------------------------------------------------------------------------- * Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction * Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction * Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction * ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Switch: Herbs and Spices (Chapter 11 / 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 2 11th Guest "Mommy?" Mrs. Tendo looked up from her notebook. Her little girl was coming up to her with a questioning glance. "Mommy, I have a little question." The cookbook still had about a third to go through. She closed it slowly, and placed the ball-point pen on the cover. While her dumpling shifted and pouted and looked everywhere and pulled on her skirt, she smiled, sweetly yet tinged with a sadness she could not place. How she loved her little ways, even though they were always a little different. A little off: she's never really come close to either parent, yet. Picking up her bundle of joy, she politely asked, "what does my little princess want to ask me?" The roundish face came to eyelevel with the thoughtful bright eyes. "Mommy, have you ever gotten married?" She smiled, dimples fascinating her young charge. "Of course, dear. Why do you ask?" The younger Tendo's brown furrowed, as though she was miffed by not having overseen the event herself. "How many guests were there?" What an awkward question, the thirty-odd year old housewife mused. Nonetheless, she answered. "Let's see. There was Uncle Saotome, Grandfather Hap-" "Was there a priest?" Her dark eyes glittered, implacable. "Yes. Then, there was Auntie Nodoka, though she wasn't Auntie Saotome yet. And-" A tug. "Was daddy there?" She stopped enumerating, and smirked. "Yes, I think daddy was there. He was with me." "Oh." She said that in that wondrously magical way that kids always did when they learned something new about the world. Then, she bowed her head, counting on her fingers. A little early for her age to be counting on two hands, but there she was. The pre-schooler didn't even notice that she had stopped. The girl bobbed her head upward. "He wasn't a guest?" She smiled, and nodded. The child smiled back, and continued her computations. A few more digit exertions, then: "how many?" Sparing the details, she concluded, "about twenty guests." At the figure, she opened both hands so that her little wizard would see how big twenty was. She counted off on her fingers, and turned them when she got past ten. When she stopped, the shorthaired little girl shook her head. "What's wrong?" Two little hands kept her hands from curling. A small fist, she put on top of the larger ones. "Priest." She uncurled the left thumb. "Mommy." She glanced up for acknowledgement, then uncurled her left pointer finger. "Daddy." The middle finger. With her right hand, she demonstrated closing her mother's hands. She opened them, one by one, but instead of counting from one, she started at four. At the end, there were thirteen fingers laid out. "No good." She pouted, having made her point. And indeed it was made. Such was a bond between a child and the mother who raised her. Thus, Mrs. Tendo promised to her, there and then, "okay, sugar. No more than ten guests at your wedding, dear. Mommy promises." She's never been known to be superstitious. But having plenty of round objects in her apartment does not constitute being superstitious. Truth to be told, many of these round things have holes in them; not much in terms of luck there. Hinako Ninomiya has never really had had a normal life to begin with, and she liked to think that luck was never a factor in it. Of course, if fate had not thrown into her path a kindly old man that changed her metabolism and aided (if not cured) her frail constitution, then she would not be fulfilling her lifelong dream of teaching. Nope, no luck there. There was determination, some willpower, lots of ki-suctioning, and an honest-to-goodness longing for the job. Neither is it luck that she had been transferred to Furinkan High, where, through connections, maneuvering and exhaustive research, she had found the man of her dreams. There was no need for luck at all. Where was the point in trying to wait for things to occur when you could make them happen yourself? Hinako woke up, in her polka-dotted apartment, yawning and tossing the self-help book she had confiscated from Gosunkugi last school period. "What a funny book." A frustrated Shampoo made her way up the stairs and, with a plaintive sigh that signified exactly how tired she was, she plopped down on her bed, fast asleep. The Cat Cafe (also known as the Neko Hanten) is an interesting treatise on cultural architecture. It meshes the aspects and flavor of both Japanese and Chinese nature. Considering that it is an overnight project, it makes a pretty well-supported statement by itself. (Though, notable enough is the fact that the lot that the restaurant stands was not empty the day before it was built. Cologne had well-negotiated a lease with the owner. Since the other party had owned the rest of that area, and the Amazons had attracted attention and customers to the area, this other party has had little complaint.) In any case, the building's design is simple and modern Japanese, with a second floor with wooden flooring and average-thickness walling. A small outdoor patio at the back, where which laundry is hung, and a skinny alleyway to its left side bound the building. The restaurant proper is tastefully Chinese in ambiance, with an aura of grandeur, size, volume and smoke that speak of a heritage of light opium, beautiful women and quality ramen. (And a notably Hong Kong feel to it, as the occasional fistfight quickly turns into a Jackie Chan- esque mess, but that's mostly due to the air of being in Nerima.) But appearances aren't all: arguably, the personality of any restaurant can be found in two places, the kitchen and the storeroom. The Cat Cafe kitchen is a hive of activity during the workhours, and a laboratory of sorts during the off-hours. It is well-known that some of the most potent of potions and most questionable of foodstuffs have been created here. (The only other places which could compete are, respectively, the Kuno greenhouse, and the Tendo kitchen.) However, the true secret lies in the storeroom, which occupies the half of an excavated basement. (The other half is taken up by a rather lush bathroom.) In a warehouse-like arrangement, crate upon crate of commodity and weaponry come together in a menacing and completely at-ease manner. Several odd herbs by the bushel, a toxic fluid by the gallon, swords by the bunch... and at the center of which (which could be no more than just a tiny space in between the crates) is a futon. Akane helped carry Mousse (as Gosunkugi was securely placed on top of him) all the way to the clinic. She glanced at the normally pristine (if occasionally disheveled) young man, and blushed slightly. He was sweating through a sleeveless undershirt, which hid neither his physique nor the effects of his martial arts training on it. Before she was able to stifle the blush, her eyes traveled along the strength of his bare arms, peripherally taking in the firmness of his abdomen, across his pectorals, up his collarbone and smooth throat, to his shining blue eyes. She blushed even more furiously, when she realized that the doctor's brown lens-aided eyes focussed on her. He just laughed. "Um, doctor? I have to go home and... omigosh! Breakfast!" With the doctor's nod, she sped off. I am dead. This was all that Ryoga was thinking at the time. He tried to hide under the folds of his shirt, but it was as futile as using an umbrella against a Rising Dragon Blast, and almost as disorienting. It should work, oh dear God, please, please work... Ukyo picked up the shirt, uncovering the squealing, wide-eyed pig. She opened her mouth in a startled manner, and took a step back. Could pigs fly? Ryoga's mind screamed through his ears. He scampered quickly, hoping to go through the exit between the chef's legs. Which was blocked by the business end of a really ticked-off fly swatter. Make that pig-swatter. I'm dead, Ryoga bweed. Then he was tossed into the air. Kuno mansion. One of many deathtraps that are strewn hither and yon like so much like flotsam, jetsam and bedlam (especially near the Nerima ward). "AUGH!" The sub-verbal call for help reverberated throughout the household, without much response beyond the shaking of a few heads, or the change of direction in reptilian feet. Outside the house, the "Augh!" was dampened to lesser levels, as it shook tree, air and water alike in minute oscillations. It dove below the surface of the water and came into contact with the bottom of the pond. To a small figure at the bottom, it rang like the morning reveille. "I'm coHHHHHHHHKKK *glug*" Sasuke just kept his mouth closed and swam to the rescue. "Excuse me." She gave herself two gulps of air. "You're not selling encyclopedia, are you?" "Huh?" He was more flushed than flustered. "That would be a noteworthy sales pitch. 'Interested in the truth', indeed." Nodoka gently, but firmly, held the sheathed katana's hilt. "I'm sorry, but I'm not interested. I'm also in a hurry, so if you'll excuse me." She took the man's right arm with her own with authority. The man was unmoved. Having caught his breath, he pushed door to open the space a bit more. "I have... information about... your husband and your son." That struck a nerve. "That's who I'm... fetching right now." "At the Tendo dojo. They're not there now." Her shoulders sagged slightly. She looked the stranger in the eye. "Who are you to my family?" "We'll meet, I'm sure," he said, as he closed the door behind him. "I'm home!" "Sure took your time." "Sorry!" Akane walked into the living room, to see breakfast already laid out. Nabiki was behind her, coming from upstairs. "I ran into Mousse and Gosunkugi, passed out on the road." Nabiki smirked. "Never knew they had it in'em. On the road, too." Akane gave a little sigh of relief. Nabiki was in higher spirits than usual. "Of course not. Took them to Dr. Tofu's." Nabiki made a clicking sound. "You naughty girl." Stop blushing, Akane yelled at herself. "Why?" she shyly inquired. "Because you're still chasing after Dr. Tofu. And I was betting on you and Ranma getting married before the end of the year." Akane felt very much her namesake. Bitterly annoyed and horribly embarrassed clashed in monochrome on her cheeks. "Nabiki!" she weakly got out. "Touché," the older sister stuck her tongue out, triumphant. That's for making me wait. I'm famished. Decked in her strong-hemmed yellow one-piece dress, Hinako scrambled into and out of the nooks and crannies of her apartment. "Where is it?" She hyper-skipped into the bathroom. She fled the scene in almost the same breath. She poked into a walk-in closet and suddenly "waiiiiii!"ed, waving a wide-brimmed light yellow hat. Happily, she locked the apartment as she took a wave-wavy path to the Tendo household. Owwwwwwwwwwwwwww. Tsubasa did not wake up in a very good mood. It was very, very smelly. He did not want to see what he thought he was in. He tried to stretch, but something was cramping him in. He tried to yawn, but his lips were stuck in some... well, hardened glue or something. Nope, not quite. He hoped he wasn't sucking on a bottle. Then he felt... it. Something was moving... and it was wrapped around his legs. Smooth, ticklish and distinctly warm. A memory: he was in an alley. In a trash pile. The final piece was when he heard and felt a very feminine "mmm..." Felt it. In his gums. He opened his eyes. He liked what he saw. He closed them again and rode away... "... to Dr. Tofu's," Kasumi was finishing. She quietly placed the letter in the middle of the book. "I'll get the plates," Akane volunteered. Nabiki looked dubious. "Are you sure you can make it on your own?" Kasumi had her back turned. "Oh, don't worry. I just need... a check-up." Nabiki caught the pause. Still, "be careful." Kasumi "hmm-mmm"ed. "Kasumi?" She turned. "What is it, Nabiki?" "Will you be home for lunch?" Kasumi kept an even expression as she had moved from slight confusion to realization. "Oh dear. I'll try to-" "Don't." Nabiki slyly smiled. "Tell you what," she started, taking a credit card from a pocket, "take Dr. Tofu to lunch. On me." Time stopped. "Blast! My sister's fiendish charge must have jostled my timepiece!" Kuno lamented. "Now, I might never set my assemblies and rendezvous when Nature best gratifies the human soul!" "Aaaah!" Sasuke over-reacted. "My watch has stopped too!" "'Tis a day of lamentation, and grave meditation, when time ceases and ends. I must be with my loves!" Thereby finding a laudable excuse, Kuno spared his servant the rest of his speech. "Aaaah! Master Kuno!" A puff of smoke marked his escape. "Shucks! And I just wanted to ask if he knew where Mistress Kodachi was. Those ropes won't hold the alligator. I... what's this?" He picked up a recipe. "Oh, it's a clue!" He started sniffing the paper. He tried getting fingerprints, but only got his own. He scratched his head. "I know this is a clue... but how?" Absently, he read the recipe aloud. "... potent... dilute in one liter per teaspoon... instantly falls in love with whoever of the opposite gender... blah... target of affection changes every time the victim (?) loses consciousness... do not dispose of by feeding to animals or by washing in running water... what a bunch of rubbish." And with that, he crumpled the disproved clue, and thought nothing of it. Time continued. Kasumi took the rectangular plastic. Her openly asking glance would have prompted a similar glance from the middle sister, had she been there with her. Instead, she was already inside asking Akane, "you got a minute?" Akane washed her hands off with two sheets of towelette. "Yeah. Why?" "Let's," Nabiki started, leaning forward confidentially, "make a deal." Why... wha-? She tied him up, gagged him, and was now lugging him off, carrying him across her shoulder. Ryoga was now certain that, in spite of certainties, Ukyo was an Amazon. Of course, he was now a pig, and it was far better to be tossed across someone's shoulder than held by the scruff of his neck or by his tail (he was quite sure that that would weaken him immensely). Or maybe on one's bosom... Oh, shut up, he told his currently eloquent panic systems. Why? it babbled back. It gets you into this type of trouble, but it's soooooo much better, right? It would be better, he thought, if I could just look at her face, find out... what? You were never good at body language. Got you into as much trouble. Oh, just shut up. Thus, he sped down from panic to good, wholesome depression. She hates me. Now she's going to COOK you. Ryoga bonked his panic center once for good measure. Where IS she taking me? This was when he got tossed into a really dark room. Ukyo closed the door behind her, leaving him in a state of confusion. Not necessarily a problem, or unusual, just... distressing. Ryoga busied himself by removing the bandanna gagging him. After spitting out the cloth, he wondered when he last took a bath. He had already removed two of the other bandannas and was shaking his hindquarters to get out of the last one when the door opened slightly. On the floor, Ukyo's silhouette bent toward him, leaving a lump, then straightened. He pondered the parcel in the doorway, and weighed its significance. The kettle whistled light steam. A door slid open. Two gi-clad legs entered tentatively, only to be replaced by the sliding shut of the door. The young woman fashioned a cautious posture, eyes darting to the darker corners of the room. Not satisfied by her visual sweep, she began to pace the room in even steps, each leading to and from a back stance. For each turn of her body, her head tilted within a tight angle to increase her perception. And still, the creaking of the floorboards made all noise. She stepped out of the natural lighting and closer to the darkened end of the dojo, where most of the hi-tech recording and reproduction equipment were usually set-up. Another step completely shaded her eyes, and she took a moment to refocus her vision. That's when her assailant struck. Out of a corner, a silhouette leapt upward and forward, with its outstretched arms in front of its head. It missed the young woman's head by inches, as the latter dropped into a roll further into the shadows. The young woman stood in the darkness, while her assailant turned to flash a focussed expression. "Nabiki!" she hissed. She saw Nabiki jump back into the wall, her own gi rustling slightly. "Just checking your reflexes." Her own sister was egging her on? With a low grunt, Akane rushed from her obfuscation and into Nabiki's personal space rather quickly and with strikes from both arms. As Akane's punches came within range, Nabiki extended her arms to fend off blows. She soon found that she had her back to the wall itself, and that she was being pelted by close-range hits. Akane was beginning to wonder whether or not this was a good idea. She hadn't been using full force, but Nabiki has yet to put up an offense. "Na-" she began, when she was suddenly swept backwards by a kick behind her shins. Nabiki delivered a vicious elbow to her abdomen. "- bOOF!" Nabiki jumped away from the wall and where Akane was. "Don't pull any punches!" she huffed. Akane pushed herself up, pushed her breakfast back into place, and put her mind to setting some etiquette into her sister. "Kiyaaaaaa!" she came in with a sidekick. The door closed. In the dining room, Nodoka Saotome sat, still as she had been for moments hence. The sword stretched across the table. In seconds more, Nodoka shook herself out of the stupor. She took the ancestral sword of the honorable Saotome clan dating back to the times of feudal Japan, when honor and loyalty was all, by the hilt. She raised it to the light, allowing the ricepaper sheath to fall to the floor. She was now judge, jury and executioner, as representative to the ancestors whose laws were broken, to the family of peers to which they have found guilty, and the blade whose law will be final, and all. To the father, her husband, a treason beyond all reasoning. To the daughter he had birthed, she washed her hands of her. But their fates were one, and she, too, must suffer. Tomorrow. When they return from Mt. Fuji. And the ancient blade shone laughing, knowing that it will be bathed at long, long last. Gosunkugi blinked awake. He saw that he was inside an infirmary of sorts. Much to his chagrin, he noticed that the three books he had borrowed from the library were missing. He walked around, hoping that it hadn't been left on the street. He stumbled into an adjacent room. There was a heavy wooden table in the middle of the room, a filing cabinet near the door, and a bookcase to a side. There was also a couch under the window to the far wall, and a door to the side. As it was, he was enamored by the olden tomes with archaic titles, when the doorbell sounded. "Hello?" A soft female voice. "Dr. Tofu?" This was Dr. Tofu's? Gosunkugi had heard of it, but had never seen it or been there before. "Who is it?" A male voice, presumably Dr. Tofu's. The sound of thick glass crunched. "K-k-kasumi?" Gosunkugi was pulling out several tomes, hoping to borrow them. "Doctor... are you all right? You're crushing your mug in your fist." "Wh-what a-amazing circum-s-stance for us to... to be in the, uh, same place at this t-time..." Gosunkugi deigned to wait for the good doctor on the couch. The voices seemed closer, and the doors were heard to have closed. "Well, this is your clinic after all..." He happened upon a file labeled "Hair" on the table. "Oh, this is Akane's friend, Mousse." "W-well, he's been a good p-patient. Haven't you, Mousse?" Betty wasn't able to comment on Dr. Tofu's patting. Gosunkugi noted that a sample of Ranma's hair was attached to the file. "Ah? This would come in handy..." "Dr. Tofu." The voice sounded soft, but with a stiff back to it. Kasumi held Dr. Tofu's shoulder. "We need to talk." Dr. Tofu's free arm shoved Mousse from off his bed, cutting his nap time significantly. Ukyo never felt quite as tense as this. After leaving Ryoga a kettle in the storeroom, she opened up shop, convinced that she wasn't going to let anything change her mood, which now was quite confused. So she opened up shop, late as it already was. The hubbub of everyday life filled her, and she let it ring in her ears. Soon, orders came in at a rate which pushed out anything else from her mind, and the okonomiyaki sizzled on her grill without a sign of remorse. That was two hours ago. As lunch hour loomed into view, her mind grew restless, and posed a simple question. Where was he? He would have surely taken the opportunity to make tracks. After all, the worst has come to worst, and, like it or not, he's toast. She firmly decided to give him a clean getaway. If he left, she wouldn't stop him. If he stayed, she wouldn't mind. They could easily cover up this whole incident, and none would be worse for the wear. No, she wasn't angry. It made too much sense. Hmm. He probably wouldn't want to talk about it, then. ... I wish he would. I wish he'd just... leave. The clang of the metal on concrete shrugged off her haze. Ryoga stood up, leaving the kettle. "I... we have to talk." The man strode down Nerima's streets, humming a song. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- (Detach here) Right after spending two solid months of writing the anniversary side story for Tsubasa's "origin", I find myself rushing to meet the schedule of a-month-a-chapter for the main Switch story. With me working on 23 fanfic titles concurrently, only four of which being non-Ranma, I find myself squaring against an ML up to its gills with Ranma fanfics. (Does anybody know the address of Ranma ML?) Needless to say, I'll leave you guys with several cliffhangers. All will be revealed in time. Someone still out there reading? I hope so. I'm not even sure... I'll just keep'em coming! Watch out for low- flying plotlines, though... Halfway into day 2, we have the following standings: Akane: locked in mortal combat with sister Nabiki: locked in mortal combat with sister Ryoga: in the Ucchan's, with Ukyo Ukyo: busy in the Ucchan's, with Ryoga Kasumi: at Dr. Tofu's, keeping Dr. Tofu company Tofu: out to lunch, in present and projected future, with Kasumi Betty: standing pretty, in Dr. Tofu's Shampoo: asleep in the Cat Cafe, second floor Tsubasa: with Kodachi, in the alley outside the Cat Cafe Nodoka: last with the man, at the Saotome house Kuno: making time for Akane and the pig-tailed goddess, somewhere Sasuke: at the Kuno estate, throwing away evidence Kodachi: making out with Tsubasa, outside the Cat Cafe Mousse: waking up, at Dr. Tofu's Mr. Turtle: tied up, at the Kuno estate Gosunkugi: trying to get away with it, at Dr. Tofu's Hinako: happily on her way to the Tendo-ke The man: last seen spreading deceit and mystery at the Saotomes' Next up, the flirty dozen. Are these titles going to get any sillier? What does the man think he's doing? Will time really stop if Nabiki gives away money? Will Kodachi find true love? Will Tsubasa get out of the carton? Why is this getting so soapish? Where the hell are Ranma, Genma, Soun, Cologne and Happosai? Will Dr. Tofu see eye-to-eye with Kasumi before Gosunkugi takes it away? And, finally, what stories can an empty house tell? Film at 11. Please somehow send C&C. (Detach here) -------------------------------------------------------------------------
