I am looking for C&C on these two chapters of a new "original flavor"
Ranma fiction. Normally I do not post incomplete work, but I'm using a
character I'm not familiar with here (Principal Kuno) and have some
other concerns, so I want to see what you guys notice before I
perpetuate any problems there may be over more pages.

Please don't flame me; save flames for the finished version. Any other
comments are welcome.

DRM



All Ranma ½ characters property of Rumiko Takahashi, Viz Video, Kitty
Films, or whoever else. They are used without permission, but no
challenge to copyright status is intended. All unrecognized characters
in this story are created by its author. This story is not for sale;
anyone can have a copy free, but characters belonging to the author
should not be used elsewhere without discussing it with the author.



Greetings. It is Kirin, leader of the Seven Lucky Gods Martial Artists,
who is speaking to you. It is well-known of Kirin that he is ruler of
Nekonlon, China, and there he fought Ranma Saotome for the heart of
Akane Tendo, and was defeated utterly. Kirin has gone on to other
pursuits, but he has not forgotten Akane Tendo’s kind attempt to cook
for him something besides rice and pickled vegetables, and so, when an
opportunity has presented itself, Kirin, being pragmatic and wise as
well as swift, handsome, and unspeakably wealthy, has taken advantage of
it. Kirin has sent a gift to Akane Tendo. This gift has provoked the
story that is called

Who is Frustrating the Great Chefs of Europe?
A Ranma ½ Fanfiction by Matt Posner


Chapter One

	Akane Tendo was in the middle of her trigonometry test when Principal
Kuno poked his evergreen-topped head into the classroom and called her
name.
	"Akane Tendo, ha ha, little wahini, som’un come see you, you come to
office right now, yes?"
	Akane nodded and put down her ruler and pencil. She was tired of
graphing sine and cosine curves anyway.
	"Cut hair over ears, yes?" the principal said as he walked her through
the halls. "Shave sideburns."
	"I don’t have any sideburns!" Akane snapped at him.
	"Ha ha, use straight razor on mustache. Wash upper lip with magic
pineapple juice. Ha ha."
	Akane ignored his babbling.
	To her surprise, she saw her father and Genma Saotome in the office.
Principal Kuno walked off, still babbling about magic pineapple juice.
	"Dad! What’s wrong?"
	Soun beamed. "Akane! Something wonderful has happened! We have the most
marvelous house guests! I want you to come home and meet them right
away!"
	"The best part," Genma said, "is the free food."
	Akane went back to class, gathered up her books, and went to meet her
father on the front steps of Furinkan. As she headed for the front
entrance, Ranma emerged from a classroom and fell into step beside her.
	"Where you headed, Akane?"
	"Home, if it’s any of your business. Something about house guests
bringing free food."
	"Well, that would sure be a change," Ranma admitted. "Think I’ll come
check it out."
	"Suit yourself."
	Suddenly Ranma seized her and leapt forward. Behind them, Akane heard a
loud SPLAT! When Ranma landed, she realized one of his hands was over
one of her breasts. It couldn’t have been an accident. She put her fist
in his face, then turned to see what had caused the noise.
	"Magic pineapple juice," Principal Kuno said, his jaws dripping with
it. He was holding a large pitcher. Some of its sticky contents had been
transferred to the tile floor "Change bad, bad students into good
students. All hair fall out, everyone big smiling, yes?"
	While Ranma slumped to the floor, moaning "What did I do this time?"
Genma Saotome came striding up the stairs and into the school, followed
more casually by Soun.
	"Now just a moment," Genma said to the Principal. He puffed up his
chest, and his glasses gleamed as he pressed his lips together. "I find
myself wondering why you would choose to throw pineapple juice at my
son."
	"He does this junk all the time, pop," Ranma groaned as he started to
get up.
	"Ah ha," Genma said. "So he’s assisting you with your martial arts
training."
	Akane wasn’t interested in this discussion. She went to her father.
"Who’s staying with us, dad?"
	"It’s our salvation," Soun said, grinning. "With the help of these
three gentlemen, you’ll be able to get married all the sooner! They’ll
save us all, Akane! They’ll save us all!"
	"Who are they?!? If you think I’m going to get married, you can forget
it!"
	"They’re…" Soun nodded his head respectfully, as if speaking of a
departed relative. "They’re the three greatest chefs in all of Europe."
	In the background, Akane could hear Principal Kuno say, "Big kahuna no
waste magic juice on little kahuna, already bald."
	Genma:  "Little? I’ll have you know you’re looking at a master of the
Saotome School of Anything-Goes Indiscriminate Grappling."
	Kuno:  "Big kahuna feed magic mahi-mahi, change little kahuna into…"
	Genma:  "Well, if you think you can make me eat anything you serve,
you’re sadly mistaken, my friend." 
	Ranma:  "Like you ever turned down free food, Pop!"
	Genma:  "Shut up, boy! This argument is a matter of honor."
	Ranma:  "You’re crazy!"
	Kuno:  "Big kahuna _make_ you eat!"
	Genma:  "Is that a challenge? Ranma, the honor of our school is at
stake."
	Akane:  "The three greatest WHAT?"
	"The three greatest chefs," Soun said. "Chef Pierre, master of fish and
flesh, from the French Riviera; Chef Luigi, a salad and spaghetti
specialist from Venice, Italy; and Chef Gottfried, Vienna’s finest
pastry maker." His cheeks were red and stretched from smiling. "They’re
going to teach my little girl to cook, and then she can get married
and…"
	"No way!" Akane shouted. This was just another trick to get her and
Ranma to like each other, and it wasn’t going to work. "Forget it! I’m
going back to class."
	As she stomped back up the hallway, she could vaguely hear Principal
Kuno, Genma, and Ranma shouting at each other about some kind of martial
arts duel. "Humph!" Akane said. "I’d better go finish that test."
	
When she got home that evening, there was a large black truck pulled out
outside her house. Delicious smells came from the house. Ranma, who was
with her but rubbing his jaw instead of talking, ran ahead to look in
the truck. Akane stopped and watched him. He leapt to the top of the
vehicle, ran to the back, and leaned over and in to study the contents.
Then he dropped down and ran inside. Akane shrugged and headed for the
front door. They still had the ridiculous western-style front door
installed (footnote:   last seen in my previous fanfic, "Cousin Kuno,"),
and it was standing wide open. As Akane stepped inside, a delightful but
alien aroma caught her nose. The odor was subtle, almost sensual;
alternately it was delicate and strong, and seemed almost to _throb_
with power. She found herself moving toward it…
… and a short, very fat man in trousers, a white tank-top, and a puffy
white hat lurched out of the kitchen, directly into her path, his eyes
wild as he swung a huge ceramic bowl at her head.
Startled, Akane kicked the bowl out of his hand and into his face, then
sank her fist into his soft gut and planted a high kick into the bowl
where it rested across his head. The fat man toppled over backwards, red
ooze pouring through the cracks in the bowl.
"Oh, no!" Akane said. "Did I…"
The sides of the bowl fell away. The delicious odor emerged from a heap
of spaghetti and red sauce on the man’s face. His eyes were rolled back
into his head, but his pink tongue darted almost autonomically at the
mound of food that surmounted him.
"Nice going, Sis," Nabiki said from the stairwell. She leaned over the
banister with a clever look on her face. "You just kayoed tonight’s
dinner."
"Is that one of those stupid chefs?" Akane said. Now that she looked at
the man, she saw he didn’t look dangerous. He was fat, small, and soft,
and the hat he was wearing was the kind of hat they wore on cooking
contest shows.
"Chef Luigi," Nabiki said. "He gave Kasumi the night off. Figures she
went to go cook for Dr. Tofu. Hope Tofu has homeowner’s insurance."
"They’re really here," Akane said. "Why?"
"Figures I have to do the explanations again," Nabiki said. "All the
time I’m stuck in a rut. But at least I don’t have to date Kuno in this
storyline. OK, first off, look at this." She reached into her pocket and
pulled out a mallet. "Whoops. You’ve got to stop borrowing my clothes,
Akane. Ah, here we go." She tossed aside the mallet and pulled out an
envelope with Chinese characters on it and tossed it to Akane.
Akane recognized the writing:  it said "Nekonlon." From the envelope she
pulled out a card. Fortunately, the text on the card was written in
Japanese.
 
"Dear Akane Tendo:

Greetings. It is Kirin, leader of the Seven Lucky Gods, who is writing
to you. Kirin remembers you kindly for trying to cook good food to
please him. Kirin remembers that your fiancé said he did not like your
cooking.  Kirin recently learned that the three best chefs in Europe
were touring Japan appearing on television cooking game shows. Kirin is
wise and thoughtful and also unspeakably wealthy, so he has hired them
to live with your family for a week to teach you how to cook in a way
that will win your fiancé’s heart. Kirin does not understand why you and
your fiancé cannot simply eat rice and pickled vegetables, but Kirin
wants you to be happy. It will cost your family nothing because Kirin is
paying for everything, because of course Kirin is staggeringly wealthy
and Kirin owns enormous quantities of gold, jewels, and priceless jade
vases from long-ago Chinese Imperial Dynasties, and Kirin also holds
stock in IBM and Wal-Mart. Kirin wants you to be happy.

Signed,

Kirin"

	Akane looked down at Chef Luigi, who was beginning to stir. She was
tempted to kick him again. The food did smell awfully good… but what
could this fat Italian pasta chef teach her than Kasumi or Auntie
Saotome couldn’t? And what business did Kirin having trying to... well,
she had kind of made him sick that one time.
	"Well, there you have it, Sis," Nabiki said. "Kirin’s quite a letter
writer, huh?"



Chapter Two

	Inside the truck was the most fully stocked kitchen Ranma had ever
seen. Besides several humming refrigerators, there were three different
kinds of stove burners, two different kinds of ovens, and a tremendous
variety of sparkling utensils and multiple sizes and shapes of pot and
pan. A spice rack mounted against the front of the van held what looked
like at least two hundred different seasonings, labeled in many
languages. A large pot of soup was simmering on one of the burners.
Ranma stepped over to it, picked a ladle from the wall, and was about to
taste it when a bizarre voice yelled, "Stop!"
	Ranma leapt out of the way of a hurtling butcher knife. It clanked
against the wall near the spice rack. He turned rapidly toward the rear
entrance of the van, spotted his assailant and launched a flying kick.
The man, whoever he was, went flying out the back of the van and landed
in the street. Ranma climbed out after him. He was a tall, lean,
black-haired man with a waxed mustache. He was wearing a chef’s hat. As
he lay in the road, no part of him was moving except his eyes, which
were rolling, and his lips. Ranma listened. He couldn’t understand a
word of what was said.
	"Great, this is one of those crazy chefs," he said.
	"That’s right, boy," Genma said from nearby. "That’s Chef Pierre, and
Akane has just knocked out Chef Luigi."
	"At least no one knocked out the other guy yet."
	"Well, actually," Genma said, "Happosai was here earlier, and…"
	"Never mind, Pop, I get the picture. Look, do you really think these
guys are for real?"
	"I’ve already eaten a lunch prepared by Chef Pierre, and a delicate
sponge cake baked by Chef Gottfried. They’re for real all right, Ranma.
And I’ve got news for you:  you’re going to take lessons from them
also!"
	Ranma imagined long hours in the kitchen with odd-smelling gaijin, and
with the stenches, flying debris, and explosions that always attended
Akane’s efforts. "No thanks, Pop."
	Genma stooped and lifted Chef Pierre to his feet. Chef Pierre’s eyes
rolled in various directions as the elder Saotome carried him to the
truck and leaned him against the back bumper.
	"First of all," he said, "you owe it to your fiancée to stand by her
side in this, her greatest challenge. Second of all, and much more
important, you’re going to need cooking skills yourself for the
challenge match against Principal Kuno."
	"For the what?"
	"The pineapple juice cooking contest."
	Ranma imagined long hours in the kitchen dodging pineapples and cans of
pineapple juice, blocking flying coconuts, and barely ducking out of the
way of a wide variety of shears, electric razors, and grenades full of
depilatory.
	"A cooking contest against Principal Kuno? Forget it."
	"Not against Principal Kuno," Genma said. The setting sun shone red on
his glasses. "He’s going to pick a representative from his own martial
arts family to compete, the same way I’ve picked you."
	Ranma imagined a cooking contest against Tatewaki Kuno.
	"What do I get out of this?"
	"You defend the honor of the Saotome school of…"
	"What do I get out of this?"
	"Well…"  Genma scratched his head. "I was sort of hoping I wouldn’t
have to tell you what the additional victory conditions were."
	Ranma imagined opening an industrial oven and, wearing Akane’s
pig-shaped oven mitts, pulling out a huge roast panda.
	"Tell me the additional victory conditions."
	"Well, if you win, Principal Kuno has to pay for all repairs to the
Tendo dojo for the next year. That would take a lot of pressure away
from us, Ranma."
	Ranma nodded. "OK, but what if his team wins?"
	"Well…" Genma pressed his hands together. "You see…"
	"Spit it out, Pop."
	"Principal Kuno shaves you bald in front of your entire school."
	"No!"
	"Don’ taste ze soup stock before eet  ees done," Chief Pierre mumbled
from his perch on the truck bumper. One of his eyes was back in its
orbit; the other still rolled crazily. "Zees ees beeg no-no, yes?"
	"Excuse me a minute, Ranma." Genma walked over to Chef Pierre and
thumped him lightly on the side of the head with the heel of his hand. 
	"Ah, that’s better," Chef Pierre said. "I was beginning to lapse into a
silly dialect. It is just, you do not taste the soup stock before I am
completely satisfied with it."
	"You threw a knife at me!" Ranma shouted.
	"I threw it at the wall next to you," Pierre snapped. "If I had hit
you, I would have gotten your blood in my soup."

To be continued.