Martial Arts Motherhood Challenge Chapter 5 – Toto, We're Not in Nerima, a ranma fanfic

Chapter 5 - Toto, We're Not in Nerima Anymore

The limo picked them up at the corner of 9th and First Avenue then began threading its way uptown through the sparse Sunday afternoon traffic. Ranma and Debra sat silently in back with a large bag of taiyaki pies on the seat between them.

Ranma gazed out the window like any tourist. She hadn't known this much of Manhattan was free of skyscrapers. When they crossed 23rd Street and the buildings grew taller, the sun disappeared and Debra sighed.

Ranma stopped looking out the window and turned to face the despondent blonde, "It's not your fault Debora-san," she said in Japanese, "You said yourself it was bound to get out after what I did yesterday. I am surprised they saw the broadcast live at the conference, but hopefully it won't spoil the mood for the demo tonight. Was Jeffu angry?"

"He didn't seem upset," Debra said dejectedly, "if anything he sounded in better spirits than he did this morning, but he's still hiding something. I can just feel it, there's something going on that he's afraid to tell me about."

"Well, if he's trying to hide something from me, sending a car to pick us up was a poor way of doing it." Ranma looked out the window again and saw the distinctive outline of the United Nations building approaching on the right, "We'll be back at the hotel in just a few minutes."

They drove beyond the famous edifice then turned left down 49th Street. When the limo crossed Third Avenue it slowed and started turning into an alley. Debra leaned forward and addressed the driver in English, "Why are we turning here? The hotel's on Lexington."

"Yes ma'am, but I was told to take you to the service entrance."

"Now I know something's up," Debra said sitting back in her seat and crossing her arms defensively.

The car bumped along the potholed alleyway past tall heaps of plastic trash bags ready for an early Monday morning pickup. Halfway through the alley they turned down a ramp leading to an underground loading dock. The limo pulled up in front of an unadorned concrete staircase and the driver stepped out to get the door. They were met by a uniformed man who led them up the steps, through the kitchens and onto a service elevator.

"Is this man a police officer?" Ranma asked in Japanese.

"No," Debra replied, "I think he's part of hotel security."

Ranma looked at the gun on the man's belt, the two cans of pepper spray, the electronic stun device and the pair of handcuffs. She couldn't imagine a Tokyo policeman that heavily armed, much less a hotel security guard.

The elevator opened on the floor where the conference was being held that day and the guard led them down the hallway. When they reached their destination, the man took up a position next to the door and reported in on a small radio, "Both packages have been delivered, resuming my watch."

Debra stared at the man in astonishment, "What the hell's going on here?" she demanded. When the man refused to answer, she looked a Ranma and said in Japanese, "I feel like we're about to enter the war room at the Pentagon."

Ranma shrugged, "There's only one way to find out." She pulled open the door and they walked into something almost as outrageous.

o o o

Russell sat in the lobby of a small west side hotel where the demo participants were staying surrounded by some of his fellow students from Ohio. They were gathered around the TV panel in the wall above the fireplace watching the news. They caught the first broadcast purely by accident as they were walking through the lobby on their way out to do some sightseeing. Since then they had attracted a larger crowd of mostly Anything Goes students from all over the country, some who were seeing the footage for the very first time.

Russell watched the now familiar scene play out in slow motion. He couldn't understand what was wrong with Ranko, she should have flattened the guy with her first kick. He was certain that given the circumstances and the advantage of an aerial approach he could have taken out a gunman like that without assistance. It was unthinkable that Ranko Saotome needed help, especially from someone as unskilled as Mrs. Suzuki.

"Who's the blonde?" asked one of the newcomers.

"That's Suzuki-sensei's wife," answered one of the students from Arizona, "She's some kind of executive with the company."

"Well, for an executive she kicks some major ass!"

Russell snorted at that, "Like hell! That was a beginner's move..." he thought, "even if she did execute it perfectly."

"Looked like intentional clipping if you ask me," someone said.

"I'll give her a fifteen yard penalty anytime," called out another.

As the group erupted into laughter and good-natured shoving all around him, Russell tried to focus on the TV because something new was being added to the story. It looked like an interview with Ranko and Mrs. Suzuki, "Hey, everyone," he shouted, "Hold it down, Saotome-sensei's being interviewed."

It took some time for the adolescent silliness to die down so he missed the first couple of questions, but then the reporter asked if the women would be displaying their own talents at the demo tonight.

"No," Mrs. Suzuki said on screen, "I don't usually participate in demos and Saotome-sensei can't in her condition."

"Debra-san!"

"Gomen nasai sensei!"

"Her condition? Are you saying that Ms. Saotome is pregnant?"

The room began to swim around Russell as he slipped off the edge of the couch and fell to his knees staring numbly at the image on the screen. "I'm going straight to hell," he thought wretchedly.

"Mr. Vogel? Are you all right?"

"I... I threw a sucker punch at a pregnant woman," he groaned.

"You did what? That's pretty lame, man!"

"That's not the worst of it," he choked out, "then I tried to pick her up in a bar!"

o o o

The room had changed dramatically from this morning when the tables and chairs had been set up schoolroom fashion facing the front. Now they were all pulled back towards the walls forming a large horseshoe shaped table that ringed the room. Spread across this was a mass of wires and dozens of telephones.

At the front of the room Jeff's assistant Kelley sat in front of a bank of computers that looked like the control panel for a space launch. Every laptop that could be found had been pulled into service and conference attendees were alternately answering phones or typing furiously at keyboards. At the center of all this activity stood Jeff Atkins, a cell phone in one hand and a tablet computer in the other, jabbering animatedly into a wireless headset.

"...sorry, but we're unable to schedule any interviews at this time. The conference is ending and everyone's going home tomorrow. However, if you'll contact us through the company website we'll try and arrange something at a later date... Yes, thank you for your interest." Jeff ended the call and stuffed the cell phone into his pocket. Spotting Ranma and Debra by the door, he motioned them over.

A murmur passed through the busy room as they entered and happy faces turned their way along with lots of upturned thumbs. As one of the franchise owners rushed past them, he turned with a big grin on his face and said, "Congratulations sensei!" Then he turned back to Jeff and said hurriedly, "I've been able to confirm that the truck from D.C. is on its way and they're loading another one in Philadelphia as we speak. In Boston they're collecting stock from all the dojo's and expect to be on the road within the hour."

"Good job," Jeff said with obvious relief, "how about Albany?

"I finally got through, but they can't help us out. They've been putting off reordering until next month when they place a big order for the state fair. All they have is about half a dozen shirts at the dojo itself."

"We'll just have to make due with what we've got coming. How are you planning to handle selling all this stuff?"

"My wife's rounding up a van full of students right now and will drive them in from Long Island," the man said with a proud smile.

"Great effort Ben," Jeff beamed, "I knew I could count on you. Remember our goal is to get the name out and not to gouge people for money, but let's at least try and break even."

"You got it boss!" Ben said giving a salute and then hurrying back to his phone.

Jeff reached out his hand to Ranma, "Man, I'm I glad to see the two of you!"

Rather than shake Jeff's hand Ranma passed him the bag of pastries, "Jeffu, what go on here?"

"Yeah," added Debra, "what the hell is all this?"

Jeff looked into the bag, "Ooh, taiyaki! Let's go outside and talk. Otherwise we're bound to get ambushed before too long." He walked up to his assistant, "Kelley, hold any calls. Here's something to feed the troops with, be sure to save one for me." Kelley raised her hand in an okay sign, but never looked away from her console.

The tall American ushered them outside, past the armed guard and down to the end of the hallway near a window overlooking Lexington Avenue. With a big grin he said, "First, let me tell you that was really great television exposure, mediocre martial arts of course, but a great show."

Ranma blushed a little, "I protect baby."

"Yeah," Jeff nodded, "I figured as much. Anyway it really fired up the troops."

"Wait," Debra said looking confused, "What are you talking about? Ranma hit that guy a lot harder than she should have."

"Maybe," said Jeff with a chuckle, "but if Ranma had really hit him they'd still be picking pieces of the guy out of the sidewalk. You've only seen what Ranma does at demos, Debra. I've seen her in real fights and it's awesome to watch."

Ranma shook her head, "Not hit defenseless man hard. Not fair."

"He wasn't defenseless, he was holding a shotgun!" Debra exclaimed. When Jeff and Ranma just grinned boyishly back at her, she spat out, "You men are incorrigible!"

Jeff raised an eyebrow, "I see you've become a believer. What convinced you, the video?"

"No, it was her ability to change the subject when she's hiding something," Debra said sarcastically, "Let's get back on track, Jeff. What's going on around here? Why did we have to come in through the back door? And why is that armed goon standing guard over a room full of the world's best kempo instructors?"

"Fair enough," Jeff said with a sigh, "come take a look at this." He walked over to the window and pointed down at Lexington Avenue. On the far side of the street five vans were parked at the curb. Each one had a different channel number painted in big numerals on the side and they all had a long extendable antenna on the roof pointed roughly at the Empire State Building a few blocks away. "Those TV crews have been here all afternoon waiting for you two. That's why we brought you in the back way and why the hotel is insisting on the security guards."

"But, Jeffu," Ranma asked looking perplexed, "we on TV already."

"Yes," Jeff said, "but that was just a small Hispanic community channel. These guys are from the big network stations and they all want a piece of the story."

"Why?" asked Debra, "If channel 18 is just a smalltime local outfit, how did the networks find out about this?"

"They may be small," Jeff explained, "but they're not dumb. They sold the footage to a news broker who in turn sold it to the big guys. It ran on CNN first at two o'clock, then Fox News picked it up twenty minutes later. For all we know it's running on the Cartoon Network by now."

"That explains the security," Debra said, "but what's with the war room in there?"

"Everyone so busy," Ranma asked, "something else wrong, yes?"

"Right after the live broadcast, people started calling the Roseland Ballroom. They only have one phone in their office so they put on a recording directing everyone to call here. The hotel staff was really good about telling people when and where the demo was, at least until the story broke on CNN. After that the calls started pouring in, so the manager of the hotel came up to ask us for help."

Jeff leaned against the wall and crossed his arms like he was settling in for a while, "I was really impressed the way everyone pitched in. The hotel had that phone system set up for us in just a few minutes, but since there was no time to program it Kelley stepped in to act as switchboard operator. We split everyone up into groups, one for requests about the demo, another for information on the schools, media inquiries, that sort of thing.

"Then the Roseland people contacted us. Based on the number of inquiries we were getting they decided to move us from the smaller venue in the basement up to the main floor. So we shifted into overdrive to scale up our plans for tonight."

"How big is the new venue?" Debra asked.

"Thirty-one hundred standing, but that's before they set aside space for the media. Because we announced the demo is open to the public, there's no way we can keep out the TV cameras."

Ranma's eyes grew wide with sudden excitement, "Jeffu, this mean student on TV also?"

Jeff grinned, "I was hoping you'd catch that. If we put you two on stage at the beginning and at the end I think we can pretty much guarantee a least some of the kids will make it on the eleven o'clock news."

Debra paled slightly, "You... you want both of us on stage?"

"Sorry Deb, you're half of the Anything Goes Dynamic Duo. I just wish we had time to rehearse a reenactment of what you guys did this afternoon, but we'll just have to settle for a smile and wave... oh and the presentation of course."

"Presentation?" Ranma and Debra said in chorus.

"We got a call from the mayor's office about an hour ago asking about your availability later in the week. I explained that the conference was ending in the morning and we're all flying home tomorrow. So they agreed to do it at the demo tonight, but on such short notice the mayor won't actually be there. Just someone from his office and they're going to give you each a citation for bravery," Jeff gave them a big grin, "It'll be a fantastic photo-op and that's why I need you both looking like superstars tonight."

o o o

Jeff arrived at the Roseland Ballroom shortly after five o'clock to find the place alive with activity. Workmen were busy in the back of the hall erecting raised platforms for the media and the stage preparations were well underway. Compared with the room downstairs that he had been shown Friday night, this one was huge. If they really managed to fill it up, tonight would easily qualify as the largest demo ever put on by Anything Goes.

He turned to Kelley and said, "See if you can find Brian, I want to know how the arrangements for the participants are coming along." Kelley simply pointed over Jeff's shoulder and he turned to see Brian jogging towards him, "You know if you're not careful I'm going to have to give you a raise after this weekend."

"Promises, promises" his personal assistant said with a deadpan expression, "if I want a raise I'll ask Ms. Saotome. I'm going to go find the floor manager before he finds us."

"You do that," Jeff said as she turned to go, then under his breath he added, "and look for your personality while you're at it." He turned around just as Brian reached him, "You know I just love that girl."

Brian smiled, "We all do boss, she's amazing."

"So," Jeff said, clearing away the cobwebs and getting down to business, "how're things going backstage?"

"Pretty much all set," said the stocky southerner from North Carolina, "We had a go of it getting that load of concrete blocks moved from one stage door to the other, but the ESPN crew let us borrow their forklift."

"Oh, that was nice of them," Jeff did a double take, "did you say ESPN? The sports channel ESPN?"

"Uh... yeah, they pulled in with a tractor trailer about half an hour ago, really ticked off the floor manager too. Their truck takes up almost half the curb space he had set aside for the media."

Jeff looked over his shoulder in the direction where Kelley had just disappeared, "How does that girl know these things?" he mumbled, "Well, keep up the good work Brian. Let me know if there's anything you need."

"Right boss!" Brian said as he jogged off towards the stage.

Jeff smiled to himself, "The sports channel brought the big truck, eh? God, I love it when a plan comes together!"

Ten minutes later Jeff had linked up with Kelley, the floor manager and the producer from ESPN. It didn't take much to convince the producer to record the whole sixty-minute program tonight in exchange for letting them keep their truck just outside the door. It meant they would have to limit the number of local stations that could do live feeds to just three, but the producer assured them most stations were just looking for footage to use on the eleven o'clock news.

With the sports channel producer heading off to set up additional cameras and the floor manager placated for the time being, Jeff and Kelley took a few minutes to compare notes.

"We need to make allowances for any newspaper reporters that show up," Jeff said, "They're going to want to be closer to the action then the press bridge at the back of the room."

Kelley nodded, but didn't write anything on the notepad she always carried. "She never writes anything on that pad," Jeff thought, "but then again she never forgets anything either."

"There are probably going to be lots of requests for interviews, but we want to be selective with them. Ranko's English gets worse the more tired she gets and I don't want to saddle Debra with being her interpreter no matter how much she insists on it," Jeff looked around as if noticing for the first time that the redhead and blonde weren't there, "Where are those two anyway? Didn't you tell me they left the hotel before we did?"

"Shopping," Kelley said, "at Saks."

"Shopping?" Jeff looked incredulous, "Why are they out shopping at a time like this?"

"Because some fool told them to get dressed up only three hours before all the stores close on a Sunday afternoon." Kelley whacked him on the chest with her notepad.

"And that's a problem?" Jeff grinned at her.

"Yes, that's a problem!" Kelley's Irish was starting to show, "Neither one of them brought anything formal to wear. Do you think a woman can just walk into a department store and put on the first dress she sees?"

"I'm guessing the answer to that is... no?"

"Damn right it's no! You'll be lucky to see those two before the houselights go down and it would serve you right too," Kelley turned in a huff and stalked off in search someone else in need of her attention.

"That's just what I always wanted in an assistant," Jeff said to himself while watching her storm off, "quiet, demure and venomous."

Meanwhile, on the second floor of Saks Fifth Avenue store Debra Suzuki was about to admit defeat. The shopping assistant they had been assigned was showing her yet another tiny gown, which wasn't at all suitable for Ranma to wear, "It looks... it looks like a prom dress."

"Well..." the young woman said timidly, "that's because it is a prom dress. Your daughter is very hard to fit, she's so tiny and yet so... you know, busty."

"She's not my daughter," Debra sighed, "and I understand the difficulty, but you can't tell me that somewhere on four floors of designer women's wear there isn't one single gown that will fit a Japanese woman with large breasts."

"No ma'am," the girl said dejectedly, "I'll go have another look in the juniors department."

Debra sighed. This was exasperating. They had been at it for over an hour now and had nothing to show for all the effort. Of course Ranma was no help at all, the martial artist turned celebrity was showing off her typically male lack of interest in clothes shopping.

It was as bad as shopping with her husband, except Kozuma would usually find himself a quiet place to sit down and watch sports wrap-ups on his cell phone. Ranma on the other hand was in a constant state of motion. The last time she needed the redhead for a fitting she found her in men's casual wear on the sixth floor looking at golf shirts.

Debra was just contemplating the possibilities of committing seppuku with a coat hanger when Ranma stuck her head into the dressing room, "Hey Debora-san," she said in Japanese, "come take a look at something I just found."

"Ranma, I told you we don't have time to look at baby clothes or toys."

"No, no. This is for us... to wear tonight."

Debra cocked her head skeptically, "You... found a dress?"

"Two of them!" Ranma declared with a big grin, "One for each of us."

Debra suppressed another sigh as she stood up, "I might as well humor the boss," she thought. They met up with the shopping assistant on the way out and Debra only needed one glimpse of shiny pink fabric to say, "Not a snowball's chance! Follow us."

Ranma led them up the escalator to the third floor, walking right past Calvin Kline and DKNY to the back of the store. She stopped and gestured dramatically, "What you think?"

Debra smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand, but the impact didn't change the absurdity of the scene before her. "Ranma, this is the bridal department. We can't wear wedding gowns!"

"Not white ones," Ranma said looking a little hurt, "Chinese ones!" she pointed to the side of the room filled with bride's maids' gowns. Standing just inside the archway were two bald faceless manikins dressed in Chinese inspired silk cocktail gowns. One manikin was shorter than the other and had a remarkably full bosom for something that was supposed to represent a teenager.

"Oh my God," cried out the shopping assistant, "I forgot all about the new Vera Wang collection. We have these in rack sizes all the way down to junior petite!"

As the shopping girl ran off to look for the right sizes, Debra regarded her boss with amazement, "How long did you say you've been stuck in that female body?"

"Eight month... why?"

"Because I think some of the girl stuff is beginning to sink in. I'm going to consult you the next time I need a great dress in a hurry."

Ranma chuckled, "Beginner luck."

"Whatever it is, this'll work out great. Assuming she can find ones to fit us both, we still have time for hair and makeup before they lock the doors on us."

Ranma's face fell, "What mean hair and... m-makeup?"

o o o

A small crowd gathered in the middle of the empty Roseland Ballroom, they only looked small because the room around them was so huge. Everyone from the conference was there, everyone that is except the two people who were responsible for turning tonight's demo into such a media circus to begin with.

With half an hour left before the doors opened to the public, everything was ready with one exception and that was being hoisted above the stage as they all watched.

"I can't believe our luck, Jeff," Brian was saying, "There are only a dozen of these things in the country and this one was just delivered to the guy on Friday. They hadn't even uncrated it yet."

"So how did we get it?"

"Pure luck really. We couldn't find anyone to make us a larger banner than the one we were going to use downstairs and then this guy calls up out of the blue. Says he owns a company that outfits concert tours and wants to know if we need anything. See, his son's a student at the Meadowlands dojo and they're big fans of Ranma and Ranko. One thing leads to another and I tell him about the banner problem. That's when he tells me about this thing."

"And what exactly is this again, some kind of video projection screen?"

"Not really, it works more like those signs out on the highway with the little dots that flip over to form the words. It's the same technology they use to make electronic books, but this thing is forty feet wide and thirty feet tall. It's just a black curtain until you plug in a computer image."

Up on the stage a man with a young boy at his side turned and shouted down to them, "We're ready up here!"

Brian turned to Kelley and said, "Okay, just start the program and drag in whatever graphic file you want displayed."

Kelley fiddled with the tablet computer she was holding and then the crowd all gasped in unison. At the back of the stage a gigantic billboard of the full-color flying kick Anything Goes logo featuring Ranko had just magically appeared.

Jeff shook his head in astonishment, "That's freaking amazing Brian. Not that I really care after seeing that, but what's this thing costing us?"

"Just a meet and greet with Ranko. I promised him some autographed pictures too."

"Get him and his kid shirts, the really nice embroidered ones, and make sure they have VIP spots up next to the stage," Jeff turned and slapped Brian on the back, "Freakin' amazing, man!"

He stepped over to Kelley and said quietly, "Have some fun with that thing and then take a break for the rest of the night, okay?" She gave him a 'Do I gotta?' look and then nodded. "Good girl. Now there's just one thing missing..."

"Jeffu! Prepare to die!"

Jeff froze at the sound of the high-pitched soprano voice. He had heard too many stories about the Nerima Wrecking Crew and the origins of that challenge to take it lightly. With his guard on high alert, he turned slowly to face his opponent. Then his eyes popped out of their sockets and his jaw nearly hit the floor.

Debra stood to one side, dressed in a slinky black evening gown with a high Chinese collar and practically no back all the way down to her waist. Her hair was pulled up into a bun with black lacquered chopsticks sticking out of one side. Her makeup had been done specifically to make her look more Oriental with high cheekbones and elongated eyes. She looked for all the world like the villain in an old Indiana Jones type movie.

Beside her and looking none too happy was a woman Jeff barely recognized. Wearing virtually the same dress as Debra except that it was blood red, Ranma was actually wearing high heels. Her hair had been done in odango style with two dumpling shaped buns on either side from which long strands of red hair flowed. Combined with her current scowl of displeasure she looked like a malevolent Japanese-Irish version of Sailor Moon.

What was most striking to Jeff was the fact that Ranma was wearing makeup and the effect was dazzling. He had always considered his friend's feminine beauty a sinister aspect of the curse, but to see it now in all its glory was to understand the magnificence of womanhood. And all he could think to say was "Wow!"

"No wow me, this your fault!" Ranma fumed, "Akane try ten year make me wear lipstick, now stuff not come off!"

"It's lip tint," Debra said as gently as she could without laughing, "It comes off with makeup remover. Ranma, are you sure you're feeling okay? You weren't nearly this worked up in the limo."

"I'm fine!" Ranma shouted in Japanese, then she looked at Debra and her shoulders slumped, "No I'm not... Aw, damn it!" then she began to cry.

Debra turned to Kelley, "Where's the ladies' room?"

"I'll take her Ms. Suzuki," Kelley said as she walked over and took Ranma's arm, "This way Saotome-sama."

When they had disappeared behind the stage Jeff approached Debra, "How'd you do it? The greatest minds in the world have been trying to get that boy in a dress for years and you get him in high heels and makeup to boot!"

"It wasn't me Jeff," Debra said with an evil grin, "It was Rene."

"Who's Rene? Some dominatrix girlfriend of yours?"

"No," Debra laughed, "just the stylist at Saks and he's definitely not a girl. Just a six foot three gay black man with a shaved head, earrings and a rainbow colored tube top. I don't think Ranma has ever met up with that slice of American culture before and she was terrified of him. Did everything he told her to without so much as a peep."

"And you enjoyed every minute," Jeff said with a grin, "didn't you?"

Debra just smiled, crossed her arms and headed off in the direction Kelley had taken Ranma. Jeff watched her walk away with growing appreciation of her obvious and ample talents. "Those outfits were definitely designed to look better from behind."

o o o

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Anything Goes Martial Arts!" Jeff stood at the center of the stage and gazed out at the packed house. "Before we show you what our form of martial arts is all about, we have a quick presentation to make. Please help me welcome from the office of the Mayor of New York City, Ms. Abby Hemming, from the Lower East Village Development Association, Mr. Ken Suzuhara, and from the New York Police Department, Captain Mike Kessel," There was a nice round of applause from the audience as the three walked on stage.

"Now please say hello to Vice President of Operations for the Southwestern United States, Ms. Debra Suzuki!" At first there was only a spattering of applause from people who thought they recognized the name, but the moment Debra stepped out into the stage lights the room went nuts. She hesitated for a moment then waved to the crowd and walked timidly to the front of the stage. Finally at her urging the crowd settled down.

"I would now like to introduce to you," Jeff started the introduction slowly and built up speed as he went along, "the person responsible for us being here tonight. Not only is she one the of the world's greatest martial artists. Not only is she the person who brought this ancient and mystical Art to our shores. Not only is she a natural beauty and a wonder to behold. She's also my boss. Let's give it up for Ranko Saotome!"

Ranma bounded into view to thunderous applause, but the moment she reached the front of the stage it died away as the audience finally got their first good look at the little Japanese woman who had been the talk of the news programs all day. Looking puzzled Ranma continued to wave to the crowd even as the silence grew. Then someone made a loud wolf whistle that pretty well summed up the thoughts of every man in the room and it was quickly followed by more whistles, hoots and cheers as the applause returned even louder.

They made quick work of the presentations in which Ranma and Debra were awarded a commemorative plaque and the day was declared Anything Goes Martial Arts Day in the city. The police Captain made them honorary police officers complete with badges and a certificate. Then the man from the development association gave them the key to Little Tokyo. After a round of photographs the stage was cleared and the forty or so participants lined up to do katas.

First everyone did a warm up kata. Then the younger students sat at the edge of the stage while the more advanced students did ever more complex ones, those involving aerial forms had the audience oohing and aahing.

Then the stage was cleared and the instructors came out to demonstrate various techniques such as throws, blocks, feints and attacks using students as opponents. A weapons segment followed where the instructors disarmed multiple attackers wielding all sorts of ancient and modern weapons. Finally a display of aerial combat between two of the instructors was performed that seemed to defy gravity over and over again.

Jeff took the stage to introduce Russell. The young man looked decidedly uncomfortable when his championship title was announced and he glanced offstage to gauge Ranma's temper, but her expression was unreadable. He performed his own extremely difficult kata and then spared with three other instructors at once.

Finally a string of gi-clad students marched out on stage carrying large flat concrete blocks. They stacked them just to the left of center stage on top of frame that left about six inches of empty space below the stack. The current world record was twenty blocks, but Russell was only going to break eighteen tonight as a demonstration.

Russell took a stance behind the stack facing the crowd and after a few false starts to get himself warmed up and properly aligned he smashed his elbow into the stack and it split down the middle, crumbling and falling in on itself. The audience roared its approval and Russell took a quick, but reserved bow.

Then he stared bewildered as a line of students marched onto the stage carrying more concrete blocks. They began building another stack right at the center stage. He looked around offstage for some explanation, but everyone seemed to be as clueless about this unscheduled development as he was. When the stack was as tall as the one he had broken, four more students appeared to raise the total number of blocks to twenty-two.

Just when Russell was beginning to think this was someone's idea of a joke, Ranma and Debra stepped out onto the stage. They walked up to the new stack of blocks waving and smiling to the audience and Russell began to inch his way off the stage.

"Ruseru-san," Ranma hissed at him through her big stage smile, "no leave yet. Come here!"

Russell stopped in his tracks and then edged closer to the two beautiful women at center stage. He tried to stand behind and a little away from them, but Ranma leaned over and dragged him by the cuff of his gi to stand right beside her. Then she held up her hands to silence the audience.

She positioned Russell and Debra on either side of the stack of blocks and told them, "Not move whatever happen." Then Ranma looked over her shoulder and waved two very young students out onto the stage. One was carrying a glass full of water and the other a white silk scarf. She bowed to the youngsters and took the items from them.

"Ruseru-san, hold out hand palm up." she commanded and when he did she set the glass of water on it, "No spill water, whatever happen. Now, put other hand here." She pointed to a spot at the edge of the top block and he laid his other hand there, "Very important, never move hand from block until I say." Russell had no idea what she was planning to do, but he nervously nodded agreement.

"Master of Art know more than student, more than instructor. Art is more than kata and technique. Art is also power."

Ranma draped the scarf over the top of the blocks and placed her own hand palm down on top of it. Russell stared at her hand, was she really planning to break the world record by two blocks? He looked up and she locked her gaze on him, suddenly he saw that same look in her eyes as the day before and she seemed to somehow grow taller. What was she doing? The room seemed to suddenly grow cold around him as fear crept into his mind.

He realized that he was holding his breath and when he let it out it fogged in the air before his eyes. He heard a crackling noise and when he looked at the glass in his hand it was quickly frosting over and a spider web of ice crystals raced across the water's surface. He heard the sound of wind circling above his head, but didn't dare look up at it. His hands began to tremble from the cold and he almost jerked his hand away from the blocks, but panic suddenly gripped him and he was paralyzed, unable to move.

The sound of the swirling winds grew louder and the people in the front rows of the audience began to back away from the stage, unsure just what was happening. Then suddenly Ranma's shoulder twitched slightly, there was a single shrill bang and silence descended over the hall.

Russell stared at the stack of blocks, expecting it to crumble from the force of whatever blast Ranko had unleashed upon it, but it appeared undamaged. Ranma lifted her hand and the delicate silk scarf didn't have a mark on it. Russell was completely bewildered about what just happened.

Ranma smiled first at Russell and then at the audience. She reached over and took the glass from Russell's hand and turned it upside down, letting a solid lump of ice shaped like the inside of the glass clatter across the stage. Then she grabbed Russell's hand from the blocks and held it up so the crowd could see it was unharmed. The audience applauded with some reservation, not really sure what was going on.

Ranma leaned close to Russell's ear and whispered quickly, "In one year I return. Test you again. Same rule, but no game this time, I not hold back. You touch once, I make you first Master of Art in America. You lose, you study my dojo Tokyo until truly become master."

Russell turned and stared at her in shock and disbelief, but the look in her eyes told him she was deadly serious. He was completely overwhelmed by her presence and he nodded his agreement almost mechanically.

"Good," she said tersely, "Train very hard, study very hard, and one more thing..." With a flourish she grabbed the edge of the scarf and whipped it away revealing a three-inch wide circular hole drilled cleanly through the entire stack of concrete blocks. As she stepped past the flabbergasted young man she whispered, "you learn Japanese."

x x x

All characters in this story are a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead is purely coincidental.

This work is copyright (c) 2006 by Juliet Carnell, it is not public domain and all rights are reserved. This work is not for publication. This work may not be reproduced, distributed or sold in any format or media. This work may not be included in any collection without the express written permission of the author. The reader may make one printed or electronic copy of this work for personal use.

Author's Notes:

(1) taiyaki - a fish shaped waffle like pie filled with sweet bean paste or custard.

(2) kempo - general term for Japanese style martial arts.

(3) seppuku - the ritual of committing honorable suicide by disembowelment.

(4) odango - the word means 'dumpling', but is often used to describe a hairstyle characterized by small nearly-spherical shaped hair buns.

(5) kata - this is an established pattern of martial arts moves used either for practice, exhibition or to warm up before a match.