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* Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction * Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction * Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction *
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Switch: Herbs and Spices (Part 09 of 12) by Nikholas "Switch" F. Toledo
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Please do remember that Ranma 1/2 is a trademark and a copyright of and
by some big name people and companies I am not even worthy to introduce.
Anybody who says that I took any of their stuff better not find me
hiding. Also, great thanks to whoever reads this and likes it, good
thanks to whoever reads it anyhow, and teeny-weeny thanks to whoever else
even saw this. The seeds of the righteous... never mind. It's Day 3.
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4X4 FWD/RWD
I think I've lost her.
For once, the unfamiliar (some might even say sfumatically,
chiaroscurically, antigothically terrifying, though most people won't)
surroundings did not distress him. To anyone who wasn't Ryoga Hibiki
(even when he wasn't in his own skin, as he was now), that might have
sounded at least comforting. However, the mind of the heir to the Hibiki
School of Martial-Arts... RRrr... Ggg... well, Martial Arts, had only
three states of increasing status: Confusion (also, the common state),
Love-Affection-Protection-Devotion-Obedience-Gallantry (a whole mass of
honorable, altruistic motives) and Distress (a higher plane of confusion
- but one where the senses still function).
Since the environs surrounding him seemed disinclined to breed
familiarity, it meant only one thing: there was a higher distress that
bothered him.
"Where am I now?" he said weakly, mostly out of habit. Of course,
it came out as "bu-bu-bw-buuweee..."
Finally exhausted beyond belief by panicked running and more than
one day's lack of sustenance, P-chan collapsed onto the closest nook
Nature gave him.
In an almost perfectly rectangular district of Tokyo, popular to
many tourists, aliens and all-around weirdoes...
"Sweeto!" Happosai shouted, drowned slightly by the weak rain.
This time, he will prevail. This time, he would conquer all barriers,
and cheat fate. This time, *BONK!*
It was quiet because it was almost three in the morning. It was
also quiet because Happosai had just slammed face-first into a skewed
lamppost. It was exactly the time of day when even perverts weren't
around doing their jobs, or, when they do, God gave them coffee breaks.
Needless to say, the town healed.
It was in these hours when those who were indeed awake (while
fighting unimaginable forces to run amok stealing underwear of the
opposite gender [if possible], to make a public nuisance of one's self,
or transmogrify the entire populace into females) thought of the
prospects of leaving said district for the nearest, but safest, asylum.
Ponder that in the three minutes and forty-nine seconds of bliss.
The darkness receded like a wary predator, or a cautious lover,
eyeing her from a metered distance. The cold hung heavy, burdened with
mildew and sobriety; an even colder wind cut through, biting deep into
her shoulders and the small of her back, jostling the serene drop of her
tresses.
Ukyo opened her eyes.
The ceiling hung there without the apparent support that she knew
was there. The curtains skirted downward, losing the wind's life.
Outside the window, the lamp flickered slightly in the soft tinkling of
the dew-like rain.
Through acute perceptions, the room seemed to hum with a low
murmur. From the window, to the closet, to the door, finally, to the far
corner... nothing.
She waited in the dark, listening to her even, imperceptible
breathing:
in,
out,
and in,
and out,
marking half-seconds with accuracy.
Satisfied, she sighed.
She turned onto her other side, stretching some kinks that the soft
mattress of her bed settled into her. Wrapping her arms onto her chest,
she coaxed the warmth of her pillow into her bodice.
Outside the window, the rain began to thin, silent and undeniably
cold.
Ukyo frowned slightly, and hiked the blanket over her shoulder,
covering the goose bumps on her bare legs. She rubbed her knees
slightly, and held her pillow tighter.
Something squeaked.
Moments more, she had assured herself that, yes, the warm, soft
gusts in her cleavage were, in fact, breaths.
With deliberation, she extracted the intruder.
"... A FRIENDLY KISS?!?"
Grabbing Ranma's pigtail while bending forward fully, Akane threw
her unprepared fianc� halfway past the gaping window, and into the ebbing
rain.
I always was a softie for dumb animals, she thought, considering
the sight of Ryoga in his li'l piggie body (nuzzling her breasts, no
doubt!) and why it wasn't sending her hackles to high heaven. I couldn't
even cook him. A fuzzy yet evil grin traveled to her mouth languidly:
that doesn't mean I'm above kicking him around...
The ninja girl sat up, crossing her legs under the sheets, in no
hurry to grab the spatula just lying flat on the floor to send the petite
porker into some medium-to-high level Earth orbit. She held the piglet
by the forelegs, immediately warning her to a sudden realization: take
away the bandanna, Ryoga was naked.
Well, at least *you* aren't, a voice in her head said.
Having noted that, she made a sincere effort to restrict her
perusal of the inexplicably adorable incarnation of the fanged and
usually noisy lost boy to above the bandanna.
He sagged into himself, snoring.
Nodoka Saotome fell asleep, tears in her eyes, blood on her hands.
She felt silly waiting for something to suddenly happen, so she
wiggled him around a bit.
He slept soundly.
She wiggled him around a little more. Then she walked him a
little, like a puppet. "I am Pigzilla, and I will crush Tokyo into PIG
SLOP! HEAR - ME - SQUEAL!!"
His snoring popped with a snort.
She stopped.
Gosunkugi woke up.
"Happens every time," he muttered. He yawned. "Say, that was
pretty good. I must have slept like a..." He yawned again, rubbing his
hand against his chest. "Yup, that was..." *goosh*.
Gosunkugi opened his shirt, and fainted.
His head lolled from one side to the other.
She giggled. After a self-conscious tic, she set him down in front
of her, and leaned her hands on her knees.
She didn't want to goo-goo eyed over the pigl... it was Ryoga,
dammit! She was supposed to be angry with him.
[Was it him she was angry at?]
He snuggled up to her in bed twice already.
[He kept her company through the last two nights.]
He ran out on her.
[... and got lost (got lost) in the bath.]
He... he shouted at her!
[And she shouted at him.]
He... he's so frustrating!
[He ran his fingers through her hair.]
He confused her. And, yet, she acted with complete confidence.
[His solid eyes wavered, and she thought she saw his sadness.]
He couldn't find his way out of his clothes if he didn't shrink
after every bath - he had been in more places, done more things than she
ever did.
[Was he afraid? He was one of the most thickheaded people she
knew.]
Wandering aimlessly, unsure of the future, uncaring of the past. A
discontinuous existence. Here today, gone tomorrow.
[Would he lose another friend?]
P-chan snored blissfully. She snorted, slightly piqued by the last
of revelation.
She picked up the cursed boy and tickled his chin lightly.
"Hey! Whoa. S-stop..."
Tsubasa, body slick with mixed and mingled sticky fluids, slumped
to the floor, his first break for the span of the night. "God, that was
so tiring. And I thought jamming in a band was... invigorating."
Kodachi lay beside him, her arm across his chest, swirling in and
adding to the lubrication there. "Don't hyperventilate, dear. You must
take slow, steady breaths..."
Tsubasa exerted, complying to Kodachi's command. He tentatively
put his arm around her, making sure to avoid the ponytail. "You were
great."
Kodachi blushed, turning her head slightly skewly. "Really...?"
She smiled shyly, lighting her face in a cherubic manner. "But... it..."
"First time?" Tsubasa filled in, amazed. "I couldn't tell."
"Was... was I good?"
"You were great!" Tsubasa repeated, and kissed her forehead.
"I... I always wanted... to do something like this... but I never
imagined... all that dipping... and pulling out... hands all over my
body... and all that rolling about..."
"I got that from my father."
"You... you saw... your father...?"
Tsubasa hid a little smile. "He had this room, see? Once in a
while, he'd bring some... friends over. They'd spend the whole night,
just... doing this."
"They would...?" Kodachi grinned, a glint in her eye. "There ARE
still about three hours until sunrise..."
Tsubasa moaned. "You can't be serious. We must have done it...
five... ten... twenty... I can't count..."
"Thirty-seven times."
"Once for every room," Tsubasa recalled.
"Except for one, that is..."
"Oh. No."
"Am I dead?"
This brief metaphysical insight was brought on by the fact that
Ryoga couldn't feel a thing. It was like one of those out of body
experiences... except that, in your run-of-the-mill OBE, you'd probably
end up looking at yourself and screaming your head off to wake up, and
then there'd be this light and the angels would come and take you by the
hand and... well, it wasn't like that at all.
He sort of lost his body.
In any case, it didn't seem like any other dream that he had had
before. For one, he was flying.
Ryoga didn't need to fly to get anywhere he wanted to go. He
didn't need to do anything but walk to get to anywhere he ended up in,
anyway. Truth was, he had enough trouble not getting lost when he had
two feet on the ground - how much harder would it be if he had none?
Secondly, he was buck-naked.
This was not a new sensation. Almost half the time since... that
tragic day, he walked around naked. (Not to mention that he was usually
in the company of his most beloved Akane that half... even slept in her
bed with her naked...!) Not to... well, show off or-or nothing, he did
his best to get out of... nasty situations.
What he was was floating... hanging with his arms spanned,
completely naked, flying through the void. In the horizon, sharp metal
spires shone under a pockmarked, weathered moon. The stars did not
twinkle, a decidedly unfriendly thing for them to do.
He started swooping down and up, motions that would have made him
throw up, had he anything to throw up: he just make screaming motions,
but he had no mouth. He spiraled upward, head on with the ever-growing
moon.
It was an okonomiyaki moon... the sauce dribbled down, into the
ocean, ridiculously large chunks of shrimp and green vegetables floating
with just 10% above the surface. The stars did not shrink, no... in
fact, they grew, and he saw that they weren't stars at all... they were
spatulas, streaking forward with throwing speed.
The batter stayed there, like pie on the face of the sky and a face
drawn in okonomiyaki sauce laughed at him. Giggled.
He smacked right into it, head first.
In the Tendo anything-goes dojo grounds, one figure stumbled to
wakefulness. In the interests of those within the house, he (along with
two others not present, despite his checking in their room) had already
promised to not go about bashing heads in before sunrise. He took his
bath, suited up, and left for the dojo proper in a matter of half an
hour.
Today, Soun stepped along the walkway to the dojo.
A deep, deliriously throaty moan echoed from within the training
hall.
To anyone at about four in the morning, and especially to the
sometimes chicken father of the Tendo clan, a deliriously throaty moan
coming from the innards of your own dojo would have probably meant only
one thing:
"Ka-Ka-Kaaaasuummmii..." He ran back as fast as his legs could
take him.
P-chan kicked furiously at the air.
Ukyo smiled broadly, thinking that Ryoga was reacting to her
ministrations, so she redoubled her efforts.
The efforts seemed to have their effect: in addition to the
spasmodic leg actions, he opened his mouth, as though to laugh. She had
a look at the touted incisors; she had to admit, she hadn't seen any
better than those.
That was when he started making dry choking sounds.
Kuno spat out dirt.
He sat up, and peeked into the now cold ramen. "Nary a drop spilt,
nary a drop wasted." He stood, balking at the thinning night. "I will
have you, Akane Tendo, my love!" He proceeded to escape the premises.
Because the night did not like getting balked at, Kuno mistook the
garbage can for a helpful Sasuke, and further delayed his impending
success, at least for another hour.
Sasuke, on the other hand, had landed exactly onto his bed in the
Kuno residence.
"Bed" was too strong a term for it. It was a straw mat, with a
thick blanket. It was even in the crawlspace under the receiving room.
Nonetheless, he still landed right onto it.
He woke up, stretching. For once, he was not hampered by the low
ceiling, as he himself had recently added the hole. He yawned,
scratched, then opened his eyes.
He saw red.
And blue.
And green.
And several shades of mother-of-pearl, blending rather well into
the lavender.
"What's going on here?"
"Speak to me!" She shook her head wildly, willing herself to speak
straight, think straight, feel straight, don't panic, clear mind, breathe
in, heat the grill... "WHAT'S WRONG!?"
P-chan lay on his back, limbs flailing wildly, head back, mouth
agape. The choking, wheezing sounds were still there, but his eyes were
squinched shut. Tears started to flow.
"DAMN YOU, RYOGA HIBIKI, DON'T YOU *DARE* DIE ON ME!"
Ukyo slapped the porker across the snout. The pig flew to the
side, clear off the bed. She heard the wall make contact.
Ryoga mercifully slid along his nose to the floor.
Shampoo groggily stood on all fours, leaning on the wall. Through
the cat-shaped hole in the dojo window shutters, she could hear and
actually feel the electricity.
What the hell was all that? Akane was... Ranma was... they were
naked!? It, it must be that Akane's fault! She couldn't do the
honorable thing, she had to besmirch Ranma's reputation! You never made
kissy-kissy with your father's houseguest! HE'S MY HUSBAND, YOU HUSSY!
Maybe when my head stops hurting...
"SHIT!"
The lights flared open. Ukyo heedlessly leapt across the room,
blindly hoping that it wasn't even half as bad as she thought it was.
"My God... Ryoga!" She barely stopped herself from slamming into
the wall. "Ryoga!"
P-chan sat there, motionless, sprawled on his haunches...
"I'm sorry! It's all my fault!" Ukyo buried her face into P-
chan's stomach. "I shouldn't have gotten jealous of Akane... or
Nabiki... but, you didn't have to... watch over... you didn't have to
protect them... it's just... there's no one to watch over me..."
"Please, Father. I'm sure that the ghost is as scared of you as
you are of it."
Nabiki yawned, and stretched the kinks out of her peejays. "I
don't see why I have to be dragged into this ghost hunt." Still, she
checked the camcorder's battery.
Kasumi gave Nabiki the barbell while whispering, "Akane wasn't in
her room..."
"And?"
"Neither Ranma nor Mr. Saotome were in the guestroom..."
"And...?" Nabiki trailed off, putting one and one together.
"Oh... why the barbells, then?"
"Just in case," Kasumi replied.
"Just in case" was exactly how Dr. Tofu felt.
Sure, it might not have made sense to anyone else that he wasted
his life in a quiet (feh) little district, practicing his already
mastered martial arts skills, wishing he was somewhere else (to him, that
was merely six blocks down and four blocks to the left)...
He wasn't that old yet: life begins at thirty, they say.
Sure, his lifestyle was not glamorous, his researches merely low-
budgeted, hobbyist efforts. He wasn't living the "Ryu" lifestyle either;
he had his daily regimen to compensate for the rigors of wander.
Was it Buddha who said, all things in moderation? Was it father
who died, speaking most clearly of the follies of an extreme life? Was
it mother who fed him, the carbohydrates and proteins of health, wealth
and wisdom in one plate, the moral fiber and the blood of the service and
dedication in the other?
Was it Kasumi, who said, with complete sincerity... who said...?
"What did she say?"
Ryoga opened his eyes.
Through the hazy, bright blur, he felt and heard but did not see
the sadness, only the tears, and the longing, and the... OHmyGOD, it's
UKYO! She wickedly kept him pinned to his back with her eyes set in her
head, and with the weight her words seemed to carry.
He "bwee"d sympathetically, pathetically. Please don't eat me.
Silence. "R-R-Ryoga...?" She looked up to see him looking at her.
"Ryoga! You're alive!"
"You woke me up to tell me I'm alive?" he would have said. His
snorts sounded distant, even to him.
"RYOGA!" Ukyo stood, picking him up, hugging him close.
"Oh... oh... Kasumi... you're so bold..."
Nabiki's right eyebrow crawled up.
"Did you call me, Nabiki?"
Soun's hair flew back and up, and it only meant that things would
not get better, unless...
"Uh, sure, Kasumi..."
Kasumi considered for a moment. "Well, I guess my nightgown IS a
bit too revealing..."
They drudged on past the guestroom.
Mousse rolled onto his side, clutching the pillow. "Hee, hee... I
really don't know what you have in that jar, Kasumi..."
Tofu resealed the jar, satisfied that not even one pinch had
disappeared.
Twice this week. The book on proper herbal gift giving had
returned, now a volume of the "Flora, Fauna and What-not" encyclopedia,
the thirteenth, in fact, had zeroed out into null space.
He hadn't thought about it before, but now he was sure: something,
or someone, was going on, and things were soon coming to an head.
Shifting gears, he backtracked to the titles that the thief,
mastermind, whatever, borrowed, hoping to find the thread that led back
to the source.
The moans increased in intensity.
"Do-don't go in..."
"Please, Daddy." Handing Kasumi the camcorder, Nabiki hefted the
10-lb with her right arm, cued a count up to three, then...
"Go!" Nabiki slid the door.
They stared.
Kasumi put a hand over the lens of the camera, then slowly turned
it off.
The lights in Ukyo's bedroom went out.
"C'mon, Ryoga... let's get some sleep, shall we."
He was already way ahead of her: the pig snored, his breath steady
on her chest.
She sat on the edge of the bed, breathing in the sunrise. For
once, P-chan did not seem to be the enemy, the pervert, the suitor, or
the guardian. He was just a pet, someone to shower affection to.
Motherly affection? An outlet? Maybe just something... someone to hug.
Strange... when he's a pig, his telltale bandanna actually becomes
a scarf... well, from a headband to a scarf, in that case...
"Ukyo..."
She patted her forehead, already beading with sweat. "Yes, Dad?"
"What did I tell you about what you wear when cooking?"
Ukyo stood up and jumped from off the grill. "The wraparound, the
black cotton pants, the spatula bandoleer. Isn't that all, Dad?"
"But are you wearing... underwear?" Ukyo's father moved in to
tickle her...
"Stop it! Stop it!" It was hard to breathe and laugh at the same
time. "Uncle!"
He stopped, "uncle." He held a hand out.
Ukyo helped herself up with it. When she was on her feet, he
playfully ruffled her hair with that hand. With his other hand, the
yattai owner wrapped a white cloth around the child's forehead.
"Hey...! Aww, Dad..."
"C'mon, Tiger." Mr. Kuonji took her by the waist and sat her on
the edge of the grill, where she knelt just moments ago. "Why don't you
want to wear a headband?"
"'Coz it's so hot!" She squirmed slightly.
"Do you know *why* you have to wear one?"
Ukyo stopped at that. There was a reason? Hmm... "So I wouldn't
get hit with oil spattering?"
"No... you would have been better off with one of those kabuki
masks."
"To keep my sweat from the batter?"
"No... sweat is one of the ingredients of good cooking."
She shook her head. "Why, then?"
She wouldn't easily forget her father's words as they crossed the
years. "Well, Tiger. A headband keeps your hair from covering your
eyes."
... wisely keeping his head from covering his heart.
The epiphany washed over her, and, that morning, she realized that
since the time she came to Nerima, her blood started running cold.
She had been growing her head too long.
How many times had she felt like packing up, giving up, and soothed
herself by saying, "is this it? All that time and effort for nothing?"
How many times did she ask for reasons when she could have asked
for feelings?
How many times did she wake up looking for love and finding... a
pig?
Setting her charge on a pillow, she took her battle spatula... and
began to unravel a relic from a happier past.
When she was finished, the yellow ribbon rolled along her arm in a
sudden gust of wind. Carefully, she wrapped the cloth once, twice,
finally knotting it.
The makeshift bow-tie gripped her throat lightly; she swore that
there was still time, still time to listen to the slow, calm beatings of
her heart.
Time's up.
Soun nodded gravely, then clapped his hands on Ranma's shoulders.
Since Ranma was still in cat-fu, he immediately hissed and jumped back
into Akane's lap. The latter bowed her head, partly to calm the
frightened Ranma, partly to obscure her complete nakedness, partly to
avoid her sisters' or her father's eyes, partly to cover her own
emotions.
"Well, then," he said after regaining composure, the bounciness of
his hair and facial coloration, "Akane, Ranma... for the sake of the
Anything-Goes School of Martial-Arts... for the honor of my family and
yours... you must be wed."
Kasumi put a hand to her mouth. "Oh my."
Akane raised her head and rushed her father. "I'm so happy!"
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(Detach here)
"Heart over mind" is something I heard in Conner Reeves's "My
Father's Son", which, incidentally, I just heard today. Though it has no
relevance to the above, the sentiment makes me feel weird.
Welcome again to the Switch continuity. If there are any comments
or criticisms to be sent, hopefully the Zu won't go on forced hiatus via
server/phone-line problems.
Mental note: less MTV, more action!
(Detach here)
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Nikholas F. Toledo Zu @ http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Flats/3145/mezza9.html
Vector, Switch, Yebah, Rain Man, goo, Pervert, Scruples, Hollie, NomaD,
Blitz, Gee, Datzo, Jewel, Elf, Radler, Pinball, Mayhem, Chaos, Father, Attar
Fanfiction @ http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Flats/3145/fanfics.html
Warp Zone @ http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Flats/3145/thirteen.html
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The logo of the Church of All Worlds is nine concentric circles.
Word from the Laity: Wipe yer feet! Bloody 'ell...
http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Gallery/3145/index.html
Currently under construction... confessional at the links.
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