DISCLAIMER: Ranma Nibunnoichi is the property of Takahashi Rumiko,
Shogakukan Inc, Shonen Sunday Comics, and Viz Video. It is used without
their permission and is not intended for profit but only for the
enjoyment of fans of the Ranma series. All characters within this fic
that are not the property of the above mentioned are copyrighted to the
author, Joseph Kohle, January 1997. This work of fiction is the result
of the author's hard work and is for the enjoyment of others. Please do
not change, modify, or use any segment of this story without the
author's knowing and written consent. Feel free to archive this work.

************************************************************************ 

                       Meiyo Ai soshite Nikushimi

                       A Ranma Nibunnoichi Fanfic
                            by Joseph Kohle
       		       
                       Part III: The Golden Apple
                      Chapter III: To Whom It Goes


                      ***************************

     Settling against the steps leading to Furinkan, Nabiki began
rummaging through her bookbag. Pushing aside books, papers, and
bundles of photographs, she finally found her lunch and extracted
it from the bag. Opening the bento box, she snagged a pork bun
and began to nibble on it. She was not really hungry, but she
liked to keep her hands occupied while she was thinking. 
     It was a habit she had picked up as a child. As a little
girl, she had worn her hair long, and would nibble on it when she
was lost in thought or worried. Her mother had gotten tired of
telling her to stop doing it and took the expedient solution,
cut her hair short. Nabiki had stopped nibbling quickly, but
instead turned to twirling pencils or tapping her fingers when
she was troubled. 
     It was something she couldn't control, and so she hid it
by keeping her hands occupied in mundane tasks, like writing
or doodling on paper while she thought. The pork bun was just
another distraction. She did not want people to see she was
worried. 
     Throughout the morning she had wracked her brain, trying
to find a way to help her sister. In her mind, the simplest
solution was to make it so Cologne had more interest in
avoiding something else than getting Ranma. The only possible
something else was Shampoo. Nabiki doubted the Nekohanten was
of much importance to the old ghoul, and she would have bet
money that the Nekohanten ranked above Mousse. That left her
Shampoo and a whole new set of dilemmas.
     Finding a way to threaten Shampoo was not hard; it was
finding an acceptable way that was stumping Nabiki. She
refused to have anything to do with kidnaping, torture, or
killing, whether directly or through a paid thug or four.
Although she loved her sister, she knew that there were lines
she would never cross. Extortion was one thing, but murder and
kidnaping could land her in jail or even get her the death
penalty. It was not a risk she was willing to take. But what
did that leave her? Not very much, and that was after several
hours of plotting.
     "That looks good. Do you have some for me?"
     Startled, Nabiki snapped her head up to see Ranma
standing in front of her, a lopsided grin sprawled across his
face. Later she would berate herself for allowing Ranma to
shock her like that, but at the moment she was unable to
connect anything in her mind. After a few moments, though, her
agile mind took over again and she snapped at him. "What're you
doing here? Baka! If Cologne or Shampoo sees you, you're as good
as married. Get out of here. Go back to Ukyou's place."
     "Glad to see you too," Ranma muttered and sat down in
front of her. As he sat down, he acquired her bento box. Snag- 
ging a pork bun, he popped it into his mouth before Nabiki
could react.
     "Give me that," she snapped and grabbed the box before he
could devour her lunch. 
     "C'mon, Nabiki. I'm starving!" Ranma protested.
     "Have you got any money on you?" she asked. Ranma could
just imagine her hands rubbing together in glee.
     "No," he admitted, "I'm broke. Heck, I don't even know
where my wallet is."
     "Too bad. No money, no food. Ya know, if you had stayed
at Ukyou's, you wouldn't have this problem.." Nabiki pointed
out sweetly. "Well, it's not my problem."
     "Nabiki, why do you keep telling me to go to Ucchan's?"
Ranma asked. "I've been here almost a minute, and you've
already suggested it twice."
     "If you can't figure that out, Ranma, then it's useless
for me to tell you," Nabiki explained.
     "What? Do you think I'll be safer at Ukyou's?"
     "Ranma, do you have any idea what is going on?" Nabiki
asked, boring her eyes into his.
     Squirming, Ranma returned her penetrating gaze. He hated
when she did this, and it did not make things any easier for
him. He had come to the school to find Akane, but she was not
in the schoolyard, so he had naturally gone searching for
Nabiki. All he wanted was to find out where Akane was, and now
it was apparent that Nabiki fully intended to skin him alive
and grill him over a very hot fire. After a moment, he decided
he was not going to take Nabiki's abuse. Enough people were
abusing him at the moment, and he did not need one more. 
     "More of an idea than you, I bet," Ranma snapped indig-
nantly. "Listen, I don't need any of this crap. I've got my own
problems, and I don't need you piling more on top. So just
leave me alone, Nabiki."
     "Oh, I forgot that the great Saotome Ranma doesn't need
help," Nabiki stated with a dismissive wave of her hand. She
didn't understand why he was being so caustic. Sure he had
gone through a lot, but he might at least listen to her and
take her advice at face value. How often did she offer free
advice like this? Rarely enough to make it apparent that he
should pay heed to her. But even if he didn't want her help,
she was not about to let Ranma gallop off like a brainless knight
and end up running roughshod over her plans and Akane's heart.
"Go on, get out of here. Why should you care if you're going to
hurt Akane? Run off to Shampoo. I bet that this is what you were
waiting for."
     Nabiki watched with satisfaction as her words hit Ranma like
a wrecking ball. He visibly winced when she mentioned Akane's
name, and then again at her implication about him and Shampoo.
Manipulating Ranma was easy for Nabiki. He had only a few weak
spots, but if she touched them right, she was always assured of
her desired results. His shoulders slump in defeat, and she
waited patiently for him to ask for her assistance. She knew he
would, sooner or later. He had to. There was no other path open
to him. 
     To her surprise, Ranma slowly climbed to his feet, and
glanced down at her. He looked wretched standing in front of
her. From his hang-dog expression and the pain in his eyes, she
could tell he was suffering. She knew he was dragging himself
through Hell, trying to figure out how to do what was the right
thing to do for himself and his family, and failing. "I don't
want to hurt her. I never did. But I don't know what to do. Just
tell me where she is, and I'll leave you alone." The request was
asked in a tired voice. It was a voice Nabiki had never heard
escape Ranma's mouth.
     Anyone else would have felt pity for the tormented figure
Ranma had become. Nabiki, however, was not moved by Ranma's
attitude, nor was she interested in his feelings. Sure, she liked
the boy, but in this he had a purpose. Through him, she was going
to ruin Cologne's plans and at the same time, as an added bene-
fit, relieve the grief of her younger sister. To do this, she
needed a tactile Ranma, not this suicidal loose cannon.
     "Ranma," she replied in an even voice, "sit down so we can
talk."
     "I'm not interested in talking, Nabiki. At least not to you.
I wanna talk to Akane. Now just tell me where she is," Ranma
demanded, the fire returning to his voice and eyes.
     "You don't have any money, you have nothing to trade, so if
you want to know where Akane is, sit down." There was no leeway
in Nabiki's voice as she delivered her ultimatum. A hostile light
entered Ranma's face, and Nabiki saw his fist clench. Just when
she thought he would stalk off, his left hand came to rest on a
small pouch hanging from his belt. As his hand touched the pouch,
Ranma closed his eyes and sighed in defeat. Slowly, he lowered
himself to the ground.
     "I'm seated," he stated. "Now tell me where Akane is, or
I'll just wander around Nerima until I find her."
     "Ranma, Ranma," Nabiki gently chastised, "you should know
that sitting down is hardly payment enough for information.
It's not like you're a dog, ne?" Ranma was not sure about
that. He certainly felt like a trained dog, jumping through
his master's hoops.
     "Sure, Nabiki. Not a dog. Just some guy you treat like one,"
Ranma answered in a monotone voice.
     "Be nice," Nabiki commented. "All I want is for you to do a
little thing for me."
     "What's that?"
     "Go back to Ucchan's and stay with her until my business
with Cologne is finished."
     Ranma was silent for a moment and then stood up. "I'm not a
pawn, Nabiki. Cologne is my problem, and I ain't running from
her, especially so you can make some money telling her where I'll
be. Forget it, Nabiki. I'll find Akane on my own. Thanks for
nothing." He didn't say it, but Nabiki clearly heard 'you bitch'
in his voice.  
     Incensed at his words, Nabiki almost allowed Ranma to dig
himself deeper into his little hole, but then she'd lose her only
wild card. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed the
bastard. If she could not keep him with Ukyou, then she would
chain him in place with Akane. 
     "I was just trying to be helpful, Ranma." His look said he
believed her as much as Saint Peter believed Ananais. She didn't
care. Whether he believed her or not was not important to her
plans, she just wanted him where she could find him." Akane was
sick this morning and has been for a while. She stayed home, and
is probably still there. So if..." She never finished as Ranma
made toward the main gate without even a grateful "thanks".
     Slightly offended and annoyed by his attitude, Nabiki still
watched him disappear with a sense of victory. She had not culled
him, but she had maneuvered him where she could use him. Now if
only Akane would keep her wayward fiancee in control for a few
hours... She still needed time to figure everything out. She had
an idea, but it was risky. Risk was a part of life though, and
Nabiki had always taken an adeverse pleaseure from living on the
edge.
     
     The house was silent and empty. "Kasumi? Tendou-san? Oyaji?"
There was no reply to his calls, only silence. Moving from the
living room to the kitchen, he found the same emptiness. This was
the first time he had ever come back to an empty house. Usually
at least Kasumi or Soun was in the house at any given time.
Although it bothered him, he still made his way to the fridge for
a small snack. Fixing himself a sandwich, he went back into the
dining area to find Akane. 
     Akane was sick, at least according to Nabiki she was. Ranma
doubted Nabiki would've lied about her sister's condition,
especially when she had been so insistent about keeping him under
wraps. Why that was, he did not know, and considering the ques-
tion had not been important once Nabiki let slip the fact that
Akane was home sick. One thing at a time, he decided. Besides,
what could Nabiki possibly do for him? It wasn't as if she liked
him enough to go and help him out of the blue. She had to have
some monetary interest in him staying out of sight. That was the
only reason that made sense.
     Passing the low table, a sheet of paper laying on the table
drew his attention. Popping the last piece of the sandwich into
his mouth, he picked it up. 'Akane,' it read. 'I'm out getting
you some medicine. Father is shopping. I left some soup on the
stove for you in case you get hungry. Love, Kasumi.' 
     Carefully he replaced the note and called out, "Akane?" His
voice echoed throughout the house, but there was no answer. His
own need to talk with Akane lessened as concern for her began to
grow. As far as he knew, she had never fallen ill while he had
known her. Sickness was unnerving to him. It was something he had
never dealt with in his life. He could not remember a moment of
sickness. Injury yes, but not disease. Therefore he was baffled
by what he could do. People could be lost in a matter of days to
disease. There was no way to fight against it as if it were a new
type opponent.
     He wanted to do something for Akane, to protect her, but he
did not know how. If she was ill there was nothing he could do,
except wait and hope. His eyes fell on the note again, and an
idea popped into his head. There was something he could do. Maybe
it wasn't going to help in the least, but at least he would not
feel like he was helpless. Helpless was the last thing he wanted
to feel where Akane was concerned or anyone else for that matter. 
     As he decided, his own dilemma was submerged by his new pur-
pose. Turning, he returned to the kitchen intent on doing some- 
thing productive to making Akane feel better. In the back of his
mind, a small voice was just telling him he was trying to delay
the inevitable, but he was not one to listen closely to that
small voice. Smiling a bit, he went about his work.
     Several minutes later, Ranma was stepping off the flight of
stairs and silently padding down the hall to Akane's door. In his
hands he carefully balanced a tray with two steaming bowls of
soup and a tea kettle with two cups. He stopped in front of her
door and rearranged the tray before gently rapping on the wood
with his free hand. After a few moments with no answer, he pushed
the door open and stepped into the room.     
     Bright light spilled through the window, flooding the room
with a bright glow. Ignoring the painful light, Ranma's eyes
found their way to Akane's bed. In spite of the light, Akane was
asleep, curled up beneath the sheets, her face turned toward the
door presenting her slightly parted lips to him as if expecting a
kiss. For a moment, Ranma wanted to accept that invitation. There
was a mischievous delight to waking her with a kiss, but confu-
sion and doubt about where their relationship was deterred him.
     Instead he pushed aside the alarm clock and stuffed animals
on her night table and placed the tray on it. Snagging a nearby
chair with his foot, he pulled it close and seated himself next
to Akane and watched her. His worry and anxiousness to solve all
of his problems tried to cajole him into waking her, but his
concern for her was willing to wait for her to awaken.
     There was no time as he watched her, only a sense of con-
tentment. He could watch her for hours and never become bored of
her face, or tired of the way her hair shimmered in the sunlight,
framing her smooth, flawless face. From the small, upturned nose
beneath her delicate brows to the well-defined cheek bones that
swept down in a graceful arc to her neck and finally to her
exposed shoulder, he was enraptured by it all. The rosy blush
that coloured her cheeks and her soft breathing only made her
more desirable. She was beautiful, angelic in his eyes. There
could be nothing more perfect than this young woman before him.
     He wanted to caress her skin, feel the heat in her body as
he held her in his arms. If he could only taste of her lips just
once, a drug that had haunted his desires and dreams both within
the statue and without. When she was within his arms, or just by
his side, he felt as if the world was within his hands. There was
nothing he could not do, no challenge too large, if it was for
her. She completed him.
     Did she feel the same? Undeniably, there was something
between them. She had shown genuine concern for him after his
failed suicide. He wanted to believe it was because she cared
deeply for him, but he also knew that if Ukyou was dying, he
would be beside her bed, her hand in his as he spoke of how much
he needed her. Was her concern that of a dear friend or a lover?
He desperately hoped it was the latter. But how could he be sure?
     Despite what she had done before, the fact remained that she
had given him up to Shampoo. But was that because she would
rather have him be with Shampoo than die? Or because she just
didn't want his death on her conscience? They were the same
thoughts that had plagued him since he had returned to the world
of the living and did nothing to help the moment. 
     He turned his eyes back to Akane's sleeping form. He did not
believe that it was possible for him to live without her. He had
gone down that route once and never wanted to travel it again.
Death was preferable to living without her, more comforting than
dealing with the hollow pain.
     The sunlight dancing across her hair and face brought back
memories better left covered. He saw her lying silent in the
woods, the light a halo around her face. Remembering the dark
emptiness that had filled him as he saw her, he could taste the
despair that became his life at that moment. It was the same
dread sense of loss that had haunted his thoughts and dreams
during the week after. Even now he could feel a hand ripping a
part of his soul from him at just the thought. Though she slept
in front of him, a compulsion drove him to gently brush her face
with his hand to assure himself she was real.
     Akane murmured softly at his touch and reached out. As if
she were fire, he snatched his hand back from her soft skin. If
he continued, he would kiss her and then touch her. He shook his
head. Where that thought led scared him. He had never been able
to rid himself of the certainty that he had raped her. Even after
she had told him differently, the nagging doubt that he had
imposed himself on her, that it had been his own desire and not
hers that had been acted upon. To even contemplate hurting her in
such a way again repulsed him.
     Fearfully, he watched Akane continue to move convulsively,
waiting for her to either wake or slip back into slumber. Neither
occurred though. Instead her mumbling became louder, and she
began to struggle in her sleep. He couldn't understand what she
was saying. It was incoherent noise to him, but he knew she was
having a bad dream.
     Unconsciously, he leaned toward her. He wanted to take her
in his arms and soothe her fears like a mother comforting her
child. As his hand was about to touch her, though, a soft sob
broke her lips, "No!" Ranma jerked his hand back in surprise and
fear. "Please don't leave. No. I'm so lonely. Stay with me!"
     Akane fell silent again and began to mumble once more, her
head shaking violently. Ranma was confused and worried. What was
she dreaming of? "Ranma!" her voice called out. She reached des-
perately toward the ceiling. "Don't leave me. Please don't.." Her
voice fell silent with a soft sob as she began to toss and turn.
     There was a snapping sensation within his mind. In the next
instant he was kneeling beside her bed, grasping Akane's flailing
hand in a firm but gentle grip while his other hand stroked her
forehead. "I'm here, Akane. I'm here," he whispered. "I won't
ever leave you. Believe me." He spoke the words without thinking.
They were from his heart, unclouded by his mind's priorities and
debilitating doubts. 
     As if an angel had touched her, Akane calmed at his contact.
Rolling toward him, Ranma saw her eyes flutter as she pulled his
hand tightly against her chest. No words passed his lips as his
hand was melded to her own by the warmth of her body. The heat
from their contact seared across his nerves like a fire brand.
Unable to deal with the emotions intoxicating his blood like a
fine wine, he could do nothing except watch as she slowly woke.
     He was gazing into her face when her eyes finally opened.
Unfocused hazel orbs mesmerized him as they wandered the room,
and then latched onto him. Involuntarily, he sucked in his breath
as he saw the joy and love that flooded into his fiancee's face.
"Ranma?" Her eyes were questioning, her brow knitted in uncer-
tainty, but the love he saw blocked the answer in his throat.
     A palatable silence descended as they both attempted to
shuffle through the gamut of feelings flooding their systems.
Ranma wanted to embrace her, kiss her, protect her. His impri-
sonment had felt like an eternity to him. An eternity without her
at his side. Many were the times he would have taken anything
from her, even abuse, so long as she was next to him. After all
his hardship to reach her again, he was unable to find a single
word to express what he wanted to tell her, to express what had
unknowingly made his decision for him.
     In silence he watched as the uncertainty and pain dissipate
to be replaced by a mixture of hope and fear. Releasing his hand,
she reached out and placed her fingers against his cheek. His
heart skipped a beat as her delicate fingers traced his skin.
Closing his eyes, he pressed his face back against her hand,
reveling in the burning sensation her light caress left on his
skin. They lit a fire across his nerves that sent his blood
boiling and his heart racing but left him floating calmly as if
he had found his wa.
     When her fingers slipped from his skin, he felt as if his
clothing had fallen from him, baring his body to the harsh ele-
ments of nature. A protesting cry rose in his throat but was
stopped as Akane found her voice.
     "It's you. I thought... I didn't... I couldn't... Oh,
gods, why'd you come back? You shouldn't have. Not with what's
going on." As his eyes snapped open at the distress in her
voice, he saw the fear flood into her face, but more than
that, he heard her words. She hadn't wanted him to return. She
didn't love him that way. 
     He spoke before he even considered the rest of her words,
his broken heart echoing in his voice. "I'm sorry, Akane. I won't
bother you again." His decision had been made. The one that felt
wrong, but he knew was right. His honour would go untarnished. He
climbed to his feet unsteadily. He could feel the grief in the
back of his heart, a black wave that would crash over him and
drag him under. Turning he took a step, and then spoke again. He
forced the words from his mouth, unable to leave things as they
were. "I'll always love you, Akane."
     Two more steps and he was reaching for the door that would
lock Akane from his life forever when he heard a sob behind him.
"Don't!" Ranma's hand was frozen by her cry, his fingers pressing
against the cold brass of the doorknob. "Please don't go. I don't
care about any of this. I don't care about the promise. We could
leave, just the two of us. Don't leave me alone, Ranma. I
couldn't stand that. Anything but that."
     She wanted him. His eyes fell to his hand. She was willing
to give up everything for him. He saw his fingers touching the
knob. She loved him. He realized how close he had come to throw-
ing everything away because he had jumped to conclusions. Just
like with his failed seppuku, he had allowed his own flaws to
carry him, to blind him to reality. What would it take for him to
end it? He did not know, but he promised to find a way. 
     Turning, he found Akane kneeling on her bed, her upturned
face streaked with tears. For an instant Ranma saw the Akane that
had wandered the halls of the Tendou household for the last few
days. It tore deeply at his heart because he understood that he
was somewhat responsible for her present condition. Frail and
sickly were the words that flittered through his head. She had
the countenance of a anorexic, her skin had lost the luster it
had gained in sleep. Pools of bleak loss replaced her eyes.
     "Don't leave me, Ranma. I don't care about honour. Can't
you just forget it?"
     Ranma once again answered without thinking. "I can't just
give up my honour, Akane." He saw her body start to shake and 
realized his mistake. "But I can't give you up," he quickly
amended. "I can live without honour. I can't live without you,
Akane."
     He sighed in relief as her posture relaxed. Relief flooded
through her body, and she sank back against the wall. Rubbing her
eyes, she brushed aside her tears, but Ranma saw new ones appear
a moment later. He went to her then, his inhibitions disappearing
freeing him like broken chains. 
     Sinking to the bed, he pulled her into his arms, and stroked
her silky hair, whispering reassuringly into her ear. "What are
we going to do, Ranma?" Akane asked after a few moments. The
query was muffled by his chest, but he still heard her.
     Ranma took a few moments to phrase his answer. He had
already made two mistakes, and only luck had fixed them for him.
He knew now was not the time for more misunderstandings. "I'm
gonna do everything I can. I don't wanna break Oyaji's word or
yours. There has to be a way. I just don't know what it is."
     "And if there isn't a way?" Akane asked, pulling her head
away from his chest. He saw the worry and fear in her eyes, the
trails of tears meandering down her cheeks. 
     Gently, he wiped away a new tear with his thumb. "That's my
problem, not yours," he smiled. "Your problem is getting better,"
he commented, suddenly remembering that she had stayed home sick.
"Do you feel okay? Do you need anything? I brought some soup and
tea." He attempted to motion toward the tray and still keep his
arms around her.
     "I'm feeling better, Ranma. I'm just tired," she replied,
stroking his broad shoulders. Her hands made him shiver as if
ice was being run across his skin. "I've just not been feeling
very well recently, but I feel like I could take on the world
right now." She pushed away from him and glanced up into his
face, her voice becoming serious. "As long as you never, ever
leave me again. Twice is enough for me."
     Ranma glanced down at her and smiled. "I promise that if
I hafta leave, I'll always come back."  
     "That's all I wanted to hear." She snuggled back against his
chest, and closed her eyes. After a few moments she wrapped her
arms around him once more and held him close. "I thought I'd lost
you, Ranma. I couldn't take that again. It's too painful. I love
you." Ranma simply held her tighter until she fell asleep, her
arms wrapped loosely about his body. 
     He soaked in the warmth of her embrace as if it were a
steaming hot bath. It was intoxicating, reassuring. As his body
relaxed, his mind began to wander. His life was changing too fast
for him to take it in stride. A month ago he would have never
even considered Akane being in his arms a possibility, and often
the fantasy of it was banished and beaten down like an unwanted
relative. 
     In a way he had accepted her as a part of his life before
his act. Even now it was still an act. It had not been making
love. It had not been sex. To him it was still rape, but he
could not bring himself to think, much less utter, the word, and
that hurt him because he knew she was not part of his life any-
more, she had become his life.
     The revelation terrified him. The thought that he was
willing to give up everything for this young woman mystified him.
Only his martial arts had ever had a hold on him like the one
Akane held. It was not just his life he was willing to give. In
his eyes, his life was a small price. It was the Way of the
Warrior. He was a martial artist in the strictest sense of the
word. His abilities were not meant for competition but survival
and battle. As such he had always known that upon waking one day
he would never see the sunrise of the next.
     The fleetingness of life, the impermanence of all things had
been a part of his life forever. Now he had found something that
he did not want to be a morning sunrise but the star filled hea-
vens. He was willing to go beyond giving his life to have the
stars shine above him for his entire life. He was casting aside
his dreams of the future, his honour, and maybe his family. It
was a high price. Was he willing to take that risk and pay it? 
     Encircled in her arms, it was easy to answer yes. But when
he was an old man and she had passed to the next world would the
same hold true? He did not know. His presentience was woefully
inadequate to catch a glimmering of that future. His mind was
grounded in the here, not the there. Here, he knew he wanted her.
So here he would do everything to keep her, even push aside his
family.
     With a decision made, he thought his heart would be lighter,
but it was not. Instead it lay within his chest like a lump of
lead. What he was going to do rattled his confidence, horrified
his senses, but it had to be done, or he hurt Akane and ruined
the one thing that brought him joy, happiness, and love.
     His eyes traveled down to her face. She had snuggled closer
to him while he had traveled the neglected paths of his mind,
resting her head against his neck and shoulder, filling his
senses with the sweet scent of her hair. Disentangling himself
from her arms, he gently laid her back on the bed. Covering her
with the blankets, he pressed his lips against her forehead.
"I'll be back soon. I've got some things to take care of." Akane
only smiled and curled around one of her stuffed pigs. Ranma left
her like that, the smile on his lips mocking the heavy but deter-
mined heart in his chest. The old hag was going to have an unex-
pected visitor, an angry one.


     "Hey, Ranma!" The saultation halted Ranma. Swiveling his
head to glance behind him, he groaned to himself as he saw Nabiki
walking toward him like a succubus. She had a smile on her lips
and a bounce in her step, but he knew in his gut that behind her
sparkling eyes her mind was whirling, devising ways to exploit
him. In his mind there was no other side to her. She had used him
so many times that he had started hiding from her like a small
forest creature at the approach of the fox. He was in the open
though, and so he bowed to his fate and allowed her to catch up
with him.
     "What are you doing here, Nabiki?" Ranma demanded as she
reached him. He did not even attempt to mask the annoyance in
his voice.
     "I could ask the same thing of you, Ranma-kun. I would've
suspected you'd still be by Akane's side, since she is sick."
She emphasized the last word. "But if you don't care for her.."
     "I was just there. She's sleeping."     
     "So what are you doing out here? Leaving Akane when she's
in trouble? That's not like you, Ranma."
     "She's sick, Nabiki. What am I s'posed to do? Challenge her
cold to a duel?" He was trying to avoid her question. He was not
interested in having his intentions spread throughout Nerima and
the surrounding wards before he had taken two steps. What he
wanted to do was just leap to a rooftop and scamper away, but he
was still uncertain about his strength and did not want to put
undue strees on his recovery.
     Nabiki latched onto his arm, and unobtrusively maneuvered
him down the crowded street. Startled, Ranma allowed himself to
be led. His mind was trying to find a plausible reason for Co-
logne to release him from the promises. He doubted there was one
and suspected it would either come down to a fight, which he
would lose, or him just walking out on her and be damned with
everything. Neither was very appealing.
     "So where are you going, Ranma? If it wasn't anywhere
special, you could always get me a free okonomiyaki from Ukyou,
and I could take a little off your debts." 
     A howl of frustration echoed in Ranma's head. If it wasn't
his own problems, Nabiki was back on his case, trying to get him
to do what she wanted. "Nabiki, I told you at school that I'm not
going back to Ucchan's. I've gotta figure this out, and it is
none of your business how I do it!" He yanked his arm from her
grasp and stomped away from her.
     Annoyed and angry at Ranma's attitude and tone, Nabiki
grabbed his arm and pulled him back so he was looking down into
her eyes. For the first time in his life, Ranma realized he was
taller than Nabiki. She manipulated and used him so much that,
like an abused child, he had accepted it meekly, feeling small
and insignificant in her shadow, but now the roles had been
reversed. For some inexplicable reason he found himself feeling
as if he were the superior and she the supplicant.  
     He took in the incensed expression on her face, the anger in
her eyes. He was phasing her, causing her trouble, and for some
reason he enjoyed it. "I told you to leave me alone." 
     "No!" Nabiki snapped. She had seen the confidence glowing in
his eyes and was frightened and thrilled by it. No one had stood
up to her for so long that she did not know how to act, but she
relished the challenge. "You're going to listen to me, Saotome
Ranma. I don't care if you don't want to. You're going to, or
else I'll make your life a living hell!" This idiot was going to
ruin everything that had been going for her, everything that
might have saved his pathetic hide. She could see that in his
eyes, the way he held himself. He was not about to be culled, but
she would definitely try to beat him into submission, if not for
her sister's sake, then because she would not be beaten.
     To her surprise, Ranma started laughing. Laughing. He was
laughing at her. She lost control as his mockery washed over her.
"What do you think is so funny, Saotome?"
     Ranma was unable to help himself as his laughter bubbled
forth. Here Nabiki was, commanding him, and she had nothing to
place her own two feet on. "H-how can you make my life more of a
hell than it already is?" he finally managed to get out as his
laughter died down. His tone quickly became more serious, though.
"Do you honestly think you can do anything worse than what Colog-
ne and my curse and my father and my fiancees and everyone else
has done to me? I doubt it, but I'm gonna go fix a few of those
things. So, if you don't mind, I've gotta go have a little chat
with Cologne." 
     The shock and surprise on Nabiki's face was worth having
exposed his plans to her. It was a face he would remember with
fondness for a long time, despite what would happen next. At that
moment he felt a moment of elation at having beat Nabiki at one
of her games. Being used enraged him, and Nabiki's successes over
the past year and a half had grated on his nerves for too long. 
     Satisfied as a gorged lion, Ranma turned from the still
dumbstruck Nabiki and began to walk away. He had traversed nearly
a dozen paces when Nabiki's cry halted him. "Ranma! Don't do
this. Don't hurt Akane like this. She doesn't deserve it." Ranma
was halted in his tracks by the words unable to move.
     Nabiki had listened to Ranma speak. His words left her
speechless. With his rude actions earlier and the trouble he had
put her through, she was slowly losing her control. But it was
more than that. There was something different about Ranma that
she could not put her finger on. It had been there at lunch and
it was in him now. She could remember Ukyou's words earlier that
day. "I couldn't," Ukyou had said in desperation. "He's changed.
He's really changed, Nabiki. I don't know what happened to him
exactly. He mentioned a few things about fighting for his soul
and he carries that statue with him constantly. It's frightening
at times."
     As she glanced at him, she saw instantly what Ukyou had
meant. Ranma was holding himself straight, a burning determina-
tion in his eyes. Gone was the vivacious innocence that had
marked him as Ranma. In its place was a deep sadness and regret
that made her want to cry. They reminded her of the eyes of a
child that had just been forced to give up his blankie. Akane. It
was the only blankie Ranma could ever lose. What he had decided
was obvious to her. He had decided to give up Akane for his oh-
so-precious honour.
     The realization incensed her. How dare he was her first
thought. She had immersed herself in helping him because she
hated seeing her sister hurt. She had shouldered the burden of
outsmarting Cologne because the Amazon had hurt her sister and
her family. Of course she had masked this by saying that she only
wanted the challenge, the thrill of facing a real opponent. She
just did not want to admit her feelings, since, once one slipped
out, like a small drip turns into a leak and then a flood, her
bottled up emotions would crash through her. But now she could
not put that mask in front of her actions. 
     Now all she could think was what Akane was going to do. How
would she take this? How could Ranma hurt Akane? She would not
let him hurt her sister. She did not care if she had to come
right out and help him, but she was not going to watch Akane
slowly slip away because of grief. The last few days had been
horrid, but months, maybe years like that? No, she would never
allow that to happen. So she called out to him, shouted at him,
forced him to stop.
     Now he was staring at her in shock, his eyes burning with
hurt and surprise, and beneath it all almost mirth. Then his face
became placating as he walked toward her. "Nabiki," he started as
he laid his strong hand on her shoulder. 
     She shook his touch off and retorted before he could com- 
plete the thought. "Don't say anything. You'll listen to me. I'm
not going to let you hurt Akane. I don't care about what you
think is right. You're going to do what I want you to do, or
else."
     "But, Nabiki..."
     Nabiki charged on ignoring him. "Do you have any idea what
you mean to my sister? You haven't seen her for the past week.
She's been a wreck, an absolute wreck." The words flowed like
water from her lips, cascading from the well-spring of her hate
and anger, her frustration. She had lost control of her emotions
for the first time in many years, and the feeling was one of
orgasmic release. "Cologne did this. She contrived everything. By
your own mouth, you admitted she was trying to kill you, yet you
must go to her and save your precious honour. How can you even
contemplate such a thing?"
     "I-"
     "Shut up! I don't care what you think. I don't care if you
think. From now on I think for you, and you do what I want. I
will not let you destroy my sister's life. And I definitely won't
allow you to do it by going to that Amazon bitch. Do you have any
clue what she has put us through? The uncertainty, the heart-
break, the agony? I hate her for what she's done to Akane and my
family. My family, Saotome. No one hurts my family and gets away
from it. If you so much as even think about agreeing with her,
about turning away from my sister, I'll..I'll..."    
     "You'll what?"
     An evil glint lit her eye as an idea entered her mind. "Tell
your mother a little secret, Ranko." 
     Ranma regarded her with a cold gaze. Unable to fathom what
had brought on this outburst, Ranma went with his gut feeling. He
distrusted her. He might like her and was even fond of her, but
trusting her was as foolhardy as eating Akane's cooking. He did
not know what her game was. Whether she was truly interested in
helping him or worried over Akane's well-being was of no concern
to him. He had decided on his course and he would finish it. Ten-
dou Nabiki played no role in the drama between him and Cologne.
     More than anything he smiled inwardly at her threat. Nor-
mally, such a threat would have been met with instant submissive-
ness on his part, but the truth was that it did not matter
anymore. By forsaking the promises and the giri of his family, he
was already putting his mother beyond him for the rest of his
life. He was giving up his family for Akane. He knew that, there
was no denying it. Still he would not let her get away with her
threat.
     "Tell her what you want, Nabiki. I don't care anymore. Just
leave me alone. I've gotta few things to do. It's none of your
damn business."
     "You're going to hurt my sister, that makes it my damn
business, Saotome!" Several people walking by cast a few glances
at Nabiki as they heard her outburst. No one stopped though. It
was not their business and would probably only lead to trouble.
     Anger flared in Ranma. Nabiki took a step back as she saw
the sudden rage in Ranma. "I'm not going to hurt your sister. So
leave me alone." He punctuated each word violently and took a
step forward on the last.
     Nabiki bolstered her courage and stood her ground. She did
not believe a word he was saying. She knew Ranma too well, and
this Ranma, no matter what he had gone through, was still one who
lived honour. Besides that, she also knew that Ranma had no
qualms about lying to her to avoid unpleasantness. "You're
lying." She flung the accusation boldly. "I know you, and I won't
let you do something stupid. I'm staying by your side until this
is over to my satisfaction. You've caused me enough grief with
your stupidity as it is."
     "You know me?" Ranma laughed. "No one knows me, Nabiki, and
I'm not gonna hurt Akane. Get over it. I don't need your help,
and that is final." Nabiki only glared at him fiercely. He wanted
to turn away, but he couldn't make himself do it. She would just
follow him and make his duty harder. 
     Nothing short of drastic would budge her. Hitting her
entered his thoughts, but he pushed it away. Even if she deserved
a good slap, Ranma could never bring himself to hit Nabiki. She
was not able to phsically defend herself. On top of this was his
aversion to physically striking women. With a sinking heart he
realized she had won. There was nothing he could do to stop her.
But if she was that determined to follow him, he would at least
correct her misguided conclusions.
     Turning he took a few steps and waited for her to realize
he wanted her to follow him. As he heard her footsteps, Ranma
continued walking, ignoring Nabiki's presence. He wanted some
privacy before he spoke with her, and some time to sort out his
chaotic thoughts. 
     Xian Lin had taught him more than controlling his ki. He
had learned and seen the advantage of actually thinking before he
acted. He really didn't particularly enjoy it, mostly because it
only created more headaches and problems than acting on his first
impulse had ever done. The stakes of his current crisis were too
large for him to screw it up however, so he thought and pondered
and tried to muddle his way through it. 
     He could already see where he had made his mistake with
Nabiki. He should have just told her right off what he was doing,
but no, he had tried to be slick and get back at her for every-
thing she had done to him. So now he was in this untenable situ-
ation and very much doubted he could extract himself from it
without giving away too much.
     He had to get her trust him. Nabiki had to understand that
he cared for Akane and was not going to hurt her, but how? There
was one way he knew of, but it was a frightening thought. He had
told no one about what had happened between Akane and himself,
but it would prove how much he cared for her. Could he trust her
with that kind of information, though? 
     Glancing back at her, he caught a brief glimpse of a worried
face before Nabiki noticed him watching and donned one of her
cold masks. Her words gave the impression that she was worried,
but it could have been act. But what would she possibly gain from
any of this? There was no profit in it other than losing him as a
model for her pictures. He doubted the few thousand she scrounged
out of him a month were worth that kind of act; therefore, it was
either genuine concern or he was missing something. He doubted
the latter and the former was too substantiated by her words and
actions to be dismissed like an annoying fly. 
     He glanced back once more and saw her lost in thought. He
made his decision. For good or ill, he decided that it was in his
best interest, and it might just give him the insight he needed
to break the promises without tarnishing his honour. Unconscious-
ly, he began to guide them toward the park and privacy.

     The cessation of movement and the sudden stillness that
permeated the surroundings woke Mousse from his half-sleep.
Warily taking in his position, he realized the engine was no
longer running. That either meant the driver was making a pit
stop or they were in Tokyo. Since they had left after noon, and
it was only an hour to Tokyo, he decided it was the latter.
     Deciding it was the latter left him with a whole new set of
problems though. He had to escape the trailer without getting
caught. Overall this did not bother him, since he was a martial
artist and could easily vanish or outfight anyone who might try
and stop him. That was once he was outside though. Since he was
inside, he had no clue where he was other than someplace in
Tokyo. For all he knew, the truck could be parked in some sort of
warehouse or just as easily parked in a large lot waiting to be
unloaded. 
     Whichever it was would determine his course of action, but
he did not have the ability or the time to figure that out. Lost
in thought, he missed the click of the door opening, but he saw
it start to open outward. With only a moment to act, he decided
on the simplest action. 
     With the sound of a tiptoeing mouse, he streaked from his
sitting position toward the lengthening crack of light in the
door. Suddenly a shadow appeared before him and there was a
surprised shout as he vaulted over the man and into the warm
sunlight of the spring afternoon. 
     Behind him he heard angry muttering and several people
yelling at others to catch him. Mousse decided it was time to
make his abilities as a magician known. With a flourish, he
produced several eggs from his sleeve and dispersed them around
him. There was a puff of billowing smoke, and he used the
distraction to leap to the top of some nearby crates and speed
away from the warehouse. Behind him the angry shouts of the
workers and guards faded and finally disappeared as the bustling
traffic of Tokyo engulfed him.
     For several minutes, he continued his headlong flight, but
finally he slowed and stopped as he realized he was as lost as
Ryouga. Unlike Ryouga though, he was able to determine his
position by descending into a subway and checking one of the
route maps. 
     As his luck, or lack there of, would have it, he had taken
to flight in the wrong direction. Nerima was on the opposite side
of Tokyo from him, a good long ride. Glancing at the subway
counters and then checking his money, he decided it would be
safer taking the subway. If nothing else it would reduce his
chance of being hit by water. On cue someone threw a half-full
soda at him. Screeching in fright he barely ducked it, before the
super-sized McDonald's cup smashed into a trash can, spraying a
dark liquid over the ground and waste receptacle.
     Mousse decided the subway was his safest bet, especially if
he wanted Cologne to get her root. Quickly, he went to purchase a
token and then boarded the train moments before it left. Thirty
minutes later, Mousse was enjoying the sunlit streets of Nerima.
The sound of children laughing as they played with toy mecha in a
vacant lot filled the air. The sharp scent of sizzling meat and
vegetables from a home wafted on the wind and then a woman's
voice calling her family to dinner. The laughing turned to
ecstatic shouts, and the children scurried off, leaving their
forgotten toys behind.
     Mousse smiled a little and walked on. He sometimes wondered
if he would ever have a family. For the past fourteen years of
his life, he had chased after Shampoo. She had never shown an
interest in him, but she had never forced him away. At least she
hadn't until she came to Nerima. Even that did not deter him, and
he someday hoped that Shampoo would simply realize that Ranma did
not love her, and probably only tolerated her. Shampoo, however,
had always been single-minded and stubborn as an ox. Not that he
minded, but it was vexing at times.
     Even his melancholy thoughts could not keep him down. He
had been two months without hearing her sweet voice, without
seeing her lovely face, without the sweet fragrance of lilacs
that always hung about her silky hair. To him that was a worse
torture than the Death of a Thousand. Only the loss of his
Shampoo to one like Ranma could be worse than being separated
from her.
     Banishing those thoughts, Mousse continued on his way.
Rounding a corner he could make out the Ucchan in the distance.
That meant he was only a few blocks from the Nekohaten and the
presence of his guiding light. Unconsciously he picked up his
pace and only a few minutes later, he was rounding the corner and
could see the Nekohaten's sign moving sluggishly in the breeze,
only a few doors down from him. His step light and airy, he
walked to it and entered into the nearly empty dining area.
     That did not bother him though. It was only five in the
evening and the dinner rush never began until at least six, usu-
ally a quarter after. Bypassing the one lone customer, he popped
his head into the kitchen and saw the slightly blurred form of
Shampoo preparing for the dinner rush. His heart burst with joy
at the sight of her, and he threw himself forward.
     "Shampoo!" he cried out as he grabbed her in a fierce hug.
"After two long months, I've returned to give you my love. I
won't leave you again my dearest..." He was silenced as Shampoo
decked him, knocking him into a pile of dirty dishes. There was a
cacophonous clanging as several dozen pots and pans crashed
around him.
     "Mousse no baka!" Shampoo shouted. "Shampoo not Mousse's
Shampoo never be Mousse's. Shampoo is Ranma's."
     "My love, do you not see that Ranma is simply stringing you
along? His love is as nonexistent as a small spring next to the
mighty Pacific that is my love for you."
     "Stupid Mousse not see," Shampoo retorted as she flung a
bowl at him knocking his glasses off and sending the world
into a fuzzy haze of colours and wobbly shapes. "Husband promised
to Shampoo now. Shampoo and Ranma marry," Shampoo declared
emphatically. "Once Shampoo find where Ranma hide" she added as
an afterthought.
     Mousse's mind blanked out her last statement. All he could
think about was her declaration. Ranma had been promised to
Shampoo. Ranma had won her. Ranma had defeated him for her love.
"No!" The scream ripped from his throat in an anguished howl as
he leapt to his feet. "You're mine," he screamed in Mandarin.
"I've always loved you, I always will. I've suffered through the
eternal torments of Shiva to try and gain your love, Shan-pu. I
will not allow this!"
     "Mu-tsu! Shan-pu defeated you in battle. By law, you may not
touch her. Ranma has defeated her and so can claim his place as
his husband. His father has promised him to my great-granddaugh-
ter, and he has also annulled all other engagements. Shan-pu is
now the bride of Ranma." The old crone began to hop out of the
kitchen and then turned back to the shell-shocked Mousse. Mousse
only saw a wrinkled blur through eyes that were slowly filling
with tears. "Welcome back, Mu-tsu."
     With an inarticulate howl of rage, Mousse stumbled past the
ghoul and ran out into the street, his voice raising in a blood-
thirsty cry of vengeance. "You will die, Saotome!" 
     Behind him, Cologne watched the berserk Mousse disappear
down the street. She doubted Mousse was going to last long
against Ranma, and maybe she might discover something new about
his abilities. She did not follow though, there was no need.
Mousse had sunk well beneath Ranma's skills despite fighting him
constantly. She knew that Ranma went easy on almost everyone
except her, Ryouga, and Happousai.
     "Great-grandmother?"
     Cologne did not answer, but she did not tell the girl to
leave either.
     "Shan-pu wants to know if Mu-tsu will be fine. It would be
a pity if he was seriously hurt. You know how he gets when he
becomes desperate about something." She spoke in Mandarin to
keep the people from understanding her.
     "Why should you care for a weak man like Mu-tsu, Great-
granddaughter? He is unworthy to lick the boots of an Amazon,
much less marry one. He is a disgrace to the tribe and should
have been exiled years ago."
     Shampoo dropped her head in shame. She just could not help
but worry about Mousse. Despite his affections toward her, he was
one of her few friends and a link to her childhood. In her own
way she cared for him enough that she did not want to see him
hurt. Ranma might do something serious to him, especially when
Mousse was not about to give in easily on account of his rage.
"Ranma could get in trouble if Mu-tsu is hurt seriously, Great-
grandmother. That is all Shan-pu is worried about."
     "Not to worry, child," Cologne assured the girl. "Son-in- 
law is not going to hurt Mu-tsu. He is just going to teach him
a lesson." Shampoo shuffled off in dejection, leaving Cologne
alone. She watched the now crowding street. Suddenly, a thought
entered her head. She had forgotten to get the root from Mousse.
She was almost tempted to go after him, but decided against it.
He would probably come flying back through the roof any time.

     Nabiki followed Ranma in a half daze. The words "I lost
contro" kept flitting through her mind in accusation. Ranma,
Cologne, and her sister had actually broken through her defenses
and dragged a response from her. To have that be in retaliation
to Ranma's actions and words made the misstep that much more
difficult to bear. That very morning, she had ripped into Taka- 
nari with the efficiency of a stalking tiger. Now she felt as
helpless as a child still on his mother's milk. It was degrading
and humiliating. What had happened to her? How could her emo-
tions, the dark she kept bottled within her, erupt like that? 
     She never admitted that she had feelings for anyone. Al-
though she hated when someone hurt her family, they were _her_
family. They were her life. She did everything she could for
them. That was her reason. That was the reason she did every-
thing. Hadn't she been through harder tests with her family than
this? Was her sister's happiness so important to her that Ranma
could push her over the edge? 
     Yes. She wanted to scream and shout and deny it, but to deny
the truth once it had cast its light upon the mind was to flirt
madness.
     She had lost control. Her emotions had overrun her lines,
flanked her and overwhelmed her battered defenses. Why? Because
she could not stand to see her sister hurt. But why? The question
nagged at her, forced her to look at it although she wanted to
cower within her bed.
     She glanced up and saw Ranma watching her, a cold rage
suddenly filled her. It had to be his fault. Her life had been a
simple game of go before he had arrived. Now she was playing a
master of shogi and losing because she did not know the rules of
the game. Every time she saw Ranma, a different emotion fixated
her mind. The tall figure, the cut of his shoulders, the wiry
muscles and fluid grace made him temptation incarnate. His
gullible and innocent nature made him easy to use. His problems
and fiancees gave her ample ammo. But when he teased Akane or let
his tongue run loose around her, a dark anger built within her.
She hated him and just used him and manipulated him too exact
revenge for her sister. But when he turned around and protected
her sister, made her happy, Nabiki had to relent. Then she would
feel guilty about her machinations against him, but inevitably,
he'd do something stupid and start the cycle once again.
     Why did he affect her so? Because he affected Akane. The
answer was simple, straightforward. It was also deadly. The
thought intruded that she was living vicariously through her
sister. She quashed the thought without a second thought. For
her to live vicariously was an impossibility. She had a life
outside her family. Sure it wasn't emotionally satisfying, but
it had its appeal. Yet the idea that she was looking for more
and had found that in her sister intruded once again.
     Shaking her head, she dropped the line of thought. It was
only causing her grief. She had lost control. That was all. It
had been a slip. Too much pressure at home. Her senior exams
coming up in a few months. The recent deadline on bills and
repair payments. It had just unhinged her. There was no other
possible reason. 
     Sure she was angry at Cologne, but it was a matter of family
love and honour. The woman had disrupted their lives and attacked
family members, or at least prospective family members. As such
she deserved to be dealt with, and that was why she was so
interested in keeping Ranma at the Tendou home. She admitted that
it would make her sister feel better and be happier, but who
wouldn't want to help her own sister?
     She was doing it for her sister because she was family.
There was no other answer. She closed the book on the discussion,
and locked it tightly away within her mind. That was a weakness,
and Tendou Nabiki did not have any weaknesses, even imaginary
ones. But the nagging suspicion had planted a seed in her mind,
and as all seeds will, it settled and began to spread its roots
in fertile soil.
     Nabiki raised her eyes to Ranma and the world around her.
They were entering the park. Only a few people were walking
about. It was still too early for the day's workers to trudge
home from their jobs, and most children were either entrapped in
activities or schoolwork. They had the park to themselves, and
Nabiki realized Ranma had wanted it that way.
     Although she would never admit, she was beginning to feel
uncomfortable walking a few steps behind Ranma. It was not fear
but discomfiture with the whole situation, with Ranma in parti-
cular. Why that was she did not know. The way he walked, his
steps measured and rigid instead of his usual carefree grace, the
quiet and distant appearance he had effected disturbed her. She
was unable to shake Ukyou's inadvertent warning. This was not
Ranma she was dealing with. 
     When he had walked away, Ranma had given her no choice but
to follow. Follow or lose, the choice had been easy. Losing was
an alien concept to her. Even when she made wagers, she came out
ahead by taking percentages and rigging the odds slightly.
Stupidity was one thing she had never been accused of, and she
made sure she never would by always giving herself a safety net.
     She was walking a tightrope without a safety net though,
and it was because of this new attitude he sported. She had seen
a glimpse of it in his face. Although she saw emotion, it never
connected with what he said. Anger in his voice would mock
brooding and melancholy eyes. It simply disturbed her.  
     When he finally slowed and settled against a tree, Nabiki
almost breathed a sigh of relief. She felt like she was in the
Twilight Zone and everything was about to be explained. 
     "Why don't you trust me?" Ranma asked as Nabiki took a seat
across from him.
     Nabiki was startled by the question. It had been the last
thing she had expected Ranma to say, but she answer it
automatically. "Trust doesn't make money."
     "Always money," he said softly. "Always honour. It ain't
ever about someone else or maybe just yourself. Always something
else driving you." Nabiki knew he was talking to her, but she was
unable to shake the feeling that she was not in his thoughts as
he spoke.
     "Of course, Ranma. Can I trust people to just pay me? Can I
gain money on faith? The world doesn't work that way, kiddo. So
why should I believe you?"
     "Why didn't you ever ask me about what put me in the hos-
pital?" He was still not looking at her, but she felt as if he
was undressing her.
     "I didn't have the time. This all happened so fast." 
     "You had nearly a week, maybe more. Yet you didn't do any-
thing. It's not like that story we cooked up was very good. Face
it, that story sucked, and I knew it. Every minute, I kept expec-
ting you to figure it out and suck me dry, but you never did."
     "I don't know why I didn't. It just wasn't..." She was frus-
trated. She had wanted to find out. For days she had pondered
over the incident, unable to find a way inside Ranma and Akane's
defenses. They just did not talk about it, and no one else had
had a clue about it. Now he was carelessly throwing it out like a
tasty morsel on a hook. She saw the hook, but her hunger for it
was unbearable. He had whetted her appetite, aroused her curio-
sity. All the previous frustration and unanswered questions had
returned at his words. Whether he knew it or not, Ranma had
caught her.
     "Do you want to know?" She couldn't help herself. The one
thing she hated was an unanswered question, the next was being in
the dark. In this situation, Ranma had her in both and it was
driving her crazy. She bit down on the bait as he sank the hook.
     "What do you want?"
     Ranma was silent for a moment, then he lifted his face and
gazed directly at her. Ranma examined Nabiki. He knew he had her.
The eager light in her eyes, that Ranma doubted she even realized
was there, the way she leaned forward expectantly told him he had
hooked her. What did he want though? He wanted Akane. So he
needed a way out, and Nabiki could help him find one or make one.
This information would be the price for her help, and her silence
about what he was going to tell her. "I want your silence. You'll
never tell another person what I tell you." Nabiki started to nod
in acceptance. "And you'll help me on my conditions, not yours,
and it won't be your agenda either," he finished. 
     Nabiki's head halted in mid-nod, chagrin filling her face.
At first Ranma thought she was going to refuse, but after a few
moments she mumbled her acceptance. Sighing in relief, Ranma
closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Slowly, but with growing
confidence, he began to relate to Nabiki the events that had lead
to his hospitalization.
     As he told the tale, he carefully scrutinized Nabiki's face,
watching as it went from casual acceptance of his attempted
suicide to shock when he told how he had been with Akane. But
even that had faded to a stony-faced No-drama mask by the time
his tale ended with what had happened in the hospital room.
     Silence descended on them as the last syllable passed his
lips. The wind sighing through the new leaves on the trees could
be heard as clearly as a brazen fanfare of brass. The melodious
song of a bird flitted through the air, to be followed by the
angry chattering of a squirrel. The world around them lived, but
between them both existed nothingness. No speech, no thought,
they simply watched each other. It was anti-climatic compared to
the terror and elation that had come from forcing himself to
admit his failure and thereby beat Nabiki. But this silence
disturbed him, and he was frustrated by his inability to break
the spell.
     "Why did you tell me?" Nabiki's voice, though a whisper,
slammed into him with the force of a typhoon, unhinging his
already frayed mind, shattering the peace.
     "I-I needed you to trust me. I-I needed," his voice faltered
and then he found it again, "I need help."
     Leaning forward,  Nabiki gazed at him speculatively. Ranma
barely suppressed the shudder that ran through his body at her
look. As clearly as the temple bells tolling through the morning
air, he could hear the gears turning in her devious mind. The
certainty that she was going to use him sent a rush of fear-in-
duced adrenaline through his blood. 
     Nabiki, however, was unable to consider using Ranma at the
moment. To say she was in shock from his disclosure was to imply
that she was mildly fond of money. Even in her wildest dreams she
had never imagined something comparable to Ranma's story. If she
had known about it a few weeks ago, she would have been rolling
in money from not only Ranma but Kunou, Shampoo, Ukyou, and maybe
Kodachi and Ryouga, and that was not even tallying the rumors she
could have 'sold' at school. Now, though, she was clamped by the
promise Ranma had extracted from her, and by the realization of
the lengths Ranma was willing to go to protect Akane.
     He told her the story because he wanted help, needed help.
Ranma had told her despite what he knew she might do with the
information. What had caused Ranma to risk trusting her? She was
tempted to prove him correct and climb to her feet, leaving him
there, but something in his body held her in place.
     For the first time since she had seen him wake up, Nabiki
took the time to meticulously examine him. The changes were
subtle, but they were apparent to her knack for interpreting
human behaviour. Physically, he was the same. The dark hair and
light eyes, the strength of body and fluidity of movement that
marked his fighting skills. Instead of his flamboyant arrogance
and reckless attitude, he exuded a determination and strength
that had never been there before. It reminded her of his arro-
gance, but it wasn't arrogance. It was more like he no longer had
to prove he was better than everyone; he knew it.
     The changes, however, did not stop in the way he carried
himself. His eyes were the most startling difference. As she
looked into them she saw the vitality that had always been there,
but it scarcely veiled the sorrow and conflict behind it. And
beyond that, even deeper and harder to see in his rugged face was
acceptance and anger burning side by side.
     Ranma reminded her of her grandfather after his first heart
attack. It had been a year or two before her mother's death. She
could recall eavesdropping on her father had mother as they were
encouraging the beloved patriarch to take it easy. The old codger
had laughed their attempts off with a dismissive wave of his
hand. "Stop mothering me, boy!" he chastised her father. "Life
gave me a weak heart, but a weak heart is not going to give me an
unfulfilled life. If the kami wish to take me, they can have me,
but until that time, I'm doing what I damn well please."
     Her eyes had been drawn to her grandfather. He was kneeling
on a tatami mat, his body frail and weak, but his dark eyes had
burned just as Ranma's burned now. There was determination in
them. He turned his head, his gaze fastening on her small face
peeking in through the slightly open door. Gasping she had
backpedaled away from the door and scurried back to her own room.
     When he had looked at her, it was as if a light had entered
her mind as the mask of determination was replaced with sadness
and acceptance, if not a tiny amount of anger. Here was a man who
cared little about his own mortality, but one who was never going
to give up life. Hadn't he been a kamikaze pilot in the Second
World War? The only reason he had survived was that his plane had
clipped a destroyer, sending him plummeting into the waters off
the Okinawan shore. For two days he had kept himself afloat until
he had been able to trudge ashore and join an infantry unit
fighting to repel the Marine Landing Forces. 
     The sea had not stopped him. The burning plane had never
stopped him. The guns and artillery had not stopped him. So why
should a weak heart stop him from living his life out how he
wanted? But Nabiki had seen that he knew deep down that to do
that was to shorten his life and hurt him further, but he would
not give in because it was his life. The same look burned in
Ranma's face.
     She did not know what he had gone through, but if his revel-
ation about him and Akane only scratched the surface, she doubted 
she wanted to know. More importantly though, it proved that his
goal was not his honour. She saw that in his story. He had pro-
tected Akane's honour but taken the disgrace on himself for his
actions. Was that why he had broken his engagement? So Akane
could have a choice and not be forced into something she hated? 
     Suddenly, like with her grandfather, a light of understand-
ing and sympathy opened in her mind. She beat the sympathy down
and ignored it. She was not going to get emotional, but the un-
derstanding helped her see Ranma and made it easier for her to
give into his request.
     Ranma watched Nabiki. She opened her mouth and spoke. She
didn't laugh at him. She didn't chastise him or demean him. She
simply said, "I'll do what I can."
     Relief flooded through Ranma as he sank back against the
tree. For a moment he simply relished his victory like a fine
meal, but eventually his predicament and impending sense of doom
forced him to speak. "Is there anything to get me out of these
stupid promises?"
     "I don't know," Nabiki admitted. "To tell you the truth,
I've been trying to think of ways to make Cologne nullify this
agreement, but I can't think of anything to hold over her. That
is unless you'd be willing to threaten, torture, or kill
Shampoo."
     "I can't do that. Maybe threaten her, but Cologne would only
laugh at that. I'm not even sure that would work anyway. I've got
this feeling that if I got rid of Shampoo, she'd just hunt me
down and kill me for her Amazon honour."
     "You're probably right, but it helps to keep your options
open." Ranma grunted in reply. "What have you decided?" Nabiki
asked curiously. 
     Ranma was silent a moment and then spoke. "If nothing comes
up, I'm just going to ignore the promises, but even that won't
work. If I do that, I'm terrified that Cologne or Shampoo will
try to hurt Akane, or maybe kill her. I need a way to get them
off my back for good. The promises are nothing. I don't give a
damn about keeping my honour for those two."
     He lifted his face so Nabiuki could see his eyes. "The Ama-
zon's don't have a good grasp on honour. They've been isolated so
long that this whole set of silly rituals and petty insults have
just been ingrained into them. Hell, this thing about defeating
an Amazon woman is a perfect example." 
     "How so?" Nabiki asked. What Ranma had just said ignited a
spark in her mind. There was something she was missing, but it
would not get to her. Unlike Ranma though, she was not one to
ignore those annoying suspicions. Instead she prodded him on for
more information to knock loose the thought.
     "Just think about it. I go down there and beat Shampoo as a
girl. She has to kill me because she lost face by being defeated
by an outside girl. That makes some sort of sense, although just
defeating me would have been enough to satisfy honour. Killing
takes it too far." Ranma threw his hands up in the air and then
pushed himself from the ground and began pacing in front of
Nabiki.
     "But that is the whole problem. There is no middle ground in
an Amazon. It is one way or the other. That's why Shampoo 'loves'
me. She has to. But it makes no sense. I defeat her as a girl and
as a boy. As a girl I did it legally, as a boy it was a mistake.
Yet she decides to marry me. Why? I don't understand it."
     "Maybe she thought that being defeated by accident is more
of a blow to her honour than being defeated for real."
     "No it's not! Honour is lost by the attacker if he wins from
an unfair advantage. Shampoo had the right to challenge me right
there to a real fight, and if I refused, I would have lost honour
not her."
     "Maybe she was afraid that she would win?"
     "Huh?"
     "Think about it. She comes from a tribe where the women are
stronger fighters than the men, and she loses to you as a girl.
She therefore thinks that maybe you are weaker in your male form
and won't be able to defeat her, and so she'll have to kill you
as a girl, which she can't do."
     "So she decides to love me instead of lose face," Ranma
finished, his eyes wide, "But after a while, she realized I was
better as a boy than as a girl."
     "So she just let the defeat stand and fell in love with
you," Nabiki finished for him.
     "Why are we talking about this?" Ranma suddenly exclaimed as
his patience ran out. "Whether or not she loves me and why is not
going to solve this problem." He was becoming frustrated. Not
being able to see an end or solution vexed him, and always
shortened his fuse.
     "Ranma, you're absolutely hopeless."
     "Hey, I thought you were going to help me!" Ranma snapped.
     "I am, you jerk," Nabiki retorted.
     "I don't need to take this," Ranma said flatly.
     "Oh, for crying out loud. Just shut your mouth and sit down.
Who cares about your damn pride? I thought you were doing this to
help Akane. Do you want me to tell her you went to Shampoo
because you couldn't talk civilly for half an hour?" 
     Ranma mutely shook his head and sat down. "That's better.
Now like I was going to say, before you decided to shoot off your
mouth, sometimes talking about the subject that is bothering you
will reveal it's own answer. Do you think people solve problems
just by hitting their head on a door and yelling, 'Eureka!'?" 
     "Gomen," Ranma apologized, "I guess I'm just really
stressed."
     "Aren't we all," Nabiki said under her breath.
     "What did you say?"
     "Nothing. Let's get on with this."
     "What were we talking about?" Ranma asked in an exhuasted
voice, rubbing his right brow.
     "You were talking about how Shampoo loves you because you
defeated her," Nabiki prompted.
     "Oh yeah," Ranma said sheepishly. "Like I said, I never
really defeated her as a guy. It was an accident, and then you
told me 'bout how she decided to lose less face by marrying
me. Gods, this is confusing. So she wants to marry me to save
her honour, but somehow she fell in love with me."
     "Or convinced herself that she did," Nabiki added.
     "Maybe, but I doubt it." Nabiki raised an eyebrow at his
comment by allowed him to continue speaking. "The Amazons have
this peculiar thing about guys defeating them. I mean if any guy
defeats an Amazon woman, she has to marry him. I think it has
something to do with honour lost from the defeat and then re-
gained by marrying and dominating the guy as his wife. But why
not just kill an outsider male? And what happens when a Amazon
guy beats an outside girl?"
     "Ranma you're a little off track now."
     "I know. It's just that their idea of honour is way bizarre.
It makes sense, but it is so..so..primitive."
     "That's strange. Cologne thought Japanese honour was weak
because it classified honour."
     "Hmph! That sounds like her. She's more extreme than my
father when it comes to martial arts and honour. I really hate
dealing with her. I hate dealing with them all. Sometimes I wish
I had never defeated Shampoo, or someone else had..." He stopped,
his eyes opening wide. He turned to Nabiki and saw the same
expression on her face.
     "If someone else defeated Shampoo..." Nabiki began.
     "It would force Shampoo to have a real match with me. There
is no way the other suitor would allow my accidental defeat to
stand," Ranma completed.
     "Especially if you dropped hints to him," Nabiki added, "And
then you only have to lose and you're free. A promise to marry is
nothing if Shampoo can't marry you."
     "No, I don't even need to fight. I'll win if I do. I'll deny
the right to a rematch, lose some honour, and walk away a free
man." Ranma was smiling broadly now, his eyes sparkling.
     "So who gets to marry Shampoo?" Nabiki asked.
     "Who've we got?"
     "Ryouga?"
     "Nah, he's in love with Akane. There is no way that pig is
going to help me get Akane." 
     Nabiki nodded in agreement. "How about Kunou?"
     "He could never defeat her. That idiot has the martial skill
of a beginning student. Besides, I doubt he's intelligent enough
to understand what he'd be doing."
     "Who else does that leave?" Nabiki asked.
     "Ranma! I cannot allow this to stand. You'll die!" A new
voice shouted from the trees. 
     As Ranma dodged the descending chain, he smiled and nodded
to Nabiki as they both said, "Mousse."

     Mousse was in a blind rage. His feet carried him away from
the Nekohaten, his body blindly following where he took him. He
knew his first stop was the Tendou Dojo, but there he did not
find Ranma, so he began scouring the city. From Furinkan to the
city proper, he searched in a zigzag, his rage growing as his
efforts yielded naught.
     His mind was a whirling torment of hatred and burning rage.
Ranma. Shampoo. Married. She wasn't his. She had never been his.
A dark depression began to well up in him. Everything his life
had been built upon was gone in an instant. The mountain-like
foundation of his love had been crumbled like a straw house with
a few words from his beloved. 
     He could never hate her though, so he turned his malice onto
the person he could destroy. Ranma. Like so many other people,
the name had become a curse on his lips. Today ended the reign of
Saotome Ranma as the premier martial artist and pretty boy of
Nerima. Mousse was determined to drag his enemy down if he had to
die doing it. There was nothing left for him anyway.
     His feet brought him to the park. entering it, his eyes
automatically scanned the paths and shaded trees for his prey. He
knew Ranma came here to jog fairly often, or to follow Akane when
she jogged. Because of this it was a safe bet that he would be
here. Then he saw the red shirt, the black hair, and a girl with
short, dark hair. There was only one person who that could be.
     Leaping to a tree, he screamed out his challenge in a
ringing voice as he pulled a razor sharp blade attached to a thin
chain from he inside of his robe and flung it. "Ranma! I can't
allow this to stand. You'll die!" Ranma of course dodged, as
Mousse had expected, but then the fight was on.
     Ranma reacted quickly to Mousse's attack. After leaping
backward, he launched forward, grabbed the embedded razor blade,
and tangled the chain around a tree, removing one of Mousse's
many weapons. Landing on his feet, he ducked as he heard the
flutter of the blind magician's robe. A mace flew through the
space where his head had been and landed dangerously close to
Nabiki. 
     Nabiki squeaked in fright as the spiked mace gouged the
grass by her left thigh. "Nabiki!" Ranma shouted, as he grabbed
another mace from the air and tossed it into a tree, "Get outta
here. I'll deal with Mousse."
     Slowly, to mask her fear and make sure Ranma and Mousse
thought she was unruffled, Nabiki gained her feet and waved non-
chalantly at Ranma. "It's been nice doing business with you,
Ranma-kun. See you!" Nabiki began to leave.
     "Hey, Nabiki! Save some food for me," Ranma shouted as he
swept in close to Mousse, and flipped him against a tree. "On
second thought, forget that. I'll eat at Ucchan's," Ranma amended
after he saw the gleam in Nabiki's eye and the rage-filled face
of Mousse as he climbed to his feet.
     "Your loss," Nabiki answered and walked away from the scene
whistling cheerfully.
     Ranma promptly forgot about her, and turned his attention
back to Mousse who was charging him like a feral bull. Leaping,
Ranma barely managed to twist his body out of the way as Mousse
threw a spear at him. At the height of his leap, he grabbed a
tree branch, swung up into the tree and leaned against the bark.
Ranma did not really want to fight Mousse, especially since the
Amazon was the most essential person in getting him off the hook
with Shampoo. 
     "Hey, Mousse!" he called out and then leaned backwards and
swung to the next lower branch just as two knives and a shuriken
flew through his recently vacated position. "I think we need to
talk."
     "There is nothing to talk about, Saotome. Die!" Ranma had to
leap from the tree this time as Mousse unleased several razor
sharp disks that sheared the branches around him. Ranma realized
Mousse was playing serious, and if he was going to get him to
listen he would have to beat him; however, he wanted to see if he
could reason with the guy first. But looking at the enraged
Mousse, he decided it was going to be about as easy as explaining
one of his fiancee's plots to Akane.
     "Listen, Mousse." He dodged a chain. "I don't wanna marry
Shampoo." Two swords and a rather nasty looking iron hook on a
chain scraped past his ear. "If you'd just listen, dammit! I
can explain."
     Mousse stopped for a moment and glared daggers at Ranma as
his breath rattled in his throat. "You've destroyed my life,
Saotome. You've taken the only thing that has ever meant anything
to me. Because of you I can never have my Shampoo. She does not
love me. She despises me. She loves you, and I will kill you for
stealing her love." 
     With an inarticulate cry of rage, Mousse unleashed a storm
of weapons at Ranma. Ranma's skin went untouched, right off
several objects ripped his shirt and pants open. Looking at the
torn fabric, Ranma decided that enough was enough. He had neither
the strength nor the patience to play dodge-ball with this idiot
who he was trying to help.
     As Mousse began another wave of attacks, Ranma went into
action. His form became a blur as he ducked beneath several
flying chains. As they slowed he grabbed them and twirled them,
wrapping the chain around Mousse's forearm. With a tug, he forced
Mousse to stumble forward to regain his balance. Ranma acted with
the speed of an attacking hawk. 
     Slipping beneath the stumbling Mousse, Ranma scissored the
magician's feet as he unleased several hundred tightly controlled
punches directly into his opponent's solar plexus. The breath
slammed out of Mousse's lungs, and he slumped to the ground as
Ranma rolled out from under him.
     Pulling himself into a crouched position, Ranma dusted off
his clothing and watched Mousse with a critical eye. "Are you
ready to talk yet? Or do you want another lesson in martial
arts?" Ranma mentally slapped himself as the second sentence left
his mouth. 
     With an inhuman growl, Mousse vaulted his body from the
ground and came down in a fighting stance in front of Ranma.
Pushing his glasses back up onto his nose, he proceeded to
attack. 
     Ranma was getting fairly annoyed with the way things were
going. It was not difficult for him to avoid Mousses' attacks,
but the ridiculous objects that kept appearing in the man's hands
were driving him crazy. Finally, Ranma had had enough. With a
cry, he rushed Mouse and slipped under a punch.
     Slipping behind the startled magician, Ranma wrapped his
arms around Mousse's chest and launched them both into the air.
Mousse attempted to struggle out of Ranma's grasp, but Ranma had
locked his hands. Rage still burned within Mousse, but he knew
deep down he had lost, especially when he saw the fountain Ranma
was planning to land in. 
     It was to be said in Mousse's favour, that he did not go
gently into that goodnight. Instead he kicked with his heel,
gouging Ranma's shin and ankle with a sharp hook. He brought his
elbow back into Ranma's ribs, connecting solidly with Ranma's
slowly healing wound. Mousse was rewarded with a grunt of pain,
but Ranma still refused to let go, and then they were crashing
into the water.
     As he felt his body shrink, the bones lighten and change
position as a thousand pins pricked his skin as the feathers
bloomed from his body, he released his rage and watched as its
bright flame was smothered by a dark despair. He didn't care
anymore. He had lost his love to the one person he could never
win it back from. Hell, he hadn't even won her in the first
place.    
     Mentally he shook his head, it did not matter anymore. Even
if he could win her love, Ranma had gone to her. Mousse knew that
he was incapable of defeating Ranma. He was good, one of the
better Amazon males, despite his vision problems. When compared
to Ranma though, he was a small sparrow facing the slashing
talons of a majestic eagle. He knew superiority when he saw it,
and nothing he could learn, not even the Aborigine techniques he
had forgotten in his rage, would help him defeat Ranma.
     As the despair overtook him, his will deserted him, and his
mind accepted the inevitable. His life had no meaning now. Why
should he continue fighting, continue living? There was no
reason. He would end his pain and his life at the same moment.
     "Mousse, we need to talk." Ranma's voice barely penetrated
the depressed fog of Mousse's mind. What importance could Ranma's
words of consolation have to him? 
     "I need your help, Mousse." Mousse tried to block his
enemy's voice from his head, but Ranma's rich voice reached
him anyway. "I'm going to assume you know that I've been
promised to Shampoo." Thrashing his feet violently as Ranma
rubbed salt into his torn heart, Mousse almost forced himself
to fight again, but a voice told him it was useless.
     Ranma placed him on the ground. Tucking his head under his
wing, Mousse curled into a ball of feathers and ignored Ranma and
life. "I don't want to marry her. I'm being forced into this, but
I can't get out without a good reason. I want you to marry
Shampoo." 
     At these words, Mousse snapped his head up and gazed in
shock at Ranma's face. Her eyes were serious, dead serious. He
saw no trace of humour, but instead saw pleading in the face of
his mortal enemy. Ranma did not love Shampoo. Ranma did not want
her. The words echoed in his mind like a joyous, triumphal chant. 
     "I want to help you win Shampoo's hand. Are you willing?"
     Unable to express his feelings verbally or even physically,
he could only nod his feathered head in acceptance. Never had he
imagined a day such as this one. He was being given a chance at
his true love by his rival for Shampoo's heart. Silently, he
prayed to the Ancestors that he was living in reality and not
some dream. 
     He felt Ranma's slight hands lift him from the ground, and
then he was being carried. "Let's get some hot water, Mousse. We
need to talk. We have a lot of things to plan."
     Mousse heard the words but did not care. His world was
filled with other thoughts, other dreams. As they passed a lot,
the sound of laughter reached Mousse's ears. Glancing to the
side, he saw the same children he had seen before. They were
playing with their toy mecha as their parents watched over them
protectively. For the first time in his life, Mousse was able to
imagine himself standing next to Shampoo, watching their children
play. A dream, but one that had a chance to come true. 
     He glanced up at Ranma. She was lost in thought as she
walked, her eyes fixed sightlessly on the street in front of her.
Mousse realized he owed his life and happiness to this confusing
companion of his. He did not know how he would ever repay it, but
he knew he would do everything in his power to repay Ranma for
what she had given to him this day.



     Author's Notes:

There is one thing in her I have to explain, because youm might
not understand it. That is the Death of a Thousand.
     The Death of a Thousand is an old Chinese form of the death
penalty. It was generally a punishment given by the Khan to war
prisoners, traitors, and anyone who accidentally stepped in their
shadow or looked at them wrong on a bad day.
     Basically it goes like this. The Prisoner is given to the
Fondler who ties the man or woman to a table. Next a basket is
brought forward. Inside of it there are a thousand pieces of
silk, eash with a part of the body written on it. There are three
hundred and thirty-two body parts so each part has three slips.
There are four slips that are instant death. Anyway a slip is
drawn and that part of the body is given particular attention.
The first time it is drawn (say it is the pinky), the Fondler
might take a pin and slowly insinuate it beneath the finger nail
and probe with in the finger for a time, sending lots of pain
into the prisoner. The next time the finger is drawn, the Fondler
would slice the skin to the bone and lay it bare. Only when the
third is drawn is the finger removed.
     No two pains are exactly alike and the body is kept awake
and alive the entire time. This death can last up to a hundred
days and even more. Very insidious, and very apt comparrison for
Mousse's love if you know what I'm speaking of.
     If you're interested, I get almost all my information on
ancient (or is it Medieval) China from the book "The Journeyer"
by Gary Jennings, pub. by Avon Fiction. This is the story of
Marco Polo and is very very good.

     Well on to my comments.
     I'd like to thank all of my pre-readers who have been
helping me up to this point. Sutedja, "Pheonix" , Jorge Flores
Topete, and Rea have been a great help in making this thing
readable and commenting on my story and plot. Thanks a bunch
guys. You're the greatest.

     Any way onto the actuall omments. I don't really have any.
Mostly because I think I've described and explained myself so
many times that it seems like I'm covering redundant material in
these sections. SO I'll shut up and allow you to ponder what I'm
going to do next.

Please comment on this. I'd really appreciate it. And thanks to
all who already have commented, all of your advice has been very
helpful

   ----*----*----*----*----*----*----*----*----*----
   All rights and priveleges to Ranma Nibunnoichi       
   belong to Rumiko Takahashi. The characters of her        
   series are used without her permission for the       
   purpose of entertainment only. This work of fic-
   tion is not meant for sale or profit.                    
                                                                         
   All original characters are the creation of the
   author. All copyright privileges to these chara-
   cters are reserved for the author.

   This story is a product of the author's hard work    
   and imagination. Do not modify, add to, or make 
   use of any part of this work without the author's 
   knowledge and consent. Please feel free to archive 
   this work.                             
            
   Comments and criticism are welcome.                   
   Written by Joseph A. Kohle, (c) 1997.                 
   Send all comments to Ashira@worldnet.att.net
   Find my fanfics at 
   http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Flats/index.html