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.

6. Darkened Skies

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: Foray #2 into something like what I ultimately was planning on. This was written before Eclipsed, and served as something of a 'Ramna and the Outers: take one!' situational proof. It has a bit more of my current interests represented, and is more in line with me relaxing into my writing, which sadly I do very little of.

—

Darkened Skies

"So... this is Juuban?"

Nodoka spared her child a slight smile. "Not quite. I say Juuban because people expect condominiums when you mention this ward. I live near the edge of Shinjuku. Minato and Juuban are a few blocks south."

Ranma nodded in understanding. Most of Shinjuku seemed pretty industrial, rather than residential. Not quite lugging – the packs and baggage were heavy, but not that heavy – her things, Ranma nodded, looking around herself curiously. "So... I really won't be going back to Furinkan?"

Her mother snorted indelicately. "No. You were right when you said that place was a circus. I did a small bit of research, and found out the principal there is quite mad."

"Could have told ya that," the redhead muttered, maneuvering her luggage through the small gate that lead up to her mother's new home. It was very familiar, resembling the former Saotome residence greatly. Then again, Ranma admitted, current home-building practices in Japan were based in homogeneity – everywhere you looked, things fit in neat little boxes, lined up in perfect little rows. Some days it made something inside the martial artist cringe. Turning her thoughts away from habits ingrained by ten years of constant travel, she smiled up at her mother. "Just hope I'm ready," she noted with a slight bit of anxiety.

"A little fear is understandable," Nodoka allowed, sparing her currently-female son an assuring smile. "Still, we did arrange a pair of tutors, you recall. They come highly recommended, and the arrangement seemed to your taste."

Ranma hummed slightly, nodding. The arrangement wasn't too unusual, as things went between familiar families. A trade of skills, rather than an exchange of money. Still, it made her nervous. This would be her first real experience with training and teaching. She just hoped not to botch it too badly. She really needed those tutors.

Not that she was gunning for Tokyo-U, but after the madness in Nerima, and a few choice words from her mother, the idea of being forced to live like Genma left her feeling very... motivated. It helped that her mother was very good at wording things to help her direct her focus. Turning schooling into a challenge seemed to have done the trick.

"I think it'll work out," Ranma agreed. "Just hope I don't make a fool of myself too much."

Nodoka rolled her eyes. "Don't worry about it, son," the woman said. "Speaking of..."

Ranma winced, knowing this was coming. "I... yeah. If I have to."

"Actually, I've become a little concerned about your curse," Nodoka explained, letting them into her home. It was spacious for two – but only that many. She had not purchased it with the idea of her whole family being present, and had no desire to. Genma was no longer welcome there without her invitation, something she had made quite clear. "From what I understand after... Jusendo, was it?" Ranma nodded, her face darkening slightly at the reminder. "Yes, after Jusendo it seemed the temperature needed to activate your curse kept rising. What is the hot water trigger up to now?"

Thinking about the last two times she'd managed to assume her male form, Ranma made a face. "Ugh. A bit below boiling."

Nodoka made a pained face to match. "Soon, you will need boiling water, won't you?"

"That's what I'm afraid of," Ranma replied quietly, sitting her things down by the room she'd been given. She'd visited the new Saotome home with her mother in the past, but it was never a place she'd lingered. Until recently, there were just too many things tying her to Nerima – and she wanted no repeats of what happened when her mother's house had last been demolished previously. She felt bad enough having one destroyed home on her conscience.

Thinking about water, however, caused her neutral mask to break slightly, a frown tugging at her lips. "If the trend continues, I'm afraid that even boiling water won't work. And I don't think I can stand scalding myself on super-hot steam... or if it'd even work. These curses are really particular."

"It is troubling," Nodoka agreed, cursing her soon-to-be ex-husband again for all he'd done to destroy her little boy. Little girl, now, more often than not. "Perhaps some research is needed? I'm... not sure where to look, but if I can help in any way, Ranma, just ask."

"Thanks, mom," the redhead replied with a real smile – one that actually reached her eyes.

Nodoka couldn't help but smile back. It had been far too long since she'd seen Ranma happy. That thought recalled why they'd left Nerima, and her own smile faltered slightly.

Ranma knew what was going through her mother's mind, and gave the older woman a firm hug. "Don't worry 'bout it. I'll get over it sooner or later. You can too."

"I know," Nodoka replied, her pride and joy clear in her voice. Such a strong child she had! "I just find myself so angry after all you did for that despicable girl."

"I wasn't exactly the best person to be around either," Ranma replied with a raised brow. The effect was rather cute, and earned a hand in her hair, ruffling it into a frazzled mess. "Hey! You know it's true."

"No excuse," Nodoka stated with an air of finality. "Petty squabbles between betrothed are nearly expected. We know – as parents – well enough that such things do not result in love overnight – sometimes not at all. But to go behind you, after you saving her life... and that boy! Some days I wish you'd done more, Ranma. I really do."

Tugging on her braid in embarrassment, Ranma shook her head. "No, Ryoga got what he deserved. I'm not gonna let it bother me anymore. I gave him his lumps, and that's that."

Nodoka nodded faintly. Truth was, Ranma had all but killed the boy. She'd checked the other teen's chart as the Tendos visited him in the hospital, and the prognosis actually had some permanent damage in it. Not that she blamed Ranma for his... her anger.

"Besides," the redhead quipped with misty eyes, "If not for all that, I'd not be here. So, lets just be thankful for what we got, mom."

Smiling proudly, Nodoka swept the smaller girl into a hug. "When'd you get wise, Ranma? It looks good on you."

Ranma just grinned, reveling in the feel of acceptance. "When I started taking after my mom."

–

Everything was changing.

Her fist roared out, the motion turning fluid at the contact point, as Ranma shifted her weight forward. One knee lashed out, as a punch became a light grapple.

School. She'd never have to see Furinkan again. She could focus on her grades, the one thing that the old man never let her do, and that the chaos that followed in her wake seemed to hate. Maybe she'd visit Ninomiya-sensei at home, though. She worried about the little ki-vampire. Ranma made a note to buy some pocky. Maybe another fighting-fish, for her collection.

Kata flowed. She never let a single full motion stay one style. In fact, the idea that these were truly kata was a lie. Kata were static, unchanging. This was controlled chaos, tuned to the Art. Her leg kicked up, a sweeping, jaw-cracking attack, that hung in midair while she pivoted on her planted foot, her arms knife-edging a sweep where a leg was expected. She tumbled backwards into a spinning flurry of striking feet.

Home. She had though the Tendo residence was home. Had felt it, deep in her bones those two years and some months she'd lived there. It had all turned out to be a lie. Self-delusion, her mother called it. Ranma realized she was right. She'd wanted a home so badly, that the first thing that looked like it, became it. Now, though, she had the real thing. And she loved it.

Her momentum let her roll through or under an imaginary guard, and the redhead exploded into a flurry of striking hands and feet, before going completely immobile. The chaotic dance of her momentum seemed to outpace her, and she turned on it. Just as sudden motion could disrupt an opponent, so too could sudden stillness.

Ranma breathed in the morning air in even, controlled, deep breaths. She sometimes missed the feeling of exertion that the Art used to bring, but she also reveled in knowing even her most strenuous routines couldn't wind her now. The kata she was in the middle of spun across the ground, against the wall, then took her into the air. A downward leg strike, that would drive a foe into the ground, or if blocked, keep her airborne just a fraction of a second longer. A series of punches, angled to give her just that little bit of lift. A sweeping kick...

She was changing, too.

Saotome Anything Goes was an aerial Art. Ranma was now uniquely qualified to perfect it.

Ranma gave into the urge that sang in her blood and with a sound of tearing silk, a pair of great terrible wings sheared the air behind her, holding her airborne. Ranma tilted her head, peering over a shoulder at the deceptively delicate looking structures that moved by her will, against any and all physical and biological logic. They were the stereotypical demon's wings – black of membrane and the dull red of dried blood along the flesh and bones. Bones that mimicked the structure of a mammals arm, resembling nothing so much as great bat wings. Ranma knew they were too small to support her, yet they did so. Their magic wouldn't fail her, in that way.

Magic. Looking inside herself in a moment of quiet disconnection, she could feel that new strength waiting, curled up like some sleeping beast within her. It nestled up against her ki, as if to emphasize its foothold inside her. "Here I am," it murmured in sleep, she imagined. "Waiting."

It had awakened when Saffron nearly killed Akane... and how she hated it for doing so. How she hated the siren's-song that reminded her how much she literally ached to grasp it.

She was a monster, now. Akane had said so. And in her heart, Ranma knew it too.

There had to have been another way. Something else, some other Ace she could have pulled to stop the maddened Phoenix godling. Instead, she had given into rage and despair. Sorrow. The pools, spawned by the same, answered. She really had no other explanation, but sometimes wondered. Her urge to destroy, to kill, to end Saffron had been answered – form following the function she desired. Something terrible to counter the admittedly beautiful Phoenix Lord.

Power had flooded Ranma – alien, strange, unfamiliar power. Where it came from, she didn't know, but at the time – male, despairing, and desperate – he hadn't asked. Fire and ice ran through him in rapid cycles searing him, freezing him, while something vital and delicate broke deep within the young martial artist. Scared and unsure, he'd tried to harness that rending force, but instead came knowledge. Terrible in its seduction, it wrapped around his fears and desires, whispering to the then-desperate young man. His own voice, his own knowledge, things long-ago he'd discounted and discarded as fantasy. He had tried to flee from that knowing, denying the pervasive sense of wrongness that came with it. Whatever had invaded him – had reawakened – hadn't stopped at the body, or simple ki. It had touched his fundamental self – that part that was the essential Ranma Saotome. Touched it, and changed it without permission or remorse. He'd felt violated in such a way that physical analogy simply could not compare. It had shamed him, but also... it felt right. Like a limb reawakening that he'd all but forgotten.

It gave him power. Power to destroy, as he had asked. Power to change.

Within the burning, freezing, fountaining waters of Jusendo, Ranma ceased to be. For a fraction of a moment, as if the world had blinked, he was forgotten. Then, in an avalanche of unholy force, Saffron's fires were consumed by black infernal flame. Cold and relentless, the ebon fires sucked the heat from the Phoenix Lord, depriving him of strength. At the heart of that dark inferno was Ranma.

Backed by the magics unleashed by Jusendo, the then-female Ranma had tapped deeply into the new well of strength. She drank, tipped back that well, until bitter sand flooded her mouth. The power nearly unmade her, as her revealed and subtly demonic form shifted into something terrible. The two wings she thoughtlessly tread air with shuddered, stilled, then split once, then again while she hung suspended in the air. Black membranes gave way to to feathers engulfed in light-eating flame, suspended along skeletal pinions. Behind her, a great spiraling pattern was etched into the very fabric of reality, maddening to the eye, searing to the mind. Carved of hellfire, it spun lazily like the wheels of damnation, turning balefully behind the terrible and beautiful angel of destruction. In its pattern, the cold, long, bitter death of the universe was recorded in illuminated prose.

Ranma opened her mouth, and sang the song of Ending. It wasn't a song of words, or ideas, but desire and will, and the power those two ideas in her could bring to bear. Behind her, the Sigil collapsed inward, as if the pattern had weakened the wall between worlds, letting it crumble from the pressure of her need to destroy. Perhaps that's exactly what happened. Untouched, she sat at the center of cataclysm. There was no other way to describe it.

Saffron would never tell the tale of his defeat. Hellfire did not leave ash, to allow rebirth. Nor was he alone, in that fate. In the wake of his destruction, Jusendo resembled nothing so much as a volcanic crater, devoid of anything resembling life. The Dragon and Phoenix Taps were no more – there would be no more ascended phoenix, to take up Saffron's mantle until those half-avian warriors found another way to incite the change in their leaders, again.

Later, out of fear and shame, she had lied to those that had fled when Saffron's anger had turned insane and indiscriminate. Luck had been on her side, as she was able to deflect most of the questions... and that her initial fear had been unfounded. Mount Phoenix was unscathed, and other than herself, no others had been touched by what she'd unleashed.

Only one truly witnessed this, besides her. In a bitter flavor of irony, Ranma found that she gave up everything for her love, including that love. Akane had shied from her, eyes full of fear, with the word monster on her lips.

And there was no denial Ranma could speak to explain herself.

Snapping herself from those memories, Ranma found she was continuing her aerial kata, her wings flaring and spinning with her through the motions. Her 'normal' wings, the redhead mused with a sub-vocalized laugh. Smiling faintly, she let the Art have her mind, drowning the self in motion and instinct.

Half an hour later, Nodoka stood upon her back deck, watching a young woman, demonic in form but noble at heart, rip through the air in a spectacular display. Hardly showing any reaction, she clapped her hands, "The furo is ready, Ranma. Go clean up, and breakfast will be done when you're out."

She turned with a slight smile on her lips, moving to make a breakfast for them before Ranma's first day at Juuban Municipal High School. She knew some would call her mad – her own mother first of them – for so casually accepting her child's fate. How could she not, though? He had not embraced evil – far from it in fact. He'd been cursed again, for defying great evil. Her son was so manly, giving up everything for the one he loved, only to have it end so tragically. Even in her fantastic romances, though, very little was mentioned about the life after such heroism. It was a sad reality that she could not arrange a Valhalla for her dear son, out of all the fiancees he trailed behind him – now her. And the suitors were quite out of the range of possibility. No child of hers would be subjected to a madman like Kuno! Not to mention Ranma's own refusal of such. Some days she despaired of ever seeing grandchildren in her lifetime, but pushed such notions away. She finally had her child back – she would not jeopardize that. Not again.

Ranma's great reward, as she had asked for it, was to just have a normal life for a while. She knew better than to believe it would last, but she had to get away from Nerima for a time. Nodoka understood this, having witnessed Ranma's new self, her changing curse, and her heartache at Akane's betrayal.

That... girl did not deserve her lovely fallen angel.

Nodoka stifled her anger, the knife in her hand slowing in its progress through the fish she'd be serving with rice and miso. "No more thinking on the past," she chided herself. "The future is more important."

She had her baby back. And if it meant her son was more her tomboyish daughter now, so be it. Nodoka smiled – genuinely – and called up that breakfast was ready. Like a true Saotome, Ranma was there with a healthy appetite in a flash.

Nodoka restrained the urge to coo at her child. So manly!

–

"Ya don't hafta walk me there, mom," Ranma noted, not that she was complaining. She wasn't on the fence beside the road, as she'd often be tempted to be, but was walking beside her mother as they traveled from the outskirts of Shinjuku into Minato. There, they'd take a subway for a short trip to Juuban Municipal High School.

"Don't begrudge your mother her small indulgences," Nodoka chided, smiling over at Ranma. The dear girl cut such a cute figure in her boy's school uniform. It would be better if she could get the girl into a Seifuku, but Nodoka knew better to push so hard, so fast. Ranma was still hurt and healing from too many other things. Not the most accomplished parent, Nodoka knew well enough however not to push too hard on this. Besides, the Gakuran was quite smart. She had to sew a few tucks into the waist of the top to accommodate her child's prodigious bust, so that the tailored top wouldn't seem simply baggy, but the effect was still quite sharp. The slacks needed to be custom made, however, or Ranma wouldn't even consider them – and Juuban Municipal would not allow her child to attend out of uniform. Compromises were made, and Ranma was satisfied with the result.

Nodoka had used what she learned to covertly acquire a matching few sets of Seifuku, regardless. One never knew...

It occurred to her that her 'son' did nothing by half measures, even being female. Chuckling quietly, she reached out and ruffled Ranma's hair affectionately, getting a half-hearted squeak and glare in return.

Ranma's face melted into a smile. "Thanks for walking me there, mom."

"First days are important," Nodoka replied with a nod. "And how could I not walk my son to his first day, at least once? This is so exciting!"

Ranma nodded, feeling very content with this new beginning. It was quite a lot different from her first day at Furinkan. She'd batted the idea back and forth with her mother about walking with her two tutors – who were in the same year she was – but decided for today at least, she'd give in and let her mom 'mother' her a bit. The woman had a lot of time to make up for, after all.

Laughing quietly and practically glowing with happiness, Ranma mused on something that had been on her mind for some time, since the curse began to shift. Normally being called son by her mother wouldn't even register as something to think on, but now... Even the Phoenix Pill could only do so much, she knew. Water had to be hot to change her, and the Pill could do nothing for that. The fear that eventually even boiling water wouldn't be enough spiked through the redhead, dimming her enjoyment of the day.

"Hey, mom?"

Nodoka noted the suddenly subdued tone, turning to see a pensive look on her child's face. "Yes, Ranma?"

Steeling herself, the redhead kept her eyes hard forward, so she'd not see the reaction her mother had to her words. Not while she was speaking them, at least. "I... I know we talked 'bout the curse some last night. I know why I gotta go to school as a girl. Ain't like a thermos will keep water that hot anyway, or that they'd let me keep a kettle.

"But uh," she hedged, wincing. Her voice grew small and wary, "...till we figure somethin' out, maybe you shouldn't call me son."

The elder Saotome woman kept her expression clear. "Are you sure, Ranma? I understand what you are saying, but this... this is your identity that you are so casually speaking of. I know in your mind you are still male. You were born my son. Do you truly want to change that?"

"No!" Ranma's reply was hissed, angry, but not at Nodoka. "I don't. Hell, if I could do it, I'd fix this now. But I can't," she muttered. "Don't normally care, but... we're starting over right?" Nodoka nodded, waiting for the smaller girl to continue. "Well, I'm doin' it as a girl. For now. And till we figure somethin' out... I don't want you to get looked at funny."

The last was spoken so softly, that Nodoka almost missed it. She didn't however, and Ranma found herself wrapped up in a fierce hug. "M-Mom?"

"You are so noble," the older woman murmured into Ranma's hair. "I don't care. I don't. But if it will ease your mind, I'll adjust. Daughter."

Ranma visibly swallowed, but the spike of anger and disgust she was expecting at that word didn't come. Maybe it was having her mother holding her that kept it at bay. Maybe it was the fact this was her own idea. Maybe it was the acceptance and love she could almost see her mother glowing with. Whatever it was, Ranma was glad for it. "Just remember, I'm still a guy up here," she added, tapping her temple. "So no guys, or marriage inteviews."

"I understand, Ranma," Nodoka replied, sniffling once. "But, I do expect grandchildren sometime, daughter. So, we must beat your curse, or speed things up!" Taking her kimono in a hand, she took Ranma's with her other, pulling them into a light jog.

"Mom! Wait, gah," Ranma stumbled then bounced up to pace her mother. "Whaddya mean, speed things up?"

"Mustn't keep all the lovely girls in Juuban in suspense," Nodoka replied with a sly grin. "How can they fall in love with my daughter and discover her true manly self if we keep them waiting?"

Ranma let her head slump, but her grin remained. "Moooom..."

"And clean up your speech, dear. You're almost as bad as that Amazon sometimes, I swear."

Rolling her eyes, Ranma heaved a put-upon sigh. "Yes, mother."

"That's a good girl."

–

Ranma was well aware that she was on her last year of high school. This year, and what she could do to make up her grades, would determine how her future went. What she'd do with it was up in the air still, but she knew that there was something more to it than just the Art. Not that she'd ever give that up, but still. She wasn't going to let the old man win. Her future was her own.

There were a few things she did plan on changing, however. If only just to appease her sense of mischief. Her mother had balked at one change in particular...

"Today we have a new student, joining us for this year. Saotome-san, please come in and introduce yourself."

Homeroom class 3-B blinked – minus two figures who simply grinned wider – somewhat in unison as a small-statured, buxom, cheerful redhead strode into the room casually, turning a sharp corner before the blackboard to write her name. The usual characters, if taken outside of naming context, for Saotome appeared. "Fast young woman," Ranma mused as she finished the last of them. "Pretty accurate."

Her smirk widened as she scratched out her given name. "Let 'em chew on that a while," she thought, a glint coming to her eye.

3-B again blinked as they took in girl before them, standing with her hands behind her back, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. Her demeanor, posture, and walk all screamed 'boy!' to the young people watching her, and that was before the tailored male uniform was taken into consideration. The name on the board behind her must have been some kind of family joke – who names their child "Wild demon", after all? Though, most could see the humor in it, considering the very-Japanese young woman before them, with very-Gaijin hair and eye colors. "Good morning," Ranma sang out. "My name is Saotome Ranma! I previously attended Furinkan – and yes the rumors are mostly true. I enjoy martial arts and ice cream. Pleased ta meet'cha."

A somewhat hesitant greeting was returned, though two figures were clearly heard. Seeing them finally, Ranma smirked and waved. "Mission accomplished," she mused. It wasn't like she could fit in for long anyway, so best to get the weird out and up front early.

"Alright, Saotome-san, if you would please sit beside... Hijiro-san. Yes. Hijiro-san, please assist Saotome-san today, if you would."

"Yes, Sensei."

Spotting the speaker – a sharp-eyed and attentive young woman who would have reminded Ranma of Nabiki if she smiled more, the redhead made a short path to her seat. Smiling at the young woman, Ranma noted her class rank pin, and one beside it denoting her as the class representative. "Thanks for watching over me, Hijiro-san," Ranma offered with her usual grin.

"Just Konoe, unless you need me as class rep," the other girl replied, shooting Ranma a slow smile. "Anything you need, so far?"

Ranma shook her head, her braid escaping to drape over a shoulder. "Nah, I'm good. Unless you know a good place to get some peace and quiet later for lunch. Not up for the usual interrogation, if you get my drift."

Konoe regarded the new girl for a long moment, before her smile turned a bit more genuine. "You're a troublemaker. But I like you. Just follow me at lunch, I'll show you a good spot."
Her lazy grin escalating into a full-blown smile, Ranma laughed quietly. "Ah, figured me out already. And thanks, I appreciate it."

Remarkably, the desire to prove her father wrong and impress her mother translated into a good effort – if badly executed, by one Ranma Saotome. Having very little in the way of good note-taking skills yet – her tutors had to really cram the backlog down her throat – or a grasp of the current material being covered, she took to keeping an eye on her book, an ear on the teacher, and her hand moving as fast as possible taking notes, on anything not present in her texts. An occasional sweep of the chalkboard was made every so often, to make sure nothing was missed.

This resulted in some wide eyes, and a few whispered questions, considering Ranma's hand was moving too fast to make out other than a blur. Ranma quietly thanked whoever came up with Martial Arts Calligraphy – she knew the friction-reduced paper and non-flammable ink would come in handy, some day. Sparing the rest of the class a brief look during a point when the teacher checked his own material, she noted quite a bit less note-taking was going on that what she was doing. Sending a sulky frown at the blonde two rows away, she was met with a slight smirk and shrug.

"Good tutors, lousy sense of humor," Ranma groused, though her mood was still light. When the break for the next class began, she was up and slipping through the people coming to speak to her before most knew she'd moved, leaving half the class blinking at a suddenly empty desk.

Slipping up beside an unwary mop of styled blonde hair, Ranma reached around and pulled at the other student's cheeks. "Ne, Ha-ru-ka-san," she sing-songed, while her target flailed in surprise. "You seem to have forgotten note-taking in my lessons."

Michiru giggled from her seat to Haruka's left, quietly amused at her lover's ill-fortune. "But Ranma, you were so eager to work with little Hotaru, we ran out of time."

"Oi, leggo tomboy!" The irony of that demand from Haruka Tenou of all people left the other two snickering, until finally Ranma just fell over from laughter. Patting her abused face, the blonde turned in her chair, shooting a glare to the redhead behind her. "You're lucky you're so good at martial arts, or I'd work you over, brat."

Ranma displayed her maturity by sticking her tongue out at the other male-uniformed girl with a loud 'Bidaaaaaa'. Hopping back to her feet, the redhead dusted herself off. "So, how is Taru-chan?"

"She's well," Michiru answered, a calm smile spreading over her face. "And she misses her Ranma-sensei. Setsuna is taking up getting her around, while we finish our last year here as well."

"Oh, right that Mugen place blew up, didn't it?"

Haruka and Michiru spared one another an amused look. "More or less," the blonde replied. "Turns out our college applications still had us as incomplete. So were back to do exams and finish up," poking the redhead in the shoulder, Haruka smirked. "But we told you about that. Get knocked about the head once too often, tomboy?"

Ranma swatted the hand away, rolling her eyes. "Nah, just assumed you'd be goin' to a prep school, or cram school." Sighting the clock, she sent the two girls a little wave. "Gonna go sit down, I'll see you two after school, yeah?"

"Sure, you're coming over this afternoon?"

Shaking her head at Michiru's question, Ranma replied, "Nah, first day. Mom'd skin me if I didn't get home and report in. Tell Suna and Taru-chan that I said hi, though." The two older students waved as Ranma settled back in her seat. Haruka couldn't help but snicker, thinking back on the stunned look on Setsuna's face at Ranma's pet-name for her. It was so rare that the elder Senshi got rattled that Michiru had managed to snap a picture, commemorating the event.

Ranma had obliged by adding to the situation, sneaking behind the typically unflappable Setsuna and giving her a pair of rabbit-ears, to boot.

"Certainly never a dull moment, when she's around," Michiru quipped, mirroring her companion's thoughts.

–

Lunch had come and gone, much to Ranma's regret, and she'd followed Konoe Hijiro to where she'd promised a quiet spot to be. It just happened to be a tree nearby a small table, occupied by Hijiro's friends. Understanding the unstated invitation, Ranma had introduced herself, and made smalltalk while covertly sampling some other girl's bentos.

Mom had only packed one, after all.

Michiru and Haruka had come by for a moment, just to say hello, and Ranma accidentally displayed a fraction of her martial prowess, leaping up and backwards over Haruka from her seat, to avoid a retaliatory strike from the blonde for earlier in the day. That would have been bad enough, but she'd kept her bento, and continued eating while dodging the smirking blonde. After seeing the two girls who had mentioned sports interests eying her like a delicious slice of cake, Ranma realized she'd been set up. The look on the blonde's face only confirmed her suspicions.

Adopting a pose she had called "Curse of the Demon Monkey" (head slightly tilted back, eyes wide, arm outstretched while pointing to the target who was at an angle from the body...), Ranma silently promised her vengeance. School sports would be annoying enough, at her level – dodging their recruiters would be a nightmare!

Hotaru had asked why she given such a silly name to pointing angrily at someone, and Ranma had promised to get a video of her father performing the "Carp on a Chopping Board" submission posture some day as way of explanation. For the time being, she'd just explained that her style of martial arts had a tradition of silly names.

It was with these thoughts in mind that Ranma found herself humming happily beside a serenely pleased Nodoka, walking back home after her first day. "I'm so proud of you, Ranma. No trouble at all!"

"Awe, you had to go and jinx me, didn't ya," the younger redhead muttered.

"Watch your speech, Ranma," Nodoka chided. "But yes, I do understand it likely won't last. That is something I wanted to speak with you about."

A familiar sense of foreboding swept over the young martial artist. "Oh?"

The elder Saotome woman nodded. "I understand that your honor and the way of Musabetsu Kakutō Ryū, won't allow you to decline a formal challenge. From now on, I want you to work on avoiding conflict at school, if possible."

"But what if they challenge me there?" Ranma asked, confused.

"Try to emphasize how important it is to formally challenge you, with a set time, place, and in writing. I've been scouting out places for such challenges today.

"For small informal matches, we can of course use the house yard. If you can restrict the combat to only physical means, this would be best. Formal ones can held in aunt Reiko's son's Dojo. For more... drastic challenges, there is an empty lot two blocks from home that I believe will be placed under construction come winter. After that, you may need another.

"And in the event you need to use your... other form... please try to do so either very quickly, and then get very far from where you were, or take it somewhere outside of Minato. Far outside, if possible."

Ranma blinked at the small deluge of information, pausing in her walk at the last few words. "Um, why? I mean I know this isn't Nerima and that... well I'm a bit scary like that, but..."

Nodoka turned, pulling her child gently into a small nearby cafe. Taking a seat, they gave the waitress their orders and waited for soup and drinks to be delivered. "For one," the elder Saotome explained, "You are most correct. This is not Nerima, and the police here are rather strict. A match with someone like Ryoga, out in the open may get either or both of you shot, law suits for damages set against you, and criminal charges filed," she explained, the venom dripping from her voice at the mention of the Lost Boy. Quieter, she continued. "Then, of course, there are the Senshi."

The cup of soup paused, halfway to Ranma's mouth. "The... you mean they're real?"

"Oh, yes. I've seen them twice myself, since living near Juuban."

"Huh," Ranma mumbled, bending her mind around the pop culture sensation that the Senshi had sparked. Since she was going to a Juuban High School, it may do her some good to get familiar with the rumors, the redhead mused. No sense sticking out like an uninformed moron, after all. Another thought occurred to her, and Ranma immediately brightened. "So, then all the talk of monsters out here is real?"

"Ranma," her mother warned with a hand up to keep her child quiet. "Do not take those things lightly. What you do, what we're training you to take on, and what the Senshi do are in no way similar. Don't make me grieve you again, this time over foolish pride."

Chided, Ranma nodded, "I got it, mom."

Nodoka smirked, a familiar expression between the two. "Now, I make no illusions on knowing you will at some point come across either the Senshi or their enemies. I know your luck too well... daughter," she reasoned, still hesitant to use the feminine term for her child, however. "Just if you do so, please! Please do not reveal your other form. They will likely not speak first before attacking, and I don't know what could happen to you."

Now that, Ranma allowed, was a good thing to think about. The last thing she really needed while here and starting over was a mob of magically enhanced girls in short skirts trying to zap her with spells. Even if they did have really, really dumb sounding spells. "I'll be careful, mom. Uh, does that mean...?"

"Yes, no more practicing in that form at home, I'm afraid. Weekend trips will have to do."

"Damn."

Nodoka frowned, bopping the younger woman with her spoon. "Language, Ranma."
"Sorry, mom."

Nodding, the older woman paused, expression showing her thoughts. "Now, that is an idea... hmm. Perhaps I have an alternative, but I'll need a bit of time to speak with Ge-," she coughed, apparently choking on something. "Er, that is, someone about it."

Ranma blinked at the obvious lie, letting it pass. Wow, did she get that from her mother too?

–

The following day she was surprised to see her father waiting at home, while her mother sat off to the side slightly, the ceremonial Saotome blade laid across her lap. "So... Ranma," the older man bit out uncomfortably, eying his estranged wife anxiously. "Come outside with me, for a moment."

Ranma shot her mother a look, and she returned a nod. Looking back to the man who had caused her so much pain and strife, Ranma motioned toward the back patio and attached yard.

As most conversations between the two began, it did so with fists. Ranma remained both female and unperturbed by her father's jibes, which oddly, made the old man smile quietly. Their contest went significantly longer than usual, as the usual 'finish line' present at the Tendo home was not, at Ranma's new home. Without a pond to kick one another into, the match went on until one of the other gave in. In an act of foreshadowing, Genma slipped from Ranma's awareness, causing a brief moment of confusion, before the redhead hissed with annoyance, dropping to her stomach quickly to avoid the Umisenken's debilitating Haku Dato Shin Shō – the White Snake Venom Reliable Fist. Rather than the rapid ki-enhanced strikes she'd been expecting at her back, Genma came back into view in a neutral posture in the same place he'd disappeared, as Ranma kipped back up with a defensive whirling roundhouse. Seeing her father a few steps away waiting patiently, Ranma blinked, then took a matching loose stance.

"So, what's on your mind Pops?"

By mutual agreement, their spar was over and it was clear Ranma had improved further, Genma noted. Oh, there were no new techniques, but she was smoother, his transitions and changes in movement more fluid and instant. She'd stopped thinking the Art, and was becoming the Art more, daily. Genma was pleased and nostalgic of old times, if somewhat bitter that he'd not seen the beginning of this change in his estranged son. Not the only change, either, he amended silently, noting the... girl's ease at compensating for the lost strength with a matching boost in speed. "I've reconsidered a decision."

Ranma was too pragmatic to think the old man was talking about the engagement regardless of how the reality of it all was changing, so just stood by the tree she'd adopted as a place to sit, leaning back idly against it as a silent dare to restart their spar. It wasn't often she got to fight anyone with real talent and skill anymore, since moving to the Shinjuku-Minato area, and she hoped to continue after their chat. "Which one?"

"I want you to improve the sealed styles."

There was a long silence between them, before Ranma took a deep breath. Her sigh ruffled the bangs hanging across her eyes. "Why? I mean, you sealed them because they're dangerous. Most any of the techniques can kill someone who's not trained for years."

Genma nodded solemnly. "You are my heir, Ranma, and beyond the framework that defines Anything Goes, those styles are ours. As with the Art itself, I want you to take and improve them, making them yours. Make what changes you want – add and remove as you see fit."

Ranma nearly staggered where she stood, at that. This was a very big deal... her father was basically writing her a blank check to do whatever she liked with the techniques he had created. That made her wary. The old man never did anything without a motive. "What's the catch?" Ranma asked.

With a resigned expression, Genma merely shook his head. "Consider it a... coming of age present. You've proven to be honorable in combat above and beyond anything I've tried to do. A year ago you proved that, only resorting to a killing blow to save another while knowing the styles." Ranma managed not to flinch at that, though it was a work of will. "If for no other reason, I think that proves you worthy to take on the ideas behind the scrolls and make something more out of them."

Tilting her head slightly, the redhead noted the slight drawing-aside of one of the blinds, as well as her father's furtive glances that way. Putting the pieces together, she shook her head. "...So mom bullied you into it?"

Genma's eye twitched as he slumped in place. "The woman is a... formidable opponent."

Ranma nodded, understanding her father's intent, and quietly grateful for her mother's interference. This would do a lot to cut down on her anxiety about monster attacks, as well as give her an edge since she wasn't born female to train with her mother in her family style. If she didn't need to rely on her other form, then likely the Senshi wouldn't take pot-shots at her for fun. The excuse to show Genma was worried about her warmed her as well. They might get along very badly, but she was still the old man's child – these small moments were all Ranma knew, after all.

With a grin, Ranma nodded, mind already whirring with possibilities. "I get it. Alright, I'll do it. I know we don't see eye to eye on a lot, Pop, but this is the Art. This we get each other on."

"Indeed, Bo... Ranma. Now, less talk."

And the sparring resumed.

–

A month after school had began found a curious scene, in the neighboring ward to both Minato and Shinjuku – Chiyoda, home to the Diet building and no small number of cultural landmarks, was also home to the target of a number of young women.

To her chagrin, Ranma Saotome was among them. "C'mon guys, I really don't need ta go to Akihabara too!"

Hotaru Tomoe looked up to her recent idol with wide eyes. "But, Sensei..."

Ranma drew back at the little girl's wide-misty-eyes attack. "You know," she muttered to herself, "you'd think I'd be immune ta that, as often as I do it."

"What was that, Sensei?"

"N-Nothin'," Ranma replied, wincing as her mother arched a brow. "Right. Talk proper, sorry mom."

Nodoka grinned slightly. "You slip sometimes when you're flustered. But there's no need to be – we're just accompanying little Hotaru's guardians, while they let her shop a bit. You and I are going to a little shop there to pick up a few things, but otherwise this isn't nearly as bad as you're making it out to be."

Haruka slung an arm around the redhead's shoulders, ignoring her suddenly stiff posture. "Yeah, lighten up, Ojou," she drawled, before getting elbowed in the ribs.

"'Young Miss', my foot," Ranma groused with a roll of her eyes. Turning back to Nodoka, she asked the question on her mind, "So, what did you wanna take a look at?"

"A new disc-player and possibly an entertainment system," she replied, blinking at the odd looks she was getting. "What?"

Ranma shook her head hard. "Nothin'. Just... that's so normal it surprised me."

A musical laugh signaled Michiru's amusement. "You sound like there's hardly a normal day in your lives." The civilian Senshi missed the veiled looks the two Saotome women shared.

"Perhaps we could make a side trip to Harajuku?" The Meiou household nodded in agreement to Setsuna's idea. Clothes shopping was always a good reason for a side-trip. Besides, they were all well aware of the elder Senshi's hobby with fashion.

Nodoka shot Ranma a warning look before answering. "I think that sounds marvelous. Ranma needs a little expanding on her wardrobe."

"Say mom, Pops wanted me to work on those-"

"If you 'fade' during this trip, I'm cutting off your soap and kettle privileges," Ranma's mother added in a deceptively light tone. Getting the point – her mother would hide her limited supply of waterproof soap and ground her from the hot water – Ranma wisely clammed up. Not that she'd use the initial stage of the Umisenken just to get out of shopping.

Really.

The trip had gone surprisingly well, with Setsuna along. The moderating presence of the college-age woman kept the younger members of the Meiou household from harassing Ranma too much, while also giving them the 'right' kind of advice when clothes shopping.

To Ranma, it was maybe... just maybe a little fun. She was allowed to try on her own styles, got actual critique for it, and even some tasteful suggestions for a few 'girly' items – not that she called them that. Her mother's time hammering her vocabulary and speech patterns into something reasonable had decent results, after all. "Mm, no. Too many frills, and that ribbon is too much. Way too feminine for my taste, Suna-chan."

Setsuna nodded, taking in Ranma's figure for a moment. "It's a pity you dislike most dresses. They would accent your body rather well, if the ensemble was done properly," she assessed with quiet focus. Almost absently she added, "And don't call me that."

Ranma blushed slightly at the compliment, suddenly curious. She respected Setsuna a lot, considering all she did to help with the school, her family, and still managed to have time for her friends and a social life. She was also rather pretty. "Hmm. Well. If you can find a dress that doesn't..."

"Push at your style?"

"Yeah, that works. If you can find one, I'll give it a try."

Taking up the challenge, Setsuna grinned. "Just give me a few minutes."

Ranma was pleasantly surprised when a smiling Setsuna – a rarity even at her own home – showed up with a few small selections over an arm. Off to the side, the rest of the shopping party watched in a slight daze as someone managed to get the two immovable objects in motion – Ranma's feminine fashion appreciation, and Setsuna's smile.

"This is what's commonly called a cocktail dress," Setsuna indicated a slinky black and white number that she hung on a nearby hook. "Simple design that gets changed a lot. I recall you don't like being eyed a lot when I've seen you out with your mother, or my roommates, so I picked out a longer one, that's flattering, but has a ruffled drape on the front."

"Ruffled what?"

Setsuna grinned wryly. "There's a bit of material that'll offset your bustline and make it seem less... pronounced."

Ranma nodded happily at that. Guys did tend to oogle her boobs far too much for her taste. That was part of why she didn't go in for high fashion, for general use. She didn't want that kind of attention – not to mention the mobility loss. Speaking of... "Part of why I don't like dresses is that I can't move. How low's the skirt, and how loose?"

As if she'd expected that question, Setsuna pointed out various points on the dress. "For one, there aren't any sleeves. Free mobility there. The skirt is knee-length, but slit on the sides with a pleat-gather at the top. Rather than flare, the pleat keeps the slit 'closed', unless you're opening your stride."

"Ok, I like it so far. What's next," Ranma replied, taking the black and white article and putting it in her dressing room pile.

Setsuna held up a familiar cut of clothing. "Thigh-length Cheongsam in black with a red and gold tiger pattern, embroidered over the back and across the left breast," she described, tilting this way and that so Ranma could see the pattern. "Slit again, so you can move. More fitting with your usual image, I think. You do wear a Chinese Tangzhuang very well, and this is more or less the feminine version."

It was a much fancier and more tasteful version of Shampoo's usual outfit, Ranma noted, minus the pants. The neckline was very high, literally up to her neck, while the sleeves were again missing. The dress went as said, to mid-thigh, and Ranma noted how sleek the dress would be on her frame, accenting every curve. She noted two things in Setsuna's hands, and asked about them.

"Miko sleeves," the green-haired woman explained. "They're detached, and tie around where your bicep goes. More for effect, than coverage. You get the exposed shoulder, while keeping the flair."

Ranma appraised the outfit, before nodding again. "I like it. Dunno about the sleeves, but I'll give 'em a try."

"I think you'll like them," Setsuna offered with a beaming smile. "Last but not least – the halter dress," she announced, pulling another selection forward. "This one only came in white. It's low-cut across the back, but widens to a collar at the top. The front is sloped, crossing your collarbones, giving a good view of shoulder. This one's just above the knee, without the slit gathers. The cut keeps it trim."

"I'm beginning to see a trend here," Ranma drawled, noting another dress without sleeves.

Setsuna understood her meaning well enough. "You have magnificent shoulders and arms for your activity level. Rather than become overly-muscular and... well grotesque, you keep it to tone and form. These dresses also pull the eye from danger zones, though when they are noted, it's flattering," the fashion hobbyist explained with a serene smile. "The skirts do the same with the waist. With a pair of low heels, your calves will pull the eye in, rather than your rear."

"What, and deprive the audience from seeing the best child-bearing hips in Japan?" Ranma smirked, throwing a sway into her walk that would have done a runway model proud. "Alright, Suna-chan. I'm sold. And I know you well enough to know those are all perfect fits, or damn close to it."

With a hopeful look on her face, Setsuna offered, "Well, if you want, stay around after we're back and I can do a few fine alterations. I have good hands, as well as a decent eye."

From the sidelines, Haruka and Michiru blinked in odd synchronicity. Leaning close to her lover, Haruka whispered, "Is... is Setsuna flirting?"

Michiru shook her head in confusion. "I don't know. Maybe? That last line was almost blatant enough for even Ranma to get it." Pausing, the aqua-haired woman hummed. "I don't think so, though. I think she's just caught in her particular zone, as it is."

It was almost a look of disappointment that Haruka affected at that. "Ah well. Say, Taru-chan, what do you think?"

The younger – if mentally mature – woman nodded, her bob of dark purple hair swaying to brush her chin. "Setsuna-mama's picked out some things I think Sensei will actually wear." Her eyes widened, a smile spreading across her face. "You think she'll let us see?"

Nodoka chuckled quietly. "Knowing Miss Meiou, I don't think Ranma will have a choice."

As it turned out, Ranma ended up walking out of the store in a green halter dress that Setsuna picked out for her, her other clothes discreetly pushed into ki-space. The issue of undergarments wasn't one – after spending a solid month as a female, Ranma had been a quick convert. That wasn't an easy time for her, however, as unlike a normal young woman, Ranma had little preparation for her body's cycle. Nor did she have the gentle build of hormones that most experienced, as she got the 'crash course' in being female all at once.

She'd just missed it with the Cat-Tongue incident, as it turned out. Though it had taken quite a lot of arguing, discussion, and finally a few days of demonstration, Ranma had given in and decided that with her activity level, pads just weren't cutting it. It still perturbed her having something just sitting in such an intimate place, but the alternative and possible embarrassment were much worse in her mind.

Ranma's mother just sat back and grinned, as her recently realized daughter took one more step toward womanhood. Her son took a step as well, for the day when he'd return to her – one in understanding the fairer sex.

The mood had been so light and pleasant, that it was more than a little jarring when the redhead the group was following froze up just outside the shop, muttering only one word in an arctic tone. "Akane."

Nodoka's face went ashen. "Oh no, not here... not now." The off-duty Senshi spared one another hesitant looks, while their friend and teacher moved forward slowly, putting some distance between herself and the women behind her.

"Ranma," the answering voice was filled with quiet venom. There was a pause, as a short haired girl with a fixed scowl tried to stare the Senshi down. She failed, miserably. Recouping her anger, Akane struck out again. "I see you've wasted no time collecting more hussies to chase after."

"Don't be stupid," Ranma snapped, her posture thawing, angry now. It was jarring to those that knew her, having never seen the redhead's mood shift in such a way. "These are my friends. I'm out with my mother, you idiot tomboy."

Akane faintly vibrated with anger. "Don't call me that," she hissed.

Hotaru tugged on Nodoka's sleeve, getting the older woman's attention. Looking away from the impending disaster took more than a little willpower, however, and she was slow to look down into the questioning eyes of her youngest friend. Absently, she inquired, "Yes, Taru-chan? What is it?"

"Who's the angry lady? Why is she angry at Sensei?"

"I..." shaking her head slowly, Nodoka slumped. "I don't know, little one. I don't know why Akane is so angry, now. I thought this was well behind us."

Haruka stood forward, Setsuna beside her, unconsciously putting more screen between the obviously upcoming fight and their less sturdy companions. "That's... interesting and all, but who is she?"

"Ranma's former fiancee," Nodoka whispered hoarsely.

Back with the former couple, things were not going well. People were unconsciously making room, clearing as much space as they could on the busy sidewalks. Even drivers in their cars seemed to sense something was wrong, giving the two angry young women a wide margin. "You don't got the right to question me anymore, Tendo," Ranma pointed out, her voice glacial. "So don't come up to me and start your usual brand of stupid."

Stepping up beside her furious sister, Nabiki shot Ranma a withering look. "C'mon sis, he isn't worth it."

"Funny coming from an extortionist who paid her college funds offa me," Ranma snarled, her aura flaring wildly around her. Years of pent up anger and resentment were breaking loose, coming undone in minutes within the redheaded martial artist. After six months of peace and relative calm, the sharp contrast that her previous life had been cut like a serrated blade against her calm.

Nabiki froze, feeling for the first time the amount of threat one of the fighters from Nerima could muster aimed directly at her. Knowing well what Ranma could do to a seasoned practitioner of the Art, she quailed and backed away, knowing well enough she'd put up about as much of a fight as a week-old kitten. To her shame, she couldn't meet the angry Saotome's eyes as she backed up to the sidewalk, across the way as she abandoned her sister.

Ranma returned her attention to the youngest Tendo, who was looking back at her sister incredulously. "So, what's it gonna be, tomboy?" She asked, before a feral light lit in her eyes. "Oh, how about this – I challenge you! Here, in public. Lets see if your daddy's-girl ego can stand up to the test."

Akane blanched, the amount of sheer anger and hate rolling off Ranma building a flickering aura around her. To her further anxiety, a heat shimmer seemed to be shifting behind her former fiance. Recalling the reason why Ranma was no longer her betrothed, Akane backed up a step, "N-No, I don't-"

"Unacceptable!" Ranma barked, ki laced through her voice. Akane's back straightened out of instinct. "The third tenet of Musabetsu Kakutō Ryū, 'You must accept any and all formal challenges!'. Either accept the challenge, or forfeit your claim to be part of the School!"

Looking wildly around her, Akane saw no help. No one to bail her out – and then the realization hit her like she imagined she'd been feeling at her ex's hands shortly. Ranma was the one always coming to her rescue. Sure, she'd had a few adventures of her own, and one had nearly cost her dearly recently, but she always managed. Now, however, a real threat was there... and this time there wasn't anyone to save her. Anger and pride welled up in the youngest Tendo, and she glared back at Ranma. She could do this – Ranma wasn't so tough. She could always get him when she meant to, when he'd been a pervert, or done something to make her angry. That was it – right! He wasn't all that good. She could do this.

"Fine," Akane casually accepted, dropping into a ready stance. "Terms?"

Ranma's grin became sharklike. "I'm sick o'people claimin' to be part of the Musabetsu Kakutō Ryū, offa my reputation for it. So lets make this really good. If I loose, I give up the Art."

Akane's pupils narrowed to pinpricks. 'He was serious! Give up the Art?! He'd rather die...' Shaking off her anxiety, Akane nodded. "Fine. And if I lose-"

"You do the same," Ranma interrupted, her toothy grin never wavering.

Nodoka stepped forward, her face serious. "Are you two sure of this?"

A frisson of worry crept up Akane's spine, but her anger and pride shrugged it away. "Yeah, it's fine. Who's our judge?"

"I will be," Nodoka murmured, "there's no one else qualified nearby."

Akane eyed the woman critically. "Yeah, you're his mother. You sure you can be fair?"

"Do you want two challengers today, Tendo?" Nodoka snapped, jolting the girl. "Question my honor again, and mine will be with live steel, you honorless little-" she cut off, as Ranma clamped a hand over her arm, shaking her head.

Reeling from the sudden anger that Nodoka had lashed out with, Akane began to have doubts. 'What did I get myself into? I should have just walked by. There wasn't any reason for me to call him out...'

'You wanted to make him feel as bad as you did. You hated to see him smiling, and you wanted to erase that,' a snide voice in her head replied to her own rather thin regret.

Akane wondered, as she dropped into a stance, 'Am I really so petty?' Silence answered the obvious question.

Nodoka took her place, as the two young women stood ready. Hotaru took that moment to speed out and grab onto Ranma's arm, pulling her down. The younger girl pushed a kiss onto Ranma's cheek, grinning happily, "For luck!" She chirped, running back to where Setsuna waited with an expression of deadly calm.

As Nodoka announced the match start, Akane sneered, "A little young for you? Oh, never mind – I should know a pervert like you would be into that."

"Wrong answer," Ranma growled, dropping her usual tactic of drawing an attacker in, going full into offense immediately. A cold grin swept across her features, as she roared, "Freeze!" in a ki-drenched voice.

Predictably, Akane's body locked up, as the Yamasenken's opening technique slammed into her like paralytic venom. She had enough time to mutter a faint "Wha...?" before Ranma was on her.

"Mōko Kaimon Ha," the redhead growled, transferring all her momentum into a wickedly harsh forward kick after knocking Akane's feeble block aside. The youngest Tendo bent around the kick, before inertia reasserted itself, throwing the young woman back across the street in an uncontrolled skid.

From her place behind a nearby table, Nabiki went deathly pale. She remembered Ryū Kamon, and the Yamasenken from when Ranma had to train against it. That he would first go on an immediate offense, then do so this way... "Oh little sis, I hope you come out of this in better shape than Ryoga did."

From her vantage in a world of pain, Akane could only gasp and try to get her breathing back under control. Ancestors, that had hurt! What the hell was Ranma thinking, opening up like that? A glance up through watery eyes told her volumes of what her former fiance was thinking, as she met storm-blue eyes. Anger, betrayal, hate, loss... Akane swallowed and looked away.

"That was just ta let you know I'm serious," Ranma ground out between clenched teeth. The urge to run up and continue her attack on Akane while down was something she could practically taste. She wanted it. She wanted it so bad, to repay all the pain she'd felt for over two years.

That would make her no better than Akane.

She was definitely better than Akane.

So instead, she put her thoughts out on the table. "Six months, Akane. Six months ta think about what I'd say, when this happened. And oh, I knew one day it would.

"I trusted you. I fought for you. I put up with your jealousy, your pride, your misplaced shame... all of it." Snarling, Ranma fought back the tears, "I gave up everything for you, you stupid... argh! An' what do you do? You fucking screw that.. that... " throwing her hands up, Ranma screamed, a sickly red-shot green blast rocketing away from her into the clear blue above. Almost as an afterthought she muttered a faint "Shishi Hōkōdan," before returning her now-dulled glare back to her former fiancee.

"You never did anything to make me feel special," Akane quietly accused. "You always let those girls hang off you, never really pushed them away. I always felt like you were just one step away from throwing me aside." Ranma's anger cooled, but she didn't drop her posture, as Akane kept speaking, as she rose. She didn't hesitate – leading in fast and hard, she snapped out a combination of kicks and punches at blinding speed. Blinding to anyone but Ranma. Frustration built up as Akane continued to fail to push her former fiance to even block. "Hell, you did everything you could to make me feel like dirt, you jerk. All the insults, mocking me, never taking me seriously!"

"There's nothin' serious about you," Ranma sneered, reaching through Akane's stance, before bending her double over a knee that cracked ribs. She continued with her momentum, walking away with her back turned to the now-gasping Tendo. "You asked ta be my friend, then less than an hour later, insulted me in the worst way possible," Ranma replied, eyes still dull. "You know what kinda things I saw on the road, Tendo? There's a reason our School has a rule ta protect the weak. I've seen what that kind of person does to others. Real perverts. But ya know what? You're just an ignorant little bitch. Nothin' more. A daddy's girl with no idea what the world is actually like." She met Akane's pained eyes with a glare that would have sheared steel. "We needed to eat, out on the road. Eventually, Pops ran outta options, and made me work security at some whorehouses when we were out there-"

"Bet you enjoyed that, you pe-"

"Shut up!" Ranma roared, stomping her foot hard enough to crack the pavement, sending up debris she sent hurtling at Akane in a flurry of punches. "Don't you fuckin' dare! I saw what scum like that did to people! I saw what kinda shit men did, women did, just to get off. You fuckin' don't know me, Tendo. You don't know a damn thing!"

Akane cried out, as the hundreds of pieces of broken concrete slammed into her crossed arms, ripping cuts and embedding in her skin. 'I never knew,' she kept repeating inside her mind. Sure, she'd seen the flash of hatred in Ranma's eyes when long ago she'd called him that, but he was a boy. Boys were perverts.

Right?

Bleary-eyed from pained tears, Akane started circling the other girl, surreptitiously picking her arms clear of the debris she'd been attacked with. She'd been on the defensive since their match began, and it looked... bad. Akane's pride couldn't stand in the face of all that Ranma had done. Sure, she seemed to be able to hit him, strike him with a mallet, or a table whenever she felt the need to, but this was really different. Ranma, she realized with a sudden sharp fear, wasn't playing around anymore. Still, she wouldn't just sit back and let him claim whatever he wanted. Again she tried to close the distance, using what instinct she had for ki to form her old standby. The mallet sped through the air, "So, what did it mean when you snuck in my room, huh? What was that?" It missed – worse, Ranma just slapped it away, the ki shattering like so much thin glass.

Ranma seemed to waver a moment at her question, before snarling. "I only did that when your damn pig was there. Somethin' even a stupid tomboy like you should have figured out, by now," the redhead bit out, circling Akane as well, her stance never settling in her fluid half-kata. As Akane blinked at her now-bleeding hands where the ki-construct had shattered, she tried to come to grips with what just happened. He... he destroyed it. He could have done that any time, couldn't he? What the hell...?!

Her mind refused to settle on that. She couldn't lose! Not to him! "What do you have against P-chan?! It makes no sense!"

"Oh come on, Akane! How many times have I called Ryoga names, havin' to do with pigs? How many times have we found either him or that damn pig around, just after losing the other? Did you miss the fact he claimed to have gotten cursed at Jusenkyo, too? How about how he's always tryin' to screw with whatever cures we found?"

Akane's mouth worked silently for a moment, as her brain finally slid the pieces together. And when she saw the full picture, her body rebelled, as bile rose in her throat. "Oh... oh god. I... I told him everything! He slept in the same bed..."

"An' who do you think he took all that back to, huh? Who was it, when he started throwin' all your secrets around, you blamed for it? Every damn time, Akane! Every. Damn. Time! You picked him over me. Hell, when I found you fuckin' the little pig, I was almost disappointed. I'd been expectin' it for months, by then."

The accusation ran fire through her veins. He'd thought that little of her? How dare he! Her attempts to hit her former betrothed grew wild, unmeasured. She stumbled as often as she was thrown, and knew this wasn't going to end well. Still, she'd not take his words lying down. Two could play that game, "Well screw you, Ranma! What about your Chinese floozy? What about your 'cute fiancee', Ucchan? Bet you've done the same."

"You're a real piece o'work," Ranma mused with a derisive laugh, taking a feint and wrenching Akane's arm out of socket almost idly. She screamed, but cut off quickly when the redhead spun her around by that arm, brutally dragging her into the ground. The momentum painfully continued, robbing her of breath. Worse, Ranma pushed a foot behind her head, and ground the broken pavement across her face. Above her sudden world made of what felt like broken glass, Ranma's words seemed chipped from ice. "If I screwed Shampoo, I'd have already been back in China. I never touched her willingly, which is why she always latched on ta me. If I pushed her off, where'd I push? See it now, tomboy? That stupid Kiss is like all their laws – they work for them, and them alone.

"And Ucchan..." Ranma laughed openly this time, simply tossing her battered body aside. "I grew up thinkin' she was a boy, Akane! When I called her cute, it was more ta say she made a lousy boy, not a pretty girl! Ucchan's my best friend, but that's it." Ranma gagged a moment, shaking herself. "I'd be like kissin' my sister!"

"Then why'd you string them along?" Akane asked wearily, hands shaking as they came back bloody from her face. 'Dear god, did he hate me that much...?'

"What was I supposed ta do? Shampoo's laws say she either comes back with me, or she gets the next step for bein' a failure. Curse locked, Akane. Think about it. How'd you like to be a damn animal till you die? How'd you like ta be the one to cause it to someone else?

"And as for Ucchan, look at Pops. He's the one that screwed her life up, but I get to come along and fix it. Rejectin' her puts her dad in a tight spot, that ends with a blood-feud between us. And I ain't gonna kill Ucchan!"

Akane faltered, never having seen things from Ranma's point of view, before. Why hadn't he just explained this? 'Like you'd let him,' her traitorous conscious reminded her. 'You never gave him the chance. It took him beating you down in the street to make you listen.'

"What about me?" She asked finally, quietly.

Ranma gaped at her. "What about you? You miss me sayin' you betrayed me within an hour of meetin' ya? I gave you so many damn chances, that it just became habit to deal with you and your damn temper. Sure I was a jerk, but if I ain't teasin' ya, I don't even consider ya worth my time. But I held on thinkin' one day – one day, you'd look back at me like I was lookin' up at you."

"Ranma..."

Shaking her head, Ranma refused to let the quiet way Akane said her name get to her. "All over now. I'm done with that part o'my life. An' we got a match ta finish," she reminded Akane, her eyes closing down revealing only arctic cold.

And suddenly Akane didn't want to fight anymore. "No," she replied hollowly, "no more, Ranma. I'm done fighting with you." The redhead's face was an open book of confusion. "I give up, Ranma. You win."

Stunned, Ranma's mouth worked silently for a moment, as she tried to piece together some kind of response. She wasn't done! There was more she had to say – a lot more! The chance was stolen, as something huge and terrible and reeking of the sea ripped its way out of the street, sending slabs of pavement flying in all directions.

Time seemed to slow down, as Ranma saw one of those sections – one carrying Akane – go careening into a nearby building, cracking as it impacted the side with a bass rumble. As it hit with the side where Akane was, just a moment before.

Where Akane was...

Where was Akane...?

Ranma's eyes refused to fix on the red stain on the side of the building. She refused to see it. Refused. Refused! REFUSED!

Instead, she looked back at the thing that had come.

–

"Selene," Setsuna breathed, her eyes wide. "A Broken One. Why is there a Broken One here!?"

The other Senshi looked around for a place to shift into their transformed states, but paused as Hotaru gasped. "Sensei!"

Nodoka was not one to be outdone. "Son, no! Run!"

–

Ranma couldn't hear them. Not right now, when all her world revolved around hurt and anger and rage.

And she could feel the magic in her soul singing, trying to claw its way up through her heart, into her brain like viscous oil that would seep and curl around all her private places. All the things that were her, making her something else.

She didn't need it. She refused it.

Just like she refused the thing shambling towards her, in the street. First though, she had people to protect. Then she could... she could...

She'd know when the time came.

–

When Ranma suddenly faded from view, the onlookers – her friends and Nabiki – began to panic. It wasn't that they expected Ranma to simply stand there and protect them, so much as the fact that the redhead was at least a sane thing to focus on. Without her there, the true horror of the thing before them was apparent.

It stood easily three meters tall, and with its hunched posture, could probably nearly double it, were it to stand erect on its misshapen back legs. All six of its limbs were webbed, knobby, and covered in a slime of wetness over rubbery looking skin. The thing's body was a grotesque amalgam of skeletal emaciation, tentacles, and bulging, pulsing pustules that promised disease and rot. If anything, the head was even more terrible, as it looked as if that rubbery skin had been stretched over a mockery of a human face, leaving no features... but that face was only part of the madness there. It was fixed upon the thing's forehead, as if in afterthought in its creation. Below that horrid mockery, three eyes rolled in sockets that seemed stolen from a chameleon, and sat on either side of a muzzle that seemed to only be made for ripping and tearing. No lips contained those teeth, and little flesh was spared to contain the massive maw, ringed by more grasping ropes of flesh that writhed with a seeming mind of their own.

With its previous prey suddenly disappearing, the thing seemed to scent the air, looking for new targets. Six eyes fixed on Hotaru, and the featureless face – shrouded and pressed up against its sheath of skin – seemed to smile.

–

Ranma ripped a massive blanket from her ki-space, the thing being a mainstay of the Umisenken style. She silently sent a small prayer of thanks to her father, for unlocking her use of the styles, which would – hopefully – let her keep people safe today.

Appearing behind Nabiki, she swept the girl into the blanket first, improvising the Yasha Tankai Hō to suit her needs. The "Demon-Guardian Searching the Sea Wrap" as her father had named it, was a technique designed to counter the vacuum blades of the Yamasenken, by creating a veritable mountain of debris, and a shield of material that would soak up the blade's attack. Basically, you collected stuff to block it, in your blanket. A very big blanket.

Ranma was banking on the fact she could probably get everyone the hell out of the way with it too. Dropping back out of sight, she pushed herself as hard as she could, reaching her mother and friends a few moments before the Broken One reached them. Her sudden appearance with a squirming, screaming sack of a blanket must have unnerved them terribly, because they simply stood rooted in place as she deftly whipped the thing around them, using ki to reinforce, expand, and hold the thing together.

Burdened but relieved, Ranma flipped over the monster's first attack, hurling herself up and over the thing, before she launched herself high in the air and toward a nearby roof. Hopefully everyone would be safe there, while she dealt with the monster.

–

Six people were dumped unceremoniously on the roof, as Ranma whipped the massive blanket she'd used away, stuffing it into her ki-space while in mid-jump back to the street and the waiting horror there.

Horror was a good word for the expressions on the Senshi's faces, seeing one of their friends try to protect them from an eldritch being. Setsuna was the first on her feet, quickly followed by a panicking Hotaru, "Ranma, no! Wait!"

A hand on either of their shoulders held the two back, keeping them from jumping down as well. Hotaru vainly struggled, but was held fast. "Nodoka, please! We have to help her!"

The serene but focused gaze on her face stalled the other two Outer Senshi, while Setsuna and Hotaru spared each other glances and nervous looks to the street. Finally, she spoke. "Please do not judge my son for what he may do. Just remember who he is, and what he is to you."

Michiru seemed to be the most confused by this, but it was only an illusion due to her more open face. "Son? Him? What? Who are you talking about?"

Stress had caused her – much like Ranma and his speech – to fall back onto familiar patterns. Understanding this too late, Nodoka tried to salvage her mistake. "Ranma is a very special person, and her experiences have prepared her for the most trying opponents. Yes I'm worried, but this thing is nothing, compared to what... she's dealt with."

Setsuna was not prone to being pleased at surprises. 'No,' she amended, 'I do enjoy them, just not at the cost of my sanity.' And this did seem to bring that point most decidedly home. Broken Ones were not idle enemies, and to find one in Japan was almost unheard of. Europe was quite rotten with the traces of such blasphemy, and there were parts of the Americas were the rot was so deep it could spawn volcanoes. The reason was easy, really. Humans were always motivated by power, and the kind of power that Broken Ones promised didn't quite... mesh, if that was a good term, with the things that most often tempted the Japanese.

Then, there was Ranma. Small, cute, outgoing, somewhat awkward, somewhat damaged Ranma. Who was she? Contrary to what most believed, guarding the Time Gates did not mean one was stationed there, watching them like some kind of voyeur's paradise. If time could be compared to a sea, she was the Admiral of a fleet that kept the lanes clear, not Poseidon with his trident. Her hand was in most of Earth's known history, but for the most part, she didn't obsess or spend any more time at them than needed. Even when she was monitoring, she did so without actually watching the flow of time. To do so would tempt even her to meddle beyond her mandate.

Chibiusa was proof she wasn't infallible in that way.

What Setsuna had finally realized, was that she had no idea what this elfin young woman was. Who, what made her into the thing she had become. There were hints of tragedy – they all heard what went on between the two young women earlier – but the true depth was lost to them.

Apparently, so was her skill.

Haruka sank to the rooftop, her eyes wide and unbelieving. "Wh-What the hell is she?" Beside her, Michiru kneeled down, trying to force her eyes to her love but had problems pulling them away from the one-sided slaughter going on below them.

Nodoka smiled grimly, pride evident in her voice. "The best."

–

Ranma knew when bravado and taunting insults were appropriate tactics. It amused her that almost everyone she met reacted the same to them. Pops had taught her pretty well in that. This however wasn't a time to jeer and incite rage. She need the Broken One to focus on her, and her alone. Anger only seemed to make the ancient thing unpredictable.

Six eyes, not counting the macabre mockery dwelling upon its brow, tracked her, as she returned to the battlefield. Taunts may not be appropriate, but there were protocols in place, for battles between things like this. "Who's words do you heed, lurker beyond the beneath?"

A trumpeting, fluting, roaring cacophony washed over Ranma, clashing against her mind at the alien nature of its sound. Despite that, the thing that rode within her, that sat silent in threat, spun those awful sounds into ideas, then ideas into words.

"The Beyond All, Render of Veils, Herald of the Soon-To-Be-Unmade has given me providence," the thing had said.

The thing's words were expected – Broken Ones heeded a single will, their god for all practical purposes, and those names it had spoken weren't unfamiliar to her. Neither was the face, now that she got a clear look at it, seemingly growing from the Outsider's forehead. Ranma blinked, then her vision went red with realization. "You idiot," she hissed, dropping all pretense of holding her ki back as it roared to life around her in black-gold inferno. "You ripped the wall between worlds, for what?" She screamed, dashing forward like a dark comet.

The Broken One slammed its feet into the ground, trying to squash the fleeting insect that troubled it, eyes tracking all around, trying to fix on the frenetic redhead. "Akane will be mine," it burbled in its watery, yowling tongue. "One of my flesh, one of my mind..."

For a moment, Ranma felt a wash of supreme incredulity. First moronic rivals, then immortal adolescents, princes, kings... and now, idiot sorcerers who bit off far more than they could chew and who had been eaten by their own summoning. "Akane, you have the worst luck with men," the redhead muttered, slipping up behind the thing, crossing her arms. Ki from her aura brightened along those limbs, sucking at the air greedily, "Kijin Raishū Dan!"

Waves of vacuum rocked into the Broken One's hide, sending thick, chunky, slightly fluorescent green muck spattering with no small amount of force. The thing trumpeted its pain in a blaring, undulating sound that cracked glass and sent most onlookers still fool enough to remain to their knees. Wearing her ki like a cloak, Ranma whipped out a smaller blanket from her limited ki-space, feeling the drain of using it so often. "Really need to work on that," she muttered absently, grabbing a broken steel table leg as she sped by it.

Her progress halted as stinging tentacles, barbed cruelly and bearing tiny hooks, lashed out as she came too close to the Broken One. Otherworldly venom ripped through Ranma's blood as the fleshy weapons connected, forcing the redhead to retreat while blindly ripping the things away from her skin, howling in pain. Weals that bled freely were left behind, hooks still embedded into fair skin. More worrisome, Ranma saw the expected venom glands frantically pulsating, still attached to those hooks, pumping their payload into her blood. Gritting her teeth, she slashed the table leg down her arm against the curve of those hooks, ripping strips of flesh away as the barbs refused to be dislodged. She equally refused to look at the mingled blood and poison leaking from her now-ragged arm, knowing her body would deal with it in time. The pain, however, would linger far longer.

Snarling in rage, she lit up the street with a blast of searing black-gold ki, not bothering to focus herself by using a name for her attack. Flesh and bone blasted away from the sudden burst of power, giving her an avenue of attack.

The Broken One screamed again in pain, trying to keep its side to the hated human that caused so much damage to its precious flesh. Its venom would slow and stop the insignificant being, as it had all others. Only... it didn't seem to be working. "What manner of beast are you," it questioned, unheard in that moment before another coruscating beam that stank of unholy fury and righteous ability carved a concave trench through its hide, severing two of its legs at the joint. Blinded by pain, the thing only shuddered, its grip on this world becoming more tenuous as its body was torn apart.

Ranma knew the best way to deal with these creatures was to blind them. Doing so wasn't easy, however, as they had senses far removed from those of normal beings from Earth. Lucky for her, ki could manage, where she refused to heed the siren's call of magic thrumming in her blood. Again she shoved ki into her chosen weapon – the blanket she held. Much like Kodachi's ribbons, will and life reinforced the cloth, reacting to the redhead's whim far easier than it should. Ranma didn't need to look to know it was working, she could just tell.

Besides, her focus was on dodging those few tentacles that struck for her, as she skidded to a halt before the Broken One's head. Spinning in place, she improved three of the Umisenken's steps, for her needs.

"Goshin Ryūsei Fu," she muttered quietly, snapping the cloth around the Broken One's muzzle as she wound it about quickly. The "Self-Protection Shooting Star Cloth" technique was little more than a distraction, usually, where one wrapped another's head in a blinding manner, depriving them of sight. While useful in very general ways, in this case, the ki-soaked cloth served to blind and bind the Broken One's vision, leaving its tentacles without guidance. It would shortly remove the issue, unless she decided to continue...

"Rigyo Honshin." The words were spoken quietly, without need to increase her volume. Ranma used the "Carp-Fish Bodyflip" to do a backflip over the Broken One's grotesque head, as the blanket wrapped around it completely, further blinding it and giving her the opening for her third step.

Her triumphant cry was followed by the spinning of the bloody table leg, before she used the sharp broken end to pin the ki-enhanced cloth to the Broken One's own hide, sending the steel through flesh, muscle, and finally bone. Her personal revision for the "High Mountain Reverse Sea Ability", where one used the still-held corners of the blanket with feet planted in the back of the unfortunate target to strangle them, was the "Rising Tide Barrier Reef" – Sashishio Mashō.

With the blanket now wrapped and pinned in place – painfully, Ranma hoped fervently – she was free to finish what would be needed to send the Broken One back through the veil of worlds, where it belonged.

All she needed now was to dispense copious amounts of damage. A fierce grin split her face, as she flipped again, speeding to where she could inflict the most hurt fastest.

Right beneath the Broken One's soft white underbelly, now that its tentacles were blinded. With a roar and a fierce bloodthirsty smile, she called out the thing's death. "Kijin-Gun Dai Ranbu!"

–

"Gathering of Fierce Gods, Great Chaotic Dance," Nodoka murmured, as the Broken One was reduced in moments to sprays of gore, broken bone, chunks of flesh and very little else. Vacuum blades ripped out at it from every angle, centered from a nova of destruction that bore the name Ranma.

Silence reigned as the disguised Senshi watched the scene of massacre unfold before them in stark detail. The only other sound to accompany the squelching splatters of otherworldly entrails came from, of all sources, Hotaru.

Laughing and clapping, the Senshi of Ruin watched her teacher utterly annihilate a monster that even she would hesitate to face one on one, knowing her more powerful skills would do far too much collateral damage. She mused, in her most private of thoughts, what someone like Ranma could do with The Silence, with her skill? A thrill shuddered up the young girl's spine. Despite her gentle and caring outward nature, Saturn's Guardian knew precisely what she was. It was hard not to, after the events that occurred during her Awakening. She was a weapon, a final resort, a leashed apocalypse.

Like called to like. Even as she was horrified by the carnage, a kernel of her fundamental self found something absolutely arousing about the power she'd seen. Watching Ranma as she shouldered aside the few remaining vestiges of the Broken One's mortal form, Hotaru licked her lips almost hungrily.

She was pulled from her musing as Nodoka helped Nabiki down, Setsuna and the others lowering themselves to the ground by way of a fire escape. Foregoing that and frankly uncaring of exposure for the moment, Hotaru called on her planet's essence, the transformation rippling through her quickly and without fanfare. Gaining height, definition, and a more mature body, Saturn smoothed her skirt down, as she spent a fraction of a moment debating her motivations, before shoving such thoughts aside. Her Glaive held at rest, she cleared the rooftop with a vaulting jump, landing a few steps before the startled martial artist.

Ranma nearly slipped on the ichorous blood pooled at her feet at the fuku-clad girl's sudden arrival. "Whoa! Hey... um. Oh. You're one the Senshi, right?" Ranma paled at the searing look the violet and black clad girl gave her, striding purposefully forward. Her eyes lingered on the weapon the girl held, and her mind tried to blank at what her senses read from it. "Um, oh. Sorry! I didn't know... oh cra-Mmmph?!"

Haruka blinked, then blinked again, rubbing at her eyes frantically. "Wh-What?"

Nabiki took one look at Ranma, who's braided pig-tail had 'toinged' straight out with her surprise, as she was held in a lip-lock of epic proportions by of all things, a Sailor Senshi. Having no other valid response ready, the middle Tendo palmed her face.

From her place beside Setsuna, Michiru rubbed at the bridge of her nose lightly, thoughts of what she'd need to speak to Hotaru about that night already haunting her. "This... was not the way I expected to learn my daughter shared my lifestyle," the typically elegant woman groused with some exasperation. She mentally prepared her version of the talk – "The Birds and the Bees – Bird-on-Bird Edition" – as she watched their redheaded friend try to disengage from Hotaru's tonsil inspection.

Lips trying to quirk up in a manic smile, Nodoka leaned back against a broken wall as she nearly swooned. "Well, even when he's my daughter, my son is so manly," she declared, imagining grandchildren in Chinese tangs and Sailor fuku running around banishing imps and demons while she served them lemonade and cookies.

Setsuna watched as Nodoka seemed to zone out, then collapse from some kind of blissed-out seizure. Honestly, however, she had little concern for the elder Saotome woman. If Ranma's abilities weren't just a fluke, then her mother would likely be perfectly fine. Besides, she had other things on her mind. Mainly, how in the world she'd managed to get shown up by someone in Junior High School. "That little tramp! How dare she beat me to the punch!"

Two pairs of eyes snapped to Pluto's Guardian, and she realized somewhat belatedly, she'd spoken out loud. Nodoka, semi-conscious on the ground, snapped a small fan up into the air in victory.

–

The hospital waiting room was a tense affair, with far too many reminders of the past represented for Ranma's taste. Oddly, she found a very effective buffer in her new friends, even if they too were a little edgy.

Her mother, on the other hand, was a blight on her world. "So, does anyone know who that young woman was? She was so adorable in her little dress, and that weapon! I just know she'd be a wonderful match for my manly son!"

Ranma massaged her temple as the older redhead went on and on, thankfully forgetting Setsuna's little outburst. Not that she'd missed it, however. The expected reactions from the combined Genma-Tendo front however were enough to keep things far too interesting for her tastes. The question wasn't if they'd make a scene, but when.

And why was Hotaru practically hiding in the corner, blushing? Strange.

A little spike of trepidation ran through her, as she took in the girl's other guardians. Haruka and Michiru weren't precisely what Ranma would class as being of parenting age – being only a year or so older than her – but then again, neither of them were technically parents. Of the three adults living at the Meiou residence, only Setsuna truly qualified for the title, and she... Somehow Ranma didn't think she was the sort to be tied down to motherhood.

Her anxiety came from what she'd done to the Outsider, in Harajuku. Had she scared Hotaru that much? Was that why the girl's household were giving her odd looks? True, the sealed Senken forms were formidable, and very, very dangerous, but... Heaving a weary sigh, Ranma stood and moved to look out the nearby window. Then of course, on top of that, there was that random Senshi to consider. She recalled her mother's warnings about them, but to have one leap down after killing an Outsider, and all but rape her mouth? She'd expected harsh words, maybe a fight – not the informal invitation to swap bodily fluids.

She was so taken by the rain and watching the patterns of water falling across the glass, that Ranma missed Setsuna coming up and laying a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Ranma ignored the suddenly attentive room. Not like she'd had much privacy in her life before. "No. Not at all."

A little offset by the unexpected frankness, Setsuna settled on the nearby windowsill. "Then, talk with me about it?"

"Dunno if I should," Ranma groused quietly, turning away from the woman's deep red eyes. "It ain't... " she cursed quietly, phantom pains from her mother's reminders coming to the fore. "... it isn't all my story to tell."

Setsuna allowed that, nodding. "Well, lets try for something less personal, maybe? After the ambulance had taken Akane away, you walked over to what was left of that... thing, and did something. You said a name, I recall."

"Gosunkugi. Hikaru Gosunkugi," Ranma replied bitterly. She noted Nabiki's sudden attention, but didn't care. It wouldn't matter either way, anymore. "Small-time magician. Mostly just a joke. He never did get anything quite right. This either, it seemed."

Nabiki strolled closer, sitting in a nearby chair. "I wouldn't have expected you to have such an understanding of these things, Ranma," the girl noted speculatively. "What's gotten you interested in the occult?"

The redhead ignored the obvious baiting, continuing her explanation to Setsuna's question. She wasn't quite ready to deal with the mercenary Tendo yet. "Gos wasn't subtle. And he talked a lot out loud, when thinking. Pretty easy to figure out. Anyway, the Outsider pretty much told me what I needed to know. He'd been summoned, and then homed in on the target, so to speak."

"He wanted to hurt Akane?" Nabiki's voice was disbelieving. "That doesn't make sense."
"Nah," Ranma explained, finally addressing the middle Tendo's concern, "He wanted her – but that was probably all he put into his summoning. Usual Nerima stupidity. The monster absorbed him, then used his desire to fuel itself. Those things are like that. Once it had killed Akane, probably by eatin' her, it would have twisted Gos' words around on him, to break him.

"After that, it'd have access to his mind and body. It could have started forming a nest and summoning more of those things."

Nabiki blinked. "You do know more about this than I'd expect. But how do you know it was Hikaru for certain?"

"Ask my mom about demon hunting, someday," Ranma sniped back, quieting the girl. She didn't owe her civility, considering their history. "As for Gos, well. Remember that weird face-shaped thing on the Outsider's forehead? Guess who's face it was under that."

The middle Tendo greened. "Oh. So that's what you did..."

"Better to know who you're dealin' with, so you can track back and destroy the material," Ranma pointed out by way of explanation. "These things don't just show up on their own, thankfully. Don't want the guy's parents putting his books and notes into a yard sale or sellin' 'em to a curio store."

Setsuna connected a few dots, nodding with a slight smile. Listening to the young woman talk so frankly about this was fascinating. "So, your mother I take it is part of the Contract? A demonslayer?"

"Was," Ranma corrected, not wanting to talk about such things in mixed company. It did raise the question on how Setsuna – who was an administrative assistant at a school and fashion buff – knew about such things. "Her family's talents fade after... well when she married, she lost 'em. Sword she carries isn't for show, you know."

"Do you carry the same powers? Is that what we saw?" The green-haired woman inquired, hoping to solve this redheaded mystery. Not that she minded her, but it was entertaining to learn such things directly. She'd once compared watching a person's life and interacting with them to masturbation and sex, to Minako.

She never drank around Venus again.

Ranma chuckled darkly. "Nah. Gift moves from mother to daughter. I didn't count."

Nabiki made a sound that said she understood... which just confused Setsuna further. "Ah. But you're her daughter?"

"At the moment," Ranma replied evasively.

Laughing quietly, Setsuna had to admit, turnabout was fair play. It was somewhat refreshing to be on the receiving end of being in the dark, for once. Not that she intended to let the other Senshi know that. Her enigmatic mystique was part of her charm, after all. Now, if she could only avoid laughing about this later, in front of them...

However amusing this was, it didn't explain what she'd witnessed. "What did you use then? That wasn't like anything I'd seen before," the disguised Senshi queried.

Ranma heaved a sigh, "I'm a martial artist. Probably the best in my generation. What you saw was mostly me using some very dangerous sealed techniques that I'm working on revising, as part of my heritage."

"Sounds almost like a demonslayer clan, to me."

"Those techniques?" Ranma snorted in a decidedly unladylike fashion. "Designed for theft and robbing homes."

Setsuna really didn't know what to say to that.

"Boy," Genma broke in, as if speaking about the Senken's had summoned his attention. Recalling how Happosai would do so at nothing more than his name, Ranma didn't wholly discount the possibility. "So, you used them against this Outsider as you called it?"

Ranma nodded, taking up a lecturing tone. "That particular kind of Outsider's strength was based in its form. The more damage you did, the weaker it got. They can regenerate, though," she explained. "So you need to hit 'em hard and fast.

"The tentacles are envenomed," she continued, holding up her heavily bandaged arm for emphasis. "So, getting in close is a bad idea. I figure those things could shrug off all but high-caliber rifle fire, so probably heavy military attacks would put it down. Maybe magic, if someone was able to get to it before it took out a few blocks first. Senshi if they were on-site I guess, but by the time they arrived if they weren't, the thing'd likely be gone already. Problem with them is they're just about perfect assassins.

"They show up where the target their summoner called them for happens to be," Ranma continued, moving to pace around slowly. "Then, pretty much focus on them till they're dead. After that, they hide, get their energy back, then start summoning their own playmates. They're usually only exposed for a day."

Genma pushed his glasses up, a speculative look on his face. "Boy, when did you learn so much about these things? I didn't train you to be a demon hunter."

"No, you just trained me to be an egotistical jerk," the redhead muttered, before looking to her mother. "Didn't you tell him?"

Nodoka shrugged noncommittally. "He wasn't really interested in my family, so much as his... husbandly duties."

"Gurk," Ranma replied intelligently.

Setsuna's tanned complexion greened visibly. "Indeed."

"Honestly," Ranma's mother complained, though amused. "I suppose since the secret is essentially out, there is no harm. My family, traditionally, were demonslayers as Setsuna guessed. However," here the older woman paused, her face growing irritated. "It wasn't in my fate, apparently, to have a daughter. Since our family passes such knowledge from the maternal line, I was prepared to let my ambitions die, as my sister's two daughters are doing quite well."

Connecting the dots, Ranma laughed suddenly, missing the utterly confused look on Setsuna's face. "So, that's why you've been pushing me for grandkids! You wanted a granddaughter to train!"

Guiltily, Nodoka nodded. "I'm still young enough to do so. Plus, with their father's help, any of those we taught would become formidable slayers."

"Aw, mom, you give me too much credit. I've never taught before, y'know?"

"Boy!" Genma's face had grown red in irritation at having his discussion with Ranma derailed. The room looked to him, their confusion on the conversation's strange twists displaced as the rotund martial artist attempted to loom over his child, with limited success. "I also heard you used portions of the Senken's against your fiancee-"

"She ain't my fiancee," Ranma snarled back, advancing on the older man. Genma blinked, before getting poked sharply in the chest. Too late he recognized the pressure point, and groaned internally – as he was currently paralyzed. "Damn it, I'm tired of that crap! I made that clear months ago, so get it through your thick, bald, empty skull! I ain't marrying that violent maniac!"

Turning on Nabiki, who looked ready to say something herself, the livid redhead continued, "And don't even try to push your angles, or family honor, Nabiki. Ain't in the mood for it, today."

"I wasn't going to," the mercenary Tendo griped, flipping her hair behind an ear. "But someone's going to have to pay for this hospital stay, and since you were the one to rough up my sister..."

Ranma merely shook her head, leaning up against a wall. "You must still take me for an idiot. If the Tomboy needs support, let her family do it. Ancestors know I've already paid my dues to your little insane asylum, Tendo."

Moving to her child's side, Nodoka presented a unified front to the middle Tendo, her expression carefully blank. "Akane accepted the challenge. She knew the risks, having seen nearly all of Ranma's abilities before. That said, perhaps she'll learn a lesson about common courtesy, and think twice about behaving as she did today again. And I don't recall the Tendo family ever assisting in Ranma's medical bills, when he... she was injured on her behalf in the past," the older woman replied with some venom, closing the topic.

Seeing that she'd make no headway with the estranged Saotomes, Nabiki dropped her angle and grumbled irritably. Medical care was expensive, and without Ranma at the Dojo to exploit for cash on occasion, or schedule bets on at Furinkan, this little social slip-up of Akane's was going to severely dent her funds. To say Nabiki planned to have a very terse conversation with her sister soon would be an understatement.

"Ranma, release your father," Nodoka prompted after seeing that Nabiki's questions were settled, earning a wince and mutter from the redhead. "We'll be leaving shortly, as this no longer concerns us, and we have to find this Gosunkugi's home."

Understanding her mother's reasoning, Ranma did as she was asked. "Yeah, the sooner we find what he used to summon that thing, the better."

Setsuna stepped forward at this, "Do you mind if we accompany you?" As the spectating Outers and Saotomes looked at each other in confusion, the civilian-mode Senshi of Time elaborated. "I have an interest in the occult, well more of a hobby, really," the green haired woman lied slightly. "I won't keep you from what you need to do, but I am curious."

Eying the tanned woman for a moment, Ranma recalled what had been said after her fight with the Broken One earlier. Though she wasn't unfamiliar with such a situation – having someone decide they were suddenly interested – it had never before been a woman for her woman's form. Deciding that having the Meiou household along would give her a chance to speak with Setsuna about what she'd said, and find out if she was just kidding or serious, the redheaded martial artist nodded. The two families were good friends, and she wanted to clear this up as soon as possible. "Fashion and the occult, huh?" Ranma chuckled as the taller woman grinned quietly at her jibe. "Sure. Shouldn't be dangerous now. 'Sides, we all started this together – may as well end it the same."

From the sidelines, Hotaru shyly grinned in victory. Now she just had to recapture that courage from before...

–

Ranma mused on how easy it had been, some hours later, to not only deliver a Ryū Kumon-grade beat-down to her ex-fiancee, but to also leave her behind in a hospital without so much as seeing if she'd be alright. Those things stood in stark counter to how she'd reacted to the Broken One's actions, in attacking Akane in the first place.

Conflicted and confused. All was right in Ranma's world, it seemed. The redhead snorted indelicately at that realization.

"Are you alright?"

From the passenger seat in Nodoka's sedan, the martial artist nodded. "I'm fine, Setsuna. Just thinking."

She mused that someone else might be worried that their father would be upset with them, for using the methods she had against her ex-fiancee. Aside from the fact Ranma really didn't care if Gemna was angry or not, she also discarded any concern on the other likely worry someone would feel. She had, after all, used the sealed Senkens on Akane. She knew, just as her father had to, that it was more of a statement than anything. If she'd intended to hurt or kill Akane, like those styles could so easily do, then it would have been a foregone conclusion. Hell, just the gate-crashing technique could have finished the job – not that Ranma had intended to.

No, she just wanted to drive a point home to the uncute tomboy. Playtime was over, and so were they.

Behind said seat, the emerald haired woman hummed quietly, frowning. Ahead of her, one of the few topics of her interest sat and brooded, something she'd seen so rarely as to make it stand out quite starkly. Ranma, the elfin girl, simply didn't brood. Then there was how she'd spoken just now... 'Setsuna'. Though she often complained good-naturedly about Ranma's nickname for her, she liked hearing it. It was refreshing to have someone treat her normally, though those of her household were quickly converting as well. And honestly, she liked the slight familiarity. Deciding not to fall into the trap of brooding herself, she replied in an airy tone, "If you say so. You've been unusually quiet since earlier."

"Not every day some monster from another universe shows up to wreck your shopping trip," Ranma replied archly, turning slightly to address the tanned woman. She decidedly avoided the gazes of Setsuna's housemates, as they looked between the two for the few moments they held eye contact. Ranma broke the moment by blinking, turning to her classmates. "Been meaning to ask, did anyone see what happened to that girl in the skirt? That Senshi?" Ranma didn't miss the slight jerk that question brought out of Hotaru, but she didn't understand precisely why mention of the Senshi put the girl so on-edge.

Haruka cleared her throat quietly. "Not really. Once the ambulance and the EMT's had arrived, it seemed she'd disappeared."

Ranma grumbled slightly at that, disliking the idea of Juuban's resident demonslayers maybe getting wind of her particular issue. Though, admittedly, pulling her into a lip-lock wasn't the kind of interrogation she'd expected. "Eh, well," she voiced dismissively. "Sorry to drag you all into this, but I can't really let it slide."

"We don't mind," came the calm reply from Michiru, as expected. She'd always envied her that calm, Ranma admitted to herself. It wasn't like Kasumi's forced obliviousness, but a real inner peace. Something she could only maintain while performing the Art. "I personally find this all fascinating, if somewhat frightening."

"Like being on the set of a monster flick," Haruka added, though something seemed off in her expression.

Ranma spared her mother a look, and got one in return. Something odd was up with their friends, and though both Saotomes could feel it, neither could put their finger on it. Normally, people would be horrified, at least concerned, about seeing such a thing. Then their explanations... honestly neither woman would have said as much as they did, if it hadn't been so surreal as to have the four from the Meiou household simply take it all in stride. It threw off their normal close-lipped methods in such situations terribly – not that Ranma was practiced in such things. She'd only began her training in the most peripheral of Nodoka's family Art. She was, at heart, still male after all.

Was Juuban really that bad, Ranma wondered to herself as they neared Nerima for the first time in months. So much so, that people treated a dimensional horror like a Broken One bursting through and nearly destroying a city block as if it were just another day-to-day occurrence? Even little Hotaru, who seemed shy as a scolded puppy sometimes at school, hadn't batted an eyelash. She seemed more bashful and shy around her than usual, though, which really threw Ranma for a loop. A little bit of hero-worship had sparked in her, from when she'd been teaching the younger girl martial arts, but this was completely new.

All told, it was turning out to be just such a strange day. She'd be pleased when it was over with.

–

Despite her subtle – and not-so-subtle – requests that she remain with either Michiru, Haruka, and Hotaru outside, or if nothing else, her mother downstairs, Setsuna insisted on following Ranma as she went to inspect Hikaru's room.

It wasn't that she minded the tanned woman's company, really. If she had been frankly honest with herself, Ranma would have admitted that the woman's presence was rather pleasant. Though it had taken a small while for the two to warn to one another, it had eventually happened.

Most of their distance originally lay in their interests. Setsuna was – when home at all – often found relaxing and reading a book, tuning out the world at large. Ranma however couldn't often contain her energy, and so tended to idle outside, doing kata, when not teaching Hotaru or sparring with Haruka. Oddly enough, they mostly crossed paths in the kitchen, or when the topic of history came up – something Ranma had started enjoying once she really focused on her classwork.

As it turned out, Setsuna was an accomplished cook, almost a gourmet. There was an odd synergy, the two discovered, one night working on a meal together. Ranma's speed and precision, coupled with Setsuna's complex menu, combined to make quite the show. Since then, it had become a weekly occurrence that Ranma would drop by, and the two would secret themselves away to make a meal that the two households found rather amazing.

So why was it, Ranma asked herself, that she suddenly felt like it was a year ago, and she'd been locked in a room with one of the fiancees?

"I'm sorry if what I'd said before bothered you," the tanned woman murmured as they took the stairs up to the late sorcerer's room, as if reading Ranma's thoughts. "Honestly, I wasn't really thinking. It was just... shocking to see you handle that thing so well, all on your own. Then the Senshi arrived..." Shaking her head, the older woman smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. That, more than anything, irked Ranma. "You can write it off as nerves and adrenaline."

Rather than voice a reply, Ranma just made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat, nudging Gosunkugi's door open with her foot. The room was what she'd expected, having known the spooky young man for a few years.

Setsuna sniffed in open disdain, after shooting a curious glance at her companion's lack of reaction. "It looks like some kind of death-metal occultist's room."

"Dunno about his taste in music, but you're half right at least." Moving further into the dingy, tacky, messy room, Ranma couldn't help but make a few noises of annoyance. Was she ever this bad? No, it wasn't possible. She never had so many damn things. The room was a veritable vault of stuff. "Ugh, obviously close to a laundry day."

For her part, Setsuna was reminded of why she never dated, nor indulged in the stability of family, before the Outers. Not that they really counted, in the way of raising children. "...how many boxes of tissues did he need?"

"Too much information," Ranma muttered as she picked over a bookshelf. Rows of new-age mysticism books, modern-day witchcraft guides, a few recognizable works of major religions – most with their spines pristine, showing they were token pieces – and even some odd scrolls... but nothing she could identify as the source of the recent incident. To fill in the silence, she idly commented on their late host. "He was always a loner, kinda creepy. Never looked too healthy, to be honest. Surprised his folks didn't lean on him harder to clean up his act."

"They seemed rather... normal, honestly," the off-duty Senshi commented. Her magical senses, well-honed, knew something potent was nearby, but pinpointing it through the background noise of Gosunkugi's room would be impossible. Besides, it was clear Ranma was feeling wary, and she was already pushing the envelope, that day. Best to lay low.

Nodding at her observation, the younger redhead loosed a sigh, straightening. "Look, Suna-chan... about earlier..."

"I'm sorry for blurting that out, truly-"

"Did you mean it?"

Setsuna stalled for a moment, before wrenching her emotional control back into place. Her face a calm mask, she regarded the martial artist. "I've considered you something of a kindred spirit for some time, really. Since we began our weekly meetings." Looking away, she caught sight of what could be their objective... but said nothing for the moment. "Maybe in the heat of the moment I let something slip that shouldn't have."

Ranma deflated slightly, the tense attention draining out of her, leaving the young woman looking smaller, more worn and tired. "Right, suppose so. I mean," she began, a rather plainly fake smile on her lips, "you said as much coming up here."

Without pause, she moved directly to the corner of the table Setsuna had observed before, and pulled the book covered in math notes and a notebook out from under the pile. Snapping the handwritten tome shut, she waved it in a hand. "Mission accomplished."

Closing her eyes and nodding, the Guardian of Time tried not to think she'd just made a mistake.

Ranma wondered why the rejection, something she'd desperately wanted for so long from other sources, felt so bitter this time.

–

The scene below would have been heartbreaking, if Ranma hadn't been the cause for it, at least as an accessory. The Gosunkugi family sat hugging one another, the youngest son looking between his parents and a nearby picture of his older brother Hikaru with an uncomprehending expression. A distant part of the martial artist was glad at least the family had another child. It would help hold them together, through this.

Moving to her mother's side, she tapped the older redhead on the shoulder. "Found what we needed," she murmured quietly.

"Is that... the cause of all this?"

Ranma winced at the question, before regarding the dead boy's mother frankly. "As far as I know, yeah. This is what he learned the spell from."

There was a stifled scoff from the woman's husband, and one look at the man told Ranma all she needed to know about how his thoughts were turning after the news her mother had sprung on them. "Spell? Don't be ludicrous. This woman-" he indicated Nodoka with his hand," -tried to pass such idiocy off as a reason for Hikaru's... for him..." gritting his teeth, the man rose to his feet. "Give me that. I want to see what supposedly drove my boy insane."

Nearly a head shorter than the man, Ranma nonetheless stared him down. "As much as I regret comin' with mom to tell you about all this, I got other priorities. Makin' sure junk like this," Ranma waved the small book slightly, "stays out of anyone's hands is number one."

"And who are you, little girl, to be deciding this?" The man shrugged off his wife's calming hand, making a grab for the tome. Ranma didn't seem to notice the movement, simply shifting it so it was just left of where he was aiming as she shifted her feet. "Why you-"

Fast as a striking snake, Ranma tapped the man in the same place she had her own father, earlier that evening. "Pressure points," she noted calmly, eyes glacial chips. "Good for makin' sure people listen when ya talk." Shaking her head slowly, she turned to her mother, "Wanna take over? I ain't all that stable today."

Nodding, Nodoka stood from the small chair she'd settled in earlier as Ranma pulled a small box from thin air, undoing the lock on the front with some odd motions of her fingers. She'd forgive her child's lapse in proper language, for the same reasons. "As my... daughter has so eloquently stated, there are priorities in place for what we do. The first is to minimize or remove the danger of such creatures when they are presented. That requires us to be very strong fighters," she explained, regarding the man before her with an arched brow. She let the moment hang, so that he could think her words over clearly, and make no mistakes.

"The second of our duties is misinformation. The world is unready to deal with such truths as demons and magic. So, for those that need not be involved, we adjust the truth to suit.

"In your case, however, things are different," she noted, taking a moment to look at the portrait of a sickly, pale, odd-looking child on the mantle. "The boy was family, and we are honor-bound to tell you about his fate."

Moving to her daughter's side, she inspected the sealing of the charwood box. "Lastly, we are bound to destroy any materials or items that can assist such events from happening. In many ways, this is more important than our other duties, but it is hard to do proactively."

"Was it... was it quick?"

Ranma regarded Hikaru's mother, then nodded, meeting her eyes while the Soul of Ice was thrumming through her blood like frozen water. "It was. He didn't suffer at all."

The woman slumped in relief at the martial artist's lie, before succumbing to another fit of sobs. Nodoka rested a hand on her shoulder, in parting. "We are sorry for your loss. If there was anything we could have done, we would have."

Glancing back toward Ranma, the elder Saotome nodded to the frozen form of the woman's husband. Knowing her meaning, Ranma undid the paralysis as she walked with Nodoka to the door. "We'll leave you now. Again, we are sorry."

Ranma nodded uncomfortably. "Yeah." Once the door closed behind them, the martial artist slumped. "Don't think I could handle doing that a lot," Ranma commented, as she patted her mother's back lightly. For her part, the distraught woman was doing well in controlling her own emotions, though she had slipped slightly. It had been some long while since she'd openly and actively performed the duties of her family.

She nodded at her child's comment, as they sat uncomfortably in the front of the sedan, the Meiou household trying to fade into the background behind them. "It never gets easy. Honestly, the guilt and hate that we end up carrying with us after our duty drives more away than the horror. Such a thankless duty..."

"Most are," Setsuna commented, quietly, from behind Ranma. "It is admirable that the both of you care enough to have done this."

"Makes me wish sometime that I'd never taken that trip with Pop," Ranma muttered quietly, before shaking herself. "Past is the past. Lets get everyone home – I don't wanna carry this thing around any more than I have to."

–

It was later that night that things began to unravel.

Ranma went about her night-time activities in her typically mechanical way – brushing her teeth, loosening the tie on her hair to brush it out briskly, then tying it back up, before stripping with little fanfare to slip into a furo tub. Scentless soap, shampoo, and a coarse cloth called her attentions next, as she bathed and washed without really seeing or thinking about the body beneath those hands. Just like every other day, since Jusendo. Unlike the usual routine she followed, Ranma paused after bathing, putting aside those plain things, to regard the water distantly.

It took nearly eight months for the realization to finally hit, but Ranma found it doing so during a bath, of all times. Shivering despite the heat, she cupped the steaming water in her hand and stared at it, as if there was some answer waiting there.

"I'm never going to be able to really be a guy again, am I?" She wondered out loud, eyes distant and blank, mind nearly matching.

Sure, she could boil some water and scald herself, reverting back to her birth form... but for how long? The curse's nature wasn't something she could fight, and for two years and some odd months, she'd tried probably harder than any other alive. Maybe a few hours, and then what? Back where she was now, and with the curse slowly shifting so that the water had to be hotter each time. How soon would it be, before that same water hurt her enough to make changing forms something she simply couldn't do?

She couldn't go on like she used to.

It was a small thing to think about, but a huge one to really understand. All the flirting, scamming food or rivals, the lack of responsibility... those were all things she did while wearing her shifted form. Like a costume, Ranma had only treated it as something important when it was there, but the moment she didn't need it anymore, discarded it. Because, this form – back when it wasn't Ranma, but male and a head of black hair was – was just a side-affect of his curse. Now, it had become her reality.

Curling up so that she could hug her knees to her chest, Ranma shivered hard, so much so that she caused the water in the tub she sat in to slosh about noisily. This was how she'd be from now on, Ranma realized. Unless some miracle or magic cure could be found, from now on she'd be... simply that. Herself.

A long time ago it seemed she'd come to grips with the curse, and being someone remarkably different with just a splash of water. When she was a girl, Ranma worked for a time at the end, to just be that. A girl. It was a balancing act to try and keep the curse from becoming a liability. It was something her Pops had used against her over and over again, and though Ranma wasn't the brightest of her generation, her tactical mind was second to none.

That was one thing, however. All Ranma had done, was accept that when she was female, she could be female. The internal, essential Ranma never changed. He was still male, still Genma and Nodoka's son, still the fiancee of Akane Tendo.

Now, all that had changed. Eighteen years of life, lost. She'd been recreated into an image that she'd learned to hate, and now that was the totality of her existence. She was Ranma now – that image in her head dimming more and more as the days went on. She could have railed and raged about how every little detail was slowly unmaking her – the clothes, the words – daughter, girl, she – the looks she got from men, the way sometimes she'd assess one of them before her mind rebelled at what she was thinking. Oh, it was nothing sexual... yet. That concept still caused creeping shivers to crawl up her spine. Yet, she was honest with herself. She had been assessing the people around her, judging them like she had the fiancees before... and now those glances had began to stray to men.

She salved her aching thoughts with the knowledge that – as often as not – those judgements were not in their favor. Perhaps it was biased of her, but Furinkan's Hentai Horde, Kuno, Happosai, and even Ryoga had left a bad impression on her, regarding her birth gender. Hell, even her closest friends from school had become little more than hormonal idiots after the truth of her present state had come out into the open.

The city flipped in her vision, as the wind ripped a tattoo like rattled drums from her wings. Screaming something joyous into the wind, Ranma dove, swept and pitched against the wind for a moment as she loosed all those thing lodged into her soul, choking her for so long, into a howl that rattled windows far below.

Again and again those pinions swept the air, powerful and wide, wicked and hers.

This is what she was. Who she was.

Finding a rythym to the motion, she let it carry her further into Tokyo proper, till a spark of something below drew her attention. She kept her mind on it, as the memory of a song she'd heard recently welled up, and the redhead let her wings beat to it's cadence. Humming to the bassy orchestral piece, Ranma gained speed and altitude, staring up across the veil of clouds as they mimicked a sea between the starry ground below and the wide, huge, staring eye of the moon.

Ever-watchful, ever-seeing. Judging, deciding...

She frowned as those ideas filtered into her mind. Where did that come from?

—

AN: Ran out of steam about here. This is actually iteration about… 6 of this story. It got stuck in revision hell, and never emerged. Then I lost my motivation for it.