The characters contained within this story are owned by Takahashi 
Rumiko or whomever wrote Sailor Moon. No infringement of copyright is 
intended. This work to be distributed for free, unchanged, crediting 
the current author.

This is a crossover between Ranma 1/2 and Sailor Moon. To make the two 
stories fit together the way I wanted, I needed to shuffle the dates at 
which a few things occur within the main timeline of Sailor Moon. I bow 
my head in shame: please forgive. We also have guest appearances by 
Slayers and 3x3 Eyes.

Die hard fans of Ranma may also notice a very subtle change to it's 
story timeline...

This story is dedicated to the letters A, and K and the number 8.

Visit my website at
http://www.fl.net.au/~fire

                          _________________
                         /                 \
                         | Destiny's Child |
                         \_________________/




-----------------------------------
Another One Bites The Dust
-----------------------------------

The dreams were getting more annoying. In four hundred years of life, 
Ranma had seen enough nightmares to recognise the signs of tampering 
and intrusion. 

When he had trained in India, he had the pleasure of training under a 
dream walker. A dream walker was someone who could cast their spirit 
into another person's dreams, and talk to them or influence the dream. 
What he was seeing did not bear those sorts of signs.

His work in Tibet, where the Monks taught him magic and demonology 
ensured a solid knowledge of those subjects too. When he had first 
started having these sorts of dreams - around the same time Ryoga 
showed up - he leapt to the obvious conclusion that it was his demonic 
friend that was to blame.

Ranma had lain his traps well. He had meticulously constructed a layer 
of demon traps and dream wards. It took him two days to build them, and 
most of an evening to place them, and when he was finished, he was sure 
that no demon should be able to pass such defences without at least 
raising an alarm.

While a greater demon, or a force of demons would definitely be able to 
pound their way through, they would leave definite signs, and he would 
be aware and able to counter attack. There was simply no way for Ryoga 
to be able to attack him with his dreams the way they stood.

That night, secure and snug in her bed, little Tomoe Hotaru had dreamed 
again, waking bathed in sweat, and thinking of a Queen of radiant 
beauty and kindness. All the wards were in place, and no sign of 
demons.

If 100 years as a Monk had taught him nothing else, it was patience 
(actually, this was one thing that it failed to teach him, but he was 
better than when he was young). Starting from scratch, he rebuilt all 
his wards, and again placed them. He included every charm he could 
think of, and even placed a few of the wards that Rei had created while 
they were training together. 

Before he went to bed this evening, he erected the most powerful 
magical barrier that he could. It would take a mighty spell indeed to 
break through, and considering it had taken him two hours to cast, he 
should have some notice when things attacked. About the only thing 
which could break through without a fight would be the Kami, and even 
some of them would think twice.

That night, Ranma dreamed.

It was a simple metal shaft. Nearly eight foot long, and a plain, dull 
grey in colour. His wife looked down on his work and smiled, and he 
smiled back. When Queen Serenity had healed him, she did not really 
change who he was, she just helped to quieten the voices that he heard. 
She let the calm and love of his wife enter his soul even deeper, and 
let his love enter his wife.

No-one had really expected the results of this however, aside from his 
wife. Before the healing, she had always said he was talented, and in 
touch with the magic of the universe. Now everyone would be able to see 
it. 

His ability did not lay in casting the great magic which ran the 
Kingdom. His lay in the ability to feel the subtle changes and effects 
of the magic around him. The very day that he had been healed, he had 
walked the halls of their castle, marvelling at how the magic infused 
everything. Showing a flower to his lovely wife, he looked in her 
purple eyes and told her of it's beauty. When he described the way the 
magic touched the flower, melded with it, and was born anew by the life 
of the flower, she could only sigh in awe.

His was a great talent, and if he had the patience for it, he could 
have been a great scholar, imparting great wisdom to the world. 
However, he was a fighter, a man who was of short temper and quick, 
strong feelings. He was more apt to burn a book than read it, and the 
idea of helping those people who had hurt and tormented him for most of 
his life held little appeal.

Only two people held his loyalty. His wife, and his Queen. As the time 
had past since his healing, he had travelled the Kingdom, watching as 
it's magical defenders had wielded their powers to defend and protect. 
When his Queen had called, he had gone, and he had served, as only he 
could.

Now he had found a way that he could do something for his wife. Ever 
since he had met her, he had felt like a whole man, and had found peace 
and love. All he had been able to give her had been a return of that 
peace and love. It was all she ever asked, but now he could give her 
more.

Looking down at the plain iron shaft, he smiled up at his wife. "With 
this, I shall craft you a magical item like no other in the system."

His wife settled back and picked up her book. Every day for a month he 
had come down to their cellar to stare at the metal rod. Plain iron, 
that was all it was, nothing more, nothing less. She loved and trusted 
her husband, but she also worried about him. One day, while he was out, 
she called in a powerful mage that worked in her castle. Plain iron, 
that was all it was, nothing more.

After this had been going on for three weeks, she had finally turned to 
the one person she loved and could trust in the same way she trusted 
her husband. Stepping into the entry room, she bowed to Queen Serenity. 

"Arise, please, there is no need for such formality between friends."

"Your Majesty. I... I'm worried about my husband. I know you cast a 
healing on him, but... But recently he had been acting strangely. 
Could, could I ask you to visit us some time, please. If you could see 
him... He had become so serious, so obsessed."

The Queen smiled and stepped down of her throne. Walking up to the 
smaller woman, she took her by the hand and strolled around the 
boundary of the vacant reception hall. "Let me guess. He has become 
obsessed with a piece of metal. Plain iron if I am not mistaken."

She gasped at her Queen. To know such things, she must be one step 
closer to divinity than anyone ever suspected. The Queen laughed at her 
subject's amazement. "No, it wasn't a vision, I don't have any special 
new powers. He's been to see me, you know."

"He has?"

"He has. Four times in the last month. The first time, he just walked 
in here, ignoring all of the guards and stood here all day. All he did 
was watch me and stared at the Moon Sceptre. I can tell you that the 
King was just a little bit nervous. 
"He was back two days later. Just walked straight in again and wandered 
up to the throne. Sailor Jupiter was giving a report at the time. I'm 
sure you can understand how happy she was.
"When Jupiter was finished, the two of us adjourned to a private room, 
and he showed me the most marvellous painting I have ever seen. There 
was every colour imaginable, and it was beautiful beyond description. 
Somehow, he had painted the Moon Sceptre, but he had painted the 
_magic_ of the Sceptre, not it's outwards appearance.
"'Is it right?' He asked me. When I finally realised what it was he was 
showing me, I studied the Sceptre. All I could see was the strongest 
currents in the painting, the greatest lines of power. He had drawn 
them all, detail so minute it must have taken the finest of brushes to 
paint."

Queen Serenity sighed and though of that day. The painting still 
existed. It was in her private office, where no-one visited. Perhaps 
some day the painting would allow them to duplicate the powers in the 
Moon Sceptre if they needed to.

"He only came twice more, and then he came to watch me cast, not to ask 
any more questions. I think he realised that I could not see the magic 
in the detail that he could. He has no real magic of his own, but his 
sight! It is truly incredible.
"The first time he came was to watch me cast a healing. The second time 
was to watch me when I destroyed an asteroid which was approaching. 
Both times he was here before I cast the spells, despite the fact that 
I had not told anyone of my intentions. He said he could see the magic 
gathering, as though for a great purpose.
"It was that second time that I enquired of his interest. He said that 
he was making you a staff. A special staff that would stand you true in 
the test of time, and be with you always.
"Plain iron he said. The bane of all magic I told him. He only smiled 
at me and touched his nose. I don't know what he has planned, but I 
look forward to seeing the results. 

Her questions answered, and her fears laid to rest, she let the Queen 
lead her to the exit. With one hand on the door, Queen Serenity paused 
and looked at her again. 

"I asked my advisors about it, not mentioning any names. They said that 
no magical staff could possibly be constructed from iron. Iron is the 
antithesis of magic, it is the pure elemental earth, the metal which 
breaks and dispels. 
"They also told me that to create a magical item requires great magic 
yourself. The Moon Sceptre was created long, long ago at the founding 
of the Moon Kingdom. Legend states that twelve great mages forged it 
with their life, giving all their power so that it would exist to serve 
forever more.
"I look forward to seeing what he makes. I should be something... 
special."

She looked up with a sudden start. A loud bang of metal on metal 
brought her back from her memories. After a month of sitting and 
staring at the rod of iron, he had done something. The sound was the 
first strike of his hammer as he beat the metal. As she saw him heat 
the iron and strike again, she realised how long it could take.

It did take a long time, almost two years to complete, but it was a 
labour of love. As time wore on, she could begin to see the shape 
coming out of what was being produced. Over time he would roll it and 
fold it, layer upon layer upon layer. At times, he would spend weeks 
carving intricate channels in the heat softened metal, only to fold the 
iron again, and bury them within.

Every time she would broach the subject he would only smile and say he 
was creating her a gift of his love. It was to be a reminder of her 
love for him, and his love for her. When it was complete, all would see 
the power of their love.

It was two days since she had been down to the cellar. The last time 
she was there, he had cheerfully folded a magnificent sword back onto 
itself, and beaten it back into a shaft. By the time they had left for 
bed, he was left with a shaft almost exactly the same as he had started 
with.

She was tending the flowers in her garden, healing the sick ones, and 
pampering the healthy when she heard footfalls behind her. Surprised 
when she saw her husband, her jaw almost hit the ground when she saw 
what he was carrying.

It was eight foot tall, an almost completely plain staff, topped with a 
pair of wicked looking blades. She did not know what it was, but there 
was no way that he could have created something so... perfect... in two 
days.

He smiled even wider and posed before her, weapon held beside him. "In 
the last two years, I taught the metal. I forged the metal, and built 
in all of the tracks by which the magic flows. The metal is not just in 
the shape of the weapon, it _is_ the weapon. To the very heart of the 
metal, every gram of it's substance is the weapon. 
"When I finally brought the weapon to the outside, and gave it exterior 
form, it was just the same as polishing a gem stone. The work was done, 
it was only the final gloss that was needed.
"This is a weapon like no other in the Kingdom. Every other weapon 
carries the power inside it. This is a lens. A lens for your spirit. 
"Others fear you power because they think it is great magic. I say it 
is not the greatness of the magic, but the purity of your soul. You 
have the strength of the heart that is needed to do the greatest of 
tasks.
"Using this as a focus, your powers will be magnified enormously. 
Because it is iron, it is also the ultimate magical shield. When you 
use this, you will always know it is as unique as our love. I would 
not, could not, ever create it's equal for anyone else."

He offered it to her and she took it carefully. It was heavy, a solid 
weapon, of solid iron, no wood or crystal anywhere. It was simple in 
appearance, and completely devoid of decoration. Try as she might, she 
could also not sense any magic in it. The weapon was as dead as any 
other piece of iron. 

But he said it was a lens. Gently, carefully, she gave the slightest 
tracing of soul, her heart, her spirit, her power, into her hand, and 
channelled it through the weapon. When she felt the massive power which 
coursed through the staff, she almost dropped it in shock. It was a 
lens of amazing proportions.

She looked at him, and their eyes met, his blue-grey locked with her 
purple. As ever, she looked into him, and felt the bottomless pit of 
love which he had. This time he had something new. Pride.

"Sailor Saturn," he intoned formally. "May I present the Silence 
Glaive."

Hotaru awoke, looking around the room in wide eyed horror. All the 
seals were in place. All the wards untampered. Nothing had even tried 
to disturb his sleep. That fact alone worried her even more that the 
substance of the dream. Because if the dreams did not come from 
without...

Hotaru was worried again, and the fact that she was worried, worried 
her even more. Worry was bad, it ate away at the soul, it distracted 
you, blurred your aura, and slowed you down in a fight. Worry was the 
enemy of the mind, and life had taught her that you need a clear mind 
at all times. The only thing to do at a time like this is hit 
something.

Hmm, there was still school to go today, and she was supposed to train 
with Rei-san tonight... Better have a quick workout in the garage. 
Heading past the kitchen she waved hello to Kaolinite... No, wait, she 
was calling herself Kaori now. 

"I'm going to the garage for a bit... I'll be back in a couple of hours 
before school."

The woman smiled and kept putting together a fancy breakfast for her 
'father'. Hotaru shrugged. She had seen love in enough people to know 
what it looked like. It looked like Kaori had fallen quiet heavily for 
Tomoe Souichi, and it looked like she was really trying to catch him. 

If Hotaru had really be his daughter, she might have felt something: 
jealousy or happiness, but she was really just a boarder in the house, 
so she was happy to watch the melodrama unfold. He hoped that she would 
succeed. He too had been in love once, and he knew just how special it 
was.

In the garage little Hotaru ignored the restrictions she imposed to fit 
into the act that she played, and concentrated on training. After going 
through a few of the most basic Kata to calm her mind, she closed her 
eyes and relaxed. Standing dead still in the middle of the garage, she 
slowly eased all of the constraints she placed on her aura. 

Her Ki - developed over hundreds of years of intense training - slowly 
expanded as she relaxed. Normally she showed only the weak spirit of 
someone feeble and untrained, but this was just because she continually 
exerted a large force to keep her 'soul' from expanding to it's proper 
proportions. 

Part way through the relaxation, she began to glow faintly, nothing 
more than a faint blue outline to her body. As she continued to relax, 
the aura grew, becoming fully visible to the naked eye of even the most 
untrained. When she was finished she stood proud, glowing bright enough 
to hurt anyone looking directly, a sphere of glowing blue power centred 
around her naval, and taking up as much space as a small car.

She rarely let herself relax like this these days. It was too easy for 
people to see her, and if a little healing scared them, what would they 
think of a human firefly? So thinking, she cast a minor levitation 
spell and slowly began to circle the room. Around and around she went, 
raising the spell to true flight to allow her some acrobatics. 

After a time she started casting small fireballs, and shooting them 
down with Ki blasts. A flagrant waste of mana and Ki, it was beautiful 
none the less. All around the room, lights flew and burst, like 
fireworks on the Emperor's birthday.

All too soon there was a knock at the door. Killing her spells and 
quenching her Ki, Hotaru dropped the last couple of feet to the ground. 
Even as Kaori opened the door, the blue light was fading, and the last 
sparks were fading into the darkness. Smiling at the confused looking 
woman, Hotaru slipped past her to go for breakfast. 'I wonder what she 
thinks she saw? And by the looks of it, hitting things is not the only 
way to relax.'

School was school was school. Suffice it to say that too many hours of 
mindless suffering were only mitigated by the few classes she enjoyed, 
and the times when she did not have to think about the other students.

Changing after school, Ranma made a phone call. "Hino-sensei, this is 
Ranma. Can you tell Rei-san that something has come up, and I will be a 
bit late... Thanks... See you around seven... Yes... Bye"

That over and done with, Ranma could afford a little more time for some 
recreation. He had tried half a dozen dojo by now, and no-one really 
measured up to the standards that he would require of his own students, 
let alone their teachers. Tonight would be a little different. Tonight 
he was just going to try the simple tactic of calling out a challenge 
to the dojo, and find out how strong they were. 

He was at his second dojo and had just called out his challenge when 
the sensei walked up to him. He was an old man, well into his eighties, 
and looked every year of it. He even walked they way you would expect 
an eighty year old would.

"Sir, I am the last Sensei of this dojo. I only teach self defence for 
school children, and some exercise classes for the old folk like me in 
the area. I ask that you may forgive me for declining your challenge."

Ranma looked at the old man. He couldn't be more than four and a half 
foot tall, stooped and withered, but his face held pride. Pride and 
determination. Ranma bowed.

"Sensei, of all the dojo I have fought, yours is the only one I can 
respect. There is no dishonour in growing old, there is only honour and 
respect. When I grow too old to challenge others, I can only hope that 
I may still be respected as you are, to be trusted with the lives and 
learning of the future of our country, and the lives and wisdom of the 
past.
"I have always been told that true strength comes not from muscle, but 
from brains and the wisdom to use it.
"I would beg of the Master the wisdom to learn at his feet, and to 
assist his school, teaching what I may."

The old man nearly fell over. Too often in the past he had seen these 
brash young men come in, seeking to prove something. All to often they 
had shown scorn, not realising that they too would be this way some 
time in the future. 

Now he had a fine young man in front of him. A fighter by all 
indication. A man who wished to learn at his feet and teach at his 
side. If the man was as good as he implied, the future of the dojo was 
assured, at least until his grandson was old enough to take over. The 
man returned Ranma's bow and accepted his offer.

Even as he spoke, the doors opened and a stunning young woman with long 
locks of luscious blue hair stepped in. When the two men faced her, she 
pointed at Ranma. "Shampoo challenge!"

Facing his new teacher, Ranma smiled. "Sensei, if you do not mind, I 
shall take the lady's offer. Hopefully I shall show you that I am 
worthy of assisting your school."

Turning back to the girl, she glared at him. "Less talk, more fight!"

Ranma smiled. As soon as he settled into a defensive stance, the woman 
leapt at him. Backing up quickly, Ranma dodged a flurry of kicks and 
punches. Finding himself backed against a wall, Ranma jumped and 
bounced off the ceiling to land behind her.

Even as he moved, she retaliated with surprising speed. Moments before 
his feet touched the floor, she struck, launching a trio of side kicks 
at him. He blocked them all, but was stunned. Finally a formidable 
opponent! A woman of skill, someone to challenge his abilities 
somewhat. 

They danced together for a few more moments, closing and retreating. 
While her offensive skills were superb, her defence left much to be 
desired. Then again, she seemed fast enough to be able to defeat most 
opponents before they could strike at her. Finally seeing an opening 
too good to miss, he snaked out a foot to trip her. 

Shampoo of course expected this and jumped over it. Knowing that his 
next move was one of several logical follow-ups, she blocked two and 
evaded a third. It was the forth attack, a repeat of the initial foot 
sweep which took her down. Martial Arts at this level was a lot like 
chess, it was a matter of how many moves ahead you could plan. 
Actually, it was more like a physical version of chess, with more 
dimensions, fewer pieces, and lots of pain... but the analogy still 
holds.

Shampoo lifted herself back to her feet and growled at the man. He 
stood there so calm, hardly even breathing heavily, while she was 
giving her utmost. Could this be a man to beat her? Never! She would 
never give in! It was not just a warriors body which allowed her to 
win, it was her knowledge. Shampoo was backed by 3000 years of Amazon 
tradition and knowledge. 

Taking positions again, the two closed and began to play. After just a 
few moments, Shampoo was close enough, and launched her attack. "KACHUU 
TENSHIN AMAKURIGEN!"

Instantly, he arms became blurs as she launched over two hundred 
punches at him. None could stand before the power of Amazon techniques. 
It was true, even as he moved and blocked to his greatest, Ranma could 
not stop them all, and almost a dozen blows rained down onto his body, 
throwing him back, crashing into a wall.

"Aiya! Shampoo win!"

Then the body moved, and Ranma climbed back to his feet. The side of 
his face was a bit red where she struck once, but other than that, he 
looked fine. "No yet. Not by a long shot. I wanted to keep this nice: 
just straight out fighting. If you want to bring special attacks into 
it, you're in for a real shock."

Again they closed, and Ranma could almost weep at how open Shampoo left 
herself. All she could see was the power of her own attack, never 
realising that her opponent may be her equal or superior. After all, 
someone that could block almost all of her Chestnut Fist without using 
a special attack...

This time when she called out her attack, he called at the same time, 
and that was the end. In the second that she had, Shampoo threw exactly 
ninety eight punches; Ranma counted them. He also blocked them. One 
handed. While punching her, blow for blow. And while holding back from 
full speed and power.

Shampoo gradually awoke, feeling like she had been beaten all over with 
a baseball bat. Actually, that was not quite right. Not all over, the 
man - the victor - had somehow been careful with his blows. Not once 
had he struck her pretty face. Not once had he hit the tender flesh of 
her breasts. No where else had been spared, but all of the most 
painful, vulnerable points had been missed. She sighed happily. Not 
only was her husband incredibly skilled, he was caring and 
compassionate.

Hearing her sigh, her husband and the old man came over to where she 
lay resting on the floor. Opening her large eyes fully, she took in his 
handsome face and sighed again. She really was lucky. Latching on to 
his neck, she said the only words that mattered. "Wo da Airen."

Ranma looked at the girl askew. She was holding him around the neck and 
purring in a most disturbing fashion. Since she spoke in Chinese and 
seemed to have a heavy accent, he decided to try that language. <"I'm 
sorry Miss, I'm not your husband. My name is Ranma. Do you have a 
concussion?">

<"Aiya! You speak Chinese! You defeated me in combat, so you now must 
marry me. It's the law">

<"What? What sort of law is that?">

Shampoo pulled out her trusty Amazon law book and opened it to the 
correct page. It was a well worn page, she had read it many times 
trying to find a loophole. Fortunately, it did say defeat, not just 
'give a decent challenge' otherwise she may have weakened and married 
some lesser man. She was glad she waited. 

Ranma read the rule and his eyes went wide. 'I did not want to get in 
to this sort of thing.' Flipping over to the front, he looked at the 
cover. 'Joketsuzoku Book Of Law, Third Revision, Published 1802'.
<"Revised addition? What is this garbage? Here!">

Pulling out his own copy - 'First Edition, Date Unknown' - he opened it 
to the relevant page and pointed out the paragraph saying that an 
Amazon need not marry another Amazon after a challenge unless the fact 
that it was a marriage challenge was stated clearly before hand.

<"Silly husband! You're not an Amazon. See, this page.">

<"Are you a Joketsuzoku Amazon, or do you just carry their Book Of 
Law?">

<"I am a proud Amazon.">

<"Then I don't have to marry you. Unless I have been cast out by a full 
Council of Mistresses, I am still an Amazon.">

<"Silly husband! You think you know some of our laws and can confuse 
me? Never! Only a Mistress requires a full Council to be cast out, and 
I knew all the Mistresses before I left. You are not a Mistress, you 
are not an Amazon. So, you a now my husband!">

Ranma mumbled under his breath and checked the time. Damn, almost time 
to meet Rei-san. I don't have time for this. "Shampoo, I am a Amazon. I 
am not your husband, and I have to go. Nice fighting you."

While Shampoo hesitated, trying to switch back to her faulty Japanese, 
he stood up and left the hall. Seeing her husband leaving without her, 
she too rose, fighting off the weakness of being pummelled into 
unconscious just fifteen minutes prior. Seeing him leap to a roof she 
followed, and managed to keep up for most of the way. Then he dropped 
down to the street and vanished.

She went to where she last saw him, but there was no longer any sign. 
After prowling the streets and yards for almost two hours, she could 
not see him. But she knew where he was, roughly. She knew her man, she 
knew his description, and there was no way that she would let such a 
perfect mate pass through her fingers. Time to get some help.


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