R1/2 -- Chris Collins (artc@mastnet.net)

	Here we are!  We've made it to the spine-tingling conclusion of
NYANNIICHUAN: Very Tragic Story! (CHEF'S NOTE: A tale of heartstopping
suspense, deptless intrigue, and rampant lesbianism!) (CUTE VOICE: Well,
you got one right at least.)

	(OLD VOICE: HEY!  I have a bone to pick with you, you no-account editor!)
(CUTE VOICE: *shiver* Coming from him, that scary.) (CHEF'S NOTE: What do
you want, Old Freak?) (OLD VOICE: Why did you have to hit me so hard last
time?!) (CHEF'S NOTE: ....  Well, if I hit you softly, you wouldn't have
fallen unconscious, now would you?)

	(OLD VOICE: !!!! But I missed Ranma's dream sequence...) (SUBTITLE: with
Miko topless...) (OLD VOICE: ...and I missed Ranma comforting Miko when she
was hurt...) (SUBTITLE: licking her face clean with her tongue...) (OLD
VOICE: and all the pretty ladies....) (SUBTITLE: and all the pretty
ladies....) (OLD VOICE: Hya!!!  Cut that out!  Who's doing that?!) [Yo, ya
remember me?  Tha voice from oblivion at the beginning of the fanfic?  I
didn't have nothin to do so I decided to learn how these things worked.]
(OLD VOICE: Why you....  You better stick to disclaimers, Sonny, or you're
gonna be in serious trouble!) (SUBTITLE: Ah, shove it up your ass.)

	(OLD VOICE: But I wanna see the pretty ladies!  I wanna I wanna I wanna!)
Could you please hold it down!  I'm trying to start a show here. (OLD
VOICE: Quiet!  No one's talkin to you!) Um, Ukyou, don't you still have
some latent, post-Miko aggressions to work out? (CHEF'S NOTE: *cracking
knuckles* I just might.) (OLD VOICE: eep.) (SUBTITLE: Oh shit.)

	Shampoo!  Hurry and pull the curtain! (CUTE VOICE: Ok!  Hnnrrgh!)

              -----------===================------------
              |       An Iron Dagger Production        |
              -----------===================------------

	"Are you sure you're alright?"
	"*sniffle* Don't worry, Guardian Spirit.  I'm sure. *sniff sniffle*"
	Ranma-chan, still in the guise of a harem girl, steadily followed the
cobbled path through the as yet unnamed town (NOTE: When I come up with a
name, I'll let you know.) with Miko cradled in her arms, right arm under
her shoulders and the left under her knees.  Miko, her eyes closed and damp
with drying tears, nuzzled her head into Ranma's chest (actually, using her
right breast as a pillow) with her arm loosely draped around her savior's
neck.  The mid-morning sun was to their backs, making them appear like an
odd silhouette to observers farther up the road.
	But had Ranma not been too absorbed in thought, she would have noticed
that the street was deserted but for a few startled faces that ocassionally
peeped out of huts. (CUTE VOICE: You want Shampoo get tumbleweed props?)
She felt a great weight of apprehension, brought about by the dark-robed
figure's grave words, that kept her gaze shifting from Miko to the sky and
back to Miko--the time they spent together was becoming a precious commodity.
	Ranma glanced down at the scratches and scrapes along Miko's extended arm.
 "Are you REALLY sure you're okay?  Maybe we should find someone to look at
those wounds."
	Miko smiled and squinted her eyes open.  "*sniffle* *giggle* Stop being
such a mother hen.  I'll be fine."
	Ranma tried not to sound panicky.  "But... then why are you crying?"
	Miko closed her eyes and continued smiling.  "Because *sniff* I'm happy I
didn't lose you back there."
	Ranma opened her mouth to say something more, then closed it again and
smiled as well.  _I'm not sure what happened back there, but I'm glad
you're alright too.  And I'll make sure you stay that way._
	Miko's stomach growled and she giggled, "I'll feel better after I get
something to eat."  Something about her voice sounded tired and unsure.

              -----------===================------------
              |        Written and Directed by:        |
              |        Christopher Lee Collins         |
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	Miko clung tighter to her guardian's collar while Ranma pushed open the
door to Tan's inn.  "Hn?"  Ranma stood in the doorway and looked around,
puzzled.  There were no people--only empty tables and chairs neatly
arranged, awaiting visitors.  Even given the early hour, the place should
have been at least partially full.  Ranma took a step forward and asked the
emptiness, "Is anybody here?"  She was answered by a faint echo of her own
voice, then silence.
	"Oh?"  For a while, Miko glanced around the room in faint surprise, then
she giggled softly and snuggled herself into Ranma's shoulder.  "*sniff*
Does this mean we're alone together?"
	Ranma stiffened and shivered--her eyes grew wide and her pigtail stood at
a high angle--when she felt Miko's hot breath on her neck.  She gasped,
"*Ack* Miko!  What'r'ya doing!?"  The girl in her arms giggled some more
and glided her lips across her guardian's exposed skin.
	At that moment, almost to Ranma's relief, the kitchen door swung open,
albeit hesitantly, and a wooden salad fork prodded the air as if it might
be dangerous.  Ranma and Miko became inhumanly still.  A gruff but subdued
voice asked, "Miko?  Is that you?"  When the fork was satisfied with the
atmosphere, a hard-featured face peeked out of the doorway.
	Miko turned and her face lit up in surprise, despite her annoyance for the
interruption.  "Tan!  Hi!"  Ranma managed to produce an awkward, toothy smile.
	Tan faultered and almost fell to the ground when he saw them, but held on
to the door to steady himself.  Miko (who he assumed was the girl being
held since she responded to his call) and her guardian were dirty, beaten,
and their clothes were torn; they looked like they had just escaped some
freak mining accident.  Tan stuttered a bit, then asked meekly, "Miko, are
you alright?"  Feeling overlooked, Ranma made a sour face--he didn't ask
HER (Ranma)how SHE was doing.
	Miko laughed playfully, "Don't worry.  Guardian Spirit kept me from
getting seriously hurt."  She warmly coiled her arms around Ranma's head
and neck, rubbed her face against Ranma's, kissed her, and purred, "We look
out for each other."
	Ranma, sweating (CUTE VOICE: Ahem.  Perspiring.), muttered out of the side
of her mouth, "You do realize I'm a girl right now?"
	"Oh!"  Miko, startled by the thought of how they must look, instantly
pulled her head away and stared at her guardian's shaken grin.  Miko looked
stunned for a few seconds, then broke into an extremely innocent smile.
	Tan raised an eyebrow.

              -----------===================------------
              |    Based on Characters Created by:     |
              |            Rumiko Takahashi            |
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	Miko sat half-pouting and half-blushing as she shyly studied her guardian
from across the table, hoping she wasn't too mad at her.  She started to
say something, then reconsidered.
	Ranma sat with her back facing her friend to hide the fact that she was,
in fact, blushing a deeper crimson (almost matching her hair).  She
couldn't bring herself to face Miko just yet.  Instead, she had been
staring wide-eyed at the kitchen door with her hand to her chin ever since
Tan hastily left to fix them something to eat.  By Tan's jittery reaction,
she had a gnawing feeling that he saw Miko's affection as more than
friendly--as did she--and her own current dress (or lack thereof) didn't
help matters.
	Ranma glanced down at herself.  She was wearing something designed to show
maximum flesh and maximum cleavage.  She was sorely underdressed for the
time--Tan kept averting his eyes in modest denial--and she definitely
couldn't change into a guy in what she had on (that would be gross).
Without shifting her gaze, she hesitantly asked, "Miko, do you have
somethin I can wear... besides this I mean?"
	Ranma sucked in a sharp breath and sat paralyzed when she heard Miko push
her chair back and start taking off her clothes.  After a few seconds, Miko
sighed heavily and wearily reached over her guardian's shoulder to hand her
the bundled red and black outfit, saying almost subordinately, "Please,
take these.  I don't have much material left."
	Ranma stiffened and her eyes bulged.  She gasped, "But what're you going
to wear?  You can't...."
	Miko laughed, "*sniffle* Don't worry, Guardian Spirit.  I've already made
something for me to wear."
	"Wha?"  Ranma glanced over her shoulder.

              -----------===================------------
              |       Ranma Saotome and Miko Lee       |
              |                  in:                   |
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	Ranma's mouth gaped as she stared unblinking across the table.
	"I hope you like it?  I only had scraps to work with--what with all the
fighting and sewing I've been doing--so this is the best I could do."  Miko
was standing off to the side of the table, holding one arm outstretched in
mock-flourish while leaning on the table with the other to keep herself
steady; her limbs were trembling and she could have fallen at any moment,
but she was determined to give her guardian a fashion show.
	(NOTE: I'll try and make this short.) Her new shirt looked like a
painting: above a field of tall, black (silhouetted), leaning grass rose a
hazy sunset, represented by a few strips of black across a deep crimson
sky, which faded into dark blue around the collar as if the colors had been
blended on an artists pallet; in stark contrast, her long, billowy sleeves
were light green with streaks of yellow flame that licked from her wrists
to her elbows.  Her pants were a darker green with the same fiery streaks
of yellow from her ankles to her knees--and the pair fit MUCH more snugly
against her form than Ranma's baggy trousers did, better showing off the
soft curves of her hips.  Ranma's jaw dropped to the table.
	Miko found herself leaning heavily on the table after a short time and she
had to hold herself up with both arms or risk toppling backwards.  The
whole table trembled with her legs as she carefully labored the few steps
back to her chair.  She panted through her fatigue, "I had more green than
I thought... didn't have much yellow because its so hard to make..."  She
pulled the collar of her blouse and looked inside.  "...I must have used
more white than I thought because I only have a few scraps left."  She
exhaled a deep breath of relief and wiped away a trickle of sweat after
finally sitting back down; then she regarded her clothes a few seconds
longer.  "Maybe THIS would look better on you after all."  She looked up.
"I could give you this one and...."
	Ranma, who had been staring rather mindlessly awed, quickly shook her head
and started pulling her new outfit over herself.  "Nonono, I think it looks
really good on ya...."
	Miko squealed with delight.
     
              -----------===================------------
              |             NYANNIICHUAN:              |
              |           Very Tragic Story            |
              |               Part VII                 |
              |        "As Fate Would Have It"         |
              -----------===================------------

	Tan strode through the door with two big bowls of rice and froze halfway
to the table.
	Not only had one of the girls changed clothes (something more appropriate,
he was glad to see), but the other, the one who he thought was Miko
(actually Ranma) when he left, was indignantly digging deep inside her
blouse with one hand and into her pants with the other.  A second later,
she produced the familiar skimpy uniform of veils like a slieght-of-hand
artist and handed it to the other, saying, "Well, here's a little more
material you can work with." (CUTE VOICE: Huh?) (CHEF'S NOTE: Buy a clue.)
The other girl (Miko) accepted the bundle and slipped it underneath her own
blouse, where it seemed to vanish.  Tan felt dizzy watching the exchange.
	"Hn?"  Ranma and Miko both looked curiously at Tan, who seemed like he was
about to fall.  Ranma sprang from her seat and rushed to the innkeeper's
side.  She took the bowls of rice from his hands and gave him her shoulder
for support.  "Are you alright?  You don't look too good."
	Tan regained his balance and took a step back in shock.  Ranma shrugged
and set a bowl in front of Miko and the other opposite her, then walked
back to Tan and asked, "You wouldn't happen to have any hot water handy?"
Tan lazily pointed back to the kitchen.  Ranma gazed into his blank face in
puzzlement, then shrugged and walked into the kitchen.
	Tan watched the kitchen door with nervous interest.  A few seconds later,
he heard a splash, and soon after, out stepped the dark-haired boy he saw
with Miko the other day (only moderately damp), and he was wearing the same
red and black outfit as the girl who entered.
	Tan rubbed his temples and muttered something about drinking too much rice
wine in the morning (CHEF'S NOTE: Probably thinking about drinking more
often.), then fumbled back into the kitchen.  Miko, long-faced, watched him
go.  She glanced at her bowl, then the kitchen, then called after him,
"Tan!  Could we please have some chopsticks to eat with?"

              -----------===================------------
              |             HAPPY THOUGHT:             |
              |     Maybe Happy Will Die This Time     |
              |          Like A Good Old Man.          |
              -----------===================------------

	Salon studied the half-dozen ex-harem girls standing at attention before
her like soldiers awaiting inspection and grunted with displeasure--which
the girls actually thought was kind of cute.  They had stripped the veils
from their already-skimpy harem suits, making them, as they said, less
restrictive; for the task ahead, it would have been more appropriate if
they at least worn the guards' robes for protection, if not for modesty's
sake, but they would sooner run naked--in fact, if she mentioned it, they'd
probably jump at the idea.
	Salon walked up to Komiki, who was standing at the far left of the line,
and stared suspiciously into the girl's smiling face--she seemed to be
bubbling with anticipation.  The witchwoman asked coldly, "Could you not at
least spare a guard or two?"
	Chun-Mae, who was standing behind her uneasy friend with her arms crossed,
huffed sourly.  "The few guards we have are needed here to protect the
other girls--the sounds of the jungle frighten them--so unless you want to
forget the whole thing, this is what you have to work with."  She frowned
and lowered her voice: "I would also prefer that they not go, but they
insisted..."  She lowered her head.  "...and I will not order them to stay."
	Komiki clasped her hands together and bounced up and down.  "Thank you,
Mistress Chun-Mae!"  Salon groaned and closed her eyes in thought.  While
the witchwoman wasn't looking, Chun-Mae gazed at her favorite harem girl
and mouthed the words "be careful".  Komiki mouthed the words "I will" and
puckered her lips in a kissing gesture. (CHEF'S NOTE: *groan* I think I'm
going to lose my lunch.)
	"Very well."  Salon opened her eyes and Komiki immediately snapped back to
attention.  Salon reached up as if plucking something from an invisible
shelf and six slender bracelets appeared in her hand, each on wrought of
twining strands of silver and gold with small, black stones imbedded at
intervals.
	She handed one to Komiki, who looked at it like a complex puzzle, then
began her explanation: "You are to wear these bracelets at all times.  Do
not take them off."  She handed out another.  "I realize that none of you
know very much of jungle survival.  That is why I have empowered these
bands with the basics of my jungle knowledge."  Chun-Mae raised her
eyebrows, impressed.  Salon handed out the net two.  "What I know you will
know.  You will be able to move around swiftly without hesitation."  She
handed the last two out.  "Likewise, whetever you see, I will see.  You are
now my eyes and ears in the jungle.  I wish you well and hope you find what
I need to know."  Chun-Mae cleared her throat and stared at Salon through
squinted eyes.  Salon shrugged.
	The witchwoman turned back and began the final inspection of her... spies.
 She slowly walked back down the line.  Each of the first three she passed
had fitted her bracelet on her left wrist, and each was still prodding the
piece of jewelry like a dead hamster.  The next two had closed their bands
around their ankles and were standing contented, as it they now wore
symbols of status.  Salon walked up to Komiki, who had her hands clasped in
front of her and was rocking back and forth on her heels, but she could see
no bracelet.
	Salon raised an eyebrow.  Komiki was smiling fiercely, as if she had just
made some ingenius discovery.  "Where have you placed my gift?  Have you
lost it already?"  Komiki bounced and contained a squeal of excitement.
Salon frowned and walked away, grumbling.  "When all this is over, I do NOT
want it back."
	(CHEF'S NOTE: EEEW!  I don't EVEN want to know!) (CUTE VOICE: Know what?)
(OLD VOICE: *sigh* Forgive her.  She's still innocent of these things.)
(CUTE VOICE: What?)