“Ranma!” Nabiki breathed, her heart still in her chest, her mind empty of all other than that single thought.

He was dead, she had seen the body, had attended the grave, had even wept behind her dark veil as she had listened to the eulogies of the women who had loved him and the men that had loved them.

None of which seemed to be stopping him standing there, his dark mandarin style suit a stark contrast to the startling red of his hair and the livid white scar on his cheek. None of which seemed to be able to obscure that grin or the calm self assurance that had melted so many hearts.

None of which did anything to stop the way his storm blue-grey eyes were shining with life, intelligence and recognition.

“Heya Nabs” he offered, his voice that same steel and silk, “Sorry ‘bout this” he told her and she did the only last rational thing left in the world, she feinted.

The bed was warm and comfortable, the mattress soft and luxuriant. In short there was nothing In the world that was going to get Sato Nabiki up right now, not even wild horses.

“RANMA!” she exclaimed, bolting upright and jerking to full wakefulness in a moment. Her eyes were wild, her hair flashing around her face as it caught up and her mind left for a moment behind.

Had she dreamt it, had she imagined the whole lot as some strange leftover of airline food, was the shrine a ….

She stopped that line of thought as she made out the details around her, this was definitely not her room, from the tasteful shori walls to the exquisite silken covers, from the simple lacquered furniture to the tea set that waited for her this was definitely not the sort of thing she would have spent enough money to have for herself.

Anymore than she remembered owning a red silken sleeping kimono of anything near this design.

“Oh hell!” she whispered, her mind conjuring up all sort of scenarios involving drugged tea and or poisoned handshakes to explain why she might have had such a vivid dream before the priest’s cohorts had kidnapped her.

She was no fool, she knew that she was attractive, and even knew what sorts of prices someone would have to pay for that kind of beauty in Osaka. She knew what happened to large numbers of girls who fell into the hands of mobsters every year in the dark streets of the unacknowledged subculture of Japan’s third city. She knew what sort of man owned a traditional bedroom like this in a city where power wealth and corruption went hand in hand, she had been married to a man who had fled the life.

She knew she was in deep.

“Would you like some tea Sato-sama” offered a voice and Nabiki’s heart nearly stopped again as she whipped around to behold a traditionally dressed woman who seemed to literally appeared from nowhere.

“Ah” Nabiki offered, her mind telling her all sorts of things about drugs and addictions and control mechanisms for new ‘recruits’

“Ranma-dono asked me to see to you while he was otherwise engaged” the woman told the stuttering journalist, giving absolutely no sign as to whether she had noticed the indecision or not.

“Ranma” Nabiki replied, her mind finally beginning to accept information again, “Ranma told you?” she asked

“Ranma-dono asked me” The woman corrected, and even in the state she was in Nabiki did not miss the hint of steel in the correction. Obviously this woman did not appreciate the assumptions inherent in the journalist’s question.

She was also clearly expecting a reply about the tea.

Nabs could only do one thing at that point and quickly she was stretching and padding across the mats on her way to joining the other woman at the low table. Which is about when another imperative made itself very known, one that was perhaps a little more pressing than tea.

“Bathroom?” Nabiki asked in a sudden hurry and the woman responded in kind, pointing a hand towards one of the sliding doors. Whatever else she said was lost as Nabiki bolted for said door as fast as her feet could carry her.

The door slid aside, steam rolled and Nabiki found herself looking at a scene that could almost have been written into a certain man’s horoscope. There was Ranma, butt naked and damp, fresh out of the furo with only a blush for modesty.

The door whisked closed and Nabiki’s new ‘friend’ was hitting her with one of the harshest glares since Nodoka found out about the lingerie shots.

“But” the woman enunciated, “The master is in there” she said, having clearly been saying as much while Nabiki had been running, “and you will have to use the other door!” she insisted.

Nabiki, or her part, was back on firmer ground now, was actually feeling like she had a bit of a grip on this reality around her, so instead of being cowed as she might otherwise have been, she replied, “It would be more fun my way.”

“And Besides” she added, “it’s nothing I haven’t seen before” she said, a smile playing over her lips as she turned to the other door to go around to where she guessed the other entrance to the bathroom was.

The turn was not however incidental, any more than the smile, the truth was that the last time she had seen that sight Ranma had been still a teenager, and certainly not the very well full grown man she had just seen, VERY well full grown.

The woman in question, who Nabiki was already starting to think of as ‘the dragon lady’ and only partly because of the design on her kimono, just humphed in reply. But Nabiki had heard enough of those from her sister to recognise the hint of deep green jealousy in it.

“Some things really haven’t changed” she whispered to herself as she settled in to do the necessaries, now convinced more than ever that she was in the right place.