Guest Ki: Chapter 10
Soap Operas
When the helicopter landed at the tiny resort, the wind from the rotating props whipped the nearby trees into a frenzy. A skinny servant hopped out, and holding desperately onto his hat, opened the door for Tatewaki Kuno. The eldest son of the house of Kuno descended and immediately strode toward the guest registry at the lodge. The servant followed, making two trips with the bags and equipment and losing his hat, at least temporarily, in the bargain.
The tall young man regarded the inside of the rustic looking establishment and almost reconsidered. Still the doctor had advised rest and relaxation in a simple setting to avoid over-stimulation. This was certainly simple enough. He wondered if they even had running water. Kuno stepped up to the counter and bowed slightly to the old man who stood there expectantly. As expected, the bow was returned deeply, as befitting a social inferior. At least these people seemed to know their place.
Zadai smiled with pleasure as the young nobleman walked in. 'Easy money,' he thought privately as he bowed. He had despaired of finishing the guest cottage in time for the young man's arrival, but their foundling proved highly skilled in carpentry. Yasashi saw the need and responded with a practiced ease, as if restoring storm damage were an everyday occurrence. She had shingled the roof practically by herself and had done a cunning job of reinforcing a wall she found to be weak. She had even meticulously and carefully refinished wood where water had stained the surface.
'Yes,' he decided, 'Yasashi has been our luck!' This young blood would probably be nothing but trouble ordinarily, but young men have big appetites and Yasashi's skills would help them there too. Especially her okonomiyaki which was beyond superb! 'Keep a young man's belly full of good food and you don't have many complaints.'
"Welcome, Kuno-san, we have been awaiting your arrival." Zadai saw Yasashi poke her head curiously around the corner. He waved her in. "Our correspondence indicated that you planned to stay at least two weeks. Is that correct?"
"It is, good hosteller. I would like to hold open the option for an extended stay however." Kuno stood easily, his gaze fixed over Zadai's head. He seemed to ignore everything around him for some other reality.
"The cabin is a very popular part of our establishment. (You were willing to pay enough, certainly!) Perhaps we could hold it for a small fee?"
"Indeed?" Kuno pondered, ponderously. "'Tis only fair." The young man extracted a wallet from the western-cut jacket he wore. From the wallet a thick sheaf of bills was removed.
Kuno's arm arced across his body and rose then hesitated. Zadai barely restrained a flinch. He had never had it done to him, but for an instant he thought the young man was going to hit him with that wad of money. Kuno brought the sheaf before him and counted off ten ten-thousand-yen notes.
"Would this be sufficient to warranty my quarters?"
Zadai bowed a little ruffled and nodded. "Thank you, Kuno-san. We will endeavor to make your stay as pleasant as possible. If there is anything you need?" (Besides a brain, manners and a touch of reality?)
"Indeed, be sure I shall ask. Now if I could be escorted with my luggage to my suite, I would like to rest and meditate before dinner."
"Yasashi-chan will show you to the guest cabin, Kuno-san. You will appreciate our cuisine. Yasashi came to us only a few weeks ago and has been a great surprise and help to us."
Kuno nodded, bored. He glanced at the girl who bowed a little stiffly and picked up all of his bags. She turned and waited for him to follow. His eyebrow rose at the unexpected show of strength and he looked at her more closely.
Unlike her employers, she wore western-style clothing, a pants and blouse combination that revealed somewhat the feminine curves. She was nearly as tall as he and wore her shoulder-length brown hair loose. Bangs swept midway to her eyebrows and clear brown eyes met his without any visible show of emotion. Tatewaki was intrigued. She seemed familiar somehow but...
"Lead on," he said to cover his inner debate. She moved easily over the path. Kuno's servant followed helplessly along behind them both, diverting only to retrieve his hat from a bush nearby.
She reached out and slid open the shoji with a slippered foot. Marching in, she deposited the luggage to one side of the door and indicated the arrangements.
"Kuno-sempai, there are four rooms to the cabin. This, of course, is the main living area. Should business follow you, as I understand sometimes happens to a man like yourself, it is perfect for meetings. If you wish, you can simply sit and contemplate the mountains. Back here," she indicated a doorway, "is a small kitchen with a stove and refrigerator. If you are prone to late night snacking, we can stock your favorites from town." She walked to the steps. "Up there are the bedrooms, two of them. One has a western-style bed, the other a futon. Under the stairs here..." She indicated the frosted glass door. "...is the bathroom. Water is pumped daily into a solar-heated tank on the roof. I'll warn you, on really sunny days, that water gets hot enough to make tea, so turn on the cold first and adjust carefully. The furo is also large enough for a party." Yasashi stepped back to the door and waited while Kuno inspected the cabin.
"It seems quite satisfactory, if a bit rougher than I am used to." He turned back to her. "Yasashi-san, you move like a martial artist. I practice the art of kendo. Do you know of any here who might wish to spar?"
"I am unsure, Kuno-sempai. I will be happy to inquire." She bowed and turned to leave.
"A moment more, fair Yasashi." She turned back to him her flush and narrowed eyes betraying her irritation at the familiarity. "I feel I know you from somewhere. You also call me 'sempai'. Have you ever graced the locale of Nerima or attended Furinkan High School?"
Yasashi frowned then and looked at his face. Finally, she answered him.
"Not that I recall, Kuno-san."
Tatewaki sighed and bowed slightly. "Thank you for your indulgence, fair one." He turned and began giving sharp orders to the hovering servant.
As she left the cabin, Yasashi muttered, "Jackass!"
Sasuke peered around the door into the greenhouse. The coast was clear. Carrying a two-liter glass bottle, he scuttled in. It would not do to have Kodachi know he was borrowing from her stock of chemicals for his assigned project — to have Kodachi Kuno examined and possibly committed to a family-owned and operated sanitarium.
It wasn't as if she would volunteer. It was her brother's belief — and his own for that matter — that nothing short of a military operation could force her to go. Unless treachery and sneakiness were involved, and that was a Sasuke specialty!
Plan 'A' had been hidden sleep-gas tanks in the limo. Kodachi had had her own ideas and Plan 'A' had gone unused briefly. Unfortunately, Sasuke had accidentally activated the mechanism as he drove the car home without first raising the privacy window. He had taken a quick nap and the limo was presently in the shop.
Plan 'B' was drugged tea. Kodachi always asked for tea with luncheon… until today. Today she decided to have a 'diet cola' in its can for a change, something she decided she liked from America. The tea went untasted and Plan 'C' was put into action.
Plan 'C' involved electrifying the path to Midorigame's pond. Kodachi unintentionally foiled that one by trying out another Americanism she had picked up, rubber-soled walking shoes. Too bad Sasuke did not and stepped onto the path himself, thinking a connection had broken.
Kodachi had at least noticed that. She turned with her plate of raw chicken destined for Midorigame's gullet, to observe the spastic movements of the little ninja. "Why, Sasuke," she exclaimed. "How thoughtful to learn the steps of the latest American dance! Is it not sad that my Ranma-sama is not here that we might join in? Those American dances inspire such heights of uncontrolled..." She fanned herself as she fantasized and Sasuke trembled and jerked his way to the power switch. "Are we expecting thunderstorms today, Sasuke? I detect the scent of ozone in the air." She turned back from the still-spasming servant to call out to her pet.
"YOOoo-hoo, Mr. Midorigame! Did oou mith meeee?"
Plan 'D' involved the greenhouse. Kodachi was a gifted horticulturist and particularly proud of her special black roses. She visited her roses first thing in the morning and at 4:00 in the afternoon, every day without fail.
Sasuke was there at 3:00 PM; carefully tipping her black roses' thorns with the liquefied version of Kodachi's own paralysis powder that was contained in the bottle he carried. He moved quickly from bush to bush, wearing plastic gloves and using an old rag. He concerned himself, in particular, with the stems where roses were ready to be pruned away. An errant drift of air lifted a particular scent to his nose and he jerked, waving one hand frantically. It wouldn't do to be paralyzed by the fumes! He wanted to be gone before...
"Sasuke!"
"M-mistress?" His head popped up and located Kodachi just inside the greenhouse door. He glanced at his watch. 3:35? She was early!
"How dreadful! What have you been doing to these bushes? Bad Sasuke!"
"But, Mistress," he whined, rubbing his hands together fitfully, "you know I'm no good at this kind of thing. It requires your special touch!" The ninja decided from her expression that a little more 'oil on troubled waters' was needed. "Oh, I try! How I try! But no one could compare to your empathetic hand and skillful trimmers."
It seemed to work. One hand went to her mouth and she turned half away, laughing softly at the praise. Sasuke sighed. If only she weren't certifiable, his life would be so much simpler! He was startled from his reverie by the steely grip on his wrist.
"Come, you silver-tongued devil of a servant," she caroled. He blanched! Now what? She began to move swiftly through the bushes, trimming as she went and depositing the stems in Sasuke's arms. Trembling, he tried to avoid the substance coating so many of the thorns but finally...
(Clatter! Thump!)
"Sasuke?" She looked at him expectantly, then checked his pulse and breathing with practiced ease. "Oh good! The potency is still high! How do you like the new liquid formula of my paralysis potion? I treated the roses before I left." He tried to answer and managed a slight hiss. "Can you still feel surface stimulation?" She pinched his cheek hard. Tears formed in his eyes and a faint whine passed his lips.
"Yes, Yes, YES!" She noted the reaction and clapped her hands in joy.
"At last! Success! Now Ranma-darling cannot run away when I want to play!" She danced around him in a passion of schoolgirl enthusiasm and patted the pinched cheek. "You needn't worry faithful one. I always dose myself with the antidote to avoid mishaps. OHOHOHOOHOHHohohoho!" She skipped away, the bouquet of black roses with her.
Sasuke lay on his back. He debated, once he regained muscular control, if he should tell Kodachi that her formula did present one difficulty. He had an itch at his left eye, no way to scratch and no way to tell anyone about it. Oh well, perhaps later. Now, since he was otherwise indisposed, he might as well start working out Plan 'E'.
Many miles away, Tatewaki went through yet another form, bokken flashing. He wondered how Sasuke was doing, but was unconcerned. It would probably take a while to catch his sister. He didn't care, so long as it could be done circumspectly. That was one of the reasons he made Sasuke one of his sister's legal guardians. He was sneaky enough to deal with the Black Rose. Besides, Tatewaki was here and his sister wasn't. It was one of the good things about this place.
He slipped into another set of movements and became aware that the girl, Yasashi, was watching him. He studied her surreptitiously as he completed his form. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had met her before and it disturbed him. He noticed she was watching him rather intently as well. Of course, he was a fine figure of a man that might attract such attention. He lowered his bokken and turned to face her.
"Good afternoon, fair one. Have you come to praise my skill? Or bring you word of any who might challenge me for mutual benefit?"
"Do you have any idea how stupid you sound?" Yasashi's mouth twitched with a faint smile, which took some of the sting out of the rebuke. She leaned casually, one shoulder resting against the side of the cabin.
"Some," he answered. "But it is a habit not easily broken. It is much like the patterns of my attacks and parries, a thing long-practiced and comfortable, even if in some instances, flawed." He began another set of movements.
"That's why you're looking for a sparring partner?"
"Indeed."
She sighed and glided off the wall to stand before him. Tatewaki dropped the point of his weapon and raised his eyebrows. She concentrated and slowly took up her stance.
"You would spar with me?" he asked surprised. "Though I felt you were a martial artist, I believed from our earlier encounter that you would avoid me. What style do you practice?"
"I have no idea," she answered. "Let's find out."
Kuno received a shocking kick, which he took high on his shoulder. He rolled his shoulder away and countered, careful not to use lethal force. He tried to analyze her style but was frustrated by the fact that it didn't seem completely natural to her. Unarmed combat seemed somehow wrong for her and he tapped her solidly with blows that would have been disabling had they been struck in battle with real weapons. She was still more than good enough to tag him several times in return.
He stepped back and bowed.
"Why don't you know your own school of the Art?"
At his inquiry, she tapped her head. "Amnesia, the doctor says. I don't even know who I am, much less what. I hoped sparring with you might bring something back, but..." She shrugged.
"It is the duty of the samurai to aid those in need. May I help you? My resources are considerable…"
Yasashi cut him off. "Whoa there, hotshot! Don't get me wrong, but I don't need that kind of obligation. Besides, I'd rather know who I was, not simply pick up a life someone said was mine." She turned and began to walk away.
"Indeed, I can sympathize with one held in thrall of fate and circumstance. There are those that I love, likewise strong of will, yet…" His musing broke off as she reached the cabin's corner. "Wait! If you please… Perhaps there is another way I can help." He turned and called into the cabin. "Hitoshi! Bring the equipment!"
A head poked out and retreated. Moments later, the skinny servant brought out a long suitcase. It was obviously heavy and the man struggled to carry it down the steps to where they waited. Panting he sat it down and opened it. Inside were a plethora of various types of weapons, including several bokken and an authentic katana.
"Your style seems to require a weapon of some type," he suggested. "Please examine these and see if one might be familiar to you." The servant was already assembling the longer weapons and arranging them in on a collapsible display rack. "In seeking sparring partners, I tried to accommodate the absence of their chosen weapons." Yasashi waited until Hitoshi was finished, then examined what was available.
There were three bokken, a pair of nunchuku, a half dozen throwing knives of various designs, shuriken, a pair of sais and a ninjitsu sickle-and-chain. Among the larger weapons were a three-section staff, a naginata, also assembled in three pieces, and a bo staff. There was also a bow and quiver of arrows for kyudo which, from its well-used appearance, was one of Kuno's personal weapons.
Her brow furrowed in thought and attempted remembrance as she examined each weapon. She felt most comfortable with the staff, but commented that it felt 'light'. She examined the smaller weapons and, after a moment, selected two of the knives.
"I must be very irritating if you are contemplating using those on me," Kuno commented smiling. Yasashi blushed and almost put them back,then changed her mind. She stepped back from the cabin.
"Ummm… Could... uh, Hitoshi put something like a target on the side of the cabin?" The servant glanced at Kuno for confirmation and entered the cabin. He returned with a sheet of legal size paper and, using a marker, quickly drew a series of fairly even circles. The results were gratifying. Yasashi threw three sets. The first was done tentatively, one at a time. Each knife struck home on a legal-size piece of paper from a distance of twenty paces. She grew more daring then and holding the knives between her fingers, scored with sweeping high-handed throws.
"Impressive." Kuno clapped politely. "It would seem some of your skills are based in ninjitsu. My most trusted servant, Sasuke, could not have done better. Let us spar again, you with the staff now."
Strike followed counter-strike. It was more satisfying, yet predictable now to Kuno, due to the limitations any weapon placed on its user. But it was also at a much higher level of skill. He rarely found an opening and was pushed hard to defend himself. Only the fact that the staff was, apparently, merely similar to her preferred weapon allowed him any advantage.
For five minutes the strike of wood against wood sounded off the side of the mountain like firecrackers. Her style was similar in some ways to kendo, but seemed to lack thrusting attacks. Then Yasashi's sweeping strikes and counters suddenly focused in an unexpected backhanded thrust that struck the nerve cluster at the base of Kuno's breastbone. He hit the ground hard.
"That hurt, Yasashi," Kuno wheezed. After getting his breath back, he stood and regarded her. "Well struck, though. You show a fire I have experienced in only two other martial artists of your gender." He held up a hand defensively as she bridled at his comment. "Someone of your level of mastery cannot hide their candle under a basket. Surely, if the proper inquiries are made, your identity will be obvious."
Yasashi grew pensive, then depressed. "Maybe, I don't know, Kuno-sem… Kuno-san; but what if I'm better off not knowing?"
Tatewaki Kuno stood silent for long moments.
"I... may be in similar straits, Yasashi," he admitted at last. "Someone I trust informed me that I was not living in the same world as everyone else." He turned half away. "I permitted myself to be examined by a psychologist, who was willing to answer me honestly. He generally confirmed the opinion that I was not... well." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Were I not wealthy, I would probably be confined somewhere."
"You're telling me you're nuts?"
"An acquaintance once said I had a 'different slant' on things," Kuno said wryly. He turned and looked out over the mountain, revealing his classic profile. "Still, we're both missing parts of the real world — you, your past; myself, bits and pieces along the way."
"Yes, and neither one of us knowing if we're missing anything worthwhile," Yasashi mused. She glanced at Kuno and noticed how he almost posed himself for her benefit. Something inside twisted and she muttered, "Yeah, right!"
"Excuse me?"
"Nice try, jackass!" she growled. "I am not falling for that!"
"What?" He looked so honestly confused that she almost believed she was mistaken. Then he took a stride toward her and held out his arms comfortingly. She whirled the staff in reply and drove him back to a safe distance.
"Go hit on someone else, rich man," she snarled, hurling the staff to the ground at his feet and stalking off. "I'm outa here!"
Kuno was left in confusion and an odd sense of familiarity.
Dinner was served. A cart with a built-in hot grill was wheeled into place, and Yasashi took her spot behind it. The waiting guests watched as she twirled a spatula with practiced ease and went to work.
Tatewaki Kuno sat in silence, depressed and bored. The pretty chef had not returned to spar with him and had rebuffed any further attempts of his to discover the connection he was certain existed. He was also a bit put off at the enthusiasm the others held for, what was to him, plebian fare. His nose twitched as the first okonomiyaki came off the grill and landed on his plate. A 'special' she called it. He poked at it with little enthusiasm. The orders came thick and fast, as some of the guests seemed determined to imitate the eating style of the despicable Saotome. He cut a piece and placed it in his mouth. He froze.
Okonomiyaki was better fare than he had imagined. He had only had it a few times when slumming and the only other acceptable okonomiyaki he had tasted had been at Ucchan's back in Nerima. Well, it was good to know that someone else could make the dish. At the next opportunity, he ordered another and received a bright smile from the girl, as his enthusiasm was obvious. Somehow she managed to get everyone's orders to them in good time, inevitably accurate, even the length of the table.
He left the table quite a bit fuller than he had intended. The night was clear, the moon and stars bright so far from civilization's lights. He ardently wished he could have invited either Akane or the pigtailed goddess with him, but some things a man must do without the distraction of the fairer sex.
He sat in the main room with the shoji open, enjoying the breeze and the night sounds, a cup of warm sake from his own supply in one hand. Perhaps he could convince Yasashi to spar with him again. Who knew? Perhaps there was more to divert him here than he had expected. It was certainly more restful than the craziness that existed in Nerima, as Saotome moved through the town like an avalanche, chasing after Akane with his own sister and those other two girls following close behind, contributing to the problem. In fact, one of those girls was the proprietor of Ucchan's, the only other place where he had eaten good okonomiyaki...
He sat still suddenly frowning. He was close to something, he could tell. It niggled; it gibbered; and finally... it broke through.
"Ukyo Kuonji!"
Zadai came down the stairs from the living quarters of the main house to see who was making such a fuss. As expected the snotty, young nobleman was there, pounding on the desk and making a nuisance of himself. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" He moved to the desk and tried to look official and placating. "Now, young sir! How may— urk!"
Kuno grabbed him by the front of his coat and shook him, a grave impropriety even for a social superior to do.
"Where is Ukyo Kuonji!" he bellowed, face contorted. "What has happened to Saotome and the fair Akane?" That out and puzzling the frightened Zadai, he added, in a more reasonable tone, "For no other reason would she abandon her business, change her name and flee to this remote location!"
"You speak of Yasashi?" Zadai managed to get out.
"Zadai-san! What's wrong?"
"Kuonji!" The girl backed a step as Kuno released the old man and turned, thrusting an accusing finger at her and bellowing, "What do you here? Where is Saotome?"
"Sa-saotome? I... Who is..."
"I speak of the foul sorcerer, Ranma Saotome!" With difficulty he composed himself again. "Do not seek to dissemble, for you, too, were under his power, in thrall to his fatal attraction!"
"Ranma?"
"Arrgh! Is this more of his devilry?" He whirled. His servant had just staggered in, uniform in disarray. "Call for my copter! We must leave at once!"
"Ranma..." Yasashi was frowning. Kuno turned back to reach for Zadai and she punched him, catching him completely flat-footed. He crashed to the floor. Suddenly, her voice was filled with pain and tears poured down her face. "Ranma?"
Kuno, coming to on the floor, saw and sprang to his feet. He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders. "Weep not, fair Ukyo, for surely I, Tatewaki Kuno, shall avenge your shattered heart even as I avenge that of my loves! I shall wreck such veng— Urk!"
Kuno regarded Ukyo blearily from where she had embedded him in the wall.
"You... you... jackass!" she snarled.
"Now we know why she was so good at carpentry," commented Yoiko as she joined her husband. "Is your name really Ukyo, dear?"
"I... I don't know! I'm not sure I want to know!"
"Who is Ranma?"
"He is the foulest sorcerer on the face of the Earth! I, Tatewaki Kuno, am—URK!"
Kuno ended up in the wall again, upside down this time. Ukyo looked at him in disgust but also with relief. Kuno had his uses, even if it was primarily as a punching bag. She turned back to the couple.
"Ranma is the man I lo—!" She sighed. "He's the man I was engaged to marry." She sighed again, fighting back tears and remembered the older couple's kindnesses to a nameless vagabond. "C'mon, I don't really have anywhere I need to be these days. I might as well tell you the whole story."
Kuno slid from his vantage as the others disappeared into the shadows of the family quarters. Rubbing his head, he glared with righteous anger at their backs. Why did no one listen when he decried Ranma Saotome?
He knew of course. The knowledge of what he was and what he had done was well known to him. He even, almost,acknowledged the entire truth of his relationships to Ranma Saotome. It was this that had made him sign papers giving Sasuke certain authority with respect to the Kuno siblings. He knew, given the power, the little ninja would be faithful to the end, doing his duty, as he believed would best serve the house of Kuno.
His breath came heavily, his heart pounded. This is what the doctor had warned about. The shock… The over-stimulation... Breathe... Breathe...
"Sir! The helicopter should be here in two hours."
"You there!"
"Sir?"
Contact Sasuke! Tell him to make the arrangements!"
"Sir? I..."
"Just tell him!" Kuno pressed fingertips to his forehead. "And don't forget to pack my things." he added as an afterthought.
''I'm going out, Grandmother!'' Shampoo's voice lilted as she left the Nekohanten.
''Run through the market district, girl,'' came the reply from the back. ''We need onions, fresh chicken, peppers…'' The list was extensive, but Shampoo had long ago learned the knack of memorizing a spoken message. ''Take Mr. Part-time with you to carry things. I'm tired of cleaning up after that duck!''
There was a squawking and the sound of a cage door opening. Mousse flew out of the kitchen to land skidding on the floor. Once there, he looked around for Shampoo, quacking questioningly.
''You are no good to me that way, Mousse,'' she said with a smirk. ''Unless we have order for Cantonese Duck!'' She thought a moment. ''Grandmother, do we need duck?''
''Isn't Mousse out there, yet?''
''No! For Cantonese Duck! Do we need fresh duck?''
Cologne pogo-ed out the kitchen door, looked around and saw Mousse looking at the floor in disgust. They ran variations of this on him all the time and itreally got old. It didn't stop the old witch from driving home the point that he was considered second-class here.
''Like I said, we have Mr. Part-time, here. Why do we need fresh duck?'' Mousse-duck made an odd sound, something like a groan and Cologne bopped him on the head with her cane. ''Keep a civil tongue in your beak, Mousse.'' She sighed, then, herself bored with the old joke. They'd have to think of something else. They had time right now, after all, with Ranma out of town. ''Yes, get some ducks and make sure you stay away from the water this time. We almost lost him to one of the merchants last time you went to the market. You, girl, nearly got caught by that Korean yatai. I don't think the owner wanted a pet. I understand that cat is considered to taste like rabbit if you prepare it properly.''
Shampoo shuddered. That incident had given her much greater sympathy for Mousse. It helped that he had saved her that time, escaping from the fowlers to tack the yatai owner's sleeve to the side of his cart as only the Master of Hidden Weapons could do, then flying in his face till he let go of Shampoo. Remembering it, the Cantonese Duck joke held no further attraction and she resolved to avoid it in the future.
The incident created another odd problem, as well. She had been so shaken at the idea of being a meal — she knew Korean and yes, this restaurateur did have plans — that when they transformed back, she allowed Mousse to comfort her for several minutes without decking the young man. She had never been so embarrassed in her life, once her heart dropped back out of her throat.
Mousse seemed to have used those few minutes to build a sort of reserve for his rampaging emotions. Oh, he still talked to potted plants, telephone poles and coat racks, leaving his glasses up on his head, but he had not grabbed at her in a while. For Shampoo, this was part of the problem. She had, in retrospect, rather enjoyed being pressed against his hard, surprisingly muscular body and was guiltily looking forward to his next glomp.
Mousse disappeared into the kitchen and changed. Both ways. He returned in his usual white robes, bowed with calculated precision to Cologne and followed Shampoo out the door.
''Remember to return soon! We must load the truck for that special order for your Aunt Jan-Jan this afternoon.''
Shampoo made a face. She was fond of her aunt, who was visiting Japan on business, but she didn't like shopping on a time limit; it interfered with her ability to barter. She acknowledged Cologne's admonition.
Mousse and Shampoo walked some distance in silence.
''I am sorry to tease you like that, Mousse,'' Shampoo apologized to the startled man. ''Especially now that I know how it feels to be on the menu!'' She shuddered and he reached out to offer comfort, but restrained himself. Shampoo found herself both glad and sorry. If he had touched her, she would have had to punish him. She sighed. Being an Amazon warrior was not a simple matter.
Cologne watched them disappear around a corner and sighed. This whole business was getting old and few living creatures were as old as she was.
Shampoo had returned from the Tendo's and immediately expressed a host of objections to the way their plan to catch Ranma had gone. She pointed out heroines in modern Japanese popular literature, she noted and itemized what she discovered about how the Tendo girls treated men they knew and how others her age acted at the high school and in the date spots she occasionally managed to drag Ranma to. Some of the objections were, of course, raised because of the terrible uncertainty Shampoo developed with both Ranma and Akane gone. It had beenweeks since the latter had left town and if they were together…
The other part dealt with honest fact. It seemed their intelligence sources had severely misrepresented a woman's role in foreign cultures. The literature and movies they observed had shown women as malleable, obedient servants ready to swoon into the strong male's arms to win his affection. Since Cologne was 'outside' with her great-granddaughter, she discovered that there were quite a few available roles for women, and that most of the movies they used as 'intelligence' were mostly made for adult male perverts who couldn't get a date unless they paid for it. It was also interesting that the anime character Shampoo's airen most enjoyed was married and devoted to a noisy, shrewish woman who was quite capable of violence in an astonishing degree.
Cologne made a mental note to check if Wa Shi Kla, the woman who managed matriarchy's intelligence bureau, might have some ulterior motive to sabotage Shampoo's hunt. If it was a deliberate act, there might be a new chief of intelligence when Ku Lon the matriarch next returned to China.
Cologne sighed and turned on the TV. She had inserted an invitation for a free meal into the Tendo's mail in the hopes of attracting Nabiki back to the restaurant. She was to the point of interrogating the girl, then using a new variety of Formula 109 to erase the memories of the experience.
Flipping through the channels she tried to make better sense of the whole mess. Never had the rules of the Matriarchy clashed so with the outer world. Still, it had been fun and fun was important when you passed seventy. Without a sense of fun, the past two hundred years would have been pure hell.
Suddenly, she started and almost broke the remote turning back to a news channel running a public interest story. Then she grinned maniacally and hit the record button on the VCR. Shampoo should be very interested in this news item. Her cackling laugh caused shivers to run down the spines of passers-by.
Nor was Cologne the only person catching the interesting news. Among the throng, far from Tokyo, a slender dark-haired girl ate a quiet meal watching the news. Depressed by events of the past month, she listened with half an ear, the rest of her concentration on the sounds of the farm she lived on, in particular, the sounds of a pig weighing nearly one ton, leaning against the front door of the house.
"Katsunishiki! Go lie down!" she yelled. The pig retreated reluctantly. It was very devoted to Akari and wanted to be near her when she felt bad. "Oh, where is Ryoga?" she whispered. She took another bite of her pork stir-fry and gazed at another inane news story about another stupid event in another stupid place west of Tokyo featuring people who were not Ryoga.
Suddenly, she stopped in mid-chew. The news item just as suddenly gained in interest. Her plate rattled on the table. The door slammed shut as her grandfather called a query after her.
"I'll be back later, Grandpa," she called back. "Come on, Katsunishiki! Let's go!"
At the Tendo residence, a wrinkled old man sat morosely smoking his pipe. Beside him was a plate of his favorite food courtesy of Kasumi who would be nice even, probably, to Stalin, Hitler, Genghis Khan and other human disasters. He absently flipped channels, spending about ten seconds on each one.
The rest of the family was seated along the edge of the porch facing the koi pond. They had given up trying to watch the TV. Happosai had been flipping the channels at ten seconds a station for an hour. Kasumi sewed. Soun and Genma, visiting again, played mahjong. Nodoka was also sewing, though she had her katana unsheathed across her lap; and Nabiki sat and tried to do her homework while encouraging P-chan II to stay close by scratching behind his ears, which he loved. She wanted to keep him in reserve in case the perverted master decided to focus on her in his boredom.
Suddenly, there was a wild yell of 'Swee-to!' behind them, followed closely by a loud crash. They turned to look but all that was visible was a Happosai-shaped hole in the west wall of the house. Nabiki quickly checked the TV but the only thing on was a popular news program. Hardly something to excite the master, was it? But worse, Happosai had taken the remote with him.
"I wonder who's going to be enjoying his attentions this time?" Nabiki grimaced at the hole.
"At least it's not us!" replied Soun. He changed the channel manually till he found a soccer game. "Ahhh! That's more like it!"