Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Hearts of Ice ❯ Memories of the Past ( Chapter 16 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

The characters of the Ranma 1/2 universe are the sole creation
and possession of the brilliant Rumiko Takahashi.
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Hearts of Ice
Part 16: Memories of the Past
by Krista Perry
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It was snowing.

Ranma shivered, looked around blearily, feeling strangely
weak.

Snow covered the ground as far as he could see; light flakes
drifted lazily from the clouded night sky. The tiny, shimmering
crystals stung the skin of his face and hands with pricks of
biting cold.

*Jeeze... I can barely move... What's wrong with me..?*

A wave of exhaustion swept over him, and his legs threatened
to buckle beneath him. He stumbled forward a step, leaving a
deep dragging track in snow that almost came up to his knees, but
he remained standing.

He was so cold...

"Where am I?" he asked no one, his voice small and lost in
the vast snowy wasteland. The wind answered, soft, wailing...

Ranma...

He turned at the voiceless sound of his name to see the Snow
Woman, tall and white, a cruel smile on her bloodless face. And
standing in front of her was Akane, wearing her school uniform,
looking at him blankly.

"Akane!" He tried to move, but his legs felt so heavy
that he couldn't lift them... and he was so cold...

Akane's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "Do I know you?"

"Akane!" His voice was thick with despair. He reached out
to her with shaking arms. "It's me... please, you have to
remember. It's just the Kami Plane making you forget!" He
glanced between her and the Snow Woman. "You don't belong with
her, Akane, she's a demon! Please, come back to me..."

Akane shrank away from him, clinging to the Snow Woman's
frost blue robes.

"Your... love... is not the binding link you thought it
was," said the Snow Woman softly, smiling at him. And, as she
reached out with a slender white finger to touch him in the
center of his forehead, he found he could not move to stop her...

A cold, watery chill rippled over the surface of his skin.
And he felt himself change. He looked down at himself, at his
woman's body, in horror. "What..!"

His head snapped up fearfully to see Akane's own brown eyes
widening at the sight of his transformed body, only to narrow a
moment later, her nose wrinkling in aversion. "Ughh," she said.
"A pervert."

Ranma's heart shriveled within his chest. "No... Akane,"
he pleaded, his mezzo-soprano voice grating in his ears. "I'm
not..."

"Jerk. Insensitive pervert," she said.

Ranma trembled.

The Snow Woman laughed. "Take it slow," she said, soft and
sultry. "We don't want to put him out of his misery too soon."

A soft, purring chuckle echoed in his head, and Ranma
jerked, his throat going dry, his eyes wide and staring.

*No, oh no, please, not again, anything but...*

Ranma pressed himself into the corner of his room, next to
the dresser. The stinging snowflakes were shivering pieces of
glass, a shattering light bulb plunging him into darkness...

The demon's huge cat eyes were opaque yellow orbs glinting
in the dark as it slunk closer. **Ah, you remember me. I'm
flattered. You're my favorite, you know...**

Ranma whimpered. Something inside him, something that had
been there since he was ten years old, awoke and began crawling
up from the blackest depths of his soul. Ranma felt himself
falling, falling inside himself, as the feline thing within him
rose to the surface. He was falling...

...to his hands and knees, unable to stand upright...

*...Oh please, help me, somebody...*

...was running, running on all fours, driven by fear, unable
to stop himself...

...opened his mouth to scream, to cry for help, but all that
came out was a terrified yowling...

Ranma felt warm tears well up, turning cold as they touched
his skin, streaking down his girl's face as he ran...

*Please... somebody, help me..!*

"It's okay, Ranma."

And he turned, wrapping his paws protectively around his
half-eaten fish, to see a strange bird-man, black eyes glittering
above an expressionless beak. "You know me, deep down. You know
I'm a friend. I've helped you before, and I'm here to help you
now."

Ranma stood on four legs, looking up at the tengu through
red bangs, feeling the blank animal expression on his own female
face. *Yes, please... please help me, I don't like this at all, I
can't
think...*

But, as the tengu stepped towards him, five gaping, bleeding
wounds opened up in the creature's feathered chest. The tengu
looked down at himself for a moment, almost surprised, then
collapsed lifelessly onto the forest grass...

Ranma could smell the blood, could feel the ravenous hunger
it stirred within him, glazing his mind, even as he silently
screamed...

A demon laughing...

"Ranma..?" Ryoga looked at him, disbelief and horror
flickering across his face.

*...Ryoga...* Ranma turned, nose twitching as he caught the
scent of food in the lost boy's pack. *...please help me, I
can't think, I...*

"C'mere, Ranma." Ryoga was kneeling down, beckoning to him.
"C'mere, kitty kitty..."

And Ranma felt himself respond to the incomprehensible
chattering, like the feline animal he was. He chewed ravenously
on the strip of meat snatched from Ryoga's hand. And the
smothered, nearly non-existent spark of his human consciousness
knew, and felt it all. And wanted to die...

Cologne, the shriveled old ghoul, sat on a neighboring
rooftop, cackling silently in the shadows, her narrowed eyes
staring down at him...

...kitty kitty kitty...

**Poor Ranma.** The Shadowcat's voice, in his head,
condescendingly mocking. **You're a good kitty, aren't you? Yes
you are...**

*Akane..!* Ranma opened his mouth to call her, but he was
meowing, the words wouldn't come, he couldn't remember... Just
meowing over and over... *Oh, please, Akane, please come
back, I need you... I've lost myself, I can't think...*

A whispering, scratching away in the deep recesses of his
mind. Growing louder. *You'll never see her again, you're
doomed to fail, you already have, you should give up you'll never
see her again you're doomed to fail you already haveyoushould
giveupyou'llneverseeheragainyou'redoomedtofailyoualreadyh ave...*

*****

Ranma gasped as his eyes snapped open, his heart thudding
hard in his chest, the spell voices echoing loudly in his mind...

Ceiling. He was looking at the ceiling of his room.

A dream...
*Oh jeeze...* Ranma squeezed his eyes shut and slowly,
painfully pushed the spell voices from the forefront of his mind.
His mouth was dry, he was shaking, drenched in cold sweat... no,
more than cold... Icy...

Turning his head slightly, he opened his eyes and blinked,
trying to focus on the reality around him, to shake off the
nightmare... Dim, early-morning light seeped through the drawn
shades over the window. He could see boards and plywood covering
the hole that he blasted in the wall of his room while trying to
take out the Snow Woman last night...

*Not last night. Days ago. Ages ago. I remember...*

"Ranchan?"

Ranma startled slightly, only then realizing that someone
was in the room with him. Ukyo leaned over him, her weary
expression twisting with a mixture of relief, concern, and...
fear. "Are... you okay?"

Ranma groaned and, as he carefully pushed himself into a
sitting position, he realized with dismay that he was not a "he"
at all.

*But then, I already knew that...* he thought dismally.

He rubbed his face with his delicate, bandaged hands, wiping
away the icy sweat that clung to his skin. Ukyo watched him in
silence.

"What... what happened?" he asked finally. The last thing
he remembered was regaining consciousness... Ukyo sweeping him up
in a crushing hug... the overwhelming desire to stand up... to
walk on two legs like a m... like a human being... to leave
immediately for China to break the blood spell and save Akane...

"Doctor Tofu hit your sleep points." Ukyo's voice was soft,
and strangely thick. "You've been asleep for nearly ten hours.
You..." *You nearly died, Ranchan, I was so afraid, I thought
I'd lost you...*

...lost you...

Ukyo swallowed, fighting back wetness building in her eyes.
She couldn't think of that now. Ranma needed her. "You... were
so drained of ki, you needed time to recover, but you kept trying
to stand up..." *...and you were going on and on about breaking
the blood spell and saving Akane...* "...and I... we... were
afraid that you would hurt yourself because we weren't sure..."

She trailed off as Ranma turned to look at her, his red
bangs sticking to his damp forehead, his haunted blue eyes
looking at her from his girl's face...

His eyes were haunted, yes. But... at least she could see
*him* in those eyes, and not the vacuously innocent feline that
had peered at her from those same eyes for the past eight days...

Ranma was back. It didn't even matter to her that he was a
girl at the moment, that his eyes were framed by a sweetly
delicate female face, so similar to, yet so different from
Ranma's handsome, strong male features that made her heart
flutter inside her chest. She looked into his blue eyes, the
windows to his soul, the only part of him that didn't change with
his transformation, and knew that Ranma's mind was finally
restored, even if his body wasn't...

As if thinking the same thing, Ranma looked down at himself,
at his female body. He blinked in numb horror, as if noticing
his curse for the first time. Soft, well-proportioned curves and
petite frame under his tank top and boxers... creamy, flawless
skin... His cursed form was voluptuously female in every sense
of the word. Not a trace of masculinity to be found in it.

Except in the eyes. The haunted flickering in his blue eyes
would tell anyone who cared to look deep enough, as Ukyo did,
that Ranma's cursed form was as alien to him as it might have
been had he fallen into the Spring of Drowned Piglet, the Spring
of Drowned Duck... or the Spring of Drowned Cat...

A tremor passed through Ranma's slender, shivering body.
"Oh man," he whispered, almost silently. And Ukyo realized at
that moment that Ranma somehow knew he was stuck in cursed form.
She wanted to reach out and comfort him, tell him it didn't
matter, that she knew he was a guy, no matter what...

"Are you... okay?" she asked again.

"Ucchan," he replied hoarsely, and his eyes lost focus as he
seemed to stare right past her. "I... remember everything."

Ukyo looked at him, uncomprehending for a moment. Then her
face went white as she suddenly understood the full meaning of
the tormented expression on his face. "Oh, Ranchan. I... You
mean you remember being... you remember the Nekoken?"

Ranma nodded slowly, shuddering, and rubbed his face with
his bandaged hands again, as if he could rub away the memories.
"Oh man..." he whispered.

And Ukyo felt her heart contract in painful empathy. Ranma
was so proud, so driven by honor, so fiercely protective of his
masculinity... For him to remember the humiliation of his
existence the past eight days, with both his mind and body so
changed...

*But then, that means... he must remember that I stayed with
him...*

Ukyo blinked, thinking of the time she spent, staying by
Ranma's side, taking care of him, searching desperately for some
sign of the man she loved in his feline mind, hoping against hope
that she could coax his humanity back to the surface the way
Genma said the old woman had done when he was a child. After
all, wasn't she his fiancee?

But his feline mind had not been focused on her.

Ranma had spent almost every waking moment in Akane's room.
And Ukyo had stayed with him, taking care of him, trying to
comfort him, to hush his mewing even as he cried constantly for
the missing girl...

A girl that, according to her memory, didn't exist. A girl
she didn't want to believe in, even now with the explanation of
the Kami Plane's spell of Forgetfulness altering their memories.
Even with all the evidence of the youngest Tendo daughter's room
that had surrounded her for over a week. A part of her still
clung to the hope that it was all a result of the blood spell;
that, when they went to China, faced the Ancient One and broke
the spell, all traces of this Akane person would disappear, and
Ranma would realize that the love he felt for the non-existent
girl was nothing more than a result of the spell he was under...

But another part of her, the solid, rational part, knew that
she was fooling herself. This was the part of her that knew of
Nabiki's similar internal struggle. She knew that the Tendo girl
had feelings for Ranma. She had seen those feelings in a
fleeting moment when Nabiki's usual cold mask had slipped, the
very afternoon before Ranma was taken by the Shadowcat...

And yet, even so, Nabiki chose to expose the truth behind
the blood spell and the Kami Plane's spell of Forgetfulness;
revealing the truth of her younger sister's existence, knowing
that doing so destroyed any chance she might have with Ranma...

Of course, what Nabiki did was only right. To do anything
else would be selfishly inhuman, even more monstrous than what
Shampoo did, casting the blood spell in the first place. But
Ukyo couldn't help but envy the stone-faced girl her ability to
put fierce, unblinking family loyalty above her own private
passion.

Ukyo had no family. Her own passion and loyalty was
completely undivided. It lay solely with Ranma.

But he loved Akane...

And her own words to Shampoo, as she rebuked the Amazon for
casting the blood spell, echoed relentlessly, mercilessly in her
mind...

*If you ever really cared about him at all... you would have
let *him* choose...*

Ranma had chosen.

And what was she to do now?

"Ucchan..." Ranma's female voice, filled with panicky
concern, calling her from the depths of her misery... "Don't...
don't cry, Ucchan. I'm... okay. Really."

Ukyo looked up at him, at his pale girl's face, his haunted
blue eyes... He was lying, of course; she could tell just by
looking at him that he was far from okay.

And she hadn't even realized she was crying. She wasn't the
weepy type, really. She had cried more this past week than she
had in her entire life. Even now, she couldn't feel the tears
that coursed down her face to fall lightly on her hands, folded
in her lap. She just felt numb. The surface of her skin
tingled. She kept waiting for the shattering sound of her heart,
but it didn't come. Her heart continued to pound in her chest,
almost painfully, as if forcing her to be aware that she was
still alive...

Ranma was still trying to comfort her in his usual awkward
way, and of course he had no real clue regarding the true source
of her tears. He was so naive that way... "I mean, hey," he was
saying, trying to sound cheerful and failing miserably. "I know
I'm... stuck... right now..." His eyes wavered a little, as if
afraid to look down at his body; the body that, by all
appearances, denied him the right to use the male pronoun at all.
"But at least I... I'm... back, right?" He pointed half-
heartedly towards his head with one slender hand. "I mean... one
out of two ain't bad, I guess..." He tried to laugh, but it
sounded hollow, and the laugh didn't reach his eyes.

Ukyo felt a sad smile curling at the edges of her mouth as
she wiped the tears from her face. How like him, trying to cheer
her up, when he looked like he was on the verge of tears himself.
But he hated to see girls cry...

"Ucchan." Ranma's voice was quiet, penetrating, demanding
her attention. He dropped his gaze to his hands in his lap.
"I... I'm no good at this but..."

Ukyo stopped breathing.

"... but... I remember... how you stayed with me. How
you..." He winced, and heaved a deep, shaky breath, as if the
effort of thinking back on the past eight days was physically
painful. His cheeks flushed with remembered humiliation, but he
plunged ahead. "Anyway... I just... Thanks," he finished
awkwardly. He looked up at her, and smiled half-heartedly.

Ukyo sighed.

"Ranchan..." she said, reaching out to take his small,
bandaged hand. He looked down at where her hand clasped his, as
if unsure how to react. She smiled thinly, her green eyes bright
and wet, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "You..."

*You want to come with me, don't you? You want to come with
me, and we'll search for a way to break the Snow Woman's cold
spell so that you can be a man again, and we'll be together and
then you'll see how I've loved you for so long, how I would love
you forever, and we'll live happily for the rest of...*

She looked at Ranma, and in his face she could see...
gratitude. Unconditional friendship. The same feelings she'd
seen in his face, for her, since they were children together...

And that was all.

"You want..." She swallowed. "...to leave now to break the
blood spell, don't you?"

Ranma blinked at her in surprise, then nodded. "Yeah," he
said hoarsely.

She could almost see him thinking about Akane. It was the
one thing she recognized in his countenance from the past week.

"Well then," she said. And to her surprise, her voice did
not crack. "Everyone's packed and ready to go. We're ready to
leave when you are."

And the haunted look on Ranma's face faded slightly, to be
replaced by eagerness, anxiousness...

"I'm ready now," he said.

Ukyo's smiled. But the smile could not reach her eyes.

--------------------

"Nabiki. Nabiki, wake up."

Nabiki groaned and tried to bury her head deeper into her
pillow. "G'way, Ukyo," she muttered crankily. To be shaken out
of the first real rest she'd had in over a week did not put her
in the best of moods.

Ukyo shook her again. "Ranma's awake," she said quietly.

Nabiki lifted her head out of her pillow and looked at Ukyo,
all thoughts of sleep immediately banished from her mind. She
sat up, realizing as she did that she had fallen asleep where she
collapsed on her bed, still completely dressed, lying above her
bed covers. "Where is he? Is he okay?"

"He's... fine." Ukyo's green eyes flickered slightly, and
she reached up to absently brush her thick chestnut hair over her
shoulder. "He's getting dressed. He wants to leave for China
right away."

Nabiki nodded, running her fingers through her own mussed
hair. "I knew he would. We'd better go downstairs, wake the
others, and tell them to get ready." Then she peered closely at
Ukyo, at her pale face and red, swollen eyes... "Ukyo... are you
okay?" She frowned. "Don't tell me you didn't get some sleep
when you had the chance."

"I'll sleep on the plane." Ukyo smiled weakly as Nabiki
continued to frown reprimandingly, and sat down next to her on
the bed, her shoulders sagging. "But how could I think of
sleeping," she whispered, "when he was so... so..."

And tears welled up in her eyes again. She brushed at them
in frustration and sighed.

Nabiki's half-lidded scowl melted away. "It's okay," she
said quietly. "I understand."

Ukyo smiled gratefully. It was so strange. Before the
whole blood spell crisis, she never would have thought she could
be friends with someone who seemed as cold and mercenary as
Nabiki Tendo. But the past week, as the two of them worked
together trying to find a way to help Ranma, she had seen a
completely different side to the older girl.

Well, not really a different side. Nabiki was as
businesslike and no-nonsense as usual. But now, Ukyo knew that
beneath Nabiki's coldly rational intellect beat a truly warm
heart. The Nabiki she had come to know this past week was a
person she was glad... and surprised... to call her friend. And
the most surprising thing was that she knew the feeling was
reciprocated. Nabiki seemed just as amazed to find a companion
and ally in the okonomiyaki chef.

And in their talks, conversations that had stretched into
the long hours of the night as they kept their careful vigil over
Ranma, they both found comfort from their mutual grief in the
first real female friendship they had ever experienced. For
while Ukyo had forsaken her femininity throughout her childhood
and had thus never had any real female friends, Nabiki's self-
imposed isolation, her general disdain for the "giggling fools"
that made up the popular cliques, and her intentional fostering
of her own ruthless reputation, prevented her from forming any
meaningful bonds with her peers... male or female.

In spite of all that, as well as their personal differences,
they were now fast friends.

"Nabiki," Ukyo looked up at her, her expression etched with
anguish. "He... remembers. He remembers everything."

Nabiki's eyes widened. "Are you serious?" she breathed.
Ranma had never remembered anything about his experiences in the
Nekoken after coming out of it. She chewed her lip in silent
consternation as she thought of the consequences of Ukyo's
revelation; of the devastating effects it could have on Ranma's
ego. "I was afraid of something like this. He's never been in
the Nekoken so long before."

Ukyo looked down as she twisted her hands in her lap. "You
should see him, Nabiki." Her voice was low and hoarse. "You can
see it in his face; all the memories... And on top of that, he's
stuck as a girl, and he knows it."

Nabiki closed her eyes briefly. This was not good. "Do you
think he's up to this?" she asked. "Leaving for China right
away?"

Ukyo laughed; a short, sad sound, full of irony. "I don't
think we could stop him if we tried. He wants... to rescue
Akane. Right now, that's even more important to him than
changing back into a guy. Probably more important to him than
breathing."

Nabiki glanced at Ukyo, her expression carefully neutral.
"Ukyo... you haven't given up on Ranma, have you," she said
quietly. A statement, not a question.

Ukyo didn't raise her head, but she blinked and brushed at
her wet eyes with her hand. "Dammit, I knew you were going to
say that." Her voice was low, but steady. "What can I say,
Nabiki? I know he loves... your sister... and I want him to be
happy. Heck, I want you and your family to be happy..." She
sniffed, and her voice broke. "But... I would be lying if I said
I didn't think about what might happen... I mean, I can't help
but think, what if the blood spell can't be broken? What if it's
impossible to get Akane back? And then I think, Ranma will need
someone to comfort him..."

Ukyo put her face in her hands, her long hair spilling
forward around her. "And then... I feel so *ashamed* for
thinking it... for feeling that way... because I know that's what
Shampoo planned when she cast the blood spell in the first
place..."

Nabiki sat quietly for a moment. "You're being too hard on
yourself, Ukyo," she said at last. "I know you. You would never
have cast the blood spell. And what you're thinking is only
human nature. I myself have wondered... if it's too late to save
Akane."

Ukyo raised her head and looked up at her in shock.

"Don't look so surprised. It's been almost three weeks
since the blood spell, after all, and anything could have
happened to her in the Kami Plane." In spite of the calm
bluntness of her words, Nabiki's hazel eyes flickered slightly.
"And I keep thinking... what if she's lost forever? How will
I... feel?"

Nabiki sighed and looked around her room. "I mean, I know
she's real, because of the hard evidence I've found, and that I
keep finding..." She thought of the negatives of Akane she'd
discovered on the same rolls of film that she'd used to take
pictures of Ranma's girl form... and evidence in her ledger that
she'd sold all of the photos to Kuno...

She glanced back at Ukyo. "I know she's real. But I don't
*remember* her," she said quietly. "I mean, if she is lost
forever, it won't be like when Mother died. There are no
feelings, no memories, no nostalgia... Nothing for me to... to
mourn for. None of us... Father, Kasumi... have any reason to
feel grief over the loss of Akane, because we only have the
intellectual knowledge that she exists somewhere far away. I
think of my mother. It's been years since her death, and there
are so many things about her I've forgotten... but at least I
remember that I loved her, and that she loved me. I can still
feel it..."

Nabiki trailed off for a moment and closed her eyes.
"But... I don't have anything like that for Akane," she finished.

Ukyo looked at Nabiki, her eyes wide. She hadn't even
considered that. And yet it made sense. After all, this past
week the Tendo family had seemed much more concerned over Ranma's
plight than over the plight of the daughter/sister they knew
existed but couldn't remember.

Nabiki opened her eyes and raised her head, yet her calm
expression quivered slightly. "Did you know, I almost didn't
tell anyone of my discovery that Akane was real?" She chuckled
humorlessly. "I almost didn't. I almost swept her existence
under the carpet, because I knew it would be easier to live in
the reality that had imposed itself on all of us, rather than try
to bend all our lives to Ranma's reality. Even if his reality
was the right one."

"What made you change your mind?" asked Ukyo softly.

Nabiki snorted in quiet self-derision. "Because, Ukyo, in
spite of my carefully cultivated image as the woman of ice, I'm a
complete softy. The truth is, I couldn't stand to see Ranma
suffer because of Shampoo's lies any more."

Ukyo saw wetness form in Nabiki's hazel eyes in spite of her
calm demeanor. "Besides," she continued, "whether I remember her
or not... Akane's my sister. She's family. And I want to
remember her. I want to know her. I look at the pictures of her
with our family, and I still can't remember her. I can't feel
anything for her except frustration that she's nothing but a big
blank in my mind, and it makes me feel sick, and I can't bear the
thought of not even being able to feel proper grief over her
disappearance."

Nabiki's hands clenched at her sides. "I don't like anyone
or anything messing with my mind. Or my family. And this blood
spell has done both. So, even though I know it might be... too
late... I hope Ranma can break the blood spell and get Akane
back. But... if he can't... if worse comes to worse and
something goes wrong..."

She trailed off, then turned to look into Ukyo's wide eyes.
"If Ranma can't break the blood spell, you *should* be there for
him," she said firmly. "Because Ranma *does* remember Akane.
And if he can't get her back... Well, just as Shampoo planned,
he'll need someone to comfort him. And you're more qualified
than anyone else I know to do that. At least in my eyes."

Ukyo blinked, stunned. Then a small, tremulous smile lit
her face. "Thanks, Nabiki. I... I really needed to hear that."

"Don't thank me. I'm just giving you the cold hard facts of
the matter."

Ukyo's smile turned wry. "Precisely why I'm thanking you."
She sighed heavily, almost in relief, as if a great black burden
had been lifted from her, and stood from the bed. "I think
Ranchan should be dressed by now," she said.

Nabiki nodded, and stood as well. "We should probably go
get him and let him know what's been going on, before he goes
downstairs and finds--"

"OH, MY PIGTAILED GODDESS!! THOU HAST AWAKENED FROM THY
SLUMBER AND COMETH TO GREET ME LIKE THE BREAKING RAYS OF DAWN
DISPELLING THE DARKEST NIGHT!!"

"GYAAAAA!! KUNO, GET OFFA ME, YOU PERVERT!!"

Ukyo and Nabiki exchanged glances as the shouts rang through
the house.

Nabiki shrugged. "Too late," she sighed. Ukyo turned and
ran out the door and down the stairs as Nabiki followed quickly
after.

They reached the dining room just in time to see Kuno
collapse to the floor unconscious. Ranma stood, trembling in
fury, his favorite black pants and red Chinese shirt hanging
loosely on his female body, his small fist still extended from
his thrown punch.

And Nabiki couldn't help but feel elated to see him standing
on two legs, human intelligence burning brightly in his narrowed
blue eyes, even if those eyes were framed by a female face. It
had been too long...
He turned towards her sharply as she followed Ukyo into the
room. "What the *hell* is Kuno doing in here?!" he yelled,
seething.

Nabiki smiled. "Well, he felt it was beneath him to camp
outside with the others, so..."

"You know what I mean, Nabiki," he growled.

She suppressed a smirk. Yes, Ranma was back. "He's paying
our way to China," she answered matter-of-factly. "He's flying
everyone there in a private jet. So before you go breaking any
more of his teeth, you might want to remember that without him,
we'd all be taking the slow boat, so to speak."

Ranma blinked, and looked down at the fallen samurai.
"He's... paying? But weren't you... I thought you said..."

Nabiki's smile flickered so slightly that Ranma thought he
might have imagined it. "Oh, that," she said smoothly. "Well,
you know, I figured if Kuno was up for it, why not? Besides,
he's more than happy to foot the bill whenever you're--oof." She
was cut off as Ukyo elbowed her a little too roughly in the ribs.

"What she means to say, Ranchan," said Ukyo, ignoring
Nabiki's angry scowl, "is that she can't pay for the trip because
she's broke."

"Broke?" Ranma blinked in astonishment. "Nabiki?" For
some reason, he was having trouble associating the two words
together.

Nabiki clenched her teeth, her face flushing slightly, and
looked away. She hated to acknowledge that she had depleted all
her resources, without a single personal asset remaining.
Knowing that she was only barely in the black made her feel naked
and exposed. But everything had happened so fast, and she didn't
have the time to make back the money she'd spent, between having
the Nekohanten bugged, making the tape dubs, hiring people to
find Ranma, searching all over trying to track down ways to break
all the magic spells that had been flying thick... Hell, she was
drained dry. It would take months of working in her usual
circles before her finances were back to normal.

Ukyo pretended not to notice her friend's discomfort. After
all, she was proud of Nabiki's sacrifice, and if Nabiki wouldn't
confess to her generous acts, she would. "She spent all the
rest of her money this past week trying to find a way to help you
break out of the Nekoken," she said, looking meaningfully at
Ranma.

Ranma's eyes widened as he looked over at Nabiki. She
looked up and met his gaze, her cool expression almost defiant,
as if daring him to find the spark of compassion she had tried
for so long to keep hidden, lest it ruin her ruthless reputation.

But in that moment, as she looked into his eyes, behind the
growing realization on his face, she saw...

... saw a flash of the haunted memories that were playing
through his mind, glittering in his eyes. The shadow that
crossed his face was raw and terrible, and it made her want to
shudder. *Oh no,* she thought, all thoughts of money and
reputations vanishing from her mind. *Ukyo was right, he
remembers everything. How can he stand it?*

Ukyo must have seen it too, because she reached out. "Oh...
I'm sorry Ranchan, I didn't mean..."

Ranma blinked, and the shadow faded from his countenance.
He sighed. "It's okay, Ucchan," he said quietly. And he walked
over to Nabiki, looking up through his red bangs into the taller
girl's face. "I'll... find a way to pay you back," he said
sincerely.

Nabiki stared at him. She couldn't help but think of the
time when Ranma had accidentally destroyed a pair of elite
concert tickets, complete with backstage passes, on which she had
splurged in a rare moment of extravagance. He had humbly
apologized, but she had been furious at the loss. The next day,
when she and Ranma were left alone in the house while the others
ran errands, she made him suffer. She pulled every dirty trick
and manipulation in the book, and then some. When she was
finally through with him, poor Ranma was a frazzled wreck.

Now, for the first time in her life, as she thought back on
that incident of revenge, she felt... ashamed.

*Ranma's not the only one who's been changed by this blood
spell,* she realized with a surprise that didn't reach her
expression. *Though I'm not quite sure if this is a good thing
or not...*

She decided not to think about it at the moment. Instead,
she looked at Ranma and feigned indifference to his offer.
"Don't worry about it," she said, not quite able to hide her
discomfort. "Just promise me you'll rescue my sister, okay?"

Ranma nodded, his blue eyes grave and grateful. "I
promise," he said.

Nabiki looked past him, eager to change the subject. She
spotted just the thing. "Oh, and just so you know. When he
wakes up," she said, gesturing to Kuno's unconscious form, "he's
flying us to China so that we can rescue his beloved mystery girl
-- who just *happens* to be my long lost sister -- from a dragon.
Not quite the truth, but close enough." She snorted softly. "I
can't believe how ga-ga he is over a girl he's only seen in
photographs. Still, it's lucky for us that he seems to be as
obsessed with her as he is with you."

Ranma frowned, but before he could respond, the screen door
slid open, and Ryoga stepped through. Shampoo and Mousse
followed close behind. They were holding hands... to Ranma's
astonishment.

Ryoga's eyes widened as he saw his friend, still in cursed
form, but standing upright for the first time in a week. "Uh...
hi, Ranma," said Ryoga awkwardly. "Welcome back." He
immediately wanted to kick himself as soon as the words came out
of his mouth. *Welcome back?!* he thought. *Oh that's just
great. I might as well have just said 'Welcome back from being a
cat.' What kind of stupid thing is that to say after what he's
been through?*

But Ranma only smiled slightly. "Thanks, Ryoga." He
paused, as the shadow of memory flickered in his eyes briefly.
"For everything."

Ryoga missed Ranma's tone completely, still squirming over
his imagined faux pas. "Hey," he replied, trying to cover his
discomfort, acting nonchalant and failing. "It was no problem.
I mean, sure, all that reading was hard on the eyes--"

Mousse pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his
index finger. "You can say *that* again," he murmured.

"-- and we may not have found a cure, but Shampoo did find a
ton of wards in an old Chinese book that will help protect us
when we go fight that dragon, so all that work wasn't a complete
waste."

"Huh?" Ranma blinked in confusion. "What are you talking
about?"

Nabiki cleared her throat. "Shampoo, Mousse, Ryoga and
Doctor Tofu spent the week over at Kintaro-sensei's library,
reading all of his ancient Chinese and Japanese documents, trying
to find a cure for the Nekoken and the cold spell," she supplied
helpfully.

Ranma's eyes widened as he looked at the weary trio,
suddenly understanding why he couldn't remember seeing them all
week. Ryoga and Mousse, two guys that usually acted like they
were his worst enemies... trying to help him? And Shampoo....

Shampoo was looking at him, her violet eyes wide and
flickering, her face ragged and exhausted...

"Wards not for dragon," she said softly, hesitantly as she
looked into his girl's face. "Wards for demons."

Ranma met her gaze, and felt his expression harden as a rush
of anger rose within him at the sight of her, the one who had
caused him so much pain...

...and Shampoo flinched, seeing it in his face. She lowered
her head in shame.

Mousse, who had been watching Ranma carefully, glanced down
at Shampoo; saw her crumple under the venom of Ranma's gaze. And
Ranma half expected Mousse to jerk his head up and attack him,
shouting at him for making his darling Shampoo feel bad, or
something along those lines...

Mousse looked up, but he didn't attack. Instead, he looked
at Ranma through his thick glasses... almost pleadingly. He
didn't move, and he didn't say a word, but his expression spoke
for him as he looked down at Shampoo again sadly.

Ranma blinked, taken aback as he looked back and forth
between Mousse and Shampoo. The tall Chinese boy was standing
over her like a protector, and she was clasping his hand tightly,
as if holding on to a lifeline.

Ranma took a deep breath and calmed himself. His anger,
though it might be justified, would not accomplish anything, he
realized. Shampoo was trying to help, after all. And she looked
so tormented...

He winced as a memory surfaced; as he remembered Shampoo's
expression from days previous, when she saw him for the first
time, trapped with a girl body and a feline soul...

He remembered it all. Seeing the look on her face, the
mixture of horror and anguish and guilt as she looked down at
him, knowing that she was responsible for his plight... It was
awful to remember that look on her face...

And even worse to remember the feeling of his own dimmed,
transformed mind, which could not even comprehend the meaning of
her expression...

But he understood now. And, strangely, he found that he
felt better, knowing that Shampoo was sincere in her desire to
fix what she had done to him... to Akane...

"What were you saying about the wards, Shampoo?" he asked.
And there was no trace of anger, no hint of accusation in his
mezzo-soprano voice.

Shampoo raised her head and looked at him as she heard...
not forgiveness, but... a chance. A chance to redeem herself.
She straightened slightly, and a spark of hope flickered in her
clouded violet eyes. "Wards no good against Ancient One," she
replied. "Just for demons that guard mountain. We no reach
Ancient One unless we get past demons."

Ranma nodded approval. "Then I'm glad you found those
wards," he said sincerely. "That will make this trip a lot
easier."

Shampoo's countenance brightened slightly, but her eyes were
wet. "I lead you to Ancient One. I do everything I can to... to
break blood spell."
Ranma almost smiled. He looked around at the assembled
group; at his friends. They looked at him, as if merely waiting
for the word.

"Are you guys ready to go?" he asked.

"We just need to pack our tents," said Ryoga, indicating
himself and Mousse. "Then we can leave any time."

Ranma reached down with a slender arm, grabbed Kuno by the
back of his samurai uniform, hauled the unconscious young man to
his feet, then slung him awkwardly over his petite shoulder.

He brushed his red hair from his eyes with his free hand.
"Then let's go to China," he said.

--------------------

Outside in the Tendo yard, where two tents were pitched by
the koi pond, a small, blurring shadow moved silently in the gray
morning fog. There was the slightest rustle as it disappeared
through the open flap of the larger of the two tents... and the
slightest rustle as it emerged a few moments later, cackling
softly as it bounded away...

The patio door slid open a moment later, and Ryoga and
Mousse stepped out. Mousse paused a moment, and cocked his head.

"What's wrong?" asked Ryoga.

Mousse frowned. "Did you... hear something just now?"

Ryoga listened a moment, then shook his head. "Nothing
unusual. Why?"

The tall, bespectacled Chinese boy looked troubled for a
moment, but then he shrugged it off. "I guess it was nothing,"
he said, then walked over to the larger tent to pack it up for
the trip.

--------------------

Out of the blissful oblivion of unconsciousness... came
throbbing pain... the sound of voices, murmuring soft... and the
feel of cool fingers touching her forehead lightly...
Akane groaned softly. Her shoulder hurt, and her thigh was
shooting sharp messages of pain along her nerve endings...

*I'm alive,* she realized with genuine surprise. She
thought for sure that when the blackness claimed her, after
sustaining such serious injury from the Shadowcat demon, that she
was as good as dead. Maybe she was. But surely, if she were
dead, she wouldn't be feeling pain... would she?

"She's still running a slight fever..."

"Well, that's only to be expected, mistress..."

The voices sounded... familiar. Sluggishly, reluctantly,
Akane opened her eyes to see where she was, to see whose hand
rested on her forehead...

"Ah... Akane, you are awake at last." The Snow Woman
smiled down at her, her frost blue eyes filling with icy tears.

And Akane felt her stomach clench in horror and fury as she
found herself looking into the face she had hoped she would never
see again. Only, the Snow Woman's white, bloodless face was not
as flawless as she remembered. The unearthly white skin was
riddled with tiny blackened cracks. Still, it was the face of
the creature who had cast the cold spell on Ranma and then
delivered him up to the Shadowcat demon; the Shadowcat demon that
had gone on to kill Masakazu... and that had nearly killed her...

"You!" Akane's voice was a dry rasp; her throat felt like
sandpaper. She tried to sit up, to push herself away, but
searing pain tore through her shoulder and leg, making her gasp
and collapse back to the white futon on which she'd been laying,
tears of agony filling her eyes. "Dammit," she whispered. It
hurt so bad. She had to focus over the pain, she had to get
away...

"Akane, please!" The Snow Woman's voice was anxious.
"Your wounds haven't healed completely, you must rest..." And
she reached out a hand to gently restrain the struggling girl.

Akane's head snapped up, her brown eyes blazing in spite of
the pain flaring through her body. "Don't you *touch* me, you
witch!" she hissed through clenched teeth.

The Snow Woman's eyes widened, stunned, and her hand fell to
her side. "But... Akane..."

Akane's face was filled with unbridled fury and contempt.
"I don't know how I got here," she said, her voice shaking with
pain as she weakly pushed herself further away from the Snow
Woman, "but I'm leaving as soon as possible."

The Snow Woman's cracked, marred face went slack with shock.
"But... you came back..."

"If you think for one minute that I'm staying with the
*demon* who betrayed me," Akane snarled, "who handed Ranma over
to the Shadowcat, you're crazier than I thought!"

The Snow Woman blinked. *Demon..?* The hate in Akane's
gaze was unbearable. It pierced through her just as surely and
more deadly than the sharpest blade. She felt her cold heart
inside her chest contract in horrified realization. *She knows
what I did to Ranma... How does she..?*

And that realization was followed closely by another. The
Snow Woman's eyes widened. *She... still remembers Ranma. The
Kami Plane's spell of Forgetfulness has failed...*

*It cannot be. I... have failed? Everything for
nothing...*

Trembling, the Snow Woman stood, her silken robes flowing
around her slender form. "Akane." Her voice broke as she looked
down at the girl; the girl she thought of as a daughter, the girl
for whose return she'd waited patiently, the girl who glared up
at her in disgust even as she shook from the pain of her
wounds...

Akane had changed greatly in two and a half years. But
then, most mortals do. As Akane struggled to push herself into
an upright position, in spite of the fact that her shoulder wound
was beginning to bleed through her bandages, seeping through the
white of her nightgown, the Snow Woman could see that her blue-
black hair fell nearly to her waist. She had grown a few
centimeters. And, in the girl's brown eyes, beyond the contempt,
and beyond the tears of pain... she could see new wisdom there,
gained through the suffering she had experienced in her travels
throughout the Kami Plane. She had suffered so much, all to
break the blood spell. All for the sake of that boy Ranma...

She could not bear the hate in Akane's eyes.

"I... will not keep you here, Akane." The Snow Woman's
voice was quiet, almost a whisper. "I could not if I wanted to.
But... you are welcome to stay until you are fully healed. If
you decide to stay, Kazuo will tend to your needs. I will not
intrude upon you further." And so saying, she turned and quietly
left the room.

Akane stared after her, blinking in surprise. *This has got
to be a trick,* she thought.

She heard a heavy sigh behind her.

Focusing over the pain, and turning her head carefully, she
saw Kazuo. The little blue-skinned ice sprite was kneeling next
to a tray covered with clean bandages and assorted, colorful
jars. He was looking at her sadly.

"You are bleeding," he said. "You had better lie down."

Akane looked down, and saw that she was indeed bleeding;
that her blood had soaked through her bandage and was now
staining her white nightgown. When she looked up again at Kazuo,
he sighed again. "You needn't worry; she won't return. As she
said, while you remain, she will not trouble you."

Akane snorted softly. "Like I have any reason to believe
anything she says." She winced and gasped slightly as the pain
in her shoulder became unbearable, and shifted in her tensed
position. She was in pain, she was angry... and she was scared.
As she focused, she understood the messages her body was sending
her. A feeling of light-headedness and nausea flooded through
her, and threatened to break her concentration. She knew without
looking that her torn-up leg wouldn't support her weight...
There was no way she could walk out of here under her own power.
Not yet, at least.

But how had she even come to the Snow Woman's realm? Surely
the Snow Woman hadn't ventured into the Gaki domain to rescue
her. She knew that the Snow Woman never left her domain, except
to cross over into the mortal realm...

The last thing she remembered was defeating the Shadowcat,
crawling across the blood-slick floor in search of the missing
piece of comb... feeling the cold tendrils of death seep into her
body as her lifeblood spilled from her wounds...

Susa-no-o's comb...

Akane reached back with her good arm and felt at the crown
of her head. The comb wasn't there. Her hair flowed loosely
past her shoulders and down her back, unbound from its usual
french braid...

Her eyes widened in panic. "Where..?!"

"Are you looking for this?" She looked over at Kazuo. He
held the comb in his hand, the two pieces still bound together
with a strip of blood-stained cloth. Akane narrowed her eyes
suspiciously as she held out her shaking hand, half expecting him
to pull it out of reach...

Kazuo handed it to her. "Really, mistress Akane," he said
with a touch of exasperation. "I have no reason to keep it from
you. And you really should lie down before you fall down."

Akane wasn't listening. She took the comb and plunged it
into her thick hair. **Susa-no-o!** she called mentally.
**What's going on? Why am I in the Snow Woman's domain?**

There was no answer. She couldn't feel his presence at all.

**Answer me, dammit! I know you can hear me!**

But she didn't know any such thing. And, as the silence
echoed in her mind, she began to realize with a terrible sinking
feeling that she was stuck. Trapped in the realm of the person
who had betrayed and manipulated her... and who had done the
worst thing possible to Ranma, trapping him in cursed form, then
delivering him as a gift to the Shadowcat demon...

A wave of dizziness swept over her, disrupting her focus,
allowing the pain of her wounds to spike through her
consciousness. She sank down to the futon, moaning.

"There, what did I tell you? And now I'm going to have to
change that bandage again."
Akane closed her eyes briefly to regain her focus, breathing
deeply, but not too deeply because of the searing pain in her
shoulder. "Why are you the one taking care of me?" she asked,
wheezing slightly. "I know you can't stand me. Why not one of
the other servants?"

"They all left," said Kazuo shortly. He reached over to
unbutton the front of her nightgown.

Akane's eyes widened, and she grabbed his wrist. "What do
you think you're doing, you pervert?" she yelled.

Kazuo favored her with a half-lidded glare. "I've been
changing your bandages all week," he said coldly.

Akane blinked, still clenching Kazuo's wrist. *I've been in
the Snow Woman's domain... for a whole week? And I only now
regained consciousness?* The thought alarmed her. She had been
in the hands of the enemy, utterly helpless... And if they had
used any of the healing salves she had used frequently during her
previous stay, she should have recovered a lot sooner...

Unless...

She felt the weakness throughout her body, the searing pain
that, even now ate away at her concentration... Just how close
to death had she come?

When she still didn't let go of his wrist, Kazuo reached
down with his free hand and grabbed the blanket, which she had
kicked away in her earlier struggles, and pulled it up over her
chest. "You can cover yourself with this, if you insist on
propagating an overblown sense of modesty," he said. "But if you
do not allow me to change your bandages, you will slow down your
recovery, and then you'll be stuck here even longer."

Akane glared at the little ice sprite, but she let go of his
wrist. She clutched the blanket to her chest with her good hand
as Kazuo reached over, undid the top buttons of her nightgown and
pulled the cloth back, leaving the left shoulder and its bloody
bandages exposed. He then carefully removed the bandages from her
shoulder. Akane gasped in pain, as the bandage stuck to the
wound in places.

She turned her head and looked down at the wound. She could
clearly see four parallel gashes where the power of the
Shadowcat's Nekoken had grazed her. She realized that Kazuo must
have been using the healing salve that she and Masakazu had often
used, because the edges of the wound were almost completely
healed, the edges of skin melding together leaving no sign that
the wounds had extended as far as they had except for the thin,
pink ribbon of scar tissue that would be hers forever. Even so,
in spite of the rapid healing, the widest, deepest parts of the
wounds were still scabbing. Her exertions had reopened three of
the four gashes.

As she turned her head, looking back up at the crystalline
ceiling, Kazuo's statement penetrated her pain-fogged mind.
"They all left? All of the other servants?" she asked. "What do
you mean?"

"Exactly what you think I mean." Kazuo carefully applied
the healing salve to the wounds. Akane felt the numbing agents
seep immediately into her flesh, easing the pain, and she relaxed
slightly.

"Why?" she asked. "Why did everyone leave?"

"I would think that you of all people would know," Kazuo
replied. "You obviously are aware of what Mistress Yuki-onna did
right after you left. How she summoned that... dreadful
Shadowcat demon."

Akane blinked in realization, even as she felt a thick
drowsiness fog her mind. Kazuo must have used the strong stuff.
But then that was only natural, considering the nature of her
injuries. "They left because she summoned the demon? You
mean... she's been alone for the past two and a half years?"

"Well, I stayed with her, of course." Kazuo placed a fresh,
clean bandage over Akane's bare shoulder.

"Why did you stay? I mean, it sounds like you weren't too
thrilled about her summoning the Shadowcat either."

"Of course not. Consorting with demons is..." Kazuo
frowned. "It was... beneath her."

"Beneath her?!" Akane was incredulous, even as she felt
sleep tugging at her consciousness. "It was evil!"
"That too."

"Then why did you stay?"

Kazuo blinked, and his hard expression turned sad once
again. "Because... even though her actions were evil, I
understood... I understand her. I've been with her longer than
any of the others. I knew she did it out of love... for you."

"Love?" Akane laughed, short and derisive, yet tired as she
fought the heaviness suddenly weighing down her eyelids. "She
doesn't know the meaning of the word 'love.' If she did, she
would never have summoned the Shadowcat in the first place. She
would never have laughed, watching through her mirror as Ranma
suffered. She... never would have betrayed me..." Her voice
trailed off, and, in spite of herself, her eyes slipped shut.
"She wouldn't... have betrayed me..."

Kazuo watched as Akane fell into the healing sleep. His
hard expression softened to one of sadness.

"No," he whispered. "I suppose not."

--------------------

*...doesn't know the meaning of the word 'love'...*

Yuki-onna stood in front of her mirror. It was still
covered by the thick cloth she had thrown over it in a violent
fit of grief and guilt over two and a half years ago, after
peering into the mortal plane to see what was causing the
horrible feeling of loss that touched her, that penetrated her to
the bone...

And, as she peered into her mirror, she had watched in
horror as Masakazu, her dear, ancient friend, was murdered by the
very demon she had loosed on the mortal plane. The demon she had
sent through that very mirror; the demon she had granted access
to the mortal realm it never would have had otherwise, all so
that she could see the boy Ranma vanquished, so that Akane would
return to her...

She had covered her mirror then, weeping and shuddering,
vowing that she would never look into it again...

But a covered mirror couldn't hide the terrible images that
were now permanently engraved into her mind's eye.

Yuki-onna closed her eyes. What a farce. As if covering
her mirror could change the truth.

How could she have deceived herself so completely? And
Masakazu had even tried to warn her.

*...doesn't know the meaning...*

Yuki-onna trembled. Opening her eyes, she reached out with
one hand and slowly pulled the cloth from the mirror.

Her eyes widened as she saw herself, her own reflection.
One slender white hand stole up to her cheek. *Ah, will these
cracks never heal..?*

Almost of their own volition, her hands went out to the
mirror, her fingers tracing patterns of frost onto its cold
silver surface.

Then, she breathed.

The frost of her breath swirled on the mirror's surface,
clearing moments later to form an image...

Wilderness. Mountains. A small group of people, each
bearing a large backpack, hiking up a strenuous mountain pass,
their dark silhouettes outlined by a fiery sunset. She focused
on them, on the leader...

It was Ranma, of course. Still in his cursed female form,
because of her cold spell. But he was no longer in the Nekoken.
He had escaped the Shadowcat's influence somehow, and was now on
his way to try and break the blood spell.

She suspected she knew how he had escaped. After all, the
source of the terrible, perfectly parallel wounds on Akane's
shoulder and thigh was not too hard to imagine.

*Ah, it gets worse and worse. Akane, I never wanted to
hurt you... I loved you like a daughter...*

Akane's voice echoed in her mind.
*...doesn't know the meaning of the word...*

A low sob escaped Yuki-onna's throat, and she pressed her
forehead against the mirror, closing her eyes. The frost on the
surface swirled, and the image of Ranma hiking through the
Chinese wilderness was lost.

The frost continued to move, almost with a life of its own,
and when a new image finally formed, it was one quite different
from any that had ever appeared on the mirror's surface before...

*****

Yuki-onna stood in quiet distress outside the small cottage,
the slight winter wind caressing her smooth face; thick, fluffy
flakes of snow falling gently from the night sky in the muffled
silence of her storm. The wind entwined her long mane of
shimmering white hair around her slender form as she pressed
herself against the trunk of a leafless cherry tree, seeking
comfort from the strange feelings that filled her, that drew her,
trembling, to this mortal abode.

The snow and the bright, sharp icicles that hung from the
bare branches of the cherry tree created a different foliage;
alien, yet beautiful and sparkling in the moonlight. Yuki-onna
peered around the tree, her frost-blue eyes filled with a
mingling of caution and longing as she gazed at the candle-light
flickering through the rice-paper window of the one-room house;
at the smoke curling from the chimney, reaching up into the
night.

After an eternity of waiting, the single door opened, and
warm yellow light spilled out into the cool blues of shadowed
snow. Yuki-onna felt her breath catch in her throat, and she
shrank against the concealing trunk of the cherry tree as a
figure emerged from the doorway.

The young man didn't pause, didn't notice her at all. He
tromped out into the fresh snow towards a sturdy wood shed,
whistling an off-key tune, oblivious to the eyes that once again
peeked cautiously, almost timidly from around the cherry tree.
He loaded his strong arms with firewood, stacking it up to his
chin, enough to keep him warm throughout the night, and walked
back towards the cottage.

Yuki-onna watched him silently from her hiding place, her
gaze tracing over the strong lines of his face, the rakish crop
of dark, unruly hair hanging over eyes that were the deep warm
blue of the summer sea...

Her heart ached strangely when the young man disappeared
inside his house, closing the door behind him against the winter
night.

**So *he* is the one you spared. I must say, he is a
handsome fellow, for a mortal.**

Yuki-onna startled at the mental voice inside her head, and
turned to see...

**Masakazu!** Her own mental response was filled more with
embarrassment than anger. **How dare you follow me here?!**

The tengu's black eyes glittered with silent laughter.
**With the way you've been moping about your domain the past few
weeks, how could I resist? I had to see for myself the mortal
man who has managed to melt your heart of ice, Yuki-chan.**

She turned away from him, trying to conceal the flustered
expression on her face, knowing that it did no good to hide it
from the tengu. **You are a snoop, Masakazu,** she replied
testily. **You should keep that pointed beak of yours out of
other people's business.**

**But, my dear friend, your business *is* my business.
Especially when it concerns something as serious as the course of
action you are considering.**

Yuki-onna glanced at him and frowned slightly. **I do wish
you would stop plucking my thoughts from my head like so many
grapes from a vine. Have you no sense of privacy?**

**None at all, my dear.** Masakazu blinked mischievously.
**You should know that by now. Besides, your thoughts make such
excellent wine.**

Yuki-onna turned from the tengu and sighed, leaning against
the trunk of the cherry tree, the frost of her breath spreading a
crystal pattern over the smooth bark as she looked towards the
candle-lit window. **Then tell me, oh wise one.** Her mental
voice was almost wistful, even in its wryness. **What should I
do about... this young man? In all my existence, I have never
encountered one such as he, whose face and soul could move me to
mercy and cause me to forsake my duties as Death's handmaiden.
Why should these hands, that have frozen the blood of so many,
hesitate to touch this one mortal?**

The tengu cocked his head at her in silence for a moment,
his piercing eyes seeming to gaze right through her as he
carefully considered his response. **It seems to me,** he said
at last, **that your time among mortals has not left you
untouched by their ways.** His mental voice was a soft touch in
her mind, almost as if he were speaking more to himself than to
her. **Could it be that you actually... love this young man?**

Yuki-onna laughed lightly, a sound like chiming crystal, yet
her delicate white hands fluttered nervously at her sides.
**Love?** she responded, raising a slender white eyebrow at the
tengu. **I know nothing of it. These mortals, they are so full
of life, and love is at the root of it all. What am I to them?
Bringer of cold, wintery death. I kill the land, bury it in a
sepulcher of white, and those who linger unprotected in my domain
are buried as well.*

A faint tinge of anxiety flickered across her smooth
features, belying the nonchalance of her tone. **I kill love.**
Her smile faltered, crumbled as her gaze wandered over to the
tiny cottage. **And I know nothing of it.**

**But you want to know.**

"Yes," she whispered.

Tengu and Snow Woman stood in the gently falling snow,
gazing at the warm little house, built solid and firm against the
elements.

**Then the decision is made.** Masakazu's voice in her head
was quiet and resigned. **I know that, even now, the first part
of your spell is in place, sealed from the time you bound the
mortal with an oath that he never speak a word of how you came to
him in the storm...**

Yuki-onna turned to look at her ancient friend. The tengu
gazed up at her, his bird-like expression unreadable. "All that
remains is your willingness to embrace the suffering," he said
aloud softly. "For you *will* suffer if you become mortal. And
suffering, like joy, is intertwined with love. It seems, from my
observation, that you cannot have one without the other."

Yuki-onna blinked.

Embrace the suffering...

She knew all too well that mortals suffered. Was it worth
it? To sacrifice everything that she was just to know what they
knew, to finally understand the light of knowledge that flickered
in their eyes even as their breath ceased and their souls slipped
out from under her icy fingers...

To be mortal... and to know love. To see love in the summer
sea-blue eyes of the man who had looked upon her supernatural
countenance in terror as she froze his sleeping elderly
companion... terror that turned to amazement and relief and
wonder in his young, handsome face as she looked into his eyes
and found herself unwilling to inflict him with the cold of her
touch...

*****

"Um... hello."

Her voice shook, and she immediately wished she could take
back the simple words, wished she could fade into the spring
forest and never return to this place until the snow buried it
once again, wished she could rewind time and erase her clumsy
entrance. What was she thinking? What made her so sure she
could just walk up to him and introduce herself out of the blue?
She knew nothing of mortal ways! What was she even doing here?!
He probably wouldn't want anything to do with her. Oh, why
hadn't she stayed in her domain where she belonged? Her fingers
entwined nervously around the rough cloth of her peasant dress,
and she felt heat rise in her face; an unsettling, unfamiliar
sensation that seemed connected with the fluttering feeling in
her stomach...

The young man finished his swing, the ax splitting the log
neatly in two, and looked up at her, surprised. Of course he was
surprised. Here he was in the middle of a forest, a good five
miles from the village, and this strange woman appears out of
nowhere while he's chopping wood...

His blue eyes widened as he looked at her, and she noticed
that his startled gaze traveled from her face down to her feet
and back up again, pausing noticeably in between. A pink flush
rose to his cheeks as he suddenly swallowed hard and looked
directly into her face. He lowered the ax and brushed his dark,
damp bangs from his forehead with one hand, then reached down to
smooth his rough tunic. "Uhh... H-hello," he stuttered.

He seemed nervous. Could it be that he recognized her? Her
eyes were the same frost blue, but her skin, though pale, was no
longer white due to the blood that now coursed through her veins.
She was shorter by a few hand-spans, and her long thick hair was
lustrous black instead of shimmering white. The simple rough
peasant dress she wore bore no resemblance to the flowing silk
robes of her former office.

If he recognized her... what would she do? The very
foundation of the spell of her mortality was completely dependent
on the power of the oath this young man took when she spared his
life. But... if he suspected who she was, surely he would fear
her, not love her... and if he didn't love her, the spell would
be incomplete. It would deteriorate, and she would become as she
once was, no closer to understanding the strange, compelling
beauty of humanity and the unfamiliar feelings this young man
evoked in her...

"Who are you?" he asked suddenly. "I... I mean what are you
doing out here, so far from the village? That is, if you're from
the village... Are you lost?" The young man looked slightly
panicky as the words tumbled out of his mouth.

Yuki-onna looked up at him, relief flooding through her. He
didn't recognize her. He thought she was lost, and that was just
as good as thinking she was human. Then why had her appearance
sent him into stuttering fear?

"I was out walking," she said, smiling, trying to set him at
ease, though she didn't understand his apprehension. "I heard
the sound of your ax ringing through the wood, and I followed
it."

"Oh." The young man relaxed only slightly, and he returned
her smile hesitantly. He ran his fingers nervously through his
unruly mop of dark hair.

"You must be the village wood cutter."

"Y-yes, I am." He stared at her.

Moments passed in uncomfortable silence, and Yuki-onna felt
her heart sink. She was doing this all wrong, she had no idea
what to do or say next. And the young man didn't seem to want to
talk to her. She had interrupted his work, and now he was
waiting for her to go away so he could return to it. Her
expression saddened as she felt her dreams slipping away...

"You must be very busy. I'm sorry I bothered you," she said
quietly. And she turned to leave.

"No, wait!" His voice, still slightly panicked, made her
turn around. A look of dismay was etched across his features.
"I... I'm sorry for being rude, it's just that I don't get many
visitors out here... especially... girls... and I've never seen
you in the village, because I'm sure I'd remember you..." He
trailed off and swallowed hard. Then, to her surprise, he
straightened and bowed deeply. "I'm sorry... Please... you're
not bothering me. You don't have to go... unless you want to..."

Yuki-onna felt a warm smile spreading across her face, and
she felt a light, tingly sensation building in her chest. "If
you don't mind..."

"I don't! I mean..." The young man flushed pink again,
and, to her astonishment, Yuki-onna found herself laughing; an
unfamiliar, happy sound. It was unlike anything she had ever
done, ever felt.

And it was wonderful.

The young man looked at her a moment in amazement. Then a
sheepish smile crept onto his face, and he began to chuckle
softly, joining in with her buoyant laughter. "Forgive me," he
said, "for not introducing myself properly. My name is Shin."

"And my name," said the Snow Woman, smiling happily, "is
Yuki."

Shin looked into her face with his summer sea-blue eyes.
"What a beautiful name..."

*****

"Masakazu, my dear friend, you came." Yuki walked carefully
from the doorway of the little house towards the edge of the
clearing, holding a tiny bundle to her breast.

The tengu stepped out of the shadows of the blossoming
cherry tree, his black eyes gleaming in the sunlight. **And how
could I stay away, when I could feel your joy all the way to the
Kami Plane?** He leaned over and Yuki held the bundle out for
him to see. **Ah, she is a beautiful child. She has your
eyes.**

Yuki smiled radiantly. "The day I married Shin, I thought I
could not be happier, and yet when she was born, I felt... I
don't know how to describe it. Like I wanted to weep all the
tears in the world, only without grief. I felt my heart would
burst with the feeling."

Masakazu nodded. **I understand.**

She looked down into the sleepy face of her infant daughter,
her eyes wet and shimmering. "How can you understand, Masakazu,
when I cannot comprehend it myself? Shin... and now my... my
daughter..."

Warm tears began to slip down her face, and even as she
smiled, something akin to pain flickered in her eyes. "Is this
how mortals feel with love?" she said softly. "How can they bear
it? It's such a... powerful, terrible emotion. And yet I... I
feel as if I would rather die than not have this feeling." She
glanced briefly at the tengu in sincere confusion. "How did I
ever exist without it?"

The tengu didn't answer. But a troubled expression
glimmered in his eyes as he watched the former Eternal cradling
her child.

**Your husband returns,** he said after a moment. **I must
leave.**

Yuki nodded distractedly, but smiled.

Masakazu tilted his head, as if listening, and a spark lit
in his eyes. **He seems very excited,** he said, amused. **He
is bringing you a gift.**

Yuki looked up at the tengu in mock dismay. "And now you've
spoiled the surprise," she said teasingly. "Be off with you."

Masakazu chuckled and bowed. **Until next time, my
friend.** And he disappeared in a blur of movement.

Shin emerged from the forest edge into the little clearing a
few moments later, carrying a large, awkward bundle wrapped in
rough cloth in his arms. He saw Yuki standing under the cherry
tree, the sun casting a dappling pattern of light and shadow
across her face, and his expression lit up with a smile tinged
with anxiousness.

"Yuki, you shouldn't be out walking so soon, it's only been
two days! You should be resting."

Yuki smiled as her husband quickly set his bundle down and
came to her, wrapping his arms protectively around her slender
form, his gaze torn between his wife and the infant she carried
in her arms.

"I'm fine, Shin," she said gently, leaning her head on his
chest. "Besides, the sun was so warm today, and the cherry
blossoms so fragrant, I wanted bring the baby outside to enjoy
it."

Shin nodded acceptance, enjoying the feel of his beautiful,
sweet wife and daughter, his family, in his arms. Then, he
released them and stepped back, grinning like an child on his
birthday. "I made something for you," he said, "for the baby."

"What is it?" asked Yuki, smiling at his excitement.

He knelt down and carefully unwrapped his large bundle.
Inside was a cradle, hewn carefully from a single piece of wood,
intricately carved with flowers and birds. A long-tailed phoenix
adorned the headboard.

"Oh," said Yuki, unable to say anything else, amazed again
at the wondrous ache that filled her.

"Do you like it?" Shin ran one hand through his dark
tousled hair and looked at her, his blue eyes anxious. "I
finished it this morning. I've been working on it since we found
out. The designs took the longest, I've never really done much
carving work..."

"It's beautiful, Shin," she whispered. "It's perfect."

The anxiety melted from Shin's face, and he beamed. He
stood and held her, kissing her gently on the forehead and
smoothing her silky black hair from her face softly with his
calloused fingers.

"Then I am happy," he said simply. And she knew that his
statement meant more than just the cradle, and her heart swelled.

"I love you, Shin."

*****

The snow fell softly outside, blanketing the twilight forest
in white, tinged orange from the setting sun. Yuki sat next to
the fire, watching the stew bubbling in the pot as she busily,
almost unconsciously hand sewed a lining of soft white rabbit fur
onto smooth tanned leather. The needle seemed to fly in her
slender hands, a single strong thread trailing behind the tiny
silver dagger as it pierced leather and fur, binding the two
together with perfect precision.

The door flew open, and two giggling, snow-covered bundles
of cloth and fur came tumbling through the doorway. The smaller
one stood and, without prelude, ran straight for Yuki, who barely
had enough time to set her sewing aside to catch the little girl
in her arms.

"Mommy, you should see what we made!"

"Haru, you're getting snow all over Mother. You'll get her
sewing wet." The older girl glared at her younger sister as she
carefully dusted the snow from her own clothing.

"It's all right, Natsu-chan, no harm done." Yuki smiled and
stood, holding the little girl in her arms. "What did you make,
Haru-chan?"

The little girl laughed as Yuki set her down by the door and
patiently began to unbundle her winter clothing. "Me an' Natsu
made a snow woman," she said.

Yuki froze a moment, her eyes widening slightly, before
continuing to unwrap her youngest daughter. "Did you really,"
she said hesitantly.

"You should see it, Mother," said Natsu excitedly,
forgetting for a moment that she was the mature older sister.
"We packed the snow tight and solid, just like you showed us, and
she's bigger than me!" She held her hand above her head to show
how tall her creation was. "Will you come see?"

"It's getting dark out," said Yuki distractedly. "Perhaps
tomorrow."

Natsu looked crestfallen, and Yuki smiled, reaching out to
smooth her elder daughter's dark hair. "It won't melt
overnight," she said soothingly. "I'll look at your snow
sculpture in the morning."

"All right, Mother." Natsu draped her wet clothing over a
railing by the fire and sniffed at the boiling pot. "Mmmm. It
smells good, Mother."

"We'll have supper as soon as your Father gets home." Yuki
draped Haru's wet clothing next to Natsu's, and bustled the
little girl over to her older sister. "In the meantime, change
into your nightclothes, girls."

"Yes, Mommy."

"Yes, Mother."

Shin returned home shortly, his cheeks flushed red from the
cold. As he stepped through the doorway, shaking snow from his
hair, Yuki greeted him in her special customary manner. Shin
flushed deeper from the pleasure of his wife's not-so-discreet
welcome, noting briefly that the girls were safely behind the
door of the larger room he had added to their small house. Their
muffled giggles as they prepared for bed seeped through the
wooden walls.

"If only I had known that this small measure of privacy
would allow you to greet me this way each day," he said, a
mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes as he wrapped his arms
around her, "I would have built that extra room long ago."

Yuki laughed, and 'welcomed' her husband again.

Later, when the girls were asleep, the couple sat in warm
silence by the fading embers of the fire. Yuki sat, humming
softly as she sewed, occasionally glancing up to find Shin paused
in his own whittling work, looking at her with a soft smile on
his face.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked when she looked up
to find him staring at her again.

"You," he said.

Yuki smiled and looked back at her sewing to hide the blush
that came so easily to her pale cheeks.

Shin smiled gently at her response. "It's strange," he
said, his gaze growing distant and thoughtful. "Sometimes, when
the firelight is low, and I look at you, I am reminded..."

He trailed off, and Yuki raised her head. "Of what?" she
asked.

Shin's blue eyes remained unfocused for a moment, but then
he blinked, shook his head, and looked down at the doll he was
carving. "Nothing," he said. "A dream I had long ago."

"Tell me of it," said Yuki as she resumed her careful
sewing. "You know how I enjoy hearing you tell of your dreams."

Shin sighed, and laughed a little. "Oh, it was so long ago,
years before I met you. Sometimes I think it fades from my
memory completely." He looked up at her contemplatively. "Yet
it's strange how clearly I remember it, especially on nights like
this, when the snow is falling... and I see you in the
firelight..."

"Mm?" Yuki tied a knot in the thread she was sewing with
and bit it off carefully with her teeth, holding up the little
coat a moment later to admire her handiwork. "What was it? Now
I'm curious."
His gaze became distant as he stared into the dying fire.
"Well, it was back when I was apprenticed to the old woodcutter,
Mitaga. It was a bitter cold winter, and firewood was scarce.
Mitaga and I had to go searching for a new cutting ground."
Shin's smile faded, and a troubled expression clouded his eyes.
"We were caught in a terrible storm. The snow was so heavy and
thick that we lost our way. After wandering for what seemed like
hours, with the cold seeping through our coverings and into our
skin and joints, we finally found an old abandoned hovel, and we
took shelter inside to wait out the blizzard. It kept out the
storm, but it couldn't keep out the cold..."

Yuki's hands went still. She looked up from her sewing
slowly, a hint of horror flickering in her frost-blue eyes as she
realized...

"It was cold... so cold..." Shin's voice was soft and low,
his gaze turned inward as he relived the memory. "We took turns
telling each other stories to try and keep ourselves awake,
afraid of falling asleep... It was no use. Mitaga was an old
man, and he closed his eyes in spite of my efforts to keep him
awake. But then, I think I must have fallen asleep too... for I
dreamed..."

No, said Yuki, but the pleading, terrified word was
voiceless, and Shin did not see her. Her hands felt numb, and
her vision darkened at the edges as her heart throbbed painfully
in her ears... She wanted to jump up and run to him, to tell him
to cease and not speak the words, but she couldn't move, couldn't
cry out... It had already begun...

"In my dream, the storm raging outside quieted. The door to
the hovel opened, and... a woman stood in the doorway. Her skin
and hair were white as the snow around her, and she was tall and
beautiful in a way that I knew immediately she could not be
human..."

*No...* Helpless tears filled Yuki's eyes, slipping down
her cheeks, her face contorting in grief as she felt the warm
rivulets turn suddenly cold against her skin...

"...She glided towards us without moving her feet. She
didn't spare me a glance, but knelt down next to Mitaga and
spread her white hands against the old man's chest. Soon, his
skin was the blue of frozen death."
Yuki felt light-headed as the blood fell from her face. But
no, it wasn't falling. It was leaving her all together,
disappearing and leaving her hollow. The cold tears were
freezing against her white face...

"Then she turned to me..." Shin took a deep breath, still
staring at the fading embers of fire. "I wish I could describe
the look on her face. I thought for a moment that she would...
would kill me as well, but she just knelt there and stared at me.
Even if I wanted to run, I couldn't have... My joints were too
frozen, I could already see the frost on my eyelashes, on the
skin of my cheeks... All that remained was her touch. I was
terrified, and I prepared myself to die...."

The freezing tears turned to ice, falling from Yuki's chin
in shining shards...

"And then..." A flicker of wonder worked its way across
Shin's face. "...her cold expression softened, and she almost
smiled. She reached out and touched my face with the tips of her
fingers, but instead of freezing me, I felt the cold being drawn
out of me, I felt my limbs thawing, the life flooding back into
them... Then she stood and spoke in a voice like wind on
crystal..."

Shin's clouded blue eyes lit with belated realization as he
gazed into the burning coals. "She... made me promise that I
would tell no one of how she came to me, and yet spared my life."
Shin closed his eyes against the heat emanating from the
fireplace.

"Ah..." he said quietly. "I had forgotten."

Yuki trembled in despair as her husband's unthinking words
shattered the last carefully crafted piece of her spell of
mortality. She felt herself shift and change, her humanity
sloughing from her like an old skin.

"And then she was gone, as silently as she came..." Shin
opened his eyes. "I think I woke up then, for it was suddenly
morning. The old man had frozen to death during the night, and I
was left with nothing but the strange dream..."

Silence.

"Shin..."

Now, the damage done, she was free to whisper his name with
her icy breath. Shin tore his gaze away from the embers, from the
memory, and turned to her, shivering.

His eyes widened as he saw her, tall and shimmering white,
standing where only moments before, a petite mortal woman with
flushed cheeks and thick black hair sat patiently sewing winter
clothing for her precious daughters.

"Not a dream," she whispered hoarsely, tears of ice brimming
in her frost-blue eyes and slipping down her face. "Not a
dream."

The doll and carving knife fell from Shin's limp hands.
"Yuki..?" His face filled with horrified realization.

Yuki-onna clenched her white fists in grief and anger as a
cry of despair escaped her throat. "You promised..." she said
softly. "You promised you would never tell... You swore an
oath... The power of your oath bound me here, allowed me to be
with you, to be your wife..."

Shin paled and reached out a trembling hand. "Yuki..."

Yuki-onna turned from him sharply, and found herself facing
the wall behind which her daughters slept. She shuddered
suddenly, and a thin, keening wail rose from her throat. "Oh, my
little ones..." she sobbed. "I've lost you..!" She turned back
to Shin, her smooth white face twisted in a rictus of grief.
"I've lost you all."

Shin's mind was numb, his senses reeling. He longed to
speak, to take back the words spoken in forgetfulness that had
undone his world, but it was too late, and a fear and grief
entirely unrelated to his wife's true supernatural nature filled
his soul with her words.

"You betrayed me," she said brokenly, looking up to see his
stricken face. "You betrayed your solemn oath. And now I am
forced to leave."

*Leave...* Shin desperately tried to stand, but found
himself frozen, unable to move his limbs. "No..." he said.
A shimmering portal opened up behind the Snow Woman, and she
backed towards it slowly, feeling the pull of the Kami Plane on
the other side. "Raise my children well, Shin." Her face was
frighteningly serene, in spite of the bright, crystalline tears
that continued to fall from her eyes unabated. "I swear to you
that if harm comes to them throughout their lives, I will come to
you in the storm. And I will not hesitate to complete what I
could not finish so long ago."

And as the portal swallowed her up, she saw him wrench
himself from his chair in a supreme effort of will against her
fading spell and stumble towards her, his arms outstretched, his
summer-sea blue eyes filled with unspeakable grief...

"Yuki..."

She heard his voice even as the mortal world faded from her.

"Don't leave me..."

*****

*Don't leave me...*

As the image faded from the mirror's surface, Yuki-onna felt
tears of ice slipping down her face once again.

"Oh Shin..."

Though her voice was a whisper, it was penetrating, as if
trying to reach back across the centuries, across the planes, to
reach the ears and heart of a long-dead mortal man.

"Shin, my beloved husband. Forgive me..."

--------------------

Ranma sat on a rock next to the blazing campfire and threw
another heavy log into the flames, sending sparks and ash
floating up into the night sky. He held his hands, palms
outward, toward the fire.

Nothing. The fire's warmth couldn't reach him.

He sighed, and glanced at the small tents that were pitched
around him, where his friends lay sleeping soundly. Too bad they
weren't sleeping *soundlessly.* He could hear Kuno's snores,
almost unmuffled by the heavy material of his tent.

He almost smiled. At least Kuno's snores were better than
listening to him rant on and on, bewailing the melancholy
attitude of his 'beloved pigtailed goddess.' Ranma had been
forced to put up with Kuno's constant lame and unwanted attempts
to comfort him, thinking that he was jealous, bewitched, etc.
The kendoist rambled non stop, saying that, though they were
going to rescue the beautiful, mysterious Akane Tendo from the
clutches of an evil dragon, 'she' should not fear that his love
and devotion for 'her' were any less.

Ranma snorted softly. *If only,* he thought. And if that
weren't enough, Kuno had somehow gotten it into his fool head
that he and Ryoga...

Ranma shuddered, not wanting to think about that. Every
time Kuno opened his mouth, Ranma ached to silence him with a
swift kick to the face. But if Kuno was unconscious, that meant
that someone would have to carry him, and that was a chore Ranma
didn't want to inflict either on himself or anyone else.

Well, at least Kuno's snores didn't seem to bother the
others. Less than two days into their journey, and they were
completely worn out from exhaustion, having hiked through
primitive virgin forests and over mountains that most of the
world didn't even know existed.

Ranma stood, dusting off his hands, and slowly walked up
the side of the steep hill next to the camp site. When he was
far outside the ring of warmth and light cast by the campfire, he
looked up into the clear night sky. His arms were straight at
his sides, in spite of the cold mountain wind that tugged at the
loose material of his shirt and pants, that whipped silken
strands of red hair about his face and rose goose bumps on the
skin of his slender arms. He didn't like the feel of folding his
arms across his chest, even for the sake of generating his own
warmth, since it only reminded him that he was stuck in his
cursed female body.

It had been a while since he'd seen so many stars. He'd
nearly forgotten how beautiful the sight was. How bright and
cold... and how small it made him feel. Back home, the lights
from Tokyo drowned out all but the brightest stars. But here, in
the pristine Chinese wilderness, the Milky Way stretched above
him, reaching out with glittering tendrils across the vast
blackness of space.

He felt the presence of someone silently climbing the hill,
coming up behind him.

"Hey Ranma."

"Ryoga." Ranma didn't tear his gaze away from the sky.

Ryoga walked up to him, his arms wrapped around his chest,
shivering. "What're you doing, you idiot? Aren't you cold?
You're gonna freeze if you don't come over by the fire."

Ranma snorted softly. "Doesn't matter. I can't feel the
heat anyway. This weird cold spell won't allow anything warm to
penetrate my aura."

"Oh." Ryoga lapsed into uncomfortable silence. "So... are
you cold all the time?"

"Not all the time. Just when I'm not moving around enough
to generate my own heat."

"Ah."

They both stared up at the stars.

"So... I've been meaning to ask you..." Ryoga cleared his
throat uneasily, and glanced over at Ranma with a touch of
apprehension. "Do... do you remember--"

"Yeah. I do."

Ryoga's teeth clicked shut on the question. "Oh."

Silence, except for the mournful wailing of the wind, the
crackling of the fire. The dark, rounded silhouettes of the
Chinese mountains surrounded them on all sides.

Ranma sighed, and glanced over at Ryoga. "So what are you
buggin' me for, huh? Aren't you freezing out here, away from the
fire? Why aren't you getting some sleep like the others? We've
got a long way to go tomorrow."

"Maybe I don't feel like sleeping," Ryoga said defensively.
"Unlike the rest of you, I'm used to traveling long distances
over rough terrain by foot. I'm not tired at all."

Ranma shrugged and looked back up at the sky. "Good for
you."

Ryoga clenched his teeth in frustration. "Come on, Ranma,
knock it off. Moping about like this... It isn't like you."

"Yeah, well, I guess you could say I haven't been myself
lately."

Ryoga scowled. "That's not funny, Ranma."

"Don't I know it."

Ryoga looked at Ranma. His friend's cursed female body
looked so pale and fragile in the starlight, in spite of the hard
look on his girl face... If he didn't know Ranma, or know of his
curse, he wouldn't have been able to tell the difference between
him and a real girl. The thought freaked him out. He couldn't
help but think of when Herb splashed Ranma with the Chiisuiton...
Then, like now, he couldn't stand the thought of Ranma trapped
forever as a girl. To lose his favorite sparring partner, the
only guy around who could give him a decent fight, to the
depression and despair that would inevitably follow such a
disaster...

Ryoga couldn't allow that to happen. Back when they fought
Herb, he had risked his own life, jumping into the collapsing
crevasse to retrieve the Kaisuifuu, the magical kettle that was
the only thing that could nullify the effects of the Chiisuiton.
The crevasse had closed on top of him, and he would have died,
were it not for his breaking point technique that allowed him to
blast his way out of the earth. But the danger was worth it,
just to see Ranma back to himself.

He couldn't do anything to help Ranma now. He hadn't been
able to help him when he was trapped in the Nekoken, and he
couldn't help him now with the cold spell. Not that he hadn't
tried. His head still swam with images of kanji, from reading
all those documents in Kintaro-sensei's library, trying to find a
cure...

"I can still feel it," Ranma said, his voice low,
interrupting Ryoga's train of thought.

Ryoga blinked, surprised that Ranma had spoken, unprompted
by a question. "What?"

Ranma's fists were clenched at his sides. "It's still
inside me, Ryoga. The... Nekoken. The cat soul. Whatever it is
that the Shadowcat put in me when I was just a kid. It's been
there inside me all this time, just waiting for me to... to freak
out..."

Ranma lowered his gaze from the sky and closed his eyes.
The knuckles of his delicate clenched hands were turning white.
"It's been inside me the whole time, Ryoga, and I never knew it.
But I know now. And I can recognize it now, because I
remember... I remember how I felt, how I... thought in the
Nekoken, and I can *feel* it inside me now. I know it for what
it is. And... it scares the hell out of me."

Ryoga stared at his friend, not knowing what to say in
response to such a... horrible revelation. "Ranma..."

"What if it rains? What if Shampoo turns into a cat, and
I..." Ranma trailed off and shuddered, unwilling to follow that
thought further. His hard expression saddened. "Akane," he
said softly, wistfully. "She could bring me out of it. She
could call me back, break the demon's link. Either her, or the
shock of changing with the curse. But Akane's not here, and I...
I'm *stuck.*"

This was bad. Ranma was afraid of falling into the Nekoken
again. And Ryoga couldn't blame him, since it seemed like a
total fluke that Ranma ever escaped from it in the first place,
but not without the cost of nearly dying from the severe ki drain
exacted from him by the demon. But still...

"You worry too much, Ranma," he snapped. "So what if it
rains? If Shampoo turns into a cat, I'm sure she'll stay away
from you until she can turn back. And we're on our way to rescue
Akane, so she'll be back soon, right? Then everything will be
fine."

Except, you'll still be a girl, he didn't add.

He didn't have to say anything. He could see, by the way
Ranma glanced down at himself, that his friend was thinking the
same thing.

Ranma was silent a moment. "Yeah," he said. "I guess
you're right. Shampoo wouldn't come around me as a cat now,
would she."

Ryoga nodded. "That's right. I know. I was with her and
Mousse all week. She really wants to make up for casting the
blood spell."

Ranma turned and looked down the hill towards the camp, lit
by the flickering light of the campfire. There were four tents
pitched; one for Kuno, one shared by Nabiki and Ukyo, one shared
by him and Ryoga... and one shared by Shampoo and Mousse. "I
still can barely believe that they're actually engaged," he
muttered. "But I guess it means I'm really off the hook. It's
kind of strange, with her not jumping on me and calling me
'husband' all the time. Not that I'm complaining or anything..."

Ryoga grunted agreement, following Ranma's gaze. "Yeah...
Those Amazon laws are pretty weird. It didn't look like Shampoo
was too happy about it to begin with, but the past week, when we
were all going through those manuscripts, she really seemed to
soften up towards him. I think it's because she feels so bad
about the blood spell, and Mousse doesn't condemn her for it. He
just encourages her to make things right."

"Good." Ranma looked out across the uneven valley, scanning
the dark forest that they'd crossed earlier that evening. His
eyes narrowed suddenly, and he reached out and pointed into the
darkness beyond the campsite. "Look at that, Ryoga. Do you see
that?"

Ryoga glanced over at Ranma, puzzled, then followed the
direction of his finger out into the darkness. At first he
didn't see anything. But then, as he squinted, he saw it: a
thin, gray tendril of smoke threading up through the trees
further down in the valley. "Yeah," he said. "So?"

"So who's building a fire all the way out here in the middle
of nowhere?"
Ryoga raised an eyebrow. During the past two days, he had
noticed that, every now and then, Ranma would cast worried
glances over his shoulder; that sometimes he would freeze for no
reason and look piercingly around at the trees... but he figured
it was just a bit of eccentricity left over from the Nekoken.
"Jeeze, Ranma," he said, "you're acting paranoid. It could be
anyone. Somebody from a local village is probably just out
camping or something."

Ranma shook his head. "Nope. Shampoo said that there are
no human inhabitants in these mountains, and that the villagers
stay away because they're afraid of the demons that are supposed
to live here," he said matter-of-factly.

Ryoga felt an uneasy sensation building in his stomach.
"Which means?"

"Which means we're being followed."

Ryoga looked sharply over at Ranma. "What? Are you
serious?"

Ranma glared out into the darkness. "Yup. That's her, I'm
sure of it. I've only sensed the occasional presence here and
there, and sometimes I'll catch a glimpse of movement, but now
I'm pretty sure it's Cologne. She's followed us here from
Japan."

Ryoga paled. "Cologne? No way! Are you sure?" When Ranma
nodded, Ryoga's eyes widened. "What do you think she's up to?"

Ranma continued to look at the thin, almost invisible line
of smoke. "I have no idea. I mean, what can she do, now that I
know about her whole plan? And we've even got Shampoo on our
side. But right now, she's either being careless, or she doesn't
care that we know about her. She didn't dare show her face when
I was in the Nekoken, 'cause I could sense her then, and she knew
I wanted to tear her to pieces. My guess is that now that I'm...
back... she's gonna try something to keep us from rescuing
Akane."

A burst of cold wind whipped down the canyon, making them
both shiver. "So what are we gonna do?" asked Ryoga, trying not
to chatter as a few tiny, stinging snowflakes touched the skin
of his face.
Snow?

Ryoga looked up at the clear sky. Strange... Where had
that come from?

"We need to keep our eyes open," said Ranma. "Don't let
down your guard. We'll talk to Shampoo in the morning, and see
if she can help us prepare for anything the old ghoul might throw
at us. Even then, we've got to be ready for anything, since the
old ghoul probably won't attack us with anything that Shampoo
knows how to counter."

"Sounds like... a good... idea..." Ryoga blinked slowly,
and looked down at his tent, feeling suddenly drowsy. Perhaps it
was time he got some sleep. After all, they did have a long way
to go tomorrow, and with Cologne lurking around, he needed to be
alert. He tried to stifle a huge yawn, but couldn't... quite...
manage... it. He found himself swaying slightly. He was so
tired all of a sudden...

"Ryoga?" Ranma was looking at him curiously. "Are you
okay?"

Ryoga's eyelids felt like leaden weights. "I'm fine,
Ranma," he said, as he sagged abruptly to his knees. "I'm just a
little sleepy..."

Ranma knelt down next to him, his blue eyes in his girl face
wide with alarm as he grabbed Ryoga's shoulders to keep him from
falling over. "Hey, what's wrong with you? Don't fall asleep
here, you idiot!"

Ryoga responded by slumping forward onto Ranma's chest.
"Hey... Hey!" Ranma shoved him back, but Ryoga's head just
lolled as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. A moment
later, his eyelids slipped shut.

"Ryoga!" Ranma's angry voice held a touch of fear. "Wake
up, idiot! What's going on, what's wrong with you?! Wake up!"
Ranma slapped him hard across the face once, then twice, leaving
his small, bright red hand print on each of the Lost Boy's
cheeks.

Ryoga began to snore softly.

"Ryoga..." Ranma looked at his slumbering friend in dismay
and anger. Was Cologne behind this..?

And he felt a familiar warning tingle...

He turned, dropping the unconscious Ryoga to the ground,
crouching into a fighting stance...

The Snow Woman looked down at him, her cold, cracked white
face expressionless.

"Hello Ranma," she said softly. "We meet again."

--------------------

End of Part Sixteen