Previous chapters can be found on FFN here:
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2314624/1/
Or off my fanworks site here:
http://www.wagnergrp.com/JBW_Website/

-----

For six years, mankind has waged a Secret War against an enemy from
Beyond the Stars. The duel between Ukyou and Konatsu is at hand, and
with something to prove, both are prepared to unleash their full
potential in the pursuit of victory. Meanwhile, in Osaka, Ukyou's father
faces a life or death struggle of his own.

-----

The Road to Cydonia

Chapter XII
Not Yet (or Kuonji Counterattack!)

-----

Written by:
Capn Chryssalid
jbraveboy@gmail.com

-----

Konatsu chewed on the body of his mechanical pencil as he read over the
last question on the written exam. He could feel the answer just under
the surface, or perhaps in the periphery of his mind, and once he found
it, the response was so obvious he couldn't believe he'd hesitated at
all. Writing the answer in English instead of Japanese was also a little
surreal, but after a month of doing it, almost instinctive. Truly, the
Pedagogical Psionic Interface (or 'Reading Rainbow as some called it)
was an amazing thing.

Despite doing some recommended early reading and research, before this
morning he had only had the most basic knowledge of the more advanced
weapons in the UNETCO arsenal. Now, he felt confident that he could
field strip and clean a T-7A2 Advanced Laser Rifle, and he even
understood (abstractly) the workings behind the alien derived family of
plasma weapons. Not the math or anything, but some of the relevant
physics, and the purpose behind the key components.

Understanding all that had also given him a deep appreciation for how
lucky Kuno had been, during Operation Zebra, to have been wearing
personal armor. Back when UNETCO had been first formed, soldiers had
been thrown into battle with the best modern Kevlar and ceramic armor,
which had offered little or no protection beyond some small
psychological benefit. As a trained shinobi, and a martial artist,
Konatsu had a healthy respect (or even antagonism) towards normal guns,
but the more advanced weaponry he had learned about was frightening.

The laser weapons used by UNETCO weren't only essentially instantaneous
between trigger pull and target interception, but they could do terrible
things to a body. Before the Pedagogical instruction, they had all
watched a video of plasma and laser weapons in advance, part of the
"Don't Get Hurt" series. He'd seen a laser cut a hole right through an
alien, seen another shoot off an arm, and another cut an alien
lengthways in half (while their instructor had pointed out blithely how
easy it was to adjust the dwell point of the beam to creating cutting
motions).

The plasma weapons had been even worse!

Unlike with the laser weapons, the plasmas used clips with a set number
of shots. Each one contained a small amount of Elerium-115, a highly
exotic isotope that, under certain conditions, released energy and anti-
matter. Inside a plasma weapon, the energy released by the Elerium
annihilation was then used to superheat a thin helix-like column of
plasma, via a process called Ionic Cyclotron Resonance. Packaged inside
the innermost concentric magnetic bubble, an aggregate of anti-protons
with only one tenth the combined mass of the smallest grain of sand
formed the second hammer blow of the resulting shot when it ultimately
hit its target at around eleven kilometers per second.

The results of this were dramatic. He'd been shown similar film the
first day he'd signed on, and more was forthcoming (though this time
most dealt with misfires rather than deliberate targeting). A human
target hit in the torso would literally explode as if he had swallowed a
bomb, flash vaporizing into a smattering of glassy carbonized bone
fragments. Half the time a hit to the arm or leg, fortunately, tended to
only disintegrate that limb due to over penetration on the part of the
plasma component, preventing the instant death of the previously
attached body.

Taking cover was the only safe thing to do. A good solid tree or a large
rock would shatter explosively, but that was often survivable (and, in
personal or powered armor, the effect was completely harmless). A wall
would generally be shot straight through, unless it was reinforced
concrete. Personal Armor itself could, as Kuno had proven, stand up to
the power of a plasma rifle or pistol, though generally not a heavy
plasma. Powered Armor stood a much better chance, but even then there
were no guarantees.

Yes, Kuno had been quite lucky to escape with no major injuries.

Sighing, Konatsu shook his head and turned back to his test. He was
almost done. Already, the two girls had finished, and so had Ranma,
Ryouga and Mousse. Ukyou and Shampoo had left, and so had the Chinese
fighter, but the two team leaders waited patiently at the front of the
room. Both teams would get together again later today for joint psionic
training and exercises, but they generally hung out separately, so
Konatsu assumed that both leaders were waiting for the last of their
respective team members to finish.

He turned to the next question:

"In the field, you notice that your plasma rifle produces a short high-
pitched whine when fired. What is the problem with it, if any? Justify
your answer."

That was an easy one - Konatsu didn't have much experience with tests or
schools, but he still didn't think that most high school teachers
devised as many trick type questions as whomever had written this exam
did. Maybe a third of them had been like this one. There was nothing
wrong with the rifle, since the plasma stream made that sound due to
charged particles pushing aside air molecules.

Finishing the last question a few minutes later, he went back to check
over the exam from the beginning. It was all pretty easy, and mostly
just a test of one's comprehension of the information jammed psionically
into one's brain. A few days of practice and a certification test after
that, and he'd be ready to go into the field with an advanced rifle.
Until they had that level of ability, Command would never let them
participate in missions against the more dangerous alien species.

Deciding he was as good as done, he walked up to the front of the room
and slid his exam into the brown folder that sat alone on a glass desk.
There, it would wait with its peers for proper evaluation. He saw Ranma
nod approvingly at him, and he smiled shyly. He was almost to the door
when he heard someone stand up. He'd been expecting Ranma, but to his
surprise, it was the leader of India Squad.

"Could I talk to you for a minute, Konatsu?" Ryouga asked, politely.

"Of course, Hibiki-taichou!" he replied, bowing his head slightly. The
lost one seemed a little bemused by the response. Konatsu could guess it
was more respectful than what he was used to from the members of his
squad. Tacking on the taichou suffix to indicate his superior rank was
likely something the others probably wouldn't tend to do.

Ryouga opened the door to the room directly adjacent to the one the exam
had been held in. Shirokuro, his ever present companion whenever he went
in the base complex, looked up to make sure he didn't somehow get lost,
and then lowered her head to rest on her paws when it became obvious
that he would be fine. Like the last room, this one was also designed
for small conferences or lectures; a dozen chairs sat around a table, a
pull down projection screen hung from the far wall, and a whiteboard
adorned another.

"Excuse me for asking so abruptly, but..." the shinobi smoothed the
creases on his pants legs and sat in a demure fashion. "Is this about
Miss Ukyou?"

Ryouga settled for simply leaning against the wall.

"Is it that obvious?" he asked, and to his credit, he actually sounded
somewhat guilty.

"It's quite alright that this isn't about me, Hibiki-taichou." Konatsu
offered a wan smile. "I'm happy just doing my job without drawing too
much negative attention."

>From the look on the other man's face, Konatsu could see he understood
somewhat. Being a center of attention wasn't always a good thing, and
for someone with a naturally timid personality, it wasn't desirable at
all.

"It isn't that..." Ryouga persisted, a little despite himself. "I've
never heard a bad word spoken about you by anyone, you know. You're a
valuable member of what we're trying to build here. You should be proud,
Konatsu."

"I am proud," the male kunoichi insisted. "Very proud! Hibiki-taichou,
as far back as I can remember people have used me - used my abilities
and my so called talents - for their own benefit. My step-sisters and
step-mother were not particularly... effective kunoichi, so they used
me. Occasionally, our clients made use of my abilities as well, though
my true gender put some of them off. I was unhappy, but I understood it
was my fate. Even after Miss Ukyou gave me the courage to leave, she...
took some advantage of me. I didn't really mind."

"But here," Konatsu spoke with genuine happiness. "Here, I am doing
something that is just... and right. I'm making a difference, and I'm
part of something gratifying. For the first time in my life, I think I'm
doing something my parents would have been proud of. That makes me
proud, too, and I don't mind if I don't have the spotlight. I wouldn't
even know what to do if I were thrust into it."

For a few seconds after Konatsu finished, Ryouga stood still, leaning
casually against the wall. Slowly, he smiled.

"I'm glad to hear that. After all, what is a man without a cause;
without a reason to live? Just an animal, wandering from place to place;
empty inside. You should know, Konatsu... I'd have been honored to have
you in my squad," the Special Lieutenant said, and feeling better about
it, prepared to broach the subject at hand.

"Thank you, sir!"

"Now..." Ryouga let out a deep huff of air. "Ukyou."

Konatsu delicately cupped his hands together. "What about her?"

He came out and asked, "What is your motivation behind this duel,
Konatsu?"

The effeminate ninja sighed softly, and stared at his hands. "I want her
to see me. To see the real me. That's all."

"She," Konatsu stammered a bit, "She's a very special girl to me."

"Do you love her?" Ryouga asked, not beating around the bush.

He nodded slowly. "I think I do."

"But you must know..." The so called lost boy craned his neck, searching
the other man's posture and body language. "She may die out there. You
can't protect her. Can you put that aside for the good of the mission?"

Konatsu looked up at him then, stared him straight in the eyes. "Miss
Ukyou knew the risks when she agreed to sign up. She's a martial artist.
That lifestyle alone puts you at risk. But... but when we have our duel,
I'll see how strong she is. I'll feel it, and it'll be all the proof I
need to know she can fight her own battles."

"In that case..." Ryouga said, pushing himself off the wall. "I'll just
say this: good luck."

Konatsu blinked at this. "But... you're training her, aren't you? Or
helping her train?"

"And that's why I told you 'good luck.'" Ryouga smiled, showing off his
oversized canines in a rare display of mixed confidence and mirth. He
reached for the door handle, turning his back on the ninja.

"For what its worth," he added, tone more somber. "I hope the both of
you find what you're looking for in this. Ukyou will be a happier person
if she stops gasping at straws, and takes a breath of fresh air."

Konatsu couldn't find any fault in that statement, but there was
something, while on this topic, that he now felt comfortable enough to
broach (having already bared his feelings on the matter).

"Hibiki-taichou," he spoke up, just as Ryouga stared to open the door.
"Can... can I ask you something?"

The Special Lieutenant paused, and pivoted until he could face Konatsu
without looking directly over his shoulder. "I don't see why not."

"If you don't mind me asking..." The genius ninja stood, again
straightening his pants and holding them in place with his hands, as if
he were wearing a kimono or dress. "You knew Miss Ukyou before I did.
>From what I've heard, you two worked together a few times before. Then,
you just stopped. What happened? Did the two of you ever... have
anything?"

"Me... and her?" Ryouga scoffed dismissively, but slowly came around to
elaborating. "Ukyou seemed nice enough at first, and yes, we did work
together a few times to break up Ranma and Akane, and... do a few other
things. We even spent a vacation together in Hokkaido, after I got the
wrong hot springs tickets during that stupid contest..."

He shook his head. "She was kind of violent and tomboyish, hitting me
for making mistakes or getting lost. But it was even kind of fun, too,
and I didn't always mind having someone along to talk to, or just walk
with. Most of the time I was just a sounding board for her schemes."

That evoked a small, wistful laugh.

"But then..." he hesitated, and looked away from Konatsu, boring a hole
in the door with his eyes. "I happened to drop in on another one of her
brilliant plans, involving a place called the Cursed Tunnel of Lost
Love. It seemed like a good idea, and I was never that good at turning
down any chance to win over Akane back then. Ukyou told me I was
supposed to stick with her, and let Ranma and Akane go off together, but
about halfway through, those two had one of their fights, and Akane ran
after me, asking if I'd escort her out."

"Without thinking it through - hell, just having her want to be with me
for once fried my brain - I agreed, planning to drag the whole thing out
as long as possible. But... things fell through, and eventually Ranma
and Akane ended up back together. Ukyou was pissed that I'd almost
screwed everything up, that... that I'd turned on her, but we made up,
and just as Akane and Ranma got to the exit, where we'd heard no couple
could survive unscathed..."

He groaned in a disgusted fashion. "The spirits of the broken couples
completely ignored Ranma and Akane, and pounced on us instead! They
wouldn't listen to reason, and we ended up fighting them. This was just
a few months after I'd almost died on Mt. Horai, during the fight with
Herb and the Musk, and when the spirits started to drag Ukyou away... I
got a little hasty, and used my Bakusai Tenketsu to bring the whole exit
crashing down. By the time we got out, it was too late."

"I blamed her for taking my hands and making us look like a couple, and
she blamed me for acting like a 'typical macho jackass boyfriend' and
for trying to hug her, which I didn't. After that... we barely talked.
She didn't want anything to do with me."

"And you?" Konatsu prompted. "What did you think of her?"

"I thought..." Ryouga's fist tightened around the doorknob. "I thought
she was a friend. It doesn't matter anymore. Is that all you wanted to
ask?"

"Yes," Konatsu said, and bowed his head. "Thank you."

"Later," the lost one offered, and quickly left. Watching him walk down
the hall, lead by Shirokuro, Konatsu wondered how honest about that last
part the other man had been. If fact, it had sounded like he and Ukyou
had been quite close, or at least closer than Konatsu had ever really
been with the girl he loved. As it was, he felt a little jealous, not so
much because he worried that Ryouga might try and reacquaint himself
with Ukyou, but because said lost boy seemed to have had fun times with
her on strange schemes and adventures.

All he had ever gotten to do was wait tables.

-----

"Damnit! This one would have worked if you hadn't screwed up, you
jackass!"

"Hey! Don't try and pin this on me! I was just trying to help!"

"I don't want to hear it! Not from you! Why'd you have to go and do
that? Be like that?!"

"If it wasn't for me, you'd..."

"No. Just... just stop it, Ryouga. Just... just leave me alone. Just go
away."

"Ukyou..."

"Didn't you hear me?! Get lost!"

Of all the phrases she'd had to use...

'Didn't you hear me?! Get lost!'

-----

'Didn't you hear me?! Get lost!'

Ukyou fell to the ground, writhing and clutching her left arm. She
didn't scream, instead hissing in great gulps of air through clenched
teeth and periodically slamming her fist into the floor. In front of
her, her giant battle spatula stood upright, the wide half of the weapon
wedged into a tatami mat. The front face of it was still smoking, and
most of the area around it was torn up, save for the part immediately
behind it.

Ryu whistled. "That was a BIG one."

Ryouga lowered his hands, the fingertips still leaking green and black
emotive ki from beneath the bandages and fighting tape. Bits and pieces
of burned cloth fell from his hands. That last shishi hokoudan had been
more powerful than expected. He quietly cursed Konatsu for reminding him
of that old argument. He'd all but forgotten about it until now.

Or had he?

"I guess she's done for today..." he started to say.

"Mada mada," Ukyou slurred in Japanese, the equivalent of 'not yet.'
Slowly getting up to her knees, she clung protectively to her left arm.
She was bleeding, from just below the shoulder and around the elbow.
Those were just scratches, however. The last ki blast had flayed away a
few lines of uppermost epidermis, revealing pink new skin, not yet ready
to fact the outside world. She wasn't as tough as most of the guys, and
she didn't handle shearing or concussive forces as well.

Looking at her, Konatsu's words came back to him, and he wondered.

Ukyou could be quite personable and friendly; it was really only when
she schemed to break Akane and Ranma up that she lost her cool and her
confidence wavered. It was those times when an uglier side of her came
to the surface: self-conscious, overly defensive, snappy and short
tempered, and easily falling into a pit of jealousy. And when her plan
went awry, as it always inevitably did, the first thing she did was look
for someone to blame.

He could take being ordered around, and even having people expect
results from him, but fear of failure and rejection when dealing with
girls had always made him nervous. Having Ukyou snarl at him after the
fact just made things worse. This was much better, far superior in his
eyes: this fighter named Ukyou, bloody but unbowed.

'I never want to see you in another light,' he thought, just then.

"Mada mada?" he mimicked her tone, and motioned to Ryu with his head.
The other fighter hesitated for a second, and then raised his arms.
Slashing them apart, he announced his signature technique.

"Kijin Raishu Dan!"

Ukyou quickly rolled and got behind her megaspatula, using the broad
body of the weapon to block the three vacuum blades. She did a good job
using it to shield her small frame, but far from perfect. Ryouga wasn't
quite satisfied. As Ukyou herself had said: mada mada.

Not yet.

Another two vacuum blades splashed against the nearly indestructible
surface of Ukyou's new mega spatula, Hera-sama (or Spatula-sama for the
'Engrish' speakers). After a few seconds, it became obvious that Ukyou
was catching her breath, and that she had no intention of leaving what
cover she had. Ryouga crossed his arms and smirked.

"Flush her out," he said, speaking to Ryu. "Make her run."

"I've got just the thing!" The Yamasenken Master took a step forward,
and altered his stance, pivoting slightly and moving one arm forward and
the other out to the side at a perpendicular angle. "Kumon Reformed
Style Yamasenken: Kijin Raishu Tekidan!"

Ukyou, this time, had the good sense to move. With a yelp, she jumped to
her feet as the vacuum blade curved around at a severe angle, like a
boomerang, to strike from around her static defensive position. Ryouga
watched; not only evaluating Ukyou's ability to move while injured and
carrying her weapon, which still had the practice weights attached, but
also Ryu's new technique. The Kijin Raishu Tekidan, or Demon God Assault
Grenade, was designed to defeat enemies hiding behind defilade, or under
cover. It could curve into a trench, around a tree, arc through a
doorway...

It was promising.

Ukyou, however, didn't seem to be enjoying it. Back flipping, the girl
used her weapon to parry a regular vacuum blade, and then just barely
brought the heavy megaspatula around to guard her back. A half second
later, a curving Demon God Assault Grenade hit the area that would have
otherwise been her unprotected right shoulder blade. Ryu persisted, and
Ukyou continued to dodge. It was good, but it wasn't exactly what Ryouga
was looking for.

Some more incentive was in order.

Curling his fingers, a green and black orb of light appeared in the palm
of his hand. It twisted wildly, as ki flowed like water out of his
mauled fingers. Never before had he been able to pump this much raw
spiritual and mental energy into his attacks. Only the perfect shishi
hokoudan could compare, and then only because that technique released
emotive ki from the entire body all at once.

In the middle of his hand, the ball of ki grew larger and smaller,
condensing and expanding as he poured more into it. Most of the time, it
was more a Lion Roar Shotgun than a proper Bullet, with the ki widening
dramatically once it left the hands. Now, he could weave it all together
much more tightly. When Captain Nivelles had asked him to hit a target
at 100 meters with his shishi hokoudan, he'd barely been able to, and
even then he'd only nicked it. Now, he was sure he could at least give
it a good hard shake.

Straightening out his arm, he opened his hand, and let the ball of ki
free.

It screamed like a banshee, and in the half second it took to reach her,
Ukyou's eyes widened in panic and she brought her battle spatula up in
front of her. Then, she disappeared in the torrent of green and black
that washed over her like a tide. Again, Ryouga found his fingers
leaking excess ki, like a broken tap leaked water. A bit of
concentration, however, and it ebbed down and stopped like normal.

There was still no sign of Ukyou, at least until he took a few steps to
the side and saw her on the floor. She wasn't moving. For a brief
second, something inside him clenched tight and he didn't breathe. Then,
just as he was about to call for a medic, he saw her chest rise. With
Ryu just behind him, Ryouga walked up to her with a slightly hurried
pace.

Kneeling, he took her pulse, and confirmed that it was fine. Or as fine
as you'd expect. As if stirred by someone's touch, she coughed, blood
covering her red lips and making a few crimson spots on the floor. Her
eyes opened, and he reached down to force her to look at him. Her eyes
weren't dilated, and it didn't look like she had a concussion, so she
was probably just a bit stunned.

He sighed, and stood up.

Ukyou Kuonji had seen better days. The ribbon she wore had been blown
off, leaving her hair disheveled and falling in every wild direction.
She'd taken a vacuum blade to her left temple at a steep angle,
preventing a cut but causing a lot of swelling. Just like the last time,
her left arm had been caught by his shishi hokoudan. Having suffered
from similar wounds before, he knew how ki blasts hurt like a thousand
needles, activating undue numbers of afferent nerves. She'd managed to
keep from getting hit much around her torso, but her right leg had three
cuts, two on the calf and one on the outer thigh.

"Uuuuggghhh..." she moaned, wincing as her eyes filled with tears from
the pain in her left arm. "Oh, gods...!"

He stood there, waiting.

Rolling onto her right side, she slammed her fist into the ground a few
times. He had to resist the urge to cheer her on, to shout
encouragement. There wouldn't be that on the battlefield. In a real
battle, there wouldn't be anyone wanting you to win; there wouldn't be
any fans cheering you on. There would only be a malevolence that wished
you were beaten, or worse. You had to get back up in spite of that,
despite the fact that you were alone.

"Stand by yourself!" he thought. "For yourself! Ukyou...!"

"Damnit! Damnit!" she let out a few labored breaths as she started to
tuck in her legs. In the process, she scraped her right leg, and one of
the cuts there. "Ah! FUCK! Son of a bitch!"

He smiled; that had always been one of the more amusing things about
her. Growing up in a boy's school, renouncing her femininity after Ranma
and Genma left her behind, Ukyou had developed a taste for colorful
vocabulary. Akane grumbled a lot, and she had no problems with 'idiot'
or even 'dumbass' but that was as much as one could expect from her.
Shampoo cursed in Chinese, and often quite foully, but that was usually
sexist claptrap. When she was pissed off enough, Ukyou could trade words
with a wounded sailor.

And, soon enough, she was on one knee, and then on her feet.

He watched her for a second as she caught her breath, and then, without
the slightest warning, his hand lashed out like a striking serpent. It
met part of the handle of her battle spatula with a clang, catching him
just above the wrist. Not bad. Not bad at all.

"Good speed," he complimented, and pushed a bit harder with that arm.
Ukyou's legs held as she was pushed back, and so did her hold on her
weapon. "Now, how about you get that arm looked at?"

Ukyou managed a small grin. They were past the point where she had to
say something cocky to impress them or save face. Taking stock of
herself, her condition, and how long they'd been at it, she let out a
deep breath and nodded. He stepped back and dropped his arm. A part of
him wanted to help her stand, and he could see Ryu felt the same way.
But he held out his hand and stopped the Yamasenken Master.

Ukyou propped herself up with her megaspatula, and stood by herself,
fighting off fatigue and exhaustion.

"This isn't dodging practice," Ryouga critiqued, looking at her
seemingly without remorse. "If you get into that kind of habit, Konatsu
will beat you, and the enemy will kill you. You aren't Ranma. You don't
have the endurance to dodge all day."

He tapped her weapon with the knuckle of his right index finger.

"This is your shield. This will block anything."

"Tell that to my left arm," Ukyou growled, lifting up the pained
appendage.

"When you use your weapon," Ryouga replied. "You have to believe in it.
When I used my ki attack before, you thought to yourself 'I think I'm
safe,' and 'I think I'll be able to block this.' So part of you got hit.
Next time, 'believe that you will be safe.' 'Believe that you will
block.' Thinking, but not believing, halves your effectiveness."

"It... it isn't easy to believe that, when there's this... this wave of
energy bearing down on you!" Ukyou winced at the memory.

"No," he said in response. "No. It isn't."

For a few seconds, she started at him, and then briefly at Ryu. He could
see how his words bounced around in her mind as she thought more about
it, and tried to assimilate it. She didn't become discourage, like a
part of him had feared. She learned. She kept trying. And it impressed
him.

And he wished he'd seen this side of her a year ago.

In the light of adversity, her ki was a beautiful beacon, and he wanted
to see it shine out in the open. He wasn't done. Not yet. As promised,
there would be more. As promised, he would make every moment of training
more difficult than the last. Only on the edge of breaking could she
grasp that light inside her that he saw behind her eyes.

Mada mada.

Not just yet.

-----

The twenty first of November came more quickly than Konatsu could have
imagined.

Waiting in the dojo proper, he saw another individual enter. There was a
small crowd already in attendance; people who had heard that a duel was
about to take place, and who had decided to drop by to check it out. A
few of these were Dojo regulars he had seen before, and some of the
others were mentors of the 'kids' in the two new squads. The only
conspicuous absences were those of India Squad, who had been sent off
over a day ago on a mission and had yet to return.

"Not expecting this much attendance, eh?"

The question came from Konatsu's own mentor, Sergeant Mario Feretti, and
the only person he had actually asked to come (besides Ukyou of course).
Over the last month, Konatsu had developed an appreciation for the man's
wisdom and council. Secretly, he thought of the Italian as sort of like
a laid back older brother. Mario didn't seem the least bit put off by
Konatsu's peculiarities, and he had always kept an open ear when the
young ninja felt overwhelmed and under prepared for his new profession.

The other man wasn't very interested in martial arts, but he was
concerned about how Konatsu's feelings towards Ukyou could interfere
with his job. Mario had suggested talking to the girl about things, and
this was one bit of advice Konatsu hadn't been able to take. He knew
Ukyou wouldn't want to talk about that sort of thing, (the awkwardness
of it aside) and that if he tried to engage her in that sort of
conversation as they were now it would only end in a pitiable rejection.

She had to see the real him.

Then, only then, could he have a chance of standing up to Ranma by
comparison.

"No," Konatsu replied sadly. "This is Shampoo's doing..."

"You sure you want to go through with this?" Sergeant Feretti asked, his
hands in his pants pockets as he glanced casually around the room. "You
know there's talk about how Juliet Squad is still struggling to find
common ground."

"We have our common ground," Konatsu said in return. "The problem is
when we get back home. Saotome-taichou has tried to rein things in, but
he doesn't like being... hard on people. But I think things have gotten
better, not worse."

"After all this, you can say that?" Keretti sighed and shook his head,
walking a few feet to stand next to the younger soldier. "You're a
surprising guy, Konatsu. I think I'd be pretty bitter if I were in your
shoes."

The shinobi chuckled good-naturedly. "You'd never fit in my size 8s, I'm
afraid."

"Egh! I wouldn't want to!"

For a few seconds they smiled and laughed, before a chime interrupted
them, signaling the time.

"Noon..." Konatsu closed his eyes and mentally went over his gear. Then
he felt a familiar presence enter the room, and he opened his eyes. It
was Ukyou. She walked in, and he went over what he saw in preparation
for the fight to come. He already knew about her new battle spatula, but
not about its full range of abilities. Ukyou had always wielded her
traditional battlespat with bare hands, but now she wore fairly heavy
gloves. She also wore scout type light personal armor, rather than full
kit (he wore much the same under his carmine colored kunoichi uniform),
and a fully stocked bandoleer over that. With her hair tied together
behind her neck into a ponytail, rather than just behind her ears
letting it fall freely; she looked to be all business.

With all that on, it was impossible to identify any sort of injuries.

That was just as well. His natural instinct as a ninja was to seek out
and exploit any injury or weakness in a target, even in an 'honest'
duel. He'd seen Ukyou before, coming from her training with India Squad,
wrapped in bandages and limping. He wondered if she had trained just as
hard by herself over the last thirty hours since India Squad had left,
or if she'd taken a break to build up her stamina and heal the last of
her lingering wounds.

"Miss Ukyou," he approached her, and bowed his head politely. "Thank you
very much for coming."

She bowed back, though not quite as deeply. "Let's both do our best."

"Yes!" he agreed, though inside he ran her tone of voice over and over
for any sign of sarcasm. No: no he didn't think there had been any. She
didn't sound angry, either. Without further formality, the two entered
the separate half of the dojo designated for serious duels. It was the
same one India and Juliet Squad used for serious training.

Despite knowing the dimensions of the room by memory already, he
instinctively looked for anything in the environment that could be used
to his advantage. There was nothing, of course. The room was square,
with nothing sticking out on the walls or ceiling. There was nothing to
hide behind, use as cover, no lights to take out (sheltered as they were
behind a transparent version of that alien metal), and nothing beside
the tatami mats to use as makeshift shields or weapons. That put him at
something of a disadvantage, but he wasn't too worried. It was just a
bit of an inconvenience.

On the plus side, he didn't have to worry about collateral damage here.

"Miss Ukyou," he took the opportunity to say one last thing. "Please
defend yourself effectively."

"You, too, sugar," she said with a smile. "Shall we?"

Konatsu was on the verge of speaking, having just opened his mouth, when
he saw it: Ukyou's Kizashi. This was similar to what Sakkijutsu was for
ki, except relating to physical movements and intentions. Kizashi was
the natural intention, thoughts and movements that occur before one acts
and a high level martial artist could read it quite clearly in a lower
level one. Even the alien enemy (probably) could be read in this
fashion, provided one survived enough encounters to become sensitive to
it.

His eyes moved instantly from Ukyou's face to her feet. She was moving,
and fast, too. Her right foot was already skimming just over the surface
of the floor as she began an Akichi movement - though the 'vacant land'
technique was known by many names, like flying step, and severing step,
they were variations on the same speed technique. He hadn't thought that
Ukyou knew it, however. It involved using one's ki to drastically reduce
the friction in one (or both feet) during a charge, while at the same
time creating massive momentum with a different limb, usually the other
leg.

"Not enough!" he thought, and pivoted to the side as the flat of her
battle spatula filled the space he had occupied a heartbeat ago. At
almost the same instant, Ukyou shifted her grip, and the flat of the
spatula turned into the edge headed right in his direction in a
horizontal slash.

Hirazuki...!

But with a something much larger than a sword! Combining the Hirazuki
and the Akichi must have been quite energy intensive, since the former
put strain on the legs muscles, and the latter on the upper arms and
thighs. It was a good move, though. Right off the bat, she'd impressed
him. Flexing his wrist just right, he activated the hidden springs
concealed behind the cloth around his forearms as he raised his arms.

Twin tonfa sprung into position, blocking Ukyou's blade with a clang.

To her credit, Ukyou didn't show any surprise by the move. Her left foot
skidded across the ground as she shifted position and took the
opportunity to strike with the blunt end of the battle spatula. That end
was weighted, he knew, and rather than trying to block it he used his
upper body speed to lean away and avoid it. He felt rather than saw
Ukyou's right foot scoot forward under cover of the move, and he lifted
his own foot before she could trip him.

Tricky!

It also stole any chance he had for a powerful counterattack, and he had
to settle for adjusting his balance, and striking with a snap kick.
Ukyou let her momentum carry her into a lower stance, and the kick
passed well over her shoulder. Not letting him see, even for an instant,
her back, she pushed off with her left foot and into a reverse thrust.
With beguiling ease, he planted his foot on the blunt end of the spatula
as it shot towards him, and commandeering some of her own strength, he
took to the air and flipped over her head.

Turning in midair, he raised his tonfa again to block as Ukyou spun her
weapon in her hands as both a defensive shield and an offensive strike.
She was collected, cool, and the moment his feet got within an inch of
the ground, she was ready to resume her offensive. She used her battle
spatula like a staff, now, or maybe a naginata, as she brought both ends
into play. A high strike was avoided, but he had to ducked low and
leveled his arm to block a strike to the midsection. Pushing the weapon
aside to force an opening, he lunged low towards her pelvis.

Pivoting slightly, Ukyou avoided a potentially fight ending blow to her
upper left hip. Falling back, Konatsu back flipped out of her counter-
counter strike and kicked out with his right leg nicking her in the
stomach. Maneuvering with his hands a hundred and eighty degrees, still
upside down, he kicked again, this time forward with his other leg.
Ukyou blocked it with the shaft of her Hera-sama, and then ducked and
spun, reversing the grip on her weapon to hit him in his vulnerable left
elbow.

It was a bad position he'd gotten himself into.

Pushing off with his upper body strength, he shifted the part of him
that was struck from the elbow to the forearm, guarded as it was by the
tonfa. It wasn't a clean block, though, and the force of it sent him
tumbling. Rolling from the fall, he was on his feet in a second, around
the same time Ukyou got back into a standing fighting posture.

Rolling his shoulders, he heard a few pops of protest from his bones.

"It would seem you are quite proficient in the close and medium range,
Miss Ukyou," Konatsu said, and he rotated his wrists, retracting the
tonfa. "I'm afraid I'll have to soften you up a bit."

"That would seem the prudent thing to do," she agreed, holding a wide
grip on her Hera-sama.

"Then..." Konatsu's hands crossed in a blur. "Kunoichi Ninpou! Fujin
Seikyu Senpu!"

By the look on her face, he knew this was her first time seeing the
move, as a hundred slips of paper exploded outwards in a storm before
converging on her position. The Heartless Bill Whirlwind was not in and
of itself very dangerous, but that fact was not immediately apparent to
those on the receiving end of it. Ukyou spun her battle spatula in
furious figure eights moving to the left and right. The second her eyes
left him, Konatsu made his move.

"An opening!" he yelled, stepping into his own Akichi. The weakness of
Akichi, or any similar speed enhancing move, was that it only worked in
one direction. Once you started moving on that vector, forward, backward
or to the sides in any degree, you had to stop yourself completely to
change direction. Sliding extremely low and close to the ground, almost
skating off it like it were ice, he pushed off with his hands and kicked
upwards. It was the weakest angle of Ukyou's defense - from below.

Reacting quickly, she let her body go limp a moment before his heel
introduced itself to her chin. Twisting in the air from the blow,
Konatsu was about to move in for a second strike when a flurry of mini-
spatulas, which Ukyou used like throwing knives, threatened to intercept
his motion. Raising both hands, he moved like a blur. By the time Ukyou
landed on her feet, he stood with three of her mini-spatulas in each
hand, caught deftly between his fingers.

Snapping his fingers out, he threw them to the side.

"That was pretty good, Konatsu-kun," Ukyou said, wiping a bit of blood
from the corner of her mouth. "Now, let me show you something..."

She then detached some sort of container from the strap on her shoulder,
and fitted it into place on the inside of her forearm, just below the
wrist. Then, she popped the cap on it, letting it hang from a short
plastic cord. Holding out her battle spatula, Ukyou concentrated, and
swiped her free hand past her other wrist while pulling back on her
weapon. Her free hand thus passed down to the wide flat face of the mega
spatula, leaving a trail of smoke in its wake.

Konatsu's eyes widened, realizing what she had done.

Ukyou pulled back her hand, and turned it palm up, revealing a fully
cooked plain okonomiyaki (or 'japanese pizza' as some called it) with no
extra toppings. Having worked for her in her restaurant for long enough,
he understood this new twist on her traditional fighting style. Ukyou's
family used a grill to cook materials subsequently used in special
techniques, as well as to earn a living. Without said grill, they could
not fight to their full effectiveness.

Ukyou's new spatula, however, solved that problem. The reason she wore
heavy gloves was because the spatula was also a grill itself, and could
heat up enough to flash cook okonomiyaki in a single pass. The container
she'd attached to the inside of her right hand wrist was some sort of
batter mixture. The product of this probably didn't taste very good, but
it could be used for Kuonji style special techniques.

"Well? What do you think, Konatsu-kun?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Interesting..." He grinned, and a half dozen shuriken appeared between
his fingers. "Miss Ukyou! Very interesting!"

With a savage cry, okonomiyaki met shuriken, exploding in midair.

-----

Osaka

Kuonji's was a small okonomiyaki and yakitori restaurant in the famous
shopping districts of southern Osaka. In comparison to many nearby
establishments, only the nearby Oda Tonkatsu could claim to attract more
of the carnivorously inclined. Kuonji's was known among the business
crowd for fair prices and generous portions, and come lunch hour it was
frequently packed tight with businessmen, hungry shoppers, sports
enthusiasts, and even the occasional tourist.

An open kitchen and large grill invited all to witness the preparation
of culinary art in the form of piping hot okonomiyaki, cooked in a
family style purported to be over two hundred years old, or in an
assortment of other treats. Skewered grilled chicken wings marinated in
a savory concoction of soy sauce, sugar, sake and mirin sated the hunger
of a group of men taking a break from work. Elsewhere, a pretty twenty-
something college girl enjoyed chicken meatballs and Yaki-onigiri - rice
balls roasted to crunchy golden perfection.

Overseeing it all, the gruff looking but friendly grill master looked up
to greet every new customer.

"Welcome to Kuonji's!" Kazuo Kuonji's deep voice boomed as the newcomer
stepped through the beaded screen door. The man was alone, and a moment
later an attentive female waitress guided him over to the bar. He was a
tall fellow, given that he was Japanese and not foreign, with a long
blue traveling coat. A curtain of short black hair hid his eyes, and he
had a beard more closely cut than Kazuo's own.

His mere presence screamed Martial Artist to the grill master's refined
senses.

He could smell it on the man.

"What'll it be, pal?" Kazuo asked, his hands cooking up an okonomiyaki
and adding the necessary ingredients without needing his eyes for
supervision. The newcomer stared for a few seconds at the menu the
waitress had handed him.

"This looks good," the man said, putting the menu down. "I'll have the
'deluxe with everything and then some' and a glass of water."

"Comin' right up!" Kazuo went through making another dish for another
customer while he got the batter going. While waiting for those to cook,
he quickly poured a glass of water, saturated it with ice from an old
fashioned ice box, and handed it to the new arrival.

"I'd like to ask..." the man began, taking hold of his drink. "Is this
the same style of okonomiyaki that they used to serve in Ucchans, in
Tokyo?"

"Oh? So that explains it, then," Kazuo said with a small smile. "Yes.
Ukyou's my daughter, and heir to the family style."

"I see! Shame about that mess a while back. I hope she's alright."

"The restaurant was destroyed, but she wasn't there at the time," Kazuo
explained, and then realized he hadn't introduced himself yet. "My name
is Kazuo, by the way. Kuonji Kazuo."

"Hibiki. Hibiki Tetsuya," the tall man replied, with a bow of his own.
"Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise," Kazuo said, and flipped an okonomiyaki on the grill nearby.
Four others were just ready, and he tapped a small bell to summon one of
his two waitresses. With a single motion each, he flipped the four
servings into the air and onto a plate. "Order up! Number 24!"

One of the girls came by, apparently used to the acrobatic presentation
of foodstuffs, and headed over to a table of hungry customers. Kazuo
continued with his cooking, realizing that this Tetsuya person was
watching him closely, though not directly. The smell of burning leaves
emanating from the man became stronger. It was how Kazuo conceptualized
his ki, and the ki of others. For most people, it was subdued completely
so that they smelt of nothing at all. This Hibiki fellow was completely
different.

A part of Kazuo wanted to ask him why he was here, what he'd thought of
Ucchan's back in Nerima, or a half dozen other things. Not to pass the
time, but to try and discern why this obviously powerful martial artist
was here. His instinct was telling him that it wasn't just for an
affordable and delicious lunch.

"Here ya go!" He handed Hibiki a plate with the house special:
'everything and then some.' It was quite a meal, stuffed high with
seafood, pork, and veggies.

"Thank you!" Tetsuya said in English, without even mispronouncing the
't,' bespeaking some practice with the American language. He immediately
started to dig in with a true martial artist's appetite. For a few
minutes, Kazuo allowed himself to forget about the man's powerful and
dangerous smelling ki, as the next order came for some yakitori and two
small okonomiyakis.

Those few minutes passed all too soon.

"Wow! That was really very good! The Kuonji Style really does live up to
its culinary reputation!" Tetsuya said amiably, picking the last bit off
his plate and washing it down by finishing the water in his glass.

"Thank you for the compliments," Kazuo replied, bowing his head
slightly. He was about to turn and start on the bill when the other man
coughed politely.

"However..." Tetsuya continued, speaking more slowly and purposefully.
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to make something of a scene, shortly. By
the motions of your hands, and the slight hesitation in your voice, you
must have suspected I was here for more than a good meal. So this
shouldn't come as a great surprise."

Kazuo sighed. "I suppose so. If it isn't too much trouble, can you let
the others finish their food? I wouldn't want to hurt this restaurant's
reputation."

Tetsuya smiled calmly. "I understand completely. Please make whatever
preparations you like."

"Hotaru-chan!" Kazuo quickly singled out one of his waitresses and
brought her over to the grill. "Could you please put up the closed sign?
Then make sure the customers know that, due to an emergency that is
forcing us to close for an hour or so, they should take their food and
enjoy it outside in the fresh air. Also..." he frowned a bit. "Also tell
them that their food is free, again, due to this emergency forcing us to
close up."

Tetsuya watched at the girl did as she'd been told, and in a few
minutes, the last customer left, and the chairs and tables had been put
away. The eminent grill master then politely told his two waitresses to
take a break of a few hours. Then, with a certain amount of resignation,
he went back behind the grill and retrieved something: a spatula as tall
as he was, with a blade wider than his chest. White tape circled the
gripping areas, partly covering an engraving of a dragon with bells on
its body that coiled around the shaft of the weaponized utensil.

"May I ask..." Kazuo tied a white chef's headband in place, and slipped
on a bandoleer of smaller spatulas. "Why you want to fight me? Do you
have a grudge with our family?"

"Not at all," Tetsuya answered, crossing his arms behind his back. "I
found your food to be exceptionally good, your service polite and fast.
I have never actually been to Ucchans, but I've heard it is of quite the
same level of service."

"Then why do you challenge me?" Kazou asked, shouldering his battle
spatula.

"I've been told to evaluate your usefulness and the power of your
martial arts style," Tetsuya spoke as casually as if he were drawing
mention to the pleasant weather outside. "If you survive, then I'll take
you to see some of my associates."

"And Ukyou?"

"No." The tall man shrugged. "We don't have her. But... you should be
stronger than her anyway. So: let's see if I'm told to let you live."

Kazuo inhaled, and smelt burning leaves all around him. Rather than wait
for an attack to come, however, he walked around the grill, and charged.
He was deceptively strong, even for the barrel-chested middle aged man
he seemed to be. One swipe of the family's strongest battle spatula,
Suzu-hime, recast from a melted down Buddhist bell, could slice
anything!

Hibiki Tetsuya simply held up his hand.

-----

Hera-sama's killing edge cut clean through the Kawarimi, neatly
bisecting the makeshift straw dummy that had, just a moment ago, taken
the place of the real Konatsu. Spinning her weapon overhead, Ukyou
stomped down with her right foot to cut short her lateral motion. Twice,
the sound of metal deflecting metal filled the air as Konatsu descended
from above, pushing off from the ceiling to build power.

The nimble shinobi used her deflection to pinwheel, not towards the
ground, but off to another wall. The moment his feet found purchase on
it, he stepped into a speed technique, disappearing in a blur of motion.
There was no time to focus on grand strategy or the nuances of offense,
as her arms worked to deflect a blow coming in from her left that came
as little more than a mirage or blur, even to her enhanced combat
attuned senses.

Konatsu's speed was frightening as he shot across the room in a single
step, spring boarding off the walls. A parallel blow was met by Hera-
sama, and as he rolled past her and tried to hit her in the small of the
back, she pivoted and brought the flat of her battle spatula around just
barely in time to block. She saw him for a moment, police baton shaped
tonfa whirling through the air, and then he jumped into another speed
step.

Swiping her free hand down her battle spatula, she whipped up another
okonomiyaki special order to go.

"Okonomiyakidan! Ichi!" she cried, left hand swiping back and forth.
"Ni! San!"

This special okonomiyaki had, as one of its new ingredients, a proximity
fuse.

"Shi! Go!"

She barely saw him try to cover himself in mid step as the first of the
bomb went off in a cloud of batter and shrapnel.

"Roku! Shichi!"

Even after she lost sight of him in the cloud of debris, she kept at it,
saturating the area. Konatsu had already proven surprisingly resilient,
not to mention difficult to hit in the first place, and she knew she had
to keep him pinned down. She was in the middle of her eighth okonomiyaki
bomb when she caught movement, and the color red, reflected in the
surface of Hera-sama.

"Whaaaat?!" She spun, and brought her weapon up to block just in time.
Konatsu was in the air, sword drawn and bearing down on her. Their
weapons met at the same time one, and then two, versions of the ninja
erupted out of the smoke.

Rokubu Ichitai    !

No doubt, he'd performed it under the cover of smoke. In fact, that
third bomb had produced much more smoke than it should have. He must've
waited for it to go off, and then timed his own smoke bomb to explode at
the same time. Then, while she'd been distracted, he'd gotten behind
her, or under some sort of cover, and executed the six bodies as one
technique.

"Prepare yourself...!" The clone to her left cried, twirling a sickle
with chain, called a kusarigama.

"...Miss Ukyou!" The one to her right finished, wielding the tonfa.

"Don't... underestimate me!!" Ukyou pushed forward with her Hera-sama
while sliding it down, until the flat of the battle spatula got within a
few inches of the first Konatsu's right shoulder. "Kuonji Big Bang
Odoroki!"

A tiny slit in Hera-sama opened up, spraying a volatile mixture onto the
face of the now heated weapon. The sword armed Konatsu didn't have time
to register much after this fact, as the mixture ignited in a
magnificent explosion of cherry red and burning orange. Taking the Big
Bang Surprise to the face sent that Konatsu flying, but Ukyou kept her
weapon heading in an arc towards the floor while the adjusted her grip.

Pole vaulting into the air, she saw the two Konatsu clones cross below
her, passing through the space she had just stood in. Her feet touched
down with a ballerina's grace, and then another Konatsu was in front of
her with a pair of three pronged sai held in the reverse grip. Ducking
her head, the first cut through a few strands of her hair, and as it
came back in the other direction, it met Hera-sama's shaft. The other
twin in the sai pair nicked her shoulder as it jabbed, but then Ukyou
brought her battle spatula up, perpendicular with her torso, locking
that Konatsu's arms together and sending him corkscrewing through the
air.

Falling back, stopping her fall only with her hand, she avoided a thrown
sickle, and then falling awkwardly to her left she saw a trio of kogai,
or ornamental hairpins, embed themselves in the ground. Flipping up with
her feet and bringing down her weapon to intercept a roundhouse kick,
she ran her hand hastily down her weapon - too fast too cook the batter
into a bomb or other special okonomiyaki. The sticky dough itself would
have to suffice as it flew into Konatsu's face, forcing him (or that
clone of him) to stumble backwards.

"Happo Bijin Shuriken!" came from behind.

"Hyappatsu Hyakuchu Shuriken!" came from her right.

Ukyou cursed, and her body reacted instantly to find the right angle to
shield herself. Konatsu wasn't able to put as much raw edged steel in
the air as Mousse in terms of mass, but with his clones, he could hit
from multiple angles. This was where all that painful training with
India Squad had paid off. They had already threatened and hurt her as
much as Konatsu was ever likely to, and she knew - she believed - that
she could block everything he threw at her. Finding shelter behind the
broad flat face of Hera-sama, Ukyou heard the rainfall of projectiles
bounce harmlessly off its nigh invulnerable surface leaving her
unscathed.

Standing and backpedaling, Ukyou prepared for the next attack as she
caught her breath and surveyed the room and the state of her opponent.
The smoke was clear now, and she could see all six Konatsu clones. One
still had batter on his face that he was trying to wipe off (good luck -
she'd made it extra sticky), another had a dislocated arm, another was
on the ground, unconscious, and another looked mostly unharmed but a bit
dusty. Near the back of the room that she had carpet bombed, one Konatsu
had used the other as a shield.

That was the 'real' one then.

That Konatsu dropped his unconscious fellow and stepped forward. "I'd
never imagined you'd get this much stronger in only a week, Miss Ukyou.
It would seem that my kunoichi ninja arts are not enough to end this
battle through anything but attrition."

"Huh!" Ukyou said in response. "You sound like I had a lot of options.
Training like I have, I had to either get stronger or give up my title
as a martial artist. This last week, I remembered... Konatsu-kun! I
remembered that my cooking and my martial arts are the core of who I am.
One cannot be separated from the other!"

"Have you been training just for that?" he asked, as the other Konatsu
clones took steps back and fanned out.

"At first, it was to prove something to Shampoo, to you, to Ranma..."
She gulped in another deep breath of air, let it out, and licked her dry
lips. "But then, at some point, I realized what I was thinking about
when I was on the ground, bleeding and hurt... and wondering why I
should get back up."

Ukyou's blue eyes hardened to the shade of ice.

"The person I have something to prove to is myself! Win or lose, come
tomorrow morning I'm going to look the mirror and I'm going to smile and
be proud of who I see!"

Konatsu's expression looked pained for a moment before being replaced by
one of determination. Setting his feet and widening his stance he
clasped his hands together. Ukyou could feel the pull of his ki,
building up in his abdomen and spreading out through his body. Her own
power rose to meet it, and push against the opposing emotional and
spiritual energy.

"Then... Miss Ukyou!" Konatsu suddenly yelled. "For the sake of your
pride, so that you can look at yourself in the mirror and smile, I will
show you something no one has yet seen and lived to speak of! My
kunoichi ninja arts do not seem up to this task, so now... now I shall
unlock the forbidden male ninjutsu passed onto me by my father, and his
father before him. The arts I was forced to learn in secret and hide
from my step sisters. Watch, Miss Ukyou, and see why I have been called
a once in a hundred years ninja genius!"

"Higouhou Ninpo!" (Unlawful Ninja Arts!)

Curling their fingers, Konatsu and two of his doubles slammed their
palms together.

"Akazuno Ninpou: Sanmi Ichitai!" (Forbidden Ninja Art: Three People as
One!)

Without warning, the two unconscious Konatsus and the one with the
dislocated arm disappeared in little puffs of smoke, revealing rough
straw kawarimis - body replacements. The three remaining ninjas stood
perfectly still for a second, and that was when Ukyou felt it... the ki
that had been radiating from the real Konatsu and his duplicates
abruptly doubled.

"What the...?" Ukyou staggered, the weight of his spiritual pressure
overwhelming her senses. "What the hell?!"

The left and right Konatsus reached behind themselves, and both of their
hands came back cradling no less than eight shuriken each between their
fingers. The center Konatsu, meanwhile, drew his wakazashi short sword.
With glowing eyes, he started to walk forward.

"Kansatsuken!" he announced, and his next step was an Akichi that
momentarily looked like he'd completely vanished. If her eyes had
wandered the slightest bit, he would have as good as disappeared - his
speed covered the distance between them faster than she'd ever imagined,
and he was leading with his blade, the tip and length inky black rather
than reflective steel.

Still, he seemed to be off target. Her natural impulse was to dodge a
strike like that, but India Squad's training and some distant sense of
danger warned her not to. Instead, she brought the flat of her battle
spatula up to the side of her right arm, using it like a de facto
buckler or shield, using the shaft and the end to guard her entire right
arm and torso.

The two passed in a spray of sparks, Konatsu's "Flying Killer Sword"
biting much more deeply against her battle spatula than she had
expected. It was as if the tip of the sword was somewhere else entirely
rather than at the end of the blade. Had she tried to dodge, rather than
use her spatula for defense, she'd have been hit.

No doubt about it.

He was behind her now, and she was all but surrounded. Moving quickly
into a side step, she presented her armored side again as the first
Konatsu, the real one, expertly reversed the grip on his short sword and
slashed at her. Ukyou felt the cut, this time, opening up on the side of
her neck. She'd seen the blade hit her spatula, she was sure of it. How
did she get cut?!

Still side stepping to keep her back to one of the walls, Ukyou gritted
her teeth and swung Hera-sama in a short fast arc, forcing Konatsu to
block with his sword. She didn't get into a press of blades with him,
instead keeping her battle spatula moving and building up speed and
momentum. Konatsu matched her every move, blocking or avoiding blows,
and every time his wakazashi slashed, it bit into flesh, though her
exotic alloy body armor prevented any potentially crippling blows to her
upper torso.

Frustrated, and growing a little anxious, she swiped wide with the flat
of her weapon, forcing him to take a little step back. Searching his
face, she saw cold blank eyes, devoid of emotion, a deep deathly white.
She knew it was his spiritual pressure overcoming her own, making her
afraid, and making her see things. She couldn't panic. She had to keep
her cool.

She was bleeding, and she knew it.

Not only that, but her ki was waning. A few of the hits he'd gotten over
the last exchange had obviously been deeper than expected. Her vision
started to blur, but she shook her head and forced her eyes to
concentrate on her opponent.

"That would be the poison coursing through your veins..." Konatsu said,
his voice sounding far closer than where he stood. It sounded almost
like he was whispering directly into her ear.

"My wakazashi is named Habu, after the nocturnal pit vipers of the
Ryukyu Islands. Like the snake, it is not usually aggressive... however,
if sufficiently provoked, their bite is excruciatingly painful. Miss
Ukyou, my Habu has bitten you several times. Soon, you will no longer be
able to fight me."

"I'm afraid," she heard as her vision faded. "This fight is over."

-----

Wind bites my face.

The sea lunges and crushes all in its path.

There is nothing in the sky.

Weariness pulls me down, slows me down; my arms grow limp.

Blue and black.

I see the dark sky and then nothing else.

Pain.

A ray of light, sometime later - the rising sun.

There is a shadow too, large, with a familiar smell that makes me feel
safe.

Papa.

-----

Ukyou woke up in a bed, wrapped snugly under two layers of sheets.
Reaching up, she could feel bandages around her head, and the memories
of the night before came back like a slideshow: the storm interrupting
her training, her mad impulse to keep going despite it, the crash of the
waves and the surf, growing weaker but refusing to give up, and then
that fall onto one of the concrete wave breakers, hitting her head, the
rising sun set against a comfortingly large silhouette.

Still, though she knew she should be badly hurt, she felt...

Almost invigorated.

Inhaling, she smelt her father enter before he actually did, carrying a
tray with a breakfast okonomiyaki with minced eggs and shredded bacon.
It had always been her childhood favorite, and seeing him set it down on
the table next to her, in a hotel room far from their home in Osaka,
brought unexpected tears to her eyes. By the tired look in his eyes, she
knew - just knew - that he had stood by all last night, watching her
fight the sea, not stepping in until she had slipped and fallen. She
squeezed her eyes shut, and ducked her head low to bury her face in the
pillow.

Crying over something stupid like that!

She wasn't a weak little girl anymore! She'd renounced her femininity
and devoted herself to becoming a serious martial artist so that she
could finally avenge the insult to her family honor. There was no room
in that notion for sentimental tears. A gentle hand rested on her
forehead, and Ukyou opened her eyes to look up at her father. He had
always seemed like a giant of a man to her, bigger even than Ranma's
father Genma, and much more imposing and stern.

"Rest up, Ukyou-chan. Rest up," was all he said, in that moment when any
other parent would likely have scolded her for her foolishness. Her
father had always been more talkative with customers than family.

"Papa..." she replied lamely, and a small smile graced her face.
"Thanks."

"I just hope you found what you were looking for, honey," he said with a
broad warm smile partly hidden by his thick black beard. "Because
another night like that will give Papa a lot of nasty gray hairs."

She nodded back to reassure him, and as he started for the door, she
called out to him. For some reason, her recent new feeling of renewal
had also forced a more unpleasant question to the front of her mind. It
was, after all, the reason she had risked life and limb to train against
a raging sea.

"Papa, why... why did you try to marry me off to the Saotomes?"

Her father's shoulders slumped slightly, and he turned away so she saw
him in profile. He seemed to struggle with an answer, but when he faced
her a few seconds later; she knew to brace herself for what was to come.
She had often hypothesized about his motives, but still being a young
girl, she knew she was probably off base. She was thirteen now, though.
She was ready for the truth.

"Ukyou-chan," he said with a deep rumble. "I love you with all my heart,
honey. Don't think I wanted you to leave my side, but... but I thought a
stricter, stronger, martial arts upbringing would be what was best for
you. Genma is a stronger man than he looks; stronger than me in quite a
few ways. For a Kuonji, our cooking and our martial arts are one and the
same."

"I don't need them to become strong, Papa!" she raised her voice only a
little, not wanting to strain herself. "We don't need them to become
strong. I'll train, and I'll train, and I'll beat Ranma! I'll prove we
don't need them!"

"Revenge," her father said the word slowly, and sighed. "Ukyou-chan, do
you know why we of the Kuonji Clan became both chefs and martial
artists?"

"To defend ourselves," Ukyou answered, knowing the story about how her
ancestors had grown weary of being assaulted and robbed on their
journeys, and how they had trained to become both master chefs and
fighters.

"And to defend our honor!" she added.

"There is that," he admitted. "But you are forgetting something very
important... something without which the Art of making okonomiyaki has
no meaning."

"Something without which the Art has no meaning?" she repeated, and
mulled over that, searching her memory for an answer. She normally had a
good memory, but this time nothing was forthcoming.

"You think about that, honey," her father said after a few silent
moments. "You'll know the answer some day, and when you do, you'll
understand it instead of just recite it. Rest up, now. Tomorrow, I'll
put those skills of yours to test on the grill."

"Right!" she replied, watching him leave and slowly close the door
behind him.

-----

Ukyou opened her eyes.

-----

She watched as a black suited man ushered the woman and her baby into
the van. The shock of the ordeal was still clearly etched on her
features, but so was the obvious relief and gratitude she felt towards
the men and women who had saved her and her child. There had been
another survivor, too, a man - the woman's husband. They would be
checked over more carefully, and then their memories of the night's
horrific events would be erased.

"We saved them, Ran-chan," she had said, watching the van drive off.

Next to her, Ranma, still wearing his armor and faceplate, nodded.
"Yeah. We did..." she could see his face, but she knew he was smiling,
really smiling. "Come on. Let's get moving."

-----

"...you are forgetting something very important... something without
which the Art of making okonomiyaki has no meaning."

And she realized what that was.

Other People.

The customers who frequented her restaurant, who smiled and laughed and
ordered 'their usual' or 'their regular.' The strangers who came in,
looking around a little quizzically, but who smiled when she greeted
them with a friendly word of welcome. The guys and girls at school, and
at Furinkan High, who crowded around whenever she started to cook for
Ranma or herself. Their faces flashed by, in ones, twos, and groups.

And Ukyou opened her eyes.

-----

"I'm afraid," Konatsu said, slowly, holding his wakazashi at shoulder
level. "This fight is over."

And then he tasted it: something spicy and strong that send a shock down
his spine. He narrowed his eyes. Ukyou had been slumping over, on the
verge of collapsing, but then she had started to straighten up. Her eyes
were open and focused on him. Her hand clenched tightly on the shaft of
her battle spatula, and her ki - which had been fading into near
nonexistence - was again pouring out of her body.

Behind a transparent wall, Ranma felt it, too, and saw it: the lines
crisscrossing around Ukyou's body, moving through her hands like a
spider web of energy. He whistled appreciatively. Next to him, Shampoo's
eyes were wide and shocked. Around Ukyou, she could feel the thickness
of the air changing, brushing over her skin like wind, despite the
impossibility of such a sensation through the solid exotic alloy wall
that separated them.

"She..." the Chinese girl began to say. "How could she...?"

Back inside the room, Ukyou lifted her battle spatula and held it in a
cross guard in front of her.

"This fight isn't over just yet...!" She spun her weapon once, and the
circular bottom pommel detached. Building up its momentum with a twist
of her hips, she launched the circular projectile at the still stunned
Konatsu. Without thinking, he blocked it with his sword, but instead of
deflecting, it rolled off and wrapped around the blade. It was then that
a thin metal wire became easily visible in the air, connecting the tied
up body of his wakazashi to the end of her heavier battle spatula.

"That sword... is really troublesome!" She pulled back, hard, and
Konatsu had to dig his feet into the floor to keep from either being
pulled off his feet or having his sword wrenched from his hands.

Setting herself in place, Ukyou raised her left hand, and placed it
directly on the flat face of Hera-sama. In her mind, she could see it:
the ki. Her ki. Not just the light of it, but the substance and the
form. In her mind, to her senses, it was like the ingredients in a
recipe. All it took was a little of this, some of that, all in the right
proportions with a little heat from her grill...

Her hand started to glow.

"Miss Ukyou... you...!" Konatsu tried to wrest his sword free, but the
wire didn't give. Reaching behind his back with his left hand, he
retrieved a quartet of shuriken, and his hand snapped out, releasing the
bladed projectiles.

"Shuriken Kakezan!" he cried, and the four projectiles became sixteen.
He'd expected her to move, to hide and interrupt whatever she was trying
to do with her ki, but instead she held her battle spatula up, just high
enough to cover her face and upper body. She barely flinched when six of
the sixteen shuriken hit her. Some bounced harmlessly off her armor, but
one imbedded in the unarmored body glove that covered the space between
her foot and her shin. Another cut into her flesh, just to the left of
her right kneecap.

Shuriken Kakezan, or Shuriken Multiplication was not to be confused with
a kunoichi technique like Hyappatsu Hyakuchu Shuriken (100 thrown 100
middle shuriken) that relied on an illusion to create extra projectiles.
With Shuriken Multiplication, the extra projectiles were quite real.

"Alright... alright! I see!" Konatsu held up two fingers, and focused
his energy into them and into his two clones. "Let us put an end to
this, Miss Ukyou!"

The other two Konatsu's took a step forward, brandishing four shuriken
in each hand. Meanwhile, the glow beneath Ukyou's hand began to take
form and shape, developing into a twirling discus of vibrant gold. As
her ki built up to a whirling crescendo the ribbon in her hair came
undone, flapping away and hitting the wall behind her.

"This is your last chance, Konatsu-kun," Ukyou raised her voice to make
sure he could hear her. "Your last chance to give up!"

"Don't think you can avoid or block this one, Miss Ukyou!" Konatsu, for
the first time, let out a savage snarl. "When I unleash six hundred and
forty shuriken, there will be no where to escape, and if you hide behind
your battle spatula, enough will still ricochet off the walls and still
hit you from the sides and behind!"

And with that, Ukyou began to move her hand down the length of Hera-
sama. Seeing the motion and sensing the release of energy, Konatsu
acted. Pointing with his ki charged fingers; his two clones shot their
hands out wide. A steel storm of sixteen shuriken filled the air.

"Goudoujutsu: Shuriken Kakezan Kamaitachi!!"

(Combination Technique: Shuriken Multiplication Whirlwind!!)

And then multiplied into sixty four, and then again, until it seemed
like a tidal wave of spinning steel filled half the room, bearing down
on the other half. Ukyou's pupils grew small as she saw the oncoming
attack, but she pressed onward, trusting in the inner power she had
found. Her fingers reached the edge of Hera-sama's heated surface, and
then whatever it was, was free. Bright all consuming light filled the
world in front of her, and she knew then what to call it.

"Kenran Hinode!!"

(Brilliant Sunrise!!)

And in the middle of the room, a wave of steel met a column of light.

-----

"That's the signal. We're go! Go! Go!"

The four police officers stormed the room. It was a small hotel suite,
little more than an L shaped bedroom and a tiny bathroom. There was no
where to hide. Two of the officers, covering each other, advanced to the
area around the bed itself, finding nothing: not a suitcase, not a hand
bag, and certainly not an occupant. From behind them, the officers who
had opened the bathroom door cursed.

"Nothing!"

"There's no one here!"

One of the other two quickly pulled aside the drapes covering the wall
of the room that overlooked the city. It would have been impossible to
hide effectively behind the flimsy things, but it did confirm where the
occupant had likely gone. Staring out the open window on the eighteenth
floor of the hotel, the officer who led the intrusion cursed. It was a
sheer drop.

"This is Blue One," he said, clutching the radio strapped to his upper
left chest. "Target is not present. The window is open, but I don't see
a body."

"She's headed for the roof," a voice replied over the radio.

"The roof?" the officer looked up; there was no way to find a handhold.
Only a human fly could scale the flat surface of the building. "Is that
even possible?"

Mousse stood on the top of the building's flagpole, white and black
robes billowing in the wind. He watched as a khaki colored form stood on
the edge of the roof, a black sash weaving leisurely by her side.
Mousse, his hand still on the radio clipped to his robe, depressed the
speak button with his middle finger.

"Yeah. It is. Secure the room and fall back. I'll handle things up
here," he said, and let his hand release the radio and return to his
voluminous sleeves. Jumping down off the four meter high flag pole, he
handed softly next to a growling air conditioning unit. The woman
lowered her arms, and he could see she was holding folded up tessen, or
metal fans.

"Hibiki Mitsuko?" Mousse spoke up, watching her closely. Ryouga had
warned them that his parents were both martial artists. That she would
evade the police they'd gotten to cooperate with this mission didn't
surprise anyone. Mousse couldn't quite see her face very clearly, but
her stance itself was quite confident. Certainly, she didn't seem to
radiate any fear.

"Weighted iron fans and the Iron Cloth Technique," Ryouga had said. "Her
ki reserves are not impressive, but she is quite strong and fast. She's
not in our league, but don't underestimate her."

"Can I help you?" the woman asked, sounding remarkably polite given the
circumstances.

"Hibiki-san. My name is Watanabe Tobi." Mousse tried to sound
authoritative but not too threatening. "Please kindly cooperate. You're
in danger, and we need to make sure of a few things..."

The woman laughed at that. "I'm in danger? That's a good one! Don't
think I don't know what this is about! Well, I have no intention of
going to jail because I defended myself from a bunch of lowlife punks!"

"Umm..." Mousse quirked an eyebrow. "What?"

"Trying to take advantage of a poor helpless beautiful young woman lost
in the city...!" Mrs. Hibiki suddenly took on a teary eyed look. "Did I
go too far when I broke their leader's arm? Perhaps. Did I go too far
when I threw one of them through a wall? Maybe. Did I go too far when I
made another one eat his cell phone? Ok, yes, I guess I did. But it was
self defense! I have a right to defend myself!"

A sweat drop glided down Mousse's forehead. "I guess. But, look... Wait!
That's not what this is about!" He shook his head. "Hibiki-san, I'm a
friend of your son's. I'm here to help."

"And those cops downstairs?" Mitsuko asked, suddenly turning serious
again. "The ones you were giving orders to just now? Are they friends of
my son, too?"

"Yes! I mean... no, no, I guess not. But they ARE helping us out. Here,
I'll show you!" Mousse reached into his robe, and picked out his
National Police Agency Security Bureau badge. With a flick of his wrist,
he tossed it at the woman, who effortlessly caught it in midair. Mrs.
Hibiki examined it for a few seconds, and scoffed dismissively.

"It's a Fake!" She declared, throwing it back at him.

Mousse caught it without even thinking - his mind was racing, trying to
fathom just how this woman had realized the badge wasn't real. Hell, for
all intents and purposes, it was real. It was just his false identity
that was a fake. How did she know?

"How did I know it was a fake?" Mitsuko asked wonderingly. She then
pointed dramatically at Mousse. "When I said it was fake you looked
shocked and surprised. That's all the proof I need!"

'She got me!' Mousse drew back guiltily and put the badge away.

"Hibiki-san, you're making this very difficult..." he grumbled. Tucking
his hands into his sleeves, he sighed. "All right, if you refuse to
cooperate, then we'll do this the hard way."

Without further warning, he slid into a low crouch and spread his arms.
A volley of three weighted lengths of chain shot out towards his target.
Mrs. Hibiki saw it coming, however, and flipped open her iron fans. With
a graceful arc, the fan with the white colored fabric knocked aside the
leading metal weight, while the black fan intercepted and captured the
second. Easily, using only her wrist, she brought the black fan down to
also snare the third length of chain. The fan then snapped tight, and
Mrs. Hibiki pulled back using her whole body.

A second later, Mousse crashed face first into an exposed ventilation
duct.     Pulling himself free, the Chinese martial artist shook his head
to get rid of the cobwebs and debris he'd just taken a dive into.

"Ok..." he blew a strand of hair out of his face. "You're definitely the
lost boy's mother alright."

-----

Kuonji Kazou wiped the blood from his broken nose and tried to get back
up.

Behind him, broken bottles leaked alcohol that soaked his clothes and
burned his wounds. Purpling bruises covered his left cheek, his arms,
and his torso underneath his clothes. Shards of glass and ceramic cut
into his lower back and shoulders. Needless to say, the Bar was in no
condition to host a respectable business party.

His opponent, one Hibiki Tetsuya, stood unharmed in the center of the
restaurant, one hand in his coat pocket, the other hanging leisurely by
his side. A few flecks of smoky residue and grime marred his face, but
otherwise he looked as fine as when he'd entered and ordered his lunch.
Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, Kazuo quickly reached
out...

And caught the bottle of cognac before it could shatter on the floor.

Letting out a huff of mixed relief and self-depreciation, he checked the
label on the bottle. What a shame it would have been for some of the
truly good stuff to be wasted without ever being tasted. Slowly getting
up, ignoring the pain that cried out from every inch of his body, he
popped open the top of the cognac and took a draft from it, letting the
80 proof liquid burn down his throat.

Finally on his feet again, he smirked at the man who had so trounced
him, and tossed the bottle over in a lazy arc. Tetsuya caught it with
one hand, took one look at the label, and laughed. Taking a quick drink
of his own from the vintage cognac, he nodded appreciatively. Then,
putting the cap back on, Tetsuya leisurely tossed it back.

Kazuo caught it, and carefully put the bottle back on its shelf.

"Hibikiken, was it?" the okonomiyaki chef asked, again facing his foe.
"The Echoing Fist? Was that why those Masters you mentioned picked you?"

Tetsuya nodded. "My son's memories of me... of what I could do...
interested them."

"And me?" Kazuo asked.

"No. They aren't interested yet." The other man made a sad sigh. "Which
is too bad. I don't prefer violence and I don't really like to fight...
but if I'm not told otherwise, I'm going to have to kill you."

"That's ok, Tetsuya, wasn't it?" Mr. Kuonji reached down and picked up
the family's precious Suzu-hime. The battle spatula had been passed down
through three generations, and one day, he'd hoped to present to his
daughter on the day she married. Too late, he wished he'd called her
more often, or that she had called him. He missed the sound of her
voice, and how she used to laugh and pull at his beard. Oh, but she
hadn't been that young in a long time, had she?

"Tetsuya...-san..." Kazuo's grip tightened on Suzu-hime, and he found
strength in it. It had not proven able to stand up to the Echoing Fist,
but it was intact. Maybe, someday, Ukyou would still take possession of
it.

"I am glad I could share a drink with you, Tetsuya-san, but if at all
possible, I'd like to keep running my restaurant. I'd hate to upset my
regulars, you see." Kazuo chuckled. "And I can't say I'd like to live
like you are, made a slave because of my own skills."

"I'd suppose not," the tall man replied, eyes half lidded. Then, sensing
the built up of ki, he brought his left hand out of his coat pocket.

"Hmmm? What's this?" Tetsuya drawled, eyes tracing the signature lines
of ki that grew out from Kazuo's body and insinuated into the walls,
into the grill, into the bags of ingredients in the back room, into
everything nearby. The beaten man's body began to shake, and in tune, so
did the grill plate, the many and assorted utensils, the wok hanging
from its hook, even the menus. In seconds, the man's ki - his mental and
spiritual presence - had leaked into the entire room; much like another
fighter would channel their energy into a sword or staff.

"This... is the ultimate and final technique of a Master of the Kuonji
Style," Kazuo announced. "Beyond making our food, our grill, and our
spatulas into weapons, when one becomes a Master of our Art, the
kitchen, the tables, the restaurant itself... become both spear and
shield!!"

Tetsuya smiled, eyes darting back and forth. "Oh?"

"Now!" Kazuo raised his hands. "Arise! Kessen no Ougi: Kuonji Kijiryu!!"

(Decisive Battle Secret Technique: Kuonji Batter Dragon!!)

Just a few blocks away, five police cars roared down the road, sirens
blaring. The streets of Osaka were not particularly wide, and they had
to slow down dramatically as they got close to the area where, they had
been told, a dangerous suspect was in the middle of a criminal
disturbance of the peace. The exact nature of the disturbance and the
criminal himself were not well known, just that their superiors were
very insistent on cooperation with the local NPA Special Agents in the
field.

The first of the cars had just arrived on the scene when a popular local
restaurant exploded from the inside, sending out a shockwave of force
that knocked people standing on the other side of the street onto their
asses and tore signs all along the road off their supports. The two
story restaurant's lower floor had just seemed to settle, when the top
floor erupted like a volcano, sending debris flying in every direction.
Wooden support beams and furniture were launched into the sky, and at
the heart of it a brown and black serpentine form rose higher and
higher, releasing a roar like an earthquake's and a mouth engulfed by
flame.

Then, the serpentine form turned in midair, and headed back to earth,
flaking bits of itself trailing away like a pair of torn faux wings.
When it hit the ground, it was with the force of a falling star. What
was left of the restaurant was instantly flattened. Windows shattered
for a hundred feet, and bits and pieces of sticky dough and broken wood
rained down like a brown monsoon.

And in the middle of what had once been Kuonji's restaurant, a lone
figure stood arms upright. And holding something: an entire grill
assemblage, still burning, and weighing as much as a small car. Tossing
aside the burning wreckage with apparent ease, the figure turned, as if
to look around.

"Almost had me..." Tetsuya whispered, and looked up, sensing the other
man's approach. "Kazuo..."

"I'm not done yet!!" Kazuo yelled, descending from above with his battle
spatula strapped to his back. He landed on a patch of brown batter and
slammed his hands down into it.

"Yuusen no Ougi: Kuonji Haimetsuryu!!"

(Desperate Battle Secret Technique: Kuonji Scattered Dragon's Defeat!!)

Lifting his hands, and slamming them down a second time, hundreds of
globs of batter, much of it with shards of metal and wood stuck inside,
jumped into the air. Tetsuya barely had time to register this new
attack, as the sticky spheres surrounded him, coming in from every
possible angle: from the ground, from the ruined skeleton of the
building, from what was left of the walls, from everywhere! He tucked
his arms over his face a heartbeat before the first bits of batter hit
him, and in moments he was completely obscured by an ever thickening
shell of the stuff.

"Tetsuya-san, I hope you enjoyed your last drink," Kazuo said, softly,
standing up. His body felt about to give out, but at least he was alive.
"Now, remain trapped like an insect in amber, entombed for a thousand
years."

Wiping blood from his face, and taking in the ruined status of his
beloved restaurant, Kazuo wished he'd had that cognac handy. It would be
a while before he could rebuild, but in the meantime there was always
the portable yatai grill. He turned and began to ponder how he would
explain things to the police. Behind him, the jagged pillar of batter
and building materials hardened to the consistency of concrete.

The police streamed out of their vehicles and began to tread carefully
around the debris. Kazuo was halfway to them, already holding his hands
up to try and convince them that he was harmless and unarmed, when he
paused. Slowly, he turned and looked behind him, where the sound of
something cracking could be heard more and more loudly.

"That... isn't possible..." he began to say, when the massive pillar
that was to be Hibiki Tetsuya's tomb cracked clean in half. He could see
things moving inside, in the darkness, and then the two halves fell
apart completely. Tetsuya himself landed on the ground with a thud, long
strips of his navy blue coat torn away and waving in the breeze.

Except... there was no breeze.

"Not enough, Kuonji Kazuo!" Tetsuya yelled, the torn strips of his coat
rising higher and thrashing more and more violently in the air. Kazuo
gaped, still hardly believing that anyone could have survived the
Haimetsuryu, and whipped out Suzu-hime just as something fast -
lightning fast - streaked through the air. Holding it in front of him
like a shield he heard a grinding sound come from the other side of the
weapon, and his feet dug twin furrows in the ground as the force of some
impact pushed him back.

His pupils grew small as whatever it was on the other side of his battle
spatula finally pierced the metal weapon. Something thin and vaguely
whip like shot through the gap it had cut in Suzu-hime and proceeded
onward just to the right of his face, cutting a line horizontally across
his cheek and clipping his earlobe. And then, as fast as it had struck,
it retracted and tore his ancestral weapon out of his hands.

So fast!

His clothes still writhing like a nest of vipers, Tetsuya stood like a
statue. That was what it had been, Kazuo realized: it had been a strip
of the other man's coat that had lashed out and pierced Suzu-hime,
cutting through it like a drill bit through copper plate. And now, he
was helpless. Another of the cloth tendrils drew back, coiled like a
snake, and struck.

Only to be stopped mere feet from its target.

A young man stood in front of him, holding something between his hands
that had blocked the strike. He looked like JSDF, wearing some sort of
white and gray combat vest and pants with a conspicuous black belt. An
off color gold and black bandanna and armband stood out in stark
contrast. A matte black rifle of some sort was strapped in place behind
his back. The newcomer's feet bit deeply into the debris and rubble
strewn ground, holding his position between Tetsuya and his target.

A second later, another man in similar combat fatigues but wearing a
long white do-rag over his hair alighted on a broken wooden support
beam, his arms crossed. There was a confident, menacing aura to that
one, and the Kazuo saw yet another young solider, this time wearing a
blue hakama over his pants and what looked almost like a kendo outfit.
As if to accentuate that image, this soldier wielded a sword in his
right hand. All three men exuded the powerful mental and spiritual force
that marked them as martial artists and fighters.

"What...?" Kazuo took a few steps back, watching Tetsuya closely for
another attack. "Who are...?"

"Stay back, Mr. Kuonji, or we will not be able to guarantee your
safety," the one in front of him said. Then, that soldier's attention
focused entirely on the threatening persona that still stood in the
middle of what used to be a prosperous Osaka restaurant.

"Ryouga...kun..." Tetsuya's eyes flashed a vibrant green and he bore his
teeth, the trademark Hibiki canines. "When were you ever in a position
to guarantee another's safety? Hmm? My Son?"

The young man ignored the question.

"Hibiki Tetsuya," he said, his voice strained. "You know who sent me
here. You know what I represent! My forces have you surrounded!
Surrender now and you will be given the best possible treatment!"

"Ryouga-kun," the older man chided in the unmistakable tone of a father
to his son. "You know I can't possibly comply with that demand. You're a
grown man, now. Do... what you feel is appropriate."

And then, with a savage cry of anger and despair, it began.



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             `---- http://ffml.anifics.com/faq.txt -----'