Chapter 7 – Object Lessons - Part Two
"Seriously, why doesn't this freaking pervert go bother the blondes or brunettes once in a while?"
The alleged deviant winced as he suffered another knock to the ribs. If only they'd afford him the opportunity to tell them that he had never intended to bother any of them. That his lousy sense of direction had recently escalated to a level where he truly beginning to feel as though some external force was 'out to get him'. Suitably switching to English (one of several languages in which he was proficient), Ryoga pleaded with his captors.
The savage pummelling ceased as the collected girls' ire at the kibitzer gave way to curiosity. This had been the first time the interloper had remained conscious long enough to accomplish anything beyond squealing in pain.
"Could you... repeat that?" asked one of the still surprised girls. Ryoga quickly complied.
"Ach lassies! Will'n yer be givin' me a bloomin' chance t'explain misself!" He frowned at their somewhat dumbfound expressions, relieved at least that the beating has halted. "What's the matter lasses?" asked the boy, noting their reactions. "You look like a bunch'a Rangers fans who just heard ye were down three-nil to Dundee United at half time."
A fairly tall brown-eyed girl, seemingly the group's de facto leader spoke up.
"You're," she began incredulously, looking appraisingly at the Oriental boy, "you're Scottish?"
Huh? Had this girl hit her head during the fracas? Having unwittingly traversed the globe during his time, Ryoga was well aware that he didn't look western. So why did...? Oh, yeah. He had picked up most of his English at the source, Britain.
"Oh, ye been meanin' m'accent, wee lass?" The girl and several of her companions nodded woodenly. "Ah, 'tis nuthin'. Ah just happened ta pick up a coupl'a phrases or two during a wee excursion ta Edinborough a coupl'oh years back." The assembled girls raised their eyebrows. A couple of phrases?
"Think nuthin' of it," he advised.
"Do you know Mel Gibson?" asked a shorthaired girl in a somewhat dreamy tone. Confused, he shook his head.
"All right," replied the tall girl casually hefting a broom. "Let's get back to business." Most of her cohorts joined her in raising their blunt instruments of female righteousness.
"Will ya hold yer horses!" he implored as he brought his hands up to shield his face. "Ya nay gave me half a breath ta get a word in edgeways!"
"Alright," replied the leader, as the other girls mumbled impatiently amongst themselves. "We'll cut you some slack because we were already finished dressing this time." Her eyes hardened. "But this had better be good," she warned menacingly.
The Lost Boy sweated through his bandanna, as he awkwardly grinned in what he hoped was a disarming fashion.
"Well bonnie," he began. "Ah sometimes have a bit'a hassle findin' me way aboot..."
o-o-o
Genma was beginning to become irritable. The Anything-Goes Master had spent nearly two hours meandering through the streets of Xining and had yet to reach his destination. That in itself wasn't so bad. He'd bought a snack from a food vendor to tide himself over until he found his way to his charge's relative.
What was principally contributing to his grouchiness was that he currently wetter than Jacque Cousteau's submarine during a rainstorm. And despite his best efforts, he couldn't seem to avoid water long enough to become even remotely dry.
He sniffed. Feh! It still beat being a panda. The martial artist grinned satisfactorily as he trod past a building he failed to recognise as the hotel they had stayed in the night before. Recalling his son's deference to his wisdom, he afforded himself a mental pat on the back. His sodden gi squishing with every step, Genma blithely ignored the frothy build up on his exposed forearms.
o-o-o
"That about covers everything we need, even if Megumi doesn't help us out," declared as still male Ukyo as they left the food stall. He could have asked earlier for warm water, but felt Ranma may have thought he was tomrenting her. Regardless, he'd become accustomed to the male form over the past week or so. It didn't upset him to anywhere near the extent it had immediately following Jusenkyo. He absently speculated why that was, before dismissing the thought, as his companion spoke.
"Are you sure?" she asked uneasily. "I mean, if there's anything else we need,"
"Now, now," grinned Ukyo, disingenuously wagging a reproachful finger. "You've stalled for long enough," he commented lightly.
Ranma glanced up, and looked about the street, biting her lower lip. As she scanned the area, she realised that she had dragged Ukyo into every food vendor on the street. She was out of options. Deflating, she murmured miserably,
"Time to face the music, I guess," appearing as though she expected Ukyo to offer her a cigarette at any moment.
The chef's heart damn near broke at the redhead's tone. She's really dreading this, realised Ukyo. Regardless, he resolved that they would still acquire the necessary garment for his petite fiancée to support herself. Ukyo would have given Ranma one of his own, but a single cursory glance at the redhead's figure indicated that they would be... insufficient for the girl's needs.
Ukyo's puckered brow transformed into smiling eyes as an idea struck him. Grabbing his startled friend 's small hand, he began backtracking to a store he'd noted earlier. "Ucchan?" softly questioned the redhead. "What are you up t-?"
"Sugar," interrupted the taller teenager, as he glimpsed down at her. Ranma craned her sight up, and gazed. The chef was smiling. And it wasn't the dangerous one. Greeted with that expression, the girl felt her spirits lift. After all, things weren't so bad.
She quickly decided to cease grumbling about something she herself had already accepted as necessary.
"Ucchan," cut in the girl, her tone contrite, "I'm sorry I'm being such an ass about this." Ranma paused when Ukyo chuckled briefly.
"You've nothing to be sorry for, Hon." Quickly, he continued, "You're a sixteen year old guy, Ranchan, and you're about to go shopping for a bra for yourself." Ranma blushed as red as her thigh-length hair, thankful Ukyo was speaking Japanese. "I can't imagine anyone else in your situation handling it as well as you have," praised the dark haired boy, before sniffing. "Most guys would have told me to go suck a lemon." Ranma grinned, unveiling dimpled cheeks,
"And if I had said that?"
"Then we'd be shopping for a teddy right now," answered the brunette humorously. "And I don't mean a stuffed toy." The redhead chortled as Ukyo wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. The chef continued - delighted to see the girl back in the high spirits. "What I was about to suggest a moment ago Sugar, is that if we're going to shop, we should Shop.
"Don't follow."
"What I mean," clarified Ukyo when Ranma stared vacantly, is that we should make it worthwhile. Memorable," he expounded. Pursing her lips in an unintentionally cute manner, the girl asked,
"Like how?"
"How about," began Ukyo tapping a slim index finger thoughtfully against his lips. "How about we each get something for the other... not just something," he decided, "an outfit!" Ranma's blossoming enthusiasm visibly waned, as she wilted a little. Seeing this, Ukyo appeased, "Don't worry! We each have to get something we'd both wear." The redhead relaxed and her eyes took on contemplative quality, before marring her features with a frown.
"But I'm not really good at matchin' and stuff."
"Uh – uh," smiled the chef. "I saw the twinkle in your eye. You have something in mind?"
"Well, I dunno," she replied self assuredly, idly twirling a stray red lock with her fingers. "I saw something in a store earlier, but..." Ukyo took a firmer hold of Ranma's hand.
"Which shop?"
She told him. "Then let's get going," he proclaimed brightly.
As they backtracked to the store in question, Ukyo mused over strange coincidences.
o-o-o
"So let me get this straight," announced the cock-eyed girl. Her classmates stared dubiously at the muscular boy sitting sheepishly before them. "You're a Japanese martial artist?"
"Aye," he confirmed.
"And you've got two girls," he nodded. "Both of whom you got separated from in the wilds of China some days back, and you've been wandering about, searching for them."
"Tis the honest to gawd truth," he intoned solemnly. The girl rolled her eyes.
"And during this time, in addition to at least two dozen various locations in China and South-East Asia, you've also visited," she motioned for shorthaired girl holding a pen and writing pad to speak.
"Australia." The tall girl held up a souvenir Sydney Opera House figure, sarcastically commenting,
"You sure you don't know Mel Gibson?" He shook his head insistently as the girl with the writing pad's eyes became starry again, before continuing to read from the pad.
"Disneyland." A figure of cartoon duck on the Eiffel tower was produced. "Disneyland Paris," corrected the shorthaired girl as she read on. "A bullfight in either Mexico or Spain, you don't know which." A matador's cape was Exhibit C. "Greece." The arms of the Venus Di Milo. "Check that. Ancient Greece." She read on. "The Sea of Serenity, wherever that is." A tattered American flag and a strange looking wand. "And of course," she finished flatly, "during all this, you've made sixteen detours – that we know of – into our locker room." This time a different girl presented a battered dustpan, and glared.
Gulping back the bile in his throat, Ryoga anxiously scratched the back of his bandanna-clad head.
"Well, when ye be puttin' that way lass, it do sound a little like,"
"Utter crap?" suggested dustpan girl sweetly. His head fell.
"Ach... aye. But 'tis no lie. If'n ye had some surveillance equipment ye be seein' that I did'na mean ta find yer room and I certainly did'na do anythin' pre-verted."
"Surveillance equipment? In a locker room?" asked the leader dryly.
"Wait," interjected writing pad girl. Seeing she had the group's attention, she asked, "There are security cameras in the hall, right?"
o-o-o
I'm surprised he didn't have the Mars Rover in his pack.
About that...
I don't want to know. As soon as he's back in China, you're returning his family curse back to its original level.
Have it your way.
Why do I get the very distinct feeling that this isn't all that you've been up to?
Probably because it's true.
o-o-o
"Amazing. The vents and the window slats are far too narrow for you to have passed through, let alone your pack," explicated leader girl. "I guess... I mean you definitely weren't on camera. I suppose you are telling the truth." Ryoga relaxed, immensely relieved that he wouldn't have to suffer through what had appeared another inevitable estrogen-fueled pulping.
Uncomfortably, the girl turned to her companions, and they whispered animatedly amongst themselves. A moment later, the group less than enthusiastically chorused, "We're sorry."
"Ah, 'tis nay bother," Ryoga gestured appeasingly. He stood, shouldering his pack. "Ah best me on me way from here." He made to leave, but on impulse enquired, "Afore I be goin', ah may as well ask where here is." Writing pad girl answered.
"Keratin High School for Girls, Honolulu." He didn't react. "Hawaii," she expounded. He blinked. She sweated. "America." He nodded sagely. Still in questioning mode and as curious as when he had first arrived in this particular locker room, he asked,
"And do all the lasses at Keratin High be havin' yer lovely crimson locks?" The fourteen redheads groaned exasperatedly, as their leader answered,
"That's our insane principal's fault. Everything he does has to have a hair theme to it." He saw the others girls nod and grimace. "Instead of arranging Phys Ed classes by age or something, we're broken up by hair colour." Ryoga raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "I'm serious," she insisted. "And that's only for P.E. Our normal classes are decided by hairstyle! Do you have any idea what its like to suddenly have an entirely different curriculum because you decided to wear your hair in a ponytail?" she demanded. Another girl took up the story,
"And that lunatic says it'd be easier if we all just had bowl cuts!"
"Remember when he changed the school name? This place used to be called Hazel High!" added another. Ryoga looked on passively as the group angrily discussed the various tortures that their sadistic headmaster had subjected them to.
"Ah... see." He didn't. Shrugging his shoulders, he announced, "Well, bonnie lasses. I'm off and about. Take care of yer wee selves," and with that farewell, left the room.
"Good luck," they called after him. Dustpan girl chimed,
"We hope you find your... girlfriends..."
Silence reigned as the assembled girls exchanged glances.
"He was a pervert! Get back here!"
o-o-o
"This is weird," complained Ranma as the cursed couple made their way to the store the redhead (and the brunet) had bookmarked. They taken a detour on the way at another establishment and procured several sports bras for the grumpy girl.
"Stop fidgeting," demanded the chef, rolling his eyes at his fiancée's behaviour. As Ukyo eyed his companion, a tiny part of his mind was disappointed that her assets were now restrained. That was the same part had allowed Ranma to dominate a particular training session against a male and very distracted Ukyo during the journey to Xining.
"It feels like I'm wearing a jock strap on my chest," groused the redhead as she glanced at herself. Ukyo really hoped she'd be over this verbal phase by the time they returned to Japan.
While they had been buying the bras, Ukyo had realised that there were other items of clothing and... equipment Ranma would need. He patted her on the shoulder, gaining the preoccupied girl's attention. "Uh-hum?" murmured the petite figure, turning brilliant blue eyes upward.
'Ranchan's really cute like that', reflected the chef as the midday sun shone evenly on her fiancée's features. There was absolutely nothing one could do to improve on that face, thought Ukyo, critically. Unplucked eyebrows, no make-up, and an expression that could be called cantankerous at best. In that moment, Ukyo couldn't think of a thing that he would want to change about her.
Especially not that blush.
"Ucchan?" Ranma was beginning to feel restless. Ukyo had tapped her about thirty seconds earlier (she absently noted that the hand still rested on her shoulder) and had spent the interval staring at her dumbly. Ukyo's teeth were showing in his smile, and its subject bit her lips to fight back the blush she felt.
It was futile of course. Feeling the blood rush into her cheeks, she hastily returned her eyes to the ground. Why was she so embarrassed? Ukyo was the one acting strangely. What was he thinking, gawking at her in the middle of the street like that? For the most part Ranma acknowledged, passers-by were simply ignoring the pair, but the thought that anybody could be watching set her ears to burning even hotter than before.
Gathering her wits, Ranma raised her eye-level. Her eyes found Ukyo's blinking mechanically, as though waking from a deep sleep. "Ucchan?" she questioned dryly.
"Huh?" replied the taller martial artist dazedly. He shook his head slightly. "Sorry, Hon," he apologised. "I just zoned out there for a second."
"Try two minutes," amended Ranma testily, her discomfiture receding. Ukyo mutely adopted a questioning expression. Sighing huffily, sending a few loose strands of hair billowing in the process, the redhead prompted, "You were saying something?" Ukyo snapped his fingers, recalling his line of thought.
"I was just thinking,"
"No, you were gawking," contended Ranma. Ukyo blinked, and sniggered giddily.
"Before that," amended Ukyo. "Anyway, you're going to have to realize that the sports bra isn't the only concession to..." How to say this? "Muliebrity," he decided, "that you'll have to make."
"Care to elaborate on that?" asked Ranma, her hands going to her hips.
"Ah, Ranma?" he said in an odd tone.
"Yeah?"
"You asked me to tell you if it happened," he explained. "Your arms are akimbo again." Ranma just looked at him.
"A-what-what?"
"Girly," he clarified, with a sigh.
"Eek!" Ranma roughly pushed her arms to her sides, and turned her attention back to the chef. "Still waiting."
Ukyo gulped and mumbled obliquely,
"Well, like your boxers."
"What about them?" asked Ranma cautiously. "You mean I can't wear,"
"You can still wear them," interrupted the chef. "...Just not all the time."
"Why not?" she asked hesitantly. Ukyo examined the sidewalk as he mumbled,
"They won't, you know, hold a p – er, that is..." Gods, how was he supposed to explain this? Wait, he thought with some relief. He needn't! "You know Sex-Ed class, right?"
"I know of it," she answered carefully.
Damn, but she wasn't making this any easier!
"But do you rem...? Y'know with the thi..."
Forget it. He couldn't deal with this now. Later, yes. Ukyo recognized however, that he couldn't put off the talk for long. His countenance grew lighter as he dismissed it for the time being. "Oh, it's nothing, Sugar. Forget I said anything."
Raising the small arch of an eyebrow, Ranma rolled,
"Oookay."
"Come on," he said, brightening. "We still have some shopping to do." Smiling infectiously, he grabbed her hand and resumed their path. Ranma grinned crookedly at Ukyo's enthusiasm, lightly remonstrating,
"Slow down, baka. We still have plenty of time."
"I know," agreed the green-eyed boy. "I just can't wait to see what you picked out for me."
"Really?" asked the redhead in surprise.
"Of course," he gushed back.
"Be afraid," she warned ominously.
o-o-o
Wiping at his brow, Genma flicked foam from the back of his hand. Mercifully, the splashing had petered off a little, but now his torso appeared enveloped by frothy bubbles.
A tub being unceremoniously emptied from a second story window was sufficient to rinse off most of the substance. Content, now that he was bubble-free and only damp, Genma cleaned his glasses and smirked. Almost there.
o-o-o
"Ranchan, you really don't know your sizes?"
"You mean you do?"
"Of course!" exclaimed Ukyo. "It was one of the first things I checked after, you know?"
"Mmm," nodded the girl. "I just assumed I could wear my normal clothes..." Ukyo eyes became half-lidded. "Hey, I could tighten the sash you know?" she grumbled defensively.
"Sugar," began the spatula-wielding boy. "You're guy side is about a foot taller than you are. Broader shoulders, narrower hips, not as cute – I mean," he cleared his throat, "rounded. Heh." Ranma smirked and pretended to miss Ukyo's slip. "You're gi is one thing, but anything else would be up to your armpits."
"Like a certain towel?" winked Ranma.
"Hey, that wasn't!" His fiancée broke into giggles. Ukyo looked to the heavens. "I thought we were already through this." Wiping away a tear, the redhead sniggered,
"Sorry, Ucchan. But just thinking of the sight...BWHAHAAHAAH!" The chef waited patiently for his companion to laugh herself out. After another round of guffaws, the longhaired boy asked
"You back with us?" Ranma had the grace to feign abashment. Ukyo knelt and fished about his pack for a moment before producing a long cord. He nodded behind Ranma. "Into the dressing room, kid."
Glancing over her shoulder, the small girl curiously turned her attention back to the chef. "You want me to measure you out here?" asked Ukyo smirking wickedly. Ranma squeaked in shock, bolting into the booth, causing several patrons to snicker.
The redhead frowned when Ukyo followed her in, his spatulas ungainly in the tight confines.
"Not that I'm complaining, Ucchan," drawled the redhead, theatrically slipping off her gi vest, "but wouldn't it be easier if I did the measuring?" Ranma frowned curiously when the boy didn't respond. "Ground control to Ucchan? Heck, are you gonna keep doing this all day?" she grumped when he didn't react.
Ukyo, meanwhile was entranced by the bellybutton that peeked out from beneath Ranma's T-shirt when she shrugged off her gi. His fascination was cut short when he was lightly rapped on the head.
"Hey!" he grimaced, rubbing his crown, "Why did you do that, jackass?" He brought his eyes to Ranma's and immediately rescinded his complaint. "Er... sorry," he apologised in the face of Ranma's unamused half-hooded gaze. She glanced at the cord in his hands. "Oh yeah," he gulped, "here you go," he handed her the tape and stepped backwards out of the booth.
Fifteen minutes later found the pair back near the stalls as they presented the clothes they had selected for one another. Ukyo went first. Ranma nodded amiably as she took each item, seemingly pleased with her fiance's choices. She quickly threw her bundle into the chef's hands and entered a booth without waiting for Ukyo's appraisal. The gi-clad boy shrugged, and examined the garments in his hands. Humming, he entered another cubicle.
They exited as one, a satisfied expression gracing Ukyo's face, and a cocksure one on Ranma's. "You look great, Sugar," commented Ukyo taking in the redhead and her outfit. Dark, smoky gray slacks, above a pair of black slippers. An equally dark grey tang adorned her torso, which Ranma had left open to reveal the royal blue tank top beneath, which she filled out rather nicely, noted Ukyo. He paused in his judgment, rubbing his chin speculatively. Snapping his fingers, he stepped close and quickly removed the loose tang, leaving Ranma confusedly asking what he was doing. "Give me a sec, Sugar," he requested, tying the long arms of the tang around Ranma's waist, under the snaking braid. Finished, he took a step back. "Perfect," he grinned.
The redhead examined herself, and smiled approvingly.
"I like," she commented. Her smile wavered as she asked, "And you?" Ukyo exaggeratedly inspected his own clothes for Ranma's benefit.
"Nice," he answered in his jet black slacks and slippers, a sleeveless silk, red tang fastened up his chest. "Very nice, indeed." Ranma beamed.
"Domo, Ucchan."
"Ditto, Sugar," he chuckled at her zest. He began to walk to the till, "Let's pay for these and head to Megumi's."
"We're wearing these out?" asked Ranma indicating their new clothes.
"Why not?" he questioned rhetorically. The redhead nodded in acquiescence, before her eyes turned sinister, a devious smile replacing her good-natured one.
"Think we should get somethin' for Pops, too?" They snickered slyly together, recalling last night's conversation.
o-o-o
"I'm gonna let him have it."
"Oh, jeez, I'm sorry, Ranchan!" said Ukyo concernedly. "Did I get you with the spatula, too? I didn't mean,"
"I'm fine, Ucchan," assured Ukyo's diminutive roommate. The brunette nodded, moving closer. Her fiancée's concern muted at least verbally, Ranma huffed,
"You're right that Pops won't give up tryin' to get his hands on the soap," she admitted, sparing a withered glare for the unconscious subject of their discussion. "Even though it ain't, isn't," she corrected herself, "really a cure. Not for him or you at least. So I what I suggest," she intoned, "is that he needs an object lesson to get that through his skull." Disquiet for her fiancée's mental health gave way to intrigue as Ukyo gleefully realised that she was now a co-conspirator.
"Go on," prompted the inquisitive girl.
"I'll give him the soap in the mornin', and he'll use it for sure. But do you remember what the old geezer said?" Ranma asked. She was unable to keep all traces of ire from her tone at the mention of the proprietor of the Dragon Whisker supplying restaurant. The taller girl frowned momentarily and replied,
"You mean about the curse compensating by..."
"Exactly. Now how will Pops react when he doesn't change?"
"He'll be happy for one," said the chef obviously. Ranma motioned that she continue. She mulled over it. "And... he'll probably let his guard down as far as... Aha!" She declared triumphantly, "I see where you're going with this, you little fiend!" she sniggered while Ranma's face adopted a self-satisfied look. "Because he won't be expecting any change, he won't be ready with that technique of his that stops his clothes from being ripped apart." She looked at the redhead with an undisguised gleam in her eye. "Which of us gets to throw the hot water on him?"
"Neither. If anyone's going to use hot water it'll be Pops."
"You've lost me, Sugar," said Ukyo matter-of-factly. Ranma raised a small index finger, and seemingly changed the subject.
"Remember when we first came through this town from Sichuan a few weeks back?" The brunette nodded, confused as to where Ranma was going with this. "And we dropped by that cousin of yours?"
"Of course!" remembered Ukyo. "Cousin Megumi." She and her husband ran a decent sized Okonomiyaki restaurant downtown, just a pair the of the many extended Kuonji family members that riddled the Orient, and provided those unfortunate enough to be outside of Japan with the dish they took so seriously, they had made a martial art out of it.
"We could have stayed there tonight if not for," she sighed, "you know." Ranma nodded, as Ukyo brightened. "She told me that we two should drop by on our way back, 'assuming that jackass Saotome doesn't get us arrested or killed in the meantime'," she paraphrased her cousin. Pausing in thought for a moment, Ukyo posed, "Did you ever realise that extended family members I've never even met, seem to know Pops' rather 'unsavoury' reputation?"
"I noticed that," answered the redhead amused by the sugarcoated terminology that Ukyo used to describe Pops' less than ethical exploits. "Good for them, I'd say," volunteered Ranma. Even though being honest with herself, most of Genma's immoral and...'sub legal' activities had really tapered off over the past few years. Especially with Ucchan and she maturing enough to recognise one of his harebrained ideas from a mile away. But that hadn't prevented all many of petty thievery while Ucchan and she were still little kids. She wondered what the statue of limitations on running out on hotel bills was.
"Anyway, Ucchan. I think we should send Pops to your cousin's place to let her know that we're back in town."
"Honey, are you sure I didn't get you with my spatula?" Ranma understood the taller girl's confusion. When they had passed through Xining several weeks earlier, Ukyo's elder cousin had to be restrained from attempting to decapitate merrily drunk Genma with the massive baker's peel that served as the Kuonji family's 'Great-Spatula'. It supervened when he had liberated some (that is to say all) of the liquor that he had found hidden in a cabinet in the apartment they had stayed in, above Megumi's.
Smiling at her fiancée's concern, Ranma answered,
"Pops doesn't even remember what happened, Ucchan. You know how drunk he was that night? We'll just tell him there's free eats waitin' for him and he'll be out of here faster than Tsubasa at the mention of Ryoga's name."
Ranma sniffed at that. True, she may feel that Ryoga was a bit of pain, but she had to respect one aspect of him. That being his dedication to keeping the little cross-dressing weirdo from bothering Ucchan. It was right after the first time Ryoga had clobbered the gender-confused nuisance, that Ukyo had given him the pet name 'Ryochan'. This of course cemented Ryoga's budding attraction towards the brown-haired girl into a full on teenage crush.
Such things were only natural, Ranma supposed. But it had irritated the younger Saotome that along with his crush on Ukyo came an intrinsic antipathy to the guy who Ryoga viewed as his rival for the chef's affections. The redhead shuddered. She'd much rather have to put up with Ryoga's schoolboy resentment than the awkward politeness he'd displayed after Jusenkyo. Especially after Ukyo had informed her of the reasoning behind such behaviour.
Ryoga no hentai, chanted Ranma in he mid with an external shiver. Nonetheless, she couldn't fault him for his Tsubasa pummelling skills. Hibiki could get lost in a corridor with only one end, yet had an unerring ability to see through the transvestite's most intricate disguises. The odd thing was that when Tsubasa chose not to disguise himself, instead donning street clothes – which in Kurenai's case likely consisted of a sundress and bonnet – Ryoga was unremittingly fooled.
Sure, Tsubasa was convincing as a girl, but for Kami-sama's sake, Ryoga knew what he looked like! While an insanely detailed and realistic post-box disguise was transparent to the directionally challenged lad, a new hat or a pair of sunglasses easily threw him off the cross dresser's scent.
Putting the thought aside for the time being, Ranma continued, "And if Pops does manage to make it to Megumi's it'll only be a bonus."
"I don't understand, Ranchan," replied the chef, furrowing her brow in what Ranma deigned an exceedingly cute fashion.
"Ucchan," she began, "Do you remember exactly where your cousin's restaurant is?"
"Sure I do," answered Ukyo in a mildly exasperated tone. "Its near the bazaars, just outside the... the market..." Ranma winked as comprehension dawned. "You devious little minx," proclaimed Ukyo growing a nasty grin. "That is evil, Ranchan... Can I help?"
o-o-o
Dressed in their new outfits, with Ranma deciding to also don the green cap of a Mao worker's outfit, the two teenage girls approached Megumi's. They realised from the lack of discernible carnage that they had beaten Genma there. Ukyo had availed herself of hot water beforehand. She didn't want to speculate on what her family might do to Pop if they discovered he had gotten her cursed.
They entered to find the restaurant moderately busy. Ukyo knew that would soon change with the arrival of the lunch crowd. Ranma and she approached the counter, where they saw Megumi's husband preparing an okonomiyaki. Without looking up, he acknowledged the two, asking,
"What can I get you ladies?" in Mandarin. Grinning, Ukyo replied,
"Two Kuonji Specials," in Japanese. He looked up in surprise, which quickly changed to recognition, as he gushed,
"Ukyo! You back!" in the teens' language. "Megumi will be much relieved you still alive," he said jovially. Ukyo laughed with him. "You come, and I get her for you."
A few minutes later found Ukyo reacquainting herself with her cousin as she gave a (thoroughly edited) account of their situation.
"So, Genma got you in trouble again, did he?" the shorthaired woman said darkly.
"No, no!" appeased Ukyo. "It was all of us who were at fault."
"Well, I can't really get angry," admitted the woman, fiddling with her own massive spatula. "From what I hear, its almost impossible not to get in trouble with those Amazons. Some of the strangest customs, they have," she mused.
"Tell us about it," grumbled Ranma. Megumi turned curious eyes to the redhead.
"And who are you, dear?" she asked. "Ukyo didn't mention you in her tale." Ranma began to pale, recalling that Ukyo had only mentioned Genma's curse, even though Megumi thought Ukyo was just pulling her leg.
"She was in trouble with the Amazons too," blurted Ukyo quickly. "She helped us out, and now they're after her too." That seemed to satisfy the woman, as she turned a smile on the short girl.
"Well, I certainly won't let anybody who helped my little cousin go without thanks. What's your name, dear?" Ranma blinked, giving Ukyo a side-glance.
"My name?" Megumi nodded. "Ah, its...ah,"
"Rapunzel," answered Ukyo, concealing a grin.
"Rapunzel-chan, on behalf of the Kuonji Clan, I thank you," intoned the woman. Ranma ginned sickly, and turned eyes that promised vengeance to Ukyo when Megumi looked away. Ukyo seemed to be having difficulty breathing. Her entire body trembling with effort, Ukyo unleashed the mother of all belly laughs when her cousin left the room to help her husband with the lunch crowd.
"Laugh it up," growled Ranma, snarling in an absurdly cute manner.
"That was priceless!" Wheezed the chef. "Your face, haha!"
When Megumi returned, Ukyo, who had finally overcome her giggles sought her attention. Again explaining their need to be away from the pursuing Amazon, the older woman pursed her lips thoughtfully.
"Dad will help you out," declared Megumi. Ukyo cocked her head, and she elucidated. "My father – your father's brother, Ukyo-chan – can get you across China – hastily if need be," she added. Ukyo and Ranma contemplated what 'connections' were involved, when Megumi laughed at their expression. "Don't worry girls. It's nothing illegal." Well, particularly, she amended mentally. "What I mean is he'll pay your way to Japan." She smiled at their hanging jaws. "I make a pretty penny here after, ahem, paying the piper. But Dad up in Lanzhou is well, for lack of a better term, rolling in it.
"I'll ring him and let him know what's going on. He'd probably be happy to help out regardless. Dad hasn't seen you in years Ukyo-chan. Remember, the whole family's looking out for you."
Ukyo smiled and was about to reply when a commotion from outside brought her and Ranma's heads up. She moved quickly to the large open window Ranma had already stationed herself at and motioned for her cousin to join them.
o-o-o
"Uh-oh..." mumbled Genma when he tried to wipe off yet more foam. "Why is it bubbling like that?" Realisation hit just as he glanced up at the market place before him. "OH, SHI-!"
The panda's signed bore the twentieth letter of the alphabet as his gi ripped,as his presence in that particular area became slightly more welcome and significantly less healthy. He gulped at the hungry looks he was receiving from the dozens of locals, who were all reaching for the quite nasty looking instruments of their trade.
o-o-o
"Still don't believe me about Pops' curse, Megumi-chan?" posed Ukyo as the trio watched the havoc outside the building.
A large, wet panda in a torn gi was fending off several dozen determined businessmen armed with various implements of taxidermy. Genma bolted through the crowded streets as people gawked at the sight of a live panda dashing through one of the largest fur markets in Western China.
"Is that...?" asked a wide-eyed Megumi.
"Uh-huh," chorused the grinning girls. The woman shook her head and began snickering.
"You are aware that I love you two?"
Meanwhile,a furiously dodging Genma somehow found the time to reflect that maybe there was something to what his son had said about the soap's reliability after all.
