Disclaimer: I don't own Ranma. But that's okay, because he's a jerk.

Debating to write a Fate Stay/Night fic led to this. I wanted to write it, but I was convinced I was a bad writer and shouldn't do it. So I started reading Wild Blue again to convince me to not to write. It's been so long since I've wrote it, that I can't even acknowledge it as something I wrote myself. I was a stranger to it... But as I read Wild Blue, I realized it was pretty damn good. I enjoyed reading it! Way more then the crap Fate fics I've been reading lately. And then it was, "Oh boy, I wish the author would update!" At some point I realized I was the author, and If I wanted to see where it went, I'd have to do it myself.

Anyways, this is a side story. There's a reason for this. Mostly an experiment to see if I can simplify my writing and keep it as powerful (wild blue is too ambitious, srry guys). It probably won't be as good, but it's something. I may not even proof read it. That's too much effort, and I'm willing to content myself with the victory of writing rather then the victory of writing something polished and awesome. Such is life.

The Angry Ghost

The world was truly a dark and cruel place.

There was a time where he thought it might be different, that there was a speck of love and happiness available for him. However that time was all gone, awash in flames and ashes.

The life that he had found, that he had learned to love, was gone. Where there once was room for love, was now a gaping hole of loss in his soul. It made him feel hollow, heavy... Empty. He embraced that emptiness, allowing it to both empower and diminish him. He was tireless now, but also a shade of what he was was. A shadowy wraith wandering the land.

So he wandered, as he always did. Except this time he had no goal, no destination. How long did he travel? Months? Years? He didn't care. He kept going. Towns, cities, jungles, swamps... He slipped through them all, like a shadow on a march.

He tried to avoid cities, but the journey took him where the journey wanted. He hated cities. Too many people. People made him remember what he lost, so he ignored them. They seemed to ignore him as well, allowing him passage unnoticed. He truly had become a ghost, and he did not care.

He was in a rural area now, the sights awash with the browns and greens hues of nature. He enjoyed nature; the tranquility of it almost put him at peace. Almost.

Unfortunately, the rural wilderness of this area was tainted. There was a town a head, a small one with a simple port. He'd simply reach the shore line and fade. He tired of the air of this place, anyways, and wished to leave.

He walked through the town, advancing towards the waters edge. Hopefully the next place the journey took him would-

"We're with Cipher Pol! We're hear to kill the revolutionary leaders!" cried out a child-like voice. The ghost stopped, startled out of his reverie. He focussed his gaze on the thing that just spoke. He was content to ignore humanity, however the owner of the voice was too bizarre to simply forget. The man, if it could be called that, was as large as it was spherical. It's body was that of a great ball, with twig like arms and legs, and dressed in a black suit. His mouth seemed to have a zipper attached to it, and it spoke with the voice of a child! It was huge, towering above almost everything else. The ghost chuckled at the sight of the thing, amused by it's grotesqueness.

"YOYOI! FUKUROU! We're supposed to be under cover! Now we gotta do this hard!" yelled another towering giant, apparently in the company of the ballman. He was almost as large, and wore face paint and had a great mane of hair. Over his shoulder he hefted a huge staff. The ghost thought his hair made him look lion-like.

"Great. Just great. Fukurou, just typical! Now we gotta kill everyone!" a third man yelled angrily. This one was normal-sized, and wore a goatee and a pigtail, as well as black oriental shirts and pants. Sunglasses rested on his forehead and across his left eye, there was a jagged scar. The man's pigtail and raiment reminded the ghost of a someone he once knew, but that was where the similarities ended. There was something sharp to this man, an air of danger present around him. He turned to the crowd of people around him, no scrambling in horror. The crowd was panicking now, and began scattering in all directions. "Now you're all dead! All you revolutionaries!"

As the crowd began to disperse, more more men rushed forward armed with swords and pistols. The revolutionaries? Or perhaps the town militia? the ghost wasn't sure, but that did not matter. Soldier and Innocent was crushed under the trios boot heel alike. They were truly beasts, the Ghost realized, as they tore into all around them with supernatural precision and speed. They dogged after the fleeing townspeople, viciously tossing them around like rag dolls. Blood was in the air.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, the ghost felt compelled. He watched the mayhem, torn in indecision. Old ideals fought with his desire to be left alone. Dare he interfere?

He watched as Lionhair skewered a woman with his staff, watched the blood run down the weapon, felt her spark of life leave her... He knew what he must do to do.

"NO!" cried the ghost, drawing attention to himself to the first time in months. He growled angrily, channeling his power. The hollowness in his soul expanded around him, leaking the very fires of his spirit to the world to see. He bathed himself in a sickly green flame, channeling this force for the first time in months. In the back of his mind, he noted this was the greatest it had ever been. "No more slaughter."

The stocky man with the goatee and pigtail growled, and stomped towards the strange newcomer. He was either arrogant or stupid, perhaps both, but he was unafraid of the ghost bathed in green flames. "Who do you think you're talking to, man? We're the CP9!" The ghost paid no heed to the warning, and simply rushed forward and struck the man. There was a huge flash of green light as the ghost's fist made contact, the sound of thunder, and then the pigtailed man went flying.

"Jyabura!" cried out the ballthing, it's child like voice almost a squeal. His stubby arms dropped the body of a man he just crushed. The ghost felt the victim slipping away, the embers of life cooling and fading. The fat ball creature and Lionhair, noticing their comrade was so quickly dispatched, began to hesitantly advance on the ghost.

The ball-thing darted forward with uncanny speed. "JUGON!" it cried, managing to strike the ghost in the chest. The blow was no normal punch, and the ghost could read the thing's power flowing through it like a book. The power left it's fist on contact with the ghost, becoming a stinging like strike that stabbed deep into his body. It was supposed to be a piercing move, the ghost realized, but it failed to cause the ghost any damage more then a sharp pain. He absorbed the feeling with grunt. He'd taken worse in the past, and he was much greater now.

The fat ball creature gaped in surprise at how effortlessly it's attack was rejected. That moment of confusion was all it took for the ghost to grab forward and grip it be the collar. The ghost laughed, and hoisted himself on top of the whimpering ballman. From his new vantage, he reared his fist back and struck the grotesque mockery between the eyes, a bright green flash accompanying the blow. The ballman squealed in agony as the sizzling fist impacted his face. The ghost struck a second time with another flashing green punch, resulting in a second pathetic cry. He hopped off the ball thing and spat on it, leaving it mewling pathetically as it crumpled on the ground.

Lionhair, who had been more hesitant and cautious until now, advanced with his staff, jabbing the point forward like lightning. The ghost deftly dodged, and grabbed the outstretched staff in his left hand. He held it effortlessly with one hand, refusing to let go. Frustrated, Lionhair began to tug at the staff, trying to reclaim it. It wouldn't budge.

The ghost laughed, and began channeling the sickly fire of his aura into his free hand hand. The green flames that surrounded the shadowy warrior and began to collect into his palm. It formed into a sphere the size of a softball, before ballooning greatly in size. The ghost smiled darkly, and began to squeeze the swelling power, forcing in back into the softball-sized shape. By compressing so much it, it became so much more potent and focussed.

"Yoyoi! What's this?" cried Lionhair in bewilderment and fear. He wasn't used to being afraid, the ghost noted. Good.

"Shishi..." the ghost whispered, in almost a silent prayer, "...Hokodan!"

The sickly green ball shot out from his palm, and flying true. It struck Lionhair, bathing him in green light and pushing him back dozens of meters with in seconds. He skidded across the ground pitifully, leaving a huge trail of upturned soil as the blast carried him away. Finally, it dissipated, leaving Lionhair limp in a small crater over fifty meters away from where last stood.

The ghost grinned evilly, and turned his attention back to the ballman. The creature was still mewling pathetically, nursing the two blows the ghost had delivered before. The ghost grabbed the fool by it's spindly feet, and hoisted the ballman in the air. Then, with a deafening crash, he slammed the creature back into the ground. A huge cloud of dust kicked up into the air at the impact, as well as another flash of green. The ballmen gave a brief squeek before consciousness fled it.

The ghost wasn't done, though. He felt GOOD. He continued to slam. Blood began to flow, green light booming with each strike as the mutilated body met the earth again and again. The ghost was cackling now, lost in the thrill of delivering pain.

"DROP THE OWL! RANKYAKU!" a hoarse voice called. The ghost felt the power, felt the danger. He discarded the ballman, and jerked aside just in time. He felt a gust of wind, a stinging sensation, and looked down to find his shirt slashed and a small bleeding gash on his chest. He had had not been struck directly however... It was as if the very air had cut him.

He growled, and turned to face his new opponent... And blinked in surprise. Facing him a dozen feet away was the the goatee-pigtailed guy from before... However... He wasn't even human anymore. He stood twice as tall, three times as wide... Fur had sprouted all over his body, and huge teethed jaw had replaced his old face. He even had a tail.

He had become a wolfman.

"RANKYAKU!" the wolfman cried, slashing angrily from his leg. The ghost sensed the power from the attack, and braced himself to dodge. He felt a breeze, like before, and narrowly dodged the slash of wind. Not fast enough, however, as another cut appeared on his arm. The ghost growled; speed was never his strong suit. Too many of those storm kicks could end him. "There's no holding back now! Inu Inu Fruit! Model: Wolf!"

"Who do you think you are that you think you can mess with CP9?" the wolf demanded, rearing his leg up for another of those razor sharp kicks. The ghost had no answer, and simply began gathering his green fire into his hand like before.



The air blade met the green flame in midair and tore through it. The wolfman was frozen in shock. His air kick had diminished it, but the fiery green blast was still huge. "TEKKAI!" the wolf managed to call out, freezing into a new stance.

The ghost watched curiously, as the wolfman took the blast head long. He felt the power flow through the wolf, like before, this time defensively. A protection technique? Would it help? "Ite ite!" the wolf complained, brushing his long clawed hands through his fur. "Hot!" A shame, the ghost thought. He could absorb the impact, but not the heat. Most of the bite of the attack was in the impact.

The ghost growled, and fired another. The wolfman eeped, and resumed the same stance as before, preparing to absorb the impact. The ghost followed this shot however, and launched a cruel blow to the wolf's immense gut. Green light blazed with the strike. "OOP!" the wolf gasped, his shield technique shuddering.

The ghost was on him now, with an onslaught of punch after punch, kick after kick. Green light bathed everything, as each blow from the ghost flashed emerald. "Tekkai Kenpo!" the wolf yelled, desperately trying to defend and attack with the technique on. He tried to claw and kick, but the ghost either dodged or ignored the wolfman's attempts. The ghosts blows were even mightier then the wolf's, each one shaking the core of his opponent. The ghost could feel the power of his foe's defensive technique faltering with each hit. No quarter, was made.

"AWOOOO!" the wolf howled as each strike left him more and more diminished. The shield of the 'tekkai' was cracked now. The ghost grabbed both the arms of his opponent and locked them underneath his arms, pinning them. Grinning fiercely, the ghost followed the grapple with a fierce head butt. The wolf let loose another mewling howl as it flinched, now stunned from the blow.

The ghost cackled happily, immersed in the joy of battle! Still holding the wolf's immense arms, he began channeling his sickly green aura into the sky above him. He had the wolf where he wanted him, and there was no escape. The townsfolk were clear now, and the blast could come cascading down and destroy these things. Despite the empty power he was channeling, he never felt more alive! He'd kill these monsters with his greatest attack, and continue on from-

He twitched and he felt a cold drop on his forehead.


More drops continued to fall, knocking him from battle-reverie, his dark thoughts of murder. Soon it was a full down poor. The water enveloped the ghost, and he cursed himself for his luck. He felt the sensation of falling, twisting, and shrinking. Of all the times...

The ghost squealed angrily, trying to move his new form from the clothes he was trapped in. He had to get away before the wolf figured it out.

The wolfman shifted himself to human again as he picked himself off from the ground, still quite stunned. He blinked a few times, and his glare started darting around suddenly, searching for an opponent who was now nowhere to be seen. He dropped to his knees, his hands running through the Ghost's discarded clothing. He blinked in surprise, finding a small piglet nestled inside. Wolfman picked up the pig in bewilderment, causing it to squeal in rage. A look of insight and understanding suddenly blossomed onto the wolf's face. "So that's what happened!"

Oh no.

"HAH! He's afraid of me! He used, like, a ninja replacement trick or something to escape!" the wolfman declared happily. "Stupid guy! Ninjas are supposed to use logs and stuff! Not pigs!"

The ghost was dumbfounded, becoming frozen in the wolfman' hands. Saved by such foolishness...

Lionhair came trotting up behind the wolf, gasping for air. "Fukurou... He's messed up pretty bad...!" Lionhair moaned, as he limped towards the ghost and the wolfman. He looked badly beaten, his clothes destroyed and covered in soot. Despite his dire tone and appearance, he picked up in excitement, "...but so are the targets! Yoyoiyoi! I slipped away to finish the mission!"

The ghost glared. He'd kill them all when the chance came, he just needed to get away. He spun around, trying to flip himself up and bite the wolfman's fingers, however the wolfman ignored the attempt and kept talking. "That guy was something else! I managed to scare him off!"

"I knew Jyabura could handle it!" Lionhair puffed up and patted the wolfman on his shoulder. He paused for a moment, examining the ghost in his changed form, stuck in wolfman's hands "Yoyoi! What do you got there?" he asked, as the ghost finally succeeded in biting the hand that held him.

"Ahhh! This pig has attitude!" the wolfman declared happily, nearly dropping the pigletified ghost. The wolfman obliviously tossed the transformed ghost in the air, and caught him between his palms. "He's a ninja pig! He's way cooler then Lucci's pigeon! I'm keeping him!"

Ninja pig?

The angry ghost was not amused.

Authors notes: Fun times. I bet you can guess who the 'Ghost' is easy. He's not quite human anymore, and very powerful. Remember kids, don't do Shishihokodans!

Update: I suppose it should be noted that I made it so Fukurou is no longer killed. I don't know if I ever want to continue Wild Blue, but I wasn't comfortable letting the story lie on that note. Truthfully, the whole fic is a giant mess that embarrasses me, and it was all I could do to stop myself from making more edits.