Preamble.
For those of you who didn't happen to check my website, where
this chapter emerged a few days ago - here is the FFML version.
Incidentally, it is recommended by the author (ie. me) that you take a
moment to download the small font file accessible on my main page. That
will provide all the fonts used in my work so far.



However, hope you enjoy Chapter 3 of






Way of the Ninjitsu.


A Fanfiction by Jason Wong.
Inspired by Ruminko Takahashi's Ranma
1/2.





Chapter 3. Cleansing the Nekoken.


It was an unusually terrified Saotome patriarch that stumbled his way to his
encampment in a clearing near Hashima. He had understood little of what
the fierce Shinkasa master had said, but the tone of voice and the general
connotations were more than enough to see him well upon his way. There
were many skills in life that Genma Saotome was more than a little
deficient at, but the ability to preserve his own skin was not one of them.
With a concentration that would have astounded his estranged son, he
tried his best to analyse the situation from abroad. He had no money (that
was not unusual though no less inconvenient); he was too well known by the
locals to be able to steal and con his way through with impunity; and
without
his son, the Anything Goes 'sensei' really had no reason to be wandering
around Japan any longer.

In order to rectify that last point, Genma had been returning continually to
Hashima town for the past 8 months or so, leaving swiftly when trouble
caught up with him, and returning just as rapidly once things had 'cooled
down' a little. Always there had been the hope that he might find the chance
to nab his son and heir, if the boy happened to wander about the nearby
townships. But the months of impatient waiting had revealed that Ranma
'never' left the Clan compound, and was presumably under constant watch
from one or more of the ninja guards (Genma could only assume this since
he never actually saw any guardians - which was proper). Unbeknownst to
his father, the ninja trainee had in fact ventured into the open on several
occasions, as part of his training in stealth and 'shadow hopping'. Kagora
had carefully routed his student's training courses in and around the town
to
keep the child away from his father's chosen sleeping places.

However, it now fell to the said father to decide just where the future lay.
After the ninja master's outburst, the chances of even physically seeing his
son had virtually vanished. Without Ranma as well, Genma had discovered
even more difficulties in surviving on the road. No resident dojo masters
would take him in - for to their eyes a young boy eager to learn their arts
was a far more attractive incentive than a wandering Anything Goes
freeloader. As well it became that much harder to bargain off his child in
exchange for supplies, without anymore evidence than a few faded
photographs of the pigtailed boy.

The total combinations of Genma's woes had instilled within him a fierce
desire to just retire in a warm home for a long while to rest and
recuperate.
He was thoroughly fed up with the constantly frustrated attempts to 'rescue'
the boy - the foolish child could damn well get himself out of his fix this
time;
Ranma being his heir and son notwithstanding, the boy was a severely
painful headache to have to look after. However it was not so simple to just
pack up and leave. He could leave alright (Genma was very good at
leaving), but to go where? Certainly not his own home in Juuban - at least
not yet, while he still valued his head in its current position. So who else
would understand and heed his plight with sympathy?

Of course there was really only one answer, as it had always been in the
past. In the distant days of his own training (the man shuddered at those
memories), throughout all the hell he had endured under the Master,
Genma had always been able to seek solace in his only friend and
companion, Tendo Soun. Yes good ol' Tendo would understand his friend's
trouble. As an added bonus, Soun would personally take to heart his
friend's valiant attempts to rescue that fool of a boy - after all Soun
needed
Genma's son to fulfill that sacred pact they had made so long ago. Master
Happousai himself had advocated their honourable vow, and Soun was
just as determined to see that agreement fulfilled to the utmost. Last time
Genma had contacted his comrade, Soun had been the proud father of no
less than three beautiful daughters - a fine selection for Ranma, and more
than the boy was likely to ever achieve on his own. Such a fine prospect it
would have been, and then the God's foul luck had chosen to ruin it by
stealing away the Anything Goes heir, and dishonourably placing him into
another Clan, and a rogue one at that.

Still it was to Soun's abode that was Genma's next destination. Who knew,
perhaps old Tendo might have a few ideas on how they might snatch back
their wayward heir. In the meantime Ranma, at least by the ninja's
assurances (which were however, dubious at best) was unharmed and well
- he would come out to find his own father when he was damn well good
and ready. Genma had had enough of waiting for the foolish.

Now, how long was that swim across to Honshu Island again?



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


# Two weeks later.... #


It was approaching ten o'clock, and the border guards were being replaced
by the new shift, having stayed vigilantly in their hiding posts since
sunset.
Aside from these nightwatchers, most of the Clan members were in
slumber, building the energy for the rigours of the new day.

However, not all. In a small meditation glade bordering Meyah's quarters, a
young martial artist/ninja was practicing very vigorously with both bokken
and bare fists, working deep into the night and only halting to rest when he
was internally satisfied with the standard of the katas and forms learned
that day. This had been the nightly ritual ever since Ranma had finally
adopted weapons into his fighting style, and his sensei/mother had offered
no complaint otherwise. For the first few days after he had begun, she had
kept silent vigil, closely watching for any signs of a possible repeat
performance of the awesome neko manifestations in her child's first
nocturnal sessions. Convinced after a while that the occurrence was purely
one-off, Meyah had returned herself to the nightly ritual of sleep, though
keeping a wary eye for any disturbances. Counting on the amount of noise
he usually made in his training (miniscule though it was), she subsequently
attuned her natural senses for silence. Reversion into the Neko semi-state
would be presumably marked by a sudden drop in sound levels. This was
perhaps the first time in her life that Meyah was comforted by noise. And
so the pigtailed ninja continued his katas in the solace of darkness and
solitude.

Tonight however, Ranma was not alone in his practice. Indeed, there were
two figures silently appraising his skills, from a respectful distance. It
had
been discovered around a month back that these two were the only Clan
members who could still watch the eight year old without being detected.
This was perhaps what disturbed the other masters the most - that a boy of
so tender an age had proximity senses which were only surpassed in
sensitivity by the ninja master Kagora, and his daughter. How much of this
was due to natural gift, as opposed to a certain Neko technique was the
topic of debate in the council hall this very night.

Nodding his satisfaction at having observed enough of the child, Kagora
silently gestured his daughter to return to the council. Duplicating her
wafting slide, they both swiftly padded back toward the great hall in
silence.


***********


Within the Great hall, the atmosphere was decidedly tense.

"Confound this infernal waiting," muttered a disgruntled Weapons Master
Kinaro, breaking the silence.

The lady opposite his seat - Spymaster Suzaharo Misho commented
bemusedly, "You were never the one for patience, eh Miumasarano?"

Master Kinaro hated his surname, and everyone, including his students
knew it. Even he had trouble saying the lengthy mouthful on occasion.
However, there were much more important matters than petty jibes to
attend to. He briefly scanned the hall room - fourteen masters were
present, including himself, and the number would soon rise to sixteen once
Masters Kagora and Meyah returned from their vigil.

The entire Shinkasa Clan master population. Even that grizzled old lore
master Hikarnu Rishoto had been moved enough by their latest topic to
vacate his personal sanctuary - the Shinkasa library. And rightly so, for
the
subject of one Saotome Ranma was a matter for the whole council, as it
always was with Nekoken victims. *But Kagora and his daughter aren't
making the situation any easier by delaying us so.*

It had been nearly two hours so far, and the various masters were coping in
their own way. Most like Misho, Rishoto, and the ninja master Shinkasa
Maya were patiently reclining in their chairs, or at least outwardly
appearing patient. Guardmaster Hitoshi was pacing slowly across the
length of the room. And of course, personalities such as himself were
seething in silence.

Rishoto's watch clicked, signifying ten o'clock. Two hours, and still no
ninja
and sword master. Kinaro's added irritation was short lived as the pair
finally quietly slipped into the council.

"Well?" master Hitoshi commented directly, "What is the state of the boy?"

Kagora sighed mildly before giving his pronouncement, "I'd hate to admit it,
but young Ranma's case is proceeding far more rapidly than our past
experience has foretold. You already know of Master Meyah's depiction of
the child's combat session some two weeks ago. Added to that his
inhuman maturing of the senses, and Ranma's enhanced speed, and it is
easy to surmise that the boy hasn't long to go. Personally, I would give him
perhaps another month - and that's a very rough estimate - before we are
unable to cure him of the phobia."

"A month? With the Nekoken as unreliable as it is young Saotome might
enter full reversion within the week." added another master.

Rishoto chose that moment to enter the exchange. "Then our decision is
already made. Ranma will have to begin the cleansing process as soon as
possible. Tomorrow even...."

Meyah interrupted desperately, "No! We cannot yet - my so....m-my charge
is nowhere near emotionally capable of handling the stress of the
cleansing. He has many debilitating doubts of his own worthiness, his
honour. To force him to cower shrieking in a corner will surely destroy
him."

"Do not let your love for your *son*," master Maya emphasised the word
indicating her approval, "blind you to the greater good. He cannot be
allowed to wander society with a permanently irreversible phobia of cats, it
would be just begging the Nekoken to manifest itself. Ranma would have to
be forever isolated in one of our sanctuaries, both for his own safety and
the safety of those around him."

"I agree with my cousin," Kagora interceded gently to his daughter, "no
matter how you may feel for Ranma, you cannot argue with reality. It is the
lesser evil to torment the boy for a few weeks than to curse him forever."
The old master hesitated, in reflection, "I can attest to that."

Misho added, "Kinaro and I already contacted the needed Buddhist mages
four days ago. They will be ready to proceed by tomorrow morning."

Meyah's eyes narrowed slightly - that the spymaster had already presumed
to summon the mages even before the council had been called indicated
that despite the formalities, the decision was foregone - as was most likely
planned. Like it or not, and she didn't like it, her son would begin the
cleansing ritual as of tomorrow.

Rishoto announced formally, "As Lore master of Clan Shinkasa I hereby
call my fellow masters to decree. In affirmation that Ninjitsu trainee
Saotome Ranma, victim of the Nekoken, shall begin the cleansing as of
tomorrow raise your right hands."

As one fifteen hands arose, followed reluctantly by the last.
"Any in negation of this proposition?"

Of course, there were none, and so the Lore master ended the brief
ceremony. "Let it be known hereto forthwith that the proposition shall be
carried out to its fullest, as declared unanimously by the masters of
Shinkasa, with no abstentions. Let us rest our councils and depart for the
new day." So saying, Rishoto wearily arose from his seat, the movement
rapidly echoed by the others as they retired to their respective quarters.

"All a farce." Meyah quietly whispered, too softly for anyone to hear,
before
she too glided out of the room toward her own rooms. By now, Ranma
should have mastered his katas and be sleeping.

Kagora silently watched his daughter depart before calling to her.
"Daughter, stay a moment."

"Yes father?" she turned silently, already suspecting what he wished to
discuss.

"You know this is ultimately the best for Ranma's future." It wasn't a
question.

Meyah sighed, "Yes father, I know that. I just wish I did not know what the
cleansing will entail for Ranma." Her voice broke. "He..h-he's my child,
blood ties or no, and I cannot bear the thought of him enduring that much."
Almost invisibly a tear trickled its way down her cheek.

In a rare show of compassion, Kagora took his daughter into a warm
comforting embrace. "Do not fret so, my child. Ranma is a strong boy.
Stronger than any of us at his age. He will recover, given time and love."

"So young, it is wrong for one such as him to be punished so."

"Damnably unfair, but such is life," Kagora whispered. *I will not let it
happen - whatever the cost.*

Meyah was not alone in the world as she cursed, "Damn you, Saotome
Genma."

"Come now. Daughter, we must retire to bed. Tomorrow will be a heavy
day for all."

They parted, but before Kagora had turned, she desperately pleaded to
him. "Father, please treat Ranma gently. A strong child he may be, but the
wrong push can break him so very easily."

Kagora straightened. "I hereby swear that Saotome Ranma will endure the
cleansing and be cured without harm." Softening his voice he murmured,
"Now, Meyah you'd best sleep now. Ranma will need you tomorrow."

"Thank you father." Meyah gratefully headed towards her quarters.

Kagora stayed on for a few minutes longer before retiring. He only wished
he could have guaranteed his oath.


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


Meyah stole quietly into her son's room, lovingly gazing upon him as he
slumbered. A quick kiss to the forehead, and she was gliding towards her
own room. Master Kagora was correct after all - the swordmaster needed
her rest.


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


Genma managed to arrive, more or less unscathed in the old suburb of
Nerima in good time, at least considering that he had either walked or
swum the entire journey. Now all that remained was to find his old friend's
abode. Hopefully there would be a good wholesome lunch steaming this
very moment - the Saotome patriarch remembered Tendo Kimiko's
cooking with fondness.

Of course he was yet to locate the Tendo residence, as it had been many
years since Genma had been by here. Pulling out a roughly noted address
from his gi, Genma casually pushed his wiry spectacles up to the bridge of
his nose. Soun's house was apparently a block further down. Hoisting his
backpack higher on his shoulder, the weary wanderer trudged onwards.

#Tendo Dojo#

The kanji inscribed across the gable of the entryway confirmed that old
Tendo hadn't moved during Genma's absence. As always, the largish red
tiled roof and wooden fa�ade which marked the old two storey construction
(unusually large for modern day Japan) was a cheery welcome to a tired
traveler. Pushing the waist high gate to the side, Genma Saotome ambled
through the somewhat overgrown front yard and knocked firmly on the
Tendos' front door.

"Yes? How may I help you?" Accompanied with the cheery greeting was a
radiant smile. The person who answered was totally unexpected. It was a
very young girl, no older than ten or eleven by his estimate. Expecting
Kimiko, or perhaps Soun himself, Genma was temporarily caught off
guard, and stood mute.

The girl examined him with tired eyes that were years older than her child's
face. "I'm sorry, but could you tell me who you are sir? I have to get back
soon or lunch will burn."

"Uh, uh...p-pardon me but who are you? I was expecting maybe Tendo
Soun or his wife, Kimiko." Genma hastily stammered.

Her beatific smile suddenly faltered a little, and suddenly she appeared
even more uncomfortable than her anonymous guest. Stepping back from
the door, she gestured for the man to enter. "I'm Tendo Kasumi, fathe...
ah that is Soun's daughter. Won't you please come in Mr...?" She left her
sentence trailing.

"Saotome. Saotome Genma that is. I'm an old friend of your father's." *So
this is Soun's daughter - I wonder if she's the eldest or otherwise.* He
thankfully stepped into the warmer house, "So where is your father? I
wanted to surprise him with my arrival." Genma wasn't a very perceptive
man (even he secretly accepted it), but it was clear that something was a
little off colour in this scene. He had expected one of the parents to have
arrived by now, and what was Kimiko doing letting her daughter prepare
lunch for the family? Some early cooking lessons maybe?

Quietly, Kasumi answered. "Father is upstairs in his room, first door to the
left. I'm afraid you will have to let yourself in. H-he never really leaves
his
bedroom that often, at least not since....." She trailed off again, and
hastily cut the conversation short with a quick apology and a short dash to
her kitchen. Now out of sight of the strange man, the young girl hastily
wiped at glistening eyes, and afixed a fresh smile before turning once
again to the array of pots simmering upon the stove.

Frowning slightly, Genma abandoned any further attempt to extract more
information and followed the girl's directions to proceed to old Tendo's
room. It was closed, but he ignored the courtesy of knocking and instead
walked straight in - to find a crumpled heap of a man sitting wretchedly
upon a study desk. What shocked the martial artist were the blood shot red
rimmed eyes which gradually widened in recognition - eyes that spoke of
long hours of weeping combined with restless sleep. In a voice barely
coherent in its whispering gasp, the broken man cried, "Saotome, i-is it
really you?"

Before the overwhelmed visitor could respond he was rapidly seized in a
bone crushing embrace, letting out a most undignified whoosh as the
breath was knocked from his chest. Soun only continued to weep whilst
desperately clinging to his longtime friend like a drowning man. Hesitantly,
Genma returned the embrace, affectionately slapping his companion on
the back. "Come now Tendo, whatever it is, it couldn't be that bad. Pull
yourself together old friend."

Soun was unresponsive to his friend's words, and so Genma was left to
continue awkwardly holding his comrade. This was a most unexpected
welcome.


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


The Sun was as always ready to greet the early risers in Yamakoro
Mountain. So too did it usually greet an awakening Ranma, where the
window of his room faced full east. Today however, the rising beams were
blocked by a figure - that of his mother as she quietly watched him.
Reaching out, she gently shook her slumbering child.

Ranma awoke blearily, with a half murmured, "Wha-, hey Mu-, a..Sensei,
watcha doin' here?"

"Doing, Ranma," she quietly corrected. "Today you won't be having any
lessons or training. Go to Master Kagora's dojo forthwith."

"What about breakfast?" he inquired as the young boy's stomach reminded
him.

"It's better that you do not eat anything for what comes next."

Confused, Ranma nonetheless followed his mother toward the training
centre he had grown so accustomed to. The only time mother reduced or
cut his meals was before an official duel or trial in front of the masters.
Acting on that thought he queried again, "Master, am I going to be
challenged at a duel?"

"A challenge it will be, but not for combat," she answered sadly.

Despite being a little perplexed at the cryptic response, he still noted her
tone. "Master, is something wrong?"

"You will find out when we get there."

Giving up, the boy quickened his flowing pace. The less time they took to
arrive at the dojo, the quicker this mystery would be revealed.


***********


Thousands of miles away, on another continent, a matriarch was gazing at
a sealed envelope held in her hands. To call her extremely aged was a
mild understatement, but her eyes, brightened by a lifetime of mountain
atmosphere, were as alert as always, betraying absolutely no sign of the
senility which had claimed others literally centuries younger than herself.
That the letter she held in her hands had even reached the ancient village,
secluded and hidden within the peaks of the Bayankala Mountain Range,
already severely limited the possible candidates who could have sent it.
There was no return address.

Without wasting time with a scrying spell, she tore open the envelope, and
pulled out its contents - another envelope. The opening was sealed as
before, but this time with jet black wax, with a chop of a coiling dragon
around a tiger's face embossed on its surface. The entire package tingled
subversively to her aged hands with chi energy. It was a spell designed to
allow only the chosen reader to view the letter - primitive to be sure, but
then there weren't that many people in this world who could have performed
such a technique in any case.

"Ah Shinkasa Kagora," she almost cackled, "it has been a very long time
indeed." She broke the seal without any hesitation, and perused the letter
contained within. As she read, faint lines of tension began to pull at the
wrinkles of her eyes.


#     #     #     #

To the honoured elder Khu Lon of the village of Joketsuzoku,


We of the Shinkasa Clan have found another Nekoken victim.
His name is Saotome Ranma, currently eight years of age, and
he has been under our care for some nine months. Assuming
this letter reaches you promptly we will have started the
cleansing process within the week. As always with this ritual, I
am requesting your personal aid, as well as your fellow elders,
if anything should fall amiss. If another letter should arrive
with the seal of Shinkasa in blood red, you will know that
Ranma will have escaped, and that we humbly beg for your
assistance in his capture.

What may concern you personally however is that Ranma, the
son of Saotome Genma - a pupil of one Grandmaster
Happousai, is the heir to the Mutsabeto Kakuto Ryu. He shows
the greatest potential that I have not seen before for ages, and
the boy has willingly agreed to take on the art of Ninjitsu. As
such he is now my heir, and stands to surpass me in time,
especially if he attains full control of the Nekoken. Happousai
of course will most likely object to all of this, should that
master learn of the situation - but thankfully (or perhaps
worryingly) none of our contacts have seen or heard of him for
a very long while. In any case, you will see Ranma for yourself
in a few years time, when we bring him to Jusenkyo for the
initialisation. I hope he may in addition find tutelage in your
own Amazon arts whilst we are staying there.

My best wishes for your continued good health,
Master Shinkasa Kagora.

#     #     #     #


"Hmmm," the ancient crone mused to herself. *A very interesting new
member you've nabbed into your clan Kagora.* The old ninjitsu master was
one of the few people (and a man to boot) whose judgement she trusted
completely - perhaps even more than some of the other Joketsuzoku
matriarchs. If Kagora had such high praise for so young a child, this
Saotome Ranma might provide a most 'interesting' addition to the strength
of her family. After all, her great great grand daughter (that was the
irritating
thing about being so old - family references became that much longer with
each generation), and Khu Lon's own heir, young Xian Pu was Ranma's
age. "Hmmmmm", she continued to muse. *Saotome Ranma is a name I would
do well to remember.*

Of course there was that other issue - that of Happousai. Khu Lon was not
one to hold petty grudges (at least not for the past 250 years or so), so
the
fact that up till now she still bore one of these against the equally
ancient
lecher was great cause for concern. She knew however that it was a petty
jibe to meddle with his supposed heir, but if Kagora and the Shinkasa
needed her assistance in warding off the Anything Goes founder, then they
would most certainly have it. Anything that bothered that old thief was
certainly worth investing in anyway.

Still all this was based on the fact that the young Ranma would survive the
next few weeks. *For your own sake,* she thought, *I'll pray that you are
strong enough.*


**********


Ranma knew immediately that something 'big' was up, when he stepped
into Master Kagora's dojo. If it wasn't for the fact that all furniture had
been
cleared from the room, save for the tatami mats which covered the vast
floorspace, the presence of some twelve masters all wearing their gold
bandannas of office would have been indication enough. Some of them he
knew by name only, whilst others, like weapons Master Kinaro were often
daily tutors. However all were universal in their stoic demeanour as they
stood in a rough half-circle around the dojo entrance. Almost ambiently he
noted that his own Master Kagora was amongst them. Meyah remained by
her child's side.

There was a tense moment of silence before Kagora stepped forward to
explain the situation. "Ranma, when you first came here, more than eight
months ago, Master Meyah and I revealed to you something of a technique
which your father forced upon you, and that it was an important reason as
to why you have remained here with us."

The boy nodded dubiously. It was well known amongst the Clan that he
'knew' the Nekoken, and despite the noticeable absence of any living feline
forms, it was one of the reasons why some of the other trainees tended to
surreptitiously avoid him.

Kagora continued, "Tell us what you have been told of the Catfist."

"Well," the pigtailed boy began, reaching to scratch behind his head, "the
Nekoken is an ancient martial arts technique devised in China, and is one
of the most formidable offensive attacks in the artist's array. It is only
usable when the practitioner has attained a particular state of mind - that
in
imitation of a cat. To be brought into such a state, he must have been
induced by the presence of a feline form into an extremely distressed state
- an intense phobic reaction which will eventually lead to the Neko mind
state and the Nekoken. The technique itself employs chi energy to
generate long invisible cutting blad...."

"That would be enough thank you, Ranma," Kagora gently interrupted,
smiling slightly at his kohai's textbook recital (actually he was reciting
from
old Loremaster Rishoto, which was virtually the same thing). The eight year
old probably wasn't even entirely sure what all the words in his speech
meant. "However there are some facts which have never been told to you,
some which will change your knowledge of the catfist - and it is now time
for them to be revealed. You probably noticed that your fellow trainees are
somewhat nervous of Nekoken victims, and perhaps with good reason - for
not only is it a most powerful technique, but a very dangerous and
unpredictable one. Out of all of us, Master Rishoto probably is the most
knowledgeable on this." So saying he gestured to the wizened elderly
master to follow on.

Clearing his throat, Rishoto began. "Yes, well Ranma, you must realise that
the psycho-kinetic embodiment of a feline does not perceive an accurate
conception of human ethical constraints...."

"Rishoto," Shinkasa Maya broke in, "try to talk in Japanese if that's
possible." With a tilt of her head she indicated a thoroughly perplexed
Ranma.

"Ahem, my apologies...that is, Ranma, a Nekoken victim in his 'cat' mode"
(he grimaced distastefully at the unscientific terminology), "acts and
thinks
like a cat, and not a human.. but this 'cat' is special because it possesses
a pair of 2 foot long claws which can cut through virtually anything except
chi barriers." He paused for effect. "So Ranma, tell us what usually
happens when you start harassing a very large cat?"

The boy shifted uncomfortably - he didn't enjoy thinking about anything
remotely resembling that particular animal. "Well, I guess it would try to
scratch you or someth...." he fell to a jarred halt as realisation dawned.
"Y-
you don't mean that I would...I would.." he blurted but was cut off.

"Try to imagine an angry cat with claws that could powder rock."

Ranma did just that and promptly looked sick.

"Yes," Kagora dryly stated, "it would be something like that." Turning more
serious he knelt down so that he was eye to eye with the child. "Ranma, for
your own safety, and the safety of others around you, we have to cure this
curse. Otherwise it would be too dangerous to risk you encountering even
a house cat in society. Are you willing to try?"

There was a short consideration time. "Yes sensei, I'm not gonna be
scared of no c-cat."

Kagora resisted the instinctive reflex to correct the language. "Ranma it is
not nearly as easy as you think. Indeed it will be a terribly painful
experience for you - more than most people even here will ever
experience." The ninja master's eyes seem to bore into the little boy, with
their intense solemnity.

There was only a slightly longer delay. "No I wanna do it."

"Very well, then what must be done first is to let the priests assess you."

Ranma's eyes scanned the people briefly. There weren't any priests here, a
fact which was quickly corrected as a cadr� of robed men stepped in.
Their clothing marked them for two religions, three from Shinkasa's temple
in Shinto's white and another three wearing the saffron orange of the
Buddhist. By way of explanation, Spymaster Misho introduced them. "The
buddhist monks are from China, and have come here specifically for you,
as have our own Shinto priests. We will need to induce the Nekoken just
once for them to see."

When the trainee failed to respond, she reiterated, "Ranma, we're going to
have to scare you with a cat until you turn into one."

"Oh, okay then." He wasn't quite sure exactly how he was supposed to
react to that statement.

Meyah gently guided the somewhat confused boy to the centre of the dojo.

"Ranma, there is no shame whatsoever in being unable to contain your
fear. Do not try to fight the fear, or it will only damage you. Are you
alright?"

"Yeah Sensei, let's just get it over with." Unconsciously, the pigtailed boy
drew himself up to full height, and steeled his jaw. Instinctively, Ranma
realised that what would follow would be purely terrifying, but at the same
time the rational portion of the eight year old also knew that it was a fear
based on a curse, and nothing more.

Despite his readiness, the young child was still not prepared for when
another master entered the dojo. In his arms was a......

"CAAATTTT!!" he shrieked, eyes widening to expose the whites. All at
once there were thousands of eyes, razor sharp claws reaching out to
snatch at the fabric of his mind. The beast's eyes seemed to bore through
his very soul, ruthlessly slicing apart his feeble defenses.

The ear splitting scream continued unabated, defying the boy's need to
breathe for air. Meyah stood rooted in shock, eyes dampening as she
helplessly viewed her son suffering in continuous torment. For Ranma, it
was only that same scream which kept him alive, what kept him sane - he
couldn't think, couldn't hear, it was all eyes and claws to his rapidly
fracturing psyche. As the grey house cat opened its tiny mouth to yawn
sleepily, Ranma was consumed with a myriad of teeth - the sharp razor
knives of a carnivore, a hunter, a beast whose mission in life was to kill
and
to eat what it had murdered. And those same teeth threatened to rip the
cowering boy, unless he could get away. *Get away?*

The hysterical child savagely tore himself out of his immobile state, frozen
by the terror, and leapt away - combat skills unthinkingly angling himself
toward the one constant source of comfort and love. Mother.

Meyah caught the cringing child in her arms, but held him for but an
instant.
Tearfully, she wrenched herself out of his grip, and shoved her son roughly
back into the path of the feline. It was then that Ranma realised, through
the
intoxicating wave of fear, with icy cold clarity why the masters were
standing in a wide circle around him. They would never let him go, forever
hold him in sway of that...that....thing.

With slow deliberate steps, guard Master Hitoshi advanced upon the
screaming eight year old, holding the house cat before him like an effigy.
The fear that had possessed Ranma up till now was eclipsed by a terror so
pure that its very existence was a fear unto itself. It became a tumultuous
ache - a pressure on the brain that threatened to burst him from within.

All at once his conscience opened before the boy a possible escape,
where he could flee in safety - an inky blackness, like a smothering
blanket,
it rose up to him and yawned invitingly. In it Ranma saw his salvation, a
way
to be taken, an isolation from the numbing hysteria of fear. Weeping with
relief, he fled into the blackness and was consumed.

"Meeeooowwrrr", the quivering boy abruptly moaned, falling onto his arms
and legs as if born to walk the world on fours. In truth, at that particular
moment, he was. Eyes devoid of the former shine of humanity now stared
predatorily around at the surrounding throng of tense ninjas. Behind, the
priests viewed the entire spectacle in silence, save for one who was quietly
chanting with eyes closed.

Meyah breathed a sigh in relief. That never ending shriek had finally
ceased to torment her ears. At a nod of affirmation from her father she
stealthily knelt and edged towards her child. The alien gaze that
speculatively analysed her was enough to stop Meyah's approach, but the
hard dispassionate hunter's stare immediately softened into a more
amicable welcome. A questioning trill rumbled from the catboy's belly, as
he craned his neck inquisitively to sniff Meyah's outstretched hand.

For Kagora, and virtually all the other masters there was an almost audible
dissipation of tension. It was at this point that they considered their
charge
to be at his most dangerous, where the cat was still recovering from the
bout of terror its 'human' side had just experienced, - and thus this turn
of
events was most unexpected. Kinaro almost snorted in suppressed
laughter, the offset of tautness to his senses a welcome, almost giddy
relief, "Why Master Meyah, I think he likes you."

She raised her head to afix a stony gaze, eyes shining with unshed tears -
a look which immediately froze any concept of mirth. "Thank the Kami for
small mercies, that my son still trusts me after what I did to him."

There was an uncomfortably strained silence as Meyah returned to stroking
the pigtailed boy's head, to which he responded happily.

"Meyah, break him out of it now."

She nodded once. "Yes Master Kagora." And as she had done so all those
months ago, Meyah once again focused her chi energy, silently channeling
it into the fingers nestled in her child's hair. The hand glowed a luminous
blue before Ranma's cat's eyes glazed over, and closed. Weakly, he
slumped into her hold. With her task completed, she turned to her sensei
and father, seeking to satisfy a nagging question, "Master Kagora, what
would you have done had Ranma refused to undertake the cleansing?" Her
voice was deceptively mild.

"I know enough of Ranma's nature that he would never have refused."

"But what if..."

The weary ninja master broke in firmly, "Ranma was NEVER going to
refuse." Lightening his tone, Kagora moved to another topic. "You cannot
imagine the benefit your innate healing skills provide to us," he spoke
softly
as he laid a warm hand upon his daughter's shoulder. Continuing at her
inquisitive gaze, the master added, "There are relatively few known
methods to stop a possessed Nekoken victim, short of murder. That he
even recognises you when in its grip is a thankful bonus and a credit to the
strength of his human spirit. Conventionally during the cleansing, the
victim
had to be doused with water, or secured until the catfist wore itself out."

Grimly, Hitoshi continued, "and it is no easy task to splash an unwilling
beast which moves faster than the eye can track. Or for that matter to keep
a pair of lethal slicing claws at bay for half-an-hour or so."

For the first time, one of the priests - the Buddhist who had been
murmuring during the transformation - spoke up. "You should not have left it
for so late. The curse is already firmly established into the fabric of his
being - it would have been only a matter of days before he would have
been incurable."

"But we can still cure him?" Kagora prompted.

"It will be a difficult trial, both for the boy and for all of us, but yes
we can
cure him." the Buddhist hesitated a little, "However, total elimination of
the
neko persona will be unlikely. From my examination of his mind, I would
assume that preceding today, Saotome Ranma perhaps manifested some
cat behaviour?"

"Not so much that you would notice," Meyah commented from her kneeling
position upon the tatami mats, "very minor and sporadic signs - his unusual
speed, sensitive sight and hearing."

"No, no I speak of behaviour, not physical attributes. Enhanced senses and
physical capability is not an unusual occurrence." There was the barest of a
surreptitious glance towards Meyah's father, who acknowledged it with an
equally hidden nod towards the priest.

Unnoticing, Meyah frowned in thought, her hands still comforting the
slumbering boy. "No, I cannot say that I noticed anything untoward in his
personality."

Rishoto smirked good-naturedly, "That my dear Meyah is because the
feature in Ranma's personality which marks him out from the rest is the
same quirk which is to be found in virtually all of you - the aura of
danger."
He hoped the bantering tone would ease the solemnity of the situation.
Kami knew that they all needed as much relief as possible.

At Kinaro's rude snort of disgust the aged loremaster added, "Though
some hide it better than others."

Interested, Maya queried curiously, "Are you suggesting that I am currently
radiating an aura of danger?"

"Call it whatever you want, but when you are alert and poised for action,
people can inherently feel that you are a very dangerous person. I recall
reading about aura generation some years back - on the theory of psycho
kinetics, energy of the mind converting into..."

"So Ranma has a 'watch out I'm a very dangerous ninja' sign flashing on
his forehead" Kinaro hastily continued, "as we all have when we are
behaving like very dangerous ninjas. So what is so significant about that?"

A little miffed at being interrupted, Rishoto sarcastically commented, "Oh
yes, what is so very significant about a little eight year old child who can
make the locals' hair stand on end? It isn't just because of Ranma's being
the best of his age group that the others tend to avoid him."

Authoritatively Kagora seized control of the conversation. "Fellow masters,
this tirade can serve for some other late night discourse. We are here for a
cleansing, and what concerns us must only pertain to that matter." Turning
around he addressed the priest, "Brother Li Mian, if we are unable to clear
the Nekoken totally from Ranma, in what way will that affect him?"

Noting the unvoiced concern, the priest hastily reassured, "You needn't fear
- provided that we complete the cleansing, Ranma will have full control of
the catfist. It is merely that the ritual will probably require a higher
level of
duration and intensity than usual." 'Usual' was a relative term - the last
cleansing was more than fifty years into the past. He continued, "As well,
after it is all over, it is likely that your boy will show some feline
attributes in
an intense combat situation whether he wishes to or otherwise. Outside of
fighting, other people may find him, just a little strange. To what extent
we
cannot be sure until afterwards."

Kagora queried neutrally, "And is there anything we can do to prevent
this?"

"Not within my experience."

"Very well then, we will do what needs to be done, and hope for the best,
unless there are any other queries?" the ninja master left the question
hanging.

"Yes," Meyah spoke up, "Brother Li Mian, by your estimation how long will
the cleansing take?"

"Ordinarily, maybe four or five days, but for this case," the Buddhist
hesitated reluctantly, "we would be looking at weeks."

"WEEKS?! How can you expect a little bo..."

"Meyah that is enough." Kagora cut in, softly but firmly. "Ranma is a strong
boy - he WILL prevail through this, and our delaying only worsens the
situation." Assuming position as unofficial leader of the council, he began
commandeering the other masters; it was an unvoiced acceptance, as
short of Rishoto, the ninja master bore the longest experience with the
cleansing ritual.

"Hitoshi, I think we can dispose of the cat - it has served its purpose.
Meyah, can you awaken Ranma?" At her affirmation he nodded. "Do so,
and for the rest of us it would be wise to prepare yourselves. No one here
save for Hitoshi, Rishoto and myself have ever witnessed a cleansing
before. Our first priority is to keep Ranma close enough to the priests that
their mental incantations have effect. The cleansing can only take effect
when the subject is at the greatest point of fear - Li Mian and his
brotherhood will ensure that Ranma is prevented from reverting to the
Nekoken state whilst immersed in his terror. In such a traumatised state, he
may easily lash out unthinkingly, and so we must all be on guard to protect
the priests." Throughout his tirade Kagora's voice remained clinically hard
and detached, occasionally looking towards the as of yet mute Shintoists
for any signs of disapproval. There were none. "Oh, and Kinaro, you can
stop the recording now."

Silently, the weapons master drifted over to a darkened corner where a
small video camera had apparently recorded the entire incident. Meyah's
eyes narrowed in obvious disapproval, but she said nothing.

It was at this point that the pigtailed child finally began to stir,
awakened by
Meyah's mental call. Two dominant feelings cut viciously through the haze
of the woozy boy's consciousness - pain and exhaustion. Ranma
involuntarily croaked at the fire burning in the raw fibres of his throat,
an
action which only served to further aggravate the sensitive area.
Wordlessly, he accepted an offered cup of some unidentified sweetish
liquid.

"This will help soothe the pain Ranma," a voice gently whispered, "your
screaming has worn down your vocal cords somewhat."

The disorientated boy lifted his head to the speaker, and quickly
recognised her as, "Mom? w-what happened?" His questioning was
promptly cut off as the overstressed voice box died into incoherent hissing.

"Hush now, no more talking." She paused, "Ranma what you just
experienced is but a fraction of what is to come." Meyah vehemently
wished she could have allowed her son the option of withdrawing from the
ritual, but knew this to be impossible in any case.

The boy seemed to notice his lack of options, but nonetheless shook his
head vigorously in the affirmative. Overlaying the terror which still
reverberated in his eyes was a sheen of stubborn determination - the will to
move on unthinking of the consequences, and it broke Meyah's heart to
watch.

Maya interrupted their comforting embrace. "Ranma, we have to start
now", she said almost regretfully. Before Meyah parted with her son she
deftly placed a palm underneath the boy's chin, cupping his trachea firmly.
A brief murmuring, a flare of blue light, and she had placed a temporary
store of healing energy. "Ranma, the spell will keep you from crying out -
at
least you won't damage your throat any further."

The anxious child smiled weakly, tentatively grateful for small mercies.
Pulling himself out of Meyah's grasp he resolutely stepped into the centre
of the ring formed by the fourteen masters, soon fifteen when the
swordmaster took her place. As a parting gesture, Kagora knelt to the
determined boy. "Ranma, I truly wish this could have been otherwise."
Saying no more, he stepped back and gestured for the priests to begin.
Where previously only one had been incanting, now all six were mouthing
incoherent words, each at a different pace and possibly a different
language - but forming an uncanny synchronisation. Silence reigned the air
as the power began to build.

The young eight year old was himself presented with a contradictory
situation. He knew that very soon he would be scared beyond belief, and
was also faced with the firm knowledge that there was no escaping it. And
yet despite this, Ranma felt strangely detached, where the consciousness
was convinced that logically, there was nothing to fear, that the Nekoken
was merely a curse that held no substance for reality.

And all this was in turn eradicated when without warning, his child's
imagination was flooded by a vibrantly horrifying image. Eyes glazed over,
unseeing of the family and friends around him, he opened his mouth to
scream.

Meyah vigorously maintained the wall which kept the emotions isolated
from the awful sight arrayed in front of all - her own son, head arched back
in a silent shriek, clutching his child's head as if to ward off invaders.
For a
moment she cursed herself for applying that spell - Meyah had thought it
terrible enough to have to experience her child's tormented wail, but this
mute crying was so very much worse.

The boy was too lost in his own nightmare to care. Standing mere inches
away from him was the muzzle of a awesome panther, fur blacker than the
darkness surrounding, eyes glowing like miniature suns - eyes which
burned through his essence. Ranma had no choice but to turn his gaze
aside, lest his soul be cut down like wheat, but it was futile. There before
him was the same magnificent beast, jaw trembling in the suggestion of a
growl. Another turn, and still it was there - always silent always a
panther.
With the cold realisation borne of hopelessness, he discovered that it
would always be there - for how could you run from your own mind?

And then, as before, the inky blackness was opened before the cowering
child - the salvation was welcoming him once more. Desperately he fled
towards it - and was stopped by the looming mask of the panther. It was
like trying to stop a hurricane - all attempts were hopeless. Mindlessly,
Ranma hammered at the essence of his own mind - trying to break down
the barriers which barred him from the darkness.

And outside, in the real world the poised masters saw a hysterical child
writhing madly. Behind the ring of ninjas were the priests - their
omnipotent
presence seemingly unaffected by the scene. Closer inspection revealed
that all of them were already sorely taxed. Lines of perspiration slowly
trickled down Li Mian's jaw, but he was unfeeling of the discomfort. Within,
his mind was working furiously, attempting to break down the blackness of
the Nekoken within the boy's psyche. The catfist only ever manifested itself
during times of intense stress or fear - and the Buddhist had to make good
use of the precious minutes as the Shintos valiantly beat down the violence
of the child's crazed attempts to escape into the dark.

Ranma was battering uselessly at his own mind. The darkness was calling
out to him almost mockingly, taunting him with its promise of blissful
incoherence. And as always, a constant in this torturous world was the
panther growling menacingly, growing ever larger - its eyes threatening to
encompass his essence. It seemed to lean forward - to extend clawed
paws as if to grab at him. Ranma tried to scream but sound was
evasive. Mentally he leapt back beating into the confines which held him.
One of them gave a little.

One of the Shintoists managed a weak cry of warning before he crumpled
to the ground like a rag doll. In that instant the quiet solemnity of the
environment as all tried to distance themselves was slashed into complete
chaos. Before Kagora could even summon the breath for a warning shout,
the focus of their attention was flying in an impossible leap through the
ceiling support beams to land before a tensely ready Kinaro. The only
reason that the weapons master survived to see the next half second was
that his opponent was focused entirely on fleeing and not fighting. Even so,
he received a savage jab to the chin as the possessed child darted past, a
blow which came agonizingly close to breaking the jaw. Now there was
nothing between Ranma and the freedom of the outside. The last rational
drop in the sea of torment that was infesting his brain hoped fervently that
physical distance from this dojo would save him. Maya and Hitoshi, the two
closest to the fallen master were already snapped into activity - garrotes
hurled at the darting form of the boy to ensnare his wildly gyrating limbs.
Abandoning the futile attempt, Maya discarded her rope, and instead
swung her hand forward, fingers cracking the sound barrier to seize the
fleeing child's left foot. With a vicious yank she hurled his light body
over
her head in a ninja's full body throw, stoically ignoring the fist which
slammed into her cheekbone, snapping her head back. Grimly she tackled
the flailing martial artist to the ground, absorbing as many of the strikes
as
she could.

One of Buddhist monks groaned audibly as the increased distance
between his mind and the focus of its attention was increased to breaking
point. As he felt the inevitable signs of the established mental bonds
slipping, a voice barked harshly across the room. "SEIZE HIM!"

As one Kinaro and Hitoshi joined the fighting ninja master and hurled
themselves bodily into the fray. Slipping underneath the group, Maya
bunched the muscles of her thighs and released a double kick to the boy's
abdomen, keeping feet flat to minimize the damage. Weeping at the
denied freedom, Ranma was thrown in a returning arc into the centre of the
circle where the exhausted priests hurriedly restored the barriers. Saving
enough energy for a weak whisper, Li Mian murmured to Kagora, "That was
almost too far."

Kagora nodded grimly, then looked towards the other Buddhists. In a voice
hardened as tempered steel, he commanded, "Increase the pain - that
should be sufficient to keep Ranma still." The priests' hesitation only
served
for a repetition of the order. "Increase the fear NOW!"

Nodding, the Buddhist again closed his eyes, doing as he was bid. An
instant later, the tortured child reeled as if pounded by a physical blow,
and
unthinkingly curled into a fetal ball. The cat had grown to surround him,
and
was immersing deep within his mind, sifting through his brain like a hot
knife in butter. Ranma could do nothing but gibber incoherently as his mind
was slowly broken apart. After only a short moment, the weak boy was
drowned in his own personal oblivion.

The priests continued their terrible work - three holding the barriers, two
holding the fear, and one fighting the Nekoken.

And within that morning the innocence of childhood was crushed.


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


Genma Saotome was at this moment very unsure of himself. He had spent
the entire day in the Tendo residence, eventually meeting the other family
members as they returned from school, and having to repeat his own story
several times - simplified for children to comprehend. In the hours of
listening to his babbling friend, deciphering the words from the weeping he
had come upon terrible news as well. It was impossible to imagine such an
awful tragedy - the sprightly active and ever cheerful woman that was
Tendo Soun's wife was..was.... It was better not to think of it now.
Inevitably Genma's attention wandered over to his own wife - now more than
ever he sorely missed her. The old Saotome would have sacrificed much
for her support and guidance (dealing with this sort of thing had always
been her prerogative), but his life wasn't on that list.

And now what to do? He resisted the instinctive urge to just simply run;
although that remedy had worked remarkably well in the past he couldn't
abandon his friend - not old Soun, not after all they had been through
together.

Fine then, he had to admit that he hated the crying man a little for putting
him in such a difficult position. The family was in tatters, the father
oblivious
to the world, their life savings being slowly but surely sapped away, and
the
children being forced harshly into reality. Eleven year old Kasumi had been
serving as the keystone for the past year, balancing school with the never
ending tasks of the house - cooking, cleaning, caring for a useless father
and her dependent younger sisters. Every day she was up at dawn to
dress and prepare the morning meals, as well as bento lunches for the
girls. Whilst other children her age ate together and played contentedly
during the lunch break she was dashing home to cook lunch for father, eat
her own, and dash back all in the space of half-an-hour or so. School's end
at three o'clock would see her heading toward the market for daily
supplies, then back home for dinner. Mother's personally handwritten
cookbook had become Kasumi's proverbial bible, and it wrenched the
heart to see exact duplications of the meals which Kimiko had prepared
arrayed at the table. With the dinnertime completed, the weary girl would
be left to wash up, clean up and finally be ready for bath and bed. It was a
daily cycle which had been perfected by months of repetition.

But despite her incredible perseverance and inner strength Kasumi was
only too eager to forgo the burdensome responsibility of running the family
to a proper adult. Genma couldn't really resent her for immediately latching
onto his guidance (though he was cursing the God of ill fortune heavily
enough) once it had been established just how the Saotome patriarch was
related to her own father. It was amazing enough that she had taken up the
role of 'mother' at such an inexperienced age, Genma couldn't possibly see
it within the scope of any human being to be holding a house of four whilst
attending final year of preparatory school.

And the fact that there were two other children only made the burden
heavier. Little Akane was only eight (the same age as his own stupid boy
he thought sourly), young enough to be somewhat confused by the entire
situation, but old enough to understand that she would never see her own
mother again. She had thrown herself into the martial arts, practicing what
little Soun had taught her, and almost desperately trying to create new
forms to master. According to Kasumi, at the time of Genma's arrival she
had still been at prep. school - but once home she would straight away be
secluded in the family dojo, only leaving for dinner, bathing and sleeping.
As such this was presumably where the eight year old was currently
located. Genma considered disgustedly that without any motivation
whatsoever, Akane had displayed a greater devotion to the Anything Goes
art than his own son. She didn't even need a teacher to show her the way of
a true martial artist - all this from a girl too. Granted a year of training
without guidance had weakened her form, but Genma was more than
ready to alter that - as was his duty as the Mutsabeto Kakuto sensei. With
Ranma off to his own devices, maybe the Anything Goes teacher could
make up for the absence by training Soun's child instead. And given the
devotion she apparently possessed to Anything Goes, Genma could
envision a time when she reached an heir standard. Then the boy would
really regret abandoning his own father.

Of course, there was the last child, Nabiki, the middle Tendo daughter. She
was neither a martial artist nor a homemaker. Actually Genma wasn't quite
sure what to make of her. With the other children displaying such inner
strength and resourcefulness, he had taken it for granted that Nabiki would
herself have some special talent to throw herself into. But it appeared that
the nine year old had reacted to the family tragedy by withdrawing into
herself. Of the three children, she had regarded this new visitor's arrival
with the most suspicion, and had been loathe to lower her guard.

Kasumi had mentioned that young Nabiki did display a fine head for
numbers, certainly far beyond children her age - but unfortunately Genma
had little appreciation for such talents (he had little appreciation for
anything that didn't relate to food or martial arts). She had taken it upon
herself to manage the family finances, although there wasn't currently much
involved - just a daily subtraction of money from a depleting lump sum. With
old Soun giving up his teaching at the dojo (Soun had given up virtually
everything save for smoking and the basic bodily functions), there was
absolutely no income for which the family could survive on. After finally
accepting Genma's presence, Nabiki had silently handed him a slip of
paper upon which was written a date - some four years and two months
into the future.

Despite his ineptness with financial matters, even Genma had understood
what the date signified. At their current rationed expenditure (Nabiki had
even provided her elder sister with a spending budget), the Tendo savings
would be dry in four years time. Left with the weary Saotome was the
unvoiced expectation that he do something about that.

Genma clutched his head in a vain attempt to destroy the headache that
was hammering at his brain. This was too much to deal with -
responsibilities, duties, work... - too much. It would have been infinitely
better (easier) to have stuck to the road. So much for hot baths and rest.

He annoyedly turned to his friend. Soun had still not left off the wailing
and
weeping since Genma had arrived, and no matter how much the old
Saotome could sympathise with the loss, something had to give. For the
sake of his own family, the Tendo father couldn't be allowed the luxury of
self-pity any longer.

"For heaven's sake Tendo you have to snap yourself out of this! What
would Kimiko say if she saw how weak you were acting while your own
family falls apart around you?"

The grieving husband raised blood red eyes to the man who had dared to
utter his beloved's name. "H-how DARE you!" he almost shrieked, seizing
his old friend by the collar of his white gi and shaking the bald headed
martial artist furiously. "How can you be so cruel to me? My d-dear wife. S-
she's gone I tell you... GONE!!" Soun weakly released his companion.
"Gone forever," he added with a sob.

Genma knew himself well enough to recognise that he was certainly not the
best individual to approach on matters of emotion, so he tried logic. "Soun
my old friend, you can't keep like this - your own daughter has to cook and
clean for you." He tried a harder line, "It's a disgrace to the Tendo line,
that
it's patriarch be so weak in the face of trials. For the sake of your own
children you must be strong."

But Soun was unapproachable. He continued to wail about his loss -
honour be damned he wanted his wife back. Ambiently Genma wondered
if he would behave in such a manner if his own Nodoka were to....*ahh,
best not to think of that.* Frustrated with the lack of headway, Genma
raised his open palm and dealt out a swift backhanded slap.

Stunned, the weeping Tendo raised a shaking hand to his reddening
cheek. Despite his whispering volume, Genma's tone was fierce,
"Continue to cry like a baby if you must Tendo, but like it or not Kimiko is
NOT coming back to you." He ignored the reflexive cringe. "She isn't here
with us any longer, but your own daughters - her daughters - are. Kasumi
herself is many times stronger than you."

Genma stood to leave. He truly hated to be so cruel to his old friend, but
it
was for the best. "Tendo, it has been a year - you keep acting like this and
you disgrace your wife's memory. And the Soun Tendo I know would never
do such a thing." So saying, Genma swiftly left the room, firmly closing the
door behind him.

Soun was left staring horrified at his own hands.

*Disgraced.*


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


Meyah wiped her eyes exhaustedly. Her body was wracked with the strain
of overtaxed nerves and emotions, as well as the several aching bruises
where her own son had inadvertently struck her. Ranma had been
subjected to five hours - five entire hours before Kagora had thankfully
called a halt to the cleansing.

"Ranma gets fifteen minutes - no longer. Then we begin again. See to his
injuries and perhaps feed him if he awakens." Without another word her
father left the dojo. For the first time in her life Meyah truly despised
him -
hated him because of his hardness, hated him because he was merciless,
but most of all she hated Kagora because he was right.

"Oh my son, forgive what must be done to you," she whispered to her
unconscious child. It was unlikely that Ranma might even stir within the
next
fifteen minutes - the cleansing having drained him totally. Resolutely,
Meyah set about tending to her child, siphoning off her own chi to fuel his
own depleted reserves. As well, she did her best to clean him up - the poor
child had unconsciously wet himself in the throes of fear. Hurriedly, his
mother set about changing his soiled kung fu pants.

And in fifteen minutes, the boy was cruelly dragged from his paradise of
the comatose state, and tortured once more.


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


# Five Days. #



Iyarasora Lano fretted anxiously for his friend. Like virtually everyone on
the
compound, not to mention some of the locals as well, he had heard the
anguished screaming which had permeated the ancient walls of the clan
house for several long minutes. That had been five days ago, and the fact
that Ranma had not been seen by anyone, least of all himself since that
event left the young Korean very concerned indeed.

Now, as it had been for a while, life had returned to a semblance of
normalcy. It had been quickly established that for unknown reasons, the
zone surrounding Master Kagora's dojo was strictly off limits to all people
save for the masters, who had been observed occasionally moving to and
fro from the building. The rule notwithstanding Lano had taken his spare
time before and after daily lessons and training to loiter as near to the
dojo
as lawfully possible - without Ranma he had nothing better to do in any
case. Consultation of Master Meyah had resulted in only tight lipped hasty
half-responses designed to sidestep the issue entirely.

Lano wasn't sure whether to be relieved or worried that nothing untoward
had occurred since that day of the tormented shrieking. Indeed if anything
the dojo was unusually silent considering that most of the Clan's highest
ranking members were present at some stage within its walls. Glancing at
his watch, Lano arose from his sitting position near the fountain to leave
for
today's weapon's session. He still learned much from the training, but it
wasn't the same without somebody to spar with - even if that somebody
continually beat him. Now, without the great Ranma Saotome to grace their
presence Lano had assumed the temporary position of best in the year
group.

No, without good ol' Ranma, things definitely weren't the same. Lano
reluctantly turned to leave.


***********


That same night, Meyah was silently turning her futon over before rest,
trying to ignore the gnawing absence of a certain pigtailed boy performing
his nightly practices of the katas learned that day. Ranma now 'slept', for
want of a better term in the dojo - though it was a poor comparison. Since
the first day, he had turned into a virtual zombie, as unresponsive in
awakened state as he was when comatose. The fear was still there, always
present in his eyes, but the broken child had apparently lost the will to
fight
it - lost the will to do anything other than hide from the awful reality.
Meyah
had even needed to close his eyes with her fingers to prevent them from
drying out - her child never so much as blinked to indicate signs of life.

Thankfully, the boy still appeared to have automated responses to offered
food and drink, saving his guardians the pitiful task of pre-mashing his
meals. Meyah had done all she could with her healing powers to restore
the physical signs of the mental draining, but to heal the boy within was
outside her scope. Rishoto had assured her that what little good effect she
appeared to have on Ranma was infinitely more than any previous
Nekoken victims had enjoyed - and thus his chances of survival were that
much higher.

"You seem preoccupied tonight."

As always she did not need to turn to identify the speaker who had entered
her room undetected. With a tinge of bitterness, she responded, "More so
than usual?" Softening her tone she continued, "I am just contemplating if
all this is truly worth it."

"What? To give Ranma the freedom to roam about society as he pleases?
It is a worthy reward for the price he pays now."

"A price so heavy that he may never live to enjoy its reward." she
countered.

Kagora sighed heavily, "Yes, there is that."

Meyah decided that now was the time to deal with a question that had
been nagging her since this entire episode. "Father, how many cleansings
have you participated in?"

The aged master eyed her intently. "With this latest case, three." He
paused in consideration, "And do you know what the worst factor of having
witnessed so many Nekoken victims is?"

Meyah said nothing, but merely waited for him to continue.

"Every time, it is just a little easier to watch the pain." He seemed to
straighten in resolve. "Daughter, do you recall the last time that we
sparred
together?" he was unsurprised at her negative response - it had been
years in the least. "Come now, I think we both need to work some energy
off."

Without comment, kohai followed sensei into the meditation glade.


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


Genma silently surveyed the family room of the Tendo residence. It was
Saturday night, and Kasumi was off in the kitchen whipping up some
chocolate chip cookies. Nabiki appeared to be absorbed in some manga
comic book (Genma wasn't entirely sure about its genre - he had given up
trying to understand them after the second page on giant robots), and
Akane was as usual sparring invisible opponents in the dojo. In a week, the
Saotome patriarch had managed to coax his friend out of the self-imposed
shell of misery - at least somewhat - they were now engaged in a friendly
game of shogi. It seemed that the familiarities of alternating between
cheating and distraction had cheered the widower up, reminding him of the
'good ol' days'. Although, Genma dryly considered, the old days with the
Master were perhaps not the ones he particularly wished to remember.

Looking back to the board, the bald martial artist cursed himself for his
inattention - mysteriously his half of the shogi table had turned very much
whiter in the past few seconds. Soun was of course looking off to one side,
whistling an innocent ditty which fooled nobody. Sighing in defeat, Genma
stood up from his cross legged squat. "Looks like you win again Tendo - I
think I'll go over to see how your daughter's holding up with that new
kata."
As if struck by a new thought he added, "Why don't you come along and
see how young Akane is improving?"

Soun appeared ready to accept the invitation but something halted him.
"Saotome my old friend, I-I can't..not yet. She reminds me too much of my
dear Kimiko...please, I need more time." His pleading eyes begged his
companion to let the issue drop.

Genma's shoulders sagged glumly - at least old Soun could say his wife's
name without bursting into tears. Slapping his sitting friend on the back he
wordlessly moved off to the dojo. "Father!", a cheerful young voice called
out. "The cookies are ready. Would you like to try some?"

Soun looked down at the tasty array of freshly baked chocolate chip
sweets laid upon a platter. Just like how Kimiko used to make them.
Smiling weakly for the benefit of his daughter's hopeful expression, he
murmured, "T-they're delightful Kasumi - of course I'll have some." Their
rich aroma drew him back to the days when...*No!* Genma was right, he
had to stop thinking like that. He sighed despondently once Kasumi's back
was turned - it seemed that everything reminded him of the past nowadays.


***********


"No Akane, extend your right foot higher - like this." Genma promptly
demonstrated with a swift reverse foot strike at the dummy's shoulder. "A
girl you may be but that is no excuse for laziness in your attacks."

"Sorry Uncle Saotome," the young child's head drooped in self-
recrimination. Try as he might Genma was unable to summon the proper
stern tonality required for proper training as he had done so for his own
son
- not when Akane displayed that wilted expression like a kicked puppy.

"Come now Akane, the true martial artist does not give up when things get
tough. He..ah I mean she will just try all the harder until the form is
perfected. And you ARE a true martial artist are you not?" There, that was
the best solemnity he could manage.

Steeling herself Akane nodded furiously - no one would dare to doubt her
as a martial artist. So swearing, she again pivoted on her left foot,
jabbing
at the dummy with her right. The kick swung high, clipping the straw doll's
imaginary ear, but before Genma could comment, the determined girl had
already reset her position and performed the kick again...and
again....and again.

Genma nodded his approval. This was the way of the true martial artist.


***********


On another island of Japan, another pair were practicing their art - though
of a totally different style, and perhaps a much higher calibre. Meyah slid
along the rough ground, the bracer on her calf absorbing most of the shock,
to twist her shoulder allowing for the required leverage for a double swing
with her bokkens at the more vulnerable thighs. In response her sensei
inverted himself and temporarily rested his entire weight on the left hand.
Both sai were transferred to the right to catch the arcing wooden blades in
a vice. Releasing his left hand, Kagora rolled back to upright, hoping that
the twisting motion would break Meyah's hold on her bokken.

Of course this was not to be. Meyah merely rolled with him and pressed
forward - sliding her blade forwards through the vice and coming perilously
close to shaving off her master's nose. Grinning with the euphoria of
combat, Kagora jumped into the air, hauling his student bodily with him,
and taking advantage of her short loss of control, kneed her in the belly.
Meyah flipped back as the breath escaped her lungs in a violent whoosh -
and as such she barely raised her guard in time to meet his finishing stroke
to her neck. Kicking out with both feet simultaneously, whilst driving her
bokken tips into the soil to prevent an unceremonious landing on her
bottom she gained a precious half-second as her sensei darted back to
avoid the strikes. Using her blades as leverage, Meyah jerked back into a
ready position, pulling the weapons free with the same movement.

Breathing heavily from the exertion, Kagora commented teasingly, "You're
getting slow Kohai - I almost had you there."

Matching his tone she countered, "Now now old man you'll grow senile
giving yourself gas like that."

"Insolent child." Kagora mocked chided before slipping the loop of an
elastic cord attached to his wrist around the haft of the sai. With a
lightning
swipe he hurled the wooden practice dagger point first towards his
opponent, offsetting its course slightly to counter her expected dodge.
Meyah winced in pain as the blade cracked the air uncomfortably close to
her ear. Her response was a complex weave with her wooden katanas,
making use of her superior reach to force her attacker back. With a speed
which defied logic she alternated between parrying and slashing, breaking
sound at every shift in movement. But Kagora too was no slouch to speed,
and fought back in kind.

Life for the pair became a complex and very deadly dance. Every strike
was dodged or turned aside, every parry answered by a counter thrust.
Weaving in and about the boles of the meditation glade, it would take only
one single error - a slight misstep - to end the battle. Kagora mused
ambiently as he fought - they were avoiding using the special techniques,
and obviously the deadlier array of ninjitsu combinations - but the battle
was vigorous enough. Meyah's knowledge of shiatsu from her healing
background was a definite bonus in her favour - every strike became a
potential disabler, and the effort involved in dodging every point jab as
opposed to simply blocking was taking its toll. As well, she was wielding
her favourite choice of weapons - and wielding them very well indeed. As
with most ninja battles, all it would take was one error and the outcome
would be finalised.

Thought during combat distracted the ninja master, and thus that critical
error came about when Kagora measured himself for a cross strike with
his left sai - and missed. Overextended, he whipped the other sai forward
to offset the loss of balance, but was left hanging for his opponent's
downward slice - which did not miss. Gasping in pain as Meyah's hilt struck
a shiatsu nerve in his wrist, the aged master was unable to control the
reflexive opening of his left hand to drop the dagger. Desperately he
grabbed at the offending bokken, seeking to topple his daughter. Meyah
merely abandoned her weapon, instead returning for a second slash with
her other bokken to slap her father in the belly with the flat. Bent double
and
winded, Kagora was unable to stop his daughter as she deftly flipped him
like a pancake.

When senses had returned to the correct orientation, Meyah was already
standing before him, bokken tip lightly resting against the ball of his
throat.
In a rare show of humour, Kagora mock wailed, "Oh my daughter, why hast
thou forsaken your poor feeble father?"

Meyah tried to suppress her laughter, and failed. Giddy with the relief and
energy of battle, she smirked, "Poor and feeble indeed."

"Now don't we feel much better now?" Kagora queried pleasantly as he
swiftly righted himself.

Meyah's face fell. "All good things must come to an end." It didn't feel
proper to enjoy happiness when her son was unable to.

Her father nodded, "So it seems." As one they glided out of the glade,
returning to Meyah's quarters. Kagora was the first to break the brooding
silence. "Meyah, have you ever wondered why you are the sole person who
can approach me without detection?"

There was a hesitation as she dwelt on that. "I always assumed it was
because you trained me as a shadow warrior yourself from my infancy."

"I have trained many ninjas Meyah, some from their childhood as well."

Silence again reigned as she considered this. When at last she did speak
her voice was studiously neutral. "As far as I am aware, the Nekoken
cannot be genetically inherited."

Bemused, the ninja master commented, "Right and wrong. The Nekoken
is indeed not genetic - but that isn't to say that it cannot be inherited -
at
least a small portion of its essence."

They reached the junction where Kagora would turn off to his own rooms.
"Rest easy Meyah - we still have an arduous journey before us." So saying,
he silently disappeared into the gloom of night, leaving his daughter to
ponder on his words.


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


# One Week. #


Yes, another seven days, and still the cleansing continued. Kagora was
right - time did soften the impact of watching the ritual, and Meyah was not
grateful for the relief in any way. Oddly enough it seemed a betrayal, that
her son be forced to continually endure whilst all those around him slowly
returned to a sense of pseudo-normalcy. Blankly, she watched her child,
curled up in the centre of the dojo floor - the only life signs being a
constant
shivering. Since Ranma had shown no further signs of resistance since the
second day, his ninja guardians had been reduced to four. Currently, it was
Maya, herself and two of the others. The priests as well had been
exchanged some days earlier, but aside from the change of face there was
little difference.

A few minutes later and one of them - a Shintoist - stirred and opened
weary eyes. Gesturing to Meyah, he murmured, "you can care for the boy
now - we will begin again in an hour."

The sword master automatically knelt before a waiting platter of food, and
patiently began to spoon feed it to the boy. Ranma accepted the proffered
nourishment without so much as a blink - his mouth alternating between
chewing and swallowing whilst the eyes stared blankly into space. *This is
what it must be to feed some aged person weakened into a vegetable.*
Except that her patient's features were still fresh from the vigour of
youth.
This was a saddening change from his normal guzzling inhalation of her
meals.

Once the child was finished, Meyah placed the bowl to one side, and gently
patted down his face with a damp towel, closing his bright eyes in the
process. A compassionately warm voice commented from behind. "It is
such a terrible tragedy to have to do this to the poor boy." Meyah turned to
see one of the Buddhists - the mind weaver, smiling mournfully at her.

"How goes the progress with the Nekoken?" Unspoken was the question
of how much longer the cleansing would take.

The priest clasped aged hands over his eyes in fatigue. "It can be likened
to holding back a flood with a fishing net. I work to unravel the curse's
hold
upon the child's mind, but it fights me - very vigorously indeed." Seeing
her
despondent gaze, he hastened to add, "but I do make progress. Slowly but
very surely I am winning."

"How long?"

He paused, "With perseverance, a few more days - his mind is unique -
after about a week it seemed that Ranma, despite his terror realised what
we were trying to achieve. Now he works with us to fight the catfist,
pushing
the darkness where I can 'get' at it."

"As Master Kagora said, a very strong boy." Meyah couldn't hide the pride
in her voice.

"Yes, very strong indeed."

Before the Buddhist returned to his brothers, Meyah caught his sleeve.
"Brother Young Lo, I know it is your duty to serve the afflicted, but thank
you
nonetheless for your tireless efforts. The Shinkasa are fortunate that there
are still some in this world who are not reviled by our heritage."

The priest merely nodded before returning to the other priests. He had to
refocus his inner chi if the next few hours were to achieve anything.


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

                         # # #   # # #
  Tendo and Saotome Schools of Martial Arts.
 See the Tendo Dojo to arrange for personal lessons.
                                # #


Below the bold typing were the fine details - addresses, contact numbers
and such. Soun reflected with pride at the newly polished dojo floor,
refurbished with fresh tatami mats - now all it needed were some new
students to use it.

Young Nabiki had resourcefully seen the rapid distribution of the
advertising fliers in and around both her prep. school and Furinkan High
(Soun never really queried as to the origins of her 'resourcefulness').
According to her, the high school was a place of constant brawling and
battling - so there would presumably be a healthy cadr� of boys (and
maybe even a few girls) who were looking to gain an upper edge over their
rivals. It was hardly befitting for the idealism of martial arts to be
training
high school students to fight each other, but money was money, and in any
case the parents seemed to approve heartily - perhaps it was the hope that
a few lessons at the dojo would save the constant doctor's and hospital
fees.

In the meantime however, Genma had managed to find a reliable job at the
family doctor's clinic, sweeping, cleaning and generally tidying up. Tofu
Ono's wages weren't high - he was only fresh out of medical school and
could barely afford the costly medical supplies let alone hired help. But
seeing the plight of the Tendo family, he had stretched the budget a little
to
accommodate Genma's income.

The fact that the Saotome patriarch was working at all could be solely
attributed to Nabiki. After a few days of the fat martial artist's
residence,
she had tallied up a revised weekly expenditure counting the additional
costs in hot water, and more importantly - food (Genma's appetite was as
healthy as ever). Those calculations completed, she presented the martial
artist with a re-adjusted estimation of just when the Tendo savings would
be depleted - around one and a half years earlier than previous date.

The somewhat slow witted man had however failed to take the not so
subtle hint, and Nabiki had taken it upon herself to convince him of his
'duty'
with a combination of budget lists (his own costs of living highlighted) and
her most endearing 'please please pretty please' large puppy dog eyes
beg. Nabiki had learnt some time past that she was naturally gifted with a
very kawaii look - and so she was determined to milk its worth before it
disappeared with maturity.

Under the honey sweet onslaught the old Saotome had eventually caved in
(he lasted all of half-an-hour) and grudgingly promised to find work of some
sorts.

And so, here he was sweeping sand off the sidewalk - a low sinking for an
Anything Goes practitioner. Soun had better be grateful for the humiliation
that his friend was enduring performing this menial labour.


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


The end, when it finally arrived caught Meyah totally by surprise - so
unobtrusive it was. At 2:10 in the afternoon she had been meditating in the
dojo, awaiting the next resting session. At 2:11, Young Lo had stood and
stated without fanfare, "It is done."

There was a shocked silence. "Ahhh, pardon me brother Young Lo?"
Kinaro broke the quiet.

"The cleansing, it is finished...Ranma is cured." The priest couldn't hide
his relieved smile.

Meyah looked to her son - he was curled up as before, unresponsive to the
environment. No signs, no change, no nothing. "So what now?" The sword
master felt acutely disappointed - after all that they, and especially Ranma
had endured she had somehow expected something more.

"We wait, and hope Ranma returns to us." As always Master Kagora had
sneaked into his dojo unnoticed by any.

His daughter detected the grimness in his voice, "*Hope?* Is that all?
Shouldn't he be cured? I thought..."

The ninja master cut her off, "Ranma is cured yes, but he is also terribly
traumatised - it is not an easy task to suddenly return to the real world
after
it has tortured you so relentlessly. All we do now is wait." Turning to the
priests, he continued, "Brothers, once more the Shinkasa are indebted to
you and your kindred for all that you have done for us." He spread his arms
broadly. "If we may be of any service in the future you need only contact a
clan member and we will be ready to respond."

Bemusedly, Young Lo replied, "Yes, even people such as we may come to
need your...skills...however for the moment we seek only food and rest
before we return to our quarters in Fuchow."

"That you will have, and more." Kagora said, genuinely grateful. "Master
Misho has already arranged for you the swiftest possible transport."

As one the priests bowed and left the room, albeit clumsily, for all of them
were exhausted by the mental strain of the ritual. And in thirty seconds,
the
days of constant trauma came to an abrupt end.

As she impassionately watched the monks falling out of sight, Meyah softly
muttered, "And so without further ado it ends."

Half-amused Kagora commented, "Well, what did you expect, a clash of
thunder and lightning by the gods? Ranma has survived the worst of it -
now he has but one hurdle to cross."

Meyah only stared sadly at her huddling child. Silently she gathered him
into her arms - she couldn't stand him being in this cursed room any longer
than was necessary.


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


Without, the young eight year old appeared devoid of life, but within - the
spark of the soul that had been Saotome Ranma was still present, but
cowering in the recesses of consciousness.

*Where is it? Where is what? The panther of course.* And the boy marveled
that he could even say the word without hiding.
*Panther....tiger.....lions...cat, cat cat cat cat.* Absolutely nothing - it
was as if a part of him - the phobia had been simply cut away.

*But what now?* His entire being had been overturned for eternity, and now
nothing. The fear was gone, and all that remained was the memory of it - a
terrible memory ingrained into his mind such that the boy knew that nothing
short of death would cause him to forget it. That was it. Ranma felt cheated
- all that suffering, the pain, the torment...too many feelings and not
enough words....and for what? Now he could say *CAT* without cringing.
Was that all that Master Kagora and mother had put him through just for
that freedom?

It wasn't fair. He had trusted them completely, trusted that when they said
he was unable to enter society with the curse there was a real reason for
it.
What if he had never met the Shinkasa - what then? Pops would just have
taken him along until he grew up - eventually they would have gone back to
society. So the occasional cat might have terrified him - he might have
gone into Nekoken. Other people must have learnt the same technique
before, and not be found by the Shinkasa, what would have happened to
them?

So many questions, and there weren't any answers here. The confused boy
was determined to drag out a story from his sensei - and it had damn well
be convincing. Ranma knew he had experienced too much to simply
accept reality at face value.

It was then that the young child realised something - where was he? He
was very alone, and it was very dark. And just as that realisation dawned
that same darkness was suddenly cut by twin rays of blinding light. And
before him was mother quietly dabbing at his face with a damp washcloth.
Ranma called out to her eagerly, but his mouth refused to obey - in fact
everything refused to obey. The frantic boy 'thrashed' about wildly, but
nothing. With a furious mental scream of outrage Ranma fought tirelessly
for control.

And outside Meyah quietly continued to clean her child's face. When she
could bear his hollow stare no longer, the swordmaster gently reached out
and closed his eyes once more.

Inside, Ranma vainly called to his mother as darkness once again engulfed
him.


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


"Please Sensei, I haven't seen Ranma in three weeks. I only wanna see
him even if he isn't saying anything." Lano had afixed his best pleading
look, even though it was unlikely to have any credible effect on a Master.

Meyah decide to relent this one time. The young Korean had been
badgering her continually for several days now - even though it had been
made clear that Ranma was still as of yet virtually catatonic. It couldn't
possibly do any harm to let her son's only friend in to see him - provided
of
course that Lano held his tongue about Ranma's state to the others. Meyah
said as much.

Cheerfully Lano replied, "Gee master I wouldn't tell anyone. Thanks a lot
sensei." He was quickly out of sight and in his friend's room before the
swordmaster had time to change her mind. Inwardly, Meyah smiled at his
motley mix of deference to her rank and casualness of speech. It was small
wonder that the two were good friends. That thought jarred her back to the
present, causing her to sigh. She would have given much to hear another
"Awwww, Mom" or "I'm gonna.." .

Inside Lano was gaping at the transformation of his best friend. Aside from
the obvious lack of coherence for which he had been well prepared to
expect, Ranma appeared to have lost some weight - and was considerably
scruffier despite his mother's best attempts to keep him clean. But it was
still the blank gaze which seemed to pass right through the Korean which
dominated his appearance. Disappointed, Lano vainly tried talking to his
companion. "Geez Ranma you look crap. Com'on you can't stay like this
forever." Half-heartedly he added, "you know I'm the best ninja in our age
group now - did you really want to let me get away with it?"

Ranma continued to stare impassively forward, totally unreactive. Lano
stayed with his friend for a few more minutes before standing up to leave.
"I've gotta get to maths class now. I'll drop back in to see ya if your Mom
lets me." Offering a light pat on the back, Lano quickly left the room. With
his back turned he didn't notice his friend's eyes slowly tracking his
departure.

*Fight it you weakling! You can't even control your own stupid body - how
can you be a proper ninja? Everyone wants you back, Master Kagora,
Mom, Lano...EVERYONE! What would old 'pops' think? His son finally
turned out to be a coward just like he said.*

Now that really irked Ranma. He could imagine the old man fuming above
him wailing at the gods for having delivered such a pitiful son. "Oh by the
heavens why must I have such a wretched heir? Boy you will NEVER be a
true martial artist if you continue such foolishness. Are you even a man?"

*Damn you Pops, this is all your fault! I swear by everything I will get out
of
this to live to show you up.* Ranma continued to hammer at this own mind,
as if by sheer force of will he could summon the power to move himself. But
the conscious portion of the brain - long tortured into mindless submission
refused to open once more. *DAMMIT!* It was like battering against a
mountain of pillows - he could see them now - Meyah pleading for her son
to come back to her, Kagora mourning at the loss of his most 'promising'
student, even Lano left alone without a friend.

They were all there, imploring him in their own way. Furiously, Ranma
tripled his efforts - nearly burning himself away in the fire of intensity.
Something gave.

"Mom?" he managed a weakly whispered cry before toppling over
unconscious.


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


Tonight it was hot stew and rice for dinner - as it usually was when Genma
cooked. Of the entire household, it had been quickly discovered that only
Kasumi and himself had any consumer worthy culinary skills. Soun was too
used to his wife's handling of the meals, Nabiki would rather have chocked
up the budget by ordering in take out, and Akane - well they had *told*
Akane that she was too young to be 'playing' in the kitchen. After the
incident with the flammable rice they had considered it far more cost-
effective to just isolate the cooking area as a no-go zone.

Years of life on the road had instilled within the old Saotome only a basic
variety of cuisine - generally anything cookable in a single fire heated
pot -
but it was worth it to give the over-worked 11 year old at least a few days
off the week for her own time. Kasumi was of course much too polite to ask
their guest to cook, but Nabiki had no such qualms, and a few minutes of
puppy dog pleading had put Genma in his place.

In any case Saotome's meals weren't all that bad - if a little plain. Still,
he
added yet another pointer to the 'things for which old Soun owes me big
time' list. A true martial artist pottering about in the kitchen indeed.


***********


Ranma abruptly shot upright from his lying position - and then very
seriously wished he hadn't. Groaning melodramatically as only an eight
year old could he flopped back to the futon in an effort to stave off the
nausea and hammering flooding his brain. But with that ache came the
comprehension that to feel pain meant that he could feel his own body -
Ranma was no longer prisoner in his form. And just as importantly, he was
returned to the world of friends and family.

"Ranma?! You're awake?" His attempts to lie down were jarringly halted as
the boy was enveloped in a furious bear hug. Meyah clutched at her son in
a rare show of loving affection, totally unaware at first of his muffled
protests concerning his lack of air.

"Mom, I love you too, but I gotta breathe as well!"

Meyah was more than satisfied now - her son had returned to her.


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


Kagora stared enigmatically at the boy before him - Ranma was indeed
returned, but something had died within - that spark of innocent life and
flambuoyant happiness had been washed away and replaced by dark
serious eyes. In those bright blue eyes, Kagora saw a reflection of
himself -
the same eyes that stared back at him in the mirror. The aged ninja master
wondered if he had appeared thus before his own father after the
cleansing. "I would suppose you want to know why we subjected you to all
this....this cleansing."

The boy didn't respond, but the eyes passively waited for the forthcoming
explanation. Kagora gestured with his hand that Ranma walk with him
around the grounds. "I think it best if I tell you my own story - something
which I have never told anyone, not even Meyah." He paused, "I think only
one who had suffered in kind, as you have, would truly understand."

There was a long duration of silence as the master composed his thoughts.
"When I was six years of age, my father left the family to journey to China.
It
was just before the World War - the second one that is - and rumours were
rife of terrible atrocities being committed by our own soldiers. And so my
father, Shinkasa Tohiro travelled with a contingent of our own guard to help
our allies there. It wasn't incidentally the first time that the Shinkasa
Clan
have spilled the blood of Japanese soldiers. In any case that is not of
importance. What pertains to this story is that I was left without my
established sensei, and my father being the character he was made sure
to find a great tutor to continue my training - even though I was so young."
He wryly added, "I like to think that there wasn't a more stringent sensei
known to the history of martial arts."

Ranma nodded, though he could think of perhaps one other man who
would be that obsessed.

"My own mother was a non-combatant, which is rare in our society but not
unheard of. She readily accepted that I would be taken on a daily basis
with my new tutor to train in the arts. My sensei was an outsider to the
Clan
but himself was a...once a very great shadow warrior - injuries gained in
his life had hampered his ability to fight in the field. He was just as
submerged in the ninjitsu as my father, perhaps even more so because of
the fact that he was crippled. And one day he came across in our library
the teachings of a very powerful technique, for all combat arts alike that
was virtually unstoppable." Kagora certainly didn't need to name it to his
kohai.

"In fact that entire area of the library was the reference by which the Clan
discovered how to cure the Nekoken - stored mostly for posterity. Unwisely,
my sensei chose not to tell anyone of his discovery lest other students my
age be given the opportunity to learn it as well."

Ranma knew with that gut instinct what was to follow.

"A few days later - I know not how many - he took me outside of the
compound to the northern slopes of this very mountain to begin training. I
needn't tell you what that experience was like. But despite my loathing of
the pit, I promised myself and him not to tell anyone - so determined was I
to be the best - greater than the greatest. I secretly prided myself that I
needed not the support of my family to face this daily torment." Here
Kagora eyed his student meaningfully. With a certain revulsion, the boy
imagined a martial artist so desperate to surpass others as to willingly
torture himself - and somehow it did not seem so unbelievable. He
remained mute however.

"Yes, I cannot believe myself even now how foolishly single minded I was
and at close to seven years old no less. Finally I mastered the Nekoken -
and it was only several days after that when my sensei discovered from the
other masters that the Shinkasa had a long history of searching for catfist
'victims' and cleansing them - a history that I was then unaware of."
Bitterly
he added, "in those days history was only taught to those nine years and
older.

And so, my tutor was left at a terrible impasse - by all rights he should
have
informed the masters of the grievous error, but he greatly feared that my
family would seek retribution for my curse, and thus fled without word or
reason. I know not what became of him, but for his student, a confused
seven year old holding one of the art's most powerful forms with no idea
whatsoever on how to use it or what indeed it actually did - well, it was
hardly the most motivating time for myself to be deserted by my sensei." At
this both paused in their walk - they stood again before the dojo having
made a full circuit of the inner courtyard.

"In the end I decided to remain silent about what had occurred - a totally
foolhardy decision yes - but I was only seven, and caution ruled above
sense." Seeming to shift in attitude he gestured to the entrance, "There's
something of great import that you must see."

Ranma warily paced in - his most recent memories of this room were far
from pleasant. Set up within was a simple monitor and cassette player. "Up
until relatively recently, no Nekoken victim has ever been able to see
themselves in their possessed state - but technology permits that now." So
saying, Kagora ran the video.

The boy couldn't help but reflexively flinch at the scenario playing before
his
eyes - a pigtailed boy, eyes wild screaming in terror before the form of a
grey house cat. Then as if triggered by an internal switch, the young child
suddenly lowered into a four legged stance - hair literally standing on end,
eyes glazed by a thin film which rapidly dissipated, extracting the humanity
within in its passing. And almost plaintively the boy yowled a bereaved cat
cry as if to announce the transformation vocally.

Ranma continued to watch disconsolately as his likeness prowled about
before finding comfort in Meyah's arms. As if in justification Kagora
murmured, "we were fortunate that you are spiritually exceptionally strong -
enough of your former humanity burns through that you still recognise
friends and family."

"T-that's human?" Ranma stammered, staring at the purring child nestled in
his mother's lap.

"Comparatively? Yes it is very human. Most of the possessed lose their
entire concept of their former personalities - essentially they totally
immerse themselves in a cat's nature." His last statement was whispered
most ominously, "And not all cats like people."

"In any case I think we have seen enough." (Ranma heartily agreed with
that). "Returning to our original tale; life more or less returned to normal
for
me - I trained as always, played with my friends as usual, and I also
accompanied my mother on her trips in and around the towns. As a non-
combatant she had little to interest her in the clan house, save for the
temples and libraries, and relished the time she could spend with her own
son - so involved in the arts was he." The old master seemed to wilt a
little
at that, a reaction not lost on his avid listener.

"On one of these occasions I wandered off a short distance, and found
myself isolated in a little cubby hole between two buildings with a common
street cat."

Suddenly Ranma knew just where this story was heading, and he didn't like
it at all.

"My sensei had said nothing about what effect cats would have for me in
the days before he left - although I was aware instinctively that I would
always bear a phobia for felines. Even so as a young relatively
inexperienced child I was caught totally unprepared for what followed."
Kagora seemed to gaze off into nothingness, clearly recalling the
memories as they came. "The cat was obviously starving, and in my weak
attempts to bat it away I must have angered it - for it scratched me.

As you would know I blacked out there and then - but when I awoke, I very
much wished I had remained oblivious to the world - forever. The healer
there was kind - but she couldn't possibly be gentle enough to break the
news to me. My...my mother was dead, and so were forty or so other
people - twelve later died from their injuries. She would tell me no more
than that": The pigtailed boy's visage whitened in shock.

Kagora continued in a monologue so dry it was almost devoid of life. "I was
so young and confused I had no idea of what was occurring around me. All
I knew was that my mother was dead, my father was far off in another land,
and everyone else seemed just as keen to avoid me."

"When father heard the news - that his wife was deceased, and that his son
was cursed with the Nekoken - he of course returned immediately. For
many days he stayed in seclusion - but when he finally emerged, father told
me directly, without embellishment what had happened." For the first time
in his long speech Kagora's voice shifted, turning hoarse, filled with long
suppressed emotions. "It was and still remains the worst ten minutes of my
life - and likely to remain so.

According to the witnesses who had survived, and there were not many, my
mother had been drawn from her conversation with a local baker by the
sight of her son tearing towards her in a frenzy. She was caught completely
unawares - literally one moment her son was at her side as usual and the
next moment - well, I will never know, but I think the word 'catfist' never
even
crossed her mind. She reacted purely on reflex, grabbing me as I passed
her - and so I reacted purely on instinct and scratched her." To drive his
point home Kagora dropped his hand to the monitor stand which still held
the television in the dojo centre, utterly demolishing it. Ranma couldn't
help
but take a shaky step backwards as he stared in wide eyed horror.

"She died instantly - or as instantly as anyone with four cleaving slashes
to
their skull could. Her friend the baker was so stunned he could only
gape....but then he tried to stop me from getting away - thinking that I had
gone insane. He was right, but I scratched him too. Blood crazed, and
totally lost in my possession - things just 'went downhill from there'"
Kagora
laughed weakly at his awfully ill timed jibe, but there was no humour in
it -
only supreme bitterness.

"I think I hated my father more than ever at that point. He had
irrecoverably
destroyed my innocence, my honour, my will to go on - everything. Weeping
with confusion, shame and much grief, I demanded to know why he had
told me all this. Ignorance would have been such bliss."

"I remember his reply, *So that when you experience what is to come, my
son, you will ultimately have some acceptance of why it must be so.* He
began the cleansing that very day." The ninja master seemed to shake
himself visibly, as if emerging from a trance. "and even after those
terrible
weeks - life was never really normal for a very long time. I was isolated
and
hidden from the public, lest it be revealed that the Shinkasa were still
housing the murderous 'killer boy'. The masters conjured up this hash of a
tale about having defeated some crazed demon incarnate - they had to lest
we lose the trust of the people that the Shinkasa had sworn to protect.

Inevitably I grew older, and eventually returned to society outside the
clan -
maturity and a teenager's body was sufficient that nobody recognised me
for who I once was. The War continued, and with it the chaos of destruction.
In time those who were murdered that day were only statistics of the
greater number of 'missing persons' following Japan's surrender." Kagora
breathed heavily, clearly finished for now.

Ranma was unsure of what to either do or say - his master had suffered the
same plight as himself, and oh so very much more. "Master Kagora?,
I'm....I'm sorry."

"What for?" There was really no answer to that. "I only tell you this that
you
understand why we put you through that agony. Can you accept that and
still live on with us?"

The boy nodded determinedly, "Hai sensei."

Kagora nodded his approval. Reaching down he retrieved a steel rod lately
from the broken stand. "Then break this."

Of course Ranma knew what his master wanted - but what came as a
jolting shock was the fact that he could. The Nekoken - it was already there
for the taking. A moment's concentration, a swing, and the rod was
fragmented.

"That was very very easy was it not?"

"Hai sensei."

"So easy that at any point in time when you are threatened or otherwise
you could simply call up the catfist and use it to full advantage?"

Ranma was halfway through the action of a nod before he realised what he
was affirming to. He looked tentatively into his master's inquisitive eyes.
A
hesitation, then he firmly spoke, "Master Kagora, I swear on my honour that
I will never use the Nekoken, except..except when I need it most" (he
would have used the phrase 'direst need' but the eight year old wasn't
entirely sure if that was correct terminology).

Kagora's gaze never broke. "Kohai, that is not good enough."

Ranma started a little in shock. *What more could he possibly want from
me?*

"Ranma, I trust in your infallible good will and noble disposition" (the boy
blushed at that) "and certainly you are not one to fall back on your
honour...but...honour holds only a weak control over the heart - a moment
of intense anger and all your oaths can be forsworn until it is too late."

The ninja trainee could accept that - but what did the master require for
assurance?

"I ask for no oaths or vows. Only this that you mustn't - simply must NOT -
ever employ the catfist for anything - not anger, love, hate - other than
for
the greater good - and only you can be the judge of where that border lies.
There are times when it may be used, to cut a pathway, to break a barrier -
but to wield the Nekoken against another living being is to court death -
and I am not referring to your own. There may be a time, hopefully as far
from the present as possible where you may be required to take a life, but I
trust that you will do so only in greatest need. At eight years of age
Ranma,
you must shoulder a greater responsibility than many ever see in a life time
- power is not awarded lightly and is lethal in the hands of the unworthy.
Never forget that." Kagora's eyes conveyed his paramount solemnity in
this.

Ranma returned the seriousness. "I still swear on my life anyway, sensei."

"Very well. It is clear to all that you may be worthy." His tone seemed to
lighten. "Go now, and take as many days as you require, then we will begin
training again, not so?"

"Hai sensei, but I will start training again tomorrow - Mo.Master Meyah
told me already that I have been 'out of action' for two weeks following my
cleansing."

"As you wish, Ranma. And thank you as well, for listening to an old man's
tale."

The pigtailed boy bowed respectfully and left the dojo. On his way back to
Meyah's quarters he snorted, *old man indeed.*

Behind him, Kagora watched the slowly disappearing form of his kohai.
For the first time in many long weeks, he smiled faintly.


*********


When Ranma arrived back at his own bedroom Meyah was nowhere to be
found. Welcoming the solitude for the moment he headed unerringly to a
small cupola under the stairway to the upstair's storage rooms. There
hidden from sight, and kept mostly freed of dust by the low roof was a
large, (compared to the himself at least) ruggedly constructed backpack of
toughened waterproof canvas.

It was his backpack, from the past days of constant wandering with father.
Months ago, when his place at the Clan had been firmly established, an
expedition of two ninjas was sent out on a relatively minor night errand to
collect this pack and a few other minor belongings from a slumbering
Saotome Genma (they had knocked him out of commission). Although in
reality Ranma had no material usage of any of the possessions contained
within, he kept the pack mostly for posterity's sake - and in any case it
was
assumed that his father would probably have discarded it after a month or
two.

Untying the rope which closed the top flap, the boy methodically began the
process of unpacking the contents, neatly laying out each item on the
limited floor space under the stairwell. First came a series of old
clothing -
a white gi, another white gi, a bundle of boxer shorts, yet another gi -
then
finally the current target of his interest.

It was perhaps the only fine piece of fabric in the pigtailed boy's entire
collection of belongings preceding his new home - a red silken cloth within
which was stored the mementos gathered over the years. Of course there
weren't many - he was still young, and it was impractical to carry anything
more than basic necessities anyway. However what little he maintained
were well remembered - needing no memory jogging labels - even though
some were considered worthless in material value. A chip of plankwood
from the first block he smashed with his bare hands; the tanto dagger
bearing the Saotome family crest upon its pommel (somehow though he
felt a little discomforted at the thought of still carrying the heirloom
despite
the change in situation); a pebble taken from the cliffs at Soya-Misaki -
the
northernmost point of Japan; a small, hardened steel spatula.

Ranma paused in his perusal at that last item - it brought back distant
memories. Upon the flat of the cooking utensil was carved the kanji for
'Wild' - the first character of his own name, followed by the diminutive
'chan'.

*Ranchan* - the teasing pet name which his old friend Ukyou had given him.
Flipping the spatula over, the pigtailed trainee noted the kanji laboriously
etched into the smooth steel surface - 'Ucchan'. Yeah, Ukyou was a good
buddy. Absently he wondered what had become of the erstwhile
okonomiyaki chef to be.

Coming back to the present, Ranma returned the spatula to the silken
bundle, and then withdrew another trinket from his back pocket - adding it
to the memento collection. It was a fragmented shard of steel piping which
had once formed a support leg of a television stand until a recent master of
the Nekoken had shattered it. This was to be his reminder - of the oath
made to Master Kagora and more importantly to himself.

With no further reminiscence the young child hastily repacked the scattered
items to his old backpack, and once again placing the canvas bag within
the cupola. It was drawing late into the night and he still had much to
do...or practice. Once the area was tidied and the stair closet closed, the
ninja trainee swiftly turned and glided to his own bedroom.

His sharp eyes however immediately detected twin glints of moonlight
reflected upon polished metal. Tensing himself reflexively for an assault,
Ranma melted as best as he could into the available shadows. After a few
intense seconds it became clear that there was nobody in the room.

Cautiously, the boy floated up to his futon, to see two unsheathed blades -
katanas in fact. But more importantly, he recognised them as Meyah's own,
probably her most prized material possessions - the same katanas that
she had wielded on their very first weapons session. Reverently, the ninja
trainee raised one of the razor sharp blades to his face, inspecting its
every curve and temper point. Flawless. Clasped even in his child's grip,
the ancient tools were no longer weapons but merely razor extensions of
his body - and Ranma was uncannily familiar with wielding razor cutters.

After several minutes of experimental katas with the surprisingly light
weapons, Ranma reluctantly resheathed his mother's katanas and returned
them to her room. He knew not why she had left them for him to see, but
nonetheless such perfectly forged blades had no place in training.
Returning to his rooms, the boy retrieved his own wooden bokkens, feeling
the familiar grip of their leather handles, and stepped out to the glade to
practice. He needed some work very badly to catch up on lost time - and
Nekoken master or not, Ranma was still Kagora's heir - an honour he had
to earn to be worthy.


**********


Meyah returned to her rooms after her own quiet walk along the compound
palisade. She fervently hoped that Ranma's interlude with her father had
perhaps rejuvenated the boy a little - on his leaving he seemed so very
serious and destitute - a solemnity far outweighing his child's age.

She at once noticed the return of her grandfather's katanas, and the
absence of Ranma's own wooden practice swords. Noiselessly she wafted
to the meditation glade entrance and silently beheld her son, once again
sparring amongst the boles.

She remained unnoticed for an entire two seconds before he abruptly
halted and turned to her. "Mom?"

"You heard me," her reply was neither question nor statement.

For a precious moment his eyes seemed ageless. "I can hear lotsa things
now - just like you Mom."

"Lots of" she whispered in correction.

He smiled impishly, the last trace of the old carefree Ranma, but that was
quickly extinguished in a more hidden smile - so very much like her own
father. "I know Mom, I have to improve my speech." Abruptly he changed
topics, "Can we start training again tomorrow?"

She was mildly surprised at that query. "If you so wish, but there isn't any
rush."

"I wanna.want TO.start anyway."

She smiled warmly, "very well, but keep practicing now - I want to observe
your form."

Wordlessly Ranma reverted to the kata she had instructed him in all those
weeks ago. As he flowed, her smile widened - Ranma may have been
changed from the boy she had known, but at least he was back - and for
that she loved him all the more.


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



Author's Notes.
My god that was long - at least for me. It seems that my writing is getting
more and more extensive as I mature. Alright, now some of you may or
may not be wondering if I have been wandering off the topic - I assure you I
have not, and everything is flowing nicely - I just like detail that's all.
If some
of you think I'm being too pedantic email me with C&C (of course if you
love my work [hee hee] I'd welcome that even more). Be prepared for a
large jump in time for the next chapter - where we find out more about
Ranma's future.
You can find the rest of my works at http://members.xoom.com/dojohouse
Or email at dojohouse@xoommail.com


Generic statement.
Comments and criticism are always welcome (flame me if you must), but
I won't accept any ethical stuff from people who hate any particular love
match ups which may or may not occur in this series. I personally don't
really have any objection to any possible girls Ranma could end up with
(although Ukyou is my personal favourite) - no don't cringe I also like
Akane/Ranma, Shampoo/Ranma etc. ones too, but I've gotta have a
favourite. Every new fanfiction I write will have a different match up
(assuming that is there is any match up at all). If your particular pairing
hasn't come up yet, then tough rocks - I'll get to it

Things to note.
As far as I can see there aren't any unknown Japanese translations
required here. However for all you skeptics out there, I have done my
homework and not ALL ninja clans were evil kinevil (eg, Kamiokara of the
pre-Meji restoration period). So I am not buttering up the Shinkasa Clan
just to make them look like the goody goodies. This is however a work of
fiction and I accept no ethical flames about how I am supporting the Yakuza
or murder, mayhem, poisoning etc.
As well, I change the set thesis laid out by Takahashi as suits my series -
this is an alternate universe so certain factors (eg. the nekoken's nature)
may be altered.




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