Continuation (3):

	Dawn brightened the day the next morning, flooding through Amy's window and caressing her
face with warmth.  Rubbing her eyes to rid her of her sleep, Amy hopped out of bed and wrapped 
her fluffy, pink robe around her shoulders, tying the belt loosely around her waist to hide her 
nightgown.  Stretching her limbs aimlessly, she exited her room and paraded down the stairs, 
surprised by the welcoming aroma of a waiting breakfast.
	*Making breakfast again, I see,* Amy thought to herself, entering the kitchen and 
settling on a stool at the island amid the large room.  *At least she's good for something.*
	Shampoo glanced over her shoulder and smiled.
	"Good morning, Miss Amy," she acknowledged, turning back to the stove and flipping a 
pancake.  "Mousse awake yet?"
	Muffling a yawn, Amy bit back sarcasm.  "He's already left for work, remember?"
	Shampoo glanced at the clock reading nine AM.  Sighing, she cursed herself for missing 
him.  She had been up for a few hours, and was shocked to say that he had left before she could 
say goodbye.
	Flopping the pancakes onto two plates, Shampoo joined Amy at the island counter and 
placed a plate in front of her.
	"We dine alone, then," she replied with a smile.  Amy faked a grin and grabbed two forks
from the drawer.  Tossing one to Shampoo, she dug in half-heartedly.
	"You know, you don't have to try and please me," she announced, adding to herself that it
wouldn't work anyway.  Shampoo smiled in return, holding back her own sarcasm.
	"Shampoo not mind... what Mousse do for work?"
	"He has his own restaurant.  Didn't he tell you?"  She took another bite of her pancake 
and gestured to Shampoo's plate.  "Not hungry?"
	Shampoo twiddled the fork between her fingers, trying eagerly to learn how to hold it the
way Amy was.  
	"You no have chopsticks?"

	"Order's up, table 7!"  Placing the dishes onto a black platter, Mousse set the orders 
onto a counter, sliding the wooden door open.  Nikki, a girl at the age of 19, picked it up and 
walked off towards table seven, glancing back with a smile.
	Sliding the little door shut, Mousse turned back to the flat-topped oven, placing a clean
wok on the solid sheet of metal.  Tossing in some vegetables and noodles, he cranked up the heat,
beginning to prepare table eight's order.
	The Chinese man's attention was directed to a light clacking behind him, as if someone 
was walking on one leg.  Shaking his head, he sighed, comprehending the visitor in his kitchen.
	"My respects, Old Crone, but my kitchen is off-limits," he voiced, glancing back quickly
to the hag.  Cologne hobbled forward on her cane, eager to get a good look at the male Amazon.
	"You have changed, Mu Tsu, and for the better, I give you that."  She sighed, shaking her
head in disgust.  "I do not understand why you house a rebel without considering your honor.  Is
your obsession getting the best of you?"
	Forcing back a growl, Mousse shook his head.  "I am engaged, Cologne, and am not a child
any more.  I admitted defeat a long while ago."
	Another sigh came from Cologne.  "If only you had defeated her and Ranma.  If only you 
had been a more worthy, stronger man."
	His anger replacing any other emotion, Mousse spun around to face the old woman, disgust
etched across his features.
	"You never cared about your own descendent, did you?  You criticize her, even knowing 
that she should have been dead for some time now by some stupid laws that are only inherited into
a tribe!  Hell, your idiotic laws don't even cover China!  And no, I don't give a damn if Shampoo
may be a 'rebel' to the Amazons, and if she wants to stay in my home, fine!  I gave my all in my
teenage years, I tried, but then, she wouldn't have cared if I tried.  Neither you or her would 
have cared, because all you could see was that she had to marry Ranma Saotome.  What I saw was a
dream for a young girl that would never come true.  I was right, wasn't I, Cologne?  Wasn't I?"
	Turning back to his stove, Mousse ignored the silence that emanated from the dining area
of the restaurant.

	After his confrontation with Cologne, Mousse's day had turned out to be a rough one.  He
had decided to stay late and lock up, for he was unable to return home and face the before 
mentioned Amazon.  He couldn't face her, not until he confronted his... their past.  
	*But why not confront it with her?* his conscience scrutinized.  *She wants to as badly 
as you do.*  Mousse shook his head shamefully.  What would Amy think?  His fiancé...  American 
fiancé.  How he despised the country... yet cared for the woman of its descendent.  
	Snapping out of his reverie, Mousse glanced at the clock, which read 9:30.  He cursed 
himself for not even noticing the inky darkness that settled outside his window.  His thoughts, 
once again, had overwhelmed him, and he had lost track of time.
	Snapping off the overhead lights and locking the front door, Mousse headed to the back 
exit, which led to his ride home.  He was grateful for driving Amy's car to work that day, as 
catching a cab was hopeless that morning.  Besides, he never cared much for public 
transportation, let it be a bus or a taxi.  Now, as much as he may have denied it, he only cared
to be home.  
	Pulling out from the back parking area, he chuckled tauntingly to himself.  Home.  He 
never truly had a home.  Not in China, not in Nerima, not now.  Sure, he had Amy and her 
Americanized hellhole of a house, but after Shampoo made her appearance, his whole decision about
moving on had haunted him.  Had he wanted to truly settle down with Amy, or was he looking for a
scapegoat to rid himself of the tortures of his past?  True, she did resemble Shampoo quite a 
bit, though she had long blond hair.  Her eyes and features were uniform, but he had to admit 
that their personalities were as different as night and day.  While Shampoo was a restless, 
fighting spirit of a woman with no respect for personal space, Amy was a snobbish, overbearing, 
pretentious, and impudent woman who relied on others, such as her father and his large wallet, to
take care of her and her needs...  yet, despite those qualities, deep down, he still cared for 
her.  Which one he was talking about, he had no clue.
	Pulling into the long drive of his residence, Mousse turned off the ignition and silently
thanked the Gods for his late driving lessons.  Pocketing the keys, he stopped in his tracks for
an instant as his eyes fell upon the porch.  Shampoo had waited up for him, obviously, and now 
swung back and forth on the wooden bench-swing, staring at the sky.  Sighing, Mousse continued 
towards the house, realizing that he'd have to face her alone some day.
	Straightening his ponytail nonchalantly as he climbed the stairs to the porch, he smiled 
lightly at the Amazon, who in turn continued to stare upwards at the night sky, a smile donning 
her own features.  Glancing towards him, she scooted aside and gestured for him to join her, her
gaze once again locked on the blanket of darkness above them.  Taking the offered seat, Mousse 
joined her, the silence uncanny.
	Breaking the quiet of the evening, Shampoo began in her native language.  "Many stars...
 Not as vibrant as in China, I admit..."
	Mousse nodded, staring well into the little diamonds speckling the curtain of black.  
They winked down at the two, engrossed in the lightshow in return.  A soft giggle found its way 
through Shampoo's throat, as the night had reminded her of her first day on the boat to Japan.  
The sunset, though not as wondrous, had also been a vague reminder, and, of course, her thoughts
had wandered to Irene.  She promised to write to her in the morning, as well as John.
	"A bit exasperated with Japanese, aren't you?" Mousse teased, appeasing Shampoo's 
'problem' with Chinese.  The Amazon giggled, nodding her head regretfully.  
	"I don't think many people care for my broken speech, don't you?"  Mousse shrugged in 
response, considering all the men from the Neko Hanten who had thought of her talking as 'cute.'
	"Not many people minded, I guess."  
	"What did you do with your glasses?" Shampoo asked, crossing her arms and staring at him,
waiting for an answer as if he were a small child.  Mousse chuckled, remembering the thick lenses
of his pair of glasses, which he had happily thrown away.
	"Amy's parents had paid for surgery.  I don't need them anymore."  A thoughtful 
expression deeming Shampoo's face, she let a slight smile cross her features.
	"I guess when I first saw you, I was a little disappointed.  You've changed so much..."
An awkward silence fell amongst the two idly watching the cosmic scenery.  Yet it was Mousse's 
turn to speak through the silence.
	"Shampoo," he began, turning to face her.  She glanced at him nervously, biting her lip 
lightly as Mousse continued.  "Why did you really come here?
	Shampoo's face fell dramatically at his words, her gaze turning to her hands, her fingers
twisting uneasily together.  She refused to meet eyes with him, her eyelashes shrouding her dark
orbs.
	"I can't say..."
	Weary, Mousse leaned his elbow on the small arm of the bench, resting his forehead on his
hand.  Heaving a heavy sigh, he shook his head tiredly, continuing to stare at the uneasy Amazon.
	"If you don't tell me, how can I possibly help you do or get what you want before your 
sentence is carried out?"  Immediately, though not knowing exactly why, he regretted his 
sentence, for the woman beside him had frozen stiff, her shoulders unyielding to any warmth of 
thought or mind.  Her face tensed, as if forcing herself to hold back any hidden emotion inside 
her, as if to make sure any past or present feelings were locked deep within her.  Rising slowly
to her feet, she let out a groan of sorrow, facing him.
	"What would Amy think?" she muttered, her voice sour with abhor.  Shivering, she wrapped
her arms around herself and disappeared inside, eager to get away from he who caused her so much
pain.  She laughed ironically to herself, remembering the days when the pain he had caused was 
just a headache; pain that had never before reached to her heart.

	"We are near to the nihilist," Kye announced over her shoulder, the next city coming into
 view.  It was unlike the last two in which she had sensed the criminal's presence.  They had 
their seaports and tourist merchandize and trinket shops, but they hadn't the key factor that had
piqued her interest.
	"But Liege, you stated that we were near to her in the last two cities," one replied 
behind her.
	"Yes, and after searching the area thoroughly, she hadn't turned up," another piped in, 
voicing slight sarcasm.  Kye whirled around on her heel, seething.
	"Do you dare say I may be wrong?  Do you dare question your leader, one who was appointed
by the head elders?" she boomed, grabbing the two who had spoken by their tied-back ponytails.  
The girls screeched in pain, their scalps pulling taught with their hair.  Tossing them like 
rag-dolls to the ground, she chuckled wickedly as she reminisced.
	"If I had challenged the wretch during the competitions, Khu Lon would have no more 
descendents!"  Returning to her scan of the new city, the head Amazon's eyes brightened at her 
discovery.
	"You see that?" she called to the others, who in turn were seeing to the sobbing women 
who's hair had fallen out due to Kye's ruthful attack.  Angrily, they followed Kye's pointing
finger to the small building she had pinpointed.  Smiling slyly, she enlightened the group.  
"That is proof of her location."
	Dark and well after closing time, the Neko Hanten of Hiroshima sat, a new target for the
Huntresses of the Amazon Tribe.

	Days had passed since Shampoo's little 'conference' with Mousse, and she had gone out of
her way to steer clear of his tracks.  Still, she went out in the morning, well after the 
momentarily dreaded man had gone to work, and quietly made her and Amy breakfast, hoping to 
inspire a little hope of friendship between them.  Though she had agreed with herself that she
hadn't really wanted a friendly relationship with Amy, but if she was the woman whom Mousse would
marry, she'd want to get to know her as best as she possibly could.  She had made it a vow of her
s to at least approve of their engagement, even though it was of no consideration to her.  She 
couldn't stop it.  She had no right to after the ways she had treated to poor man in their 
childhood days.  But she supposed that, seeing how she was running away from so many things, she
was still a child.  She had run away from what could have been happiness, and was now running 
away from her honor.
	*Honor,* she huffed, scrutinizing herself.  *Honor is the only thing driving me to this 
sanity.*  She now sat in the small guest room, her futon and a small writing table the only 
things occupying it besides herself.  She had politely asked to borrow a few clean sheets of 
paper, envelopes, and a few stamps, and Amy was none to gracious to oblige.  Though she knew all
of what to say in her letter, her pen seemed to not get the words right.  What was one to write 
when all that is happening in her life at the moment was rejection and the planning of her death?
	Snapping out of her reverie, Shampoo straightened her paper and began to write. 

	Idly watching her noodles sizzle at the stove, Shampoo didn't notice her visitor in the 
doorway.  Eyes cold and fists clenched, she stood, hatred pooling in her eyes.  She was nothing 
but a wretch, trying to steal what was rightfully hers and become the 'favorite,' innocently 
cooking day in and out.  Trying to win him over.  But if she had it her way, the Chinese whore 
wouldn't get very far.  She'd help carry out her so called 'sentence.'
	Glancing over her shoulder, Shampoo offered a friendly smile to the woman, having 
realized that she was being watched.
	"Nihao, Miss Amy," she cooed, stirring the contents of the wok.  "You like ramen?"
	Keeping her words to herself for the time being, Amy joined Shampoo's side, her stare 
uneasy and unyielding.  Letting a smirk-like smile rise to her lips, the American let her 
attitude slip away for the time being.
	"And what is this 'ramen?'" she returned, her arms folding like steal bars across her 
chest.  Gesturing for Amy to hand her the platters, she piled the food onto one of them and 
placed it in her hands.
	"Is spicy noodles, old restaurant of mine's specialty.  You try, but need chopsticks."  
Ushering the blond to the table, Shampoo helped herself to some as well, grabbing two sets of the
Japanese utensils from the jar on the counter.  Mousse had brought some home from his restaurant
for her after learning how uncomfortable she was with the strange 'forks.'  He hadn't mind, 
Shampoo remembered, because he, too, missed chopsticks, as, to them, they were easier to use.
	Handing the pair to Amy, Shampoo broke hers apart and placed them in her fingers, 
demonstrating for Amy.  Shrugging pitifully, the American tried to copy, her attempts futile.  
Tossing the broken utensils into the garbage can, she retrieved a fork for herself, smiling 
smugly.
	"I think I'll get by with these," she countered.  "I'm capable of relying on my own 
customs."
	Shaking her head, Shampoo giggled, slurping up a few noodles.  "Suit self..."  
	Silence fell between the two, which was none too welcomed by the Amazon.  She didn't care
to make any small talk with the opposite, and she knew the feeling was mutual.  She had more than
just an inkling that Amy despised her for her connection with Mousse, and, once again, the 
feeling was uniform.  
	"Amy," the other began, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.  "What restaurant 
Mousse work at called?"  She tried desperately to ignore the evil eye of the beholder.
	"And why is it of your concern, my dear?" she returned, her voice exerting itself to 
higher levels.  Shampoo shrugged casually, pushing her noodles back and forth in her bowl.
	"Shampoo also work at restaurant before with Mousse, and curious to what he start," she 
countered, finally meeting gazes with the woman.  Amy was at the moment shooting daggers of 
flaming ice at the Amazon, forcing herself all the while to keep on the nice little 'school girl'
attitude.
	"He called it the Neko Hanten, or Cat Café," she answered coolly.  Pushing back her p
late, she got to her feet.  "But I wouldn't bother him at work, if I were you.  Some people just
won't allow it, and it's better to stay on that person's good side."
	Stepping towards the hallway, Amy turned back momentarily.  "And Shampoo, dear, you 
aren't doing a very good job of that."

	Having ignored Amy's heated words, Shampoo now stood before the before-mentioned 
restaurant, straightening her Chinese Capri's and high-collared shirt.  Straightening her hair, 
she sighed, remembering the gift she had sent Irene.  Her deeply shaded lavender hair was now 
pulled back in a long, thick braid, heavily slung over her shoulder.  Though she missed her old 
hairstyle, she readily accepted anything new, eager to discard her old, childish, unwanted 
behavior.  Besides, a little camouflage never hurt.
	Stepping inside, she ignored the hoots and hollers from the rowdy teenagers in the corner
of the dining area and made her way to the kitchen.

	Humming a light tune to herself, Amy lounged on the couch in her lavish living area, idly
rubbing her temples to clear her mind.  The foreign woman caused her such headaches; she was 
surprised she didn't whine to Mousse to kick her out.  For some odd reason, she felt as if some 
opportunity would show up for her to punish the little wretch for barging in on her home.
	Loud banging upon her front door broke through her mantra, forcing the American to her 
feet.  She cursed being alone in that house, meaning she'd have to do everything herself.  Even 
the Chinese wretch was good for something.  
	Pulling the door open, a frown of confusion immediately invaded Amy's expression.  Seven
woman, all clad in armor and raggedly worn outfits, stood before her, the first baring a long 
stone sword.
	"Where is the rebel X'ian Pu?" she grunted, pushing her way into the large house.  The 
other six females followed reluctantly, sparing forgiving glances to the stranger-woman.  Amy's 
face wore shock at the name, a wicked smile replacing her frown.
	"You must be the Hunters," she began, clapping her hands together giddily.  "Do come in!"

	"Shampoo!  What are you doing here?"
	The Amazon in question giggled, Mousse's outburst turning out like clockwork.  She 
granted him a 'forgive me' smile and shrugged.
	"I have question, too!" she countered, slyly crossing her arms.  "What with name, huh?"
	Forcing back a blush, Mousse grinned sarcastically.  "What's wrong with it?"
	"For one," she started, a pout on her lips.  "It bring too many memories.  For two, you 
not cat, you duck."
	Shrugging his shoulders casually, Mousse glanced out the swinging doors towards the 
dining area, scanning the customers.  
	"You're lucky I'm not busy," he announced, changing the subject.  "Everyone's got their 
orders, and Nikki's got her hands full."  Turning back to her, he frowned, finally getting a good
look at her appearance.
	"What?" she asked, all too nervously.  Mousse chuckled, shaking his head and gesturing to
her hair.
	"I thought you hated change."
	Ducking her head sheepishly, Shampoo toyed with her braid, smoothing the castaway strands
down.  "I use barrettes for more important thing."
	"Oh?"
	"Yes," she continued, smiling at the memory.  "I, too, make friends... and they just as 
important to Shampoo as... Amy is to you."  Her expression fell like a ton of bricks at her last
few words, and it hadn't gone unnoticed by the other occupant of the room.
	"You two don't care for each other, do you," he surmised, crossing his arms.  Shampoo 
shrugged once again, a blush blessing her cheeks.
	"Shampoo have a few problems with fiancé of yours," she responded, adding a half-hearted
laugh at the end.  Mousse slowly shook his head, a hand rising to his temple.
	"And why is that, Shampoo," he pressured, hoping to get some progress from one of them.
Shampoo's gaze drifted away from his, faltering under his green eyes.
	"Shampoo can't say," she answered meekly.  Feeling his anger build up, Mousse stepped 
directly in front of the Amazon and clasped her shoulders, forcing her to look at him.
	"You're not making this any easier on me, Shampoo," he hissed, keeping his voice low so 
as not to attract anyone's attention.  "You can't tell me anything, and it's only making things 
worse.  Do you know how hard it is for me to see you and my fiancé ready to rip each other's 
throats out?  Hell, what's harder is that I have to see you again, knowing that you're going to 
die!  I prayed that I could just move on from Nerima, start new and be happy, but not when you're
here.  It just makes everything more difficult for me."  He sighed, letting go of her shoulders.
When he took a good look at her face, her expression didn't hold any 'sorry's.'  But he didn't 
need to read her look in the first place, because she would now explain herself.
	"Hard for you?" she asked, switching to Chinese so she could give him a better version of
her tongue thrashing.  She wanted to get her point across clearly, obviously cursing her lack of
good Japanese grammar.  Most of all, she wanted him to hurt like she did.  "Hard for you?  First,
I was rejected by me own fiancé.  Second, I was sentenced to death.  Third, I was tossed around 
China looking for a place or person I could rely on, and all I found was thieves, junkyards, and
pity.  That was only the beginning of my Hell!  I realize that maybe you could help.  Maybe you'd
forgive me as well.  Maybe you did, but to Hell with forgiveness.  I searched all of China for 
you, then I come here and run away from the Hunters just so as I could find you before the 
Hunters did.  You were my only friend, and I was barely even that, so of course I looked for 
you."  She sighed, her voice dropping a few decimals as it cracked.  "And to find out that you 
have a fiancé... was just as hard as dealing with all of Ranma's."
	Pushing past him, unable to stand beneath the pitying gaze, Shampoo disappeared into the
restaurant area, once again welcomed by catcalls from the rowdy teenage boys.
	Left alone in the refuge of his kitchen, Mousse collected himself, turning back to his 
work.  Maybe that would rid his mind of the memory of the pain in her eyes.

	Sitting at the strangely tall table, the Hunters stared at their tea, relishing the fact
that it was the second time they were invited for tea during their search.  Even Kye was happy, 
a smirk plastered on her face.  The two who had endured her rage sat, blushing and trying to call
attention away from their bald, scarred heads, remnants of dried blood still speckling their 
flesh.
	At the head of the table sat Amy, joyously sipping her own tea.  "So, you want Shampoo?"
she began, smiling politely to what seemed as the leader.  Kye nodded, cracking her knuckles.
	"Yes, we are to carry out her sentence," she replied, eyeing the American woman 
suspiciously,  "And you want to be rid of her as well?"
	Amy nodded vigorously.  "But I have a favor to ask.  Please, don't... get rid of her 
here.  You would attract the public eye's attention, and, of course, would be sent to jail."
	"Jail?" one of the younger girls quipped, not understanding the stranger.
	"Yes," Amy explained.  "No matter of some law you girls have, while you are in Japan, you
cannot murder someone without expecting to be locked up.  It's just not done."
	"Very well," Kye growled, a frown scarring her face.  "We will take her back to the 
village, then do away with the criminal."
	The eight women's attention was grasped as someone entered the front door, her lavender 
hair and broken language her ticket to her fatal ceremony.