The reposting continues, as the world goes on its way.  

							Switch

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* FIRST FIC * FIRST FIC * FIRST FIC * FIRST FIC * FIRST FIC * FIRST FIC * 
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A Ranma 1/2 Fan Fic
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Switch: Herbs and Spices Day 1
by Nikholas "Switch" F. Toledo
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                      Sixth Sense and Sensibilities



	As one reaches the evening in beautiful and balmy Nerima, one 
begins to feel a tension in the air.  Some static electricity of unknown 
wavelength to travel down the fragrant air.  This is mildly known as 
perversion.
	As the sun sets, so set in the deeper darker evils unknown to such 
kinder souls in the midmorning, or even the afternoon.  But, as sure as 
the dark closes upon the district, there will be no rest for all.

	Kasumi was on her way home, with a basket half-filled with 
groceries.  In her left hand, she had Dr. Tofu's book, which held the 
page she was on with a bookmark of sorts.  Probably a piece of paper she 
had picked up somewhere.  The doctor had been so distracting.  
	But it was getting late.  She had to admit that she rarely let 
herself leave the house, as it was always in some state of disrepair and 
disarray these days, and her visits to the clinic were a frequent and 
reliable breath of fresh air.  As she nodded barely to the west and the 
sun winked sadly at her, she realized that she was also rarely out this 
late in the day.  She had already missed lunch, but she felt justified.  
Her free left hand lazily traced the fence mesh while she sauntered 
slowly to the household, her omnipresent smile just slightly more deep 
and felt.

	After logging in some time waiting tables, Shampoo hit upon an 
idea.  She supposed that she had thought of this some time before, for 
entirely different reasons.  As she donned an apron of pink frills and 
thin wool, she knew exactly why she hadn't done it before:  Amazon law 
was true and fair, as all Amazons should strive to be.  She had had her 
shortcomings, but she had always believed that a man should give himself 
to a woman because he believes that she is the one he wants.  (a matter 
of grave meditation would follow if she had to wonder why Ranma was so 
adamant about choosing Akane:  she must have some cunning spell upon him, 
which she would break.  or else some deeper truth...)
	Nonetheless, she knew well how to concoct such alchemy as 
necessary, and in the case of the pervert called Tsubasa, she was willing 
to pull all stops, else (gasp) be prepared to wed him, in the unlikely 
chance that he beat her groom.  Of course, she could just have her 
husband beat him, but it was always said that an Amazon can hold her own.

	Akane was starting to heat up again.
	"What do you think you're doing?"  she told an (evidently) 
inattentive Ranma, who stood on his hands, facing away from her.
	"Wha--?"  was the infuriating response.
	It must be noted, of course, that Akane was not to hit him because, 
as Ranma had to learn (the hard way), she was not in the right frame of 
mind.  Soun had noticed this while maintaining an unassuming position 
near the door of the dojo.  She was giving in too much to the anger, and 
this anger could be used to your disadvantage.
	Soun watched the two lovers spar in the tradition of the anything-
goes school:  any-which-way.  Ranma leapt upward as Akane started with a 
sweeping kick to the arms and head, before twirling in mid-air to lithely 
land behind her.  She knew that this was going to happen, and was 
prepared to throw a set of barbells at him.  He, on the other hand, was 
likewise prepared.  She faked a throw with her right, which wasn't her 
preferred side anyhow, and the arc of the metal whizzed past harmlessly 
to his blindside.  The ten-kilo weight thudded dully behind him.
	As Akane assumed a sumo stance facing him (which, can be noted, is 
similar to the horse riding stance of several arts, with the distinction 
of having a lower center of gravity, as sumo wrestlers rarely use horses, 
for obvious reasons), with a grimace of promised pain, Ranma decided on a 
change of pace.  Grabbing onto her blue belt, he slid his legs underneath 
the wide space presenting itself under his partner.  At the same time, 
using that same joint as the fulcrum, he pulled her weight toward the 
ground.
	Ranma was sure he'd seen this maneuver once too often (one of which 
could be dancing lessons), excluding the barbells.  The last would not 
have mattered much except for the fact that one of these was on the 
floor, and that Akane's foot had caught itself in it.  And so she was 
halfway to the floor, Ranma could not find an alternative to her hitting 
it.
	Using a property of the Saotome school's techniques for mid-air 
grappling, he again held on to the fastening of her upper gi (otherwise 
known as the belt-ranks) and, without shoving the unanchored female, 
pulled himself upward along her body, extending an arm in order to claim 
her shoulders, hoping to cushion the latter with his body.
	(It must be noted here that most of the arguments and embarrassing 
moments that could have lead to rather prickly positions, among others, 
could begin here.  The fact that Soun was watching all this, he decided 
to take some really quick action-telephotography lessons, as well as call 
the other members of the house.  This might, some would say, 
ineffectively explain why no romance could safely be held at the training 
facilities, thus a reason for marital festivities to be held at bay.)
	Akane, at the point of falling, felt the need to hold on to the 
barbells.  She knew she could execute a proper roll, but Ranma was 
hanging on to her waist and bringing her down.  This easily could have 
been avoided if she was focused on the match, instead of aspects of it.  
She closed her eyes, hoping to avoid pain and/or shock by not being able 
to see.
	Sweat rolled.

	Ukyo woke startled.  In a flash, it was evening.  Her stomach was 
growling, as she had forgotten to have her lunch.  She realized that 
Ryoga must also be quite famished, unless he liked inhaling his 
okonomiyaki.  Fastening her wrap-around, she mildly reminded herself to 
start wearing brassieres, as she didn't wear her bandages to stifle her 
chest growth anymore.  Also, the number of perverts in Nerima was 
astonishingly huge, and she didn't want to get peeped on in case she fell 
asleep like that.
	She numbly registered the fact that Ryoga was not on the mat she 
had lain for him earlier.  This was bad, but there wasn't any sign as to 
where he could have gone, nor of his actual passing.  Her sleep-fogged 
brain took no time in locating him without informing other parts of her, 
thus she had tripped on him, almost falling.  Having righted herself, she 
noticed the profuse blood, which avoided clinging onto his clothes.  Must 
have been some stain-off of sorts.  Anyway, waking him wouldn't exactly 
be the best course of action. 
	Hefting him along his stomach, Ukyo considered where she was to 
drop him.  She nixed the mat, as he might find a way to vanish after 
waking.  On second thought, he could do that anywhere.  With an 
indeterminate amount of disgust, Ryoga was deposited on her bed, in order 
to induce the most comfort and the most slumber.
	Leaving him snoring, Ukyo began to prepare dinner.

	Night began, and near Mt. Fuji, a similar fount of action was 
awaiting to uncoil, feeding upon the stillness of the dark.  It moved, 
and assimilated, gathering information necessary for modular activity.  
Soon, it will attack.

	Mousse blinked.
	He hadn't been glomped before, thus had not been able to identify 
the particular sound a glomp makes with the particular warmth a female 
body covered only by a leotard exudes while executing such a move.  He 
blink-blinked once, then cursed the Will That Be for depriving him of 
sight at such an inopportune occasion.
	Not knowing quite what to do, he couldn't just let his hands do the 
figuring out.  He couldn't do that exactly.  He could just have been 
coated with tar or some other warm and unlikely substance.  He could have 
been stuck in a comforter or something.  He could just hear his own self-
made explanations fly away as Kodachi started to attack his ears with 
some seductive nibbling.
	Kodachi was not going to let this one get away, oh no.  Here he was 
not even stuttering or flinching.  A man who was willing to take all she 
was going to give, and more.  She ran circles on his pecs.  Oh, she knew 
what to do with this darling, little boy.
	Her fantasizing (coupled with decided teasing and biting) was very 
sorely interrupted by the sounds of the servants checking out the 
miscreant duck.  She had forgotten about it, but she believed she was 
justified.  She wasn't going to reveal the presence of the man of her 
dreams to the rest of the world quite yet, not until she has made him 
hers and hers alone.  She tilted slightly backwards, just to check if 
Mousse was to give resistance at the last possible moment, then streaked 
through the early evening sky, not even leaving a parting laugh.

	Tsubasa was halfway to tears.  He had scoured the district in 
search for the one he loved when he bounded past a window.  Not knowing 
better not to peek (as all households in Nerima are guarded with all 
sorts of easy-access weaponry, one could never be sure who's out there), 
he saw a familiar-looking ninja, hefting an unconscious young man to her 
bed.  The scene flew by him, without much registering beyond the obvious.
	Without really knowing why, he had whole tears forming when he 
resumed his more frantic search.

	Nodoka yawned.  She was quite ready to turn in, but she checked her 
list again.  She'd have to get all of that finished tomorrow morning, so 
that she could leave for the umpteenth time to reclaim her family.  Her 
hopes were starting to dim, as there was probably something bad that 
could happen, or could have happened, and her family could be shattered 
before they could be finally reunited.  But she held firm.  Those were 
just silly, trivial worries.  She could trust the Tendos, they were just 
the oldest friends.

	Nabiki was in the dojo, with Ranma.  This type of thing wasn't 
exactly procedure in the household, but since Kasumi had just come back 
and was preparing dinner, and Akane wasn't planning to talk to him 
anytime before the next century (as per usual), she was apparently voted 
unanimously by the fathers.  He was sitting Indian with his hand on his 
unbandaged cheek, all the while his pigtail twirling in mid-air.  She 
thought that it was kind of weird that so much hair was tied there that, 
if Ranma wanted to, he could make it do all sorts of gestures.  It was as 
much a giveaway as the teenager's face, for all that it was worth.  She 
was waiting for the tirade that was dancing in his mind, quite visible 
through his blue eyes.
	For his part, he actually seemed to consider his next words.  That 
she owed to her reputation, personality, and ability to make a buck.  If 
it was free, she would turn it into yen.  She absently licked her lips, 
thinking that she could turn it into even more, if needed.
	He could have started out with the mildly innocuous topic of the 
save with the face hair.  He hadn't event thought of consulting the 
medicine man, and he was inclined to string the old ghoul for information 
(which pays heavier than even the middle Tendo sister's rates), until he 
focused slightly on the legs of the self-made woman.  Not that it would 
matter to him, (and since it wasn't really any of his business) he 
noticed that none of the sisters were of the habit of shaving their legs.  
He himself was glad that he apparently did not inherit his father's 
hairiness, and so was spared of the need, as his alterego would need.  In 
fact, he was lucky to have gotten rid of the mustache early on, else he 
grow one even in his female guise. 
	It didn't even matter that he didn't start the conversation.  She 
could pick it up even if she opened.  Ranma crossly waited for speech to 
commence.
	Nabiki took a hard look at his (now) rugged face, and into his 
eyes.  No one seemed to notice that he dimpled whenever he laughed, just 
below them.  It made for a glittering look, she had seen him used only on 
certain occasions, all at her sister.  These two were so transparent.  
Just like earlier.
	Much to the beleaguered heir's disadvantage, his companion didn't 
even ask about it.  She knew enough, had seen enough, and had enough 
shots, to make her quota.  She had more pressing matters to take care of.
	"Tell me about Ryoga."
	It took him off guard immediately.  She made a faraway look that 
implied she wasn't paying attention to him at all.  He made stares.  He 
even figured to wave his hand in front of her.  To disconcert him 
further, she just as quickly retained a poker face.
	He studied her intently.  Ryoga could just be someone who wanted to 
kill him for some reason or another (spearheaded by the claim that he had 
caused the persistent jerk to be cursed at Jusenkyo's sorrowful pool of 
drowned li'l black piglet), but he could trust the guy to do the right 
thing at the right time.  (Some dark corner of his mind supplied the idea 
that he might think that the idiot could do the right thing for that 
sexless macho chick he was forcibly engaged to, but the more sturdy 
neurons talking to his vocal mechanisms kept shut)  What he couldn't 
exactly get his finger on was the angle Nabiki was using on anything he 
could say about him.  The fool was after him anyway, on a regular enough 
basis, without any prevarication. 
	And the two were on well-enough terms to actually tolerate each 
other most of the time.  He was probably as close to a friend as he could 
get, considering his propensity to trip up anybody within his immediate 
concern.
	Finally, the thought that there was something not quite within his 
grasp about the nature of the conversation to occur, which caused him to 
be more cautious than he already was.
	"What would you want to know?"

	Ukyo ate by candlelight, as she was wont to.  Her dinner was 
solemn, and benignly undisturbed.  Her music was the light snoring her 
dozing and invisible roommate made, telling her that he was indeed 
nearby.  She had thought to wake him up, but the fact the she was going 
to end up in her bed, with him, sent waves of unrepressed anxiety and 
embarrassment.  She could not, would not, tell him of the discoveries she 
had made for them tonight.  Not while he was seized by the fancy of 
Nabiki, as he no doubt was.  A male ego was a fragile thing, but Ryoga's 
was worse.  She'd seen him carry on when he was bent out of shape by 
either Ranma or Akane (involuntarily), and he would somehow be passing 
nearby.  A kind word or two, some warm food, and he would be good as new, 
but she saw a kindred type of searching in his eyes.  The sadness 
belonging to some soul jilted by one for another, of unforgiving and 
unmerciful fate, and of being alone.  Alone, was how they were.
	She pushed the plates, too tired to clean them.  Tomorrow morning, 
they would see suds, but tonight:  rest.

	Dinner was well underway at the Tendo dojo, and the mood was tense.  
Kasumi was cheerful but contained, and Nabiki was calculatedly distant.  
The four martial-artists-at-large were unspeaking, concentrated upon the 
food served, disinclined to start conversation lest Fate be tempted to 
deal the uppercut.  By some unspoken agreement, apparently, whoever would 
call forth the wrath of the Terrible One, would have to answer directly, 
i.e. be the one to go and capture the lecher.
	The affianced couple had other plans, beyond the cold war sizzling 
between their voluminous visual forces.  Nabiki smirked mildly, glancing 
upon the two, and mischievously opened the television set, much to the 
chagrin of the two dojo heads.
	She sat back as the business news prattled at how the latest opened 
Switch, Inc. had made an impressive debut, selling out all stocks within 
a record three days.  No one noticed, as the youngest Tendo chose to 
vacate the proximity of a certain pig-tailed pervert, which the referred 
to was delighted to oblige, the older two defenders sighing their 
gratitude over the lack of excitement, and with the eldest sister 
clearing the low-slung table.
	One of the well-known errors in human judgment is the ability of 
people to completely forget a danger situation that presented itself mere 
moments ago, mostly distracted by shiny things.  Although shiny things 
rarely have concerns with the matters of mice and cats, many have 
complemented the void left by this category of materials.  In the case of 
the friends, Tendo and Saotome, it was a board game called go.  The 
moment that they revealed the board to the world, the world chose to spit 
it back at them.
	Ranma was in the garden, near the pond, setting up a wooden post to 
send volleys of pain upon, he chilled slightly at the touch of old wood.
	"Son-in-law."
	Turning around, he saw what he expected to see whenever the jab of 
sharp wood would encounter his shoulder blades:  an old ghoul.  Not 
bothering to bend down to meet her bulbous eyes, he said, "it's you."
    	Looking up from her vantage point, she continued.  "Happy's been 
sighted, sonny boy.  Time to pack your bags."
	Immediately, both Soun and Genma appeared to provide the necessary 
equipment for the three of them.  Kasumi took the hint quickly and was 
waving a scarf goodbye, throwing cheery good luck at them.  Nabiki simply 
sojourned to her room for her own purposes.
	As they were getting pushed along, Ranma could only ask:  "Where 
are we going?"
	Cologne was hopping along on her walking stick as they turned into 
the road.  "Mt. Fuji, sonny.  Hope you brought a camera on you."
	From a window on the second floor, a worried bride-to-be prayed in 
silence for the safe return of her reluctant groom.

	Closing the door to her room, she caressed the light switch with 
her right hand.  After consideration, she went in without turning it on.  
She glided to her bed and slumped into it noiselessly.  For a few 
moments, there was no movement.
	She turned on her back and stared at the blackened ceiling in her 
blackened room.  Wide-eyed, she refocused her vision to within, 
neglecting the breeze wheedling its way through the half-closed window, 
taking in it the curtains.  She hadn't even noticed that the wind 
reversed itself, taking the self-same curtains with it out of the room, 
waving into the horizon.
	Nabiki smirked.  She'd been acting too strange today, even for 
herself.  She had thought that she could talk it through to herself, but 
it didn't help.  She had to admit that she was mightily confused.  Her 
heart was beating heavily in her chest as she thought about him.
	She wished that she had a set of stuffed toys or maybe even a 
little pig to hug.
	But there was so much trouble in the offing.  There was Ukyo, of 
course, and Akane.  There had to be a little something for him in her, 
despite the fact that she was 100% Ranma.  Why else would she put a 
bandanna of his on her little piggie?
	The night promised to be cold.
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another quality product of

Nikholas F. Toledo
niftol@i-manila.com.ph