Most of the characters within the story are from the Anime Series,
Ranma 1/2 and are property of Rumiko Takahashi, and whoever else may
own the rights. I write this without permission and do so with no
attempt to profit off of the marvelous works. Rather, I do so for
everyone's benefit. Please enjoy and tell me what you think.


In the end, there is often times said to be a bright light at the end
of a narrow tunnel, beckoning the bodiless souls to the afterlife.
For Ranma Saotome of the Saotome School of Anything-Goes Martial
Arts, that is true, but he is not headed towards the afterlife. A
darker, more sinister, fate lies in store for him, one filled with
false promises and double meanings. Everything comes with a price,
and life bears the greatest of them all.

             ********************************************
             *A Ranma 1/2 Fanfiction: Mists of Jusenkyou*
             ********************************************
              Chapter Two of In Search of the South Star
                             by Ryan Erik


                  Part Three: Art of the Blast Fist

    Particles of the shattered brick scattered themselves all over
the grass in the yard. A wry grin  appeared on the face of the
crimson-haired girl as she surveyed her handiwork. Enjoying the cool
breeze, she put her hands through her sweaty hair. She adjusted her
white gi to her small frame before going over to the next set of
bricks, this one much thicker than the last. Calling upon her inner
energy, she focused it upon the bricks.
    A prickle on the back of her neck caused her to draw out of her
concentration and examine her surroundings for any threats. Her quick
instincts saved her, as she caught two darts between the fingers of
her left hand.
    "Huh?" she said right before the second attack.
    Dodging a barrage of throwing stars, she rolled to her right and
tossed the two darts in the direction of her assailant. Hearing a
soft grunt from there, she quickly turned and launched herself the
same way. Catching throwing stars along the way, she landed softly in
front of her opponent, a raven-haired man of about twenty years of
age who wore a similar gi to hers. A sinister grin worn on his face,
he initiated their combat by starting with a series of quick punches.
    "Ya gotta do better than that to beat me!" the girl exclaimed as
she defended herself. Smirking, she returned the assault yelling,
"Kachuu Tenshin Amaguriken!" Her hands blurred as she threw herself
at her opponent, sending nearly two hundred punches his way. Knowing
that he had to back off, the raven-haired man blocked every single
attack but was forced towards the large rocks surrounding the koi
pond in the center of their  battleground. Taking the initiative, she
launched herself into a flying jump-kick, catching the man's shoulder
and sending both of them into the water.
    Bobbing her head up first, the girl pushed her wet bangs out of
her face and searched for her fallen opponent. When he grabbed onto
her legs, she tried to spring out of the pond. The resulting momentum
brought her face down in the water again. Struggling under the man's
grip, she did her best to maneuver herself free.
    "Gotcha," the man leered.
    Her head emerging from the pool yet again, she spit out one of
the fish that made its home in the pond. "You just got lucky."
Quickly adjusting her clothes so that they wouldn't show anything,
she finished, "I'll get you next time!" 
    "You say that every time!"
    "Well, I have beaten you before," she said as she pulled herself
from the pool; the young man had already done so. "I got you on the
shoulder good, though."
    "That you did," he admitted, smiling. "After lunch, I have
something important to tell you." He offered his hand to her and
helped her out of the pool.
    Shrugging, the girl wrung her hair out as she walked towards the
door of the house. Reaching it before her, the man slid the glass
door open and motioned for her to enter first. Drying her feet off on
the mat in front of the door, she then proceeded to walk through
receiving a friendly slap on the rear end. This was followed with the
man falling to the floor, clenching his ribs from her elbow jab.
    Not paying attention to his groaning, she walked in heading
through the kitchen, up the stairs and into the bathroom. Without
looking around, she tugged off her gi and dropped it to the floor.
Walking up to the mirror, her face darkened as she examined her
reflection. Rubbing her hands through her knotted hair, she sighed
and made her way to the shower, quickly rinsing herself off in its
cold water.
    She sneezed violently and giggled to herself. "Someone must be
thinkin' of me," she mused.
    "Probably one of the neighborhood boys," a voice from behind her
sounded, causing her to spin in surprise. Locating the familiar
blonde girl in the bathtub, the redhead sighed again, this time in
relief.
    "Sorry, Amanda-san," she apologized, averting her eyes from the
figure in the bath. "I didn't know you were in here."


    "Join me, Kimchan," Amanda offered, sitting herself to face the
redhead. Knowing the girl's  obvious discomfort, she patted her hand
down on surface of the water with a cheery smile. When Kimiko tried
to mutter an excuse and leave, she used her motherly tones, "Kimiko
Nishiyama, you sit yourself down here and join me this instant!"
    Lowering her head in defeat, Kimiko slowly trudged towards the
bath and sank in on the opposite end. She forced a smile but it could
hardly be called genuine. The girls eyes opened wide when Amanda slid
over from her side towards her.
    "How did your training go?" the blonde asked, trying to spark a
conversation. Though they had excess time on their hands, Amanda
rarely had the chance to sit down and talk to the younger girl. When
Kimiko was not training or fighting with her brother, she would hide
herself in her room or go to the gym her brother owned to work out.
    "Pretty good," Kimiko replied, turning her head.
    "I'm glad to hear that," she returned, slightly dismayed that she
could not get the redhead to share some of her feelings. Changing the
subject, she teased, "You know that the boys around here are all in
love with you, ne?"
    "They can bite themselves," Kimiko grumbled in response.
    Scooting towards the girl, Amanda put an arm around Kimiko's
shoulders. "Honey, just remember that if anything is troubling you,
you can always come to me for advice." Sinking deeper into the tub's
inviting water, she patted her friend's back and slide to the other
end.
    "H-hai," Kimiko stuttered.
    Frowning slightly, Amanda closely looked at her friend. Something
was bothering the younger girl. Could it be she was having problems
with some of the neighborhood boys?
    Amanda picked up her friend's hands in hers and looked her in the
eyes. Her eyebrows curving downward in curiosity, she asked, "Why are
you always so sad? Girls your age are supposed to be having the times
of their lives. Is there something you're afraid of? I promise I
won't tell anyone, not even Kiyoshi, if you don't want me to."
    "N-nothing, I'm not afraid!" Kimiko lied.
    "Look at me, Kimchan," she commanded. When the redhead refused to
turn her head, Amanda let go of the girl's left hand and using her
right, she gently pushed the her head so that they faced each other
again. "Whatever it is that is bothering you, you can tell me. I
won't judge you, honey."
    "It's just...it's just that I-" the redhead began but could not
finish. Her head sunk again, tears streaming down her beautiful face.
Amanda sympathized with her. It had only been a year since she awoke
from her coma, and besides Kiyoshi and herself, the girl was
virtually alone. The boys in the neighborhood saw a beautiful, young
and unclaimed trophy to take by force if need be, while the girls all
saw a girl, much prettier than themselves, causing them all to react
jealously.
    Though, she did talk to her friend Sally McArthur once every so
often, the other girl had left to boarding school after their summer
ended. Besides phonecalls and E-mails, Kimiko very rarely spent any
real time with her only friend.
    Pulling the redhead into a tight hug, Amanda held on until the
girl's protests stopped and she relaxed. She really didn't have too
much of an idea about what the girl was scared about, but she would
stick with her until she got over it.
    Releasing the embrace, Amanda pulled back but left her hands on
her friend's shoulders and looked into her blue eyes. "I'll be here
when you're ready to tell me what's wrong. There's no rush, hon."

        *        *        *

    The silk robe slid off her body, gently falling into a pile
around her feet. A frigid breeze stirred the window shades, shooting
a chill up her spine. Her naked skin quivered under the blanket of
cold, but she ignored the pain. She stood still, the icy air in
contrast with her warm body temperature. Her eyes shut, the cold
truth starting with her hands and feet, numbing them. She resisted
the urge to clutch her arms to her chest, needing to feel this, the
pain of her own existence. She needed to know this was not a dream.
    Unable to withstand the cold any longer, she collapsed onto her
bed, pulled herself under and curled up in its sheltering covers.
Rubbing her arms to her breasts, she warded the burning ice that had
penetrated her exposed flesh. Life reclaimed her body, an
uncomfortable tingling sensation building within her feet.
    Recently, her dreams had become a prison for her consciousness,
trapping her within the depths of her own personal hell. She spent
the day in fear of night and the torment it would bring. Hiding
herself deep within the facade of carefree mirth, she did not express
her true feelings. Outwardly, she smiled, but within she withered, no
longer able to resist the torturously happy memories of her past. She
kept her mask tight to her face, not allowing anyone see the strife
that encased her soul, and it would remain that way.
    Maybe tonight would be peaceful for her spiritual exhaustion
became harder to conceal every night she awoke screaming in terror.
Maybe she would sleep the whole night undisturbed, no phantoms from
her past or ill-fated futures waking her. A day without the dark cape
of death looming above her head, threatening her. One night, one day,
one hour without the perpetual depression would rejuvenate her beyond
what she had been in the past year. It used to be so simple, hiding
within the shelter of innocence, but reality shattered the defenses
she had built around herself.
    A rhythmic knocking on the door jarred her from her thoughts.
    She stood, collected her robe and opened the door ajar after
placing the silk around her thin figure. Revealing her caring, if
blissfully unaware, benefactor, Kiyoshi smiled.
    "You going to eat, or what?" he asked, a touch of concern evident
in his voice.
    "Hai," she replied coolly. "I'll be down as soon as I get
dressed."
    "Don't take too long," he said, taking a few steps backwards
before turning and disappearing from view.
    Kicking the door shut, Kimiko trudged to her dresser and procured
a pair of panties, quickly putting them on. Entering her closet, she
flipped the light switch on. She scanned over her outfits and removed
a pair of blue trousers, and a purple Chinese tunic.
    After dressing, she exited her room and entered the bathroom,
making sure that it was unoccupied first. Tying her hair into a quick
braid, she frowned in dismay at her appearance. Her eyes were still
quite red yet she did not even recall crying. Drying her face with a
towel, she left to join Kiyoshi and Amanda for lunch.

        *        *        *

    "If you took any longer, I'd have eaten your lunch for you,"
Kiyoshi said, between stuffing his face and grinning, as she joined
them in the kitchen.
    "If you did," Kimiko began, "I would've pounded your face till
you spit it back out." She stuck out her tongue at him and started to
devour the sandwich Amanda had prepared for her.
    "Really?" he said smugly, returning the gesture.
    "Stop that, you two!" Amanda scolded. "I expect such behavior
from six year olds! You should be ashamed of yourselves."
    "Sorry, Amanda-san," Kimiko replied weakly, a slight tinge of red
highlighting her cheeks.
    "Sorry, Amanda-san," Kiyoshi copied, his grin never leaving his
face.
    Their lunch continued relatively peacefully until Amanda's glare
fell upon Kimiko again, but this time the girl did not know what she
did wrong. She looked at Amanda, wondering what it could have been
this time.
    "Kimchan?" the blonde asked.
    "Nani?"
    "What did I tell you about wearing a bra?"
    Kimiko nearly swallowed her tongue. She had completely forgotten
to put one on earlier, though she did not think that she needed one
since she would not be working out anymore today. "I-I kinda forgot.
If I'm not working out, why should I have to wear them?"
    "Kimchan, I know that you don't like boy's attention, but not
wearing a bra only makes them gawk more. Either way, it's improper
for a young lady to go without." She pointed towards the redhead's
chest, which now rested on the table.
    Choking on his food, Kiyoshi said something unintelligible. After
Kimiko slapped his back a few times, he recovered.
    "You know," he said, picking up his glass of water. "I wouldn't
be able to see anything if you did wear one." He then proceeded to
splash Kimiko's tunic, defining the fine lines of her chest as it
clung to her skin.
    "Why you!" she growled, chasing him as he fled out of the
kitchen.


    Amanda shook her head disapprovingly at the two of them as the
quickly made their way out of the kitchen. Kiyoshi had become
surprisingly vibrant after Kimiko awakened from her coma a year ago.
When she first started working for the Nishiyamas, he had been quiet
and withdrawn. When Kimiko arrived, she turned out to be the only
person who could draw him from the protective walls he had built
around himself.
    She had noticed, more than a few times, that his teasing of his
sister was something that he missed in his past, which was probably
very lonely with no one but a comatose sister. His teasing had
another benefit also, drawing Kimiko out of her depressions, which
had become less frequent in the recent months. To everyone else, the
girl appeared to be a happy, young teenage girl who was full of life,
but Amanda saw through the act. She was actually scared, lonely and
very depressed, most likely about losing nearly half of her childhood
and both of her parents.
    Amanda knew little of their past, but she dared not ask them.
When anyone would ask Kiyoshi or Kimiko anything that related to it,
they became very withdrawn and quiet. She figured that they need to
put their past behind them so that they can live for now. Kiyoshi
seemed to be doing just that, but Kimiko's puffy red face proved that
she had yet to even begin.
    Some things were obvious, though. Kimiko had obviously been
raised as a boy would and knew little about anything involving girls
and physical situations that they encountered. While most young women
are happy about things like make-up, shopping, boys, clothes, and
their appearance, Kimiko seemed annoyed by all of the above. So far
the worst thing had been when the girl found out about her period.
Amanda still cringed at that incident.

        *        *        *

    The piercing scream woke Amanda instantly, the high pitch cry
sounding like Kimiko's. She quickly put on her night robe and
followed the faint sound of crying. She burst into the bathroom, her
eyes widening at what they beheld. Staring at the floor tiles in
shock, Kimiko sat, spread eagle and naked on her bottom with tears
falling in a stream from her face.
    "Are you okay, honey?" the blonde asked, extremely concerned.
    Without turning her head, Kimiko nearly yelled, "No!" Her sobs
continued, making Amanda more concerned for the poor child's health.
    "What's the matter? Are you hurt?"
    "I-I..." the redhead stuttered. "B-blee...ding..."
    Amanda's eyes opened wide in panic and she closed in Kimiko,
checking her for any wounds.
    "No, no!" Kimiko said, her voice still extremely shaky. "From
down there!" Pointing at her pelvis, sobs shook her small frame.
    'Oh boy!' Amanda thought. Of course, she would have missed this
mother to daughter talk, considering she should have received it when
she was in a coma.
    The door burst open a second time, revealing a half-dressed and
extremely groggy Kiyoshi. He looked ready to fight off an army of
invaders as he looked around. "What?" he asked in obvious confusion.
    "Out, out!" Amanda insisted, getting up and ushering him out.
"This is a woman thing, so go back to bed!"
    "Huh?"
    "It's her time of the month," Amanda explained before closing the
door in his face. If she saw the horror and embarrassment on his
face, she might think *he* was the one with the problem.

    They spent the rest of the night and morning talking about things
that the redhead should expect now that she had hit puberty. The
horror on the girl's face matched that of Kiyoshi's, but hers was of
self-loathing rather than his sympathy.

        *        *        *

    Shaking her head again, Amanda watched the two chase each other
all over the house before she managed to usher them into the backyard
to finish their battle. She put her hands on her hips and glared at
them and she began to upright the fallen furniture.
    "They didn't even finish their lunch."

        *        *        *

    Kimiko had realized how Akane felt when they had spared together.
Kiyoshi managed to dodge or deflect every single attack she could
deal him without much of an effort. A cynical smile formed on her
face as Amanda redirected them into the backyard. Having yet to
become winded, she continued her attack until she fell to the floor
in exhaustion.
    "You have improved much in this last year," Kiyoshi commented,
sitting down a few feet in front of her. He pushed his long black
hair back, something that would have made nearly every girl on this
earth swoon, besides Kimiko and Amanda. "You've easily surpassed your
old ability."
    This caught Kimiko's attention and she looked at him, deciding if
he was lying or not. Something about the way he said it made her
believe him, even if she was trying not to. She smiled meekly at his
comment and replayed their battle in her head, observing how he was
always just slightly, no more than a millimeter, out of her reach
when her attacks should have connected. Other times his block would
be so subtly fast that she didn't have time to adjust her attacks.
    "As I said earlier, I have something important to tell you now
that lunch..." he paused, finding the correct wording. "Ended rather
abruptly," he finished with a grin.
    "So, spit it out, hentai," she taunted, trying to provoke him.
    "Wait, but our lunch comes to us!" he said and she turned to see
Amanda bringing them their unfinished meals.
    "I thought you might like these," the blonde remarked, having
given them their lunches. "One of these days we'll actually finish a
meal together."
    "Not as long as *he* keeps provoking me!" Kimiko exclaimed,
throwing a piece of her bread crust at Kiyoshi.
    "But it's *so* tempting," quipped. "You leave yourself wide
open." He then proceeded to hit her with a handful of grass.
    "I'll show you wide open!" the redhead shot back as she threw the
apple on her plate at his head, bouncing off with a clunk.
    "Hey, I will not subjugate myself to something as childish as a
food fight!" The sandwich that pelted Kimiko's face said otherwise.
    "Hey!" she yelled. "You just said you wouldn't!" She then pulled
a piece of bologna off of her face. "Yuck."
    "I lied," he said with a grin.
    "I'm not making you two any more food for the afternoon," Amanda
giggled, trying hard not to burst out into laughter. "I'll leave so
you can have your fight in peace." She then turned and left before
she was hit with any stray pieces of food.

    After he tired of wasting good food, Kiyoshi decided that he had
better tell her what she needed to now. He sat down in a cross-legged
fashion and she did likewise across from him.
    "Time to be serious," he said, mostly to himself. "Since you have
shown that you have equal, if not more ability in your female body
now than you did before, I believe that it is time to teach you some
new, more difficult techniques." He had her full undivided attention
now.
    "Since your strength has been reduced dramatically from your
original form," he began, "I'm going to teach you a technique that
relies on your chi energy to shove an opponent of nearly any size a
good distance away."
    "What do you mean?" Kimiko asked curiously.
    "This technique *blasts* your opponent off his feet, a good
several feet if you concentrate enough, and with enough motivation
you can probably send them into a wall a good distance away. Would
you like a demonstration?"
    "Amanda will be pissed if my flying corpse breaks anything out
here," she grinned, getting up. "Not too hard!"
    "Don't worry," he said seriously, pushing a hand through his
hair. "I'll catch you before you land." He walked over to her
noticing the obvious tension in her stance. "Loosen up, girl."
    "Don't call me that," she spit. "Oh, and I think I'll take my
chances with the wall rather than your roaming hands." Bracing
herself for his attack, she paid close attention to his movements.
"Well, gonna attack me or what?"
    "I'm sad you think so little of me, Kimchan." Close enough to
dance, Kiyoshi summoned his inner calm and grinned, right before he
struck.


    "Ahh!" Kimiko yelled, blasted violently by his strike. She felt
herself soar through the air and land in his arms. "What in God's
name did you just do?" Nauseous from being knocked around, she tried
to gain a hold of her senses.
    "I showed you a simple, yet very effective technique," he
answered, nearly whispering. "Want me to show you again?" His warm
breath on her was more than enough to make her feel uncomfortable.
    He set her down and she blinked a couple times, trying to regain
her composure. "Nuh-uh, just show me how to do it." She brushed
herself off, making sure that her blue pants did not rip and turned
her attention back to him. "Seems simple enough." Though she had been
paying very close attention, she completely missed the demonstration.
    "I said it was a simple technique, not simple to learn." The smug
grin on his face was all that she needed for motivation. She would
show him how easy it would be for her.

        *        *        *

    Pushing open a large, wooden gate, the young man felt an
uneasiness building in his chest. Nervously gripping his duffel bag,
he glanced at the sign above the entryway and read, "Tendo Training
Hall," in faded, black Kanji. After all these years, he managed to
find the correct estate. He closed his eyes, savoring the moment of
his long-awaited return. Barely able to contain his enthusiasm, he
strode through the gate and into the yard.
    Nearly two decades had passed since he last laid his eyes upon
this welcoming sight, and yet it failed to change. The brick pathway
to the house had been swept recently, for even though autumn leaves
lay across the grass, none touched it. He slowly shut his eyes as a
breeze from the north washed over him, and he smelt it, the sweet air
invigorating him. Never in his life had he so joyously awaited any
other event than that which he took part in now.
    Opening his eyes, he let the tears flow freely down his cheeks.
He did not falter in his trek towards the house, and it never left
his sight, lest he lose it again. A part of him wanted to flee, the
fear of rejection deep in the roots of his mind, but he suppressed
it. He would stand up and face this challenge like a man.
     He neared the door but someone's cry took his concentration from
the task at hand.
    "Ranma!"
    He spun to his right flank and located the source. No more than
fifty feet from him, a beautiful woman with long black hair ran
towards him. Her yellow sundress rippled across her knees, her
yellow, wide-brimmed hat fell from her head, and a rake dropped from
her hand. Unable to move, he watched her close the distance quickly
and leap into his arms. Holding her in a close embrace, his mind
raced through images of her and yet she had never looked so beautiful
as she did now.
    "Oh, Ranma! It is you!" Akane whispered hysterically. "I'm not
dreaming! Oh God, I'm not dreaming!"
    She gently pushed him back, staring into his sapphire blue eyes
and he into her deep brown ones. The moment when they held each
other's stare seemed like a lifetime, and when it ended she closed
her eyes and arched her head forward, kissing him fiercely. All
worries and fear faded from him as they stood in a lover's embrace.
Just as it seemed nothing would break it, something did.
    "Take thy vile hands off my wife, sorcerer."
    Ranma's blood ran cold as the speaker's information stabbed at
him. Petrified with shock, he blankly stared at Akane's pale face,
her eyes pleading in forgiveness. When she pulled out of his grasp,
he could not protest. His stomach sickly turned, the need to wretch
filling him.
    "I have dreaded the return of the demon, and now that thy lowly
presence hath resurfaced, I shall vanquish thee!"
    Ranma's gaze fell upon Tatewaki Kunou, standing on the opposing
side of the brick pathway. The ill-begotten samurai dropped in a low
crouch when Akane cleared away from the pig-tailed boy. In his hands,
he held a beautiful katana, the luster of its steel blade gleaming
bright. Gripping its white lacquered hilt tentatively, he did not
recklessly attack, but rather it seemed that his arrogance from their
earlier battles had evaporated. The man himself still stood at an
impressive height for a Japanese man. His broad, muscular arms
glistened with fresh sweat and upon his brow he had tied a bandanna,
bearing his family name in Kanji. He wore a blue gi shirt and
matching, black hikama, but his feet were bare.
    "I'm so sorry, Ranma," Akane said, tears streaming down her face.
"But when you disappeared, there was no one to take over the
dojo...and father got anxious. Please, just go before you get hurt."
    Before Ranma even had a chance to respond, Tatewaki's charge
forced him to take the evasive.
    "Thy black arts shall aid thee not, foul one," Tatewaki taunted,
his slash meeting nothing but air.
    The samurai's first blow seamlessly flowed into the next, barely
giving Ranma enough time to dodge. The last time Ranma had fought
Kunou had been eighteen years ago, and that gave Kunou an edge. His
skill improved remarkably from their last melee, and his speed
increased at least twofold. His next thrust proved just that when it
sliced a hole straight through the side of Ranma's shirt. When he
pulled his blade back to defend against the counterattacks, Kunou
grinned and Ranma noticed a trickle of blood splattered upon its
bright steel.
    "The first blood is mine," Kunou mocked, raising his sword high,
leaving his upper torso open.
    Realizing the man's tactic as bait, Ranma swept the samurai's
legs and followed to crush him, but Kunou recovered quicker than
humanly possible and countered with an unexpected jab. Twisting out
of the blows trajectory, Ranma caught the incoming arm and used
samurai's momentum to leap and kick the blade from his hand.
Clattering to the ground beside Akane's feet, the katana glimmered.
    "As thou shalt shortly comprehend," Kunou said as he jumped out
of Ranma's attacking range.  "I need not my blade of justice to send
thee back to the hell which forged thee. Feel the vengeance of
heaven, devil!" To prove his point, he advanced attacking Ranma with
a string of kicks and punches.
    Regaining his senses, Ranma avoided the samurai's assault and
vaulted over his opponent, bringing his foot down hard on Kunou's
shoulder, followed by a splintering blow to his knee cap. Just as he
was about to bring the blow to send the samurai sprawling into
unconsciousness, a child's shout stole his attention.
    "Father, catch!" a young teenage boy cried out, sliding the Kunou
family katana towards its patriarch.
    Surprised by the current audience, Ranma's distraction allowed
Tatewaki enough time to recover his blade.
    "No soul hath defeated the Blue Thunder twice in one evening,"
the samurai stated, crouching low across from the pig-tailed martial
artist. His battle aura, non-existent until now, flared brilliantly,
concentrating on his injured knee.
    "Thy blows hurt me not, Saotome," Kunou taunted, lunging forward.
"I am invincible!"
    Ranma tried to retort, but the words failed to leave his mouth.
Instead, he mutely accepted Tatewaki's charge. His opponent lightly
jogged towards him, bringing his sword to bear at Ranma's waist.
    Flashing a grin, Ranma leapt over the slash and twisted his hips
to swing his foot across Kunou's head, but the samurai ducked under
his attack and slammed his body forward into Ranma. Both men fell to
the floor in a pile and Ranma took the initiative by head-butting
Kunou, hard.
    "Gah!"
    Ranma rolled out from under his stunned opponent and bounced to
his feet. Lifting his foot high, he prepared to finish the battle,
but once more his audience tore his attention from the it.
    "No!" a small child screamed at the top of her lungs, attaching
herself to Kunou's prone figure. "Don't hurt my daddy!"
    Stumbling back, Ranma stared at the child in shock, putting two
and two together. He tried to shout or even whisper, but it was as if
the air had been sucked from his lungs. He did not even notice the
steel flashing towards him until it pierced his chest.
    Though his legs gave way, Ranma did not fall. Supported by
Kunou's outstretched blade still protruding from his breast, he
stared at Akane's blurred, grief-stricken figure. As numbness crept
up his body, he noted that the pain was not nearly as great at he was
led to believe. He opened his mouth to tell Akane that he loved her
or just to say anything, but his haggard coughs shook him, and he
spit out the disgusting, salty liquid that had filled his mouth. His
eyes began to glaze over in the empty calm of death when he was
propelled backward.
    His world submerged into a watery grave, but he failed to notice
it, welcoming the serenity that had been offered to him. As death
washed over him in waves of ice, he would have smiled if he could
have. He could not register being desperately pulled out of the pond
nor the glow that enveloped him and his savior. The warmth that
seeped into his body awoke his senses with horrendous pain, shaking
his awareness. Going into convulsions as the unspeakable tore his
body, he began to drift into unconsciousness, but another jolt of
warmth shocked his body.
    His eyes flickered open as he felt a tugging sensation from his
chest. Surging upright, he frantically coughed out sour water from
his lungs. Though his breathing was still labored, the suffering
ended.
    "Life stubbornly refuses to leave a body such as thine," a deep
voice whispered in his ear, soothingly. "And death cannot taketh what
I pronounce mine."
    Warnings sounded in his mind, but there was nothing he could do
for his body would not respond to his frantic pleas.
    "Oh, my pig-tailed goddess," the familiar voice cooed. "I
bestowed the vengeance of heaven upon Ranma Saotome, the dark
sorcerer who kept thee under his spell. He cannot molest thee from
the fiery depths of hell. I shall claim thee, though the demon hath
despoiled thy body. Together, the purity of my divine soul shall
vanquish darkness within thee. Oh, how I love thee, nameless beauty."
    "I'm...Ranma..." she whispered fiercely, bursting into a fit of
coughing.
    "Oh, how that devil's influences still wreaks havoc upon thy
mind! Use thine own vision and behold the glorious sight of his
rotting corpse."
    She felt herself being twisted around, and her eyes peeped open,
spying the scene laid out before her. A man's body floated face down
in the koi pond in the Tendo's yard. She recognized the clothing, her
clothing. She recognized the hairstyle, her hairstyle. She recognized
the corpse, her corpse.
    "No..."
    "Yes, my love. He cannot harm thee any longer. Let us make joyous
celebration."
    Kunou's next action removed all doubt of his intentions. He
cupped her breasts with his hands, gently massaging them between his
fingers. She tried to scream, but she was only able to tremble as he
continued his unwanted advances. His hand slowly slid down to her
waist and raised the bottom of her shirt. He gently pulled her arms
through it, and lifted it over her head, discarding it. Roaming her
back, he pressed himself against her. Her nipples, already hard from
the previous contact, uncomfortably slid against his chest. Forcing
her head back, he kissed her deeply and she felt her will drain, as
if he drank more than her lips, reaching into her vitality.
    Breaking their embrace, Tatewaki rested her gently against the
wet grass. "Just as thy body yearns for mine, I yearn for thine.
Within love, we two shall join."
    "P-please s-s-stop," she pleaded. Unable to withhold the gates of
her tearducts, her eyes streamed in the torment of what was to come.
As he began to remove her trousers, she let out a frantic whimper.
    "Do not worry my love," he spoke softly. "The pains of thy
virginity shall end swiftly."
    Gazing past her rapist's face that now lay pressed to hers, she
stared into the distance. She noticed clouds peacefully hovering
overhead, when he entered her. The many shapes drifting above in the
sky tranquilized her as her conscious thought strayed away from the
violation of her body and soul.
    One large cloud approached their position swiftly and stopped
directly above them. She curiously watched it change shape, forming a
face she had not seen in a long time.
    "P-pop?" she stuttered quietly. "Is that you?"
    "It is I, Ranma," the face in the sky replied with a frown.
    "You h-have to help me!" she begged, her voice no louder than a
squeak.
    "You are no longer my son, Ranma," it told her, the disapproval
in its eyes flashing. "My son lies in the pool of his own arrogance.
My son stopped fighting for himself, and in doing so, died." With
that spoken, the clouds began to shift into a new form.
    "No...don't leave," she whispered as another round of coughs
shook her small frame. "Mom?"
    "I am here, Ranma," the gentle voice replied from the cloud, now
limned with a pure white light.
    "Can you help me?" she asked faintly, the fierce rocking slowly
subduing her consciousness.
    "No, I cannot, love," it said, sorrowfully. "Only you can help
yourself, Ranma. Just remember that I will always love you and accept
you for what you are, my child. Stay strong, dear heart, and don't
forget to bend with the wind."
    "I-I won't," Ranma replied, her voice a little more steady. "I
love you too, mom..."
    The cloud shifted again, this time assuming Akane's face, cloudy
tears sliding down her cheeks, the white illumination having since
disappeared.
    "Akane?"
    "Yes, Ranma," it said with a choked voice. "I am here."
    "I want to go home," she muttered.
    "You still have much to do, my heart," it whispered, staring back
at the pig-tailed girl. "Never give up hope, and never give up the
fight. Don't let yourself go. Break away...break away." With that
said, the cloud once more regained its formless shape and drifted
from view.
    "I will, Akane," she replied, her voice stronger.
    Her mind returned to the pseudo-reality, and with her force of
will restored, she began to tighten her muscles in concentration. The
chi energy surrounded her, filling her and seeping into every pore of
her body. The tingle of power surged through her, and she marvelled
in the ecstasy of it. All she required was a focus, now.
    Her eyes slit open, viewing the pleasure-filled face of Tatewaki
Kunou. She gained her focus.
    "Shi..."
    His motions became furious, jarring her against the chilled grass
wildly.
    "Shi..."
    Unable to see the horrific aura surrounding her, he continued,
nearing climax.
    "Hokodan!"

        *        *        *

    Violently surging forward, Kimiko desperately clutched the
comforter of her bed. As waves of nausea flooded her awareness, she
wiped her tear soaked face with the sleeve of her silken green
pajamas and then placed her hand to her mouth. Fighting the urge to
retch upon her bed, she leaped to the floor and sprinted to the
bathroom.
    After emptying her stomach of its contents and a few dry heaves,
she rinsed her mouth with the chilly tap water. The bitter taste
remained in her mouth, but the memory of her latest nightmare left a
far worse after taste. Every night for the past month, horrifying
dreams terrorized her until she could break free of them. For nine
months, she peacefully slumbered during the night, but then that
changed. The latest addition was definitely her worst yet.
    Pale moonlight illuminated the bathroom from the window, its
shades wide open. Placing her hands on the tub's basin, she gazed
through the large glass pane and remembered her first real
improvement of her fighting abilities when Kiyoshi's surprised her on
the front lawn. Her dream reminded her of the moment Kiyoshi had her
pinned and immobile. At the time, she did not know the identity of
her attacker and had assumed that he would do what Kunou did in her
dream. In both situations she had been defeated and trapped, allowing
her captor to do with her as he wished. If the dream was real or had
the attacker really been a rapist, she wondered how could she have
lived with herself after the fact. The only thing she could do would
be to dedicate herself to the art and allow nothing to steal the
independence she desired to maintain.

        *        *        *

    Sweat beading on her brow, Kimiko glared at the heavy punching
bag in front of her. Her eyes red from exhaustion, she once more, for
nearly the thousandth time today, stabbed her index finger into it. 
    "Yeow!" she yelped, pulling her hand back. Mumbling,
"Kiyoshi-baka and his stupid training," she walked over to the side
of the gym to the drinking fountain, taking a hearty sip. The cool
water refreshed her parched throat.
    She clenched her right fist, wincing from the pain it generated
in her index finger. Her eyes felt like dead weights, slowly pulling
themselves shut as she stood, wavering near the fountain. She slapped
herself across the face, the sting of pain bringing to life her
dulling senses.
    She would learn this stupid technique if it took ten years to
master, and she would not take a day's break during that time. Grim
determination kept her conscious as she slowly walked back towards
the punching bag. Rejuvinated, she continued the exersize.

    "Hiya!" Kimiko cried out, slamming her fist into the punching
bag.
    Frustration had gotten the better of her and she was wasting
precious time and energy, accomplishing nothing. In desperate need to
regain her calm, she sat herself down, cross-legged on the blue floor
mat in preparation to meditate. Though she had never thought that it
had much value for martial arts, it certainly had its time and place.
    A few moments later, she straightened herself and smoothed out
her gi top and pants. Stretching her arms behind her back, the
tension began to leave her aching soldiers. She grinned and
reapproached the punching bag, which swayed as if mocking her futile
attempts to learn this extremely difficult technique.
    "You just watch," she told the bag, squaring herself up in front
of it. "Prepare to be blasted."
    She held her right hand a foot in front of her face,
concentrating on it like she had done so many times before. Taking a
deep breath, she lowered her outstreched hand and cocked her arm
back. She closed her eyes and quickly jammed her finger into the bag,
briefly feeling the contact on her skin.
    "Huh?" she said in confusion, opening her eyes in shock as she
watched the punching bag descend upon her. She did not even have time
to guard her face with her arms as it slammed her a few feet back.
The combination of fatigue and the concussion sent her into the
blackness of unconsciousness.

        *        *        *

    The night sky was lit by soft starlight, but she could not see
it, her eyelids feeling as if they were plastered shut. She breathed
in the cold air slow and ragged, her lungs burning furiously. The
slow momentum of being carried like a rag doll over someone's
shoulder, threatened her barely conscious state. Her whole body
ached, but mostly her hands. She wanted to grab a hold of something
and stop, but her body did not respond.
    Words were being used around her, but she was too out of it to
make any sense of them. She wanted to cry out, but she was denied her
voice. She tried to think of something, anything, but she could think
of nothing but the pain. Her awareness slowly faded into
unconsciousness once more.

    Awake, but unable to move, her senses into life. The tight,
acidic burning sensation in her chest faded, but words still failed
to reach her mouth. Like swallowing a blade of cold steel, she
breathed in the frosty air and her lungs protested, sending her into
a horrid fit of coughing. The trickle of salty, warm blood
overwhelmed the sour taste of putrid liquor.
    Her eyes slid open, but her world was a streaked blur. Dark
colors merged together, forming a senseless void. Streaks of
starlight passed through her sight, and it stung, forcing her eyes
closed again. She tried to make sense of everything, but the constant
motion wrenched her stomach, the need to retch hindering her ability
to think clearly.
    This all seemed so familiar, as if it had happened before, the
utter helplessness of being tossed around so casually, like a piece
of misplaced baggage. The need to cry out in fear and shame burned on
the edge of her tongue, only being able to gasp in pain. The building
dread of the events to come drifted through her head, unable to stop
it. Her sore, unresponsive limbs hung uselessly to her sides, limply
carressing the hard, leather of a jacket.

    The movement stopped and her bottom solidly landed on the hard
ground. There was a noise of someone shifting through something and
then a long pause. The next thing she felt was cold, colder than the
chill of a winter night and colder than the depths of an icy river.
It burned like acid, searing her flesh through her thin clothes and
tearing at her existence, threatening to end it.
    Then it was gone, the pain, the ache in her chest, everything.
Her eyes opened again, gazing over the starlit countryside, but her
mouth still failed to form words.
    Being hoisted onto someone's shoulder once more, a groan escaped
her lips and she desperately tried to talk. Her stomach rocked over a
broad shoulder as the person continued his grueling pace. The man
spoke again, and she recognized it.
    "Ry-Ryo..." she managed to blurt out, but she received no
response but for more pain in her hands and the aching of her body to
return. "Is that you, Ryouga?" Her energy began to fade once more,
and her vision blurred. Tired of the constant motion, she plunged
into unconsciousness again.

    A searing heat awoke her. Her eyes widened in awe as she
witnessed the dark green aura grow around them until it threatened to
consume everything. She tried to warn him, but words failed her
again, until the moment the energy became unbearable.
    "RYOUGA, NO!" her scream uselessly sounded, as the blast knock
her off his shoulders. She reached out in her sudden weightlessness
and grabbed onto a hand, gripping her back.
    "You awake, Ranma?!" Ryouga's frantic voice yelled.
    "Ye-yeah," she stuttered. "P-pull us up, okay Ry-ry-ryouga?" She
held on as tight as her wrist allowed, but the pain in her hands made
it nearly impossible.
    "I can't!" he yelled back. "My grip isn't strong enough! Can you
climb up me?"
    She tried her best to pull herself up and use the lost boy as a
ladder, but her arms gave way and she slumped back. "Nuh-uh, I'm too
weak..."
    "I'm not strong enough to pull you, me and the pack all up."
    What would her fate be now? She turned her head and gazed down
the steep cliff that they hung from, unable to see the bottom. She
doubted even Ryouga could survive the fall.
    "God, please forgive me," she heard him mutter. She felt them
slide down slightly, rocks from the edge of the cliff landing in her
face. "Please forgive me, Akane!" Then the grip released and she
plummeted downward, downward towards her death.
    A shrill shreak left her lips, scaring even herself, but she did
not hit the bottom. Her descent continued for what could have been
hours, minutes, or even seconds. She dared to open her eyes, but all
they met were blackness. An aura of evil loomed around her, radiating
power unmatched of anyone she had ever met before.
    Then a light, bright as the sun, banished the darkness.
    Then she heard words spoken so softly that she could barely hear,
"Though death hath tried to consume thee, death I have frightened
away. Walk once more amongst the living, but first sleep, child.
Sleep and recover, then destroy the evil that threatened thy life so
others may tread free on the realm of Earth without fear."
    Beauty like none other met her eyes, a beauty so lovely it hurt,
but she could not turn away. A figure amongst the brightness held
her, comforting her. She felt the warmth throughout her body and the
serenity of sleep consume her.

        *        *        *

    Waking with a start, Kimiko eyes fluttered open in panic.
    "Oh, thank God you're awake."
    Focusing on the figure that held her, she looked up recognizing
the locks of blonde hair dangling in front of her.
    "How are you feeling, Kimchan?" Amanda asked, deep concern
filling her voice.
    "O-okay, I guess," she replied, sitting up and looking at her
surroundings. Green pastels and the bright light coming through the
window caused her to recognize it as her room. "How'd I get here?"
    "Kiyoshi found you early in the morning, passed out on the floor.
I'll go make you some food if you're hungry."
    Kimiko nodded and slid to the edge of her bed. Remembering the
last moments of her life as Ranma Saotome, a grimace appeared on her
face. She had a new focus now. He would not get away with stealing
her life.

        *        *        *

    "You mustn't try and overdo it like that again, okay?"
    "Hai," Kimiko said dryly to Kiyoshi after hearing his reprimand.
Nothing could stop her from learning this technique now, not pain nor
fatigue.
    "Remember, focus your energy on your outstretched finger and
imagine the energies blasting your opponent."
    Her eyes focused on the bag swaying in front of her. She felt
anger burning through her, but she held it in and imagined it as fire
surrounding her hands. Pulling more and more of that energy, she
yelled, "Bakufuuken!"
    The punching bag blasted backwards smashing against the roof, but
that was not what surprised the redhead. The extreme backlash knocked
her back violently into the wall behind her. Stunned from the blast,
she slumped over onto her knees and stared at her hand, or hands
since she was seeing multiple. Unable to keep herself up, she
collapsed, her face colliding with the floor.
    "Kimiko!" Kiyoshi yelled, running up to her. She felt him scoop
her up in his arms. He told her about the technique as he walked to
one of the cots in the back room of the gym. "You must be very
careful when channeling any negative emotions into the blast fist
technique. Although the results of the blas,t hit the opponent much
further, the backlash that is generated is usually enough to knock
you off your feet too. The blast relies on calm energy, whether
negative or positive, but next time try easing up, or you'll knock
yourself through a wall."
    "Why didn't you tell me that earlier, baka?" she muttered to him
as he placed her on the plastic cot. "That was cool," she said,
starting to giggle. "Oh man, what a kicker!"
    "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Kiyoshi said, not amused in the
slightest. "You're supposed to learn the fine tuning points on your
own, and boy did you learn them the hard way. When you feel better,
try again."
    "Hai, sensei," she said under her breath, but loud enough for him
to hear.

    Standing in front of the punching bag once more, Kimiko began
breathing exercises trying to regain her calm composure. The aura
forming around her was invisible to all, but those trained to see it
and Kiyoshi grinned as she began culminating hers.
    "Think of someone who makes you feel good," he offered.
    "Lilly," she said to herself, inaudible to anyone around her. An
aura of peace began to radiate from her and she focused it upon her
hands. Her eyes opened slowly, looking at the bag dangling in front
of her. "Bakufuuken!"
    A smile graced her lips as the bag flew into the ceiling again,
ripping off its chain and soaring into the wall behind it. The
resulting blast made her slide back a bit, but she had kept her feet
firmly on the floor where she held her stance.
    "Excellent!" Kiyoshi congratulated. "We're going to have to find
something more suitable to practice on," he pointed out, looking at
the fallen bag. "You can try using other body parts, but I recommend
keeping your usage to but one. There is almost no way to keep balance
if you use your feet and anything else is almost a waste of energy.
Why learn it twice?"
    "I gotcha," she told him.
    "Try to find the point in which you can barely keep on your
feet," he said, scratching his chin. "When you're there, that is the
strongest blast you can create without joining your opponent." He
patted her back and began to walk into the changing room when he
turned. "You know, right before you did the maneuver correctly, your
battle aura shined bright white. It was as if the red had been
completely burnt away."
    "What's that mean?" she asked.
    "Beats me," he honestly told her before leaving.
    Looking at her hands, Kimiko wondered at all the different uses
her new technique held. She grinned wryly as she headed into the
locker room.

        *        *        *

    Her shades drawn shut, Kimiko listlessly rested on her bed,
drifting through absolute darkness. Her life had taken so many twists
and turns this past year, and she did not really know what to think
about it all. On one side, her skill had greatly improved training
with the master of the Anything-Goes School of Martial Arts. The
blast fist far exceeded her expectation of how powerful it would be.
Unfortunately, using it restricted her to fight in a calm and
somewhat peaceful state; otherwise, she either would find her attack
severely lacking in power, or she would find herself plastered
against a wall somewhere ten blocks away. Of course, she was
exaggerating, but not by that much.
    On the other side, she felt extremely depressed. Never in her
life did her future look so utterly hopeless. Anytime she thought of
the old life that she had left behind, she felt sick, almost to the
point of vomiting. Trying to avoid anything that reminded her of
Akane, her parents or anything else she lost, was nearly impossible.
Her life felt so empty. Amanda and Kiyoshi did help her overall
outlook of things with their excessively cheerful and over-protective
attitudes, but nothing could fill the void her existence had become.
Even performing a kata, or completing a new technique left her
somehow lacking. Something was missing and she could not pinpoint
what it was exactly, besides the obvious.
    Was it companionship? Kiyoshi provided plenty of that in his own
weird sort of way. His constant teasing almost made her feel at home
here, in remembrance of how Akane and she used to bicker. He
definitely provided for her martial arts skill development, and if
she stayed with him much longer she'd probably increase it even more
dramatically. He almost did feel like a brother that she never did
have.
    Was it a need for a parent figure in her life? Amanda did more
than an adequate job in that area. Her motherly attitude and deep
caring for Kimiko definitely made her feel better at times. When she
looked back at how her father had raised her and compared him to
Amanda, there was simply no comparison. Even from an early age, she
had been expected to act like an adult and be manly at the same time,
even though those areas were in constant conflict. Amanda did no such
thing; rather, she treated her like a younger sister, a very overly
protective and loving one but a sister none-the-less. She had just
enough "Kasumi" in her to make her feel good when she was down and to
raise her spirits just being in her presence.
    Could it be a need for romantic love? Before Akane, Kimiko had
never experienced anything remotely close to love and she did not
think she could ever feel that way about another person again. Even
if she did, how could it be reciprocal? She was definitely not going
to fall in love with a man, and now that she herself was no longer
one, she felt no attraction for women. This was partially the answer,
but not necessarily the center of her void.
    In her deep consideration, she wondered whether she just needed a
friend. Looking back, she wondered if she really ever had a real
friend, besides Sally McArthur. Ukyou had been her first, but it was
obviously a one-way friendship since Ukyou viewed her as a
'boyfriend,' rather than a true to life buddy. She had met various
children in her life that she spent time with, but not one did she
spend enough to be considered more than a close acquaintance. Ryouga
was simply a mistake as a choice in friends.
    Ryouga. The name itself made her mouth run dry and her foul mood
worsen. She might have considered him a friend in junior high school,
but before they could settle a minor difference, she had to leave to
China with her father. He followed. She had no idea how far the
depths of obsession could run before she met Ryouga. By a cruel hand
of fate, Ryouga received his curse and blamed it all on her. She did
feel guilty about it, but she thought that had been put in the past.
Obviously Ryouga did not feel the same.
    Kimiko trusted him when he offered her friendship, and what a
fool she was to accept it. Never in all of her life had she been
betrayed so deeply by someone she considered a friend and trusted to
a certain degree. The lost boy seemed so happy the last time they
were together, he with Akari and she with Akane. How could she have
been so wrong about him?
    The dagger of betrayal removed from her back, Kimiko was now left
with the effects of the poison that the betrayal left behind.
Somehow, Ryouga cursed her permanently. She remembered her dream
vividly and knew it to be more than just a nightmare. She remembered
the piercing cold that burnt like a horrible acid searing through her
skin. What did he do to her? What magic did he employ and could it be
reversed? She would answer those questions upon the completion of her
training.
    Procuring the answers from his quivering hide sounded extremely
good right now.
    The only questions that remained unanswered dealt with the
mysteries of her curse. Since the bath incident and the dream of
Jusenkyo nearly a year ago, and just a few days ago after she finally
correctly employed the blast fist, she had not felt Lillith's
presence. What side-effect of the curse was this? She needed answers
but Kiyoshi's only left her with more questions.
    Resolving to talk to Kiyoshi heartily about this ghost, she
hopped to her feet and exited her room in search of him. 


    A knife blade balanced on his right hand, Kiyoshi was trying
desperately not to fall asleep in an attempt finish a book on
teenager psychology, the epitome of boring material. If this book
offered him anything to help him see his new sister's point of view,
it would be worth it. Somehow, he seriously doubted it.
    Using his left hand to rub his dry eyes, he failed to notice
someone sneaking up behind him.
    "Boo!"
    The knife flipped in his hand to a throwing position and he dived
out of his chair, rolling across his large study far away from the
intruder. His throw was cut short and he dropped the knife to the
floor, a cynical look on his face.
    "Guess you didn't expect me," Kimiko said dryly.
    "You're getting too silent for your own good," he replied,
standing. "Bet your glad I didn't throw this knife at you?"
    "I would've just caught it."
    He straightened his hair, walking back over to his desk to face
the girl. Sliding the book across the desk he sat in its place, he
pushed the chair he had been sitting in over to her. After she sat,
he asked, "What's up?"
    Finally stifling her mirth, her expression shifted.  "Tell me
about the Jusenkyo curses again," she commanded.
    "I already told you as much as I can," he reminded her, wondering
what brought about this soon to be line of questioning. Usually she
avoided talking about anything to do with Jusenkyo, or anything in
her past for that matter.
    "Come on," she said, irritated. "I know you know more than you're
telling me." A shiver went down his spine when she icily glared at
him.
    "Jeez, okay, what do you want to know?" he asked, taken aback.
    She broke off her stare, glancing around the room meaningfully.
"Do you have a spirit too?" she doubtfully asked, an edge of
hostility still resonating in her voice.
    "Have a spirit?" he asked, knowing what she meant. He wanted her
to work for her answers for many reasons that could be related to
training. Mainly he just liked making things as difficult as possible
so she would use her wit. "Of course I have a spirit, silly. What
kind of question is that?"
    "No, no! That's not what I meant!"
    "What did you mean then?" he said, a smile forming on his face.
This could be fun, he figured.
    "Is there a drowned young man haunting you or something?"
    Was that the best she could do? "I'm not being *haunted* by
anything, Kimiko," he replied smartly. "You might want to rephrase
that."
    The little growl he heard nearly caused him to laugh, but the
evil stare that followed did cause him to chuckle quietly. His smirk
faded when she stood up and walked over to him, lifting him up by the
collar of his shirt.
    "I'm talkin' about Jusenkyo and all the weird shit that's going
on!" Her angry tones, combined by the fact that she was in a good
position to smash his manhood with one punch, caused him to change
his attitude about divulging the information.
    "Lord, Kimchan!" he exclaimed, trying to keep her grip from
cutting off his circulation. "You're seriously spooked, aren't you?"
    "What do you think, asshole?!"
    To scare her this badly, something terrible must have happened.
He was tempted to ask her about it, but decided to answer her
question.
    "Okay, love. Just sit back and I'll tell you what I know."
    "Be careful, Kiyoshi," a quiet voice whispered inside his head.
"Try not to tell her anything that would make her emotional state
even more unstable." He made a mental note of it, focusing on what he
should tell her.
    She released her grip and gracefully sat back in the chair he had
provided earlier, resting her head back against the leather headrest.
    "After I tell you what I know, will you tell me what has been
happening to you?" After she nodded in agreement, he began. "First of
all, let me tell you that you are in no danger, physically nor
mentally, from anything that resulted from your second exposure to
Nyanniichuan's waters. Second of all, the only harm that you will
experience from the curse is purely your own emotional reactions to
the magic-like quality that it holds, so please try and relax
yourself."
    "That's good to know," she hissed.
    "You also need to know the spirit manifestation that you have
encountered has nothing but good intentions and is very interested in
your physical and emotional well-being. It has the ability to appear
before you as a reflection of what it looked like prior to the time
of death, and trust me when I say that it can only be seen by your
eyes.
    "It does have the ability to partially influence your behavior,
but I'm positive that it will only do so when you allow it. On the
other hand, it has the ability to do things to your physical body,
allowing you to feel sensations, certain emotions, or even heal
quicker."


    "Can it change my appearance at all?" Kimiko decided to ask,
already knowing the answer.
    "Only if your body becomes damaged can it do anything in that
department. I assume you are referring to your younger appearance?"
She nodded to his assumption; he hit it right on the dot. "I believe
that after you were released from your aquatransexual curse and left
in your female body, you suffered from some severe injuries that
required the spiritual manifestation to heal you, enabling your
survival. In doing so, it effectively made you appear exceptionally
younger. That is just a hypothesis, of course, but it doesn't
conflict with any of the evidence that we have...that is unless you
remember something?"
    Only catching half the meaning of what he told her, she shook her
head solemnly. "Why do I still look like a teenager? I was in that
coma for seventeen years, ne?"
    "That is another thing I forgot to mention," he said, pushing his
hands through his raven hair once before continuing. "The spirit can
also slow or stop your aging according to its will. In essence, it
has near complete control of your physical appearance since it is the
gift you received from Jusenkyo. I am unsure if it can speed your
aging, though."
    "You call this a gift?!" she shouted, her anger rising again.
"Stuck as a girl - a gift? I seriously hope you're joking." She
glared at him, daring him to voice his opposition.
    He took in a deep breath and sighed, his head drooping, causing
his long black bangs to fall in his face. He looked up again,
catching her intense glare. "You should be thankful that you're
alive."
    "Thankful that I'm alive?" she said, her nerve shattered. "I
almost wish I had died!" Normally, she reacted by crying or lashing
out violently, but her tears had run dry and there just did not seem
to be much point in attacking him, at the moment.
    "I'm sorry you feel that way," was his only response.
    They stared at each other for a long time in utter silence,
neither daring to break it. Everything she had gone through in the
past year weighted her down, and it felt heavier than anything she
had experience before. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore and this
whole situation definitely did not help things.
    Kiyoshi finally broke silence. "Please tell me what is wrong with
being a woman."
    Baffled at his request, she only turned her head indignantly,
crossing her arms under above her breasts. What was not wrong about
being a woman, she figured, would be a better question. Though she
accepted her condition for the time being, she did not have to like
it.
    "You wanna know what's wrong with'em? Well, for starters, I'm
supposed to be a man! I was born and raised one! Whenever I was bad
or acted like a weakling, my pop would say I was behaving like a
spoiled little girl or something. Men are supposed to be tough!
They're not supposed to cry or do anything stupid like that. That's
what I want to be like, damn it!"
    Catching her breath she continued, "Another thing:  I hate these
damn breasts! They're too sensitive! If I take a punch there as a
man, it doesn't do anything to me. Right now if you landed a solid
blow, I'd probably fall in pain! I'm weaker, shorter, and just an all
around worse fighter."
    With Kimiko's deliberation finished, Kiyoshi put his hand
underneath his chin in consideration. "Firstly, you can act however
you wish, as long as you do so maturely. If you don't want to cry,
don't cry. If you want to act like a 'man,' act like one. Though I
have to stress the fact that half of the ideals you were given about
men are completely and utterly wrong. A woman can mirror the exact
same ideals that you were raised to possess. Think about the Amazons
and how 'manly' they act. They are more masculine by Japanese
standards, yet they call themselves women proudly.
    "Regarding your anatomy, that is the one thing you cannot help.
Your breasts are now weaker and larger, but a female, when struck in
the groin, will definitely not be stunned with pain as a man would,
nor would she do so if a breast was struck. In regards to your
strength and height, if you think that is an issue, it is certainly
overbalanced by your massive increase in speed and flexibility. In my
humble opinion, your reflexes and skill are much improved from when
you were in Nerima."
    She did not know what to say in response.
    "If not a gift, Kimchan, it is most certainly a second chance at
life. Please do not give up on life yet."
    She wanted to tell him he was wrong. She wanted to tell him that
he was stupid and knew nothing. She wanted to do many things, but she
knew she was wrong. That did not mean she had to enjoy being a girl
though.
    "Please, give it time," he said, rising. He walked over to her
and rested his hand on her shoulder. "You will always be you, no
matter what name you have or what body you occupy. You will always be
the little redhead that I first met in the streets of Nerima, and the
same pigtailed boy that I tried to teach a lesson to nearly a hundred
times. And now, you will always be the little sister I wished for
when I was a child. Please, just give it time."
    "That's easy for you to say," she said in a quiet, yet steady
tone. "What do you think I've been doing for the last year? Sulking?"
Not waiting for a response, she continued. "You're trying to say
'It's okay to be a girl,' but it isn't! Being male is and has been my
identity. I've been struggling to hold onto that piece of myself, but
no one is making it any easier. If I give in now, everything I have
ever believed in and fought for will be for nothing."
    Her teeth began chattering, barely keeping back a torrent of
emotions. "What am I going to do, even if I do get back? A-Akane and
everyone else thinks I'm dead. I doubt she'll give up the last
eighteen years of her life...to be with me - a teenage girl. How can
I hope to have a normal life now? *You* may have gained everything
from your transformation, but I lost everything I held dear!"
    Kiyoshi tried to interupt, but Kimiko continued more vehemently.
"Until I change back, *if* I can change back, I can never be a
husband to Akane - or anyone else. I'll never be able to be a
father." With her eyes cast on the floor, she clenched her fists
tightly. "Don't even mention me being a wife, mother or le-lesbian."
    "You can yap on about acting like a man if I want to, but what
good will it do me? No one will treat me like anything but a little
girl, and it won't be helped by the fact that I have a little girl's
body! With my luck, I'll look like *this* for the rest of my God
forsaken life!"


    Kiyoshi could only stare back, ashamed of himself. Though he knew
that she had been depressed for a good while now, his perception of
the problem was completely off base. He had taken a poor approach to
helping her, and there was nothing he could say make things easier.
He knew there was next to no chance of recovering her male form,
which had simply been deleted from existence. There were many ways to
counter Jusenkyo curses, whether one-time or permanently, but to be
cured, one had to be cursed in the first place. The result of
Jusenkyo's was to change physical form with a splash of water,
whether it be cold or hot. She indeed may have been cursed
originally, but technically, second prolonged exposure to Jusenkyo
water *cured* her from the transformation.
    She continued, "I know that I can't change back now, and you said
that Jusenkyo no longer works, but there has to be another way. It is
magic, ne? There's always a way to undo magical effects!" She yawned,
having spoken for the past few minutes. "Bet you didn't think of the
Kaisuifuu, since its been buried for so long. Even if that doesn't
work, there just *has* to be a cure."
    An uncomfortable silence loomed over them, neither knowing what
else to say. Kiyoshi could try to explain to her his knowledge of how
Jusenkyo worked, but maybe a little direction was what she needed in
her life. He could either prove that her condition was permanent, or
actually find a way to change her back to a male. Besides, he needed
a vacation himself. A trip to China, certainly, could only be
beneficial for both of them.
    "Would you like to go to Jusenkyo and a few other locations in
China?" he asked of her, breaking the silence. "We could talk to
people who are near experts concerning different magiks. I'm quite
familiar with the different regions myself."
    "Yeah," she replied vehemently. "When can we leave?"
    "I'll have to check my plans for this week," he told her, lifting
the knife from where he had absently dropped it earlier. "But, most
likely by the weekend." When she began to leave, he leaned forward
and caught her wrist. "Wait."
    "Huh?" she asked, turning to him.
    "I swear upon my blood," he began, placing the blade of the knife
in his right hand. "I will do everything within my power to aid you
in your quest to regain your male form." Gripping the blade tightly,
he closed his eyes and quickly yanked it out. The blood on the steel
glistened on its sharp edge.
    "Here," Kimiko prompted, taking the knife from Kiyoshi's left
hand. "I accept your pledge, brother." With a yelp, she repeated his
action, drawing the blade against her right hand. Her right arm
outstretched, she looked at him with her crystalline blue eyes.
    Smiling, he clasped her injured hand in his, the cuts along their
palms pressing together. Shaking once, they gripped each other
tightly, sealing the contract between student and teacher, brother
and sister. They stood, each seeing through the other's mask. They
stood, both equals and pawns in a game that far exceeded a quest for
revenge and self-discovery. And still, they stood for the briefest of
moments, yet an eternity of its own.