She let her gaze wander into the darkness that enveloped her, breathing a sigh of relief. The five year-old girl who was presently known as Tomoe Hotaru had come to like the darkness, and the silence that often accompanied it. In truth, it was the silence she preferred - she felt markedly more comfortable without the need to speak to others or face their questions. Hotaru could safely brood within her own would-be void, assured that no one would bother her... at least, until the sun rose that following morning. Isolating herself had been an easier trick during the time she'd spent on the road with her... no, *his* father. On those trips, the only person he'd had to worry about facing for long periods of time was the older Saotome. His father's opinion was the primary one that counted; he was Ranma's teacher in the Art, after all. Even if that teacher had taught her to be terrified of cats and changed her forever from a teenaged boy into a much younger girl. For a moment, Hotaru imagined she was snuggled inside her familiar old bedroll, staring up at a night-time sky filled with stars... rather than under the covers of her bed, in her own bedroom within the Matsui home. She could lose herself in that unimaginably infinite field of stars, offhandedly wondering where each of those... planets one of her past teachers had mentioned existed. There was the Moon and Sun, plainly visible in the skies, along with some others that could supposedly be seen under certain conditions. After that came the other planets which could only be seen with an advanced telescope, or by traveling into outer space, to those worlds. Would living on one of those worlds solve the problems she had to endure on the Earth? she wondered with a slightly amused snort. At least everyone seemed to treat a five year-old girl with better consideration than a young man. Mrs. Matsui was a fair example of that; she knew full well Ranma had been a sixteen year-old boy, yet she insisted on doting quite a bit on Hotaru as though the girl were her daughter. As a result, Hotaru now owned a complete wardrobe - including the lavender pajamas she was currently wearing - and had a bedroom to herself. The bedroom of a little girl, yes, but it was *her* room, and her room only. No more sleeping in the wilderness or on some hard wooden floor inside a bedroll, near her father and his roll. For a while, anyway. If anyone happened to find where they were hiding, or she and her father stumbled into any sort of trouble... well, they would be leaving in the middle of the night yet again. She didn't care much for the idea of running away from their problems - hadn't her father always taught her to confront any problem or obstacle head-on, and never to run away? - but nevertheless, where the elder Saotome went, she was obliged to follow. Hotaru reached a hand toward the digital alarm clock on her nightstand, turning the clock's brightness up long enough to check the time. Ten-seventeen P.M. she vowed, returning her gaze to the ceiling. Sure, maybe they would have to leave for the road again sooner or later - it was, annoyingly enough, almost unavoidable... but there wasn't a lot of sense in driving herself crazy, worrying *when* it would happen. Better to enjoy whatever short vacation she had in civilization, while it lasted. Unfortunately, no matter how comfortable she felt underneath the covers of her own bed, she was finding it difficult to fall asleep. Perhaps if she had merely been the child she appeared to be, Hotaru knew, she would have a smaller number of concerns giving her a reason to appreciate her personal void. Instead, she had been born and lived sixteen years as a boy, only to be permanently transformed into a girl by an obscure pool of water in China. At least she'd been changed into a younger girl by those cursed waters, Hotaru thought with a measure of guilt; if she was truly destined to be a girl for what remained of her life, she could learn the things she needed to know about being a girl at the same rate as a 'normal' girl, rather than approach it as a teenaged girl who was expected to already have that knowledge. That much, she'd learned from her life as Hotaru. What kind of person would Tomoe Hotaru become when she grew older? The question took her somewhat by surprise. As Ranma, she had tended to live for the moment, usually not giving much thought to the future - any future, including her own. Little Hotaru led a different life, one in which she constantly dwelled on several things - her new life, the events that had thrown her into this existence and her father's hope that he would soon find a cure for... *her* foremost among them. Saotome Ranma could and would not be anything other than a boy and the world's greatest martial artist. That declaration tended to confuse Hotaru. If her father didn't want her to be anything except a boy, why had the man insisted on having her play the role of Hotaru until someone found a cure for her? Wouldn't he demand she continue being Ranma all the time, no matter what happened, and avoid interrupting her usual non-stop training regimen? Or... was her father more interested in 'Ranma' as some sort of symbol? A son, who could benefit from his father's training and experience, and eventually carry on the family name... Hotaru was technically - and legally - his daughter. Was any part of this odd turn of events an indication as to how the man would treat a girl who was his daughter by birth? 'Professor Tomoe' certainly didn't spend as much time with her as he had when she'd been a boy. Maybe that was a direct result of the new life he led, but the man still seemed far more reluctant to spend any time with her - especially to train. The word lingered in Hotaru's mind. She exhaled, making an effort to pull herself free from her thick covers and sat upon the edge of the bed. Instinctively, she stood and began progressing through the set of stretching exercises she routinely performed after getting out of bed every morning. She had effectively been forced to restart her training - nearly fifteen years' worth of work - from the beginning. Her knowledge of the Art and instincts remained, but her body was nowhere near as conditioned as she needed it to be, to match the skilled martial artist she had been as Ranma. Keeping herself limber and properly pacing herself was therefore even more important; obviously, she could not expect to resume training at the same intensity she had before visiting Jhusenkyou. Hotaru quietly padded across the carpet to her dresser after turning the lights on. Mrs. Matsui was often in bed and asleep at this time of the night - but if she caught Hotaru out of her bed and room past the girl's bedtime... she'd have Hotaru back in bed with a speed that amazed the young martial artist. Protesting that she was in truth a sixteen year-old and therefore, she shouldn't have to turn in as early, never worked. Her 'aunt' simply insisted that 'Hotaru' was a child now, and she was going to ensure that Ranma cared for her younger self properly... especially considering the fact that Hotaru might be a girl for the rest of her life. Aunt Toshiko was right, Hotaru supposed; as a child, she needed a proper night's sleep and diet, if she wanted to make sure her body was properly fit and healthy... both now, and if she was allowed to grow older. Hotaru pulled the top left drawer of her dresser open. She kept everything she considered to truly be of value in the drawer, such as the smaller gi her aunt had bought to replace the old, somewhat threadbare gi that was now embarrassingly too large for her. Not that she knew where her original gi was, at any rate. Hotaru suspected her aunt had thrown the gi out, though the older woman wouldn't admit to having done anything with it. True, the gi *had* been about to unravel and was far beyond the point where a washing machine could remove the dirt, but... it was one of the last few articles of clothing she'd had as Ranma. Her gi was enough like her pajamas in feel that changing from one to the other simply felt as though she were swapping one set of pajamas for another. She shook her head, pulling the dark sash of the gi around her waist, then swiftly drew it into a tight knot at her side. It was the presence of that sash that reminded her of the person she had been and was supposed to be - a martial artist. Hotaru didn't fully believe her father's apparent view of girls and women in relation to the Art; that she would have to change the way she fought to accommodate the strengths and weaknesses of her new body was a given, yet it stood to reason that if she dedicated herself to her training long enough, she would eventually recover and surpass the level of competence she'd had as a boy. Something inside her constantly insisted that she was a fighter - more so than usual, and Hotaru wasn't questioning the idea. What possible reason could she have to *stop* her training? Her father was, curiously enough, neither discouraging her efforts to train nor encouraging them. That - along with the fact that she hadn't yet been able to tell if he was avoiding her or truly too busy to even spar with her - continued to bother her. Hotaru carefully eased her bedroom door open in an effort to keep the hinges from squeaking, as they normally did. Once she had managed to open the door slightly over a foot in width, she squeezed through the thin opening, grateful for her smaller size in that regard. The Matsui home was smaller compared to the homes of the other faculty members she'd had a chance to visit, in Hotaru's opinion. There were only a few rooms in which she could safely practice the Art. She would have preferred to use the backyard, but that would potentially attract attention, as too many people could see into the backyard from their own homes, and someone might wonder why a five year-old girl was running through advanced martial-arts forms. Her own bedroom had just enough room for her to practice in private, if she limited her movement - though the sounds of her training would travel through the walls and floor, and Hotaru knew from experience her Aunt and Uncle wouldn't appreciate her doing anything of the sort in her bedroom, where she could easily break furniture or something else. That left the garage, which had a fraction less room for her to maneuver with the family car present, but would no doubt be a little too cramped for the comfort of an older boy. Hotaru could only imagine her former body's size and stature, projecting herself into that imaginary body as she moved. She eased her door shut once more, before heading for the stairs. These late-evening trips through the house were an interesting test of her stealth training; many parts of the house would creak or squeak with an age she was unable to discern, if she didn't watch where she stepped... or how. That, too, was another advantage of her younger, smaller body - she wasn't nearly as tall or heavy as she had been. Dad and Uncle Nobuo were in the study debating or arguing about something - possibly grading papers or projects, Hotaru guessed, or a theory about her curse. She didn't care about their debate either way. If the pair *did* develop a cure for her, she would be happy... but in the meantime, she continued to hold very little faith in their search. They had the resources of Infinity Academy - whatever *those* were - available to them, and could easily arrange to have samples of water from the Nyan-nii-chuan pool shipped to their lab, or even sponsor an expedition of sorts to Jhusenkyou. But did they *want* to do anything like that? When making an antidote for snake venom, didn't doctors use a sample of that venom? Couldn't Dad and Uncle Nobuo do something similar with a sample of the water? Instead, they had chosen to forego any connection to magic and cure her through science. How in the world were they planning on accomplishing that, she wondered, aside from having her endure one of those sex-change operations she'd heard extremely little about? Jhusenkyou's cursed waters no longer had an effect on her. The curse had already taken its toll. Hotaru knew that; she had tried a leap into the Nan-nii-chuan to reverse the effects of the Nyan-nii- chuan, in the hope that their guide had been misinformed... yet nothing changed. Swimming in any of the pools at Jhusenkyou was now no more different for her than a swim in the pool at the nearest park. Or the Academy's pool. Or any other body of water, for that matter. She would have gone back to China and Jhusenkyou, nonetheless, if not for the inherent problems involved with a five year-old girl attempting to make such a trip by herself. Where better to begin her search for a cure than the region in which she'd been cursed? Perhaps there was a magical or scientific way the Nan-nii-chuan water could be altered to have an effect on her? Somewhere in the world, there was a cure for her curse. If the magic or power existed to transform her into a girl in the first place, there had to be something that would at least give her a boy's body. Or maybe a skill that would allow her to swap forms on demand, in some way... But all of those possible cures ideally had an element of magic to them, which meant that there would be no convincing the *adults* to let her look into the possibilities. Then again, Aunt Toshiko would frown on the thought of her venturing out to look into such things herself, or otherwise placing herself in danger, regardless of whether or not magic was involved. As far as she was aware, that had more to do with her current body than anything else. Had she been her 'true' self, her aunt would still have worried - but allowed Ranma more free rein. After all, it was easier to keep a little girl from walking off to China than a teenaged boy. Hotaru tiptoed past the study and the guest bedroom next door, following the hallway to the garage. The guest room belonged to her father - the *professor* - now. Her own room had previously been that of the Matsuis' own daughter, Yumi - but Yumi was nineteen now, and had moved out to attend a college in the United States. Which college, Hotaru didn't know. She hadn't met or spoken to Yumi; unlike her parents, Yumi did not know the truth about Professor Tomoe and little Hotaru. Aunt Toshiko and Uncle Nobuo had thought it best if they were the only people aware of who their house guests had been. Yumi had mentioned in her latest letter that she looked forward to meeting the younger girl who now lived in her old bedroom, and Hotaru wasn't sure if that was good or bad. She'd learned that her aunt had already sent Yumi a picture of her - a photo taken the first time she had worn the full Infinity Academy uniform, when her mood had more or less been as drab as her new clothes. That had led to her aunt vowing that she would somehow, sooner or later, get a picture of Hotaru smiling without forcing the girl's emotions. Hotaru shook her head. Letting her thoughts drift wasn't a good idea when she was supposed to be focused on her stealth. Seven wide strides brought her to the door at the far end of the hall. That was a definite disadvantage to having a child's body, in her opinion - her smaller arms and legs not only meant that she had a notably shorter reach, but also that it took her longer to cover distances than before. her father's voice spoke into her thoughts. The old man had been telling her that since her first childhood. Odd that for a martial artist, he was adapting to the problem far less than her. She wrapped the fingers of her small hand tightly around the doorknob. Dad and Uncle Nobuo wouldn't really care if she decided to train past her bedtime, as long as she didn't break anything. Her aunt, on the other hand... There was no sound in the house her trained ears could detect, other than whatever was going on in the study. She couldn't hear the sounds of the television in the family room, although that was certainly not a good indicator of where Aunt Toshiko happened to be in the house. It only meant that the older woman wasn't watching TV. For all Hotaru knew, her aunt was as likely to be about to walk into the hallway as she was to be in bed. Hotaru turned the knob as quietly and slowly as she could manage, hesitating on occasion in an effort to keep both the old knob and door from making any sort of noise. She found herself wishing for a brief moment that her stealth training had been more intensive. Her father's lessons had focused more on confronting people face-to-face than sneaking around. Dad had always insisted that a martial artist never ran from any of his fights. Temporarily retreating and hiding to collect oneself and reconsider one's strategy, yes, but *never* fleeing from a fight. So *why* in the world wasn't her father facing this problem head- on at her side? Stupid fool of a father... it was primarily his fault she was Hotaru, now. He'd left her to face and contend with the world as that child... Or maybe this was another one of his idiotic challenges. He was 'training' her by *not* training her. Well... either way, she'd show him. It was nice to have someone else around against whom she could gauge herself, a person who would make sure her skills progressed in the proper direction... yet her father no longer wanted to fill that role. Fine, then; she'd planned to eventually assume complete control of her training, as Ranma had only been a handful of years away from adulthood, and he hadn't intended to train with his father for the rest of his life... He was over a decade younger and a girl, now, but she could continue with that plan regardless of the change. Ah, the old man probably didn't know anything about training a little girl. Hotaru shuddered as she stepped into the cold air that filled the garage. She was momentarily grateful she had her warm gi and slippers - Ranma the boy would have shrugged off the slight chill, but... She forced that thought from her mind. Dwelling on how her life or any particular scene from this 'new existence' would be different if she were a boy had become something of an subconscious habit to her, like comparing her current body with the one she'd had as Ranma. Not that she planned to *stop* dwelling on the result of her 'change' - even after three months! - but grousing about not having that boy's body while sparring or fighting was hardly a good idea. Of course, training in the Art was not just for her body's benefit, but her mind as well. Her instincts. She couldn't be sure if and when she would return to her true form; she could be a girl for the rest of her life, and there was no way Hotaru would let her training slip no matter *which* form she wore. With another sigh, Hotaru let herself flow into one of the mid- level kata she had memorized during her previous childhood, a sequence to which her present body was still adjusting. She knew it instinctively enough that she could execute it without a conscious thought - if it weren't for the occasional protest from her muscles. Even as a five year-old, Hotaru was aware she was a bit more limber than she had been as a boy, but that merely meant she needed to devote more effort in her conditioning to allow for that extra freedom of movement. Tomoe Hotaru hadn't yet endured every last bit of the physical training Saotome Ranma had... and Hotaru was decidedly weary of the need to start all of that over from the very beginning. There was no other path to becoming the martial artist she wanted to be, however. Except more transformational magic. She wasn't willing to risk *that* for a while. Hotaru thought, the frown on her face deepening in concentration. Ideally, she was supposed to be at peace while executing a kata, not brooding about... well, anything. As much as she wasn't about to stop dwelling on her change, she had to admit that giving herself something else to think about would be better than her present single-minded focus. But what? What else did she have to preoccupy herself, other than the Art and grousing over her current problems? Not much. The old man had always insisted that Ranma focus on *nothing* but the Art. In the past, Ranma had grudgingly followed that advice; he did want to be the best, after all, and that translated into a non-stop training regimen, whenever possible. Injuries and illnesses were not reasons to delay that training, but instead became a weakness for one Saotome to defend and the other Saotome to exploit. The result was that Ranma had become a notable martial artist - though a martial artist with underdeveloped social skills and an almost nonexistent personal life. Naturally, Aunt Toshiko had noticed Hotaru's lack of both; such things were evidently - to Hotaru's relief - more tolerable in a child than a teenager. What was it like to have a life of her own, interests *other* than the Art? Maybe, if her father was indeed distancing himself from her, she would have the opportunity to find out. Hotaru could see that despite their backgrounds or the fact that they each attended an elite private academy, most of her classmates weren't limiting themselves the way she had. Even those whose parents were trying to push them into concentrating or excelling in something. But then, those who found themselves attending the Academy were usually inclined to be... gifted. She didn't think of herself in that sense, at least not in regard to being a scholar. After all, wasn't the fact that Hotaru was a high school-age student in the body of a five year-old - though no one knew that, of course - the only reason the Academy believed her to be an advanced student? How long would that act carry her? Was it fair to allow everyone to view her as a sort of prodigy when she didn't truly have that natural ability, or had worked hard to gain it? *Could* she improve her studies as a result of training, just as she did with the Art? Hotaru flowed through a set of kicks. Whatever the case, it was probably a good idea to devote more attention to her studies. And if that 'break' from the old man's philosophy of "nothing but the Art" convinced him to stop avoiding her, all the better. She began to deliberately ease her thoughts into whatever other subjects she could find. School. That was it. As Ranma, she'd had the impression for some time that school was far less of a priority than her martial-arts training. After all, she would always be able to return to her lessons years later as an adult, when her training wasn't as demanding... or something like that. Right? Thank goodness Aunt Toshiko had explained in patient detail why that plan wouldn't work. Her father had never insisted she forego school, or even encouraged her to attend. No, he'd instead remained neutral - which was odd, since he did have more of an education than she had thought. Hotaru believed she knew the man's reasons, however; she felt she had quite a bit of experience in trying to see through his bluster and manipulation of the truth. Or did she? Underestimating her father was something she'd never intend to do, especially when facing him in a fight. But was she misjudging him anywhere else... or even everywhere? *Know your opponent*. She wasn't sure, blast it! Before her trip to Jhusenkyou, Ranma had believed she knew her father - and herself - well enough to reasonably guess what the old man might do, fighting or no. But there were... *nuances*, some writers called them, minor aspects of a person that had influence on their choices and actions. Was it a good idea to make assumptions about her, her father or anyone else if she couldn't be aware of all those details? And then, there was school. She'd assumed that since she had passed the grade level to which she was returning over a decade ago, little Hotaru wouldn't have any problems at all with her classes. Uncle Nobuo had suggested she focus her attention entirely on her teachers, lessons and projects, to keep her mind off the clock. If she resumed that habit now, waiting anxiously for the school day to end, it would only get worse from here. Yes, she knew *that* well enough from experience, didn't she? Hotaru let herself flow into the next kata in the lengthy sequence she had created for her present body - a set of maneuvers more smooth than forceful, to avoid overexerting herself. The advanced kata could wait until she was better conditioned... or she found a 'cure.' she recalled. Every 'first day' of school Ranma had experienced in the past had been mostly the opposite; why, there'd been a lot of kids who thought he was cool because he was a martial artist. Well, sure, this time around she wasn't promoting herself like that, kept to herself and barely spoken to anyone other than the teacher, but how much of a difference did that make? Maybe the other kids assumed she was a snob or something of the sort because she was the 'daughter' of one of the Academy's professors? She'd seen that happen at previous schools, with students that were supposedly from higher-society families. Hotaru fought back the urge to shake her head. It was much too soon to come to that conclusion. That, and it felt quite a bit like... like... running away from a fight. She'd been taught to approach every situation and choice from the standpoint of a martial-arts challenge. Now, what was her 'opponent' in this situation? Hotaru snorted. Everything was a challenge to overcome. But that made 'knowing' her opponent a bit difficult... Nobuo tried his level best to ignore his friend's grimacing as they used the closed-circuit security cameras to watch the man's son- turned-daughter execute a series of kata. That his boy had been physically changed into a younger, female form bothered Genma to no end. Presently, however, the man was keeping his distance from his new daughter, for some reason. Why? Granted, Ranma's change was the catalyst for the pair becoming Souichi and Hotaru Tomoe, but now... Souichi's only involvement with his child was his vow to change her back, more or less. He would normally be proud that his *son* refused to stop practicing the Art. His daughter? Apparently not. And if they never found a means of restoring Ranma's birth- gender? Would Souichi abandon little Hotaru-chan? In that case, maybe he and Toshiko might adopt Hotaru... Yumi had stated in one of her letters that she loved the idea of having the younger girl be her 'little sister.' What might happen if they *were* true sisters? Finding a cure had already proven itself to be a nearly impossible job, more so when they were keeping the search as quiet as possible. Nobuo had hoped to acquire a moderate sample of the Nyan- nii-chuan water to analyze - perhaps even use in the fabrication of a cure, much like the processes of making anti-venom or antibodies - but no one admitted to knowing where the cursed valley of Jhusenkyou was located, much less whether or not the place did exist. The only 'proof' he had of its existence was Genma and Ranma's word, a brochure written in Chinese that made dubious references to a number of intensely dangerous training grounds, and... Ranma's curse. Hotaru spent a lot of time brooding, though that was to be expected. Even so, she was determined to proceed with her life. Good. No doubt Ranma had inherited that practice from her father - if only Genma would follow suit. Nobuo returned his gaze to the man in question, carefully regarding him. Another grimace. Was it still too early to worry how this arrangement might end? No... in this case, it was better to start planning for every possible turn of events. And what Toshi had been attempting to do was a decent start - helping Hotaru improve herself as a person, mentally, socially and culturally. If Hotaru had also gained her father's 'trait' of living for the moment, never planning for the future, which she no doubt had... Nobuo swallowed the urge to sigh. He and Toshi would merely have to keep taking the initiative in that regard. There was no need for Hotaru to abandon her goals in training to be a martial artist, but she *did* require a more full and rounded life. What kind of person would Genma have been without *some* education? Unaware of her late-night audience, Hotaru continued to step through her kata... though her mind was far more focused on what she'd done in school that day than her movements. She insisted on keeping her distance from most everyone at the Academy, teachers as well as students. No doubt someone had asked Dad or the Matsuis about it by now. Hotaru couldn't fault them for that; it was part of a teacher's job to help children 'break free' of their shells and interact with everyone else. Still... Trying to recall her original 'first time' in school had failed. Hotaru had hoped that event might hold some insight for her as to how to cope with her new life. It seemed to her that people didn't mind a boy being something of a loner as much as a girl - and now that she *was* the latter rather than the former... The protests of her shoulder muscles indicated she'd used more force in her last punch than she should. Hotaru paused to massage her shoulder. It was terribly easy to forget she wasn't running through the exercises in her true body. But that was essentially the point, wasn't it? She wanted to lose herself in the Art, avoid thinking about... certain things. As Ranma, she had lived from fight to fight, with no personal concerns to trouble her. Yet, she was Hotaru now, wasn't she? A little girl with a completely different body - and she couldn't stop brooding over all the aspects of her 'new life.' she scolded herself. The void was her favorite method of seeking peace; simply send her mind deep into absolute nothingness, where she could float eternally in silence with no problems to bother her... a factor the darkness in her bedroom hadn't exactly provided. Toshiko carefully ventured into her husband's office, quietly standing for a moment behind the two men who had clearly been working there for a time... likely on matters concerning Hotaru, as the current semester at the Academy had barely begun, and there were no major assignments or projects on the schedule for at least a week. Her own class planner was free for slightly longer. "I thought I might see if either of you wanted some tea before I went to bed," she announced. Only then did both men turn to look at her, not having heard her enter. Toshiko smiled, long-used to that sort of reaction when her husband was lost in his work, here. "Hm?" Nobuo blinked. "Oh. Yes, please." When Toshiko did not reply, he followed her gaze to the security monitor that they'd locked on the view of the garage - and the young martial artist attempting to adjust her kata to her new body. Suddenly, Hotaru appeared to become even more assured of her moves; she flowed through her forms with a noticeable increase of power, focus and grace... which, to Toshiko, resembled a beautifully elaborate dance. Toshiko rested a finger against her lower lip in thought. Some education and experience in the fine arts - in addition to the Art the girl already practiced - could only benefit Hotaru. She peripherally glanced at the man who now called himself Tomoe Souichi, only to find he was once again fully absorbed in whatever work he was doing. Souichi - *Genma* - seemed not to care about his child at all beyond the desire to return Ranma to his proper age and gender. Why? No doubt having a skilled martial-artist son to carry on the family name and school of the Art was extremely important to the man. But that could hardly be the only reason. What was so important about Saotome Ranma being a boy that her father refused to deal with the girl Ranma had become, apparently believing that she would be a boy again before the need arose? Hadn't he and Nobuo accounted for the chance that a cure might take many years to find, assuming there were any possible means whatsoever of reversing Ranma's curse? Maybe they had. At some level, Toshiko knew, the man did care for his son-turned daughter... yet she constantly caught herself imagining what could happen to poor little Hotaru if her father and Nobuo never found that cure. Hotaru-chan had to have drawn her own conclusions in that regard - she certainly spent most of her time brooding and sulking. Not that she truly faulted Hotaru for such behavior; suppose *she* happened to visit Jhusenkyou, under the pretense of traveling on an expedition alongside her husband, and was cursed to become a five year-old little boy? Toshiko felt a slight chill at that thought. Perhaps she did need to take the initiative in helping Hotaru. There was no harm in letting the girl know she definitely had *someone* on her side... Hotaru drew herself free from the Void as her kata ended, ignoring the regret that always haunted her whenever she 'returned.' She slumped into one of the hard orange plastic chairs Toshiko kept in the garage, spares from the Academy, and winced - Hotaru was thoroughly convinced that whoever designed school furniture worked tirelessly to eliminate every last trace of comfort. The Art wasn't merely about exercises and kata, however. It probably wouldn't take her a long time to regain a semblance of her past conditioning, to the point where she could effortlessly perform every sequence and form exactly the same as she had as Ranma, with the same speed and no exhaustion... but then what? In this setting, as Hotaru, what challenges might she face? Yes, there was probably a dojo that would admit her, maybe a competition or two - but would that provide even the slightest bit of difficulty or excitement for her, a martial artist far beyond normal sport competition? Would she even have the patience for competing at those levels? School... now, there was something for which she had little patience, Hotaru knew. She had no difficulty pretending to be just as interested in everything as any of the other children; five year-olds didn't usually have to worry about any of the higher-level stuff with which she'd had to contend the last time she was in class. The math was far less annoying, thankfully. Yet all of it was still a never-ending reminder of her current set of problems. Hotaru shook her head. It had certainly become far too easy - anywhere other than her personal limbo - to slip into this... 'habit' of reflecting, rather miserably, upon every last detail involved in her supposed rebirth. She was accustomed to being largely in control of her life, to taking action instead of leaving it up to others. Right about now, she clearly had far less power over her destiny than when she'd previously been the same age. A tenet of her father's teachings stated that one should never give up. If a direct attack failed, or was impossible, reconsider your strategy and approach... but under no circumstances was Ranma to stop trying. She tightened her fingers around the sides of the chair. Assuming the whole of reality wasn't against her, what could she possibly do to increase whatever advantages she had? Toshiko quietly edged closer to the door that separated the house from the garage, straining to hear whatever sound Hotaru might make - a pointless effort, surely, as Hotaru was fairly capable of being almost perfectly silent if she chose. As much potential as she believed Hotaru to have, the truth was Ranma's lessons had only consisted of whatever was necessary to be a fighter... and little else beyond that. She doubted Genma had ever truthfully taught his son how to behave around others with tact, consideration and respect. The importance of having more to wear than just one or two pairs of boxer shorts and a filthy, threadbare gi that, by all indications, would have fallen apart within the next challenge or two. The thought that whatever underwear Ranma ever had might well be hand-me-downs from his father triggered a somewhat severe shudder. Better not to think along *those* lines... Well, thank goodness she had a chance to help... fill in the blanks, so to speak, in Ranma's upbringing. Toshiko felt guilty that the opportunity came as a result of Ranma's transformation into Hotaru; however, the younger Hotaru appeared more receptive to changing herself for the better than Toshiko imagined Ranma would be. Hotaru, like Yumi, didn't really care about the need for a proper night's sleep, either. Toshiko could picture Genma and his son facing all kinds of peril until three in the morning, then waking up before five to renew the cycle. At least Hotaru wasn't being anywhere near as stubborn about it as Yumi had, but there was no need to tell her that. Toshiko had lapsed easily back into the role of a mother, something she had honestly missed after her daughter moved out. That Hotaru wasn't related to her meant little; Ranma needed the sensibility of a mother figure in her life, if not her own mother. Genma had winced, mentioning that the latter wasn't an option. She'd left it at that, deciding it was hardly necessary to pry - whatever problems Genma and his wife may have had were their business. The question of how Genma could be able to take his son on a training voyage for over a decade with little resistance became readily understandable, however, if the Saotomes had separated, and his wife had no hand in Ranma's care. Toshiko shook her head. How a man with a college education, intelligent enough to convince an entire Academy he was a fairly notable professor, couldn't see the foolishness of only teaching Ranma how to fight, neglecting everything else the boy needed to learn... She reached a hand toward the knob with new intent, and pushed the door open. Time for the well-practiced 'parent speech' that told children they really should be in bed this very moment. "Hotaru? Are you in there, again?" Toshiko wasn't entirely sure. Although she had watched the girl's performance through the security cameras, Toshiko - who hadn't really felt like scolding her this evening - had meandered around the house, hoping that Hotaru would take the opportunity to sneak back upstairs before she ultimately stopped to check the young martial artist's bedroom. "You know full well just how late it is. And, you have classes in the morning..." As her eyes adjusted to the florescent light of the room beyond the door, Toshiko let her voice trail away. Hotaru had apparently exhausted herself enough that she'd fallen asleep while taking a break on one of the surplus student chairs, a sight that brought a silly little smile to Toshiko's face. Sleeping children - even those forced back into childhood - always looked so precious to her. So gentle, peaceful, adorable... one of the wonders of the world. Until they were old enough to be saddled with the problems of the older people. She knelt beside Hotaru, again pausing for a moment to study the girl's serene face. Another memory surged, overlaying itself over that image of Hotaru: the evening when she'd found Yumi, barely older than Hotaru, likewise slumped in the large, plush emerald couch across from the television in the family room, fast asleep. At the time, Toshiko had merely bundled Yumi in her arms, and carried the little girl off to bed. That had been somewhere over a decade ago, the logical part of Toshiko's mind warned while she began the effort to pick Hotaru up without waking her. Why go to the trouble, anyway? All she had to do was wake Hotaru instead, lecture her about being awake past her bedtime, and escort her upstairs. No heavy lifting involved with that option, right? she thought, bemusedly. Fortunately, Hotaru was a slight girl, weighing less than Yumi had, though that too was no doubt due in part to the young martial artist's constant desire to train. Hotaru snuggled further into her arms, as Toshiko had expected. ------------ Credits: Written by: Mike Koos Prereaders: Kevin D. Hammel, Josh Temple, Richard Beaubien, Tom Kinnen, and the RM Project List With apologies to Takahashi Rumiko and Takeuchi Naoko... All parts of this series are available at the RAAC archives at ftp://ftp.cs.ubc.ca/pub/archive/anime-fan-works/ or from my WWW pages at http://www.fanfic.net/~makoto/ Comments and questions welcome. * Mike ('Kino Makoto') Koos: aoi_m2003@yahoo.com * http://www.fanfic.net/~makoto * * "I can do nothing to stop you. Your background music is too strong * for me." - Sam Johnson, Whose Line is it Anyway?