[Ranma][FanFic] The Ranma Preludes #6: Mousse

[Saotome Ranma]

What you are about to read is the sixth of a multi-part mini-series.
Each part was written by a different author who chose or was assigned
a character or family to write about, exploring that character's family
history. It is our hope that these stories will provide a more solid
foundation for the characters in the Ranma universe, and, of course,
we hope that you enjoy them. ^_^

* * * * *

The Ranma Preludes: Mousse
by Paul Gallegos

RETRIBUTION

The sun dipped between the mountains, creating a single ray of sunshine
that bathed the small house with its thatched roof in a soft reddish glow, as
if it were the only thing alive in the field of tall grass on which it sat.

As the sun set completely, the occupant of the house walked outside to
empty a small basket on the ground next to the door. Bits of paper, scraps of
cloth, and little odds and ends drifted away in the cool breeze that began to
blow gently across the field. The man watched the unwanted items move in the
wind, then turned to go back inside.

"Papa," a small voice asked from inside the house.

"Yes, what is it, son?" the man replied calmly.

"Papa, when is Mama coming home?" the little boy, not more than six
years old, asked plainly, stepping into the doorway. His black hair shone in
the fading light, and his blue eyes sparkled as he looked up at his father.

The man turned to look at the pass between the mountains where the sun
had just set. "Soon," he said softly. "Very soon."

* * *

Morning broke just as silently as every other day in the man's memory.
He quietly arose and put on some older clothes, then went outside carrying
a large sack. Against the wall stood a wide variety of gardening and farming
tools - a scythe, a rake, a hoe, a shovel, etc. - and the man laid them on
the ground and began to tie them together in order to carry them to the field.

A noise in the tall grass caused him to grab a shovel defensively and
retreat toward the house. Moments later, several women crashed through the
grass brandishing clubs with large weighted balls on the ends and wickedly
curved swords. The man swung hard at the first one to come near, knocking her
senseless almost immediately. However, he had no chance to swing again, as the
women captured him and took him and their fallen comrade back into the
grass just as silently as they had arrived.

"Papa?" the boy called out, tentatively stepping outside the door. He
looked around the house, but could not find his father.

* * *

"Why must you do this every year?" the man cried out, bound by his hands
and feet in chains. The party of women warriors had stopped for a rest near
the mountain pass to tend to their unconscious fellow warrior.

"What have I ever done to you?" the man continued. "Why can't you just
leave me alone?"

One statuesque warrior walked up to the man, her long red hair flowing
out behind her from under her helmet. She glared at him with ice-blue eyes
and slapped him hard across the face. "Silence! You know that this is the
price you must pay for living in the lands of the Joketsuzoku!"

"But my son..." the main whimpered.

"He will be taken care of," the woman said, turning away. "Now be quiet,
if you wish to keep your tongue," she said, fingering her long sword.

The man did not respond, only glaring at the women who dragged him away
toward the pass.

* * *

Days later, in the early morning light, a group of women warriors dragged
the man, delirious, back through the tall grass to his home. They unmercifully
dropped him at the edge of the grass, then quickly returned from whence they
came.

The man crawled into the shelter of the house, ignoring his son's happy
tears, and hid under his bed until the sun went down.

* * *

The young man finished shovelling dirt on the freshly dug grave and
wiped his brow with the back of his hand, brushing his fine black hair out of
his face. He looked around at the fields he knew he would now have to plow by
himself and sighed. "Papa," he whispered.

He turned and, tossing the shovel over his shoulder, walked back to the
empty house as the sun began to set, not quite in the pass in the mountains
to the west.

It had been fifteen years since his father had returned home one day
after disappearing for a week. He had come back in such a state of fear that
he had hidden under his bed for three straight days, only coming out at night.
His father had stopped tending the garden that was a stone's throw from the
house, hidden by the tall grass that surrounded it, and all but gave up doing
any kind of work.

He suspected his father of being lazy at first, then he finally realized
that something had really taken a toll on him in that week he was gone. After
that, he simply stopped trying to get his father to do anything and began
working in the garden at first, then farming.

His father, on the other hand, grew weaker with age, and never again
mentioned his mother. He didn't want to bring it up either; the one time he
did mention his mother, his father had gotten a wild-eyed look about him and
screamed until his voice gave out and he collapsed.

Now his father was gone and buried, and there was no one to tell him
anything about his mother or any other family. There was nothing in the house
of his father's either - almost everything that could've pertained to his
family or his mother disappeared one day from the house without a trace.

All that he was left with was a warning from his father on his deathbed.
"Beware the pass. When the sun sets through the mountains and the light shines
upon your head...". He had no idea what it meant, but he could no longer ask
either.

Dropping the shovel outside the door, he entered the small house just as
the last rays of sunlight faded into night.

* * *

Three days later, as he tiredly walked home from the fields, he noticed
movement in the tall grass near the house. Quietly, he circled around to a
position hidden from view where he could watch in relative safety. He was
amazed to see two women dressed in what he could only assume was battle garb
crouched down in the grass several paces from his front door. They looked
like they had been waiting there a while - the ground nearby was littered
with the remnants of a hasty meal.

He decided to wait where he was and see what they would do, and if they
would even leave. He didn't have to wait long. About ten minutes later, the
two women, after conversing quietly between themselves, got up and quickly
stole away through the grass. Looking up in the direction the two had headed,
he saw the mountain pass his father had told him about on his deathbed. A
brief shiver ran through him, and he decided that the house was no longer a
safe place to be. Without giving it much more thought, he quickly ran into
the house, grabbed his few meager possessions, and exited through the window,
in case anyone had seen him enter.

After hiding in the grass for a while, he decided that the best way not
to get caught was to be nowhere near the house. But where to go? After a
moment, his gaze rested on the mountain pass, where the two women had gone.
He figured that he might as well start there - as least there would be caves
to hide in and keep warm, instead of being outside.

Satisfied that he had made a good decision, he headed off toward the
mountain pass, unaware of the solitary woman warrior that followed him from
a distance.

* * *

The young man dropped behind a large outcropping of rock the moment he
heard the voices. Two female warriors walked past his hiding place talking
merrily away, and he held his breath, lest they hear him. Luckily, they
continued on without so much as pausing for a drink of water. With a sigh of
relief, he cautiously peeked out toward where the warriors had gone. He could
make out a faint light coming from the other side, and he gamely snuck closer
for a better look.

Below the pass was a large valley, lush in its forests and wildlife.
Many well-kept homes dotted the valley itself, giving it the appearance of an
older community, but what caught his eye was the large mansion-like building
near the center, where women warriors would come and go freely.

He leaned up against a rock and tried to make sense of it. Could it be
that these people had raided his father's farm and caused him to go mad? If
so, then they were murderers and were owed revenge.

Jaw set, he turned and quickly ran down the path back toward his old
house. He had some things to do before sunrise.

His shadow, however, stayed behind at the pass, waiting for him to return
like she knew he would.

* * *

He returned a couple of hours later with a scythe and the longest knife
he could find. Boldly, he walked up the path, hoping to run into one of the
women warriors he now so desperately hated.

As he reached the summit of the pass, a voice called out to him from his
left. "Oi! What do you intend to do with that?"

Turning his head, he saw one of the warriors lounging on a tall rock,
watching his every move. Her hair was jet black, blacker than the night sky
before the dawn. Her eyes pierced his with a look of ... something, not quite
contempt, but not quite concern either. He noticed her figure for the first
time after that - her full womanly breasts and shapely hips and legs. He
almost dropped his weapon at the sight of this beautiful warrior, but the
memory of his father returned him to reality. His expression turned grim, and
he advanced toward her with menace in his eyes.

"Don't," she said in a tone that suggested he at least think about what
he was about to do. "You'll regret it."

"You killed my father!" he cried out. "You and all your kind, you deserve
to die!"

"Pretty harsh, don't you think?" she asked. "Besides, your father died
only days ago, and not by any of our hands."

The young man lowered his weapon. "How did you know that?"

"I've been watching you ever since you were a little boy," she answered
simply. "Do you remember when your father disappeared for a while?"

"Yes..." he began slowly.

"How do you think you styaed alive? I brought you food and water,
leaving them on the table every night so you wouldn't starve. I tended the
garden for you once your father returned and could not do so. I mended the
roof and fixed the tools when they broke..." she continued on.

"Y- you did that?" he interrupted. "I thought... well, I didn't know
that someone else was out there. I thought that it was just pixies or
something."

The woman flashed a rueful grin. "Pixies, eh? Well, I'm certainly not
a pixie, as you can see."

"That still doesn't explain my father's death or why he acted so
strangely after his return."

She let out a low sigh. "Did you notice anything unusual about the
village below?" she asked. "There aren't any men anywhere. No boys, no young
teens, no men, period." The young man started to talk, but she cut him off
with a look and continued. "This is the tribe of the Joketsuzoku. We only
need men for one thing - to breed. To accomplish this, we raid villages and
outlying areas for men, returning them within a week. If the baby is born
male, we also return him to his father. This is what happened to you."

He slowly slumped to the ground, a dazed look on his face as the truth
of her words sunk in.

"Come," she said, hopping down from her perch. "Let us return to your
home. I will tell you all you wish to know."

With that, she started back down the path toward his small house. He
rose and followed her without a word.

* * *

"So," she began as she sat down on one of the chairs in the squalid
house. The house itself wasn't much more than one big room with two beds
in one corner and a table with two chairs in the center. The other side
of the house held several pantries and storage cupboards, mostly used for
food, though the young man had, on occasion, kept colorful rocks and
useless items there. The woman warrior looked around the house disdainfully
and set her sword on the table close to her, eyeing the young man warily.

"So," he repeated dully. "You've been watching me all this time."

"Correct," she replied.

"Why? You could've just left me to die here, you know."

"I could not do that. Our warrior code dictates that we do not harm
children in these... outings," she smirked as she said the last word, "and
since I had already been with child once, I was not to be again."

"So once you've had your kid, you become some glorified babysitter?"

Her eyes narrowed at his harsh tone. "Do not get me wrong; I chose to
come here and look after you even after your father returned because you
might've grown up to become a good mate for one of the other warriors." She
looked him up and down quickly, causing the young man to avert his eyes in
embarrassment. "I see my time was not wasted."

"So when is the next 'outing' supposed to happen?" he asked slowly.

"When the sun sets through the pass," she answered. "Not too long from
now."

"So I have until then to get away," he replied.

The warrior considered this for a moment, then leaned forward toward the
young man. "There is another option, if you are willing to risk it."

"What's that?" he asked quickly.

She smiled and sat back in her chair. "Fight."

* * *

The young man landed on his back with a thump, knocking the wind out of
him. It had been days since his tutor, the woman warrior from the Joketsuzoku
tribe, had told him that he could openly challenge the warrior he was supposed
to "mate" with. A victory meant freedom forever, defeat... well, he tried not
to think about it.

"Get up already," she barked. "How the heck do you expect to defeat your
mate if you keep getting knocked down?" She twirled a staff with large
weighted balls in one hand like a baton while tapping her foot impatiently.

He slowly got up, feeling the pull in his cramped muscles. "I'm sorry,"
he said. "But these bonbori are so heavy... I can't figure out how you can
swing them so easily."

"Pah," she spat in reply. "Men are just naturally weaker, but you cannot
use that as an excuse. You must learn how to wield the bonbori if you wish to
stand a chance. It is the lightest of the challenge weapons allowed."

"If that's the lightest, I'd rather fight without weapons," he countered.

"That would invite certain defeat," she growled. "You would be knocked
off the path immediately in one swing. At least with the bonbori you have a
change to stay balanced and block attacks. The balls on the end of each shaft
can be used to defend a large area, and at the same time, press the smallest
advantage into a larger one due to sheer size."

He sighed in resignation because he knew she was right. The challenge
was quite intricate, as he found through her teachings of the Joketsuzoku's
laws. The challengers would face each other on a raised surface, such as a
suspended bridge or a tall tree cut down for this very purpose. To win, you
had to knock your opponent off balance so she would fall off the "path". She
had told him that the path symbolized the line one must walk between good
and evil in one's lifetime.

The rules for weapons were equally as intricate - nothing with blades,
sharp edges or points. The challenge was not meant to be to the death, just
a means of arbitration. Bonbori were the perennial favorites, though wooden
staves and clubs were also sometimes used. The basic rule was if you could
carry it on your person onto the path, you could use it, but once you let
go - ie., if it was knocked out of your grasp - it was considered "lost".
She had told him that only once in the history of the Joketsuzoku had someone
been victorious after losing her weapon. The thought didn't sit well with him.

He raised his bonbori tiredly and assumed a ready stance. She nodded and
began to methodically attack him, forcing him to slowly back up while he
blocked her attacks. The bonbori were heavy, and his strength was fading as
fast as the daylight. Three attacks later, he again found himself on his back,
staring up into the face of his teacher.

"That is enough for today," she said, shaking her head. "You are too
tired to continue, and the day grows short." She picked up his fallen weapons
in one hand and slung them over her shoulder. "I must return to my village.
Tomorrow we shall practice again." She looked out toward the mountain pass
where the sun was beginning to set nearby. "The day grows near. You must be
ready if you are to make the challenge."

With that, she walked off into the tall grass, leaving him on the ground.
He followed her for a moment, then looked up at the sky. He noticed how the
clouds seemed to play catch with each other, rolling back and forth lazily
across the heavens. Sometimes, one would hide behind the other, and sometimes
it was vice-versa.

Stretching his muscles, he rolled to his side, then slowly got up and
headed for the nearby stream to bathe, an idea forming in his head.

* * *

"Good, good," she said, stopping her attack and raising her bonbori in
salute. "You have come a long way in your learning."

The young man was breathing heavily and covered in sweat, but he still
looked like he could go a couple of more rounds if he wanted to. His tutor
smiled and stepped back as he lowered his guard. In the days that had come
and gone, he had begun practicing with the bonbori at night, while she was
back in her village, and in the mornings before she arrived, he would lift
heavy rocks, buckets of water, whatever was handy that day, in order to get
stronger.

"You're not going to win on speed, that's for sure, but you definitely
have a good chance if your opponent is also slower than I," she went on.
"Perhaps you would like to take up a new weapon as a backup, in case your
bonbori are lost?"

"No," was his firm reply, "but I would like it if you could fulfill one
last request."

"What is it?" she asked.

"Bring me a length of chain, used to bind the prisoners you capture,"
he said evenly.

"What do you plan to do with it?" she inquired, her interest suddenly
piqued.

"You will see tomorrow night at the challenge," he replied with a slight
smile.

She nodded. "So be it. I will leave it in the grass under the tree while
you sleep," she gestured to a solitary dead tree several paces to the east.
With that, she turned and departed, leaving him to prepare for tomorrow
night's outing and his subsequent capture.

He watched her go with a slight smile, her black hair disappearing in the
grass, then turned to go inside his house. Once inside, he carefully laid the
bonbori on the ground and admired the tunic hanging behind the door. The
white tunic he had been painstakingly fashioning for the last few days was
his secret weapon, he knew. Without it, he would not have a real chance of
winning, no matter what his tutor told him - there were no slow warriors, he
knew, and he guessed that she might've been holding back in her practices with
him in any case.

No, he thought, this is his only chance to avenge his father. Then he
would be free forever.

* * *

The next night, the young man waited patiently outside his house, his
tutor waiting nearby, hidden in the tall grass.

"I have meant to ask this for some time now," he said, loud enough for
her to hear. "Why did you help me? Are you doing this as a joke? To see how
quickly I can die?"

He could hear her chuckle from her hiding place. "No, foolish one. I...
had a debt I owed, which has now been repaid."

"My father helped you once?" he asked, incredulously.

"You could say that," she replied. "Enough talk. The others are coming."

The young man fell silent and quietly contemplated the coming evening's
plans. Minutes later, three warriors burst out of the grass nearby, each
brandishing a weapon of some type. The leader, a tall brunette with leather
armor, stopped and regarded him cautiously. "You will surrender to us
immediately!" she said.

Exactly as his tutor had coached, the young man did not move, instead
closing his eyes and resting his hands in his lap.

The women looked at each other uncertainly, then placed the shackles
on his wrists and ankles. Without a word, the young man got up and slowly
followed the group back through the grass.

From her vantage point, his teacher watched with sadness. "Good luck,"
she whispered.

* * *

All along the way to the village, he stole glances back and forth at
the countryside around him, trying to see if his tutor was following along.
Not seeing her, however, disheartened him. The women that led him along were
both very beautiful and very deadly, he knew. Beneath the beauty lay the
fierce warrior's code, one that would mean a fight to the death if such a
thing were warranted.

He at once wondered if he were doing the right thing, or if his tutor
had led him into a trap. He reminded himself he never really had questioned
this woman, he had just followed her blindly, like a puppy follows its
mother. He cursed inwardly at that and resolved to continue with his plan,
regardless of what she had suggested he should do.

When he arrived at the village, he was led to a short platform where he
stood with at least two dozen other men, some older, some younger. From what
he gathered, he was being auctioned off to the highest bidder, and the thought
angered him to no end. The way they treated men, they would pay for their
crimes, he thought.

"And this one," said the lady that walked over to stand next to him,
"what am I bid for him?"

Several answers were shouted from the crowd, none of which made any
sense to him. He didn't care, either, concentrating instead on his response
when he was finally "bought". He knew he had to word it carefully, one false
word could mean instant death.

"Sold!" came the cry of the lady next to him. He looked out to the
audience to see who he would be matched with. A woman of medium height and
build strolled forward, her blue hair hanging luxuriously down her back.
She wasn't extremely beautiful, like the lady auctioneer, nor was she plain.
She had an air of sureness about her, one that he knew was both sexy and
deadly.

His new "owner" looked him up and down in a way that made him feel like
a piece of meat, then grabbed his arm and began to walk down the stairs. At
this point, he stopped, causing her to almost lose her balance and fall the
rest of the way. She quickly glared back at him, and he almost forgot then
and there what he was supposed to do, his eyes locked on her hazel ones.

"I am not yours, woman!" he shouted loudly. All conversation, movement,
everything ceased at that moment as attention shifted to the two on the
stairs. "Untie me this instant!"

His owner laughed nervously. "I think not! You are mine fair and square!"

That was all he was waiting for - the mention of the word "fair". "It is
not fair," he drawled out the last word, "to capture one into slavery without
a chance for one to defend oneself."

The warrior whirled toward the auctioneer. "You mean you took him without
a fight?" she roared. The auctioneer looked helplessly back at the warrior,
then glanced back at the party that had brought him in. "Did you?" she pressed.

The three female warriors nodded slowly. "He did not say a word. We just
put the chains on him and took him," said the leader.

"Do you refuse my challenge?" the young man pressed on, hoping that no
one was noticing how his hands were shaking. His new owner turned to glare
at him and opened her mouth to speak when another voice rose from the crowd.

"The Challenge of Honor has been called forth!" said someone from within
the crowd. Murmurs of assent rose quickly as his owner looked out over the
crowd, and more voices began to cry out.

"Take them to the path!"

"To the path!"

The young man knew he had accomplished his first task when his new
owner glared at him again and then let him go to walk down the stairs by
himself. His chains were unlocked quickly, and a bonbori was shoved into his
hands as he was pushed along toward the path that everyone alluded to.

The mob arrived at a suspension bridge over a very fast running stream.
The bridge was at least two stories up from the water, and he knew that a
fall from this height into the extremely shallow water would most likely kill
him. Yet, he knew he couldn't stop now.

He blinked, and across the bridge stood his new owner, with people all
around chanting "Wu! Wu! Wu!" He guessed that must be her name - he'd need it
if he was to salute her correctly.

"Your challenge is accepted!" Wu shouted at him, waving her bonbori
around in a practiced pattern. The young man smirked; it was the same pattern
that his tutor had taught him to avoid very early on. Perhaps he did stand a
chance after all, he thought.

"So be it!" he exclaimed. "To appease the gods of the East, I salute you,
Lady Wu." With that, he raised his bonbori high in the traditional salute. A
startled hush fell over the crowd - this _male_ knew their traditions! Wu, on
the other hand, only became more enraged.

One of the women standing next to her whispered something frantically in
her ear, and Wu stepped forward, holding her bonbori low. "To appease the gods
of the West, I salute you..." she began with a tight voice. "What is your name,
foolish one?"

The young man stopped for a moment. "I do not have one," he replied
slowly.

The women around him began to whisper earnestly amongst themselves. His
opponent only shrugged. "Your grave, then, will be an unmarked one." With that,
she leaped.

* * *

Her first attack was timed to knock him off the bridge with one swing.
The fact that he wielded a bonbori like others of the Joketsuzoku tribe stuck
in the back of her mind, but she knew she should not waste time wondering
about it. She landed next to where he should have been and smiled. No sign of
him. She peered over the edge of the bridge to see if she could spot his body,
oblivious to the roar of the crowd around her.

His bonbori struck her squarely in the back, knocking her forward to her
knees in pain. She held on for dear life to her own weapon, knowing full well
the consequences of losing her grip. Turning, she saw him standing ready, calm
and collected, as if she amounted to nothing. Her anger rose, and she hastily
got to her feet.

Why he did not press his advantage when she was on the ground, he did not
know. It just did not seem right to him, and he had backed off. When she got
up again, however, he knew he would probably not have another chance to beat
her in weaponry alone.

Her next attack was precise; two strikes to the head followed by a foot
sweep. He blocked the first, ducked the second, and leaped over the bonbori
as it came whizzing past. Several warriors broke out into spontaneous applause
at the sight, but that applause was quickly hushed by stony glares from others
in the crowd.

Again, she tried to press forward to attack, but he held his ground,
parrying each attack she could muster - until one of his bonbori snapped in
half, and he was left holding a glorified wooden stick. He was quickly
relieved of his remaining bonbori as he stared in disbelief at the piece of
wood in his hands, and then he was stuck with only that small club and his
own wits to face the warrior Wu.

She slowly advanced on him, knowing full well that he would soon run out
of room and be thrown to his death. He knew this too and loosened his white
tunic, preparing his last ditch effort to win this battle.

Her attack, while predictable, was amazingly slow, or so he thought. His
arm shot out in a stopping motion, and from within the loose sleeve of his
tunic, the chain that his tutor had left him came forth, wrapping itself
around his combatant's legs, entangling her and causing her to loose her
balance. She fell off the bridge, screaming as she plummeted to the water.

* * *

She never hit the water. He held her above the stream with all his
strength by the chain she had been snared with. Slowly, he pulled her back
up to the bridge and then sat back, exhausted. Wu was stunned; she had lost,
or had she? She had fallen off the bridge, yes, but he had brought her back
to it. No one had ever done this before. It was... unusual.

"He has cheated!" came the cries of several angry women who themselves
were cheated out of watching a death in the water. "He has used a weapon not
permitted in the Challenge!"

"Hold!" he cried, getting to his feet. "The rules have always said that
there were to be no sharp points or edges on weapons! A chain has no sharp
such things, does it not?"

A small hush swept over the crowd, and then the same voice rose again,
"But you had hidden it on your person!"

"The rules also state that any weapon that is carried onto the path,
inside the rules of weaponry, is permitted!" he countered.

Heads nodded in grudging assent at this. The young man watched for a
moment, then turned to address the rest of the crowd. "By the Code of Honor,
Lady Wu has forfeited her right to mate with me!"

Muted gasps could be heard here and there as warriors realized the
shame the young man had just brought to Lady Wu's clan. At once, he sensed
that he had said something wrong.

Lady Wu, in the meantime, had tried to crawl off the bridge but was not
let through the throng of women. Some had even begun to kick her, subtly at
first, trying to get her to fall off the bridge. Seeing this, he knew then
what his tutor had not told him about the Challenge. It was an unspoken rule
that someone must die in order for honor to be restored.

For the second time in his life, he decided to take a chance. "Instead,"
he shouted again, "I _choose_ to mate with Lady Wu, forever."

Lady Wu turned quickly at that with tears in her eyes. "If... if this is
to be," she began slowly, "then you need a name."

"Give me one, my lady," he said, bending down to help her to her feet.

She paused for a moment, then something insider her settled on her choice.
"I will call you Muu-Fei, for until you arrived, I knew not humility."

"Hail Muu-Fei! Hail Muu-Fei and Lady Wu!" chanted the crowd as the two
combatants stepped off the bridge.

Afterwards, Muu-Fei and Lady Wu became widely known in the lands of the
Joketsuzoku as practitioners and teachers of a new style of martial arts,
the Hidden Weapons Style, and three years later, a son was born to them - a
son named Muu-Si.

-----

Paul Gallegos
ra...@TASS.org

-----
"Ranma 1/2" and its characters Copyright (c) 1998 Viz Communications, Inc.,
Shogakukan, Kitty Animation, and Rumiko Takahashi. Used without permission.
This story may be freely redistributed, but it may not be altered
substantially or used for profit in any way.