This is an older story that only my prereaders ever got to see. It's
been MAJORLY overhauled and I've changed the name to better suit the
ending. Still, I'm not happy with title, anyone got any better ideas?
C&C is appreciated and will be reciprocated, wink wink ;)

	Memories Mask

;_; ^_^ ;_; ^_^ ;_;

	Downtown Nermia had just settled into the rhyme of a Sunday afternoon
lunch crowd. Hungry people went to their favorite restaurants and met
with friends, looking to pass the afternoon with friendly conversation
and a bowl of ramen. Young schoolgirls licked ice-cream cones while
discussing the secrets of the universe, and of course who was going to
what party and with whom. The young schoolboys ignored their stomachs
and basic communication skills, being far too busy searching the arcades
for the latest in cyber brain suckers.  

	Daisuke and Hiroshi took a break from the rigorous regimen of mindless
entertainment and had broken with tradition to snag a bite to eat. The
latest Virtua Fighter was being ignored in favor of corndogs with
mustard. Not to mention the all-important musings on whether or not
Ranma had, well, you know, with his fiancee yet. All in all, it was a
peaceful setting. 

	Then the martial artists showed up.

	"Ranma Saotome! You die!"

	"Look, I'm telling you, it wasn't like that." Ranma yelled, dodging a
barrage of daggars. "Arrgh, if you'd only stop and listen to me for a
sec!"

	Hiroshi and Daisuke ignored the crash as Ranma and friend came flying
through the window behind them. "Who's it this time?" yawned Daisuke as
he prepared his corndog, taking care to spread just the right amount of
mustard over the top.

	"Moosh."  mumbled Hiroshi, half a corndog still hanging from his mouth.

	"Who?" asked Daisuke, turning around. A throwing dart lodged itself
into his lunch. "Oh," he sighed, trying to figure where to start on his
meal without getting cut, "Mousse."

	"Listen Mousse, it ain't my fault your having problems with your
girlfriend. I've got enough troubles as it is without you trying to play
Pin the Shuriken on the Saotome." Ranma complained from behind an
overturned table. Ranma's impromptu shield looked as though it had
gotten in a fight with a mechanized hedgehog from hell. When no more
sharp objects sunk themselves into the table, Ranma dared a peek at his
adversary.

	Mousse was simply standing there, reflecting. "Ranma Saotome, how does
one forgive you? You've stolen the heart of my love and then you taunt
me with your prize. Still, I could forget all that if only I could be
sure you were treating her with the respect she deserves.  But no, you
walk upon her feelings like she was some sort of doormat, a trophy to
prove your manhood. As Shampoo's avenger, I will cut you down!" With a
snarl, he realized another flurry of blades at Ranma.

	"Darn it Mousse, I've been going easy on you but ain't leaving me with
much choice." Ranma leaped over the table in a backward somersault as
Mousse's weapons passed harmlessly beneath him, striking the back wall.
Spinning in midair, Ranma came down on his target's head, slamming him
into the floor with both knees.  

	"Look, maybe, just maybe, your right 'bout all this.  But how the heck
are we supposed to talk this kinda stuff out if you keep trying to kill
me?  I uh…" Ranma  was stopped short at the sound of a impaled,
half-eaten corndog hitting the floor.

	Daisuke and Hiroshi stood there, dumbfounded. "Ran-Ranma, d-did you
just ad-admit to being w-wrong?" 

	"Aw, cut that out guys, I said maybe and don't be going and distracting
me in the middle of a fight." Ranma said, waving his friends off. Then
he felt a rumbling from underneath him.

	"Maybe, Saotome? Maybe your wrong?" <snikt> Mousse's arms seemed to
spring twin fighting claws. He swung up at Ranma who rolled off him,
dodging the swipe. Pressing his advantage, he lunged forward in a hard
slash to Ranma's face. Snarling, he approached, working the two blades
in precise and deadly movements.

	Ranma hopped back on one foot to dodge the first slash, ducked the
second, and leapt over the third. "Hey, watch it with those things,
somebodies gonna get hurt." Frantically sidestepping another lunge, he
watched as his opponent smashed into the table behind him. Mousse turned
to face his foe, and  cockily admonished him with a  wave of a finger.
Behind him, the two sides of the table split neatly in half as he cocked
his head to the side. Light glinted off his thick glasses and he allowed
himself a smile. Then he went in for the kill.

	Ranma eyes narrowed as he stood his ground. In the span of an instant,
he calculated the proper range of his opponet and took into account
Mousse's increased reach. Another part of his brain sized up his
opponent's approach and the angle of the claws. When he was done, Ranma
was prepared with a hundred different counters for the coming assault,
some of them lethal. Then he tossed them all to the side and reacted on
instinct.

	Where Ranma's chest had been just nanoseconds before, the claws found
only air. Strong hands clenched Mousse's, painfully at the wrist. The
owner of those arms stood up from his ducking crouch and turned his
advesaries arms to either side. Mousse's wrists snapped and popped under
Ranma's relentless grip.  

	"I told you," growled Ranma, "to put these stupid toys away."  With
that, he brought Mousse forward into a fierce headbutt. The force sent
the Chinese boy sailing across the room, and his claws clattered noisily
to the ground.

	"I-I'll ," choked out a battered Mousse, "I'll show you some toys!" 
His hands suddenly bristled with at least a dozen more of the deadly
darts. Howling from the exertion, he threw them all at once. Ranma's
eyes widened and he scrambled to get out of harm's way.

	Unfortunately, that was also the moment the ladies bathroom door chose
to open, smashing Ranma behind it. He cried out as several of the blades
penetrated the door. A few, missing his vital areas by mere inches. 
While he was busy playing with the door, Mousse saw only the young woman
who was walking out of the bathroom.  Her chosen steps running right in
death's path!

	Time seemed to stop for everyone in the room. The restaurant's patrons
bemusement turning to horror as they screamed warnings that would be too
late. All the girl saw was light glinting off something coming toward
her, no idea what it was. Mousse moved.

	In the earlist days of the East, when the oldest of legends were still
being created, the gods use to ask their faithful to accomplish
impossible deeds. This were simply tools to tests one's perserverance
and disciple. Taking one on was a lifetime quest. More of a search for
truth then anything the ancient ones actually believed you could
accomplish. To actually perform one of these tasks signified you held
power beyond even the dragons! Ranma slammed the door back shut just in
time to see Mousse perform such a task. 

	Mousse had caught his own bo-shuriken, a hairsbreadth from the young
women's stomach!

	"Ar-Are you all right miss?" Mousse stammered, his face pale and drawn.
For some reason, he found himself unable to move, his hand still
clutching the dart, a dart that was still less then an inch from the
young woman's abdomen. As his eyes locked with hers, the young man saw
his own face reflected in the young woman's eyes. But it wasn't his
face, it was far too young, and it had been crying. Something deep in
the back of his mind began to stir.

	Screaming, the girl slapped Mousse, hard. With tears in her eyes, she
ran to her friends as the people in the restaurant started mumbling. The
slap brought him back to the here and now. Still, he couldn't shake the
feeling that something important had happened. 

	Ranma was getting nervous, most of the patrons were arguing whether or
not to call the cops. Even more, Mousse bothered him. That slap couldn't
have been anything compared to what Shampoo, an Amazon who casually
walked through cement wall, could do. So, why had all the blood rushed
from his face when the she had hit him? 

	"Uh, Ranma, I think you and your friend should leave. Me and Hiroshi
know the drill. We'll handle things." Daisuke put his arm on his friend,
giving him a confident smile.  

	Ranma just nodded and cautiously walked over to Mousse. "Hey, you hear
that?  We got to get out of here." Ranma punctuated his sentence with a
whap to the head. "Geez, snap out of it already, ain't you a guy?
Besides, it's your own fault. I told you to put those stupid things away
before somebody got hurt."

	He fell silent as Mousse slowly turned to him. "You're right, let's
go." Mousse got up quietly and leapt outside. Ranma stood there for a
few seconds, dumbfounded, were those tears in Mousse's eyes?

;_; ^_^ ;_; ^_^ ;_;

	It took Ranma almost an hour to catch up with him again. Mousse had
come to rest on a shrine's rooftop and hadn't said a word since. He
looked at his silent companion, concerned. "Hey, you okay Mousse?  You
haven't said nuthin since we got here. Haven't even tried to kill me or
anything, what's up?"

	Mousse simply sat on the edge of his roof. He stared at the shiny dart
in his hand, wondering why it seemed so odd that it was clean? His hands
were shaking as he turned it over in the light. Why did he expect it to
be covered with the last remains of someone's life?

	Ranma put his hands behind his head. "That ah, that move you did back
there. It was pretty good. Where'd you learn to move that fast?" Ranma
asked as he stepped closer. "Not that I couldn't of done it you
understand." He amended quickly. Mousse just kept on looking at his
dart. Ranma was getting concerned, what was wrong with him?  He'd never
seen the guy like this before.   

	Slowly, and with a voice that seemed disturbed at the break in silence,
he spoke. "Ran-Ranma, have you ever killed anyone?"

	Ranma tried to smile reassuringly and sat down beside the disturbed
boy, "Heh, one time when Kuno glomped me I…" Ranma's voice trailed off
as Mousse turned to look at him. Why did his eyes seem to be pleading
with him? He thought back to times when the urge had seemed to overwhelm
him. Times when his anger had threatened to swallow his soul. He
remembered when he first realized that he might not ever see his mother
again. How he almost tore his father's heart from his chest, to mirror
his own. And when Akane had almost… he could have killed them all!
   
;_; ^_^ ;_; ^_^ ;_;

	"Look Mousse, I don't know what's goin' on, but if you're in some kinda
trouble, let me help. We haven't always gotten along but that don't mean
I'm not there for you."

	Mousse slowly stood up, his eyes turning to the setting sun. "Tha-thank
you, Ranma, but I don't think you can help." His mournful face took on a
sly grin. "Besides, I wouldn't trust you if my life depended on it." He
turned around and began to leap away.

	Ranma caught him by the arm. "You gonna be okay man?"

	"I don't know." whispered Mousse, his face turned away, his voice
unreadable. Then he was gone, and Ranma was holding on to thin air.

	"Damn…" cursed the young martial artist as he made his way back to the
Tendo's.


	When Mousse arrived home, Cologne was waiting for him. "Enjoy your
night out?" she teased. She knew the boy had been fighting with Ranma
again, and for all Mousse's skill, he'd never beat son-in-law.

	"What? Oh, yes elder."  

	Cologne was shocked, he rarely used her proper title. Still, the boy
was not her only problem and she did have a business to run. "Humph,
well get some sleep, you've got a long day ahead of you tomorrow."

	Mousse simply nodded and went upstairs. Half way up, he walked into
something very soft and yet very firm. "Stupid Mousse, no watch where he
going." The purple haired Amazon fumed.

	"Sorry Shampoo," was all he said as he slowly continued up the stairs.

	Shampoo just stood there in shock. No whining or glomping, just a
strange far away look in his beautiful eyes. She quickly shook the
thought out of her head, the boy was not her problem and she did have a
future husband to run down…and over.

	Mousse got to his bed and collapsed on his futon. The day had drained
him, emotionally and physically. At least he could find peace in his
dreams, they had long become his only solace. But another part of him
had plans for tonight's sleep, and peace had no part of it. 

	Dreams can be wonderful things, our lives played out before our eyes,
intertwined with a thousand different fantasies and hopes. For the most
part, it's a bueatifull play performed by none other then ourselves. We
dance about in a myriad of masks and play every role, from monster to
hero. But some memories have no place in dreams. Their too powerful,
their influence twisting the stage to suit it's own needs. With memories
such as these as co-stars, we are allowed only one mask. A mask of pain.

;_; ^_^ ;_; ^_^ ;_;

To be continued...I think...YES, definately...hmmmmmm...or maybe not...