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The FFML Refugee List


  The  characters  of the Ranma 1/2  universe  are  the
creation   and   possession  of  the  brilliant   Rumiko
Takahashi.  They  belong  to Rumiko  Takahashi  and  her
licensees   (Shogakukan   Inc.,   Kitty-Fuji   TV,   Viz
Communications   Inc.)  No  copyright  infringement   is
                intended.


WARNING: DARK!
Contains Graphic scenes of violence.




******************************************************
           Cherry Blossoms



          Sub-Lieutenant Kui Fulin was not happy with his
current assignment. Bumping along the ruins of what had
once been a central thoroughfare he was well aware that his
happiness was of little concern to the Peoples Army. Stealing a
glance at the Major seated beside him he had a shivery feeling
that it was a single person, rather than the People, he should be
worried about.

      Even the occasional grinding of metal, as he made side
trips through the transmission in an attempt to find a gear,
didn't disturb the Major's imperturbable stillness; like a lion
waiting  in ambush or a bronze statue, except lions only killed
when they were hungry. And bronze was warmer and more
malleable than the Major.

       Oily sweat cut rivulets through the grime and road-
dust coating Fulin's face and goggles. Scrubbing the lenses
clean with a limp dirty rag that had, only a few hours earlier,
been a crisp, white, regulation handkerchief Fulin darted a
resentful look out of the corner of his eye.  Uniform crisply
pressed, knife edged creases and boots polished to a shine that
hurt to look at---- dirt and sweat wouldn't dare mar the
perfection of the Major's tailoring.  The Major noticed Fulin's
stare and the Lieutenant found himself trying to swallow a fist
sized lump that suddenly lodged in his throat.

      The Signal Corps unit flash and Cartography unit
insignia indicated the Major was someone who, perhaps,
developed maps of roads, bridges and the like. And the Special
Cartography Service did indeed make maps of roads, bridges
and buildings; then proceeded to mine the roads, blow up the
bridges and kill everyone in the buildings.  Rumor had it that
they ate their dead, because nothing else living would.
However the Major disregarded Fulin's resentful glare with a
soft grunt that could have been an acknowledgment of his
right to live and breath the same air as the Major, or simply
the sound of a predator disregarding prey as not worth the
effort to chew.

      The sound of small-arms fire, punctuated with the
chatter of a heavy machine gun and the occasional "crump" of
a Type-60 mortar in the distance,  provided a welcome
distraction. Even though several of his friends had been killed
or crippled by enemy or  "friendly" fire in the past year, Fulin
decided waiting for an incendiary round in the gut _had_ to be
better than another minute sitting next to this silent killer.

      A year and a half ago he'd been happily, if
unspectacularly, employed as a minor official in a minor
bureau dedicated to refurbishing gas-meters.  Until an
earthquake dropped twenty square miles of a submarine
mountain range to the bottom of the Pacific, and a wall of
water sixty meters high hit the west coast of America and
raced inland at ten meters-per-second.  In less than an hour
Arizona was beach-front property and thirty percent of the US
Pacific Fleet (and all of its basing facilities) vanished in a
debacle that made " December 7" seem like a play-ground
fight.

      The "liberated" Land Cruiser lurched as Fulin
wrestled the big four-by-four past the twisted wreckage of a
big, twin-tailed fighter that had smashed into a school
courtyard after the pilot had taken a thirty-seven millimeter
cannon round close aboard.  He'd already accounted for six
attacking fighters before, ammunition and missiles exhausted,
he'd headed for the scratch-base that held all that was left of
"Thunder" squadron, one of only three squadrons remaining
of the original twelve tasked to defend his homeland. His sick
Eagle could never make it home and it was unthinkable a
samurai would become a prisoner-of-war.

        Ten thousand feet below, General Xiong Guangkai
had decided the abandoned school made an ideal revetment for
his T-90 tanks, the biggest and most modern in the PLA
inventory. But not the most paranoid armor designer had
contemplated stopping a sixty-five thousand pound  projectile
moving at mach one-point-five. General Xiong's replacement
had to find a new place for his tanks. And new tanks for the
place.

       General Xiong's family got a small box of charred dirt
that, theoretically at least , contained some of General Xiong.

      Shortly after the tsunami (which geologist were calling
a hundred-thousand-year event), and purely by coincidence,
The Peoples Republic decided to renew their traditional claim
to the Nansha Islands and their break-away province of
Taipei.  The islands, really nothing more than a few scattered
kilometers of bare rock, were important only because they
provided control over  vast reserves of oil and natural gas in
the South China Sea. So vast in fact that these mostly
submerged rocks had been the scene of battle between China,
Vietnam, Malaysia and the Philippines, the last clash in
October of 1999.

       However, with the United State otherwise occupied
the PRC had successfully pressed their claim to the Nanshu
chain, along with a "buffer" zone in the various contesting
countries. Their breakaway province had proved a
tougher nut. Despite the loss of American military support and
horrific damage from the tsunami, there remained sufficient
costal artillery, attack aircraft and mines to make a meat-
grinder for the sausage of the PLA naval, air and ground
forces.


      Which was why Fulin found himself on this miserable
island full of people trying to kill him.  Seated next to a PLA
Major who scared him more than all the bombs and tanks and
killers hidden in the shadows of bombed-out building ever
had.  Because, in order to secure their flanks, and to deprive
American forces of forward bases to aid Taipai, the PRC had
"reunified" Korea . . .and invaded Japan.


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

      "Colonel Wu?" Lieutenant Kui saluted nervously as
the tough, battle stained soldier scowled at him. "I have
brought---- "

      "General Lu's pet commando!" Wu snorted
disdainfully. "I know all about the 'Special' Cartography
Service." Radio messages crackled from the command trailer
as clerk specialists created order from chaos and dispatch
riders, chosen for their legs and lungs, waited by their bicycles.
"My armor and infantry can take care of this rabble," he swept
a hand to encompass the twisted steel, concrete and glass that
had been the largest city in the world a few months ago.


      "I have been asked to observe and advise." The Major
said in neutral tones.

      "Advise?" Wu's nostrils flared angrily. "We don't
need 'advice', we need more tanks and air support."

      The Major said nothing, but a raised eyebrow invited
the Colonel to continue.

      "Everywhere you turn, one of the little bastards is
waiting---- with a bottle of gasoline and a match or a length of
bamboo with a knife tied to the end, or a stolen rifle. Why
can't these stupid people realize we're only trying to make
sure they don't let the Americans interfere with our assault
against the rebels on Taipei?"

      "Perhaps they see this as an invasion of their country,
rather than a completely necessary security zone for our
national defense."

      Wu regarded the Major suspiciously for a moment,
wondering if there were anything counter-revolutionary in that
letter perfect recitation of the PRC's preamble to a recent
address at the United Nations.  Hesitating another moment, he
continued.


                 "A unit of Naval Infantry made contact with a
terrorist group at," he consulted some notes. "0900 hours, and
pinned them in a building. I immediately reinforced with
Captain Ding's armored company. He has four T-80II tanks in
addition to his Armored Personnel Carriers, which provide
him with four thirty-seven-millimeter cannon, two eighty-
millimeter mortars and one of the new Dragon's Breath
multiple rocket launchers." Colonel Wu smiled in satisfaction.
"A few ragged, starving terrorists armed with stolen or home-
made weapons can't possibly----" A private dashed up,
saluted, and handed the Colonel a message form.

      "Ahhhh . . .we've re-established contact with Captain
Ding. The bastards are always cutting the phone lines," he
answered the Majors interrogative look. "they're masters of
sabotage. No matter how many of them we kill, we still can't
keep more than half of our vehicles running. The situations
with the radios and other electronics is even worse." Which
explained the bicycle messengers and, hopefully, would cover
him if anyone looked at the state of his maintenance section.
The Major was all too aware that, if lucky, no more than one
third of a battalions ordnance and supplies ended up on the
black market.  And if there were five qualified mechanics and
three electronic's techs within a hundred kilometers of
here . . .it was only because someone had been burning incense
by the truckload in front of Quan Yin's shrine. And if two of
them were sober, the Buddha himself had returned.

      "Now you will see what regular infantry, properly led
and supported can accomplish." Colonel Wu lead the way to
the communications trailer. With a few brief words he had one
of the operators plug into a speaker, then took the microphone
himself.

      "Captain Ding. This is Colonel Wu. We have a very
special observer here, to check up on your progress."

      "Thi . . .is . . .Din . . ." static made a hash of the
transmission and, under the frowning eye of his colonel, the
operator tried valiantly to clean it up.

      " . . .aking assault . . .ow. We're . . .tank . . .cover . . .
for . . .ault on . .terror . . sition." The heavy thud of a tank
main gun slammed through the static, counter-pointed by the
chatter of light automatic weapons fire. "The first wave . . .
going . . .now. No sign . . .activity . . ."

      "Excellent work, Captain Ding."

       Wu released the microphone button and turned to his
visitor as static hissed from the speaker. "With all due
respect," Colonel Wu's tone was anything but, "I don't see
that your _special_ section can do anything that a regular
infantry----"

      A horrific scream echoed from the speaker, followed
by a series of thunderous explosions. More shouts and
explosions----then Ding's voice came across the radio shrill
with panic.

      "Colonel Wu! It's a trap. There are two ----" A strange
whistling sound terminated in a wet thud, audible even over
the poor connection, and the radio went silent, except for the
steady hiss of the carrier wave.

      "Perhaps," the Major said mildly, "we should go see if
Captain Ding could use some advice?"

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

      Fulin edged the Land Cruiser slowly down the cratered
and rubble filled streets.  The Major seemed to like his driving,
but that kind of flattery seemed likely to get him killed. As
they approached Ding's position, APC's could be seen burning
and disabled.  One had been blown apart, like a cheap toy,
when something had detonated it's external ammunition racks.
A fault corrected in later models, but of no use to the crew of
this one.  Others lay canted on their sides with shattered road-
wheels and crumpled armor. One lay nose down at almost a
ninety-degree angle. As they passed it, Fulin could see that it
had fallen into a pit trap. It had been moving at a high rate of
speed when it went in . . .high enough to drive the iron spikes
buried at the bottom of the pit completely through the vehicle.
The ends of the spikes appeared to be wet, and Fulin quickly
averted his eyes. He saw the Major looking at him, and was
further surprised to see sympathy rather than scorn in those
normally cold eyes.

      Nearing the fall-back position of the badly shaken
company they saw a tank, or at least parts of one. The turret of
a T-80 had been blown clear of the hull and the main-gun was
pealed back from the muzzle like a banana.

      "Stop."

      Fulin stomped down on the brake, but the Major had
already vaulted easily from the still moving vehicle.

      "What are you----" Colonel Wu began angrily,
disentangling  himself from the rear seat.

      "Look . . ." The Major's held out a broken piece of
thick rod. .

      "A stick?" Wu's voice held equal measures of anger
and question.

      "The shaft of an arrow . . ."

      Fulin could see ragged bits of fletching, now that it
was pointed out to him. The Major must have eyes like a cat.
But he couldn't understand why the Major was so
interested---- and suddenly he could.  As clearly as if he'd been
there, Fulin could see the tank crew moving forward, wrapped
in  forty tons of steel. They would sweep the area ahead with
their two thirteen millimeter machine guns, while they looked
for a target worthy of the 105mm main gun. The commander
would find a target, the gunner would traverse the turret. A
round would be selected, perhaps high-explosive-incendiary
anti-personnel. The breach would open, the loader would slide
the huge shell in place---- and an arrow, a weapon centuries
out of time, whispered through the air, threading itself down
the impossible target of the cannon muzzle. An arrow, tipped
with explosive, (home-made or stolen from the invader, it
didn't matter) and detonated the shell just being loaded,
blowing the breach block into the interior. Smashing the
loader and commander into a red-ruin and detonating the
ready-rounds located on the inner-ring of the turret.

      At least they didn't suffer Fulin thought. Hoped,
watching the still burning remains of the tank. It would burn
for days, he remembered from his training. There was a lot to
burn. Fuel, rubber, plastic and other . . .things.

      "Where are we!"

      The Major's sharp question cut through his shock.

      "Where are we!" The Major was staring at the
fletching, as if it could talk, while Fulin fumbled for his map
case.

      "We're at Grid eight----"

      "Not that," the Major corrected sharply. "What was
this place . . .before . . ."

      "Oh . . ." That could be a problem. Tokyo was such a
confusing maze that even natives got lost once they left their
own neighborhoods. A year of intensive warfare had destroyed
most landmarks but . . .pulling out maps without regard for
proper order he found what he was looking for. Holding the
trusty Auto Club map up to the horizon he turned slowly, to
orient himself, then checked the map again.

      "Nerima," he pronounced with assurance. "This used
to be Nerima-ku."

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

      Silently the Major ghosted through the rubble of what
might once have been a dwelling. Or a factory. Or it might
always have been just a pile of rubble. But the Major
thought----

      "Hello, Shan Pu."

       Damn.

      "Nihao, Pervert Girl." She was right. Turning, slowly,
she saw a slightly deeper shadow in the corner of what had
once been the family room.

      "Shan Pu bring too, too delicious DimSum." She held
up a box and let it dangle from the tip of her fingers. In
actuality it was MRE's, but it was the thought that counted.
Moving forward slowly, the shadow slowly resolved into a
small figure with dark hair, liberally sprinkled with grey.
Shan Pu was shocked at how old she looked. Old and tired,
but she supposed being on the losing side of a war would do
that to you.

      "Forgive me for not getting up," a slight smile twisted
her lips and for a moment she looked like her rival of old, "but
I  was a little slow during the assault on the Palace."

      She could only mean the  attempt to capture the royal family
  that had gutted the 15th Airborn and netted them an
Emperor----dead, buying time for his family to flee,
  and a fanatical hatred for everything Chinese from the
surviving Japanese nation.  Another step forward and
  Shan Pu could see the ragged, poorly healed
stumps where legs had once been.

      "Mortar round," she answered Shan Pu's unspoken
question.  The Amazon took another step.

      "No closer," Akane gestured sharply with a crossbow
and Shan Pu froze. The home-made weapon had been
constructed using the leaf-spring from a diesel truck and the
savagely barbed arrow-head looked sufficient to disembowel a
locomotive.

      "Akane need help," Shan Pu said softly. No can get
away. Even if have two good leg, no can----" A sudden
thought hit her. Akane couldn't possibly have gotten here by
herself. And that meant . . .

      "Ranma's not here."

      "What pervert girl mean?"

      Akane seemed genuinely amused.  "You forget, I've
seen that look before."

      "What you talking?" Shan Pu felt a blush creep up her
neck.  "Ranma here. Ranma no leave wife." Even after all
these years she got a tingle in her tummy just thinking about
him.

      "You've been away," Akane gestured with the
crossbow, "but were are my manners. Please . . .sit down." She
waited while Shan Pu found a relatively clear space and seated
herself. "You've been gone . . .twelve years now?"

      "Few months more," Shan Pu agreed.

      "Well, things change over time." Akane waved a hand
at the rubble that had been the Tendou family home for almost
five centuries.  "Especially over the last few months," her eyes
sparkled with an unhealthy light that worried Shan Pu.
Particularly with the steriod-enhanced arrow locked on her
belly like a missile.

      "Let's see . . .where to begin? After the PLA landed
troops in the port . . .tried to land troops," she amended, "Papa
and Uncle Genma joined the Home Guard. The SDF wouldn't
take them. Too old," she explained.  "They were part of the
rear-guard that covered the refugee flights out of Narita
airport. Nabiki, auntie Nodoka and the kids were on the last
flight that made it out." She paused. "At least we _think_ they
made it out. It was kind of hard to tell after you nuked the
airfield."

      "That was a mistake," Shan Pu replied, losing her
'too, too cute' accent under stress. "There was a report that
atomic weapons were being used against the landing force and
someone panicked."

      "So that's what happened," Akane murmured. "That
was Ranma, you know."

      "Ranma?" Shan Pu had the sick feeling she wasn't
going to like what she was going to hear.

      "He was with the SDF, trying to stop your landing
ships.  Ukyou told me he took out a cruiser and three
destroyers with a Hiryuu Shouten Ha. That must have been
what your people thought was an atomic attack."

      "Ranma kill also second cruiser and two troopship."
Shan Pu remembered the official report of the losses. And how
the old men in Beijing had pissed themselves thinking the
Americans had arrived and were about to turn their capitol into
a shiny glass crater.


      "Really?" Akane smiled, tiredly. "That's good to
know. Ukyou was with a group trying to clear out some of
your para-troops and kind of far from the action. She must
have missed that."

      "Where Ukyou now?"

      "After what happened to Konatsu she . . . .maybe if
she'd been able to remember him the way he was . . .but she
found the body . . ." Akane didn't elaborate and her expression
kept Shan Pu from pressing her for details about the cross-
dressing ninja. "The last I heard she was developing a new
type okonomiyaki . . . extra-crispy Chinese."

      Shan Pu repressed a grim smile. That was a very
Amazon-like attitude. A sudden thought banished the smile
and she made a mental note to warn her Amazon's to avoid
yatai's with cute vendors . . .the Han Chinese were on their
own, though.

      "Kuno joined the Air Self Defense Force right after
graduation. He made 'ace' the first week of the invasion."
Akane chuckled softly. "Who would have thought it? The big
idiot was actually _good_ at something.  He used fly over the
house and do a slow-roll, to show we were under the
protection of the 'Blue Thunder'.  Every day, on his way back
to his base. Until one day, he didn't." The setting sun cast a
slender beam of light across her face, highlighting her too thin
face and pinched cheeks. " He probably went and did
something stupidly heroic and got himself killed. The idiot."

      "I don't know what happened to Kodachi or any of the
gang from school ----"

      "Where Kasumi?"  Shan Pu blurted, suddenly missing
the eldest Tendou sister from the narrative of war. A fleeting
expression crossed Akane's face. A sudden surge of emotion
so strong that it forced the Amazon back a step and she was
sure she was going to die. As quickly as it came, it vanished
and Akane continued, her tone so normal it frightened Shan
Pu.

      "This was her home. She wouldn't leave. And she said
someone had to take care of father and Ranma and . . .me."
Akane was staring at something only see could see, so lost in
memories Shan Pu could have disarmed her in an instant. It
never occurred to her to try.

      "She was shopping . . . well, foraging is more like it.
Food and medicine for us. And some of the other people still in
the neighborhood. Old, sick or just nowhere else to go."
Muscled bunched in her jaw at some memory. "She was
everyone's mother and big-sister. She never hurt anyone. . . do
you know what a comfort battalion is?" Akane asked casually,
and Shan Pu hissed in shock.

      "And after they were . . .finished, they made her cook
them dinner. She was always borrowing all those books from
Dr. Tofu, on herbs and stuff," Akane said, seemingly apropos
of nothing and  Shan Pu put her hand out, in denial or to stop
Akane's calm recital she didn't know. "and then they couldn't
hurt her any more.  Couldn't hurt anyone else, ever again."

      "She was Samurai." Shan Pu said quietly.

      "She was Samurai." Akane agreed.

      "Ranma?" Shan Pu was pretty sure what the answer
was going to be, but she had to know.

      "Dead," Akane said simply. "I felt it happen. Like . . .
a sword cut, fast and cold . . .so cold. He . . .just wasn't there
anymore." She looked Shan Pu in the eyes, her own eerily
empty, as if she weren't quite sane. "Which was really quite
strange, because Ranma _can't_ die. He promised me . . .the
baka promised to come back. So if he's dead, I must be dead
too."

      Shan Pu had never been so frightened in her life. Not
even when the elders told her she had join the PLA. Not the
battles in the Philippines, sneaking behind the lines in Korea,
nothing in her life frightened her as much as being in the same
room with this beautifully mad woman.

      Three thousand years of Amazon history (and ten
thousand blows from great-grandmothers stick) allowed her to
break eye-contact with the glittering insanity that burned in
Akane's eyes.

      "You need help. If you stay here they're going to start
another assault. Or bomb everything from the air."

      "You're accent's slipping." the madness receded from
Akane's eyes and she smiled, a nearly normal smile, at Shan
Pu's blush.

      "Easy fool people when too, too cute."

      "I should have figured it out. I never was too smart,
was I?"

      "Akane no stay here." Shan Pu tried a different tact,
not wanting to see the mad light in her eyes again. "Akane
come China Shan Pu. Stay, be safe. No be alone."

      "But I'm not alone," Akane said softly, and part of a
wall detached itself . . .and walked. Shan Pu fell back in
surprise as the shambling figure slowly revealed itself in the
fading light.  Tree trunk sized legs supported a thick waist and
massive shoulders.  Arms, corded with muscle ended in
scarred, blunt fingered hands, whose digits added up to less
than ten. Strong hands, which lightly held a studded iron club,
taller than the figure by a foot and as big around as a
telephone pole.  A weapon suitable for crushing the skull of
T. Rex, or battering in the sides of an APC. What it would do
to a human didn't bear thinking. And then, Shan Pu wasn't
thinking about weapons, as the figure came full into the light,
and revealed a horror out of nightmares. Red, raw ruin in
place of a human face . . .black holes where eyes and nose had
been and a soft depression where one whole side of the head
had been blown away, and the skin re-grown loosely over the
wound.  Almost worse of all was the loss of the lower jaw,
leaving a gaping hole where breath bubbled in and out,
obscenely framed by the upper teeth that, remained----
somehow----white and perfect.

      The horror turned toward where she lay and took an
unerring step toward her. Three thousand years of Amazon
history fled and she scuttled backward, with a small squeak of
fright. Not of the iron club, but that the . . .thing would touch
her. She rolled to the right, and to her horror, the eyeless thing
followed her, turning as she turned.

      "I don't know how he does it either," Akane answered
her unspoken and horrified question. "Sense of smell . . .
hearing . . .magic? He found me when I was in the aid hospital
after . . ." She indicated her ruined legs with a gesture. "and
we've been together since. The baka would get lost in a room
with only one door, before. And now, I just have to tell him
where I want to go, and we go."

      "No . . .it can't . . ." Shan Pu forced herself to look at
the disfigured ruin, searching for any sign of the lost boy.

      "Well, it's been nice seeing you again," Akane smiled
and the crippled giant turned from Shan Pu to gather Akane in
his arms. He fumbled with a harness and suddenly Akane was
hanging, strapped to his back, her over-sized cross-bow in her
hands. "but we've got some things to do."

      "Come with me," Shan Pu rose to her feet and faced
Akane. "I can get you back to China. Both of you. To the
Amazon's. You'll be safe. I promise." She had to do
something. Save someone. She was getting so tired of death.
Not even the clean, honest death of single combat, but a
sterile, shop-keepers sort of death, death by the numbers.
Killing by machine. And she was becoming a machine herself.

      This wasn't war, it was slaughter and she was sick of
it. She didn't care what the elders said about making the
Amazons useful to the central government. Protecting The
People wasn't worth . . .this.

      Akane's eyes cleared suddenly and she lay a hand
softly against Shan Pu's cheek. "You smell good. I think the
thing I miss most is a hot bath."

      "Come with me," Shan Pu plead, tears in her voice.
"Amazon have too, too good hot bath."

      "This is my home," Akane said simply, checking the
bolts that lay in a quiver slung to her waist. Her eyes
hardened. "Obstacles are for killing." She brushed a tear from
Shan Pu's cheek and looked at the tiny gleaming drop for a
moment. "Go back to China, Shan Pu.  Japan is not a good
place for you."

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

      "So, the 'Special' Cartography Service failed,"
Colonel Wu remarked, watching his tanks move into position.
He'd spent an hour, after Shan Pu returned, finalizing his
preparations. "I've always had my doubts about these special
forces. Infantry and armor, that's the solution."

      "Then, with your permission, I will return to my unit."

      "Oh, certainly," Wu smiled, thinking of the report he
was going to write, outlining the failure of the vaunted SCS. "I
can handle things from here."

      "Let's go," San Pu gestured and Fulin hurried to the
Land Cruiser. The Major settled in beside him and they started
back the way they had come . . .had it only been that morning?
The chatter of machine guns filled the air, followed by the
terrible thunder of tank main-guns, as Wu prepared the way
for his infantry. They were just topping a rise when a shrieking
wail filled the air and Fulin jerked around, losing control of
the four-by-four. The Major grabbed the wheel, while Fulin
looked back in horror, to see Colonel Wu pinned to the side of
a ruined building, like a butterfly in a collection, by a massive
cross-bow bolt. As he watched, Wu's scream trailed off and
his head sank to his chest, like a tired child after a hard day of
play.

      "Keep your eyes on the road," the Major said mildly,
gently turning his head to the front. "or you'll have an
accident."

      Numbly, Fulin drove on, the air filled with the sounds
of dying men . . .and a woman singing, in a pure sweet voice.


              *Sakura, Sakura.
               Yayoi no sora wa,*

      "Cherry blossoms, cherry blossoms, cherry blossoms
are everywhere," the Major softly translated.

                *mi-watasu kagiri.
                Kasumi ka kumo ka,*


      "Like a cloud from out the sky, mist of blossoms fills
the air . . ."

      Cannon thundered and masonry exploded, but the song
never faltered.

                *nioi zoi-suru.*


      "Cherries, cherries, blossoming."  Fulin tried to push
his foot through the floor, in an effort to get just a little more
speed.

                *Iza ya! Iza ya!*

           "Come and see, come and see." Tears ran down her
face as the Major stared straight ahead, expressionless as the
Sphinx.  Screams and shouts followed them past the crest of the
hill, then the desperate chatter of a heavy machine gun.

               *Mi ni yukan.*


           "Let all see and sing."


               *Sakura, sakura . . .*




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

I don't know where this one came from, but I got it in my head
and couldn't do anything else until I wrote it.

Now maybe I can finish BF and get back to Sukeban Senshi.

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                     desaix@sysnet.net
Sir Desaix, member # 116 of the Knights of the True Fiancee           
              anime  fanfics available at 
  http://www.geocities.com/zednik.geo/fanfics.htm

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