Ranma 1/2 was created by Rumiko Takahashi and its characters belong to
her, and her alone. I'm just kinda borrowing them. The story below is
for entertainment purposes only, and not to be used commercially.
...Obviously.


"Learning Curve"
        Part II     (v1.3)

by:   J. Wagner


    Cologne sighed to herself as the boulder beneath her swung back,
slowly, the supporting branches overhead creaking in protest. Around
forty feet away, attached to the same apparatus that held the multi-
ton boulder suspended, her student was tied, legs crossed and only one
arm, and one finger on that same arm, free. He'd taken to closing his
eyes, the Amazon matriarch noted, in regards to the training. The last
three days he'd kept his eyes open, often during the impact, in an
effort to 'see' the breaking point. Today, however, he'd kept them
closed, and seemed a lot calmer and more collected during the
exercise, despite her attempts to rile him. The Hibiki boy was
powerful, physically, but his emotions were a weak spot - mentioning
Akane, Ranma, and the like very easily had predictable and adverse
effects on his ability to get better in touch with his ki and what it
could do for him.

    Cologne tensed a bit as the boulder reached an apex of height,
inertia fading, letting gravity take it back down, gaining in speed.

    She herself had undergone the training, though with a smaller
boulder. Traditionally, the Bakusai Tenketsu was done with a boulder
one third the size she was using now, and even then, not as much force
was behind it. The training was also stretched out over weeks or
months. This, she knew, had little to do with the size of the boulder
except for the always-present danger of brain damage that the use of
larger, heavier rocks entailed. However, observation of the Lost Boy
showed he was capable of surviving the impacts of this size, and
likely possessed the skill and conscious experience of Ki
manipulation. She had, on the first day, before the first rock
collided, told him.

    See not with your eyes.

    The boulder shuddered violently as it smashed into the young
martial artist. There was a wet thump, and a sharp intake of air as
Ryouga pushed off the surface of the training tool. Looking up at her,
eyes dark with a likely combination of pain and repressed anger and
depression, but most importantly determination, he spat out what she
wanted to hear, what she had been drilling into him over the last few
days.

"Again!" He screamed, as if addicted to the pain.

    "Very well." Cologne tapped her staff on a nearby tree trunk, and
the boulder began, again, to creak backwards. Outwardly, she was
annoyed at him, and made as much known every few failures. Silently,
Cologne was amazed. Before the training had begun, she had tested some
of his abilities. He was incredibly strong, this much was his most
obvious attribute, but only recently had she gotten an appreciation
for what he was capable of. Ranma was also in the mountains training,
with Akane, and she had seen Genma-Panda when he came to spy on what
was going on here. Since then, she had divided her free time between
watching her son-in-law prepare for the upcoming fight, and watching
his rival.

    The rock began to slow, before stopping entirely, and then moving
forward for what seemed like the two hundredth time today.

    Cologne had seen, as she planned, Ryouga practicing and training
Shampoo before the Bakusai Tenketsu training. This was why she had
allowed Shampoo to come, indeed, why she hadn't initially thought of
it herself was almost a little embarrassing. Her great granddaughter
was a fine Amazon specimen, and an excellent warrior - the best of her
generation. However, compared to Ranma, even then, she was virtually
nothing. This, coupled with Shampoo's disillusionment and eventual
acceptance of her defeat, began what Cologne knew was the gradual
fading of her warrior spirit. Cologne was not one to offer training
except in special cases; hence she had been hesitant to directly
confront her protege with her concerns. By tradition, Shampoo would
have to ask her, not the other way around.

    Another sickening splat.

The boulder shook a little this time, and Cologne noted it as a tiny
ki infusion, but incorrectly placed and used. He was growing
remarkably close to 'seeing' the breaking point. Deciding a little
goading might help, Cologne put on her heartless martial-arts master
voice.

"Why don't you just give up?" She said, coldly, "No progress. No
progress at all."

    "AGAIN!"

    Cologne tapped the trunk in a now well-worn location, and the
boulder did as it did. Cologne had also wanted to observe Ryouga's
personal abilities, outside of simply carrying orders, as she had for
Ranma. Like the Saotome boy, Ryouga practiced a very loose,
unrestricted style, that couldn't be properly observed except when
used freely. Simply asking him to show her 'what he could do' would
accomplish nothing, because it wouldn't actually be how he fought. It
had taken a bit longer than she suspected, but when Ryouga began to
take on the role of helping Shampoo improve, often indulging in
sparring sessions with her, it was the prefect opportunity to see the
differences and similarities between her son-in-law and his rival.

    "AGAIN!"

    And he was so close to finding the breaking point it very nearly
amazed her. Cologne had had some hint that Ryouga had experience with
Ki Infusion techniques when she checked his clothes and backpack. The
former were lighter than expected, and the latter far, far heavier,
and not simply due to the number of items stuffed within.
Additionally, his umbrella was also mysteriously heavy. The Amazon's
suspicious were confirmed when Ryouga, by chance, sent a stray
bandanna, one of many apparently, near her when she allowed him to
sense her sneaking up on him. Not see: sense. Further, the bandanna
had acted like a shuriken, and buried itself deeply into a nearby tree
trunk. It was reminiscent of Martial Arts Gymnastics, which Cologne
had heard of, but never actually seen. It supposedly infused Ki into
gymnastic ribbons to increase the strength of the material, and other
properties. It was a strange thought - this Hibiki boy learning, of
all things, Martial Arts Rhythmic Gymnastics, which consequently
became adapted to his lifestyle and fighting techniques. Like it was
in her son-in-law, a single technique could spawn half a dozen
improvisations and improvements in a superior martial artist's mind.

    A dull thud interrupted her thoughts, followed by something that
sounded like...

"aah... again."

    She had seen Ranma doing as much to her Kachuu Tenshi Amaguriken,
using it to pick off attacking bees before they could sting him in the
clearing near where he and his father, a man who obviously held many
powerful techniques and abilities behind his clumsy and cowardly
exterior, were camped. The Chestnut Fist was, at its heart, simply a
speed exercise for the hands, inspired by the ancient Seven Lucky Gods
Clan, of which the leader traditionally used Chopsticks in a similar
manner. Ranma had learned it in a mere few days, though Cologne
admitted she had been reasonably soft on him, due to her inability to
accurately gage his level of skill in specific Ki mastery. It was a
learning experience for both of them, in a way. Ranma had, apparently,
learned it more quickly using fish in water as opposed to actual
chestnuts in a fire, which was the normal method, one that often lead
to ugly scarring. Ryouga's unfortunate curse had almost made her
reconsider using fire, but to her pleasure it had instead proved both
motivational and ...entertaining, to say the least.

    The rock shook under her feet, and Cologne looked down at the
somewhat limp form clinging to the front of the boulder. Inwardly, she
realized she should have put some pause into that last swing to give
him more time to recover. Ryouga's face was bloodied, one eye slightly
swollen, and a slow but steady trickle of dark red blood was flowing
out of the corner of his mouth and into a new patch of dried blood
beneath his chin. One of many Cologne noted. She'd heard that many
Amazons believed the Bukusai Tenketsu was a technique designed either
for fanatics and masochists, from watching the comparatively pitiful
displays of its training regimen back at the village. Sighing, she
looked at where Ryouga's finger had hit the boulder at an off angle,
and saw a tiny dark Ki signature lingering in the rock, barely
breaking the surface, and barely visible.

    She knew, then, that he'd have it mastered by tomorrow, probably
after only another hour or two. Cologne smiled at the thought. When he
was fully healed, after the training was complete, he would be
practically immune to any physical attack her son-in-law could bring
against him. Though the technique didn't work on organic targets, of
which Cologne was sure Ryouga knew... or would certainly know once he
mastered it, it built endurance, toughness and strength to insane
levels. Coupled with his growing, but still more incremental, success
with the Amaguriken, the two would make an unbeatable combination when
used against her son-in-law. That Tendo-girl, Akane, would be Ryouga's
prize, because it was obvious he was infatuated with her, and Ranma,
who never appeared to have any feeling for the girl, would become
Shampoo's... if only because the boy would need her great grandmother
to teach him a technique to defeat his rival. And if he didn't, there
was always Plan B.

    "We'll stop here for tonight." Cologne reached out with her staff
and undid the main knot of the harness around Ryouga. He fell into the
ground, breathing but not moving.

    "What... what a familiar view," he finally spoke, looking up at
the blood stained boulder. Then, very slowly, he smiled.

***

    Present.

    "Two things about Hawaii. One good, one bad."

    "Oh? What's that?"

    "One. It's an island," Ryouga shifted the strap on his shoulder a
bit.

    "And Two?"

    "Two. It's an island," The lost boy said, nodding to himself. It
had been just over a week since he landed in Hawaii, the large island.
He'd ended up on a ship to Maui, and another one back, he thought,
while looking for Gate 46, which had, the week before, been the
location of the next flight to Tokyo. Unfortunately, the island seemed
to have an insane range of climates and locales stuffed into its
meager 4000 something square miles, making him even more lost and
directionless than usual. Currently, he was in a small cafe,
overlooking the ocean, feeling just a little more depressed than
usual.

"Another coffee," he ordered. "No cream. Same as before. Dark as the
night."

    "Right." The woman turned and started making the drink, when
Ryouga spoke up again.

    "I... I know this is going to sound stupid, but... where am I?"

    She looked over her shoulder. "What do ya mean?"

    "I mean, where am I? Exactly?" Ryouga hated asking for directions,
especially from women, but it was a necessity. Though they rarely
helped, it usually at least gave him some reference point for the
future, and some handle on where to go next. Hell, he wasn't even sure
he was on the large island anymore. "I'm kind of looking for an
airport."

    "You're on the Kona Coast, honey. Keahole Airport is about 20
minutes from here."

    "20 minutes?" Ryouga smiled, just a little. 20 minutes driving
time was about 40 minutes jogging at a fairly casual pace for him, but
that was only if he got lucky and didn't get lost.

    "Yep." She handed him his drink, and Ryouga put down the required
cash. At least he knew he was in the United States, and had a handy
emergency supply of the appropriate money. "Just head down the I-11.
The Interstate. It goes right there."

    "Good! Thanks!" Ryouga totally ignored the heat of the coffee. He
was almost used to being splashed by boiling water, drinking some of
it wasn't a problem. Silently, he savored the drink. The western world
seemed to love their coffee, and he didn't mind it occasionally
himself. He'd only gotten two hours sleep yesterday in his effort to
get out of a volcanic type area as quickly as possible, and the coffee
was a welcome relief when he could find it.

    "Oh no," the woman at the cafe said, and Ryouga looked in the
direction she seemed to be concerned by. A trio of men, dressed
somewhat unusually, had walked in. They sported loose jeans, and
fairly colorful T-shirts, the words on one of which Ryouga didn't
recognize: likely some slang term he hadn't picked up on his last time
in America.

    "What?"

    "Oh, its Mel. Guy's got an ego the size of the Goodyear blimp."

    Ryouga obviously missed the reference.

    "Hey, Anne!" The man in question, flanked by his two shorter
friends, walked up to the counter, one of whom took a seat. Ryouga
noted that the taller one, obviously Mel, moved with some control, and
was likely some kind of fighter by his movements. It was either very
subtle, suggesting he was very good, or he simply wasn't that good to
begin with and didn't know how to conceal it. Ryouga was willing to
bet on the latter but didn't totally rule out the former.
Experimentally, he tried to read the man's Ki, and found it average in
all respects, but then again Ryouga was hardly very experienced in
that particular skill. Come to think of it, he was probably over-
complicating the situation like usual.

    "What can I get ya,' Mel?"

    "A date would be a start," he spoke in a self-assured tone Ryouga
quickly recognized, but held back for the moment to let the situation
play out first before acting.

    "I've already got a boyfriend," She answered, staying cordial.
"Can I get you a drink, Mel?"

    "James? Oh, come on! That geek? What do you see in that little
freak, anyway?"

    "He's a nice guy, Mel." The girl frowned, now, cordiality fading.
"And he treats me like a person, not just another piece of ass."

    "That was then, Anne." He leaned in closer. "How about one date?
For old times sake?"

    "I told you," She said sharply. "No."

    "So..." Mel stood up straight. "You want to settle for some half
man, huh? Is that what you want?"

    "I want you to either buy something or leave, Mel. And stop
calling me!"

    "This..." Ryouga finally took the opportunity to speak, his
English crystal clear. "Is so pathetic."

    "Hey!" Mel looked down at Ryouga, who was still seated. "What the
hell did you say?"

    "I said..." The lost boy stood up, finishing his drink. "This is
pathetic. And by extension, you are, too. Pathetic, as in
embarrassingly so."

    "This is none of your business." The older boy growled. "You don't
want to start none of that shit with me, man!"

    "Mel..." The woman, Anne, warned.

Both men ignored her, but Ryouga cracked a grin, one tooth dipping
into the lower lip. "You look like a fighter, Mel... wasn't it?"

    "The best in town! I'm the top student in my class!" Mel
demonstrated he wasn't lying by taking a fairly advanced conventional
Shotokan Karate stance. Ryouga looked him over, and sighed, aggression
dissipating. It was like getting angry at a miniature poodle for
barking too much - it just couldn't do anything else.

    "I see... You know, I'm really, REALLY out of your league. I won't
fight you, but you need to learn some... humility. Everyone does." The
lost boy said, turned and headed for the door, which, luckily, was in
plain view. He was bad with directions, but he wasn't that bad.

    "Shea' right! What's the matter? Don't run away, little guy! I
didn't mean to scare you off!"

    Ryouga paused, and turned around, slowly. His expression hadn't
changed, but he held out his hands, palms up. "I guess I really will
have to teach you some humility then."

That's when it started to happen.

Like a switch that sets the blood aflame, the world started to slow
down around the Lost Boy. Everything felt sharper, clearer, and more
real than the jumbled mess that had been before. In that instant,
Ryouga could virtually count every hair, every bit of stubble on the
young man's face; smell his fear and anger, even touch the flickering
candle of his soul. Had the American boy been more in touch with
himself and the world around him, had he experience like this before,
he would have realized his mistake then. But he was ignorant. Ryouga,
on the other hand, was aware of everything around him.

Power, beyond that any normal person could ever really understand. To
most people, a man with a knife was threatening, and a man with a gun
was dangerous. To Ryouga, both were largely a joke. Times like this,
he wondered if this was a small sample of what it felt like to be a
god. A god of fire and speed and strength... and death.

Ryouga had, from his point of view, all the time in the world. The
other boy's fist was only halfway between him and his opponent, and he
still had time to think of a battle plan, enjoy the scenery, or even
try, for once, to think of a snappy joke before he needed to make his
move. Finally, the lost boy decided to act. The other boy was around
eight feet away. Without a sound, he closed the distance halfway. To
Mel and his friends, it's no doubt looked almost like he had
teleported. Ryouga smiled inwardly at that... They were flies trying
to swim through molasses, and he was a hawk soaring through the sky.

While he still didn't entertain the thought that he was faster than
Ranma - he wasn't, he was still far and away faster than anyone
present could follow. What to do, what to do... a list of options
presented itself to the young martial artist. He could draw a bandanna
or two and drill the punk lightly between his eyes. It would give him
a good scar and probably a concussion, but wouldn't kill. On the other
hand, not feeling altogether altruistic, he could just wind-up and
give him a good old-fashioned haymaker, easily powerful enough to tear
through ballistic armor, or collapse the front of a speeding eighteen-
wheeler. Of course, such a thing was out of the question, but the
option remained. Had he actually done it, Mel's head would either have
been batted clean off his shoulders or, worse, exploded like an
overripe melon hit by a .44 caliber bullet from a magnum.

But that would make a huge mess of the diner, and wouldn't be
particularly honorable, regardless of the situation. Mel struck with a
right jab, well executed, and what he likely thought as being
lightning speed. The room was silent in that instant, save for a hard
thud followed by a howl of pain. Ryouga had his left arm up, almost
casually. Mel had his hand drawn back, in plain view, both eyes wide
with shock and pain. His forearm was just slightly bent, and rapidly
reddening from elbow to wrist. Lowering his arm from the blocking
position, Ryouga sighed.

"Still want to fight me...?" Ryouga grinned, a ferocious terrible
smile, promising no hope or mercy. "Or would you rather do the smart
thing, and walk away?"

    The American boy winced in pain and anger before finally drawing
back, nursing his arm. "Jesus... like hitting God damn concrete..."

    "I didn't think so." Ryouga's voice was level, and his smile faded
into a normal, almost emotionless facade. His anger and frustration
had come to the forefront just then, after days of wandering, and he
was starting to regret not keeping it under tighter rein - he'd even
scared that nice waitress lady. Finally, with the chance of danger
over, the world came down from its high. Things stopped being so clear
and beautiful and returned to the chaos and distraction of the not-so-
real world the average man lived in and through.

Ryouga felt, just then, the nagging suspicion in the back of his mind
that he was, now, back to being just a normal human. Though sometimes,
when the world was darker than usual, even he felt the need to remind
myself that he wasn't, and so the lost boy would have to leap off a
building, bridge or cliff just to get the rush, and the reminder,
going again. Occasionally, someone would see him jump, and the police
would mysteriously never find a body. And why would there be one? He
always survived. And he always moved on.

"Bye." Ryouga turned, went out the door and headed for the Interstate.


And promptly got lost.

***

    Past.

    Shampoo winced as Ryouga blocked her snap kick, ending a quick set
of attacks she had thought out beforehand, and spent time the night
before practicing. She found him, as usual, after his morning speed
exercises with her great grandmother, to bring him back to the camp
for lunch. He'd been calmer and less exhausted, not to mention
frustrated, than usual then, and had suggested they spar before lunch
today. She hadn't picked up on the subtly of his suggestion and the
meaning behind his words until they actually began the fight.
Normally, he ate before some light sparring, to let the food settle
for a long eight or so hours of Bukusai Tenketsu training. Today, he'd
be eating right before being pummeled by boulders with enough force
behind them to easily crush an armored car, which meant...

    "You're letting your mind stray, Shampoo!"

    Shampoo chastised herself mentally, and jumped back as he tagged
her lightly on the shoulder. She'd told him, numerous times, that she
wouldn't mind if he hit her, though naturally nowhere near at full
strength. The fact that he had refused then, and now, continued to
pique her Amazon pride, and the first few times she couldn't help but
take it as an insult. But time and experience showed the contrary -
Ryouga had respect for her skills, or else he wouldn't be helping her,
it was simply his code of honor that didn't allow him to hit a woman.
Foreign and alien to an Amazon, yes, but looking back on how often he
had tagged her lightly, she was silently thankful for it.

    "Then try this, lost boy!" Shampoo spun into a trio of fierce
kicks, of which Ryouga simply fielded with hard blocks. Ryouga had
stressed that his style, as it were, was one of flexibility, moving
away from restrictive sets of attacks or even single attacks, and
towards a more complex 'reactive' style that relied on
unpredictability. He had, much to his own annoyance, said that the
Hibiki School of Survival Arts was an informal one, but was, in
practice, very similar to her Airen's formal Musabetsu Kakuto Ryu, or
School of Anything-Goes Martial Arts. Still, she noted that he had
picked up preferences for certain things, and while Ranma was a
dodger, preferring to avoid blows entirely, Ryouga was a blocker,
preferring to either take or block blows while moving into position to
strike.

    She had planned for this.

    Last night, she had practiced it a dozen times, and had it down
blindfolded. Jumping into a kick, that Ryouga dodged and blocked at
the same time, she tucked and spun for a trip. He braced himself, she
knew without looking, and his legs didn't budge when the trip hit
home. She knew the lost boy wasn't easily taken off his feet, but the
trip didn't matter; it was only a feint. Putting more pressure into
her hand, she felt the soft earth and closed her fingers around a
buried handle.

    "Nani?" Ryouga's eyes widened as Shampoo pulled one of her bonbori
out of the ground and lunged. Falling backwards he let it brush his
nose as it passed overhead, before letting a hand stop his fall and
assist a roll to the side. Kicking out with both legs, preventing
Shampoo from closing the distance, he got to his feet. Shampoo spun in
retaliation, her bonbori stopping inches from his ear as a powerful
grip caught Shampoo's own around the handle, halting the momentum of
the strike entirely.

    "Nice try, Shan Pu. But I could always have just done... this," he
spoke in Mandarin before switching to Japanese, and tapped the Bonbori
with one finger. "Bukusai Tenketsu."

    The bonbori cracked, shuddered, and exploded into blasted chunks.
Shampoo cringed a bit as the debris hit her, but it wasn't a
particularly powerful explosion, she knew, and didn't hurt too much.
She smiled for him. "You learn Bukusai Tenketsu already?"

    "I was close last night. When the... dreams came last night, I
noticed my mistake. And corrected it." Ryouga let her hand go,
blushing a bit, before turning away. "I won't show granny yet, though.
I've learnt it, but I still need to perfect it."

    "Shampoo think you obsessed."

    "With beating Ranma," Ryouga added. "Always, Shampoo. Don't think
otherwise."

    "Great grandmother say you want impress violent Tendo girl."

    "I... I'd be lying if that wasn't part of it, too." Ryouga walked
over to the now only warm bowl of ramen that they had put aside
earlier. "And her name is Akane."

    "She violent."

    "'She girl,' yes, I know," Ryouga rolled his eyes as he said it,
"Shampoo logic in action. But she tries not to be violent. It's
just... around Ranma. And Kuno. And most of the boys in her school.
And you, and Kodachi... and... er... Well, she's nice to me, anyway.
Kinda."

    Shampoo sat nearby, her own bowl in hand. "You love her?"

    "Sometimes I think so. Sometimes I don't know. Right now... right
now, I don't know, Shampoo. I've never had a lot of experience with
girls. My curse... my family's curse, I mean. We're always lost. It
doesn't help things. Hell, I don't even know if I should get involved
with anyone."

    "What you mean?" Shampoo noted the rising tension in Ryouga's
shoulders. It wasn't a comfortable subject, she could tell, but he
seemed to want, or need, to talk about it.

    "My father gets lost. But... my mother didn't always." Ryouga
sighed when he saw that Shampoo was totally lost herself. "The Hibiki
family has had The Curse for a little over two and a half centuries.
We were... we are a samurai family. One that bred for strength and
endurance for years, according to what my father told me on one of the
rare occasions we were together for any period of time. I'm stronger
than the average Hibiki for my age, but not by much. The Curse,
inflicted on us by enemies long since punished for what they did, was
meant to keep the Hibiki family under control, and to last 'for a
thousand years.' Needless to say it worked, and has been with us
since. However, the old family house had wards that allowed us to find
our way around inside it, and not wander off. The Hibiki Family, at
least, stayed together. We could stay home when we wanted to, and
wander... when we wanted to."

    Shampoo nodded. "What happened?"

    "The house burnt down in a firebombing raid on Tokyo. The wards
were lost. We had no idea how to reproduce them, and the priest that
had, originally, made them was long dead. A new one was built, the
house we have now. Have... but don't live in." Ryouga slurped a
mouthful of noodles. "No one lives in it. ...Except the dog."

    "Shampoo not understand! Why not just wait in house?"

    "It doesn't work that way, Shampoo. ...I wish it did. I always end
up outside, and then its impossible to find a way back inside for at
LEAST a week. But that's not the worst of it. I mentioned that my
mother wasn't always lost."

    Shampoo remembered.

    "It runs in the family, but it isn't hereditary."

    "Shampoo still not understand."

    "It... If I married Akane... If she loved me, as... If we got
married, she would slowly start to get lost, too, until she was as bad
as I am. My mother hates that my father never told her before they got
married and had me, and neither my uncle nor my aunt, on the Cursed
side, have children. They don't want to, and who could blame them?
It's a miserable life to subject a child to. Besides, who could love
someone with a Curse like mine?"

    Shampoo didn't know what to say, but tried anyway, "Eight hundred
year from now, child born who not get lost, right?"

    "Supposedly." Ryouga finished the bowl, and leaned back, looking
up at the sky. "But his parents would still be lost all the time.
Anyway, enough about my family... it's depressing."

     "Sure." Shampoo picked up his empty bowl, put it on top of hers,
and put them away.

    Ryouga simply took in the clouds. They sky was almost clear of
them, high above the trees, and any day that it wasn't going to rain
was a good day. He'd quickly come to hate... no, hate was too weak a
word. Loathe. He'd quickly come to loathe Nerima's erratic rainstorms,
water-splashing women, old and young, inconveniently placed sprinkler
systems and easily broken or exploded plumping network. The whole
place was like Tokyo's water hazard or something.

    "Why you really like Akane?"

    "Didn't you ask me that?" Ryouga grumbled, concentrating on more
calming thoughts.

    "Shampoo ask if you love her. You say sometimes." Shampoo sat down
next to him. She was still wearing her battle armor, which she had
lately taken to wearing during their sparring sessions. "Never ask
why."

    "What does it matter?" Ryouga felt a bit nervous about the topic.

    "Shampoo not stupid. She suspect Airen have feelings for violent
girl."

    "And you think they're for the same reasons as mine?" Ryouga
became strangely silent. It was almost a minute before he continued.
"I don't know. I don't know if Ranma loves her or not, Shampoo.
There's something there, under the surface, but I don't know what it
is. I... I do know she thinks of Ranma a lot."

    Ryouga clenched his fists. "You've seen me transform. You know
what I am."

    "You mean little black pig?"

    "Pet pig!" Ryouga's voice bordered on a snarl, but aside from his
almost chalk white fists he hadn't moved. "You want to know how it
started, Shampoo? ...To make a comparison between us? I'll tell you,
then! She kissed me in my cursed form! She kissed me, hugged me, and
named me P-chan, and I fell for her. I fell hard, and I never got back
up."

Jumping to his feet, he saw Cologne waiting and walked over to the
matriarch, quicker than normal. Looking over his shoulder, he growled,
"I'm the last person to be giving out advice on relationships."

An hour later the formerly quiet forest was rocked with the sound of
explosions.

***

Present.

    It didn't hurt to be careful.

    Granted, Hibiki Ryouga never claimed to be a particularly careful
person. He routinely destroyed walls and other things that got into
the way and couldn't easily be gotten around, he got overly emotional,
and... No, careful he wasn't. Quite the contrary, as both a martial
artist and a wanderer, he had seen more than enough danger, and most
of it he had jumped into willingly. Even his Jyusenkyou curse was
partly his fault, both for being careless in a moment of weakness and
dropping his guard, and for following Ranma in the first place. But
danger was par d' course in the pursuit of revenge, he knew that.
Still, he tried to be careful, even if he wasn't.

    The stewardess smiled as the young man smiled up at her nervously.
He was cute, in a rugged, somewhat dangerous way. Though that small
scar, just under his left eye, was a bit odd, "What would you like for
the in-flight meal, sir?"

    "Excuse me, ma'am, but... what flight is this?"

    The stewardess blinked, a blank look on her face. "Excuse me?"

    "The flight. Where is it to?"

    "You're flying First Class on a flight and you're not sure where
it's going?"

    "Er..."

    He certainly didn't seem to be joking. Finally she humored him.
"Flight 102 non stop to Narita Airport."

    Ryouga nodded in recognition. Once on the island, it'd only be a
matter of time before he hit Nerima, Tokyo. "Thank you. I wasn't...
sure exactly where this plane was going to land."

    "Oh." The stewardess seemed to accept that. "What'll you have for
dinner, sir?"

    "The steak. It'll probably be the last time I have that for a
while," Ryouga said a bit too loudly and leaned back on his isle-side
chair. Traveling on planes was always a gamble, at least for a Hibiki.
More often than not, it took you more off course than you were to
begin with, so it was generally reserved for emergencies. The expense
wasn't a major problem; the family was easily well off enough for it,
especially since so little of the actual money in the account was
used. His mother and father spend all their time wandering; the money
simply sat there and accrued interest.

    "What'll it be, sir?" The waitress asked the man sitting next to
Ryouga.

    "Ahl ave de chicken, wahine."

    The lost boy shuddered at the bad attempt at English, but
otherwise ignored the other man. His thoughts turned back to Nerima,
and why exactly he was returning. Was it because he had sworn to? Was
it because he was curious? Or was it because he was lonely and tired
of listlessly wandering foreign streets? Did he really have anywhere
else to go? The plane had been in the air for only a half hour, he
estimated, though it was a pretty rough estimate. The Hibiki sense of
time is worse than usual, but thankfully nowhere near as bad as their
sense of direction. So often it was like this - just him and his
thoughts. In them, he was as free to get lost as anywhere. Usually, it
was the only thing to alleviate the...

    "What are you doing?"

    "Aloha! Me was jus thinkin' dat ya hair need a clippin!" A pair of
hand shears waved threateningly in midair. Threatening to normal
people and to hair, anyway.

    "So you were going to cut my hair?"

    "Ya."

    "In a plane?"

    "Ya."

    "While I slept?"

    "Ya!"

    Ryouga noticed, then, the odd ...tree-like hair design sticking
out of the man's head. Or at least he hoped it was just a design. "Can
I see your shears first?"

    The weirdo had one in each hand, and seemed almost proud to
display them. With a single, swift, motion, Ryouga grabbed each, and
squeezed. The metal crumpled like tin foil, into a useless mess that
hardly resembled anything anymore. Closing his eyes halfway, the young
martial artist relaxed in his chair and crossed his hands over his
belt. "Touch my hair, and I'll do that to your hands."

    "..."

    "Wake me up when dinner's here. Thanks." Closing his eyes, Ryouga
decided to change topics of thought. He'd been looking to further his
knowledge of Indonesian Serak for a while now, and the Hibiki memory,
especially in regards to martial arts, was still as yet un-cursed,
even if the rest of his body and soul was. He'd picked it up, first, a
while back, before he first came to Nerima, and had been searching
for, or more exactly kept on the look out for, a chance to further his
study of it. Unfortunately, the opportunity hadn't yet presented
itself.

The style stressed efficient body movements and timing in combat, and
was almost entirely offensive in nature while emphasizing in close
fighting. What Ryouga himself knew he had made good use of, but it was
still incomplete and imperfect. Devoting time to study, improvise and
extrapolate on a style was important, especially for himself. Because
of his... directional problems, he had learnt that the most efficient
way of learning new styles was to observe it in action or in practice,
in its entirety, and allow a few days for contemplation and absorption
into his own overall style.

    In the meantime, he really hoped that freak wouldn't mess with his
hair. Breaking his hands would probably upset everyone involved, and
he'd upset enough people on this little excursion as it was. More than
normal...

***

Past.

    Shampoo paused, unsure.

    In her mind, what she normally considered a minor thing was being
turned over and re-examined. The splashing was audible now, and she
knew where he was practicing, and about his state of dress (or lack
thereof). At first, Shampoo had resolved herself simply to look and
see whether he was as close to learning the Amaguriken as he had been
the Bakusai Tenketsu yesterday. The fact that he trained for it naked
was little more than a perk - such was the way of things in Amazon
society. Her Airen didn't seem to mind, at least a lot, when she
looked at him or vice versa, but Ryouga... the lost boy was a
different matter entirely.

    She knew he was unusually nervous around and about the female
anatomy, and that he was similarly shy about himself. Why, Shampoo
couldn't fathom; both he and Ranma were built quite well, and she had,
after all, already seen him when he transformed out of his pig form
back in the Nekohanten. It was almost noon. The splashing had stopped,
and the option of asking was, at the moment, more tempting than ever,
but the lost boy still hadn't totally admitted to knowing the Bakusai
Tenketsu, and she had SEEN him do it! In light of that, it seemed
likely he'd deny knowing the Amaguriken, even if he knew the
technique.

    The whole situation was confusing, so Shampoo did what she always
did in situations where she couldn't come to a rational decision, and
went with her instincts. Looking over the concealing bushes, careful
not to make noise, Shampoo watched. To her silent dismay, he only had
his shirt off, obviously to keep it from getting wet. Cologne was next
to him, kettle off to the side, watching. The old woman's eyes passed
by Shampoo, and stayed there. The urge to bolt under her great
grandmother's gaze was strong, but it quickly left her and went back
to the raging water where it belonged, leaving Shampoo with enough
dignity and wits to stay. To Shampoo, it was enough approval to stick
around.

    Ryouga's shoulders tensed, one hand inching a bit forward, letting
the other hang back. Shampoo then noticed one additional thing: both
her great grandmother and her pupil had moved downstream, where it was
shallower. When, without warning, the lost boy's hands became a blur,
she quickly saw why. Instead of catching fish, which likely had fled
the area (and what animal wouldn't?), he was plucking pebbles off the
bottom of the stream. It only seemed to last a second before Ryouga's
hands stopped in midair, still slightly trembling, and he leaned back,
winded but dry. In front of his crossed legs, between his knees,
Shampoo could just barely see a small pile of stones.

    "How... how was that, granny? Fast enough?"

    Cologne looked down at the pile, and said, simply, "Son-in-law is
faster still."

    "Damn. Let me catch my breath, I'll try again."

    "Tomorrow." Cologne spied Shampoo, and the younger Amazon quickly
retreated.

    "Sure." Ryouga slowly got to his feet and stood up, not noticing
anything out of the normal. "Should I continue the Bakusai Tenketsu
training later today?"

    "It has served its purpose. Only practice will make you more
comfortable and proficient with the technique itself now."

    "Right. Should I just wait for Shampoo like normal, or..." Ryouga
frowned. "Where do you head off to every day, anyway? At the same
time?"

    "Do you really want to know?" Cologne regretted saying that: of
course the boy meant what he said. She sighed. "My future Son-in-law
is also training on this mountain."

    "Ah." Ryouga's frown deepened into a scowl. A little too quickly,
Cologne thought to herself. Before he could say another word, she
bounded off without a sound. He was about to run after her, simply on
impulse, when he caught himself and stayed in place.

"Ranma... two days," he said, in an attempt at a villain cliche voice,
"Two days until I destroy you!"

    "Nihao!" Shampoo poked him in the back, causing Ryouga to jump
five feet in the air, totally ruining the mood.

    "Don't DO that!" He whirled, and calmed instantly. "Still, I'm
glad you're here. Shampoo... I should probably tell you something. I
just found out... I'm not the only one training on this mountain..."

    Shampoo blinked as his sentence ended there. "And?"

    "And..." Ryouga couldn't seem to push it past his lips. Telling
Shampoo was both the honest thing to do, and the right thing to do.
Granted, she had an unhealthy fixation on a bastard SOB who would only
break her heart, and likely that of a half dozen other girls, but he
knew he should tell her that he was here. He didn't want to; she'd
likely run off without another thought. Still, over the last few days
he'd never lied to her, why break a streak like that? Besides, what
did he have to lose?

    "Ranma's also around here somewhere. Cologne goes to spy on him
around now."

    "Shampoo know that," she stated, oblivious to the effort he had
spent on that simple statement.

    "You know?" He exclaimed.

    "Of course Shampoo know." Shampoo bluffed. She had just found out
herself, overhearing her great grandmother tell Ryouga, but decided it
was something better kept to herself. True, she was tempted to go off
and first find, then see, Ranma. But he was always there, and she'd
see him at the duel in two days anyway, so it was a minor thing.
Besides, Ranma never actually spent time with her, or even talked, or
tried to be her friend like Ryouga did. Considering Ranma had the luck
to marry the best fighter (and, in Shampoo's opinion, the cutest
fighter) in the Joketsuzoku village, he didn't seem to be especially
grateful or enthusiastic about it.

    "Oh." Ryouga chuckled to himself nervously. "Good."

    As the two walked back to the camp, Ryouga spoke up, "Hey... I've
got a day and a half's worth of training to do, and no one to do it
with. I was kinda wondering if... uh... you'd help me?"

    "Silly lost boy! Of course Shampoo help after you eat."

    "Great!" Ryouga held out a large handful of small round stones and
gave them to Shampoo. "We'll start with those, and take a break when
they're all gone!"

    Shampoo just looked down at the stones in her hand and back up at
him.

    "Throw them at me!" Ryouga held his left hand behind his back, and
his right forward, index finger forward. Shampoo crouched, and started
flicking them, the first three at low speed. The lost boy easily
intercepted them with his finger, and each exploded in a small cloud
of dust. In bursts, next, Shampoo fired them, building up to top
speed. Matching the tiny projectiles, Ryouga's hand became a blur, as
she had seen them do before. Knowing he'd intercept any she threw,
Shampoo poured half of the remaining stones into her other hand, and
used both to send a steam of them his way. His arm was still moving
incredibly quickly, but she could see behind it that he was already
breathing very heavily, in somewhat undisciplined gasps. When her
supply ran out, and the last pebble exploded in midair, Ryouga fell
forward, stopped from hitting the ground only by his still rested left
hand.

    "Look exhausting." Shampoo nudged him with her foot, and he slowly
recovered, his breathing turning steady.

Standing up, he smiled. "That's the point."

"Good. Then lost boy too, too tired to put off eat." She dragged him
by his other arm and tossed him to the ground. To his credit, he
struggled a little.

"Geez. Alright."

He ate contently. The ramen was even better than before, but it
disappeared just as quickly. With it finished, two things warred for
attention in the mind of Ryouga Hibiki. By the end of the fight, in
two days, both were moot points, anyway.

***

Present.

    "Curse that Saotome!"

    Tatewaki Kuno, oft times called the Blue Thunder (at least in his
own mind) of Furinkan High School, repeated his proclamation once more
for the world to take to heart before sneezing loudly, and at least in
his opinion, proudly. Pride was, after all, essential to life as a
Kuno, and Tatewaki, as the heir to the name, and the de facto head of
the family, knew he always had his pride to fall back on. Even as,
earlier today, the vile Sorcerer had publicly humiliated them both, no
doubt in a vain effort to make a mockery of the great name of Tatewaki
Kuno, even at the minor price of his own tiny sense of self-esteem.

    What had started out as a semi-honorable duel had quickly degraded
into a hellish display of ...of ...Kuno wasn't sure what it had
degraded into, but it hadn't been the noble pursuit it began as. Just
a scant two days ago, the Scion of the House Kuno had developed a dark
case of the uncommon cold - uncommon, in that surly no ordinary cold
could or would so dare taunt death by attacking the well nigh
impenetrable immune system of the Blue Thunder, and dark in that no
MERE, unaided, disease had a chance of infecting Tatewaki Kuno...
unless, of course, it had some dark benefactor behind its mysterious
resurgence. No doubt, the vile Saotome Ranma, knowing that no physical
attack could fell the righteous Blue Thunder, resorted to dishonorable
biological attacks on his person. Hence, Kuno had decided, upon great
meditation (and sleeping) to pay back the sorcerer by giving it to him
as well!

    "Ah, the thwarted irony of such a magnificent plan!" Kuno's eyes
watered liberally. Sadly, when his great plan had been made manifest,
and he had begun attempts to spread the disease to Saotome (by
sneezing on him), the fiend, perhaps driven by fear and desperation,
clung to his person. Vigorously, even! Ignoring the long lavender
haired maiden, and holding fast to the torso of the Blue Thunder, and
even doing so far as to do it again, in front of everyone, and say: 'I
can't help myself!'

    "The... the knave!" Kuno sneezed again, and held his bokken to the
air, in a silent vow of vengeance, ready to run off and get revenge.
"I shall have my...!"

    Kodachi's piercing laugh ruined the moment. "Oh, brother dear!"

    "What?" Kuno held in a sneeze and slowly turned around. Standing
next to his twisted sister was a man, wearing a coat over unusually
brightly colored clothes. Especially seeing as it was late fall.
Still, he seemed... slightly familiar.

    And why was his left hand all bandaged up?

    Shampoo hadn't had this much fun in weeks. The appearance of the
Kairaishi mushroom earlier in the day had come both as a surprise and
as an unexpected boon. The plan had been simple: use its abilities to
make an obviously uncommitted and unresponsive Ranma more... open to
advances and suggestion, even if it was through the use of 'black
magic.' With Mousse out of town training by himself, things had been
both slow and boring, much to Shampoo's chagrin. Worse, over the
weeks, Ranma seemed to have grown more and more short tempered around
her, often being downright unfriendly. She'd have been heartbroken if
she hadn't seen it coming - by this point, heartbreak had been
replaced by anger and annoyance, little more. Still, a girl had to
have her fun...

    Neko-shampoo purred as Ranma ran through the house with her in his
arms. Tears were streaking down his cheeks and his eyes were dilated
to the point that one would think he'd had something on the level of a
cerebral hemorrhage. One little sneeze had done it, she was still
amazed by that, and it'd even overcome his fear of her cursed form. On
that topic, she idly wondered why she felt more comfortable in his
arms, even though he was screaming like a madman/woman, as a cat
instead of a person. True, he was strong and she liked hugging him as
a girl, but there was something different when one was an animal.
Idly, she remembered the Lost Boy saying something similar months ago,
the day before the fight, when they'd talked about their mutual
curses.

    Sudden heat interrupted her thoughts, and she felt her body
change. It tingled slightly, she suspected it was from the size change
and the fur, but it was like second nature by this time to undergo the
transformation. Shampoo took it in stride.

"Nihao!"

    "Ssshhammpooo!!!" Ranma seemed more than a little upset. "GET THIS
SPELL OFFA ME!!"

    "No want to," Shampoo said, and meant it. It was both amusing, and
she really had no idea how to undo it anyway.

    A swift Tendo Akane-mallet attack cut Ranma off before he could
reply. "Okay, Okay, I believe you! Now get away from there!"

    There, of course, referring to Shampoo, the Amazon knew. She
scowled; why did this girl always get in the way? If she wanted Ranma,
and Shampoo knew Akane did, why not just say so and get it out in the
open? There was a place for deceit, and a place for honesty in Amazon
society, and the latter almost always came before the former.

    "So this IS all your fault, Shampoo!" Akane huffed, the mallet no
longer visible through the steam of the hot bath.

    "I had to go through all this to convince you?" Ranma grumbled
loudly, both girls ignored him.

    "Ranma! Now you hold Shampoo!" Shampoo produced a handy
Peppershaker (From where is any guess. She was naked when she went
into the tub).

    "I don't..." Akane intercepted the pepper and inhaled it. Shampoo
could see the Tendo girl was more than willing to 'take' the hug from
Ranma in her stead. "T...think ssso!"

    "Akane! What you doing?!" Shampoo snarled, but when Akane sneezed,
nothing happened. Both girls looked around, and neither saw Ranma.

    "This is too much! I guess I'll be sleeping outdoors tonight,"
Ranma thought, running across the top of the wall just outside the
dojo. He paused, when another form, partially obscured by the
darkness, stepped in front of him as it rounded one of the wall's
corners. Slowly, the map in the man's hands lowered, revealing a heavy
forward swept mass of black hair, and the hint of the yellow and black
bandanna that kept it in place.

The lost boy was back.


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