----------
The voice of the Ancient One filled Ranma's mind, quiet, and yet infinitely commanding.
"*Go, now, to your place of eternal rest.*"
The liquid fire bled from his limbs, out his fingers and the soles of his feet, and suddenly he could move again. He turned to Akane, even as it seemed that he was moving away from her... "Akane..." he called, and his own voice was loud in his ears.
He was moving without moving, and she was running after him, her hands outstretched. But even as she ran towards him, she seemed to fade away from before his eyes, as if a thick veil of mist had risen between them. "Ranma," she called, her voice dwindling. "Ranma, I love you..."
"Akane!" He tried to move towards her but the gesture meant nothing as the mists thickened before him. "I'll come back, I swear..."
And then, he heard the sound of rushing water behind him, and he turned...
...and saw nothing but shimmering pale blue, filling his entire field of vision so that he saw nothing else, even when he turned back the way he had come. All around him, above him, beneath him, as far as he could see. Pale, shimmering blue, like a washed-out desert sky.
"Where--" he said, and then choked as his mouth filled with water. It was only then that he felt the cool, wet pressure of it against his skin and his open eyes; felt the mild currents flowing around him, lifting and tugging at his clothes and his dark hair.
Several realizations struck him at once. He was under water. Under water, and he could *feel* it, and it was wonderful, after the near-complete sensory deprivation he had just experienced during his brief stint as a hungry ghost on the Ancient One's mountain.
Another realization. He was under water -- cold water at that -- and he was still male.
Also -- and this was on the rather negative side of things - - his lungs were starting to burn from lack of air.
Some rational part of him that wasn't buried under the sudden flare of panic that gripped him wondered how he could drown if he was already dead. But if he was dead, he was dead in a place where he felt incredibly, vibrantly alive with the restoration of his sense of touch, as well as the apparent need to breathe, and if the dead could die twice, he didn't want to wait around to find out.
He began swimming instinctively upwards, though there was no way to tell if all this water that he found himself submerged in even had a surface to reach. The water looked the same in all directions; pale blue, no distinguishing light or shadow to let him know if he was swimming in the right direction. His single, surprised exclamation had not even created any air bubbles for him to follow to safety.
*Maybe the dragon screwed up,* he thought with a mixture of annoyance and fear. That was the way his life, and death, went, apparently. One big screw-up after another. *I was supposed to go to the Japanese afterlife, but instead I ended up in some crazy water dimension.*
His swimming became more frantic and determined as the burning in his lungs increased. He cursed mentally, thinking about how, less than five minutes ago, he hadn't been able to breathe even if he'd wanted to. That particular nuisance would have been a blessing in this current circumstance. On top of that, he was just getting used to not needing to breathe! It wasn't fair to change the rules on him like this, dammit!
His lungs were on fire, the strength was leaching from his limbs, and his fingertips were turning blue when he finally saw a wavering light far above him. Or maybe it was just an illusion; a hallucination caused by the lack of oxygen to his brain. He didn't know, didn't care. Spurred on by the sight, he pumped his legs furiously and felt a twinge of relief when the light seemed to grow closer through his effort. And then he could actually see bright sunlight filtering down through the water, see it rippling across the surface, and he pushed himself for it. After an infinite moment, his fingers straining upwards, he broke through the surface into crisp, clean air that he eagerly took into his aching lungs with a heaving gasp. Before his weight could pull him back down, he kicked his legs to keep his head above water...
... and felt his bare feet touch down on something soft and silty, that pushed between his toes, and yet stopped him from sinking further.
Ranma, still gratefully gulping air, blinked in surprise and looked down. The crystal clear water only came up to his mid- torso. Below the surface of the water, he could see that he was standing on a bed of gray sand that sifted and swirled around his feet with the current.
"...the hell?" he said, thoroughly confused and irritated at this point.
"Oh, you don't want to go there," said a voice, and he looked up, startled, to see a young woman, wearing a deep red summer kimono with an intricate pattern of green leaves, kneeling, poised and graceful, on the nearby grassy bank. She smiled at him, and he saw that she wasn't as young as he first thought, for there were laugh wrinkles at the corners of her dark, glittering eyes.
"Who are you?" Ranma asked.
"Just a dead soul, like yourself," she answered casually. "I'm waiting for reincarnation."
Ranma took that in. "So..." he said slowly. "This *is* the afterlife?"
"Yes," she answered patiently, as though she had dealt with this sort of thing before. "You're dead. Don't worry, you'll get used to it."
"It's not that." Ranma had had plenty of time to get used to the idea of being dead, and he didn't want this woman to think he was some sort of novice or anything. "I just thought I might have gotten lost on the way here or something." Now it was the woman's turn to blink in surprise. "I came from China, see," he explained. "And I didn't think that almost drowning was part of getting here," he added irritably. "Is that the way everyone gets here? They die, and suddenly find themselves several hundred meters under water?" Ranma didn't know if it really was that far, but it had felt like it.
The woman was looking at him oddly. "You almost drowned?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as if she didn't quite believe him. "I was wondering why you made such a big production, coming out of the river like that, gasping like a fish out of water."
Ranma frowned. "So it wasn't like that for you?"
She shook her head. "I was only under for a few moments. Just long enough to realize that I was dead, and that the surface of the river was just above me."
Ranma had a million questions then, but was struck with a sudden morbid curiosity. "So... how did you die?" he said carefully, hoping it wasn't some sort of taboo question.
But she just shrugged. "Car accident," she said. "I was on my way to a festival. Found out too late that it's best not to drive a stick shift wearing a tight-wrapped yukata and wooden sandals."
Ranma blinked, not knowing what to say to that. He was about to ask how long she had been sitting there waiting for reincarnation, when suddenly the river bed seemed to shift under his feet, and a strong current took hold of him, pushing him a full meter downstream so fast that he nearly lost his balance and plunged all the way under the water again. "Whoa!" he yelled, and he struggled against it, trying to wade for the bank where the lady was sitting, but the more he struggled, the stronger the current became. "What the hell is this?"
"Don't fight it," the woman called out to him. "It's okay, this happens to everyone. Once the river has you, it will send you where you are supposed to be."
Ranma didn't like the sound of that. He wasn't sure where he was supposed to be, but he knew where he wanted to be. He had to find Emma-o, the Lord of the Hells. He twisted in the water, trying to see where the river was pushing him.
His eyes widened as he got a good look at the river for the first time. He hadn't realized that it was so... huge.
And that he was not alone in its waters.
The river looked to be nearly a mile wide. And it was full of people. Hundreds, maybe thousands of people. The more he looked, the more he gradually became aware of them, their forms slowly appearing before his eyes. Old people, middle-aged, teenagers, children... even a few infants floated gently on the surface of the water. Ranma stared at them all in amazement. And yet, he noticed that only a few were looking around at the others, like he was. Most seemed completely unaware that they were not alone in the vast river, just like he had been moments before, even as they were being pulled along by the same swift current that he was caught in.
As he watched, feeling the current drag him down river, several more people broke through the surface of the water, looking a bit dazed, and perhaps even a bit frightened as they looked around at their new surroundings... and yet their eyes passed blindly over their fellow deceased.
"You don't see it all at once," he heard the woman say, far off to his side. She had stood, and was following him as the river swept him along. "It's too much to take in. And then, you see only if you're looking closely." She paused. "You're seeing a lot, I can tell by the look on your face."
Ranma could only nod.
He could see that the river downstream forked three ways.
The right fork, near the bank that he was closest to, wound off into the distance, and he could see lush fields, and forested mountains. And, as he looked closer, he thought he could see houses, their gleaming tiled rooftops peaking through endless groves of cherry trees, reflecting the sunlight, and people waiting on the banks of the river, helping others out, greeting them with smiles and hugs...
It looked... nice. Warm. Welcoming. Like family. Ranma felt his heart twist inside his chest, and he forced himself to look away. He couldn't allow himself to get distracted...
As he forced his gaze elsewhere, he noticed that other people were washed up onto the bank before they reached the forks in the river. Those, like the woman, who were to be reincarnated, he guessed.
The middle fork was hard to see. It was obscured by mists, and when Ranma tried to look at it closely, it didn't seem to be there at all, which puzzled the hell out of him. It was like an optical illusion, something he could only see when he wasn't paying attention to it directly, and it immediately aroused his suspicions. Was that where he needed to go to find Emma-o?
"Where does that middle fork go?" he asked the woman.
"Middle fork?" The woman sounded surprised.
So, she couldn't see it. That meant that it was a pretty decent bet that she didn't know where it led, either. "Never mind," he said, and he looked out across the river again, wondering if there was a way to maneuver himself to that middle fork...
But, as his gaze slowly raked past the masses of human souls caught in the river... he could suddenly hear voices. The voices floated to him across the surface of the water, snatches of solitary conversation, faint and eerie...
"...dead? I'm dead? But I was just..."
"...at last, finally, I waited so..."
"...god, oh god, I'm sorry, I didn't want..."
The faint garble of voices washed over Ranma like a wave, far colder than the river itself. So much confusion, relief, uncertainty, fear...
"...mama? Mama? Where..."
"...ooo! Nooooooooo! Help, someone, I..."
His head jerked towards the sound of that last terrified voice...
The left fork.
For a moment, he couldn't see it. It was even worse than trying to look at the middle fork. His eyes kept skipping past it, almost instinctively, because each time he almost saw it, a feeling of immense dread twisted his insides. But then, he grit his teeth, and forced himself to stare, unblinking, until it slowly came into view...
One look at it, and Ranma knew that it was where he needed to go. The water streaming into that left fork ran thick and blackish-red, like an open, clotting wound. The people caught in its current clawed futilely at the bloody water as they tried to escape its grip, their eyes wide, or clenched shut, their faces tight masks of terror. In the distance, the sky was as black as tar, and as Ranma listened carefully, he became aware of a thin, high sound that drifted from that starless void. Faint, but it chilled him to the core all the same.
That wasn't... screaming, was it?
"Like I said." The woman following him on the river bank spoke again, and her voice was grim as her gaze followed his. "You don't want to go there." She sighed. "Lucky for you, it looks like you're headed for your ancestors. I mean, life's great and all, but I personally am not too thrilled about having to live it all over again..."
But Ranma didn't tear his eyes away from the left fork. "I gotta get over there somehow." And he began to struggle against the pushing force of the river, forcing his legs to move against the water pressure.
The river, sensing his struggle, fought back. Ranma found himself suddenly in the midst of his own personal rapids. The water frothed and churned with the sudden force of several tons of water rushing around Ranma's body, pushing him towards his eternal destination whether he liked it or not. He strained with all his strength to stand, but the current was too much for him. His feet were swept out from beneath him, and for a moment, he went under. Immediately, the waters calmed, and Ranma stood again, spluttering and angry as he felt the current once again pulling him steadily downstream. "Damn it," he shouted. "Leave me alone! I'll go where I damn well want to!"
The woman was staring at him, mouth agape. "What are you doing?" she asked.
He ignored her, his eyes narrowed and calculating as he looked around. There had to be a way to escape the river's current. Any move he made in any direction other than the way the current ran made the river react violently. He looked across the river, where thousands of other human souls drifted inexorably towards their fate...
He blinked. And grinned.
The woman's eyes narrowed, but he didn't see. "What are you doing?" she asked again.
He didn't answer. Instead, he took a deep breath and ducked under the surface of the water, curling himself into a crouch. He opened his eyes in the clear water, waiting , letting the current drag him along the bottom of the river bed...
...and then, he jumped.
The woman stared as Ranma burst from the river like a trained dolphin. He flipped at the top of his arc, and landed, feet first, on the top of a man's head.
The startled man, who was apparently on his way to meet his ancestors according to the direction his current was pushing him, didn't even have a chance to react, for Ranma had already leapt to the next head, and the next...
The river did nothing, could apparently do nothing, Ranma noticed, as he gleefully head-hopped his way across the river. "'Scuse me! Comin' through! Whoops, sorry ma'am, you looked like a guy from the back."
The woman in the red kimono yelled after him. "Wait! Where do you think you're going?"
"Where does it look like?" he called back. "I'm going to Hell!"
The woman stared after him, wide-eyed. Indeed, he was making great progress across the river, jumping from the head of one astonished dead person to the next, until finally he reached the black-red waters that bled into the left fork. At that point, though, the people caught in the river's current were not docilely allowing themselves to be swept along. They were struggling frantically to get away, and the river was fighting back, often dragging them under the thick, slimy waters until their struggles ceased.
Ranma stepped on one river-slick head, and slipped.
*splash*
He went under. The river had him again... and it was furious. There would be no reprieve or escape for him this time, and the woman saw a brief flicker of panic cross Ranma's face as the raging red waters dragged him under...
The woman held her breath, her eyes scanning the far bank's violently turbulent waters. The moments ticked by with terrible slowness.
Finally, Ranma resurfaced at the mouth of the left fork. He looked bedraggled and afraid as he looked around, bloody water streaming from his hair and down his face... but then he saw where he was. The river had apparently decided to grant his wish after his display of utter disrespect for its laws. He was on his way to Hell.
And he was grinning in triumph.
The woman slowly passed a hand over her eyes. "Ranma," she groaned. "You idiot."
------------------------------------------------ Hearts of Ice Part 24: Phoenix by Krista Perry ------------------------------------------------
Ukyo glared sullenly at Cologne as the old, wounded Amazon threw another log onto the campfire, sending glowing red embers floating up into the night sky. The glare went unnoticed. Cologne didn't even glance in her direction as she settled down next to the fire once more, smoothing the pale lavender fur of the unconscious cat nestled in the crook of her good arm with one withered, blood-stained hand.
The revived blaze roared, crackling and hissing, breaking into the deep, smothering silence that had settled over the clearing ever since Ryoga's heart-wrenching sobs had finally subsided a short while ago.
At the thought of him, Ukyo looked up, her eyes drawn unwillingly to where a black piglet and a white duck dangled, trussed up with nylon tent cord, from the branches of the same tree to which she herself was tied. Mousse was silent and despondent as usual. And Ryoga... Though his weeping had ceased, the piglet still shook with the occasional shuddering tremor. His eyes were heavy-lidded with despair as he stared at the ground, unseeing. Ukyo quickly looked away, a sharp pang of sympathy banishing whatever remaining traces of anger she had felt towards him for hiding his curse.
She couldn't blame him, really, now that, with her memories of Akane restored, she understood the truth.
She had felt guiltily relieved when the tiny piglet's weeping had ceased, almost grateful of the unnerving silence that came after. Ryoga's all-too-audible grief at rediscovering his memories of Akane had resonated within her, though she had shed no tears.
She was too tired to cry. Too tired, and too uncomfortable, with a foul rag stuffed in her mouth, her legs bound, and her arms tied behind her to the rough bark of a tree.
With a muffled sigh, Ukyo shifted her attention away from the fire and looked down at her legs, wriggling as much as her bonds would allow her, trying to restore some feeling into her numb rear-end... then sighed at the futility of it. She had lost track of how long she had been sitting there, tied up helplessly, waiting. Hours, it seemed, though she couldn't be sure, because time seemed to be crawling by with agonizing slowness. And she spent each dragging moment with nothing to do except feel her own discomfort, stare into the campfire, and wonder why the hell it was taking Ranma so long to come down from that stupid mountain and rescue her.
But then, of course, she knew. Akane was back, after all. And Akane loved Ranma, and he loved her, and everyone and their bloody dog knew it now, and it really didn't take a genius to figure out what two newly-reunited lovers, blissfully unaware of their friends' plight below, would spend the rest of the night doing. Ukyo had been counting on their mutual shyness, though, to at least get the two of them down the mountain in a more timely manner before things got too hot and heavy. She had pegged Akane for sure as being one to wait until after the wedding. It figured that they would both choose such an inopportune time to throw away their prudishness.
She hoped that, when Ranma and Akane finally managed to drag their love-sick selves back to the campsite and discovered what had happened in their absence, they felt good and guilty for taking their sweet time.
It was a terrible, unworthy thought, she knew. But dammit, she was tired and miserable, and if she chose to indulge in a bit of self-pity, it was well-earned. She had lost, after all, though now it was painfully clear that she'd never had much chance of winning the big fiancee competition in the first place. She had come out here to selflessly support Ranma on his quest to find true love, when she was standing right there the whole time. And now he and Akane were busy getting it on, while the only intimacy she shared at the moment was with the gnarly tree at her back that was chafing her arms, all while a crazy Amazon held her hostage. *Terribly sorry if my charity is running a wee bit thin,* she thought glumly.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cologne tense suddenly, straightening in her seat by the fire. Ukyo looked up to see that the old ghoul was no longer staring into the flames... but at the far side of the clearing, where a small whirlwind was forming in the dust.
Ukyo blinked. *What now?* she wondered, a small knot of fear forming in her stomach. There was nothing natural about that whirlwind, appearing out of the stillness that surrounded the mountain. Her heart began pounding; she could feel it thudding in her throat as the silence was suddenly pierced by the wailing of the wind as the strange dust devil grew in strength with swift, wild fury.
Above her, hanging from the trees, she could hear Ryoga and Mousse stir in their bonds. Ryoga gave a small squeal of apprehension as the whirlwind expanded in height and width. Finally, she could distinguish a dark shape forming in the midst of the small cyclone. A dark, human shape, carrying another human shape in its arms.
And Cologne, she noticed, watched the figures within the whirlwind with tense expectation, unmoving from her spot by the fire. Which is when it dawned on her.
Ranma was back.
It had to be him. Finally. And Ukyo found herself suddenly torn between relief that she was finally going to be freed... and dread at seeing Ranma and Akane together. From what she could distinguish through the wall of the whirlwind, he was carrying her in his arms, just like the knight cradling his newly-rescued damsel in distress. Akane probably had her arms thrown around his neck in a grateful embrace. The whole thing was so romantic, Ukyo wanted to gag.
The wail of the whirlwind reached a frenzied shriek before dissipating abruptly with a sound like a small clap of thunder, leaving the human figure standing alone in the sudden stillness. Silence descended, and the dust stirred by the vanished wind settled like a shroud around the figure.
Ukyo blinked. It wasn't Ranma.
The figure was a woman. Tall, slender, with a long, tangled mane of dark hair that fell to her waist. She was wearing ragged, bloodstained clothing, and had a sword strapped to her back.
And she was carrying Ranma in her arms.
Ranma, who was unconscious. Just unconscious, Ukyo thought numbly, just unconscious, even though she could see in the flickering light of the campfire that his head hung back over the woman's arm just a little too limply; that his skin was as pale and gray as ash, and his red Chinese shirt and black pants were heavy and wet with blood, lots and lots of blood that streaked his bare feet and stained his hands, and he was still, so unnaturally still that not even his chest was moving, he wasn't breathing...
...he's not breathing, oh gods he's not breathing, and he's bled white, but that can't be, it's impossible, because he was fine, just fine a moment ago in my mind, and I was angry at him for being so fine and happy with Akane, and look at him he's not fine at all he's dead oh gods he's dead, my Ranchan...
A strange, dull tightness filled Ukyo's head as she stared and stared.
The woman was holding him, seeming almost unconcerned that she was carrying a corpse in her arms, and she looked at all of them with dark eyes that seemed terribly old, though her face was young.
"Excuse me," the woman said in a calm voice as her gaze came to rest on Cologne. "What the hell is going on here?"
And it was only then, as she heard the familiar voice, that Ukyo realized the woman was Akane.
No. This couldn't be. It was wrong, all wrong. Nothing made sense. Not Ranma's corpse, not the strange, beautiful warrior woman with old eyes that spoke with Akane's voice. It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare...
Ukyo heard a strangled, despairing cry of protest that must have come from her own throat, because Akane looked sharply in her direction, their eyes locking for one brief instant before her surprised gaze then flicked up to where Mousse and Ryoga hung from the tree branches, and then back to Cologne.
Ukyo watched as Akane's face hardened into a mask of icy rage. "Cologne," she said, and her low voice was like chilled steel.
And Ukyo suddenly wondered, through the haze of shock and grief that had numbed her beyond all feeling, if perhaps they were going to be rescued after all.
~*~
Akane did not want to relinquish her possessive grip on Ranma's cooling, stiffening body, but with this unexpected situation she knew she needed to take advantage of Cologne's surprise to ready herself for battle. Without lowering her guard, she knelt and gently placed Ranma's body on the hard ground of the clearing, trying in vain not to notice the cold slackness of his gray, bloodstained skin as she brushed her fingers briefly across his cheek.
*Not dead,* she told herself. The thought kept her grief at bay. *Not dead, just... gone for a while. He'll come back. He promised.*
She could feel Cologne's eyes on her, as if searching for a weakness. But she would make sure there would be none to find. When she rose again to her feet a moment later, and faced Cologne, her expression was carefully blank as she returned the Amazon's gaze, instinctively assessing her adversary with a detached swiftness that came from long experience.
Cologne was bleeding. In pain, and favoring her wounded shoulder, though hiding it well. Both the clearing and her robes were splattered with blood -- more than it looked like the old Amazon could afford to lose, but with her tightly controlled ki swathing her small body like a shield, she could probably fight, massive blood loss or no.
And Akane hoped all the blood was Cologne's. Because Nabiki and Kuno were nowhere in sight. Anger and fear filled her, at the thought that her sister might be hurt, or worse. At least the others seemed mostly unharmed...
...including P-chan, who, Akane had realized the moment she saw him hanging in the tree, was Ryoga.
She was surprised at how sudden and easily that particular realization clicked in her brain. Maybe it was the bandana. Or maybe it was the fact that she knew, having viewed the expedition often through Yuki-onna's mirror before they reached the mountain, that Ryoga had come to China with Ranma, while P-chan had most certainly not. Or perhaps she already knew on some subconscious level, and only now, after everything that had happened to her in the past five years, could she accept it without anger or hard feelings.
Whatever the reason, she knew. And she didn't care, because at the moment, as she glowered furiously at Cologne while standing next to Ranma's corpse, and with Nabiki nowhere in sight of the bloodstained clearing, Ryoga being P-chan was the smallest complication in her life.
"Akane," the old Amazon responded flatly, though her eyes were fixed on the body lying on the ground next to her. "So. After all this... and he is dead."
"Yes," Akane said, amazed at how calm her voice was, because she could feel cold fire burning behind her eyes. "I hope you're satisfied."
Cologne looked at Akane then, and chuckled bitterly. "I am not. His death defeats everything for which I have struggled, and sacrificed."
Akane snorted softly, galled at the old woman's audacity. "Oh please. Sacrifice? What do *you* know of sacrifice?"
"More than you credit me for," Cologne said, and for a moment, Akane thought she saw some real regret flicker across the aged face. "I have sacrificed much. Trust. Love..." Stroking the pale fur of the unconscious cat in her arms, her gaze once again drifted back to Ranma. "Friendship."
Akane shook her head sharply. "No," she said, fighting back the hot anger that was welling up in her belly. "You *chose* to throw all that away. And it's only a sacrifice if you value what you give up."
Cologne's eyes hardened. "Do not presume to tell me what I do and do not value, child," she said. Her flickering scarlet ki brightened around her. "I only did what I had to do."
"That's crap," Akane snapped. "You didn't *have* to do any of it. You didn't *have* to cast the blood spell. You could have just left us alone."
"Honor demanded otherwise."
"Honor?" Akane laughed, short and without humor. "You have a strange concept of honor. Your high and mighty Amazon tradition somehow supercedes basic human decency, is that it? Is that your excuse? The justification for all the suffering you've caused?"
Cologne frowned. "I do not need to justify myself to anyone. Least of all a stripling like yourself."
"How convenient for you." Akane clenched her teeth, fighting the pricking ache behind her eyes. She could feel her temper slipping through her careful control, and she struggled inwardly to find her center of calm, knowing that she could not afford to be impulsive with Cologne as her opponent if it should come to a battle -- especially since Cologne was a master of the Soul of Ice technique. The last thing she needed was to be giving off hot, angry ki that could be used against her in a Hiryu Shoten Ha attack. But she could not purge her fear and anger until she knew...
"Where is my sister?" Her throat nearly closed off on the question, for fear of the answer. The irate expression that crossed the Amazon's face did nothing to ease her fears, for it was apparent that she knew the answer. "If you've hurt her in any way--"
"Your sister," Cologne said sharply, "is just fine. That Kuno boy carried her off into the forest when I arrived."
Understanding suddenly dawned on Akane's face, even as she was nearly overwhelmed with relief that Nabiki was safe. "But not before she shot you."
She had seen her sister through Yuki-onna's mirror. She had seen the gun, before Ranma had started his journey up the mountain; before Yuki-onna had pled with her not to watch him through the mirror anymore, for the sake of her own sanity. It had surprised her that Nabiki would own an illegal weapon, but she hadn't made the connection between that, and the Amazon's wound, until that moment. "I know my sister, Cologne," she said. "She might be a bit mercenary, but she wouldn't hurt anyone unless she felt she had good reason. What did you do, to make her shoot you? Or is that something else you don't need to justify to a 'stripling like myself?'"
The Amazon merely stared at her in challenge. But then, it didn't take much deductive reasoning to figure out at least part why Nabiki had shot Cologne. It was obvious that some sort of battle had taken place. That it had ended with Ukyo, Ryoga and Mousse tied up and helpless, and Kuno escaping into the forest with her sister, was answer enough. No doubt all hell had broken loose when the Amazon had arrived on the scene.
"Well, then," Akane said, her voice cold as she slowly, deliberately drew her sword from the sheath on her back. She held out the blade, so that its tip pointed accusingly at the stoic Amazon. "You're so worried about your honor. What about *my* honor? My fianc is dead because of your blood spell. For the sake of my honor, and his, I should kill you."
Cologne said nothing, but her eyes were hard and bright.
"I could, you know," Akane said. "Kill you."
Cologne's piercing gaze flickered briefly over Akane's lean, battle-hardened form, and noted the tell-tale long hair that revealed a passage of time not matched in the mortal world. She appraised the sword, held with ease and confidence in Akane's hands, and the girl's tightly controlled ki. Then her gaze once again came to rest on brown eyes that spoke of having seen too much death; most of it, if the shadows she saw within their depths were any indication, inflicted by Akane's own hand.
"Perhaps you could," she said.
The admission surprised Akane.
Cologne tilted her head and said, almost conversationally, "How long were you in the Kami realm?"
"Five years," Akane said, without hesitation. She heard a muffled exclamation of shock from Ukyo's direction, and a brief, alarmed squeal from where P-chan dangled from the tree branches, but she didn't take her eyes off Cologne. The Amazon, to her annoyance, didn't seem the least bit ruffled by her big announcement. "And," she added, "I spent almost every waking moment of those five years fighting for my life against both gods and demons." It was a slight exaggeration, she knew, since she spent the first few months training with Masakazu, rather than battling the denizens of the Kami realm. But it was close enough to the truth that she felt it didn't matter.
Cologne merely nodded. "Yes, that explains it. You are obviously not the clumsy, incompetent girl you were before. But still, five years in the Kami plane can't compete with 5,000 years of Amazon history." And she thought of the small vial of mind numbing potion that still lay hidden in her sleeve.
Akane's eyes narrowed. Something dark had just flitted across Cologne's stony expression. Almost instinctively, she fell into a more aggressive stance. "Care to put that assumption to the test?"
The Amazon calmly raised an eyebrow, and Akane got the feeling she would have shrugged, were it not for the wound in her shoulder. "If you intend to kill me for Ranma's honor, whether I care to or not is irrelevant. I will, of course, not stand idly by and let you kill me without resistance. But if given a choice, I would prefer to leave in peace."
"Leave in--" Akane spluttered in disbelief. "You have got to be kidding me. After everything that's happened, you want to just walk away?"
"Shampoo's rightful husband is dead," Cologne said. "The goal I struggled for no longer exists. I have no reason to stay. And I have been too long from my duties at home as it is. I desire nothing more at this moment than to return home to my village without incident."
Akane stared, dumbfounded.
Cologne wanted to leave. Just walk away. Without a fight. Incredible.
"Why should I let you?" she asked.
"Because you might be able to kill me," said Cologne, "but I don't think you want to."
Akane laughed shortly, a sound utterly devoid of humor. "Don't be so sure."
"If you really wanted to kill me to avenge Ranma's death, you wouldn't be wasting time talking to me."
And Akane, to her own disquiet, found that she was right. After all, if Cologne didn't want to fight, she couldn't just kill her in cold blood. And though her hands had been often stained by the sickly green and black of demon blood, she had never killed a fellow human being. That Cologne had been able to sense that hesitation in her was disturbing.
But... perhaps letting her go wasn't such a bad idea. If Cologne left now -- if she returned to her village with news of Ranma's death -- then she would not be around to discover that Ranma might not be as dead as she thought.
But if... *when* Ranma came back, there was the possibility that Cologne *would* find out, even in her isolated village. If so, would she once again stake her claim? Akane frowned slightly. She couldn't very well ask to find out and raise suspicions. *Oh, by the way, Cologne, if by some chance Ranma came back to life, would you come after him again?* No, that definitely wasn't an option.
So there were her choices. She could fight Cologne, most likely to the death. No, it would *have* to be to the death. For if she defeated Cologne, she would undoubtedly receive the kiss of death, and she knew that Cologne would not share Shampoo's reluctance to fulfill that aspect of Amazon honor. To defeat Cologne without killing her would only ensure that the Amazon would continue to plague her. If she killed Cologne, however, then she would never have to worry again about the Amazon seeking her out for revenge.
But... could she live with herself afterward, knowing that Cologne had been willing to walk away?
If she let Cologne leave peacefully, yes, there was a chance she might find out about Ranma's possible revival. But there was a greater chance that she *wouldn't* find out, and that they would never hear from her again.
"All right," Akane said at last. "Maybe I don't want to kill you. But that doesn't mean that I can't, or won't, if necessary."
"It is not necessary," Cologne replied. And though the words were a concession, her tone did not relinquish its pride. Her tone said that she did not want to fight, not because she did not believe she would win, but because it would gain her nothing.
Akane lowered her sword. "Then leave."
~*~
Ryoga couldn't believe what was happening. He knew on some level that he was in shock, because he felt entirely too calm about the events unfolding before his eyes.
Ranma... dead. Lying on the ground, a lifeless, empty shell, covered in too much blood. His rival. His best friend. Dead.
And Akane. Akane, more terrible and beautiful and cold than he had ever seen her, with her long hair, dark eyes, and pale skin. Akane, calmly telling Cologne that she had been in the Kami plane for five years. Five years! Telling Cologne that she had fought demons and gods. That she could kill her if she wanted. And Cologne, acknowledging the truth in that... and then leaving without a fight.
He was sure he would wake up any moment now. Any moment now. Right.
He watched as Cologne turned away from Akane, then picked up her long, gnarled staff from where it lay near the fire with her good hand, while cradling Shampoo with her wounded arm. The Amazon then looked directly at him for one brief moment, before looking over to where Mousse hung next to him in the tree branches.
Mousse squawked as Cologne pinned him with her gaze, and Ryoga looked over to see the duck suddenly wide-eyed with apprehension as he watched Cologne approach.
"What are you doing?" said Akane, and Ryoga glanced at her quickly, afraid to take his eyes off the approaching Amazon for more than a moment. Akane looked upset.
"Only taking what is mine," responded Cologne, and Ryoga flinched as she lashed out with the pointed tip of her staff. He felt the sharp breeze of its passage whisper against his face as the tip neatly severed the rope above Mousse so that he plummeted like a stone. The duck squawked in fear, even as Cologne dropped her staff and reached out to catch him by the ropes that bound his wings to his sides.
Mousse immediately began struggling as if his life depended on it, wriggling in his bonds and hissing and biting at Cologne's hands and arms, until she shook him violently. "Silence! You *will* be still," she commanded. "You are in enough trouble as it is, boy. Do not compound your sin by attacking your elder."
Mousse fell silent, but he looked over at Akane. The pleading and desperation Ryoga could see in his black bird eyes was so human, it hurt to look at it. "Excuse me, but I don't think he wants to go with you," Akane said. Her voice was polite, Ryoga noticed, but her sword was once again raised in an aggressive stance.
"That is none of your concern," Cologne replied.
"Yes it is." Akane's voice was calm and cold. "Mousse is my friend. I'm not going to let you take him if he doesn't want to go."
Ryoga blinked in surprise. So did Mousse.
Cologne scowled. "He is not your friend. You've never had any dealings with him unless it involved his rivalry with Ranma in some way, and even then it was only superficially."
Akane shrugged. "So? He came here to help Ranma rescue me from the Kami realm. He was Ranma's friend. That makes him my friend."
"He only came here to follow Shampoo, as usual." Cologne's voice was getting dangerous. "Not because he was Ranma's friend."
"He came for both reasons," Akane said, as if she knew this without a doubt. "And speaking of Shampoo, don't you think it's rather odd that she's slept through this whole thing? Or is her unconscious state your doing as well?"
Ryoga felt his eyes widening as he looked at Akane. Was she trying to make Cologne angry? A soft, worried bwee escaped him as he thought, Please, Akane. Don't make Cologne mad. She'll kill you. Please, Akane, please... Just let them go. Shampoo and Mousse can take care of themselves, please, just let them go...
When Cologne didn't answer, Akane said, "It seems to me that you're afraid Shampoo wouldn't approve of these proceedings. And if that's the case, I'm afraid I can't let you take her either, because she is also my friend."
Ryoga flinched as the crackle of Cologne's battle aura charged the clearing like lightning. "You are trying to vex me, child," the Amazon said. "Surely you have realized that Shampoo is as much responsible for the blood spell as I am, if not more so. It was *her* choice to cast it, and not mine. So do not pretend friendship with her, simply to presume to keep me from what is rightfully mine."
Akane's expression darkened. "Shampoo and Mousse are people, not property. And besides, I already know Shampoo cast the blood spell. But I also know that she felt bad about it afterwards, and tried to make up for it by helping Ranma save me."
Cologne's eyes narrowed. "And how is it that you know all this?"
Ryoga was surprised to see an almost Ranma-like smirk flit across Akane's expression. "Wouldn't you like to know." Then she sobered again. "People make mistakes, Cologne. Shampoo had the courage to admit that she was wrong, and try to do something to fix her mistake. You, on the other hand, hid behind your Amazon tradition like a coward to justify your actions, and that is what you are still doing."
*Akane, what are you doing?* thought Ryoga, feeling panic rise in him as he saw the fury build in Cologne's countenance. He wondered if it was possible that Ranma's death had pushed her over the edge. *Please, stop, she's going to kill you!*
"Now you can go back to your village and stay there forever, as far as I'm concerned," Akane continued. "But you're going to have to go without Mousse and Shampoo."
"I see," said Cologne. "So, you wouldn't attack me to avenge Ranma's death, but you are willing to fight me to keep Shampoo and Mousse from returning to their home?"
Akane nodded. "Yes, that pretty much sums it up."
"So you care more about them than you do Ranma."
"Of course not," Akane said. "But fighting solely for vengeance is petty and futile. I'm used to fighting immediate dangers that threaten myself and my friends. Mousse seems to be in a bit of trouble with you, and I have no doubt that you have some weird, torturous and humiliating Amazon punishment in store for him once you get back to your village. Am I right?"
Cologne said nothing, but the entire clearing glowed scarlet from her battle aura.
Akane took the silence for the affirmative answer it was. "Well then, I'm afraid I can't allow you to do that to him, because as I said, he is my friend, and he hasn't done anything wrong. Other than defy your stupid Amazon law, that is."
The stunned silence in the clearing was only broken by the sound of Ryoga's quiet, despairing bwee.
"Very well, Akane," the old Amazon said in a deadly quiet voice, as she lowered the unconscious cat and the squirming duck to the ground. "If it is a battle you want, you have it."
Oh crap, thought Ryoga as Cologne disappeared in a blur of speed, and as he looked frantically at Akane, squealing a warning, he thought he saw a strange, small smile on her face...
~*~
Somewhere, deep inside her heart, Akane's return to the mortal realm had sparked all of her old insecurities. She remembered how slow and clumsy she had been in comparison to Ranma and the other martial artists her age. And as for Happosai and Cologne... well, she never in a million years thought she might become a martial artist of their caliber.
She feared that Cologne was right. A mere five years of training in the Kami realm could not hope to stand up to 5,000 years of Amazon history, and the centuries of experience that the old woman personally possessed.
But now, as Akane stood once again in the mortal realm, her battle senses extended...
... she could feel Ukyo and Ryoga behind her; could tell without looking that their bodies, human and piglet, had gone into mild states of shock. She could sense the forest around her, could discern the faint stirring of life in each and every single root, branch and tree leaf lying still in the stagnant air.
And, approaching from not far off... the old familiar presence of... her sister.
Nabiki was coming. She was safe. She was with Kuno. And...
Akane felt a spark of surprise.
Yuki-onna?
She felt all this within a fraction of a second. And as Cologne came at her in the silence... she could hear the old woman's threading heartbeat. She could sense the exact amount of power within Cologne's ki. She could see the attack coming -- a feint to the left. Akane pretended to fall into the trap, and began to move as if to dodge. As expected, the sharp point of Cologne's gnarled staff changed course, aimed for her heart in a vicious instant death strike.
But the Amazon was slow. So slow. Cologne moved through the air as if it had the consistency of tar.
And Akane suddenly understood, for the first time, how much the Kami realm had changed her.
She moved, and she felt like liquid; like water flowing. The edge of her sword flashed in the firelight.
Cologne moved to block. Her small, strong hands moved faster than sound.
And Akane watched, feeling almost detached, as Cologne leaped back in surprise, landing lightly on her feet on the other side of the clearing. The Amazon's eyes were wide, her breathing strained. Small beads of persperation stood out on her brow as she stared at the wooden staff in her hand.
A moment passed, and the staff fell to the ground in nine segmented pieces, leaving Cologne holding a stump that extended less than a centimeter from her hand.
The old woman blinked, and by the time her eyes opened again, Akane was there with the edge of her blade resting lightly against her neck.
The Amazon matriarch looked up, her expression a mingling of shock and fear, and Akane smiled grimly. She said nothing. Her expression spoke for her.
Cologne's countenance hardened. "Well, what are you waiting for, foolish child? Kill me."
Akane raised an eyebrow. "Why? Are you planning on giving me the Kiss of Death because I have defeated you?"
"You know the answer to that." Cologne's eyes gleamed like shards of obsidian. "Unlike Shampoo, I refuse to dishonor the traditions of my sacred ancestors."
"Do you honestly think," said Akane, as she gently drew the edge of her blade along the Amazon's neck, barely parting the withered skin without drawing blood, "that you could get close enough to me to deliver your traditional kiss?"
Cologne glowered, anger burning fiercely in her countenance.
Akane let her sword hand fall to her side. "You are defeated, Cologne. Leave now, on your own, or I will force you to leave."
But Cologne didn't move... except to dip one hand into the heavy folds of her robe.
Akane almost sighed. What was the old crone thinking this time? Was she going for some sort of hidden weapon? After this last display, didn't Cologne comprehend that it didn't matter *what* she tried to throw at her, she would *see* it?
It was a small vial. And, with a snap of her wrist, Cologne flung the liquid contents at Akane's face.
Instinctively, Akane blocked with the flat of her blade. The clear liquid, which smelled musky and faintly sulphurous, splashed against her sword. Droplets flew everywhere. As she flinched, she caught a glimpse of a satisfied smile spreading across Cologne's face; and, cursing herself for her overconfidence, Akane realized that a few flying droplets were going to strike her cheek. She reached up to block with her free hand, thinking that if it were some sort of acid, she could afford a few scars on her palm...
But Cologne was grinning. And as Akane felt the droplets touch the bare skin of her blocking hand, she suddenly wondered if maybe she had lost after all...
The droplets were cold, and unexpectedly hard, like small pebbles, striking her palm with stinging force. Akane blinked as the frozen liquid fell around her like hail stones, falling and shattering against the hard ground.
And Cologne's smile wilted, surprise flickering across her face as she looked beyond Akane, across the clearing. Akane turned, looking over her shoulder, but already sensing; knowing what she would see.
Yuki-onna stood at the edge of the clearing, one white hand stretched palm outward towards her. Beside the Snow Woman stood Nabiki and Kuno, staring at her with nearly identical looks of astonishment.
"Step back, Akane-chan," Yuki-onna said. A strange expression of both relief and sadness seemed to be warring on her pale, smooth face. "You do not want to be touching that when it thaws."
Quickly, Akane stepped away from the glittering frozen fragments. "What is it?" she asked.
"It was a trap."
To Akane's surprise, it was Cologne who answered. Looking at her, she blinked. The Amazon's battle ki had faded to almost nothing, and her wounded shoulder was bleeding afresh, reopened from her exhertions.
"A trap that almost snared you -- that *would* have snared you, were it not for the Snow Woman's intervention." The Amazon favored her with a weary, half-lidded glare. "You are not as invulnerable as you think, child."
"Thanks for the reminder," Akane replied, and she meant it. She was amazed that her voice remained steady, and wondered if Cologne could see past her calm veneer, and could tell how badly she was shaken; how much she was kicking herself for her unforgivable slip.
Cologne returned her gaze expressionlessly, even as she reached up with a trembling hand to clutch at her bleeding shoulder. "Well, Akane, you have beaten me. I will not make excuses. But I can't help but think that, were I not wounded; were I at my full strength... you would have found me more of a challenge."
"I've no doubt of that," Akane answered softly, yet her eyes narrowed. It was all too possible that the Amazon's defeated posture was an act.
But her obvious suspicion did not seem to perturb Cologne. She looked at Akane calmly. "You have defeated me," she said again, as if still unable to believe it. Then a bitter, wry smile curled her wrinkled lips. "And I must give you the Kiss of Death."
Akane held her sword ready. "I told you, I won't let you."
Unsurprised, Cologne closed her eyes. "Of course. I could not expect you, of all people, to understand the honor behind such a gesture. To be acknowledged the winner over an Amazon warrior; and to simultaneously gain a worthy rival that will fight you to the death." And she sighed. "You, Akane, who set aside the sacred traditions of my ancestors as naught. You, who have managed to rob me of all things which are mine by right. Of course you would not understand this."
Akane stood ready, her lips pursed into a tense frown, and did not reply. It was useless to argue, she knew, against the Amazon's twisted reasoning. And she would not be taken off guard again.
When Cologne opened her eyes, her gaze burned, but not with malice. "I will not forget this, Akane Tendo."
Akane blinked.
Cologne glanced at where Shampoo lay on the ground, still unconscious, and in cat form.
Immediately, Akane stepped forward. "Don't touch her," she said.
"I have no intention of doing so," Cologne replied, without looking away. Her face was once again expressionless as she turned, this time to Mousse, who was awake and lying bound not far from Shampoo. Nearsighted as he was, the duck could still apparently feel the weight of the Amazon matriarch's gaze, and he swallowed.
"Tell her," Cologne said to him, "that the spirits of the ancestors do not recognize her."
Mousse's eyes widened.
"Tell her... that she is dead to me." Cologne turned away, then. Away from all of them.
Akane watched, half amazed, half resigned. The old Amazon, hunched over her wounded shoulder, hobbled slowly to the edge of the clearing, where she paused.
"And tell her," she said, without looking back, "that I am dead to her."
With that, in a brief blur of movement, she disappeared into the shadows of the forest and was gone.
Well, of course this is: To be continued.