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What has come before...

Death comes to us all. Unfortunately, due to the 'Nerima effect' she made a mistake, and failed to claim a certain aqua-transsexual's soul upon his, or rather confusingly for the hapless collector of souls, HER demise... Ranma now had to figure out what that means, avoid becoming engaged to Nabiki, and survive Ukyo's reaction when she wakes up. To further add to poor boy/girl's misery, Desire is STILL trying to hook him/her up with its elder sister. In an attempt to re-open a farcical engagement it prompted Genma to make as a child, Desire has given Kho-Lohn, Matriarch of the Joketsuzoku, and long time ... you'll find out eventually... a method to re-open Xian-Pu's claim, thus reopening Telute's.

This is going to go down like a bowling ball through fresh custard. Badly, explode messily and make stains that're impossible to get out of your clothes. You can just tell...

All this, plus the creation of Jusenkyo, the revelation of just why most of the Ranma cast is insanely powerful, or at least insane, although quite possibly not in this part, and a emerging demi-divinity with designs on its old boss Destruction's job.

And the story is still only into it's third day....!

PS: Anyone who doesn't like seeing Akane's nightmares... or blood... had better skip the first few pages.

For the anti Akane league : Sadly not all the blood is hers.

For the Akane worshippers : Sadly some of it is.

For the demon worshippers : There's lots of blood.

Effexor entertainment presents
A Prozac production

Ranma: Endless Complications

Written and directed by
Someone who can't think of a witty tag here.

Ranma 1/2 and Sandman are copyrighted to their respective creators

Episode Six:

A youngish man looked out over his domain, his skeries, his islets of peace in his chaotic realm, the numberless souls that rested in his demesne, and frowned. His skin was alabaster white, his eyes pools of darkness that drank the light and reflected nothing but a wisdom and power beyond mortal ken. His hair was as pale as his flesh, yet his face was as unlined as a babes. In short, he was Dream of the Endless, and he was worried.

"Something is out of place..."

"My lord?" An previously unobtrusive man appeared at the side of his master in the fashion that generations of butlers had attempted to perfect over the course of centuries, and never achieved. The man was tall, gangly, gingerhaired with a face that could break into a welcoming smile that could reassure the most nervous, or fall into worry sufficient to scare the most bold. Ears with points surmounted either side of his long faced head, and on that face a look of slight confusion held sway.

"Lucien, it... I do not know what it is, all I know is that it is out of place. My predecessor would have known, yet I cannot ... Of course," finished Dream, his face snapping up as his assumed memories finally placed the disturbing sensation. "Come with me Lucien, there is a place we must go, I have to be sure of this." Lucien boggled mildly, quite confused by the attitude of his lord. Of course he knew that this was a new master, it was just that there was so much of the old Morpheus in this new Dream that the additions and quirks seemed to stand out more brilliantly.

"Of course my lord, but... wouldn't Matthew be more appropriate? As a rule I do tend to accompany you on internal journeys and he the external..."

"Of course. My apologies. If you could have him sent to me on the outskirts of the dreaming I would be grateful."

"Of course my lord," smiled the gangly librarian, "I shall do that at once... will you require anything else once you have visited this dreamer?"

"If you could arrange for a light lunch I would be grateful."

"Of course my lord. I shall go and call for Matthew..."

With that Lucien retreated to the shadows, his slightly stiff-legged walk as ever making him look like a marionette, the grace and speed of his motion like a ballerina. As Dream watched his companion take his ever-present barrow of books with him he mused on the nature of those who would give their service to him. Then without any fanfare he faded into the air, tracking the disturbance that plagued him.

In her bedroom Akane finally regained the control of her body. Eyes dry from her sightless vigil over the Tokyo skyline, muscles cramped from her unmoving position, she retreated to her bed, pulled her duvet over her, and then, still fully clothed, she slept.

As she lay there dreaming a haze of unwelcome memory crept in, and again and again she repeated the words of Telute and the biter denunciations of the Saotome Matriarch, a cruel litany of her sins and follies that she could not escape, and perversely did not wish to.

"I NEVER kill! I take those who have died, but I do NOT kill! YOU do that!" "...who hit you up there...? I'll remind you - Akane."

He deserved it! Hadn't he? Telute's words bit deep.

"...this killer cannot be allowed to go free - she has ended the line of Saotome..."

Nodoka's were worse. The cold rage filled look at her sons betrayer. Ranma had loved her in his own clumsy way, had saved her life, gone out of his way to defend her, sacrificed cures, pride, self-respect to stay with her, and her only reaction had been to treat him like low grade garbage, a mannequin to abuse, assault and scorn.

A picture began to form around her, a image that held all the desperate reality of a fever dream, a phantasm that strips away reality. Again she swung at Ranma, Shampoo leapt off from the position where she had glomped on, wearing that sickeningly cute expression, that sluttishly short dress.

"RAAAANNNNMAAAAAAA! How dare you hang around with that Chinese bimbo!"

"Why shouldn't I you uncute tomboy, I mean look at you - yer thigh's are too thick, you've got no grace, ya can't cook, ya macho chick... Not like Shampoo here... " The dream Ranma paused to glomp back onto the delighted amazon, initiating a deep and passionate kiss that curled the girls toes. Releasing her, he spun back towards Akane, morphing swiftly into his female form, who posed with a sultry look across at a stunned Akane.

"Besides... I'm a much better girl than you are," she continued with a sultry laugh, deliberately turning her back on Akane, and walking away with a graceful sway that would have challenged any male. Coming up from the sides, Ukyo flung herself at the redhead, while Kodachi poured hot water on Ranma-chan, restoring Akane's protector... who wrapped an arm apiece across her rivals significant female assets, and walked into the distance.

Akane shrieked in rage, betrayal, bestial hatred, pulled forth a weapon from somewhere, and sprinted at the undefended Ranma's back. Swinging she saw the sharp steel blade of a katana split Ranma cleanly in twain, gore splashing across herself, streamers of intestines leaping forth from the corpse to entangle her footing, wrap around her arms, vital organs falling to the ground in time to create a stinking and slimy mat for her face as she lost her balance and fell forwards.

Looking around her in horror, Akane saw the blade she had so blithely assumed to be a bokken, or a comically oversized mallet, dissolve as if Ranma's blood were an acid of some unknowably potent type. Moments later she felt her face sizzle and crack as her flesh retreated from her bones, leaving her once attractive face branded with the mark of Cain.

"I didn't mean it... I didn't mean it!" She shrieked through her half face. Ahead of her Kodachi, spotless in her most formal clothing, unmarred by the blood, free from her insanity looked down at her with an expression of contempt and disdain.

"You broke your toys again. You never meant to break them, but you would always smash them, little girl..." With that, the Black Rose stepped away, Ukyo, beautiful, feminine, in a dress, yet still carrying her ever present bakers peel and bandoleer of mini-spatulas lifted Akane from the gore on the floor, carrying her nerveless figure in front of her.

"You are spoiled. You killed Ranchan once, you wanted to kill him again. You are a killer. You should never have stood in our way... You just weren't good enough for him..." Ukyo passed her burden to a third figure who stepped forth from the shadows, next to tilted object that Ukyo leant her against. Tendo Kimiko stepped forth with lengths of rope, and bound her hands and arms to crosspieces, then her legs, finally stepping back and looking with cold dislike at Akane's tied 'T' shape. Akane felt fresh shame as she was crucified like a common murderer, a death designed for those who were without honour or ancestry

"I don't know you. My daughter would never those who were innocent. My daughter would never judge without the facts. My daughter would know forgiveness. Mercy. Compassion. Temperance. You have none of these. You are not my daughter, and I renounce you utterly. You are no blood of mine."

Akane wept tears of blood, unable to speak through this agony of repudiation. *Mother* she wept silently, *Don't leave me mommy! Please! I'll be good - it won't happen again!* She felt motion, as Shampoo and Cologne pulled on ropes, lifting the enormous cross into position.

"Pervert girl come to bad end."

"Granddaughter, let this be a lesson, do not exult in your skills, do not be ruled by pride, temper your anger, control is the essence of the art. Observe this lesson of the unworthy one and do not forget."

"Shampoo will study Great-grandmother."

Mouse came forth to repudiate her by his presence, words failing him as he stared at the bisected corpse at his feet. He looked at Akane who winced as best she could under the look of amazed disgust. Beside her and below, Ryoga unpacked his backpack.

"You know," he began conversationally, "I never liked him, but none of us would have done what you did. Mousse never wanted Ranma dead, just out of the way, I wanted to make him feel the hell he made my life. The girls loved him, still I expect that would be something you can't understand. You only know how to hurt people. Do you now what makes it funny though?" Smirked Ryoga, becoming darker in aspect, his skin changing from a travel worn tan to a deeper smoke-stained hue, his fangs becoming more prominent.

"The best bit is that I didn't need to do anything. He loved you, and you made his life quite hellish enough. But that's my job... So I'm going to make YOUR life hell..."

Ryouga's change complete a full fledged oni dressed in the rude smock of an Eta[1] stood in front of the captive girl who could only squirm and weep as the truth of Ryoga's words bit more trenchantly that the ropes that encircled her limbs. Bitter tears fell from her single eye as she flagellated herself mercilessly for not knowing of Ranma's love when it still mattered, not taking the time she had to be with him, for her unjust and undeserved mistrust.

"Mouko Takabisha!"

The demonic Hibiki rippled like a reflection in a pond, and disappeared. Akane looked up with a sudden wild surge of hope that it had all been a mistake. The sight that greeted her was not one to inspire confidence. Ranma stood there, his two sides sliding up and down each other, with a gory line straight down his centre, brief glances of biology best left hidden, and a look of tender love on one side, betrayal and loathing on the other. With a simple leg sweep the cross was shattered, falling backwards where it dissolved to dust, freeing Akane from her entrapment.

The parody of Ranma reached forth one hand, and cupped her ruined face, flesh growing back under that tender caress. Akane felt sick as the two sides of Ranma continued their motion, like a sailor who sees the horizon dip and peak. Gradually both sides ceased their motion, lining up smoothly, the rage fading away from the figure, until it was the lover, whole, save for a razor thin scar down his centreline, who smiled tenderly at her.

"I'm Sorry Akane... I love you, and I forgive you..."

He forgave her? He still loved her after all she'd done, after she'd been shown for the sick and evil person she was? It was too much for her to bear.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Akane screamed and flung the covers back from herself, covered in cold sweat. In the doorway, Ranma, miraculously whole looked at her with compassionate worry in his eyes, before walking over and sitting on edge of the bed. Akane flung herself into his lap, holding tightly to him while she sobbed incoherently and wildly.

Ranma, who had actually been on his way to the bathroom, cautiously, carefully, reached an arm forward and patted her awkwardly on the back. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked in confusion. A renewed burst of intermixed sobs, incoherent apologies, and deep soul wrenching repetitions of his name and her mothers letting him know that Akane was not presently answering question. He didn't get it though - wouldn't Akane normally be pounding on him by this point, calling him a pervert? Still... As he gradually encircled the hysterical girl in his arms, he had to admit he felt good helping her like this.

He began murmuring quietly to her, the words less important than the reassuring tone of voice and affection they provided. Gradually Akane's sobs became further apart, her anguished wails fainter, her ragged breaths more peaceful, until Akane relaxed and slept in the arms of her protector, finally sure that he hadn't abandoned her. Gently laying her back in the bed, Ranma tucked the duvet back over her recumbent form, and allowed Kasumi's hand to steady him as he stumbled under the weight of Akanes emotional need. Looking back they shared a sad smile at the sleeping girl.

"She always looked so cute when she wasn't angry..." sighed Ranma eventually, unable to endure the empty silence between himself and the eldest Tendo daughter.

"Thank you for helping her," returned Kasumi. "She was like this when mother died... And now I think you are the one person she needs to recover..."

"Her? Recover? That uncute tomboy actually needing someone... That'll be the day! huh.."

Kasumi looked at the concern that showed around the edges of Ranma's eyes, and responded to that rather than his seemingly uncaring words. "She feels awful for what she did... She does love you you know..."

"Maybe..." Muttered Ranma. Kasumi was just able to catch a brief flash of sadness and pain across Ranma's face before he locked it inside his mask of good natured pride. Kasumi was sure that he was only showing that much because he trusted her, and even then couldn't bring himself to open totally... Ranma turned to leave. "...But now mom's gotten involved... it's gonna be a big mess Kasumi. A biiiig mess..." Sighing Ranma levered himself to his feet, and walked out of Akane's room. Behind him Kasumi looked at her sleeping sister with a look of pain, unable to see a way to mend the fences between Ranma and her sibling. Seating herself by her sister, she traced a finger along the edge of Akane's face, peeling thin black strands of hair away from her sweat stained face.

Smiling sadly at her comatose sister, Kasumi wept silently for the pain that was yet to come.

By a small pool a group of actors washed their faces, removing their clothes and swapping them for the overalls of their daily lives before arranging themselves ready to go to work on striking their set ready for their next performance. Around the small space a pair of what seemed to be young men split themselves from each other, wiping the remnants of the theatrical blood from their heads, nearby another youth removed a pair of oversized fangs from his mouth, working his jaw in pleasure at having the damn things out. Above this all, silhouetted against the light two figures watched, one with a rounded bulbous head, the other apparently hunchbacked... until they walked closer to the light and revealed themselves to be Jack Pumpkinhead, the lord of this realm, and his raven companion.

"You gotta admit, that was one doozy of a dream boss," mused the pumpkinhead puffing thoughtfully on the butt of one of his handrolled cigarettes, smoke curling gently through his eyes. "One heck of a nightmare, bet the Corinthian's gonna be pissed he missed out on this one..." Sighing, the scarecrow like man strode down into the set of the latest successfully completed nightmare and started barking orders to the faceless spirits who helped set up these custom order dreams. Distantly, the two on the lip of the small perfomance space heard the foreman of the dreaming muttering to himself. "Poor kid, wonder just what the heck she's punishing herself for?...Shouldn't happen to a dog..."

Dream allowed nothing to pass across his face as he listened to his servent grumbling before setting down to work, giving one last look around the small amphitheatre space. Apparently satisfied with what he had seen, he nodded softly, perhaps even approvingly to himself, and beginning to walk towards the centre of the dreaming to reflect on what this particular mortal's dream meant. Behind him somebody muttered something vile as the cross snapped at the base and clonked her in the head.

"So are you going to tell me what this was all about now boss?" croaked Matthew, readjusting his feet for better traction on his masters moving shoulder.

"It is... difficult to explain. Suffice it to say that what happened here must happen. And must happen to others. Of this no more can I say, but you may with to talk to the brothers, but do not be surprised if they do not know of it, this is more secret than the end of history, more mysterious than life."

"Gee, that's what I love about you boss, always ready with the straight answer," replied Matthew, maintaining a straight face as only a raven could. "Is there anything you can tell me about what's going on? Last time you started getting this mysterious your predecessor went for a walk with his sister..."

"I thank you for your concern Matthew, but you may rest assured that i a in no danger of passing on. That honour rests with my older brother. What we see here is merely preparation for that event..." With that the Dream Lord faded into the mists that separated one area of the dreaming from another leaving a rather startled bird flapping his wings desperately in order to avoid landing on his butt.

'It's not his bloody brother *again?* Oh lor, last time the boss took it into his head to go after Destruction he damn nearly got the dreaming destroyed!' thought Matthew in a total tizzy. A second thought struck. 'It's Destruction's turn to die?! this is NOT good...' Spiralling up into the mists Matthew began winging his way to Eve at his best possible pace. He needed someone to talk this over with and Able was currently dead, and likely to stay that way till the middle of next week.

'But why her?' thought the ex-human in puzzlement as he flapped his way into the mists...

Ukyo woke up with her usual lack of enthusiasm. Despite being bath a world class cook and martial artist, she was a teenager, and a reluctance to rise from the warm confines of bed was part of the package. Gently cracking several stiff joints, she sat up, puzzled to find herself in Ranma's bedroom. Sadly, she concluded, since she was still fully dressed she hadn't managed to nail her Ranchan. A few seconds later the thought occurred that if she hadn't been sleeping with Ranma, then what the hell was she doing in his bed.

A quick check of short term memory indicated that something had happened, but sadly failed to give any clues, and the long term memory bank was flashing little 'gone for lunch' signals. Sighing grumpily to herself she flopped gracelessly back onto the bed preparatory to catching a few more Z's. After all, she'd find out eventually, she usually did. Just look at Shampoo - it took her three months from the time she reconciled with Ranma, but she found out that she was competition EVENTUALLY...

Actually, that probably wasn't a terribly comforting way of looking at it at all... Now why was the back of her mind screaming "AMAZONS!" at her?

Ten seconds later she was out the door and halfway down the hall. Very shortly after THAT she sheepishly walked back in collected her weapons, neatly arranged on the dresser, and then ran off again, in time to collide with Ranma as he left the smallest room in the Tendo home.

"Urk! What's up Ucchan?" asked a very startled Ranma who hadn't expected to meet with 135 pounds of highly worried, bouncy, crossdressing fiancee while he was using the loo.

"You aren't going to marry her!" demanded Ukyou forcefully, "tell me you aren't!"

"Erm, no, why would I?" Asked a baffled Ranma.

"You're mine! You're supposed to marry me Ranchan, not some Jonny come lately!"

"Ucchan..." Ranma looked up at her with pain writ large on his face. "I'm not. All the claims 'r gone, I don't HAVE to marry anyone anymore..." He saw the look of surprised betrayal and pain on the face of his oldest friend, and immediately began to pour words out to make that hurt go away... Sadly, Ranma wasn't very good at debate, letting people down gently, or letting them down at all for that matter.

"Look, I like you a lot, you're my best friend, and it's not like we have to stop seeing each other, it's just that all the arranged stuff is gone, I don't HAVE ta marry anyone for honour anymore, but only if I want to, and please stop crying...."

"But why won't you marry me? Don't you like me? Do you like them more? Please! You have to tell me why you can't marry me!"

"Hang on here a second," Signed Ranma, returning to the bathroom, returning momentarily as his female self. "C'mon, let's go siddown and talk." Tentatively Ranma-chan extended a delicate hand towards the chef, and smiled. Ukyo sniffled slightly in return, produced a grin that lit up her face like the very first dawn, and covered the hand in her own.

Together, they walked out into the garden. Sitting himself down under a window, Ranma indicated the free space net to him.

"You gotta understand it wasn't my idea any of it," began Ranma-chan, hunting for any gambit to open up with. "The multiple fiancee's, all the challengers, even the art..." She sighed a little, squirming into a slightly more comfortable position as Ukyo sat beside her.

"In a way I'm grateful to pops for that, the art is probably the best thing that ever happened to me, but, you know that the art was something that was forced on us both yeah? Pops pushed me into being the best, and you never got a real choice after he did the dirty to you." Ukyo grunted non-commitally at this, unsure of where Ranma's logic was taking her.

"Look, I'm the best, but it's not what I would have chosen, it was chosen for me, right? I may always choose the art now, but perhaps I might have chosen differently before I started. Everything in my life is decided for me - 'You must be the best, you must take over the schools, you must marry Akane, You must marry Shampoo...'" Here Ranma paused and sadly continued, "'You must marry Ukyo'.

"I just want to choose myself for once... And I want to do this right, not just because people expect it of me. In a way, getting killed was the best thing that coulda happened ta me!" Finished Ranma-chan firmly, eyes looking inwards, a set look of determination on her face.

"What?!" interjected Ukyo horrified, "How can you say something like that?"

"Because it's the truth - now I can do what I want without having to worry about the damn family honour, or getting Shampoo into trouble with the ol' ghoul, or Akane into trouble with her folks, or even get me into trouble with mom. Look, you're my best friend, yes?"

"Of course Ranchan, but I don't -"

"Just listen?" Ukyo winced at the look of tired resignation on Ranma's face. Evidently this was a request that she had made before... and from the looks of it without much success. Forcing her protestations down he composed her face before eventually nodding to a slightly startled, and highly pleased Ranma to continue.

"Thanks Look, you never pushed me into anything, you were always there for me as a kid, it was the one thing that I did for myself, and even then pops managed to stick his oar in..." She murmured bitterly before picking up her thought. "But now we're back together right?"

"Yes, but I don't understand..." Ranma looked at the face of his confused friend and smiled a little.

"Look at it this way, now we don't have to worry about the damn engagement you can just be a friend, or I can finally find out who I really like without the pressure. Look Shampoo is of the running, and I have no intention of Marryin' Teluete or Nabiki, so it's just a chance to have some space to myself, d' you see?"

Ukyo evidently didn't. "So you're saying that without the engagement it's al over, and you don't have to worry about me anymore?" She said dejectedly, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

Ranma pulled at her hair in frustration. "That ain't it at all! I'm just sayin' that if you'd all just back off I'd know what I wanted! you keep pushin' an' I'll never know! Argh!" Ukyo played dirty. She began to quiver her chin, almost imperceptibly, and turned her wide liquid brown eyes at Ranma before letting the first tear fall. Ranma's fragile control over her fate failed as she saw a friend in pain and hugged her until she had cried herself out.

It has often been said that Death walks among us, and this is broadly true. Not that often, and not for long, but Telute was fond of her annual vacation from her job. Currently though she was walking the earth in slightly more than her usual job-mandated quantities, even going so far as to have spent the night at a friends.

She was feeling mildly guilty about it.

Her job might have seemed simple, find a dying person, free them from their mortal shell, deposit them wherever they were supposed to go next. A rather specialised form of stewardessing, lightened only by the fact that there were more than a few deities, demons and otherworldly beings of power who had set up centralised collection points for the recently corpsed, or simply collected what she freed... Valkyries, Angels, that annoying Deadman, the list went on.

But it was still her job, and she was the only one who COULD do it, the only one who DID do it. She was in fact still doing it, but simply being on the mortal plane for this length of time was starting to make her slightly embarrassed, and giving her that awful feeling you have right when you realise that there's no way you can hide the fact that you've been goofing off before the boss arrives. Rather silly considering that in the end even the gods would come to her, and that she was part of the basic structure of the universe, entropy given form, but the feeling remained.

So Telute, as she preferred to be known as, went for a walk to clear her head. Possibly a change of location would clear the jitters out of her skull, and then she could get down to a touch of relaxing. It wasn't as though she hadn't walked the earth before, but then she had been in the company of her brother, or running errands that had to be performed. But she'd never taken a holiday of her own volition, and like a five year old child playing with a forbidden toy, she got the collywobbles when she thought about what she was supposed to be doing.

Walking through the downtown Tokyo shopping district was a great way to alleviate stress. Although it was still mid afternoon, and the sun shone brightly enough to make the flickering of the garish neon lights pointless, there was an energy about the streets that entranced her. So many people, all doing their own thing, all living to the best of their abilities, uncaring of the cold realities that helped define her existence. It made her jealous, it made her envious, but mostly, it made her depressed.

'Who do I think I'm kidding?' she mused to herself as she stopped at a small ramen stand. 'I'm not supposed to be here! I'm not a mortal, I'm not LIKE them... So why am I trying to convince myself to stay with them?'

She thanked the vendor politely, flashing her brilliant smile that didn't entirely reach her eyes, before wandering off, a pensive frown just barely apparent over the creased smile lines of her face. 'A few days ago I was miserable because I never get to just talk to anyone, and now here I am making myself miserable because I have met some people who don't mind who I am...'

Eureka.

"I never interfered before... I never actually interacted!" Around her several pedestrians gave her odd looks before unobtrusively increasing the distance between themselves and the mad woman. A distance that was SWIFTLY increased, as having taken a mouthful of the fresh noodles, she spat them back out, breathing out over the seared surface of her tongue, a look of surprised discomfort on her face.

*HOT! Too HOT!* She chanted to herself, as around her people started to give her dirty looks over her lack of manners. With a sheepish smile, and a disapproving look back at the vendor, who grinned toothily apparently having expected this, she went in search of a drinks machine.

Somehow though, the minor embarrassment, and lesson in humility helped. Despite the pain from her tongue and tonsils, Teleute felt about a hundred per cent better. A mild humiliation was embarrassing, but cheered her as she realised the *human* element to it.

If only there was a cold drink nearby....

In a realm simultaneously next to our own, and infinitely far removed, a realm more conceptual than actual, the figure of a young man walked lowly across a blasted landscape. The figure was neither young, nor technically a man, but this will suffice for a description. As it walked along, feet being placed with great deliberation along the path it trod, a palpable aura of menace, of natural order. A segment of nature that few willingly acknowledged. The figure embodied the end of species, the inevitable triumph of entropy over life, the defeat of the future. It was as natural and orderly as childbirth, as cold and unyielding as extinction.

Genocide strode forth. True he could have simply willed himself to his destination with a single thought, in this place where reality was perception, and illusion somewhat more substantial than reality it would have been simplicity itself. But there were reasons not to. A place that was a symbol required symbols to function. Thus Genocide walked the territory, and thus in some fashion claimed it for his own. When he was finished he would at last take the centre, and, using the bond he had with the realm, he would force his way into the heart of the realm, become one with it, magnify himself into one of the Endless, a force of primal Destruction that would sweep all away.

Technically he could do it now, but this would be nicely dramatic, and he was in a good mood. His good mood increased as another gremlin flashed across his vision, desperately trying to flee from him.

"Halt," he called, freezing the rust coloured creature in it's tracks. As it turned slowly to look at him he savoured the look of terror in its eyes. This was power, life and death! Well. not really. The gremlin was merely a construct, as was he albeit at a substantially lower level of cognitive awareness, able to be killed and resurrected without ever altering it fundamentally. He reached over, and with an almost gentle gesture crushed the trembling gremlin into a bloody mess.

"Come ON!" he called to the sky in exasperation, "Isn't anyone around here going to put up a fight?!" the wind answered his call. Sighing, Genocide wiped his hands clean on a nearby wall, taking some comfort in the knowledge that as with all things in this realm he had committed an act of symbolism, symbolically mastering the gremlin through the traditional method - blood. The unfortunate creatures death brought more of the functions of the realm under his sway, so it hadn't been a wasted effort.

Behind him as he left, a new gremlin slowly rezzed into existence, created by the same imperative that had created it's dead forbear. As it looked for something to rust shut it saw the fatigue clad figure of its master fade into the distance and shuddered. Beside it the corpse faded into the same grey mist as the figure.

Death= next universe's destiny because you have to have an observer there from the beginning, and if destiny dies at the end of the universe then death is the one who must observe the new universe begin? hmm... where to put this...

[1] Eta, the lowest social class in feudal japan. Eta were the people who killed animals, buried the dead, dealt with prisoners, did the day to day work below the dignity of the peasants etc. Also note that crucifixion was almost never used for a samurai unless they had lost their status, having been stripped of their rank by their lord (the head of the family or the person they were pledged to support). It was also possible to lose your status by being on the losing side of a fight, but for those made Ronin, it was possible to redeem themselves and become samurai again.

I think.

Either way it's one of the most degrading things you could do to a samurai, and the Tendo's are a samurai family