Everything you know is a lie.

Coming soon:
A Beyond Nerima Fan-novel
The Tales of Shampoo, Volume II:
The Phoenix Eye Saga
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Prolouge:  The Storyteller


 It was a sure sign that the night wasn't going to be a smooth one.
 Originally, the gang had intended to do one of their usual barbecues at the girls'
place.  However, California weather being what it is, that idea was dashed by a freak
thunderstorm that suddenly descended on the West Coast.  It had moved in so fast, the
charcoal had barely started its chemical conversion to ash just as the drops began to
descend to Earth.
 They had managed to do a little indoor cooking thanks to quick thinking--and the
culinary talents--on Gil's behalf.  They'd cheerfully resigned themselves to a night of
videos and the Saturn or Playstation (when Libby and Ranko stopped arguing over which
one was better), when Maria said one of the world's most ominous, cruel lines:

 "Look at it this way:  what else could go wrong?"
     
 Minutes later, as Tyler and Libby lit the candles, Mousse produced a portable boom-box,
and Ranko was gagging Maria with as much of her hair ribbon as possible, Shampoo
silently swore that this would be the last time that they would ever let her speak
during such a critical moment.
    

 Tuning in to KPIX, they found out that "...according to spokespeople at Pacific Gas &
Electric and the East Bay Municipal Utility District, the unexpected 'Superstorm' 
overloaded the powergrids at all stations.  PG&E and MUD authorities state that power
will be restored to most of the affected areas within three hours.  As an additional
precaution, both companies have shut down gas lines as well, although water remains
unaffected.  Until then, local and state authorities advise tha--"  Mousse switched off
the radio.  They all knew what the remainder of the broadcast would basically point out,
and no one really wished to hear any more of it.
 "So what do we do now?"  Ronnie, in her usual location of near-molecular-bonded on
Mousse's arm (thus within reach of Shampoo's fists), asked.  "It looks like there's not
going to be much more to do this night."  She rested her head on Mousse's shoulder and
sighed.  Mousse could only turn and shrug one shoulder at a very annoyed Shampoo, who
turned away from him in a huff.
 "Anybody got any ideas?"  Tyler asked.
 "Anyone know how to play go or shoji?  Also have a couple of Magic decks," Ranko
offered.  Nobody, however, cared to play against her--in the time that she'd worked at
The Magic Duck, she'd mastered the card game.  Likewise, no one else knew how to play
the Japanese board games.  "Okay, then how about working out?"  The redhead, already
dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans, began to stretch.
 "Naah, we already get enough practice fighting the world, it seems, since you moved
here," Gil joked.  "Besides, we just finished eating about five minutes ago.  Now that
might not affect your cast-iron stomach, but we normal people need more than two seconds
to digest."  He gently poked her in the stomach.  "By the way, you usually don't wear
sweatshirts.  Are you gaining weight?"
 As Ranko rewarded Gil for his wonderful sense of humor by pounding him through the
floor, Tyler groaned, "Somebody come up with something!  I don't wanna put up with this
for the next three hours!"
 "Um, anybody know any jokes--except you...." Libby said as she pulled a dazed Gil out
of the hole in the floor he'd created.
 Shampoo craned her neck towards Mousse just enough to say, "You own a magic and hobby
shop, worked for a circus for a few years, carry around more stuff than the average
moving van.  Do something, Mr. Magician!"
 "Love, if I was that good of a magician, I'd make her disappear!" he cried, referring
to his unwanted arm attachment.
 "You aren't carrying much today?"  Now that's a surprise, she thought.  Usually he was
just about prepared for anything.
 Seemly reading her thoughts, he continued.  "If I was, I would've pulled out my
portable generator by this time.  Sorry."  He adjusted his glasses, then sidled closer
to her, ignoring Ronnie's protests.
 She leaned in closer, easily within kissing distance.  "So, there's nothing at all you
can come up with at all?"
 "I woke up late today and had to take Abby to the vet, so I didn't get a chance to pack
much.  All I'm carrying right now is--hmmm, let's see," he began to empty his inventory
on the floor, totally misunderstanding her romantic intent. "All I brought was the
radio, my portable office, the car repair kit, a spare change of clothes, portable
Earthquake Kit, extra charcoal for the grill, duck food for Abby--"
 She sighed silently.  He didn't even get her obvious hint.  Why did she even bother
sometimes?
 Still oblivious to her ploy, he continued.  "--autographed baseball from the game last
night, letter from my dad, bill from America On-line that I haven't opened up yet, ATM
slips, and 'The Box'  Nothing else, sweetheart."
 "Oh."  Shampoo became downcast.  Mousse had only mentioned "The Box" sporadically over
the last six years, and in fact only twice since her only blood relative, Lao K'o Lon--
Cologne--had passed away.  Cologne gave the box--a container whose contents were unknown
to both of the Chinese expatriates--into Mousse's care should the day come that Shampoo
wanted to open it.  To this day, she'd never been sure if she wanted to open it.  Ever.
It was too dear to her, the last remnant of her original family, a portable temple in
memory of all that was Clan Lao.  So the box stayed unopened, and in Mousse's care.
 As she looked back up, Mousse leaned over and kissed her with all the love he had for
her.  "No, I wasn't ignoring you," he explained, grinning.  "I may be blind as a bat
without my glasses, but not braindead."
 "I knew that," she smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck.  "But," she cooed, "it
still doesn't help the fact that we're all bored silly."
 "I've got a great idea," Ronnie said, leaning in for her expected kiss.  As she waited
patiently, she continued.  "Let's play 'Spin the Bottle'.  Mousse and I will be one
team.  The rest of us will break int--"
 There was a break all right--the coffee table over Ronnie's head.  It split seamlessly
into dozens of little particles, a confetti of wood shavings burying the unconscious
girl.


 So a silence permeated the living room, and the only ambient sounds that could be heard
were that of the thunderstorm raging on outside and the echo of wood crushing bone.  As
the group of friends sat, looking like they'd really have to think of something oddball
to keep themselves busy, Maria began to jump up and down like a cheerleader experiencing
Divine Inspiration.
 "Great, Another Brilliant Idea From San Francisco's Only Quantum Physics Chef." Tyler
said, chuckling.
 "Okay, Maria, spill it," Ranko said as she undid the multiple knots on her friend's
gag.
 "I've got the perfect idea!" she squealed.  "Let's tell a story!"
 "Y'know, that's actually not a bad idea," Libby mused.  "Sometimes, you're not such a
complete fool."
 "Did somebody say something about 'Fuu'?"  Gil smiled.  Libby responded by backhanding
him into a wall, then staring at Ranko for ever giving that joker new ammo.  Ranko in
turn just responded with one of her kawaii looks that fooled absolutely no one present.
 "Oh, this is so grand!  I'll start!"  Maria giggled, absolutely thrilled to be the
center of attention.  "'Once upon a time, there lived in a forest a poppa bear, a momma
bear, and a baby be--'"
 On went the gag again.


 They all sat silently once more, until Libby had a thought.  "Ranko, you're a writer,
right?"
 "I'm a 'journalist', not a 'writer'," Ranko replied, a hint of an offended tone in her
voice.  "A writer writes screen plays, music or lyrics, or--"
 "Yeah, yeah, whatever."  {Hee, hee, finally got one up on her!}  "But I'm willing to
bet you've worked on a novel of sorts, right?  All 'writers' do."
 To the blonde's glee, the red-haired Japanese girl began to twiddle her thumbs
nervously.  "Well," she began uneasily, "there is, um...one story that I've, er, um, not
exactly written--just an idea in my head, mind you--but I hope to, um, publish it
someday.   When I'm established as...a respected, uh,...journalist.   Here.  That is."
 "What's it about, Ranko?"  Tyler, always interested in his friend and kenpo teacher's
activities, asked.
 "It's uh, um, er, well, that is, it's...."  Libby wiped the grin off her face.
Something was very odd about this; the usually eloquent (when she wanted to be) and
straightforward (again, when so inclined) Ranko was never usually this much a loss for
words.  Except around guys.
 Shampoo detached herself from Mousse to come to Ranko's aid.  Hugging her friend for
comfort, the Chinese girl said, "I think I know which story is on your mind.  You don't
have to tell it, you know."
 Nervous cobalt eyes turned to face violet ones.  "Yes, I do.  For my sake, Shampoo.
This is something that my bro can handle, has handled, but I never could."
 Mousse saw the look in Ranko's eyes.  He came over as well.  "Ranko, we're here for
you.  If you want to tell 'The Story'--" he said it in the same way as he had said "The
Box" just minutes earlier, "--you have us here.  Worst comes to, all you need to do is
think of him.  It's about 8 PM local, so that's um, about Noon there--he and Akane
should be up."
 "Besides, it's better if you do this on your own."  Shampoo preached like a
psychiatrist, adding, "This is probably the best way to get it out into the open.  Call
it a healing method if you will."
 Ranko came back to her normal self long enough to make one of her usual sarcastic
remarks:  "Who died and made you Freud?"  She paused, then added.  "Sorry, Shampoo.
That wasn't called for.  But, no.  I can't tell it."  She began to shy away from
everyone, crawling deep within herself, chewing on her lip.  "You tell it."
 "No.  This is your story.  If someone has to tell it, it has to be you."
 "But you know more about it than I do," the redhead countered, seeming as if she was
looking for some--any--way out.
 "Ranko, I really can't tell this one.  This is your story."  The Chinese woman crossed
her arms, standing firm like a patient older sister.  She tended to play that role a lot
for Ranko, since Kasumi was on the other side of the Pacific.
 "You're not pulling that one over my eyes, Shampoo."  She looked fondly into her best
friend's eyes, and a smile crossed the face of Ranko Saotome.  "This is our story, then.
I wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for you."
 "You wouldn't have become my best friend if it wasn't for this.  And I might still be
living in Japan as the violent, insensitive, cruel, obsessive child chasing after
someone whose love I could never fully have...instead of being a perfectly contented,
mature woman living far away from Asia with the one I love."  She cast a longing glance
at Mousse, then chided herself for doing a Ronnie imitation.  She stopped her glance
immediately, then continued.  "Ranma and Akane might not be alive either if it weren't
for you.  Nabiki and Tate wouldn't probably be married at all if it weren't for y--"
 Ranko waved her hands, a thin smile scrawled on her lips again.  "And a billion other
things here and there.  I  get the point."  She stopped.  "Tell ya what:  I'll tell the
story if you agree to be the editor and fact-checker."
 "Done."
 "Alrighty then."  With that little drama completed, Ranko confidently slid into her
storytelling mode.  "First of all, I want you to understand that what I'm about to tell
you is an absolute secret for the time being.  If and when I do decide to publish it,
all the names and places will be changed to protect the innocent--really.  I realize
that usually I tend to joke and whatnot about things like this, but right now I'm not
kidding.  A lot of Tendo and Saotome family secrets are going to be revealed tonight,
stuff that could be damaging.  Also, a lot of people were hurt by these events I'm about
to tell you, people who I count as my loved ones.  I trust you all, so that's why I'm
telling you this tale, uncensored."
 The room filled with silence again, only now it was all trained on her, the candles
creating a symbolic bonfire for the group assembled for the campfire tale that the
Japanese girl was about to spin.
 "Oh--I nearly forgot something."  She stood up and turned towards the stairs.  "Have to
get something.  I'll be right back."  She thought for a second, and all watched as
Shampoo's and Ranko's halves of the Phoenix Eyes became two glowing fireflies on leather
straps, a chemlight she could use to move around.  Her face bathed in soft, angelic blue
light, she sprinted up the stairs and into her room.


 When she returned five minutes later, she was carrying a small book with her.  She set
it in front of the group, the blue and white lights of the candles and the Phoenix Eyes
giving enough light for all to see clearly.  It was an old brown book with Japanese on
the cover.  The vinyl covering was coming off one corner, and the book definitely had
that 70's look to it.
 Ranko explained.  "It's my scrap book.  My mom gave it to me on my 21st birthday; she
said she wanted her little girl to remember her childhood and teen years with some kind
of fondness.  That as bad as it was, and as lacking in femininity that it was--more so
than the three youngest Tendo daughters--there was still some good times.  That besides
the fact that up until we went on that ten year training trip, the only females I knew
were my Mom and Ranma's best friend, Ukyo Kuonji; that my only companions for ten years
were Pop and Ranma; occasionally my brother's other best friend Ryoga Hibiki--"
 "Question," Ronnie said, interrupting the redhead as she poked her head out of the
wooden debris, "Why aren't you married to Ryoga then?  Most everybody seems to be
married to everybody else, or had chased somebody else at one time or another, and an
equation between you and Ryoga was left out of the detailed explanation I got from
Shampoo a few weeks back.  You'd think that even an arranged marriage would've been
done, like Ranma and Akane said they were."
 It was the Chinese girl who answered the question.  "To give ya the Reader's Digest
version, Ryoga and Ukyo tend to think of Ranko in the same way I do--the little sister
we never had.  For the detailed explanation, well, she'll have to explain."  She
gestured like a maitre d'.  "Aprez vous, mademoiselle."
 "Thanks.  Anyway...where was I?  Oh yeah...the Ryoga bit; despite the fact that I was
targeted for death for about two months by Shampoo--"
 "'Targeted for death?' As in D-E-A-T-H?"  Libby gave the pair the look she usually
reserved for KTech SF's Legal problems.  The rest stared at Ranko as if it was time to
fit her for a straitjacket.
 "It was a misunderstanding.  It got cleared up,"  Mousse quickly replied.
 "Oh."  She knew her roommates--and Mousse--tended to overreact to things at times and
got REALLY POSTAL when pissed, but to actively hunt each other down?!?
 "Look, guys--can I finish?"  She crossed her arms and stared them all down.  As the
peasant revolt died down, Ranko picked up once more.  "Save your questions for the end
--I guarantee that you'll have lots of them.  Let's see...."  She quickly counted all
the major events on her fingers, the tip of her tongue sticking out as she did her
I'm-concentrating-so-leave-me-alone face.  She finally decided to skip it all.  "You get
the idea.  But even through the years that my father, Ranma, Ryoga, Shampoo, and Mousse
suffered through the curse; the years that I never saw mother; and all that, my Mom
wanted me to realize that my childhood wasn't too bad."  She opened the scrap book to
about the fifth page or so, then pulled out a large photo.  "There's just one problem
with that."  She passed the photo around to all.

    
 On first inspection, the photo was just your simple 8" x 10" blowup, yellowing and dog-
eared, obviously about as old as the book.  It showed a simple scene.  A couple, in
their late twenties, very much in love, stood together.  Two boys stood in front of
them, a girl in between.  A smaller girl was perched on the shoulders of the man.
 Closer inspection revealed that the man was balding, wore eyeglasses, and his cream-
colored gi contained a frame of sizable girth and muscle.  The woman looked extremely
gentle, dressed in a peach and white kimono; she had short brown hair and motherly brown
eyes.  The first little girl wore a purple and gray kimono; she had long black hair and
brown eyes.  One of the little boys wore a soft green gi; he had brown eyes and his 
black hair was bound by a yellow bandanna.  The other little boy also had short black
hair, but his eyes were like the blue skies in the background; his gi was white.  The
little girl on the shoulders of the man was the most odd, having long red hair in a
Japanese ponytail, and the deepest blue eyes you ever saw--she also wore a white gi.
The last two children bore a resemblance to the adults; it was clear that it was a young
Genma and Nodoka with Ranma and Ranko.  That meant that the other boy had to be Ryoga;
the girl, Ukyo.
 On the back in fading blue ink, there was a short inscription in Japanese that none
present other than Shampoo, Mousse, and Ranko could've read, but the date was clear
enough:  19.4.1977.


 Ranko explained.  "That picture was taken by Uc-chan's mother the day before me, Ranma,
Ryoga, an' Pop left home on our ten-year training mission." Ranko then quickly detailed
her life's facts:  that since Ryoga's parents were constantly wandering, he lived with
the Saotomes half the time; that Nodoka had arranged a marriage between Ukyo and Ranma
even as Genma and Soun worked out their agreement; that Genma had a dream that his
children would grow up to become the greatest kenpo artists in history, and thus had to
fully train them--as well as the ever- (semi) inseparable Ryoga--to that end; that they
wandered all over Japan for the next ten years working on so many different styles that
traditional kenpo karate was never taught to Genma's children and Ryoga; that instead,
they had learned the highly unorthodox Anything-Goes-Martial-Arts (what was referred to
in English as "Freestyle") method--a Saotome specialty; and so forth and so on.  Ranko
spoke for about ten minutes, giving a few more details about her younger years, and
ending it at about her seventeenth birthday, about two weeks before Shampoo's eighteenth.
 "Okay, so you had a bizarre childhood; nothing new that Ranma hadn't already told us
when he was here a few weeks ago," Tyler remarked.  "We still wuv ya anyway."
 Ranko blushed slightly at that, then continued.  "But this picture, no matter how real
it seems, isn't.  Pop left Mom when Ranma was two, not six. Ranma never met Ukyo until
he was six, and they met in Miyazaki, not Osaka; Pop made the engagement arrangements,
despite his promise to Uncle Tendo.  Ranma met Ryoga when they were thirteen and
attending a school together in Eta Jima, not Osaka.  In short, all this, everything up
to my seventeenth birthday--or my first, or my third, depending how you look at it--is a
straight out lie.  Not that my family ever lied to me--okay, well not Ranma or Mom, at
any rate--but it's all a magical fabrication.  None of my past is real.
 "I realize that this sounds odd, even for me.  Even despite all the cards I get that
say 'From your big bro Ryoga' or the ones from Uc-chan that call me 'li'l sis'.  Or the
documents in Osaka that record my birth on June 23 1972, or the ones authorizing
guardianship of Ryoga Hibiki to Genma and Nodoka Saotome three years later.  Or all the
memories that everyone has of me prior to 1989.  Even the adoption of Natsumi and Kurumi
Tendo around the same time as Ryoga's fostership and the memories of Shampoo's loss to
me at the Joketsuzoku tourney--the one that started off the two-month blood hunt--are
false.
 "I didn't know that when I did what I did, that it would change history itself.  All I
wanted was a life, a chance to fit in.  Ranma, Pop, Ukyo, Ryoga, and Akane accepted me--
that should've been enough.  But it wasn't, Pop said, it wasn't fair that I never had a
full life.  So I did something that set off a far-reaching and dangerous set of events.  All I can say is, I'm sorry, even though few blame me and Ranma said I did what was right, even though it set off a chain of events that nearly caused me to lose my ties with Ryoga and Uc-chan.  They know the truth now, and still love me all the same, but it was truly touch and go for a while."  The redhead sighed the breath of a peson making the hardest, most heartfelt confession in the world.  Shampoo's heart went out for her friend, but she knew that this had to be done.
 After a few more seconds, Ranko continued her revelation.  "In light of what happened
during the last week of June, you'll want to hear this tale.  This tale is the story of
the Heart of the Demon, or what we thought was the Phoenix Eye."  Ranko's and Shampoo's
talismans flared briefly as she said it, "This is the culmination of Ranma and Akane's
love, the origin of Nabiki and Tate's, of the idea of Shampoo's and Mousse's life here,
and a few other stories--but most important to me, the story of my birth."
 Ronnie couldn't help herself.  "Okay, I c'n understand the part about your brother and
Akane, maybe 'bout Nabiki and Tate, and certainly the part about Shampoo bringing my man
here."  She then stuck her tongue at Shampoo.  Shampoo in turn fought the urge to wrap
that tongue around the length of Ronnie's spine--after she ripped it out.  Pleased at
her minor victory, she continued.  "But Ranko, I fail to see where your birth fits in.
Is it where you found out that you're the reincarnation of Lao Jiukiu Tsesao?"
 A sort of daughterly love gleamed in Ranko's eyes at the sound of that name.  "No, I'm
not.  What I am talking about, however, is my *birth."*  Once again, Ranko's comments
drew odd stares and beads of confusion from all save Shampoo and Mousse.  Getting just
a bit frustrated at having her story interrupted multiple times, blew her bangs out of
her eyes and continued, turning to Shampoo.  "If you're ready, Ms. Fact Checker."
 She nodded her head in her best imitation of a village elder, saying, "Lead on,
grasshopper.  The Path of Enlightenment awaits."
 Gil laughed riotously.  "Man, what a ham you are!  I'm sure Confucius never sounded
like that!  HE probably sounded more Chinese!" 
 Shampoo mock-pouted.  "Is it my fault that K'ung Fu Tzu never had a voice coach like I
got?"
 "He probably did a better job than you did," Libby added, unable to resist a jab.
 "All right, kiddies, let's be nice," Mousse added.
 Maria, who finally got the gag off on her own, said "Kitties?  Where is Mige, anyway?"
 "'Kiddies', Maria, not "Kitties'," Tyler groaned, slapping his forehead.
 "Oh.  Oopsie."
 "Same old Maria...."
 "All circles of friendship must have one Mihoshi."
 "Okay 'Shampfucius', you can cut with the dispensing of wisdom."
 "What wisdom?  China Girl here's used it all up years ago!"
 "Shampfucius say 'Girl From Missouri complete waste of Genetic Material and should be
donated for Betterment of Community to Local Science Lab.'"
 "Shamps!  Ronnie!  Puh-lease!  Can you two quit the catfight for once?"
 "Tyler, catfighting is in Shampoo's nature."
 "Oh, so is that why she's always in heat, showing her ass to Mousse and trying to take
him from me?"
 "Who said I was yours, Ronnie?"
 "Shampfucius say, 'Girl From Missouri who open stupid mouth again and not get Slimy
Paws off Man Already Spoken For will meet with Gruesome End in Next Two Seconds.'"
 "Oh, go shove a Fortune Cookie up your a--"    
 "WOULD EVERYBODY SHUT UP LONG ENOUGH FOR ME TO GET MY STORY TOLD?!?!?!??!??!?"  Ranko
screamed.  As everybody piped down as quiet as churchmice, she barked, "If you guys are
done, now I can get started.  The story starts about three weeks before Shampoo's 18th
birthday, an--"
 "Um, Ranko, 18th?"  Tyler risked her wrath and interrupted once more.  "Don't, um, you
mean, like, her *first?*  I mean, she's 26, you're 25, so...." He shrugged his
shoulders.
 "Trust me.  18th."  She smiled sweetly at her friend.  "Anyway, It was about a few
weeks or so before her 18th birthday, and..."
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Eighteen fighters are about to face the most dangerous force the world has ever known,
and some may die...
...and one may be born.

A U G U S T  1 9 9 7
ashita@rocketmail.com
calicatcafe@geocities.com