Sorry for all the delay in getting this out, but this chapter is, in a word, _very long_.

    Well, that's two words. Close enough. Enjoy!




    Process of Elimination -- Chapter Seven

    Disclaimer: The primary colors in this story are from Takahashi, Viz (Ranma 1/2), Pioneer (Tenchi Muyo!), and Kitty Films, Naoko Takeuchi (Sailor Moon).

    Additional tinting provided by: Takada Yuuzou, and A.D.Vision (Bannou Bunka Nekomusume Nuku-Nuku), and Takahashi, Viz (Inu-Yasha). The easel is mine. That's all.

    Notes: Diverges from Ranma after volume 24, continuation for OAV 2 in the Tenchi universe (well, one of them). Nuku Nuku is from the OAVs, not TV. Sailor Moon occurs, well, at some point in the series, but it's something of an alt anyway. This fic uses the bizarrely vague 'Pick One!' scenario. Enjoy.

    -----------------------------

    "I remember the Battle of Shanghai just fine. It was just after the first time I ever met that 'Ranma' guy, and he made some of the hard-asses in Mishima look tame. Boy was an animal, I tell you, he didn't stop at _nothing_ to kill a reaver. Oh, nothing, your, uh, honorable exalted eminence, uh, sir, just thought I'd mention that. You see, there was this bee near the accelerator..." [Message truncated].

    Paul Durant -- Hearing with Galaxy Police, case number TER2-656278 for a traffic violation.


    Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Tenchi watched through the viewports of the Throne, staring at a gas giant orbiting a yellow dwarf star. Something near Earth's own, if a bit harsher according to what he had been told. "So," he said softly, turning very slightly towards Ayeka, but not taking his eyes off of the planet, "what's going on here, exactly?"

    "Ah, Tenchi-sama," Ayeka responded carefully, cautious of approaching Tenchi too carefully until the... situation... involving her, Ryouko, and Tenchi was ironed out -- the last thing the Emperor of Jurai needed was more problems. "Ginraii has explained that they plan on making a change to this system. The most useful moons of the lot is that one." She gestured to a console, though the moon itself was lost in the starry blackness of the space around the giant.

    Tenchi nodded slowly. "What's wrong with the moon?"

    "Spin-lock," Ryouko muttered, sulking as she was on the cushions to one side of Tenchi, carefully maintaining the delicate triangular balance between herself, him, and Ayeka. "The moon orbits, but one side always faces the planet. Like the moon on Earth."

    Running a hand through his hair, Tenchi said, "Well, that might not be too bad, I guess... what else is wrong with it?"

    Ayeka did not hide the small smile that formed as she noted Tenchi's quick grasp of things. In time, he would doubtlessly become a fine emperor. Ryouko droned on as if bored, "The giant, Cyaga, has an unstable magnetic field. It shifts constantly, and when it does, a magnetic storm ravages the moons, impairing their ability to deflect the sun's radiation."

    "Oh. Is there anything that can be done about it?" Tenchi asked, squinting his eyes in vain to see the as-of-yet-unnamed moon.

    "Yes, Tenchi-sama," Ayeka informed him after Ryouko shrugged indifferently, "but a field generator would only go so far..."

    Tenchi grimaced. "So what are they doing about it? We have a lot of things that we need to do, after all -- looking at a pretty planet might not be the best thing to do with our time."

    Ayeka nodded. It was indeed a pretty planet, foreign vapors swirling in a pleasant greenish-blue color. Almost like a ball of water. But it wasn't water -- it was a great many gasses, the majority of them toxic. A knock came at the door before Ayeka could answer. Frowning, but quickly masking the expression, she gestured it open.

    Bowing politely as he entered, clad in his robes of state and attended by his ever-present guardians, Genoh strode into the room. "Masaki-sama," he bowed politely again to Ayeka. "Amatera-sama," he said again, bowing to Tenchi.

    Ayeka bit back a yell of anger at the comment. The man likely meant well. "Laruma-san," she informed him, "Tenchi-sama is a Masaki, as well."

    Genoh glanced at her for a moment, and then turned his attention to Tenchi. "Of course. My apologies, Masaki-sama."

    Tenchi waved a hand dismissively. "Just call me Tenchi," he said, relaxed. "When it's not a formal situation, like now, it's okay."

    The Laruma blinked, apparently taken off guard. He covered by clapping his hands once, summoning his aide. The aide in question was a boy, younger than Genoh, but with similar features. His own guardians were absent, and he bore a heavy ledger, quill poised to scribe. "Yes?" he asked hesitantly.

    Genoh gestured to the boy, saying, "My younger brother, Laruma Karau. He is aspiring to be the new clan historian, so I wished for him to be here for the occasion."

    "What occasion?" Tenchi asked, frowning.

    "Why, the naming of the new planet, of course. 'Cyaga-2' is a name that's somewhat lacking, you must admit."

    Tenchi frowned dourly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Genoh," he said frankly, "I have a lot to do -- my people are still almost all trapped on our planet, and I need to spend every moment I can fighting in the only way that I have right now to get them back. Please, what's this all about?"

    Genoh colored slightly, and gestured towards the planet once more. "Ah... right. Sorry, then. We're asking you for your aid in the endeavor, to open a Gate via the Throne. We've assembled something many years ago, in the Masagari system, and need help to transport them here. "

    "Assembled what?" Tenchi asked guardedly, uncrossing his arms to let them drop to his sides.

    "A pair of monopoles, each of them a grand sixty thousand kilometers in length."

    Tenchi raised an eyebrow, though Ayeka guessed that there would be no way for Tenchi to know what a monopole was. Ryouko looked at Genoh curiously, her attention caught for the moment. "So," the new emperor drawled, "what do you plan to do with them?"

    Staring blankly, Genoh was only able to blink for a long moment. "Oh," he said, catching himself, and looking at the planet again. "We intend to sink the poles into the giant, using them to force its magnetic fields to a stable standard. They'll anchor against Cyaga's sun's own magnetic fields, thus shielding the moon's magnetosphere over the course of some years."

    Tenchi sighed, turning away from Genoh, to look at the screen again. "Years is a long time," he grumbled.

    "But the magnetic fields would be adjusted almost instantly," Ryouko pointed out. "The tidal forces would take forever to sort themselves out from within the planet's own atmospheres, but if you're overriding the magnetic fields with your own, the change is nearly instantaneous."

    "Exactly right," Genoh said, nodding quickly. "We'll have to adjust the moon's magnetosphere ourselves, to perfect it, but we can easily adjust Cyaga-2's rotation to be stable, and mimic the rotational periods of your own 'Earth', and then some terraforming to further perfect the planet's ecosystems... The point is, save that it's orbiting a gas giant, and then that star." Genoh paused to gesture to the nameless sun. "It should mimic the conditions of your own planet closely, since the gravity is one point... ah... zero five times your own planet's, even if the moon is somewhat larger itself." He paused again, considering, then nodded. "We're creating this world and system, once we move the monopoles into place, as a refuge and haven for the Amatera we're indebted to. We ask that you, as evidence suggests that you carry some Amatera blood, name this moon for your people."

    Tenchi stared at the planet for a long, silent moment, contemplating, and considering his answer before he spoke. "Terra Two," he said at length. "It's not home, but if you're willing to try to make it closer, I can't complain."

    ***

    Screen after screen of information scrolled by, most of it far faster than any of the men in the small conference room could read. As the reams of information came to a sudden halt, the redheaded scientist pointed to a specific chart with a short stick, explaining calmly, "The decoy will not be activated until we reach Shanghai -- three days from now -- and remove as many innocents to safety as possible. Satellite imagery suggests that the city is deserted, and because of that, intact. I'm not yet sure where the Chinese government moved the populous, but with the city essentially at our disposal, I should be able to create -- within a day or so of arrival -- a gate with enough range to take everyone to, say, Australia. Then we can activate the decoy, taking a much smaller and faster moving force to the Joketsuzoku controlled territory, which is... here." She gestured to the Bayakala mountain range.

    Norris shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "So we're going to have to abandon our fleet, aren't we?"

    Washuu nodded, staring at the screen. "I'm afraid so. It's simply not feasible for me to try and devise a way to move the entire fleet ashore. I could do it, but we lack the lab I'd need to do it quickly, and I'm going to be busy enough creating a gateway to Australia."

    Patterson, to Norris's left, spoke up, frowning in consternation, "Couldn't we just use your 'gate' to head immediately to the 'Joketsuzoku' territory?"

    The scientist blinked, considering, then answered, "Well, it's possible, yes, but I wanted to leave the gate set to Australia, so that we could send any refugees we found to it, and allow them to evacuate, and taking the beacon through the gate would hinder its effectiveness."

    "Isn't there a risk that the reavers could use it, too?" Norris added, eyeing the map skeptically.

    "Yes, it's entirely possible, but for that, I can simply add a sign and a button -- the reavers won't know how to activate the gate, even if it's just a simple button-press. So refugees can activate the gate safely, and we can send people to it without worry. But the beacon should distract them from that being an issue." Washuu nodded to herself, rubbing absently at the bracelet on her right wrist.

    The bracelet that allowed her to speak with Ranma, Norris remembered. "That seems more reasonable than trying to have everyone walk," he allowed. "I'm not exactly keen on abandoning the fleet, but if what you say is true, they won't last long anyway."

    Cologne shrugged, speaking up from where she had remained so far, mostly in silence, "Weapons are tools, and when their time comes to an end, you must set them aside."

    Norris nodded. "I understand that," he said, "but I've a sworn duty. I'll follow you, and I'll lay odds most of my men will as well. Any who don't can be sent to Australia with the duty of policing the people." He paused, eyeing the charts. "We have three days before we reach land, and I understand that you've created a distiller -- I've had it set on a smaller fishing boat, and we're using it to make water drops throughout the fleet, supplementing our own contributions." The man raked a hand through his hair, shaking his head and setting his military cap on the table before him. "I must say, you have our most profound gratitude -- this is an ill conceived mission, and we'd likely not make it without your help."

    "Don't be so sure we'll make it anyway," Washuu muttered dourly. "We still have to fight the reavers, and I haven't yet come up with anything we can do to make your ordinance any more effective against them."

    Patterson frowned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "What about some kind of higher velocity HEAP round?" he asked.

    Washuu hedged for a moment, unsure, then explained slowly, "I don't know if I can change what you have enough to be a significant threat to the reavers... it would take an immeasurably dense shell to pierce their carapace, and conventional explosives would do minimal damage, at best."

    "Well," Norris offered thoughtfully, "we have three Phalanx CIWS onboard the ship--"

    "I'm sorry, Mr. Norris," Washuu said respectfully, "I'm not familiar with that."

    "Oh, ah, Phalanx Close-In Weapons Systems. They're twenty-millimeter cannons about the ship -- they can fire nearly five thousand rounds per minute, and use APDS -- sorry, Armor Piercing Discarding Sabot, Depleted Uranium sub-caliber rounds. I suppose the forward-looking infrared and auto-tracking systems would be useless to you, but surely something that powerful would be able to stop a reaver."

    The scientist seemed confused for the merest moment, then shrugged, summoning the transparent console she consulted with when in doubt. "How much force do they impact with?" she asked. "What's the approximate surface area of a round?"

    "I'm not sure," Patterson picked up, when Norris was unable to answer, "but they can punch through triple strength battleship plating. That's enough to stop a reaver, isn't it?"

    "I doubt it," Washuu said dryly. "A bigger gun isn't the answer, and if it is, then they'll just develop thicker hides because of it -- you'd need baby black holes as projectiles to accomplish what you want, and I'm not even willing to consider development in those areas. What can stop then at the moment is radiation, and intense cold. Unless I miss my guess, those are two forces that the reavers are unable to counter."

    Norris waved a hand dismissively, confidently stating, "We have nuclear strike capabilities. Nukes will stop reavers, won't they?"

    Washuu frowned doubtfully. "I really don't like that idea very much. They're dangerous and primitive weapons, at the best..." She trailed off, smiling brightly. "The lasers. We can have Ranma bring them down -- we don't have the position, but if I can recode them manually... I can reassemble the nuclear weapons you have to power them!"

    Norris and Patterson exchanged a glance. "You think that you can create some kind of laser gun for us to use? We're Navy, not Army... but if you think it can stop a reaver, I'm game," Norris declared, not giving Patterson a chance to object. "As I've said before, you're our best chance of getting through this alive."

    "I don't know if that will work as you've envisioned it, but I can try, right?" Washuu smiled, glancing at Cologne before tapping her bracelet. "Ranma?" she said quietly. "If you've got a moment, can you please lend me a hand with something?"

    A tingling surge in her senses, and the soft sensation of displaced air rushing across her met the request, as Ranma teleported to her side, casting about warily and rubbing the gem in his wrist. "Yeah?" he asked. "What do you need?" Ran-oh-ki rested uneasily atop his head, making a soft noise as he tried to nap.

    Washuu blinked, glancing briefly at Cologne again before turning back to Ranma. "Ranma, do you remember the satellites that were used to slow the reavers down?"

    "'Course I remember," Ranma grumbled. "It was only yesterday. What about them?"

    Washuu took a deep, slow breath. "Ranma, I'd like you to go get them, and bring them back intact."

    Ranma scratched the back of his head, frowning. "I dunno," he said warily. "They're pretty high up, and from what I hear, space is a pretty big place. Will the rat help me find them?" His partner growled at the comment, but made no further move to respond.

    She nodded thoughtfully, eyeing Ranma up and down again. "Yes, your partner should be able to spot them easily -- you can keep in touch with me through your gem, if you have any questions."

    The boy blinked at her, frowning. "How?" he asked. "I can live without air just fine, but I think I still need it to talk, don't I?"

    Washuu smiled, then shook her head, explaining, "You'll see when you get there... it should be completely safe, and I think Yosho wanted to talk to you when you came back. Something about training."

    "Oh?" Ranma asked, raising an eyebrow. "Okay, then, I guess I'll go get the satellites for you. Where do you want me to put them?"

    "In the lab that Norris-san has set aside for me, where Ran-oh-ki ate the remnants of the two jet fighters, if they fit. Otherwise, the deck is fine."

    Ranma nodded easily, floating into the air a short distance, but pausing to look at Cologne. "Go on, Son," she said, making a shoeing motion with one hand as he waited. "Hurry back, and if you impress Yosho, maybe I'll teach you a new trick when you get back."

    With no sound at all, Ranma vanished. Norris shook his head, wondering. "What kind of power does that boy possess?" he asked sternly, eyeing Washuu. "And is it dangerous to us?"

    The scientist bristled, but Cologne spoke before she could. "Only as dangerous as a single man in charge of an entire fleet is," she remarked casually.

    Norris held his tongue, considering that.

    ***

    Ranma teleported above the clouds over the fleet, eyeing the coast of Japan in the distance, and the shining blue expanses of ocean surrounding the ships below. One hand rose to cautiously pluck Ran-oh-ki from atop his head, tucking the creature in the crook of his arm. "Okay," he said shakily. "Let's see just how far we can jump, eh, rat?"

    Ran-oh-ki made a quiet mewling noise, as Ranma pointed at the moon, faintly visible off the horizon. "I'm going to go as far in that direction as I can," he declared resolutely.

    The familiar sense of displacement surged through him, more powerful this time than it had once been, and when it left him, he found himself with a mouthful of incredibly dusty and dry grit. "Bleah!" he spat, pushing himself off of the dusty gray surface to float a short distance away from it.

    "Where the hell is this?" he grunted, as Ran-oh-ki burrowed out from a particularly lumpy mound of dirt, bright eyes staring about in confusion. "Okay," Ranma allowed, as Ran-oh-ki leapt into his arms after shaking and loosing the dust in his fur. "I messed that one up. Where do you think we are?"

    The pair of them peered about the landscape. Broken gray stone and largely featureless dusty plain surrounded him, lending Ranma an eerie sense of deja vu. Ran-oh-ki mewled angrily, clawing his way up to Ranma's shoulder to glare about and hiss at nothing in particular.

    Ranma shivered, knowing what his partner was thinking without needing to test the link. "Yeah," he said, "this place is dead, isn't it?"

    Ran-oh-ki nodded without looking at Ranma. On a sudden impulse, Ranma slowly looked up.

    And beheld, shining directly above him, more beautiful than any sight he had seen before, the Earth, momentarily at peace, and gloriously pristine in its beauty.

    He felt, more than sensed through the link, Ran-oh-ki's hackles lower, as his partner gazed at the sight in the same admiration. The line of shadow from the Earth -- daylight passing into darkness -- was the sunset, far east of Japan.

    Washuu's voice sounded, as Ranma belatedly jerked his attention away from the sight. "Yeah, Washuu?" he asked, voice slightly thickened with the sight of his home, for the first time seen from outside.

    "Ranma? Are you okay? Where are you?"

    "Uh," Ranma hesitantly admitted, "I wanted to test out how far I could teleport..."

    "And?" Washuu asked patiently.

    "I shot for the moon," he mumbled.

    For a long moment, Washuu was entirely silent, but when she spoke again, there was a telltale trace of amusement in her tone. "Oh, well, you have a bit more range than I expected you to have given your current level of maturity, but be careful not to go too far. Your partner should be able to tell you where you are in relation to Earth instantly."

    Ran-oh-ki made a quiet, guilty noise, as the blue gem in his forehead winked, and Ranma's mind was flooded with information about the planet, and the moon beneath him. "Oh," he said, dizzied from the rush of knowledge. "I see where I am, now... I could teleport anywhere, like this," he mused.

    "The satellites?" Washuu reminded him gently.

    "Oh, uh, hey, I can sense them, this'll be easy..." With that, he again traveled without moving, halting some distance between Earth and the moon. The seas were spread below him, to his right, and to his left, the bulk of Asia. Japan was little more than a large block of land, easily dwarfed by the titanic landmass to the west. He shook his head sadly, and turned his attention to the three satellites in tight formation only a short distance beneath him.

    Sleek, black, and lined with tiny winking lights and solar panels, the satellites looked to be compact, sturdy affairs that spoke of danger from their very designs. Each had a decently sized dish for receiving signal from below, and then a much more sinister and tightly compact cylinder that was rimmed in small spiky needles. The tubes spoke of danger and death, Ranma knew instinctively that they were the weapons he was looking for. Ran-oh-ki had informed him of the locations of other things in the space above the Earth -- weather satellites and the like, he assumed -- and things that his partner had named.

    Whatever they had named themselves. "'Mishima-00 AVGR'," he mused, wondering how Ran-oh-ki had known to name it. Indeed, when he looked closely, there was a small plaque on the side of the satellite bearing the name, branding, and contact information. "'For service, contact Paul Durant'," he mumbled, tracing the brass lettering gently with his fingertips. "Huh. I wonder how much these things weigh," he pondered, sizing up the satellite again.

    Easily five meters across, and another ten in height, it wasn't small by any stretch. Shaped like a smooth, ovoid, save for the breaks where the barrel of the laser and the small dish sat, and smaller ports that he couldn't identify, he guessed they would weigh quite a bit. He idly wished he could remember learning about outer space from school, but banished the wishful thoughts after a moment -- anything he would have learned would likely turn to be irrelevant, as he was evidently able to surround himself with a small pocket of atmosphere.

    "First time for everything," he mused, gripping it as well as he could near the base. Teleporting back to the ship left him more drained than he had initially expected, and the mass of steel and black ceramic in his hands grew heavy.

    Only by straining, and staggering backwards a half step across the deck was he able to maintain his hold, grunting. "Hey, Washuu," he wheezed, "where do you want me to put..." He trailed off, as the weight suddenly reversed, leaving the satellite to float a few inches above the deck.

    Blinking, he stepped back staring upwards. Ran-oh-ki sat comfortably atop the structure, peering down at Ranma with a nearly smug expression. Washuu spoke from behind him, "Oh, well, I was thinking a few more meters to your left, but that'll do, Ranma." Ranma spun to watch the woman, eyeing the satellite closely, and attended by a good number of official looking men in uniform. Behind her were the rows of refugees in their tents, a few of them staring with jaws agape at the boy that had appeared, ten meter steel ovoid in tow on the deck.

    He tried to ignore them -- enough time for worrying about that later. "Uh, okay, so the rat can keep it from falling. What about the other two?"

    Washuu smirked, tossing a small disk to the deck beneath the satellite. The disk spun on edge directly beneath the satellite, each face marked with the scientist's signature brilliant red crab symbol. A slow glow suffused the satellite from below, as Ran-oh-ki hopped to the deck, bouncing from it and up to Ranma's shoulder. The satellite remained suspended, revolving very slowly.

    Ranma blinked, frowning. "What do you need this for, anyway?" he asked.

    The red-haired woman clicked her tongue at him, already tapping away at her computer terminal. "Something that might give us a very slightly better chance, Ranma," she murmured. "I might be able to fashion some weapons for Norris and his men."

    "Okay," Ranma answered, shrugging. "I'll get the others."

    In short order, pausing with each visit to orbit to admire the Earth, Ranma had aligned the three satellites in a neat row, though he was worried at the high number of red lights from unit 02. Washuu frowned at it, confirming Ranma's suspicions that the lights were a bad sign. "Drat," she grumbled, looking at some of the indecipherable streams of data on her computer screen.

    "What's wrong?" Ranma asked, moments before Norris could do the same.

    Washuu waved a hand dismissively, as Ran-oh-ki inquisitively leapt from Ranma's shoulder to nuzzle her ankle. She smiled at the creature for a moment, then returned to frowning at the display. "Well," she said, eyes flickering about the screen as she considered, "it should be something I can repair. It just tells me that these weapons are much more delicate than I'd like them to be."

    Ranma frowned thoughtfully, staring at the constructs, while his partner began sniffing curiously at the first of the undamaged pair. Nuku bounced out of the mass of refugee tents, distracting Ranma, and trailed by a small crowd of giggling children.

    He watched her until she crossed the distance between the two, catching her easily as she launched into a hug that would have toppled him, were he not braced for it. "Ranma-papa-san!" she caroled happily. "Are you feelings better now? Nuku-Nuku doesn't like when papa-san is unhappy." She frowned, peering closely into his eyes, searching for some sign of unhappiness.

    Smiling softly, Ranma ruffled her hair. "Nah, I'm fine, Atsuko. Who're the kids?" he asked, as she released the hug, and turned to look at the children. For their part, the children had paused in a small cluster -- five of them, he noted -- to stare at Ranma with something akin to awe.

    "Oh!" Nuku squealed happily, pointing to them, "These are Nuku-Nuku's new friends, they were playing tag with Nuku-Nuku!" She paused, suddenly worried, and looked at Ranma with concern. "Can Nuku-Nuku play with them, Ranma-papa-san?"

    Off balance from the pleading gaze the girl shot to him, Ranma nodded swiftly. "Of course. Why couldn't you?"

    "Thank you, papa-san!" Nuku chirped, not answering his question, and bounding back to the tents, followed by four of the giggling children.

    The last remained, and Ranma became aware that Norris and his men, and Washuu, had fallen silent, studying the interaction. Nervous and confused about being the center of attention, Ranma glanced at them for a bare moment, turning his attention to the one child remaining. A slightly dirty little boy -- though Ranma wondered where he had found dirt so far at sea -- probably no more than six years old, with sandy blond hair. "Are you a monster?" he asked suddenly in infantile English, though Ranma only understood through the translator.

    "Yeah," he said after a long moment, noting the silence from Norris's group and Washuu. "I am."

    "But," the child declared knowingly, "you fought the bad monsters, so you must be a _good_ monster!"

    Ranma scratched behind his ear nervously, managing a weak smile. "I'd like to think so," he said softly.

    "Yes," the child said, nodding again, "you're the good guy, 'cause you stop the bad monsters. I want to be like you when I grow up!" With that, the child spun, and darted back towards the tents, disappearing long before Ranma could collect his wits and regain his composure.

    ***

    Washuu smiled at the departing child, then again at Ranma, as he stood dumbstruck at the child's words. Perhaps, just perhaps, the scientist thought, the child's words would help in a capacity that her own had failed.

    Turning her attention back to Norris, she explained, "I have to rework these so that they will be small enough to be carried by hand, and ensure that they don't have any disastrous side-effects towards your own men."

    Norris nodded quickly in agreement. "I don't need a weapon that kills us as easily as the enemy."

    "Oh, it's no less dangerous," Washuu said, shaking her head. "Make sure you trust who you assign whatever weapons I make from these. Oh, and I'll need access to your nuclear weapons so that I can build power-supplies."

    The American men stared at her flatly for a long moment, before Norris grudgingly allowed, "I'm not thrilled at the prospect, but not trusting you won't benefit any of us."

    Washuu's smile returned, as she stared at the three monolithic constructs on the deck before her. "Okay, first, I'm going to need to add a few things to the lab you gave me..."

    Norris groaned quietly.

    ***

    Yosho awaited Ranma's approach, hands clasped calmly behind him. Ranma glanced at the man, frowning curiously.

    "Hello, Ranma," Yosho said genially, producing a pair of bokken. "I'd like, if you're willing, to train you a little more in the art of the blade."

    Ranma stared at the bokken, silent for a moment. "I learned kendo," he said slowly. "Pops had me learn a few basics from some people he knew in Japan when I was a kid."

    Yosho nodded approval, handing one of the bokken to Ranma. "That's good, it should help a bit in learning what I want to teach you. What style of kendo did you learn, if I might ask?"

    Swinging the bokken experimentally, Ranma easily replied, "I learned the Hyoho Niten Ichi, and Yagyu Shinkage schools."

    "Yagyu Shinkage, you say?" Yosho asked quietly.

    Ranma nodded. "Pops knew someone who was out and down on his luck, and still taught the Edo variant, and he was willing to teach me in exchange for Pop's help rebuilding his dojo."

    "I'm impressed," Yosho admitted.

    Grinning toothily, Ranma shrugged, waving the bokken experimentally. "Yeah, well, Pops said that I should know how to use weapons -- all of them -- and if I knew them better, I'd be able to fight them better without weapons."

    Yosho nodded judiciously, slipping into the basic stance of the Masaki style. "Very well, Ranma. What I'm going to teach you is a secret traditionally only passed through the sons of the Masaki family."

    Ranma stared, blinking. "It's a secret school?" he asked, intrigued.

    "Yes," Yosho said, measuring his words carefully. "I have taught what I wish to show you to only one person in the last twenty years, and that was my grandson, Tenchi. Obviously, I'll need to wait until I can be sure no one else can see us before I teach you any of the deeper secrets, but I can show you some of the basics right now."

    The warrior had no need to tell Ranma how much the offer to teach the secret art meant insofar as trust. The boy seemed to grasp it instantly, and raised his eyebrows in curiosity. "How old are you?" he asked cautiously.

    Yosho grinned unabashedly. "Old enough to have met the founders of both the schools of kendo you know, Ranma. Now, prepare yourself!"

    With that, Ranma slipped into a defensive stance, somewhere between the two schools he had learned, and barely managed to deflect Yosho's initial strike, failing completely to blow the next four strikes as they battered him to the ground.

    "Not bad," Yosho said, offering a hand to Ranma as he lay on the deck, shocked and dazed.

    "Woah," Ranma said, climbing to his feet quickly with Yosho's assistance. "That was fast..."

    Yosho smirked, but hid the expression quickly behind a mask of patience. "I've got a lot more experience, Ranma. It'll take you some time to reach my level. Now, your level of control is impressive enough that I'll spare you the more basic drills. Watch my feet, I want you to copy this stance..."

    ***

    Ami watched Ranma train. The boy, despite his odd ears, and sharply pointed teeth, and nearly glowing eyes, possessed a certain savage beauty, and an even more savage grace.

    He and Yosho trained, though in Ami's eyes, it was more Yosho beating on Ranma with a stick. Every so often Ranma would rise from being beaten to the ground, and nod thoughtfully, suggesting that he, at least, found the training educational.

    It was not her preferred method of learning, but she had to admit that she was impressed. At her side, Rei watched as well, her eyes unfocused enough to tell Ami that any anger Rei bore for Ranma grabbing her in the prior night's battle was entirely forgiven.

    She sat on the deck of the ship, and a moment later, Rei joined her. "Wow," the black-haired girl commented, watching Ranma and Yosho flow through stances side-by side. It was a slow, incredibly slow process to watch, but Ranma was actually learning to deflect more and more of Yosho's attacks, though in Ami's estimation, it would take ages at Ranma's rate to actually score a hit on the man.

    "Hmm?" Ami noised guardedly. The situation between the senshi was somewhat tense at the moment, though none faulted Makoto beyond making a simple mistake.

    Rei shook her head, absently brushing back a stray strand of black hair as she continued to watch the men square off. "I'm impressed," she admitted after a moment. "Look at how fast they are... how carefully they move. I thought..." she trailed off, shaking her head. "I thought he was a monster the first time we saw him -- that he was trying to kidnap Hotaru..." She sighed suddenly, cocking her head to look at Ami directly. "After... after what we were told, I feel very sorry for him."

    Ami pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I do not know that he would like to hear that," she opined. "He's very strong, you must admit, to have weathered what he has. The story that Hibiki-san and his friend have told us... I suspect that there's more that either they don't know, or refuse to speak of. They never _did_ explain why Ranma-san acted so strangely in the battle against the reavers." Or why he had no family name, but Ami remembered the night of the battle and Ranma's angry comments along those lines well enough not to ask. Likely, the other senshi who had witnessed would know to hold their tongues in that regard, as well.

    Squinting, Rei turned to study Ranma again. "I suppose so," she said after a moment. "He is pretty strong to still be fighting after all that."

    The two fell silent, simply watching, until Minako drifted to sit with them, watching Ranma studiously. "Wow," the blonde said, without preamble, "he'd make a great senshi, if he were a girl."

    Rei snickered softly, glancing towards the newcomer briefly, before turning back to watch Ranma train. "A new senshi? I don't think he'd like hearing that nearly as much," she whispered.

    Minako pouted, saying, "I think I got that one right, even if I sometimes get all the small things wrong."

    Ami shook her head, smiling softly herself, as Ranma and Yosho broke apart. Neither seemed exhausted, but an air of slight fatigue still hung over them.

    Yosho smiled broadly, and nodded his approval, speaking something too quietly for the girls to hear, and Ranma shrugged, following the older man away from their training area on the rear of the ship. The same place that Ranma had battled Ryu, Ami remembered vividly.

    The crater from Ryu's impact was a short distance behind the girls, directly in the path of Ranma and Yosho as they strode forward. Yosho paused within a few paces of the girls, who hurriedly rose to their feet. As they stood, Yosho nodded at them dubiously, asking, "What brings you here?"

    "Ah, Yosho-san," Ami said quickly, before Minako had a chance to answer, "we've come to apologize to Ranma-san."

    Ranma blinked, and Yosho frowned very slightly. "What for?" Ranma asked guardedly.

    Ami bowed her head apologetically, explaining, "Makoto-chan overreacted, and she shouldn't have... shouldn't have done what she did. I'm very sorry that she lost her temper."

    Ranma looked away, his expression colored angrily. "Not her fault. She saw someone she cared about getting beaten up by a monster," he spat. "I'd do the same thing, I bet."

    "Um," Minako interrupted, before Ranma could walk away, "I don't think you're a monster." Ranma blinked at her, and she smiled in return, adding, "If you are, you're one of the cutest monsters I've ever seen!"

    Ranma stared, unsure of how to take that, while Rei added her own words, "I admit, I was a little angry that you thought that we needed to be protected... but I know that you're doing your best to stop the... reavers? I know that you're fighting them, and I'm sorry that this happened, too."

    Collecting his wits, Ranma shook his head, edging slightly away, while Yosho simply watched the exchange carefully. "It's not your fault," the boy said simply. "I guess no hard feelings." With that, he strode away, followed shortly by Yosho.

    Rei frowned, looking after the pair as they wandered off, and mused aloud, "Is he sure? I still don't think he's happy with us."

    "Well," Minako spoke philosophically, "they say that time heals all words."

    Ami sighed, shaking her head. "That's close enough, I suppose."

    ***

    Michiru sat on one edge of a bed in the infirmary, just across the room from Makoto and Ryu, Haruka pacing slowly before them. Hotaru sat on the bed with Michiru, watching the both of them tiredly.

    Haruka came to an abrupt halt, turning to look at her green-tressed companion. "What do you suppose we should do?" she mused. "We need to apologize to this 'Ranma', right? I suppose it didn't help very much when we overreacted a bit to Hotaru being alone with him."

    Nodding slowly, Michiru ran a hand through Hotaru's hair, carefully smoothing a mussed strand back into place. "Yes," she said faintly, sounding distracted and distant. "We probably didn't help matters, but what can we do to sort things back out?"

    Hotaru smiled softly, cocking her head to one side and glancing at Makoto surreptitiously. "I have an idea," she said quietly. "Can I try talking to him?"

    Michiru frowned dubiously, but looked to Haruka for guidance. For her part, Haruka was uncomfortable with the idea. She didn't trust any boys around Hotaru in general, for the most part, and non-human demon-boys that were apparently strong enough to withstand senshi attacks with only slight singeing were worse. Never mind the oddity of his apparently confused gender.

    "I don't know," Haruka said slowly. "I suppose if we go with you..."

    Hotaru pouted fiercely, sniffling. "You don't trust me?"

    Haruka and Michiru winced in tandem. The girl was not given to tantrums or begging, generally, but she had a wicked finesse for having her way when she truly wanted it. Deciding to save herself some modicum of trouble, Haruka offered a compromise. "Okay, Hotaru-chan, just... be careful, and don't talk to him alone."

    "That's okay," Hotaru assured them, "I'll talk to him with his daughter!"

    Michiru's face turned pale. "Ranma has a daughter?"

    Surprisingly, it was Makoto who answered, just then sitting on her cot, and starring at her feet dejectedly, "I think so. She calls him 'Ranma-papa-san'... but then, Hotaru calls you 'papa-san', doesn't she?"

    Hotaru beamed a smile at Makoto and nodded confirmation.

    "I think we should investigate further," Haruka opined. "I know... I know... we have to apologize to him, we have to work with him... but... I'm sorry, I've never met him beyond that one glimpse, and what little I've heard about him."

    Jumping down from the bed carefully, Hotaru shrugged. "Mako-chan?" she asked. "Can you help me with something?"

    Haruka would dearly have loved to listen closer, but was distracted by Setsuna. The woman had an oddly pale expression as she strode through the door, and beckoned both Haruka and Michiru to follow her.

    Michiru shrugged, attending swiftly as Setsuna marched down the hall a short distance, and stopped abruptly, turning to regard the two others frankly. "What's wrong?" Haruka asked.

    Setsuna waved a hand, furtively glancing around to make sure that they were -- for the moment -- unobserved. "Okay," she said in a low tone, "I thought I'd left well enough alone, and irreparable damage might have been done to the time stream, given recent events."

    Both Michiru and Haruka nodded, understanding easily Setsuna's meaning. "However," the woman continued, "when I used the time gate to see what damage was done to Crystal Tokyo..." She paused, heaving a shuddering breath. "I don't understand it, entirely, but the road is both cleared _and_ more tenuous."

    "What?" Haruka asked, not quite understanding. "How can it be both?"

    Setsuna shook her head, obviously frustrated. "As far as I can tell," she grumbled in annoyance, "the recent events are putting us on course for what _should_ happen next, even though our route is becoming more dangerous."

    Michiru nodded slowly in understanding. "So this is supposed to have happened?"

    Nodding unhappily, Setsuna explained, "What Yosho told us might actually be true. I don't know _how_... and I don't _want_ to believe it, but impossibly enough, it seems true. Somehow, these 'Juraians' that he spoke of are part of the destiny that will eventually lead us to... Crystal Tokyo."

    "And the Silence," Michiru noted.

    "We don't know that for certain -- it might not happen," Setsuna countered, waving the mention off with a wave of her hand. "Now, if you remember, I was looking for an answer to what damage was done in the past with our friend, the rogue time-traveler."

    Haruka shook her head. "No, I don't remember," she muttered, unhappy at Setsuna's easy dismissal of the possible Silence.

    Setsuna blinked, then quickly explained the story to the pair. "After that, I returned here, but seeing... Seeing Usagi change, I decided to see if I could consult with my future self on current events."

    "And?" Michiru prompted, growing impatient.

    "I've found the damage," Setsuna sighed, exasperated, "but there's no way I can remove it. Unfortunately, the damage is now _integral_ towards preserving Crystal Tokyo."

    "What is the 'damage', anyway?" Haruka asked, exchanging a worried glance with Michiru.

    Setsuna produced a worn, ancient scroll. "I took this from a building in Tokyo that was destroyed yesterday," she explained, unfurling it and pointing to the very first listing.

    "It's a family register," Haruka noted dutifully.

    "Yes," Setsuna sighed, shaking her head, "and the first name on the register is Higurashi Kagome, who married an Inu-Yasha, in... fifteen hundred thirty-two."

    "Uh-huh," Michiru commented disinterestedly.

    Haruka nodded her agreement to Michiru's impatience. "What are you trying to tell us, Setsuna?" she asked.

    Setsuna rolled her eyes, pointing further down the list. "As you can see here," she explained, "a descendant, Higurashi Kaneda married one... Saotome Hikaru."

    Both Haruka and Michiru exchanged a glance, turning back to look at Setsuna and asking in tandem, "And?"

    Furling the scroll back carefully, Setsuna chastised, "Don't you remember who 'Kagome' and 'Inu-Yasha' were? The amateur time-traveler?"

    "Oh," Michiru said, frowning thoughtfully. "But what does that change?"

    "Two things," Setsuna grumbled in irritation. "Firstly, Inu-Yasha was the amateur time-traveler's pet half-demon. That means that her bloodline likely contains the blood of demons."

    Haruka paused, considering, and frowned darkly. "Saotome... okay, well, do we know any Saotome? And what risks does that pose upon us, anyway?"

    "I don't know entirely," Setsuna admitted. "Five hundred years would do an awful lot to dilute the bloodline to the point of... well, negligibility."

    "Of course," Michiru said disinterestedly. "I'm still not seeing the point of all this, though."

    "Well, Kagome charged her descendants -- all of them -- to become as skilled and proficient as possible in all forms of the martial arts, specifically to be strong enough to fight the reavers. While the reason was apparently forgotten, the duty was not. It's a reasonable assumption that if we _can_ find another 'Saotome' -- the last name recorded on _this_ scroll is a Saotome Genma -- we'll have an ally that can see us through this mess without having to rely on... Ranma. According to my future self, at least, our success depends on allying with whoever it is that this scroll should lead us to."

    "Oh," Haruka mumbled, considering. It was true that having a human ally would be a tremendous advantage over the dubious aid of the entirely unknown Ranma... "Okay, well, how do we find him? Or her?"

    "I'm not entirely sure," Setsuna admitted. "A lot of my resources are tapped out, but I'll see what I can dig up. In the meantime, you two can see what you can find out."

    Michiru and Haruka nodded, slowly formulating a plan.

    ***

    Nuku eyed the two girls before her warily. One of them she thought she could trust -- she smelled nice, and looked friendly. The other one... the other one had _hurt_ her Ranma, and she didn't trust _that_ one very much at all...

    But it would be mean to ignore both of them, simply because she didn't trust the one -- and the first smelled too honest to be mean to. "Okay," she said at length, curious. "What do you want to do for Ranma-papa-san?"

    The brown-haired girl rubbed at her eyebrows, frowning thoughtfully. "Well," she began, glancing around, "I think I need... need to apologize to Ranma-san for... for what I did. I think this is the best way to make that apology."

    Nuku nodded slowly, and said, "Okay. But Nuku-Nuku gets to help!"

    ***

    "Anyway," Ranma grumbled, "I _am_ feeling a bit hungry... where do you think we can find some food around here?"

    "Well," Yosho mused, "there's probably some kind of cafeteria or mess hall for the soldiers here, but..." The man trailed off, blinking with Ranma at the sight that awaited them next.

    Nuku, Hotaru, and Makoto stood in a neat row, each carrying a large, carefully wrapped bento. Makoto looked guilty, unable to meet his eyes, while Hotaru and Nuku simply grinned with a childish, gleeful innocence. "Um," Ranma drawled, "this is new... what's going on here?"

    Makoto spoke first, taking a hesitant step closer. "I... I wanted to apologize, and... I know it's not much, but I..." she trailed off, swallowing nervously. Taking a deep breath, she blurted out, "I'm really sorry I lost my temper and made you this to apologize, and I didn't even make Ryu anything, so please take it!" With that, she held the box forward, bowing her head.

    Ranma blinked, stunned, while Hotaru chimed in, "I made you lunch too, Ranma-san, Mako-chan taught me!"

    "Nuku-Nuku made Ranma-papa-san something to eat, too!" Nuku exclaimed happily.

    "Uh..." Ranma managed, stalling for a moment, as Cologne arrived, followed by Mousse -- who was carrying a large 'Nekohanten' delivery box. Ryouga trailed behind shortly, offering Ranma a wry grin.

    The old woman eyed the three girls with their proffered lunches, and smirked widely. "I see my idea wasn't so original after all," she commented.

    "You're telling me," a new voice added from behind Ranma. "I thought I was being clever!" The boy turned around, seeing Washuu carrying a covered tray of her own. She offered him a sardonic grin, explaining, "Can't blame a girl for trying!"

    Ranma looked around slowly, noting the younger girls growing nervous as they waited for him to make some kind of choice, and the three other girls from earlier approaching curiously. A choice, where he was expected to pick just one. "Okay," he said slowly, considering his options very carefully. "Give me a moment..." Coming to a swift decision, he stepped-forward, taking the bento from Makoto, "Why don't we all share what's here? I bet there's more than enough to go around."

    Yosho smirked, slapping Ranma on the shoulder companionably, and was the first to take a seat, followed shortly by Nuku, and then Cologne and Ryouga. Mousse bowed low to Ranma, careful not to drop the container, and sat at the old woman's side, while Washuu took a seat at Ranma's own side.

    Ranma sank to the ground slowly, shaking his head in thought. "I wasn't expecting this," he said ruefully.

    "Kindness is never to be expected, and always to be accepted," Yosho commented, as Ryouga produced a number of paper cups, and a large jug of water.

    "Exactly!" Minako answered from her seat near Ami and Rei. "It rains when you're poor!"

    Ranma snorted, uncovering the first bento, and asking loudly, "Is anyone here familiar with the technique... 'Gourmet de foie gras'?"

    At the unanimous headshakes, he grinned, whirling his chopsticks in the air expertly. "This should be interesting," he commented, flexing slightly, and setting to work. Less than three seconds later, everyone had a surprising mouthful of the contents of the bento. Ranma swallowed his own portion, and grinned. "That's pretty good." For a moment, he nearly forgot that the girl who had made the meal for him had only an hour or so prior shot a bolt of lightning at him, but when the memory returned, he dismissed it. She hadn't meant it, as she said, and he'd taken proportionately worse from Ryouga, or even Mousse on occasion.

    "Hmm," Washuu mumbled, sipping at her water after she recovered from the surprise. "This brings an entirely new meaning to 'feeding your guests.' Tell me, Ranma, are all your meals like this?"

    Ryouga answered while Ranma expertly served out the next round, his movements too fast for the others to see. "Nah, I've seen him muprh--" Ryouga snickered, pausing to chew and swallow, then continued, "I've seen him before. Usually his meals degenerate into challenge matches."

    "One of them leading to a chase deep in China," Ranma remembered aloud.

    "Er..." Ryouga began nervously. "I, uh... I don't think I can really hold that against you anymore," he confessed."

    "Aside from which," Cologne noted, "the Spring of Drown Man should cure you when we reach the Joketsuzoku territory."

    Ryouga brightened instantly. "Really?"

    "Of course!" Cologne said, rolling her eyes. "Turning into a little pig in cold water would be something of a... hindrance... in battle with a reaver, wouldn't it?"

    Glancing at the girls, who were blinking and watching with completely undisguised interest, Ryouga blushed, coughing, "Well, yeah, that's true..."

    After the majority of the food had been eaten -- the watermelons being used to tease Ran-oh-ki -- everyone sat together, content for the moment. Ranma had been surprised at the nearly overwhelming generosity of his allies, and... friends, he hoped. He was uncertain how to feel towards the 'senshi', but they were more honest, now.

    He supposed that it was impossibly to really fault them, given what they'd suffered through and how much everything had changed. Working with them had gone from a distant possibility, to a very likely one, though he wasn't sure what harm they could do to reavers yet. The little one -- despite her parent's probable opinion -- had managed to destroy one, which impressed him. He'd had enough trouble killing them on his own... a little help wouldn't be completely amiss.

    ***

    Haruka stared after Setsuna, as the woman marched briskly away. "Okay," she said evenly. "I don't have the slightest clue where we begin."

    Michiru glanced about to make sure they were unobserved, and drew the Deep Aqua Mirror from a pocket. "We can ask this," she suggested, turning her attention to it. Haruka nodded, peering at the mirror curiously.

    Focusing on the scroll and Setsuna's words, Michiru formed her question carefully, asking the mirror for guidance and help. Slowly, revealed from the swirling in the center of the mirror, an image came to light. A blue point of brightness, blazing against the darkness. The blue slowly shifted to green, and the darkness seemed to stiffen, swirling tendrils of a black morass shot through with white and blue, then shattering to fall away before the mists obscured the vision once more.

    Haruka frowned, glancing to Michiru and then back to the mirror. "That doesn't tell us much," she grumbled. "Can you ask it something else?"

    Michiru nodded, concentrating. What would help them? What could protect them from the threat they were facing?

    Again the mists parted, this time showing a scene right out of a fantasy manga. A sword, ancient and rusted, its age-pitted surface chipped and worn, thrust point first into the ground, leaning against a sapling. Beneath the sapling, a faint hint of green, and behind the tree, more, giving the distinct impression of an ancient forest, though Michiru couldn't explain _why_ it felt ancient. Merely that it did.

    A necklace of small stones hung from the hilt of the sword, swinging softly in an invisible breeze, and a large, lustrous pearl-like gem occupied the lowermost segment of the necklace. The image shimmered, and the gem vanished, leaving only the sword. Again, not knowing how she knew it, Michiru sensed that the gem was not nearly as important as the blade.

    A soft, incredibly faint -- nearly ethereal -- voice began, singing a gentle lullaby too faintly for her to make out, but too persistent for her to ignore. The image wavered once, then faded to the point of blue light again, then faded away.

    "A sword?" Haruka asked, puzzled. "A really beat-up and ancient sword?"

    "Haruka..." Michiru began slowly, discomfited by the singing and strange feelings, "I don't... I'm not sure what that was, but it felt important to me. Very important."

    Nodding doubtfully, the blonde scrubbed a hand through her hair. "I suppose," she said at length. "Is that the best clue we're going to get? It's not much to go on."

    "Maybe not, but I don't think we'll get better," Michiru countered. "What else can we do?"

    "Well, if Tokyo were still around, we could search through legal channels..."

    "I think if that can be done, Setsuna will do it."

    "That's true," Haruka admitted. "We can trust her to manage that. What should we do, then?"

    Michiru sighed, remembering the small ball of light vividly. "I suppose keep an eye out for little blue gems, and ancient rusty swords."

    "Well, it's a start, I suppose..." Haruka grumbled.

    ***

    After the meal had been completed, samples from all dishes having been served to everyone, Ranma slipped away. Not that it was hard for him, even if he was the center of attention. Teleportation and the ability to phase through things raised his stealth from their already considerable levels into a whole new world of potential.

    He had used his speed -- fast enough that none other than probable Cologne and Yosho would have been able to see it, and maybe Mousse and Ryouga if they were looking for it -- to gather what he had wanted, wrap it, and sneak away. Ran-oh-ki's silence had been bought for merely a watermelon rind, leaving the creature to nap contentedly on Washuu's lap. Washuu herself had been caught up in a conversation with Cologne about the Amazons, and Nuku was chatting with Hotaru quietly.

    Floating along the ceiling, wary of guards, Ranma slipped past the man with short blond hair -- Hotaru's father, if his memory served -- leaving himself a mental note to acquire something more subtle to walk around in. Once past the man, however, he slipped into the room he was looking for.

    He guessed it was the room he was looking for, by the proximity of Hotaru's apparent father. Once inside, he dropped to the floor, and glanced about furtively. A short blonde girl rested on a hospital bed to his left, a man sitting in a chair at her side and apparently asleep. To his right, behind a hospital curtain, was another bed, this one holding Ryu as he stared at the ceiling.

    When Ranma entered the room, Ryu's head snapped around, and he glared at Ranma, then looked resolutely away, crossing his right arm -- his left was handcuffed to the bed rail -- over his chest. "What do you want?" he growled after a moment.

    Ranma hesitated, then stepped past the curtain and levitated a short distance, sitting in the air. "This is for you," he said, lobbing a small wrapped package towards Ryu. One-handed, and caught off-guard, Ryu still managed to catch it, staring at the small cloth-wrapped box in confusion. "This is yours," Ranma said by way of explanation. "Your, uh, girlfriend made most of it, some of it's from my daughter, and a couple other people." He stared at Ryu, as Ryu's gaze dropped to the wrapped bento.

    "Oh," he managed, after a moment, struggling to a sitting position. The handcuff slid along the rail, giving him enough room to sit, bento sitting in his lap.

    "So," Ranma asked conversationally, "how long are you going to be here?"

    Ryu grunted, opening his meal and sampling a few bites. "She got better," he stated, lowering the chopsticks left in the box to regard Ranma levelly. "Until they figure out what to do with me. Seems like the guy in charge of this boat doesn't like me much, and said that he'd have me up on charges if I were an American citizen. Or something like that. The translator was having a hard time keeping up."

    Looking away from Ranma, Ryu sampled another portion of his meal, absently brushing a stray grain of rice from his lips. Ranma stared at his hands, gloved as they were. He hadn't touched anything with his bare hands since... since... he frowned, thinking. It had only been yesterday that he was wearing normal clothes, not in the black skintight clothing he was clad in. "You know," he remarked absently, "I was asking about how soon you'd be okay."

    Choking, Ryu, dropped his chopsticks and thumped his chest, wincing when he aggravated the cracked rib. "I've had worse," he answered honestly. "I'll be fine in a day or two. Hell, I would have won the fight..." He trailed off, watching Ranma, and frowning dourly. "I'll be okay," he concluded lamely. "Why did you bring me something to eat, anyway?"

    Ranma shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I don't need more enemies right now, I have enough already."

    "I'm not going to be your friend because you gave me food," Ryu warned, taking another bite. "Aside from which, this was from Makoto, not you."

    "She made it for me to apologize," Ranma countered. "But that's not important. And I don't know you too well -- if you don't want to be a friend, that's your problem. You know what is my problem, though?"

    Ryu merely grunted curiously, fishing for a pickle near the bottom of the bento and eyeing Ranma skeptically.

    "I think that I'd rather have you as an ally anyway."

    "Easy," Ryu said, setting the bento down. "Give me the scrolls, and I'll do it."

    Ranma answered nearly instantly, "Not a chance. They're my father's gift to me, regardless of family. It's personal, and I won the duel. You're not getting the scroll."

    "Then, no deal," Ryu grumbled, returning to his meal again.

    "What if I teach you what I learn from them?" Ranma asked cautiously.

    Ryu froze, chopsticks midway to his mouth. "What?" he asked, not able to believe what he had heard.

    "You'll never get the scrolls, but I'll teach you what I learn from them if you agree to fight with us."

    Ryu stared at Ranma, hard, and blinked, shaking his head. "You're an idiot," he stated firmly. "That's all there is to it."

    Ranma's eyes narrowed dangerously, but he held his temper in check. "What do you mean?"

    "Look, if you think I'm just going to sit here and let all this happen without doing _something_, then you're wrong. I don't care about the scrolls as much as learning the Umisen-ken. That's what's important to me. I gotta get the scroll, then I'll have both halves of the school, and -- according to the man who gave the scrolls to my father -- I'll be able to build a dojo. I think in his own words it was, 'these are arts for life'... or something like that."

    Nodding, Ranma remained where he was, silently studying Ryu.

    "I'll help," Ryu said after a moment of tense silence. "I can make my own copy of the Umisen-ken and the Yamasen-ken."

    Ranma nodded again, lowering to the ground, and extending a hand to Ryu. The other boy stared at him, considering, then grinned, and shook Ranma's hand. "I'm glad to have you fighting at my side," Ranma said, "even if I don't like you much."

    Ryu snorted, dropping Ranma's hand and quickly polishing off his lunch. "That's real nice," he mumbled around a mouthful of rice. Swallowing, he added, "I'm getting what I want, so no problems from me. But see if you can get them to take the handcuff off -- I could break it, but I think that'd just make them mad."

    Nodding in understanding, Ranma turned away, phasing through the curtain and nearly colliding with an eavesdropper. He blinked in surprise, then scowled at the blonde girl with the outlandishly odd hair. She waved her hands in a sudden apologetic flurry, and mouthed several words without managing to utter a single one. Finally calming herself somewhat, she grabbed Ranma's wrist and tugged, trying to lead him as she trotted into the corridor.

    Frowning darkly, Ranma allowed himself to be led, sparing a glance for the peacefully sleeping man in the chair near the bed that the blonde had occupied. In the corridor, he raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest, as she released his wrist. "Well?" he asked, not giving her a chance to speak.

    "I'm sorry! I just smelled something good, like what Makoto-chan cooked, and I thought that maybe there might be some extra, and so I came over to ask if there was anything no one else wanted, and then I heard you talking and I listened because I was sad that you two didn't get along and..." She paused, gasping for breath, and resumed a heartbeat later. "And I thought that it was so great that you two are starting to make up because it's sad to have to watch people not be friends!"

    Ranma stared at the girl blankly for a long moment, as she recovered her breath. "Uh. There's some food up on the deck," he said at length, before levitating and teleporting away.

    ***

    Usagi pouted, as the boy disappeared, but quickly dismissed the incident, shaking her head. Waking Mamoru gently, she notified him, "Ranma-san said there was some food on the deck, and you haven't eaten for almost a whole day -- let's go get something to eat."

    Nodding, the man rose, and stretched deeply. "Okay," he mumbled sleepily. "I feel much better today."

    She smiled winsomely, and happily accepted the offered arm as the man dutifully retraced the route that Ami had originally led them on to see Makoto. "Ranma-san seems to be nice," Usagi said after a moment. "He's really thoughtful."

    ***

    The Throne maintained its position above Cyaga, Genoh's personal ship nearby. While Genoh and Karau were gone for the moment, Tenchi frowned, glancing at Ayeka and then back to the screen. "So," he remarked thoughtfully, "I know who the Amatera are -- you told me that last night -- but who are the Laruma?"

    Ayeka pursed her lips thoughtfully, glancing towards the door that Genoh and his younger brother had retreated through. "It is... it will explain why Laruma-san's words were so rude, I suppose..." she said softly. "Tenchi-sama, think of the Laruma as... ah... what is that word..."

    "Burakumin," Ryouko said, smirking at Ayeka's discomfiture. "Pariahs. The caste too low in society to be accepted anywhere. That's why the Jurian nobles were so angry at the Amatera for giving the Laruma their ships. Jurian law says something about how only nobles can have ships, and the Laruma were not nobles, but they had ships anyway--"

    "That's quite enough, Ryouko," Ayeka hissed. "I think I'm quite capable of explaining my own people's history to Tenchi-sama."

    "Humph," Ryouko snorted. "Your own? Isn't he one of you? Far too elitist. See, as I was saying, Tenchi--"

    "Ryouko!" Ayeka cried out. "That's enough!"

    "No," Tenchi said, overriding the both of them. "I want to hear this all out. Ayeka, sometimes what you tell me is really useful, but if I'm going to be an emperor for Jurai, then I think it would be best for me to be hearing both sides of any story. Don't you?"

    Ayeka bit her tongue, humbled by Tenchi's words, and nodded silently.

    Ryouko spared the other woman a glance, then resumed, "Anyway, the nobility was angry because the Laruma had ships but weren't nobles, so they decided the best way to deal with it was either to kill all of their trees, or kill all of them."

    Tenchi's eyes widened, and he glanced to Ayeka, whose face was drawn and pale. She nodded weak confirmation a moment later, then looking away in shame. Tenchi quickly turned back to Ryouko, who continued without further prompting, "So there was a little war there, though most of the Juraian history probably skirts around the issue... The Laruma lost almost all of their ships in the battles, until Tsunami stepped in on their behalf and pretty much told all the other Juraians to knock it off, and that they couldn't kill the Laruma anymore.

    "So the Juraian council had to make Tsunami happy, and she was pretty mad about the whole thing, so they said that the Laruma would be a house of nobles, just like them, and then having ships would be okay for them. Except that it wasn't, because the nobles only pretended that they called the Laruma equals, none of them really respected the Laruma."

    Tenchi looked to Ayeka for confirmation, and all that she could say in defense was, "Well... they _are_ Laruma."

    The boy hung his head and sighed in exasperation. He harbored some faint hope that the Masaki clan were better than the other stuck-up, pretentious and otherwise... elitist, Ryouko had said. The Juraians were all far too elitist. He had hoped that his own clan would, at the least, be better than that, but evidently it wasn't, if even Ayeka were to be acting as she was. "Anyway," Ryouko said, judging Tenchi to be ready to hear more, "the Laruma got mad about life still sucking on Jurai, but now they had enough power to make a difference, so they went ahead and left to some of the closer territories. Then they started branching out into trade, and to spite the Juraian nobles, helping out people that the nobles refused to help. That's why the fleet that went to Earth was composed almost entirely of Ginraii ships."

    "I see," Tenchi said after a moment, straightening. "And the other half was the Home Fleet. So, they're merchants, too?"

    "They have to make money somehow," Ryouko said with a shrug. "Unlike all of the other nobles, they can't extort taxes from the common citizenry."

    "Now you take that _back_, Ryouko!" Ayeka erupted, fuming. "We are nobles, we are not _thieves_, and your allegation--"

    Tenchi silenced Ayeka by raising a hand to forestall her. "How's that work?" he asked guardedly of Ryouko. "No one's explained how the government gets money around here, but whenever I ask one of the other advisors, they just say, 'donations'. Misaki and Funaho are too busy, or I'd ask them, but I need answers if you expect me to be an emperor."

    Ayeka threw her hands into the air and sank to a seat, glowering at Ryouko. The cyan-haired woman affected to be unaware of the glare she was receiving. "Well, I only know from listening into conversations in the bars I used to be allowed to visit," she shot Ayeka a cool, level look, which Ayeka returned smugly, "before I was told that I shouldn't, because it would make you look bad, Tenchi." The woman turned her attention back to Tenchi, smiling at him and winking. "What I heard, was that only the nobles own any of the territory in the area, and that they have to pay substantial taxes on the land, which is how the nobles get their money -- taxing people. Then all of that money goes to the clans private holdings, and they buy whatever they want with it."

    "I see," Tenchi mumbled, furrowing his brows and deep in thought. "That's really inefficient," he commented. "What about the Council? Where does their money come from?"

    "Donations," Ryouko said, smirking. "More donations mean you have a greater pull within the council, which assures that the greediest and selfish stay on the top."

    Tenchi shook his head. "So the Council is a respected and honored facet of the government, but is effectively just run by the highest bidder? And they're equal in power to the emperor of Jurai. I don't normally like to say things like this, but that's really stupid."

    Ayeka flushed, at a loss for words.

    Ryouko lounged in one of the chairs, glancing at Ayeka for a moment, then back to Tenchi. "I don't think much of it myself, but you're the boss here, Tenchi. If anyone can make changes, it's going to be you, and there _is_ the standard of Juraian law..."

    "Yes!" Ayeka proclaimed, raising her head triumphantly. "Juraian law is fair and just!"

    "Even if the nobles who uphold that law aren't," Ryouko noted.

    "Well, I can see now that there are going to need to be a few changes," Tenchi murmured.

    A knock sounded at the door, and a moment later Genoh and his younger brother reentered. Genoh nodded his head at Tenchi, bowing as he entered, and his younger brother hastily mimicked the gesture a moment later. "Masaki-sama?" he asked. "If you are ready, we can transport the monopoles from the Masagari system, and get to work."

    Genoh fidgeted nervously when Tenchi merely stared at the man for a long, silent minute. "Right," the boy managed, shaking himself from his distraction, and fishing the Tenchi-ken from his robes. "I assume that there's another tree at the other end of this Gate?"

    The Laruma nodded quickly, assuring, "Yes, Masaki-sama, my own ship -- Vidarr -- was in communication with the crew earlier today. The tree there is named Gaeron-oh. Will that suffice?"

    "I hope so," Tenchi muttered. Within a few minutes, Tenchi was able to utilize the Throne's aid, and the tree of the Throne spoke with Gaeron-oh, establishing the link and waiting Tenchi's say-so to activate the Gate.

    "Okay," he said, slightly dizzied from the attempt, when he was wholly unused to communicating with the trees in such a matter. "I think it's ready." He did have to wonder where Tsunami was, but she hadn't been seen since she had left the Court suddenly.

    "By all means, Masaki-sama," Genoh prompted, gesturing to the planet.

    Tenchi grunted quietly, his grip on the Tenchi-ken tightening as the gems flared, and the dark rift in space formed alongside the Throne, ready crews already preparing to guide the massive structures that Genoh had spoken of through and into Cyaga's system.

    The first monopole emerged from the portal almost instantly, ringed by much smaller ships to guide and pull it. According to the Throne's relayed message, it was rushing along at a steady fifty kilometers per second. Tenchi's grip wavered, as the monopoles grew larger around, requiring more power from both him, and the Throne.

    But that was only the first of the poles, though Tenchi allowed the portal to waver, Ayeka and Ryouko both moving to steady him, as he tried to regain the spent energy. The other pole had already started its own journey, so there was no chance to call off the project and allow him to catch his breath. Genoh and Karau seemed completely unaware of the stresses on Tenchi, both staring at the pole as it emerged from the portal.

    Tenchi tightened his grip on the Tenchi-ken, flashing each of the women a warm smile as the gems on the Tenchi-ken flared brightly blue, somehow replenishing his own diminished reservoirs of energy. Mere moments later, a smaller, more startling flow of energy rushed into him, as Ryouko's own gem flared bright, the red matching the glow of the Tenchi-ken's blue.

    Confidence restored, he began expanding the portal again, as the second pole began to widen, still progressing at the same fifty meters per second. Eventually, the first of the larger ships came through, nearly riding the surface of the pole to make sure there was enough clearance from the edge of the portal, and Tenchi obligingly widened it again, nearly a full twenty kilometers more than the thousand of the the pole... and then it was over.

    Gaeron-oh sent a message notifying the Throne that the Masagari system was evacuated of all of the workers, and the portal could be shut. Tenchi gratefully closed the portal, relaxing. "Okay," he said, dizzy and feeling drained -- more so than when he had used the Light Hawk Wings to counter a black hole. "What's next?"

    Genoh watched the system monitors eagerly, only glancing at Tenchi, though both Ayeka and Ryouko stared at him worriedly, only drawing a short distance away. "Nothing more, Masaki-sama," the man said, his younger brother busy scribing down some occurrence or another on his ledger. "Our ships should be able to manage the operation from this point." He turned to regard Tenchi levelly, then broke into a broad grin. "Thank you again, Masaki-sama. I doubt that we would have been able to move the poles into position without your aid. If there is anything I can offer you to express our gratitude, simply name it."

    Shaking his head to clear it, Tenchi gestured to the seats ringing the room's one table. "Actually," he said, taking a seat himself, "there might be something you can help me with, Genoh. And call me Tenchi, please."

    Taken aback, Genoh carefully took the seat opposite from Tenchi, Karau nervously taking the seat to Genoh's right. Ayeka was still seated in the chair to Tenchi's left, while Ryouko straightened up very slightly in her seat to his right. "Yes, er... Tenchi? What can I do for you?"

    "Genoh," Tenchi began, rubbing at his temples after setting the Tenchi-ken on the table before him, "I've been learning a little bit more about Juraian politics over the last few days, and I learned a lot more today... I suppose it's all old news to you, but tell me -- has there ever been a Laruma on the Council?"

    Karau blinked twice, and turned to stare at Genoh in confusion. Genoh shot his younger brother a glance, and the boy snapped his ledger shut audibly, placing his stylus on the table, and stowing the ledger in his robes. Ledger stowed, Genoh turned his attention back to Tenchi. "No, Masaki-sama, no Laruma has ever been permitted to serve in the council. Are you asking because you wish to mock me, or do you truly not know?" The man seemed genuinely confused.

    Tenchi shook his head quickly. "I'm not making fun of you," he assured the man. "I'm learning most of this as I go along -- I guess it's probably pretty hard to manage being the head of Ginraii, and you probably have a lot of work, but try, just for a minute, to see being the emperor of Jurai without really knowing how the whole system works.

    "I'll be honest with you, because this is all terribly confusing to me, and it's really easy for me to make a mistake that makes a lot of people unhappy, and it's beginning to look a lot like even if I do the right thing, I'm going to make a lot of people unhappy."

    "Just make the ones you don't like unhappy," Ryouko joked.

    Ayeka colored angrily, but Tenchi merely smiled softly. "That's about what I plan to do," he said quietly. "Tell me, Genoh, how hard would it be, with my help, to _get_ a Laruma on the Council? I need to make some changes, and the Council is almost guaranteed to oppose me no matter what I attempt to do, unless I can get some support from within."

    Changing from coloring angrily, and only just barely keeping her tongue in check, Ayeka stared at Tenchi in disbelief, while Ryouko eyed him with something much closer to awe. "Well," Genoh said after a moment, he and his brother nervously glancing between the three, "that would be... The Laruma have enough money to attempt to bid into the Council, but we'd never win the elections to a seat."

    "Why not?" Tenchi asked, frowning.

    "Because our blood is considered too ignoble," Genoh answered blandly. "We own no land on Jurai, so we can't bid as landowners."

    Furrowing his brows thoughtfully, Tenchi asked, "What do you own?"

    "Ginraii, which is not negotiable, and..." Genoh trailed off, licking his lips nervously. "And our trade routes. Where the nobles tax the people living on their lands, we tax everyone who uses our ships for trade."

    "So you need land on Jurai to be considered for the Council," Tenchi stated flatly. "Fine. Ayeka, I'm the emperor, right? How much land do I own?"

    Ayeka's eyes rolled up into her head as she slumped out of her seat and collapsed onto the floor.

    "Wait," Genoh managed, looking unnerved. "You're offering us, the _Laruma_, the emperor's land? Tenchi, what you suggest would... Are you sure you wish to do this? I have no desire to remain an outcast, but this... This could go a great way towards destroying the caste system of Jurai."

    "Good," Tenchi said, smiling grimly. "Then let's get to work."

    Remaining on the floor, Ayeka moaned softly.

    ***
    [End, Part One]

    -----------------------------
    Author's notes:

    Thank you to Slacker, Ladegard, Ginrai, MageOhki, Unseen, and the rest of the #void crew for pre-reading, along with special guest pre-reader Alex Raven.

    Very brief notes: Hyoho Niten Ichi, and Yagyu Shinkage are schools of kendo founded by Morimoto Musashi and Jubei Yagyu respectively, arguably two of the greatest swordsmen in Japanese history.