Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Hearts of Ice ❯ Of Magic, Gods and Demons ( Chapter 19 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

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

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He arts of Ice
Part 19: Of Magic, Gods and Demons
by Krista Perry
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Nabiki stared at Cologne's fallen form, then glanced at the
gun, unable to believe that she had pulled the trigger.
Milliseconds ticked by with infinite slowness as the echo of the
shot reverberated throughout the valley, shattering the stillness
that shrouded the base of the mountain of the Ancient One.

A cool wind abruptly stirred through the heavy, stagnant
atmosphere, soft and strangely clammy across the skin of her
outstretched arms.

*Fool,* the wind whispered.

Nabiki heard the voice of the wind, ghostly and unnerving,
even with her unprotected ears singing in pain from the
startling, piercing sound of the gunshot, and hoped she wasn't
losing her mind.

She couldn't feel her face. Her eyes stared at Cologne's
body through an expressionless mask; a mask covering the inner
turmoil boiling inside her chest, the nausea trembling within her
stomach.

*No, I'm not a fool, I'm the _smart_ one, dammit, the others
came unarmed, relying on their martial arts, but I brought a gun,
and _I'm_ the one standing--*

Cologne twitched, and began to move.

Nabiki blinked in surprise, *She's alive I didn't kill her,*
and shifted the grip on her gun, the wind and its mocking voice
forgotten as her mind suddenly raced in counterpoint to the
dragging moments of time.

*You just had to come with Ranma on this fool's errand,
didn't you? Thought you had to help the prince and his little
legion rescue the damsel-in-distress, didn't you? Gee, I wonder
why you never hear about court treasurers going on adventures.
Perhaps because they're usually smart enough to stay behind and
count the gold?

*Oh jeeze, I'm rambling, I can't lose it, not now of all
times...*

She didn't realize that there would be so much blood. That
a simple twitch of her finger on the curved trigger of her gun
would cause the old woman's flesh and bone to explode so
violently in a shower of scarlet.

The paper practice targets at retired-Colonel Hiwamura's
private indoor shooting range never bled, after all. She'd have
to mention that little discrepancy to Hiwamura-san the next time
she saw him.

She had always been a girl who liked to bet on a sure thing.
If it wasn't a sure thing, and the odds could be bent in her
favor, she never hesitated to bend them.

The cold metal weight that she held easily in her hands had
just bent the odds in her favor at a time when she saw the world
tumbling out of her control before her eyes. Mousse, Shampoo,
Ukyo, Ryoga... all fallen in moments...

Nabiki Tendo was in control once again. She had used the
gun, and had brought a little order to the chaos of this crazy
place where invisible barriers rose from the ground, and where a
strange new wind spoke terrors to her soul with a near-silent
voice.

She just wished she could wipe her damn sweaty palms on the
legs of her jeans.

*Lucky shot. Beginner's luck, stupid beginner's luck, a
slight jerk, a misalignment, and it would be her face or her
chest that would be gone instead of her shoulder...

*She's still alive, thank the gods, I didn't kill her...

*Oh no, she's still alive. She's moving, she's going to
get up, what do I do now, I don't think I can shoot this thing
again, I don't think I...*

Cologne was getting impossibly to her feet. And, as if from
a great distance, as if she were under water, Nabiki heard her
own voice, cold and calm and as smooth as silk.

"Don't move, or next time it's your heart." Her off-hand
thumb instinctively cocked back the hammer of the gun.

*Next time, yeah right, there's no way I can pull the
trigger again, oh crap, she looks angry, I can't believe she's
still moving with that... that... Oh no, I'm in trouble, what
about the others, I can't believe it, she took them all out in
seconds, and Ryoga is P-chan, Ryoga is _P-chan_ I can't believe I
didn't see it before, that idiot, he should have told us, no
wonder he didn't help Ukyo, I hope he's alive...

*We're all in big trouble...*

Cologne was once again on her feet in spite of the gaping,
bleeding wound in her shoulder. Her battle aura, the color of
the sprayed droplets on the ground, began to flicker around her
diminutive form, and she was even speaking...

"You think you can shoot me before I can reach you
to break your neck, girl?"

Nabiki felt her skin go cold as glass.

*She's going to kill me. She wants to kill me, I can see it
in her eyes, I should have shot her the moment she showed up, but
no, I had to deal with Kuno and keep him quiet so he wouldn't
attract attention to me, to us, I had to get the gun, I had to...
wait... Yes, I had to wait because... because who knows, Shampoo
might have been able to talk some sense into the old ghoul, and
we might have continued and finished this whole mess without
incident...

*Yeah, right. Face it, girl, you blew it.*

The wind was laughing at her.

Nabiki felt her careful poker face begin to slip under a
building surge of terror.

*No! Control. Get under control. Ignore the damn wind,
it's just another part of this crazy place, it can't hurt you,
but Cologne can. Forget what's happened, just go from here, or
you'll end up just another body littering the ground. You
brought this gun for a reason, remember?*

Yes. She brought the gun, in spite of the fact that
marksmanship was just an exotically foreign hobby that she had
taken up (a bit subversively, due to certain... legalities) a few
months ago, because it was a form of self defense that didn't
involve getting beat to a pulp during training. She brought the
gun in spite of the fact that, until the past week, she had never
*really* thought about turning a gun on another living creature.

But she didn't want to be a liability to the expedition.
She wanted a way to defend herself so that her martial artist
friends wouldn't have to worry about protecting her all the time,
wouldn't have to worry about saving poor, defenseless Nabiki, who
didn't know how to fight and had never *physically* hurt anyone
in her entire life.

Violence really wasn't her cup of tea, after all...

And, through the ringing in her ears, Nabiki heard her own
voice again, so distant and calm that she had to wonder if the
sound could possibly be coming from her own throat.

"I think you're fast." Nabiki felt her cold, numb face
quirking into a well-practiced sneer. "But you're wounded. And
whether it's with a gun or a camera, I'm a *very* fast shot."

She didn't know where the words were coming from. *I've
been watching too many B-movies. Oh jeeze, she's smiling. I
can't believe she's smiling with that hole in her shoulder. Look
at all that blood! I must have hit an artery, I can't believe
she's still _standing_. How is that possible?!*

But then, she knew how it was possible.

She knew because for the past hour, she had breathed the air
surrounding the mountain of the Ancient One; air thick with
magic. And now, the voice of that damnable unearthly wind that
had come out of nowhere, whispering, soft and clammy... She
could feel the undeniable force of it inside her as it seeped
into the core of her fierce self-confidence, shaking her faith in
the laws of logic and reality, filling her head with
possibilities.

Possibilities. Terrible possibilities of things she would
never have imagined, if only she were still surrounded by the
sane civilization of the Tokyo suburbs.

Sure, at home she'd been around the constant strangeness of
the Jusenkyo-cursed victims. But she'd almost gotten used to
their water-induced shape-shifting, so that it was almost a
commonplace part of everyday life, no longer mysterious or
frightening.

Now, though, as she stood in the very land where the
Jusenkyo curses originated, as she saw a helpless cat, duck and
piglet lying unconscious where her friends once stood, she
realized anew just how terrible, how *unnatural* the curse magic
was.

Possibilities. Anything was possible, it seemed, in this
Chinese wilderness where dragons and demons dwelled, where a
splash of cursed water could transform your body into something
strange and alien, where invisible barriers granted or denied
access to mist-shrouded mountains on a whim, where the feeling of
enchantment lay heavy as a shroud on the landscape...

And where an old crone was standing as if she didn't have a
terrible, bloody bullet hole in her shoulder, her scarlet ki
lighting the gloom in lengthening tendrils of power.

Nabiki knew she was out of her element. The smoking gun in
her hands felt alien, out of place. She could almost sense the
whispering wind's disapproval for bringing such a terrible
technology into its midst. She felt the strange breeze brush
against her face and ruffle her hair with moist intangible
fingers that smelled of death.

And Cologne's battle aura was building. Even from nearly
ten meters, Nabiki could feel the intensity of Cologne's ki
prickle against her skin.

*Ki attack. She taught Ranma the Hyruu Shouten Ha, and
helped him create the Mouko Takabishya. Of course she can do ki
attacks.

*She's going to fry me.

*Just shoot her!* a part of her screamed. *Forget magic,
forget ki! Stop her before she kills you! It isn't murder, it's
self-defense! This is what you came prepared for, remember?*

Nabiki swallowed. Her finger tightened on the trigger.

And Cologne's withered, blood splattered smile widened into
a chilling grin. The crone raised her uninjured arm, a
blindingly bright bead of scarlet ki focused tightly in the palm
of her hand.

Nabiki's heart was a trapped bird, beating wildly against
her rib cage. *Now or never. Now or never, now or never now or
never now or--*

She didn't hear the shot. Only the hard recoil shuddering
through her arms and shoulders told her that she had fired.

Cologne didn't even flinch.

Nabiki blinked. Her heart seemed to freeze, seemed to sink
into her stomach.

*I missed?*

A deep, terrible calm settled through her. And suddenly she
was pulling the trigger, once, twice, a third time, feeling the
recoil jerking through her body...

...but there was no sound. No cracking shot. Not even the
acrid smell of powder.

*What the--?*

Nabiki looked at the gun. With a practiced flip of her
wrist and a twist of her fingers, she snapped the cylinder of the
gun out of alignment.

All six chambers were empty.

*No way. No _way_, dammit. I _know_ I loaded this
thing...*

*Fool,* the quivering, clammy magic wind whispered. Its
laughter filled her head.

And, as Cologne hoarsely shouted something in Mandarin,
there was a tremendous flash of light, and Nabiki knew it was too
late, she'd blown it, she was done for, a goner, for the scarlet
ki was roaring towards her and she couldn't seem to move, except
she could once again feel her face, and she knew that her mask
had shattered and that her terror was shining clearly from her
features for all to see as she felt death coming--

Something grabbed her from the side, around her waist. She
was yanked hard off her feet, but not quickly enough, because the
edge of the attack still caught her in the face, blasting her
senses like a hot wind, stealing the air from her lungs, sending
a black wave through her brain, washing away consciousness...

She resurfaced from the wave briefly, groaning, realizing in
amazement that she wasn't dead even as she felt her limp body
turned carefully in someone's arms. Through the black motes
swallowing up her vision, she caught a glimpse of her rescuer.

*K... Kuno?*

He had saved her, she realized incredulously. *What do you
know, he's actually useful for something other than money.*

But, as the darkness swallowed her again, she didn't have
time to hope that he would be smart enough to run.

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

Kuno's mind was whirling as he glanced down at Nabiki,
cradled in his arms. Looking up, he saw the old woman glaring at
him furiously, impervious to her horrible wound. Once again, her
ki began to focus into a bright speck of power in the palm of her
hand.

"That was a mistake, boy," she rasped.

Kuno blinked. The world had turned upside down. Nothing
that had happened since he regained consciousness at the foot of
this strange mountain made any sense.

He needed to think. His mind swam with images of small
animals and his fiery pig-tailed goddess... He needed to make
sense of the things he had seen and felt that had shattered the
adamantine wall of his personal perception.

But there was no time to think, because this old woman, who
had defeated his companions in mere moments, was getting ready to
attack him.

Honor demanded that he stay and fight to the end, of course.
And yet, he realized with sudden clarity, there was more at stake
here than his honor.

The lives of his companions, for instance. The life of the
girl he held in his arms.

His very sanity, perhaps.

He lifted his eyes to meet those of the old crone, pushing
back the overwhelming confusion in his mind, trying to ignore the
fierceness of the old woman's gaze and the power of her aura.

"I would challenge you," he intoned gravely, falling back on
to his old, virtually unconscious aphorism. *When in doubt, act
as if you're in control.* "But at this moment I believe...
discretion... is the better part of valor."

Cologne didn't respond. She merely stood, trembling with
fury, her aura blazing.

So, without another word, Kuno shifted Nabiki's limp form in
his arms and made haste for the thick of the forest. Bokken in
hand, he swiftly slashed his way through the heavy undergrowth,
not looking back to see if the old woman was following.

*Saotome Secret Technique,* he found himself thinking with
something akin to self-loathing. *Oh, that I have sunk so
low...*

But, as the image of his flame-haired goddess filled his
mind, only to flicker with the image of the hated Saotome, he
found that he wasn't quite sure what the true source of his self-
loathing was...

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

Cologne watched Kuno leave.

When he was gone, her aura died abruptly. She sagged weakly
to her knees, and thanked whatever gods that were listening that
the boy had fallen for her bluff.

The familiar, musty wind brushed her skin, laughing.

"Yes, he fell for it. But do you think it will do you any
good, even though he is gone?"

Cologne froze at the sound of the voice.

And as she looked up, her skin, already gray from shock and
loss of blood, turned even more pale.

"Yin Wu Ch'ang Kuei," she breathed.

The Ghost of Impermanence was taller than Cologne
remembered. Then again, it had been over half a century since
their last encounter, and Cologne wasn't as tall as she used to
be.

The Ghost's face was the same, though. Cold and dead, the
woman might once have been beautiful. Her skin was both the
color and texture of old rice paper, and her face, framed by
tangled, matted locks of heavy black hair, was spider-webbed with
a thin network of splotchy, broken blood veins bulging just under
the surface of the skin. Milky, sightless eyes gazed at the
ancient Amazon with unnerving accuracy. The Ghost smiled,
revealing a mouth black with mold.

"It has been a long time, old one," she said in a thick,
gurgling voice, as if her lungs were half full of murky water.
"Yet once again, your encroaching death summons me to collect
your soul. I am curious to see, will you escape my grasp this
time?"

Cologne's eyes narrowed, even as she trembled against the
dead numbness seeping from her shattered shoulder, spreading
throughout her body. "I am not quite ready to die just yet," she
murmured.

Yin Wu Ch'ang laughed, a strange, delighted burbling sound.
"Yes. You say that every time. But you just expended a great
deal of ki in your attack against that girl. And that is quite
an impressive hole she made in your body, I must say. She wanted
to make more holes, but I stopped her." The ghost's black smile
widened. "After all... what kind of a challenge would that be?"

Cologne gazed at her in stunned silence.

"How ever do you intend to patch it up?" the dead woman
whispered intently. "With leaves and sticks and mud?" She
glided forward, her blank, wet eyes rolling eagerly, and extended
a skeletal hand, the pale skin stretched tight over the bones.
"Whatever you are going to do, do it quickly, for you are dying,
old one. I can feel the pull of your soul. It longs for me to
come and help it shed your crumbling mortal carcass."

Since the first time Cologne had encountered this Chinese
emissary of Death, she had never quite understood the...
delight... the Ghost took in seeing her struggle to escape.

Perhaps it was because Yin Wu Ch'ang escorted only the souls
of the elderly to the afterlife, whereas her male counterpart,
Yang Wu Ch'ang, with the swollen, lolling tongue and the bloated,
purple face, dealt with the souls of the young. And while the
elderly passed on with perhaps a sigh or a wheeze, the young ones
usually had a spark of fight to them.

Well, if Yin Wu Ch'ang wanted a fight, she'd get one.
Cologne hadn't lived three centuries without knowing how to cheat
all kinds of death, after all. She may have been caught off
guard this time, but she was never fully unprepared.

She'd have to work fast, though. Yin Wu Ch'ang was gliding
closer, her thin, skeletal arms outstretched, reaching out to
harvest her soul...

Trembling violently as shock, pain and numbness seeped
through her frail, wounded body, Cologne reached deep into the
secret folds of her robes with her undamaged arm and pulled out a
small leather pouch, holding it carefully in her withered, blood-
stained hand.

Yin Wu Ch'ang smiled slightly as she saw the pouch. "Of
course. The Shards of the Apple. You've used this before, have
you not?"

Cologne would have shrugged if it was possible. As it was,
she was fighting the darkness flickering at the edges of her
vision with all her concentration.

The Shards were, of course, immeasurably old, remarkably
preserved pieces of fruit from the very first apple tree in the
world. Legend had it that the tree grew far to the north-east of
Qinghai province, in the Heilongjiang region, in ancient times.
Known to have fantastic healing properties, the fruit from that
tree cured the worst diseases and injuries, from blindness, to
strange and deadly wasting illnesses, to lost limbs...

Yin Wu Ch'ang was getting closer. "You might not make it,
even so," she whispered. Cologne could smell the dead woman's
rotten, musty breath, could feel it, soft and clammy on her skin.
"The Shards are old, and have lost most of their potency."

True, Cologne knew. But at this point, she didn't care. It
was her only chance.

"Ah." Yin Wu Ch'ang's milky eyes widened, and her black,
oozing mouth hung open with slack pleasure. "You are dying
quickly. Can you feel it? Can you feel your heartbeat slowing
under the entwining tendrils of death?"

Cologne could feel it. And, more than anything, she wanted
to tell the Ghost to shut up.

Instead, with what seemed like the supreme effort of
strength, she spread the puckered opening of the leather pouch
with two fingers.

There were only two Shards left. Two from the original
twelve that she had acquired as a young woman as spoils from a
long, bloody battle against an attempted invasion of the village.
Of course, if she could ever recover the Shards that the wretched
lecher Happosai had stolen from her, she would have at least four
more...

Reaching inside with shaking fingers, she plucked out a
papery-thin, shriveled brown object. Slowly, carefully, she
lifted it to her lips, and placed it on her tongue.

She closed her eyes, and felt the ancient shred of apple
dissolve in her mouth.
Nothing.

The gaping, dark bloody hole in her shoulder continued to
drain her life away...

"Yesssss..." She heard Yin Wu Ch'ang's dark, gurgling voice
right next to her ear, felt the cold, dead fingers caressing the
skin of her face...

*Please,* Cologne thought. *Please... I don't want to
die. Not now, not when I'm so close. It's almost over, I'm
almost finished. And then Shampoo can return to the village,
and, having fulfilled her debt of honor, with her rightful
husband by her side, my great-grandchild will finally have her
deserved place of honor on the council, she will be strong and
happy, and the tribe will be strong and happy *with* her,
*because* of her, she will be a living monument to both our noble
ancestors and her posterity...

*...and _then_ I can die in peace...*

A flash of fire shot through the nerves of Cologne's limbs,
so sharp and painful that her breath caught in her throat, and
her eyes flew open wide.

Yin Wu Ch'ang gasped, her skeletal hand jerking from
Cologne's face as if she'd touched a live wire.

Cologne's numb, dead shoulder began to tingle with the
barest flicker of life.

It was all she needed.

Summoning the last inner reserves of her ki, she focused her
sight inward, until she was aware of the weak throbbing of her
heart, of the blood threading through her veins, focusing smaller
and smaller until it seemed she was aware of each particle of her
being.

She focused on aiding the healing spark, leading it on its
microscopic journey through the cells of her destroyed shoulder.

Gradually, with her inner guidance, the spark worked its
healing power within her. Bleeding slowed as the ends of the
severed artery joined and fused. Veins and capillaries closed,
and shredded flesh pulled together. Shards of collar bone
shifted within the torn muscle, moving so painfully into place
that Cologne had to grit her teeth to keep from crying out.

But the magic was old, and had indeed lost much of its
potency. Cologne found the healing spark dimming, slipping from
her mental grasp...

The supernatural movement within her wound slowed, then
ceased.

There was severe pain. But pain was good. It told her that
she was alive. She could feel that the bone shards in her
shoulder were loose and unknit; that the wound, no longer a
gaping hole, but a mere puckered puncture, still trickled blood.

Her heartbeat was again steady and strong. Her ki was
restored. And with her ki, she could endure the remainder of the
injury.

She heard Yin Wu Ch'ang sigh. And, she was surprised to
realize, the sigh was almost a sound of... contentment?

"Well played, old one." Cologne could feel the Ghost's face
mere centimeters from her own, could smell her dank, rotting
breath as she spoke softly. "Another time, perhaps?"

Cologne opened her eyes slowly and met the Ghost's sightless
gaze. "Perhaps," she replied.

Without another word, the Ghost faded away in the cloud-
filtered sunlight.

Cologne knelt in silence for a long moment, unblinking.

Then, pushing herself to her feet, wincing in pain, she
hobbled over to where a small lavender-furred cat lay on the
stone ground, not far from an unconscious duck, piglet, and girl.

With great care, she lifted the limp cat, and cradled it
gently with her good arm.

She checked on the others. Alive, all of them, though Ryoga
would be unconscious for a while, considering the blow she gave
him. Ukyo lay face first on the ground. There was a bleeding
gash on the back of her head, where she had impacted with the
barrier, but her breathing was steady and strong. Mousse would
probably recover first, since he was the least stunned, but he
wouldn't be any trouble.

Deep within the folds of her robe, she could feel the small
vial of carefully-prepared liquid that would subjugate Ranma to
her forever, and restore her great-granddaughter's honor.

And as the musky whispering wind touched her skin one last
time, Cologne realized her face was wet with tears. Tears of
pain, fear, or relief, she couldn't say.

She had never felt so old.

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

Nabiki's eyes snapped open. Her heart pounded in her
throat, her hands clenched, and she felt grass and moss tear away
from the ground in her white-knuckled grip. She stared wildly at
the tangled mass of tree branches, budding with spring growth,
that mottled the gray sky before her.

She gazed at the sky, unable to breathe, feeling the weight
of her body pressed against the ground. She listened. The wind
blowing across her skin was almost warm, and smelled of fresh
leaves and earth. And, as she strained to hear with lingering
dread, she realized that the wind's only voice was nothing more
than the usual wordless whisper through the dense foliage that
surrounded her.

Not only that, but she could hear bird song, and the
trilling chirp of insects throughout the forest. Wherever she
was, she was in a place where nature seemed to be behaving in a
normal manner.

Slowly, carefully, she exhaled. Blades of uprooted grass
fell from her limp fingers.

*I'm alive,* she thought. *Well, how about that.*

"So. You're awake at last."

Nabiki sat up quickly -- and immediately regretted it as a
swelling ache reverberated through her skull. Groaning, she
pressed the palms of her hands against her throbbing temples.

Kuno favored her with an imperious half-lidded glare. He
sat cross-legged a meter or so away from her on a patch of thick
grass, his bokken resting across his up-turned palms, almost in
an attitude of meditation.

She glanced away, hoping that the surprise she felt didn't
register on her face. "So," she replied, massaging her head with
her fingertips. "You *did* run away."

Kuno's supercilious expression twitched, and, for a moment,
his hands clenched around his bokken. "What would you have had
me do?" he asked coldly. "Stay, that we might both be killed?"

"Not at all," she said, dropping her hands into her lap,
noticing with mild dismay that they were shaking. "I'm just
surprised you had the guts to do it."

"'Guts?'" Kuno's lip curled in sudden disgust, and he
dropped his gaze. "There is no courage, no honor in fleeing a
battle just to save one's own life."

Nabiki sighed heavily. "Yeah, whatever." She could feel
her body's desire to just collapse back onto the ground and
tremble in post-traumatic reaction. She wanted to wrap her arms
around her chest and let the fear pour out of her in sobs and
screams, let it seep out of her skin and back into the
atmosphere, until she once again felt like herself.

But no. She'd come this far, and she'd be damned if she'd
lose control now and let her body overrule her mind. Especially
in front of Kuno.

She turned to look him in the face, her expression carefully
neutral. "And you didn't just save your own life," she said.
"We're both perfectly aware that I would probably be splattered
across the landscape if you hadn't grabbed me and run. Amazing
though it is, you actually did something smart. So let's cut the
'soiled honor' crap, and figure out what we're going to do now."

Kuno blinked, his condescending expression slipping
slightly. He opened his mouth to respond, but then he stopped
and stared at her a long moment, as if unsure whether or not to
be angry. "You have an unusual way of expressing gratitude,
Nabiki Tendo," he said at last.

She glanced at him sharply.

"Thank you," she said, "for saving my life."

"You're welcome."

They stared at each other, like two unyielding statues.

"Well, now that that's over with, let's get going." Nabiki
pushed herself to her feet with determination, gritting her teeth
against a wave of dizziness.

Kuno looked up at her from his sitting position. "Really.
And what, exactly, is your intended destination?"

Nabiki blinked at him. *I'm going back to the mountain,*
she wanted to say. *I'm going back to save the others from
Cologne.*

The thought was so ludicrous even as it came into her mind,
that her composed expression almost slipped into a scowl. Go
back? And do what? Give the old ghoul a chance to finish her
off?

Infuriatingly enough, she saw from the look on Kuno's face
that this had already occurred to him.

The very idea of going back at this point was ridiculous.
No doubt Cologne would be able to sense her approach long before
she could be in a position to do anything. Not that she could
actually *do* anything anyway. Her plans, her calculating logic,
even her ace-in-the-hole... All had been rendered completely
useless by the chaotic element of... magic.

That damned wind...

Her stomach slowly clenched, sending bile into her throat.
She, Nabiki Tendo, the *smart* one, was completely, utterly
helpless, unable to do anything to save her friends.

And on top of that, Kuno's somber, uncharacteristically
rational calm was really getting on her nerves. How dare he be
so composed at a time like this? He should be rending the air
with passionate poetry at this point, bewailing their misfortune
and the unknown fate of his Pig-tailed goddess. Not sitting
there like some damned meditating monk.

"How long have I been unconscious?" she asked.

If Kuno noticed, or even cared about her changing the
subject, he gave no sign. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders in
a casual gesture that was deeply unsettling in its lack of
pomposity, though his face still held a look of cool arrogance.
"I haven't been keeping track of the time," he said. "An hour.
Maybe longer."

Nabiki bristled. She hadn't realized so much time had
passed. "And what have you been doing all this time?" she
demanded.

"Thinking."

She stifled the urge to snort derisively.

"And it seems to me," Kuno continued, his voice carefully
level, "that we can do nothing except wait for Ranma to return
from the mountain."

Nabiki looked at him, and raised a contemptuous eyebrow. "I
don't believe it," she said. "The mighty 'Blue Thunder of
Furinkan High' is just going to sit here and wait for his 'Pig-
tailed Girl' to come back and save him?"

Kuno's jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened with such
intensity that Nabiki was momentarily startled. Then, to her
further amazement, Kuno lowered his gaze. Slowly, he took a
deep, shaky breath.

"I would think that you would agree with me, Nabiki Tendo,"
he said softly. "After all, with... his... exceptional skill and
determination... Ranma may be our only hope to defeat the old
woman."

Silence. Nabiki stared at Kuno, too stunned to even blink.
After a long moment, he slowly lifted his gaze and regarded her
with a hostile defiance that practically dared her to mock him in
the face of his quiet admission.

*Incredible,* she thought, as she abruptly comprehended
Kuno's strange behavior. *I don't believe it. He's finally
figured it out.*

Nabiki exhaled her breath in a whoosh. Her amazement was
clear and she made no attempt to hide it. She hadn't missed
Kuno's amazingly straightforward compliment of Ranma's martial
arts skill, either.

"So," she said carefully, "you've finally accepted Ranma's
curse, eh?"

His eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched. "The evidence," he
said, "that presented itself at the mountain was... most
convincing."

"You mean, with the others? Shampoo and Mousse?" *And
Ryoga,* she thought suddenly. *That's right, he's cursed too.
He's P-chan.*

She pushed the disturbing thought, with all its
implications, aside, and focused her gaze on Kuno. "Come on.
You've seen them change before. Hell, _Ranma's_ changed right in
front of you, and you never figured it out."

A shadow crossed Kuno's face, and his mouth pinched in a
severe frown. His eyes were steel as he gazed at her, and again,
Nabiki was startled at his intensity.

Startled, yes. But damned if she'd show it. Damned if
she'd give the arrogant, idiotic bastard the satisfaction of
seeing her shaken by his strange behavior.

"So, Nabiki Tendo," he said slowly, deliberately. His
knuckles were white around the wooden bokken. "Are you
suggesting that I was the only one who had a few self-delusions
shattered at the base of that mountain?"

Nabiki's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" she asked.
Just what *had* he been thinking about while she was unconscious?

But, as she saw his face, she knew exactly what he meant.
And she couldn't tell if she was more amazed that thick-skulled,
air-headed Kuno had asked the question... or that he'd had the
clarity of sight to see into her hidden heart.
She realized that her palms were sweating again.

The bastard. How dare he turn her question around on her?

"For one thing," he replied, "it seems rather foolish to me
that you would go through all the trouble of bypassing our native
firearms laws to acquire a gun, and even smuggle the distasteful
weapon through Chinese customs... only to load it with a single
bullet to face a powerful enemy."

Nabiki's throat was dry; all the moisture had evaporated
from her mouth. "The gun," she said hoarsely, "was loaded. All
six chambers."

"Indeed," Kuno replied coldly. "Then how do you account for
what happened when you attempted to fire the gun a second time?"

Nabiki blinked. She couldn't account for it, of course.
Though, insanely, her gut, her inner instinct told her to say,
*It was the wind.*

That strange, unearthly wind that smelled of her own
mortality, that blew away the comforting veils of self-
delusion...

She had thought she was untouchable; her logic infallible.
With her fiercely calculating brain, she could plan for any and
every contingency. A clear, rational mind would succeed over
chaos every time.

Wrong. Self-delusion shattered.

Kuno was -- damn him -- right.

Nabiki stared at him, this creature who wore Kuno's face and
spoke harsh logic instead of inane archaisms. *It's a
changeling,* she thought. *A doppelganger. He's been abducted
by aliens, and replaced with a pod person.*

And she grimaced inwardly at her very line of thought. *By
the gods,* she thought, gazing numbly at the young man sitting
before her. *I'm turning into Kuno.*

She almost laughed at the realization, at the irony of it
all. *Don't like reality? Then create one that's more
comfortable. Kuno and I could go into business together.
Creative Realities. Realities R Us. Kuno can happily lust after
his Pig-tailed goddess forever, while I rule the world through
perfectly calculated manipulations...

She had a choice now.

She could go on, she knew, and pretend that nothing had
happened. Pretend that the whole experience of the afternoon was
nothing more than a momentary lapse, and that she hadn't been
affected in the least by... shooting someone. Seeing her
perceptions of reality shattered. Feeling death come rushing at
her in a fiery, scarlet blast...

And now, the fear. The gnawing uncertainty, bordering on
terror, of what was to come...

Inexplicably, she felt her eyes grow wet.

Why did reality have to be so damn painful? To admit that
she could lose control. That she, Nabiki Tendo, the calm,
collected, always-in-control ice queen, could be fragile,
frightened, helpless... unable to think of a way out...

Unable to _think_...

*So, Nabiki. How do you account for what happened when you
attempted to fire the gun a second time?*

Nabiki looked directly into Kuno's eyes. He was still
waiting for her answer.

She wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans, and didn't care
that Kuno saw.

"It... was the wind," she said softly.

And Kuno's hard, angry gaze softened. "Yes," he said. "I
know."

After all the surprises, this didn't surprise her at all.

What did amaze her was the sudden relief she felt in her
chest, the sudden lightness, as if a black burden had been
dispelled.
This wasn't so bad, she realized. Being scared and
uncertain. Showing weakness, fallibility...

"You heard it too?" she asked.

Kuno's frown mellowed, even turned up at one corner into a
wry, bitter half-smile. "'Fool,'" he quoted. "But, to be
honest, I thought it was speaking to me."

Nabiki laughed, sharp and humorless, and eased her shaking
legs back into a sitting position on the grass. "Perhaps," she
said, looking past Kuno to the forest beyond, "it was speaking to
both of us."

"Perhaps."

Nabiki leaned forward, with her elbows on her knees, and
rested her chin in one hand in a very weary gesture.

They sat together in uneasy silence.

"What of the others?" Kuno asked quietly.

Nabiki closed her eyes as if in pain. It was the very
question that had been subversively eating at her insides from
the moment she regained consciousness. Of course Kuno would have
to ask; no doubt it had been haunting him as well.

She sighed. "Your guess is as good as mine, Kuno."

"No, it is not. You are more familiar with the others, as
well as the old woman. Surely you can surmise whether or not she
will harm our fallen companions."

Nabiki looked up, irritated. "Anything I *surmise* won't do
us a bit of good, because there's no way of knowing for sure if
they're safe or not. So what's the point? Face it, Kuno, we're
completely powerless, and if we try to guess what's going on,
either with Cologne and the others, or even Ranma on the
mountain, it's just going to drive us both crazy. So drop it,
okay?"

Kuno blinked, surprised. Then his expression settled to one
of indifference, tinged with annoyance. "Very well," he said
coldly. "I merely asked because of the unusual talent you have
so often displayed in the past for calculating the odds in
numerous and diverse circumstances. I assumed this ability of
yours stemmed from critical observation and an intimate knowledge
of the parties involved. Apparently I was mistaken. I was
unaware that your ability was based instead upon your ego, which
indeed has suffered a serious blow this day."

Nabiki's teeth clenched, and she winced as she bit the
inside of her cheek. *The manipulative bastard!* she thought
angrily. Yet this thought was immediately followed with a tinge
of grudging respect. *Who knew he had it in him?*

Kuno was just full of surprises today.

"Fine. You want to know what I think?" Nabiki sat up and
glared at him as she counted the points off on her fingers.
"Here's the deal. First of all, Cologne won't harm Shampoo.
Mousse is another matter, but because he's an Amazon, I suspect
that if he tries to give Cologne any trouble, she'll merely
subdue him, and then deal out whatever Amazon punishment applies.
Which hopefully doesn't involve death or torture of any kind.

"As for Ryoga... Well, the old ghoul was pretty vicious
when she smashed him into the ground, but I'm hoping that it's
just because he's as sturdy and thick-skulled as a pig as he is
as a human, and she knew it would take more to knock him
unconscious. And besides, I've always had the impression that
she was at least mildly fond of him, ever since she trained him a
while back.

"Ukyo, on the other hand..." Nabiki paused as a ripple of
apprehension shivered down her spine on behalf of her friend.
Ukyo had been Shampoo's rival for Ranma's affection for a long
time, which probably had not endeared her to the old crone. And
if she regained consciousness, and tried to attack Cologne
again...

Kuno frowned as Nabiki's expression clouded. "You believe
she is in danger," he said.

Nabiki gave him a wry, worried look. "If she wakes up
before Ranma returns, she'll be in the best position to give
Cologne the most trouble. I just hope she's smart enough to run
away as quickly as possible, rather than try to fight it out
alone."
Inwardly, she winced. *Ukyo, back out of a fight when
someone is threatening Ranma? Yeah, right. Ukyo, please stay
unconscious.*

A somber expression flitted across Kuno's face. "Then,
truly, you are the only one that Cologne has the desire to kill."

Nabiki grimaced.

*Obstacles for killing.*

Nabiki wondered if she should feel proud that she was the
only one that Cologne actually considered an obstacle.

"Yeah, well," she said, as nonchalantly as she could manage.
"Aside from the fact that I just blew a big hole in her shoulder,
she's had a bone to pick with me for quite some time. I'm pretty
sure I'm in the number one spot of her 'Least Favorite People'
list."

Kuno blinked. "Indeed."

She looked at him sharply. "Now remember, I could be
completely off in my calculations. Cologne just might be a
raving lunatic out to kill everybody who gets in her way. For
all I know, everybody is already dead. Including Ranma. And
were stuck here in the middle of nowhere until we join them."

Kuno's mouth twitched into an almost-smile. "I believe that
I prefer to trust in your calculations, Nabiki Tendo."

Nabiki sighed heavily as she wrapped her arms around her
knees. "Whatever. As I said before, you can choose your own
fantasy, Kuno. My theory may be a bit more pleasant than the
alternative, but until we've got the solid facts... it's just a
fantasy."

Kuno didn't respond, but merely raised an eyebrow at her.

They lapsed into silence once again. The air was warm.
Nabiki noticed, with a deep melancholy that was settling over
her, that the afternoon shadows were lengthening.

Though she couldn't deny that this new, enlightened Kuno was
a vast improvement over the insipid idiot he'd been, she was
still deeply... annoyed... that he had been a catalyst for her
own epiphany. Sure, she could accept that she was imperfect.
She could even grant that Kuno had more brains than she'd ever
given him credit for.

But that didn't mean she had to like it.

As the thought crossed her mind, the corner of her mouth
quirked as she realized how...deeply childish the sentiment was.
How terribly petty and unimportant, in the face of what they had
just experienced, as well as the trials that lay before them.

*Well, how about that,* she thought with wry amusement.
*I'm _pouting._*

After a long moment, she gave Kuno a sidelong glance. "Hey.
About what you said earlier."

"What?"

"You know, about waiting for Ranma to get back. I think
you're right. It's our best bet. If anyone can defeat the old
ghoul, he can."

Kuno looked at her pointedly, but his expression had long
since lost the defensive arrogance he'd worn earlier. In fact,
he seemed almost pleased at this, the first time Nabiki had
actually conceded that he was right about something.

"This is one of the dilemmas I have pondered whilst you were
unconscious," he said. "How will we know when Ranma returns from
the mountain? We dare not return before hand, and, even should
he be victorious against the old woman, he knows not where we
are."

Nabiki looked over at him slowly. "Very insightful, Kuno,"
she mused. "Who would have thought that a semblance of a mind
existed under that vapid exterior of yours?"

Kuno returned her half-lidded gaze. "Who would have thought
that a human being existed under that frigid granite facade of
yours, Nabiki Tendo?"

Nabiki almost smiled. "Touche."

And then she fought the urge to turn away, squelching her
pride that still seemed insistent on not giving an inch to this
guy. But she was sure that Kuno's ego was bigger than hers, and
yet, after an afternoon filled with his own cruel, soul-altering
revelations... *he* had it in him to eat humble pie.

Well, if he could do it without gagging, so could she.

"But to answer your question," she said, "one thing is
certain. Ranma won't come back without Akane. When he rescues
my sister from the Kami Plane, I'm betting that our memories of
her will be restored. And *that*, Kuno, will be our signal to go
back."

"Memories?" Kuno raised an eyebrow. "To what are you
referring?"

Nabiki looked at him. "That's right, you don't know about
the blood spell, or Akane in the Kami Plane."

Kuno frowned slightly. "I am assuming, from your words,
that your 'long lost sister' is not truly held captive by a
dragon on that cursed mountain, as you originally expounded."

"Not exactly."

His expression was somber as he held her gaze. "Perhaps it
is time you fully enlightened me as to the real reason we have
made this journey, Nabiki Tendo."

Nabiki nodded.

And so, in precise detail, without withholding a single
secret, she told him. Everything.

When she was finished, they sat together, neither speaking,
neither quite looking at the other.

"From what you have told me," Kuno said at last, "there is a
great chance that Ranma might not return from his quest to
challenge the Ancient One."

Nabiki shivered, her arms still wrapped tightly around her
knees. She stared at the grass in front of her feet.

Ranma might not survive the mountain, true.

But if, by some miracle, he did survive, did manage to
rescue her sister and return... what then?

Cologne had sounded so sure of herself, when she had told
Shampoo that Ranma would be returning... willingly... with them
to their Amazon village. And Cologne was many things, but she
was not a fool. She would not have risked so much if she weren't
positive of the outcome.

Cologne wanted Ranma, wanted him as a slave-husband for
Shampoo. And she had confronted their little traveling party at
the base of the mountain, fully expecting to accomplish that
exact objective.

How?

Nabiki didn't know. But she had a few suspicions, and they
terrified the hell out of her.

Death at the hands of demons might be a better fate. Gods
forbid.

"Yeah," she said finally, hoarsely. "Shampoo didn't seem
too keen on his chances of survival against the demon guardians
without the protection of the wards."

Kuno looked at her a long moment. "I see." He closed his
eyes.

Nabiki pulled at the blades of grass at her feet.

The wind brushed past them, softly, voicelessly. Above
them, a few dim stars glinted in the darkening sky as the sun
sank beneath the horizon. The spring mountain air was warm, and
full of sound.

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

Akane stood facing a lush, green valley. Above her, a
sunless blue sky shone with its own light. Beyond the valley,
jagged, snow-capped mountains loomed like watchful sentinels.
She could hear the sound of a burbling stream nearby. And behind
her, the edge of the Mists of Kami swirled and writhed at her
feet.

"Susa-no-o!" she called.

Silence. The wind whispering through the tall grasses and
tugging at the loose hair of her braid was her only reply.

Damn it! Where was he? He *had* to be here. He himself
said that he couldn't leave his personal realm without the
Council jumping down his throat.

"Susa-no-o!"

She couldn't face the Shadowcat without his help. The demon
was already on its way to the dimensional rip that led to the
Ancient One's mountain. It had a head start. On top of that,
she knew damn well that, if she fought the Shadowcat now, even at
her skill level, it would most likely kill her.

What was the good of being able to fight demons if she
didn't have the power to destroy the one that really mattered?

If only she had more time to train, to build her strength
and speed enough so that she might be a match for the Shadowcat.
But there was no time. She was risking a great deal just coming
to Susa-no-o's realm in the first place, when she should be
looking for the dimensional rip.

She was running out of time. And Ranma's soul was at stake.

"Susa-no-o! Answer me!"

Silence.

"Please!" Tears of frustration began to well up in her
eyes. "If you're worried about me being angry that you
transported me to Yuki-onna's domain, don't be! I'm not mad,
really, I promise!"

Silence.

"Answer me, damn it! I know you're here!"

"Ah, but he's not."

Akane jerked around, her katana immediately unsheathed and
ready, to see a small figure emerge from the black mists.

The diminutive man wore a long scarlet robe that hung
heavily on his almost skeletally thin frame. His face was narrow
and pinched, and his head was topped with a wiry thatch of
yellowish white hair. The pale skin of his face, and the exposed
skin of his arms and hands, were pocked with deep scars, as if
puberty had been especially unkind to him.

Akane recognized him. She had met him once, briefly, a year
or so ago, during her wanderings of the Kami Plane. The
encounter had not been pleasant, as this particular deity came
across as bitter, defensive and aloof. And, like so many others,
he had laughed in her face when she had asked for his help in
breaking the blood spell.

"Hoso-no Kami," she gasped. *Oh great. What is _he_ doing
here?*

The God of Smallpox sneered up at her. "Pathetic little
mortal. It only makes sense that you come running to this
disreputable scoundrel for help."

Akane's eyes narrowed. She'd been intimidated by this deity
in their previous encounter, but she'd changed a lot since then.
Also, she knew from Susa-no-o that, out of all the gods, Hoso-no
Kami wasn't much of a threat to anyone ever since a mortal
vaccine had nearly wiped out the source of his power. There were
only two strains of smallpox left in the mortal world, both kept
safely isolated in scientific laboratories, and both were
scheduled for total destruction in a few mortal years.

Hoso-no Kami was in no position to be snobbish.

She held her sword ready and glared at him. "Who are you
calling 'pathetic,' you..." What had Susa-no-o called him? "You
whiny little weasel-faced runt!"

She had the immense satisfaction of watching as Hoso-no
Kami's pale face turned an interesting shade of red as his teeth
clenched in fury. The scars on his face deepened to an angry
purple. "Impudent child," he snarled. He took a menacing step
forward, but Akane's battle aura flared, her sword flashed with
power, and he froze, his cheek twitching as he eyed the blade
with sudden nervousness.

"Where is Susa-no-o?" she demanded.

Hoso-no Kami eased away from her sword as subtly as
possible, mustering the remains of his dignity. Then lifting his
gaze to look her in the eyes, his pockmarked face split into a
wickedly condescending grin. "It gives me great pleasure to
inform you," he said silkily, "that in a unanimous ruling from
the Council, the 'Impetuous Male' has been banished indefinitely
to Yomi Land."

Akane blinked. Her skin felt suddenly cold.

Susa-no-o... banished? To Yomi Land? The terrible, hellish
realm where the unwilling inhabitants suffered infinite,
indescribable torment...

"Why?" she whispered hoarsely. "What did he do?"

Hoso-no Kami smirked. "He helped you, of course."

Akane paled.

Hoso-no Kami smiled smugly and crossed his thin, scarred
arms over his chest. "Yes, I'm afraid he disobeyed the strict
stipulations against interference with mortals that were placed
on him by Izanagi, Izanami, and Ama-terasu. Oh, he was very
subtle at first. The comb he gave you was very clever. It
disguised his power so carefully that we nearly didn't catch him.
But then, when he used all that raw power just to teleport you
out of the Gaki Realm to safety..." His eyes glinted with dark
amusement. "Well, it wasn't too hard to figure out what he'd
been up to."

Akane glared at the diminutive deity, trembling, her eyes
wet with tears.

No wonder Susa-no-o hadn't answered her mental calls through
the comb when she awoke in Yuki-onna's domain.

He wouldn't be able to help her with the Shadowcat; wouldn't
be able to help her save Ranma...

And he was banished to Yomi Land. He was suffering, and
would suffer for who-knows-how-long, all because of her, all for
her sake...

Hoso-no Kami stood before her, gloating as he watched all of
those horrified realizations play across her face.

"You bastard," she whispered, her voice catching in her
throat. "How could you punish someone just because they helped
me?"

"Quite easily." Hoso-no Kami regarded her coolly. "He knew
the rules; he broke them. Susa-no-o is an arrogant,
insubordinate trouble-maker, who never should have been let out
of Yomi Land in the first place. It is only fitting that he
should spend the rest of eternity suffering for his lack of
respect for his superiors."

Akane could barely contain her fury. "And I suppose you
consider yourself his superior?"

"Of course. I *am* on the Council, after all."

He was on the Council. He had helped repay Susa-no-o's
kindness towards her with unspeakable punishment.

Akane's battle aura blazed a blinding azure, licking along
the blade of her katana. "Get. Out. Of. My. Face," she
snarled slowly, "before I do something I probably should
regret... but won't."

Hoso-no Kami just stared at her blankly for a moment,
unflinching before the power of her ki.

Then, he winked at her.

"That's my girl, Akane-chan," he said in a strong tenor
voice, instead of the nasal whine he'd spoken with before. A
wicked smile lit his scarred face. "What a little spitfire you
are."

Akane blinked. Then, slowly, her expression went slack with
shock.

"Suh..." Her battle ki flickered uncertainly. "Susa-no-o?"
Her voice was heavy with disbelief.
He grinned, brought a thin finger up to his puckered lips,
and winked again. "Shhh," he whispered conspiratorially. "Don't
want this getting around, know what I mean?"

She blinked again, looking into Hoso-no Kami's eyes, as if
hoping to see Susa-no-o's obsidian black gaze staring back at
her. But the eyes were just a murky brown.

"Is it really you?" she asked, suspecting a trick of some
kind.

He threw his arms open wide. "In the flesh. Someone else's
flesh, to be precise." And he laughed.

The laugh clinched it. She would have recognized that
boisterous, arrogant chuckle anywhere.

Her eyes were wet, and her lips began to tremble. Susa-no-
o. He was here, he was safe, he could help her...

"You..." Her wet eyes suddenly hardened. "You *bastard!*"

Susa-no-o's cocky demeanor suddenly slipped. Then his eyes
widened in alarm, and he leaped back as Akane took a fierce swipe
at him with her katana. "Whoa! Akane-chan, what--?"

"Don't 'Akane-chan' me," she cried, swiping at him again as
he frantically dodged. "I was *worried* about you, you JERK!"

Susa-no-o ducked, and a few of his wiry gray hairs fluttered
down around his pockmarked face. But the grin was back, looking
very odd on Hoso-no Kami's face. "Ah yes!" he crowed. "Truly,
one of my finest performances!"

Akane choked back a shriek of outrage, grinding her teeth
together. She was angry, yes. But, on a much deeper level, she
was so incredibly relieved, she could taste it.

So instead of shrieking, she paused in her attack, and eyed
the god levelly. "Hey. You said once that you could recover
easily from dismemberment, right?"

Susa-no-o blinked at her, surprised, then glanced at her
sword. His smile became somewhat lopsided. "Um. Er. No?"

"Liar!" She swiped at him again. But now, *she* was
smiling, her narrowed brown eyes glinting.

He twisted out of the way. "I'm impressed, Akane. Here I
thought you had no sense of humor." He said it cheerfully, but a
bit of the smugness was gone from his voice, she noted with
satisfaction.

"Oh yes, you're a barrel of laughs. Now shall we see if I
can make your personality even more 'dis-arming?'"

Susa-no-o groaned. "I take it back. That was a terrible
pun. Besides, I know you don't actually plan on touching me with
that thi-- ack!" A large piece of red sleeve from his robe
fluttered to the ground. "Hey!"

"You were saying?" Akane smiled sweetly. Actually, he was
right, she had no intention of hurting him, but she was enjoying
this too much to quit now. *Let's see if the trickster can take
it as well as dish it out.*

He must have read her mind, because his expression became
pained. "Akane, come on!" he pleaded. "I was just giving you a
taste of my brilliant performance before the Council, so you
could appreciate what I'm going through for you!"

That brought Akane up short. His performance before the
Council? "What are you talking about?"

Susa-no-o sighed, a sign that he was going to start talking
seriously. Akane relaxed her aggressive stance slightly. "What
I told you before was true," he said. "The Council did find me
out when I transported you to the Snow Woman's realm after you
were so severely injured by the Shadowcat. The comb disguised my
power, but unfortunately it wasn't strong enough to teleport you
such a great distance. So I used it as a kind of power
amplifier, and then just went all out to get you to safety." He
pulled a bitter face. "The Council came after me a few minutes
later."

Akane's eyes were wide. "What did you do?"

"Nothing much I could do, at that point. After all, not
even I have the power to fight the entire Council. So they took
me away for judgment, and unanimously voted to banish me to Yomi
Land. Again." Susa-no-o's frown was genuine, looking very sour
on Hoso-no Kami's face.

"But..." Akane gestured with baffled frustration at the
form of Hoso-no Kami. "What happened? Why do you look like
that?"

"Oh, this?" Susa-no-o glanced down at himself, with
something akin to distaste. "Well, before they could carry out
the judgment, I switched places with ol' Mr. Smallpox here. I
knew that nobody would pay any attention to a miserable,
powerless little has-been like him." A wicked grin melted Susa-
no-o's scowl. "Heh. You should have seen his face when he
realized what happened. He started going on and on to the
Council about how I'd switched places with him. They didn't buy
it. They thought it was *me* putting on an act." He chuckled.

Akane was appalled. "Then... Hoso-no Kami is..."

"In Yomi Land, yeah. But hey, he looks like *me,* while *I*
have to walk around looking like *this* for a couple of eons."
Susa-no-o grimaced. "Trust me, he got the better end of the
deal."

"But... the 'infinite torment'..." Akane's mind was filled
with horrible images of various kinds of terrible, physical
torture. Even Hoso-no Kami didn't deserve such a fate.

Susa-no-o snorted. "Oh, Yomi Land is infinite torment, all
right. There is absolutely *nothing* to do there. It's quite
possibly the most boring place in the universe. And just *try*
getting a decent cup of cappuccino."

Akane blinked. "You're putting me on."

The deity cocked an eyebrow at her, enigmatically. "What's
the matter? You're worried about Hoso-no Kami? The guy who did
his best to spread an insidious, painful, disfiguring disease
across the mortal world, killing countless numbers of people
throughout history? Your pity is misplaced, Akane-chan.
Besides, if I survived Yomi Land, he will too. It's not like
he's going to be there forever. Believe me, if he were, I'd
trade places with him in a second just to get my body back. Now,
don't we have more important things to worry about at the
moment?"
He was right. If she was going to be able to do anything to
stop the Shadowcat and save Ranma, they had to act immediately.

"You know why I came looking for you, don't you?" she asked.

Susa-no-o rolled his eyes impatiently. "Of course."

"Good." She'd figured as much. Straightening, she sheathed
her katana, and looked at him seriously. "Will that little trick
you showed me, of focusing on a destination while traveling
through the Mists, work for finding the dimensional rip that
leads to the Mountain of the Ancient One?"

"It will."

Without another word, Akane turned and started for the
Mists. She paused when she noticed that Susa-no-o wasn't
following. "What are you waiting for? Let's go."

"Well..." Susa-no-o looked at her sideways. "I can't go
with you, actually."

She turned on him, exasperated. "What? Why not? You know
I need your help! I can't fight the Shadowcat by myself, and,
now that you're disguised as Hoso-no Kami, you can go anywhere
you want, right? I mean, you weren't here when I arrived, so
you're no longer confined to your domain!"

"Think about it, Akane." Susa-no-o crossed his arms over
his chest, and looked at her levelly. "If 'Hoso-no Kami' is
found hanging out with you all of a sudden, especially around
that particular dimensional weakness, the Council might think
twice about dismissing ol' Mr. Personality's claim that we
switched bodies."

Akane grit her teeth in frustration. She hadn't thought of
that, but he was right. And she definitely didn't want to risk
attracting the Council's unwanted attention. "Then can you give
me another comb or something?"

"Sorry, I'm fresh out of cloaking combs." Susa-no-o
shrugged in mock-helplessness. "Those things don't grow on
trees, you know, and you broke my last one."

She wasn't sure whether to cry, or just punch him in the
face. Her fists clenched, just in case she decided on the
latter. "Well, then what *can* you do? I'm running out of time,
damn it!"

He smirked. "Calm down, Akane-chan. I wouldn't have risked
coming to see you in the first place if I didn't intend to help
you. Here." He tossed something long and thin at her, and she
caught it easily with one hand.

It was a dagger, about 15 centimeters long, encased in a
sheath made of some hard, glossy black material that she couldn't
identify. Carefully, she took it in both hands, eased the blade
from it's casing...

...and gasped.

The blade was translucent like glass, and it pulsed with
quiet energy, as if it was made out of refined starlight.

"What is..." She caught herself. "I mean, what does it
do?" she asked.

"It cuts things."

She glared at him. "Like smart-mouth deities?"

Susa-no-o chuckled. "No, really, I'm serious."

Akane stared at him incredulously. "What am I supposed to
cut? You can't seriously expect me to get close enough to the
Shadowcat to cut it with this little thing, do you?"

"Maybe."

"You have got to be kidding." She slid the small, pulsing
blade back into its sheath and eyed the god, frowning severely.
"Why do I get the feeling that you're not telling me everything?"

"Because I'm not." He grinned. "I always knew you were
more perceptive than you looked."

Akane felt her irritation sizzle into outright anger.
Swallowing hard, she forced back the urge to snap at him, and
spoke with a calmness that surprised even her. "Look," she said
coldly. "This isn't a joke. Ranma's soul and my life are on the
line here. Stop playing around and talk to me straight for
once." She felt the sting of tears burn her eyes. "Please."

Susa-no-o's smirk faded. "Hey. Come on, Akane-chan."

"No more mind games," she said hoarsely. "I want the
truth."

He sighed. "All right, listen. I can't tell you what to do
with that knife because, to be honest, I don't even know if it
will do you any good at all." He met her gaze and, to her
astonishment, she thought she saw a tinge of... apprehension in
his eyes.

*He's afraid,* she realized with a jolt.

No, more than that. He was afraid for *her.*

The shock of that discernment rippled through her like a
cold chill, and a sudden dread filled the pit of her stomach.

"I wish I could help you more," he said softly. "But this
is the way it is. I may be able to wander around the Kami Plane
as I please, now that I'm wearing a different skin, but
unfortunately, it also means I'm more limited in my power than I
ever was before. After all, Hoso-no Kami isn't known for being a
serious magic producer. So you'll just have to trust me." He
looked pointedly at the blade in her hands. "When the time comes
for you to use that knife, you'll know what to do with it."

"But how do you know?" she asked. "Can you see the future?"
Her voice was trembling.

"No." Susa-no-o smiled grimly. "But I can see you. I know
you. You're about to walk into the biggest death trap you've
ever encountered. You won't be invisible to the Shadowcat this
time." He reached out, and put a comforting hand on her
shoulder. "But if anyone can save Ranma's soul, you can."

She nodded fiercely. Susa-no-o's grave words terrified her.
"I will," she whispered. "Or I'll die trying."

"Yes."

Akane didn't ask which part of her oath he was agreeing
with.

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

Ranma spun as he felt the fetid breath on the back of his
neck, and drove a ki-powered kick into a demon's face. He felt
the thick exoskeleton give under the impact with a sickening
crunch, but didn't pause to contemplate as he leaped out of the
way of the other demon's reaching black claws.

Damn. These demons were faster than the others. He didn't
even have time to wipe the blood out of his eyes, trickling down
his forehead from where he'd been grazed a few moments earlier.

He had long since given up firing his ki attacks. It took
too long to form the powerful ball of energy in his hands, and
then fire it towards whichever slavering, bristling abomination
from the darkest pit of hell was closest, before the monster was
practically on top of him trying to bite off his head. So
instead, he kept his fierce ki focused tightly around his body,
around his arms and legs, and just used himself as a blunt
instrument of demonic destruction.

How long had he been at this? Minutes? Hours? Days? He
couldn't tell, couldn't dwell on something as unimportant as the
passage of time, when he was fighting, constantly fighting for
his life...

It felt like years.

...slash, punch, kick, jump... A demon falls at his feet,
dead, yet somehow still moving... only to be replaced by more
from the darkness... an endless, replenishing supply of creatures
from nightmare.

And, of course, there were the ones that didn't come out to
fight. The ones that stayed hidden in the dark mist, calling out
to him, mocking him, shouting at him, pleading with him,
screaming and crying and sobbing... all with Akane's voice.
Their tormenting calls mingled with the incessant drone of the
spell voices in his head, and he did his best to ignore them all.

He was so tired.

Where the hell was the top of the mountain? He'd been
climbing for ages.

A quick thrust of his stiff-fingered hand, and the clawed
demon collapsed with a gurgling shriek.

Gah. He hated the killing, he hated the deaths, and the
nauseating stench of their black blood. He kept going only
because he knew it would all be over soon. He would have her
back again, and then everything, all his pain and fear... would
be worth it.

Right. He turned, his battle senses straining so much it
hurt. Two more down, and...

...and...

Ranma blinked.

The attack had ceased.

The demons were still there; he could feel them lurking off
in the mists. But, to his numb amazement, they were staying
away.

Not letting down his guard, he took a moment to get his
breathing under control, and to wipe the sweat and blood from his
eyes.

And as he did, he noticed something glittering just out of
his line of vision above him. He looked up.

Through thinning mist... he saw stars.

The evening sky still held a touch of blue from the fading
day, but it was dark enough that the Milky Way was making its
presence known, scattering countless tiny droplets of brilliant,
comforting light across the darkness.

He turned slowly, hope surging within his chest and
thickening his throat, burning away the pain and the fear and the
anger that had covered him, like a black, oily film, for so long.

The peak of the mountain rose above the dark mists, towering
over him.

He could see the dark opening of the Ancient One's cave from
where he stood.

He stared, hardly able to believe his eyes.

"Akane," he breathed.

**She isn't here.**

Ranma's heart came to a shuddering stop.

He felt it, then; so suddenly, it was almost as if it came
out of nowhere. It wasn't there, and then it was. The powerful,
smothering evil assaulted his senses...

*No,* he thought desperately. *Please... it's not
possible...*

He looked back down into the mists, his eyes widening, his
blood suddenly throbbing in his ears. A cold sheen of sweat
slicked his face with the blood. And the hope swelling in his
chest evaporated, and seeped from him like so much steam.

The deep, growling voice penetrated his mind once again,
even as he saw a pair of huge, glowing yellow eyes emerge from
the mists. The Shadowcat's body, swathed in black ki, was nearly
indistinguishable in the darkness as it padded towards him with
languorous malevolence.

And at the sight of it, Ranma felt that terrible, feline
part of his soul, the part that longed to steal his mind and
devour his humanity, twitch in sudden gleeful anticipation of
rejoining its master in mindless servitude.

"No," he pleaded.

The Shadowcat was laughing in his head.

The Nekoken surged so violently inside his soul that he
gasped and clutched his chest, as if hoping to contain the beast
within him.

He was trembling. Tears mingled with the sweat and the
blood on his face. "No... Akane..."

**Akane couldn't make it. Such a shame. She never realized
she couldn't have you.**

Ranma watched, listened, unable to move as the Shadowcat
stood before him and bared its razor-sharp teeth in a gruesome
smile.

**You are mine.**

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

End of Part Nineteen