Shutting out the sounds of her father ranting and arguing with Saotome-san, Akane Tendo shivered softly as she felt a faint trembling flutter begin in her chest, and a strange sense of dizziness whisper through her mind.

It might have had something to do with the pain-numbing drugs she had been given to counteract the bone crushing bite that one of Ikioi’s spiders had inflicted on her ankle, or the mild dose of Valium a nurse had administered after Akane lost her temper toward Ranma’s insensitive and narrow-minded father, but she really didn’t think so. It was a feeling far more intimate than that, far more familiar. As she rested in her clean stiff hospital bed, an IV stuck in the back of her hand and oxygen cannula in her nose, Akane gently pressed her fingers against the center of her chest, sensing some sort of uneasy vibration sounding within her, as if she were a drum resounding only the memory of a beat. It was in her head as well, to a lesser extent, and though she did not know exactly the message the feeling carried, she sensed it was not one of good news.

The hand of another came to rest on her shoulder, and Akane looked up into Ukyo’s dusty blue eyes, seeing the worry and concern reflected there. And there was something else in her expression, something that gave Akane the impression that the other young woman was sharing her feeling. In answer to the questioning tip of the head Ukyo directed at her, Akane asked quietly, "Ucchan? Do you feel it too?"

This didn’t stop the argument at the other end of the room, but it did draw the attention of Akane’s two older sisters, who were also in attendance. On her right side, Kasumi leaned over and rested her soft caring hand on Akane’s other arm, while Nabiki looked curiously over her older sibling’s shoulder.

"Imoto?" Kasumi asked gently. "What’s wrong?"

Akane continued to gaze at Ukyo, who seemed unsure. The long haired girl lifted her own hand to her chest and appeared to concentrate her attention on something in the far distance that only she could see. Vibration . . . trembling . . . she wasn’t sure what it meant, but she knew instinctively that it was what Akane had asked about. Nodding vaguely, Ukyo shifted her eyes back to the young woman in the hospital bed. "Hai . . . " she responded uncertainly. "It’s weak, but I think so . . . what is it?"

"I don’t know," Akane muttered, leaning back against her pillow wearily. She wouldn’t have called her feeling weak, but perhaps Ukyo was interpreting it differently. "But it doesn’t feel good. I think . . . " She paused for a moment, drawing in a breath, not really wanting to give voice to her intuition. " . . . I think Ranma and Ryoga may not make it back . . . "

This time her comment produced silence from everyone in the room, much to the relief of Akane’s pounding headache. The accusation-match that had been ongoing between Soun and Genma since they were told of the entire story ground to an abrupt halt, and both men looked at Akane as if she had just uttered blasphemy. Though the Saotome elder had been pleased by Ranma’s initiative in facing a demon, as was the duty of all martial artists, he had not been quite as receptive to the notion that his son had engaged said demon in defense of a young man he loved. Especially not, as Genma put it, "That damned Hibiki brat." Soun, on the other hand, immediately found some reason to blame the skewing of Ranma’s sexual preferences on Genma, and thus the ranting, bawling debate had begun.

More than once, doctors and hospital security threatened to throw them both out, and immediately after losing her cool at him, Akane -had- demanded that Genma be removed from her room, but he slipped back in to continue the mutual tirade with his life-long friend, and Akane found herself too tired to protest. Now, however, her words prompted the first complete silence her hospital room had known since she had been assigned to it.

As usual, Kasumi was the first to offer comfort and encouragement, smiling softly and patting Akane’s arm. "Now, don’t think that way. They’ll both be fine," she assured soothingly.

"Oneechan," Akane winced inwardly at her older sister’s words. "You don’t know this girl and what she might be capable of like we do. Ikioi’s a demon, Kasumi. And with the way to her Realm closed now. . . well, I’m not sure how they -could- get back."

"Shampoo’s great grandmother has been in touch with all of her associates who are even the least bit familiar with Shikome folklore," Ukyo added with a sigh. "None of them know of any way to breech the barrier between dimensions."

"I’m sure it’s not as bad as it seems," Kasumi decided in a patient tone. "Ranma is a very resourceful boy. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if he showed up again any minute now."

"Sure, sis." Nabiki frowned at the little delusional world that Kasumi appeared to exist in. Perhaps the eldest Tendo daughter hadn’t been paying any attention to the story that Akane had told them, but like usual Nabiki had. She hated to admit it, even privately, but she would lay odds on both Ranma and Ryoga’s hash being pretty much settled. And what a waste of a handsome pair of cash bulls.

"You’re right, Kasumi!" Genma gave everyone in the room a big smile, which was cheapened by the cold glint in his eyes. "I’ve taught my boy well. Any time now he’ll come waltzing back, none the worse for wear."

Soun eyed his friend darkly. "Ready to wed my daughter, of course."

Genma laughed heartily and slapped the other man on the back in a good natured manner. "Of course, Tendo-kun!"

He was felled by a metal sterile basin. For being drugged and laid up in a hospital bed, Akane was still a remarkably good shot. "Uggh! Honestly! Haven’t either of you been listening to a word I said? I’m not marrying Ranma!"

"They’re listening, Akane," Nabiki said laconically, though was inwardly impressed with the hit her sister had scored on the Saotome patriarch’s skull. "They’re just not hearing."

"Oh dear," Kasumi gazed at Genma, bringing her hand to her mouth in a gesture of concern. Though dazed, the big man was already stirring fitfully, so apparently he wasn’t too injured. Ukyo’s eyes sparkled lightly at the damage inflicted and a small smile crossed her lips.

"But Akane!" Soun was coming dangerously close to wailing. "You love Ranma! You can try to deny it all you want, but I know you do. Oh, how horrible!" Apparently overcome by the tragedy of the entire situation, Soun gripped his head between his hands and flopped face first onto the foot of Akane’s bed. "Ranma is gay! You must be so devastated, my poor injured dishonored little girl!"

Nabiki rolled her eyes. "Our Daddy, the drama queen."

Akane sat up a bit and glared at her father’s prone form. She was tired and fuzzy from the medication and really didn’t want to deal with any of this right at the moment, but knew that she’d better straighten it all out now, rather than wait for time to further complicate things. "Otosan. Get a grip, please. I don’t care if Ranma is gay, in fact, I’m glad he is! Now that everyone knows, maybe we can just put this whole marriage fiasco behind us. I don’t need Ranma to carry on the dojo, and he doesn’t need me to carry on the School. We’d both be much happier if you would let us be who we want to be, instead of trying to make us into what you want. The bottom line is this - Ranma is gay and he loves Ryoga."

"My son is -not- gay!" Genma protested angrily as he used a chair to haul himself back to his feet, only to be ignored by the others in the room.

"But . . . " Soun sniffled, looking up at his daughter with a very pale expression on his face. The Tendo patriarch was not one who faced the truth well. "But . . . Akane! What about you?!"

Akane knew what he meant, knew that he wanted her to admit to some nonsense about being hurt and disgraced, so that he would have a reason to launch immediately into protective father mode and impose his will on the entire situation for the sake of his little girl. Normally, because she loved him and didn’t want him hurt, Akane let him. But it was time for such things to come to an end. Deliberately, she ignored what he meant and crossed her arms, looking away from him.

"What about me?" she repeated tightly. "How many times do I have to say that I don’t like boys before you get the hint?"

For the second time in only a matter of minutes, Akane’s words brought a dead silence descending into the room with the speed of a falling hammer. Even Nabiki looked surprised. The two fathers stared with mouths wide open, and there was the strange expression on Ukyo’s face was waging a battle between shock and relief.

"Oh . . . " Kasumi appeared to be rather bewildered, as if unable to properly process the meaning of her younger sister’s words. She clasped her hands together at her chest and looked away. "Oh my. Oh, Akane."

Akane was immediately sorry for confounding dear Kasumi, but strangely pleased to see her father and Saotome-san stunned into remarkable parodies of fish gasping for their last breaths. In a small way, it made up for the two long dreary years of their manipulations. Letting her head fall back into her pillow once more, Akane reached for Kasumi’s hand, her expression softening.

"Oneechan. I’m sorry for startling you. But I’m not going to dance around the subject any more."

Kasumi blinked, still on the far side of flustered. "Akane . . . " She took her younger sister’s offered hand and squeezed it, a distant smile drifting bravely across her face. "Oh, you know that I love you no matter what. I was just a bit. . . surprised."

"I’ll second that," Nabiki had recovered her own composure and re-adopted her normal disinterested tone, but only just barely. She smirked at Akane, her mind already trying to come up with ways to turn this to her advantage. If Kuno paid handsomely for pictures of just Akane by herself . . . perhaps he would shell out even more for shots of Akane engaged in some hot girl/girl action . . .

Her contemplation was interrupted by a renewed break-out of hostilities between Soun and Genma, both of whom had apparently recovered from the shock, at least to the extent that their mouths were working again. The Tendo elder turned on his Saotome counterpart and began to shout accusations and curses that made the four girls present blush hotly.

The only repeatable words to slip out consisted of - "Saotome! This is all your fault! Your son has corrupted my innocent little girl! Your hentai fag of a son!"

"Now, you just hold on a minute, Tendo!" Genma fairly roared in reply, while the girls stared at Soun in shock. "My son is as straight as an arrow! If anyone is to blame here, it’s . . . " Obviously groping for an excuse to clear his own reputation, the big man latched onto the first scapegoat that came to mind. " . . . it’s the Hibiki boy! Yes, that’s it! I never did like that annoying brat, always thought there was something not right about him. It should be obvious, Tendo, that the little bastard has perverted my son!"

Soun appeared willing to consider the idea, eager to assure the purity of their children and attach blame to a boy who probably was already dead anyway, but before he could open his mouth to offer agreement, both he and Genma were forced to hastily duck a barrage of thrown spatulas. The deadly little weapons thunked into the wall exactly where their heads had been only a heartbeat before.

They were faced with an enraged Ukyo, who radiated quite the furious battle aura. She stood before them, eyes dark, several more spatulas held ready in the span of her fingers. In the bed behind her, Akane was emitting equal anger, but was held in check by Kasumi’s gentle but firm embrace.

"How dare you!" Akane spit, regardless of her sister’s admonishments to stay calm and in bed. Her wrath was directed straight at Genma Saotome, but Soun took more than his share of the backlash. "How dare you talk about Ryoga like that?! You bastard!"

"Akane!" Kasumi gasped at her youngest sister’s language.

"Get the hell out of here, you spineless old pricks!" Ukyo hissed, stepping forward to prompt them to head for the door. The hospital staff, alerted by the shouting, were already coming in to investigate, complete with a handful of security officers who had been expecting this troublesome duo to cause more problems. Within moments, the two patriarchs were being ushered from the room. Genma was silent, a grim scowl set on his wide face, but Soun’s wailing could be heard all the way to the elevator at the end of the hall.

The nurse assigned to Akane was not pleased. She ordered up a higher dose of Valium to calm her furious patient and firmly requested that everyone leave so that the girl would have some time to rest. Giving Akane a loving kiss on the cheek, Kasumi assured that she would speak to Soun about everything and attempt to calm him down. Nabiki patted Akane’s shoulder with an encouraging comment about how she had certainly succeeded in livening things up. The two sisters left together after promising to return as soon as Akane had rested.

Ukyo moved to leave too, but Akane asked the nurse to let the girl stay for a few minutes. Against her better judgement, the older woman agreed, and granted Ukyo the time until the Valium took effect and the youngest Tendo fell asleep.

The okonomiyaki chef busied herself with helping Akane resettle, tucking the sheet and blankets around her securely, though she was still fuming, as her quick terse movements indicated. "Ugh! I hate that old man."

"Hai," Akane agreed. "I haven’t cared for him from day one, but this just nails it for me. Between him and my father, they’ve managed to make life pretty stressful and miserable for both me and Ranma, but I can’t believe that he’s so insistently blind and insensitive toward his own son. And to say such a thing about Ryoga . . . " Akane simmered angrily. "I just want to kill him."

"Get in line, sugar." Ukyo finished tucking-in activities and sat on the edge of the bed, looking at Akane. The anger in the girl’s dark brown eyes was over emphasized by the weary circles beneath them, and the pale shade of alabaster that her skin had adopted since being injured. The EMTs which attended both Akane and Mousse immediately after the fight had had the foresight to retrieve several of the dead spiders from the Hibiki home, from which an anti-venom was synthesized, but the poison had taken its toll on both of the wounded martial artists. Though no extensive tests had been done yet, the doctors overseeing the case were concerned about nerve damage, and possibly more cumulative problems down the road.

This was on top of the more obvious injuries. Akane’s ankle had been crushed by the spider’s bite, and would require reconstructive surgery. Mousse’s wound was deep and had been badly aggravated by his movements while fighting. The doctors cautioned that it might be awhile before either of the patients would be back up to par. Shampoo was currently making a nuisance of herself in Mousse’s room, having announced to the hospital staff in no uncertain terms that she absolutely was not leaving her tribal brother’s side, and incessantly badgering the nurses over every detail concerning their care of the injured young Amazon. Still considerably befuddled by pain-killers, Mousse was spending most of his time caught halfway between disbelief and euphoria.

Ukyo patted Akane’s hand where it rested on the bed and smiled. "Calm down, Akane-chan," she suggested, hoping to soothe the girl’s ire and help ease her into sleep. "They’re gone, and if either of them try to get back in here, I’ll personally kick their asses."

Akane chuckled dryly and lifted her hand so that she could hold Ukyo’s. "Arigato, Ucchan. I just wish . . . " That strange vibrating feeling was still present in her chest, though it had been eclipsed briefly by her anger. It still made her uneasy and she hated not knowing what it meant, hated having no level of control in what was happening at all. The only comfort she gained from the distant trembling was that she hoped it meant that Ranma and Ryoga, wherever they were, still lived. As distressing as the sensation was, she feared it stopping even more. "I wish I knew what this feeling meant . . . and why I’m feeling it."

"It seems obvious to me," Ukyo said quietly, shifting her gaze to the oximeter which was keeping track of the levels of oxygen in Akane’s blood. The little digital numbers were flickering sporadically right around 80, which was much lower than the doctors wanted to see. "Ranma and Ryoga are your best friends, you’re closer to them than anyone else, ne? There’s a strong connection between you, strong enough to carry even across dimensions."

Akane thought about that for a moment. It was true, she did have a close bond with both young men. Even though he tried her patience and she tended to take her frustrations out on him, Akane thought of Ranma as a close protective brother. Despite that the teasing between them occasionally hurt, their rivalry often served to bring out the potential in both of them, enabled them to do things that they would have never attempted otherwise. The arguments and taunting were simply their way of pointing out each other’s true feelings and shortcomings, without having to actually admit to caring.

It made Akane smile to think about it. Would she have ever pushed herself to train as hard as she had if Ranma hadn’t come into her life? Until that fateful day, she had been content with her abilities, even though she knew that she could take them so much further. But until Ranma arrived, Akane really hadn’t had anything or anyone to seriously measure herself against. Her father, as good as she knew he could be, simply hadn’t taken the time and effort to teach her as he might of if she were a boy; and being her father, his instruction consisted more of fond praise than of anything constructive. Ranma had helped her to see where she was really lacking, and had given her the desire to work for improvement. Certainly they baited each other a great deal, but neither of them really meant the jabs they threw. Just like any brother and sister, they loved each other, deep down.

And Ryoga . . . well, Akane had forged a bond with him from the moment she first held him in her arms as P-Chan and kissed his snout. She had done it on purpose, not only to get back at Ranma for picking on the Lost Boy, but because she had immediately recognized the loneliness and self-imposed isolation that Ryoga surrounded himself with. She had seen the wounded shine in his eyes when he arrived to face Ranma that first time, and her maternal heart sought to comfort him. Perhaps it had been a mistake on her part, indulging the insecurity that told him he could only accept her attentions while in his cursed form, but truthfully Akane had preferred it that way.

His idyllic love for her was flattering, but she knew she could never return it, not in the way he would have wanted. She simply wasn’t interested in boys and never had been, her crush on Tofu-sensei had been more of an idolization for the only other strong martial artist she knew besides her father.

Thus P-Chan served as a comfortable safety net for both of them. Ryoga could hid behind the form and, selfishly, Akane adored having someone to take care of, someone who didn’t demand or protest her attentions. And she was impressed by what a gentleman he was, even if protected by his cursed form. He never took advantage of his closeness to her, never peeped on her when she was bathing or changing clothes, never showed anything but the utmost respect and regard for her. No one else in her life did that, and Akane quickly grew addicted to the feeling of being adored. It was a guilty pleasure.

Through feeding off each other in such a way, they -had- become close. Even when he was P-Chan, Akane could read Ryoga’s state of mind. And because he knew all of the inner feelings that she divulged to him in the course of their late-night one-sided conversations, Ryoga had evolved into her champion, protecting her honor and emotions with devoted ferocity even at his own expense. That she had allowed him to do that to himself shamed her now, but she had to admit that she had enjoyed the attention, and was extremely grateful to him for his love.

(( Yes . . . Ukyo is right, )) Akane smiled again, snuggling down in the bed a little tighter. (( There is a bond between us, isn’t there, Ryoga-kun? My oniisan. And there is a bond between myself and Ranma, strong even though we tease and pick on each other . . . or maybe -because- we do. And between you and Ranma . . . the three of us . . . we’re all connected . . . ))

Akane’s found that her thoughts were starting to drift as the Valium took effect, but she tried to keep focused on that trembling in her chest which was trying to tell her what was happening to her loved ones . . . her brothers. Ranma and Ryoga . . . the word ‘brother’ suddenly seemed to carry far more meaning than that which was normally assigned to it. For perhaps the first time, Akane was able to admit to herself that she really did love them . . . not necessarily in the passionate sense that existed between a couple, but in a way that was no less valid.

Akane opened her eyes as she felt Ukyo stir on the bed, a little surprised because she didn’t remember closing them. She gazed up at the other girl for a long moment, contemplating her fine though somehow masculine features and the soft weary light in her dusty blue eyes. Ukyo was tired too, and with good reason - they had been through a lot in the last day or so. Akane remembered feeling the other girl at her back during the fight, touching Ukyo’s aura with her own as they flared together in battle . . . and knowing that same sense of peace that she felt in Ryoga’s protective presence.

"Ranma and Ryoga are your best friends," Ukyo had said. "You’re closer to them than anyone else, ne? There’s a strong connection between you, strong enough to carry even across dimensions."

(( Yes . . . )) Akane thought fuzzily.

"Ucchan," she muttered, eyelids heavily trying to shut again. "You feel it too . . . "

Ukyo glanced down, slightly startled because she had thought that Akane was already asleep. It took her a few heartbeats to link the Tendo girl’s words with what they had been talking about previously, as quite some time had passed. Time that Ukyo had spent simply holding Akane’s hand and thinking about her earlier revelation to her clan. Time she had dared to fill with wistful hope. Now she leaned forward, squeezing the hand she held and reaching out to brush Akane’s bangs away from her face.

"Hai," Ukyo agreed softly, catching the last gaze of Akane’s dark eyes as they drifted closed. "I’m close to Ranma too, but I think I feel it . . . because you feel it, Akane-chan"

Taking those words with her as she slipped into sleep, Akane Tendo smiled faintly, lightly clutching Ukyo’s hand in return. The dusty blue of the other girl’s eyes stayed with her, and Akane felt herself accepting and welcoming the very concept of Ukyo Kuonji into her heart, nestling it gently beside the trembling feeling and drawing strength from it.

Yes . . . that felt right.

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

He’d failed . . .

At first, that was all there was . . . soft accusing words that shimmered through Ranma’s mind like jewels held to the light, glittering coldly as he fell . . . fell for what seemed like forever. Failed . . . failed . . . he was so unfamiliar with the word. It represented a concept that he had somehow managed to avoid throughout all of his years of training, through every fight and challenge. No matter how bad things were . . . Ranma Saotome always managed to come out on top. Skill, intelligence, and sometimes just plain stubborn tenacity, saw him through.

Except for this time . . . this time when it had mattered most . . . he’d failed . . .

It wasn’t suppose to happen this way! He was not suppose to fail! He had done what he’d been instructed - had gathered all of his emotion into the burning power of the Kokoro Kogatana and struck Ikioi with it firm and true. She was suppose to die. She was suppose to give up her hold on the chi she held imprisoned. But instead of defeating the demoness . . . Ranma had inadvertently hurt the very soul he was trying to save . . . .

It wasn’t suppose to happen like that . . .

The feel of his own thought seemed to come from very far away, and was answered only by the sad silent glimmer of scattered shards. (( Ryoga . . . I failed . . . ))

Then, after the shame of defeat, came the pain.

It seemed to explode in the back of Ranma’s head, gathering strength there and traveling down into his body. He vaguely heard himself utter a belated exclamation in protest, but the sound of his voice was immediately whisked away out of his reach, out into the void through which he was falling. It hurt . . . oh Kami-sama, but it hurt! He had never known a muscle-weary pain like this before, as if every piece of himself had been stretched to the point of breaking, then snapped violently back into place like a carelessly used rubber band. But despite that . . . Ranma did not want to give up . . . did not want to finish the long list of his accomplishments with the word ‘failed.’

He could not fail . . . no matter how bad it hurt. He could not fail . . . not while he still held those shards within himself . . . not while there was still even the smallest chance . . .

Ranma braced himself in anticipation of further pain, then forced his body to stop its downward free fall. He floated for a long while, tensing against the whining protest of his muscles, and finding himself mired down in a thick liquid atmosphere of darkness. Breathing was difficult and movement was even harder, but Ranma pushed himself upwards again, looking to go back the way he had come. He had to get out of here . . . get back to the fight and his Ryoga. But it was as if he were trapped beneath multiple seas, and each time he swam up to a surface, he found only another ocean height that needed to be ascended. However, with each level, the light grew ever brighter, and the pain more acute . . . so Ranma knew that he was going the right way.

When he had reached a degree of awareness that allowed him to take stock of the damage, Ranma rested for a bit. He felt the grinding of his broken ribs, and the severe gash Ikioi had opened down his back, which still seemed to be seeping blood and stiffening the material of his shirt. In addition to these injuries, he sensed a new heat in his right shin, a burning crumbling sensation which probably indicated a broken bone. And still present was the blinding pain in the back of his head. Probably a concussion, perhaps even a fracture. Ranma was used to breaking bones, but head injuries had been a remarkably rare occurrence for him, especially considering how many times he’d been bashed in the skull. This hurt like nothing ever had, and combined with the pain throughout the rest of his body . . . Ranma was in agony.

But . . . the pain meant that he was still alive . . . and if he was still alive, then there was a chance . . .

(( I will -not- be defeated! ))

Ranma struggled for consciousness, determinedly dragging himself up through the oppressive seas that wished to drown him, while the surface of each caught some unseen sun and flashed like pieces of a broken aquamarine mirror. Like occasional glimpses of rare smiles in dark earthen eyes that didn’t know happiness nearly often enough. Somewhere within those waters, the fractured psyche that Ranma was carrying with him watched silently, enduring his own pain without protest.

(( Ryoga . . . ))

This time the thought brought with it a vision of the Lost Boy’s damaged chi, starkly taunting Ranma with the sight of that ugly black wound he had inflicted with his own hand. His own hand . . . Though it was still fresh and weeping silvery blood, when he looked closely Ranma could see that the injury carried within it sharp memories of previous hurts . . . old pains and damages that Ranma had also inflicted. Using knives made from words and taunts . . . weapons forged in turning away when his friendship was needed . . .

Ranma slowly found himself drowning again, pulled under by a serpent of his own creation, one which whispered that it was his own selfishness which struck the fatal blow to Ryoga’s soul. His own anger . . . his own fears . . . fears . . . fears . . . fear of allowing the Lost Boy to get too close, even while knowing that what he felt was love. He had spent so many years drawing Ryoga in, keeping him angry and fighting, while pushing him away at the same time, simply to cover his own fears. It was no wonder that the nomad’s feelings cut Ranma as he drew them closer to his heart protectively. The pieces seemed so small and insubstantial now, as if they were crumbling away with each new pain . . . with each passing moment spent suspended in Ikioi’s Realm, and Ranma tried to covetously hold onto them, despite the blood they drew.

(( I’m sorry, Ryoga . . . I’m sorry . . . )) Ranma clutched the glittering treasures and allowed himself to sink again, to be pulled under, weighted down . . .

~ Not your fault, Ranma . . . ~

Lost within the oppressive waters . . . heavy hurt brown eyes beneath a tousle of night black hair . . . rounded almost babyish face . . . a sad scowl punctuated by the presence of a small fang peeping out beneath the upper lip. Ryoga’s phantom looked just as Ranma remembered from the days they had shared in junior high, with a familiar furious and distant glaze to his eyes . . . a lost boy who had already seen too much in his short life . . . Ranma reached for him, grasped only a vaporous impression of an offered hand, and as his fingers passed through Ryoga’s form, the boy looked away slowly, hair gently ruffling in the current of the ocean. The ocean of aquamarine . . .

(( No . . . Ryoga . . . ))

~ It’s not your fault, ~ the Lost Boy repeated, words shimmering beneath the monotonous hum in the water. His lips did not move, but his expression deepened into a heavy sadness. ~ Only I am to blame, and I deserve this fate. ~

(( No! No, you don’t! )) Ranma tried to reach for him again, but when he did his hold on the shards of Ryoga’s personality loosened and some of the pieces fell away irretrievably into the black depths of the sea. He grappled possessively with the rest, but Ryoga simply watched the bits disappear into the darkness impassively.

(( Ryoga! This ain’t -your- fault! )) Ranma insisted firmly. (( Ikioi did this to you, understand? She preyed on your feelings and weaknesses . . . and . . . it was my teasing that caused them weaknesses in the first place . . . I’m sorry . . . ))

Ryoga shook his head, fixing an angry frown onto his young face. ~ You don’t understand. I have allowed everything that’s happened to me. I let you berate me even though your words hurt, because at least you . . . someone . . . was paying attention to me. I let Akane treat me like a pet, I let Akari consider me her own little freak, and I -let- Ikioi have my soul . . . I could have stopped it at anytime, but I allowed it all, Ranma. Because no matter how much it hurt . . . no matter how stupid or ridiculed or loathsome it all made me feel . . . ~

He lifted his eyes and Ranma saw the star shine of tears on his cheeks. ~ It never hurt as much as being alone . . . ~

Ranma felt something inside breaking and falling away. It might have been the shards, but he had a feeling that it wasn’t. It was something that was his and always had been - preconceptions about the boy he knew he loved, an image of Ryoga that he had carried with him for years. Lost Boy, distantly passionate, unapproachable sometimes but gullible and malleable at other times, slightly dim and easily confused, often angry for no discernable reason . . .

He had never understood it before, had never really thought about why Ryoga was the way he was. But now Ranma was looking at a new vision of his friend and rival, and saw him not just as all the things he usually attributed to the young man, but as a lonely little boy as well. A child who had never made friends, who was always wandering and alone, who rarely received the support and love that other children did. Passionate because he had no training in the ways of emotions . . . angry and unapproachable because he expected to be hurt and disappointed . . . malleable and confused because he so desperately wanted to fit in and be cared about, only to find that negative, debasing or possessive attention was the only kind which came readily and easily from those around him . . . from the people that Ryoga cared about the most . . .

These were things Ranma would have never seen prior to this entire mess, things he would have never allowed himself to see, as they might have threatened his own safe mental barriers. But in the course of only a week everything had changed, and nothing was as Ranma had deluded himself into thinking it was. He felt suddenly like he was about to shatter as well, felt cracks appearing in his own strength and endurance. (( I’m sorry, Ryoga . . . I never realized . . . ))

~ The fault is mine. ~ His form growing more indistinct as waves rippled through it, Ryoga moved forward and stopped in the ether immediately in front of Ranma. For a split second that seemed eternally suspended in time, both young men simply hung there, unmoving. Only mere inches apart, shimmering blue eyes locked onto abyssal brown, and the two young man stared at each other, sharing twin expressions of regret and sorrow.

(( I’m gonna get you out of here, Ryoga. )) Ranma promised, telling himself that he had to do all he could to make up for the years of pain between them, to give Ryoga the love and acceptance that he had so craved, to save him from this hell that had ensnared him. (( I swear it. ))

~ Let go of me, Ranma . . . ~ Ryoga blinked slowly, and a vague distant pain clouded the deep clearness of his eyes. ~ Please . . . ~

(( R - Ryoga . . . )) Ranma’s mind went numb with shock over the Lost Boy’s softly whispered words. How could he not want to be free of this torture? How could he think that Ranma would ever leave him behind? (( Wh - why . . . ? ))

Ryoga’s thoughts seemed to be coming from further away, perhaps from down in the dark depths where there shards of his mind had fallen. ~ Because your possession hurts. ~ Ryoga’s eyes slipped out of the lock as his lids began to close heavily.

Ranma stared at him, startled. His . . . his possession . . ? His . . ? But it was his feelings for Ryoga that had brought him this far . . . how could that be hurtful to the Lost Boy? How could it hurt to finally receive the love he had always wanted? It didn’t make sense. Ranma shook his head, trying to rid himself of the uncomfortable thought. Turning the words around in his mind so that they fit more comfortably, he quickly reasoned that Ryoga was just confused . . . he was in pain and mixed up about what the source of that pain actually was.

(( No, Ryoga. I ain’t letting you go. I’m gonna get you out of here. I care about you too much to leave you to suffer - - ))

~ You don’t care about me! ~ Ryoga interrupted, opening his eyes to reveal a familiar angry light within them. ~ If you gave a damn about me, you would let me go! If not for you, this would be easy! I would be able to accept my fate without a second thought or a backwards glance! But you’re clinging to me, Ranma! You’re holding onto me! And why? Because -your- pride has been soiled, -your- property has been taken away, and you don’t care about anything except for redeeming your honor and taking back what’s yours, do you?! ~

Shocked, Ranma drew back, instinctively clutching the shards tighter against his chest. What? (( Ryoga . . . what are you - - ))

~ Let go of me! ~ Ryoga’s words tore through the thick ocean. He furiously swiped his hand forward and knocked the shards from Ranma’s arms. As they fell away, Ranma could only watch in helpless horror, picking out the pinpoint glitter of each piece as it settled into the inky blue-green depths that he had just transversed. When the last shimmer had faded away, he lifted his head and gazed at Ryoga’s wavering apparition, a great emptiness welling up within him.

(( Ryoga, what . . . what have you done? )) his mind whispered.

Ryoga’s anger faded quickly, once again leaving a sad child in its place. He met Ranma’s eyes again, and the pig tailed boy saw himself reflected in the mirrored surface of the Lost Boy’s tears.

~ I’m sorry Ranma. But I left myself behind, and you were never suppose to hold onto what I gave up. It will be better for me this way. ~ He began to dissolve away into the churning waters, retreating . . . once again accepting the destiny that had been laid out for him. Accepting the eternity to be spent in Ikioi’s web. His softly lisped thoughts settled into Ranma’s mind slowly, as gently as falling snow. ~ Ranma. Get out if you can. Please . . . I don’t want you to die for me . . . ~

Ranma stayed for a long time in the thickness of the oppressive water, staring silently at the empty spot in front of him, and feeling the echoing inside. Ryoga’s words of anger haunted him, still lingering in the ocean, each syllable turning like a dark jewel bobbing on the water. (( I . . . I don’t care about him? I only want to redeem my own honor and take back what’s mine? What did he mean by that? How . . . how could he think that? I came here to fight for him, to save him . . . because I love him . . . how can that be wrong? How can that be wrong? ))

It couldn’t be. Ranma knew it couldn’t. His motives were not selfish, they were pure - he only wanted Ryoga back. But even as he tried to convince himself of his own intentions, Ikioi’s words snuck back into his mind as well, the words that had hit a nerve without him understanding why, the accusation that all Ryoga had was Ranma’s selfish claim . . .

(( No! )) Ranma refused to believe it, refused to see what was actually being said to him. No, he had -not- come here because of his own wounded pride. He had come to save Ryoga! And Ryoga -wanted- to be saved. He -wanted- Ranma’s love. Ranma was sure of it, and he would not let it end like this, he would not let Ryoga give in to suffering simply because the Lost Boy thought he deserved no better, he would not let Ikioi’s taunts and his own mind trick him into doubting his motivations. There was still a chance, as long as he still lived, there was still a chance that he could rescue Ryoga and return home with him safely. A very slim chance, perhaps, but he would not give up, he would not be defeated. Because he was Ranma Saotome, and Ranma Saotome did not fail.

Gripping that thought with fierce determination and all the denial he possessed, Ranma clenched his teeth and continued his ascent toward consciousness. Pulling himself through the suffocating aquamarine seas, he fixed his gaze steadily on the brightness above and struggled to gain air, putting all else from his mind. A creature consumed with only a single driving desire, only one goal in his mind. One way or another, he was going to save Ryoga. One way or another . . .

It was time for this to end.

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

Against the chamber walls surrounding Her, many shimmering points of illumination winked into being, flattened disks of crystal which turned and flashed against light that wasn’t there. Within the spin of each, a somber elegant figure, defined only by the outlines of deep shadow and the shine of captured chi, appeared and stepped through into the chamber. Ki-forms, both humanoid and arachnoid, floated in the ether around Her, as the Children moved restlessly, gazing down at their Mother with interest and devoted attention, all thirsty to know what was going on within the Realm, what was happening with the newly arrived Daughter. Windows continued to open, more Children arrived, until the huge chamber was filled with the forms of the uncountable members of the Shikome race. The faint buzz of thoughts being exchanged pressed against the walls and hummed throughout the entire Realm.

Immediately before Her, a fresh window opened for the very first time, and the new Shikome stepped through. The Mother tipped Her relatively small head, contemplating the lovely ki-form, remembering the Daughter She had given life to only a few eye blinks ago in the endless eternity of Her existence. The Child was small, proportioned in a manner that was pleasing to human sensibilities, with a soft cascading mane of hair which rivaled the blackness of Her own nest. The startling color of the Daughter’s eyes currently overpowered the glow of the wounded chi within her chest; they were a rich bright gem-like color, and the Mother was obliged to remember the Child’s sire for the first time in many years. She usually took little notice of males and remembered only very few, but he had stood out among the hundreds of thousands She had taken over time. His eyes had been the same color as his daughter’s, and he had come so beautifully and willingly to Her to be devoured and reborn in the flesh of his offspring.

Her thoughts went outward, drifting through the Children’s heads and glittering in the air like twinkling dew drops trapped on a web. "Daughter," She began, and the voice that was heard was one of triple reverberation, laced with strong and soft feminine tones, the hiss of air passing between fangs, and a gentle clattering of dried bones. "You are the first of your generation to return to the Realm."

The Child bowed her head properly, raising her right hand and extending the left with palm up as she did. "Greetings, Mother Kaliuma," Ikioi responded, her eyes shining with reverent awe as she at last beheld the Mother of her race, the beautiful ageless creature which perched on Her chamber roof, housed within a bulging fused body mass comprised of three different huge insectile creatures and dozens of elegant grasping legs that poked out every which way. Ikioi was shaken to her very core at the impossible sight, at once thrilled to see her matriarch and frightened over the reason she had been summoned in the first place.

One of those legs reached up and the scythe tip at its end gently tapped the chi in Ikioi’s chest. It caused no harm, but the Ryoga’s chi fluttered like a bird with a broken back regardless. Ikioi looked down, shamed and saddened over the ugly black wound on her Heart’s beautiful silver soul.

"We are familiar with the blood of this one," Kaliuma rumbled rustily, like dried crumbling silk. "There have been others of his line in Our Realm, though not for quite some time. It speaks well of you, Daughter, that you were able to bring him. The scion of Hibiki are readily caught, but not so easily kept."

Hundreds of feminine whispers floated through the air, the sea of Shikome praising and encouraging Ikioi for a job well done, giving her mental embraces that illustrated how pleased they were that she had returned before any of the others and had brought such a prize with her. Ikioi should have been happy with the praise, thrilled to have made a mark among her Sisters, even as young as she was. But she couldn’t bring herself to be glad, not when her Heart had been damaged so cruelly, not when she had allowed it to happen by lowering her guard. The mistake was hers, and she knew it.

"I do not deserve such praise, Mother," she muttered, her fingers slipping up to caress Ryoga’s soul gently, lovingly, hoping to calm him. "I have made some mistakes, and one of those mistakes has hurt my Host." (( My Heart . . . )) she filled in mentally. The word Host simply did not seem adequate enough to describe how much she cherished the soul she held.

"Yes, We know this, but your Host is strong and will recover. And you will deal with the interloper easily enough."

Ikioi bowed deeply, as if asking for permission to do as told. The very feel of the air around her granted it, and she took heart in the fact that her Mother seemed so confident of her abilities. It was a good sign. Perhaps she would not be punished for allowing this terrible thing to happen, after all. The aqua-eyed form looked up again, gazing at her matriarch with deep devotion and gratitude, even as worry settled itself within her mind. "I am truly sorry for bringing this shame to the Realm of the Shikome, " Ikioi whispered gently. "For letting my Host be hurt . . . "

"This is not the first time that a returning Daughter has been followed by one who lays claim to the captured Host," Kaliuma rumbled in reply, pausing at the predictable murmur of surprise that rippled through the collective. Only the oldest of the race were able to remember the last time an unattached human had been in the Realm, and the younger Children were surprised that it had ever happened at all.

Kaliuma continued when the conversation had thinned. "It is good that the Children are reminded about the need for vigilance now and then, Daughter. All young ones make mistakes from time to time, and your own shame is light. You have successfully brought your Host here, Child. You have only to deal with this one who has followed you. This is your final test, and its outcome depends entirely on you. A truly realized Shikome must be able to honorably deal with the consequences of her actions, no matter what they may be."

The Mother of the Shikome Race paused for a moment, letting a sense of seriousness and censure permeate the fabric of the Realm. When she finished, her tone was dark. "To this end, Ikioi, We hope that your mistakes have not been too damaging."

The Mother’s final words hung heavily in the ether, leaving a slightly threatening aftertaste behind them. All of the gathered Children whispered uncomfortably amongst themselves as they watched Kaliuma lurch Herself up once more and pitch Her enormous bulk back down into Her private chamber of darkness. Swarms of spiders followed Her, eager to assist.

Ikioi was almost afraid to move at first, as if the Mother might return to reprimand her again, even as her Sisters gathered around to offer welcome and encouragement in her task. Her thoughts went to the wretched human she had left unconscious and nearly dead in her own chamber, that damned Ranma Saotome. If not for him, her return to the Shikome Realm would not have been marred by the displeasure of the Mother. If not for him, her beloved Host would be obliviously serving her, kept in check by the illusions she had offered him. If not for Ranma Saotome . . . Ryoga would not be in the pain he was . . .

Ranma Saotome . . . the man who claimed to love her Ryoga . . . her Heart . . . her Soul . . . her Everything . . .

Ikioi remained with her Sisters only as long as protocol demanded. Despite their warm and embracing welcome, the young Shikome was eager to erase this dark spot on her honor, this shame that had soiled her homecoming. One way or another, she was going to protect her Host. One way or another . . .

It was time for this to end.

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