Disclaimer: The playground is by Rumiko Takahashi, I'm only swinging on the monkey bars. Remember to leave the grounds cleaner than you found them and please don't feed the Trolls. *Summer Lightning* is copyrighted by Garnet Rogers and *Lock Keeper* is copyright by Stan Rogers (RIP). The mangling they have been subjected to is my fault. If you haven't encountered them before go out and buy their CDs, they sings lots better than I write, and Stan's estate could use the cash. This story is archived at http://www.kawaiikunee.com/slp/ Release 1.2 (Nov. 25, 2000) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Ranma & Akane: A Love Story Chapter 1: The First Day Part C: Circumvallation; Shopping for Street-gangs. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Ranma lowered her head; and the song, and Furinkan's school day, came to an end. Rising to her feet, she bowed to the rest of the class, who bowed back. An unbiased observer would have seen that several of them were suspiciously misty-eyed, but, fortunately, unbiased observers were thin on the ground at Furinkan that day. So this enormous breach of etiquette went unnoticed. Akane rose too, and behind her the rest of the class. Flowing out of their classroom, at the very back end of Furinkan's main building, and down the stairs, they noticed that they were about to resolve a mystery that had been plaguing some of them all day. First there would be a noise as of someone shouting from afar. Then there would be a rumble, as of many feet rumbling one way and then another. Finally a distant murmur as of many voices, one to another, in the manner of a school building when rumor has broken from its pen, or news runs flashing through the halls. Annoyingly, though, the disturbance had never approached class 2-F closely enough for the inhabitants thereof to make out what was happening. Nor had rumor spread, if rumor it had been, to the class' distant door. Nor had any class member obtained an explanation at lunch (unless, perhaps, it might have been in distant, unobserved corners, under strict and bloodthirsty oaths of secrecy). So, to some of the class, the whole matter was still mysterious, and Akane was frankly ignorant. What Ranma might have thought of the matter she did not say, though, perhaps, she may have guessed. Thus, when, as they approached the front of Furinkan building, the noises from outside became clearer, it was Akane who pushed ahead. Ranma, instead, pulled a Samurai's fan from her jacket sleeve, flipped it open, and, gently fanning herself, walked forward to join Akane on the Furinkan front steps, grinning. As she reached the top of the steps, and looked out on the yard, that grin became a full fledged chuckle. Spread out around the Furinkan yard ("Roses, getcher bunch Roses heaahh!") were a number of mobile vendors ("Caannndy, Bon-Bons, onna stick!") selling, or rather, _outrageously gouging_, the various implements of girlfriend pacification ("Joolry, getcher Joolry now-ow, best prices inna city, Guv'na"). On the way down the steps she passed Nabiki, standing slightly apart, grinning in glee and using a walkie-talkie to direct ("Short-term loaanns, only thirty percent interest over one month, just for you Guv'na, and I'm cuttin' me own throat") the efforts of her minions. Reaching over as she passed, she tapped Nabiki on the shoulder and said, "You're welcome," and then followed Akane through the schoolyard to the street, still fanning herself gently, and still chuckling. As they neared the gate, she drew level with Akane, who glanced aside at the fan still waving gently in her hand. "A little old fashioned, isn't that?" Akane asked. "Oh no, It's entirely practical. Personal protection, you know." Another sideways glance. "It's a war fan? Razor edges and such?" "Oh no, not at all. The virtue of the warrior, after all, exists in the warrior's soul. The weapon ..." passing next to the gate-post she swung the fan through it, apparently without effect, "is merely the expression of it." Behind them, as she walked on still gently fanning, the gate-post divided itself at chest height, fell to the ground, and shattered into dust. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Some blocks away, while passing through a park on the way to the Akane's house, Ranma finally broke the companionable silence they had fallen into. "Would have been nice if some of that apologizing the guys were doing back there had fallen on the primary offendee." "Mmm. I don't know" Akane replied, "they might have been worried that I'd get mad at them for trying." "Would you have?" "Don't know, depends on how they did it, I suppose. I think I've been given more than enough insincere flowers over the past year, anyway." Ranma, was just then passing by a hedge of wild roses in the park, which filled the air with a slightly bitter perfume. Her fan flashed momentarily in the sun and sliced an eight inch length of vine from the hedge, which she quickly wove into a slightly prickly wreath. "How about sincere flowers?" she mused, turning the roses over in her hands, and offering them to Akane. Akane paused and turned to face her, her eyes huge and dark in her face. "Ranma-san?!?" Ranma shrugged, and grinned lopsidedly, "I just don't think that, when _all_ the girls are getting flowers, that any _particular_ girl should be neglected. People might get to thinking that she wasn't good enough to get flowers or something. It _might_ even hurt her feelings. Avoiding hurt feelings is one of the most important tasks a gentleman can perform, after all. And I _am_ a gentleman." "Of course you are" Akane smiled cutely at Ranma, "but I can't wear flowers unless you wear them too." "Then crowned with flowers we both shall be!" laughing, Ranma bowed flamboyantly. Her fan flashed again, and, crowned with flowers, as she had said, the two friends walked on, towards Akane's home. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Ranma looked at the sign hung on the building's outside wall. "The Tendo Dojo, hmm? You hadn't said that your family owned your own Dojo, Akane-san." "Dad hasn't done much teaching the past several years," Akane replied absently as she entered the house, "Hello, I'm home!" Ranma followed her inside and clapped once as she toed off her slippers. "Excuse me for disturbing you!" she called. "Oh, my!" came a sweet voice from the kitchen, "We have a guest!" Hard on the heels of the voice came the speaker, a tall, sweet-faced, girl, apparently a few years older than Akane. Ranma bowed to her politely, and raised an eyebrow at Akane. "Ranma-san, this is my older sister Kasumi," Akane said, "Kasumi- oneechan, this is my new friend from school, Bushiko Ranma." "Welcome to our home, Bushiko-san," Kasumi chirped, "will you be staying for dinner?" "Oh, I couldn't impose, Tendo-san, I'm only here to see about helping Akane-san to train in the Art." "In that case I insist you have dinner with us," Kasumi said firmly, "I couldn't have you training with Akane without something to eat afterwards. I know how martial artists are." "Well, if you insist... I accept, and with thanks," Ranma bowed again and waved grandly to Akane, "So let's see your Dojo proper, hmm?" ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Akane happily led the way to the Dojo, pausing only to change into her gi, not noticing Ranma's raised eyebrow. "Here we are!" Ranma bowed to the spirit of the Dojo and leaned against the wall. "Alright, start out with your kata; I'll just watch, for now." Akane centered herself, took a cleansing breath, and began. For five minutes, and then ten, she performed her kata to the best of her ability, not noticing, as she continued, Ranma's increasingly serious and concerned expression. Finishing with the hardest and most complex kata she knew, she returned to the outside world and noticed Ranma's distracted expression. Quickly becoming depressed, she sank into seiza and looked down at her hands, "Not good enough, huh?", she said quietly. Returning to herself with a start, Ranma considered momentarily, then replied. "No, the problem is that you're _too_ good." She looked down at her hands and briefly chewed her lip, "I mean to say, yeah, there's some things you could improve in, like speed, and maybe you're a little clumsy yet, but... the thing is, most of the stuff I know, that you don't is serious power stuff, and that's not what you need right now." "What do you mean, Ranma-san?", Akane frowned. Ranma looked down, briefly, then raised her head and captured Akane's gaze with her own, blue eyes serious and intense under flaming hair. "Look, Akane, there are two types of martial artists, okay? There's warriors, like me, and there's people with sticks like that Kuno lad I thwacked earlier today. "And the difference, the _important_ difference between them is: warriors are in the business of killing people, and people with sticks are not. The Art of a guy with a stick ... well, it might be about art, or philosophy, or it might be a sport, or an exercise, or basically it might be a lot of stuff, but _my_ Art, a warrior's Art, is about killing people, or, sometimes, _not_ killing people." "Ranma, I _know_ what...," Akane began. "NO", Ranma held up a firm hand. "You haven't thought it through! Take a day, take a month, Hell, take the rest of your life if that's what you need; once you start down that road you can't go back. You don't want to go unless you have to." Ranma stepped forward and put her hand on Akane's shoulder. "I'm serious about this Akane-chan, take the time to _be sure_. I wasn't, I didn't have a clue when I started, cause my Dad's an idiot, and it _hurt_. It _always_ hurts, Akane-chan, or else, if it doesn't, it means _you're_ dead too", she moved her other hand to Akane's other shoulder, "and I don't want my friend to be hurt like that unless there's no other, better, choice." Akane collapsed into Ranma's embrace and sobbed. "Y ... y ... d-do you think I should just ... not ... then?", she mumbled into the other girl's shoulder. Ranma stroked the back of her neck and *shhhed*, "No, Akane, I don't know what your honor needs. I _do_ know that when you _have_ the power you _have_ to worry about it, not using power is a use, too." Back to arms length, "Take this morning, that Takuichi kid, he's in the hospital now; and you can say he deserved it, and you can say it could have been worse, and you can say he was stupid. But when it's totaled up, what it comes down to is that I maimed him, maybe permanently, and I didn't have to." "Mind you", she continued, "six months ago I'd have killed them all and laughed, but that was in a different place, under different rules. _Here_, reacting that ... extremely ... was wrong." "Do you think he _will_ be maimed?", Akane said, worriedly. "I don't know Akane-chan, Japanese medicine is lots better than I'm used to, and I've got some tricks of my own to use if it gets bad, but ... I don't know. And it was a mistake, and you know that at some point I'm going to have to pay for it too. It's a weight, Akane-chan, that you can't ever put down. Don't pick it up unless you've got no choice." "Okay, Ranma-chan, I ... I'll think about it first," Akane smiled, weakly. "Thank you." Ranma hugged her briefly, hard, and then let go. "And it's not all _that_ bad anyway, even if you decide to stay sane. There's a lot we can do to help your Art on general principles, and just polishing you up should make a lot of difference. 'Kay?" "Uh-huh," Akane sniffed, she smiled kawaiily, "Thanks. What should we do first?" Ranma shrugged, "Change your wardrobe." "Huh!?" "You're wearing a gi." "Yeah ... so?" "Earlier today, did you feel comfortable fighting in your school uniform?" "No-ooo, I mean I had to, er, _if_ I'd had to I could, but..." "Exactly! When it's your art, it's got to be a part of your whole life. When Basho was wandering around, d'you think he only did poetry under special circumstances? Only when he had an audience, and a mat, and a formal ink stone, and a three foot brush, and a dozen perfect sheets, and so on? When Hokusai made his prints, do you think he was only doing art on the formal, final print, and not the rest of the time? "Hell, no," Ranma continued, "Hokusai was doing art even when he was partying, (and believe me, Hokusai knew how to party, too). Basho did poetry all the time; even if they weren't doing the formal, get-it-down-right part, they were sketching, or taking notes, or just taking what was going on around them and putting it into context in their terms. "They were doing their art all the time. And any art that's _real_ has to be like that. All the time. And you won't do your art all the time if you're not in a situation that you're comfortable doing your art _in_ all the time. Which, for Martial Arts, includes the clothes you're wearing. So let's go see your closet." ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Somewhat dazedly, Akane led the way to her room, where Ranma was soon standing in front of her closet, sorting through her clothes, and muttering. "Uniform ... uniform ... bleah ... dress ... dress ..." Ranma posed briefly with a sun dress, "mmm, looks good, but _I_ wouldn't want to try to high kick in it..." Akane mega-blushed. "Me neither." "Mmm ..., well, I don't see anything in here really suitable for combat, do you?" Akane shook her head, shyly, no. "Well, there's only one thing to do then," said Ranma, "go shopping!" Akane grabbed her arm urgently, "Ranma, I won't have the money for a shopping trip for..." Ranma patted Akane's hand gently. "Don't worry about it Akane-chan, for a good cause, you can always find _some_ kind of donor." Akane blushed again, "Ranma-chan, I can't ask you to buy me..." Ranma winked at her, "Who said anything about me? Come on!" ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Ranma and Akane walked side by side deep into the Nerima Ginza. Deeply engrossed in conversation with Ranma, Akane failed to notice her steering their perambulations towards the less savory part of town. She regained notice of her surroundings with the realization that several Bad Elements were attempting to loom menacingly in the background. Ranma winked at her sudden start, and put a finger shushingly to her lips. "Donors," she whispered, and continued to chatter. "Heyhey, chickies, whatchoo doin out tonite, hah? Yew wanna _real_ man, hah? Haw, haw, looka this Junichi, a _redhead_, think I'll see if she's a _natural_ redhead, haw!" "Take the trailers," Ranma stage whispered. Her mouth smiled at the forerunners of the ten thugs surrounding them, but her eyes were cold. "Now, gentlemen, you wouldn't risk your reputations by harassing a pair of unescorted girls, would you?" "Hawhaw, and what's gonna stop us chickie, huh?" the first thug extended a tattooed hand. "Well, for one thing," Ranma's tone was conversational, "the element of surprise." Her foot snapped up in a repeated high kick that landed fifteen blows to the thug's chin in a fifth of a second, then pivoted around the raised foot in a ki charged arc that smashed the two forward flankers into their respective walls. (Akane spun and launched a straight power kick into the gut of the thug directly behind her. As he folded, her hand rose and fell in a well-timed strike to the back of his neck.) Ranma shifted position in midair, flashing to her left in a jump kick into a fourth thug that carried him into the fifth, her hand blurred briefly as they landed to the blurry *thud* of many blows to exposed heads and torsos, then launched herself backward. (Akane continued her motion to the side, launching herself at the thug there and blasting through his defenses with a flurry of punches that soon sent him into unconsciousness.) Ranma flipped through the air towards the remaining two thugs on her side, altering course at the last instant to pass between them, her hands blurring as she passed. She landed lightly on her feet, preparing to move towards Akane as her last opponents slumped heavily to the ground. Akane however, had already bounced off the wall in a long jump kick that took her fleeing final foe in mid back, smashing him limply into the other wall of the alley. "Well," Ranma beamed, "not bad at all." "What the heck did you get us into that for?" Akane all but shrieked, "What were you think... What are you _DOING_?" "Mmm? Looting the bodies, Akane-chan, what does it look like?" "You _killed_ them!!??!" "No, no, no. If I'd _killed_ them, I'd have said I was looting the _corpses_." "But ... but ..." Akane could only watch in stupefaction as Ranma, in less than a minute, stripped the mindless bodies down to their underwear, stacked their jackets, shoes, shirts, pants, and paraphernalia in the middle of the alley, and rifled their wallets, throwing their cards and photos to the ground and counting their cash. "Nearly half a million cash!" Ranma gloated, "and better than 250 thousand in loot too! As I said, not bad at all!" "Ranma, what...?" Akane stood openmouthed in shock, "How can you just...?" "Well, after all, Akane-chan, they did try to accost us. If we don't apply _some_ kind of penalty, they'll surely slip further and further into Crime and Degradation, ne? And we do deserve some sort of compensation for our efforts, right? Besides: to the victor go the spoils." "Now, here, take this pile of pants and shirts and come on, we've got to go fence this stuff, and then go shopping." "Shopping?" Akane queried weakly. "We need to get you a new wardrobe, remember?" ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Later, Ranma turned from Akane's closet and pronounced herself satisfied. "Hah! Hah! Still got that haggling touch! Hah!" Akane turned from the mirror, and tried to see how her long hair looked against the back of her new leather vest. "Do you _really_ think this looks good, Ranma-chan?" Ranma looked at Akane's black velvet pants / white silk shirt / black leather vest combo and raised an OK sign. "Trust me, Akane-chan, you look great. And there's nearly thirty thousand yen left for other stuff you might need too!" "Are you _sure_ you won't take any of this money, Ranma-chan? You did do most of the work." "Nah!" Ranma waved her hand, "don't need it at the moment. Besides, we're friends right? One day you'll do something like that for me. Now let's get going, your sister just called us to dinner!" Returning to the dining room, Nabiki frankly stared at Akane's new look. Introductions to Nabiki and Soun were made, and one of Kasumi's typically excellent meals was consumed. Mealtime conversation was mostly superficial, enlivened only by Ranma's presentation of a guesting gift (Wrapped bottles of Sake and a box of exotic spices for Kasumi) at the beginning of the meal. Nabiki had been looking at Ranma with what seemed to be a certain amount of unease throughout the meal, and after Soun excused himself she appeared to come to a decision. "Um, Ranma-san, I just wanted to thank you for the opportunity you provided me this morning. And, um, Ithinkyoushouldtaketenpercentofthemoneyinthanks," Nabiki blushed as though she could not believe what she had just said. Ranma winked at her "Ten percent, Nabiki-san? That's what? fifty thousand? There's no need for that; I'm not hurting for cash." "But I can't just ... _hey_ how'd _you_ know how much it should be? I haven't said how much I made yet!" "You've segregated it in your money belt, Nabiki-san," Ranma replied, "I checked it earlier." "You picked my pocket!?", Nabiki gasped. "Well, only for informational purposes, Nabiki-san. I put everything back, did I not?" Nabiki stood it for eleven seconds before frantically checking her belt. "Nabiki!" Akane glowered. Ranma chuckled, and rose from the table, "It's time I went home, I think; I'll see you tomorrow before school, Akane? And don't worry about it Nabiki-san: I'd have checked too." Akane nodded brightly, but Nabiki hmmphed, "You be careful, Ranma-san, I'll get you back for that." "I'll be looking forward to the contest," Ranma smiled, "I'm sure it will be interesting." "Do you have to go so soon?" Akane wondered. "I'm afraid so. If you look at the time, it's actually quite late. You have school in the morning, after all: you need your rest." So saying, Ranma turned out the door of the Dojo, and, whistling, walked down the street to her apartment, under the moon and the stars. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Walking down the street alone, Ranma thought to herself, 'Wow, friendship, I wonder if...' 'NO!' herself replied, 'she's straight, she's a girl, and she thinks _you're_ a girl. This is the best friendship you've had since Kitsune or Usagi, _don't mess it up_! Besides, you've got some kind of arrangement coming from Dad, right? No More Romance, and that's _final_." So thinking, Ranma walked on down the darkened street. It is the privilege of a Martial Artist to ignore the little voice inside that says 'Sure' after all. Presently she began, somewhat unconsciously, to sing. A song she had learned from a Gaijin ship crewman and translated to Japanese: You say 'Well met again, Lock keeper. You see me laden even deeper than the time before. Occidental oils and teas brought down from Singapore.' As we wait for my lock to cycle, I say, 'My wife has just given me a son!' 'A son', you cry, 'is that all that you've done?' 'Then come with me!', you say, 'To where the Southern Cross rides high upon your shoulder. 'Oh, come with me', you cry, 'Each day you tend this lock you're one day older, and your blood grows colder.' But that anchor chain's a fetter And with it you are tethered to the foam, And I wouldn't trade your life For one hour of home. She wears Bougainvillea blossoms, You pluck 'em from her hair and toss them in the tide, Sweep her in your arms, and carry her inside. And her arms rest on your shoulder, And her moonlit eyes grow bold and wiser through the tears, And I say, 'How could you stand to leave this for the years?' But 'Come with me!', you say, 'To where the Southern Cross rides high upon your shoulder. 'Oh, come with me', you cry, 'Each day you tend this lock you're one day older, and your blood grows colder.' But that anchor chain's a fetter And with it you are tethered to the foam, And I wouldn't trade your life For one hour of home. Sure, I'm stuck here on the Seaway, While you compensate for leeway through the Trades; And you shoot the stars to see the miles you've made; And you laugh at hearts you've riven, But which of these has given us more love and life? You, your tropic maids, or me, my wife? And 'Come with me!', you say, 'To where the Southern Cross rides high upon your shoulder. 'Oh, come with me', you cry, 'Each day you tend this lock you're one day older, and your blood grows colder.' But that anchor chain's a fetter And with it you are tethered to the foam, And I wouldn't trade your whole life For one hour of home. And I wouldn't trade your whole life For one hour of home. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Later yet, Akane stood in her bedroom, looking out the window at nothing in particular. She was thinking about a Decision, thinking about honor, and duty, and leather vests. Seeing, in her mind, a kendoist flying backwards to a wall, and a katana, snapped in two, hanging momentarily in mid-air. Weighing her honor against pain, and tumbled thugs, and a crown of roses. And then she smiled, and returned to her bed, and fell deeply asleep. A response which is noted as common, in cases where a great Decision has been made. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- And across Nerima, silence fell, and quiet reigned. And if, in some darkened corner, people felt themselves abused, and whispered, and plotted revenge, Ranma and Akane, at least, took no notice. And slept the sleep of the just, till morning came. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Next: Chapter 2: The Second Day. Part A: Duel of Engines; A Dream of Blood and Wolves. 'Til next chapter, Eric Hallstrom, 01/16/2001