I claim no ownership rights to any of the works of Rumiko Takahashi, Naoko Takeuchi, or anything in the GURPS Ogre, GURPS Reign of Steel, and GURPS Tales of the Solar Patrol settings published by Steve Jackson Games. Everything else is mine.
Two weeks later:
Ranma sat gingerly on a now-familiar couch in the room that the downtimers had been using as a parlor, where they could all gather at the end of the day before seeking their beds. The redhead's caution wasn't because she doubted the sturdiness of the couch, she suspected it was strong enough to survive the chaos of the Tendo dojo during the years she had spent there. (Often good years, on reflection — true, it hadn't exactly ended well, but they had brought her her lover and big sis, and that made up for a lot.) Rather, the caution was because of her current state.
The costume she'd worn on arrival was gone, and the replacement Queen Serenity had ordered made of the same reactive clothe as the Senshi's costumes was tucked away in her no-space. In its place were worn, tattered, apparently oft-repaired almost-rags in dull brown, green and gray with a hood to cover her fiery hair. And dirty. It was a false picture, of course, the 'rags' were made from the same reflective cloth as her costume, for what it was worth. (The renewed Moon Queendom had reinvented energy weapons and the Jurai had never lost them — the reactive cloth did very well against energy attacks and well enough against impacts but not so well against piercing attacks, like bullets, as even silk.) And of course she, along with the other downtimers, was as dirty as the 'rags'. It wouldn't do to arrive at their destination looking like they'd just stepped out of furos that no one in Japan had had access to for years.
Mind, the assault rifle she'd leaned against the wall beside the couch was clean, if worn, but that was just a different kind of potential mess when one considered gun oil.
All in all, her appearance — all of their appearance — looked decidedly out of place for the understated elegance of the palace, but was just what one would expect of some of the more successful junk rats that were the only survivors haunting the Tokyo of their destination.
At least, their appearance was almost what one would expect, and Ranma frowned at Minako brightly nattering to Ami that the fight was going to be just like what she could remember of the training in their previous life — all automated mechanics that they could unleash their full strength on. The redhead tried to tease out the jarring element in the Senshi's disguise — most of the Inners at least, her sister and brother-in-law were with the Outers and Usa for a private farewell with Usa's parents — then sighed as she realized what was out of place. The hair of all of the Senshi present didn't look as if it had been hacked at with a knife, like his own had been on the training journey with his father before he started wearing it longer in a low ponytail. It was a definite flaw in their disguises, but there was no way she was going to even try to convince the others to fix it. He'd learned his lesson about girls and hair within days of his arrival at the Tendo dojo, when Ryoga's thrown bandana had cut off Akane's long, flowing locks and she'd slugged them both. Besides, after they were done in Tokyo 2072 they would be returning to their own time within seconds of leaving and wouldn't it be fun to try to explain to everyone not in the know what had happened to their hair? We'll just hafta hope that the Tokyo Zonemind doesn't notice if any of its cameras pick us up, or doesn't think it's important, she thought, grimacing.
Akane plopped down beside her on the couch and leaned back without care for her own dirty state. To all appearances, Akane was relaxed, bored even, but Ranma knew better. Her lover was practically vibrating with tension and trying to hide it, but Ranma's hold on her own center was firm where Akane wasn't even trying yet so Ranma was able to pick up the nervousness permeating her ki. Not the proper state for maybe going into a fight. Ranma grinned at her — she knew just the thing to steady her lover down. Or distract her, at least.
"Hey, Akane, Mamoru isn't here yet, practice yer costume change," Ranma ordered.
Akane straightened where she sat. "What, now?" she questioned. "Mamoru — both of them — will be here any minute!"
"Then you'd better hurry," Ranma said, shrugging.
Akane hesitated, but finally stood with a sigh when Ranma motioned her up. Her lover was in sensei-mode, so trying to talk her out of it would be pointless — and if she took too long, the men would arrive and Ranma might still insist.
Stepping away from the couch, Akane settled into a wide stance, took a deep breath, and flashed into motion at Amaguriken speed as she stripped off the filthy 'rags' she was wearing, folded them up, stuffed them into her own no-space, pulled out the new costume the palace servants had made for her piece by piece, and almost got it all on — her fingers slipped on her second boot, and it barely missed Rei as it whipped across the room to slam into the opposite wall.
"Oops," Akane muttered in the abruptly silent room as she walked over to pick up her boot and pull it on, her face flushed crimson. She'd been excited when Ranma had said she'd finally gotten fast enough for the costume change, what girl wouldn't, instant change of clothes! Just the shopping possibilities alone ... But she'd quickly learned why Ranma wasn't all that excited about it, and it wasn't because she wasn't a real girl, whatever her body looked like. Since Amaguriken speed outstripped her ability to adjust on the fly, it could only be used for repetitive motions or katas learned so well they were pure muscle memory — which meant that each outfit was essentially its own separate kata. She'd spent hours over the last week learning the 'katas' for her new outfits, even the one for her new costume needed to be relearned (in spite of looking essentially the same, the new materials changed weight and the way it moved), and she'd thought she had them both down pat. Apparently not.
Ranma was frowning thoughtfully when her red-faced lover rejoined her. She knew Akane was expecting ... well, not a scathing remark, Ranma didn't use the motivate-by-insult method her father had preferred, not anymore, but something. But Ranma's mind was suddenly awash with ideas, cascading from watching Akane's boot fly across the room. The style she was developing for emotion-free ki manipulation had a major flaw, one that she hadn't been able to overcome — a lack of ranged attacks. Something about emotion-laden ki kept it together for the split-second needed to hit the target. The emotion-cleansed technique she'd come up with simply couldn't do it, her every attempt losing all coherence as soon as it left her hands.
And ya got so fixated on fixin' yer moko takabisha that ya never thought about Mousse, an' all the crap he used ta throw at you, idiot! That wasn't entirely fair — between training Akane and learning how to be an Amazon princess (however reluctantly) at a time when the Amazons weren't exactly sure what that meant, anymore, and dealing with everyone adjusting to their new home at Nikko, she hadn't had as much time as she would have liked to explore the new style she was developing.
But she was aware of the obvious now, and thoughts of all the different types and shapes of objects she and Akane could store away — cloth, wood or steel balls and different sizes, discs, boomerangs, explosives even — raced through her mind before she forced the flood of ideas to a halt, remembering Doug-sensei's advice. Training was something done between missions, not during missions. The second was a good way to get distracted, injured, throw off reflexes that were needed right now, maybe get killed or get others killed. Not that it had ever been a problem for Ranma during those two chaotic years, but Doug-sensei had pointed out that there were very few people like her. Besides, it wasn't likely that it would help them much in this fight, anyway — not against armored machines.
So instead of commenting on Akane's performance or babbling as she tried to pass along her ideas all at once, Ranma simply pointed at Akane's rifle leaning against the wall next to her own. "Ya forgot yer weapon," she said, and grinned as Akane's blush deepened.
Ranma focused for a moment on the new symbol centered on Akane's chest now that she was in costume. They'd liked Setsuna's suggestion of the symbolism of Achilles' shield, with its scenes of war and peace — the soldier, and what the soldier fought and died to protect. Unfortunately, while the idea was good, Achilles' shield was just too much to fit into a costume emblem and too obscure for most people to get the reference even if they could pick out the details. So instead, the red hammer was replaced by the kite shield of the Western knight with a lit torch emblazoned on it, and crossed behind the torch a hoe, scroll and sword. Still a bit busy, but nicely symbolizing what they were all about.
Still, as nice as the new costume was it wasn't what she'd be wearing when they left. "So let's see ya switch back without throwin' yer boot across the room."
/\
The goodbyes all said, Ranma stood in front of the gray curtain of Setsuna's portal (this time, at Ranma's request, wide enough for two to go through at once), waiting her and Akane's turn to step through. She was hand-in-hand with her lover (the hands not holding their rifles) and their ki intertwined to allow them to sense each other's emotions while centered and with their own ki pure. Unfortunately, the shared emotions weren't the comfort they usually were, because Akane was less than happy with her. Why couldn't the Outers and the royal party have waited just a few more seconds to arrive, instead of just when Akane had started her costume change? Or why couldn't the two Mamoru's been at the back of the group or even in the middle instead of in front?
Not that their free show had been all that much, just a few flashes of bare skin as Akane spun and twisted in place, the girl moving too fast for anyone to see the details Ranma enjoyed so much. But from the first day she and Ranma had met and the youngest Tendo tried to hit him with a rock (of very impressive size, no one had ever said she wasn't strong), Akane had never been exactly comfortable with showing off her body to the opposite sex. Haruka's offhand thanks for being nice enough to wait until they'd arrived to put on the free strip-tease hadn't helped. Ranma was going to have to figure out some way to properly 'thank' the boyish blonde woman for that comment later.
"No, Diane, you can't come, not yet, you know that! This is going to be dangerous and we'll have two Luna's and Artemis's with us to do their part. You have your kittens to think about now, you and your kittens join us when we get home, as planned."
Behind the pair, Usa continued her week-long off-and-on argument with her own Mau advisor, and in spite of her lover's anger Ranma felt Akane squeeze her hand as a shudder of unease swept through the redhead (not fear, Saotome Ranma wasn't afraid of nothin'!). Ranma knew Diane would be in human form, like all the Mau had been whenever she'd met them, but the she had trouble forgetting what they actually were. Though she'd found the kittens awfully cute, when they'd run into her once after escaping their minders. She smiled faintly as she remembered how she'd sat on the hallway floor, playing with the cute little furballs until one of the babysitters caught up with them. She hadn't realized they were Mau until the harried servant had babbled out her thanks and cut the playtime short. But she'd have lots of playtime later, once Diane and her children rejoined them...
Then Minako vanished into the gray and it was their turn. Ranma already knew that Akane was properly centered and her ki flowing clean or her own emotions, as angry as she was, wouldn't be so fully intertwined with her own — and that anger was fading into amusement in the face of Ranma's eagerness. "Ya ready, Tomboy?" she whispered.
Akane mock-growled, but Ranma knew she knew she wasn't fooling her and the growl turned into a giggle. She whispered back, "Baka. Close your eyes and let's go."
Eyes closed, the two walked forward and Ranma shivered as she felt something change. But she wasn't seeing white through her eyelids, and she cracked open one eye to find the same bleak landscape of mist and bare dirt. Like last time, her link with Akane was keeping the two from being blinded by the ki that saturated the area around the Time Gates.
She sighed in relief and opened her eyes while sending reassurance to Akane through their linked hands. "We're good, now let's see if this works," she said. She pulled Akane to the side, then, out of the way of the Outers and Usa, she took a deep breath, let go of her center and Akane's hand, and tried something she'd never thought of before her first visit to the Time Gates weeks before — she tried to find her center and suppress her ability to sense the ki surrounding her at the same time.
Nothing. That was good — fully centered, and not a hint of outside ki. Okay, Ranma, let's see if you can do this. Before, whenever she'd opened herself up to the ki of those around her, she'd let her sense settle at a default level when she hadn't pushed it as much as possible and perhaps a bit more. This time she needed the barest hint and that was what she got, for the Time Gates, at least. She was awash in ki, as if in the middle of a strong-flowing stream, she could almost feel it pushing against her as it swept past to swirl around the Gates.
Looks like findin' the Gates is never gonna be a problem here, she thought with a grin, just follow the current. Now let's see if I can actually pick up anyone in this mess. She focused on Akane, tried to open her ki sense just a little more, and almost screamed as the universe seemed to explode around her, her sight going white as her senses overloaded — all of them this time, her ears hammered by pure Sound as her skin seemed to catch fire. She instantly dropped out of center and gasped with relief as everything returned to normal, not even any ringing in her ears. Other than her sudden massive headache, she wouldn't have known had happened.
Usagi anxiously asked, "Yasuko, are you all right?" She was kneeling on the ground hold one of Ranma's hands — at eye level.
Ranma realized she was lying propped up in Akane's lap with her head against her shoulder, her lover holding her other hand and everyone else gathered around. She quickly found her center at the same time she reached out for Akane through their joined hands, and silently sent her reassurance that was even true. Her headache was easing by the second. "Yeah, I'm fine, just opened up a bit too much," she assured the rest. "That's gonna take some practice."
"Another time, I think," Setsuna said from where she stood beside her princesses. She smiled at Ranma's disappointed look. "While no time passes while we're here, everyone else might get bored watching you stare at nothing and collapsing every so often," she said, her smile broadening into a teasing grin. "Besides, you might want to practice that at home, where a failure won't try to metaphorically burn out your retinas."
Ranma opened her mouth to object, then paused as she realized Setsuna was right. "Oh, all right," she huffed in disgust, to a round of chuckles and giggles.
Setsuna turned toward the Time Gates, then paused to glance at Usagi. "And Princess, don't forget — no calling Ranma 'Yasuko'. This world's Ranma is a grandfather, and he and their Usagi are perfectly comfortable with their current relationship as friends and allies. Don't blow that up in the middle of a war." When Usagi nodded at the reminder, blushing furiously, Setsuna turned back to the Gates. "Then let's go."