1

Far out at sea, bathed in breeze

After the failed wedding, he left Nerima.

It's what he had been meaning to do since before the wedding, of course. It wasn't like he had even meant to attend in the first place and more like he had just sort of wound up there, and naturally right in the midst of chaos. Before he knew it, he was fighting over a cask of Nannichuan water with all the others similarly afflicted with a Jusenkyo curse. And, equally as naturally, remained as such when the dust had settled and the debris had been cleared.

Needless to say, he was more eager to leave town after that than ever before.

Perhaps it was this surge in determination to get out of the Furinkan ward far and fast that made it so that Ryoga Hibiki actually managed to get to where he intended to go, for once. Or it was just an odd bit of luck, which was very odd indeed, considering it was him. And he was never lucky.

But maybe, just maybe, the gods were taking pity on him. Maybe they recognized his good intentions, and had decided, just once, to spare him.

That suspiciously good fortune managed to get him all the way back to China. The last place one would think Ryoga would wish to be, after everything that occurred there. And he had never expected he would be back, especially after discovering the Jusenkyo grounds had been flooded by a torrential downpour. He thought the springs would have been damaged from the flood beyond repair, that any chance of a cure was quite literally washed away. But seeing that cask at the wedding changed everything. It was the glimmer of hope that Ryoga had needed.

Why the Jusenkyo Guide had only bothered to send enough water for one was beyond him, but Ryoga planned to make sure he was led right to the spring's edge. Once he managed to locate Jusenkyo itself, of course.

That would be the tricky part.

Then the easy part: a cure. And he'd make sure a cask was sent back to Japan, one each for all who were cursed.

Maybe that way, Ranma and Akane could tie their knot in relative peace. Although they'd probably have more success if they just eloped or something. Or perhaps slip all the suitors some sleeping powder to knock them out long enough to get the papers signed, at least.

Either way, he wasn't going to get involved anymore.

Seeing the way Ranma had fought for Akane so desperately while Ryoga watched from the sidelines as her life dangled by a precarious thread, how Ranma had held her seemingly lifeless body and screamed out her name, Ryoga had realized then that his schoolboy crush on the first girl to show him kindness was easily trumped by the love those two had for one another.

To stand in the way of that any longer would be a discredit to everything Ranma had done to save the girl he loved.

Besides, he had Akari, someone who knew every side of him and loved him regardless. The only person who perhaps might be a little crestfallen if she knew that he was planning to get rid of the blasted pig for good.

It took him four months.

Four months, and nine days. And then, finally, he was standing on the grounds of Jusenkyo once again. He could have crumpled to the ground in relief and exhaustion, but instead he marched himself into the Jusenkyo Guide's hut and demanded to see the Spring of Drowned Man.

The Guide and Plum were in the middle of lunch when Ryoga arrived, and the Guide was loath to abandon his meal but agreed begrudgingly to show Ryoga to the proper spring, grumbling under his breath in Mandarin as he rose from the table. Plum also sprung to her feet, right on their heels as all three went back out the door and towards the springs.

"Watch your step!" exclaimed Plum, "Very bad should you fall in spring! Not know what happen when two curses mix, best not to find out!"

"Customer come very long way," said the Guide as they weaved delicately around the many springs, "Could have just sent a letter, would have sent more. Left return address with first cask of spring water sent, you no see? Only sent one 'cause not sure if water no good, after heavy rainfall. It work for you?"

Ryoga felt his eyelid twitch. "It got mistaken for sake and was drunk by a withered old pervert."

The Guide made an awed sound and then clicked his tongue. "My, my. No one ever drink from cursed spring before, no idea what it do. Maybe it give bad luck for one thousand year."

Ryoga scoffed. "One can only hope," he said, "But unfortunately I think it just gave him some bad indigestion. Or maybe that was because he ate half the wedding cake, and most of it was charred from the explosions…"

The Guide stared down Ryoga for a long moment, then muttered, "You ones that fall in springs all crazy little shits, yes."

"Bàba!"

"Ah, sorry, Plum."

"We here, customer!" Plum announced, ignoring her father, "Look, this spring here is nannichuan, Spring of Drowned Man. Very tragic story of—oh, there he go."

Ryoga had already shucked off his travel pack and dumped it to the ground before jumping into the spring with a loud splash, which had Plum leaping backward with a worried yelp as some of the spring water splattered to the grass inches from her feet. The Guide simply watched the water ripple as he scratched an inch on his nose.

After a moment, before the water could settle, Ryoga burst out of the surface with a gasp and then let out a long, loud holler of triumph as he threw his arms into the air.

"It worked! I'm cured, I'm finally cured!"

"Yes, yes, good-good-good. Now we can go back to lunch before it get cold." Guide mumbled, already turning to walk back to his hut, hands clasped behind his back.

"Come have lunch with us, Mr. Customer!" Plum called, although she wasn't entirely certain Ryoga was even listening as he splashed around in the spring giddily.

After several more minutes of joyous frivolity, Ryoga joined Plum and the Guide back in the hut, where they talked over heaping bowls of mapo tofu on rice.

"I want to send some water back to Japan," Ryoga explained, "enough for everyone. Three casks of drowned man water, and a cask of drowned girl."

"What, in case pigtailed customer change mind about cure?" Plum asked.

Ryoga paused in lifting his cup of jasmine tea to his lips, and raised a curious eyebrow at Plum. "Um…n-no, it's…for Shampoo?"

"Ah, Plum see."

"Can send water to other customer no problem, if customer pay air fare." Guide said around his bite of tofu, "I send last time as gift, no do for free this time. Especially since sending more."

Normally Ryoga might have been a bit annoyed by that, but he was currently on cloud nine and nothing was going to dampen his mood. Not even the wallet-gouging prices of air-mail delivery.

Ryoga stayed with Plum and the Guide for the night, and then preparations were made to have three casks of Nannichuan and one cask of Nyannichuan sent back to Japan. Thankfully the Guide already had the address for the Tendo Dojo, because there was no way Ryoga would have been able to tell him where to send the packages himself.

Ryoga thanked his hosts for their help and their hospitality, and then he set off with a skip in his step despite his burdensome travel pack, and a map that Plum gave him. Unfortunately, he really couldn't make heads or tails of it, and not just because it was all in Chinese. But it was a thoughtful gesture nonetheless.

It was a long trek through the mountains, but after all these years he had grown accustomed to this traveling vagabond lifestyle. If only there was a cure for his family's abysmal sense of direction. But he had been to a lot of different places and had never heard of a magic spring that would allow him to read a map.

Maybe there was some kind of bewitched sextant, supernatural astrolabe or enchanted compass, somewhere out there in the world. Perhaps, now that he was rid of the pig, that could be his next venture.

One thing at a time, though. For now, his next task was to get back home to Japan. Back to Akari.

And even if there weren't any actual magical navigational objects out there, Akari could be his reason for staying in one place. Why would he need to go anywhere else if he was already home, after all?

The tricky part was getting home.

Ryoga had always been a firm believer in karma. What goes around, comes around. The fact he had finally gotten a cure, and ensured all of his friends their own cures, should have given him a golden ticket from the gods for certain.

But karma always seemed to be a cruel mistress to one Ryoga Hibiki, good deed or no. For him, bad things always followed the good.

And Ryoga had just done a very, very good thing.

So, naturally, something very, very bad was bound to happen.

Better mosey before all that karma caught up with him.

Paying for the air delivery for those casks tapped Ryoga's already dreadfully dwindling funds almost entirely dry. He scarcely had enough for a bus ride, let alone a plane, or a ferry, or anything else that could get him across the sea and back to Japan.

But he wasn't cursed anymore, so that meant he could swim it easily enough. He'd done it before, back when he'd followed Ranma to China. He could do it again.

And so he began to swim. It felt good to be able to be submerged in water without being instantly filled with dread. To feel his hands carving through the waves, his strong legs kicking up sea foam. To not be a helpless little piglet struggling to keep its snout above water.

He swam and he swam.

And then, there was a storm.

Knowing him, he'd likely been severely off-course anyway, storm or no storm. But a storm certainly didn't help matters any. Especially not a storm like this storm, a monsoon where he was battered by the thundering seas, knocked about like a bug in a shaken jar. His limbs grew heavy, he swallowed too much sea water, his vision went black—

Somehow, he awoke, laying half out of the now-steadied and calm ocean waves lapping gently at his legs as though they hadn't just chewed him up and spat him back out hours before.

His left cheek was plastered against hot, gritty sand. Ryoga rolled onto his back with a pained groan, squinting up at the bright sun as he took a moment to assess his situation.

First of all, he was missing a shoe.

That was less than ideal.

Secondly, his travel pack was gone.

That was a problem.

That meant a lot of nice souvenirs for Akari were now likely at the bottom of the ocean. And they hadn't been cheap, either. Drat.

Also, it meant no food, no canteen, no cookware, no tent, no nothing but the soaked clothes clinging to his back.

This was going to be a bit of a minor setback.

With a grunt, Ryoga dragged himself up out of the sand and onto his feet. He had no idea where he was, but it wasn't like that was an unusual thing for him.

This was no big deal. He just needed to look for water, food, and shelter. That should put him to rights. No reason to lose his cool just yet; he'd be fine once he found his bearings.

Not really an easy feat for him. But now that he wasn't on a time crunch with perishable souvenirs, he had the luxury of time on his hands, if literally nothing else.

First off was to try to find some civilization. Find that, and the rest would come easily enough. Just one person, one good samaritan that will get him fed and watered, and then he could keep on making for home.

So he walked.

And walked.

And walked.

And walked.

All he needed was one person. But instead all he found was trees and sand. And more trees. And more sand. And a big chunk of coral that jabbed into the heel of his shoeless foot like the world's worst piece of Lego.

Thanks to the recent heavy rain, Ryoga managed to stumble upon a few deposits of groundwater. Which meant death by dehydration was one thing he could scratch off the list. Little victories.

Some time later, and not a moment too soon, he found papaya trees. He didn't even really like papaya that much, but he ate three in quick succession.

Food, check.

But still no people.

Water became harder to come by. The groundwater dried up, and it wasn't easy for him to track down those papaya trees again, not having a clue where he'd stumbled upon them to begin with. There were some coconuts, and all three of the bastards were dried up and brown inside.

And still no people.

Even for a directionless fool like him, it wouldn't take a bewitched sextant, supernatural astrolabe or enchanted compass to eventually figure out that he was on an island.

An uninhabited and sparsely vegetated island somewhere way, way out in the Sea of China. Or maybe he wasn't even in China, anymore. Who knows how far off-course he swam, how far the monsoon had swept him?

He didn't know where in the hell he was.

But what he knew for certain is that his luck had officially run out.