------------------------------------------------------------------------- * Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction * Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction * Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction * ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Switch: Herbs and Spices (Chapter 06 / 22) 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 thanks to whoever saw this. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Day 1 Sixth Sense and Sensibilities As one reaches the evening in beautiful and balmy Nerima, one begins to feel a tension in the air. Some static electricity of unknown wavelength to travel down the fragrant air. This is mildly known as perversion. As the sun sets, so set in the deeper darker evils unknown to such kinder souls in the midmorning, or even the afternoon. But, as sure as the dark closes upon the district, there will be no rest for all. Kasumi was on her way home, with a basket half-filled with groceries. In her left hand, she had Dr. Tofu's book, which held the page she was on with a bookmark of sorts. Probably a piece of paper she had picked up somewhere. The doctor had been so distracting. But it was getting late. She had to admit that she rarely let herself leave the house, as it was always in some state of disrepair and disarray these days, and her visits to the clinic were a frequent and reliable breath of fresh air. As she nodded barely to the west and the sun winked sadly at her, she realized that she was also rarely out this late in the day. She had already missed lunch, but she felt justified. Her free left hand lazily traced the fence mesh while she sauntered slowly to the household, her omnipresent smile just slightly more deep and felt. After logging in some time waiting tables, Shampoo hit upon an idea. She supposed that she had thought of this some time before, for entirely different reasons. As she donned an apron of pink frills and thin wool, she knew exactly why she hadn't done it before: Amazon law was true and fair, as all Amazons should strive to be. She had had her shortcomings, but she had always believed that a man should give himself to a woman because he believes that she is the one he wants. (a matter of grave meditation would follow if she had to wonder why Ranma was so adamant about choosing Akane: she must have some cunning spell upon him, which she would break. or else some deeper truth...) Nonetheless, she knew well how to concoct such alchemy as necessary, and in the case of the pervert called Tsubasa, she was willing to pull all stops, else (gasp) be prepared to wed him, in the unlikely chance that he beat her groom. Of course, she could just have her husband beat him, but it was always said that an Amazon can hold her own. Akane was starting to heat up again. "What do you think you're doing?" she told an (evidently) inattentive Ranma, who stood on his hands, facing away from her. "Wha--?" was the infuriating response. It must be noted, of course, that Akane was not to hit him because, as Ranma had to learn (the hard way), she was not in the right frame of mind. Soun had noticed this while maintaining an unassuming position near the door of the dojo. She was giving in too much to the anger, and this anger could be used to your disadvantage. Soun watched the two lovers spar in the tradition of the anything- goes school: any-which-way. Ranma leapt upward as Akane started with a sweeping kick to the arms and head, before twirling in mid-air to lithely land behind her. She knew that this was going to happen, and was prepared to throw a set of barbells at him. He, on the other hand, was likewise prepared. She faked a throw with her right, which wasn't her preferred side anyhow, and the arc of the metal whizzed past harmlessly to his blindside. The ten-kilo weight thudded dully behind him. As Akane assumed a sumo stance facing him (which, can be noted, is similar to the horse riding stance of several arts, with the distinction of having a lower center of gravity, as sumo wrestlers rarely use horses, for obvious reasons), with a grimace of promised pain, Ranma decided on a change of pace. Grabbing onto her blue belt, he slid his legs underneath the wide space presenting itself under his partner. At the same time, using that same joint as the fulcrum, he pulled her weight toward the ground. Ranma was sure he'd seen this maneuver once too often (one of which could be dancing lessons), excluding the barbells. The last would not have mattered much except for the fact that one of these was on the floor, and that Akane's foot had caught itself in it. And so she was halfway to the floor, Ranma could not find an alternative to her hitting it. Using a property of the Saotome school's techniques for mid-air grappling, he again held on to the fastening of her upper gi (otherwise known as the belt-ranks) and, without shoving the unanchored female, pulled himself upward along her body, extending an arm in order to claim her shoulders, hoping to cushion the latter with his body. (It must be noted here that most of the arguments and embarrassing moments which could have lead to rather prickly positions, among others, could begin here. The fact that Soun was watching all this, he decided to take some really quick action-telephotography lessons, as well as call the other members of the house. This might, some would say, ineffectively explain why no romance could safely be held at the training facilities, thus a reason for marital festivities to be held at bay.) Akane, at the point of falling, felt the need to hold on to the barbells. She knew she could execute a proper roll, but Ranma was hanging on to her waist and bringing her down. This easily could have been avoided if she was focused on the match, instead of aspects of it. She closed her eyes, hoping to avoid pain and/or shock by not being able to see. Sweat rolled. Ukyo woke startled. In a flash, it was evening. Her stomach was growling, as she had forgotten to have her lunch. She realized that Ryoga must also be quite famished, unless he liked inhaling his okonomiyaki. Fastening her wrap-around, she mildly reminded herself to start wearing brassieres, as she didn't wear her bandages to stifle her chest growth anymore. Also, the number of perverts in Nerima was astonishingly huge, and she didn't want to get peeped on in case she fell asleep like that. She numbly registered the fact that Ryoga was not on the mat she had lain for him earlier. This was bad, but there wasn't any sign as to where he could have gone, nor of his actual passing. Her sleep-fogged brain took no time in locating him without informing other parts of her, thus she had tripped on him, almost falling. Having righted herself, she noticed the profuse blood which avoided clinging onto his clothes. Must have been some stain-off of sorts. Anyway, waking him wouldn't exactly be the best course of action. Hefting him along his stomach, Ukyo considered where she was to drop him. She nixed the mat, as he might find a way to vanish after waking. On second thought, he could do that anywhere. With an indeterminate amount of disgust, Ryoga was deposited on her bed, in order to induce the most comfort and the most slumber. Leaving him snoring, Ukyo began to prepare dinner. Night began, and near Mt. Fuji, a similar fount of action was awaiting to uncoil, feeding upon the stillness of the dark. It moved, and assimilated, gathering information necessary for modular activity. Soon, it will attack. Mousse blinked. He hadn't been glomped before, thus had not been able to identify the particular sound a glomp makes with the particular warmth a female body covered only by a leotard exudes while executing such a move. He blink-blinked once, then cursed the Will That Be for depriving him of sight at such an inopportune occasion. Not knowing quite what to do, he couldn't just let his hands do the figuring out. He couldn't do that exactly. He could just have been coated with tar or some other warm and unlikely substance. He could have been stuck in a comforter or something. He could just hear his own self- made explanations fly away as Kodachi started to attack his ears with some seductive nibbling. Kodachi was not going to let this one get away, oh no. Here he was not even stuttering or flinching. A man who was willing to take all she was going to give, and more. She ran circles on his pecs. Oh, she knew what to do with this darling, little boy. Her fantasizing (coupled with decided teasing and biting) was very sorely interrupted by the sounds of the servants checking out the miscreant duck. She had forgotten about it, but she believed she was justified. She wasn't going to reveal the presence of the man of her dreams to the rest of the world quite yet, not until she has made him hers and hers alone. She tilted slightly backwards, just to check if Mousse was to give resistance at the last possible moment, then streaked through the early evening sky, not even leaving a parting laugh. Tsubasa was halfway to tears. He had scoured the district in search for the one he loved when he bounded past a window. Not knowing better not to peek (as all households in Nerima are guarded with all sorts of easy-access weaponry, one could never be sure who's out there), he saw a familiar-looking ninja, hefting an unconscious young man to her bed. The scene flew by him, without much registering beyond the obvious. Without really knowing why, he had whole tears forming when he resumed his more frantic search. Nodoka yawned. She was quite ready to turn in, but she checked her list again. She'd have to get all of that finished tomorrow morning, so that she could leave for the umpteenth time to reclaim her family. Her hopes were starting to dim, as there was probably something bad that could happen, or could have happened, and her family could be shattered before they could be finally reunited. But she held firm. Those were just silly, trivial worries. She could trust the Tendos, they were just the oldest friends. Nabiki was in the dojo, with Ranma. This type of thing wasn't exactly procedure in the household, but since Kasumi had just come back and was preparing dinner, and Akane wasn't planning to talk to him anytime before the next century (as per usual), she was apparently voted unanimously by the fathers. He was sitting Indian with his hand on his unbandaged cheek, all the while his pigtail twirling in mid-air. She thought that it was kind of weird that so much hair was tied there that, if Ranma wanted to, he could make it do all sorts of gestures. It was as much a giveaway as the teenager's face, for all that it was worth. She was waiting for the tirade that was dancing in his mind, quite visible through his blue eyes. For his part, he actually seemed to consider his next words. That she owed to her reputation, personality, and ability to make a buck. If it was free, she turn it into yen. She absently licked her lips, thinking that she could turn it into even more, if needed. He could have started out with the mildly innocuous topic of the save with the face hair. He hadn't event thought of consulting the medicine man, and he was inclined to string the old ghoul for information (which pays heavier than even the middle Tendo sister's rates), until he focused slightly on the legs of the self-made woman. Not that it would matter to him, (and since it wasn't really any of his business) he noticed that none of the sisters were of the habit of shaving their legs. He himself was glad that he apparently did not inherit his father's hairiness, and so was spared of the need, as his alterego would need. In fact, he was lucky to have gotten rid of the mustache early on, else he grow one even in his female guise. It didn't even matter that he didn't start the conversation. She could pick it up even if she opened. Ranma crossly waited for speech to commence. Nabiki took a hard look at his (now) rugged face, and into his eyes. No one seemed to notice that he dimpled whenever he laughed, just below them. It made for a glittering look, she had seen him used only on certain occasions, all at her sister. These two were so transparent. Just like earlier. Much to the beleaguered heir's disadvantage, his companion didn't even ask about it. She knew enough, had seen enough, and had enough shots, to make her quota. She had more pressing matters to take care of. "Tell me about Ryoga." It took him off guard immediately. She made a faraway look that implied she wasn't paying attention to him at all. He made stares. He even figured to wave his hand in front of her. To disconcert him further, she just as quickly retained a poker face. He studied her intently. Ryoga could just be someone who wanted to kill him for some reason or another (spearheaded by the claim that he had caused the persistent jerk to be cursed at Jusenkyo's sorrowful pool of drowned li'l black piglet), but he could trust the guy to do the right thing at the right time. (Some dark corner of his mind supplied the idea that he might think that the idiot could do the right thing for that sexless macho chick he was forcibly engaged to, but the more sturdy neurons talking to his vocal mechanisms kept shut.) What he couldn't exactly get his finger on was the angle Nabiki was using on anything he could say about him. The fool was after him anyway, on a regular enough basis, without any prevarication. And the two were on well-enough terms to actually tolerate each other most of the time. He was probably as close to a friend as he could get, considering his propensity to trip up anybody within his immediate concern. Finally, the thought that there was something not quite within his grasp about the nature of the conversation to occur, which caused him to be more cautious than he already was. "What would you want to know?" Ukyo ate by candlelight, as she was wont to. Her dinner was solemn, and benignly undisturbed. Her music was the light snoring her dozing and invisible roommate made, telling her that he was indeed nearby. She had thought to wake him up, but the fact the she was going to end up in her bed, with him, sent waves of unrepressed anxiety and embarrassment. She could not, would not, tell him of the discoveries she had made for them tonight. Not while he was seized by the fancy of Nabiki, as he no doubt was. A male ego was a fragile thing, but Ryoga's was worse. She'd seen him carry on when he was bent out of shape by either Ranma or Akane (involuntarily), and he would somehow be passing nearby. A kind word or two, some warm food, and he would be good as new, but she saw a kindred type of searching in his eyes. The sadness belonging to some soul jilted by one for another, of unforgiving and unmerciful fate, and of being alone. Alone, was how they were. She pushed the plates, too tired to clean them. Tomorrow morning, they would see suds, but tonight: rest. Dinner was well underway at the Tendo dojo, and the mood was tense. Kasumi was cheerful but contained, and Nabiki was calculatedly distant. The four martial-artists-at-large were unspeaking, concentrated upon the food served, disinclined to start conversation lest Fate be tempted to deal the uppercut. By some unspoken agreement, apparently, whoever would call forth the wrath of the Terrible One, would have to answer directly, i.e. be the one to go and capture the lecher. The affianced couple had other plans, beyond the cold war sizzling between their voluminous visual forces. Nabiki smirked mildly, glancing upon the two, and mischievously opened the television set, much to the chagrin of the two dojo heads. She sat back as the business news prattled at how the latest opened Switch, Inc. had made an impressive debut, selling out all stocks within a record three days. No one noticed, as the youngest Tendo chose to vacate the proximity of a certain pig-tailed pervert, which the referred to was delighted to oblige, the older two defenders sighing their gratitude over the lack of excitement, and with the eldest sister clearing the low-slung table. One of the well-known errors in human judgment is the ability of people to completely forget a danger situation that presented itself mere moments ago, mostly distracted by shiny things. Although shiny things rarely have concerns with the matters of mice and cats, many have complemented the void left by this category of materials. In the case of the friends, Tendo and Saotome, it was a board game called go. The moment that they revealed the board to the world, the world chose to spit it back at them. Ranma was in the garden, near the pond, setting up a wooden post to send volleys of pain upon, he chilled slightly at the touch of old wood. "Son-in-law." Turning around, he saw what he expected to see whenever the jab of sharp wood would encounter his shoulder blades: an old ghoul. Not bothering to bend down to meet her bulbous eyes, he said, "it's you." Looking up from her vantage point, she continued. "Happy's been sighted, sonny boy. Time to pack your bags." Immediately, both Soun and Genma appeared to provide the necessary equipment for the three of them. Kasumi took the hint quickly and was waving a scarf goodbye, throwing cheery good luck at them. Nabiki simply sojourned to her room for her own purposes. As they were getting pushed along, Ranma could only ask: "Where are we going?" Cologne was hopping along on her walking stick as they turned into the road. "Mt. Fuji, sonny. Hope you brought a camera on you." From a window on the second floor, a worried bride-to-be prayed in silence for the safe return of her reluctant groom. Closing the door to her room, she caressed the light switch with her right hand. After consideration, she went in without turning it on. She glided to her bed and slumped into it noiselessly. For a few moments, there was no movement. She turned on her back and stared at the blackened ceiling in her blackened room. Wide-eyed, she refocused her vision to within, neglecting the breeze wheedling its way through the half-closed window, taking in it the curtains. She hadn't even noticed that the wind reversed itself, taking the self-same curtains with it out of the room, waving into the horizon. Nabiki smirked. She'd been acting too strange today, even for herself. She had thought that she could talk it through to herself, but it didn't help. She had to admit that she was mightily confused. Her heart was beating heavily in her chest as she thought about him. She wished that she had a set of stuffed toys or maybe even a little pig to hug. But there was so much trouble in the offing. There was Ukyo, of course, and Akane. There had to be a little something for him in her, despite the fact that she was 100% Ranma. Why else would she put a bandanna of his on her little piggie? The night promised to be cold.
