Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction / InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Knight of Shadow ❯ To live… and let others die ( Chapter 2 )

Disclaimer: I don't own Ranma½, The Tale of the Malazan Book of the Fallen, Inu-Yasha... or whatever else there might end up in this fic. That's simple enough, isn't it... ^_^; ...and if it isn't? Well, I could mention that I improved the bear traps with poison coating and upgraded the shotgun into a flamethrower. Good for roasting those slippery buggers, the lawyers that is...

Dialog:"…"

Thoughts: are like this.

Warnings: Blood, death and cheap lives amongst other things... this is around the 1650's(?) after all. Not the 'civilized' age we live in... ^_^;

The Knight of Shadow

Chapter 2 - To live… and let others die

By: Azrael's Wing

For the one formerly known as Ranma Saotome, now known simply as ronin Ranma, the past five years had been educational to say in the least. After all the time his outward appearance was still the same, save for looking few years older, a proof of what Xian had said about her gift being true, but there had been some changes in him trough the years none the less.

The most superficial ones were of course his clothes. As the pass of years had worn down the threads of the ones he had brought with him, he naturally had been forced to get some new ones. Although his style had remained mostly same through the years, the tunics he wore these days were black instead of red. It was an unconscious decision for him it seemed, perhaps reflecting the changes he had gone through in his mind but nonetheless it did seen to fit him.

Also, there was a pair of bracers around his wrists, made of leather and tempered steel that seemed to have seen much of use. They were a tool and a reminder for him at the same time, for as often as he had been forced to use his sword trough the years, he still tried to find a way to solve matters by martial arts. Sadly, there always seemed to be some challenger or a gang of bandits mucking around, forcing him resort to much more drastic methods; namely dismemberment and decapitations

Because of this, his family katana also hung now openly by his side, showing that these years in the past had helped him to discard some of Genma's more foolish beliefs... but not without some harsh lessons. As his right hand touched the hilt of the well used blade, his other hand rose to touch his left cheek, absently fingering a long scar crossing his face.

It was partly hidden beneath his hair, still held in the same pigtail as before in Nerima, but it was none the less prominent feature upon his face. Combined with the stylized tattoo of a horse on the other side of his face, they marked him as who he was. It was something that was slowly but surely becoming more and more widely known in the surrounding country, far more than he'd have preferred it to become.

Ranma's hand followed the ridges on his scarred flesh... starting near the hairline, continuing down his jaw, his fingers stopping just before his throat. The scar was slightly jagged, though already healed, hinting that the nature of its cause had not been that well made blade. Its cheapness however hadn't lessened its deadliness, and had the wound gone even slightly further, he would had likely bled to his death back then, his jugular cut wide open.

It was one reminder for him of the age and era he now lived in, a lesson that he wouldn't soon forget, for this was an age where life didn't have quite same value as where he came from. There were other scars, not as prominent as this one, but this was the first and most important. It was the reminder that he wasn't in Nerima anymore, somewhere where only consequences of the fights had been 'slight' beatings to the ground and LEO flights to the nearest pond.

As he continued walking to the next village down the road, his mind fell back to those days, bringing back memories of the events that had changed him... for the better or worse.

It had been little over a year after his arrival to this age, time he had spent mostly by training and studying what he had brought with him from Nerima. From time to time he would venture to the nearby villages, bartering for whatever he might need with what he had hunted, but most of the time he lived almost like a hermit, simply enjoying the nature and his newfound freedom to the fullest.

It was at that time that he finally got chance open Cologne's treasure box. While traveling, he had found himself near by a large village... large enough for some reason to have its own locksmith shop. Why the man had come to live there, he didn't know, but it was perfect opportunity for him. The box was still unopened due his wariness of the fear of traps there might be, and hopefully this man could be able to open it for him for the right price...

He had gone to the shop, hoping to have some luck at this time, as unlikely that might be. In Nerima he hadn't had that much of lady luck's blessings on him, but perhaps it would change now... or at least he could hope so.

As he entered through the doorway and saw the man, the first thought that crossed his mind was... the old man's a thief. With his own somewhat unfortunate experiences in this area, he could in a way sense it, and see the signs in the man. The nervous look, shifty eyes... the old coot was perhaps on the run from someone, or maybe he was just naturally paranoid. He didn't know, but did it really matter him? As long as the old man did his job, it was one and the same for him. Who was he worry about pasts of others right now?

This man introduced himself as Hachiro, a name that told little to him apart but from the fact that he probably came from far too large family. In exchange, he simply told the man his name and told about the box he had, saying only that it had been an... an inheritance for him. Showing it, he told him to open it with no questions asked, a demand that the old thief seemed to accepted soon enough after he'd shown enough money to him. Together then, they went to the backroom of Hachiro's shop the thief began the job of opening it.

As he had guessed, Cologne had indeed trapped the box, for it was sure to contain Amazon treasures. That is, any treasures that would find themselves in Amazon hands would be their treasures... or that's how it seemed most of the time, listening the old ghoul preach about female and Amazon superiority. None the less, he really hadn't expected what happened after Hachiro managed to get it open...

It took almost an hour for him to do it, as it seemed that Cologne had installed a somewhat modern lock into it at some point; showing that perhaps even the Amazons would get a bright new idea time to time. Like once in millennium. Even so, the man was master thief, or so it seemed, and finally the lid of the box sprang open... delivering death in its wake to its opener.

Cologne must have been more paranoid than he could have ever guessed, arming the box with such a trap. As the lid sprang open, numerous sharp needles flew from their hidden compartments at the man, surprising the old thief completely. Hachiro had barely enough time to exclaim in pain before the poison in the needles did its job, paralyzing his body and shut down his heart, killing him nearly in an instant.

He had barely enough time to blink before all this had already happened, leaving him momentarily frozen besides the dead body. Unfortunately, the ever present `Murphy's Law' was already at work, for at that moment someone else decided to come for a visit. It was a teenage boy of perhaps fourteen years old. Seeing the scene in front of him he reached the first 'logical' conclusion he could; that Ranma was a thief and had killed the old man while trying to rob the place.

Grabbing the nearest weapon he could, a plain knife meant for everyday work from the near by table, the boy charged at him, full of righteous anger at the perceived misdeed. Before Ranma had even had a chance to react to the attack, the boy had already managed to strike his face with the knife, creating a large bleeding gash at its wake.

At that point, he began to see red... literally as well as figuratively. As much as he had hoped for it, it seemed that anywhere he'd go, someone would always find a way to blame him without waiting for explanations. He might have been partly guilty for the old man's death, but even so, this reaction was just far too much for him. In here, just like in Nerima, everyone just seemed to jump into conclusions... and that fanned the flames of his long dormant anger and rage.

For all the peace and quiet of the past year, he had not yet dealt with his emotions about Nerima. A fact that would have grave consequences for him, as now his mind went into an autopilot dealing with the threat, his negative emotions driving his body to act almost on its own.

As soon as his body perceived this new threat, as insignificant it in truth might have been, his actions were fully in progress and treated it like a state of mortal danger. In a blink of an eye his hands and legs had struck out with strength that was greatly out of proportions, breaking limbs of the boy like dry wooden twigs. This was immediately followed be two handed strike to the chest, shattering the boys ribcage and bursting his heart in the process. As the already dead body flew to the wall... and through it, he could only blink at the hole in the wall, barely even comprehending what had just happened.

When the awful truth finally dawned at him, the only thing he could do was to grab the treasure box and flee, cloaking himself with Umi-sen-ken and making his way to the roof. Once there, he got a glimpse of a broken body of the boy lying on the ground, surrounded by an alarmed throng of villagers and someone who seemed to be the boy's mother. Bile rising to his throat, he ran like crazy to the direction of the nearby forest, leaving the mourning villagers behind in their search for the mysterious killer.

Far away from the scene of his crime his legs finally failed, and he finally collapsed to the ground, his stomach heaving at thoughts of what he had done. Finally he just couldn't hold it anymore and retched, emptying his stomach to the forest floor. After minutes of vomiting, his convulsions finally ended but left behind a hauntingly empty feeling, a feeling that that had nothing to do with an empty stomach.

It wasn't until after that he really noticed his wound, the gash still slightly bleeding. His fast healing had closed the wound in part, but not after it had soiled his clothes, decorating his tunic with numerous crimson splotches of blood. Not capable... or even that willing to take care of it, he simply stared his reflection from nearby pond. He absently thought it would scar; a thought that he welcomed at that moment, for then it would at least be some kind of a punishment to him for his deed.

He didn't know how long he spent there, sitting by the water and staring his reflection, but when he eventually got up, it was already becoming dark. Seeing that the night was coming he made a camp with trembling hands. Was it from lack of blood or quilt he didn't know, but somehow it didn't seem to matter. Finished, he fell to his bedroll, tired to the bone and still reeling from the horror of his act in his mind. Finally he fell asleep... still shivering and dressed in his bloodstained clothes, his dreams filled with nightmares and voices of the accusing villagers and a young boy...

For a moment, the memories stayed in his mind, eyes glazing slightly as he dealt with them. Soon enough though Ranma had buried them back where they belonged, his eyes clearing and his face regaining the look he had before this brief moment of remembrance; a bored look of cool disinterest.

In a strange and somewhat sad way, what had happened had been almost useful, for the catharsis that had followed forced him to reign in his newfound negative emotions. It had taken him several weeks to collect himself well enough to venture out of the wood again, his quilt for the deaths of the boy and old man constantly running through his mind, but finally he had done it.

Through self control, meditation and imaginative use of the Soul of Ice, he had examined and dissected those emotions... taking control of them and mastering them instead of letting them run amok in his soul. In the end, he had indeed succeeded, rising like the proverbial phoenix from the ashes of his old life, the bitter irony of it not a bit lost to him.

The death of the phoenix-god had been, in a way, the very beginning of his rebirth, only to have it finished here in the past by the tragedy of his own actions. When he had come to this era, he had still been a boy... no matter how old in years he'd been. By being forced to look deep into himself, as much as it might have sickened him, had forced him to grow beyond what he had been.

He could never fix what he had done, no matter how much he'd try, but he could try to atone... in his own way at least. As much as it sometimes scared him to admit, those two deaths had pushed him beyond certain barrier, making him capable to killing if necessary. Therefore, he sought to put his newfound 'skill' of his to as good use as he could find, protecting those that couldn't protect themselves from the beasts that seemed fill the country after the wars.

He couldn't call himself as a martial artist anymore, but instead of that he'd be a warrior... and there was much need for such. There were thieves and bandits all over the countryside, plaguing the villages and causing trouble to the people. He might not be so good and innocent as he'd once had been but he wouldn't become a force of evil like them either. As he saw it in his mind, that would put him in same level with Genma, something he would never accept.

So, his fists and sword had seen the end of countless of such lowlifes, hopefully saving lives and futures of those that might have been harmed. Even so, with his newfound vigilance he was not perfect... far from it, as another scar, hidden beneath his clothes would tell.

For all of the insights I might have gained, there were some lessons from Genma that were harder to lose than others. Then again, not all the things that had happened in the past were that bad... he thought, once again his thoughts falling back to his memories of the recent years... to an incident little more than year ago.

He had continued traveling as a simple ronin, mostly helping those could and taking on jobs from various local lords in eradicating numerous gangs of bandits that seemed to populate this area.

In his studies of the art, he had learned all that he could from the materials he had brought with him, learning every special technique he could. Most of them he had mastered, though some he could only perform weakly... like some of the Amazon techniques.

He figured it was mostly because he didn't yet have enough chi, something enough time and training would no doubt solve. After all, the old ghoul was centuries old. These years were no doubt both due and adding to her chi reserves. In time though, he should be easily able to match and even surpass the elder's reserves, thus making this problem somewhat a moot point.

It was mostly because of this that he was searching someone to teach him the art of sword fighting. He had the Saotome honor blade with him after all; it wouldn't hurt to learn that art as well. He had always been somewhat interested of weapons, no matter what Genma had preached, and perhaps it would help with his mother as well once he'd get back in his own time...

This in mind, he had sought to find a sensei to teach him, but had little success. It seemed as if none of the masters seemed to appreciate homeless ronin, thus depriving him knowledge he sought. It went like that for a long time until he met a man on the road, harried by a pair of thieves. Seeing that the man was armed, he decided to stand by and just watch, figuring that if the man couldn't defend him he'd jump in, but for now he'd just see how he would do against these two.

Because he wasn't near enough, he couldn't hear what the man had said in response to their demands, but from the way the thieves were brandishing their weapons it probably wasn't anything flattering, probably something to do with their ancestry or various sexual habits. Not soon after, they charged at the man, clearly intent on removing him of his possessions, and most likely his life as well.

At this point he was prepared to intervene, as the man didn't seem to be defending himself. However, this presumption proved soon to be false, as he saw a bright flash and heard the familiar sound of drawn steel. The draw had been so fast that he had almost missed it, but the effects of it were there to be seen by all in their gruesome detail.

One of the thieves was lying on the ground, his intestines leaking to the ground through an open wound to his gut. The more 'luckier' one of them was simply missing his left hand, the bloody stump gushing his bodily fluids all over him and his companion. In his horror, the thief tried to make a run for it, running as fast as he could away from the deadly swordsman. The man in question didn't seem to care though, and for a good reason, for the mutilated thief soon fell to the ground, due a shock, blood loss or perhaps both... he didn't know but it didn't really matter.

Turning his attention away from the dead or dying bandits, he turned it instead to the source of their discomfort.

The swordsman was somewhat older than he himself it seemed, perhaps in his late twenties, dressed in an outfit that slightly resembled him of Kuno's, his long black hair falling straight to his shoulders. There were some old scars on him, in hands and face, but nothing as serious as his own... but none the less, the man radiated silent sense of danger that was quite fitting due his recent actions.

It was clear that the man knew he was there, his form still taunt and prepared for action, but seeing that Ranma wasn't acting hostile towards him he finally relaxed slightly. In fact, it seemed that that the man had recognized him in someway, but how he had no idea.

"Greetings stranger," the said began warily, perhaps still slightly uncertain of his intentions concerning him.

"Greetings to you as well... I wondered if you need some help with dealing with this thrash," he gestured as the corpses near by, "But it seems that my worries were unfounded. You're quite skilled with your weapon..." he said to him, hoping for the man to name himself.

Relieved by Ranma's neutral response, the man relaxed slightly and even smiled a bit at his compliments. "Sorry about that, one can't just be too careful these days," the man said and then continued, "I'm just a simple swordsman, a ronin if you will and I'm called Tatewaki..."

At that point Ranma gave an involuntary shiver, the name and outfit bringing back certain memories from Nerima. Tatewaki noticed this and paused to question Ranma.

"Perhaps you've heard of me then..." he asked, eyes clouded by some emotion Ranma couldn't recognize at the moment.

"No, you simply reminded me of another man, in different time and place, that's all. ...You wouldn't happen to know of a family known as Kuno's though?" he replied, still wondering about this strange coincident.

"I do remember of hearing of a noble family of that name, though I assure you, I have nothing to do with them," Tatewaki answered, relaxing a bit more for some reason. "Anyway, as I was saying, I am known as Tatewaki and I think I guess what your name is stranger," Tatewaki said with an appraising look.

"Oh, how is that? I really don't think we've met before…"

"Hah, it seems that you don't know how famous... or infamous you really are. It's quite well known in these parts that there's a slayer of bandits with a scar and tattoo on his face, just like you seem to have. In fact, they say that the tattoo is in a shape of a horse, and curiously yours seems to be one." Tatewaki said smirking, and then asked, "So tell me, are you the 'Demon' Ranma, ronin that kills more often with his fists than with the sword he carries?

"What! 'Demon' Ranma!? What in the hell..." he blurted out, making Tatewaki chuckle in amusement.

"Oh my, it really seems that you haven't been following the village gossip in your travels. Don't worry; I'll bring you up to date... We crazy ronins must stick together, right?" Tatewaki said with a faint smile, leading undignified and spluttering Ranma away from the corpses, setting a camp next to nearby woods...

He smiled briefly at the memory, remembering fondly the time he had spent with the swordsman...

It had been beginning of his first friendship ever since he had arrived to this era, something that he in all of his self-reliance had missed. Unlike those in Nerima, those that he had wanted to called his friends... Ryoga, Ukyo, perhaps even Kasumi in a way, Tatewaki had no vendettas or ulterior motives towards him. Back in Nerima, they all had their own demands and blind spots, and as much as he had wanted to call them as his friends, by hindsight they hadn't really such that much.

Indeed, this encounter had been one of the best things that had happened to him in his 'past'. Even though it had led him to re-think some things concerning himself and his curse, something that he was somewhat uncertain of, he wouldn't trade those memories away for no price.

Once Tatewaki had made his camp, he had already calmed and was back being curious about the swordsman, curiosity that was shared to both ways it seemed. From what he gathered from him, Tatewaki had a somewhat shady past, being a former retainer of a now fallen lord, and seemed to on run from someone. It didn't really matter to him though, due his own past and the events following his appearance here he was quite familiar with the situation. As far as he cared for now, Tatewaki was a friendly companion on the road, possibly even a friend... and that was rare enough for him.

In response to the questions Tatewaki asked his own about him, curious of his adventures and the truth about rumors about him. He told him most of which had happened once he arrived, including even the story about how he got his scar, for some reason feeling that Tatewaki wouldn't judge him for what had happened.

By now the memory had become almost just a scar of its own, but he was none the less gratified of the understanding look in Tatewaki's face and eyes once having heard the story. It seemed he wasn't the only one here with traumatic events in the past, a sad fact that seemed strangely comforting at the moment...

And so the time passed comfortably around the campfire, two of them exchanging tales of past adventures. During these talks he tentatively asked of Tatewaki could he train him in the use of the sword, having previously told him of how he used mainly his martial arts in combat. Tatewaki was silent for a while after that, thinking the question for moment or two before answering. Eventually he had agreed, stating that, "If they'd travel together he might as well teach him, if in exchange Ranma would teach him unarmed combat."

He really didn't have any objections to that, and said so as well, cementing the deal with his newfound friend. Then, as he reached for his cup and was prepared to take a sip from it, Tatewaki dropped a question to him, opening eventually quite a few new things to them.

"Oh by the way, you wouldn't happen to have a sister would you? It's just that I've heard of a redheaded girl that travels in similar clothes to yours, she's even supposed have a tattoo just like yours. I've heard that she's quite a looker too... I don't think I'd mind bedding her," Tatewaki finished jokingly, thus causing him to spill his drink over himself... or herself as it now unfortunately was.

Taking a double, and then a triple look of the redhead in front of him, Tatewaki was understandingly speechless at the sight. After gaining some amount of his composure back, he started to question Ranma about this strange change, "How in the..." only to be interrupted by Ranma.

"A curse," he spat out tersely, clearly irritated about the situation he was in.

"A curse?" Tatewaki repeated after her, still quite shell-shocked by the sudden change he'd seen.

Blowing his now red bangs away from his eyes, Ranma tiredly proceeded to give his companion the short and edited version of the facts behind his aqua-sexual nature.

"It's a Chinese curse, from a training grounds called Jyusenko. My... father took me there, being stupid enough to go there without knowing any Chinese. Lots of springs, each with its own of so tragic curse, and I just happened to drop into the pool of the drowned girl..."

At this point Tatewaki interrupted him with a question. "...but how do you change then? And why did you change just now?" he asked, still somewhat puzzled by this strange turn of events.

"It's the water... cold changes me into girl, warm back to a guy," he said, getting some more water into her cup and warming it up with his chi. //At least this way I can always have warm water when needed. Best way I got to control the curse so far, which isn't saying much really...// He thought bitterly before dumping the warmed up water on her head.

After shocked Tatewaki had witnessed the reversed change, he continued. "And as for why? Hell, after that comment of yours, what would you expect moron?" he finished, sarcasm dripping from his every word.

"Err... Right, sorry about that," Tatewaki said sheepishly, apologizing and giving a weak bark of laughter.

"Nah, forget it. It isn't really that bad, not anymore at least. I've grown used to my 'girl' side; it's just the sudden changes that give me the grief. Even with my water warming trick here, I can't stop it being a pain in the ass," Ranma said unhappily. "Anyway, let's get some sleep. It's getting dark and we probably have a long day tomorrow. We're going to teach each other while we travel, remember?" he finished, falling to his bedroll and asleep at almost same moment, thus showing a clear example of his extraordinary sleeping capabilities in action.

It had definitely led into some ideas that he hadn't expected, he mused as the memories replayed in his mind. Any kind of thoughts about a sexual relationship with a man had been as far from his mind as possible back then, not that he really had been that innocent. Genma had been sure to take care of that, make no doubt about it.

One does certainly get a crash course in human biology when taken to some of best whorehouses in around the world. Genma had always been greedy, but didn't mean he didn't know how to use his money well. Indeed, they had been very educational times for a fourteen year old boy.

That however didn't prepare him for that night that followed, back then when memories of that sin he'd committed came to haunt him…

So, they traveled together, training each other and killing some imbecilic bandits on the way, and found out that they got along pretty well. A nice surprise for both of them, as neither of them had many friends. Finding like minded individual to travel with was a stroke of luck for both of them, and something they had sorely needed.

These happy times couldn't last forever though, and as they passed through a small village, out of blue he ran into a scene that reminded him of certain deeply buried event. The was funeral going on, some old man having finally died because of age or something, and there was group of mourners nearby, following the event with their sad teary eyes. Otherwise it might have passed by his notice without any greater reaction, were not for one of the mourners...

A young boy, almost dead ringer for the one he had blasted through the wall back then. Even though he had sought to deal with the event, it had been something to leave a deep mark... or a scar on his soul, and something about that sight brought up that memory, disturbing him deeply.

They had left that village quickly then, not even pausing for food or drink as usual. He hadn't told Tatewaki what was wrong, though he suspected that the man already knew, remembering their exchange of stories in the camp back when they first met.

Even so, he didn't stop to talk with him, but instead chose to continue traveling onwards to the next village on the road, his gloomy mood quite apparent to his companion. Unfortunately for them, the next village wasn't really that close, forcing them to camp outside as usual. The mood at the fire was a somber one that night, neither of them speaking much as they ate. He was deeply engrossed with his depressing memories and Tatewaki chose to respect his privacy. In the end, they had both went soon to sleep, he with the heavy thoughts plaguing his mind.

In his dreams he was haunted by the memories of that day, the old man and the boy blaming him for their deaths with renewed vigor. It didn't help that what those dreams said was quite justified, for their fates were indeed his fault, in one way or another. Finally he was been shaken awake by Tatewaki, his whimpers and thrashing having apparently woken up his friend.

As he gradually woke up, he noticed that it had begun to rain during the night, his cursed female form a clear proof of the water's effect on... her. At that moment though, the possible discomfort of the curse was furthest thing from his head, his mind still reeling with the nightmarish images of her dream. Seeing the concerned face of her friend hovering above her, she hugged him tightly, not caring about the state of her clothing or gender at that moment.

Sobbing to into Tatewaki's shirt, she began to feel strange feelings in herself. They were feelings that even she could recognize with her limited experience in such matters. That realization had at the same time shocked and frightened him, but somehow it also intrigued as well. It was a situation unheard of for, something that could never have happened in Nerima.

That someone would take time to comfort him in a situation such as this?! It would have been impossible with Genma's and Nodoka's views of `manliness' disdaining such things, and all the girls chasing him and rest of the Nerima, or for that matter the world, trying to defeat or even to kill him would have made such situation an outright impossibility.

But whatever these newfound emotions of his were, something suppressed in his mind or simply a fluke born of random hormones, it would be something that he'd have to find out himself on his journey through time and space. Even so, now there wouldn't be anyone to prevent him thinking such thoughts.

This however brought him back to the very thought that had started his current chain of thought, the teachings of Genma concerning women and about women. His belief that women were inferior, incapable of becoming fighters and not to be harmed physically… The last one perhaps a strange form of pity for it didn't seem to fit into Genma's otherwise almost subhuman profile. Nonetheless, it would be a lesson he'd happily forget, and the reminder for why would always be found on his back, reminding him…

They had traveled together for few months doing what they were good at, mainly killing bandits and acting as bodyguards for some minor nobles. Eventually though, they came across a village, strangely deserted and seemingly devoid of life. Even so, something just didn't seem right at the place. It seemed to be in far too good condition to be an abandoned village, the buildings too sturdy and the road too well traveled. Unfortunately it was also in their direct path, making avoiding it more than slightly troublesome, and so they had no other choice but to go through it.

It wasn't until they were almost halfway through that the true nature of the village came apparent, for suddenly they were ambushed by a large group of villagers dressed in rags, armed with knives and farming tools. They looked half famished, their faces worn by desperation. It seemed that as the village had fallen into truly hard times, and the inhabitants that had remained had chosen an alternative way to gain their living… banditry through ambushing unwary travelers.

It was clear from the beginning that the villagers wouldn't listen for reason, their desperate attitude making that more than clear. There wasn't time to think as the mob came at them, creepily silent for all their deadly intent. At that point they really had no other choice but to defend themselves by any means they could, and in this case there wasn't a non-lethal option.

Forced to use the skills he'd learned from Tatewaki during the months they'd traveled together, he carved a bloody path through them, his progress mirrored by his companion besides him. Finally they reached the other side of the village, a trail of butchered villagers following behind and crimson coat of paint covering their arms.

Growing tired to this senseless slaughter, he suddenly sensed a presence behind him and turned around, the bloodied katana still in his hand. What greeted him was a sight he didn't expect, that of a middle aged woman, a housewife in this era no doubt. Not seeing any weapon in her hands and tired of killing, he simply turned his back to the woman, perhaps some last vestiges of Genma's teachings about women still clouding his mind.

No matter what the reason, he soon found out the hard way it wasn't a sound decision from his part. This was pointed out to him by a simple and plain dagger, its blade buried deep in his back. Shocked by the sudden attack his arm moved almost by instinct, and the katana in his hand soon separated the enraged woman's head from her shoulders. As the headless body… and the head fell to the ground, so did he begin to fall as well, only to be caught by his comrade in arms. As the shock and blood loss eventually began to take their toll, and as his mind began its fall into the abyss, he wordlessly cursed Genma for all the troubles he managed to cause, even centuries before the bastard had managed to be born…

It had perhaps been the last real trial he had to pass before being free of Genma and his ways of thinking. After a week of the slow healing and coughing blood every other time he opened his mouth, he for sure wasn't going to turn his back for anyone; be it a man, woman, child or some kami… especially if it was a kami. With his luck, even though he might be in good standings with one right now, there would no doubt be countless others like Saffron ready to go after him for some reason or another. It seemed that troubles were in his blood, one way or another.

After managing to heal himself with Tatewaki's help, they had traveled little more but eventually their paths had gone to different directions. Tatewaki had heard something regarding to his own past, something to do with the reason why he was a ronin in the first place, and wanted to take care of it by himself. As much as he would have liked to go and help him, Ranma respected his friend's wishes and they said their goodbyes, promising to see each other as soon as they could.

After that he had simply traveled from place to place, no specific destination in mind. For a long time, for him at least, there hadn't been any big adventures or great upheavals in his life. It was something almost unheard of in his life… and something that made him quite weary lately. After all, who knew when the troubles would raise their ugly head once again?

Oh well, whatever comes will come, whether I'd like or not, so it doesn't matter that much anyway. After all, Ranma Saotome doesn't lose or quit, and that's one thing that hasn't changed in these years, no matter how much I might have changed otherwise. Heh, the things are just getting started and still have more than three and a half centuries of life left here in the past. Who knows what will happen in that time…

Why did I ever come to this place? Ranma thought with slight irritation as he walked through not-so crowded village road, his eyes scanning for any possible threats nearby. These thoughts and actions were understandable, for the village he was visiting wasn't exactly the cleanest or most law abiding place found in Japan of this era, far from it.

Its streets were riddled with beggars and whores, characters of shady nature filled its alleys and doorways, and general lawlessness was abundant. It was a place that, for some reason, reminded him greatly of his so-called father and the ten year training trip he had suffered with him. This was no doubt partly the reason why people seemed to avoid him at the moment. He seemed to be quite infamous these days, and murderous expression on his face wasn't that inviting for casual conversation… or for any other lind of business for that matter, and for that he was grateful.

Then again, it's just my luck to find this hive of Yakuza wannabes, when only looking for a place to sleep in my travels. It's almost like a fate to me, that I'll always end up in places that I hate, or places where people hate me. Heh, at least there's no confusion about this place… I definitely hate this putrid little sinkhole, he thought as he fended off yet another beggar, an action that brought forth a fresh stream of curses from the young preteen boy in question. …hmm, that's a new one. Well, at least that encounter was someway useful, if only for its educational value.

Eventually, as the evening slowly turned into night he, found a building claiming to be an inn or a hostel of some sort… even though its appearance didn't give much hope for its interior, or even less for any class. Slipping inside the building, he spotted a seedy looking innkeeper and gave him enough money for couple of days, an act that made the innkeepers eyes light up greedily. The man accepted the money without further comments, giving only a slight nod to him as he headed upstairs to his futon.

Finally having gained some peace and quiet, he lied down to it for his long denied rest, not noticing the speculative look in the innkeeper's eyes as he watched him. As the fatigue finally took its toll, he finally fell asleep; not noticing the innkeeper slipping past him and into the night.

Out of the building, the man headed towards perhaps the single well built building in the whole village… or well built in comparison with rest of the village at least. Walking to its backdoor, he knocked thrice at the surprisingly sturdy door, informing its residents of his arrival. After few seconds the door opened, letting him to slip in into a meeting with the unspoken lord and master of this village.

In a room guarded by numerous nasty looking thugs sat a man, a man that no one in the village dared to cross. Though not large in statue, this man nonetheless radiated a presence around him, and his eyes were those of a predator. Dressed just in a plain black kimono, he had nonetheless has the mannerisms of a lord… and why not, for he was the lord of this village all but in name. And for one to become the king rat in a place such as this, one couldn't but help to have quite a few daggers buried in peoples backs and bodies buried and hidden. There was a very good reason why the innkeeper prostrated on his knees before this man, addressing him with the most respectful tone he could muster…

"Greetings Saionji-sama, I've come to you with news I hope you'll find worth your time."

"Indeed? Tell me then, what are these so important news I must hear?"

"Well, you see… It seems that we have quite an illustrious visitor in our humble village tonight, a ronin whose name and fame… or shall we say infamy have reached far and wide. This famous visitor of ours is none other than the `Demon' Ranma…"

"The Demon?! The ronin who is rumored to have slain entire bands of men all by himself and many of them even barehanded… he is here?"

"The very same, and yes… He's sleeping in my inn at this very moment."

"…I assume you have deduced that he's not after any of us then?"

"No, he seems to be just passing through, apparently not very pleased of our village in general."

"Well then, this is then an opportunity for us… which we can use in couple ways it seems. We could try killing him, but success for such venture might not be so certain. He is after all quite famous for his skills, isn't he? No, I think there's a way we can handle things so that we'll win either way…"

"What do mean?

"You do remember our village's little problem, do you not? The troublesome beast that lives in that nearby cave? Its bloody rages have been a bane to us for a long time, and I'd like to finally get rid of it. If our visitor could handle it, so be it, but if not… that would be equally fine with me."

"But what should I offer…"

"Here you go, that should be enough for our ronin to take the job," said Saionji, throwing heavy bag of money at the man. "I doubt even someone such as him is immune to money, and that should be enough to persuade him to take the job you're going to offer him."

"Very well, I'll do as you say my lord."

"Do give all of it to him. If he does manage to defeat our beast, he certainly has earned it, and if not… Well, you can keep it then. You can't anger a dead man after all…"

"Yes, my lord…" the innkeeper said glumly. He hated to loose an opportunity like this, but he wouldn't go against Saionji's wishes. There were far better ways to commit suicide, much less painful as well.

Taking Saionji's indulgent wave of hand as dismissal, he bowed deeply at the man before leaving the room, happy to have survived through his encounter his skin intact…

If there was such a thing as danger sense of any sort, Ranma would have developed it. For all his troubles in past and present, good instincts about any troubles coming his way would have been a necessity for any hope of survival or sanity. Therefore, as Ranma woke up from his troubled sleep, he could immediately sense that something was going on, something that didn't promise anything good for him by a long shot.

Rising warily from his futon, he made his way down to the innkeeper to check out of the place, his heightened senses screaming danger all the way. When he finally reached the man, he almost expected the innkeeper to scream bloody murder and go at his throat, only to be offered a large amount of money for taking care of some `beast'.

The thing was, he could sense that the man wasn't lying. However, he doubted it was the full truth either. There was something inherently distrustful in that man, but he just couldn't put his finger to it. Then again, he was in dire need of traveling money, and this job couldn't really be that hard, now could it?

"So, where does this thing live?" he finally asked from the man, still a bit undecided on the matter, and his suspicions balanced against the weighty bag of money in his hand.

"It lives in a nearby cave, coming out of it only in the nighttime. We would have done it ourselves, but we might have some heavy casualties doing that. You really can't blame us from being cautious, can you?" the innkeeper finished saying, an insincere looking smile fixed upon his face.

"No, I guess not… Fine, I'll take the job. Just show me where to go, and I'll take care of it. As soon as it's done, I can get out of here…"

"Just follow me," the innkeeper said stepping out of the building, beckoning Ranma to follow after him.

"…I've got a bad feeling about this," Ranma muttered, trailing after the man. Unfortunately, he had no idea how right his instincts were…

Following his guide through numerous on twisted paths he somehow seemed to know, they descended deep into the nearby woods. This trip continued for quite a while, his goal seemingly located in the centre of this small little forest. Suddenly the man stopped, halting their progress.

"Sorry, but I really have no interest in risking myself and going near that thing. This is as far as I'll go. The cave is just little bit further into that grove, and you can prove your deed simply by bringing its head back to me in the village," the man said and then turned around, speedily disappearing though the way they came.

Ranma barely had enough time to blink before he was gone, leaving him alone in the middle of the forest. "Hmph, not so ordinary beast it seems, if can inspire that kind of dread. Oh well, it's not as if he'd been much of a use in a real fight anyway."

Now alone, Ranma continued toward his goal, soon noticing it shade of some huge trees. A mound surrounded be numerous trees, its entrance was framed by several huge boulders, forming a primitive arch of sorts. These made it look almost manmade, giving it somewhat unsettling appearance.

Dismissing these thoughts from his mind, he approached the entrance warily with his katana ready at hand. It was dark there… and he felt something. It was a feeling that he should leave and not return, preferably having done yesterday. It was too bad these thoughts seemed to come a bit too late, namely today, and the only thing that seemed to fit his mind when ended up staring into pair of glowing yellow eyes was; "Oh shit, I really should have staid in bed…" before everything went red…

TBC…?

Author notes: At the moment, I have ideas for three crossovers to happen in that time, all of them probably quite long. ^_^ Even though there will be hints of the Inu-Yasha cross in this chapter, they won't become a major part plot until later on, right now I've got other things(and crossovers) in mind. ^_^;

Other things... Those that might have read my other fic(s), in this case 'Circle of Blood' in particular, might have noticed that I have a tendency to write Yaoi/Yuri into my works. As you can see, hints of that have indeed slipped in here as well... ^_^; Even so, figuring that readers of Ranma fics might have less fans for such material (than fans of Weiss that is), I'll try to keep the Yaoi content of this fic in minimum (or at least try…) In fact, as far as I can see, this is all that there will be for a loooong time. Be happy about it... or not. Things may change depending on my mood.

-Azrael's Wing

Author notes mk2: Concerning comments about Ranma and his sexuality (some even quite rabid… ^_^;), I've modified this chapter when dealing with yaoi themes (or whatever). This doesn't mean that they won't reappear in the future, though it may be so. Even though I apparently tend to write yaoi and yuri (at least so far), I'm not exactly a romance writer. It's the plot that matters, and if there happens to be aforementioned paring type in the fic? Well, who knows? That's yet to be seen…

"Distrust all in whom the urge to punish is powerful"

- Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche, "Thus Spake Zarathustra"

"In the name of the moon I will punish you!"

- Sailor Moon, "any episode"

"Yes, O Munificent and Gorged Leader of the Unenlightened and I thank you for your time. For a ruthless carnivore you are not too unintelligent."

- ???