This is the second draft, with almost all of the corrections
suggested and some other reworking. Some places the grammar is
still a tiny bit rough unintentionally (as opposed to where it's
intentional ;). And as an added bonus, with your purchase of part
one you get the brand new glossary *absolutely free*. Act now,
this low, low cost can only be offered for a limited time.
For those of you who accidentally missed them the first time and
commented about the "nature" of the content, please read the warnings
and disclaimers this time. They're there for a very good reason.
As always, enjoy it if you wish and thank you for reading.
-DaR
BML Productions
Warning: This fan fiction work is appropriate for mature audiences
only. Reader discretion is highly advised.
in conjunction with
Sick and Twisted Bastards United
Disclaimer: This is a work of fantasy set in an imaginary world
with fictional characters. The events contained within may be
impossible, illegal, or immoral in real life. Additionally,
significant issues and concerns are conveniently ignored for the
sake of the story. This is only words. Really.
present
a DamnWrong fic
in the world of Takahashi Rumiko's Ranma 1/2
I claim no ownership of any of the situations, characters, or
background material appearing in this story. Even the ones I did
happen to create.
Ishi o Tsukau
written by DaR
$Date: 1998/09/22 07:09:38 $
$Revision: 0.10 $
Part One: Ascension and Discovery
That in our proper motion we ascend
Up to our native seat: descent and fall
To us is adverse.
John Milton, "Paradise Lost"
***
"DIE, YOU PERVERTED OLD FREAK!"
Ranma chased Happousai into the master's room, trying to recover
his shirt and Akane's underwear. Bouncing off the wall, the pint
sized martial artist aimed himself directly at Ranma's, currently
female, chest. However, after long experience fighting the master,
Ranma anticipated the move, already reversing directions and rolling
backwards. He grabbed the outstretched arms and flung his opponent
upwards. The little freak catapulted towards the ceiling, bounced
badly, and came straight back down. As Happousai fell, Ranma
completed his roll and was ready. When the master dropped past
Ranma's chest, his nominal pupil unloaded a mighty kick, punting
him out the open window and over the fence surrounding the Tendou
dojo.
With deep satisfaction Ranma watched him fly off, absently rubbing
his shoulder. He'd rolled over something pointy during that last
throw. Looking down, he kicked aside part of the master's futon,
revealing an oddly bound book. <Wonder what the old freak has
found this time,> he thought as he crouched down to get a closer
look. Unwilling to actually touch the tome yet, he examined the
imprinting on the leathery cover. For some reason it seemed to
cry out, begging to be opened and read, a novel sensation for Ranma.
Absorbed in examining the artifact, he missed the return of the
now extremely annoyed Happousai. In fact, the little martial artist
was downright infuriated, not even attempting to glomp Ranma's
still bare and still female chest. The master didn't pause to
threaten his student as was his habit. He just leapt straight in
with a pair of quick jabs and a shoulder throw that sent Ranma out
on the trajectory he'd traveled but a moment before.
Ranma tumbled through the air, then hit the ground. Breaking his
momentum in an instinctive fashion, he rolled to absorb the impact.
As he tried to recover from the dual shock of the tome and the
sudden and furious assault by Happousai, he took stock of where he
was. There was a rock wall behind him, no, under him. Lying on
the ground on his back, he realized. Opening his eyes he looked
up, receiving his third sanity jarring surprise in a very short
period. Above him stood Akane, his head resting more or less on
her shoes. His eyes traced up the inside of her calf, across the
knee and then on upwards over and past the creamy white inner thigh.
Then his brain froze.
Looking down at her erstwhile fiancee, Akane started to simmer.
After all, she'd just been groped by that freaky pervert Happousai
and had her panties stol....... Ranma. Ground. Skirt. Panties.
Stolen. Pervert. Fiancee. No panties. Ranma on ground.
Ranma never had a chance. A small trickle of blood from his nose
announced the utter and complete lack of higher cognition. His
eyes were wide and his whole body was stiff as a board.
Akane's battle aura went from simmer to rapid boil in under a tenth
of second. Witnesses would later swear the violet and blue glow
was so bright it blotted out the sun momentarily and wilted flowers
behind glass three blocks away.
"YOU STUPID PERVERT!"
And away Ranma went like a cruise missile, still stiff as a board.
As he sailed through the air, bare chested, in his cursed form,
and with his shirt clutched in one hand, he looked very, very
stunned. It was an impressive kick for a girl who had been trying
to hold her skirt tight around her legs.
***
Sitting on the edge of the water fountain, Ranma absentmindedly
wrung out his shirt. His eyes were still somewhat wide and glazed,
and none of the usual muttered comments about 'tomboy' or 'uncute
fiancee' could be heard. Those people passing by either gawked at
his half nude female form or at the simple fact that Saotome Ranma
had landed in water and hadn't immediately jumped out cursing
someone's name (like Akane's). In fact, he seemed to be blushing
fairly heavily.
Shrugging the shirt on, he turned and wandered away, not really
headed anywhere in particular. The citizens of Nerima, who had
witnessed this rather momentous occasion, exchanged worried glances.
Something was up, something big. Several people scurried off to
make sure their insurance premiums were all paid up.
As he walked, Ranma tried to figure out why he was feeling so...
dazed, no... confused, no... aroused, yes that was it. It wasn't
as if he'd never seen Akane nude before, but those incidents were
generally at a distance, or she had been grasping a towel, submerged
in the water, or otherwise partially covered. The look he'd gotten
today was quite a bit closer and a lot more intimate than any
previous. All the insults he used to keep his distance didn't
change the fact that Akane was one fine looking girl, strike that,
woman. And despite his posturing about being better looking, he'd
never been comfortable enough with the curse to explore his female
form in any sort of detail.
***
Akane sat on her bed, alternately fuming and trying to keep from
sobbing. <How could he? How could he do that to me?>
It had not been a good day for the youngest Tendou. To start things
off on the wrong foot, Ranma had insulted her cooking again at
breakfast, and the resulting fight had made her late for school.
The attack by Kodachi the previous evening had kept her from studying,
so she'd done poorly on her tests. At lunch, Ranma's two bimbos
showed up and had taken turns insulting her and glomping onto him.
Then after school that shriveled up excuse for a martial arts master
had molested her and her friends and stolen their panties. While
they were in them no less. Then, the icing on the cake, while trying
to get home with her decency intact, that... that.... pervert ended
up staring straight up her skirt.
The sobbing took over for a minute, until she heard a soft knock
on the door. Kasumi, it had to be. <Just great,> she thought.
"Akane, can I come in?"
She had half a mind to scream 'No, go away' at the top of her lungs,
but she couldn't. Nobody screamed at Kasumi. Ever.
"Please, Akane?"
With a defeated sigh, she opened the door and let her elder sister
into the room. She returned to her bed and sat, looking up at
Kasumi with bleary eyes. The question formed in the older Tendou
girl's mouth as she sat down next to her, and Akane already knew
what it was. Her mind sluggishly turned over answers, failing to
find one before the words took to the air.
"What's wrong Akane? What happened?"
Too much, it was too much. With a sorrowful wail, she buried her
face in her older sister's shoulder. Akane let out her grief in
Kasumi's warm, comfortable embrace, unloading the accumulated stress
on the one person who always understood, who always cared. She
let the hand stroking her hair and the low humming calm her raging
emotions.
A scuffling sound caused Kasumi to look up. Nabiki stood by the
door, face neutral, but she could read the embarrassment and concern
beneath that mask. With a slight shake of her head she sent the
middle sister on her way.
***
Ranma hesitated in front of the door to the house, not sure if he
was ready to face the rest of his 'family', let alone Akane. He
blushed a bit deeper as a flashback ran through his mind. Finally
he stepped through, and with a sigh of relief was not set upon by
either Soun or his father. He could imagine the demon head his
fiancee's father would pull if Akane had told him what happened.
<On second thought, he might just cry and make wedding arrangements.>
The elder Tendou was sometimes hard to figure for Ranma.
Ghosting through the house, he noticed the kettle in its customary
spot on the stove, though the burner beneath wasn't on. He faded
back into the living room as he heard footsteps on the stairs.
Nabiki walked by, stopping briefly at the door to put on her shoes
and announce to anyone listening that she was going, and then left.
Looking around, he saw neither his father or Mr. Tendou, nor Kasumi,
come to think of it. Happousai's door was shut as well. Somehow,
the house felt very empty. He entered the bathroom and turned on
the hot water tap on the sink, waiting for it to warm up enough.
The wait was enough time for his subconscious to dredge up that...
horrible... no, not horrible... that... that... image. Every
time he saw it flash over the insides of his eyelids he grew more
uncomfortable. In more ways than one.
Finally the water had reached the necessary temperature. With
little ceremony he filled a glass and upended it over himself,
feeling the familiar transformation take hold. It didn't hurt,
but even after all this time it gave him cold shivers when it
happened, the stretching of bone and tissue, the rearranging of
internal organs, the sudden shift in his center of gravity. Then
it was over.
Having his normal, if damp, shape back, he became aware of one other
slight problem he didn't have to deal with while wearing his female
body. <If Akane or Mr. Tendou catches me in this state, I'm a
goner, not that I've got a chance to begin with.> With a couple
of deft adjustments the problem was less immediately apparent,
though not gone completely.
Ranma heard the door to Akane's room open, and someone came down
the stairs and went into the kitchen, moving lightly but surely.
<That would be Kasumi> he thought. Several moments passed and no
other movement could be heard in the house, so he slipped out of
the bathroom and crept up the stairs, being careful to avoid the
several squeaky planks. At the top of the stairs he paused, looking
slightly left towards Akane's room, and then down the hall to the
guest room that was his. The carved wooden duck on her door stared
back balefully, full of accusation. The image flashed through his
mind again and he almost stumbled, reaching a hand out to steady
himself. He was almost to her door when he heard the soft click
that was assuredly his doom.
Panic momentarily gripped Ranma as the door swung open to reveal
his... Akane. His mouth tried to stammer an apology, but his
traitor brain went on vacation and refused to supply words. Instead
he looked away from her completely, his blush deepening. Without
uttering a word he rushed past her, nearly diving into the safety
of his own room. He collapsed on his futon, exhausted for no
reason. Curling into a ball, a confused and flustered Saotome
Ranma tried to fall asleep.
***
Stepping out of his room, Ranma still felt somewhat weary and a
little more than somewhat uncomfortable. He couldn't seem to get
the thought of what he'd seen earlier out of his mind. Trying not
to think about it only made it worse. Something to distract him
from it, that's what he needed. A little more sure of himself, he
went downstairs, hoping his Pop was around for a little sparring
session. A little voice mentioned that Akane might be around, but
he squashed it ruthlessly, not wanting to think about it.
Unfortunately neither his father nor Soun was around, and he deflated
a bit. He turned towards the kitchen hoping to grab a quick snack
before dinner started. <Curses, foiled again,> he thought. Kasumi
had already started preparations for dinner. He hesitated, still
not sure that he wanted to get into a discussion of what had happened
before he came to grips with it himself. On the other hand, Kasumi
was certainly least likely to hit him, pound him, scream at him,
or extort money from him. <Guess we risk it.>
"Hello Ranma." She didn't really look up from her task.
"Good afternoon Kasumi." He winced as he said it. Kasumi without
a beaming smile was a rare sight indeed. <She's probably mad that
I upset Akane.>
Silence reigned for a few moments, while Ranma grew steadily more
fidgety. "I'm really sorry about this, Kasumi."
That at least earned him a ghost of a smile. "I'm not sure I'm
the one you should be apologizing to, Ranma."
Ranma hung his head, trying unsuccessfully to get a grip on his
whirling mind. As he stared at the floor he heard Kasumi go back
to her cooking. He looked up just as Kasumi crossed the kitchen
to retrieve something from the refrigerator, and just as she leaned
in to fetch it out, his mind replayed the image that had been haunting
him all afternoon. He was petrified, unable to accept that he'd
had such a thought about Kasumi. He turned and fled, absolutely
unwilling to look the one person who treated him truly decently in
the face after that.
***
The afternoon sunlight danced on the clouds, twisting them into
wonderful shapes that the supine Ranma ignored completely. It had
been an overwhelming day for Saotome, all things considered. Heir
to the Musabetsu Kakutou Ryuu, likely inheritor of the Tendou Dojo
until today, and now the lowest pervert in the world. <Even Master
Happousai wouldn't sink so low as to think about Kasumi like that>.
The more Ranma thought about it, the more this confused him. Kasumi
was beautiful, easily the best looking of the Tendou sisters. She
didn't have raw magnetism like Nabiki, and wasn't cute like Akane,
but she was far prettier than either and had an incredible aura of
perfect innocence about her. Asides from shopping and the occasional
visit to borrow books from Tofu-sensei at the clinic, she didn't
go out at all. Ranma would have figured her to be surrounded by
suitors, being nearly ideal material for a wife in every way. At
times he almost wished he'd been engaged to her instead of Akane.
<Argh! I'm doing it again.> He ripped his thoughts away from his
current fiancee's older sister. A distraction was what he needed,
maybe he'd go get one of his manga. No, mustn't risk going inside
now, besides he'd already read them all several times over. He
sat up and stretched slightly and felt a tiny twinge in his shoulder.
He wondered why until he remembered rolling over that odd book
during his fight earlier. <Now that was one strange piece of work.>
For a long while he watched the light play across the sky as evening
began to set. His thoughts kept returning to the book, wondering
what it could possibly be, and why the master had it in his room.
As he sat he recalled the sensation that seemed to be the book
calling to him, offering him depths of knowledge no one else would
see.
***
Ranma paused outside the master's room, listening carefully for
any signs that he might be inside. Nothing. Carefully sliding
the door open, he slipped inside, shutting it behind him as quietly
as possible. The tome was still there, lying on the floor next to
the futon, just as it had been earlier. A brief scan of the rest
of the room revealed no surprises waiting. Again he crouched next
to the book without touching it, examining its surface. Finally
he forced himself to reach out.
He stopped short, letting his hand float just above the surface,
unsure if his course of action was the right one. The bound pages
still seemed to call to him, begging to be read, explored, understood.
It was a very unfamiliar sensation to Ranma, who understood the
physical things of the world far more than the academic. But it
did feel right.
He grabbed the ancient manuscript, for some reason surprised that
simply holding it didn't kill him, grant a cosmic revelation, or
both. It was heavy and solid, the pages were a thick parchment,
and the binding was tough and flexible. The leather cover was
rough, but the edges had been smoothed by many hands over many
years. He held it tightly, readying himself to open it, then
stopped. <No, I should get out of here, in case the old freak
comes back>.
Ranma stood carefully, holding the book across his chest with both
arms. He slid back out of the room, taking care to make sure
everything was exactly like he had found it. He practically skipped
down the hall, eager to get away and inspect his treasure. As he
hit the main living area he heard Kasumi's contented humming coming
from the kitchen as she chopped vegetables for dinner. Rather than
risk an encounter now, he turned around, heading for the back yard
and the dojo.
He was halfway across the short gravel path separating the two
buildings when he heard a cry that made his spirit rise.
"RANMA! I'LL KILL YOU!"
Here was something he knew how to deal with. No need to feel
embarrassed, no complicated emotions, just the smooth perfection
of the Fight, the pure focus of the Art. He leapt to the side,
allowing the descending Ryouga to hit the ground fist first. The
resulting crater was quite impressive. <Hmm, this should be fun.>
He wasn't at his best, his concentration was understandably shaken
and he was clutching the book protectively to his chest to prevent
it from being damaged.
The eternally lost boy rose from his kneeling position, still
looking down at the crater and mouthing threats that Ranma didn't
bother to hear. "Yeah, you wish, P-chan." Bingo. Ryouga's battle
aura flared brightly and he darted towards him with a fist cocked
and an incredibly loud battle cry. Ranma stood his ground calmly,
watching the headlong rush with narrowed eyes.
Just as the pig boy was about to lash out, Ranma went down backwards,
improvising another variant of the tomoe nage throw, he'd used on
Happousai earlier. As he fell he planted a foot in Ryouga's wide
open stomach, flexed it slightly, and then pushed with all his
might. Overcommitted to the punch, Ryouga couldn't halt his momentum
or prevent the throw and went over his opponent in an arc, landing
heavily on his back.
Using the momentum from the throw, Ranma leapt to his feet, still
holding the book tightly. Ryouga was already scrambling to his
feet, slightly out of breath from the impact, but still very much
ready to do damage to his adversary. He came in swinging again,
forcing Ranma to duck and weave to avoid being struck. The quicker
boy danced back, throwing the occasional kick to keep distance.
"Dammit, fight me, Ranma!" The lost boy was getting even more
frustrated than usual. He couldn't hit Ranma at all, which wasn't
all that unusual in and of itself, but there was no offense from
his opponent at all, just a few flailed legs to keep him from
closing. Swing, swing, miss, miss. Ryouga's fury grew with each
swipe. Finally he bellowed, "Stand still so I can beat you for
what you did to poor Akane!"
Ranma froze like a deer caught in headlights, landing flat-footed.
The next swing from the enraged Ryouga caught him absolutely flush
on the jaw. He went flying backward, propelled by the force of
the blow, and slammed into the wall surrounding the Tendou property.
His face hurt terribly, but somehow it didn't seem all that important,
nor was the pulsing ache of his back and ribs.
Confused, Ryouga looked at his outstretched fist. He never hit
Ranma full force, it just didn't happen. It was rare enough to
hit the slippery bastard at all, and usually only when he was lining
up some sort of strike of his own, but at best those were glancing
shots. He'd just laid on on him at full strength. A thought
filtered through his brain, Ranma had frozen when he'd mentioned
the dastardly things he'd done to Akane. His rage snapped full on
again and he rushed towards the wall, ready to destroy Ranma for
his recent misdeeds.
Ryouga's moment of confusion was all that saved Ranma from a lot
more pain. He was still groggy, but he managed to spin out of the
way of a concrete crushing punch, ducking and rolling away from
the wall to gain some room to maneuver. His mind was still trying
to puzzle out how lost boy could possibly know about it already.
The answer came from his opponent, saving him the brain power.
"How dare you make Akane cry after she made that food especially
for you!"
Relief flooded through Ranma. <Whew, he's still mad about the
other day. No way pig boy would keep the secret, and the last
thing I need is for the whole town to know>. He dodged a couple
of more strikes, feeling them pass closer than he would have liked.
The damage he'd taken was slowing him down, he needed to end this
fight now and get someplace where he could recover.
Hopping onto the wall, he tossed a couple of random insults at
Ryouga and then dropped down on the other side, landing in the
street. He raced around the corner as Ryouga thundered mightily
and ran straight through the wall, knocking chunks of rock and
concrete everywhere. The chase ended up taking several minutes
since Ranma wasn't at full capacity, and was still holding the tome
as well. Finally, he doubled back on himself quickly enough that
the soon-to-be lost boy ran right past him and through another set
of walls. As the sound of breaking brick and rock moved away, he
sighed and headed for his favorite thinking spot under the bridge.
***
Opening the aged tome randomly and leafing through the yellowed
pages, Ranma could make out nothing of importance. The characters
of the writing looked like nothing he'd ever seen before in all
his travels, and most of the diagrams were foreign to any of his
limited schooling. As he flipped through the pages, it became
apparent the book was actually composed of many sections, each in
a slightly different style of writing and drawing, perhaps written
by different people. Two of the chapters seemed to strike him as
more intelligible than the others. The first didn't really make
sense, but the second was apparently a martial arts manual, complete
with stylized drawings of people performing various blocks and
strikes.
With a single-minded intensity, he began to read the pages, mentally
performing the techniques described. The fighting style was simple
and straightforward, without a lot of flash. It reminded him a
lot of some of the more traditional forms of karate. There didn't
seem to be any new techniques and most of the kata and patterns
were ones he'd learned or seen. However, he could see that a master
in this form would be fairly well balanced and capable of holding
their own in fights against any opponents at, or even slightly
above, their own skill level.
Despite all his other faults and shortcomings, Ranma was easily
one of the best practitioners of the Art on the planet. He was
well beyond Ryouga and the others his age and even Happousai was
only a moderate challenge any more. Cologne could best him on a
fairly regular basis, and he still took pride in a victory over
her, but many of her wins came from the experiences of an incredibly
long life and a vast knowledge beyond the Art itself. Pressure
points were within the realm of the Art, but potions, spices, and
magical artifacts weren't, and Cologne sometimes resorted to those
to squeak out a victory. Occasionally someone like Herb or Saffron
came along with a new style or killer technique that put him off
for a match or two, but few could provide a challenge once he
adapted to their style. Then he'd adopt their strengths, their
good techniques, and at the same time, remove any newly revealed
weaknesses from his own style.
Somewhat disappointed that the manual hadn't revealed any great
secrets, he flopped back on the bank of the river, randomly flipping
through the remainder of the book. As he turned back, he came
across the other section that had struck a chord in him. Staring
at the characters and diagrams was a slightly maddening experience,
he could *almost* make them out if he wasn't focusing, but as soon
as he looked closer they became nonsense again. Then it hit him.
The sensation was almost exactly the same as he felt when first
trying to summon the ki necessary for techniques like the mouko
takabisha or hiryu shoten ha. That same sort of desperate grasping
he'd made before learning to simply relax and draw the power into
himself as a matter of habit.
Some people occasionally accused Ranma of being stupid, but that
was mostly a judgment of his academic performance and somewhat
undeveloped social skills. His mind made the leap nearly immediately,
<This is a manual of ki techniques!> Slipping into the correct
state of relaxed focus, he started over from the beginning of the
section, trying to absorb the feeling of the text rather than the
exact literal meaning. As he read he found some moves that felt
familiar: there was a projectile like the shi shi houkoudan or
his own mouko takabisha, a variant of the hiryu shoten ha that used
pure ki instead of temperature at a cost of more energy, and a sort
of shield barrier. He marveled at the power of Art the creators
of this tome must have wielded, he doubted he would have been able
to generate the life force necessary to hold such a shield for more
than a couple of seconds. <Perhaps if I focused it into a small
shield instead of a full body dome....>
His mind began to explore the possibilities of such a move, and he
idly flipped back and forth through the pages, not really paying
attention to them. <Hmm... I think this might be able to stand up
to a....> He cut the thought off abruptly, then flipped back a
page. Holding absolutely still, he let his mind wrap around the
odd characters, trying to divine their meaning. The technique
seemed to be different than most of the others, the image he felt
was of the ki coming from the target, only to be expelled in wave.
He savored it, performing it in his mind, trying to feel exactly
what it did, to grasp how it would be effective.
Again, it hit him suddenly. The ki in the backlash was subtly
different, and when it hit the opponent there would be a tremendous
shock, paralyzing them in place. Only the best masters of spirit
would be able to fight off the effects immediately, and those
without any awareness of their internal strength would never be
able to do so unaided. Slowly closing the book, Ranma tried to
come to terms with what this meant. With this technique Kunou and
Mousse dropped completely out of his league, fights with them could
get deadly if he got carried away. Ryouga could snap himself out
in a few moments, but with the kachuu tenshin amaguriken that's
all it took to put even Pig Boy out of a fight. Happousai and
Cologne would have enough control of their own spirit to shrug it
off in no time and might even be able to shield from it after the
first few uses, but even a momentary hesitation was enough to get
a leg up against the old freaks.
Ranma stood slowly, handling the book with even more respect than
he'd used earlier. Returning to the street, he walked aimlessly,
still mulling over the possibilities of the new techniques. Before
long he had drifted into the local shopping area, and a quick look
around began to gel the plan that was forming in his mind. There
was no way he could take the manual back to the house. Happousai
would either try to recover it, or someone else would stumble upon
it. The thought of Ryouga "the walking ki factory" with some of
these techniques was downright frightening. He wondered briefly
why the old master hadn't ever used any of the techniques on him.
<Maybe he only just found this book,> he thought, unable to come
up with any other explanation.
Entering a sporting goods store, he walked up and down the aisles
til he found what he was looking for. The backpack wasn't all that
large, but it was sturdy, brown, and claimed to be completely
waterproof. He could care less about the padding, ergonomic design,
sporty styling, and other hype that covered the various tags dangling
off it. He checked the straps and stitching, tugging and stretching
to make sure everything would hold up. On his way toward the
counter he picked up an oilcloth as well. He was so mentally
engrossed with what he was about to do he never noticed that the
bag was now the single most expensive item he'd ever owned, or that
his wallet was now dangerously thin.
He stopped outside the shop for a moment, crouching down on the
ground. Spreading the oilcloth, he placed the ancient manuscript
in the center, deftly folding the extra material up and around it,
tying the corners in a proper knot. The new package was slipped
into the backpack itself, which was zippered, clipped, tied, and
then slung on his back as he stood back up. Ranma grinned to
himself, and with a much more purposeful stride, headed towards
Furinkan High school.
It didn't take him long to get there, which suited him fine, as he
was impatient to get his plan underway. He circled around the
school campus, then hopped over the protecting wall, landing lightly
on the ground inside. There was a small copse of trees on this
side of the main building, the same ones he'd retreated to on his
first day of school during the battle with Kunou. He looked around,
examining the structure of the trunks and branches of each tree.
<There, these two should do,> he thought, leaping into the branches
of the first.
The shorter tree had limbs starting just at the height Ranma could
reach with an easy jump, but they were well out of reach for most
of the students and groundskeepers. The second tree had no low
branches at all, so Ranma hopped up the branches of the first until
he was high enough, then sprung across to the second tree. He
climbed up the branches of the taller tree until he felt them start
to bend slightly under his weight. Looking down, he figured he
was almost 12 meters off the ground, good enough for his needs.
He sat down on the limb and shrugged the backpack off his shoulder,
then began to unfasten the ties and harnesses for the straps.
Humming softly to himself as he worked, he tried to extend his
plans for his new training program. He'd practiced the Art, and
more recently taught himself, enough to know that trying to
incorporate too much into his fighting style at once would actually
hamper his effectiveness, rather than increase it. Since he'd
gotten to the point where he could beat most of the people around
him consistently, he'd had to come up with ways to make the fights
a learning experience for himself as well as his opponent. So he
limited himself, picking facets of a form to work on, trying to
make them fit seamlessly into the rest of his style, rather than
simply go all out and finish the fight. He worked leaping and
kicks on his father, endurance building and throws against Ryouga,
speed and dodging against Mousse, tactics and disabling strikes on
Kunou, and then mixed them up again the next time he fought.
Finally the backpack's straps were disassembled. He reached around
the trunk of the tree carefully, grabbing several of the straps
out of his other hand. At this height the tree's diameter was
about the same as his own body, so when he pulled everything tight
the backpack nestled against the tree as well as it had against
him. The straps and makeshift harnessing were quickly fastened
and buckled and a couple of tugs convinced Ranma that it wasn't
going to fall off anytime soon. He double-checked all his preparations
and then dropped backwards off the branch. The brief moment of
free fall made his soul soar, and he held off as long as possible
before grabbing a branch and swinging around it like a gymnast on
a high bar. Momentum safely arrested, he let go and fell the rest
of the way to the soft earth below.
A quick walk around the base of the tree from varying distances
proved that the combination of leaves, branches, and brown nylon
hid it well, even knowing where to look, Ranma had trouble picking
it out. Satisfied that no one could find the book unless they knew
exactly where it was, he headed for home. Moving at a far more
sedate pace than his normal roof hopping, he mentally ran a series
of fights, figuring out where the optimal place to insert the new
technique was. Used right it would pin his a opponent like a
butterfly. Choushi, 'pin the butterfly'. Ranma was pleased,
he even liked his name for the new technique.
***
Nabiki closed the ledger and slumped back in her seat, allowing
herself a quick moment of relaxation. Her left hand idly massaged
her temple as she thought, and she drummed the desktop with her
right in unconscious irritation. Saotome had gone too far this
time, that much was sure. The sight of Akane crying on Kasumi's
lap had given rise to a host of emotions that Nabiki normally kept
locked in chains and buried deep inside in the cool concrete and
steel that she presented to the world. Concern, pity, sympathy,
and perhaps worst of all, love. And as much as she'd deny it
publicly, the up and coming businesswoman did care for her family.
Now she had to figure out what to do about the macho jock who seemed
to make upsetting her younger sister his sole goal in life....
She couldn't take things too far, his crimes were more stupidity
and ignorance than maliciousness or perversity, despite what Akane
sometimes claimed. On the other hand, a little of the humiliation
and embarrassment he'd cause her sister might do good to deflate
that massive ego. Who knew, it might even bring the two of them
closer together in the long run. And that's what her sister really
wanted, even if she would never admit it, wasn't it?
***
Dusk started to cast its spell across Nerima, slowly darkening
the sky, deepening the hue of colors in everything its light touched
before slowly sapping them away. Ranma strolled along the street
as the overhead lights began to sputter and flicker to life,
outlining harsh circles of light on the pavement below. He was
hungry, and all the events in a rather busy day had conspired to
keep him away from Kasumi's dinner at the Tendou dojo. He considered
his options, and immediately discarded both the Nekohanten and
Ucchan's. Akane was going to be plenty angry with him already
without practically slapping her in the face by eating at a restaurant
owned by another of his nominal fiancees.
The earlier shopping trip had indeed drained his wallet more than
he would have liked, so his choices were somewhat limited. With
a mental shrug and a sigh he veered out of traffic at the next
ramen stand he found, ducking under the curtain and seating himself
at the counter. It was after the worst of the normal dinner rush,
so the proprietor actually smiled and nodded at him as he sat and
began to examine the menu. He looked a moment, deciding on the
pork special with extra meat, only to change his mind at the last
second. Instead he called out for an order of the house special.
<Pork is the last thing I need to be thinking about now,> he thought
with wry amusement.
As the shadows lengthened behind him and people scurried by, he
sat, looking at his hands. Getting himself out of this mess was
going to require a lot of work, a lot of pain, or most likely both.
The look Akane had given him in the hall that afternoon hurt more
than any hundred punches or dining room tables. Her lack of anger
spelled out her distress in giant flaming letters that even the
socially dense Ranma could read. He wished she was just angry, he
could deal with that, had been doing so for the entire time he'd
known her. A couple of quick insults and then stand still and take
what she thought he had coming.
"Cheer up okyakusama, it can't be all bad." The bowl of ramen slid
under his hands, the wisps of steam warm against his cool skin.
Ranma smiled his thanks at the man barely older than himself and
then returned his contemplation to the food in front of him. He
muttered the ritual "itadakimasu" to himself as he broke the
chopsticks apart, then took hold of the bowl. The eating utensils
flashed, snatching up a piece of meat to be held in the cooling
stream of air from his mouth.
When the morsel had cooled just enough he popped it in his mouth,
savoring the taste on his tongue. He sucked the broth off it
carefully, and let the cooked flesh dissolve into shreds before
swallowing it with exaggerated care. The ramen cook beamed as his
customer nodded appreciation of the fare, and then returned to his
work, slicing and chopping vegetables for the next batch of customers.
Ranma watched carefully for a moment, noticing how the rhythm was
different from, yet the same as, the one Kasumi used for preparing
dinner in her kitchen. And just like her, the cook hummed to
himself, keeping time with the flashing knife in a ditty that was
made up on the spot, but as old as the hills.
The young man put aside his troubles, concentrating instead on his
meal. He ate slowly, glacially slow for him, enjoying the food
for its own sake. Chopped carrots and onion, cubes of chicken,
wafer thin slices of beef, bits of shrimp, and of course the noodles
themselves all disappeared by the mouthful. Sipping at the still
hot broth sent delicious tendrils of warmth through him. Despite
his pacing the bowl was empty all too soon, so he simply sat,
basking in the feeling.
Finally he'd delayed enough, and he set the chopsticks down on the
rim of the bowl, slowly standing up. He dug into his pocket,
pulling out a handful of coins. The two five hundred yen coins
clinked as they fell on the table, and after a heartbeat hesitation,
a third joined them. The cook's eyes widened in appreciation, but
Ranma didn't see it, he was already ducking out under the shop's
awning and into the still young night.
The contentment and cheer Ranma felt lasted him almost half a block.
He was so happy he almost missed the impending attack, sensing the
danger only at the last possible instant. The leap carried him
high and right, and he touched down nimbly on a convenient wall,
hands still in his pockets. He stuck one foot behind the other
and rotated in place, facing the street he'd just abandoned.
"Well, well, well. You found Tokyo twice in one day P-chan. That's
got to be a new record." He was terribly annoyed at having the
first moment of peace and happiness he'd had in a while ruined over
Ryouga's stupid grudge.
"Shut up, Ranma! You don't know..." his voice fairly bled with
emotional angst before Ranma cut him off sharply.
"...the hell you've seen because of me. Yadda, yadda, Die Ranma,
yadda. If you're gonna fight, fight." As he offered the invitation
he stepped off the wall, landing lightly next to it, both hands,
now clenched fists, still in his pockets. Predictably, the lost
boy rushed him, fist cocked straight back. Just as predictably,
Ranma didn't move at all until Ryouga tried to unload the punch,
then bent over sideways, letting the fist rush by and bury itself
in the concrete behind him. He straightened up, and finally
extracted a hand, using it to calmly brush the dust off his shoulder.
Ryouga growled and swung with his other fist, but he was off balance,
robbing it of the power he needed to pulverize his foe. Ranma
grabbed the punch with his free hand and pushed off, tumbling Ryouga
into the wall as he used the momentum to hop back. <Perfect,> the
pig-tailed martial artist thought, lining up to unleash his new
move. He gathered the ki into himself, preparing to cast it out
in a wave. Suddenly he dropped his stance, letting the energy flow
out of him and skipping to his right with a muttered curse.
Several unidentifiable blades, mostly attached to chains, struck
the street where he'd been standing. Mousse landed behind them,
arms already folded back into his robe, ready to strike again. He
looked levelly at Ranma through those impossibly thick lenses.
"I've come to...."
Ranma afforded him no more courtesy than he had Ryouga, "...free
Shampoo from my clutches. Geez, can't you guys at least get some
original dialogue once in a while. I feel like I'm in a bad fighting
game. All I need is for... aw shit."
"No need for profanity vile sorcerer. I know my presence awes the
likes of you, but you may simply kneel in respect..." Kunou Tatewaki
stood on the other side of the street, waving his bokken in a
vaguely threatening manner.
"...and release the beauteous Tendou Akane and the oh so glorious
pig-tailed girl. I *am* in a bad fighting game." He sighed, and
dropped into a fighting stance, bringing up his guard. Ryouga had
regained his feet, leaving Ranma in the center of a triangle of
angry martial artists. Kunou and Mousse broke formation first,
the kendoist rushing forwards with a series of horizontal slashes,
while the hidden weapons expert leapt to the air again, releasing
another flight of blades on chains.
Nimbly twisting through the hail of metal, he ducked beneath the
sword strikes, then hammered Kunou in the gut with a side kick
before dancing away. Ryouga's punch received a block and nerve
strike to the bicep for his effort. Ranma ducked under Mousse's
descent, letting the razor sharp claws pass by. A quick tug and
the falling martial artist collided with the ground bound Ryouga.
The two went down in a heap of limbs, allowing Ranma the room he
needed to twist away from Kunou's overhead blow. A quick Muy Thai
kick to the back of the thigh sent the dim-wit stumbling into the
pile, disrupting their efforts to untangle and rise.
Skipping back, Ranma laughed merrily. The sight of the three
cursing each other and trying to get up almost soothed the annoyance
he felt at being interrupted. He stood stock still, settled into
an hourglass stance, gathering the ki from himself and the three
downed artists. He held it, feeling the rush of pure *life* struggle
and surge under his control as he tweaked and shaped it. His
opponents had finally separated and were clambering to their feet.
The ki took form, bucking with a life of its own, so he let it
go, guiding the flare away from himself. In his mind's eye he
could see the blast wash towards them, rolling like the surf on
the rocks. It crashed over the group just like a wave, slicing
through their spirits, numbing and paralyzing them. Mousse and
Kunou had made it to their knees, but got no further. Ryouga was
actually standing.
A breeze blew through the trees that lined the street, rustling
leaves as it went. It was the only sound to be heard. Ranma stood
in awe, staring at the three immobile men in front of him. For
almost a minute he stood, watching them not move. Finally he broke
his stance, hesitantly walking towards them. He reached out and
pushed Ryouga's shoulder, and got no response. His longtime rival
stood as still as he himself had been when he threw the blast, eyes
still focused as if frozen in that instant of time. Every now and
then a stray muscle in his face or neck would jump or one of his
outstretched arms would quiver.
He checked the other two, Mousse was on his hands and knees, while
Kunou was crouched, using his bokken to rise. Both were absolutely
still, without even the slight trembling that Ryouga displayed.
All in all, it was exactly what Ranma had expected would happen.
He focused briefly, checking over the aura of each. All could
eventually break themselves out, though Kunou would be awful hungry
and thirsty by the time he did. Ryouga's slight shivers were
growing more pronounced, again confirming that the move would hold
him a few minutes at best.
It had worked. A move he'd learned in the ancient manuscript
earlier in the afternoon had worked perfectly. With repeated
execution he could get the time to throw it down to where it wouldn't
even require trickery in a fight to pull it off. He practically
danced for joy. Stifling an urge to run off and challenge the
perverted freak or the old ghoul, he skipped back, bouncing from
toe to heel as he examined the results of his work again.
<I suppose I shouldn't leave them here like this,> he thought. He
recalled the steps for releasing the paralysis as they were written
in the book. Reaching out, he recalled bits of the ki that he'd
intertwined with the others, letting it snap back into its natural
flows. The shudder from the three was almost eerie in its
synchronization as they recovered their senses. Kunou and Mousse
sagged, no longer really making an effort to get up, and Ryouga
sat down rather bonelessly.
"You guys are pathetic! Come back after training for ten more
years." Saotome Ranma was flying high, the flush of success
quickening his pulse. Hopping up on the fence again, he jammed
his hands back in his pockets and sauntered away, whistling the
same tuneless melody the ramen cook had been humming as he worked.
***
Akane sat on her bed, school books open in front of her. The same
page of shogunate history she had started reading a half hour ago
was still there, still unfinished, question sheet on the reading
still untouched. She couldn't concentrate, everything she thought
about ended up leading to that ingrate fiancee of hers. How dare
he peep on her like that, and then have the gall to not say anything
at all about it. Not even an apology.
Why didn't he say anything? At the very least she was expecting
a rude comment about how she was built. Did he really think she
was so unattractive he didn't have to insult her anymore? Uncertainty
and doubt flashed through her and then years of self-conditioning
kicked in, transforming it all into righteous anger.
The sound of the book cracking shut echoed through the room. The
next time she saw that stupid pervert fiancee of hers, she would
give him exactly what he deserved. Her fingers slowly flexed in
anticipation.
***
Ranma stared at Nabiki, his confusion and dismay slowly being forged
into a towering rage. "What?" his voice had been lower and softer
than he intended. "What did you just say?"
She had called him in for a "quick chat" and he had reluctantly
followed her, knowing more or less what was coming. But he had
distinctly not expected such outrageous demands. Nabiki was fairly
protective of her little sister, but this was completely out of
line, even for her.
The ice queen stared evenly back. "You heard me Saotome. Come up
with the money. Or I make your life an even bigger hell than it
is." She paused, and made a theatrical show of looking at the
ceiling. "Oh wait, you can't, can you, you over-muscled jock?"
Nabiki looked back at him, sizing him up and down like a side of
beef, her gaze containing a leer Ranma wouldn't have guessed she
would use. "Hmm... I have some photographer friends. Maybe we
can work something out with one." She made a somewhat obscene
gesture with a careless wave.
Tighter and tighter wound the spring containing the young martial
artist's fury. He crossed the room so quickly she didn't even see
him move. The offending hand was suddenly clenched tightly by the
wrist. Before the pain registered, his face was right in front of
hers, eyes slitted dangerously closed. He hissed, "As if I would
ever go along with something like that...."
Nabiki clamped down on the fiery pain shooting up her arm, and the
fear that suddenly rose in her gut. Trying to maintain her cool
demeanor, she looked straight into Ranma's eyes. "Don't bother
threatening me. My price just went up a ten thousand yen."
Snap. Little bits of the spring went scattering through the glowing
anger in his soul.
Ranma focused all his rage on her, trying to impress the fullness
of his wrath. All he got was that damned cold glare, with the
tiniest hint of pain. He clamped down tighter on her arm and then
tossed it aside forcefully. "If you think you scare me, you can
just fuck me, bitch!" he spat, dismissing her and her lousy threats.
Spinning on his heel he stalked towards the door, pausing to throw
another cutting insult before he left.
The barb died in his throat as he felt Nabiki wrap herself around
him from behind. He stiffened involuntarily, his confusion
translating into hesitation. It was all the time the middle Tendou
sister needed, as one hand deftly undid one of the ties of his
shirt and slipped inside, fevered fingers caressing the cool skin
beneath. Her other hand seemed to teleport inside the waistband
of his pants, fumbling with the button fly on his boxers. The dual
mounds of her breasts pressed into his back, separated only by two
layers of silk, the hard spikes of her nipples in full evidence.
Rage vanished nearly instantaneously in a whirl of other thoughts,
and the wonderful sensations of those magic hands. Finally it
occurred to him that it was Nabiki throwing herself at him and he
panicked, windmilling his arms, and twisting away from the suddenly
aggressive girl. He whipped around, stammering without words, and
nearly fainted at the sight he encountered. Pure lust boiled in
the eyes that moments before had held only icy contempt.
Nabiki moved in again, reaching for him, her tongue sneaking out
to wet her lips in an unconscious display of desire. His anxiety
broke him out of his paralysis and he grabbed both her wrists,
holding them wide apart and away from his body. This slowed her
only slightly, and she all but threw herself on him, beginning to
nuzzle as soon as she came in contact. Ranma could the slight
dampness and heat of her lips as she kissed along his collarbone
through the silk.
Finally he found his voice, "Wh-what are you d-d-doing Nabiki?"
He squirmed, trying to keep as much of his body out of contact with
hers as possible. The feelings were pleasurable in and of themselves,
but this was his fiancee's sister, a woman whom he'd been furious
at less mere seconds earlier.
Her reply was not at all what he was expecting. It was low and
liquid, slightly sing-song, and somehow it inflamed him even more
than the erotic snuggling he was being subjected to. "Why, I'm
going to Fuck You Ra-n-ma." He could hear the capital letters,
and the drawl she added to his name sent shivers down his spine.
For the second time in several minutes he stared at her, though
this time it was in indecision rather than fury. She bucked her
hips slightly, rubbing her breasts and thighs against his chest
and legs, looking straight up into his eyes, moving forward. Her
eyes fluttered closed and her lips started to puckered as she moved
in for the kill. Once again he panicked, unsure what to do about
her sudden reversal from vicious bitch to playful sex kitten. At
the last second he turned his face away, and her kiss hit his
jawbone.
Then it hit him, she was playing with him, trying to embarrass him
the same way he had embarrassed Akane. His anger rose again and
he shoved her back with both hands. "Bitch. What kind of joke is
th...." The threat died on his tongue as he saw her eyes snap
open. Instead of anger or amusement, there was only the raw lust.
Nabiki was a good actor, but not that good, and Ranma could feel
her desire rolling off in palpable waves.
"Stop it Nabiki. You're freaking me out." Panic was giving way
to slight hysteria. Ranma was a fairly ordinary teenager when it
came to hormonal desires, but he had rabidly suppressed most of
them as part of avoiding the whole mess of having to pick a fiancee.
He simply had no experience in the sort of games Nabiki was playing.
She licked her lips again, this time on purpose, and slid forward,
letting her hips roll sexily as she came at him.
Finally his hindbrain had had enough of the situation. It was time
for fight or flight, and with that he dived towards her, swerving
at the last second to avoid her clutching grasp. A conveniently
open window offered escape and he accepted, scrambling over her
bed and leaping through it. He hit the ground in the front yard
at a full run, bounced to the wall and then was down the street,
moving in great bounds like a frightened deer. Which, truth be
told, wasn't too inaccurate.
***
When Ranma finally calmed down enough to pay attention to his
surroundings, he was somewhat surprised to discover he was less
than a half block from the high school. He ran down the narrow
alleyway, bounced over the wall and climbed one of the trees like
a monkey. He crouched on a branch, breathing heavily, both from
the exertion and to calm himself. He had been singularly unprepared
for the about-face Nabiki had done. Wracking his brain, no ready
excuse for her behavior became apparent.
She'd been threatening him, so he'd gotten mad. She'd made a rude
suggestion that he told her to forget. She'd threatened him again
and he'd gotten really mad and grabbed her wrist, hoping the pain
would crack that infuriating stony exterior. Forcing her hand
hadn't worked, it earned another cool comment. He remembered being
absolutely furious at that point, trying to impress his anger on
her, then cursing her and trying to leave. Nothing that would
cause her to attempt rape on him immediately thereafter.
Something tickled the back of his mind, but he couldn't reach it
in time. He thought about Nabiki, and the feel of her body against
his, then shoved the thought away before he could decide he liked
it. The middle sister was extremely good looking in her own way.
A sort of animal magnetism, a guy just instinctively knew she was
more woman than he could handle. She could make him squirm without
ever her needing to say a word, just a slight arch of one of those
delicate eyebrows could convey her contempt, annoyance, curiosity,
or now, lust.
The something tickled his brain again, and this time he grabbed
it, letting the words play in his head. "Fuck me, bitch." the
memory of his own voice was somewhat frightening, invoking the
ghost of that incredible rage. "Why, I'm going to Fuck You Ra-n-ma."
Her voice, sultry and erotic, evoked other images, real and imagined.
"Fuck me."
"I'm going to Fuck You."
The desire to impress his anger on her, to make her understand.
"Fuck me."
"Fuck You."
Pushing a bit of himself on her. A bit of himself. His spirit.
His....
His ki.
Pushing his ki at her. Holding her wrist. The words 'Fuck me'
hanging in the air. Turning around and being mauled from behind.
The words 'Fuck You'.
He'd done it. He'd caused the sudden reversal. He must have used
the choushi on her, but without taking her ki for it. Just his
own. And the words he'd spoken. It hadn't been paralysis of the
body, but of the will.
Ranma sat alone in the tree for a rather long time.
***
Glossary:
itadakimasu - Literally 'I receive', a ritual phrase used before
beginning to eat.
okyakusama - Honored customer. In Japan this is the usual form of
address for a store employee to use when speaking to customer. The
Jusenkyou guide uses it to refer to Ranma and Genma for example.
shi shi houkoudan - Roaring Lion Shot. Ryouga's 'fireball' attack.
mouko takabisha - Fierce Tiger Domineering. Ranma's 'fireball' attack.
hiryu shoten ha - Rising Dragon Hurricane. By moving in a circle
around an enraged opponent while keeping cool himself, Ranma uses
the temperature difference to generate a small whirlwind to attack
the enemy.
choushi - Pinning the Butterfly. Ranma's new technique.
***
The blame for this whole mess goes to Sean Gaffney and, indirectly,
Lara Bartram. I was pre-reading for Sean's "Complete Control"
(inspired and heavily prodded by Lara) and he took it in a direction
he hadn't intended to. I asked to take it the other direction.
Oh, I also blame Mike Loader, because all fics seem to be his fault
in some fashion or another. ;)
Thanks to the following people for pre-reading, proof reading,
advice, ideas, prodding, and other help:
Thom Youngblood
Sean Gaffney
Lara Bartram
Mike Loader
Nick Leifker
James 'Zen' Bateman
Rod 'RPM' Malapitan
Chris Bremer
Trisha Sebastian
David Tai
and the rest of the KawaiiMUCK people who have kibbitzed on the
accuracy of the situations and characters.
plus all the people on the FFML who gave comments, corrections,
and encouragement (Jamie and Bridget Wilde, David Eddy, John Lemon,
Brian M, Sean Murphy, Mark Permo, Thomas Kinnon, and the rest)
The characters, environment, and most back-story were created by
Takahashi Rumiko-sensei and appear without any form of permission
on her part or that of any of the interests representing her or
owning rights to such. I have attempted to stay as true to my
interpretation of the canon as possible, though due to the story,
and the need for certain plot points, some extrapolation has
obviously occurred.
The ideas for the 'symbols' came from the very well written series
'The Book' posted to USENET by Blackie a while back. Blackie seems
to have fallen off the net since then, and his ideas are used
without any sort of direct permission.
The title translates roughly as 'To Use the Will'
As with all my works, I give express permission for anyone to use
the characterizations, ideas, plots, and incidental characters
contained within. Side stories are welcome, though you might want
to make a note where in the continuity they fit, since I may extend
either before or after something I've already written.
-DaR