Three
A Ranma ½ Fanfic by jimra
All Ranma ½ characters, places, and things in general are the property of Takahashi Rumiko-sama. All hail the great Takahashi!
Chapter Two
--
Dawn slowly pushed its way into Jusendo with a slight brightening of the sky and the gentle disappearance of stars. In the Nyuucheizu village of the Joketsuzoku, a large, bald man woke slowly in one of the guesthouses. While the man seemed to have a great deal of blubber over his form, the thin layer of fat that was actually there hid strong, corded muscles. The image of a fat, weak old man was intentional, a deception that made many of his opponents underestimate him, much to their dismay. This type of lie was a prime tenant of his school of martial arts, the Musabetsu, or Anything Goes. As his eyes flickered open and became accustom to the light, memories of the previous day began to filter into his consciousness.
'We finally made it to Jusenkyo,' Genma thought, relaxing into the comfortable bed where he was lying. A smile came to his lips as he thought of the day before. 'We were sparing, and then I got knocked into a spring. The boy really has gotten much better lately.'
With that last thought, the bald man sat bolt upright in the small bed, the smile vanishing as though it were never there. 'Where's the boy?' he thought franticly, whipping his head from side to side, searching for his son. The elder Saotome didn't recognize the house, and Ranma was nowhere in sight.
Standing, Genma found a Chinese tunic and pants laid out on a nearby chair, and for the first time he noticed that he was naked. With no one else around, he had no reason to be embarrassed, but he couldn't go searching for his son wearing nothing, so he quickly dressed in the orange tunic and black pants and moved to leave the house. Just as he reached the door, it opened to reveal a small, wrinkled creature perched on a two-meter staff. The strange thing's white hair, twice as long as the creature itself was tall, still swayed from its arrival, and it blinked its large eyes at the Japanese martial artist. Genma, shocked at the appearance of the creature, stumbled back, barely able to avoid falling on his backside.
"Good, you're awake." The creature had a gravelly voice that sent shivers down Genma's spine, but its Japanese was perfect, if slightly accented. "Perhaps now we can get some answers."
"Wh—what do you want to know?" asked Genma, uncertain and still a bit fearful of this strange creature. "Where am I? And who are you?"
The desiccated one chuckled and said, "I suppose I can tell you that before I ask my questions. You are in the Nyuucheizu village of the Joketsuzoku Amazons, and I am one of its Elders, Cologne. You were chasing the Jusenkyo Guide, and I was forced to stop that disruption to the village. We would like to know why you were trying to kill the Guide."
With that last, Cologne stopped speaking and stared at Genma. As for the elder Saotome, much of this was quite a shock, and he stood in deep contemplation for some time, oblivious to Cologne's increasingly annoyed expression.
'I am in the village of the legendary Joketsuzoku?' Genma thought. 'This would be a wonderful place to learn new techniques and strengthen the Saotome Ryu. The amazons' fighting techniques are considered some of the most powerful in the world…even if they are only women.'
Genma stood silently, staring out into space, for several minutes before Cologne's obvious impatience finally got the best of her. "Speak, male!" she said, a bit coldly. "I haven't got all day!"
Shaken from his reverie, Genma said, "I am Saotome Genma of the Saotome-style Musabetsu Kakuto Ryu. The last thing I remember before waking here was falling into a spring at Jusenkyo."
"Hmm," replied Cologne. "Then you don't remember your curse? That is interesting."
"My curse?" asked Genma, slightly shocked and not a little bit worried.
"Yes, didn't you know?"
Genma shook his head mutely. At that, Cologne bopped him on his head with her staff, her expression moving from annoyed to incredulous. "Foolish man," she said, her tone matching her expression with a good dose of condescension added in. "You went to Jusenkyo without knowing about the curses?"
Once again, Genma could only reply with body language; this time it was a nod. To this, Cologne could only sigh, shaking her head at the thoughtless actions of males. Suddenly, Genma gasped, his expression going from shocked surprise to extreme worry bordering on panic. "My son! Do you know where he is?"
"Your son?" Cologne raised an eyebrow. "No one came here except you and the Guide…who should have warned you about the curse, idiot."
Once she said that, obviously ignoring the 'idiot' comment, Genma immediately went for the door, walking around the ancient Joketsuzoku Matriarch. As he tried to pass, Cologne dropped from her perch and blocked his way with her staff. "Where are you going?" she asked, her expression once more annoyed with what she obviously considered to be a very impetuous male before her.
"I must find my son," he replied, trying to duck under the old Amazon's staff. "He must still be at Jusenkyo."
"Wait a moment, you idiot," said Cologne, without any real malice as she bopped him on the head with the gnarled staff once again. "I will send an escort with you. The Musk go to Jusenkyo quite often, and you are in no shape to face any such as them alone."
Ignoring the hit, Genma turned and bowed his gratitude to Cologne before the ancient one left to gather a few warriors, the elder Saotome following her motion with his eyes alone.
--
Sunrise had finally cleared the mountains around Jusendo when the red-haired girl who was Saotome Ranma finally woke from her trance. She found herself lying on the ground near the Nyannichuan, stiff, sore, and feeling a chill that reached her bones. She shivered as the cool morning breeze blew across her half open gi, and she pulled the damp garment closer around her, shielding her sensitive breasts from the chill wind. Standing and stretching, she seemed totally at ease with her current, female form…at least, other than the fact that she was cold. With a start, she suddenly realized that she was standing next to a boy. She looked over his unconscious form, taking in the black and yellow bandana, yellow shirt, and black pants laced from ankle to knee while she unconsciously finished straightening her gi.
'What is Ryoga doing here?' she thought to herself. 'He was a really good friend in Junior High…even if there was that silly bread feud…but what on earth is he doing in China? And especially Jusenkyo!'
Ranma took a moment to scan the area, and seeing a small hut, she trotted away from the Nyannichuan and her friend. The cursed springs to her left caused her no concern, and her bare feet, used to walking on hard ground, easily carried her across the sparsely vegetated soil between the Spring of Drown Girl and the thatch-roofed cottage.
The cottage's walls were built of obviously local stone, and the thatched roof seemed to be in good repair, though Ranma really wasn't a good judge of thatching. A short chimney of the same material as the walls jutted from the thickly matted straw, but no smoke curled from it to show evidence of a warm fire burning within the hut against the chill morning. Outside and to the left of the single door, a small garden, still brown this early in spring, sat untended, its plants waiting for the sun to warm the earth and a hand to turn the soil. The single window to the right of the door was small, and the opening showed only darkness. However, as Ranma got closer, she saw that the darkness was not the interior of the hut, but instead, there was something blocking her view.
Upon arrival at the entrance, Ranma knocked several times, her small fist rapping loudly on the sturdy, wooden door. When no one answered on the third knock, she decided that it was deserted and reached for the small, iron handle. The door opened easily, and Ranma peered into the musty darkness within.
The interior of the hut was cozy, if a little cramped, but the redhead had expected as much by looking at the outside of the small cottage. There was a small bed and a kitchen area, but the cast iron stove and brick fireplace didn't look like they had been used in several days. There were dry herbs hanging in the single window, probably what little was left from last year's harvest of the tiny garden near the entrance, and a few somewhat crude chairs were set around the small, roughly built table. The floor, rather than being dirt as Ranma expected, was covered by neatly-placed planks, and while they weren't all the exact same width, it lent a more civilized air to an otherwise medieval-looking cottage. All in all, for a hut in the middle of nowhere, it was remarkably clean and nice. Obviously, someone did live here, and the small redhead could only hope that they wouldn't mind her borrowing a little food, as she was ravenously hungry, and using the stove to cook it.
With that thought, Ranma quickly gathered some wood from the open-faced box next to the small brick fireplace and stacked them neatly in the stove using all the experience at fire building she'd gained from eight years on the road with her father. Once the wood was stacked to start a fire, the small redhead looked around, searching for something to set it alight. Failing to find matches, flint and steel, or even a bow and stick, Ranma walked back to the stove and reached toward the wood, pointing her palm at the dry fuel.
"Mouko Takabisha," she whispered, and a small bolt of blue-green ki shot from her hand into the pile. Unfortunately, she still didn't seem to have a handle on how powerful her ki blasts were, and rather than setting the pile alight, the wood almost disintegrated as the sphere of ki shattered it into splinters.
"Eek!" exclaimed Ranma as she hopped back from the new pile of smoldering sawdust and splinters in the stove. "Dammit! I guess I'll have to try again."
Collecting more wood, the red-haired girl build another stack of wood in the stove atop the pile of what had once been neatly-split wood, thinking of using the mound of wood shards for kindling. When she finished building her second stack, Ranma pointed her right index finger at the mound of sawdust and concentrated. Carefully, the redhead gathered the tiniest amount of ki she thought she could project into her outstretched appendage, and without saying a word, she released the controlled burst at the splinters.
The tiny pinpoint of ki flew lazily away from her finger, but only half way there it winked out, its power expended. Ranma was starting to get annoyed: why was getting a little breakfast so damn hard?! After a moment of glaring at the still unlit fire, she sighed. 'It's a good thing I didn't destroy it this time, I guess," she thought, her mouth twisting into a wry grin.
Setting herself once more, she tried the same tactic as her second try, but this time she gathered more ki. A tiny ball of aquamarine energy formed at the tip of her right index finger, and when she judged that there was enough to start the fire, though not blow it away, she once again released it.
The sphere of ki still moved slowly from her finger, though not lazily like the last one, and when it impacted with the pile of splinters and sawdust, it burst, releasing its energy. Ranma's eyes got wide as she watched the spot where her ki impacted the sawdust, and for a few breathless moments the young martial artist thought she'd failed again. But no, there it was, a tiny tendril of smoke began to rise from the splinters, and Ranma couldn't resist a joyous "Yatta!" as she saw the first tiny flames lick their way up from the depths of the pile.
Ranma blew gently on the tiny fire until it was going well, and then watched as the actual wood caught. From past experience, the redhead knew that she needed to wait until the fire had produced some coals before it would be hot enough for cooking, so she decided to check on Ryoga.
Walking back out of the small cottage, Ranma trotted back to her old friend. The oft-times lost boy was still lying where she'd left him, asleep, so the small redhead knelt next him and gently put a hand on his shoulder.
"Ryoga," she said softly, gently shaking the dark-haired young man. "Wake up, Ryoga."
The dark-haired boy stirred in his sleep, and for a moment, Ranma thought that he might actually wake up. But like Ranma, Ryoga was a heavy sleeper, and after a moment he ceased all movement and went back into a deep slumber.
"Poor guy must be exhausted," Ranma said, thinking out loud. "I guess I'll let him sleep until breakfast is ready."
Without another word, Ranma stood and, stopping only long enough to snag her pack from where it lay on the ground, trotted back into the hut ready to cook a good breakfast for herself and her friend.
--
When Hibiki Ryoga woke, he found himself alone. Slowly getting to his feet, the young man tried to gather his thoughts. The first thing he remembered was the girl he had pulled from the spring; the girl with the beautiful red hair and blue-grey eyes.
The boy turned in a full circle, scanning the area for her, but she was nowhere in sight. Instead he could see numerous springs stretching out across the valley in one direction, a small, thatch-roofed cottage in another, and the path he'd followed to get here in the third direction. Thinking that he should go look for that beautiful girl, he decided to head toward the small hut, its open door and the smoke curling from the chimney seeming very inviting. However, as is understandable for any Hibiki, he got lost on the way.
'How on earth did I get in the middle of all the springs?' Ryoga thought to himself as he continued to walk. Unfortunately for the bandana-clad boy, his thoughts distracted him from where he was walking, and he tripped. The last thought that entered his mind before he hit the surface of the pool was, 'Damn you Ranma, this is all your fault!'
--
As Cologne walked away from the balding Japanese man, she pondered what he had said. 'The Musabetsu Kakuto Ryu? That was Happi's school. If he has any affiliation with Happosai, I can't allow him to escape.'
Seeing her purple-haired great granddaughter walking out of her house, she called the young warrior. "Shampoo!" she said in Jusendo's dialect of Mandarin. "I have a task for you and your friends."
"What am I to do, Great Grandmother?" the young Amazon replied respectfully.
"Do you remember all of the commotion last night?" Cologne waited for her to nod before continuing. "I want you, Perfume, and Conditioner to accompany the Guide and that Japanese man back to Jusenkyo. Do not allow the Japanese out of your sight."
"Yes, Great Grandmother," came Shampoo's reply, and she ran off in search of her two friends.
While her great granddaughter went about her task, Cologne made her way to the guesthouse that the Guide had been given for the night. Like all the guest houses in Nyuucheizu, it was a small, two room affair with a combined sitting room and sleeping area in the front and a small kitchen in back, which was also used for bathing. Though the roof was still thatch, it was thick and in good repair, and there was a well-crafted covered porch attached to the front of each house. Walking up to the door, she had to knock only once before the fat Chinese man who was the current Jusenkyo Guide answered.
"Honored Elder," the Guide bowed respectfully, his tone showing that he honored her position. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"
"The man who chased you here yesterday will be returning to Jusenkyo with an escort," she said, a smile reaching her lips at the refreshing change from the Japanese. At least some males still knew how to be respectful of a Matriarch of the Joketsuzoku. "I just wanted to ask you a question before you go with them. The Japanese said he had a son, and I wanted to know if he was cursed."
The Guide thought for a moment before replying, his hand absently rising to rub his chubby chin. "Yes, Honored One. He fell into the Nyannichuan."
"Ah," Cologne said, a strange gleam in her eyes as she considered the implications...and the possibilities. "Thank you, Guide. May you have a safe journey back to your home."
The Guide bowed once again. "Thank you for your hospitality, Honored Elder. May you always find victory in battle."
Cologne turned away and walked back toward the guesthouse where the Japanese man was now introducing himself to his escort. He smiled as he spoke to the young Joketsuzoku in Japanese, but Cologne could tell that he didn't think much of the thirteen-year-old girls she had chosen as his guards. Cologne almost couldn't stop a smirk from forming on her face as she realized that though they were his guards, he didn't know whether they were guard him against danger or escape. Before the Elder could continue her musings, Shampoo turned from the group when she saw her great grandmother and jogged over to the aged woman.
"Shampoo," said Cologne in Mandarin, her voice still holding warmth for her great granddaughter but now with the normal, cold edge of command a Matriarch must have. "Remember not to let him out of your sight, child. Also, the man's son fell into the Nyannichuan."
"Aiyah," replied Shampoo, her eyes widening at the statement. "So we are looking for either a boy or a girl?"
"Yes, Shampoo. I suppose he told you about his son?" The younger Amazon nodded, and Cologne continued in the same tone. "Bring both of them back to the village after you find him. You may as well get started now."
Shampoo nodded one last time and turned from her great grandmother. Trotting back to the group, she filled the other girls in on their mission in Mandarin. While she was doing this, Cologne pulled Genma aside.
"Saotome-san," she said, returning to Japanese, her voice projecting sympathy through its normal gravely tone. "I do have some bad news for you. According to the Guide, your son has fallen into the Nyannichuan. You should be looking for a girl as well as a boy as you search for your son."
Genma looked shocked and extremely unhappy at this announcement, but his only reply was to nod sadly and sigh. "The path of a true martial artist is fraught with peril," he said grimly after a moment, and the ancient Matriarch thought she could hear more worry in his voice than just for the fact that his son was cursed.
As Cologne was analyzing Genma's reaction to his son's curse, the final component of the party, the Guide, finally arrived on the scene at that moment, once again clothed in his green, military cut, communist party uniform.
"Good to see you human again, Mr. Customer," he said to Genma, his voice once again its normal, somewhat jovial tone. Then he turned to Cologne and spoke in a more respectful voice. "Thank again for refuge, Honored Elder."
Cologne responded to his statement with a gracious nod and replied, "Think nothing of it." Turning to the gathered warriors, she spoke again, "It is time to go, warriors. May you find victory and honor." The traditional blessing to departing warriors seemed inadequate in the Elder's ears when speaking to such young Amazons, so she added in a warmer tone, "and come home safely, children."
With that, the three Amazons, Genma, and the Guide left the Nyuucheizu village of the Joketsuzoku and set out for the cursed valley of Jusenkyo.
--
The fire was going well when Ranma returned to the small hut and dropped her pack at the door, and the young martial artist could see that a good bit of two of the logs had the orange, glowing look of coals. Grabbing what looked to be a makeshift poker from beside the fireplace, she set about breaking up the coals and spreading them evenly in the bottom of the iron stove.
Once the coals were even, the red-haired girl walked over to the wood box next to the fireplace and looked in, her smile dampening a bit. 'I'll have to split some firewood to replace what I've taken,' she thought, looking at the three remaining pieces of wood. Shrugging in indifferent agreement with the idea, Ranma snagged two of the remaining pieces of split wood and returned to the stove, adding them to the already burning logs and glowing coals.
As the new logs smoldered in the heat of the coals, Ranma turned away from the fire to search for ingredients. First and foremost, she immediately saw the large jar of rice on a shelf above the stove next to a large pot with a heavy lid. Jumping up to reach the shelf, the red-haired martial artist snagged first the pot and then the jar and set them on the table. Ranma was somewhat upset at the idea of taking the food without asking, but the small chamber orchestra playing in her abdomen silenced such thoughts in favor of the idea of a hot breakfast.
Once Ranma had poured a generous helping of uncooked rice into the pot, she took a quick look around for a source of water to wash and cook the food. For a bare second the redhead considered using some of the spring water from the training ground, but that thought was rejected out of hand. 'If a dunking can do this, I hate to think what drinking it would do!' she thought, banishing a few mental images from her mind. She didn't even want to think about something so weird.
After discarding the springs as a source of water, she almost thought she would have to search for a stream somewhere in the hills surrounding the cursed training ground when she spotted something hidden away in the corner beyond the stove. Walking over to the object while still absently carrying the pot of uncooked rice, her face broke into a sunny smile. 'A water pump!' she thought excitedly, grateful that she wouldn't have to gather the water from a stream or some such.
A tremendously contagious and bright smile making her face look somewhere between kawaii and sucrose shock, the small redhead set the pot under the pump and quickly worked the handle, a stream of clear, cold water pouring over the rice after only three pumps. She continued until she thought she had enough to begin washing the rice.
Once the rice was completely covered, Ranma stopped adding more water and set the pot on the floor. Sitting with the pot between her legs, Ranma plunged her hands into the icy water and began to work the rice, cleaning it. The redhead's father had taught her that everything was training, and cooking was no different. Her hands blurred as she tried to put as much speed into the act of washing the rice as she could while still be precise and careful enough not to spill any of the wash water, and she succeeded...mostly. Considering that her gi was already damp from her dip in the Nyannichuan yesterday and the dew from this morning, Ranma didn't even notice the few splashes that made it out of the pot.
Finally done with the first wash, Ranma drained the dirty water into the large stone basin under the water pump, careful not to pour out any rice, and then she repeated the washing process.
After another two cycles of wash and drain, the red-haired girl finally deemed the rice clean enough to eat. Having so decided, she added enough water for the rice to cook and set the pot atop the stove. Once Ranma had added the heavy lid to the steamer pot, she went in search of other things to eat.
Unfortunately, the girl didn't see much of anything she knew how to cook, the ingredients being foreign to her definitely Japanese cooking skills. The sunny smile that had dominated her face for some time began to fade, but after a moment it returned in full force. 'I almost forgot!' she thought happily. 'I've got some food in my pack!'
The girl practically bounced to the door and opened the heavy, canvas backpack. Reaching inside, Ranma began to pull out ingredients, mentally cataloguing them as she set them on the table.
'Dried bonito flakes…dried wakame...a jar of miso...a couple of shiitake...some sardines...hmmmm,' she thought, and once all the food items were sitting on the table, she gazed at them, deep in thought. 'What can I make with this stuff? Maybe...no I'd need nori, mirin, and sugar for that. How 'bout...nope, nope, I'd need chicken and squid, not to mention the soba. Damn...what can I make?'
Finally, after a few minutes of this, Ranma looked up and snapped her fingers, her eyes once again bright and happy. Happy enough that she spoke aloud. "I got it! Miso soup!"
Pleased at having a plan of action once more, Ranma wasted no time in getting started on the soup. After all, she had to make it basically from scratch, and that meant taking some time.
'First thing's first,' she thought as her eyes swept around the small cottage. 'I need to make the dashi, and I need a pot for that.'
After a few more moments of searching, she finally spied a smaller pot sitting half hidden behind the water pump. Not wasting any time, Ranma quickly filled the pot with cold, clear water from the pump and set it on the stove next to the boiling rice steamer. Spying that, Ranma was a bit disappointed and thought, 'Oh well, guess it'll still be camp rice.'
Pushing thoughts of well-cooked rice from her mind, the red-haired martial artist turned her attention back to the task at hand. Searching the kitchen area once again, Ranma turned up a fairly good knife. While it was a bit dull and had seen some major use, it was good steel and well made, unlike most of the other objects in the hut. Moving over to the table, Ranma began her ingredient preparation (read: insane knife training) by throwing the block of dried wakame and the shiitake into the air.
Yelling, Ranma jumped to meet the now falling food items, and her hand became a blur. A moment later, Ranma landed in a stance, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. Behind her, as proof that she deserved to smirk like that, the wakame and shiitake fell gently onto the table in neat piles, perfectly sliced.
Ranma allowed herself a few more seconds of satisfaction before continuing the preparation of breakfast. However, the sound of boiling water coming from the stove snatched her attention away from patting herself on the back, and Ranma quickly removed the pot from the stove and added the dried bonito flakes and about half of the wakame.
The water was hot enough to continue to simmer even after Ranma removed it from the stove, and after only a few moments, the flakes sank to the bottom signifying that the stock was ready. Ranma quickly used the knife to spear the used flakes from the bottom before the dashi could become bitter and tossed them back onto the table. After sampling the finished dashi, Ranma scooped a good bit of her aka miso (red miso, the strongest variety) into the steaming stock and started stirring, trying to dissolve the soy paste into the fish stock, and even though she was forced to use a knife to stir soup, the redhead was relatively successful at her task.
Once the miso paste had dissolved, Ranma snagged the other ingredients off of the table and added the shiitake slices and remaining wakame to the now wonderfully aromatic soup. Setting aside the pot holding the miso soup, Ranma suddenly realized that she could no longer hear boiling coming from the pot containing the rice. Almost cursing, the diminutive cook snagged the pot off of the hot, cast-iron top of the stove and quickly removed the lid, her smile long faded as she gazed upon the somewhat seared rice.
Ranma sighed. 'I never have been able to cook rice just right, even with modern equipment,' she thought, a bit sadly, 'and camp rice is even harder to get right. Oh well, I'm too hungry to try again.'
Swallowing her pride and disappointment in favor of hopefully swallowing her breakfast in a few minutes, Ranma snagged a couple of bowls from the cupboard and quickly filled them with the slightly-sticky short-grain rice. Then, careful not to spill any, she poured the miso soup over the top. That done, she opened the two cans of sardines remaining on the table and set the small fish over the top of her creations. Spying a bottle of soy sauce and a jar of black sesame seeds sitting in the window under the dried herbs, Ranma snagged them, and after sprinkling a generous portion of sesame seeds over soup, rice, and fish, she finished the meal by topping it off with a swirl of soy. Satisfied with her creations, Ranma took a bowl in each hand and walked to the door of the small cottage.
When Ranma finally emerged from the hut carrying the two bowls of miso soup and rice, she found Ryoga missing. A bit worried about her erstwhile friend, Ranma set down the bowls and began to search the training ground, hungry as she was.
"Ryoga?!" she called. "Where are you Ryoga?"
After about half an hour of searching, she was very unhappy with her lack of results, but she chalked it up to that famous Hibiki sense of direction. With a sigh, Ranma headed back to where she had left breakfast, her now absolutely empty stomach demanding that she eat both bowls of now-cool miso-covered rice.
--
"Wow!" said Mint, excitement evident in his voice. "It's a girl!"
"Where?" replied Mint's larger counterpart, Lime. Mint pointed briefly across a few of Jusenkyo's springs toward the Guide's hut, and Lime quieted, staring.
The two Musk warriors crouched behind some bushes near the Guide's domicile. Their mission was a simple one: bring back some various cursed water, especially Nyannichuan, to replenish the Musk's supplies. However, they knew that there was always a standing order to capture any women found during a mission, and with the appearance of this redheaded beauty, Mint had already decided that she would be the primary focus of the mission, now.
"I will now try speaking to a woman," said Lime, and before Mint could stop the larger warrior, he jumped from behind the bush with a grace and speed that belied his bulk to land nearly five meters away. From there, he rushed forward to confront the startled redhead just as she was finishing a meal of some sort. For her part, the girl jumped back two meters and half dropped into a defensive stance, the bowl she had been eating out of laying forgotten on the ground where she'd been sitting.
"Hello," said Lime, a huge, dopey smile on his face. The gi-clad girl blink-blinked and stood straight, relaxing a bit.
"I don't know Chinese," she replied in a somewhat confused voice. "Sorry."
By this time, Mint was standing next to his larger friend, startling the girl once again. She was obviously tense, and to the seasoned eyes of a veteran warrior like Mint, she was obviously a fighter. Knowing, deep down, that any girl as beautiful as this in this area who was also a warrior was probably a Joketsuzoku, Mint became wary, but her use of Japanese threw him off a bit. Recognizing her language and the fact that she wasn't threatening or attacking them, Mint decided she must not be an Amazon and replied in what was obviously the girl's native tongue, "Hello."
"Oh," the girl said, smiling brightly. "Hello."
Mint's eyes widened, and his smile was just as large and dopey as Lime's. With that smile, all thoughts of being warriors and worrying about the girl being a fighter fled from the smaller Musk's mind, and he let instinct and inexperience take over. Turning to his friend, Mint said in a very happy, almost singsong voice, "I have talked to a woman, and a woman has now talked to me. I will now try touching a woman."
The girl's eyes widened a bit at this, and she took a step back. However, Mint surged forward with his usual, blinding speed. Before the girl could blink, Mint reached her, the animalistic warrior's hands resting on her left shoulder and right breast. The boy's eyes glazed over at the feel of the soft flesh under his left hand, so he missed the look of utter fury in the girl's eyes.
WHAPP!!
The next thing Mint knew, he was lying crumpled on the ground, his face burning with the pain of a VERY hard slap. Luckily, the blow brought the warrior back to his senses, but unfortunately, it was already too late. The Musk looked up at the girl and almost gasped at the vision of absolute fury standing above him with a battle aura nearly three quarters the size of Prince Herb's when he was angry!
"HOW DARE YOU!!" the girl shouted, anger and indignation literally rolling off of her in waves of heat and ki energy. "Someone should teach you some manners…"
As the girl shouted, Mint and Lime's eyes widened even more. Just as she said the word 'manners,' her form shifted. She grew by a good thirty centimeters, her hair turned black, and her breasts vanished. Her voice, a low soprano, shifted along with her body, becoming a mid-range tenor. Worst of all, the aquamarine battle aura that had obscured her form blazed even larger, and all the terrified Musk could do was stare in frozen, abject fear at the aura of ki burning around him, one that managed to rival their master's.
"…and I'm just the person to do it!" finished the black-haired, pigtailed boy standing before the two Musk, and before they could move, the martial artist rushed forward to attack with a cry of rage.
--
The walk from Nyuucheizu to Jusenkyo was a pleasant one, especially on such a nice morning. Shampoo, Perfume, and Conditioner almost skipped along, only the fact that they were Joketsuzoku warriors preventing the girlish action. Still, the three young warrior women were all smiles. The sky was clear, the wind was brisk, and the sunlight was warm. And even better, one of the Matriarchs had actually sent them on a mission! They each knew, deep down, that she wouldn't have sent three thirteen-year-old warriors-in-training if this would be a dangerous mission, but they had still been chosen to go on a mission, however safe and peaceful. All of these combined into a wonderful morning for a walk, and even the Guide seemed in very good spirits.
Shampoo briefly shifted her mind into fighting mode and took quick stock of their situation. They were only a little ways from Jusenkyo and making good time. Each of her friends wore the strangely-colorful light armor of their particular village of Joketsuzoku and had the weapon she favored: Perfume held an iron-bound staff, Conditioner's sword was sheathed on her belt, and Shampoo's own bonbori were secreted away using her friend Mousse's hidden weapons techniques.
Thinking of Mousse sent Shampoo's mind down a tangent. Mousse had to be the most annoying boy in the village, and most everyone would be surprised that she counted him a friend, especially considering the number of times she had beaten him to the ground for expressing his 'love' for her. Shampoo mentally sighed as she thought of the myopic boy; he really was her best friend when he could keep his feelings under control, but that was happening less and less of late.
Trying to forget about Mousse, Shampoo decided to watch the scenery. Being in no real hurry, the small party of travelers walked relatively slowly through the forests of Jusendo near the cursed training ground. For a moment, the young Joketsuzoku considered the silence that always surrounded Jusenkyo, as though the animals knew to stay away instinctively. It made her own warrior instincts tingle when she considered the lack of normal forest sounds, like there was always a large predator stalking nearby.
Shaking herself, Shampoo released her fear. There were no predators near Jusenkyo because ALL the animals stayed away, even the largest of the tigers and bears. Focusing on the path, Shampoo forced herself to relax and think of her mission.
'Great Grandmother said that I shouldn't let the Japanese out of my sight,' she thought, her face twisting into the cute, small frown of deep contemplation. 'I wonder why she would be so insistent that I watch an outsider? He doesn't seem particularly strong.'
As her thoughts turned to the large Japanese man with them, her eyes were drawn to him. Shampoo could see the worry in the man's eyes as he determinedly marched down the narrow path behind Conditioner, who was at point. After him was Perfume and then the Guide, with Shampoo taking rear-guard.
As she looked at the elder Saotome, she began to see his inherent, perhaps even intentional, deception. The way he moved belied his assumed bulk, and he displayed a grace and strength that reminded her of her own father: the strongest man in the village. Shampoo had always harbored a secret respect for the man, even though she was expected to treat him sternly as a proud warrior to a weak male, a state made especially so after her mother had passed and she became the defacto head of her immediate family (not counting her great grandmother, of course). He had had a quiet strength, and she couldn't help but feel that he deserved more than the lot of a man in the Joketsuzoku.
The sound of fighting shook the purple-haired Joketsuzoku from her reverie, and she immediately drew her bonbori, her friends doing likewise with their own weapons. Together with the Guide and the Japanese, the group rushed forward the last, small distance to Jusenkyo.
Rounding the last curve to Jusenkyo at a mad dash, Shampoo skidded to a halt, her eyes finding a vision of masculinity before her. The black-haired boy was fighting two Musk warriors, and he had them totally out classed. Such a man would make and excellent husband and a bit of drool formed in the corner of Shampoo's mouth when the martial artist's gi flew open for a moment to show his perfectly-muscled chest and washboard stomach. Unfortunately, she forgot that when she'd rushed forward she had taken the lead of the group, and a pile of young Joketsuzoku quickly formed on top of her. Luckily for the three warrior women, the two men managed to stop before joining them.
After a few moments, the pile of flailing limbs untangled itself, and all three Joketsuzoku found themselves entranced by the fighter. The beating he gave the two Musk was perfect; each strike calculated to cause maximum pain with a minimum of actual damage. By the time the fight was over, the three warriors' eyes had glazed, their thoughts totally absorbed into a world where the perfect male before them was their husband. Shampoo briefly and fearfully noted the huge battle aura around him, but his gi chose that moment to fall open as the fighting had loosened his belt, and the young Joketsuzoku's thoughts abandoned any worries about his power in favor of a fantasy a bit too graphic to write here.
Finally, the pigtailed boy left the two unconscious Musk lying side-by-side on the ground. He was breathing hard, and a thin sheen of sweat covered his exposed flesh. After taking a moment to get his breathing under control, the boy looked down at the defeated, bruised, and beaten Musk and said, "There. Maybe next time you'll show better manners."
Before Shampoo could call out to the victorious martial artist, the Japanese man shouted to the gi-clad boy, "Ranma! Good fight! You alright?"
The dark-haired boy turned to the voice, and the three Joketsuzoku almost relapsed into their glazed, unresponsive state. This was the first good look they'd gotten at the boy's face, and Shampoo was surer than ever that this one would be hers. In her mind, the boy smiled and walked to her. Out of his mouth, in the most beautiful voice, he proclaimed how he'd fallen in love with her at first sight, and now he would now challenge her for her hand. She envisioned her response, both confident and demure: dropping into a combat stance and attacking. In her mind, the fight was close, but she finally would lose, and he would go to her, and they would be happily married. If one looked at the other Amazons, one would know that the same fantasy played in each of their heads.
However, before these scenarios could finish running they were shattered. Those knowing the affects of Jusenkyo would swear this was impossible, but the pigtailed martial artist changed, right there, ten meters from the nearest water. He shrank from masculine stature and defined muscles into a kawaii, diminutive girl. Her hair changed color to a bright crimson, and her features softened into the curves of a woman. Through the brief moment of change, as though she didn't even notice, the girl smiled.
"Otousan!" she shouted in a very enthusiastic voice. "I'm so glad to see you!"
Suddenly, a dazed martial artist held a bundle of redheaded energy, hugging him tightly. He looked down at the girl, his son turned daughter, with wide eyes.
"I love you, Otousan!" she said with a peck on his cheek. With that, Saotome Genma fell backward into a dead faint.
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Author's Notes (2/22/4):
Continuing from Chapter One, I've revised this one too. Sorry for throwing all this your way so quickly, Poly. I just have a brief note, so here goes:
The dish that Ranma makes in the guide's hut is real, and it's good. I may use Hon-Dashi (instant dashi) to make it, but I used to have it for breakfast at least twice a week. If anybody wants the actual recipe, shoot an email my way and I'll send it to you.
Well, that's about it for the Author's ranting, so until later.