Pain.  That was the first conscious thought he had - everywhere.  

	Time was defined from moment to moment - each new moment, the input 
from a new sensation.

	Touch.  His back was cradled by smooth, soft firmness.  Cloth.  
Where was he?  Lying on - a bed, he thought.  

	The smell.  The smells of old wood, of a lived-in house.  
Comforting, comfortable, a home.  The smell of the sheets - clean, sweet 
smelling, flowers, sort of, maybe a trace of sandalwood - a girl's bed?  
Why was he on a girl's bed?

	His vision was blurry when he opened his eyes.  Everything was too 
bright.  There was someone above him - a girl?  

	He blinked, tried to talk, coughed instead.  His throat was very 
dry, and he was very grateful when he felt the contact of cool glass 
against his lips.

	"Drink slowly, okay?"

	It was a nice voice, almost familiar, in its soft gentleness.  But 
he was busy slurping the water as quickly as she would allow him: One sip 
at a time.  

	He did not know how long that moment lasted, the wondrous feeling 
of water sliding down his throat, the soft hands holding his head up.  
Was it minutes?  An hour?  It could have been, he thought.

	He fell asleep again, but when he woke, he was sure it could not 
have been for more than a few minutes this time.  The girl had left, had 
returned, but there were other footsteps, too, now.  

	His vision was starting to clear.  The girl had long, brown hair, 
such soft eyes. 

	"Are you okay, Ranma?" she asked softly.  "You've been asleep for 
days."

	He shut his eyes then, as a cacophony of noise erupted all around.  
Too many voices, male and female, all unfamiliar, too much at once.

	"Son-in-law?"

	"My son..."

	"Ranma, you must uphold the honor of the Anything Goes School -"

	"Waaaaaah!  Thank God, Saotome, our families can still be united -"

	"So who'd you lose to, Ran-"

	"Aiyah!  Husband oka-"

	"Ran-chan!"

	"Ranma..."

	He moaned, and the girl above him waved the others to silence.  

	"Please, I think Ranma really needs some rest.  Could you all wait 
a -"

	He spoke at last, a quiet, tentative whisper, and everyone strained 
to hear him.  "Ran... ma..."  A little louder, he said, "Who's... Ranma?"

---

Winner


A Ranma 1/2 one-shot
By Rain Man

Author's shpew:
This story did not go in the direction I wanted it to for a number of 
reasons.  Personal problems foremost among them.  It was supposed to be 
semi-lighthearted, but I don't think I can manage that right now.  So 
pardon me.  I hope it's still a story you folks can... uh, enjoy. 

---

	It was dim now.  Night?  The lights were off in the room.  A 
picture frame next to him - he could not quite make out the faces of the 
group.  

	Sounds from outside, he tensed at them.  

	'Why am I tense?'
	'Am I afraid of something?'

	A part of him called out from somewhere, behind thunderclouds and 
wind and it may as well have been from the dark side of the moon, 'I'm 
not scared of anything!'
	'But I am.  I know I am, now.'

	He did not like this, did not want to consider those implications, 
so he focused on what was outside the room instead.

	"He really doesn't remember..."  A dry voice from further back.

	"Nabiki, you've already called Dr. Tofu, right?"

	"Sure.  I'm still impressed that you were able to get everyone to 
leave him alone for a while, by the way."

	There was an uncomfortable pause.  "Akane helped."

	There was a third one.  Excited?  No, perhaps a little scared.  
Kind of trembly.  "Is he... Is he okay, Kasumi?"  

	"He'll be fine, Akane-chan - it is Ranma, after all.  But you 
should get some rest, you look tired.  It was very nice of you to let him 
stay in your bed while he recovers."

	"I-it's better than those old futons he used to share with his Dad 
in the guestroom, um.  I hope you don't mind sharing a room with me, 
'nee-chan..."

	"Of course not."

	"On the bright side, Akane," the dry voice intoned, "the haircut 
makes him look more handsome."

	The other voice mumbled something, he could barely make it out, "-
anma didn't need to look more handsome..."

	'So.  I am,' he thought, mouthing the syllables slowly, "Ranma."  

	The pains were almost completely gone, now, but he still felt a 
certain... wrongness, somehow.  But the voices outside this room, they 
were at least concerned, all of them.  Why did that surprise him so much?  
From one of them, he knew he expected it, but from the other two... It 
made him feel warm.

	"A - ka - ne," he said.  It was a nice name.  

---

	"It's unfair," she whispered.  "So unfair."  

	She turned onto her stomach, tried to push her face into the 
pillow, tried to push herself into soft oblivion.  Sleep.  "Why can't I 
sleep?" she asked herself.  

	The loose cloth of her pajama pants flapped about, tangled as she 
tossed and turned.  She swallowed.  "It may as well have been a dream."

	But it was, real, she told herself.  It had to be real.  

	It was just a few days ago, on a Thursday.

	It would have been a few days ago, on a Thursday, that is, if she 
were sure that it had been real.  

	It would have been like that, she thought.  That Thursday, she and 
him, they had been walking, towards school, sharing an umbrella.  

	"Man, Akane, I can't use this umbrella by myself!  It's pink and 
it's got... flowers an' stuff on it!  It's girly!!"

	She asked him what he expected from borrowing one of Kasumi's 
umbrellas, for some reason not as irked as she normally would have been 
with him, on a school day's morning.  Perhaps it was because she had 
edged closer to him, under the umbrella, and so that they could keep 
step, and Ranma had placed a hesitant, almost clumsy arm around her 
waist.

	"I don't wanna get wet, that's all!" he nervously explained.  

	But she could tell that he was leaning a little her way, and she 
did not know what she wanted, this time.  She was leaning into him, too, 
before she was sure of what she was doing.

	The wind suddenly grew strong, immensely strong, and the rain swept 
at them, spattering them in hard sheets of tiny drops that made it hard 
to see.  Ranma picked her up and ran for the covered waiting shed, by the 
bus stop.  

	Akane could not help herself, she was envious at the easy strength 
of the other even as a girl, and secretly, a little excited to feel the 
muscles of his... her arm flexing around her waist.  She colored a deep 
red.

	"Wow!  It's really pouring now!  Do you think the typhoon changed 
direction an' headed back?  Maybe classes have been cancelled today!"

	Unlikely, thought Akane, but she did not relish the thought of 
walking the rest of the way through that.  She shivered a little, and 
when Ranma gingerly covered her with those absurdly strong, slender arms, 
she did not object, though she did say, "Ranma, you're a girl."

	She had started carrying a thermos of hot water, since the start of 
the rainy season, and the smile Ranma gave Akane when she poured a little 
of it onto her, now him, made her shiver again, but not from the cold of 
the wind.

	"Thanks, Akane!"  

	They sat down on the bench, close to each other, waiting for the 
rain to ease.  They were not soaked as Ranma had moved very quickly when 
the downpour had intensified, but they would have been, trying to go 
through that deluge, even with an umbrella or two.  

	His arm felt good around her, to the both of them.  They were just 
wet enough for the few layers of cloth between them to feel very, very 
thin.  

	They spent a while, lost in the newness of those sensations, of 
firm and soft and an exciting variety of in-betweens all along where they 
were touching.

	"Umm, Akane?"

	It looked as though the rain would never stop, and she wondered if 
she wanted it to.  It would be nice to stay like this, with Ranma's arm 
around her, sitting peacefully, for, well, not forever, but for a long 
while, anyway.  

	He was breathing a little hard, Akane noticed, and wanted to tell 
him not to say anything, not to spoil the moment.  She looked into his 
eyes, willing him not to say anything, not to make her angry and - 

	She brought her face closer to his, close enough so that she could 
feel his breath on her lips.  She was surprised, very surprised, almost 
surprised enough to strike, when he closed the rest of the distance, and 
she felt that brief, frightening touch.  

	She wanted more, she wanted - 

	"About the engagement," he said.

	He looked away, very pink in the cheeks himself.

	"Well... never-mind."

	She had almost threatened him with many bodily harms if he would 
not cough up what he wanted to say and nearly did, but instead asked, 
very softly, "Are you afraid, Ranma?"  

	He had to be, she was sure - at the very least, there was the 
prospect of one of the other fiancées finding them like this, but she was 
not angry when he denied fear this time.

	He had mumbled something.

	"What did you say?"

	He scuffed his feet along the ground and looked away from her, out 
to the rain, when he said it again, "Akane... if I was to marry anyone, 
um, just supposing I was.  Well, you know who it'd be, right?  Um, well, 
that is."

	"What are you saying, Ranma?"

	"I'd," he stuttered, "I'd m-marry, ah, well, you."

	"Oh." 

	Very softly, she said, "I wouldn't... I wouldn't mind it so much 
either, Ranma."  

	Their hands touched and held, and squeezed, for just a little 
while.

	The rain eased somewhat, and when he stood to continue the way to 
school, so did she.	

---

	'Did he just say something to me?' she thought.

	"So, what did the doctor say, again?"

	"Uh, he said that, physically, you're as healthy as you usually 
are...  He isn't sure about the memory loss, but he said that since your 
chi is normal, without any of the flickering that suggests instability of 
personality, it should come back to you, over time.  Especially in a 
familiar environment - uh, that's why you're staying with us instead of 
with your mother and father.  He also wants you to go to him for a check-
up later today, and again the next week."  She squirmed.  "Would you 
please stop that?"

	"Stop what?"

	"... You're looking at me."

	"So?"  His gaze, while not particularly intense, was open and 
steady on her and, if this were not Ranma, she would have thought that he 
was almost admiring her.  This was something she just was not used to 
from him.  That and the absence of the casual insults thrown her way, the 
absence of conflict... it was unnerving.  

	He looked almost amused.

	She cleared her throat.  "Nothing."

	"Oh.  I didn't used to look at you much?"  If he was surprised, and 
she thought he was, it was visible only in the way he shifted his eyes 
away for just a moment.

	"Well... not like that, anyway."  And there was his voice, too, 
Akane thought.  He spoke softly, now - hesitantly.  There was a pause 
between each word he spoke, as though he were not used to speaking, as 
though he was cautiously weighing and measuring each syllable.  There was 
a discomfort - almost like he preferred to be silent.  

	Akane cleared her throat again, and mumbled, "I don't mind."  She 
had not struck him once since that last Thursday - since she had promised 
herself that she wouldn't anymore.  How would he know?  

	He shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable himself.  "Oh."  He paused, and 
in that brief moment before he turned his gaze down to watch his 
footsteps shuffling along, she could see his dark blue eyes closing up, 
emptying in a way that bothered her.

	'What did I just do wrong?' she thought.

	Walking together again in silence, she stumbled, grasped for 
anything to talk about, to get his eyes to warm up again. 

	"Ranma, why didn't you practice this morning, with your father?"

	"... I did."

	"Why was it so quiet, then?  Usually, your workout with your father 
lasts long enough to wake everyone at the house up.  And he wasn't at 
breakfast this morning either."

	He shoved his hands into his pockets, looked away.  

	"Ranma?"

	"Anou... You talk as though I should know what you're talking about 
- 'usually, your workout' - but I don't."

	"Yeah, but!"

	"So, um, I knocked him out."

	"What?"

	He shook his head.  "I didn't know it was for practice - he just 
attacked me and was yelling about the art and stuff.  So I hit him as 
soon as I could, um, as hard as I could, and he was out.  It was 
strange... for a moment, I could not remember how to move at all, not at 
all, and maybe it was because I was waking up, but there was something 
strange, I saw something just when I hit him and.  Afterwards, it was 
gone, and I was moving kind of clumsily compared to - I guess compared to 
how I used to.  Sorry, I guess it doesn't matter."

	She frowned.  "Just like that?"  

	He looked away.

	'Well, at least he's still got something of his skills,' she 
thought.

	"You've barely said anything the whole morning."  Things were 
starting to feel very awkward.  "Aren't you going to talk to me?" she 
finally asked.

	He eyed her curiously.  

	"Should I?"

	She bit her lip in frustration.  If it had been difficult to talk 
to Ranma before this, now, for some reason she could not quite pinpoint, 
it was nearly impossible for her to deal with him without being... 
embarrassed.  

	And... and at the same time, she was worried, how could she not be?  
If he did not remember, why didn't he ask about things?  Why didn't he 
ask about her, about her family, about his parents?  Why nothing about 
his curse, which he just accepted blankly, without a hint of complaint 
when he had changed to a girl that morning by accident and had needed it 
explained to him?  What about the - 

	"Tell me about my fiancées," he interrupted the rush of her 
thoughts.

	'Of course he would ask about that,' she thought as her blood 
pressure started to rise.  In disgust, she said, "Oh, look, we're here."  
She gestured casually at the gates.  "We have to get to class, okay?"

	'Why is she so cold all of a sudden?' he thought.

	She had this odd feeling that she had forgotten something, but she 
shook it off and rushed through.

	She could not stop thinking about that Thursday, and wished they 
could return to that morning.  Or that, at least, she had not been so 
afraid when the stranger had come.  So that she could make him return 
Ranma's memories.

---

	"Why Shampoo not to visit groom?"

	"This is your chance, great-granddaughter.  Your one chance to 
correct the mistakes..." the Elder cleared her throat meaningfully, "the 
mistakes both of us made in approaching him.  He does not remember those 
mistakes.  He does not remember what happened at his failed wedding.  
This is the one time you and the other two have an equal chance in 
winning him.  The best chance we shall ever have."

	"... what Great Grandmother mean?"

	Cologne ran her fingers slowly along the gnarled patterns of the 
ancient, ancient wood of her staff, and Shampoo trembled in response, 
partly from fear, partly from anticipation.  That was the gesture the old 
ones always gave, before starting anyone on a new technique or training 
regimen.  It was never pleasant, and it had been a long time since she 
had last been personally instructed by Cologne in her capacity as an 
Elder...

	"First, we will start on your Japanese."

	Sunrise, sunset.

---

	It had been a very strange day.  They had walked back in that 
uncomfortable silence again.  Until she could not stand it anymore and 
had to get in his way, sticking her face just inches away from his.  

	"I can't believe it."

	"Why not?" Ranma asked, hissing as she gingerly touched the 
discoloration of his jaw.  "He's a good fighter."  She was startled when 
he seemed to lean into her touch, enough so that she nearly backed away.

	"Yes, but, but -"

	"Which reminds me, Akane.  Thank you."  

	She turned her eyes away, flushing.  "Uh, for what?"  The 
expression in his eyes was far too disconcerting just then and when his 
lips brushed against her hand, she jerked it back, held it as carefully 
as if it had been burned, she was so confused.  

	Her voice was somewhat hoarse when she said, "Whatcha do that for 
Ranma?"  She winced at the hostile tone of her own voice, at the same 
time relieved that she had at least not struck him. 

	"For bringing me to the clinic, earlier."  

	"Don't do it again!"  Would Ranma have done that if he didn't 
remember Thursday?  

	"I can't kiss my fiancée's hand?" he asked, bemused.

	'When had Ranma ever smiled like THAT?' Akane wondered, barely 
capable of looking him in the eye at that point.  It made her warm to the 
roots of her hairs and, if part of her wanted to smack him, the other 
part that had begun to grow since that last Thursday wanted to see that 
smile again even more, made her want to stare openly.

	"You really can't remember anything?" she blurted out.

	With an abruptness that jarred her, he turned and started walking 
again, face darkened, stony.  

	"Let's go - we're going to be late for dinner."

	"S-sure, Ranma," she mumbled.  

	Dinner had been awkward, quiet.  Subdued.  Nodoka had given her 
husband and Akane's father stern instructions earlier not to mention the 
engagements at all.  People spoke softly and not often, only a few 
expressing concern in how Ranma was coming along.  

	With just a few words exchanged, he had eaten quietly, rapidly, 
thanked Kasumi for the quality of the meal, and gone to his room.

	Akane wanted to scream, went to her room to sleep it off instead.

---

	It took everything she had to stop trembling.

	It was a sunny afternoon, on a Sunday.  There was not a cloud in 
the sky, an endless pure blue above them, and the breeze was cool.  The 
bright sunlight made the walls around her home shine a clean, peaceful 
white that almost glowed.  She could almost forget that, every day for 
the past week, it had been raining almost non-stop.

	Akane's eyes were very wide.  Her mouth opened and closed silently 
for a long time.  Finally, she screamed, "You bastard!"  She gritted her 
teeth and almost snarled, "What did you do to him?"

	The man smirked.  

	At any other time, perhaps the first thing Akane would have noticed 
was the stranger's hard, chiseled face, which, while not handsome, was 
extraordinarily striking.  Right now, her vision was taking him in a 
fragment at a time.  

	She had to look up so far - he was huge!  No, she shook her head.  
He was tall, perhaps as tall as the Dojo Destroyer she and Ranma had 
fought once, but that was not what had given her that impression of 
hugeness.  It was his aura, the way he projected power in the set of his 
shoulders, the way his eyes flashed.  

	Black gloves with red steel studs over the knuckles and fingers, a 
white leather jacket, white pants, combat boots.  His shirt was black and 
his shoulders remarkably broad.  He was heavily muscled, yet still oddly 
lean at the same time.  His skin was a deep bronze, as though he had 
walked in the sun all his days.  He cast a long shadow that completely 
covered Akane, his spiky black hair waving from the wind.

	And he carried an unconscious and familiar figure over his 
shoulder, dressed in red and blue.  

	"Heh.  I am not a bastard," he said calmly, almost 
conversationally, as he stepped closer.

	Akane was starting to shake.  This stranger would pay, if... 
	And at the same time her heart hammered faster, but she would never 
admit to the fear, never!

	"Here, your boyfriend isn't hurt too bad."  

	"Heisnotmyboyfriend," she mumbled out of habit.

	With a grace that was disconcerting in someone so large, he gently 
set Ranma down on the sidewalk in front of Akane.  

	She rushed to Ranma, taking in the bruises, which did not seem too 
bad, really.  There was a thin trickle of blood winding its way from his 
ear, another trickle from his nose, another from the corner of his mouth 
and these might have been cause for worry, but his breathing seemed to be 
alright.  

	Her eyes switched back to the stranger, and she tried to focus, it 
was becoming hard to think - was the stranger dangerous?  

	Even as she watched the stranger's stony expression, Akane's 
fingers gently probed Ranma's side, and limbs.  "Nothing broken," she 
mumbled in relief.  Then she noticed that Ranma's hair had been shorn - 
the pigtail was gone, and somehow that made her so much angrier as she 
rose to her feet, sliding her feet into a combat stance, fists at ready, 
but she was trembling again.

	As much as she hated to admit it, anyone who could beat Ranma 
without getting more than a little dusty was simply out of her league...  

	The stranger just laughed.  "It was a good match."  

	He turned and began to walk away.  He stopped and turned back to 
her.  "Oh, yes.  When he comes to, tell him I will return for a rematch, 
when he is ready.  Tell him that I will not hold back next time."

	"You can't just-"

	He smiled, and that confused her badly, his open, friendly smile.  
"Don't be mad, miss.  It was a fair fight, I challenged and he accepted.  
Seeya."

	"Wait a minute, you can't just-"

	The stranger seemed to grow even larger before her, but that must 
have been her imagination.  His smile, which grew broader, was distinctly 
sincere, something that, long after that day, she would always remember 
as being remarkable.  It softened the lines of his heavy brow, the 
jutting chin and disturbingly pointed ears, and made the harsh, jagged 
shapes of his dark eyes seem almost kind.  It made him seem ominous no 
longer.  

	It was a familiar smile, the smile of one's best friend, the quiet 
smile of one lover to another, the kind and forgiving smile of a parent 
for his child, all this and more.  There was a longing fondness in it 
that called to her in a way she could not understand.  It was a smile 
that said, 'Akane Tendo, I know you.' 

	Akane froze, the rage draining away.  

	"Mother," she whispered, seeing the half-remembered beauty of her 
in him for just an instant.

	At last, he said, almost regretfully, "I am the Devil, Akane 
Tendo."

	And then he was gone.

	"Devil," Akane whispered into her pillow, only she did not seem 
angry, and the expression on her face, was half of confusion and half of 
peace.

---

	PAIN.

	Ranma opened his eyes, and dug his teeth into his knuckles.  He 
mustn't scream, he must not!  If he did, he did not think he would ever 
be able to stop screaming.  'Who was that?  When did that happen?  WHY 
CAN'T I REMEMBER!'  

	He sobbed into his pillow, muffling the sounds with a terrible 
effort.  He curled up as tightly as he could, tightly.

	His throat was raw when he murmured, "Why does everyone hate me?"  
But it was hard to return to sleep, thinking about pain.

---

	"Some battles you win, some you lose."  The other smiled.

	"I never lose!"

	"You've lost before.  What you mean is that you have always come 
back to triumph, afterwards."

	"... That's all that counts."

	"Ranma, I will show you that it isn't that simple."

	"It's always been that simple.  What's this about anyways?"

	"I will teach you something."  The big man smiled, eyes gleaming.  
"The last technique that you need ever know.  A lesson that, if you 
learn, will mean that truly, you shall never lose any fight that you do 
not wish to.  But only if you defeat me, Ranma - only then.  For this 
match, I will not use that technique, because then you could never defeat 
me.  This is your chance to change your life forever, I promise you."

	None of that mattered, Ranma thought.  None of it - all that was 
important was the chance for a new technique, and a challenge of honor.  
He did not hesitate.  "Then I accept."

---

	Sizzling hisses, the kiss of steel on hot steel and steam and oil 
and a hundred secret spices.

	"Excuse me?  You're Miss Kuonji, aren't you?"

	Ukyo almost dropped the spatula she was using to cook.  "Ranma?"

	"Y-yes.  That's me, I guess," he scratched his head bashfully.  
"You... didn't recognize me right away, Miss Kuonji?" 

	"Please," she bit her lip, "call me Uk-chan."

	"Sorry... Uk-chan."  His eyes closed and his nostrils flared as he 
took in the smoky, salty-sweet scents of her cooking.  "Smells good."

	"Uh, your usual?"  

	He shook his head, "I'm not hungry.  Not that I know what my usual 
is, but no thanks."

	"... sorry, I didn't mean to -"

	He waved it off, unconcerned.  "It's nothing, it's just that I'm 
not hungry."

	'How am I supposed to act towards him now?' Ukyo wondered.

	"So what do you think about all this?" he glanced down at himself.

	She took a good look at him.  "You look so different with short 
hair, Ranma...  And there's something else, I can't put my finger on it - 
WOAH!  You're wearing a school uniform!" she almost yelled when she 
noticed.  

	Previously unimaginable: the plain black slacks and top looked new, 
just recently bought.  It was just a little baggy, framing his trim, 
muscular figure in a way that made him seem merely slender.  It became 
him more than she expected.  

	"You look, um, okay, I guess.  You look much more clean-cut and 
stuff, and with your bangs cut short, the, uh, shape of your face comes 
out much... nicer."  Plainer, too, but she wasn't about to tell him that.  
She purposely neglected to mention the bruises on his face.

	"Hey, your cooking?" he said, breaking the moment.

	Ukyo fumbled for a plate abruptly, placed a fresh, slightly burnt 
('I was distracted,' she excused herself, blushing) okonomiyaki on it and 
shoved it to one side.  "Combo special!"

	A short girl, a student he did not recognize, picked it up from the 
counter, barely noticing him.

	"Now that's rare.  Usually, they all gawk at you, Ran-chan."

	"Really?"

	"Yup."

	"Why?"

	She seemed startled at that. 

	"Uh, because..." her cheeks reddened slightly.

	"Huh?"

	"Well... 'coz you're good-looking, jackass -" she could barely look 
him in the eye as she said it, "and 'coz everyone knows who you are.  Now 
the students barely notice you passing."

	"Well, it's better than the funny looks I was gettin' the day 
before."

	Ukyo did her best to put on a smile, hoped that the effort it took 
was not too obvious.  "Don't worry, Ran-chan - you'll have your memories 
back in no time!  Then you'll train hard, have your rematch with this 
devil guy and -"

	He shook his head, took the closest seat to her at the counter.

	She clenched her fists, tried to ignore the tingly desire to touch 
him, to somehow make him smile the way he used to.  

	"Uh, so, I heard that you lost to Kuno, a couple of days ago.  But 
you're still the best, I know!  It's just that you don't remember all of 
your fighting skill yet and..." 
	'This isn't working,' she thought.  He was just sitting there with 
this blank look to his face, staring at the grain of the wooden paneling 
she had installed into the counter top just the other day.  

	She swallowed, nervously wiped her hands on her tights, wondering 
why her palms were this sweaty.  'He must feel really badly about 
losing.'  But the usually things she did to cheer him up did not seem to 
affect him at all.

	Lost in thought, she almost missed it when he said the words.

	"Let's go out?"

	Again, she nearly dropped her spatula.  She had started preparing a 
special for Ranma, as she usually did, almost subconsciously.  "Huh?"  

	"Let's go.  Now.  To the park or... something.  That girl just 
left; there are no other customers - um, unless you're too busy?  I'd, 
uh, like to get to know you.  Again, that is."

	"No!  I mean, yes, I mean - NO, I'm not too busy!" she nearly 
yelled, somewhat giddy despite herself.  "I'm never too busy for you, 
Ran-chan."  Her hands were trembling really badly now. 

	She rushed to a room in the back.

	"Just let me get cleaned up real quick!" she yelled.  She wished 
she could somehow make sure he would not disappear on her, as she felt 
sure he was about to do.  Before he changed his mind.  "Uh, have you had 
to fight anyone else recently?"

	The expression in his voice when he answered wrenched at her, 
dragging down the happiness she would have felt otherwise even as she 
finished buttoning up the lavender blouse she had chosen from her closet.

	"Well.  Yeah, I did fight someone else, on the way back from 
school, just yesterday."

---

	"RANMAAA!  Prepare to die!"

	He turned, surprised, shocked really, and he barely got out of the 
way.  Stone was crushed where he had been, cracks running through the 
sidewalk.  "Do I know you?"

	"Do you think that stupid haircut's enough of a disguise to fool 
me, Ranma?  I'd recognize that red and blue outfit of yours any day!  And 
you look silly without that stupid pigtail!" 
	'Hah,' he thought, 'I get to insult Ranma for once!' 

	"Now fight me!"

	"Um, it's not a disguise.  See, I recently lost my memories, and -"

	"How dare you insult my intelligence like that, Ranma!  Now, now 
that I have trained for many weeks in the spiritual purity and suffering 
of the wilderness, I, Ryoga Hibiki have," he paused.  "Err, hold on a 
moment."  

	He pulled out a little scrap of paper with some carefully printed 
characters on it.  He cleared his throat once before continuing, "Ahem, I 
Ryoga Hibiki have found true strength and I shall defeat you!  And then I 
can proclaim my love for dear Akane!  Mwahahahahaha!"  

	Triumphant, he threw the paper into the face of the breeze, head 
cocked jauntily to one side, fist raised in the air.  

---

	"Yeah," Ukyo chuckled.  "It would be just like him to forget his 
pre-fight speech."

	Ranma sighed.  "I wish he'd just leave me alone."

---

	Ryoga felt a strange exhilaration as he collected himself - 
finally, the weeks of training he had just subjected himself to were 
about to pay off - and this time, he was sure he could do it.  The drama, 
the beauty of the fight, the perfect struggle, it all came down to this, 
he thought, this one eternal moment...

	"Oh.  Well, that's nice - ah, I concede, you won."  Ranma turned 
around and started walking rather rapidly away.

---

	"You said WHAT?" Ukyo yelled.

---

	"Of course you'd just belittle my ability!  But not this time 
Saotome!  You're not beating me this time, for I have discovered, deep in 
the depths of the caves beneath... somewhere, the technique of ultimate 
strength and power and."  He paused, the exhilaration kind of getting 
bogged down by the unexpected response that had finally registered in his 
thoughts.  "What did you just say?"

	"Ah, well, okay, you're obviously unbeatable.  So I concede.  Bye."

	Ryoga blinked again, mouth hanging very low.  "WHAT?  Is this some 
trick, Ranma?  Well, it's not going to work, you're not weaseling your 
way out of this match of... hey?  Hey, don't you dare run away!  It took 
me days to find you!  And I still have to pay you back for tossing my pig 
form into the wilderness!" 

	"Look," the thinner teenager said evenly, "Whatever was between us 
before, whoever you are - well, I just don't remember, see?  So I'm not 
fighting you today."

	The other was very, very quiet, and, for a moment, Ranma thought 
that he had successfully reasoned with him.  "Well, have a nice day."  He 
turned his back, and almost did not hear the low spoken words of Ryoga.

	"I'm not even worth remembering, am I?  All that pain of the 
training, all those years, Ranma - YOU JERK!  RAAAAAAARRRHH!"

	The figure in yellow and black leaped high, and landed once again 
in Ranma's way.  

	"I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're talking about!"  He smiled 
nervously.  "Can't we talk this over?  Um, hey, would you watch it!"  He 
just dodged a wild swing from the other's umbrella, flinching when a wall 
practically exploded on its impact.  

	Shards cut him, he was so surprised, cut his leg, his arm, his 
cheek.  "I'm just a student at Furinkan High!" he yelled.

	"There's no running away!  Now stop dancing around and fight me!"
	
	"I hate to fight!" Ranma yelled.

	"Turning yellow on me, Ranma?  Well there's no escape this time!  
Hiyaaa!!!"

	Ryoga launched another series of punches and managed to force the 
other to block a few of them rather than dodging.  Ranma winced as his 
arms almost went numb from the force that also nearly made him lose his 
footing.  

	"Getting slow, Ranma?"

	"I don't even know you, dammit!"

	This time, when he wove his way past another series of punches, 
palm strikes and knife hands, Ranma slammed his palm into the other's 
side, eyes widening when the other shrugged it off with ease.  
	'That should have broken ribs,' he thought.  

	He was surprised enough so that the other's elbow got through his 
guard, striking him in the jaw and launching him across the street to 
land hard against the wall.  His breath exploded out of him and he gasped 
from the deep bruises along his back.  It was a marvel that his jaw was 
not broken, he thought, as he worked his mouth open and closed, gulping 
air.  

	'It's happening again,' he thought.

	Time seemed to crystallize in his veins, solid numbness slowing 
everything - he could see Ryoga's mouth opening and closing, but the 
words were so slow, they were distorted, incomprehensible.  Everything 
was slow, he could see Ryoga's hair waving in the wind in half-frames, 
slow motion, falling leaves swimming through air that seemed thick, 
syrupy, impossible to breathe.  
	His head was spinning, flashes in his vision from the jarring 
impact to his head adding a distinctly surreal, blue tinge to everything 
he saw, making the movement of everything, from leaves and Ryoga's piece 
of paper floating in the wind to Ryoga's hair, to the dust rising from 
the shattered concrete beneath his back as concerted and coordinated as 
the elaborate, ceremonial dances of spring.  His blood pulsed loud 
through him, louder than the loudest taiko drums.
	'I'm losing.'
	'I can't be losing, I'm Ranma Saotome!'
	'What?  Where did that come from?  I barely remember my name.'
	'Haven't I lost before?'
	'This has happened to me before - this vision...'

		He lay on a field of old stone tiles, before an empty 
	temple abandoned long ago.  

		"Not good enough, Ranma," the huge figure looking down 
	on his fallen form said.  "Show me that my investment in you 
	was worth it.  Show me which way lies your destiny."

	He snapped back to today, to Ryoga and the reality of pain.  'How 
long was I out of it?  Why hasn't this... Ryoga person finished me yet?'

	That was the instant that electrified everything in Ranma's eyes.  
The wind, the currents of the air, the currents and flows, the weave, the 
feeling of the cracks in the broken concrete beneath his feet, the sun 
high in the sky, everything as his eyes sharpened - taking in the 
whirling, spinning strands of power forming in the other's hands.

	At that moment, it was clear.  Ranma could feel the power in his 
own hands gathering, responding, knew that this battle could be his 
totally, completely.

	To the other, only the barest fraction of a moment had passed.

	"So what if I always get lost!  So what if I'm so clumsy with 
people that I still haven't been able to tell Akane that I...  For all 
the unhappiness in my life, Ranma," Ryoga snarled, not noticing the way 
the confusion left the other's eyes.  Finally, finally, he was winning, 
he was going to pay Ranma back for everything, everything! 

	"ShishiHOKOUDAAAN!!!"	

	Ranma dropped his hands, and closed his eyes.

---

	"Oh... you lost to Ryoga, too."

	He was silent for a long time, while they walked.  

	"That's why you've started wearing the school uniform.  So you 
wouldn't draw so much attention to yourself."

	"You disappointed in me, Uk-chan?" he asked.  "A lot of the 
attention I seem to attract is kinda hostile."

	She did not know what to say.

	"I could have won, you know," he said, so softly that she had to 
strain to hear him.  "I knew I could have, that last moment.  I could see 
something, somethin' that happened to me before.  I had to hold back, 
'cause I was afraid of what would happen if I didn't, I don't know why I 
was so scared of the strength in my hands.  I was thinking... wonderin' 
why so many people hated me."

	"What?"

	He looked at his hands.  Hard, rough, calluses around the edges, on 
the backs, on the palms.  "I didn't even know what I was fighting for.  I 
thought, maybe, you know, that, if they... hated me... so much, that I 
must have done something wrong to them, something..."

	"You didn't, Ranma!  Not everyone hates you and - you didn't 
deserve to lose, really, you always win!  They...  They're not going to 
leave you alone just because you lost once.  People don't hate you, you 
haven't done enough to deserve that and.  You... you never lose, I -"

	His fingertip touching the end of her nose shocked her speechless.  
	The way he stepped closer to her, the knowing acceptance in his 
eyes, it could have been him from a dream.  The casual, it could only be 
called intimacy, she thought, was something that the Ranma she knew would 
never have done, something she had always been wishing for anyway.  

	Her cheeks flared a bright shade of red, and it was hard to 
remember what she had been trying to say.  The look in his eyes finally 
acknowledged her, finally recognized how she felt towards him.  She felt 
him acknowledging her as someone who wished to be more than just a 
friend.  Far more.  
	And, despite the discolored bruises, the newness of his short hair, 
the deepening half-circles beneath his eyes, the haunted aura about him, 
he was still handsome.  Perhaps more so, as all of it somehow made him 
seem tragic and unreal and beautiful, almost like a prince from a story.

	"Now I know fer sure that you're a fiancée of mine.  You've been 
watching me so closely, the whole time I've been with you today.  I can 
see your worrying in your eyes even as you smile.  It's cute," he smiled.  
"You're cute."

	How could Ukyo complain?  This time, when she linked her arm with 
his, he did not shy away, he even seemed to take some comfort from the 
contact.  Yet the confusion hidden behind his eyes, the way he smiled 
now, those changes, the shuffling step, the loss of the light-hearted 
confidence in his voice, they made her want to weep anyway.  
	Was this what it would take for her to win him?  Was it worth it to 
see him like this?

	"I'm starting to think that I'm not the Ranma you know at all, 
though."

	"I..."  She was starting to wonder that herself.  "Well, you'll get 
the old you back, it's only a matter of -"

	He flinched.  "Forget about that, for now, please.  Please, pretend 
that we just met, pretend that -" his hands drew vague circles in the 
air, "that our parents engaged us a long time ago, and we met again for 
the first time today.  I'm tired of hearing, or talking, about the me 
everyone knows except me."

	Hands on her shoulders - his hands, and so warm.  He was looking so 
earnestly into her eyes, too.  "Can you do that for me, Uk-chan?  
Pretend?"  

	He let go.  

	"Hi."
	"I'm Ranma Saotome."
	"I'm going to be seventeen soon.  I study at Furinkan high.  I do 
martial arts - but I don't like it much, 'coz everyone seems to dislike 
me for it."

	She looked almost as though she was going to cry.

	"Um, I like the color blue."

	"Sorry, this isn't working is it?" he mumbled at last.

	"Sorry."  He started to walk away, head bent, shoulders hunched as 
his feet shuffled along.  'What a dumb idea,' he thought.

	Footsteps behind him pattered, caught up, and then he was looking 
down at her eyes.  Such dark eyes.

	"Hi..." she said faintly, dimples looking very warm, in the hues of 
the setting sun.  In this light, her brown hair was highlighted at the 
edges with a deep, rich gold.  
	"Will.  Anh.  Well, uh.  I'm, Ukyo Kuonji... I just turned 
seventeen last week.  Ah.  I cook okonomiyaki - it's my martial art."  

	She licked her lips once, twice.  

	A genuine smile from him at last, at last something that was like 
the Ranma she loved.  It was beautiful.

	"You don't say?"

	"Yup," she nodded.  "I've practiced cooking it all my life.  You 
could say that it's the family business.  I like the color violet..."  
Her voice strengthened, and moments after he took her hand as they 
resumed walking, her grip grew steadily firmer.

---

	It was dark all around him, expect for the small, glowing circle 
his chair was at the center of.  There was a spotlight on him, coming 
from a lamp so far above that he could not see it.  The lamp was hot, but 
he was cold.

	He clutched at his head, elbows on his knees, fingers digging 
painfully at his skull.  

	'Open your eyes.'

	"No."

	He could feel it, the circle around the chair he sat upon was 
growing smaller.  "No, please."  Why was his voice so weak?  
	Cold sweats, the shivers clung to the insides of his arms, the 
backs of his knees, trickled down his cheeks and brow.  Fear flickered in 
and out, a chill liquid fear that tainted his blood, injected from the 
pinpricks at the back of his neck, at the base of his spine, black, icy 
fear.

	There was the intrusion of a new sensation, a breeze, then a wind, 
and more.

	'Open your eyes.'

	He only tried to push his palms into his eyes with that much more 
force.  

	Then the circle

	                Grew

	                     Smaller

	                            Was

	                              Gone...

	And he tried to grab at the seat but that was gone too and...

	He was falling, endlessly.

---

	Akane flinched as she snapped upright.  She lay back down, 
wondering what had woken her.  Was it moaning?  But no, she heard nothing 
- 

	There it was again.

---

	Holding him, someone was holding him - a gentle, rocking motion.

	"Shhh.  It's just a bad dream, Ranma.  Don't... don't cry, please 
wake up, please."

	He gasped, clutching his way to wakefulness, clutching away from 
the darkness, and -

	"S-sorry, I didn't mean to..." he scooted away from her, blushing 
visibly in the moonlight.

	Akane closed her eyes, very, very determined to count down from 
ten, slowly, breathing deeply all the while.  Her arms covered her chest 
defensively and her teeth still ground together as she said, "Just this 
once, I will forgive you for that."  

	She would never have admitted to how it had almost felt good, for a 
moment, to feel his hands on her, there and most particularly THERE.  
Somewhat guiltily, she hoped that he did not notice the way her nipples 
had stiffened beneath his palms, with just the thin cloth of her pajamas 
between skin and skin.  

	She swallowed, shook her head, calmed herself as much as she was 
able.  
	"Nightmares?"

	"... Yes.  Thanks for waking me."  He looked down and mumbled, "I'm 
really sorry, I didn't mean to grope you, um."

	Just once, she wanted to hear him say, "What would I grope an 
uncute sexless tomboy like you for?"  Because at least then she could 
respond with anger, could just respond with something safe.  Instead of 
imagining what it would be like if he still remembered that Thursday - 
and what could have happened instead of his shying away.

	"Don't do it again."  She gave him her best angry glare, trying to 
focus on the indignation she had felt at discovering that he had spent 
the whole day with Ukyo and was somewhat satisfied by the way he scooted 
further away in response.  But she was startled when she heard herself 
say, "Not without my permission."  Oops.

	"Uh, well.  Uh."  Ranma's eyes were very wide at that point.  
"Well," he said hastily, "I have to go back to sleep now."

	She turned to leave, stopped and sat back down next to his futon.

	"You were with Ukyo today."

	"Yes."

	"On a date."

	"Yes."

	"Aren't you even going to try to defend yourself?"  Low anger was 
creeping back into her voice.  Very quickly.  "Well?"

	He shrugged in that new way of his that was increasingly starting 
to annoy her.  "I wanted to remember her."

	Akane ground her teeth together audibly.  "I SEE."

	"Softly, Akane.  You don't want to wake your sister, do you?  She 
has to worry about exams tomorrow."

	She sighed, crossing her legs as she got more comfortable on the 
floor.  "You're right.  Jerk."  The Ranma she knew would never have paid 
attention to something like that, and the anger she felt bled away as it 
brought home how different this person before her was from the one she 
had known for so long now.  
	"So do you remember her?"  She had almost said, 'Wouldn't you 
rather remember me?' instead, but controlled herself.

	"Who?"

	"Ukyo, stupid."

	"Only little pieces, fragments - all of them from when we were 
children.  I am startin' ta remember things about you, tho'"

	"W-what?"

	"I remember getting hit, actually."

	Akane fought to ignore the burning in her eyes, the desire to deny 
it.  To try to force him to remember more than the things she regretted.  
"Ranma..."

	"Other things, too, a few things.  Like how nice to me you were 
before you knew I was a guy."

	Damn.  "Ranma..."  That warmth in his eyes again, it was 
paralyzing.

	"Tomorrow, I'm going to meet Shampoo."

	That stung.  "Why?"

	"... I need to know all of my fiancées, don't I?  Before I choose?"

	It took effort for her to regain control of her breath.  "Talking 
to the new you is like being on a roller-coaster."

	He grinned rakishly - it was so out of place that Akane did not 
know what to make of it, of him anymore.  "I'm that breath-taking, am I?"

	"BA-"
	"Remember, your sister needs her sleep." He crept closer to her and 
lay back on the futon, drawing the blankets over himself.

	"... Baka."  Her fingers were pressed so hard into her palms that 
it was starting to hurt.

	"You seem shocked."

	'Why can't I just tell him?'  She spent a long while staring at 
him.  "This is... pretty sudden.  Wanting to settle the fiancées thing so 
soon - you haven't had to deal with it for more than a few days since you 
woke up."

	He shrugged.  "My Mother made it clear, how disappointed she was in 
the way things were."

	"Ranma, I, well."

	Ranma turned onto his side, cheek propped against his palm, 
lounging in a way that reminded Akane of a cat.  "Go on."

	Too dangerous, too scary, she just couldn't bring herself to say 
it.  "Well, what did you think about her?"

	"Who?"

	"Ukyo."

	Ranma faced away from her, resting on his other side instead.  "She 
really wants me to remember."

	"So do I!" Akane burst out, "I mean, I"

	"You're getting loud again."

	She wanted so badly to drive her knuckles into his skull at that 
point, but it was bad enough already.

	"... Sorry."

	"How were we together?"

	Akane started rubbing slow circles around her throbbing temples 
with her thumbs.  "Why do you ask?"

	"I lied, I don't remember much about you at all."

	"What!"

	"Everyone tho' - everyone keeps on tellin' me stuff about you and 
me.  Different things.  That you're violent, that you overreact and hit 
me a lot," he was glad she could not see his smile as he could feel her 
obvious embarrassment in the air, "of course, it's mainly Ukyo who was 
telling me that stuff.  Well, Ukyo and Nabiki."

	She licked her lips.  "I'm gonna kill her."

	"I paid her for that info and, boy, she's not cheap.  Our parents 
just keep on going on about how you're such a loving fiancée."  
	His demeanor changed, hardened.  "Is it true that you hated it that 
our Dad's arranged this without asking us?  That you don't want to be 
engaged to me?"

	"Anh, well.  Is that what Ukyo told you?"

	"They all said that that's what you SAY to me all the time.  Not 
just Ukyo.  But she and Nabiki also both think that you may feel a little 
differently from the way you seem.  I think it took a lot for Ukyo to 
admit that."

	"... but Ranma, you're my... you're..."

	"You're very pretty, you know."



	"Um," she responded at last.

	"People tell me inconsistent things, confusing things.  So why did 
I always used to call you names and stuff?"

	Almost to herself, Akane said, "I wondered that a lot, too."

	He let out a long sigh.  "I'm actually under the impression that I 
didn't use to be a very nice person."

	"Why?"

	"So many people want to fight me... or just give me these hostile 
glances and - our teachers call me a delinquent, my mother, my father, 
your father, they tell me how I've disappointed them before, the way I 
behaved towards you and the other girls."

	There was something new in his voice.  'Is he crying?' Akane 
thought.  She started to reach for him, drew back when he wiped at his 
eyes.  Tentatively, she said, "Well, you did have a few rough spots, but 
you weren't all that bad, really."

	"People I don't remember, they make all these demands of me.  Ukyo 
at least, I know lov- ah, feels a lot of real concern for me.  That's why 
I spent a lot of time with her today."
	'I feel a lot for you, too,' she didn't say.

	"Sorry, Akane.  I've been keeping you up.  Thank you for waking me 
- I just wish I could remember the nightmares, afterwards."

	Shakily, she got to her feet.  "It's no problem, Ranma."

	She hesitated before closing the door behind her.  "Uh, Ranma?"

	"Goodnight, Akane."

	"Goodnight, Ranma."

	When she closed the door behind herself, Akane slid bonelessly to 
the ground, hugging her knees to her chest and rocking slowly back and 
forth on her heels.

	She sniffed.  

	"I want you back, you jerk."

---

	Combination after combination of kicks and punches was blocked 
easily, no matter how hard Ranma tried to keep the pattern unpredictable 
by shifting from high to low, from side to side, using the huge number of 
kinds of kicks he knew, from every style he had ever run across.  The 
drumbeats of his heart were racing, uncontrollable.  

	They broke apart, and Ranma tried to come up with a different 
strategy - the other way was tiring him too quickly and he was not 
getting even close to penetrating the other's defense.

	The other was shifting, feinting at that point - he was targeting, 
what?  Normally, fighters had to shift their shoulders or feet for 
balance prior to any attack, it was a way to predict what the other would 
do.  Not this enemy.  He did not seem to follow any of the rules!

	'My left temple!' Ranma yelled in his thoughts as he dropped, 
raising his forearm to parry as quickly as he could, as quickly - 

	A kick, coming in faster than he had ever seen anyone move.  

	He spun through the air, struck anyway, and fell to the ground, 
blood from the cut spraying a little.  

	It was painful to open his eyes and know he was on the ground, eyes 
at the level of the other's black combat boots.  The unfamiliar taste of 
dirt and losing was in his mouth.

	The other extended an open hand towards him.

	'So damned tall!' Ranma thought as he refused it, clutching at his 
skull painfully as he got back to his feet on his own.  

	"Anything Goes values honor as little as it values a single set of 
forms," the other's deep voice boomed.  "Fight with honor, Ranma, as you 
should.  Not as Happosai designed the school."

	"I know honor!" Ranma cried out.  "Wh-"

	That blurred, red fist again - Ranma parried it, just barely, 
stumbled back a few feet from the power of the blow.  'Even with the 
Chestnuts training, my hand speed just isn't enough!'

	"Nothing you have or know is enough against me, Ranma."

	"What?"

	"I am as far beyond Happosai and Cologne as they are beyond you."

	Ranma's left knee nearly gave.  'He hit me there - when?  As he was 
blocking my kicks?'

	It had only been a few minutes since they had begun.

	The young man spat to one side, ignoring the reddish tinge.  "Then 
what's the point of your challenging me?"

	"To drive you to a level you have never even seen, to show you the 
true path of fists, my child."

	"STOP CALLING ME THAT!"

	One step.
	Two steps.
	The other was running towards him, terribly fast.

---

	"The true path of fists?"

	Ranma nodded.

	The old woman tilted her head.  "It is but a figure of speech for 
the Art, Ranma.  Surely that's obvious to one who has trained since he 
could walk.  Why do you ask?"  

	"... I heard it in a dream last night.  So where's Shampoo?"

	The crooked, toothy smile of the other was oddly friendly.  "She's 
just getting dressed.  Never waited for a girl getting ready for a date 
before, son-in-law?"

	"I don't remember."

	In the distance, the squawking of a caged duck was easily ignored.

	Slowly, Cologne let out a breath.  "Ranma, I have heard that you 
lost to both Kuno and Ryoga.  I understand that you may not remember all 
of your skill, but the law would allow them to ask me for Shampoo's hand, 
if I chose to apply it.  Is that what you want?  Because there are ways 
for me to help you to regain your memories..."

	He looked oddly miserable when he replied, "I don't know what I 
want.  I don't think I want to remember any more than I do.  It's already 
too much."

	"Ah.  It is, of course, your decision, son-in-law."

---

	And they were flying together, or they may as well have been.  

	The wind whistled in his ears, stung his eyes, the occasional 
queasy sensation from his stomach insisting that he was falling easily 
overwhelmed by the sheer glee, the freedom of this chase.  

	Ranma laughed as he took an impossibly long leap towards a building 
three rooftops away, smiling as he felt the other following.  His heart 
was racing, but not in a bad way.  His legs burned with the effort of 
racing like this, but he had to admit that he liked it.

	Just a little too far, he misjudged the distance, landing somewhat 
awkwardly at the edge of the next roof, nearly losing his balance.  But 
he could not say that he was displeased when the other's full strength 
tackle knocked him down onto the roof.

	"Hah!  You lose!  You is still, anh, you are still my husband!" she 
yelled, pinning him down, most of her weight resting on his hips, her 
hands holding his wrists down against the concrete.  

	He grinned.  "Fiancée, not husband.  Not yet."

	She looked crossly at him for a moment, but smiled as well.  "How 
is hus..."  She stopped to lick her lips, slowly.  "How are you, my 
husband?"

	"Fine.  I still can't remember anything, tho', and how are you?"

	Shampoo leaned down, her face very, very close now to his.  "Upset 
that you squeeze out of Amazon law.  Again."  She smirked.  "But happy."

	"Why happy?  And which law in particular?"

	"That you not, ah, you're not pushing me away.  And law says that 
wife must always be able to catch her man - keeps man from taking too 
many wives and shaming her.  Otherwise, husband's mother might say wife 
unworthy."

	Ranma tried to ignore how good she smelled - how good she felt 
against him, too.  "I can't imagine any normal guy wanting to push you 
away."

	"... well, maybe Shampoo... maybe I was pushing myself onto you a 
little too much, before.  Almost forced you into things, guess you didn't 
like aggressive women."  Her toothy grin was remarkably bright in the 
morning sun.

	"Everyone said that you couldn't speak straight, but -"

	"Ah," she shivered for a moment.  "Secret Amazon language learning 
techniques.  Special shiatsu points for memory retention.  Very painful.  
Shampoo, ah, I mean - I speak much better today than I did even a week 
ago.  The only reason I wasn't with you as soon as you were awake was 
training.  Great Grandmother, ah, well, she decided that main reason you 
didn't like me was that I sounded like," she screwed up her expression 
distastefully, "a bimbo."

	"They said that you usually dressed like one, too."

	"Well," she said slowly, "It's not like underwear is a common 
commodity at my home village.  But I is, er, I am dressed okay now, 
right?"  Her eyes widened nervously.

	"Perfectly normal average teenager," he nodded, "except that no 
average teen could make a plain white T-shirt and jeans look almost 
scandalous like you do."  He took a rather blatant glance at the thin 
material stretched tightly across her chest, noting the presence of the 
rather ordinary-looking bra beneath it.

	Her smiled drooped.  "Can no help what body look like.  Ranma no, 
um, you don't like how I look?"  She pouted, glancing down at her chest 
herself.  
	She had never thought that was a problem before.  Usually, it was 
something she was distinctly proud of.  The single ponytail she had 
pulled her long, purple hair into swung over her shoulder, draped onto 
his chest like a soft veil of silk threads.  There was a chill breeze in 
the air, but she felt very warm.

	Her hair smelled so good.  "I was kidding.  You aren't a bimbo - 
you aren't really much like what everyone said you were.  And there are 
no problems with your body - you look great."  He abruptly shifted a 
little nervously.  
	'Maybe a little too good,' he thought as he stopped ignoring the 
keen sensations of her body pressing against certain parts of his.  
	"Ahm, could you get off now?"

	Her smile grew distinctly slinky, seductive.  "But we just got 
comfortable," she purred, sliding her body a little further up along his.

	"Shampoo, please."

	"Oh, okay," she sighed and got to her feet.  "My husband is a 
prude."  She smiled easily when she offered him a hand.  

	As he let her help him up, he took in the strength of the hand he 
held.  It was a warrior's hand, heavily callused and hard, the nails 
clipped very short and, if not for the slender shape of her fingers, they 
could have easily belonged to a man.  His pinky finger traced along a 
scar across the back of her left hand, so thin it was barely noticeable.  
A scar from a long time ago - he wondered how many she had.  And she was 
only the same age as him.

	"Thank you."  He eyed her down and up slowly, drawing a curious 
look from Shampoo as he admired the way her long, muscular legs widened 
into hips that flared invitingly, tapering again to a narrow waist and 
then widening again at her generous bosom.  Subconsciously, Shampoo threw 
her wide, powerful shoulders back, letting him get a better view.  He had 
always been far too shy to do anything like that before.  

	"Beautiful," he whispered.

	That cinched it.  'Maybe not such a prude anymore,' she thought.  
	Shampoo blushed suddenly, uncontrollably as she crossed her arms 
over her chest.  "Um, it's not that I don't like it, husband, but perhaps 
you shouldn't look at me like that in public."  He blushed, too, at that 
point and she found him cuter than ever.

	He sat down on the edge of the roof and patted the place beside 
him.  

	He stiffened for a moment when she wrapped her arm around his waist 
and leaned against him, but eventually relaxed.  

	"Cologne tells me that the guys who've beaten me can ask for your 
hand now.  What would you do if they did?"

	She jerked upright.  "... Would fight them off.  Or try."

	"But isn't it the law?"

	She opened her mouth, closed it several times.  

	Dark clouds started to move in through the sky, from the east.  
There was little bit of thunder, but it seemed so very far away.

	It was a long time before she spoke.  Haltingly.  Painfully.  
"Ranma... law stopped mattering long time ago.  First time when I go back 
to Joketsuzoku, when I got cursed in the spring - that was my punishment 
for failing to get you.  It was over.  Shampoo only come back for," her 
lip trembled, "for you.  Grandmother come to help but that all.  Sorry, 
so sorry."

	"Sorry for what?"

	"For lying to you.  You're right, you aren't my husband... but, I 
came back because, because Shampoo want, because I wanted... want...  
thought you'd be won over by the honor thing, by... thought you'd come to 
like Shampoo one day, thought..."

	Very gently, he wiped away the drops sliding down her cheeks with a 
deep blue scarf he had pulled from his pocket.  She held his hand with 
both of hers, as he finished.  "So if Ranma want Shampoo to go..." she 
said hoarsely.

	"It's our little secret, then," he whispered to her, breath 
tingling in her ear.  "That the law isn't keeping you here anymore."

	"Ranma?" she was barely breathing.

	"I haven't decided yet.  And until I do, well, you are still one of 
my fiancées, okay?  So, please don't cry.  It doesn't become a warrior."

	She took a deep breath, and flashed him a wide, wonderful smile.  
"No, it does not."

	"So, let's continue our date, okay?  Before it starts to rain?"

	"... Okay.  Ranma?"

	"Yes?"

	"Thank you, beloved." 

	She pressed her lips softly against his cheek once, before leaping 
to the street below, tugging him along with her.

---

	"I shall come for you again, when you are ready."

	Ranma's eyes opened.  

	The wind pounded the windows, howled along the corners of the 
Tendo's home.  It was dark, and the occasional flash of lightning outside 
was ghostly distant.  

	"I'm not ready yet," he said slowly.

	"I know.  But you will be, Ranma."

	"You will be."

---

	"Mrfffh?"

	'Why'd I wake up?'

	Barely any light was coming in through the window - it still must 
have been pretty early.  She glanced at her clock.  "Yup.  Too darned 
early to be awake," she said.  "No jogging for me this morning."  And the 
steady beat of the rain against the rooftop convinced her it was much too 
comfortable in bed to get out.

	Oh yeah.  "And there's no classes today.  The high school's being 
fumigated and re-painted."

	But... it just seemed too peaceful.

	"Well, of course, it's quiet," she said finally.  "Ranma's dad is 
living with his wife.  And Auntie convinced him to stop dragging Ranma 
out of bed in the morning to train, just for a while."  

	She turned onto her side, tossed back and forth, and sighed.

	Akane saw a flash from outside, rubbed her eyes.  

	"Ranma?"

	She got to her feet, stumbling to the window.  And stared.

	Ranma was balanced on one leg, perched atop one of the walls around 
Akane's home.  Ranma was dressed in a white tank top and loose, white 
drawstring pants, soaked to the skin as a harsh wind blew, plastering the 
cloth to her form somewhat revealingly.  

	"What's that idiot doing?"

	Not-so-distant lightning outlined his shape in a ghostly white, and 
Akane was struck by the fierce light in her fiancée's eyes.  There was a 
concentration in them that she had seen only a few times before.   

	Akane gasped when she saw the redhead leap up high, incredibly 
high, arms outstretched as though in flight.  The girl hung in the air 
for long enough so that Akane began to wonder if she was flying.  The 
storm clouds rolling in so quickly above added a distinct power to the 
vision.

---

	"Before physical strength and quickness, Ranma," the giant's voice 
intoned, "before even the tricks of the Art - there is chi.
	"Not chi attacks.  Those are flashy and impressive-looking, but 
there is nothing that you can do with them that could not be better and 
more easily done in another way.  It is not using your energies to 
increase your strength, speed and toughness, as important as that may 
seem.
	"What I mean is chi."

---

	Akane was transfixed as Ranma drifted down, landing gracefully back 
on his perch.  The girl began to run through a complex kata atop the 
wall, a confusing set of motions and strikes that did not seem like 
Ranma's normal, high-speed style.  She was sliding through the movements 
with a slow, painstaking grace that was fluid and, Akane had to admit, 
beautiful.

---

	"Your concentration, the strength of your will.  The ability to 
bring all your strength against the point where it will accomplish the 
most at the time it will accomplish the most.  Timing and the ability to 
truly SEE the opponent at every level.  To see and feel what your 
opponent is about to do.
	"That is chi.
	"That is why, even if my physical speed is actually less than 
yours, I seem to move more quickly.
	"No, fool, not the bakusaitenketsu.  That is a very limited form of 
what I speak.
	"Seeing with the mind's eye, with chi, is more than just looking 
for the weaknesses of an enemy or in a piece of rock."

---

	No, Akane decided.  She was not doing a kata.  Those were not a set 
series of forms - Ranma was doing each movement as it came to her, 
spontaneously, instinctively as she fought an enemy only she could see.

---

	"It takes purity of spirit.  A oneness of yourself, the channeling 
of all your emotions.  You fail now because you are weak and confused in 
spirit, especially, your heart."

---

	Akane nearly fell back with the intensity of the other's cry.

	It sounded like, "What do you know about my heart?"

	But Akane was paralyzed as she watched Ranma scream.  And when 
Ranma took to the sky once more, Akane lost her for a moment, as 
blindingly bright light washed over everything in her field of vision, 
and a deafening crack in the air sent her to the floor, skidding 
backwards on her buttocks as she covered her ears.

	"Oh dear god, Ranma!" 

	When her vision cleared, Akane saw Ranma standing where a tree in 
their yard used to be, shattered in smoking pieces that surrounded the 
martial artist.  Sparks danced up and down along Ranma's limbs, though 
her clothes seemed untouched, unburned; Ranma had never looked so 
beautiful.

	Her eyes turned Akane's way, and they held each other there, for 
one long moment.

	Ranma fell to her knees, exhausted.  How long had she been there, 
she wondered.  How long before the sound of the other girl's footsteps 
had come closer and closer?

---

	He opened his eyes.  Again, the ceiling first, the knowledge that 
he was in a bed.  The sensations.  Touch and smell.  Warm.  
	'I must have passed out.'

	He swallowed once, when he noticed the raven-haired girl sitting 
beside his bed, eyeing him closely.  She was holding his hand, stroking 
the backs of the knuckles with her thumb.

	"Jerk.  You always make me worry about you.  What were you doing 
out there?"

	'Finding my heart,' he almost said.  
	"Trying to remember."

	"Was it worth almost getting fried by lightning?"

	Ranma smiled faintly.  
	"I'm too good for it to touch me."

	Akane blinked, felt her heart constrict.  That had to be something 
only the old Ranma would say.  "Do you remember?"  
	Disappointment warred with relief when he shook his head.

	"I realized something, this morning, Akane."  He looked at their 
entwined hands, and when she, blushing, tried to pull away, he held on.  
"I am not ever going to remember everything.  Because, that was a 
consequence."

	"Of what?"

	"Of my winning."

	"What?"

	"I didn't lose that match against the stranger, Akane.  I won.  The 
reason why he had to bring me here, unconscious, why I lost my memories - 
it's because of the lesson I asked him to teach me."  He let go of her 
hand, looked at his own.  "I wasn't such a good student."  He smiled 
sardonically.  

	She was struck by how much larger he seemed, and suddenly realized 
that he was projecting chi in the same way the stranger was.  Akane 
licked her lips.  "Isn't there, isn't there any way?"

	"Yes.  But," he interrupted her before she could speak again, "I 
won't do that."

	She looked away.  "Why not?"

	"Akane, am I so very terrible, the way I am?  The changes in me - 
they were because of things I asked the stranger to take away.  Things 
that unbalanced me, like the confusion in my.  Like the confusion in my 
heart.  The blindness I had for certain things.  The arrogance.  They 
held me back as a martial artist, and I asked him to take them away."

	"But... but," her lips trembled noticeably.  "But what about us?  
You asked him to take away the memories we had together, too?  Weren't 
there good times?  Things that made you stronger?  Ranma, please..."

	"I don't remember what those were," he said evenly.  "But I think I 
can guess why I asked him to take those memories away, too.  Because a 
lot of the confusion in me came from my not being able to choose between 
the three of you.  I asked him to level the playing field for the three 
of you.  So that I could get to know you girls all over again.  This 
time, to do it the right way."

	Akane held her breath.  "Does that mean you've chosen?"

	He smiled.  "No.  But I'm on my way there, finally.  For the first 
time in my life, I am at peace."

	"... How long before you choose?"

	"Six days, Akane-chan."

	"Why six?"

	"... because, on the seventh day from now, the Devil's coming for a 
rematch."

	It took him a long time to calm her down, to make her realize that 
she could not change his mind.  This was a match that was about more than 
honor.  It was about his life.  It was about taking control of his own 
destiny, and drifting and wandering no longer.

	When she finally left, he smiled quietly as he thought of the three 
of them in his heart.  

	His eyes burned with the fire inside.

	"I am Ranma Saotome," he said firmly.  "Master of the Art, of the 
True Path of Fists.  I will not lose."

--- the end???

Well, I hope you folks liked it.  Before anyone asks, "Why the Devil?" 
let me head those questions of by saying - 'coz I damn well felt like it.  
Plus, if I ever do a follow-up, I guess that's something I'll explain.