Subject: [FFML] [Ranma][VGAi][Fanfic] Video Girl? I? episode 2
From: UkyouKwnji@aol.com
Date: 6/23/2000, 6:53 PM
To: ffml@fanfic.com

===============
VIDEO GIRL?  I?
A Ranma 1/2-Video Girl Ai fusion
by Ukyou Kuonji
===============
Ranma 1/2 is the creation of Rumiko Takahashi
Video Girl Ai is the creation of Masakaza Katsura
No permission requested, no infringement intended
===============

episode 2: Stranger in Paradise

Konatsu turned the card over and over between his fingers.  *This* was what 
had the Mistress so rattled?

That afternoon, Ukyou-sama had charged, wild-eyed and dishevelled, into the 
Ucchan, darted upstairs to her apartment, and locked herself in, leaving 
Konatsu to tend to the customers himself.  Which was all right with him: he'd 
intended to let the Mistress take the whole day off to go shopping, and she 
had come back much earlier than he'd expected, so it wasn't as if he'd been 
left in the lurch.

But the way she'd come home... clearly, she had gotten neither rest nor 
relaxation from her time off, and her kunoichi was concerned.  He was going 
to have to pay a visit to this place... Gokuraku, was it?  and find out what 
happened.

He turned the name over in his mind, much as his fingers absently continued 
to turn over the business card the Mistress had dropped in her rush upstairs. 
 Gokuraku... Paradise.  The kunoichi snorted quietly, a truly strange sound 
to those nearby who heard it.  More like Hell, judging from the Mistress.  
Still, he didn't worry about the prospect of visiting such a place.

After all, in his days working at the Sexy Ninja Teahouse, he'd seen his 
stepsisters naked.  There are certain terrors even Hell can't match.

***

The way of the ninja, a fabled legacy of old Japan, is a dying art in its 
homeland, and it's not that hard to see why.  The province of the ninja, 
after all, is darkness and silence, and there's precious little of that left 
in hyper-urbanized Japan.  So Konatsu was feeling understandably silly, 
standing in front of the Gokuraku video store that night, bathed in the crisp 
mercury vapor of the streetlight behind him, and blinking owlishly in the 
face of the store's own neon and flourescent lights.   He may have been 
swathed in the traditional black garments of the ninja, but he might as well 
have had a spotlight on him.

He pushed back the cowl of his cloak, and unwound the wrappings that 
concealed his face.  Stealth was pointless in a place like this.  Besides, 
the blazing lights of the Gokuraku suggested that the place was open for 
business; while he would have preferred to confront the owner outside of 
business hours, this would have to do.  Besides, at least this way there was 
guaranteed to be *someone* to confront.

*rattle-rattle*  Assuming the door would open, that is.  Now, why in heaven's 
name would they leave the lights burning so furiously if the place were 
closed and locked up for the night?

Konatsu decided not to dwell on the question; he'd planned to slip in quietly 
after hours, anyway.  The lights just made it that much more of a challenge.  
Crouching by the door, he brought out a thin wire from the folds of his 
outfit.  Carefully, he eased the wire into the lock, jiggled it around a bit, 
and leaned on the door...

...which practically flew open, propelling him into the shop.  He landed on 
his hands and knees, staring at the carpet... and at a white hair ribbon, 
neatly cut in two pieces, along with a number of strands of chestnut hair.  
The Mistress' hair.

After standing up and brushing himself off, he looked around to see if anyone 
had noticed his inelegant entrance.  There was no one.  The place was clean, 
well-lit... and deserted.  Only the rows and rows of video tapes stared at 
him accusingly as he prowled his way through the store.  He *knew* it was 
only his imagination, but he could swear he could feel the pictures on the 
tapes watching him.  He could hear the girls breathing in the stillness of 
the empty store, and was starting to understand what Mistress Ukyou had found 
so unnerving about the place.

"May I help you?"  With that, an alarmed Konatsu suddenly found himself 
instinctively clutching the nearest ceiling-mounted flourescent light, while 
an old man looked up in no small astonishment and chagrin.

"You're the second customer today that's done that, more or less.  I suppose 
I really should try to give our customers a little more warning.  Need help 
getting down?"

By way of reply, Konatsu let go of the light, flipped himself over like a 
cat, and landed silently on his feet.  More intrigued than frightened by the 
old man's sudden appearance, he asked, "What clan are you from, sir?"

"Clan?"

"Yes... you *are* from a ninja clan, aren't you?  There's no way you could 
have sneaked up on me like that unless you were trained in the Art..."

At this, the old man laughed; a hearty, good-natured laugh.  "No, my dear 
girl, I'm no ninja."  He patted his stomach as his smile faded to a rueful 
grin.  "I'm in no shape to be a martial artist of any sort, really.  But I 
have been able to do some rather amazing things since we set up shop in this 
location.  Maybe it's the water..."

"Amazing... things?"  Konatsu doubted anything could surprise him, even less 
so from such an unprepossessing old fellow, but was quite curious.

"Well... like this."  The old man's face was somewhat perplexed, as if he 
still was unable to believe it himself, as he produced a business card.  
Placing it between his thumb and index finger, he flipped his wrist and sent 
the card spinning across the room, to land with a thunk into the opposite 
wall...

... where it was now embedded nearly a centimeter deep.

The kunoichi's eyes went wide, and his gaze dropped to the hair ribbon in his 
hand.  "So, that's what terrified the Mistress..."

"Mistress?  She's your... 'mistress'...?"  Konatsu nodded, slowly.  "So... 
you must be Konatsu."  He chuckled.  "And to think, I called you a girl 
earlier, didn't I?"

"You... know *me*?"

"We know much here, young *man*."  The proprietor put special emphasis on the 
word 'man', as if to correct his previous error.  "We know you and your, 
ah... 'mistress'... are pure of heart, otherwise you would not be able to 
find this store."  The old man peered intently at Konatsu.  "You more than 
her, I believe, but that's beside the point."  The kunoichi had no response 
to that remark, so the man continued.  "You see, I and my... business 
partner... have had a bit of a falling out.  He has gone his way, and I mine."

The old man shook his head in mild dismay.  "Though what he was doing in this 
business in the first place, I have no idea.  He just didn't understand..."  
His voice trailed off, staring out into space.  After a moment of silence, he 
shook himself.  "Terribly sorry about that.  I suppose you're wondering where 
you and your... ah... 'mistress'... figure into all this."

The kunoichi nodded, and the old man gazed at Konatsu, chuckling ruefully.  
"Remarkable... really quite a pity...

"All right, well... our stock-in-trade is in video girls.  Comfort for the 
broken-hearted.  But not just any broken heart, mind you.  Ours are for the 
noble heart that weeps for another's wounds despite its own grevious 
injuries.  Otherwise, well... things would turn out pretty much the way your, 
ah..."  Despite the repetitions, the word was clearly no easier for him to 
say.

Konatsu decided to offer him an out.  "You may call her Ukyou..." he barely 
resisted adding '-sama' at the end, "if you prefer."

"Yes... Ukyou.  Thank you.  I'm sure she thought she was being offered a job 
as a porn actress.  And of course she's not that kind of girl.  She wouldn't 
have been able to find us if she were, you understand.  That was nothing like 
what I was asking of her.

"You see, my problem is that the Gokuraku is a bit strapped for," and he 
paused, and rolled his eyes to the ceiling, as if the word he was searching 
for could be found burrowed in one of the holes in the acoustic tile, "new 
talent.  My partner was the one who would create the girls.  Brilliant 
fellow... a creative genius, he was.  Trouble was, he insisted on building 
gorgeous creatures with no humanity, and therefore no understanding of human 
suffering."  Another rueful shake of the head.  "What was he thinking?  How 
do you solve a problem you don't understand...?

"I'm sorry... I keep wandering from the topic, don't I?"  The kunoichi merely 
offered a weak grin and a shrug. 

"The thing is, I'm not a designer.  I can't just *create* video girls.  
Besides, those computer creations were cold and unfeeling, when you got down 
to it - by design."  Again, he shook his head a moment before continuing.  
"What I *can* do is construct one from a living, human template.

"Your... Ukyou... fits the bill.  She's not perfect, but she does try.  
That's all I ask."

Konatsu remained silent for a considerable length of time, to the point where 
the old man's face fell.  "I see.  Well, it was worth asking, I suppose.  You 
and your, ah... mistress... have my humblest apologies for causing you such 
trouble..."  and he turned to go.

The kunoichi blinked.  "No... wait..."

The old man stopped and turned back to face Konatsu.  His face was etched 
with sadness, but there was a light in his eyes that spoke of hope.  Hope in 
the good news that the kunoichi's next words might bring.

Konatsu could not bear to disappoint the man.  There was a feeling, in the 
furthest reaches of his mind, that there would be grave consequences were he 
to do so.  But he was powerless to offer any guarantees.  "I... I will talk 
with my Mistress... and see if I can persuade her..."

The hope sprung from the old man's eyes, and spread across his face.  "Thank 
you, my boy.  But you needn't talk to her if that makes you feel 
uncomfortable.  Here..."  and in his extended hand was a videotape, wrapped 
in kraft paper, and addressed and stamped as though it had been mailed to the 
Ucchan.  "Just tell her that this arrived for her."

"B-but..."

"Don't mention the mail.  Just tell her it arrived.  That it arrived with you 
is irrelevent."

Konatsu blinked several times.  "How do I make sure she watches it?"

The old man's smile grew broader with every second.  "Oh, she will.  Don't 
worry about that."

==========

Looks like I'm violating the cardinal rule of fiction in this chapter: show, 
don't tell.  All this exposition is pretty dull, and I apologize.  I'm 
considering getting Rolex (the aforementioned partner) into the mix 
eventually, and I hope this tape manages to plausibly persuade me to join up 
(why is the old man so confident, anyway?)

Special thanks go out to DF Roeder for believing in this project and 
encouraging me after the disasterous turn the first chapter took.  I hope 
chapter three doesn't prove to be so difficult.

Itsu mo,
Ucchan  ^_^


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