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A Ranma 1/2 Fan Fic
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Switch: Herbs and Spices Day 2
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.
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Ten to One Against
Dr. Tofu went out.
"Hello," said Nerima.
"Hello," replied Dr. Tofu. "Raining any time today?"
"Nope," Nerima said. Then she winked in a coy manner.
"Just any time I'm not expecting." He sighed. He stretched. He
yawned. "I'm doing some exercises. Goodbye."
"Goodbye," said Nerima.
Shampoo slammed the door behind her. She thought again, then
opened it, just to slam it harder.
Without her prior notice, the door locked itself shut.
Gosunkugi dressed up in something normal that day. Lugging three
tomes, he hefted his load and trudged a path to the library.
Mousse wondered what was happening. All of a sudden, he was caught
underfoot by a very solid gust of wind.
Underfoot?
He regained his balance, then very carefully stepped off the truck,
which was turning at that point.
Mr. Turtle slept soundly, chewing on scraps of dark-hued cloth.
Letting her own concern wash away her shyness, Akane slowly opened
the door at the end of the hall. She pulled it back slowly, and only up
to the point where she could squeeze herself through. She pulled it
inward, checking if she had woken her eldest sibling.
Kasumi breathed in and out in deep slow breaths.
Akane tiptoed over the carpeted flooring.
Okay. Now what?
She held the basin with one hand, and set it on the low table,
pushing the book to one side. Thoughtful older sister Kasumi, she mused.
She considered where she could sit. The floor was a bit too low,
and the table looked rickety enough with the potted plant on it. She
leaned slowly unto Kasumi's bed, just beside the pillow.
She turned to the long hair that her sister had. It was strewn in
a haphazard manner, so much unlike how it behaved when it was tied up in
a ponytail, along her shoulder. She remembered her own long tresses, and
how much she had to sacrifice, to find love. She ran her fingers through
it, relishing the soft feel of it.
Remembering the cloth, she took the face towel, and wrung it, to
return it to moist from soggy.
"Mother...?"
She stiffened.
"Mother...?" Kasumi asked again. "Is it time for the cooking
lessons yet...?"
"No," Akane said softly. "Not yet."
"Oh," she mumbled, feigning a return to sleep.
They both smiled.
Kodachi rolled, somehow not noticing that she was sleeping on
shingles. None the matter; the sun was now starting to be unbearable,
and the roofs were starting to emanate hot soup.
Not that any of the martial artists would notice.
An excerpt from the alleged black book of Nabiki Tendo, as
described by several acquaintances:
Ranma beaten in a fight by a guy - 10 to 1.
Ranma beaten in second fight with a guy - 25 to 1.
Akane courted by guy Ranma will fight/is fighting - 4 to 1.
Ranma courted by guy Ranma will fight/is fighting - 3 to 1.
Ranma bopped by Akane during the fight - 4 to 1.
Dr. Tofu courting Kasumi (before Ranma graduates) - 20 to 1.
Shampoo uses door - 15 to 1.
New fianc�e for Ranma showing up (daily) - 6 to 1.
The above being Genma's fault - 3 to 2.
Ryoga on time for anything - 12 to 1.
Kodachi giving non-poisoned food - 16 to 1.
Ranma and Akane getting married before graduation - 25 to 1.
Rain in Nerima - 5 to 1.
Any Kuno figuring out what's going on - 30 to 1.
Happosai says "no" to panties - 35 to 1.
Genma says "no" to free food - 35 to 1.
It is also likely that the alleged black book is just a figment of
some overactive imagination. Since Nabiki doesn't have a black book, one
is more inclined to think so; she makes the odds as she sees'em.
The katana lay, still in its ricepaper sheath, the ancestral sword
of the Saotome clan. The bloodless blade shone in the darkness,
unassisted by the light. Silent, yet swift and sharp.
Where...? Nodoka didn't want to leave the greatest treasure of the
Saotome clan, easy to plunder, wrath of the ancients... oh, what's the
use. She stood up, after looking under the table. If the testy little
thing doesn't want to be found, I'll have to wait my sweet time, won't I?
She thought to leave at that point, but something held her back.
She sighed. I suppose I'll have to look for it... She went back
in, renewing her search. The blade glinted brightly, as though amused.
Nabiki didn't feel like patting herself, but she had to admit that
she did a good job.
"... good job, Nabiki!"
"Really?" She wanted to know if this was really a good thing.
"Really, honey." The smile was enough to assure her.
She smiled for a moment, then realized that the voices were merely
in her head. The smile stayed, but became more lopsided. She set the
plates on the table, and went up to call her siblings to eat.
Because it isn't good to have so much angst in the morning, we cut
to the following segment:
Kuno hunted around for people in the mansion.
His sister, who had been missing for the past ten hours, was not
able to make a presence.
Sasuke, who had last been heard to scream and shout and holler, all
the while feeding Mr. Turtle, was not able to make a presence either.
Principal Kuno, who was still in Hawaii, was still not there. Not
as though "Tachi" wanted to find him there.
The rest of the household, figuring that Mr. Turtle needed yet
another meal, with neither the mistress nor the pygmy ninja to feed him,
did not want to get "volunteered" into the job. They did not want to be
found.
"Would it be that I, Tatewaki Kuno, might find myself bereft of
company on this fine summer's day?" He sat Rodin-esque, then: "'tis a
sign! I must call upon the favors of the calisthenic epitome, Akane
Tendo and the pig-tailed goddess whose name I am not worthy to remember!"
Of course, Kuno would have used any excuse to find his two great
loves-him-not. Apparently, he was better prepared now, as he pulled out
two bouquets of roses out-of-nowhere [1]. He ran.
A few minutes later, he shouted, "Augh!" Apparently, the only ones
who really knew about the traps in the house were his sister and their
dwarfed ninja.
Incidentally, Mr. Turtle was freely roaming the house, scrounging
up for scraps. Apparently, he was hungry, and there was someone to feed
him in the house: he heard the "Augh!" and followed from there.
[1] Out-of-nowhere is a term that is being phased out. Though some
might assume that this phasing out is due to political incorrectness, as
out-of-nowhere has no counterpart out-of-somewhere or, better yet, in-to-
nowhere, biasing itself against the absence of location, this is actually
due to the introduction of the trendier phrases "out of thin air", "out
of Hammerspace(TM)" or "out of that space where all those things they get
out in a surprising and unexplained manner come from."
Nabiki was about to knock on Kasumi's door when Akane popped out,
almost causing collision. "Breakfast is ready," she said flatly.
"Be with you in a minute," Akane said, rushing past, down the
stairs.
"Nabiki?" Kasumi, on the other hand stayed in the bed.
This, in fact, bothered her. A lot of things were bothering her
all of a sudden. She pushed her way in.
Kasumi had a damp cloth over her forehead, which she explained by
way of gesturing towards the absent Tendo sister. Nabiki crossed her
arms in front of her, then leaned into the bed on them. "Good morning."
The eldest Tendo girl considered the ceiling for a while. She
weighed her options carefully, then released a long sigh.
"What... what do you think of Dr. Tofu?"
Kodachi rolled in her sleep.
Gosunkugi walked down the street.
Despite whatever interesting things have happened to almost
everybody in Nerima, nothing ever happened to him. He wouldn't have
minded getting almost run down by a certain bouncy Amazon on a bike, or
maybe by an alternately cute/sexy teacher waving five-yen coins in the
air, or a shorthaired dream-girl. Maybe even a leotard-clad... nope, not
that desperate.
That only thing that ever happens to him is... rain.
Of course, at the intersection, he wasn't expecting the rain to be
blind Amazon. He wasn't even the bouncy type.
Shampoo was at a loss. Did she anger some goddess of luck?
Heavens know their whole gang have already tripped up all sorts of gods
and goddesses, demons and some such. In the span of twelve hours, two
simple potions have backfired on her.
Why do these things always happen to me?
There is a fine line between superstition and religion; a religion
differs itself by a set of written agreements and a name to itself. In
fact, two people who belong to different religions would, at best, treat
each other to have oblique superstitions. (At worst... can you say
jihad?)
It is not a wonder that most religions abhor superstitions. (Or is
it that most pious seem zealous to extent of superstition?)
Unfortunately, there is a matter of propagation of the faith. A
superstition may rarely have changes that would affect the spirit of the
word, it is actually more likely that one scheming to abuse a religion
would so blatantly focus on the word. After all, would one suspect the
keeper of the word to go against it?
In any case, superstitions tend to regard the world as a
irredeemable cesspool of malicious spirits who will trip you up if you
break a "rule"; religions would present a way out of it.
Also, luck would unanimously be shoveled into the bin of
superstition. After all, who but gamblers would believe that the gods
would have anything to do with which space on a segmented wheel a metal
ball will land on? "God does not play dice with the universe."
There is a fine line between superstition and philosophy, but this
is not due to probability.
Kodachi rolled in her sleep. Then she scratched her nose.
"Well..." Nabiki drawled. It was about time her sister opened up.
She considered. "I... well, he's okay... for an older guy."
Kasumi's mouth twisted minutely, as though she wanted to retort.
Out of character? Nabiki was sleepier than she thought. "Well, what do
you think of Dr. Tofu?"
Not that it wasn't like her to reiterate a point, it was just that
Kasumi did it for very, very obvious reasons: she had seen the technique
used on their two younger housemates. Unusually enough, this one was
confusing her. Did Kasumi want to know what she thought because she
wanted to... compare? Re-evaluate? Contrast? Challenge?
Two can play at that game... whatever it is.
"Actually... he's kind of cute."
They stared into each other's eyes for a moment. The tension was
suspended when Kasumi choked off a gulp.
Kasumi couldn't believe her ears. It would have been difficult if
she hadn't had anything on him, but now...
"Oh..." was all she said.
Nobody's seen the back of Dr. Tofu's clinic, in recent memory.
Nobody's seen Dr. Tofu practice martial arts, either. One could
also infer that the two event spaces overlap.
One could have been correct, but not quite. For example, Nodoka
had seen, a day before, that Dr. Tofu was a martial artist, by his
extraordinary walking abilities.
Of course, in physical training, it is important to clear one's
mind. The body, in order to harmonize with the mind, must come into a
reset with it. Hence, meditation.
A scheme was to imagine a furnace, to burn everything in your
foremind, and to see it consumed, leaving a huge void. It is much harder
than it seems, pink elephants or otherwise.
To be a doctor, one would always have a presence of mind. The
emergency, as it presents itself, should always be found, as would a
solution.
In short, to become a martial artist, one must stop being the
doctor.
Tofu, now known as Dr. Tofu, has always found this fascinating.
Acupressure and acupuncture have been accepted healing crafts in
the Orient for decades past, now. Yet, the basic knowledge of these
fields have led to several of the techniques specialized in the martial
arts. Indeed, the study of ki and its effects on the human body are well
within the bounds of study of either.
And, yet, these fields, like all medical fields, can be perverted
and used against the human body. These, too, fall well within the fields
of each other.
Thus, the murderer distinguishes himself from the doctor in terms
of medical jurisprudence, and, in that case, in terms of motive. As with
the martial artist and the practitioner.
In any case, Dr. Tofu was then the martial artist. In fact, he was
doing one-armed push-ups on his right. With his eyes closed.
Actually, it was a process that he started just lately. Pavlovian
conditioning and all. After all, everything can be achieved by the power
of the human spirit, right?
Premise: whenever Kasumi is around while Dr. Tofu is "being the
doctor", everything goes haywire.
Premise: Tofu the doctor and Tofu the martial artist are two
separate states of mind.
Assumption: whatever makes Dr. Tofu go haywire while Kasumi is
around, it is because he is "being the doctor".
Hypothesis: Tofu, the martial artist, with his superior discipline
and concentration and void, will not go haywire at even the mention of
Kasumi.
Experimentation.
Right now, Tofu was concentrating on the martial arts heritage his
father had passed down unto him. His breathing was in sync with the
flexing and stretching in his right arm; he was his right arm. It was
unusually quiet, but he took it all in. The mildew, the chirping birds,
the all-ness and none-ness... he opened his eyes.
There was Kasumi. At least, a reproduction of one of her most
striking moments.
In moments, Dr. Tofu's clinic suddenly had a back gate.
Kodachi rolled in her sleep. Faster.
Kasumi did say that she was going to have a chat with Nabiki, and
that I could jog around for about ten minutes. Akane quickly took off
the dress she had on (carefully putting it aside; she was planning to
wear it today, after all), and put on a pair of shorts and... hmm...
maybe not. She discarded the shorts and sleeveless shirt, and donned a
gi, instead.
Having done that, she rushed downstairs (tossing a quick "be a
while" to her siblings as she passed by Kasumi's room), and outside.
Ryoga took slow moments moving: quite a few, just to set Ukyo on
the floor, making sure to place the blanket between her and the carpet;
another few to gently reach her hands, which were possessively caressing
the small of his back; yet a few more to untangle their legs.
Sweet, sweet Ukyo. She seemed to have lost her ribbon. In a
moment, he was cupping her hair in one hand and tying it loosely with one
of his own bandannas.
He was slightly over her body, and he sat up. He took another look
at her. Yellow doesn't go well with blue, he concluded, and unbound her
hair. The bandanna lay limply in his hand.
She looked much better with her hair free.
What had Ranma done to you, then? Nothing in the past days...
well, past weeks, last he saw her... could have led to this. How dare he
treat a woman so callously?
Ryoga stood, ire building within him. Urrrggggghh... he started
taking measured steps towards the door, but as soon as he opened it, he
lost his concentration completely: CURSE YOU, RANMA! He sped through
the opening, leaving the door ajar in his wake.
Akane has had these jogging trips before, of course. Almost every
day, actually. Ever since Ranma came, Akane hasn't been very sure about
her own skills (not that she'd say anything on that count, that is).
Apparently, those boys at Furinkan were good for something.
Oh... hogwash! Akane pushed away the idea. She didn't want the
old days back. And she wasn't that off... although, it did feel kind of
sore in places. Maybe she should ask Nabiki about that yogaerobics thing
she was trying. And breakfast! More than enough reason to start
stepping up the pace.
She rushes... she fakes... she turns... she trips... ouphe.
Akane picked herself up from the pile she made with Mousse and,
after some searching, Gosunkugi. Grahh. Both knocked out. They got
into a fight... and Gosunkugi didn't get clobbered? Boys. #~_~ And I
thought this insanity was Ranma's turf only.
Better get them to Doctor... Tofu's? Ungh. Mousse is heavier than
he looks. Well, Akane, she chided herself, what would you expect of a
hidden weapons master? Rggggh. I need a hand...
Serendipity and all, Dr. Tofu happened to pass by that self-same
intersection at that self-same time.
Kodachi rolled in her sleep. And fell. Into the bottom of the
alley.
Oh, yeah. Tsubasa rolled in his sleep, also.
Kasumi was getting out of bed as Nabiki returned. Immediately, the
younger shushed the elder, saying, "now, now. Can't you try to relax
once in a while?"
Both of them had in mind to humor the other. "Oh, all right. But
I will have to return that downstairs."
"Tut, tut. I am not having any of that." As soon as Kasumi was in
a sitting position at the head of the bed, Nabiki placed the tray she
brought across the long-haired woman's lap.
Kasumi looked at the bowl of miso, and gave Nabiki an approving
look. Snapping off her chopsticks, she asked, "aren't you having any,
Nabiki?"
"Oh, don't worry, sis. I've tasted it myself." Kasumi actually
smiled at that. "No, I'm just waiting for someone." She whispered, "now
just where could that girl be?"
"Oh, there you are." Nodoka reached into a corner behind the
refrigerator. "I should have looked in there first."
Surely enough, the ancestral sword of the Saotome clan shone
gleefully. Though she was severely tempted to practice some kendo katas,
she quickly sheathed the gay blade.
Hefting it so that it slipped in between the brown obi and the
light blue kimono she wore, she went through the last-minute checks,
making sure that she had the keys which she would hand over to her
neighbors... oh, the cookies. She laughed slightly at her gaffe.
All things necessary taken care of, Nodoka set off to a hopefully
fruitful visit to the Tendo dojo.
As she was about to leave, the front door flung outward, and a
harried, yet otherwise nondescript man rushed in. "Madam," he started,
"may I interest you in the truth?"
Tsubasa has been in rather tight spots in carton boxes.
A carton box is, after all, a tough spot to be in in the first
place. Being struck by mighty mighty spatulae or being body slammed
while constricting your body to the space of such a box is not a
pleasurable experience.
However, it would be, to most people, a hypothetical question to be
asked whether or not sharing such space in a carton with a person of the
opposite sex would or would not be a pleasurable experience.
Hopefully to present an answer, the following sample was observed:
Tsubasa fell into the alley in the carton, knocked out.
Kodachi fell into the carton, asleep.
Neither woke from this.
Tsubasa rolled, right into Kodachi's face.
Kodachi wrapped her outstretched arms around Tsubasa.
Tsubasa woke up, slightly jostled. Concussion possible.
Kodachi woke up, slightly freshened.
Kodachi kissed Tsubasa.
Further testings should prove more precise.
"He left."
Ukyo said this very softly, even before she opened her eyes. The
situation made itself evident: Ryoga probably needed to go to a
bathroom, and *poof* gone in two shakes. Another three weeks might pass
before he comes back. She moaned slightly.
"Ryoga Hibiki, force of nature," she clucked sardonically, as she
stood for her morning toilette, "powerful, unpredictable, and leaves you
breathless afterward." She shook her head, then promised not to be so
fatalistic. Maybe just after a bath.
Near the bottom of the staircase, as Ukyo turned to the bath's
outer door, she thought she heard noises from the inside. Had she not
been too wistful, these would have registered; they hadn't. On the
other hand, had she been a little more wistful, she might have wished for
Ryoga to actually find the bath, just this once.
Of course, he wasn't actually looking for it this time.
All Ryoga knew was that he was suddenly in a bath. Unfortunately,
it takes him even longer to get out of a bath than into it, there being
two doors and all. Open one, and, "agh! the hot tub!" Turn around,
open the door, "agh! the hot tub!" And so on. Fortunately, so far,
with all that water, hot and cold, he hadn't undergone any swift changes.
Someone. At the door.
Oh no. Like the proverbial trapped animal, Ryoga did as instincts
told him: panic like a headless chicken.
Ukyo opened the door. Ryoga backed up and hoped to God there was a
way out of this situation. What there was was a faucet.
A cold water faucet.
Ukyo stood mystified as Ryoga just... just dissolved before her.
And underneath all of Ryoga's clothes was a very, very wet pig.
11th Guest
"Mommy?"
Mrs. Tendo looked up from her notebook. Her little girl was coming
up to her with a questioning glance. "Mommy, I have a little question."
The cookbook still had about a third to go through. She closed it
slowly, and placed the ball-point pen on the cover. While her dumpling
shifted and pouted and looked everywhere and pulled on her skirt, she
smiled, sweetly yet tinged with a sadness she could not place. How she
loved her little ways, even though they were always a little different.
A little off: she's never really come close to either parent, yet.
Picking up her bundle of joy, she politely asked, "what does my
little princess want to ask me?"
The roundish face came to eyelevel with the thoughtful bright eyes.
"Mommy, have you ever gotten married?"
She smiled, dimples fascinating her young charge. "Of course,
dear. Why do you ask?"
The younger Tendo's brown furrowed, as though she was miffed by not
having overseen the event herself. "How many guests were there?"
What an awkward question, the thirty-odd year old housewife mused.
Nonetheless, she answered. "Let's see. There was Uncle Saotome,
Grandfather Hap-"
"Was there a priest?" Her dark eyes glittered, implacable.
"Yes. Then, there was Auntie Nodoka, though she wasn't Auntie
Saotome yet. And-"
A tug. "Was daddy there?"
She stopped enumerating, and smirked. "Yes, I think daddy was
there. He was with me."
"Oh." She said that in that wondrously magical way that kids
always did when they learned something new about the world. Then, she
bowed her head, counting on her fingers. A little early for her age to
be counting on two hands, but there she was. The pre-schooler didn't
even notice that she had stopped.
The girl bobbed her head upward. "He wasn't a guest?"
She smiled, and nodded.
The child smiled back, and continued her computations. A few more
digit exertions, then: "how many?"
Sparing the details, she concluded, "about twenty guests."
At the figure, she opened both hands so that her little wizard
would see how big twenty was. She counted off on her fingers, and turned
them when she got past ten. When she stopped, the shorthaired little
girl shook her head.
"What's wrong?"
Two little hands kept her hands from curling. A small fist, she
put on top of the larger ones. "Priest." She uncurled the left thumb.
"Mommy." She glanced up for acknowledgement, then uncurled her left
pointer finger. "Daddy." The middle finger.
With her right hand, she demonstrated closing her mother's hands.
She opened them, one by one, but instead of counting from one, she
started at four. At the end, there were thirteen fingers laid out.
"No good." She pouted, having made her point.
And indeed it was made. Such was a bond between a child and the
mother who raised her. Thus, Mrs. Tendo promised to her, there and then,
"okay, sugar. No more than ten guests at your wedding, dear. Mommy
promises."
She's never been known to be superstitious.
But having plenty of round objects in her apartment does not
constitute being superstitious. Truth to be told, many of these round
things have holes in them; not much in terms of luck there.
Hinako Ninomiya has never really had had a normal life to begin
with, and she liked to think that luck was never a factor in it. Of
course, if fate had not thrown into her path a kindly old man that
changed her metabolism and aided (if not cured) her frail constitution,
then she would not be fulfilling her lifelong dream of teaching.
Nope, no luck there. There was determination, some willpower, lots
of ki-suctioning, and an honest-to-goodness longing for the job.
Neither is it luck that she had been transferred to Furinkan High,
where, through connections, maneuvering and exhaustive research, she had
found the man of her dreams. There was no need for luck at all.
Where was the point in trying to wait for things to occur when you
could make them happen yourself?
Hinako woke up, in her polka-dotted apartment, yawning and tossing
the self-help book she had confiscated from Gosunkugi last school period.
"What a funny book."
A frustrated Shampoo made her way up the stairs and, with a
plaintive sigh that signified exactly how tired she was, she plopped down
on her bed, fast asleep.
The Cat Cafe (also known as the Neko Hanten) is an interesting
treatise on cultural architecture. It meshes the aspects and flavor of
both Japanese and Chinese nature. Considering that it is an overnight
project, it makes a pretty well-supported statement by itself.
(Though, notable enough is the fact that the lot that the
restaurant stands was not empty the day before it was built. Cologne had
well-negotiated a lease with the owner. Since the other party had owned
the rest of that area, and the Amazons had attracted attention and
customers to the area, this other party has had little complaint.)
In any case, the building's design is simple and modern Japanese,
with a second floor with wooden flooring and average-thickness walling.
A small outdoor patio at the back, where which laundry is hung, and a
skinny alleyway to its left side bound the building.
The restaurant proper is tastefully Chinese in ambiance, with an
aura of grandeur, size, volume and smoke that speak of a heritage of
light opium, beautiful women and quality ramen. (And a notably Hong Kong
feel to it, as the occasional fistfight quickly turns into a Jackie Chan-
esque mess, but that's mostly due to the air of being in Nerima.)
But appearances aren't all: arguably, the personality of any
restaurant can be found in two places, the kitchen and the storeroom.
The Cat Cafe kitchen is a hive of activity during the workhours,
and a laboratory of sorts during the off-hours. It is well-known that
some of the most potent of potions and most questionable of foodstuffs
have been created here. (The only other places which could compete are,
respectively, the Kuno greenhouse, and the Tendo kitchen.)
However, the true secret lies in the storeroom, which occupies the
half of an excavated basement. (The other half is taken up by a rather
lush bathroom.) In a warehouse-like arrangement, crate upon crate of
commodity and weaponry come together in a menacing and completely at-ease
manner. Several odd herbs by the bushel, a toxic fluid by the gallon,
swords by the bunch... and at the center of which (which could be no more
than just a tiny space in between the crates) is a futon.
Akane helped carry Mousse (as Gosunkugi was securely placed on top
of him) all the way to the clinic. She glanced at the normally pristine
(if occasionally disheveled) young man, and blushed slightly. He was
sweating through a sleeveless undershirt, which hid neither his physique
nor the effects of his martial arts training on it.
Before she was able to stifle the blush, her eyes traveled along
the strength of his bare arms, peripherally taking in the firmness of his
abdomen, across his pectorals, up his collarbone and smooth throat, to
his shining blue eyes. She blushed even more furiously, when she
realized that the doctor's brown lens-aided eyes focussed on her. He
just laughed.
"Um, doctor? I have to go home and... omigosh! Breakfast!" With
the doctor's nod, she sped off.
I am dead. This was all that Ryoga was thinking at the time.
He tried to hide under the folds of his shirt, but it was as futile
as using an umbrella against a Rising Dragon Blast, and almost as
disorienting. It should work, oh dear God, please, please work...
Ukyo picked up the shirt, uncovering the squealing, wide-eyed pig.
She opened her mouth in a startled manner, and took a step back.
Could pigs fly? Ryoga's mind screamed through his ears. He
scampered quickly, hoping to go through the exit between the chef's legs.
Which was blocked by the business end of a really ticked-off fly
swatter. Make that pig-swatter.
I'm dead, Ryoga bweed. Then he was tossed into the air.
Kuno mansion. One of many deathtraps that are strewn hither and
yon like so much like flotsam, jetsam and bedlam (especially near the
Nerima ward).
"AUGH!"
The sub-verbal call for help reverberated throughout the household,
without much response beyond the shaking of a few heads, or the change of
direction in reptilian feet.
Outside the house, the "Augh!" was dampened to lesser levels, as it
shook tree, air and water alike in minute oscillations. It dove below
the surface of the water and came into contact with the bottom of the
pond.
To a small figure at the bottom, it rang like the morning reveille.
"I'm coHHHHHHHHKKK *glug*" Sasuke just kept his mouth closed and
swam to the rescue.
"Excuse me." She gave herself two gulps of air. "You're not
selling encyclopedia, are you?"
"Huh?" He was more flushed than flustered.
"That would be a noteworthy sales pitch. 'Interested in the
truth', indeed." Nodoka gently, but firmly, held the sheathed katana's
hilt. "I'm sorry, but I'm not interested. I'm also in a hurry, so if
you'll excuse me." She took the man's right arm with her own with
authority.
The man was unmoved. Having caught his breath, he pushed door to
open the space a bit more. "I have... information about... your husband
and your son."
That struck a nerve. "That's who I'm... fetching right now."
"At the Tendo dojo. They're not there now."
Her shoulders sagged slightly. She looked the stranger in the eye.
"Who are you to my family?"
"We'll meet, I'm sure," he said, as he closed the door behind him.
"I'm home!"
"Sure took your time."
"Sorry!" Akane walked into the living room, to see breakfast
already laid out. Nabiki was behind her, coming from upstairs. "I ran
into Mousse and Gosunkugi, passed out on the road."
Nabiki smirked. "Never knew they had it in'em. On the road, too."
Akane gave a little sigh of relief. Nabiki was in higher spirits
than usual. "Of course not. Took them to Dr. Tofu's."
Nabiki made a clicking sound. "You naughty girl."
Stop blushing, Akane yelled at herself. "Why?" she shyly
inquired.
"Because you're still chasing after Dr. Tofu. And I was betting on
you and Ranma getting married before the end of the year."
Akane felt very much her namesake. Bitterly annoyed and horribly
embarrassed clashed in monochrome on her cheeks. "Nabiki!" she weakly
got out.
"Touch�," the older sister stuck her tongue out, triumphant.
That's for making me wait. I'm famished.
Decked in her strong-hemmed yellow one-piece dress, Hinako
scrambled into and out of the nooks and crannies of her apartment.
"Where is it?" She hyper-skipped into the bathroom. She fled the scene
in almost the same breath. She poked into a walk-in closet and suddenly
"waiiiiii!"ed, waving a wide-brimmed light yellow hat. Happily, she
locked the apartment as she took a wave-wavy path to the Tendo household.
Owwwwwwwwwwwwwww.
Tsubasa did not wake up in a very good mood.
It was very, very smelly. He did not want to see what he thought
he was in.
He tried to stretch, but something was cramping him in.
He tried to yawn, but his lips were stuck in some... well, hardened
glue or something. Nope, not quite. He hoped he wasn't sucking on a
bottle.
Then he felt... it. Something was moving... and it was wrapped
around his legs. Smooth, ticklish and distinctly warm.
A memory: he was in an alley. In a trash pile.
The final piece was when he heard and felt a very feminine "mmm..."
Felt it. In his gums.
He opened his eyes.
He liked what he saw.
He closed them again and rode away...
"... to Dr. Tofu's," Kasumi was finishing. She quietly placed the
letter in the middle of the book.
"I'll get the plates," Akane volunteered.
Nabiki looked dubious. "Are you sure you can make it on your own?"
Kasumi had her back turned. "Oh, don't worry. I just need... a
check-up."
Nabiki caught the pause. Still, "be careful."
Kasumi "hmm-mmm"ed.
"Kasumi?"
She turned. "What is it, Nabiki?"
"Will you be home for lunch?"
Kasumi kept an even expression as she had moved from slight
confusion to realization. "Oh dear. I'll try to-"
"Don't." Nabiki slyly smiled. "Tell you what," she started,
taking a credit card from a pocket, "take Dr. Tofu to lunch. On me."
Time stopped.
"Blast! My sister's fiendish charge must have jostled my
timepiece!" Kuno lamented. "Now, I might never set my assemblies and
rendezvous when Nature best gratifies the human soul!"
"Aaaah!" Sasuke over-reacted. "My watch has stopped too!"
"'Tis a day of lamentation, and grave meditation, when time ceases
and ends. I must be with my loves!" Thereby finding a laudable excuse,
Kuno spared his servant the rest of his speech.
"Aaaah! Master Kuno!" A puff of smoke marked his escape.
"Shucks! And I just wanted to ask if he knew where Mistress Kodachi was.
Those ropes won't hold the alligator. I... what's this?" He picked up a
recipe.
"Oh, it's a clue!" He started sniffing the paper. He tried
getting fingerprints, but only got his own. He scratched his head. "I
know this is a clue... but how?"
Absently, he read the recipe aloud. "... potent... dilute in one
liter per teaspoon... instantly falls in love with whoever of the
opposite gender... blah... target of affection changes every time the
victim (?) loses consciousness... do not dispose of by feeding to animals
or by washing in running water... what a bunch of rubbish." And with
that, he crumpled the disproved clue, and thought nothing of it.
Time continued.
Kasumi took the rectangular plastic. Her openly asking glance
would have prompted a similar glance from the middle sister, had she been
there with her. Instead, she was already inside asking Akane, "you got a
minute?"
Akane washed her hands off with two sheets of towelette. "Yeah.
Why?"
"Let's," Nabiki started, leaning forward confidentially, "make a
deal."
Why... wha-? She tied him up, gagged him, and was now lugging him
off, carrying him across her shoulder. Ryoga was now certain that, in
spite of certainties, Ukyo was an Amazon. Of course, he was now a pig,
and it was far better to be tossed across someone's shoulder than held by
the scruff of his neck or by his tail (he was quite sure that that would
weaken him immensely). Or maybe on one's bosom...
Oh, shut up, he told his currently eloquent panic systems.
Why? it babbled back. It gets you into this type of trouble, but
it's soooooo much better, right?
It would be better, he thought, if I could just look at her face,
find out... what?
You were never good at body language. Got you into as much
trouble.
Oh, just shut up.
Thus, he sped down from panic to good, wholesome depression.
She hates me.
Now she's going to COOK you.
Ryoga bonked his panic center once for good measure.
Where IS she taking me?
This was when he got tossed into a really dark room. Ukyo closed
the door behind her, leaving him in a state of confusion. Not
necessarily a problem, or unusual, just... distressing.
Ryoga busied himself by removing the bandanna gagging him. After
spitting out the cloth, he wondered when he last took a bath. He had
already removed two of the other bandannas and was shaking his
hindquarters to get out of the last one when the door opened slightly.
On the floor, Ukyo's silhouette bent toward him, leaving a lump, then
straightened.
He pondered the parcel in the doorway, and weighed its
significance.
The kettle whistled light steam.
A door slid open.
Two gi-clad legs entered tentatively, only to be replaced by the
sliding shut of the door.
The young woman fashioned a cautious posture, eyes darting to the
darker corners of the room. Not satisfied by her visual sweep, she began
to pace the room in even steps, each leading to and from a back stance.
For each turn of her body, her head tilted within a tight angle to
increase her perception.
And still, the creaking of the floorboards made all noise.
She stepped out of the natural lighting and closer to the darkened
end of the dojo, where most of the hi-tech recording and reproduction
equipment were usually set-up. Another step completely shaded her eyes,
and she took a moment to refocus her vision.
That's when her assailant struck.
Out of a corner, a silhouette leapt upward and forward, with its
outstretched arms in front of its head. It missed the young woman's head
by inches, as the latter dropped into a roll further into the shadows.
The young woman stood in the darkness, while her assailant turned
to flash a focussed expression. "Nabiki!" she hissed.
She saw Nabiki jump back into the wall, her own gi rustling
slightly. "Just checking your reflexes."
Her own sister was egging her on? With a low grunt, Akane rushed
from her obfuscation and into Nabiki's personal space rather quickly and
with strikes from both arms.
As Akane's punches came within range, Nabiki extended her arms to
fend off blows. She soon found that she had her back to the wall itself,
and that she was being pelted by close-range hits.
Akane was beginning to wonder whether or not this was a good idea.
She hadn't been using full force, but Nabiki has yet to put up an
offense.
"Na-" she began, when she was suddenly swept backwards by a kick
behind her shins. Nabiki delivered a vicious elbow to her abdomen. "-
bOOF!"
Nabiki jumped away from the wall and where Akane was. "Don't pull
any punches!" she huffed.
Akane pushed herself up, pushed her breakfast back into place, and
put her mind to setting some etiquette into her sister. "Kiyaaaaaa!"
she came in with a sidekick.
The door closed.
In the dining room, Nodoka Saotome sat, still as she had been for
moments hence. The sword stretched across the table.
In seconds more, Nodoka shook herself out of the stupor. She took
the ancestral sword of the honorable Saotome clan dating back to the
times of feudal Japan, when honor and loyalty was all, by the hilt. She
raised it to the light, allowing the ricepaper sheath to fall to the
floor.
She was now judge, jury and executioner, as representative to the
ancestors whose laws were broken, to the family of peers to which they
have found guilty, and the blade whose law will be final, and all.
To the father, her husband, a treason beyond all reasoning.
To the daughter he had birthed, she washed her hands of her. But
their fates were one, and she, too, must suffer.
Tomorrow. When they return from Mt. Fuji.
And the ancient blade shone laughing, knowing that it will be
bathed at long, long last.
Gosunkugi blinked awake. He saw that he was inside an infirmary of
sorts. Much to his chagrin, he noticed that the three books he had
borrowed from the library were missing. He walked around, hoping that it
hadn't been left on the street.
He stumbled into an adjacent room. There was a heavy wooden table
in the middle of the room, a filing cabinet near the door, and a bookcase
to a side. There was also a couch under the window to the far wall, and
a door to the side. As it was, he was enamored by the olden tomes with
archaic titles, when the doorbell sounded.
"Hello?" A soft female voice. "Dr. Tofu?"
This was Dr. Tofu's? Gosunkugi had heard of it, but had never seen
it or been there before.
"Who is it?" A male voice, presumably Dr. Tofu's. The sound of
thick glass crunched. "K-k-kasumi?"
Gosunkugi was pulling out several tomes, hoping to borrow them.
"Doctor... are you all right? You're crushing your mug in your
fist."
"Wh-what a-amazing circum-s-stance for us to... to be in the, uh,
same place at this t-time..."
Gosunkugi deigned to wait for the good doctor on the couch.
The voices seemed closer, and the doors were heard to have closed.
"Well, this is your clinic after all..."
He happened upon a file labeled "Hair" on the table.
"Oh, this is Akane's friend, Mousse."
"W-well, he's been a good p-patient. Haven't you, Mousse?"
Betty wasn't able to comment on Dr. Tofu's patting.
Gosunkugi noted that a sample of Ranma's hair was attached to the
file. "Ah? This would come in handy..."
"Dr. Tofu." The voice sounded soft, but with a stiff back to it.
Kasumi held Dr. Tofu's shoulder. "We need to talk."
Dr. Tofu's free arm shoved Mousse from off his bed, cutting his nap
time significantly.
Ukyo never felt quite as tense as this.
After leaving Ryoga a kettle in the storeroom, she opened up shop,
convinced that she wasn't going to let anything change her mood, which
now was quite confused.
So she opened up shop, late as it already was. The hubbub of
everyday life filled her, and she let it ring in her ears. Soon, orders
came in at a rate which pushed out anything else from her mind, and the
okonomiyaki sizzled on her grill without a sign of remorse.
That was two hours ago. As lunch hour loomed into view, her mind
grew restless, and posed a simple question.
Where was he?
He would have surely taken the opportunity to make tracks. After
all, the worst has come to worst, and, like it or not, he's toast.
She firmly decided to give him a clean getaway. If he left, she
wouldn't stop him. If he stayed, she wouldn't mind. They could easily
cover up this whole incident, and none would be worse for the wear.
No, she wasn't angry. It made too much sense.
Hmm. He probably wouldn't want to talk about it, then.
...
I wish he would.
I wish he'd just... leave.
The clang of the metal on concrete shrugged off her haze.
Ryoga stood up, leaving the kettle.
"I... we have to talk."
The man strode down Nerima's streets, humming a song.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
(Detach here)
Right after spending two solid months of writing the anniversary
side story for Tsubasa's "origin", I find myself rushing to meet the
schedule of a-month-a-chapter for the main Switch story. With me working
on 23 fanfic titles concurrently, only four of which being non-Ranma, I
find myself squaring against an ML up to its gills with Ranma fanfics.
(Does anybody know the address of Ranma ML?)
Anyways, with that load, I rest from writing Switch (in all three
books) until the end of the year. Instead, I'll be playing DBTFH with
the rest of the Zu. At the same time, I'll be tying out the first book
of One Man's Dream is Another's Undoing, co-writing the Tenchi/SailorMoon
meld with Scriviner, a GoldenBoy spinoff mystery series, and an
elseworlds story centering on Tsubasa.
Needless to say, I'll leave you guys with several cliffhangers.
All will be revealed in time. Someone still out there reading? I hope
so. I'm not even sure... I'll just keep'em coming! Watch out for low-
flying plotlines, though...
Halfway into day 2, we have the following standings:
Akane: locked in mortal combat with sister
Nabiki: locked in mortal combat with sister
Ryoga: in the Ucchan's, with Ukyo
Ukyo: busy in the Ucchan's, with Ryoga
Kasumi: at Dr. Tofu's, keeping Dr. Tofu company
Tofu: out to lunch, in present and projected future, with Kasumi
Betty: standing pretty, in Dr. Tofu's
Shampoo: asleep in the Cat Cafe, second floor
Tsubasa: with Kodachi, in the alley outside the Cat Cafe
Nodoka: last with the man, at the Saotome house
Kuno: making time for Akane and the pig-tailed goddess, somewhere
Sasuke: at the Kuno estate, throwing away evidence
Kodachi: making out with Tsubasa, outside the Cat Cafe
Mousse: waking up, at Dr. Tofu's
Mr. Turtle: tied up, at the Kuno estate
Gosunkugi: trying to get away with it, at Dr. Tofu's
Hinako: happily on her way to the Tendo-ke
The man: last seen spreading deceit and mystery at the Saotomes'
Next up, the flirty dozen. Are these titles going to get any
sillier? What does the man think he's doing? Will time really stop if
Nabiki gives away money? Will Kodachi find true love? Will Tsubasa get
out of the carton? Why is this getting so soapish? Where the hell are
Ranma, Genma, Soun, Cologne and Happosai? Will Dr. Tofu see eye-to-eye
with Kasumi before Gosunkugi takes it away? And, finally, what stories
can an empty house tell? Film at 11.
Please somehow send C&C.
(Detach here)
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