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. "The Nancy" is copyright by Stan Rogers (RIP), I'm only borrowing it. Likewise "After All" is Garnet Roger's. "Maids, When You're Young" is an Actual Folk Song, and is _Not_, I repeat, _Not_ My Fault. This story is archived at http://www.kawaiikunee.com/slp/ Release 1.2 (Dec. 04, 2000) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Ranma & Akane: A Love Story. Chapter 2: The Second Day Part B: Battering Pieces: Akane's Unusual Morning ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Observe a long established residential district in Nerima, just after dawn that day. Birds twitter and sing in melodic glee at the promises of a new day, matching the mood of anticipation present in one member of the household living at the old-fashioned building with the big sign out front (the big sign that said 'Tendo Dojo', of course). It should not be said that Akane was normally the type of girl to indulge in random destruction as a form of stress relief. She indulged, generally speaking, in _highly specific_ and _exactly targeted_ destruction as a form of stress relief. Even considering this fact, however, the presence of a number of columns of cinder blocks, set at various intervals around the practice hall's floor, must be considered slightly unusual. What was even more unusual, from a theoretical observer's viewpoint, however, was that Akane was not immediately preparing to destroy them. Instead, she was practicing a complex and intricate kata - almost a shadow-dance - around, between, over and beside them. A kata that seemed to involve defeating an imaginary set of enemies while at the same time avoiding attack proximity of the cinder block piles (if the cinder blocks were inclined to be pugnacious, which they had presented no sign, so far, of being). Finally, drawing to a peak, the kata concluded with a flurry of activity that wove and spun through the piles of concrete, destroying each in turn. For a moment after the kata's conclusion, Akane remained poised in the attitude of her finishing blow, her eyes intent and focused on something far away. Then she relaxed and surveyed the destruction, somewhat in the manner of one who, having just endured more than a year of grinding discomfort and frustration, has just been released, metaphorically speaking, from bondage, while - and at the same time - finding a much-desired friend, a much-admired mentor, and much-needed help. Likewise in the manner of one who has, shortly thereafter, undergone an only-partially-favorable appraisal of her main life skill, an agonizing reassessment of her chosen career goals, and the strangest evening of her seventeen years of life. Not even to mention a total reassessment of her most basic morality, and a reexamination of her honor. Followed by a truly momentous decision: the first, depending on how you look at it, of her adult life. Which is, of course, exactly what she was. And which is also why, after having, in a manner of speaking, cleared the air, she nodded firmly, and dusted her hands and went in, whistling, to breakfast. It was a new day, after all, and she was eager, for the first time in a very long time, to begin it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Tendo Nabiki, of that same address, was also eager for the day to begin. Not because she had undergone a great and sweeping change of life, but rather because she too had received something she had not had in a long time: a challenge. She had been scored on. _She_ had been bested. Her actions anticipated, her _pocket_ _picked_, of all the silly things. And yet, and yet ... it had been done with, with ... _style_. And grace. Not in such a way as to damage her reputation or smear her honor (indeed, she had - the household had - profited tremendously). And _then_ this same person, this same barbarian grotesque, had turned around and not only helped her little sister - helped her family - tremendously, but had also turned over a small fortune entirely for Akane's use! And for a new wardrobe, for the purpose of, of all things, 'helping her Art'! How had it happened? She still had no details that she trusted. _Why_ had she done it? And what would she do next? And how would she, Nabiki herself, end up relating to this Bushiko Ranma? For the first time in her life, she realized, the decision might not be in her hands. And what of Ranma, herself? What secrets did she hold? Who was she, really? And how had she gotten that way? Oh, my, yes, a challenge, in all senses of that word. A challenge she was eager to take on. A challenge she was eager to measure herself against, a challenge she was eager to grow with. For her, too, a stretching of her capabilities was a thing that had not happened in a very long time. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- And this is an apartment last seen by moonlight, now stretching drowsily in the pale illumination of a Tokyo dawn. The furnishings have changed slightly: the sword stand is empty now, the silver bowl is gone. In the place of the silver bowl, centered in the faint light of dawn now invading through the window, is a wide platen of burnished, red gold. Above it, on a stand of braided bronze wire, rests a pair of rings. Carved from dark, emerald jade, with the very faintest tracery of interlocking ideograms, they are made in mirror images, each of the other. Beside and between them, are a pair of interlocking shells of thinly braided copper wire, the inner halves linked by golden chains. Above, the diagram of light has been redrawn. Now shafts of pale dawn light seem to twist and intertwine, forming a disc about two feet wide. Within the pattern of the disc, intertwined with light and shadow in a fashion that would make M. C. Escher delirious with jealousy, stands a single ideogram in a Chinese temple shorthand so ancient that even the memory of the name of the style it is written in has been lost. Had he so desired, Ranma could have informed an interested scholar that the ideogram's meaning was critically interlinked with the style in which it was written, a style to which it had given its own name: Phoenix Dragon. In the corner of the main room behind the now opened bathroom door, in that portion of the room farthest from sunlight, now stands a small bamboo tray-table. On it is an iron stand, bearing a velvet curtain all around that can be closed to keep the contents from any betraying hint of sunlight. Within, shining with a light of its own, is a complex assembly of leaded glass and silver rod. Alembics bubble with a pale, luminescent liquid, from them, coils of glass transport glowing beads of pastel light up to roiling curcurbits, swirling with the colors of a mad, muted rainbow, from which straight tubes emerge to close on a central point, where they empty into a silver funnel. Drops of liquid, palely silver, roll down the funnel to drip onto the top of a peachwood rod, carven with writhing dragons going into and out of caves, down which a silver-lined spiral path leads the glowing liquid, reduced micron by micron, to a glass collecting bowl connected to the alembics in a continuous circular progression. Now from the open bathroom door comes a cloud of steam, followed by a topless, towel-wrapped figure, still engaged in toweling dry her scarlet braid. Striding firmly to the closet, Ranma drapes the towel over the multicolored, iridescent, feminine dragon tattoo that winds around her shoulders and torso: displayed passant regardant, dryly looking over its own sinuous shoulder to regard whatever might lie beyond. Then, dropping the towels from shoulders and hips, Ranma stands briefly nude (_Down_ Hentais! Down I say! You've seen as much many times before in the manga!) before donning boxers and a stretchy chest wrap that serves her as a sports bra. Then she places around her neck a small amulet of silver, one face of which is a cracked mirror and the other an ancient piece of pottery, marked with a pattern reminiscent of many ropes. Following this with her usual loose pants, silk shirt and moccasins, she tops these off with her leather bomber jacket, picking her scabbarded sword from where it rests against the wall and placing it, and a wide variety of other implements inside her jacket, in places that mostly do not seem capable of holding them. Lastly she bounds into the kitchen, a brief swipe across the counter grabs the bento and briefcase thereon. Bounds to the far corner, twitching the curtain closed. Glides to the chest, checking the alignment of the rings held above the brazen bowl. Watch now as a bead of light splits into two at the top of the diagram and runs fluidly around the circumference, left and right. Watch it merge at the bottom. Watch it fairly leap across space to pass through the rings and splash into the bowl. Watch the drop spread into a small pool, fizzling energetically. Watch it bathe the rings from below, evaporating as it does so. Watch the next drop splash before it vanishes completely. Watch the pool spread a little farther, last a little longer. See Ranma examine her handiwork and smile. Watch her look up, and through the diagram hanging in mid-air in the dawn's slowly gathering light. See her eyes go distant, as though lost in dreams, or fears, or memories. But dreams fade in daylight, and fears wither away. And memories don't always bring back that which is looked for. And Ranma turns, and glides out the door, locking it behind her. And bounds down the staircase and out the maison's front door. And, taking to the rooftops, moves quickly in a straight line towards her rendezvous. It's a new day, after all, and it wouldn't do to be late. It wouldn't do at all. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Yakubi Ryouken felt, in his heart of hearts, that everything in the world which was wrong with his life was the fault of his name (with some justification, it can be translated as "Bad-luck Day Hound"). In fact, he would not even answer to the hated words unless extremely pressed, preferring, somewhat ironically, the sobriquet of Daken ("Cur" or "Mongrel") instead. Complaining about his names was, in fact, normally one of the two overriding occupations of his life (the other being the worship of his Japanese-Nationalistic divine heredity, and the concomitant despite he felt for anything remotely foreign). Pressed against Furinkan's wall, just inside the gate, however, he was not currently capable of indulging in either one. This was primarily due to the presence of another occupation; he was hating the redheaded bitch. He had woken up, naked amidst the ruins of his gang, very late the previous night. He had spent the hours since seeking out the identity of the bitches who had taken him by surprise, and taken his clothes and cash as well. 'Plus which', he snarled to himself for the thousandth time, 'I loved my Tagamotchi-chan, I'd kept him alive for two weeks, *snff*, and the bitch _sold_ him, sold him like a slave.' But he had her now, oh yes. She couldn't surprise him _now_, and he'd picked up a number of fine Japanese-Nationalistic students the barbarian whore had humiliated the day before, too. Soon, she'd come through the gate and then ... then she'd get a surprise of her own! And then he _would_ see if she was a natural redhead, teach her what a _real_ man was like! 'Bitch's gotta learn her place!' And no-one else would interfere, he'd left the cringing gaijin-otaku pigs too terrified to even move! ----------------------------------------------------------------------- And this is a normal street (for Nerima), and down it Akane and Nabiki are walking on their way to school. Progressing, it should be noted, in the normal, or common, fashion, which is to say, on the ground. And flanking this common street is a common rooftop, belonging to a common business; and along this rooftop Ranma is progressing, in an _un_common fashion, which is to say, in bouncing leaps, five to ten yards long. It would not be entirely fair to say that the Tendo sisters were _surprised_ by Ranma's sudden appearance; they had been expecting it, and besides, leaping from rooftops was normal compared to what they had already seen her do. But they were, undeniably, startled. And startled again by the fact that she appeared to have been, while blithely leaping from place to place along the skyline, _singing_. When we sat down to Tea, hey do me harity When we sat down to Tea, me being young, When we sat down to Tea, he started teasing me, Maids, when you're young, never wed an old man! Finishing the verse as she settled gracefully to earth, Ranma swept the other girls a great bow, and fell in beside them with a warm greeting to Akane, and a merry one to Nabiki. "And _what_," Akane queried amusedly, "was that?" "Song, Boys, For The Teasing Of, One," Ranma smirked. "You, Bushiko Ranma, are _Evil_!" "Yes, I know. Ain't it _cool_?!" And they walked on toward school, and Ranma taught Akane the words, and Nabiki shook her head in amusement, and sighed. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Asano Sayuri shivered in terror, and looked out the window of the second floor. She couldn't, she was too afraid, but if she didn't .... The man called Daken was terrifying, so cruel in appearance, and the threats he had made .... She wasn't a brave person, she felt, but someone had to warn Ranma-san! And she could see, just looking around, that no-one else was going to, they were all afraid of those slime who had _joined_ the, the _mongrel_. But that meant that no-one would help _her_, and they'd know who had called out, and she wasn't a brave person. But ... _but_, she'd heard Ranma-san sing. And she'd seen Ranma-san stand up for Akane-san when no-one else would. Ranma-san, she was sure, would defeat these mongrels if only she was warned. But what if she didn't, couldn't, what then? And then she saw, coming down the street in the distance, three feminine figures; and discovered, suddenly, that she _was_ a brave person, after all. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Walking down the street with Akane, Ranma felt, was one of the better ways to begin a school day that she had yet encountered. Akane had proven an apt, if somewhat embarrassed, student of /Maids, When You're Young/, and the verbal sparring with Nabiki had kept honors relatively even in the opening exchanges. Despite the company and the conversation, however, a martial artist of Ranma's skill is never entirely inattentive to her surroundings, and the concentration of hostility, clumsily gathered ki, and focused attention hiding just behind the wall ahead of her would have waked her from the dead in any case. "Don't change your stance Ranma whispered sotto voce, "and keep walking forward. I think, Akane, that our friends from yesterday have grown melancholy in our absence, and have come to renew acquaintances." Nabiki controlled her reaction automatically, but nevertheless stiffened slightly, 'What?' Akane pasted a wooden smile on her face and gripped Ranma's arm urgently "Ranma, don't kill them!" Ranma winked in reply, "Oh, if I had intended to kill them I'd have done it last night. But since they didn't learn the earlier lesson we taught them I think something slightly... stronger ... is in order. Don't you?" Steering them gently toward the center of the gate she continued, "Nabiki, how are you at negotiations from the superior position?" Nabiki frowned, "You're joking, right?" Ranma grinned again, "Just keep walking, and keep your cool." As they approached the gate she gathered ki for a momentary burst of extreme speed, and then... "_Ranma-sama, look out!!!_" a shout broke from the upper windows of Furinkan, and Ranma spared half a second for an exasperated silent curse as Daken turned, furiously, to the school and marked the person he now fully intended to kill. Then she spent another quarter second to center herself as Daken cursed and lunged and the other thugs began to leap forward. And then she _blurred_. And Akane and Nabiki walked into the suddenly quiet and still court- yard of Furinkan; past the statue-like forms of the various thugs, (arrested suddenly in mid-motion and still stunned, and also quite naked, their only covering the brown ribbons neatly tied around their, ah, ... "equipment") to where Ranma waited in the middle of the yard, next to a vendor's stand neatly piled with various items of apparel, smiling merrily and counting through the largish pile of cash next to the credit cards on the counter-top. "Why, Ranma," Nabiki drawled archly, "there seems to be a group of naked boys standing about the courtyard." "400,000 yen," Ranma said, handing half the money to a furiously blushing Akane, "not bad. Yes, Nabiki, I did notice that, but boys will be boys, you know: anything for attention." Daken snarled furiously, and began a lunge towards the girls. Ranma turned half around, mildly, and across 30 feet of courtyard Daken met her eyes. Blue as the deepest ocean, still and quiet as a moon-reflecting pool, hungry and terrible as the pregnant silence at the eye of a hurricane. Met them, and saw, reflected in them, himself and his relationship to them. And dived, suddenly terrified, for a small clump of bushes abutting the wall and about ten feet away. Someplace he could hide, someplace he could die, anyplace at all, as long as he didn't have to see those eyes, ever, ever again. And Ranma turned back to Nabiki calmly and said, "Considering the penalties for indecent exposure, and the relative status of flashers in the prison population, though, it's extremely fortunate for them that you had this stall of emergency clothing ready, isn't it." "Oh, you know me Nabiki grinned, "I always like to keep little things like this around, for just such an emergency. I wonder, though, how they're going to pay for it, considering their evident lack of ready cash." Ranma patted her on the shoulder as she passed by, "You're a capable person Nabiki, I'm sure you'll think of something." And linking arms with Akane and turning to her, "Ready? One, Two, Three ..." And their voices rose above the onlookers in song... When we went up to bed, hey do me harity When we went up to bed, me being young, When we went up to bed, he lay as if 'twer dead, Maids, when you're young, never wed an old man! And Nabiki shook her head, sadly, and turned to where the bushes quivered in terror, and indicated the sirens rising in the far distance with a wave of her hand. "Well, gentlemen, what's your feeling about extended negotiations at this point?" And Ranma and Akane walked up the stairs to class, singing. For he's got no Faloorum, Faleerum, Fallorum, For he's got no Fallorum, Faleerum, Falaay! He's got no Fallorum, he's lost his Ding-Doorum, Maids, when you're young, never wed an old man! ----------------------------------------------------------------------- At lunch, Ranma and Akane sat under a small tree, conversing. Finishing her lunch, Ranma pulled out her guitar, and played tunes idly for a while before noticing the shy approach of one of her new classmates. "Sayuri-san, isn't it? You acted honorably this morning, thank you." Sayuri blushed, and stammered; "I couldn't, that is I, er, I...." Ranma smiled, gently, "It took bravery to call out like that. You must have been very frightened." Sayuri blushed harder, and looked down at her feet, "I, I wasn't brave. I _was_ afraid." Ranma grinned, "That's what bravery is about! Being afraid, and doing the right thing anyway. What can I do for you?" "Um, well, I just wondered ... about the song you were playing? It seemed so ... ferocious?" "Oh, well Ranma grinned, "that song is from Canada, originally. I translated it. And yes, it is a tad ferocious. Would you to hear it?" "Um, yes." "I'd like to hear it too, Ranma Akane chimed in. And Ranma raised her voice and sang. The clothes men wear do give them airs, their fellows to compare. A Colonel's regimentals shine, and women call them fair. I am Alexander Macintosh, a nephew to the Laird. And I do disdain men who are vain, the men with powdered hair! I command the Nancy schooner from the May on Lake St. Clair, On the third day of October, boys, I did set sail from there. To the garrison at Amherstburg I quickly would repair, With Captain Maxwell and his wife, and kids and powdered hair. Aboard the Nancy! In regimentals bright. Aboard the Nancy! With all his pomp and bluster there aboard the Nancy-O! Below the St Clair rapids I sent scouts unto the shore To ask a friendly Wyandott to say what lay before "Amherstburg has fallen, with the same for you in store! And militia sent to take you there, fifty horse or more." Up spoke Captain Maxwell then, "Surrender, now, I say! Give them your Nancy schooner, and make off without delay! Set me ashore, I do implore, I will not die this way!" Says I, "You go, or get below, for I'll be on my way!" Aboard the Nancy! "Surrender, Hell!" I say Aboard the Nancy! "It's back to Mackinac I'll fight, aboard the Nancy-O." Well up comes Colonel Beaubien, then, who shouts as he comes near: "Surrender up your schooner and I swear you've naught to fear! We've got your Captain Maxwell, sir, so spare yourself his tears!" Says I, "I'll not, but send you shot to buzz about your ears!" Well, they fired as we hove anchor, boys and we got under way, But scarce a dozen broadsides, boys, the Nancy did them pay Before the business sickened them. They bravely ran away All sail we made, and reached the Lake before the close of day. Aboard the Nancy! We sent them shot and cheers Aboard the Nancy! We watched them running through the trees, aboard the Nancy-O! Oh, military gentlemen they bluster, roar and pray. Nine sailors and the Nancy, boys, made fifty run away. The powder in their hair that day was powder sent their way By poor and ragged sailor men, who swore that they would stay Aboard the Nancy! Six pence and found a day Aboard the Nancy! No uniforms for men to scorn, aboard the Nancy-O! "Heh ... Definitely catchy, Ranma-san Nabiki walked up. "Which reminds me ..." "Yeess?" "Why _brown_ ribbons?" "Well, after all, Nabiki-san Ranma's eyes glinted mischief, "You only get a _white_ ribbon if you get an honorable mention." After which, the students of Furinkan High were treated to an unprecedented sight: Tendo Nabiki, leaning against the wall of the school building, clutching her ribs desperately, laughing her head off. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- In the Girl's changing rooms, later, a minor confrontation was underway. The sensei of Phys-Ed, having decided that Ranma qualified under the "Advanced" curriculum, had run head-on into a wall of polite intransigence. Finally, she battered down the defenses with an appeal to school honor. If Ranma did not wear the gym uniform, she reasoned, the other students would be disgraced. Finally, Ranma had, reluctantly, agreed. Therefore she was preparing to change into the shorts and t-shirt which Furinkan girls wore on the field. This had been an object of some speculation among the girls (and boys, of course) since it afforded a look at her bodily configuration, and promised another, better one later. It wasn't what they had expected. The thin, white lines of many scars on arms and legs were definitely not what the girls of class 2-F felt should have been hidden under Ranma's jacket and pants; much less the broad, raised scar across her voice-box. The boxers and chest-wrap were likewise odd, but it was the dragon tattoo peeking out from under her wrap that drew the most attention. Finally, as the designated activity for this class was soccer, came the most dreaded activity in sports: choosing sides. Needless to say, everyone wanted to be on Ranma's side, and no-one wanted to be on the other side. Finally, a sotto voce suggestion from one of the more horrified class members caused the sides to be chosen as follows: Side A: Bushiko Ranma; Side B: Everyone Else. "We ought to set an upper limit of goals," Ranma suggested sardonically, "declare an instant win at twelve or so. With one side so outnumbered and all I'm sure that it will be over quickly, and we wouldn't want anyone to be overly embarrassed." The suggestion was passed by acclamation, the teams took the field, and the whistle blew. And, just as Ranma had predicted, it was over quickly. The score was Ranma: twelve, Everyone Else: zero, in just under three minutes. After that, by acclamation, they did something else, instead. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- In the showers, after the lambasting, a chuckling Ranma congratulated Sayuri on a difficult gymnastics move as she pulled her braid back and looked up into the shower spray. Unfortunately, the heat of the water caused her skin to flush, particularly on her torso, where the Dragon seemed to preen under the heated spray, and beneath the amulet she still wore on her breast. The flush had the effect of throwing her scars into sharp relief, and Ranma paused as she noted Sayuri's horrified gaze, fixed on her right breast, where the pale line of an old scar bisected her aureole. Ranma looked down, blushed, and shook her head, "The problem with my lifestyle over the past several years is that it has thrown me far too often into the company of rude strangers with sharp objects." And she shrugged, and smiled weakly, and went back to her shower. And Akane, behind her, narrowed her eyes speculatively and nodded, as though a decision had been confirmed. And then they all went back to class, looking forward to music, and the end of the school day beyond. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Next: Ranma & Akane: A Love Story. Chapter 2: The Second Day Part C: Crumbling Stone: Duets for Wind and Flame. 'Til next chapter, Eric Hallstrom, 01/16/2001