Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Hearts of Ice ❯ Confrontations ( Chapter 18 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

The characters of the Ranma 1/2 universe are the sole creation
and possession of the brilliant Rumiko Takahashi.

------------------------------------------------
He arts of Ice
Part 18: Confrontations
by Krista Perry
------------------------------------------------


Bu zzing.

A high, constant buzzing in his mind, making his head ache,
making it hard to think.

*Ranma, please...*

And pain. White hot spears of pain impaling his chest,
immobilizing him with agony.

*...can't you hear me?*

And then there was that voice, of course. A woman's voice,
faint, full of fear, and vaguely familiar. The voice tickled the
back of his mind like a cold, clear breeze trying ineffectually
to pierce through the fiery haze of pain, the high buzzing in his
head that wanted to drown it out completely.

*...please, Ranma, come to your senses..!*

Everything was dark. He felt disconnected even in his
agony, ensnared in the twilight just on the edge of
consciousness. He needed to wake up. And yet he couldn't
remember falling asleep...

*Ranma...* A despairing sob. It called to him so
faintly... he wanted to answer it, but...

"Ranma."

To his surprise, the voice sounded right in his ear.

No. This voice was new, different. A *real* voice, full of
warmth and concern, unlike the cool, indistinct cry that
fluttered against the back of his consciousness...
"Ranma, are you awake?"

And Ranma realized that he knew this real voice. He was
filled with sudden hope, in spite of the strange pain in his
chest and the buzzing in his mind. With a surge of joy, he moved
instinctively towards the new voice...

And in doing so, he left the faint, desperate, despairing
whisper behind, calling after him in vain until at last it faded
completely, like the last traces of some forgotten dream...

The cold, clammy darkness gradually faded. He saw the red
of sunlight against his closed eyelids, felt its warmth against
the skin of his face and arms.

"Ranma?"

His eyes opened slowly, groggily, and he winced against the
brightness. Even so, he forced his eyes open, anxious to see her
face, to make sure she was real and that he wasn't imagining
things.

The sunlight streaming through the window behind her formed
a perfect halo around her short dark hair. In her shadowed face,
he could see her liquid brown eyes shimmering, even as her brow
creased in uncharacteristic worry as she looked down at his prone
form.

A weak smile crept across his face, and he inhaled slowly --
a task made difficult because of the strange spikes of pain
piercing his chest.

"Akane," he breathed.

Her heart-shaped face lit briefly with a smile of relief.
But then, to Ranma's intense disappointment, the smile was
quickly smothered by a look of mild irritation.

"Baka," she said quietly, but her tone was affectionate as
she reached out to touch his forehead. His eyes followed the
movement of her small, yet strong hand, and he awaited her touch
against his skin with a strange anxiety, almost a painful
anticipation. Instead of the light touch of her fingers,
however, he felt a damp, cool cloth slide away from his forehead.

What was going on? The last thing he remembered, he was in
the middle of... of...

Ranma frowned, his brow furrowing as his mind refused to
yield up the memory. He was... what? Doing something important,
something urgent...

The memories and images were there, just on the tip of his
mind, yet maddeningly out of reach. He knew that if only he
could focus enough, concentrate over the pain and the weakness,
he would have it. He would understand how he had come to be
here, in his room staring up at the rafters of his ceiling,
incapacitated with agony...

Still, Akane was here tending to him, as she always did when
he was injured. At times like this, he strongly suspected that
she enjoyed seeing him flat on his back, helpless. Still, though
he would never admit it in a million years, he almost kind of
liked it when she took care of him... except when a surprise
visit from Shampoo, Ukyo, or both aroused her anger. Under those
circumstances, he knew it was better for his health to be as far
from Akane's "ministering hands" as possible...

But how did he get here anyway? He remembered going to
school that morning... Akane punching him into the drainage ditch
just because he was wondering where Shampoo had been all week...
holding buckets in the halls... going to the Nekohanten and
finding it closed with Shampoo and the old ghoul gone, and Mousse
left behind...

A flicker of... something... a brief image of Shampoo...
flashed into his mind so quickly...

But it made no sense. It was like the memory of some
long-faded dream. Shampoo was kneeling before him, crying. Her
apron was stained with blood... and he had something... a
cassette tape... in his hands... and he was *so* angry...

What the hell did that mean?

Aughh, he *hated* this! Why couldn't he remember what had
happened to him?

Angrily, he tried to sit up. But the sharp pain in his
chest surged with his slight movement, causing him to gasp at its
intensity as it seared his insides and stole his breath away.
Jeeze, it felt as if someone had driven a dozen thick nails into
his chest...

"Ranma!" Akane cried out in alarm.

Ranma's vision glazed briefly as he struggled for focus,
tears of pain pricking in the corners of his eyes. He wanted to
ask Akane what had happened to him, why did he hurt so bad, and
why was his head buzzing so strangely? But the pain in his chest
caused the air to leak from his lungs in a wordless hiss, and he
crumpled back onto the futon with a quiet moan.

Akane stared at him, her eyes wide and frightened. One hand
reached out to him anxiously, yet she didn't touch him, as if
afraid that by so doing, she would hurt him even more.

Ranma blinked at her, trying to focus over the pain.

"Are..." Akane swallowed. "Are you okay?"

He hated to see her so worried. He nodded, since it hurt
too much to speak, and gave her a rather faded version of his
cocky smirk.

Akane sighed heavily, a bit of the tension draining from her
face, and dipped the wash cloth into a bowl of water next to the
futon. "Baka," she said, somewhat irritably. "What do you think
you're doing, trying to sit up already?" She looked into his
face briefly, her brown eyes flickering, but then she dropped her
gaze to the water basin next to her. "You need to rest. You're
still running a high fever, and you're in no shape to be moving
around yet."

Ranma closed his eyes and focused over the white hot spears
in his chest, trying to deepen his dangerously shallow breathing.

*Still running a fever... Am I sick? I never get sick.
Unless... Did Happosai give me that super-cold of his again?*

He heard the tinkling rattle of ice in the bowl, followed by
the rushing sound of falling water as Akane wrung the cloth of
excess moisture. A moment later, the cold cloth was on his
forehead again.

His chest hurt, and he couldn't seem to shake the buzzing in
his head. But that was a minor thing. He could focus over the
pain. He had to know what was going on. He had no idea how he'd
come to be in this condition, and he felt anger and frustration
over his helplessness building within him.

He opened his eyes and saw Akane watching him, the
irritation on her face warring with obvious distress. Ranma felt
his frustration fade slightly. For some reason, the sight of her
made him want to just relax and allow his questions to wait. She
was by his side, she would take care of him, and then when he was
feeling better, she could tell him what had happened...

The buzzing in his mind droned on, gradually building in
intensity.

Ranma grimaced. No. In spite of the strong temptation to
just relax and sink back into unconsciousness with Akane watching
over him... he couldn't shake the urgent nagging feeling that
told him he needed to be awake and alert, that he needed to
clarify his fuzzy memory and find out why he felt as if...

...as if...

"Akane..." It hurt to talk. It hurt to *breathe.* He
hated this. He had to find out what was going on. "What..?"

"Quiet." Her voice was sharp, but then her expression
softened, and with it, her tone. "Don't... don't talk, okay?
You'll only make it worse."

Ranma was incredulous, and yet the pain prevented him from
voicing his retort. *Make *what* worse?* he thought in
frustration. *What the hell happened to me?*

He closed his eyes briefly. *Focus. You've felt worse pain
before... can't remember exactly when at the moment, but that
doesn't matter...

*Focus...

*Okay. Better.* The strange spikes of pain in his chest
ebbed slightly with his concentration.

Now breathe. "Akane..."
Akane gave him a warning glare. "Ranma, if you don't
cooperate, I'm going to call Doctor Tofu."

"But--"

"No," she said firmly. "Now be still. Otherwise, you won't
get better."

"Dammit, Akane..." No way was he just gonna lay there
without knowing what was going on. Especially since his urgency
instinct was practically screaming at him. Carefully, he pushed
himself up with his elbows. The pain lanced through him, sharper
than before, and he clenched his teeth against a cry of pain that
wanted to escape.

"Ranma, stop it." Akane's voice had gone from firm to hard
as stone, and her tone matched her gaze.

"No way." Ranma's voice was a wheeze, the pain was almost
unbearable, but still he continued to push himself into a sitting
position. He could feel himself trembling, his eyes were
watering uncontrollably, but he focused over it all. "Not until
you tell me--"

At that moment, everything changed.

In a flash, Akane was gone, as was his warm sunlit room. He
was shrouded in darkness. A cold, thick mist plucked at his skin
with moist tendrils. And he found himself staring into he face
of...

...of...

The face was gone. Or rather, there was almost nothing left
of it. A few scraps of rotting skin and stringy clumps of long
black hair clinging to an exposed, decaying skull. One watery,
dissolving eye stared at him from a hollow socket.

And Ranma felt someone behind him. Someone who was pressed
against his back, who had their arms wrapped tightly around his
torso, almost in the attitude of a lover...

Looking down in numb horror, Ranma saw dead, gray arms
holding him in a firm embrace; saw skeletal, ghostly fingers
plunged through his red Chinese shirt... and into his chest...
...but before he could scream, the living corpse standing
before him lashed out with a rotting hand...

Sunlight flashed in his eyes.

"Ranma!" Akane's face was pale, her eyes full of fear as
she grasped his shoulders, pinning him down to his futon as he
thrashed against her. "What's wrong? Please, lie still, you'll
hurt yourself!"

Akane. Akane shouldn't be here. She had disappeared with
the blood spell... He was trying to get her back...

*He* shouldn't be here, at home, in his room. He was in
China. On the mountain of the Ancient One. Fighting demons.

He remembered.

And the strange high buzzing in his head slowed. Slowed
until he realized that it wasn't a buzz at all, but... voices.

*Akane is alive... You'll never find her, you'll fail, you
already have...*

Spell voices.

And though Akane's hands appeared healthy and human, he
could feel the slime of rot and the hardness of exposed bone
against the flesh of his shoulders. He snarled, fighting against
the daggers of pain in his chest. "G-get your hands off me, you
dead bitch..."

She held him more tightly, even as her beautiful brown eyes
filled with tears and her lips trembled. "Doctor Tofu!" she
called. "Come quick, Ranma's hallucinating again! Please
hurry!"

Hallucinating... Was he hallucinating? It couldn't be. He
*knew...*

"Ranma, please, listen to me! It's the poison. Kodachi
slipped something into your food, but she mixed up her powders or
something, 'cause you've been delirious for three days, muttering
about dragons and blood spells and stuff. But it's not real!"
Akane was crying. "Please, snap out of it, Ranma!"
And the feel of Akane's strong grip was once again warm and
smooth and human against his shoulders.

Ranma blinked, his eyes glazed in pain and confusion. He'd
been drugged? He was hallucinating?

Akane... wasn't missing? She wasn't trapped in the Kami
Plane?

She was really here... with him?

Ranma paused in his struggle as a surge of uncertainty
flooded through him.

Akane felt him pause, but still she held onto him, grasping
his tensed shoulders. "Ranma," she whispered. "Please believe
me."

He wanted to believe her. Very badly.

The blood spell, the demons... the Nekoken... all the pain
and suffering... nothing more than a drug-induced hallucination?

He looked into Akane's tear-streaked face.

She was so beautiful. And something whispered to him that
if only he would trust her, if only he would relax, the drug
would pass from his system and he would recover, his mind would
clear, and things could be like they were before...

*...before the blood spell...*

As the thought flitted through his mind, he suddenly
remembered another Akane, looking a little different than the one
that knelt next to him now. Her hair was inexplicably a bit
longer, falling to her shoulders, but he remembered thinking that
it might be a side-effect of the blood spell. He saw her in his
mind's eye, surrounded by glittering walls of ice, reaching out
to him, calling to him...

Telling him that she loved him.

And he loved her.

Ranma blinked, fighting to clear his pain-fogged mind.
All of his realizations, his soul searching, his honesty
with himself about his own feelings... nothing more than a
drug-induced hallucination?

*No...*

It couldn't be. The thought that it might be true left him
stunned with despair. And yet here he was, with Akane right next
to him, kneeling over him in concern... shouldn't he be happy?

As Ranma fought through the haze of his inner confusion, the
spikes of pain pierced deeper into his chest, and he cried out.

Doctor Tofu burst into the room, followed closely by Nabiki,
Kasumi and Genma.

"Akane, what happened?" Tofu demanded.

"I don't know," she said tearfully, not letting go of
Ranma's shoulders. "He started trying to get up and then he just
went crazy."

Ranma struggled to focus. Focus over the pain, focus over
the insanity... He had to know what was true!

Doctor Tofu approached him. Ranma watched him with tearing
eyes, focusing desperately through his pain and confusion as the
man he trusted knelt next to him...

As he focused, the sunlight flickered.

And so did his friends' humanity.

Tofu, Kasumi, Nabiki, his father... Akane... their images
flickered with those of corpses, reaching out to him with
decaying arms... He was being surrounded by the dead. And he
could feel cold dead arms still wrapped around him, feel the
ghostly fingers in his chest...

Akane's hands were slime and bone against the skin of his
shoulders.

*This isn't Akane..!*

It's the drug, something whispered to his mind. Only the
drug. My, Kodachi certainly got carried away this time...

"Hold him." Tofu's kind, concerned face looked down at him
as the rest of his friends pinned him down. "I'll touch his
sleep points and end this."

He reached out to Ranma's throat with a hand that flickered
between whole, healthy skin and grey, rotting flesh.

"No." Ranma's voice was a hoarse rasp through his pain. He
strained against the hands that held him down, looked around
desperately, seeing the concerned faces of his loved ones...
Akane, Kasumi, Nabi--

Kasumi. He looked at her, met her calm gaze. She smiled at
him gently, encouragingly, as if to say that everything would be
all right.

Ranma's eyes narrowed, and he glared at Doctor Tofu.

"No," he whispered fiercely. "*I'll* end this."

And Ranma's battle aura flared an intense bright red around
his prone form.

Tofu's outstretched hand paused. Akane and the others
abruptly released him and shrank back. "W-what are you doing?"
she asked, a bit fearfully.

Focus past the pain. "Gonna... release a ki blast." He
couldn't look at her. He didn't dare, out of fear that the sight
of her tear-streaked face would crumble his sudden resolve. "So
you'd... better stand... back if you don't want... to get hurt."

Tofu was alarmed. "Ranma, don't do this. You're in no
shape to--"

"Sorry, doc." Ranma clenched his teeth. Focus. *Focus.*
"Way I see it... if you're my friends... you'll know to trust me
and... get out of the way. If you're demons... I don't care if
you let me go... or stay and get blasted. Either way... I'm
gonna know the truth."

"This is insane. Ranma, please... There *are* no demons,
it's just the poison in your system..."
Ranma's ki flared more brightly.

"You're sick. You don't want to hurt your friends, do you?
You wouldn't hurt Akane, would you?"

"Ranma, please!" Akane's voice tugged at him, but he didn't
look at her.

Instead, he looked at Tofu, focused above the pain, and
grinned slightly. "Mouko..." he whispered.

The sunlight disappeared, plunging him into cold moist
darkness. Doctor Tofu and the others... Akane... shimmered and
changed into decaying, wraith-like corpses. They hissed and
shrieked as they swiftly backed away from him, shrinking away
from the power of his ki, retreating into the black mist.

He was standing. Looking down at his brightly flaring body,
Ranma saw ghostly fingers withdrawing hastily from his chest.
The dead arms released his torso and slid away... and the pain
vanished.

Ranma blinked in surprise, his glazed eyes clearing as the
last traces of the spell trance that held him faded away. Then,
with a snarl of fury, he straightened and whirled to face the
wraith that had just released him, his hands held palm outward
before him.

"...Takabishya!" he finished.

The ki exploded from the palms of his hands, hitting the
wraith dead on. The creature shrieked and disappeared in a flash
of light.

Ranma stood, panting slightly as he looked around, his
senses extended, tensed and ready for another attack.

The multitude of dead watched him from a safe distance in
their shroud of mist.

A trickle of cold sweat ran down the side of his cheek.
Damn. That had been close. They nearly had him. They had
surrounded him with the people he loved and trusted the most so
that he would be content to remain in the wraith-trance until he
wasted away.
If he hadn't noticed Tofu's uncharacteristic calm competence
in the presence of Kasumi...

"Very clever, boy," a voice rasped. Ranma turned to see one
of the dead leering at him from the darkness. Grim intelligence
flickered in yellowed, bloodshot eyes that had not yet begun to
decay. The crumbling face smirked. "But don't get too
confident. We are not demons, but mere Kuei. If you were snared
by us, the weakest of the guardians, you don't stand a chance
against what lies ahead."

A ripple of sardonic laughter echoed around him from the
other demented souls. Ranma clenched his teeth and focused his
ki until his hands were glowing red with it. The dead
instinctively shrank back, wary of the power he now wielded
openly in his hands, knowing that he would not be caught again.

Ranma turned and began to make his way up the mountain once
again, following the narrow trail that wound its way up the
incline through the mist.

*If you were snared by us, the weakest...*

His jaw ached, his teeth were clenched so tight. Damn. How
could he have been so careless?

But then, he knew how. The scene replayed itself in his
mind with merciless clarity.

Upon entering the mists at the base of the Ancient One's
mountain, he had found himself immediately surrounded by Kuei.
He knew of them, knew what they were from stories he'd heard on
his previous trip to China. They were the Vengeful Ghosts, the
souls of those who had perished in some unspeakably violent
manner; their single purpose: to make the living suffer as they
suffered.

Ugly as they were, the stench of their rotting wraith bodies
assailing his senses, they were almost unbearably easy to defeat.
Ranma moved through them swiftly, fighting them back, his body
aflame with his carefully controlled battle aura, adrenaline
thrumming through his veins.

He fought, and felt the pleasure of the heady rush of
battle, the feel of his body moving with powerful, instinctive
ease through the forms of the Art that had been ingrained into
his very soul... Ranma felt the flame of his confidence, that
had been crushed out through the events of the past few weeks,
reignite in his heart with searing heat, burning away the shadows
of his doubt. He found himself smiling grimly as the Kuei fell
back from the onslaught of his attack.

He was Ranma Saotome, heir to the Saotome School of
Indiscriminate Grappling Martial Arts. Shampoo had been worried
for nothing. He could take this mountain, and anything on it,
easy!

And then, the voice.

A voice, so full of anguish, terror and despair... It
called his name.

Ranma recognized the voice, would have recognized it
anywhere in the world. It pulled at his soul the way nothing
else could. In mid-battle, surrounded by Kuei, he paused. And
turned towards the sound, her name forming on his lips...

She wasn't there, of course. There was only mist. Mist,
and more Kuei, reaching out for him with cold, dead arms. And as
his mind screamed *Idiot!* as he realized his mistake, it was
already too late. His guard down for a mere split second, his
defenses were breached with inhuman speed and he felt himself
grabbed from behind...

Damn.

He couldn't allow himself to be deceived again. He wouldn't
allow them to use her as a distraction. No matter what illusions
were thrown his way, he could not... *would* not succumb. For,
he knew, she wasn't here. There was no way she *could* be here.
The blood spell kept them apart, separated by dimensions, and if
he let himself be fooled again...

He would not be fooled again. He had to reach the Ancient
One.

He had to get Akane back.

The mocking voice of the leering dead man followed behind
him, echoing up out of the black mists.
"You'll see, boy," it called. "You are on your noble quest
now, but you'll be joining us soon enough, one way or another.
You will die, slowly, painfully, as we all did, and your soul
will be trapped here, forever, at the base of this cursed
mountain. You will join us. And when the next poor fool tries
to climb the mountain, it shall be you who will sink your ghostly
fingers into mortal flesh; it shall be you who will take pleasure
in feeling their life slip away..."

Ranma shook with anger and barely suppressed fear. He
wanted to turn and silence the voice with a blast of ki from his
hands. But he had to conserve his energy. He could feel the
evil ahead of him, much stronger than what he was leaving behind.

Damn. That had been too close...

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

The Snow Woman sighed heavily, the frost slowly vanishing
from her mirror. As the frost melted away, so did the image of
the mortal realm, of Ranma continuing up the mist-shrouded
mountain of the Ancient One.

Finally. She had nearly given up hope when Ranma hadn't
responded to her telepathic plea across the dimensions as she
desperately called to him, fighting to free him from the Kuei
trance...

But Ranma was free now. And, to her amazement, he had freed
himself from the trance under his own power. Such strength of
spirit, even after all he had suffered! Yuki-onna turned from
her mirror, reaching up with one hand to brush a few strands of
shimmering white hair from her face, her expression both relieved
and troubled. He would need that strength for what lay before
him.

She would not tell Akane of this new development, of course.
Akane knew nothing of Ranma's progress up the mountain of the
Ancient One. Akane didn't know that, for the past three weeks
whenever Yuki-onna had used her mirror to scry on her fiance's
progress, the image that greeted her eyes remained unchanged.

Ranma, slumped in the deadly embrace of a Kuei, his blue
eyes glassy, staring sightlessly from under heavy lids, his face
slack and pale as he slowly weakened, slowly wasted away...
No. Akane didn't know about Ranma's close call. She didn't
know of anything that had transpired in the mortal realm after
the bleeding mists of the Ancient One's mountain swallowed Ranma
whole. And it was just as well. It was a mutual agreement
between the two of them, that Akane should not know how Ranma
fared.

At first, Akane had been furious at her suggestion that she
remain in the dark regarding Ranma's welfare. "Why won't you let
me see him?" she had yelled, her expression both angry and
pleading. "I have a right to know how he's doing, if he's safe
or not..."

"I do not think that is wise, Akane," she replied softly,
imploring her to understand. Though the girl had suffered a
great deal during her time in the Kami Plane, she was still young
and inexperienced in some things. She had no idea what kind of
torture lay in store for her, should she choose to use her mirror
to track Ranma's progress.

Her own frost-blue eyes grew clouded and distant for a
moment, remembering a long forgotten memory reborn, an unwanted
vision of pain bestowed upon her from her iced mirror...

Her husband, Shin, his face twisted with grief, tears
streaking his cheeks as he tried ineffectually to comfort his two
young daughters. He held the girls, gently stroking their hair
as they clung to him, weeping loudly, begging to know where
Mother was, why she had left them, why she didn't love them any
more...

That single image had haunted her mirror for months.

"Time moves so slowly in the mortal realm," Yuki-onna
whispered hoarsely. "A moment there lasts hours, days, even
weeks here. What if something happened to Ranma? What if, while
fighting demons, he were injured? Could you bear it, seeing him
frozen in pain day after day, unable to do anything but watch
helplessly?"

And Akane's anger had drained away as she realized, with
something akin to horror, that the Snow Woman was right. Seeing
Ranma suffer in real-time was hard enough, but to watch a single
brief moment of agony, stretched out over weeks? Seeing whatever
danger that Ranma might be in, and yet being completely powerless
to do anything at all to help him? Even though she felt sure
that he would eventually triumph, the doubt she would feel during
that infinitely long moment would be there, gnawing at her heart
-- the fear that something *might* go terribly wrong...

"Will you... watch over him then?" Akane asked. Her voice
trembled, in spite of her effort to sound casual. "You don't
have to tell me what's happening... but I would feel better,
knowing that... that..." Her throat closed off, and she bowed
her head, unable to continue.

"I will watch over him, Akane. And I will do what I can to
keep him safe."

Akane nodded once, not raising her head, and she brushed at
her eyes with the back of one hand. Her fingers came away wet.

"One request," she finally whispered. "If he... if
anything..." Akane paused, took a deep breath. "If... the worst
happens..." She lifted her head and met Yuki-onna's frost blue
gaze, her own eyes wet, but determined. "I want you to tell me.
I don't want that kept from me."

Yuki-onna smiled sadly and placed her hand on Akane's
shoulder. "Agreed."

So, in spite of almost unbearable curiosity about Ranma's
welfare and progress up the mountain, Akane stayed far away from
Yuki-onna's mirror. She kept herself busy doing other things;
exactly what, Yuki-onna wasn't sure. She knew that a portion of
Akane's time went to defending her realm from demonic invasion.
But the demons had been coming less and less, it seemed, cowed by
both the knowledge that Akane had returned, stronger than ever,
and some demented spark of self-preservation that pierced their
dim intellects.

Yuki-onna didn't mind anything Akane did, as long as it kept
her from dwelling on Ranma. As long as it kept her sane until
the blood spell could be broken and she could return to him--

**Snow Woman.**

Yuki-onna jerked, her eyes widening at the unexpected
telepathic intrusion. The mental voice was powerful, deep and
raw, tinged with dark amusement... and vaguely familiar. She
frowned. **Who--**

**An old friend.** She could hear the cruel smile in the
voice. **Don't tell me you've forgotten our time together
already. I'm hurt.**

The Snow Woman felt her heart tighten with sudden
unspeakable dread. No... It couldn't be...

And then she felt it.

A prickling at the edges of her realm, a sudden dark
smothering sensation in her chest...

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

"What... is *that?*" Kazuo raised a bristly white eyebrow,
his nose wrinkling slightly as Akane cheerfully placed a heaping
plate of... something... in front of him.

Akane smiled smugly, ignoring the blue-skinned ice sprite's
sudden grayish pallor. "It's rice, octopus balls, and shrimp
tempura. Don't worry, everything's completely cooled. It won't
burn you at all."

Kazuo pushed the plate away with one finger. "That's *not*
what I'm worried about."

Akane frowned, but managed to squelch the spark of her anger
that wanted desperately to flare up in response to the Ranma-like
insult. Two and a half years of being on her own, during which
she had been forced to eat her own cooking, however, had dulled
the razor edge of her righteous indignation. Necessity had been
an unmerciful sensei, and during that time of isolation, she
*had* managed to master rice... more or less.

Okay, so her attempts at creating more... exotic food...
were still miserable failures. She had finally gained a small
appreciation of why Ranma had always been so reluctant to eat her
more enthusiastic creations. Still, now that she once again had
access to the Snow Woman's food-laden pantry, and had a chance to
practice a bit more...

"You haven't even tried it yet," she said with remarkable
calmness.
Kazuo didn't blink. "Have *you* tasted it?"

"Well, no, but--"

"Akane-san." Kazuo eyed her with level seriousness. "I
have already informed you on several occasions that I refuse to
sample your dubious culinary experiments until after you have
tasted them yourself, and only then after I am sure there are no
lingering side effects."

Akane exhaled a sigh that was almost a huff. "Fine then."
She knelt across from Kazuo, tossed her thick braid over her
shoulder, and pulled the plate towards her. "I'll prove it to
you, if you insist on being that way." Picking up her
chopsticks, she scooped up a blob of rice and stuck it in her
mouth.

She chewed.

Swallowed.

Kazuo watched her face carefully.

Akane smiled brightly and pushed the plate back over to
Kazuo. "See? It tasted fine. Now eat it."

"So the rice is passable. You didn't try the octopus balls.
Or the shrimp."

Akane's smile became a bit strained, and she pulled the
plate back over with slightly more force than she intended. Some
of the rice spilled over onto the table. "You're being a pain,
you know," she said, annoyance creeping into her tone as she
picked up her chopsticks.

"I'd much rather *be* a pain than be *in* pain."

Akane's strained smile melted into an outright scowl, and
she picked up a rather dribbly-looking octopus ball. She stared
at Kazuo defiantly as she popped it into her mouth whole.

Her eyes immediately began to water uncontrollably as every
instinct in her body screamed to disgorge the alien object
attempting hostile invasion. Conscious of Kazuo's gaze, however,
she summoned all of her will power, fought the instinct back...
and chewed.

Kazuo watched her face in open fascination, and a little
concern, as sweat began to streak down her forehead. Her skin
had turned the faint color of pistachio pudding. "Akane-san..."

She began to tremble as, with supreme effort, she continued
chewing, her jaw working up and down frenetically. Finally, with
a deep, primal shudder, she swallowed.

A sickly smile made its way across her face, even as tears
streamed from her bleary eyes. "See?" she croaked triumphantly.
"No prob-- *hurk* --lem." With a shaky hand, she pushed the
plate back across the table.

Kazuo looked at her mournfully. "Do you really hate me that
much, Akane-san?"

Akane didn't immediately respond, focused, as she was, on
controlling the roiling in her stomach. She swallowed hard once,
twice... and briefly shook her head "no" since she didn't dare
open her mouth to speak.

Kazuo sighed. "Would you... like me to get something to
settle your stomach?"

Akane looked at him, her pistachio-tinged face suddenly
etched with undisguised misery as she continued to swallow, her
hands white knuckled as she clenched the edge of the table with
both fists, and nodded.

A short while and a few of Kazuo's special herbs later,
Akane knelt at the table and stared at the heaping plate with
dismay and disgust. "I don't get it. It *should* have turned
out okay!" She sighed heavily. "Looks like I'll just have to
try again."

Kazuo closed his eyes, his chiseled expression slightly
pained. "Akane-san, I beg of you. Stick to fighting demons.
It's not as dangerous."

Akane glared at the ice sprite. "Thanks so much for the
encouragement," she said dryly, still feeling a bit too queasy to
work up any real anger.

Kazuo merely nodded in reply, either not noticing, or simply
ignoring her sarcasm as he stood and gingerly picked up the
plate, holding it carefully at arm's length. "I'll dispose of
this now, unless you have any objections."

Akane sighed, and made a half-hearted dismissive gesture.
After Kazuo left the dining room, she groaned, sagging over the
table with her head in her hands.

It wasn't working. She was trying so hard to keep occupied,
to keep her mind off of Ranma, and what might be happening to him
on the Ancient One's mountain. But nothing seemed to help. Not
fighting demons, not practicing her martial arts... And during
this, her latest cooking attempt, all she could think about was
that she had to learn to make something edible so that she could
cook something wonderful for Ranma when she finally returned to
the mortal plane...

When. Not if. She knew Ranma would break the blood spell,
no matter what the odds were against him. And Yuki-onna was
watching over him. The Snow Woman never told her how he fared,
but then no news was good news.

It didn't matter that, whenever Yuki-onna emerged from her
chambers after scrying through her mirror, her frost-blue eyes
were dark and clouded with unspoken worry. Akane didn't *need*
to see Ranma through the mirror, for she saw the look in Yuki-
onna's eyes, she saw the fear for Ranma that lay there, and her
heart would twist painfully with the dreadful certainty that
Ranma was in grave danger, that he was probably hurt or wounded
in some way...

But she knew he was alive. The Snow Woman's continued
silence on the matter ensured that small comfort. And as long as
Ranma was alive, she knew he would come for her--

Akane froze. Slowly, she lifted her head from her hands,
her brown eyes wide and alert.

The faint stirrings of an instinctive dread tickled the back
of her consciousness, and she felt the tiny hairs at the nape of
her neck rise with the shiver of gooseflesh that ran down her
back.

In moments, she was on her feet and running for the main
hall, her katana unsheathed and ready.

Another demon, just barely emerging from the mists that
surrounded the realm. And a strong one, from the feel of it; not
at all like the wimpy, mindless creatures of lust and evil that
usually invaded.

Akane smiled grimly as she ran down the corridor towards the
entry way. Good. It had been a few days since the last attack,
and she needed something on which to vent her bottled
frustration. This demon felt like it might actually be a
challenge.

With growing enthusiasm, she turned the final corner to the
crystalline doors that led outside... and skidded to a halt in
surprise.

The Snow Woman stood in the open doorway, looking out across
the glittering white landscape of her domain as the strange,
sunless twilight settled across the land with the onset of
evening.

"Yuki-san," Akane gasped in surprise. She had thought the
Snow Woman would be in her quarters, where she usually stayed for
protection whenever demons strayed into her realm.

Yuki-onna turned slowly to face her, and Akane blinked in
surprise. The Snow Woman's face, smooth and white, yet still
lined with the traces of old ki burns, was haggard with fear.

"Akane," she said. "You do not need to face this demon. My
barrier is in place; it will keep the demon out."

Akane stared in disbelief, as if waiting for the punch line.
But there was not even a flicker of humor in the Snow Woman's
steady, frightened gaze.

After a long moment, Akane slowly reached back and sheathed
her katana. "What's going on?" Her voice was calm and serious,
effectively hiding the dread building within her at this change
in procedure, at the terrible expression on Yuki-onna's face.
"Do you know what's out there?"

Yuki-onna glanced over her shoulder at the expanse of her
domain. "I never knew..." she whispered. "I... didn't realize
it was so powerful." The sky was turning dark, the first stars
began to glitter in the cold sky. "It's toying with us."

Akane's flaring impatience at her friend's cryptic response
overwhelmed her growing dread. "*What* is?" she snapped in
exasperation. "Yuki-san, I'm supposed to protect this place.
How can I do that, when you won't tell me what's going on? What
is it out there, that you don't think I can fight?"

Yuki-onna looked back at her. Her expression was tentative
and fearful; her eyes shimmered with icy tears. "Akane," she
whispered. "I'm sorry. This is my fault..."

Akane blinked. *Her* fault? What could she possibly have
to do with this demon that was out--?

And then she froze. Akane's eyes widened as abrupt
understanding pierced her mind with painful clarity. The blood
drained from her face, leaving her nearly as pale as the Snow
Woman herself.

She knew.

And the scars on her shoulder and leg throbbed in remembered
pain...

"Oh..." she gasped, "no..."

The voice that penetrated her mind at that moment was a dark
and mocking sing-song, as if just waiting for her to realize--

**Akaaaan-eeeeeeee...**

Akane's mouth was dry, her mind numb, unwilling to
acknowledge the communication that sent her skin crawling, as if
a million insects were creeping, scuttling all over her body.

**Akaaaneeee... where are you? Hiding behind this barrier?
Cringing behind walls of ice? What a cowardly little girl you
are.**

How long had it been? Two, three months? More than enough
time for a beheaded demon to pull itself together...

**Dear Akane, I can't tell you how disappointed I was to
come back to life and find that your decaying corpse was nowhere
to be found, to find that your trail of blood vanished without a
trace....**

Yuki-onna felt cold anger stir along side the fear in her
breast at the Shadowcat's words. Her white fists clenched as she
turned to look out at her darkening domain, and saw nothing but
the expanse of snow. The barrier was kilometers away; even if
the demon was in her line of sight, it would be too far away to
see with normal vision.

**Shadowcat,** she snarled mentally, reaching out with her
mind openly, knowing the dark beast would hear. **You will leave
my domain at once. You cannot penetrate my barrier, and I will
not let you near Akane.**

Akane shot a surprised glance at Yuki-onna as the Snow
Woman's mental voice touched her mind. *I didn't know she could
do that...*

The Shadowcat's chuckle echoed in both their minds. **Such
rudeness from an old friend. Ah, well, I'd hate to overstay my
welcome. I just wanted to stop by before I went on my way, to
let you know that I won't be bothering you further.**

Akane's eyes, wide in her pale face, narrowed in suspicion.
It was just going to leave? What was the Shadowcat up to? She
could feel the dark hatred bleeding from the demon's mental
voice, she could feel the black desire for vengeance seeping from
every saccharine-sweet word...

**Yes,** continued the Shadowcat, **much as I'd *love* to
see dear Akane face to face once again... I happen to have other
more important business to attend to.**

Akane felt her insides clench, felt cold sweat break out in
tiny beads along the surface of her skin. There was only one
possible thing that the Shadowcat might desire more than exacting
vengeance on her... but that was impossible. There was no way
the Shadowcat could return to the mortal realm... not without
being summoned, or without the Snow Woman's help, right?

**You see,** said the demon, **there is a certain fixed
place in the Kami realm, where the veil between the planes is
very thin, and easily torn. Through this weakness in the veil,
demons may come and go to the mortal plane as they please.**

"No." Akane spoke aloud, not knowing or caring if the
Shadowcat could hear her physical voice. "That's not possible.
If you could go to the mortal realm any time you wanted, you
would have done it a long time ago." That was it. The demon was
bluffing, trying to bait her. It was sending these horrible
words into her mind, knowing that it could not hear her reply,
just to goad her, to draw her out...

The demon seemed to know what she was thinking, even if it
couldn't hear her words. **Ah, but you're probably wondering, if
there was a way for me to reach the mortal realm without being
summoned or sent, why I haven't done so before now. The answer
is simple. I've never had the desire to use this unique portal
to the mortal realm until now... because it is a _dead end._**

Akane blinked. *A dead end?* She looked at Yuki-onna in
confusion, but the Snow Woman just shook her head in bafflement,
her brow creased with worry.

**You see, on the other side of this fixed portal in the
mortal realm, is a mountain. And on this mountain lives a very
ancient, very powerful creature who imprisons the demons that
stray from the Kami realm. He imprisons them so that they are
unable to leave the mountain and wreak havoc on the mortal world.
Thus, the demons are frustrated captives on this mountain.
Needless to say, they kill any unfortunate mortal who dares set
foot within the boundaries of their confinement.**

Akane felt the strength trickle from her legs, and fought
the urge to sink to her knees. *Oh no...*

It couldn't be. And yet it *did* explain the presence of so
many demons on the Ancient One's mountain...

**If it makes you feel any better, Akane dear, you should
know that I have the utmost confidence in Ranma's ability to
survive those demons. Most of them are nothing more than the
general mindless rabble you face on almost a daily basis... and
Ranma is so *deliciously* strong, after all.** Akane could
almost hear the Shadowcat licking its chops in anticipation.
**And, just think, he'll be so much stronger when he's lost in
the power of the Nekoken once again. Why, those demons won't
stand a chance.**
Akane's vision blurred; her eyes stung, even as they sparked
in sudden anger. "You..!" she snarled. She couldn't think of
a name vile enough -- and the Shadowcat couldn't hear her anyway.

A situation easily rectified. Unsheathing her katana with
swift grace, she took a determined step towards the open door.

Yuki-onna faced her, unmoving, blocking the way, her face
creasing in alarm as she saw the intent in Akane's expression.
"Akane, no, you can't..."

"Like *hell* I can't--"

**Akane.**

Akane broke off as the demon's voice abruptly lost the
saccharine edge, and grew deadly quiet and serious.

**I was very upset to discover that you had severed the link
between myself and my little pet, Akane,** the Shadowcat
whispered in her mind. **But it is only a minor inconvenience,
actually. For I know where he is.** The demon chuckled softly.
**I know where he was planning to go the night I took him -- did
you know he was in the middle of packing? And of course, there
was all that time I spent, linked with his transformed soul,
feeling his anguished longing for you, even when he couldn't
comprehend the reason for that feeling... Yes, I knew exactly
where he would go, were he ever to break free of the Nekoken.**

Akane choked in tearful fury. "That's it." Her ki blazed a
fiery blue-green, licking along the gleaming steel of her blade.
"That demon is *dead*!"

But Yuki-onna didn't move. "Akane, *listen* to me," she
pleaded. "The Shadowcat is lying! Even if it returns to the
mortal realm, even if it confronts Ranma on the Ancient One's
mountain, it can't trap him in the Nekoken again!"

Akane glanced at her sharply. "What do you mean?"

Yuki-onna didn't answer. Instead, she spoke to the demon,
allowing Akane to hear the communication. **It is useless,
Shadowcat. I am calling your bluff. For even if you do re-
capture Ranma and restore the Nekoken link, I have removed my
cold spell from him. The first time his curse activates, your
link with him will disintegrate.**

Akane listened, and a flicker of hope lit in her wet eyes.

But the Shadowcat laughed.

**We'll see.** The demon was frighteningly unperturbed by
this piece of knowledge, and continued with unruffled confidence.
**Anyway, it is no longer your concern now. Akane, by all means,
stay here, safe behind this barrier where my claws cannot rend
the flesh from your bones, where my teeth cannot tear out your
throat and my tongue lap up the spreading pool of your blood.
Stay here. Grow *old* here. And when you have a spare moment,
be sure to look in on your young fiance in the mortal realm
through Yuki-onna's mirror. His humanity will be lost, his mind
will be gone, but rest assured, he will be longing for you just
the same.**

Akane looked up into the Snow Woman's face, her expression
one of terribly controlled fury, even as tears streaked down her
face. "Yuki-san." Her breathing was heavy, her voice hoarse
with emotion. "Step aside. Please."

The Snow Woman shook her head. "I can't. Akane, please...
The Shadowcat will kill you."

Akane's eyes flashed. "Better that than allowing it to
steal Ranma's soul again!"

"You don't know what you're saying."

"I know *exactly* what I'm saying. I'm going to kill that
demon, once and for all, no matter what it takes."

"No!" Yuki-onna stretched out her arms as Akane took
another step forward. "You barely escaped with your life the
last time! And you even had the protection of Susa-no-o's
magic!"

**Farewell, Akane.** The Shadowcat's mental voice was once
again saccharine sweet. **Enjoy the rest of your life, cowering
behind this barrier, like the weak girl you are.**

The Shadowcat's presence slowly faded from her mind.

Akane's eyes lit in panic. "It's leaving. Let me pass,
Yuki-san! I have to stop it!"

Yuki-onna looked at her miserably. "Even if I let you pass,
you wouldn't be able to penetrate the barrier."

"So drop the barrier!"

"I can't."

"You *have* to!" Akane's face contorted in grief and rage.
"Don't you see?! This is all *YOUR FAULT*!"

The Snow Woman reacted as if she'd been slapped. She raised
a shaky hand to her cheek as icy tears slipped down her face.

"I know," she whispered. "And I'm sorry."

Akane blinked, and a flash of guilt crossed her features,
only to drown a moment later in the fury and grief in her
expression. A thousand hurtful, scathing replies came to her
mind, along the lines of how just being sorry wouldn't save
Ranma, and, a little late for that now, isn't it?

The Shadowcat was leaving. She could feel it. It was
leaving, and it was going after Ranma just when he was so close
to breaking the blood spell, and it would use Ranma's only
weakness to destroy his soul, his humanity, and she would lose
him forever, and she would be trapped in the Kami Plane forever
without a hope of rescue, and she would never see her family
again, and she would grow old and die here alone while Ranma
suffered a fate worse than death...

Akane's fists clenched around the hilt of her katana, her
aura flaring a terrible blue-green. With an incoherent cry of
anguish, she reached out with one hand, and forcefully pushed
Yuki-onna aside.

The Snow Woman staggered and leaned against the doorway,
looking after her with despair. "Akane..."

But Akane was gone, out into the snow, and she ran, heedless
of Yuki-onna's voice calling after her.

Long blue shadows crept across the pristine white landscape
as the sky darkened, but Akane didn't notice. Her vision swam
with tears. Her legs pushed through the heavy snow with swift
automation, leaving deep, dragging tracks behind her. The cold
wind numbed her wet face and whipped her long hair from its loose
braid, but still she ran, stumbling, falling, pushing herself
back up time and again...

And then the barrier rose before her, shimmering with
translucent iridescence. The rainbow colors that rippled across
its surface were visible even in the growing darkness. And
beyond the barrier, the black Mists of Kami were visible,
swirling and writhing in a dance of chaos.

Akane stood before the barrier, her breath, coming in
heaving gasps, puffing before her in white clouds of moisture as
her lungs burned from the cold. Her hair and clothes were matted
with wet snow. Gulping a lung-full of crisp air, she swiped
angrily at the tears stinging her eyes with one hand and hefted
her sword with the other. Melting snow slid down the gleaming
metal blade.

Her attack was silent and swift... and utterly ineffective.
The glowing edge of her katana struck the barrier with a *clang*,
painfully jarring Akane's arm, and slid harmlessly across the
surface. "No," she whispered. She stared through the barrier at
the black mists, her body tensed, her brown eyes wet and flat.
"Let me out..." She struck again. And again. "No! Let me out,
dammit! I have to save him!" She began to attack it in a
frenzy, snarling in a blind rage as her blade raked across the
barrier without causing the least bit of damage.

But then a small part of her that was still rational
realized that this barrier kept out the Shadowcat, with its razor
claws and the power of the Nekoken...

Her katana slid from limp fingers. A moment later, Akane
sank to her knees, shaking, her cries of fury dissolving into
shuddering sobs.

Why was this happening? She had tried so hard to be strong,
to be brave... but she just couldn't do it any more. Almost five
years in the Kami Plane, constantly clinging to one hope after
another, only to have it wrenched forcefully from her heart again
and again...

Minutes passed. Gradually, her sobs trailed off into numb
silence. The tears slipped down her face and fell into her lap
like the quiet, light rain after a thunder storm. The snow
against her legs was melting, seeping into her leggings as she
knelt, unmoving.

"Akane..."

Akane tensed at the Snow Woman's voice behind her. She
wanted to jump up and run away, but knew there was nowhere to
run. She wanted to turn and scream at her, to curse her for
ruining her life. But she was too tired. She felt so drained,
sapped of both energy and will... She wished the cold could seep
through her skin, past bone and muscle and vitals, to numb her
soul, to numb the horrible pain that throbbed there without hope
of relief.

"Akane..." Yuki-onna's voice was small and weary. "I am
truly sorry. But... I couldn't let you face the Shadowcat."

Akane absorbed her words in silence. She didn't raise her
head. She just sat there facing the barrier and the mists
beyond.

"It would have killed you."

Akane snorted softly.

Yuki-onna sighed. "You know I'm right, Akane. You are
skilled, but this demon is too powerful. You told me once
yourself that the Shadowcat would have killed you in its lair,
had it not been for its overconfidence allowing you to penetrate
its defenses, not to mention that you would have died anyway if
Susa-no-o had not transported you here. Do you think the
Shadowcat will make that same mistake again? We both know it is
too clever for that. If I had allowed you to face the Shadowcat,
it would have killed you, and then it would have gone to the
Ancient One's mountain and taken Ranma, with no one to stop it."

"It will anyway." Akane stared into her lap. Her voice was
lifeless, and hoarse from weeping. "You've made sure of that
now, haven't you."

The Snow Woman fell silent. But the pain that flared in the
space between them was palpable and deafening under the cold
night sky.

A small part of Akane's heart, that wasn't hardened and
numbed from pain, felt guilty for saying such hateful things.
And as the silence lengthened, Akane began to wonder if Yuki-onna
would respond to her harsh words at all, or if she would just
leave without saying a word.

Yuki-onna took a shaky breath. The sting of Akane's words
burned in her heart, because...

...because somewhere, deep in her soul, beyond the
altruistic desire to protect Akane, to save her life... the
accusation rang true. Could it be that, even in her attempt to
save Akane from the Shadowcat, and in spite of her good
intentions to reunite her with Ranma... she was merely finding
another excuse to keep Akane here in her domain, where it was
safe?

Where... she would not have to be alone?

*Please, Akane, don't leave me here alone...*

Tears of ice slipped down the Snow Woman's face as she
looked at Akane's form, hunched in the snow, shuddering with both
the cold and the force of her silent weeping. The girl's long
loose braid fell down her back, and clumps of melting snow clung
to its length.

No. She could not leave it at this. Even if Akane hated
her for the rest of her life, she had to do whatever she could to
make things right. Her actions had taken the priceless life of
an ancient friend, had nearly cost the soul of an innocent boy,
and had driven the one she thought of as her own daughter to the
edge of sanity.

She was sorry, so terribly sorry for all of it.

But just being sorry was not enough.

A slow, sad smile lit her white, lined features as the
familiar, hollow ache of loneliness filled her chest. A mere
whisper of what she knew was in store for her in the days, weeks
and years to come in the endless stretch of eternity...

The Snow Woman closed her eyes, and sighed.

Akane, staring numbly into her lap, noticed a strange
flicker at the edge of her sight. Slowly, she looked up in
surprise. The Mists of Kami swirled before her, unobscured by
the rainbow translucence of the barrier.

"Go save him, Akane." Yuki-onna's voice was soft and thick.
"But please... don't chase after the Shadowcat rashly. Remember
what Masakazu taught you. You can't help Ranma if you're dead,
after all."

Akane raised her head and turn to look over her shoulder at
the Snow Woman, her numbed expression flickering with both
genuine confusion and cynical disbelief. "You're... letting me
go?"

Yuki-onna laughed. The sound was full of pain. "Of course.
You are not my prisoner, after all. I merely wanted to keep you
from getting killed so that you could live to fight another day.
A day, perhaps, when you were better prepared to face this
persistent demon."

Akane blinked as the Snow Woman's words filtered through the
throbbing ache in her heart, thawing the awful numbness and
soothing the pain...

She could leave. Sure, she didn't know where the Shadowcat
was, or where the thin, easily torn veil between the planes lay,
but if she left now, there was a chance she could find it and
stop the Shadowcat before it reached Ranma, before it once again
stole his mind and humanity and shredded the remainders of her
existence asunder...

And yet, Akane found that she was... scared. Terrified.
Afraid to grasp hold of the hope that Yuki-onna was dangling in
front of her. Why bother even trying, the bitter, numbed part of
her soul whispered. Just wait and see, no matter what you do, it
never makes any difference anyway. You've been in the Kami Plane
for nearly five years now, and what have you accomplished, other
than learning how to quarter a mindless demon in three seconds?

*I saved Ranma from the Shadowcat,* a smothered spark of
Akane's living fire whispered desperately.

Yes, but the Shadowcat is alive again, isn't it? And it's
going after him again. All that for nothing...

*No. Not for nothing.* The spark flared; seared through the
numbness with determined fierceness. Akane trembled with the
force of it; tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. *Not for
nothing! Ranma is himself again! And he's coming to save me!*

Masakazu's words, advice from countless sparring sessions
where she ended up flat on her back, tired and bruised and
thoroughly discouraged at her seemingly infinitely slow progress,
suddenly resurfaced in her mind. *It's only when you fail to
rise after you have fallen, that you have truly lost.*

She knew that. Of course she knew that. Oh... what would
Masakazu think of her, losing control like that?

The excuses came tumbling from her mind in a torrent. The
pressure was getting to her. Not knowing how Ranma fared on the
Ancient One's mountain, just waiting and waiting and waiting in a
constant state of suspense... it was wearing away at her frayed
emotions. And the Shadowcat's taunts had pushed her over the
edge. The demon actually convinced her that it was all or
nothing, that it was now undefeatable, and she had been ready to
rush into its waiting claws in a futile, suicidal attempt to stop
it...

Yuki-onna had wisely stopped her.

And Akane had repaid the favor with cruel words, spoken in
the heat of anger.

*Is this what I have become?* she thought remorsefully. *Am
I so childish and petty that I have to inflict pain because of my
own misery?*

All this, after her months of training with Masakazu to
learn how to control her tongue and her temper and remain calm in
the face of crisis... and she couldn't even control herself when
it mattered most...

*You lose your focus, you lose the battle.*

Akane's eyes burned once again, but this time with tears of
shame, blurring the dark Mists of Kami before her.
"Yuki-san..." Akane slowly turned, feeling too drained to
stand, to face the Snow Woman. She felt the tightness build up
in her throat at the sight of the intense sadness on her friend's
face, and couldn't suppress a hiccuping sob. Her vision swam
with tears, blinding her. Her eyes were useless, and she brushed
at them with shaking hands. "Yuki-san, I'm suh-sorry..."

For a moment, there was nothing but those words hanging in
the air between them.

Then Akane felt the Snow Woman's arms around her shoulders,
holding her in a desperate embrace of comfort. "It's all right,"
Yuki-onna whispered brokenly. "It's all right, everything will
be all right..."

Akane stiffened instinctively as the Snow Woman enfolded her
in the hug. Strange panic surged within her chest. She didn't
know how to react. The Snow Woman had never hugged her before.
And the last time anyone had touched her with such kindness
was...

...was...

She couldn't remember. Oh, she had been glomped a lot, but
that didn't count. Even thinking back to before the blood spell,
before she was torn from the mortal plane, she couldn't remember
her last hug. Not even from her family. Kasumi was always kind,
and smiled a lot, but she had never hugged her, not like this.
Nabiki? Of course not... And her father cried a lot, but she
couldn't remember him hugging her, at least not since...

...since she told him not to. It was embarrassing, she
said, she wasn't a little girl any more, she didn't need to be
hugged, she didn't need anybody, she was fine just by herself,
thank you very much, she could handle it *alone,* she didn't
*need anybody*...

The Snow Woman held her.

And, for Akane, it was as if all the tiny cracks that had
been eating away at her own inner barriers for the past five
years, and even longer, gave way at last under this final touch
of compassion.

*No..!* she thought, in a vain attempt to keep the barrier,
her last defense, from crumbling.

But instead of the flood of agony that she expected to
engulf her with her defenses of anger and stubbornness finally
swept away, there was instead, to her surprise, a curious
sensation of... comfort. Comfort so exquisite, that it was
almost pain itself.

With a great heaving shudder of relief, Akane threw her arms
around the Snow Woman's waist, and wept.

They held each other, mortal and immortal, mother and
daughter, though neither could say who was mother and who was
daughter. And in that strange, defenseless moment, Yuki-onna and
Akane understood each other perfectly. The deep hollowness in
their souls of guilt, regret of past actions and foolish words,
and a seeming eternity of loneliness... All were filled as they
clung to each other, both knowing, with the clarity that comes
only from being true kindred spirits, what now needed to be done.
Both knowing that this would be the last time, perhaps, that they
would see each other again.

Yuki-onna knew that Akane would leave her now to save Ranma,
to stop the demon Shadowcat. But that was all right. And as she
held Akane close, feeling the girl's relief and love for her, and
feeling the emotion reciprocated from her own heart, the icy
tears that streaked her face seemed strangely warm. If she had
cared, she might have noticed the last trace of cracked,
blackened skin fading, washing away forever under those tears...

They wept together, neither speaking, just holding each
other tightly as they knelt in the clean white snow under a
clear, sparkling night sky.

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

"Bakusai Tenketsu!"

Ukyo and Nabiki winced slightly as the explosion of rock and
dirt showered them with tiny bits of debris.

Ukyo sighed, shook the dirt out of her long hair with a flip
of her head, and pushed herself to her feet, unable to sit still
any longer. She was trying very, *very* hard to keep the fear
and anxiety that she felt building within her under a semblance
of control, and Ryoga's tunneling blasts weren't helping her
focus.

Nabiki turned from where she knelt by her pack, and frowned
in mild irritation, watching as Shampoo and Mousse leaned over
the edge of the increasingly deep crater.

Mousse adjusted his glasses, trying in vain to peer down
into the darkness of the pit. "Well?" he called. "Any luck?"

"It's no good!" Ryoga called up, frustration evident in his
voice. "The barrier just keeps going. I don't think the Ancient
One is going to let us tunnel underneath it."

"*I* could have told him that," Nabiki muttered quietly as
she began to carefully load her .357 Magnum. "Honestly, they're
just wasting their energy. If a dragon, who's been around for a
few millennia, placed a magical barrier to keep us from climbing
his mountain, I don't think he'd be so stupid as to equip it with
such an obvious weakness."

"Well at least they're *doing* something," Ukyo responded
glumly. "I hate all this waiting around."

Nabiki snorted mildly. "Well, if it will make you feel any
better, by all means, go whack the barrier a few times with your
spatula."

Ukyo turned and scowled, her ire rising at her friend's
flippancy, but found that Nabiki wasn't even looking at her. The
Tendo girl was seemingly absorbed in the task of slowly,
methodically sliding cartridges into the chambers of her gun.
Annoyed, Ukyo looked over at where Mousse and Shampoo were
helping Ryoga climb out of his crater, and felt her teeth clench
involuntarily. She *would* have taken on that barrier if she
thought it would do any good. But after watching Ryoga's Shishi
Houkodan dissipate against the invisible surface without even
causing a flicker, she knew it would be a waste of energy. Just
as Nabiki said.

Ukyo rubbed a hand over her face, trying to calm her
irrational anger. She knew Nabiki wasn't trying to offend her,
but sometimes she found her new friend's method of dealing with
things hard to understand.

It wasn't that she didn't understand what it was like to
wear a mask over her emotions. After all, during the ten years
she'd masqueraded as a guy, she got plenty of practice hiding her
true feelings. She could count on one hand the times in her life
that she'd cried...

If she didn't include the past two weeks, that is.

Ukyo's eyes glistened, the now-familiar ache of loss welling
within her...

She swallowed, forcing the feeling back.

No time to think about loss right now. Barrier or no
barrier, she had to figure out a way to help Ranma. It was just
too infuriating that, after everything she had gone through, here
she was, stuck helplessly at the base of the mountain in the
oppressive silence, wondering what Ranma was doing, wondering if
he was fighting demons, if he was hurt, if he was still alive...

Ukyo shook her head forcibly. He was alive. He had to be.
Ranma was the best fighter among them. Nothing, not even a horde
of demons, could stop him when he was determined.

Yet even as she grasped for comfort with that thought, the
memories of just a few days previous rose unbidden. Memories of
kneeling by Ranma's side as the Shadowcat drained away his ki
until he lay, pale and weak, at the brink of death. She had wept
then, in grief and fear, clinging to his limp hand, feeling the
faint, erratic flutter of his slowing pulse beneath her
fingers...

"Hey. You okay?"

Ukyo blinked and looked up to find Nabiki looking at her.
Nabiki's face was calm, like the smooth surface of a pond
untouched by wind. The piercing clearness of her gaze as she
looked into Ukyo's eyes was the only indicator that she had
spoken at all.

"I'm fine," she replied automatically, but she could feel
the worry playing across her own features, feel the tension in
her body, belying her words.

Nabiki's eyes flickered slightly, as if analyzing Ukyo's
state of mind for herself. Then, after a brief moment during
which Ukyo felt as if Nabiki would stare right through her, she
nodded slightly, and snapped the cylinder of the loaded Magnum
back into place. Placing the gun carefully on the crumpled cloth
she'd wrapped it in, she then turned and began to nonchalantly
dig through her pack, pulling out various supplies as if getting
ready to set up camp.

It was only then that Ukyo realized that Nabiki believed
they were going to be waiting at the foot of this accursed
mountain for quite some time.

Ukyo watched, and as she did, felt a disturbed knot form in
the pit of her stomach. Whether it was the slow calm of Nabiki's
preparation, or the absolute apathy that seemed to permeate her
friend's countenance that bothered her, Ukyo couldn't tell. She
knew, of course, that Nabiki was not the heartless mercenary that
she had perceived her to be not so long ago. During the week
they spent together taking care of Ranma, she had caught several
glimpses of the compassion and tenderness that lay underneath
Nabiki's cold mask. She knew Nabiki cared for Ranma, and that
her loyalty and love for her family seemed to know no bounds.

But... it seemed that whenever crisis threatened, whenever
the situation became desperate and hopeless... the more Nabiki
turned cold and hard; the more her iron countenance of
emotionless calm deepened to the point of being unnerving.

Right now, Nabiki's face seemed almost inhuman in its utter
lack of expression.

Ukyo sighed heavily and rubbed her eyes with her fingertips.
She wasn't the only one suffering. Looking over at Ryoga,
Shampoo and Mousse, she saw that even they were beginning to
despair. Shampoo sat slumped against the invisible barrier, her
arms wrapped around her knees, her eyes dull and wet. Mousse and
Ryoga were once again debating, with voices carefully lowered in
the quiet that surrounded the mountain, whether they should try
to find another way around the barrier, or if they should try
again to force their way through with brute strength.

They were all on edge. Ranchan was up on that cursed
mountain alone, facing who-knows-what. And ever since he had
disappeared into the mists beyond the barrier a little over an
hour ago, the mountain had refused to show any sign of what
battles might be taking place on its slopes. Which either meant
that nothing was actually happening, or that their little company
was somehow being kept from hearing or seeing any evidence of
Ranma's struggle against the demon guardians.

For some reason, she strongly suspected the latter. The
deadly quiet lay heavily on the landscape like a shroud, and the
unnatural absence of any outdoor background noise was seriously
grating on her.

"I hate this," she muttered, but her voice carried, and
Nabiki looked up at her again. She grimaced. "This stupid
silence is getting on my nerves," she explained.

"Ungghhhh..." A soft moan issued from the crumpled form of
Kuno, lying on the ground a few meters away. A moment later, he
lifted his head and looked around blearily.

Nabiki raised an eyebrow at Ukyo that was almost accusing,
as if blaming her words for somehow reviving their garrulous
companion. "Well, I don't think you'll have to worry about the
silence any more," she said dryly. She glanced over at the
stirring kendoist. "Welcome back to the land of consciousness,
Kuno-chan."

"Oh great," Ukyo mumbled, immediately regretting her
complaint. She was *not* in the mood to deal with Kuno babbling
on about his 'pigtailed goddess.' Not when Ranma's life was in
such great danger. Not when there was no way for her to find out
what was happening to him, or if he was even still...

"Nnnn... Wherefore..." Kuno groaned, trailing off and
blinking unsteadily as he pushed himself into a sitting position.
Reaching back with one hand, he gingerly probed the back of his
head, wincing as his fingers encountered swollen lumps, evidence
of the numerous blows he'd sustained.

"Ite," he said, almost absently. He was almost used to this
method of waking up, but that didn't make it any more pleasant.
He blinked again and looked around.

And looked up.

Kuno's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the mist-
shrouded mountain that towered over them.
"What is this?" he demanded as he pushed himself unsteadily
to his feet. His eyes widened a bit further as the sound of his
loud voice pierced through the heavy silence.

"This, Kuno-chan," Nabiki answered without looking at him,
"is the mountain of the Ancient One."

Kuno turned and favored Nabiki with an imperious glare,
which she blithely ignored. He loathed the presumptuous
familiarity with which the Tendo girl consistently addressed him,
and knew that she did it merely to anger him. He refused to rise
to the bait, however, having long ago learned that neither threat
nor bribe could make her cease that particular annoyance.

"If this indeed is the dwelling place of that most vile
serpent who holds my love captive," he said, lowering his voice
slightly in the unnerving stillness, "how is it that I have come
to be here? Truly, I can recall naught of the journey."

"Ranma carried you," Nabiki replied shortly.

Kuno's brow furrowed. "Ranma..?" Then he recalled that his
poor, enchanted pigtailed goddess was calling herself by that
name, and the scowl on his face dissolved into a knowing smile.
"Ah, what devotion," he said reverently. "Truly, she must love
me well."

He turned and began looking around for his fire-haired
beauty, feeling a slight twinge of disappointment when he did not
immediately find her radiant face among the frowns that greeted
him from the Chinese barbarians, and the jealous scowl that
adorned the face of that vile Hibiki....

Kuno's train of thought was abruptly cut off as he found
himself jerked around by the front of his tunic.

"Okay, that does it." Ukyo's face was hard and angry as she
released his shirt and stared into Kuno's surprised face. "Look,
you pompous moron," she said, her voice low and intense. "I'm
gonna tell you this once, and that's it. Your 'pigtailed
goddess' does not exist, okay? Ranma is a *guy.* He's always
been a guy, but he's got this stupid Jusenkyo curse that changes
him into a girl whenever he's hit with cold water, and even
*then,* he's *still* a guy. Why can't you get that through your
thick head?!"
Kuno gazed at her coolly, seemingly unfazed by her words,
and smoothed the front of his tunic. "Under other
circumstances," he said, "I would be forced to avenge my goddess'
honor from such unholy slander. But given your own androgynous
nature, and your obvious lack of familiarity with your own
femininity, it is easy to comprehend how you could be so easily
misled in terms of the pigtailed girl's true gender. For truly,
she exemplifies all that is bright and beautiful in womanhoo--"

*crack*

The force of Ukyo's slap rocked him back on his feet. As
Kuno regained his bearings, raising a hand to his reddening
cheek, he was surprised to see that Ukyo's narrowed eyes were wet
and glistening.

"You shallow, self-absorbed, blind bastard." Her voice was
full of quiet venom. "You wouldn't know a real woman if she was
standing right in front of you."

Kuno blinked. The force of her words struck him more
powerfully than her slap. His mind was numb, he couldn't think
of a reply.

"He's not worth the trouble, Ukyo," Nabiki said flatly.
"We've tried explaining Jusenkyo to him a million times, and he's
still too thick-headed to get it."

"Damn straight," Ukyo agreed vehemently. She had been *so*
tempted to flatten Kuno with her spatula, but then had relented
at the last moment. The guy obviously needed all the undamaged
brain cells he could muster. And so, giving Kuno a glare that
made him, the noble-blooded descendent of samurai, shrivel
slightly where he stood, she turned with a flip of her long
chestnut ponytail and stalked off towards the others.

Kuno stared after her a moment, feeling a sense of strange
unease flit through him, like a sudden chill, as if his usual
equilibrium had been tilted askew. Shaking his head, trying to
rid himself of the feeling, he turned to Nabiki, anxious to
reestablish the status quo. His upper lip curled into an
approximation of a sneer.

"This Jusenkyo again," he said disdainfully. "I thought
better of you, Nabiki Tendo. I am not the fool you take me for,
eager to swallow this most preposterous fairy tale you've
concocted to keep me from my goddess. Your story that
Saotome..." Kuno's face crinkled in distaste. "...and my beloved
goddess are one and the same, is an obvious fabrication, a fairy
tale the likes of which has no place in reality."

Nabiki blinked, then raised her head and looked him in the
eyes, her face betraying nothing. "And I suppose your fairy tale
is so much more believable?"

Kuno blinked again. "My..?"

"Yes. You know, the fairy tale where Ranma is a 'foul
sorcerer' who has enslaved your pigtailed goddess? Sorcery or
Cursed Springs." Nabiki shrugged. "You're free to choose your
own fantasy, Kuno. I'm a strong believer in individuality. But
if I were you, I'd be worried if my own narrow perception of the
world went against what everyone else claims to be true."

Nabiki's eyes flickered slightly as the thought of Ranma and
his "imaginary blood spell girl" flitted through her mind. The
whole reason they were here in the first place was because of a
reality only Ranma remembered. They had come here based on his
story and the evidence of a tape recording and a few pictures,
and nothing more. Even now, her own memory told her that Akane
didn't exist.

They had placed all their trust in Ranma's mind, something
that she had usually considered a risky venture under the best of
circumstances. And now he was gone, up the mountain to face
demons, leaving them alone. Leaving *her* alone, with all her
little niggling doubts and fears...

The corner of her mouth quirked up in the tiniest ghost of a
smile. "Then again, Kuno-chan, you never know. You just might
be the sane one after all. And wouldn't *that* be a kicker."

Kuno glowered down at Nabiki, trying to cover his growing
disconcertion over the turn this conversation had taken as he
struggled to come up with an appropriately condescending reply.

He never got the chance to speak.

For at that moment, the Amazon girl behind him gasped.
"Great-grandmother!"
Kuno turned at the cry to see Shampoo on her feet, staring
with wide, horrified eyes at the elder Amazon, who seemed to have
appeared out of nowhere. The others were staring at her with
equal amounts of shock and fear, yet they immediately fell into
battle stances. Ryoga's umbrella was in hand, and Ukyo's battle
spatula rested in her white-knuckled grip. Mousse came
immediately to Shampoo's side, his hands disappearing into the
drape of his long sleeves.

The old woman stood a mere meter away from Shampoo, and was
seemingly unconcerned that she was out-numbered and weaponless as
she glared at great-grandaughter.

Kuno noticed that her Chinese robes and long white hair hung
heavy and damp against her diminutive form, as if she had been
caught in a rainstorm a short while ago...

"Where is Ranma?" Cologne looked directly at Shampoo,
ignoring the others.

"Give it up, old ghoul," snarled Ukyo, her battle aura
already flaring around her body as she clutched her giant
spatula. "Can't you see you've lost? There's no way in hell
that Ranma's going to go with you, no matter what you do."

Ryoga glared at Ukyo, but she didn't notice. What was she
trying to do, get Cologne angry? Didn't she realize how powerful
the old woman was? *He* knew. He had trained under her to learn
the Bakusai Tenketsu. He had seen her power as a martial artist.
And if it came down to a fight, even if they all took Cologne on
together, he still didn't like the odds...

Cologne didn't take her piercing gaze from Shampoo's face,
but she laughed. "So sure, are you?" she replied. "We'll see
about that."

Shampoo met her great-grandmother's gaze and swallowed the
growing fear she felt thickening her throat.

She should have known Cologne would not give up; that mere
ice and snow would not be enough to stop her for long. For she
knew what motivated her great-grandmother, knew that admitting
defeat to Ranma and letting him go free rather than adding his
strength to the tribe were no longer concessions she was prepared
to make.
Not since Shampoo cast the blood spell, at least.

Cologne had warned her. She had told her again and again
that casting the blood spell was the point of no return, and that
using the forbidden magic would irrevocably commit them to their
course.

And yet, in spite of her great-grandmother's reservations,
Shampoo had insisted that they go ahead and cast the spell.

Since then, Cologne could no longer sit by passively and
allow Shampoo to handle her own life, her own mistakes. For if
the Tribal Council discovered that they had stooped to casting a
blood spell to obtain Ranma as Shampoo's husband, and yet *still*
failed, the punishment they would receive for the terrible
dishonor would be death... or worse.

And now Shampoo could feel the Amazon matriarch's
determination, radiating from her with the power of her battle
aura. And she knew that, no matter what, Cologne intended to
take Ranma back to the Village and keep him there. How she
intended to accomplish this, though, Shampoo couldn't guess.

There was a part of her that wanted to plead with Cologne to
forget about the blood spell; that wanted to beg her to forget
about Ranma and help make things right. They didn't have to tell
the Council what had happened! And so the Council would never
have to know about her terrible mistake, and they could go on
with their lives...

And yet another part of her... the part that still longed
for Ranma, still lusted after his beauty and his strength and
power... wanted Cologne to succeed.

But none of her desires really mattered anyway. Because, at
the moment, Ranma was completely out of reach.

"Shampoo." Cologne stood calmly in front of Shampoo, her
hands tucked inside the folds of her robes. "Where is he?"

"You too late, great-grandmother." Shampoo forced a smile,
in spite of her conflicting emotions. "Ranma already go up
mountain."

Cologne's eyes widened, then narrowed in disbelief.
Kuno reacted as well, blinking in surprise at Shampoo's
words. He couldn't believe it. The pig-tailed girl was already
on the accursed mountain, without him by her side to protect her?
And the others had let her go alone?! His countenance darkened,
and he stepped forward, opening his mouth to deliver a fierce
rebuke to the others, when, from behind him, Nabiki suddenly
grabbed his arm and pinched it hard.

"Quiet, you fool!" she whispered into his ear with a fierce
intensity. "Don't you *dare* say a word. The situation is bad
enough as it is, and I swear to you on my mother's grave that if
you open your mouth right now, *you will regret it.*"

Perhaps it was the power of Nabiki's words. Perhaps it was
the atmosphere of the Ancient One's mountain, saturated with
enchantment and heavy with dread. Perhaps it was his stinging
cheek, still smarting from Ukyo's slap. Perhaps it was the
terror of this mysterious old woman that was so evident on his
companions' faces. Or perhaps it was the uneasiness that had
been building in him since he awoke under the shadow of this
accursed mountain, that finally broke through his insipid
exterior and penetrated him to his core.

Whatever the reason... Kuno remained silent.

After a moment, he felt Nabiki's grip slide silently from
his arm as he continued to stare at the strange scene unfolding
before him.

Cologne seemed oblivious to Kuno, or any of the others. Her
bulbous eyes narrowed as she stared at Shampoo. "Do not lie to
me, child," she said tightly. "Ranma is not on the mountain.
You have no wards. And we both know that to climb the mountain
without wards is death."

"She's not lying," said Mousse, with a calm that belied the
anger and apprehension in his face. "Ranma left to climb the
mountain over an hour ago. We would have gone with him, but
there is a barrier around the mountain that won't let us
through."

Cologne glanced over at Mousse sharply, knowing that if he
did not speak the truth, she'd be able to see it in his face.
Though his robes could conceal a multitude of various weapons,
the boy could never hide anything in his expression.
She frowned severely as she saw that he spoke the truth, and
turned back to Shampoo in anger. "How could you let him go up
the mountain without wards, girl? Ranma is of no use to us if
he's dead!"

Shampoo's eyes widened in disbelief at what she was hearing.
"What you saying?! You steal wards so we have to face demons
with no protection!"

"I took the wards to *keep* you from climbing the mountain,"
Cologne snapped back furiously. "I had no idea any of you would
be foolish enough to go without them!" She sighed heavily,
almost a groan. "Then again, I should have known better than to
underestimate Son-in-law's foolishness. Well, there's nothing
for it now. We'll just have to hope he comes back safely."

Mousse's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "And then what?"

"That is none of your concern, boy." Cologne looked at him
levelly.

"It is my concern," he replied coldly, ignoring the frantic,
silencing look Shampoo was giving him. "For your information,
Shampoo has given up her claim on Ranma, and has chosen to marry
me."

There was a long moment of penetrating silence. Cologne's
expression didn't change, but her battle aura flared around her
diminutive form.

"Absolutely not," she said, her voice deadly serious. "I
forbid it."

Mousse clenched his fists. "You *can't* forbid it! As an
Amazon male, my claim to Shampoo's hand is greater than Ranma's!"

"So." Cologne smiled slowly, grimly. "You defeated Shampoo
in combat, is that what you're saying?"

Mousse's anger faltered, and he glanced over at Shampoo.
Seeing the distressed look on her face, he knew that he had made
a mistake. Shampoo said that he had defeated her... but really,
all he did was hold her arms to keep her from striking him when
he had confronted her with her crime of casting the blood spell.
And, if he was to be perfectly honest, he didn't know if he could
actually defeat Shampoo in real combat. He'd never had the
desire to find out. The thought of fighting Shampoo... of
hurting her...

Cologne read his expression easily, and nodded with
satisfaction. "It is as I thought," she said calmly. "You have
no claim, Mousse. Shampoo is a warrior, and she will be joined
with a man who is worthy of being her husband, who can produce
strong heirs to strengthen the tribe. You are not, and never
have been that man. You are a weak, blind, sentimental fool, and
a disgrace to our Amazon tribe."

Shampoo gasped, her heart constricting within her chest as
she saw Mousse crumple under the sting of the harsh words.
Cologne had often been strict with him in the past, but, until
now, she had always treated him with some measure of... fondness.
For her to say such a thing, denouncing him as an Amazon...

Mousse cast a glance at Shampoo, then straightened, his eyes
flashing under his glasses as he looked down at the matriarch.
"Fine," he said. "If being an Amazon means betraying my friends
through treachery and lies and dark magic, all for the sake of
some outdated code of ethics, count me out. I want nothing more
to do with you, or your stupid laws."

Cologne's eyes narrowed, and her battle aura flared a fiery
red, but Mousse stood his ground. "Ungrateful wretch," she spat.
She turned on Shampoo angrily. "What do you have to say for
yourself, girl? Surely you don't expect me to believe that you
intend to seal this farcical marriage to this pathetic coward?
Not when Ranma is nearly yours to keep?"

Silence settled on the group as all eyes turned to Shampoo.
She stood, her face expressionless and pale as she stared at her
great-grandmother.

Sudden fear, that had nothing to do with Cologne, creased
Mousse's face as he looked at Shampoo.

"Is he?" Shampoo whispered at last. "Ranma is on mountain
of Ancient One, surrounded by demons, with no wards. If he
return at all, he will return with Akane." She trembled
slightly. "How can you say Ranma is mine to keep?"

She tried to ignore how, as he heard the longing in her
voice, Mousse's face settled into a solemn, quietly hurt
expression.

Cologne smiled, seeing the desire on her great-
granddaughter's face. "Trust me, Shampoo," she said softly.
"Ranma will come with us back to the Village, and he will come
willingly."

"No way!" shouted Ukyo.

"More tricks? More of your black magic, is that it?!" added
Ryoga.

Shampoo didn't hear them. For she now knew for certain that
Cologne had a way to ensnare Ranma once and for all.

And she wanted him... so badly...

Almost against her will, she turned her head and met
Mousse's hurt gaze. And as he looked into her eyes and saw what
lay there, his expression crumbled to one of despair.

"Shampoo..."

Poor Mousse. He was such an idiot, sometimes. Overly
emotional, almost always overreacting to everything, too
outspoken for his own good... Great-grandmother was right.
Mousse *was* a weak, blind, sentimental fool.

Poor, stupid, foolish Mousse, to love her the way he did, in
spite of the things she had done, in spite of the stains on her
soul.

Poor, sweet, dear, foolish Mousse... with the beautiful,
pleading, compassionate eyes...

She wanted Ranma, yes. She wanted to be a great Amazon
warrior, the greatest, a woman who had overcome all obstacles
between her and her lawful husband, no matter what the cost...

But she also wanted to be... happy...

Yes. Happy. Had she ever been truly happy before? She'd
always gotten a thrill out of chasing Ranma, out of competing
with her rivals, out of being strong and fierce and beautiful and
desirable... but the exhilaration had always faded, leaving her
feeling... hollow.

But she was used to the hollowness. She had accepted it as
a part of her, so much so that for the longest time, she didn't
recognize the emptiness for what it was.

Even now, she wouldn't have recognized the hollowness for
what it was... if it hadn't been filled the past week.

Shampoo blinked as her eyes filled with unexpected wetness.

The past week, with Mousse by her side. The hollowness was
gone, she realized with surprise, when he was with her. She felt
warm, and safe and...

...and happy?

It... wasn't possible. Could it be that stupid, weak,
blind, foolish Mousse... made her happy?

Shampoo's wet eyes widened with realization, and she felt
her skin begin tingle with a strange, enveloping warmth that went
on to penetrate far deeper into her soul than anything else she
had ever experienced.

Mousse had dropped his gaze, unwilling, unable to see the
betrayal he felt sure was coming.

"Great-grandmother." Shampoo spoke without tearing her gaze
away from Mousse. Her voice was quiet, but strong. "I sorry I
cast the blood spell. I... will not marry Ranma. *Mousse* is my
husband. And..." She reached out, a tremulous smile lighting
her face, and gently took his hand. He blinked, looking at their
entwined hands in confusion.

"And I love him."

Silence. It seemed as if everyone had stopped breathing.
Shampoo could almost hear their eyes widening, even as her own
heart pounded in her chest.

Mousse's hand trembled in hers. Slowly, incredulously, he
raised his head. He saw Shampoo, saw her wet, shimmering violet
eyes, and the genuine, hopeful smile on her face that was for
him...

For him.

Ranma's image no longer haunted the depths of her eyes.

Words could not describe the joy that Mousse felt in that
moment. His heart, which only moments before had been so heavy,
flared with brilliant light that filled his body, his mind.

He opened his mouth, but was too overwhelmed to speak. His
throat had closed off, even as tears filled his eyes.

Shampoo's smile grew, and the tears slipped down her own
cheeks. She brought Mousse's hand up to her chest, caressing his
fingers with both her hands, feeling the warmth, the *strength*
in him that she had never noticed before. "Wo ai ni, Mousse,"
she whispered to him, and his hand tightened around hers.

It was strange, she realized, how easy it was... how much
more natural and glorious were those words now, at this moment,
than all the times she had flung them so carelessly at Ranma.

"Shampoo..." Mousse's blue-gray eyes glistened behind his
glasses, and he reached up with his free hand to touch her face,
to wipe the tears from her face with his fingers...

"No." Cologne's voice was hard as stone. "I... will *not*
allow this... travesty..."

Shampoo turned...

...and paled at the raw fury she saw in her great-
grandmother's face as their eyes locked. In her whole life, she
had never seen Cologne so angry.

Still, she stood her ground, releasing Mousse's hands as she
turned, instinctively slipping into a battle stance, her own gaze
hardening with determination.

"Great-grandmother. I make my decision. Is final."

Cologne's entire countenance darkened. "I think not," she
said quietly.

Shampoo tensed. In a one-on-one fight, she knew she didn't
stand a chance against the elder Amazon. But she wasn't alone,
for the others were standing with her. She could feel Mousse
beside her, and behind her, Ryoga and Ukyo stood, both tensed and
ready to fight. All together, they just might be able to win
this battle...

The sight of Cologne's cold fury as she stood a mere meter
or so away forcibly shook Mousse out of his euphoria.
Immediately, the weapons in the dimensionally deceiving confines
of his sleeves slid down towards his hands as he looked at the
old crone. Four against one; five if the idiot Kuno decided to
catch a clue and realize the seriousness of the situation. They
could win...

"*Shampoo.*" Cologne spoke in Mandarin. Her words were
soft and sudden as she gazed unwaveringly at her great-
granddaughter who stood so defiantly before her. "*You are young
and easily misled. You fail to realize the seriousness of the
choice you have made. This is my fault. I should have taught
you better. And so I forgive you of your folly.*"

Shampoo blinked in surprise at her great-grandmother's
words. They were not at all what she expected. If anything, she
had been prepared for a scathing reprimand, a denouncement, even
disownment and banishment for her open defiance. But this?
Forgiveness? What was she--?

There was a flash of movement; a mere flick of Cologne's
wrist as her hand flashed out from under her robe, and Shampoo
and Mousse felt the splash of icy water against their faces.

No! Shampoo tried to shout, but it was too late as the curse
took her body and her voice from her. Her wet clothes collapsed
on top of her, and she meowed loudly as she desperately clawed
her way out of the material. She could hear Mousse squawking and
fluttering in anger, and she cried out wordlessly, a terrible
yowling sound, not for herself, but for Mousse. A warning. Get
away, get away quickly, before--!

Too late, for as she scrambled out of her clothing, she
heard the squawks cease, and as she emerged, she saw that Cologne
held Mousse by his fragile, slender neck. He held perfectly
still, knowing that death could be a mere clench of the fist
away. His eyes were wide behind the glasses that somehow still
remained on his face, hanging lopsided across his duck bill.

Shampoo froze, fighting the instinct to shake her wet fur.
Her tiny heart pounded painfully within her rib cage.
*Great-grandmother wouldn't kill Mousse,* she thought wildly.
*She wouldn't, she wouldn't, it's just a bluff, she's just taking
control of the situation, that's all, she's just showing us that
we can't fight her...*

Ukyo stood, trembling in impotent fury. She and Ryoga
couldn't attack with her holding Mousse like that! That old
*ghoul!*

But Ryoga wasn't looking at the duck, though he was
painfully aware of the danger Mousse was in. Instead, he was
staring nervously at what Cologne held in her other hand: a long,
thin, makeshift container made from a hollowed stalk of bamboo,
the diameter of his fist, that had been carefully hidden in the
folds of her robes until a moment ago. And within the bamboo
container, water, melting from shards of shattered ice, sloshed
menacingly.

A part of Ryoga that wasn't furious and fearful of getting
changed into a helpless piglet, marveled that the old woman had
the skill to carry the container up the mountain without spilling
a drop... and that she'd managed to splash Shampoo and Mousse,
and yet still save just enough water for him...

Cologne glanced over at him with a smirk, as if daring him
to come closer.

Shampoo saw Cologne's smug glance at Ryoga, and didn't
hesitate. She leaped from her crumpled pile of clothing, and
with feline swiftness, sank her tiny, needle-sharp claws into the
hand that held the bucket. Cologne jerked and hissed in pain,
but held on to both Mousse and the bucket of icy water. "*Let go
of me, you stupid child!*" she snapped.

Shampoo sank her sharp teeth into the withered flesh of
Cologne's hand, and the thin, coppery taste of ancient blood
filled her mouth.

Grimacing in pain, Cologne purposefully threw Mousse to the
ground. He landed hard with a strangled squawk, then lay stunned
and unmoving. Then she tore Shampoo from her arm with her free
hand and held her by the scuff of the neck in front of her face.
"Enough of this," she hissed. "We will discuss this later,
Shampoo."

With that, she tapped the struggling lavender cat on the
head with one finger, and Shampoo felt her consciousness slip
away.

As Ukyo saw Cologne drop the limp cat to the ground, she
knew this would be her only chance to attack, while the old woman
was distracted. "Now, Ryoga," she whispered, and charged.

Cologne turned to meet her attack calmly, dodging the
slashing swipe of her battle spatula. Ukyo saw her hand flash
out and tried to twist out of the way, but couldn't fully dodge
as her momentum carried her forward. She felt Cologne's finger
like a spear in her chest, and she flew backward, striking the
invisible barrier with tremendous force. Lights flashed behind
her eyes, darkness surged at the edges of her vision... and with
her fading sight, she saw that Ryoga was standing where she left
him, and that he was looking at her slumping form with horror.

"Ryoga," she wheezed painfully, "you idiot... Why didn't
you back me up..?"

But if he replied, she didn't hear him, for the darkness
swelling at the edges of her vision chose that moment to smother
her dimming spark of consciousness.

Cologne turned to Ryoga and smiled. "Do you want to go
next, boy? Or are you too frightened of a little water?"

As Ryoga looked at Ukyo's crumpled, unconscious body, her
accusing words ringing in his head... his fear dissolved into raw
fury. Fury over everything this old woman had done. Fury over
the blood spell, and everything that had happened because of it.
Fury over how she had threatened his friends, how she had hurt
them.

Fury at how she was now able to hold him at bay, and keep
him from helping his friends, with a mere bucket of liquid.

He crouched as his battle aura blazed a furious blue-green.
"You..!" he snarled, his ki crackling around his body as it grew
in strength. "How *dare* you?!" Throwing his hands up, palms
outward, he shouted, "*Shishi Houkodan!!*"

With incredible swiftness, Cologne nimbly leaped out of the
way of the blast, up and over... and flung the last of the icy
water down onto Ryoga.

The tiny black piglet that emerged from the crumpled,
sopping remnants of Ryoga's clothes was even more furious than
the boy had been. With a squeal of rage, it attacked Cologne,
its sharp fangs bared furiously.

The Amazon caught the piglet in one hand, and, with a mighty
thrust, bashed it against the stony ground.

The piglet lay, its eyes half-closed and unseeing, and
didn't move. Didn't even twitch.

Cologne straightened with satisfaction. Now that those
obstacles were out of the way--

There was a sound, loud and sharp, like a short thunderclap,
and Cologne felt razor hot fire explode through her right
shoulder, flinging her backwards to land hard on the ground.

Pain filled her head with a red haze. She could feel the
torn, splattered flesh surrounding the gaping hole in her
shoulder, could feel the shards of her shattered collar bone
biting into the muscle tissue, could feel the blood already
soaking her robes.

But none of that stopped her from getting immediately to her
feet, looking around to see...

"Don't move, or next time it's your heart." Nabiki's
expression was as hard as stone as she cocked back the hammer of
her magnum with a solid *click*.

Kuno stood a few feet away from her, unresponding, staring
blankly at the unconscious animals lying on the ground where,
only moments before, his human companions had stood.

Cologne focused over the pain -- not a hard thing to do,
since her shoulder and arm were already growing numb from
systemic shock -- and glared hard at the girl that, to her
chagrin, she had underestimated once again. How could she have
known that this girl, with absolutely no skill in the Art, would
be a threat? "You think you can shoot me before I can reach you
to break your neck, girl?" she asked quietly.

"I think you're fast," Nabiki replied, unblinking. A grim,
half-smile quirked the edge of her mouth. "But you're wounded.
And whether it's with a gun or a camera, I'm a *very* fast shot."

Cologne pulled herself straighter, in spite of the bleeding
hole in her shoulder. Her battle aura flared a brilliant scarlet
around her diminutive form.

And she grinned.

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

End of Part Eighteen