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Chapter Three: Scissors and Quantum Physics

  For those who had known the two in the past, it would've been a familiar
sight: a redheaded maiden balancing on a bar, while a Chinese girl was
right on her heels.
  Welcome to the twenty-first century.  The second floor of the Oakland
Bayside Mall, on a fairly busy Sunday afternoon.  Ran-Chan walking on the
railing of said second deck, carrying enough shopping bags and boxes to
more than easily obstruct her view, mere millimeters from certain injury
and/or death.  Shampoo walking right behind her, on same rail, carrying
*double* the amount of boxes (Okay, so they went shopping before the
hairstylist.  It's not like Paolo was going to mind, or anything.  But hey,
Ran-Chan wasn't going to get *all* the fun, and besides, she saw this
*gorgeous* leather jacket that she *had* to have...), same distance from
certain doom.  The only additions to the traditional scene were the some
ten or so mall security personnel, walking on the floor, insisting for
their sake that would they please walk on the floor like normal people?
  "Jeez, they worry *way* too much around here," Ran-Chan turned her head
and commented to Shampoo.  "A girl can't concentrate with all that racket!"
  "Unfortunately, this happens every time I come here.  If it wasn't for my
hairstylist, I would probably never return; there's a better mall back on
the other side," Shampoo replied.  "But, I have to admit, it could be
better--we could have the town's most eligible bachelors following us,
shouting 'I love you, pigtailed girl.  I would date with you,'" she added,
a wry smile plastered on her face.
  "Very funny, Shampoo," the other girl muttered.  Then she reached into
her pocket, flashed her counterpart a picture of her and Ranma, and cooed,
"Kitty want a Japanese martial artist boytoy?" 
  "No, I'm past that--both the 'kitty' and the boytoy," she sighed, her
voice sounding not entirely convincing.  "If my hands weren't so full of
stuff, I'd pound you into the floor tile right about now."
  "Doubtful," Ran-Chan said, looking, into another storefront window.
"Hey, look at that!"
  "You're changing the subject."
  "Only to spare you the agony of defeat."
  "We'll have to match against each other.  You'd be surprised--"  Shampoo
suddenly stopped, both her comments and herself.  She remembered Akane's
letter, especially the part about Natsume's fate.  {If she's gotten that
out of control with her abilities, I could be in trouble.  I may be faster
and more agile, but she's stronger and she's mastered the use of her
ki--something I've never been able to.}
  Ran-Chan noticed the silence, turning around.  "Hey, you okay?"
    "Yeah," Shampoo said absently.  She looked around for an excuse, and
found herself lucky.  "Well, here we are."  She leapt down to the floor,
much to the relief of Mall Security.
  "Looks nice enough," Ran-Chan said.  She looked at the salon.  The store
facade was a simple rose marble, with a soft gray trim.  The inside window
was covered by a venetian blind, also colored rose, but the door was also
made of glass and from what she could tell, the interior color scheme was
the same.  The simple neon light at the top had a stylized scissors logo in
white, followed by pink cursive letters: A CUT ABOVE THE REST.
  "That's Paolo's idea of a joke, when he first opened this place,"
Shampoo explained.  "Not only is it a comment about being the best, but the
furniture store directly below on the first floor happens to be named 'The
Rest'.  C'mon, let's go in." She went inside, as Ran-Chan hopped down off
the rail and followed.
  Oakland Bayside Mall Security breathed a little easier.


  "Hey, Paolo!  Ni Hao!  Is there somewhere I can set our bags down?"
Shampoo called.
  From behind a wall, a guy peeked out.  "Es that you, my good friend Eshan
Fu?"  The gentleman walked towards them arms outstretched.  "Es been a
whole week since I last esee you."
  "'Shan Fu?'" Ran-Chan whispered out of the side of her mouth.
  "He hates using nicknames, since they tagged him with one when he first
arrived here from Portugal.  Also, then there's the fact of my
nickname...." she whispered back.  Then she hugged Paolo and said, "Yes, it
has.  You never come to the Cali Cat anymore."
  "Mea culpa; business has been much too much busy last week," he grinned.
"You come een for another of Paolo's especial hairstyles, no?"
  "Nope; but you can fix her up," Shampoo said as glanced at Ran-Chan.
Then she introduced the two.  "Ran-Chan, this is Porta'gee Paolo.  Whoops,
sorry," she quickly added, seeing his slightly annoyed expression.  "Paolo
Alejas, this is my best friend in the world, Ranko Saotome."
  "Yaponese, eh?"  Paolo grabbed and kissed her hand.  "Weeth blue eyes and
red hair, no less.  That's definitely esometing especial.  It is an honor
to meet you, Meess Ranko."  He appeared to have a smile grafted to his face.
  Ran-Chan flushed to nearly the color of her hair.  Like her brother, she
wasn't the romantic type; unlike him, however, she'd developed a keener
awareness of the other sex.  When push came to shove, however, most of her
"puberty" was a Memorex of his; thus, she didn't know even remotely how to
handle this.  She retracted her hand, and stammered, "I-it's very nice to
meet you, as well, Paolo."
  Still smiling, he responded, "I thank you, Meess Ranko.  Now, if you'll
come thees way...."
  Ran-Chan allowed herself to be led by the handsome--no, *gorgeous*--man
in front of her.  She looked at him, like she would any potential
opponent--he had to have some kind of workout regimen, and in her
experience, that usually meant the art of fighting.  He was thin, and has
about the same height, weight, and build as Mousse.  He appeared to be in
his early thirties, so he could be in the sensei stage.  He seemed to be
very carefree and easy, which meant a very loose discipline, like Ryokodan
aikido, the Saotome "Anything-Goes-Martial-Arts" variation of kenpo, the
Tendo AGMA variation of shotokan karate, or any of a million permutations
of the primary disciplines.  His black eyes would mostly hide his
intentions, but the way he gracefully moved didn't fool her.  He had short
black hair that faded to tan at his locks--was that natural or an
affectation?--an Errol Flynn-like beard (he must fancy himself a true
ladies' man), and dressed in a simple black polo, gray jeans, and black
loafers.  Could be an interesting match--not anything to worry about, but a
decent sparring partner, nonetheless.  She fleetingly also wondered if
she'd made an unconscious double entendre.
  Oh, and one more thing:
  {I wonder if he's single....}


  Shampoo chuckled from her seat.  {Hook, line, and sinker.  She's
captivated.}  She looked down at the magazines, and saw the same old, same
old: Cosmopolitan, Vanity Fair, and all the other "women's" mags.  Where
was the latest copy of Black Belt or Rolling Stone? Bored, she stood up.
"Hey, I'm going to run to the bookstore and then to The House of Coffee.
Anybody want anything?"
  "Herbal tea...and a copy of Inu-Yasha, if they carry manga,"  said Ran-Chan.
  "Eiced mocha for me, grazia."  Paolo immediately went back to his work.
  "Okay, I'll be back in ten."  Shampoo walked out the door, turned left,
and continued down the mall.

*   *   *

  "There's that wench,"  Jade pointed out from her perch on the third floor
of the mall.  She was there scouting out appropriate locations for a second
restaurant, in the hopes that it would boost her over the "Beijing Brat".
She pointed to her associate, a thin, nondescript person in a suit.  The
pair watched as she descended the escalator to the first floor.  "Take her
out.  I'm sick of dealing with her.  She should pose no problem."
  Jade's companion smiled.  The young Chinese girl that was pointed out
walked along, innocent and unawares.  This was too easy.  "Not worth the
effort.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to the florist to find some
new specimens for my Bonsai.  I hear they have a lovely rose bu--"
  "She's not as easy as you think.  She's a master of the Bushin and
Shaolin disciplines."
  He rolled his eyes.  {All I wanted to do is spend a quiet day working on
my indoor garden, and then I run into the boss.  Why does this always
happen to me?}  "Well, if she's so easy, as you said earlier,"  he
commented dryly, "why don't you take fight her?"
  "Because that's what I pay you for!"  she snapped, threatening to make a
scene.
  "No, you pay me for interior decorating,"  he amended.
  "WHOEVER HEARD OF AN *INTERIOR DESIGNER NINJA?!?!?!?!*" she screamed.  By
this time, people had begun to stare.
  The man in the suit initially ignored her, hoping others would follow his
example.  He then grumbled, "Listen.  The ninja business is not the same as
it was years ago.  We have to have other jobs.  That doesn't mean I'm not a
good ninja; I just have to earn a living, somehow."
  "Well," she stormed, "you're going to be an *unemployed* interior
decorating ninja, if you don't get down there."  She grabbed him.  "Now
move!"  She hurled him over the railing, towards the unsuspecting Shampoo
below.


   The "interior designer ninja" was as calm as the plains, as easygoing as
the lotus flower on a cool spring day, as peaceful as a soft waterfall in
the forest, as dashing as the sight of the Arizona deserts, as verbose as a
dictionary CD-ROM, as etc. etc. etc.  In short, to use his own words, he
was feeling quite well, thanks.  As he streaked past the second floor, he
simply turned his direction and spread his arms out to land easily just in
front of Shampoo, who had just gotten in line at the coffee shop.
   "Excuse me, miss," he said, as he tapped her on the shoulder, "but I was
sent to teach you a lesson.  If you could please step out of line, then I
can commence with thoroughly thrashing you, then I can get about my
business, which I may add, does include a complimentary trip to the nearest
available medical facility."


  Shampoo turned and blinked, eyes wide.  {Did he just say what I thought
he said?}  She looked at him.  "Could you repeat that again, please?"
  She looked at him, eyeing him in the event she heard him correctly.  He
looked to be in his mid-twenties, vaguely oriental, with gray hair and a
goatee--to her, it seemed, as if Paolo dyed his hair iron gray and had
facial surgery at the age of 25 or so.  Other than that, he looked very
stuffy and uptight, wearing a simple black suit and tie, and matching gray
shirt and scarf.  In late June.
Rrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhttttttttttt.
...
  "I said that I was sent here to teach you a lesson, miss."  With a
dramatic sweep of his arm, he pointed at her.  "Now, I realize that both
you and I have other things to accomplish, so, please, let's be quick about
this and step out of line so I can finish my task and beat you senseless.
I'd like to get back to my garden."
  "You have got to be kidding."  Shampoo stepped away from the line, as
others began to notice the commotion.  She moved to stand easily in front
of him and crossed her arms.  "I don't have time for this.  Just drop your
pretense and let's get to it."
  "My, you are rude.  I would have expected better from the famous Shan Fu
Lao--no, don't be shocked, I know who you are, obviously," he stated, as he
crossed his arms, and then put his hand to his chin, in a thoughtful pose.
"I am thoroughly unimpressed by your attitude.  I would hope your skill in
fighting is better than you manners."
  She'd had enough of this.  "You, sir, have me at an advantage.  You
obviously know who I am, but not the reverse."  She began to stretch,
cat-like, working out and readying herself for inevitable combat.  "Please
let me know who you are, so I can inform your next of kin."
  He grinned, a rictus not unlike Paolo's.   "Very well," he sighed.  "It
is only fair that I bestow upon you, fair maiden, the sobriquet of my name
before I summarily smite you for your impertinence.  I am the one who is as
calm as the plains.  I am the one who is as easygoing as the lotus on a
cool spring day, as peaceful as the soft waterfalls in the forests of
Germany, as dashing as the splendor of the Arizona deserts, as loquacious
as the legendary Bard of Avalon, as courageous as the Errant Samurai of
Kokazure.  I am the man the natures of the world honor, and the same that
artifice abhors.  I am the master of the psychic forces and the aggressor
of dark combat.  I am...."
  Shampoo continued to stretch while he chattered on.  Some people in the
crowd began to yawn, others asleep.
  Still, the young man continued his epic address:  "I am the scribe of the
fighter's history, and the lord of the arts of conflict.  I am the scion of
the flaming stars, and the heir to the powers of the dancing moon.  I am
the one whose power dwarfs all of my opponents, but I am merciful and
forgiving.  I am..."
  The minutes ticked on.
  "I am the staunchest foe to that which must be opposed, and the bane of
all who would dare to stand in the way of my goal.  I am the one whose
abilities transcend that of mastery, but humble enough to continue his
search for true martial righteousness.  I am the one who is as calm as the
plai--"
  Shampoo, still doing a mini-workout out for the past fifteen minutes,
said, "I believe you've already said that."
  "Thank you.  I hate to repeat myself."  He repeated his mantra silently
while he ticked off each remark with his fingers.  "Oh, yes--I am the
master of all things beautiful and wise.  I am the powerful combat master
of the ages."  He raised his right arm towards the air, scarf in hand, and
the whole thing became enveloped in a shimmering rainbow aura.  "I am the
interior designer ninja extraordinaire."  His eyes flashed.  "Yujiiro
Kaguro, of clan Kaguro."  He bowed.
  Shampoo glanced at her watch.  A shade over half an hour.  {That's as
good as I ever saw Tatewaki or Kodachi Kuno do.}  "Well," she sighed, as
she shrugged her shoulders to work out the kinks, "now that you're done,
shall we commence?"  She bowed, then rapidly dropped into an offensive stance.
  "Yes.  Let's."  He did the same.
  The crowd, awakened by the silence, formed a ring around the two combatants.

*   *   * 

  Maria was completely confused...again, much to Tyler's amusement.  She'd
called him, to ask if he could give her a ride to Shampoo's, since her car
was at the shop.  Since he lived about two blocks away, she offered him an
afternoon of home-cooked lunch and movies until it was time to go.  Since
he'd never been over her place before, and there was also the fact that he
still lived at home, and wanted to get out of the house....  Well, in any
event, he had no problem visiting a friend.    Okay, so she was a couple
speakers short of a full stereo, but she was still a good friend.
  Then he came over her apartment for the first time.  And found out that,
as Shamps once joked, "The stars in her eyes are simply the effect of the
light that shines through the hole in the back of her head."
  The first clue when he knocked on her door.  There, right next to the
handle was a small brass plaque detailing full operational procedures for
the lock and doorknob.  He heard Maria shout "Coming!"  Then for about five
minutes, all he heard were a few grunts and groans, followed by a scream of
"I'm going to get this damn door open if it's the last thing I do!"
Sighing, he simply tuned the knob, pushed the door open and walked in....
....then had to immediately sidestep as Maria threw a rapid punch attack
towards the door.   As she lunged past him, she said, "I'll be right back!"
 Fortunately, a wall--just about ten feet from her door, and very pocked,
patched, dented... and probably held together by the paint--stopped her.
In doing so, the force of her attack easily drilled through the wall, and
her hands swiss-cheesed the wall further.  Unfortunately for her, she was
stopped by the wall, the rest of her easily connecting with the wall.  She
stepped back, teetered in dizziness for a second, and fell towards the
ground.  Fortunately, Tyler caught her in time.
  "You okay?" he asked.
  "ReAdY fOr My BiG sCeNe WiTh BrAd PiTt, Mr. DiReCtOr...." she said, stars
a-fluttering around her.  Then she seemed to snap out of it.  "One of these
days, I'll master the door.  I'm just sure of it."
  "Why don't you just order a plaque for it?"
  "Already did.  The hardware store said it should be ready by Thursday."
  "Oh."  He stepped inside, and looked around.  Instantly, his jaw dropped.
 {Hoo boy; this just defies reality.}  Tons of little plaques all over the
place, detailing such matters of import, from "How To Turn On The
Entertainment System"  to "Directions For Inserting the CD-ROM into the
Sega" to "How to Change the Batteries in the Remote Control," and
everything in between.
  Maria waved her hand dismissively, saying in an authoritative voice,
"Yes, I realize how many there are.  Actually, I consider it an
accomplishment.  There used to be twice as many of them, but through a
little hard work and perseverance, I no longer need as many as I originally
had up."
  Tyler stopped counting somewhere around 632; he was going to get a
headache if he kept this up.  "Mind if I sit down, Maria?" he asked, hoping
to change the subject before he accidentally burned out one of her few
remaining brain cells.
  "Please, be my guest."  She wandered off to the kitchen.  "Would you like
something to drink?  Oh, yeah--the pizza will be ready in five minutes."
  "Mineral water, if you have it."  The scent of the food wafted over to
him, and made his mouth water.  "Pizza?"
  "Yeah,"  she said, smiling.  "Thai chicken.  It's a new recipe I came up
with for the Cafe.  I hope you like it."  She wandered back to the couch
and passed him the water.  "Well, what would you like to watch?  I'm in the
mood for whatever."  she said sweetly.
  He wandered over to her video collection, and grabbed a movie he hadn't
seen.  He held it up towards her.  "How's this one?" he inquired.
  "'Mermaid Forest?'  I'm afraid I don't know.  I can't get it into the VCR."
  "Have you tried this?"  He took the videotape out of the box, put it in
the VCR.  The movie started shortly thereafter.
  "Thanks!"  she chirped.  Quickly grabbing a pen and paper, she started
writing.  Under her breath, Tyler heard her mutter, "Gonna have to order
that plaque...."
He rolled his eyes, trying not to laugh or groan in frustration, when he
noted a framed document on the wall.  He paused the movie, and looked at
it.  "This yours?"
  "Yeah," she blushed.  "I consider it one of my greatest accomplishments."
  {Yeah, I would, too.}  He was actually stunned to discover that she had
an actual university degree, especially since he was expecting it to be a
Certificate of Official Brain Death.
  "The funny thing was is that it was too easy; I understood the course
material without even having to study--everyone said I was a natural.  At
my graduation, the professors--I think they were joking--said that they
were glad to see me go, that they were afraid I was going to stay forever."
  "Well, let me ask you this:  why are you working as a waitress/chef at a
restaurant if you hold a doctorate in physics, with a specialty in
theoretical mathematics and quantum physics?"
  She looked at him intensely.  "You mean *that's* what I was studying?"
She put her finger on her chin, and looked up, furrowing her brow in
thought.  "*Oh!*  So *that's* why there were never any cooking classes!"
  Tyler thought to himself,  {This is going to be a long day.}


  One Thai chicken pizza and two 'Mermaid' movies later,  Maria introduced
Tyler to her pet pit bull, Skittish.  Maria was feeding her the dog in the
kitchen, when Tyler came in to swipe another bottled water.  He initially
dropped into a fighting stance, but Maria calmed him.  "Stop that.  You'll
scare her."
  Skittish, he found out, was as friendly and intelligent (not exactly a
good sign) as her master.  Skittish also had the dysfunctional talent of
being afraid of just about everything.  After taking off at full speed,
yipping, and hiding behind the table, refusing to come out until Maria
coaxed her out with a bit of leftover chicken from the pizza.  The gray
monster (this dog, being a pit bull, was HUGE) scampered up to her, gently
took the meat from Maria's hand, and sat down on its haunches, looking like
the world's friendliest beagle.  She went up to and hugged the dog. 
  "Good girl."  Maria turned to her guest and said, "Go ahead and pet her
if you'd like.  She won't bite."  He didn't, but relaxed nonetheless.  He
did smile as the dog began to do tricks as Maria continued to shovel
massive amounts of chicken towards the dog.
  He was about to say something, when the phone rang.  Maria was busy
feeding her over-friendly shark, so he answered the phone, instead.  "Lopez
residence."
  "Yeah, this is Golden Gate Auto Repair.  Is there a Maria Lopez available?"
  "She's unavailable at the moment.  Is there something I can help you with?"
  "Yes.  Her car's ready for pick up."  There was a pause.  "Excuse me; I
don't mean to be rude, but does she actually know what to do with a car?"
  Not sure how to respond, Tyler replied, "I'm sure she does.  What was the
problem?"
  "We had to replace the tank, and the majority of the engine core.  I'm
surprised that the car didn't blow up.  The worst part about it is that
this car is new; it still has the temporary stickers on the windshield."
The guy on the other end sounded incredulous.  "The combustion systems were
totally destroyed.  If I were you, I'd talk to your wife on that.  Next
time she does what she did, she could be in a lot of trouble."
  Tyler was so puzzled, he didn't think to correct to correct him.  "Don't
worry, I will.  We'll be there in a couple of hours to pick up the car."
  "We'll be expecting you then.  Have a nice day."  Tyler hung up the
phone.  He walked back into the kitchen, and was caught by another
surprise:  Maria was rocking the dog in her arms, singing it to sleep with
Mexican lullabies.
  Not wanting to know exactly what the hell was going on, he got an answer,
anyway.  "I've been doing this for her since she was a pup,"  Maria
explained.  "Okay, she's a little old for this, but Skittish still tends to
be afraid of things in her sleep, so, well, y' know."  She put the dog down
in the baby (?) bassinet by the door.  "So who was that on the phone?"
  Tyler, to his credit, said nothing.  He'd known Maria for a while; one
more oddity for her was nothing new.  "The auto shop; they said that your
car was ready."  He gave her a brief description of the phone conversation.
 "So what exactly did you do to your car?"
  "I don't know," she admitted.  She shook her head.  "I just started to
clank and sputter real funny after I filled it with gas."  She looked at
him quizzically, then added, "It's a new car; just bought it last week.
Could they have sold me a lemon?"
  {The combustion system was totaled,} the guy said.  Tyler was taken
aback; his cousin was an auto mechanic in Sacramento, so he knew a little
about cars. Then he remembered whom he was dealing with.  "Okay, you ran
out of gas.  No big deal.  So you didn't notice any problems after you left
the gas station?"
  "Uh, what's a gas station?"
  He began to shake his head in disbelief. "What do you mean 'What's a gas
station?'"
  "Well, after the car ran out of gas, I wasn't sure where to fill it up
again.  So, I--"
  "Don't you know what those places that say, 'UNOCAL', 'Chevron', and
'Shell' are?"  {I don't believe this.}
  "No; aren't they like 7-11 or something?"  She waved it off, much to his
shock, and continued.  "So, anyway, I went to see an old friend of mine at
the Chem Lab at Stanford.  Managed to easily get some gasses from him."
  "What did you put in the car?"  He looked at her like she'd just won the
not-even-remotely-coveted "Most Stupid Person in Creation" award.
  "The best gas for combustion, of course; I thought you'd know that," she
proclaimed, with an air of authority.  "A full tank of pure oxy--"
  "--gen," he finished for her.  "Hate to be the one to point this out, but
'gas' is short for 'gasoline.'  Oh, Maria, Maria, how on Earth have you
managed to survive through life this long with so little brain cells?"  he
asked, completely stupefied.  Tyler just simply couldn't believe it.  This
just defied all the odds.  *Nobody* could be that stupid.  Except for
Maria.  {Maybe God does protect the brain damaged,} he mused.
  Not totally getting the gist of his unintended insult, she began to jot
the new fact down onto her pad.  "Guess I'll have to order a plaque for the
car," she said, a bit sheepishly.
    Tyler smiled, despite it all.  Completely, absolutely stupid or not,
she was still a friend.  "I'll order it for you, myself."  He pulled his
car keys.  "C'mon.  Let's go get your car.  More importantly, on the way
there, I'll show you how to fill up the tank the right way."

*   *   *
    
  The man in the suit--{Kaguro, I think,} Shampoo temporized--placed his
hands together, like he was praying...or about to throw a ki blast.  The
answer came a second later, as he snapped his scarf towards her like a
sling.  An iridescent pair of beams, intertwined like strands of DNA, came
hurtling at her.  She took the time to sit there, as the tandem beams came
within microseconds of impact.
  The beam slammed into the space where Shampoo stood, leaving a crater in
the ground.  Tile and concrete sprayed everywhere, completely demolishing
the site.
  Not Shampoo, however.  At the last, she leapt over the beam and towards
the offending party, did a tight mid-air roll, and coming out of the roll
mere inches from him, threw a series of rapid punches on the way down.  Her
"Cat Scratch Fever" attack was not at the speed of the Saotome "Chestnut"
attacks, but it was effective enough.  Kaguro was thrown back by the
ferocity of her attack, slamming into a trash can and sliding for about ten
feet.
  He leapt to his feet easily, enough, and wiped a rivulet of blood from a
small cut on his forehead.  "So you *do* know how to fight," he gasped.
"No one has ever before bested my Ribbon Knife."
  "There's always the first time."  Shampoo looked at him with contempt.
"Now that you're toast, I have other things to do.  Hasta la vista."  She
turned to walk away.
  "Ah, but my lady, we are not yet done!"  He punched the floor with his
hand swathed in the scarf, which was swirling around his arm like an
impressionist galaxy.    Upon impact, the ki discharged into the floor, and
something underground buckled the floor tiling as it raced towards the
Chinese Amazon.  There was silence for a second, followed by an explosion
of light as a huge column of energy erupted under Shampoo's feet, sending
her airborne.  She had the prescience of mind to grab the second floor
railing as she was vaulted that high, but in doing so was slammed hard into
the side of the walkway.  The Pulse Disruption went up past the remaining
two floors and stopped short of the ceiling, but shredded a couple of mall
banners.
  Shampoo let go of the rail and landed nimbly, the torn remnants of the
banners falling around her like a spray of confetti.  Upon her landing,
however, a sliver of pain raced up her spine.  {Owww...that hurt.  He has
range, but that seems to be all.  Nonetheless, I've gotta stop this, or
someone's gonna get hurt.}  She snarled, "You want to fight, huh?  You
asked for it!"  She raced towards him, fists clenched in determination.
  He appeared ready.  A few feet from connection, he threw a punch at her.
The scarf spun around his hand again, only this time like a drill bit,
aimed for her head.  He breathed, "And now, miss, the game ends."
  Shampoo, however, was expecting it.  At the last moment, she ducked under
his drill punch, and thrust an elbow shot whose impact staggered him back.
Still having momentum, she spun and nailed him squarely with a slice kick
that sent him flying towards a wooden "THIS SPACE OPEN SOON!" sign,
shattering it, the metal security screen, and the hidden store facade
behind it.
  She didn't turn around this time.  She raced towards her opponent, barely
visible in the dark of the unlit space.


  Kaguro didn't get up nearly as quick the second time.  He felt bumps and
bruises that he hadn't felt in quite a while.  His vision tunneled in and
out for a second, and as it cleared, he saw the Chinese Amazon racing
towards him, readying for another strike.
  He chuckled inwardly, as his blood sang.  He had never met anyone of her
caliber before, save perhaps his employer.  Plus, his employer wasn't as
serenely beautiful as the individual he was currently in combat with.  Yes,
he decided,  she would make an excellent mate.  He could easily see her
serving his every need and whim, and he would show her what it meant to
have a  man to tame her wild nature.  Yes, he could easily be wed to Miss
Shan Fu Lao.
  This by no means meant that he would allow her to win.  He would be
victorious, and she would see that it was the right of the man to be
victorious.  She would offer herself to him upon the inevitable.  He felt
bad for a second, because this meant he would have to resort to using his
Special attack, for which she stood no chance.  But the sooner he defeated
her, the sooner she would welcome him into her arms...and her bed.
  {C'est la vie,} he decided.  {Love sometimes must hurt.}
     
    
  Shampoo neared her opponent, readying to make the final blow.  She'd
already decided that he was so useless at close range, it would be a waste
of energy to throw any further advanced moves at him.  However, she was
well within range of his scarf attacks, so she'd best be careful.
  For the first time in a while, she wished she had her trusty bonbori with
her.  Over the past six years since she mastered Bushin by studying with
Paolo, she'd merged her old Shaolin art with the newer, faster skills.
Since then, she'd found the bonbori cumbersome and not too compatible with
her new moves.  So, she consigned it to a place of honor in the mini dojo
that was in the backyard.  Today, though, she could've used it--the range
would've helped out against the Kuno wannabe.
  She was going to make this guy remember that it wasn't nice to pick on
girls with blackbelts.  {I've gotta get back to Ranko, too!}  She snickered
mentally.  {She'd probably be in heaven, were she in my shoes now.  I'd
have to pity poor Kaggie, here.  He wouldn't stand a chance.}    
  She was within striking distance.  She cocked her arm back, and got ready
to throw.  He wouldn't know what hit him.

  She swung.

  He made a hand motion, as if he were lightly tossing something.

  Suddenly, she saw the air around him blur, as her hand went right through
his face (?).  She was caught so off guard by the ninja's illusion, she
didn't see him throw an uppercut, with his scarf at the apex.
  There was an explosion of light, and pain.  Shampoo was tossed back,
energy coalescing around her like flames.  She heard a ripping noise, but
couldn't tell what it was.  She was blinded for a second, feeling nothing.
The second thing she felt was her slamming into something hard and solid.
Still dazed, she stood up and suddenly she heard a sound, and the next
thing she felt was--

    
  His Illusion Dance had worked.  He hated to do it, but he threw his Blast
Uppercut with all his strength, hurling his intended back in a ball of
ki-powered flame.  Before she landed, though, he went into his Special
attack.  He powered up his innermost well of ki, and released it.  There
was a burst of rainbow light, and from the air around him, six tendrils of
energy burst from the air around him and wrapped around her.
  The Boa Tendril Crush.  His second most powerful attack; his strongest
was only for true combat, not this loveplay.  There was no way she could
defeat it.


  --her sides being bound.  As her vision cleared, she noticed she was
being dragged slowly towards him by several glowing strands of energy.  He
was cheerful, jubilant.  As she stood up, and attempted to hold her ground,
mere feet from her, he spoke to her in soothing tones.  "It was a good
effort, my sweet.  But you've lost, it was inevitable.  Now come to me."
  "Let go of me!" she hissed, a feline cry of rage.
  Kaguro pulled her face to his.  "Don't worry, my pet.  I will becalm you
shortly."  With that, he kissed her.
  BIG mistake.


  "THAT DOES IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  She screamed, in Cantonese.
 "THE GLOVES ARE OFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  Her face flushed, and not from sudden
attraction.  She was in a mood to injure, being pushed too far for his own
good. In that span of a second, the easygoing American woman regressed to
the violent Chinese teen.  She was not going to let him get away with it.
Additionally, he made the one mistake he shouldn't have.


  Kaguro leaned in for another kiss.  She was flushed, probably smitten
with desire.  She was his.  One thought came to mind--what had she
screamed?  Probably something along the lines of "Take me; I'm yours," he
reasoned.


  Just when he least expected it, she rolled, leapt, and kicked.  Her
Thrust Kick carried enough momentum to make them both clear the ground.
That, she could've cared less about.  What she did want, fortunately, also
happened:  the force of her foot connecting with his head broke his
concentration.  The tendrils disappeared.
  She went clear enough of him, to charge her own ki--not strong enough to
throw projectiles, but certainly able to power her--
  "*Special attack, revised!  Rising Assault!*"  There was a spectacular
outward pulse of crimson energy, and as the two neared the zenith from the
Thrust Kick, she began her Rising Assault, a Bushin-based Special attack.
In the space of two seconds, a shadow-blurred Shampoo threw four palm
strikes, two facial punches, a short kick to the solar plexus, and ended
the combo doing a second Thrust Kick around the third floor that sent him
above the fourth floor--did he accidentally hit that green-haired girl
watching the fight from above?  Sorry--and through the ceiling Plexiglas,
launched on a course for the deep Pacific.


  She landed, victorious.  Victory, however, was not without a price.  As
she landed to the initial applause of the crowd--mostly guys, go
figure--she bowed deep to the crowd.  Then she saw them.  Her ballcap,
completely ruined by the earlier blast...
  ...and the remnants of her shirt.  Which, she suddenly realized, she was
no longer wearing.
  Add to that the fact that she never wore a bra with her T-shirts.
Shampoo, however, was not the shy type, so she "bounced" on over to the
House of Coffee.
  "C-c-can I help you?" the teenage clerk at the counter squeaked.  He was
completely flustered.  Poor Guy.  This could be really fun.
  She leaned over the counter, seductively, and gave him her most alluring
glance, the one she usually used only to drive her beau nuts.  "Yes.  You
can."  She turned over so slightly, for maximum effect.  "I'd like an iced
cappo, an herbal tea, and an iced mocha.  To go." She tossed her head,
glanced to his right, and added,  "Oh, and one of your embroidered polo
shirts.  Small, in purple."
  The guy nearly lost it completing her order.  Meanwhile, the shirt was
given to her by the guy's co-worker, a rather plain girl in her mid-teens,
who stared at Shampoo with a gaze of unspeakable envy.  Shampoo made a show
of putting her new shirt on, a sort of striptease in reverse, which
flustered the guy even worse.
  Just as she finished fixing her hair, her order was complete.  "It's, uh,
it's, uh, on your chest--I mean, on the house,"  he stammered.  
  Thank you," she breathed.  "That's *very* sweet...of...you."  She leaned
over and just barely brushed his lips with hers.  He swooned.  His
co-worker--apparently his girlfriend, Shampoo realized--promptly decked
him, and looked at her, a killing mood burned in her eyes.  {Time to go;
I've met my quota of fights for the day.}
  Turning, she looked at the person behind her, an older woman in her
mid-forties.  Shampoo rolled her eyes, and huffed, "Men."  The woman gave
her a knowing wink.  Then Shampoo grabbed the drink caddie and regally
strolled out the door.

*   *   *

  Jade got up, rather shakily, and noticed the hole in the skylight that
Kaguro's abrupt exit had caused.  Not only had he been defeated by that
tramp, he'd knocked her over on the way out, hitting her squarely in the
face.  She would have to dock him a week's pay for ruining her makeup.  She
laughed to herself.  At least one good thing would come out of this:  the
little whore's reputation would be ruined by her "revealing" antics.
  {Well, I can't be found looking bad if the Examiner suddenly decides to
take a picture of the Number One Chinese Restaurant Owner.  Best fix my
face.}  She pulled her pocket mirror from her purse, and peered into it.
  A green-haired Sino-American woman with a black eye was staring right back.
  Half the mall thundered with the echoes of her temper tantrum.

*   *   *

  "Eshan Fu, my friend!  We have been waiting for you!"  Paolo said, the
minute she walked in the door.  "As you can esee, our friend Ranko here ees
ready to meet the world."
  Shampoo looked at Ran-Chan.  "Wow.  I hardly recognize you, girl."
  "Thanks.  I wanted something similar to when 'we' were on Tomba's island,
but Paolo suggested this, instead.  He said I could look elegant this way
and not have to dress up as much as I did that time."  She grabbed her tea
and passed Paolo his drink.  "By the way, what took you so long?  I see
you're wearing a new shirt."
  "Didn't mean to take that long, but kinda got tied up," Shampoo said as
she took a sip from her cup.

*   *   *

  The hours passed, and nighttime found the gang setting up, cooking on the
grill, sitting on the porch in the Japanese-style backyard (which Shampoo
had modeled based on an amalgam of her home in China and the Tendo-Saotome
household).  The full moon lit the backyard, giving it a sparkling look,
and reflecting on the mirror surface of the koi pond.   The sky was clear,
and moonlight softly radiated all throughout the skyline of a beautiful San
Francisco night.  The splendor, however, was mostly lost on the others, as
they were all pretty interested in other matters, namely one Ranko Saotome.
  No one had met Shampoo's new roommate, save Mousse, who had yet to see
her new look.
  Gil took a sip of his wine cooler, and checked the teriyaki burgers.
"So," he asked the others, "what have you heard about this girl?"  He
glanced at Mousse.  "Unless you plan to fill us in."
  Mousse laughed.  "Gil, buddy, I wouldn't dream of it."  He ran his finger
across his neck, and said, "Shampoo'd kill me if I countered one of her
tricks.  Besides, she just got a makeover today, and I don't even know what
she looks like, currently."
  "Well," Tyler offered, "she has a boyish voice, yet somewhat gentle.  She
speaks English fairly well, but still has a bit of an accent."
  "I thought she yelled too much on the phone,"  Maria grumbled.
  "Maria, you were hung over,"  Gil said.  "You had the phone on full
volume.  I could hear it through the office door."
  "Oh.  Oopsie."  She shrugged her shoulders.
  "Hey, can I get your attention?"  Shampoo called from the door.  "The
moment you've all been waiting for."  She strolled out, and made a show of
it.  "Taa-daa!  Gil, Maria, Tyler, and Mousse, may I present my best friend
in the world, Saotome Ranko-san.  Ran-Chan, this is Gilbert Martinez, Maria
Lopez, and Tyler Edwards," she said, as she pointed to each of them.  
  They watched the darkened doorway.  At the edge of the door, there was
the slightest flash of red hair.  Then it disappeared into the house, a
sign of trepidation from a girl usually unaccustomed to shyness.  
  "C'mon, don't be shy,"  Shampoo said, resting her head on Mousse's arm.
"I've never known you to back down from anything."
  "Okay, okay, I'm coming," a voice said from the darkness.  A second
later, Ranko Saotome, master martial artist and budding journalist
extraordinaire, only daughter of Nodoka and Genma Saotome and younger
sister of Ranma, stepped out to begin her new life.

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