[FFML] [Ranma] Life is Complicated, Part II

[Ambulatory Kettle]

Okay, so this was supposed to go up just after my last post, but evil email services thwarted me.  I think I have found a service that will not bounce my posts or destroy my formatting.  So, as promised (or threatened) here is the second part of my series.
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Disclaimer: Ranma 1/2 is the property of Takahashi-san and various other 
copyright holders who are not me.  All obnoxious original characters in 
this story are actually my own property, dubious honor though it may be.

"Life is Complicated"
A Ranma 1/2 comedy fanfic of dramatic proportions
written by Ambulatory Kettle

Part II: Tea and Conversation

	Pop stepped back and raised his voice so that it echoed through 
the dojo.  "Bow to each other!"
	Kouryuu bowed; Ranma did likewise, and slipped into a ready 
stance.  His opponent just stood.
	Movement near the dojo entrance caught a corner of Ranma's 
attention.  He saw Akane entering the dojo along with the girl who had 
challenged him earlier.  If seeing them come in together wasn't 
disconcerting enough, when they noticed his gaze both girls looked away 
and turned their noses up in distaste like mirror images of each other.
	He didn't even want to think about what that meant.  He couldn't 
afford to let himself get distracted.  Still, he felt slightly shaken as 
he returned his attention to his new opponent.
	Ranma waited for the signal; either Pop was letting the tension 
build, or was waiting for this Kouryuu guy to shift into some sort of 
readiness.  Kouryuu didn't budge.
	"Hajime!"
	Before Ranma could make his move, the man rushed at him -- no, 
past him.  Ranma kicked out to catch Kouryuu as he blurred by on Ranma's 
left, but his opponent ducked under his leg.
	Then Ranma felt something smash into the OTHER side of his head.  
He turned just in time to see a retreating foot out of the corner of his 
eye.  He spun around, realizing that after ducking under Ranma's leg and 
past him, Kouryuu had somehow hooked a back-kick around to Ranma's 
unguarded right side.
	As Ranma spun around, his opponent had twisted around to face him 
as well -- but Kouryuu's momentum was carrying him off-balance, toppling 
over backwards.  Suddenly Kouryuu's legs kicked out and scissored at 
Ranma's feet from either side.  Already unbalanced from a combination of 
surprise and the recent kick to his head, it took all Ranma had to keep 
himself upright.
	<A feint!> Ranma realized.  Kouryuu wasn't falling -- he was 
attacking!.  
  	Kouryuu put out an arm and turned his backward fall into a one-
handed back-hand spring.  Ranma barely managed to block a rising 
succession of unexpected kicks that Kouryuu shot out almost casually as 
he flipped away and landed just out of reach, his cloak swirling.
	<Damn, this guy's pretty good!>
	Ranma charged him -- and discovered he was suddenly flipping 
forward, head-over-heals.  Kouryuu had used his own momentum against 
him.  Ranma tucked himself into a roll, came up out of it -- and smashed 
his face straight into an elbow.
	"Chikusho!" he cursed.
	Suddenly, punches were coming at him out of nowhere.
	"Yame!" Pop called out, and Kouryuu stepped away.
	"Like Hell!" Ranma bellowed, bouncing up, then off the wall and 
leaping at his opponent.  "Tenshin Amaguriken!"
	Kouryuu managed to block or evade a surprising number of the high-
speed strikes, but several slipped through his defenses.
	The combatants separated for a moment.
	"The chest-nut fist.  Very impressive," Kouryuu commented.
	Pop looked indignant.  "Um... did I not just say 'yame'?"
	"This ends when I say it ends," Ranma growled.
	Kouryuu smiled.  "Very well."  He charged in.
	Ranma was ready for him, but Kouryuu might as well have been 
taking a stroll in the park for all Ranma could interpret about his 
movements.  Three hard punches struck Ranma's torso, winding him before 
he was able to get out of the way.  <Why can't I read any of his moves!>
	Suddenly, Ranma knew the answer.
	<Time for a little Umisen-ken.>  He told himself he'd never use 
that forbidden art again, but desperate times called for desperate 
measures.
	<In under the floorboards.>  As Kouryuu came at him again, Ranma 
ducked down and twisted around onto his back, slipping in under his 
opponents guard and between his feet, which he knocked apart with his 
own feet, disrupting Kouryuu's stance.
	A fist struck Ranma's solar plexus from above -- again seeming to 
come out of nowhere -- slamming him into the floor, but it didn't 
matter.  He grabbed the trailing edge of Kouryuu's cloak and lashed out 
with both feet, catching his opponent in the stomach and launching him 
into an unplanned back-flip.  A loud tearing sound rent the air.
	Kouryuu landed on his feet a several meters away.  Ranma hopped 
up, ready for a retaliation.  Without his cloak, Ranma could now see 
that Kouryuu was wearing a dark green Chinese shirt, of a different 
style than those Ranma usually wore, with more prominent clasp-strings, 
and very plain, unpleated hakama, faded black or charcoal in hue.
	(Hakama: often defined as a "gentleman's divided skirt," the legs 
of hakama steadily widen as they go down, leaving them very loose around 
the ankle -- think "samurai pants.")
	"Damn," Kouryuu said, almost casually.  "I really liked that 
cloak, too."
	Ranma dropped the ruined cloak on the dojo floor.  "Too bad."
	"Ah, well," Kouryuu shrugged.  "It's against my principles to show 
too much attachment to material things.  Shall we call it quits for 
today?"
	Ranma smirked.  Was he conceding?  "Alright then.  Yame."
	Kouryuu gave a nod, seeming to acknowledge both the end of the 
match and his opponent's skill.  "I didn't lose though."
	Ranma didn't like the sound of that.  "You tryin' to say you won?"
	"No," Kouryuu assured him.  "I'm just saying I didn't lose."
	Ranma felt his smirk returning, and realized Kouryuu seemed to be 
sharing in it, despite his placid expression.
	"We'll call it a draw then," Ranma offered.  "But it was just a 
practice match, so it didn't really COUNT or nothin'."
	Now Kouryuu broke into a grin.  "My thoughts exactly."
	"I'm glad we could come to this agreement," Nabiki said with a 
hint of irony as she approached them.  "Kouryuu-san, was it?  You say 
you won't be signing up for classes because you... lack the means to 
pay?"
	Ranma wondered why she was even bothering to ask him about it -- 
or bothering to even talk to him at all, since clearly he wasn't a 
source of money.
	"That's correct," Kouryuu confirmed.
	In spite of himself, Ranma couldn't help thinking it was a shame 
that the guy wouldn't be coming back.  He'd like to see a bit more of 
Kouryuu's moves.  He probably hadn't had a good one-on-one sparring 
match like that since the last time he'd sparred with Ryouga when Ryouga 
wasn't actually trying to kill him.
	"I've... taken a vow of poverty," Kouryuu continued.  "I'm really 
just passing through; I probably won't be here this time next week, or 
even this time tomorrow."
	Just passing through, huh?  Maybe Kouryuu was more like Ryouga 
than Ranma had thought.  For the guy's own sake, Ranma hoped he wasn't.
	"Where are you headed?" Nabiki probed.
	Kouryuu shrugged.  "Nowhere in particular.  Just traveling."
	"Are you planning on heading back home any time soon?"
	"Ah... no.  Not... ever, actually."
	To her credit, Nabiki looked slightly chagrined at asking a 
question that may have been a little too personal.  However, being 
Nabiki, it didn't dissuade or derail her.
	"Why not stay here?"
	Ranma blinked.  After all this time complaining about so-called 
free-loaders, was Nabiki inviting another one to stay with them?  Ranma 
looked between Nabiki and the surprised man before her, who seemed as 
much at a loss for words as Ranma himself was, and then back to Nabiki.  
He couldn't read anything on her face except pure business, but Ranma 
couldn't help wondering... he had attracted some stares, but maybe the 
sight of Kouryuu actually made girls go completely bonkers?  Ranma 
didn't particularly like the thought that such power could be possessed 
by anyone -- other than himself, of course.
	"You could stay here and help teach classes.  We can provide you 
room and board, and three meals a day."  She smiled.  "And of course, to 
honor your vow of poverty, no extra pay need be included."
	Or then again, maybe it was just business.  But one thing about 
Nabiki's offer irked Ranma.
	"Hey, what makes you think I need help teaching classes?"
	Nabiki turned to him, a put-upon look on her face, as if she were 
having to explain the obvious to a particularly slow child.  "In case 
you hadn't noticed, we're a little short on instructors.  I'd be a lot 
happier if there were six of you, but we can make do with three -- right 
now we've got barely two at best."
	Ranma was pretty sure he knew who merited the "barely" -- no pun 
intended.  Pop was just now officiously lecturing the prospective 
students -- probably without having any idea what he was talking about.  
Maybe his inscrutable-sensei act would work on some of them and they'd 
be encouraged to sign up.
	Idly, Ranma wondered how Nabiki had gotten Pop to show up in the 
first place, considering the usual allergic reaction he displayed when 
faced with most forms of honest work.  Ranma suspected that Mom had had 
something to do with it.
	"What about Uncle?" Ranma asked Nabiki.
	Nabiki shook her head.  "I don't think Daddy's up to the task.  
Not just yet, anyway."
	Before Ranma could question this, Kouryuu cleared his throat, 
interrupting.
	"Ahem....  Tendou... Nabiki-san, isn't it?  I humbly accept your 
kind offer.  For the time being, at least."
	"Great!" Nabiki beamed.  She flipped through some pages on her 
clipboard, stopped on one, and turned the clipboard towards Kouryuu, 
holding several sheets back to expose a horizontal line at the very 
bottom of one page.  "Just sign here," she said, handing him a pen, "and 
the terms of your employ will be all set."
	Kouryuu took the offered pen, nodding graciously, and was about to 
set it to paper, when a slight frown creased his forehead.  He lifted 
the top pages on the clipboard out of the way.
	"Um... this is a contract stating that the signer will obey your 
every whim without question."
	"Oh?  Really?" Nabiki asked innocently.  She took the clipboard 
back and looked at it as though surprised, putting a finger to one 
cheek.  "How did that get in there, I wonder?"

	"Okay, those of you with experience, pair off for some one-on-one 
practice for now!  The rest of you with me!"
	Ukyou pouted ever so slightly at these words, which Ranchan had so 
casually shouted out across the dojo.  Why did he have to cut himself 
out of the running for training partners?  After all, Ranchan wasn't 
good about taking girl opponents seriously; she could have used that 
fact to make some... fortuitous tackle-moves.  Not exactly her style -- 
more of a Shampoo-tactic -- but it seemed worth a shot.  Ukyou just 
sighed and leaned back against the wall to wait for Ranchan to finish.
	A series of nervous male students wandered over towards her, each 
inevitably asking her if she wanted to spar with them.  Ukyou politely 
declined their offers, feeling like she was at a high school dance, sans 
bad music.
	"I like your spatula," someone said.
	She turned to see the foreigner with the long blonde hair who she 
had seen testing earlier -- Ukyou couldn't detect any hint of a foreign 
accent in his Japanese, and she was nearly surprised dumb by the 
incongruity of this with his distinctly Western features.
	"Wha...?" she managed to get out.
	"You're carrying a giant spatula on your back," the youth said, 
pointing with his bokken.  "I like that.  Do you cook?"
	"Yes," Ukyou replied, regaining her voice, though her mind was 
still racing slightly to catch up.  She had never spoken to a Westerner 
before.
	He smiled.  "You do?  I like that even better.  Want to spar?"
	She tried to give him an icy stare, but wasn't sure it worked, 
since she was still somewhat befuddled by his apparent fluency in  
Japanese -- his accent sounded vaguely West Honshuu, like Hiroshima.
	"You ARE a martial artist, aren't you?" he asked when she didn't 
respond immediately.  "I mean, you look like one to me."
	What was that supposed to mean?
	"How... how can you tell?" she asked.
	"Tell what?  That you're a martial artist?  Easy.  For one thing, 
you're carrying a giant spatula," he pointed again at the battle spatula 
strapped to her back, "and for another thing, you're standing in a dojo.  
Plus, you hold yourself like a martial artist.  You've got that certain 
grace to you."
	The foreigner's familiar attitude was starting to wear on Ukyou's 
nerves.  She understood that a lot of foreigners tended to be forward, 
but that didn't mean she had to put up with it.
	"Fine," she said shortly.  "I'll fight you."  She unslung her 
battle spatula.  "Ready?  Good!"  She took a big swing at him, but not 
at full speed, hoping to scare him off more than anything.
	"Hey, careful!  You could hurt someone with that thing," he 
remarked as he jumped over the swing.
	"That's the idea!"  Ukyou swung again.
	"So... what happens if I do this?"  With a flick of his bokken, 
the foreigner sent Ukyou's battle spatula spinning away.  Several 
sparring students had to leap out of the way as the weapon struck the 
dojo floor with a loud THOCK, and stood quivering.
	"Hey!" Ranchan shouted from where he and his father were 
instructing the rank-and-file of novices in some martial arts basics.
	"No weapons in the dojo, young lady!" his father reprimanded her.  
"Armed fighting has to be taken outside."
	Ranchan went to pull the spatula out of the floor.  "Ucchan, 
what're you doing, tryin' t'kill somebody?"
	"And we just had that floor refinished, you know!" Nabiki added.
	While she hardly cared what Nabiki or the old man said, Ukyou was 
stung by the reproach in Ranchan's voice.  Her temper flared.  "You 
jackass!" she snarled at her opponent, drawing two hand-spatulas and 
rushing at him.
	"I think those count as weapons," he commented as he blocked her 
strikes with his bokken.  Ukyou stepped back, suddenly realizing that 
this foreigner was no push-over.
	"You should probably stop," he recommended, almost casually.
	"Like hell!"  Ukyou redoubled her efforts.  Then a giant spatula 
smashed down on the foreigner's head, slamming him to the floor.
	"Owie," he mumbled, his voice muffled by the spatula.
	Ranma stood at the other end of Ukyou's weapon.  He shouldered it.  
"Ucchan, we can't have spatulas flying around the dojo.  Somebody's 
gonna get hurt."
	"Lawsuits for that come out of YOUR hide, Ukyou," Nabiki remarked 
as she came up and joined the discussion -- uninvited, Ukyou noted.  "Or 
else they come out of Ranma-kun's hide --"
	"Hey!  Why ME!" Ranchan protested indignantly.
	"-- and we both know you don't want that," Nabiki finished, 
ignoring Ranchan as she stared at Ukyou pointedly.
	Ukyou just gritted her teeth.  "But, this weirdo here...!"
	"Weirdo?"  Aforesaid weirdo was picking himself up off the 
floorboards.  "Who's a weirdo?  All I said was 'I like your spatula, 
wanna spar?'  It wasn't like it was a come on or some kind of indecent 
proposal.  It's not like I said, 'Hey, cutie!  Nice shoes, wanna --'"
	WHAP!
	"'... psopshickle...?'" he slurred through the hand-spatula 
plastered to his cheek.
	Ranchan held Ukyou's battle spatula before him.  "Anyway, Ucchan, 
try this."  With a flick of his wrist, he sliced Ukyou's bandoleer of 
spatulas from her shoulders and disarmed both her hands -- and 
accidentally gave Ukyou's opponent a giant-spatula-uppercut to the chin 
in the process.
	"Oop -- sorry 'bout that.  I'm not used to this thing."
	"No prob," the foreigner replied from the floor.
	"Now," Ranchan turned to Ukyou, shouldering the spatula again.  
"Come at me."
	"But..." Ukyou just stared at Ranchan, feeling helpless.
	Ranchan leveled the battle spatula at her.  "My point exactly."  
He tossed it aside with a clatter, and kicked the remains of her 
bandoleer away to join it.  "You can't be dependant on these things."  
Ukyou felt that maybe he was taking his new "sensei" role a little too 
seriously.
	"Your style is completely weapon-based.  You need to learn some 
unarmed defense, or you'll be helpless if you're ever caught without 
your weapons," he said.  He turned and lightly kicked the still prone 
foreigner in the head to get his attention.  "Hey, you, foreign kid."
	"He probably has a name, you know," Nabiki quipped dryly.
	The blonde young man was upright in an instant.  "I am Preston," 
he said, bowing.  He flashed Nabiki a grin; she frowned at him.  He did 
seem to be remarkably resilient -- and impudent, as Nabiki had pointed 
out before.
	"Preston-kun," Ranchan addressed him.  "You're Ucchan's senpai, so 
help her work on unarmed combat, especially defense."
	Ukyou eyed the young man who called himself Preston.  She did not 
like the thought that this foreign idiot was her superior in the martial 
arts.  But... Ranchan had tested him, so he should know.
	Ranchan considered her thoughtfully.  "Start with... standing."
	"Can do, sensei sir," Preston replied enthusiastically with a 
sharp salute.
	"Ranchan!" Ukyou objected.  "I KNOW how to STAND!"
	"Oh, really?" Ranchan challenged.  A swift movement of one of his 
legs, and Ukyou's feet were swept out from under her.  Ranchan caught 
her deftly in his arms before she even started to fall.  Her surprise 
was only momentary, and then she let herself relax comfortably into 
Ranchan's strong arms.  She felt her cheeks flush at the thought of his 
closeness; at the same time, she reveled in the sensation.
	"If you're going to start attending classes here," Nabiki rudely 
intruded on Ukyou's moment of bliss, "how are you planning to pay?  
I know you don't have the money right now."
	Ranchan frowned dangerously.  "Ain't nobody gonna charge Ucchan 
nothin'."  Ukyou felt her heart soar at his impassioned defense.
	Nabiki just pursed her lips.
	Ranchan did not waver.  "We'll call it repaying her for all the 
free meals she's given me in the past," he said in an even tone that 
nonetheless brooked little argument.
	Nabiki didn't look happy with that, but she seemed to shrug it 
off.  "Whatever," she said.  Ukyou suspected that Nabiki would work some 
way to get what she wanted out of the situation.
	"Any more arguments?" he asked generally.
	No one said anything.  Ukyou shook her head dumbly.  Hell, if he 
was going to hold her in his arms, she'd agree to anything.  She tried 
to snuggle closer to him, and felt herself fill with overwhelming 
happiness.
	Then Ranchan handed her to Preston, who, even though he received 
her gently enough, one arm supporting her back, one arm hooked under her 
knees, somehow managed to spill all the happiness on the dojo floor.
	Ranchan nodded emphatically and strode off, back to his teaching.
	"Put me down, you dolt!" Ukyou snapped.
	Obligingly, Preston dropped her.  She glared up at him.
	"Well, looks like you know how to land after a fall.  Ucchan, is 
it?"
	"That's UKYOU-SAN to you, jackass!"
	Preston grinned.  "We're gonna be great friends."

	Akane sat on the dojo floor next to Emi, both of them breathing 
heavily.  They had gone outside to spar and had just retreated back to 
the shade of the training hall.
	"You're good," Emi huffed.
	"Thanks.  But I'm nowhere as good as you."
	"Oh, that's not the case," Emi demurred, but Akane felt she was 
being overly modest.
	They paused awhile for breath.
	"I have to admit, that fight earlier was really impressive," Emi 
remarked.
	Akane looked at her questioningly.
	Emi nodded towards Ranma and Kouryuu.
	"Oh, that?"  Akane thought about it for a moment.  "I guess.  For 
a short sparring match."
	Emi just looked at her blankly for a moment, obviously trying to 
fathom her unenthusiastic response.  Akane had to remind herself that 
not everyone had witnessed a REAL fight between Ranma and a skilled 
opponent.
	"Um... that Kouryuu guy seems really good though, doesn't he?" 
Akane said, grasping for something to break the pause that was 
threatening to lapse into an awkward silence.
	"He certainly does," Emi agreed, eyeing the young man appraisingly 
from across the dojo where he stood conversing with Ranma.  "I couldn't 
see where any of his strikes were coming from.  But I guess that's why 
he calls his technique the hidden-fist."
	She paused, still watching Kouryuu.  Akane wondered for a moment 
if maybe she was admiring his striking appearance.  Akane could hardly 
blame her; the man's intense, classical features, like some Asiatic 
incarnation of a Greek statue, and his unusual eyes with their hawk-like 
gaze, were, needless to say, arresting.  But, from the serious 
analytical look in Emi's eyes, Akane couldn't be sure that the other 
girl had even NOTICED Kouryuu's good looks.
	"He seemed to have a good defense up as well," Emi commented.  
"I'm surprised Saotome...-sensei was able to get in under his guard like 
he did at the end there."
	"Well, Ranchan IS good," a new voice said.  "The best, really."
	"Ukyou!  When did you get here?" Akane greeted her in surprise.  
She stood, and Emi followed suit.
	"Oh, I've been here for awhile now," Ukyou replied with a smile.  
She must have just finished sparring as well, because she looked about 
the same as Akane felt: sweaty and tired, but fairly content.
	Ukyou turned to Emi.  "Sorry for jumping into your conversation 
like that without introducing myself.  I'm Kuonji Ukyou.  I'm Ranchan's, 
er, Saotome-sensei's --" she glanced at Akane "-- fiancée.  I'm pleased 
to meet you."  She bowed.
	Emi returned the bow, somewhat stiffly.  "Sakai Emi.  I'm pleased 
to meet you as well," she replied, but her voice was flat, indicating no 
pleasure at all.  Akane realized that Ukyou introducing herself as 
Ranma's fiancée had probably not endeared her to Emi.  Akane felt it was 
sufficient and well-deserved karmic justice against Ukyou for trying to 
lay claim to the title -- and by extension, to Ranma.
	Ukyou didn't seem to notice Emi's somewhat cold reception of her.  
She smiled distractedly at Emi, and then turned to Akane.
	A look of melancholy seeped into her smile.  "Akane... I realized 
I'd never apologized to you for... for ruining your wedding like I did."
	Akane smiled, though it felt a little forced.  "Hey, c'mon I 
thought we already had this conversation.  We agreed to be friends, 
right?"
	"I know," Ukyou said, still looking slightly downcast.  "But I 
just wanted to say... I'm sorry."
	She did seem genuinely sorry -- even if not really on account of 
Akane herself.  "Well, it's all behind us now, right?  And you weren't 
the only one who sabotaged things."  Akane felt her smile go sour.  "A 
whole lot of people had a hand in that."  Ranma himself hadn't been too 
helpful, she recalled.
	Ukyou nodded, looking grateful for Akane's understanding.  Then 
she gave a quick bob of her head and shoulders to Emi, taking her leave, 
and headed over to where Ranma and Kouryuu seemed to be animatedly 
discussing the best way to counter some move -- or bash someone's brains 
in, or something.  Several different plans for stopping Ukyou from 
actually reaching Ranma flitted briefly through Akane's mind, but she 
squelched them with extreme prejudice.  If Ranma really wanted to be 
with Ukyou, fine.  It was none of Akane's business.
	She blinked several times rapidly -- stupid eyes, watering for 
no reason.  She didn't care what Ranma did.  She might beat the living 
crap out of him if he showed any signs of choosing Ukyou, but that 
didn't mean she cared.
	Akane realized that Emi was giving her a somewhat bemused look.  
"You're married?"
	"What?  No!"
	Emi just looked more puzzled.  "But, she said... about your 
wedding...."
	"Oh."  Right.  That.  "It... got postponed."
	"Oh," Emi echoed.  "I'm sorry."
	Akane shook her head, not sure if she was accepting Emi's sympathy 
or denying that she needed any.  "The wedding, um... kind of got 
wrecked," Akane explained.  "And... I'm not sure we were really..." she 
couldn't complete her sentence.  She wanted to add the words "right for 
each other," but couldn't bring herself to.  She tried not to glance 
across the dojo at Ranma.
	"Hmm?" Emi prompted, her gaze open and attentive.
	"I'm not sure we were really... ready," Akane finished.
	"But you do have a fiancé?"
	Akane wondered when she had started blushing.  Apparently Emi 
noticed something as well.
	"I'm sorry, I'm asking such personal questions," she hastened to 
amend.  "I don't mean to be prying into your private life."
	"That's alright," Akane replied, her cheeks still warm.  But she 
decided not to offer any more information, for fear her face would start 
glowing like a light bulb and attract the attention of everyone in the 
dojo -- and possibly cause something to catch on fire.
	"Well... I don't think I'm ever getting married," Emi said as she 
idly watched Nabiki collecting sign-up fees.
	Akane was taken somewhat aback by this admission.  Talk about 
personal.  And Emi was so... pretty!  Beautiful even.  Not to mention 
motivated and confident.  Akane couldn't imagine her having any trouble 
attracting the attention of any man she wanted.
	"Really?" was the only response Akane could pull out of her 
bafflement.
	Emi nodded.  "I have yet to meet a man that I respect enough to 
even consider dating," she said, "let alone marry."
	Akane thought this sounded remarkably like Nabiki, who had little 
use for men as anything but a means to make money.  Then again, it also 
sounded a bit like Akane herself.  Although admittedly, Akane hadn't 
felt quite so vehemently anti-boy in a while.  She wondered why that 
was.
	"I never really thought much about getting married, before the 
engagement," Akane found herself saying.  "I think most girls do, but I 
never really did.  Although... I think I did want to fall in love some 
day...."  Why was she being so honest with this person she had only just 
met?  Maybe that was exactly why; she didn't expect Emi to judge her by 
some preconceived view.  And she sensed a kindred spirit here.
	"Our parents arranged the engagement."  She discovered that she 
was watching Ranma conversing with his father and Kouryuu, and she 
looked hastily away.  "Anyway, neither of us ever really wanted it."
	"Didn't you have any say in it at all?" Emi asked, looking a bit 
shocked.  Akane knew what she was thinking: even arranged marriages 
should hinge on SOME degree of consent from the parties involved.
	"No, not really," Akane admitted.  "I was totally against it."  
Was?  She realized what she was saying.  When had she started taking her 
engagement to Ranma seriously?  When had she first entertained the 
possibility that one day they would actually get married?
	"I... can understand that," Emi sympathized.  "My family has been 
trying to encourage me; they talk a lot about setting up marriage-
interviews with men, but I've avoided those so far."  She paused again, 
and then added with surprising candor, "Sometimes I really wish I could 
find a good boyfriend so that they would stop bugging me about it; but 
then I always remember that I hate men."  Her voice sounded almost sad.
	Akane wasn't sure how to respond.  Emi related thoughts and 
feelings much like Akane's own, but they were disconcertingly juxtaposed 
with others Akane had never encountered.  It was strangely revealing, as 
though Akane could see herself a little better in the light of Emi's 
contrasting experiences.  She got the sense that Emi was older than she 
looked, older than Akane herself, and had seen more of life.
	Emi now looked slightly embarrassed by the personal turn her words 
had taken.  "It looks like things are winding down," she said.  "I'd 
better get going."
	"Wait."  Akane grabbed her hand, startling herself almost as much 
as Emi with the familiar gesture.  "I....  Please do come back.  I 
really enjoyed sparring with you today."
	Emi's expression melted into a friendly smile, and she gave 
Akane's hand a gentle squeeze.  "Me too.  Maybe we can spar again 
tomorrow?"
	Akane nodded.  "Yes, I'd like that."  She added, more shyly, "And 
maybe we could talk some more...?"  Akane hadn't realized until now how 
much she needed a sympathetic ear; someone who would listen, but wasn't 
prying or teasing (like Nabiki), and who might share their own 
perspective, but without doling out "adult" advice, trying to act like 
her mother and treating her like a child (as Kasumi inevitably would).
	"Of course," Emi replied.  "Tomorrow then?"
	"Tomorrow," Akane agreed, smiling.
	Akane already had two sisters.  It had never occurred to her that 
she could be so pleased by the possibility that she might have found 
another one.

	"Alooooooha, students!"
	Principal Kunou's voice, amplified over the assembly speakers, was 
no less obnoxious than usual.  Nabiki wondered what he had dragged them 
out of class for this time.
	"I be havin' BIG announcement to make dis mornin'!" he continued 
enthusiastically.  "My boy Tatchi --" the principal raised a hand, and a 
spotlight came on, shining down on the row of seats in front of Nabiki.  
It illuminated an empty chair.  Nabiki frowned.  Hadn't someone been 
sitting there just a moment before?
	"Eh?  Where dat boy got himself to?"  Principal Kunou's gaze 
zipped around across the ranks of students, then up to the ceiling, then 
back down again.  Nabiki could hear a general murmur of confusion rising 
in the gymnasium-cum-auditorium.  What was going on?
	"Tatchi?"  Principal Kunou looked around some more, then lifted 
his palms up and shrugged.  "Oh well.  Okaey den students, dis be da 
announcement: my boy Tatchi, you see, he a lonely boy...."
	Nabiki froze in her seat as an icy claw of realization gripped her 
spine. Suddenly she knew exactly what this "announcement" was all about.  
Like a bolt of lightning, she was up out of her chair and running, 
thanking her luck she had been in an aisle seat.  Her heart pounding, 
she raced for the stage.  She had to get to the sound board before--
	"... he need a good wahine, so my boy gon' marry..."
	Too late; she wasn't going to make it.  The final, fatal words 
were on his lips.
	A screech of feedback rent the air.  What was...?  Students 
cringed and yelled.  Nabiki kept running.
	She rounded the corner of the stage to see the sound board 
operator lying unconscious on the ground, and a familiar bokken-wielding 
figure leaping away from the mutilated remains of the sound board.  The 
saboteur landed on the stage, swinging his bokken with an almost crazed 
look on his face; a speaker exploded and fell in half, showering sparks 
across the front row of students.
	Then all hell broke loose.  Students screamed and yelled, many 
stampeding for the exits in confusion and mass hysteria at the sudden 
chaos.  Kunou leapt at his father, braining him soundly and then turning 
to mangle the microphone stand with a few powerful strokes of his 
bokken.  Nabiki watched silently, her heart still beating against her 
ribcage, as he tore into every piece of sound equipment in sight like a 
man possessed.
	He jumped lightly down from the stage, his eyes still filled with 
the glow of rage as his gaze locked on Nabiki.  "Tendou Nabiki, swear to 
me that you had no hand in this foul plot of my father's."
	Nabiki stepped back, but held her ground in the face of his 
ferocity.  "Are... are you stupid?"
	The mad light of battle started to leave his eyes.  "No, I suppose 
even you would not stoop to such machinations."
	"You're damn right I wouldn't!" she fairly screamed in his face.  
Her poise had been completely shattered, her nerves shot with panic, and 
she hated it.
	"Then we are of one mind and one purpose in this," he said.  
"Fighting will get us nowhere."
	Nabiki blinked.  Was Kunou actually talking sense?
	She let out her breath, watching the staff and students mill about 
in confusion, some trying to right chairs that had been toppled in the 
initial rush, others continuing to knock more over.  She felt her 
anxiety resolving itself into familiar calculation.  "I suppose not.  
We'll have to work together to take this on; your assets, my brains."  
She had to admit that he had acted fast and saved both their necks just 
now; but that didn't mean she had to thank him.
	"For now I will set aside your crudely implied slander against my 
intellect for the sake of the greater good.  We cannot afford to waste 
time in petty pursuits if we wish to foil my father.  To that end, I 
have also taken the liberty of disabling the school's PA system."
	"Well, that ought to slow him down at least," Nabiki acknowledged.
	"My thoughts exactly.  But this is neither the time nor the place 
for such discussions."
	Nabiki nodded.  "Later.  This afternoon.  I can't stray too far 
from the dojo during classes until I'm sure things are going to run 
smoothly on their own, so you'll have to come by there."
	"We shall meet at the Tendou Dojo then.  But while time is of the 
essence, this day I cannot so brazenly abandon my after-school duties as 
captain of the illustrious kendo club, Tendou Nabiki.  If nothing else, 
it would raise suspicion."
	"Fine.  Come by tomorrow."
	"Tomorrow it is then," Kunou agreed, and without a word further 
they returned to join their class as the teachers began rounding up 
students and leading them back to the classrooms.
	Nabiki made a point of ignoring Kunou more than usual as their 
classmates pestered him with questions about the principal's truncated 
announcement.  He disavowed any knowledge, a surprisingly sound tactic 
from Kunou.  But Nabiki understood his unusual show of discretion; she 
of all people knew exactly what was at stake here.
	Back in the classroom, speculations were quickly derailed by the 
subject of a different announcement.  Nabiki guessed that, before now, 
no one in the class besides herself had ever seen the blonde foreigner 
standing at the front of the classroom smiling roguishly.  But like her 
they were all probably wondering what in the world he was doing there.
	"Class, I would like to introduce a new foreign exchange student,"
the teacher said, gesturing aside to the young foreigner.  "This is 
Preston-kun, who has recently come from..." the teacher checked a sheet 
on his podium, frowned, and started flipping backwards through several 
other pages.  "Well... from a lot of places.  Um... so anyway, let's all 
give Preston-kun a warm 'haro'!"
	The class echoed the English greeting obediently.  Preston bowed 
and responded respectfully, also in English, "Your pronunciation is 
terrible."  Of course, no one except Nabiki seemed to catch the meaning 
of the sentence.
	"Preston-kun," the teacher said, turning to him.  "I understand 
you know Japanese quite well or you wouldn't be here, but I have 
arranged for you to sit next to Tendou Nabiki-san.  She is the class's 
best student in English.  If there's anything you don't understand, she 
will be glad to help you."
	Nabiki groaned inwardly as Preston moved to take the empty seat 
beside her.
	"What are you doing here?" she shot at him in an undervoice 
without turning to look at him.  "Don't they have special schools for 
people like you?"
	Preston followed her example, lowering his voice and facing ahead.  
"Special schools?" he questioned.  "You mean English-language schools 
for foreigners, or schools for ridiculously attractive people?"
	"No, I mean schools for the mentally impaired!"
	Preston smirked.  "They were full."
	A moment of silence passed as the teacher began writing on the 
chalkboard.
	"Don't get too familiar," Nabiki warned him coldly, keeping her 
eyes forward.  "I won't be as forgiving of your impudence as Ukyou was 
yesterday."  And Ukyou had hardly been forgiving.
	Preston grinned, also without taking his eyes off the chalkboard.  
"We're gonna be great friends."

	Kouryuu sat across from his attractive and ever-gracious hostess, 
sipping tea.  She smiled at him, which made him nervous.  Of course, 
proximity to beautiful women in general made him nervous, mostly because 
he wasn't used to it.  He thought he hid his anxiety under such 
circumstances as well as he ever did.  But the kind eyes of his hostess 
-- Tendou Kasumi, the eldest daughter, he reminded himself -- seemed to 
see through him.  And yet her gaze did not seem to be judging him in any 
way (unusual by itself), so he couldn't be certain.
	<So,> Kouryuu thought.  <This will be my new home.  For now.>  The 
house and grounds were lovely and well-tended, that much was true.  He 
had already agreed to stay and teach here, but the last hour of tea and 
quiet conversation had rapidly weakened his resolve.
	It occurred to Kouryuu now, only after the fact, that it may have 
been a lapse in judgment to agree to reside in a house that clearly had 
more than its fair share of young and attractive women around at any 
given time.  He reminded himself that only three of those he had seen 
the day before actually lived here.
	Perhaps it was a test.  Perhaps the exposure would toughen him, 
make him more resistant, and better able to withstand unnerving things 
like tea and conversation with beautiful women.
	Or maybe he had unconsciously overlooked the reasons not to stay 
because he actually liked being around beautiful women, in spite of the 
anxiety he felt in their presence.  This last notion had a ring of truth 
to it, but Kouryuu was determined to treat the whole thing as a test all 
the same.
	"Man, you guys are quiet.  What, are you having a staring contest 
or something?" Preston broke in.  "Or a smile-at-each-other-politely 
contest, see who can hold it the longest?"
	Kasumi smiled politely at Preston, who was sitting to Kouryuu's 
left.
	"Hey, I'm not playing," he protested, but the calm serenity of her 
smile only intensified, if at all possible.
	"How long have you been in Japan, Preston-kun?" Kasumi asked him.
	"Oh, I dunno, a month maybe?"
	"Your Japanese is very excellent."
	"Thanks."
	Well, Preston didn't seem to have any anxiety about conversing 
with beautiful women, Kouryuu noted, not for the first time, with a 
twinge of suppressed envy.  Then again, Preston showed few qualms about 
interacting with anyone.  Even after they bashed him in the head, which 
seemed to happen with alarming frequency.
	Some commotion from beyond the outer wall caught Kouryuu's ear.
	Their hostess tilted her head to the side, listening.  "That must 
be Ranma and Akane back from school," she remarked.  "My, it does sound 
like their arguing again."  She rose calmly, and bowed.  "If you'll 
excuse me, I think I had better get a kettle going."  And she turned and 
left the room.
	Before Kouryuu could even wonder at her words and actions, someone 
out on the street shouted, "Ranma you IDIOT!"
	The sound of a loud splash drew Kouryuu's attention to the koi 
pond.  A moment later, a red-headed figure in Chinese clothes emerged 
from the pond.  Kouryuu realized it was yet another beautiful young 
woman, as she marched sullenly but determinedly into the house, dripping 
across the tatami-mat floor, and into the kitchen.
	Kouryuu looked at Preston.  Preston looked at Kouryuu.
	"Was that...?" Kouryuu started, but trailed off, unsure of what he 
should be asking.
	Preston shrugged, looking genuinely baffled.
	Suddenly, the youngest Tendou daughter stormed past, and Kouryuu 
heard her tromping angrily up the stairs.
	"Huh," Preston said, summing up the situation quite effectively.
	After a lengthy pause in which Kouryuu sat somewhat bemused, 
Tendou Nabiki stepped in from the hallway.  "I'm home -- oh, Kouryuu-
san.  Welcome."  Her eye caught on Preston.
	"What's HE doing here?" she asked, her tone going from congenially 
businesslike to suspicious and almost indignant.
	Preston cocked a thumb in Kouryuu's direction.  "I'm with stupid."
	"Your disrespect is unwarranted," Kouryuu informed him calmly -- 
but only after his fist had shot out and struck Preston in the side of 
the head as if by its own will.  Kouryuu frowned at his fist, annoyed 
with Preston and with himself.  "See?  Now you've made me transgress my 
vow of nonviolence."
	"I'd say you had better get used to breaking that particular vow, 
if you're going to be staying here and teaching at the dojo," Tendou 
Nabiki told him blandly.
	"I will not lift my hand in anger," Kouryuu replied solemnly.
	Tendou Nabiki flicked her gaze to Preston sprawled on the floor 
and then back to Kouryuu.  Her mouth quirked ironically.
	Kouryuu followed her glance.  "Er... again, that is," he amended.
	"You see, Kouryuu's got this problem," Preston was saying as he 
pushed himself upright again.  "Well, frankly he's got a lot of problems 
--" Kouryuu ground his teeth; Preston blithely continued, ignoring him 
"-- but hey, who doesn't?  Anyway, Kouryuu doesn't take direct insults 
very well, like if you call him something nasty to his face.  Got to do 
with his upbringing, I guess."
	"I see," she replied with little interest.  "So you two know each 
other?"
	"Oh, yeah, we go way back," Preston answered readily.
	The middle Tendou daughter was watching Preston as though trying 
to gauge something about him.  "Where are you from?" she asked.
	Preston just grinned at her.  "Guess."
	"America," she shot back.
	"Nope, guess again," Preston returned, still grinning.
	"Australia?" she said, somewhat more hesitantly.
	"Wrong again.  Keep it up, you're on a roll."
	"Mars!" she retorted, glaring at him angrily.  "I don't have time 
for guessing games, I've got things to do."  She turned and headed for 
the stairs.
	"Man, some people have no sense of fun," Preston commented, still 
grinning as he watched her leave; she pointedly ignored him.
	"Somehow, I seriously doubt that's the problem," Kouryuu told him.
	Preston turned to him.  "See, that's just what I'm talking about: 
you seriously doubt, you seriously believe, -- hell, you even seriously 
smile!  You do everything seriously.  Lighten up a little!"
	Kouryuu just sighed.

	"Yo, Ucchan!"
	Ukyou looked up, her heart rising as her head did.  "Ranchan!"  
This was the first time he had come by since the disaster at the 
wedding, and it delighted Ukyou to no end to see his handsome smile as 
he strode in through the door.
	Behind him followed not Akane, thankfully, but the tall striking 
man Ranchan had sparred against the day before.  His ruined cloak had 
been replaced by what looked like a loose-fitting samurai's livery coat, 
thrown on over his forest-green Chinese shirt.  His odd mix of archaic 
Japanese and Chinese garb hardly fazed Ukyou (she was used to much 
stranger things), and it suited him well, she thought.  She had only met 
him briefly before, and was having trouble recalling his name.
	The next figure that stepped in after them she recognized all too 
well; her exuberance was severely dampened.
	"What's HE doing here?"
	"Am I having deja vu, or have I been getting that reception a lot 
today?" Preston asked the other man -- Kouryuu, she remembered.
	"I highly suspect the latter," Kouryuu replied dryly.
	Preston smiled at him.  "You SERIOUSLY suspect."
	Kouryuu just shook his head and followed Ranchan to the grill.
	Ukyou focused her attention on Ranchan.  Much better.  "So what 
brings you here, sugar?"
	"Food, what else!" Ranchan replied happily as he sat.  She had 
hoped he would say SHE had brought him there, but she'd settle for the 
draw of her cooking.  She would catch her man yet, in a net woven of 
love and okonomiyaki.
	"I thought I'd bring Kouryuu here before classes at the dojo get 
started today, show him the best okonomiyaki in town," Ranchan 
continued.  "A kind of 'welcome to Nerima' thing, you know?"
	"You're too kind," Kouryuu remarked with a nod of thanks.
	Ranchan leaned back on his stool, arms behind his head, and 
grinned at the rafters.  "Yeah, sometimes I even amaze myself."
	"So what is HE doing here?" Ukyou leaned in and whispered to 
Ranchan, shooting a glance in Preston's direction.
	"He kinda tagged along," Ranchan confided under his breath.  
"Didn't know it'd be a problem.  Did he do something to you yesterday?"
	Ukyou shook her head, grimacing, but she couldn't maintain the 
expression and broke into a happy smile as she looked at Ranchan.
	"So, what can I get for you three then?"
	The next hour passed surprisingly quickly as Ukyou made 
okonomiyaki after okonomiyaki, pleased each time by the look on 
Ranchan's face while he ate.  Preston was blessedly quiet, seeming 
content, even happy, just sitting and watching everyone enjoy themselves 
-- although he did give Ukyou's cooking rave reviews and ate nearly as 
much as Ranchan, both of which pleased Ukyou in spite of herself.  It 
never failed to make her happy when someone so obviously appreciated her 
okonomiyaki, even someone so patently annoying.
	Kouryuu of course complimented her as well, but he seemed like the 
sort who would have said nice things about her cooking even if he hadn't 
thought much of it.  And he only ate one okonomiyaki, so she wasn't 
particularly flattered.  He was also the one to remind Ranchan when it 
was time that they should be heading back to the dojo to teach classes, 
which didn't endear him to her either, though she knew it was hardly his 
fault that Ranchan had to go.
	"You coming, Ucchan?" Ranchan asked as he stood to leave.
	Ukyou made a face.  "Can't, sugar.  I already missed the dinner 
rush last night, and if I do it again I could lose my regulars.  Some of 
my best customers come in the evenings."
	"Hey, I thought I was your best customer," Ranchan protested 
jokingly.
	Ukyou couldn't help but smile.  "You are, Ranchan.  I meant my 
best paying customers."
	Ranchan looked a bit guilty at this, and Ukyou regretted saying it 
immediately.  She hadn't meant anything by it.
	"Well... I'll pay you back for today," he promised, fidgeting.
	"Oh, no, that's okay," she assured him.
	Kouryuu reached into his sleeve and pulled out a stack of five yen 
pieces hanging on a cord that had been strung through the square holes 
in the coins' centers.  "I don't suppose this would be enough, but...."  
It looked like about 50 yen in all; the cord was probably worth more 
than the money on it.
	"Don't worry about it," Preston interrupted.  "I'll take care of 
the bill, you two get back to the dojo.  I'll catch up with you later."
	This idea did not appeal to Ukyou at all.  But with Nabiki's loan 
still hovering over her, the prospect of getting paid made her hold her 
tongue.
	"Really?" Ranchan asked.  "Hey, thanks, man.  You're a pal.  Later 
Ucchan!"  He waved and ducked out.  Kouryuu bowed his thanks to both 
Ukyou and Preston and hurried after.
	Preston watched them leave, and then turned back to Ukyou.  He 
pulled out a wallet from his jeans pocket and started counting out 
money.
	"So... you like Ranma, right?"
	It was just about the last thing Ukyou could have expected him to 
say.  She stared at him for a while, and then blurted, "He's my fiancé!"
	Preston's eyebrows went up.  "Really?"
	"Yes," she affirmed, and added, with as much conviction as she 
could muster.  "We're going to get married.  So don't look so 
surprised."
	"It's just... he didn't treat you much like his fiancée," Preston 
remarked.  "More like... an old friend."
	Ukyou looked away.  It was true enough.  "You don't know us."
	Preston just looked at her without responding.  He put a hand out, 
offering her a stack of bills.  "This ought to cover everything."
	Ukyou took the money and counted it.  Then frowned, and counted it 
again.
	"Can't you count?  This is way too much."
	"We'll call the extra a tip."
	"Tip?" Ukyou wondered aloud at him.  Oh.  Right.  That Western 
custom Ukyou had never really understood -- something about paying after 
you had already paid.  "Oh, no, people don't 'tip' here."
	"They don't?  How rude of them."
	Ukyou sighed, opened the register and started putting the money 
away.  "Whatever.  Are you done now, or what?"  She was impatient for 
the aggravating -- if generous -- foreigner to get on his way.
	"Why do you do it?" Preston asked curiously.
	Ukyou blinked.  "Do what?"
	"Why do you waste your time mooning over some guy who just treats 
you like a friend he can swing a free lunch from?"
	It was an overly forward question, but an honest one.  And yet it 
stung Ukyou like one of Nabiki's barbed "observations."
	"That's not how he treats me!" she fervently denied, slamming the 
register closed.  "And for your information, he doesn't come here 
because its free, he comes here because he likes my cooking!"
	"Not because he likes you?" Preston asked.  "And don't all of your 
customers come here because they like your cooking?"
	"Shut up!"
	The few other customers in the restaurant were starting to look up 
at the commotion, frowning, or just staring.
	"Okay then," Preston relented good-naturedly.  "Let's talk about 
something else."
	"I don't want to talk to you!" Ukyou snapped at him.  "So why 
don't you just go away!"
	Preston looked at her, his expression somewhere between amused and 
quizzical.  "You know, I get the feeling we aren't communicating 
properly here."
	Ukyou threw her hands up.  "Are you stupid or something?  You 
can't take a hint, and then when I tell you to leave outright, you still 
don't get it!"
	"Oh, I get it.  But I want to leave on a happy note.  I think 
you'll feel better in a little bit, so as much as I hate being around 
angry people, I'll stay.  Here, I'll make you an omelet.  How's that 
sound?"
	Before she could answer, Preston hopped over the griddle, grabbed 
a spatula in one hand and three eggs in the other and went to work.  
Cracking all three eggs expertly onto the griddle with a flick of his 
wrist, he sought about for other ingredients, throwing them in as he 
talked.
	"Hmm, doing this on a griddle instead of in a pan isn't gonna work 
too well."  He shrugged.  "I'll manage.  You got cheese?"
	Ukyou just pointed dumbly at the low refrigerator behind him.  
	"Ah... hey, you got all kindsa stuff in here," Preston said as he 
knelt down and pulled the door open.  "Awesome."
	Ukyou was impressed by the ease and speed with which he diced a 
piece of cheese and added it to the omelet.  The methodical movement of 
his hands became like a ritual, and she felt herself calming as she 
watched him work.  She was still angry, but she was more in control now.
	"You know what your problem is?  You act way too familiar with 
everyone and everything," she remarked, somewhat pointedly.
	"Oh, yeah?" Preston said off-handedly, as if her comment didn't 
faze him in the least.  "That's a pretty forward thing to say, isn't 
it?"
	Ukyou did not rise to the bait.
	"You know what YOUR problem is?" Preston asked, and paused as 
though waiting for a response -- as if he wasn't going to tell her 
whether she wanted to hear it or not.  "You've got these negative 
feelings you don't know what to do with.  Like right now: you're angry, 
and you don't know why you're angry."
	Ukyou fairly snorted at the absurdity of this.  She did not get 
angry for no good reason; she was NOT Akane.  "I know exactly why I'm 
angry right now."
	"Because of Ranma?"
	The rest of Ukyou's reply caught in her throat.  "What?"
	"You're angry because of Ranma."
	"No, I'm angry because of YOU!  Why would I be angry at Ranchan?"
	"Because he doesn't return your feelings."
	Ukyou whipped out a hand-spatula.  "Will you shut up with that!"
	Preston dodged her strikes while he continued to cook the omelet.  
"I really think everyone should be happy, Ukyou.  You should try being 
happy.  I think it would look really good on you."
	"If you think I should be happy, then stop saying shit to piss me 
off!" she retorted, still trying to hit him.
	"I didn't MAKE you angry, Ukyou," Preston said as he flipped the 
finished omelet onto a plate and presented it to her.  "Here."
	Ukyou glared at the omelet.  It looked really good.  She glared at 
Preston, who was smiling at her.  She took the plate.  Then she slammed 
him in the side of the head with her hand-spatula.  "That's for being a 
jerk."
	"You're welcome," Preston replied evenly from the griddle.

	Nabiki held her clipboard and read through the list of students.  
She glanced at the young man standing before her, dressed in a kendo-gi 
and carrying a bokken, certain she had never seen him there before -- 
though he did look somehow familiar.  He wore his long dark hair tied 
back neatly, and he had a handsome face that reminded her of someone.  
An actor from a historical drama, she thought, given that his outfit and 
appearance lent him a certain samurai-esque quality.
	"Last name?" she asked.
	"Hasegawa," he responded simply.
	"I don't see your name on the list of paid clients," she informed 
him as neutrally as she could.
	"I assure you that I am paid in full, Tendou-san."
	Well, he seemed to have some idea of who she was, even if she 
didn't remember him from the open house.  Maybe he had been dressed 
differently and had stood out less.
	Nabiki started chewing on the end of her pen thoughtfully, but 
stopped herself.  She really had to kick that habit -- very 
unprofessional.
	That Preston kid hadn't come back from Ucchan's with Ranma and 
Kouryuu.  Nabiki had been half hoping that this meant that he was dead.  
But the loss in profit would be bad, as he was a paying customer, so she 
would refrain from thanking Ukyou if it turned out to be true.  In the 
mean time, she had no qualms about giving away his spot in the class to 
this handsome stranger, effectively making the aggravating foreigner pay 
for a day of someone else's training.
	The only problem was....
	"That bokken," she pointed with a flick of her pen.  "We don't 
have any kendo instructors here, and there aren't any other kendoists 
for you to spar with today."
	"What about him?" the young man, Hasegawa, gestured to the dojo 
entrance.
	Nabiki turned to see Kunou striding purposefully in, decked out in 
his usual kendo uniform, an expression of determination on his face.
	"I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow," Nabiki said as he 
approached, though she was honestly relieved he'd come sooner -- they 
really needed to work on foiling this pineapple-brained stunt of his 
father's.  "What happened to your responsibility as captain of the kendo 
team and all that?"
	"I made a pretense of retreat into meditation in order to slip 
away, though it grieves me deeply to take so subversive and cowardly a 
tact.  But discretion, as they say, is the better part of valor, and 
needs must we be discreet in this the winter of our discontent."
	Of all the clichés that Kunou could have spouted, Nabiki had never 
expected to hear anything about the value of discretion.  He was really 
taking this thing seriously.  Good.
	She gestured to the patiently waiting Hasegawa.  "Kunou-chan, this 
is Hasegawa-kun."
	Before she could say more, Kunou cut in.  "Greetings, Hasegawa.  I 
am Kunou Tatewaki, rising star of the high school kendo world, called 
the Blue Th--"
	"Enough, Kunou-chan," Nabiki interrupted.  "Business first.  After 
our... discussion, you can be his sparring partner for the afternoon."
	Kunou nodded.  "Agreed.  Where shall we retire to for our meeting 
of minds?  This training hall is far too crowded."
	"Follow me," Nabiki said.  Kunou gave a slight bow to Hasegawa, 
who returned it, and he and Nabiki left the noisy dojo.
	Outside was not much better, with scattered groups of martial 
artists sparring in the open, taking advantage of the relatively 
unconfined space.  Nabiki managed to find a vacant corner by the wall.
	"Will anyone be suspicious about your disappearance?" she asked, 
facing Kunou.
	"No, I often retreat into meditation during kendo practice."
	Nabiki looked at him quizzically.  "Don't you think the time could 
be better served by actually practicing?  Maybe Ranma wouldn't beat you 
all the time if you practiced more."
	Kunou was unflappable.  "No such worldly concerns can keep me from 
my spiritual devotions."  Having seen Kunou's "meditation" room in the 
school dojo, Nabiki doubted that the nature of his devotions were in any 
way spiritual.  "But that is beside the point," he continued, "as I 
practice at all other hours of the day and night, and Saotome only 
manages to defeat me through the use of trickery and black magic."
	Nabiki sighed.  "Whatever.  Keep telling yourself that," she said, 
and waved it aside; on to business.  "You understand your father better 
than I do -- if it's even possible to understand him.  Can we get him to 
call off this engagement nonsense?"
	Kunou shook his head, his expression dour.  "I'm afraid you don't 
comprehend his resolve in this.  When my father says to put the lime in 
the coconut, his mind is set and he cannot be dissuaded."
	Nabiki stared at him blankly.  "Put the lime in the coconut?"
	"I have no more an idea of what it means than thee, Tendou Nabiki.  
But heed my word that he will not back down from this endeavor."
	Nabiki stood with her arms crossed, silently fuming.  She threw 
her hands up in frustration.  "Well we can't go on stalling him forever!  
What are we supposed to do, kill him?"
	"I had considered that course of action," Kunou confided.  "But I 
think we should consider other, less dire measures first."
	Nabiki met Kunou's level gaze.
	"You're serious?  You'd do that?  Murder your own father?"
	"Tendou Nabiki," Kunou replied seriously, "far be it from some 
crazed school administrator with a palm tree sprouting from his crown to 
sunder me from my two true loves in favor of YOU."
	<Of course,> Nabiki thought sardonically.  She should have known 
that her little sister and Kunou's precious "pig-tailed goddess" would 
factor most heavily in his thoughts and actions.
	"But in sooth," he continued, "I do not know that I have the will 
for patricide within me.  Better that I should ship him away to his 
beloved islands in a crate and pray that this time he does not return."
	"So, why don't you?" Nabiki challenged.
	"It provides no guarantee of his permanent absence, nor of his 
silence on the subject of our benighted shackling," he pointed out.  
"Thankfully, my father's notoriously short attention span should save us 
in the end.  We need but persevere until it is banished from his 
thoughts by the passage of time through an addled brain."
	Nabiki was impressed; Kunou actually could be sensible when he put 
his mind to it.  Here she had fully expected to be the brains of this 
operation, and yet Kunou was providing all of the answers.  She would 
have been annoyed, but she couldn't afford it, given the dire nature of 
their circumstances.
	"How long will it take for him to forget?" she questioned.
	"At most, I would give him less than a fortnight before his ever-
shifting interests are caught up by some new way to make our lives 
miserable."
	"So.  A few weeks then.  I think we -- I can handle that."  Nabiki 
pondered a moment.  "Alright then, Kunou-chan; we've got our basic 
strategy, now we need tactics.  So listen up...."

	"You know, Akane," Emi said as they started on their second lap 
around the outside of the dojo, "if you really don't want to marry this 
fiancé of yours, you should really both confront your parents about it."
	"Oh, I'm sorry, I've been complaining too much," Akane apologized.
	"Not at all," Emi replied.  Although to be honest, Akane had spent 
a good amount of time so far complaining about her fiancé.
	"Anyway, we told them we didn't want any part of it when they 
first announced the engagement.  It didn't do any good."
	"Well... maybe they'll listen to you if you both come to them and 
just explain it to them, in no uncertain terms.  It couldn't hurt to try 
at least.  I mean, you've said that he calls you names all the time, and 
goes around with other girls; it's pretty clear from what you've told me 
that he doesn't care for you, right?"
	Akane didn't respond.  Her eyes were averted, her gaze downcast, 
staring at the ground and her running feet.  Emi just watched her, 
puzzled.  Neither of them saw the low tree-branch until it was too late.
	"Ow!"  Akane's forehead rebounded from the violent contact and she 
stumbled back, sitting heavily.  She put her hands over her face.
	"Akane!" Emi cried in surprise and concern, kneeling in the dust 
in front of her.  "Are you alright?  Did you hurt your eye?"
	She realized that Akane's shoulders were shaking slightly.  Emi 
reached out and slowly drew Akane's hands away from her face.  Her 
bright eyes were tearful, but unharmed.  Part of a bruise showed at the 
edge of her hairline, but she seemed otherwise uninjured.  Suddenly, 
Akane grabbed Emi by the front of her gi and buried her face in 
Emi's shoulder.
	Unsure of what to do, Emi patted Akane comfortingly on the back, 
feeling strangely like a big sister for the first time in her only-child 
existence.
	"Hey, now," she soothed.  "It didn't hurt that badly, did it?"
	Akane just shook her head, her face still hidden against Emi's 
shoulder.  Emi realized that the minor injury of the bruise wasn't what 
had made Akane cry.  The branch had only served to crack some facade and 
expose some other pain.
	Emi tried to think what she had said that could have brought 
Akane's hidden emotions so close to the surface that the sudden 
collision had forced them out.
	"It's about your fiancé, isn't it?"
	Akane seemed to be holding her breath.  Slowly, she nodded silent 
confirmation against the fabric of Emi's karate-gi that was becoming 
damp with her tears.
	Under any other circumstances Emi never would have pried; some 
part of her remained shocked that she had even posed the question.  But 
she felt that Akane really needed to talk about whatever was bothering 
her, that she really WANTED to talk about it, but couldn't without some 
encouragement.
	"Talk to me, Akane," Emi offered gently.
	Akane pulled back, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her gi.
	Emi shifted her legs and sat down in the dirt across from Akane, 
ignoring for the time being how dirty they were both getting.  Sometimes 
you just had to get dirty to get things done.
	"So," she began, when Akane didn't offer any clarifications.  "I 
take it you don't hate your fiancé as much as you claim."
	Akane looked away, off to her right and into the distance, gazing 
sullenly at nothing.  A jerk of her chin passed for a nod, acknowledging 
the truth of Emi's observation.
	"And you're worried about how he feels about you?"
	She sniffed.
	"Do you... even know how you feel about him?"
	Akane looked at the ground between them.  She shook her head 
slowly, reluctantly, as if she was even uncertain about her own 
uncertainty.
	Emi was beginning to get the feeling that she had so far gotten a 
one-sided picture of Akane's fiancé.  But, even if he had redeeming 
qualities, Emi couldn't encourage the girl in some half-felt infatuation 
with a guy who had done any of the things Akane claimed her fiancé had 
done.
	"Akane, you can't stay with a guy if he doesn't treat you right.  
What has he ever done to show you he even cares about you?"
	Akane fidgeted, making abstract patterns in the dust with a 
finger.  "Well... once, when he didn't know that I could hear him... he 
told me... he loved me...."
	"So what?"
	Akane's head came up, her eyes wide.  "Wha... what do you mean 
'so what'?"
	"Caring is about actions, not words," Emi said.
	Akane looked thoughtful, considering this.  "He... always comes 
when I'm in trouble."  A small smile poked through her sullen 
expression.  "Even when I don't want his help, sometimes...."
	"Would he come if he didn't care?"
	Akane looked at the ground again.  "No, I guess not.  But... what 
if...."
	"Try to forget about the what ifs," Emi recommended.  Did she 
really have the authority to be doling out advice on relationships?  It 
wasn't as if she had much successful experience to stand on.  She pushed 
the thought from her mind.  Now was time to focus on Akane's problems, 
not her own.
	"Sometimes..." Akane was saying, that tiny smile slipping out 
again.  "Sometimes, once in a long while, he can do something really... 
sweet."
	"So is it worth it?" Emi asked.  "Is it worth it to be with him 
for those few moments out of the day, or month, or year, when he isn't 
acting like a complete ass?"
	Akane's gaze went distant, as if she were seriously contemplating 
this question.  Emi stifled a laugh.
	Akane frowned.  "What's funny?"
	"I'm sorry, Akane, it's just--" she let slip an involuntary giggle 
"--that wasn't really a serious question.  How can you consider marrying 
someone who acts like a complete ass?"
	Akane smiled a bit, obviously infected by Emi's mirth, but trying 
to look indignant in spite of it.  "He's not so bad most of the time."
	"Well, it's up to you," she replied seriously, but was unable to 
keep the smile from her face.  "But if he doesn't shape up, I'd say he 
doesn't deserve your attention and you should dump him, maybe find a 
nicer guy."
	"That's easy for you to say," Akane said.  "You're so pretty and 
talented, you could probably just get any guy you wanted."
	Emi sighed, shaking her head.  "Akane, YOU'RE pretty and talented.  
YOU could get any guy you wanted."
	Akane blushed, "No, I'm not... I mean, I'm just...."
	"Akane, listen to me," Emi interrupted her stammering refusal of 
the honest praise.  "Don't ever let any guy make you think you're not 
worthy of him.  If a guy doesn't show you enough respect, doesn't make 
you happy, or whatever, then HE isn't worthy of YOU."  She put a hand on 
Akane's shoulder.  "Remember that, okay?"
	Akane smiled shyly, and nodded.  "Okay."

	The sound of approaching feet caused them both to look up.  Two 
figures appeared around the corner of the training hall.  One was Tendou 
Nabiki, the cool and strikingly young business manager of the dojo -- 
Akane's sister.  Emi didn't recognize the other, a tall, aristocratic-
looking fellow with a handsome shock of brown hair.
	"Now there's an unlikely pair," Akane whispered, apparently half 
to herself.  "Unless Nabiki's up to something."
	Before Emi could ask for any clarification, the tall young man --  
he didn't look much older than Akane -- came rushing forward with a cry 
of "Tendou Akane!  My love!" only to be bowled over by a swift uppercut 
that sent him tumbling back the way he had come.
	The move was executed like some violent parody of a ballet, as 
though precisely choreographed and practiced a thousand times.  A single 
thought came unbidden to Emi's mind, <why doesn't she fight like that 
when she's sparring me?>
	Nabiki stepped gingerly around the prone form of the young man, 
shaking her head.  "Kunou-chan, when will you ever learn?"
	"When some other star doth teach my heart to burn more brightly," 
he replied calmly from where he was sprawled on the ground.
	"What about your beloved pig-tailed girl?"
	Still lying flat on his back, the young man, who was apparently 
named Kunou, replied, "The abundance of my love cannot be measured in a 
single cup, Tendou Nabiki."
	"Um... Akane?" Emi interrupted.  "This guy couldn't be... your 
fiancé?"
	"What?  NO!" Akane denied with the force of a jackhammer.
	Before Emi could even finish being properly surprised by Akane's 
outburst, Kunou was up on his knees and enfolding Akane in a warm 
embrace.
	"Ah, but it is true!  We are destined to be wed -- ACK!"  His head 
collided with the branch that Akane had bumped into earlier.
	<This is getting really strange,> Emi thought.
	"Kunou, will you cut it out!" Akane shouted at him.  "For the last 
time, I will not date you, or marry you, or whatever!"
	Kunou sat up, straight-backed and cross-legged.  "Tendou Akane, 
you WOUND me with your words."
	Akane brandished a fist at him.  "I'll wound you with more than 
words if you keep it up!"
	"Is this man bothering you, ladies?"
	All eyes turned to see another kendo-carrying young man 
approaching from the other direction.  Emi suddenly felt like she had 
accidentally stumbled into some bad samurai drama.
	"Ah," Kunou said, standing and dusting himself off.  "Hasegawa, 
isn't it?  I did promise you a taste of my fighting prowess to bolster 
your own training.  Well then, sirrah, so that your meager skills might 
improve under the tutelage of my unsurpassable greatness, let us repair 
to the training hall."
	"I think your 'unsurpassable greatness' can be repaired right 
here," replied the newcomer -- Hasegawa?  He brandished his bokken.  
"Allow me."
	Kunou's eyes flashed.  "A challenge then, is it?  Very well, 
cretin, you shall taste the wrath of the Blue Thunder."
	Hasegawa smirked.  "No thank you.  I don't like energy drinks.  
But I will be perfectly glad to land you in that tree," he gestured to 
the tree that had so far today had two heads violently accost its lowest 
branch.
	"Ha!" Kunou laughed.  "Such impudence!"  He charged.
	And landed with a thud on his head in the middle branches of the 
small conifer.
	"Hmm."  His upside-down frown looked more speculative than angry 
as he crossed his arms and legs.  "I seem to have underestimated you as 
an opponent.  Perhaps my skills have waned from disuse after all."
	"I'll say," Nabiki agreed readily.  "You SO should have been able 
to counter that.  Even I saw it coming a kilometer off."
	Now it was Hasegawa's eyes that flashed.  "Oh really?"
	Suddenly, he lunged at Nabiki.  Emi's reflexes got her as far as 
her knees before the young kendoist had used his bokken to sweep 
Nabiki's legs out from under her, lift her, and place her on the lowest 
branch of the tree in a single, smooth motion, putting her head about 
level with Kunou's.
	"I suppose you saw that one coming too?" he asked.
	"From a kilometer off," Nabiki replied shakily.
	Angrily, Emi grabbed the end of Hasegawa's bokken, effectively 
getting his attention.
	"Listen, dirtbag," she snapped.  "I don't like guys who pick on 
untrained girls and people weaker than themselves.  If you want to 
tangle with a real martial artist, then take me on."
	Hasegawa looked down at her quizzically.  He gave a nod.  "Very 
well, then."
	Emi came to her feet with a back-spinning roundhouse kick that 
caught him full in the chest and sent him reeling into the wall of the 
dojo with a resounding slam.  He coughed, then let slip a hint of a 
smile.
	"You're not fooling around, are you?" he said in a slightly 
strained voice.
	"You're damn right I'm not!" she shot back.  It had irked her 
enough the way he had strolled right in and inserted himself into the 
situation, picking a fight with this poor sap Kunou for no apparent 
reason.  But then when he went and treated Nabiki like he had, just 
because she was a defenseless girl and he thought he could get away with 
it -- that had really pissed Emi off.  
	"Emi, calm down," Akane urged her.
	"It's really not a big deal," Nabiki commented, though it sounded 
forced, like she was downplaying how much he had shaken her up.  "It was 
actually... kind of cool."
	Emi ignored their protests as she and her opponent faced off, 
circling slowly.  She didn't much care for macho guys who tried to act 
"cool."  This one, she would teach a lesson.
	"What's going on here?" a strong voice broke in on Emi's anger-
fueled concentration.
	Kouryuu stood casting a somewhat bemused frown on the collection 
of students, managers, residents, and guests of the Tendou dojo, 
scattered through the foliage and across the ground in front of him.
	When no one responded to his question, Emi obliged.  "I'm about to 
kick the tar out of this creep, that's what's going on!"
	Kouryuu's frown became more severe, which was disconcerting, since 
Emi had never seen him do anything except smile amiably, to varying 
degrees.  He also towered over her head and shoulders -- she had thought 
Kunou tall, when he was standing next to Nabiki, but Emi realized that 
she only came up to about the middle of Kouryuu's chest.  She resented 
being intimidated, especially by males, and right now Emi didn't 
particularly care that Kouryuu's height wasn't his fault -- it was just 
one more thing to piss her off.
	"We don't... 'kick the tar out of' other students here, Sakai-san.  
We train.  Now, if there's a problem--"
	"I'll give you a problem if you don't butt out!" Emi snapped.
	Kouryuu sighed.  "Buddha preserve me.  If I'd wanted to sort out 
petty squabbles I'd have stayed in China and trained the novices in the 
monastery."
	Maybe he wasn't being intentionally condescending, but Kouryuu's 
"authoritative man" attitude was wearing on her already enflamed nerves.
	"Sensei or not," she said evenly, "don't talk down to me, or so 
help me I WILL hurt you."
	"Will SOMEBODY please decide who is fighting who?" Nabiki called 
from the sidelines where she was still perched in the tree with Kunou.
	"If you need to take your frustration out on someone," Kouryuu 
said, almost grudgingly, "you may spar with me."
	"Forget it," Hasegawa told him.  "I can handle this."
	Kouryuu eyed Emi appraisingly, which she didn't like one bit.  
"Don't be so sure," he replied.  "I've seen her fight, and she's quite 
skilled."
	Afforded this modicum of respect, Emi felt some of her rage cool.  
"THANK you," she breathed.
	"An honest assessment, nothing more," Kouryuu demurred.  He bowed 
aside to the open yard behind him.  "Shall we?"  It was almost as if he 
were asking her to dance, not challenging her to a sparring match.
	Emi hesitated a moment, then put on a purposeful frown and stepped 
forward, ready to test yet another teacher's mettle.
	And it was very much like a dance.  Kouryuu's moves were so fluid 
it was like trying to attack the rain, and her strikes only hit the 
cloth of his coat or else swished through empty air.  Whenever she 
thought her fist or foot was about to connect, he would counter, 
redirecting her attack to hit nothing and pushing her away with an open-
palmed strike.  Finally, as her frustration mounted, she started to land 
a few blows -- but they felt strange, without force, and she realized 
that Kouryuu was rolling with her strikes, and only a fraction of their 
power was getting through.
	She broke off her attacks, breathing heavily.  Kouryuu seemed 
hardly to have broken a sweat.  "You ARE good," she conceded.
	"Thank you," he returned, bowing.  "But I try to refrain from 
violence whenever I can."
	Which would explain his very defensive style, that had kept her at 
bay but done her no real harm.
	"You, too, are very skilled, as I said before" -- Emi felt 
embarrassed and even a bit pleased by the praise in spite of herself -- 
"but I'd appreciate it if you would also try to refrain from violence 
rather than beating up other students."  He gestured at Hasegawa, "Even 
if it IS only Piku over here." 
	A silence fell over the group.
	"Um... Kouryuu-sensei," Akane finally said from where she sat on 
the ground nearby.  "Did you just call him... Piku?"
	"Yes," Kouryuu said, in a tone that made it clear he didn't see 
anything unusual about that.
	"Hasegawa Piku," Hasegawa said.  "That's what I'm called."
	"What kind of a name is that for a man!" the still arboreal and 
upside-down Kunou bellowed in apparent indignation.
	"It sounds more like a cat's name to me," Nabiki remarked 
bemusedly, swinging her feet back and forth below her.
	Hasegawa -- Piku? -- grinned and made a claw gesture at Nabiki 
with one hand.  "Raowr!"
	From inside the dojo, a cry of "C-c-c-c-cAT!" rang out, followed 
by running footsteps.  A very pale and shaky Ranma rounded the corner, 
followed by his father and several very confused students.
	"Where's the cat, where's the cat?" Ranma panted, looking around 
in apparent terror.  "Get rid of it, get rid of it, getitouttahere!"
	<Okay,> Emi thought.  <NOW things are getting really strange.>  
All the previous events had obviously just been a prelude.
	"There's no cat, Ranma," Akane called.  "Go back to what you were 
doing."
	Ranma looked like he was about to collapse in relief.  "Oh.  Okay.  
Good.  No cat."  He turned to his students and waved an arm 
distractedly.  "Everything -- everything's fine.  Everybody, just, go 
back to what you were doin'."   Ranma's father started herding the 
puzzled students back into the training hall.
	Emi had calmed down quite a bit and didn't feel nearly so angry 
anymore -- but she was now very confused.  "Will somebody PLEASE explain 
what the HELL is going on around here!"
	"If only somebody knew," Nabiki said, almost wistfully.
	Kunou, who had been looking very thoughtful, suddenly spoke up.  
"It appears that you have a number of skilled martial artists attending 
these classes of yours, Tendou Nabiki.  Very well, I will deign to train 
here amongst your plebian clientele -- but I will accept nothing less 
than the title of High Master of the kendo hall!"
	"Call yourself what you like, Kunou-chan," Nabiki responded dryly.  
"You always do anyway.  But there's no kendo hall.  If you want to play 
with sticks, you'll have to stay outside."
	"What!?" Kunou cried, almost unseating his shoulders from their 
perch in the crook of two branches.  "No kendo hall at the Tendou dojo!  
Such a travesty against the martial arts has never been known!  SASUKE!"
	A small black-clad figure suddenly appeared in the branches of 
the tree beside Kunou.  "Yes, master?"
	Emi blinked.  A few others looked nearly as surprised as she felt, 
but Nabiki and Akane seemed to take it in stride.
	"Sasuke, I wish to draw funds from the Kunou estate to construct a 
kendo hall, here at the Tendou residence."
	"But master, where shall we build it?  The grounds have no room 
for a full-sized kendo hall."
	"Fine," Kunou replied promptly.  "Then purchase the empty lot 
next-door and build it there."
	"But there is no empty lot next door, master."
	"Then make one empty!" Kunou said through almost clenched teeth.  
"Now, no more of your excuses!  Make it so, Sasuke."
	"Yes, master."  And the figure vanished.
	"Did..." Emi pointed an uncertain finger at where the apparition 
had been an instant earlier.  "Did he just...?  Was that a NINJA?"
	"I... believe it was," Kouryuu responded with a puzzled look on 
his face.
	Kunou nodded solemnly in agreement -- which actually did manage to 
dislodge him from the tree.  He tumbled over to his right, landing on 
the branch next to Nabiki, who looked surprised for a moment while he 
continued to look solemn.  Then the branch gave way with a loud snap and 
they both came crashing to the ground in a heap.
	"Well," Akane said, still sitting on the ground.  "At least no one 
else will bump their head now."

End Part II

Part III will be written entirely in rhyming couplets without using the 
letter 'e'.