Dawn rose briskly over the wall of the Kuno mansion, bringing with it a fresh breeze that stirred the scattered leaves, fallen from the Cherry blossom tree, across the carefully manicured rock garden, dropping no small number into the pool where Mr Green turtle rested.

On a rock, his face towards that rising sun, sat a young man clothed in a simple white linen yukata, his red hair unbound and his face serene as he let the steady radiance of the risen sun fall across him and drive away the chill of the night air.

On his lap rested the bared steel of one of those two swords he had worn the day before, the hilt removed along with the tsuba and the blade laid on it's own silken sheet. Before the sun had crested that wall he had been very carefully, even reverentially cleaning that blade, rubbing a very fine cloth over the surface and then a carefully selected honing stone before returning to another cloth and then another stone.

He breathed a prayer to the goddess of that risen dawn, Amaratsu, the patron deity of the nation and guardian of it's honour, the words silent but unmistakably both familiar and reverent, words from an age where such actually meant something more than lip service.

Then he returned to his task, easy, unhurried, graceful movements speaking of grace and long practice, of care and purpose. Had there been anyone there to witness they might well have sworn that this time and practice honed ritual was every bit as much as prayer as that he had breathed to the sun.

They might not have been far wrong.

When the first was finished he moved on to the second, his wakisaki, to begin the process afresh. Nor was this done with any less precision than the first. For, although the Katana was the fighting sword, the honour of any samurai, the shorter blade was the soul.

Only a samurai could ever carry one, and only they use it for that ultimate expression of bushido that was seppuku, ritual painful suicide

Not for the first time did the man now holding his contemplate whether he had been remiss in not performing that lethal ritual rather than submit to his current circumstance. Only the dying wish of a man he had once loved as a brother had stayed his hand.

"But what would you say now onii-dono" Ranma whispered to himself, his first smile of the day coming as he mangled the deliberately honorific into the familiar. His 'elder brother' had hated that almost as much as he hated to be deferred to in private.

By now the sun was blazing off of the roof of the family shrine across the pond from him and for a moment Ranma was able to remember the splendour of the edifice that it was the stand in for, that this whole garden had been designed to reflect. He could even remember the first time he had…

Somewhere a gong sounded, a loyal servant letting their noble house know that breakfast was served once more, summoning them to the next ritual of the day, and Ranma's first challenge, keeping a civil tongue while the scions of the house planned their days.

Meanwhile, across the ward, the Tendo-ke was also waking, well most of them. Unlike the Kuno household some of the actual family had already risen before the dawn to prepare the meal and now only those that had not were stumbling from their beds to the morning summons.

First Soun and then Akane stumbled down the stairs to the family room, taking their places at the traditionally low table as they had done every morning they had been in the house for as far back as the girls could remember, the familiar scene normally no less traditional than the sliding paper walls and the tatami mats.

It took Akane a few moments to work out what was wrong with the picture that greeted her as she sat, and even longer to work out some of the reasons why. First there was the fact that there was less of the meal than usual spread out in front of her and second there was the fact that the portion actually being dished to her was even less than that.

It was only as she looked up and met the frowning regard of her very disappointed sisters that she began to remember not heeding the order of the same not to do the clearing up last night, and subsequently breaking one of the cups that Kasumi had admitted to liking.

She opened her mouth to tell the two of them how it wasn't her fault, how the stupid cup had just leapt off the stack she had made on the sideboard, but the glares only became worse and for once she decided to keep her quiet.

It was a good call, all things considered, even the ensuing waterfall that arguing daughters would have produced from her father wouldn't have saved Akane from some very pointed words had she so dared, Nabiki had already worked out an allowance deduction scheme that would allow Akane to replace said cups rapidly but had been more prepared to up the schedule, and the interest, had she dared to demur.

In both households the meal was over only too slowly for at least one of the participants, and the rush towards the next stage was accomplished with a haste that was far from entirely necessary, or any more welcome.

In the Kuno household this involved a short trip to the chauffeured cars that awaited the scions' school run, in the Tendo-ke it involved the more simple replacing of shoes and gathering of schoolbags, but soon both the houses in question were being left and the players were headed for the next scene of the morning drama.

The wind continued to gently stir the trees in the yard of Furinikan's school, the sun shine down on the pupils as they wended their way past one another to meet friends and colleagues, consciously or unconsciously holding onto these last moments of freedom before the morning bell sounded.

Nabiki, ensconced once more in 'her' window halfway up the school block, was noticed to be oddly distracted by her crew as they set morning odds, even actually shortening the chance that Kuno would 'get a clue' and start pursuing Akane like a 'boy who had two brain cells to rub together'. Most of all though she could be spotted looking to a place other than where the morning fight was due to happen, towards a certain tree…

"You think she's got the hots for Kuno?" Yuka was asked by one of the 'blonder' members of the crew, "I mean she did go for icecream with…"

"Never" Yuka interrupted sternly, "Never ever say that again" she swore, casting a nervous glance to where Nabiki was once more distractedly looking towards Kuno's tree, and shivering a little at the mere thought of what Nabiki might do to a rookie who dared to vocalise such thoughts.

"The boss does not have a social life" Yuka corrected, "she does not date for anything other than professional reasons and she certainly does not engage in any foolishness like 'getting the hots'" Yuka's words were adamant, maybe even fervent, and based on years of working for the most professionally inclined school kid that she knew.

They might have had more effect if her sempai hadn't chosen that moment to sigh wistfully.

The blond looked smug, Yuka looked stricken and Nabiki slowly turned back to the crew before asking, "Where's Hitomi?"

She really should have guessed.

"Good morning Satomoe-sama" Hitomi offered, with a bow. This morning her hair was done up high, pinned with no less than five wooden 'chopsticks' and still only nearly was well presented as the rest of her.

She had spent the entire night with her sewing machine and the entire morning with her make-up kit, deliberately trying to recreate exactly what she had seen on that recent Hollywood blockbuster. To her mind, barring the colour of her so modified uniform, she now looked almost the spitting image of a modern geisha, complete to the clumpy clogs.

Ranma was first taken by surprise and then horrified, only yesterday he had defended this girl from accusations…"Hitomi-san" he stuttered.

"You approve Saotmoe-sama?" she asked, demurely lowering her gaze as she had seen in the film, and thus completely missing the look that broke through Ranma's traditional samurai mask.

It was utterly true that historically geisha were anything but the whores that western media so revelled in making them out to be, but there was little doubt that many of the poorer ones occasionally crossed lines that they claimed not to, for pecuniary imperatives if nothing else.

The dull grey of Hitomi's pseudo-dress and the blatant display of lacking garments beneath made Ranma doubt that poor Hitomi could be anything but what the girl yesterday had accused her of. When she had just been dressed as the others were around them he had been able to think that the mode of dress was just something that all girls of this time had to bear, but dressed like this…

He cast a look towards his liege, wondering what on Ameratsu's green land had compelled the scion of the house to allow such a woman to address him in public the day before, thus leading Ranma to the conclusion…

"Saotome-sama?" Hitomi asked again, beginning to get the very first hints that she had done something wrong.

But by then the main protagonist of the morning drama had arrived, the first sounds of mayhem had erupted and there were more pressing matters for all of them to deal with.

Hitomi only very briefly considered disobeying the Ice-queen and continuing to press her suit, but the automatic shiver that ran down her spine at the mere thought was enough to remind her that there were very good reasons why Nabiki's crew didn't let her down. She reluctantly turned to watch the fight for exploitable instances.

Meanwhile Ranma was continuing to look at his lord, his so expressive eyes a swirl with the new information, with surprise and disbelief at the way Tatewaki apparently comported himself and the first wakening of shame for both their behalves.

His question from the morning came back to mind in the thunder of the True Blunder's announcement and Ranma had to hang his head, there was little doubt how his older brother would react now, what that truly honourable man would say about a scion of the house being so very indiscrete, dragging such an honoured name through such mud.

His head stayed hung low as his liege lord allowed the girl he chased to publicly humiliate him once more, this time with the help of a fist and a sturdy enough wall, then he walked briskly forward to reclaim him, his own face a very stern mask, a picture of the impassive samurai model that he wore the uniform of, only the hard set of his shoulders and the deep pain in his eyes revealing that something further was amiss.

Nabiki was of course already on her way to the same spot, if for somewhat more complex reasons than she had been the day before, and, perspicacious as she was, she instantly realised that something was up. "Ranma-san?" she asked, guessing that the formality might be in order, while squashing a secret hurt that he hadn't smiled to see her.

He stopped, temporarily ignoring his crumpled daimyo, and instead bowing towards the young girl who addressed him. Very formally, even for him, he asked, "Might I have a word with you Tedno-san, when convenient"

She replied by raising a curious eyebrow, wondering what the hell had happened to him between last night and now, where the laughing, joking friend had gone. But she was with it enough to respond to the bow and offer an instant agreement, putting aside all such worries in time to prevent worse happening now.

"Thank you Tendo-san" he replied, this time letting a little of his emotions show through in his voice.

Having heard that she immediately decided that pressing him now was not going to work, and instead simply stepped back to give him room to lift Tatewaki up and then led the pair of them into the building towards the oft-frequented nurses rooms.

It wasn't that much later that Nabiki was sat at her desk in her own homeroom, steadily becoming more late for her breaktime meetings, and glaring icily at the so very oddly dressed and clearly distressed Hitome.

"So?" she asked, her tone as cold as a snowman's private parts.

"Boss?" Hitome replied, the quaver in her voice more than revealing she knew, and dreaded, exactly what this was.

"Do you want me to have to ask twice?" Nabiki argued, not needing to add a threat.

"I" Hitmoi began, after a significant swallow, "thought he would like it" she said, her lip beginning to wobble as her eyes began to shine with the start of unshed tears. After Ranma had turned away this morning he had barely looked at her, and when she had made that impossible and deliberately interposed herself into his view, he had actually looked genuinely embarrassed, for both of them.

It was more than she could take, and her boss's interrogation was coming close to breaking the last shred of her reserve.

"You look somewhere between a geisha and a groupie" Nabiki stated, recognising that Hitomi wasn't going to manage to get the details out on her own.

Hitomi nodded and sniffed.

"You do know that tea house clients did not choose to display their relationships in public?" Nabiki queried, beginning to guess some of what might have gone wrong, and perhaps beginning to get a hint of what might have been wrong with Ranma. "It was a significant loss of face to…"

Hitomi just wailed and gave up holding back the tears, casting a pleading glance towards the door.

Nabiki paused and then nodded, the next moment Hitomi was clunking away as fast as her tightly restrained stride and platform shoes could manage. A little part of Nabiki told her that she should have felt sorrier for the girl, but another part of her was saying far less kind things, from a rather more possessive viewpoint.

A moment later Yuka was looking through the door, seeking some instruction or explanation.

"Business as usual" Nabiki replied, rising from her desk to go and meet the crew by the door, "Factor in some rebound chance on Hitomi" she added as she arrived, "and make sure she gets that bonus early in case she decides she needs a new uniform" she added, far from entirely without sympathy.

Yuka nodded, genuinely relieved to see her sempai back on form.

"Shake down Miho-chan for it" Nabiki added, naming a girl who was going to some extreme, and rather dishonest, lengths to reclaim her 'man' from the hentai horde.

Sympathy only went so far after all…

After that things went much as expected, the normal parade of young, desperate marks cueing up for the opportunity to hand over their savings to Tendo-corp. If anything there were a few more of such people today and, to Nabiki's quiet regret, she found the whole break quickly consumed by such standard business.

Any hopes of settling the morning mystery request at lunchtime instead were however rather severely dashed when, just as the bell was ringing, the screams started. Nabiki, ever on the lookout for the advantage in even wails of terror, was soon to the nearest window, but even she was in no way prepared for what she was seeing.

There, in between the buckled remains of the school's iron wrought gates, was an oni. An honest to hell demon-man, complete with hairy red skin horns, snout, tusks and wild unkempt hair. The creature was tall, and immensely muscled, was wearing nothing but filth and the rags of some other, old fashioned, outfit, and carrying a kanabo, hefty metal ended, tined club. The only thing preserving it's modesty was some version of a tiger print loin cloth, and then that was torn in far too many places for the often ignored conservative part of Nabiki's sensibilities.

It was also doing it's very best to tear the place to pieces, the screaming being caused by the first few pupils leaving the building to be assailed by the flying rubble that had been one of the school gateposts.

As the other kids were backing away in wide eyed terror Nabiki was opening the window to see if the roaring that the glazing was muffling might make more sense with less in the way, she was soon disappointed, whatever the thing's beef was it clearly wasn't articulate enough to spell it out.

Her disappointment was however short lived as the self appointed heroes of the school began to appear and the very real chance of some decent wagering began to form. "Seven to two on Kuno and half that on my sister" she began, stunning Yuka back into surprised sensibility.

"What?" Nabiki asked, "You act like this sort of thing has never happened before" she said.

"Boss?"

"Okay, so it hasn't happened much" Nabiki admitted, "but are you saying that your father's never used the demon head technique when you didn't….

"Okay…" Nabiki admitted again, remembering that not quite everybody's parent was quite as adept at that particular form, "Just get it started!" she finished, before turning back to the scene and whipping out some binoculars from somewhere to get a better view, demonstrating that, for all her bravado, she was actually quite concerned for at least one of the combatants.

Meanwhile Kuno had begun his announcements, promising to "Banish the vile Oni that had come to desecrate the sacred halls of learning, to drive it back whence it came…" and so on. Beside him his hatamoto was clearly both chafing under some order to hold back, and dismayed at the cause of the delay.

Meanwhile Akane had taken one look at that tattered loincloth, had connected it with the all too obvious symbology of the oversized club and decided that there was no way this thing wasn't a pervert.

Akane charged, her 'centering shout' familiar to any who had been privy to the morning mayhem of the hentai horde.

It was only as she got closer still that Nabik and indeed the giortl in question actually began to realise that this might be more than the run of the mill, because the damn thing wasn't showing a hint of fear, and was, if anything, becoming only more enraged. It was also about that point that people began to realise just how big the man-creature was.

Akane's charge faltered even as the thing swung that club, itself at least as big as the girl who had been charging. Akane, much to Nabiki's relief, managed to doge, although for the life of her Nabiki couldn't see how, and the club impacted instead on the ground a few feet to her left, throwing up a cloud of blasted turf and exploded earth.

"Oh hell" Nabiki whispered, for once forgetting completely about the odds and just concentrating on the plight of hr sister, the club was already sweeping back for another go.

Which is when the 'Blue Thunder' made his move (later causing some people to perhaps wonder if the posturing hadn't been one of the smarter more tactical things he had done that day). With a cry of "Fierce Tiger, Your hero comes, I strike!" he charged the beast with bokken outreached.

Nabiki had sent that bokken slice hardwood, she had received reports that Kuno's skill with it might actually live up to his boasts and she had certainly seen nobody come close to wielding anything like it with Tatewaki's skill.

Even so she was hardly surprised to see that the self appointed hero didn't even get close.

Forced to parry the sweeping of that kanabo club even the kendoist's warped version of reality was forced to accept one law of physics; there was no way he had anything like the mass to stop the swing, even with a countering swing of his own.

The beautiful, textbook parry made a sound like the clashing of thunder and a boom like the explosion of a lightning struck tree, then the bokken exploded and Kuno was thrown bodily away, sailing over the turf of the field to land in a rut all of his own making, his limbs an unruly, painful looking tangle.

Immediately Nabiki's now genuinely afeared gaze switched back to the oni, and the plight of her sister who was now fearfully trying to scrabble away, finally having realised what the other cynics of the school were also twigging, that this tusk-faced Oni was not playing by the normal rules, and there was every damn chance that the next blow was going to be fatal. Nabiki's hands were clenched white on the sill, her habitually icy mask a genuinely worried wince as she failed to come up with any plans that might help.

With an inhuman roar it lifted it's club again, holding it in two clawed hands to make very sure of it's strike this time, rage roiling off from it in a way that even Akane had never managed, dire light spilling from it's glowing eyes as they focused on the scrabbling girl before it

Then a voice cut in, instantly recognisable, clear, solid and unafraid, "Here I stand" it announced, "Saotome Ranma, Hatamoto of the clan Kuno, samurai and swordsman without peer!"

He was stood where he had been commanded to stay, the light breeze plucking at his traditional clothing and his hands loosely hanging at his sides. From her vantage Nabiki couldn't see his face but she didn't need to, she had heard the resolve in his tone.

"You will not kill her" Ranma declared, against all apparent facts.

But for the moment he was apparently right, because the moment he had spoken the creature seemed to have forgotten all about Akane, dismissing her as utterly irrelevant as it focused all of it's malevolence onto the new speaker who dared not to run and hide as every other had.

It roared again, a wordless roar as corded red muscles all along it's legs bunched and it's hell born hate became action. It charged, each thunderous pounding footfall faster than the one before, clawed hooves tearing up the turf as it ran and already swinging that club.

Ranma stood still, motionless, the calm center of the storm, unmoving and apparently unafraid even as the things shadow washed over him and it began to loom above.

Then he acted, so fast that Nabiki barely registered the move, drawing his Katana from it's obi-bound sheath in an instantaneous, graceful, fluid motion that would have made any iado master weep in envy and anyone in their right mind get the damn hell out of his way. He didn't make the same mistake as Kuno and parry the club head on, instead his blade came down on the back of the descending club, while simultaneously his body weaved around it, flowing like smoke and leaping from the ground like some ascending comet.

Somehow he used the leverage that his strike provided to completely redirect his jump and was flying straight into the face of the boar-faced demon, his sword with him, sweeping back for another strike.

The beast's charge brooked no slowing, it's confusion at the lack of strawberry jam on the end of it's club no less than it's confusion at seeing the would be subject suddenly appear in front of it's face. But apparently it was somewhat less surprised at this than the onlookers, and had an answer they did not expect it to manage. The beast ducked it's chin, levelling it's horns instead of it's face towards the bounding swordsman.

Ranma pulled the sword strike, rolled again in the air and planted a waraji sandal onto the beast's head instead of a blade, landing it between the horns with enough force to make the beast's skull ring like a bell, before tumbling up and away again, grace and poetry in aerial motion, flowing around it's hell spawned body as others might the clumsy stumbles of a drunk.

Rnama landed easily, gently behind the beast; the beast planted itself face first into the tree suddenly revealed in front of it, shattering bark and supplying another loud meaty, painful noise.

Unfazed bar some fresh blood adorning the impact site, spitting splinters and still very angry indeed the beast turned, hefting it's club again, evidently only more determined to do harm. A moment later it charged again.

This time Ranma rushed too, his sandal clad feet tearing up the ground every bit as much as the demon's had as he fought for the speed he needed, his now visible eyes set in implacable focus upon the similarly charging oni, his sword trailing behind him, his body seeming to be challenging the air to keep up.

They both leapt at the same time, both swung their lethal tools and both turned in the air; the unmistakable sound of metal striking flesh ringing clearly across the yard.

The beast landed, knee down and chin ducked, and behind it so did Ranma, their backs to one another their weapons still extended, the moment stretching and stretching while all others held their breaths. Then slowly the other details became clear, the dark stain on the samurai's sword, the agonised tension in the increasingly shuddering beast's frame.

It's club-carrying right arm peeled away at the elbow, falling to the torn up ground with a thud, a monsterous gout of black blood erupting behind it and scotching the grass where it splattered.

For a moment Nabiki and the others dared to think that might be it, prepared to cheer, then the saw Ranma spin and heard the beast roar again, not in pain but in rage. From it's shoulder the ichor continued to flow, but it was clearly far from finished.

It turned, sweeping out a leg kick; Ranma ducked and cut again.

It punched and tired to rake; Saotome's Katana flashed in the noon-day sun.

It roared and dived, vicious maw and sweeping grapple wide; Ranma stabbed.

The tableau froze there, Ranma holding the hilt of his sword extended firmly with both hands as it ran clear through the black-seeping chest of the once raging beast, it's face bare inches from his, it's anger suddenly terribly still.

The strangest thing was that for a moment the rage in those bestial eyes seemed to dim, the fire die away and the hate become something more human. The moment passed and the creature was drawing breath to rage again, to renew the fight.

Ranma twisted the blade and swept it out wide and then in again in a shining arc; the oni's head flew from it's shoulders, accompanined by another fresh gout of oily-black vital fliud and a wet, tearing noise.

Ranma stepped away and flicked his blade clean, wiping it on a discarded jacket before sheathing it and turning on a heel and walking away, back towards his master. Behind him the monster began to dissolve into tar-black goo.

Within half an hour Kuno was boasting of His defeat of the demon, regaling all with his tale of heroism, skill and selfless courage (from his bed in the infirmary). Akane had meanwhile fled back home and Nabiki was left trying to convince collectors she had a real Oni head for sale. With the resilience of only a Neriman school life was returning to normal.

Even as she made the calls though Nabiki knew there was more still to this, something genuinely out of the ordinary, and became only more determined to discover what exactly that might be, she even knew exactly where to start…

oooooo

The end of the school day came, the Kuno car arrived for it's noble son and Nabiki was already waiting by the torn up gate, her own mask in place as she forced herself to play this one carefully, unwilling to wait any longer than necessary for her answers.

"Do we have business this day?" Tatewaki enquired as he and his shadow approached, "I thought it concluded a day heretofore"

"Unless of course you wish to express your gratitude for my noble salvation of thine sister?" Kuno guessed, "Of course that would be-" Kuno began, warming up for another act of delusion centring no doubt around his own single handed defeat of the marauding monster.

"Not today Kuno-baby" Nabiki offered, catching the double twitch from the accompanying 'hatamoto' behind the nutter 'lord' "I mean my Lord" Nabiki corrected, much to the smugness of Kuno and the apparent relief of his man, another small fact to file away for later thought.

"I just wanted to borrow him" she said, pointing to Ranma as nonchalantly as she could manage.

"Him? Again?" Kuno asked, looking genuinely puzzled as to why one might bother. "Very well" he supplied with a dismissive wave "It seems a fitting punishment for a servant who does not remain where told"

Nabiki's eyebrow rose and Ranma's head fell. "You're giving him grief for saving my sister's life?" she asked, completely ignoring Kuno's insistence that spending time with her was some form of punishment, well at least until tally-up time.

"Humph" Kuno replied, turning his nose up but for once actually avoiding contradicting the truth of the matter.

"After all surely it was according to your example he-" Nabiki continued

"Of course it was" Kuno agreed, "my brilliance shined forth and how could he not…"

While he was still waxing lyrical Nabiki stole Ranma's arm and dragged him away, shopwards for the long over due chat.

Because Ranma had chosen the last place they had gone too for this meeting Nabiki had decided to share one of her own favourite places, rather unsurprisingly another ice cream parlour where they served frozen diabetic death with the kinds of toppings that rotted your teeth just by pronouncing their names.

It wasn't far from the school and was equipped with all the latest shiny vinyl furniture that one could have asked for, along with chromed rails and uniforms that included smiley faced namebadges. The prices were a little less than reasonable, but Nabiki could honestly say she had never had to pay them, and thus that the service was more than worth the price.

It was immediately clear that Ranma, still somewhat sullen from the days events, had neither ever been into such an establishment before nor had absolutely any idea of how to behave in one. Nevertheless he did try, even to the point of attempting to be formal and decant some of their coke's into smaller vessels that vaguely resembled, to his mind, cups. He eyed the metal long handled spoons with only thinly disguised suspicion.

Nabiki couldn't help but chuckle, and barely managed to get her hand in front to her mouth before it became a full blown laugh.

Which turned out to be a good thing because it finally broke the tense formality that had been lingering since that meeting at the gate. Instead of being offended he actually chuckled back and pushed the offending item away before looking over at her. "This place is weird" he insisted, still at least partly sullen but at least now willing to talk.

Nabiki laughed again, shaking her head as she wondered how someone who could have seemed so at home in the finest tea house in all Tokyo could be having so much trouble with a simple sundae spoon.

"This is about ice-cream" she insisted with mock formality, her eyes now sparkling with mischief, "the weakness of many a samurai and servant alike since it's inception by the devious 'Haagan Das!'

He clearly had no idea what she was talking about, but seemed to appreciate there was humour there somewhere. "A good job one of us is armed then?" he replied

"No, your sword cannot help us here" she replied, her face an pretend severe frown, "it must be slain with very select weapons" she insisted, collecting and brandishing her own spoon just in time for their orders to arrive.

With her demonstrating the 'technique' he soon got the hang of it and was soon tucking in himself, with obvious and unfeigned relish, the amazing curative powers of the confectionary eroding his dark mood scoop by scoop.

"It's good!" he insisted, and she only smiled encouragingly, before going back to savouring both her own and his obvious enjoyment of his.

"So" she asked as the spoons began to scrape the bottom of the glasses, "what was that at lunchtime?" she enquired, instantly regretting it as his smile faded like a morning mist and the serious mask was back in place. "I know you know something" she cued, to willing to let up just yet.

"He is an Oni" Ranma replied, his tone as hard as his face and his shoulders setting steadily too, "A man who made a deal he shouldn't have done" he added, his tone hinting at still more.

"He? Is?" Nabiki asked, having not missed the details, "You killed it!" she insisted, remembering the blood only too well.

"It takes more than a simple sword-strike to destroy a damned soul" Ranma replied gravely, his tone hinting again at very personal experience "He will be back"

Nabiki shivered at the thought, "Then it is a good job that we have you here to protect us" she supplied, archly.

"Perhaps" Ranma replied, obviously intent on not giving any more away.

She watched him for a long moment, weighing up the chance of getting more information now against the chances of pushing him too far and getting none at all. In the end she stumped for the latter, but made it very clear in her expression that she did not consider the matter closed, whatever he thought.

They ate for a few more moments in silence, then she shifted tack, "So what did you want to speak to me about?" she enquired, "This morning?" she added to remind him of that 'conversation' that they had been having before the boar-faced demon man had stormed the gates.

He took a moment to think then, "I need your help Tendo" he replied, leaving her to be grateful that at least he hadn't used the full honourific, and retreated fully into his customary formality "With a delicate matter" he said, visibly uncomfortable to even be discussing the subject

In the short while she had known him, and based on her so very recently updated reading on samurai standards of behaviour, she could easily guess why, even if she frankly had no idea at all what he was getting at.

"You're engaged to a half-dozen semi psychotic girls who won't take no for an answer and insist on taking their sexual frustrations out on you?" she joked in reply, hoping to lighten the mood somewhat.

She was only partly successful, gaining a half smile at best, even if something, perhaps the cold of the icecream, chose that moment to be felt and visibly ran a shiver down his spine ..

"No" he replied, "I need to save the house of Kuno" he insisted, the smile evaporating back to his 'warrior' mask, once again apparently literally deadly serious "From itself" he finished, dropping the proverbial bomb

For the briefest of moments she dared to hope he was putting it on he was getting her back, joking as she had been, but the seriousness in his tone made a lie of that.

"Okay" she said slowly, "explain" but even as she said it she was all too certain she knew what he was talking about.

"It is a matter of honour" he said firmly, "the honour of the clan I serve," he insisted, a touch of habitual pride in the pronouncement of service, even if it was tinged with newer shame

"I was meaning to ask you about that" Nabiki replied, grateful for the opening, "I mean how is it that you-" she began, hoping to ask some of the burning questions like why any sane man would accept Tatewaki as a superior in anything but bluster.

"It is a matter of honour" Ranma replied, frustratingly simply, as if that explained it all "One that I was honoured to bear before I had to fight-"

"To make yourself heard through the nutty delusions of your lord and master?" Nabiki supplied, only to see Ranma's face cloud over and his jaw set, his right hand even twitching reflexively towards the swords that he had set down beside him.

"Whoa, Joke!" she insisted very quickly indeed, reaching out a hand wardingly. Only now was she remembering a story from one of the books she had read, of an international incident started because a gaijin implied a slur on a travelling daimyo and his samurai cut the man's party down before so much as checking they understood what they were implying.

Meanwhile Ranma had stopped, frozen solid and tense as a coiled spring, jaw set as if at war with itself, "This is difficult enough as it is" he said, "without such…" he trailed off, seeking a word to explain, but Nabiki had already guessed.

For all the proof she had seen that the young man had a real sense of humour he also claimed to be a samurai. Samurai Ranma's honour might be willing to privately admit that he was in the service or a deranged idiot, but it was another question entirely to have an outsider vocalise the thought. Just coming to an outsider for help was a stretch all of its own and even as Nabiki considered such she began to realise just how much trust that spoke of.

The question then became what exactly she had done to engender such trust.

"You take honour very seriously neh?" she said, buying time to think, cutting back to more familiar ground, eyes narrowing as she got closer to the things that made this enigmatic man tick, "you're willing to jeopardise your own by seeking help, for the greater honour of the clan you serve" she said

"Bushido" he intoned, quoting the traditional laws of Samurai duty, one that had absolutely no room for personal feelings, or self preservation. The code was complex beyond simple definition, but at the same time utterly resolute on where a samurai stood in relation to the heads of the clan he served.

Nabiki had been reading a lot about that word, recognising it in all sorts of strange places, intrigued and at the same time repulsed by a system that made no allowances at all for the personal feelings of it's adherents or for the comfort of those at the lower end of the scale.

"What are your current thoughts?" she asked, very carefully, now well aware of the very tricky ground they were treading.

"Find a new wife for their father, kill both the children and commit seppuku" he replied, expression still set, "secure the lineage and then restore it's honour"

It took her a few moments to work out that he wasn't actually joking, that he was very much deadly serious about both murder and suicide, all for the honour of a clan that was nuttier than the coconut crunch behind the counter and deserved such dedication like Bin Laden deserved a peace prize.

"Okay…" she said, boggling a little and looking for some new ground to stand the conversation on, honestly out of her depth discussing such very not-school-kid issues. What exactly did you say to a boy who had just told you he was honestly considering carving up two of his contemporaries with a sword and then cutting his own guts out, all in the name of a code that nobody sane followed any more.

"I was hoping that you might have a less… bloody solution" he replied, looking up to her with a half desperate look in his eyes and letting her see the mingled emotion therein. She could see the hope he mentioned there, but with it was more; no small amount of despair, but more than both of these, a steel hard edge that said that his plan was a real option to him, even at the cost he had already stated.

"What's in it for me?" she asked, reflexively, falling back on old certainties as her mind tried to grapple with what she had just realised. Even as the words came out of her mouth though she regretted it, remembering all too well how little this samurai liked to haggle. "I mean I make a lot of money from the way Kuno is"

But there was no taking back it, or the flicker of surprise and maybe even hurt that ran through Ranma's expressive eyes. "Your house would gain by it's link to the Kunos" he said, slowly, ducking his chin and visibly trying to put into words concepts that he had simply assumed she knew, "and the gratitude of their retainer" he added, with a small wince as if he did not at all like how that sounded, "Also money-" he began, grimacing in distaste at discussing such but obviously willing to go there if that was what it took.

"Ranma" she cut in, reaching across the table to grab his hand, "Stop" she demanded, fixing his eyes with her own. "It's okay" she said, kicking herself for that reflex and confused as to why, "we'll work it out" she insisted, well aware she was backtracking, and even more aware that she was committing herself

He looked back up to her and let her see the blue sky eyes she was quietly coming to appreciate so much, this time filled with very genuine gratitude. "Thank you Tendo-sama" he offered

"Nabiki" she corrected.