C&C welcome, but remember, I spell like an Aussie!

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Chapter Four: Into the Abyss

Disclaimer:  I don't own and didn't create Ranma � or any of these characters.

***************

Ranma opened his eyes slowly, shielding them against the glare of the
blazing campfire.  He sat up and looked around.  It was still early in
the morning, not long after dawn he guessed.  The other bedroll was
empty and he couldn't see Tarou anywhere, but the Chinese boy had
obviously been awake for long enough to have rekindled the fire before
he'd left.

Ranma strolled away from the campsite and stretched, enjoying the chill
of the morning air against his skin after the warmth of the fire.  He
had wanted to continue on after Ryouga as early as possible and had
initially been annoyed that Pantyhose Tarou had gone missing, but after
spending the last five days alone with him, he was relieved to have some
time to himself.

Ranma continued walking until he was out of sight of the campsite,
picking his way carefully through the long grass so that the early
morning dew would not trigger his piglet curse.  He might not have liked
turning into a girl, but he had been almost as comfortable in that body
as he was in his own and at least he could change himself back and
defend himself.  He had allowed himself to become complacent about his
curse, as he had proven when he had forgotten to pack an umbrella for
himself.  Thankfully, the last couple of days had been clear, but he
didn't want to think about what would happen if the rain started again;
somehow he doubted that Tarou could be persuaded to give up his cloak.

He arrived at a small clearing.  The sunlight streaming through the
break in the trees had dried the grass already, so he wouldn't have to
worry about his curse while he trained.

He started with a basic kata, progressing to more difficult and
intricate ones as he limbered up, thinking all the while about the
upcoming fight with Ryouga.  He knew he should be concentrating on how
to get the lost boy back without hurting him, but he couldn't deny that
part of him wanted the fight.  Partly because he hadn't had many chances
to fight a strong opponent as of late - and there were few things he
enjoyed more than a really challenging fight - but most of all, he
wanted to prove to himself that he could do it, because Tarou could not.


He had noted the Chinese boy's interest in the Moko Takabisha and Shishi
Hokodan the previous day.  Somehow he had managed to piece together the
underlying principle of the moves quickly enough, although Ranma doubted
that he had enough of an understanding to actually duplicate the
techniques yet.  Not that he couldn't have mastered the moves with that
amount of information, Ranma thought to himself with a smirk.  He had
duplicated the Shishi Hokodan with less, and it wasn't even a technique
that was suited to him.

He finished the kata he had been doing, and moved back to the centre of
the clearing, idly wishing he had a training dummy that he could
practice with.  It was time to find out whether there was a perfect form
of the Moko Takabisha.  He clenched his fists tightly and focused.

"Moko Takabisha!!" he yelled, straining to push his focused ki upwards
in the same manner that he had seen Ryouga do many times.  A yellow glow
emanated upwards and then settled, but it was nothing like the massive
pillar of light that Ryouga could generate.  He refocused and tried
again.  The same thing happened.

Repeatedly he refocused his confidence and ki, and every time the result
was nothing more than that faint yellow glow.  With each failure, the
glow became fainter, and eventually he could not even generate that.
His hands fell to his sides despondently.  That was the problem with a
technique that relied on confidence; if it failed, the resultant loss in
confidence would make it weaker again.  He couldn't tell if the Perfect
Moko Takabisha was failing because there was no such move, or because he
simply wasn't as confident as Ryouga was depressed.  He suspected it was
the former.  His light confident ki wouldn't gather together and crash
back to earth in the same way as Ryouga's heavy depressive ki.  The old
ghoul could have told him, if only he'd thought to ask her.

Ranma focused his feelings of failure, crossing his wrists tightly
across his chest.

"Shishi Hokodan!" he shouted, holding out his arms with the palms cupped
outwards.  A large red ball of light and ki blasted forward from his
hands and flew forwards for several feet before dissipating.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, pumping a fist in the air and grinning.  Damn, he
needed to stop doing that!  That feeling of elation he always had when
he successfully completed a Shishi Hokodan would damage his chances of
successfully pulling off another one.  In any case, perhaps he should
practice the standard form first, to see if had any better chance with
it than last time.

He crossed his wrists again and tried to think of the most depressing
thoughts he could.  Being a pig?  No, not good enough.  Being beaten...
losing his strength... losing Akane to somebody stronger than him...
Akane... a doll's eyes closing, never to open again... he had failed
her...

"SHISHI HOKODAN!!!"

The reddish sphere was huge compared to his previous efforts with the
Shishi Hokodan, but was still far smaller than the majority of Ryouga's.
There was no way he was going to get depressed enough to be able to
complete a Perfect Shishi Hokodan.

Ranma flopped to the ground dejectedly.  His best efforts and he
couldn't produce a perfect form of either attack.  He could do multiple
variations on the Hiryuu Shoten Ha, had come up with combat uses for the
Kachuu Tenshin Amaguriken training, could use people's strengths against
them and could improvise a suitable attack for about any opening he was
given, but he couldn't create a perfect form of a lousy emotion-based ki
attack.  It was infuriating.

He heard a chuckle from behind him.  He turned around to see Tarou,
casually leaning up against a tree with a smirk on his face.

"Great." Ranma muttered, climbing to his feet.  "How long have you been
there?"

"Long enough.  They were the famous Shishi Hokodan and Moko Takabisha,
were they?" Tarou said dryly.

"You think you can do better?" Ranma scoffed, privately hoping that the
other boy couldn't.  He couldn't face the thought of being shown up
after his failed practice session.

Tarou shrugged indifferently.

"Where did you disappear off to, anyway?"

"Hunting."

Ranma's mouth watered at the prospect of fresh meat instead of just
plain rice for breakfast.  "Catch anything?"

"A piglet."  Tarou chuckled.  "A bit larger than your cursed form.  It's
cooking now."  He turned and started to walk away.

Ranma idly watched the retreating boy's back for several moments.
"Wanna spar?" he asked.

Tarou turned around, eyeing him doubtfully.  "Spar?"

"You know... pretend fighting." Ranma explained slowly.  "As in no
splashing each other with water, no trying to kill each other."

"I know what it means," Tarou said impatiently.  "I was just...
surprised.  Okay."

As Tarou approached, Ranma could see the dark circles under his eyes.
"You look like you had a rough night.  Bad dreams again, huh?"

"None of your business," Tarou muttered grimly, lowering into his
standard combat stance.

"Fine.  Be that way." Ranma grumbled.

Ranma raised his own fists and stood observing his opponent for several
moments.  He had made the offer to spar on the spur of the moment.  His
father had appeared to lose interest in their regular sparring sessions
after Ranma had proven to be stronger than him, and in any case, Ranma
had not been in any hurry to risk being caught in another 'Cradle from
Hell'.  The only other possible alternative was Akane.  No doubt she
would have jumped at the chance, but her abilities were so far beneath
him to not be worth his while.  Tarou, on the other hand, had proven to
be very close to him in skill and should be a good challenge,
particularly now that he no longer had his far more dangerous cursed
form to fall back on if things went nasty.

Ranma rushed forward and aimed a series of jabs at Tarou, testing his
reaction.  As expected, the Chinese boy wove around them effortlessly,
his previously dark expression having given way to one of calm self-
confidence.  Ranma grinned, and attacked again more seriously with a
series of rapid kicks and punches.  Tarou dodged most of the blows and
caught the rest on his right bracer, moving backwards at an incredible
pace.  Ranma frowned, puzzled.  It was obvious that he was being led
somewhere, but why?  He risked a quick glance over Tarou's shoulder, to
see if he could see anything unusual behind him.  The moment his eyes
had left his opponent's, a fist impacted his shoulder and then his side.
He looked back in time to see Tarou dropping, as if to sweep his legs
out from under him.  Ranma jumped clear of the outstretched foot,
tagging the other boy with a kick to the back of his head as he landed.
He stepped back a few paces, then attacked again.

Ranma soon found that he was enjoying himself.  Tarou was maddeningly
difficult to hit, darting around like a dragonfly all the while wearing
that irritating, self-satisfied smirk on his face, but once Ranma had
begun to concentrate more on his opponent's tactics rather than his
technique, he had managed to get a couple of good hits in.  He had
received a few as well; the one near his left kidney still ached,
although he knew that Tarou had not put his full power behind his elbow
when he'd done it.  Still, it was a lot more satisfying than sparring
with his father.

The two martial artists flitted back and forth across the clearing,
dodging and exchanging blows, gradually increasing the speed and power
of their blows in an attempt to gain the upper hand. Eventually, Tarou
dropped to a standstill.

"What?  You done already?" Ranma scoffed.

"Breakfast will be ready," Tarou said.  "You want to eat, don't you?"
He turned and began to walk back towards the campsite.  "I hope that
wasn't the butt-kicking I was promised," he tossed over his shoulder,
smirking.

"Why you little-" Ranma growled, as he hurried to catch up with the
other boy.  His mouth was already starting to salivate.  "I was still
holding back, you know," he added smugly.

"So was I," Tarou tossed over his shoulder.  "Wasn't that the point?"

Ranma gave a disbelieving snort and, having caught up with the other
boy, settled down at a walking pace beside him.  Naturally, he'd have
beaten the wimp, had he been trying.  He might be skilled and fast - and
downright sneaky - but nobody beat Ranma Saotome.

*****************

Ranma stood on the lip the crater, surveying it grimly.  The smell of
freshly turned soil still hung in the air, thirty six hours after the
huge ball of ki had punched the hole in the earth.  It measured
approximately thirty feet across which, while certainly not the biggest
he'd seen, still ranked quite high on the Ryouga Depresso-meter.

There was no sign of Ryouga himself, but he had left tracks scattered
everywhere.  Tarou was off poking around in the dirt trying to locate
the latest ones, but if the frequent bouts of what sounded like cursing
in Chinese were any indication, he wasn't having much luck.  The tracks
weren't hard to make out, but there were so many of them, criss-
crossing, heading in random directions and then circling back onto
themselves.  Since Ranma's own experience with tracking was practically
non-existent, he'd been happy to leave the task of deciphering them to
Tarou.  To his surprise, he'd even managed to mostly ignore the way that
the Chinese boy had preened, revelling in finding yet another thing that
he was better than Ranma at.  Ranma didn't care about tracking, and,
consequently, didn't care that he might not be the best at it.  But, if
there had been a sport called Martial Arts Ryouga Tracking, there was no
way Tarou would have been better at it than him.

Surrounding the crater, the forest was dark and dense, preventing Ranma
from getting a good look at the nearby countryside.  He jumped up into a
nearby tall tree and clambered up high into its branches.  The ridge
they were on continued northwards for about half a day's journey, ending
in a tall rocky outcrop.  To the northwest lay a village, about two
hours walk away.  He hopped back out of the tree, landing lightly beside
Tarou.

"I'm guessin' you didn't find anything," Ranma said.

"Of course I did."  Tarou flicked his bangs away from his eyes with a
hand, his lips curled into a self-confident little smirk.  "He left
heading west... eventually.  Some time yesterday."

"There's a village over there," Ranma said, pointing.  "We'll be there
by lunchtime if we leave now.  I wanna check in with Nabiki.  You got
any problems with that?"

Tarou shrugged.  "Someone at the village might have seen something last
night anyway.  And if they haven't, the tracks will still be here."  He
hoisted his backpack onto his shoulders.  "Do you have any money?  Food
supplies are running low."

"A little.  Should have enough, I guess."  Ranma pulled on his backpack.
"What would you have done?" he asked.  "If I hadn't had any money, I
mean."

"What would I have done?" Tarou snorted.  "It was your idea to come
along, remember?  I can take care of myself."

Ranma gave a snort and headed off in the direction of the village, Tarou
following close behind him.

************

The village was only tiny, consisting of only one convenience store and
a handful of houses.  Ranma padded his way up the main street, Tarou
following, making his way to the noisy throng of people and cars he
could see at the far end.

He heard footsteps approaching rapidly and side-stepped smartly, just
managing to avoid two children who came barrelling out of a side street.
They circled around, giggling and shrieking, the one being chased
evidently trying to hide behind Ranma and Tarou.  It was then that Ranma
noticed what the child doing the chasing had in his hands.

"Hey, watch ou-"

He heard a growl from behind him, and turned around to see a damp,
female Pantyhose Tarou, levelling a vicious glare at the child.  The
little boy hid the water pistol behind his back and grinned.

"Oops," he giggled, bowing.  "Sorry, lady."

Both children then set off again at a sprint, one chasing the other.
Deprived of his target, Tarou then turned his scowl upon Ranma, who
grinned back at him.

"Spring of Drowned Girl, my butt." Ranma laughed.  "Spring of Drowned
Water Magnet, more like!  Things like that used to happen to me all the
time."

Tarou continued to glare at him, unimpressed.

"C'mon, then.  The sooner we finish this, the sooner you can get some
hot water."

"You think I'm going to let anybody see me like this?"

"Nobody's gonna know you here," Ranma said, rolling his eyes.  He
grinned, adding, "Besides, I told you before... you make a cute girl.
Comes in handy sometimes.  Now, c'mon!"

Ranma grabbed the growling Tarou by the shoulder and resumed walking
towards the cluster of people.  Or at least, that's what he had intended
to do.  The Chinese boy had planted his feet to the ground like a
stubborn child.

"You think you can make me?" he smirked.

"Fine.  Stay here, then."  Ranma released the other boy's shoulder and
turned to walk off.  "Coward," he muttered, loud enough that the other
boy couldn't help but hear.

"What did you say, fem-boy?"  The smirk had twisted into a sneer.

"You heard me."  As Ranma turned to walk off again, he added over his
shoulder, "I just think it's funny that someone who wears pantyhose
around their waist is scared to be seen in public as a girl."

If Tarou gave any response, Ranma didn't hear it.  He wasn't surprised,
though, when he heard the Chinese boy's footsteps start up behind him.
He listened for long enough to confirm that Tarou was following him, and
then turned his attention back to the crowd in front of him.

As he neared them, he could make out at least one camera crew and some
reporters, surrounded by onlookers.  He managed to make out the word
'monster' from the general hubbub, repeated several times with
apprehension.  His heart began to pound in his chest with a combination
of excitement and dread.  Had they seen Ryouga... or was it worse?  He
grabbed the nearest person by the arm and hauled them aside.

"What's that about a monster?  Have you seen him?" he asked urgently.

The man shook his head and pointed over into the crowd.  Ranma could
make out several people moving towards him.  One of them, a young man in
his early twenties, stepped forward.

"You were asking about the monster?" the man asked.  "This one?"  The
man held up a glossy colour image.  The quality was too poor for it to
be a photo, but Ranma guessed it might have come from one of those
newfangled digital cameras.  It was dark and grainy, but in the middle
of the image, he could clearly make out a large hunched shape with a
bovine head, wings and tentacles.

"Ryouga," he muttered under his breath.  Aloud he added, "You took this?
When?  Where?"

"Last night.  It broke into Yoshi's vegetable garden.  Decimated the
lot."

"Yoshi?"

"My neighbour.  He's away, so I've been keeping an eye on the place.
Lucky, huh?"

"Yeah, lucky," Ranma said with total sincerity.  "Did you see where he
went?"

"Well, he went that way," the man said, pointing, "but there were some
weird lights over the other way later on."  He turned around and pointed
in a different direction; towards the cluster of rocks Ranma had see
that morning from the tree.

"Lights?" he asked, trying to keep the excitement from his voice.

"Yeah, lights." the man repeated.  He pulled out a second image.  It was
much darker than the first, nearly black, except for a vertical column
of reddish light reaching up into the sky.  "And there was another one
this morning, just before dawn.  Are you monster hunters?"

"Somethin' like that," Ranma grinned.  "We've been tracking him for
almost a week."

Ranma excused himself and peered around, trying to locate Tarou.  He
found him a small distance from the crowd, leaning against a wall
wearing a carefully cultivated look of disdain on his face.

"We've got 'im,." Ranma exclaimed, pumping a fist in the air.  "He was
over by those rocks this morning."

"Good.  Let's go."

"Wait.  Supplies first, remember?  I'm gonna go call home.  You wanna go
shopping now or wait for me?"

"I can manage by myself."

Ranma dug his wallet out of his backpack and handed a wad of cash to
Tarou, and then headed off towards the public phone further up the
street.

The conversation was short.  Nabiki hadn't come up with anything new,
but no doubt she would still expect payment.  He told her about the
Shishi Hokodan, in case there were more reports of lights in the sky.
He had then spent the rest of the time talking to Akane; their
conversation was stilted and awkward, and he still couldn't admit how
much he missed her, but he did feel better for hearing her voice.

Ranma hung the phone up with a click.  He didn't need to turn around to
know that Tarou had already returned, and was pacing back and forth
behind him like a caged tiger.

"You're back," he said.  "Cheerful as ever, I see."

Tarou handed over the change stiffly, and then began to stuff the
groceries into his backpack, muttering something unpleasant sounding
under his breath.

"What happened?"

Tarou clenched his fists, his face flushed with anger.  "The
shopkeeper... that pervert!  He kept staring at me... at my chest."

"Used to happen to me all the time!"  Ranma burst out laughing.  "You
should've batted your eyelashes or somethin'.  He might've have given
you a discount!"

Tarou growled and whacked the other boy over the head.

"Hey, it worked for me!" Ranma said, grinning.  "My body must've been
sexier."

"I can see why you'd want your curse back," the Chinese boy sneered.

"It's not like I enjoyed havin' guys stare at me and grab at me and
askin' me out on dates and stuff!  But if some guys are stupid enough
then why shouldn't I take advantage of 'em?  It's no different from you
using the strength from your cursed body or your wings to fly."

Tarou shot him a look of disgust.  "It isn't?"

"No, it isn't!" Ranma said emphatically, although he was no longer sure
of who he was trying to convince.

Tarou looked pointedly over Ranma's shoulder, indicating he'd seen
someone.  Ranma turned to see three people approaching rapidly - a
pretty young woman in a business suit, a cameraman and another man
holding a large microphone on a boom.  The rest of the crowd was
following closely behind.

"Good afternoon.  I'm Kyoko Suzuki.  I'm a reporter for the Channel 12
News.  Are you the two martial artists that were asking about the
monster over in Kiruma two days ago?"

"I dunno the name of the place but I guess that's us," Ranma replied
warily.

"Do you mind if I ask you some questions?"

"Sure," he shrugged.  He stepped back so he was next to Tarou.  The
other boy appeared calm and unruffled, if you didn't notice the way his
eyes kept flicking back to the camera and microphone, that is.

"What are your names?"

"Ranma Saotome of the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts," Ranma
announced proudly.  He didn't need to look at Tarou to know that any
pretence of calm had gone; he could feel the tension radiating from him.


"And you, miss?" Kyoko asked.

"None of your damn business," came the muttered reply.

"Oh!" Kyoko exclaimed, shocked.

A broad grin spread across Ranma's face.  He knew he shouldn't do what
he was about to do, but he couldn't help it; that huge sore spot in the
other boy's psyche was just so tempting.  "Don't Oh, she's just shy.
Her name is Pan-"

An arm blurred up and locked itself around his throat, cutting off his
air supply.  Ranma's first impulse was to fight back - he could break
out of the choke hold easily enough - but did he really want to be
caught on camera beating up what appeared to be a pretty girl?  There'd
be the hassle of trying to explain that Tarou wasn't really a girl, and
then he'd have the whole Jusenkyou thing to explain, and... no, thanks.
And he was at least partly to blame for his current predicament.  He
swivelled around and locked eyes with Tarou, smiling, trying to indicate
that it was all a joke.  Tarou's piercing glare made it obvious that
Ranma wasn't about to get out of this that easily, so he tried again.

"-ko," Ranma managed to spit out.  The arm around his neck loosened
slightly.  "My cousin Panko," he elaborated, remembering how Akane had
introduced him when his mother had first come to visit.  The arm shifted
away from him completely.  "Distant cousin.  Barely related, in fact,"
he added, something like a smile beginning to return to his face.  He
glanced at the camera.  "Is that thing on?"

"Yes.  We can start again if you like?"

"Prob'ly a good idea."

Kyoko turned to the camera and addressed it.  "And now we will meet the
two brave martial artists who have elected to defeat this monster, Ranma
Saotome of the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts, and his cousin
Panko."  She turned back to Ranma.  "So, Ranma, what made you decide to
go after this terrible beast?"

"Um... because fighting monsters is a sacred part of a martial artists
duty," Ranma exclaimed proudly.

"That sounds very dangerous," Kyoko purred.

"Yes, very dangerous.  Of course, it's nothin' we can't handle though."
he grinned.

"They say that the beast's name is Ryouga.  Is that true?"

Ranma's face fell.

"You talk too much, fem-boy," Tarou muttered quietly.  "Stop posing so
we can get out of here."

"Actually, we need to get going," Ranma said to Kyoko.  "Can't let the
monster get away, can we?"

"And do you have anything you want to add, Panko?" Kyoko asked, turning
to Tarou.

Tarou glowered at her and then the camera, and then turned on his heel
and marched off, Ranma following close behind.

When they were a safe distance from the crowd, the Chinese boy spun
around to face him.  "Why?" he snarled.  "Why did you do it?"

"Do what?" the pig-tailed boy asked innocently.

"Told them my name!"

Ranma chuckled and clapped the other boy on the back with the palm of
his hand.  "I never said nothin' and you know it!"

Tarou gave a disbelieving snort and resumed walking.  "You were going to
tell them," he said bitterly.

Ranma felt a momentary twinge of guilt but ignored it.  After all, he
hadn't really done anything wrong.  He'd changed his mind in time, and
that's what counted.  "I didn't know you were camera shy, Panko," he
said, smirking.

"What shy?"

"Camera... you know, that big thing on that guy's shoulder?" Ranma
explained.

"Oh."  A faint flush began to appear across the Chinese boy's cheeks.

"You don't know what a camera is?" Ranma asked incredulously.

"I know what they are," Tarou snapped.  "I've never seen one like
that... only little ones.  The Chinese wilderness isn't exactly littered
with them, you know."

Ranma hoisted his backpack onto his shoulders and watched as Tarou did
the same.  "C'mon, let's get out of here."

***************

The two boys started off at a run as soon as they'd left the village,
and, except for a brief kettle stop for Tarou (and Ranma's sanity, since
the other boy obviously wasn't going to quit complaining until he had
been changed back), didn't slow down until they had reached the rocky
outcrop.  Up close, it appeared much larger than expected, approximately
three hundred feet high and five hundred across its base.  They searched
around for a while, Ranma periodically calling out Ryouga's name, but
finding no sign of him other than the occasional hoof print.

By late afternoon, rain clouds had gathered thickly in the sky and the
temperature had begun to drop.  The two boys stopped their search and
pitched the tent, barely finishing before the rain started to fall.

Ranma sat on his bedroll, fidgeting as he listened to the steady rhythm
of the rain beating down on the tent.  It was frustrating; there was at
least one more hour of daylight left, but he couldn't go outside in the
rain.  He turned to Tarou, who was sitting cross legged in the far
corner of the tent with his eyes closed.  He'd been like that ever since
the rain had started.  In fact, he'd been unsociable the entire
afternoon, ever since they'd visited the village.  He couldn't still be
moping about that name thing, could he?

"Why aren't you out there?" Ranma asked.  "I thought you wanted to get
your curse back?"

"I do."  Tarou opened his eyes, and gazed at Ranma coolly.  "Listen.
That body has very good hearing, and you've been out there shouting.  If
he was nearby, he'd have heard you."  He gave a derisive snort.
"Assuming he's still alive, that is."

"What?  He was okay this morning."

"He's eaten twice that we know of, and not much either time.  You have
no idea how much a creature that size needs to eat to stay alive, do
you?  If that's all he's had, I'm guessing we have another day or two
before it's too late.  The good thing is, the less he eats the more he
weakens, and that increases our chances of catching him."

"What?!" Ranma exclaimed indignantly.  "That's pretty heartless, even
for you."

"I'm just being realistic."

Realistic?  No, he had to just saying that to make Ranma feel bad.  He'd
be worried, otherwise.  Worried he wouldn't get his curse back.  "And
what'll you do?  If he does die?  You don't want to be stuck with that
girl curse forever, do you?"

"Of course not.  If that happens, then I'll head back to China, to
Jusenkyou, get myself re-cursed."  He smiled.  "You never know, I might
decide on the Spring of Drowned Ashura this time around.  Or maybe find
something stronger."  Tarou paused, the hint of a sneer crossing his
features.  "Why?  Are you worried about him?"

"Of course I am!  He's... my friend, and I'm not just gonna let him die!
Not like that!"

"How touching."

Ranma sat and observed the other boy for a moment.  The Chinese boy's
face was twisted into that irritating, triumphant little smirk which was
obviously meant to convey just how superior he was.  Ranma felt a
powerful, spiteful urge to wipe it away.  "Don't you care about anyone
except yourself?" he asked quietly.

Tarou's expression grew dark, and his fists clenched tightly, knuckles
whitening.

"That's it, isn't it?" Ranma continued, his voice hardening.  "You don't
care who gets hurt, as long as you get what you want."

"Why should I care?" Tarou snarled, muscles now rigid with tension.
"It's not like any-" he began roughly, before cutting himself off
abruptly.  "Just shut up, fem-boy!  You don't know anything about me!"

"Stop calling me names, damnit!  I've been tryin' to be nice to you!"

"When?!  You mean when you were going to tell all those people my name?
And those times you keep calling me...?"  Tarou trailed off, for a
moment looking uncharacteristically lost.

"Don't call you what?" Ranma smiled, feigning innocence.  "Pantyhose
Tarou?"

"Don't call me that!"

"Don't call you what, Pantyhose Tarou?"

"Don't call me by my name!!" Tarou snarled, his face reddening with
rage.

"And what name would that be?"  Ranma resisted the urge to laugh out
loud.  This was so much fun!

The Chinese boy rushed forward and seized Ranma by the collar, hauling
him so close that their noses were almost touching.  For one awful
moment, it seemed as though other boy was trying to kiss him.  He
clenched a fist, preparing to clobber the jerk into the next time zone.


"Don't call me..." Tarou growled forcefully, each word clear and
precise.

"Go on, say it," Ranma taunted.  "Say it.  It's your name.  I don't
think I've ever heard you say it."  He grinned nastily. "My name's Ranma
Saotome.  Why don't you tell me what yours is?"

The grin faded as he saw the stricken look flash briefly across the
other boy's face.  It then switched back to rage, and he released
Ranma's shirt and jumped to his feet.  Ranma sprang up and landed in a
defensive stance, expecting a fight, but the other boy merely shoved
past him roughly and ran out of the tent into the rain.

*************

No!  There was no chance in hell he was going to let fem-boy see him
cry!  No way he was going to cry!  No way he was going to let himself
turn into that frightened, pathetic little boy he used to be.  Why was
he feeling like this?  He didn't feel strong anymore.  He had become
weak in mind as well as body.  And those words the ex-cross dressing
freak had said had actually hurt instead of just enraging him, just like
they used to, many years ago; when he was a sad, lost, lonely, weak
little child.

He curled himself up against the rocks, knees huddled against his chest,
and angrily swiped at the single tear that had dared to run down his
cheek.

It was the Name.  That's what it all came back to.  People laughed at
him for the Name, hated him for the Name.  Even on the rare occasions
they pretended to be nice to him, the Name would come up eventually, and
they would taunt him with it.  It was like a hidden dagger; even when it
was out of sight he knew it was still there, and it would only be a
matter of time before they stabbed him with it.  And so he'd had to hide
the Name, hide himself, toughen himself up so the dagger wouldn't sting
so much when it cut him.

Over the last several days, he'd become careless and allowed that shield
to drop.  He was losing his self control.  He had lost his powerful
cursed body, a body he'd had his whole life.  He had become raw, exposed
and vulnerable.

What did he care what fem-boy thought of him anyway?  He didn't even
like the jerk!  They'd been thrown together, most unwillingly.  What did
it matter that it was the longest he'd ever spent alone with someone -
someone who knew his name, knew who he was - since he'd left his
village?  What did it matter that, on the rare occasions that fem-boy
actually kept that mouth of his shut, he'd found himself almost enjoying
the fact that he wasn't alone?

What did any of it matter?

Drip.

He closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the rock behind him,
trying to clear his thoughts.  He couldn't keep letting his emotions run
away like this; he had to regain some semblance of control before he
made a complete fool of himself.  He took a deep breath and then let it
flow out of him.  And then another, and another.

Drop.

He became aware of the raindrops trickling down his face, cold water
running down his arms.  It felt strangely pleasant, that cool drip and
tickle as the water ran over human skin; the thick, shaggy fur of his
other body had kept out all but the heaviest rain.  He held out his
hand, palm upwards, to catch the water, the same way he had used to do
as a child.  It had been almost like a game to see how many drops he
could catch without triggering his curse, the only thing he could do
when he was stuck inside on those long rainy days.

Drip.

"Get away from there!  Are you trying to change inside and wreck this
house the way you did Meiying's?"

"No."

He snatched his hand back from the doorway and wiped it dry on his
pants, and then looked up at the woman standing over him.  She wasn't
his mother - she had died two years earlier - but he was living with her
family for the time being.  This was the seventh family he had lived
with since his mother's accident.  For some reason, no one seemed to
like having him around for very long.

He turned back around and peered through the doorway into the rain.  He
hated the rain.  It kept him stuck indoors and it kept him from doing
his chores in the pig-pen and the fields.  He didn't like doing them,
but people left him alone if he kept busy and, if he did a good enough
job, then maybe - just maybe - someone would like him enough to take
care of him and not send him away again.

He could see his Sifu performing kata out in the rain and wished he
could go to him.  Sifu was nice to him.  He had wanted to be allowed to
live with Sifu, but he had said he was too old to look after young
children.  He still visited every day he could for training, though.  He
was already much faster and stronger than the other children and he
loved martial arts; it seemed to be the one thing he was good at.
Someday he was going to be powerful, stronger than anyone in the
village, stronger even than Sifu.  Perhaps one day, he could even be
stronger than those beautiful warrior women he had seen training in the
fields nearby, their weapons arcing through the air like lightning
bolts, their breastplates and colourful silks gleaming in the sunlight.


There was a childish shriek as two young boys ran past the door, one
pursuing the other.  The pursuer caught up with the other and wrestled
him to the ground, where they both rolled around in the mud, giggling.
Tarou shrank back away from the doorway, out of sight.  It didn't matter
that they were younger than him; they still knew his name and knew how
to torment him.  While in the village, he couldn't even use his monster
body to frighten them into leaving him alone; he would have to accept
their taunts in silence, feeling every word tear at him inside until
there was nothing left.  He hated them.  Hated them for what they could
do to him, and hated that he could not do anything to prevent them.

"Pantyhose Tarou," the woman called.

Peals of laughter rang out from the two young boys outside.

Tarou turned to her stiffly, struggling to keep the rage from showing on
his face.  She looked down at him disapprovingly - how could she not,
when he was cursed with a name like his?  How could she show him
anything other than pity and revulsion?

"Come and help me make lunch."

Silently, he made his way over to the table, where she handed him a
knife and some vegetables.  He sat down and began to slice the green
onions.

"Such a sullen little boy," he heard her mutter.

He didn't answer.  What was he supposed to say?  How could he make her
feel any differently about him?  He continued chopping in silence.

**************

Ranma sat by the tent's entrance, arms wrapped around his knees, and
stared blankly out at the rain.  The stupid, oversensitive fool, running
off again, just like he had the day before.

No, not like the day before.  Then, he had been angry, but now...

He couldn't even say that it had been an accident this time.  He'd
deliberately lashed out at the other boy's weak spot, and he couldn't
deny that he'd felt a certain amount of grim pleasure in doing it.  Just
like he had earlier, at the village, when he was going to tell the Kyoko
and the villagers Tarou's name.  He'd only stopped because he didn't
want to look like a bully beating up a girl, not out of pity.  He'd
never stopped to think that perhaps the Chinese boy's name wasn't just
the annoyance that he'd assumed it was, when all along, the poor jerk
couldn't even bring himself to say it.

That stupid, overemotional idiot...

The sun was setting; it had to have been at least half an hour since
he'd left.  Ranma had expected him to return within a few minutes, like
he had before.  Maybe he wasn't coming back.  Maybe he'd left for good,
and was heading back to China like he had wanted to.  Back to Jusenkyou.
No, he hadn't even taken his cloak - he wouldn't leave without that,
surely.

Perhaps he should go out and look for Tarou.  Maybe... maybe even try to
apologise, or something.  Maybe then, if the other boy did decide to go
back to Jusenkyou, he might be persuaded take Ranma with him.  Ranma
filled the kettle and placed it on the gas stove so it could heat up
while he searched, wrapped Tarou's cloak snugly around himself, and
headed out into the rain.

Ranma found the Chinese boy sitting at the base of the cliff with his
back against the rocks.  His head was bowed against his chest, his hair
plastered thickly against his head with the rain, and he held a slender,
feminine arm outstretched as if catching the rain drops.  As Ranma
approached, he raised his head and gave a sort of grim smile, his lips
pressed tightly together.

"Here you are." Ranma said, with forced cheer.  "Finished... whatever it
was you were doin'?"

Tarou emptied the water out of his outstretched hand and unsuccessfully
tried to wipe it dry on his sodden pants.

"I've put the kettle on," Ranma continued.  "D'you want some tea?  Or
hot water?"

Tarou nodded slowly.

"C'mon then."

Ranma turned and started to walk off in the direction he had come, Tarou
following silently behind him.

Inside the tent, Ranma tossed the cloak aside and began to rummage
through his backpack.  Tarou sat down by the kettle cross-legged and
touched a hand to its side.  Ranma sat opposite him, twisting a pair of
black pants and a white singlet about in his hands as he studied the
other boy.  His expression was one of faint boredom, but looking closer,
Ranma could see how haggard he looked.

"You didn't have to run off like that.  It ain't like I've never seen
you cry before."

"I wasn't!" Tarou snapped indignantly.

"Sure you weren't," Ranma smirked.  "Here."  He tossed the clothes
towards the other boy.

"What are these for?"

"They're for you... you know, to wear," Ranma said.  "If I gotta look at
you, you can at least be dressed."

Tarou laid Ranma's clothes aside and started to tug off his own.

"Look, Tarou... can I call you Tarou?"

The Chinese boy's hands froze in the middle of untying his vest.
Eventually, he nodded.

Ranma stared absentmindedly at the back of his hand, trying to think of
a way of phrasing what he was about to say.  He'd always hated
apologising; it made him feel like a naughty little boy.  "I shouldna
done that thing with the name this morning," he eventually managed to
spit out.  "And I prob'ly shouldna said that stuff earlier.  And... I
won't anymore, okay?"

Immediately, Tarou opened his mouth to respond, his lips twisting into a
derisive sneer, but then closed it again without making a sound.  His
hands dropped to his sides limply and he turned and stared off into the
distance, his expression unreadable.

"Why are you being nice to me?" Tarou whispered.

There was that question, again.  He'd asked the same question the first
time he'd visited, back after they'd convinced Happousai to change his
name.  And at other times, even if he hadn't asked the actual question,
there was that same sheer disbelief.

"Why?  I don't like bein' hated.  And I just wanna work together and
find Ryouga."  Ranma paused, waiting for a response, but there was none.
"I used to keep doing the name thing 'cause you kept calling me fem-boy
and bein' a jerk and stuff, and 'cause it made you angry," he explained
further.  "I didn't realise... but I don't mean to hurt nobody.  Not
even you."

Tarou bowed his head against his chest, his face hidden in the shadows
of his thick black bangs.  Ranma leaned forward and laid a hand on the
other boy's arm, hoping that he wasn't about to burst into tears or
anything embarrassing like that.

"Tarou?"

Tarou jerked his head up and met Ranma's gaze.  His eyes were dry but he
did appear to be feeling rather moved.

"The kettle's hot."

Tarou nodded and quickly stripped himself off, changed himself back, and
then dressed himself in the clothes Ranma had given him earlier.

"You think you could stop calling me fem-boy, now?" Ranma said
hopefully.

Tarou shrugged indifferently, but there was a hint of a smile on his
lips.  "At least until you get your curse back.  It doesn't suit as well
at the moment, anyway."

*************

Tarou awoke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest.  He was
sitting bolt upright, clutching desperately at his left shoulder, trying
to ease the throbbing dream pain although it was already receding.  He
shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, trying to shed the after
images of his dream.  Another nightmare.  The same one he had been
having for several days.  A memory, and not one he was prepared to deal
with yet; not one he'd ever wanted to deal with.

... running blindly through the darkness, half out of his mind with pain
and shame...

He pushed aside the thought and looked around intently, as if he could
drown out the dream images with real-life ones.  Through the open tent
flap, he could see the muted, almost blue-tinged light which indicated
it was just before dawn.  Beside him, Ranma was sprawled most of the way
off his bedroll, snoring loudly, looking and sounding uncannily like a
younger - but skinnier - version of his father.

Tarou crawled down to the end of his bedroll, where his clothes, still
soggy from the previous evening's rain, lay bundled up on the ground.
He picked through them until he found his leather pouch, still hidden in
the folds of his sash.  He opened it and checked the contents, glad that
the rain hadn't damaged anything.  The incense sticks were the most
important items in there - other than his mother's earring, of course.
Mentally, he congratulated himself that he'd thought to move them from
the cardboard tube that they'd originally been in to a waterproof tin.
He fastened the pouch back up and slipped it into his backpack, tucking
it well out of sight at the bottom.  It would be more secure there than
in his sash, and he didn't want to risk fem-boy finding it and guessing
the purpose for the incense before he had a chance to use it on him.

Tentatively, he poked a head out of the tent.  Everything was still
damp, but it had obviously stopped raining early in the night.  The sky
was completely clear; a deep indigo dotted with a handful of rapidly
fading stars.

He stepped outside and stretched the kinks out of his neck, and then set
out through the trees looking for firewood.  He drifted along silently,
avoiding the wet grass and low hanging branches with an ease and grace
that came from many years of practice, pausing every so often to pick up
a suitable lump of wood and add it to the growing bundle tucked under
his arm.  He hadn't expected to find a stream this high up in the
mountains, but he did locate a small waterhole nestled in a natural
hollow only a short distance from the campsite.  The water was clear and
tasted fresh enough to drink, so he made a mental note of its location
and headed back to the camp.

Working quietly so as not to accidentally wake Ranma, he grabbed the
cooking equipment, the kettle, a knife, a box of waterproof matches and
the food supplies from the backpacks.

Most of the timber he had collected was still damp, so he selected a
suitable piece and, using the knife, deftly whittled away the wet outer
layer.  He then shaved off a number of small curls of the dry inner
wood, which he gathered in a pile on the ground.  He struck a match and
touched it to the pile; the shavings caught fire quickly, and by blowing
gently and adding some tiny twigs, and then adding progressively larger
pieces of wood, he managed to coax the tiny flames to life.  Satisfied
that the fire wouldn't go out, Tarou tossed on several more pieces of
wood, and then wandered off to fill the kettle.

Tarou knelt down by the waterhole and dipped the empty kettle into the
water, careful not to disturb the mud at the bottom.  He sat for a
moment, mesmerised by the ripples that drifted across the water,
glinting silver in the early morning sunlight.  Two small birds flitted
past and landed on the opposite side of the waterhole.  They weren't
frightened by his closeness; he had long ago mastered the art of being
able to fade his presence into the background when he wanted to.  It was
the way he had survived so many years on his own.

He stood up in a single fluid motion and headed back through the trees
towards the camp, shielding his eyes from the long fingers of light
peeking through the trees.  He still enjoyed his early mornings alone,
although, inexplicably, Ranma's company wasn't bothering him as much as
it had previously.  The first night - the one he had spent at the Tendou
Dojo - he had confidently predicted that he'd have strangled the pig-
tailed boy in his sleep by now, but instead, even if they didn't
actually like each other, they did seem to be getting along much better
than he had thought possible.

Tarou settled down cross-legged by the fire and began to chop the
leftover roast pork into the cooking pot, letting his mind wander as his
fingers went through the familiar motions automatically.  He was curious
about the moves that Ranma had been practicing - or at least, attempting
to practice, he thought to himself with a chuckle - the previous
morning.  Now that he had deduced the underlying principles of the move
and seen a demonstration, he no longer considered the non-perfect
variety to be much of a threat; the range was too small and the stance a
dead giveaway, giving him ample time to back out of reach.  On the other
hand, it should be a simple enough technique to duplicate, if he could
find an emotion which suited him better than fem-boy's ego or pig-boy's
depression.  He had never been particularly interested in flashy ki
techniques, preferring to rely on either his formidable hand-to-hand
skill or the power of his cursed form.  His cursed body, however, as
much a part of him as his human body, was - for the present, at least -
no longer an option.  He needed to find a replacement weapon to add to
his arsenal, and if a flashy ki technique was what was available, then
that's what he'd learn.

He discarded the now meatless pig bones, then added some dried
vegetables, water, soy sauce and several pinches of suitable smelling
spices to the cooking pot.  Then, he hung the cooking pot over the fire,
and went off to find a suitable area for his usual morning practice
while breakfast was cooking.

***************

He couldn't smell them yet, but their thin, yowling voices tore through
him.  These weren't foxes - just another predator to be feared - these
were infinitely worse.  Cats.  Even as a human, the mere thought of them
horrified him, but now, as a piglet, the fear had been magnified a
thousandfold.

They were approaching.  He didn't turn to look.  He couldn't bear to see
all those piercing, slitted eyes, glowing unnaturally green, staring at
him.

He ran.  Sprinted through the undergrowth as fast as he could, sheer
primal terror coursing through every fibre of his body.  They were
gaining on him.  He tried not to imagine the weight of their bodies upon
him, the feel of their claws in his flesh; tried not to think about
those hundreds of little needle teeth, reeking of fish, biting into him.
A fresh wave of fear flooded through him, and then another as he
realised that his piglet body was fleeing purely on instinct, and that
he had no more chance of controlling it than if he'd been a flea on its
back.

Suddenly, he was human again and standing face to face with Ryouga.  The
cats were clustered around them in a large circle, the nearest ones
sitting several metres away, and somehow, Ranma knew that Ryouga was the
one keeping them away from him.

"Ryouga!  You gotta help me!" he cried.  "Get 'em away from me!"

The lost boy simply looked at him, his large brown eyes filled with
regret.

"C'mon, man!  Please?  I'm gonna go crazy!" Ranma pleaded, not caring
how desperate he sounded.  He could feel the Nekoken clawing at the
edges of his psyche, trying to take over.

"You were too late to help me," Ryouga replied darkly.

"What are you talking about, idiot?!  Help me!!"

"It's too late.  You took too long, Ranma.  I can't help you anymore."

The lost boy cast one last, almost apologetic, look at Ranma and then
vanished into thin air, leaving the pig-tailed boy alone with the cats.
In one smooth movement they pounced, piling on top of him, their
dreadful cries drowning out his screams.

Ranma opened his eyes, relief flooding through him as he recognised his
surroundings.  His heart was racing; pounding in his chest like it was
trying to break out through his ribcage.  He sat up and took several
deep breaths, trying to calm himself down.  He wasn't in the forest,
being attacked by what seemed like thousands of cats.  He was here, in
the tent, and he was safe.

"What a weird dream!" he muttered, rubbing at his sweaty face with his
hand.  He felt uneasy, as though he were still being hunted.

"...you were too late..."

What had that been about?  Too late for what?  Was Ryouga angry with
him... is that why he wouldn't help?  And why the tremendous feeling of
sorrow from the lost boy?

He was interrupted in his thoughts by the sound of the tent flap being
pushed aside.  He looked up to see Tarou peering in at him curiously.

"You're finally awake," the Chinese boy remarked.  "Hungry?"

"Yeah."

Unusually for him, he wasn't, but he knew he would be later if he didn't
force something down.  He followed the other boy to the campfire, where
he was handed a bowl of meat, vegetables and rice.  Ranma picked at it
half-heartedly at first, his eating gradually gaining momentum as the
knot of unease in his stomach melted away.

"You look terrible," Tarou said brightly.

Just great, Ranma thought.  He'd only been awake for two minutes and
he'd already been insulted - that had to be a record, even for Tarou.
So much for hoping that being nicer to the jerk might encourage him to
act less unpleasantly in return.

"You ain't exactly gonna win a beauty contest yourself."

"You were making enough noise in there," the Chinese boy said.  "Bad
dream?"

"Yeah, kind of.  Did I.... say anything?"

"You were screaming," Tarou offered.  "Does that count?"

"Was not!" Ranma snapped.  He folded his arms across his chest
indignantly.

"And you were calling out pig-boy's name," Tarou added, smirking.  He
poked around in his bowl with his chopsticks, absentmindedly.  "Maybe it
wasn't screaming I heard, after all."

"That's right!" Ranma growled.  Ranma Saotome didn't scream like some
sissy girl over a bunch of stupid cats.  At least he hadn't been yelling
about cats in his sleep - he hated to think how much mileage Tarou would
get out of his phobia.  He decided that it was safer to change the
subject; the Chinese boy had an irritating knack for figuring things out
with very little information.

"What've you got to be so cheerful about, anyway?"

"No particular reason.  I did find something you might be interested in,
though."

"Yeah, what?"

Tarou chuckled.  "I'll show you.  Hurry up and finish eating."

Tarou quickly emptied his bowl, grabbed some things from around the
campfire and then disappeared into the tent.  Ranma was happy to ignore
him and finish eating in peace.

After breakfast, Tarou led them out to the rocks, to the side furthest
away from the campsite.

"So," Tarou said grandly, a broad smirk plastered across his face, "what
do you see?"  He gestured expansively with a sweep of his arm.

Ranma gazed around him.  The rocks loomed up into the sky above him, and
the ground around him was smooth, level and free of trees.  He frowned.
The jerk couldn't just tell him what he had found like a normal person,
could he?

"I dunno," Ranma replied irritably.  "Why don't you tell me what I'm
s'posed to see?"

"What's the matter?" Tarou smiled.  "You can't figure it out on your
own?"

"Y'know Tarou, I think I like you better when you're in a bad mood,"
Ranma said.

"You're no fun."  The Chinese boy gave a dismissive snort, then pointed
at the ground at his feet.  "Here.  See the tracks?"

Ranma squinted down at where Tarou had indicated; it was only faint, but
he could make out a depression in the shape of a large cloven hoof.

"A hoof mark?" Ranma grumbled.  "We saw a heap yesterday, remember?
What's so special about this one?"

"Look in front of it."

Ranma did so.  A couple of steps to the side and in front of the first
track, he found another, sunk slightly deeper into the ground than the
first.

"Yeah, there's another one.  He's walking."

"And in front of that one?"

Ranma folded his arms across his chest indignantly and scowled at the
Chinese boy.  He didn't like to feel stupid and he didn't like to feel
talked down to, and right now Tarou was doing a great job of both.
Eventually he walked forward and examined the ground in front of the
second track.

"I don't see anything," he said, puzzled.

"That's because there aren't any more," Tarou explained slowly.  "He's
taking off."  He demonstrated by stepping forward twice, putting more
weight on the front foot.

"Oh yeah."  Ranma wandered around, scouring the ground for more tracks.
Tarou couldn't have been so excited about this one set of tracks.  There
had to be something he was missing, and he was damned if he was going to
ask about it unless he had to.  "Here's another set!" he exclaimed
brightly, pointing out a second set of tracks in the dirt.

"That's right," Tarou said.  "And there's a third one over there."

Three sets of hoof marks, all taking off in the same direction.  Ranma
peered up into the sky, then at the rocks.  "He's flying up to the top?"
he muttered.  "No, wait."  He looked closer, focusing on a dark shadowy
patch about two thirds of the way up the rocks.  "Is that a cave?"

"Bingo!"

"But how do you know if he's still up there?"

"I don't, but I have found only two sets of tracks where he's landed.
That could be because he flew further the third time, or I could have
missed them, or it could be because he hasn't come down yet.  We won't
know unless we go up there."

"Ah!  That's why you've got my torch tucked in your pants, then?"

Tarou grinned.  "He does have a brain!"

"Hey!" Ranma exclaimed, as he lobbed a handy pebble at the Chinese boy's
head.  Tarou dodged it, sniggering loudly.

"I'm assuming you know how to climb?" Tarou smirked.

Ranma popped his knuckles, grinning.  "Of course."

Naturally, Ranma wasn't about to let Tarou show him up at something
physical, so he took a flying leap at the cliff face and landed nimbly
on a small ledge about thirty feet up.  There was another ledge higher
up, which he sprang up to and caught the edge of with his fingers.  With
a grunt of effort, he pulled himself up and hooked his feet onto the
ledge, then stood up, trying to work out his next move.  There weren't
any more overhanging ledges nearby, so he tucked his fingertips into
small cracks between the rocks and began to climb.

Progress was slow.  The rocks were weak and crumbly and Ranma had had
more than one potential handhold break away under his hands.  In the
end, he kicked off his shoes, so that he could get a better grip with
his toes, Martial Arts Tea Ceremony style.

"Watch it you idiot!"

Ranma felt a small rock hit him on the back of his thigh.  He looked
down to see Tarou scowling up at him, and below him, his discarded shoes
fluttering down towards the ground.

"Who are you calling an idiot?" he called down.  He tossed a pebble down
towards the other boy for emphasis.

Ranma heard Tarou mutter something under his breath but could not make
out the words.  He grinned to himself and continued climbing.  To his
surprise, he found that he was enjoying himself.  It wasn't in his
nature to think too much about a problem - unless it was combat related,
and even then he preferred to just wing it - so he particularly liked
anything he could tackle using his body alone.  On top of that, it
seemed they were finally catching up with Ryouga.  Hopefully, Tarou's
predictions from the previous evening regarding the lost boy's health
had been an exaggeration, designed to upset him or make him feel guilty
- Ranma wouldn't put it past him.

Eventually, he neared the cave entrance.  He hooked his fingers over the
edge and heaved himself up, barely missing landing in a puddle of water,
left over from the previous night's rain.  He drew himself upright and
grinned down triumphantly at the Chinese boy, still about ten feet below
him.

"Hurry up slowpoke!" he called down the cliff.

He chuckled to himself, ignoring the irritated look he'd just been
given.

Before long, Tarou had reached the cave entrance.  Ranma stood on the
edge with his arms folded across his chest, looking down as one hand
gripped the edge, then the other.

"Now, where've I seen this before?"

Tarou froze, his eyes narrowed.

"C'mon," Ranma said, grinning.  He knelt down by the edge and extended a
hand.  "Watch the water when you come up."

Tarou gave the hand a pointed look, and then, almost hesitantly, took it
in his and hauled himself over the edge, carefully placing only his
fingertips in the puddle.  He then climbed to his feet and approached
the cave entrance, tugging the torch free from his sash as he did so.
Ranma stood beside him and peered into the darkness, catching only
glimpses of the cave interior as the light from the torch danced around.


"How 'bout you give me that?" he said, indicating the torch.  "I can't
see a thing the way you're waving it about."

Grudgingly, Tarou handed the torch over.  Ranma, lighting the way, began
to head into the cave.

The floor sloped upwards for a short distance and then fell away again.
The air was heavy, dank and stale, like some long forgotten tomb.  Here
and there, Ranma could see hoof prints and the occasional enormous
handprint pressed into the earthen floor.  Their progress was eerily
silent, the soft padding sounds of Ranma's bare feet and Tarou's
slippered ones barely disturbing the darkness.

Eventually, the tunnel opened out into a massive cavern, stretching out
into the darkness beneath them.  Ranma shone the torch over the edge of
the cliff, but the beam wasn't strong enough to penetrate to the bottom.


"What do we do now?" Ranma said despondently.  "Ryouga!" he called.
There was no response.  "Ryouga!!"  He felt a tingle of fear on the back
of his neck.  "Maybe he's not in here."

"Maybe we're too late," the Chinese boy replied grimly.  "Maybe he's
dead."

"... you were too late..." echoed the voice from his dream.

Ranma felt a flush of rage from within.  "No!" Ranma shouted.  "He's not
dead and he's my friend and I'm gonna find him, even if I have to do it
myself!"

"Ooh, how touching," Tarou chuckled.

"Shut up, you!" he growled.  He stepped right up onto the overhanging
lip and the edge of the cliff, and leaned over, trying to find a way
down.

"Watch it!  The rock-" he heard Tarou say from behind him.

He wasn't sure what happened next.  The lip of rock seemed to tilt and
crumble beneath him.  The torch slipped from his fingers, spinning away
into the darkness.  He felt fingers scrape past his arm, trying to grab
hold of him, but they had missed.  He could hear Tarou shouting
something at him, but he couldn't make out the words over the roar of
the rocks.  His stomach gave a sickening lurch as he went into a
freefall.

His eyes were opened wide, but all he could see was an expanse of black.
He felt strangely calm, and his only real regret was that he would never
see Akane again.  His last thought, before his world exploded in pain
and blackness, was a hope that Tarou would go back to the dojo and
explain what had happened; at least that way, she wouldn't need to spend
the rest of her life worrying about him.

**************

The cry awoke him from his slumber.  Somebody was in trouble... they
needed him.  He couldn't remember the direction of the cry, but luckily,
the hearing of this beast form was good enough that he could hear the
person falling through the air.  He rushed towards them, ignoring the
dizziness that threatened to make him pass out again, letting every
protective instinct in his body take over. He made it just in time,
cupping his great hands under the falling figure just before they hit
the ground.

He heard another shout from high up on the cliff face.  He was fairly
sure the second person was male, although it was one of those voices
that made it hard to tell.

The person in his hand wasn't moving.  He could smell blood, but he
could also make out a heartbeat when he lowered an ear to the person's
chest.  This person was definitely a male, and he was alive, but
unconscious.  He needed to be taken to a doctor.

Ryouga mustered all of his available strength and took off, flapping his
tiny wings as fast as he could.  He turned all of his attention to the
second figure on the cliff, quickly homing in on their position using
his hearing.  As gently as he could, he picked up the second person in
his free hand, wishing he had a way of reassuring them that he wouldn't
hurt them.  They hadn't needed rescuing, but the last thing he wanted
was for them to panic when he came past and run blindly off the cliff.

He tucked himself into the tunnel and began to walk.  There wasn't much
room, so he had to hunch over, laying his tentacles flat against his
back so that he didn't scrape their tender flesh on the rocks above.  He
ignored the way his head was throbbing, and he ignored the waves of
nausea he felt rising.  He wondered why he felt nauseous; it's not like
he had eaten anything to throw up anyway.

As he walked, Ryouga turned his attention to the second person, who he
could now feel was also male, curious why he hadn't screamed or
struggled.  Not only that, the person was speaking to him calmly, saying
something about campsites and hot water nearby.  In fact, now that he
thought about it, the person's voice did sound familiar.

Finally, he reached the cave entrance.  He squinted his eyes against the
glare, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the daylight and for the black
spots to stop dancing around in front of his eyes.  Gingerly, he opened
his eyes, and looked at the people in his hands.

In his left hand was Ranma; he was unconscious.  In his right, Pantyhose
Tarou, most definitely conscious and addressing him in that typical
haughty manner of his.  Ryouga decided to ignore him for the time being,
at least until he got onto the ground.  His mind was reeling with
questions, but unfortunately it was also just reeling and it was all he
could do to stay on his feet.

He jumped off the cliff, concentrating on keeping his wings flapping.
He hit the ground hard - too hard - relying on his martial arts training
to roll to the side properly and keep the people in his hands safe.  He
struggled up to his feet again, and then placed Tarou on the ground.
The Chinese boy was speaking again, more urgently this time, pointing
back towards the rocks.  Ryouga tried to listen, but the pounding in his
head seemed to fill his whole world and he couldn't make out the words.
He couldn't remember ever feeling this tired; he just needed to rest for
a while, and then everything would be alright.  He laid Ranma down
gently and then, slowly, collapsed forward onto the ground beside him.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Rebecca
email: rmthornton (AT) gmail (DOT) com

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