Different style this time, hope it's okay.

This chapter is set the evening after Ranma and Akane first meet the Golden Pair at the ice rink, in Volume 2.

A fine print haiku:

Takahashi please

do not send your lawyers, I

make no cash, have none

Trophies

by katyclismic

Chapter 2: Kata

Punch left, right. Breathe in. High roundhouse kick. Breathe out. Sweat drips down my neck, itching and uncomfortable, if all too familiar. Left-hand jab, twist and block. Breathe in. Kick hard, and expel air with a grunt. Not ladylike, but I don't have to be. Shouldn't have to be. Leap backwards, but off-balance. I'm losing the rhythm, darnit.

I struggle to regain concentration, and force my face to relax from a scowl. Start over. Punches, one-two, fast as I can. Kick up, feeling the stretch of muscles. Breathing steady and in control - power over myself, power over my enemies. Breathe out, jab, twist, and block. Can't forget to keep toes flat – mid-level kick. A vision of a certain jerk's face is under my foot for a half a heartbeat, then I retreat (strategically, of course, I'll be back in his space in no time) and block. Sloppy – I'm getting distracted. Biting my lip, I continue anyway.

Stupid Ranma - block - and his stupid challenges – duck – and his stupid ego – leg sweep – why me? – kick – Nabiki wouldn't put up with this – down – Kasumi wouldn't put up with this. Nobody – uppercut – in their right mind – jab – would put up with this. A twist – arggh, that was way too sloppy – and roll. I can feel that my neck's not loose enough. Sloppy-slop, cannot stop – Dad's nonsense rhyme swims up out of the depths of memory. Happier times, father-daughter bonding over easy little kata, working until my four-year-old self got them right. Mom smiling at us over a basket of laundry.

I growl, trying to clear the pain in my throat. Punch left again, hard. Almost an over-extension, have to watch that. Punch right, breathe in. Control, calm – grief's only a memory. Another kick pulls my sweat-soaked and nasty gi over too-warm skin. Almost done, surely? Maybe one more round after this, then I can have a bath. Jab and twist.

Annoying as he is, though – block, turn – he couldn't wig me out as badly as Mikado – kick. I smirk at my internal announcer-voice and retreat again – "Mikado Sanzenin, unbelievably conceited male half of the Golden Pair, enters the rink" - the fluidity, the rightness of the move this time makes me happier. Double block, nice and crisp, and then drop into a neat swipe that would've taken the legs out from Mikado. The following kick crushes his windpipe. I drop below the phantom retaliation – have to assume there could be one – and deliver an uppercut, sign here please and have a good night, buh-bye.

I've had enough experience with guys being pushy that my, ah, forcible rejection – another jab – of Mikado was simple enough – feint – even if he is creepier than even Kuno – much better roll, but I'm still too tense. Note to self: do not tell Kuno that, he'd take it as encouragement. Yech. Start again with another two punches, not sure which of the three guys I'm aiming at. Maybe a weird amalgamation of all three. I kick high, musing. Ranma's a dork, but he has a good heart – jab – I think. Kuno's insane, but he's honorable in his weird-ass, twisted way. Mikado, though – the shudder almost screws up my next move – he treats girls like statistics, another notch in the pole.

And poor Ranma - I kick, sure-footed, smashing my imaginary Mikado's expensive nose. I snort with my next exhale – sympathy for Ranma? I must be nuts. I leap back, not as clean this time, I'm getting tired. But to have your first kiss from somebody like that, yeeacch! Defensive moves, then another swipe at Mikado's knees. I don't think it matters what gender Ranma was at the time, it was still a first kiss.

The hard kick feels good, again catching my imaginary opponent and sending him reeling. I drop and launch myself up fist-first, anger lending me new energy. That was supposed to be mine, I think, jabbing the air where a smarmy brunette head should be. I hadn't been 100 percent positive that Ranma hadn't kissed anyone yet, but finding out he hadn't, and that it was wasted on that perv Mikado, made me feel unexpectedly awful. I'm not supposed to care. I don't care. I dodge and turn into the final roll, ending the last repetition. Yeah, keep telling yourself that.

I sit for a minute, enjoying the satisfying tingle of thoroughly-worked muscles. My heart and breath are going fast, though not overly so. A flicker of thought makes me blush – is this what Ranma could do to me, if we-? – before being banished to the hidden corners of my subconscious. Evil evil evil. I'm thankful my face is already flushed from exercise, even though no one is there to see but P-chan, and he wouldn't be talking.

Stretching feels great, little pains shooting through the pleasure. There's a German word for that, I think, or is it only enjoying the pain of other people? I could ask Kodachi, I suppose… I think I'm mostly joking. I roll my eyes at P-chan and say aloud, "Why do people have be so weird?" I only half-hear his cute little confused bwee? as I try to convince my legs to move me upright. I scootch ineffectually across the floor for a few seconds, before finally clambering up with a suppressed groan. The days at the ice rink have just destroyed my normal routine.

P-chan roots around my ankle, chuffing gently. I guess he can tell when I'm tired, smart little guy. I pick him up and snuggle him close, hoping that my sweatiness wouldn't offend his porcine sensibilities. He sighs, I smile. P-chan was one of the few things around here who looked to me for protection, and I know it's silly but it makes me feel better to mother something. Since Kasumi kind of has the market cornered, it's probably the most feminine thing I can do. Plus he's apparently versatile enough to survive the chaos that is the Tendo Dojo without being driven insane or hideously maimed, which is a step up from most of the inhabitants. I start toward the kitchen - a glass of water sounds divine.

Kasumi's there, prepping dinner already. Looks up, smiles, greets me and my piglet. Offers us tea. Why does she always offer P-chan hot tea? Not really a pig drink. Maybe she's just that trained in being a host. I shake my head, laughing. "No," I say, "I'm fine. Just water." My throat's almost closed up, it's so dry.

Cold, clean relief comes in a glass. Almost too cold – it makes me want to cough, which I solve by snitching a grilled carrot from Kasumi's pan. It warms my throat going down. I drain another chilly glass, watching Kasumi bustle around the kitchen. P-chan isn't thirsty, so I set the dish in the sink, thoughtfully. "Nee-chan," I say slowly, a vague idea forming.

"Mm?" she responds, measuring a teaspoon – maybe a tablespoon, I always forget which is the big one, and why we don't have metric measures in the house is a source of constant mystery to me – of some spice or other. Not pepper, I can recognize pepper. "Did you need something?"

A breath, steadying. My voice can't waver or she'll suspect something. "What was your first kiss?"

A tinny clang rings through the kitchen, her spoons dropping to the floor. She stares at me in almost comical shock, her expression alarmed, and alarming. Then she's gripping my shoulders and asking breathlessly, "Did you and Ranma-"

"Ugh, Kasumi!" I didn't think she'd take it that way. I feel that horrible betraying blush rise up into my cheeks, and shake my head firmly. "NO. I was just wondering."

"Oh." She didn't have to look so darn disappointed. "Oh. Fiddlesticks. There's fenugreek all over the floor…" Through her bustling to sweep up the spice seeds and washing of various implements, I wait patiently at the counter for her answer. P-chan's very snuggly today, and I smooch the tip of his ear absently.

"My first kiss," Kasumi continues at last, dreamily stirring in the new spoon of fennel. Her eyes are very far away. "My, what was that boy's name? Matsuo something." I bite my lip, wide-eyed. She doesn't remember? She glances at me, though, and sees my expression. "Oh, Akane, it was the third grade. Of course I don't remember his full name."

Head, meet kitchen counter. (Hi, counter!) Groan. "The third grade? Jeez, Kasumi. I don't think that counts."

She blinks at me, smiling softly. "Well, it was. If you mean a first romantic, grown-up kiss, well…" She sprinkles some green leafy things into the pan. Come on, Kasumi, spill it! "It was a boy named Aisatsu, in my last year of school."

I wait, but that's all she's giving me. "AND? How was it? What happened? Was it weird?" Boy, that wasn't pathetically eager or anything. I pinch myself to remind me to stay cool.

She shrugs, but her eyes are still dreamy. "We went together everywhere – we were really best friends more than a couple. But we thought we could try to be." She's silent for a moment longer. The spoon moves in lazy circles. "I thought it was very romantic at the time, but I didn't… think of him that way. Not like-" She stops, then finishes lightly, "not like it was love." I know she was going to say Dr. Tofu, it's painfully obvious. I'm really glad I got over him, or this conversation would be painful. More painful.

"Yeah, but – are you glad you did it then? Or do you think you should have waited?" …for Dr. Tofu, I add in my head.

"Oh, I don't have any regrets over my first kiss, Akane." Her eyes twinkle as she looks at me and I know I'm not going to like her next words. "But I wasn't betrothed, either."

"That's not the point," I say stiffly. But it is, and I know it, and she knows it. I tell myself, as always, that my heart and mind – and lips – are my own to deal with as I please, Dad's silly engagement or not. But a little jealous voice is repeating but he was supposed to kiss me first. I was supposed to be his first, and he mine. I sigh into P-chan, just now realizing that I'm using him as both security blanket and handkerchief. Well, at least Kasumi won't see my traitorously leaky eyes.

"Anyway." Let's drag the conversation away from my emotional train wreck of a personal life, please. "I was wondering if you thought it was… you know, special." One-of-a-kind. Can't be repeated. The moment once lost, is lost forever. I feel tears start up again and bury my face in P-chan's fuzzy haunch.

Kasumi's silent, thinking. I wait. The gi is sticky and heavy, and I really need a bath. I'm sure both P-chan and Kasumi would appreciate it. But I need to hear this, whatever it's going to be.

"It's the kind of thing you always remember," she replies finally. "But will it matter to you as a grandmother?" I snort again at the thought, but I've been crying and - ew. Sorry, P-chan. Kasumi ignores us and continues. "It's special, but it doesn't define anything. It's just..." She waves the spoon vaguely. "A memory, an instance."

Well, that was… anti-climactic. But- "Didn't you and Nabiki over-react to him kissing Mikado, if that's what you believe?"

My sister laughs at the memory. "Oh my, that was fun." Kasumi is so disturbing when she's evil. "Ranma was more disturbed by the fact that he kissed a boy, not that it was his first kiss. He needed to be redirected."

Wow, that sounds ominous. "Redirected? To what?" My tone is suspicious.

Kasumi's eyes are twinkling again. "What do you think is more productive: regret because his girl-self kissed a guy, or regret that he never kissed you first?"

I can feel a blush rising, but so is my annoyance. "So it all goes back to getting us together? Great."

Kasumi shrugs, smug smile in place. "Oh, you'll thank me eventually, Akane-chan."

I scowl, but I'm not thinking of her perfidy. What's caught me is that my sisters also unknowingly distracted Ranma from something else, and maybe I should be grateful for that, for his sake. The week before last, when he showed up in my room, he had said (ineptly and not without a number of backhanded insults) that he understood that I didn't want to be a trophy. And I'm pretty sure that came from having Kodachi almost kiss him. (The usual worried little voice chimes in – almost? How do you know that, really? What if he lied? But I ignore it.) So this must have been a thousand times worse, having a guy actually make girl-Ranma a conquest. Surely Ranma is just as horrified as I am when we're powerless.

But I've been too quiet and Kasumi's looking at me with satisfied, twinkling eyes. I stop worrying my lower lip and stick my tongue out at her. "I'm going to bathe, meddlesome one. Thanks for the chat."

"Any time, dearest," Kasumi sings after me. I gratefully escape the kitchen with P-chan, back into the cooler air of the hallway.

Right. Shower, then homework. First kisses, bah. In the privacy of my own room, I smooch P-chan on his wrinkly little snout, then hold him critically at arms length. "Well, looks like you're no prince," I tell him mock-seriously. "I guess I'll have to wait." For Ranma, that evil voice whispers again. Hush, self. Ignoring you. I set him down at the foot of my bed, but he's still playing dead, like he always does when I'm affectionate. Little sweetie. "At least you're my first kiss, P-chan," I tell him softly, scritching the backs of his ears. But pets don't count, and it isn't entirely true anyway, I must've kissed my old cat Momi a thousand times. Well, a piglet is unlikely to call me on it, so whatever.

He's still watching me with worshipping eyes as I go out the door with my robe and towel. So cute!

AN:

…once lost, is lost forever. This is a deliberate use of a line from Pride and Prejudice, if anyone noticed.

Ma belle beta, Indygodusk, raised the question of how to pluralize kata in an English story, given that Japanese naturally avoids plurals. Kata or katas: anybody have an opinion? I'll keep it singular for now, I guess.

A little clarification: The bit where I say that she could ask Kodachi what the German word is - the word I'm thinking of is shadenfreude, which does mean pleasure in the pain of others. I wasn't thinking of Kodachi as speaking German so much as being very familiar with the
concept.

One more: Fenugreek seeds are usually used to spice up curry while fennel is a sweet, leafy plant used to season salads, stuffings, etc. It was deliberate when I had Akane (a la the narrative) think "fennel" almost immediately after Kasumi said it was fenugreek. I think that's the kind of mistake Akane would make, which partially explains her kitchen skills. :)

Many vociferous thanks go to Indygodusk for promptly and insightfully editing this chapter, as it would have absolutely lacked a couple of key elements had she not done so. grovels at beta-feet Peeled grape, mistress? (Edit: whoops, changed that name. Hey, if you had any idea how many times I've caught myself from typing "indygoduck" you wouldn't feel so bad... ahaha)

Many thanks also to Valentina, Vaniah, mysterychild, Mx Opit, Triste1, tigerdreams, CurlsofGold, RndmEvllady4ever, and Preistess Kohana for your encouragement. You guys are the reason I post, really. huggles!

(Edit: Triste1, thanks for the praise, as well as the headsup on that sentence! I had tried to alter the tone a little and forget to change the rest of the sentence with it. Gah.)