it was different then the one from before. A quick glance told her why. The previous ceramic mug had spilled. Swallowing heavily she took the new glass from Mousse, and with a shudder, drew it up and dumped its contents onto herself. Feeling the ripple of change course through her body once more. Things taking the place they belonged. The blue tone of her skin warmed, and the red washed out of his hair, black taking its place. For a moment he lost control of his aura and it flared around him. Golden light receded and the effect was obvious, that little discharge had dried him instantaneously, doing the same to the spill of water at her feet.

The tailor woke and didn't know what to think. He seemed to accept the story they gave him, he'd merely fainted. He apologized for the delay and continued as if nothing had happened.

An hour later they emerged from the tailor, Ranma's backpack bearing the added clothing. He wore a fresh set of the red and black for which he had become known, arms bare but for a pair of leather forearm guards and black slacks tied close at both waist and ankle. Saotome Ranma was back, and would return to Japan the next day, Kiima could not shake the feeling of nostalgia at seeing her blue eyed friend in that clothing. But when her thoughts turned to their journey, she felt the weight of Saffron's worry upon her mind. Whatever was happening, when Ranma did return to Japan, something would happen, and it would change their entire world forever.

Unknown

"We desire youth and beauty, we desire a chance to once again feel in our prime." A dark smile seemed to spread across untextured form of coalesced darkness, these were the best sort, shortsighted but powerful, they would serve his will marverlously.

A/N: It's been awhile, hasn't it? Honestly, there is no real life excuse, no drive crash. I simply lost my muse some time ago, and only now am I trying to get it back. There's no telling how long it will be before another chapter comes your way, but I honestly hope for the answer to be soon.

Reiatsu Dageki – Spirit Pressure Strike – Borrowing from tai chi, this technique is mainly performed by novices of ki manipulation, the bodily motion is not truly necessary, but it helps as a visualization tool for the artist performing the manuever. This is a beginning stage to firing a ki blast, delivering the energy in a burst that comes from the fist.