Ranma cursed the day he entered the Nyucheizu village. Though it had been years ago, that fateful day was still burned into his memory as the beginning of the insane spiral that his life had fallen into. Some would argue that falling into the Spring of Drowned Girl was the beginning, but that was merely the kick-start to the week from hell. As Ranma lay on a deck chair on the roof of the building, soaking in the sunlight of midday and wishing he wasn't covered in gore, he cast his mind back to what was arguably solid evidence that karma was punishing him for being Adolf Hitler in his past life.

XXX

"Pops, I swear that if we don't eat something soon, we're going to have roast panda for dinner!" If it looks like a panda, walks like a panda, and smells like a panda, it's probably a panda. Unless it's stealing your wallet, in which case it's definitely Genma Saotome. The furry beast walking next to Ranma cuffed the girl on the back of the head with one massive furry paw, not bothering to keep his claws sheathed as he did so. The neo-panda wasn't quite fast enough to dodge a left hook from his daughter, which knocked him back into a tree. Stars and little shogi pieces orbited his head at eye level, confusing the dazed man.

He allowed his long-term concerns to wash over his mind, occluding the pain with slowly growing panic. Ranma's current gender posed two problems, the more obvious being that he couldn't marry one of Soun's daughters in such a state. While Ranma was (hopefully) still male on the inside, there was no way Soun would hold to his part of the bargain if it came to marrying Akane, Nabiki or Kasumi to a girl. At the rate things were going, if they didn't starve to death in the wilderness of Qinghai province, the schools were never going to be united! A tear of sadness escaped his eye, in no way related whatsoever to the chain of chamber punches Ranma was firing into his gut.

The other was far more insidious, and the mere thought of it sent phantom pain through Genma's belly as an imaginary katana ripped his intestines to bloody shreds. Nodoka Saotome was hardly a martial artist by any standards; even her once-great skills with a kodachi had deteriorated over the years. However, she was still the greatest stickler for family, tradition, and bushido he'd ever met. It was part of why he'd married her… because if their parents hadn't engaged them, Nodoka wouldn't have touched Genma with a ten-foot pole. Their child was the only source of joy for the both of them, and when Genma asked to take a training trip with the young Ranma, Nodoka was understandably reluctant.

To alleviate her fears, Genma had drawn up a crude document explaining that he would return his son as a perfect 'man amongst men,' vague enough that all parties would be satisfied in the end, barring something catastrophic. Unfortunately, turning a man-among-men into a girl, of all things, fell squarely into that category. He was, without a doubt, fucked. And not in the 'hello honey, it's been a decade,' sort of way, either.

"Pops!" Ranma roared, enraged that Genma wasn't even giving her attention while she beat the stuffing out of him. The rotund martial arts master casually belted Ranma backwards, the blow using all of his strength in the absence of mentally monitoring his power. "You're getting lazy, boy," he sneered in his mind, but out loud he growled something unintelligible. Ranma mumbled incoherently and passed out, her head buried in a tree trunk.

Genma regarded her with a faint feeling of disgust, but the smell of something delicious reached his heightened sense of smell. Desperately hungry from scavenging inadequate meals in the forest, the panda left Ranma to recover by herself and followed his nose. The tree branches whipped back and forth as he lumbered towards the tantalizing scent, but they hardly bothered him in the throes of starvation. He burst from the trees into a grassy clearing at a dead run, the grass and dirt crunching into deep pawprints beneath his heavy stride. Not one to question a buffet of meat and fruits left on a table in the middle of nowhere, the panda launched himself at the table headfirst and literally buried himself in perfectly prepared food. It resembled a dream of his he'd had several times over the past few years. Now all he needed was Nodoka wearing some lingerie…

Ranma trailed after her father at a distance, rubbing her forehead and swearing heavily. Her eyebrow was bleeding down her face, staining one sheer bright red, and the middle of her forehead was bruising a nice sort of fuchsia. Lovely colour, when it wasn't your face. She grunted and searched in her pockets for bandages, but none were forthcoming. The news somehow made the pain even worse, adding to the constant throbbing of the scar on her left forearm and an ache in her vagina that refused to go away. Ranma was used to the former, and could bear the split skin, but the latter scared her. She was reasonably scared of pretty much anything that reminded her of her new gender, and it just had to be pain, the way her luck ran.

A few minutes later, Ranma stumbled out into the clearing after her dad with one hand pressed against her forehead and a wicked headache coming on. Not to mention the roaring pain from not eating well for the last few days, and the neo-girl was reaching her breaking point. Vastly annoyed, she pulled a thorn from her inner thigh and toughed the pain as her skin was shredded by the remorseless edge. A vein in her temple began to swell with blood, lending her face a nervous twitch. Ranma was on the verge of breaking into hysterical laughter and simply smashing her way out of the forest Ryoga-style, when the sounds of unmitigated gluttony reached her.

Genma was swimming in a pile of food that reached up to his shoulders, the table it had previously rested on broken into splinters by the weight of a wild panda slamming into it with all its weight. Her dad's massive jaw stopped crunching as he caught sight of Ranma staring at him with a decidedly dangerous glint in her eye, and he nervously waved the drumstick in a gesture Ranma recognized well, and oddly enough hardly looked out of place on a panda.

"Whatever t-the hell th-this is, old man, I-I'm gonna'-" Ranma began, but was interrupted by a thrown weapon whizzing past her face. It narrowly missed the tip of her nose and continued on to bury itself in a tree up to a crudely carved hilt. Ranma blinked, once in shock and once in anger, and slowly turned to face the offending party in the opposite direction. She wore a pair of red overalls and a tight purple shirt that hugged her breasts and showed off the raised lines of a sports bar underneath. A pair of wide metal spheres were tucked into her belt, as well as several wood-handled bowie knives. She wore no shoes, had dark purple hair, her right hand was extended in a completed throw, and her face was contorted into a furious snarl. As soon as Ranma looked at her she burst into rapid-fire Mandarin shouting, less than half of which was understood.

Ranma's expression of anger morphed into one of disbelief. The Chinese girl was in full-rant mode now, screaming Cantonese obscenities and gesturing at the collapsed table that was no longer piled quite so high with food. As she raged, the girl pointed first at the food, then herself, then the confused martial artist before her. Ranma took a second to put it together, then she too was filled with anger. "That was my pops!" she shouted back, interrupting the other girl. The Chinese Amazon, probably for the first time, realized that there was a severe language barrier between them.

Ranma sighed in exasperation and held up one hand. She waved her hand to indicate trying again, then cleared her throat. "This one not do… this," she explained as best she could. She hadn't put any time into studying the Chinese language, but you had to pick some up after three years abroad. The other girl raised an eyebrow in arrogant disbelief, but Ranma soldiered on. "Was father. Fat man, look like panda," she said, remembering the word from the name of the Jusenkyo spring that had befallen the bespectacled man. "He eat food and…" Ranma cast around, but it seemed that Genma was employing his bastardized shinobi training to disappear.

The other fighter shook her head in amusement. "It doesn't matter if it was or wasn't," she said, slow enough for Ranma to understand. "You are his daughter, his crimes fall to you. This was my prize, and you have stolen it!"

"Prize?" Ranma asked, confused, and the other girl angrily waved at a lineup of bruised, battered and beaten girls lounging in the sun. A log suspended betwixt a pair of tree trunks by cable-like vines was covered in the barest traces of blood, and Ranma began to put the puzzle together. The food was the prize in some sort of competition that this girl just won, and Genma had righteously pissed her off by digging in. Whatever backwater city-state they'd wandered into probably had the death penalty for pretty much everything, too.

'Wait a minute…' she thought, a lemon-sucking grimace spreading across her face. "You win, yes?" she asked, and the other girl nodded in agreement. Ranma barked out a short laugh. "I challenge you!" she proclaimed, the phrase having it worn itself into her mouth in at least four languages. "I win, you give me food."

The girl eyed Ranma's starving frame and deduced that this starving waif was desperate for food of any kind, and would have likewise eaten mouldy bread as the coveted tournament prize. It would be merciful to defeat her quickly and send her packing with exactly that, and a malicious smirk crossed her features. "Agreed," she said, and bounded back onto the challenge log. Ranma walked leisurely, swiping a handful of lychee fruit while her back was turned. The redhead swung herself up to meet her buxom foe, mentally preparing herself to give every effort in pursuit of the prize, and also, hopefully, avoiding being lynched.

'This is going to be too easy,' the Amazon thought, drawing both chúi and settling into a long horse stance, one arm low and the other high. Ranma switched form her relaxed state to a high, mobile crane stance. She flipped her pigtail over one shoulder and, daring the other to strike first, spat at her feet. The warrior saw red and attacked, leaping forward with one knee raised, her warhammers outstretched, but Ranma ducked low to the log and shot forward as fast as she could, malnutrition combined with the exertion giving her vertigo. Nevertheless, Ranma managed to stay on the challenge log, and the twin hammers slammed into the musky wood on the other end. Their positions were reversed now, in more ways than one. They were now on opposite sides, and Ranma was on the offensive while the native teenager remained cautious.

"What are you-" she began to say, but Ranma shuffled forward and began firing jabs with her back hand to test her defenses. A mix of wushu and weaponry easily parried the attacks, though their sheer speed coupled with the fact that the redhead hadn't broken a sweat yet made the villager nervous. She spotted a gap in Ranma's flying fists and lashed out with a chúi for Ranma's head. The Japanese neo-girl blocked by chopping at her elbow, but enough force remained behind the blow to clip Ranma's temple and knock her silly. Ranma stumbled back, her fists pressed against her bleeding forehead and mumbling obscenities that made some of the more worldly leaders on the ground wince.

"Not so tough, are you?" the Chinese girl taunted, pleased that such a weak blow was hardy enough to score a telling hit. Ranma coiled her back leg like a spring and jumped forward, her forearms blocking her head while leaving both legs free to hammer kicks into the other fighter's chest and legs. She backed up carefully, allowing Ranma to expend her energy on futile attacks and wasted jibes that she could barely understand anyways. Then, Ranma flashed forwards and feinted at her chest. As she went to block, Ranma reversed the strike with such speed that she could hardly see it move and boxed her ear. Her vision quivering, the Chinese girl's hair was wound tightly around Ranma's fist. "Lessee how good ye' are up close!" Ranma spat, and proceeded to demolish the hapless girl with a devastating barrage of uppercuts and quarter punches that started inside both their guards and pushed all of the villager's limbs away while desensitizing sensitive targets like the kidneys and solar plexus to the damage.

After thirty seconds of curb-stomp, Ranma shoved the other girl away from her and casually started peeling a lychee's red skin off and dropping the peels on the ground. The lavender-haired fighter reeled back, her insides screaming in protest, and with a screech of defeat she fell to the ground, where she lay still. Two of her tribeswomen ran up to her to check her vitals, and when it was deemed that she was okay, the entire clearing full of women turned their gazes to Ranma like a pack of owls. The pigtailed girl discarded the last of the peel and ate the fruit whole, not tasting the white flesh on her tongue as she mechanically chewed and swallowed.

One of the girls who was well-versed in Japanese stepped forward and said, "Congratulations, stranger. You've won the enmity of Xian Pu. We laud your skills as master of the art, but it would be better for your health if you started running before our sister awakens."

Ranma didn't respond, other than to take out another fruit and begin peeling that one as well. Not far off, behind a circle of sharpened logs banded together into a wall, a plume of smoke billowed out a chimney in a sudden burst, like miniature mushroom cloud. The sight reminded Ranma's of how terribly, terribly empty she was. She glanced down at the half-peeled fruit and ate it on a whim, skin and all. It shredded her throat on the way down. "W-water," she choked out, falling on her ass and swinging her legs over the side of the log. "O-oh Kami I-I need water." The last words were the wheezing rasp of a dying soldier.

"For the love of the sun, she just won a banquet and she's dying of thirst?" somebody cried. "We should help her!"

"Yeah, but that'll just make Xian Pu's job harder," someone else called out. Apparently, the majority opinion was that this 'Shampoo' could bloody well take care of herself, so two green-haired girls seized the insensate champion by her wrists and ankles and hauled her off to their village, leaving the crowd behind. They carried her the distance back to Nyucheizu slung between each other, but broke off at the gate to the village. The taller of the two ran off to the well at the centre of the village to draw water, and the other put Ranma down on the grass. The Amazon girl stripped the pigtailed martial artist's muddy gi top off, followed by the red shirt underneath, and quickly assessed the damage.

Her sister came back a few seconds later, toting a bucket of water. She knelt down next to Ranma's head and tipped the bucket next to her mouth, allowing a few mouthfuls of cool water to slosh down Ranma's throat. She gurgled faintly as the life-giving liquid slid through her insides, and passed out from exertion.

"This is strange," commented the first girl. "Her chest is covered in whiplash markings, and there are a few bruises on her arms from the fight, but these look like panda claws!" She indicated a few sets of deep holes on her left forearm and right flank. "And these are just plain weird!" Red half-moon gouges covered the sides and top of Ranma's breasts, exposing the pale fat underneath. "What the hell was she doing before she came here?"

The second girl brushed her hair out her her eyes to see better, then frowned. She reached out delicately and pulled a clump of hair out of the thick fabric of the gi. Some were black, some were white, and one was red. "Yup, it's a panda alright," she confirmed, tossing the hair away. "So, crazy bitch with no food fighting a plant-eating bear in the middle of the mountains, and also trying to scratch her boobs off. We gotta nutcase here!" The other girl shot her an exasperated look. "We don't know that," she said. "For all we know, there's a perfectly logical reason for all of this." Her friend snorted. "Yeah, right."

"I will be the judge of that, young ones," came an aged voice from behind them. Both Amazons jumped in shock and spun around to see the matriarch of Nyucheizu, Ku Lon, balanced on her gnarled staff. The withered crone didn't waver on her precarious perch, a testament to her tremendous skill and strength. The young Amazon warriors both fell to one knee and bowed their heads in reverence. "Elder Ku Lon, what is your bidding?" they said in unison, to which the matriarch sighed. "Stand," she commanded wearily. "I have had a long day, and I would rather that we speak without the kowtowing."

She pointed at the prostrate, unconscious form of Ranma. "Did this woman truly defeat my great-granddaughter?" she asked. Both of them responded at once. "It was a long and grand battle," the first proclaimed, "and Xian Pu was weakened from the fighting earlier today!" At the same time, the second said, "Yup. She had her going for a bit there, but then this chick stepped in and wiped the floor with her."

Ku Lon looked at the sorry state of the girl who was supposedly the first challenger to win in over a century, and decided that there was some truth to the rumors that the airheaded Zha Kin had been spreading about the Japanese redhead from the forest who waltzed in and, half starved, defeated Xian Pu. "I see you're taking care of her," she noted, and the first girl beamed with pride. "You know it's been my dream to become a healer," she said demurely.

Ku Lon thought for a moment on what etiquette dictated be done. "Take her to your home, Fang," she finally said. "You are to look after this woman until both she and my great-granddaughter are well enough for the kiss of death to be performed. I suspect that this will be tomorrow." Fang bowed her head and murmured acceptance, and Ku Lon bounced away, launching off of every available surface using her oversized cane as a vaulting aid.

"Why do I have the sinking feeling that this is gonna blow?" Fang's sister asked to nobody in particular. Fang sighed. "Don't worry about it, Mao. Ku Lon's orders are to be obeyed, not questioned."

Mao looked at Ranma, then at the gate of the village where Ku Lon was searching the surrounding fields for signs of Xian Pu's approach. "Is it just me," she said rhetorically, "or does she look eager?"

XXX

Ranma awoke feeling much better than she had in days. She wasn't wearing a shirt, which was a little confusing to her, but as she sat up on her cot and regained the feeling in her skin, she realized that an ointment had been rubbed into her wounds to alleviate the pain and help with healing. She wasn't thirsty anymore, but skipping lunch and dinner yesterday wasn't doing her any favors. "Where am I?" she asked, her voice a quiet croak. It was a bungalow, made with modern materials mixed together with the odd touch of rustic décor, such as the glass coffee table with a black-and-white television and a clay mug of steaming coffee.

"Good morning," came a voice from the kitchen in the next room. A girl with cerulean hair and a warm smile sauntered in. "I am Fang," she said in slightly accented Japanese, "and I am looking after you for the time being. Please, you must eat breakfast. Your body is nearing collapse from malnutrition." She held out a plate with a few eggs and a sausage on it, as well as a glass of water, and Ranma viciously tore into it like a man possessed. Fang watched in amusement as the food disappeared into the planetary black hole located in Ranma's abdomen.

"Feeling better, yes?" she asked, and Ranma nodded. "Thanks for all the help, but you missed some of the blood," Ranma said, pointing at her groin. Two or three days ago, something inside of her had torn, and the resulting stream of blood was staining her underwear as fast as she could change it, and the smell was starting to get on her nerves. "You're having your period, but you don't have any cloths?" Fang asked, then shook her head. "Never mind, I have extras."

"Wait, this happens to everyone?" Ranma asked, confused but not surprised that there were aspects to being a girl that she didn't understand yet. Fang gave her a look that clearly said 'don't be a fucking idiot.' "Wait here, please," she said, and left. Ranma examined the rest of her bare upper body, pleased to note that most of her minor pains had gone away, save the scar on her forearm, which she had gotten used to years ago. She also noticed that seeing herself naked no longer turned her on, though her feelings on that were divided.

"Here," said Fang, coming back into the room and offering a square of fabric to Ranma. She took it and stared, trying to divine its use through observation. It looked like it was supposed to stopper up her vagina, somehow, but for the life of her Ranma had no idea what the hell she had gotten into. Fang looked away politely, and Ranma quickly stuffed the pad in her pocket and pretended that she had used it. "Uhh… thanks for the food an' all, but I gotta go find pops, make sure he doesn't go sell me into slavery again or somethin'." The nonchalance with which Ranma suggested it made Fang think it had happened before.

"I'm sorry, miss…?"

"Ranma. Ranma Saotome."

"I'm terribly sorry, Ranma, but I have been ordered to keep you here until our council sends for you. Nyucheizu has some fairly specific laws pertaining to combat with outsiders, and a tribune has been called to determine how to proceed."

Ranma snorted. "Yeah, laws doin' with outsiders? That's my cue to get the hell outta Dodge, sister. Bed and breakfast was great, shame you had to go and ruin it." She hauled herself to her feet and stretched her arms wide, subconsciously assuming a short back stance. "Out of the way. Now." Fang, who was more of a healer than a fighter, immediately stepped aside. "I warn you, this is a mistake," she said quietly, but Ranma ignored her and left anyways. The one-story home was fairly small, so finding the door was a cinch. Sadly for Ranma, the Joketsuzoku had the presence of mind to leave a pair of guards at the door. The older women, both wearing tanned leather armour and heavy bronze boots, turned to face Ranma and unsheathed their swords in tandem.

The pigtailed girl backed up a few steps and meekly raised her hands in surrender. "Hey guys," she said jokingly. "How've ya' been? Good t' see you again!"

"It is indeed a pleasure to meet the warrior who bested my heir and descendant," came a voice from behind her. Ranma spun around, her chest swaying enticingly, and was met by the tiny yet intimidating stature of Ku Lon. The elder wore a dark blue dress and had put her luxuriously long white hair into a braid. She was balanced on her ever-present staff, a scroll case in her left hand. "AAAH!" Ranma screamed, instinctively trying to kill the Joketsuzoku matriarch with a heavy overhand chop. The hag responded by leaping off of her staff with preternatural agility and smashing it over Ranma's head with enough force to shatter a boulder. Ranma fell back, merely stunned.

"I am Ku Lon," she said threateningly, "and you would do well to remember the name."

"Alright Ku- K- Kool… uh, Cologne?"

Cologne sighed. "Close enough, child. I suppose you can be forgiven for your imperfect grasp of our language."

"Right," Ranma said hesitantly. "So, you're in charge?"

"I am."

"Can we get this over with? I have to catch up to my pops and beat the shit out of him, and by now he's probably in Hong Kong looking for the harbour."

Cologne laughed. "I fear that this may be an inconvenience to you, gweilo, but we have much to discuss. Namely, your victory in our ceremonial rite of passage."

Ranma's understanding of the term Cologne used to address him with equated its meaning to that of gaijin, but in all honesty he could think of worse nicknames than 'ghost man.' "Ceremony? You mean, I'm gonna' become a god?"

"No."

"Sacrificed to a god?"

"No."

"Accepted into your tribe with no hard feelings?"

"Hardly!"

"Beaten to within an inch of my life and thrown off of a cliff?"

"That comes closer." Cologne cleared her throat. "Perhaps you and Fang might come with me to my home? It might be easier to explain the situation with both you and my great-granddaughter present. Little alarm bells were going off in both Fang's and Ranma's minds, but they cooperated nonetheless. They walked behind the shrunken woman through the Joketsuzoku village, shame burning through Fang and curiosity through Ranma.

She lead the younger girls to a towering cliff face, to the base of a waterfall toppling from the heavens to a small pool at the base and trickling away downhill. "This way," Cologne said curtly, and jumped straight through the wall of water. Fang followed suit, though she did not have cologne's agility. Instead, she hopped across a series of stepping stones lined up along the pool's bottom and vanished behind the wet curtain. 'Seems easy enough,' Ranma thought, searching for the entrance. When she spotted the shadowy outline on the rock face, she bunched her muscles tightly and hurtled across the pond.

From within the home of the Joketsuzoku matriarch, there was heard a resounding crash, followed by a torrential rain of anatomical impossibilities that turned Fang's ears bright red. Cologne chuckled at the protégé healer's discomfort. A few seconds later, a sopping wet and irritated Ranma hauled herself through the portal and lay still on the stone floor, her pigtail plastered to her forehead. "Never again," she promised, "will I ever jump at a shadow and expect it to hold still. Nasty dirtbags, not even real."

"Please stop procrastinating, gweilo, we have much to do in little time."

"Hello, bastard. Glad to see you're fine, because I'm right as rain!" Ranma's head lolled to one side, revealing the sideways body of Shampoo, looking vibrant, healthy, fed, and steaming mad. Ranma rolled to her feet and faced the three Chinese women with no little trepidation. "So, uh… what can I do for you?" she asked.

Shampoo stepped forward slowly, her hands by her sides and a seductive swagger in her step. She walked directly up to Ranma, so close their breasts were touching, and leaned in. By now, Ranma was sweating in nervous anxiety, but the steel glare of the Joketsuzoku elder kept her rooted to the spot. Fang rolled her eyes at the theatrics.

Shampoo suddenly smashed her lips against Ranma's, her wide hazel eyes gazing deeply into Ranma's icy blue ones with an unreadable emotion. Ranma tried to pull away from the unexpected action, but Shampoo slipped one hand behind her head and held it in place.

"That's a little extreme, don't you think?" Fang commented, and Cologne hhmph'd. "Xian Pu was always one for theatrics." Case in point, the tongue was probably overkill, as by now Ranma was moaning and no longer trying to push the amorous teenager off of her. Shampoo stepped back, still holding Ranma's gaze, and calmly tried to run her through. Ranma twisted her torso around the thrust of the short sword, her conscious thought overruled by practical experience. The attack had too much commitment, and Shampoo's other hand hadn't yet returned to a guard position.

With a swift open handed chop, Ranma hit Shampoo's temple hard enough to black her out. The lavender-haired girl fell to the ground, the long-handled dao slipping from her grip. Ranma glimpsed her back, which had a pair of crossed butterfly knives on it, as she fell. Fang seemed rather surprised at the turn of events, while Cologne seemed to have expected it. As soon as she was reasonably certain that the last thirty seconds weren't an extremely detailed hallucination involving her two favourite things, Ranma was asking questions.

Cologne held up one hand and waited for Ranma to quiet, allowing the redhead's torrent of interrogatives to die off. "It is our law, as a nation, to kill you for the crime of defeating one of our females. It is especially dire in that you have won our coming-of-age championship, but the fact remains that you must die by my great-granddaughter's hand, without aid."

Ranma frowned. "How's that gonna work? I kicked her ass once, what makes you think the second time's gonna be any different?" Fang rolled her eyes at Ranma's directness.

"A fair question, gweilo," Cologne said evenly. "Usually it is, and we shall leave it at that. Would that I could intervene, you would not draw breath right now." Somehow, the threat coming from the ancient hag made shivers run up Ranma's spine, and her gut told her that the elder could make good on her promise. "However, it is Shampoo's duty to kill you, no matter the cost, and kill you she shall."

"Oh really, old ghoul?" The words were out before she'd even thought of them, a classical example of the hereditary Saotome bluntness. The wooden staff flashed forward and connected with Ranma's head with a solid clunk, followed by an ironically hollow noise. "You belligerent fool!" Cologne hissed, returning to her position atop the walking aid and fighting implement. "You are three hundred years too young to jest at my stature, whelp!"

'Okay, gweilo is okay, but what the hell is a whelp?'

"Listen, get to the point or I'm gonna take my chances with your walking stick of doom." Fang winced at the sort of disrespect that had beaten out of her at a young age. This foreigner was reminding her more of her sister every minute.

"Since Shampoo clearly cannot best you in direct combat," Cologne said reluctantly, albeit with an implicit 'yet', "she will utilize our most reviled and deadly attack: the Three Year Smile of Death."

Ranma was understandably confused by the whole scenario, so Fang explained. "This technique," she said urgently, "she will follow you to the ends of the earth, all the while appearing serene and friendly. However, every negative feeling she has towards you, and there are doubtless many, will collect in her belly until she is filled with rage and will kill you! You must leave, now!"

Ranma turned to run for her life, but Cologne's staff caught her by the shoulder. "Not so fast, either of you. As Shampoo will be staying with you for the foreseeable future, Fang will go also."

"What?"

"What?"

Cologne smiled, and there was a distinct gleam of schadenfreude in her eyes. "Fang, it will do you good to see the world and our tribe's foreign relations. Officially, you will be traveling with Shampoo to provide moral support and first aid during her three years abroad. You leave as soon as Gweilo does."

"Of course, Matriarch," Fang ground out, contemplating using the Three Year Smile of Death herself. Shampoo pulled herself off of the floor, stood at attention, and waited in silence for thirty seconds. After the brief meditation, she turned to Ranma and smiled angelically. "Hello, Airen," she said, a glazed look in her amber eyes. Fang looked at the starstruck Shampoo, the terrified Ranma, and the implacable Cologne, and did the smart thing. She grabbed Ranma by the wrist and ran out of the cave, cursing her luck and her ancestors, Ranma trailing behind and Shampoo not far behind.

'Ah,' Cologne thought, with no little degree of satisfaction, 'to be young again.'

XXX

Fang had a suitcase slung over one shoulder, with a few weeks worth of clothes and toiletries, as well as her savings in RMB, Ranma's meager stash of yen, and two passports. Shampoo had something similar in hand, and was currently sprinting for the gates to the village. Ranma's brain was still stuck in bluescreen mode, so it fell to Fang to drag the redhead along behind her. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail, idly wondering if it would stick out too much in Japan, then took off at a full sprint with Ranma in tow, drool hanging out the corner of her mouth. Maybe Cologne hit the poor girl too hard?

Shampoo vaulted over the village gates easily and set after them, her long legs striding over familiar ground. If you could read her mind, it would have been blank, as it would remain for the next thirty-six months. The anger and hate festering in her gut would break free in due time, but for now she was content to wield the hammer of fate against the redheaded fighter. Already her fiendishly clever mind was cycling through the various, devious little ways to sate her anger until the day her might was concentrated enough to flatten Ranma like the crimson bug she was. Sh couldn't help the childish giggle of delight that escaped her lips, but then she was off in pursuit of her prey.

The village guards, a man and a woman, were distracting themselves from the monotony of their post by fervently making out near the gate. They had gone unnoticed by the panicking Fang, the spaced-out Ranma, the determined Shampoo, and it seemed that this was to be their fate with the fourth and final evacuee of Nyucheizu. Four meters to the left of the front entrance, something blasted a hole in the wall, kicking up a dust cloud. The infatuated Amazons pulled away quickly and pretended nothing was out of the ordinary on their end. A tall man with long black hair and opaque glasses came through the breach, wielding an unloaded dart rifle and a white training potty in the shape of a swan. "Enemies of my love!" Mousse cried, waving the swan-shaped receptacle like a mace. "How dare you steal away my Xian Pu?"

"Oh great, it's the idiot," the man muttered, turning and walking back to guarding the now-redundant gate.

"Well," the girl said, taking up position by the new entrance, "at least Mu Tsu's leaving. Can't complain about that, eh?"

"You traitor! You vile foreigner! I shall see you punished, so I may reclaim the love my my darling Xian Pu!" Mousse ran off into the sunset after Shampoo, his white robes spilling weapons and mundane items as he ran, more than what the laws of physics suggested might be able to fit in them in the first place. A few minutes later, he was gone too.

"So... should we tell Ku Lon that he has left?"

"... no."