Author’s Note: Once again, a heartfelt thanks to everyone who reviewed. It’s nice to know my work is being appreciated. I know the story is going a little slow, and after reading some of the reviews I know you’d all like to have more information about the plot, but the only thing I can say is to be patient. All will be revealed in time.

Legal Notice: Ranma ½ is copyrighted to Rumiko Takahashi. All characters portrayed are her property except for the ones I created.

 Reprisal

Part III

Mousse watched with mild curiosity as a group of construction workers busied themselves repairing the building across the street from where he sat. The building was unremarkable, plain brick with many windows and porches; an apartment most likely. What caught his attention was the way it was being repaired. The workers were all over it, on the roof, on the ground, and inside. It didn’t look like a gas main exploded, there was no evidence of a fire and the damage was too sporadic. There were no reports of an earthquake in the recent news and the foundation of the building didn’t look like it was damaged. It was as though someone had jumped all over it while smashing the walls with a large hammer. Buildings in the immediate area surrounding the apartment were damaged in the same way, along with parts of the sidewalk and street. Odd. 

Putting down the newspaper he finished reading, Mousse studied his surroundings one more time. Nerima seemed normal enough. Mothers chatted with each other while their young children played in the park, groups of teenagers loitered around the various shops lining the road, and salarymen were getting off for their lunch break. His attire earned him some glances, but nothing else. The inhabitants gave him a brief look and went back to whatever they were doing, as though nothing were out of the ordinary.

Mousse leaned back against the bench and frowned. There was something strange about Nerima. There was a tension in the air, as though everyone who lived there were holding their breath, expecting something to happen. The closest thing he could compare it to were areas that were prone to attacks by terrorists. And seeing the people so seemingly carefree about it did little to ease his mind. 

Mousse stood up and started walking, throwing the newspaper into a nearby trashcan. The local news told him nothing. He snorted. He never did like this country. The people were nice enough, even if the older ones tended to be xenophobic, but the government was outright insulting to foreigners. He grimaced as he remembered the embarrassing situation at customs involving the metal detector and his detention in one of their holding facilities. After a little friendly persuasion the officials were kind enough to let him go without reporting the incident, but something told him his stay would go along much smoother if he just took the time to create a fake persona in the Japanese national database. 

A low rumbling in the distance made him look up, as drops of rain fell on his face. Dark thunderheads covered the sky ominously while jagged bolts of lightning flashed in the distance. The sky was clear a moment ago. He looked at the inhabitants and once again they acted as though nothing were amiss, and simply made their way to cover.

This place is getting to me, he thought. He checked both sides of the street looking for cars before he passed. There were none. That was also strange about Nerima. As soon as he entered the ward it seemed that all cars simply disappeared. He had not seen one car or any other vehicle since he came here. 

The rain was coming down in torrents by the time he made it to cover. He stood alone under the awning of a nearby shop, thinking about all he had seen, when he heard a cry of dismay. He turned his head to see a woman in the rain dressed in a traditional kimono desperately trying to keep her balance on one foot while holding a long, curved object wrapped in cloth and a bag of groceries. 

Mousse watched detachedly for a moment, analyzing what he was seeing, before walking up to the woman and steadying her with a hand. 

“Are you alright ma’am?” he asked. 

She looked up at him, grateful for the support. “Yes, thank you young man. Oh dear, I seem to have lost my slipper back there.”

Mousse walked back and retrieved the slipper. “Let me hold those for you while you put that on, ma’am,” he said. She smiled thankfully and handed him the bag and the bundle while she put her slipper back on. 

They made their way back under the awning just as the rain began to come down even harder. Mousse set his burden down and stood, combing his wet hair back away from his face with his fingers. He held up a lock of wet hair. It would take a while for it to dry.

“Thank you again for your help, young man.” The woman smiled.

Mousse smiled back slightly. She was older than him, maybe in her mid to late thirties, but still very attractive, with red hair that was so rare in Asian people put up in a bun.

“It was my pleasure, ma’am,” he said, bowing.

“My, how polite!” She laughed. “Oh by the way, is this yours? I found it on the ground.”

She held a small silver medallion in front of him. Mousse quickly felt at the small braid tied in his hair, feeling one of them was missing. 

“Yes, thank you ma’am,” he said, taking it from her and tying it with the other three medallions in the braid. 

“Those are very nice,” she said, admiring the elaborately engraved discs.

“Thank you, ma’am. They were a present from my grandmother in China,” he replied, flicking them with a finger. 

“Really? Did you live there? Your Japanese is very good so I thought you were from around here,” she asked, untying her hair and letting it fall naturally so it could dry out.

He shook his head. “I was born there, but moved to America when I was young with my uncle. I’m just here in Japan to see an old friend of mine. Do you live nearby, Mrs.…?”

“Oh of course, I’m sorry,” she apologized. “My name is Saotome Nodoka.” 

“It’s a pleasure meeting you Mrs. Saotome,” he said, bowing again. “My name is Sun Mu Tzu.” 

“Please Mousse, there’s no need to be so polite,” she laughed. “Call me Nodoka.” 

Mousse smiled. Even if she did mangle his name like most Japanese, he didn’t mind it so much. 

Nodoka looked out into the rain and sighed. “I was hoping to make it home on time to prepare lunch. I guess they’ll just have to go hungry for a while.” 

“If it’s an umbrella you need…” He made a quick gesture with his hands and an umbrella appeared out of thin air. 

Nodoka clapped her hands delightedly. “What a wonderful trick Mousse! Was your uncle also a magician?” 

Mousse shook his head. “No, my father taught me that.” He paused for a moment before finally coming to a decision. “Here, you hold the umbrella and I’ll carry your belongings.” 

“Oh no Mousse, you’ve already helped so much and…” 

“I insist Mrs. Saotome,” he said, handing her the umbrella and picking up the grocery bag and the wrapped bundle. “Besides, I don’t think you can carry that umbrella and these things at the same time.” 

“Well, if it’s not too much trouble for you…” 

“No trouble at all. There’s still some time before I have to meet my friend, so I’ll just help you to your house and be on my way.” 

“Okay, but stay close under the umbrella, I don’t want you getting wet and catching a cold.” 

Mousse only half listened to Nodoka talk as they walked through the rain. His attention was focused on the sword he was carrying. He knew it was a sword the moment he saw it, though it was wrapped in cloth. As soon as he held the bundle he knew it was a good one too, not one of those stainless steel pieces of crap that pseudo martial arts companies sell out of catalogues, but a real sword, forged by a master. He wondered briefly why anyone would carry a sword around like that, but then again, in a place like this he supposed no one could blame her.

“Mousse?”

Mousse blinked, startled. “Sorry ma’am, I drifted off there for a second. You were saying?” 

“I was just saying how much you remind me of my son. Are you a martial artist?” 

Mousse stumbled for a moment, but quickly recovered his balance. Does she know? “Why do you say that Mrs. Saotome?”  

“I told you Mousse, call me Nodoka,” she chided him laughingly. “I don’t know. There’s just something about you that reminds me of Ranma and all the other martial artists around here. It’s like an aura around you that’s different from other people. So are you a martial artist?” 

He relaxed. “Well, I’ve had some training, but I don’t think it’s enough to actually call me a martial artist,” he said. “So, your son’s name is Ranma?” 

“Yes, he’s around your age I think,” she said. “Would you like to meet him, I’m sure you two would get along fine. Maybe if you still have time you’d like for him to teach you some martial arts? He’s very good.” 

“Maybe I would,” he said, smiling slowly. The idea of a friendly sparring match, even if his opponent was hopelessly outclassed, appealed to him. “Yes, I think I’d like that.” 

A few more minutes of idle conversation and walking passed by before Nodoka stopped. In front of them was a large dojo built in the old fashion of the days of the samurai. In other words, it was a small fortress. High walls at least meter taller than Mousse surrounded the perimeter and a large, wooden double-door gate lay open before them. Mousse could see a large house and lawn, even by western standards, in front of him and an even larger training hall to the right. 

“Here we are,” Nodoka said cheerily. 

Mousse glanced at the wooden sign nailed to the wall. Tendo School of Anything Goes Martial Arts.

“You live here with the Tendos?” he inquired. 

“Yes, they’re close friends of the family,” she replied with the same cheery voice. “They are letting us stay here until my home is repaired.”

Mousse briefly thought about the apartment he saw earlier, but before he could ask about it Nodoka was already speaking. 

“Come on Mousse, we shouldn’t stand out in the rain like this!”

The interior of the house was just as spacious as it looked outside, easily large enough to fit two families. 

“Hello?” Nodoka called, frowning when no one answered. She turned back to Mousse, who had set down the bundles to remove his boots. “It seems no one is here yet. That gives me time to cook, but I was hoping to introduce you to everyone. Oh, please Mousse, let me get those.” 

Mousse shook his head, removing the last boot and picking the groceries and sword back up. “No it’s alright, I’ll just put these in the kitchen and I’ll be on my way.”

“No, I’ll get those Mousse. You go upstairs to the bathroom, it’s the first door on the left,” she said, taking them from his arms.

“But ma’am…” 

“No buts, Mousse. Look at you, you’re soaking wet! Were you staying under the umbrella like I told you?” She gave him a stern look. 

“Well, the umbrella was kind of small, and I didn’t want to crowd you…” Mousse trailed off. 

“You shouldn’t have worried about that, Mousse. I wouldn’t be a good hostess if I let a guest catch a cold, now would I?” she asked. 

“I guess not ma’am, but…” 

“Good, now go upstairs and dry off. I’ll go prepare some tea for you,” she said, turning and walking into the kitchen.

Mousse stood there for a moment, slightly confused over what just happened. Being fussed over as though he were still a child was a strange experience. He hadn’t been treated like that since… A pained expression passed across his face. Best not to think about it.

He trudged up the stairs, trying to focus his attention on his surroundings rather than his memories. As neat and clean as the place was, spotless actually, he could see that parts of the walls and floor were made of newer material than the rest, as though they were broken and then repaired on a regular basis. 

Mean termites they got around here. He thought to himself. 

The bathroom was large, like the rest of the house, with a tile floor that depressed slightly towards a drain in the middle. Mousse frowned slightly as he looked at himself in the mirror. His long hair was plastered to the side of his head and shoulders and his coat was dripping water.

He shed his coat and rubbed the hem of it between his fingers. The material was completely soaked through. His solid black, longsleeve shirt and black pants were also wet. 

Might as well change while I’m here. He reached in and pulled out a matching set of dry black clothes, with an oilskin version of the coat he was holding. After drying his hair with a nearby towel, he peeled off his wet shirt and pants and toweled off any water left on his body. He put on the dry clothing and stuffed the wet ones into his coat. Pulling out a comb, he faced the mirror and proceeded to straighten out his hair. It was then that he noticed the girl in the bathtub. 

Mousse stared, not sure if he was seeing right and wiped the mirror with his hand. She was still there. She was pretty, with short, neatly clipped brown hair ending just above the ears. She stared back at him with half-lidded eyes, an analytical expression on her face. Her eyes moved over him up and down once and her lips curled up in a slight smile. 

Mousse stood there, frozen in mid-comb, still not sure what was happening. Aw, shit.

He opened his mouth to apologize and say he would leave right now, but he didn’t get the chance. “Can you hand me a towel?” she asked. 

Mousse blinked. “Excuse me?” 

“I said, ‘Can you hand me a towel?’ You used mine,” she said, wading forward until she could put her arms over the edge of the tub. She was still smiling. 

“Oh, ah, sure,” he stammered, and opened the towel closet. He pulled out a towel and turned back, keeping his eyes carefully averted this time. “Do you just want me to leave it here?”

“Give it to me,” came his response. 

Mousse hesitated, startled, but then swallowed and walked forward with the towel held out in front of him, keeping his eyes away and on the ground. 

“Thank you,” she said as she took the towel from him. Then she stood up. 

Mousse almost choked as he caught a glimpse of her nude form from the corner of his eye. He flushed and immediately turned around, trying to remember how to walk to the exit. His ears caught the sound of humming as the girl slowly dried herself off. 

After what seemed to be an eternity, she stopped humming and walked to the door. He looked up to see if she was gone and instead got a good look at the backside of her slim form, the towel hugging her curves and revealing long, slender legs. 

When she was finally out of sight, Mousse let his breath out in a rush of air. He didn’t realize he was holding it. 

He stood there for a moment, trying to comprehend what happened, but then clenched his teeth and shook his head. He turned to face the mirror. He couldn’t believe how easily he had been caught off guard. After recovering his composure, he combed out his hair and straightened his coat. He looked into the mirror on last time, making sure everything was perfect, before heading down. 

The girl was in the living room lying on the floor, an open magazine in front of her. He paused as she glanced up. She looked at him for a brief moment, as if merely noting his presence, before turning her attention back to the magazine. 

He stood there, unsure of what to do, when Nodoka came out of the kitchen. 

“There you are Mousse.” She smiled. “Was everything alright?” 

“Yeah, everything was good,” he replied. He glanced at the girl and found her looking up from her magazine and staring at him. 

“Good, good,” Nodoka said. “By the way Mousse, have you met Nabiki?” 

“We’ve met, Auntie,” the girl said, her eyes glinting as she looked at him.

Silence fell between the three. Mousse stood stock still while Nabiki continued staring at him. Nodoka got a thoughtful look in her eye. 

“Well then, I’ll just leave you two here while I go dry off,” Nodoka said, and went up the stairs. 

Mousse continued standing while Nabiki smiled. “Are you going to stand there all day?” she asked.

Mousse started, then shook his head and sat in front of her a good distance away. Nabiki sat up with her legs tucked under her and moved a little closer to him.

“That was a nice show you put on there Mousse,” she said, a grin on her face. “You do parties?” 

Mousse’s face turned a deep red. He knew she wasn’t talking about the way he pulled all those clothes out of his coat. 

Next time, remember to wear boxers, he thought to himself. 

He cleared his throat. “I’m really sorry about that Miss Tendo, it was…” he started. 

She waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about that Mousse, it happens all the time around here. And call me Nabiki.” 

His eyes widened in surprise. “It does? Well, still I want to apologize for intruding on your bath.” 

“I said don’t worry about it, it’s alright.” She leaned forward and smiled wickedly. “Besides, the floorshow more than made up for it.”

This time so much blood rushed to Mousse’s face he thought his head was going to explode.

“You’re a martial artist,” Nabiki said, more statement than question.

Mousse started. “You can tell?” 

“With a body like that, you’re either a martial artist or an Olympic athlete,” she said blandly. “And since you’re here in Nerima, I’m betting you’re a martial artist.” 

“Okay, so what if I am,” he said a little suspiciously, not minding her reference to the incident in the bathroom. If she knew what was going on in this place… 

“It means you must want to see Ranma,” she replied.

“Why would I want to see Ranma? Is he important?” he asked.

A surprised expression flitted across Nabiki’s face before settling back into her normal appraising one. “You mean you don’t know who Ranma is?” she asked, a hint of incredulousness in her voice.

When Mousse shook his head she stared at him for a moment then shrugged and pulled something out of her pocket. “My business card. You’ll be needing it.”

Mousse took it and read the inscription. Tendo Information Services.

“My number’s on the back,” she said. “If you need to know anything about anybody, just call.”

Mousse looked at it confusedly before making it disappear in his sleeve. It might be good to have an informant in a place like this. 

“Can you tell me something now?” he asked. 

She paused for a moment, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Sure, why not. You didn’t see my show so I suppose I owe you something.”

“Alright, I just need to…,” he began but paused as he went over what he just heard. “Did you say ‘your show?’” 

“Sure,” she said, grinning. “I figured one good turn deserved another so I thought I’d return the favor. Since you didn’t look I think I still owe you.” 

“Oh,” was all Mousse could manage. His face was so hot he wondered why his hair hadn’t caught on fire yet. He coughed, and then continued. “So anyway, do you know where I can find Khu Lon?” 

“I suppose you mean Cologne, the Amazon,” Nabiki said. All humor disappeared to be replaced by a cool, businesslike attitude. 

“Yes,” Mousse said, abruptly leaning forward, a feverish gleam in his eyes. “Do you know where I can find her?” 

Nabiki leaned back, surprised at his sudden change in behavior and a little frightened at the look in his eye. “Yeah, she’s at the Cat Café. It’s about three blocks down the road and to the left.” 

Mousse nodded and smiled coldly, his hand reaching up to touch his throat. “Thank you very much, Nabiki.” 

Nabiki nodded slowly, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t looking at her now, he just sat there with a strange look in his eye and his hand to his throat.

At that moment Nodoka came down the stairs, dry and dressed in a new kimono.

Mousse stood up as she came in. He bowed. “Thank you for your hospitality, Nodoka, but I’m afraid I must be going. I don’t want to be late.” 

“Are you sure you can’t stay for a while Mousse?” Nodoka asked, disappointed. “Just for a cup of tea?” 

Mousse shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Nodoka, but thank you for asking.”

“You will come back to visit sometime, won’t you Mousse?” 

“I’m sure I’ll be back to visit sometime,” he said, briefly looking at Nabiki. “In fact I’m absolutely sure I’ll be back.” 

Nodoka looked at Mousse and then at Nabiki, a knowing smile forming on her face. “Well you’re always welcome here. Good bye, Mousse!” she called as he walked down the street. He stopped to wave back and continued on his way. 

***  

Two blocks down the street, Mousse began thinking about his visit in the Tendo household. It was a strange place, but no stranger than the rest of the town. His thoughts kept going back to Nabiki, and the image of her in clad in the bath towel refused to leave his mind. 

He also thought about how she managed to keep him off balance the entire time they were conversing. Not many people could do that. 

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Focus on what’s important now.

She was close now, he could feel it. He smiled. I’m coming for you Khu Lon. 

***

Back in the Tendo home, Nodoka shut the door and knelt beside Nabiki, who was back to reading her magazine.

“That Mousse is such a nice boy, don’t you think Nabiki,” she said. 

Nabiki made a noncommittal sound and continued reading. 

“He’s so polite,” Nodoka continued. “Handsome too. He has such nice hair.” 

Nabiki rolled onto her side and looked at her. “If I didn’t know better, Auntie, I’d say you were trying to set me up with Mousse.” Her expression turned mischievous. “Unless it’s you who wants him…” 

“Nabiki, I’m a married woman! No, I’m just pointing out how nice he is. And he will be back sometime…” 

Nabiki shrugged. “We’ll see.” 

Nodoka smiled, satisfied, and got up. 

Waiting until Nodoka went to the kitchen, Nabiki rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, thinking. Nodoka was right though. He was handsome. Very handsome. She thought about how he looked in the bathroom, all lean, tight muscle with long, flowing hair and the most stunning green eyes she had ever seen. And she liked it when he blushed. 

She frowned. But there was something else about him, something that frightened her. As soon as she mentioned Cologne, he transformed from a nervous young man to a predator. At that moment she knew he was extremely dangerous, she felt it inside to her very core. 

Then again, maybe it wasn’t so bad. That sense of danger about him was thrilling in a way. And of course, there was the possibility some cash could be made from this. Things have gotten too quiet ever since the failed wedding between her sister and Ranma. 

She smiled. This could be interesting.

Part IV

The rain had stopped halfway to the Cat Café, replaced by a cloudless blue sky and radiant sunshine. Mousse held out a hand from under the umbrella and looked up before tucking it away in a sleeve. He squinted painfully under the sunlight that was made even more intense by the weather’s sudden transition from dark storm to clear sky. He pulled out a pair of red-tinted spectacles and put them on, blinking a few times as the world took on a crimson hue. Looking around he saw that the people had returned from their cover and were walking the rain slick sidewalks, acting as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

He was about to continue walking when he felt something collide with his leg. He looked down to see a black potbelly pig wearing a yellow bandanna glaring up at him with surprisingly intelligent eyes. If he didn’t know better, it was as though the pig was saying, ”What the hell are you lookin’ at?” It picked itself up, snorted once at him indignantly then walked off, its snout held up in the air. 

Mousse stared at the pig until it disappeared down an alley then shook his head. I’m not even going to try.

The door opened with a silvery chiming sound from the bells set above it. The Cat Café was big for a restaurant, with round tables wide enough to seat entire families set throughout the main room. In spite of the restaurant’s size the crowd was relatively sparse, with only a few people seated at each table, conversing with each other over empty bowls. 

He smiled. She’s here.

His eyes moved to the back of the room, toward the kitchen area. There.

“Nihao!” 

Mousse started in surprise and turned his attention to the source of the voice. His breath caught in his throat. Before him stood a vision of beauty. Ankle-length hair the color of violets framed a smiling, heart-shaped face with eyes the color of dark wine that twinkled with mischief. A waitress’s apron covered her petite body, but couldn’t hide the curvaceous form that her pantsuit hugged in such a way that somehow left little and at the same time very much to the imagination. Everything about her screamed Amazon. The urge to reach out and snap her neck was almost overwhelming. 

“You okay, strange person?” she asked expectantly, still smiling. 

Fighting down the sudden need to kill the person standing in front of him, Mousse forced a smile. “I’m fine. May I see my table?”

The smile slid from his face when she nodded and giggled slightly in that same cheery fashion and turned around to show him a table. He watched her weave between the tables, every movement smooth and supple, much like he imagined her body would be under that apron. He desperately fought the urge to kill her then and there, to take her head between his hands and twist sharply, ripping it clean off. 

He took a deep breath. Why do I want to kill this one so badly?

“Here you are!” she announced, showing him a table in the middle of the room. “You want order now, yes?” 

Mousse forced the smile back on his face. “No, actually I came here to speak with Khu Lon. Is she here by chance?” 

The waitress looked confused. “You here to see great-grandmother? Why you want talk with her?” 

Mousse tensed up immediately upon hearing those words. Great-grandmother.

Using all of his will to keep the pleasant expression on his face from twisting into one of raging hatred, he instead cleared his throat and tried to speak. “Did you say great-grandmother? As in, she is your real great-grandmother or is that just what you call her because she is your elder?” 

Still looking confused, the waitress answered hesitantly. “Yes, great-grandmother Shampoo’s mother’s mother’s mother.” 

Suddenly all the rage that had flared up inside was gone, replaced by the icy cold he was familiar with. His smile turned just as chill. “That so?” 

The waitress backed away nervously at his sudden change in demeanor. “Um, I go get great-grandmother for you then, yes?” 

He nodded slowly, still smiling coldly at her. “Thank you.”

She didn’t waste any time bowing before hurrying her way back to the kitchen, casting nervous glances back at him and trying to move as quickly as possible without running. Mousse watched with a satisfied expression as she all but ran to the back room. It was gratifying to see he still had that effect on people. 

The satisfied expression faded into a thoughtful frown. Why do I want that girl dead so badly? It doesn’t make any sense. 

His frown deepened as he mulled over these thoughts. What was her name? Shampoo? Xian Pu? I don’t remember her from the village, but I’m sure she’s one of them. Who is she?

*** 

“Grandmother?”

Cologne ignored the voice for a moment and instead waited for the ramen she was cooking to finish. When it was done she expertly flipped the basket over into a bowl and tossed it to her right without even a glance. The bowl was almost a blur as it flew threw the air like a missile, but was caught easily by her granddaughter. 

“Deluxe ramen, order up,” Cologne declared, while starting on another order. She looked up. “Why are you back here, child?”

“There someone to see you, Grandmother,” Shampoo said with a slight tremor in her voice. 

Cologne narrowed her eyes. Her granddaughter stood there, obviously agitated, casting glances back toward the dining room and clutching her apron with her free hand in a white-knuckled grip. Her granddaughter, strongest warrior of her generation and future leader of the most powerful warriors in the world, was frightened. 

Cologne dropped the noodle basket and hopped on her staff until she was directly in front of her granddaughter. “What is the matter, Xian Pu?” She inquired in Chinese, but her granddaughter was staring back in the direction of the dining room. Cologne scowled. “Xian Pu!”

Shampoo started and almost dropped the bowl of ramen she was holding. She flushed and bowed her head. “Forgive me, Grandmother. I did not hear you,” she replied back in Chinese.

Cologne sighed. “You said I had a visitor. Well, who is it?”

Shampoo raised her head. “I don’t know, Grandmother. It was a boy. He was… I don’t know.” 

Cologne snorted, not quite believing a mere boy could inspire any sort of fear in her successor. “A boy is it? Well, what does he look like?” 

“He was… strangely dressed,” she said, and shivered slightly. “There was something about him that frightened me grandmother.” She paused, and got a faraway look in her eyes. “And yet, I don’t know, but he seems familiar to me…” 

Cologne frowned. It didn’t sound like anyone she knew. But knowing Nerima, it was probably some insanely powerful martial artist or demigod that has come here for Ranma. In that case, it wasn’t anything out of ordinary. Things would work out as they always do.

“He can wait,” she told her granddaughter. “Tell him that I’ll see him momentarily. But in the meantime there are more important things to do. Like taking that ramen to our customer before it gets cold.”

Shampoo nodded, calmed by her great-grandmother’s confidence, and walked quickly back out into the dining room. 

Cologne watched her leave before turning back to the oven. She shook her head. Imagine, a boy causing her granddaughter to worry. It was of no matter how intimidating his appearance may be, he was still a male, and underneath it all he was still inherently weak. 

With that, secure in her convictions, she nodded and started making the next order.

*** 

“What?” Mousse said, taking his headphones off. 

The waitress’s expression tightened. “I say Grandmother come visit you soon. Would you like order?” 

“No,” he replied, putting the headphones back on. He closed his eyes. “I’ll wait.” 

He felt her standing there for a moment longer, tense, as though she wanted to talk to him, before she finally left. He smiled. She was still afraid of him. Good. It will make that much more satisfying when he kills her. 

He opened his eyes and stared at the far wall. She was still there, oblivious to his presence. 

He smiled again. Time to make myself known.

***

Cologne almost dropped the basket she was holding. A sudden burst of chi, so strong even a normal person would be able to feel it, flared up in the dining room. And yet it was so finely controlled that she was certain she was the only one who noticed it.

She placed the basket on the counter. It seems our guest is getting impatient.

“Shampoo!” she called.

Shampoo appeared in the entrance. “Yes, Grandmother?” 

“I want you to go into the storeroom and count how much flour we still have.”

“But what about customers?”

“Take care of them first then.” 

Shampoo smiled brightly. “Ok, Grandmother. I do.” 

Cologne waited until Shampoo was inside the storeroom before moving to go out. Her great-granddaughter did not need to be involved in this. 

Cologne hopped on her staff to the entrance to the dining room and stopped. It was gone. Whoever had made that chi beacon had disappeared. She scanned the room carefully. Anyone who could spontaneously generate that much chi in such a short time and control it like that was someone to be wary of. Her eyes stopped on a figure seated at a table in the corner. 

All around her, every living thing was giving off an aura; herself, the customers, even the potted plants. But that figure was giving off nothing. It was as though nothing was there, just a void. If she couldn’t see him with her own eyes she would doubt he was even there. She would have to proceed even more carefully. If he had achieved such a high state of control that he could actually mask his chi, then that would make him much more dangerous than she first anticipated. 

She hopped on her staff until she was standing beside the boy. Her mouth twisted as she studied him. Children’s appearances these days were getting more and more eccentric, but this one outdid most of them. All black garb with a long coat with a hem that actually touched the floor, long hair with a number of small silver ornaments tied in a single lock of hair at his temple, and red-tinted spectacles over closed eyes. He was tapping gloved finger on the table to music she could hear coming from headphones over his ears. If she didn’t know this boy was so dangerous she would probably have told him to leave her restaurant. 

Cologne cleared her throat, trying to proceed carefully. It wouldn’t do to make him mad. She was confident she could defeat him, but she didn’t want her restaurant destroyed in the process. Her insurance is high enough as it is. 

She was about to clear her throat again when suddenly he raised his hand. He opened his eyes and turned his head to face her. Cologne frowned slightly. There was something in his eyes when he saw her, some intense emotion that was there and gone in an instant, to be replaced by an amiable smile. As he removed his headphones, she caught a brief part of the music he was listening to.

…left of me, jokers to the right, here I am, stuck in the middle with you…

He motioned for her to sit across from him, smiling all the while. Cologne warily hopped to the other end of the table, not taking her eyes off him. 

He was wearing a mask. Not a literal mask, but almost as good as one. He was still smiling, but that same unidentifiable emotion she caught earlier was back in his eyes, and getting more intense as he looked at her. 

The faced each other for a few moments, while one studied the other. Finally the boy spoke. 

“You don’t recognize me,” he said, with a hint of disappointment in his voice. 

“Should I?” replied Cologne. There was something definitely familiar about him, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

He sighed and shook his head, the ornaments in his hair tinkling as they moved. “I was hoping to get to you before senility did. I guess I was too late.”

Cologne’s eyes widened in shock and then narrowed dangerously. Her grip tightened on her staff. The audacity of this…male! Restaurant or no, this boy must be taught a…

The boy’s smile turned wicked. “Quack, quack.” 

Cologne went numb. Everything finally clicked in to place. It was him. He’s alive. 

His expression became even more malicious. “Don’t croak on me now, Ku Lon. I just got here.” 

“Mu Tzu,” she gasped. “You’re alive.” 

“You know I seem to get that a lot from your kind,” he said, putting an elbow on the table and leaning his head against his hand. 

“What… but how?” Cologne started, and then stopped. Gather your wits, Elder! You must not show weakness, especially to him.

Cologne took a deep breath. “I see you’re still alive. How?” 

Mousse sat up and nodded in approval and the Elder’s quick recovery. “Good, good. Maybe you’re not as weak as I thought you were. You didn’t really think I was just simply going to die after I escaped, did you?” 

Cologne frowned at his remark, but restrained herself. “No, I suppose not, but there was always that hope.”

Mousse nodded and yawned, as though bored. “You know what I want Cologne. And you know you can’t stop me.”

Cologne barked a laugh. “You sorely overestimate your own strength, whelp. You cannot possibly hope to stand against four thousand years of Amazon…”

“Two thousand years,” he interrupted, his face the very picture of boredom.

“What?” Cologne choked.

“The Chinese Amazon culture is two thousand years old,” he said casually, finding more interest in examining the back of his hand than the conversation. “I did some research on the subject. It was brought to China by Alexander the Great when his armies were about to march on India. The last remnants of the Greek Amazons tagged along on his conquests and instead of going home, broke off to settle in China. So spare me your propaganda, please.” 

Cologne was almost shaking she was so enraged. “You lie, boy! The Amazons are…” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Mousse said, casually flicking the silver ornaments tied in his hair with a thumb. His gaze suddenly turned sharp as he looked at her. He smiled. “Regardless, I think I did pretty well against your ‘four thousand years’ of history…” 

Cologne stopped in midsentence, suddenly suspicious. What did he mean by that?

She narrowed her eyes, and suddenly gasped, her countenance turning pale. Oh ancestors…he couldn’t have…

His smile turned into a grin, the ornaments in his hair ringing as he flicked them. 

She ignored his expression as she hurriedly counted the Elder symbols tied in the boy’s hair. One… two… three…four…oh no.

“Oh yes,” he said, answering the thought she unconsciously whispered. “They’re all dead. All except you.” 

He cocked his head to the side while staring at her, any trace of a smile gone from his face. She could feel his eyes burning into her. 

“Do you know what it was like in the dark?” he whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear. “Do you know what it was like? No sound, no light, nothing but your thoughts and the feel of your own heartbeat. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t see, I couldn’t hear.”

He leaned forward until his face was almost touching hers, staring into her eyes with frightening intensity. 

“Do you know what happens when you’re in the dark for too long?” he said softly. “Your mind has nothing to feed on, so it feeds on itself. You begin seeing things, or hearing voices. There were even times when I was sure something was in there with me.” 

Cologne was paralyzed with fear and shock, and could only stare as he leaned even closer.

“Did you hear my screams?” he asked. “I know you did. What were they like? Did you enjoy them? Did they pain you? Did you care at all?” 

Mousse slowly raised a gloved hand and pulled down the high collar covering his throat.

“I still bear the scar you gave me,” he said, revealing the ugly mark that ran around his throat. He ran a finger across it. “Perhaps I’ll return the favor.”

He stared at her a moment longer, while she could only gape at him. “Would you like to know how they died?”

Cologne finally snapped out of her trance-like state. “What?” 

“I asked if you would like to know how your sisters died,” he replied, leaning back in his chair, a bored look on his face again. 

Cologne stared at him. All the intensity, the hate, she saw a moment ago was gone in an instant, replaced by a sort of detached boredom. She looked around to see the entire restaurant was empty, half-finished bowls of ramen still on the table. It seems the people of Nerima had a keen sense for impending danger.

Mousse stood up. “Well, if you don’t feel like hearing about it now, I’ll just tell you later then.”

He leaned forward over the table. He smirked. “By the way, your granddaughter is very pretty.” 

Cologne immediately shot up on her staff in alarm. He knows! How did he find out?

“Don’t you dare touch her,” she snarled. 

Mousse backed up, hands held up defensively but still smirking. “Whoa now, calm yourself. I wouldn’t dream of doing anything to your granddaughter. Well, unless she wanted me to…” 

Cologne hopped forward menacingly on her staff. 

“…and if she did, well then…,” he continued. His eyes glinted. “You get the idea.” 

Cologne was prepared to strike at the boy then and there when a familiar voice called out. 

“Yo! Anyone here, I’m starving!” 

Ranma Saotome walked through the doors to the Cat Café, and stopped when he saw Cologne facing off against a stranger in weird clothing. It could be another one of those insanely powerful martial artists looking for him. 

“Uh, maybe I’d better come back later,” he said, backing out. He was almost out when Shampoo spotted him. 

“Ai len!”

Mousse and Cologne both stopped as Shampoo flew across the room to grip Ranma in a very painful looking hug.

“Ranma come for Shampoo to cook too too delicious ramen, yes?” she asked. 

Mousse looked from where the newcomer was being held in a deathgrip by the waitress to Cologne and smiled slowly. 

Cologne, catching on to what he was thinking, shook her head. “No, don’t. The boy is not involved and neither is my granddaughter. Leave them be.” 

Instead of answering, Mousse walked forward until he was standing behind the other boy. 

“Excuse me,” he said.

Shampoo had dropped Ranma as soon as Mousse approached and stepped back slightly. Ranma turned around to face the stranger, unsure of Cologne’s and Shampoo’s reactions toward him.

“Uh, hi,” he said warily.

“You’re Ranma? Ranma Saotome?” Mousse asked. 

The expression on Ranma’s face grew even warier. “Yeah that’s me. Who’s askin’?”

Mousse studied the boy in front of him for a moment. This was the Ranma Saotome he’d heard so much about. He was a powerful fighter, he could tell simply by feeling the chi flowing from him. He had a lot of potential. Mousse looked closer. He could see the resemblance between Ranma and his mother. She was right about him. 

Mousse stuck out his hand. “My name’s Mousse. Nice to meet you.” 

Ranma blinked in surprise and then grinned in relief. He reached out with his own hand.

“Nice to meet you too, Mousse,” he said, shaking his hand vigorously. He laughed. “You know, for a moment there I thought you might have come here looking for me.”

Mousse smiled and nodded. “Well, I’ve never heard of you until I arrived here.”

“Really?” Ranma replied. “Well, don’t believe everything you hear around here. People tend to exaggerate.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mousse said. “Well, I must be leaving now, I have a prior engagement. See you later. Xian Pu, Ku Lon.”

Cologne stared at Mousse until he was gone from view. She cursed silently. If her daughter hadn’t arrived when she did she might have been able to take him down. She looked over to where Shampoo was now her normal bubbly self and hanging all over Ranma. Shampoo must be kept from Mousse. The danger she is in now from the boy is enough. But if he were to remember…

Cologne winced as she felt a twinge of guilt. Perhaps the Elders had been wrong in doing what they did. Perhaps she was wrong in doing what she did. 

No use crying over spilled milk, she thought. I must make the best of this no matter how it turns out.

***  

Mousse thought to himself as he strolled down the sidewalk. Ranma is that girl’s fiancée. Poor bastard probably defeated her a while back. 

He stopped and smiled as a plan began to form in his mind. There could be something to this.

To be Continued…