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: Another precursor to Lux Aeterna, this one in a more exploratory sense of what could have happened, at the beginning.
—
The Cost of Victory
The throne room within Phoenix Mountain was not often empty of visitors, emissaries, or the usual bustle and noise of daily court life. Being the typical meeting place for her people's elders and advisors as they went about the business of ruling the Phoenix race, it was often crowded with the usual traffic of politics, and the hangers-on that such things trailed behind like so much gaudy gossamer. Today, however, happened to be one of those few days when none would venture here, into the vast chamber carved from luminous volcanic rock. Kiima knew why, of course, as her own errand was likely the cause. None wanted to be nearby, when she approached to offer her people's efforts at restitution to their new and unwilling ruler. Taking some measure of comfort from the coruscating colors in fiery hues that ran through the stone around her, the former Captain of the Phoenix Guard wondered if today would be her last day upon the Earth. If her last flight above the venting caldera that made up her home would be the one she indulged in earlier that afternoon, trying to calm frayed nerves over what she knew would be a fruitless effort.
Steeling herself, Kiima schooled her expression into neutrality, announcing herself with a clicking of talons against stone.
The figure sitting restlessly upon the dais that held the throne looked up at her with half-lidded eyes. "Come."
The white-haired woman took no comfort in the icy tone of that voice, knowing full well that the fury it encased would rival that of the volcano below her feet. Regardless, she didn't let her anxiety show. She would not shame herself, her people, or her ruler by being weak in this critical moment. The bundle in her hands seemed magnetic, as she closed in on the crimson-haired woman before her, seeming to want to fly forward of its own volition, to be held in another's arms. Kiima didn't doubt that impression at all, in its possibility. Ancestors knew that the impossible seemed a daily thing around her new ruler.
Pausing before the throne, the former Captain fell into a kneel, briefly dusting the floor with her wings in a show of submission. Kiima didn't wait to be bid rise, as even that small show of obedience, needful as it was, she knew irked the one on the throne. Stepping forward even as the petite figure rose to meet her, she couldn't quite find the nerve to dispel all of her nervousness, as it came through in her voice, "It is... the best we could do."
Ranma clenched her fist at her side, her only outward reaction to Kiima's words. Unnoticed by the redhead, blood flowed freely from her closed fist. Her eyes, however, betrayed her thoughts. The bird-woman flinched at the restrained violence what she presented sparked in them. "I thought phoenix magic was all about rebirth? You're telling me this is it? This is all you could do, with your thousands of years of history and culture?"
Kiima knew she was on very unstable ground. In fact, the future of her entire people hung in the balance on this strange outsider's whim, with the interrupted and failed ascent of their last Lord, Saffron. That concern could wait, however, at least until she could build some kind of foundation with the young woman before her. That was critical, for all their sakes. It would not be an easy task, she knew. To say that she had gotten off on the wrong foot with the figure before her would be an understatement of the highest order.
All the events leading up to this critical moment began with her trip to Nerima, following the daughter of the Jusenkyo Guide who had with her the map she needed to help her then-young Lord achieve his ascension. That of course lead to her attacking those that gave her shelter, brainwashing one of them with a Surikomi egg to gain the map, which lead them all to Mt. Phoenix as well.
"Escalation," Kiima decided. It was a good word for what happened after that point. Theft became kidnapping, and violence lead to death. Saffron's maturation was going nicely apace, and they had nearly all the pieces they needed to complete their work. Then, the interlopers arrived and set everything on its head. It had all deteriorated at that point, from the theft of the Kinjakan to the loss of the map, the kidnapping and 'drowning' of Akane in the new pool to build a ruse, then the final battle after Saffron's premature hatching... Kiima forced herself to remain outwardly calm, while her mind shrank in terror at what she knew was possible, if she made one small misstep at this point.
The problem of course, lay in the fact her path wound through molten lava, for all the ease her task presented. She needed to answer the woman before her, however, and no amount of stalling would help them. Kiima, her wings drooping behind her in a posture of defeat, bowed her head. "Rebirth is the sphere of our Lords, yes... but only them. We are the people of Mt. Phoenix, but only the noble line can access control over such powers, and only direct them into themselves. We are not all as Saffron or y-"
"Don't." Ranma's glacial tone allowed no argument, and Kiima once again went quiet. The martial artist that had wreaked such havoc at Jusendo looked about herself, trying to distance the reality of the moment from her thoughts. She was trying desperately to find some balance in it all, some perspective to use so that her fury would stop trying so hard to break free. If it did so, there would be nothing left of this place, and for all she'd been willing to kill a handful of times in her life, genocide wasn't even remotely an acceptable answer to her current... problems.
Despite everything that had happened, however, she was still stubbornly chasing dwindling possibilities here at recapturing something of the life she'd had once, before Phoenix Mountain. "Why have I let it go on so long," she wondered to herself, silently. The battle with Saffron was over – and despite her efforts, the brat had survived, if only as a child. Everyone else, from those coming from Nerima to the Joketsuzoku had already gone home, leaving her to finish her... business, at Mt. Phoenix. No one else remained, and considering the nature of what had become of her, Ranma expected no one to come to help her this time... Ranma eyes betrayed her, glancing once again at the thing in Kiima's outstretched hands. She wrenched her gaze away, her stomach rolling nastily.
Akane's doll-form, its eyes closed with a smile on her lips, encased in unmelting magical ice.
There had been no long goodbyes, no tearful partings, despite all that had happened. In truth, she had expected more fight from Ryoga, considering what and who he was leaving behind, but there was none. Not after all that had been said and done. Her own father had turned his back on her, though in a small, nasty part of her mind, a voice told her that she knew this had only been something waiting in the wings. One day, it would have come to this, in one fashion or another, she'd always believed. It was chance that it did so on the bleakest day in her life.
Despite his often-abrasive nature, their parting had been very meager. That, however, was precisely the thing that stung so. Ranma was used to her father's banter and antagonism – it was how they related. She knew better than anyone how to read her father, and knew damn well that for all their insults and witticisms, the older martial artist had always been proud of his son. Now, however, that was gone. Genma had given her a blank look, then shook his head, turning his back to her where she stood, at the base of Phoenix Mountain. He said nothing, indicated nothing, as he spent a full minute in such a pose. Then, he simply left. The only sound she'd take from the memory of that day was of his footsteps on the rock as he made his way to the villages below. His dead gaze had said enough, and Ranma understood all too well the language of grief and loss, now.
She had never really imagined he'd go so far as to turn his back on her, however. She'd feared it, but never really expected for her own family to turn away from her. Raising a hand, whose fingers bore red scales near their tips and ended in wicked black talons, Ranma knew why. After all, she wasn't even fully human anymore, was she? How could she be his son, when not only was she female, but this? A bitter laugh bubbled up from somewhere within her, and her eyes stung suddenly. "It would seem you had the last laugh after all, eh, Jusenkyo?"
"My Lady?"
"Don't call me that!" Her shaky control snapping like so much spider-silk, the redhead lashed out, if not physically then with the force of her words, ki, and anger. Ranma's scream echoed around the room, then the outer hall, reverberating through the mountain homes of the Phoenix, rattling dust from their cavernous homes. Kiima shrank back at the unascended phoenix's rage, a lifetime of programming overriding her own brief experience with the one before her. She sank to her knees, the bauble in her hands clutched painfully to her breast, where its chill stung her, reminding Kiima what precisely it was she bore. As quick as it came, the wash of anger receded, and the white-haired woman found herself gasping for the breath she'd not realized she'd neglected. That panting halted, as she noted the slight frost along the ground, and the small flakes of almost-snow that fell to join it, as moisture was violently torn from the air suddenly.
Kiima stared up at her people's only hope for survival, and despaired.
–
"Magical bullshit," Ranma snarled at herself, reflected nude in the massive mirror of polished and silvered obsidian that had been placed in her room within the palace. Despite what she may feel for what she saw, Ranma took in the image as she did every morning since the change which had come only hours after the reality that she had won, only to ultimately lose set in.
That change had likely been the only thing that kept Mt. Phoenix standing, as it put her into a three-day sleep, letting the various parties that awaited her 'rebirth' to prepare.
Like anyone who wasn't a native of Mt. Phoenix, Ranma's gaze immediately snapped to her wings. It wasn't a hard decision for the eye to make, as they weren't small, nor were they subtle in color. Like her hair, they were primarily a bright crimson, though it was shot through with flecks of black here and there, much as her hair had become. Like others of the Phoenix people, her wings weren't the only location she bore feathers, and like Kiima she too had a small cluster of them that seemed to sprout from just behind her ears. They were smaller, and sharper than the royal retainer's own, and could blend in with her hair depending on how she set it. As long as she didn't let her attention grow too focused at least, that was. Ranma watched, her face set in stony neutrality as those feathers perked up slightly, fanning very delicately as she let her vision slip into a slight tunneled focus.
There were few other places she bore similar adornments, though to her private relief, the rest were more... inconspicuous. Time would tell if that remained so. Unlike Kiima, her shoulders were bare, as were her arms. The discovery that the usual red thatch of hair that she trimmed neatly when she had to be female for some time had been replaced by crimson down left her a in a quivering rage for hours. Her screams out outrage and denial had brought Kiima to her side in worry that first day, though from then forward she never barged in on the redhead again.
One brush with death was enough, for the royal retainer's taste.
Other changes were just as drastic. Her hands, once calloused and hardened by years of practice and work, had taken on an inhuman cast. Again, she differed from Kiima or the other Phoenix in that her entire hand wasn't covered in scaled flesh, but only the lower portion of her fingers and the upper surface, just behind where her talons now sprang. Those were not the weak, simple, fragile nails she'd borne before, but hooked and sharp, clearly made for use as weapons.
The color of her eyes hadn't changed, but like Saffron's, her pupils had become somewhat slitted, as if she needed more proof of her inhumanity somehow. With that change, her vision had altered as well, becoming impossibly sharp and clear. She could focus on things at had been unreal distances now, with clarity that was shocking. Even things close to her had an unusual sharpness and richness now, making Ranma wonder what all she'd missed with her lacking vision, for so long. She shoved those musings aside, cursing at the lapse in thinking. "Going on like this is not a good thing," she accused herself venomously. "No way am I gonna let myself get used to this."
Though others of the Phoenix didn't share the extremity of that difference in vision, all of those people had better visual acuity than even the best humans. No more did she wonder how the people of Phoenix Mountain could have stayed so isolated for so long. Their guards could see for miles, easily, warning those in their care to take cover well in advance of being seen or detected. Hunting was just as easy, as Ranma had seen one afternoon, brooding on a balcony that overlooked the many rolling valleys around the nearly-nascent volcano. She had watched as parties of three winged their way above the forests, circling for long minutes, sometimes nearly half an hour, before one would fall into a stooped dive, crashing through the canopy of the trees. Shortly, the other two would land less violently, and in just a few minutes, the three would be seen carrying some large game animal between them, in a great netted sling.
Most often their prey was taken alive. The Phoenix had a taste for very, very fresh meat. That too was something she shared with them, much to her own irritation. In fact, everything about her change was an irritation, and unlike before, Jusenkyo had not been merciful with allowing her merely one of its simple curses this time. This change she could not return from. No amount of hot or cold water would undo her current state, returning her to her birth form.
Ranma couldn't be sure, of course, as magic had been involved somehow, but having dealt with her curse for so long as well as that borne by her father and others, she could almost smell the particular stink of it in action. Clearly, destroying the taps at Jusendo had been a grave offense to the kami or spirit or demon that ruled the cursed spring, and with all the magically charged water, ki, and the inclusion of the Gekkaja and Kenjaken added in, the ground had been very fertile to work with. Whatever the details had been, the result was staring back at her, resembling her original cursed form heavily, but just as equally changed as well.
She stretched her wings, frowning slightly as muscles she was unused to moving flexed and rippled beneath her shoulders and back. Still startled by such drastic differences from what she knew, Ranma always had some trouble adjusting first thing in the mornings, as it seemed her mind reset nightly, in some vain hope she'd awaken human again.
Forget the gender curse, she'd have been satisfied with just being fully human again.
Heaving a sigh, she returned her gaze to less distracting and more familiar territory. "At least I grew a little," Ranma groused, though the change wasn't very much, or noticeable. Six centimeters, maybe seven if she was optimistic. Luckily, nothing else grew, she noted as her image in the mirror turned with her, cupping her ample breasts. Her proportions had been evened out slightly, matured with her growth, though Kiima assured her that in the next short while, she'd complete what normal maturation she could expect.
Thoughts of maturing ultimately lead to memories of the other halting talk Kiima had attempted with the unstable redhead, and the image in the mirror blushed hotly. Ranma swallowed nervously, as her eyes were drawn to the cleft of her very female sex, where it rested below that small patch of downy crimson feathers. For a very long time, only lapsing during the Cat-tongue pressure point incident, she had avoided remaining female long enough for that body's biology to catch up with her.
This new form's particular differences were not only unwelcome, but filled her with a kind of writhing dread that nearly sent her into hyperventilating. Oh, she wasn't like a common bird, that would lay eggs where human women would have their monthly cycles, but as the royal retainer had been firm in explaining, if she got... got pregnant, the result would be much different than what she'd grown up knowing.
Ranma shook those thoughts aside, hard. Buried them somewhere in the neighborhood where the Cat-fist was shacked up, and promptly zoned the area for demolition. With fire.
"No way in hell am I gonna get knocked up," she declared to her twin in the mirror, sharing a sharp nod between them. "So, don't need to think about that. Ever."
"Kiima-sensei, what does Ranma-obasan mean by 'knocked up'?"
Ranma's sharp intake of breath wasn't missed by the royal retainer, and Kiima cursed her own curiosity, leading her to stand silently at the redhead's door to take in the sight of the impressive figure as she inspected herself. Luck would have it that the other resident phoenix, currently resembling a five year-old, had managed to slip his minders and sneak off to find his elusive 'aunt'.
Quickly moving to the reborn child's side, Kiima spun him around in a vain attempt to salvage the situation along with Ranma's modesty. "Saffron-dono, it isn't proper to look in on someone when they aren't clothed."
The reborn child's orange-gold eyes blinked rapidly, as he frowned slightly. "But... Kiima-sensei, you were looking."
Blushing hotly in embarrassment, the woman closed her eyes, taking a deep, calming breath. "I... was waiting to announce myself." Hoping to end the spiral of humiliation and stave off any future danger, she continued, "Now, remember, Saffron-dono. You mustn't peep on others, alright? Always knock, or announce yourself."
Clearly confused, the young Lord nodded regardless. Kiima was his teacher, and the one that played with him and took care of him – she was to be trusted. He turned his head slightly, eyes trailing to the redhaired and feathered phoenix that was hurriedly pulling a robe about herself, clumsily. He had distracted his tutors because he wanted to meet and talk to another like himself, and he had heard a lot about the outsider phoenix that had arrived when he had been reborn. It was lonely being the only phoenix among their people, though he hadn't been awake very long, the sentiment was something he inherently knew for a fact. Wasn't Ranma lonely? Kiima seemed to think so. Maybe he would ask her to be his friend...
"Why's he here?" Ranma asked gruffly, before Saffron could gather his slight courage.
Kiima winced, not only at the woman's tone, but at her attempts to get the complex robe their kind favored on around her wings. "Ah, he... was likely just curious, and slipped those that watch him. You aren't exactly an unknown, and people talk." Moving hesitantly to the red phoenix's side, she held up her hands hesitantly, "may I help you?"
Ranma regarded the royal retainer and former Captain of the Guard icily before nodding once, slowly. Even as Kiima helped to settle the oddly-made robe about her shoulders, Ranma watched in the mirror to see how she did so. She didn't like others doing things so menial for her, and these robes confounded her. Where normally Ranma would just pull an arm into a sleeve, then reach back to repeat the process, now she had wings getting in the way. These robes, made for those with wings, had long slits along the back down to the hem, and a sewn-in belt that attached just above the hip on the center panel of cloth that was meant to rest between one's wings. That belt was was slid into loops on either side, essentially gathering the portions of the robe below the wings together, though the effect was similar to a high-cut dress if one had a long stride.
She watched as Kiima gathered up the material of the robe, draping it across her shoulders. Releasing it, the proper panels fell down, to either side and between her wings. The belt untangled and slid down as well, eliciting a shiver from the uncomfortable phoenix-girl. One thing she had to admit about her wings early on, was that they were vastly sensitive, bordering on ticklish. With the robe properly draped, Ranma pulled her arms into the wide sleeves, then reached around and back to loop and pull the belt tight, before tying it at her waist.
Clothed at least passingly, the recently remade phoenix turned to regard her unwelcome company. Blue eyes met gold, as they searched for any trace of the man that had cost her so much. After nearly a minute watching the small boy shiver in place at the intensity of her glare, Ranma let her gaze soften. "You don't... remember me, do you?"
Grasping onto her questioning tone, far preferring that to that stare she'd used, Saffron shook his head quickly. "No. Kiima-sensei tells me I had a life before this one, that I was reborn... but I don't remember much at all. Mostly impressions, and habits. She says that's normal, if things don't go right, and I can't prepare. I don't know what that means, but it scares me." Shivering a bit, the young phoenix moved to Kiima's side, clinging to the pale robe she wore.
"Without the full three days to stabilize, or a few hours to order one's thoughts, an ascended phoenix can't pass on their past-life's memories to their next incarnation," Kiima explained, reaching down to ruffle Saffron's hair lightly, calming the boy. "Saffron has lost all his history, all his memories."
Ranma nodded slowly, taking that at face value. For now. "So, you're in charge of him, this time? Not that old jerk we met?"
Kiima nodded, grimacing slightly at Ranma's derision towards the previous retainer. Deserved or not, he had been an honored elder. "Yes, I'm overseeing his education and upbringing myself. Before it was a position set as part of a Lord's rebirth preparations, but... current events altered that, of course." Offering Ranma a slight conspiratorial smile, Kiima continued, "Often the honor is left to the previous Lord's retainers, but even in the life before the one you knew, Saffron had been somewhat... unstable."
"No trust for those around him? Hell of a leader that'd make."
The bird-woman winced. "Something like that."
Crass Ranma may be, but she didn't want to talk about the boy in front of his face like this. Returning her attention to the youth, she quelled the urge to strike out, to snarl and demand he leave and never come near her again. More than any other perhaps, Ranma wanted him to grow up into a decent person, and being a vicious shrew around the boy wouldn't help things. "Don't worry about the past, kiddo. The future is what you live your life for, not the past." Kneeling down, she tilted the young phoenix's head up slightly, ignoring the tension in Kiima's posture at her familiarity with her charge. "These people depend on you, some, like Kiima here, live their entire lives just to help you out. Would be dishonorable to let them down, by becoming someone who didn't appreciate all that, and respect it."
"Dishonorable?"
Ranma smirked slightly. "Honor is big, but lucky for you, kid, I'm an expert. It's the things that you live by, the ideas and rules. It's the basis others judge us by, when deciding if we're worthy to be trusted, befriended, or cared about. Your honor is something only you have, since you'll decide what makes it up as you grow up.
"There's the honor of your family," Ranma explained, a shadow crossing her features. "That's something that affects everyone you're related to. Every action you take, reflects on that family, and if you're really good or bad, it can make others react to them differently."
Saffron's small frame twitched slightly at the topic. "But... I don't really have a family."
Shaking her head, Ranma pointed to Kiima, where she stood beside them. "Maybe not like a mom or pop, but you've got her, and she's been filling in for both of them. I say that kinda counts, don't you?"
A smile blossoming on his face, Saffron nodded enthusiastically. "Right!"
"So, remember – everything you decide to do, reflects on her too," Ranma pointed out, taking some small satisfaction at the royal retainer's unease at the topic. She figured it had something to do with her likely contaminating their impressionable little Lord's mind with counterproductive ideas, but if she had to deal with him running around and seeing her naked, then he could deal with a little outside point of view. "Then, there's the honor of your people. In this, you have less of a direct hand... unless you're the leader. Then, everything you do is put under lights. No hiding. Someone, somewhere, knows what you did, and that'll get around. It's also bound up into the actions of them as a whole. Best way to keep them in line, is to lead by example by being a good role model, and be swift and fair with justice."
Beside the intense redhead, Saffron shivered. "That's... a lot to think about."
"Nah," Ranma offered with a crooked grin. "Honor's easy. Just do the right thing, and make sure Kiima there doesn't engage you to a bunch of random people." She missed the odd look Kiima shot her, at her inclusion in this conversation. "Follow those, and you'll build that idea of honor up real fast, and get the hang of it easy."
"Just do the right thing?" Saffron's head tilted slightly. "How do I know what's the right thing?"
This Ranma had less of an answer for, but decided to give it a shot, anyway. "Find people that are happy, and that make those around them happy. Follow their lead. If you need a good example though," Ranma tilted his head at the white-haired woman beside them. "Try her, nowadays. She's been doing pretty good, even by my standards now that things have calmed down."
Turning to Kiima as well, Ranma favored the bird-woman with a predatory smile, displaying the slightly elongated and sharper teeth that the phoenix bore. "Get him some comic books, sometime. Something with a good, solid hero. Best way to get that whole right and wrong, good and evil mess taken care of early on."
Grudgingly, the royal retainer nodded. "I shall look into it." Turning to her young charge, she spotted the reborn Lord's minders coming their way. "As for you, young Lord, if you have any questions about honor and who you should look to, I say your best example is your Auntie Ranma." The former Captain solidly refused to acknowledge Ranma's glare by seeing it. "She is the one, after all, that we are trying to model ourselves after these days."
Saffron looked between the startled redhead and her teacher with wide eyes. "Really? I'll remember that, Kiima-sensei."
"N-Now, hold on a minute-"
"For now, however, it would be best to go back with your minders. Your lessons aren't done for the day."
Nodding, the young Lord took the hand that was offered by one of his tutors. "Right, I need to study more so I can grow up to be honorable like Ranma-obasan, and make everyone happy."
Her complaints died in her throat, as the reincarnated source of her current woes scampered off after such a comment. A long, uncomfortable minute stretched out between the two, before Ranma spoke again, quietly, "That... was remarkably unfair of you."
"I am an old dog, as the saying goes. New tricks aren't something I'll be quick to pick up on," the former Captain replied with a hint of apology in her voice. Scanning the room that Ranma had been given, she found a small chair, and sat, motioning for her company to have a seat on her bed. "As for looking up to you as a role model, I can see no wrong there. None of us could best you, and while you hold the Kinjakan and Gekkaja, the ascension of any Lords for our people depends on your good will." Kiima favored her with a small smile, "I can't imagine living up to your expectations would disqualify him from taking his rightful place some day."
"Sooner than I'd have imagined," Ranma grunted, flopping onto the wide cushioned bed with an utter lack of grace. "It's been what? A week? He already looks five."
Kiima nodded, having expected this kind of reaction on seeing the reborn Lord. "Phoenix, true ones like Saffron and... yourself," she admitted despite Ranma's sharp glare, "age quickly to maturity. Very quickly, but it can be accelerated to a degree with pure hot Jusendo water."
Frowning, Ranma mulled that over for a moment. "Won't that mess with him? Skipping so much time?"
Shaking her head slowly, Kiima heaved a sigh. If Ranma hadn't been a phoenix herself, she could simply refuse to answer, but the law of her people stated that whether she liked it or not, whether she took up the mantle of a Lord or refused it, she was entitled to know the things she asked. Kiima only wished the redhead was less curious, considering her dubious loyalties. However, she would answer her questions, and hopefully make inroads to the woman's trust. Regardless of how quickly Saffron progressed, it wouldn't be fast enough. They needed Ranma, now, and showing trust themselves would likely be the key to getting her on their side. "Most of what we 'skipped' were the years where instinct and reflex become ingrained. One can argue that the time spent as an infant is vital in forming language and other behavioral bases, but much of that survived Saffron's rebirth.
"The cruelty and maliciousness you encountered will not be allowed to return. He is a curious, happy, joyful child, and this time we hope to guide him into being a leader we can be proud of, rather than fear."
"Big claims," Ranma replied dismissively, earning her another frown from the former Captain. "We'll see when he gets there. And I will be there. No way am I gonna write a blank check for him, on your promises."
Kiima shrugged, though it stung her pride that the phoenix before her trusted her so little. Stung and worried her. Ranma made no attempt at all since her change to speak to another of the Phoenix on her own, which made her, by default, the one that liaised between the foreigner and the elders and advisors to the throne. Sure, many came to try and see the abrasive young phoenix-woman, but few were allowed to actually speak with her. The situation was frankly too precarious. One wrong word or action, and they would be left to wither and die in their mountain home.
Some days Kiima felt Ranma singled her out in such a way, just to compound her troubles and difficulties. Sighing, she decided to move forward with another tactic. Brutal, unvarnished honesty. "My Lady... Ranma," she amended, seeing the redhead's glare, "there is another reason we have been trying to gain your favor and trust."
"I noticed," the remade phoenix replied, clicking her talons slightly by running her thumb's claw along the underside of the others slowly. It was a new nervous tick, replacing the redhead's previous habit of scratching at the base of her braid. Such an act would draw blood, now. "I mean, it's kind of obvious with how hard you're trying, and how people are either leaving me alone or bowing and scraping when I show up."
"You recall... before his rebirth, how Saffron explained what a true phoenix is to our people?"
"Something like a power source. Heat and light, wasn't it?" Flipping around, Ranma settled onto her stomach, wings draped on the bed at her sides restfully. Propping her chin on her folded hands, the redhead considered the question further, "but, then why all the fuss? I mean, it wouldn't be hard to do something like they have in other places... I think it was called geothermal energy, or something. This is a volcano."
Kiima shook her head, leaning back against the small chair to relax her tense shoulders. "No, nothing so mundane, really. On the surface, perhaps it would seem so." Seeing no other way to truly explain things, she stood wearily. "Come, this will be easier to show, rather than try and speak of."
Shrugging, Ranma stood and stretched. "Fine. Though, I wish you'd done this sooner."
"I wanted you to make whatever decisions you settled on, for yourself, without outside pressure," Kiima replied curtly, striding ahead of the petite phoenix. "I know enough about your honor and how highly you esteem it, to understand that you can be used by it quite easily. Those companions of yours made such quite clear as well."
Scowling, Ranma's disinterested walk became a stomping trod. "Well excuse me for having morals. At least I don't go around brainwashing people to do my job for me."
Grinding her teeth, Kiima focused on her memories of flying, of soaring above the volcano on vast cushions of air until her temper subsided. "You misunderstand, My Lady. I didn't explain our situation because I didn't want to trap you, in your own honor, Highness."
It was Ranma's turn to twitch and grit her teeth. "Alright, I get it. Sorry."
Kiima contented herself with that, knowing she was already pushing things as well. The walk was fairly long and silent, as they made their way into the deeper core of the volcano, passing from darkened rock corridors, into crystalline tunnels that seemed to have been left behind from flows of magma. "Our neighbors, the Joketsuzoku and the Musk don't have the requirements we do for something beyond our own nature, simply to survive. Each of them depend on Jusenkyo for something, true, but not us. Our bond is different.
"The 'Amazons', as some of those from Nerima called the Joketsuzoku, use the springs as a tool, but mostly as a punishment. They saw the curses as simply that, and nothing more," she explained, pausing by a large ornate doorway that had a strange lock. Gesturing Ranma forward, she indicated the five spread depressions in the massive bronze lock, where it sat between the two huge doors. "Place your fingers in the holes. It will sting, by the way." Muttering, Ranma did as she was asked, flinching slightly as what felt like tiny needles stabbed into her fingertips. "The door verifies the blood of the one before it."
Ranma nodded, as the massive structure opened on silent hinges. "So, only... true phoenix can enter?" Ranma asked with some hesitation.
His guide shook her head. "They decide," she indicated, sweeping a hand out into the massive cavern that the doors revealed.
Moving forward to get a better look inside the massive room that had been revealed, Ranma first noted the low, dimly pulsing light that barely pushed back the thick gloom beyond. Once her eyes quickly adjusted, the redhead gasped, drawing back slightly. There in the middle of the room, a massive pillar rose, looking more like the result of years of water acting on stone than anything lava could form. The column spanned the entire height of the cavern rising smoothly from a polished floor that bore no other natural or artificial structures. The dim light she'd seen pulsing and illuminating the room came from that same pillar, its timing resembling a heartbeat more than anything else. Feeling a none-too-subtle pull against her ki, Ranma stumbled forward, her gaze finally fixing on the massive thing's details.
Faces. Bodies... it looked like there were thousands upon thousands of them, entwined, embracing, sleeping... "W-W-What is that?"
"Hope for the future," Kiima replied in a tone of reverence. "This is where the Phoenix people go to rest when their lives are done."
Ranma swallowed audibly, backing away another step. "A graveyard?"
Kiima surprised her by spinning Ranma around to face her, a dire expression on her face. "Don't compare the hope of the Ancestors to such a meaningless thing," the white-haired woman hissed, her talons digging uncomfortably into Ranma's shoulders. "While your people had barely mastered the use of bronze hammers to better bash in their neighbor's skulls, our Bright Lords had already carved this mountain into homes for us. We were spinning silks while you were wallowing around in thatch and roots. Yes, our culture is isolated, but we still have it. Can you say the same? How many times have you Japanese been conquered? By religion, by force? The Phoenix have lost to only one foe and that was due to our own mistakes, not another's power." Kiima's eyes narrowed at the redhead, as she spoke again, "And that one stands before me, here."
"Who do you think made those taps, in Jusendo?" Kiima challenged into the silence that stretched between them. "Who do you think it was that kept the Musk from becoming the next wave of Huns?" She shoved the wide-eyed phoenix away, if gently, her expression losing some of its heat. "I'm... sorry, but if one of us came into your home and asked about your little curio cabinet with the picture and incense, you would be equally as put out I imagine."
Licking her lips nervously, Ranma nodded. "Yeah. I get it, sorry." Straitening, the young woman looked at the pillar again, seeing the expressions there, now that her mind had come to at least partial terms with the reality of what she was seeing. "They look... peaceful."
Taking a stilling breath, Kiima nodded. "They are. The Ancestors sleep and dream here eternally. Their spirits fuel the magic that let our people be what we are. But... the spell isn't perfect."
"What do you mean?" Ranma took a hesitant step forward again, frowning slightly in concentration as she tried to feel out the ki in her surroundings. When her senses neared the pillar, she snapped her probing ki back as if burned. The thing was strong, potent, insanely so. The energy was different, though. It felt... denser, but less pliable.
Closing the doors behind them, Kiima paused, considering her next words. "When Saffron told you of the Phoenix Lord's duties to their people, he was being in many ways figurative, as he was taught. It isn't good for a child to know that their entire people's livelihood rests on their shoulders as they grow.
"The truth of it is, our people need a... go-between. A conduit, between us and the Ancestors, so that the magic that maintains us can continue."
Beginning to see where this was going, Ranma's frown deepened. "Let me guess, you need a true phoenix."
"Yes," Kiima agreed, her tone bearing nothing but frank truth. "The Phoenix have depended on their Lords for as long as our history has been recorded. It is through them that our wings are strong letting us soar in the skies, and that our eyes are sharp so that we may enjoy the days. You were no doubt told a brief history of our people by the Amazon, Ku Lon, but do you think her fireside fairytales hold all the truth?"
"I think the old ghoul is allergic to whole truths, to be honest," Ranma replied with some annoyance. "She told us your people came from a spring here on Mt. Phoenix, that a bird drowned in."
Kiima snorted indelicately. "An Amazon trait, for certain. Yes, our own spring was one that bore the bird curse, but it has long-since dried up. It disappeared when the first true phoenix came to us.
"She was different than us, having no curse, but bearing the gifts of both our avian natures and our human forms. She offered us a choice, where we could be as she was, or remain as we were. The cost was not so high, we thought. All we had to do, was let ourselves be ruled by this powerful creature. It was a dream come true.
"And, unlike some tales, it was. She was a just and kind ruler, gifted with magic and free with her knowledge." The woman's tone took on a wistful quality, "She taught us how to harness the volcano to make a home of it, rather than letting it constantly overshadow us with fear. Taught us to fly, and hunt on the wing. Eventually, as she grew older, it became clear that our people depended on her for the special magics that let our kind do these amazing things." Kiima smiled ruefully. "As you have likely thought before, there is no purely rational explanation for much of our abilities."
Grinning sheepishly, Ranma nodded. "Part of why I don't try and fly. I don't think I should be able to."
"It is a good thing you never tried then," the former Captain responded dryly. "As you would have failed, without the proper mindset. But, returning to my story... When her time was nearly done, she asked us if we wanted to continue as we were, and what we were willing to pay. Most would agree that suddenly giving us that choice was cruel, but there were many that remembered a time where they could mingle with those outside without worry. Some left the phoenix then, but more remained.
"The cost was this," Kiima continued, walking up to place a hand along the massive pillar. Where her fingers touched, the dim light spread and intensified. "'For a phoenix never dies, but is reborn in flames, eternal', was her promise. And it was true, both literally and figuratively. She died, and was renewed, but it also applies to us as a people.
"Each time one our number nears death, they come to this place and take up their fate with the other Ancestors. Their hope and dreams for their children and friends fuel the magic that sparks new life in our people, and allows them to continue on as they are," the former Captain explained in quiet reverence. Her fingers left the pillar, and a lingering handprint remained behind. "But, we need the pattern to fully grasp it. A true phoenix, ascended."
Ranma found a place to sit, slumping to the ground. "And we messed it up."
Moving to the recently remade young woman's side, Kiima offered her an understanding smile, her hand lingering on the petite figure's shoulder. "We did not handle things well. Much of who we are builds its pattern off of our Lords. Saffron's... selfishness translated to my own hastiness to be done with my work. Rather than speaking civilly with the man who had our map-"
"Your map?"
Kiima nodded, "Really, why would the Guide need a map to Jusendo? Did he even know the secret it held? Only the Phoenix use the taps, and the Kinjaken and Gekkaja are creations we made to control them."
Nodding, Ranma admitted the logic of her words. "The Guide told us that the Phoenix would end up draining Jusenkyo. We panicked over the loss of our cures."
"All this time dealing with Amazons, and they never told you there was no cure? At least, none that are known?"
The pit of Ranma's stomach fell at that, a cold weariness settling over her. It should have made sense... Ku Lon would have, if nothing else, changed Xian Pu's curse, knowing her fear. It would have been frankly stupid to insist he marry someone who could at any time throw her into a berserk fury. "No cure?"
Seeing the young phoenix's sadness, Kiima steeled herself, leaning down to give her a hug. "No. Nothing that the three tribes of Jusenkyo have tried has worked. But, disregarding that, we have more sense than to annoy the spirits that haunt the springs by permanently draining them. They have, after all, survived many phoenix rebirths."
Sighing, Ranma nodded slowly. "It was all just one huge screw-up, wasn't it?"
"In a way," Kiima agreed, laughing quietly at the young phoenix's wording. "A lack of communication and tolerance on both sides. Patience and a bit more understanding would have served everyone better than the hasty actions we all took."
"You'd still have Saffron, and Akane..."
Mood darkening, the former Captain patted the young woman's shoulder lightly, before resting her hand along the small of her back. Hazarding the chance, she hardened her resolve. This was the best time, of any, "I am sorry for pulling her into things."
Anger flashed through Ranma, as she realized the truth of those words, only to be snuffed out by an image of Saffron's frozen body shattering, before dissolving into flames. "...at least you got Saffron back," she muttered, not quite dulling the edge in her voice.
"There is still hope for your friend-"
"Stop," Ranma demanded, her tone brittle. "...please. I know, alright." Getting her breathing under control, the martial artist struggled to do the same with her warring emotions. "That she might... die. And... and I'm sure that Akane did too. She was... uncute, and a violent maniac, a lousy cook, and she got on my last damn nerve some days but..." The redhead tried to stave off her sniffling, but the effort only made her stifled sobs worse. "I think I loved her. I think she... she may have loved me too."
Kiima's hand made small circles on the distressed young woman's back. "I saw. I think she did as well."
Ranma nodded, tears now welling and falling freely. "Yeah. I gotta... stop lyin' to myself about it all."
Regardless of what she'd wanted, the former Captain nodded silently. They'd tried to appease the redhead with their most powerful stasis spell... but it was clear Akane's spirit had departed long before they managed it. True, there were some dire magics that could return her spirit to that body, but neither she nor Ranma were the kind of person to take that avenue. Necromancy wasn't something to dabble in lightly, and the Phoenix were almost naturally opposed to such things. "I am... not the first person that you should speak with about such a thing," Kiima admitted hesitantly. "But if you need someone to talk with..."
"Not like I got anyone else," the despondent redhead quietly moaned. Gathering herself and calming her nerves, the remade young woman managed to get her emotions under control. She didn't understand wholly why, but since her transformation, it had been hard to keep herself calm. Any little things seemed to set her off. "But I appreciate it.
"C'mon. You pulled me down here for a reason," she deflected, trying desperately to change the subject. "I mean, the... um, your Ancestors are neat and all, but why bring me here? I'm sure it wasn't just to talk about how we both messed up."
Kiima took Ranma's words for what they were, knowing she needed more time. To be brutally honest, Kiima knew she wasn't ready for so much emotion either. "As you say. I wanted you to understand what it is your rebirth did for us. Without your accidental – albeit, very welcome – transformation, our people would have began withering and sickening, some dying, as the magics that sustain us became wild and unfocused."
Ranma blinked rapidly at that. "What... you mean Saffron doesn't count now?"
Shaking her head slowly, Kiima indicated a negative. "No, he is yet too young, and we cannot accelerate his growth any more, not for many years. He must learn and mature at his own pace for some time, but the span between now and then would leave the Phoenix a broken, nearly wholly dead people."
Shivering where she sat upon cold stone, Ranma let her mind slowly wander across such an idea, refusing to wholly take it in, in one piece. The Phoenix were that dependent on their Lords? And they got some kind of patterning from them, she reminded herself, recalling a part of the earlier conversation. Smaller puzzle pieces snapped into place then, and she blinked owlishly. Did that mean that now, since apparently she was the pattern... they were taking after her, subtly?
It would explain that strange conversation earlier about honor, Ranma admitted to herself. The largest issue loomed, however, refusing to be ignored any longer. "I'm the one keeping you all alive...?"
"I know it wasn't something you or we intended, but chance or some design gave us the chance to live, through you." Kiima looked toward the Ancestor's Rest, a distant cast to her face. "No one asked you. And up till now, no one risked telling you, because if you renounced us or found some way to break your change, we would die."
"Why did you tell me, then?"
Kiima smirked, causing Ranma to blink rapidly. That expression looked far too familiar. "Because it was the right thing to do."
AN: Decided I wanted things to go a different way, and so started Lux.