Subject: [FFML] [Fanfic][Ranma/SM] Timed Vacation, chapter two
From: ukie
Date: 10/27/2003, 10:14 PM
To: ffml@anifics.com


October 5, 1997

10:20 AM

 

"You want me to WHAT?"  

 

Surprised at seeing only empty space in front of her, Setsuna 

turned her head towards the voice that came from the living room, 

her hands still against the wall.  She was sure she hadn't blinked, 

so how did he get away so fast?  She ran out after him.

 

"You have got to be kidding me!  Do you have any idea what's 

waiting back home for me -" three fianc�es, two Kunos, a pig, a 

duck, and a panda, plus a whole slew of deities whom he was sure 

he had offended in his past life to land him in all the mess he'd just 

left behind, his thought completed the sentence that he did not 

finish.  "You, you -" Ranma sputtered as he struggled for words, 

then took a few deep breaths to cool down when he found none.  

"No," he declared, "Absolutely no freaking way."

 

Finding her target backed up against the wall on the other end, she 

moved in to catch him.  Ranma fled into the space between the 

piano and the wall.  

 

"You don't understand," Setsuna said as she trailed after him, 

hands clutched to the front of her skirt and raising it slightly.  "My 

parents and relatives are all at the ceremony already, and you don't 

know how much I'd get laughed at if they found out I got jilted on 

my wedding day!  Plus," she went on, "if you'd just wear a pair of 

glasses and go without shaving for a week or two, you'd look close 

enough to my fianc�e anyway."  She placed herself squarely on the 

other side of the grand piano, waiting to see which way he'd go.  

"Oh, and lose the pigtail too," she added as an afterthought, "but 

we still have time to take care of that right now."

 

Ranma stared at her incredulously.  "You're not touching my hair," 

he said protectively, then made his move.

 

He feinted to the left.  She dashed to her right.  

 

He doubled back to the right.  She followed to her left.

 

An impasse.  

 

Seeing that this was going nowhere fast, Ranma tried another tactic.  

"Look," he said as soothingly as he could under the situation, 

"you're not thinking this through carefully.  I mean, you're 

probably a really nice girl and all, and pretty cute-" No, not going 

there again; he'd said the same thing to Ukyou and look where it 

got him in the end.  Pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts, 

he finally said, "No.  This is not going to work.  Besides, Takuya 

might have changed his mind.  In fact, he's probably waiting at the 

square for you right now."  

 

"But, the letter -"

 

"-was a mistake," Ranma interjected, "Like I said, Takuya's 

probably turned around.  I lived with him for a year, and I never 

saw him bring any girls home."  That includes you, he almost 

added, but thankfully held back at the last second.  Instead, he 

simply said, "He just didn't look the type that would play around."  

 

Truthfully, Takuya didn't look the type of just about anything, 

Ranma couldn't help but remember; the guy kept to himself so 

much that sometimes Ranma wondered whether he lived in the 

other room at all.  

 

"But, what if -" she tried to protest again, her tone weaker this 

time.

 

Sensing that he'd somehow gotten the upper hand, he didn't give 

her the chance to finish her objection.  "It's not about the 'what-

ifs', Meiou-san.  You have to make sure."

 

Setsuna went still.  "You really think he's there?"  She asked after 

a moment.

 

"I'm positive."  He was anything but.

 

"...okay," she agreed at last.  

 

The room fell silent again, leaving the two to their thoughts.  And a 

chance to really notice each other's presence again.  

 

Setsuna looked at Ranma.  Ranma looked at Setsuna's leg.  

 

Setsuna slowly brought her right leg down from the top of the 

piano, where she had attempted to climb over earlier.  "I, uh, I 

guess I made a fool of myself back there."  Ranma found it 

amazing that she could say something like that without actually 

sounding one bit embarrassed.  He nodded.

 

"You don't have to agree, you know?" She snapped.

 

He nodded again.

 

"Anyway," she started in a slightly miffed tone, then softened.  

"I'm sorry about the piano."

 

"Oh... don't worry 'bout it.  It's not like it got broken or 

anything," Ranma said dismissively.  Would've been a completely 

different story if I didn't stop you back there though, he noted to 

himself.

 

Setsuna afforded another look at the thing.  It looked almost 

ridiculously massive compared to the rest of the living room.  

"This... is not just a hobby, is it?"  She swept her arm in an arc in 

the air, vaguely pointing at the large instrument.  

 

"Yeah, I'm a music major at Gedai."  Seeing that she looked 

slightly surprised for some reason, he clarified.  "Actually, I've got 

a competition to go to this afternoon too."  Ironic, he thought; the 

way the sun cast a lone beam through the window and onto the 

bench just now made it look almost like a spotlight in a concert 

hall.

 

"I see..." she nodded absently. "I was never good with music back 

at school," she admitted.  Then, curiosity piqued, she asked, "Hmm, 

a piano competition?  You must be pretty good then.  Can you play 

something?"

 

"What, now?"  He turned to her, startled.  Seeing another nod, he 

let out a small chuckle that sounded more like a sigh, before 

turning his eyes off to the sides and clucking his tongue softly.  

"Um, no," he declined, "I don't think that's such a good idea.  I 

mean, I've never really played for any person in particular before."  

A bit disappointed, she nevertheless nodded again in understanding.  

"Besides," he reminded her, "don't you have a wedding in like ten 

minutes?"

 

Setsuna's eyes widened at that.  She hiked up her skirt and rushed 

for the door.  

 

"Wait!"  Ranma stopped her.  She looked back questioningly.  

"You left your, uh, head," he explained, one hand waving the wig 

and headdress he'd picked up from the couch.  "Here."

 

"Oh."  She took the thing back, struggling briefly as she tried to 

bundle her hair together with one hand and set the headpiece back 

on her head with the other.  "This looks okay?"  

 

"Sure," Ranma shrugged.  

 

"Thanks."  She headed out once more.

 

"Wait!" He called out after her again.  "Um, do you have any 

money - for the taxi?"  Seeing her blank stare, Ranma fished for 

his wallet in his pocket and drew out two thousand-yen notes.  

"Here," he said.

 

Setsuna regarded him with an expression that he couldn't quite 

make out.  "I'll pay you back." She took the bills from his hand 

and stuffed them into the folds of the robe down her front.  

 

Pausing slightly as she reached outside, Setsuna turned back to 

face him one last time.  "Saotome-san?" 

 

"Good luck at the contest," she said.  Then she left.

 

x x x

 

After he'd made sure the woman was finally gone, Ranma closed 

the front door and slowly sagged against it.  How the hell he'd 

gotten out of that one, he had no idea.  He did feel a small pang of 

guilt, though, lying the way he did at the end just to get her to 

leave.  Well, he thought to himself, it doesn't matter anyway; it's 

not like I'm going to see her again anytime soon.

 

He straightened himself up, finding some amusement at what had 

just happened.  It had almost made him feel like he was back at the 

Tendo's again.  A stray thought came to him suddenly.  Hmm, I 

wonder what Akane's doing right now?  He stopped himself, 

however, before it could go any further.  Best not think about 

things like that, he decided, then locked the door behind him.  

 

Sighing, he walked back to the piano bench and sat down.  He still 

had a contest to win.

 

 

 

 

TIMED VACATION

 

 

Chapter Two

 

Opening Theme: Close to You (Instrumental)

Composed by: CAGNET

 

 

1

October 29, 1997

3:45 PM

 

The near-tropical weather three Sundays ago proved to be an 

aberration.  

 

Since that day, the temperature outside had dropped steadily.  On 

the streets, thin jackets were gradually replaced by heavy coats and 

scarves as people went about their daily business, and when it 

rained one night last week there were thin strips of ice on the road 

the next morning.  Tokyo had yet to see snow this year, but in the 

rustling of the bald branches all over town you could hear the 

promise that it wouldn't be long in coming.

 

On this afternoon, when a particularly harsh wind was busy 

scraping small garbage down the sidewalks and tearing posters 

from lampposts and telephone poles, and not a few children 

wearing wool hats and puffy-looking jackets clattered their teeth 

from behind a pair of mittens, Saotome Ranma, in a black overcoat 

with a white scarf around his neck, was making his way back home 

in a hurry.  A year of practice in socialization had at least taught 

him to dress accordingly for the weather if he didn't want to stand 

out like a sore thumb in a crowd, like the first time he showed up 

to teach lessons part-time at the piano store nearby in his sleeveless 

red silk shirt and black kung-fu pants.  However, that didn't mean 

that he had to like what he was wearing.  It made him feel almost 

unbearably hot.

 

He had nearly made it past the small outdoor basketball court 

behind his apartment building before the sight of a pair of shapely 

legs stopped him in his tracks, if only for the fact that they were 

noticeably not covered by any piece of clothing under a wind 

that'd make most people wish they had been wearing their blankets 

on the way to work.  He slowly traced his gaze from the ground up.

 

Hmm, a pair of white sneakers, check.  Looks pretty new.  Short 

socks, check.  Bare legs with a bit of varicose veins, check... wait, 

how far up does the flesh go?  Never mind, got a flower-print mini-

skirt there, check.  A piece of ass that would've won awards 

compared to even his better-figured fianc�es back in Nerima, 

check...

 

I can't believe I just thought that, Ranma shook his head and 

mentally berated himself before going back to his brief inspection.

 

Red, silk blouse underneath a plain white spring jacket, check.  

Green hair that went down the back past the shoulders, check.  

Slender neck, connected to a slightly angular chin, check.  Round, 

full lips blooming blood-red from the lipstick, check.  Nose that 

conveyed an impression of nobility, check.  Red irises staring 

intently back at him, check.  

 

"Long time no see," Setsuna said, full lips curving slightly upward 

at the ends into a small smile.

 

x x x

 

"M-Meiou-san?"  Ranma asked, startled.  She nodded eagerly.  He 

looked at her again.  It was hard to picture that the smiling woman 

in front of him was the distraught bride-to-be who nearly smashed 

his piano three weeks ago on her wild manhunt.  

 

"How did the wedding go?"  He asked.  Then, flashing her a grin, 

he said, "Should I call you 'Yamaguchi-san' now?"

 

"Yamaguchi," she agreed, before adding softly to the side, "if I 

were married, that is."

 

Not catching the last part, Ranma carried on with the small talk.  

"Oh... congratulations then.  So, what brings you here to the 

neighborhood?"  

 

"Oh, that..." her serene composure slipped slightly as she tried to 

come up with an answer.  "I was just wandering around town."  

Then, smiling again, she said, "I was surprised to bump into you 

just now."

 

The pigtailed young man nodded.  "Right."  Then, taking off the 

scarf and tugging at the collar of his shirt under the coat 

uncomfortably, he said, "Um, sorry, I've got to go now.  Nice to 

meet you though."  

 

"Ah."  Setsuna said, nodding.  "Goodbye."  She waved a hand at 

him.  

 

"Bye," he mimicked her and waved, before turning back and went 

on around the corner to the front of the building.  She trailed 

behind him for a few more steps.  "Goodbye," she said, still 

waving.

 

"Er, right.  Bye."  He turned around once more and headed inside.  

 

x x x

 

Ranma had barely time to kick off his shoes and hang up his coat 

before the doorbell rang.  Frowning, he closed the closet and 

reached for the door.  "Who the - Meiou-san?"  Again?  Didn't she 

say goodbye to him outside already?  "Uh, what can I do for you?"

 

Still smiling, Setsuna took out two thousand-yen notes from her 

purse.  "I forgot to pay you back."

 

"You don't have to -" Ranma's protest was cut off as she reached 

over and placed the bills squarely inside the breast pocket of his 

shirt.  "-um, thanks, I guess," he said tiredly, sensing that arguing 

the matter would probably end up being another waste of time.  

Hopefully she would go now that she'd finished with her business.  

She smiled brightly.

 

And she was still standing outside.

 

Seeing that she still didn't intend to leave yet, he started. "Uh," he 

said, a bit uncomfortably, "I'm sorry, I'm in the middle of 

changing, so..." he trailed off, hoping that the unspoken request 

was plain enough.

 

 "Oh... okay."  He sighed in relief at that, and made a move to 

close the door.

 

x x x

 

"What - what in the world are you doing?"  He asked, grunting to 

keep the door closed.  The woman was surprisingly strong.  

 

"Asking you a favor," she replied between gasps, trying to gain 

more leverage and squeeze through the opening her leg had made 

in the doorway.

 

Momentarily speechless, Ranma shot back as he recovered.  "This 

is how you always ask for favors?"

 

"You don't understand!"  By now, any hint of the Setsuna who 

was calmly smiling at everything outside his apartment had utterly 

vanished; in her stead was the maniacal woman he remembered all 

too well from their first encounter.

 

"I don't want to under-" he started to yell back, but was surprised 

by a horn blaring from just outside the window.  Setsuna put his 

temporary distraction to good use and wrestled past him.  "The 

movers," she said quickly, heading straight to the window.  

Somewhere along the line, Ranma had discovered that this whole 

thing was starting to feel very familiar.

 

She lifted the screen up and looked down.  Three middle-aged men 

stood by the side of the road behind a small truck.  Next to them on 

the sidewalk was a large sofa they'd unloaded already.  "Hey, 

lady!"  One of them looked up at her and yelled.  "Where are we 

going to put all this?"

 

"Give me a minute," she yelled out at them, "I'm taking care of it 

right now!"  She ducked back inside.

 

x x x

 

"...And then?"  Ranma had settled himself down on the couch, 

regarding the woman pacing about animatedly in the living room.  

This could take a while, he thought.  He absently noted that instead 

of circles, she was walking in squares this time.

 

"What else?  I went back, and he was a no-show," Setsuna 

grounded out, eyes blazing, nostrils flaring, hands on her hips, her 

posture strikingly close to that of a disgruntled housewife.  "I told 

my folks that Takuya's little sister -"

 

"He has a sister?"

 

"No, but they didn't know that."  She waved a hand dismissively 

and continued.  "Anyway, his sister - who's supposed to be kind of 

retarded, by the way, drove her car into a ditch on her way here, 

and since she lived out west in the country where the buses would 

take forever to get to Tokyo, she figured she could walk into the 

middle of a railroad crossing and hail down a train instead."

 

Ranma twitched an eyebrow.  "And then?"  

 

"...so now she's in a coma in the hospital with two amputated legs, 

and he canceled the wedding at the last moment to see her when he 

found out about it."

 

"...And your people bought all that crap?"

 

"It took a little convincing, but they more or less swallowed the 

thing.  Plus," she added, "I told them I was going to the hospital to 

see him and his sister and left before anybody could think of 

tagging along."  

 

"What about his folks?  Didn't anybody show up from Takuya's 

side?"

 

"We didn't invite them, and they wouldn't come anyway.  He split 

up with his parents ages ago, and he's got no other relatives.  But 

that's not the point," Setsuna said, bringing the topic back on track.  

"The point is, I forgot that I've given him my whole bank account 

earlier to help foot the expense since he told me he was going to 

handle all the planning, and by the time I got back home I found 

out that my account's been cleaned out."

 

"And then?"

 

"And then I got kicked out of my apartment," she said 

anticlimactically.  "Since I was going to move in with him, I 

thought I'd terminate my apartment lease early and so I gave the 

landlord the notice last month, and when I told her after the 

wedding that I was going to stay, she told me that she's already 

signed the lease with the new tenants and that I have to leave by 

today."

 

"...And then?"

 

"And I thought I could live with a friend from work for a while, 

but she's married already and she told me their place was really 

small, and the walls were really thin..."

 

"...And then?"

 

"And then I remembered you.  So I thought, hey, this is perfect; 

you've got an empty room, and I've got a bunch of furniture.  So I 

told the movers to come here."

 

Ranma rubbed his temples.  

 

Sensing that he was on the edge of caving in, Setsuna decided to 

go for the kill.  "On top of that," she said pitifully, a sniffle all of a 

sudden working its way into her voice, "I just realized that today is 

my birthday, and I don't even have enough money to buy a cake."    

 

"...Are you pulling my leg?"  He asked.  

 

"No, honest," she said, "It's my birthday today."

 

She took a peek at him.  He had his head buried in his hands.

 

"Hey, lady!" The men from down below suddenly yelled out again.  

They'd been waiting for nearly twenty minutes now, and their 

patience was wearing thin.  "Your furniture!"

 

Setsuna poked her head out of the window, a contented smile on 

her face.  She held a thumb up triumphantly.

 

The workers cheered.

 

 

2

October 29, 1997

9:29 PM

 

Ranma eyed the damage.  

 

An extra couch - a nylon-cushioned two-seater in some wacky 

deco style - sat next to his own in the living room.

 

Twelve - he counted - ladies' coats of varying lengths, colors, and 

fashions, in the closet.  He had two.  His old roommate's favorite 

raincoat was moved far to the other end of the hanger.  

 

Twelve pairs of shoes to match the jackets.  Out of the dozen, 

eleven were pumps.  The remaining one was the pair of white 

sneakers she wore.  More than half of them were left out by the 

foyer in neat display rows because his one-row shoe rack couldn't 

fit.

 

On top of that, ten wooden crates of... something, stacked five-

high by the wall between the bathroom and Takuya's old bedroom.

 

Bound, old issues of magazines, ranging from fashion to wedding 

to modeling to maternity to contemporary physics, lying 

everywhere on the floor.  

 

He didn't even want to think of what her room looked like.  How 

the movers got that huge grand-oak dresser in and still found space 

to dump the mattress and table and three standing lamps in the 

same hundred-square-feet area, he had no idea.

 

Finally, his eyes fell upon the other occupant of the room.

 

Setsuna, sprawled out on her sofa, head falling backward and arms 

draping the cushions, an opened issue of Modern Physics covering 

her face, was looking right at home.  She wriggled her toes.

 

"...um, Meiou-san?" he asked weakly.  

 

Setsuna slowly brought her head forward, letting the magazine fall 

to the floor.  "Hmm?  Oh, right, I know.  This only lasts until I get 

a good enough job that I can live by myself, or somehow find a 

cheap place I can live in."  She yawned, then belatedly brought up 

a hand to cover it.  "Sorry.  It's been a long day."

 

Ranma stared.  "The movers did all the work, you know?"

 

She shrugged.  "I got tired just watching _them_ move.  Besides, 

I'm relaxing for them.  I'm sure they'd appreciate it."

 

She picked herself off the couch and stretched, fussing her hair 

with one hand.  Then, suddenly remembering something, she 

looked at him curiously.  "Say, Saotome-san," she asked, "you said 

the other day that you couldn't go through with the wedding 

because you've got something back home..." she trailed off, a 

finger tapping her chin in thought.  "So, what is it?  A girlfriend?"

 

"A fianc�e," he stopped himself too late and said.

 

Setsuna nodded appreciatively.  "I see..." she smiled a little 

teasing smile.  "I was wondering why a good looking young man 

like you weren't attached in any way."

 

Ranma shrank back instinctively, honed by years of experience 

from dealing with hoards of females waiting to drag him off to the 

altar the moment he let down his guard.  "Hey!  Don't get any 

ideas."

 

"As if."  She waved a hand, a gesture that he was becoming 

accustomed to by now.  "I don't go for younger men."

 

Feeling somehow slighted, Ranma's old ego resurfaced and 

prompted him for a retort.  "Perfect," he said, "I don't go for older 

women either.  On the other hand," he added, smirking, "it's a 

different story if the girl is classy, beautiful, and mature."

 

Her smile frozen on her face, Setsuna's eyes flashed dangerously 

for a moment.  Then, realizing that she's been led off-track, she 

recovered instantly and pressed on.  "Anyway, about that 

fianc�e... is she cute?"

 

Ranma stiffened.  He wasn't going to slip up again.  "I don't want 

to talk about it," he said guardedly.

 

"Come on," she pressed again, trying to test how far she could 

push the button, "you can tell me... what's it like?  Love at first 

sight?"  

 

"I said, 'I don't want to talk about it,'" he repeated, louder this 

time.

 

"Pfeh," she said, "It's not like it's a big deal.  After all, we're 

going to be living together, so we might as well get to know each 

other a little.  Unless..." she trailed off, feigning shock.  "Unless 

you're cheating on her?"  

 

Ranma gaped at the woman.  Letting her stay was one thing, this 

was another.  "Are you always this pushy?"  He asked heatedly, 

the stress of the whole day getting the better of him.  "It's no 

wonder Takuya left you."  Not seeing the stunned expression on 

her face, he went on.  "I mean, I already had to put up with you 

barging in here and all, not to mention all the stuff you brought 

with you, but this -" he looked at her, finally aware that the other 

end of the living room had gone completely quiet.

 

Outside, a drizzle started.

 

"I see."  Setsuna said finally, all warmth and earlier mirth devoid 

on her face.  She walked into her new room, and came back out a 

few seconds later with a purse in hand.

 

Knowing that he had just put his foot in his mouth yet again, 

Ranma asked with a mixture of dread and apology in his voice, 

"Uh, what are you doing?"

 

Sliding the closet door open, Setsuna picked out the white jacket 

she wore earlier.  "I'm moving out," she said matter-of-factly 

without looking at him.  She stepped into her sneakers, jamming 

her heels into the shoes when her feet wouldn't go in instantly.  

"Thank you for putting up with me," she said, bowing formally.  "I 

apologize for the intrusion.  I'll pick up the rest of my stuff 

tomorrow."

 

Ranma ran a hand through his hair in frustration.  "But... you just 

moved in today!"  He protested, only to be left with a perfect view 

of the empty stairs outside through the open door.

 

x x x

 

Damned crazy chick, he thought.  Who did she think she was, 

taking off like that after he told her to mind her own business?  For 

that matter, who did she think she was, coming here in the first 

place and dumping all her stuff in his apartment?  

 

Not my fault, he said to himself.  Not my fault that she got dumped; 

not my fault that she should be eating her birthday cake with 

Takuya somewhere off in god-knows-where on their honeymoon 

right now.  This was not my fault.

 

The rain seemed to agree.  It began to pour.

 

He peered through the window.  She had turned the corner and was 

walking down towards the basketball court with her head down.  

Her suit was wet, and her dark green hair clung to her jacket like a 

damp mop.

 

I'm not going out there, he thought.

 

x x x

 

"Meiou-san!"  Ranma called out, carefully keeping his head inside 

the apartment as he opened the window.

 

Setsuna stopped, not looking up.  "What?"

 

"You're going to catch a cold," he said.  "Come back."  

 

She took another step forward.

 

"Wait!"  He yelled again.

 

She paused.  "Now what?"

 

"It's raining," he pointed out.

 

Setsuna shut her eyes in irritation.  An empty soda can left out as 

trash on the sidewalk crumpled under her foot.  She gave it a good 

kick, and kept on walking.  

 

The can of Pepsi clattered noisily on the pavement.  Nearby, 

startled by the commotion, a few doves took to the air from the 

wire they were perching upon, squawking their objection all the 

way.

 

x x x

 

(Who the hell just did that?)

(Geez, as if the rain wasn't enough... Dammit, I'm trying to sleep!)

(Hey, it's that woman from a few weeks ago.)

(You mean...)

(...)

(...)

(...)

(Well, what are we going to do about it?)

 

 

3

October 29, 1997

9:38 PM

 

Outside, by the vacant basketball court, Setsuna wiped a hand 

angrily across her face to clear out the rain.  This was turning out 

to be one of the worst birthdays she could ever remember.

 

Not even a month earlier, she had indulged herself in some sweet 

thoughts about candlelight dinners, whispers by the fireside, and 

not a few snuggles in the dark.  It was not some thoughts that 

should have rightfully belonged to her, but back then she had 

already resigned to live her life out as a normal person and was 

caught in the moment, awash in giddiness with the prospect of 

getting married.  Like a normal person.

 

Letting a dry laugh escape from her throat, Setsuna picked up her 

feet and resumed walking.  

 

Well, the birthday's shot, she thought as she started down the 

sidewalk once more, picking out all the things that had gone wrong 

in the past month with her fingers.  The wedding's gone, too.  So 

was the bank account.  And my stuff's still back there as well.

 

At least I have a birthday song playing.

 

Her feet carried her a few paces further before they came to a halt.

 

_Wait, a birthday song?_

 

x x x

 

Inside the apartment, Ranma let his fingers linger on the keys for 

the last note before drawing them away.

 

He started another song.

 

x x x

 

The dim light from the lampposts cast a long shadow on the 

sidewalk, set upon the paler shades of crisscrossing wires that had 

been there earlier in the night.

 

Leaning against the fence by the empty court, Setsuna listened to 

the music floating past the windows down the streets below.  It 

wasn't any tune that she recognized, but that didn't matter in the 

slightest.  As unfamiliar as she was with music, Setsuna could 

immediately see the skill of the player behind the song; the way the 

notes went crisp and poignant even as the melody climbed into a 

maddeningly complex crescendo, then streamed out in a gentle 

flow as the tension dispersed spoke of the level of mastery needed 

to execute the piece.

 

More, the music sang to her.  It was not quite like the jazzy pieces 

she heard Haruka play, seemingly a lifetime ago, and not quite like 

the classical songs with regular beats and cadence that her boss 

sometimes listened to at work; it was a strange and pleasant blend 

of both - formal, like sunset, and free-flowing, like the last cloud 

that chased the sun over the horizon and into the night.  Memories 

of Sailor Pluto flashed by her eyes, and she was suddenly there - at 

the palace, in the ballroom, another grand gala commencing as 

dusk settled in the sky outside the mosaic glass panes.  She was 

standing, as usual, alone in the crowd, keeping a sharp eye on the 

various nobilities and dignitaries in the court, watching the other 

senshi waltz by her, waiting for the slightest gesture from the 

Queen to appear at her side and do her bidding.  And the song, 

pushing past the throng, found her this time, made a formal bow 

and extended a hand.  _May I have this dance?_  It asked.

 

She closed her eyes.

 

_I've traded my chance at marriage and my bank account for two 

birthday songs,_ a thought came to her impulsively.  Then, 

realizing the ridiculousness of the thought, and a little surprised at 

how un-bitter she was at it even if it were true, she smiled.  

 

The trickling of the last few notes ebbed away as the song faded to 

a stop.  Apology accepted, she thought fondly, but perhaps this was 

for the best.  Goodbye, Saotome-san.

 

Refreshed, and not a bit disappointed, Setsuna let her eyes open 

again and gingerly pushed herself away from the fence.  A sudden, 

unwarranted sense of confidence surged through her, and she 

started down the road once more, ready to take on whatever 

challenges that life would throw at her again.

 

She was not ready, however, for a wing in her face.

 

 

4

October 29, 1997

9:58 PM

 

The door to the apartment was yanked open, then slammed shut in 

an instant.

 

"You're back," Ranma grunted from the bench.  

 

Setsuna was too busy trying to recover her breath to make any 

coherent replies, however.  With feathers in her wet hair, a few 

scratches and tears on her white jacket, and some bird droppings 

mixed in with the rainwater on her face, she took a few gasps of air 

before she started screaming at him.  "There were some crazy 

homicidal birds out there trying to _kill_ me!"  She pointed at the 

door in shocked outrage and said, heaving and trembling.

 

Then, after she had feverishly patted away the last traces of her 

recent avian assault, Setsuna calmed down considerably.  Trying to 

muster whatever anger she harbored from earlier at the young man 

at the piano, she drew a curious blank, which she noted was an 

unacceptable answer.  She finally settled with crossing her arms in 

front of her chest and a neutral expression on her face.  "Anyway," 

she said, concentrating to maintain the frown she wore on her face, 

"I thought you said you don't like to play for anybody in 

particular."

 

Ranma paused in thought.  "...I make exceptions for birthdays."  

He said at last.  Then, fully taking note of her current state, he 

added, barely stifling a laugh, "Bathroom's down that way."

 

x x x

 

Outside, an hour later, the downpour showed no sign of slowing 

down anytime soon.

 

A few birds were dancing on the sidewalk.

 

(Wahahahaha, did you see the look on her face when I caught her 

 with that uppercut?  Sho-ryu-ken, baby, sho-ryu-ken!)

(C'mon, let's go!  My feathers are all drenched.)

(Hmm.  Well, that explains where that other piece of poppy seed 

 mochi went.  On the other hand, though, I did manage to get past 

 that constipation problem I've been having lately.  They just don't 

 make bread crumbs like they used to.)

(Screw the crumbs!  Did you see, eh, did you see?  I bitch-slapped 

 her good!  Hahahaha!  Tatsumaki-sempuu-kya-)

(All right, we get the idea!  Let's go!)

 

The lights from the third floor window grew faint, then slowly 

went out.  Beyond the heavy rain, and the few celebratory cries and 

sounds of flapping wings intermittently throughout the night, it 

was a relatively quiet evening in the neighborhood.

 

 

 

(END CHAPTER)

 

Special thanks to: Figment again, and Thermopyle as well for pre-

read and excellent suggestions on how to approach the piano scene 

near the end.

 

- ukie



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