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Chapter Six: The Secret of Yasakami
“ . . . so why do men persist in finding
a bridge to close that gap
between those gods in Heaven and us mortals on Earth?”
—excerpt from Sho shen ji (“The Book of Seeking Immortals”)
* * * * * *
“What the heck d’ya think you’re doing?” screamed Ranma.
The eight of them automatically fell back into another defensive circle, their backs to each other, never tearing their eyes off the their assailants. Even now, the clan displayed an alarming recovery rate as they realigned the rows that had been toppled by the unexpected attack.
“Get a clue, Ranma!” retorted Akane, raising her fists. “We came to help!”
“We don’t need any help,” her fiance shot back, copying her action. “We were doing just fine!”
“Saotome, thou art unworthy to address the fair Akane Tendo in such a manner!” thundered Kunou, abandoning his wary scrutiny of their opponents to gaze disdainfully at Ranma.
“Don’t you dare talk to Ranma-darling like that, brother dear,” hissed Kodachi.
“May we just concentrate on the fight, please?” Mousse bellowed in exasperation. This outburst only earned him two don’t-interrupt-us-while-we’re-arguing glares as only Ranma Saotome and Akane Tendo were capable of bestowing.
“Are you trying to say that just because we’re girls, we can’t fight?” Akane’s voice took on an ominous turn.
Ranma was starting to look irked—and sheepish. “Geez, Akane...I just think—”
“Oooh! Just spare me that same old speech, Ranma,” she snapped.
“Um, Akane...” This time Ryouga spoke up, sounding nervous. “I promised myself I’d burn in hell before I’d say this, but I agree with Ranma. This’s too dangerous—”
“Oh, please!” Ukyou interrupted, her face heating with resentment. “Don’t tell me you’re with Ranchan on this stupid sexist idea. For your information, you guys weren’t doing any major butt-kicking, anyway!”
“Well, we were handling them pretty good, weren’t we?” countered Ryouga, his voice escalating in volume.
“Not the way I saw it, sugar!” yelled Ukyou.
“That’s strictly your opinio—”
At this point, a fed-up Shampoo swiped at Ryouga with her bonbori, flicking some stands of his dark hair.
“You pay attention to battle, stupid!” she groused.
Ryouga only shooed off her weapon with his own and growled, scrubbing vehemently at his scalp.
Ukyou smirked at him, Kunou and Kodachi proceeded to flail their respective war implements threateningly at each other, Mousse looked bewildered, Shampoo looked thoroughly aggravated, and Ranma and Akane continued to bicker.
Unbeknownst to them, Shino was already reassessing them as he and the clan regrouped. There was a gleam of satisfaction in his gold eyes as he noticed that somehow the ‘victims’ had engaged themselves in some sort of petty squabble. In fact, the girl with the short bob cut was incensed enough to withdraw a gigantic iron mallet seemingly out of thin air and brandish it at the boy with the pigtail.
He wanted to laugh out loud.
It was ridiculous, really. He didn’t even have to figure out a method to distract the Cursed long enough for the clan to take them. Not when they were doing such a good job of it themselves.
Shino nodded wordlessly at his comrades, then concentrated. A tiny pulsing sphere materialized within the confines of his half-clasped hands, growing larger in size and width until it was roughly four inches in diameter.
And it wasn’t made of water.
Ranma was the first to become aware of the danger when he felt the back of his neck prickle with something akin to trepidation. Ignoring Akane’s tirade, he thinned his eyes into slits and locked them on the object winking at him from between the Shoryuu leader’s fingers.
He recognized it immediately.
“Honestly! I never should’ve decided to hel—aiiieeee!” A tinny shriek escaped Akane’s mouth as Ranma suddenly threw his arms around her waist. “Ranma, what do you think you’re—”
Her outraged query was cut off as Ranma’s momentum knocked the both of them unceremoniously to the ground. She lay there, momentarily stunned.
Behind them, Mousse mimicked Ranma’s action and glomped onto Shampoo. She screamed in revulsion all the way down.
In front of them, Ryouga dived, taking a still-yelling Ukyou with him.
Kunou and Kodachi were trying to strangle each other when they lost their balance and toppled down.
Akane was just about to open her mouth and ask Ranma what the hell was going on, when something hot and blinding rushed past the space above her head—right past where she’d been standing a half-second ago before Ranma had bulldozed her into the ground.
*BOOM*
Ukyou Kuonji groaned as she shifted uncomfortably, wincing as she felt the rough earth dig into her back. Multicolored stars swam before her eyes in the wake of the glare that had filled her vision just a moment before.
She twisted her body, vainly attempting to get up. In the process, she slowly realized that something hard and heavy was sprawled on top of her, effectively cutting off her ability to lift herself up.
“What the—?” she mumbled.
Everything slowly began to come into focus.
“Aaaahhhh! Get...off of me!”
Ryouga winced at the incredible decibels of her voice and immediately rolled off of her, rubbing his temple in irritation. “Did I tell you that you’ve got a really lousy way of saying thanks?” he growled.
Ukyou scrambled unsteadily to her feet, cheeks flushed. She was on the verge of forming some sort of sarcastic comeback when Mousse, Shampoo, Kunou, Kodachi, Ranma, and Akane appeared at her back.
Kunou’s face was lightly streaked with dirt. Kodachi looked nonplussed, her violet eyes glazed over. Shampoo looked more repulsed than astonished. Mousse, curiously, sported fist-sized bruises all over his face and his glasses were askew, but he looked perfectly blissful.
“Ye gods!” gasped Kunou. “What, pray tell, was that?”
They fell back into their initial defensive stances as the Dragon clan swirled around them, carefully keeping their distance.
“Yeah, what was that thing?” Akane exclaimed.
“Ki-blast,” Ryouga responded instantly, without hesitation.
“Ki?” Ukyou regarded him in disbelief. “You mean they know how to use spirit energy attacks?”
“Oh, yeah, definitely.” Ranma’s jaw stood out in hard relief. “Looks like water ain’t the only thing these jerks can throw from their hands. One touch of those babies, and we’re toast.”
Ryouga nodded in agreement, while the others fell silent. Of all those assembled, Ranma and Ryouga were the only ones able to channel the auras they generated in battle into lethal projectiles, and they understood full well how deadly the consequences were in utilizing such an assault. It took an incredible amount of control and mastery to manipulate such a potent energy, and they were aware that only a select few skilled individuals were capable.
Ukyou chewed pensively at her bottom lip. “Okay, so it’s obvious that we’re kinda outta our league here. Now what?”
“We retreat?” queried Mousse, frowning even as his mouth formed the word. He didn’t like running away from an opponent any more than his fellow martial artists did.
“No way!” Ranma blurted out vehemently. “Lissen, I know this’s beginning to look impossible to win, but I ain’t gonna give up now, and neither should any of you.”
They all gaped at him, and around them, the clan began to reestablish offensive positions.
Ranma lowered his voice. “Look, all we need ta do is avoid those blasts and hang on as long as you can.”
“And then what?” demanded Mousse, thoroughly frustrated. “What course of action should we undertake once we are unable to fight any longer?”
There was the rustle of red and gold fabric as their attackers began to close in. The air fairly buzzed with hostile anticipation.
“Isn’t there anything that can make them vulnerable?” whined Kodachi as she cracked her whip-ribbon.
“There should be something that make them weak,” Shampoo murmured, retrieving her trusty bonbori from where they’d been knocked down.
“Yeah,” seconded Ukyou, spinning the handle of her mega-spatula. “We need something big and deadly—ya know, kind of like a last resort thing...”
“Last resort,” mumbled Ryouga, his gaze still glued to the rapidly approaching clan. “I used a Shishi Houkoudan against them when they first attacked me, but I lost consciousness soon after, so I don’t know if...”
At Ryouga’s words, the tiniest fragment of an idea stirred within the deepest recesses of Ranma’s brain, and slowly an insidious gleam surfaced in the depths of his gray-blue eyes.
As scary as it sounded, Ranma Saotome had a new plan.
* * * * * *
“What in Honolulu is goin’ on out dere?”
There was no use ignoring the authoritative voice that boomed from the open doorway of Sensei Tanaka’s Cultural History class. Roughly forty pairs of eyes reluctantly peeled themselves away from the windows and riveted on the colorful figure standing just outside the classroom door.
Sensei Tanaka found his voice first. “P-p-principal Kunou—s-s-sir!” he stuttered, in the tone of one beholding a god.
The flower-shirted, lei-wearing, shades-sporting principal of Furinkan High shuffled past the flustered instructor and peered out curiously into the schoolyard.
“Sensei Tanaka,” began Principal Kunou, very calmly, “de janitor be tellin’ me dat dere be a fight happenin’ in front of my school an’ it’s distractin’ all de students from deir much-needed education. So I be wonderin’, well, if you be knowin’ jus’ what coulda started dis.”
Sensei Tanaka whisked off his glasses and rubbed at the steamed lenses. “Ahhh—well, no, Principal Kunou, sir...”
A raucous cheer rose up suddenly from the crowd around the windows.
Principal Kunou jumped, nearly dropping his shades. “All right, dat just rattles my coconut!” he roared. “I can handle de ugly long hair an’ de crazy psychotic teacher, but I will not have dem cheerin’ one a’ dem crazy battles louder den dey do de school sports teams! I want de campus security wipin’ out dat wave in my schoolyard now!”
Tanaka mopped his sweaty forehead. “Ahhhh, I remember now, sir...Ranma Saotome was gone missing from the room when this commotion started...”
The principal ceased his hysterical diatribe at once. “Eh? What you say, Sensei? Ranma Saotome?”
“Y-y-yes, sir. The one who destroyed your coconut tree plantation in the baseball field and left you hanging by your Hawaiian underwear from the top of the flagpole...”
“Aaaah, yes...dat Ranma Saotome.” The other man’s eyes glittered behind the safety of his dark spectacles. As if he could forget those indignities he’d undergone thanks to his school’s most notorious trouble magnet. “On de other hand,” he corrected himself, baring his teeth in a shark-like grin, “mebbe we should see what be happenin’ instead, no...?”
“Principal Kunou! Principal Kunou!” A scarlet-faced security guard skittered into the room. “Those—those people—they’ve demolished your office, sir!”
“What!” The principal was furious. There was no way that bunch of psychopaths could destroy his painstakingly-designed office with its genuine sand dunes and coconut-tree wallpaper and get away with it. “Den what de hell you think you doin’ here? Go round up dem campus security—I want dose people stopped now!”
“But both your children, sir—Tatewaki and Kodachi—they are down there as well, sir!”
“Dey are?” Principal Kunou was clearly surprised.
“Yes, sir. I’m calling up the rest of campus security—”
“Uhm...no! Wait! I be changin’ me mind—!”
Another cheer erupted from the enthusiastic spectators of Furinkan High as the battle resumed below.
* * * * * *
Shampoo was only dimly aware of the shouts of encouragement emitting from the buildings around her. The noise—and everything else—dissipated into the background, melting into the scenery, so that the only thing she could concentrate on was what she was doing.
She was in the midst of battle.
True to her heritage, Shampoo reveled in combat as only a Chinese Amazon could—testing her limits through it, adapting herself to it, and thoroughly losing herself in it. This was her turf.
What made this even better was that her opponents were definitely not pushovers.
As far as Shampoo could recall, she had never encountered enemies such as these. Their fighting style was too broad to identify it as any specific kind, and yet at the same time it was too well-executed and planned for it not to be labeled as any sort of generalized combat. Her inability to distinguish their movements rendered it almost impossible for Shampoo to defend herself against their blows, much less counterattack.
For now, though, constant attacks against their antagonists would be sufficient enough for their strategy to proceed.
Shampoo allowed herself a quick, surreptitious study of her teammates’ progress. Ranma, as usual, held himself true to form, using his blazing speed and marvelous dexterity to take out his assailants one by one in record time. Mousse, amazingly, hadn’t let his concern for her welfare distract him from the task at hand, and he rained upon his foes all the weapons he could find within his robes. Kodachi was managing even better than her brother, wrapping her ribbon-whip around several enemies at a time and sending them spinning off the battlefield with a flick of her wrist. Ukyou’s long-reaching spatula and shurikens were finding their marks on the front ranks of the clan, while Ryouga continued to deal out maximum damage, staving off wave after wave of assailants by reducing the ground under their feet into rubble and using his entire arsenal of weapons—belt, umbrella, and bandannas.
So far, so good. Now if the clan refrained from using water spheres or ki-blasts, then this could just work...
Shampoo let out a strangled gasp as she was suddenly belted in the face with something very familiar.
And very wet.
*SPLASH*
“Shampoo!” Mousse wailed, rushing over toward her.
She shook her dripping hair, staring down at her drenched clothes with disbelief.
Apparently the clan had tired of playing games.
“Sham—”
*SPLASH*
Mousse stood paralyzed, just a few feet away from a shell-shocked Shampoo. Rivulets of water ran down the curved sides of his glasses, down his nose and cheeks, down his long hair, down his robes. He was staring at his left arm in consternation when his teammates scurried over.
“Mousse—you okay, man?” Ranma demanded.
The Chinese boy mutely lifted his hands for them to inspect. There, just at the back of his wrist, was a gathering of iridescent soap bubbles.
Which meant that the waterproof soap was about ready to wash off.
*SPLASH*
They barely had time to leap out of the way of the next water sphere that was hurled their way. Kodachi squealed as some moisture splattered onto her bare back, just missing her little red leotard.
The eight of them realigned, facing the grim expressions of the Dragon clan with renewed vigor.
“These people don’t give up easy, do they?” Ukyou remarked, careful to lower her voice so that their opponents could not hear over the racket above their heads.
“Apparently not,” Mousse said, copying her precautions.
“Well, that’s strange, considering the way they disappeared when they could’ve killed us all last night,” stated Ryouga.
“Yeah,” agreed Ranma, “but right now I ain’t gonna dwell on that.”
“Well, I think they’re tiring,” Akane pointed out. “I mean, they’re lobbing us with water and ki-blasts. It’s obvious that they’re trying to knock us off as quickly as they can.”
“Truer words hath never been spoken,” Kunou agreed. “I say that we proceed with our strategy forthwith!”
Ranma expelled a deep breath. “I never thought I’d say this,” he murmured, “but I think Kunou’s right.”
“Now is good time to carry out plan,” Shampoo seconded instantly.
“I agree,” Mousse added.
“We do it now, Ranma, or we’re dead,” Ryouga hissed.
“All right.” Ranma assumed a defensive stance. “Go for it.”
* * * * * *
“What’s going on now? What’s going on?” Hiroshi babbled, shoving Daisuke aside to take a better look at the fight.
“Hiroshi my friend, will you kindly shut up long enough for me to find out exactly that?” Daisuke retorted, bopping the other boy smartly on the back of his neck.
Sayuri ignored their antics and peeked down. Her brows knitted together in worry. “You guys, I think they’re getting exhausted.”
“Who wouldn’t be, if they’ve been attacking nonstop for the past twenty or so minutes?” countered Yuka.
“Hey, look.” Hiroshi strained forward, his motif somber. “Ranma and the others’re pulling back.”
“What d’you think they’re doing?” questioned a baffled Sayuri.
“I dunno.” Daisuke licked his lips. “But I think that they’ve got themselves a strategy.”
A tense, anticipatory hum began to ripple through the spectators of Furinkan High.
* * * * * *
“ATATATATATATATATATATATATATA—!”
Tatewaki Kunou cut a wide swath amidst the multitude, swinging his bokken in mad arcs.
His action caught the clan off-guard for a moment—long enough for Mousse to follow up his attack with an explosion of chains and blades that jetted from his hands like torpedoes. Behind him, Shampoo let fly with both bonbori, while Ukyou simultaneously released a healthy storm of spatula shurikens upon their foes.
Their combined assault was enough to gently nudge the clan toward the edge of the main Furinkan High building.
As if on cue, Akane placed herself in between the aggressors and her teammates, instigating an assault of her own as she warded off attacker after attacker with her wooden mallet. Kodachi assisted her from behind, using her ribbon to disable those members at the front of the ranks. Kunou joined Akane in hindering the clan through close-range combat, while Kodachi, Mousse, Shampoo, and Ukyou stood back at a distance and continued to rain an arsenal of assorted weapons upon their enemy—all the while desperately trying to avoid the water and ki that the Shoryuu fired at them with alarming frequency.
They were also desperately trying to distract the clan from Ranma and Ryouga while they proceeded to carry out their part of the plan.
* * * * * *
From his place at the back of his comrades, Shino appraised the opponents’ performance with growing suspicion. It was obvious that these stubborn upperworlders had a plan.
He narrowed his ochroid eyes and concentrated on channeling his aura into an extra-large ball of ki, intending to aim it right at the very back of the Nerima team—where he could just distinguish two figures frozen in their battle stances, apparently engrossed in something Shino could not determine.
But whatever it was, he knew it wasn’t good.
Ceding to a brief mental command from their leader, the clan ceased their attacks without warning and scattered, much to the bafflement of the Nerima team.
Without giving the Jusenkyou-cursed and their allies any time to act on their confusion, Shino closed his eyes and let loose an enormous burst of burning red ki.
And for a second, the light turned everything blood red.
* * * * * *
High above the battlefield, countless pairs of arms lifted up to shield countless pairs of eyes from the crimson glare.
* * * * * *
Dammit, dammit, dammit!
Ranma repeated the curse over and over like a mantra as he dodged some ki-projectiles. Beside him, Ryouga had a similar look of indignant rage plastered over his own features as he used his umbrella to deflect yet another water sphere. In front of them, Ukyou, Shampoo, Kunou, Mousse, Kodachi, and Akane frantically tried to resume their original mission without much success. The clan was now widely distributed, and there was no way Ranma and Ryouga could nail all of them with ki attacks.
The clan had seen through their strategy, and had responded accordingly. They’d figured out that Ranma and Ryouga’s intentions to fire extra-large versions of their respective ki-blasts to finally put the clan out of commission, and the leader had used a ki-blast of his own to throw them off.
Ranma’s supply of energy was finally dwindling. It wouldn’t be long before he was too fatigued to even duck the smallest of ki spears. And, judging from the looks on his teammates’ drawn faces, he knew that they were losing their drives as well.
The clan, infuriatingly enough, showed no sign of slowing down.
We need another plan. Ranma grimaced as he racked his brain for ideas, while simultaneously avoiding the blows of three clan members. A better plan...we need...
“BWEEEEEEEEEE!”
Before Ranma’s stupefied eyes, a colossal white pig bore down on the Dragon clan like some bovine avatar from the skies above, and slammed the multitude into the cement wall of the main building of Furinkan High.
* * * * * *
“Aaaaah! Pig! Piii—!”
Sensei Tanaka’s cries of alarm were drowned out as the classroom floor rocked from the force of the collision. Powder and plaster showered from the ceilings. Aftershocks rippled through the structure, eliciting screams of fright from the pupils populating the various classrooms.
Strangely enough, not one student decided to abandon his vigil by the windows.
* * * * * *
Akane was gawking at the enormous rump of a huge white pig, watching with aghast fascination as the huge curly-cue tail twitched back and forth, then stopped. It had passed out, its front end buried deep into the wall of Furinkan High main building.
Half the clan were staggering to their feet, dazed. The other half stared at the pig.
And they were all congregated into one big tightly-clustered group.
“Now,” she rasped. “Ranma—do it now!”
In one graceful movement, a multitude of hostile eyes were upon her. She felt a flare of panic, which was squashed the moment Ranma’s voice floated out from behind her, soft and soothing.
“You got it, Akane.”
She felt it rather than saw it, and it was with immense relief that she threw herself down to the ground. A heartbeat later Ranma swung his arms forward, hands half clasped, setting free the lethal yellow sphere that danced between his palms.
“MOUKOU TAKABISHA!”
There was no time to duck.
* * * * * *
And high above the battlefield, countless pairs of arms lifted up to shield countless pairs of eyes from the golden glare.
When the explosion occurred a moment later, the students let loose an extra-loud whoop.
* * * * * *
Shampoo blinked.
Was it her imagination, or did those clan members caught in the onslaught of Ranma’s Mouko Takabisha simply vanish into thin air instead of being blown away by the blast?
She must have been seeing things. From what she had witnessed just a few moments ago, that ki-blast Ranma had fired had been his biggest one yet. There was no way that anyone could have possibly escaped from so powerful an attack.
Unless they simply disappeared before the blast could hit them.
Or, Shampoo realized with growing dismay, unless the blast had missed them altogether.
The Dragon clan was still standing—what was left of it, anyway.
Shampoo raked her gaze over them, unable to believe what she was seeing. Those who hadn’t been snared by the ki-blast were on the opposite sides of the trench the Mouko Takabisha had left in its wake, and were edging toward her and the others.
The Chinese Amazon girl backed away, looking around for someone to acknowledge what she’d just seen, but there was no one around her. Instead, her teammates were all gathered around Ranma, oblivious to the fact that they were still being targeted.
“Ohhh, Ranma-darling, are you all right?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Geez, lay off, willya? I ain’t dyin’ or nothin’. Hey, did it work? Those Dragon jerks gone?”
“Shampoo think Ranma should see for himself.”
At her statement, six pairs of eyes looked up at her in surprise, and she silently pointed toward the eighteen or so remaining members of the clan.
“Damn,” Ranma mumbled, more exhausted than furious.
“What—what sorcery is this?” sputtered Kunou.
“I was right—these guys don’t give up easy,” murmured Ukyou.
“Listen, I dunno ’bout you guys,” Akane began reluctantly, “but I don’t know how much more I can take of this.”
“But we have to fight somehow!” Shampoo argued. “We no let them take Ranma!”
“Or you,” Mousse volunteered wearily. “Or me.”
“But we still have to fight!” insisted Shampoo.
They were now standing in their battle stances, their weapons drawn once more, trying to sublimate the tiredness in their muscles. Around them the remaining clan members staggered nearer, obviously still feeling the aftereffects of the previous attack, and the Nerima group gathered together tightly, shielding the ailing pigtailed youth from their view.
Behind them, unseen by their assailants, Akane reached out and touched Ranma’s shoulder encouragingly. “Ranma, is there any way you can do another ki-blast?”
Ranma groaned. “What, right after that doozy of a Mouko Takabisha I just did? Uh-uh. Sorry. Don’t think I’ll be doin’ a ki-blast for a while...”
“I can.”
Ranma whipped around and found himself gazing at the little energy orb that hung suspended between Ryouga’s fingers. Before his eyes, he saw the energy ball expand to roughly seven inches in diameter—larger than any other beginning ki formation he’d ever seen Ryouga manifest.
Ryouga opened his eyes and pinned his teammates with a dark, intense stare. “Get out of the way,” he said.
His voice was magnetic.
All seven of them dived for the ground, and the Dragon troop, their reflexes dulled by the earlier ki-blast, found themselves confronted by the sudden glare of ethereal blue light.
“SHISHI HOUKOUDAN!”
An azure horizontal pillar of raw, unchecked power beamed forth from Ryouga’s hands.
* * * * * *
And high above the battlefield, countless pairs of arms lifted up to shield countless pairs of eyes from the cobalt glare.
Principal Kunou and Sensei Tanaka were unable to suppress their shudders when the explosion shook the building a moment later. True to form, this wasn’t enough to deter the students of Furinkan High from letting loose another effervescent cheer.
* * * * * *
“Wow,” Ukyou remarked softly.
The schoolyard that had served as their battlefield was destroyed—utterly demolished, almost beyond recognition. The once-level earth that rested beneath their feet had been reduced to a vast debris-strewn terrain. Numerous craters of various shapes and sizes marred the ground like oversized pockmarks, and lazy wisps of smoke curled from several tiny fires lacing the charred grass. There were three distinct trenches on the ground, courtesy of the three massive ki-blasts that had been released. Littered throughout were patches of mud from hundreds of water spheres, the remains of dozens of explosions, and evidence of miscellaneous war objects: blades, chains, bandannas, plastic ducks, and porcelain toilets.
And standing amidst the destruction were the eight of them—Ranma, Akane, Ryouga, Shampoo, Mousse, Ukyou, Kunou, and Kodachi. Even Katsunishiki was wobbling to his feet.
While not one member of the Dragon clan was in sight.
They’re gone. They’re all gone, Ukyou thought, nearly sick with relief. Then her breath caught as she heard a rustle. Something was shifting inside one of the trenches. Okay, so I thought too soon.
“Ranma!” Akane exclaimed as she watched him dash recklessly toward the trench and reach into the hollow.
The seven of them hurried over to join him, and their eyes goggled as he hauled a worn, plated-armor figure out of the ditch. The once-proud, shimmering iron plates were now nicked and soiled by battle, and the beautiful gauzy fabric of his clothes was now dulled with dirt. Ranma ripped off the helmet and yanked off the face mask, and for the first time they could all see the entire face of one of their aggressors.
It was a young man, not much older than themselves, with lightly bronzed skin, chiseled features, dark hair tied into a tight thin ponytail, and hypnotic golden-vermillion eyes. The fatigue in his face was evident, but he stared up at them with angry defiance in spite of his clan’s defeat.
Ranma seized him by his shirtfront. “All right, pal, time to spill the beans. What’s this all about, huh?”
The young man sneered at him. “Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
“Don’t play games with me, you bastard. If you didn’t notice what just happened, we kicked your buddies’ butts so bad their grandchildren’re gonna have our shoeprints for birthmarks!”
“You think you defeated us?” The youth raised a skeptical eyebrow. “No. Far from it. Did you think that we gave this fight here was our best effort? No. This was a test—a test to see the limits of your abilities and determine your weaknesses. We have only just begun, upperworlder...”
“You mean...this...not real battle?” demanded Shampoo furiously.
“And what do you mean, ‘you’ve only just begun’?” Akane chimed in.
The stranger cocked his head to one side. “I’m just saying that it is useless to try and prevent the inevitable. Because no matter how hard you fight or how long it takes us, the Dragon clan will catch up to you five. You can be sure of that.”
Ranma, Ryouga, Mousse, and Shampoo exchanged distressed looks. Then as if struck by an idea, Ranma gave the other boy a savage shake. “Wait a minute—your leader said something about a cave—Yasakami—he said something about it being a cure...”
“Do you really want to know, upperworlder?”
Ranma shook him even harder, his fury fueled by the horrific notion that he would be hounded all through his life unless he found a cure. “Just tell me, dammit!”
The boy’s eyes flashed copper fire. “I have a better idea,” he drawled. “Why don’t I just show you...?”
And with that, he fired a conflux of images straight into Ranma Saotome’s brain.
They danced through his mind for no more than a second at a time. Every one clear and vibrant in detail. Devastating in their intensity.
There were images of a road never traveled.
Images of a concealed cavern opening.
Images of an exquisite underground waterfall, surrounded by pools of pure, clear water...
Ranma released his hold on the prisoner and clutched at his head, deaf to everything but the pounding in his brain, willing the images to dissipate even as they seared themselves into his memory.
Meanwhile, across from him, the young man in the Shoryuu armor had taken only a few steps before he collapsed, his body fading into nothingness before he could hit the ground.
* * * * * *
“Ranma? Ranma-honey?”
“Ooooh, Ranma-darling?”
“Airen!”
“Ranma, you jerk, snap outta it!”
Ranma sat up abruptly, wincing as he felt an odd sense of deja vu overtake him.
“He awake!” squealed Shampoo.
Ranma looked up and saw seven faces staring back down at him, displaying emotions that ranged from relief to ardor to disgust to disdain.
“Where’d the guy go?” was Ranma’s first query.
“He disappeared after your little seizure act,” said Ryouga. He was the one with the disdain upon his countenance.
“Quite an unconvincing performance, I must add,” sniffed Kunou. He was the one with the disgust on his face.
Ranma got up quickly, nearly bowling Akane over in the process. “Oh, man...my head...”
“I think you oughta rest for a minute, Ranchan,” Ukyou observed. “You don’t look too well.”
“N-no,” Ranma managed, shaking his head. “I can’t rest now. If I do, I’ll just forget where it is...”
“Huh?” Akane demanded. “Where what is?”
Shaking off his initial sense of lightheadedness, Ranma leaped onto the branch of one of the few trees that had not been decimated by the battle and scaned the hills some distance to the west of Furinkan High.
“The cave,” he said rather absently, not even bothering to glance down at them as he spoke. “The Cave of Yasakami...”
He bounced onto a nearby rooftop and disappeared before Akane could form some sort of retort. She stared after him, her expression warring between helplessness and indignation. “Why...why that—”
Without warning, Ryouga raced past her and performed a similar jump onto the rooftop next to the tree, landing on the shingles with all the aplomb of a cat. “Don’t worry, Akane,” he called down to her reassuringly. “I’ll keep watch over Ranma for you—no matter where he’s going!”
And with those hasty yet ardent parting words, he took off after Ranma.
“Hey, hold on a minute! What makes you think you can track him down if you keep on getting lost?” Ukyou shouted after him.
Unfortunately, Ryouga was already gone and out of earshot.
She fumed. “Stupid jack—”
The next thing she knew she was being shoved aside as Shampoo all but trampled over her in her hurry to accompany her intended. “Ranma! Shampoo follow you always even to ends of earth!”
“W-wait—!” Akane exclaimed, now definitely annoyed as the Chinese Amazon girl mimicked Ranma and Ryouga’s ascent to the roof and vanished. Of course, it wasn’t long before Mousse bounded up the edifice after his beloved, his long sleeves fluttering as he did so.
“Sh-sh-shampoo! Wait for me, Shampoooooo!”
Then he was gone as well.
And standing in the midst of the smoking wasteland were the four who had remained behind—Akane, Ukyou, Kunou, and Kodachi.
The significance of the last forty-eight hours slowly dawned on them, while in the background Principal Kunou and the rest of campus security streaked by, shrieking hysterically, a giant white sumo pig at their heels.
* * * * * *
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