------------------------------------------------------------------------- * Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction * Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction * Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction * ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Switch: Herbs and Spices (Chapter 12 / 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 The Flirty Dozen Daisuke waited, on the dot, under the archway of the Nerima Shopping Mall. He had actually been early, because he was getting very bored of the "summer" vacation, and mostly because he had no reason to be anywhere near where most of the martial arts matches occurred. During school days, it was easier: there was usually an announcement of sorts, usually from the desk of Nabiki Tendo. In any case, sticking within earshot of Ranma was enough to insure the daily requirement for gratuitous violence. Much as he begrudged it, martial arts composed most of his active thoughts. He and Hiroshi would occasionally make color commentaries of the regular matches Ranma had, and he was also a pretty good control-pad combatant, second only to the great Hikaru Gosunkugi. Unfortunately, like Gosunkugi, he didn't have enough guts to learn past halfway any martial art. Considering the strategy for a well-placed kick or ki-blast was not the same as teaching your body to do the exact same thing. And so, he had learned to appreciate the finer points of martial arts, like respect, concentration and discipline. The latter, unfortunately, his companions were lacking in. "Night people," he muttered, kicking a pebble on the road. Once upon a time, there was a great warrior. As with any tale including the phrases "once upon a time" and "there was a great warrior", the phrases "beautiful princess", "grave and terrible danger", "heroic rescue", and, of course, "happily ever after" are expected to follow. However, these are the nineties, after all. Fairy tales of that type are beyond passe. This great warrior, was, in fact, a beautiful princess. She was so beautiful, in fact, that all the other heroes who weren't beautiful princesses were enamored with her beauty and courage. Had she of a mind to, she would have been able to single-handedly revive the guild system of adventurers in her homeland. There were problems with that, though. First and foremost, such a guild probably would break a few union laws, and probably would never have a voice in politics. Secondly, she wasn't the only great and beautiful warrior-princess in town. Some wore long black hair, some were buxom, and, indeed, some were lawless. They weren't really happy about not having guilds of their own, but their main source of contention was some other matter. Thirdly, the other matter. She wasn't exactly a princess. She was more of a prince. And all princesses married princes. Hiroshi, on the other hand, longed for the summer vacations. "I love Nerima," he'd say, about every ten minutes, when he'd remember to say it. Getting enrolled into Furinkan High, although it would often be equivalent to being cannon fodder or getting scalped, was worth having a three-week-long break every three months. Turning a corner, he approached Daisuke from behind, asking, "the girls aren't here yet?" Daisuke stifled his mumbling "at last" by noticing their "dates" about three blocks down. "They're coming," then he pointed. "That they are, friend." Hiroshi ran a hand through his curly brown hair, whistling. "Where to first?" Daisuke glanced at his watch, which wasn't necessary since he knew that they were collectively fifteen minutes late. "Lunch." Kodachi ran a hand up Tsubasa's neck, twirling her fingers in his silky, long, light brown hair. Her head on his chest, she looked up at his face, fascinated by his lips. "You're so beautiful..." Tsubasa was somewhere lost on the Highway to Heaven. He found Kodachi's choice of perfume... arresting. "Well... I am... in an androgynous sense. I might not be handsommmmm..." Kodachi came up for air from their latest and deepest kiss. "You'll do in a pinch." "'In a pi'-YOWTCH!" Kodachi winked coyly. Tsubasa smiled nervously, removing Kodachi's hand from within the seat of his boxers. "Have you ever thought," started Akane, "of destiny?" Nabiki was nursing some body bruises she had, while Akane bandaged some of the cuts on her arms. Interaction, of course, was good; you'll never know what family would tell you when they were inclined. Akane, she knew, would always have a loose tongue after a good sparring session. She just wished that Akane would stop with the small talk. "Nope." She didn't even hesitate. Akane took another bandage from the first aid kit. "Never had a feeling that everything that happened was planned?" She couldn't resist the opening. "Like you and Ranma being engaged?" Akane shot her a look that shouted "CHEAP SHOT!" rabidly. She didn't grin at that, her eyes shouted this back. She covered it up. "Do you think that some All-Powerful Writer and his Pre-reader Bob would take the time to chronicle each and every life story?" "Well," Akane muttered blankly, "yeah." Nabiki just shook her head. "Sis, if you don't write your own story, you're probably going to blame your misgivings on others." Akane sat back, pondering these words. Nabiki smirked, having finally ended the inanities. She stood, offering a hand. "Urg." Mousse did not like sleeping on the floor. Even though he did it often, he still hadn't gotten the hang of liking it yet. He also didn't appreciate the fact that he was shoved there. "Whass the-?" He stopped to dodge a cane. Of course, since Cologne was currently on the way back from Mt. Fuji, she couldn't have been the one to give him the rude awakening. "Wha-? Wha gives?" "Dr. Tofu," Kasumi was saying, "we have to talk." The hand that shoved him dangled from the edge of the bed. Mousse was drawn to the picture in the hand. "Ka-Ka-Kasumi?!" Dr. Tofu's glasses were practically steaming. He let go of the picture. In Mousse's mind, one quite recently freed from the narrowed one- girl-for-me! perspective, quite literally, the image was heavenly-sent. Dr. Tofu jumped nearly ten feet back. "Y-you gave me k-quite a rise, there. Heh-eh." Kasumi sounded pleading, "don't run, Doctor. I need you." Dr. Tofu's brain was firmly planted in reverse. Thus, he quickly made an about-face and ran headfirst into a wall two feet away. Kasumi stood aghast. "Oh... oh my." She ran to the knocked-out moxibustionist, who had a silly grin on his face. Mousse stood, holding the picture, quite enamored and, what's more, incredibly piqued. Taking his eyes off the photo, he suddenly realized that a body had just replaced him on the bed. He gaped as he saw Kasumi standing over a prone Tofu. "Y-you...!" He gave Kasumi an openly incredulous look. Then he noticed the worried look she gave the doctor. "H-him...?" Then he refocused on the prone form, not quite certain who these people actually were. "W-who...?" Then he noticed the look he was getting from the eldest Tendo girl. "M-me...?" This was accentuated by hand gestures in the traditional manic air. Kasumi considered Mousse, saying, "you're... Ranma's friend... Mousse?" "Uh... yeah. I mean, I'm Mousse. Who are you?" "I'm Kasumi Tendo. How..." Kasumi pulled herself from routine, when she realized what she was going to say. She had inadvertently glanced down on Dr. Tofu again, which made Mousse flinch. "... well." "And... he's...?" Yuka daintily dabbed at her neck with the kerchief. Briefly, she glanced at Sayuri, who had her hair down, and thought that, maybe, she should wear her hair long. It looked cooler, too. She patted the other side of her neck, which went under Hiroshi's scrutiny. Sayuri daintily dabbed at her neck with the kerchief. Briefly, she glanced at Yuka, and thought that, maybe, she should wear her hair short. It probably kept you cooler, too. She patted the other side of her neck, which went under Hiroshi's scrutiny. Daisuke didn't pay that much attention, since he was trying to see if anyone was inside the Cat Cafe. The front door was locked shut. He couldn't see anyone from the windows in the alley, and he noticed a scuttling in a corner. He wrinkled his nose: rats. "Closed, ladies and gent." Daisuke clapped his hands clean of whatever dirt he'd picked up. "Aaaaaaaaawwwww..." was all that Hiroshi said. Sayuri gave him a leer, while Yuka stuck Daisuke a look. "Where'll we go, then?" Daisuke shrugged, "why not..." Gosunkugi had actually missed most of the ruckus by minutes, under the guise of his ever-present aura of guileless anonymity. He muttered some, "er... must be going... finding my books, that's all..." Actually, he found the books on the table in the receiving room. He was almost giddy with excitement. Saotome's hair! Several ideas of how to use it came to mind: voodoo dolls, demonic stalkers, spontaneous combustion, body/mind control, really painful ulcers... Of course, he wouldn't be looking as he came out of the clinic. *whump!* In a flurry of flying books, he was able to both not drop the file and fall on his teacher. "Mr. Gosunkugi!" From his vantage point, the diminutive English teacher loomed over him. "I would appreciate it if you looked where you where going!" "Ms. Hinako!" One does not usually meet his teacher in the middle of summer, especially his favorite teacher. He hoped he wasn't bubbling over in excitement as he stood. "Where are you off to, ma'am?" She wouldn't have noticed. "Off to check-up on my baaaaaddest student! See ya!" She shuffled along the road at his usual pace, leaving a "..." Gosunkugi. Kuno ran down the long and winding way to the Tendo dojo. Ever since he had found that they (they being the two foci of the ellipse of his life-path) had both being taking residence there, it had been easier in deciding which upon them he would grant his devotions: whoever would be the first to receive him as he came, then she would be the one blessed. A simple system, whereupon only the Goddess of Luck Herself would have sway. When the one to answer his summons from the doorway was Nabiki Tendo, he almost but not quite absolutely not considered the irony of it. "Kuno-baby! I'm sorry but there's no one home. Akane and our little redhead went to the shopping center, I'm afraid. Thanks for the roses! They're my favorite." She took the bouquets, and shut the gate before the self-appointed school ninny noticed anything about the markings on her face. "Who was that, Nabiki?" Akane shouted (impatiently) from the kitchen. "A pesky flower vendor," she fibbed, "and don't touch a thing!" She rushed back to the second half of the deal. The Okonomiyaki Ucchan's. "AAAAHHH!" The screen door buckled outward, precariously hanging off its treads. Hiroshi, who was in the lead, stopped and turned to the rest of the troop. "Uh... guys?" Another muffled scream, another table-shaped dent. "Can't we just go shop first?" A chair crashed through a window. "All for it!" They made tracks. Nerima has always had a history. It is a little known fact that, even now in modern times, these tales of olden-time adventures have been kept in record. They call her the Storyteller. Once in a while, she used to have children come over (no doubt, sent over by parents who once were sent over by their parents) to hear one of the many stories that filled her mind about her town. One that the children have always loved (because it resembled a fairy tale more than a tale of feudal Japan) was about the warrior- prince. "Once upon a time, about the same time when a monk had rescued the village from wicked foxes, there was a great and noble prince. "(Of course, he was on an errand for his lord and liege, being waited for by his ladylove, fair and true. He looked bold and daring on his noble steed.) "There was an epic battle with a fearsome enemy, and," amidst gasps and yelps that were centuries late, "there was a clash of swords that rang through the valley for days. "And, in the end, the prince fell, defeated. The foe was not a merciful one, though. The prince did not die: he fell under a curse." Like any other good story, she would stop when the going was getting good. "For next time," she'd always say. Of course, when they came back, she'd forgotten where she'd left off. "You've got it all wrong!" "What? What have I got all wrong!? WHAT?!" "C'mon, Ukyo! It's hard enough talking to you WITHOUT the furniture!" Ukyo put down the table. "So you're saying that I'm INTOLERABLE?!" "Yes! No! Dammit, stop pacing and face me!" Her eyes turned into slits. "WHAT DID YOU SAY?!" Ryoga shut his mouth and quickly reviewed the last sentence. "Uh, I mean, look at me!" Turning on her heel, she whipped into a stance of absolutely no quarter. They stared. "Ooooohhh!" Ukyo turned on her heel, and stomped to the door behind the grill. Ryoga boggled for a few seconds, before zoning back in. "Uh, Ukyo?" He ran to the door behind the grill. Tatewaki Kuno, like any young man scorned and confused by Lady Luck, went back home to charge up on his flower power, to go for another spin. Lady Luck, however, wasn't through with him. He took a wrong turn. "Why didn't we go and eat HERE in the first place?" Hiroshi cringed under the heat of the question. "I... I didn't know..." Sayuri did that blue aura thing. "I know. YOU wanted to ogle Shampoo and Ukyo, didn't you?!" "Yes! I mean, no! What's it to YOU, anyway?" "Nothing!" Sayuri started to sputter incoherently, a sure sign of breakdowns and explosions. A firm hand gripped each on the opposite shoulder. "I'm hungry," Daisuke intoned. "Really, Sayuri," Yuka soothingly said, "you two are starting to sound like... y'know..." She rolled her eyes. Daisuke broke out in laughter. The others just gave him big eyes. He winded out and calmly said, "that's funny." In response, his stomach growled. The group had a hearty laugh, as they entered the fast-food place. A sharp screech of laughter punctured his earshot. He cringed, an automatic reaction. He soon unclenched his shoulders, as soon as he could determine that they were, in fact, not laughing at his expense. "What's the matter, Mousse?" Mousse sighed in a resigned manner. "Oh, nothing really." From across the set-in table, Kasumi hid a frown. It wasn't that hard: Mousse was squinting some nine degrees off. She extracted the patties from her Big Wac, placing them neatly in the wrapper, and folded that. She noiselessly slid out of the seat. Not noiselessly enough for a half-blind martial artist, though. "Huh? Kasumi?" He was about to stand up when somebody sidled over, blocking his way out. Kasumi was minutely aware of the other people. With deft hands, she clamped Mousse's finely-muscled shoulders. Turning him in a solid and extremely unexpected motion, she had his back so vulnerably exposed. She dug deep into it. "Say... isn't that Kasumi?" Yuka nodded in acknowledgement. "And, isn't that..." *squeak* "... Mousse?!" With a similar squeal, Sayuri jumped and turned, Hiroshi all but forgotten. "Okay, okay, let's start over." *sigh* "Do we have to?" A pause. "Of course, of course. What WAS I thinking?" "Tsk, tsk. Do I hear a note of SARcasm?" *sigh* "It... it's just so..." "Demeaning?" "No." "Debilitating?" "Not really." "Impossible?" "NO WAY!" Nabiki shook her head. Three hours of hard work just to get Akane to the right temperature, down the sink. She had to a little more choosy in deciding what psychological ploy she could use. On making this omelet, there were more than just eggs broken. The bell sounded. "Akane?" Nabiki turned to stop Akane from chopping up another soft-boiled egg. "Take five. Could you answer the door? I'll... just, uh... clean up here." The blue aura disappeared. "Oh... oh, sure, Nabiki." She gingerly pushed herself from the disaster area, and began rushing to the door by the third chime. Nabiki took a stool and sagged. Little Miss Hinako Ninomiya bouncied in. "Oh, hello, Miss Tendo!" She fluttered back outside. "Bye!" After a few seconds, Akane ambled in. Nabiki pointed out the screen door. Akane nodded thanks, then ambled out that way. "Say... that's pretty, uh, good." Kasumi put in just a pinch of smile in her voice. "You're too uptight. Father says that martial arts is a combination of movements and rests." She slowly retracted her hands and shifted slightly backward. "Is it... Shampoo?" At the mention of the Amazon's name, he recoiled into a knot. "Please don't ever mention that... that word." Kasumi looked confused. "My, that wouldn't be easy. How would I buy some from the grocery?" The slip went past Mousse, who looked all the more troubled. With urgency, he motioned to slip out of the booth. "I... I've got to go." "So soon?" Kasumi sidled outward and bowed to Mousse. "Thank you very much for the meal, Mousse. I would like to invite you to eat dinner at my father's house." She straightened. "Huh?" Mousse had never been invited over... at least not by a woman. Not by... did she say like? "Sure, Ms. Kasumi! Thank you!" Giddy, he left. "What a charming young man," Kasumi said to no one. "All your fault. Stupid, macho, stubborn..." Ukyo rambled on, muttering, as she reached the door of her room. Opening it from the inside, Ryoga "Akk!"ed. Ukyo stopped. "What are you doing in my room?" she started dangerously. Ryoga peered into the face of Fury Hell Hath Nothing On. He wasn't backing down now. He whispered, "I'm here to talk... as a friend." Silence. "You know," Ukyo spoke, "you men are all alike." She chuckled softly, a mocking tone. "Friends. Do you know how often I've heard that word?" Flash: images of a carefree time. She remembered smiling and laughing. She remembered her father, her mother, the yattai which was their all. Yellowed picture memories. Flash: images of a young Ranma came to mind. Already a young man at six, bursting with healthy energy. She wondered if children they'd have kids would look as adorable, as alive. Flash: images of a departing yattai. Flash: images of new friends, and a young man who was tied to a tree trunk. Flash: images of the tree trunk, a yellow ribbon torn. Flash: images of the sea, revenge. Flash: images of Tsubasa, overlaid by a frilly dress. Images of Ryoga, overlaid by a piglet in a girl's arms. "Friends never stay friends." That said, she closed the door. The door slid open. From the other end of the room, a Voice spoke. "Come." Despite his confusion, he did as he was told. The Voice commanded, "sit." In the center of the room, a large mat was laid. Threadbare in parts, it was obviously well-worn. The room lay in a radiating darkness, offset by the fireplace set into the farther side of the room. The silhouetted figure, which obviously owned the commanding Voice, turned from stoking the flames. "It has been a while... Tatewaki." The mention of his name gave him back his ability to think, not that it was that much of a whoop. "I... I know you..." "As do I you." The figure hobbled over to a chair, and sat itself. It Spoke again, "you have come... for a story." "No." He shook himself, and started to rise. "I'm afraid... I was looking for... some roses to give..." "... to one of your true loves." He was immediately impressed. "How... how did you know?" The Voice laughed, in a small, unassuming (and, at times, painful) manner. It ended up coughing. Clearing its throat, the Voice came. "There is a story, and you have heard of it: the one with the cursed prince. This one, however, is about the princess. "On the eve of his fatal battle, the princess gave the prince a lock of her hair. 'If,' she said, 'you do not return, may you return this when we meet in the afterlife.' "'But,' the prince asked, 'if I do return?' "'Then, return it to me at our wedding.' "With a kiss, she bade him to leave for battle, and to his fate. "For days and weeks, she waited for his return, without avail. "In his absence, the princess fell ill, as she lost all manner of reason for living." The Voice paused. "It was at this time that the prince, cursed as he was, returned. He feared that he was scarred too much for the princess to recognize, and that her rapidly deteriorating health would take her from this world too soon. "In his desperation, he went to a shugenja, the wizard of the fief. Using an oracle, the shugenja saw the prince in his true form. "He was told, 'under the light of a blue moon, drink of her, and she will see herself in you. She will understand.' "Of the lock of hair, they prepared an elixir. And on the blue moon... hey, where are you going?" Kuno was gone before the figure could stand. The Voice sighed. "Young'uns." Grabbing a ladle and a bucket, the Voice ambled off into the decaying daylight, onto the street, and she splashed and splattered, waiting for the next legend to come along.
