Ranma ½: Notes of Sorts

By zoupzuop2

Chapter 13

CAUTION: Implied foul language.

Earlier that year…

"Who's that moron?"

"Check out the freak with the pigtail!"

"Beauty Pageant's that way, pretty man!"

Ranma walked through the jeers as he neared the dueling stage. The multicolored lights nearly blinded him as he approached the Blue keyboard, a Kawai KII connected alongside a red version of the same keyboard, plugged into a MIDI Patch bay with a Korg 05R/W and a small PA system. Around what once was a boxing ring, fans and foes of the contestants gathered to leer and cheer for the last keyboarder standing. Even after three weeks of sneaking out about twice a week to observe these events, the late-night scheduling of these events made Ranma wonder how anyone had the energy to play the sorts of keyboard riffs he'd seen.

"AAAaaaaand it appears we've arried at the final-finals match, a random challenger taking on the 3-week champion, Tsukasa Choreni!" The announcer's voice blared through the smokey little boxing-ring-turned-nightclub, raising more cheers for Tsukasa.

"In the red corner, our champion… an accomplished musician, able to play with one hand in a way many strive to play with two… which gives him one hand free for one-finger salutes! Please welcome… TSUKASAAAAAAAA CHORENIIIIIIIiiiiii!" The audience roared its approval.

"And in the blue corner, our challenger, our, uh, man with the, er, crazy plan… uh… RANMAAAAAAA SAOTOMEEEEEEEE!" More boos and jeers came from the crowd.

One of the judges took note of the challengers' eyes… they seemed to be lacking pupils, and the irises were not much bigger. It was almost as if this meant more to him than it did with some of the other contestants…but why? This was a band audition process, not a fight to the death (those happened OFF-stage). Well… if it mattered enough for his pupils to disappear…

On the stage, Tsukasa cracked his knuckles and smirked.

"Let's see how you handle this, spaz," he leered, and began playing a pattern for Ranma to respond to.

Without a flinch or even so much as a blink of an eye, Ranma played his response back using the same sound-patch.

Tsukasa raised an eyebrow, then laughed. "Alright, you little twerp. I'm just warming up!" he spat, playing a stranger, wilder pattern than before on a square-wave lead. Pausing only for a second, Ranma played the exact pattern right back in return. The audience's usual insults were hushed somewhat, pausing to consider just how this newcomer was actually giving the champion a sudden run for his money (provided he had any).

"What the—? Okay, spin this around at me, huh?" Tuskasa played a darker, more minor pattern on what sounded like the darkest of church organs that ever existed. He began with two hands, then switched it to his right hand, using his left to extend his middle finger upwards towards Ranma. This effort went applauded.

"What's this?" The announcer bellowed. "It looks like our challenger has kept with Tsukasa for two rounds… one more than the previous record!" The crowd ooh'd and ahh'd its assent. "Only one round left before the verdict!"

Ranma took his right hand, flexed it a bit, and used that hand alone to play the first bit of Tsukasa's pattern, adjusting the patch casually with the other hand. Then, approaching the next set of the pattern, his left hand twitched ever so slightly. With one sudden motion, he switched his hands, not losing a single iota of his performance. The audience applauded softly. At the end of the second of the three sets of the pattern, Ranma extended his index fingers and individually played each note of the third set, alternating between hands each time.

As he finished the pattern, the audience went wild.

Tsukasa went wild as well, albeit not as happily as the audience may have. He frothed at the mouth a bit, mouthing silent curses at his opponent as the judges furiously scribbled their notes.

"FINE!" he finally yelled. "No man in this half of Japan can top THIS!"

And with that, his hands blurred across the keyboard, playing a metal ditty with devastating accuracy. His malevolent smile softly shifted to a sick baring of sharpened teeth. The sheer darkness of his pattern twisted and turned with agony and torture, with each note dripping with an evil audio glow. After three minutes of pure, dark speed, Tsukasa stopped as the audience roared its applause.

Tsukasa walked towards Ranma until his face nearly touched his opponent's.

"Give up, you filthy waste of time. You ain't man enough to take me out of here." A ball of spit followed, forming with a loud hock and landing on Ranma's forehead. He then turned around and absorbed all the glory he was being bathed in…

…unfortunately, this would be all the glory he'd be getting this night.

Ranma tapped a few buttons on the keyboard, then settled his hands on the keys. As Tsukasa turned around as Ranma began to play, he nearly dirtied himself from what he saw.

He saw his opponent, eyes glowing—no, his whole BODY seemed to glow—a light red, and a darker, more evil smile than he'd ever had nightmares about nearly consumed Ranma's face. His hair moved all on it's own, as if a wind had entered the room just to perform on that very second…

Ranma's right hand blew through a blinding guitar solo, whil his left supplied a sawtooth base. Both flew across the board, playing as if they had freed themselves from their oppressive arms, and played with a fervor Ranma would barely recall afterwards. Not a single eye in the audience could follow just how fast Ranma was playing, yet, sure enough, he had to be…

The entire crowd and the judges leaned in towards Ranma to see if he could really pull this off. Tsukasa's jaw just about slapped onto the floor.

Even Ranma's head had trouble following his hands. Wh-what the? Am I realy playing this? I've only learned so much music theory—!" nevertheless, his hands continued with their impromptu masterpiece.

Then he switched his hands, playing the same parts in reverse.

Then he played with individual fingers.

Then he…

The tricks were too numerous to follow, but too memorable to forget. All the audience could do was behold this newfound glory and applaud with approval as the song neared its conclusion.

After all… there was still the finale.

Ranma's hands matched each other's patterns on different octaves, with a bit more going on with the sawtooth, accentuating each beat with sheer musical power. The tension filled the room to bursting as he built it up. Higher and higher…

Then…

…the tension released with the finishing chord, using a theatrical-sounding strings patch, which sent the crowd into frenzy.

Only a few minutes later, Ranma was announced the winner, with the audience applauding its massive approval.

"The name's Tonikko."

"Toru." "Turo." "Kasage."

The band members lined up before Ranma to introduce themselves. They were a band of respectable and fairly well-known musicians that had all the material they needed to start… as soon as they could find a keyboard player. They had set up the tournament to make the auditioning process easy, quick, and profitable (each entrant had to pay 500 yen to participate… Ranma had to pay a bit more due to late entry).

"The name's Ranma… Ranma Saotome."

"Nice to meet you, Ranma. Now…" Tonikko straightened up a bit and began the clearly rehearsed run-down. "Are you in this for the love, the money, or the music?"

"Uh, none."

"Self-taught or classically trained?"

"Self-taught."

"Bacon or steak?"

"Yes."

"…" Toni wrote down a few things on his clipboard (wherever he got it from, that is…)

"Okay. Welcome aboard, soldier." Toni faked a salute, which Ranma returned. "This is our ship, the Tourbus-O-Matic-O-Rama." Toni shrugged towards the nearby motorhome. "All equipment goes into the upper storage compartments, which we call the 'attic', unless we're practicing or performing live. You'll sleep in a bunk just above Kasage's, unless you earn the big bed. Got it?"

Ranma didn't flinch. "Get down."

"Huh?"

"GET DOWN!"

Ranma tackled Toni down to the ground, as a small blade swung over where they once stood. Ranma rolled to the side and assumed his stance to observe Tsukasa, panting heavily, frothing and foaming at the mouth, with his eyes red and a small blade reflecting the moonlight into Ranma's eyes.

"YOU STOLE EVERYTHING!" he charged at Ranma, who simply sidestepped his drunken blows and stabs.

"My AUDIENCE!" Another swing, another miss.

"My CAREER!" Swoop, nothing clipped.

"My RESPECT!" he swang again, once more to no avail.

"MY CLUB!!" He drove his blade forward, screaming through the list of exactly what Ranma "stole" as the blade merely clipped Ranma's shirt.

"YOU'RE GONN'A F--KING DIE, YOU F--KING MAGGOT!"

He swung one last time at Ranma, who was obviously unafraid and unfazed. The blow sliced his arm, as the blood welled up black in the moonlight. The band gasped, and even Tsukasa paused at what he had just done.

Ranma said nothing, and simply smirked with his eyes closed.

His aura glew a brighter red than before, visible to the naked eye, and his eyes seemed to glow the same hue. When he spoke, it seemed to fuse anger, determination, and sarcasm into a perfect, suave package.

"So, now that you've cut me, what is it that you plan to do now? Or is that as far as you planned?" he stepped closer and closer to Tsukasa, who clutched his knife in fear.

"STEP ONE, ALWAYS PLAN AHEAD!" Ranma flip-kicked his attacker's hand, dislodging the knife and shattering the hand.

"STEP TWO, STRIKE SURE AT OPENINGS!" Ranma drove his fist through Tsukasa's face, destroying his nose and breaking several teeth audibly.

"STEP THREE, FINISH THE FIGHT QUICKLY AND SURELY." With that, Ranma let his Amaguriken knock his opponent back a few steps, then aimed his palms at the sore loser (now sore in more ways than one).

With his last conscious breath for the next 24 hours or so, Tsukasa bellowed "GO TO HELL, MAGGOT."

An energy formed to match Ranma's size.

"You know NOTHING of Hell."

The ball shot towards Tsukasa at a frightening speed, blowing him through the wall of the club. A small ruckus rose in the club as they discovered the new door, but Tsukasa was clearly out cold.

Ranma, oddly enough, flew backwards as well. He was stopped only by a vending machine, which exploded upon impact with Ranma the human bullet. Fortunately the sodas inside made the explosion all the softer, if a tad stickier and bigger. The twins Toru and Turo ran to help their new bandmate from the wreckage.

Before they got there, some girl with red hair got up from the wreckage.

Wobbling to her feet, she shook off some of the excess soda dripping on her shirt, which was, thankfully, not one of the "see-through-when-wet" variety. The red hair reflected the moon better than the black hair that once inhabited the bandmate's head, as droplets of sodas that adorned her every ligament did the same. As beautiful as she was at that moment, she was also quite pissed off.

"Hot water. Towel. Now. I'll explain."

Suddenly Toni got the idea that a whole lot more of this was to come… nay, this was only the tip of the iceburg.