I claim no ownership rights to any of the works of Rumiko Takahashi or Naoko Takeuchi.
At the sound of tapping at the window, Ku Lon looked up from her seat at the central table in the dining room of the Cat Café to see a duck pecking at the glass. She rose to unlock and open the front door, letting in the duck and a purple-haired cat. A quick splash from the still-warm water in the teapot at her table, and her worn-looking heir and Xian Pu's would-be paramour took seats at the table, Duck Boy shooting a concerned look at the girl he loved.
"So, it is over. Did it go as expected?" the Amazon matriarch asked.
The two teenagers nodded, though Xian Pu frowned slightly. "Yes, Great-grandmother, Sword Boy won as expected. But cost was high — very high. Many people bid very much for right to own Ai — Ranma."
Ku Lon frowned slightly. "Do you remember the names of those that placed bids?"
Xian Pu shook her head. "Names not mean anything to Shampoo."
"They probably meant something to Nabiki," Ku Lon mused. "We will have to check with her later, see if this changes our plans."
Then, straightening with a sigh, she added, "But that's for later — after our part in this the Tendos would not appreciate a visit from us today, and we have a restaurant to run. You can give me a full report after the day is over. Unlock the door and take down the sign while I get everything ready in the kitchen."
/oOo\
The Kuno Family's large, muscular steward stepped past the lovely (and very competent) redheaded secretary into his lord's office, closed the door behind him, and bowed deeply. Kuno nodded in response and waved toward a seat in front of his desk, his nervous eagerness carefully hidden behind a stiff, stoic façade. "Morimasa, you come in good time," he said calmly. "I was just finishing the review of your plans for independent contractors to investigate the illegal slave trade in Nerima. It looks good, you have my full approval — use whatever lording resources you need in keeping with the required secrecy.
"Now, how went the auction?"
"It ... it went well, my lord," Morimasa replied carefully. "I was successful in purchasing Ranko, as you commanded, but ... the cost was high — very high. It took every kaneitsuho you ordered made available, and the Lording is going to be struggling to make the payments for many years."
Kuno's chair shot back to bounce off the wall as he sprang to his feet at the news with a shout. "Yes, at last! The sorcerer's pernicious influence is finally fading — Ranko is at last free to take her place by my side, and surely Akane will follow in time as Ranma's absence frees her of his evil enchantments. What matter the price?"
For several minutes the office was silent as Kuno fought to regain his composure. When at last he was able to speak with only a slight tremor, he asked, "And my love of the fiery hair, where is she now?"
"Even now she is being taken to your home, my lord," Morimasa said. Then, as Kuno strode for the door, the steward continued, "Per your instructions, beyond the usual bathing and clothiers, I have given orders that she is to have your personal maid assigned to her service. She will be ready by the time you arrive this evening."
At that, Kuno paused just short of the door. "True, she will need some time to make herself presentable and recover from her travails at the hands of the auction master's servants — she will not welcome my presence just yet, however much her love might now be finally blooming. But ..." Again, he struggled with himself, finally slumping with a sigh. "Very well, Morimasa, your less than subtle hint is well taken. Usagi-chan will probably be more of a balm for Ranko's wounded soul anyway, immediately after such an experience. I shall remain here until my usual hour.
"So, have you completed my instructions with regard to my full use slaves?"
Morimasa nodded. "Yes, my lord. While on my way to report to you, I called the chief accountant and instructed him to initiate the forgiveness of the three temporary slaves' debt and the sale of the permanent slave, with a sterling report for her next prospective owner. Mashita wasn't exactly happy with the unexpected expenditure, but he will do as instructed."
"Excellent," Kuno said. "With the acquisition of the true coin, I have no need for substitutes. Let them get on with their own lives, those that can."
With a roll of his eyes, he added, "Now, why don't you set the investigation in motion while I apply myself to the fascinating résumés of those that would take my father's place as school principal?"
Morimasa surprised himself with a chuckle as he bowed at the dismissal. "Of course, my Lord, I would not keep you from such an interesting diversion."
/oOo\
At a window on an upper floor of the Imperial Palace, a tall man looked out over the gardens below. He was dressed in the imperial regalia, white-haired with age but unbowed by the years. Behind him, a nondescript man, bland to the point of practical invisibility, finished his report of the events at the Neriman slave center. For a time, the room was silent as the Emperor continued to stare unseeing downward. Finally, he turned with a slight sigh. "So, Kuno won after all," he said. "I had hoped he would fail, even if his success plays into our hands, but ..." His voice trailed off, then he gave a faint shrug. "Things are as they are, not as we wish them to be. And overall, this has worked out even better for us than I'd expected. The near-riot will be useful. However, there is one ... oddity."
Egami quirked an eyebrow. "You are referring to Meioh Setsuna's actions, Your Majesty?" the Emperor's Hand asked.
"Yes," the Emperor replied. "We already knew she was wealthier than she seemed, she has to be considering how active she's been in the Shadow World the past several years. But the amount of wealth that she was willing to devote to purchasing Ranko was actually greater than Kuno-dono's top offer."
"True," Egami mused. "If it hadn't been for the way she got bored waiting for Ranko to come up and played with the bidding, she would have won — it was that slave she purchased by accident that stopped her.
"Still, on the surface it simply looks like more of the same," he continued. "We already know she's heavily involved in something mystical, considering the way she's been recruiting high powered martial artists and mages. And considering that a majority of her recruits have never been seen again, whatever is going on is seriously violent. And none of it has been cheap — the support she's provided to surviving dependents alone is enough to indicate that her hidden wealth is at least as great as her known resources. Her attempt to purchase Ranko could simply be another recruitment attempt — Ranma did help blow the tops off of two mountains, after all."
The Emperor said nothing for a time, deep in thought. Finally, he said, "Perhaps, but I don't think so. Meioh has always been careful in the past to keep her public persona and her activities in the shadows well separated. This time ... she has revealed much for no gain. No one of knowledge and sense is going to believe that she was willing to spend that much on a slave simply out of hatred of the Kunos — she's far too astute and practical a businesswoman for that."
Turning from the window, he looked at his Hand. "We will not have time to discuss the full ramifications at this time — the Shogun will be here soon to give the report on the fortifications the Sultan is constructing along his borders with the European Union.
"Keep a close but unnoticed eye on the situation in Nerima — it may well serve our needs without further intervention on our part. Also, take another close look at Meioh's activities, both public and in the shadows. I don't expect her to fail to notice the investigation, but try your best to be unobtrusive. Once you have gotten the surveillance started, set up an appointment to see me again so that we may discuss this more fully."
Egami bowed deeply and quietly left the room as the Emperor turned his gaze back upon the garden, noticing a solitary, unobtrusive gardener pruning one of the trees. An excellent metaphor for the Empire — outwardly serene with the army of gardeners needed to maintain it next to invisible, at least when they are performing their duties properly.
/oOo\
Ukyo shouted into the phone's mouthpiece, "All right, you bastard, if that is your final word, you got it. Your pride and stupidity has cost you your daughter the past twelve years, now you'll just have to do without a son!" She slammed the receiver down on its cradle. Whirling from the counter, she snatched her battle spatula from off her back and with a scream split the nearest table in half. Within minutes, there wasn't a whole item of furniture left in her restaurant's tiny dining room, the floor covered with splintered and chopped pieces of tables and chairs.
Leaving the battle spatula imbedded in the hacked counter separating the dining room from the kitchen with her bandoleer of throwing spatulas draped over the handle, Ukyo took one last look around the devastated restaurant, tacked up a folded note with Konatsu's name written on the outside beside the order window, and walked out of the devastated restaurant without a backward glance.
/oOo\
Kasumi, worn-looking with eyes reddened from crying, sighed as the sound of another knock on the front door echoed through the house. The steady stream of offers of support and regrets from all the well-wishers, both students from Furinkan and adults from all over Nerima, were gratifying, but the effort to appear calm and collected was weighing her down. Walking from the kitchen, she opened the front door and froze, gasping at the sight of the former 'cute fiancée' covered in splinters and seat stuffing with tears running down her face. "Oh my! Ukyo, whatever happened to you?"
"I'm so sorry to be bothering you right now," Ukyo managed to choke out, "but is Genma home?"
"Of course, please come in," the eldest Tendo answered without hesitation, stepping out of the way.
A few minutes later, Ukyo knelt at the family room table across from the last known living master of Anything Goes and his wife, her eyes focused on the table top. "My apologies for disturbing you on such a day," she said softly, "but when I returned home from the ... from the auction, I called my father."
She fell silent for a moment, and Genma waited patiently as she struggled for control. Finally, Ukyo continued, "When I refused to try to kill you and Ranma, he declared me ronin and forbade me to use either of the family arts. Is ... is the offer of adoption and becoming your student still open?"
"Of course," Genma responded instantly.
Nodoka nodded her agreement. Softly, she added, "We will place you on the family register as our daughter first thing tomorrow. Today, please join us and the Tendos as we offer prayers at our shrine for the wellbeing of my son."
Looking up, the teary-eyed girl nodded and smiled tremulously. "Of course, I would be honored."
/oOo\
By Tman
Ryoga Hibiki wandered, paying little attention to his surroundings, and pondered.
He had a lot to ponder.
He'd finally made his way back to Nerima, found his way to the Tendo Dojo again, and there immediately found an atmosphere more befitting a wake.
He'd then immediately jumped to the conclusion that Ranma was somehow responsible and demanded to know where that miscreant was, and what he'd done to cause so much sadness, and volunteered set the villain right.
He was only partially, not even half, right.
Being machine-gun slapped by Akane, Nabiki, Kasumi, Ukyo, and Ranma's mother had ended his tirade fast. And he was grateful afterwards that they'd shown mercy enough to sit the Lost Boy down and correct his misassumption, with a minimum of additional bloodshed. The fact that Genma had been flexing his muscles in ways that suggested some painful powerful martial arts techniques ready to be unleashed, the gleam on Nodoka's drawn family honor blade and Ukyo's naginata (what had happened to her battle spatula?), and the edge in the voices of the Tendo daughters as they got him quickly up to speed had cut his objections — though fortunately not his throat— short. Then they'd left him to cool off and digest what he'd learned.
It was enough to make him get up and wander around and out. It was that big.
A part of Ryoga Hibiki tried to rejoice. Wasn't his longtime nemesis, that archfiend, that enemy of women, bane of Akane's life, his tormentor and cause of all his woe, going to his just deserts? Losing his freedom for possibly all time? Losing the very Art he cheated with, that he flouted in Ryoga's face every time they met, that he lived and breathed ... forced to give it up along with his free will? Losing his manhood? Forced to give herself up to the unwanted attentions of a man she hated? Being violated as a matter of course, and there was nothing she could do about it? Didn't that match as perfect a description of hell, as close as mortals could make it?
Shouldn't Ryoga be cheering this? Working to make sure the new status quo went unchallenged? Wasn't this the chance he'd been waiting for? An open path to his happiness?
Only, Ranma was gone, and Akane was still unhappy.
And from the way she and her sister spoke and acted, he just knew that, whatever else Ranma might have done in the past, he was not only forgiven, he was honored and they would not see anyone defame him.
That defamer of the fair Akane, that enemy of women, that smug arrogant blowhard that made Akane cry? That cocksure bane of my existence? Couldn't anybody see — ?
Ryoga squashed that bubble of outrage when he realized he was beginning to sound a lot like Kuno, and as Ryoga thought more and more about the situation, the more he realized that was not someone he wanted to be like.
Kuno ... the one who, in Ryoga's absence, had forced the Tendo patriarch to choose between his family and buying time with his life. An honorable choice, but it had required that Akane deliver the final stroke to her father. Ryoga hadn't come back in time before or after then. He hadn't been there to offer solace, or come up with another plan to spare them any, or further, grief.
Ranma had, and Ranma had made the decision, made the penultimate sacrifice to match. Ranma had been there.
Ryoga hadn't.
Oh, sure, he couldn't, not like Ranma had. What could he offer the Kunos? A free pork sandwich? But still, he hadn't had the opportunity to know if he could have made that choice to give up his own safety and security, his own very being, for the Tendo daughters.
Once again, Ranma had trumped Ryoga.
This wasn't going to stand. This couldn't stand. How could he prove himself the more powerful, the more honorable, the better man, if, simply by suffering abjectly, Ranma would always beat anything that Ryoga could conceivably do?
Ryoga began to appreciate what power a martyr had.
Ryoga could only prove himself against his rival in person, with both on an equal ground, and that was impossible as long as she was a slave. But that meant Ryoga had to find some way to end that particular problem. Then, and only then, could they settle matters as they should be settled.
Oh, face it; Ranma's the closest thing I've got to a friend! True, he's the sort of the friend I want punch out every time I see him, but without him life seems somewhat less ... interesting.
No, his previous outrage was a thing of the past. He'd been slowly coming to the realization that he wasn't as intent on his rival's death and destruction as he thought. This latest development, however, was a real game-changer, a fundamental shift in the balance of power between Nerima's martial artists. As far as Ryoga was concerned, Kuno had well and truly cheated with his actions, had shed very real blood by his actions, however indirectly, and hurt people Ryoga and Ranma both held in their affections. Against that crime, Ryoga's own claims of compromised happiness paled in comparison.
No more spur-of-the-moment teaming up with Kuno to beat up on Ranma, no more school yard feuding, no more false alliances; that was another thing of the past. It was time to drop the old animosity, draw his line in the sand, take a stand, and start living up to his own claims of Justice and Honor.
Pausing on the steps of a large building, Ryoga punched his hands in the air and screamed to the heavens. "THIS ISN'T OVER, RANMA! I'LL FREE YOU FROM KUNO'S SLAVERY! I WILL FREE YOU FROM HIS VILE CLUTCHES! I WILL RESTORE YOUR FREEDOM! I, RYOGA HIBIKI, WILL BREAK THE CHAINS! THIS I SWEAR!"
Dropping his fists, he took a deep breath and gathered himself, and then became aware of being watched. He nervously looked around and met the rapt gazes of dozens, perhaps hundreds, of all races of people.
Self-consciously, Ryoga realized he was the center of attention of a substantial crowd of onlookers.
Enough people in the throng of people visiting the Washington D.C. Mall that day knew Japanese to understand what the young travel-worn man on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial (raised by the Freedmen's Bureau to honor the President felled by a diehard racist assassin) had just declared to the world. Their cheering ignited applause from the rest of the onlookers, sensing that some momentous event had just happened, that continued to swell in volume and enthusiasm until the monuments and buildings themselves echoed the sentiment back.