Ukyo instinctively ducked, avoiding the gunshots easily.  Then, 
grabbing a small spatula from the counter, she rose up and thew the 
makeshift weapon at her assailant.  He screamed as the spatula blade 
impacted with his wrist, severing veins and muscle as it lodged deep in 
his arm.  He dropped his gun as he fell the ground, clutching his wrist 
and yelling in pain.

	She ducked again, picking up a knife just as a man vaulted over 
the counter to try and attack her up close.  She stood up and pivoted 
on her ankle, delivering a vicious front kick to his chin that sent him 
toppling backwards.  Without pausing, she thrust the knife behind her 
and into the abdomen of a second attacker.  She turned back to see a 
man on the other side of the counter pull a gun, and she immediately 
saw that she could never get over the counter and disarm him in time.  
She was about to duck when the man turned his gaze sideways and aimed 
not at her, but Akane.

	"Look out!" she screamed, but Akane was too involved in her own 
fight to react to Ukyo's words.  By the time she turned her head to see 
what was going on, it was too late.  Ukyo summoned her courage and 
vaulted over the counter, but he had already fired, and Akane recoiled 
in pain as the bullet hit her in the arm, sending blood spurting into 
the air.

	"Akane!" she screamed.  The man saw Ukyo's movement and turned to 
fire, but before he could complete the motion she kicked him 
ferociously in the stomach, causing him to double over as she disarmed 
him with a second kick, then elbowed him in his back to send him 
sprawling to the ground.

	She ran towards Akane, who despite having an injured arm was 
managing to fight off three Yakuza.  But her face was pale and she was 
losing blood; it didn't look like she could hold her own for much 
longer.  She saw Ukyo preparing to enter the fight, but shook her head 
and yelled, "Get to my Dad!"

	Ukyo looked toward the stairway in time to see one of the few 
remaining Yakuza disappear up the stairwell.  "Damn," she muttered, 
pausing one last time to glance at Akane uncertainly.

	"Go!" yelled Akane as she kicked one of her attackers hard in the 
stomach.  Ukyo hesitated for only a second before dashing up the 
stairs.  Akane watched her go, and as soon as Ukyo had disappeared out 
of sight she let go of her tenuous hold on consciousness and collapsed.

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

	Ukyo threw herself against the side of the stairwell, barely 
avoiding the shots fired at her from the top of the landing.  She 
braced herself, then taking a deep breath she sprinted up the 
stairwell.  She burst onto the landing, throwing herself forward as 
she rolled onto the ground, bracing for the sound of gunfire and 
half-expecting to feel the pain of a bullet in her flesh.

	To her surprise, there was silence, and she quickly got to her 
feet, holding a small spatula between her fingers.  There was nobody in 
sight-- only an eerie silence that made the pounding of her own heart 
sound that much louder.  Cautiously she crept cautiously forward, ready 
to react at the first sign of her attacker.

	A movement caught the corner of her eye, and she twisted, 
bringing her arm back to throw the sharpened spatula, but she gasped 
and checked her movement as the door to one of the upstairs rooms 
opened and the man stepped out.

	He was holding a knife, and it was cutting into Soun Tendo's neck 
hard enough to draw blood.  He eased out of the room, and as he did so 
kept an arm locked around the elder Tendo's neck-- a hostage situation.

	"All right, lady, it works like this.  You let me out of here, 
and neither you nor him gets hurt."

	She didn't answer, but neither did she rush to attack.  There was 
no way she could get to the Yakuza without risking Soun's life in the 
process, but she kept her eyes on him and her weapon in her hand ready 
to throw.  All she needed was an opening, one distraction that would 
allow her a window of opportunity to attack.

	He clearly knew what she was thinking, because he twisted the 
knife slightly, causing Soun to squirm and the blood to flow faster.  
"Drop your weapon."

	She hesitated, and the man's grip tightened on the knife, which 
cut deeper.  Soun was pale now, and the thin trickle of blood had 
reached the edge of his gi.  Seeing that the man would not hesitate to 
harm Akane's father, Ukyo dropped her spatula, and he smiled.

	"Good."  He relaxed the pressure on the knife, and Ukyo watched 
helpless as he inched toward the stairs, his hostage struggling weakly 
against the man's iron grip.

	A siren sounded off in the distance, and was quickly joined by 
one, then two more.  The man glanced down the stairs, and when he 
turned back to Ukyo, he was clearly nervous.  Down the stairs she heard 
thumping around, but she didn't hear Akane, which worried her.  She 
almost yelled out to her friend, but checked herself-- she didn't know 
the situation downstairs, and Soun Tendo was still in very real 
danger.  She had no idea how far this man might go if provoked.

	"Get down here!" a male voice shouted from below.  "The cops are 
almost here!"

	As the man turned his head to respond, Ukyo saw her opening.  
Summoning up reserves of strength and speed that she hardly even know 
she had, she darted forward, and as the man turned back toward her she 
clamped a hand on his wrist, yanked the knife away from Soun and 
twisted hard, causing him to drop the knife and fall to his knees.

	He lashed out at her, and his other fist connected hard with the 
side of her face, sending her reeling backwards.  The adrenaline 
surging in her system now, she recovered immediately and kicked him 
savagely in the stomach just as he managed to recover the knife.  Her 
anger overflowing, she kicked him again.  The man hunched over, 
dropping his weapon and groaning.

	"Bastard!"  She kicked him in the face, breaking his nose with an 
audible crunch and sending blood pouring onto the floor.  The sirens 
were loud now, and through her rage and frustration she barely noticed 
that the downstairs was silent now-- the Yakuza had fled, leaving their 
colleague helpless before Ukyo's fury.

	"You fucking piece of shit!"  Another kick sent him down the 
first three steps, and she moved to attack him again, but suddenly 
slipped as her feet lost their purchase on the blood-slicked landing.  
She fell forward, landing across his stomach-- he was unconscious now, 
but her anger and frustration were too intense for her to notice, or 
care.  She pushed herself up with one arm, then punched him again and 
again, screaming obscenities before finally pushing him the rest of the 
way down the stairs.  As the adrenaline faded from her system, she 
looked in shock at the crumpled body at the bottom of the stairwell and 
collapsed, her body slowly sliding down the steps one at a time.  
Thump.  Thump.  Thump.  She came to rest next to the man, both of them 
by all appearances dead.  Blood soaked the ground, and her soft, 
shallow, breath was inaudible over the scream of approaching sirens.

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

	When Ranma and Hiroshi arrived at the Ucchan's, they were 
confronted by a grim scene of chaos and terror.  The flashing lights of 
emergency vehicles shed an unearthly red glow on the scene, and the 
chatter of emergency workers was intermixed with hysterical screams.  
The attack had occurred at rush hour, and the restaurant had been packed 
with customers-- salarymen, husbands and wives, even small children, 
many of whom were crying and screaming as they were checked over for 
injuries by a veritable swarm of paramedics.

	The two officers weaved their way through the police cars and 
ambulances, and made their way to the front of the chaos.  The 
restaurant appeared to be in remarkably good condition, considering the 
fight that had taken place inside.  From the outside, they could see a 
few bullet holes that had punctured the front wall, but otherwise the 
restaurant seemed to have survived without too much damage.

	Stepping inside the door, however, they were confronted with a 
different scene altogether.  Only a few tables been left intact, and 
broken chairs littered the ground.  Cracks lined the wooden counter, 
and even the grill itself was damaged in several places.

	The worst part of it all, though, was Ukyo.  She was laying on a 
stretcher near the back, her still form surrounded by a cluster of 
paramedics and an IV drip running into her arm.  Ranma approached 
cautiously, then stepped up to the side of the stretcher.  "How is 
she?"

	"Better than can be said for a lot of people here," said one of 
the paramedics.  "Sustained a few cuts, nothing serious-- her biggest 
problem right now is shock."

	"Can I talk to her for a second?"

	The paramedic hesitated.  "Yeah, but make it quick."

	Ranma leaned over Ukyo, who was staring blankly up at the 
ceiling, seemingly unaware of the world around her.  "Ucchan?"

	The injured woman's eyelids fluttered for a moment, and then she 
started.  "Ranma... it's you."  She sighed, and a tear fell down her 
cheek.  "I'm sorry... it wasn't supposed to be like this..."  She 
sniffed.  "I should have protected her... I shouldn't have let them 
take her."

	Ranma felt her heart break as she realized the true magnitude of 
what had happened.  She had thought Akane would be safe here, and so 
she had gotten Ukyo-- her only real friend-- involved in a mess that 
she should have never been a part of to begin with.  God, she had been 
selfish.  She had been selfish, and Ukyo had paid for it.  So had the 
Tendos, and every other innocent bystander who had been at the 
restaurant during the attack.

	She felt her knees almost buckle, and barely managed to keep 
standing.  Hiroshi rushed to her side, putting his arm around her 
shoulder to support her.  "Are you all right?"

	Ranma looked at him, a mix of shock and terror in her eyes.  
All she could think about was what had happened to Ukyo, and how she 
had terribly hurt her best friend in the world.  "What have I done?" 
she whispered, her voice nearly cracking with emotion.

	Ukyo turned her head.  "I let you down, Ranma.  I'm sorry."

	Ranma rushed back to her, tears flowing down her own face now.  
"It's my fault, Ukyo.  I shouldn't have brought them here.  I'm 
sorry..."

	"Ma'am?" asked the medic.  "We really need to get her out of 
here.  She'll be at Otsuka Hospital if you'd like to visit her there."

	"All right," said Ranma, backing away.  "Thank you."

	As they rolled the stretcher away, Ranma wanted to shout one last 
apology at Ukyo, but didn't.  Instead she walked over to one of the few 
standing barstools and sat down, looking in disbelief at the devastation 
that the fight had wreaked inside the restaurant.

	Hiroshi watched her from several feet away, unsure of what to 
say.  He knew how to deal with thins like armed criminals and deadly 
Yakuza gangs, but now-- seeing his brash, cocky, I-don't-give-a-damn 
partner brought low-- he didn't know how to react.  Finally, after a 
few seconds he asked, "You gonna be okay?"

	She looked around, not responding.  "This is my fault, Hiroshi.  
I thought they'd be safe here, and look what happened."

	"Don't blame yourself for this."  He stepped closer to her.  "You 
had no way of knowing this might happen."

	"Of course I knew it might happen!" she snapped at him.  "Nowhere 
is perfectly safe, but I thought this would be the safest place."  She 
stood up, and kicked at a piece of glass on the floor.  "Now one of my 
best friends is in the hospital," she pointed out the door, "and if it 
wasn't for me, she wouldn't be!"

	Hiroshi stepped back slightly, caught off guard by her sudden 
outburst.  "We all make mistakes, Ranma."

	Ranma lowered her head.  "Not like this."

	As he watched her sitting on the pavement, Hiroshi suddenly felt 
somewhat annoyed by her behavior.  Of all the times for Miss Reckless 
to have a sudden outbreak of conscience... he grimaced and shook his 
head.  "So if a friend of yours gets injured, it's bad," he said, "but 
if it's someone you don't know then it's an acceptable risk?"

	She looked up at him, and her cold blue eyes shot daggers that he 
could almost feel piercing his flesh.  "If this is your way of cheering 
me up, then let me just tell you that it really sucks."

	"Oh, come on," he shot back.  "This isn't the first time 
something like this has happened.  What about that car chase with 
Nagumo?  How many civilians were injured then?"

	"That was different!" she shouted at him.  "That was a calculated 
risk, and it certainly wasn't this bad!"  She went quiet again, and 
looked around.  "I'm sorry for shouting.  I just didn't expect this.  
This caught me completely off guard."

	"Look," said Hiroshi, "I understand where you're coming from, and 
I'm not saying this is your fault.  It's not.  And Ukyo's gonna be 
fine-- you heard what the paramedics said.  Just a few minor cuts is 
all."

	"Yeah, I know," she muttered.  "I'm sure she'll be all right."

	Hiroshi smiled at her admission, but to his surprise she remained 
as distant and dazed as before.  "My point is," he continued, "when 
people you don't know get injured in stuff like this, you shrug it off 
better than anybody else.  But when it happens to a friend--"

	She looked up at him, a tear running down her cheek.  "So I'm a 
hypocrite, is that it?  Because I'm sorry that I hurt a friend?"

	Hiroshi rubbed the back of his head and sighed.  "I didn't mean 
it like that."  He hesitated, then tried again.   "What I'm trying to 
say is that risks are a part of this job.  Normally, you shrug them off 
and keep going.  Here, you're letting it get to you, even though you 
had no way of preventing it."  He looked at her.  "Maybe what you need 
to do is find a happy medium in there-- learn from your mistakes, do 
what you can to make sure they don't happen again, but then move on."

	She returned his gaze, not saying anything.

	"Look," he kept going, "The Tendos are out there somewhere, in 
the hands of the same people who wrecked Ucchan's.  Ukyo is going to be 
all right, and now we have a job to do."

	Ranma opened her mouth to reply, but a uniformed police officer 
walked up to them and she fell quiet.  "Officers Juzo and Saotome?"

	"Yeah," they both answered.

	"Good," he said.  "They told me you'd be in here.  I have good 
news and bad news.  The--"

	"Good news first, if you would," said Hiroshi.  "We've had enough 
bad news for the moment."

	"Soun Tendo is safe," answered the officer.  "He was one of the 
first casualties evacuated, and is on his way to Otsuka Hospital. He 
appears to be in stable condition."

	"Akane?" asked Ranma quietly, not daring to hope that she might 
be safe.

	The officer shook his head.  "No sign of her," he replied.  "It 
appears that she was taken by the Yakuza when they fled."

	"Damn," she whispered.

	"Was that the bad news?" asked Hiroshi.

	"That was only part of it," he said.  "I think you'd better see 
this."

	They followed him out the door, and to a makeshift command center 
in the center of the chaos.  A group of people were clustered around a 
small television screen, and as Ranma pushed her way through to the 
center she gasped at what she saw.  It was the news-- but that wasn't 
the shocking part.  The reporter was standing in front of a burning 
building, and firefighters swarmed around the background in a futile 
effort to extinguish the roaring blaze.

	"--apparently a bomb attack against a private residence," the 
reporter was saying, "one of the most well-known buildings in this area 
of Nerima."

	Her mind reeled, and she almost retched.  Through her daze she 
heard the reporter continuing.  "--little is known at the moment, but 
it appears an explosive device inside the building was triggered.  It 
is not known if anyone was inside the building at this time, and we are 
currently waiting for a statement from the authorities."

	It all seemed like a dream to her.  She half-expected to suddenly 
wake up in bed, secure in the knowledge that it had just been a 
nightmare and everyone she knew was safe.  Pushing her way out of the 
crowd, she stumbled and almost fell down, but Hiroshi caught her and 
helped her to the curb.

	"Thanks," she muttered.

	"That's twice in the last five minutes," he said, looking 
concerned.  "Are you feeling all right?"

	"Yeah," she whispered, "I'm fine."  She made no move to get up, 
though, and Hiroshi fidgeted.

	"Look," he said, "you seem pretty tired, and I know all this must 
be hard to take.  There's not much we can do right now but count our 
losses and clean up."  He sighed.  "Why don't you go home and catch a 
few hours of sleep?"

	She looked up at him with a blank expression.  "No, I really 
shouldn't.  I need to be here," she wiped away another tear, "and take 
care of things."

	"I can do that," he said.  "You aren't any help to anybody the 
way you are right now.  Go home, get some sleep, and in the morning 
we'll work on what needs to be done."

	She paused for a moment, thinking it over.  "Are you sure?"

	"Yeah," he said quietly, "I'll take care of things here, and if 
anything important comes up I'll give you a call."

	"You know, I think some sleep would be good for me right now."  
She slowly got up, and turned to go.  "Thanks."

	"Remember," yelled Hiroshi, "we still have a job to do.  We still 
have to move on."

	She walked out of his hearing range, then past the emergency 
vehicles, then past the news vans that had formed an outer perimeter 
around the scene.  "Move on," she whispered, "right."

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

	Ranma trudged up the stairs to her apartment.  She felt utterly 
exhausted and defeated.  Every bone, every cell in her body was 
desperate to collapse, and she wanted nothing more than to relinquish 
her hold on consciousness and fall to the ground right where she was.  
She forced herself to keep moving, but it seemed like her depression 
formed a tangible aura around her, acting like a waist-deep pool of mud 
to slow her progress.  If she had been in a different time, her Shi Shi 
Hokodan could have destroyed an entire city block that night.  Maybe it 
was better that her ki-based attacks had long since been forgotten, 
buried deep in the dusty corners of her memories and replaced with the 
knowledge of modern tools such as firearms.

	She wouldn't, couldn't deny it.  Part of her wanted to use the 
gun hidden in her jacket pocket; all it would take would be a brief 
second to blow a hole in her head and rid herself of this mess once and 
for all.  Or she could wait until she got home; the sword was waiting, 
like always-- one swift stroke and she could do what her mother had 
never been able to accomplish.

Something stopped her, though, just like it stopped her every time 
her thoughts took this path.  As Hiroshi had pointed out, she still had 
a job to do.  Akane was out there somewhere, helpless in the hands of 
greedy, evil men who would not hesitate to kill not only Akane, but 
anybody, if they thought it would be in their best interests.  A decade 
ago, her life in shambles, she had clung to the one thing she still 
valued and taken an oath to be a force for good-- for honor, and right, 
and justice.  Killing herself would be like letting the Yakuza win.  
And ten years ago, she had sworn to fight.

	That didn't mean she liked the overwhelming odds they were up 
against.  They didn't know where Akane was, and not even Nabiki could 
help them now-- not like she would want to; Ranma doubted that Akane's 
sister would look kindly upon her failures.  On top of that, the Yakuza 
would probably be treating Nabiki with suspicion.  Contacting her might 
not even be possible anymore.

	She was stuck.  She had to find the Yakuza, and quickly-- Akane's 
life rested on it, and possibly the lives of other innocent civilians, 
if the Yakuza got their hands on that weapons shipment from Misato.  
Well, no matter, she thought grimly.  If necessary, she would blockade 
the entire Misato Industries building to keep the Yakuza from getting 
at what they wanted.

	For now, though, she needed sleep, and desperately.  She didn't 
know if she would be able to sleep; pain, guilt, and depression wracked 
every corner of her being, but she was betting that sheer exhaustion 
would win out.  Maybe things would seem better after a good night's 
rest; probably not, but there was always hope.

	She finally reached her door; fishing through her pockets for her 
keys, she pulled them out and flipped to her apartment key.  She turned 
the key, noting as she did so that the lock seemed to rattle a little 
more than normal.  She was too tired to pay it much mind, though. She 
opened the door, and suddenly her eyes widened in shock as she saw a 
man standing behind the kitchen counter, holding a gun pointed directly 
at her.

	She struggled to overcome her initial shock and start moving, but 
he fired, and a sharp pain raced through her arm as she ducked behind 
the wall.  The first shot was followed by five more, and all of them 
whizzed through the empty air Ranma had been standing in moments 
earlier.  She could tell from the sound that not all of them had come 
from the same place in the apartment.  There was more than one gunman 
in there, and all of them were more awake and alert than she was.

	Blood trickled from the hole in her coat where the bullet had 
hit.  She winced, clenching her teeth as she quickly took off her coat 
and looked down at the wound.  She was relieved to see that the 
bleeding wasn't bad-- it looked as though the bullet had only grazed 
her arm, and she had avoided a direct hit.

	Quickly retrieving her gun from her discarded coat, she breathed 
deeply in an effort to clear her mind and focus the adrenaline that was 
already pumping in her system.  The pain in her arm dulled, and the 
thoughts and depression that had haunted her mind just a few seconds 
earlier were now fading into nothingness.

	Her heartbeat racing now, she looked over at the doorway to her 
apartment.  It was less than a meter away, and she inched towards it, 
her back pressed against the wall.  She pointed her gun at the open 
doorway and slowly stood up, listening closely for some sign of her 
attackers.

	Coming from within the apartment, she heard slow, soft footsteps 
approaching her position.  She leaned up against the wall right next to 
the doorway, and braced herself briefly before cocking her gun and 
firing into the room, aiming in the general direction she had heard the 
footsteps from.

	Shots were fired in return, and she pulled back behind the wall, 
waiting only a split second before glancing inside the door.  She 
couldn't see anybody, and she struggled to keep her breathing under 
control as she held her gun at the ready.

	Suddenly, someone hiding behind the couch fired a gun blindly 
toward the door.  She fell back but kept her gun trained on the couch.  
As soon as the man looked up from his hiding place, she fired twice and 
the man screamed as he fell backwards in a spray of blood, then after a 
brief second there was silence again.

	That took care of one attacker.  There was another one behind the 
kitchen counter, and she didn't know if there might be any others.  
Quickly, she jumped past the doorway to the other side, giving her a 
better angle to see the kitchen.  She shot at the counter, but nobody 
returned her fire.  She inched forward, holding her gun at the ready, 
and after a few seconds gunshots sounded, and Ranma inched back behind 
her cover.  Peering out, she didn't see anything, but whoever had just 
fired at her had fired from the direction of the kitchen.

	By her count, there were eight shots left in her current clip.  
She wondered if she would need to change it out for a spare, but as she 
hesitated three more shots were fired from inside and one penetrated 
the wall, leaving behind a hole less than an inch from her face.  
Wiping a thin line of sweat from her forehead, she slowly moved 
toward the door.  It was time to end this, and end it now.

	She fired two shots into the room, prompting the attackers inside 
to return fire.  She paused briefly, and a second after the gunshots 
stopped, she burst through into the room, gun at the ready, and 
immediately saw one of the attackers crouching against the wall near 
the door.  She fired once, putting a bloody hole through his forehead, 
then turned just as the person behind the counter raised his gun to 
fire.  She shot him in the arm, sending his gun flying backwards.  
Quickly, she dashed around the counter and sent another bullet through 
his shoulder just as he reached out to retrieve his weapon.
	
	Ranma turned back toward the main area of the apartment, but 
everything was silent.  She sighed heavily, then walked over to the man 
lying in her kitchen and kicked his gun away from where it had fallen, 
sending it spinning toward the far wall.  Then she knelt down next to 
him, idly twirling her own gun between her fingers.  "What's your name, 
boy?"

	"What business is it of yours?" he spat.

	She leveled her gun at his forehead.  "You broke in my apartment 
and you tried to kill me," she hissed, the anger in her voice causing 
him to flinch back. "That's why it's my business, you fucking bastard."

	With a visible effort, she suppressed her anger, then grabbed a 
nearby towel and applied it as a compress to his wound.  "You've going 
have a lot of questions to answer, pal."

	Standing up, she offered him a twisted smile.  "Of course," she 
chuckled, "if you don't cooperate, it's not a big deal-- you'll just 
have to spend the next forty years of your life getting gang-raped 
every day in the prison showers."  He suddenly looked very worried, 
and she laughed.  "If you do cooperate-- well, maybe we can work out 
some arrangement, eh?"

	Her first phone call was to emergency services, even though it 
was likely that the neighbors had already made that call.  Her 
apartment was in the corner of the building, so she hadn't been worried 
about stray rounds going into neighboring apartments, but a couple 
dozen rounds fired in a generally peaceful area of town would likely 
throw everybody within a hundred meters into a panic.

	Her second phone call was to the office.  Strangely enough, the 
murder attempt had actually been good for her; being able to take 
direct action against the Yakuza had washed the depression from her 
mind, and in its place was anger-- and determination.  Sleep was out 
of the question now; hunting down the Yakuza had just become an 
around-the-clock operation.

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

	Ranma sipped at a cup of hot black coffee, annoyed that she had 
been reduced to a level where she would be forced to drink coffee to 
stay awake.  As much as she wanted to beat the hell out of some Yakuza, 
there just weren't a lot of leads to go on, and she couldn't keep her 
adrenaline up at the level necessary for it to keep her awake.

	The past few hours had seen her mostly filling out dispositions 
about the incident at her apartment and struggling to get permission 
from the hospital to interrogate their Yakuza prisoner.  His wounds 
hadn't been that serious, and finally the doctors had reluctantly 
agreed to let police investigators in.  Now there was nothing to do but 
wait for the results.  The man was probably low on the Yakuza food 
chain, so there wasn't much hope, but at this point it was all the hope 
they had.

	Now, she found herself struggling to stay awake as she and 
Hiroshi waited in Lieutenant Kusaka's office, waiting for him to show 
up.  Hiroshi sipped at his own cup of coffee, and across from them a 
digital clock read "3:51 a.m."

	Finally, the door burst open, and Kusaka walked in.  His tie was 
pulled down loose around his neck, and the top button of his shirt was 
undone.  He looked completely frazzled, and for good reason.  As soon 
as the events of the night had begun unfolding, he had been right in 
the midst of it, and had even made his way down to the Ucchan's before 
hearing about Ranma and heading over to her apartment, where she had 
been struggling to convince the homicide division not to take her into 
custody.

	When they had returned to the office, they had arrived in time to 
watch a live video feed of firefighters extinguishing the remnants of 
the fire that had reduced the Tendo Dojo to ashes-- literally.  There 
was nothing left, and a precursory investigation had shown that the fire 
was likely started with high-yield explosives of the kind usually only 
the military could get its hands on.  It had clearly been meant to send 
a message to Nabiki Tendo, and possibly to the police as well.  The 
game had entered a whole new stage, and now they found themselves 
playing catch-up to the Yakuza.

	But for the first time in several hours, there was hope.  Kusaka 
smiled, and slammed a folder onto his desk.  Then, he let himself fall 
into his chair and sighed contentedly.  "Well, you two will be glad to 
know that we finally have something solid to go on."  He picked up the 
folder he had brought in.  "Initial interrogation results for the 
captured Yakuza, a young man by the name of--" he flipped open the 
folder, "Tomatsu Fuchida.  Now, this guy was about as low on the food 
chain as they come, but unlike Nagumo, he was able to provide us with 
an address, as well as a description of someone who is apparently a 
high-ranking Yakuza member."

	"What about a name?" asked Ranma.

	"Unfortunately, no name," Kusaka replied.  "But I've already sent 
an undercover unit to scope out the place.  We should be hearing back 
from them before too long, and it'll be up to you two to start making 
plans for a raid."

	"What about the hostage situation?" asked Hiroshi.

	"Well, obviously, we'll have to come up with a way to minimize 
the risk to the hostage," Kusaka frowned.  "But there's only one, so 
it's not too big of a deal."

	Ranma fidgeted in her chair.  "Sir," she said, "with all due 
respect, I feel responsible for this hostage.  It's my fault that she's 
in this situation now, and I would like make every possible attempt to 
free the hostage before conducting a raid."

	"I understand where you're coming from, Saotome."  Kusaka leaned 
forward, resting his elbows on his desk.  "This thing goes way beyond 
one person, though.  We can't afford to jeopardize this chance that's 
been given to us for the sake of one life."

	Ranma thought for a moment, then leaned forward again and said, 
"Actually, sir, I have an idea.  If we can get one person into the 
building, that should allow us to free the hostage as well as take 
stock of any weaponry the Yakuza might have, and potentially neutralize 
that weaponry prior to a police raid."

	"That's pretty ambitious, Saotome, not to mention risky.  What 
exactly do you have in mind?"

	"Well," Ranma fidgeted again, "that's the tricky part.  But I 
have an idea.  We need Nabiki Tendo's cooperation."

	"Tendo?"  Kusaka raised an eyebrow.  "After tonight?  Are you 
serious?"

	"Give me one opportunity," Ranma met Kusaka's gaze evenly.  "One 
opportunity, and I can turn her.  If I can't, we'll find another way."

	Kusaka pursed his lips, drumming his fingers on his desk as he 
thought it over.  "Juzo, will you excuse us, please?"

	Hiroshi hesitated, glancing at Ranma then back at Kusaka.  "Yes, 
sir."  He got up and left, leaving Ranma and Kusaka alone in the office.

	"You're a good officer, Saotome, and I know that what happened at 
the restaurant wasn't your fault," he said.  "But you have to 
understand that after I trusted you on your last plan, I'm kind of 
reluctant to do so again."

	"I understand, sir," said Ranma.  "I made a mistake, but this 
time I really think my plan gives us our best chance of success.  It 
minimizes the risk, and if worse comes to worse then we still know 
where they are, and we can still conduct a raid if necessary.  At least 
let me try, sir.  I think I can convince Nabiki to help us, and if I 
can, then this will almost certainly work.  If I can't convince her, 
then I still don't think she'd give us away to the Yakuza."

	Kusaka raised an eyebrow curiously.  "What makes you so confident 
of that?"

	"Because she hates them," Ranma leaned forward, more energy 
seeming to creep into her voice now.  "They've threatened her, they've 
hurt her family, and now I think she'll do anything she can to make 
sure they don't win-- not because she's a moral person, but because she 
believes in revenge.  Even if she doesn't want to help us, she won't 
hinder us."

	"Maybe."  Kusaka leaned back in his chair, thinking.  "You seem 
awfully sure of that."  He frowned for a moment, then smiled wryly.  
"All right, so let's say we decide to try and put a person inside 
first.  Let me guess.  You'd want to be the one person."

	Ranma didn't miss a beat.  "Yes, sir."

	"This isn't some kind of redeem-your-honor thing, is it?"'

	"No, sir," she replied.  Actually, it was, but she wasn't about 
to let him know that.  "I feel that I'm the best qualified person to do 
it."

	"At least I can always count on you for an honest appraisal of 
your own skill," Kusaka raised an eyebrow.  "We'll see.  In the 
meantime, you've got twenty-four hours to contact Nabiki."

	Ranma got up.  "Thank you, sir.  I'll get to work right away."

	"Oh, and Saotome?"

	"Yes, sir?"

	"Find some time to get some sleep," he said.  "If you're to pull 
this off, I have a feeling you'll need to be well-rested."

	"Yes, sir."  She turned to go, but stopped in mid-step.  "Oh, by 
the way..."

	"Yes?"

	"It's just that," Ranma scratched her head, "we've already gotten 
what we need out of Fuchida, but we only got permission to question 
him about an hour and a half ago.  Not that I'm complaining, but how 
did you get it done so quick?  Usually stuff like this takes all day."

	"Well," he answered, "we couldn't go as in depth as we usually 
like to, since it took place in a hospital.  You know, paranoid doctors 
and all that.  On top of that, according to his file..." he leafed 
through the papers in the folder, "he seemed unusually willing to 
cooperate.  I can't explain that one."

	Ranma thought for a moment, then chuckled, and Kusaka watched her 
in confusion as she left his office and walked down the hallway 
laughing.	

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

	Nabiki was not in one of her better moods.  For some reason, her 
sister getting kidnapped always seemed to leave her feeling less than 
happy.  Then there had the destruction of the Dojo, and on top of that 
the phone call from Rosuke, which had been fifteen minutes of gloating 
intermixed with death threats.  It made her want to kill something, but 
there was nothing immediately available, and she somehow doubted that 
the Tokyo Police would let her get far enough into their headquarters 
to strangle a certain redheaded bastard who she had been stupid enough 
to trust.

	Then there was the issue of what to do now.  Even as she walked 
into her office, she wondered if she was being watched.  They wouldn't 
be able to get into the building, at least not by straightforward 
means-- security was something Misato Industries prided itself on, but 
that didn't mean there weren't holes in it that could be exploited by 
someone with the necessary tools and knowledge.

	Her biggest worry was some sort of bug planted in her office that 
would allow them to spy on her.  She certainly wasn't worried about a 
murder attempt or something like that; there were easier places to do 
that than here, and either way, it didn't matter.  The Yakuza needed 
her alive, so she didn't have to worry about that-- yet.  Even if they 
had planted a bug, she thought, it didn't really matter.  It wasn't 
like she was planning anything.  Ranma's failure to protect Akane had 
ended her last desperate bid to get out of the trap the Yakuza had set 
for her, and that had failed.  She had no Plan B; it now looked as 
though her best bet for saving Akane and herself lay in cooperating 
with the Yakuza.

	At least her father was apparently not in their hands- Rosuke had 
failed to mention her father's whereabouts, choosing instead to focus 
on their capture of her sister.  She wanted to find out where he was, 
but now that her sister's life was directly in danger she was afraid to 
contact the police, even through her usual methods, and on top of that 
she was still too angry at Ranma to ask for help from them.

	She greeted her secretary, who returned the greeting and handed 
her the morning mail.  She sorted through it, and came upon an 
official-looking letter with a return address she didn't recognize.  
She studied it for a moment, then realized that the stamp hadn't been 
postmarked-- this was not a letter that had gotten here through the 
postal system.  She turned to her secretary.  "Was this in the 
mailbox?" she asked.

	"Yes, ma'am," replied the woman.  "Why?"

	"No reason," she muttered as she walked into her office.  
Curiously, she tucked the rest of her mail under her arm and opened the 
strange envelope, pulling out a single sheet of paper.  Unfolding it, 
she read not a typical letter, but a simple curt note.

	Reserve a conference room for 2 pm today
	To meet with a Miss Remi Shiamata
	Be outside your office to meet her
	A life- and jail time- is at stake

	There was no signature, but Nabiki didn't need one to know who it 
was from.  Even without the last line, it would have perfectly 
obvious.  Angrily, she ripped the letter in two, then put the pieces in 
the envelope, and ripped the envelope.  Then she crumpled the whole 
thing into a ball and tossed it into a nearby trash can.  She kicked 
the trash can for good measure, then walked to her desk and began 
tackling the day's work.