Akane Tendo stared wordlessly across what appeared to be the long expanse of a battlefield from another world, her dark eyes still tearing from the spiraling light which had been present only a moment ago. Now there was a strange sort of darkness, despite the flashing lights from police and fire vehicles outside and the determined shine of the street lights; a darkness that seemed deeper than the night sky above.

Peculiar twisted shapes gleamed under the eyes of the stars, things with too many legs laying crumpled like wads of wire all over the battlefield, some still twitching slightly. The sounds of chittering and creeping echoed through the empty space, accompanied every few minutes by a screech of pain as the last of Ikioi’s nightmare spiders were dispatched by one of the others. Akane knew, in some distant duty-minded part of herself, that she should be helping them. But she found that she could really do nothing except huddle on the floor amidst the mutilated corpses.

They were . . . they were gone . . . both of them were gone . . .

It didn’t seem possible, not to Akane’s way of thinking. A pattern had been established in her life, one that she had hardly noticed until it was suddenly broken, but one in which she sincerely believed with all her heart. Ranma Saotome, possibly one of the world’s greatest martial artists, was at the core of that constant rhythm. When bad things happened, he was there to face them, and like the turning of a wheel, the outcome was almost always the same. He rarely lost, but if he did - it was only long enough to step back, to look for a different way of defeating his enemy, to make a new plan. When he went in the second time . . . then he won. It was as inevitable as the turning of the seasons. It was as predictable and structured as if all the challenges he faced were spawned from the pen of a master author.

But . . . that hadn’t happened this time . . .

Akane’s tears were coming freely now. Tearing her sight away from the wreckage of what had been her best friend’s room, the young woman covered her face with her hands and habitually fought back the sobs trying to erupt from her chest. She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to seem weak, but it took every ounce of her resolve not to give in to the impulse to scream in despair. She was vaguely aware of a throbbing pain in her ankle; a strange burning tightening sensation that she knew she should be concerned about. But that hurt was nothing compared to what she felt inside.

Ranma had been defeated . . . he had faced Ikioi a second time . . . and he had been left at a stand-still . . . and now he was gone . . .

Ranma and Ryoga were both lost . . .

She felt Ukyo stumble over, to kneel beside her in the midst of sticky clear goo and mutilated multi-legged bodies, to wrap her arms around Akane and pull her close. With that comfort embracing her, Akane lost her struggle not to break down, and pressed tightly against the other girl, gratefully accepting the offered shelter, and shivering belatedly from the overwhelming battle they had just fought . . . and lost.

Ukyo was shedding tears herself, battered and badly disheveled, stunned over what had just happened. She stared blankly at the remains of one of the spiders, and somewhere in her mind the species of their enemy somehow made sense. Didn’t females spiders often consume their mates? Was that not what Ikioi was doing, albeit slowly, to Ryoga? Eating him alive? Stripping him away until there was nothing left? The parallel suddenly seemed almost right, almost logical, and an acidic disgust rose in Ukyo’s throat, threatening to choke her. She forced it back down for Akane’s sake, not wanting to upset the girl further.

"Akane-chan . . . " Ukyo whispered into the other girl’s damp tangled hair, lowering her head to rest it against Akane’s, and shutting her eyes tightly. Despite the strange enemy, Ukyo had never once entertained the notion that they might actually be defeated . . . it simply didn’t seem possible, especially not with Ranma leading them. Ran-chan didn’t lose . . . especially not when there was so much at stake . . . Ryoga . . . their friend . . .

"They’re both gone . . . " Akane muttered, sounding as if the notion were just now occurring to her. Ukyo knew that wasn’t the case, that it was simply the shock lingering heavily, like gas in the air. Ready to combust if the right fuel were put to it. She held Akane tighter, stroking her hands down the Tendo girl’s back comfortingly, hoping to soothe away the potential for explosion.

Shampoo helped Mousse over, kicking aside twisted bodies to make a place for him beside the other two girls. He winced lightly as she set him down, a hand going to the gory slash across his chest, which was still bleeding freely and reddening alarmingly. He had a feeling that the spiders’ bites and scratches might have been venom-laced, a suspicion seemingly confirmed by the burning sensation that was sinking deeply into the muscles of his chest. He leaned his head back on the remains of Ryoga’s futon, hating to show such weakness in front of Shampoo, but really unable to do anything else. The pain was debilitating, and despite the heat of the wound, Mousse began to shiver.

Shampoo was covered with reddening scratches as well, and her once lovely tunic and pants were torn and dirtied. Straightening, she pushed back a tendril of her hair that had come loose from its preferred style, and gazed at her companions speculatively. Mousse and Akane were both badly wounded, and Akane was hovering close to a break down, prevented from crossing that line only by Ukyo’s embrace. The spatula-wielding martial artist was needed on that front, so the Amazon girl knew that, for the moment, she would have to be the one to stay steady and take charge. The first order of business was to retrieve medical help.

Shampoo looked around, her amethyst eyes sweeping quickly over the mess. Spotting what she wanted, she stepped over and retrieved a garment from the ruins of the closet and draped it over Mousse.

Everyone looked a bit stricken when they saw that the garment was one of Ryoga’s standard earth-toned traveling shirts.

"Oh . . . " Akane pressed against Ukyo again, burying her face in the hollow of the girl’s shoulder. She was beginning to shiver as well, from more than just the shock of the fight. Ukyo did her best to warm her and lend strength, glancing up at Shampoo with an expression of appeal.

Shampoo winced lightly, but dutifully tucked the shirt securely around Mousse, taking care to make sure he was well covered. "Shampoo go get help. Spatula girl keep Mousse and Akane here. No think is good idea to move until Tofu-sensei can see."

Ukyo nodded in agreement. Her own scratches were stinging slightly, but were nothing compared to Akane or Mousse’s wounds. The young Amazon man in particular was appearing steadily worse by the minute, growing ever more pale and waxy-looking.

When Shampoo paused to brush the heavy bangs away from his unfocused eyes, a soft expression on her face, Mousse gazed up at her in surprise. "Sh - shampoo?" he questioned through chattering teeth, hardly daring to hope that what he thought he saw was concern, and that it was actually directed toward him.

She tipped her head slightly and a soft smile played over her lips beneath the gentle shine of her eyes. "Stupid duck," she said fondly, running fingers along the line of his jaw. Before he could even think to reply, she stood again, and quickly ran to the outer wall of the house, leaping over it and disappearing into the night.

*************************************

"What a dreadful mess." Cologne balanced on her gnarled cane beside Ukyo and Shampoo, frowning at the scores of insectile bodies strewn around, at the ruins of what had once been a young man’s room, at the knick-knacks and souvenirs that lay broken or trampled on the torn floor. The trio watched, staying out of the way, while Dr. Tofu and a score of EMTs tended to Mousse and Akane. Though emergency field care wasn’t Tofu’s area of expertise, he was practiced enough to lend a hand and his presence was comforting to Akane. Police were also crawling all over the top-level of the Hibiki residence, trying to decide exactly what had happened. They had already attempted to question the teenagers, but Cologne had pointedly made it known that their interrogation could wait until later.

"Now they want to help," Ukyo commented bitterly, wrapping her arms around herself tightly as she gazed with clear contempt at a small cluster of officers who were making notes about the condition of the scene. "Now that it’s too late."

"Shampoo no understand," the Amazon girl also glared at the police, eyes cold and hard. "Police here when we arrive, yet no come to help until after everything over?"

Cologne nodded with a sigh, understanding their anger. "Don’t judge them too harshly, girls. Tofu-senei explained to them what was going on, thinking it better that they not get involved. Once they found out there was a demon up here, they were wise to heed Tofu’s warning and stay out of it. They are innocents, after all , and only a few of them have any training in martial arts, which would have made them liabilities in such a fight."

The two young women reluctantly agreed that she was right, innocents should not be involved in fights, but they still couldn’t help feeling rather resentful. After everything that had happened, they needed a target for the angry emotions that were pounding at their hearts and making it difficult to breathe; and since the cause of the entire incident was no longer in this dimension, they naturally directed their hate toward the nearest available scapegoats. Someone had to be responsible for all of this . . . someone had to shoulder the blame . . .

"Girls," Cologne sensed their dark feelings and knew that she needed to redirect their thoughts and guide them onto something else immediately. It wouldn’t do to let these children fall into despair over what had happened, she needed to give them a task to focus on, some hope to cling to. Hopping on her cane, Cologne led them slightly away from the commotion, where they could talk privately but could still see what was being done for Akane and Mousse. "Tell me what happened, and don’t leave anything out. If there is any chance of retrieving Ranma and Ryoga, then even the smallest detail could prove to be important."

"Retrieving . . . ?" Ukyo looked at the old woman in surprise.

"Obaba, thought you said that once bad woman take to her own dimension, there no chance of getting back?" Shampoo’s expression mirrored Ukyo’s.

"That’s what all the accounts of the Shikome say," Cologne nodded gravely. "But that doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s true. Anything is possible, children. Now, talk to me."

Carefully, the two young martial artists described the encounter with Ikioi as best as they could, each picking up on details the other missed, correcting each other when there was a discrepancy. The story was long, and went on while Dr. Tofu helped stabilize Akane and Mousse for transport, continued in the back seat of his car as they drove to the hospital behind the ambulance, and was concluded in the waiting room of the emergency department. Cologne listened to every word, paying attention even to those that disagreed or contradicted, with a patience that could only be granted to one of her years, thoughtfully putting together her own picture of what had happened based on the tale the girls spun.

When all had been said that could be, the three sat together silently, each lost in their own heavy thoughts. After awhile, Ukyo stood and began to pace, needing to be moving, to be doing something . . . fitfully fighting back tears. She did her best to put the confrontation with Ikioi out of her mind for the time being, finding the shock and potential loss a little too fresh to deal with, and concentrated her attention on worrying about Akane. Akane who was wounded . . . Akane who was . . .

Ukyo shook her head and had to wonder what she thought she was going to gain by torturing herself in this way, by even allowing herself to hope that she could ever have anything with Akane. The young woman had never shown any sort of interest in Ukyo, what made her think that anything had changed? Hadn’t she already caused herself enough pain by chasing after Ranma? How stupid was she that she would turn right around and start pining after someone else, hadn’t she learned her lesson? Ukyo’s heart felt tight in her chest as she considered the new tentative friendship that this entire situation had spawned between herself and the youngest of the Tendo clan.

It felt good. It was a warmth that Ukyo hadn’t been receptive to in years. Did she want to risk losing that by taking another step forward? Even in the midst of that awful battle, fighting back to back with Akane had given her a feeling of completeness, the sense that -this- was right and as it should be. They complemented each other nicely, working as a unit, as if they had trained together for years, each mindful of the moves of the other. It had been a synergy that Ukyo had never experienced before, and it had been so fulfilling. Could she chance losing that?

The answer came back to her almost before her mind had put forth the question. How could she -not- chance it? How could she stay quiet about what she felt, when Ranma had illustrated so plainly what could result from hesitation and fear? He had been holding tightly to Ryoga for years without ever once saying anything to the Lost Boy about his feelings, until it was too late and the damage had been done. Now they were both gone, perhaps beyond retrieval, and all those years had been wasted in silence and taunting. Ukyo could not let that happen again, she could not turn a blind eye to the lesson the two boys had so painfully taught her.

Indecision was death. Perhaps not in the most literal sense of the word, but truly in all the small hurtful ways . . . the pains that stayed long after the wounding was over. Slow small deaths . . . each eating away at the whole until there was nothing left . . .

A vision of her private conversation with Akane drifted back to Ukyo as she continued to pace, her stride quickening as her conviction flowered into full bloom. She saw the Tendo girl’s dark glittering eyes and the playful smile which whispered across her face as she ran her tongue along the edge of her teeth and teasingly asked, "Who -is- your type, Ucchan?"

(( I’m gonna tell you, Akane-chan . . . )) Ukyo decided finally, shutting her eyes tightly and stopping in mid-pace. (( As soon as I see you again . . . I’m gonna tell you. Whatever happens, I will not ignore what Ran-chan and Ryoga-honey have taught me . . . ))

Thinking that she was alone in her worry and heavy thoughts, Ukyo opened her eyes in surprise when Shampoo suddenly piped up, jumping to her feet as if she had been waiting to erupt like an uneasy geyser. "What take Tofu-sensei so long?!" she demanded, startling all of the occupants of the waiting room with the venom in her words. Her fists clenched tightly, the young Amazon looked as if she were fighting to resist smashing in the nearest wall.

Ukyo blinked at the outburst, a bit startled to recognize the concern and trembling fear in the Amazon warrior’s tone of voice. She wondered at what heavy thoughts might have guided Shampoo into losing her control, wondered if she had somehow reached the same conclusions that Ukyo herself had.

"Calm down, Great Granddaughter," Cologne frowned up at her offspring, a bit annoyed at having her deep contemplation of the situation interrupted. Still, she understand Shampoo’s worry. "I’m sure Mousse will be fine."

Fixing an expression of stubborn denial on her face, Shampoo crossed her arms and looked away from her matriarch. "Shampoo no care about stupid duck. Only annoyed by time wasting," she declared firmly, insistently.

Ukyo, however, saw the shimmering tears that stood in the girl’s purple eyes, tears that mirrored her own. Shampoo could try to deny it all she wanted, but the truth was in those crystalline drops, she really did have feelings for her Amazon brother, and apparently she -had- been thinking along similar lines. Ukyo silently marveled at that for a long moment, wondering about the irony of this horrid situation that it was bringing everyone together as they had never quite intended . . . or expected.

(( Ranma and Ryoga . . . Shampoo and Mousse . . . me and . . . ))

Hesitating a moment, the okonomiyaki chef swallowed down her fluttering feeling of unease and stepped over to hug Shampoo. The girl stiffened at first, obviously taken by surprise, but relaxed into the hug after an uncomfortable heartbeat, wrapping her own arms around Ukyo. The two girls held each other for a long moment, inwardly recognizing the new comradery that had been birthed between them . . . between them all . . . on the field of battle.

"Spatula girl understand?" Shampoo muttered quietly enough for only Ukyo to hear, allowing a single tear loose to run down her smooth cheek. "Shampoo no care for Mousse . . . "

"Yeah, I understand, Sugar," Ukyo replied softly, tightening her embrace slightly.

Cologne gazed at the girls thoughtfully as they held each other in the center of the waiting room, a small secret smile forming on her wrinkled face. Though she had seen it time and time again over the course of her long life, the Amazon matriarch was always a bit amazed by how adversity and a common foe seemed able to bring even rivals and enemies together. Once this was all over, Cologne knew that there was little chance of these various relationships ever returning to what they had all come to consider normal. The children had gone too far together to ever turn back now.

And it was about time. They had all been stuck in stagnation for so long . . . perhaps now they would each be able to reach the next stages of their personal evolutions. It would be good to see, for in all her years Cologne had never been witness to the growth of a group of individuals with as much strength, cohesion and potential as this one had. There was only one problem remaining . . .

How to get the boys out of that demon’s dimension . . .

Cologne’s thoughts were again interrupted by a commotion at the door of the emergency waiting room. Still comforting each other, Ukyo and Shampoo looked up immediately, both startled and poised to face the threat of any new danger together. Their paranoia was unfounded, however, as the disturbance was caused not by an enemy, but by two older men who apparently had been notified by the police that something was amiss with their children.

"Akaaaane!!" Soun Tendo wailed, flying into the room with arms flailing in typical fashion. He very nearly accosted the poor receptionist, slamming his hands down on her desk and leaning toward her with a demanding howl of, "Where’s Akane?! Where’s my little girl?!"

Genma Saotome was on his friend’s heels, but took one look at the approaching security guards and decided that retreat was probably the better option. Glancing around for a suitable escape route, the large martial artist spotted Cologne and her charges, and easily veered away from Soun to head in their direction.

"Someone answer me!" the Tendo patriarch continued to bellow. "Where is my daughter?! Akaaaane!"

"Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to step outside . . . "

Genma frowned down at Cologne, coming to a stop in front of the diminutive woman. Seeing the dark expression in his eyes, Shampoo and Ukyo moved away from each other and took up positions beside the Amazon matriarch, unconsciously seeking to protect their teacher from whatever wrath the elder Saotome wished to unleash.

Their actions were not lost on Cologne, but she appeared to ignore them. Instead, she faced Genma squarely and nodded politely. "Saotome-san," she greeted.

"Old Woman," he growled in return. "What happened? And where the hell is my son?"

***********************************************

Something stirred slowly within a darkness that was absolute, a darkness that was the very definition of the concept.

She had no need of light, and never had. It was a pointless waste of energy as far as She was concerned, though She knew that many of Her offspring preferred at least some illumination in their individual cocoons. But they were the young ones, the Children who had been weaned in the world of humans and had grown used to the sun. Having been in existence since before it was born, She had never seen the sun and didn’t particularly care to. It was superfluous. It would be gone long before She.

In this darkness, under the sounds of distant voices blending together in a soft pulsing chant, She sensed the arrival of three to Her Realm, and She took a moment to stretch out four of her dozens of impossibly long legs while She felt their signatures, carelessly brushing aside several trivial realities as She did so. A low rumble sounded from deep within her triple segmented body, the vibration of which shimmered through the entirety of the Realm. Now the Children would be waking, knowing that something was happening. Each secured away in their cocoons, in their individual pocket dimensions, they would all reach out with their own senses to find out what was going on. But as exquisite as they were, She knew that the Children were slow. She would have the matter deciphered long before any of them could even stir and gather enough energy from the Hosts with which to investigate.

One of the three signatures She recognized as being from Her own collective, one of the Children returning. This one was particularly bright, a shimmering jewel which She had plucked from Her own body. Every few millennia She hatched Her own clutch, when the blood lines of the Children grew weakened from the genetic donations of their Hosts, and the purity of the Shikome needed to be re-infused. She Herself would send Her essence out into the physical realm and select a score of suitable males to drain and absorb, to seed Herself for another round of procreation. This Daughter who was returning now had been one of hundreds She had given life to in the last cycle, the first of all her Sisters to make it back to the Realm.

The second signature lay beneath the first, obviously the chosen Host of the Daughter. It was a strong signature, coming from a blood line that She was not unfamiliar with, which was possibly the first surprise She had felt in several hundred years. Males of that particular linage had been taken before, in the distant past, and were highly sought after for their great strength and solitary natures. Unfortunately, though they were easy to lure and catch, they were usually difficult to keep, and She was impressed that this returning Daughter had managed to hold onto one. It spoke well of the young one’s strength and skill. She could also feel that the soul of this Host had been well and thoroughly broken, that little remained of him beyond his physical body, his captive chi, and a few scattered thoughts and fears which were trivial and unimportant. This was as it should be.

It was the third signature that interested Her the most, however. It arrived in the Realm on the heels of the other two, narrowly entering before the Daughter’s portal closed up behind it. It appeared to be a human male, but was not attached to the young one. It was, in fact, alone and angry, its emotions strong enough to shadow it from most of the Children, but not from Her. Within, it carried echoes of the Daughter’s Host, and its intention was clear. This young man had come to take the Host away from the returning Shikome.

This was a very curious development. It had been many centuries since a renegade human had managed to breech the seal between this Realm and the physical. It was an occurrence so rare that most of the Children did not think it could be done, after all, the only way into the Realm was through a Portal, and only Shikome could create a Portal. Teleporting or displacing in or out of the Realm was not possible, for reasons of security. It simply was not possible for an unattached human to gain entry.

She knew better. Tenacious souls did occasionally follow a Shikome through the Portals, for sometimes the bond between humans was nearly unbreakable, and that sort of attachment was typical of the men of the Host’s blood line. Though they were loners, they were often coveted fiercely by others, which was one of the reasons why they were so difficult to hang onto once they were caught.

She decided that this might play out to be very interesting. At the very least, it would be good training for Her Daughter. A final test of her skills and abilities. Drawing a long billow of stale breath into Her lungs, She shifted Her huge body and hunkered down in the darkness to listen, sense, and wait . . .

*************************************************

Ikioi roughly yanked Ryoga through the shimmering fluid barrier that separated her Realm from the silver tunnel between dimensions, and pushed him forward. She barely noticed that he didn’t bother to stop himself from falling, landing hard and jarringly on his knees against the floor. She was far more concerned with who was coming through the Portal behind them, even as the spinning disc of sparkling energy began to close. Her aquamarine eyes narrowing dangerously, she fisted her hands at her sides and seethed inwardly.

The bastard . . . why wouldn’t he just give up?

Ranma jumped through only heartbeats later, ducking as the iris was reaching a circumference that would have been too small for him to transverse. The clearance was so tight, in fact, that he caught his foot on the bottom of the remarkably solid edge of reality. Thus his entry into Ikioi’s Realm was a little less than graceful, but that was the least of his concerns. He had pushed himself to the limits of his speed to catch up with Ryoga and the demon in the silver tunnel, and he was now feeling that exertion in the burn of his muscles. He couldn’t think about that, though, he couldn’t think about anything except facing off with Ikioi one last time. Facing her and taking back what was his.

His, damn it all! Ryoga was -his-!

The Saotome heir took a brief moment to glance around at their surroundings, knowing that being familiar with the layout and terrain was important in any battle. A bit of surprise whispered through his stomach as he mentally processed the strangely organic chamber. It looked as he imagined the inside of a spider’s lair would; oblong and roughly rounded, high ceilinged, with walls that seemed to be made of jagged secreted webbing. Ranma wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but for some reason, this was not it.

It was all dimly lit, with an orange bio-illumination that was being furnished by a pair of gigantic spider creatures clinging to the high crystalline ceiling. They were similar in appearance to the monsters he and the others had fought in the Hibiki home, but much larger and their fewer stubbier legs gave the impression that they were more sedentary. An undulating luminance came from their distended torsos, which hung from the top of the chamber like two grotesque chandeliers.

The light provided the means by which to see the rest of the crawling horrors which populated the walls of the chamber. They were the same as those Ranma had fought before, and they moved like a vibrating wave, sweeping down the curve of the structure and spilling out onto the floor. He estimated well over a hundred of the nasty beasts. Some surrounded Ikioi defensively, crouching in defense of their mistress. Others scurried around to flank Ranma as the Portal blinked closed and shimmered out of existence, leaving no visible way out of the chamber. Solid colorless rock candy walls completely enclosed them, webs which filled every corner ruffled uneasily without the influence of a breeze, and the space suddenly seemed very hot and stifling. Originating from far away, a surreal buzzing hung in the air, sounding vaguely like hundreds of soft feminine voices joined together in a long monosyllabic chant.

A few of the spiders hurried to Ryoga, who remained on the floor exactly where Ikioi had pushed him, silently gazing down at the rough glasslike substance which seemed to be the floor. From far away, he felt like he was trembling, but he did not allow that sensation to surface. Those distant feelings were gone, -he- was gone . . . and whatever wasn’t gone was firmly shut away. Oblivious to their surroundings, he processed only fleeting images of hazy orange darkness, and the movements of more arachnid bodies, shifting and scuttling. Legs and feelers touched him, skipping lightly over the bare skin of his chest and back, tugging urgently at the material of his pants, while humming and chittering sounds managed to penetrate his hearing. There was no use in reacting to anything, it was counterproductive and unnecessary. His only concern was to accept whatever happened, not to resist or struggle.

The Kokoro Kogatana still blazing from his right fist, Ranma’s gaze fell on Ryoga. Ikioi’s Brothers swarmed disturbingly around the young man, yet Ryoga simply knelt there, his gaze unfocused and distant, and allowed it all without protest. When Ranma tried to touch minds with the Lost Boy, he felt nothing beyond a vague sense of echoing dustiness, and the glimmers of Ryoga’s personality which he still held safely within himself. Trembling . . . uneasy . . . frightened . . . but all of this originated from within Ranma. From Ryoga himself there was only emptiness, and Ranma uneasily began to wonder if there was anything left of his friend to save.

Releasing his fear and anger in a sharp battle cry, Ranma began to move forward, seeking to defend his friend from the attentions of the hideous creatures. Ikioi raised her hands in an immediate counter, a power wind lifting from the floor at her feet and wrapping around her gracefully, tossing her long unfettered hair and the violet drape she still wore entwined around her body. Her hands shimmered, each elegant finger glowing a red color that was as angry as that of Ranma’s blade. With a furious forward thrust of her arms, she mentally sent Ranma flying backwards, slamming him against the rough wall behind him with a force that nearly knocked him cold.

Nearly. Ranma snarled as he shook his head to clear away the encroaching blackness and drove himself back to his feet. The ki-blade in his hand wavered a bit, but stabilized swiftly as he turned his wrath on Ikioi once again. "You . . . " he growled lowly, unable to come up with a ready word nasty enough to describe what he thought of her. He wasn’t inclined to waste time talking anyway. Barely allowing himself the chance to regain his balance, he rushed forward again, utilizing his remarkable speed as he went. She was a bit too slow to catch him with another power push, but was fast enough to throw up a barrier, against which his ki-blade clanged hissingly.

"Your tenacity is admirable, Ranma Saotome," Ikioi replied darkly, her expression cold and stone-like as she held the barrier in place against his determined forward thrust. "But it is useless. You should have stayed where you belong and left him to me."

"Like hell!" Ranma spat, drew back his knife once more and plowed it with all of his strength against the barrier. Fueled by the force of his anger, he might have expected it to break through the shield, but it did not. Either she was stronger in her home Realm, or he was growing tired. Both were reasonable possibilities.

But as the Kokoro Kogatana sparked off the barrier, the martial artist noticed something out of the corner of his eye; a slight shimmering that marked the edge of Ikioi’s invisible shield. He pushed himself backwards, away from her, and immediately drove forward again, as if he were going to attempt the same attack. Ikioi held the barrier steady with her outstretched hand, just as he had hoped, and he feinted to her left, swinging the blade wide, intent on stabbing her around the edge of the shield.

Ikioi saw the move and was able to throw up another block with her free hand, only an eye blink before Ranma’s ki-blade could reach her. Grinding his teeth together, Ranma pushed himself back again and slid into a defensive crouch. Glaring icily at one another, the two combatants began to circle, the spiders skittering to keep pace.

Ryoga looked up at the sound of the clash, but his reaction was one more of instinct than of interest. He heard Ikioi’s voice as she continued to speak angrily about something, her tone chiming with silvery irritation. Ryoga didn’t know what she was talking about, but he didn’t like the sound of the words. They grated within his head along with the incessant buzzing, hurting and plucking like the spiders around him were still doing.

Wrong . . . this was wrong . . .

He wanted to claw at his head, to physically tear out the maddening thought. There was nothing wrong! Everything was just as it should be, and he accepted that. An unconscious tremor wracked his body, and in order to counteract the driving need to dash his head against the floor, Ryoga instead grabbed his left arm with his right hand and dug his fingernails into his own flesh. Folding around himself, he lowered, until his heavy bangs were nearly touching his knees. Closing up . . . keeping everything out . . . waiting for the wrongness to go away . . .

(( He’ll be gone . . . )) A quiet sad voice in the back of Ryoga’s mind spoke up. (( Once she kills him . . . )) Someplace far away, the Lost Boy winced and shivered, while his cold detachment immediately sought to squelch that hesitant little observation.

"Give up," Ikioi advised Ranma in a low quiet tone. "I’m merely toying with you, Saotome. You have no hope of possibly beating me."

"Others have said the same," Ranma replied, his own voice a lethal growl, dark blue eyes glittering feverishly. "But I don’t lose. Ever. Ryoga is mine and I’m taking him back from you."

"You can’t take back what you never owned in the first place." Ikioi’s own brilliant eyes were as hard as a pair of cut beryl, and her words were biting. "I couldn’t have caught him if he hadn’t given himself to me willingly, and he did that, Ranma Saotome. He gladly came to me because he had nothing else to hold onto." she told him simply.

"He has something now," Ranma replied lowly. One of the spiders chanced to come too close to him, picking eagerly at the leg of his pants with the sharp tips of its skittering legs. The pig tailed youth grimaced and drove the Kokoro Kogatana into the vile thing’s body, running it through with the force of his anger. The creature shrieked and spasmed for a moment, before falling away in a twitching heap. Its fellows retreated a few hasty steps away from the enraged martial artist.

"Does he?" Ikioi tilted her head, as if asking the question out of genuine curiosity, but the continued coldness of her expression belied that impression. "And exactly what does he have? Just your selfish claim on his person?"

Inwardly, Ranma blinked. As her words settled into his mind, he felt an angry cry lift in his throat, and he gladly gave voice to it, using it as a propellent to drive himself forward once more. Her statement beat a strange echoing staccato in his head, one that was out of rhythm with his furiously pounding heart. Selfish?! What the hell was she trying to imply? That there was something wrong with his love for Ryoga? He wouldn’t be here now if his feelings were selfish, would he? He wouldn’t be trying to save Ryoga from this hell, trying to get him back, if the feelings he harbored for the boy were anything less than genuine. And how dare she speak of selfishness, when she was the one . . . she was the one . . .

"Shut up!" he roared angrily, for some reason feeling as if a nerve had been hit, but not understanding why. Ikioi was the one stripping the Lost Boy of everything, holding him tight, using him as nothing more than a living battery. But Ranma . . . he loved Ryoga, damn it all! Loved him!

Ikioi took a step back as he flew forward again, to give herself some room, bringing her hands up in her usual shield-summoning manner, but Ranma launched himself into the air at the last second, using the strength in his legs to propel himself over Ikioi’s head. At the apex of the jump, he somersaulted, twisting his body around at the same time with all the skill and grace of a practiced gymnast, aiming himself so that he would land facing her back. He thrust the ki-blade toward the unprotected spot between her shoulder blades.

Ikioi whirled to meet him, easily ready with another shield, and almost looking bored with the whole affair. His blade clanged off the barrier, and she closed the gap between them quickly, kicking outward as she did, catching his stomach with her small foot. The force of her blow sent him reeling across the chamber, spiders chasing eagerly after him.

"At least I gave him the initial choice," Ikioi replied coldly once he had come to a stop. "You never did."

Ryoga pulled his nails down the length of his forearm, staying as curled around himself as he could. He knew that there was fighting going on. After so many years of fine tuning his martial arts skills, he had become conditioned to recognize and interpret the auditory characteristics of a battle, and in some withdrawn part of his mind, Ryoga listened and translated. He picked out the sounds of many small bodies hitting someone larger, the screeches that signaled their subsequent deaths, and the pounding of feet against the floor. There were sparks and crashing noises, a pair of forced grunts from two different combatants, and then Ikioi was saying something again. The reply to her words was issued in a low deadly tone that still somehow managed to sound adolescent and a bit spoiled.

There was something familiar about that sound . . . but the thought was gone as soon as Ryoga’s mind conjured it, drifting away as if it had never been, never could be. In that direction lay things he shouldn’t be touching, things that shouldn’t be present in the first place. (( He’ll be gone . . . once she kills him . . . )) Ryoga drew his fingernails down his forearm again, leaving behind deep scratches which quickly began to redden.

Ranma clashed with Ikioi again and again, frustration mounting. As she had demonstrated before, she was faster than he, and no matter where he struck, she was there and ready with a barrier. He didn’t often fight adversaries that weren’t trying to charge at him in return, and her almost casual attitude toward his attacks galled him. The cool light in her eyes showed plainly the contempt she felt as she played with him, never looking the least bit concerned or ruffled, and her stinging words were hanging uncomfortably in Ranma’s mind, distracting him.

She had given Ryoga a choice, and he hadn’t? What the hell was that suppose to mean?

Ranma’s body was also showing signs of wearing down, he could feel his muscles burning and his joints aching. He was dealing with both Ikioi and the spiders which occasionally shot forward to join the fray; clawing at him, leaping onto his back to wrap around his body, or trying to bite at him with gleaming translucent teeth, and so was pushing himself close to his normal limits. With each strike of the Kokoro Kogatana, Ranma could feel the ki-blade losing strength. He was draining himself by keeping it ignited for so long, but there was no other way to defeat the Shikome. That was what Cologne had said. The demon could not be taken down by physical means.

In a glimmer of remembrance, the Amazon matriarch’s words came back to Ranma and shone like stars in his mind for a brief moment. Fought - yes . . . defeated - no . . .

Ranma backed off for a moment, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. Ikioi could only be defeated by the Kokoro Kogatana, but . . . but she could be -fought- with physical attacks. She was pumped full of Ryoga’s considerable ki-strength and stamina, but that supply was limited. Ranma had to wear her down, thin out that advantage to the point where she was weak and he was sure that he could make a clear strike with the blade. He had broken her shield once before without a ki attack, the pig tailed youth was certain that he could do it again. He simply had to chip away at her, and eventually he would get the opening that he needed.

The spiders, however, were a bit of a concern. They were ki-creatures and only the concentrated ki-attack could kill them. Knocking them around with his fists and his feet would only deter them for a short time. He would have to be fast and do his best to stay out of their way.

If Ikioi wondered why he had backed off and let the ki-blade disappear from his hand, she didn’t give any indication. She simply stood in the center of the chamber, the soft humming chant shimmering in the air around her, gazing at Ranma with eyes of sun-touched ocean. When he slowly circled around her, she turned with him, patiently waiting for his next move.

He didn’t keep her hanging for long. Drawing in a deep breath that helped to clear his mind of everything else, Ranma tightly grabbed his anger and let it pump through him in the same way that his blood did, permeating every inch of him, every last cell. Strong emotion. He needed to put every ounce of his feelings behind his attacks, or they would be lacking. He had to feel as he had never felt before.

He glanced slightly to one side, spotting Ryoga. The Lost Boy was still kneeling on the floor, surrounded by protective spiders and wrapped around himself, giving no sign that he was even aware of the fight taking place. The glow from one of the chandelier spiders seemed to fall exactly over Ryoga’s form, giving his skin the impression of being warm and silken, but his face was completely shadowed by the hang of his bangs and hair. Ranma noticed that he was repeatedly clawing his fingernails down his left forearm, drawing blood, and seemed to be rocking just slightly. The shards of Ryoga’s personality that Ranma was keeping safe shimmered fearfully in response. To see Ryoga so broken . . . Ryoga who had always been strong and tenacious . . . to feel nothing within his mind . . . this fired the Saotome heir’s hatred and rage like nothing ever had before. It was just the saturation of emotion that he needed.

He threw himself at Ikioi, releasing an accompanying yell from his throat. Break through the shield . . . feel that anger and break through the shield . . . Ranma went at Ikioi with the same intensity that he had used once against Mikado Sanzenin, intent on throwing so many punches that there would be no way for the demoness to block them all, and this time he had the benefit of his speed training. If he could break through the shields she did manage to put up . . . if he could get in just a few blows . . . if he could just wear her down . . .

Ikioi blocked his initial attacks, easily keeping up with his furiously flying fists. Wherever he punched, no matter the speed he put behind it, she had a barrier ready to counter him, keeping him from getting too close. This only served to make him angrier, however, and as he poured ever more fury behind his attacks, the girl was forced to transfer more energy into her barriers to maintain their strength. When one of his punches managed to violate her shield and he landed a glancing blow against the side of her head, Ikioi was a bit surprised.

But not entirely. She knew Ranma was strong, and she knew what he thought he was doing. He planned to wear her down, but he was foolish. She was still simply playing with him, indulging his need to lash at her, and finding his attempts rather amusing. Now that she was in her own Realm, she couldn’t just displace him away like she would have preferred, but she had access to more options and greater resources then before. When his punch landed, Ikioi decided that it was time for the game to stop and the real fight to begin. With a slight flick of her hand, she sent the pig tailed nuisance once more into the far wall, pleased at hearing a loud cracking sound that was surely the result of ribs being broken.

Ranma slid down the wall, groaning, his arm immediately wrapping around his middle in an attempt to quell the sudden sharp pains that flashed through his chest and sides. Ribs broken? Yes. He guessed two, on the left. The sensation made his head spin, but he ignored it, gritting his teeth and getting back to his feet. He also ignored the spiders that surged around him and locked his gaze on Ikioi once more.

She had moved to Ryoga’s side and there was a faint smile of satisfaction on her lips. "Haven’t you had enough yet, Ranma Saotome?" she asked in a sweet tone.

"You’re dead, bitch," he replied tightly, shaking his head to flick the sweat out of his hair. He sprang forward once more.

"Go, Brothers!" Ikioi called, signaling the spider hordes to spring into action. With the exception of about two dozen creatures that remained hovering around Ryoga, all of the clicking horrors turned as one and converged on Ranma in a disturbing wave of skittering legs. Before Ranma could half the distance between himself and Ikioi, they were on him, pulling him back, picking at him excitedly. With a yell of rage, Ranma tried to leap over them, but they were ready to meet him in the air, jumping with considerable agility. He was forced to stop and fight, punching and kicking at the things, throwing them off of himself, dashing this way and that to avoid their tearing legs and biting jagged teeth.

It wasn’t long before he began to sense that he was being overwhelmed. There were over a hundred of them and only one of him, and when he punched or kicked them away, the horrid beasts simply shook off the blow and came back at him. The sounds of their chittering and clicking was ringing in his ears maddeningly and Ranma yelled in protest, feeling panicked as grasping legs and questing feelers surrounded him. He wanted to use the ki-blade badly, but was loathe to pull the Kokoro Kogatana again, knowing that he needed to save his ki to finish Ikioi. But if he couldn’t get through these stinking spiders, he wouldn’t have the chance to defeat her and he would lose again.

Again . . . (( Ryoga . . . )) Ranma ground his teeth, flipping two spiders over his head and smashing another with his foot. From every direction, he felt the creatures’ legs poking and tugging at him, trying to pull him down into the horde so that they could finish him with their venomous bites, tear him apart between themselves. He could not let them get the upper hand . . . he had to . . . he had to use the blade . . .

The Kokoro Kogatana sprang to life from his fist once more, and Ranma plunged it into the nearest spider with a vicious snarl, satisfied to hear the monster shriek as it died. His victory lasted only a brief moment, however, for the sea of creatures that separated him from Ryoga was wide and tempestuous, and each individual was out to kill him.

While Ranma was thus engaged, Ikioi rested her hand on Ryoga’s back and crouched beside him, bending down to catch his eyes with her own. "My Heart?" she inquired gently. "Look at me, Beloved."

Ryoga lifted his head and stared at her with dull brown eyes, even as he continued to drag his nails down his arm. She reached out and gently ran absent fingers through his hair, taking note of how he did not react in the least. This bothered her a bit, but she knew that such emotional detachment would have been a consequence of his fate, regardless of how she brought him into her Realm. Whether through the illusions she had offered him, or his own mental shut-down, he was broken. It was to be expected.

It was unfortunate, though, because it had been his living flame which she had been so attracted to in the first place, that spark of stubborn power that had been evident in his every movement. She missed the strange shimmer in his eyes that was a combination of hard and soft, like liquid moving beneath a layer of ice. His hard shell that was so easily shattered. Still, though she missed these things, it was in her nature to find his broken countenance just as attractive. This was, after all, exactly what a Shikome desired - a male of great ki-strength who was easily reduced to nothing.

And it was his ki that she wanted now. Playing with Ranma had used up a great deal of her reserves, and she had not been given the chance to properly rest since before breaking the Seal. Aside from defeating the pig tailed annoyance, Ikioi had much to do now that she had arrived in her own Realm. She had to secure Ryoga away properly. She had to present herself to the Great Shikome Mother, whose presence Ikioi had felt upon first entering the Realm. She had to receive her rank and take her place among her kind. All of this would require energy, and though Ryoga was weakened, his natural resilience and healing ability had already built his aura back up to marginally useful levels.

So, ignoring the continued sounds of Ranma’s struggle with the eager horde of her Brothers, Ikioi slipped her hand under Ryoga’s jaw and guided his head, drawing him to sit up on his knees. Smiling softly, lovingly, she leaned forward and kissed him, initiating the transfer of energy.

Ryoga’s head filled with the now-familiar roaring that accompanied the task, and he felt the ki being siphoned steadily out of his body, but it was his place to accept and allow that, and he did so, silently and without protest. The young man let his eyes drift shut, and his fingernails caught against a lip of skin as he opened a shallow gash in his arm.

When she had gotten what she needed, Ikioi stood again, letting go of Ryoga’s chin and looking in Ranma’s direction. Ryoga wavered on his knees for a moment, then slumped forward, not even bothering to catch himself as he fell. He hit the crystalline floor hard and slowly drew his body into a curled position, still clinging to his left arm as if it, and the pain he was inflicting on himself, were the only things that were still real to him. His eyes fluttered open, but from his position all he could see was a tangle of moving arachnid bodies, all converging around something . . . someone . . .

(( He’ll be gone . . . once she kills him . . . ))

Somewhere from far away, beneath the maddening buzz of the never-ending chant, a small thought slipped into his mind, bringing a flicker of guilt with it.

(( Ranma . . . ))

Still viciously working his way through the persistent mass of spiders, Ranma wasted a precious moment lifting his eyes to glance at the prone form of his friend. Aside from that which he held onto, Ranma had received nothing from Ryoga since the Lost Boy made his final surrender and stepped through the Portal that would take him to Ikioi’s Realm; no thoughts, no feelings, no pains. So had he really heard that? Was he only just hoping that he had? Hoping that what he was carrying in his heart wasn’t all that remained of the young man named Ryoga Hibiki? The renegade whisper of his name had seemed so small and faint, so unlike the wandering martial artist . . .

Ranma’s strength and ki were wearing thin, he was starting to really feel the acid strain in his over-worked muscles and in the grinding of his ribs. But seeing that Ryoga was now curled on the floor jolted Ranma and gave him a second wind, another burst of energy, renewing his determination to take the Lost Boy back from Ikioi. If he -had- heard that thought from Ryoga, then he could -not- back down or give up. There might still be hope. Another howl of challenge rose from Ranma’s throat and he swiped his ki-blade through a group of spiders that were leaping for him, legs spread wide and grasping. Their ripped bodies fell amongst their fellows, who wasted no time in taking their places to attack.

"Enough of this," Ikioi muttered to herself. As amusing as it was to watch her Brothers pester Saotome, she now had the energy she needed, so it was time to show him exactly what he was dealing with, exactly how hopeless his little crusade was. She stepped forward gracefully, her brilliant eyes fixed on Ranma, parting the sea of spiders before her with nothing more than an elegant gesture of her hand. The creatures hurried to be out of her way, opening a path to Ranma for her to transverse.

The pig tailed boy threw off the last creature which tried to wrap around him and was a bit startled when no more jumped in to replace it. Breathing hard, he looked up and found that all of the spiders had backed away and that Ikioi was standing before him, a calm expression of superiority on her small rounded face. Ranma glared back at her, using his left fist to rub at a dabble of blood which was slowly inching its way down his face from a gash on his right cheekbone. "Decided to fight your own battles, instead of hiding behind your stinking bugs?" he hissed lowly, bravado still securely in place.

"I only needed to distract you for a moment, Ranma Saotome," she replied quietly. Slowly, deliberately, she raised her right hand and made a sweeping gesture in front of herself, the palm of her hand glowing red.

Ryoga watched dully as Ikioi’s hand moved, almost hypnotizing in its small perfect grace and elegance. The glow flared up around her, spreading forth and hugging close to her small form, creating a ki-tornado which tossed her hair wildly. A great heat began to fill the glassy confines of the chamber, pushing hard at everything and everyone within as the glow increased. Ikioi lifted her hand over her head, bending her wrist gracefully, and the vortex of power drew up and spiraled around her fingers, roaring softly.

Ranma took a step back, bringing his arms up to protect himself from the heat front which buffeted him, bracing his feet hard against the floor to prevent being blown backwards. The spiders did the same, though they were light enough that many of them went tumbling away regardless, their spinning bodies piling up against the wall behind Ranma. Only Ryoga seemed unaffected by the torrent, as if a bubble of protection were covering him. He raised his head slightly and watched Ikioi, his flat eyes reflecting the light from her energy.

Worry filtered uneasily through his mental barriers, accompanied by a soft hymn of guilt. (( He’ll be gone . . . once she kills him . . . ))

Ikioi uttered an unfamiliar word, some incantation in an archaic and long-lost language. The swirling red power reacted immediately, rising from her outstretched hand and detonating just above her. The flash succeeded in knocking Ranma back, tossing him to land within a mass of wiggling arachnid bodies, the strain in his ribs sharp and jarring. When he had frantically pushed himself out of the pile and looked up again, Ranma’s eyes widened . . .

The explosion had tossed Ikioi’s ki-energy into place all around her, forming a crystalline exoskeleton of shimmering energy that was shaped rather like a large arachnid blown from glass. Six long shimmering legs stretched out from a center body-shape, and the cool soft glow that emitted from the form filled the chamber, rendering the chandelier spiders superfluous. Each leg was segmented far too many times, and ended with a flashing silver tip, sharp and delicately deadly. There was a harsh chiming as the form moved, the sound of glass grinding against quartz.

Within the body of this shielding, Ikioi floated, transformed. No longer simply a beautiful girl, she now had the form of a gossamer woman, an angel consisting only of the swirling ki-energy gleaned from Ryoga, which bled from her in static waves of raw power, and granted her a slightly reddish glow. The lines of her body had lengthened, giving her a truly regal and amazonian stature, but her skin had become almost as transparent as the exoskeleton, revealing nothing physical within her at all. She was a creature of pure ki, and the energy which comprised her form was punctuated by her large shining aquamarine eyes, set like jewels within the crystal crucible of her face. Her long ebony hair spread around her like a sentient cloak, locks moving and twisting under some unseen influence. Bits of glittering ki hung all around her like faithful attendants, their gentle bell tones harmonizing with the hum in the air.

A radiating star of silver and white turned and pulsed in her chest, fluttering uneasily. Ranma’s eyes went immediately to the treasure, to that beautiful lattice of power which seemed at once so strong and yet so delicate. He knew the feel of the spirit, knew how to mentally touch a person’s life-force, but he had never actually seen chi before. Somehow, he was not surprised that Ryoga’s was so exquisite, even imprisoned as it was. Burning with a fragile platinum fire, it was the essence of the Lost Boy, and as Ranma fixed his gaze on that glow in Ikioi’s chest, the shards in his mind glimmered in response.

Ryoga’s soul . . . he was looking at Ryoga’s soul . . .

A smaller golden light made its home in the center of Ikioi’s forehead, and another was buried deep within her lower abdomen, barely bright enough to be seen.

As the demoness stretched out her hands, the legs of her ki-exoskeleton began to move in a strangely captivating dance, edging her sideways in Ranma’s direction. The pig tailed boy gaped up at the form which towered over him significantly, frozen for a moment in shock, as if he had been unwilling to accept Ikioi’s new form as real until the moment it moved.

One of those strangely bent legs lifted, the knife-sized pointed tip on the last segment gleaming in the ruby white light, then descended, heading straight for Ranma. The young man was stunned into action, throwing himself to one side. The tip drove into the floor where he had been just seconds before, leaving a crater, shattering the secreted surface in all directions. Ranma scrambled back to his feet and quickly leapt over the pack of smaller spiders who were hurrying to join their Sister in pursuing the Saotome heir.

Ranma dodged another blow from the attacking leg, but felt the glass debris ejected from the strike tear into the back of his legs as he jumped. As he whirled, desperately trying to find any place he might escape to, any place that would offer refuge from this nightmare, he caught sight of Ikioi suspended within her ki-form, her burning eyes driving into him relentlessly. He could almost feel mocking amusement hanging in the heavy air, riding the back of that maddening and ever-present chanting hum. She was still playing with him! Chasing after him like a cat after a mouse!

Ranma narrowly avoided running into a gang of the small spiders, leaping over them like hurdles and ripping through those that tried to intercept him in the air with the Kokoro Kogatana. A crystalline leg of Ikioi’s spider-shield slammed hard immediately behind him, coming so close that it actually tore through the material of his shirt along the back. He was thrown forward from the force of it connecting with the floor and would have hit the wall once again, except that he quickly tucked into a flip and managed to get his feet positioned to take the brunt of the impact. Transferring the momentum through his body, Ranma sprung off the wall and launched himself back toward Ikioi, over the spiders and the legs of the ki-armor, readying the Kokoro Kogatana as he flew toward the woman-form floating within the main body of the shield.

A vicious and challenging "Hyyyyiiiii!" issued from his throat. She was -not- going to play with him anymore!

Ikioi had not taken her sight off Ranma, so saw him coming with plenty of warning. She had only to give a thought to her ki-armor and another of the glass legs swung up to meet the martial artist in mid air. The wicked tip of the final segment dropped toward him in a flashing arch, aiming for his chest.

Ranma skillfully attempted to change his trajectory, thrusting one foot forward to plant directly on the sickle that was swinging to meet him and flipping himself backwards. Unfortunately, he lost some speed in doing so, and as he completed his flip and found himself sailing face-first toward the floor, the tip of the armor leg struck home, tearing down the right side of his back, cutting flesh and muscle as easily as a laser. Ranma screamed through gritted teeth and his body stiffened against the pain, arching backwards, as a spray of blood rose into the air. His stomach lurched sickeningly as the forward momentum of the strike slammed him toward the floor, and he hit in a shattering collision.

He was immediately beset by spiders. Excited by the smell of his blood, the creatures swarmed over him in a dark wave, eager to pull him to shreds. Ranma shouted wordlessly as he was forced to pull his ki-blade once more and defend his life, trying to ignore the shearing pain in his back.

An answering cry came from Ryoga’s throat, startling not only Ikioi, but the Lost Boy himself. He had watched the Shikome’s transformation with only a hint of empty terror in his mind and a sense of foreboding which tightened in his chest, but wasn’t strong enough to actually prompt him into any sort of action. Though there was guilt over the continuing thought that the pig tailed boy darting amongst the creeping spiders was going to die, it wasn’t until Ryoga actually saw that boy hit the floor, followed by a trail of falling blood, that something broke loose within his mind and jolted through his body.

(( Ranma! ))

Ranma . . . Ranma needed help . . . Ranma was going to die . . . and that was not right. This was what -he- deserved. This was -his- hell to bear. Not Ranma’s . . .

Ryoga fumbled to his feet, sharp pains from within protesting the movement. He didn’t have the energy for animation or speed, but he staggered forward regardless, finding it somewhere. He could not let another be killed for his mistakes. He could not let another suffer for what was his punishment alone to bear. That guilt and despair superseded all other concerns. Clinging to those feelings, the Lost Boy fought to remain on his feet, fought to bring his hands together in front of him, and fought to draw energy from somewhere that would aid him in creating a bright glowing ball within the span of his fingers . . . a ball that was comprised of hopeless futility, self-recrimination and guilt . . . the only things that were still his to shape.

Ranma heard a strangled cry of "Shishi Hokodan!" and instinctively ducked as a blazing bullet of power tore through the spiders that were mobbing him, incinerating a majority of the beasts instantly amidst a torrent of shrieking and screaming. Hot sheering wind buffeted Ranma and ruffled through his hair as he threw his arms up to counter the blast and protect himself from its effects. His broken ribs ground together distressingly, and the fresh wound on his back felt as if it were tearing, but Ranma somehow managed to stay on his feet, and although there was pain . . . there was also a thrill of hopeful joy.

Ryoga! Ryoga was helping him! He was -not- lost as Ranma had feared!

"Ryoga!" Ikioi’s chiming voice seemed to be everywhere in the chamber, a living thing filled with surprise, anger and hate. It was both a reprimand and a command, and in response, the two dozen spiders that had been serving as Ryoga’s guard came to life and skittered into action. The largest of these screeched and jumped for a wall, and as it did, a strangely metallic-looking cable of webbing shot from its spinnerets and snaked itself around the Lost Boy’s neck, tightening and jerking him backwards before he could fall to his knees from the strain of releasing the ki-blast.

Ryoga’s cry was ragged, the air being choked from him almost immediately. He was dragged back and upwards as the spider quickly scaled the wall and made the ceiling. The other creatures also scrambled for the walls, moving in a spreading pattern, and each sent out lines that hissed through the air and wrapped around Ryoga like metallic serpents. He was jarred abruptly as the webbing snared him and snapped his limbs out and backwards roughly. One of his shoulders dislocated as it was wretched violently, and the strong lines that snaked around his waist and chest crushed him as they were pulled tight. His legs were caught as well, the webbing slicing easily through the material of his pants and biting hard into his skin, pinching it and pulling it taunt. The happily chittering creatures pulled him up, lifting him higher into the air, Those that were restraining his limbs fanned themselves out on the walls, and those that were carrying his weight, with the cabling wrapped around his chest, waist and neck, positioned themselves on the ceiling. As one, they tightened any slack in their web and froze into place like statues, with Ryoga hanging face down between them.

The entire operation had taken only seconds, rapid flashing moments of time that had made no sense at all to the Lost Boy. As everything came to an abrupt halt, and the webbing was pulled taunt, a hoarse scream of pain came from his throat, the burn of dozens of shearing cuts penetrating his mental barriers. The floor seemed to spin wildly beneath him, and the lines that were supporting the majority of his weight were slowly digging into his flesh, tearing and crushing him.

"No!" Ranma protested, his voice sounding more animal than otherwise. He threw off the spiders that had survived Ryoga’s blast and shot forward, forgetting any of his own pain and spurred on only by the tortured agony he saw reflected on the Lost Boy’s face. He drew on his renewed anger, letting it pour through his body and fuel his speed, the Kokoro Kogatana blazing to new life in his fist. Using the powerful muscles of his legs to launch himself into the air, Ranma ground his teeth together and growled ferally as he aimed himself once again for the center of Ikioi’s ki-armor and the demoness herself.

Some distant whisper in his mind was surprised that she didn’t move to counter him as soon as he attacked, but her glowing attention was on Ryoga’s suspended form. She was almost mesmerized by the sight. This . . . this was what every Shikome dreamed of . . . having a beloved Host properly secured in the web to slowly drain away over hundreds of years. The pain that lined Ryoga’s face was so beautiful, so perfect. Could she have chosen a better man? Despite all of the trouble, she was certain that no one else would have looked nearly as ethereal wrapped in the bio-metal webbing of her Brothers. No one else would have inspired such complete joy within her. Of course, his chi was beating hard . . . harder than it had since they had entered her Realm, distressed and fluttering in her chest almost frantically, but even that felt wonderful . . .

She was distracted! Ranma fixed his gaze squarely on Ryoga’s chi, on the prize he had to liberate, and when he landed on the outer surface of Ikioi’s shimmering armor, he wasted not a second. Drawing his arm back, Ranma plunged his blazing red ki-blade in.

There was a shattering spray of sparks as the energy knife penetrated the shield, and flickering cracks appeared on its surface. Ikioi swung her attention from Ryoga to what Ranma was doing, just a fraction too late, for the pig tailed martial artist struck again, encouraged by the damage he had done. The blade sank deeply into the ki-armor, fracturing it, injecting Ranma’s anger deep into its structure and splintering it from the inside out. With all his strength, Ranma twisted his arm, drilling his way into the shield, eyes still firmly locked on Ryoga’s chi. Stress lines snaked and shot their way through the armor’s form, resisting the violation of Ranma’s ki as Ikioi held her hands up and poured more power into maintaining its integrity. Ranma ground his teeth, and hissed out a shriek of fury, each muscle in his body stridently protesting as he continued to bear down, forcing every ounce of his fury into the Kokoro Kogatana.

Everything gave away at once. Ikioi’s ki-form could not stand the pressure of Ranma’s anger and burst suddenly into countless sparks and shrapnel which tore through the chamber, ripping through spiders and walls, pummeling Ryoga where the boy hung in his metallic prison of webbing. Finding himself suddenly no longer held back by the barrier, Ranma gave into his forward momentum and shoved the ki-blade downward, aiming for Ikioi’s chest, intending to free the chi she had entombed there. Ikioi brought up her basic shield, but the force of Ranma’s anger was too great and he ripped through it without effort or faltering. The molten red Kokoro Kogatana punched a hole into Ikioi’s chest and sank deeply.

She screamed and her entire form was shot through with jumping red lightening as she and Ranma, no longer supported by the ki-armor, crashed to the floor of the chamber. But it was not her scream which caused Ranma to back away rapidly and withdraw his blade in horror.

It was Ryoga’s.

The Saotome heir looked up in shock as Ryoga thrashed and struggled in the metallic web, his body wracked by some unseen agony. Ranma could feel the jagged edge of the Lost Boy’s pain jangle around in his own head and heart, pain so great that it was immediately overwhelming and indescribable. Ranma was driven to his hands and knees simply from the backwash he was receiving from Ryoga, mind consumed by threatening blackness . . . ((Ryoga . . . )) he choked mentally, trying desperately to get a handle on the shadows of the Lost Boy’s sudden excruciating pain. ((What . . . what’s wrong with you?))

Ikioi shakily got to her feet, her form flickering between that of the angelic woman and the perfect girl. Renegade crackles of Ranma’s angry red ki continued to dance through her, and there was pain etched in her face as well, but more than that, there was an expression of extreme distress. Trembling tumultuously, she laid her hand over her chest and drew in a strained breath, whispering her words in soft tones laced with worry and accusation. "Ranma Saotome . . . what have you done . . . ?"

Ranma lifted his head, sweat dripping from the heavy hang of his bangs, and looked up at Ryoga, dread pounding out of rhythm with his frantically beating heart. After the first few seconds of screaming and struggling, the Lost Boy had gone frighteningly limp in his restraints, head hanging low, watery blood from various cuts and wounds dripping thinly to the floor. The pain was still there, however, ghosting through Ranma in wave after wave. The pig tailed martial artist shifted his attention to Ikioi, wondering if perhaps she was doing something to hurt Ryoga, and froze shock still at what he saw within her chest.

Ryoga’s chi . . . it was beating weakly at its confines, pulsing feebly like a wounded butterfly. At the center of that fragile lattice of light and energy . . . a dark tear . . . a gaping wound . . . a ripping slash which Ranma was horrified to realize he had inflicted with his own ki-blade. Sparking red remnants of his anger continued to flash within the ruined structure of Ryoga’s soul, the dancing patterns matching the rhythm of pain which Ranma could still feel coming from the Lost Boy.

"R - ryo . . . " Ranma breathed, cold with the shock of what he had done. This wasn’t what was suppose to happen! The Kokoro Kogatana was suppose to defeat Ikioi, and yet she was still standing before him and Ryoga’s chi was . . . Ranma staggered to his feet and backed up a step, bewildered and feeling violently ill. Ryoga’s chi . . .

Ikioi doubled over briefly, grimacing and making a hissing sound of pain, both hands going to her chest to tuck protectively around the wounded chi. She tossed her head and glared up at Ranma, settling finally into her more familiar form, eyes burning like glaciers beneath a midnight sun. "You . . . " she snarled lowly, her body shuddering as the last tendrils of his ki-energy dissipated away. "How could you be so stupid? You’ve hurt him again!"

Ranma took another step backwards, still too disoriented to do anything more. He shook his head frantically. "No . . . no! I didn’t mean . . . "

Ikioi wasted no more words. With a cry of sheer furious rage, she straightened and called energy to her hands, building a ki attack faster than Ranma could follow. A crackling orb of power and light formed between her fingers, snarling as if it were a living animal of some kind. In the split second between its formation and her release of the lethal attack, Ranma was absently conscious of the spider creatures hurrying to be away from him, and acutely aware of the shards of Ryoga within his heart, all shattering suddenly into smaller pieces, unable to withstand the pain of the horrible wound now on his chi.

(( Ryoga . . . ))

The ball of energy hit him then, wrapping around him and slamming him backwards. If Ranma screamed . . . he never heard it. All he knew was the sheering agony that engulfed him and the devastating crack in the back of his skull as he hit the wall.

Then everything went black, and he knew nothing.

**************************************************

Within the absolute darkness, She rumbled to Herself in agitation. The entire collective could feel the waves of pain that came from the new Host as the Daughter allowed his chi to be damaged. The anxious buzz of disturbed thoughts being exchanged drifted through the ether. Most of the Children had some idea of what was happening and many wanted to go to the Daughter’s defense, but She would not allow it. The young one had to learn on her own, had to get a proper feel for fighting her own battles. But this . . . this was getting a bit out of hand and causing ripples of disruption in the Realm. That would not do.

She decided that She would step in. For the first time in decades, She stirred fully, massive body lurching in Her chamber. She carelessly brushed aside the suspended decaying bodies of long forgotten Hosts as she reached out with a number of Her impossibly long legs and grasped the opening to Her lair, dragging Her bulk out with some effort. Above Her chamber was another, a huge round place with dim lighting granted by Her own chandelier spiders.

Settling on top of Her chamber, attended by a undulating wave of exciting eager arachnids, She sent forth the humming signal which was heard all throughout the Realm, and which would bring the Daughter for an audience.

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