By zoupzuop2
Chapter 4"Look, I'm sorry, ma'am, but we can't accept your band. We're all booked up."
A tall young man was reluctantly turning ANOTHER great band down. What made THIS specific instance so painful was that their redheaded, pig-tailed agent was pretty darn hot. She dressed as if she knew that, too. Her face was, without makeup, finely shaped and colored; her skirt fell down JUST enough, yet still emphasized her hips and legs. The sweatshirt, however, didn't protect so much, since (even with a shirt) he had a clear view of—
"Don't look down there. Freaking pervert."
…Of her fury.
"Look, isn't there anything you can do for us? …Besides stare down my cleavage?" the petite agent inquired with some annoyance.
"Well, yes."
"Really?"
"Yeah, I could look somewhere else."
She groaned, bowed formally and walked away. The man took notice.
She turned around. "Stop looking at my butt."
"Right."
She continued her walk down the sidewalk, her pigtail swishing left-right-left-right with each corresponding step.
When she approached a motor home, she turned towards it, looked left, then right, then knocked three times.
A window rolled down.
"Password."
"Sonic Escapade."
The window rolled up.
The door clicked as she opened it and entered the motor home.
This motor home seemed far more house-like than one would expect: Actual couches and beds were in their "usual" places, a Gamecube and an NES were hooked up to a plasma-screen TV, musical instruments were strewn about, and people were strewn about the place as well. There was a man in the driver's seat chewing orange gum and running his hair through the Mohawk he had; two twins with unruly hair and a blue shirt each were fighting over which Mario-Kart game they should play ("C'mon, man, the original is a CLASSIC!" "Yeah, but Double Dash is more fun!"); a longer-haired woman was reading a manga on soccer, and an even longer-haired man approached the door where our heroine stood.
"Any luck? Or, did they stare down your cleavage again?"
"Shut up. Get the hot water for me."
The girl reading the manga reluctantly put it down, grabbed a kettle, and gave it to her. Our heroine then turned the kettle over herself, as the hot water hit her head and trickled down to the floor from there, which found its way into a drain ("What on earth is THAT doing there?" "Beats Me.").
"Come ON, Ranma, there HAS to be more gigs in Hokkaido than this."
"I know, Tonikko, but they, too, are all booked." Ranma said, swiftly shedding the sweatshirt and skirt. "It's not like I should have to go about gallivanting in girl-form searching for all the gigs. Why don't we have you do it, Kasage?"
"Because YOU, my aquatranssexual friend, have the best butt in here." Tonikko piped in. The whole motor home laughed.
"What are you meaning, that I should go around flashing people for shows?"
"Big deal, I could do that. However, I'm flat." Kasage said almost monotonously as she picked up her manga again.
"Woo-hoo." Ranma said, walking towards his bunk bed. He climbed up, pulled out his keyboard not too far from his bed, and began to play.
Swoop. Swish. Swoop. Swish.
A wood stick swung swiftly through the breeze. Kuno was practicing out in his backyard, against anything he saw. There were a lot of mosquitoes and flies around, so he swung at them, knocking at least one out with each swing without fail. TP-TP-TP-TP, the patting of his feet overrode that of the flies. This near quiet didn't last when his sister came to taunt him.
"Brother, you've better things to do with your time than swat flies. Besides, this 'cur' is--!"
Kuno whirled around to face his sister. "NO! THE MISERABLE CONJURER IS NOT GONE! Don't you see the spell he STILL holds on fairest Akane Tendou? She still spends her days and nights awaiting his return! I MUST SET HER FREE!" And with that, Kuno continued to swing, this time only with forward thrusts but with the same death toll on flies.
"So… swatting flies out of the air is freeing the trollop?"
"My sister." Kuno stopped, trying not to explode with anger. "I am merely training my accuracy. I, the Blue Thunder of Furinkan High, should be able to strike the fool down with fatal accuracy. As of now I am only at LETHAL accuracy." And with that, he continued his work.
"Wow, that's such a difference, brother."
The next few days passed by with the spring breeze. An odd, odd silence crept through the whole of Nerima. April, May and part of June passed by in their usual "Summer Break Time-Snap". In fact, the "normal" way of life seemed to be returning to the common folk, as if those strange pigtailed siblings were never there.
Then came the concert.