------------------------------
When There is Nothing Else

by:  WindDance
------------------------------


     Ryoga arrived.
     He collapsed to the ground as much from frustration 
as exhaustion.  The lot was empty.
     How could he?  He had said he would be here.  He had 
accepted the challenge.  Where was he?  Could he have run 
out?  Ryoga had thought more of his honor.

-----

     Ryoga found out what had happened at school the next
week.
     "What do you mean he's gone!"
     "Yeah, to China no less.  It's all kinda cool sudden
but I think it's cool.  I mean, China."
     "What do you mean he's gone!"
     "He said it was some kinda training trip or something."
     "What do you mean he's gone!"
     "Hello?  Ryoga?  Gone.  Gone as in left, not coming
back, that kind of thing."
     "So he's gone then..."

-----

     It had been a week.  He'd aquired a backpack.  When
his school uniform had nearly disintegrated around him from
the unaccustomed wear he had found strudier, more practical
clothing.
     He ate when food was available but did not dawdle
anywhere for long.  Ryoga knew he could get where he was
going; it would just take a while, and he was at least a
week and half behind already.
     It didn't really matter how long it took, but the
sooner he cought up the better.  After all, what else did he
have to do?
     Now how was he going to get to China?

-----

     China was beautiful.  So different from Japan.  The
countryside was fantastic.  There was so much of it though.  
How was he supposed to find him here?  He couldn't ask for
help; no one spoke Japanese.
     At least when he had woken up on that ship the sailors
had been able to speak to him.  That had helped a lot.
     It was supposed to be a training trip.  Ryoga decided
to investigate well known training grounds.

-----

     What was with those women?  He walks into their village
and suddenly they're all trying to kill him.
     He had run, hard and long.  Two days of run, nap, run
before he had gotten away.  Even with all the travelling he
had done recently, it had still drained all his reserves.
He had slept for most of a day.
     He had gotten a lead there though.  It was time to move
on.

-----

     Shouts.  A bump.  Falling.  Water.  Confusion.

-----

     Ryoga had aquired an umbrella.  It was read and it was
heavy.  It kept the rain off though.  That was important
now.
     The rain had become his enemy.  What cruel betrayal by
such a purveyor of life.

-----

     Ryoga was thankful for these kind people.  He had
stumbled into their home exhausted and near starvation.
They had fed him.  They had let him sleep on a real bed.
     Now they were showing him photographs of someone Ryoga
assumed was their daughter.  They seemed to have been taken
in Japan.
     Wait.  There, in the corner of that one.  It was him.
There could be no doubt.  There was a sign on the wall in
the background of the picture.  A highschool sign.
     So he was back in Japan.

-----

     Ryoga had been walking along the dockside wondering how
to get back to Japan without any money.  Someone's drink had
come spinning through the air from nowhere.  He had jumped
to the side; he had jumped into the ocean.
     Someone had fished him out.  He was thrown into a pen
full of pigs.  It was one of the most unpleasant experiences
of his life.  He had his passage to Japan though.

-----

     Week of travel though harsh, punishing terrain.
Nothing he couldn't handle now, something he had gained
from this chase.
     He was in a city now.  It was big.  Maybe this was the
place.  Maybe.  He had to ask.  Who?  Him.
     He barely heard the response when something out of the
corner of his eye caught his attention.
     Ryoga smiled.  He had found him.

-----

     end


Author's notes:

     I wrote this waiting for a rather late train.  I was
sitting there, minding my own business, when suddenly I had
an idea.  Everyone is always writing about Ryoga being lost.
Why not write about Ryoga being found?  (Well, sort of
found, in a sense, kind of.)
     Three and a half hand written pages was the first draft
of this.  I liked it.  I didn't feel like fleshing it out
into something of appreciable size.  It was fine the way it
was.  So here it is.
     C&C appreciated.  This is, after all, my first fic on
the FFML.  Do your worst.  Give me faith that the FFML can
do what it was meant to do.

-WindDance

"Well, what do you think?"
"Do you want me to answer that with the truth or a lie?"