October 5, 1997
10:20 AM
"You want me to WHAT?"
Surprised at seeing only empty space in front of her, Setsuna turned her head towards the
voice that came from the living room, her hands still against the wall. She was sure she
hadn't blinked, so how did he get away so fast? She ran out after him.
"You have got to be kidding me! Do you have any idea what's waiting back home for
me –" three fiancées, two Kunos, a pig, a duck, and a panda, plus a whole slew of deities
whom he was sure he had offended in his past life to land him in all the mess he'd just
left behind, his thought completed the sentence that he did not finish. "You, you –"
Ranma sputtered as he struggled for words, then took a few deep breaths to cool down
when he found none. "No," he declared, "Absolutely no freaking way."
Finding her target backed up against the wall on the other end, she moved in to catch him.
Ranma fled into the space between the piano and the wall.
"You don't understand," Setsuna said as she trailed after him, hands clutched to the front
of her skirt and raising it slightly. "My parents and relatives are all at the ceremony
already, and you don't know how much I'd get laughed at if they found out I got jilted on
my wedding day! Plus," she went on, "if you'd just wear a pair of glasses and go without
shaving for a week or two, you'd look close enough to my fiancée anyway." She placed
herself squarely on the other side of the grand piano, waiting to see which way he'd go.
"Oh, and lose the pigtail too," she added as an afterthought, "but we still have time to
take care of that right now."
Ranma stared at her incredulously. "You're not touching my hair," he said protectively,
then made his move.
He feinted to the left. She dashed to her right.
He doubled back to the right. She followed to her left.
An impasse.
Seeing that this was going nowhere fast, Ranma tried another tactic. "Look," he said as
soothingly as he could under the situation, "you're not thinking this through carefully. I
mean, you're probably a really nice girl and all, and pretty cute–" No, not going there
again; he'd said the same thing to Ukyou and look where it got him in the end. Pausing
for a moment to collect his thoughts, he finally said, "No. This is not going to work.
Besides, Takuya might have changed his mind. In fact, he's probably waiting at the
square for you right now."
"But, the letter –"
"–was a mistake," Ranma interjected, "Like I said, Takuya's probably turned around. I
lived with him for a year, and I never saw him bring any girls home." That includes you,
he almost added, but thankfully held back at the last second. Instead, he simply said, "He
just didn't look the type that would play around."
Truthfully, Takuya didn't look the type of just about anything, Ranma couldn't help but
remember; the guy kept to himself so much that sometimes Ranma wondered whether he
lived in the other room at all.
"But, what if –" she tried to protest again, her tone weaker this time.
Sensing that he'd somehow gotten the upper hand, he didn't give her the chance to finish
her objection. "It's not about the 'what-ifs', Meiou-san. You have to make sure."
Setsuna went still. "You really think he's there?" She asked after a moment.
"I'm positive." He was anything but.
"…okay," she agreed at last.
The room fell silent again, leaving the two to their thoughts. And a chance to really
notice each other's presence again.
Setsuna looked at Ranma. Ranma looked at Setsuna's leg.
Setsuna slowly brought her right leg down from the top of the piano, where she had
attempted to climb over earlier. "I, uh, I guess I made a fool of myself back there."
Ranma found it amazing that she could say something like that without actually sounding
one bit embarrassed. He nodded.
"You don't have to agree, you know?" She snapped.
He nodded again.
"Anyway," she started in a slightly miffed tone, then softened. "I'm sorry about the
piano."
"Oh… don't worry 'bout it. It's not like it got broken or anything," Ranma said
dismissively. Would've been a completely different story if I didn't stop you back there
though, he noted to himself.
Setsuna afforded another look at the thing. It looked almost ridiculously massive
compared to the rest of the living room. "This… is not just a hobby, is it?" She swept
her arm in an arc in the air, vaguely pointing at the large instrument.
"Yeah, I'm a music major at Gedai." Seeing that she looked slightly surprised for some
reason, he clarified. "Actually, I've got a competition to go to this afternoon too." Ironic,
he thought; the way the sun cast a lone beam through the window and onto the bench just
now made it look almost like a spotlight in a concert hall.
"I see…" she nodded absently. "I was never good with music back at school," she
admitted. Then, curiosity piqued, she asked, "Hmm, a piano competition? You must be
pretty good then. Can you play something?"
"What, now?" He turned to her, startled. Seeing another nod, he let out a small chuckle
that sounded more like a sigh, before turning his eyes off to the sides and clucking his
tongue softly. "Um, no," he declined, "I don't think that's such a good idea. I mean, I've
never really played for any person in particular before." A bit disappointed, she
nevertheless nodded again in understanding. "Besides," he reminded her, "don't you
have a wedding in like ten minutes?"
Setsuna's eyes widened at that. She hiked up her skirt and rushed for the door.
"Wait!" Ranma stopped her. She looked back questioningly. "You left your, uh, head,"
he explained, one hand waving the wig and headdress he'd picked up from the couch.
"Here."
"Oh." She took the thing back, struggling briefly as she tried to bundle her hair together
with one hand and set the headpiece back on her head with the other. "This looks okay?"
"Sure," Ranma shrugged.
"Thanks." She headed out once more.
"Wait!" He called out after her again. "Um, do you have any money – for the taxi?"
Seeing her blank stare, Ranma fished for his wallet in his pocket and drew out two
thousand-yen notes. "Here," he said.
Setsuna regarded him with an expression that he couldn't quite make out. "I'll pay you
back." She took the bills from his hand and stuffed them into the folds of the robe down
her front.
Pausing slightly as she reached outside, Setsuna turned back to face him one last time.
"Saotome-san?"
"Good luck at the contest," she said. Then she left.
x x x
After he'd made sure the woman was finally gone, Ranma closed the front door and
slowly sagged against it. How the hell he'd gotten out of that one, he had no idea. He
did feel a small pang of guilt, though, lying the way he did at the end just to get her to
leave. Well, he thought to himself, it doesn't matter anyway; it's not like I'm going to
see her again anytime soon.
He straightened himself up, finding some amusement at what had just happened. It had
almost made him feel like he was back at the Tendo's again. A stray thought came to
him suddenly. Hmm, I wonder what Akane's doing right now? He stopped himself,
however, before it could go any further. Best not think about things like that, he decided,
then locked the door behind him.
Sighing, he walked back to the piano bench and sat down. He still had a contest to win.
.
.
.
.
TIMED VACATION
.
.
Chapter Two
.
Opening Theme: Close to You (Instrumental)
Composed by: CAGNET
.
.
1
October 29, 1997
3:45 PM
The near-tropical weather three Sundays ago proved to be an aberration.
Since that day, the temperature outside had dropped steadily. On the streets, thin jackets
were gradually replaced by heavy coats and scarves as people went about their daily
business, and when it rained one night last week there were thin strips of ice on the road
the next morning. Tokyo had yet to see snow this year, but in the rustling of the bald
branches all over town you could hear the promise that it wouldn't be long in coming.
On this afternoon, when a particularly harsh wind was busy scraping small garbage down
the sidewalks and tearing posters from lampposts and telephone poles, and not a few
children wearing wool hats and puffy-looking jackets clattered their teeth from behind a
pair of mittens, Saotome Ranma, in a black overcoat with a white scarf around his neck,
was making his way back home in a hurry. A year of practice in socialization had at least
taught him to dress accordingly for the weather if he didn't want to stand out like a sore
thumb in a crowd, like the first time he showed up to teach lessons part-time at the piano
store nearby in his sleeveless red silk shirt and black kung-fu pants. However, that didn't
mean that he had to like what he was wearing. It made him feel almost unbearably hot.
He had nearly made it past the small outdoor basketball court behind his apartment
building before the sight of a pair of shapely legs stopped him in his tracks, if only for the
fact that they were noticeably not covered by any piece of clothing under a wind that'd
make most people wish they had been wearing their blankets on the way to work. He
slowly traced his gaze from the ground up.
Hmm, a pair of white sneakers, check. Looks pretty new. Short socks, check. Bare legs
with a bit of varicose veins, check… wait, how far up does the flesh go? Never mind, got
a flower-print mini-skirt there, check. A piece of ass that would've won awards
compared to even his better-figured fiancées back in Nerima, check…
I can't believe I just thought that, Ranma shook his head and mentally berated himself
before going back to his brief inspection.
Red, silk blouse underneath a plain white spring jacket, check. Green hair that went
down the back past the shoulders, check. Slender neck, connected to a slightly angular
chin, check. Round, full lips blooming blood-red from the lipstick, check. Nose that
conveyed an impression of nobility, check. Red irises staring intently back at him, check.
"Long time no see," Setsuna said, full lips curving slightly upward at the ends into a
small smile.
x x x
"M-Meiou-san?" Ranma asked, startled. She nodded eagerly. He looked at her again. It
was hard to picture that the smiling woman in front of him was the distraught bride-to-be
who nearly smashed his piano three weeks ago on her wild manhunt.
"How did the wedding go?" He asked. Then, flashing her a grin, he said, "Should I call
you 'Yamaguchi-san' now?"
"Yamaguchi," she agreed, before adding softly to the side, "if I were married, that is."
Not catching the last part, Ranma carried on with the small talk. "Oh… congratulations
then. So, what brings you here to the neighborhood?"
"Oh, that…" her serene composure slipped slightly as she tried to come up with an
answer. "I was just wandering around town." Then, smiling again, she said, "I was
surprised to bump into you just now."
The pigtailed young man nodded. "Right." Then, taking off the scarf and tugging at the
collar of his shirt under the coat uncomfortably, he said, "Um, sorry, I've got to go now.
Nice to meet you though."
"Ah." Setsuna said, nodding. "Goodbye." She waved a hand at him.
"Bye," he mimicked her and waved, before turning back and went on around the corner
to the front of the building. She trailed behind him for a few more steps. "Goodbye," she
said, still waving.
"Er, right. Bye." He turned around once more and headed inside.
x x x
Ranma had barely time to kick off his shoes and hang up his coat before the doorbell rang.
Frowning, he closed the closet and reached for the door. "Who the – Meiou-san?" Again?
Didn't she say goodbye to him outside already? "Uh, what can I do for you?"
Still smiling, Setsuna took out two thousand-yen notes from her purse. "I forgot to pay
you back."
"You don't have to –" Ranma's protest was cut off as she reached over and placed the
bills squarely inside the breast pocket of his shirt. "–um, thanks, I guess," he said tiredly,
sensing that arguing the matter would probably end up being another waste of time.
Hopefully she would go now that she'd finished with her business. She smiled brightly.
And she was still standing outside.
Seeing that she still didn't intend to leave yet, he started. "Uh," he said, a bit
uncomfortably, "I'm sorry, I'm in the middle of changing, so…" he trailed off, hoping
that the unspoken request was plain enough.
"Oh... okay." He sighed in relief at that, and made a move to close the door.
x x x
"What – what in the world are you doing?" He asked, grunting to keep the door closed.
The woman was surprisingly strong.
"Asking you a favor," she replied between gasps, trying to gain more leverage and
squeeze through the opening her leg had made in the doorway.
Momentarily speechless, Ranma shot back as he recovered. "This is how you always ask
for favors?"
"You don't understand!" By now, any hint of the Setsuna who was calmly smiling at
everything outside his apartment had utterly vanished; in her stead was the maniacal
woman he remembered all too well from their first encounter.
"I don't want to under–" he started to yell back, but was surprised by a horn blaring from
just outside the window. Setsuna put his temporary distraction to good use and wrestled
past him. "The movers," she said quickly, heading straight to the window. Somewhere
along the line, Ranma had discovered that this whole thing was starting to feel very
familiar.
She lifted the screen up and looked down. Three middle-aged men stood by the side of
the road behind a small truck. Next to them on the sidewalk was a large sofa they'd
unloaded already. "Hey, lady!" One of them looked up at her and yelled. "Where are
we going to put all this?"
"Give me a minute," she yelled out at them, "I'm taking care of it right now!" She
ducked back inside.
x x x
"…And then?" Ranma had settled himself down on the couch, regarding the woman
pacing about animatedly in the living room. This could take a while, he thought. He
absently noted that instead of circles, she was walking in squares this time.
"What else? I went back, and he was a no-show," Setsuna grounded out, eyes blazing,
nostrils flaring, hands on her hips, her posture strikingly close to that of a disgruntled
housewife. "I told my folks that Takuya's little sister –"
"He has a sister?"
"No, but they didn't know that." She waved a hand dismissively and continued.
"Anyway, his sister – who's supposed to be kind of retarded, by the way, drove her car
into a ditch on her way here, and since she lived out west in the country where the buses
would take forever to get to Tokyo, she figured she could walk into the middle of a
railroad crossing and hail down a train instead."
Ranma twitched an eyebrow. "And then?"
"…so now she's in a coma in the hospital, and he canceled the wedding at the last
moment to see her when he found out about it."
"…And your people bought all that crap?"
"It took a little convincing, but they more or less swallowed the thing. Plus," she added,
"I told them I was going to the hospital to see him and his sister and left before anybody
could think of tagging along."
"What about his folks? Didn't anybody show up from Takuya's side?"
"We didn't invite them, and they wouldn't come anyway. He split up with his parents
ages ago, and he's got no other relatives. But that's not the point," Setsuna said, bringing
the topic back on track. "The point is, I forgot that I've given him my whole bank
account earlier to help foot the expense since he told me he was going to handle all the
planning, and by the time I got back home I found out that my account's been cleaned
out."
"And then?"
"And then I got kicked out of my apartment," she said anticlimactically. "Since I was
going to move in with him, I thought I'd terminate my apartment lease early and so I
gave the landlord the notice last month, and when I told her after the wedding that I was
going to stay, she told me that she's already signed the lease with the new tenants and
that I have to leave by today."
"…And then?"
"And I thought I could live with a friend from work for a while, but she's married already
and she told me their place was really small, and the walls were really thin…"
"…And then?"
"And then I remembered you. So I thought, hey, this is perfect; you've got an empty
room, and I've got a bunch of furniture. So I told the movers to come here."
Ranma rubbed his temples.
Sensing that he was on the edge of caving in, Setsuna decided to go for the kill. "On top
of that," she said pitifully, a sniffle all of a sudden working its way into her voice, "I just
realized that today is my birthday, and I don't even have enough money to buy a cake."
"…Are you pulling my leg?" He asked.
"No, honest," she said, "It's my birthday today."
She took a peek at him. He had his head buried in his hands.
"Hey, lady!" The men from down below suddenly yelled out again. They'd been waiting
for nearly twenty minutes now, and their patience was wearing thin. "Your furniture!"
Setsuna poked her head out of the window, a contented smile on her face. She held a
thumb up triumphantly.
The workers cheered.
.
.
2
October 29, 1997
9:29 PM
Ranma eyed the damage.
An extra couch – a nylon-cushioned two-seater in some wacky deco style – sat next to his
own in the living room.
Twelve – he counted – ladies' coats of varying lengths, colors, and fashions, in the closet.
He had two. His old roommate's favorite raincoat was moved far to the other end of the
hanger.
Twelve pairs of shoes to match the jackets. Out of the dozen, eleven were pumps. The
remaining one was the pair of white sneakers she wore. More than half of them were left
out by the foyer in neat display rows because his one-row shoe rack couldn't fit.
On top of that, ten wooden crates of… something, stacked five-high by the wall between
the bathroom and Takuya's old bedroom.
Bound, old issues of magazines, ranging from fashion to wedding to modeling to
maternity to contemporary physics, lying everywhere on the floor.
He didn't even want to think of what her room looked like. How the movers got that
huge grand-oak dresser in and still found space to dump the mattress and table and three
standing lamps in the same hundred-square-feet area, he had no idea.
Finally, his eyes fell upon the other occupant of the room.
Setsuna, sprawled out on her sofa, head falling backward and arms draping the cushions,
an opened issue of Modern Physics covering her face, was looking right at home. She
wriggled her toes.
"…um, Meiou-san?" he asked weakly.
Setsuna slowly brought her head forward, letting the magazine fall to the floor. "Hmm?
Oh, right, I know. This only lasts until I get a good enough job that I can live by myself,
or somehow find a cheap place I can live in." She yawned, then belatedly brought up a
hand to cover it. "Sorry. It's been a long day."
Ranma stared. "The movers did all the work, you know?"
She shrugged. "I got tired just watching them move. Besides, I'm relaxing for them.
I'm sure they'd appreciate it."
She picked herself off the couch and stretched, fussing her hair with one hand. Then,
suddenly remembering something, she looked at him curiously. "Say, Saotome-san," she
asked, "you said the other day that you couldn't go through with the wedding because
you've got something back home…" she trailed off, a finger tapping her chin in thought.
"So, what is it? A girlfriend?"
"A fiancée," he stopped himself too late and said.
Setsuna nodded appreciatively. "I see…" she smiled a little teasing smile. "I was
wondering why a good looking young man like you weren't attached in any way."
Ranma shrank back instinctively, honed by years of experience from dealing with hoards
of females waiting to drag him off to the altar the moment he let down his guard. "Hey!
Don't get any ideas."
"As if." She waved a hand, a gesture that he was becoming accustomed to by now. "I
don't go for younger men."
Feeling somehow slighted, Ranma's old ego resurfaced and prompted him for a retort.
"Perfect," he said, "I don't go for older women either. On the other hand," he added,
smirking, "it's a different story if the girl is classy, beautiful, and mature."
Her smile frozen on her face, Setsuna's eyes flashed dangerously for a moment. Then,
realizing that she's been led off-track, she recovered instantly and pressed on. "Anyway,
about that fiancée… is she cute?"
Ranma stiffened. He wasn't going to slip up again. "I don't want to talk about it," he
said guardedly.
"Come on," she pressed again, trying to test how far she could push the button, "you can
tell me… what's it like? Love at first sight?"
"I said, 'I don't want to talk about it,'" he repeated, louder this time.
"Pfeh," she said, "It's not like it's a big deal. After all, we're going to be living together,
so we might as well get to know each other a little. Unless…" she trailed off, feigning
shock. "Unless you're cheating on her?"
Ranma gaped at the woman. Letting her stay was one thing, this was another. "Are you
always this pushy?" He asked heatedly, the stress of the whole day getting the better of
him. "It's no wonder Takuya left you." Not seeing the stunned expression on her face,
he went on. "I mean, I already had to put up with you barging in here and all, not to
mention all the stuff you brought with you, but this –" he looked at her, finally aware that
the other end of the living room had gone completely quiet.
Outside, a drizzle started.
"I see." Setsuna said finally, all warmth and earlier mirth devoid on her face. She
walked into her new room, and came back out a few seconds later with a purse in hand.
Knowing that he had just put his foot in his mouth yet again, Ranma asked with a mixture
of dread and apology in his voice, "Uh, what are you doing?"
Sliding the closet door open, Setsuna picked out the white jacket she wore earlier. "I'm
moving out," she said matter-of-factly without looking at him. She stepped into her
sneakers, jamming her heels into the shoes when her feet wouldn't go in instantly.
"Thank you for putting up with me," she said, bowing formally. "I apologize for the
intrusion. I'll pick up the rest of my stuff tomorrow."
Ranma ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "But… you just moved in today!" He
protested, only to be left with a perfect view of the empty stairs outside through the open
door.
x x x
Damned crazy chick, he thought. Who did she think she was, taking off like that after he
told her to mind her own business? For that matter, who did she think she was, coming
here in the first place and dumping all her stuff in his apartment?
Not my fault, he said to himself. Not my fault that she got dumped; not my fault that she
should be eating her birthday cake with Takuya somewhere off in god-knows-where on
their honeymoon right now. This was not my fault.
The rain seemed to agree. It began to pour.
He peered through the window. She had turned the corner and was walking down
towards the basketball court with her head down. Her suit was wet, and her dark green
hair clung to her jacket like a damp mop.
I'm not going out there, he thought.
x x x
"Meiou-san!" Ranma called out, carefully keeping his head inside the apartment as he
opened the window.
Setsuna stopped, not looking up. "What?"
"You're going to catch a cold," he said. "Come back."
She took another step forward.
"Wait!" He yelled again.
She paused. "Now what?"
"It's raining," he pointed out.
Setsuna shut her eyes in irritation. An empty soda can left out as trash on the sidewalk
crumpled under her foot. She gave it a good kick, and kept on walking.
The can of Pepsi clattered noisily on the pavement. Nearby, startled by the commotion, a
few doves took to the air from the wire they were perching upon, squawking their
objection all the way.
x x x
(Who the hell just did that?)
(Geez, as if the rain wasn't enough… Dammit, I'm trying to sleep!)
(Hey, it's that woman from a few weeks ago.)
(You mean…)
(…)
(…)
(…)
(Well, what are we going to do about it?)
.
.
3
October 29, 1997
9:38 PM
Outside, by the vacant basketball court, Setsuna wiped a hand angrily across her face to
clear out the rain. This was turning out to be one of the worst birthdays she could ever
remember.
Not even a month earlier, she had indulged herself in some sweet thoughts about
candlelight dinners, whispers by the fireside, and not a few snuggles in the dark. It was
not some thoughts that should have rightfully belonged to her, but back then she had
already resigned to live her life out as a normal person and was caught in the moment,
awash in giddiness with the prospect of getting married. Like a normal person.
Letting a dry laugh escape from her throat, Setsuna picked up her feet and resumed
walking.
Well, the birthday's shot, she thought as she started down the sidewalk once more,
picking out all the things that had gone wrong in the past month with her fingers. The
wedding's gone, too. So was the bank account. And my stuff's still back there as well.
At least I have a birthday song playing.
Her feet carried her a few paces further before they came to a halt.
Wait, a birthday song?
x x x
Inside the apartment, Ranma let his fingers linger on the keys for the last note before
drawing them away.
He started another song.
x x x
The dim light from the lampposts cast a long shadow on the sidewalk, set upon the paler
shades of crisscrossing wires that had been there earlier in the night.
Leaning against the fence by the empty court, Setsuna listened to the music floating past
the windows down the streets below. It wasn't any tune that she recognized, but that
didn't matter in the slightest. As unfamiliar as she was with music, Setsuna could
immediately see the skill of the player behind the song; the way the notes went crisp and
poignant even as the melody climbed into a maddeningly complex crescendo, then
streamed out in a gentle flow as the tension dispersed spoke of the level of mastery
needed to execute the piece.
More, the music sang to her. It was not quite like the jazzy pieces she heard Haruka play,
seemingly a lifetime ago, and not quite like the classical songs with regular beats and
cadence that her boss sometimes listened to at work; it was a strange and pleasant blend
of both – formal, like sunset, and free-flowing, like the last cloud that chased the sun over
the horizon and into the night. Memories of Sailor Pluto flashed by her eyes, and she was
suddenly there – at the palace, in the ballroom, the grand gala commencing as dusk
settled in the sky outside the mosaic glass panes. She was standing, as usual, alone in the
crowd, keeping a sharp eye on the various nobilities and dignitaries in the court, watching
the other senshi waltz by her, waiting for the slightest gesture from the Queen to appear
at her side and do her bidding. And the song, pushing past the throng, found her this time,
made a formal bow and extended a hand. May I have this dance? It asked.
She closed her eyes.
I've traded my chance at marriage and my bank account for two birthday songs, a
thought came to her impulsively. Then, realizing the ridiculousness of the thought, and a
little surprised at how un-bitter she was at it even if it were true, she smiled.
The trickling of the last few notes ebbed away as the song faded to a stop. Apology
accepted, she thought fondly, but perhaps this was for the best. Goodbye, Saotome-san.
Refreshed, and not a bit disappointed, Setsuna let her eyes open again and gingerly
pushed herself away from the fence. A sudden, unwarranted sense of confidence surged
through her, and she started down the road once more, ready to take on whatever
challenges that life would throw at her again.
She was not ready, however, for a wing in her face.
.
.
4
October 29, 1997
9:58 PM
The door to the apartment was yanked open, then slammed shut in an instant.
"You're back," Ranma grunted from the bench.
Setsuna was too busy trying to recover her breath to make any coherent replies, however.
With feathers in her wet hair, a few scratches and tears on her white jacket, and some bird
droppings mixed in with the rainwater on her face, she took a few gasps of air before she
started screaming at him. "There were some crazy homicidal birds out there trying to kill
me!" She pointed at the door in shocked outrage and said, clearly frightened.
Then, after she had feverishly patted away the last traces of her recent avian assault,
Setsuna calmed down considerably. Trying to muster whatever anger she harbored from
earlier at the young man at the piano, she drew a curious blank, which she noted was an
unacceptable answer. She finally settled with crossing her arms in front of her chest and
a neutral expression on her face. "Anyway," she said, concentrating to maintain the
frown she wore on her face, "I thought you said you don't like to play for anybody in
particular."
Ranma paused in thought. "…I make exceptions for birthdays." He said at last. Then,
fully taking note of her current state, he added, barely stifling a laugh, "Bathroom's down
that way."
x x x
Outside, an hour later, the downpour showed no sign of slowing down anytime soon.
A few birds were dancing on the sidewalk.
(Wahahahaha, did you see the look on her face when I caught her with that uppercut?
Sho-ryu-ken, baby, sho-ryu-ken!)
(C'mon, let's go! My feathers are all drenched.)
(Hmm. Well, that explains where that other piece of poppy seed mochi went. On the
other hand, though, I did manage to get past that constipation problem I've been having
lately. They just don't make bread crumbs like they used to.)
(Screw the crumbs! Did you see, eh, did you see? I bitch-slapped her good! Hahahaha!
Tatsumaki-sempuu-kya–)
(All right, we get the idea! Let's go!)
The lights from the third floor window grew faint, then slowly went out. Beyond the
heavy rain, and the few celebratory cries and sounds of flapping wings intermittently
throughout the night, it was a relatively quiet evening in the neighborhood.
.
(END CHAPTER)
.
.
Special thanks to: Figment again, and Thermopyle as well for pre-read and excellent
suggestions on how to approach the piano scene near the end.
.
- ukie
10:20 AM
"You want me to WHAT?"
Surprised at seeing only empty space in front of her, Setsuna turned her head towards the
voice that came from the living room, her hands still against the wall. She was sure she
hadn't blinked, so how did he get away so fast? She ran out after him.
"You have got to be kidding me! Do you have any idea what's waiting back home for
me –" three fiancées, two Kunos, a pig, a duck, and a panda, plus a whole slew of deities
whom he was sure he had offended in his past life to land him in all the mess he'd just
left behind, his thought completed the sentence that he did not finish. "You, you –"
Ranma sputtered as he struggled for words, then took a few deep breaths to cool down
when he found none. "No," he declared, "Absolutely no freaking way."
Finding her target backed up against the wall on the other end, she moved in to catch him.
Ranma fled into the space between the piano and the wall.
"You don't understand," Setsuna said as she trailed after him, hands clutched to the front
of her skirt and raising it slightly. "My parents and relatives are all at the ceremony
already, and you don't know how much I'd get laughed at if they found out I got jilted on
my wedding day! Plus," she went on, "if you'd just wear a pair of glasses and go without
shaving for a week or two, you'd look close enough to my fiancée anyway." She placed
herself squarely on the other side of the grand piano, waiting to see which way he'd go.
"Oh, and lose the pigtail too," she added as an afterthought, "but we still have time to
take care of that right now."
Ranma stared at her incredulously. "You're not touching my hair," he said protectively,
then made his move.
He feinted to the left. She dashed to her right.
He doubled back to the right. She followed to her left.
An impasse.
Seeing that this was going nowhere fast, Ranma tried another tactic. "Look," he said as
soothingly as he could under the situation, "you're not thinking this through carefully. I
mean, you're probably a really nice girl and all, and pretty cute–" No, not going there
again; he'd said the same thing to Ukyou and look where it got him in the end. Pausing
for a moment to collect his thoughts, he finally said, "No. This is not going to work.
Besides, Takuya might have changed his mind. In fact, he's probably waiting at the
square for you right now."
"But, the letter –"
"–was a mistake," Ranma interjected, "Like I said, Takuya's probably turned around. I
lived with him for a year, and I never saw him bring any girls home." That includes you,
he almost added, but thankfully held back at the last second. Instead, he simply said, "He
just didn't look the type that would play around."
Truthfully, Takuya didn't look the type of just about anything, Ranma couldn't help but
remember; the guy kept to himself so much that sometimes Ranma wondered whether he
lived in the other room at all.
"But, what if –" she tried to protest again, her tone weaker this time.
Sensing that he'd somehow gotten the upper hand, he didn't give her the chance to finish
her objection. "It's not about the 'what-ifs', Meiou-san. You have to make sure."
Setsuna went still. "You really think he's there?" She asked after a moment.
"I'm positive." He was anything but.
"…okay," she agreed at last.
The room fell silent again, leaving the two to their thoughts. And a chance to really
notice each other's presence again.
Setsuna looked at Ranma. Ranma looked at Setsuna's leg.
Setsuna slowly brought her right leg down from the top of the piano, where she had
attempted to climb over earlier. "I, uh, I guess I made a fool of myself back there."
Ranma found it amazing that she could say something like that without actually sounding
one bit embarrassed. He nodded.
"You don't have to agree, you know?" She snapped.
He nodded again.
"Anyway," she started in a slightly miffed tone, then softened. "I'm sorry about the
piano."
"Oh… don't worry 'bout it. It's not like it got broken or anything," Ranma said
dismissively. Would've been a completely different story if I didn't stop you back there
though, he noted to himself.
Setsuna afforded another look at the thing. It looked almost ridiculously massive
compared to the rest of the living room. "This… is not just a hobby, is it?" She swept
her arm in an arc in the air, vaguely pointing at the large instrument.
"Yeah, I'm a music major at Gedai." Seeing that she looked slightly surprised for some
reason, he clarified. "Actually, I've got a competition to go to this afternoon too." Ironic,
he thought; the way the sun cast a lone beam through the window and onto the bench just
now made it look almost like a spotlight in a concert hall.
"I see…" she nodded absently. "I was never good with music back at school," she
admitted. Then, curiosity piqued, she asked, "Hmm, a piano competition? You must be
pretty good then. Can you play something?"
"What, now?" He turned to her, startled. Seeing another nod, he let out a small chuckle
that sounded more like a sigh, before turning his eyes off to the sides and clucking his
tongue softly. "Um, no," he declined, "I don't think that's such a good idea. I mean, I've
never really played for any person in particular before." A bit disappointed, she
nevertheless nodded again in understanding. "Besides," he reminded her, "don't you
have a wedding in like ten minutes?"
Setsuna's eyes widened at that. She hiked up her skirt and rushed for the door.
"Wait!" Ranma stopped her. She looked back questioningly. "You left your, uh, head,"
he explained, one hand waving the wig and headdress he'd picked up from the couch.
"Here."
"Oh." She took the thing back, struggling briefly as she tried to bundle her hair together
with one hand and set the headpiece back on her head with the other. "This looks okay?"
"Sure," Ranma shrugged.
"Thanks." She headed out once more.
"Wait!" He called out after her again. "Um, do you have any money – for the taxi?"
Seeing her blank stare, Ranma fished for his wallet in his pocket and drew out two
thousand-yen notes. "Here," he said.
Setsuna regarded him with an expression that he couldn't quite make out. "I'll pay you
back." She took the bills from his hand and stuffed them into the folds of the robe down
her front.
Pausing slightly as she reached outside, Setsuna turned back to face him one last time.
"Saotome-san?"
"Good luck at the contest," she said. Then she left.
x x x
After he'd made sure the woman was finally gone, Ranma closed the front door and
slowly sagged against it. How the hell he'd gotten out of that one, he had no idea. He
did feel a small pang of guilt, though, lying the way he did at the end just to get her to
leave. Well, he thought to himself, it doesn't matter anyway; it's not like I'm going to
see her again anytime soon.
He straightened himself up, finding some amusement at what had just happened. It had
almost made him feel like he was back at the Tendo's again. A stray thought came to
him suddenly. Hmm, I wonder what Akane's doing right now? He stopped himself,
however, before it could go any further. Best not think about things like that, he decided,
then locked the door behind him.
Sighing, he walked back to the piano bench and sat down. He still had a contest to win.
.
.
.
.
TIMED VACATION
.
.
Chapter Two
.
Opening Theme: Close to You (Instrumental)
Composed by: CAGNET
.
.
1
October 29, 1997
3:45 PM
The near-tropical weather three Sundays ago proved to be an aberration.
Since that day, the temperature outside had dropped steadily. On the streets, thin jackets
were gradually replaced by heavy coats and scarves as people went about their daily
business, and when it rained one night last week there were thin strips of ice on the road
the next morning. Tokyo had yet to see snow this year, but in the rustling of the bald
branches all over town you could hear the promise that it wouldn't be long in coming.
On this afternoon, when a particularly harsh wind was busy scraping small garbage down
the sidewalks and tearing posters from lampposts and telephone poles, and not a few
children wearing wool hats and puffy-looking jackets clattered their teeth from behind a
pair of mittens, Saotome Ranma, in a black overcoat with a white scarf around his neck,
was making his way back home in a hurry. A year of practice in socialization had at least
taught him to dress accordingly for the weather if he didn't want to stand out like a sore
thumb in a crowd, like the first time he showed up to teach lessons part-time at the piano
store nearby in his sleeveless red silk shirt and black kung-fu pants. However, that didn't
mean that he had to like what he was wearing. It made him feel almost unbearably hot.
He had nearly made it past the small outdoor basketball court behind his apartment
building before the sight of a pair of shapely legs stopped him in his tracks, if only for the
fact that they were noticeably not covered by any piece of clothing under a wind that'd
make most people wish they had been wearing their blankets on the way to work. He
slowly traced his gaze from the ground up.
Hmm, a pair of white sneakers, check. Looks pretty new. Short socks, check. Bare legs
with a bit of varicose veins, check… wait, how far up does the flesh go? Never mind, got
a flower-print mini-skirt there, check. A piece of ass that would've won awards
compared to even his better-figured fiancées back in Nerima, check…
I can't believe I just thought that, Ranma shook his head and mentally berated himself
before going back to his brief inspection.
Red, silk blouse underneath a plain white spring jacket, check. Green hair that went
down the back past the shoulders, check. Slender neck, connected to a slightly angular
chin, check. Round, full lips blooming blood-red from the lipstick, check. Nose that
conveyed an impression of nobility, check. Red irises staring intently back at him, check.
"Long time no see," Setsuna said, full lips curving slightly upward at the ends into a
small smile.
x x x
"M-Meiou-san?" Ranma asked, startled. She nodded eagerly. He looked at her again. It
was hard to picture that the smiling woman in front of him was the distraught bride-to-be
who nearly smashed his piano three weeks ago on her wild manhunt.
"How did the wedding go?" He asked. Then, flashing her a grin, he said, "Should I call
you 'Yamaguchi-san' now?"
"Yamaguchi," she agreed, before adding softly to the side, "if I were married, that is."
Not catching the last part, Ranma carried on with the small talk. "Oh… congratulations
then. So, what brings you here to the neighborhood?"
"Oh, that…" her serene composure slipped slightly as she tried to come up with an
answer. "I was just wandering around town." Then, smiling again, she said, "I was
surprised to bump into you just now."
The pigtailed young man nodded. "Right." Then, taking off the scarf and tugging at the
collar of his shirt under the coat uncomfortably, he said, "Um, sorry, I've got to go now.
Nice to meet you though."
"Ah." Setsuna said, nodding. "Goodbye." She waved a hand at him.
"Bye," he mimicked her and waved, before turning back and went on around the corner
to the front of the building. She trailed behind him for a few more steps. "Goodbye," she
said, still waving.
"Er, right. Bye." He turned around once more and headed inside.
x x x
Ranma had barely time to kick off his shoes and hang up his coat before the doorbell rang.
Frowning, he closed the closet and reached for the door. "Who the – Meiou-san?" Again?
Didn't she say goodbye to him outside already? "Uh, what can I do for you?"
Still smiling, Setsuna took out two thousand-yen notes from her purse. "I forgot to pay
you back."
"You don't have to –" Ranma's protest was cut off as she reached over and placed the
bills squarely inside the breast pocket of his shirt. "–um, thanks, I guess," he said tiredly,
sensing that arguing the matter would probably end up being another waste of time.
Hopefully she would go now that she'd finished with her business. She smiled brightly.
And she was still standing outside.
Seeing that she still didn't intend to leave yet, he started. "Uh," he said, a bit
uncomfortably, "I'm sorry, I'm in the middle of changing, so…" he trailed off, hoping
that the unspoken request was plain enough.
"Oh... okay." He sighed in relief at that, and made a move to close the door.
x x x
"What – what in the world are you doing?" He asked, grunting to keep the door closed.
The woman was surprisingly strong.
"Asking you a favor," she replied between gasps, trying to gain more leverage and
squeeze through the opening her leg had made in the doorway.
Momentarily speechless, Ranma shot back as he recovered. "This is how you always ask
for favors?"
"You don't understand!" By now, any hint of the Setsuna who was calmly smiling at
everything outside his apartment had utterly vanished; in her stead was the maniacal
woman he remembered all too well from their first encounter.
"I don't want to under–" he started to yell back, but was surprised by a horn blaring from
just outside the window. Setsuna put his temporary distraction to good use and wrestled
past him. "The movers," she said quickly, heading straight to the window. Somewhere
along the line, Ranma had discovered that this whole thing was starting to feel very
familiar.
She lifted the screen up and looked down. Three middle-aged men stood by the side of
the road behind a small truck. Next to them on the sidewalk was a large sofa they'd
unloaded already. "Hey, lady!" One of them looked up at her and yelled. "Where are
we going to put all this?"
"Give me a minute," she yelled out at them, "I'm taking care of it right now!" She
ducked back inside.
x x x
"…And then?" Ranma had settled himself down on the couch, regarding the woman
pacing about animatedly in the living room. This could take a while, he thought. He
absently noted that instead of circles, she was walking in squares this time.
"What else? I went back, and he was a no-show," Setsuna grounded out, eyes blazing,
nostrils flaring, hands on her hips, her posture strikingly close to that of a disgruntled
housewife. "I told my folks that Takuya's little sister –"
"He has a sister?"
"No, but they didn't know that." She waved a hand dismissively and continued.
"Anyway, his sister – who's supposed to be kind of retarded, by the way, drove her car
into a ditch on her way here, and since she lived out west in the country where the buses
would take forever to get to Tokyo, she figured she could walk into the middle of a
railroad crossing and hail down a train instead."
Ranma twitched an eyebrow. "And then?"
"…so now she's in a coma in the hospital, and he canceled the wedding at the last
moment to see her when he found out about it."
"…And your people bought all that crap?"
"It took a little convincing, but they more or less swallowed the thing. Plus," she added,
"I told them I was going to the hospital to see him and his sister and left before anybody
could think of tagging along."
"What about his folks? Didn't anybody show up from Takuya's side?"
"We didn't invite them, and they wouldn't come anyway. He split up with his parents
ages ago, and he's got no other relatives. But that's not the point," Setsuna said, bringing
the topic back on track. "The point is, I forgot that I've given him my whole bank
account earlier to help foot the expense since he told me he was going to handle all the
planning, and by the time I got back home I found out that my account's been cleaned
out."
"And then?"
"And then I got kicked out of my apartment," she said anticlimactically. "Since I was
going to move in with him, I thought I'd terminate my apartment lease early and so I
gave the landlord the notice last month, and when I told her after the wedding that I was
going to stay, she told me that she's already signed the lease with the new tenants and
that I have to leave by today."
"…And then?"
"And I thought I could live with a friend from work for a while, but she's married already
and she told me their place was really small, and the walls were really thin…"
"…And then?"
"And then I remembered you. So I thought, hey, this is perfect; you've got an empty
room, and I've got a bunch of furniture. So I told the movers to come here."
Ranma rubbed his temples.
Sensing that he was on the edge of caving in, Setsuna decided to go for the kill. "On top
of that," she said pitifully, a sniffle all of a sudden working its way into her voice, "I just
realized that today is my birthday, and I don't even have enough money to buy a cake."
"…Are you pulling my leg?" He asked.
"No, honest," she said, "It's my birthday today."
She took a peek at him. He had his head buried in his hands.
"Hey, lady!" The men from down below suddenly yelled out again. They'd been waiting
for nearly twenty minutes now, and their patience was wearing thin. "Your furniture!"
Setsuna poked her head out of the window, a contented smile on her face. She held a
thumb up triumphantly.
The workers cheered.
.
.
2
October 29, 1997
9:29 PM
Ranma eyed the damage.
An extra couch – a nylon-cushioned two-seater in some wacky deco style – sat next to his
own in the living room.
Twelve – he counted – ladies' coats of varying lengths, colors, and fashions, in the closet.
He had two. His old roommate's favorite raincoat was moved far to the other end of the
hanger.
Twelve pairs of shoes to match the jackets. Out of the dozen, eleven were pumps. The
remaining one was the pair of white sneakers she wore. More than half of them were left
out by the foyer in neat display rows because his one-row shoe rack couldn't fit.
On top of that, ten wooden crates of… something, stacked five-high by the wall between
the bathroom and Takuya's old bedroom.
Bound, old issues of magazines, ranging from fashion to wedding to modeling to
maternity to contemporary physics, lying everywhere on the floor.
He didn't even want to think of what her room looked like. How the movers got that
huge grand-oak dresser in and still found space to dump the mattress and table and three
standing lamps in the same hundred-square-feet area, he had no idea.
Finally, his eyes fell upon the other occupant of the room.
Setsuna, sprawled out on her sofa, head falling backward and arms draping the cushions,
an opened issue of Modern Physics covering her face, was looking right at home. She
wriggled her toes.
"…um, Meiou-san?" he asked weakly.
Setsuna slowly brought her head forward, letting the magazine fall to the floor. "Hmm?
Oh, right, I know. This only lasts until I get a good enough job that I can live by myself,
or somehow find a cheap place I can live in." She yawned, then belatedly brought up a
hand to cover it. "Sorry. It's been a long day."
Ranma stared. "The movers did all the work, you know?"
She shrugged. "I got tired just watching them move. Besides, I'm relaxing for them.
I'm sure they'd appreciate it."
She picked herself off the couch and stretched, fussing her hair with one hand. Then,
suddenly remembering something, she looked at him curiously. "Say, Saotome-san," she
asked, "you said the other day that you couldn't go through with the wedding because
you've got something back home…" she trailed off, a finger tapping her chin in thought.
"So, what is it? A girlfriend?"
"A fiancée," he stopped himself too late and said.
Setsuna nodded appreciatively. "I see…" she smiled a little teasing smile. "I was
wondering why a good looking young man like you weren't attached in any way."
Ranma shrank back instinctively, honed by years of experience from dealing with hoards
of females waiting to drag him off to the altar the moment he let down his guard. "Hey!
Don't get any ideas."
"As if." She waved a hand, a gesture that he was becoming accustomed to by now. "I
don't go for younger men."
Feeling somehow slighted, Ranma's old ego resurfaced and prompted him for a retort.
"Perfect," he said, "I don't go for older women either. On the other hand," he added,
smirking, "it's a different story if the girl is classy, beautiful, and mature."
Her smile frozen on her face, Setsuna's eyes flashed dangerously for a moment. Then,
realizing that she's been led off-track, she recovered instantly and pressed on. "Anyway,
about that fiancée… is she cute?"
Ranma stiffened. He wasn't going to slip up again. "I don't want to talk about it," he
said guardedly.
"Come on," she pressed again, trying to test how far she could push the button, "you can
tell me… what's it like? Love at first sight?"
"I said, 'I don't want to talk about it,'" he repeated, louder this time.
"Pfeh," she said, "It's not like it's a big deal. After all, we're going to be living together,
so we might as well get to know each other a little. Unless…" she trailed off, feigning
shock. "Unless you're cheating on her?"
Ranma gaped at the woman. Letting her stay was one thing, this was another. "Are you
always this pushy?" He asked heatedly, the stress of the whole day getting the better of
him. "It's no wonder Takuya left you." Not seeing the stunned expression on her face,
he went on. "I mean, I already had to put up with you barging in here and all, not to
mention all the stuff you brought with you, but this –" he looked at her, finally aware that
the other end of the living room had gone completely quiet.
Outside, a drizzle started.
"I see." Setsuna said finally, all warmth and earlier mirth devoid on her face. She
walked into her new room, and came back out a few seconds later with a purse in hand.
Knowing that he had just put his foot in his mouth yet again, Ranma asked with a mixture
of dread and apology in his voice, "Uh, what are you doing?"
Sliding the closet door open, Setsuna picked out the white jacket she wore earlier. "I'm
moving out," she said matter-of-factly without looking at him. She stepped into her
sneakers, jamming her heels into the shoes when her feet wouldn't go in instantly.
"Thank you for putting up with me," she said, bowing formally. "I apologize for the
intrusion. I'll pick up the rest of my stuff tomorrow."
Ranma ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "But… you just moved in today!" He
protested, only to be left with a perfect view of the empty stairs outside through the open
door.
x x x
Damned crazy chick, he thought. Who did she think she was, taking off like that after he
told her to mind her own business? For that matter, who did she think she was, coming
here in the first place and dumping all her stuff in his apartment?
Not my fault, he said to himself. Not my fault that she got dumped; not my fault that she
should be eating her birthday cake with Takuya somewhere off in god-knows-where on
their honeymoon right now. This was not my fault.
The rain seemed to agree. It began to pour.
He peered through the window. She had turned the corner and was walking down
towards the basketball court with her head down. Her suit was wet, and her dark green
hair clung to her jacket like a damp mop.
I'm not going out there, he thought.
x x x
"Meiou-san!" Ranma called out, carefully keeping his head inside the apartment as he
opened the window.
Setsuna stopped, not looking up. "What?"
"You're going to catch a cold," he said. "Come back."
She took another step forward.
"Wait!" He yelled again.
She paused. "Now what?"
"It's raining," he pointed out.
Setsuna shut her eyes in irritation. An empty soda can left out as trash on the sidewalk
crumpled under her foot. She gave it a good kick, and kept on walking.
The can of Pepsi clattered noisily on the pavement. Nearby, startled by the commotion, a
few doves took to the air from the wire they were perching upon, squawking their
objection all the way.
x x x
(Who the hell just did that?)
(Geez, as if the rain wasn't enough… Dammit, I'm trying to sleep!)
(Hey, it's that woman from a few weeks ago.)
(You mean…)
(…)
(…)
(…)
(Well, what are we going to do about it?)
.
.
3
October 29, 1997
9:38 PM
Outside, by the vacant basketball court, Setsuna wiped a hand angrily across her face to
clear out the rain. This was turning out to be one of the worst birthdays she could ever
remember.
Not even a month earlier, she had indulged herself in some sweet thoughts about
candlelight dinners, whispers by the fireside, and not a few snuggles in the dark. It was
not some thoughts that should have rightfully belonged to her, but back then she had
already resigned to live her life out as a normal person and was caught in the moment,
awash in giddiness with the prospect of getting married. Like a normal person.
Letting a dry laugh escape from her throat, Setsuna picked up her feet and resumed
walking.
Well, the birthday's shot, she thought as she started down the sidewalk once more,
picking out all the things that had gone wrong in the past month with her fingers. The
wedding's gone, too. So was the bank account. And my stuff's still back there as well.
At least I have a birthday song playing.
Her feet carried her a few paces further before they came to a halt.
Wait, a birthday song?
x x x
Inside the apartment, Ranma let his fingers linger on the keys for the last note before
drawing them away.
He started another song.
x x x
The dim light from the lampposts cast a long shadow on the sidewalk, set upon the paler
shades of crisscrossing wires that had been there earlier in the night.
Leaning against the fence by the empty court, Setsuna listened to the music floating past
the windows down the streets below. It wasn't any tune that she recognized, but that
didn't matter in the slightest. As unfamiliar as she was with music, Setsuna could
immediately see the skill of the player behind the song; the way the notes went crisp and
poignant even as the melody climbed into a maddeningly complex crescendo, then
streamed out in a gentle flow as the tension dispersed spoke of the level of mastery
needed to execute the piece.
More, the music sang to her. It was not quite like the jazzy pieces she heard Haruka play,
seemingly a lifetime ago, and not quite like the classical songs with regular beats and
cadence that her boss sometimes listened to at work; it was a strange and pleasant blend
of both – formal, like sunset, and free-flowing, like the last cloud that chased the sun over
the horizon and into the night. Memories of Sailor Pluto flashed by her eyes, and she was
suddenly there – at the palace, in the ballroom, the grand gala commencing as dusk
settled in the sky outside the mosaic glass panes. She was standing, as usual, alone in the
crowd, keeping a sharp eye on the various nobilities and dignitaries in the court, watching
the other senshi waltz by her, waiting for the slightest gesture from the Queen to appear
at her side and do her bidding. And the song, pushing past the throng, found her this time,
made a formal bow and extended a hand. May I have this dance? It asked.
She closed her eyes.
I've traded my chance at marriage and my bank account for two birthday songs, a
thought came to her impulsively. Then, realizing the ridiculousness of the thought, and a
little surprised at how un-bitter she was at it even if it were true, she smiled.
The trickling of the last few notes ebbed away as the song faded to a stop. Apology
accepted, she thought fondly, but perhaps this was for the best. Goodbye, Saotome-san.
Refreshed, and not a bit disappointed, Setsuna let her eyes open again and gingerly
pushed herself away from the fence. A sudden, unwarranted sense of confidence surged
through her, and she started down the road once more, ready to take on whatever
challenges that life would throw at her again.
She was not ready, however, for a wing in her face.
.
.
4
October 29, 1997
9:58 PM
The door to the apartment was yanked open, then slammed shut in an instant.
"You're back," Ranma grunted from the bench.
Setsuna was too busy trying to recover her breath to make any coherent replies, however.
With feathers in her wet hair, a few scratches and tears on her white jacket, and some bird
droppings mixed in with the rainwater on her face, she took a few gasps of air before she
started screaming at him. "There were some crazy homicidal birds out there trying to kill
me!" She pointed at the door in shocked outrage and said, clearly frightened.
Then, after she had feverishly patted away the last traces of her recent avian assault,
Setsuna calmed down considerably. Trying to muster whatever anger she harbored from
earlier at the young man at the piano, she drew a curious blank, which she noted was an
unacceptable answer. She finally settled with crossing her arms in front of her chest and
a neutral expression on her face. "Anyway," she said, concentrating to maintain the
frown she wore on her face, "I thought you said you don't like to play for anybody in
particular."
Ranma paused in thought. "…I make exceptions for birthdays." He said at last. Then,
fully taking note of her current state, he added, barely stifling a laugh, "Bathroom's down
that way."
x x x
Outside, an hour later, the downpour showed no sign of slowing down anytime soon.
A few birds were dancing on the sidewalk.
(Wahahahaha, did you see the look on her face when I caught her with that uppercut?
Sho-ryu-ken, baby, sho-ryu-ken!)
(C'mon, let's go! My feathers are all drenched.)
(Hmm. Well, that explains where that other piece of poppy seed mochi went. On the
other hand, though, I did manage to get past that constipation problem I've been having
lately. They just don't make bread crumbs like they used to.)
(Screw the crumbs! Did you see, eh, did you see? I bitch-slapped her good! Hahahaha!
Tatsumaki-sempuu-kya–)
(All right, we get the idea! Let's go!)
The lights from the third floor window grew faint, then slowly went out. Beyond the
heavy rain, and the few celebratory cries and sounds of flapping wings intermittently
throughout the night, it was a relatively quiet evening in the neighborhood.
.
(END CHAPTER)
.
.
Special thanks to: Figment again, and Thermopyle as well for pre-read and excellent
suggestions on how to approach the piano scene near the end.
.
- ukie