Scrapyard: Ranma

by Krahae

Once more with feeling! False starts and failed ideas that never really caught; here's where I'll be putting the odd bits and pieces that I almost decided to continue, but not quite. Some of these may be revisited, but its unlikely. But not impossible. Mostly Ranma-centric.

5. Pandemonium

Warning: I'm not pulling any punches with these, as they're SCRAP FILES. This is my raw, personal edits and not screened for much other than my own inner grammar nazi. You can expect just about anything, and I know there are a few scenes of mature and violent content. Some of it harsh. So, be warned.

Premise: And here we begin my forays into a different kind of story, that's stuck. This has shades of what I'm currently working on, along with Stress Fracture, but for the moment, it stands unique and singular

—

Pandemonium

August, 2009.

My name is Ranma. I'm turning 18 this year, and I'm a... I was a martial artist. This is... well I don't know what it is, but I know what it isn't. It isn't a diary. A journal, maybe. Eh, whatever.

Someone told me once, that when you're confused, and not sure what's going on, that writing it down would help. I don't know what it's supposed to do for me, but I've not got a lot of other options. Heck, I haven't got a lot else other than this book, and the pencil in my hand right now, so... here goes.

I guess it started with Jusendo. I figured, once everything ended there, that was it you know. The End. I offed – well sorta, being a Phoenix and all he got better – the bad guy, saved the girl, and that was that. Only it wasn't. Not at all. Something happened up there, or maybe even a while back, that changed it all. Hell, maybe it was all wrong to begin with. I just don't know. What I do know about are consequences. Repercussions, I guess. That's... for another day. Not today.

I look back now and realize how much of a kid I am. How little I actually paid attention to things beyond my nose. I didn't see stuff right in front of me. Don't know what's going on half the time. I blame Pops, but sometimes I know it's just me. Trying to get along, trying to just be a normal teenager, in a normal world, despite knowing damn well I'm anything but, and it's anything but normal. Sure I want to be the best, but doesn't everyone? Pick something, I mean, and let that be what defines them? Yeah. But there's more I guess, now. More I was blind to see, back then. Now, still, sometimes.

What I was blind to? Happosai and Cologne are the best examples. People... normal people don't live to be that old. Not without something else going on. Magic and ki, discipline and rituals. It all adds up.

It all adds up...

(The penmanship is precise, like the one writing it paying too much attention to their actions. The characters are simple, lacking the usual shortcuts and signs of long-habit. -A.M.)

Ranma fidgeted where he sat, on the waxy, noisy sheet in the doctor's office. He felt lucky that things had worked out so that Tofu had come back to Nerima, just a few weeks after the mess that had been Jusendo. It was rare that anything got to him – outside of strange pressure points or Amazon tricks – so much that he couldn't just shrug it off, but when it did, he liked having someone he could trust to help.

Tofu was a big name, on a very, very short list.

"So, what's the verdict, doc?"

The well-mannered man looked up and spared his patient an assuring grin. "You know how this works, Ranma. I can't make a solid diagnosis without seeing both your forms." Indicating a nearby table and the glass of water on it, the man rose and moved behind a screen. "Let me know when you're ready."

Heaving a put-upon sigh, Ranma muttered his consent and crossed the room to the initiate the change. Most of the theatrics were just that, these recent days, habit that he – now she – was working out of slowly. It wasn't her fault that Genma was a jackass, or that her mother was... unbalanced sometimes. Though, once everything had settled down after saving her that day, Nodoka had been ecstatic to find she had a real bond to 'Ranko'.

Apparently, motherly instincts overrode the Contract, when reinforced by the option of an optional 'daughter'. They hadn't really talked about the agreement in depth yet, but the kind of look Nodoka got on her face whenever it was mentioned made Ranma worry less every day. Clearly, it bothered her as much as anyone else – though it confused the martial artist why her father seemed more hung up on it than anyone involved.

Shaking off her rambling thoughts, Ranma readjusted her brief hospital smock, wrinkling her nose cutely at how it left her back more or less exposed to the drafty air. She fidgeted anew at the reaction of the cold on her body, and the sharper sensations that the coarse cloth had on her responding skin. This was precisely why she wore silks so much – less friction, less distraction. Being a girl Ranma was getting used to, even enjoying at times not that she'd admit it. Having a girl's reactions... that was another story. "Ready, doc," she called out, preferring to get back to the exam, rather than mull over her body's quirks.

Tofu cleared the screen and paused, his customary smile going a bit brittle. "Ah, I see. I'll just need to do a few more tests, and then you can go."

"Eh?" Ranma blinked and tilted her head in confusion. That wasn't what she was expecting. He almost seemed... angry. "Somethin' up?"

Waving vaguely, the doctor shook his head, his typical expression returning. "No, nothing to concern yourself with, Ranma. Just noticed the change in your aura, you mentioned. It's much more concentrated in your female form."

Ranma considered that and shrugged. "Never noticed, really. Despite gettin' knocked into the pond each morning, I don't really fight as a girl much. Never enough to need the Soul of Ice anyway."

"I understand," Tofu replied, the light glancing from his glasses so that his eyes were obscured. "You said that the changes were most apparent with the Soul active. I just need you to begin the technique, while I inspect the flows of your ki."

She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something about the doctor's aura... no, it wasn't his ki that was nagging at her senses, but something else. Something about him was causing her danger-sense to flare up, and more than anything, that settled Ranma's mind. There was something wrong with her. Tofu was safe, for crying out loud. "Right, here I go," she declared, more determined than ever to get whatever was going wrong, fixed.

As the Soul of Ice began, Ranma immediately noted the difference, much like Tofu had. The reason she was here to begin with, was that something had gone wrong with her ki she believed. The last time she'd used the Soul in a fight – against Ryoga, though it was more a spar than a fight – it hadn't worked right. She – then a he – hadn't felt the emotional detachment and muting the Soul always brought on. At least, not to the degree the martial artist had expected. Instead, the ki flows worked the way they always had, if admittedly stronger. The ki cycled, countering what was being woven into a modification of the Hiryuu Shoten Ha, leaving Ranma confused that the emotions were still there.

Now, as a female and activating it, Ranma noted the severity of the difference. Her emotions weren't dampened at all, and her ki began whirling about her of its own accord. "What the heck?"

Tofu glanced up from the clipboard he was scratching notes on. "Hm? What is it? Describe it."

"It's not working – I mean it is, but," shaking her head to settle her thoughts, Ranma started over. "The Soul's active. I can tell. Ki flows around me are doin' what they do when it's working."

Nodding, the doctor sat, tucking his hands in his lap over the notes he was just taking. "Alright. What else can you tell me?"

Ranma probed herself with her ki, looking for things that were 'wrong'. It was the equivalent of glancing over someone being admitted to a hospital – you could get the obvious stuff, but it was beyond her to sense anything really detailed or specific. She'd done this as a male, but never thought to as a female – really, why would she? The curse wasn't affected, water still did its thing, and nothing appeared different in a mirror when she'd looked a few times. The quick and dirty scan left her shaken, this time, however. "What the...?"

"Ranma?"

"Aura's... wrong. Soul's up, sure, but it's... drawin' in ki? S'like someone took a spoon and stirred my ki-flows the wrong way-"

The sound of the clip on the doctor's board clacking loudly jerked Ranma from her introspection as well as broke her concentration, ending the Soul of Ice. "That's what I noted as well," Tofu commented as he stood. Blue eyes followed him, as he moved to place the tablet away in a drawer. "It seems your aura shifted somewhat, and that activating the Soul of Ice, as you call it, intensifies the effect. Perhaps the curse's magic has something to do with it, or any number of things that are all countering or reinforcing each other, but as a female, it's more apparent."

"My advice," Tofu continued, pulling his chair before a confused and unsure redhead. "Is to minimize your time as a female, until I contact some colleagues. Do you have a thermos?"

Faintly, Ranma nodded and idly pulled her hot-water thermos from her modest weapon-space. "Keep some on hand now, since I know how to do that."

Nodding, Tofu spared the girl a serious look. "Don't fight as a girl. Stay male as much as possible, and I'll come to sort this out soon. I need to contact a colleague to get some more data." Sparing the young woman before him a smile, he turned to collect his paperwork. "Get dressed, and head home. I'll be in touch."

Ranma did as she was asked, tipping a bit of heated water over her head to initiate the change first. Now male, Ranma tried to make sense over all the odd signals he'd noted, being a very good study in body language, as that was key to how his Art worked. It was why insults and goading were such big parts of the Saotome School – controlling your opponent's emotions let you control the flow of a fight. He'd trained for years, not really realizing it, to read and judge a person's body language as clear as if they'd spoken exactly what they were feeling, thinking, and planning. The problem was, Tofu had sent such unfamiliar signals that the martial artist started to think something was really wrong with himself.

Tofu felt... wrong, if there was a simple way to put it. Almost threatening, then clearly all but hostile once he'd changed gender. As he walked home to the Dojo, Ranma couldn't help but shake his head at the notions he was entertaining. "C'mon, it's Tofu. No way. The doc's a good guy, and there ain't nothing to worry about from him. Just proof my aura's all messed up – readin' people wrong and getting all worked up for nothin'."

Still, the memory of the doctor's smile haunted him. It never reached the man's eyes.

–

"...yes. I'll need backup for this one." The man paused, glancing down at the folder on his desk. The label held a familiar name. "Yes, even I need help now and then. When will you arrive?"

The speaker on the other side of the phone droned on for a moment, as Tofu took up the large, packed file folder and pulled out three sheets from various points. Those were placed in a different folder, along with the notes from earlier. Once that was done, he started feeding the other contents to a paper shredder. "Sooner would be best," he commented. "We don't want this one to fully wake up."

Once the contents were destroyed, Tofu turned and started leafing through his appointment planner. "Tomorrow night? I suppose, if you can't get here sooner." He marked two appointments that would need to be rescheduled. "That'll give me an opportunity to sort out the family as well. No, this one isn't a good option for a simple disappearance. Call it too high-profile if you want an explanation," the doctor offered.

Taking the medical record folio in hand, Ono dropped it into a waste basket near his desk. "Alright. I'll fax over the address, and meet you there tomorrow at six."

–

For all his worry on catching some obscure martial arts virus, or some kind of crazy ki-flu, Ranma was feeling rather upbeat and energetic, the next day at school. Having taken Tofu's recommendation to heart, the young man stayed that way – male – as much as possible. Though it required two refills of his thermos, the day was spent with a minimum of time as a redhead, which suited him just fine.

Being a girl wasn't so bad, but he could do without the kinds of stares he got. Really, was every guy at Furinkan a hormonal jerk? Did they just not get that even when he was a she, nothing upstairs changed? Shuddering, Ranma finished packing away his books, before walking over to the class he knew Hinako was teaching.

Halfway there, he was stopped by a curious fiancee, in the flavor of Akane. "Do you have detention or something?"

Ranma glared for a second at the assumption, then laughed quietly. "Nah, just checkin' on Hinako for a minute. She's supposed to help with more tutoring soon, and I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to pay her back for it."

Akane nodded, falling into step beside the taller boy. "More fighting fish?"

"Was thinking a few boxes of pocky this time." Seeing Akane's skeptical look, the pigtailed boy made some rather large motions with his hands. "Big boxes."

Chuckling, Akane admitted that would be a better payment as well. Hinako's sweet tooth was legendary. "Alright then, I'll leave you to your flirting."

"Hey," Ranma barked, though the smile was apparent. "You know I only flirt with your sisters."

Rolling her eyes, Akane punched him in the arm lightly. Lightly for Ranma, anyway. "Jerk. See you at dinner, then."

Smiling as he waved, Ranma heaved a relieved sigh. Things had been better, after the botched wedding, odd as that seemed. Having come so close to being married, it made the two of them really put their feelings under a microscope. What became clear, was that neither of them really felt quite that way for the other, though Ranma admitted he really did love Akane.

Was it romantic love, or the kind love one had for a sister or cousin, or even best friend? That Ranma didn't know. He didn't have enough examples in his life to understand it. Akane had a better idea of her own feelings, and for now, he'd respect her need for time. It wasn't like he was in a hurry, or anything, and for now, he was alright with them going on as good friends. If in the future they were pressured into getting married, and actually following through with it, they decided it would probably work out eventually, but for the time being... they weren't going to think on it.

Nabiki had proven really helpful, if confusing in that help, undermining their father's plans. That was someone else Ranma was picking up mixed signals from, though this time he was more wary. One bout of being Nabiki's fiance had been rough. A second one may just kill him, where even Saffron had failed.

A box of pocky – small variety – got him in Hinako's good graces, and the two chatted amicably for a few minutes, until they hammered out a rough schedule and plan. He'd expected her to have some students for detention or something, but instead found her idle and perusing a manga. Ranma kicked himself for not asking Akane to wait for him since it only took a few minutes, but figured this would work out just as well. If one of the rivals or fiancees ambushed him on the way home, at least she'd make it back with her classwork intact.

It was a shame no one really seemed to believe him when he'd explained that one time that a yeti-bull-crane-eel had eaten his homework. Wasn't his fault they didn't know that jerk Taro.

–

Ranma wanted to tell Akane about his plans with Hinako before he forgot in the constant whirl of strangeness that defined his life, and so headed straight for the repaired Dojo once he arrived home. What he found there wasn't Akane, but-

"Old Perv? What are you doing out here?"

The younger martial artist nearly fell over his own feet as the tiny figure turned around slowly, wearing an outfit more familiar on Hikaru Gosunkugi. Candles held in place with a headband, a scribed scroll in one hand, and a stick of incense in the other, the old man stood over a summoning circle surrounded by smaller stubs of candles. Of course, the circle was painted on a throw cloth, and the candles were leftover tea lights, most likely so he could hide the evidence quickly and not make a mess, thereby avoiding annoying Kasumi.

The eldest Tendo's good graces weren't what Ranma had in mind, currently, however. "You better not be tryin' to summon another demon, old man. Don't you remember what happened last time?"

"Ranma m'boy," the aged grandmaster muttered, looking the young man up and down warily. "So... er. Why aren't you a girl?"

The cursed youth sighed, looking to the main house for a moment. "Did Cologne hit you on the head too hard again or somethin'?" Snorting, the young man started walking toward the back porch, intent on not missing dinner. "Whatever, you old pervert. Just clean this crap up when you're done – and no demons!"

He had taken three steps when the grandmaster yelled out something that actually got his attention. "Ranma Saotome, by the power of your true name I bind you to this circle and my will! I summon you!"

"Uh... I'm right here, y'know," Ranma muttered over his shoulder, turning to face the old man once more. "No need to summon... wait a sec." Stomping back toward the shriveled old man, Ranma kicked him aside, staring down at the circle intently. There in the middle was a picture of his girl-side, and a pair of underwear in pink he'd worn – once, and only once! – to appease his mother's sense of propriety while out with her as Ranko. The pieces connected in Ranma's mind fairly quickly after that.

Turning angrily on the old master, Ranma's eyes crossed as a strip of paper was slapped onto his forehead. Reaching up, he pulled it off, recognizing it as one of the blessed talismans they'd picked up to keep the odd ghost or demon away from the property, at new years. Glaring at the old man, Ranma crumpled the paper in his fist, before pounding it down on top of the bald master's head. "What are you tryin' to do, old freak?"

"I thought for sure... I mean I know what I sensed," Happosai muttered, absently pulling out his pipe to send the young man pounding on his head for attention flying out the Dojo's door, toward the house. Grumbling, the ancient master packed up his materials by simply bundling up the cloth, while bounding over the property wall. "Maybe I need to use black lace, rather than cotton..."

Dusting himself off, Ranma was at least thankful he'd missed the koi pond. "Man, what a freak," the pigtailed youth groused, tucking his disquiet over the incident into the back of his mind. He had to admit, though, with everything going on recently it made for a lot of strange. Enough to make up for how normal things had been, recently, Ranma realized with a slow grin. "Hmm. Good. Been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe now I can stop bein' so paranoid."

"Oh, I don't know about that," a voice chimed in, from just atop the wall nearby.

–

Thanks to being who he was, and having the family he did, Ranma had run across a broad spectrum of people in his life. Monks and shrine maidens, ghosts, demons, masters of obscure things it would take more than his own lifetime to learn, and fools who could do the impossible, just by will. The woman on the wall reminded him of another class of people he'd run across in his travels.

Demon hunters.

The woman, like himself, was Japanese by appearance, though the ensemble sent faint Amazon alarms going off in the martial artist's head. She was dressed in a form-fitting but simple dress, that ran to mid-thigh, with high slits for mobility. Above the hips, she had a pair of wickedly curved blades in simple leather sheathes, belted in place with a light harness of sorts that had straps to keep them from clattering about or getting in the way. Those straps circled her thighs, accenting the shortness of her dress well. Without the swords, the woman could have been going out on a date to a fancy restaurant.

"Ayaka, please," a familiar voice called out from the darkness. "Not like this."

"Tofu?" Ranma peered up at the man who lighted beside the unusually-dressed woman, "Didn't expect to see you till tomorrow at the soonest. Who's your friend?"

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, the doctor replied, "This... this is my associate Ayaka. She's more knowledgeable about your condition than I am, so it would be best if you two discussed things. On a walk. Yes, go for a walk and discuss things."

The sound of the porch door opening seemed to make the good doctor wilt in on himself slightly, and his companion continued their explanation. "Yeah. He's going to stay here and break the bad news to your family," she offered with a roll of her eyes.

Nabiki, not understanding the situation the way Ranma was beginning to, missed the young man's posture falling into something more familiar to his School of the Art. If she had noted it, the middle Tendo would have likely not made the quip she did, working she thought to both her and the troubled pair of Ranma and Akane's advantage. No one would have faulted her, since the Saotome branch's methods taught deception as much as adaptability, but the comment had the potential to spark more trouble than it had to avoid. "Hey, buddy-boy. This another fiancee?"

Ayaka's face twisted into a mask of disgust, while her hand strayed to the hilt of a blade. She spit on the ground, before speaking, "Not a chance, kid. Now all you run along with Tofu while I deal with this little problem."

"So your doctor friend here comes to house calls with swords," Ranma broke in, breaking the fragile tableau easily. "Not that I haven't seen demon hunters before. The old letch just tried to summon me with a circle not five minutes ago, and when I was in the clinic, you were actin' odd," the young man reasoned out loud, his mind reaching a conclusion easy enough. "Why didn't you just say something, Tofu. I trusted you."

"Oh for the love of," the woman named Ayaka muttered, before sparing the doctor beside her a terse look. "Whatever, the kid's figured it out so no more pussy-footing around." Drawing a blade and pointing it at the pigtailed youth, she continued, "Boy over there's a demon – or will be soon. He's been 'infected' says Tofu, and it's changing him. My family's been charged for generations by the Imperial line to destroy demons for the peace of Japan." Returning her gaze to the baffled crowd that had gathered, including both elder Saotomes, all three Tendo sisters, and one weeping Tendo patriarch, the woman stalled slightly, seeing only mild curiosity there instead of shock or horror. "Wha-what?"

"It would explain a lot," Kasumi politely replied into the uncomfortable silence. "I mean, he's so rigidly bound to his agreements. I hear demons are very literal with their promises."

"What? I ain't no..."

Genma rubbed at his chin lightly. "Perhaps that one engagement to that blue-skinned man wasn't such a good idea. He did mention needing to adjust the boy somehow... But that banquet," he trailed off, as memories of the biggest feast he'd ever seen replaced his current train of thought – unfortunately obscuring the awareness of his wife glaring daggers at him.

"Huh? What'd you do to me, stupid old..."

From Genma's other side – the one not occupied by steadily increasing homicidal intent – Soun whined into his sleeve, "Oooh, my poor little girl. Doomed to a life of being ravaged by a hentai demon!"

"Where do you get off calling me that, you...!"

Folding her arms before her, Akane leveled a glare at the young man. "I always knew you cheated that first time!" The two blinked at each other a moment, before Akane sheepishly laughed. "Er, sorry. Got caught up in the moment, there."

"Not a problem..."

"So, you're an agent of hell now?" Nabiki rolled her eyes, before leveling a droll glare at the woman on the wall. "Please. Buddy-boy here's about as evil as my sock. I think you've got your wires crossed – but by all means, indulge in some property damage while you're here." The shark-like grin she leveled at the two spoke volumes about her intent, backed up by her words a moment later. "I'll be sure to give you 'doctor's' rates, for the repair bill in fact."

"It ain't gonna get to that..."

Tofu cleared his throat, bringing the muttering to a close. "I wasn't mistaken when I called Ayaka for help. Ranma's aura is clearly shifting into the demonic, which means his soul is changing – and that is permanent. I don't know if it's a result of the things that he went through in Jusendo, or through his life, or just the act of a greater demonic force against him. The bottom line is, and I'm sorry to be the one to say this, but isn't something that can be fixed... and there's only one solution."

Eyes hard, Ranma tilted his neck sharply to loosen it, the cracking of joints loud in the sudden silence. "So. Doctor's orders, are to lay down and die, huh?"

"I'm sorry, Ranma, but-"

"Nah, you're not sorry," the martial artist quipped, cutting the tired-looking man off. The lightness of his voice was countered by the stark contrast of his tensed muscles. "But you're gonna be."

Apparently tired of all the talk, Ayaka lunged for the boy with one sword drawn and death in her eyes. To many of those present, the act had been little more than a blur – a hint of motion, and the absence of the woman from where she'd stood. To Ranma, however, Ayaka would have saved herself the trouble by just walking up to him. Much like a previous Amazon who underestimated him, Ranma simply kicked the sword up and out of her hand, much to the woman's shock. "What, you expect me to let you just come up over here and lop off my head? Feh, demon hunters," he quipped, dropping his weight back onto the same foot that removed the woman's weapon. "Don't make 'em like they used to."

From that point on, however, things got interesting. Discarding her surprise at the boy's skill, Ayaka spun on the foot she'd landed on, lashing out with a vicious kick that should have sent the boy rocketing into the wall a few dozen feet away. Ranma simply swayed out of the way, flowing like water around the woman's attack. Again and again, be it from foot or fist, the woman failed to make contact, and the frustration was beginning to tell on her. "As good as he warned," she remarked, flipping back and out of range for a moment, to regain her wind. "I wasn't thinking he was serious. Yeah, we definitely can't let you live."

"Now hold on a minute-" Akane tried to break in, only to cringe and duck at the loud report that echoed around the courtyard.

Ranma's face was tilted up and at an angle, facing the sky, while one storm-gray eye regarded the demon hunter with nothing but cold calculation. As his head tilted back down so he faced the woman directly, the line cut across his cheek began to bleed slowly. "Guns, huh? Not too traditional are ya?"

Ayaka didn't let the sudden spike of fear show in her face. This boy – who wasn't even using demonic power! – had all-but dodged a bullet. She'd masked the act of reaching for the gun strapped onto her back with her disengage, but the speed of her draw and fire should have meant his death. Devoted to her attack now, she took up an unfamiliar posture – gun-wielding hand up at shoulder level, pointed at a low but shallow angle with the line of her vision, while her off-hand drew the matching sword to the one on the ground. That blade was flipped into a reverse hold, then brought up while her stance loosely mimicked that of a boxer.

Analyzing the stance, Ranma assumed that the woman had trained to use the gun as part of her form. This would complicate things. Not wanting to deal with her once she'd recovered her balance fully, he rushed the demon hunter with a feinted kick, that spun into a low backfist to the gut.

He had to sacrifice his balance and roll to avoid getting his hand removed, as she brought the sword up for an underhanded block. That turned into a hurried spin and kip-up as the gun rang out again, kicking up a cloud of displaced dirt and grass where his head had been. As he moved to reengage the woman, hopefully too close for her to use her weapon, Ranma's danger-sense screamed through him. Stepping close and pulling the woman's weapon down, he winced hard as the report rang out at point-blank range, his hip screaming at him.

Ayaka smirked as blood began soaking the black silk pants the youth wore. "Tofu was right. Stupidly noble."

Ranma glanced behind him, where the woman's shot would have gone had he not taken the hit himself. His mother looked back, wide-eyed and restrained by Genma's large arms.

"Ayaka!" Tofu's face was a study of outrage. "That's going too far!"

The flat glare the woman turned on the doctor stalled his rage. "Then stop standing there, and do your sworn duty. Help me kill this monster."

Cries from the gathered for the woman to stop were ignored of course, and it was all that Soun and Genma could do to keep the girls from joining the melee. Unlike them, it wasn't anger or sadness that settled in Ranma's gut when the man donned a pair of reinforced gloves, but cold determination. This man, a man he'd trusted – that the Tendos trusted! – brought this woman here. Someone that had aimed a gun at his mother. To say Tofu's name went on another list from the one he'd recently been on would be an understatement, but this Ayaka chick? "Lady. You ain't walking out of here."

Her response was to begin the deadly weave of gun and sword again, pushing Ranma to defend not just himself but his family and the Tendos, while Tofu joined, adding his pressure-point attacks aided by the reinforced gloves. Having never been able to detect the man before for whatever reason, Ranma found his attention split heavily, as all his mundane senses worked to track Tofu, while he relied on ki for Ayaka.

Allowing the woman's blade to pass over his head, Ranma let himself fully focus on his opponents. Ayaka's style seemed clear, once she had a gun in hand. He was confused initially, when her form seemed lacking, like she was missing something. That something roared over his head, as a forearm block broke her aim. He paid for it as Tofu struck at his side, numbness spreading along his left flank. Rolling away from Ayaka while maneuvering Tofu between the demon hunter and his family, Ranma countered the Shiatsu strike by using his own limited knowledge of pressure points. The gunshot earlier was slowing him down, though, and against two skilled opponents, he was beginning to worry. Rolling away from another boxed-in position, his escape was short-lived, as Tofu moved to flank him once more while Ayaka closed in to press her attack again.

Feeling less secure in his defenses and still wary, Ranma began to feel out those of his sudden opponents. Behind her gun, Ayaka worked her defense by using the sword to deflect attacks, clearly used being aggressive even when guarding herself against her foes. Each block was razor-edged, or backed by a spin that would bring her gun back to bear quickly for another shot. He wondered at the capacity of her gun's clip, till he noted during one the woman's spinning disengages how she dropped and reloaded another from a supply on the backside of a sword sheathe.

Tofu's style was heavily focused on Shiatsu to disable, counter, and deflect, made clear every time Ranma tried to respond the man's attacks, or exploit a break in his guard. Most of those holes were feints, attempts to draw Ranma's arms into reach so that the man could neutralize part of Ranma's arsenal. Attacks were made while his attention was elsewhere, usually deflecting more shots fired near the Saotomes or Tendos, or at himself. He was beginning to see through the man's actions to the roots of his style and form, when the battle drastically changed.

Two shots blazed past Ranma; one he took as a grazing hit along his shoulder to keep Tofu in his vision, while the other rebounded off the rock wall. The sound of a ricochet made his stomach turn to ice.

"Auntie!"

"Mrs. Saotome!"

Woodenly, Ranma ignored the melee for a critical moment to turn his head. There, cradled in Genma's arms lay his mother, blood welling from a wound across her temple as the man gently tried to check her pulse. His distraction cost him, as the young man curved around a sword-slash to his gut that he couldn't wholly dodge.

"Ranma!"

Akane's strident scream of his name was the last thing Ranma recalled, before the force of the blow and his partial dodge threw him into the Tendo's koi pond.

–

He was being sloppy. Treating Tofu and that Ayaka woman like the other fighters in Nerima and abroad. Treating them like martial artists, not the killers they'd proclaimed themselves to be. He'd discarded the gun as a real threat, till he'd seen it pointed at the Tendos; at his family. The few hits he'd taken didn't mean anything – Ranma knew he'd bounced back from worse. Sword cuts, having knives stabbed through muscle and bone, fire, ice, and enough raw ki to flatten a city block.

A couple of demon hunters, even if one had been a trusted friend he'd asked for help not a day before, shouldn't have been a problem. Or even a challenge.

In that moment where the familiar shift of the curse washed over him, Ranma knew that it wasn't about skill or power, but emotion. He'd – she'd – been off-center since the changes had begun. Emotions were running higher, reactions stronger. In a moment of clarity something became clear, as the water closed over her. She was glad that the situation between herself and Akane had gotten better, stabilized. It would have been bad, had things exploded between them with her emotions being so hard to control, with the loss of the Soul's calming influence.

Demon.

The idea, not the word, caused a ripple to follow the change. Was that what this feeling was? Some supposed demonic influence? Like she didn't have enough to worry about already. Rather than turn her ki against itself as she'd been doing since the slight changes and disturbing wrongness had begun, Ranma embraced it – fed it, and wound it about herself like some kind of oily cloak. Her aura responded almost hungrily, and she could feel the reaction cascade beyond her control suddenly. Rather than feed slowly off her own ki, it started to spiral outward, drawing life and energy from everything around her. Koi in the pond grew sluggish and died, while the water lost whatever ambient, natural ki it held.

Maybe they were right, Ranma admitted as the sudden spike of energy died off, along with the agonizing pain that had wracked her from the stomach wound. A wound she knew was no longer there. Maybe she was a demon, and that's what all this had been about. Her changing, caused by something in the past. Ranma laughed, the bubbles from the fleeing air reflecting the last of the sunset from above the small pond. Jusenkyo, the Phoenix Pill, her training, Happosai, ki, magic, Jusendo... who knew what would happen to someone, exposed to all that? Maybe she did, now.

Whatever. She was the heir to the Anything Goes School. Adaptation, she could do. Adapt or die? Easy question to answer.

–

It was quickly becoming clear that the demon hunters were going to have to deal with the combined Tendo and Saotome families as well, after the glancing hit to Nodoka and Ranma's bloody disappearance into the koi pond. Tofu looked like all he wanted to do was curl up under a rock, with the look Kasumi was sending him, much less the other Tendo girls, while Ayaka simply retrieved her weapons and stalked closer to the koi pond to ensure the kill.

She paused, then turned to shout a warning as the entire pond shot upward in a fountain of steam, revealing a very different, very pissed off Ranma Saotome.

Blue eyes, red hair, and a furious gritting of teeth met the view of those nearby, as the petite form stalked out of the falling mist she'd caused. The red silks that had made up the martial artist's jacket were ripped below the ribs, where Ayaka had scored her hit, while below that the black pants that usually made up the rest of the cursed-boy's ensemble were barely enough to maintain any sense of decency. The reason was clear, as Ranma stalked forward, her form seeming to shift and flux constantly, until it came to a kind of equilibrium. Before it had, there was a distinct change in the legs, looking more like an animals with how the joints were settled. Claws became fingers, then shifted in a haze between each extreme before settling into slightly elongated nails. Her jaw cracked and gaped, accommodating a massive maw of razor-sharp teeth before the redhead seemed to yawn, the impressive display of fangs reduced to a more modest sharpening of her own mostly-normal smirk.

For a moment it seemed Ranma was back to herself, though the illusion was short-lived. That illusion was shattered when a shudder ran along her slight form, as she curled in on herself for a moment, before screaming as her arms were thrown back with the force of it. A spray of blood and the sound of ripping silk preceded the wet snap and crackle of bones shifting and reforming, while between them leathery membranes snapped like flags in a stiff wind. As the leathern pinions flexed behind her, Ranma's glare lit nearly incandescent as she fixed it on the woman before her, who was already reaching for her weapons.

"Round two," the redhead growled, before blurring and barreling into the woman, sending them both through the rock wall nearby and into the street.

–

"That... that was Ranma?"

Tofu looked up at Kasumi's unsteady question, his eyes haunted. "This wasn't how things were supposed to go..."

Long-passed her crush from years before, Akane had no problem grabbing the doctor's collar, bringing him down to her level. "You bastard! I don't care what you think Ranma is, do you think we'll let you get away with this?"

Grimacing, the bespectacled man took the young woman's wrist between two fingers for a moment, causing her hand to go numb. "You don't understand-"

"Then make us understand." Nabiki's tone was icy, but she backed it up well enough. Never being interested in the Art like Akane or Ranma, Nabiki was however an opportunist. So, when Ayaka's gun was knocked out of her hand by Ranma's charge, the middle Tendo wasted no time in picking it up, in case she had to defend her family. Being an opportunist left more open doors than being a martial artist. Seeing the armed Tendo bearing down on him with a steady hand, the older man relaxed, putting his hands up slightly. "Go on, Ono. Tell us."

Seemingly resigned already to do just that, Tofu accepted the order. As he slumped to the ground and pulled off a glove, he sighed. "There have always been demons. Or, to be blunt, things beyond human.

"Humans often don't care, not about the source of the difference – the difference is enough. Something strange. Something frightening... the nature of things doesn't matter so much, as our perceptions. And so, there are demons."

Nabiki's hand shifted, and the distinct click of a safety being slid from on, to off and back again was clear. "That's very philosophical and all, but what the hell has that to do with Ranma?"

Tofu met the girl's eyes directly as he spoke. "We don't know why they appear. Why sometimes people change. Some think it's all just an illusion, when people become demons – that they always were that way, hiding, waiting to strike. Manipulating others from the cover of their loved one's form." Akane snorted, her opinion on Ranma doing such a thing clear. Continuing, Tofu ignored her, "Some think that there are other worlds, beside this one. Cut away by some barrier, and that's where demons come from. Slipping through the cracks, slipping inside people and things."

"What do you believe, doctor?"

Laughing quietly, Tofu slid his glasses back in place slowly. "Me? I suppose neither of those. Demons are just like humans, only different, like I said." Removing his other glove, the bespectacled man leaned back against the Dojo, ignoring the weapon trained on him by Nabiki, and the wary glance of Genma. "They aren't so different, really. They feel, they have desires, they protect. They can be loyal and honorable, or vicious killers, just like us. Humans and demons have existed side by side since there was memory. Maybe they're just different sides of a coin.

"But make no mistake, they are dangerous," the doctor warned, reaching up to rub idly at the bridge of his nose. "Their aura is what sets them apart. Their ki, you could say. Something about it works differently than what's natural, the kinds that surround things of this world alone. They stop being able to make their own, and start drawing in the life they need from around them. Simple demons don't understand it, and go berserk, killing and feeding on everything and everyone around them."

The man laughed mirthlessly at the dawning realizations on the faces before him. "Ranma won't do that. What a massacre that would be, with his appetite!"

Shuddering, Akane looked away. "Don't make jokes like that. It's morbid."

"Sorry," Tofu offered, sounding anything but sincere. "But no, Ranma's too in-tune with his ki and how it works. But he will still hunger, because now that this world rejects him. He cannot make his own. He will hunger. He will feed. He will kill."

Akane's question was quiet. "What made Ranma... what changed him."

"Could have been the Neko-ken. Humans becoming demons from such things are well noted." No one paid attention to Genma's sudden bout of coughing. "It could have been Jusenkyo. Changing magics are terrible, risky things. It could have been anything Ranma's done, come in contact with, or risked. Even fighting as hard as he does could do it, according to what we know. Anything that defies the natural has a risk of causing that taint to spread. Does it always? Of course not. But this is Ranma, we're talking about.

"I don't think any one thing caused it, but more that it was due to everything, perhaps. Jusendo seemed to have been the keystone, however. Perhaps the changing waters became the catalyst." Shrugging finally, the doctor heaved another sigh. "We'll never know. There's no way to tell, and after tonight, no way to find out. Ranma has to leave."

For the first time since the fighting began, Genma spoke. "You set this up, to let him escape."

Tofu nodded silently. "He can't know. If he wants to survive, he'll have to leave, thinking he's doing the right thing. That – his honor and duty – will keep him away, and safe. It was only luck that brought me back here, in time to catch this before someone else did, but the cost was the loss of his ties here. Something he can't have if he wants to survive."

Clearly conflicted, Akane looked between the two men, "Why did you bring that woman, then? Why bring someone who could hurt or kill him when you're trying to help?"

"I called Ayaka because I had to. I called Ayaka, because I knew she wouldn't be enough."

–

"Heh," the demon hunter muttered, before spitting bloodily. "So you woke up. Told that spineless sap we should have done you quick, but does he listen? Nooo," she continued to complain, in such a way that Ranma couldn't tell if it was at her, or Tofu, or the world in general. "Damned doctors. Just too bad we need them to track freaks like you down easier."

Ranma paced the distance she was keeping from the woman with measured steps, her bare feet whispering against the pavement. More loudly, her wings tested the air idly, as if moving of their own accord at times. The circular path she walked kept the woman at its center wary, watching and adjusting her position constantly

"I suppose that I can't argue the point," Ranma muttered, though it was loud enough to carry. "Pretty clear now you two were right. I guess Tofu saw this coming, somehow."

Ayaka laughed, face screwed up in distaste. "Don't fish for information with me, freak. I'm not the type," emphasizing her point, the woman tapped out two shots from another pistol, eyes narrowing at the results.

Having found the measure of the demon hunter's style, Ranma easily ducked and sidestepped the two bullets, her wings folding back severely to lessen their profile and her own by reflex. As the reports rang out down the street, Ranma could hear people making alarmed noises at what they saw, and more than a few calls for the police to be alerted – which suited her fine. The grin she leveled at the wary hunter never reached her eyes, and seemed to contain more teeth than should have been possible. "A fighter. Sure, I respect that."

"Then stop screwing around, an-" that was as far as the woman got, before she had to duck and twist to keep her head attached, as the demon's fist parted the air with an audible shearing. Eyes wide and breath coming in leaping gasps from her surprise, the demon hunter worked to keep the newly-Awakened demon in her sight.

It shouldn't be possible, Ayaka thought to herself as she rolled away from an axe kick that would have probably caved in her rib cage after obliterating her collarbone, only to catch a spinning heel to the gut. Retching hollowly, she suddenly forgot about the pain in her stomach, as a falling elbow took her across the temple, throwing her to the ground in a groaning heap.

'New' demons shouldn't be this strong, this fast, a stubbornly persistent part of her mind continued to prattle on. Sure, the boy had been skilled before the change, but this kind of increase... it should have been impossible. The change from Awakening should have thrown him into chaos, with the new form, reflexes, senses – not made him a better martial artist! Something about the whole thing wasn't right, Ayaka realized.

She considered her luck mixed, as the demon kicked her off the ground where she'd fallen, giving her some 'help' back onto her feet. The impact with the wall that let her slide to them, however, she could have done without. Getting her head on strait, Ayaka reminded herself that she'd been born to kill things just like this – she wouldn't lose here.

"Got your head back in the fight?" Ranma taunted, noting the woman wasn't just laying around like a punching bag with its tether cut anymore. Maybe she'd come on too strong out of the corner, the redhead mused. The problem was that the whole thing stunk – badly – and she wanted it over with so she could get answers. Answers that wouldn't be coming from the woman before her, or the betrayer doctor, the redhead admitted to herself. No... she'd need to find others, for what she needed to know, but that would take time, and a low profile – two things she didn't have at the moment. Fighting in the street with wings out behind her like banners screaming "Demon here!" while laying a classic beat-down on some wannabe demon hunter, really did nothing for her. Ranma realized there wasn't any time left to fight with the woman, despite her new-found wind. This had to end.

Fast shifted into an impossible blur, as the demonic redhead left pockmarks in the pavement behind her, with the force of her feet hitting the ground. Ayaka had just enough time to curse, before the wall where her head had been exploded into debris and crushed mortar. Instinct and long practice let her avoid the body-blow that followed, but her luck ended after that, as a second high strike – was that a foot or fist? She couldn't tell – pulverized her shoulder and left it feeling like so much shattered rock, grinding under her skin. Mercifully the pain hadn't come yet, since she doubted there was time for it with this opponent.

Rolling to the side despite her disorientation and the further damage it would do, she slapped her palm down on a weapon and come up with it to bear. As she stared down the iron sights of her pistol into a slightly elongated pupil not three meters away, Ayaka began to realize just how bad this was going. Tofu should have called for a full hunter team, not just backup. "How... how the fuck can you do this? That body, you're a martial artist. How the fuck can you fight this well after the change?"

Ayaka couldn't so much see as feel the slow smile, below that steady, unblinking eye – steadier than her hand, anyway. "That... is a secret."

The shot rang, and the muzzle barked fire but there was no petite redheaded demon for the bullet to meet. There was only surprise in Ayaka's widened eyes, as almost gently, Ranma cradled the woman's chin in her hand, from where she'd moved. There behind the bedraggled and bleeding hunter, the tiny form of Ranma Saotome stood. One arm was wrapped around the wide-eyed woman's shoulders, as if holding her in an impromptu embrace, while the other had come to rest with the palm against the peak of the woman's chin. There was a whisper, and a responding, muffled negative from the hunter, before Ranma nodded once, her forehead leaning against the taller woman's neck, her breasts pressed against her back to complete the mirage of sudden intimacy. The afterimage from her rapid relocation faded, just as there was a sudden jerk and crackle from the entwined pair, leaving the surreal image complete.

Ranma dropped the woman's body, closing her eyes slowly, as she considered what she had to do. "Gotta get away," she muttered, her lips peeling back in a pained grimace, at what that meant. How final it would have to be. "God... why now? Why?! Things were just gettin' better, finally."

Fed up, furious, and having no one left to ask, she roared her question to the skies. "What the fuck is your problem with me?! Why can't you leave me the hell alone?!"

Whatever god or goddess she'd aimed the question at, had no intention on answering it seemed. Tears sliding down her face from a combination of pain, shame, anger, and loss, Ranma lunged for a nearby roof. Lighting, she recalled her wings, and only barely restrained herself from reaching back to rip the pinions out from the root.

"One thing at a time," she snarled unsteadily, turning toward the south, as she leapt from roof to roof, little more than a blur.

–

September, 2009.

Three months since leaving Nerima. One, since my last entry. I kinda suck at this journal thing, huh?

Well, I'm back. To writing, I mean. I didn't go anywhere but... why the hell am I trying to explain this to myself? I must be going nuts. So, that journal idea? Not something I recall a lot, so entries may be spotty. Eh, whatever.

Things are going ok. I suppose it could be worse. I mean, really.

I've got a job – two really if I think about it – a place to stay, some people I can call friends with a little bit of a stretch, hell I'm even going to school again...

Yeah. Paranoia setting in. Ranma Saotome doesn't get whole months of nothing bad happening. Hell, I don't usually get a day without some jackass or freak showing up. But I'm not in Nerima now. Maybe that's got something to do with it. Who knows?

Speaking of jobs, this contract work I got approached for recently's been on my mind. It's not like I need an excuse to go out and take down demons in the area – honestly, it's all self-preservation. The less of that kind of attention where I'm at, the less hunters to deal with later. Ironic, yeah? Me out there taking out my own kind, supposedly... eh. I don't see it like that. I'm not like them. Not a monster. I'm not.

I'm Not.

Anyway... the problem with it isn't so much what I'm doing, but how. My contact always knows where they'll be. It's getting to the point where I can tell, too, but this is starting to smell like either a setup, or something else.

Next time I see her, I'm going to find out.

Why do I think it's a setup? Both times, I just made it out of the area before some cheerleading troupe packing enough magical firepower to level a city shows up and starts monologuing. Yeah, I know who the Senshi are, but damn. Really? I thought that was... well some kinda rumor to dis the local heroes. Someone's always got it out for the good guys – I mean look at how Ryoga and me were! But yeah. It's true. Too bad I can't go collect on that bet with Akane about if the rumor around those speeches was truth or not...

So I get the hell out, because I don't wanna get into a scrap with another branch of demon hunters – two families pissed at me is enough, thanks! – and this lot with the power to back it up. Hey, I'd still wipe the floor with them, but why make enemies for no reason? But, this is why I'm wary, and going to find out more about my mysterious benefactor. That's two out of two jobs that ended up with me just getting out before the skirt-squad arrived.

Too bad, really. I kinda like Setsuna. Lady's got a wicked sense of humor, and I've got a hunch she can fight. Too bad it'd never work out – she's kinda hot.

(Dating matches the entry, as well as the referenced indexes of paradimensional events, resulting in non-native entity incursions. Prior scanner readings verified by the MC all match. It can be inferred this Ranma Saotome was responsible for the later preemptive strikes as well. -A.M.)

–

Stretching catlike with a cavernous yawn despite it being just passed midday, Ranma Saotome adjusted her earphones, drowning out the organic buzz of the Roppongi bar she was currently seated in with music from the small MP3 player sitting on the table before her. The motion reflected in a nearby mirror, and the redheaded young woman spared her image a wry look.

The last three months had been a time of upheaval in her suddenly hectic life, and the young woman she saw looking back at her reflected that idea easily. Gone were the Chinese silks – understatement, really, considering there was little left of them after that night – and in their place a button-down shirt, girl's school uniform skirt, and zipped hoodie rested. Though they weren't really to her taste, the clothes were simple, functional, and managed to do something vital to her current situation.

They weren't the sort of thing Ranma would wear.

Much of her current life was defined by that simple idea, all for the purpose of protecting the family she left behind, by disappearing off the map. Ranma didn't know how much of what had been said between herself and Ayaka had been truth or just battle-chatter, but she wasn't going to risk them, over her own stubbornness and refusal to accept the situation. The woman had sealed her fate by threatening her family. Ranma wouldn't let it come to that.

She still didn't accept the situation, despite three months of dealing with it, however. Somewhere, there was a cure – not just for the curse, but for the demonic taint she carried. Until she found it, Ranma resisted the siren-call to go 'home', knowing that if she did, there would be hunters waiting to spring their trap. Two more incidents involving her sloppiness in maintaining her cover had proven that Ayaka was – if anything – conservative when it came to how demon hunters behaved. She still had the residual aches from being impaled on a sword and blasted into a crater from the last two families she'd tripped on, Ranma reminded herself. Collateral damage had never been a real concern in Nerima, but these people made even Ryoga look tame in comparison.

Besides, she refused to let the battle come back home, after what had happened to her mother. Nodoka had made a full recovery... but the fact remained, she might not have.

Clothes weren't the only change, of course. Spending most of her time as a girl had been a gamble, but it had paid off. Most of the information she'd gleaned spying on and eavesdropping on the few hunter groups she'd ran afoul of and didn't have to fight pointed to her birth form being the 'Ranma' that was to be targeted. What confused the martial artist was that her cursed form wasn't mentioned, despite all that had happened during the night of her departure from Nerima.

Somewhat naïve and socially inept she may be, Ranma wasn't an idiot. Something was wrong with that, but in her current situation, there wasn't much she could do about it, other than take it as it was – a silver lining in a rather stormy sky.

She waved at the bar manager as he motioned to the clock, then held up his hand, four fingers extended. "Shift starts in four hours," she murmured, sighing quietly. "Wonder if I'll have time to finish my math homework."

School was a necessary part of her camouflage, despite how annoying it was to not only go back to another school as a stranger, but do so as a girl. "Though," she admitted darkly, "it may not matter much soon, with how things were working out." She was after all, hanging out in a bar, on a school day, skipping class.

The reason why, Ranma noted with a slight, devious smile, just walked in the door. She didn't see her, so much as felt her, through the new senses that came along with the unwelcome change she'd gone through. Despite that, Ranma's eyes snapped to the woman, picking her out easily in the crowd due to a number of factors. For one, the tall, dusky-skinned woman cut a rather striking figure in her suit jacket and narrow skirt – not the kind of attire that was worn often by those that frequented this part of town. The emerald-green hair and deep red eyes didn't lessen the effect, setting the woman apart further, though Ranma found it odd to imagine the woman with anything but those two features, the one time she'd tried to reason out if they were fake or not. Nothing else just seemed to fit.

Above and beyond it all, however, were two things Ranma felt fairly certain only she herself would notice about the woman, out of all those in the bar. Where most people in that kind of suit moved with a self-aware sense of personal worth, there was no substitute for the real thing – confidence and ability. This woman had them, and knew it, and it came through in her walk. "More of a sway," Ranma corrected herself, quietly enjoying the display.

The other point was less easy to put to words, as the redheaded martial artist didn't have words for it. It was like a low sound, or faint scent, or subtle glow, or even the shift of ki from something moving it though their body – but none of those, in actuality. There was no word for the new sense she had that the woman registered on, but it was definitely there, clear and resonant, for lack of a better way to describe it. She imagined that had she been blind, deaf, and with her nose plugged, she could still zero in on the woman from across the room with no trouble at all.

As she had the first time she'd met the woman, Ranma stifled the sudden spike of attraction that surged through her system. Oh yes, the woman was attractive, and then some. Having been forced to restrain herself for years from even so much as reacting to the opposite sex, Ranma was having more than a little trouble recently, now that all bets were off. Cursing her traitorous libido, she recalled something she wanted to try, at their next meeting before being seen, and focused on that rather than the appealing view of skin, afforded by the woman's skirt. Concentrating a moment, while drawing the newspaper she's been reading earlier up before her, Ranma tucked her aura about herself tightly, fading from perception like morning mist.

She noted the change in her benefactor's gait immediately, the slight hesitation as clear to her as any neon sign. This one said in bold letters, "I just lost track of something I've been focusing on." Ranma had though about it some, after the last two meetings, and decided to test the woman on a hunch she had. That reaction seemed to back up her concerns, easily enough. Whoever this woman was, she could sense the particular something about Ranma that made her a demon, just as easily as she could track that particular something that set her apart as well.

Such a thing almost guaranteed that the woman was a demon hunter, of some kind. It made her infinitely more dangerous than the usual hunter, however, as she wasn't acting like one.

Rather than bolt assuming her cover was blown and the other meetings were just some kind of elaborate set up, Ranma sat and watched the leggy woman approach her table, eyes never lighting on her for more than the moment required to dismiss her cloaked presence. Once she was close enough, Ranma kicked the chair across from her lightly, causing the feet to bark against the wooden floor noisy. At the same time, she dropped the Umisenken, suddenly 'reappearing' where she'd been all that time. "Hey. Take a load off," she offered amicably enough.

The woman's reaction was telling, and Ranma stifled a smirk at how easy it had been to get one. She watched as her second employer's posture shifted almost imperceptibly, but it was definitely there. Defensive. Ready for some attack. Her right hand also tucked behind her, a move Ranma knew could be the prelude to pulling anything from a gun, to a sword, to a shoulder-mounted RPG launcher out of supposedly nowhere.

That one old demon hunter woman taught her a fear of ki-storage that Mousse never managed, with that one.

Only after the redhead's voice had chimed out did the woman who called herself Setsuna relax slightly, though the wary tension in her eyes remained. "Hello, Maya. That was a neat trick."

Ranma rolled with the use of her assumed name easily, having picked it out herself. "Learned it from a trained bear, at a circus," she quipped, her grin curving up into a smirk at those words. "Fancy meeting you here – if I wasn't skipping school, you'd have missed me."

"Oh, not so much a coincidence," Setsuna assured. "I'm in a unique position to know when our students go missing."

Ranma laughed at that, nodding. "True enough, I suppose. I do have an image to maintain, sadly."

The emerald-haired woman favored Ranma with a faint smile. "If your grades didn't say otherwise, I'd simply think you a delinquent. Though, these rumors I hear of you taking up the role as Sukeban for JMHS do make me wonder."

Tugging at her braid – an action that was quickly becoming habit – the younger woman laughed somewhat nervously. "Ah, well. The other girls, some of the rougher ones, seem to think I have some kinda experience leading gangs and all... not much I can do about it. If I try and get them to drop it, it turns into a fight, and I'm right back where I started. Better to just let them have their way, and play along for a while."

A delicate green eyebrow rose at that. "Indeed? Well then, I'll just caution you not to incite any further lack of discipline in the student body. Perhaps you can be a good influence-"

Ranma couldn't help herself, as she laughed outright at that. "Me? Good influence?" Her chuckles died down to a less disruptive level, before she continued, "Sorry, but I think you're barking up the wrong tree there, Miss Meiou."

"Perhaps," the taller woman allowed, before her smile turned wicked. "There was after all, those few times you were seen going into the boy's restrooms..."

Coughing suddenly from the water she was drinking going down the wrong way, Ranma leveled a half-hearted glare at the woman across from her. "There's a good reason for that, and it's not at all what you're thinking." Grumbling to herself, the young woman kicked back on the legs of her chair. "Not sure what I'm supposed to do as a gang-leader, though. I mean, most of those girls aren't bad, just... different, you know? They don't have the stable home lives, maybe, or the people backing them up, to know how to live the way everyone wants," the petite form thought out loud, reaching up to push her hood back. "Suppose that makes me one of them after all."

"I'm sure you'll find your way," the emerald-haired woman assured, before reaching into her suit jacket. Ranma showed no visible reaction, but her mind shifted into a more ready state, regardless. Setsuna's hand returned holding a thin envelope, which she laid on the table, before sliding it across in a slow fashion. "For your second job. You did well."

"I'm-" Ranma cut herself off, from finishing her intended claim to be the best. "-happy to be of service," she continued instead, shrugging at her companion's raised brow at her pause.

Setsuna nodded, apparently accepting the youth's statement. "I do wonder why the family you separated yourself from didn't have a higher opinion of your talents," she queried with a slight tilting of her head. "I was skeptical when you answered the ad, but you've proven very capable, for one so young. A shame, really."

Ranma let her lip curl slightly, inadvertently displaying an impressive row of sharpened teeth. "Eh, family's not a good topic, if you don't mind," she bit out, receiving an amicable shrug in answer. "Anyway. I get the jobs done. That's what matters."

"Indeed," Setsuna agreed, while straightening her shoulders slightly, settling her suit jacket. "That aside, then, I have your next job, if you're interested?"

"Another, so soon?" Ranma asked herself, doing a quick mental tally of the number of demons she'd run across or heard of in the last short while since settling in Juuban while another impulse had her blood quicken in her veins. This would make seven in two months – three that were non-threats, two she took care of recently, and the one that the Senshi had handled along with a city block just after she'd gotten her job. Officially, anyway. There were others, but... Ranma blinked as she pulled her mind hard away from those thoughts. Rather than show her surprise at the new job, Ranma simply nodded. "Sure, keeps food on the table. What'cha got for me?"

Pulling a small slip of paper from her suit pocket again, she slid it across the table, letting it rest beside the envelope already there. "Another deportation order. You seem to handle delivering those well."

The redhead smiled sunnily. "Got to put these amazing people-skills to use, y'know," she quipped, though her expression darkened quickly after. "Though... I've been wondering how you know-"

"I don't ask about your skills," Setsuna interrupted quietly, but firmly, "so do me the favor of not asking about this, in return. Call it professional courtesy."

Ranma blinked at the woman for a few moments, before nodding once. "Fair enough. You pay well enough not to ask too many questions."

"We all have a life we want to lead, and want to continue leading. That we have other callings sometimes intrudes on that desire. How we balance the two, that defines how we ultimately live."

Again, the redhead was left blinking after he companion spoke. "That's... true. I guess."

A slow smile crossed the woman's features as she stood, apparently satisfied with their meeting. "Try not to get into too much trouble, Maya."

"Only when no one's looking," the redhead replied, as the taller woman walked away. Again, Ranma found herself somewhat captivated by the woman's walk, openly staring at the sway of hips and generous view of toned, tanned skin. Once she was out of view, Ranma slumped into her seat, the tension leaving her body in a rush. "Man, something about her always puts me on edge."

"Pretty girls do that to people," a new voice offered, as a familiar presence settled where the taller woman had once been. It was followed by the clink of a glass being sat in front of her. "Though usually it only affects us men. Makes me wonder occasionally if I should warn my daughter about you, Maya."

Chuckling, the redhead took a long drink of the cocktail she'd been given, before looking up from behind her cascade of bangs at the her boss. Sparing him a rakish smile, she hummed thoughtfully, "Lock her up and throw away the key, and I'll just climb up the castle wall." When the man's expression turned shocked at her blatant reply, Ranma laughed openly. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Nozomi's safe around me. Think of her kinda like a little sister, to be honest." Pocketing the slip and envelope on the table, Ranma spared her employer a more normal, honest smile. "So, everything ready for tonight?"

Still slightly shaken by the young woman's joke, the older man nodded, regaining his conversational footing. "Should be ready for the rush. I feel bad with you ditching school for this-"

"Don't," Ranma cut the man off, her hand held up between them. "It ain't gonna matter one way or another. School's never been something I did because I had to, more when I could. Right now, I need a place to stay, and that means I need a job."

"You could always stay with us, you know."

"I appreciate the offer," Ranma replied, and she really did. And she knew just the same that it would really, really not work out. "But I got to be on my own. Pride," she explained, somewhat honestly. "Really my biggest issue. But we all got something like that."

Shrugging, the man nodded. Spying her newspaper, his expression lit somewhat. "Oh, that's today's?"

Peering down, Ranma realized what he meant. "Oh, the paper. Yeah, I got it to check out this 'Exorcist' that's been in the headlines."

"Right, the one beating the Senshi to the punch," the man noted, missing the satisfied little grin Ranma sported. "Lot of talk about that this morning. People don't know what to make of what this Exorcist character does, though a lot of them are thrilled they do it without blowing up the city block where the demon is."

Ranma stifled her grin, keeping her attention on her homework, not that she was actually doing it. Her boss' next words drew her back, however, "Got to say that footage was gruesome though. Got to wonder if they're not worse than what they're fighting."

The redhead blinked owlishly before paling dramatically. "...footage?"

"Yeah, some girl from Juuban High got some pictures of what was left of that last demon, before the police and forensics showed up to clean the scene," the older man explained, flipping thorough the paper.

"That... that wasn't in the paper..."

"Damnedest thing, looked like someone turned the tables and ate the demon this time, rather than the other way around. What? Paper – oh, no, no. She apparently sold it to a television station." The man peered over the newspaper at her. "You do watch TV, right?"

Conversation between the two died off at that point uncomfortably, with the bar's owner absently watching a sports game on the widescreen TV's peppered around the bar, while Ranma scratched something down in a worn notebook. The only break in that silence came a few minutes later, being a muffled curse, as the redhead looked at one of the slips of paper she held. "Right, kinda... late for something. I'll be back before my shift!" she called back, running from the bar at a dead sprint that kicked up loose paper in her wake.

–

"She could've warned me that this job was only a few hours off," Ranma groused, as she banged around her small efficiency apartment like a contained tornado. Clothes were shed, tossed into vaguely organized piles, while others were pulled out of boxes that served as a dresser and stuffed into a bag. Ranma's bar uniform, such as it was, got packed into a small duffel, along with a small selection of makeup that functioned more to hide any wounds she couldn't obscure with clothing than personal embellishment.

Thanks to her new demonic nature, her 'natural' coloration seemed to take care of such things on its own. Hooray.

Heaving a sigh, Ranma looked to her disused school bag, before shaking her head. Homework would have to wait till after her shift. If at all. It was a damned miracle things were working out so her schedule let her make tests and mostly keep her grades up, but it'd be a moot point soon, if she didn't start attending more regularly. There was only so many absences she could explain away, before the school would fail her on principle alone. It was actually a wonder she was still enrolled, and Ranma suspected Setsuna of meddling, but couldn't prove anything, and was wary to consider it. Too many questions, and the boon might disappear. Seeing as the woman seemed to be at least partially involved with the school's administration, it wouldn't be too hard a thing to do nudge some data around, in her behalf... but was what she did for the woman, worth that kind of attention?

More things to make her paranoid, Ranma admitted with a gusty sigh.

Checking the wall clock, she set her internal version and nodded, before checking herself in the mirror by the closet. Gone was the urban girl, to be replaced by someone who looked like they'd be going to a gym. A sports top in black was tucked into a similar pair of running pants, that sported buttons down the sides in case she needed to let loose a bit more. She'd learned the value of clothing that could adapt like her form seemed prone to, in those first few weeks. Replacing clothes every other night got expensive, and there was nothing like a busty, stunning redhead naked and covered in blood that screamed "Look at me!" Her cover was tenuous enough without any more of those incidents, thanks.

The top having its exposed shoulders would accommodate her wings, when and if she called on them, and the material for both was easy to clean, and came out unstained, for the most part. Black was good, for that, and clothes made to deal with sweat seemed to handle other bodily fluids just as well. As Ranma absently inspected herself in the mirror, she redid her trademark braid, working it into a higher, tighter, less tempting variety. The first demon she'd taken out had nearly gutted her, by using it against her, and since then, she'd been debating cutting it off... but never did so. It would have been too much like giving up on her old self, to take that kind of action.

Maybe she'd have to do exactly that, someday, Ranma admitted. That thought was followed by a derisive laugh. "Yeah. About the same time I give up on being a guy."

One last glance at the clock had her grabbing the small duffel, after shoving a garbage bag into it. Not like she could clean her clothes before work with how the timing was today.

–

Never let it be said that Ranma considered herself a hero.

That odd thought was brought on by what she was planning, in the next few minutes. The directions and time she held in her hand were rough estimates, accurate to a few minutes, but those few minutes made all the difference. She made the mistake once on her first job from Setsuna, and arrived late to save someone from becoming food for the demon she had been sent to kill. Glancing at her watch – another new addition – the redhead bit at her lip savagely.

She was going to be late.

"No," the martial artist thought quietly, "nothing at all like a hero." Not even in her past, really, despite all the 'heroic' things she'd done. She'd been too clouded with pride and arrogance, then, to see how she only made things worse more often than not. Now, she lacked those things. What was there to be prideful of? Her code, her honor? The Art still served her, but she used it for things it was never meant for. Survival, killing. "Sure, they were demons," she reasoned bitterly, "but then what am I?"

Were they really so different?

Ranma knew the answers – at least all the ones that kept her up at night. Yes, they were different. She didn't prey on people, didn't drain them, didn't hunt humans for food or amusement.

No, they weren't so different. How many of the demons out there, that she'd one day hunt down, were human just like her, once? What did that make her, who hunted them? Didn't it make her more of a monster, that she preyed on monsters herself?

Her honor was a ruined mess, the less spoken of the better. Ranma knew well enough that if she really wanted to appease that idea, that the only way to do so would be to end her existence. Even lacking the curse, there were just too many entanglements, feeding on one another, eating at all those involved, getting bigger and more bitter as time went on. The Amazons were already murderous lunatics, on the best days – how long till someone else went just as far? How long until a jealous fiancee or rival didn't pull that punch, and someone actually died? And Ranma knew who would be blamed, ultimately.

And, she admitted, it was wholly her fault.

The code she'd lived by died that day with Ayaka, and her honor had been slowly wasting away since she'd been born, at the hands of her father, and her own lack of decisiveness. Trying to justify anything she did now with either of those two ideas would only dirty them further. No, she did what she did for a lot of reasons.

Not because she was protecting those who couldn't protect themselves – as the code Genma had beaten into her demanded – but because someone had to do, what she did. Maybe the code lived on in her, in some twisted way, but she couldn't stand by and let people be preyed on by demons and do nothing. All her training, all the time and sweat and blood and tears she'd spent on being who she'd become, could not sit idly by. It would have been like asking the wind to be still, or water to flow up. For all that she was driven, however, Ranma had no illusions about being noble in her actions, or that she acted out of any concept of justice. Perhaps what she was doing could be seen as right from some outside perspective, but that didn't mean such a thing was her purpose.

She did it to survive. The less demons around her, the less demon hunters would frequent the area, which meant she could work on her semblance of a life. Her ability to mask herself was imperfect at best, and though she was getting better, there was simply no way to fully hide her nature. Oh, she could cloak it for short periods even further with the Umisenken, but that was a temporary thing at best. Even she couldn't keep the technique up constantly.

She did it, because she had to. Eyes glazing slightly as the hunger she'd been ignoring stabbed through her, Ranma faltered as she lighted on a rooftop, bare feet clattering noisily along the roofing gravel there. She'd learned the trick to using her ki to slowly siphon energy from her surroundings, to bolster herself, but it was like eating by breathing in the scents of food. Sure, you got something you needed from the air, but it wasn't food at all. She needed something with more substance, more density.

Ranma refused to think about how much she'd been hunting recently, and how much more often she'd needed to... eat.

Sure, she was off to track down and kill another demon, and do the right thing. One less pin on the map, to bring attention to her little corner of the world. She'd save some people, then scar their minds for life, as she fed on her kill. "Yeah. That's some hero," she distantly muttered, as her demonic senses snapped into focus on something nearby.

Fueled by her new body's needs, her instincts flared and where a petite redhead had stood just moments before, a figure from either nightmare – or perhaps daydream – stretched in its stead. With a clap of wings against the quiet Juuban air, the demon swept up into the sky, beginning its hunt.

"I don't understand. We're the heroes! Why do we have to stand by like this?" The figure before Setsuna waited a beat, before continuing, "I don't think we should stand by – I say we go."

It was clear the Guardian of the Gates that her future Queen was trying to summon up a semblance of her royal air, in the attempt to sway her from her current path. What the blond had attempted however, fell well short of authority, and settled quite firmly into the realm of petulance. Folding her hands into her lap as she patiently waited out the chorus of agreement from some of the other younger Senshi, Setsuna sat quiet and unshaken in her resolve. "I understand your feelings," she assured the young woman before her, seeing her eyes light up with hope. "However..."

That hope died, then rebirthed itself as resignation. "However?"

"There is a reason for why I'm asking you all to wait these attacks out. They are being handled, after all," she explained quietly, indicating the newspaper before her.

Ami, ever the voice of reason, chimed in at her pause. "Does this have something to do with the training you're having us do? To better use our powers?"

Nodding, Setsuna settled back in her chair with a light sigh. "Very much so. These threats are minor, and though they are dangerous, they don't require our attention," she calmly pointed out. The hesitance in the blonde before her was still high, but that of those with her lessened as she continued on, "Rather than spend time chasing minor demons that are easily handled by others trained for just such foes, our efforts are better-spent working to broaden our skills and sharpen our focus-"

"Our focus should be on protecting people," Usagi insisted again, folding her arms across her breasts in a display of solidity. Setsuna had to admit, the girl was very good at projecting her feelings via body language, as the girl's posture practically screamed rebellion and stubbornness. "We are the protectors of love and justice. Demons have no place, where the Senshi are!"

As her slight irritation at the impromptu meeting bloomed into a full headache, Setsuna wondered again if she couldn't just go back in time, and throw Luna under a bus somewhere. Some carefully planted action manga, and a subtle nudge by way of a package with her henshin pen could have done so much better, for her peace of mind and sanity, than letting a schoolgirl's imagination run off on its own to build a heroic alter-ego.

Though, a solid part of the blame rested on a different Mau, to be honest. Artemis' sense of humor resulted in 'Sailor V's' costume, which in turn, became the inspiration for Usagi's own plan. A plan which the Silver Imperium Crystal, the fundamental tie between their Senshi Crystals and their decimated planets, enforced with a single-minded vengeance.

Of course, she couldn't just burst the girl's little daydream, no matter how preposterous it made her look. Doing so would crush the blonde's dreams, and that would do none of them any good... not to mention there were protocols she could not bypass in place, regarding how and what she could tell the young woman. No, she, like the rest of them, was stuck with the fuku, and more importantly, a future Queen with a hero complex.

Recovering her thoughts from the interruption a moment before, Setsuna loosed a small, put-upon sigh. "Very well. If you insist on going to investigate the recent attacks, then I have to brief you on those who are out hunting the demons as well," she informed the gathered girls. "It wouldn't do to have you accidentally attacking an ally or innocent."

"You mean this 'Exorcist', the media's talking about?" Minako shook her head once as she wrapped her arms around herself, looking out a nearby window. "Tell me I wasn't the only one to see that news report this morning. I'm almost more concerned about them, than the demons."

To her side, Makoto nodded, latching on to the new topic rather than come between her Princess and future Queen, and the intimidating Pluto. "That last demon we couldn't follow up on because of all the press and police, right. Was that what was left of it?"

"It looked like a wild animal had attacked it," Minako elaborated, the taller brunette by her side nodding emphatically.

"Girls." The chatter that had sprung up died off, at Setsuna's raised voice. "This kind of rumor-mongering and speculation are exactly what lead to most of our mistakes," she reminded, noting the two most vocal Senshi's synchronized wince at that. "I'm no less to blame for those either, but I learned from my errors. Now," she pulled a folder from seemingly nowhere, and laid it on the table. "There are some difficult truths you need to hear and deal with, if you insist on this course of action."

"What do you mean?"

The elder Senshi glanced at Usagi, then back to the papers before her. "The person hunting those demons happens to be a demon as well."

There was a moment of deadly stillness, before the room erupted into a cacophony of recrimination and noise. Abiding it for a minute – she'd glanced at her watch to verify it – Setsuna finally called the younger Senshi back to order. "Are you all quite done acting like children?" All the noise in the room died, leaving behind angry glances. "Good. I would like to remind you, that not only has Mamoru been 'turned', but so has Chibiusa, Rei's grandfather, and countless others. Just because someone's form appears to be something, does not mean the being inside matches.

"You would do very well to keep that in mind, in the upcoming days," she warned with a hint of foreboding in her voice.

With a contemplative look on her face, Rei breached the silence that had fallen in the wake of Setsuna's words. "If this Exorcist is a demon, why do they fight their own kind?"

Setsuna allowed an honest shadow of a smile to bend her lips. "Their reasons are their own, sadly. And far too complex for me to possibly guess."

"But you have the Gates," Usagi countered, hands worrying at her hair where she'd pulled it into her lap after taking a seat.

Heaving a sigh, Setsuna considered the best way to explain what she needed to, without wholly destroying the other girl's trust and reliance on her. She didn't need the latter so much as she found it useful and convenient for her purposes – those being for the most part damage control and avoiding larger problems. Settling on a truth, if not the whole truth, she began, "The Gates are an amazing tool, and one that takes decades to properly learn. What they were created for, mirrors my own purpose as their Guardian – to ensure the stability and security of the local timestream."

As she'd expected, Ami siezed onto her wording like a shark scenting blood in the water. "Local timestream?"

"Yes," she agreed simply. "Local. It would be impossible for me to monitor the entirety of time, in a universe. There are other tools similar to the Gates in other civilizations, who's magic, technology, or simple power allows them the possibility to abuse time itself."

"So you have a union?" Minako chimed in, getting incredulous looks from everyone, except Setsuna who was quietly chuckling. "Oh, c'mon! She thought it was funny!"

"No, I don't have a union," the older woman replied, still smiling. Her mirth lessened, as she continued, "The nature of the Gates and my own position at them don't allow me to abuse them – and thereby the timesteam – to do what you're thinking. I can look backwards, and plan based on what has already occurred, but I cannot look forward. It is forbidden." She did not elaborate on how she could, if needed, contact her past self to affect needed changes.

"But, what about Chibiusa? And that time you let some of us travel forward to Crystal Tokyo?"

Setsuna nodded to Ami's question, having expected it. "Good questions. For one, Chibiusa was sent back to avoid paradox, even if doing so caused instability. Information would not have been enough; I needed someone with experience to brief me on what to expect, and how to guide events to mend the damage they made to the timeline.

"Those same instabilities allow, for lack of a better phrasing, windows which I can use to travel, or send others. Call it a natural balancing situation. Time itself allows for compensation to be made, when breaches occur."

It took her a minute, but Usagi got her head around what was bothering her about what the Senshi was saying, and put it to words. "If you can't see forward, like you said, then how can you know or not know what's coming? You've warned us about things a lot, how can you do that, when you can't see the future?"

"I look backwards," she replied without elaboration. Giving the Senshi a moment to chew on that, she continued, "Ami would understand it best, but even looking back allows one to plan for the future. In fact, it offers better assurance – the past is set. The future is ever-changing."

"I guess I understand," Usagi muttered, looking somewhat perturbed by the recent changes to her assumptions. "So, how can you be sure we need to train like you've been having us do? And what about this new demon?"

Folding her hands before her on the table, Setsuna met the girl's eyes directly. "I'm not sure you will need the training. However, you should have it. Senshi candidates in your mother's time needed at least a decade of training, just to qualify to test for their positions."

Makoto didn't like the sound of that, and said so, "That's a lot of time... you're not going to make us do that, are you? I mean, I have school and college soon, and some day I want to open a bakery..." She missed calculating look that Rei shot her, though Setsuna did not.

"Yeah, I don't mind fighting for love and justice and all that, but ten years?" Minako shook her head. "We're doing alright, as-is. We don't need that kind of training."

"I beg to differ," Pluto's Guardian replied icily. "To be blunt, your performance in the past has been terrible."

"Hey!"

"That's mean," Usagi complained, huffing angrily. "We won, didn't we?"

Setsuna's eyes narrowed on the girl, making her squirm. "And how many times have you all died? How many innocents have been slain? How much avoidable damage do you all do, wantonly throwing your power around? How many times have you had to rely on the Silver Crystal to revive the dead?"

"But-"

"You mother foresaw the need for that, and bound enough power – gathered from her own dying Empire, I might add – for you to have that ability, in the event of an emergency. Do you think the Crystal will always have that kind of power?" Shaking her head, Setsuna sat back, tiredly regarding the young woman before her. "What happens, Usagi, when it fails you some day?"

Paling, the blonde looked to her friends, then back to the dusky-skinned woman before her. "...fails?"

Nodding, Setsuna held the girl's eyes with her own. "Fails. The Silver Crystal is powerful, but not without limits. One day, it will cease to function, and you will be left without it as a crutch – a crutch your mother knew you'd need, but a crutch nonetheless. In time you'll have your own formidable powers, and can recharge it to a degree, but never to the point it once was. You don't have a dying Empire's hopes and dreams to bind to it," she grimly concluded.

Usagi looked to her hands, eyes growing misty. "...I just want to do what's right..."

"And you are. And you will. But you can't keep on doing it like you have."

Nodding at Setsuna's words, the blonde looked up, resolve clear in her blue eyes. "Alright. We'll train harder." A few grumbles were muttered from the other Inner Senshi, but she quieted them with a glare. "I mean it! If I have to get up early and practice, you do too!"

As Usagi, Minako, Ami, and Makoto filed out of the Shrine, Setsuna knew this wouldn't be the end of things. Likely, at best, she simply delayed the inevitable. Ami would likely be the catalyst for that, but she wouldn't act against her. It wasn't her place, to do so, and to box the Senshi in would only raise their distrust in her, making her work all the harder.

She pulled herself from her thoughts, as Rei settled into the space across from her. "You know," the shrine maiden began, "Usagi's better than you give her credit for."

Setsuna nodded, "I give her more than I let on. She needs to mature, however, and if previous battles haven't been enough..." she looked to her hands, frowning severely. "I don't know how else to push her. I would have assumed seeing you all die – repeatedly – would force her to take this all more seriously."

"She wouldn't be Usagi, if that were so."

Pluto's Guardian didn't remind the young woman that Usagi no longer went by that name, in her time as Neo-Queen Serenity. "Is this why you stayed behind? To lecture me on my handling of Usagi?"

Rei waved the woman's question aside. "No, not really. I agree, actually, with most of what you're trying to do. I've always wanted her to be more of a leader, and maybe this will be what pushes her to that point."

"But?"

"...but I also wonder at why you're protecting that demon," Rei concluded, her eyes narrowing. "I understand that our enemies use people against us sometimes. Hell, Chiba's something of the village bike in that regard." She smirked, as Setsuna laughed quietly at that. "But why work so hard to isolate us from them? You know as well as I, what happens when demons prey on one another."

She did, but had hoped Rei did not. "I see you're the one I have to convince of this, rather than Usagi," Setsuna murmured quietly, reaching up to rub at the bridge of her nose. "Very well then.

"When I said I couldn't look forward, I wasn't lying. However, nothing keeps me from glancing to the side." Seeing the younger woman's confusion, Setsuna elaborated. "Potential realities, other versions of today," she explained, smiling at Rei's widened eyes. "Exactly. Those probable worlds give me greater insight, and new perspective.

"What I learned from watching all those alternate timelines, playing spectator, is that we are not prepared for what comes next."

"What!" Rei stood suddenly, her chair clattering to the floor. "You said there wouldn't be another enemy!"

Shaking her head, Pluto smiled a wry, private smile. "I said I could foresee no other enemies. But you misunderstand. This isn't another Beryl, or Galaxia. Our next fight I fear won't be against an outside force."

Rei's troubled demeanor didn't lessen at the elder Senshi's cryptic words. "I don't understand."

"And sadly, I cannot elaborate," Setsuna replied, bowing her head slightly. "In time, it will become clear. Just as the 'Exorcist's' reasons for what they do, and why I've asked for understanding and time, in their case."

"I'm still not convinced about that."

Standing and moving to the doorway, Setsuna paused, before favoring the shrine maiden with a haunted smile. "Neither am I. But hope springs eternal."

–

AN: Meh.