Ranma 1/2 was created by Rumiko Takahashi and its characters belong to her, and her alone. I'm just kinda borrowing them. The story below is for entertainment purposes only, and not to be used commercially. ...Obviously.
"Learning Curve"
Part I (v1.4)
by: J. Wagner
As the darkened sun slowly set, a cold wind blew through the city. Admiring his view over the buildings, if only in passing, a young man sighed, taking in the image. It would begin to snow soon, he knew, like a now instinctive warning claxon from deep within his subconscious. It was going to be biting, probably mixed with sleet... but it wouldn't be rain. And if it wasn't rain, weather was really of no concern to him. Shrugging the weight off his shoulders slightly, and adjusting his well work cloak, the man hissed a silent and foreign curse between his lips, and kept walking.
Shelter for the night would be preferable to simply keeping going, as he had the last two days, without sleep, especially in light of the coming storm. Checking the skyline, and the nearest buildings, he snarled. If he was where he suspected he was... which wasn't often correct... then he'd wandered more off course than normal. Finding what looked to be a somewhat knowledgeable passerby, he bowed his head slightly in deference, and took an educated guess as to the appropriate language.
"Excuse me, but where am I now? Which city?"
The man paused, giving the questioning man in the heavy wool cloak and oversized backpack a disbelieving look. He was, obviously, a foreigner due to the accent, though his grasp of the language was excellent. But, how could anyone not know where, at least generally, they were? Briefly toying with the idea that this was some kind of practical joke or the like, the man finally decided to play along, and shrugged.
"Moscow. Why?"
"Moscow... that's what I was afraid of. This may sound unusual, but which way to Tokyo, Japan?"
The man pointed in the general direction of east, and answered, "East. That way."
The cloaked foreigner seemed serious, and lowered his head a bit more, letting dark, heavy bangs cascade over his eyes, obscuring them behind a veil of black. The wind kicked up again, and the ends of the stranger's orange and black themed bandanna flittered slightly over his tip of shoulder.
"Thank you."
There was a tangible feeling of depression and darkness, just then, prompting the man to dismiss any thoughts of this being a joke. Quickly excusing himself, he left the foreigner behind at an almost desperate pace. Watching him go, Hibiki Ryouga narrowed his eyes in silent, burning frustration. Heading east would have to wait until morning. He was still in mainland Asia... this came as both a relief and as a blow to his pride. How could he have wandered halfway to Europe and not known it?! Sure... the nights had been getting longer, and the terrain and weather colder. And the people...
Stupid stupid stupid!!
"Damn it," he finally decided on saying. Self-loathing, while a popular Hibiki pass-time, wasn't productive at the moment, either as a motivational factor, or simply as something to pass the time between time zones pondering over. He had to find shelter, and this far into Russia, only Rubles would do, no matter how devalued they were. The only other option being American currency, which he kept for emergencies because it was accepted almost everywhere, but the current exchange rate was a mystery, and Ryouga didn't like his chances of being cheated out of his backup cash.
"You're running away," hissed a small accusing voice, before being summarily ignored. So he walked, randomly, though the streets. The city had a vibrant nightlife that was, just now, coming out in numbers to dominate the alleys and streets of Moscow. Then, Ryouga saw it - a Dojo. Well... actually, it was a Systema Hall, going by the sign, only ten minutes away from closing. Challenging the master, traditionally, for a day's stay or some food was part and parcel of the mystique and lifestyle of the traveling martial artist. Far be it for him to pass up on such an opportunity.
Quickly deciding this was the best chance for some room and board he was going to get, Ryouga stepped inside, his eyes taking in the layout instantly; his stance adjusting slightly for any possible attacks from any of the remaining students. Adjusting his well-worn old traveling gloves, and smiling, Ryouga decided to stay a few days. He would absorb this Systema, and adapt any of it he liked to his own style... it would be useful when the time came for fulfillment.
And for revenge.
The battle was brief, and Ryouga decided to spend the next day observing the school's best students as they sparred. It was a welcome and productive distraction from the past... from the duel: from what passed for a life. As a lull in the action came, despite his best efforts, Ryouga felt his mind wander onto where it all went wrong. Or right, depending on one's point of view.
It had begun over a few months ago, back in Japan. He had returned to Nerima after two weeks of training, alone, in the mountains - the journey had been difficult, and the hardships great. It had been an emotional and physical peak, then, almost like a high. It had taken another week and a half; time wholly wasted, to get back to Tokyo, and by then...
Clenching his fist, Ryouga closed his eyes in shame.
By that time, Ranma had been training with Cologne in the Amaguriken. He hadn't had a chance, of course, so in retrospect his humiliation wasn't as great, but retrospective analysis never dulled the pain, or the anger, or the raw seething rage. If only... Ryouga stopped himself before that thought could complete itself. If the mind wanted to dip into that barrel of excuses, it may as well start with 'If only Ranma had showed up for our duel.' Or 'If only Ranma had... no, if only I had been more careful.' Or as far as 'If only I hadn't played as P-chan for so long.' It was, ultimately, a futile and fruitless exercise in frustration and anger; two things Ryouga knew he already had in terrible abundance. Still, Ryouga admitted, watching the students watching the sensei, did not a wise man say, 'Learn from the past?'
Damn him, if he wasn't right.
***
The Past
"I'm ready to go whenever you are," Ryouga said, shouldered his pack, and looked around the interior of the Nekohanten. The dinner crowd had long since left, and the place was empty, except for Shampoo, who seemed to be cleaning the café table. Cologne had told him to wait, and given his propensity for getting lost, and more importantly, his desire to avenge his earlier humiliation the results of which would undoubtedly lie in whatever the old bat had to teach, Ryouga wasn't eager to test his luck. The waiting and the silence weren't a problem, really; he was more than used to them - they were more like parents than his actual parents, wherever they were. The last he'd heard, his father thought his mother was somewhere in Australia, while he himself had business in New York.
"Where you and great grandmother going, anyway?"
"Eh?" The question came from the café, and Ryouga opened one eye, as if the speaker really needed visual confirmation. Shampoo asked again, before he answered, simply, honestly, "Training."
Ryouga paused, before adding, "To defeat Ranma."
"Stupid pig-boy never beat Airen."
"The old woman would only train me if she thought I had a chance of beating Ranma. You should know that," Ryouga returned. Ryouga's brows furrowed, as he bit back the anger, even if she was currently 100% right on the issue. Shampoo was conspicuously silent, so he decided to throw a little more in. "Besides. You're too weak to form an educated opinion. Ranma beat you by accident."
Shampoo visibly bristled, and a part of Ryouga instantly regretted saying that, not because she was angry, which was just the reaction he'd hoped to provoke, but because he was sure she was hurt, too. It wasn't like he had a problem with Shampoo, he was just feeling particularly short tempered and eager to snap at someone. He didn't know her very well, but it was likely her Amazon pride was still hurting from that little incident Ranma had shared with him and the rest of the Tendo Clan. In a way, he really pitied the girl, especially after the way Ranma had tricked her into leaving soon after she'd shown up.
Ryouga could literally feel her glare on him, but ignored it when the faint tap-tap of Cologne's walking (hopping?) stick signaled the ancient Amazon's entrance. Soon, he would begin training in the Amaguriken technique. He would defeat Ranma and... and... and after that, he wasn't sure. Maybe Akane...
'No.' He reprimanded himself. 'Stay focused! Focus, damn it!'
Pushing off from the wall with his shoulders, eyes still closed, he was silent and let none of his thoughts betray him. Cologne watched him adjust the pack on his shoulders with practiced ease and go through some unknown mental preparations.
"Watch the store while we're gone, Shampoo," she spoke over her shoulder. "I'll only be gone a week or so."
"You really going train lost boy?" Shampoo, still angry over being called 'weak,' decided to press the issue. "He probably get lost on way there."
Ryouga growled under his breath, and Shampoo continued, "Shampoo come, too. Help keep lost boy not lost. Training trip make up for lost plane tickets."
More importantly, Shampoo thought to herself, was to learn whatever he was going to learn. It wouldn't do for people to go around thinking she was weak.... Besides, if Ryouga thought that of her, Ranma probably did too.
"I don't need your help!" The lost boy in question snarled.
"A fine idea, Shampoo," Cologne said in a neutral tone, "Get your things. We can wait a few minutes."
"She won't get in the way, will she?" Ryouga asked, after waiting a few seconds for Shampoo to leave the room. He didn't need to add that he was referring to the inevitable fight between Ranma and himself. He had seen Shampoo doting over Ranma before, and it had interrupted their skirmishes previously. This one was the most important to date - taking Shampoo along was a risk he wasn't keen on taking.
"Are you saying you'd be unable to deal with that?" Cologne answered in a roundabout way, and Ryouga huffed in obvious dismissal. The ancient Amazon smiled at that. A poke at male pride could accomplish more than a thousand blows to the cranium... in most cases. Taking Shampoo along was actually looking more and more like a good idea: she would provide additional motivation. Ryouga had as much pride as her son-in-law, and he would do anything to avoid looking weak in front of any girl, even one he had no connection to, like Shampoo. Furthermore, Shampoo could cook; freeing her from having to do so, and it might even encourage her great granddaughter to rededicate herself to the Arts of her tribe.
Shampoo was an excellent and skilled warrior, the finest of her generation, but Cologne had noticed an obvious and disturbing dip in her skills since she left the village to pursue the pig-tailed girl who was actually a pig-tailed boy. Almost certainly, it was due to her reversal from revenge to love, and the lack of any serious opponent in that respect. Tendo Akane was nowhere near skilled or strong enough to fight Shampoo and win, additionally Shampoo had given up trying to kill Ranma, and as a consequence, by the time she returned home in disgrace, her skills had atrophied to the level they were at when she turned 15, well over a year ago. The training at Jyusenkyou had been essentially a disaster, and had cemented Shampoo's decision to 'cut down' on Cologne's recommended training regimen in favor of returning to court Ranma, for which additional fighting skills were unnecessary.
Worse was the Mousse situation. Damn that male... Cologne knew he was fast, skilled, and strong enough to defeat Shampoo, and had been for a little over two years, but he refused to do so. Her dislike for him had only developed after she realized that he could beat Shampoo, but never did so. It was a terrible insult, both to Shampoo and to herself, that could not be ignored. His showing up recently only made things worse. Shampoo, of course, felt she could defeat him in battle, should the opportunity arise, and worked to drive home her determination NOT to improve herself. Cologne would have cursed silently at the situation, and almost did on occasion, because there was no easy solution to the problem.
What Shampoo needed was an appropriate rival, something to motivate and encourage her to mature, but Cologne had no idea where to find one.
***
The Present
"Saotome! Prepare to DIE!"
"Aw, geez, man! Not again!" The martial artist in question, well acquainted with that particular battle cry, jumped to the side as the ground beneath him splintered and cracked. Twisting, he faced the young man crouched below him, one hand's clenched fingers dug into the broken asphalt, and the other behind his back. Fluidly, as he stood up, the boy drew out a long, wide bladed weapon Ranma had become altogether too familiar with over the last few weeks. The razor's edge of the giant spatula caught the light as the weapon's wielder smirked, and lowered into a modified crouch, one hand forward.
"Time to pay for your crimes, Saotome!"
"I'm getting sick and tired of you attacking me!" Ranma landed easily on the top of a nearby building. "What's your problem, anyway?"
"You'll find out..." The boy hissed between clenched teeth, and took to the air, "Right before I send you to HELL!"
Ranma growled something under his breath, before rolling backwards and avoiding losing his head to the unusual weapon. Keeping mobile, he pushed off with his shoulder at the first opportunity. Looking over to the side, only for a half second, he saw the still quivering handle of a mini-spatula wedged cleanly halfway into one of the roof's tiles where he had been headed prior to his misdirection. Spinning in midair, arms out, he then deflected the next of the projectiles, and pined down Ukyou's position where he was quickly readying another of the things. Letting his inertia carry him, he extended his right leg - hoping to end it this quickly was probably foolish, but a protracted fight now, this early in the morning, would make the rest of the day a real hassle.
A wall of steel seemed to disagree.
Landing on both feet, Ranma lowered his arms from the block, silently cursing at the pain before dismissing it. Ukyou stood, his giant spatula held in a post-strike pose, before quickly shifting into a cross-handle attacking position. Ranma braced himself; he always used that position to attack with his main weapon - in a way, it was like fighting Kuno, except Ukyou was as skilled without his blade as with. Making a split second decision to move in quick, and try to disarm him, Ranma ducked at the last second, spun, and dug a sharp elbow into his opponent, before reaching up and grabbing the handle of the weapon itself.
"Ha!" He felt a rush of confidence and power, as he gave the weapon a hard jerk. Ukyou was good, but not as strong as he was - the other boy had no hope of winning now. He might as well give up and leave. Bringing up his left leg to block a counter blow, Ranma amended that, and returned one of his own, catching the boy in the lower ribs. Ukyou gave a snarl, and another tug at the weapon, before seemingly closing his eyes in defeat.
A moment of pity came and went, before Ranma forcibly reminded himself that Ukyou wasn't his friend anymore. Looking down at the angry young man, he wondered just what had happened to turn Uuchan into this state. Sure, Ranma had stolen food from them, but Ukyou's father never saw it as anything too serious. It was just training! He even encouraged it! Maybe... the secret sauce? He had ruined that, but it was an accident, and no reason to go all blood-eyed vengeance on an old friend.
Still... maybe there was a chance things could be set right.
"Good! Now give me the..." Ranma's voice became a squeak, as a fist buried itself in a very... intimate part of his anatomy. Before he could regain his bearings, he was airborne. The world was spinning, but everything came into crystal clarity as his back made best friends with a dozen roof tiles. Aside from that, the pigtailed martial artist only wished that damn ringing in his ears would clear up.
"Give you... what you deserve, Ranma?" Ukyou reversed his spatula in his hands, leveling the sharpened edge to Ranma's body. "Don't mind if I do!"
And then the roof gave out.
Ranma hit the ground with a thud; his attacker recovered instantly and landed soundlessly on both feet. A tense second passed, and Ukyou blinked at the two elderly people who had been having tea in their living room.
"Um... hi?" Ukyou said, unsure.
Ranma, however, would not be ignored, and a split second after the words left Ukyou's mouth, his feet took their place, sending the martial artist up and out of the hole in the roof. Ukyou knew what was next - she was in the air, and the air was indisputably Ranma's domain. The panic came quickly, and left just as quickly. Reorientation identified where the ground was, and it was close. Then, without preamble, the blows rained down to the chorus of...
"Kachuu Tenshi Amaguriken!"
Ukyou hit the hard ground on her side, fighting back the urge to pass out, and looked up. Ranma was standing above her, hurt and angry, yes, but to her eyes: mostly gloating and arrogant. This battle was over, and they both knew it. Silence would have been preferable - the silence of the humble victor, but that thought died as Ranma's mouth curved into a smile, and the inevitable left his lips. "Why do you keep doing this, anyway? I always win."
'What point is there?' Went unspoken, but sufficiently implied.
"Liar! This is far from over!" Ukyou snarled, slowly getting back to her feet. The smile on Ranma's face faded like cheap ink in the ocean, and Ukyou knew, then, that though the battle had been lost, the war was only beginning. ...That there would be a reckoning.
What point was there? What else: to SPITE him!
"You don't know what you're talking about." Came the response from the heir to the Saotome School.
"You are a liar and a thief. And this isn't over, Saotome. Not by a long shot! I will have my revenge, even if it takes me another ten years!" Ukyou stepped back, over the edge of the roof, and was gone. Seeing him go, Ranma winced at the pain from this last encounter - he'd NEVER expected another guy to do that to him, even in a fight. What kind of a man hit below the belt, anyway?
"What the hell happened to you, Ukyou?" Ranma spoke far too softly for anyone to hear, turned, and made himself scarce.
The landing had been hell, but Ukyou shrugged off the pain. Brushing a hand by her side, she checked to make sure that nothing was broken, and didn't hide her relief when she found no permanent damage. It was small compensation for her defeat; she HAD the bastard... then she had gotten distracted. And, a small part of her whispered, she had hesitated. It was probably natural, and truthfully, she knew that she would when the time came, but it was unnerving nonetheless. How could more than ten years of toil and work end in her standing over him and then ignoring the momentousness of the moment to talk to two old people?
"Stupid." She leaned against the front door of 'Ukyou's Bar and Grill.' The whole thing was stupid...
"Hmm?" She blinked at the mailbox, standing impassively in front of the door. Shrugging, she reached in and was rewarded by a handful of papers and a single package, most of which were dismissed after a half-second review. She kept the phone bill separate - she'd check that one more carefully later - and the second to last one. Staring at it for a second, looking over all the stamps and the strange writing on the otherwise plain brown-wrapped package, she wavered between opening it outright, or waiting.
Grinning, she tucked it under her arm.
She had a call to make first.
***
The Past.
Ryouga fell to the ground a crumpled, crushed heap. The battery acid tang of blood was, by now, a familiar taste in his mouth, but he spat it out nonetheless. Gasping, he decided a little humor wouldn't hurt.
"Out with the old... ugh... in... in with..."
'Damn. I really wanted to finish that sentence, too,' he thought, as his body somehow found the strength to roll over onto its back. High above, mockingly, that damn boulder swayed back and forth. Dotting it like streaks of new age paint were blotches of blood, the newer ones a dark crimson in the cold night air, the older ones from yesterday a shade of black. Ryouga saw a sick timeline in those splatters of himself high above. Were they a testament to his determination... or his stupidity?
See the Breaking Point with your mind, not your eyes.
At least his memory was intact.
Closing his eyes, Ryouga only saw the last few hours, over and over again. Silently, he hoped that his dreams wouldn't be like this, despite the fact that he knew better. Every impact he had dared to close his eyes on, to try and ignore, to try and shy from, would come back and haunt him a hundredfold when he slept. And they would keep coming until he no longer feared that barely audible whine, that creek in the ropes holding them both above the ground, and that sudden 'pop' of air right before several tons of solid rock tried to turn you into gut jam.
It was then that he realized it.
"H... h... hungry!"
The woods didn't seem to care, so Ryouga silently cursed them to hell (They can join Saotome there, as far as he was concerned). While he was on that subject, he carefully pointed out and documented, for future reference, everything in a ten-mile radius that would also be cursed to hell. Foremost among them that damn boulder, that damn old Ghoul, and that worthless amaz...
"You hungry?"
'Kami bless you, Shampoo,' Ryouga thought as he coughed, to try and get his voice back. Standing over him, he saw Shampoo: she wasn't dressed as flamboyantly as usual, or even in the traveling clothes she had worn yesterday. Replacing all that was a simple black shirt (though it had some odd white dots on it here and there) and pants. He also noted that she didn't offer her hand to help him up.
"Very hungry, yes," he grumbled, and then rolled back, fluidly, onto his feet and into an upright standing position. The pain was rapidly fading, as his body and his ki went to work subconsciously. He knew, from experience, that, by morning, after some food - almost any food (he was used to living on dry rations and instant noodles once every two days) he would be ready to begin anew the torture and masochism of learning the Bakusai Tenketsu.
"Is good. Come with me, no get lost."
She turned, and he followed. It was a short walk, relatively, into the clearing where the Amazons had made camp. There was a stream running by with fish, and Ryouga growled inwardly at it. Mornings he spent trying to increase his speed and hand-eye coordination trying to catch the fish without getting wet. It was totally infuriating, especially after his curse activated for the fortieth time earlier in the day. In a way, he preferred the physical pain of that damn boulder slamming into him than the simple and undeniable frustration of the river.
Ignoring the water, something the Jyusenkyou cursed would consider akin to ignoring a snarling beast on your front porch, Ryouga took in the rest of the camp. It was plush, given what he was used to. The old ghoul wasn't around, but who knew what that dried up old woman did with her time anyway? His pack was lying against a large rock, where he had left it earlier, providing a quick sense of relief that it hadn't been lost. Some days, it seemed like he lost that backpack a dozen times a week.
There was also a large fire crackling, filling the area with a gentle glow, and a large metal pot over it promising that at least something was cooked and ready. No hunting for him - good thing, too, with the intensity of his training regimen and his directional problems. Idly, he realized he had no idea what time it was, and then dismissed it. Time here was relative anyway. Sitting down in front of the fire, Ryouga felt a sense of calm and serenity, and savored it - it was such a rare feeling, simply to let the body and the tension melt away.
"What a day!" He inhaled deeply, and smelt the food. Sighing, he did so again as Shampoo handed him a bowl.
"Is plain ramen," she said, simply.
"It... it smells good, Shampoo. Thank you." Ryouga gave a weak smile, before beginning to eat. It may have been plain ramen, but it was good. It was only about five seconds into eating that he realized he hadn't checked to make sure it wasn't drugged. He regretted it at first, given what he'd heard about the unscrupulous Amazon and some of what he'd witnessed, then paused before he said anything. Shampoo seemed to be eating it herself from her own bowl without any hesitation, so, in one of his brighter moments, Ryouga kept quiet and decided if the food was drugged, he'd just end up drugged.
Seconds, and thirds followed in short order by the time Shampoo had finished her first helping. Ryouga didn't then, or before, consider himself greedy - one simply got what food one could, when one could, regardless. To his exhausted body it was as matter of survival now, as it was back when... back when he had showed up to the school cafeteria, broken and hungry, so often back in his younger days. He hadn't nearly been as good back then at hunting, salting, and preserving meats as he was now. Then, there was just the hunger, the food, and Ranma.
"Curse you, Ranma." He couldn't help but growl, but kept it low. No need to make Shampoo protective... if she attacked him in his current state, it wouldn't be pretty. It also wouldn't be good for his training schedule.
"Hmm? What lost boy say?" She looked up from the empty pot, obviously a little annoyed, and just as obviously (except to Ryouga) a little pleased that, for once, someone ate her food without asking if it was drugged, or if it came with favors attached. That kind of stuff was probably just the domain of that crazy Kuno girl, and Akane's mercenary older sister, at least in Shampoo's limited worldview. Ryouga seemed a little nervous, before inching back against the truck of a tree and relaxing notably.
"Nothing." He sighed, and closed his eyes. "Goodnight, Shampoo. ...Thanks again for the food."
Shampoo just blinked, once, and shook her head.
"Stupid lost boy."
***
The Present.
Inside the restaurant, at the grill, Ukyou checked the clock for the third time. Looking over the remaining people in the place - only two couples staying late after eating, given the lateness of the hour - she relaxed. The stove was cold now, but she wasn't in 'disguise,' and had let her hair down and dressed in her much more comfortable cooking clothes. Ranma had, about a week ago, walked in on her like this and asked if 'Ukyou had a sister?' He hadn't shown his face here since, for obvious reasons. The memory still boiled her blood, and she shook it off with practiced ease. Her 'brother' would take it out on the pig-tailed brat tomorrow. So absorbed in alternating thoughts of vengeance and annoyance, Ukyou hadn't noticed Shampoo until she was right in front of the grill.
"Hey! Spatula-girl!"
Ukyou sighed in annoyance at the name. "About time you showed up, beachball-girl."
Shampoo smirked. "You were calling me, not other way around. What this surprise, Ukyou?"
"I got a package. Thought you'd like to open it when I do, sugar."
"Package from Lost-boy?" Shampoo shook her head a bit. "From Ryouga, yes?"
"Yep. You haven't been practicing your Japanese, have you? You know if you just registered and went to school...."
"Shampoo doing fine on her own! Maybe you try speak fluent mandarin in less than two months. See how good you do."
"Mousse did it," Ukyou added, deciding to have some fun with the Chinese girl.
"Stupid Mousse." Shampoo ended the subject then and there. Ukyou shrugged, reached behind the counter, and took out a medium sized plain brown-paper package. It was, however, covered in a number of stamps most of which looked totally foreign to both girls. The return address wasn't even in anything recognizable. Taking one of her mini-spatulas, Ukyou opened it carefully. There were three smaller boxes, all neatly laid out, also wrapped, and on top of that, a single folded postcard.
"Is definitely from Ryouga," Shampoo said, and Ukyou just nodded. Ryouga was one of the neatest and most organized people either girl had ever seen - he somehow knew where everything in that massive pack he carried was, and it was a miracle of topography that he was able to fit everything in there in the first place. Shampoo reached down and picked up the postcard. It was a picture of Ryouga, leaning casually on his newest red umbrella, in front of a line of large gray-green tanks of some sort. A building with twisting spires dominated the background.
"Wow. Lost boy really lost this time."
"Open it," Ukyou urged. She knew Shampoo couldn't read perfect Japanese, and she also knew better than to say so. Deciding quickly, Ukyou started reading out loud.
"Ukyou, Shan Pu, I hope this letter finds you both in good health and high spirits. Ukyou, I hope you've been giving Saotome back at least some fraction of the Hell he has inflicted on both of us while keeping yourself safe. I wish I could be there to watch you fight him, but I can only hope that your training prepared for the task at hand, and that you are still able to take out your vengeance on his worthless hide. Remember to watch out for his tricks! He'll do anything, say anything, to win! Shan Pu, I hope Mu Tzu hasn't been annoying you as much now, and that those books I got will help you become more comfortable speaking in Japanese. You know I also wish you luck in whatever you chose to do, even if it revolves around that damn rat bastard Ranma, and even if I fear it will only bring you heartbreak. But please, try and keep the poisons and potions to a minimum - such is not the way of a martial artist. If either of you are curious, I am currently in --scratched out-- St. Petersburg. At least that's what the guy here told me. Anyway, if this isn't St. Petersburg, then I suppose you won't get this package. IF you get this package, which you must have to be reading this, then that means I was in St. Pete's... yeah, that makes sense. I seem to be steadily heading west... I think, and this damn compass you got me ('I got him,' Ukyou points out.) doesn't seem to be helping that much. I'm going to try and catch a plane to Hong Kong again, and after that on to Tokyo. Wish me luck. And inside you'll find some things I thought the two of you might like. Sincerely, Hibiki Ryouga."
Ukyou added, "PS: 'Damn it! This is all Ranma's fault!'"
"Shampoo see what he got her!" Shampoo picked out one of the little boxes labeled 'Shan Pu' in mandarin, and opened it with gusto. Ryouga sent them stuff every few weeks, and it was always a surprise what they got. Back in the village, when she was young, Shampoo had gotten New Year's presents, and usually something on her birthday, but that had ended ten years ago. Ripping away the paper, she ended up with a small box, the clear cover displaying some sort of computer.
"It's a beeper," Ukyou said, matter-of-factly.
"Beeper?"
"Probably for your delivery routes. You know, it beeps, and you get a message from someone about stuff."
Shampoo expression spoke volumes... or the lack thereof.
"It can be pretty useful." Ukyou turned to her package, and opened it neatly. Inside were several vacuum-sealed cans of sturgeon caviar, and a note. "Roe Okonomiyaki?"
"Is delicacy," Shampoo stated the obvious.
"Could work, I guess. The lost boy has odd taste, it seems." Ukyou picked up the last package, and tested the weight: it was obviously a book, but was otherwise unlabeled. Tearing off the paper, Ukyou saw the title and quickly handed it to Shampoo, who looked at it for a second before speaking.
"Is Russian. No can read." She shook her head.
"Must be for his little collection here." Ukyou took it. "It'll put it with the two Indian ones and the one in... er..."
"Cantonese, if Shampoo remember correctly."
"Yeah. Cantonese." Ukyou put the book away, with the three others, in the back of the kitchen behind the grill. "You know what this means. He's actually trying to come back now. If he catches both planes... a virtual impossibility, I know, but if he does, he could be here in a week."
"If only one, probably three weeks," Shampoo said and sighed. "Stupid lost boy."
"He can't wander Asia forever. Sooner or later he'll get lucky and walk onto a ship or plane or something." Ukyou closed her eyes. "He always gets to where he wants to go... eventually."
***
The Past.
"Again!" Cologne demanded, her voice stern.
Ryouga snarled in acceptance, ignoring his own nudity, concentrating instead on the water. His fingers itched, oddly, as did the muscles in his arms. Quickly, the fast flowing current resolved into slow motion - the slow motion the world took on when there was just survival and the fight. When the center was found, and the rest of the universe devolved into another frame of mind. Leaning forward, Ryouga's fists became streaks of motion, plunging into the water faster than the eye could see, as down below, the fish just began to panic and scatter at the intrusion. Their movements were like molasses, however. The challenge was three fold, the first being the coordination required to catch the fish without getting wet, the second being to hold onto the fish and maintain a grip, again, without getting wet, and the third being to drop the fish behind him while still maintaining this level of speed.
Before him, the water parted. Narrowing his eyes, Ryouga trust his flattened palm again into the swirling vortex that was in front of him. Droplets of water hung in the air, like an explosion of diamonds. Mentally, Ryouga tracked them, even as he let his instincts guide his hands through areas of already parted water, widening his palms ever so slightly when needed to open new tunnels that would only last half a second each. The fatigue, too, was looming over his body like a specter, alternating between telling him to give up and urging to rest. Of the two arguments, the second was, Ryouga knew, by far the most deadly and dangerous. A rest, now, however tempting, would ruin everything...
Then, the tingle began in the base of his spine, and he cursed mentally.
He'd lost.
"Bwee!" The pig shook its head. Over him, though not much (she's pretty damn short) Cologne sighed, emptying the kettle over him. Hooves grew into hands, and the tiny pig expanded into the form of a man, the yellow and black bandanna shifting during the transformation from neck and shoulders to forehead.
"Damn it all," Ryouga said and slumped over, hands carving furrows in the ground. "I just... can't do it!"
"The kettle's empty," Cologne replied, confirming what he had already suspected, and Ryouga slowly nodded. She turned; giving him one last glance that sent sick shivers up the back of the boy's neck, before hopping off. Shaking some of the water from his head, Ryouga quickly toweled himself off, and with all too practiced ease, got changed. His clothes, at least, were dry. After the first day, Cologne had simply suggested he take them off during this part of his training. It had been embarrassing, naturally, and Ryouga had refused at first... but in the end, it made sense. And, given that he'd undergone well over thirty transformations in the last two hours, it was also more convenient.
He paled when he remembered that Cologne had also offered to strip down to make him more 'comfortable.'
"Ugh. Old hag," he grumbled, wringing out his bandanna, the one item of clothing he kept on. Letting out a deep breath, he waited, and let his strength return. It was noon, and Shampoo would come in a minute or two to make sure he didn't get lost. Looking down at his hands, he made a fist and realized the tingling was quickly fading away. He'd need to actually hit Ranma to finish him with the Bakusai Tenketsu...
"Wait!" Ryouga paused at that thought: Point A slowly but surely made its way to C, and found B in-between. "Why would that ancient harpy be teaching me a technique that would destroy her beloved son-in-law? There's something else I'm missing here..."
"Nihao!" Ryouga heard from behind, as Shampoo leaned over his shoulder. "Lost boy always talk to self?"
"There usually isn't anyone else around to carry a conversation with." Ryouga stood up, eager for what was to come. "And it's 'Hibiki Ryouga.' Or just Ryouga. Not lost boy."
"You lost all the time." Shampoo stated as she walked, and Ryouga started stammering a half-hearted denial. "You boy. You lost boy."
"Fine. Be that way uh... Chinese... um... girl." Ryouga waved it off, not caring anymore. "Ah, never mind. What's for lunch?"
Shampoo headed off through some bushes, opening up to the campsite, and Ryouga followed. "Pork buns."
"P...P... pork buns?" He exclaimed, shocked.
"You no like pork?"
Ryouga raised a questioning eyebrow. "Do you like cat?"
Shampoo seemed to think about that for a second, before answering. "Never eaten cat. Wouldn't know."
"That's not... I mean..." Ryouga sat in front of the plate, looking at the two steaming, and delicious smelling and looking items of culinary preparation. "My curse is to turn into a pig, you know."
Shampoo didn't seem to follow. "Shampoo know this. So what?"
"You... remember when you tried to cook me?"
"And try serve you to Ranma, yes." Shampoo remembered, and noted that mentioning the pig-tailed martial artist caused Ryouga to flinch slightly. Either that or it was the memory of that event.
"That wasn't the first time it'd happened to me." Ryouga picked up one of the buns, his self-righteousness warring with his hunger. His voice remained cold, however, and he took a deep breath to calm himself. "Not by a long shot, Shampoo. I've come close to dying in my cursed form... close to being eaten... so many damn times. You wouldn't understand the horror... the... the inhumanity of being treated like potential food by other people."
Shampoo was silent. She was bordering on asking if he wanted something else, when he closed his eyes and took a bite out of the first of the buns. As he ate, slowly, his bangs fell over his face, obscuring his eyes. Between mouthfuls, he sighed, his voice still low and cold. "Sorry...."
"Why sorry? Shampoo should be sorry," Shampoo asked as he looked up at her, dark green eyes distant.
"You didn't know it was me. No one ever does." He looked back down. "Not that it makes much of a difference. It would be nice being a cat... unless I ended up in North Korea again. It wouldn't matter what you turn into there."
He let out a quick chuckle, and Shampoo felt some relief as his mood lightened. He was dangerous, she knew from watching him fight Ranma before, but that wasn't it really - when he was like that... the depression and veiled anger was almost tangible. It was an emotional relief to have it dissipate somewhat, and she decided to try and encourage that, if for nothing else than her own mental well-being.
"Shampoo get caught once."
"Caught?" Ryouga looked up again, his mouth full.
"As stray cat." Shampoo took a quick bite out of one of the buns herself. "Taken to animal-prison. Have to escape. Not get home for days, because stuck as cat. Was scary, but kind of fun, too."
Ryouga noted her smile, and gave a small one himself. A memory like that would be just one more painful reminder of his curse, and the tragedy that always seeped into his life, but Shampoo seemed to be describing it as some kind of adventure. As something to remember, not try to forget. It was... an odd concept, but Shampoo didn't seem to live with depression much, despite the fact that she was, pretty much, somewhat of a loner. HHHe'd seen as much over the last few days. She trained, apparently, mainly by herself, and she didn't seem to talk to many people much. Mousse, from what he'd heard, she mainly smacked around and tried to get away from. Ranma, she was too busy glomping to carry a conversation with.
"Well." He scratched the back of his neck. "It's not like you wear a pink heart-shaped collar or identification or anything."
Shampoo laughed, and the two ate briskly. Ryouga finished his second bun quickly, and ignored his stomach's complaints for more. The Bakusai Tenketsu's training was next, and it wouldn't to for a full stomach of food to try and withstand the impacts he'd soon be receiving. A light lunch was preferable, and would tide him over until dinner. Idly, an earlier thought made it to his mouth.
"Shampoo... Are you training by yourself?"
"Plan on training with Lost Boy in mornings, but..." She trailed off, and Ryouga blushed a deep crimson.
"Yeah," he settled on, too nervous to continue.
"No can train with after, either. You always so weak and fall asleep after dinner." Shampoo also finished eating, and stood up. Ryouga noticed she was wearing similar clothes, except this shirt was red, and came to the conclusion that it was almost certainly what she trained in.
"I've got some time before ...Cologne comes and drags me off to dispatch." Ryouga shrugged. "I could give you a few pointers. ...You're not planning on attacking Akane, are you?"
"Shampoo already stronger than violent girl," Shampoo said and smiled.
Ryouga sighed.
"Alright. So... Hey!" The lost boy jumped back as a quick kick passed by his nose. Shampoo pulled her leg back and spun into a backhand that Ryouga saw coming, and avoided. Shampoo's attacks were strong, he knew, but not too quick in execution, and her style was actually fairly raw. It wasn't a surprise that Ranma, in girl form, had defeated her, back at her village. Ducking under another kick he pushed off with his toes, and landed softly half dozen feet away from the attacking Amazon. One thought still worried him.
"We're just practicing, right?" he asked, "No Joketsuzoku rules or laws or anything involved?"
"Great grandmother not around anyway."
Shampoo shrugged quickly, and moved in to attack. Ryouga pivoted at the last second, casually avoiding her fist. Her eyes caught his in that millisecond. Gone was the depression from before, or even the anger. Replacing it was a softer version of confidence that she had seen in Ranma's blue-gray eyes. Before she could try and counter, Ryouga's elbow softly tapped into the back of her head, just enough to feel it.
"Shampoo," he simply said, his voice professional and calm as he lowered his arm. "How much did your grandmother teach you?"
"Great grandmother," Shampoo corrected, and lowered her arms too. The spar was over. With full strength behind that elbow, Shampoo suspected her head would have looked like a splattered tomato. "She teach traditional weaponless and weapon armed fighting techniques. Shampoo best in village."
Ryouga was going to say it didn't say much for the village, but held his tongue. He'd taught Akane Martial arts Rhythmic Gymnastics before, and insults were rarely the right way to go about it. Unless they were really necessary, of course. Besides, Shampoo was really quite good. She was exceptionally strong, fast, and skilled. He was just... better.
"Anything else?" He asked, sensing there was more to it.
Shampoo thought about that before answering, "Few other special things. Bonbori weapon specialty. Broadsword techniques. Staff fighting. Martial Arts Pressure Points. Martial Arts Takeout..."
"Martial Arts Takeout?" Ryouga seemed obviously skeptical.
"Very similar to Martial Arts Masonry!"
"Martial Arts Masonry?!" Ryouga didn't hide his skepticism this time. ...Not that he really had last time, either.
"Is where Bakusai Tenketsu come from! Lost boy should at least know that!" Shampoo held up a finger. "Have attack called 'Blowout.' Destroys delivery when touch box."
Ryouga's eyes narrowed. Shampoo was concentrating a small amount of ki into her finger, just enough that he could feel it. Slowly, he smiled. Things were quickly beginning to fall into place. What was that English word?
'Eureka!'
***
The Present.
Ryouga relaxed in the seat; folding his ticket into the pocket in front of him. It had taken an extraordinary amount of luck getting to the first plane. He had wandered into an airport, and after two days had managed to find a flight to Hong Kong. Luckily, the airport had been built on an artificial island, minimizing even his chances of wandering off course. It had taken another two days of non-stop walking and searching (and avoiding getting arrested) before he found a flight to Japan. It wasn't Tokyo, but it would get him close to home - which was what mattered. To a Hibiki, being a hundred miles from home or being one mile hardly made a difference, the chance of finding the place was the same. It was by necessity that the family had literally thousands of frequent flier miles to their credit, and that Ryouga had been able to cancel and recover the money from the flights he missed.
He was flying coach, so the meal wasn't exactly very good, but compared to what his stomach could handle (Akane's cooking) and what his taste buds were used to, it was still one of the better tasting meals he'd had over the last week. Sighing, the lost boy looked out of the window at the rolling ocean below. Contrary to what many believed, Ryouga did indeed know geography. On a broad scale, he knew both a great deal about different parts of the world, a lot of it from first hand experience, though, to date, he'd never ended up anywhere as exotic as Africa or South America. The farthest off course he'd been was somewhere around Berlin, in Europe, shortly after first getting his curse at Jyusenkyou, which had subsequently taken him to North America, and from there to the Philippines and then finally to Japan. He'd touched on the Near Middle East once during this trip, though not for very long. Thinking back, his mind clear of actually finding the places, he went over this last adventure in futility and escapism.
Or was it simply a form of self-imposed penance?
"No matter." He decided on, as the man sitting next to him shifted slightly while reading his newspaper. Ryouga closed his eyes, and traced his steps. After his little... situation, he'd hitched a ride on a ship to South Korea. He'd tried to get back then, but ended up sneaking (see: stumbling) across the border into North Korea, almost being shot to hell in the attempt. Growling, Ryouga admitted it wasn't the first time he'd ended up going through the ol' DPRK, and it probably wouldn't be the last either. It was one of the few countries he'd ended up in more than once in which he had to actually watch out for military patrols attacking him in the night. He'd hit the larger People's Republic next, Ryouga wasn't totally sure exactly when he'd crossed the border, but mainly stuck to the cities and ended up going south; he could see that now. It'd undoubtedly been the longest, hardest part of the journey.
He'd trailed an American Tour group for a day, blending in by speaking English, and had gotten through Xian and back on track south before he ended up in Mongolia, which was both a good thing and a bad thing. Cities were, for a Hibiki, a lot easier to get lost in than the forests and jungles of the world, but on the other hand, it was a lot easier to get a general idea of where you were when there were signs and other people around. He'd been aiming for Jyusenkyou, in Quinghai, and the chance of a cure, but obviously missed it entirely.
"Big surprise there," he said softly and let out an exasperated sigh. The rest, after China, was a maze of unending jungles, except for Thailand and Burma - Ryouga knew he'd been there. Thailand because he'd studied some Muay Tai Boxing, and spent an extra few days there, and Burma because someone there had out and said he was in 'Myanmar.' Then he'd ended up in a mountain range that was obviously the Himalayas. He'd never entered India proper, at last not to his knowledge, but he had spend a lot of time Bakusai Tenketsu'ing through mountains and the like and perfecting his more destructive techniques, so it was hard to tell. There'd been plains and deserts, eventually, and at that point Ryouga knew he'd begun to make really good time. Without water to worry about, or other distractions, he'd simply picked a direction and WENT.
He'd crossed the Indus (Or some other big river) in a reed boat soon after, and the customs he'd seen made it obvious Pakistan had been next (He'd been shot at there, too). Here it got really tricky, because as a Hibiki, Ryouga had still covered a LOT of terrain and, he suspected, went in circles. It all seemed the same, but if he recalled correctly, and he usually did when relaxed and wasn't actually there, that he'd been through Afghanistan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, and maybe Kazakhstan. Iran, he knew he'd been to, because he'd passed through Tehran and seen a lot of the countryside. He'd ended up in Russia, which meant he'd passed through either the tip of Turkey or Azerbaijan, through Georgia, and into southern Russia. A very different route from the last time he was in China, after Jyusenkyou, when he'd veered north through Russian Siberia - mostly open land and forests, and made it to Europe with relatively little interference.
It'll be good to get back to Japan...
"Hey!" Ryouga turned from looking out the window to gently nudge the man sitting next to him. "We've been over water for a while now."
"What do you expect?" The man ruffled his paper and turned the page. "This is the overnight flight to Hawaii."
"..." Ryouga's armrest crumpled like tin foil, "H... Hawaii... aaaAAAAARRRGH!!!"
"Learning Curve"
Part I (v1.4)
by: J. Wagner
As the darkened sun slowly set, a cold wind blew through the city. Admiring his view over the buildings, if only in passing, a young man sighed, taking in the image. It would begin to snow soon, he knew, like a now instinctive warning claxon from deep within his subconscious. It was going to be biting, probably mixed with sleet... but it wouldn't be rain. And if it wasn't rain, weather was really of no concern to him. Shrugging the weight off his shoulders slightly, and adjusting his well work cloak, the man hissed a silent and foreign curse between his lips, and kept walking.
Shelter for the night would be preferable to simply keeping going, as he had the last two days, without sleep, especially in light of the coming storm. Checking the skyline, and the nearest buildings, he snarled. If he was where he suspected he was... which wasn't often correct... then he'd wandered more off course than normal. Finding what looked to be a somewhat knowledgeable passerby, he bowed his head slightly in deference, and took an educated guess as to the appropriate language.
"Excuse me, but where am I now? Which city?"
The man paused, giving the questioning man in the heavy wool cloak and oversized backpack a disbelieving look. He was, obviously, a foreigner due to the accent, though his grasp of the language was excellent. But, how could anyone not know where, at least generally, they were? Briefly toying with the idea that this was some kind of practical joke or the like, the man finally decided to play along, and shrugged.
"Moscow. Why?"
"Moscow... that's what I was afraid of. This may sound unusual, but which way to Tokyo, Japan?"
The man pointed in the general direction of east, and answered, "East. That way."
The cloaked foreigner seemed serious, and lowered his head a bit more, letting dark, heavy bangs cascade over his eyes, obscuring them behind a veil of black. The wind kicked up again, and the ends of the stranger's orange and black themed bandanna flittered slightly over his tip of shoulder.
"Thank you."
There was a tangible feeling of depression and darkness, just then, prompting the man to dismiss any thoughts of this being a joke. Quickly excusing himself, he left the foreigner behind at an almost desperate pace. Watching him go, Hibiki Ryouga narrowed his eyes in silent, burning frustration. Heading east would have to wait until morning. He was still in mainland Asia... this came as both a relief and as a blow to his pride. How could he have wandered halfway to Europe and not known it?! Sure... the nights had been getting longer, and the terrain and weather colder. And the people...
Stupid stupid stupid!!
"Damn it," he finally decided on saying. Self-loathing, while a popular Hibiki pass-time, wasn't productive at the moment, either as a motivational factor, or simply as something to pass the time between time zones pondering over. He had to find shelter, and this far into Russia, only Rubles would do, no matter how devalued they were. The only other option being American currency, which he kept for emergencies because it was accepted almost everywhere, but the current exchange rate was a mystery, and Ryouga didn't like his chances of being cheated out of his backup cash.
"You're running away," hissed a small accusing voice, before being summarily ignored. So he walked, randomly, though the streets. The city had a vibrant nightlife that was, just now, coming out in numbers to dominate the alleys and streets of Moscow. Then, Ryouga saw it - a Dojo. Well... actually, it was a Systema Hall, going by the sign, only ten minutes away from closing. Challenging the master, traditionally, for a day's stay or some food was part and parcel of the mystique and lifestyle of the traveling martial artist. Far be it for him to pass up on such an opportunity.
Quickly deciding this was the best chance for some room and board he was going to get, Ryouga stepped inside, his eyes taking in the layout instantly; his stance adjusting slightly for any possible attacks from any of the remaining students. Adjusting his well-worn old traveling gloves, and smiling, Ryouga decided to stay a few days. He would absorb this Systema, and adapt any of it he liked to his own style... it would be useful when the time came for fulfillment.
And for revenge.
The battle was brief, and Ryouga decided to spend the next day observing the school's best students as they sparred. It was a welcome and productive distraction from the past... from the duel: from what passed for a life. As a lull in the action came, despite his best efforts, Ryouga felt his mind wander onto where it all went wrong. Or right, depending on one's point of view.
It had begun over a few months ago, back in Japan. He had returned to Nerima after two weeks of training, alone, in the mountains - the journey had been difficult, and the hardships great. It had been an emotional and physical peak, then, almost like a high. It had taken another week and a half; time wholly wasted, to get back to Tokyo, and by then...
Clenching his fist, Ryouga closed his eyes in shame.
By that time, Ranma had been training with Cologne in the Amaguriken. He hadn't had a chance, of course, so in retrospect his humiliation wasn't as great, but retrospective analysis never dulled the pain, or the anger, or the raw seething rage. If only... Ryouga stopped himself before that thought could complete itself. If the mind wanted to dip into that barrel of excuses, it may as well start with 'If only Ranma had showed up for our duel.' Or 'If only Ranma had... no, if only I had been more careful.' Or as far as 'If only I hadn't played as P-chan for so long.' It was, ultimately, a futile and fruitless exercise in frustration and anger; two things Ryouga knew he already had in terrible abundance. Still, Ryouga admitted, watching the students watching the sensei, did not a wise man say, 'Learn from the past?'
Damn him, if he wasn't right.
***
The Past
"I'm ready to go whenever you are," Ryouga said, shouldered his pack, and looked around the interior of the Nekohanten. The dinner crowd had long since left, and the place was empty, except for Shampoo, who seemed to be cleaning the café table. Cologne had told him to wait, and given his propensity for getting lost, and more importantly, his desire to avenge his earlier humiliation the results of which would undoubtedly lie in whatever the old bat had to teach, Ryouga wasn't eager to test his luck. The waiting and the silence weren't a problem, really; he was more than used to them - they were more like parents than his actual parents, wherever they were. The last he'd heard, his father thought his mother was somewhere in Australia, while he himself had business in New York.
"Where you and great grandmother going, anyway?"
"Eh?" The question came from the café, and Ryouga opened one eye, as if the speaker really needed visual confirmation. Shampoo asked again, before he answered, simply, honestly, "Training."
Ryouga paused, before adding, "To defeat Ranma."
"Stupid pig-boy never beat Airen."
"The old woman would only train me if she thought I had a chance of beating Ranma. You should know that," Ryouga returned. Ryouga's brows furrowed, as he bit back the anger, even if she was currently 100% right on the issue. Shampoo was conspicuously silent, so he decided to throw a little more in. "Besides. You're too weak to form an educated opinion. Ranma beat you by accident."
Shampoo visibly bristled, and a part of Ryouga instantly regretted saying that, not because she was angry, which was just the reaction he'd hoped to provoke, but because he was sure she was hurt, too. It wasn't like he had a problem with Shampoo, he was just feeling particularly short tempered and eager to snap at someone. He didn't know her very well, but it was likely her Amazon pride was still hurting from that little incident Ranma had shared with him and the rest of the Tendo Clan. In a way, he really pitied the girl, especially after the way Ranma had tricked her into leaving soon after she'd shown up.
Ryouga could literally feel her glare on him, but ignored it when the faint tap-tap of Cologne's walking (hopping?) stick signaled the ancient Amazon's entrance. Soon, he would begin training in the Amaguriken technique. He would defeat Ranma and... and... and after that, he wasn't sure. Maybe Akane...
'No.' He reprimanded himself. 'Stay focused! Focus, damn it!'
Pushing off from the wall with his shoulders, eyes still closed, he was silent and let none of his thoughts betray him. Cologne watched him adjust the pack on his shoulders with practiced ease and go through some unknown mental preparations.
"Watch the store while we're gone, Shampoo," she spoke over her shoulder. "I'll only be gone a week or so."
"You really going train lost boy?" Shampoo, still angry over being called 'weak,' decided to press the issue. "He probably get lost on way there."
Ryouga growled under his breath, and Shampoo continued, "Shampoo come, too. Help keep lost boy not lost. Training trip make up for lost plane tickets."
More importantly, Shampoo thought to herself, was to learn whatever he was going to learn. It wouldn't do for people to go around thinking she was weak.... Besides, if Ryouga thought that of her, Ranma probably did too.
"I don't need your help!" The lost boy in question snarled.
"A fine idea, Shampoo," Cologne said in a neutral tone, "Get your things. We can wait a few minutes."
"She won't get in the way, will she?" Ryouga asked, after waiting a few seconds for Shampoo to leave the room. He didn't need to add that he was referring to the inevitable fight between Ranma and himself. He had seen Shampoo doting over Ranma before, and it had interrupted their skirmishes previously. This one was the most important to date - taking Shampoo along was a risk he wasn't keen on taking.
"Are you saying you'd be unable to deal with that?" Cologne answered in a roundabout way, and Ryouga huffed in obvious dismissal. The ancient Amazon smiled at that. A poke at male pride could accomplish more than a thousand blows to the cranium... in most cases. Taking Shampoo along was actually looking more and more like a good idea: she would provide additional motivation. Ryouga had as much pride as her son-in-law, and he would do anything to avoid looking weak in front of any girl, even one he had no connection to, like Shampoo. Furthermore, Shampoo could cook; freeing her from having to do so, and it might even encourage her great granddaughter to rededicate herself to the Arts of her tribe.
Shampoo was an excellent and skilled warrior, the finest of her generation, but Cologne had noticed an obvious and disturbing dip in her skills since she left the village to pursue the pig-tailed girl who was actually a pig-tailed boy. Almost certainly, it was due to her reversal from revenge to love, and the lack of any serious opponent in that respect. Tendo Akane was nowhere near skilled or strong enough to fight Shampoo and win, additionally Shampoo had given up trying to kill Ranma, and as a consequence, by the time she returned home in disgrace, her skills had atrophied to the level they were at when she turned 15, well over a year ago. The training at Jyusenkyou had been essentially a disaster, and had cemented Shampoo's decision to 'cut down' on Cologne's recommended training regimen in favor of returning to court Ranma, for which additional fighting skills were unnecessary.
Worse was the Mousse situation. Damn that male... Cologne knew he was fast, skilled, and strong enough to defeat Shampoo, and had been for a little over two years, but he refused to do so. Her dislike for him had only developed after she realized that he could beat Shampoo, but never did so. It was a terrible insult, both to Shampoo and to herself, that could not be ignored. His showing up recently only made things worse. Shampoo, of course, felt she could defeat him in battle, should the opportunity arise, and worked to drive home her determination NOT to improve herself. Cologne would have cursed silently at the situation, and almost did on occasion, because there was no easy solution to the problem.
What Shampoo needed was an appropriate rival, something to motivate and encourage her to mature, but Cologne had no idea where to find one.
***
The Present
"Saotome! Prepare to DIE!"
"Aw, geez, man! Not again!" The martial artist in question, well acquainted with that particular battle cry, jumped to the side as the ground beneath him splintered and cracked. Twisting, he faced the young man crouched below him, one hand's clenched fingers dug into the broken asphalt, and the other behind his back. Fluidly, as he stood up, the boy drew out a long, wide bladed weapon Ranma had become altogether too familiar with over the last few weeks. The razor's edge of the giant spatula caught the light as the weapon's wielder smirked, and lowered into a modified crouch, one hand forward.
"Time to pay for your crimes, Saotome!"
"I'm getting sick and tired of you attacking me!" Ranma landed easily on the top of a nearby building. "What's your problem, anyway?"
"You'll find out..." The boy hissed between clenched teeth, and took to the air, "Right before I send you to HELL!"
Ranma growled something under his breath, before rolling backwards and avoiding losing his head to the unusual weapon. Keeping mobile, he pushed off with his shoulder at the first opportunity. Looking over to the side, only for a half second, he saw the still quivering handle of a mini-spatula wedged cleanly halfway into one of the roof's tiles where he had been headed prior to his misdirection. Spinning in midair, arms out, he then deflected the next of the projectiles, and pined down Ukyou's position where he was quickly readying another of the things. Letting his inertia carry him, he extended his right leg - hoping to end it this quickly was probably foolish, but a protracted fight now, this early in the morning, would make the rest of the day a real hassle.
A wall of steel seemed to disagree.
Landing on both feet, Ranma lowered his arms from the block, silently cursing at the pain before dismissing it. Ukyou stood, his giant spatula held in a post-strike pose, before quickly shifting into a cross-handle attacking position. Ranma braced himself; he always used that position to attack with his main weapon - in a way, it was like fighting Kuno, except Ukyou was as skilled without his blade as with. Making a split second decision to move in quick, and try to disarm him, Ranma ducked at the last second, spun, and dug a sharp elbow into his opponent, before reaching up and grabbing the handle of the weapon itself.
"Ha!" He felt a rush of confidence and power, as he gave the weapon a hard jerk. Ukyou was good, but not as strong as he was - the other boy had no hope of winning now. He might as well give up and leave. Bringing up his left leg to block a counter blow, Ranma amended that, and returned one of his own, catching the boy in the lower ribs. Ukyou gave a snarl, and another tug at the weapon, before seemingly closing his eyes in defeat.
A moment of pity came and went, before Ranma forcibly reminded himself that Ukyou wasn't his friend anymore. Looking down at the angry young man, he wondered just what had happened to turn Uuchan into this state. Sure, Ranma had stolen food from them, but Ukyou's father never saw it as anything too serious. It was just training! He even encouraged it! Maybe... the secret sauce? He had ruined that, but it was an accident, and no reason to go all blood-eyed vengeance on an old friend.
Still... maybe there was a chance things could be set right.
"Good! Now give me the..." Ranma's voice became a squeak, as a fist buried itself in a very... intimate part of his anatomy. Before he could regain his bearings, he was airborne. The world was spinning, but everything came into crystal clarity as his back made best friends with a dozen roof tiles. Aside from that, the pigtailed martial artist only wished that damn ringing in his ears would clear up.
"Give you... what you deserve, Ranma?" Ukyou reversed his spatula in his hands, leveling the sharpened edge to Ranma's body. "Don't mind if I do!"
And then the roof gave out.
Ranma hit the ground with a thud; his attacker recovered instantly and landed soundlessly on both feet. A tense second passed, and Ukyou blinked at the two elderly people who had been having tea in their living room.
"Um... hi?" Ukyou said, unsure.
Ranma, however, would not be ignored, and a split second after the words left Ukyou's mouth, his feet took their place, sending the martial artist up and out of the hole in the roof. Ukyou knew what was next - she was in the air, and the air was indisputably Ranma's domain. The panic came quickly, and left just as quickly. Reorientation identified where the ground was, and it was close. Then, without preamble, the blows rained down to the chorus of...
"Kachuu Tenshi Amaguriken!"
Ukyou hit the hard ground on her side, fighting back the urge to pass out, and looked up. Ranma was standing above her, hurt and angry, yes, but to her eyes: mostly gloating and arrogant. This battle was over, and they both knew it. Silence would have been preferable - the silence of the humble victor, but that thought died as Ranma's mouth curved into a smile, and the inevitable left his lips. "Why do you keep doing this, anyway? I always win."
'What point is there?' Went unspoken, but sufficiently implied.
"Liar! This is far from over!" Ukyou snarled, slowly getting back to her feet. The smile on Ranma's face faded like cheap ink in the ocean, and Ukyou knew, then, that though the battle had been lost, the war was only beginning. ...That there would be a reckoning.
What point was there? What else: to SPITE him!
"You don't know what you're talking about." Came the response from the heir to the Saotome School.
"You are a liar and a thief. And this isn't over, Saotome. Not by a long shot! I will have my revenge, even if it takes me another ten years!" Ukyou stepped back, over the edge of the roof, and was gone. Seeing him go, Ranma winced at the pain from this last encounter - he'd NEVER expected another guy to do that to him, even in a fight. What kind of a man hit below the belt, anyway?
"What the hell happened to you, Ukyou?" Ranma spoke far too softly for anyone to hear, turned, and made himself scarce.
The landing had been hell, but Ukyou shrugged off the pain. Brushing a hand by her side, she checked to make sure that nothing was broken, and didn't hide her relief when she found no permanent damage. It was small compensation for her defeat; she HAD the bastard... then she had gotten distracted. And, a small part of her whispered, she had hesitated. It was probably natural, and truthfully, she knew that she would when the time came, but it was unnerving nonetheless. How could more than ten years of toil and work end in her standing over him and then ignoring the momentousness of the moment to talk to two old people?
"Stupid." She leaned against the front door of 'Ukyou's Bar and Grill.' The whole thing was stupid...
"Hmm?" She blinked at the mailbox, standing impassively in front of the door. Shrugging, she reached in and was rewarded by a handful of papers and a single package, most of which were dismissed after a half-second review. She kept the phone bill separate - she'd check that one more carefully later - and the second to last one. Staring at it for a second, looking over all the stamps and the strange writing on the otherwise plain brown-wrapped package, she wavered between opening it outright, or waiting.
Grinning, she tucked it under her arm.
She had a call to make first.
***
The Past.
Ryouga fell to the ground a crumpled, crushed heap. The battery acid tang of blood was, by now, a familiar taste in his mouth, but he spat it out nonetheless. Gasping, he decided a little humor wouldn't hurt.
"Out with the old... ugh... in... in with..."
'Damn. I really wanted to finish that sentence, too,' he thought, as his body somehow found the strength to roll over onto its back. High above, mockingly, that damn boulder swayed back and forth. Dotting it like streaks of new age paint were blotches of blood, the newer ones a dark crimson in the cold night air, the older ones from yesterday a shade of black. Ryouga saw a sick timeline in those splatters of himself high above. Were they a testament to his determination... or his stupidity?
See the Breaking Point with your mind, not your eyes.
At least his memory was intact.
Closing his eyes, Ryouga only saw the last few hours, over and over again. Silently, he hoped that his dreams wouldn't be like this, despite the fact that he knew better. Every impact he had dared to close his eyes on, to try and ignore, to try and shy from, would come back and haunt him a hundredfold when he slept. And they would keep coming until he no longer feared that barely audible whine, that creek in the ropes holding them both above the ground, and that sudden 'pop' of air right before several tons of solid rock tried to turn you into gut jam.
It was then that he realized it.
"H... h... hungry!"
The woods didn't seem to care, so Ryouga silently cursed them to hell (They can join Saotome there, as far as he was concerned). While he was on that subject, he carefully pointed out and documented, for future reference, everything in a ten-mile radius that would also be cursed to hell. Foremost among them that damn boulder, that damn old Ghoul, and that worthless amaz...
"You hungry?"
'Kami bless you, Shampoo,' Ryouga thought as he coughed, to try and get his voice back. Standing over him, he saw Shampoo: she wasn't dressed as flamboyantly as usual, or even in the traveling clothes she had worn yesterday. Replacing all that was a simple black shirt (though it had some odd white dots on it here and there) and pants. He also noted that she didn't offer her hand to help him up.
"Very hungry, yes," he grumbled, and then rolled back, fluidly, onto his feet and into an upright standing position. The pain was rapidly fading, as his body and his ki went to work subconsciously. He knew, from experience, that, by morning, after some food - almost any food (he was used to living on dry rations and instant noodles once every two days) he would be ready to begin anew the torture and masochism of learning the Bakusai Tenketsu.
"Is good. Come with me, no get lost."
She turned, and he followed. It was a short walk, relatively, into the clearing where the Amazons had made camp. There was a stream running by with fish, and Ryouga growled inwardly at it. Mornings he spent trying to increase his speed and hand-eye coordination trying to catch the fish without getting wet. It was totally infuriating, especially after his curse activated for the fortieth time earlier in the day. In a way, he preferred the physical pain of that damn boulder slamming into him than the simple and undeniable frustration of the river.
Ignoring the water, something the Jyusenkyou cursed would consider akin to ignoring a snarling beast on your front porch, Ryouga took in the rest of the camp. It was plush, given what he was used to. The old ghoul wasn't around, but who knew what that dried up old woman did with her time anyway? His pack was lying against a large rock, where he had left it earlier, providing a quick sense of relief that it hadn't been lost. Some days, it seemed like he lost that backpack a dozen times a week.
There was also a large fire crackling, filling the area with a gentle glow, and a large metal pot over it promising that at least something was cooked and ready. No hunting for him - good thing, too, with the intensity of his training regimen and his directional problems. Idly, he realized he had no idea what time it was, and then dismissed it. Time here was relative anyway. Sitting down in front of the fire, Ryouga felt a sense of calm and serenity, and savored it - it was such a rare feeling, simply to let the body and the tension melt away.
"What a day!" He inhaled deeply, and smelt the food. Sighing, he did so again as Shampoo handed him a bowl.
"Is plain ramen," she said, simply.
"It... it smells good, Shampoo. Thank you." Ryouga gave a weak smile, before beginning to eat. It may have been plain ramen, but it was good. It was only about five seconds into eating that he realized he hadn't checked to make sure it wasn't drugged. He regretted it at first, given what he'd heard about the unscrupulous Amazon and some of what he'd witnessed, then paused before he said anything. Shampoo seemed to be eating it herself from her own bowl without any hesitation, so, in one of his brighter moments, Ryouga kept quiet and decided if the food was drugged, he'd just end up drugged.
Seconds, and thirds followed in short order by the time Shampoo had finished her first helping. Ryouga didn't then, or before, consider himself greedy - one simply got what food one could, when one could, regardless. To his exhausted body it was as matter of survival now, as it was back when... back when he had showed up to the school cafeteria, broken and hungry, so often back in his younger days. He hadn't nearly been as good back then at hunting, salting, and preserving meats as he was now. Then, there was just the hunger, the food, and Ranma.
"Curse you, Ranma." He couldn't help but growl, but kept it low. No need to make Shampoo protective... if she attacked him in his current state, it wouldn't be pretty. It also wouldn't be good for his training schedule.
"Hmm? What lost boy say?" She looked up from the empty pot, obviously a little annoyed, and just as obviously (except to Ryouga) a little pleased that, for once, someone ate her food without asking if it was drugged, or if it came with favors attached. That kind of stuff was probably just the domain of that crazy Kuno girl, and Akane's mercenary older sister, at least in Shampoo's limited worldview. Ryouga seemed a little nervous, before inching back against the truck of a tree and relaxing notably.
"Nothing." He sighed, and closed his eyes. "Goodnight, Shampoo. ...Thanks again for the food."
Shampoo just blinked, once, and shook her head.
"Stupid lost boy."
***
The Present.
Inside the restaurant, at the grill, Ukyou checked the clock for the third time. Looking over the remaining people in the place - only two couples staying late after eating, given the lateness of the hour - she relaxed. The stove was cold now, but she wasn't in 'disguise,' and had let her hair down and dressed in her much more comfortable cooking clothes. Ranma had, about a week ago, walked in on her like this and asked if 'Ukyou had a sister?' He hadn't shown his face here since, for obvious reasons. The memory still boiled her blood, and she shook it off with practiced ease. Her 'brother' would take it out on the pig-tailed brat tomorrow. So absorbed in alternating thoughts of vengeance and annoyance, Ukyou hadn't noticed Shampoo until she was right in front of the grill.
"Hey! Spatula-girl!"
Ukyou sighed in annoyance at the name. "About time you showed up, beachball-girl."
Shampoo smirked. "You were calling me, not other way around. What this surprise, Ukyou?"
"I got a package. Thought you'd like to open it when I do, sugar."
"Package from Lost-boy?" Shampoo shook her head a bit. "From Ryouga, yes?"
"Yep. You haven't been practicing your Japanese, have you? You know if you just registered and went to school...."
"Shampoo doing fine on her own! Maybe you try speak fluent mandarin in less than two months. See how good you do."
"Mousse did it," Ukyou added, deciding to have some fun with the Chinese girl.
"Stupid Mousse." Shampoo ended the subject then and there. Ukyou shrugged, reached behind the counter, and took out a medium sized plain brown-paper package. It was, however, covered in a number of stamps most of which looked totally foreign to both girls. The return address wasn't even in anything recognizable. Taking one of her mini-spatulas, Ukyou opened it carefully. There were three smaller boxes, all neatly laid out, also wrapped, and on top of that, a single folded postcard.
"Is definitely from Ryouga," Shampoo said, and Ukyou just nodded. Ryouga was one of the neatest and most organized people either girl had ever seen - he somehow knew where everything in that massive pack he carried was, and it was a miracle of topography that he was able to fit everything in there in the first place. Shampoo reached down and picked up the postcard. It was a picture of Ryouga, leaning casually on his newest red umbrella, in front of a line of large gray-green tanks of some sort. A building with twisting spires dominated the background.
"Wow. Lost boy really lost this time."
"Open it," Ukyou urged. She knew Shampoo couldn't read perfect Japanese, and she also knew better than to say so. Deciding quickly, Ukyou started reading out loud.
"Ukyou, Shan Pu, I hope this letter finds you both in good health and high spirits. Ukyou, I hope you've been giving Saotome back at least some fraction of the Hell he has inflicted on both of us while keeping yourself safe. I wish I could be there to watch you fight him, but I can only hope that your training prepared for the task at hand, and that you are still able to take out your vengeance on his worthless hide. Remember to watch out for his tricks! He'll do anything, say anything, to win! Shan Pu, I hope Mu Tzu hasn't been annoying you as much now, and that those books I got will help you become more comfortable speaking in Japanese. You know I also wish you luck in whatever you chose to do, even if it revolves around that damn rat bastard Ranma, and even if I fear it will only bring you heartbreak. But please, try and keep the poisons and potions to a minimum - such is not the way of a martial artist. If either of you are curious, I am currently in --scratched out-- St. Petersburg. At least that's what the guy here told me. Anyway, if this isn't St. Petersburg, then I suppose you won't get this package. IF you get this package, which you must have to be reading this, then that means I was in St. Pete's... yeah, that makes sense. I seem to be steadily heading west... I think, and this damn compass you got me ('I got him,' Ukyou points out.) doesn't seem to be helping that much. I'm going to try and catch a plane to Hong Kong again, and after that on to Tokyo. Wish me luck. And inside you'll find some things I thought the two of you might like. Sincerely, Hibiki Ryouga."
Ukyou added, "PS: 'Damn it! This is all Ranma's fault!'"
"Shampoo see what he got her!" Shampoo picked out one of the little boxes labeled 'Shan Pu' in mandarin, and opened it with gusto. Ryouga sent them stuff every few weeks, and it was always a surprise what they got. Back in the village, when she was young, Shampoo had gotten New Year's presents, and usually something on her birthday, but that had ended ten years ago. Ripping away the paper, she ended up with a small box, the clear cover displaying some sort of computer.
"It's a beeper," Ukyou said, matter-of-factly.
"Beeper?"
"Probably for your delivery routes. You know, it beeps, and you get a message from someone about stuff."
Shampoo expression spoke volumes... or the lack thereof.
"It can be pretty useful." Ukyou turned to her package, and opened it neatly. Inside were several vacuum-sealed cans of sturgeon caviar, and a note. "Roe Okonomiyaki?"
"Is delicacy," Shampoo stated the obvious.
"Could work, I guess. The lost boy has odd taste, it seems." Ukyou picked up the last package, and tested the weight: it was obviously a book, but was otherwise unlabeled. Tearing off the paper, Ukyou saw the title and quickly handed it to Shampoo, who looked at it for a second before speaking.
"Is Russian. No can read." She shook her head.
"Must be for his little collection here." Ukyou took it. "It'll put it with the two Indian ones and the one in... er..."
"Cantonese, if Shampoo remember correctly."
"Yeah. Cantonese." Ukyou put the book away, with the three others, in the back of the kitchen behind the grill. "You know what this means. He's actually trying to come back now. If he catches both planes... a virtual impossibility, I know, but if he does, he could be here in a week."
"If only one, probably three weeks," Shampoo said and sighed. "Stupid lost boy."
"He can't wander Asia forever. Sooner or later he'll get lucky and walk onto a ship or plane or something." Ukyou closed her eyes. "He always gets to where he wants to go... eventually."
***
The Past.
"Again!" Cologne demanded, her voice stern.
Ryouga snarled in acceptance, ignoring his own nudity, concentrating instead on the water. His fingers itched, oddly, as did the muscles in his arms. Quickly, the fast flowing current resolved into slow motion - the slow motion the world took on when there was just survival and the fight. When the center was found, and the rest of the universe devolved into another frame of mind. Leaning forward, Ryouga's fists became streaks of motion, plunging into the water faster than the eye could see, as down below, the fish just began to panic and scatter at the intrusion. Their movements were like molasses, however. The challenge was three fold, the first being the coordination required to catch the fish without getting wet, the second being to hold onto the fish and maintain a grip, again, without getting wet, and the third being to drop the fish behind him while still maintaining this level of speed.
Before him, the water parted. Narrowing his eyes, Ryouga trust his flattened palm again into the swirling vortex that was in front of him. Droplets of water hung in the air, like an explosion of diamonds. Mentally, Ryouga tracked them, even as he let his instincts guide his hands through areas of already parted water, widening his palms ever so slightly when needed to open new tunnels that would only last half a second each. The fatigue, too, was looming over his body like a specter, alternating between telling him to give up and urging to rest. Of the two arguments, the second was, Ryouga knew, by far the most deadly and dangerous. A rest, now, however tempting, would ruin everything...
Then, the tingle began in the base of his spine, and he cursed mentally.
He'd lost.
"Bwee!" The pig shook its head. Over him, though not much (she's pretty damn short) Cologne sighed, emptying the kettle over him. Hooves grew into hands, and the tiny pig expanded into the form of a man, the yellow and black bandanna shifting during the transformation from neck and shoulders to forehead.
"Damn it all," Ryouga said and slumped over, hands carving furrows in the ground. "I just... can't do it!"
"The kettle's empty," Cologne replied, confirming what he had already suspected, and Ryouga slowly nodded. She turned; giving him one last glance that sent sick shivers up the back of the boy's neck, before hopping off. Shaking some of the water from his head, Ryouga quickly toweled himself off, and with all too practiced ease, got changed. His clothes, at least, were dry. After the first day, Cologne had simply suggested he take them off during this part of his training. It had been embarrassing, naturally, and Ryouga had refused at first... but in the end, it made sense. And, given that he'd undergone well over thirty transformations in the last two hours, it was also more convenient.
He paled when he remembered that Cologne had also offered to strip down to make him more 'comfortable.'
"Ugh. Old hag," he grumbled, wringing out his bandanna, the one item of clothing he kept on. Letting out a deep breath, he waited, and let his strength return. It was noon, and Shampoo would come in a minute or two to make sure he didn't get lost. Looking down at his hands, he made a fist and realized the tingling was quickly fading away. He'd need to actually hit Ranma to finish him with the Bakusai Tenketsu...
"Wait!" Ryouga paused at that thought: Point A slowly but surely made its way to C, and found B in-between. "Why would that ancient harpy be teaching me a technique that would destroy her beloved son-in-law? There's something else I'm missing here..."
"Nihao!" Ryouga heard from behind, as Shampoo leaned over his shoulder. "Lost boy always talk to self?"
"There usually isn't anyone else around to carry a conversation with." Ryouga stood up, eager for what was to come. "And it's 'Hibiki Ryouga.' Or just Ryouga. Not lost boy."
"You lost all the time." Shampoo stated as she walked, and Ryouga started stammering a half-hearted denial. "You boy. You lost boy."
"Fine. Be that way uh... Chinese... um... girl." Ryouga waved it off, not caring anymore. "Ah, never mind. What's for lunch?"
Shampoo headed off through some bushes, opening up to the campsite, and Ryouga followed. "Pork buns."
"P...P... pork buns?" He exclaimed, shocked.
"You no like pork?"
Ryouga raised a questioning eyebrow. "Do you like cat?"
Shampoo seemed to think about that for a second, before answering. "Never eaten cat. Wouldn't know."
"That's not... I mean..." Ryouga sat in front of the plate, looking at the two steaming, and delicious smelling and looking items of culinary preparation. "My curse is to turn into a pig, you know."
Shampoo didn't seem to follow. "Shampoo know this. So what?"
"You... remember when you tried to cook me?"
"And try serve you to Ranma, yes." Shampoo remembered, and noted that mentioning the pig-tailed martial artist caused Ryouga to flinch slightly. Either that or it was the memory of that event.
"That wasn't the first time it'd happened to me." Ryouga picked up one of the buns, his self-righteousness warring with his hunger. His voice remained cold, however, and he took a deep breath to calm himself. "Not by a long shot, Shampoo. I've come close to dying in my cursed form... close to being eaten... so many damn times. You wouldn't understand the horror... the... the inhumanity of being treated like potential food by other people."
Shampoo was silent. She was bordering on asking if he wanted something else, when he closed his eyes and took a bite out of the first of the buns. As he ate, slowly, his bangs fell over his face, obscuring his eyes. Between mouthfuls, he sighed, his voice still low and cold. "Sorry...."
"Why sorry? Shampoo should be sorry," Shampoo asked as he looked up at her, dark green eyes distant.
"You didn't know it was me. No one ever does." He looked back down. "Not that it makes much of a difference. It would be nice being a cat... unless I ended up in North Korea again. It wouldn't matter what you turn into there."
He let out a quick chuckle, and Shampoo felt some relief as his mood lightened. He was dangerous, she knew from watching him fight Ranma before, but that wasn't it really - when he was like that... the depression and veiled anger was almost tangible. It was an emotional relief to have it dissipate somewhat, and she decided to try and encourage that, if for nothing else than her own mental well-being.
"Shampoo get caught once."
"Caught?" Ryouga looked up again, his mouth full.
"As stray cat." Shampoo took a quick bite out of one of the buns herself. "Taken to animal-prison. Have to escape. Not get home for days, because stuck as cat. Was scary, but kind of fun, too."
Ryouga noted her smile, and gave a small one himself. A memory like that would be just one more painful reminder of his curse, and the tragedy that always seeped into his life, but Shampoo seemed to be describing it as some kind of adventure. As something to remember, not try to forget. It was... an odd concept, but Shampoo didn't seem to live with depression much, despite the fact that she was, pretty much, somewhat of a loner. HHHe'd seen as much over the last few days. She trained, apparently, mainly by herself, and she didn't seem to talk to many people much. Mousse, from what he'd heard, she mainly smacked around and tried to get away from. Ranma, she was too busy glomping to carry a conversation with.
"Well." He scratched the back of his neck. "It's not like you wear a pink heart-shaped collar or identification or anything."
Shampoo laughed, and the two ate briskly. Ryouga finished his second bun quickly, and ignored his stomach's complaints for more. The Bakusai Tenketsu's training was next, and it wouldn't to for a full stomach of food to try and withstand the impacts he'd soon be receiving. A light lunch was preferable, and would tide him over until dinner. Idly, an earlier thought made it to his mouth.
"Shampoo... Are you training by yourself?"
"Plan on training with Lost Boy in mornings, but..." She trailed off, and Ryouga blushed a deep crimson.
"Yeah," he settled on, too nervous to continue.
"No can train with after, either. You always so weak and fall asleep after dinner." Shampoo also finished eating, and stood up. Ryouga noticed she was wearing similar clothes, except this shirt was red, and came to the conclusion that it was almost certainly what she trained in.
"I've got some time before ...Cologne comes and drags me off to dispatch." Ryouga shrugged. "I could give you a few pointers. ...You're not planning on attacking Akane, are you?"
"Shampoo already stronger than violent girl," Shampoo said and smiled.
Ryouga sighed.
"Alright. So... Hey!" The lost boy jumped back as a quick kick passed by his nose. Shampoo pulled her leg back and spun into a backhand that Ryouga saw coming, and avoided. Shampoo's attacks were strong, he knew, but not too quick in execution, and her style was actually fairly raw. It wasn't a surprise that Ranma, in girl form, had defeated her, back at her village. Ducking under another kick he pushed off with his toes, and landed softly half dozen feet away from the attacking Amazon. One thought still worried him.
"We're just practicing, right?" he asked, "No Joketsuzoku rules or laws or anything involved?"
"Great grandmother not around anyway."
Shampoo shrugged quickly, and moved in to attack. Ryouga pivoted at the last second, casually avoiding her fist. Her eyes caught his in that millisecond. Gone was the depression from before, or even the anger. Replacing it was a softer version of confidence that she had seen in Ranma's blue-gray eyes. Before she could try and counter, Ryouga's elbow softly tapped into the back of her head, just enough to feel it.
"Shampoo," he simply said, his voice professional and calm as he lowered his arm. "How much did your grandmother teach you?"
"Great grandmother," Shampoo corrected, and lowered her arms too. The spar was over. With full strength behind that elbow, Shampoo suspected her head would have looked like a splattered tomato. "She teach traditional weaponless and weapon armed fighting techniques. Shampoo best in village."
Ryouga was going to say it didn't say much for the village, but held his tongue. He'd taught Akane Martial arts Rhythmic Gymnastics before, and insults were rarely the right way to go about it. Unless they were really necessary, of course. Besides, Shampoo was really quite good. She was exceptionally strong, fast, and skilled. He was just... better.
"Anything else?" He asked, sensing there was more to it.
Shampoo thought about that before answering, "Few other special things. Bonbori weapon specialty. Broadsword techniques. Staff fighting. Martial Arts Pressure Points. Martial Arts Takeout..."
"Martial Arts Takeout?" Ryouga seemed obviously skeptical.
"Very similar to Martial Arts Masonry!"
"Martial Arts Masonry?!" Ryouga didn't hide his skepticism this time. ...Not that he really had last time, either.
"Is where Bakusai Tenketsu come from! Lost boy should at least know that!" Shampoo held up a finger. "Have attack called 'Blowout.' Destroys delivery when touch box."
Ryouga's eyes narrowed. Shampoo was concentrating a small amount of ki into her finger, just enough that he could feel it. Slowly, he smiled. Things were quickly beginning to fall into place. What was that English word?
'Eureka!'
***
The Present.
Ryouga relaxed in the seat; folding his ticket into the pocket in front of him. It had taken an extraordinary amount of luck getting to the first plane. He had wandered into an airport, and after two days had managed to find a flight to Hong Kong. Luckily, the airport had been built on an artificial island, minimizing even his chances of wandering off course. It had taken another two days of non-stop walking and searching (and avoiding getting arrested) before he found a flight to Japan. It wasn't Tokyo, but it would get him close to home - which was what mattered. To a Hibiki, being a hundred miles from home or being one mile hardly made a difference, the chance of finding the place was the same. It was by necessity that the family had literally thousands of frequent flier miles to their credit, and that Ryouga had been able to cancel and recover the money from the flights he missed.
He was flying coach, so the meal wasn't exactly very good, but compared to what his stomach could handle (Akane's cooking) and what his taste buds were used to, it was still one of the better tasting meals he'd had over the last week. Sighing, the lost boy looked out of the window at the rolling ocean below. Contrary to what many believed, Ryouga did indeed know geography. On a broad scale, he knew both a great deal about different parts of the world, a lot of it from first hand experience, though, to date, he'd never ended up anywhere as exotic as Africa or South America. The farthest off course he'd been was somewhere around Berlin, in Europe, shortly after first getting his curse at Jyusenkyou, which had subsequently taken him to North America, and from there to the Philippines and then finally to Japan. He'd touched on the Near Middle East once during this trip, though not for very long. Thinking back, his mind clear of actually finding the places, he went over this last adventure in futility and escapism.
Or was it simply a form of self-imposed penance?
"No matter." He decided on, as the man sitting next to him shifted slightly while reading his newspaper. Ryouga closed his eyes, and traced his steps. After his little... situation, he'd hitched a ride on a ship to South Korea. He'd tried to get back then, but ended up sneaking (see: stumbling) across the border into North Korea, almost being shot to hell in the attempt. Growling, Ryouga admitted it wasn't the first time he'd ended up going through the ol' DPRK, and it probably wouldn't be the last either. It was one of the few countries he'd ended up in more than once in which he had to actually watch out for military patrols attacking him in the night. He'd hit the larger People's Republic next, Ryouga wasn't totally sure exactly when he'd crossed the border, but mainly stuck to the cities and ended up going south; he could see that now. It'd undoubtedly been the longest, hardest part of the journey.
He'd trailed an American Tour group for a day, blending in by speaking English, and had gotten through Xian and back on track south before he ended up in Mongolia, which was both a good thing and a bad thing. Cities were, for a Hibiki, a lot easier to get lost in than the forests and jungles of the world, but on the other hand, it was a lot easier to get a general idea of where you were when there were signs and other people around. He'd been aiming for Jyusenkyou, in Quinghai, and the chance of a cure, but obviously missed it entirely.
"Big surprise there," he said softly and let out an exasperated sigh. The rest, after China, was a maze of unending jungles, except for Thailand and Burma - Ryouga knew he'd been there. Thailand because he'd studied some Muay Tai Boxing, and spent an extra few days there, and Burma because someone there had out and said he was in 'Myanmar.' Then he'd ended up in a mountain range that was obviously the Himalayas. He'd never entered India proper, at last not to his knowledge, but he had spend a lot of time Bakusai Tenketsu'ing through mountains and the like and perfecting his more destructive techniques, so it was hard to tell. There'd been plains and deserts, eventually, and at that point Ryouga knew he'd begun to make really good time. Without water to worry about, or other distractions, he'd simply picked a direction and WENT.
He'd crossed the Indus (Or some other big river) in a reed boat soon after, and the customs he'd seen made it obvious Pakistan had been next (He'd been shot at there, too). Here it got really tricky, because as a Hibiki, Ryouga had still covered a LOT of terrain and, he suspected, went in circles. It all seemed the same, but if he recalled correctly, and he usually did when relaxed and wasn't actually there, that he'd been through Afghanistan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, and maybe Kazakhstan. Iran, he knew he'd been to, because he'd passed through Tehran and seen a lot of the countryside. He'd ended up in Russia, which meant he'd passed through either the tip of Turkey or Azerbaijan, through Georgia, and into southern Russia. A very different route from the last time he was in China, after Jyusenkyou, when he'd veered north through Russian Siberia - mostly open land and forests, and made it to Europe with relatively little interference.
It'll be good to get back to Japan...
"Hey!" Ryouga turned from looking out the window to gently nudge the man sitting next to him. "We've been over water for a while now."
"What do you expect?" The man ruffled his paper and turned the page. "This is the overnight flight to Hawaii."
"..." Ryouga's armrest crumpled like tin foil, "H... Hawaii... aaaAAAAARRRGH!!!"