Figured since it's been awhile since I'd started this (nearly two
years, can ya believe it?) it wouldn't hurt to repost the earlier chapters.
Enjoy!
Ranma 1/2 is the property of Rumiko Takahashi
and whoever else has the
rights to it.
Jet Moto is the property of Sony and 989 Studios.
Ranma and Jet Moto are used without permission.
====================================
The sun struggled to shine through the thick, gray-black clouds.The
stadium was easily capable of accommodating nine thousand
people, but at present only two thousand were there. The people
gathered there that day to witness a race in a very minor Jet Moto circuit
The human race had seen several advances in the first fifteen
years of the twenty-first century. Many technological, medical, and
military advances had improved the lives of countless people. As
technology improved, most sports of the twentieth century became obsolete.
The public demanded a sport with greater challenges, a better rush,
and above all, more risk. Jet Moto met that demand. Moto pilots were a
select group. A pilot's training had to be extensive and brutal, for Moto
racing demanded nothing less. Those that were skilled enough to race in
legitimate circuits could achieve great success in the racing world.
Lead pilot for team Ryu-Ken, Akane Tendo was among the best on
the
circuit. The circuit, however, was not among the best. It was
actually one of the lowest ranked in Japan. She kept telling herself that
many of the most successful pilots got their starts in the small-time
circuits, but that didn't make the lack of opportunities any easier.
She was not only the lead pilot for the team, but also the only
pilot. Nabiki never liked the sport itself, preferring the financial end.
Kasumi wasn't much of a pilot, either. However, she was a trained
paramedic, and possibly the best damn mechanic on the circuit. That left
Akane to shoulder the burden of racing alone.
The form-fitting black jumpsuit emphasized her curves nicely, in
her opinion. It was standard racing gear; the jumpsuit was made of a tear
and flame-retardant material, as were the gloves and knee-high boots. The
helmet would absorb the shock of most impacts, keeping her head
somewhatsafe. None of this was fool-proof, though. In Jet Moto, a screw-up
could mean an accident, and an accident could mean the end of a career, if
not one's life. Being the only pilot for her team, an accident could very
well sink the them all. She pushed all thoughts in that direction out of her
head. There was no point dwelling on what could be.
She looked over at her Moto, a black streamlined affair that
resembled a hovering motorcycle. It was rather large, considering Akane's
size. Nearly three meters long, and weighing in at four hundred kilograms,
the bike was designed for someone a good deal larger than her. Nevertheless,
she handled it easily enough. At its side, arms deep in the guts of the
machine, knelt Kasumi.
Kasumi was the eldest of the three Tendo daughters. She had tried
to pilot a Moto after the death of their mother ten years ago, but
performed dismally. Kasumi did, however, find her niche in the industry
in two roles. As a mechanic, she kept the Motos running in top condition.
As a paramedic, she kept Akane in top running condition.
She wore blue coveralls, stained with grease and other assorted
mechanical lubricants. The team logo was emblazoned on the back, a dragon
winding around an upward-pointing fist. Her chestnut hair was pulled up
under her cap, with a few stray locks hanging around her head and face.
Kasumi was always tinkering with Motos, fixing one problem or another. She
always prided herself on keeping the complex machines running in top
condition. Kasumi also insisted on trying new techniques to squeeze a little
more speed from the engines. Akane smiled at her sister's kneeling form.
Footsteps sounded a short distance behind Akane. She didn't know
who would enter the team's Moto stall, nor did she care. It was probably
one of the security guards.
"Akane Tendo! Your one true love has come for thee!" Her smile
vanished at the sound of that booming voice. Without turning, she snarled,
"What do you want, Kuno?"
"I seek naught but to bask in the heavenly glory of thy beauty,
to..."
"Stow it, Kuno," Akane said as she turned to face him. "I'm not
in the mood." It wasn't that he was unattractive. He was tall for a
Japanese, reaching nearly two meters. His blue pilot suit bore the logo of
the Blue Thunder team on his chest, and served to enhance his lean-muscled
frame. His brown hair fell over eyes of the same shade. He was quite
handsome, in fact.
"Why dost thou turn aside mine affections?" Kuno asked. "What
must this noble samurai..."
"OUT, Kuno!" Akane shouted. She was already tired of his
delusions of samurai grandieur, and he had only been in the room for
forty seconds. Kuno stiffened, and said,
"Fair enough, maiden, for 'tis nearly time for the contest, which
I shall surely win. For no mere commoner can defeat the Blue..."
"OUT!" Finally, Kuno made his exit. Akane took a few deep, calming
breaths to let out the anger. She REALLY hated that jerk...
"Finished!" Kasumi said in her usual cheerful tone. Akane turned,
and tried to smile at her oldest sister.
"Thanks, Kasumi." she said.
"ALL PILOTS, REPORT TO STARTING POSITIONS! REPEAT, ALL PILOTS REPORT
TO STARTING POSITIONS!" Kasumi stepped aside as Akane walked to the large
Moto. In one single, practised motion she mounted the machine. Kasumi handed
Akane her helmet, with the team logo painted on both sides. After placing it
on her head, she thumbed the startup button. The engines hummed to life, the
small magnetic field forming to lift the Moto from the maintenance pad.
The luminous gagues indicated field strength, current RPM's,
speed, battery levels, all the things a pilot needed to know. Kasumi
would also keep track of the Moto's condition from the pit zone, and
could tell a bit more from her instruments. Satisfied that everything was
functioning smoothly, Akane engaged the drive, twisting the throttle just
a hair forward. The Moto obligingly glided toward the large bay door,
which began to open and let in the light from outside.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
The track wasn't up to code, but there wasn't much one could do
about it. The magnetic barriers that kept the Motos on the track were
just barely functioning, and the electro-magnetic strips that ran beneath
the track worked with absolutely no consistency. Such hazards made
piloting a Moto very dangerous and unpredictable, and a few pilots had
lost their lives because of it. Akane, however, had no choice but to race
on these substandard tracks. She looked over the competition, sizing them up.
Many of the other racers rode piecemeal machines, homegrown Motos
that looked as though they would fall apart if their pilots gunned their
engines. Her Moto, though getting on in years, was in excellent condition.
In fact, the only other Moto she saw that looked to be in as good shape as
hers was Kuno's. She often found herself wondering why in hell he raced in
such a low-rated circuit. His team, not to mention him personally, was
rather wealthy. If her team had HALF the money Blue Thunder was rumored to
have...
"RACERS! READY..." Akane focused all her attention to the track
ahead. The next four laps would decide whether or not Nabiki would be
able to pay off more of the team's numerous debts. "SET..." Akane
tightened her grip on the throttle.
"GO!"
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Akane gunned the big Moto's engine, the two thrusters in the rear
flaring to life and propelling the machine forward. Akane was pushed back
a little from the force of the takeoff. She had been placed in the middle
of the pack and thus was surrounded by many other racers. Using the
Moto's large size to her advantage, she began to power through the lighter
racers.
Her Moto was a heavy model, what she lost in acceleration and
agility, she gained in more stability and a higher top speed. She could
usually knock lighter bikes off-balance easily, a tactic which fit in
nicely with her aggressive style of racing.
As she cleared a path between through the competition, she saw
Kuno moving fairly slow up ahead. He was staying just ahead of the other
racers, obviously trying to be easy on her. Whether it was because she was a
girl, or that he was enamored of her, she didn't care. Akane hated
being patronized. She cranked up the throttle a little more, knocking
another racer out of the way.
The G-forces rose as the Moto gained speed, the scenery blurring
past as she rocketed down the track. The pack of twenty racers rounded
the second turn, one hitting a faulty spot on the magnetic stips and
losing control. Akane saw him hit the wall and fly off his Moto in the
rear-view image in the top-left corner of her HUD. The Heads Up Display
showed basically what the gagues showed, along with her current race
status, and gave a small image of what was behind. An oval shape in the
bottom left corner represented the track, with her being the glowing green
dot and Kuno the glowing blue one, for he was currently in first. She felt
sorry for the pilot of the crashed Moto, but that sort of thing happened
on the track.
The first lap ended, as did the careers of two other pilots. Her
Moto had reached top speed long before then, and she was rapidly catching up
to Kuno. He was her most formidable opponent, the only one on the track who
could give her a constant challenge. She still had other racers to go past,
but they wouldn't pose much of a problem.
She looked in her rear-view image, and caught sight of a pilot
riding her slipstream. He bore no team logo that she could see, which
wasn't that unusual. Sometimes pilots tried to break into the circuits
alone, without a team or sponsor. In any event, this one wouldn't do it
in her slipstream with her doing all the work.
A quick glance told her that his bike was custom made. It didn't
conform to any one building style used by the major designers like
Mitsubishi, Kawasaki, and the like. It seemed like a melding of several
design styles. He effortlessly weaved through what racers stood between
them. Akane decided to worry about him after Kuno. First things first,
after all.
They were nearing the end of the second lap, Akane and Kuno
running neck and neck. He was no longer holding off, now actively racing
against her. Akane knew how to play by the rules and when to break them.
She gunned the engine going into the turn, picking up speed in the deadly
arc and daring the other pilots to follow her. She closed her eyes and let
her reflexes take over - the G-forces permitted nothing less. Let them try
to follow her. Even Kuno couldn't keep up with her like this.
Though Kuno's Moto was more nimble than hers, her higher top
speed and momentum paid off. A well-timed turbo-boost sent her sailing
past her adversary. The Moto was somewhat harder to control at 315 KpH,
but it was nothing she couldn't handle. A quick look at the rear-view
image confirmed that the asshole riding her slipstream was currently
occupied with Kuno. It looked like she'd be bringing home the bacon
tonight.
It was the beginning of the fourth lap, and the track looked more
or less clear ahead of her. Behind her, though, was a different story.
She saw that same guy riding her ass again. This time, though, he was
much closer and still gaining ground.
Ok, jerk, Akane thought. You want a piece of me? His Moto was a
fast one for its size. He was, in fact, approaching her top speed.
Controlling a Moto that size at such high speeds had to be tough, but he
looked as though he did it with no effort. Let's go, punk!
Akane briefly considered just using her last turbo-boost to leave
him chewing dust, but she felt that she could simply out-manuever him.
The two went into a curve, Akane veering to the inside. Without warning,
he shot past her, leaving her behind. What the HELL?
She saw the bright white glare from the triad design of his three
thrusters, and knew he had used a boost. They were exiting the second
turn, with the stranger rapidly shrinking in the distance. Akane fired her
last turbo-boost, knowing it was her only option.
The G-forces nearly doubled as the boost engaged, sending the
Moto hurtling at insane speeds toward the leader's back. Akane steadily
and quickly gained back lost ground. She took stock of his appearance.
He was muscular, as much so as Kuno if not more. His boots and the
bottom half of his suit were coal black, while the top and helmet were
bright red. Not bad, really. It was a shame she'd have to beat him.
The third turn came and went, Akane in an excellent position to
reclaim first place. The fourth and final turn approached, with the
leader high on the outside. Oh, this was PERFECT!
Completely without warning, he cut down sharply, having engaged
another turbo-boost. Akane struggled to keep from losing control as he
rocketed off ahead of her. Furious with herself for underestimating her
opponent, she pounded the instrument panel with one hand as she cut the
throttle. He was well across the finish line before she'd even gotten out
of the turn.
==============================================
Nerima had been a beautiful place, once. The houses were at one time
inhabited by people other than squatters, roaches, and rats. The
walls used to be clean, without a trace of grafitti, and the streets were
not strewn with garbage. However, Nerima Ward was now an eyesore.
The drizzle hung in the air like a veil, giving everything
around a softened look. The water ran off the street in technicolor
streams where it picked up oil and other substances on its way to the
storm drains.The still air was pierced by a high-pitched whine off in the
distance. A small shadow could be seen making its way through the gray
mist at high speed.
The red Kawasaki Ninja screamed through the filthy streets of
Nerima like a pissed-off banshee. It was a land model, not a Moto.
Motorcycles were still used in this day and age, and Motos were not legal
on the street. Of course, that never stopped anybody. Many people still
raced on old stretches of road, homemade courses, and even through the
streets of dilapidated wards like this one. Most of these were run by
gangs, and it wasn't uncommon for people to end up dead at those black
races.
The man atop the red crotch-rocket was leaning forward, his
stomach almost touching the gas tank. He wore a Moto pilot's outfit, a
synth-leather jumpsuit; red on top and black on bottom, black knee-high
boots of the same material, and a red helmet with a nomex shell.
Suits such as this were meant to stand up to considerable abuse, and were
required on the circuit. A pair of stormy blue eyes peered out from behind
the helmet's visor, and a hint of a pigtail peeked out of the back.
As he rode towards his destination, he cursed his worthless father
for the umpteenth time. The fat bastard had the gall to sign him to a season
contract with a team he'd never bloody heard of before. And what really
chapped his ass was that there was nothing he could do about it. Being that
he was only sixteen, his father literally owned his Moto career.
Oh, well, at least it was better than the backstreet races he'd
been in for, well, most of his life. He swore to himself that he would make
the most of the opportunity, even though he hated it. The thought brought
up memories of Ranko... He pushed them into the back of his mind, where he
kept them locked away. Then, through the drizzle, he saw a green, neon-lit
sign: Tendo Moto Training Complex.
Time to begin, then.
==================================
The garage was clean, as far as garages went. The tools were all organized
on the wall racks and in the toolboxes, and the floor was
clean, aside from the oil and other fluid stains. Spare Moto parts, most
still in their original packages, lined one of the walls. Junk parts were
stacked in a pile near the recycling bin.
In the center of the room, a Moto sat with one of its side panels
removed. Its powerful engines were exposed to the brown-haired woman
kneeling in front of it. Her hair was tied in a simple ponytail that hung
down her back. She wore light blue coveralls with the team logo
embroidered on the back. The sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, grease
smeared in places along the arms and gloves. Her face had a few smudges on
it as well, which strangely set off her deep brown eyes and slight smile.
"Kasumi." She immediately recognized the voice from the intercom.
"Yes, Father?"
===============================
The medium-sized space was immaculate to say the least.
Everything in the room was organized, every detail in its proper place.
Behind the desk in the center of the room, sat a woman who both conformed to
and defied the conditions of the room.
Her attitude was no nonsense, but her attire left little to the
imagination. A halter and cut-off shorts weren't exactly clothes one
would wear around the office. Nabiki Tendo, however, was known for setting
her own rules. As she pored over the teams' balance sheet, she heard the
vid-phone chime. Glancing at the small screen on her desk, she recognized
her father's name.
"What is it, daddy?" she asked, just a hint of irritation in her
voice.
"Come, Nabiki, I have something to tell you." With that, he cut
off the transmission, leaving Nabiki to wonder just what the old fool was
going on about. She hated interruptions, and her father hardly had
anything worth saying these days. Heaving an irritated sigh, she rose from
her plush corinthian leather chair, and walked toward the door. Might as
well see what the old codger wanted.
================================
The house proper was done in a traditional Japanese style.
Sliding doors, tatami mats, low tables, the whole shebang. Soun and his
two daughters sat in the dining room. While Kasumi, who was somewhat
cleaner than she was in the garage, and Nabiki waited for his big
announcment, Soun was trying to gauge just how much to tell them. Kasumi,
bless her, would just smile and bear it. Nabiki, well, she would try to find
the monetary worth of it. Akane, though, would probably be glad to
hear the news.
"Well, daddy, what's the big news?" asked Nabiki. Her mask of
indifference was firmly in place. Clearing his throat, Soun began.
"Girls, we're getting a new pilot." Kasumi kept smiling. A new
Moto to fix! Nabiki scowled at him.
"A new pilot? You bought the contract of another pilot?"
"Yes."
"And why wasn't I informed?" Nabiki hated being left out of
decisions like this. Besides, her father didn't know his ass from a hole
in the ground sometimes.
"Because I thought he could be an asset to this team." Soun with
a slight undertone of anger. He didn't like having his decisions
questioned.
"Who is he, Father?" asked Kasumi in her usual sweet voice.
"His name is Ranma Saotome. He's the son of my good friend, Genma
Saotome." Nabiki groaned inwardly at the news. She should have known her
father would pull some half-baked stunt like this. Steadying her voice, she
asked,
"How long did you buy his contract for?"
"One season." Nabiki nearly face-faulted. No probation run, just
buy the contract and damn the consequences. This was just WONDERFUL! Well,
might as well make the best of it.
"How good is he?" asked Kasumi. This was one of the questions
Soun
was dreading. Soun was saved, though, by the computer's chime for attention.
"What is it?" asked Soun.
"Sir, one Ranma Saotome is outside. He says you're expecting him."
came the androgynous voice of the complex's computer. Soun's eyes lit up
like a kid's on Christmas. Finally! He spun on his heels and charged out
into the hallway, Kasumi and Nabiki following at a more sedate pace.
=========================
So THIS is the Tendo Moto Training Complex, thought Ranma as he
walked through the covered entryway, heading into the house proper. His
helmet was in tucked under his right arm, his outfit damp from the
drizzle outside. He gazed around, taking in the area around the
complex.
The complex itself was rather small. A house in the traditional
style that connected to a garage, what looked like a gym, and a
holo-trainer. Ranma didn't really care for holo-trainers, preferring
instead to train out in real world conditions. The gym, on the other
hand, drew his eye. He had a feeling he'd spend a lot of time there.
Suddenly, a door slid open, and a man in a brown three-piece with long
black hair and a black moustache charged out and glomped him.
"OH, MY SON! I'M SO HAPPY YOU'RE HERE!" Son? What the hell was
he talking about? One thing was for sure, he had one hell of a bear hug.
Ranma's lungs burned and his head felt light from lack of oxygen. He
tapped the man's shoulder, trying to get his attention.
"Father, I think you're suffocating him." came a voice from
behind the brown wall trying to crush him. Finally, the man relented, and
Ranma was left standing there, gasping for breath. He looked at the two
girls behind him. One had brown hair, and was wearing blue coveralls. The
faint smears on her arms and face professed her as a mechanic. The other,
however, was unreadable. Ranma gawked a little, and turned away. He didn't
want to look like a pervert.
"Uh... I'm Ranma Saotome. Who are you?" If any of them were
offended by Ranma's lack of manners, they didn't show it.
"I'm Soun Tendo." the man replied, tears streaming down his face.
These are my daughters, Kasumi and Nabiki." he finished, indicating the
two in order. Kasumi, ever the gracious hostess, bowed, and offered to
show Ranma around the complex.
"Nah, thanks. I'd just like a shower, and some sleep." Still
smiling, Kasumi led him into the foyer. Soun was in tears from happiness,
and Nabiki just stared after them. She had to admit...he WAS cute. Maybe
he'd turn out to be a good pilot, too. He certainly looked it.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I'm home!" Akane called out as she walked into the house. Her
father would probably be in his office. The clock on the wall flashed
5:00 pm, which meant Kasumi would be cooking. She didn't smell dinner,
which was unusual. Perhaps Kasumi was busy?
Akane had been fuming since the race ended. She couldn't BELIEVE she'd lost
to some non-affiliated HACK! Nabiki would no doubt chew her out for losing.
A fifteen thousand yen purse could go a long way, as Nabiki would be certain
to hammer into her skull relentlessly. Though
she loved her sister, Akane sometimes wanted to strangle her. Lost in her
thoughts, she almost missed her father standing in the hallway, an
inexplicably happy look on his face.
"Akane, I'm glad you're home." He said, a giddy note in his voice.
Maybe he hadn't yet recieved the news.
"Hi, dad." she replied. "I'm sorry..."
"About the race?" Soun asked. "Don't worry about it."
Now THAT was odd. Usually losing meant many long hours in the holo-trainer.
But happily dismissing it? Something was definitely up
here.
"Dad, are you feeling all right?" she asked.
"Yes, yes, yes." he repiled impatiently. Eyes twinkling
mischeviously, he said, "I have a surprise for you."
"Oh?" she asked. "What?"
"Not what." he said as they started the walk into the foyer.
"Who."
"Huh?" Had her father gone off his nut?
"I hired a new pilot."
Akane squealed with delight, embracing him fiercely. The air in Soun's
lungs came out in a rush as Akane's strong arms gripped him in what felt
like a death-lock. Now she wouldn't have to shoulder the burden of racing by
herself!
"How did you afford it?" she asked, her voice high with delight.
"Nevermind that, Akane." Soun replied. "He's in the foyer with
Kasumi and Nabiki." Happily, she followed him into the foyer to meet
their new pilot.
The sound of voices floated down the hall from the well-lit family
room. One, a male voice, was entirely unfamiliar. That had to be him.
Akane stepped in the room, looked at the new pilot, and froze. He turned
and looked at her, recognition flickering in his eyes.
"YOU!?" they both shouted.
"Oh, my. Do you know each other?" Kasumi asked. Nabiki looked interested in
the proceedings, now.
Akane saw the outfit, and the build, and she knew who he was. It
was that... that... ASSHOLE from the race! The one who rode in her
slipstream, cut her off, and stole the win!
Ranma instantly recognized the slowpoke from the race earlier
that day. He had to admit, she gave him a little bit of a run, but in the
end, she was too slow to keep up, and he told her so.
The last thing Ranma saw before everything went black was that
enraged girl's fist flying at his face.
===========================================
Questions? Comments? Pass 'em on!
Jed