Okay, I just have to wrap this one around somebody's
brain...
In the past, I may have had some bad ideas, but they were
the most interesting. This one is not a new idea for me,
having fermented in my head for several months now.
Basically it's Ranma and Ryouga visiting America, having
run-ins with humorously underskilled gangs trying to steal
something back from a government agent who is really not cut
out for the field. Lara Croft puts on an appearance to
illustrate the cultural (and intelligence) gulf, providing
some good-natured comic relief.
It started so strong, but now seems lagging. C&C?
---
Ranma Saotome - "Sorry to interrupt!"
Ryouga Hibiki - "Our chances of victory are slim at best, your chances of
victory are non-existent."
Lara Croft - "I'm just here for the entertainment, I don't wash dishes."
Some Guy - "If I told you, I'd have to kill you... well, not really, and I
don't want to anyway, so listen up."
---
They had been chosen by fate alone... Grouped together by neither
demographics or bad seating arrangements... To inadvertently save their own
skins and the skin of Some Guy.
Welcome to the mess.
---
Crystal Shadows
A Ranma 1/2 + Tomb Raider Crossover.
By Rick Spiff
rick696@mail.excite.com
Standard Disclaimer applies: I have been to San Francisco only twice in my
entire life, so I don't know all that much about the city. I do retain rights
to several original character in this story, but I don't claim to have the
rights to anything Ranma 1/2 or Tomb Raider, as they are owned by Rumiko
Takahashi/Viz Entertainment and Eidos, respectively.
---
It was a beautiful day in Nerima.
That really didn't mean squat, though, because Nerima has the strangest
weather patterns of pretty much any spot on earth. It was also a little
unusual in the sense that many of the world's most powerful martial artists
also flocked there like lemmings for no particular reason.
Actually, there was a reason.
The reason was eighteen years of age, five foot nine, with a mop of thick
black hair tied into a pigtail and sapphire blue eyes. He was a very skilled
martial artist, as many in Nerima were, and his name was Ranma Saotome.
Wearing his red silk shirt (a nicely done affair of Chinese design with
wooden ties), and a pair of dark blue pants, the young local martial arts
champion was running. He was not running to yet another fight with one of his
rivals, though he tended to run INTO many of them far too often for his own
tastes. He was not running out just for the joy of running, though he often
indulged in just being out, alive and free. He was running back home to
apologize to his less-than-totally compatible arranged fianc�e.
She wasn't all that bad, Ranma told himself for the ten thousandth time that
day. She just needed to be treated gently.
Gently. Yeah right, like a--
Ranma harshly cut off that line of thought. Akane was really nice to be
around when she wasn't trying to remove his vital organs, which wasn't often,
unfortunately.
He closed his eyes and concentrated on the gentle caress of wind on his face.
And as though it was someone's duty to interrupt just because Ranma was
enjoying himself, a danger siren flashed in Ranma's head. He jumped without
hesitation, almost randomly, and opened his eyes in mid-flight. Ah, Ryouga!
Just the guy he DIDN'T want to see today!
An amazingly durable red bamboo umbrella was sticking out of the now cracked
sidewalk like a surrealistic painting. Ranma landed lightly on one foot in a
combat stance, wary of yellow and black bandannas.
It was with reluctant afterthought that Ranma considered the ridiculous tone
his life had taken on ever since that fatal plunge... Hell, life would've
NEVER been this interesting if it weren't for that little ten year training
trip Ranma's father, Genma, had taken him on all those years ago. On the
upside, he would have never met Ryouga, a driven martial artist who was
really the only one around besides Cologne (or that jerk Tarou) who could
really give him a good fight. Besides, Cologne cheated, and her great-
granddaughter wanted to marry him.
No bandannas flew forth though, and Ranma easily refocused his thoughts on
the scene at hand. "Hello, Ranma." Said a deep, weathered voice.
Ryouga Hibiki then dropped into view, backpack and all. He was about Ranma's
age, but looked easily two or three years older from his worn looks and
equally worn clothing, consisting of a light yellow tunic, stained brown, and
bark green pants (also nearly stained brown), corded together at the calves.
He stood about the same height, but probably out-weighted the pig tailed
martial artist by a good twenty pounds. His unruly black hair was cut short,
shorter than Ranma remembered, but was still held back from his eyes by a
yellow bandanna with a random pattern of black squares on it. Ranma knew from
experience that it wasn't just one, but probably a few dozen bandannas
perpetually strapped around Ryouga's head. All in all, Ryouga walked about
with an indefinite air, and such a remarkable innocence, that if he managed
to stay in one place long enough, he would probably amass a good following of
female companions.
And there was the other constant of the well-known Hibiki. Lost. He was
always lost. Perpetually, totally, eternally lost. Everywhere he went must
have REALLY looked the same to him, or he just couldn't be sure he was headed
in the right direction. Ever. It was this uncanny ability to manage to
navigate around the intended objective without tracking one's progress that
allowed Ryouga to take frequent trips off the Japanese mainland itself, and
on occasion, to even find his way to... say, Spain. Often this would happen
without him even realizing it until he tried to ask for directions and found
he couldn't understand the language. Still, Ranma had tried to be his friend
when they were both thirteen and attending the same all-boys school. A daily
fight over bread at lunchtime started a lasting rivalry, but that was only
the beginning of Ryouga's tale.
For some two years now, Ryouga had been repeatedly trying to defeat Ranma in
combat, undergoing any training necessary if it gave him even a small
advantage of the virtual scourge of his life. Somewhere in the struggles and
adventures that the two had been thrown into over the past two years, a
friendly bond was formed beneath all the fighting, a bond that had only one
weak spot: Akane Tendo, Ranma's fiance.
Soon, Ranma hoped to eliminate that one rough spot, because after a list of
offenses to long to even consider putting down here, he had finally had
enough. It was some months after the wedding fiasco, when he was listening to
his mother's advice on the subject of him and Akane. To Ranma, it felt weird
to talk about them like that. Him and Akane, like they were a couple or
something. His mother had advised that whatever the outcome may be, it was
high time he sorted out his feelings.
Ironically, that didn't take long to do. "Hey, Ryouga! Where have you BEEN
man?!"
"Oh, around." Ryouga said offhand as he picked up his 141 pound umbrella from
its position in the concrete.
So Ryouga didn't come to fight... Ranma's thoughts were a bit of a mix. If
Ryouga wasn't in a fighting mood, then he was usually at a loss as to what
was going on in that bandanna-secured head of his.
This time, however, he felt he had an idea of what was slowly going through
Ryouga's unnaturally thick head.
"So, stopped by to visit, huh?" Ranma tentatively asked, relaxing his stance
and taking a fresh breath of clean morning air. The better to dodge when not
short of breath.
Ryouga returned the comment with a look that should have easily destroyed the
fence Ranma was standing in front of.
His eyes hardened. "I heard you... that you..." Deep, shaky breath. "you
had..." Ryouga seemed to be choking up.
Oh God, no. No. Not now. PLEASE, not now.
"You told Ukyou that..." Another choking noise with a distinct wetness Ranma
had never heard from Ryouga before, but recognized instantly.
The invincible wandering warrior was going to cry.
"DAMN YOU!!!"
Or not.
Ranma stepped aside of Ryouga's umbrella as it crashed through the steel
fence behind Ranma. It was the steel that gave way first though, and not the
umbrella.
"I told Ukyou what, Ryouga?" He knew, oh yes, he knew, but he just had to
make sure that Ryouga knew as well... and maybe stall, just a bit.
"So that's finally it then?" Another swing that Ranma easily dodged, but
Ryouga wasn't really putting his thoughts in the fight, he was more concerned
with something else.
"Yes. That's... it. I'm just through with this fianc� business. I want it
over and done with once and for all." He paused, then continued in lower
tones. "It would make mom so happy, too."
Ryouga's tear-filled eyes snapped up to Ranma's face at that last remark, and
stayed there for a moment, searching intently for something he couldn't quite
see. And then, just as the air around him was beginning to glow green, Ryouga
felt a great sense of relief. It was more like two parts relief, two parts
sadness, one part joy.
Ryouga had suspected when Ukyou started the tear works, and had tried to
avoid just crushing Ranma's skull without warning. Could it be that somewhere
inside of him Ryouga actually wanted this to happen?
It would make Akane happy.
"Saotome..." He said weakly, not able to continue.
Ranma, not being the sensitive nineties type of guy that could deal with
emotionally destroyed direction-less berserkers on a daily basis, could only
watch in horror, not quite sure what to do, and doing nothing in the end.
Fortunately for Ranma's 'image' that was just the right thing to do.
As the sighing wind blew, rustling the cherry trees with the song of nature,
two men stood in silence. Ranma was careful to keep his face confused if
anything--he was not going to provoke a fight with Ryouga by being
insensitive. He came to relax a bit as the dust twirled about their feet, and
regarded Ryouga from another perspective for one second. In summary, Ranma
could not get past the odd image of a grown man sobbing while wearing a huge
brown backpack.
Grown man.
He WOULD be marrying Akane, eventually. He WOULD be taking over the Tendo
dojo (actually, he didn't mind the dojo part). He WAS out of school now.
Bored, a little. The house was empty, Nabiki off to school.
Heh, Ranma did once have half the mind to suggest to Kasumi that she do
something with her life, and for that token of generosity, he had been
soundly lectured to by his father for five straight hours about his behavior.
Then, for five straight minutes, Ranma soundly beat his father into
unconsciousness and felt a lot better.
Hey! That was it! Just Ryouga into a good fight with him, and all will be
well.
Say, hadn't he be trying to PREVENT that from happening just a minute ago?
Well, it would make Ryouga feel better, and it wasn't like they would REALLY
hurt one another...
Ranma cut off the mental dialogue and put his questionably intelligent plan
into action.
"Ryouga? Ryouga... look. I know you're a little upset about this, but-"
"UPSET?!!" Ryouga roared, equal parts rage and incredulity.
"What would it take to make you feel better?"
Ryouga's eyes locked on the pig-tailed martial artist. Shit, this is going to
hurt, thought Ranma.
Ryouga just looked skeptical of Ranma's words.
"What are you plotting, Ranma?" The Hibiki said with raised umbrella and
accusatory words.
"Just... seeing if you're interested in a little match to help you get your
mind off some stuff."
"Dare you ignore my suffering, Ranma Saotome?!"
Damnit Ryouga! "I'm just trying to be nice. You don't have anything better to
do, right?" Well, that was a little odd, fighting for lack of anything better
to do.
"Ranma, you..." Something glinted in Ryouga's shadowed eyes for a second.
"Okay. A fight it is."
"Just don't try to kill me, man."
Ryouga grinned.
---
Halfway around the world...
Lara Croft stepped lightly out of a late model Ford sedan into the rainbow
sky of a glorious sunset of the famous California summer weekend.
She felt good to be alive, as only a day in the sun could make her feel.
Having recently completed a small task for local millionaire Francis Cantore,
she was ready for a well-deserved rest.
She had spent the last several weeks mucking around in the silty bottom of
the Gulf of Mexico, dragging away parts of a ship that 'sunk' in the twenty-
foot water more than a hundred years ago. She didn't want to face up to a
monotonous task like exploring a half-dead shipwreck, but since the wreck was
practically coming apart at the seams, she was working against the clock and
high odds--just the way she liked things.
Her penthouse suite was accommodating, though she really didn't need it.
Being a light packer, she felt like a guest in yet another lavish house
inhabited by idiots and jerks. Service was nice, though.
She came back up to her underused room feeling all aglow. Mr. Cantore was
right, three weeks of hell in the mud was well worth one day of relaxing
sunshine in San Fancisco.
Nice town.
After shrugging off a worn leather bomber jacket and very dirty clothes, Lara
indulged in a long, hot shower. After drying off, she appropriated a lightly
colored cotton sundress from her limited wardrobe and stepped out onto the
balcony of her room barefoot to watch the city light up. Night came quickly
the warm coastal city, with a light breeze from the ocean keeping down the
hot afternoon sun.
Lights came on for as far as the eye could see, and Lara stayed outside for
some time to watch the lightshow.
Nice town, she was going to enjoy the rest of her stay.
---
Running. He didn't particularly enjoy running, but here he was, running for
his life. One dangerous shadow to the next, never pausing long enough to
completely catch his breath. Day after day, night after night, the running
consumed his animal senses. That, and primal fear from the darkest recesses
of his brain. His logical brain was heavily distracted by the interference,
but he secretly presumed it would not matter very much if his logical
resources were free.
It hadn't helped him last time they were close, how much good would it do him
now that he was in their territory?
Figuratively speaking, he had been running without pause for the whole of
last week. Speaking literally, he had been running without pause for the last
twenty minutes.
No name, no face, just a shape escaping from assailants unknown.
Weeks ago, he'd been just your average working stiff in the intelligence
business, breaking code, writing reports, and trying to nail down a career
out of his stay in the NSA.
Weeks ago, he would have never considered a (painfully brief) life on the run
from assassins trying to get a briefcase his 'job' had put him to. To him,
the thought of being killed was always a remote one, or one dealt with in the
coldest emotion from a practical standpoint. If, for some reason, he was
captured by an enemy force, he would commit quick and hopefully painless
suicide. If he was singled out for assassination, he would be quickly and
painlessly killed. Hell, it wouldn't matter then, would it?
But noooo. Things ALWAYS had to be complicated. The assassins terribly
botched the first job, and it had been made abundantly clear to him that
loosing this briefcase was NOT an option. You see, they wanted the briefcase.
Kill him, fine. Steal the briefcase? That was a no-no.
Unfortunately, they had to get to the briefcase by killing him.
Pretty screwed up, no?
And as if he was just destined to make things worse, his trip to San Fran was
probably going to end up with a minor headline about a John Doe found dead in
a park somewhere. Yes, they had followed him here. And what next? A violent,
uneventful end to his perpetually boring life?
C'mon, he PREFERED boring, if given the choice...
---
Ranma and Ryouga were NOT fighting. At least, that's what they'd say if
someone were to imply anything of the sort to them directly.
They NEVER FIGHT.
Spar? Hell yes, they spar, what self-respecting martial artist doesn't?
Thus, without interruptions, this 'sparring' match raged for hours, unabated.
Probably because no one who witnessed it had a deathwish, but more than
likely the hands of fate had some piece in all of it. Fate does things like
that sometimes. And people like Ranma and Ryouga are old friends to the hands
of fate, even if they didn't quite realize it yet. They had a very special
place in the world...
Thousands of punches, kicks, blocks, complicated moves of gratuitously
excessive speed, agility, or strength, and even ki blasts flew between the
opponents in the marathon 'sparring' match. They crossed lands of all types,
not to mention ships, towns, cities, a rodeo in one place, and plenty of
water. This was not unusual to the thoughts of an educated person, as the
majority of the Earth is covered in water, but it scared the crap out of the
pair for some reason.
Assuming one did ask them, the response would be drearily similar to the
above... Did anyone nearby them have a deathwish?
Apparently not.
However, if one thing could be said about this pair, taking things they have
in common first, one could not overlook the fact that they both loved a good
fight. So great was their skill from this continual testing of abilities that
just about the only people they could fight all out were one another. Not
surprising, considering this group's skill level, and it made for one heck of
a show.
Both being good-natured, even a little 'naive' for this world, they never
expected to deal with the problems that confronted them day after day, yet
they had always dealt with hardships in the true martial arts spirit: They
overcame.
When the show finally wound down, though, they found themselves facing
another problem. Namely, they were in a foreign country which they did not
speak a large portion of the language, and without passports to boot.
Had they paid more attention in English class, though, they would recognize
the sign of the city limits they happened to be standing right next to when
the due was too exhausted to continue. San Francisco.
"Great, just gibberish. Can you make any of it out, Ryouga?" Said Ranma.
After their 'match' came to an abrupt halt, they had taken to just sitting on
the--oddly--landscaped ground for a breather. There was a freeway going by,
but a fence and grass was between them and the roadway, so they didn't worry
about some crazy driver hitting them. The VOLUME of cars was amazing, though.
"Hmm, no. I have seen writing like this before, I think its American. An
American street sign." Ryouga gave up looking over the cryptic white-on-green
road sign and looked for a direction to travel in--which usually meant: Pick
one and try to keep going in a straight line.
"An American street sign? Greeaaat, Ryouga, Akane's gonna kill me." Ranma
whined.
"Why...?" Ryouga drawled in a pitiful tone for threatening someone.
"Jeeze, man. It's DARK out. We're probably in New York or something, with
pretty much no money, no transportation and no papers. How am I gonna call
her? Let alone get back home..."
"Don't worry," Said Ryouga, with a strange glint in his eye. "we can always
finish this up."
"No thanks, I'd like to be home before next MONTH."
"You turn away my offer of help?!" Ryouga shouted, getting angry.
"You got us lost in the first place, _P-Chan_!!!" Ranma called back in kind.
"Ranma, YOU were the one who suggest we start fighting, this is YOUR FAULT!"
"YES, IT'S MY--uhh..." Then, he facefaulted. "But still!"
"But still nothing." Said Ryouga, calming down as he did a one eighty. "We
are here for the night, I think. We can take it."
"Yeah, we can... sleep out here? Under the stars? With all the bugs?!" Ranma
said, feeling a little creeped out. Stars: good, bugs: bad.
"What, you never sleep outdoors before, SISSY?" Ryouga taunted.
"That's it, you're gettin' it now!" Shouted Ranma in pale approximation of a
battle cry.
"Anytime, Ranma!" Ryouga said tiredly.
The two beaten, exhausted fighter stumbled towards one another, not quite
even getting into a proper stance for combat. At last, they feel into one
another's arms, sinking slowly to the ground.
"Just... after... I rest." Sighed Ranma.
"Yeah, me... too... Saotome." Dittoed Ryouga.
---
After a night under the stars, the pair of martial artist made their way
uneasily into the city. They didn't relish spending a large portion of their
time basically living like fugitives, but if they went to the Japanese
embassy here, it was unlikely they'd be home before next month. Assuming, of
course, that their story would be believed... Ranma would have rather
traveled with Ryouga back the old hometown than fall into the gears of
government overseas.
The other option? Make some cash and find someone that could smuggle them
home safely. Good idea, but they were off to a poor start, as they duo had
maybe 2,500 yen between them. Secondly, it would be hard to find a job with
no papers and no place of residence, but Ranma did recall that in a large
city like this, it would be easy to find SOMEONE willing to pay them for
work.
Ranma _did_ start feeling better about their situation when he found out that
the city they had strayed into (named San Francisco for some reason) was on
the coast directly opposite Japan. However, he would have felt better about
discovering this little fact had it not taken him twenty minutes of arguing
in two different languages and numerous hand gestures to get the information
out of some clueless gaijin dock worker.
Anyway, after several more hours of wandering around (Ranma taking the lead,
fortunately), the pair did find their way into Chinatown, from there is was a
relatively paltry two and a half hours before they found a restaurant that
hired them to bus some tables. From the look of their new boss' face, he
wasn't buying their edited story, but it wasn't any more likely he'd believe
the truth, so Ranma let it slide with mouthful of silently grinding teeth.
It helped that Ranma had bused tables before, while working at another
Chinese restaurant near the Tendo dojo. Ryouga, on the other hand, was
virtually useless; he could barely find his way out of the kitchen on his own
in less than ten minutes, and asking him to deliver orders was asking for
trouble. Somehow, he did manage, though. Having learned a few words of
mandarin, he could pretty much navigate around the back part of the
restaurant if the other workers helped point him around. It was nice to have
someone with his strength in the back to, and to Ranma's surprise, he could
handle a knife pretty well. Probably from using his bandanna/belt trick.
They worked until closing on their first day, and Ranma had the feeling they
had annoyed the boss by not appearing even the least bit tired after a
madhouse eight hour shift. The pair remained polite as possible, then stepped
outside after getting their work schedules (tomorrow at six a.m., big
surprise) to find a place to sleep.
There they stopped.
"Hmm, haven't given this one much thought." Said Ranma as he scratched the
back of his head absently and let off a nervous chuckle.
"Big surprise there, Ranma." Ryouga growled. Apparently neither had grown
very tired after being 'worked to death,' and were ready to go it again.
Or they would have been, if not for the timely interruption of a boy about
eighteen who had been helping the two during their first day. Somewhere in
the back of his mind, Ryouga knew that it was not okay for minors to work
here without paperwork of some kind, but the fact they were employed at all
(and after one day, too!), put his mind at ease. Besides, the kid wasn't too
bad, though he had been pestering them since it was revealed that Ranma knew
martial arts. And what was that kid's name again?
"Guys! Hey, it's me, Hiro! Boy, you two were something else, I think old man
Jack was a little upset about you two breakin' his rhythm..."
The two let Hiro rant on for a minute, feeling a little nervous in general
about all the attention when a question flew over their heads. Hiro stopped
talking at that point, so it was an indication he was expecting an answer,
but Ryouga hadn't caught it. He looked to Ranma, who was as confused as he
felt.
"Umm, say that again, Hiro?"
"I asked if you would tech me some moves."
'Moves'? Oh, this was a new one. Ranma squinted, pretending to think. There
was something in the back of his mind, something important...
Ryouga was in the mood to find a place to pitch his tent and snooze, but he
didn't envy spending another night with that snoring dunce Ranma.
A place to stay, that was it. An idea formed in Ranma's mX-Mozilla-Status: 0009ut us up for the night, and in return, we train you for as long as we're
around?" It was a gamble, but he didn't envy spending another night with that
snoring jerk Ryouga.
"Hmm, I know Ms. Tergota is looking for a new tenant on the fourth floor...
What do you guys have with you?"
With us? "Just what's on our backs, I suppose." Hiro's eyes shifted, locked
on the pack that Ryouga was carrying. Hiro had tried lifting it when Ryouga
left it sitting out back, that thing weighed a ton!
"I guess that'd be okay, she just wants the cash, if you're working here, you
should be good for it. I'll just put in a word or two and you guys could even
have your own place! Sound good?"
Ranma forced out a smile at the boy's sharp mind and bubbling enthusiasm.
Maybe this was a good thing after all. He caught Ryouga following suit, and
the three set off, Ranma and Ryouga following Hiro to God-only-knows where.
__________________________________________________
Do You Yahoo!?
Bid and sell for free at http://auctions.yahoo.com