[FFML] [Ranma/OMG] [Revised] NaRT4 II - Vile Fables For Progressive Children Ch. 3-5

[David Andersson]

NaRT4 - Part II: Vile Fables For Progressive Children – Chapters 1-2

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Ranma ½ © Rumiko Takahashi, Oh! My Goddess! © Kosuke Fujishima, as well as any local licensee affiliates. However everything of my own creation connected to this story, including scenarios, titles, dialogue, text, and any original characters are © to myself, and may not be used without permission. Any similarity to existing people or organisations is entirely coincidental, beyond archetypal significance. No animals were harmed through the writing of this narrative. Constructive comments & criticism are very appreciated.

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Warning: 
The story will contain a great deal of potentially offensive, politically incorrect, unfamiliar, or emotionally challenging material, including disturbing characters and philosophies, swearing, layers of irony, and occasional graphic violence. Much of the text incorporates sweeping, tongue-in-cheek, over-the-top satire. Please use personal discretion, and do not enter without a sense of humour. If you can stand watching South Park or even the Simpsons, this likely shouldn’t present too much of a problem.

It’s also using a loose timeframe between scenes, much like the manga itself. Jumps may imply anything from a few hours to several days. The portrayals are almost exclusively matter-of-fact referenced in the source material, rather than any derivatives. 

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Crack-dating for dummies


The present:

Nothing particularly noteworthy transpired over the following few days. On Nabiki’s firm request, the couple largely refrained from direct contacts, to avoid drawing attention and bargain for time to readjust into the usual imbroglios without raising suspicions, until the now even more overcomplicated mess could somehow be tangled out. Strictly keeping up appearances by going through the usual routine at school, and swiftly taking care of a few challenges from Kuno.

Soun had dragged Genma off on a trip to Hokkaido, on a mission to get rid of a nest of tiny bothersome oni that were playing mischievous tricks on the guests of a newly built deluxe restaurant, as well as being a general nuisance for the cooks, creating impossible working conditions, and several resignations. The Tendo patriarch had literally strained against the panda to shove it out of bed, until he simply reminded his old training partner of the latter’s status as a freeloader who had a responsibility to help him make an income or get booted out of the door. Ranma had quipped that they might get treated to some choice courses when they were done, making his father’s eyes flicker, after which his mother had complained about ‘unmanly’ behaviour, and that had been that. Or would have been provided that Happosai hadn’t thought the oni sounded like “really nice guys, who know how to party”, which inflamed several more alarmed growls of
 protests. Nodoka eventually decided to chaperone them, to keep both her husband and the pint-sized lecher under surveillance.

Nabiki didn’t see fit to mention that she had produced the ‘infestation’ herself, as well as suggested her father’s services in the guise of a disgruntled ‘customer’, and would continue to ‘help’ him get well-paid assignments for as long as required to keep her goon squad family away. Anything serious had incited what she had, not so affectionately, labelled ‘whine time’ episodes of inverted priorities, where she actually cared either way. It had taken a severe mental exertion to even push this far. She was prepared to gradually unleash various ludicrous pestering obakemono: tanuki, yurei, kappa, rokuro kubi, hannya, bakeneko, other animal youkai, even some of those odd clog-footed umbrellas, and put a silly spin on the entire ensemble, to work within her similarly nonsensical parameters.

Only, as Happosai bounced towards the doorway, to accompany his students in the waiting cab, he cheerfully winked at her. “Old magic m’girl, old magic, even as I reckon things. Didn’t know you had it in you.” His voice growing fainter as he merrily bounded down the passageway. “You help a poor old man keep spry! If I only were 150 years younger!”
Nabiki barely suppressed the standardised “Poor old man my butt!” and “You’d still be an unsightly midget!” retorts. 
A mirthful “Wise choice m’girl, wise choice!” reached her from the sidewalk.
Yep, she definitely needed to stay away from Cologne.

This left her career spinster big sis, which in some respects represented a much greater problem. Kasumi had always been able to read her like an open book, and frequently seemed to feel obligated to ‘reach and heal other people’s humanity by offering kindness, and gently talking them into seeing reason’. Whatever either diffusely worded abstraction was supposed to signify, beyond trying to force her limiting slave-morality on those who knew better. Meaning: She’d quickly turn into a major squeamish, sanctimonious, sermonising butt-in, predicting any thought-tracks nearly at the same rate Nabiki finished coming up with them, and this time it wouldn’t provide “Ooh, you’re outraged? I’m so scared!” amusement factor, she’d make a few subtle choice remarks here and there for blubber boy and the brat, maybe even give Ranma ‘counselling’, and screw up everything. Miss perfect housewife of the year was thrown off track by the severe
 breach of pattern, but that wouldn’t last long if they remained living together. 
 
Nabiki had been sorely tempted to simply bury her in the backyard, and create a permanent stand-in, just to be done with it. But even if she managed to subdue her bleeding-heart mood-swings to follow through, the image of a food-burning, sailor-swearing ‘Kasumi’, turned frantic and chain-smoking from incarceration with mounting everlasting household chores, promptly shattered any illusions of being able to pull off the mannerisms. More importantly, Happosai would surely notice anyway. The ancient freak of nature was fond of Kasumi due to her consistently treating him with consideration, and as far as Nabiki was aware, very likely the most powerful fighter in existence. He could literally effortlessly crush Ranma like a bug by using a single finger if he ever truly felt motivated, and somehow managed to stay completely focused, which admittedly was an incongruous premise. Or at least she heard that it had been more than enough to stop Taro.

Coincidentally enough the matter was taken out of her hands when Kasumi promptly left for a paid world tour with some of her friends. Apparently they had become well acquainted with a rich, suave medical exchange-student during some part-time university courses. Nabiki didn’t believe in coincidence, even considering that weird happenstance was an everyday occurrence when Ranma was involved, this seemed waaay too convenient to be true. Thank the kami for small favours in any case. 
Urd was ready this time and choked the cough. “Yeah, you’d better thank me.” 

And finally Akane; naive, valiant, defending, friendly, helpful, soft-hearted, self-sacrificing, overachieving, insecure, clumsy, bipolar, temperamental, paranoid, brutish tomboy Akane. Incredibly tough, and probably the bravest person she ever met, but recurrently completely oblivious, or feeling empathetic and obliged to help people who’d gladly kill or sacrifice her in return, and laughably simple to nudge into knots or rampant hysteria, by playing on her compassion or insecurities. 

Oh yes, she’d be a biiiiig problem for sure. The world’s greatest judge of character she definitely wasn’t. Give her the puppy-eyed deer hybrid and sob story knockout combo, and she’d martyr herself in pity and assumed loyalty for her ‘poor, tragic, victimised sister’s unrequited love, and final chance at love and happiness’. Trying to stay out of Ranma’s way and keep quiet, alternately seething with fury depending on how publicly clingy the relationship got, and either starting to cry or giving him a whack with a table whenever he inevitably turned nervous and began to insult her just to provoke a reaction. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt, piece of cake. Besides, somebody had to prepare the food. Ranma considered it unmanly to do so regularly, and strange at it may seem, Akane had actually developed into an acceptable cook with a few select dishes, including curry and tofu. Nabiki herself had extremely limited interest in most
 forms of menial labour, and would rather avoid it whenever possible. 

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Kuonji Ukyo touched down on the ground with feather-like grace. She clapped her hands. “All right, that’s all for today. Let’s review what went wrong this time around.” She was situated in a rather sizeable yard, surrounded by the lush traditional composition of an even more sizeable estate, with the stately manor of a feudal lord discernible a hundred metres distant.
Kuno Tatewaki, the current landlord of the abode, and presently encircled by multiple sharp throwing-spatulas and regular shuriken, swayed up from the ground like a base-rounded boxing tool, somehow instantly fully recovered from his multiple bruises. “Aye, ‘tis a most fortunate inspiration that struck the brilliant virtuoso, for is it not the custom amongst daimyo to employ the shadow-people as ones instruments? Yea, honing his servants is indeed an honourable conduct, to thus assure their safety in gravely undertakings.”
Ukyo whacked him to the head with her jumbo kitchen tool. “Kuno-chan, if you try that crap one more time I’ll beat you up and go home. I’m a businesswoman. I’m getting paid to train you, not the other way around. My ancestors were Iga shinobi of Kansai. I just use a vaguely similar style, and I’m definitely not your servant, got it?”
“Mine apologies fair Ukyo, thy talents are only eclipsed next to yon dazzling beauty. ‘Tis not mine intent to bring thee offence, for the flash of righteousness be a noble lord.”
Ukyo blushed, but gave him another hard whack for good measure, upon which Kuno opted to keep quiet for the time being.

Konatsu apprehensively walked forward and respectfully bowed before the aristocrat. “My apologies for bringing you harm Kuno-sama.”
Kuno grandiosely waved it off. “Nay, for ‘tis fulfilment of duty to thy liege. He is most pleased with thee.”
Ukyo grimaced. “You can’t say that I didn’t warn you.” A scene of violence followed, whereupon she huffed and walked towards the entrance. 

The cross-dressing kunoichi worriedly glanced towards the fallen swordsman. He would never speak out of turn by stating it out loud, but Ukyo-sama had truly improved drastically due to their refining exploration into deeper, purer aspects of her heritage. She had been mostly self-schooled and sincerely thrived from the daily sparring and instruction. Lately Kuno-sama had sort of blended in from the side, since he reasoned that it was just and proper to employ their services, but his style didn’t really change much, or turn more versatile, just improve somewhat in speed, reach and power. Though if he managed to get rid of his self-imposed borders he could truly turn into a force to be reckoned with. Konatsu moved to follow his boss, and hopefully eventual love-interest.

“Hold!”
Konatsu was a bit taken aback. “Huh?”
Kuno was once again fully recovered. “The perceptive falcon hath discerned thy fancy for yon delightful vendor of fine cuisine, and hath resolved to assist thee in thy quest. For ‘tis the duty of a proper lord and samurai to well serve his subjects, and share of his wise guidance, aye e’en to his oath-sworn shadows. Thou shan’t find him lacking in his vigilance.”
Well, Konatsu had mentioned it on a daily basis, but it was awfully nice of a noble like Kuno-sama to take pity on and help him out.
Kuno strode forward. “Wouldst thou heed his hard-earned wisdom? For the venerated guardian of the nine-fold talents has great insights that he will share for benefit of worthy disciples.”
Konatsu eagerly nodded.

Kuno’s eyes glazed for a few minutes… He straightened up. “Foremost among the truths: Shun mad relatives! For these are blights that scheme to pollute thine innards, and court favour with reptiles and sorcerers. Aye, e’en seek to tarnish thine unsullied countenance, and betray a noble lineage of native soil for mere pineapples, farce, and sunshine.”
Konatsu thought that sounded very reasonable, as he certainly didn’t want anything to do with his, and decided to listen further. His generous new friend was evidently well versed in these matters.
“Succeeding maxim: Persistence is of essence, for women are shy creatures and seldom admit their worship, lest unwavering devotion shalt reassure and bring them solace. To claim a sacred trust thou shalt recite florid poetry and lend her thy diary, for thine hidden beliefs shalt surely ascertain thy most epic and heroic nature.”
Konatsu had hoped that the first bit was the case, and was happy to hear it confirmed. It seemed like he was already well on his way to succeeding. He had never thought of poetry, perhaps something about beautiful luxuries like rice-balls, vegetables, and hard bread?
“Third proverb: “Maidenly protests are but hidden longings to probe thy staunch commitment. Endure this test in stately resolve. Pledge thine most gallant esteem and worship through amassed depictions of yon elfin features, and proclaim a gracious honour of seaside courting. Enjoy the fruits as petite sandals touch thy visage in fiery passion.”
Sandals? Konatsu supposed that Kuno-sama meant hands, but decided not to embarrass him with a correction. The first bit seemed somewhat suspect, but he appreciated the thought.
“Fourth dictum: Exhibit thine mastery in the illustrious art. For a consummate champion shalt surely be pervasively favoured by fainting damsels. But see to their delight through playful exhibition, for this shall ascertain that he is not aloof beyond mortal reach.”
Well, it made sense that someone should turn happier from entertainment, and Kuno-sama’s watermelon-slicing trick was pretty neat. If he ever learned to use it without a trigger he would turn scary.
Kuno sighed. “Aye, ‘tis a grave tragedy amongst the greatest of men, to be too much for single ladies. One cannot choose to bring dishonour, for they art lost and empty bereft of patronage. Be glad that thou art but a humble ninja. The trials amongst exalted samurai art arduous indeed.”
That sure did sound difficult, but Konatsu couldn’t relate.
“Fifth decree: But take heed! Never shalt a valiant protector waver in his restraint. Nay, he shan’t strike down yon fairer sex e’en should he be besieged by rocks and lightning. His chivalry must convey an unassailable assurance. When fraught with peril thou shalt be a bastion for fragile maidens, and vanquish any foe to bring them shelter.”
Wow! Kuno-sama was such a gentleman. Konatsu also wanted to be that cool. He could learn a lot here. Though Ukyo-sama didn’t seem particularly helpless.

Kuno scrutinised his addressee for a few seconds. “At first thy lord vows to amend thy mannerisms. For all maidens are won through equivalent panache. Verily, thou shalt be a man amongst men and all of womanhood shall take notice.”

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Ranma had felt very awkward at breakfast and dinner times. During the months since the Jusendo incident Akane had occasionally glanced at him with a delighted… certainty of sorts, at times when she didn’t think he noticed, and beamed whenever he quietly met her eyes, in unspoken assurance. It was like a halo had illuminated the room. 

He no longer managed to hold her gaze for more than a fleeting moment. Striving not to shirk away, but looking sideways and stretching his senses for any distraction in the vicinity. Akane had initially frozen up with a shocked, empty expression, and later demonstratively huffed, illustrated by a twist of her head to the side, but her eyes had lost some of their lustre, and… he felt empty without that sunshine. She had immersed herself completely in her schoolwork and studied like a lunatic for exams, or trained by herself at the other end of the dojo, keeping away from him, except to prepare food, which they ate in silence at opposite ends of the table. If she only could whack him as usual, showed some form of reaction, anything to break the ice. At least she maintained a friendly, outgoing facade in school together with her friends, or as the captain of the volleyball team, but every now and then he noticed little dejected cracks in it.

This was not honourable behaviour. Granted, he usually wasn’t concerned about either behaving like a girlie-girl in public, using disguises, lies and misdirection to make fun of and use others, or cheating to ‘win’ fights where he was severely outmatched. But he had several firm lines he just didn’t like to cross unless he was loosing his judgement from humiliation or desperation. Abusing Akane’s trust was one of them. Still… he didn’t want to hurt her, and Nabiki had said that she would be able to handle it much better than him if he just gave her some time and leeway. Maybe that would give him a chance to patch things up again? He grimaced. Of course it wouldn’t, and Nabiki was a career huckster, an expert at empty promises. He needed to handle this… soon.

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A currently very common sight greeted Nabiki; Ranma lying on his stomach, brooding on the floor, his hands nestled at the back of his head. Under normal circumstances he simply cried and hammered it with his fists for a while, or howled revenge at the moon, and then rose to the challenge of somehow overcoming whoever or whatever had humiliated him. But this was different, not simply a problem he could hit or compete against, and he turned intensely confused from trying to figure out how to handle it. If building an implicit relationship had been severely awkward with continuous foot-in-mouth disease, what about attempting to end it do without sounding like an ‘arrogant insensitive Casanova jerk’, while aggravating the problem and severely hurting Akane? He was decidedly not equipped to sort this out on his own, and was woefully useless to her in his current pitiful state. She needed him as an asset not a detriment. It was up to herself to get him out
 of his funk, and soon. 

(Leaning close towards his ear she looked deep into his eyes, pulled him close towards her bosom and made hushing noises… then softly whispered: “You snivelling little brat. Untangle your panties, grow a set, suck it up, and deal with it.”) 
Nabiki chuckled loudly to herself, hilarious, but no.
Yelling “You quitter! You sad, pathetic, weak little boy! You spoiled child! You whimpering, self-pitying, wallowing, whining, emo, drama-queen, bleeding-heart, indolence- and entitlement-nurturing, swill gobbling, weenie good-for-nothing! You sicken me! You disgust me! You’re a disgrace!” then spit at, deride and slap him until she got a lash-out response probably wouldn’t cut it. Negative reinforcement at times of susceptibility seldom did in the long run, no matter how fun it might have been, but rather greatly acerbated the problems by undermining fundamental self-worth, or what was left of it. Condemn someone unbalanced for being in pain, and the wound would usually only get worse, or at best get channelled into the hollow and desperate, self-destructive form of drive, which could create permanent nervous breakdowns in the long run. It was basic logic. Normally that was strictly a pleasant bonus, and moulded the recipient into even easier
 manoeuvrable prey, and a safe venting resource, but she had to approach this a bit differently. Genuine deep-rooted despair couldn’t be beaten out of people. It had to be replaced with reliable hope, joy, purpose, and self-esteem. From a strictly objectivist standpoint, coaching was a very delicate and jerky balance between carrot and whip, and humans tended to be such wretched, flimsy, and woefully, even repugnantly, worthless and inadequate little creatures, with trivial merit of existing unless extensively proven otherwise. Luckily, she was immeasurably superior to the herd. It was just a matter of embracing advantageous perspectives, and succeeding before they blew up in your face too many times.

“Ryuu called from the academy.”
Ranma didn’t move “Yeah?” his voice a hollow monotone.
“It seems like he’s turned into quite a hotshot. They want him out on the streets and are cramming him through the training.”
“Good for him.” There was still no reaction.
“He said that he wanted to spar with you tomorrow, and that “you’d better help him rust off the techniques” or something. She might have caught a faint flicker of interest, then nothing. 
“I suppose.”
Nabiki paused. (Ok, this is bad.) “How about going on a few dates?”
Ranma looked up to the side. “Huh?”
“You know, like with the probe-bot, but during daytime and without the junkies. Unless you’d prefer to invite them for some rustic charm.” Nabiki afforded him a winning Cheshire smile.
He absentmindedly puffed. “Hhh, that was so bad.”
“And you can do better?”
“Sure, like, like… “ He threw up his arms in exasperation. “Aah! I can’t crack jokes on command! You know that.”
She swapped for a smug smooth fox grin with shut eyelids. “But it made you think of something else. So what about it?”
He stared at her for a few moments. “…I guess, but how would we avoid anyone noticing?”
“You go the rooftop route, I keep a copy here, and meet you undercover outside of Nerima.”

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A young woman was addressing her companion at the bar. She was dressed in a tight white tank top, blue cap and spandex pants, with a popular brand name written in bold vivid letters along the right leg, fingerless net gloves, elegant shoes with thick high heels, and a black leather jacket. Embodying the consummate image of ‘western, dumb, blonde, blue-eyed, leggy, big-busted sex-appeal’ that had seeped into the subconscious bias of Japanese popular culture.
She was heedlessly caught up in a personal monologue. “So, like, there we were, and we were, like, totally drunk, and then there were these guys who were, like rough, but rich and artsy and stuff. And then, like, one of them said I was all hot, and I said dude I totally know, and he wanted to paint me, and I was, like, totally cool with that, but then, like, this friend called, and she had found this really cute Iphone, and…”
Ranma tuned out the prolonged babble, and persisted in sipping his Piña Colada, which had turned out to be far treaclier than he was comfortable consuming as a male. Maybe he should try an “Irish Car Bomb” next time to compensate? 
This was not what he had expected. Meeting his date waiting outside a department store one or two hours ago, going into a large game parlour, competing with some punks in “Dance-Dance Revolution”, followed by ‘real’ dancing at this place. Thankfully the bartender ignored that the ‘20 years old’ at Nabiki’s faked ID looked suspiciously young.
It had been a fun evening all in all. He had enjoyed showing off in both, performing aerial flips and feats of seemingly impossible flexibility, deliberately restraining his speed to a pace the spectators were barely able to follow. There was no point of looking like a blur to an audience. (Who’s the man? Me that’s who!)
“…These, like, totally crazy…”
But he had no idea how Nabiki managed to keep this up. Staying in perfect character the entire evening, and only responding to the name ‘Janine’. He’d been a worrywart and insisted that she’d be careful not to give anything away, but this was ridiculous. (She has to run out of material sooner or later, doesn’t she?)
“…And they were, like, really trashy, like hellooo, but she just doesn’t love herself…”
(Right?) “Look, you can cut it off. You’ve made your point. I get it.”
“…And I tell her that she’s, like, this total whore, and if she ever… Like, what do you mean cutie?”
 “Dump the make-believe and be yourself.”
“Like, who else could I be Tetsuo?”
(Uh-oh) “I’m not named Tetsuo.”
“Are you, like, a stalker or something? Tomiko set me up on a blind date with this, like, totally cool rich martial arts dude.” She looked baffled and a little scared.
“That’s not me. Dammit, I stood her up. She’s going to kill me.” (It figures. Not even Nabiki is that good of an actress)
“So this is, like, a mix-up or something?”
“Phyeah, it seems so. Look, what’s your full name?”
“Janine Sinclair.”
“Saotome Ranma. Do you have somewhere you need to be? I could get you there pretty quick.”
“I, like, like this place… and you’re pretty cute. This Tetsuo dude was probably a total stooge anyway. Tomiko always falls for these douchebag types.” She familiarly played with a few loose strands of his hair and moved closer, just inches from himself. 
He could feel her breath on his cheek. She seemed a bit tipsy. Was it getting hot in here? “Look I really need to go, and you’ve had a bit too much to drink. Can I call for a cab to your hotel or something?” 
“You’re, like, such a gentleman. Will you be gentle with me… alone?” Her pouty lips glistened with perspiration from the dancers surrounding them.
“I… I…” He tried to stammer out a reply, and took a large swig, to gain some composure.
“Bartender! A “Sex on the Beach” with two straws!”
“Splff!” Ranma coughed. His shirt covered in rum mixed with coconut and pineapple juice.
“Ha! Priceless! You should see your face!” His companion gave him a patented fox grin. “You’re still way too uptight. I had you going there for a moment.” She once more motioned for the now intent barkeeper. “Some tissues for my companion please! And bring that order, it’s giving me ideas.” 
Ranma didn’t like Nabiki’s intent gaze. Her irises reflected a bright orange blaze, threatening to devour him. “Extra Vodka. My boyfriend needs to loosen up for our midnight swim.”

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Akane stuffed her sizeable rucksack with change of clothes, some schoolwork, a music player, just in case, a lunch packet consisting of water, fruits and sandwiches, and assorted archaic weaponry, bokken, bow & arrows, katana, her father’s custom-crafted samurai armour from when he was an adolescent... he probably wouldn’t approve, but she could handle him, the sweetheart was terribly devoted to his ‘little girls’… yes that should suffice. (Why does that dummy have to be so difficult? What is wrong? Why doesn’t he say anything? We’ve barely spoken for over a week. Dummy, dummy, dummy.)

She tried to brighten up. It was a weekend, it was the end of spring, she had the entire Sunday ahead of her, she was going to get some proper training in the open countryside, and she’d work out some of her frustrations. Then she could practice the lessons in the dojo at home. Well, with one exception. She didn’t want to destroy it. The repair costs were bad enough already.

It would be nice to see Ryoga again. He was such a kind, dependable, innocent, and protective boy, almost like a little brother always eager for approval, although he tended to get a bit… childish or confused at times, but that awful woman… how could he have let her do that to him? Well, just keep out of her hair and she will keep out of mine, or help her out when she really needs it, and she might turn nicer with time. Those were good rules of thumb, even if some people were… difficult at times. She went out the front door and started springing towards the nearest Shinkansen depot, making a detour to help some children find their way home. Who knew, maybe one of the others would visit as well this time around?

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Another day, another date, this one centred on an air balloon drifting over Tokyo, with a spacious lavish basket, and purchased champagne & strawberries… There seemed to be no end to Nabiki’s versatility. She continued to amaze or frighten him, or some weird mixture of both. He wasn’t at all used to or even comfortable with these kinds of luxuries. It made people soft, and couldn’t compare to the freedom and intensity of the wilderness, even if he had a nice view, but she still managed to drag him around by a noose. He didn’t like that, not at all. He was his own man, not some pet or plaything. She tried to come on to him sliding forward on all four limbs like some cat-snake mixture, while swapping attractive guises in rhythm with every step, and trying to do something, or some things, to arouse his mind and body again. He supposed he should have guessed that the food was intended to be some kind of mood-setting foreplay, but he kept control
 and pushed her away. His will and metabolism control were absolute. He was the great and unconquerable ace wunderkind Saotome Ranma. The guy who always won… well eventually sort of won, even if it was just the final round after being beaten many times in a row, and only through trickery, surprise, distraction, dumb luck, using a specific weak spot, or all of the above, but that didn’t matter. He found a way out of anything, period. 

He hated being used. Screw Nabiki, screw those puppy-dog eyes she used, and screw that ‘lost tormented vulnerable waif’ sob-story bullcrap she kept trying to sell him to get sympathy leverage, preferably accompanied by a very atypical lamentation-fit. “She was a victim of circumstance who was forced to get tough and tried to make do in a harsh world among brutal, powerful, and hypocritical abusive people, and everyone kept judging her terribly unfairly, since nothing whatsoever was the way it seemed.” Shyeah right. She was a callous, calculating, unflappable bitch who profited from that most of them felt honour-bound to never attack normal defenceless people, due to sticking to the stern Giri norms and laws about martial arts in Japanese society. She regularly emptied her father’s account, since he was ridiculously overprotective towards all his ‘little girls’ and would instantly forgive her anything, without so much as a “go to your bed
 without supper”. She had a younger sister who always tried to think the best of her; so stealing most of her stuff, and driving her nuts for fun & profit, was open season. An older that didn’t, but gladly sacrificed herself to take care of all household work, and thought her sister could be talked into ‘being nice’. She was ridiculously popular and spoiled silly by all her ‘boyfriends’-slash-blackmail victims, and stayed on the sidelines while enjoying being untouchable... at least as long as she didn’t piss off Shampoo or Kodachi. Not to mention that the only extraordinary people she grew up around were her father, Akane, Tofu, and Kuno, none of which were the least bit dangerous to her no matter what she did. Her? Suffering? Bullied and neglected? No joy in life? No choice? Self-sacrificing?! Sure, that made tons of sense. He was proud to say that he didn’t budge one inch, not when he was prepared. Well… she might not be entirely
 bad. She had turned into a giant eagle and let him ride on the back. Then made a few more so he could do some acrobatics between them. That was his kind of fun, and cheered him up a lot.

They landed amid some secluded shrubbery in the expansive park surrounding the imperial palace, just outside the border of Nerima. Somehow avoiding any interest from the visitors. This was Tokyo after all; everybody dealt with supernatural creatures, goofy aliens, implausible threats, and just plain wacky happenings on an at least monthly basis, somehow keeping the mundane world running side-by-side with the fantastic. A curiously disappearing air balloon would be nothing in that context. The only things registering would be unseemly social faux pas. Nabiki usually assumed what he supposed was her idea of a attractive, forceful, and sophisticated ‘successful intelligent modern woman’ types, but this time she looked more like a stunning classic Japanese beauty. Bright multi-coloured robes with patterns of birds and flowers, a silly vastly oversized white ceremonial hat with an adorned smaller blue top and two pointy white bristles pointing straight
 upwards, a decorative fan, and bearing like the finest Shogunate feudal lord consort or elite geisha.

She humbly bowed her head. “Shall I bring your lordship fresh grapes and hot towels, dance and play the flute, or engage in stimulating conversation Saotome-sama?” Figures. A basic personal joke about their surroundings and everything she wasn’t. He was catching on a bit further to what made her tick. More importantly, more sloppy clowning around, making up for mostly being so high-strung about public dignity, just to scream a challenge of irreverence to a suffocating society, much like lots of girls in her generation… not that he’d know anything about that of course! What if anybody they knew recognised him? Women!

They walked along one of the typically spotless lanes, eventually coming across a very familiar figure, very engrossed in the scenery, and staring at the palace with reverence. Ranma grimaced. "Oh shit! It's Kuno."
Nabiki kept her cool. "Just keep your big trap shut and he should forget it in 15 minutes."
Kuno had apparently noticed their presence, and indomitably marched towards them, stopped at a distance of about 2 metres and histrionically pointed his wooden sword towards Ranma's head. “Fie knave! Wouldst a base snow monkey frolic amongst flowering Sakura trees? Wouldst the blind groundhog cherish the resplendent glory of the dawn?”
Ranma tried to ‘inconspicuously’ whisper sideways. “He sure likes the sound of his own voice.”
“You have no idea. He's anaesthesia on legs.” Nabiki’s usual sardonic tone was in full effect. (I should have seen this coming. This masquerade is a sure-fire relic-flytrap.)
Kuno unmindfully carried on with his tirade. “Wouldst a common swine soil the raiment of an angel? Wouldst vultures dine with noble falcons?”
Ranma looked slightly perplexed. “Does he have any idea of what he’s talking about?”
“None whatsoever.”
“Wouldst the bat leave his dark and dismal cavern to leech upon the ample bounty of an unspoiled maiden?”
Another murmur to the side “I think he just said that you have a nice rack.”
Nabiki responded with a jaded ‘You don’t say?’ glance.
Kuno dramatically stooped a knee to the pavement, head bowed, with the remaining leg posed right-angled in front, his bokken positioned like a flagpole into the ground, and grasped Nabiki’s hand in his own. “Enchanting vision of endless virtues, I beg thee, leave this low-born cur, and consent to the patronage of thine evermore devoted samurai, for he shalt honour thee with undreamed glories from brightest morrow ‘til dusky twilight. Aye e’en betwixt the moonlit midnight hours shalt thy servant remain e’er vigilant. Thine every fragile womanly tear shalt be soothed and graced by the balm and presence of his noble visage.”
(Ok, that does it.) Nabiki resented male conceit. Female conceit too for that matter, as long as it wasn’t her own.

“My knight, wherefore hast thou forsaken me?” The voice originated from an un-braided wild-haired Ranma-chan, clad in blue shorts over a white tank top, an energetic free spirit, apprehensively biting a fingernail, and with confusion marring her innocent features. “Wouldst thou not share my untamed carefree freedom, and claim me as thine own?”
A picturesque earnest Mariko dressed in a white cheerleader uniform with a pink miniskirt, her hands joined in praying posture. “I offered thee mine heart, wouldst thou trample it into a filthy trench?”
A cute but stern Akane, clothed in a loose gi dyed in cerise and auburn tiger-stripe patterns, with arms crossed over her chest. “Shall we be treated then like humblest geisha, mere courtesans and trollops to be disposed and summoned at the slightest fancy?”
The nonplussed Kuno attempted to recover his composure. “My ladies...”
Akane relentlessly continued. “I say shame on thee! Thou art no samurai of noble lineage. Prove thyself worthy of mine fiery spirit and choose thine affections wisely.”
Kuno froze up, sat down in seiza, arms crossed over his chest, eyes unfocused, tilting his head to one side and then the next. Kneading his brow. Looking back and forth at each of the eager girls standing before him. Crooking his eyebrows, visibly straining in intense concentration, beads of sweat running down his forehead… and promptly collapsed to the ground. 

Nabiki smirked, laughing triumphantly. “Wahaha! …Heh, I always wanted to see that.”
Ranma used a hand to grab hold of Kuno’s hair, raised the head, slapped it a couple of times, noted no response, and unceremoniously let it fall down. “I think he blew a fuse.”
“Well, duh.”
Ranma discarded Kuno upside-down in a vacant dumpster, and they leisurely walked away, quickly disregarding the entire incident.

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Kuno Tatewaki strikingly opened the entrance to the Ucchan’s, strode past a curiously shorthaired and standard waiter-uniformed Konatsu, currently serving some table-seated customers, and sat down by the combined grill and counter. “Lovely Ukyo, I yearn for the scrumptious treats of thy fine establishment!”
Ukyo blushed. She was hardly ever flattered like that. “That will be a house special with extra shrimps as usual then?” Offering a welcoming smile.
“Aye, such feasts art worthy of emperors, nay the finest divine courts!” Kuno proclaimed.

(He’s such a polite boy. A bit melodramatic and overbearing, but manly in an old-school way, and a good tipper too. Why can’t my Ran-chan learn such gallant manners? He’s not even visiting to gobble down my food anymore.) Ukyo placed dough on the grill, and readied some sauce and toppings. (Well, at least he’s still much better than that clueless, cowardly, jackass waste of space Ryoga.) She noticed that her waiter paid a little too much attention. “Konatsu! Don’t slack off or I’ll cut your 10 Yen for this hour!” She leaned forwards. “So is everything all right sugar? You look tired.”
Kuno got a faraway glint in his eyes. “Alas, ’tis most passing strange. Dreams hath dethroned the roar of heaven, and tasked him with a quest. Verily, mayhap he is obliged to neglect thine evening practice.”
(The poor sap loses some grip for every day. I think I caught him blushing when I kicked him in the face yesterday.) “Uh-huh, so what kind of quest is that?” Ukyo probed carefully. 
“A cleansing of spirit to be true of purpose!”
(I hope he doesn’t consider some pilgrimage. He pays good money for sparring.) Ukyo tried to look interested, still smiling affably. “Why don’t you tell me about this dream.”

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Coming up:
Shampoo gives a lecture in the school of hard knocks. The board reads: “Shampoo too-too scary, and very cute! Now we go date, or else!” It is unknown if Ranma ever recovered, or when Nabiki stopped laughing.


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Ball of yarn – The glad sleep swell


“You guys suck!” Ryoga stood surrounded by a mound of torn bedrock, rubble, craters, minor chasms, and speared or carved large boulders stretching in every direction for several hundred metres, collectively creating a remarkably inhospitable area. His brown sweater flaunted multiple lacerations, but revealed no evident scratches or bruising underneath.
Ryuu ripped himself loose from a 2m deep human-shaped mountainside indentation, and shook off the supplementary 5-ton rock positioned in front of his face. “You just got lucky.”
Mu Zhi dug his way out of a 4m diameter wide crater, overflowed with debris. “We shall claim victory the next time!”
“I hope so. Shape up quick, or I’ll lose my form.” Ryoga mumbled, then raised his voice. “You can spar some on your own if you want. I’ll sit down and think.”
“I never conceived hearing such words from a monkey’s lips.” Mu Zhi blurted out.
Ryuu smirked. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

Ryoga ignored them and sat down. He needed decent regular exertion and not just to for the joy of fighting. It could be his only way to get a handle on this mess… Nah, that didn’t even sound convincing to himself, but it would be a start. (Stupid Musk, stupid body, stupid me… Why can’t I hit something to make this go away?) Maybe he should take Ryuu’s offer? It was getting a bit humdrum around here, and it might help a bit. Besides, his unintentional wanderings had limited his career prospects… He felt sad about that. He had enjoyed learning at school.

Mu Zhi was attacking from a distance, with steel talons fastened at his toes and soles allowing for a perpendicular stance towards a 120-degree 30m tall ridge. He unleashed a cluster of thorny black spheres from within his oversized sleeves. “Untold laments of the blowfish!”
Ryuu wisely avoided contact and simply jumped far above the resulting teargas fog. “Gold rope binding soar!” He caught Mousse’s midriff in the lariat and heaved. The latter severed it with a sword swipe, but it produced sufficient momentum to send Ryuu careening towards him. “Fierce Tiger Opening Gates Blow!” 
Mu Zhi was forced to relinquish the advantage of high ground and dexterously spun sideways as the overhang toppled in a rockslide. “Belch of the Orochi!” He blew out a concealing cloud of fire, as Ryuu’s legs launched him right through, as a straightened projectile towards his rival’s predicted position on the ground, arms crooked and fingers primed for attack. 
“Pride of the Fisher-King!” Ryuu plummeted straight into rectangular mesh, each corner laden by an iron sphere, and wrapping itself around him alike to a bola. “Demon-God Big Mad Dance!” As Ryuu spun indistinct air-ripples launched in every direction, instantly shredding the netting.
“Oni’s cudgel!” Mu Zhi was already halfway through an offensive, and struck Ryuu to the face with a large mace, sending the latter careening sideways, while ploughing a lengthy ditch along his path.

Ryuu instantly flipped into an upright stance, and rubbed his sore jaw. “That’s not even a proper special technique! You just want to sound cool!”
Mu Zhi had once again leapt high into his native domain, the air, snorting indifferently, while using his spacious robe and lithe paper-thin massive scythe-blades to decelerate the descent, but largely ignoring the bonds of gravity. “The stratagem worked, did it not? That is all that matters.”
Ryuu took advantage of the distraction, and violently arched his arms to the sides. “Demon-God Assault Bomb!” A few dozen vacuum projectiles released upwards in unison, each capable of cutting through a few metres of solid steel.
“Hail of a thousand sorrows!” The hidden weapons master let loose an even greater torrent of chained or roped blades and bludgeons to meet the transparent void slice barrage in mid-flight, shattering on impact, but dispersing the emptiness through influx of air, or redirecting the conduction routes. Despite this, some reached the intended target, and he markedly grunted from the cuts of the impact.
Regardless, the lion's share of the darts still remained, plunging towards Ryuu. He sprung to meet them head-on, swerving or making a path in-between, but received several scratches, drawing blood along his torso, and a chain found its way around his legs, constraining their movement. He barely managed to break free in time for touchdown, gracelessly landing with a thud and loosing a precious moment of initiative.
Meanwhile Mu Zhi had streamlined his body to descend more rapidly, awaiting Ryuu as he came down. “Guards of the Jade Emperor!” He started spinning, manifesting several dozens terracotta statues fastened in steel wires.

Ryuu was caught in a deadlock, being forced to punch and kick the clay sculptures into pieces, unable to press forward. “You must be the nuttiest opponent I’ve ever had. Half of these aren’t even Chinese, they’re garden gnomes and lucky cats!” He got annoyed and simply blasted Mousse with a mid-strength vacuum blade to the face, toppling the latter over. “Where do you even come up with these things? In the last few hours you’ve tried to stab me with a 3-metre fork, then hit me in the head with a giant saltshaker, and now this? And if you’re going to say “martial arts eat-as-you-go” for the first two, I really don’t want to hear it.”
“Mu Zhi had used the momentum to instantly roll up. He straightened. “These are venerated arts passed down from master to exclusive student.”
“Sure, like that training-potty you used the other day.”
Mu Zhi maintained a proud bearing. “The Middle Kingdom was cultured as your lands were barbarian.”
“Because it’s so useful against Mongol hordes.” Ryuu scoffed, and assumed a squeaky voice. “Please good sir, if you spare me, I’ll give you something for the pressure!”
“It’s better than never coming up with anything on your own!” Mu Zhi snapped.
“Man, are you in for a shock. Fuujin’s Shears!” Ryuu initiated a swift sequence of attacks, which Mousse nonetheless skilfully managed to evade… Except that it didn’t help. He kept on taking damage. “How do you like that? Duck, avoid, whatever, you’re still going down fast!” Every strike or kick complemented by an indistinct vacuum blade, squeezing inwards from the sides, and pressing Mousse backwards while cushioning them with hastily erected, chi-reinforced buckets, shields and frying pans. “I’m coming clooooser... I’m going to get youuu!” Ryuu smirked and readied the Iron Fang Fingers, his strongest, dual-variant, move. It was as good as over.
*Poomf!* “Mist of despondent morrows!” Ryuu instantly spread his arms to disperse the shroud of teargas with an air-quake. It was an old trick that he was wise to, but remained an efficient distraction. “Fire from heaven!” He shrugged off the multiple stings from the rain of explosives falling from above, and quickly focused on the hazy surroundings to give his bizarre foe the trashing he well deserved. “Chime of a new era!” Mu Zhi slammed a giant iron bell on top of Ryuu, and struck it with a two-handed sledgehammer.
“Yooouuu aaaarrrrrrrr sseerrrrriiaaaaaooosssslyyy pppppiisssssnnnnnggggggg mmmeeeee offffff!” Ryuu split the barrier with a “Fierce Tiger Opening Gates Blow”, head still ringing. 

Mu Zhi noiselessly sneaked up from behind, and positioned a fan of five long feather-reminiscent razor blades along his opponent’s throat, each stabilised by a corresponding finger, while his remaining hand pressed a sai against Ryuu’s left shoulder. “My win.”
“Oh! Shampoo?” Ryuu sounded genuinely surprised.
Mu Zhi lost some of his focus. “Eh?”
It was enough respite for Ryuu to twist slightly and place his fingertips next to Mousse’s respective temples. “Mexican stand-off.”
“You’re bluffing! You can’t use the Iron Fang Fingers from that position.”
“Want to try me?” Ryuu smirked.
Mu Zhi’s face stiffened in indignation. “Damn you! It’s a draw then.”
“Heh.” Ryuu walked away from the loosened grip. 
“That was a dirty trick!”
“That’s what they all say. Besides, it’s part of my style, and you’re not one to talk.”

Mu Zhi still sported a disgruntled expression.
Ryuu sneered. “You want to impress her bad huh?”
“I shall! Watch!” Mu Zhi theatrically spread his arms and unleashed over 20 spears into the sky.
The lances fell in a symmetrical circle, each releasing a firework on impact, which travelled 10m upwards and detonated in an alternating display of sparkles and festoons  
The architect looked energised and knit his fist in enthusiasm. “Yes! This will prove my worth to Shampoo!”
Ryuu picked up a sooty paper-strip. “Sure, she must love to be covered in burnt confetti.”
Mu Zhi blanked. “I’ll work on that.”
“Why bother? She basically wants you dead, and you still won’t take the hint.”
“The more she spurns my love the more it grows.” 
“There are some very unflattering words for that.”
“My devotion will touch her heart!” Mu Zhi earnestly retorted.
Ryuu sighed and wearily shook his head. “You’re both pathetic. P-whipped without even getting any. Little kids who are tough in a fight but know nothing. Now me, I keep them on a short leash to show who is boss.”
“If you’re such a Casanova why don’t you show us some girlfriends?” Mu Zhi dubiously remarked.
“I’m not trying. If I really want I can make them swoon, no problem. Just watch.” He raised his head towards the sky. “Eeyy baby! Be a good girl and fetch us some booze!” An unexpected gale on an otherwise windless morning immediately hefted him 20 metres off the ground, flipped and hurled him downwards at far higher pace than normal, while circumventing any attempts for acrobatics. He slammed headfirst into solid rock; making cracks a few metres from the centre.

Mu Zhi gloated. “You sure showed us!”
Ryuu remained balanced upside-down with criss-crossed arms, looking rather grumpy, but otherwise unharmed. “Silly-willy ha-ha! It doesn’t change that you’re a tactless clown.” 
“Or that you’re a callous jerk” the bladesman evenly responded.
Ryuu raised, or perhaps lowered, his eyebrows in indifferent disbelief. “You’re even more myopic than I thought. Cute and cuddly little Shampoo is worse than I’ve ever been.”
“How dare you?!” Mu Zhi trembled with outrage.

Ryoga seemed mostly uninterested, but pushed himself up from the sidelines. “Well, whatever. Let’s try this again.” He bent backwards and uttered something incomprehensible in an atypically shrill tone, vaguely reminiscent of birdsong. “This time you’ll get some help. I need a real workout.”

Akane came into sight from the surrounding woodland, yelling from the distance. “Can I join in?!” 
Ryoga’s face contorted. He did not need this. That kind of precision… to handle 3 elite fighters, while restraining himself against and ensuring the safety of a fourth… but he would shame her if he refused. Doomed if he did, doomed if he didn’t… He eventually beckoned in affirmation. “All right, but be sure to wear your armour, and don’t hold back!” ‘Serious challenges’? That should teach him.

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Shan Pu was not happy. Her husband didn’t visit her at work anymore, and whenever she used her bicycle to rapidly reach him during her breaks or when her delivery-routes brought her to the neighbourhood, he simply evaded any surprise cuddle-attacks and swiftly departed before she even managed to invite him to a date. How dared he ignore her? It didn’t even succeed to provoke silly violent Akane, who simply lightly huffed almost imperceptibly, and continued walking without slowing down, as if she wasn’t of significance, and this time it seemed genuine. Shan Pu was many things, but irrelevant was not one of them. It was time to give her wayward spouse a reminder of that.

She had sneaked into his house in stealthy cat-form to see if she could overhear anything interesting, but never managed to detect him. It was much more desolate than typically, only stupid Akane. Whatever could Ranma see in her when he had a strong beautiful woman like herself? The ugly awkward tomboy could never give him comparable amounts of pleasure and excitement. Shan Pu and husband would have great adventures together, and she would allow him to save her from danger, even if she didn’t need it. Then he would carry her in his arms, and they could make love before the dim light of the stars. She sighed. It would all be so romantic. 

When questioned Akane didn’t admit that anything was out of the ordinary, but it was obvious that she was hiding something. She had never been a good liar. Things would be so much easier if Shan Pu could simply directly kill the woman closest to Ranma. But she had learned enough to see that he would hate her if she did, so she had to wait for a moment when she could blame someone else, at least unless things got desperate like with that wedding she wrecked. Oh, and the sneaky sister was there too, but she wasn’t so important. Ranma didn’t like her at all, and there wasn’t much point in asking, threatening, or paying her for information, not even with some throwaway magic trinket. The information was almost always unreliable, and impossible to see whether she was lying or not. Maybe Shan Pu would simply give her an honest choice to tell the truth or die if nothing else succeeded. Remote-control shiatsu wouldn’t work for anything beyond giving
 her simple instructions to carry out… at least not yet.

Instead she had tried to trace his movements, first by inconspicuous surveillance outside the house, and when that proved fruitless she decided to discreetly shadow him from school, but he was too quick for her, and simply disappeared without a trace. She had hunted down wolves through rural China, tracked Ranma over a continent, and still couldn’t find him!

When Shan Pu had asked great-grandmother for advice, Ke Lun seemed slightly surprised, or maybe just amused, but told her that things may have soured between him and Akane, which could be useful. Perhaps husband had finally seen the depths of his foolishness? That was very inspiring, but why did he have to make poor Shan Pu a victim in this? She had never done such things to him… well maybe a few times. Still, she had been provided with an amulet to completely hide her presence in addition to sensing the similarly concealed, and a potion to greatly increase her speed. Although she had to rest for at least 16 hours afterwards, with strict orders to subsequently make up for all the free time. Now to making some plans.

The following day she once more observed and waited for him from top of Furinkan High School, carrying a small backpack. (The others think that I have no talent. They say the greatest teacher trained me all my life, and I still cannot challenge husband for 3 seconds when he is greatly holding back, and trying not to hurt me. That stupid Mu Zhi is far stronger fighter, because he poses genuine threat, and they will all leave me behind with time. This may be so, but they forget. This is not my strength. Not the asset of most elders. )

As predicted, after swiftly setting off and jumping between a few dozen buildings, he cautiously moved in an irregular zigzag pattern. Sticking to walls, balconies, roofs, alleys while taking care to notice his surroundings, but she thus far had no problem keeping track of him, while he seemed completely unaware of her presence. The reversed roles felt deeply satisfying. (Silly husband, he should know better. I always outsmart him.) She almost lost him when hiding in a few large crowds, but she was a born hunter, the pride of her tribe. She would not fail. 

He ultimately caught up with a fashionable older lady, too fashionable. Shan Pu assumed that she tried to hide being much less attractive than true natural beauties like herself underneath the face-paint and stuffed bra. He chatted a bit with the urbane woman, but didn’t seem very comfortable, hauled her up in his arms and took off, ricocheting upwards between the sides of two minor skyscrapers, and returned to sprinting the rooftop path. That was odd, as far as Shan Pu knew from interacting with these feeble ‘normal’ city-dwellers during her never-ending delivery routes, most of them would be terrified by that kind of experience.

They landed in front of a circus, walking around amongst the animals, training acrobats, jugglers, lion-tamers, strongmen and clowns. Ranma started to show off, juggling with 20 knives and other sharp objects at the same time, doing aerial manoeuvres the mainstays couldn’t possibly match, balancing two elephants on his respective index fingers, but stayed far away from the lions. Shan Pu thought that it seemed a bit too odd to be a date, but still didn’t like that he went out to see other women. They could take advantage of his trusting nature. He took off on his own, leaving the pretentious lady behind.

Well, in any case Shan Pu still had to teach him a good lesson, and have some fun doing so. He was not going to take her lightly. She opened her bag, seizing a handful of very frightened mice and a small thermos, and intercepted him at a safe distance while he took a more leisure pace in a long narrow lane in the outskirts of Nerima. She simultaneously threw both the mice and the enclosed liquid into the air. As it made contact with the rodents an equal amount of tigers landed in their place, quickly panicking as they caught sight of each other, and wildly careened towards the ailurophobe. He shrieked in terror but didn’t have the time to avoid being trampled, twitching on the ground. Instant Toraniichuan: Strike one. 

He eventually came to, more or less, and staggered forwards. At least the incident hadn’t lasted long enough to trigger his Cat-Fist psychosis. 
Shan Pu calmly picked up her cell phone, quickly referenced a long list of neighbourhood streets and selected an appropriate number.
“Hello, Mayu speaking, can I help you?” An overly polite female voice
“Sumo wrestlers take bribes.” A trigger phrase selected because no Japanese would ever utter it. The speaker went quiet. “Panty-thief in pigtail. Outside. Now!”

Ranma tried to calm himself down, but wasn’t succeeding, still shivering in fear, but made an effort to struggle forward, however slowly, although resting would be good. He had made it to the intersection of a more crowded street. “Help police! I recognise him! He always tries to steal my underwear!” 
Huh, why were all those people looking at him? 
“Get him!” A crowd of irate women, suddenly armed with mops, descended on him. “Enemy of all women!” (Ouch.) “We’ll teach you a lesson!” (Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch! Ow!) He jumped above them and sprinted away before he received any further bruising, still followed by the mob. At least it almost made him forget about the giant cats.

“He tried to have his way with me!” Uh-oh, even more people “He took my jewellery!” “He ran out on a tab!” “He painted my house pink!” Ranma and the mob briefly stopped to look in disbelief at the last speaker, then resumed. “He robbed a bank!” “He owns a gun!” “He trips old ladies!” “He let animals out from the zoo!” “He’s a disruptive jaywalker!” “He litters on the streets!” “He doesn’t think the Emperor is divine!” “Who cares?” “He said that Junichiro Koizumi is uncool!” “That traitor!” “He likes Koreans and Chinese!” “He likes women over 24!” “Eew!” “He’s a whale-hugger!” “He provokes Gajira!” “He dropped the bomb on Nagasaki!” “Are you high?” “He stole my savings!” “He stole my baby!” “He stole my wife!” “He stole my wife too!” “No he didn’t, I’m right here!” The horde had now increased to over a hundred people: Strike two.

Shan Pu enjoyed the spectacle, munching on pocky sticks between calls as she went along from a safe distance. Memory-erasing and remote-control acupressure were so useful in combination once she got a handle on it, and fun too, even if it was only usable once per application. First it was mostly to get even with insolent take-out customers, make them behave like chickens in public, be rude to their bosses, come on to women in front of their wives, lose focus in trafficked streets and such, without an inkling of how this came to be. But then she had realised that amassing a network along her entire distribution route could come in quite handy for matters she deemed sufficiently important, and it only took a few extra seconds, of which they would remember nothing. It wasn’t like she cared to any further extent than she had when indifferently reflecting mandrake poison gas on the visiting Nekohanten clientèle. Regrettably the effect was likely too brief
 to efficiently work as alibis for people she’d prefer to get rid of, and it was too uncertain to use brainwashing to get Ranma, even with daily application. Imprinting eggs could work, but would turn him into an uninteresting, weak-spirited, obedient servant, and were too easily reversed. That permanent love-pill had been a much better bet. She had tried to apply it, but now it was lost. She sighed in disappointment.

Still, she didn’t want her husband dead, just humbled. She flung a dagger towards the support of a passing water tank, dousing both Ranma and his pursuers as it fell. 
“Hey, where did that felon go?” Some of them had recovered quickly, and were already wiping away the water clinging to their eyes.
“I’m just a cute little girl caught up in all this! How could you all want to hurt me? You’re awful!” Shan Pu had to admit that female Ranma’s faked tears were convincing.
More people were coming to. “Felon? Where am I anyway?” “No idea, I was reading the newspaper at home, and poof, here I am.” “Strange, that happened to me too, well except for the newspaper.” “Ditto” “Ditto” “Ditto” “Ditto” “Ditto” “Ditto” “Ditto” “Ditto” “Ditto” “Ditto” “Ditto” “Ditto” “Ditto” “Ditto” “Ditto” “Ditto” “Ditto” “Ditto” “Ditto” “Ditto” “Ditto” “Ditto” “Ditto” “Ditto” “Ditto” “Ditto” “Ditto” “You mean that none of you knew that pigtailed guy?” “Who?” “Who?” “Who?” “Who?” “Who?” “Who?” “Who?” “Who?” “Who?” “Who?” “Who?” “Who?” “Who?” “Who?” “Who?” “Who?” “Who?” “Who?” “Who?” “Who?” “Who?” “Who?” “Who?” “Who?” “Who?” “Who?” 
The crowd dispersed, most of them muttering irritably. “Well, thanks a lot for wasting all of our time!” “I missed my favourite show for this!” “That’s what I get for being an upright citizen!” “No good deed goes unpunished!” Unfortunately Ranma had been confused and crammed enough for Shampoo to hide in the crowd and sneak up on him-her, whatever.

Shan Pu used a just pick-pocketed mobile phone to call another number. She cleared her throat and focused. “Hello police? I found poor vagrant. Triads brought to use as prostitute, but escaped. Just child. Maybe raped. Collapsed in street. Yes, address here…” Modulating her voice to the perfect likeness of an alarmed older woman. She didn’t really have much trouble using personal pronouns. She had plenty of times in the past and understood Japanese fluently, even if she preferred, and found it easier to use concise communication. She also liked to sound cute. It helped to trap husbands, made others underestimate her, and felt fun, attractive, and free.

Ranma woke up. (Where am I? For that matter, who am I?) Several large arms had hefted her up. Police officers, at least she remembered that. “Don’t be afraid. We will take you to the precinct and give you some food and rest. Then you can tell us all about it. We’ll get those bastards.” Ranma felt compelled to quietly go along: Strike three.

Half an hour afterwards Ranma was once more on his way home. Luckily she had spilled some Darjeeling tea, which instantly shook off the confusion, and inconspicuously snuck out of the room before he was dragged into even greater complications. He felt a bit bad about ditching the nice officers without an explanation, but really wanted to avoid any potential impeachments or questions he couldn’t properly answer.

“It could just be me, but I think Shampoo may suspect something.” He mumbled
“Obviously.” Nabiki’s distinctive sarcastic intonation appeared out of nowhere.
Ranma suspiciously looked around. “Are you spying on me?”
“Come on, why the surprise? Did you really think I’m that sloppy? I need to keep tabs somehow.”
“Where are you?”
“You don’t want to know.”
Ranma stiffened.
“Nice buttocks by the way.”
Then jerked in alarm. “You said that you wouldn’t do that!”
“Oh, chill out. Your braid-lace is a counterfeit. Now listen.”

Shan Pu observed as her husband made his way to a minor theatre, met the woman from before, and went inside. She turned into a cat and stalked him from the roof beams above, to an assembly hall filled with older women and little girls. The stage was rigged with various ropes and contraptions. It certainly didn’t seem like they were here for karaoke. Ranma bowed before them and started repeating some of his acts from the circus. Juggling with several sharp objects in one hand while simultaneously walking a thin rope. Alternately doing advanced acrobatics while balancing heavy weights on his head and fingers, flawlessly throwing knives along the outline of his female companion, during a one-hand stand while wearing a blindfold. Some stage-magic with the woman disappearing or being sawed into two, but that wasn’t very interesting. The show took a little over than half an hour. He bowed again to general applause, and the audience left the room. The lady
 handed him a suspiciously low sum and then left. Shan Pu sighed. Husband truly was too gullible, but it was useful too, so she would charitably forgive him. 

Ranma sighed. Did that cut it? Was it sufficiently convincing? A stream of water drenched him from above. His clothes were suddenly entirely too large. A large creature picked him up in a clawed paw and placed him between its teeth. He recognised that smell, it was a ca-ca-ca-ca-. He couldn’t even say it. The pink feline spat out the fiercely squirming rodent just before it set him off, and slinked away, satisfied that she had made her point. It was acceptable if husband wanted to make some money, but not to treat her without respect: Strike four.

Nabiki appeared in the place of his now loosened boxers.
Ranma briefly forgot his predicament. (I knew it!)
She unmindfully soaked him with some hot tea water.
He looked horrified. “She’s giving me the chills. She really is.”
Nabiki shook her head, but made an effort not to laugh in his face. “Oh don’t be such a baby. You’re fine now aren’t you, and instant curses only work once, right? She can never use the same trick on you again.”
Given the circumstances, Ranma couldn’t help feeling like a small crippled animal, unhurriedly lobbed around by two bored predatory cats, as they were playing with their food. “Do you think she’s satisfied?”
Nabiki displayed a smug grin. “Ohhhhh yeah. She got her pound of flesh and then some. Allow her to connect with some ambush-hugs from here onwards and she should be fine. Just make sure to protest as usual to keep up appearances.”
“Couldn’t we have done this some other way? That last bit was horrible.” 
 “Well, it was either this or spreading nastier rumours to counter.”
“Like what?”
“That you’re way into debt and making a living as a male escort.”
“Hey!”

Shan Pu found Mu Zhi waiting for her, blocking the entrance to the Nekohanten, solemn seriousness mixed with that usual eager and needy expression she found so annoying, but there was more steel in his eyes than she was used to. (Aiya, what now?)
Mu Zhi put his left forearm to his chest, and swept the other sideways in a grandiose arc. “I challenge you to a formal contest.”
Shan Pu blinked, but replied in flawless Chinese. “This is very sudden. You do realise that winning has no relevance, right? I rejected your proposal as a child. This still holds true by our laws and customs.”
“I am aware of this, but you only find men far stronger than yourself as appealing, and while situated in this country you have seemed free to choose in this regard. I have been convinced to prove my worth through ritual combat, and am now confident to do so without imperilling your person.”
(Without hurting me? Arrogant male, remember whom you are addressing!) She offered a serene smile with closed eyes. “I see. Mu Zhi is a much greater man than I thought. “Solemn Will” is indeed a fitting designation. Wait here.”

She ran into the store and quickly returned, carrying a huge cake, still smiling. “It is a gift to celebrate our future happiness.”
Mu Zhi wept in touched fervour, and accepted the cake into his hands. “Oh Shampoo! You finally understand!” It exploded in his face with great force, covering him in gunpowder and custard cream. Taken by complete surprise he instantly fell over, but remained conscious as he lay in the resulting smoking crater.
“Game over. Shampoo win.” Shan Pu had switched to Japanese, as if to imply that he was unworthy to be properly addressed. “Stupid Mousse. I already know you is stronger, but no matter. You is too stupid, too-too annoying, not strong as Ranma, and sounds as broken record. Mousse make me sick! Always try ruin Shampoo happiness!  Should die for foolish behaviour, but Shampoo would have do all chores alone. Go jump cursed springs!” She was sure he would recover in a few seconds, but didn’t offer the chance to continue, and simply walked past the entrance, leaving him with unquestionable finality.

Shampoo felt very satisfied with herself as she went to her well-earned necessary rest, despite having to work harder for a while to make up for all the free time. Let the others underestimate her because she wasn’t as strong in childish battle-plays. She was a warrior unencumbered by convoluted silliness of ‘civilisation’. As if the legacy of her 3000-year-old tribe wouldn’t outlast it, as it always had with other empires. People here were so deluded that they thought mercy made them ‘strong’. They needed to say ‘evil’ as excuse to kill, or they couldn’t sleep. Dumb culture. Why bother? It’s all the same. Just kill, and sleep well anyway. If you wish to get something, your only responsibility is to remove all obstacles as swiftly and cleanly as possible. She longed for the direct and honest values she was used to, but had to admit that this city was more interesting and diverse, and she had turned rather fond of fighting videogames.

She murmured to herself. (I am clever, and they are not. I can plan and they cannot. I can track my prey across the world. I can use and protect against magic herbs. I can name artefacts and learn to make potions. I can use shiatsu to make them happily walk into death, or forget anything, even if only for a while. I can make much mischief, even when just for fun. They may be far stronger. It is not important. I am far more dangerous.) She drifted off into the tranquil slumber of the blameless. 

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Coming up:
Ranma settles at following Nabiki’s leash, although he stubbornly refuses to learn any tricks. Konatsu follows the teachings of a curious guru. Ryoga would like a contract renegotiation about that stalker-nanny.


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Persona non kata: A change of meme?


Yet, another day at the office, or more specifically acting as a brute force, first line of defence, storm-trooper, circumventing yet another doomsday sect on the verge of releasing gas into the Shinkansen subway tunnels. This one was led by a bald, white-robed, hellfire & brimstone enthusiast, or more specifically, a consummate sadist addicted to self-righteous, hypocritically blindsided, genocidal eternal torture fantasies, labelling himself good because of it, and stressing the weight of his convictions by speaking in faux-archaic language, akin to reciting 100% verifiable, non-tampered, heavenly scripture.

The gas was engineered to contain an ingenious, extremely infectious mind-eating virus, designed to continuously affect specific portions of the brain in regulated dosages, theoretically adjusting humanity into simplistic semi-lobotomised automatons. According to the precognition- and statistical probability analysis guys, it would have infected most of Tokyo’s millions of citizens within days unless somebody had devised a cure in record time. And being one of the three greatest industrial metropolises on Earth, with tens of thousands of back-and-forth business- or combined pleasure-/methodology surveillance-trips handled every day; the rest of the world would soon follow. 

Kumon Ryuu was satisfied, the job was turning out to be everything he had hoped it would be, and given his metabolism he was even allowed to drink on duty. Inflexible regulations would never work for such a diversified assemblage. Still, he supposed that the nut-job might have had a few points if he wasn’t so unbelievably indiscriminate. There were plenty people so wholeheartedly over-the-top malicious that they deserved anything that came down on them, and needed to be put down if they gathered enough courage to act on it. That certainly got hammered home at times. 

Hitomi was in the process of taking one of the captured members to task about the to her mind-boggling inconsistencies with sacrificing the blameless, and circumventing free will.
He reacted quite well to the shown interest, and smiled in a relaxed and gracious manner. “You misunderstand. I do not personally see the Scripture’s message as ‘being nice’ to others. As humans, being what some might label ‘hateful bastards’ is an intrinsic part of our nature. It is fully acceptable as long as you believe in the Saviour’s deliverance. This will simply make the populace more receptive to embrace him.”
He stabbed a pencil through the temple of the associate seated next to him, who promptly fell to the floor in a pool of his own blood. “DearLordblessandforgivemeformysinsAmen! …See? And regardless if you strike us low from our sacred task, all upheaval and dismay will ultimately benefit our cause, as the lambs turn to faith to gain refuge from any wolves at the door. Whether through shame, terror, self-denial, asceticism, self-harm, compulsion, epileptic delirium, justifications, or inquisition, pay allegiance or get your soul kicked in.”

Hitomi looked over and mentally cauterised the fallen man’s wounds. “I see. You twist any balm, hope, appreciation, ethics, delight, faith, tranquillity, wonder and grace until nothing save emptiness and psychological torture remains, to harvest only the darkest, least spiritual aspects, all-encompassing terror, cruelty, constipation, and governance. To make your victims quake in dread, doubt, self-hate, deprivation, and submission to rigid, emotionally stunting, unnerving ritualism, rather than enjoy the beauty surrounding us and embrace the truly heavenly ethereal. At best virtue for all the wrong reasons, and you somehow take pride in this. For what it is worth, you are not going to benefit during the larger part of your remaining material life.”

As the leader was dragged away he decided to make a speech to his flock. “Infidels who walk across the dark mists! Be not of false cheer! Yea, for the coming apocalypse shall turn the vapours into choking acid, and leave only the virtuous to walk amidst the earthly kingdoms! For ye know not the thousand-fold agonies and torments that ye shalt suffer! Oh how ye shalt suffer, as righteous retribution strikes ye low for the audacity to oppose m… His will! For the most resourceful earthly tortures suffice nothing beside heavenly retribution!” He displayed a feverish, ecstatic smile. Some drool was escaping from his lips, as he salivated in anticipation. 
“Our salvation is at hand, as ye sinners shall know so well come the final day! Praise his design, and retribution for m…our martyrdom! Reckoning shall arrive!”
“YAAAYY!” The group began to rhythmically pump their right arms into the air, with the left counterparts at each other’s shoulders, as they were joyfully led away in a seamless procession. ? “To final day we go… to final day we go… Yay, yay, a merry-o, to final day we go...” ?

Ryuu took a final swig of beer and stood up from the subway platform bench. Too bad that it wouldn’t induce short-term amnesia. Ah well, no time to rest. He had to help Taikio chase off that giant lizard which kept attacking the city before it reached the borders. It really should have learned not to mess with them by now, but “just being a simple beast, irresponsible for its actions” was the reason Taikio was unwilling to simply let him kill it in the first place.
“ESP Ho! Let’s do some damage baby! Rip out the heart of that n00b sucker!”
“Shut up Hayato.”

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Ranma was walking on a trail alongside the shore of a small round lake, observing the vista to his left. It was a fresh Sunday morning. Saturated, humid air condensing into vapour over the water, as the surrounding larch trees glistening with dewdrops in the early sunlight. To his right he was accompanied by what appeared to be a neat and relatively tall young blonde businesswoman with trimmed level hair. A matching elegant carmine skirt-suit and jacket, white shirt underneath, brown leather trench coat, and thin straight sunglasses with golden frames. He’d been told they were all “carefully selected from the Christian Dior collection”, but had no eye for such things. His wardrobe mostly consisted of red Chinese sweatshirts, accompanied by loose black sweatpants, and didn’t get why she hadn’t used more casual wear for a voyage in a canoe, even if he did the paddling. Although she didn’t exactly have to worry about cloth stains. She currently
 seemed extremely preoccupied with chewing on a takoyaki-stick and pointedly observing the surrounding forest. 

He wasn’t exactly informed, but didn’t think this was quite the way dating was supposed to be done. After some prodding, Nabiki had agreed to behave ‘conventionally’, but still awaited him under wildly divergent ethnicity, clothing, and outward characteristics. She seemed to think it was all fun and games, without caring that she stuck out in an almost homogeneous unassuming crowd of Japanese. Sure, this was not conspicuous at all. No worries! Moreover, going by his admittedly limited experience with women, when they pointed at an advertisement poster for lingerie, movies, or music, and said “Do you like that girl?” they really meant “Answer no or you’re dead!” Not “Oh goody, I sure hope so!” and look like an improved edition at first opportunity. This was all very perplexing.

At least they had mostly managed to avoid any serious incidents except for that *shudder* Shampoo debacle. Well, there were those teenaged malformed ninja kappa that just collapsed when the water on their heads fell off. Launching simultaneous vertical flying kicks had not been a good idea. And Tojo, the Hirohito-quoting kamikaze T-Rex, wearing a white headband imprinted with the red Japanese sun crest, and trying to “reinstate the glory of the empire”… by smashing several McDonalds junk food joints… Those T-Rex lunatics seemed quite common of late. Maybe there was a breeding farm somewhere? Nabiki had turned into a near-copy and convinced it that the best way to “honour the legacy of the emperor” was to “keep vigilance at the eastern border” to make it go away, or more specifically, swim to Shikoku and look at the sea all day. Or those weird martial artists, agents, or something, that kept attacking him with giant origami… don’t ask,
 though they turned tail when it started to rain, and that ‘sort of seal-like’ freak in the pool that wanted him to have brunch with tea underwater… Nabiki gave it a ‘friend’ long enough to ditch the place. She was pretty handy to have around, even if it turned a bit slow when he didn’t get to hit anything… And no, those genetically modified “Vegetable Liberation Front” killer-tomatoes didn’t count. “Ketchup Liberation Front” was more like it after a steamroller ran them over. The dumbest yet had been a little bipolar lava monster that was depressed because it couldn’t find anywhere to build a snowman, and cried tears of flame… in the middle of a major intersection. Presto, and a giant albatross carried it towards the top of Mount Asahi in Hokkaido, keeping it aloft with thick iron wires. But that was just business as usual.

Mostly they were either clubbing, having dinner, going to the movies, concerts, brief cruises with anything from personally manufactured yachts and sailing ships, to rowboat jaunts like the one they just finished, or sports competitions… Even if he thought all of those guys sucked, and that he could do much better. Nabiki had simply stated “Yes you could, so why don’t you?” one day. He had no good answer to that, but guessed that it simply ‘wasn’t him’ to start doing baseball, or football and stuff, and it felt like he violated some unspoken rule about the kind of people that were supposed to enter. He was a professional martial virtuoso who lived for his art, and that was that. But she wouldn’t let the matter go, insisting that he should dump his ambitions to immerse himself in his ‘hobby’ and simply deal full-time with becoming some big-ass action movie superstar, and showman entertainer. She talked about “reinventing himself”
 and “listing his assets” to “view him in a pattern as a marketable product”, but… wouldn’t that make him into something or somebody else? Like he wasn’t him anymore and just went through motions or something? Wasn’t he supposed to be a kick-ass gung-ho adventurer, who would become the master of a new school of fighting, and protect the defenceless from monsters and stuff? It was what he enjoyed doing.

Still, he supposed Nabiki had a point that some performances might help the school. She had pestered him enough about “compensating for all her generous expenses” to make him take part in some “Fighting in the streets” contest, which didn’t make much sense to him. Didn’t they all usually fight on the streets? Why was it necessary to spell it out? Still, the fighters had only been a tiny bit above normal human level with a few chi tricks that generally just made a bit more damage than their regular kicks, though some of their combos tickled a little, if he allowed them to connect. He finally got fed up and challenged all of them together in a gang-up battle. It was over in less than 20 seconds. Boooring! Though it gave him some good money, which was kind of nice. He had never had any before, but apparently Nabiki had made him sign a legally binding contract giving her 95% of the earnings “since that was the standard fee for a good agent”.
 He vaguely recalled that it may have been the other way around, but tried to enlist in a “Virtual fight” counterpart while deciding to be more careful next time. It had a name that made even less sense, the fighting was real as far as he was concerned, but found out that he was banned “due to unfair cheating”. Bull. Then he tried with “Furious fatalities”, still no go. “Living or dead”, which didn’t even have any ghouls or zombies! And they mostly wanted to play volleyball, but that kind of combination was pretty common by his standards. “Token”, finally a designation that did make sense with all these mostly identical fighting-circuits. He even had a hard time keeping track of their names. It seemed like his reputation preceded him for all of them. Wimps and cheapskates! That pretty cool, if a bit faggy looking, Bogart guy mentioned another really high-stakes one that supposedly had a minor storm deity participating. Now that
 sounded interesting, but Ranma couldn’t find it and apparently there were no price money involved, though that was much less important. 

Phff! That’s the problem with being too damn good: You end up with almost nobody in your own class. He was beginning to miss Ryoga, even Happosai to some degree, which was a sure-fire bad sign. He needed a real challenge, and not even Genma was around to spar with. Ryuu had suddenly been “too busy” to bother with him the few times he managed to get in touch, and Mousse was working extra hours as the Nekohanten grew more popular, or at least that was the excuse he cared to offer. It wasn’t like he used to be particularly helpful. Cologne might… no, very, very bad idea to get her involved in this mess.

Nabiki glanced at the mist to her left. She had to admit that it was a nice morning, with all the required Bambi elements except the snugly animals. It was just a shame that such an obstinate, infuriating blotch was spoiling her view. She had tried to work with him, fooled around, partied, acted harmless, tried to win pity-points with sincere weepy deer eyes, inane sob-stories, faked outbursts and snivelling episodes, stroked his ego, been seductively ingratiating, given a mental nudge here, a verbal insinuation there. Attempted to find some emotional resonance or leverage she could evoke to make him see things her way, or install subliminal commands during moments of intimacy, but it was like trying to budge a mountain, generally enjoyable yes, but ultimately fruitless. He had conscious control of his entire metabolism, and had adapted his defences. She already had him in an unbreakable leash, but couldn’t condition him to do any tricks!

To earn some goodwill she even, very reluctantly, agreed to let a part of herself handle all the housework, to “not cause Akane any more trouble”, despite that she experienced a very palpable itch from the double’s consistent exasperation. All to no avail, except for those stupid tournaments, but that didn’t work out. 

She wanted The Big Time and she wanted it now! To indulge in every lavish whim she could come up with. To be so huge that she could openly sell “buy an Uzi, get free crack and cigarettes” packets to third world child militias, finance perfume testing in the eyes of millions of baby seals, personally host an upbeat live-feed suicide watch show, perhaps even fund and advocate absolutist hate-monger groupies, just to shake up the status quo, and be universally beloved and supported for all of it. Worshipped and emulated for every monumental Fuck You she deigned to heap upon the wretches. Not that she currently found any of these things either profitable, diverting, or remotely worth the risks involved, but that wasn’t the point! She was the diva and the world should be her bitch. It was the natural order of things. Why couldn’t she make him understand that? More to the point, why couldn’t she understand that? It seemed a bit hackneyed and tired of
 late. Perhaps her ‘squeamish times of the day’ had worn her down from fighting them down all the time? And to think that most girls only had to deal with periods! She gave it some serious consideration. No, that wasn’t it.

Well, never mind if her layabout ‘partner’ didn’t want to apply himself, or if she couldn’t force herself to push significantly beyond the boundaries of society, strictly set up to herd the sheep into patterns. She was still better off than she used to. She currently had all her days free, while assigning simulacrums to respectively each study one of her subjects, and integrated the knowledge when she reassembled. She had also set up a small ‘agency’, with an ad listing “Models, stuntwomen, teenage idols and actresses for hire! Specialising in finding whatever look you want to market!” to get some fuck-you level money for several elite educations. While she had not received any offers yet, she was sure that one hit was all she needed for word of mouth to propel her like a rocket. Ranma had taken exception to ‘cheating’ to "steal jobs from honest people". She disputed the claim by rationalising that there was nothing ‘honest’ about
 the music, movie or modelling industry, and that digital idols, actresses and music were already commonplace. This was simply the natural progression of absolute superficiality. He had no argument to counter that, and, thankfully, neither had Nabiki herself.

She was also considering setting up some magic shows or other entertainment events, including those ever-popular TV robot battles, but couldn’t think of how to get away without technical inspection. She would very much prefer if she could simply market Ranma as some international attraction, and stage bouts with several personally crafted ‘opponents’. It would be more straightforward, at least for the time being. As soon as she was out of danger from exposure, she’d simply come clear and set up a one-woman special effects studio. When Ranma, with severe coaching from herself, managed to barely graduate, she’d drag him abroad, away from his demented but entertaining little friends and good riddance. Let him set up his stupid dojo somewhere else to keep him docile, and methodically market it whether he wanted or not. The world would soon turn into an oyster of options and opportunities to effortlessly play around with. No major decisions
 necessary. Just do all of it! Fun, games, and prestige, extravagant decadent luxury, great sex, no stress, no aging, and no bother! It was like a big weight had been unburdened from her shoulders. She lightened up. (Yes, that makes sense! I haven’t lost to that ‘inner bodhisattva’. So what if I can’t quite do whatever the fuck I want? I don’t need to!)

“I’ve told you to leave me alone!” A seemingly panicked Ryoga suddenly careened past at full throttle, unconsciously mowing down any trees in his path, matched pace by pace by a statuesque floating woman, gracefully hovering in a motionless upright stance, arms crossed under exquisite sweeping white ceremonial robes, with serenely closed eyes, rose-tinted chalky hair, fashioned into a bun affixed by dual pins, and loose sapphire braids flowing freely on the sides.
Ryoga promptly ran straight through a… formerly, thick stone palisade 500 metres away, separating the lake from a neighbouring mansion, and disappeared out of sight. The entire incident only lasted a few seconds.
Nabiki carefully raised a meticulously pruned eyebrow, an impeccable movement she took pride in, as very few had the poise and flair to carry it off. “Well, that was odd.”
Ranma held a hand over his eyes to block out the sun, vainly trying to catch Ryoga reappearing somewhere. “It seemed pretty normal to me, but that lady looked awfully familiar.”

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Konatsu was confused. He had followed Kuno-sama’s instructions to the letter. He had shortened his hair, even though his scalp had turned uncomfortably chilly (though it was less cumbersome for fighting); Begun to use the kendo outfits and servant uniforms his new benefactor had brought him to look stylish or befitting his station (which was awfully nice of him since Konatsu had previously possessed only his one kunoichi outfit, waitress kimono, and the festive carnival uniform Akane-sama had given him); Glued strands of hair to his chest to look manly, walked in a bolder upright manner, stopped using lipstick, and so on, but it curiously wasn’t as successful as they hoped. Ukyo-sama took more notice of him but not in a particularly adoring manner. She mostly yelled at him as usual.

Kuno-sama was very wise. He had told Konatsu that outward manliness was merely the first step, and one must ascertain it in behaviour as well. Thus he had first tried being valiant and chivalrous to protect innocent ladies from harm, but Ukyo-sama just whacked him on the head when he carried her in his arms to leap over dangerously trafficked streets. He had begun keeping surveillance against potential threats, but she threw mini-spatulas at him when he clung to the roof above her head. When he started to let her win during sparring-sessions she just got mad, and complained that she couldn’t learn anything that way. He supposed she had a point, and let go of that aspect. Even somebody as experienced as Kuno-sama might be very occasionally mistaken.
 
The third step was to show one’s amorous intentions. 
“Thousand eyes of the ebon mist!” He had taken photographs: “I’m working here!”
“Florid verse of summer birdcalls!” Recited poetry: “I’m in the shower! Leave me alone!”
“Tender voyage of crimson leaves!” Invited her to dates: “With what money? You don’t have any.” 
“True declaration manifest!” Exchanged diaries where he had written, “I love Ukyo” from corner to corner: “Stop embarrassing me!” Whack! Whack! Whack!
“Eight fists of virtue!” Shown off with his 4-body-split ninjutsu technique: “Hmm… that’s pretty useful.” At least he made Ukyo-sama happy by doing many chores at once, and now he earned a whopping 20Yen an hour.

Although Konatsu still had faith. Kuno-sama had said that it was all about persistence, so women would be given time to eventually come out of their inherent shyness. He was fiercely determined to succeed.

Lately she had told him to discreetly follow Ranma-sama, while leaving a spare body behind to train and help her with the restaurant. She didn’t have time herself, but wanted information of anything unusual. It wasn’t particularly nice to spy on people, but Konatsu was sure she wouldn’t ask him if it weren’t completely harmless. Maybe she wanted to find a lost friend or something like that? He was sure Ranma-sama would understand, but the latter was very hard to keep track of, even for a supposedly genius kunoichi. Dividing the task in 3 sure helped for that. The few times he succeeded, Konatsu caught something unusual about the aura of some people Ranma-sama encountered, although they didn’t seem to do anything strange, so he probably shouldn’t encumber Ukyo-sama unless it was necessary.

Everyone was so nice to him around here. He had been given a lunch packet with 5 whole crispbreads, 2 apples, and a full thermos of water. Ukyo-sama was incarnated perfection, wisdom and grace, a goddess who had given her blessing to a poor wretch like him. He was so happy to be of help to her. 

Konatsu woke up from his musings as he noticed a crowd of pigeons circling around his backpack. “That’s my food! Give that back!” Oh no, just 3 breads left now, and Ukyo-sama herself had bought them for him. She would have been so disappointed. He quickly ate them all to be on the safe side.

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A Japanese crane softly descended towards a sizeable secluded clearing, a peculiar spot of absolute desolation in an area of thriving plantation vegetation and open meadows. Seemingly unbothered by its absence from the wetlands of Kushiro, it effected a smooth landing, faded from view, and a small ginger vixen silently made its way outward, keeping close to the edge of the forest, while attentively inspecting the conjoining pastures in back of concealing bamboo bushes. (I'm going to save a killing on travel fares.)

Nabiki had never been one to let her curiosity go dissatisfied, even if Ranma wouldn’t accompany her. “Ryoga will rip my head off if he finds out I’m cheating on Akane” as he so succinctly put it. 
Akari’s pig-farm had several unusual qualities, not the least of which being that she didn’t sell bacon. She bred the boars into giants and trained them to perform public sumo matches. Somehow she also avoided being lynched for trampling all over her country’s most sacrosanct unifying tradition and national sport. Perhaps it had to do with the girl herself? She was sickeningly sweet to the point that nobody could possibly suspect disruptive or malicious motivation. Her family had also been in the business for generations, which had allowed them to get established as earnest if eccentric. They must have done at least reasonably well to sustain such a large estate in the near vicinity of Tokyo, considering the capital’s living space rates. Foolishly conservative too, given that they could have sold it off for a very substantial sum, and lived like kings instead of maintaining some fringe-level showbiz game. Unwavering loyalty towards lesser
 animals, what a concept…

As Nabiki sneaked closer to the homestead she was greeted by soft, flawless flute tones carried over the open pasture, accompanied by a voice like a daffodil, ever rising in an aria composed of interlocking vowels, as the singer imparted it with every ounce of ardour she could muster. 
Nabiki inquisitively raised her ears to full attention. Utilising her much improved hearing and intuitive triangulation to pinpoint the source, and crept as close to the vicinity as she dared, subtly adjusted to the hunting eyes of a falcon, and peered out towards the field, surveying it to locate the misplaced soprano.

A little more than a hundred metres away there was a small grove of flourishing Sato Zakura trees. Amidst them, enclosed by a swirling spiral pattern of cherry blossoms, hovered the majestic apparition from yesterday, face fixed towards the heavens, leisurely performing a smooth air-ballet in seamless pace with the drifting flowers, and unfolded ornamented fans in the palms of her hands. A golden Chinese flute poised atop the left, held as an unreserved offer to the open skies and kept in fixed position even as airstreams played between the cavities, yielding crystal tones in harmonisation with every melodious beat of her voice.
(I already hate this gal.) Nabiki narrowed her gaze from the rather stunning spectacle, and fixed on the visage of the regal woman for future reference. Half-lidded eyes evenly stared right back, boundless sapphire wells somehow evoking the image of a great dragon spanning the horizon, and coiled before a cowering rabbit. Nabiki shuddered as a chill went down her spine, but fear was quickly substituted by fury. (So you want dragons huh? Well, two can play that game. Be careful what you wish for!) She skimmed through a few concepts while building up her concentration. (Why must I feel unwarranted resentment towards those who have done me no harm? Oh, go back to sleep! …Well, whatever. It’s not productive to get too hotheaded.)

“Who’s there!?” Ryoga’s hoarse baritone voice
A 4m-diameter boulder landed with a loud thud just a few feet from her position. (Yipes!) The petite fox nervously jumped a few centimetres into the air in reaction to the impact.
Stealth was apparently completely out of the question, so against her better judgement Nabiki discarded her camouflage and warily stepped out into the open, while waving her arms and shouting. “It’s just me, Nabiki, Akane’s sister!”
Ryoga somehow managed to quickly make his way to meet her. He looked mortified, and profusely kow-towed towards the ground. “I’m really sorry! It really felt like a huge monster. I don’t know what came over me.”
(All the common sense of a brick wall… how characteristic.) Despite what she had told Ranma, Nabiki actually tolerated Ryoga, which generally was as close as she came to appreciating anybody. He was properly deferential, assembled lots of tasty treats, pastries, local specialities and souvenirs from all over Japan, even the world one or two times, and regularly brought them as gifts to the Tendo home, without her having to exert herself in the slightest. Well, technically they were intended for Akane, but Nabiki usually ended up eating the main share. In Ryoga’s simplistic world-view ‘ordinary’ girls could do no wrong per definition, and were occasionally awarded status as wholesome idols of perfection, to be relentlessly guarded from any real or imagined threat, and instantly forgiven any transgression… Well, he and Ukyo essentially loathed each other, but she wasn’t ‘ordinary’ by any stretch. His courtesy, naivete, shyness, perpetual
 confusion, and transparent, heartfelt personality made him pretty risk-free, relaxing, and amusing to be around all in all, although Ranma might disagree on the first two points. 

Ryoga’s bandanna suddenly commenced to beep loudly. He hurriedly unfastened it, somehow wearing an identical copy underneath, and examined the inside. A thin rectangular black box was placed in the centre, with a bright digital screen. It displayed an arrow pointing backwards. Ryoga turned in a random direction, checked the box for possible improvements, revolved again, once more, and continued until he was successful, then ran towards the middle of the field, until he swerved sideways instead, followed by further beeps. He checked the box several more times, ventured a little closer to the grove, once more went off in an erroneous course, and persevered… The procedure was repeated 3 more times until he finally reached his destination.
A seated Akari beamingly congratulated him, as a bouncing black-and-white dog excitedly tried to lick his wrist. “I’m so proud of you Ryo-chan! You made it on your own! And we didn’t even need to use the GPS tracker to find you.”
Ryoga bashfully laughed with an arm held behind his head. “Aha-ha-ha-ha… That was nothing, aha-ha… I’m just glad to be back so soon.”
Nabiki had slowly made her way forward, incredulously watching the entire episode. For a moment she pictured the bandanna in the form of a dog collar with Akari holding the leash. The unceasing aria continued unabated over their heads, with stray petals slowly descending, covering the earth below like a sparse rain. The dog began to frenziedly bark in her direction, but was calmed down when Ryoga soothingly rubbed its neck.
It seemed like they were performing a private, early summer, O-Hana-Mi ceremony, or an excuse to have a picnic, as she preferred to call it, even if it started out as Bushido death allegory. Three Bento boxes were placed on a wide brown sheet, one in front of Akari, a second beside the hollow space of an unfastened rock, both exclusively vegetarian with slots of half-eaten rice, mushrooms and vegetables, and a third containing leftover blood and gravy in every compartment… Ryoga was a hunter, but eating animals raw didn’t seem at all his style, and Akari would have been horrified… Some half-grown puppies were sleeping in the shadow of a tree, beside a small cluster of sleeping gigantic boars… in customary sumo-wear. Definitely not hog meat, that’s for sure. A brush, palette and canvas were discarded on the ground. It was a surprisingly high-quality portrait of a contentedly smiling Akari, clad in a light blue dress with a white sunhat and
 immersed in brightest daylight, a vaguely idealised mirror of the girl sitting in front of the painting. (Well, well, hidden talents… Although I seem to remember that he was good at calligraphy.)
“But you really do have to control yourself. That is no way to treat a guest.” Akari lightly chided.
A shamefaced Ryoga anxiously let his eyes dart towards Nabiki. “Yeah, I know. I thought it was a monster.”
Nabiki thought she noticed a faint knowing chuckle from above.
“Ryo-chan, don’t insult her. Now apologise.” 
“Ok.” He turned around, now facing Nabiki, and presented her with a ‘small’ rock that he picked from the ground. “My bad. Do you want to hit me so we’re even?”

Nabiki took no notice of the offer. “So who’s the flower girl?” It was a semi-redundant open question. She obviously had a few notions about the rather straightforward connection, but it might be prudent to feign ignorance for the moment.
Akari answered. “Oh that’s Ryo-chan’s friend from China.”
“She’s a pest and babysitter, is what she is.” Ryoga muttered.
“Now, now Ryo-chan.” Akari patted his hand.
(Did her eyes flicker when she said, “friend”?) “And she’s named what? Brassiere? Mascara? Curry?”
Akari’s face blanked in confusion. “No, that’s Hao Li.”
“Holly? That’s new.”
Akari didn’t bother to correct the deliberate mispronunciation. “Yes. She is very… determined.” She gave Ryoga a gentle look of mild disapproval. 
It might as well have been a 1000-ton bludgeon. Ryoga’s entire posture shrank, and he looked down in wretched misery. “M’sorry” The statement a barely audible whisper.
Akari kindly patted his head. “It’s ok Ryo-chan, it is not your fault.”
Ryoga seemed slightly uncomfortable from the sign of affection, but bestowed her the look of a drowning man handed a lifeline by Amaterasu herself. Absolute devotion and gratitude signified in his every feature.
(Yup, whipped doesn’t begin to describe this guy.) “So what is she singing about?”
To her surprise Ryoga decided to reply. “Some opera about a guy going to battle, with his wife waiting at home while he’s away for years.”
(Charming) “And it takes this long to sing about some forlorn woman lamenting her fate?”
Ryoga gave her a look of utter disbelief, as if she was talking about an entirely different individual. “It’s about the wife being proud when she hears about his victories.”
“It’s about honour and duty.” Akari chirped in. Once again she didn’t seem to quite enjoy the taste of the words.
(Oh-ho!) “Lots of gory details are there? Enemy heads on pikes and such?”
Ryoga and Akari simultaneously closed their eyes and nodded in quiet resignation.
Nabiki inwardly smirked. (She must have lapped up the ‘purity and innocence of the warrior path’ symbolism.) 

Holly had evidently deemed her hymn as completed and floated down to address Akari directly, hands once again crossed within her sleeves, giving no outward sign that she was aware of Nabiki’s existence, and taking care to keep her feet above the ground. More interconnecting singsong tunes. Akari translated. “Hao Li says that she doesn't trust you, but that you're inconsequential.“
(Right back atcha, you obsolete cow!) “Why doesn’t she speak Japanese?”
“She believes that it’s undignified to converse outside the family in a language she hasn’t fully mastered.”
“The family?”
Akari looked self-conscious, like she had let go of something she had hoped to avoid. “Yes…”
Hao Li interrupted again, in a tone accustomed to obedience. “Most honoured and powerful life-mate, come for daily therapy!” imparting Nabiki with a defiant look to disprove any claimed ignorance. She seized the neck of Ryoga’s sweater between her right thumb and forefinger and brusquely hefted him into the air, as if he presented a burden no greater than the slightest feather.
Ryoga responded by harshly grabbing Holly’s wrist and slamming her with great force towards the ground, leaving her embedded in a 2m-radius half-globe crater.
Nabiki blinked. “I thought Ryoga wouldn’t hit most girls even if they were whacking him repeatedly with 10-ton hammers?”
Akari seemed discomfited again. “She’s a special case.”

Indeed, Holly swiftly rose from the indentation, any stains of dirt detaching from her personage as if self-motivated. Her exalted decorum replaced with a radiance of unbridled exuberance. She threw herself at a decidedly uncomfortable Ryoga, clung around his shoulders, and rested her head against his neck, while rapidly unloading a stream of occasionally comprehensible tender prattle. “…So happy baby brother give so mighty groom… Many children… Great honour… Make blood strong…” She suddenly restrained herself, glanced at Nabiki in annoyance for the unwanted intrusion, clasped Ryoga’s waist and flew away.
“You don’t say?” Nabiki deadpanned. “But if she likes being treated that way, why does he indulge her?”
Akari afforded Nabiki a slightly bemused, ‘You’ve understood more than I thought’, look. “She won’t leave, no matter what, and it’s the only way to gain her respect. If he doesn’t prove himself stronger every now and then she’ll walk all over him.”
(And you by extension, I suppose.) Nabiki inquisitively raised an eyebrow. “She adores the raging, self-reliant, warrior-nomad?”
Akari sighed. “Yes, and I prefer the loyal, gentle, and chivalrous family man…”
“A bit of a quandary?”
Akari peeked in the direction of their disappeared companions and raised her previously entwined hands from her lap. “Quite so. Now cover your ears.”
Nabiki did as instructed and waited for a few moments. A thunderous detonation permeated the air and a shockwave caused the ground to tremble underneath their feet.
Nabiki looked towards the noise. A globular spectrum of light, several hundred metres across was displayed in the distance, somewhere in the vicinity of her landing spot, with the neighbouring trees bending outwards from the pressure. (The Shishi Hokodan? No, too many colours, and it’s pushing in every direction.) The earth resolutely persisted to quiver. “What is that thing?”
“The reason for our troubles.” Akari rose from her seated position. “I apologise for the inconvenience, but I really do have to see to Ryo-chan. He’ll need to rest.”
Nabiki was assessing as swiftly as she could. “So his chi is fuelled by all his passions now, and he needs to discharge the build-up?”
“You’re a rather clever girl Nabiki. Give my best to your sisters.” Akari wandered off. 
Nabiki waited until the pig-breeder had departed to a safe distance, and a brown eagle took flight in an opposite course, making a pirouette as it went. (Woohooo! I’ll never grow tired of this!) The bird of prey took a wide bypass route around the enduringly energetic lightshow, and Nabiki was once more headed for Nerima. 

She exploited the opportunity for contemplation during her journey. (I really should have probed a bit further… How did Mister no-direction-sense manage to reach me that fast? How come he and Akari suddenly understand some unusual Chinese dialect? Why precisely is exhausting his reserves therapy? How did that flying musical number latch on to him? And if she’s old enough to regard Herb as a baby, why does she look just above my age anyway? Well… I can make a few educated guesses, and at least this explains the state of that glade. Now, how can I profit from this, and just how needy is Ryoga?)

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Coming up:
Dudududedudu-dudududedudedudu... Sect-Busters! Ryuu picked the shortest straw, and has been ‘promoted’ to irrational zealot-moderator. Being coached by the local titleholder for “most horrid hacker in history” doesn’t make it better. Nabiki is goofing around, or looking for her future… in 20 different locations at once. Who said that making choices had to be difficult?


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