The following is a work of parody.

Fashionable Martial Artist Boy Ranma
by Kim Smuga-Otto
    Mr. Mitsumoto's pulse began to quicken; today was his lucky day.
It had always seemed the height of injustice that he, their next door neighbor no less, heard everything secondhand from his wife.  He blamed it on his salaryman's job in downtown Tokyo, its long hours, and the horrendous commute.  When he retired, his dream was to sit out on the balcony and do nothing but watch the goings on over at the neighbors'.
    Until then, he had to content himself with peering out the window every Sunday in the hopes that Nerima's celebrities would not also be taking the day off.  It had been a quiet day so far and Mitsumoto was beginning to despair when he saw the strangers, and strangers in this neighborhood invariably led to excitement.
    To the less observant, the old man and teenage girl approaching the Tendou dojo's residence would seemed disappointingly ordinary, no obvious weapons or exotic pets.  Mitsumoto knew better.  The man was dressed in a gi, surely a martial artist, and the teenage girl, despite her look of exasperation, was the picture of Japanese cuteness.   With this combination, Mitsumoto's afternoon entertainment was guaranteed.
    "Yokiko!"  He called to his wife, "You've got to come and see this."


    Mrs. Mitsumoto was exasperated.  Wasn't she supposed to be the nosy and inquisitive one?  She could swear that the tatami mat by the window needed to be replaced twice as often due to her husband's pacing there.  When he retired, she wanted them to move to Yoshino and open a restaurant overlooking a valley of cherry trees.
    "Just a moment," she called back to him, "The dashi's about to boil and I'll need to take the konbu out or it will smell."
    "Never mind.  They've gone inside.  Ah, wouldn't I love to know what's happening next..."  Paper-thin walls made conversations easy.
    "I'm sure you will, you've got a regular subscription to the Tendou girl's newsletter, don't you."
    "But it's so second-hand.  I'd love to be part of it, wouldn't you?"
    "There was the time the duck crashed through the ceiling into your bath." She reminded him.
    "True," he chuckled.  "Can I eat my lunch over here, just in case?"
    Mrs. Mitsumoto sighed, thinking of cherry blossoms.


    Kasumi was glad Happosai hadn't chosen today to stop by.  There might not be enough food as is, the strange visitor seemed to have a bottomless stomach.
    "We have unfinished business with Mr. Saotome." He said between mouthfuls.  "When we met, many years ago, he spoke of his art, of the superiority of his school's techniques...  delicious udon unagi, by the way, nice and traditional.  You don't happen to have any more, do you?"
Kasumi nodded, and as she entered the kitchen she heard the man continue.  "He also spoke of his son, and the expenses of training and raising the boy . . ."


    Soun felt a familiar sense of dread as he guessed the story.  His friend Genma had, as usual, with promises of a strong husband and united households, weaseled food and accommodations from this na�ve old man.  It was embarrassing to see a person so gullible.


    Gemna was thinking hard.  You tell a person you've been travelling and training for over ten years and they don't realize the sheer distance and number of people you meet along the way.  After while it all becomes a blur.
    At a certain point, he'd drafted up a standard contract, but he had a feeling this old guy was from before that.  What had he promised and how could he put a positive spin on it?  Or failing that, what was the best way to accidentally fall into the fish pond?
    "And so we came to an agreement," the old man continued, "We would settle his various debts, and then, when our children were of age -"
    "Grandpa!" the girl cried, "You didn't!"
    "Why not?  You and this boy will fight it out, to prove that judo is indeed the finest martial art.  Now go get ready, Yawara!"


    Ranma was feeling trapped.  He didn't fight girls.  But it would forever shame the his school, his name, and his masculinity if he didn't soundly pummel this girl, at least that was his father's expert opinion.
    Across the room, Akane was glaring full force.  If he won the fight she'd call him a hypocritical bully.  And if he threw the fight, well he was sure she'd come up with some reason to be mad at him for that as well.  A guy just couldn't win.
    He cleared his mind, focusing on the girl he was required to best.  She wore a simple gi and has no apparent weapons.
    "I'm really sorry about this," she said with genuine regret, "But my Grandfather can be the most stubborn idiot when it comes to the art."
    "No need to explain," said Ranma.
    "I'm just glad he didn't arrange for the media to show up.  Or . . ." Ranma followed her confused glance over to where Nabiki was setting up her tripod.
    "Don't worry," he assured her, "that's for private distribution only."


    Nabiki was cutting it close.  Her efforts to postpone the event has failed, depriving her of betting revenue.  She'd had barely enough time to grab her camera, much less a bucket of water.  More the pity, since apparently Judo was a wrestling sport with plenty of tight holds.  Well, she could always Photoshop something up later.
    She set the camera to rapidfire mode, checked her pockets for spare film, and turned to the girl's grandfather who was even now happily consuming the last of yesterday's leftover fried squid.  What approach should she use for her sales pitch?  He was an old coot, probably meek female was best.
    "Honorable Sir, may I-" was all she could manage before he interrupted her, his head bobbing up and down with enthusiasm.
    "But of course.  And you're in luck, I have a copy right here."  From some hidden dimension he produced a paperback book featuring a younger version of himself on the cover.  "How would you like it inscribed?"


    Yawara was incredibly embarrassed.  She should have known her grandfather had something up his sleeve when he proposed that they take the train to Nerima to catch a special advance showing of the new Hugh Grant movie.
    The sooner she was done with this match the better.  Carefully, Yawara eyed her opponent.  His stance alone convinced her he was a formidable foe, strong and almost certainly fast.
    Still, he seemed distracted and not quite focused.  With sudden clarity, she realized he wouldn't make the first move.


    "Ippon!" Shouted the Grandfather though a mouthful of pocky sticks.
    Akane almost shrieked with joy.  Ranma had lost!  That loudmouthed, arrogant, patronizing idiot had lost.  And to a girl no less.  She felt like dancing.
    When Yawako or whatever her name had made the first lunge, Ranma had resorted to his standard move-an-inch-out-of-range dodge.  But he had forgotten about Kasumi's recent mastery of the art of starching shirts, because his clothing wasn't so agile.  He was caught.  Ranma tried to slip out of the hold, but that was what she wanted.  In a motion so fluid it must have been practiced every day of her life, the girl twisted, curled, and kicked back her leg, sending Ranma over her body and into the floor.     He'd attempted one of his mid-air twists, but her movements were too fast, too tight.  Even now he was just lying there, a dazed look on his face.  He was probably in shock.
    Still, thought Akane, he should be getting up right now, demanding a rematch.  After all, this was Ranma.  He shouldn't be accepting that girl's hand to sit up.  He shouldn't be listening to her apologies.  He shouldn't be congratulating her on a good match.
    Akane realized she was no longer in a good mood.


    Jigoro was hungry, but that was his natural state and besides he'd spied an okonomiyaki restaurant on the corner.
    More importantly, he was very satisfied.  Not only had Yawara demonstrated the superiority of Judo over that half-baked, startup martial art, but he'd also hatched a plan to keep his granddaughter focused on her training.  That youngest Tendou girl had strength, as was evidenced by the way that she threw her defeated fianc�e through the dojo wall, but it was the determination and glee in her eyes as she stalked after him with the mallet that convinced Jigoro that she would make an ideal rival to Yawara.  Nothing like competition to strengthen a person's resolve.
    Now all he had to do was devise the perfect sales pitch to convince her.

copyright July 2001 Kim Smuga-Otto

Authors note:  For those of you not familiar, Fashionable Judo Girl Yawara is a manga and anime that came out at the same time as Ranma 1/2.  I'm sure that there are numerous Japanese fanfics and dojins devoted to Yawara/Ranma cross-overs, but I have yet to see one in English (Sincere apologies in advance to any authors who have explored such a cross-over)  Finally, I encourage any one interested in Yawara's Ippon to check out the manga or anime; it is a martial art move of true beauty.




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