Author's note: This is titled Remix because I tried to run with this premise once before. It was frankly awful, and hopefully no one saw it, but I put 'Remix' in the title to let anyone who did see that steaming mound know that this is (hopefully) not as bad. Also, you may notice I've not included a disclaimer. If you need one to know almost all of the characters don't belong to me, simply open your browser, click on the file menu, and POKE YOURSELF IN THE EYEBALL AS HARD AS YOU CAN.
As You Like It: Remix
Chapter One
by Bean Bandit.
"No thanks."
I think that was about where it all went wrong for me. I was very polite, and not rude at all, but it's quite certain that it wasn't the answer he was expecting, and, as such, not only would he not accept it, my efforts to control the situation just made it worse. But that's getting ahead of myself. Let's backtrack a little, and I'll show you the how and the why of how my life went crazy, for better or for worse.
"I'm a god."
That was how George introduced himself as he came to sit at my table in the local Starbucks, while I was sipping an decaffeinated frappucino, and idly tapping away on my laptop. I had come to get out of my house, and try and recapture a little creative drive to work on my fan fiction. I had been somewhat dormant over the last few years, as the fan fiction community I had been involved in collapsed over infighting over plagiarism and other rather strident rules. I'd started one at the beginning of the previous year, but I'd again succumbed to the fact I had the attention span of a goldfish. I'd come here to get away from distractions and try to write a little (Really, I was hoping some sort of creative lightning would strike my brain, but I'd settle for managing to churn out another chapter of 'Fate, Stay Ranma'.) And I had a 'god' sitting at my table.
Fantastic.
"Really." I deadpanned, lifting my head up from the table, and rubbing my chin. I could have used a shave before I left. Maybe I looked homeless, so the loonies were drawn to my table.
My initial impression based purely on his words turned out to be wrong, however. He was very clean-shaven, glasses polished just so, and neatly dressed in a clean t-shirt, and jeans that looked as though he'd ironed the creases into them. His hair was a close-cropped reddish colour, and he had the star of David on a chain around his neck. He smiled, and it wasn't a grand gesture of the theatrically insane, but a more embarrassed shrug. "Really. God of the Internet, Third Class Unlimited."
"Congratulations?" I wondered what he expected me to say to that. I should have challenged him, perhaps, but I hate confrontation, so I humoured him, trying to look as disinterested as possible so he'd leave me alone. Maybe I should try writing at the library instead?
"Thank you very much." He replied, his smile a little less self-conscious. "George Sands." He extended his hand, and I took it gingerly.
"...You're kidding, right? Like on 'Being Human'?" Now that I thought about it, he looked like him, too. This was a little creepy. Wasn't he an actor? Had the guy who played George flipped his lid, and chosen to share his little psychotic break with me?
"I can't talk about that, I'm afraid." He smiled. "I'm here to talk about you. Specifically, to offer you a wish."
"Yeah, pull the other one." I told him flatly, scooting away from him a little-enough that I could break for the door if he got violent. He looked hurt that I didn't believe him.
"Honestly! Do you think I'd be here talking to you if I couldn't? You're my first assignment on my new job, and I need to make a good impression." He insisted, very politely. "Look, I'll prove it." Humming softly, he twiddled his fingers a little, and small streams of light-composed of what looked like individual characters streamed from them. They wound upwards, and then in on themselves, tightening relentlessly until the light blurred and condensed in on itself, then darkened, turning into a small USB key. "There. Have a wireless modem. Better than anything currently on the market, and ten times as fast, guaranteed."
"Thanks." I took it dubiously. That was pretty impressive sleight of hand.
"So. About your wish?"
"This is fine, really." I assured him, eyeing the USB key. Did I dare test it? What about viruses? He was clearly unstable, so how could I trust him to allow this into my laptop?
"But you didn't ask for it. I'm offering you anything you could wish for!"
"No thanks."
"No thanks?" He echoed, aghast and more than a little dismayed. I twitched as he raised his voice loud enough that people were starting to turn and look.
"No thanks." I repeated, nodding and fishing for an 'excuse' for turning away such an incredible offer. "I've read 'The Monkey's Paw.' I'm not desperately in need of anything in particular, so..."
"I don't think you understand. You're my first assignment. I'm being graded on ingenuity and creativity in meeting the customer's needs. I'll have a black mark on my record if I can't complete it." He insisted. I began to think fast-People were staring again, and I desperately wanted him out of my hair.
"Look, if I make a wish, will you go away?"
"Absolutely." He replied instantly. Fortunately, I had an idea for a harmless 'wish' that would get him out of my hair, and wouldn't need 'proof', so he had an excuse to stick around.
"Fine. I wish that I was inspired to write more fan fiction."
"What?"
"Come on, aren't you the god of the internet?" I mocked lightly.
"I know what it MEANS, but it's so DULL." He frowned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Right about then, I should have got up and ran. But I had no idea what was being turned over and over in his head, so I just stared at him as he muttered to himself. "I'm sure there's a better way to inspire...wait, don't they say 'write what you know'?"
He suddenly reached over and touched my laptop and the monitor went absolutely bonkers, spraying all the information it had all up at once, and glowing ominously. He pulled his hand away, smiling smugly. "Perfect. I've got the most perfect way to inspire your fan fiction, 'Bean Bandit'. Wish Granted."
It was at that point, when he started to glow, that my vision started to glow white, and my body started to tingle that I realized that I was either a) High on some unbelievably potent acid, or b) in real trouble, as I have rarely, if ever, misjudged everything about a situation quite this badly before.
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Consciousness was slow in coming back.
As colours and contrast reasserted themselves in my vision, It was clear that I was no longer in the coffee shop. Somehow, I'd been slipped a roofie and abducted. Horrifying paranoia about waking up in a bathtub full of ice minus my kidneys began to grip me. These fears proved to be unfounded, as wherever I was, it was warm.
Uncomfortable, though. I had the distinct impression of rocks pressing against my back and butt...not to mention something remarkably heavy on my chest. I cracked open one eye to look around, and all at once, my other senses seemed to kick into gear. I could hear something frying nearby-it smelled good, like pork. Birds flew overhead, and I could hear the husky cries of seagulls. I was definitely outside somewhere. Whatever was on my chest shifted slightly, and I focused on it-
"!"
It was a person! I was being sat on!
Bracing myself, I arched my back and twisted sharply, and I was gratified to see him tumbling off and onto the pavement nearby as I scrambled up to my feet. I stood unsteadily, brushing myself off. Someone had changed my clothes while I was out-it was some sort of blue robe thing, belted and tied off oat the sleeves with these white bands-What the hell was going ON? Whoever that George guy was, I was going to call the police on him so HARD.
"What'dja do that for?" My opponent was also picking himself off the ground. The first thing I noticed was the dingy white karate gi and pants, and the shaggy black hair. I tensed instinctively-if there's one thing that someone wearing an outfit like that wants to do, it's fight, and most of them are pretty good at it. Fortunately, his attention was occupied by something else, a soggy mess of dough, cabbage, and other such things, along with the aforementioned pork. It had evidently fallen out of his hand as he fell, and he turned on me with a sorrowful look. "It's all dirty-"
Now, I had plenty of reason to argue the importance of a mess of a meal with being held hostage and being redressed while I was out cold, but their was a key point about him that shocked me into holding my tongue. He was extremely, -extremely- young. He couldn't have been more than seven years old.
And he was EXACTLY. MY. HEIGHT.
Have you ever had one of those moments where you can sense the world has been turned on it's ear, and just before the moment where it all sinks in you get this weird sort of chill down your spine? Everyone describes it as a shiver, but it's not really, it's more your whole spine tingles at once. It feels like a chill, but it's more like your body's non-verbal uttering of obscenities laced with dread, as it is clearly smarter than you are, and has figured out that something is horribly, terribly wrong just a split second before you do.
That split second elapsed, and the world decided to catch me up my new state of affairs as a bearded giant of a man, almost three times taller than I was, and nearly that many times thicker loomed over me, frowning. "These little contests were your idea, don't ruin his lunch."
At this point, I was beginning to hyperventilate. I spotted some odd-looking metal utensils in a bandolier around his chest (dear god it was huge-did he swallow a barrel?) and while he was leaning over me, I snatched one of them, and turned it around to face me, looking at the metal surface for my reflection.
A young child. The same age as the boy, or thereabouts, with long chocolate-coloured hair tied back with a white ribbon, and large mahogany eyes, a small chin and a clearly horrified expression looked back at me.
"Ukyo? Give that back to me. What's wrong with you?"
I tore my eyes away from the metal spatula to look at the giant in horror. He was concerned now, his brow furrowed as he leaned over me.
I threw my head back and screamed.
"GEORGE, I WILL F%&(ING RIP YOUR MOTHER^#$&ING D!&K OFF! YOU SONOVA-" I continued on in that vein, screaming many, many bad words.
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Late that night, I was still spitting soap out of my mouth, and after suffering the indignity of being forcibly dressed in Pokemon pyjamas and enduring a lecture on polite language, Kuonji Akira ('Daddy'. Oh gosh what fun) had tucked me into my futon, and excused himself to make a phone call. From what I could hear, an appointment with a child psychologist was being made for me, and phrases like 'breakdown' and 'issues over her mother's passing' were being bandied about.
Fantastic.
It was barely eight o'clock, hardly even enough time for the sun to set before I was being put to bed, and worse still I was exhausted anyway. This easily qualified as one of the worst days of my life, and I was looking forward to waking up at home, in my own bed. This had to be a breakdown I was having. It wasn't like I didn't have massive issues on my own.
The more I turned that idea over in my head, the more I liked it. Yes, I had clearly had some sort of psychotic break, and my overindulgence in anime had created this vivid hallucination to cushion my brain. If I went to sleep now, I could wake up at home, and go about my life, and pretend that hallucinating I was a seven year old girl had no implications about the current state of my mind...
Yawning cavernously, I released my hold on consciousness, praying that I was right as I finally fell asleep.
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No such luck. The next day:
"Ukyo. Ukyo!"
"What?" I retorted irritably, rubbing my eyes.
"Is that any way to talk to your father?"
Sigh.
"Sorry, Dad."
"What happened to 'daddy'?"
In a minute, he's going to be on this grill. I stifled the thought, reminding myself my current situation wasn't his fault. Also that the soap was because he cared about his daughter. Never-mind that I wasn't actually that. After all, I'm not sure -I- believed my story at this point. Sighing again, I smiled halfheartedly up at him. "Sorry, Daddy."
"There's my girl. Watch your batter, it's almost burnt."
"Right."
As you may have guessed, I didn't wake up at home. No, I woke up at the crack of way-the-hell-too-early o'clock, dragged out of my futon by Kuonji Akira, (Sorry, I clearly mean 'Daddy') and set to work at his side. We spent the morning teaching me to cook while he sold Okonomiyaki to early morning salary-men headed out of the suburbs and into the office. The cart was set up on a side road, one of the few that had no houses, only a park on it's border, but since there was a train station nearby, we apparently made a killing? I didn't really notice, as I was too busy trying to cook a Japanese delicacy worth a damn.
Surprisingly, I almost managed.
Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't be winning any culinary awards anytime soon, but with 'Daddy' to imitate, it wasn't as impossible as I had thought. Equally odd, even when I thought I was about to screw up, pure reflex saved me more than a few times. I managed to turn out entirely edible food. It was somewhere around lunchtime when I was finally allowed to stop practising. I looked up, noticing the sun was high in the sky, dazedly wondering where half the day had gone already.
"I can't take much more of this." I muttered to myself, very, very softly, glancing up at Akira to make sure he hadn't heard. He was watching me a little too closely after my torrent of profanity the previous day. I shuffled a few feet away from the cart to try and think, something that I hadn't managed to do much of since waking up. (repetitive motions have a strange way of emptying the mind).
This sucked.
This sucked SO HARD.
Clearly, I had not woken up at home in my own bed in Canada. George had not appeared since to explain what to do to -get- home. Hell, he hadn't even given me a briefing on my current situation! Still, I'm not a moron. I could pick up on the relevant points fairly quickly.
I was in a rural suburb on the fringes of Kyoto, Japan. The date I wasn't quite clear on, but it seemed modern-I'd spotted cellphones and Ipods and other flashy gadgets in the hands of passersby. That didn't quite jive with the time frame of the manga that I could remember, and it worried me, but as concerns went, it was relatively small.
My name was Kuonji Ukyo, and I was tagging along with my father-sorry, 'Daddy'-Kuonji Akira, as he sold Okonomiyaki to support the two of us. From what I'd been able to see the previous evening, my mother was no longer with us, which was a mixed blessing, as she was rather attractive, and being her child would have ramped up the 'awkward' level of my situation quite a lot. Still, Akira clearly still loved her, which was kinda nice, in a sappy way.
Anyway, 'Daddy' and I are apparently on good terms with a pair of wandering martial artists, Saotome Ranma, and his father, Genma. Not a complicated existence, thankfully. Being a child meant I didn't have to fake a lot of background knowledge.
That left a bunch of other problems to deal with. First among them-Kuonji Ukyo, me-was a seven year old girl. I dreaded to think what was going to happen If I stuck around long enough to grow up. Secondly, at some point in the near future, Kuonji Akira was going to offer my hand in marriage to the little brat who was sitting on me yesterday. I have never, not once, been anything but a heterosexual male. The idea of attending my wedding as the bride was not appealing in any way. Despite my body, I maintain I am male. At least upstairs.
The option of not doing anything at all was still there, however. If I remembered my manga correctly, Ukyo was in a unique position, as her back story with Ranma was not at all influenced by her own actions. If I did absolutely nothing, Akira would try to marry me off, Genma would steal the cart, and I could justify living as a boy to hunt Ranma down. However, that was a dead-end route. Unless I wanted to eventually give up on revenge and settle for trying to win Ranma (Which wasn't going to happen-at least, not yet. Once the hormones of a teenage girl soaked my brain, who knew what would happen to the way I felt about any given thing? Shudder.)
On the other hand, I'd be in a much better position if I could make some sort of impact on someone. If I could talk Akira...rather, 'Daddy' into not tying me to the Saotomes, I probably wouldn't be able to live as a boy, but on the other hand, it would free me from the unnecessary grief being left behind would cause. An ordinary life as a Japanese girl was somewhat less than appealing, but a firmer command of my own destiny rather than being swept up in the Ranma Saotome hurricane had it's pluses.
A third possibility was to appeal to the Saotomes themselves. If I could convince Genma I'd be useful, but had no desire to marry Ranma, I might be able to go along with them. That would be a HUGE pain in the butt, but the light at the end of that tunnel could be Jusenkyo, and the Spring of Drowned Man. Although who knew if he'd ditch me or not? Or worse, hitch me to some guy along the way for whatever food or treasure caught his eye?
Ranma, on the other hand...if I could get through that notoriously thick skull, and have him learn what I wanted him to know, maybe I could get to Jusenkyo anyhow. And with Ranma watching my back, I wouldn't have to worry too much about being ditched. I could probably repay the favour by helping him learn things his dad was keeping from him.
I wrinkled my nose as I mulled over my options. None of them were particularly good, in my view, but the only truly 'good' option would be to have George appear out of thin air and whisk me home and put the real Ukyo back in her proper place. However, there was little enough I could do about that, and it seemed somewhat unlikely to boot. And if it DID happen somewhere along the way, would it hurt to set Ukyo up a little better than just letting things happen to her?
No, not really.
It was decided. Whether for myself or for a returning Ukyo, I'd work at arranging a better childhood for Kuonji Ukyo. Who knew? Maybe the accumulated karma would get me home that much sooner.
Even though this whole situation kinda sucked, I smiled a little as I came to the decision. Having a plan felt better than being kicked around by fate. I'd work two angles at once. Convincing 'Daddy' that being married to Ranma was the last thing in the world that I wanted was a good fallback plan. But failing that, it fell to me to raise Saotome Ranma's intelligence stats enough to make him a good partner in my plans for keeping us both from being stuck together. But to lead a Saotome around, you needed a hook, a carrot to dangle from the stick.
What could I use to motivate a wilful, somewhat dim little boy?
At that moment, there was a hissing sizzle from Daddy's grill, and my eyes fell on strips of pork he was frying. A 'Eureka' moment, to be sure. Both Genma and Ranma were ruled by their stomachs, and if I could raise my competence level in cooking, I was certain I could bribe Ranma if he proved resistant to my suggestions. Grinning toothily, I hopped up to the grill beside him again, my hands folded behind my back as I looked up at my new father, smiling as though butter wouldn't melt in my mouth. "Can we practice some more, Daddy?"
He looked at me, and I could practically see him melt.
I was almost embarrassed for him. He'd been pensively staring at me and frowning all morning, clearly worried about my behaviour, and one little smile was more than enough to turn him to mush.
"Any time you want, Kitten." He smiled, handing me the little spatulas to fry with, and ushering me to the crate I stood on to cook beside him. It took all I had not to gag at the pet name. I tried to look on the bright side. At least it wasn't 'princess'. Still, Ukyo was clearly a daddy's girl.
I was going to have to resolve never to use this power for evil-
Oh, who am I trying to kid? I was going to viciously abuse this special relationship any chance I got.
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It took a few more hours for Ranma to show up, thoughtfully announcing himself by bellowing with all the might his little lungs could muster, startling me so badly I fell off the crate I'd been standing on to cook.
"HEY UCCHAN~!"
I scrambled up quickly, remembering the day previous when he'd been seated on my chest. Oh crap, we had an arrangement set up based on him thumping me, didn't we? I was not anxious to repeat the experience, but he was barrelling at us, little fists outstretched, and grinning. Probably cherubic from outside perspectives, he looked like a demon to me. I felt a sudden little thrill of fear-despite the fact he was a child, he was exactly my size, and had been training like crazy.
On the other hand, I most definitely did not want to show how afraid I was. It'd be like chum in the water to chauvinists like the Saotomes. Not to mention my competitive streak was rearing it's ugly head-I was doomed.
Ranma ran at me, and I scooted a half a step backwards. He stumbled slightly, looking surprised for no reason I could discern. I swiped at him with my spatula, and his eyes widened as he skipped out of the way, and with a sparklingly swift movement, he kicked my spatula out of my hand.
"Ow!" For a split second as the exclamation burst out of my mouth, I saw Ranma wasn't quite facing me anymore, and I threw any hope of strategy to the winds and threw myself at him gracelessly.
Not my brightest idea ever. After a few seconds of grappling, the fact that he was a little bigger and a little heavier asserted itself, and he pinned me, sitting on top of me.
I have never, ever been that humiliated in my life. Beaten in a fight by a seven year old boy. And he was sitting on me again!
Before Daddy could hand him his Okonomiyaki prize, I arched and twisted like I was being electrocuted. "Get off me, dammit!"
He was ready for me this time, and didn't go flying like he had the day before, but he still couldn't stay on me, and he toppled over. I sat up, red-faced and glaring at him, but made no move to re-open hostilities. Once Daddy was sure our fight was over he handed Ranma his prize, with a warning glare at me. "Watch your mouth."
"Wai~!" Ranma cheered, beginning to happily stuff his face with free food. Irrationally, watching him eat was annoying me. I pushed my hair out of my eyes and stood up to resume my place at the grill when I faltered-winning Ranma's trust was the whole point of learning, wasn't it? If I was just going to ignore him, what was the point? I briefly considered the merits of ignoring him, and was about to try it, when he noted I wasn't watching him eat. "Ne, that was really good, Ucchan! You never made me try that hard to beat you before."
"H-uh?"
Now that he had my attention, his smile grew even bigger. Cripes, There wasn't a hint of ego in it, either. He had no clue he'd just made me look ridiculous...more so if you knew I was a full-grown man, and not the little girl I looked like. "You always just jump at me. Today you waited for me to move first. You been trainin' too, Ucchan?"
Only Ranma could add 2+2 and get 'The Battle of Trafalgar'. Someone needed to explain to him about cause and effect and how it related to people's tempers. "Uh, something like that." I muttered, lost for words. Without question, it was a compliment, but it felt unbelievably weird to receive.
Ranma nodded sagely, as though it was the only logical reply. The silence wasn't as awkward as I expected, but I still felt strangely pressured to converse. I'm not the best in social situations. If you pressed me to think of something I felt even less able to deal with than small talk, it would have to be dealing with children.
I'd like to say it again...I hate you, George.
The sun was sinking further down on the horizon, but it wasn't time to go home quite yet. Ranma was here, so his dad should be along any time, which meant he'd linger around the cart, scam a free Okonomiyaki and chat with my Daddy-
It's a little disturbing how easily I fell into the habit of calling Kuonji Akira that-
But if I could hang around and listen, maybe I could catch him at the moment he got the idea that an arranged marriage was a good idea and steer him away from it?
"Ukyo, it's almost five o'clock." Akira's voice broke me out of my thoughts, and I turned around to look at him blankly. He was smiling at me in a way that gave me a sinking feeling in my gut. Somehow, I knew that he'd already decided.
Dammit.
"Five o'clock?" I echoed, honestly not having a clue what he was referring to.
"Come on, kitten, you begged me for a week to let you and young Ranma go to the festival on your own." He was giving me that funny look again, that one that said there was another call to a child therapist in the offing. I jumped, stiffening and trying not to look as panicked as I felt.
"Right! Festival!" I blurted, running over to Ranma and grabbing his arm. "C'mon...uh, 'Ranchan'."
"My Oko'yaki!" he complained as my grip made him drop the remains of his prize. I looked: there wasn't much left of it. What was his problem?
"You were almost done." I dismissed.
"I'm still hungry!"
Daddy laughed, getting our attention, and tossed me a little roll. I grabbed it out of the air and blinked at it. Yen?
"Go feed your boyfriend, Ukyo."
"He's NOT my boyfriend! I don't need a boyfriend-" I began, glaring at Akira. I -HATE- you, George. I've had enough humiliation in two days to last me a lifetime!
"I'm not your friend?" Ranma was looking at me with big eyes, and a startlingly sad-faced expression, and I honestly thought he was going to cry.
"You are!" I blurted to forestall tears, though belatedly, I wondered if Genma might have beaten that out of him yet. "Just not my boyfriend!"
"If I'm a boy, and I'm your friend..." He began innocently-
"He didn't mean it like that, he meant boyfriend and girlfriend!" I was getting a blank look from him that clearly said he had no idea what I was on about. "Like a daddy and a mommy." I tried to clarify.
"Ah, it really is true, girls mature faster than boys." Akira murmured, watching me try and handle Ranma. I gave him a dirty look, and grabbed Ranma's sleeve to begin towing him toward the festival. The little boy didn't seem to mind, as he was busy wrestling with trying to untangle the riddle I'd presented him with. "Have fun!"
I resisted the urge to give him the finger.
"Ne, Ucchan, how can I be your boyfriend? You're not a girl-"
"You're NOT my boyfriend. But listen, there's something you should know, Ranchan."
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"You're lying."
"No, I'm not. I wish I was."
"Prove it."
"What? How?"
"Show me."
"..."
"Look, I'll go first-"
I hit him. "Do NOT take your pants off, dammit!" Hate George. Hatehatehatehate. "You don't do that. Listen to me, Ranma. This is going to be important for you to know when you grow up, and not knowing it could get you in trouble with the police. Don't ever, EVER ask a girl to take her clothes off, and ESPECIALLY don't take yours off after you ask."
"Why not?" he pouted, rubbing his head where I'd hit him.
"Look, I'm not getting into sex education with you tonight, okay? Just trust me for now. I'll explain in detail later." I looked around. We'd had this discussion well into the city, and were attempting to navigate the wooded park near the shrine where the festival was being held. There was small river running through the park, so we were following it, hoping to catch a glimpse of the festival lights. I hadn't really wanted to go to the festival, but comparing the festival with enduring more wildly inappropriate talk with a really young child, I was extremely eager to find the festival and stuff that flapping mouth with something to keep him from giving me an aneurism with his next question.
He was going to break my brain with the next question, I could FEEL it.
"Why don't you want to be my girlfriend?"
I shouldn't hate being right this much. Fortunately, whatever divine beings looking out for me that WEREN'T George gave me an out.
"Look, there's the festival." I exclaimed, ignoring him and pointing at the flashing lights now visible from the river. "Let's go, we can buy you some food."
"Woohoo!" Ranma exclaimed, grabbing me by the hand. I yelled in protest as I suddenly found myself airborne, trailing Ranma like a kite, no doubt headed for the udonyaki stands to deplete the little roll of bills I'd been given...
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The festival was surprisingly fun. It wasn't like being in an amusement park, or some other North American tourist trap where you're crushed by a stampede of people and pressed to enjoy yourself as fast as you can. There was a lot of people around, but it was a really laid back affair, laughing and talking and eating and playing going on all around us.
It helped my mood a little, and I wasn't as cranky as I was when we'd arrived. In fact, I'd always wanted to go to one of these, so before long I was looking around, just as eager and wide-eyed as Ranma was. We found several food stands, and Ranma and I compromised. If he tried not to eat so much, We'd visit more of the stands. He agreed on the condition I eat with him, so we had a ball trying out all sorts of different things. Udonyaki, dango, fried squid, candies-
I hit my limit pretty early on. I was surprised and vaguely annoyed that I'd gotten full so quickly, it was like a reminder of my changed circumstances just as I was beginning to forget. Ranma was under no such limitations though, and I had to force him to stop eating and try some games instead. Strangely, he wasn't very good at the scooping games, despite wanting badly one of the rubber balls you could win. I was actually pretty proud of myself-I did really well at that one and the water balloon yo-yo games, and I gave them both to Ranma who, to my surprise, was completely awed by that. The look he was giving me was making me a little embarrassed.
Oh, right. Training, never owning a toy and such.
I was beginning to feel terrible about being so mean to him earlier.
We moved onto the other games, and Ranma was much better at them. It was my turn to suck. I shot a cork wrong and it ricocheted into the wall of prizes and nearly broke one of the masks. Ranma won the ring toss game, despite having to stand on a crate to play, and the look on the booth keeper's face was priceless as Ranma eyed the most expensive prizes. I was biting my lip to keep from laughing at the older man when Ranma turned to me, then to the masks thoughtfully. I had a sudden sinking feeling-
"That one." He gestured, pointing. The Older man nodded and removed one of the masks from the rack, and Ranma took it gleefully. "Thanks!" He chirped, hopping off the crate to land in front of me, presenting his prize to me with a big grin.
It was a Pokemon mask. Not just any Pokemon, but the face of a little blue one that looked like a penguin chick. Piplup. I knew of it already, specifically because it's face adorned the pyjamas I'd forced into the previous night. It must have been Ukyo's favourite, and she told him, and the sneaky little brat remembered. What was I supposed to do?
Accepting this would set a really bad precedent. With my having let the cat out of the bag about 'boyfriend and girlfriend' earlier in the night, he might get ideas. On the other hand, for a seven year-old to be this thoughtful was a rare thing, and what with Genma's example, he needed all the positive reinforcement for good behaviour he could get. Not because the mask was cute. At all. Nope.
"Thank you," I forced my misgivings down and smiled as I took the mask. I ducked my head to hide my embarrassment and slipped the mask on sideways, like I'd seen characters wear them in the manga when they went to festivals. He was still grinning, looking immensely pleased with himself as he watched me straighten up, and I felt a frustrating pang of embarrassed insecurity. What did this all mean? Maybe it would have been better to tell Ranma the whole truth about where I came from?
While I pondered this, Ranma grabbed my hand, and began pulling me toward the cotton candy stalls again. "C'mon, let's play some more!"
We never got there, though. As Ranma pulled me along, and my face was busy trying to get hot enough to ignite my hair, we suddenly found ourselves surrounded. The group was about fifteen strong, all the same size as us. I realize that's a peculiar metric to use, but I hadn't adjusted to thinking of myself as a child yet, so I felt more that these were abnormally large children, not that I was an average child.
"Ukyo~" I started slightly as the ringleader of the children addressed me by name, and cringed as I noted all of them were crying.
Fantastic. Crying kids. What is this, a tour of my inadequacies? "Um. What's up, guys?" I ventured hesitantly.
"He took our money!" The speaker was a little girl behind the tow-headed boy who called to me first, and I frowned.
"Someone stole from you?" I asked, suddenly interested despite myself. I may not be able to socialize well with kids, but that didn't mean I wanted to let anyone abuse them, either.
"No, it was in a game-"
"No, he stole-"
"He's scary~!" They were beginning to make an awful din, and by my side, Ranma was beginning to look upset and confused. And still hadn't let go of my hand. Dammit, we were going to need to have a chat. Still, priorities, priorities~! I pulled my hand out of his and waved both of my hands in the air.
"Whoa, whoa. Stop. QUIET!" I shouted. Agreeably, the little monsters shut up, though not all of them looked happy about it. Ranma was looking at me like I'd turned blue, but I ignored him and pointed to the lead boy. "You. Tell me everything. Slowly."
He did. The boy (Who's name was apparently Junichi) had gone to a dilapidated little booth in the back corner of the festival down by the river, and discovered the stall owner was running card games for prizes. Since he had bad luck at the usual fair games, he thought he'd give it a shot. The owner-a really freaky looking old man with funny hair and a weirdly curled beard, not to mention a hat and coat with all the symbols of playing cards on them-had accepted his money, then proceeded to win every single game. Which was weird, but not all that remarkable, until he went through all the kids, and not ONE SINGLE KID had beaten him, and so they'd all been on the lookout for someone to take him on to get their money back...
"Oh no." I clutched my head. "I can't believe this. It's the friggin' Gambling King-"
"Who?" Ranma blinked.
"You know him, Ukyo?" One of the little girls sounded awed.
"As expected of Ukyo-"
"That was definitely the name he was using-" The kids were whispering in amongst themselves now, and I sighed.
"He's a jerk that plays card games with little kids for money. He's never won against a grown up." I explained to Ranma, who nodded.
"Sounds like a loser." He opined sagely, nodding. That was about as far as he got before the group of kids crowded us again.
"You can do it!"
"Please, Please get my money, it's all I have for the festival-"
"Aah!" I clapped my hands over my ears as the noise built again, looking over to Ranma for help. Some help. He was clutching his fist and making his 'bold face'.
"You gotta do it, Ucchan. A true martial artist faces any challenge!"
"It's not a challenge, Ranchan! He cheats! I wouldn't win to begin with-" I protested, and...oh god, the kids were crying again. "All right, shut up, I'll do something about this!" I bellowed, and they immediately stopped...as if they weren't really crying to begin with. Lordy, children are far more demonically manipulative than they're given credit for. I turned to my companion solemnly.
"Ranchan, I got an idea. I'm not going to take him on at his own game, but I'm going to beat him. I need your help." I told him seriously.
He looked troubled.
"We're supposed to accept challenges-"
"Not when they're rigged. You're supposed to find a way to win no matter what. Isn't your school's secret technique just running away until you can think of a new plan?"
Watching his eyes bug out was pretty fun. "H-How did you know...you can't tell Pops, Okay?"
"I'm not going to tell him. I might need to use it against him someday." I smirked. "Are you going to help, or what?"
"Uh, I guess?" Ranma didn't sound sure at all, and I winced a little. He was still only seven. Did I have the right to bully him into this?
"You better be sure. If we get caught, we could get into trouble."
Ranma blinked. "Trouble? That means...it'll probably be fun, huh? You sure are acting different. I thought you didn't like getting in trouble?"
"I can put up with it now and then." I couldn't stop grinning. Ranma was talking himself into it. If I just waited a bit more...
"Okay." He said finally, his grin growing to match mine. "If you mean it, I'll do it."
"Ranchan, make no mistake about it-" I paused, winking at him. "I aim to misbehave."
A cheer went up from the children who had been silently watching us debate, which startled me. My Malcolm Reynolds impression wasn't -that- good.
(((((((((())))))))))
It was a relatively simple matter to give Ranma a quick rundown on what I wanted. I had originally wanted to do this part myself, but humility forced me to admit that the role I had in mind played to Ranma's strengths. If I wanted to come out of this on top, I had to put the best people where they could do the most good. Though, if I was going to be Ukyo for a long time, I had to do something about getting to where I could do things like what I asked of Ranma. In this place and time, people could learn to do amazing things. Why should I settle for being normal?
Still, the future was a ways off. I had to make do with what I was now. Unfortunately, what I was was not good enough. I'm habitually honest, and pathetically easy to read. The Gambling King would eat me alive if I didn't present an entirely different image. Even if I was just acting, the Gambling King would have to figure out which parts were real, and which were fake. Given the reception to my movie quote earlier, I decided on Malcolm Reynolds as the image I wanted to present. It might not wear so well on a young girl, but it had the right amount of confidence, and I sorely needed some.
I swaggered down the little alley, with the assembled children providing an entourage, and hopefully, making me seem a little more impressive. Junichi gave me directions to the stall, and sure enough, a living king of hearts in a beat up old card-themed haori and a funny hat was playing cards with a preschooler.
"Hup!" he uttered in a funny sounding voice as the child played a card. He promptly played another, bigger card. "You lose."
I could see the kid's tears about to start, and if I had to deal with one more crying child that night, I was going to punch someone. Fortunately, children are easy to distract. Before he could get going, I strode up to the King's mat and put my foot down, hard. Hey! I wonder if this is where that expression comes from? "Hey. 'you the Patagh who's taking these kids money?" Oh god, seriously? This is what I get for not knowing the appropriate Chinese. And Klingon? What part of my brain thought that would be better than an English swearword? I am SO BAD at this. Still, the intent seemed to get across as he frowned at the unknown word.
"Oho? What business is it of yours?"
"I just aim to see justice done." Okay, this little act was embarrassing the hell out of me, and I was about to drop it when I looked at the kids out of the corner of my eye. They were eating it up. Especially the girls. Which pleased me on a completely random level. Alright, I was in too far to just drop it now anyway. "How 'bout we have a friendly little wager. You and me. One on one."
"I accept." He replied grandly. "The game?"
I took a deep breath. "Go Fish." His jaw fell open, and I smirked. That should be harder to cheat with while using extra cards. Still, it could be done. He obviously thought the same, because he nodded primly and began to deal.
It was a long, slow game. I was watching him like a hawk, but I felt sure I was missing his moves, since ever so often, I could see little flickers of motion near him. I was starting to get anxious. The King was leading, but he looked impatient with the game, though as I told him to go fish, I saw a little flicker of motion a little further away and behind the king, the motion ruffling the haori slightly.
Aww, yeah! My trump card is in place! I thought gleefully. Sure enough, the King laid down another pair, and I smirked lopsidedly as I pointed to his cards. "Ah know y'all must not play this game much, but the rules say you can only lay down pairs, King." I drawled.
"What?" He looked at me as though he was addressing an uppity peasant. I pointed again.
"Three and Jack." I observed.
"What? I swore I took out a-"
"Yes?" I smiled nastily. "Care to finish that sentence in front of all these fine people that you done stole from, King?" I gestured to the kids surrounding me, and their expressions were not at all pleasant.
"N-Nothing at all."
"No, don't be shy." Ranma's voice came out from behind the rack of the King's belongings, and he stepped into view, his arms folded. "You got hand speed like a pro. I can't wait to spar with pops with some 'a the things I learned just watchin' you tonight. What'd you think of they way I swapped that Jack you were drawin'?" Ranma looked at me and grinned. "You were right, Ucchan. All the extra cards are in his coat and belly warmer thingy. Oh, and a few under the mat."
"Good work, Ranchan." I stood up, smiling at the King, too gleeful to be properly menacing. Something had finally gone right for me! "Well? Want to take it off, or shall we do it for you?"
"What are you-"
I turned to the kids. "Everyone, find your own stuff and take it back. But only yours. Ranchan'll be making sure none of you get greedy." I declared.
"Everything here belongs to me! I won it legally! Take it, and I'll call the police!"
The crowd of children stopped cold, looking to me again, and for once tonight, I was enjoying being the ringleader. "Ranchan, in a martial arts tournament, what do they do after you win if they found out you broke the rules?"
Ranma blinked at me, perplexed by the change in conversational topics. "Uh, they take away your prize? I mean, I guess. Not that that happened to us."
"Right." I nodded, and on impulse I darted forward, lunging at the Gambling King's head. I suppose I got lucky, he looked too surprised to do anything about it, and I caught him at the shoulder, both of us going down in a heap. On impact with the ground, several jokers, and what I suspected were newly added face cards and numbers flew into the air, and fluttered to the ground around us. "You broke the rules of the game, King. That means you took their money under false pretences. The police call that fraud. So go on. Call 'em." I challenged. This was a little risky. It'd never hold up in court, and I was as likely to be charged for assault as he was to be punished at all, but dammit, I was RIGHT.
He glared at me for a long moment, then looked away. "Fine. You win this time. Take your gains."
"Not so fast." I shifted so I was sitting upright, standing, really, my feet on his arms. I decided to push my luck. "I think we WANNA call 'em. That'll be real justice for someone who picks on kids. Unless..."
He glared at me again, catching the drift of the drawn out pause. "Name your terms, you little witch."
I leered, suddenly liking being Kuonji Ukyo. "I think you'll be wanting to change that last w to a b, Sugar."
(((((((((())))))))))
Ranma and I looked at our handiwork with smug satisfaction. He'd resisted a little, but Ranma and I had overpowered him, and trussed him up just like I'd read in the manga. Only instead of tossing him in the river, We'd hung him from a tree and affixed a paper to his chest, writing 'I cheat little kids out of money' on it. We told the kids what we had in mind, and it was all over the festival in minutes. A small army of children returned in a steady flow, almost all of them armed with rotten eggs and fruit, and they proceeded to pelt him silly. He was already covered by the time Ranma and I turned away, and judging by the yelps, it was only getting worse.
It was a small thing, hardly on par with even the least of Ranma's canon manga fights, but it felt stupendous to me, like I'd done something awesome. It did not at all make being dumped into a little girl's skin any better, but it did help me feel good somehow. Like I could be Ukyo and get comfortable. I was grinning like an idiot, and Ranma noticed, but to his credit, he didn't take the moment away.
"That was pretty cool, Ucchan."
"Thanks." I beamed at him, and after a beat, remembered that Ranma was the only reason it worked. "Couldn't have done it without you, partner."
He actually blushed. "It was fun." He beamed back.
"So, are you gonna teach me those moves you picked up from him?" I laughed.
"Why? You're a girl, so-OW!"
So much for a nice moment. I went from unbelievably smug to irate as I withdrew my fist and Ranma favoured his eye. "So?" I asked, dangerously.
"..." Ranma switched tacks immediately. "You just need trainin'."
"Smart boy." I sighed, forcing myself not to hold a grudge. His upbringing...jebas. "Don't just go saying that because that's what other people say or think, Ranm...Ranchan. You'll find yourself a lot better off if you can hold off on listening to people, even your dad, unless he can prove he's right."
"Okay." He nodded readily, eyeing me warily. I guessed where his line of thought was going.
"That applies to me, too! Don't go believing everything you're told! Verify it."
"Vehr-eye-fy?"
"It means to find out for yourself if it's true." I sighed. Randomly, he reached over and pulled the Piplup mask (Which I had forgot I was wearing still) down over my face. "What?" I objected, flailing a little and pushing the mask off of my face and up onto my forehead.
"I was verifyin'!" he protested as he caught a look at my expression.
"Verifying what?" I demanded.
"Piplup looks nice. So does Ucchan. I just verified that you're cute."
I froze as fire erupted in my face, I could feel the heat radiating away from my blush as I gaped, trying to form a coherent answer. Does he have some sort of bizarre split personality? Is this just something that -happens- now that he knows Ukyo's...I mean, my gender? Holy crap, why am I blushing this bad? I stumbled back a few steps.
"R-Ranchan, we need to-" 'have a long talk' I wanted to say, but I never got to finish my sentence, my eyes falling on something between two of the festival booths, It was making a low, droning scraping noise as it appeared seemingly out of nowhere, a flashing light atop a huge, man-sized blue box faded into view.
I fell to my knees. I was reeling from this development. I was in a universe where anime was real, magic was a tantalizing possibility, and if I worked at it, I could train my body to do amazing things. I had just started to feel a little, tiny bit at home, and suddenly reality was yanked out from underneath me once again as I read the sign over the boxes windows.
"Police Box: Public Call."
Next: Young Ukyo's new world is expanded tremendously as she attempts to meet a famous traveller who just might be able to provide a way home, or into really serious trouble! Be here next time, for 'Is there a Doctor in the house?' or 'Dalek down under'!