Arghh, Lack of Free Time. We hates it, my precious, we hates it forever.
C&C Please?
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 Troll.
Disclaimer Part II: "The Nancy" is copyright by Stan Rogers (RIP), I'm
only borrowing it. "Maids, When You're Young" is an Actual Folk Song,
and is _Not_, I repeat, _Not_ My Fault.
*This is a sound.*
'This is a thought.'
_This is emphasis._
{This is a sign.}
<This is Chinese.>
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Ranma & Akane: A Love Story.
Chapter 2 :The Second Day
Part B: Battering Pieces: Akane's Unusual Morning
A long established residential district in Nerima, somewhat later
in the morning, just after dawn. Birds twitter and sing in melodic
glee at the possibilities of a new day, matching the mood of antici-
pation present in one member of the household living at the old-fash-
ioned building with the big sign out front (the big sign that said
"Tendo Dojo", of course).
It could 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. Finally, seeming to
draw 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 focussed on some-
thing far away. Then she relaxed and surveyed the destruction, somewhat
in the manner of one who, having just endured more than a year of grind-
ing discomfort and frustration, has just been released, metaphorically
speaking, from bondage. While, 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 agoniz-
ing reappraisal of her chosen career goals, and a the strangest evening
of her 17 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 scored on. Her actions antici-
pated, 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, a wide platen of burnished, red gold.
Above it, resting on a stand of braided bronze wire, a pair of rings.
Carved from dark, emerald jade, with the very faintest tracery of inter-
locking ideograms, made in mirror images of each other. Beside and
between them, 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 2 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 it's own, a complex
assembly of leaded glass and silver rod. Alembics bubble with a pale,
luminescent liquid, coils of glass transport glowing beads of pastel
light up to roiling curcurbits, swirling with the colors of a mad,
muted rainbow; from which strait tubes emerge to close on a central
point to empty onto 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 procession.
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 pink and blue, feminine dragon tattoo, that winds around
her shoulders and torso, 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. Following these with her usual loose
pants, silk shirt and slippers, she tops them off with her leather
bomber jacket, placing a wide variety of implements inside in places
that do not seem capable of holding them.
Lastly, a bound into the kitchen, brief swipe across the counter,
grabbing the bento and briefcase thereon, bound to the far corner,
twitch the curtain closed, glide to the chest, check the alignment of
the rings held above the brazen bowl. Watch now as a bead of light
splits into 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 straightly and quickly towards
her rendezvous. It's a new day, after all, wouldn't do to be late.
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 primar-
ily due to the presence of another occupation instead, 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 seen to that!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
And this is a street, 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, 5 to 10
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 focussed
attention hiding just behind the wall ahead of her would have wakened
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 aquaintances."
Nabiki controlled her reaction automatically, but nevertheless
stiffened slightly, 'What?'
Akane painted 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 furious to the school and marked the person he
now fully intended to kill. The 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 cardboard and stick seller's stand (now neatly piled with various
items of apparel), smiling merrily and counting through the largish
pile of cash next to the credit cards on the countertop.
"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 10 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. Finish-
ing 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 yeah 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!"
But 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 ..."
"Yee-ees?"
"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 unpre-
cedented 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 under-
way. 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 configur-
ation, 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 sardonic-
ally, "Set an instant win at 12 or so. The sides are so outmatched
that I'm sure that level will be reached quickly, and we wouldn't want
to overly embarrass anyone."
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:12, Everyone Else:0, in just under 3
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.
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.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Coming next. Part C Crumbling Stone, A Duet for Wind and Fire.
Early next week, same FFML time, Same FFML channel.
Eric Hallstrom hallcon@mindspring.com