{These characters are not property of me. I would never attempt to claim them as my own. This story may not be used without my permission, and may not be used to make money in any way, shape or form. Characters and certain situations were created by Rumiko Takahashi, so don't try any funny stuff!}
"But why do we have to run? Why can't we fight?" The young girl was breathing heavily. They had been running for such a long time.
"Because, my precious daughter, I don't want either of us to befall the same fate the rest of our family has." The woman plunged into the thick forest, her daughter close behind her. "And we are far too weak to fight the soldiers." She looked at her daughter, who was frowning. "Even with your exceptional ability."
The girl kept her frown as she cleared branches away from her face. "But Mother, we have to do something. We can't run forever. What about Father? Doesn't it matter what they did to him? The way they humiliated our family..."
"Enough, Ling. There is nothing we can do. Our only hope is to escape the Emperor's kingdom and start over someplace far away." She didn't want to mention how extensive the Emperors claim was, how far they would have to travel. She beat back some thick brush with her staff.
Her daughter cried out behind her. Stopping, she looked at her daughter on the ground; Ling was clutching her ankle tenderly. Pulling on her daughter's arm, she urged her to rise. "Hurry. The faster we go, the better our chances for escape the Emperor's vengeance." She pulled Ling's arm, trying to get her moving again.
"Ow! My ankle, I think I hurt it bad." She took two limping steps before she pulled away from her mother. She reached back down and felt the swelling. Yes, she was hurt and in trouble.
Her mother knelt down beside her. "There is nothing we can do here about this. We must keep going." She put her arm under Ling's arm and supported her weight. She had seen the swelling herself and knew it was very bad, possibly a break, but there was nothing to be done.
Ling tested her weight but her ankle would stand none of it. She inhaled sharply then lifted her foot and hopped along next to her mother.
Neither of them knew how far or for how long they traveled. The terrain was rough, covered by thick forests, rocky ground and they were without food and water.
The ankle injury took its toll on Ling. Her cheeks were flushed and every step brought forth a grunt of pain. "Please Mother, I can't go any farther. It hurts too much." She tried to sink to the ground, but her mothers strong arm prevented her.
"No. You must not rest. They grow ever closer," she pleaded. She could almost hear the soldiers thrashing through the woods behind them. She glanced about furtively, knowing her daughter was in dire need of assistance.
Her eyes settled on something above the trees. "Come now, we may find some help after all." She lifted her daughter once again and headed off towards the source of the smoke she had seen.
The two emerged from the tree to an odd sight. The smoke was coming from a hovel sitting on the edge of the forest. A good distance away, through some scattered trees, a number of bamboo poles could be seen, pointing straight up into the sky.
Carefully they approached the hovel. Peering into the open doorway they saw a simple bed, table, a trunk and a fire. Apparently the occupant was out. There was nothing over the fire and what they needed badly was food and water. With great reluctance, the woman led her daughter away from the hovel.
"I wish I could let you rest, but if I leave you, you may be found." The pain on Ling's face was evident, she needed to get off her feet badly. But rest wouldn't do any good if a group of soldiers found her.
Against her better judgment, the woman led her daughter towards the mysterious poles. She really had no clue as to what they indicated, but from the looks of the hovel, they could possibly be a farm.
Walking as silently as possible, the two passed through the trees and beheld the poles. It was not a farm; they were pools. And indeed they were a strange sight. There were more pools than the woman could count, all still as death with not a creature or bird anywhere near them.
For whatever reason they were barren, they were water. And the two women were in need of water. They rested in front of the nearest pool, Ling groaning as she sat on the ground. The pool itself was clear, no leaves or mud, just clean water. It was shallow, not even able to cover Ling's chin.
The woman kneeled at the very edge and cupped her hands. She bent forward to fill her hands with the water when a voice behind her called out. "No! Stop! You must not do that!"
The woman whipped around, instantly alert. A small man, wearing little more than rags and carrying a dead boar still in the trap, was looking at them with horror.
"Who are you?" the woman asked, her eyes narrow.
"I am the caretaker of these springs. You shouldn't sit so close to them or you might fall in." His voice was even but was filled with warning.
"Why? They're just natural springs..."
The caretaker was shaking his head. "No. You do not understand. Come away from them and I will explain." He was gesturing wildly with his hands.
"My daughter, she needs help. She hurt her ankle. And we need food and water."
"Of course, of course. Just please come away from there." The warning had changed to desperation.
The woman nodded curtly and started to help her daughter to her feet.
"There! There they are! By those pools!" On the cliff, high above the springs, a group of soldiers were standing.
Fear found its way into the woman's heart. She lifted her daughter, who groaned in protest. "Where..." The caretaker had disappeared. "Damn you!"
More voices from the woods and rustling bushes. "This way!" The voices sounded ugly, the voices of trained killers.
She looked around desperately but there was no cover. She could neither run or take a stand. She considered her daughter briefly. She could abandon Ling and run. Unburdened, with Ling distracting the soldiers, she could escape.
Ling looked at her with pain and determination on her face. No. Their stand would be made and they would take as many of the bastards with them as possible.
"Now is your chance, my daughter. We fight. Take my staff." She released Ling to stand on her own.
Ling gingerly took the thick staff, the solid wood heavy in her hands. Her mother pulled a long, wicked looking dagger from her belt. The two stood next to each other with the springs at their backs.
The soldiers, five of them, burst out of the trees. They broke into hearty laughter when they saw the women ready to fight. One only a girl, with a bad ankle to boot. "It looks like the girls think they can fight," said the leader. He waved his sword menacingly.
They advanced slowly, breaking into two groups. Two concentrated on Ling, while the other three went for her mother.
"Just give up now and we'll think about killing you quickly," teased one of the other soldiers. That brought laughs from the rest of them.
One of them took an experimental swing at the woman, who knocked away the sword with her dagger. Another jabbed at her and she sidestepped, breaking away from her daughter. The third stepped in, preparing to pierce her gut with his short sword. The woman skillfully knocked his hand aside, then yanked on his wrist and flung him into one of the pools.
His cry of surprise was cut off, changed to squawking as a brightly colored bird thrashed in the water. The two soldiers were distracted by the impossible event long enough for the one that was not the leader to receive a dagger in the liver. He fell, screaming, blood gushing from his abdomen.
The leader scowled and attacked the woman without mercy. She was quite skilled and lasted longer than he expected her to. She could parry his strikes but was unable to mount a counterattack.
In the meantime, Ling was having her own problems. The two soldiers on her knew they had the physical advantage, but had trouble overcoming her greater reach. She batted away their swords, hopping carefully on one foot. Several times she found herself close to tipping into the pools, but the hesitant attacks of the soldiers allowed her to regain her footing.
One of them got too close and was battered upside the head by Ling's staff. The speed of the swing hid its power and with a cracked skull, the soldier was sent spinning into a pool a few feet away.
Unlike the other soldier, he remained human but face down in the water. The weight of his battered armor carrying him to the bottom to drown.
The girl turned her attention back to the remaining soldier. He was young, not much older than herself. Yet he used his sword with skill and speed above the others. She knew she would not last long against him in a straight fight. He was also leering at her, making her even more uncomfortable.
Her mother was losing precious ground. The days without adequate food and water were killing her. Her energy was flagging fast and the soldier was taking advantage of it. He took one especially vicious swipe, a tight arc close to her body. She tried to block it with the blade of the dagger, but it was too close to her body. She took the sword on the hilt of her dagger and screamed as several fingers were severed.
The dagger fell to the ground and the woman dropped to her knees. The soldier smiled, then swung his sword back around and neatly beheaded the woman.
Ling had just blocked a strike when she heard the scream and felt a warm wetness on her arm. She knew what had happened but forced herself to concentrate on her opponent. And she had a second opponent as well, when the leader joined in.
He talked to the younger soldier as they took their turns attacking her. "So you like this one, eh?"
The younger did not answer, only attacking with precision, his eyes locked on Ling.
"She is rather pretty. If she would stop fighting, we could have some fun and then maybe let her go." He smiled at the girl, his teeth yellow. "How would you like that, little one? You could go free if you just put your stick down."
Ling tried to ignore him but could feel the hatred and anger bubbling up. She began fighting a little more fiercely, which caused the leader to back off and the young soldier to fight harder. She was holding her own rather well, even with her hurt ankle. The adrenaline killed the pain and gave her renewed energy.
The young soldier pounded away however, rattling her grip. Ling successfully blocked a blow aimed for her side and swung around the opposite end of the staff to hit the soldier in the stomach. He *whoofed* and staggered back. She sensed an opportunity and stepped forward to land an incapacitating blow to the head.
At the last instant, the soldier brought up his sword and deflected the staff. It was his opportunity to swing his sword down and around, he sliced through the staff and cut into the thigh muscles of her undamaged leg.
Ling screamed as she fell to the ground; her ankle and destroyed thigh were unable to support her any longer. The soldier advanced on Ling with his sword leveled. He could see that she was grievously injured, the blood fountaining from the cut femoral artery.
He got down on one knee beside her and held his sword at her throat. He applied an ounce of pressure, breaking the skin and drawing a few drops of blood. "You should have just given up. It would have been so much easier that way."
With rapidly fading strength, Ling glared at the soldier and uttered "Go to hell." She brought up the piece of staff she was still holding, meaning to hit the soldier in the head with it. Instead, it glanced harmlessly off his shoulder and fell from her hand.
Though useless, the gesture enraged the soldier. "You couldn't do it easy, so now we have to do it hard!" He pulled her body to the pool she had been fighting in front of, dropped his sword and dunked her in.
She struggled briefly under the water, but her strength had left her completely. The soldier lifted her out of the water long enough for her to take one weak breath, then forced her under again.
Her vision leaving her, she looked up at the soldier through the water. For the barest instant, she recognized him. It was strange that a name would come to her mind, but one did. Just before she entered eternal sleep, it was...
"Kuno-sempai!"
Ranma sat straight up in his futon, taking deep breaths. His stomach was in full rebellion. Akane's 'Western omelette' had laid him out and someone had dragged him to his room. His head was thudding and the commotion from outside wasn't helping.
Akane's grating 'Kuno-sempai!' again, followed by Kuno's even more grating 'Churl!', and then Ryoga's irritating 'Akane-san!' It was all followed by the sounds of heavy objects being broken over thick skulls.
Ranma fell back on the futon, the dream staying with him. No more, that was the last time he ate anything Akane cooked. The dreams were just too much, too realistic. He resisted the urge to vomit as he watched Kuno go sailing past his window.