An unusual disclaimer: Ranma ½ is a trademark of Rumiko Takahashi and VIZ Communications, and its characters have been borrowed without permission. And Son Turned Daughter was originally written way back in 2002 by the FanFiction author Tangent, and his characters Megumi, Yasushi and Ayane have, likewise, been borrowed without permission. Please see the first two chapters of this story under his pen name. This story is written for non-commercial purposes only.
[][][] [][][] [][][]
The redhead's voice wasn't bad, not good, but not bad for somebody who had never even tried to sing before. Yoshimura-san, the manga writer, had told her that with a little training she could be good enough to sing professionally. And, then, she included the others, as well. Professional broadcaster Mr. Toru had agreed, saying that their personalities combined to give them a sound all their own, especially Akane as a "Princess" and Ranma as a "Wild Child".
"Hear, that, Ranko?" Akiko said as they went to change back into their own clothes after the fun. She was happier than she should be, the other girls had thought, as she had had musical training.
But Megumi understood and liked her motivation to encourage the dojo daughters. "You and Akane can be the lead vocals. Every group has a singer or two who take center stage."
"Ran(Wild)-ko(Child) would be a great stage name!" Ikuko laughed.
"Really?! It did sound like they thought we could be stars," said Akane with stars in her eyes. It could be a way for her to become a real actress! At least a voice actress, a seiyu!
"Naw! The only trainin' I'm interested in is martial arts," Ranma said, about to lace her fingers behind her head only notice that her nipples were ready to pop out of the costume. Not that she really cared, but others seemed to. Especially - frown - guys.
"You could do both!"
"The Kuonji Second-Branch School does both Restaurant Cooking and Martial Arts Takeout," Ikuko bragged.
"Think of it as advertisement for your dojo!" Megumi said.
"The Kuonji clan does that," she continued her bragging on her family, again. "It also warns the customers to keep out of trouble in our restaurants and the First-Branch's vendors carts."
"I like that! That's just what I needed to hear!" Akane's smile had grown bigger. One of the things that had kept her from pursuing an acting career seriously was, "They say you shouldn't let your fans get too close. When they know you're a serious martial artist, they won't want to." The smile became bigger still, "And I wouldn't need bodyguards! I can live more of a normal life when I'm not working!" And that was another of those things.
" "When?", "can"?" Ranma raised an eyebrow. Getting back into her lingerie had her feeling better than she had in that silly - not stupid - outfit she had to wear because of her friends had dared themselves to be silly together. "Okay, Akane, I'll be your biggest fan. And I won't be close to you."
"What!? That doesn't sound like what a friend should say!" Ranma's so clueless!
"Who don't know how to be a friend?" Akane's so clueless! "I don't want to be famous." And she pulled the drawstring of her panty shorts tight. "And you know why!"
Megumi and Akiko were not about to give up. "How many days have you been in town?" , "You're already famous in Nerima!" , "And you're becoming famous in Shibuya!" , "It's like you're destined to be famous!"
"You mean cursed," she frowned, yanking the chemise tanktop down. Her boobs just wouldn't flatten.
Akane saw how troubled Ranma looked and realized who didn't know how to be a friend. Her. "I won't become famous if you don't, Ranma."
Megumi and Akiki did not like hearing that. If she and Ranma didn't become famous, they probably wouldn't either.
"But, they're right. Your reputation is growing. And I don't know what to do about it, either." She ran her hand through her hair. A solution had to be found! And the only ones who had given her solutions before were, "Kasumi or Dr. Tofu might know!" Her hand came out of her hair. "Right now, there's nothing we can do about it. Let's go have dinner and wind this date down!"
"I'm for that!" Ranma said, pulling up her skirt pants.
[][][]
Before they left, though, they made sure they had a chance to thank Dr. Tofu's brother.
He was on his phone. He smiled at them and gestured for them to wait until the call was over. "...Yes? There is one? You'll give it permission to make the detour? That's wonderful! Yes, I know, I owe you a favor. But I'm paying off one of the many I owe to my brother."
"Then the news is affirmative?" Kuno asked.
"Please, say it isn't," Hiroshi begged.
Mr. Toru smiled for Kuno, and shook his head at Hiroshi. Then he turned to the girls. "Kuno-sama…" ("-sama!?") "...has told me of the dinner reservation that's been made. I have arranged the quickest way for you young adults to get there."
[][][]
They finally had to put tape over Hiroshi's mouth. Megumi's lipstick was on the tape. At least he got his mercy kiss.
It reminded Juliet she still owed Kuno a kiss (and maybe more than that after the way he'd been spending money on them for this date). And that reminded Ranma that she had - just a couple of hours ago - kissed that overly handsome, dyed-blonde, womanizer, Mikado! Grr!
"Are his hands tied?" Ranma yelled above the din of the helicopter.
"Tired!" Ikuko yelled back.
The man standing beside the open door of the utility copter yelled, "I'm asking you again! Are you sure about this?!"
"And I'm tellin' you again-" But rather than continue the argument, the little redhead jumped out of the noisy chopper.
Hiroshi continued to argue as loudly his taped mouth allowed as he fell harnessed to the back of the pigtailed girl! He was too terrified to enjoy the physical contact of her. In the one story, he nearly passed out.
He did when the redhead landed in her platform shoes.
Ranma didn't know what the kind of harness professional parachutists used to give rank amateurs a thrill was doing in a helicopter, and she really didn't care. Without it, that coward would have remained on board all the way to Chiba across Tokyo Bay. She had had to toss "her date" aboard the copter as it was.
She was just about to unbuckle the harness, when her trained senses gave her a warning! She jumped! She meant to go only yards, meters, but the blasts from the chopper carried her and Hiroshi further! She was able to get a solid footing again only yards, meters, from the edge of the skyscraper. Even she did not have the ability to survive that fall.
When she turned around, she saw Kuno facedown on the helipad. The idiot had insisted on showing her, and everybody else, that he could do what she had just done. She didn't really care. She was almost certain his healing techniques would have him up and walking - and talking - soon.
She looked above and saw Akane (forgetting what the gale was doing to her skirt) holding on very tightly to the sides of the sling that the winch operator by the door was lowering her in. Ranma hurried over to help her, then the other two born-girls, and keep her, safely down. The winch operator had been right, this hadn't been such a great idea. Curse herself for bragging to that manga writer that she was a great martial artist and could do any stunt. That had made Kuno and the others want to get into the act! After all, they were martial artists, too! Mr. Toru should probably not arranged this. His brother, Dr. Tofu, would probably not approve of this "favor".
Was Mr. Toru approving of things like this the reason the brothers hadn't talked much in years?
Well, everybody was safely down. And even Hiroshi was coming around. It was time to get him off her back. He was beginning to be a load for this little, 100 lb, 45 kg, body.
[][][]
At the door off the roof of the skyscraper, there was a man with a long, pencil-thin moustache and in a stiff-looking, black-tie tuxedo waiting to greet them. "Bonsoir, Messieurs and mesdemoiselles, I am Chance, your maîtr'd for ze evening. If you would follow me," and just assumed they would.
The elevator ride wasn't long. It opened up on the fanciest restaurant Ranma had ever had the misfortune to see. She knew in an instant she didn't belong here. The others felt only less overwhelmed. All but Kuno. If anything, he felt it wasn't grandiose enough for him.
It was a long walk to the window table. Theirs was a long table with none of the antique, European chairs having its back to the view. Though Hiroshi wished his were. His acrophobia wasn't helped by the 50-story, penthouse outlook. It had been a wonder he hadn't soiled himself before this. He had to leave for the la Chambre des hommes, men's room. Luckily for him, the La Belle France Cuisine de le Gourmands had an extensive wardrobe for those guests who did not meet the Dress Code of the restaurant.
Why Ranma and the born-girls were allowed to remain dressed as they were she put down to the fact that this Chance guy knew Kuno as a good customer. In other words, the place wasn't so snooty that it ignored the small fortune a frequent customer had spent in it over the years.
And looking at Hiroshi (Chance without the mustache), and other customers, she was glad she didn't have to wear what was "appropriate". They looked way too old-fashioned and uncomfortable. And not in a Japanese way.
"There are hoop skirts over there! And petticoats, " Akane cried out in as soft a voice as she could manage. "And she has to be wearing a corset."
"How can they sit in those things?!" Ranma said, not so softly. Then, "Oh, the hoops give." They still had to have something on their laps to keep them down.
"And what's with all those poufy sleeves?" Akiko asked. "Do they actually think those are stylish?"
"Their gowns have decolletages and exposed shoulders," Ikuko said. "They're not going for a Lolita look." Styles popular among some Japanese.
"I know that style," Megumi said. "They don't have the lace and frills and little ribbons that fill every inch of Lolita fashion."
"They seem to be how the upper-class society dressed in the 19th century. Even in Japan." Akane said. When they gave her the Yeah-you're-the-expert look, she told them, "I'd like to be an actress, remember? I know something about the costumes you wear for different period plays."
"Look, those people over there are wearing more modern clothes," Akiko pointed out.
"They are the ones who had arrived properly dressed," Kuno informed them. "Those in the more exotic apparel are either those who had not or the staff of the restaurant. Though the material is of a lesser quality, it is actually quite an honor, as that is how the very upper echelon of the expatriate, Exiles de la Belle France, themselves prefer to be attired. Would you ladies-in-waiting-"
"No!" all four of them said. Though Akane, the actress, was tempted.
[][][]
More than just Ranma's stomach was growling. "How long before a waiter comes?!" she complained for all of them.
"This is the finest of fine French dining venues. Every meal is prepared from, to use the prosaic term, scratch. From the cracking of the just-laid egg to the mincing of the freshest onion, every masterpiece that emerges from their haute cuisine kitchen must only commence after the patron has put in their request."
"And to be snobbish," Akane said, remembering the stage part.
Ranma's stomach made the loudest noise. She had to get something to eat - Soon! She was being forced to go deeper into the ki reservoir. And what she found in this place and these people was making it live up to the Anything-Goes term for it. She was not only feeling the Silky Darling, but she had the urge to be a silky darling!
But she argued with herself. She could handle it! She had years of practice being self-centered and anchored in who she was when she felt the vibes of others. She could ignore what others felt! She didn't have to follow the cues on how they felt she should act.
Okay, even before Jusenkyo, echoes of those feelings had managed to leak past the cracks of her defenses, whittling away at the heart. But now, with a girl brain, it had become harder! She, her, the redheaded, pigtailed girl wanted to follow the cues, do what her female friends expected of another female friend. It was an internal battle! Her defenses were trained into her! They were automatic! They were there to protect her old, male, identity. That made them now barriers to her new, female identity!
But the Silky Darling played its local siren song.
Oh, why not! She had decided to stay a girl half the time so she could learn how to surf the inner impulses and turmoils that came with a girl brain. While a girl, she was always on the surfboard and would always wipeout sooner or later until she could remain on her feet. And she, being Ranma Saotome, wouldn't be satisfied until she could hang ten! And then dance on the board!
Besides, she had the perfect justification sitting next to her! "Oh, Kuno-sweetie, this pretty beautiful and fancy-smancy restaurant is making me forget the horrid, hard life my pop made me live trying to make me a man! And not just any man!" She could almost force out a fake tear. "A man among men!"
"That beast! I had no idea pandas could be so cruel!"
Ikuko, Akiko, and Megumi looked at one another. Surely they hadn't heard that right. A panda? Hiroshi was too busy with his personal misery. He was on the other side of his redheaded date.
A trembling hand reached out for Kuno's left hand. "You are such a wonderful influence, Kuno-sweetie! The more I am with you, the more I feel like a real wom-" Nope, 'don't wanna go there! "a real girl."
Kuno looked down at the hand that, in her maidenly shyness, could not quite bring itself to touch him. His manliness was simply overwhelming her modesty!
"I do have that effect on the ladies," he said, smoothing his hair.
"Yea, yea! Thank you, again, Kuno! Thank you for this date!" And she stretched herself to kiss him on the cheek once more.
Flash!
"What?" She had been thinking she would like to have a picture of this to fling at her pop and hurt him where it hurt him the most. But who….
It was that ninja squirt, Sasuke, dressed in a purple version of Chance the maitr'd, but with more buttons, these of brass. He was holding a camera.
Then he wasn't holding a camera. Chance had taken it away. "We do not allow ze paparazzi in zis dining establishment! We are quite exclusive."
"It is quite acceptable, my man, Chance," Kuno informed him. "You know Sasuke is but my manservant. And he is under my orders to collect photographs to commemorate the occasion of my dates." Ikuko and Akiko cringed a little when he included them in his gaze. Megumi didn't.
"He has?" Ranma asked.
"How long has he been spying on us?!" Akane demanded to know. It was bad enough to have her life invaded by the camera of her own sister, Nabiki!
"My apologies, Monsieur Kuno, but it is not acceptable to ze other guests. Some can give a severe tongue lashing. Again, my apologies. But zis offensive instrument must be removed!"
"I will be able to get my camera and its film back?" Sasuke asked.
"The film shall be developed and inspected, beforehand."
Ranma's hand now was on Kuno's - both of them! "Kuno! Gimme the one where I'm kissin' you! I gotta show it to Pop!"
"Of course, my aficionada. No doubt, you wish this souvenir as evidence to this Pop of yours of your undying devotion and, so, be persuaded to appreciate yours truly, as well.
"Oh, I wanna make him appreciate, alright!" Appreciate what turning his son into his daughter was doing to them both!
"Chance! Do as the young lady-in-waiting requests from her celebrity."
"As you desire, Monsieur Kuno," the maitr'd bowed before leaving. Sasuke, in the meantime, had just disappeared.
"Ha! Pop'll get the picture, this time!" The sudden feel of Something spoiled her revenge fantasy. Kuno had just given her another gift! And unlike him butting in and spending on this date with Hiroshi, this was a gift she had freely asked for!
Trying not to growl, Ranma leaned over to Kuno, put her warm, smooth hand to his cheek (just beginning to whisker) and...turned it so she could kiss the other cheek. Now, was that good enough(!)?!
Yes. No. The feeling of Something had lessened. It recognized that this was part of her installment plan for paying back the samurai idiot. But a huge debt remained and the only way to speed up the process, it felt like, was to get it over with and actually kiss him - for REAL! Just kissing him was no longer enough - She had to mean it! She had to go full-girl!
NEVER! If she ever became a girl, it would be of her own surrender! She would not be conquered! She was the Wild Horse! Mustang, cayuse, bronco, uh, bronca! The Something couldn't conquer her! If it could, it would have brainwashed her girl brain by now!f
But there was still the Silky Darling calling out to her girl brain. She had female, girl and womanly deficiencies it was ready to fill. The more food she ate, the more she could resist and reject or accept them on her terms. Given enough time, she would - she told herself - learn techniques to go even completely hungry and yet not given in! But as long as there were born-girls nearby she liked the feel of (their ki) and didn't mind becoming like, she was in danger of being overcome! Her defenses continued to find ways to slow that process down.
[][][]
Being a simple date, Kuno had told Chance to bring the spéciale du jour in three courses, not seven courses. "We must watch our figures."
"Yeah!" Hiroshi agreed.
And after the long wait, the first course finally arrived. The entree. Soup. Bouillabaisse, of course. The cuisine was French, but the locale was the seafood nation of Japan.
"About time!" Ranma cried, picking up the fancy china bowl, ready to slurp it all down in as close to a gulp as she could.
Flash!
The bowl was empty! And her mouth was still dry!
"Hey! I thought they took that camera away from-" Twisted around in the chair, she didn't see the runt ninja, but, taller, there was a woman in a long, dark dress. At least, Ranma assumed it was a woman (she was proof you never could tell), and raised her gaze up to a severely thin face with her round glasses providing its only curves. And above - Was that hair or a roasted turkey complete with booties at the ends of its twin drumsticks?
"Zat is not ze way we Dine at La Belle France!"
"You're in Japan and that's the way we eat here!"
"Zis is an exclusive restaurant with diplomatic immunity! It is officially a part of France!"
"It is true, my spirited Ranma," Kuno told him.
"You believe that?!" Idiot!
"Ranma, don't fight it. You can have my soup," Akane pushed hers nearby. "You've been using a lot of ki, you need this more than I do."
Ranma felt sorry for her friend but knew - and more importantly, felt - she was right. She pulled the bowl of fish soup in front of her. She fought the urge to slurp it down. It was pretty easy. It was more a guy rather than a girl thing to do, even in Japan. Or at least in this place. The Silky Darling told her so. She picked up a spoon. What a waste of silver.
Flash! Just before its bottom touched the broth, the soup was instantly gone, again!
"What'd I do wrong(!)?!"
"As vulgar as it is to use tableware, it is ze height of grossièreté to use ze tablespoon with soup!"
"How'm I s'pose to know what kinda spoon is what kinda spoon(!)?! I lived my whole life before now without spoons or forks!"
"Ze patrons of establishments such as zis are expected to know."
"Do you know?" Akane asked the others. The others didn't know.
"Is this it?" Megumi held up the one that wasn't a tablespoon and was more oval.
"Oui. Ze mademoiselle has made ze correct guess." (And it had been.)
"See, Kuno? I'm a natural," Megumi said. "I belong in places like this."
The others picked up their soup spoons.
Then Ranma. "Can I have more soup?"
"Non! Impossible! Only one course per patron is allowed here! It would mean the chef would have to dispose of all that he has prepared for your entire meal and commence once more from entree to fromage!"
"That's unfair!"
"Those are the rules of la Belle France!"
"Madame St. Paul," Kuno said, "I am sure that you can make an exception for-"
Flash! And he had no soup in his bowl, either.
"No, you are correct, Madame St. Paul. Accept my apology."
"Wow, did you hear how fast Kuno crumbled?" Akiko whispered to Ikuko.
"She must really be a big shot for- What the!"
Ranma had suddenly scrambled on top of the table with her platform shoes and was holding their bowls high and away from this Madame St. Paul! "You leave their soup out of this! This is between you and me!"
"Shoes on the table!? That alone is barbaric, but to be standing in them - beyond barbarity!"
"Do barbarians wear shoes?" Hiroshi asked.
Flash!
"Hey! Now my soup is gone!"
"That's it, Old Woman!"
"Old Woman!?" she cried out at the insult.
"Yeah! "Old Woman" 'cuz you remind me of my "Old Man"! He steals food, too! I challenge you!"
"No, my perfect in visage, Venus! I implore you not to engage in this battle!" Kuno had grabbed her by her ankles.
"Ze challenge has been made and cannot be withdrawn without the consent of ze person challenged. And zis I will not! And as ze one challenged in zis duel, it is I who may choose ze terms! And I choose-"
Kuno was on his feet, ready to interfere. Forgetting to let go of an ankle. "No, Madame St-"
Flash! Flash! Flash! His head was whipped this way and that.
And when it was over, his face was covered with welts.
"I deserved that tongue lashing," the once proud samurai said as he slumped to the floor, defeated.
"Man! I never thought I'd see Kuno like that," Ranma said. She had been able to stand on one foot on the table without losing one drop of the soups.
"Me, neither," Akane said. "It almost makes him...human."
"Monsieur Kuno is, indeed, quite human," Madame St. Paul informed them. "He is supremely human in his needs. His appetite has been so refined and purified that none but la haute cuisine par excellence of ze Chardin franchises could possibly satisfy it."
"It is, unfortunately, true," Kuno hung his head. "Once you have tasted pate de foie gras, you can never return to fugu."
"He's like an addict," Akane said, changing her opinion of him once more.
Madame St. Paul turned once more to the red-haired, déclasse girl. Becoming yet even more dignified and rigid, she said, "I, Madame St. Paul, accept your challenge under the Rules of ze Martial Art of ze Fine Dining."
"Martial art of whatsis?" Ranma said. First Martial Arts Figure Skating, and now -No! Before that, at school, during the War of the Sexes, she had come across dozens of examples of anything-goes fighting her Old Man sensei had managed to ignore or be ignorant of! And before even that - not counting the sports-as-martial-arts hentai horde because, in the end, she did not consider them really original - before even that, there was what she had seen Dr. Tofu use on her Old Man, and win! Ever since she came to Nerima - Ever since Jusenkyo, in fact(!), but more in this town than anywhere else - she had come across more examples of the diversity of martial arts than she had in the entire ten years of her life of training to inherit the Anything-Goes School! The Cursed Training Ground just May be-
"Did you say this is an eatin' contest(!)?!" she hoped! All other thoughts were forgotten.
"Ze Martial Art of ze Fine Dining is not about anything as vulgar as eating. It is about removing the vulgarities of ze necessities of life and replacing them with ze elegance of etiquette! Only ze most crème de crème of society is capable of achieving its pinnacle."
"Okay…. Is this an eatin' contest or not?"
"There is commestibles involved. Only the freshest and most-" Kuno was quieted by the baguette Akane had stuffed in his mouth.
"Yes, Ranma. There'll be food."
"Yippee! Then let the contest begin!" she cried, jumping down from on top of the table, still holding the two soup bowls.
Flash! Flash! And the bowls were empty.
"You were about to spill the bouillabaisse on the Aubusson carpet."
"That's great for Ranma, but are we going to get something to eat?" Akiko asked.
[][][]
Ranma was in a dressing room off of the toilettes des femmes and in just her panty shorts.
"Why do I gotta dress in the same kind of stupid clothes as those other stupid-lookin' people are wearin' out there(!)?!" And, looking at Madame St. Paul, in here.
"Because it is part of ze Rules of ze Martial Art of ze Fine Dining, of course, you coarse, peasant girl."
"Gee, thanks. First Kodachi, now you."
"You will lose the challenge unless you agree to ze Rules. You, obviously, are incapable of being elegant but you shall, at least, look the role. I refuse to engage in battle with someone who will not at least maintain appearances."
"Oh, I get it. It's not how you feel, but how you look." and she looked what the chambermaids had selected for her to wear. "I don't think I'm gonna feel or look marvelous." As they encased her in a steel, hourglass segment of armor, she knew she wouldn't.
"Hold onto that barre in front of the mirror." This was the second time that day Ranma had stood in front of a "ballerina", room-length mirror with a railing. Suddenly that silly "mahou shoujo" costume didn't seem bad. This one screamed bad!
Madame St. Paul put her knee against Ranma's tailbone and pushed as she pulled at the chain ties that closed the armor tighter and tighter around her figure. "Too tight!"
"That is ze point of ze corset, stupide, uneducated girl! Ze men could never achieve ze constriction of ze female corset! It is ze very emblem of femininity."
"Yeah, like you got femininity!" Ranma knew femininity. She was surrounded by it, not just with her friends, but at school and at the Tendos. They had the femininity her girl brain was attracted to. But This woman had nothing she could, would, or should accept from her ki reservoir. There was nothing Silky Darling about her!
And that welding mask didn't help.
-Welding mask!?
[][][]
A squadron of chambermaids passed the redhead as left the petites filles' chamber. They had brooms, mops, hammers, and dremels. The dressing room had been soundproof.
But ahead of her, Madame St. Paul still had the key to the iron corset. At least she hadn't been welded or riveted inside the freaking iron corset! Just locked in.
Ranma reentered the main salon of the restaurant wearing a hoop frame beneath petticoats and pink, silk dress with large bows going around it at mid-shin level. And she had short but puffy sleeves. Her neckline reminded her of the French maid uniform. (What was with the French showing the tops of their boobs!? This St. Paul didn't! Though, remembering her trip to the women's side of the public bath, there were probably two saggy good reasons the Old Woman didn't.)
And then there was the corsage of red roses with thorns.
Akane and her other girl friends came over and tried to make her feel better. "This dress is just the kind of period piece costume I was telling you about earlier! It's very authentic." , "Feel it! It's organy, isn't it?" , "Style comes and goes. This one could make a comeback because of you, Ranma!" , "Eh! If there can be Lolita Goth, why not."
Ranma pulled up so they (and other patrons) could see not only her petticoats, the hoops, the pantaloons, but also that, "They made me wear these high heels."
"Uh…." Ikuko looked at Aiko. "Uh…." Who looked at Akane. "Wow. Talk about authentic."
"There're point-toe shoes and then there are those," Megumi crinkled her nose.
[][][]
Most of the patrons of the restaurant were now gathered around the Madame St. Paul and the pigtailed, red-haired mademoiselle.
A small table had been placed in the center of the restaurant and was set with the plat principal, the main course. La spéciale du jour was poulet Marengo (chicken, eggs, and crayfish sauteed in olive oil, garlic, and tomatoes), lemony roasted potatoes and carrots, and buttery cauliflower puree. To hungry Ranma, this all looked...stupid. Her life on the road had taught her to stomach anything and everything edible, spurred on not just by her hunger but by her need to control the ki reserve. Eating this would be no problem. But it made as much sense to her as having to eat with a fork and spoon.
And thinking of them, "Where are the spoon and fork you say I gotta use?"
Highly indignant, Madame St. Paul answered, "In ze Martial Art of ze Fine Dining, we do not use anything as vulgar as utensils. Those are for ze nouveau Riche suivant our class."
"I think she said they're for those who became rich after her ancestors became rich," Akane said.
"Correct. We are the legitimate heirs of the French Revolution. All else are upstarts."
"Wow. Talk about twisted snobbery," Akiko said.
"You mean think they're the 'nobility' that came after the executed nobility which makes them better than the 'nobility' that came after them?" Megumi asked. She looked at Kuno. He was authentic Japanese nobility, and, yet, he thought of these people as genuine French nobles. Oh, well. He was an idiot, but he was a handsome and rich idiot.
Kuno may have actually understood what people were thinking, for he explained, "After the Revolution, the chefs of the nobility were bereft of patrons on which to practice their art. It was they who originated the very first restaurants. They brought elite eating to the great unwashed! So, they are indeed the true and rightful successors of the French line of succession as well as Exemplars of the democracy of the Revolution!" Yep, perfect Kuno logic.
Ranma was not impressed. "I don't know when this French Revolution was, but the oldest eatin' place in China that never went out of business began in 1153. I been there."
"Ah, but it is Chinese. Like to the designations of their wines, only the French have the legitimate claim to the designation restaurant, a French word." Don't try to be logical with a Kuno.
And Ranma decided not to try. "Okay, St. Paul, what are the rules to this martial art of yours?!" She needed to get its game sense to adapt her abilities around it.
"They are quite simple. It is the technique that is difficult - Non, close to impossible!"
"Really? Now I really am interested!" she said with a gleam in her blue eyes. "If there's one thing I'm best at is learnin' impossible techniques!" All her trained sense were on alert, ready to mirror what her opponent did and return it better! There were no actions she could not duplicate!
"Then, this is how we know the winner: There is only one serving on ze table. Ze first one to consume ze serving wins ze challenge."
" ' sounds simple enough. And perfect for my eatin' abilities," Ranma smirked.
"Zis is not about Eating!" she had finally lost her patience and was raising her voice. "Ze Martial Art of ze Fine Dining is about ze elegance of proper etiquette! What separates it from ze vulgar animal needs and enshrines it as an Art is this: None may see your mouth open."
"What!? Nobody's s'pose to see me open my mouth?"
"Observe my mouth. Chance."
"Oui, Madame St. Paul," said the maitr'd. And he began tossing hors d'oeuvre after hors d'oeuvre at his superior.
They all disappeared an inch from her face! And her mouth remained a thin line.
"Bon! Merce, Chance. A proper meal may begin with either ze hors d'oeuvre or ze entree. I can now begin ze repas de compétition."
Ranma blinked. Before she realized, "Hey! What about me! I didn't get any and I didn't get any soup, too!"
"You have demonstrated you are more than just a mere vulgarian. What does a barbarian gamin need with observing the proper courses of dining?"
"Madame," Kuno interjected. "Perhaps as a practice?"
The Madame looked stern and unbending. But she, at last, said, "Chance."
"Oui, Madame St. Paul."
Crab Toast, Smoked Trout Blinis, Grape Focaccia. They were all caught by Ranma and stuffed into her wide-open mouth! But those were all.
Flash! Flash! Flash!
"Wha!? How?!" Ranma was standing at the other side of the table, a yard, a meter, away from the woman, and yet she managed to take all her food away! She was better at it than her pop!
"Are you prepared to concede?" the Madame asked.
"Never! Bring it on!"
"Zen Chance will act as ze referee. Chance?"
"Oui. Ze barbarian with ze rouge hair loses."
"WHAT!? Unfair! Unfair!" Ranma was about to go into a tantrum. "Those finger foods were just for warmup!"
"Zat is not ze reason you have lost. You did not observe ze proper etiquette of duels. What is ze name of your opponent?"
"St. Paul! Okay - Madame St. Paul! There I said it proper like!"
"And what is your name?"
Ranma's fists banged on the edge of the table as she almost fell to her knees. "You're right. I shoulda introduced myself." She, then, looked up at the man in a glare. "But that's a lousy way to win a challenge! If I do the formalities...the etiquette, can I compete?"
"Oui. I will allow," Madame St. Paul relented. But only because she knew the girl was severely outmatched. And she would not let this gamin be anonymous in her ignominious defeat. How more humiliating that all should know her identity.
The redhead drew herself up, standing with as much poise as she could. She bowed Japanese-style. Then, surprising herself, she curtsied. Using her best girl Japanese, she said, "My name is Ranma Saotome of the Anything-Goes School of Martial Arts."
Chance started. He went to Madame St. Paul and whispered something in her ear.
She, too, started. She silently challenged him. He silently answered by pulling a folded piece of paper from the inside pocket of his jacket. The largest of the elegantly calligraphed words read, candidats potentiels. She nodded
Chance, at last, spoke to Ranma. "Do you know a Genma Saotome?"
Ranma scowled. It wasn't something she was proud to admit, but, "He's my pop. Father."
"The contest is postponed!" Madame St. Paul announced.
"What(!)?!"
"Why, Madame St. Paul?" Kuno asked.
"I shall not allow ze public humiliation of ze fiancée of Monsieur Picolet Chardin III." And her glasses gleamed as she fixed a wicked stare on the bride candidate, "Yet."
