2.13pm
Mousse couldn't believe his luck. Saotome, working under the same roof as he? The same gods who had cursed him with cripplingly poor eyesight; the same gods who had cursed him with an obsessive affection (that Mousse didn't seem to realize was another way of saying 'infatuation') with a girl who not only scorned his interests, but belittled and humiliated him at every available opportunity; the same gods who had just plain cursed him - had finally deigned to give him a break.
He now had a real opportunity to be rid of Ranma…
Save the chance involved something too extreme. Killing a person? …What transgression warranted such a punishment? Hurting Shampoo! How, questioned the dispassionate side of his mind; by rejecting her? Surely, Mousse hadn't wanted him to accept her? Murder in the name of such a frivolous…
It wouldn't be murder! It was be righteous, it would be… what? Irrevocable, that's what. But Shampoo would never see how he cared for her while being led on by Saotome!
Even if he told her. Even before Ranma came into the picture, she… She was younger then. And hadn't realised her true feelings. Ranma had stolen that chance from her. From Mousse. Enough procrastination. That… bastard deserved all he got!
But how to dispose of the wretch? It would be in his best interests to make it look like an accident. He'd have to be patient. No doubt the old mummy was anticipating action on his part. Laying low for a few days was in order. At least until the dried-up raisin let her guard down. And then…oh yes. Then there'd be a reckoning! Mousse began chuckling to himself in a somewhat demented fashion.
"Oh yes, Saotome," he chortled. "Just get good and comfortable, and then, wham! You won't know what hit you. Mark my words, Ranma. You won't survive the week!" The bespectacled boy concluded his diatribe with an equally boisterous sinister belly laugh (which would lead some to believe that Mousse had megalomaniacal tendencies).
As the white robed martial artist continued giggling in an unbalanced manner, Ranma, Cologne, and every customer in the restaurant, who had all heard Mousse's soliloquy simultaneously bigsweated.
7.34pm
"I wonder where Ranma is?" asked Nabiki of no one in particular. The others at the table paused at the unusual question from the girl. Nabiki fought back a blush as she realized she had spoken her thoughts aloud. Soun frowned in puzzlement from his position at the head of the table.
"Indeed, it is not like the boy to miss dinner like this." Turning his attention to his youngest daughter, the Tendo patriarch asked, "Akane, where is your fiancé?"
Not bothering to object to the term used to identify Ranma (she had become quite attached to it – not that she'd ever admit that to anybody), the girl honestly informed them of her ignorance.
Surprising everyone present, Kasumi volunteered some information.
"I saw Ranma entering the Nekohanten earlier. Perhaps he's still there?" she suggested amiably. Nobody noticed Nabiki's eyes widen.
"The Nekohanten?" repeated Akane, jealousy instinctively bubbling up inside her. It largely subsided when she recalled that Shampoo hadn't worked in the restaurant for several months.
"How would you know this, Kasumi?" asked Soun curiously. "I didn't realize that your book club gathered so far into town."
"Oh, it doesn't, father," replied the longhaired girl without missing a beat. "But they do sell the best ingredients for miso stew in the main market," she finished, gesturing at their meal while brandishing her trademark smile. The middle Tendo sister's quiet sigh went unnoticed by all save her elder sibling.
Soun, not unpredictably, broke into a tearful tirade regarding his great fortune in having such an attentive daughter. While Genma and Akane distractedly fought to keep Soun's tears at bay, Kasumi favoured Nabiki with a sly wink and a stealthy half-smile. Nabiki rolled her eyes and shook her head near imperceptibly, revealing a tiny grin.
---
8.09pm
Rub. Wipe. Rub some more. Such was the grind, contemplated Ukyo. She rolled her shoulders, watching her reflection do likewise in the spotless counter she had just finished wiping down. As the day died, business was gradually winding to a close at Ucchan's, peak hours tapering off. Thank god for that, she thought as she glanced at the second-accurate wall clock.
There were still nearly a couple of hours to go before closing time. But at least she could now afford to loosen up a little; the ravenous horde known as the dinner crowd having being satiated for another day. She eyed her outfit in the colourless reflection, ensuring it was without blemish. Anal-retentiveness satisfied, Ukyo flowed back to the grill, as her 'waitress' approached with another order.
"Fire away, Sugar," prompted the blue-eyed chef, giving her employee her attention. She swiftly readied two spatula 'shuriken' from her bandoleer as Konatsu spoke in his markedly effeminate voice.
"One seafood special and one house special, Ukyo-sama." The demure kunoichi never raised his eye level to that of Ukyo's.
Busy hands prevented Ukyo from smacking her own forehead in exasperation, as she muttered something along the lines of 'Oh, for the love of'.
"Natsu-chan? Didn't I tell you to cut that out last month?" And the month before that, and the month before that, and… Amazingly, Konatsu managed to lower his gaze further in his chastisement.
"I'm sorry. Please forgive me, Ukyo-sama."
"Urgh!" groaned the chef. "What did I just – huh?" Ukyo looked back in shock to see Konatsu concealing a giggle behind daintily manicured fingers. Konatsu… had been teasing her. Teasing her and she had fallen for it, hook, line and sinker.
Not bothering to restrain herself, she joined him giggling. Smiling broadly she handed him the two prepared okonomiyaki. "Good going, Sugar. Here you go." He nodded, taking both dishes.
"Thank you, Ukyo…san," he whispered, then scurried away looking for the entire world like the flushed teenage girl he perceived himself to be. Cute little guy, commented Ukyo to herself. Pity I'm not a lesbian, or I'd have jumped him long ago.
She looked to the door. Konatsu was attending to the last customers to enter, so she had a few minutes to herself. Pondering romantic issues as she just had, as always, brought up the subject of Ranchan.
Ukyo sighed at the thought of the pig-tailed martial artist. Not the wistful sigh of a lovesick teenager who envisions the perfect marriage to the boy of their dreams. She'd never accept being his equal anyway. Rather, it was the resigned sigh of someone who had accepted that their window of opportunity to get their erstwhile love had long since passed. And now she was lying. To herself. And that it was she herself who had cut it short.
"For the better," she concluded aloud, before pushing that traitorous thought aside.
Here I go again, she thought self-depreciatingly. Why did she obsess about him so? She wasn't in love with him anymore, and she knew, now, that he had never been in love with her.
Ah hell, she knew exactly why she still obsessed over Ranchan. Both real and home-approved versions. No, not the old cliché of being in forever-unrequited true love. Hell, if he walked in right now and declared his undying love for her, she doubted that she could honestly return it in full. Not that she'd turn him away of course. Even though she should. Quiet!
She still really liked him, and by gods, did that boy have one hot body.
The actual reason why she was unable to let go in her mind was that she realized something that maybe nobody else alive did: That it was entirely her fault that she didn't have Ranchan. Yep, she accepted it. She had screwed up. Dropped the ball. Let the side down. And all for the better. Enough already!
Hindsight might be twenty-twenty, but she had no excuse for being as blind and naïve as she had been that year she arrived in Nerima. It was kind of grating that she understood Ranchan better than the girl Ukyo felt if not necessarily for the long term, he'd eventually end up with. Would have already ended up with, she amended, had it not been for Shampoo, Kodachi and her own actions during the three attempted weddings several months back. Gods, she'd never live that down. What an selfish little mooncalf she had been.
Yes, she admitted with not a little self-disgust. There was the root of her problems; of her screw-up. She knew that wasn't entirely…True.
While the chef may have never laced Ranma's food with mind-altering toxins, or attempted to flat-out murder Akane, Ukyo still found that she could be neatly grouped into a trio that consisted of Shampoo, Kodachi, and herself.
The girl shuddered again. But hell, at least she was learning from most of her mistakes. Hell, at least she knew she even made them.
What she understood was that Ranma wouldn't – couldn't – be forced. As shy as he sometimes inadvertently revealed himself to be, Ranma was male (most of the time) and an alpha male (this wasRanma) was not a prize to be won. Subconsciously, Ranma likely felt that he should be the aggressor. But he had never had the chance.
While crude, she felt that this analogy held merit. She, Ukyo Kuonji, should never have chased Ranma. In fact, she would have been better served trying to pummel him just like she had when she'd first come to Nerima (although that, she conceded, wouldn't have been the best path either).
You did't chase Ranma. Nor did you get him to chase you – that wouldn't work either, Ukyo decided, recalling the incident with Shampoo and the reversal jewel.
No, with Ranma, you had to let him fall in love with you.
Now, how on earth did this apply to Ukyo? After all, everyone, Yuka, Sayuri, the rest of Furinkan – hell, all of Nerima, was sure that Ranma Saotome loved Akane Tendo. That, agreed Ukyo, was the bitter end of things. Was she sure? She still cared for him. Could she condemn him to that if she wasn't certain. Could she condemn Akane? Anybody?
So where did the okonomiyaki chef come into it? After all, Ranma and Akane were destined to fall in love. Wrong. Ranma and Akane actively fell in love over a period of several weeks and months. Ukyo wasn't about to allow herself to be fed that fate BS.
Having established extreme cynicism, one again faces the same frustrating question. Where did Ukyo come in? Even if Ranma hadn't been destined to love Akane, and instead fallen in love with the Tendo girl over a period of time and the passing of various events, how would Ukyo not having jumped on the fiancée bandwagon have changed a damn thing?
Simple, really. Had she not become the third stooge, Ranma wouldn't have viewed her as 'oh joy, another one', but rather as Ukyo: Ucchan. No tainted perceptions. Just Ucchan.
Yep, Ukyo felt that on a level playing field, Ranma would have fallen in love for her over Akane. And that would have been disastrous. Truthfully, she had no doubt of it. Arrogant? Yes. Accurate? Hell, yeah.
People talk about love-hate relationships likes it's a common thing. –Cough-bullshit!-Cough-. Sure, relationships do exist where there is a constant blurring of love and hate, but guess what made an even stronger foundation for love? Actually liking someone!
And even now, Ukyo didn't feel that Ranma liked Akane very much, if in fact at all. He's infatuated with her. Loved her with all his heart and soul to the very core of his being, sure. Like I was with him. But liking her? That's getting ahead of yourself.
Ranma and Ukyo on the other hand? They liked each other. A lot. She had lived for his approval. But, alas, Ukyo's own obtuseness had nullified any effect that this would have had, when she positioned herself as Larry to Shampoo and Kodachi's Curly and Mo.
And that, concluded Ukyo to herself, was why she couldn't get over it. Then, only his validation had made her existence worthwhile. She was, well… kind of a control freak. Why was she deceiving herself? That she had screwed up so regally irked her no small amount. Petty as hell, but undeniably true. Oh god, why couldn't she just…
It was quite a common thing for a chefs to be perfectionists. It's a profession where mistakes aren't tolerated, and Ukyo planned to be the greatest okonomiyaki chef in all of Japan.
Why was that again? Oh yes. To get Ranma. Damnit, where was the self-deception that had kept her comfortable and insulated that past year?
A broken whisper. "I'm…" drowning in it.
She really needed a change of pace. Maybe she could enter a few tournaments? Not Martial Arts Okonomiyaki. Just martial arts. Hmm, that would be nice. Yeah, and if wishes were horses, everyone would have their own Ranchan. She had to stop thinking about this. It was only hurting her. After all, it wasn't as though some outlet for a fresh beginning was going to drop into her lap out of the blue. Enough introspection, she had a customer to serve. "Welcome to Ucchan's," she greeted. "What can I get you?"
"Ukyo? What are you doing in Kobe?"
"This is pushing it."
"What's that?"
"Nothing. Your usual is the Kosher Special, right?"
---
8.39pm
Dinner had concluded uneventfully. Kasumi had managed to salvage enough from Mr. Saotome's post-meal onslaught of the fridge to at least present Ranma with a semblance of something more than a snack whenever he returned.
Kasumi returned to the family table to find Akane leaning on her elbows and staring out the back door at nothing in particular, her other sister watching her. The fathers had nominally adjourned themselves to a game of go, but their absence suggested that the local bar had two new patrons. Idly, Kasumi observed Nabiki's appraisal of her younger sister. Lost in her own world, Akane didn't see Kasumi raise a questioning eyebrow at Nabiki, who mouthed back 'Ranma'. She nodded in understanding, as Akane mumbled more to herself than her sisters, "I wonder what that baka's up to at the Nekohanten?" Present in her voice was the accustomed irritation at the mention of her fiancé. These days however, it was overlapped by a layer of wistful fondness that left the older sisters (and most of the town) in no doubt as to the progress in Akane and her fiancé's relationship.
With a questioning, strangely pleading expression, Nabiki looked to her older sister. She felt Akane should know that Ranma had had to earn what he'd eventually use to buy her…what it was that he was going to buy her. He already had a large-ish sum deposited, and needed only to pay off the last fraction. Feeling quite low for her (sadly unavoidable) actions earlier, she felt she at least owed this much to her future brother in law.
Nabiki just hoped Kasumi felt the same way.
Sympathetically, the Tendo pseudo-mother shook her head. Out of Akane's line of sight, she held up four fingers. Nabiki's face fell. Steeling herself, she looked back at her older sister and covertly raised two fingers.
Kasumi turned her gaze to Akane, and then back to her other sister. She lowered her pinkie. With a sigh, Nabiki nodded. The whole exchange had taken five seconds and most of her mental reserves. With some distaste, Nabiki donned her Ice Queen mask – something that had at one point become ominously close to irremovable – and said tonelessly to Akane,
"Three thousand yen."
Blinking herself back to lucidity, Akane turned guileless eyes upon her sister. The older of the two had to fight to maintain her façade.
"Three thousand yen?" the dark haired girl repeated, not fully comprehending the situation yet, her brow furrowing in confusion. Her expression abruptly slackened. "Oh," she replied flatly, "Three thousand yen." She looked Nabiki in the eyes a moment. What Akane didn't see was the girl digging her fingernails into her thigh. "I'll…I'll go get my purse," answered Akane, rising from the table.
"Nabiki," gently admonished Kasumi as the young girl began climbing the stairs, "that wasn't very nice of you." The girl at the table didn't react.
"It's alright, Kasumi-oneechan," commented Akane from the stairway. "You know what they say, 'The more things change…'" She looked back to Nabiki. "I'll be back in a few minutes." Momentarily, they heard Akane's door opening and shutting.
As though that sound were a switch Nabiki's nonchalance fell away. Kasumi rushed to her side as she just refrained from smashing her fist on the table, but not her chips. With bone dry eyes, she growled,
"I can't keep doing this Kaz. It's making me sick just to..."
"It's alright," said the older girl soothingly.
"Did you see her face?" growled Nabiki, as Kasumi quickly offered her a tissue. "And Ranma's today. That was even worse." She wiped at her chin. "I'm not sure how long I can go on like this."
"We have to, Biki," she quoted gravely. Her tone abruptly changed. "Now quit whining and get yourself cleaned up before Akane comes back down." Nabiki raised her eyes back to her sister.
"Always one for the comforting, reassuring speeches, aren't you Kaz?"
"Heh, you know me," she chuckled. "I live to serve. And you think you have it bad." She glanced at the stairs. "Hurry to the bathroom and clean yourself up. I'll run interference on HurriKane. Get going."
---
"Finish up, Mr. Part-time," instructed the Amazon Elder. "Daughter-in-law and I have things to discuss." Ranma cringed at the title. Halfway through the evening, he had rather vehemently insisted that Cologne desist in using the 'son-in-law' moniker (actually what she had said more resembled, 'Quit callin' me that old ghoul, if ya know what's good for ya!'). Since then, the Joketsuzoku matriarch had delighted in using Ranma's new nickname whenever she had least expected it, and the audience, er, customers, had ate it up faster than the beef-bowl.
Cologne smirked as the redhead growled at her new label. Daughter-in-law (Heh) really ought to grow thicker skin. There she was, one of the most powerful martial artists of her generation – and yet, she couldn't handle a joke.
"I don't know why you're so upset, daughter-in-law," sniggered the old woman from atop her cane. "After all," she said indicating Ranma's hourglass figure, "I think the new name suits you better in the capacity of the work and all."
---
