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* FIRST FIC * FIRST FIC * FIRST FIC * FIRST FIC * FIRST FIC * FIRST FIC * 
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A Ranma 1/2 Fan Fic
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Switch
by Nikholas "Switch" F. Toledo
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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. 
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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.
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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.)
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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.
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Book I: Herbs and Spices
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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.