From: mrthou@juno.com
To: ffml@fanfic.com
Subject: [FFML] [Fic][R1/2][Humor]Check Back Later - Chapter 01
Date: Fri, 19 Jan 2001 14:00:44 -0800
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-- File: CBL01.txt
Check Back Later
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfiction
By MrThou
Disclaimer: I disclaim any ownership of the characters in this story.
They were created by Rumiko Takahashi. I'm just borrowing them for a
bit.
To see the HTML version of this story visit www.fanfiction.net and
search for 'mrthou' as the author. Alternately, use the title. The
web version has much nicer footnotes.
Chapter 1
==========
The rain came down on Nerima. It was a perfectly ordinary rain; not
particularly heavy, nor particularly light. It fell in a particularly
downward direction--as rain has a tendency to do--and trickled through
the streets to form particularly ordinary pools.
In fact the only way in which this rain was at all significant-
-because, after all, it was just rain--was in the effect it had on one
Ranma Saotome, a short, busty redheaded girl who happens to be the main
character of this hopefully humorous story.
Ranma Saotome, or as she preferred to be called, Ranma Joketsu(1),
was, in fact, a rain goddess. It wasn't something she was consciously
aware of, but it was still something she had to live with. Over the last
few months, ever since a fight with a couple of Musk warriors took them
too close to Jusenkyo, she had been almost constantly rained on. This
was not because she called the rain. Rather, it was because the clouds
themselves could sense Ranma's divinity, and followed her around
worshiping her--which, not coincidentally, involved much joyous
downpour.
Over the last six months, Ranma had categorized over one hundred and
ten different types of rain, and hated them all. The system covered the
entire spectrum of rain: from the light, stinging sprinkle (#12, 13,
& 15), to the blattering torrential downpour (#68-74). It included
twelve varieties of drizzle (#99 - 110), fourteen different kinds of
splattering (#1 - 11, 14, 16, 17; a very common rain type in mountainous
China), and even the annoying, almost horizontal rains that accompany
high winds, ranging from light (#64-66) to moderate (#83 & 84) to
blindingly harsh (#92-98).
This particular rain was #115, a special rain that was a hybrid of
types #42, 45, and 67. She was somehow certain the clouds had invented
it just to celebrate her return to Japan. (As it turns out, she was
right. The clouds were currently celebrating their equivalent of a
homecoming, and decided to honor their deity with a freshly composed
rainfall.) She especially hated all the rains above 100, since they all
made seeing difficult, and seemed to be nothing more that creative
variations on all the other types of precipitation she loathed.
Ranma had not seen the sun in almost a month. She was wet, cold, and
without shelter. Needless to say, this made her a bit grumpy.
And so, she wandered down the street, gritting her teeth and
enduring the number 115 precipitation, on her way to Furinkan High
School.
I suppose #116 is that annoying kind of rain that bounces off of any and
every surface within one hundred miles just so it can get into your eye?
And the clouds followed, weeping tears of joy and adoration on the
head of their goddess(2).
----------
(1) Serious note here. Joketsu means 'courageous woman'. Zoku can mean
family or tribe. So Joketsuzoku literally means courageous women tribe.
Or as Viz translates it, Amazons.
(2) Actually, clouds express emotions in much the same way that Soun
Tendo does.
I can't imagine who would be more insulted by that remark. Soun, or the
clouds?
----------
At that particular moment, a crowd had gathered miserably in front
of the steps of Furinkan. They were segregated, rather clearly, into two
groups: those who were getting ready to fight, and those who were
getting ready to watch the fight, but were too stupid to watch from
inside the building (and out of the #115 rain).
A tall young man dressed in kendo garb was standing around, shouting
orders and making threats, which the group sullenly obeyed. As the
throng watched, more students filtered in, some circling the group
carefully and entering the building, others stopping to swell the ranks
of observers or fighters. A few of the brighter ones were holding
umbrellas.
It should be pointed out that the group of fighters was completely
male, although the observers were a mixed lot. This was not a
coincidence.
This was the sight that greeted Ranma upon her arrival. She'd been
involved in enough school brawls to see when a mob was spoiling for a
fight. Granted, the situation was different, as she wasn't the object of
their antagonism, but she could change that fairly easily, which would
put her on more familiar ground.
She debated it for a half second, before remembering that the
shortest distance between two points was a straight line. She was cold,
wet, and grumpy, and if their were thirty or forty boys between her and
the school doors, well...
She smirked, and whispered to herself, "Stress relief."
"Well boys," she called, dropping her bag and assuming a fighting
stance, "are you gonna let me pass, or do things hafta get ugly?"
The kendoist looked her over breifly, and dismissed her. "Fear not,
fair one, it is not you we are here to confront. You may go around, and
we will not stop you."
Ranma's smirk transformed into a wicked grin. "Or I could just go
right through you."
It was at that moment, naturally, that the mob's true target ran
through the gates.
Oh, naturally. Not as if a certain author willed it to happen, eh?
----------
The target of the mob was a seventeen-year-old girl with long black
hair, whose height was slightly greater than that of this story's
protagonist, and whose bust size was slightly less. She probably would
not take issue with the former. The latter, however, would likely offend
her, if it were unduly flaunted(3). Her name was Akane Tendo, and she
was currently angry.
This was not an unusual thing for her, although she had gotten
better over the last year or so. Still, everyone knew her temper, by
reputation if not by experience. Over the last two weeks, her temper had
regressed noticeably, for a very simple reason: The Challenge.
The Challenge was a very simple concept, presented by a very simple
mind. As one Tatewaki Kuno had pompously declared, "If you can defeat
Akane Tendo in combat, you may date with her. I will permit no other
terms."
And it was very simply Annoying.
Sound familiar?
The Challenge was rather unoriginal. It had very little to recommend
it, and much Empirical Evidence that said it was a very bad idea.
Empirical Evidence, in fact, said that what is about to happen, happened
repeatedly about a year ago, under much the same circumstances. Since
nobody was listening to him--or for that matter--to common sense,
reason, logic, or any of Evidence's other siblings, they gave up, and
joined the intelligent boys and girls inside the school(4).
"I hate boys...Hate boys...Hate Boys...HATE BOYS!!!" And with that,
she charged through the gate, tossing her umbrella to the side.
She noticed a short, redheaded girl in worn Chinese clothing jumping
quickly out of her way. Akane didn't have time to worry about her,
however, as she was assaulted from three sides by a hoard of boys.
She charged at the nearest group, jumping into the air and kicking
out at several attackers. She landed, grabbing an outstretched arm and
throwing its owner at the group closing from behind. Whirling and
dodging, throwing punches and the occasional well-placed kick, she
worked her way through the mob.
About half way through, she noticed she was not alone. The little
redhead had joined in, and was bouncing around like a superball on
speed, scattering all who approached her. There was something familiar
about her style, but Akane just shrugged it off. She had more important
things to deal with.
Those more important things were finished about a minute later, thus
proving Empirical Evidence--who had stopped by again briefly to gloat-
-to be correct. Akane stopped to toss her long ponytail over her
shoulder, then she turned and glared at the redhead.
"I didn't need your help," she said angrily.
The redhead shrugged, unperturbed, and brushed away the hair that
was plastered to her face. Akane idly noticed that she wore her hair in
a braided pigtail. "Nah, you didn't. But it's selfish ta hog all the
fun, don't cha think?" and she winked. She toed a boy who was lying in
front of her, rolling him over. "Light entertainment, though," she said
depreciatingly.
Or 'lean,' or 'fat free,' or 'new and improved.' Well, not improved... or
really new, come to think of it.
It was then that the kendoist made an attempt at a dramatic
entrance. The effect was completely lost, in light of his wet and
bedraggled appearance. He persevered, however, in the face of such
adversity, as befitted one of his station. He threw something at Akane,
but the shorter girl intercepted it.
"A rose, for me?" and she fluttered her eyelids outrageously. "You
shouldn't have, really. I mean, we just met."
The boy smiled at her, oblivious to the sarcasm(5). "Nay, fair one,
it was a gift for the lovely and fierce Akane Tendo."
Akane bristled. "Well Upperclassman, shall we get on with it? Or are
you going to spout some bad poetry first?"
In the usual Ranmaverse, Akane's next line might be, 'Looks like it's going
to be the second one.'
The redhead looked over at her and mumbled "Tendo?" Akane ignored
her, and focused on the Kendoist.
"Very well, Miss Tendo. For your sake, I shall defeat you, and then
you may date with me."
The redhead jumped between them. "What the hell is goin' on?" She
turned to the kendoist. "What type of honor-less bastard fights women so
he can date 'em?."
A flash of anger crossed the boy's face, to be replaced a moment
later by haughty amusement. He pointed his bokuto at her. "Know this,
girl. You stand before the greatness of Tatewaki Kuno, reigning high
school Tokyo Kendo champion, and the one called Blue Thunder of Furinkan
High. I give you a choice. Flee, or fight." With that, he stabbed his
practice sword heavenward, and lightning flashed, and thunder pealed.
I hate to nitpick, and somebody please flame me if I have this backwards,
but Kuno usually keeps a bokken by his side, and not a bokuto. In fact, I
can't recall him actually using one, though he might have. A bokken is made
of wood, carved in the shape of a kitana blade, only very dull. A bokuto is
made of bamboo, and doesn't usually feature a distinct 'edge.'
But a bokuto is a practice sword; I consider a bokken to be an actual
weapon, known here in the states as a 'club.'
From a first floor window, a girl with shoulder length brown hair
poked her head out and shouted, "Hey, Kuno-chan, get a better name. What
ever happened to 'Shooting Star'." And she laughed.
Kuno pretended not to hear, but the redhead didn't miss it.
She laughed. "Very well, oh mighty Blue Thunder. Look upon a master
of the Jusendo school of wu-shu, sixth dan kempo, champion of the
Chinese Amazons. I am Ranma Joketsu, and I give you the option. Flee, or
fight."
Kuno screamed, and charged at Ranma. Her hand lashed out, deflecting
the wooden practice sword. The other arm came up, and landed a punch to
his sword arm and an oddly percussive blow to his chest. Ranma whirled
away, and Kuno froze in place.
Everyone stared.
His sword clattered to the ground, and the crowd gasped.
Especially since said sword was suddenly made of metal.
With a ponderous motion, Tatewaki Kuno waved his arms and toppled
over, looking for all the world like he was trying to fly. The results
of his attempt were somewhat lacking, however, as he completely and
utterly failed to miss the ground. He made up for it slightly by
remembering to miss his consciousness.
The bell rang.
The rain continued to fall.
... and the band played on.
"SHIT!" the redhead shouted. I'm late!" With that, she picked up her
bag, and ran into the building, leaving Akane and the others staring in
her wake.
----------
(3) This is called foreshadowing.
(4) They then encountered the Principle, and promptly left the city
altogether.
(5) Of course, most would contend that Kuno is simply oblivious, and
Ranma and Akane would certainly agree.
----------
School had always been difficult for Ranma. This was not because she
was stupid--although certain people would argue that she was. It was,
rather, because she hardly ever got to attend. It had nothing to do with
martial arts, or so her father said, and so, it was therefore useless.
She had gone to school only to fulfill the laws requirements that she do
so.
As a result, Ranma was behind the class. Actually, that didn't even
begin to cover it. Although she could read and write--in both Japanese
and Mandarin, and even a bit of English--her grammar was sloppy, she had
no concept of the sciences, and she couldn't solve anything harder than
basic arithmetic and algebra.
All this was of course blamed on the Chinese school system, as
Ranma's falsified records proclaimed her to be an exchange student.
She arrived late to class after filling out some paperwork at the
office. The teacher stopped her droning for a moment as Ranma approached
him and handed him a sheet of paper.
"Class," the homeroom teacher said, reading the slip, "we have a new
student today. She's an exchange student from China, so be sure to help
her if she has any questions. Now let's give her a big Nihao welcome."
Ranma was familiar with this procedure. She'd gone to many different
schools while she was with her father, and every time had to go through
this same dumb introduction. She decided that this time would be a bit
different. She assumed an empty-headed expression.
"Nihao, I is Ranma Joketsu," she said in a stereotypical Chinese
fashion. "Ranma is too too happy to be here in Japan. Is very different
from Amazon village."
Someone in the back row snickered.
"Hey. You no make fun of Ranma, or else what happen outside today,
happen to you." She then struck a ridiculous fighting stance, and the
class burst out laughing.
Ranma dropped the Chinese accent and grinned. "Well, you should hear
what a Japanese accent sounds like in Mandarin. It ain't pretty."
"Well, Miss Joketsu, thank you for that performance," the teacher
said. "Now why don't you take that seat over there, by Miss Tendo."
And so class got back under way, and Ranma opened her grammar book,
turned to the appropriate page, and tried to follow along in class. She
failed utterly, most likely due to the fact that the teacher was
teaching math.
Hmmm... this does explain the Chinese school system...
----------
Akane Tendo was standing in the hall, a bucket in each hand, and
seething in frustration. A large part of her aggravation was standing to
her left, also holding two buckets, whistling softly. That person was
Ranma Joketsu.
The incident that had landed her in the hall started innocently
enough. Everyone was curious about the new girl, and started to
furiously pass notes to Ranma. Where did she get that ring? Was she
single? Available? What about that pigtail? Was her hair naturally red,
or dyed? Of course, Akane could only guess at the contents of the notes;
it would have been rude to actually read them.
Akane herself was fairly curious. Where did she learn the Anything
Goes style? As far as she knew, there were only two families that
practiced it, and the heir to the other family's school was dead. Or so
she had been told. Did this girl know Uncle Saotome? Her style seemed
remarkably similar. Come to think about it, didn't Uncle have a son
named Ranma? She kept glancing over at the redhead. And why was she
reading her grammar book in math class?
After relaying several notes from other girls to Ranma, Akane was
surprised to have one handed back. She read it to herself.
"Ranma, watch out for Akane. I think she likes you."
In a school full of idiots, a few working brain cells banded together and
decided NOT to sign this particular note, remembering what had happened
_last_ time...
It would be easy to jump to the conclusion that Akane Tendo was gay,
however fallacious that would be. After all, she didn't have a
boyfriend. She repeatedly turned down the advances of Upperclassman
Kuno, who was widely regarded as the most popular boy in school. In
fact, she regularly professed her hatred of boys in general. If she
didn't like boys, obviously she must like girls.
Because they're so squeezable and huggable and loveable and Mmm!
Akane Tendo, of course, loudly denounced this claim. Most people
were smart enough not to say anything to her face after one boy was
given a dislocated shoulder and a broken pubic arch for publicly calling
her a lesbian. It didn't change many opinions, but it did quiet the
gossip that reached her ears.
Obviously, though, natural selection had missed one idiot. Akane
abruptly stood up and started to glow, determined to correct nature's
oversight.
An eraser had hit the side of her head, and the teach cried, "Tendo!
Buckets, hall. Now!"
And that was how she ended up in the hall, doing bucket duty.
Ranma joined her in the hall a few minutes later.
Akane was already feeling a bit upset, so she said the first thing
that popped in her head, regardless of whether it made sense or not.
Fortunately, it was at least coherent.
"This is all your fault."
"Oh, well, if you say so... It ain't important, anyway."
"Because you were... wait. What did you say?"
"It's my fault."
"Oh. Well, so long as we agree..."
Ranma started laughing.
Akane was not accustomed to being laughed at. So she said, "So tell
me, why were you reading your grammar book in math class?"
Ranma looked at her with a strange expression on her face. "It
wasn't grammar class?"
"No."
"You're sure?"
"Positive."
"It was math class, and not grammar class?"
"Yes." Akane was a bit annoyed. "Why do you keep asking? Are 'yes'
and 'no' too difficult for you?"
"Nah, I just like bein' annoying."
"..." was the best reply Akane could come up with.
NOW we're getting somewhere!
Nothing happened for a moment. Then it happened again. After the
third time Ranma got annoyed and decided to stop nothing from happening
again.
"So. I bet you're wonderin' where I learned Anything Goes, right?"
Akane nodded.
"Good, well, 'cause I'm wonderin' the same thing. So. You know
Doctor Tofu? Good. Um. Meet me at his clinic after school, okay?"
"Why not just tell me now?"
The bell rang, and Ranma grinned. "That's why."
The door chose that moment to swing open violently. It was followed
too closely by a mob of students, and decided to protect itself by
rebounding off the wall and into said mob. This in turn made the wall
rather upset, and it retaliated by letting go of the door frame.
The resulting collision between the door and the floor did not
really upset either of them, but it did upset Ranma and Akane, as the
door took a strange bounce and smacked into Ranma's bucket.
A wet Ranma just looked up at the ceiling, and said "Well, at least
it can't get any worse(6)."
----------
Outside, lightning lit up the sky, and thunder rumbled ominously.
And whoever started that gig was presently suprised (not) to find a big fat
wad of cash in his/her mailbox the next morn.
----------
A boy at the front of the mob slipped on the expanding pool of
moisture and skidded right into the far wall. Another boy tried to avoid
him, and succeeded, but in the process knocked over a girl, who fell
backward into another.
One by one, like human dominoes, the boys and girls fell, until one
managed to fall sideways and into Ranma, who fell into Akane, who
dropped her buckets.
Back onto Ranma(7).
"... Why me?" Ranma tried to get up, and slipped, getting more
soaked in the process. "Help?"
----------
(6) Well, that was a mistake.
(7) It is a well-known law of all Ranmaverses that water will inevitably
find its way onto Ranma, regardless of form, and usually in ridiculous
and ludicrous ways and quantities.
==========
Author's notes:
Well, that concludes the first chapter of Check Back Later. If you
are lost or confused, don't feel too bad. You don't know what's going on
because it hasn't been explained yet.
Actually, I've been kicking this idea around for almost six months,
but I could never figure out exactly how I wanted to write it. Recently,
I was reading "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy", and came up with
the prologue. Comedy seemed to be the way to go.
If you are looking for some central plot of epic scale, you can stop
now. There isn't one, and if there is, it's entirely coincidental. I
reserve the right to deny or clarify the previous sentence.
Comments welcome, flames ignored. If you're going to rip apart my
story, at least be constructive.
Sorry, can't do neither.
Funny as hell, though, if that was something to laugh at.
Later,
Rick Spiff
'Insanity is our Specialty!" - Insanity Productions
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