I recently got permission from Kenko to float
this by the FFML in order to un-confuse folks who didn't
understand some of the things referred to in the first
draft of chapter 8 of Pagliacci.

         Now, Kenk wants you all to know that this is
STRICTLY beta, has lots of minor typos, is subject to
extreme revision, and even entire re-writes.

         Don't read while driving, operating heavy
construction equipment, while under the influence
of alcohol or other recreational drugs. Don't read
while laughing. Choking hazard. Not to be used by
children under the age of 13. And all that rot.
You get the idea.

         Anyway, enjoy, and if you have any feedback,
be sure to let Kenko know, 'kay?.

         Ed.


The Training Of Hikaru Gosunkugi

Or

Courage and Chaos

Part the First:  Magic.

In which a surprising revelation is revealed and one cursed person
discovers that it's only going to get worse.

By Robert Haynie, following patterns laid down by Edward Becerra,
and shamelessly borrowing characters and situations created by Rumiko
Takahashi... and a bunch of other people who shall be referenced
at the end.

####

     Maiku was a PI.

     PI's, in his worldview, should operate under certain rules--
specifically, certain uniquely AMERICAN rules.  Not surprisingly,
he was the only private investigator in all Japan who felt this way.
Then again, he was the only PI in all Japan who WAS a true PI, in the
classic American style.

     You HAD to have a weather-beaten hat.  You HAD to have a case of
5 O'clock shadow-- which was why he shaved in the evenings so that
in the morning it would be guaranteed.  You HAD to habitually
have a wrinkled cigarette hanging out of the corner of your mouth.
(It didn't have to be lit.  It just had to be there.)

     There were also things you were supposed to have that Maiku
somehow never managed to get a hold of.  Like a partner.  All the
best PI's had partners.  True, their main purpose seemed to be for
dying so that the big dramatic case could commence, in which you
avenged your partner.  Maiku couldn't begrudge anyone for being
reluctant to work with him, considering those terms.

     You were also supposed to have a slightly battered 38 caliber
Police Special, left over from your days on the force, which you left
in anger because of all the corruption.  Either that or a Colt 45
automatic from your days in the Army.  But Tokyo police didn't carry
firearms as a rule, private ownership was restricted in ways that the
American Democratic Party could only have wet dreams about, and
anyway he'd never actually BEEN a cop.  As for the other?  Japan
didn't HAVE an army any more, and were you likely to walk away from
a stint in the SDF with a weapon?

     Yeah, RIGHT.

     As Maiku followed the blond foreigner, he was unexpectedly
reminded that he DID have ONE of the things a "proper" PI was
supposed to have.  Even if she wasn't quite the classic version.

     "Maiku-chan!"

     (Oh, Crap.)

     "I suppose you're on a case?"

     It was HER.  The strange girl that had saved his life at least
twice... if not three times.  He personally wasn't sure about the
thing with the people in bird suits.  "Um.  Yes.  Please tell me that
you aren't involved in this thing."

     "Sorry, Maiku-chan.  I need to ask a favor."

     "I'm going to hate this, aren't I?"  But Maiku knew that he was
doomed even as he asked the question.  He OWED the girl.

     "I just need to ask him a few questions.  In private.  You mind?"

     "Knock yourself out."  Oh, well, at the worst it meant that it
would take a day longer to get the information his client wanted...
which, now that he thought on it was a GOOD thing since it meant that
an extra day's pay would be forthcoming.  Which meant that instead
of paying off part of his karmic debt he probably owed her again.

     As the pigtailed redhead dashed off in her ill-fitting clothing
after his target, he sighed.  OTHER PI's got Dames that were slinky
and seductive.  HE got a martial artist from hell tomboy.

     But at least there was a Dame in his life.  The-- as he thought
of her-- Lady in Red.

     "Shoulda KNOWN she was from Nerima," he muttered.

     ####

     Hikaru Gosunkugi, should you ask him, was not Hikaru Gosunkugi.

     Not when he was over two meters tall, blond, muscled in ways that
would make not a few gods jealous (and goddesses blush) and dressed
like a cheap knock off of Kevin Sorbo.  Okay, the last was not true.
He was dressed in an excruciatingly accurate reproduction of Kevin
Sorbo's "Hercules" costume from the television series of the same
name.  (This would come to haunt him in ways he could not EVEN begin
to comprehend at this moment in time.)  And he felt like an absolute
jackass.

     Clutching his new best friend in the whole wide world-- an
umbrella that could have easily been purchased anywhere in London
but only in one small shop in one particular district of the Nerima
ward in Tokyo-- he ran as fast as he could.  He wasn't sure how or
why he knew, but he KNEW he was being followed.  Not by the little
pervert.   Not by the OTHER little pervert.  And not by-- he was very
happy about this indeed-- any of the Amazons.

     No, he was being followed by something far, far worse, in his
opinion.  Something he'd come over time to regard as an almost
unstoppable force of nature-- at least he hadn't ever heard of it
being stopped.

     Then suddenly he wasn't being followed.  But he knew very well
why he wasn't being followed.  The follower had overtaken him and
dropped off of a rooftop to land in front of him.

     It was a girl.  Quite attractive.  Well formed.  Eyes so blue,
they reminded one of a lake's depths, and surely one could drown in
them.  Hair that mirrored the setting sun, yet the sun certainly
was not as radiant.  Clad in garments that should have spoken ill of
her beauty, yet instead enhanced it to realms unlike any known on
this coarse Earth.

     And as THAT part of Hikaru's mind went in to Romance Hero Mode,
it was unexpectedly stomped on by a much louder part that was
yelling, "SHUT UP, you MORON!  It's RANMA!  We are SO going to have
our ass handed to us on a sizzle platter!"

     "You.  We have to talk.  I got a couple of questions.  Better
have a couple of answers."

     "Um... Miss, I am, sadly, in a hurry.  If you don't mind--"

     "Oh, but I DO mind.  It's sorta my job.  See, you fight really
good, ya know."

     Eiyu-Gos began to smile, in muted modest pride, when the redhead
added, "And you damn well shouldn't be able to.  Buster, you ain't
going ANYWHERE until you explain how the HELL you fight like that
when you ain't taken Lesson One in your entire LIFE."

     "How did-- I mean, of course I've trained.  Where did you get the
idea that--"

     "Save it, Blondie.  You never trained at all.  It's clear as day.
Well, to ME anyhow," she retorted, with that aggravating smirk she
shared with only one person in the ward-- although it wasn't worth
the pain to mention that Nabiki had it as well.

     "And... and what makes you say that, Miss?"  Outward calm was
beginning to dissolve as inward panic built up pressure more suited
to a steam locomotive.  Eiyu-Gos was NOT comfortable.

     "Someone who's trained, it's about Mind and Body acting as one.
Or at least trying to.  You?  Pretty damn clear to me that Mind was
pretty freaked out at what Body was doing half the time.  You were
doing stuff you didn't know you could do, and the umbrella cinched
it.  If ya HAD trained like you had to, to be able to fight at the
level you were fightin' at, you'da been packing that bumbershoot
in the first place-- and you're damn lucky I was right about that.

     "No.  You were all over the place, no single style-- just a bunch
of unconnected moves that were tacked on to each other.  It looked
like French kickboxing, at first, but there was stuff in there that
just didn't fit.  And it was pretty obvious after a bit that you were
supposed to be using a weapon-- but you didn't _know_ you were
supposed ta.

     "You were confused and mixed up most of the time-- and should
have got your ass kicked, but didn't.  Cripes-- you were yelling
incredibly lame attack names.  Which is DUMB since western styles
don't USE attack names.  No.  You ain't trained a day in your life,
pal.  And I intend to get an explanation.  Here and now."

     "Um.  Well.  It's an ancient Spanish Secret method of training?"

     "You mean Secret Spanish method-- and try again.  The Spanish
ain't got but two Arts and that stuff wasn't either one of them."

     "I read a book?  Yeah, that's it, a very old book about--"

     "Oh, PLEASE.  The only books that would have that kind of a
mishmash of fighting techs would be a cheap-ass romance novel.  A bad
one."

     "Aliens imprinted it into my brain?"  Eiyu-Gos was becoming
desperate, and with his mental processes in a state of war between
the opposing concepts of Ranma Is A Babe and Ranma Will Kick My Ass
In Ways I Dare Not Conceive, his attempts at plausible lies were
becoming more feeble.

     "Not even close.  I happen to know that most aliens know squat
about the Art.  They rely on powers too much to have ever developed
any.  Except for Juraian Swordplay, and that stuff wasn't it."

     Okay.  What the hell was Ranma talking about?  "Exposure to
cosmic radiation?"

     Ranma merely LOOKED at him, her expression clearly saying,
"Pardon me, kind sir, but I am NOT a moron."

     "Well, it's really very simple, I can explain, if you'll just--
OW!  HOT HOT HOT!"

     For reasons that have never really been explained, in Nerima,
especially Furinkan-cho, most people saw nothing wrong with dumping
large amounts of water out of their windows.  It was the upper-floor
apartment dweller's equivalent of the ubiquitous ladle lady dousing
the sidewalk.  However, where said ladle lady would be performing
a sort of morning ritual, and thus with cold tap water, the
upper-floor apartment people would be dumping the water for different
reasons.

     Such as a small domestic argument, resulting in a teapot thrown
out the window.

     And, by what could best be called Cosmic Dramatic Necessity,
breaking against a railing and dousing both Ranma and the blond.
With predictable results... in fact, inevitable ones.

     As Nerima's Premiere Female Martial Artist was replaced by
Nerima's Premiere Male Martial Artist, Nerima's Newest Impressive
Hero was replaced by someone who was nothing of the sort at all.

     Ranma stared at the sight of a soaked and steaming Hikaru
Gosunkugi almost swimming in the leather and metal outfit.  And he
sighed, deeply.  "For pity's sake, Gos, why didn't ya just come out
and tell me the truth instead of making all that silly stuff up?"

     ####

     Ranma listened to Gosunkugi's tale of woe in a small tea-shop
somewhat off the beaten track.  Off the beaten track meant that it
was not in Furinkan-cho, but Tomobiki-cho, where people were less
familiar with the pig-tailed fighter.  And as the poster boy for
underdevelopment (and at the moment, dressing to prove it) ended his
tale, Ranma released another heavy sigh.

     "Ya know, it's funny.  I never noticed that you had such
potential to be a martial artist."

     "I do?" said Gosunkugi, beginning to preen.

     "I mean, it's usually only martial artists that make that kind
of dumb-ass mistake.  I think it's cause we keep gettin' hit in the
head.  Heck, even I've pulled a few prize ones in my time.  'Course
they mostly consisted of listening to Pop, but you woulda thought
I'd learn.  I know I would think so."

     "Thanks," replied the new cursed on the block, no longer
preening.  There was something very galling to have his intellect
compared to Ranma's, the most galling of which being that it sounded
pretty much correct.

     "You're welcome.  So, what style are you interested in?"

     "Very funny."

     "I ain't joking.  You better start thinking about it...
apprentice."

     Gosunkugi blinked.  "There must be something funny in this tea.
The menu did say it was from off planet.  It's messing with my
hearing."

     "And why do you think that?"

     "Because I could have sworn you called me... oh.  Oh, no.  No
WAY!"

     "Yes way.  See, you made a big-ass mistake today.  And you
probably don't even realize it."

     "Mistake?"

     "You went and got yourself a rival."

     Gosunkugi somehow managed to go even more pale than he usually
was.  "Oh.  My.  God."

     "And Happosai's training him.  Way I have it figured, mostly
in how to be an effective perv.  But some of the Art will be in
there.  Not to mention what a hassle that scrub will be when he
learns how to use panties to draw ki."

     "Oh.  My.  DEAR AND MERCIFUL GOD."

     "And the main thing that keeps Happi in check is me.  So, you're
my apprentice, especially after the old freak did that Star Wars gig
today."

     "I don't understand."

     Ranma smirked.  "Well, the way I figure it, you're my best chance
at the moment to see a light side to this farce."

     Gosunkugi would have tried to hit Ranma for the pun, but he knew
he would never land a blow.  That, and he knew-- as little as he
might wish to admit it-- that Ranma was right.

     "I hate you, you know."

     "Never heard of a student who didn't hate his sensei, at
first..."

     ####

     Ranma had evaluated Hikaru Gosunkugi's cursed form.

     Said cursed form was trying to figure out where all the bruises
had come from.

     Hikaru had never been in a "real" fight with Ranma-- as far as he
was concerned, the Battle Armor travesty didn't count.  And, truth
to tell, he hadn't been now.  It was merely a spar, to Ranma's eyes.
Intellectually, Hikaru knew this also.  EMOTIONALLY, well...

     Eiyu-Gos had just discovered what a spar with the Best of the
Best meant.

     It meant pain.

     "I figured it out, Gos.  You ain't got any skills."

     At that, the blond romance hero took offense.  "Hey, I blocked
at least... one.  One of your punches.  And I'm alive!  And you said
that my moves were good!"

     "Good, yes.  Skilled, no.  You ain't got any skills.  What you
got is instincts."

     "Huh?"

     "Freaky effective instincts, yeah... but that's all you got.
Skills, you learn them.  You train them, you master them.  Ain't
something you can do, Gos.  Because you ain't got any skills.  You
got instincts.  And that ain't gonna be enough."

     "I see... then what do we do--OWW!  HOT! HOT! HOT!"

     Ranma grinned, setting aside the kettle.  "I try to teach you
some skills.  For real, with you being you.  With any luck, it'll
carry over."

     Gosunkugi blinked.  Slowly.  "You mean... you're going to do to
me what you just did to me when I'm not changed?"

     "Pretty much.  Now, the first thing you have to learn is how to
fall-- Oh."

     Ranma gazed upon the now unconscious Gosunkugi, who had passed
out at the very thought of training with Ranma in an uncursed state.
"Well, ain't what I had in mind, but seems you got a head start on
that lesson..."

     ####

     "Ow.  Ow.  Ow.  Ow.  Ow.  Ow.  Ow.  Ow.  Ow.  Ow."

     "You got the fallin' part almost perfect, apprentice."

     "Off a damn FENCE?"

     "Ain't ready for rooftops yet."

     "Ow..."

     "We're almost there, anyway.  Back on the fence."

     "WAHHHHHH!"

     ####

     Gosunkugi looked around the facility.  A large gym room, a bank
of computers, shower facilities, lockers-- this was a place tailor
made for a master martial artist to train an apprentice, if the
master martial artist was also an ace secret agent, or maybe Batman.
Exercise equipment, much of it decidedly high tech, stood next to
traditional martial arts training tools.  Various weapons and
equipment were displayed in cases, ranging from the simple wooden
staff to what looked like some sort of portable laser cannon.  All
hidden from public view, reached via a secret passage in an abandoned
warehouse.

     In other words, somehow Ranma had an honest to the kami Secret
Base, just like in a spy movie or a manga or an anime.

     Gosunkugi, on the other hand, merely had a headache.

     "What... what IS this place?"

     "Old Mishima Heavy Industries lab.  For field-testing
battlesuits and stuff like that.  Obsolete, at least as far as
they're concerned, so they let me use it after I did them a couple
of favors.  You know, stuff like helpin' them to field-test that
Poison Zeta thingy."

     "Poison what?"

     "Well, I wasn't exactly planning to help, to be honest.  But that
dipstick Arisa mistook me for Atsuko, don't know how, we don't look
anything alike, and well, Akiko-san was really upset about it, and
she sorta lent me the place so I'd have a place to workout and test
new moves, if I didn't sue or nothin'.  And it sort of grew on me.
She's pretty cool when she ain't trying to blow up her husband."

     "But... but all this equipment?"

     "She don't need it none.  I test some of it for her, send her my
impressions... you know, scratching backs."  Ranma checked a computer
terminal, and sighed.  "No new e-mail.  Well, that just means I can
spend extra time on your training."

     "YOU know how to use a computer?"

     "Who doesn't?  Ain't like it's difficult."  Ranma shrugged.
"Why do people always think I'm some kinda dummy, just because I
didn't get to study as much as some?"

     "That page is in English."

     "Your point?"

     "Well, you never pay attention in Hinako-sensei's class."

     "Why should I?  I know English already, better'n her.  Learned
it on US army bases.  Good training, with their special forces guys.
Hmm... need to save these posts for later reading."

     "Posts?"

     "On Usenet.  Alt.Martial-Arts.Esoteric.  Newsgroup for the really
capable martial artist.  Moderated, so less SPAM."

     "And I suppose you go and visit SPAMmers in the night to get them
to stop, huh?"

     "Naw.  I'm too nice a guy.  No tellin' what Shizuma might do,
though, or Hiei.  Shizuma's a loose cannon if ever there was one, and
Hiei can get kinda petty at times."

     As Ranma turned to the terminal again, Hikaru Gosunkugi was
trying desparately to wake up from the strange, surreal dream.  And
reluctantly beginning to accept that it wasn't a dream after all.

     This was a side of Ranma that Gosunkugi had never seen-- and
suspected that no-one else had either.  His preconceptions
of the martial artist were being challenged in ways he'd never
considered.

     Computer savvy.  Apparently a lot more intelligent than anyone
gave him credit for.  Connections with one of the most powerful
corporations in Japan-- possibly in the world.  And mentioning
names that he'd never heard of.  Names of people not from Nerima--
and who weren't trying to kill him.

     "Where's Rod Serling?  I know he's here somewhere," muttered
Gosunkugi, who still couldn't quite believe that any of this was
real.

     "Who?"

     "Never mind.  How come no-one knows about all this?"

     "'Cause I don't tell anyone.  Incidentally, I'd be very damn
unhappy if anyone found out about the base.  Especially people like
Kuno and Nabiki."

     "Got it," quavered the apprentice.  "So... why am I here?"

     "Training.  I can't teach you anything but a few basics in any
short time.  But I can teach you those.  At the least they'll help
you live long enough to find cold water when you need it."

     "It finds me easily enough," Gosunkugi whined.

     "Until you NEED it.  Trust me, I know."

     "It's just so unfair."

     "What is?"

     "The insanity."

     "What insanity?"

     At that, Gosunkugi stared at Ranma in sheer disbelief.  "After
everything I told you about at that tea shop, you can ask me THAT?"

     "Ya didn't say anything particularly strange at the tea shop."

     "I've got a pack of marriage-hungry Amazons after me, I can't
help but want to help, water seems to hide in wait to attack me from
nowhere, people want to fight me for no rational reason, my mother--
oh, don't get me started on my MOTHER, she's completely out of her
MIND, my dad's NO help at ALL, and Gods in Heaven help me, the only
person who even seems to sympathise the tiniest bit is YOU!  You
can't tell me that that's not STRANGE!"

     Ranma paused for a moment, and started ticking items off on his
fingers.  "Hmm... chicks chasin' ya.  Want to help... part of the
duty, I guess.  Water from outta the blue.  Challenges.  Mom's kinda
a nut.  Pop useless.  Hmm..."

     The pigtailed youth mused for a moment, and then replied, "I
don't see what you're gettin' at, Gos.  Sounds pretty normal to me."

     As Gosunkugi toppled over at that comment, Ranma continued,
"Now, if you ever start turning into a hot chick, that I can advise
you about.  But why're you sweating the everyday stuff?"

     "I'm doomed.  I am SO DOOMED."

     ####

     Hikaru dragged himself to the door of his house, Ranma in tow.
"This your place, Gos?  Pretty nice joint," the martial artist noted.

     "It'll be heaven if Mother's out," the walking bruised (Ranma
had not wounded him) replied.

     "Anyhow, see you later."

     "Um..."  Gosunkugi began to draw imaginary circles in the dust.
"I was kinda hoping you'd come in to talk to my mother--"

     "And let her know I'm training you?"

     "Um.  Yes."

     "No can do.  She's not what you'd call subtle, is she?"

     "Um.  No."

     "So she hears, she starts bragging to her friends-- and we want
to keep this secret."

     "We do?"

     "Unless you WANT Happi and friend showing up to mess with you."

     "ACK."

     "In fact, find out if she's told anyone.  Best to keep it under
wraps."

     "And how do you propose I get her to keep quiet?"

     "Oh, that's EASY..."

     ####

     "Oh, I can't BELIEVE I forgot to tell Aria-chan and Megumi-chan
about my wonderful son!"

     Gosunkugi steeled himself.  "Actually, Mother, it's best that you
don't tell ANYONE.  In fact, I have to insist."

     "But why?"  Mrs. Gosunkugi was somewhat taken aback at this
pronouncement.  She SO wanted to share her pride in her son, now that
there was something to be proud about.

     "It's called a Secret Identity.  All the best Heroes have them,
mother.  I have that on good authority."

     Mrs. Gosunkugi blinked.  "Can't you get by with, um, a pair of
glasses or something?"

     "Oh, like THAT'LL fool anyone.  No, Mother, I have a tailor made
secret identity, and I'm going to use it."

     "Well, if you insist..."  The lady was somewhat disappointed,
but at least her Hikaru-chan was going to TRY.

     ####

     "Clark, you sneezed.  You NEVER sneeze."

     ####

     Over the next few days, Gosunkugi's life took on a rather
monotonous, if completely unlike anything he would have ever
predicted, routine.

     Get up.  Bathe.  Get dressed.  Go to school.  Keep ducking Kuno
as best he could.  Dodge water.  The last was the hard part, but with
Ranma's covert aid, possible.

     Then go home, change clothes, and meet Ranma at the Base.

     And THEN experience pain unlike aything he'd ever experienced
in his LIFE.  Repeatedly.  And have it start to DO things for him.

     Because Ranma knew The Art.  Every time Ranma spoke about The Art
Gosunkugi could HEAR the capitals-- or would have, were they speaking
English.  As it was, he had a mental image of the proper kanji leap
into his mind.

     And Ranma had a method for teaching that was startlingly
effective, simple, and elegant.  It was based on two simple concepts.

     Everything Genma did that worked, was used.

     Everything that didn't, wasn't.

     Gosunkugi was in serious pain after every lesson.

     Gosunkugi was also, despite a natural inclination to the
opposite, actually learning Kempo.

     He just wasn't HAPPY about it.

     It was really quite obvious, or would have been, had there been
an outsider to observe the actual training.  The single person least
able to learn Kempo on the planet, who was not physically disabled,
was Hikaru Gosunkugi.  Ranma took the idea of training said Hikaru
Gosunkugi as a challenge.

     In fact, considering Hikaru's innate wimpiness, he looked at it
as a sort of a fight-- a battle between Hikaru's almost absolute
lack of any talent at the Art and Ranma's ability to teach.

     And as far as Ranma was concerned, it could be easily be called
Anything-Goes Martial Arts Teaching to the Inept.  That was how Ranma
thought of it, anyhow.

     And when it came to martial arts...

     Well, you know what they say about Ranma Saotome.

     They're right, you know.

     ####

     "So, give us your-- OW!"

     It was the guys in the animal masks.  If there was anything
Hikaru Gosunkugi hated more than the fact that Akane and Ranma were--
technically-- a couple, it was the guys in the animal masks.

     And Hikaru blinked as the guy in the Octopus mask sat suddenly
on his ass where he'd been driven to by a not particuarly forceful
but completely unexpected punch.  Then he stared at his fist.  There
had been the start of a threatening move-- the traditional prelude
to his getting beaten up again, and relexes he had no idea he
possessed had suddenly taken over.

     The rest of the gang stood frozen for a moment, and then began
to advance in a menacing fashion (Something they were quite good at)
when a crimson breeze seemed to pass by, and then they were all on
the ground, moaning in pain.

     "Yeesh.  I thought we were RID of you guys."  A delicate hand
plucked a mask from a face.  "Huh.  Seems we were.  Who are YOU?"

     The unfamiliar face stared at the very pretty girl who had, for
the lack of a better phrase, just kicked his ass.  "Please don't hit
me again?"

     "Depends on your answer."

     "We bought them from some guys, they said that they'd make us the
toughest gang on the--"

     "You ain't from Furinkan, are ya?"

     "No Ma'am!  We're from Kolkhoz.  We just wanted to--"

     "To forget the gang thing, and the mask thing, and live honest
and righteous lives from now on, right?"  The blue eyes had an edge
of menace that the would-be ganger had never imagined was possible.

     "Um... Yes! Whatever you say, Ma'am!"

     "Good.  Because I'll know if you don't."

     As the no-longer gangers scrambled away, Ranma looked at
Gosunkugi, with an approving smile.  "Whad'ya know, he CAN be taught.
Passable punch, that.  Your wrist was too stiff, tho'."

     "I... I hit him.  I really HIT him. And he fell down!"

     "Less skill or power than luck-- he wasn't expecting it.  But it
was a fair blow.  Anyhow, we've got special training this afternoon."

     "We do?"

     "Yeah.  We're taking a little trip.  Cold-water style."

     "Where?  And why?"

     "You'll see.  We hit the base first."

     "I'm going to hate this, aren't I?"

     Ranma paused.  She carefully thought over her possible replies,
and decided to go with the truth.

     "Probably."

     ####

     "So, who splashed you?"

     "Nobody," replied Ranma.  "I'm a girl on purpose."

     Gosunkugi blinked.  "Okay.  And WHY are you a girl on purpose?"

     "Because I can't do this as a guy," replied the redhead, opening
a door that Gosunkugi hadn't noticed before.  He followed her-- and
then found himself upside down against the opposing wall, with a
glaring Ranma-chan standing over him.

     "What do you THINK you're doing?!?"

     "Owwww."

     "Answer the question!"

     "Following my sensei?"  (PLEASE let that be the right answer.)

     "Into my dressing room?  And here I figured you were supposed
to be some sort of a gentleman."

     "I didn't even KNOW you had a dressing room!  Wait.  WHY do you
have a dressing room?"

     Ranma blinked.  "OK... sorry.  Kinda forgot you didn't know yet.
Anyhow, you don't go in there.  That's my girl place."

     "Girl place."

     "Where I keep my girl stuff."

     "Girl stuff."

     "Right.  So, you see why you ain't allowed."

     "I HAVE NO DAMN IDEA WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!"

     "I have girl clothes in there and that's where I change into
them."

     "Oh."

     "So, you can't come in--"

     "WAIT A MINUTE.  SINCE WHEN DO YOU WILLINGLY DRESS LIKE A
GIRL?!?"

     "It ain't about willing.  It's about needing to.  Sometimes
I do things that mean I need to be a girl, and dress nice."

     "I don't understand," Gos said, now as confused as he had ever
been in his life.

     "You will.  Now, get wet.  There's a change of clothes over
there, stuff that WORKS where we're going.  Not anything like your
mom picks up.  Yeesh.  Like SHE has any idea how to dress for a
fight."

     "Tell me.  I know I am going to hate this, but exactly how MUCH
am I going to hate this?"

     Ranma paused, and just before entering her dressing room,
replied, "Well, actually, there are upsides."

     And then she gave a quick, almost feminine smile that chilled
Gosunkugi to his very marrow.

     ####

     Okay.

     This was STRANGE.

     For some reason, Ranma had had him dress in a perfectly tailored
three-piece suit.  Apparently, formal wear of some kind was proper
fighting gear where-ever they were going.

     She'd also been very instistent that he made certain he knew
where his umbrella was.  He was going to need it, she'd said.

     She.

     Eiyu-Gos looked over at the redhead, her pigtail undone and
refashioned into a simple ponytail.  Clad in white hip-hugging
leather pants and midriff-revealing bustier, knee-high gray boots
and matching bracers, and a black leather sleeveless longcoat with
a sort of eclipsed moon emblazoned on the left side of her chest,
she looked like she'd just fallen out of a Matrix knockoff--
down to the dark glasses.

     "I can't imagine why you're dressed like that.  Or why we're
trying to ride the train from the damn OUTSIDE!" screamed Eiyu-Gos
at Ranma.

     Which, mind you, they were.  Instead of being inside of the
bullet train, like any sane person, they were clinging to the top of
the high-speed mecha, and to Eiyu-Gos's total amazement, NOT falling
off.  Thus the screaming, else he would not have been heard.

     "It's cheaper," yelled back the no-longer pig-tailed girl, "and
we'll need to be on the outside when it's time to jump!"

     "JUMP?!?"

     "Well, I can't very well ask the driver to stop the train, can
I?"

     "I hate you i hate you i hate you,"  Gosunkugi murmured to
himself, as a sort of a mantra.  Oddly, it DID soothe him.

     ####

     "Ow.  Ow.  Ow.  Ow.  Ow.  Ow.  Ow.  Ow.  Ow.  Ow.  Ow."

     "Work on a better battle cry, Wan.  Now, about that landing--
oh, wait, we're here, time to meet the girls."

     "Ow.  Ow.  Ow... who?"

     "Prepare yourself, my student, for an experience that will amaze
you.  I know it amazed me."

     "Yeah, right.  This is all some sadistic...oh, MY."

     A girl had come around the corner.

     Her garments were, to be truthful, eccentric.  A strangely
stylised version of a girl's school uniform at first glance, although
the multilayered skirt, the peculiar jewelry, and the heeled boots
weren't anything you'd find at any school in Tokyo.  Much less the
wings.

     The girl had wings.

     And Ranma blinked as Eiyu-Gos's instincts took over, and he
suddenly dropped to one knee, his head bowed.

     "Um... Moonshadow, who is this--"

     "He's my apprentice, Sailor Moon."

     Eiyu-Gos looked up-- barely, and murmured, "Your Highness.
Unworthy as I am to even be in your presence, please accept what
small aid that Sensei thinks I can give."

     Eternal Sailor Moon, one of the most powerful beings on the
planet, blinked in mild confusion.  "How did you know I was a
princess?"

     "Is it not obvious?  Your bearing, your demeanor, your very
aura... is it not clear to all?  Is it not sung from the skies
themselves?  Is it not chanted by the stones of the earth?  Is it
not--OW!"  His Typical Romance Hero Speech, delivered in a style that
would have given Kuno a serious case of envy, was interrupted
by a sudden blow to the top of his skull.

     "It ain't obvious, since it's the first I'VE heard of it.  Moon,
what's he talking about?"

     "I never mentioned it?  I'm a reincarnated princess from the Moon
Kingdom."

     "Never came up, I guess."

     "That's odd.  Um... he knows what you really are, right?"

     "Yup.  And he isn't who he looks like either."

     Sailor Moon blinked.  "So, that's why you bought him-- he's like
you, and that's his... other shape?"

     Ranma-- or rather, Moonshadow, as Sailor Moon had called her
nodded.  "Yup again.  Went to China on PURPOSE, and jumped into the
Spring of Tall Gaijin Dumb Blond."

     "It is as sensei say-- HEY!"

     Moonshadow smirked.  "Call him Tenorioh Wan.  He's sort of
Spanish."

     Sailor Moon blinked.  "How can anyone be sort of Spanish?"

     "The same way I'm sort of a girl."

     "Oh.  Well, the others are at the park.  I suppose you want to
make your usual dramatic entrance?"

     Moonshadow nodded.  "That's half the fun."

     "I'll go ahead, then.  You know, Mercury still hasn't figured
out how you find us when one of these things pops up."

     "Mercury is smart, but she's going to be like the rest and try to
figure some mystical, arcane thing, like I have some wierd
ShadowSense or something.  It just plain wouldn't occur to her that
you just call ahead and tell me to meet you guys."

     Sailor Moon merely giggled.

     "I think it's those communicators.  Makes them forget that
cellphones exist, they do," noted Moonshadow.

     "At least for talking about something like this."

     Eiyu-gos was puzzled.  Not only was Ranma chatting amiably with
what was, as best as he could see, a true princess-- indeed, nearly
a goddess-- but she was doing so in a scandalously informal fashion.
As he rubbed his head from the bump that Ranma had granted him, he
kept staring at the skies.

     Apparently, the gods were slackers, since Saotome hadn't been
struck down for her effrontery yet.   As Sailor Moon left, he looked
up at the person who in a few days had become a blend of sensei,
confidant, and source of all pain, and asked, "How is it that you
know a goddess incarnate?"

     "Naw, that's Belldandy-san.  But I can see the Princess thing
working for Sailor Moon, now that I think about it.  Explains the
sticks."

     "Sticks?"

     "Scepters, more like.  Hella nasty scepters.  Anyhow, told you it
was amazing.  I was pretty impressed when I first saw her myself,
there's something about the girl.  Didn't freak like you did, tho.
Must be something in the water."

     "Something in--"

     "As in, China."

     "Oh.  Um... how did you meet... Her?"

     "Long story..."

     And for a moment Ranma-Moonshadow's expression softened as she
thought back to that particular day, over a year ago...

     ####

     As best as he could tell, he wasn't DYING.  It hurt too much for
that.

     Ranma Saotome had been in Nerima for perhaps a month when Kasumi
had asked him to catch a train to Juuban and pick up a package at a
shop that was the closest place that sold certan seasonings she liked
to keep about.  Shoyu one could get anywhere, but fresh basil wasn't
a commonplace in Tokyo-- certainly not Nerima.  And he'd never heard
of couscous, but it was something Kasumi wanted to try.

     And on the way back from that shop, planning to take the train
the cheap way (A technique that he would more than a year later teach
to one Hikaru Gosunkugi) he found himself under attack.

     Being under attack was nothing new to him.  So far, he got a fair
amount of it from Kuno, Ryoga, and the like.  Being under attack
by what looked like some wierd-ass cross between a gasoline pump and
a girl, though... that was novel.

     And right now he couldn't feel anything but pain from his empty
chest where a gleaming crystal had been removed.

     "It's not a Talisman.  Put it back, Neptune."

     (Wonder what that means?  And why didn't that thing get hurt by
my blows?  It was like it didn't even notice.  Wish I could move.)

     Then he felt his strength begin to return as a oddly garbed woman
released the shining gem that had been inside him.  He began to
struggle to his feet, still determined to do battle.

     "You're a tough one, boy.  But you're not going to be of any help
here.  Better let Sailor Moon and her friends take care of it."

     Still groggy, he looked up uncertainly, and saw Sailor Moon for
the first time.  She hadn't, then, the wings that would mark her
penultimate form, but still he found it difficult to breathe as he
gazed at her.  There was pretty, and then there was the almost
supernal beauty of the fuku-clad form-- who was doing her level best
not to get incinerated by the gas-pump thing, who was now doing a
very nice flamethrower imitation.

     Magical girls.  Just like on TV, like Akane liked to watch.  But
a hell of a lot more impressive than any anime could create.  Real
magical-- wait a moment.

     He'd met an old Chinese man about a year ago, in Hong Kong, who
was buying antiques with his nephew and a Japanese man who made Pop
look freaking skinny.  The nephew was a martial artist too-- a damn
good one, and he'd had one of the most fulfilling spars of his life
that afternoon.

     But the old man had looked at him, and shaken his head.  "You are
going to have a strange life.  Uncle can tell.  You have the same air
as Jackie does."

     "Oh, not that again," the Nephew had complained.

     "You are saying your life is normal?"

     Nephew Jackie had fallen silent.

     "Listen to Uncle, boy.  Try to be honest.  Train well.  And...
be careful."

     "Heh.  Like I need to worry about bein' careful."

     "One more thing.  ESPECIALLY be careful in China.  There are
things in China that are very dangerous!"

     "I ain't afraid of no--"

     "One MORE thing.  You should keep your wrist more straight
when throwing your punches."

     "Hmm... Yeah, I guess that couldn't hurt--"

     "ONE MORE thing.  Remember-- if you ever come up against it, do
not try to fight magic with your hands and feet!  Magic must defeat
Magic!"

     "Huh?"

     The nephew had nodded.  "That's one I'd remember."

     And he did.

     Could it work?

     Could he USE his curse?

     He was alone, and unseen.  He saw a faucet nearby.   He opened
the valve, and stopped being a he.

     And as she shook her hair free of the water that was usually
her bane, and adjusted her clothing, she hoped to hell she was right
about this.

     Sailor Moon was going almost insane.  How the heck was she going
to even START a Moon Spiral Heart Attack if she had to dodge fire
that even Mars would be hard pressed to generate?  And the others
weren't here, and the enigmatic Sailor Neptune and Sailor Uranus
weren't being of any help-- they'd vanished again.

     If only she had a distraction.

     A distraction was provided by a howling blur of redhead, who
slammed into the Daimon with a brutal leap-kick.  And the Daimon
SCREAMED.

     Ranma smirked.  Magical Girls, Magical Monster... Magical BODY.

     Magic Must Defeat Magic.

     (I'm a magical girl too.  HEH.)

     A second kick, a well placed punch... then a throw into a
convienient wall.  That was all Sailor Moon needed to land the
finishing blow.

     "MOON SPIRAL HEART ATTACK!"

     Ranma stared at the thing that had erased the Daimon--  a
strange, almost astral in nature bolt of energy that had resembled
for a moment a huge pink heart.  But there was no denying the power
of the attack-- or the effectiveness.

     "Whoa.  That's some move you got there, lady."

     Sailor Moon stared.  "How did you hurt that Daimon?  If there's
one thing we've learned about youma, no matter what kind, it's that
you can't just beat them up.  If you could, Jupiter would be really
happy.  It takes magic."

     "Heh.  Yeah, it does.  Good thing I'm magical.  He he heh.  Just
like what the tomboy watches.  Never guessed it could be a GOOD
thing."  Ranma began to snicker.

     "Magical?"

     "Heh.  Yeah.  You and me.  Magical Girls!"  And the redhead
fell down, in hysterical laughter-- not so much because of the humor,
but rather now that the adrenaline rush from the battle was over,
she had surrendered herself to well  deserved hysteria.

     Sailor Moon blinked.  She'd never actually thought of herself
as a Magical Girl... but she supposed that was the case.  She
certainly had all the required paraphernalia for the role.  Even the
cute mascot.  This person didn't, however.

     "You don't look like a 'magical girl', miss..."

     "Ranma," the redhead replied without thinking.

     "That's not a lot of a codename, is it?"

     "Code-- Naw, that's just my name.  And your's is?"

     "A secret.  But you can call me Sailor Moon.  And you really
should have a codename, you know.  Heck, Venus has two.  Sailor Venus
and Sailor V-- well, she doesn't use Sailor V anymore, so I guess
she only has one right now."

     "Um.  Yeah, sure.  If you say so."

     Sailor Moon started to tap her chin, in contemplation.
"Now... what would be a good name for you?  And you really need a
better costume, you know."

     Ranma started to back off.  "Um.  I'm fine with my ordinary
clothes.  I really don't need anything-- Wha-ha-ha-haiiiee!"

     Backing off might be a good idea.  Backing off and not noticing
a small fountain that the Daimon had heated up during the fight
wasn't.  As Ranma stumbled and fell into the very warm water, her--
or rather his most embarrassing secret was exposed.  And here it
would come-- ridicule, or horror, or accusations--

     "Wow.  How did you do that?  For that matter, why?  I mean,
turning into a boy kinda seems like a strange power."

     Or something completely unexpected by anyone not familar with
Sailor Moon, who was pretty much the very embodiment of love,
kindness, and acceptance.

     ####

     "Too long to explain here and now."

     ####

     "I know you.  You're Moonshadow."

     Ranma blinked.  Sailor Moon had tagged her with the joking name,
after Ranma had made a comment that if she WERE a magical girl, she'd
be in Sailor Moon's shadow.  But this girl-- about thirteen and in an
outfit that made Sailor Moon's uniform seem normal (And respectable--
what was with the cat motif anyway?  Sick and Wrong, in her opinion,
had been redefined) with the odd staff and her own personal one-girl
film crew knew the name.

     "Um.  How do you know that?"

     "I've met Sailor Moon a couple of times.  She mentioned you when
I used the Fight Card... She said you were better."

     "Heh.  I ain't gonna contradict her."

     Ranma was about to leave-- hey, helping this little girl who
somehow held power that matched Sailor Moon's had been kind of fun
while she'd been buying some new Chinese shirts-- when the camera
girl strode up to her and started writing in a small notebook.
"I need your phone number, Moonshadow-san."

     "Um.  What for?"

     "When you do special things, you should wear special clothes.
I saw a movie that reminds me of how you fight, I'm so INSPIRED..."

     And a week later Tomoyo had delivered the first iteration
of the Moonshadow uniform, patterned after the styles used in the
motion picture, "The Matrix".

     ####

     "Besides, it's not really important, Wan."

     ####

     "Whew.  And Kuno thinks he knows how to use a sword..."

     "Thanks a lot, miss..."

     "Call me Moonshadow."  And dressed the part too, due to a second
meeting with Sakura Kinamoto and that strange girl Tomoyo's
insistance that she try the outfit out for size.  When a monster
that made the things the Sailors fought look normal fell through
a hole in the air, pursued by three girls in partial armor and school
uniforms-- a damn odd combination if you asked HER-- well, a Martial
Artist was supposed to protect the weak, right?  Not that Sakura-chan
was weak, or these girls, but the passers-by, well, there wasn't
any real choice?

     "Okay.  I'm Hikaru Shidou... and I'm really sorry about the
monster.  For some reason it followed us from Cephiro.  I...
Umi-chan, Fuu-chan, what are you looking at?"

     And after some embarrassed explanations, both Hikaru and the
so-called Moonshadow were regarding two of three Magic Knights with
considerable cold scorn.

     They did not look ANYTHING alike.  But, just to make certain
that their not looking anything alike was pointed out with more
focus, Moonshadow changed her hairstyle a bit.

     ####

     "What's important is what we've got to do-- by all the Kami and
the Bhuddas, what are THEY doing here?"

     Moonshadow had expected the Sailor Senshi, of course.  After all,
their leader had invited her to this "event".

     The unexpected sight of Sakura Kinamoto, and her boyfriend
Shaoran Li-- two of the most potent magicians in Japan, especially
considering that Sakura was probably the most powerful in the WORLD--
was somehing of a start.  So was the presence of the Magic Knights
of Cephiro, including by definition Hikaru Shidou, who as the Pillar
of that world (For all intents and purposes it's guiding Goddess)
somehow held considerable power in this one.

     Moonshadow was only glad that that annoying Yohko twip hadn't
shown up.  She was on good terms with most of the loose Magical
Girl "sorority", but the Devil Hunter just rubbed her the wrong way.

     Eiyu-Gos, however was in a state of mild shock, and somewhere
inside his heroic mind, terror.  Between the supernatural beauty
and power of the Sailor Senshi-- and there was a LOT of them, nine
as best as he could count-- and the equally palpable sense of power
coming from the girl with the odd staff and the one who bore a
passing resemblance to Ranma-chan he had a feeling that he was
completely outclassed in every way.

     And then he became aware that in her own way, Ranma-- or if you
would, Moonshadow-- had very much the same sense of power.  Not,
perhaps, in sheer raw quantity, but rather tightly focused and
precisely directed.  This was something he'd never seen before when
it came to the Martial Artist... a true gathering of equals.

     In other words, he was surrounded by a huge group of girls--
of varying ages, but all more than comely, and all capable of erasing
his existance with a thought.  For a moment, the newest hero
considered going somewhere safer.  Like, maybe, to the Amazons.

     It was at that moment he realised that Moonshadow wasn't THERE.
As he found himself approaching the massed magical girls, panic began
to grip his heart.  What was he supposed to do now?  Sensei was
missing!  He had no idea how to handle anything like this-- for the
sake of heaven, who WOULD?

     And so, he attempted to go with his instincts.  Since even his
instincts were overwhelmed, what he did next was oddly appropriate.

     As the various females turned to the only not-female there, with
the exception of the aforementioned Shaoran Li and the quite
enigmatic Tuxedo Kamen-- Oh, JOY, not only were there a packof scary
women, there was a MAN whose unconcious grace and nobility made him
look plain and dumpy in only the way a true prince could-- and of
COURSE he was at Sailor Moon's side-- he found himself rubbing the
back of his head in mixed embarrassment and confusion.

     "Um... I'm, well, here with my sensei, except that she's sort of
vanished on me... and... I'm afraid I'm not really sure why she wants
me here..."

     And his curse-given flair abandoning him in the presence of the
assembled powers, he bowed-- with grace, true, for he could never
be awkward in the matter of courtesy, and introduced himself.

     "I'm Tenorioh Wan.  Ah.  I'm really very sorry about this."

     There was a quiet giggle from... nowhere.  "Oh, he'll do well
enough, my friends.  Although I am surprised to find so many of us
here..."

     A swirl of darkness seemed to seep from the shadow of a nearby
trashcan, to resolve into the form of the Moonshadow.  To anyone
there, including "Tenorioh Wan", it seemed like a strange,
supernatural form of materialisation.  To Moonshadow (and Sailor
Moon, who was in on the secret) it was an extension of concepts
theorised by the Umisenken, a bit of ninjitsu trickery, and a few
concepts that Ranma had been making for his own addition to the
Musabetou Kakutou Saotome Ryu, the Tsukikage No Ken... the Moonshadow
style.

     It was, in many ways, similar to the umisenken... the same base
theory, but different enough in execution that it was not sealed.
(Not that the umisenken WAS sealed.  Genma sealed it, true... and
then unsealed it long enough to teach Ranma the basics.  What Genma
never considered was that Ranma had NOT sealed it... but instead
used it as a base for an improved version.)

     In essence, it was the Umisenken revised... to be flashy,
stylish, and highly deceptive in nature.  It was a martial arts
school designed to simulate the abilities of a magical girl.  A bit
frivolous, perhaps... but it served it's purpose.

     As Moonshadow once again appeared from nowhere, confounding
Mercury's expected attempt to figure out how she did that, she moved
to Wan's side.  This, to her chagrin, was a minor faux pas.

     "About TIME," grinned Sailor Jupiter.

     "About time for what?"  The leather-clad not-really-magical
girl blinked.

     "We were wondering when you'd finally get a boyf--"  Sailor Venus
stopped speaking as Moonshadow suddenly appeared in her face,
scowling.

     "I'll say this once.  He's not my boyfriend.  He's my apprentice.
No, he's not avaailable, because he's in training.  And we're not
here for that sort of chat, are we?  I was informed that this would
be the last one, almost certainly.  And I STILL want to know why the
Captor and the Knights are here.  Is it THAT big?"

     Sailor Moon coughed.  "Well, it IS that big, but they showed
on their own.  They could feel it even more than Mars and Neptune."





         "Dreamers may die, but the Dream is eternal..."




         "Dreamers may die, but the Dream is eternal..."



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