It is with great sorrow that I report the passing of Cologne, for so long the leader of our people, after a lengthy illness. Her wisdom and guidance will be sorely missed. I only pray I may live up to her example.

My name is Ranma Saotome, and I have been chosen to succeed her as chieftain of the Nyuchiezu. I was not born into the tribe (indeed, I was not born a great many things), but was selected to the position six years ago, after Cologne's great-granddaughter and sole heir, Shampoo, perished in battle. I had fought alongside Shampoo in several battles, and distinguished myself in the elder's eyes enough to warrant her controversial decision.

Before I go any further, I feel it necessary to bring to light several details of my varied past. I was born in the Nerima ward of Tokyo, Japan, the only son of Nodoka and Genma Saotome, and was originally expected to carry on my family's school of martial arts, the Musebetsu Kaketou Ryuu (an honor I hold jointly with my Nyuchiezu responsibilities). For the first fifteen years of my life I lived as a man, and traveled around Japan to seek perfection in the art.

In my sixteenth year of life, the first seeds of change were planted, as my father and I journeyed to China to train. We happened upon an old training ground known as 'Jusenkyo', but knew nothing of the magic the place held. We both soon discovered it, though, as the strange water there weaved its spells around us. The pools transformed my father into a giant panda, and changed me into the form I now wear - that of a female.

-- Beginning of Journals of Ranma Saotome, 108th Chieftain of the Nyuchiezu.

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Succession

The fourth and final part of the Sunrise Chronicles

All relevant characters property of Rumiko Takahashi. All other characters property of me. All rights reserved. I must ask that you not do anything with any part of this work without the author's permission.

Note: this story takes place six years after the events portrayed in "Sunrise Chronicles pt. 1" and two years before the events in "Sunrise".

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"What a night..."

Ranma Saotome hurriedly opened the door to the chieftain's house, then closed it just as quickly to shut out the elements. The young healer reached a tired hand up to unclasp her cloak, allowing the dark garment to fall to the floor. She leaned against the door for a moment, giving her tired bones the slightest bit of respite before moving on.

The job of village healer (and that of chieftain, though she had yet to hold that title) was not an easy one, as it dealt intimately with two primal, opposite concerns of human existence: life and death. Earlier tonight, she had relished in the work of the former, as she gave assistance to a young Amazon giving birth. Trying work, but the rewards - the hearty cry of the infant, the glow of joy in the mother's eyes - these far outweighed the toil involved.

Unfortunately, with life must come its ending, and it was now time for her to deal with this other aspect. She climbed the stairs slowly, a creak echoing through the house with each step. Her feet shuffled down the hallway to the furthest door, which she opened.

"So...*hack*...my ungrateful pupil decided to come and visit me after all."

Ranma involuntarily stiffened, disheartened at the sight of the once-proud warrior. Cologne shivered under the many blankets, her small body experiencing the early stages of final breakdown. Great pain showed in her old eyes, but they shone with happiness in Ranma's presence. The heir looked at the subtle clues - the ragged breath, the shaking in her gnarled hands, the irregular throbbing of her temple - and knew Cologne would probably not see the dawn. Ranma sat down next to the bed, and brushed a few locks of hair from the old woman's face. Cologne looked at her successor, then glanced around to the others in the room.

"Leave us. I must speak with... *cough*... with Ranma alone." The few there filed out of the room, leaving the wisdom of the village alone.

"So. How did it go?"

Ranma shrugged, in a vain attempt to appear calm. "It went well. Lin had a beautiful baby girl, with her mother's eyes." She bit her thumbnail for a moment. "They... they named her after you, you know."

Cologne nodded, and smiled weakly. "Good. It's nice to *hack,cough*...know that life goes on. Ranma... *cough*... will you spend one last night with an old woman?"

"L-Last night? Come on, Hibachan, you're not going to die," Ranma lied.

The smile widened. "Your own answer tells... *cough*... tells me otherwise. Don't worry, Ranma. I've... *hack*... seen the signs just as you have. My time has come, and I'm... *cough*... I'm ready."

The old woman looked downward, at her decaying self. "Ranma... I want no secrets, no bitterness between us. Not now. When... *hack*... my mother died, I was so... *cough*... so angry... I want none of that. You already have enough anger."

Sadness glittered in the elder's eyes. "Ranma... about you and Shampoo... *hack,cough*... I'm sorry..."

"Don't be." Ranma grasped one of her hands, and gave a reassuring squeeze. "You did what you thought was best, for both the village and your great-granddaughter. When the time comes, I may be called to do the same."

Cologne grinned, grateful for her pupil's understanding. "That... that you may. Try not to... *cough*... make the same mistakes I made, okay?"

"Okay." Ranma tried to will her tears back, without much success.

"Hibachan... I have a confession."

"Oh?" An eyebrow arched on the elder's forehead.

Slender hands trembled as the memories of that night returned to her. "That day... when you came back for my answer... I was going to decline, until..."

"Until Ukyou and... *hack*... Nabiki showed up?" The dying woman looked positively amused.

"Yeah..."

"I know. Nabiki... she overheard... and I knew she'd... *cough*... tell Ukyou. I also knew... you'd decline without someone else coming."

"How did you know?"

The old warrior's smile beamed through the pain. "My child... my friend. You have... *cough*... always placed your friends... above yourself. It's called love, Ranma." She tried to reach her other hand over to Ranma's, without success. "Thank you for... *cough*... your love."

Ranma was left at a loss for words. "I... Hibachan..."

"Do you... *cough*... regret your decision?"

"No," the warrior answered, without hesitation. "I don't regret it for an instant. When you made the offer, I was a wreck." The tears started to flow freely. "You... you showed me what it was like to live again. You took a broken man, and... and made an Amazon out of her."

"I'm glad." Cologne winced suddenly, and reached out to her protege. "Ranma... *cough*... see me home..."

Ranma bit her lip, and climbed into the bed alongside her. She cradled the dying body tightly in her arms. "Hai. I... I will."

*****************************************************************************

Above Nerima's streets and alleyways, a time-honored tradition revealed itself one more time, as a pair of martial artists faced each other on its rooftops.

The first of these warriors was a young woman in her mid-twenties, though her petite stature suggested a far younger age. Short brown hair stuck out in odd directions, while a red ribbon sought to rein the unruly mass in. A round, unblemished face grinned madly at her opponent, with laughing brown eyes almost mocking her. Her small, muscular frame was readied in a combat stance, waiting for her adversary to make the first move.

The adversary in question stood ready in a stance modified for wielding bonbori. Though she was taller than the first, she was also much younger, a warrior maid in her mid-teens. Long bluish-purple hair was tied behind her into a ponytail, and she stared back at her teacher with predator's eyes. Unlike the others in the area, she wore Chinese clothing, a red blouse and slacks that flattered her fit, artfully-curved frame. She smiled a small, wry grin, then leapt in for the attack.

Thrust, parry, counter, block... the ballet performed one more time, two performers at the highest of skill levels facing off against each other in combat. Both clearly knew the importance of patience and strategy, neither offering a viable target to the other... until...

"Kiyaah!" Kurumi, the first of the combatants, ducked an unwise thrust from Mouthwash, and kicked the weapon's shaft, snapping the weapon in two. Mouthwash, retreating to safe ground, simply tossed the handle away with typical Amazon arrogance.

"Care to try that again, Kurumi?" Mouthwash purred.

The proprietor of the Tendo Dojo nodded. "Why not?" She instantly rushed into the attack, feinted a Chestnut Fist, then took Mouthwash by surprise with a foot to the stomach. Mouthwash winced in pain, and tried to catch her breath.

"Not bad for an 'outsider', eh, Mouthwash?" Kurumi grinned.

The exiled Amazon nodded in agreement. "Not bad. I'm almost sorry to leave here."

Kurumi's shoulders drooped at the news. "So... you've decided to go back?"

"With Cologne's death, my exile is no longer enforced. Ranma will admit me back."

A wry grin formed on the woman's face. "Considering she's one of the people who sent you here..."

"She didn't have a choice. That sex-changing witch Blossom framed me good. It was either leave or die. At the same time, they knew I had been framed and felt I needed to be taken care of." Mouthwash sighed, wishing for something she couldn't have. "Still... I will miss Kentaro..."

"Well, you can visit, can't you?" Kurumi's eyes danced. "Either that or drag him along by the hair..."

The two girls laughed, with a comfort born of intimate friendship.

****************************************************************************

Ranran stared uneasily at the lonely hut in front of her. She brushed a lock of indigo hair from her face, and wondered for the hundredth time if she was doing the right thing by coming. To be caught here - with her - courted exile, or death. Still, she owed this woman, exile or no exile, a blood debt, and she held far too much honor to dismiss it. With a firmness born of strong conviction, she walked up to the door.

"Who is it?" a feminine voice answered.

"A friend."

The door creaked open, causing Ranran's heart to fall at the sight. The warrior on the other side bore little resemblance to the teenaged superstar she had once fought with. The intensity in her stare, that leader's fire that made her a legend, was now vanished behind a cold gray stare. The long sable hair, her trademark locks, had been shorn into a shoulder-length mass. Scars decorated the warrior's skin, each one capable of telling of some small horror in her life. She smiled grimly, and gracefully waved a hand back. "Won't you come in?"

"Of course." The Nyuchiezu woman stepped inside the little shack, and took a seat.

"So... Cologne is dead or dying," Blossom whispered tonelessly.

"Er... yes. How did you know?"

The smile widened only slightly. "Your anxiety."

Ranran glanced down at the floor for a moment. "Blossom... I know you and Ranma haven't gotten along, but please... don't do anything rash. The village needs warriors like you."

Blossom sobered, and seemed to look sad for a moment. She placed an iron hand on the nervous Amazon's shoulder. "My apologies, old friend, but I prefer to die on my feet than live on my knees."

"Oh no... please, Blossom... I'm sure I could convince Ranma to-"

"No." The whisper was a harsh one, so full of previously unreleased anguish. "I must follow my own path, Ranran, even if... even if I am destroyed by it." She managed a brave smile for her guest, and pulled out a large bottle.

"Come, my wild friend. Let us speak of happier times, and look with some hope to the coming days." Her eyebrow arched slightly. "Tell me. How is your sister doing? I heard about her marriage..."

****************************************************************************

The sole heir to Cologne's wisdom stood alone on a platform near the center of the village, her muscular form proud and dignified as she found comfort in the sunset's beauty. The dying orb descended slowly between peaks, its fire appearing as a keyhole in the door to the sky. It seemed to hang in the position for a moment, its determined brilliance the only fraction of a once-unyielding light, until even this faded away, leaving only the strange muted hues of the afterglow.

The time had come to say goodbye.

Ranma gripped the staff, for eons the symbol of spiritual and healing guidance in the village, and swung it gracefully toward the gong next to her. At its ringing, the people who called themselves Nyuchiezu walked silently toward the call, each one carrying an ornate, well-used candle. A new platform had been erected in the square, a relatively small table of hay and grass draped with an ornate forest-green cloth - the funeral pyre of a Nyuchiezu chieftain.

The heir apparent to the position glanced out to the crowd around the pyre, and swallowed hard. These people, who had for so long looked to Cologne for guidance, turned their eyes to her for the next move. She quietly cleared her throat, and tried to sound dignified through her sadness.

"Nyuchiezu, we are gathered here on this night to pay our final respects to the first warrior of our people, the honored Cologne." Her voice started to break, the loss within cracking her professional demeanor. "While fate did not honor her with... with a warrior's death, Cologne proved herself to us by living a warrior's life. In battle, she acted with a speed and ferocity unparalleled among our ranks; in peace, she planned for the future with a calm, decisive certainty born of infinite wisdom. Now it is time... time to wish her spirit a pleasant journey."

She stood in front of a small log, prepared with a small notch. As was the custom, Ranma placed the point of her staff in the notch, then stood there in strange focus. A moment later, she snatched the staff away, an instant before the now-blazing log could consume the old wood.

"This fire is one that must be shared among us. We women have always looked to each other for support, as we depend on the skills and wisdom of our fellow Nyuchiezu for our very survival. Come, share in Cologne's fire." She stepped back, allowing the others in the community to light their candles. The entire square soon glowed with candle-flame, save the darkest place of all.

Ranma grasped an unlit torch that sat next to the pyre, and stuck its proper end into the flame. The warrior held the torch aloft, like a general leading soldiers into battle, her image almost surreal in the flickering light.

"Honored ancestor, valorous warrior, may you fare well in your spirit journeys. We... will sorely miss your fire and wisdom." With these final words, she tossed the torch onto the pyre.

The oil-treated platform caught fire almost immediately, surrounding the body on top of it in yellow-white flame. The old warrior's face looked a strange, haunting mask with the flames dancing over it, the now-empty shell slowly dissolving to bone from the searing heat. Ranma stood there, transfixed, unable to move her eyes from this angel... devil... witch. The path the departed warrior had followed was never an easy or pleasant one... but usually ended up being the right one.

And now the path was hers to take, with all the rights and responsibilities therein. Cologne had not only shaped the chieftain's role in her decades in the position; it had shaped her, into a creature both beautiful and terrible. She handled situations with a cerebral, delicate touch, but could in an instant reveal the claws beneath the velvet gloves. For better or worse, it had molded her into a leader. Would she suffer the same fate - or could she mold the position into something brighter?

She prayed, with what little innocence remained within her, that she could.

A hand, gentle as a cool breeze, touched her on the shoulder. Ranma turned around to face Mei Ling, one of the village's elders.

"I apologize, Ranma, for disturbing your meditations. However, it is necessary that we speak with you before the time of succession tomorrow."

Ranma nodded, then bowed to the aged warrior. "As you wish." She then turned back to the cremation, allowing her mind to be entranced by the ghostly firelight.

****************************************************************************

"This meeting of the clan matriarchs will come to order."

Ranma looked around, frowning, at the spacious, though spartan, room. Around her were the leaders of each major family of the tribe - true warrior women, with hawklike eyes and a cool demeanor about them that suggested supreme confidence. After a long, uncomfortable silence, an old warrior stood up and spoke in grave tones.

"Healer Ranma, we have some concerns about your possible leadership, and we feel that these should be dealt with before we begin the ceremony. You have served this village with distinction and zeal over the past six years, and proven yourself an honor both to Cologne and our people. However, this does not change the fact that you were born a man, and wish to return to the form as soon as possible."

Ranma nodded sagely. "What is it you ask of me?"

The old woman looked down at her feet for a moment. "We do not ask that you never return to your birth form. Such a request would be unfair of any being. My own sister fell into the changing waters long ago, and her trials showed me the horrors of living in an unnatural form, even one so blessed as an Amazon's."

"What we do ask of you we hope you will not find unacceptable. We ask, first and foremost, that you live and act as a woman in your roles of chieftain and healer, and that you consider yourself such in all matters save marriage and progeny. Moreover, we ask that you not seek a total cure to your condition, and that you not strike against Herb until a favorable situation arises."

The young Nyuchiezu chewed thoughtfully on a thumbnail. "The last one I will agree to wholeheartedly. I do not wish to see the needless loss of life simply because of my reckless haste. In the other matters... the first is perhaps a bit harsh and unnecessary. I will probably spend much of my time in public as a woman anyway, as the village expects it of me. To abandon my Amazon self would not only dishonor myself, but my mentor, my family, and my friends. As for the condition of not seeking a cure, it is superfluous. No cure has ever been found."

A broad-shouldered warrior in the back smiled, and chuckled softly. "No offense, Ranma, but you have shown an affinity for making possible the impossible."

"None taken. However, I am not the only one affected in such a case. There are currently sixty-seven people known to have Jusenkyo curses, of which eight are members of this village. Am I to ignore their pleas for help if asked?"

The others murmured softly to one another. "Of course not. Are we to assume, then, that you will not accept a total cure?"

"Of course. You have my word on it."

"And the rest?"

Ranma frowned. That was precisely what they wanted: her word of honor, her assurance that a man will never lead them. She took in a slow, deep breath, then began, darkness building with each word.

"I swear, on my honor as a Nyuchiezu, that I will not strike at Lord Herb, the Musk Prince, until a favorable situation arises. I also swear that I will never accept a total cure to the Jusenkyo waters. Should I find myself so changed, I will immediately travel to Jusenkyo and immerse myself in the Spring of Drowned Woman, thereby returning me to my proper Amazon form. I will also live as a female in a majority of the day-to-day operations of the village, and will be a female at all official functions and all battles. The Nyuchiezu are to consider me a warrior woman in all respects of the village save marriage and progeny should I regain the ability to change into a man, and I shall act according to that tenet. Should I violate this oath, I ask that my Nyuchiezu sisters kill me for my dishonor." She took out a small knife and cut her arm, allowing the blood to drip onto the floor. "I seal this bond with my own life blood, before the elders, the leaders of our people." The glare she fixed on the crowd would have done her mentor proud. "Is that sufficient?" she growled.

The aged Mei Ling, the one who had invited her, stood up and bowed. "I think that will be sufficient, Ranma. Now, if you will excuse us, we have a tribal meeting to assemble. We will allow you time to calm yourself, as we understand the feelings behind your oath." She gestured to her fellow elders, who slowly filed out of the room.

The selected chieftain collapsed into a chair, as her hands tried to rub the frustration from her features. She had not been surprised by the elders' requests; indeed, she had fully expected their demands. Still... there was no getting around what she had done. The Chisuiton's curse had locked her in physical womanhood; the oath so recently uttered had done the same to her in name. There was so little left of the man she was, only spirit dying with each passing day and crystal memories shattering one by one in life's storms. This oath, in its way more powerful than the cursed bucket, had taken away a part of 'him'... and may have signed 'his' death warrant.

The woman took a moment to steel herself, then placed a hand over her cut. There was little time to waste; the assembly would begin in moments, and she knew the challenges that awaited her. She bandaged the wound, checked her clothing for bloodstains, and walked out into the open air.

The elders stood waiting on the platform, their faces serious and stern. They nodded at Ranma's coming, and made room for the youngest of matriarchs. The gong was rung, summoning the people to the square. Mei, often called the conscience of the elders, raised her hand to silence the crowd.

"Fellow warriors, we have assembled this day to decide Cologne's successor." She threw a sidelong glance at a stoic Ranma. "After much debate, we, the elders of the Nyuchiezu tribe, have decided to accept Cologne's choice of successor and nominate Ranma Saotome for the position of chieftain." A small murmuring spread among the warriors there. "Is there anyone here who challenges her right to the leadership?"

"I challenge him."

The crowd parted, to reveal a grim reaper clothed in black, with ice-gray eyes tinged with anger. Blossom walked through the impromptu row with catlike steps toward the platform. "I declare Ranma unfit for the position due to his birth gender."

"Whether either of us likes it or not, Blossom, we are both women in the eyes of our peers. I accept your challenge." The redhead stepped off of the platform, while the crowd made room for the coming battle. Mei stepped between the two warriors.

"I trust the two of you know the rules. This fight continues until one person yields, is unconscious, or dead." The old eyes looked sad for a moment. "Begin."

Blossom charged in with a shockingly fast punch-kick combination that would send the best fighters reeling. Ranma blocked the first, dodged the second, then moved back to relative safety.

"Not bad, Blossom. Not bad at all." She swept the pigtail from her shoulder.

"It's not wise to mock me, Ranma." The once-exiled warrior advanced for another attack, only to meet empty air.

"But it's so easy to do..." Ranma grinned.

"I warned you..." Blossom leapt at the warrior and launched a barrage of punches, then...

"Shishi Houkoudan!"

The smaller version of the depression blast flared out from Blossom's hands, engulfing the champion in white-hot fire. Thinking her battle won, the dark warrior allowed herself the luxury of a smile.

A haymaker to her jaw let her know it was a luxury she could ill-afford. Ranma passed through the flames unharmed, and chose style over effect in her response. The punch sent the brunette flying to the edges of the crowd.

"A small lesson for you, Blossom: Never throw a Shishi Houkoudan against me. I've lived through ki-blasts that make that look like a firecracker. Not only that, but you're not doing it quite right." Her face darkened. "A Shishi Houkoudan can be refined, improved... like this!" A similar blast to the one before, though far more powerful than Blossom's, knocked the poor woman to her knees. Blood oozed from her mouth as she stood up, knees shaking.

Ranma smelled victory in the air. "Hey, Blossom. Wanna see a fun trick?"

The cold warrior was silent.

"Kashuu Tenshin Amaguriken!" Ranma charged in, hands blurring as the punches came flying.

Blossom coughed, a failed attempt at a laugh. "That old trick? Heh. I know... know... WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO ME?!?" The warrior stood unmoving, save the horror painted on her face.

Ranma shrugged. "Oh, that? Just your typical Amaguriken... with a nice Shiatsu point thrown in." She touched the warrior's sleep spot before anything else could happen, causing the giantess to collapse to the ground.

"Mei Ling? Care to do the honors?"

The matriarch examined Blossom's still form critically, then stood back up. "By knockout, the winner of the challenge is Ranma." She bowed to the fiery redhead. "Congratulations... Chieftain."

Ranma, quite naturally, returned the pleasantries. "Thank you, Matriarch." She pulled out a small vial, marked '110', from her pocket. "Mei Ling? Could you please bring me some hot water? I have some hair styling to do..."

*****************************************************************************

The celebration that followed at Ucchan's was a lively one, if a tad reserved. Sake and other potent potables flowed freely from their various containers, sending those blessed to share in the festivities into inebriated bliss. While most of the Amazons had their reservations about placing a former man in the highest role, they joined in the celebration, as there were few doubts concerning her abilities or loyalties. Unfortunately, Ranma's ascension was coupled with sadness, and the emptiness of Cologne's and Blossom's absence was felt among the crowd.

Night had long since fallen by the time the guest of honor stood up to raise her glass. Her beautiful soprano voice, softened by the weight of life, shook from alcohol's effects. "My friends, I must thank you for an excellent celebration. It has been a long time since I have enjoyed myself like this... but, regrettably, duty calls, and I have much to look over tonight."

"Oh, come on, Ranchan..." Ukyou slurred, "can't you relax at least once?"

Ranma fixed a smiling glare on her childhood friend. "No. Cologne's work is my work now, and I have a century of catching up to do." Her smile broadened. "I'll see you tomorrow, Ucchan."

A round of hearty goodbyes echoed through the place as Ranma left, bringing a small comfort to the veteran warrior. A small paranoid part of her mind feared that the opposition to her leadership would be considerable; to find it only a minor problem came as a relief to her. She walked to the empty house, hers alone now, though once it held a proud family of warriors. She went to the basement, to a room shrouded in mystery - the library.

A number of legends exist of the treasure of the Nyuchiezu, a storehouse of wealth rumored to be able to buy nations. While some material wealth does exist in the village, this pales next to the true treasure beneath the surface. Under the floors of the house lay a storehouse of knowledge to rival Alexandria, from cancer cures and ancient texts to annual weather reports and martial arts techniques. Such a treasure was more valuable than any gold or gemstone - and far more useful. Ranma gently opened the door and strolled inside, each footstep echoing like a gunshot through the great hall.

The room itself was a large one, roughly the size of the entire house above, and covered in an inky darkness pierced by the lamplight. The air around was musty, with a still feeling of reverence accorded ancient cathedrals or temples. Shelving covered the walls of the library, scrolls from cultures long gone intermingled with modern masterpieces. In the middle of this hall were a few chairs - and a large wooden crate bearing Ranma's name.

After standing for a few minutes in awe at the treasure around her, she noticed the present left her. She hefted the box and walked up to the main living area, where she could examine its contents in greater comfort.

Inside were several carefully-wrapped packages, as well as a letter... a final letter from Cologne. Tears fell from the Amazon's eyes as she read the farewell.

Dear Ranma,

If you are reading letter as I wish, then I have died and you have succeeded me to the position of leadership. There is so much I want to say to you, so many wonders to show to you; unfortunately, my time grows short, and these few words must serve in my absence.

First of all, do not mourn me gone. While the curtain of the beyond has largely concealed what I journey to, I have learned enough to know there is a resting place to where souls go, and we both have a number of friends waiting on the other side. Also, I have lived a full 117 years of life, and have no major regrets to take with me.

I do not know if you hold any regrets concerning your coming here; if you do, I pray you abandon them quickly. Whether this be a home to you yet or not, it is necessary that you make it so. You have friends here, to whom you can turn to in times of need. Trust their counsel, for they can see things blind to us.

The leadership position you now hold is not an enviable one, my friend. There are many doubts that the great tribe of women we lead will survive the next century; it is your task to see that it does. You must break down the walls, Ranma.

The first walls you must conquer are the ones you will reflexively build around yourself. The wisdom and responsibility charged to us often forces us to shut a part of ourselves off from the village. By the end, I had erected so many barriers around myself that only you could see the human being behind the mask of leadership. Do not let this fate become yours as well.

The other walls you must conquer make the ones mentioned above seem insignificant by comparison. This Nyuchiezu tribe will not survive as it is now. We have exiled ourselves off from the world of men for too long, and our lack of change is threatening our future. Every year, more and more of our talented youth leave their homes behind to pursue happiness outside of the village. We must somehow adapt, allowing ourselves to blend and work in the world outside without abandoning the core philosophies that made us great. I believe the world is not only ready for our wisdom, it is in need of it, as women enter the workplaces normally dominated by men. We can teach them - teach them how to be proud of who they are, and to be strong in the face of overwhelming pressures. I could not do this, as I am immersed in the old ways. You, on the other hand, are a gifted mix of so much - womanhood and manhood, Nyuchiezu matriarchy and Japanese chauvinism, ancient wisdom and modern savvy. This is why I urged Shampoo to pursue you, and why I selected you for this position after the tragedy. Your experiences are a godsend, and will guide us into Nyuchiezu's future.

Mei told me of their requirements of you concerning the leadership. Right now their demands must still have you bristling; let the anger go. They are trying to act in the best interests of the tribe, as are you. I imagine in the end you will live as a woman by day for the tribe, and as a man at night for Miss Kuonji.

There is no use avoiding or fighting that situation, by the way. She loves you with an almost inhuman devotion, and would follow you to the ends of the earth. Also, despite your continued efforts to avoid your feelings, it is obvious that you care a great deal for her. I know you are hesitant to even think of such matters given your current situation, but it is past time you talked about it with her. Even if you decide not to start a relationship just yet, make sure you stay by her side.

My pupil, the lessons I have taught you are only the beginning of the journey. The world has much left to teach you. Some lessons will be of such beauty and life as to make you feel reborn, while other, darker lessons wait to freeze your soul to ice. Whatever you do, Ranma, go forward, always forward, and do not stop. Farewell, old friend, and prove my trust was not misplaced in you.

With love,

Cologne.

Drying her tears, Ranma brought out the other contents of the box.

The first package was a blouse, a tunic of local cut. A white Celtic-style cross was stitched on the field of forest-green, while red trim bordered the fine silk. These were the colors of Cologne's family since time immemorial, and were now hers to wear with honor.

The other two items were books - thick leatherbound journals capable of recording years of notes and thoughts. The first was empty, full of blank pages ready for a chieftain's wit and wisdom. Ranma readied her ink for the journal, her brush poised above the virgin paper... but could not write anything, save her name. Somehow, she felt that her stories weren't ready - not yet, anyway.

The second book, on the other hand, was filled with journal entries - journals detailing the last seven years of a chieftain's life. Ranma brewed herself a pot of tea, and settled down to read.

September 18, 1992 - Shampoo returned home yesterday in disgrace. Unfortunately, she did not know any better, and let herself be tricked. From what my great-granddaughter described to me, my suspicions of this foreigner Ranma have proven correct: the girl who defeated her is in fact a man, molded through Jusenkyo's touch into a female...

...September 30, 1998 - Disturbing events are occurring, and I fear the conflict between Ranma and Blossom will soon come to a head. The young champion Mouthwash was caught two days ago with information about Ranma's existence, as well as other classified information for delivery to the Musk. All of the evidence suggests the poor girl was framed; however, I cannot let Blossom know-

*knock, knock*

"Good morning, Ranchan!"

"Hey, Ranma. You up?"

The new leader of the Nyuchiezu looked up from her reading. Surprise registered on her weary features at the rising sun in the window, then at the equally weary warriors entering her abode. She managed a weak smile for her friends.

"Er... good morning. I trust the party went on well after I left?"

Nabiki flopped on the couch, her face grimacing from the party's aftereffects. "Oooh...don't remind me. I didn't know that much sake existed."

Ukyou nodded gently in agreement. "Ranchan... I hope you don't mind, but could we start the morning practices tomorrow? I don't think either of us are in the mood for it."

Ranma reached a hand up to rub the weariness from her eyes. "Sounds good to me - for today, anyway. I was up all night with Cologne's notes." She looked to the now-cold kettle on the table, then to the kitchen. "So. Anyone in the mood for tea?"

****************************************************************************

Ukyou stood at her station in life, though she did it for a far more important reason than money this night. She worked her spatulas over the okonomiyaki, a gentle smile adorning her features. After a moment, she scooped the food up, twirled each one on her spatula, and sent them flying... right onto their desired plates. She took off her trademark bandolier, and walked over to join her friends... her family.

Her family, those she would gladly give her life and more for, sat at the table waiting for her (save Genma; the old man was already chowing down). Curiosity was the prevailing mood among the crowd, though amusement and agitation was also mixed in among the group. With a gentle grace, Ukyou took her proper seat at the table.

"So, Ukyou, why have you called us here? I've got a store to run." Nabiki was a tad impatient, letting her tapping fingertips show her mild anxiety.

The chef sighed. "That, my dear Nabiki, is one of the reasons why I have called you all here."

Only perplexed looks came in reply. Ukyou took a bite from her plate, then continued.

"Before Cologne... passed on, she sent a letter to me." Ranma began to choke on her drink, prompting a smile from the chef. "Anyway, among other things... she said that we were drifting too far apart, and that we as a family need to stick together."

Nodoka smiled, approving of the decision. "I'll admit I'm for it. My daughter so rarely visits ever since she moved out..." She winked to Ranma, to show she wasn't completely serious.

"So, Ucchan..." Ranma said, pausing to take in a bite, "what do you want to talk about?"

A wicked glint appeared in Ukyou's eyes. "I dunno... Cologne's death, your becoming chieftain, your promise to stay a woman forever..."

"WHAT?!?" The rest of the group looked stunned at the news. Ranma stammered, desperately trying to explain the circumstances of her succession.

"It's... it's not like that! It's in name only!"

Ukyou sat back, smug at her success. "I know, Ranchan, I know. However, did it ever occur to you that we might like to hear something like that from you - rather than the gossip lines?"

The dark-haired beauty reached out her hands, to grab Ranma's. "Ranchan, I know that your new position carries with it some secrets that you feel you can't share. But, please... if it affects someone we care for very much... tell us. We're your family. We can help."

The redhead sighed. "I'll try. I dunno if I'll be able to, though..."

"That's all we ask." Ukyou focused a stern gaze on her ex-fiance. "Now. Is there anything -"

*knock, knock*

"We'll continue this discussion later," Ukyou whispered quickly, then turned her head to the door. "Come in..."

A weary traveler walked into the little shop. Though sweat and grime decorated the teenager's clothing and face, she walked with a skip to her step and a happy glint in her eye. She set down her backpack, and bowed before the seated chieftain.

"Mistress, I realize that I have done wrong, that I have dishonored myself and the Nyuchiezu with my actions. However, much time has passed, and I beseech you to lift the veil of dishonor from me, and readmit me into the tribe."

"The veil is lifted, Mouthwash," Ranma spoke, laughter threatening to come. "And stop calling me 'Mistress'. It makes me sound like I'm doing something immoral."

"As you wish, Milady."

Ranma groaned. Ukyou smiled, and went back to the grill.

"Sit down and take a load off, Mouthwash. I'll make you some supper."

The teenager's face lit up. "Really? Thanks! You know, I tried the okonomiyaki in Tokyo... somehow it didn't taste quite as good."

The family smiled. "Well, Ucchan's one of the best. Finding someone of her caliber isn't easy."

The light in Mouthwash's eyes began to dim. "Milady... where are Blossom's ashes?"

"Ashes?"

"You did kill her, didn't you?" Mouthwash spoke matter-of-factly, then with more insistence. "Didn't you?"

The chieftain took a sip of her tea. "As a matter of fact, Mouthwash, I didn't. I used shampoo to erase her memory."

"The Formula 110, or the stuff you were experimenting on?"

"The 110. I haven't perfected the other stuff yet."

Fear washed over Mouthwash, dark thoughts flying in her head. "Milady... it would have been better to not take that chance. If she gets a hold of a memory restorer... we're all in danger."

"Assuming she does... I don't think we have much to fear from her. I've already defeated her easily."

"Chieftain... you don't know her like I do. The village was her life. By taking that from her forever, you have already killed her. And, if I'm right... she's going to take as many of her enemies with her."

The young warrior pushed her chair from the table, her appetite gone. "Ranma... you are the chieftain now, sworn to maintain the honor and well-being of our people. By letting her live... you may have endangered us all."

****************************************************************************

Masculine screams echoed like a chorus through the village the following morning, calling the young chieftain from her slumber. She readied herself for the obvious crisis, and ran outside with the urgency of a trauma doctor. The sight that awaited her was a horrible, surreal picture, a staggering image difficult for even the Jusenkyo-cursed woman to believe.

The crowd gathering at her doorstep was composed primarily of men, strong, but fearful almost to the point of panic. Most of these men were strangers, their faces unknown to the village... but their eyes and ill-fitting clothing told the story. The leader recognized Jusenkyo's touch instantly, and asked for silence among the mob.

"Okay, everyone, enough! Now, what happened? Who did this to you?"

A tall, handsome man stepped through the crowd, dark eyes like ice in the predawn light. Ranma blinked in surprise; apparently Nabiki was among those affected. The new man grabbed Ranma's shoulders, and pinned her to the wall.

"Who else?"

Ranma gulped. Anger was a common emotion from Nabiki; it was the fuel which burned in her and drove her onward. But now... her old friend was reaching a cold fury of frightening proportions. She steeled herself for the onslaught of complaints, when another, high-pitched voice broke through.

"It's not permanent! It's not..." The young lady, obviously shaken by recent events, told her tale. "I... I woke up changed, just as you all are. I guessed Jusenkyo, and tested it. I changed back with hot water, but cold water doesn't change me." She splashed cold water on one of the 'men', to demonstrate.

Ranma wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead, relief spreading through her at the news. While the crowd dispersed to change and go back to sleep, Nabiki held her grip, the anger inside giving way to fear.

"Ranma...there's something else. I... I passed Ucchan's..."

The warrior's heart froze. "What? Where is she?" she asked, panic rising with each syllable.

"The place is a wreck, Ran-"

Nabiki never finished her sentence. Ranma made a beeline for the little restaurant, her cries echoing through the village.

The cafe, the product of years of hard work, had been left in shambles. Splinters were all that remained of most of the furniture, while spatulas and sword strokes littered the walls and floor. The grill, the canvas where the artist had worked her magic, was bent and torn beyond repair. A single letter lay on one of the few intact tables, which Ranma quickly seized and opened.

My dearest Ranma,

I did not appreciate your decision to wipe away my memories. While most of them are rather unpleasant, they are still mine to cherish, and I prefer to keep them. I'm not bitter, though, and have decided to let bygones be bygones. In fact, I've decided to help you with your love life, as you seem so lonely in your new position. If you're willing, I'll introduce you to this great-looking guy, with long brown hair, the most beautiful brown eyes, and a cooking style like none other. You should taste this guy's okonomiyaki... it's to die for.

If you have any objections to this, I will be at Jusenkyo at noon today.

With love,

Blossom.

P.S. Isn't instant Nannichuan fun?

"BLOSSOM..." Ranma roared like a demon freed, and slammed her fist into the table. She balled a shaking fist around her pigtail, eyes shut trying to see, yet not to see. A slightly metallic taste flooded her mouth - blood from a bitten lip.

"Ranma."

The shattered woman turned to the deep voice, and dried what few tears escaped. Nabiki, still masculine, walked over to her, his eyes narrow slits. "Ranma... this has to end. Blossom isn't just a threat to you now; her continued existence puts the Nyuchiezu in jeopardy."

Ranma nodded painfully. "Get... get Pop. I'm going to need a second for this."

****************************************************************************

The morning sun had arrived some time ago, sending a piercing light into the spartan room. A lone figure, clothed only in various undergarments, sat meditating in its center, the only sound coming from her lithe form the gentle inhale and exhale of life's breath. She held in her slender hands a katana, the honor blade of her birth clan.

Honor. Death. Somehow, the words seemed almost contradictory together. Every killing she had been unfortunate to play some role in was distinctly lacking in the high quality, from Herb's cowardice at Mount Hoorai to Blossom's revenge on Happousai at Jusenkyo. How was this killing any different?

Her mind, the analytical, calculating strategist within her, screamed the reasons. The death of her friends had not been provoked; the Musk prince had no reason to fear for his life. Neither was Happousai's murder; the newly-cursed master had been at the wrong place at the wrong time in the wrong body. Blossom, though, posed a clear threat to human lives and livelihoods, and would kill (or worse) without hesitation. Moreover, everything within the chieftain's power short of death had been tried. She had even gone so far as to experiment (unsuccessfully) on mind-altering shampoos to erase Blossom's memory of the place. Killing was the only option left. As she was now chieftain, an honor which carried the responsibility of life and death, it was her duty to see it done.

That didn't mean she had to like it, though...

Ranma's eyes snapped open. She walked over to the closet, and flipped through the colorful silks and satins. She paused for a moment at the green blouse Cologne had given her, then continued until she found the outfit she was looking for.

The previously-unworn shirt and pants were identical in cut to outfits she had worn in Nerima, with the wood ties down the middle. What was different about this outfit, though, was the color, one she preferred to avoid.

Black. The color of the night... of darkness.

She took the outfit from the closet and dressed, each movement weighed as though it decided the fate of nations. Next came the honor blade along her back, ready at a moment's notice.

The warrior looked at the clock: two hours to noon. Time to go.

****************************************************************************

In some respects, Jusenkyo could be considered Quinghai Province's elysium, a place untouched and untouchable to warfare. Numerous factions had traveled through the region over the millennia, carving rivers of blood in their petty conquests - and avoided the pools of sorrow with an almost paranoid fervor. A few of these groups, such as the honorable Nyuchiezu or valorous Musk, settled down in the area and called the place home, though even these peoples treated the pools with the upmost care. After all, no warlord or soldier wished to be made an ass of - either figuratively or literally.

This was precisely why Blossom had chosen this spot above all others. The place had already worked its magic on her... him, and could do no more lasting damage to either of them. Anyone foolish enough to accompany the chieftain, though, risked body and soul by coming. A small part of her soul almost hoped someone would; the changed people would show Ranma for the failure she was.

The dishonored giant looked back at the prize he had collected. Ukyou struggled against the bonds that held her to the pole, while a rope extended from the pole to his hand. All it would take is one good tug...

"Blossom."

He turned around to the calling... and smiled. The fool had come, as expected, but had brought others with her... her father, the coward Genma, and the money-hungry Nabiki. Good. The more witnesses, the better. Blossom coughed once, then bowed congenially to the chieftain.

"Greetings, Ranma. Or do you prefer 'Mistress' now? 'Your Worship', perhaps?"

"Can it, Blossom." Ranma's teeth were clenched in anger.

"You know, a Nyuchiezu chieftain should have a more civil tongue." He held up the rope to punctuate his point.

Ranma walked alone into the midst of the springs, hands open in non-violence. "Why are you doing this, Blossom?"

The giant glowered at his greatest rival. "You took away everything I held dear... everything I was!"

"Then why go after them, if I'm your target?" She gestured to Ukyou on the pole. "Do you really want to give her the change? We both know what it's like... the flash of nothingness... the realization... do you really want to give that to another human being?"

"Yes." Blossom replied icily. "Hurting them hurts you. Especially when she's involved." He readied himself into a fighting stance. "Care to stop me?"

Ranma nodded sadly, unable to fight fate. "As you wish."

Blossom opened by pulling a handful of daggers from his belt. "Care to see a fun trick?" he said, pantomiming Ranma's words from before. The daggers left his strong hands at blinding speed, a phalanx headed straight for Ranma's heart.

Ranma's eyes widened - but only for a moment. She started to move, her lightning hands catching the blades, then launching them to their point of origin.

Blossom leapt sideways to dodge the blades, then managed a small smile. "Not bad, Ranma... not bad at all."

Ranma looked back at the warrior. "Musk Dynasty?" she asked, a touch of fear in her voice.

"Uh-huh." The giant looked smug at the fact. "Trained there for a year or so. You know... you're actually pretty lucky. Herb doesn't remember you."

Ranma looked at the situation... and frowned. Blossom was trying to cloud her judgement, to get her priorities jumbled up by angering her. If she played it the wrong way, if she attacked Blossom outright... Ukyou could end up a casualty. That left only one way to play it.

"You know, if I were you, I'd feel pretty insulted." Blossom droned, seeking to distract. "Think about it: The primary focus of your frustrations and the object of your revenge can't even be bothered to remember your name."

"Do the world a favor, Blossom... shut up." The warrior launched herself at Blossom, ready to perform the Amaguriken-Shiatsu maneuver that she'd used earlier. Wary of her tricks, Blossom retreated rather than attempt a block, moving out of the line between Ranma and Ukyou.

That's when Ranma bolted, her senses on overdrive, ready for the coming reprisals. The first and expected one was the pulling of the rope. Fear rose in Ukyou's eyes as she felt the sickening weightlessness of freefall... Ranma continued running, her race taking on new urgency. The chieftain leapt over the spring in a near-horizontal bound, snagged Ukyou, and threw her to the safe zone, away from the cursed pools. She sensed rather than saw the daggers coming, one, two, three...

Four. A choked scream echoed through the grounds as a dagger caught Ranma in the shoulder, sending her tumbling like a rag doll into a spring.

Blossom stood there, numb, the screams of the others dimly heard in his mind. He'd done it... beaten the unbeatable... they... they had to accept him... her... whoever as chieftain now...

A fist rapidly approaching his face snapped the proto-leader out of his reverie. He ducked, and stood to face Genma Saotome.

The aging martial artist made no effort to conceal his tears - or the fury behind them. "You have killed my only child, one most precious to me. By all I hold holy..." he launched a fierce barrage, then felt overwhelming pain from Blossom's counter. The giant picked Genma up by the scruff of the neck.

"'One most precious'? Hah!" Blossom mocked. "How many tortures have you put her through in her life? What other hells have you had her endure besides this one?"

"I dunno. He was usually there when I needed him!"

Blossom turned around. The focus of his anger stood there: dripping wet, bleeding... and very much alive. He dropped the old man, and readied himself for the fight.

Ranma blinked, and focused her eyes on the dishonored one. She could feel her mind slowing, the strange lightheadedness that comes with blood loss, and knew that time was running out.

In other words, if she wanted to get out alive, she had to act - now. She carefully unsheathed the katana, and held it in her left (and only useful) hand.

"I'm sorry, Blossom."

The warrior charged without mercy, thrusting quickly and repeatedly with her blade, not allowing Blossom the slightest moment of respite for counter. Blossom dodged the first few thrusts, but, ill-trained for the specific situation, found himself outmatched. The final blow was a merciful one, a thrust to the heart, stopping the young man/woman's life before he could feel any more pain. Surprisingly, the look on Blossom's face at the end was not of pain, or anger... but a strange peace.

Ranma slumped over the still form of her foe, cradled his head in her lap, and began to cry softly... she hadn't wanted this, avoided it like the plague... but... but...

She felt a pressure on her good shoulder, a gentle nudging downward. Unable to resist, she lay down on the ground.

"Take it easy, Ranchan. You'll be all right. We'll get you help. Just lie there and stay calm." Ukyou's voice seemed so distant to her ears, so far away...

"Sh-shouldn't... be here, Ucchan," the chieftain slurred. "Too... dangerous."

"Nonsense. Where you go, I follow - no matter what."

Ranma looked up at her companion and friend. So many emotions...so much love in her eyes...

"I wish... wish I could l... lo-"

"I know, Ranchan. I know." Ukyou placed a finger over Ranma's lips to silence them. The last thing Ranma saw before losing consciousness was a tear fall down her cheek...

*****************************************************************************

A lone visitor sat alone at the cursed place of Jusenkyo, and smiled at the picturesque scene in front of her. The sun shone high in the sky, basking the area in its warm glow, while a gentle breeze brushed against her, disturbing her bangs and balancing the sun's warmth with its refreshing cool. The calls of animals could be heard from the forests nearby, a reminder that this place, so rare on the earth, still remained unconquered by civilization, and would probably hold out forever. The warrior forced her attentions from the surroundings, and frowned at the book next to her.

When she had first received this most precious of Cologne's gifts, she had not known what to say. So much had happened to her, such a strange mix of magic, love, and tragedy, that she at first perceived the task of recording it as near-impossible. Still, what she said... what she thought... was important, not only for herself, but for the village... and the future.

A new millennium was approaching, an era ripe with potential - and pitfalls. The village was going to need a new direction if it was to survive, and the job of navigator had been given to her. The changes to come would be neither easy nor pleasant...but they would be necessary. Concessions would have to be made, while somehow keeping the tribe's fire and soul intact, untarnished.

That was what the book was for. Ignorance was bliss only if death was blissful, while wisdom could be the strength to keep the Nyuchiezu together as a people. She clumsily picked up her brush and began to write, an artist's care taken with each stroke.

It is with great sorrow that I report the passing of Cologne, for so long the leader of our people, after a lengthy illness. Her wisdom and guidance will be sorely missed. I only pray I may live up to her example...

****************************************************************************

2009 notes:

I think I'll keep the notes as is. One note, though: I did eventually write one more Sunrise story, "Lessons". Other than that, I pretty much said all that needs to be said.

1997 notes:

This is the last of the Sunrise Chronicles, and I currently have no plans to write any post-Sunrise stories, so this is in some ways a goodbye. While I do have ideas for such works, I feel that the works I have thought up would diminish from the current stories, rather than augment. Some stories are worth telling, while others aren't. It is time to move on, to focus on other characters...other lives. I may return, though...if I feel it right.

When I first started writing the original story back in December 1995, I never imagined quite so much would come of this, or that I would put so much of myself into this. To all those beginning writers out there: I pray that you one day have a writing project that touches you as deeply as this one has touched me. Over the past year I have come to know these characters and feel what they feel, and they have come to teach me much about myself. Ranma's honor is very much my own, as is Nabiki's anger, Ukyou's faith...and Blossom's bitterness.

Yes, maybe I do need to get a life. ^_^

Thanks to Rumiko Takahashi, for the obvious. Thank you to everyone for taking the time to read and enjoy this work. The other thank-yous I'm going to post separately, as they are going to be rather long, and I need to think about them.

Original version released January 13, 1997

Released to fanfiction dot net February 25, 2009