The Wheel of Fire, #31: Dream Stalkers 

  Written by Razorclaw X (spiceoflife@NYChotmail.com) 
  http://www.crosswinds.net/~slythe/ranma/ranff.html 
  Disclaimer: Ranma 1/2 and characters belong to Rumiko 
Takahashi. And all that other good stuff. Proper 
licenses belong to respective properties and 
characters. The manga has precedence over material in 
the anime. 
  This file can be freely distributed so long as it 
appears in its complete form and proper credit given. 
No part may be reproduced for monetary gain without 
permission from the author. 

  Fanart can be found at: 
    http://www.crosswinds.net/~slythe/fanart/index.html 

------------------------------------------------ 

"We always admire the other fellow more after we have 
  tried to do his job." -- William Feather 


  "Sir Mousse!" 
  When he heard the sound of his name the Master of 
Hidden Weapons emerged from his stone-walled house, 
his hands folded together under the concealment of his 
long-sleeved robes. Wrinkling his nose slightly to make 
sure his glasses were on Mousse looked around, finding 
the source of the shout coming from a perimeter sentry. 
  The sentry was a girl of no more than fourteen years 
of age, but she was an Amazon-- a member of a tribe 
whose women were phenomenally strong. Despite her 
youth and looks the sentry girl was a skilled fighter, 
and that alone more than qualified her for her duties, 
limited though they were. 
  "Okay, Paste," he began, remembering the girl's name 
on the spot, "give me a good reason why I shouldn't 
punish you for abandoning your post?" 
  Unfazed by the threat of punishment, Paste bowed 
respectfully to Mousse. Although she was catching her 
breath, the weapons master admired her for maintaining 
her demeanor. "We've caught spies!" 
  "Spies?" Mousse echoed. "Why was I not informed 
sooner?!" 
  "They should be coming in about now!" the sentry 
added quickly, pointing back the way she came. 
  Mousse adjusted his glasses, trying to focus in the 
direction where Paste was pointing. Sure enough, a 
small band of warriors-- kids, really-- were bringing 
in someone... or someones. As they approached he could 
make out the two prisoners, secured in a somewhat 
sloppy manner in the center of a circle of warriors. He 
mentally reminded himself to reprimand the youths for 
their poor sense of judgement later; the prisoners had 
his full attention now. 
  The Master of Hidden Weapons did little to hide his 
amusement as one of the prisoners, Ranma Saotome, 
yelled at his captors in vain-- in a language they did 
not understand. Very few of the tribesmen learned 
multiple languages, but it proved to be a great 
advantage when dealing with outsiders; Mousse himself 
was fluent in Japanese. 
  The second prisoner Mousse recognized, having met her 
on the night before he started home for China. Although 
she still wore the same traveling cloak as before, 
Hokuto Takemasa's dress changed to a Chinese-style of 
loose clothing, doing little for her modest figure. It 
was probably for the best; sometimes the girls, in 
their incomprehensible manner, became jealous of such 
attributes in other girls. 
  He did not have to wait long before Ranma recognized 
him. 
  "Mousse!" the captured martial artist yelled. "Am I 
glad to see you!" 
  "Where'd you find them?" Mousse asked Paste. 
  "They were heading this way," the sentry explained. 
"The loud one," she continued, pointing at Ranma, "kept 
saying your name, for whatever reason. Is he a friend 
of yours?" 
  The Master of Hidden Weapons smirked slightly, 
suddenly finding great amusement in the situation. 
  "Excuse me, Mr. Mousse," Hokuto said, surprising all 
the warriors save Mousse, "but aren't you going to help 
us out?" 
  Nodding to himself, he replied, "Your Chinese is 
pretty good." To the warriors he ordered, "Stand down, 
and resume your posts! They're guests of mine!" 
  Paste stared at Mousse for a moment, disappointment 
in her eyes. He knew what the young warrior was 
thinking, and it was likely the same thing the others 
were thinking, but he couldn't allow them to do 
anything drastic-- yet. Silently, the warriors 
disbanded and retreated from the area, leaving Mousse 
alone with Ranma and Hokuto. 
  Switching to Japanese, Mousse greeted, "I see the 
time's treated you well, Ranma Saotome!" 
  Ranma shrugged, pretending to be unconcerned with the 
pleasantries. "Eh, same 'ol, same 'ol. That kind of 
stuff." 
  "Thank you for your hospitality," Hokuto said, bowing 
respectfully. 
  Mousse waved a hand. "There's no need for that! It's 
just too early for that, really. The first thing I want 
to know is why you're here. THEN maybe you can thank 
me." 
  "Oh, that's right," the girl said, a slight tone of 
apology in her voice. "You're all at war." 
  "Yeah," agreed Ranma. Looking around from side to 
side, he asked, "Where's Shampoo and the ghoul?" 
  It was then that the amusement died from Mousse's 
attitude. He turned to walk away, muttering over his 
shoulder quietly, "This way." 
  He lead the two guests through the tribal village- 
turned-military camp. Ignoring the wonderment and 
puzzlement in their gestures and words Mousse lead them 
past several burnt-out fire pits and poorly-erected 
canvas tents. He came to a stop at the entrance of the 
largest of the tents, and gently pulled the flap aside. 
  "Whatever you do," Mousse warned quietly, "don't make 
too much noise." 
  Hokuto nodded quickly, but Ranma simply shrugged. 
  The weapons master dreaded entering the tent, but it 
was the quickest way to get his message across. Rows 
upon rows of cots lined the inside of the tent, all 
spaced in such a manner to maximize cot space and 
minimize walk space. Several injured warriors, 
casualties of battle in various states of pain, rest 
in most of the cots, with an attendant here or there to 
see to their needs. Mousse knew the tent was 
understaffed, but the majority of the villagers were 
warriors, not medics; that task was left to the elderly 
and the very young. 
  He gave a silent nod in the direction of Lung-lung, 
who saw him enter. She lay on a cot not far away, 
recovering from a nearly-fatal wound from a battle two 
weeks prior. The slashing wound in her side did little 
to shatter her pride-- rather, it elevated it. Having 
tasted her first true battle scar Lung-lung was eager 
for more; Mousse understood the feeling perfectly, the 
battle lust. Her twin sister, Ling-ling, however, was 
disappointed in herself that she had not shed her own 
blood, but the weapons master assured her that it 
really wasn't something to look forward to. 
  "Geez," Ranma muttered. "This's bad." 
  "This way," Mousse ordered, walking through the rows 
of cots. Both guests followed slowly, looking upon the 
faces here and there. Somehow he hoped they were 
understanding completely. 
  The trio came to a halt before one cot, singled-out 
from all other cots by virtue of the space surrounding 
it. The cot, occupied by a once-proud warrior, shook 
along with the visible quaking emanating from within 
the girl. Beside the cot was a small table, a half-full 
cup of coffee and a thermos resting within arm's reach 
of the cot's occupant. 
  "Shampoo." 
  The cat-like warrior simply stared up at the ceiling 
of the tent, seeming to barely acknowledging the 
presence of visitors. 
  "Ugh, Shampoo...." Ranma whispered. "What happened?" 
  "Looks like too much coffee to me," Hokuto pointed 
out, her finger jabbed toward the table. 
  Mousse nodded in confirmation. "She's been like this 
all week." 
  "So don't give her coffee," suggested the Japanese 
martial artist. 
  "No, the coffee's not the problem," the weapons 
master corrected, shaking his head. "She needs the 
coffee to stay awake. Shampoo hasn't slept all week." 
  "Why not?" asked the Shadow Weaver. 
  Looking back and forth, Mousse checked to make sure 
he wasn't being watched. Although it seemed silly, he 
felt there was someone watching him, even though no one 
in the tent was paying any attention to him. Despite 
the feeling, he explained, "Ever since she took over 
the leadership of the tribe, Shampoo's gotten some 
really bad nightmares." 
  "Oh, really?" Ranma said, genuinely curious. 
  "Look around, Saotome!" he continued, gesturing 
around the tent with his arms. "Do you see any real 
leaders around here?" 
  Scratching his head, he replied, "Come to think of 
it, where is the old ghoul?" 
  Mousse shook his head. "I've got no clue! But, ever 
since she disappeared a week ago, anyone who's taken up 
the role of leader in this tribe succumbed to vicious 
nightmares. In effect, they were being made less- 
effective because something was ripping them apart from 
the inside." He gestured toward Shampoo. "A few days 
ago Shampoo realized this, and declared herself the 
new leader after everyone became aware of this." 
  "But she hasn't slept," Hokuto realized, "so she 
hasn't succumbed to the nightmares." 
  "Precisely," replied Mousse. "The others who tried to 
take over are in comas. Shampoo knows that more will 
suffer if she fails, so she's not going to allow 
herself to succumb." 
  "But you're the one callin' the shots now," Ranma 
pointed out. "How come you're not affected?" 
  The Master of Hidden Weapons, reminded of the threat 
of prying eyes, looked around before breathing a word. 
"Keep it down! Nobody knows that outside the tribe!" 
  "I get it," the Shadow Weaver said, picking up on 
what Mousse had in mind. "So long as whoever's sending 
the nightmares doesn't know the leadership's changed, 
you won't get hit." 
  "At least, that's what he hopes," Ranma muttered. 
  "We're just buying time here," Mousse added. "Shampoo 
can't stay awake forever, and we don't know which of 
our enemies is sending the nightmares over here." 
  "Speaking of which," interrupted Hokuto, "what is the 
state of the Valley?" 
  For a moment Mousse was amused that the outsider girl 
was thinking of the bigger picture. He adjusted the rim 
of his glasses slightly. "You should at least know that 
thirteen tribes make up the Valley," he began. "It 
began back when the balance of power was broken." 
  Mousse looked toward Ranma regretfully. "We did that, 
you know." 
  The martial artist nodded. "Yeah, I remember... that 
last time we came here." 
  "Our THOUGHTLESS actions," he continued, thinking to 
put more emphasis on the stupidity of his previous 
actions, "created a power vacuum. While it wasn't so 
readily-apparent when we saw Herb last time it was 
there, and certain individuals were taking advantage of 
it." 
  "In the past three tribes made up much of the control 
spectrum of Cistern Valley: the Phoenix Mountain tribe, 
the Musk Dynasty, and this tribe. But, the other two 
tribes mostly kept to themselves, yet the threat of 
attack from them was always present. Our tribe was the 
only one in constant view of the other ten tribes, and 
it took but a single moment of weakness for them to 
capitalize on it. Underneath the tables alliances were 
being formed, for what the other tribes lacked in total 
power they attempted to make up in numbers." 
  "Just when Nemesis was unleashed the war broke out at 
home, and we were summoned to assist, as were all 
tribesmen traveling abroad. Needless to say, I couldn't 
go back at the time, but in the span of time until my 
arrival it seemed that the Musk and Phoenix tribes took 
active interest in the affairs of the tribes once 
again. Alliances were redrawn, causing great confusion; 
nobody knew who the real enemy was, or who started the 
conflict in the first place. Today... it degenerated 
into something much simpler: someone has to win." 
  "It's unlikely that the war can stop now, it seems," 
Hokuto realized. "A cruel fate your peoples must 
suffer." 
  "So what is it, a thirteen-way war?" Ranma wondered. 
  Mousse shook his head. "More like an eight-way 
stalemate. Last week a mediator from the Tunnel Tiger 
tribe went around to all the other tribes, requesting a 
peace summit to somehow dissolve the pointless fight. 
Since the prides and egos of each of the tribes were at 
stake, and nobody truly wished to war, the suggestion 
was readily accepted." 
  "It didn't work out," Ranma guessed. 
  "The old ghoul went to the summit," the weapons 
master continued, nodding slightly toward Ranma. "Each 
tribe sent a representative-- one who displayed a great 
deal of strength and power. They left for a location 
secret to all but those leaders, and it was for that 
reason nobody knows why they didn't come back." 
  "Someone took out all the leaders," Hokuto added. "If 
you take out the head, the body dies along with it." 
  "Only for some of them," Mousse corrected. "Some of 
the lesser tribes panicked themselves into alliances 
with the stronger tribes to stay afloat. But to the 
others it was an opportunity-- a time to seize the 
leadership. We've gotten reports that one of the tribes 
actually fractured itself into two parties, further 
weakening it. And the chain of command here wasn't ever 
an issue, until the nightmares started attacking. Since 
then many on the chain passed to their lessers to save 
their own skins." 
  "So who do you think did it?" asked Ranma. "Don't you 
think it's these Tunnel Tigers?" 
  "It may very well be them, but Pantyhose Taro didn't 
seem to be the type to bid for leadership." 
  "Pantyhose Taro? He's workin' with them?" 
  "They're his tribe," Mousse explained. "He went back 
to them after he found out about the war, and despite 
his reservations it seems he was accepted readily. No 
surprise, considering how good he is-- he's the only 
other one keeping them from being destroyed outright. 
When their tribal leader was taken from them at the 
summit Taro was made the leader quickly. They're 
dangerous enemies, that's for sure." 
  "But that still doesn't rule out the fact that it may 
be them," Hokuto pointed out quickly. "This Pantyhose 
Taro may not be the one responsible, but one of them 
must have done it." 
  "Oh, you wouldn't happen to know if he's sufferin' 
nightmares, would ya?" asked Ranma. 
  The Master of Hidden Weapons shook his head. "We 
haven't actually gotten any reports from our scouts and 
spies concerning the states of that tribe. They're 
pretty good at bottling-up for such a weak tribe." 
  "They're weak, yet they're a big threat because of 
their mysterious ways," the Shadow Weaver interpreted. 
"Since you can't tell what they're doing it makes them 
more dangerous than the Musk or Phoenix Mountain 
tribes." 
  "Speakin' of which," Ranma voiced, interrupting 
Hokuto's train of thought, "Herb's gone, too, ain't 
he?" 
  "Yes," answered Mousse. "The Musk's current 
leadership falls under Sage, the chief advisor." 
  Disappointed, the martial artist seemed ready to 
sulk, but stopped himself. Mousse raised an eyebrow, 
trying to discern a reason that Ranma Saotome could 
want to see the prince of the Musk Dynasty for. 
  His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a 
warning horn, reverberating between the mountain crags 
surrounding the Valley. Both Hokuto and Ranma looked 
back and forth, confused, until they stared at Mousse 
expectantly. 
  "It's a skirmish!" he realized. Looking toward Ranma, 
he ordered, "You're up, Ranma Saotome!" 
  "Uh, right," he stuttered in reply. Shrugging, the 
martial artist glanced in Hokuto's direction. "I think 
you should stay here with Shampoo, where it's safe, 
'kay?" 
  Hokuto nodded slowly. "I understand. Do take care of 
yourself." 
  "Let's go, Ranma Saotome!" Mousse said, heading for 
the tent's exit with an accelerated pace. 

  "They're coming," Sypha warned, holding up her 
scrying crystal ball for Pantyhose Taro to see. "Just 
as you wanted." 
  "That's good to hear," Taro replied, folding his 
arms. "I don't expect the warriors to beat Femme-boy or 
the duck-man." 
  "Then why, my lord?" asked the sorcerer. 
  "The best way to undermine your opponent is to keep 
them away from the real goal," the leader of the Tunnel 
Tiger tribe explained. "How convenient, that two of 
the Amazons' best fighters left the real target alone 
to chase a red herring." 
  He turned to leave, but Sypha stopped him with a 
mere question. "I assume you're going to take care of 
it yourself?" 
  "That's right," Taro answered coolly, without turning 
around to see Sypha's reaction. "If we're going to win 
I'm going to have to put some effort in it, too, you 
see. I hope you'll keep this village in one piece until 
I get back?" 
  The sorcerer bowed respectfully, careful not to drop 
her crystal ball. "As always, Lord Taro." 

  Although she was hardly the only occupant of the 
hospital-tent Hokuto felt relatively alone with Shampoo 
now that Ranma and Mousse left her behind. The medical 
aides were of no consequence to her, as they were too 
engrossed in their myriad tasks to notice one outsider 
paying her respects to the current leader of the 
tribe. 
  Shampoo changed much since she last saw her, the 
Shadow Weaver noted. Hokuto herself felt she was no 
different than before, but she couldn't shake the 
feeling that the Amazon recognized her from before, 
when her weary eyes looked in her direction. 
  "Y... you...." she managed to mumble, amidst the 
caffeine high. 
  "You're stronger than I gave you credit for," Hokuto 
said neutrally. "The sum of your ambitions lies right 
in your hands-- yet you find that you're very powerless 
now, don't you?" She did not wait for Shampoo to 
acknowledge this remark. "Fate has a way of dealing 
cruel destinies to those who are wanting." 
  She bent down on her knees to Shampoo's eye level. 
Whispering, she added, "But I can help you...." 
  Something in the Amazon's eyes lit up, and Hokuto 
knew what the answer was. "I can get rid of the threat 
represented in the nightmares, yes... but there is one 
catch: you have to fall asleep." 
  In a flash defiance rose in Shampoo's expression. 
"N... no...t g...g...going...." 
  "If you don't," interrupted Hokuto, "the nightmares 
will keep coming. Mousse will be next. After him... 
then what? There isn't anyone else brave enough to take 
the risk after him, and you know it; that's why you're 
holding out like this. For that you've earned 
everyone's respect, including Mousse. But, since you're 
so proud you won't admit that; on the other hand, since 
he, too, is proud, he won't admit his newfound respect 
for you, either." 
  She waited for her words to sink in. "So here's where 
you stand: you can continue like this and eventually 
fall asleep, or you can sleep now and help me get rid 
of the threat. This is the only way I'll be able to 
find out who's sending the nightmares. If you fall 
asleep later it might be too late to help your tribe 
survive this stupid war." 
  Before Hokuto could make a move she felt Shampoo's 
lashing hand grab her cloak, and the Shadow Weaver 
suddenly felt the tremor dominating the leader's body, 
as if the coffee somehow worked its way into Hokuto 
through touch. She clamped both her hands down on 
Shampoo's arm, trying to force it steady, but failing. 
The world seemed to shake itself apart in the girl's 
eyes, through the vibration that came from Shampoo's 
arm alone. 
  No words passed between the two girls, but Hokuto 
knew that Shampoo was drifting off rapidly, and time 
was running out. Hokuto slid her hands down Shampoo's 
arm and held her hand firmly, and focused inwardly, 
shutting her eyes to the world. Had her eyes been open 
the Shadow Weaver would have noticed the cup of her 
hands were giving off a faint, green glow. 
  And her world became nothing as Shampoo became 
reality. 
  Her senses dulled around her, and Hokuto immediately 
felt the defense mechanisms in Shampoo's mind break 
away voluntarily. She stood within what resembled a 
padded isolation room, having no discernable exit, and 
Hokuto realized that this was what Shampoo was using as 
her mental barrier construct. The nightmare, she 
guessed, was likely just outside the walls, kept at bay 
only by the force of the Amazon's iron will. 
  But now that the walls of will slowly diminished the 
raking talons of the nightmare became visible, prying 
their way through the cracks in the corners with great 
effort. Hokuto took an involuntary step back, even 
though she knew it was a pointless gesture in the 
mindscape. She reminded herself that the nightmare was 
not after her, but that did not leave out the fact that 
it could; in her trance state Hokuto was just as 
vulnerable as the sleeping Shampoo, if not more, since 
she was in the dream by proxy. Taking this into mind 
the Shadow Weaver thought up of a mental barrier of 
her own, willing herself invisible-- nonexistent to the 
dream-- hoping the nightmare would not notice her 
right away. 
  The ploy seemed to have worked as the nightmare 
finally tore its way into the room. The creature was 
created of a dark, shadowy substance, resembling a 
living, breathing silhouette-- of what Hokuto did not 
know. Only outline features could be made out of the 
nightmare creature, leaving her only the telltale claws 
discernable, along with two head-tails hanging to each 
side and two long whiskers floating about unnaturally 
in the air, emerging from where the head would be. 
Hokuto would have guessed this was some kind of demon, 
but the movements and general shape suggested 
otherwise. 
  The nightmare was human. 
  Silently the invader of Shampoo's mind made its way 
to the center of the chamber-- the center of the 
Amazon leader's psyche. Hokuto kept a fair distance 
from the nightmare, trying to remain unnoticed until 
she was certain she could act and produce results. She 
felt a slight mental tug from Shampoo as the nightmare 
called up the memory sphere. 
  A globe-like object emerged from the ground at the 
nightmare's feet, rising up to just below its head. 
Standing on a steel rod the memory sphere operated in a 
similar manner as a television set-- at least, that 
was how Shampoo perceived it. The nightmare called up 
several memories buried within Shampoo's consciousness 
and began its search for a good selection to pervert. 
  Hokuto resisted the urgings to act, realizing she was 
being prodded by Shampoo's inner trust. She felt the 
urgency of the Amazon through the intensity of the 
mental prod, yet resisted, trying to justify herself 
by explaining that it was not yet time to act. But 
reason was one thing Shampoo could not understand now, 
having become dominated by her emotions. Mentally the 
Shadow Weaver sent a psychic backlash back through the 
prod, hopefully giving her enough jolt to stay away. 
  The nightmare ripped a memory out of the globe with 
its four talons, holding it up in the air for Hokuto 
to see. She watched in tense silence while the shadow 
being pinched the photo-like memory image between two 
talons, manipulating it carefully as if it were fusing 
a circuit board-- a few modifications here, a few 
there, and a terrible memory was born. Hokuto knew 
enough to understand that the modifications were only 
temporary, as the mind resisted the changes adamantly, 
but it would last long enough for the nightmare's 
purposes. 
  It only needed to last long enough to throw Shampoo 
into a mental shutdown. 
  Already the Amazon showed signs of struggling when 
the memory globe began to withdraw itself, but the 
nightmare was quick to hold it in place with its free 
talons. Likely realizing that it had little time to do 
its work the nightmare started ripping into the globe 
at random, tearing out random memories and allowing 
them to float freely in the mindscape, cluttering any 
reason left available to Shampoo. To Hokuto it was no 
worse than ripping out pages from a phone book. 
  She instantly regretted that thought as Shampoo's 
defense mechanisms prodded her again. This time it took 
the form of the Amazon leader herself, appearing quite 
healthy-- yet fear was in her eyes. It was no surprise 
what the intent of the girl was. 
  "What are you doing?!" demanded Shampoo, raising her 
fingers that looked ready to tear at flesh. 
  "Gah!" Hokuto yelped in surprise. "Stay back! You're 
ruining everything!" 
  "All you do is stand and watch!" the leader pointed 
out harshly. "Stop it!" 
  Before Hokuto could act she realized that, no matter 
what she did, it was too late. She barely had time to 
realize that the nightmare slashed at her psychic 
defenses when she hit the floor of the mindscape. By 
reflex she summoned a mental construct-- a desperate 
point-to-point barrier around herself-- to protect 
herself from the mental attacks. 
  "You did well," praised the nightmare, which Hokuto 
noted was female. "Until now I've never met anyone 
with enough power to elude my detection!" 
  The Shadow Weaver had no idea what was going on in 
the chaos of Shampoo's mind. Paying the Amazon no 
heed she stood to her feet, remaining wary with her 
mental barrier in case a stray thought blasted her. 
  Facing the nightmare Hokuto realized she could see 
her. The woman appeared somewhere in her mid-to-late 
twenties, her face masked and accented under a good 
layer of skin-toned makeup, along with ruby-red lips 
and purple-accented eye shadow. Her hair existed in 
volumes, the Shadow Weaver realized, confirming her 
suspicion that the entire lengths of her hair was 
bunched into two nearly body-length pony-tails, each 
swept to one side of the head. As if part of her hair 
escaped the fate of the rest two long strands, one on 
each side over the ear, hung loosely at the sides, but 
danced about in the air as if they had a life of their 
own-- somewhat a visage of the pictures Hokuto 
remembered of dragons. 
  Taking on more similarities to the draconic visage 
the woman appeared thin of frame-- snake-like, even. 
The nightmare wore a flowing, phoenix-red Chinese 
Imperial Court dress, something that appeared to date 
back to maybe the Early Han Dynasty or earlier, with 
Imperial purple accents and bands. Her sleeves, keeping 
with the style, stretched far beyond arm's length, 
almost all the way to the floor. Utilizing this fact 
quite well, the nightmare woman's talons-- actually 
razor-sharp steel claws-- appeared almost real enough 
to be the hands themselves, even though Hokuto knew it 
was an illusion. 
  "Who are you?" she asked finally. 
  Carrying herself in a regal, almost arrogant manner, 
the middle-aged woman started a slow pace in a circle 
around the Shadow Weaver. "Names confer power," she 
baited. "I'm known by many names, little girl, but my 
true name you shall not have!" 
  She gently slid one talon under Hokuto's unmoving 
chin, and the Shadow Weaver found she was too scared to 
move. For a moment she imagined that the nightmare was 
going to kill her then and there, but the smile... the 
eyes... suggested otherwise. 
  "However," the nightmare continued, "you do interest 
me a great deal... Shadow Weaver Takemasa." 
  Hokuto gasped in surprise, but remembered that this 
woman was also in Shampoo's mind, which all three 
presently shared. Consequently, their minds were open 
if they allowed it, but in this case, the nightmare 
broke through Hokuto's defenses without effort. 
  "You made the watchers," she said boldly. "You knew 
we were coming since we got to China." 
  "That is correct," confirmed the nightmare. "We've 
been watching you ever since then. They think you and 
your friend will be the ones to turn the tide in the 
war, but I know better; your purpose is much different 
than what they want. I know what you want." 
  "And what's that?" 
  The nightmare chuckled to herself softly. "Forgive 
me, but I have other business to attend to. But I do 
assure you, we will meet again." 
  Slowly sliding her claw from under Hokuto's chin the 
woman turned to leave, looking over her shoulder in a 
sly manner at the frozen Shadow Weaver. 
  The nightmare disappeared into nothingness in an 
instant, and it was only then that Hokuto allowed 
herself to budge from her place, relaxing her tension. 
  Looking around the mindscape, she spotted Shampoo's 
consciousness lying near the memory globe, which was 
spinning erratically. Hokuto bent down on her knees, 
realizing that the Amazon was still clinging to the 
waking world. 
  "Sorry," the Shadow Weaver said, "but I can't have 
you going about messing things up, now that you know 
those things." 
  Shampoo's eyes widened, shocked when she realized 
what Hokuto was about to do. The Shadow Weaver saw 
this, and while she took no pleasure in what she had 
to do... it had to be done. 
  Her palms pulsating with sickening green energy, 
lightning bolts lanced out and struck Shampoo 
violently, forcing the Amazon into pain. Perhaps it was 
fortunate for Shampoo, and maybe fortunate for Hokuto, 
that the process lasted no longer than a second, if 
even that long. 
  Standing straight up, the Shadow Weaver began to let 
go of her hold in Shampoo's mind. "Yes, we will meet 
again... Zhou Tian-long." 

  "What in the world are you doing?!" 
  Sypha jumped from her seated position, hiding her 
crystal ball behind her back while turning to face the 
one who barged into her tent. "L... Lord Taro!!" 
  Pantyhose Taro tapped his foot ominously on the 
ground, his arms folded, expression grim. "Is there 
something you're doing that you should be telling me?" 
  Quickly regaining her composure, the sorcerer 
slowly brought her crystal ball into Taro's view, 
balancing it carefully on the steel talons of her claw 
arm. "I've done a bit of divining, Lord," she 
explained. "It appears that the Amazons are going to 
attack sometime in the near future." 
  "Attack?!" Taro echoed, surprised. "When?!" 
  Sypha shook her head. "I am unsure as to when, but 
it WILL be soon!" she insisted. She pursed her ruby 
lips and took in a deep breath. "Perhaps even tonight, 
if they can muster their forces quickly. The foreigner 
girl... she must be dealt with! She is a very powerful 
esper...." 
  "I don't care about the girl," the lord of the 
tribe interrupted. "Femme-boy is a joke; he was 
unable to prevent our raid, nor could he beat them. If 
they're stupid enough to want to fight me THIS soon, 
then let them come! They don't have a prayer, without 
anyone with half a brain in their camp!" 
  "As you wish, my lord," Sypha replied, bowing. 
  She kept her head low, waiting. Taro snorted, and 
the sorcerer heard her master turn and leave the tent. 
When she was certain he was gone Sypha raised her 
head, staring out the tent flap. 
  "I look forward to meeting you face-to-face," she 
whispered to herself. "Hokuto Takemasa, we have much to 
discuss... yes...." 

  "I can't believe it," Mousse lamented, dragging his 
feet behind him as he and Ranma headed back for the 
hospital tent. "Those Tigers... and I didn't even see 
it!" 
  "At least leadership didn't make Pantyhose Taro any 
stupider," Ranma added. 
  The scouts had reported an attack just outside the 
village, and naturally, many of the warriors left their 
posts to deal with the threat. However, as they all 
realized too late, the attack at the front was merely 
a distraction for the real attack at the rear-- it was 
reported by the guards of the supply stockade that 
Taro himself lead the attack that sent the building 
up in smoke. The moment the smoke plume lifted from 
the supply house Mousse knew he had been tricked, and 
the diversionary attackers soon fled the scene. 
  "At the rate we're going now," continued the Master 
of Hidden Weapons solemnly, "we're not going to last 
another week, unless we raid someone else's supply 
depot." 
  "Well, it beats...." Ranma started, but Mousse 
signaled him to silence. 
  From the direction of the hospital tent three of the 
young hands were running toward their leader as fast 
as their feet could carry them, yelling out Mousse's 
name in a worried tone. Already Mousse felt the world 
was caving in over him, putting together the single 
situation in his mind that could make the day even 
worse. 
  His thoughts were not far from the truth. 
  "Master Mousse!" cried the leader of the three 
youths, a girl no older than seven named Pin. Her 
proficiency in the Japanese language was readily- 
apparent to Ranma, as he understood as well. "Master 
Shampoo has slipped into a coma!" 
  "What?!" Ranma exclaimed in surprise. "How...?!" 
  Mousse lowered his head, folding his arms beneath 
his sleeves. "I should have known... the Tigers are the 
ones doing it!" 
  Quickly the three youths lead their two elders into 
the tent. Many of the other hands were standing around, 
looks of sadness for expressions, in Shampoo's 
direction. Mousse pushed the outside away from his 
thoughts, focusing on Shampoo alone. 
  She lay on the cot, just as he left her, save the 
shaking in her body ceased, and her eyes were closed. 
Sitting on her knees next to the cot, her head hung 
low, Hokuto Takemasa appeared quite shamed-- for what 
reason the martial artist wished to find out. 
  For a moment, staring down at Shampoo's body, Mousse 
was glad he was wearing the glasses he often forgot to 
wear, for they hid emotion from the others in view, 
particularly Ranma. He resisted the urge to wipe his 
eyes with his sleeve, realizing that he needed to be 
strong in front of the others. 
  Shifting his eyes to Hokuto, he resisted the urge to 
reach down and grab her by the scruff of her shirt. 
"Tell me how this happened... EXACTLY," he commanded 
in a harsh, low tone. The Master of Hidden Weapons was 
in no mood to play games with the outsider, and he 
wanted to make that point doubly clear to the girl. 
  He could not tell if the girl was crying, but if she 
was she was being awfully quiet. When Hokuto did not 
say anything-- or move-- immediately, Mousse swung his 
foot back threateningly. He could almost feel Ranma's 
interference, but the Japanese martial artist was still 
keeping his distance. Counting three heartbeats, and 
with Hokuto showing no moves to comply with his order, 
Mousse gave her a swift blow in the chest. 
  "Mousse!" Ranma yelled. "Don't hit her!" 
  Refusing to meet his eyes, Mousse looked down upon 
the cowering Hokuto. "The time for decency has passed, 
Saotome!" he replied harshly. "I am the master of this 
tribe, and so long as you and your friend are my 
guests, you will do EXACTLY what I say!" 
  "Then I'll challenge you!" 
  Mousse found no amusement in Ranma's words. "Your 
challenge is DENIED." He looked down, and realized that 
the girl was shielding her face from him. "Now, you 
little whore, ANSWER ME!!" 
  He heard Pin whisper a warning to the Japanese man: 
"Don't stop Master Mousse...." 
  The advice seemed to have struck a chord of reason 
in Ranma. "Hokuto," he said slowly, "tell us what 
happened to Shampoo...." 
  If Hokuto had not been crying before, Mousse knew 
she was whimpering now-- her voice betrayed her 
emotions. "It... it was terrible!" she whispered, her 
voice uneven. 
  "You'd better believe it," Mousse warned. "My 
patience these days is rather thin; I suggest you do 
it faster." 
  "Hey, quit being so harsh on her!" Ranma protested. 
  "We noticed nothing out of the ordinary," Pin 
voiced. "We didn't know anything was wrong until this 
girl screamed." 
  Anger flushed through the weapons master's head. 
"Well?" 
  "Give me a sec," replied the girl, wiping the tears 
from her cheeks. Hokuto took her time, dabbling herself 
with the edge of her cloak, but when Mousse felt his 
impatience overflowing she began, "I thought the 
nightmare would come back no matter what happened, so 
I convinced Shampoo to go to sleep now instead of 
later." 
  "You stupid whore!" Mousse yelled angrily, feeling 
the others restraining him from all-out throttling 
Hokuto. "What the hell did you do that for?!" 
  "It was the only way!" Hokuto yelled back defiantly, 
standing up literally on her feet to Mousse. Her eyes 
met his own, and he saw that the girl was serious. 
"I needed to figure out where the nightmare was coming 
from while I was still here, NOT while nobody was 
around to do anything about it." 
  "I hope you at least got SOME result!" the Master of 
Hidden Weapons replied, refusing to concede any credit 
to the outsider's ingenuity. 
  "When Shampoo fell asleep I waited for the nightmare 
to arrive... I can feel it," continued Hokuto, ignoring 
Mousse's comment. "The creature attacked savagely! I 
could almost feel Shampoo's terror as it ripped her 
apart from the inside. Had I not been careful the 
nightmare would've gotten me as well." 
  "And then you woke up," Ranma interrupted. "So what? 
You've put Shampoo in a coma for nothing." 
  "But the nightmare was leaking stray thoughts!" 
Hokuto added quickly, before Mousse could think of 
another angry rant. "The creature... no, person... was 
thinking a name under its surface thoughts... one that 
I can't mistake. It kept repeating 'Taro.'" 
  "There's only one 'Taro' in the Valley," Mousse said, 
"and he's a Tiger." 
  "Looks like you were right," Ranma conceded, cracking 
his knuckles. "That guy needs to be taught a lesson or 
two!" 
  "But Pantyhose Taro doesn't resort to sorcery," the 
weapons master pointed out. "We should know; it's not 
in his style." 
  "So maybe it's someone under him," guessed the 
outsider. 
  "It must be," agreed Mousse. Turning his attention 
back to Hokuto, he asked in a calmer tone, "Did you 
learn anything else." 
  The girl shook her head. "That was it. But I don't 
think you should wait too long to attack them; the 
nightmare will likely go after you now." 
  "I see," he said, irritated that the girl reminded 
him of that little perk of leadership. "Then I guess 
we WILL have to act, after all." 
  "'After all?'" echoed Hokuto, puzzled. "Something 
else happened?" 
  "Pantyhose Taro burned the supply house," Ranma 
answered. "We're going to get him back for it by taking 
HIS food." 
  "It's not going to be THAT simple anymore!" assured 
Mousse. "We're going to get him and his people-- or 
Shampoo's sacrifice will be in vain!" 

  Once, in times long passed, one could walk through 
the grassy plain of the enclosed Cistern Valley on a 
summer night with their bare feet and the barest of 
protective wear, walking amongst nature in serenity. 
Anyone could see the stars above with great clarity, 
as the sky was not contaminated with the pollutants 
that plagued industrialized areas. Even the rough, 
pale features dotting the moon could be made out on a 
clear night, if one looked hard enough. 
  But those times vanished, along with any hope for 
peace amongst the thirteen tribes that lived in the 
Valley. The lush green grass was missing patches here 
and there, whether from the detonation of explosives or 
the mighty blasts of master martial artists. One could 
not walk through the land without having to be careful 
where they stepped, as discarded weapons of various 
origins littered the battlegrounds, threatening to 
pierce the skin of those foolish to step on them. At 
times one could hear a low moan, carried by the wind 
from far away-- the dying cries of a warrior fallen 
and forgotten by his comrades. If a traveler were 
merciful he would give that person a swift death, but 
often that was not the case, as most travelers would 
avoid a potentially dangerous man, even if he was 
mortally wounded. 
  It was here, the center of the star-shaped Cistern 
Valley, that Mousse and Pantyhose Taro agreed would be 
their battleground. 
  Very rarely in the war of the tribes did the leaders 
of two tribes battle personally in a trial of combat-- 
a traditional rule that allowed two tribes to settle 
their differences without resorting to all-out war. In 
most cases the leaders were either too old, too weak, 
or unwilling to fight, resulting in war. The battle 
traditionally took place at the centerpoint of the 
Cistern Valley, the nexus of the thirteen tribes, as 
ordained by the ones who came before. 
  As given by tradition the tribal leaders came with 
an honor guard made up of four people each, creating a 
grand total of five warriors for each side of the 
dispute; more people were allowed to come as well, but 
served only as spectators of the event. In this case it 
was a five-on-five, the two sides facing each other in 
the moonlit sky. 
  Mousse stood confidently ahead of his honor guard, 
made up of two Amazon warriors and the two outsiders, 
with Ranma and Hokuto on his left, and Ling-ling and 
Paste on the right. Although the Master of Hidden 
Weapons had reservations on bringing the outsider girl 
along, Ranma personally persuaded him otherwise, 
citing that she herself did not need to battle. He had 
to agree; although it was required for the leaders to 
duke it out the honor guard battle was at the 
discretion of the warriors involved. 
  Pantyhose Taro stood with equal confidence on his 
side of the battleground, with his honor guard made up 
of three warriors-- each carrying a large, heavy- 
looking backpack-- none which Mousse did not recognize 
off-hand, as the Tigers were not known for their great 
fighters. The fourth, who stood immediately to the 
right and behind Pantyhose Taro, he knew to be Sypha, 
the Chinese woman Mousse knew to be Taro's advisor, 
but that was it. It was she who engineered the original 
peace summit, but apparently Sypha herself did not 
attend-- which put her motives in suspect. 
  "Well, well, well!" Taro yelled from across the 
field. "If it isn't the duck-boy!" 
  Mousse did not allow the words to bother him, folding 
his arms in his sleeves. "Subterfuge... is that what 
you've been reduced to, Pantyhose Taro?" 
  "Don't call me that!" the other leader cried angrily. 
"And you! You're trickier than I first believed; using 
the cat-girl as a decoy as you did. I almost respected 
you for a moment... until I remembered you turned into 
a sissy duck!" 
  "And Femme-boy...!" 
  "Shut up, Pantyhose...!" 
  "ZIP IT!! I expected more out of you, than siding 
with wimps like your duck friend." 
  "Lord Taro," Sypha interrupted, stepping to his side. 
"Do not underestimate the outsiders," she said, raising 
a steel talon in Hokuto's direction, "particularly 
THAT one." 
  "Heh," scoffed Taro, "that girl doesn't look so 
tough. Hardly worth my time, or yours, even." 
  "If she is not dealt with quickly, she could ruin us 
in short order!" warned the sorcerer. 
  "If you're so eager to fight... then by all means!" 
ordered the leader. Yelling back in Mousse's direction, 
he demanded, "Hey, Duckie! How about we switch battle 
partners? Femme-boy is mine; you're not worth my time!" 
  Mousse held an arm out to stop Ranma's protest. "I 
see... but who will take your place as my opponent?" 
  Taro gestured to the side with Sypha on it. "She's 
ALL yours!" 
  "My lord!" she gasped. 
  "If you know what's good for you, you'll pay 
attention when you fight him," her leader continued. 
"Please do give him a good enough fight, will you?" 
  "I believe this should do for the trial?" Mousse 
yelled, adjusting the rim of his glasses. "Surely we 
are the only ones worthy of fighting before you!" 
  "Heh-heh-heh... I'm starting to like you, Duck," 
replied Taro, folding his arms. "It's agreed then!" 
  Mousse looked toward both Ling-ling and Paste, 
nodding, with nods for reply. Casting his eyes in 
Hokuto's direction he said, "Stay out of this, no 
matter how useful you think you'll be... if you know 
what's good for you!" 
  Ranma caught the Amazon leader's attention. "Well, 
let's get this over with," he said, cracking his 
knuckles together. "After this, you and I have to talk 
a bit." 
  "That's for sure," agreed Mousse, reaching up his 
sleeves for weapons. He produced his own pair of razor 
claws, a magical weapon received as a gift. Snapping 
the arm brace on his forearm the leader of the Amazons 
ran his fingers into the glove-like interior of the 
claws, which gave him enough manipulation of the metal 
talons to operate as his own hand. 
  Both he and Ranma walked forward into the battle 
area as Taro and Sypha did the same, breaking off to 
face their respective opponents. Mousse came to a halt 
at the same time Sypha did-- putting the two of them 
at a short distance of three meters, which was close- 
range considering the unpredictable range of the razor 
claws. Since Sypha appeared to have a set of her own, 
the distance was definitely too close for his tastes. 
  Silently he surveyed the woman for the first time. 
Appearing in either her late twenties or early 
thirties, Sypha dressed, instead of a looser combat 
outfit, in archaic Imperial Chinese court dress dating 
back to ancient times, along with the numerous tassels 
and ornaments hanging here and there. While her regal 
dress was hardly appropriate for combat, Mousse sensed 
something amiss with the woman, as if she were hiding 
her true self under the gaudy getup. 
  "So you're the student of devils I've heard so much 
about," Sypha said finally, tapping herself on the 
cheek with the flat of one talon. "Perhaps I was wrong 
to side with the Tigers?" 
  "If you're backing out now...." 
  "Oh, why would I dream of it?!" the woman interrupted 
quickly. "You're much more stone-walled." 
  "What's that supposed to mean?!" demanded Mousse, 
raising his claws in readiness. 
  Sypha tapped the edges of her talons together in 
anticipation, smirking. "It only means I'm going to 
have to rend you into ribbons!" 
  The leader of the Amazons parried Sypha's first 
lunge, surprised at her unexpected reach when she 
charged. He grit his teeth as steel meshed against 
steel. "Then taste the wrath of my cuisenart!" 
  He broke out of the melee, flipping up and backward 
in the air. Halting his spin in mid-air Mousse threw 
three stilettos from the folds of his robes at Sypha, 
but the regal sorcerer quickly dodged. She raised her 
right claw upward, and the weapons master gasped in 
surprise as the weapon launched itself in his 
direction. 
  Throwing a bowling ball upward Mousse forced himself 
in the opposing direction of the force-- downward, and 
away from the launched claw. Landing on his feet he 
watched the launched claw sail back to Sypha's 
position, sliding back under her sleeve as if it never 
left. 
  "Nice trick," he muttered under his breath, "but an 
exploitable weakness...." 
  Squatting low he dug both his claws into the earth 
quickly, focusing his mental target on Sypha's 
position. Had he bothered to look with his eyes at his 
enemy rather than the earth Mousse would have seen the 
giant sword rip through the dirt with great swiftness 
in the place where the Tiger sorcerer used to be. 
Quickly retracting his claws he raised them to catch an 
aerial slash from the descending Sypha, but the force 
of her momentum knocked him to his back. Instead of 
pinning him Sypha leaped over his downed body and 
landed a few meters away. 
  Rolling to the side to avoid another launched claw 
Mousse quickly got to his feet, lobbing three more 
stilettos at Sypha while her claw was still in the 
return cycle. Instead of deflecting she leaped upward, 
and, to Mousse's surprise, the returning claw followed 
a path to match perfectly with the docking into her 
sleeve. Instinctively he dug his claws into the earth, 
forcing several swords to rip up from the ground in a 
circle around him, just as Sypha initiated her dive 
attack. Just at the last moment, however, she managed 
to escape the sword shield, pushing herself back and 
away by launching both her claws toward the swords. 
  Mousse retracted the sword barrier just as Sypha 
recovered her claws, resisting the urge to mop his 
brow. "She doesn't look it," he said to himself, "but 
Sypha's definitely no stranger to fighting." 
  Sypha held out her arm, beckoning the Amazon leader 
with one talon. "Come now; I haven't broken a sweat 
yet!" she taunted, her voice carried by the wind to 
Mousse. "Is this the best your tribe can put up?" 
  "I'm only getting started!" he replied quickly. 
  Before he could attack Mousse stopped himself, 
suddenly realizing that Sypha's full attention was no 
longer on the battle, as her eyes wandered. His own 
eyes followed; gasping, the Master of Hidden Weapons 
realized what the Tiger sorcerer was about to do. 
  Dashing quickly, he yelled, "Hokuto!! Get down!!" 
  Too late to stop her, Sypha bolted from her position 
and rocketed toward where Hokuto was standing, all but 
forgotten in the skirmish. The outsider girl bore no 
expression of surprise on her face, nor of concern, 
even with certain death imminent. 
  And she had all rights to do so, as Sypha came to a 
full stop when Pantyhose Taro stepped between her and 
Hokuto, arms folded. The leader of the Tunnel Tigers 
looked no more weary than when he started the battle, 
nor less in his resolve. Mousse's eyes searched for 
Ranma, but he was not far, and far from hurt in any 
capacity. 
  "What did I say?" Pantyhose Taro said sternly, 
obviously angry. "I told you NOT to touch her." 
  "She is an outsider!" Sypha replied angrily. "More 
than that...!" 
  "Tell him," Hokuto interrupted, extending an 
invitation of truth. "Tell your master why you've been 
scheming behind his back." 
  "What're you talking about?" Taro asked, keeping his 
eyes fully on the sorcerer. 
  "Tell him about the nightmares you've been sending," 
continued the Shadow Weaver in her challenge. "Tell 
him all about how you betrayed the former leader of 
his tribe, and all the other leaders, so the war could 
continue." 
  The eyes of all present fell upon the sorcerer, but 
Sypha, instead of refuting Hokuto's words, chuckled 
softly. "True to your name... Shadow Weaver! I'm not 
surprised you skirted my surface thoughts, but do you 
really know what I want? Do you?" 
  "You...." rumbled Taro, raising an angry fist. 
  "Your idea of a fight involves being physical," Sypha 
told him. "Never the one for the supernatural, you 
scoffed at the aid I offered you. But you, too, are but 
a tool." She produced a crystal ball in her right claw, 
balancing it carefully in the talons. "And frankly, 
your usefulness has long since expired." 
  Without warning the sorcerer raised her free arm in 
the direction of the three Tigers, lifting their heavy 
packs with a force of will. Launching all three in the 
direction of the warriors, Mousse gasped in surprise, 
realizing the contents of the packs was plain, cold 
water; the containers launched a wide stream of water. 
  In the blink of an eye he saw Ranma transform into a 
girl, to the Amazon girls' surprise; he saw Taro 
transform into the monster that gave him strength; he 
saw Sypha disappear, as well. 
  In the moment immediately thereafter, the Master of 
Hidden Weapons understood what Sypha was after. He cast 
a glance in Hokuto's direction, wondering how much more 
the outsider knew about the sorcerer who turned on her 
master, and why she was fixiated on killing her. 
  Although he felt no different than before, the eyes 
of both the female Ranma and the Taro monster were 
fixed on him, surprise betrayed in their expressions. 
  "What're you looking at?" Mousse asked, waving around 
his arms to shake the wetness from his robe. 
  "Mousse," Ranma said slowly, "we're going to have one 
long talk in the morning." 


			*  *  *  *  * 

  Ranma had no idea why he was dreaming of Shizuka 
Minazuki again. 
  She stood silently in the middle of inky blackness, 
dressed in clean, formal priestess dress, staring 
outward at nothing. A single light illuminated her, 
shining from high above, casting the priestess's 
shadow in multiple directions. Ranma noticed that she 
had her two swords sheathed, both tied on the left end 
of her rope-like belt. From his position behind the 
girl he could make out a large double kanji symbol on 
her back, which read "Genbu." 
  He could barely see himself in the blackness, only 
able to see a silouhette of his hand when he raised it 
to block his view of Shizuka. For a moment the martial 
artist wondered why he was no longer the subject of 
the dream, but it was soon replaced with relief; it was 
a good break in the monotony. 
  Shizuka reached up her sleeve, producing a strip of 
paper that served as a talisman-- a device Ranma knew 
that priesthoods used to serve as wards against demons 
and the like, and sometimes weapons, depending on what 
was written upon it. Even from the distance he stood 
away from the priestess of Genbu Ranma could make out 
what the talisman read: "Summon," followed by a blank 
space, which was clearly reserved for another kanji 
character or two. 
  From seemingly out of thin air the priestess produced 
an ofuda rod-- a thin wooden wand with numerous paper 
streamers hanging from the top end. Bending down on her 
knees Shizuka began tracing a circle around herself, 
adding several patterns and characters that made no 
sense to Ranma. Before he knew it she completed the 
circle-- obviously a summoning circle-- and stepped 
out of it. She quickly threw several talismen around 
the outside of the circle-- likely protective wards-- 
and waved the rod around in a seemingly-useless 
manner. 
  Shizuka muttered a few words to herself, which Ranma 
could not make out. He slowly worked his way toward 
the girl as she spoke her mantra, but stopped himself, 
realizing that the priestess would not be happy if he 
somehow ruined... whatever it was she was doing. 
  If she even knew he was there. 
  It did not take long before Shizuka finished her 
mantra, and she threw the summon talisman into the 
circle. 
  The talisman burnt in an instant as soon as it came 
within the radius of the circle, and hellish red light 
glowed from the trace of the circle. Ranma shielded his 
eyes as the intensity of the light grew, but Shizuka 
was making no such action, as if she was used to this 
type of thing. 
  He gasped in surprise when a ghostly, boney, white 
claw reached out from the bottom of the circle, 
seemingly coming from nowhere. The circle, Ranma 
realized, was likely a rift to another world, just as 
Shizuka tried when she summoned a tengu on him months 
before. He watched as the skeletal claw emerged, with 
what it was attached soon following. Although the 
being was noncoporeal, Ranma could not help but sense 
instinctive fear when the monster fully-emerged. 
  Shizuka had not flinched at the sight of the 
skeletal, lizard-like creature. The monster did not 
appear as anything living, Ranma knew, but seemed very 
similar to the dinosaur bones reconstructed at the 
natural history museums. It resembled some sort of 
abhorrent cross between a two-legged dinosaur's body 
with the long neck and tail of a four-legged dinosaur. 
  In addition, the creature gave way to its full wing- 
span, spreading its skeletal wings out majestically, 
inspiring more fear in the martial artist. 
  Worst of all, the creature was way too big for the 
summoning circle. 
  Still, the priestess of Genbu hardly seemed 
impressed by the display of power. 
  The skeletal-ghost-dinosaur creature spoke in its 
native tongue, of which Ranma could not decipher off- 
hand, but Shizuka seemed to understand. The voice 
inflections gave hints that the creature was not 
pleased with being summoned, making the wards doubly 
useful. 
  "Name your terms," Shizuka said plainly, tapping the 
rod in her hand. 
  Again the monster spoke, to which the priestess 
nodded in acceptance. 
  Without warning, the wards seemed to fizzle and die, 
leaving Shizuka-- and Ranma-- exposed bare to the 
wrath of the ethereal monster. 
  Shizuka doubled back in pain as a concentrated 
ethereal energy shot out from the monster's empty rib 
cage, bathing the priestess in the same ghostly light 
as the dragon creature. Ranma wanted to shout out her 
name, wanted to save her... but found that he could 
do neither. 
  "What the hell?!" he exclaimed, mildly surprised that 
this dream allowed him to speak at all. "What's going 
on here?!" 
  "You can't help her," a voice answered. 
  Ranma realized he knew that voice, but his attention 
was too fixed on what was happening between Shizuka 
and the ghost dragon to pin-point it. Shizuka's feet 
dragged against the ground as her body was drawn to 
the rib cage, her expression betraying resistance and 
defiance from her fate. 
  But the next moment proved surprising for the martial 
artist as, when he thought she was going to resist 
further, Shizuka let go of herself, a smile on her 
face. A bright flash of light blinded Ranma, preventing 
him from seeing the outcome of the battle. He ran, 
fighting against whatever force that was keeping him 
away from the summoning circle, adrenaline pumping. 
  Without warning the force that kept him back released 
its hold, and Ranma plunged toward the circle off- 
balanced. He collapsed just outside the circle, close 
enough to make out the fine details of the ghost 
dragon's skeletal body. The martial artist realized 
the monster was looking his direction, staring down 
with monstrous, pitch-black holes for eyes. 
  It was not the monster that caught Ranma's eyes as he 
raised his head to look upon the ghost dragon's rib 
cage. In the midst of bleach-white bones he saw the 
priestess of Genbu, curled in a ball in an upright 
position, floating in the middle of the cage. Had she 
not struggled before Ranma would have guessed she was 
in a serene-like trance, judging from her calm, 
sleeping expression. Her body was surrounded by the 
same eerie glow as the ghost, but with greater 
intensity, serving as a sort of full-body shield. 
  "SHIIIIZUUUKAAAA!!!" he screamed, finding his voice. 
  But the response did not come from the ghost dragon 
itself, but from the girl within. Her lips never 
parted, nor did they source from the rib cage, yet 
Ranma heard her... as if she were everywhere. "People 
forge their own destinies...." 
  Without warning the ghost dragon's claw raked down on 
the martial artist. He did not have time to scream. 

  Hokuto jerked herself out of her trance the moment 
Ranma woke up in a cold sweat, sitting up in his cot. 
Although she could not see the martial artist, as 
the Shadow Weaver was sitting well outside the village, 
she knew what he was doing at the moment-- trying to 
sort his thoughts out. 
  Hopefully he wouldn't notice she was gone from the 
tent. She was just glad he hadn't noticed her intrusion 
into the dream. Yet. 
  She shook her head, feeling a headache coming on. 
Ranma seemed a simple-minded fool on the surface, but 
he possessed sophisticated mental faculties within; 
the dreams were proof enough of that. She had not 
expected such a dream, much less one of such magnitude, 
out of him. 
  "But why'd he dream of Shizuka?" she wondered aloud. 
"And where in the world could these dreams be coming 
from? They're obviously not Sypha's doing; Ranma's 
too used to them for that." 
  Whatever the answer, it was worth looking into, she 
thought, in whatever little time she had left to 
complete her plans. 
  "It's almost time," she said, looking up into the sky 
for the north star. "Soon, I'll be free of this 
terrible curse...." 
  She melted back into the shadows-- true to her name 
as a Shadow Weaver-- disappearing without trace in the 
night. 



			*  *  *  *  * 

Miranda (VO): 

  "All of Cistern Valley's old farts in one place... 
for what reason? Just what is Sypha up to, anyway? 
Whatever it is, it isn't a good thing! All her dreams 
could come true... but wait! Someone's going to stop 
her? No way... because Sypha is...." 
  "Next time: Endless Tears. Don't blink! Heh-heh!" 



------------------------------------------------ 
Author's Notes 

  More to come soon. Incidentally, 'Sypha' is the 
actual name of Strider Hiryu's weapon, not 'Cipher;' 
it's mistranslated, but it stuck (just as 'Kelbeross' 
is a mistranslated 'Cerberus'). 


Razorclaw X (spiceoflife@NOREPLYhotmail.com) 
http://www.crosswinds.net/~slythe/ranma/ranff.html 

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