------------------------------------------------------------------------- * FIRST FIC * FIRST FIC * FIRST FIC * FIRST FIC * FIRST FIC * FIRST FIC * ------------------------------ A Ranma 1/2 Fan Fic ------------------------------ Switch by Nikholas "Switch" F. Toledo ------------------------------ Please do remember that Ranma 1/2 is a trademark and a copyright of and by some big name people and companies I am not even worthy to introduce. Anybody who says that I took any of their stuff better not find me hiding. Also, great thanks to whoever reads this and likes it, good thanks to whoever reads it anyhow, and teeny-weeny thanks to whoever else even saw this. ------------------------------ In case I forget to say so, this story was recycled 100% post-consumer story, using a Switch Regressor AS-07, set on medium mayhem. No aliens were injured, molested or met during the story. Parental guidance is weird. ------------------------------ The Vector Mark of Approval is the foremost seal of excellence of NFT fics. The freshness, correctness, and F-ness of each work pass through rigorous tests of labial dexterity and cognitive consistency. Grammar checked and taste tested by the highly esteemed board of Vector, Editor- in-Chief. (No small thanks to Peggy Stonnel who read it without knowing what she was getting into and ended up knowing more about the language.) ------------------------------ Herbs and Spices is the first story arc of the complete Switch story. Consult the stars to find out when the rest of this tale will unfold: Lovers and Friends; and, Odds and Ends. Brought to you by NFT Fics. ------------------------------ Book I: Herbs and Spices ------------------------------ Day 1 In an almost perfectly rectangular district of Tokyo, popular to many tourists, aliens and all-around weirdoes, it is quiet. It is quiet only because it is almost three in the morning. It is exactly the time of day when even perverts aren't around doing their jobs. Needless to say, the town heals. It is in these hours when those who are indeed awake (while fighting unimaginable forces to run amok stealing underwear of the opposite gender [if possible], to make a public nuisance of one's self, or, in the very least, to make a fool of one's self in the process) think of the prospects of leaving said district for the nearest, but safest, asylum. While pondering in the exact three minutes and forty-nine seconds of bliss, the nightmare begins again. In the Tendo anything-goes dojo grounds, three figures stumble to wakefulness. In the interests of those within the house, these three have promised (silently, of course) to not go about bashing each other's heads in before sunrise. They take their respective baths, dress up, and leave for the dojo proper in a matter of half an hour. The proper anything-goes warm-up set involves many rigorous exercises, done at about four speed in order to maximize what's equivalent to twenty times as much. After another half-hour, they begin their basic katas. At this time, the eldest Tendo girl would have woken up, taken her bath, and summarily assessed any property damage for maintenance and control. After the three in the dojo finish with their basic katas, they up the tempo into the specialized movements trademarked by the school, interspersed with sparring matches informally opened and ended. They would take breathers afterward, at which time, they descend upon the house for their first breakfast. The food left upon the table by Kasumi would be the normal training breakfast; she would have been starting upon the breakfast that would be served to the family. The three attack the food like stalkers, then give thanks to the cook. Nabiki would then invariably wake, noting that the unexciting parts of the day have elapsed. She would then take a bath, much to the dismay of the three sweaty eaters. She knew this, and this was why she did this. Through all this, Happosai would be sleeping. After an additional two hours of sleep, he would begin warming up for another day of reaping the joys of womanhood. Akane, as most of us know, wakes up at the drop of sunrise. Today, she had woken up to find out what the fuss was all about in the bath. It was Ranma's turn in the bath when the sun finally came for its daily rounds. He had to survive yet another summer's regimen of industrious training. He craved it, sure, and when his father had implied that he was becoming soft for being groggy this morning, he had shown him who really was soft. Not too much before sunrise, though. Had to give the girls time to sleep, Mr. Tendo said. Now that's someone who cares. Mr. Tendo. Though he does tend to overreact... *yawn* Removing his boxers and tank top, he reached for the door into the bath. He set the gi on a shelf to keep it dry. Through the fog in the bath, he could see only a fuzzy reflection in the mirror. It was good, in a way, because he hadn't exactly gotten proper sleep for a week now. He'd just look awful. With all the panty raids, beach "outings" and overall mayhem the little lech causes in the summers, he couldn't afford to sleep much. Thank God that this summer was only three weeks long, and the next one comes in four months. A restful dozer in the bath did not see the female enter. Nerima is one of those rectangular patches of land on Earth that strictly adheres to the notion of defying nature. The climate of this area is accelerated in such a way that four or five years of weather pass through annually. This is not as unusual as another such patch of earth in China, whose climate is diametrically opposed to the weather of the nearby areas. Thus, in what is normally winter, the swath of land is in summertime, and vice versa. And, as people in Nerima know, the Chinese are a weird sort. Anyone who's come from there has had something wrong happen to them. Which made them fit in quite well here. Mousse blinked. He could tell he was upside down because his head felt heavy. Feeling for balance, he righted himself. It was morning in balmy Nerima, and he noted this while clearing the trash (which he evidently slept in last night) to locate his glasses. He didn't want to remember why he was here, because the details were unimportant. He had lost. Again. To whom and why, it didn't matter. It could have been Ranma, to take Shampoo from his clutches. Or Shampoo, just because she would. Or Cologne, for Shampoo. Or any of those other people. He sat down, his head in his hands. It wasn't that he hasn't trained - he was still the undisputed master of hidden weapons. But he was disheartened. He could not claim for his own his love. Neither could he defeat the one who has stolen her heart. It wasn't really fair. Returning to all fours, his hands find his glasses. Sighing, he returned to the Cat Cafe. The workday was about to begin anew. Soun Tendo had just had his bath, thank you. He had also finished his daily training, which meant that he was only waiting for the day to lazily stretch out before him. The master would be going out by now, seeing that he avoided taking breakfast with the family. It would be much, much safer if they could tag him before he could do damage, but the little freak just liked it rough (something he had coined from Ranma, which he was laughing about before the master saw him; afterwards, he just couldn't quite see why it was so funny). They had to go out and search for him while peaceably asking the gods to take him now, or at least stop him from doing what they knew damn well he was doing. He was hoping that whoever had just shouted could wait until after breakfast to do bodily harm, the training was starting to get to him. The man had trouble sleeping. He was not going to like these changes life was giving him, he believed. Things would start to become boring once more, and he would have to leave. His itinerary was marked out, and it was so troublesome to find out that life was going to be so continually downhill. At least one can find a way to keep out of the headlines. But, to reminisce on the things that were. Yes, things were exciting. It just helped that the man knew what was going to happen. Yes, exciting indeed. P-chan had had a relatively restful night, as he had gotten used to the way Akane slept. The day before ended well, with the cacophony of agony and jellied bones. And the fact that he was where he wanted to be, not in a state of transition. Here was where he was, and that was all that mattered. A contented bwee escaped him, and the bed rustled slowly under him. A small shift of weight, and then the feel of the hot wind through cool silk assailed him. Not knowing better, he drifted comfortably back into sleep. Kasumi had just arranged breakfast in the living room, and was in the process of waking up the sleepyheads, when the shriek erupted. The pitch was perfect, and so was the throw, from what arc of smoke she could determine from the hallway window. Ranma again joined the avian species in projectile motion, preparing to land in a one-point bone-jarring manner. The shrieker, Akane, had returned to her quarters in a most Akane manner, which meant that whoever was asleep was not anymore. The elder sister just replied, "Breakfast is ready," and scooted downstairs to call Dr. Tofu. Nabiki espied the newspaper on the dojo's front doorstep. She shoved the paper away into a trash bin, and then took out a similar one. With a small smile, she went back in. The doctor's clinic was open this early for only one reason, nowadays, and it was coming on time, via air mallet. This practice befell the reason, but since Ranma was associated with the Tendos', it was better safe than sorry, and so a four-hour delay was usually given to even dare to peek inside, lest be caught by the young healer in a haze. A peaceful cloud lay in wait of the blushing young boy entering an anterior non-orifice. After being so rudely interrupted, it spat out a topless dew-soaked goddess, and moved on to consider wreaking chaos on the plans of men (and woman) with curses. Ranma was getting better at receiving crash injuries, the doctor mused while watching the swan dive. Almost just like a Volvo. He dragged the younger martial artist into his offices. Ranma-chan had fallen in a towel he grabbed on his way out, exchanged it, upon revival, for a set of clothes he had left the last time he was here, and was seated on an examining table in the office, only looking irked, but half-asleep. Dr. Tofu guessed that time was due for some healthy man-to-man talk with the boy, since it was the doctor's duty to prevent injury whenever possible. Stopping his train of thought to get on the subway of action, he sat down slowly on the table which the teen-ager sat on. His mind said the obvious. "What happened with you and Akane, Ranma?" the doctor opened suddenly. "That tomboy must have thought I was peeping on her again." The doctor smirked at the line. "Do you peep on Akane?" Ranma-chan whirled on the table. "NO! Uh... I mean, no. But that doesn't stop her from thinkin' so." Tofu turned. "And why would she think that?" "Because she's so thick-headed! You can't get through to her." The female began to rant. "... egged-on paranoid, utterly unfeminine, and obnoxiously redundant!" he finished with a flourish. "Yes, yes, you've said that," the doctor calmly acceded. "But haven't you even tried to make amends with her? Convinced her of your innocence?" "Oh, yeah, sure. Try talking to the business end of an industrial strength mallet, for all the good it'll do you." "How about something else? How about trying to talk about it... without the insults?" "It's not that easy," he sat down, immediately deflated. "She won't even give me a chance..." Again, the smirk appeared. "So, you're saying you're trying to get along with her?" "Of course I am. We've been living at the dojo for almost four summers now. We even trash the place every couple of weeks, when the latest 'terror' comes up," the depression resurfaced. "I'm getting so tired of this." "Of what?" "The fights. The destruction. The roofs," he said, rubbing his bottom and nape. "I don't know what we're waiting for. We can't go home to mom, for one. But we've always been on the road. This isn't helping any." The doctor stood to face the redhead. "Ranma, I've been here for years now. And I've had no trouble practicing martial arts. Being on the road doesn't change anything except the places you tend to call home. But we both know why you haven't left for the road, yet." A melodramatic pause. Zoom in on the doctor's expression of authority. "You've found a place to call home." Genma had heard the ruckus and, knowing that training would not be continued this morning, went to the bath for his morning toilette. Something had been biting at him for a few days now. How the master had kept turning up in places far in-between. How they had had days of inactivity. How his son (the no-good ingrate) had been feeling weak in the past days. Something fishy was happening, he was sure. But what he wasn't sure of was the feeling of something has happened which has pervaded the air. He scoffed at it. It was, as he knew, only the weather, and Ranma (the weak-kneed idiot) was quite under it. Foolish boy! Weather preparation is in the training of the anything-goes school. Be it rain or sleet, hail or snow... whatever. He brushed up and then went hairy. It was all Ranma-chan could do to keep from laughing into the good doctor's face. Which was enough to convey the self-same sentiment crystal clear. Tofu pushed his wire-rimmed glasses towards the bridge of his nose. "I knew you wouldn't agree." He stared into blue irises. "You can't. Or at least would deny it. Among other things." He gave the youngster the kettle he had been holding behind him with a meaningful look. Pretending he didn't notice and not even bothering to turn his head back, Ranma gave his thanks and left for the dojo. Ukyo had woken up, all alone. Not that any self-respecting nubile (which meant marriageable, she kept reminding herself) young woman would want to get caught with someone else in bed. But she desperately needed a hug. It was something she was looking for quite a while since she had first set foot in the district. Every morning, as had been her yen, she would invariably look for her mother and father to hug and feel important and special to. That was before she had left to avenge her broken heart. Had she succeeded? No, she thought bitterly. Here she was, nursing the same heart, broken by the same boy from years ago. She got up drowsily, hours before the diner would open. Way too early, but early enough to get in some good and fresh positive attitude. She stared back at the futon. Yes, it couldn't be wasted on the dreamland. On her way out, she nearly stumbled over a slowly mobile object of lower-shin height. She had to rub her eyes to realize that the black blot was actually Akane's little pet pig. Now, while she had her differences with Akane, she had no real anger for the girl, and only the same affections for her little black piglet. The sight of the pet sleepwalking almost made her laugh out loud, but a better idea bloomed. She lightly picked the darling little porkchop by the bandanna (?), and settled it back with her into the bed. She only hoped Akane wouldn't find the munchkin in her possessive embrace while she decides to return to slumber. With P-chan's snout slightly nuzzling her breast, with contented bweees of happiness, she fell asleep again. Cologne could not exactly figure out why she had woken up with a smile, but, somehow, she figured that she could find out why soon enough. She went to wake up Shampoo for today's training. The Kuno residence lay blissfully ignorant.
