Nabiki just had the best idea ever. She strode out to go find Ranma.
"Hey, Ranma," she called, spotting him doing whatever (she didn't particularly care).
"Yeah?"
"Akane's cooking... would you say that it's bad?"
Ranma nodded.
"So bad... that it's as devastating as a martial art special attack?"
Ranma nodded again, a look of realisation forming on his face. A few seconds later, he dashed off to the kitchen.
Nabiki smirked and followed.
Ranma entered the kitchen to see Akane stirring two pots frantically, one with each hand.
"Needs more sand!" she muttered feverishly to herself, reaching for the washing powder. It was just a little too far, so she stopped stirring (dropping one of the stirring spoons in the pot), took a quick step to the right - and tripped.
Ranma was there instantly to catch her, his warm arms supporting her back, bridal style. Their faces were barely two inches apart. She could _smell_ him. Her heart sped up. She did the luminescent blush thing as she stared at his face.
"Akane - " Ranma said softly, his eyes gazing into hers.
"Y-yes?" she said, then cleared her throat. "Yes, Ranma?" I do not... like... him, she reminded herself silently.
"I want you to do something for me."
Her blush intensified by a few candelas as her imagination wandered. She nodded slightly.
"Teach me how to cook badly." Ranma said, starting to grin from his excitement.
"Wha..." she uttered.
"Nobody can possibly cook as badly as you, so I just had this idea-"
Nabiki scowled from just out of sight as Ranma elaborated. Idea-thief!
"-your cooking can be used as a special attack!" he finished enthusing.
Akane's face was still red, but for a different reason. Her eyes were crossed. She scrabbled on the ground for something satisfyingly heavy and found a bucket of paint- oh yes, she had wanted to marinate the chicken in it- and called the familiar war-cry.
"RANMA, YOU IDIOT!"
Smash.
Ranma recovered much faster than usual, pulling the dented bucket off his head. "Why won't you teach me? Is it because you think I'm not good enough, huh?"
Akane vaguely remembered saying the exact same thing to him at some point in time- a couple of months ago, maybe? She crossed her arms and replied, with an air of satisfaction, "Yes, it is, you flat-chested tomboy- wait, I mean-"
"Fine! Tell me what I have to do!"
And so Akane got a pen and wrote Ranma a list of (fake) exercises to do, forgetting all about the pots still simmering in the kitchen.
Exercise 1: boil water.
"Not in the kitchen, I'm using it now," added Akane, who was clearly not using the kitchen.
Ranma stared at the plastic cup of water he had been given (since Akane was also 'using' all the pots).
"If you can't do it when it's this easy, you won't be able to do it under normal conditions." Akane lectured.
"How is this 'easy'?"
"You're trying to cook badly, remember?"
"Oh... yeah..."
Akane left her newest student to puzzle out the exercise on his own.
Ranma tried to think of a suitable martial arts thing to do, because he hadn't any other skills. If all you have is a hammer...
He shouted the name of his newly-improvised move, "Anything-Goes Arsenic Chef Style, Basic Attack: Water-Boiling Punch!" (It sounds a lot cooler in Japanese, believe me) and punched the cup, really hard.
After a few moments, she called, "Akane, does this count as a success?"
"Could you say that all the water in the cup is boiled?" yelled Akane from the dojo (still not the kitchen- the pots were probably melting by then).
Ranma examined the cup. It was _thoroughly_ empty, partially because the water was now on her shirt, and partially because it didn't really count as a cup any more- it certainly wasn't cup-shaped.
"Yes!" he called back. "Exercise completed!
Exercise 5: Poison a small animal to death with sauce made using only common herbs and seasonings.
"Are you sure bleach is a common seasoning?" asked Ranma, holding the bottle up.
"Trust me," affirmed Akane, who had been infected with Ranma's initial enthusiasm. She took the bottle from him and poured bleach liberally into the saucepan.
"Okay, P-chan, say aaah!"
"AAAH!" P-chan screamed... like a stuck pig.
"Anything-Goes Arsenic Chef Style, Special Attack: Parley de Foie Gras Ripoff!"
Exercise 8: Make toxic western-style fried fish fillet.
"Sprinkle ground coconut, and... all done," said Ranma, sprinkling iron filings into the finished product, and flinching as they started to dissolve. "What next?"
"Exercise 9: Get someone to eat it," said Akane, reading off the list.
"Oh, that's easy," Ranma said. He cracked his knuckles. "Pop!" (This isn't a sound effect, he's calling his father.) "Anything-Goes Arse-"
Akane chided (somewhat hypocritically), "No, you have to do it without using violence. Make them want to eat it."
"Never mind!" Ranma shouted to the panda now looking over at him. "Hmm..." hmm'd Ranma. "I know! Sasuke!"
The ninja's head popped out of the umbrella stand.
"Tell Kodachi that I want her to eat this as a test of her love," he said, handing over the covered bowl. "Don't open the lid, the fumes are nasty."
Sasuke nodded, struggled out of the umbrella stand with difficulty and ninja'd off.
Five minutes later:
"MY TASTEBUDS! THEY BURN! THE TOPICAL NUMBING LOTION DOES NOTHING!" screamed Kodachi, as she turned an unhealthy shade of yellow. "OHOHOHOHO!"
She hit the floor with a thud.
Tatewaki would have come over to see what the noise was, but he was still paralyzed from their argument the previous day.
Over the next week, Kasumi's budget for new kitchenware ran out, and she ended up having to steal from Nabiki's stash (of course she knew where it was, she regularly cleaned the whole house, didn't she?).
Karma was served.