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ATA 3; To current
Topic Started: May 7 2009, 12:56 PM (25,417 Views)
Ozzallos
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Swear I'm not trying to deluge this board in my fiction; Just setting up shop on active fics as promised. ATA 3 all the way to current. Standard disclaimers apply; This work is still in progress, rough and vaguely edited. As for the wonky spacing, not sure how those cropped up, but undoubtedly a product of google docs.

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

"Send me back," Ranma demanded, propping himself up upon the bed that had been his residence for the last three days. Of course, most of that residence had been of the unconscious sort but now he was awake and looking for answers.



"No."



Blue eyes narrow on Setsuna, glinting with ice and completely without compromise. "Why not?"



"I can't..." Setsuna shook her head and a subtle change of posture overtook her frame. The wounds had been opened once more with the martial artist's trip to the past and she felt fatigue... fifteen thousand years worth of it; and the temptation sang to her like a siren. "No... Rather, I won't."



“Why. Not.”



It wasn’t even a question this time; closer to a threat, Setsuna noted silently. Almost amusing considering the person who had issued it was bedridden and was barely able to walk. Almost, she knew. The Queen didn’t anoint guardians on a whim, and that was impressive enough. That, and his position was an easy one to rationalize. Seductively easy, Setsuna knew from experience. After all, what was to stop them from taking a jaunt back to past? Kill some youma, assassinate Beryl and have some tea with the Queen afterward, right? The Silver Millennium would continue in all its glory with no one the wiser. Friends would live, family restored…



…Save the fact that that such an action had the very real possibility of instigating a critical temporal paradox, destroying reality as mankind knew it. Or maybe that she would be wiping out countless other billions that had survived and thrived after the Fall. Surely they had an equal right to life? Even her Queen’s direct orders to not interfere paled in comparison to those facts when it was all said and done, but there was still a single overriding reason that prevent her from stepping into the past to right those wrongs…



Hitsuzen.



And now she had to explain to another soul why they could never, ever step foot into the past to change the here and now. The Guardian of Time took a deep breath and prepared to open some old, old wounds.



“Sixteen thousand years ago,” The emerald haired woman found a plush stitch chair next to the bed and settled in for the long haul. “Three sisters were borne amid an era of chaos and strife. War raged around them and people died. Family… Friends… Yet somehow they came through it unscathed, even as their loved ones died around them and the chaos continued.”



The young man in the bed next to her looked as if he were ready to argue the relevance of her tale, but held his tongue as she continued. “During those days, there was no authority, no centralized government to keep the peace. Just leaders were rare and even those that managed to survive the other warlords would make little headway; ultimately becoming too busy watching their own backs and defending their own star systems to make any contribution toward a lasting peace.”



“A dire time,” The guardian shook her head with what Ranma interpreted as first hand reminiscence, as impossible as the fact seemed. Of course, everything about the last few days fell under that header, so the martial artist remained silent, allowing her to continue.



“Yet the sisters survived, due in no small part to their exceptional gifts. One possessed unparalleled magical potential, the other an affinity for time. The last sister could influence the very strands of fate itself and the three together took it upon themselves to set things right. With these three tools at their disposal, they altered the very destiny of this galaxy, moving it from a machine of violence to one of peace and prosperity. It was this radical, unnatural shift that gave rise to the Silver Millennium.”



A small, bitter smile found its way to her face. “It was also an arrogance that may have been overlooked, save the fact that their project was much more ambitious in nature. They didn’t seek to simply predestine those events alone… No, they sought to alter those of everywhere and everywhen. The Silver Millennium would exist in every reality they could touch and they succeed with disastrous consequences.”



Ranma’s eyes had lost their edge of disbelief now, completely engrossed in the events long since passed to dust. “And you were…?”



“Yes, I was.” Setsuna sighed. “And moreover, we had warning. Our sister, the one tied to fate itself, could feel it… feel the retribution coming. As I have been reminded recently, Hitsuzen does not like to be toyed with and would regain its balance by whatever means necessary. She tried to warn us, but we knew better. We had come so far and it was unfathomable that something could come along and destroy the peace we had worked so hard for…”



“The invasion.”



“The invasion.” She confirmed, letting her head roll back to stare at the ceiling without actually seeing anything. “Hitsuzen brought itself back into alignment, but the cost was catastrophically high. And like our own meddling, that balance was exact everywhere and everywhen we had touched…” A single tear rolled Setsuna’s cheek. “Billions died that day- in this reality alone –to bring Hitsuzen back into balance.”



“Shit…” Ranma whispered, fully aware of how completely inadequate the revelation was in light of recent events.



“And thus the reason why I have not already done what you now desire to do now,” The Princess of Pluto pulled her head back from its vertical orientation, wiping away the single tear. “To defy Hitsuzen its balance further…” She shook her head. “I will not... I dare not do so, nor can I allow you to so in my stead.”



“Then why the hell did you send me back in the first place!?” Ranma exploded after a moment of silent contemplation, bolting upright with renewed purpose. “I had her! I was about to shove a tornado of ice up that bitch’s ass!”



“How you actually escaped the temporal bubble is honestly beyond me,” She shook her head, feeling the teen’s anger as if it were her own. “Your expedition to the past should have taken no more than twenty minutes subjectively. You were never supposed to talk to anybody.”



“Yeah, well, I talked to a lot of people,” Ranma returned testily. “And aren’t you supposed to be dead?”



“I’m surprised that wasn’t your first question, actually,” Setsuna chuckled mirthlessly, leaving the chair and angling for the doorway. “I need a drink.”



The pigtailed boy watched with an arched eyebrow as the green haired Senshi depart the room, only to return minutes later with a decanter full of potent looking brown fluid and two smaller crystal glasses. She set the crystal trio on the nightstand next to Ranma's head and pulled the rosebud stopper from the container, setting it aside. One glass was poured, then the other and Setsuna push the second his way.



"To lost friends." She raised the glass somberly, stared at if for a moment before pulling it back, downing the entire quarter of liquid in a single breath.



Ranma held the woman with widened eyes but shrugged. He hadn't been back in the past for more than two days, nor did he usually indulge in alcohol, but he had made friends and it was a sentiment that he could whole heartedly agree with.



"Lost friends." He agreed, raising the glass and tipping it back in kind. He barely drained half the glass before the beverage began to strip his throat of flesh, forcing him to desperately keep the coughing fit within to save face.



If Setsuna found the scene even remotely amusing, if failed to reflect in her face or body language as she poured herself another glass. She stared at it in silent contemplation for another minute before beginning anew. “I am alive simply because that was not me.”



“Not you.” Ranma stared levelly at her and the green haired shrugged it off with another drink.



“Correct.” She confirmed. “I won’t bore you with the mechanism behind it, but suffice to say this isn’t my Earth, so what happened to her doesn’t affect me from a causality standpoint.”



“So there are… were… two of you?” Ranma squinted, attempting work the logic out himself with the limited theory at his disposal. The martial artist shook his head and pushed the bed’s covers off, testing his left arm with a flex.



“Effectively, yes,” She nodded, somewhat pleased that he was grasping the rudimentary.



“And where you’re from…” Ranma continued to wade through the treacherous waters of temporal mechanics tepidly. “…did it go as bad as it did here?”



“Almost,” She admitted with little emotion. “On my Earth, the Silver Millennium still fell, but my Queen had enough left after sealing Beryl to reincarnate the Senshi in the here and now to protect the last remnant of humanity in the present.”



“Then what happened…” A key fact in her explanation clicked, and Ranma’s focus narrow sharply. “Wait. Sealed?”



“Queen Serenity opted to spare Beryl where I’m from,” The Princess of Pluto detailed softly, sipping her drink. Ranma was out of bed now, testing his range of motion. He felt a bit weak, but otherwise okay. “I’d like to think it was in the hopes of her redemption… Sadly, that hope was intrinsically flawed. Beryl had let too much of her soul slip into the abyss, and she escaped later to challenge the Queen’s daughter—“



“Moon Serenity,” Ranma supplied, clearly remembering the girl she had the honor to fight alongside.



“Correct…” Setsuna stated with the slightest edge of awe. It was literally the first time in over fifteen millennia that she had heard the name spoken aloud by anybody other than herself.



“Cuz, that’s really weird,” Ranma had stopped any self assessment, concentrating on the matter fully. “Last I checked, we were about ready to hand that woman’s ass to her.”



“I… She…” Setuna Meiou lapsed into a confused silence, staring at the unlikely guardian. Finally, she was able to rationalize her thoughts coherently and for the first time since his awakening, smiled thoughtfully. She set her drink aside and took Ranma’s hand gently. “For being there for her… Thank you.”



With that, Setsuna turned away, leaving Ranma alone in the room and closing the door behind her.



“England?!”



“London, to be exact,” Setsuna barely suppressed the smile that threatened to break out upon detailing the news. “Your trip to the past changed things, for the better and for worse.”



“Woulda done even better if you had let me stay five seconds more.” Ranma Saotome stared at the emerald haired woman who lounged back in the comfort of a curved black leather seat. The light jingle of Champaign glasses filled the air of their spacious compartment while sunlight attempted to pierce the vehicle’s dark tinting with limited success.



She was driving him to the dojo in a limo. A goddamn limo.



“And in doing so more than likely instigated a catastrophe magnitudes worse than the fall itself,” She inserted patiently, clearly recognizing just how fresh his wounds were. “Think of it this way… Let’s say you did the job and killed Beryl. What would have happened?”



Ranma leaned forward on the edge of his leather seat opposite of Setsuna, considering the question. “Well… She wouldn’t be around to cause trouble, I guess.”



“Exactly,” The Guardian confirmed. “She would have died, her soul consumed and the infernal army with her. The Queen would not have had to resort to her final attack, or in my case, the sealing. It would be safe to assume she could have recovered the survivors on Earth and rebuilt anew.”



“So what’s wrong with that?” Ranma shrugged, not seeing anything bad in the logical progression of events.



“Well, you probably would cease to exist, for one,” Setsuna began to tick the points off on her hand, causing Ranma to blink. “Secondly, everybody on the earth at this very moment would suffer the same fate. After all, the events leading to the birth of their parents and ancestors didn’t transpire.”



“But—“



“Oh, sure, statistically speaking you would have a straggler here and there, but even then, they wouldn’t be the same person up here,” She tapped her own forehead to emphasis the point. “And that’s not even taking into account how Hitsuzen may balance itself out after the fact.”



“Maybe,” The pigtailed teen admitted grudgingly. “But what’s this all have to do with England?”



“As I mentioned, your visit still changed a few things,” She continued, gazing out the closest tinted window and out into the traffic passing beyond. “And England has become a nexus of activity for those changes.”



“Figures,” The martial artists huffed. “You realize I’m gonna catch all sorts of hell for this, right?”



“Would your decision change?”



“Nah,” The answer wasn’t even a question in Ranma’s eyes. “I’ll just tell ‘em it’s a training trip or something.”



The woman turned back to face him, nodding. “Please keep our destination in the strictest of confidence. The threats we may encounter could very well rival those you encountered during the Fall. I have little doubt in your abilities, especially given your Guardianship by the Queen herself, but the interference of amateurs is the last thing we need at this juncture.”



“Got plenty of those in my life,” Ranma chuckled, eliciting a slight smile from Setsuna.



“Indeed,” The limousine rocked slightly as its mass rounded a corner and rolled to a stop. Ranma instantly recognized the gate of the Tendo Dojo from his vantage point. “I’ll send the limo by at around midnight tonight. From there, we’ll take JAL first class to London, Heathrow where we’ll investigate the leads I’ve managed to acquire. Pack light.”



As if the limo wasn’t enough, Ranma snorted mentally as he considered her travel arrangements. While he only had the vaguest of notions of what first class entailed, he knew if couldn’t be cheap. The left door clicked open, piercing their spacious compartment with a beam of pure white light. Beyond that, their friendly chauffeur waited patiently for his departure.



Ranma gave the woman a final nod before stepping out onto the day lit sidewalk and stretched. The door shut behind him and the long car drove off, leaving him alone at the foot of the dojo gates.



“Nice ride, Saotome.”



Ranma froze, knowing the characteristic drawl of the female speaker’s voice instantly. Her turned to his right and confirmed the last person he really wanted to see watch him step out of a limousine.


Nabiki Tendo.







“Nothing at the bridge, either,” Nora reported evenly, keeping astride Nabiki’s pace as the senior jotted down notes into a little brown book. “It’s like he’s dropped off the face of the Earth, sempai.”



“With Saotome, I almost wouldn’t doubt it,” The middle Tendo rolled her eyes as the two continued to walk down the sidewalk discussing business. Today was day three and there was still no sign of the martial artist since his “interview” with the woman claiming to be a professor at Tokyo University. “How about this supposed teacher?”



“Seiya says she checks out,” the black haired girl next to her replied. “Fully accredited history professor for the last four years, lives in lower Juuban, single.”



“Bullshit,” Nabiki shook her head, scratching something out of the notebook. “If she’s a history professor, I’m engaged to Kuno. Computer records, right?”



“Yep.”



Nabiki nodded as they turned onto the next street, gaining sight of the dojo gates of her family’s namesake. “Get somebody on campus who actually attends class. See if they’ve ever heard of this woman.”



“I’ll get Yumi on it,” Nora nodded, the pair crossing the street. Even as they did so, a jet black limo rounded the corner opposite of their position, pulling up to a smooth stop next to the dojo gates.

“Expecting company, Boss?” The girl asked with an appreciative glance as the driver’s side door opened and the chauffeur exited the vehicle. Both girls had stopped, watching while the driver circled around the front and opened the passenger door. “Kuno, maybe?”



“Doesn’t look like one of his,” Nabiki shook her head, waiting to for the passenger to depart. That, and it would be the Sasuke playing chauffer, she added mentally. They didn’t have long to wait either way as the black haired occupant stepped out of the blacked out limousine into daylight.



Nora cheek twitched, her voice elevating to a wheezing hiss. “Sa…Sa… Saotome?!”



“Oh, I can’t wait to hear this one,” Nabiki’s face manifested a predatory grin, then turned to her subordinate. “You know what to do.”



“Already on it.” The black haired girl’s head bobbed, leaving the middle Tendo to walk across the street and wait for the martial artist to notice her. The limo drove off and Nabiki smiled.



“Nice ride, Saotome.”



“Nabiki,” he returned warily upon finding the person he least want to see at the moment. His blue eyes darted from her person to the girl walking down the street in the opposite direction. His face turned bland. “How long do I got?”



“About as long as it takes for her to find the nearest payphone.“ Nabiki probed, leading the martial artist through the property gate and along the stone path to the household’s front door. “So, three days, Saotome, anything you should tell me?”



“Nothin’ you won’t be finding out with everybody else in a minute,” Ranma returned dryly, following the middle Tendo into the house. The comment incited the sister to chuckle.



“But it’s so much more fun to—“



“BOY!” Genma Saotome lurched into the hallway, nearly plowing over Nabiki in order to grab his son and shake him furiously. “Where the hell have you been!?”



The rest of the family was now gathered around, watching as Ranma extricate himself from his father’s throttling with a deft elbow to the top of his, sending him hard to the floor.



“Oh my,” Kasumi tilted her head, watching the violence play out as if it were a fact of life. Sadly, it was. “We were beginning to wonder if you had eloped with that nice history teacher.”



“ELOPED?!” Akane yelped, an angry red aura fueled by assumption snapping into place. Nor was she the only one. Even as she took her step forward, Soun’s own aura had twisted into a horrid visage, towing over the martial artist.



“RANMA, HOW COULD—!”



His rant was cut off- sliced off, as a matter of fact –as a null pressure blade carved through the demonic visage and into the roof with a lethal hiss. Soun Tendo froze instantly, recognizing the technique clearly. Akane was till moving forward with her fist, only to have her wrist caught, twisted and rotated 180’, flipping her hard to the ground.



A meter’s length of sunlight now shown overhead, a thin line that light that opened out into sky and crossing across the Tendo patriarch’s forehead like a dividing razor.



Nor was the symbolism lost on anybody else, who had likewise frozen. Even Nabiki stared down at the martial artist, who held his crouch and the knife edge of his hand off to the right. His eyes… So… She couldn’t remember the last time he had taken to physical violence toward any member of the family, let alone Akane and Daddy. His own father, sure, but the fat panda was fair game. And the attack! It wasn’t the standard Saotome beat down.



“Eh, sorry ‘bout that…” Ranma blinked and the business end of martial artist’s personality faded away like water. Akane lay off to the side, flat on her back and completely unmoving as she stared at the line carved into the ceiling above her. He favored the family with an apologetic look. “…been a rough couple of days.”



“I’ll put it on your tab, Saotome,” Nabiki shrugged indifferently, pulling the stunned younger sister up. The fact that he had even flipped Akane to the ground was nearly unprecedented, let alone nearly decapitated their father. All in all, indifference was definitely not something she was feeling at the moment.



“Uh, yeah,” Ranma nodded passively, extracting himself from the group slowly by walking around the still frozen Soun Tendo and back toward the guest room. “But later. Gotta pack.”



“Pack?!” Akane blurted, now upright and staring at her part-time fiancé. “You just got back!”



“Yeah, what’s going on, Saotome?”



“And if I hear the word fiancée, I’m going to beat you first, then your moron father,” The family turned, finding Ukyo in the door, hefting her combat spatula. The look on her face indicated that her words were a joke… Mostly.



“Stupid Panda need too-too good beat down for so many engagements,” Shampoo quipped from behind her, flashing Genma her own look that promised less joking and more violence should more fiancées come to pass. The man squirmed under her gaze.



“Look, it’s… a training mission. Leaving tomorrow.” Smiles bloomed on two of the three fiancées present, the remaining one staring him down with thinly veiled suspicion.



Nor was Akane alone. Nabiki scrutinized the pigtailed boy’s features, but hers suspicion was not born out of natural distrust for gender changing martial artists with a propensity for inadvertently collecting woman as fiancées like one would collect coins or butterflies. No, Nabiki was a business woman, and Ranma Saotome was a large amount of her business these days. There had been just a little too much hesitation in his explanation to take at face value and she resolved to watch him more closely even as she collected her fee from the fiancées present.



Genma was the other party not buying his son’s ‘training mission’, and not simply for the fact that Ranma couldn’t lie worth a damn. The boy had used a vacuum blade on his old friend and while Ranma could have been accused of many things, lethal excess was not one of them. Three days, the Saotome mused, studying his son covertly. Something had happened in those three days, and it wasn’t likely a fiancée.



Or at least he didn’t think it had been.



One couldn’t be too careful.



“Well, you’ll definitely need somebody to cook for you,” Ukyo effused smugly, ensuring her place on the training mission. Shampoo’s head whipped around on the black haired Okonomiyaki artist, taking issue with the statement.



“Is no need pizza girl go!” The purple haired Amazon leaned into the girl’s face, eyes flashing with challenge. “Needs fiancée who cook and fight good.”



Nabiki rolled her eyes. The result was just too predictable.



“You saying I can’t fight, Sugar?” The pair was nose to nose now, a bright blue and purple spark dancing between the space of their foreheads.



“Hey! I’m a good cook too!” Akane blistered at the unintended slight of being excluded and both girls looked at the youngest Tendo condescendingly. Akane snarled. “I’ll prove it! I’m going along too!”



“Oh hohohohohohooo!” A new girl bounced into the doorway, black rose peddles dancing in the wind around her. All eyes turned to the leotard clad girl. “You peasants are not worthy to cook for my Ranma-sama!”



Ranma let out a sigh from the back of the group, turning away from the growing horde of fiancées unnoticed. He turned to Kasumi with tired look. “When they’re done, tell ‘em I’m going alone. Be in the room packing.”



The eldest Tendo nodded with an oblivious smile, turning away from the growing commotion in the doorway as well, leaving Genma and Soun to watch the boy’s retreat. Soun was the first to finally speak.



“Genma, old friend… that technique…”



“I know, buddy, I know…” the bespeckled man adjusted his glasses, watching Ranma turn the corner to the guestroom and out of sight. “I’ll have a word with the boy.”





Tomorrow.



That’s the day he had told them. Ranma shoved another set of tangs into his backpack, then pulled the rolled up tent out of the closet to inspect its condition. Something crashed down stairs and the martial artist winced with the secondaries. That was why he had told them tomorrow… And why he was secretly leaving tonight. He didn’t like lying to them, but he’d probably never get out the door; at least not without the entire circus following him all the way to England.



Last thing I need is for them to walk into that shit-storm’s fall out, he groused, absently noting the aged tent canvas was on its last leg, but still had a few days of life in it. He shoved the would be shelter into the backpack as well, continuing down his mental checklist of supplies and necessities. Can pick up food on the way out… canteen…



“Boy.”



Ranma turned to the voice of his father with an arched eyebrow. There was little doubt in his mind as to what the topic was going to be so, he preempted the balding martial artist. “Save it Pop. Nobody’s goin’ along on this one, not even you.”



He found another silk shirt and began to fold it, studiously ignoring the old man staring at him from the guest room doorway. Genma remained there watching silently. After another minute, Ranma turned back to him.



“I said ya ain’t goin’, so take a hike.” The staring continued, now accompanied by a serious visage. Finally, Ranma put the pack aside. “Alright, fine. I’ll beat the notion out of you it that’s what ya want.”



Ranma stared at his father, who stared back unperturbed. Another full minute passed of complete inactivity before Genma nodded, stepping into the room fully. “Were you planning on telling your mother?”



Ranma blinked. Where was the outrage? The scheming? Operation Marry Akane or die? Was this all another elaborate ruse to knock him off his guard? “Yeah…” the pigtailed boy continued hesitantly. “…Yeah I was.”



“Good,” Genma nodded, walking past Ranma. He glanced at the pack momentarily, then gazed out the window. “She’ll worry less that way.”



“Uh, sure…” Ranma was completely befuddled now. If this was part of some master plan, it was on a higher order than his old man had demonstrated to date. “Needed to pick up a few things anyway.”



“A little advice,” Genma continued to stare out the window, then turned on him with the ever so slightest of smiles. “If she objects to not toting the girls along, just tell her that your training mission of manly importance.”



“Manly… importance?”



“She’ll go along with anything you say.” Genma nodded and walked back to the doorway, affecting a stretch. “Weather’s supposed to be nice tonight,” he mentioned in a wistful, self absorbed tone. “I’ll probably sleep pretty soundly tonight.”



With that, the Saotome patriarch was gone, leaving a stunned Ranma blinking in his wake. His old man had just given him a pass?

-----------



Half an hour later, Ranma Saotome walked down the street with an entourage that would have left most men a jealous, drooling puddle of hormonal goo. Bouncing along side him was the perky and occasionally homicidal Amazon known as Shampoo. While known to use various hair care products in battle, she was not one herself in spite of her namesake. She was, however, a bombshell and the colorful, generally tight fitting silks she wore regularly caused no small amount of envy among the male populous of Nerima as she passed by.



Beside the Chinese hottie and consequently vying for the martial artists attention was Ukyo Kounji. Unlike Shampoo, she was not a product of China and was every bit the consummate chef, if not more-so. A smallish okanomyaki danced in her hand as she attempted to ply it to her fiancé while her blue on white obi and dark blue leg warmer tights left nothing to the imagination in terms of physic. Had the innocent male bystanders thoughts become manifest, Ranma would have been rendered lifeless on the spot as they took his place. In fact, his body would have been found impaled by numerous blunt objects, all rusty and sure to have induced great pain before his death.



Leaping to a fro around the group was a sight that would have inspired no small amount of fear in lust in these anonymous male pedestrians. To some, that was a bonus. A ribbon certain to ensnare the martial artist twirled behind her as she danced happily, at times wrapping around her well toned physic and her sole garment of clothing; a skin tight leotard.



Akane and Nabiki Tendo brought up the rear of the group. Neither were quite as animate as the trio in front of them, though that reflected little on their own considerable physical attributes. Nabiki herself favored tighter clothing. She had a body and knew how to use it, carrying herself with calm, cool indifference as she watched the commotion play out before her. She herself wasn’t a Saotome fan per se, but he was an investment and she kept track of her investments. Akane watched the commotion from the other end of the of the spectrum, boiling with malcontent that gave her a hot, fierce beauty if one could overlook the potential outbreak of imminent violence.



Many men would have died to be in the martial artist’s position.



Those men didn’t have a clue.



“Why you’re all taggin’ along is beyond me,” Ranma shook his head, eyeing the energetic females around him warily as they proceeded through the prefecture. The attention they were gathering was becoming disconcerting. “It’s just my Mom’s house.”



“I’m just making sure the Amazon bimbo there doesn’t take advantage of you, Ranchan,” Ukyo smiled sweetly before shooting a glare over to Shamppo, who in turn wrapped around Ranma’s arm possessively.



“Is spatula girl who take advantage,” Shampoo retorted, turning her nose up at Ukyo. “Beside. How good is girl who can only cook one thing?”



“Whatever, noodle—“



WhipSNAP!



“Ow!”

“OW!”



Shampoos hand now glowed a rosy red and Ranma favored his stinging elbow as Kodachi favored the Amazon with unflinching superiority. “You shall refrain from pawing my Ranma-sama, low born vagrant.”



The trio stopped on the sidewalk to stare one another down as Ranma kept walking. Nabiki and Akane likewise walked around the group, catching up to the Saotome.



“Honestly, why do you keep stringing them along?” Akane grumped, keeping pace with the martial artist while Nabiki tag teamed, fishing for information.



“And what’s so important at your Mom’s house, anyway?” She leered, sure she smelled blood in the water… The only question was where.



“Just picking up some food and stuff for tomorrow’s trip,” Ranma answered nonchalantly. Too nonchalantly for Nabiki’s tastes, so she dug.



“Food and stuff, hmm?” She remarked innocently. “How long will this training mission last?”



For the first time, Ranma turned his full attention on the girl, his usually immersive blue eyes having cooled several degrees.



“As long as it takes.”



Nabiki nearly stumbled with the point blank delivery, sending her mind awhirl as she considered the implications of his body language and tone. Something serious was going down, but what? Saotome finally grew a spine and made his own choice of fiancée? The Tendo glanced back at the squabbling trio in their wake who were only now realizing they had been left behind. Not any of them, that’s for sure. The teacher? Saotome doesn’t move that fast. Something else then. Perhaps it really was a training mission, yet something about the pretext was entirely too serious…



“Ran-chan, wait!”

“Aiyah, Airen get away!”

“Ranmaaa-samaaaa!”



So much for pressing him for more information, she decided as the fiancées closed back in on the martial artist. Not that it would matter. They’d be at his mother’s house in five minutes anyway and their conversation was sure to be quite enlightening.



Inane fiancée chatter filled that five minutes as the girls took their own turns plying the martial artist for more information on the trip with about as much success, following him all the way to the house door where his mother greeted them all with a maternal smile.



“Come in Ranma! And your friends too!” She smiled knowingly at him and the girls. Nodoka stepped aside and her son stepped in closing the door immedietly behind him even as the girls were taking their steps to follow in his footsteps. Protests immediately sounded through the closed door. The Saotome matriarch blinked, staring at the door, then him. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather invite have those lovely ladies inside?”



“Nah,” Ranma shrugged, stepping out of the hallway. “Just coming by to pick up a few things for a training mission tomorrow.”



His mother considered him thoughtfully, then nodded. “Of course. I’m sure I can make some sandwiches for you.” Ranma followed her into the kitchen where she began to pull a loaf of bread from a side cabinet. “So is there anybody else going along on your training mission?”



A female somebody, right? Ranma sighed mentally, but stayed the course. “Nope, just me.”



“Oh, I’m sure one of those lovely girls would be quite willing to help along the way,” The admission didn’t phase his mother one bit. “Especially Akane. Of course, that nice okananomiyaki girl would—“



“Alone, Mom,” Ranma shook his head, deciding to fall back on his father’s advice. “It’s of manly importance.”



Nodoka stilled suddenly, as if considering the onion she had just been about to slice. The moment passed and she turned back Ranma with a gentle smile. “Of course it is. The girls will just have to be patient then.”



Just like that? Ranma fought to keep the shock from his face. Old man had actually steered him in the right direction for once? Almost too easy…



“How many do you think you’ll need, Son?”



“How many… Oh,” he realized she had been refereeing to one of the assembled sandwiches on the cutting board in front of her. “Uh, not sure. Might be gone a little bit.”



“I see,” She commented amiably, starting another. “Not ten years, I hope.”



The question caught him off guard and he couldn’t help but to chuckle. “Not a chance.”



“Good,” She replied, amusement clearly evident in her voice now. “I don’t think I would approve of those antics a second time.”



“Heh,” Ranma snorted. As nice as it was to have a normal conversation with his mother, there was one final point to address. “Um, Mom… Need a favor…”



“Of course, son,” She continued with her sandwich assembly, petitioning her attention between it and the request.



“Mom…” Ranma took a deep breath. Here we go… “I need the katana.”



Nodoka stilled one more. This time she turned back to him with a completely serious expression.



“So… that kind of training mission.”



Ranma was captivated by her knowing gaze and in that moment he knew there was no hope in hiding behind the pretext of training any longer. “Yeah… Yeah it is.”



“I see.” She abandoned the knife to cutting board and walked out of the kitchen for the living room, finding the sheathed blade handing from a pair of simple dark stained wall mounts. She lifted the brown sheathed blade away, examining it and the blue wrapped hilt thoughtfully. “It has been in our family for six generations, the work of a master.” She smiled, handing it to Ranma. “And I’m proud that I may finally relinquish it to my manly son.”



“Thanks… Thanks Mom.” Ranma replied solemnly, taking the blade from her hand. It wasn’t the fanciest blade he had ever laid eyes on, but he could tell by the construction and heft alone that his mother was right and it would serve him well. “I wish I could tell you…”



“Hush,” She shushed him absently. “Whatever it is, I’m sure that it is quite manly and you will tell your mother all about it upon your return.”



Ranma stared at the woman as she transited back to the kitchen, as if seeing her for the first time while outside, each girl had their own piece of the Saotome property staked out as they independently strained to eavesdrop on the Mother and Son; spinning their own plans in order to secure their place on a training mission that was sounding less and less like one with each passing moment.







At eleven fifteen PM, a pair of blue eyes snapped open. At first their owner didn’t move, opting to get a feel for the environment around him first before committing to action. His aura flashed out subtly like radar, sensing his immediate area.



Shampoo, Ukyo or Kodachi on the roof, Ranma surmised as he tasted the female ki floating away lazily overhead. Probably asleep like Akane in the room upstairs. Another aura whispered to him, this one below and centered near the house hold’s living room. Male… Sasuke? Would leave Shampoo or Ukyo on the roof then…



Next to him, the Panda snored loudly, all but assuring the martial artist that his father was dead to the world. He pushed the blanket aside and rose to his feet quietly, finding his silks hanging from a hook on the closet. He slipped them on and retrieved his pack from the corner, thankful for once as his old man’s snoring masked his movement further.

Still, couldn’t be too careful.



Ranma concentrated, reversing his own aura with a technique that would make him all but invisible to the outside world. Invisible wasn’t quite right, he amended, stepping up onto the already open windowsill. People were simply encouraged not to notice him now and he made full use of the technique, hopping out into the warm night’s air. He stepped silently across the dojo property and leapt up to the wall, noticing for the first time which female had taken to the rooftop outpost. On the wooden slats sat Shampoo, dipping in and out of her sleeping state.



That left Ukyo and Nabiki.



He scanned the area from his wall borne vantage point now, searching for the other players that would be tracking him. Ukyo he wasn’t certain about. His childhood friend was nowhere about. Nabiki however, was damn predictable as evidenced by the slightly conspicuous female jogger trotting by the Tendo compound. He was willing to bet that same girl had already jogged by several times tonight, studiously taking notes of any suspicious activity.



Headlights flashed onto the street and a limo turned the corner, pulling to a stop right beside the gate below his person. Ranma frowned. Activities like that.



Ranma shrugged to himself, assessing the damage. Nabiki’s gonna know I left, but that’s not a surprise. Shampoo’s still waking up. Ukyo’s nowhere in sight, Sasuke’s probably trying to crawl out from under the house… Deciding the getaway was still salvageable, Ranma hopped down to the sidewalk were the chauffer was opening the door, nearly giving the man a heart attack as he dropped the Umi Sen Ken cloak behind him.



“Eh, Sorry about that,” Ranma apologized sheepishly and the suit nodded.



“Of course,” He replied, having regained his composure quickly enough to impress the martial artist. “Miss Meiou is waiting inside.”



The man beckoned Ranma inside and Ranma peered within, finding the emerald haired woman within, smiling back mysteriously. Unlike the lavender before, she now wore a black business suit and skirt and beneath it, a white business shirt and purple neckerchief tied into a bow. She shifted a shapely leg, moving aside for him.



“Welcome back, Saotome-san,” She brushed a lock of green hair away from those red eyes. Even though he knew they were bad thoughts, the woman was beautiful. “Shall we?”



“Uh, yeah,” He agreed, sliding into the limo and onto the leather seat next to her and pushing the pack off onto another spacious seat. “Need to get going before the rest notice I’m gone.”



The door closed and the driver reentered at the wheel. Setsuna’s smile turned mischievous. “Ah yes, quite the ladies man if I recall. Even so, you are quite correct. Ours is not their business. Driver?”



“The airport, Miss Meiou?”



“Please.” The limo lurched to a soft roll and began to pick up speed. Setsuna turned back to Ranma, but the man spoke again.



“Maam, the rear view if you please.”



The guardian pressed a button and a flat screen slid out of the velvet roof, captivating Ranma until the picture snapped on. It was an image of Shampoo. Running. Behind them? Ranma stared, then twisted around to look out the rear tinted window. Sure enough, the purple haired Amazon had given chase at her best speed.



“My, isn’t she a tenacious one,” Setsuna chuckled, watching the girl stay with them through the next turn.



“Shall I lose her on the express, Miss?” the chauffer asked calmly.



“I think it would be for the best,” Setsuna nodded, looking at Ranma. “The Amazons tend to be poor losers after all.”



Ranma couldn’t help but to chuckle now as well. “You could say that.”



The vehicle continued out of the suburb at an easy pace, while shampoo continued to trail behind until the driver found his turn to the express way. Ranma sighed as he watched the girl lose ground for a few minutes, then hopped atop a truck passing by her in the same direction. It was a great idea until her newly acquired transportation took the next exit five minutes later. Without further midnight traffic to bridge the gap, both watched as the misrouted girl disappeared.



“I’m sure I mentioned to pack light,” Setsuna broke the silence causing Ranma to turn and find her gesturing to his overstuffed backpack.



“Yeah, well, didn’t know what to expect when we got there, so…”



“We’ll be staying at the Mandarin Oriental, Hyde Park,” She remarked casually. He hands found a sleek, stylish violet purse and opened it, pulling out a brochure. “It should suffice until we find somewhere more permanent.”



Ranma opened the glossy pamphlet and nearly choked. Extravagant only began to describe the place he was looking at. “Um, I hate to say this, but…”



“I’ve already taken care of it,” Setsuna waived away the teen’s monetary concerns as if they were completely inconsequential. “We’ll budget for new clothing as well. Get whatever you need out of that, because it won’t be coming with us.”



Ranma frowned at the thought. The pack itself was a veteran of many of his travels. Sure, it was still quite expendable, but it felt almost criminal to toss it to the wayside as such. “I already got what I need.”



“Good,” She nodded. “I’ll have the chauffer drop it back at my apartment.”



“Fair enough, I guess,” Ranma decided. Parting with the pack wasn’t what he had set out to do, but if the woman was just going to replace everything once they got to London…



“These,” She pulled another document from her purse and Ranma’s eyes tracked two small, obnoxiously red booklets. “Are your passport. In it, it says you’ve been to China, India and Korea.”



“But I have been to those places,” Ranma took the book, examining the various stamps posted to each page. A picture of him smiling in a dress shirt and tie stood out on the first page. A look at the other booklet revealed his female aspect with an equally cheesy smile. When did she manage to get these? Even better, how?



“Of course, but this creates an official paper trail.” She elaborated patiently. “Arriving for international travel without the proper documentation would attract unwanted attention.”



“Was wondering why you weren’t just zapping us over to England,” Ranma returned thoughtfully, pocketing the document.



“Very astute,” Setsuna complimented, less surprised than before with how quickly the teen was able to assimilate complex topics. “Popping to and fro without rhyme or reason also tends to raise eyebrows, especially when it involves traveling thousands of miles in mere seconds.”



“Kinda like some of the stuff that goes on back at the dojo,” Ranma nodded, easily relating. “But people around there are used to it and the police are pretty hands off.”



“I’d imagine so,” The Princess of Pluto returned with a chuckle. “See no evil, hear no evil?”



“Pretty much.”



“And since we’re on the topic, how good is your English?” Sesuna returned to business, but the friendly smile remained.



“Decent,” He replied vaguely. “better than Shampoo sounds speakin’ Japanese.”



The Guardian nodded. “One less worry then.”



The light conversation ensured their thirty minute trip passed quickly and both bid their limo and Ranma’s pack goodbye upon their arrival at Narita’s terminal two for their flight. Check in consisted of being ushered off to a special line apart from the normal travelers. Without any baggage to speak of, they were ticketed and through security with minimal of hassle.



For Ranma who had never stepped foot in a proper airport, let alone aboard an airliner, the experience was an adventure in and of itself. Sure, nobody was screaming ‘Die Ranma, Die,” but it was a world never seen in person and he soaked in the detail eagerly as they passed by the various shops and lounges enroute to their gate. He was in the process of staring at one of the fancy Sushi restaurants when something tickled his senses. Ranma looked around and found…



…A girl.



Shit, he grumbled and turned his full attention on the student he clearly recognized from Nabiki’s circle of friends, if one were to use the term friends generously. She was trying not to appear too overt in her spying but once he turned toward her the girl looked away, angling toward a payphone.



How the Tendo had even divined that there was even the possibility that he would eventually arrive at the airport was beyond him, but the depth of her activities just to keep track of him spoke volumes. Scary volumes.



“Problem?” the emerald haired guardian stopped beside him, noticing his attention directed at the girl across the breezeway.



“One of Nabiki’s,” Ranma commented derisively. “She couldn’t have followed us, which means…”



“…She was instructed to wait here.” Setsuna finished, drawing on the most logical conclusion available. On one hand, Ranma’s Nabiki was impressive, having actually devised a contingency that would track him in the unlikely event that he fled to an airport. On the other hand...



“Piece of work, that child,” She sniffed with an edge of contempt. “Follow me, please.”



Ranma watched as Setsuna took the lead and shrugged, following her across the breezeway and over to the girl whose back was facing them while she dialed on the payphone. The Mistress of Time walked up behind her and pushed a single, seemingly delicate finger into the rocker, disconnecting the call that had only begun to ring.



The girl turned around, find Setsuna’s red eyes first, then Ranma’s. It took a moment for her to comprehend her situation and when her mouth finally caught up to her brain, she only managed a single syllable before being interrupted.



“I—“



“Yes, you.” Setsuna agreed haughtily, her gaze holding the girl with unflinching superiority. “How much does the Tendo pay you for such menial work?”



“She, um…Twenty five thousand,” The girl lied, purposely inflating the number as her brain scrambled for a way to extricate herself from the situation.



“Seriously?” The emerald haired woman, laughed, turning back to Ranma. “You’re right, Ranma-kun. Tendo is cheap.”



“Been saying that for years.” Ranma shrugged without care, falling in line with the act.



“You… I…” Again, she barely managed to start the sentence before being cut off.



“Yes, you again,” Setsuna continued in her similarly arrogant manner. “Personally, I would not consider such a pittance fitting compensation for being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night to stalk a world class martial artist. In fact…” She tugged at her purse, pulling out a small pocket book and sheets of yen from within. “I would say your time would be worth… double that?”



The girl was blinking rapidly now at the turn of events and even Ranma couldn’t help but to stare.



“Double…?”



“Perhaps you’re right,” Setsuna frowned to herself as if thinking the matter over, then added another sheet to the fan of cash. “I would be a tad grumpy for being kept awake at this ungodly hour as well. Let’s round it up to sixty thousand.”



“Okay?” The stupefied girl reached in an almost mechanically for the funds. She pulled on the light tan sheets, only to find them rooted in place. She stared at the woman almost pitifully as a second tug at the cash failed as well.



“Of course, this never happened.” The guardian smiled sweetly. The girl nodded. “And you never saw us.” The girl nodded again. “And I should hate to think what would happen if you did.” Setsuna cast a lazy glance off to Ranma, who bore a steely blue gaze into the girl. She nodded with slightly more enthusiasm.



“Good!” The guardian of time effused, pushing the money forward. This time the girl hesitated hesitate for the merest moment before snatching the yen from Pluto’s grasp. “Now be on your way.”



The anonymous girl glanced at the cash in hand once more, as if to verify it was in fact real before turning on a heel. Just as she was about to dismiss herself, she looked back at Ranma with an almost confused, apologetic look on her face.



“Um… Ah…” She stumbled clearly ill-equipped for the situation at hand. “Uh, good luck with you new fiancée, Saotome!”



She turned and fled, leaving Ranma to eat the carpet of Narita’s terminal two.
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“Can’t sleep?”



Ranma turned over in the plush recliner to face his Emerald haired traveler who was reading through a rather large leather bound book. Setsuna was leaning back in her own chair, blanket over her legs and a reading light illuminating her area. Aside from the rumble of the aircraft around them, they were effectively alone in their own cabin aboard the Boeing 747 cruising somewhere over South Korea.



The martial artist propped himself up, considering the question. “It’s the plane… first time and all that. Usually I’d work it off with a kata, but…”



His gesture to the cabin around them said all that needed to be said. Sure, it was the most expensive seat on the plane partitioned off from the rest of the passengers and equipped state of the art audio, video, a small library of literature and, of course, an on-call attendant ready to service their every need, but there was only so much you could fit into a plane and as luxurious as the compartment was, it was hardly a dojo.



“Guess I should be asking you what we should be expectin’ in England.” He shrugged, and Setsuna put her book down.



“A pertinent question,” She nodded with a mysterious smile. “One I cannot fully answer. The time gates had nearly finished mapping the previous timeline when you altered things in the past, forcing a restart of the entire process.” Ranma stared with an uncomprehending look and the Guardian elaborated patiently. “Meaning that while I know England is a critical nexus of activity for the near future, I’m only getting bits and pieces at the moment. The longer the gates chew on the issue, the more info we’ll have.”



“What sort of bits and pieces?” Ranma leaned over the cushy arm rest, interested in just what he was about to potentially step into.



“Magical activity has spiked in the area,” She continued. “I’m still fleshing out just who we have to work with in the area, but wizards, demons and vampires don’t look out of the question at this point.”



“All because I went back to the past?” He frowned, not realizing just how far his own actions had resonated through time. “Heck, I didn’t even get a clean shot off at that woman and things are still messed up.”



“Beryl wasn’t the decisive factor in this, Ranma-kun,” The Mistress of Time continued softly. “Beryl was effectively removed from the equation in both of our timeframes. The only effective difference between the two was that there was somebody in this timeframe that delayed the youma long enough for over four hundred and seventy eight people to be moved to safety.



Ranma cocked his head, clearly intrigued now. “Yeah? And who was that?”



Her smile reappeared. Some considered such naivety a curse. After shepherding Usagi Tsukino to her destiny, Setsuna Meiou could only see it as a gift; one that Ranma possessed in spite of the incessant attempts to mold him into either a weapon or breeding stock.



“You, Guardian Saotome.”



“Me?” The martial artist blinked. “Nah. All I did was uphold the code. Same as those other poor smucks.”



“And in the process buy the time necessary for those refugees to escape,” He was about to protest, but she held up a silent finger, bringing his objections to a silent halt. “No. You. The only difference between my history and yours is how Beryl died. Here she died instantly. In mine, she lingered for several millennia before the Princess finished her. Beryl died, the Queen died, and so did all those people… And now they’re alive. Not only did they live, but their descendants are thriving by all accounts.”




“Go figure,” Ranma shrugged, as if the fact that an entire populace springing as a results of his actions was merely interesting. “And speakin’ of that, what’s a guardian anyway?”

“A Guardian of the Realm,” Setsuna began, closing her book entirely to focus on the telling, “Is the Queen’s hand. They are not simply the military or armed forces, they were protectors of all that was just and right about the Silver Millennium, answerable only to the Serenity herself.” Ranma stared at the woman with an edge of disbelief. “Not only were they protectors, but judge, jury and executioners if need be.”

“That’s… a lot of authority…” Ranma murmured, somewhat in awe that somebody had seen fit to trust him with such broad reaching power. Trust wasn’t exactly a something many people invested in him to date.

“Necessary authority,” She elaborated. “The Silver Millennium controlled a vast amount of space and Guardians couldn’t simply wait for the Queen’s approval to defend a world or exact justice upon an enemy.”

“I, um… I mean… Wow,” Ranma blinked at the scope of his new title. “She couldn’t have been serious about that… It’s just…”

“My sister does not give Guardianships out on a whim, Ranma-kun,” Setsuna shook her head. “If the Silver Millenium would have survived, you would more than likely been awarded a duchy and annual allowance at the Crown’s expense.”

“What the hell is a duchy?” Ranma asked as the explanation spiraled well beyond his experience.

“In your case, a small moon more than likely,” Setsuna commented off hand, causing Ranma to nearly choke. “Given the fact that my sister also saw you as an emissary to the Starlights, Serenity would probably name you a prince- or in your case –princess to strengthen ties between the empires.”

“But…” The martial artists brain was verging on meltdown now as it wrestled with the concepts of being awarded a small moon and a promotion to royalty. “That’s… But I'm not a princess! Or even a prince, for that matter! I don’t even know what a Starlight is!”

Setsuna blinked, then smiled, mischief glittering in her crimson eyes. Ranma frowned, knowing he wasn’t going to like this one bit.





All the text books she had ever seen of England illustrated London as an odd fusion of medieval Europe and modern suburbia; Ancient clock towers and bridges interspersed between palaces and office building. All in all, Ranma decided the bustling metropolis was a place Kuno would be right at home in, if only to fuel his swords and sorcery fantasies. Ranma Saotome, heir to the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts simply found it wet, courtesy of the overcast sky and incessant rain falling from it. Normally, the change from male to female was an annoyance at best. Now it wasn’t simply an annoyance. It was an annoyance accompanied by a single word.

Starlights.

An entire race of people with the ability to change genders at will. And not simply change… It was a part of their daily lives, according to Setsuna. To change with the mood, the situation or- Ranma shivered slightly at the thought –just for fun. An entire race of people… like me? She shook her head, boggling with the thought. Not exactly like me, she amended, still considering the implications. They could change at will. She needed water to do the job. The martial artist suddenly snickered from her side of Setsuna’s new limo, causing the woman to turn her attention from the London streets just beyond to the red head.

“Find something amusing?”

“Kinda,” Ranma grinned slightly with a last chuckle. “Just imagining what you said about the Starlights and what Akane would say about them…”

Setsuna studied the girl curiously. “Oh?”

Ranma cracked a somewhat sarcastic smile now. “Yeah, she’d go nuts. An entire planet of perverts.”

“Now is that what she would say?” The Emerald haired woman’s expression turned bland. “That would seem to fall in line with my initial impressions of the girl. While they tended to be hedonistic for obvious reasons, I would hardly call them perverts. In fact, they were fairly well regarded among the other space fairing races.”

“They… were?” Ranma could scarcely believe her own ears. Her curse, the bane of her existence at times… was popular? “And nobody looked at them funny?”

“Oh sure, they’d get some odd looks occasionally,” Setsuna waved the girls concern aside. “But by and large, other races found the ability to be quite novel. Minako always found Starlights supremely convenient at parties, if my recollections are accurate.”

“Minako?”

“Sailor Venus,” Setsuna supplied, enjoying watching the girl’s cheek twitch.

"Ah, right. Figures." She returned with uncharacteristic tact, not willing to insult the guardian she had fought beside with an ill placed comment. Instead, Ranma decided a tactical change in subject was in order. "So what happened to 'em all?"

"No idea," Setsuna leaned back in her seat. “Beryl’s attack was a multi-pronged assault, sacrificing several worlds in neighboring star systems to fuel her demonic campaign. Even if there was anything left of the Novis Lumina by the time the Silver Millennium fell, there wasn’t much left back here to receive it.”



“Well, shit.” Ranma cursed, once again revisiting the vision of impaling a certain megalomaniacal witch with a tornado made ice.



“Something I’ve said on many, many occasions,” The Guardian of Time shook her head with recollection. “Too bad too. That home world of theirs was a work of art.”



“It was?” Ranma leaned forward, finding herself unexpectedly interested in the race that so closely mirrored her own condition so.



“Indeed,” The red eyed woman nodded, immersed in memory. “It was an organic Coronade if you can believe it. I believe they call them ‘Dyson Rings’ these days.”



“What’s—“



“Think of how the Earth travels around the sun,” Setsuna illustrated patiently, recognizing the girl’s knowledge gap. “Now make that path a solid ring… All the advantages of a planet but spanning a truly massive surface area; literally the entirety of Earth’s orbit. Instead of using artificial materials, however, they grew the entire thing like a plant.”



“A plant?” Ranma asked, somewhat skeptically, not even pretending to understand exactly what would go into the creation of such a feat. Setsuna nodded. “In space?”



She nodded again. “Like I said, a work of art.”



Ranma opened her mouth, ready to cite how unbelievable it all was, then closed it with a dry look. “Hangin’ around you can’t be good for my sanity, you know.”



“I’m fairly certain your life was already on that road before meeting me.”



Ranma blinked, then chuckled softly. “Point taken.”



Setsuna returned the smile politely and turned back to the passing traffic beyond the limo. Oddly enough, it was a smile that was reflected within as well, she realized, looking back upon their casual banter. Her duties through the millennia had been a decidedly lonely affair, and while she had taken lovers- many lovers –in the interim, none of them could relate to her experience. Seventeen millennia young female seeks ideal soul mate, must have experience in time travel, galactic empires and dance, the guardian snorted to herself with an edge of regret.

And strangely enough, she had more in common with this seventeen year old sitting next to her than half the men and women she had bedded over the many years. Which is pretty convenient, since he’s both, part of her psyche quipped with wry amusement. It also made his- currently her –fascination with the Starlights quite understandable.... An entire race with her condition not simply living their lives, but enjoying them.

It was nice, she decided. Nice to relive the good memories instead of the bad for a change and nice to have somebody around that could a least relate to them in some small degree. Ranma had probably seen more of her life and times than anybody else in over fifteen thousand years, and that was including her own reincarnated Senshi. Even Usagi herself barely remembered the Fall, she mused soberly. Give the girl another decade or so and she might have something better than swiss cheese for her previous incarnation’s memories, but…

“Whoa.” The single word broke Setsuna from her thoughts and she found Ranma plastered against the opposite window, staring at the building they were pulling up to.

“The Mandarin, Ladies,” The chauffer supplied deferentially as he angled the limousine through the parkway and up to the lobby of the grand structure, pulling to a smooth stop. Ranma completely missed the gender reference she normally might have balked at in favor of staring. Sure, the bellhops in the tacky red uniforms were humorous, but never in her life had she considered staying in such grandeur. The place was a goddamn castle sandwiched across several city block she noted and she stepped out of the open limo door with more than a slight edge of awe.

Setsuna walked around the back of the vehicle with a bemused expression. “Stop gawking, Ranma-kun. The Queen would have given you a bigger one.” The comment produced another twitch and she turned back to the driver, switching to english. “Please remain on call as we will be in dire need of replenishing our wardrobe once we freshen up.”

“Of course, Madam,” The chauffeur bowed, closing the doors behind them. The emerald haired woman led the way, forcing Ranma to trail behind her. The martial artists head was on a swivel now as she took in the opulent luxury of there future accommodations. One of the bellhops opened the heavy oak doors and both women walked, Setsuna leading Ranma straight to the front desk.

“Miss Meiou, Miss Saotome, so good to meet you in person,” The polite brunette smiled from behind the check in counter and Ranma’s ears twanged with the sharp edge of her British accent. “I do have two Royal suites at your disposal for the duration of your stay. If I may, will we be expecting your brother in the near future, Miss Saotome?”

“Eh, yeah,” Ranma recovered from the mental stumble, speaking in English now herself and still somewhat surprised at how familiar this woman was with them. “He should be along shortly.”

“Very well then,” She smiled warmly. “I’ll just need both of your passports and I’ll have you personal butler show you your rooms and amenities.”



Setsuna already had her out, sliding the requisite document across the counter while Ranma fumbled for hers, eventually doing likewise. The receptionist key’d the first passport into the terminal, then continued on to the second, but stopped with an apologetic look. “It would seem that you’ve acquired your brother’s passport by mistake, Miss Saotome.”



Ranma froze for a moment, then dug out the second passport. She handed it to the taller receptionist with a syrupy smile, taking the other one back. “I was holding on to it for him.”



“Of course,” She smiled politely, opening the second passport. “I’ve already taken the liberty of adding his information, though he might not want to run around London proper without it.”



“Heh,” The redhead chuckled weakly. “I’ll give it to him the moment I see him.”



“Right then,” The woman nodded, swiping three keys through a reader on the desk. “One for you Miss Meiou and two for your associate.” Her already pleasant smile brightened. “Enjoy your stay in London. Edward will show you to your rooms.”



Both women turned to their right to find an aging, sixty-ish white bearded man adjusting his round spectacles. His black and white uniform was immaculate and he bowed deeply to the women. “Konnichi wa, hajimemashite Saotome-dono, Meiou-dono. Please allow me to show you to your rooms.”



The butler turned smartly, leading the way as Setuna stood to the side, ushering Ranma forth. “Ladies first.”



Ranma rolled her eyes but took the lead anyway. “Smart ass.”



Five minutes later, Ranma Soatome one again found herself at a loss for words as their personal butler showed them their rooms. First, having a personal butler was just wrong according to the martial artists world view, but not jaw dropping wrong. She had always been a hands on, do it yourself type; a work ethic ruthlessly programmed into him since childhood. All things considered, she could ignore a butler. What she wouldn’t be ignoring was the dojo sized living room that composed her suite. Nor would she be ignoring the crystal lamps, expensive dark oak furniture and huge padded couches. The view would likewise be tough to ignore, overlooking the half of the overcast blanketed city from her new vantage point. She had seen luxury before, but normally never had time to partake in it and usually under some sort of martial arts duress in the process. This place…



…Her accommodations weren’t just rich, they were stupid rich.



“A fresh change of clothes has been provided courtesy of the Mandarin, Madam Saotome,” The butler stated, lingering behind as she poked her head into the bathroom. Inside she found granite wrapped tub with brass fixtures that wasn’t a furo, but then again, it didn’t need to be; its mass alone promised to swallow her whole. Beside it was a free standing shower with five massage heads separated from the remainder of the space by a simple sheet of glass.



“Should you need my further services,” The butler interrupted her mounting incredulity, allowing her to extricate herself from the bathroom before it swallowed her whole. “Simply lift the receiver. No request is too outlandish.”



“Um, yeah,” Ranma nodded with more confidence than she felt at the moment. It didn’t help she was fighting to keep her words from coming out in Japanese. “Sure thing.”



With that, the butler was gone, leaving Ranma all alone in the in the luxurious suite that, in her opinion, was many times too large for her needs. Could move the furniture around for katas, she mused, eyeing the space critically but dismissing the thought as quickly as it had manifest. Last thing I need to do is piss off the nice old man…



She shrugged, discarding the idea and moving on to the first and foremost priority on her list, a bath. She looked back into the enormous bathroom and sighed, resigning herself to a fate of luxurious bathing.







White light punched through the void of blackness allowing the mistress of time to step from earth and out into the time gates plane, four billion miles from her point of origin in under a second. The Princess cleared the blinding white rectangle of interdimensional travel and it collapsed first in width, then in length before disappearing entirely. The Time gates AI materialized next to the woman as she walked toward the gate, adjusting her pastel blue silk robe as she did so. The fact that it wrapped around her every curve was wasted on her present audience, who launched into her own report with her Mistress’ arrival.



“Status?”



“Temporal mapping of the new timeline is proceeding nominally, concentrating on key events per your instructions,” The child avatar detailed, prompting said timeline to appear in the air above them. “I have compiled a visual log for your reference, though it should be noted that such spot checking renders information marginal at best. A full mapping of the new timeline is highly recommended at this point.”



Several blue squares popped into existence along the timeline with the explanation. Setsuna eyed them critically. "No time. Hitsuzen waits for no woman and it's not as if I can stay a-temporal indefinitely." She thought on the matter, staring at the gates looming overhead before coming to a decision. "Obviously I haven't come to my own aid yet so it looks like we're on our own. Gate, did you nail down the refugee's initial landing site?"



"Affirmative," The silver haired girl nodded, and a map of Great Britain materialized in the space above the Guardian. A small dot blinked along the western coast of Scotland. "The site is exactly as specified by the Mercury archives; a zone ninety degrees out of phase from the local reality and thus rendered undetectable by normal means. Temporal mapping also indicates considerable expansion into the surrounding area and even London itself, though a school appears to have been built upon the original site."



"A school," The guardian paused, thinking upon the matter. "How quaint... What do we have for entry?"



"Only one specific method as been located," The AI elaborated, zooming in on Great Britain's capitol. A single blue dots sprang to life along it's wire frame streets. "A railway allowing for direct transit to the refugee site. Other methods presumably exist, such as direct site to site teleportation."



"Which would be a rude surprise were we to simply appear amongst them," Setsuna shook her head, more to herself than to the AI. "I'll need to sort through contacts. Upload the relevant details onto the staff. Any information on this timeline's threats?"


"Critical events are still being mapped out," The child spot calmely, motioning to the holographic timeline appearing over head. "Vampiritic activity has spiked over the last two years, coinciding with the manifestation of negative energy wraiths. Despite being crushed in--"


"Wait," Setsuna frowned, realizing a key piece of information. "We have Dementor activity?"


"Affirmative," The Serenity avatar confirmed. The map of London pulsated with half a dozen red dots now. "The manifestations appear to be sporatic at the moment, but are steadily increasing."


"Shit." The guardian mumbled watching the red dots pulsate. Vampires were nasty, but had critical weaknesses to be exploited. Dementors... They would reauire special hardware to deal with. Her Key was one such piece of hardware, but she couldn't be everywhere at once. Another reason to pay the refugees a visit, she decided. "Then how about the Nazies?"


"The timeline indicates that they have been gathering in strength since their defeat in world war two..." The AI reported. "Analysis also indicates some correlation between the vampire activities and the Nazi buildup, but I have yet to uncover any critical link through our temporal spot check."




"Right," The Misteress of Time nodded to herself, sorting through the seemingly divergent fact. In her timeline, Hitler had pushed his own super natural agenda even in the last days of the third reich, but little had come of it. And once the outcome of the war had become a forgone conclusion she had stepped in personally to keep it from dragging out with a dead scream. Of course, I wasn't here, She noted quietly. But was her own absecense enough to alter the timeline this much? Or was there some other catalyst triggering this particular rise of events? "What about the dementors?"



"They appear to be related to the refugees."


"Then we continue to concentrate on the refugees," She decided after the limited information and her resources to aquire it had been weighed. "We need allies in this timeframe and the appearance of dementors are a bad sign. We'll take the Vampires and Nazies as they come."


"Confirmed," The AI nodded. "I will continue to update the Key as information becomes availible."




“Very well,” She acknowledged. “Gate me back.”



Black space was torn open quietly as the two dimensional gate of white light opened behind her, allowing the guardian instant access to her Earth-side hotel room. Fifteen minutes later she was dressed, somewhat casually by her standards, in the hotel Mandarin provided clothing that fit her perfectly. While the neutral tan slacks and smooth, light green blouse weren’t her normal taste, they’d do until they could acquire their own.



Speaking of which, Setsuna mused, fussing with her green mane one last time before turning to the room door. She grabbed her small buckled handbag from the end table along the way, exiting her accommodations and walking the short distance to Ranma’s own. She rapped politely on the door and waited. No answer. A second attempt yielded the same result and she applied a more forceful hand to the task. Surely he would have heard that… She groused with irritation before her more paranoid nature took over. Unless we’ve been compromised. The guardian knocked harder, resolving to force entry unless her next effort—



Click.



The door was pulled open even as she readied her knuckles for a final salvo, revealing… Yum. Warring between paranoia and relief, Setsuna’s thought process defaulted to an entirely unexpected vector as a nearly naked, fully male Ranma Saotome appeared in the doorway with little more than a fuzzy white towel and water droplets. For that singular moment, her red eyes traced the contours of the muscle packed within every square inch of his lean frame.



Sure she was a guardian of the realm and the Mistress of time… But she was also woman. In short, Setsuna Meiou liked what she saw. No, she chided herself, shutting down the train of thought. Mission first. She pulled her eyes off the martial artists water moistened skin, noting the scars as an afterthought. The fact that she was even prioritizing what would first was a bit disconcerting, especially since it left the door open for what may come later.


"Jeez, Meiou-san," the boy shook his head upon positively identifying the visitor. Red eyes snapped back up to his blue. "Just say somethin' next time... Was loungin' in that monster furoh back there."


"Of course," the emerald haired woman nodded, silently thanking that her lapse had gone unnoticed and her reactions were quick enough to cover for them. "I was concerned that our location had been compromised." And thank God for the truth... "That aside, we have some shopping to do."


Ranma seemed to weigh the necessary evil for moment before shrugging, turning back into the apartment. Much as he'd like to protest, neither one of them had exactly brought anything with them and the polo/slacks combo provided by the hotel wouldn't last him very long. Especially once the fightin' starts... he acknowledged and resigned himself to his fate.


Setsuna watched the boy retreat from the doorway, allowing her a clear, unobstructed view of the martial artists body from his neck all the way down to the small of his back where the rest whas hidden by the towel wrapped around his person. More scars were visisble, several claw like scratches. Those, however, didn't even phase her; her eyes from drinking in the buffet of toned skin and muscle. On any other day she would have considered a certain amount of debauchery concerning the young man. Sure he was about seventeen, but age wasn't exactly a hang up for her nor had it been for the last ten thousand years. It also helped that that her new ally was built like a machine and she knew more or less what he was physically capable of. The guardian chewed on her lip, forcing herself back to business. Mission. First. She scolded her brain firmly and took the still open room door as an invitation to admit herself.

The pigtailed boy had transversed back to the bathroom. closing the door just enough to block her view further observations concerning his physique, causing her minor disappointment in the process. Still, it helped take her mind off the martial artist as she turned her attention to more mundane affairs, such as studying the decore of his room.


"Can't say I'm lookin' forward to this."


Setsuna arched an eyebrow, turning back to the nearly closed batherroom door. "And why is that?"


"Not so good at shopping," He commented back through the door, the door that swung open seconds later. Ranma stepped into the living room wearing the hotel dress shirt and navy blue slacks. "'Course, that's probably because I'm always roped into it somehow."


No, I don't see you as the shopping type either, Saotome, Setsuna smiled inwardly. "While I certianly sympathize, I'm going to have to ask you to trigger the curse." Ranma's non chanalant expression quickly adopted a frown so she elaborated. "You came in as a girl and in case you have not yet noticed, the hotel staff is very attentive."


Ranma was about to open his mouth in protest but settled a put out look, stepping back into the bathroom. The guardinan heard a facet run less than fifteen seconds before a busty redhead stepped back out wearing the same clothes, spackled with water and a grumpy pout. "Happy?"


Setsuna almost let the grin break out onto her face. The pout did little to convey her irritation. In fact, it only made the girl look cuter than before and she idly wondered if Ranma knew it. In either case, she was still wearing the same slacks and shirt. The pants now looked slightly baggy, but curved around her hips enticingly while the shirt... That particular garment now strained against her ample charms and it was quite oblivious that the martial artists had opted not to wear the hotel supplied bra. While she was tempted to point the fact out, another part of her brain unbiddingly answered the Saotome's question for her.


Yes... that will do just fine.


Though you have to know by now what those will do to men, she thought abscently, attempting to push the errant psychological analysis aside. Combined with her innate, exotic beauty.... Mission, mission, mission... Setsuna chanted, scrubbing the thoughts from her brain. "Then let us depart. Our limo awaits down stairs and as grateful as I am for the hotel's consideration, I'll happy when I can get into something more practical."


"Wonder if they have my tangs...?" Ranma mused, following the Senshi out the door.


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


As it turned out, Selfridges did have Ranma's tangs. Not only did it have his tangs, but they were by Ralph Lauren and priced at a two hundred and fifty percent markup beyond what he had bought his for. They were also embroidered were fairly embellished, normally featuring a embroidered dragon, phoenix, or the Chinese depictions of fire. Between sticker shock and the aura of high fashion permeating the place, it was all Ranma could do not to fidget, let alone touch the clothing before him. In fact, the only thing that kept him from bolting outright was watching Setuna walk right in like she owned the place. If she could do it, he sure as hell wasn't going to be the one to be intimidated by a fancy department store...


...Or the conveniently stationed attendants, eagerly waiting to address his every need.


Thus it was with some trepidation that Ranma Saotome, heir to the Anything Goes school of Martial Arts assembled his wardrobe. The mens section was easy. A few button down shirts with somewhat solid color schemes, some t-shirts, boxers and he was set. In reality all he had done was lift fashion from the store maniquins. The women's section, however... Well, there wasn't any reason to go over there anyway, at least there wasn't until Setsuna finished her circuit and rendezvoused with the pig tailed boy.


"Aren't you going to get anything for your female aspect?"


Ranma looked up from the meager pile of assorted sweatpants and garments, casting a bland look back at his escort. "This is for my girl type."


Setsuna Meiou arched skeptical eyebrow, studying the teen and his aquisions. While she could almost understand his point of view, it didn't make it any less of a criminal offense to hide that female body under clothing that could be called unisex at best. Instead of the outright objection begging to spill from her lips, she sighed, choosing her next words carefully and for maximum effect. "For a Starlight, you have a surprisingly narrow definition of fashion."


"Huh?" Ranma's head jerked up, momentarily forgetting the racks of clothing he had been sifting through. From anybody else and at any other time, the remark would have met with a wall of indifference. Fashion was hardly a concern to the martial artist, doubly so when one led a life that would see said articles of clothing rendered into useless bits of fabric on a regularly... Except for the fact that it was this particular woman saying it and she had employed the race that had become such an intriguing topic for the teen.


"Life wasn't always convenient for them either," She absently picked through a rack of skirts conveniently beside her, playing their conversation off as if it were merely chit chat. "In some ways they had it worse than you."


"Oh yeah?" The pig tailed martial artist had ceased his activities entirely, focusing intently on the guardian as the topic that had intrigued him for the last few days came to the surface of their conversation.


"MMmhmm," Setsuna nodded, glancing at the boy before returning to her search through the rack. "Most couldn't control that aspect of their biology until after eighteen. Until then, they were pretty much at the whim of their mood and hormones." She paused to allow the statement to fully sink in before following up with her next salvo. "Of course, it doesn't take much imagination to realize some of the awkward situations they found themselves in."


"No it doesn't..." Ranma murmered throughfully, so low that most would have missed the response entirely. It was also the response the mistress of time had hoped to achieve. It's not much, she admitted silently, stdying his reactions out of the corner of her eye as she plucked a random skirt from its hanger. But if he's been through even half of what I suspect he's been through... That, and the less baggage he had to carry into this fight, the better.


"Anyway, no need to draw this out longer than nessisary," She replaced the skirt. "Get whatever you want and let the attendant--"


"Um, yeah... About that..." Ranma drawled, looking from her to the clothing and back uncertainly. "Maybe you can... I mean...maybe... Since you actually knew a Starlight or two..."


Setsuna Meiou cocked her head as if trying to divine his request, though she knew exactly what he was asking. And it's probably like pulling teeth for him too. She kept her puzzled mask a moment longer before letting comprehension creep onto her face and shrugged. "I don't see why not."


"And I don't wanna be looking girlie," Ranma followed up quickly as the emerald haired woman made her way over to the Saotome's rack and inspected her initial selections.


"There's a difference between girlie," She picked up a black pair of trousers, putting it back aside. "And looking good. That's the constant we'll strive for regardless of which gender you wear."


Wear? It was the first time Ranma had hear anybody refer to his curse as little more than clothing, which in it's own unlikely way made absolute sense to him. After all, he was still Ranma no matter what body he was in, something too many people in his life seemed to overlook. Looking good, however, was not a new concept even if he did little to indulge in it except in times of nessesity. If he was going to commit to the task in either form, he was going to get it done right and thus followed Setsuna eagerly as she began to pick through his selections.


Fifteen minutes later, Ranma stepped out of the dressing In a neutral beige button down shirt and slacks, staring at herself in the while Setsuna examined her counterpart from behind. Ranma herself didn't know what to think, staring at the image before her. The khaki wasn't exactly her favorite color, but... The redhead turned slightly taking herslef in from another angle. "I'm not so sure..."


"I am," Setsuna nodded certainly, stepping around the martial artist while pulling at a shoulder seam to straighten the shirt. "Now watch..."


Setsuna stepped in front of the mirror and pulled at Ranma's collar, propping it up and buttoning up a single button to her neck. She stepped away, allowing Ranma access to her visage.


"See? Were i to splash you right now, you would easily pass as nothing more than a trendy guy." Ranma blinked and it was obvious that redhead was visualizing her very words. The guardian gave her a moment then stepped back in front of her. The girl stared curiously as Setsuna smoothed back the collar and dropped two buttons, exposing more of Ranma's ample chest before taking one step back. She eyed the girl critically for a moment before stepping back in and pulling the shirt tails from the slacks, allowing them to hang free. her last act before stepping aside for the final time was to pull the twine from Ranma's pigtail, allowing the crop of red hair to flow freely The emerald haired woman walked around her, smiling. "There. Instant femme fatale."


Ranma simply stared, barely aware of the self satisfied mistress of time off to her right. It was the exact same clothing, yet the end product were completely different. She could pass it off in either gender. Sure, the style was iffy and it tended to drift against her smaller form, but...

"...I swear it's her," A hissed whisper interrupted her thoughts and both women turned to the source, a circular clothes rack two aisles down. Couching behind its cover in a vein attempt to concele himself. "No! Roger, how many red headed japanese girls can there possibly be? ...With blue eyes?"

Setsuna's paranoia clicked and she shot the well dressed redhead a look, who gave her a slight nod in turn lowered into a crouch. She took a flanking vector across the aisle while Setsuna took her own route, setting up for the cross fire. She seriously doubted it would be nessisary to employ any serious firepower since the guy read as a normal bystandard, but if she had a yen for every time she'd seen an innocent bystandard turn into a life force devouring youma...

"No, no... Some green haired woman... A looker herself," Ranma crossed another aisle and gained a clear line of sight on her victim. he was twenty something with sandy blonde hair, dressed in a expensive tan sports jacket and hunching over a largish cell phone. "How the hell should I know? And bloody fine with her hair down, too. Yes... Yes..."

The red head in question now stood less than a meter behind the man who continued to fail epically at his covert surviellance activities; so much so that Ranma was beginning to get bored watching the man argue with his unseen associate. A quick glance across the aisle found Setsuna also watching the mark carefully also beginning to emote similar similar sketisisim. An agent of the forces of darkness this guy wasn't.


"Yes, well I've got the same bloody picture you do," The blond's voice began to take on an irritated tinge. "You'd have to be blind not--"


And suddenly, the phone was gone from his grasp and he whirled around with the offending act. Sure, the man hadn't seen the movement that had liberated the phone from his person, but that didn't lessen his ire one iota and he prepared to take such rudeness to task when--


"He'll call ya back, Roger." The blond blinked, finding his target suddenly in back of him and staring down at him manevolently. The redheaded beauty pulled the phone away from her face and tossed it off to the right, where it was caught by her partner who in turn disconnected the call. He looked at the pair, then back to the dressing area he'd been spying upon, then back, adopting a weak, guilty smile.


"I can explain this..."


"Sure you can," The teen returned mildly; too mildly by the man's estimation. She folded her arms, converying unspoken menace in the process. "First ya explain on why yer pervin' at the women's dressing room. Better yet, explain just how you're knowing me?"


"Uh, um..." The man disemmbled, glancing around at the staring patrons who had heard the girls. "It's um... Complicated?"


"As I am sure the situation will become once we explain to the management that your questionable tendancies have cost them two very well paying clients," The second woman frowned. As if on cue, one of the store attendants walked over to them with an easy smile.


"Is there something I can be of assistance with? Mister Buckle? Miss Meiou? Miss Saotome?"


"Not sure..." Ranma glanced from the clerk, back to the man. "Is there... Buckle-san?"


Ranma's honorific for the newly identified man held enough edge to cause the blond to redouble his plastic smile. "Of course not. A simple misunderstanding."


Setsuna nodded plesantly for the girl who smiled and went about her way without a question and as if the disturbance never occured. The guardian's red eyes fell back to the Buckle with a mischeivious glint therein. "So... what is to keep us from coming to the most likely conclusion availible to us?"


The man in question slumped but reached into his jacket, proffering his card to the women. "Hopefully my position... Nori J Buckle, co-editor in chief of Flange Fashion."


Ranma snatched at the card and studied the embosed english. She could read it fine, but there was little in the way of content for her so she passed it on to Setsuna. The green haired woman glanced at it, calling up the relevant fact from memory. "Flange... cutting edge, high fashion magazine."


"The very same," Nori straighented up with the recognition, regaining a bit of his confidence. "Published in ninteen countries with well over two million monthly readers world wide."


The statistics didn't even faze Ranma, who instead eyed Setsuna. "You read this stuff?"


"The girls tend to leave their copies around every now and then." Setsuna shrugged. "Though it tells us little of your intentions, Mister Nori Buckle."


"Of course," He smiled genuininely, brushing his styled blond part from his eyes and obviously more confident now that he was back in his element. "I'd be more than happy to... If I may be so bold, over dinner?"


The stranger said the magic word, and the redhead took interest for the first time since their initial meeting. "You buying?"
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As it turned out there stranger did buy and less than fifteen minutes into the meal, Ranma wished he hadn't. The pigtailed girl was now a boy, wearing the same outfit out the door of the department store as they had met Nori and nestled in the reclining leather of Setsuna's limo with a dour expression across his face. The mistress of time watched as a streetlamp casted its light across him briefly before fading as the vehicle continued its progress back to the hotel.

Very awkward, Setsuna mused darkly, reflecting on the meal topic and the newly acquainted Mister Buckle's foreknowledge of Ranma. Now it was a pensive silence that filled the limo and it was quite obvious that her partner had a lot on his mind... Such as what to do about the few thousand hankerchiefs in circulation prominantly displaying his- rather her -nude bust. But you knew... After the editor dropped that bombshell, it was nothing but small talk for Ranma and Setsuna shouldered the majority of the conversation from that point forward. All things considered, Buckle got away off pretty light with Ranma's lose of appetite, especially after discovering the hankerchief was but the tip of the iceburg.

So who took those pictures...? She wondered idely, knowing that the question was as rhetorical as they came. Ranma didn't have that sort of confidence in his female aspect. While it was obvious he held a certain amout of pride in it, she was betting that didn't include posing nude for glamor shots to be distributed internationally. "Nabiki..."

Blue eyes flicked up with a grade of hostility she instincively knew wasn't meant for her person while simutaneously confirming her guess. Seeing a response beyond protective silence, the Mistress of Time decided to press for a more meaningful dialogue.

"So... how long?"

Ranma considered the question for a moment, mentally deciding just how much he wanted to open up to this new woman in his life. After all, they had never exactly been the harbringers of good luck and forturne before... Maybe this one had earned at a chance, however. In the end, it came down a non-chalant shrug. "Damn near the day I set foot in Nerima."


"And you agreed to it?" Setsuna asked softly, avoiding anything that would even sound like an accusation.


"As if," The martial artist rolled his eyes. "Hell, half tonight is my fault for letting her pull this crap to begin with. I could get pissed at her, but then I'd get half a dozen fingers pointin' right back at me."


"Why then?" She asked, genuinimly curious.


"Bunch of reasons I guess," Ranma elaborated, less reluctantly as Setsuna drew him out of his shell. "At first it was the fact that me and my old man were guests. She wasn't puttin the money to upkeep, that's for damn sure, but I felt obligated. Not as if I could hold down a job between all the crap around there either. That, and she always had an angle. Havin' to tip toe around Akane, Mister Tendo and my old man was a huge advantage and she knew it."


"So you went along with it," Setsuna forwarded the most obvious conclusion avaible. "Biding your time until your position firmed up?"


"Exactly," Ranma nodded, then sighed. "Except it never did. The fiancees kept and rivals just kept coming, givin' her a non stop supply of crap to use against me. Much as I hate to admit it, I'm kinda glad you came along when you did."


"Something big enough to allow you to justify blowing them off for the immediete future?" Ranma nodded. "So the fall of the Silver Millenium and upcoming potential for apocalypse is your idea of a vacation."


"Yeah, kinda... No, wait! That's not--" The pigtailed boy notice the impish smile on her face and and snorted lightly himself. "Funny woman."


"Glad somebody thinks so," She chuckled before moving on to the next topic. "What about Buckle's offer?"


Any trace of humor instantly evaporated from Ranma's face. "Now that, you have to be kidding me."


"Why?"


Ranma held her with an incredulous look. "Gee, don't know... Maybe it has something to do with modelling women's clothing."


"True, but..." She cocked her head, as if to think, then shook her head. "No, best we keep a low profile."



The martial artist knew he should take his victory and run, but he couldn't help himself and asked anyway. "But what?"



"I... its..." Those red eyes studied him for a moment, then nodded, as if coming to a descision. "I am a meddler by nature, Ranma-kun. It's been my hobby for the last fourteen thousand years in matters grand and mundane. My thoughts on the matter…I doubt you’re ready to entertain.”



The Guardian of Time had meant to convey information concerning her nature. After fourteen thousand years ensuring a earth’s nominal survival, privacy meant very little to the woman. Setsuna Meiou stuck her nose in places it didn’t belong through sheer habit alone now and her words were to serve as a warning to the person across from her. To the Mistress of Time, it was simple… Ranma was afflicted with a curse, with no cure in sight and a severe case of gender dysphoria. Her natural inclination was to fix that potential weakness as she had so many before, a fix her new ally was almost certainly not ready for. She had pushed as far as she dared with the clothing, but…



Manipulation however would ultimately be counterproductive and Setsuna sought to reign herself in and serve notice… Sadly, she didn’t know the martial artist as well as she had thought and the teen crooked an easy smile, rising to the perceived challenge.



“I’m all ears.”



So much for taking a hint, She frowned mentally, keeping the emotion from reaching her face. Now she had two choices: Alienate him with silence or alienate his manhood. Wonderful.



“Perhaps our Mister Buckle’s proposal isn’t completely without merit,” She threw caution to the wind and watched the humor drain from his face. What was left was an emotional void and… Did the driver turn on the air conditioning?



The remainder of the limo ride was spent in uncomfortable silence as the pigtailed boy steadily refused to make eye contact, opting instead to watch the blur of sights as they passed through the rain spackled night. Damn, she fumed, replaying the events leading up to this. She had been doing so well too… Oh well. I seriously doubt he’ll hold me—



“What’d ya have in mind?”



The words came from Ranma as they pulled up to the lobby of the Mandarin and Setsuna looked at him curiously for a moment before conceding her mildly surprise. “I must say I wasn’t expecting you to open yourself to the possibility so soon…”



…If at all, she added mentally and Ranma shrugged as if it were a minor point to acknowledge.



“You don’t seem to be playin’ games, which is a damn sight better than most of the people in my life,” Ranma leaned back into his seat, his face not exactly happy but somewhere closer to room temperature. “That, and ya got a little bit more invested than just yankin’ my chain.”



“Indeed,” Setsuna nodded as her door was pulled open by the waiting chauffer. “Despite my… inclinations, I truly am attempting to be as transparent as possible concerning my motives.”



The martial artist thumbed his own door handle, opting not to wait for the chauffer to cross to his side and step out into the light sprinkle of rain. Sprinkle was too generous a term, he decided, revising his description of the participation to the consistency of spittle; Just enough to annoy him, but not enough to tote an umbrella or even activate the curse.



“Fair enough, I guess.” Ranma acknowledge easily as the emerald haired guardian joined his side, both entering through the double doors being held open for them by the hotels attendants… Still wearin’ those fruity red uniforms, Ranma chuckled internally, then turned back to business. “Still ain’t guaranteeing I’ll go along with whatever it is you got in mind though.”



“As you say, fair enough,” The pair crossed the grand lobby to a waiting elevator, already called down by a bellhop for their convenience. Back at the curb there shopping continued to be unloaded with the promise to join them in their rooms shortly. “With what I know of you and that which you have confided in me, I think it presents us… you with a unique opportunity.”


“I get plenty of those as it is... Most of 'em bad,” Ranma chuckled dryly as the elevator doors closed upon them. Setsuna touched the button labeled fourteen, setting it a-glow. “So what's so special about this one?"

"First, my motivations are hardly altruistic," Setsuna elaborated, taking the path of brutal honesty. "We are allies and I see these thorns in your side as potential weakness to be exploited and its something neither you or I can afford be distracted by at this juncture."

"By modelling," Ranma arched his eyebrow skeptically and Setsuna nodded.

"A means to an end," She corrected, the elevator wobbled ever so slightly as it approached the target floor. Doors slid open, admitting them into a well adorned hallway. "For several reasons actually; One part therapy one part liber-"

"I don't need theapy." Ranma scowled.

"You don't?" Setsuna asked rhetorically pushing through the martial artist's bluster as if it were non-existant. "Anybody that can be blackmailed through their gender can be manipulated in other ways by a more capable advesary. I will be frank with you, Ranma-kun, i do not see your condition as curable and I have been around long enough to know. In fact, the only artifact I know of that would have a chance to do so doesn't exist here. Your aversion to your female aspect is a critical fault running through you mental state, one that will evntially comprimise other parts of your life and potentially our mission."

"I'm the best," Ranma rolled his eyes. "And I ain't gonna comprimise anything."

"You do not know the opponents we potentially face," She explained, pulled her room’s keycard from her hand bag and swiping it. The door clicked open and Ranma followed her in. "I have seen allies manipulated into dark acts by enemies that would ruthlessly exploit secret longings for friends and family via magical corruption; People that wouldn't otherwise hurt a fly, Ranma. Trust me when I say that it does not take much imagination to realize what some of my- our -would-be advesaries could do with a gender insecurity such as your own."

"I'm--!"

"--Proving my point," She admonished gently and Ranma's mouth snapped shut, as if part of him was aware of just how pointedly his objections had been turned against him. The Saotome found a plush velvet chair in Setsuna’s living room and plopped into it, his body happily molding itself to the cushioning after a long, long day. "In any case, the main purpose behind accepting the offer is to acclimate you to your condition and thereby remove a potential tool from the enemy's aresenal."

Ranma headed her with a leaded glare for a moment before relenting into strained calm. "And there ain't no other way to do that besides modeling?"

"Oh, there are a number of ways," The Misteress of Time remarked. "Thought this particular one ties up so many loose ends, and I'm quite a fan of efficiency."

"Sure ya are," Ranma deadpanned rhetorically. "And what are these 'loose ends'?"

"Among others," Setsuna continued, evidential oblivious to Ranma's dry tone. She found the bourbon on the center table and poured herself a small glass of the rich brown liquid before offering Ranma one. He declined, continuing as she sipped. "This opportunity can also represent your independence, financially more than anything else. While I’m not exactly sure what photos Buckle has of you, it would appear that he and his associates were rather… impressed.”

Of course they'd be impressed, Ranma pinkened slightly. He could very well guess which photos they had seen… handkerchiefs and otherwise.

“Now granted, you could choose to continue live at the dojo if you desired, but that’s the entire point… You will have a choice not to be bound financially to their whims. Second and less obvious,” She sipped bourbon her bourbon with an amused countenance now. “Is that it breaks that particular monopoly Nabiki has by default.”

Setsuna watched Ranma’s attention suddenly found a sharp focus. “It would?”



“Legitimate agencies and publications frown on that sort of sniping and have a vested interest in protecting your personal image… Physical and otherwise.” Setting the glass down and sitting on the edge of the grand oak table. “Any reputable agency would set the dogs out on a privateer selling candid photos of a model that has signed with them. Long story short, it puts you in nominal control of that aspect of your life. And then there are the fringe benefits, of course."


"Fringe benefits?" Ranma cocked his head. The martial artist was still wary of the whole enterprise, but sticking it to nabiki was no small token in his book either.


"Travel of course. Fame," She ticked off on her fingers, "A social life beyond the dojo. it’s not the cure all to your problems, admittedly, but it’s something that I think you would benefit from."

The martial aritst bristled a bit with comment but forced it down. His first reaction was to deny the fact that he was fine and didn’t need a social life, but then, he wasn’t exactly in a place called ‘fine’ back in Nerima. In fact, it was named ‘suck’ and for very good reason, though whether a social life was the cure to that was up for debate in his opinion.

The Mistress of Time could almost see the gears grind as her partner considered the proposal, and she couldn't help but to be intrigued. The teen obviously had deep seated issues with his geneder. on one hand there was the defensive streak concerning his manhood that ran a mile deep. On the other, he seemed to at least be able to stand his time in female form. Let alone produce alluring pictures, she added silently, wondering which way the divergent forces within would pull him. Would the deep seated mascualenity overpower reason? Best back off a little in either case, she decided, framing her next thoughts. "In any case, it's certainly not a decision you need make tonight. I suspect we will become very busy in the weeks to come and that sort of visibility would only serve to alert your aquaintinces of our location."

Blue eyes considered her seriously for a moment, coming to a shrug a moment later. "Whatever. No guarantees, though I gotta admit I've done the modelling thing for--"

The words were left hanging as a curious expression leaked into his factial features; as if the pig tailed teen had suddenly realized something. His head swivleled, attention abruptly focusing on the room's window and Setsuna came to the most obvious conclusion availible.

"Threat?"

"Not sure," Ranma advised, stalking over to the window while the Senshi stood by warily. Something was bugging his ki, brushing up against his aura ever so slightly and it was outside the window. The martial artist attempted resolve the feeling for another moment before simply pulling the curtains open to the twelvth story view and throwing open the latch, opening the window. Setsuna watched as he leaned out into the night, then heard a disappointed groan. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me!"

The red eyed woman watched as Ranma pulled back, dragging... a girl? A kunoichi, she corrected herself, somewhat doubting as she watching the Saotome pull a soaked female ninja into their livingroom by the scruff of her collar as if such occurances happened everyday. The ninja herself was clade in pastels; A faded pink shozoko that had obviously seen considerable use and wear. Certainly attractive enough, Setsuna decided as Ranma left the woman sitting, shivering in the middle of her room to fetch a towle from the restoom. he returned moments later, tossing it to the frail looking creature with little fanfare. One of the fiancees, maybe?

"Thank you mister Ranma!" She effused, wrapping the towel around her person as the martial artist stood aside with a put out look. "It was very cold out there!"

"Well that's what you get for spyin' on us." He retorted with little sympathy and Setsuna couldn't help but to feel a bit left out now. The girl obviously wasn't a threat judging by her partner's reaction and somehow she wasn't getting the fiancee vibe either.

"Ranma," She inserted, studying the wet ninja. "Your friend...?"

"Ah, yeah... Say 'hi' to Konatsu." Ranma shook his head in a slightly disappointed manner. "And what the hell are you doing here anyway?"

"I'm so very sorry, mister Ranma," the kunoichi lowered her eyes guiltily. "Mistress Ukyo asked me to asked me to keep an eye on you."

"But..." Setsuna stared at the girl curiously, shaking her head. "...I was all but certain we weren't followed."

"I saw your limo arrive at the dojo, Miss... Meiou, I believe?"

"Setsuna," She corrected and the ninja nodded cheerfully.

"Miss Setsuna, then." The girl continued, pulling herself off the floor but still wrapped in the towel for warmth. "I clung to the undercarrige of your vehicle until you arrived at the airport. After that, it was a simple matter to slip past security and stow away in your flight's baggage compartment." Konatsu paused with a pathetic frown that would fill anybody of lesser mental constitution with guilt. "It was very cold in there too."

The emerald haired woman blinked, her thoughts barely holding off disbelief. She turned to Ranma for confirmation. "And you didn't notice her either?"

"Genius kunoichi," Ranma confirmed, shrugging as if the matter was no longer his concern. "One in a few hundred generations or something. Hate to admit it, but if anybody could..."

"Thank you, Mister Ranma!" Konatsu exclaimed cheerfully with the roundabout compliment.

"Yeah," The martial aritst shook his head, attempting to head off her good mood with his own displeasure. "Still ain't happy about you bein' here. I know you're just keepin' tabs on me for Ucchan, but we're here on business. Savin' the world shit, understand?"

"Ranma..." Setsuna injected, her tone one part warning, two parts concern. The last thing they needed at the moment was Ranma for Ranma's entire enterage looking to play hero.

"I understand," The Kunoichi nodded solemly. "Then if I may lend my assistance, the Mistress would be quite dismayed if I were to let anything happen to you."

"No," The Guardian of Pluto stepped in decisively this time. "We do not have time to---"

"This ain't a game, 'natsu." Ranma held the kunoichi's gaze, completely overriding Setsuna's objections. "Not like Nerima. When it hits the fan it's gonna hit it hard. If you can't handle that, best ya forget all about this and head on out."

Konatsu stared back at the martial artist, clearly weighing his words and their intent. After a moment, the bubbly smile that she had worn on and off since their introduction faded into a determined counterance. "I'm am the last kunoichi of the Nokata-Ryu Clan. My blade is yours to command."

"Good enough," Ranma nodded, seriousness fading. "Look, you can--"

"Saotome, we need to talk," Setsuna stated softly, her tone boarding on a serious hiss. "She cannot accompany us. You of all people have seen what we'll be potentially facing. We cannot afford to have a virtual unknown at our backs."

"Konatsu's not an unknown, Meiou-san." Ranma shook his head, failing to engage her seriousness herself. "You said it yourself, we need allies and Konatsu's damn near the only one back home that can fight me to a standstill, and I know for a fact i still haven't seen her go all out." She turned back to the ninja, who was smiling plesantly now. "You good with vampires, sorcercors and magical bullshit?"

"Of course, mister ranma," She nodded, then gained a far away look. "Though perhaps i should warn misteress Ukyo..."

"Warn her?" Ranma perked up, feeling dread with the words. Ukyo isn't here, so... "Why would ya do that?"

The kunoichi suddenly found other parts of the room to look at, avoiding his gaze. All in all, she looked guilty as hell; a fact confirmed by her next words. "Because I have already sent off a postcard advising her of your presence in London."

"Sonofa..."

Setsuna ground her teeth down in irritation, looking from the cursing of her fellow guardian to the girl. "Did you advise her of our present location?"

"Um, no," Konatsu shook her head, adopting her pathetic apologetic look once more. "I sent it off as soon as we landed."

"Regular mail?" The guardian pressed.

"It was all I had money for."

"That gives us some breathing room, at least." Setsuna frowned, taking in just how badly current events had turned before turning back to Ranma. "Are you sure about this? Her?"

"She gave me her word," Ranma nodded. "That's good enough for me."

"You're not the one I'm worried about," she added darkly, but relented. "What's done is done, I guess."

knock-knock

A polite rap at their door gained the trio's attention, prompting Setuna to cast a suspicious glance over at the kunoichi, who in turned shrugged ignorance. "Yes?"

"Edward, Miss Meiou," the muffled voice issued through the door. "We have retrieved yours and Miss Saotome's shopping. Would you like it brought in?"

Setsuna shot a look over to Ranma, who in turn tilted his head with indifference. "Gonna find out sooner or later, I guess."

"Yes, please," The guardian decided, agrreing with her counterpart. "Come in."

The door clicked open and several bellhops bearing packages filed in, followed shortly by the butler himself. His brethern found a clear space next to the sitting table to deposit their loads while Edward himself addressed the occupants, noting the new faces. "Ah, Mister Saotome, I presume?" Ranma nodded. "Very good. I've already taken the liberty of depositing your sister's shopping in your mutual room. Can we expect her later tonight?"

"She's ah..."

"...A party girl," Setsuna finished through his momentary lapse with an easy smile, resulting in an opposite expression from Ranma. "Maybe, maybe not."

"I see," The personal butler took the information in stride. "Then is there anything we can do for you... or your guest?"

Their guest was the quinticentital ninja, dressed in pink and Setsuna wasn't sure how to explain her presence for the life of her. The fact couldn't have gone unnoticed by the butler which would--

"Yeah, as a matter of fact," Ranma stepped in as the lesser bellhops completed their duties and exited the room silently. "Konatsu is gonna need a place to sleep in my room. Can we work somethin' out?"

"Of course, master Saotome," The butler nodded without questioning the request. "I can arrange to have a single moved in, if that will suffice? Otherwise, I will endeavor to open up another room...?"

"Nah, the bed will be fine," The martial artist decided. "Thanks, Edward-san!"

The aging man bowed deeply. "It is my pleasure, Master Saotome. By your leave?"

Ranma nodded and the butler departed, door clicking closed behind him. In his wake stood a protesting kunoichi. "Mister Ranma, i must protest! A bed is much too extravagant for a humble kunoichi such as myself."

"Stuff it, 'natsu-chan," Ranma rolled his eyes, well familiar with the ninjas subservient antics. "You're gonna sleep in a bed and you're gonna like it."

"I..." konatsu looked like a lost puppy, suddenly unsure of her fate. "...If I must."

She can't be for real, Setsuna checked herself mentally, staring at the pair as they bantered back and forth. Somebody with enough skill for Ranma to respect, but completely passive in nature... Setsuna shook her head but sniffed with amusement. "Work it out amongst yourselves... or are planning to add another fiancee to your growing harem?"

Instead of the subtle needling she had expected to inflict upon Ranma, all she for her received for the effort was indifference from Ranma and a horrified look from ninja.

"Something you should know about Konatsu," He advised, looking over to the kunoichi who gave her permission with a subtle nod. "She's a guy."

"She... that's..." Setsuna was left blinking, trying to rationalize how the feminine looking creature before her was in fact, male. She... he's good. Damn good if Ranma was to be believed, and his smirk plus the kunoichi's lack of protest all but confirmed the fact. I can give as good as get, however, she decided and fixed her own amused smile.

"Then it's a good thing you're a Starlight, hmmm?" She watched victoriously as the pigtailed boy's smirk suddenly failed, Konatsu turning to him curiously.

"Mister Ranma... What's a Starlight?"

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

Fifteen minutes later, and several conversational evasions later, Konatsu was marveling at her own single bed. Edward had done a fine job at rearranging the room, Ranma noted, rearranging the the twin to accommodate the extra bulk. In any other hotel, the new mass probably would have made for cramped living conditions within the bedroom... Within the Mandarin and the luxury suite housing them, it was still a stupid amount of room and promised to accomidate them with ease.

"So Miss Setsuna really isn't- yawn -a fiancee?" Konatsu had since changed into a pastal blue silk robe- the one meant for Ranma's "sister" and was barely maintain consciousness; buried beneath the scrumptiously warm covers of his new bed.

"Not a chance," Ranma shook his head, buttoning the final eye of his own black silk pajamas. They were one of his selections from their shopping excursion and damn fine ones at that, he decided. "Nothin' more than allies. She's the Princess of Pluto, if you can believe it."

"A Princess? How- yawn -exotic..." Konatsu's eyes fluttered for a moment before settling closed. "Wish I were... a princess..."

"I'll bet you do." Ranma crooked a friendly smile at the transgendered kunoichi who was safely on the express train to a sound night's sleep. He was about to thumb the lights when a new thought struck him. I don't got a clue what we're doing tommorow. No schedule, no clue what to expect....

The Saotome sighed and slipped out of the room, padding across the livingroom and to the door itself. Could just call her I guess... Feels kinda stupid bein' right next door though. Ranma exited the room and walked the meager distance across the hall to her room, pausing just before rapping his knuckles on the door. His aura strobbed out softly, finding the female presence beyond awake and active. knowing that his presence wouldn't be oerly disruptive, he knocked softly. "Yo, Meiou-san... Quick question."

"Yes Ranma-kun?"

The door clicked open and Ranma Saotome, heir to the anything goes school of martial arts was nearly blinded. Setsuna Meiou was wearing the hotels own fuzzy white robe that while oversized, clung to her every generous curve. The deep V neck she had allowed the garment to sink into did little to help matters and it was as if gravity itself was conspiring to keep his eyes from meeting hers. When they finally snapped to her red orbs, he was surpised to find an amused twinkle not hostile irritation.

"See something you like, Ranma-kun?" She smirked herself, waiting for the teen to recover. Unlike herself, he wasn't managing nearly as well as she had during her visit to his room but it was nice to know he approved.

"Uh, yes... I mean no! I mean...!"

Approved a great deal, She grinned mentally with the unintended compliment, but decided to let him off the hook regardless. "What can I do for you Ranma-kun?"

"It's... I..." He stumbled desperate not to take a second look at anything below the neck. A lesser man would have failed miserably, but those lesser men hadn't Ranma's exposure to the femenine wiles of no less than three women throwing their collective bodies at him at any given time, nor were they female half the time. It took an unholy effort to keep his eyes from drifting back down, but two years of pavlovian enduced pain at the mere tresspass of even associating with another female other than Akane helped assist in the endevor. "I mean... I'm wonderin' what's on tommorow's schedule."

"A good question," The Mistress of Time nodded, brushing a lock of green hair from her face. It was all she could do not to adopt a purely unintentional and coincidentally provacative pose with which to tease the boy, and only a nagging conscious calling her to duty prevented such shinanigans from taking place. "Tommorow is Diagon Alley. We will be meeting up with a contact in order to arrange a meeting with the decendants of the Moon survivors."

"About what time?" The business nature of their conversation helped Ranma focus, though it still took a consious effort. The woman before him was by no means a teenage fiance and had the looks and body to prove it.

"Our window is one fifteen PM local time," She advised him. "I don't expect any problems, but I'm not operating with all the information I usually would so it should go without saying..."

"...Keep an eye out, right," Ranma nodded. "Alright, thanks for the info. Night meiou-san."

"And call me Setsuna," she smiled warmly, the slightest purr edging into her voice. "Good night, Ranma-kun."

With that, the door closed with a soft click, leaving on nearly sweating, pajama clad martial arts heir standing in the hallway.

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

[add in Setsuna/Ranma/Konatsu's clothing]

"And here we are," The Guardian of Time stated as the limo slowed along Charing Cross road. Her companions looked out from the tinted windows, specifically looking for anything out of the ordinary or magical in nature. What they found as the chueffer opened their doors was a mom and pop book store and second hand music retailer, casuing Ranma to frown. He had been expecting something a bit more...exotic.

"Is the person we're meeting in one of these stores, Miss Setsuna?" Konatsu scrutinized the storefronts curiously. Neither appeared very busy and there was a likewise minimal amount of foot traffic along their sidewalks.

"We'll be here about an hour, Joesph," The Guardian nodded to the chueffer, who in turn returned to the vehicle. It pulled away silently, leaving the trio to stare at two distictly plain looking establishments, seperated by a plain red brick wall. Setsuna took a brief glance in both directions scanning for witnesses before flexing her hand. The Time Key flashed into exististance with a soft pink flash, dropping into her grasp. The action prompted curiosity from both teens. "Credentials," She explained cryptically, pointing the heart tip of the stave in their direction. "Touch the garnet gem, please."

Ranma looked at the dull red orb at the center of the alloy heart and shruged, poking the orb's cool surface. It glowed briefly then faded. The martial artist looked at his hand, expecting... Well, he didn't know what to expect and it looked as if nothing whatsoever had occured. Konatsu looked at his hand as well, tilting her head before touching the orb herself. The orb glowed once more, but otherwise produced no discernable reaction to her touch.

"Okay...?" Ranma waited, watching Setsuna expactantly. The woman favored both with a patient smile, nodding her head back to the store fronts.

The martial artist and Kunoichi turned and blinked. Where a once solid wall had seperated the two stores now stood... A pub. Ranma boggled, staring into the cramped establishment. "You gotta be kidding me."

"It's a compound spell," Setsuna elaborated, motioning to the watering hole that now stood before them. "One part illusionary glamor, one part to divert attention away from the patrons; functioning much like my armor's wards in that way."

"Oooh! 'The Leaky Cauldron'?" Konatsu gazed with wonder upon the new discovery. The venerable establishment bussled with activity and only now was it obvious that people were actively coming and going from the pub's beaten wooden doors.

"Follow me," She motioned stepping up to the door herself. "If anybody inquires, I am a Chrono Mage and you're both my apprentice."

Ranma shrugged with the little idea as to what a chrono mage was while Konatsu nodded agreeably, following Setsuna into the bar. The trio was instantly enguled in a carcinogneic atmosphere smoke, mingling tobaccos, herbs and food together into a barely tolerable atmosphere of that tasted as nearly as bad as it smelled. The guardian tipped her staff back over her shoulder and moved through the cramped quarters, arrogantly oblivious to the occational stares they were drew. Ranma wore his own cloak of arrogence, though his projected closer to uncaring indifference than aloof superiority. Konatsu trailed behind without pretense, eagerly drinking in the sights as they continued through to the back through a swinging door and out into a covered courtyard where they came to stop next to... Ranma frowned.

Another brick wall, this one accompanied by several ancient looking barrels and several deteriorating crates

"Like the last one?" The pigtailed boy asked, watching the emerald haired woman step up to the barrier.

"No," she corrected, silently counting up three bricks from the center, then over two. "This one is real, save the fact that is less a wall and more of a doorway keyed to a simple combination lock. Please stand back."

The pair of teens complied and Setsuna used the heart tip of her staff to tap the brick she had targeted one, twice, then a third time. Satisfied, she too stepped away from the wall and waited. She didn't have long and the trio watched as the bricks slid aside one by one like tiled shutters, exposing a narrow hallway that opened into a blind corner and the noisy din of commotion beyond. The guardian of time nodded to herself and stepped through, motioning the boys to follow her. What Ranma found on the other side of the passage was completely unexpected.

"Whoa," The martial artist stopped dead in his tracks, marveling as the space opened up into an back street market place on par with any that he had seen, and he had seen a number of them growing up on the road. The open air corridor was clogged with people and carts, hawking their goods and services to both the interested and uninterested alike. "Now this, I wasn't expecting."

"Oh, such an exciting place!" Konatsu's eyes glittered as the kunoichi's head swung around on a permantent swivel to take it all in. "If only Mistress Ukyo's travel allowance allowed for clothes shopping..."

"Funds are not an issue," Setsuna remarked, taking her first steps into Diagon Alley proper. "The local currency is gold, specifically the Galleon. If I recall ) correctly, a major bank is located nearby that will exchange the local currency."

"Thank you, Miss Setsuna!"

The woman chuckled. "Don't thank me. This is coming out of Ranma-kun's pay."

The martial artist favored Setsuna with a dry look. "I'm getting paid?"

"Details, details," She retorted smugly. "Come, we have about a half and hour before our contact arrives."







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Dumbledork
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YES! You should deluge the forum with your stories. In fact, you should post them everywhere.

Nothing constructive to say at the moment. You'll have to post mor snippets before I do.

And will you also post your least successful story here and continue it? I'm talking about 'Ranma's Craft..., ...Warcraft'. Some rabid WOW fans I won't name here have left some comments that probably hurt a lot. But it would be nice if you wrote more.
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spooky316
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And the funny thing is I was just reading this again yesterday. :D

I look forward to the next snip, and agree with Dumbledork. Keep putting those stories up!
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CatOnFire
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What's up with the formatting? I can barely read it with such an eyesore.

It's not that it is unreadable it's just that it gives me a headache.
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spooky316
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Strange, I don't see anything wrong, unless you count the line spacing between paragraphs.
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Ozzallos
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Like I said, google docs is making the funny lines as that's not the way it's formatted in the master.

Oh, look!
----------------

"Details, details," She retorted smugly. "Come, we have about a half and hour before our contact arrives."

Both teens followed the woman as she began to weave through the winding marketplace, dodging hawkers and their customers alike in the tight confines of the alleyway. For Ranma, it wasn't anything he hadn't seen before a dozen times in a dozen places throughout his travels. Animals, food, clothing, tools... Konatsu, however continued to gawk, bringing up the rear as the trio transversed the length of the street which finally opened up into larger crossing and a three story building of white leaning off to an angle. Above the entrance, the words 'Gringotts Bank' were engraved, leaving little doubt to the structure's purpose. The interior was completely at odds with the unkempt chaos of the street and if either teens hadn't already seen the Mandarin, probably would have let out an appreciative whistle at the vaulted ceilings, intricate chandeliers and customers conducting their monetary business.

Setsuna targeted the nearest free teller set up behind an expensive brass lined oak lined counter, noting both boy's curious expressions as they closed on the station and prempting the inevitable question. "Goblins. Subterraining species loosely related to Gnomes, but with a grumpier disposition and affinity for all things gold." She paused in the explanation, taking her own measure of the pasty white, beady eyed creature awaiting his next customer. "Pretty much extinct in my timeline, I might add."

Any other teenage boy would have gawked at the sight of the needle toothed, pointy eared specimen in a offical banking regalia; a full suit, bow tie and a single monacle poised in its right eye. Those teenage boys, however wern't Konatsu and Ranma, both veterans of the strange an unusual in their own rights. As such, the only point of interest beyond the idle curiosity the creature repsented was the business they were their to conduct, and Ranma mentally noted the creature look a lot like Happosai in some respects.

"Yeess?" the creature looked up from whatever work it was penning into a leaf of parchment with a feather quill, his gravelly tone clearly advising that the interruption was ill advised to waste his time as the Emerald haired woman stepped up to the counter.

"Money change." Setsuna stated in a equally business like tone. "Yen to Galleon."

The bleach skinned creature eyed his customer with the monacle eye and sniffed. "Account?"

Setsuna pulled a small business card from her purse and pushed it across the counter for the creatures long, spindly fingers to aquire. He studied it for a moment with a squint before turning his gaze back on the three. "Uhhhg... No account. Direct transfer fees will apply."

Ranma arched an eyebrow at what sounded like a veiled threat though Setsuna continued on as if it were all standard practice. "Of course. Twenty thousand should be sufficient."

"Hnnnn." Was the Goblin's only response was a distainful look as it reaquired the business card with her Japanese bank account number and typed it into an old early eighteenth century looking typer writer. No sooner had he keyed the account number and routing information in than an equally antique stock ticker came to life, dutifully clacking out the requested data a along thinm strip of paper which was in turn snapped up and scrutinized by the disagreeable creature. Squinting eyes traced the line of paper, then nodded with approval. "This is... Acceptable. One moment."

The squat humanoid hobbled off his seat, removing himself from sight before waddling to back room where a door was opened and closed.

"Such a disagreeable creature," Konatsu frowned, peering after the creature and his exit. "Very unpleasant."

Ranma nodded. "Reminds me of Nabiki."

Setsuna didn't bother to stifle the chuckle born from the last comment as it fit her view of the girl exactly. It took nearly five minutes for the goblin to return, scaling his seat up to the trio's level and dropping a palm sized black bag onto the counter before them, then turned back to the typewriter.

"Twenty thousand galleons from Yen, conversion rate 1165.33 to the galleon plus the standard direct tranfer fee of fifteen percent. Total withdrawn, 13,401,295 yen." A sickly smile radiating avarice curled about his lip as he pushed the tied pouch across the counter. It was accompanied by a sheet of parchment and already inked quill. "The pouch of holding is complimentary. Please sign."

The Guardian of Time favored the shorter creature with her own arrogent frost, marking the paper with a simple 'X' before pushing it back. The Goblin studied what barely passed as a signature with the monacle eye and scowled, but failed to pursue the matter further. Instead, he simply turned back to the stack of paper he had been attending to before their arrival as if they were no longer worthy of his notice. Setsuna scooped the black velvet back into her hands and turned away, her charges following in tow. Once outside the bank and in the clear, she pulled open the drawstrings and started to dole out money to the pair. Ranma watched the gold clink into his hand with vague facination whereas konatsu seemed utterly entranced by her golden coins. It was quite litterally more money than she had ever seen in her entire life.

"Okay, we still have about ten minutes until we meet our contact." Setsuna closed the coin purse and let its meager weight drop into her own handbag. She turned to the street scanning for her target. "His name is Rubeus Hagrid and you won't be able to miss him being nearly three meters tall. You two just nod, I'll do the talking. If he asks a question, let me answer and..."

Setsuna blinked, noting the complete and utter silence at her back. She turned about, only to find she had been talking to herself the entire time and no sign of the two martial artists. The Misterss of Time sighed.

"Wonderful. Simply wonderful."
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Ozzallos
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Ding!

Bart Gobbleman paused with the light sound of the door's bell, setting aside the straight blade of his stelleto and the accompanying whet stone aside to watch his newest potential customer enter. He smiled, turning back to the counter and hopefully a sale in the process. "Welcome to the Keenin' Edge! What can aye a get fer--"

The shop's purveyor's greeting died on his lips as his sight aquired his newest walk in, a girl in her teens wrapped in a loose hanging red swathed body suit, her jet black hair tied back into a single pony tail and smile on her face. Bart arched an eyebrow at the improbable sight, but fixed his own smile. Clueless toursist were always welcome in his shop, after all; Especially ones as pretty as the lass wandering around the racks of weaponry. With any luck he could sell her one of the pricier wall hangers and send her about her way. Any more luck than that would require a bar and several drinks, maybe an enchantment of two. The store keep watched her eyes wander from the heavier iron to the ligher blades, where they lingered for a moment before turning to the daggers residing in the display case. His smile widened.

"What can I git fer ye, me beautiful oriental lass?"

Her head snapped up, as if she hadn't even realized he had been standing no less then four meters away from her. She blinked curously then favored him with a dazzlingly cute smile. "Ohayou gozaimasu! Kyoo wa ii otenki desu ne?"

Bart blinked, his face enveloping in a quizzled expression. "Er, I didn'ta quite get that."

The girl's smile faded likewise, cocking her head curiously. It lasted for a moment before being replaced by one of inspiration. The bald owner watched as she placed her ands together- fist to palm -and closed her eyes. Concentratin' Bart arched an eyebrow then watched as he hands began to glow. He shuffled back a step as he eyes suddenly oppened with fierce determination.

"Kunoichi hahaku gikou!" The stranger shouted suddenly, a slight breeze wafting around her and her fingers flashed through a number of signs. "Iti! Ni! San! Toransure-to!"

The glow in her hands flared slightly, forcing the owner to turn away or risk the unnatural glare. It subsided as quickly as it was manifest and bart looked back to the smiling ninja slightly annoyed. "Now look lass, ye be cute and all but ye be takin' yer magiks outside the premisies, hear?"

"Oh, i am very, very sorry Mister Shop keeper!" The girl gushed, instantly breaking the owners irritation through a combination of surprise english and pathetic cuteness. "I couldn't understand you properly so I just had to use a translation justu!"

Justu? Bart Gobbleman's forehead wringkled. Never hear of no jutsu magic before. He gave it another through then shrugged. It was tough to stay mad at somebody as cute as the girl in front of him. "Ye be meanin no harm, missy, but some of the weapons here be magic sensitive, understand?"

"Definitely kind Mister Armsman!" Konatsu nodded happily.

"Very well then!" The owner smiled himself at the girl's politeness. "What can i get for ye today?"

"A blade," The girl's eyes began to wander the weapons racks again. "Do you have carry wakizashi or kodachi?"

Now she was speaking a language he recognized, but shook his head. "Bit far away from home, me lass. Perhaps a dagger for ye? A nice kriss, perchance?"

Gobbleman slid open the diplace case counter from his side and pulled out a waving blade adorned with red crystals and siver plate; basically everything that would attract the eye of a tourist. The asian girl looked at uncertainly but took the proffered item anyway, testing it's heft as the owner continued. "A fine silvered blade it be, favorite of wizards everywhere, donchaknow?"

Konatsu cocked her head and began to roll the blade through her seemingly delicate fingers, much to the alarm of the watching purveyor. "I don't think ye should be--"

The girl ignored him, spinning the blade expertly in one hand before tossing it across to the other in a blur where it spun in an open palm before being tossed into the air twirling. it was caught by the tip a moment later, balanced at point's end and hoped to each remaining finger one by one withough breaking skin until it reached her thumb was caught again by the point. She smiled sweetly at the gaping owner, handing it back to him leather wrapped handle first.

"It certainly is a pretty blade," Konatsu nodded amiably. "Decorative, but the balance is too far foward to actually fight with. Do you have anything that would be useful against, say... a vampire? Ghosts?" Bart blinked. "Maybe even werewolves, though Ranma didn't say anything about werewolves. But they would naturally be associated with Vampires, wouldn't you agree?"

The shop owner simply nodded dumbly, trying to gather his wits. the girl was skilled. Damn skilled, which meant that despite the cheery attitud she was probably serious. It also meant he wasn't about to try and liquor her up later. Hung over women with knives never made for a pleasant wake up call in his experience.

"I... I think I might have something for ye," He decided, taking her seriously for the first time. "What's your budget if you don't mind me askin' Lass?"

Konatsu put a finger to her lip indecisively, then reached into the breast fold of her clothing, pulling out a fist full of coins and dropping them on the counter. "Um, this much?"

Bart Gobbleman's cheeck twitch visibily this time as the coins jingled onto the counter. He looked up at her, then back down to the coins and back up at the smiling girl. She can't be for real. "Eh.. Ye mentioned a wakizashi... Will a short sword do ya?"

"Oh definitely." She nodded cheerfully. "As long as it is light and can deal with vampires and ghosts. Oh, and werewolves too."

"I think I may have somethin'. Wait here, girlie."

Konatsu nodded and the man was gone from the counter, digging though a pile of boxes, shuffling through several layers until he came upon a battered woodend one with a hinged top. he blew the dust away with a huff and sat it gently down on the counter before the girl, unclasping the two latches. Opening it, the girls eyes fell on pure silver steel with a flowing wave of symbols engraved up the spine.

"One of the few survivin' relics from of the last great war of men," Bart detailed, untying the leather that held it firmly ensconsed within the box. He flicked the straps aside to pull the hour glasse shaped blade away, allowing the girl to take its full measure. "She's elven steel, said to have been present at the fall of Moroder and the destruction of the one ring. Now whether ye take salt in that is another matter entirely, but it be a fine fine blade regardless, rated plus threeand documented with the wizardry registraton to prove it."

The black haired asian girl took the sword by the intricately crafter steel and leather hilt, testing it's balance first, then giving it a few good swings before sending it ablaze through several high speed arcs faster than the eye could follow. Bart stepped backl once more as put the blade through it's paces after another minute of bluring arcs, she bought the silver blade to halt, considering it with expert eyes. "Are you sure you don't have a wakizashi?"

"Eh... um..." Bart looked at her innocent expression, then the pile of galleons. Shit shit shit... Need to close the deal... think Gobbleman! What's hot girl like this lookin' for in a weapon like that?! His expression lit up as sudden inspiration hit. "Did aye a-mention it glows the prettiest sky blue when in the presence of orcs and other evil entities?"

Konatsu's expression lit up likewise and she enthusiastically push the coins fully toward him.

"I'll take it!"
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spooky316
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Peachy Keen!
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Now you've got me wondering what Ranma's going to buy. Part of me thinks it's not going to be a weapon.
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nekoboy
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So the refugees landed at Hogwarts, I could of sworn it was Diagon Alley . I'm trying to remember what happened to the sword of Venus. I know Ranma dropped it either on the moon or the Earth I just can't remember which. If it was Earth then I could see it as the start of the legend of Excalibur.
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Druid
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That was fun, though I imagine Konatus is not going to be allowed to go shopping alone in the future. :lol:
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Dumbledork
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Hehehe. Ranma will probably buy some food. I don't think he's ever bought anything else whenever he had some money.

This line:
Quote:
 
the fall of Moroder


I didn't know Giorgio Moroder fell down. Is he hurt?
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CanisBlack
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I'm just trying to figure out if the guy was serious or taking Konatsu for a ride.
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BlackKyuubi
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...... Sting?
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