Shunsuke would like to see the FFML used for more than a
stepping stone to the r.a.a.c. I have a story I�m working on that I
need commentary on, so rather than look for prereaders, I�m
posting my first draft and asking for comments.
But I�ll place all that at the end, so people can just read this if
they want to.
Standard Takahashi disclaimers apply. I�m borrowing her
characters, and adding in a lot of my own stuff. No infringement
of her rights is intended, this is only a fan work, not for profit.
Seven Fianc�es
M A Davis / Miko
Chapter One: Enter The Okonomiyaki Chef
The boy wore a black school uniform, buttoned up the front,
with a nehru collar. He had thick black hair, falling in bangs over
his eyes, and tied back into a long, neat pony-tail at the neck. He
looked like a typical high school student, save for the large spatula
strapped to his back, and the bandolier of mini-spatula slung over
his shoulder.
He carried his books across campus. A trio of older, larger
boys trailed him, hurling taunts and insults.
"Hey, Miss, do I know you?"
"How's it going, little girl?"
"Watch out, little girl; at any moment a spider could come
along and bite you!"
"Better stay out of the biology lab. They've got snakes and
frogs and all sorts of horrible stuff in there."
"For a girl, she's pretty ugly, don't you think?"
When he failed to respond, or even look their way, the largest
of them moved to block his path.
"Going somewhere, little girl?" he asked.
"What's with the spatula, baby?" another asked. "Check it
out, guys, she must be something special in the kitchen, with all of
that hardware."
The largest one reached out and caressed his cheek. He
flinched away, but the hand cupped his chin and lifted it, so that
their eyes met.
"Is that true, little girl?" the large one said. "Are you a good
cook? You want to make someone a good wife, don't you?"
The boy flinched away again. "Don't touch me," he said,
voice low.
"Ooh!" the skinny one exclaimed. "Not too friendly there, is
she?"
"A real ice bitch, if you ask me."
"You know what we do to ice bitches, don't you, boys?"
The skinny one grinned. "Toss 'em into the girl's shower to
warm back up," he said.
The boy sighed. His books dropped to the pavement.
Reaching over his shoulder, he unlatched the massive spatula and
drew it, slowly.
"And what are you going to do with that, little girl?" the large
one asked. "Cook us to death?"
***
"Perhaps, Masaaki-kun," the limo driver said, "you should
have thought twice before putting three boys into the hospital."
Masaaki Kuonji leaned into comfortable leather seat, his
spatula across his knees. It wasn't even noon yet, and school was
out, at least for him and three others. The streets of downtown
Tokyo flashed past, full of shoppers with bags and dark-suited
salary-men heading out to lunch.
Masaaki considered the question briefly, then shrugged. "I
did think twice," he replied. "It was an even better idea the second
time around."
The driver glanced briefly to the heavens.
"I suppose what's done is done," he said. "But your mother
will not be pleased. I shall pick her up at Haneda Airport in one
hour, and I am certain she has already learned of your little
escapade. That gives you an hour and a half to consider what to
say to her. I suggest you use that time wisely."
The boy nodded. "Drop me off here, Yaba-san," he said.
"'Here', my good man, is two blocks short of our destination,"
the driver replied. "Were I to fail to see you safely to Uchan's, and
should something happen to you, your mother would have my head
on a platter."
"Nothing's gonna happen to me," the boy replied. "Jeez, one
minute you're blaming me for being too vicious, the next you're
afraid I'll get hurt. Don't you think I can take care of myself? You
sound just like my mother!"
"I highly doubt that, Masaaki-kun. May I ask why you wish to
be let off before we've arrived?"
"I want to surprise Maurice," the boy said, gripping his
spatula. "I can't do that if he sees us pull up out front."
"Of course, Masaaki-kun," the driver said, pulling the limo
over. "Although I can't say that I approve. At least that
disreputable cook has a thicker skull than your school friends
apparently do."
"They're not my friends," the boy said, hopping out the door.
"Catch ya later, Yaba-san!"
***
The sign in the window read "Uchan's". Behind the red neon,
outlined in gray, was the trademark spatula, Uchan's corporate
logo. This was their flagship store, in the heart of downtown
Tokyo, in the same building as the company headquarters.
Kitada-san had eaten lunch here every day since discovering it
two weeks ago. The food was fantastic, the service marvelously
entertaining, and as for the waitress....
Well, suffice it to say, if his own lovely Mura-chan knew how
he acted around this lovely girl, he would spend many nights
asleep on the living room floor.
He pushed the door open. As usual the place was packed, but
Takayo spotted him immediately. She led him to a seat at the bar,
where he heard the sizzle of the grill. The aroma of frying shrimp
and soy caressed his nose.
"How are you this day, Kitada-san?" she asked.
"Fine, fine, Takayo-chan," he said. She allowed him to call
her that -- she allowed all the regulars to call her that, but often he
dreamed that it was just him, that there was something special
between them. The overworked salary-man basked in her smile,
and felt the worries of the day, and the strain of his life at home,
melt away. For one hour, at least, he was in heaven.
Behind the large grill, a young man flipped okonomiyaki
expertly. He was an anomaly, very un-Japanese in look and
bearing, and in stark contrast to the businessmen that he
entertained. His hair was long and blond, and tied back in a pony-
tail. His chest was broad and his arms powerfully corded, and he
had a tan as deep as the Pacific Ocean. Tattoos adorned both
biceps, and gold earrings pierced his ears. On the wall behind him
were pictures of him surfing the waves in Hawaii, California, and
Australia. Other pictures were from his other travels. This chef,
half Kitada-san's age, had already seen more of the world than he
ever would.
"Hey there, Mr. Kitada sir!" the young man said. "The usual,
I assume?"
Kitada-san nodded. "Konichi-wa, Maurice-san. How are
you?"
"I'd be better if I were at the beach!" Maurice said with a grin.
He turned and yelled, "Order up! Two shrimp, one plain, hot and
ready!" His spatula moved with a blur, and okonomiyaki sailed
through the air like Frisbees at a park. Takayo leapt, her long,
light-blue hair trailing behind her like the tail of a comet, and
caught the okonomiyaki on three plates. In one continuous
motion, she deposited them before the amazed customers.
A round of applause followed. Kitada-san clapped too, and
Takayo blushed demurely, performed a quick curtsey, then turned
back to her work.
It took talent to be an Uchan's chef or waitress. The pay and
benefits were excellent, or so Kitada-san had heard.
His eyes lingered on her, watching every graceful movement.
How did the western song go? Ah, yes. Poetry in motion.
That was Takayo-chan, all right.
The chef cleared his throat, drawing Kitada-san's attention.
"Dream all you want," he said, his eyes dancing. "But don't take it
too far. You don't really know her, and if you did, it just might
shatter all of your beautiful illusions."
Kitada-san frowned. Was that meant as a warning, or a
threat? He already knew that Maurice and Takayo shared an
apartment. That didn't necessarily imply a romantic relationship,
but....
Kitada-san smiled to himself. He was, after all, married. He
had no intention of pursuing Takayo, no matter how captivating
she was.
His meal arrived, steaming, and he tore his eyes from the
beautiful sprite with the blue hair. His stomach growled in
anticipation, and he began to eat. He heard the tinkle of the bell as
the front door swung open, but when he turned to look, curious,
there was nobody there.
Without warning, Maurice shot straight up. Several
somethings whizzed by Kitada-san's ears, colliding with the far
wall. Kitada-san blinked. A half-dozen mini spatula quivered
there, having pierced several of Maurice's photos.
"Ha!" Maurice yelled. He landed on his feet, a giant spatula
in hand. Kitada-san blinked again. Where had that come from?
There was a blur of movement behind the chef. He started to
twist, to spin away, but something connected with his skull, and he
stumbled forward, nearly losing his balance.
"Merde! Madre Dios! Sonofabitch!" the chef cried out,
before realizing where he was. "Oh, sorry about the language,
guys...."
Kitada-san gripped the edge of the bar, ready to dive under it
or run for the door at a moment's notice. Instead, he saw a young
boy standing there, a massive spatula gripped casually in his hands.
He wore a typical school uniform and grinned like a madman.
"Gotcha, ya bastard!" the boy exclaimed.
Feeling the bump at the back of his head, Maurice smiled as
well. Then his face became serious, and he bowed deeply. "As
always, Master Masaaki, your skill far exceeds mine."
"Aw, come on, Maurice," the boy said. "Knock it off! No
need to act so formal!"
The chef grinned and grabbed the boy in a powerful hug.
"Masaaki, my man!" he exclaimed. "How ya doing? Oh, and
watch the language, kid, there are customer about."
A few customers began to clap nervously. Kitada-san joined
in, and the entire room erupted into applause. While the
businessman was not at all convinced that this was a normal part
of the show, he appreciated a display of great martial arts when he
saw one.
The boy sheathed his battle spatula and, moving as silently as
before, took the seat next to Kitada-san.
"One seafood special, Maurice," the boy said.
"Hai!" the chef called out. He flicked his wrist, and
something landed on the bar.
"Aaaaaigh!" the boy screamed and leapt to the far side of the
room, hands held before him as if to ward off a demons.
The chef laughed out loud. The object on the bar was nothing
more than a rubber spider, and a not-very-realistic one at that.
"Gotcha back!" the chef yelled. "Oooh, man, you should have seen
yourself, Masaaki!" The chef pried his eyes open wide in
pantomime.
"That's not funny!" the boy growled, returning to his seat.
"By the way, what's up? Que Pasa? Why aren't you in
school?"
The boy glared into the polished wood before him. "I got
kicked out," he said.
"Again?" Maurice asked. "What is it, now, four schools?
Five?"
"Only three," Masaaki said, a bit defensively. "Still, mom's
gonna kill me! I mean, there are only so many good private
schools around here, and with my past, some of the others have
already said no."
"How about St. Hebereke?" the chef asked.
Kitada-san almost choked on his food, excellent as it was.
"That!" he exclaimed, interrupting the two. "That... that's my
daughter's school! It's for girls only!"
Maurice nodded, grinning. "And?"
Kitada-san sputtered. "Are you deaf and blind? You can't
send a boy like this to an all-girl's school!"
"Relax, Mr. Kitada," the chef said. "Masaaki here makes a
really cute girl! I've seen him do it; the kid's a natural with
disguises. He gets it from his pop, same as the ninja tricks. Trust
me, if Masaaki wanted to, he could blend in at St. Hebereke and
nobody would ever know....
"Anyway," he said, turning back to his grill, "Takayo-chan
went there."
"Well, yes," Kitada-san said, "but, after all, she's a girl."
The chef only smiled in return. Suddenly, Kitada-san had a
sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"She is a girl, isn't she?" he asked. He looked over his
shoulder, sweat beading his forehead. *My god, I've been
fantasizing about her! What if she isn't... what if....*
No, that could never be. One glance at her, and you knew she
was female. No male could look like that.
The chef continued to grin. "Well," he said, "I could tell you
she was a guy, but that's not something you want to hear. So I
won't."
Which wasn't an answer at all.
"Anyway, I'm not going to St. Hebereke," the boy, Masaaki,
said. "I'm not going to any girl's school, Maurice. Just because I
can impersonate a girl, doesn't mean I want to. Especially not 24-
7!"
"Well, then," the chef said, "you might have to do public
school, my man." He flipped an okonomiyaki onto a plate and set
it before the boy. "Don't sweat it, kid. I did public school, and
look how I turned out!"
***
She had red hair, tied back into a long braid that fell past her
waist. She was impulsive, with a volatile temper. She was an
excellent martial artist, which was only expected, given her father.
Her name was Reiko Saotome. She didn't know that Masaaki
Kuonji existed.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. They'd met each other, several
times, but she'd barely noticed him. He studied the picture on the
wall of his mother's office, wishing he could get to know her
better....
She had four sisters, also in the picture, along with her mother
and father. Behind them was the dojo where her father taught a
specialized brand of martial arts. There were other pictures of her
father on the wall, but Masaaki ignored them.
A collage caught his eye. Masaaki was in the foreground, in
his school uniform and with his battle spatula peeking over his
shoulder. In the background was his mother, at age 16, his current
age. She wore a boy's school uniform, with battle spatula, and
looked so much like him that most thought it was him.
There were other pictures of himself, and of his mother and
father. One was of mom and dad before a small, hole-in-the-wall
restaurant: the very first Uchan's. Another showed his mother and
father at their wedding, over 15 years ago, and a third, of a
beautiful young girl that also happened to be his father.
Masaaki looked away, his eyes starting to mist. His father
had been so gentle, and so loving. He'd always been there, even as
mother's work slowly pulled her away... always, that was, until
eight months ago....
Masaaki sighed and stared out the window. What a strange
family he had! His mom, raised as a guy, his father, raised as a
girl. Even the family name was Mother's, since Dad had never had
one that he knew about....
The office door swung open. Someone stepped around the
large oak desk and sat behind it. She had long, dark hair, tied back
with a bow of gray satin, the same color as her business suit. She
crossed her arms.
"Hello, Son," she said..
"Hello, Mom," he replied. He'd been dreading this
confrontation. Her eyes were full of anger and hurt, but also
compassion and concern. Only a mother could look that way.
Ukyo Kuonji sighed, running her hands through her hair. "I
just got back from Sydney," she said, "and before my plane even
lands I've got a message from your Principal. Masaaki, you can't
keep doing this!"
"They were asking for it!" Masaaki blurted out, then looked
away. "Besides, I didn't break any bones or nothing. They'll be
okay."
"What was it this time?"
Masaaki grimaced. "Aw, mom, you know. The same thing as
always."
Ukyo sighed again. No one questioned her son's fighting
skills, not when he'd never lost a battle. He was also brave to the
point of stupidity, just like a certain pig-tailed boy from her past.
But when it came to slimy, creepy, crawly things, her son was
unreasonably terrified. She didn't have an answer for it, but it had
led to a number of fights with fellow students.
"Well," she said, "this is your third private school this year.
Six others have already turned you down."
"I know. Maurice suggested St. Hebereke...."
"Absolutely not!" Ukyo said, a little too loudly.
"It was a joke, Mom," Masaaki said. "He said I'd have to go
to a private school now."
Ukyo nodded. "That's true, but it's a problem. You won't be
able to live in a dorm, and I can't have you living on your own.
You know I'm too busy to be here for you all of the time -- in fact,
I have to fly to San Francisco in three days."
"Again?"
"Nabiki is bent on making U-Chan's a global enterprise. Her
new goal is 10,000 stores in the next ten years." Ukyo went to the
window and stared out over the city-scape. "I don't know,
Masaaki. When I formed the partnership, I really didn't anticipate
it being like this. I just don't know if I'm cut out to be the President
of a global conglomerate, as well as a single mother. I don't see
you as often as I'd like. It's been ages since I was actually behind a
grill. When I'm not in a meeting or on the phone, I'm flying to
Kami-knows-where. Nabiki is hounding me to improve my
English skills, but I honestly don't know when I'll find the time."
She turned back, her eyes sad and wet. "Sometimes I think...
I think I'm still running away... from you, from the pain...."
"Aw, Mom," Masaaki said. Then he was around the desk,
holding her, wrapping his arms about her tightly. "Don't cry,
Mom. I'll be allright, and I'll always be here for you, even if
Dad...."
"I know," Ukyo said returning her son's fierce hug. "I know,
my son."
For a long time they just held each other, then Ukyo released
her son, slowly. She placed a kiss upon his head.
"Won't be much longer I can do that," she said with a grin.
"You're growing up fast!"
Masaaki nodded in embarrassment.
"Well," Ukyo said, "I spoke with Ranma and Akane Saotome
a half hour ago. With the house and dojo completely remodeled,
they have rooms for eight or ten students to live there full-time.
They're willing to take you in, Masaaki, if you like. You'd have to
become Ranma's student, but you couldn't hope to find a better
master than him. You'd attend Furinkan High, my old school...."
Her voice trailed off wistfully.
Masaaki's eyes got very, very big. "You mean, I'd be living
with... with their whole family?"
His mother nodded. "Five girls," she said. "It'd be very
different for you. Do you think you'd like that?"
But Masaaki was thinking about one girl only. "Yeah, Mom,"
he said, his mind spinning. "I think I'd like it very much...."
End Chapter One
Okay, here�s some info and some questions.
When I wrote "Decisions" I said that I wasn't going to turn it
into a longer series. For one thing, trying to create and introduce
so many new characters would be a nightmare, right? So I made
myself very clear, right at the outset. It was just a stupid, and
poorly written, one-shot.
Then people started writing back. I got more commentary on
this one little story as on any single thing I've yet posted. William
Jones, Mark Ferrer, skeezy5, Jonathan Ng, Ryan Erik, and Scott
Pollert all encouraged me to continue this. Heck, even that smiling
critic guy under the bridge kind of challenged me to do it, by
saying that it couldn't be done.... ^_^
So here I am. I'm going to take it slowly, as with the original
manga, and introduce a few characters at a time. I�m going to
stick to short chapters. The rewritten "Decisions" will become
Chapter Three, and I have ten or twelve chapters plotted, so far.
Hope you enjoy the ride!
The questions I have are as follows.
Is the third scene unnecessary? Should I not use a faceless
customer to tell it? I�m introducing some of the background for
Ukyo�s restaurant, and some background characters who I�ll use
again later (the chef Maurice and the waitress Takayo-chan), but
maybe I should wait until later to do all of that.
I could ax the second scene as well. All I really need to
establish is that Masaaki gets kicked out of school and is being
sent off to live at the Saotome Dojo, under the same roof as the
Saotome daughter he�s infatuated with. I need to take enough time
to establish his character, but that could conceivably be done in
two scenes, maybe allowing the first two scenes of chapter two (he
arrives at the dojo and gets settled in) to be moved up into chapter
one.
Anyway, I kind of think I should chop this section down, in
order to stay focused, but I need someone else to tell me that
because I haven�t convinced myself yet. ^_^
Any other comments or ideas would be greatly appreciated!
Miko!
"When I use a word," Humpty Dumpty said, in a rather a scornful tone, "it
means just what I choose it to mean -- neither more nor less."
"The question is," said Alice, "whether you can make words mean so many
different things."
"The question is," said Humpty Dumpty, "which is to be master -- that's
all."
(Lewis Carroll, Through The Looking-Glass)
Nausicaa@sprynet.com Belldandy@angelic.com
Anime rpg at http://come.to/akane/
Fan Fiction at http://listen.to/bell/