Ranma knew that he was dreaming.  He knew the situation could possibly
happen if he wanted it to, and although he wouldn't admit it in words, he
wished it would happen, but there was an underlying FEEL to the scene, like
an inner voice, almost mocking, that told him that what he saw was merely a
hopeless fantasy and could never be.

	Miko, wearing a soft red and black, leaf-patterned Japanese kimono, sat on
a tree stump in the field behind her cottage, her hands resting gently in
her lap.  Her scarlet hair was unbound, as it was when he first met her,
and flowed down her back and across her shoulders like silk; it swayed
gently in the breeze, and individual strands floated enticingly across her
face.  Her head was tilted slightly downward as she smiled assuredly,
almost slyly.

	Down on one knee in front of her, Ranma gazed longingly into her
crystal-blue eyes as he feather-touched her delicate hands with his
fingers, initially unsure of whether he SHOULD be touching her--or whether
he deserved to.  He was comletely aware that he was was showing much more
intimacy than he would allow himself to show in real life, feeling much
more passionate than normal, but his dreamself was ignorant of those
real-world self-inhibitions; even though it was his body, he felt more like
a spectator watching himself do what he never felt he could do.  A part of
him tried to explain that he shouldn't touch her because he'd be betraying
someone else, but he couldn't recall who, and the thought quickly faded--it
must not have been very important.

	Miko slipped her hands over his and moved them up to her face until they
were carressing her cheeks.  Half-smiling and half-pouting, she leaned into
his right hand and shed a tear of joy.  Head upright again, gaze forward,
she started gliding her hands up the length of his arms; he, in turn, slid
his hands down to her slender neck to inside the collar of her robe.

	Miko rested her arms in her lap once more as he slowly brushed her collar
open and slipped it over her shoulders; the robe slid down her back and
arms, exposing her supple breasts.  The sleeves of the kimono still hanging
loosely around her wrists and forearms, she reached up and cupped her hands
behind his head.  After gazing into each other's eyes one last time, she
pulled his head against her chest.

	Even though it was just a dream, he could have sworn that he could taste
the saltiness of her skin on his tongue, hear her light moan in his ear, in
the half-second before he heard a cold, raspy voice state, "It's time."

		

	Ranma's eyes snapped open as he was suddenly jolted out of his dream--the
situation made him feel awkward anyway.  He was lying on his stomach, his
head resting sideways on an unusually firm, red and black pillow.
Everything was inordinantly bright, as well as warm, and he had to blink
his eyes a few times before his environment came into focus.  A spacious
field of grass stretched out before his eyes, and he could hear the
chirping of birds nearby; a light breeze wafted across his face and blew
his hair back. 

	As he tried to get his sleeply head to remember what he had been doing
before he went to sleep--his whole life seemed like a wierd sequence of
dreams--he brought his right hand up to see if he could soften his pillow.
Just as he rested his hand on one extraordiary lump under his chin, he
heard something else that momentary drowned out the birds' song--a
heartbeat.  Startled into awareness, he pushed himself up on his left hand
and looked down at what he was laying on.

	Miko tilted her head away, blushing furiously.  She was flat on her back,
pinned underneath him, with her arms stretched over her head.  Following
her arms to her hands, Ranma could see that she was sewing something out of
the sheer, black material from one of the veils he gave her earlier.  Then,
he looked down and noticed that his hand was cupping her....

	"Gaaa!"  Ranma immediately jumped off of her and backed away a few feet,
raising his thumbs, index, and pinky fingers in traditional warding,
sputtering, "I'm sorry I won't do it again!"

	Miko, her face completely flushed, fluttered her eyelashes and giggled,
"Oh, you can do it again if you really want to."  Stunned and dumbstruck,
Ranma's pupils dialated and his mouth gaped.

	"Oh?"  Miko, worried that she had startled him too much with her
statement, quickly changed topics.  "I made this for you."  She brought her
hands down in front of her and held up her latest sewing creation.

	Ranma shook his head and looked down.  In her outstretched hands lay a
perfect, fully-bloomed rose; each petal seemed painstakingly crafted from
the sheer, black, delicate cheesecloth and was virtually indistinguishable
for an actual rose petal--although this creation appeared more fragile and
airy than the real thing.  Ranma, mezmorized by its eligance, muttered
distantly, "It's... beautiful...."

	Miko giggled, "I'm glad you like it.  I didn't know how it'd turn out.
I've... never sewn anything with someone lying on top of me before."
Smiling, she sat up and held it out to her guardian, waiting for him to
take it.  When he didn't move, her face dropped in worry and she whined,
"Don't you want it?"

	For several seconds, Ranma was unable to respond as images of his
conversation with the dark guy tugged at his mind, trying to pull his
attention in another direction.  A cold, raspy voice echoed in his head:
"Hurry up!  You haven't got all day!"

	Ranma blinked his eyes and shook his head, the voice still reverberating
through his skull.  When his eyes returned to the artificial rose, he could
see that Miko had a very worried look on her face.  He hesitated, then held
up his hand.  "Uhh... look, Miko, I really like it and all, but you're
gonna have to hold it for me for now.  I hafta go do something... really
important...."  He trailed off as he turned his head away and peered down
the hill.

	Miko gasped, suddenly feeling her heart fall.  _More important than me???_
 Panicked and feeling tears rush to her eyes, she dropped the rose and
grabbed her guardian by the shoulders.  When he didn't look at her, she
shook him and cried, "What do you mean?  What could possibly be more
important than staying with me?!"

	When Ranma still didn't look at her--he wasn't even paying attention!--she
glanced over his shoulder to see what he was looking at.  She gasped when
she saw the dark-robed man standing in the ricefield, looking directly at
them with his fists on hips, noticeably impatient; he turned away and
looked up at the farthest hill, where two other figures soon came into view.

	Miko threw her hands aside Ranma's head and forced him to look at her.
She gasped harshly, "You made a deal with him--didn't you?!  Why?!"

	Ranma winced at the question--he didn't want to answer it, especially to
her.  After stumbling with words to an answer he couldn't give, he clasped
her by the shoulders and stood up, making her rise with him.  They stared
at each other at arms' length for a moment, then Ranma shook his head and
sighed, "I hafta go now."

	Miko grabbed his arm as he was turning, her face tearstreaked.  "No!  I
won't let you leave me!  I'll never...."

	Ranma tried to gently brush her off and interrupted, almost shouting,
"I'll be back, okay!  I promise!"

	Miko cringed back but did not let his arm go.  Ranma flinched and rested
his free hand on her shoulder.  He said softly, "I'm sorry.  But what I
hafta do IS really important.  I promise I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?"

	Miko tightened her grip and shook her head.  "I'm not letting you go that
easily!"

	Ranma closed his eyes and sighed, "Miko...."

	Miko jumped back, her brow furrowed and needle ready, and hissed through
her teeth, "No!  I don't care what you have to do!  If you try to leave,
I'll...."

	Ranma folded his arms, narrowed his eyes, and smirked, "You'll what?!
Attack me?!"

	Miko was taken aback by his tone as well as his words.  Eyes wide, mouth
agape, throat constricted, she stared at her needle in disbelief--would she
really have attacked him?  After letting the thorn slip from her fingers,
she squeaked, "Then please tell me... why...."

	Ranma raised his eyebrows in deep regret--he always hated making girls
cry.  He took a step forward and placed his hands on her shoulders, then
pleaded, "Don't cry, Miko."  He slowly blinked his eyes and sighed, "Look.
The dark guy said that if I don't get this phoenix statue back... *sigh*
you're gonna... die."

	Miko looked up at him and whimpered, "And you believe him?"  As soon as
she uttered the words, she remembered her dream-like conversation with the
dark-robed wizard--of his foreboding of death and the choice he'd given
her, and of the answer she gave in return.

	She took a step back and clasped her own shoulders, trying to remember the
pressure of her guardian's touch, as if she might never feel it again.
Half-glancing at him, her face solemn, she muttered, "It's too dangerous.
You've done enough for me already.  Please don't go.  Not for me."

	Ranma, trying to maintain composure for both of them, smirked, "Now what
kind of a guardian spirit would I be if it didn't?"

	Miko started to launch a protest, to demand that he not go, but when she
realized what he had just said, she froze.  She stared at him with
shimmering eyes, then lept forward, threw her arms around his neck, and
threw her lips over his.  In the several seconds that she explored his
mouth, Ranma was paralyzed, his pigtail sharply angling upward, his fingers
only partially forming his usual warding gesture--he wasn't so sure that
what was happening was anything he really felt sorry about.  When Miko
finally pushed away, Ranma stood dumbstruck for a few more seconds, his
eyes wide and his mouth gaping, then fell to his knees, breathless.

	Miko walked a few paces away from him, her head hung low, hands clasped
before her.  Without turning, she groaned, "Please hurry back."  When she
did look back several seconds later, he was gone.  Lifting her hand to her
lips, feeling the residual tingling, she tried to smile but found that she
couldn't.

		

	The dark man clasped his wrists under his sleeves, monk-style, and smiled
as he watched former emperor Xi Fang descend (levitate) from the steep hill
and land in the rice field over a dozen yards away.  Soon, the dark man
told himself, his plan would be complete and he could go home--and one way
or another, he wasn't going home empty-handed.

	As soon as Fang set foot on the marshy soil, he spread his arms as if
greeting and old friend and heralded, "Ah, Dark One.  I had a strong
feeling that we would cross paths again."  The crow, which was heartily
chewing at the grass by its master's feet, went rigid at the sound of
Fang's voice, then bolted up to its master's shoulder, where it half-hid
behind his head.

	The dark man chuckled lightly and shook his head, then replied mockingly,
"You have something I need, so I have little choice but to come to you.  A
technicality that could not be avoided, I assure you."

	Fang, trying to ignore the insult, bowed with an open flourish and said
humbly, "Nevertheless, I am deeply honored to once again stand in the
presence of my future tutor."

	The dark man sighed and rolled his eyes.  "Not this again.  As I have said
before, I have already chosen an apprentice."

	Fang stood up, clasped his hands, and smirked.  "Well then, I shall just
have to prove myself more impressive to you than this other man."

	The dark man smiled again--he could see that his opponent wasn't open to
equal opportunities.  "I sincerely doubt it, but you are welcome to try.
You have already impressed my familiar with this particular valley."  He
nodded toward the bird on his shoulder, who bobbed his head a little
hesitantly, unsure of whether he should answer.  "He considers the grass
around here fine cuisine.  It has an... exotic flavor."  The bird nodded
more confidently.

	Fang's grin widened and he chuckled, "Your little friend should try the
rice...."

	The dark man raised a hand.  "No, thank you.  I have heard that rice has a
sort of explosive effect on birds, and although that supposedly only
pertains to dry rice, I would rather him not eat any just to be safe."  The
crow looked at its master wide-eyed, startled, as if he had never heard
that before.  Fang shook his head in his hand and groaned.  The dark man
smiled and added, "But I am sure that the grass in the area is enough to
satisfy his tastes."  The crow nodded furiously.

	Fang, composing himself, spread his arms to encompass the whole valley and
asked, "And do you know what it is that your familiar tastes in the grass
that is so appealing?"

	The dark man folded his arms and muttered, "I'm sure you're just dying to
tell me."

	Fang took a deep breath and bellowed, "Power."  He started walking across
the field in a prolonged semicircle toward the dark man, his feet treading
unsoiled across the mud and water as if he were walking on solid ground, as
he explained, "A long time ago, in my search for a means to boost my own
energies, I had discovered that the magical water supplied by Phoenix
Mountain has more uses than just cursing a spring.  By irrigating this
field with uncursed spring water, the rice, as well as the plants growing
around it, can absorb the very magical essense of the water into their
roots, instilling within them certain restorative properties.  The power
stored in the rice at harvest is very potent, and one bowl a day is ample
enough to more than triple my strength!" (NOTE: Wouldn't Kirin like to get
his hands on that little secret.)  Fang stopped just on the edge of the
field, still over a few yards from his audience, and bowed slightly,
asking, "Does that not impress you?"

	The dark man rubbed his bearded chin thoughtfully.  "Hmmm....  It is an
interesting discovery.  But what impresses me more is that you can actually
stand eating that stuff--if that horrid aftertaste that blade of grass left
is any indication."  He made a sour face and spat.  "I commend you on your
strong stomach.  Which reminds me...,"  He turned to his familiar,
scratched its head, and requested, "Would you please go find someone else
to bother for a while.  I don't want you sitting on my shoulder for several
hours after dining on all that vegetation."  The crow shrunk back and
nodded regretfully.  The dark man then put his hand in front of his mouth
and whispered, "And I don't want you getting hurt when his anger really
starts to flare."  The crow's eyes widened in shock, then it nodded and
took wing.

	Fang clenched his fists behind his back and muttered curses under his
breath.  The Dark One was mocking him again--what would he have to do to
make the wizard take him seriously?  He turned his head to watch the crow
fly away and considered shooting it down.  Maybe then....

	"I really wouldn't do that if I were you."  Fang turned to see the Dark
One glaring at him, sternly but still smiling, with his hands out before
him, palms outward, thumbs together; he was surprised that the dark man had
heard his thoughts and tried to appear confused, as if he didn't know what
the other was talking about.

	The dark man shook his head and sighed--surely the former-emperor didn't
think him that dull-minded.  He furrowed his brow and said wryly, "Why
don't we get to the point of this meeting?  I know you didn't lure me here
to discuss better gardening or exchange recipes.  I do have a fairly good
idea of what you do want, but why don't you enlighten me--just for the
records of history."

	Fang folded his arms and frowned.  "Very well."  He narrowed his eyes and
hissed, "I have spent too much of my life preparing for this
once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to let it slip through my fingers so easily.
 I DEMAND that I be granted the duel, and the apprenticeship, I deserve!  I
WILL prove myself a better candidate than ANY MAN!"  The dark man chuckled
and started to decline, but Fang added slyly, "To turn down such an
honorable request would be an act of cowardess."

	The dark man clasped his wrists and smiled.  "If you think that you can
taunt me with such prideful coercions...,"  He bowed respectfully.
"...then you have succeeded."  He then jumped back several yards and folded
his arms.  "Shall we begin?"