Wheel of Fire Special #6: The Hunters 

  Written by Razorclaw X (spiceoflife@NYChotmail.com) 
  www.angelfire.com/art/rcxshizuka/ranma/ranff.html 

  Disclaimer: Ranma 1/2 and characters belong to Rumiko 
Takahashi. Proper licenses belong to respective 
properties and characters.  All other material herein 
belongs to the author, and plagiarism of this concept, 
in part or in whole or borrowing, in part or in whole, 
will not only get you my ire but the priceless sight 
of seeing you behind bars. No part of this document 
may be reproduced, retransmitted, or altered, in part 
or in whole, for monetary gain, incidental, 
consequential, directly, or not at all, without 
express permission from the author (if you are unable 
to contact me then that does not grant you these 
rights). Such condition applies to all my works, and 
your ignorance is no excuse, as I reserve the right to 
update this disclaimer, and it stands in whatever 
shape or form it manifests in any work, appearing 
there or not.  

  Previous stories can be found in the URL given above.  

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

Day 1 of Stage One 

 A hunter lives to perfect.  Would that goal be to 
bring in the greatest bear as a trophy, or eliminate 
the scourge of demons, a hunter is never satisfied 
until he achieves a state of serenity-- a mindset 
whereby he is at peace with himself, and the world.  
Most never attain this inner peace, but those that 
persevere may find the path.  

  There could be no inner peace, or peace at all, 
until the scourge was eradicated.  

  His black hiking boots crushed leaves underfoot as 
the hunter pressed on through the silent forest, the 
curtain of darkness falling over him, with only the 
barest rays of the afternoon sunshine breaking through.  
Although he himself was generating noise the hunter 
could make out the telltale sound of someone running... 
running in fear for their life.  He smiled to himself, 
tipping his hat low over his eyes, and broke into a 
sprint, his dark knee-length coat whipping behind him 
in the wind.  

  For each step the hunter took he could hear the 
pounding of the hunted's heartbeat in his mind.  He 
savored the moment, relishing the thought of the 
hunted's terrified mind, and the inevitable conclusion 
at the fore.  Grinding his teeth together, his right 
arm reached to his left hip, grasping the handle of 
his single weapon.  

  Eagle eyes immediately picked out the shadowed form 
of the hunted.  It looked back, fear in its eyes, and 
the hunter knew the flash of his drawn blade would be 
the last moment ingrained in its mind.  

  Vaulting forward, the hunter drew his blade, with the 
serpentine pattern etched into it seemingly glistening 
with rage, and put an end to the beast's misery.  

  Landing several meters away, the kappa, a turtle- 
like humanoid demon, was still standing in shock.  The 
hunter stood up and turned to see his handiwork, 
spinning his sword to remove the blood, and then the 
kappa's upper half started to slide off.  Beginning at 
the waist, and rising at a sixty-degree angle, the 
hunter's cut was swift and painless to the demonic 
beast.  

  It was far more than it deserved, the hunter knew, 
as the creature's lower sections caved on itself.  

  Sheathing his draconic blade the hunter took several 
confident steps toward the fallen demon.  He kicked the 
kappa's head disdainfully, snarling in anger as he 
stared disdainfully at the beast's final expression of 
fear.  

  "Bastard," he hissed, "Knowing your kind you'll only 
reincarnate in your world.  Any foolish human would 
just summon you back, and then I'd have to hunt you 
down all over again."  

  He reeled his right leg back, and gave the carcass's 
head another heavy kick, this time sending it flying 
a couple meters.  Clenching his fists, the hunter 
turned, and slammed the trunk of the nearest tree, 
rattling the branches above and showering loose leaves 
and debris of bird nests.  

  "My talents are wasted on these good-for-nothing 
minor spirits!" he roared, voice echoing throughout 
the forest and sending birds flying.  "The damn 
exorcists can handle these small offerings, but it will 
be me who eliminates their ring leaders."  

  "There may be a way," another voice said, emerging 
from the shadows.  

  The dark hunter stopped in his tirade, but did not 
bother to look for the voice's owner.  "You."  

  "They say strong spirits... demon, kami, undead... 
what have you, are gathering in Tokyo," the other said.  
"In fact, two exist there even now.  Perhaps you can 
sharpen your blade on them."  

  "Feh," scoffed the hunter.  "And what do you want in 
return?"  

  "Nothing; I only wish for you to rid the world of 
two of the greatest offenders of Earth.  Now that your 
longtime nemesis, Zhou Tian-long, has returned to the 
Kami Plane of her own volition, you must track down and 
destroy the underlings she left behind.  They are 
gathering in Tokyo... for what reason, I don't know.  
However, these two in particular are quite strong, and 
it would be best that you don't underestimate them.  
They have many human allies with them."  

  "Heh, sounds like a challenge," the hunter replied, 
amused.  "The dragon's minions will soon join their 
master in the other world."  

  The other nodded, remaining in the cloak of shadow 
offered by the trees.  He repeated, "Do not 
underestimate them."  

* * * 

Front Entrance, Tokyo University-- Day 4 of Stage One 

  "Tatewaki Kuno, prepare to die!"  

  The challenge issued just barely within earshot, 
Tatewaki Kuno's head cocked in the direction of the 
disturbance, viewing the rushing owner of the voice out 
of the corner of his left eye.  He lowered the wooden 
sword resting on his shoulder, keeping it low as he 
slowly turned to face his challenger.  Fellow 
students nearby backed away quickly, yet formed a 
semi-circle around him, against the entrance, allowing 
the challenger an unobscured path.  

  Fondly, Tatewaki recalled doing much the same thing 
to a certain Ranma Saotome-- vermin beneath his 
notice.  He raised his bokken in the ready position, 
eyeing the challenger with a bored expression, gauging 
the approach.  

  He silently counted to himself, calculating in his 
mind when to strike.  He followed the challenger's 
footsteps, ignoring the threat in the opponent's hand.  

  Tatewaki thrust forward once, and the battle was 
over before it had begun.  Lowering his weapon he 
stared down at Shizuka Minazuki impassively, her metal 
blade lying at her side as her sword arm was cradling 
the bruise on her left shoulder.  

  "I'll get you tomorrow," she promised.  

  Tatewaki offered a hand to the fallen girl, but she 
refused, slowly rising on her own will.  Her right foot 
planted a defiant step on the discarded serpent- 
pommel sword, as if Tatewaki himself was having 
thoughts of taking it.  He had to admit, though, that 
it did cross his mind to add Shizuka's pair of Viper 
Swords to his collection.  

  "Your approach is lacking in style," he said, "and 
your stamina is lacking entirely."  

  "Stuff it, pretty boy," Shizuka hissed, amidst the 
applauding crowd.  "Even though I've lost all thirteen 
times, the next one will be it!"  

  Tatewaki snorted, raising his bokken to rest on his 
shoulder.  "Hmm... your lack of training is self- 
evident.  Is there anything you do not severely lack?"  
He turned to leave, knowing that the incompetent girl 
was boiling in anger... just like the last thirteen 
times.  

  As he was the only one living in Tokyo who had any 
skill with the sword of any import, Tatewaki Kuno was, 
predictably, the target of Shizuka's attacks.  In her 
misguided belief that she could beat Ranma Saotome if 
she could beat the great Tatewaki Kuno she rushed him 
every day after class, in the same approach, at the 
same time, and in the exact same manner.  For a moment 
he pitied the pathetic girl, but such thoughts 
vanished quickly.  

  If she could not defeat Ranma Saotome, what delusion 
was she under to believe she could beat someone as 
great as I?  

* * * 

  "Why do you keep doing it?" Shizuka heard Deathclaw 
ask, his abyssal voice echoing in her mind.  She 
imagined the undead dragon spirit was tapping his claw 
on her cranium as she made her way through town in the 
afternoon light.  "I could point out a number of flaws 
in your approach and your technique, yet you ignore it 
all."  

  "I'll beat everybody on my own terms," she hissed 
mentally.  "I don't need your help beating anybody."  

  The ghost dragon laughed.  "Isn't that why you 
allowed me to possess you in the first place?  So you 
can actually win a battle?"  

  "Maybe," she conceded, "but I realized how cheap it 
was.  I'm not winning any battles; you are."  

  "True."  

  "The only difference between the pretty boy and me 
is he's got ten years head start," Shizuka reasoned.  

  "No, it's because you don't pay attention," Deathclaw 
pointed out coldly, finding the fact somewhat amusing.  
"Humans such as Ranma can make up those type of 
deficiencies in a matter of days; you can't, because, 
frankly, you don't have any talent."  

  "Shut up, dragon breath."  

  A sudden rush of wind blasted Shizuka from behind, 
throwing her hair in a tangle over her shoulder and 
in her face.  Startled, the priestess of Genbu turned 
around, and her eyes narrowed in disgust.  The blast 
of wind dissipated, spiraling out of existence around 
the young man, dressed in a plain T-shirt two sizes too 
large, and loose, baggy jeans large enough to cover 
most of his loafers.  The newcomer held an unfolded 
rising sun fan over his breast, and snapped it shut 
quickly, then tipped the edge of his baseball cap up.  

  "Always know how to make an entrance, Ziel?" Shizuka 
snorted.  

  Chuckling to himself, 'Ziel' Kagura, the so-called 
'personal assassin' for Shion, flipped his folded fan 
over his shoulder, and caught it behind his back.  "You 
never change, do you, Shizuka?  That was absolutely 
pathetic."  

  "Spare me the nonsense, and get to the point," she 
snapped angrily.  "What d'you want?"  

  "There's word going around in the underworld," Ziel 
explained, putting on a serious face, "that Nekurow is 
coming to town."  

  "Nekurow?  Wh... no, wait, I think I know."  Shizuka 
lowered her head thoughtfully.  The man in black known 
as Nekurow was infamous among demon hunters; it was he 
who dedicated his life to hunting down Zhou Tian-long, 
otherwise known as Star Crusher, or Sypha Blade, most 
commonly.  It was more than obvious that nobody was a 
match for Sypha, but Nekurow would hear none of it.  
Now that Sypha returned to her home out of her own free 
will, however, the swordsman's motives were unclear.  

  One thing was for certain... Nekurow did not see any 
spirit as belonging to this Earth.  

  "Someone tipped him off, I think," Ziel continued.  
"He probably heard that a certain, ancient ghost dragon 
is walking the earth again...."  

  "Blah, blah, blah," she interrupted.  "Great.  Shit.  
I knew there was a bad part to this deal."  

  Shizuka looked back at Ziel, looking deep into his 
dark eyes.  "Did Shion put you up to this?"  

  "What do you think?" he replied.  "I don't have time 
to waste on little girls like you.  Of course I'm 
getting paid."  

  Taking two strong, deliberate steps in Ziel's 
direction, she lashed out quickly, like the snake that 
was her symbol, and grabbed him by the scruff of his 
shirt.  "Listen, pal," she said, her voice a deep, 
threatening blade, "the only one who's protecting me is 
me.  I'll have to talk to Shion myself later, but, as 
for you, buzz off."  

  Releasing her grip, Ziel took a step back, his gaze 
impassive.  "Fine, we'll play it your way... for now."  
Flicking his wrist, Ziel's fan opened all the way.  
"But let's face it-- you couldn't fight your way out of 
a paper bag.  You won't be able to shoot him even if 
you wanted to.  You're just a dabbler."  

  Raising his fan high, the young man waved it in a 
semi-circle in front of him, summoning a spiral of 
wind.  Shizuka raised her arm to her eyes, against the 
dust kicked up off the streets, and soon, Ziel was 
gone.  

  Lowering her arm, her eyes looked to the skies.  "I 
don't need your help!" she cried.  

* * * 

Tendo Household, Nerima 

  "She chewed me out," Nabiki read on the desk monitor, 
receiving the real-time information through the network 
from her boss.  "Not that I didn't expect it."  

  "You're hopeless," she typed back on her keyboard.  
Although it has not been long since she was forced to 
become acquainted with the more savvy features of 
computers, the pay she was receiving as a result was 
definitely worth it.  It was fate that she breached 
Shion Kagami's Inner Circle, and, instead of punishing 
her for it, Shion offered her a job in his little crime 
ring.  Not only was she learning the ropes of how to 
carry out business, Nabiki, as well as other members of 
the ring, served as the boss's ear for his love life 
problems with the most annoying traveling circus in 
Japan.  People such as Shampoo and Ukyo were at least 
good for business; Shizuka had 'Problem' written all 
over her, particularly since she always cops an 
attitude around Nabiki.  

  Shion, under his underworld moniker of 'Warlock,' 
replied, "Well, I'm damned if I do, and damned if I 
don't.  I don't understand women."  

  "No, you just don't understand HER," Nabiki 
corrected.  "She's NOTHING like a real woman."  

  A long pause.  Nabiki leaned back in her seat, and 
folded her arms, tapping on her right arm while waiting 
for a response.  She rolled her head back, lazily 
eyeing the shut door of her room, and allowed her 
other senses to tell her what was happening outside.  
She could make out the voices of her younger sister, 
and of Ranma... both walking past the door, saying 
some sort of nonsense about school.  It was that moment 
Nabiki remembered she was supposed to be studying for 
her entrance exams... but the enticement of money was 
within reach.  

  Finally, Shion answered with: "If you hear word of 
Nekurow, let me know.  Black hat, black knee-length 
coat, long sword.  Sunglasses all the time, even 
indoors.  Can't miss him."  

  "How much?" Nabiki replied, money still on her mind.  

  "Do your job, and we'll see about wiring you your 
pay," Shion typed back quickly, seemingly a canned 
response.  "I can't handle this personally; I've got 
to go to my sister's tennis match across country," he 
added, referring to Chika, Shion's other personal 
apprentice.  

  Nabiki sighed at the mention of Chika.  It was no 
secret that Nabiki was Shion's 'pet project,' which 
seemed to put Chika at odds with her.  For the first 
few weeks of her new job Nabiki wondered if there was 
going to be a schism, but, thanks to Chika's other 
interests, this seemed to be a non-issue.  Despite 
that Nabiki could not help but see her as a potential 
rival for when Shion finally stepped down.  

  Of course, the Inner Circle's chain of command was 
rather small, and very stretched-out at the moment.  
Shion and Chika were leaving town for a few days, Kanna 
Rajura is 'vacationing' in China, and most of the other 
Inner Circle members had no interest in leading.  In 
which case Nabiki would have the most control by 
default, but that did not preclude the chance of others 
intervening-- such as Ziel Kagura or Ayame Mishima.  

  "I'll see what I can do," she promised, not allowing 
herself to commit either way.  

* * * 

Nerima Market Street 

  No witnesses, she noted, as the priestess of Genbu 
walked alone on the sidewalk, passing by closed shops 
in the midst of the night.  The occasional street 
light illuminated her path, as most people were asleep 
or away.  The best time to attack anyone was when 
nobody was looking.  

  It was precisely what Shizuka wanted.  

  She kept her eyes shut, eliminating the visual 
distractions, and focused on her hearing.  Although she 
could barely hear anything over the sound of her small 
footsteps Shizuka barely detected movements... that of 
random flies zipping by her head, or the distant roars 
of the more frequented streets' cars.  Of her opponent 
she could make out no sound.  

  That, at least, meant Nekurow deserved his reputation 
as the greatest demon hunter.  His quarry literally 
didn't know what hit them until it was too late; 
however, unlike any random beast Shizuka was ready for 
him.  

  Although his target was most likely Deathclaw, 
Shizuka knew that Nekurow wouldn't care if she got in 
the way of that.  Killing Deathclaw equated her own 
death due to a forgotten, ancient curse... or rather, 
it was the other way around-- Deathclaw could not be 
killed unless Shizuka died.  Not that it mattered 
either way... both ways of looking at it turned up the 
same result.  

  Of course, Shizuka sided with the latter view.  She 
preferred to have had a choice in her own demise 
rather than having it decided for her, as much of her 
life was.  

  She kept a hand on one of the handles of the Viper 
Swords at her left side, ready to draw on a moment's 
notice.  Both weapons belonged to Mizuki's family, 
traced as far back to a ronin living during the 
Tokugawa Shogunate... but perhaps they were taken by 
that Shimozuki off another warrior.  In any case, the 
swords were at least three-hundred years old, and 
somewhat of an heirloom, but they were swords 
nonetheless.  Not using them would prove to be a 
disservice, as modern swords are usually not as 
reliable.  On the other hand, it didn't matter if the 
newer ones broke, either.  

  It was technically illegal for Shizuka to be walking 
around with swords so openly, but no one, no matter 
where she went, had the balls to try and rectify that.  

  She stopped suddenly, instantly reaching to draw her 
swords.  Holding them underhanded like the fangs of a 
viper, Shizuka tensed herself, throwing her eyes open.  

  Flipping the swords overhand quickly, she threw her 
arms back, just in time for her crossed blades to catch 
the overhead slice from behind.  She felt the weight 
behind the other blade, knowing for certain she had 
underestimated Nekurow's ability.  

  "Okay, fine," she muttered, "so you guys aren't as 
weak as I am."  

  Nekurow pulled his blade back, allowing Shizuka the 
time to spin around to face her opponent.  The man 
dressed in black wore a demonic Noh mask over his face, 
perhaps in some sort of deranged parody.  His sword, 
a sturdy-looking polished katana, seemed to glow with 
excess energies.  Shizuka spied the serpentine dragon 
etched on the blade's flat, and struggled to remember 
where she had seen such a design before.  

  "At last," Nekurow said, his voice rumbling with 
anticipation, "a worthy challenge!"  

  "Trying to pattern me?" the priestess taunted.  "I 
can see through your cheap tricks.  They might work on 
the feebleminded, but you're dealing with your own 
kind now."  

  "And yet you allowed yourself to become possessed," 
Nekurow pointed out, gripping his sword with both 
hands tightly.  "To the ancient ghost dragon, at that!  
You are no better than those we seek to destroy!"  

  "Bah," she scoffed.  "I've got a life outside killing 
things."  Shizuka rolled her blades back to underhand, 
holding her arms low at her sides, as if leaving 
herself open purposefully.  "I'll beat you without 
awakening Deathclaw!"  

  She rushed her opponent, her arms trailing behind, 
intent on getting in the first hit.  Quickly closing 
striking distance Shizuka spun around, with her arms 
extended, aiming to circular slash Nekurow.  The black 
hunter, however, did not stand his ground, and instead 
hopped back, out of striking distance, and lunged with 
his own blade.  Shizuka ended her spin in time to 
deflect the blow with her left blade-- but her 
strength was too little to force the blade away, and 
instead she fell against the superior force.  

  Scrambling back away in a roll just moments before 
Nekurow's second thrust pierced her Shizuka got back to 
her feet, considering throwing away for her shotgun.  
Before the decision could be made Nekurow rushed her, 
and it was all she could do but parry the heavy 
swings with crossed blades.  

  This isn't working, she realized, taking several 
large, involuntary steps back, against the force of 
Nekurow's swings.  

  The next swing, however, caught Shizuka by surprise.  
Instead of a vertical arcing slash Nekurow swept from 
left to right, tearing both swords out of Shizuka's 
hands.  Nekurow's blade was already at her throat when 
she heard the both of them clatter on the street, and 
her heart raced.  She stared at the demonic mask 
staring back at her, wondering how such a man could be 
such a monster.  

  "Playtime's over," Nekurow announced.  

  Despite her impending fate Shizuka kept her eyes wide 
open, and, had she not, she would have missed sight of 
Nekurow losing steady control of his blade.  It wavered 
to the side, as if a strong wind were pushing against 
it, and soon the weapon itself was ripped out of 
Nekurow's hands.  

  Another rush of wind blasted Shizuka from the side, 
marking Ziel Kagura's timely entrance to the battle.  

  "So," Nekurow said, "you're the other one."  
���2 "Other one?" Ziel echoed, slightly confused.  "Oh, 
you mean you're after me, too?  You're a little 
outclassed there, pal."  

  "I wasn't ready to fight a Wind-User," Nekurow 
admitted, slowly edging his way to his fallen blade.  
"I won't make that mistake the next time."  

  "That would only be if there is a next time!" Ziel 
thundered, unfolding his fan.  

  Nekurow dived and rolled for his sword, quickly 
retrieving it and narrowly avoiding Ziel's wind column 
spiral.  Shizuka saw the black hunter reach into his 
coat, and throw several small spheres.  Raising her 
sleeve to her mouth and turning her eyes away the 
spheres exploded into dark smoke, swirling about 
quickly thanks to the rush of wind.  

  Lasting for only a few seconds, the smoke was carried 
up and away from the street thanks to Ziel's wind, 
and Nekurow was nowhere to be seen.  

  Shizuka sighed in relief, walking to the nearest 
store wall, and collapsed against it, allowing her 
back to slide down until she was sitting.  Ziel, for 
his part, stood against the wall to her left, propping 
his right foot against the wall and his hands behind 
his back, as if waiting for something to happen.  

  "I thought I told you I could handle it," Shizuka 
said, giving the Wind-User the desired response.  

  "It's what I'm paid for," he replied, seemingly 
bored.  He tossed his fan up in the air, and caught it 
with his other hand.  Ziel lowered himself down next 
to Shizuka, and stared straight ahead to the other end 
of the street.  "Stubborn bitch, he could've wasted 
you whenever he wanted.  He was playing with you."  

  "You didn't think I knew that?" Shizuka snarled.  
"He wants to awaken Deathclaw, and kill him.  So long 
as I don't do that, I think I'm fine."  

  "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," Ziel 
said, in his canned response.  

  Shizuka chuckled to herself, relaxing her expression.  
She held out her right fist to Ziel, which he returned 
by hitting it over with his own fist.  "I'm such a 
pig-headed idiot, huh?"  

  "You're welcome."  

* * * 

Front Entrance, Furinkan High-- Day 5 of Stage One 

  The talk of the town spread like wildfire throughout 
the schoolyard.  The point of origin was one student, 
who happened to live in the market district, and was 
awakened by noise the previous night-- the sound of 
swords clashing.  From there it passed to friends, and 
then to classmates; soon everybody at school, student 
and teacher, knew of the midnight attack.  

  Ranma had heard the story at least seven times by 
the time school was out, and Akane, beside him, heard 
it four times from her girl friends.  

  "Sounds familiar, doesn't it?" Ranma said, as the two 
walked out the front gates, rubbing his chin.  

  Akane nodded, looking away from Ranma.  "It's 
probably Shizuka again."  

  Ranma sighed heavily, shaking his head.  "Doesn't she 
ever go home?"  

  He ran across the demon-hunting Priestess of Genbu a 
number of times in the past.  Hailing from Kyoto, 
Shizuka found all sorts of reasons to be anywhere in 
the country doing all sorts of odd jobs, but lately she 
holed herself in the Tokyo area, recognizing a strong 
concentration of supernatural forces in the area.  
While that was partially his own fault, as, for quite 
some time, Ranma attracted a lot of weird people, 
Shizuka herself attracted that same type of bad 
attention.  Or rather, attention attracted Shizuka, 
which in turn happened to be attracted to Ranma.  

  And yet, Ranma refused to believe her being here was 
his problem, but somehow it always eventually did.  It 
was only a matter of time....  

  The others that came because of him went home, and 
Ranma somehow missed their attention.  Shampoo and 
Mousse... even the old hag, were long gone, called back 
home to fight a few battles on their own turf.  Ryoga 
ceased traveling when he settled down with Akari, and 
it was only rarely that he would come into town, lost 
as usual.  Tatewaki graduated high school, and 
apparently deluded himself into believing that he 
doesn't need to 'prove himself' to Ranma; Ranma knew 
it was only because the upperclassman couldn't harass 
him on a daily basis anymore.  Ukyo finally sorted out 
her feelings, and went home, taking her shop with her 
in order to help take care of her family.  The latter 
was what Ranma regretted most.  

  Of course, there were others that simply didn't go 
away.  Kodachi and Miranda both attended rival schools, 
and they appeared every once in a while whenever there 
was a district-wide school athletics competition.  The 
two girls bore personal rivalry between each other, 
but Miranda also posed a threat to Ranma.  In their 
last fight she barely won, and egotistically lorded 
over Ranma every chance she got, and utterly refused 
to rematch-- probably in fear of being dethroned and 
losing her fan club.  It was only a fluke that she won, 
after all.  

  Kodachi herself was no match for Ranma, but it 
annoyed him that she was steadily-building her own 
group of fan girls.  One of them, Ayame, was being 
groomed personally by Kodachi, and she treated Kodachi 
like some sort of queen, which disgusted Ranma fully.  
The other biggie was a mediocre tennis player and film 
student, Chika, who seemed to turn up at every scandal 
in town; Ranma remembered her particularly for her jobs 
done commissioned by Kodachi.  It was like having a 
female Gosunkugi, but worse-- she was somewhat 
competent.  

  Then there's Shizuka.  It was far worse than having 
competent opponents: she is a walking disaster and is 
notoriously incompetent.  She obviously wasn't too bad 
if she still gets paid to go all over the place, but 
at times Ranma wondered how she got into her line of 
work in the first place, or why she's still alive.  
For more times than he can count Ranma knew that, every 
time Shizuka was in town, he had to keep her out of 
trouble.  She never, ever, thanked Ranma for his good 
deeds, and always insulted him whenever she got the 
chance.  Sometimes he wondered why he bothered.  

  "Ranma..." Akane started to say, but Ranma already 
knew what it was.  

  "I know, I know," he interrupted, nodding twice in 
succession.  "Maybe after dinner.  Maybe I can get her 
to pay me this time."  

  Although Ranma always mentioned it every time the 
subject came up, this time Akane did not respond; it 
seems that she, too, was getting used to the routine.  
Or, if that was not the case, she was getting just as 
tired of the resident chaos-bringer as Ranma was.  

* * * 

Tendo Dojo, Tendo House 

  The man sitting across the floor was dressed 
entirely in black, his black scabbard at his right on 
the clean wooden floor.  Ranma studied the black-coat 
swordsman suspiciously, his mind wondering if this was 
the one responsible for the sword play the previous 
night.  

  Nekurow, as he introduced himself, approached the 
household shortly after dinner, and just before Ranma 
was to head out to bring in Shizuka.  The swordsman was 
dressed all in black, from hat, to glasses, to coat, to 
sword sheath, to boots.  He sat silently, opposing 
Ranma, Akane at his right, and his father and father- 
in-law on the left.  

  "There is a matter," the visitor began, speaking in 
a low, hardened tone, "which may require your 
assistance.  I was directed to your dojo when I 
inquired as to dealing with... demons."  

  Mentally, Ranma congratulated himself, but remained 
impassive.  

  "Well," Soun Tendo said, assuming a stuffy tone, 
"you've come to the right place."  

  "There is one creature in particular which wanders 
your streets," the black hunter explained, his voice 
slyly working its charm through both older martial 
artists.  "Long ago, this creature was sealed, and it 
wanders the earth as a ghost.  Over the millennia it 
has taken possession of a number of individuals, all in 
a mad quest to release itself from its curse of 
everlasting living death.  Even now that creature 
stalks Tokyo, searching for the souls of purity in 
which to undo its curse."  

  Although the story sounded similar, Ranma knew that 
the swordsman was lying; Shizuka related nearly the 
same story about Deathclaw, but it had nothing to do 
with souls.  He looked toward Akane, who remained 
unflinching, but her hands rolled into tight fists, as 
if to restrain herself.  

  "This creature is currently possessing a young lady 
who bears two swords," Nekurow continued, further 
confirming Ranma's suspicions.  "She travels at night, 
stalking victims, and plans on whose soul to take for 
the harvest.  On the previous night I encountered this 
demon, and it successfully thwarted my attempts to 
subdue it... as the demon is not alone."  

  "I see," Soun replied.  "One of your ability should 
have no problem with such a demon...."  

  "Unless there was another of equal ability acting 
with it," finished Genma.  "So you need my boy to help 
you."  

  "Hey!" Ranma cried, hiizukes rushing toward his 
father.  "Don't volunteer me for these things!"  

  "Yet you are the reason I have come," Nekurow said.  
"Your reputation suggests that your ability surpasses 
your instructors.  The demon and its assistant are no 
mere minor annoyances, but major threats to humanity."  

  Ranma lowered his eyes, grinding his teeth together, 
and focused on his knuckles down on his knees.  This 
black hunter was obviously describing Shizuka, and 
certain facts were conflicting... but he never knew the 
girl to act in accordance with others.  It made no 
sense for two demon hunters to fight each other... 
unless it had something to do with the second demon.  
That had to be it.  

  He tore his eyes from the floor, and realized that 
Akane was watching him.  Ranma had no idea if it was 
concern, or if she expected him to turn down Nekurow.  
He had no idea what to expect out of himself, even; 
Nekurow was asking him to bring down the girl he was 
thinking about keeping an eye out for.  On the other 
hand, if Shizuka really did get in over her head this 
time, helping Nekurow would equate helping Shizuka....  

  Focusing his eyes on Nekurow, he answered, "This 
won't take long, will it?"  

  Nekurow's head lowered slightly, and he smiled 
slyly.  Ranma didn't like the look of it.  "Then it is 
agreed," he proclaimed.  "You will be compensated 
half up-front, with the other half after the demons are 
taken care of."  

  Monetary compensation, however, was the last thing on 
Ranma's mind.  

* * * 

  Nabiki pulled herself from the wall nearest the open 
door of the dojo, her arms folded, and walked away 
silently.  

  On the one hand, she could tip off Ziel, and then 
he'd try to intercept the two before they got anywhere 
near Shizuka.  Of course, that would put her at odds 
with Ranma again, which seemed a bit dirty.  On the 
other hand, she could simply ignore what she heard, 
and let Shizuka handle her own problems.  After all, 
Nabiki had no lose dave for the priestess of Genbu, 
and the feeling was reciprocated.  Then again, she was 
also the boss's girlfriend-- Nabiki imagined him 
denying it again-- and tipping Ziel would score points 
in the organization.  

  She shook her head, wondering when she stopped 
thinking about such matters in terms of money.  There 
had to be a way to make at least a few bucks off this 
situation.  After all, Nabiki Tendo had an image to 
maintain.  

  Well, in either case, she decided, it was best to 
figure out which outcome to work toward, then figure 
out how to profit from it.  

  More importantly-- was it worth losing her job in 
order to get rid of Shizuka for good?  The last time 
Nabiki attempted to get rid of the annoying priestess 
her plan backfired, and gave more incentive for 
Shizuka to come to town when she inadvertently met 
Shion.  Even though both of them deny any sort of 
relationship other than 'friends' Nabiki knew it was 
her fault they got to know each other, as she had not 
counted on the King of the Mercs having a conscience.  

  Yet, what was the worst that could happen?  Nobody 
would know if Nabiki did nothing to warn Ziel or 
Shizuka about the double-team, and nobody would blame 
her for it, either.  At worst Shizuka and/or Ziel 
would be dead, but that's their problem.  At best one 
or both will be out of the way for good, and Nabiki 
can continue to leech control of the Inner Circle as 
planned.  It was only a matter of time before Shion 
left the organization for good, after all.  

  Nabiki struggled to come up with a reason to tip-off 
Ziel when she realized she made her way back to her 
room.  She laid out on her bed, arms folded behind her 
head and sandwiched between that and her pillow, and 
stared at the ceiling.  The only thing that came to 
mind was: "It would be the right thing to do."  

  She discarded the idea immediately.  After all, it 
was something Nabiki Tendo simply didn't do.  

* * * 

Central Park-- Day 9 of Stage On�5
  It went without saying that Shizuka could be 
difficult to find when she didn't want to be found.  

  Ever since that night Ranma spent his free time 
actively searching for the elusive priestess of Genbu, 
and was instructed to warn Nekurow when he did find 
her.  He kept his hand on the palm-sized trigger in 
his pocket, hesitating to press it as he approached 
the girl sitting by the fountain at the center of the 
park.  

  The most immediate fact was that she was nervous, 
sitting with her hands on her knees, and her left foot 
twitching impatiently.  Shizuka's eyes were watching 
the birds, and ears immersed by the sound of the rush 
of water, but Ranma knew it was only a facade; she was 
far more alert than this.  It seemed too fake to see 
Shizuka-- hyperactive person that she is-- doing 
absolutely nothing in the park, after all.  

  As a matter of fact, it was fake; Shizuka had been 
in hiding for the past five days since the attack.  No 
one, not even her cousin, who lived in town, knew where 
she went, and Ranma effectively hit a dead end.  He 
considered finding a way to summon Hokuto, so she could 
find Shizuka for him, but nixed the idea, remembering 
her weird tastes in romantics.  He had no intention of 
putting up with that mess anytime soon.  

  Word got out on the street that Ranma was actually 
looking for Shizuka, and someone who knew her 
eventually passed the word to her, it seemed.  She 
called earlier that day on the phone, requesting he 
come in person to a very public location.  When he 
named the place she only gave an affirmative, the time 
to meet, and hung up the phone.  

  Ranma had no intention of tipping-off Nekurow until 
he heard Shizuka's side of the story.  

  He sat a meter away from the nervous girl, not 
wishing to get too close.  Shizuka, for her part, 
maintained her false demeanor, and did not look toward 
him.  Yet, he noted the single-barreled shotgun slung 
over her right shoulder, with a full rack of shotgun not ells mounted atop it.  Her left hand inched ever so 
slightly toward the two swords sheathed at her side.  
Taking the hint, Ranma's eyes scanned to find 
something to busy his visual feast.  

  "Make it quick," he heard her say, sharp and quick.  

  "You got in a fight a few days ago, didn't you?" 
Ranma asked, staring up at the afternoon clouds.  He 
picked out a formation that resembled a horse, and 
stuck with it.  "I'm wondering what you're doing."  

  "Don't try to protect me," Shizuka hissed.  "I've 
already got problems putting up with the other one."  

  Ranma sighed, unable to discern what she was talking 
about.  The horse's body seemed to elongate in his 
eyes.  

  "You saw him, didn't you?" she asked suddenly.  "He 
put you up to this, didn't he?"  

  "Who?"  The cloud formation seemed to break in two.  

  "Nekurow, the dark hunter."  

  Startled, Ranma lost focus on the clouds, and 
directly eyed Shizuka.  "If you knew that, then why'd 
you come out here?"  

  "I'm through hiding," she declared, her voice 
backed more by determination rather than weariness.  
She raised a clenched fist, discarding her false 
demeanor.  "If I don't face him now he's just going to 
chase me down for the rest of my life.  Actually, he 
doesn't care about me; he wants Deathclaw, but the 
problem is, I couldn't hand him over even if I wanted 
to.  So I'm figuring he won't mind taking me out, too."  

  Ranma felt a presence behind him, and jumped away 
from Shizuka as she quickly spun about, one sword 
drawn, in time to deflect a slash from behind.  The 
dragon blade of Nekurow reached all the way to the 
dark one standing atop the fountain, the water rushing 
against his dark coat.  

  "I commend you for drawing her out," Nekurow said 
quickly, keeping his eyes on Shizuka as she scrambled 
away from the fountain.  "Now, the other comes.  Deal 
with him."  

  Ranma produced the transmitter in his pocket, and 
stared at it for several heartbeats.  He knew he didn't 
activate it....  

  Bystanders cleared the park as the two combatants 
clashed swords, with Shizuka having brought out her 
second blade to keep pace.  Ranma watched as she 
parried with crossed blades, and knew she was no match 
for Nekurow.  

  Before he decided to intervene, a rush of wind 
violently spiraled into existence.  Ranma braced 
himself against the sudden blast, knowing it came from 
above.  Holding his arm to his eyes to shield from 
the dust, he scanned the area for the new attacker, 
suddenly feeling his presence behind him.  

  "I don't believe we've met, lackey," the newcomer 
said, dressed in a plain baggy T-shirt and jeans.  He 
wore an unmarked, plain baseball cap over his head, 
with a slightly darkened part where some kind of logo 
patch used to be, and held a rising sun fan over his 
face.  Snapping it shut, Ranma knew that this was the 
one Nekurow was having trouble with.  

  "What're you to this?" the martial artist asked.  

  "Ziel Kagura, the Wind-User!" the newcomer proclaimed 
proudly.  He thrust his folded fan in Ranma's 
direction.  "Your paltry rising dragon wave doesn't 
mean a damn thing to my power!"  

  "Oh, so you've looked me up?" Ranma replied, feeling 
cocky.  He tensed himself for combat.  "Knowing is a 
whole lot different than experiencing!"  

  Ranma took the initiative, and powered for his first 
blow with his right fist.  Rushing the opponent, Ranma 
threw the first punch, intending to wipe off the 
haughty grin from Ziel's face.  

  But mere centimeters from the opponent's face 
Ranma's fist met with high resistance.  His blow, 
throwing much into a knock-out punch, seemed to hit 
some sort of elastic barrier just around Ziel's body.  

  "What the...?" was all he could exclaim before the 
invisible barrier turned the tables on him, and flung 
Ranma backward with an equally strong force as his 
punch.  He tucked and rolled into a ball upon hitting 
the ground, and somersaulted back to his feet in 
as 
smooth motion.  

  Ziel's expression turned into an amused smile.  

  "I'm gonna wipe that silly grin off your face, pal!" 
Ranma vowed, moving in for another punch.  

  Moving with swift motion Ranma maneuvered himself 
purposefully; he rushed Ziel head-on again.  This time 
he shifted to the left, and wheeled his right leg for 
a kick behind the head.  Again, his body met with 
resistance, as the barrier once again prevented Ranma 
from making contact with Ziel.  Not wishing to repeat 
the same mistake as before Ranma planted his other 
leg against the barrier, and used the push to spring 
his way in a controlled fashion.  

  Landing several meters away, Ranma looked back, and 
saw Ziel laughing.  

  This guy's no joke, Ranma decided.  Even though he 
doesn't look like a martial artist this guy's got his 
bases covered.  He hasn't lifted a finger, and I still 
haven't touched him yet....  

  Ranma looked at his right hand, balling it into a 
fist.  For several quick seconds he studied the first 
limb to fall victim to Ziel's barrier, and noticed 
several slight burn-marks across it.  The pattern 
looked chaotic, but it was made up of strokes from one 
side to the other, in varying lengths and directions.  

  Wind-User.  Yes, of course!  He's controlling the 
air around him to form a protective barrier.  It's not 
just any static barrier, but it's probably a wind 
column.  

  The moment the realization hit him, Ranma felt the 
air beneath him spiral around his body.  Instinct 
took over as the martial artist leaped out of the 
way, just in time to avoid the new wind column that 
erupted where he was standing.  

  Glancing at Ziel, he noted that the fan he was 
holding was open in his outstretched hand.  

  It's the fan, he realized.  He's controlling the 
wind with his fan... so how am I going to get that off 
him?  

  Waving his fan in arcing motions, Ranma saw thin 
blades of air slice through the air from Ziel, and it 
was all for Ranma to do to dodge them.  One zipped 
under his left arm, while a second grazed his right 
leg.  

  "That's trash I can handle," Ranma muttered under 
his breath, glad he recognized the wind blades in 
time.  

  "Don't try too hard," warned Ziel.  "I know your 
strengths.  You think better on your feet, when you 
can formulate your plans to beat even the most 
dangerous enemy.  I won't make the same mistakes as 
the others."  

  "That's big talk!" Ranma shouted back.  "I've beaten 
everything from low-grade swordsmen to demi-gods; don't 
think some arrogant wimp like you can take me on!"  

  "I watched you fight Kanna Rajura," he continued.  
"You're barely able to keep up with a planner, but I 
don't need such things to win."  

  "I don't care.  All I care about is wasting you."  

  Ziel raised the fan closer to his face, concealing 
his smile. "Be my guest!"  

  The Wind-User threw his arms out wide, and Ranma 
noted that stray garbage farther from what the 
personal spiral shield's range should be began to spin 
around, picked up by wind.  Knowing that the barrier 
was only expanding Ranma took several steps back, then 
larger steps, only to be overtaken by the spiral wind 
within moments.  The martial artist pushed himself 
against Ziel's barrier, digging his feet into the 
ground, but no force of his own could compete against 
the elemental attack.  His body went numb as the air 
around him turned cold, and he barely felt the wind 
slice at his shirt and arms.  

  I've got to get in, Ranma knew, but the force of the 
barrier was too strong to push against.  

  Ziel laughed, bringing his fan to wave himself 
calmly.  "Fool, you're a hundred years too early to 
beat me!"  

* * * 

  "Come, and awaken, dragon!" Nekurow cried, hammering 
Shizuka's crossed blades with zealous fury.  "Show me 
your true power!"  

  Shizuka felt the urge to give the dark one the 
birdie, but her hands were tied.  It was far too late 
to conjure a spell, or summon a beast, now that she 
committed herself to her swords.  Again, she cursed 
her lack of training.  

  The weight of the dragon blade against her arms 
became heavier with each swing, but Shizuka knew it 
was only herself who was changing in strength; Nekurow 
was pacing himself with such light blows.  He honestly 
wanted to fight Deathclaw, she reminded herself.  

  "Tough luck, pal," Shizuka hissed angrily.  "The only 
one you're tackling is me!"  

  Just as Nekurow's next swing came down Shizuka 
quickly dropped to the ground, flat on her back, then 
rolled to her left.  She felt the air slice the ground 
behind her, knowing the dragon blade was, for the 
moment, buried in the ground.  Using the time to 
reorient her position Shizuka leaped back to her feet, 
quickly running the length of her right sword back 
into its sheath.  Her hand was already up her left 
sleeve as Nekurow pulled his weapon free, throwing up 
large clumps of dirt in the air.  

  The wind picked up around the park-turned- 
battlefield, and Shizuka's hair whipped around her to 
the side.  Annoyed that her sleeve was also being 
pulled away from her from the blast she only had 
enough time to find two steel cards before Nekurow 
raised his sword and charged.  Throwing her arm up and 
back over her head in a wide arc Shizuka let loose both 
her piercing projectiles, cutting through the wind 
force at great speed.  

  Nekurow slowed his charge, lowering his blade to 
deflect one card as the other sliced through his 
black coat.  Staggering back momentarily Shizuka took 
advantage of the dark hunter's minor distraction, 
reaching over her back to bring her shotgun to bear.  

  One shot, she reminded herself.  The shotgun was 
always pre-loaded with a single shot, and must be 
manually-reloaded using both hands to fire more; it was 
the obvious disadvantage of a non-automatic shotgun.  
If she did it right, one shot was all she needed.  

  Hastily taking aim with her outstretched right arm, 
Shizuka squeezed the trigger.  

  Cursing her slow reaction the shotgun was torn out 
of her hands, and was sent spiraling over her 
head; the discharged shot harmlessly pierced the air 
at a high angle when Nekurow's blade flat rose under 
it.  The moment the sword raised high Nekurow 
released the grip of his left hand, and threw it 
outward, palm open.  A thick black tendril burst from 
within his dark sleeve, quickly lashing around 
Shizuka's right arm and binding it tight.  

  Struggling against the strength and pull of the new 
black whip, Shizuka stood with only her left sword, 
and Nekurow, with sword in right, and whip in left.  

  "You'll never match me," Nekurow announced, 
disappointed.  

  "Stop cheating!" complained Shizuka.  "Where's the 
honor in cheap shots like this?"  

  "Cheating?"  The hunter chuckled to himself.  "I 
fight far more fairly than your associates.  All is 
fair in a fight to the death!"  

  "I bet you get your highs on beating up weak 
people," she hissed, understanding, completely, that 
she couldn't hope to compete with this opponent on an 
even playing field.  

  Ignoring her bound arm, Shizuka charged, her sword 
arm out wide for a head swing.  

  Nekurow, slightly surprised that Shizuka would do 
such a reckless act, pulled his sword arm close to his 
body, and swung outward.  

  Splinters of metal flew everywhere as a blade was 
shattered near its base, sending the broken sword point 
spiraling in the air.  Unnoticed to either combatant 
it embedded thoroughly into the earth, untouchable to 
the ripping wind around them.  

  Shizuka collapsed to her knees, defeated, with the 
broken sword in her hand, and Nekurow's blade at the 
left of her throat.  She barely felt the presence of 
Death looming over her; her attention was completely 
on the shattered blade in her hand.  

  She remembered Mizuki once used this sword when she 
was personally training Shizuka to succeed her duties.  
She remembered the day after Mizuki failed in her 
trials, that she would never again strike down a demon 
with the sword.  It was this sword that Mizuki gave 
to Shizuka that reminded her that her elder was always 
there to protect her.  

  Mizuki was there to protect her no longer, and the 
twin of Shizuka's own Viper sword was destroyed.  

  She began to laugh.  

  Towering over her, Nekurow, annoyed, demanded, 
"What's so funny?!"  

  "You fool," she replied, a sinister tone in her 
voice.  "Death stalks you!"  

  Before Nekurow could act, Shizuka threw her head 
against the ground violently.  Her head bounced off 
the ground slightly, as expected, and the pain rushed 
through her and consumed her.  Smiling bitterly, the 
priestess of Genbu, defeated, felt her consciousness 
slipping....  

  ...and that of another awakening.  

* * * 

  The answer was so simple, Ranma decided, as he 
resisted a strong gale of force from Ziel's fan.  The 
spiral doesn't ever seem to affect Ziel, because he's 
standing right in the middle of it.  Every other 
spiral he creates has too small an eye to survive its 
storm, so the only way I'm getting in is to get 
through to the eye of the storm.  

  Which meant, of course, that the only true opening 
in Ziel's defense was an attack from above.  

  Dodging a series of wind blades, Ranma contemplated 
on how he could ascend to such a height without 
hurting himself.  Ziel again waved his fan, whipping 
out another wind column from under the martial artist, 
allowing him just scant moments to escape the blast.  

  That should be more than enough! Ranma realized.  I 
only need a second....  

  The next wind column that erupted ended with Ranma 
still remaining on top of it, purposefully.  

  Contact with the icy wind, Ranma knew, could hurt 
him over a prolonged period of time, judging from his 
contact with Ziel's shield.  Ziel created his own 
weakness in his attack pattern, because the wind 
columns blast opponents in a vertical direction.  What 
he intends is for the blast to send people into an 
uncontrollable flight, but a controlled flight would 
give Ranma enough direction to make a descent.  His 
own personal experience with the Hiryu Shoten Ha gave 
him an edge others didn't: Ranma knew how to ascend 
the column.  

  He felt the wind catapult him up into the air, and 
Ranma guestimated the opening of the spiral column 
around Ziel.  Narrowly picking out the spinning dust 
and dirt Ranma oriented himself downward, focusing 
his energies in a dropping kick attack.  

  Ziel remained unmoved, however, and only stared 
upward impassively.  Holding his fan up high over his 
head, the Wind-User waved his arm in a circular 
motion.  

  Before Ranma could descend the spiral column he felt 
a rush of wind rise quickly into the air.  He suddenly 
realized why Ziel wasn't concerned; the martial artist 
miscalculated the extent which Ziel could defend 
himself.  

  It was too damn obvious, Ranma realized, as the icy 
wind ripped his body apart.  

  Numbness overtook him, and the biting cold tugged at 
Ranma's life force.  Soon he could feel nothing at 
all-- save for the gravity pulling him back down to 
earth at velocity.  Even that feeling went away, and 
Ranma could not feel his impact, nor any other 
feeling as the wind died down.  

  Ziel stood over his defeated opponent, snapping his 
fan shut.  Aching all over his body as the warmness 
restored him, Ranma barely heard the Wind-User say, 
"A pureblood like you can't compare to my demonic 
lineage.  Absolutely pathetic; I was expecting more 
out of you than this."  

  "Hah," Ranma snorted, struggling to get back to his 
feet, but failing miserably.  He lay collapsed in his 
self-created crater, staring at Ziel's feet.  

  The Wind-User turned his back, knowing that he's 
won.  "You weren't doing your best.  I'm disappointed."  

  "I was," Ranma wanted to say, but his throat could 
not formulate the words.  Or, perhaps, it was 
something else telling him that it was a lie.  

* * * 

  Nekurow was, by reputation, known to be prepared for 
anything.  He was, by reputation, the most vicious 
demon hunter in this generation-- the most dangerous 
hunter alive.  He believed himself prepared to take on 
the likes of the greatest rogue kami, Zhou Tian-long.  
He believed he was more than prepared to tackle a 
cursed ghost dragon possessing a minor demon hunter and 
priestess.  

  When the spectral bones erupted from her body, 
encasing the possessed in a protective wisp of a 
shell, Nekurow knew he was far from prepared to deal 
with Deathclaw.  

  "I've miscalculated," he told himself.  "It wasn't 
the dragon who was in control, but the girl!  The only 
thing keeping that creature down was her own will."  

  Taking several strategic steps back, Nekurow's neck 
craned upward, his eyes meeting the empty sockets of 
the spectral dragon skull towering overhead.  The 
creature's head alone more than made up Nekurow's 
height; the length of the creature, from head to tail, 
was far more than he imagined.  

  "The records said nothing of this!" Nekurow hissed 
angrily, discarding the whip severed by Deathclaw's 
spectral field.  

  "They say," Deathclaw rumbled, the cursed beast's 
menacing voice seemingly coming from everywhere, "that 
surprise is what makes life worthwhile."  The spectral 
dragon skull lowered to Nekurow's level, and dark 
coals erupted to life from within the creature's empty 
sockets.  "I expected something a lot tougher, coming 
from the girl."  

  "It can't be; you can't be in symbiosis with that 
girl!" Nekurow cried.  "The records specifically state 
that you always come under complete control!"  

  "Then perhaps you should've finished the rest of the 
record!" Deathclaw thundered, rearing his head back.  

  Nekurow knew the stance Deathclaw was taking; all 
'Western' dragons-- living cousins of the skeletal 
beast before him-- possessed a breath weapon, and, 
although the hunter knew not the nature of the attack, 
he knew it could potentially kill him-- and any 
bystander-- in one shot.  As he reached into his coat 
Nekurow noted that the unconscious form of Shizuka was 
resting, suspended in sleep, within the spectral 
dragon's rib cage.  He knew it to be the dragon's 
soft spot, but hesitated, debating priorities.  

  Deathclaw's maw opened, and a gale of freezing wind 
erupted, spewing in Nekurow's direction.  Holding out 
his arm, having found what he was looking for, Nekurow 
pressed the trigger on the cross-shaped object he 
held.  Just in time, a thin field of energy flickered 
to life, and the freezing wind washed around Nekurow.  
He had no time to consider any bystanders in the 
path of the breath; he only hoped they had the sense 
to get out of the way.  

  Risking a glance backward, he saw that others indeed 
have fled-- perhaps since the beginning of the battle.  
He then noted the nature of the breath-- it was not 
just any freezing wind, but the dying vegetate da
behind him told him that it was the touch of Death 
itself.  In moments trees, grass, and bushes aged, 
withered, then died before his eyes.  

  "So," he noted, "the legends are true; those 
unfortunate to be caught in the blast age before your 
very eyes.  I don't plan on becoming a decrepit old 
man anytime soon!"  

  The Sun Shield-- a gift from the god Apollo-- seemed 
to waver in its protective field for a moment, but 
Nekurow was confident it would hold.  Deathclaw's 
power was very easy to abuse, and could wipe out all 
humanity if left unchecked; it was not much different 
from Zhou Tian-long at all.  Evil beasts-- demons, 
renegade kami, demi-gods, and the like-- belong on 
their own world.  

  He felt an energy pulse from his demon sword in his 
other hand.  The dragon blade pulsed in the moment 
Nekurow spared to look at it, and he knew the sword 
forced from the fallen Orochi's fang was reacting to 
something.  In all his travels the sword he won over a 
slain Orochi clan member, the original Orochi Sword, 
had never done such a thing-- not since his last 
encounter with Zhou Tian-long in her human form.  

  "What could it mean?" he wondered, knowing that 
Deathclaw's blast was sustaining far longer than any 
living dragon's could.  Of course, it didn't matter to 
the spectral dragon; the dead don't need to breath.  

  He felt the ground under his feet rumble, and dirt 
fly off, carried in the direction of the wind.  Nekurow 
knew for certain that Deathclaw was intending more 
than simply turning him to a dry skeleton with his 
breath attack, and braced himself.  

* * * 

  Pulling himself together, Ranma was among the first 
to see Nekurow fly off into the air, pushed against 
the force of Deathclaw's icy breath.  His body hurt too 
much to follow the dark hunter's flight path, and 
continued to watch Deathclaw's movements.  

  If that thing is running around, he knew, the whole 
city could be in trouble.  

  Closing his great maw, the ghost dragon lowered its 
head for a moment, and spread its great wings, in 
parody of its living existence.  The creature vaulted 
into the air, taking flight, with white wisps trailing 
its movement.  Turning in a direction away from 
Nekurow, Deathclaw fled toward the inland, disappearing 
from view.  

  "I could've won," he moaned under his breath, before 
losing consciousness.  

* * * 

Tendo Dojo, Tendo Household 

  Ranma shut himself off from the rest of the world.  

  Akane and others helped Ranma get back home safely 
after the battle, and the martial artist awakened with 
the realization that he lost to someone who didn't 
train in the martial arts.  Refusing dinner, Ranma 
shut himself off in the dojo, sitting alone in the 
center of the empty hall.  Hours earlier others would 
filter in, one after another, and try to talk to him, 
but Ranma never heard a word they said.  

  His perception of time blurred; it must be past 
midnight by now.  He heard no word from Nekurow, who 
somehow tracked him anyway even without the 
transmitter.  Producing the palm-sized device, he 
tossed it over his shoulder, allowing it to clatter 
uselessly on the ground.  

  More than likely, the button was a dud, and Nekurow 
was just following him the whole time.  

  Nor had he heard word from Shizuka, who vanished 
along with Deathclaw.  Creatures as big and scary as 
a ghost dragon shouldn't be hard to spot, which meant 
that Deathclaw got to where he-- or rather, Shizuka-- 
wanted to go.  He had no idea how she fared against 
Nekurow on her own, but it was obvious that Nekurow 
wasn't prepared to deal with Deathclaw himself.  

  Ziel beat him easily.  The Wind-User covered all of 
his bases, and even ridiculed Ranma for his performance 
earlier that day.  

  Miranda wouldn't quit until she won, and Kanna 
outwitted him, but at least they respected his ability.  
Ziel just laughed at him.  Everybody, even Kuno, had at 
least some measure of respect for Ranma's ability... 
until now.  One guy....  

  He opened his palms to the ceiling, and stared down 
at them, bandaged and bruised.  "I don't lose to guys 
like Kuno, or even Saffron, so where did I go wrong to 
lose to some random punk like him?  Can it be some sort 
of fluke?"  

  Balling his right hand into a fist, the martial 
artist slammed it into the ground, punching a hole 
through the floor.  "There's no way I'm going to lose 
to that guy!" he declared, breaking his thoughts.  
"I'll just have to do better than my best!"  

* * * 

Darkness-- End of Stage One 

  "Everything is going according to plan," the dark one 
noted.  "Nekurow... that fool, was in over his head.  
Now that the first part of the plan succeeded, and the 
prize revealed itself, there was only to capture it, 
and make it my own."  



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

Author's Rant 

  Ranma and Ziel are formally introduced and challenge 
each other.  

  Nekurow's design and form has changede inoughout many 
revisions of this story, until I ultimately defined 
him in this final form.  

  Stay tuned for more.  


-- Razorclaw X (spiceoflife@NYChotmail.com) 
www.angelfire.com/art/rcxshizuka/ranma/ranff.html 

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