I have some pretty sick readers.
Glad to have you aboard ^-^V
Now, this is where most people would write which couple is at the head
of the "race". I won't do that. I never do that. You'll just have to
wait and see as to the couples that come out. If it's the couple you
favor, kudos to you. If not... better luck next time.
I don't like Akane, but I don't really want to have all the flamers on
my ass, so I just made her a semi-bitch. She's still conceited though.
I am aware Aya is OOC here. He's aware of it too, and it's confusing
him. ^-^V
Oh, yeah: Hajime means 'begin fight' in karate.
False Identity
Chapter Seven: Hajime
Li Xiang
The trail of broken underbrush and shreds of cotton cloth caught by
said brush ended abruptly at the base of a large tree. Gouges in the
bark were testament to exactly where the perpetrator had gone.
Jei frowned, staring up into the branches where, only a few short
minutes ago, a bird had screamed its death to the world. Apparently,
Kitty had been hungry.
The boy's frown turned into a scowl as he fit his own fingers into the
ripped up bark, hauling himself up. Just as he was crawling up onto a
branch to find his Kitty, a blur shot through the leaves. It slammed
into his chest, knocking him from the branch to the ground.
The golden-eyed youth failed to make the connection between something--
or someone-- landing on him, and what should have, but wasn't, pain
upon impact with the ground. Shoving the younger boy off of him via
thrusting his hand into the other's face, Jei's hand came back slick
with crimson wetness.
"Christ..." as much as the boy had a fascination with blood, he wasn't
in the mood to deal with his mother freaking on him over it. With a
sigh, he moved to wipe the blood off on a leaf.
However, a certain "neko-fied" eight year old had other ideas, and
caught Jei's hand between his teeth.
"Kitty. Let go," gold eyes flashed irritably, "I've gotta wipe the
blood off."
Kitty refused, instead brushing his tongue across the part of Jei's
hand in his mouth, lapping at the blood.
---
Ranma awoke to the taste of blood tingling on the tip of his tongue. It
was his own-- he'd tasted the sharp, metallic tang many times over the
years. He'd also tasted the, slightly different, tangs of others' blood
as well: his father's, from a sucker punch when his father's knuckles
had been split; Ryouga's from biting through the skin, during junior
high, when the larger boy had grabbed him in a full nelson; and, of
course, Jei-sama's, eight years earlier.
He-- no wait, she-- pushed herself into lotus from her futon. It had
been quite sometime since he'd awoken, peacefully, in female form. It
would be longer still until he could assume his natural form for the
majority of his time.
After approximately three minutes worth of meditation, Ranma began to
get antsy. He'd been taught to meditate, years and years ago, to
control his then, periodic and out of control rages, as well as his
--at times-- all-encompassing fears of nothing. His father hadn't
liked the idea of mediation all that much, and had attacked him every
time he tried to do so. Then again, that right there might have been
the part of the problem of his rages.
And then, there was Nerima, where he was being attacked, night and day.
No time to rest, let alone be able to mediate. Not yet having been
interrupted was making her nervous.
The dawn's light was filtering in through the window shade, splashing
across her temporary roommate. Today, they would finish clearing out
the spare room. It had been used to hold various items, including, of
all things, three broken crossbows, seven yards worth of monofilament
wire, and eighteen separate soccer balls. There were other things in
there-- some nearly destroyed clothing that had been tossed in there
instead of being thrown out, the odd book, a couple sets of weights and
other such items.
They'd removed a good deal of it the other day, but not enough for
Ranma to have slept in there. Once they finished cleaning out the room,
Ranma would be able to move the futon out of Aya's room, and into the
spare. Of course, Ranma would be required to work for the Koneko while
she stayed-- it was one of Aya's stipulations to letting her live with
them.
Finally sighing in disgust, Ranma flipped from full lotus to her feet
in a rather amazing, if pointless, feat of flexibility. She had
admitted to herself that it was unlikely that she'd be able to calm her
mind enough to get into the state of mind needed to reach her center,
and settled for pulling her red Chinese shirt on over the undershirt
she'd worn the day before.
"I need more clothing," she grumbled half-heartedly, taking a tentative
sniff of her shirt. It smelt like sweat, and, while Ranma had little to
no feminine modesty, her mother had pounded into her head that women
and body order did not mix.
She pulled the dragon whisker from her hair, grasping it in her teeth
as she ran her fingers through her hair in an attempt to comb it out,
before giving it up as hopeless. The hair had tangled in her sleep, the
pigtail having not been tied as tight as it normally was. The whisker
came from between her teeth to knit around her fingers as she padded
out of Aya's room in search of a brush.
Not all that long later, Ranma was seated on the kitchen counter,
munching on the last of an orange she'd liberated from the cupboards,
while attempting the apparently impossible. She was trying to french
braid her hair. She couldn't remember who had shown her the picture,
only that it was an effective way to keep her hair from falling loose
of the low pigtail at the nape of her neck.
"Dammit, why can't I do this!?"
"A mirror might help," came Omi's voice, and Ranma's gaze flickered
over to him for a moment, before turning to stare at the counter beside
her, "Look. I'm sorry about yesterday. I... guess I didn't really think
about how you might feel about me badmouthing your friends."
"You can badmouth them all you want, because I don't have friends. I
have people who want to kill me, people who want to marry me, and
people who like me, but will probably want to kill me at some point in
time," was the sharp retort, and Ranma focused inwards on herself to
attempt the braid again. Omi sighed, walking over to her. Ranma shifted
so she wouldn't have to look at the older boy-- this had been the
reaction Omi had been aiming for, snagging the ruby red strands of hair
from her fingers, and began to knit them into the style she'd been
attempting by herself. Ranma's back stiffened in anger.
"Relax, Ranko. I've done this before," he blushed slightly, remembering
how Ouka had tricked him into french braiding ninety percent of her
friends' hair, "It's not as hard as you think, but it helps to have a
mirror, if you're doing it for yourself."
When Omi tied the braid off the with dragon's whisker-- it was the only
thing to tie hair with near by, seeing as all Yohji's hair ties were in
his room-- he dropped the braid to smack lightly against the back of
the girl's neck. She turned to face the blue eyed boy with a tight
smile, "I... well... thank you... for helping me..." as he started to
smile, her expression turned rather icy, "But that doesn't mean I've
forgotten that you tried to keep me and Jei-sama apart. I don't bother
you, I expect you to not bother me, got it?"
"I... yes, I understand," Omi ran through a list of curses in his mind.
He'd been hoping that being nice to her would make her stop being quite
so cold to him. As such, he'd gotten up earlier than usual to start
clearing out the spare room for her.
And that would be his escape now, from the chilling eyes focused on
him, "Ah... I'm going to go finish cleaning out the spare room."
"You do that."
The assassin fled the room, and the martial artist pursed her lips,
leaning back against the cabinets over the counter she was still seated
on. Crossing her arms beneath her breasts-- still, even after two years,
it felt funny to have that weight seated on her limbs-- she gave an
irritated sigh. Ranma focused her icy gaze at the floor, and felt the
tension being drawn out of her. She could honestly understand that Omi
was trying to get her forgiveness.
The problem was, that he'd hit on one of the few things that Ranma did
not forgive. Jei-sama. Just as he'd broken some of the "given" rules of
his life in Nerima by hitting Nabiki for her thoughtless jest of Jei a
mere week ago, he would break a few more and not forgive Omi nor Yohji
for their attempts to... "rescue" her.
She didn't know how long, exactly she'd been sitting there, only coming
around to realize time had passed when someone cleared their throat.
Aya stood in front of her, staring her down with a mixture of
curiosity and annoyance.
"Get down."
Ranma smirked at the older man, "Hmmm... no."
The violet eyed assassin's lips thinned, eyes narrowing sharply at the
refusal, "Get off the counter, Ranko." He was being unusually nice to
her, he noted to himself with a bit of detached amusement in his own
mental voice. Why?
"Why should I?"
The redheaded man gave her a flat stare, and she responded with a
cheeky grin. Their staring contest was held for five or so more minutes
before the violet eyed one's hands lashed out to catch Ranko by her
waist and haul her bodily off the counter. She gave a short, laughing
shriek as fingers came in contact with the ticklish skin of her
stomach-- one of the things she absolutely hated about her female form.
She was undeniably ticklish.
"Dammit, Aya! Put me down!"
Aya's lips twitched, and he uncharacteristically carried her over to
the table to drop her in a seat, "Sit here, not on the counters."
In the doorway of the kitchen, Ken and Omi stared wide-eyed at the
pair, before exchanging a set of shocked looks. That was not something
they had expected to see.
---
Noon. Lunch.
Ranma's stomach growled, and she set the latest set of plants she'd
been ordered to carry around on a counter, and bounded across the store
to give Ken a set of pleading, puppy-dog eyes. It was a technique she'd
perfected, specifically for getting food out of unsuspecting teenage
males.
Ken, being one of said unsuspecting teenage males, turned to her and
got a full face of the cute-as-a-button-puppy-dog-eyes glittering at
him. It was almost worse than the group of fangirls that normally
surrounded him-- that were absent this lunch hour, something he was
thankful of. Many of the near-by schools had started regulating who got
to go on and off campus during lunch hours, considering how many girls
left the grounds to storm the Koneko no Sumi Ie.
"Keeeeen, I'm hungry."
He winced at the petulant tone in her voice-- he could understand why
she wasn't bothering Aya again: he wouldn't have taken to well to her
whining, "There's nothing I can do about that, Ranko."
"But I'm hungry," she forced a bit more of a whine into her speech,
"and I want something to eat..."
"There is a coffee shop across the street, Ranko."
The whine and the look vanished, "Oh for... I want real food, baka."
"Ask Aya."
"He's bus--"
"Ranko!"
The redheaded teenaged girl sighed, and gave Ken a small wave,
resolving to figure out exactly how Ken was immune to her puppy-dog
eyes. She turned towards the counter, where Aya was standing, hand
lightly resting on the edge, "You bellowed?"
"You can go out and find food," the pointed look he gave her told her
quite clearly that she needed to lower the decibels the next time she
whined about being hungry, "after you deliver these."
Three blood red roses were arranged with a set of shockingly purple
toned blue bells, wrapped in a shimmery paper. It rested on the counter
where Aya had, obviously, put it together. She picked it up, rather
delicately, and gave her "boss" an odd look.
"Delivery? Me? Aya, I haven't even been here for twenty-four hours!"
"Yohji, Ken and myself are busy with other things. This is the
address," the sheet was passed to her. Ranko shook her head, looking
down at the sheet. That was practically on the other side of the
district!
"And I can get lunch after I deliver these?"
"Yes."
Her lips quirked, and she sketched a small bow before shucking off the
apron she'd been forced into that morning. Then, she was gone, vanished
out the door with a speed the assassin had only ever seen in Schuldich,
before. Yohji stepped out from behind a display of plants, "I'm going
to follow her, Aya. Make sure she's not going to get into any trouble."
"Aa."
---
"A restaurant?" Ranma scratched the back of her head with the hand not
occupied holding the bouquet. She'd been expecting a house, or an
apartment, or, hells, even the hospital. Not a restaurant. Shrugging to
herself, she prepared to enter when a voice caught her attention.
"Would you calm down?" Attention caught, Ranma turned to face it, and
found herself ducking into the alcove made by the door. One of the few
people she'd rather not see was standing not to far away-- Akane, his
fiancee. She was wearing a rather tasteful blue dress, not one he'd
seen before. Not that it mattered, Ranma couldn't really care less
about the girl now: he had Jei-sama back, after all.
With her as an uncomfortable looking Daisuke; Hiroshi wasn't around,
and Daisuke was actually dressed up nicely. Daisuke was the one to
speak, "I'm sorry Akane-chan, it's just... with you being engaged to
Ranma..."
"Who cares about the pervert?" the short haired girl snorted, "Daisuke,
look at me. It's been three years!"
"Three and a half."
"And you still doubt me?" Akane shook her head, "Never mind. Where are
you taking me?"
Daisuke made a motion to the restaurant that Ranma was using to hide
herself, "Welcome to the Royal Dragon, Akane," he blushed a bit, "I
made an order to get you flowers... but they're not here yet."
"Flowers?" a sweet smile crossed her lips and she hugged the boy tight,
"I bet they're just beautiful."
"Personally," Ranma called, "I'm not one for roses and blue bells."
Both boy and girl froze as Ranma sauntered out of the shadows, smirking
and carrying the bouquet. She bowed, handing them to Akane, "Consider
this a gift. The engagement is off, Tendou."
The girl in blue flushed a deep crimson suddenly, "But... I thought...
you said... and the wedding...!"
The redhead flicked the metal tag hanging from the leather collar
around her neck, but said nothing, leaving Tendou Akane stuttering on
the sidewalk; pride wounded. With a shrug, she turned on her heel and
knit her fingers behind her head, humming some song she'd heard on an
anime. With the engagement to Akane off, maybe Ryouga would stop being
such an ass?
A bare block later, that thought was derailed by a familiar, and not
all that unwelcomed shout, "RANMA! PREPARE TO DIE!"
---
Yohji cursed. He hadn't been close enough when following her to hear
what she'd said to the couple outside the restaurant, but he'd doubted
anyone in Tokyo had missed the large boy's shout. Although... why was
he calling her 'Ranma'? Omi had said that was her brother's name. Maybe
he got them messed up?
Yohji, of course, had never actually seen a picture of Ranma.
---
As the dust began to settle from the lost boy's entrance-- bakusei
tenketsu had been used on the ground in front of Ranma-- the street was
quickly vacated. Just because they were no longer in Nerima did not
mean people didn't know when something bad was going to happen.
Tokyo just had that aura after all. Although, usually in the weirder
districts, like Nerima, or Juuban.
"Hey Ryouga, long time no see."
Ranma was standing, perfectly balanced as always, atop the railing that
separated street from sidewalk. There were a few tears in her shirt and
pants from flying debris, but no actual injuries to herself. She'd been
through the attack enough times that it didn't really hurt her anymore.
Her opponent shot her a dark glare, opening his mouth to say something,
before the realization sunk in.
"You're dry."
Ranma blinked. That wasn't how things were supposed to happen. Ryouga
was supposed to get angry and attack her for no good reason, and they'd
fight, cause some mass property damage, maybe hurt someone (hopefully,
Ryouga himself) in the process, before Ryouga got lost and vowed to get
his revenge on some later date, all the while calling Ranma a coward.
Ryouga was not supposed to comment on whether or not Ranma was wet or
dry.
"... yeah, so?"
"And you're female."
Was that what this was about? "Again: Yeah, so?"
A nasty little smirk crossed his rival's face, "Are you... trapped?"
The redhead rolled her eyes, "No. Yes. Maybe?"
"..." Ryouga gave her a look, and Ranma held up her hands, opening her
mouth to respond defensively. Fortunately for the near by businesses,
who would have been destroyed in the fight which would have resulted
from Ranma's response, someone who hadn't vacated the premises,
responded for her.
Unfortunately for him, he dug himself deeper into the hole he was
already in.
"Hey Ranko, who's your friend?"
Her eye twitched, and she gave Yohji a dour look, before growling,
"Kudou. Were you following me?"
The brunette suddenly seemed to remember that 'Ranko' didn't like him
all that much. Or at all, for that matter. He tried his 'lady-charmer'
grin, "Oh, come on, Ranko! Schwartz is still after you and--"
"Schwartz?" Ryouga interrupted, turning an rather interested gaze on
Ranma, "My bastard of an uncle's bodyguards?"
This time, both Yohji and Ranma gave the lost boy an odd look, and he
blushed brightly, "I... shouldn't have said that."
"Why's that?" Ranma shuddered, she and Yohji were speaking in tandem,
now. She'd rather that they didn't. In fact, she'd rather that Yohji
would just go away, or better yet, incite a fight between her and
Ryouga and get caught in the middle. Therefore, he'd get grievously
injured, locked up in his room, and she wouldn't have to see him!
It was a wonderful plan. Now, just how to pull it off...?
Ryouga scratched the back of his head, "Reiji-- that's my uncle-- cast
my mother out of the clan when she married my father. If dad hadn't
taught mom his family's style of martial arts, she would have been dead
on my uncle's orders."
"Man, Ryouga, your family's more fucked up than mine," the redhead
announced. She held her breath, hoping that the line would send Ryouga
off into one of his rages. A spark of anger lit in his eyes, but it
wasn't enough. Not yet, at least...
"Shut up... 'Ranko'," the name was sneered, and Yohji gave the pair an
odd look as Ranma flushed brightly, and Ryouga gave a triumphant smirk,
"Schwartz has tried to kill off my whole family under Reiji's orders,
even me. That one eyed freak with the--" Ryouga promptly found himself
on his ass, staring up into the enraged eyes of one gender-bending
martial artist, who was straddling his chest.
"Don't you ever, _ever_, call Jei-sama a freak again," she hissed, the
white of pure, raw ki flickering over her fingers, almost hesitantly
leaping forwards to curl into small, pearl claws, before returning to a
pure energy form.
Ryouga's eyes lit with the oh-so-familiar look of rage, hurtling Ranma
off of him, "I should have known you'd be in with a _freak_ like him!"
Ranma gave him less than a second before she was pounding into him,
fists flying at ameguriken speeds, hissing and spitting as her mind
gave into the Cat.
End
Glad to have you aboard ^-^V
Now, this is where most people would write which couple is at the head
of the "race". I won't do that. I never do that. You'll just have to
wait and see as to the couples that come out. If it's the couple you
favor, kudos to you. If not... better luck next time.
I don't like Akane, but I don't really want to have all the flamers on
my ass, so I just made her a semi-bitch. She's still conceited though.
I am aware Aya is OOC here. He's aware of it too, and it's confusing
him. ^-^V
Oh, yeah: Hajime means 'begin fight' in karate.
False Identity
Chapter Seven: Hajime
Li Xiang
The trail of broken underbrush and shreds of cotton cloth caught by
said brush ended abruptly at the base of a large tree. Gouges in the
bark were testament to exactly where the perpetrator had gone.
Jei frowned, staring up into the branches where, only a few short
minutes ago, a bird had screamed its death to the world. Apparently,
Kitty had been hungry.
The boy's frown turned into a scowl as he fit his own fingers into the
ripped up bark, hauling himself up. Just as he was crawling up onto a
branch to find his Kitty, a blur shot through the leaves. It slammed
into his chest, knocking him from the branch to the ground.
The golden-eyed youth failed to make the connection between something--
or someone-- landing on him, and what should have, but wasn't, pain
upon impact with the ground. Shoving the younger boy off of him via
thrusting his hand into the other's face, Jei's hand came back slick
with crimson wetness.
"Christ..." as much as the boy had a fascination with blood, he wasn't
in the mood to deal with his mother freaking on him over it. With a
sigh, he moved to wipe the blood off on a leaf.
However, a certain "neko-fied" eight year old had other ideas, and
caught Jei's hand between his teeth.
"Kitty. Let go," gold eyes flashed irritably, "I've gotta wipe the
blood off."
Kitty refused, instead brushing his tongue across the part of Jei's
hand in his mouth, lapping at the blood.
---
Ranma awoke to the taste of blood tingling on the tip of his tongue. It
was his own-- he'd tasted the sharp, metallic tang many times over the
years. He'd also tasted the, slightly different, tangs of others' blood
as well: his father's, from a sucker punch when his father's knuckles
had been split; Ryouga's from biting through the skin, during junior
high, when the larger boy had grabbed him in a full nelson; and, of
course, Jei-sama's, eight years earlier.
He-- no wait, she-- pushed herself into lotus from her futon. It had
been quite sometime since he'd awoken, peacefully, in female form. It
would be longer still until he could assume his natural form for the
majority of his time.
After approximately three minutes worth of meditation, Ranma began to
get antsy. He'd been taught to meditate, years and years ago, to
control his then, periodic and out of control rages, as well as his
--at times-- all-encompassing fears of nothing. His father hadn't
liked the idea of mediation all that much, and had attacked him every
time he tried to do so. Then again, that right there might have been
the part of the problem of his rages.
And then, there was Nerima, where he was being attacked, night and day.
No time to rest, let alone be able to mediate. Not yet having been
interrupted was making her nervous.
The dawn's light was filtering in through the window shade, splashing
across her temporary roommate. Today, they would finish clearing out
the spare room. It had been used to hold various items, including, of
all things, three broken crossbows, seven yards worth of monofilament
wire, and eighteen separate soccer balls. There were other things in
there-- some nearly destroyed clothing that had been tossed in there
instead of being thrown out, the odd book, a couple sets of weights and
other such items.
They'd removed a good deal of it the other day, but not enough for
Ranma to have slept in there. Once they finished cleaning out the room,
Ranma would be able to move the futon out of Aya's room, and into the
spare. Of course, Ranma would be required to work for the Koneko while
she stayed-- it was one of Aya's stipulations to letting her live with
them.
Finally sighing in disgust, Ranma flipped from full lotus to her feet
in a rather amazing, if pointless, feat of flexibility. She had
admitted to herself that it was unlikely that she'd be able to calm her
mind enough to get into the state of mind needed to reach her center,
and settled for pulling her red Chinese shirt on over the undershirt
she'd worn the day before.
"I need more clothing," she grumbled half-heartedly, taking a tentative
sniff of her shirt. It smelt like sweat, and, while Ranma had little to
no feminine modesty, her mother had pounded into her head that women
and body order did not mix.
She pulled the dragon whisker from her hair, grasping it in her teeth
as she ran her fingers through her hair in an attempt to comb it out,
before giving it up as hopeless. The hair had tangled in her sleep, the
pigtail having not been tied as tight as it normally was. The whisker
came from between her teeth to knit around her fingers as she padded
out of Aya's room in search of a brush.
Not all that long later, Ranma was seated on the kitchen counter,
munching on the last of an orange she'd liberated from the cupboards,
while attempting the apparently impossible. She was trying to french
braid her hair. She couldn't remember who had shown her the picture,
only that it was an effective way to keep her hair from falling loose
of the low pigtail at the nape of her neck.
"Dammit, why can't I do this!?"
"A mirror might help," came Omi's voice, and Ranma's gaze flickered
over to him for a moment, before turning to stare at the counter beside
her, "Look. I'm sorry about yesterday. I... guess I didn't really think
about how you might feel about me badmouthing your friends."
"You can badmouth them all you want, because I don't have friends. I
have people who want to kill me, people who want to marry me, and
people who like me, but will probably want to kill me at some point in
time," was the sharp retort, and Ranma focused inwards on herself to
attempt the braid again. Omi sighed, walking over to her. Ranma shifted
so she wouldn't have to look at the older boy-- this had been the
reaction Omi had been aiming for, snagging the ruby red strands of hair
from her fingers, and began to knit them into the style she'd been
attempting by herself. Ranma's back stiffened in anger.
"Relax, Ranko. I've done this before," he blushed slightly, remembering
how Ouka had tricked him into french braiding ninety percent of her
friends' hair, "It's not as hard as you think, but it helps to have a
mirror, if you're doing it for yourself."
When Omi tied the braid off the with dragon's whisker-- it was the only
thing to tie hair with near by, seeing as all Yohji's hair ties were in
his room-- he dropped the braid to smack lightly against the back of
the girl's neck. She turned to face the blue eyed boy with a tight
smile, "I... well... thank you... for helping me..." as he started to
smile, her expression turned rather icy, "But that doesn't mean I've
forgotten that you tried to keep me and Jei-sama apart. I don't bother
you, I expect you to not bother me, got it?"
"I... yes, I understand," Omi ran through a list of curses in his mind.
He'd been hoping that being nice to her would make her stop being quite
so cold to him. As such, he'd gotten up earlier than usual to start
clearing out the spare room for her.
And that would be his escape now, from the chilling eyes focused on
him, "Ah... I'm going to go finish cleaning out the spare room."
"You do that."
The assassin fled the room, and the martial artist pursed her lips,
leaning back against the cabinets over the counter she was still seated
on. Crossing her arms beneath her breasts-- still, even after two years,
it felt funny to have that weight seated on her limbs-- she gave an
irritated sigh. Ranma focused her icy gaze at the floor, and felt the
tension being drawn out of her. She could honestly understand that Omi
was trying to get her forgiveness.
The problem was, that he'd hit on one of the few things that Ranma did
not forgive. Jei-sama. Just as he'd broken some of the "given" rules of
his life in Nerima by hitting Nabiki for her thoughtless jest of Jei a
mere week ago, he would break a few more and not forgive Omi nor Yohji
for their attempts to... "rescue" her.
She didn't know how long, exactly she'd been sitting there, only coming
around to realize time had passed when someone cleared their throat.
Aya stood in front of her, staring her down with a mixture of
curiosity and annoyance.
"Get down."
Ranma smirked at the older man, "Hmmm... no."
The violet eyed assassin's lips thinned, eyes narrowing sharply at the
refusal, "Get off the counter, Ranko." He was being unusually nice to
her, he noted to himself with a bit of detached amusement in his own
mental voice. Why?
"Why should I?"
The redheaded man gave her a flat stare, and she responded with a
cheeky grin. Their staring contest was held for five or so more minutes
before the violet eyed one's hands lashed out to catch Ranko by her
waist and haul her bodily off the counter. She gave a short, laughing
shriek as fingers came in contact with the ticklish skin of her
stomach-- one of the things she absolutely hated about her female form.
She was undeniably ticklish.
"Dammit, Aya! Put me down!"
Aya's lips twitched, and he uncharacteristically carried her over to
the table to drop her in a seat, "Sit here, not on the counters."
In the doorway of the kitchen, Ken and Omi stared wide-eyed at the
pair, before exchanging a set of shocked looks. That was not something
they had expected to see.
---
Noon. Lunch.
Ranma's stomach growled, and she set the latest set of plants she'd
been ordered to carry around on a counter, and bounded across the store
to give Ken a set of pleading, puppy-dog eyes. It was a technique she'd
perfected, specifically for getting food out of unsuspecting teenage
males.
Ken, being one of said unsuspecting teenage males, turned to her and
got a full face of the cute-as-a-button-puppy-dog-eyes glittering at
him. It was almost worse than the group of fangirls that normally
surrounded him-- that were absent this lunch hour, something he was
thankful of. Many of the near-by schools had started regulating who got
to go on and off campus during lunch hours, considering how many girls
left the grounds to storm the Koneko no Sumi Ie.
"Keeeeen, I'm hungry."
He winced at the petulant tone in her voice-- he could understand why
she wasn't bothering Aya again: he wouldn't have taken to well to her
whining, "There's nothing I can do about that, Ranko."
"But I'm hungry," she forced a bit more of a whine into her speech,
"and I want something to eat..."
"There is a coffee shop across the street, Ranko."
The whine and the look vanished, "Oh for... I want real food, baka."
"Ask Aya."
"He's bus--"
"Ranko!"
The redheaded teenaged girl sighed, and gave Ken a small wave,
resolving to figure out exactly how Ken was immune to her puppy-dog
eyes. She turned towards the counter, where Aya was standing, hand
lightly resting on the edge, "You bellowed?"
"You can go out and find food," the pointed look he gave her told her
quite clearly that she needed to lower the decibels the next time she
whined about being hungry, "after you deliver these."
Three blood red roses were arranged with a set of shockingly purple
toned blue bells, wrapped in a shimmery paper. It rested on the counter
where Aya had, obviously, put it together. She picked it up, rather
delicately, and gave her "boss" an odd look.
"Delivery? Me? Aya, I haven't even been here for twenty-four hours!"
"Yohji, Ken and myself are busy with other things. This is the
address," the sheet was passed to her. Ranko shook her head, looking
down at the sheet. That was practically on the other side of the
district!
"And I can get lunch after I deliver these?"
"Yes."
Her lips quirked, and she sketched a small bow before shucking off the
apron she'd been forced into that morning. Then, she was gone, vanished
out the door with a speed the assassin had only ever seen in Schuldich,
before. Yohji stepped out from behind a display of plants, "I'm going
to follow her, Aya. Make sure she's not going to get into any trouble."
"Aa."
---
"A restaurant?" Ranma scratched the back of her head with the hand not
occupied holding the bouquet. She'd been expecting a house, or an
apartment, or, hells, even the hospital. Not a restaurant. Shrugging to
herself, she prepared to enter when a voice caught her attention.
"Would you calm down?" Attention caught, Ranma turned to face it, and
found herself ducking into the alcove made by the door. One of the few
people she'd rather not see was standing not to far away-- Akane, his
fiancee. She was wearing a rather tasteful blue dress, not one he'd
seen before. Not that it mattered, Ranma couldn't really care less
about the girl now: he had Jei-sama back, after all.
With her as an uncomfortable looking Daisuke; Hiroshi wasn't around,
and Daisuke was actually dressed up nicely. Daisuke was the one to
speak, "I'm sorry Akane-chan, it's just... with you being engaged to
Ranma..."
"Who cares about the pervert?" the short haired girl snorted, "Daisuke,
look at me. It's been three years!"
"Three and a half."
"And you still doubt me?" Akane shook her head, "Never mind. Where are
you taking me?"
Daisuke made a motion to the restaurant that Ranma was using to hide
herself, "Welcome to the Royal Dragon, Akane," he blushed a bit, "I
made an order to get you flowers... but they're not here yet."
"Flowers?" a sweet smile crossed her lips and she hugged the boy tight,
"I bet they're just beautiful."
"Personally," Ranma called, "I'm not one for roses and blue bells."
Both boy and girl froze as Ranma sauntered out of the shadows, smirking
and carrying the bouquet. She bowed, handing them to Akane, "Consider
this a gift. The engagement is off, Tendou."
The girl in blue flushed a deep crimson suddenly, "But... I thought...
you said... and the wedding...!"
The redhead flicked the metal tag hanging from the leather collar
around her neck, but said nothing, leaving Tendou Akane stuttering on
the sidewalk; pride wounded. With a shrug, she turned on her heel and
knit her fingers behind her head, humming some song she'd heard on an
anime. With the engagement to Akane off, maybe Ryouga would stop being
such an ass?
A bare block later, that thought was derailed by a familiar, and not
all that unwelcomed shout, "RANMA! PREPARE TO DIE!"
---
Yohji cursed. He hadn't been close enough when following her to hear
what she'd said to the couple outside the restaurant, but he'd doubted
anyone in Tokyo had missed the large boy's shout. Although... why was
he calling her 'Ranma'? Omi had said that was her brother's name. Maybe
he got them messed up?
Yohji, of course, had never actually seen a picture of Ranma.
---
As the dust began to settle from the lost boy's entrance-- bakusei
tenketsu had been used on the ground in front of Ranma-- the street was
quickly vacated. Just because they were no longer in Nerima did not
mean people didn't know when something bad was going to happen.
Tokyo just had that aura after all. Although, usually in the weirder
districts, like Nerima, or Juuban.
"Hey Ryouga, long time no see."
Ranma was standing, perfectly balanced as always, atop the railing that
separated street from sidewalk. There were a few tears in her shirt and
pants from flying debris, but no actual injuries to herself. She'd been
through the attack enough times that it didn't really hurt her anymore.
Her opponent shot her a dark glare, opening his mouth to say something,
before the realization sunk in.
"You're dry."
Ranma blinked. That wasn't how things were supposed to happen. Ryouga
was supposed to get angry and attack her for no good reason, and they'd
fight, cause some mass property damage, maybe hurt someone (hopefully,
Ryouga himself) in the process, before Ryouga got lost and vowed to get
his revenge on some later date, all the while calling Ranma a coward.
Ryouga was not supposed to comment on whether or not Ranma was wet or
dry.
"... yeah, so?"
"And you're female."
Was that what this was about? "Again: Yeah, so?"
A nasty little smirk crossed his rival's face, "Are you... trapped?"
The redhead rolled her eyes, "No. Yes. Maybe?"
"..." Ryouga gave her a look, and Ranma held up her hands, opening her
mouth to respond defensively. Fortunately for the near by businesses,
who would have been destroyed in the fight which would have resulted
from Ranma's response, someone who hadn't vacated the premises,
responded for her.
Unfortunately for him, he dug himself deeper into the hole he was
already in.
"Hey Ranko, who's your friend?"
Her eye twitched, and she gave Yohji a dour look, before growling,
"Kudou. Were you following me?"
The brunette suddenly seemed to remember that 'Ranko' didn't like him
all that much. Or at all, for that matter. He tried his 'lady-charmer'
grin, "Oh, come on, Ranko! Schwartz is still after you and--"
"Schwartz?" Ryouga interrupted, turning an rather interested gaze on
Ranma, "My bastard of an uncle's bodyguards?"
This time, both Yohji and Ranma gave the lost boy an odd look, and he
blushed brightly, "I... shouldn't have said that."
"Why's that?" Ranma shuddered, she and Yohji were speaking in tandem,
now. She'd rather that they didn't. In fact, she'd rather that Yohji
would just go away, or better yet, incite a fight between her and
Ryouga and get caught in the middle. Therefore, he'd get grievously
injured, locked up in his room, and she wouldn't have to see him!
It was a wonderful plan. Now, just how to pull it off...?
Ryouga scratched the back of his head, "Reiji-- that's my uncle-- cast
my mother out of the clan when she married my father. If dad hadn't
taught mom his family's style of martial arts, she would have been dead
on my uncle's orders."
"Man, Ryouga, your family's more fucked up than mine," the redhead
announced. She held her breath, hoping that the line would send Ryouga
off into one of his rages. A spark of anger lit in his eyes, but it
wasn't enough. Not yet, at least...
"Shut up... 'Ranko'," the name was sneered, and Yohji gave the pair an
odd look as Ranma flushed brightly, and Ryouga gave a triumphant smirk,
"Schwartz has tried to kill off my whole family under Reiji's orders,
even me. That one eyed freak with the--" Ryouga promptly found himself
on his ass, staring up into the enraged eyes of one gender-bending
martial artist, who was straddling his chest.
"Don't you ever, _ever_, call Jei-sama a freak again," she hissed, the
white of pure, raw ki flickering over her fingers, almost hesitantly
leaping forwards to curl into small, pearl claws, before returning to a
pure energy form.
Ryouga's eyes lit with the oh-so-familiar look of rage, hurtling Ranma
off of him, "I should have known you'd be in with a _freak_ like him!"
Ranma gave him less than a second before she was pounding into him,
fists flying at ameguriken speeds, hissing and spitting as her mind
gave into the Cat.
End