Waters Under Earth

A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic by Alan Harnum 
-harnums@thekeep.org
-harnums@hotmail.com (old/backup)

All Ranma characters are the property of Rumiko Takahashi, first
published by Shogakukan in Japan and brought over to North
America by Viz Communications.

Waters Under Earth at Transpacific Fanfiction:  
http://www.humbug.org.au/~wendigo/transp.html

Chapter 27 : Trials

I have heard the key
Turn in the door once and turn once only
We think of the key, each in his prison
Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison
-T.S. Eliot

     The water was close to boiling, deliciously hot as Akane
slipped into it with a deep sigh of pleasure.  "Heaven," she
murmured softly, already feeling the grime and dust of the long
journey begin to fall away from her, as her tense and aching
muscles instantly loosened.

     Rouge tested the heat of the water in the huge tub with a
tentative finger, and then carefully got into the water across
from Akane, dropping her washcloth on the wide stone lip of the
bath as she submerged herself almost completely.  A thin sigh of 
pleasure escaped her lips as the water rolled over her body.

     Akane looked back to where Shampoo was slipping off the last
of her clothing.  "Shampoo, this is wonderful."

     The other girl nodded silently and smiled, then joined the
other two in the tub, almost seeming to purr as she entered the
water.  "Is nice, yes?"

     "Yes," Rouge said quietly, stretching out one slender arm
and picking up a bar of soap.  "Beautiful."

     Akane closed her eyes and sank down into the water of the
crowded tub, trying not to bump legs with Shampoo or Rouge as 
she rested her head back on the edge.  Shampoo's house in the 
village had been a shock; rich and luxurious, it was at least as 
big as the Tendo home, beautifully decorated with ancient 
antiques and carefully-carved wooden furniture.  There was 
running water, and electricity.  The village of the Joketsuzoku 
was turning out, in some ways, to be very different from what she 
had expected.

     Now, with dinner resting contentedly in her stomach and the
heat of the water all around her, Akane felt as close to peace as
she had come in a long time.  On the edge of her thoughts, she
knew it would not last; as soon as they had bathed, and the men
had taken their turn in the tub, they had to go out with Shampoo 
to face the entire village and the judgement of the Council, but 
for now, there was peace.

     Rouge said something in English.  Akane caught only a few
fragments, and she opened her eyes and looked up.  "What did you
say?"

     Rouge was staring out the window in the bathroom, high up on
the wall above the tub.  "The sun's rim dips, the stars rush out,
at one stride comes the dark.  I remember reading it in a poem 
once when I lived in Shanghai..."

     She trailed off, her eyes sad and shadowed, and went back to
washing herself.  Chin balanced on her palm and elbow balanced on 
the lip of the tub, Shampoo glanced over to the other two girls 
and smiled slightly.  "We go to Council soon.  Akane, Council may
ask for one of you to confirm my story.  If I say you, you do
that for me?"

     Akane blinked, surprised.  "Sure," she said after a moment,
absently accepting the bar of soap from Rouge and beginning to
lather her arms.  

     Shampoo nodded.  "Thank you."
     
     She looked up at the window, at the growing darkness outside
as the sun set.  "Going to be long night."

**********

     Ukyou woke to pain and darkness.  Blinking her eyes, she 
tried to sit up in the large, soft bed she was lying in, and her
body protested immensely, from the tips of her toes to the crown
of her head.  

     There was a moment of waking amnesia, and then the fight
with Hako came rushing back to her, along with several twinges
throughout her legs and arms and ribs, and a slight, throbbing
headache at the back of her skull.

     Managing finally to prop herself up on the pillows, she
found her eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough that she could
make out the dim details of the room, the large bed, the dressing
table in one corner, the shadowy figure sitting the chair next to
the bed.

     She started slightly, and then saw it was Konatsu, and a
feeling of sad, strange longing broke over her.  His head was
bowed, chin resting on his chest, his long ponytail hanging down
over one shoulder as he dozed.  

     "Konatsu," she whispered softly, surprised at the croaking
sound of her own voice.  She tremblingly raised a hand and 
brushed it against his cheek, ignoring the aching pain it sent up
her arm and shoulder.

     Konatsu snapped awake so suddenly it was surprising.  His
head shot up, his eyes opened wide and fearful, and his hand 
grabbed her wrist in a tight grip.  Ukyou yelped involuntarily,
and he immediately dropped her arm to let it fall upon the bed
and looked stricken.

     "Ukyou," he whispered joyfully.  "You're finally awake."
     
     He leaned over and embraced her suddenly.  Ukyou forced her
uncooperative body to put an arm around his shoulders.  "Don't
hug me too hard, okay?  I'm still sore."

     Konatsu pulled away after a few moments.  In the darkness,
she could still see the shimmering of his eyes.  "How do you
feel?"

     "Like I got the crap beaten out of me," Ukyou said sourly.
Her mouth tasted awful, and she desperately wanted a drink of
water.  "Where am I?"

     "This is my room," Konatsu answered softly.  "You've been
asleep for nearly two days."
     
     He paused for a moment, and a thin edge of anger entered
into his melodious voice.  "Hako hurt you very badly before I
made her stop."

     "Made her stop?"
     
     Konatsu's fingers traced his neck with a finger, along the
line of a thin scratch.  "I threatened to cut my throat open if 
she didn't."

     For a moment, Ukyou could not speak.  "Konatsu..."
     
     In the darkness, his eyes seemed to burn with their own 
inner fire.  "I will not let her hurt you, Ukyou.  She needs me.  
I don't know why, and I don't care why, but she needs me.  I am 
not going to let her hurt anyone I love ever again."

     Ukyou slipped her legs painfully out from under the loose
white sheets and placed her feet on the floor, then reached out
and gathered him to her in silence, realizing as she did that she
wore only a thin red nightgown, but not caring.  His head fell
against her shoulder with a soft sigh as he wrapped his arms
around her, and she stroked his back through the scarlet cloth of
his kunoichi outfit.

     "Why did you come after me?" he whispered, tears in his
voice.  "Why?"

     His body trembled against hers, and her tremble matched his.
"Because you're my friend, Konatsu.  I care what happens to you."

     And then he said nothing, and only wept, and Ukyou held him
there, in the darkness.
     
**********

     Nabiki stared at the digital clock on her dresser from where
she lay on her neatly-made bed, a textbook open before her on her
pillow that had not seen a turned page for a good half hour.

     Outside her window, night was falling, seeming to trail
through the branches of the tall willow tree that lay beyond and
touch against the glass as if it sought entrance.  

     She rolled over onto her back and stared up at the ceiling,
blinking her eyes at the glare of the lightbulb and seeing spots
of bright white upon the darkness of her vision as she did.

     Sighing with annoyance, she got up off the bed and paced the
room, the carpet scuffing under her bare feet.  Finally, shaking
her head resignedly, she grabbed a long-sleeved sweatshirt from
her drawer and pulled it on over her tank-top before heading out
into the hallway.

     She took the stairs quickly, and was in the process of
pulling on her shoes at the door when her father poked his head
around the corner.  "Nabiki, are you going out?"

     "Yup," she answered, crouching and tying up the laces of her
shoes.  "I'll be back in an hour or so."

     Her father hesitated, and then stepped around the corner.
"Where are you going?"

     She regarded him flatly.  "Out."
     
     "Oh," Soun said, downcast.  "Well... have a nice time,
okay?"

     Nabiki nodded dismissively, and stood up to leave.  Her 
father stood in the open door, watching her as she paced down the 
front walk to the street, and she had to resist the temptation to 
turn back and snap at him.

     A wind picked up as she stepped under the gate, sending a
crumpled piece of paper tumbling before her feet.  She absently
kicked it away, and it skittered off into the gutter.  She
reached up and tugged at the collar of her loose sweatshirt, as
the wind sought purchase and tried to claw its way through to the
flesh beneath.

     She walked a winding route throughout the narrow streets,
passing canal and house and store under icy glow of the 
streetlights.  Underneath the wide awning of a bookstore, she
paused and watched as a huge white moth battered itself against
the plastic covering of one the streetlights, a futile seeking of
unattainable light.  She entered the restaurant district, and
wound her way through the passers-by, laughing and walking arm in
arm, warm with the glow of companionship.  The lights of passing
cars bathed the faces of the walkers in their pale colours.

     In front of the tall windows of an expensive Italian
restaurant, she opened the door of the long black car and slid
into the back seat.

     "Good evening, Nabiki," Yoshiyuki said, glancing back at her
from the front as she settled into the seat.  "And how are you?"

     "Fine," she answered shortly.  "I've got what you want."
     
     He nodded, and his broad face split into a grin she found
distinctly unpleasant.  Nabiki leaned forward slightly and tossed
the manila envelope onto the passenger seat.  

     Yoshiyuki picked it up and opened it, paging through the
papers inside.  "This is it?"

     "There's not much I can tell you about people several
thousand miles away," Nabiki protested.  "That's all I was able
to put together before they left.  I'm hoping Akane can find a
phone and call me though, and then I can..."

     "You grow less and less useful to my organization every 
passing day," the yakuza muttered with a trace of annoyance.  But
he reached back and handed her a bulging white envelope, plain
and unlabelled.

     Nabiki clutched it tightly in her hand as she stared out the
smoked glass windows of the car at the people passing by.  None
of them could see inside, she realized.

     "Nabiki?"
     
     She raised her head from staring at the envelope.  "Yes?"
     
     "The night's still young," he said, and tried to smile
charmingly.  It came out more predatory than anything else.

     Nabiki stared back at him.  "And it's not getting any 
younger.  Goodnight."

     She reached out and pulled the door open, and stepped
quickly out of the car, nearly colliding with a well-dressed old
man as she did.  The envelope she held seemed to threaten to slip
through her sweaty fingers at any time.  And yet she shivered,
though the night was warm enough.

     As soon as she'd closed the door behind her, the black car
rolled off smoothly into the night, merging with the traffic and
disappearing round a corner seconds later.  

     "Not my responsibility," Nabiki said softly, under her 
breath as she began to walk.  "I just sell information.  Nothing
else."

     After a few blocks, she paused near the canal that cut
through the district, leaning back against the fence and opening
up the envelope.  

     So much money, she thought vaguely as she counted.  She
could have lived contentedly on what stipend she got from selling
information, and yet when she thought of it, it truly never
seemed enough.  So she ran all the other little scams beside it,
and got even more money, and it still never seemed enough.

     Finished with her counting, she looked up, and realized how
empty the streets seemed.  Pools of light from streetlamps lay
scattered on the darkness, and the moon hung in the sky, waning
slowly after each night towards its eventual destiny as a thin
sliver of light.

     Turning, she rested her arms on the top of the chain-link
fence, staring down into the slowly-moving water of the canal.
Bits of garbage bobbed in it, carried on the flow.  The wind
gusted again, and threatened to snatch the envelope from her 
hands.  She clung tightly to it, turned away, and began to walk
through empty streets towards home.

**********

     Ranma groaned and raised his head.  He opened his eyes, and
there was no change in his vision.  The darkness was absolute, 
and he could see nothing, not even the hand in front of his face.

     He lay on something smooth and cold, stone probably.  
Rising to a sitting position, he listened to the sound of his own
quiet breathing in the darkness, shockingly loud.  After a 
moment, he heard other breathing, and realized that he was not
alone.

     He reached out, lightly brushing his hand across the stone
floor towards the source of the breathing, until his fingers
touched what felt like an arm, slender and covered by a long
sleeve.

     "Kima?" he asked softly.
     
     There was silence for a moment, and then a voice that
sounded half-asleep.  "Wiyeed."  A hand found his and gripped it 
tightly in the darkness.  "I think something went wrong," Herb's
sister said, a trace of fear underlying the formal, controlled 
tones.

     OH YES, LITTLE ONES, the darkness said in a booming voice
like thunder, echoing from all around them.  SOMETHING WENT VERY,
VERY WRONG INDEED.

     Then there was laughter, cold and cruel and vast, and Ranma
felt a chill fear rise from the base of his spine.  Wiyeed's hand
tightened around his.  

     "Kima?" Ranma called into the dark.  "Herb?"
     
     From somewhere there came the sound of coughing, and then
Herb's voice answered weakly back from nearby.  "Ranma?"

     "Where are you, brother?" Wiyeed called.  
     
     There was a moment's silence.  "Under Lime, I think."
     
     Ranma wondered at the weariness in Herb's voice, and then
realized he himself was exhausted, not even sure if he could
manage to stand up.

     "Get off me, Lime," Herb demanded from wherever he was.

     Ranma forced his shaking legs to work, and stood up in the
darkness.  He wished Wiyeed would let go of his hand, but she was
showing no sign of releasing it any time soon, and he didn't want
to hurt her feelings by wrenching his hand away.  Besides, he
rationalized, it was important they stay in contact.

     "Did you hear that voice?" Ranma asked her quietly.
     
     Wiyeed's voice was free of any shakiness now.  "Yes."
     
     "I heard it too," Herb answered.  He grunted, and there was
the sound of something heavy falling to the floor.  "Lime's out
of it.  Where's Mint and the bird-woman?"

     Ranma frowned.  "They must be unconscious too.  We need a
light."

     He raised his free hand, and concentrated, touching back 
upon that swirling vortex of flame and ice that lay buried 
beyond the edges of his conscious.  He grabbed it, felt the 
power flow through his being, and willed it to come forth upon 
his clenched fist, burn bright like a star.

     The power, the rush of energy, came smoothly up his arm, and
produced absolutely nothing to break the absoluteness of the 
dark.  There was no light.  And again, vast laughter.  

     FOOL.
     
     "Who are you?" Ranma snapped, breaking his concentration and
letting his ki flow back into him.  The unsuccessful effort of
trying to make light had drained him further, and the only thing
that seemed to be keeping him on his feet was the tightness with
which Wiyeed gripped his hand.

     I AM A PART OF THE PART THAT AT FIRST WAS ALL the darkness
said.  I AM THE GATE I AM THE KEY I AM I AM I AM and it laughed
and laughed and laughed.  At last, the laughter died away, and
Ranma was left only with his own breathing.

     "I think we're in trouble," Wiyeed said quietly.
     
     "Dear sister, whatever gave you that idea?" Herb answered
from somewhere in that lightless dark.
     
**********

     The pounding of hand drums filled the warm night air.  Akane
ran a hand through her hair, still damp from the bath, and tried
to look calm and controlled.  Inside, she was very nervous.

     She sat with Shampoo, Ryoga and the others at the forefront 
of what seemed the entire population of the village, men and 
women and children who sat or sprawled or lay upon the grass of 
this large field.  Rather than the solemn air she had expected at 
the public meeting to judge Shampoo, the gathering had almost the 
air of a festival.  Underneath the continual pounding of the 
drums, there was the sound of laughter and talk.  Many families 
appeared to have brought their dinner with them, unpacking food 
from wicker baskets laid on the grass.  Lanterns hung on wooden 
frames softly lit the darkness with pale circles of light.

     Shampoo tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to where a
short, slightly plump woman in her late twenties laughed heartily 
at an apparent joke from a small girl.  "That Dai Jin.  She 
Council Mother."

     "Hmm?" Akane said.  "What's that?"
     
     "Three types of Council members," Shampoo said, ticking them
off on her fingers.  "Mother, Great Mother, Ancient.  Cologne was
Ancient; Fang Shi Ancient too."

     She sighed softly.  "Fang Shi is longest serving Council
member after Cologne.  They pick new Ancient later to serve on
Council."

     "Won't they just promote one of the Council elders?" Ryoga
asked from where he sat beside Akane.

     Shampoo looked at him as if he'd said something profoundly
stupid.  "Why they do that?  Ancient must be woman with
great-grandchildren.  Not all Great Mothers qualify."

     Far off in the darkness, a bird called.  Akane moved almost
unconsciously closer to Ryoga.  "Lang Bei?"

     Shampoo shook her head.  "No."
     
     Sitting crosslegged on the grass, Rouge finished twining a
long string of pearls through her hair and gave a quick tug on
them to tighten the hold.  "When will the meeting start?"

     Shampoo looked up at the position of the moon in the sky.
"Soon.  Five minutes, maybe."

     A half-dozen feet away, Genma and Happosai smoked long pipes 
with Shampoo's father, a small, slender man dressed in black, and
talked in quiet voices.  The murmur of their conversation filled
the momentary silence between the younger people for a quick
second, before Ryoga broke it.  "What do you think's going to
happen?"

     Shampoo said nothing for a few long seconds, and when she
did finally speak, her voice was pained.  "Not really know.  
Just wait and see.  I think Lang Bei on my side, at least.  She
and Cologne always get along fairly well.  Cologne's other
friends on Council may help too.  Fang Shi probably push for
exile; humiliation of powerful family like mine might give her
more power than she had before."  She smiled weakly.  "Wait and 
see, yes?"
     
     "I guess that's all you can really do, isn't it?" Akane said
quietly.  She reached out and hesitantly touched the back of
Shampoo's hand where it lay on the grass.  "We'll all do whatever
we can to help."

     Shampoo's eyes seemed doubtful, but she allowed Akane's hand
to rest atop hers for a moment.  "Thank you."

     A half-dozen girls of about their age detached from the 
crowd behind and came to stand before them.  Akane recognized
some of them from the group that had met them when they'd
entered the village.  They began to speak rapidly to Shampoo in
Chinese, their faces smiling and friendly.  Shampoo looked up and
answered back, and the girls nodded and gestured at Akane and the
others.
     
     "These old friends from before I come to Japan," Shampoo
said, turning her head to speak to Akane and Ryoga.  "They
wishing me luck."

     One of the girls said something in a sly voice and pointed
to Ryoga, who blushed from the tone.  Laughing and waving to
Shampoo, they wandered away into the crowd again.  

     Shampoo glanced to Ryoga and grinned.  "She say you look
like strong, handsome man.  Good husband."

     Ryoga blushed even harder and stared at the ground.
     
     "Just don't accept any challenges from them," Akane 
muttered under her breath.

     Shampoo nodded.  "Good idea.  When..."
     
     She paused.  "If this work out okay, I give you temporary
sanctuary with family, mean that outsider laws not allowed to
apply to you while you remain in village."

     Then she went silent again, at about the same time the drums
abruptly stopped.  On the grass ahead, the Joketsuzoku Council
was mounting onto a quickly erected wooden platform.  Akane saw
Lang Bei with her staff, Fang Shi dwarfed by her great polearm,
and the short woman Shampoo had pointed out before among them.
Fang Shi appeared the oldest; the youngest was only a few years
older than Akane.

     They sat down on a long wooden bench, and Akane counted a
dozen of them.  She glanced to Shampoo.  "I thought you said
there were thirteen."

     Shampoo looked troubled for a moment.  "Yu Mao must have had
child while Shampoo gone.  New Maiden not chosen yet."

     "Maiden?" Rouge said, the firelight swimming in the gold of
her jewelry.  

     "Maiden is special position," Shampoo said.  "Only one on
Council.  She have no vote, but when ties come, Maiden chooses 
which side will win.  So in some ways, she strongest."

     Ryoga rubbed his hands together as if to warm them.  "Why
wouldn't they have chosen a new one yet?"

     Shampoo shrugged.  "Has to be special sign.  Any woman may
be put forward, but there must be sign she... special somehow.
Yu Mao chosen as Maiden when she twelve.  She fall off 
mountainside while hunting.  Hundred foot drop onto rocks.  
Friends go down to get her body, she walking around and saying 
she have headache."

     Up on the platform, Fang Shi thumped the haft of her polearm
on the boards.  The crescent blade of the weapon glittered
nastily in the light from the lamps.  She said something to the
crowd in Chinese, and a hush fell over them.  The old woman 
waited for a moment, and said something else.  There was 
scattered laughter through the gathered people.

     Akane looked to Shampoo questioningly.  "She seems a lot 
friendlier up there."

     Shampoo sneered derisively.  "Fang Shi know how to work 
crowd."
     
     Lang Bei stood up, her long grey braid hanging down across
her shoulder.  She too spoke in Chinese, and there were scattered
cheers.

     Shampoo's sneer dissolved into a slight, happy smile, an
expression nothing so much like that of a delighted child.  She
looked from Akane to Ryoga to Rouge.  

     "You all lucky," she said, all traces of her sadness gone.  
"Is very special thing you see.  Very important.  Holy."

     Up on the platform, Lang Bei reached into her grey robes and
pulled out a small wooden flute.  Sitting back down on the bench,
she balanced her staff on her lap, raised the instrument to her
lips, and began to play a simple yet lovely melody.  The drums
picked up again, from somewhere in the crowd, undertoning the
flute.

     From the crowd, a tall figure garbed in red came forth,
dancing powerfully and gracefully in low, slow movements.  There
was an undefinable sense of menace to the dance, and the dancer
wore a fancifully carved wooden mask, a snarling demon face with
bulging eyes and fangs.

     "This is story about why women need to rule men," Shampoo
whispered.  "That is first man in world.  Because he first, he
very powerful."

     The red-garbed dancer danced by himself for a few moments,
in the space of the field between the crowd and the Council.  
Somewhere along the way, the tone of Lang Bei's flute had gone
from high and sweet to low and angry, short, quick stabs of
melody that seemed almost brutal.

     Suddenly, the dancer stopped and planted his feet, and made
a beckoning gesture towards the crowd.  Another Council member
had pulled out a second flute, and was playing a light, joyful
melody that interlaced with Lang Bei's menacing tone.  

     Another dancer came from the crowd, a woman in a flowing
garment of silky green, spinning and leaping almost her own
height into the air, absolute joy in each and every movement.
The first dancer approached her, his dance almost stalking.

     "That his first wife," Shampoo explained in a whisper.  
The one in red closed with the one green, and made an abrupt
lunge at her; she leaped nimbly back from him and then danced
forward almost teasingly.  He lunged again, and again she
avoided him.  A third time, and his arms closed around her waist
and lifted her into the air.

     The melody of flutes reached the highest pitch, and stopped.
The drums continued, and on the platform, another member of the
Council plucked a short, lonely tune on a biwa, before the flutes
joined her and a third dancer came forth, a girl no older than
ten in a white blouse and pants.  She danced in the stumbling way
of a child learning to walk, seeming as if she would topple at
many moments, but always recovering herself.

     The dancer in red placed the one in green upon the ground,
and they both began to circle the third, the man hunched low, the
woman spinning and whirling.  The firelight shone on the sweaty
faces of the woman and the girl, and in the polished wood of the
demon mask the man wore.

     "They had a child together," Shampoo said softly, as the
dancers in green and white separated from the one in red and
began to dance together, daughter imitating the dance of the
mother, clumsily at first, but with increasing grace.  "But the
first man was not happy, because the child knew only peace and
love, and was not strong as he wished it to be."

     The melody of the second flute changed, became sad and
almost mournful.  Lang Bei continued to play the menacing tune
she had begun with, and the biwa player's lonely tune had changed
to one almost like that which had introduced the dancer in green.
     
     Akane took a deep breath.  She realized it was the first 
time she had done so since the dance had begun.  Shampoo was
right, she realized.  They were seeing something very special,
something wonderful and magical and deeply, deeply important.

     A fourth dancer came from the crowd, in a sweeping, sideways
dance that sent her billowing robe of golden cloth spinning 
around her.  She came to the dancer in red, slowly circled him
once, and then joined the dance of the woman in green and the
child in white.  And the child's dance as she spun between them
became a mixture of both of theirs, and the melody of flute and
biwa and the roll of drums continued.

     "The first man took second wife, to teach child strength," 
Shampoo said.  "But she not teach him his strength, but hers.
She teach child how to fight to defend self rather than for joy
of fighting, how to love, how to heal.  And first man was angry,
because child loved his wives, but not love him."

     Away from the three other dancers, the man in red danced his
own dance, even more menacing than before.  His arms reached out
towards the other dancers as if he might grasp and rend them, but
he stayed far from them.

     And the music suddenly stopped, and there was the abrupt
blowing of a horn from one of the Council members, a low, 
ponderous dirge, and a final dancer came, garbed in black and
hooded in black.  White squares of cloth hung from her arms like
wings, and she raised them and seemed almost to fly as she came
forward towards the two other women and the child.

     Akane found herself holding her breath.  The flutes and the
biwa and the drums came back, but they were a tiny sound next to
the blowing of that horn.  The woman in black swept forward, and
the dance of the other women slowed, though the child went on.
The dancer in red capered merrily.

     "He take third wife who supposed to destroy other two wives 
and child," Shampoo said in a low voice.  The third wife loomed
threateningly over the first two and the child, who cringed 
before her.  

     And suddenly, she stepped back, and the four of them began
to dance.  "But she no do it.  She love child too much."

     The man in red abruptly rushed towards the other dancers, 
somehow showing a horrible depth of hate in the way he moved.
They scattered before him, and he snatched up the child, whirled
her about him once, and then dropped her to the ground, where she
lay still.

     "So first man try to destroy child himself.  He hurt child
very badly."     

     The three wives circled him, and he turned from side to 
side, encountering one of the three with each movement.  They
closed in on him slowly, linking their hands and dancing in a
confining circle about him.  Nearby, the child still lay 
unmoving.

     The man in red slowly sank to the ground, bowing his demon
mask and kneeling.  The three women stood still around him for a
moment, and then unlinked their hands.

     Suddenly, the man sprang up and fled into the darkness, and
the sound of the music was like laughter.  The women knelt around
their child, and the sound of the music was like weeping.  They
bowed their heads, and the music slowly faded.

     The tension of the air dissolved into thunderous clapping.
From off beyond the range of the lamps, the red dancer came back,
pulling off his demon mask and revealing the face of a man no
older than twenty, sweating and smiling proudly.  The other 
dancers stood to their feet and the clapping went on, Akane
joining in, seeing Ryoga do the same.

     The clapping went on for a time, and then the dancers went
back into the crowd, shedding the excess of their costumes as 
they did, accepting the slaps on the back and embraces of the
other villagers with a resolute good nature.

     Rouge turned wide, shimmering eyes to Shampoo.  "That was
amazing," she said.  "I've never seen anything like that
before.  But what happened to the child?  To the first man?  To
the wives?"

     Shampoo shrugged.  "Is only story.  Child learn how to hate
and fear and cause pain from father hurting child, so that why we
have hate and fear and pain.  From wives, we learn how to heal
and love and defend ourselves.  So we have evil and good in us."

     She rolled her eyes.  "Not mean it all true.  But truth
behind it."

     "I don't think it's important whether or not it really
happened that way," Ryoga said quietly.  "It's what it tells us 
about the way we are that's really important."

     Shampoo nodded and looked surprised.  "Yes.  That right."
     
     Fang Shi stood up and again banged the haft of her polearm
on the boards.  She called out in Chinese to the crowd, and again
a hush fell.

     Shampoo's face darkened.  "She is saying I break law for
second time, and must be punished.  She demand an explanation
for Cologne's absence and the absence of my..."

     She paused for a moment.  "Ranma."
     
     Fang Shi spoke again, harshly.  Shampoo paled visibly.  "She
will seek exile."

     Lang Bei stood and said something after a quick glance at
Fang Shi.  Shampoo looked visibly relieved.  "Lang Bei says that
I can tell story to council and to village.  Tell about what
Cologne do."

     She stood to her feet and began to walk towards the Council.
Akane was sure she felt every eye focus upon Shampoo suddenly,
felt the weight of all those stares along with the other girl, 
and realized suddenly what bravery this had to take.

     Shampoo stood before the Council on the grass of the field,
head bowed, lit on either side by the flickering of lanterns.  
The hush of the crowd was a loud silence.  Fang Shi snapped
something at her; Lang Bei said something more gently.

     Shampoo stepped onto the platform and looked from face to
face of the Council.  She raised her head, nodded once, then
turned to face the villagers, her back to the Council, and began
to talk.  

     Akane listened, not understanding any of the words, trying
to sense by tone the gist of what Shampoo said.  Rouge translated
occasionally, and from what she said, Akane understood that
Shampoo was telling about what had happened to her in Japan.
Surprisingly, if Rouge was speaking true, the account was
remarkably unbiased.

     She talked for a long time.  Near the end, when she began to
go into detail about how Cologne had gone mad, her face 
tightened, and Akane was close enough to see how much pain was in
her eyes, even as she denounced her great-grandmother before the
entire village.

     Watching Shampoo as she spoke, Akane felt an odd kinship
with her former rival, something that transcended all barriers of
culture or language or past.  She seemed to see into Shampoo's
heart, see how frightened and alone the other girl felt.  And she
felt a strange, fierce pride as Shampoo stood alone and spoke
without the slightest tremble in her voice for nearly two hours,
and the lanterns burned low, and night came on.  Each time 
Shampoo paused for breath, the whispers swept through the crowd.  
And each time she began to speak again, they died and there was 
only silence.

     "I wish I could speak Chinese," Ryoga muttered under his
breath in one period of silence.

     Rouge brushed a hand through her hair.  "It's all very
interesting.  Did all those things really happen to you, Akane?"

     Akane shrugged.  "Shampoo doesn't need to make anything up.
The whole story is weird enough by itself."

     At last, there came a point where Shampoo paused, and said
nothing more.  On the bench behind her, Lang Bei slowly nodded 
her head and stood up.

     "Akane Tendo," she said in Japanese, voice breaking out
across the darkness like a whip.  "Approach the Council."

     Licking her lips nervously, Akane stood up and smoothed out
her skirt, conscious that every eye truly was upon her now as she
walked up to the edge of the wooden platform and paused.  

     "Get up here, girl," Fang Shi snapped quietly, glaring at
her with hard, dark eyes.  Forcing herself to meet the ancient
woman's gaze, Akane stepped up onto the platform.  The 
Joketsuzoku Council watched her like hawks; even Lang Bei's eyes
seemed without any warmth.

     "Do you believe that Shampoo sincerely wanted Ranma Saotome
as her husband, and tried to convince him to return with her to
China?" Fang Shi asked in a quiet, menacing voice.
     
     Akane thought only for a second before answering.  "Oh, 
sure.  She hardly ever let up."

     Fang Shi nodded, and shouted out to the crowd in Chinese
before turning back to Akane.  "And to what extent did Cologne
aid her in this?"

     That took a longer moment of thought.  "Not much after she
first showed up.  Mostly, she just seemed to watch."

     Fang Shi nodded again, and again called out to the crowd.  
"And did Ranma Saotome defeat Saffron of the Phoenix?"

     Akane closed her eyes and nodded.  "He did."
     
     "And Saffron and his people are real?"
     
     Akane nodded again.
     
     Fang Shi spoke to the crowd again, and Akane opened her
eyes.  The old woman did not look pleased, and neither did 
several other Council members.
     
     "You may leave our presence now, outsider," Fang Shi said.
Akane slowly turned and walked back towards where Rouge and Ryoga
sat at the front of the crowd, trying to somehow meet the eyes of
everyone who stared at her.

     As she settled back down between her friends, she heard Lang
Bei calling out.  Happosai stood up from where he had been 
sitting with Genma and Shampoo's father, and approached the
platform with a large bag slung over his shoulder.  He hopped up
onto the platform, and began to pile objects in front of the
Council, speaking rapidly and loudly in Chinese.  Akane saw the
Council members, even Fang Shi, looking on with interest and
slight amazement.

     "What a horrible man his grandfather sounds," Rouge said
with a trace of disgust.  "Is he truly as vile as he says?"

     Akane was confused for a moment, and then recovered.  "Uh... 
yeah," she said quickly.  Ryoga nodded his head in an 
unconvincing gesture of agreement.

     Fang Shi said something to Happosai, and he bowed and backed
off the platform, leaving the treasures he had stolen so long ago
behind.  Shampoo followed him a moment later, and Fang Shi stood
up, leaning for support on her polearm.  She spoke loudly and
sharply to the crowd.

     "She says the meeting is over," Rouge translated, covering a
yawn with a slim hand.  "The Council will convene in private now.
They will send a messenger to Shampoo's house when a decision is
reached."

     The gathered villagers were already beginning to disperse,
the festive air they had assumed before returning to a degree, as
they walked back towards the village that stood a few hundred 
feet away from the large grassy field in which the meeting had
been held, talking excitedly to each other.  

     Shampoo was before them now, looking downcast, her eyes
shadowed, weariness finally showing through.  "We go home now."

     Akane stood up and put a hand on the Joketsuzoku's shoulder,
feeling the tension running through her.  "How do you think it
went?"

     Shampoo closed her eyes.  "I not know."
     
     Looking suddenly up at the stars, the girl sighed softly.
"This field same place where Ranma defeat me as girl.  It all
begin here.  Now maybe it end here."

     Her shoulders slumped, and the weariness seemed to break
through completely now, as if she might fall.  "Go home now.
Only thing to do is wait."

**********

     Konatsu handed Ukyou the cup of water.  She smiled at him
and sipped from it, sitting up in bed with the covers pulled up
to her waist.  Now that she was fully awake, she was beginning to
realize just what kind of shape she was actually in, and the
realization was not heartening.  She was almost sure she had a
few cracked ribs, and the twisted angle and swollen flesh of her 
right knee left her unsure of whether she'd be able to put weight
on it.  The fingers of her left hand were hard to move without
pain.  Along with those, she had a myriad of cuts and bruises
across her entire body.

     "What are we going to do?" Konatsu lamented, sinking down
into the chair by the bed and sighing.

     Ukyou put her drained cup down on the bedside table and
tried to look reassuringly wise.  "Well, we need to figure out a
way to get out of here first..."

     Konatsu smiled sadly.  "What do you mean, Ukyou?  There are
no locks upon the doors here.  No bars upon the windows."

     Ukyou blinked at him.  "Then why..."
     
     "Stone walls do not a prison make," Konatsu said quietly.
"Sometimes, they don't need to.  My staying here was the only way
I could be sure you were safe.  I should have told you not to
come after me.  I should have told you."

     She shook her head.  "I would have come no matter what."
     
     Konatsu didn't seem to hear her.  "Now that you're awake, 
I'll talk to Hako, see if I can get her to let you go if you
promise not to return.  But..."

     He hung his head.  "I don't think it will work."
     
     Ukyou felt a flare of anger.  "Konatsu, I'm not leaving this
place without you.  Do you want to stay here?"

     He answered with silence.  Ukyou went on.  "There's no locks
here?  We can just walk out?"

     "We'd never make it," Konatsu said.  "You don't understand
what Kenzan is, Ukyou.  She is ancient.  Wherever I go, Hako can
find me.  She can find you too.  I was able to stop her from
hurting you once, but I don't have any more tricks to pull."

     "Konatsu!" she said sharply.  "You can't--"
     
     "No," he interrupted, gazing at her fiercely.  "I can.  I am
not going to let her hurt you.  And that means staying here."

     Ukyou was incredulous.  "But she's insane!"
     
     Konatsu shook his head.  "No.  What she is, is worse than
insane."

     He reached up and brushed a lock of hair away from his face.
"But she is clan leader, and I must obey her."

     "You stopped obeying your mother and sisters," Ukyou pointed
out.

     Konatsu's looked away from her, towards the door that 
presumably led out of the room.  "Hako is not like my mother and
sisters."

     Ukyou nodded silently and stared at the sheets of the bed.
     
     "Did you ever hear anything about Ranma?" Konatsu said after
a few moments of uncomfortable quiet had passed.

     "Akane went to China to look for him with some of the 
others," Ukyou said.  "I would have gone, but..."

     "You chose to come after me instead of him?" Konatsu asked 
in a soft, wondering voice.

     Ukyou nodded, feeling her face tighten as the tide of
conflicting emotions the thought of Ranma brought out in her rose
to the surface.  "Yeah.  I... Everyone else was going after him,
but you..."

     She trailed off, made mute by the stunned look in his large,
dark eyes.  Once you knew Konatsu was male, she realized, you 
began to look at him in a different way, searching for what made
him masculine rather than feminine.  It helped that he wasn't
wearing any makeup right now, but as she studied the lines of
his face, she could not understand why she had ever thought he
was female.

     "Thank you, Ukyou," he said, reaching out and taking her
hand between two of his.  "You... you have no idea how much that
means to me."

     And she could not bring herself to speak, the depths of his
eyes catching her soul and holding it.  "No problem," she finally
managed to croak.

     A sudden knocking on the door made him release her hand and
turn in his chair.  The door swung open, and Ukyou released her
held breath when she saw that it was not Hako.  The woman who 
stepped into the room seemed almost the opposite of the cruel 
leader of Kenzan.  She was short and plump, and she had the most 
serene, lovely face Ukyou had ever seen, flawless and smooth, 
with bright, kind eyes and a broad smile.

     "I hope I am not interrupting anything," she said.  Her
voice was very soft, almost a whisper.  "It is good to see you
are awake finally."

     Konatsu rose out of the chair and stood between the woman
and the bed.  "Who are you?"

     The woman half-bowed.  "I am Nenreiko.  I am a healer at
times.  May I examine your friend?"

     Konatsu glanced back to Ukyou.  "Ukyou?"
     
     Ukyou looked at Nenreiko for a long moment, and then nodded.
Somehow, she trusted her.  The plump woman stepped past Konatsu, 
graceful despite her stockiness and a pronounced limp in her left 
leg, and stood at one side of the bed.  She stretched out her 
hand and touched Ukyou's forehead, her fingertips cool and
soothing.

     She nodded slowly, her smile never leaving her face.  "What
I am going to do may hurt a little."

     "That's okay," Ukyou said.  Standing nearby, Konatsu's face
twisted in a half-frown, as Nenreiko moved her hand down to 
Ukyou's left shoulder and rested there.  Ukyou winced; she had a
lot of bruises there from being thrown against the wall by Hako.

     "Are you ready?" Nenreiko asked softly.
     
     Ukyou nodded.  And pain snapped brutally through her entire 
left arm, through bone and sinew and blood and flesh, so huge she 
could not even scream, could only let out a whimper like a dying 
animal.  Her vision darkened.  Unconsciousness threatened for a
long second.

     Then Nenreiko took her hand away, and the pain stopped.
Almost sobbing, Ukyou lay for a moment in the aftershocks of that
pain, before she realized it didn't hurt anymore.  Her left arm
felt slightly numb, but there was no more pain, and she flexed
the fingers of her hand easily.  "How did you..."

     Nenreiko's smile seemed permanent.  "I have certain skills."
     
     "Did Hako send you?" Konatsu asked, still glaring
suspiciously at the woman.

     Nenreiko nodded.  "Hako and I are acquaintances.  We do not
share the same views on all things, nor does she dictate to me
what I do."

     "Konatsu," Ukyou said quietly, staring wonderingly at her
arm.  "It's okay.  Really, it's okay."

     He nodded, licked his lips uncomfortably, and turned to 
stare at the door.  Nenreiko turned her attention back to Ukyou.
"Ready for more?"

     Ukyou nodded again.  
     
     "Don't feel you need to hold back the screams," the plump
woman said.  "In fact, it's better if you don't."

     She put a gentle hand on each side of Ukyou's ribcage, and
Ukyou gritted her teeth and waited.  A steel-sheathed fist
clenched her torso for an infinite expanse of pain, and she
gasped and sucked air desperately when Nenreiko took her hands
away.  Again, the pain of bruised or cracked ribs was gone.  She
felt tears of agony on her face.

     Nenreiko stepped away from the bed.  "It is not safe to do
too much at one time.  You'll need to rest for a while before I
can work on you again."

     "Thank you," Ukyou whispered weakly.  Nenreiko nodded once
and turned to go, limping heavily across the floor as she did.
She passed the silent Konatsu, whose eyes tracked her as she
opened the door and left.  Ukyou caught a glimpse of a narrow
wooden hallway beyond the open door, and then it vanished.

     Konatsu sat down at the foot of the bed and folded his hands
in his lap.  "Did it hurt much?"

     Ukyou nodded.  "A lot.  But only for a second, and it 
doesn't hurt anymore."

     "Nothing good can come from Hako."  Konatsu's face was dark
with anger.  "Only pain, in the end."

**********

     Nabiki walked the streets as night came on, one hand thrust
into the pocket of her jeans, the other gripping the bulging
envelope tightly at her side.

     She stared at her feet as she walked, and looked up at last
to see where she had gotten to.  Somehow, the familiar path of 
the streets had become entangled in her mind.  The area she was 
in was shabby and poor, tenement-style apartment buildings rising
all around, between faded storefronts covered with dust.  It was
not a place she ever would have walked through.  It was place to
be avoided, a place without hope.  She ignored the people passing
by as if above them, ignored the faint sound of children laughing
that echoed from between open windows dozens of feet above the
sidewalk.

     She was, she realized with a twinge of annoyance, lost.  She
had no idea where she was, and no idea how to find her way back.
How, she wondered, had she ever gone so far astray?
     
     Two hard-eyed boys about her age tracked her with their eyes
as they lounged against the wall of an abandoned building, 
cigarettes clamped between their teeth glowing red in the slow
fall of the night.  Half the streetlamps here seemed broken or
flickering, and there was too much, too much dark.  The shadows
seemed to gather in the corners of buildings and the depths of
alleyways.  Annoyance began to give way to fear as she paused at 
a corner and studied the unfamiliar street names.  Where was she?

     "You dropped this."
     
     She turned to see one of the boys proffering the envelope of
money, a slight grin on his face.  Smoke wreathed his face from
the cigarette held burning between his fingers.

     Warily, she reached out and took it.  "Thank you."
     
     He nodded and turned to walk back to his friend, then 
paused.  "You lost?"

     "A little," she replied grudgingly.
     
     "Just go up that way there," the boy said, pointing up a
long, narrow street.  "Take a right, go up another block, and
you'll be at one of the main streets.  This area's sort of a
maze."

     Nabiki nodded an abrupt thanks and turned away, anxious to
leave the place behind.  She heard the boy scuffing his shoes 
across the sidewalk as he went back to join his friend, the sound 
of their conversation again filling the air.  She saw people 
calling out to each other from the open windows of apartments, 
other people looking up from where they walked on the sidewalk to 
return the greeting.  Despite the darkness of the place, the 
looming shadows of the buildings and the broken lights, the air 
was filled with the hum of human voice.

     She counted the money in the envelope, found to her
surprise it was all there, and felt an unfamiliar sense of regret
that she had been as rude as she had been to the boy.  She 
followed his directions, and on finding herself within a few
minutes at a place she recognized, began to wonder how she had
ever become lost at all.  

     Across the street, she saw a small park, darkly clustered 
with trees and wound throughout with concrete paths thinly 
suffused in the light of streetlamps placed at regular intervals 
along their edges.  Cutting across it would get her home quicker 
than any other way, and a quick glance at her watch showed her it 
had been over an hour now since she'd left the house.  The night 
was deepening, and she had to be home for bed.  There was school 
tomorrow, and she still had a few bits of homework to do.

     She crossed the street in a cluster of several of the other
people that made up the crowds of the night streets, crowds that
were slowly thinning down in residential areas like this as the
hours went by.  Entering into the park, she walked down the path,
past a bench where the murmurs of two lovers rose into the night
as they embraced.  For a moment, she felt an aching sense of
profound loneliness, and then it passed as she went deeper into
the park, under the shadows cast by trees.  From far off, there
came the screaming of a siren, rising and falling, like the tide
rolling in and out.

     Nabiki walked off the path, away from the glare of lights
and into a shadowed grove, leaning her back against a tree and
hugging her arms around herself.  Summer was fading, the night
was cold, and the leaves of the trees soon would turn, and fall,
and die.

     "What am I going to do?" she whispered to herself, closing
her eyes and listening to the crinkle of the envelope as she
tightened her grip on it.  The bark of the tree was rough against
her back.  A twig cracked behind her, and a hand fell upon her
shoulder.  She let out a yelp and instinctively started to run,
but a strong hand grabbed her arm and yanked her back.

     "Nabiki Tendo," a familiar voice said into her ear.  "Why do
you seek to flee from me?"

     Kuno's hand released her arm, and she turned to look at him,
rubbing the spot he'd gripped.  "You surprised me.  Why are you
sneaking up on a girl in a park, anyway?  You're looking to get
arrested."

     There was a strange look in Kuno's eyes, she noted vaguely.
He said nothing, only bent down and picked up the envelope she'd
dropped.  Scattered bills were spread out on the ground between
them, fallen when the unsealed envelope had opened upon hitting 
the ground.

     "You dropped this," he said sardonically as he straightened
to his feet and held it out to her, his eyes sweeping across the 
thousands of yen scattered across the ground.  "Profit has been 
good lately, has it not?"

     "Not your business," Nabiki replied shortly, snatching the
envelope back from him.  "Well, are you going to help me pick 
them up or not?"

     Kuno smiled and knelt, beginning to gather up bills into his
hands.  Nabiki crouched down and began to do the same.  Their
eyes met across the foot of space between them, and Nabiki
realized only then that Kuno was wearing the shirt and pants of
his school uniform.  She had not seen him in those for a long 
time; he had worn them rarely, since Ranma came.

     "I believe that is all of them," Kuno said, handing her the
money he had gathered and standing back up.  "Quite a lot of
money, Nabiki Tendo.  What did you get it all for?"

     Nabiki regarded him flatly.  "This and that."
     
     "Ahh," Kuno replied sagely.  "Indeed."
     
     Nabiki looked him up and down.  "Why are you dressed like 
that?  What happened to the samurai costume?"

     Kuno shrugged.  "I do what I want."  Suddenly, he reached 
out and grabbed her shoulder in a tight grip.  "Stop working for 
them, Nabiki.  They will take everything they can from you, and 
then they will destroy you."

     Her mouth went dry, and for a shocked moment, she could not
respond.  Instinct took over quickly, though.  "What are you
talking about, Kuno-baby?"

     "You know what I am talking about," he said quietly.  "You
do not see what it is you serve, Nabiki.  You must see that there
will be a time when they need you no longer, and then what?"

     His eyes caught her, and there was none of the Kuno she knew
in them, no sign of him at all.  "Already it begins, Nabiki.  
They leave, all those who were gathered to him, and only we who
were here before remain."

     "Who?" Nabiki snapped.  "Ranma?"
     
     Kuno nodded.  His eyes were hard, so hard, dark and bright. 
"He was the key.  I saw that from the start.  I was shown that 
from the start.  But all else was lies, Nabiki.  All else was 
lies.  They kill us for their sport, Nabiki.  For their sport."

     He was, Nabiki realized with cold conviction, insane.  She
saw it with a sudden, absolute clarity.  The buffoonery had been
a guise, a mask.  He was not a fool; he was a madman.  But more 
frightening than that, more frightening than almost anything else 
could have possibly been, he knew.  Somehow, somehow, he knew.
     
     Nabiki turned and ran.  She expected him to follow, his long
legs to outpace her, expected more revelations of the deepest
secrets of her life to rise from him like from some damned oracle
staring into her soul, but he only stood, watching her go.

**********

     "Can either of you make light?" Ranma asked.
     
     He felt a tingle like a shock of electricity from Wiyeed's
hand to his.  "No," the girl said moments later.  "I can reach my
ki, but I get nothing."

     "Nor I," Herb growled.  He sounded very close by.  
     
     Ranma reached out towards where Herb's voice had come from,
and felt it impact with a hard chest.  "Herb?"

     A hand grabbed his wrist.  "Yes."
     
     Wiyeed's footsteps echoed on the stone floor as she moved,
presumably to stand next to her brother.  "Take my hand, 
brother."

     Herb presumably did so.  Ranma could not see anything.  His
eyes had made no adjustment to the darkness in all this time.

     "Focus," Wiyeed said.  "Picture your ki flowing from out of 
your hands into the hands you are holding."

     As Ranma did so, he felt a much sharper shock from the hands
he was holding.  There was a moment in which he seemed to be one
and yet three, and then he was only one again, and on the edge of
his senses he could feel Herb and Wiyeed, the shape of their
power.  

     "Concentrate," Wiyeed whispered.  "Make light.  All of us
together."

     He felt the power flow through them, an endless cycle, from
Herb's hand to his hand to Wiyeed, and he willed the light to
come, placed his will with theirs.  And the light came, thin and
pale, but it came, outlining their bodies in white fire, casting
back the darkness and showing them a small room of stone without
exits, low-ceilinged and confining.  Lime was on his back in one
corner.  In another, Ranma saw Kima sprawled half-leaning against
the wall, wings askew.  Mint was curled into a tight ball in
another corner.  None of them were moving.

     "Don't let go of each other's hands," Wiyeed said, her face
pale in the light.

     "Where are we?" Herb asked wearily, looking even more 
haggard than his sister.  His white hair looked almost silver 
from the way the light struck it.

     MY PLACE.
     
     Wiyeed pursed her lips and looked at the ground as the huge
voice echoed.  There was a vast grief in her eyes.  "When Tanzei
interrupted the Nightpool ceremony, he must have..."

     CLEVER CLEVER CLEVER the voice taunted, rising from the
stone.  CLEVER CLEVER CLEVER CLEVER.

     "Shut up," Herb snarled.  Surprisingly, the voice did.  
"What is that?"

     "Can't we try to figure out what we're doing here later?"
Ranma asked peevishly.  "Why don't we make sure everyone else is
alright first?"

     They moved over to Kima, hands still linked.  Ranma saw with
a surprising amount of relief that her chest rose and fell with
slow, even breaths.  "Kima?"
     
     She blinked and opened her eyes, looking blearily up at him.
"Where are we?"

     MY PLACE.
     
     "I told you to shut up," Herb shouted, ripping his hand out
of Ranma's and letting fly with a blast of ki at the ceiling.  
The light around their bodies immediately extinguished, and they
saw the room for a moment longer before Herb's blast slammed into
the ceiling and dissipated.  Then, again, they were in darkness.

     "Brother!" Wiyeed admonished.
     
     "My head hurts," Herb muttered.  "Make him shut up, Wiyeed."
     
     "I can't, Herb," Wiyeed said with a strange compassion.  
"Not any more.  Only you can."

     Herb's voice was edged with pain.  "He's so strong, Wiyeed.
And he's got so much hate."

     Ranma heard the sound of Kima rising to her feet, and then
her hand touched his shoulder.  "What's going on?" she whispered.

     "I don't know," Ranma said.  "Everything seemed to be going
fine, and then we woke up here..."

     "The waters of the dragons are linked by their kinship,"
Wiyeed said in a tight, quiet voice.  She squeezed his hand 
lightly in hers.  "I tried to use the waters at Jusendo to 
bring us through to the Lady's home, but..."

     CLEVER the voice said from the darkness, cutting her off.
YOU SHOULD ALWAYS KEEP YOUR WATER CLEAN.  YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT
MIGHT FIND ITS WAY INSIDE IF YOU'RE NOT CAREFUL.

     "Oh?" Ranma said.  "And what found its way inside, then?"
     
     ME.

     And now they were in a different place, instantly and
shockingly.  Bright sun splashed down through the translucent 
jade leaves of the vast trees, laid tinted shadows across the
emerald grass of the ground.  Ranma stood with the other five 
near the edge of a great circular clearing ringed by trees
hundreds of feet tall.  In the centre of the clearing there was a 
tree that seemed to stretch up so high it would touch the sky 
itself, as thick as a building, gnarled and impossibly ancient.

     Two men stood with their backs to the tree, in the shadow of
the branches above them.  One was short and slim, plain-faced,
dressed in a rich tunic and pants of bright blue silk.  He held a
long, slender sword defensively before him.  The other was tall
and magnificent, inhumanly beautiful.  His hair was a wave of
cascading silver that fell past his shoulders, and he had the 
same features that marked Herb and Wiyeed's ancestry.  Ranma 
looked at him, and somehow, he feared the man more than any other 
he had ever seen.  He seemed to carry an immense power in him.

     The two men were ringed by a dozen other men and women in 
rich silken robes in all the colours of the rainbow.  All of them 
had ears with pronounced points.  Half of them had stark white 
hair, and the other half had hair of startlingly vivid shades of
green.

     "What is this place?" Kima said quietly, looking around at
the beauty laid before them.  Ranma saw that the trees grew 
thick, and some of them had been shaped into fountains that
splashed water into artfully-carved marble basins.

     "Wurdsenlin," Wiyeed whispered.  "It was the home of my
ancestors, and Herb's.  Before the World-Hater came."

     Ranma glanced to her, and saw that she wept.  Herb was
silent beside his sister.  Mint and Lime were looking around in
wonder, awed and confused.

     He squeezed her hand, as she had done to his before, and
turned his gaze back to the confrontation in the centre of the
grove.  One of the green-haired men stepped forward, raising a
hand accusingly and opening his mouth to shout something.  The
scene was like a silent film, however, and there was no sound
beyond their voices.  The silver-haired man, who wore black 
armour polished mirror-bright, silently laughed.  His short 
companion seemed less assured, his blade trembling with 
anticipation.

     Ranma realized what he was going to see, realized with an 
absolute and terrible clarity.  He had seen it before, from a 
different perspective.  

     The men and women in their beautiful finery raised their 
hands, and their hands were wreathed with power.  The 
silver-haired man raised his, and two of those around him died
horribly, jerking and twisting as blood ran from their mouths,
their limbs snapping and flesh tearing as if rent by invisible
claws.  His companion moved with stunning speed, thrusting his 
blade through the heart of a green-haired woman in golden robes 
and pulling back as she fell, golden robes bloodied.

     One of the the white-haired men leapt forward, drawing a
curving blade from his belt and slashing out at the silver-haired
man.  His blow was true, and the man in the black armour stared 
in shock for a moment at the stump of his wrist and the blood 
that pumped with odd sluggishness from it, as if he had never 
been wounded before and did not know how to respond.
     
     Then he laughed, and gestured, and the earth cracked beneath
his foes and swallowed them, tongues of fire licking a dozen feet
into the air from the chasms that opened at his command, and
closed just as quickly with another gesture.  His short companion 
fell to his knees before the silver-haired man and prostrated 
himself, kissing his feet.

     The man Wiyeed had called the World-Hater reached down and
touched the bleeding stump of his right wrist to the forehead of
the short man.  Blood washed across the face of the man, and he
wept with joy, his tears mingling with blood.

     The World-Hater raised his remaining hand and clenched his
fist, and black fire became the world, consuming the great tree
he stood before, the grass, everything, everything.

     It washed over Ranma and Kima and Herb and Wiyeed and Mint
and Lime, and yet they were not consumed.  Now they were in
darkness again, standing upon stone and yet around them now was 
a thin circle of light that let them see each other.

     Wiyeed was weeping openly, her face buried in her hands.
Kima looked as if she were close to doing the same.  Ranma felt
as if he might at any minute.  Mint and Lime looked pale and
sick.  

     Only Herb seemed unaffected.  He stood with his fists
clenched at his sides and his head bowed.  Then Herb did 
something which forever changed Ranma's opinion of the proud,
arrogant prince.  Turning, perhaps more with a sense of duty than 
anything else, he took his sister into his arms.  He stood stoic 
and tall as she sobbed against his shoulder, staring at Ranma as 
if daring him to say anything.

     Ranma turned to Kima.  "You know who that was, right?"
     
     She nodded.  Said nothing.  Stared at the ground.
     
     "Master Herb?" Mint said petulantly, his voice cracking.
"When are we going home?"

     "You aren't," a beautiful voice said from somewhere beyond
the range of the light, the tones as smooth as glass.  It was the
voice of a king, of a god, of a man born to rule.  "You're going
to die here."

     And there was laughter now, cutting like a blade and cruel
as time.  So much hate here.  So much darkness.  So little light.

**********

     Akane knelt at the round wooden table in Shampoo's living
room, before a cold fireplace, and sipped her tea.  In the 
kitchen, she heard the sound of Genma and Happosai talking with
Shampoo's father.  Pipe smoke drifted out the open doorway and
hung near the high rafters of the living room.

     Across from her, Ryoga yawned, covering his hand with his
mouth.  "How long are they going to take?"

     "Could be long time," Shampoo murmured softly.  "You go to
bed if you want, Ryoga.  Father can make up guest room for you."

     Ryoga shook his head.  "I'm staying up until we find out.
No matter how much tea I have to drink to keep awake."

     He punctuated his point by pouring himself another cup from
the steaming kettle that lay in the centre of the table.  His
hands trembled as he did.  He looked as tired as Akane felt.  The 
long journey to reach Shampoo's village had taken its toll, and 
none of them had slept since they'd woken this morning.

     That wasn't entirely true, Akane noted, glancing to Rouge,
who already appeared half-asleep, her head bowed where she knelt
at the table.  As if alerted by Akane's gaze, she jerked her head
up suddenly and mumbled something sleepily.

     "Go to bed, Rouge," Shampoo said with unusual kindness.  
"You falling asleep at table."

     "No, it's okay," Rouge said, shaking her head and looking 
up.  She cupped her chin in her hands and rested her elbows on
the table, looking blearily at Shampoo.  "How does a woman become
part of your tribe, anyway, Shampoo?"

     Shampoo blinked.  "Easiest way is to marry man of tribe.  
Why you ask?"

     Rouge yawned and closed her eyes.  "No reason..."
     
     Shampoo shrugged and sighed.  "Waiting is worst part of it.
Not knowing what going to happen."

     Ryoga nodded and gulped down his entire teacup in one swift
motion.  "Uh-huh."

     There came a knocking at the front door.  Everyone snapped 
to attention immediately, even Rouge.  Happosai, Genma and
Shampoo's father came in from the kitchen, and Shampoo's father
bustled quickly down the hallway to the front door to let in the
knocker.  He returned moments later with Lang Bei, his eyes
unreadable behind his dark glasses.

     Mousse's grandmother looked around at the people in the room
for a long moment.  Her eyes hung a bit longer on Shampoo than 
anyone else, and then she spoke.  "The Council has reached their
judgement.  There was a split in the votes first.  Half voted in
support of exile, the motion put forward by elder Fang Shi.  
Half voted in support of public reprimand, the motion put forward
by myself."

     Her face softened slightly, and she looked at Shampoo with
surprising tenderness.  "Elder Fang Shi put forward another 
motion which was passed by eight votes to four.  At sunrise 
tomorrow, you will go to Jusenkyou and be tried by the waters 
there.  Elder Fang Shi will serve as the executor of that
judgement.  I will accompany her to ensure the fairness of it.
You may choose two companions to serve as witnesses to your
judgement.  Elder Fang Shi will be doing the same."

     She was silent for a moment.  "Thus is the judgement of the
Council."

     Akane looked at Shampoo.  The girl had gone deathly pale.
     
     Lang Bei asked Shampoo something in Chinese, and Shampoo
answered in the same, bowing her head with acceptance.  She
switched to Japanese moments later.  "I understand and accept my
judgement, elder Lang Bei."

     "I will come for you at sunrise," Lang Bei said gently.  She
turned and walked away without another word.

     Shampoo looked around the room at the stunned faces of the
others.  "No say anything.  Nothing to say.  Judgement is
rendered, and I meet it.  We sleep now.  Night be over soon.  Day 
will come, and I do what I must."

     She rose stiffly from the table and walked away.  None of
them, perhaps sensing that none of them could help in any way,
moved to follow her.

**********
     
     It was an hour later that Nenreiko came back, and she was
not alone.  Konatsu and Ukyou had passed it in uncomfortable
conversation; she had given up trying to convince him to leave
after the first fifteen minutes, and was now only trying to find
out as much as she could about Kenzan.  Konatsu was extremely
reticent, however, and told her little of use.  Training was
harsh, he told her, but beyond that, there was nothing else.  No,
he was not happy, but he was not meant to be happy, and happiness
was not a right.

     This time, Nenreiko did not knock.  The door to the room 
opened while Konatsu was in the bathroom filling another cup of 
water, and Ukyou involuntarily gave a slight whimper of fear as 
she saw Hako behind Nenreiko.

     "It is still too early," Nenreiko said angrily as she 
stepped in ahead of Hako.  "She is still too weak."

     "You weren't supposed to heal her in the first place," Hako
snapped back.  The tension was thick between the two women.

     "We mustn't fight among ourselves, sisters," a third voice 
said from the hallway behind them, light and elegant.  "That will
accomplish nothing."

     The woman who stepped into the room next was taller even
than Hako, skeletally gaunt.  Her eyes were bright and unfocused
in a fleshless face framed by stringy, dirty hair, and she 
tangled her long fingers in front of her continually without
seeming to realize it.
     
     Hako turned and glared at her.  "Stay out of this, Fuhaiko."
     
     "Watch your words, Hako," the gaunt woman answered back,
giggling slightly and waving an admonishing finger at the
kunoichi, the long sleeve of her dark green robe shifting with 
the motion.  
     
     Konatsu stepped out from the bathroom.  "What are you--"
     
     "Konatsu," Hako commanded, turning away from her argument
with the other two women to look at him.  "Be quiet.  Stay 
where you are."
     
     Konatsu looked as if he might argue for a moment, and then
Ukyou saw the fight go out of him with a twinge of 
disappointment, and he leaned against the frame of the bathroom
door, folding his arms across his chest with an unreadable
expression on his face.

     The gaunt woman, Fuhaiko, looked back into the hallway.
"Come in, little worm."

     Ukyou heard a shuffling of feet from beyond the open door,
and an old man almost as withered as Cologne or Happosai stepped 
into the room, a walking stick held in his lined hands.  His long 
white hair was up in two high tails, and his expression reminded 
her of a dog that had been recently beaten.  Oddest of all, a 
crow perched on his shoulder, regarding her with beady yellow 
eyes.

     She remembered that she wore only a nightgown, and 
self-consciously tugged the covers up past her chest, but not
before she saw the old man's eyes focus on her.  The look he gave
her reminded her of Happosai, but there was much more coldness in
it.  

     "Hello, little girl," Hako said, giving her an unpleasant
smile.  "These are some friends of mine.  I believe you already
met Nenreiko.  That other one is Fuhaiko, and an associate of
hers.  His name escapes me."

     "I think he has one," Fuhaiko remarked cheerfully.  "But I
just call him little worm.  Isn't that right, little worm?"

     The old man regarded Fuhaiko with a look of fear that barely
disguised his hatred.  "Yes."

     Fuhaiko giggled again.  "Good worm."
     
     Nenreiko broke her silence.  "I still do not like doing it
so soon, Hako."

     "Time is not something we have, Nenreiko," Hako answered
shortly.  "Just do it.  The girl will be alright.  She is
surprisingly resilient."

     She turned her eyes to Ukyou.  "Isn't that right?"
     
     Ukyou gathered all her courage.  "Go to hell."
     
     Hako laughed.  "Been there, done that."
     
     Fuhaiko giggled, and Nenreiko's permanent smile seemed to
increase slightly.  Hako stepped up to the bed and leaned down,
gazing into Ukyou's eyes.  The wound that Ukyou had done to the
right side of her face had become a puffy white scar already,
running from above her ear to her jaw.  "Watch your tongue with 
me, little girl, or I'll cut it out."

     "Get away from her."
     
     Konatsu's voice was sharp.  He had not moved from where he
stood by the door, but Ukyou saw the same fire in his eyes as had
been there when she'd woken up.  "Don't touch her, Hako.  Don't
even threaten her."

     Hako straightened up and backed away, raising her hands and
smiling.  "Fear not, my dear girl.  I shall not lay a hand upon
her."

     Nenreiko stepped past the tall kunoichi and smiled at Ukyou.
"This will probably hurt more than what I did before."

     She moved with surprising quickness, hands reaching out and
grabbing the sides of Ukyou's head.  Nenreiko's thumbs pressed
against her open eyes before Ukyou could instinctively close her
eyelids, very lightly, but still painfully.

     And then Ukyou felt her mind raped.  There was no other way
to describe it beyond that, an absolute violation of the deepest
core of her memory and being and soul, an instant grabbing and
disregarding of years and years of experience, until the gouging
probe, the searching hand, found what it wanted and drew away,
leaving her broken and weeping and sick.  It had taken only
seconds, but it might as well have been eternity.

     She heard Konatsu gave a cry of rage, realized she must have
screamed, and saw him leap across the room at Nenreiko.  Fuhaiko 
waved her fingers at him dismissively, and his leap suddenly 
changed direction to send him slamming into the dressing table, 
his head colliding with the mirror with a sickening crack, 
shattering it into fragments as his body sent glass bottles of 
perfume and jars of makeup crashing to the floor.

     Hako had a knife to the gaunt woman's throat in an instant,
pressing lightly till it drew a line of blood.  "You stupid 
bitch," she snarled.  "If there is any permanent damage..."

     "There is none," Nenreiko interrupted from where she knelt
down by Konatsu.  "A minor scalp laceration.  I can heal it in an
instant."

     "Get away from him," Ukyou shouted, or tried to, but it came
out as a thin wail.  She could feel tears on her face, still feel
the touch of that hand upon her mind and soul, like a foulness
inside her skin.  

     Nenreiko ignored her and pressed her hand to Konatsu's
bleeding forehead, as he lay unconscious on the ground.  He
spasmed and screamed, but even from here, Ukyou saw the bleeding
slow to a trickle and then stop.

     "What are you?" she whispered fearfully as Nenreiko stood
back up, limping heavily across the floor.

     Nenreiko's smile was still on her face, but now Ukyou saw 
for the first time, how cold the brightness of her eyes was, like
dark ice glinting in the sun.  "I am, you could say, a 
connoisseur of pain.  It is why Hako and I get along so well.  We 
share similar interests.  Unlike her, however, I am capable of 
doing wounds far deeper than the body.  And I can keep my 
patients alive longer."
     
     "Do you suppose you could put the knife down now, Hako?"
Fuhaiko said quietly and calmly.  The old man appeared to be
trying to make himself inconspicuous in one corner of the room,
his cold, hungry eyes staring at Ukyou as she lay in bed.  The
ugly black bird on his shoulder squawked softly and preened one
wing, dropping what looked like a maggot onto the floor of the
room from its filthy plumage.  The old man casually brought his
boot down on it, mashing it into the carpet.

     Hako took the knife away from the gaunt woman's throat and
ran a red-gloved finger along the bloody edge.  She popped it 
into her mouth and grimaced.  "You need to eat better, Fuhaiko.  
You taste like a sewer.  Whatever drugs you have coursing through
your system right now don't help very much."

     "I'll be sure to keep that in mind," Fuhaiko drawled as she
rubbed her throat with one thin hand.  "Come, little worm."

     She turned and walked out of the room, the old man following
her.  Nenreiko walked a step behind, and soon only Hako remained.
The white-haired woman regarded Ukyou distastefully for a moment, 
licked her lips, and tucked her knife away somewhere.  She walked 
over to where Konatsu lay on the floor amidst the shattered glass 
of the mirror, and picked him up in her arms with surprising 
tenderness.  

     "Oh, my little pretty one," Ukyou heard her say in a whisper
as she cradled Konatsu like a child.  "If only you knew what
glorious fate awaits you."

     She turned and walked over to the bed, then deposited 
Konatsu next to Ukyou.  "Believe it or not, my dear, I think we
both feel we have her best interests at heart.  I cannot hurt you
for risk of what she may do.  But you cannot convince her to 
leave because of her fear of what I may do.  A most interesting 
triangle we are in, is it not?"

     "Konatsu is a man," Ukyou said bluntly, forcing down the
fear that she felt faced with the brutal leader of Kenzan.
     
     Hako smiled condescendingly.  "Of course she is.  I look
forward to this coming contest, dear.  I am sure the results of
it will be most interesting.  Apologize for me to Konatsu for 
Fuhaiko's stupidity when she awakes, will you?  I have things to
discuss with those two."

     She turned and walked to the door, then paused and looked
back with her hand gripping the frame.  "And please don't try to
run away.  You won't get far with your knee like that, and if you
do, I just might let Nenreiko do her little trick to you again."

     Ukyou shuddered at the memory, and found herself desperately
wanting to bathe, as many times as she could, though she knew 
that no amount of water could ever make her feel clean again.

     Hako walked out and closed the door.  Ukyou looked down at
Konatsu, then carefully moved his limp head into her lap and
stroked his dark bangs away from his forehead, grimacing at the
caked blood.  The air of the room was filled with the 
sickly-sweet scent of smashed perfume bottles.  She had never, 
ever believed that a situation could be truly hopeless, but this
came as close as any she had ever been in.

**********

     Nabiki lay on her bed and stared at the unturned pages of
her book.  She glanced to the digital clock in time to see the
numbers change, and then glanced back to the book.  Modern 
Japanese history simply was not holding her attention right now.

     With a sigh, she closed the book and dropped it on the floor
beside the bed.  The thump as it hit the ground was louder than
she'd expected, and was accompanied by a soft knock upon the 
door.

     "Come in," she said wearily, sitting up on the bed.
     
     Kasumi stepped in, a tray balanced precariously in one hand
as she grasped the doorknob in the other.  "I thought you might
like a snack, Nabiki."

     A sharp reply rose to Nabiki's lips, but she pushed it 
down, realizing that she was hungry.  "Thanks."

     Kasumi pushed the door closed with her foot and walked over
to stand by the bed.  There was a steaming mug upon the tray, and
a plate of peanut-butter toast.  Nabiki accepted the tray gladly,
balancing it on her knees.

     "Are you feeling all right, Nabiki?" Kasumi asked, reaching
out and pulling over the desk chair to sit down in.  "You've been
awfully quiet these last few days..."

     She suddenly put a hand to her cheek.  "Oh.  I suppose you
miss Akane, don't you?"
     
     Nabiki nodded and sipped from mug.  The warm, sweet taste of
cocoa filled her mouth.  "Yeah.  Things were a lot more 
interesting with her around, at least."

     She put the mug down and looked at Kasumi's unreadable face.
"How'd you enjoy dinner last night?"

     Her older sister was silent for a moment before she 
answered.  "It was nice."

     "I'm just sorry Pantyhose boy had to take that time to show
up," Nabiki muttered.  "He almost ruined the whole evening.  
Guess you enjoyed seeing Tofu, though, huh?"

     Kasumi nodded vaguely.
     
     "You ought to go visit him again," Nabiki said.  "He's 
really got it bad for you, sis."

     Kasumi looked strangely uncomfortable.  "I don't know what
you mean, Nabiki."

     "Sure you don't," Nabiki said with a wink.  "I could always
set up another dinner.  For just the two of you, maybe?"

     "Please don't go to trouble on my account."
     
     Nabiki realized vaguely that all this was only another
escape, another way of running like she had in the park, but she
went on.  "Nahh, it would be easy.  I could get dad out of the
house, take him to dinner, and you and Tofu could..."

     "Nabiki!"  Kasumi's voice was sharp.  "That's not
appropriate.  Not appropriate at all."

     Nabiki blinked.  She knew her sister's morals were a little
more dated than hers, but this was ridiculous.  "Kasumi..."

     "I have to go," Kasumi said, standing up from the chair.  "I
have things to do.  Laundry.  Washing."

     "Kasumi, wait," Nabiki said.  "Please, wait."
     
     Kasumi paused, not sitting back down, but not heading 
towards the door either.  Nabiki struggled for the words, 
glancing down at the tray as she did so.  Kasumi had drawn little
happy faces in the peanut butter on the toast.  A child's 
gesture.

     A memory rose up from years back, lying sick in bed with the
measles, and Kasumi had brought her peanut-butter toast with
happy faces on them and cocoa all day long, and stayed and read 
her stories.  Nabiki felt a sudden, unwanted wave of affection 
for her dear, sweet, slightly dim older sister, and it left her
feeling guilty and shaken, almost as much as her meeting with
Kuno had.

     "Look," she said finally.  "If you're not ready, that's
okay.  I won't try to set up anything more with Tofu if you don't
want me to.  But any time you feel the urge, just tell me.  I'll
see what I can do, okay?"

     Kasumi nodded.  "Okay."
     
     Nabiki waved a hand at her sister, smiling.  "Go do what you
have to do, sis.  I'll see you in the morning."

     Kasumi smiled back.  "In the morning."
     
     Something passed unspoken between them, something that had
not been there in many, many years.  Kasumi opened the door and
walked into the hallway.  Nabiki listened as her footsteps
retreated away, and heard the stairs creak as her older sister
walked down them.  Now she was alone again, and she could not 
run any longer.  Day by day, her information grew less and less,
her usefulness less and less.  Yoshiyuki had always lied to her,
she saw that now.  Whatever interests he and his organization
held in Ranma, they were much, much more than what he had said.  
She was trapped, she realized sickly, truly realized it perhaps 
for the first time.  She had reached the top of the mountain, and 
was now gazing at what lay beyond, into an abyss deep as the 
ocean.

**********

     Off in the darkness, a spot of light swelled into being.
The place seemed to have no walls or ceiling, only a floor of
blank stone.  The World-Hater, the Ravager, stood in the centre 
of that light, a dozen feet away from Ranma and the others, and 
regarded them dismissively.  His gaze held no pupils or irises; 
red fire boiled in the sockets of his eyes, above a cruel and 
smiling mouth.  His silver hair played about him, as if in a wind 
that touched only him.

     He floated a foot off the ground, bobbing slightly.  The
right hand, the one that Ranma had seen severed in that nightmare 
vision four thousand years old, was an articulated thing of 
polished silver, bejewelled and with too many fingers with too
many joints.  

     His blazing eyes swept over them, and he laughed again, 
coldly and with cruel humour.  "This is what they send to fight 
me?  Crippled things and children?  What of the Phoenix and the
Dragon?  What of them?"

     Ranma tried to move.  His feet seemed rooted to the floor,
his tongue thick and clumsy, his thoughts slow and half-frozen.  
"How did you bring us here?"

     "How does not matter," the Ravager said in his beautiful
voice.  "Only why.  You have come here to be judged, Lord of
Waters, you and those whose ancestors chose to oppose my will and
the will of my great god.  For he is a vengeful god, and shall
visit upon the daughters and the sons a thousandfold his fury, 
for the first defiance and the last."

     Herb turned, releasing his now-silent sister and taking a
step towards the Ravager.  He paused at the edge of the circle of
light.  "Better to die than live as tools of the darkness."
     
     "Such noble sentiment, little prince," the World-Hater said
with a sneer.  "I wonder how long it shall sustain you?  You are
of little use to me.  Your will is too strong now for me to break
through in the vessel of your flesh, and it is not even worth the
effort.  He who was gloried with my blood walks among the Valley 
of the Waters again, and he shall do my will, sweet pawn that he 
is.  You are of little use to me.  The whore you call sister and 
your imbecile guards are of no use whatsoever."

     He turned his burning eyes to Ranma.  "You, Lord of Waters,
have your own uses to fulfil in what unfolds.  You I shall allow 
to live."

     And at last, his eyes settled upon Kima, and his sneer 
turned into a thin smile.  "And you, my broken beauty, what of
you?  I wonder if any pain I might give you would match that 
which you give yourself, oh pitiful and crippled thing?"

     Ranma felt a sudden, ugly rage rise in him, and he stepped
between Kima and the gaze of the World-Hater, breaking the line
of vision.  "Leave her alone."

     Behind him, Kima laughed.  "You can do no worse to me than
has already been done, you dead, mad thing.  I do not fear you."

     Ranma heard that for a lie, for there was fear in her voice,
but also a courage, burning pure and bright.  He met the flaming
eyes of the Ravager, reborn somehow in this lightless place
between the walls of time and space, and he smirked with a
confidence he did not really feel.  "It ain't gonna be easy for 
you."

     And somehow, the laughter of the World-Hater now was so
assured of his own power that it stripped away whatever thin 
vestige of confidence Ranma had truly had.  

     "Yes," the silver-haired man said, "it is.  It's going to be 
very, very easy."  He raised his left hand and clenched it into a 
fist, and all the light went out, everywhere.