Dark Titans – Arc 2 - Big Trouble in Little Tokyo
Chapter One
Enjoy if you will, tolerate if you won't.
The carefully creased sheets of paper fluttered gently in his hand, playthings for the wind. He stared at the three pieces of paper, which had come into his possession only an hour before and marveled at the exquisite penmanship that had covered their surfaces with midnight black ink.
Yes, Ranma thought to himself as he lounged on the back porch, making new friends was nice indeed. That said – um, thought - he eagerly read over the letter that Raven had sent him for the third time. He smiled happily at the very first string of words that she had written.
"Dear Ranma, I hope this letter finds you in good health and good spirits," he read the words quietly to himself, savoring every single one. He nearly wiped a tear from his eye; that had to have been the nicest thing that anyone had ever said to him . . . that hadn't been instantly followed up by: a glomp, mallet, sneak attack, death threat, being groped by an ancient pervert, being force fed food or . . . or . . . Hmm, actually, the fact that the list was that long already without him having to struggle at all was bad enough, no need to keep rolling down that particular lane of thought.
Yes, the master martial artist thought to himself, having a girl for a friend, one who wasn't: engaged to him, married to him, infatuated with him, or even attracted to him at all, was a very nice change of pace. Of course, being any kind of man, the last one bothered him a bit. Fortunately, a very, very small part of him, the part that he liked to consider 'Ranma of the Common Sense', reared it's handsome head and explained that he didn't need any more problems.
Apparently, he actually had learned his lesson after the whole reversal jewel incident.
Raven had also indicated that she was interested into entering into a 'mail correspondence exchange' with him. He wasn't one hundred percent on that, but he was pretty sure she meant she wanted to be pen pals. Ranma smiled again at that thought, as he ran a hand through the shaggy mop of hair on his head. It was a funny thought, since she could literally talk to him whenever she wanted with her communicator, but then, the written aspect did seem to be very cool.
It would be nice to be able to speak to a girl, sort of anyway, without people listening in or watching over his shoulder. Besides, Raven was a smart girl, having her ear in a sympathetic manner might be able to help him out with his own problems. And the fact that she had actually gone to the trouble to hand write the letter in the first place, it made him think that she had put a lot of thought into it.
He looked up from the letter, to the massive delivery that had arrived with said letter and shook his head in disbelief. The pig-tailed youth still couldn't believe the generosity of the Titans. Raven explained, in her letter, that her and the rest of the Titans had pooled together and gotten him and Akane a few thank you gifts.
The rattle and bang of various pots and pans from the kitchen brought Starfire's . . . thoughtful . . . gift? . . . to mind. The alien girl had been kind enough to send Akane a cook book, full of strange alien recipes, as well as the ingredients to go with it. He shook his head sadly; it was obvious that Starfire was a write-off in his books. The flame haired girl was obviously too far into Ryouga's camp to be his friend now . . . in fact, if her gift was any indication, he was pretty sure she was out to kill him.
Using such despicable tactics though . . . he'd have to talk to Ryouga about curbing his would-be sister's psychotic tendencies.
Raven, on the other hand, had been nice enough to send him copies of the scrolls which Cologne had given her way back when she had visited the village. It was actually a really appropriate and well thought-out gift. It made him wonder how a girl whom he'd only known for a week or two had gotten to know him so well. He wasn't too keen on the meditation side of the martial arts, but that chi sight thing that she'd been doing, now that seemed like a really cool trick to pick up. He'd have to remember to give her an extra thanks when he wrote back to her.
Sitting on the porch, to his side, was a small box, a little bigger than a shoebox. Apparently it was a combined gift from Ryouga, Beast Boy and Cyborg. As such, he figured it was either a cool gadget, something fuzzy, or something that would hurt him . . . Hmm, on second thought, maybe he would open that particular box later . . . when he had witnesses present.
Again his eyes traveled to the object that now rested serenely in the Tendo's back yard. It was the thing that he still couldn't wrap his mind around. It was a gift from Robin; apparently the younger boy had overheard him talking about getting into the crime fighting business himself. Raven's letter informed him that Robin was very eager to help him on his way to becoming a decent vigilante. Still . . .
Who gives a virtual stranger a brand new motorcycle?
"You sent him a motorcycle?" bellowed the irate martial artist.
Robin sighed loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He'd have to remember to thank Beast Boy for letting that particular piece of information slip to one, Ryouga Hibiki.
"Yes, Ryouga, I did. He helped us out a great deal and I wanted to thank him. That and he was talking about getting into the vigilante business back in Tokyo, I figured that he would need something to help him get around a city that large," he explained as calmly as he could.
Ryouga just mumbled something under his breath, though Robin was pretty sure he caught the words: Ranma, lucky and bastard in there somewhere.
"Man . . . after all I went through with you guys, you give Ranma a motorcycle, and all I get is this umbrella?" the boy's jealous grumbling continued into the audible range. Ryouga then punctuated his point by waving around his new, pale blue umbrella dejectedly.
It was at this point that Cyborg, previously ignoring their conversation in favor of his game with Beast Boy, suddenly spun around to face them. The larger boy draped his arm over the back of the couch and glared daggers at the bandanna clad martial artist.
"Woah, woah, hey, woah, hold up right there, dawg! I made that umbrella for you, Ryo! That thing represents the culmination of the next fifty years of umbrella technology, what possible problem could you have with it?" demanded the cybernetic teen.
Ryouga stared back at Cyborg, a nonplussed expression etched on his face. Then the fanged boy absently pointed the umbrella to his side and pressed a button on the handle -
Causing a thirty foot gout of flame to burst from end of said umbrella.
Ryouga's nonplussed stare descended into the dangerous territory of arctic cold. "There is a flamethrower in my umbrella." he stated, rather matter-of-factly.
Robin's eyebrow rose noticeably at that. "There's a flamethrower in his umbrella?"
Cyborg shrugged, then nodded in agreement. "There's a flamethrower in your umbrella."
"Why is there a flamethrower in my umbrella? The very idea of a flamethrower in my umbrella runs counter to the very nature of its existence! Where on earth did you get the idea to put a flamethrower in my umbrella?" asked the irate Lost Boy in disbelief.
Robin turned to regard the cyborg, a rather nonplussed expression of his own forming. "Yes, Cyborg. Wherever did you get the idea to put a flamethrower in his umbrella?" he asked pointedly.
Cyborg squirmed under their combined gazes. "What, you don't like the flamethrower in your umbrella?" he finally squeaked out.
The masked hero nodded first. "I don't know about Ryouga, but I know that I'm not a fan of the trick umbrella . . . let's just say there are a few bad memories . . . especially about the flamethrower in the umbrella" he muttered in a low voice.
Ryouga looked back at him oddly for a moment, before nodding as well. "Look, I'm glad you made me a new umbrella, I don't know how you did it, but it's even heavier than my old one. It's just that . .. I don't think all of these strange options work for me . . . especially the flamethrower in my umbrella . . ."
The sudden look of despair that descended on Cyborg's face was almost enough to make Robin want to perform a Shi Shi Houkodan himself. He was about to apologize to the cybernetic teen, when suddenly a wide smile broke out on Cyborg's face.
"Don't like the T-Brella, eh? I guess that means that you aren't a fan of the Helicopter option either?" drawled Cyborg.
"The Helicopter option?" repeated Ryouga, a note of interest suddenly appearing in his voice.
"The Helicopter option," Cyborg replied, smiling smugly.
"There's a Helicopter option?"
"What? You didn't know about the Helicopter option?" drawled the techno genius, trying to sound aloof.
"No, I never made it past the flamethrower option. You mean there's really a Helicopter option?" Ryouga asked again, still in disbelief.
"Dawg! Of course there's a Helicopter option! What kind of pimped out umbrella would it be without a Helicopter option?"
"Wow . . . maybe there's something to this Helicopter option . . ."
"Would both of you stop saying HELICOPTER OPTION!" Robin yelled. He couldn't stand it anymore, it was driving him insane! If one more person said Helicopter option, he was going to implant a birdarang straight up their a-
Cyborg and Ryouga both stared at him, a little shocked at his outburst. Then Cyborg shrugged and turned back to Ryouga.
"Dude, you have so gotta try out the Helicopter Option!"
Robin's screams were heard even by Starfire . . . and she was out at the mall of shopping . . .
Ranma shivered fiercely, a strange sense of impending doom settling across his soul like a winter breeze.
A quick headshake later, he rose to his feet, but not before carefully depositing the thoughtfully handwritten letter under the box from Ryouga and Co. Several graceful steps then took him to the vehicles side and he ran a nervous finger down its smooth surface. The machine looked like something straight out of that Akira manga, sleek, efficient . . . and three different shades of cool!
Even cooler, was the red and black design, and the large R emblazoned on the sides. Robin must have custom made it for him, man, talk about awesome. It was perfect, it was his color, it was cool . . . and it was his! He'd never even considered owning a vehicle before, it had never been necessary with his life style. Of course, Robin had said, back in Jump City, that half of the battle in fighting crime, was actually getting to the crime before it was over.
He nodded to himself, as he slowly walked around the bike. Nerima was a ward of Tokyo, but even at his best, it would still take him forever to run to the heart of the city, where he figured all the really cool crime would be happening. Heck, after having him and his . . . friends live there for a few years, Nerima had one of the lowest crime rates in the whole city . . . discounting random property destruction anyway.
The Ranma-Cycle . . . hmmm, maybe he'd just call it the R-Cycle, even came with a removable police scanner. All he had to do was find the right frequency and he'd have the ability to know about the crime and now he'd be able to get to it with his new wheels. Man . . . this had to be one of the greatest days of his life! He couldn't wait to go flying downtown to start knocking around whatever cool super villains that wanted to terrorize his city.
Hmm . . . his city . . . it had a nice ring to it. The hero thing made a strange kind of sense to him, it was a martial artist's duty to protect people, after all. Besides, now that half of the people that he used to fight on a daily basis had moved to the States, he was gonna have to do something to keep in shape.
There was only one . . . minor problem . . .
He had absolutely no idea how to drive the damn thing!
And that was the crux of his problem, because he really, really wanted to take it out for a test drive! Of course, it couldn't be that hard to figure out. After all, riding a bicycle was all about balance and he had that in spades. Robin had been nice enough to send along an instruction manual, to let him know how the machine worked and how to maintain it . . . unfortunately there was no such manual on how to actually handle the thing on the road.
He eyed the powerful looking machine with a slightly distrustful gleam in his eye. The reflective red surface shone in the light of the setting sun, making the machine look even more dangerous. He knew he would figure out how to ride it without too much trouble . . . Still . . . there was no need to rush things. It did look like an awfully powerful bike, after all. Maybe he'd take it for a few slow circuits around the block, just putt around until he was used to it.
Maybe he'd even take Akane with him, he was sure she'd love to cruise around with him on his new bike.
He stared at the machine again, gazing at the darkly painted engine that nearly seemed to thrum with power, even while it was off. He shook his head again . . . maybe he'd wait till he was a little more used to it before he did anything reckless like put Akane on the back of the thing. Who knew what a klutz like her could do that would result in their premature demises on the back of that bike.
Besides, there was no need for him to rush into the whole crime fighting thing either. It wasn't like the criminals were gonna up and leave before he decided to finally join in. Not that he really had any idea who these supposed criminals were, or what kind of stuff they planned to do, but he was pretty sure they were out there . . . somewhere.
Yes, no need to rush, none at all-
"Ranma! It's time to come in, I just finished making dinner!"
"Ranma! It's time to come in, I just finished making dinner!"
Akane placed the pot of food on the table, then looked to the porch door. Hmm, that wasn't like him, usually the sound of food brought him running. A few steps took her to the porch door and she slid it open. She was about to call for the pigtailed boy again-
When the deafening roar of a motorcycle engine, quickly followed by a madly squealing tire, demonstrated exactly what her fiancé thought of her dinner invitation. The last thing she saw, as she stuck her head out the back door, was the glowing afterimage of Ranma's break lights as his bike flew out the back gate.
A low growl escaped her lips, as she stared at the huge rut that now ran down the center of their back yard. That – that boy, was just so predictable! So, he was off to hunt for some super human violence, was he? My, what a silly boy he was, she smiled vindictively to herself . . .
Why leave, when doing something like that would only guarantee that the very thing he went out to find . . .
Would be waiting for him when he got home?
Genma looked up from the tray of . . . food sitting before him. The look of absolute suffering and anguish that formed on his face at the sight festered for nearly ten seconds. Which was precisely when Akane turned back from the yard, a look of simmering fury on her young features. As soon as she turned though, both of their faces changed instantly. Akane's fury evaporated into a happy and expectant look as she gazed in his direction.
He, on the other hand, barely had the willpower to cobble together a panicked smile and plaster it on his face.
Desperately, Genma looked to his life long friend, seated at the head of the table, but a single glance revealed no aid forthcoming from that direction. Soun wasn't even paying attention to the . . . meal at the center of the table. Rather, his longhaired contemporary was staring into space, a thin, yet steady, stream of tears pouring down his cheeks. Of course, considering that the tears had been almost a constant since Akane and Ranma returned from America . . . The panda cursed martial artist let out a long sigh.
At least it appeared that Soun was in his 'Kasumi Phase' again.
Unfortunately, and as much as it pained him to think it, Soun had never been a strong man, not since the regrettable passing of his wonderful wife. The fact that Kasumi and Nabiki had been kidnapped in the first place had put a tremendous strain on the man. It had taken everything Genma could think of just to keep his oldest friend from slipping completely into despair. Luckily none of the children had been around to see the, already legendary, bender that he'd taken his friend on.
Of course, having Akane return with the news that, not only had she not brought her sisters with her, but that Kasumi was joining a team of crime fighters and Nabiki had gone completely criminal . . . It was a small wonder that Soun was functioning at all. Genma was fairly sure that the only thing keeping the man going was the fact that Akane was back at home, safe and sound.
But then . . . functioning was all a matter of perspective. Though Soun hadn't completely withdrawn from reality, he had started to cycle through three, more or less, distinctive moods. First, was the Akane phase, in which Soun would cry tears of desperate joy that Akane was still here and safe. It was the most preferable of the phases, and relatively quiet.
The second phase, which had two distinct phases of its own, was the Kasumi phase. Invariably, whenever the Tendo Patriarch thought about his eldest daughter, one of two things happened. The first was that the man descended into an inconsolable fit of dread and anguish, living in fear that Kasumi's life was in a constant state of danger because she was staying with those young heroes. It was . . . not a pleasant sight. The second aspect, or what was happening now, was Soun's 'tragic, but trying to be noble about it' tears of pride. As much as Soun would never admit it, the idea that Kasumi was actively making a life for herself and helping other people, it was something that he could be very proud of indeed.
Heck, Genma was proud of the girl himself.
Which left the third phase, or, as he loathed to think about it, the 'Nabiki Phase'. Luckily the Nabiki phases were relatively rare, since the showers of tears that resulted from those usually left him as a panda for the remainder of the day. Although Genma liked to joke in his head that the only thing surprising about Nabiki becoming a criminal, was the fact that Soun was surprised about it, it still saddened him greatly to see his friend in such a state. There were, of course, the tears of shame and anger. Shame that Nabiki would turn to crime, anger that she would dishonor the Tendo name so . . . But Genma knew his friend too well, the thing which really hurt the eldest Tendo, was the fact that she had chosen her criminal life over her family.
Soun loved all of his girls, they were the sum of his world, and the thought that one of them would abandon him . . . Suddenly Genma felt the rare and unfamiliar tingle of guilt at the base of his skull. It would likely feel something like what he had done to his wife, so long ago . . . Oh, the sacrifices that he had made for the Art, it was times like this, that he wondered if it had really been worth it.
Especially considering what an ingrate of a son he had raised! The least the boy could have done was take him with him!
The elder Saotome sighed again and looked from the odd entree to Akane's hopeful expression. There was only one thing that he could think to ask . . .
"Akane . . . is it supposed to be glowing blue like that?"
A sudden look of panic suddenly flashed over the girl's face and she whipped a thick book from . . . apparently nowhere. Maybe the same place that he got his signs? Hmm, best not to think about that . . . Akane flipped through the pages before finding what she was looking for.
"Um . . . apparently yes," she replied, looking as surprised as he was at the revelation.
He tried to wrap his mind around that particular concept, when Soun suddenly reached forward and heaped a portion of the strangely glowing mass onto his plate. The vacant stare on the man's face either meant he was running on auto-pilot, or had finally gone off the deep end and was looking to end it all!
"Ah, Soun, are . . . are you sure that's wise?" he asked tentatively. He bravely ignored the fiery look that Akane sent his way.
Rather than answer, the other man just mumbled morosely under his breath, something about his poor babies. Then, without even looking at the plate, Soun scooped a (probably lethal) dose of the food into his mouth. The move was so quick and deliberate, that Genma had only leapt half way across the table, trying to slap said spoon away, before it was already too late.
Genma looked away in shame as his friend's frame suddenly locked up in shock. What a fool he was! If only he had been a little faster, if only he'd stopped his friend from committing suicide . . . Now he was probably going to be stuck providing for Akane and Ranma . . .
The noble tears he cried for his fallen comrade were dashed though, as Soun suddenly relaxed and looked up at his daughter in surprise. Slowly the man lowered his spoon back to his plate and looked at it in slight wonder.
"It-it tastes like sushi . . . and . . . ice cream."
Akane looked down at her father, a beaming smile blooming on her face, only to suddenly drop into a confused grimace.
"Wait . . . is that good or bad?" she asked.
Soun looked at the plate, considering her question for several moments. Surprisingly, the tears had stopped, it was almost enough to make Genma consider trying the dish himself. Surely it held some divine powers within its luminescent, gooey depths to accomplish such a feat.
"It is . . . edible," stated the man finally. Then the tears started again as the man wrapped his arms around his daughter's legs. Soun's voice nearly burst with pride as he spoke. "Oh, Akane. You've cooked an edible meal, you're mother would be so . . . um . . . Hmmm, I don't think proud is the word . . . You're mother would be so . . ."
"Surprised?" Genma added helpfully.
Apparently, it was the wrong thing to say, as the combined glares of proud father and offended daughter descended upon him. The last thing that really crossed his mind, as he began his desperate bid for freedom, was . . .
What was that ingrate son of his doing?
Very slowly, and with great care, Ranma rolled his motorcycle into the darkened alley. Then with deliberate, almost methodical calmness, turned off the ignition and lowered the kickstand, gently letting the machine lean slightly to the left. Finally, with dignified grace, he dismounted the vehicle and took three measured steps to the alley wall.
It was then, that he finally turned to regard the crimson piece of machinery, with an . . . odd look on his face.
"I've fought berserk martial artists and Chinese warlords, faced ghosts and demons, I've even been tossed into a pit of cats repeatedly . . ." Suddenly, his legs gave way and he collapsed against the wall behind him, shaking like a leaf. "But I have never been so terrified in all of my life!"
He wasn't sure if he was talking to himself, or to the hellish beast that loomed before him; of course, neither option was really a sign of clean mental health. For the love of all of the Gods! And he had thought that Starfire was trying to kill him? What on Earth had Robin been thinking, giving him a motorcycle?
In the short drive it had taken him to get to the outskirts of the downtown region, he'd nearly died twenty seven times! He shuddered again at the memory of his unintended trip onto one of the soaring highways that ran through the city. That was something that he never wanted to even think about, ever again. Sure, ninety kilometers an hour didn't sound that fast, but in that kind of traffic and considering he'd never driven before . . .
And those damn highways had, like, no exits! He'd been stuck on there for what a nerve wracking eternity, ducking and weaving around compacts, SUV's and transports.
"Man, ya know what, Death Machine, I think I'll walk from here. Hopefully by the time I get back, the traffic will have died down some," he muttered again. He still wasn't sure who he was talking to, but he was finally starting to calm down a bit.
It was probably for the best, all he really needed the bike for, was to get to and from Nerima. He definitely didn't need it to get around now that he was in the city . . . right? He let out a sigh of disgust, not that he knew where he was going or anything either. All the more reason to ditch the bike in his mind.
Decision made, he pulled out his remote and pressed the button to activate the bikes anti-theft features. The lights flashed and the horn beeped quietly when he pushed the button, but nothing else seemed to happen. With a shrug of his shoulders, he turned to go. He figured it would be fine, after all, Robin must have had to leave his bike alone all the time.
Finally, now that that was out of the way, it was time to get down to business. It was time to find him some serious bad guys to beat on. How hard could it be, really? Tokyo was a huge city, there was bound to be some costumed whacko out somewhere causing trouble. Hmmm . . .
Now, if he were a criminal, where would he be?
Hiro flung himself desperately into the alley and slammed his back to one of its rough walls. His breathing came in desperate gasps, both from excitement over the success of his latest heist, and the exhaustion of running so hard. It had been a daring plan, but he'd executed it perfectly. His victim had been totally unprepared as well. This was sure to be his greatest take yet!
He took a few more seconds to catch his breath, before finally looking down at his prize, clutched tightly to his chest. It represented days of planning, hours spent on the street, picking out the perfect mark. Its soft leather surface shone dully in the dim moonlight.
It looked like it might be a Prada!
Yes, Hiro thought to himself, that had definitely been his most professional purse snatching ever! There was likely at least ten thousand yen in the purse, not to mention any credit cards the lady might have had. He could probably pawn the purse itself off for a decent price. Definitely a grand score indeed.
After a few more patient moments, he was finally satisfied that no one seemed to be following him either. Confident that his larcenous activities were a smashing success, he dusted off his pants happily and strolled deeper into the alleywa-
"AH!"
His heart nearly locked up when, as soon as he turned, he nearly walked face first into someone else in the alley. He stumbled back in shock several feet, trying to regain his composure and take in the person that had just shocked him half to death.
The young man, dressed in an odd Chinese manner, was currently hanging upside down from the bottom rung of a fire escape ladder. The young man was also staring at him, a mix of disgust and embarrassment on his face.
"A purse snatcher? That's the best I get? Pork-butt gets a madman bent on destroying a city and I get a purse snatcher?" The young man began to mutter to himself, still hanging upside down in a most effortless manner. What ever the guy was talking about, though, he had no idea.
"W-who the hell are you?" Hiro asked the interloper, still not thinking straight.
If the guy heard him, he didn't respond. Rather, the mystery man fired out his own inquiries. "Please tell me that you at least have some kind of super strength?"
Hiro could only stare at the pig-tailed stranger in confusion. "Are you crazy? What the heck do you want with me, kid?" he fired back, wondering if the guy was off his rocker completely.
The hanging boy simply let out an explosive sigh, sounding strangely disappointed. "No? How about energy blasts? Can you fly? Please tell me that you at least know some kind of esoteric martial arts, heck, everyone in this town knows some kind of martial art."
Hiro's worried look only increased. "Do you think if I could fly, that I'd be running away like - Wait! What the heck am I talkin to you like this for?" he barked out angrily. The guy was hanging upside down after all, there wasn't much he could do without falling down. Hiro advanced on him, raising his fists threateningly. "Now, get outta my way, before I have to hurt you!"
If anything, the boy managed to look even more despondent. "Man, this is just sad. I am literally embarrassed to be here now. Look, buddy, if you just give up now, I won't bother knocking you out, we'll just walk you down to the police box and turn you in," offered the boy in a defeated voice. Which struck Hiro as odd, considering the guy didn't seem to think he was a threat at all.
Well, he'd show this guy!
Without warning, he jumped forward and lashed out with a flashing right hook. Muscles honed from grueling hours of pulling purses away from little old ladies burned to life. Bone and tendon all worked in tandem, launching his calcium enriched knuckles directly at the sad face of his enemy.
With a thunderous whoosh, his fist flew right through the space where the boy's head had been, right until the guy bent backwards and lifted his head out of the way. The blue eyed youth then lowered himself back down, his look descending into a bored expression.
"Look, seriously pal, actually fighting you would be more embarrassing for me than it would be for you. Would you just give it up? You're not even worth taunting . . ."
The boy's words trailed off as he leaned casually to the side, cleanly avoiding Hiro's lightning fast left jab. It was quickly followed by a series of punches, jabs, hooks, haymakers and uppercuts; absolutely everything that Hiro had ever learned in those three boxing classes he'd taken three years ago because his mom was tired of him getting beat up at school.
And not a single blow landed. The boy just ducked, weaved and swung around each strike, never even moving his hands from behind his back. What was worse, was that the pigtailed nemesis didn't even look like he was trying . . . or paying attention for that matter.
Finally, a minute later, Hiro collapsed back against the wall, wheezing for oxygen once again. Apparently seeing that he was out of the fight, the hanging guy dropped form the ladder and flipped to land before him in a very gymnastic maneuver.
"Are you done now?" asked the bored fighter, casually brushing some dust off of his red Chinese shirt.
Hiro's response was simple yet clear, as he bull rushed his opponent, trying to tackle the slightly smaller male. It seemed like a bit of a long shot . . . but really, what choice did he have?
Of course, the pig -tailed boy saw his charge coming a mile away. If anything, the guy almost looked ready to cry, rather than exultant in his imminent victory. Which was pretty much what Hiro figured must have happened . . .
Since it was about that time that everything went black.
Ranma stared at the sleeping purse snatcher at his feet. The pressure point he'd used was just about the most basic and non-violent thing he managed to think of to take the guy out. The fact that it had worked was just a testament to just how unbelievably outclassed his opponent had been. That pressure point wouldn't have worked on Tsubasa . . . well, probably not anyway, Tsubasa was pretty pathetic too, actually.
Mentally, he began to tally his take for the night. He lifted his right hand up and extended his index finger. "One mugger, easily taken care of." He raised his middle finger. "One cat burglar, that guy didn't even put up a fight. He raised his ring finger. "That really old guy trying to take a lollipop from a baby . . ." He lowered that finger, "Hmm, actually, the baby won that one . . ."
He then looked back to the guy at his feet. "And, one purse snatcher. Man, this is ridiculous, there has to be someone in this city that's actually worth fighting. There's no way that I'll be able to keep up with Ryouga if he keeps getting major bad guys and I get stuff like this. Man, if I keep fightin these guys, I might actually get worse."
Still, improvement or not, he still had to deal with the pile of petty criminal at his feet. Feeling like a kid being forced to clean his room, he reluctantly grabbed the back of the purse snatchers jacket and started dragging him out of the alley. Talk about a disappointing night. After dropping this guy off . . .
He was so going home.
Akane looked up from her school book at the sound of a motorcycle entering the backyard. A bit surprised, she looked over to the clock to the side. It was only eleven o'clock . . . she wasn't expecting her fiancé to be back from his . . . crime fighting for at least another hour or two. Not that she was waiting up for him or anything.
Certainly not because she was worried, either.
Her fiancé's machine idled up to the deck, before the sound of the motor finally died out. She took a moment to decide whether or not to still be angry with the boy, for appearances sake and such, but then decided to let his next actions decide. It had been a few hours after all, and Ranma did tend to have a pretty contagious smile when he was actually happy. Maybe he would have some good stories for her, or maybe he'd even offer to take her for a ride on his motorcycle . . .
Not that she was at all excited about the idea . . . really.
She carefully closed her textbook and lowered it to the table as the near whisper of Ranma's footsteps sounded across the back porch. Hmm, that was slightly odd, he was making more noise than he usually did. If it had been anyone else outside that door, she'd swear they were dragging their feet . . .
Slowly, the back door slid open and the pig tailed boy wandered into the house. Immediately, she noticed the rather depressed and disappointed look on his face. He looked up, a bit surprised to see her there, apparently. Whatever had happened, it seemed to have made him forget that she had been mad at him when he left. Rather, he just waved at her a little weakly.
"Hey, 'Kane. What ya workin' on?" he mumbled a little despondently.
A little twinge of sympathy rose up in her heart at the lilt in his voice. She decided then, that she could let the whole dinner episode slide. After all, her father and Mr. Saotome had liked it, so she was happy enough.
"Nothing much, just an English assignment. Heh, they seem ridiculously easy after being drilled by Cologne and immersed in it with the Titans," she explained, trying to lift Ranma's spirits a bit. It did seem to have an effect, as the boy's lips twinged slightly upwards.
"Yeah, Miss Hinako nearly drained me after that first test last week . . ." he trailed off, losing enthusiasm quickly.
She motioned for him to sit beside her, a worried look forming on her features. Surprisingly, he did just that, and dropping his chin to the table soon after. She lowered her own chin to rest on her hands and turned to look him in the eyes.
"So . . . how did it go?" she asked quietly.
Ranma let out a rather loud sigh at that. "I don't really wanna talk about it."
She nodded in understanding. "That bad, huh? Did you at least help anyone?"
He seemed to consider that for a few moments, before finally nodding. "Yeah, I guess so, but none of the guys that I stopped were even worth my time. I feel like I wasted my whole night goin' out there. There's no way that I'm gonna get the kind of training that Ryouga does against muggers and purse snatchers . . ."
Akane giggled at that, at the absurd image of Ranma, one of the greatest fighters that she's ever known, actually battling purse snatcher in mortal combat. Still, it was obvious that it was bothering him. "Ranma . . . I think that you're missing the point here," she stated carefully.
He stared back, obviously not understanding. Rather than reply, he just grunted out a semi-verbal request for her to explain. Letting out a sigh at his proto-human behavior, she rolled her eyes and continued.
"Ranma, the point of fighting crime isn't to become a better martial artist. The point of fighting crime, is to fight crime. Ryouga didn't join the Titans so that he could get good enough to beat you, he did it so that he could help people." Ranma's questioning eyebrow stopped her for a moment.
"Okay, okay, so Ryouga joining the Titans did help him beat you, once, but didn't you say that he was as surprised by the fact that he won as you were?" she asked.
Ranma considered that point as well, before nodding slowly to himself.
"See? So, since you think that Ryouga has better people to fight than you, you said you were wasting your time tonight. Tell me, do you think the person that you saved from that mugger thinks that you helping them was a waste of time?" she inquired leadingly.
The pigtailed boy's eyes widened slightly for a moment, before he looked down, a bit shamefaced. "Makes me seem a bit petty now, don't it? Here I am, more worried about helpin' myself than anyone else . . . Maybe I'm not cut out for this hero stuff after all," muttered her fiancé, his voice hitting an all time low.
Rather than agree with him, she smiled warmly and dropped a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Ranma, you are a hero. You flew around the world, just to help your friend. You fought a psychotic villain and even managed to save us all in the end . . . with a little help from Starfire," she added teasingly.
The despairing look on Ranma's face lifted a bit at that, in fact, the boy actually smiled fondly at the memory. "Heh, with a lot of help from Starfire. There's no way that I could have done it without her. And even more help from Raven, if it weren't for her, none of us would be here right now."
She nodded, glad to see that he was catching on. "See? Your heart is in the right place, you're just looking at it from the wrong angle. Raven and Starfire aren't worried about getting better, they're just worried about helping people. As long as you remember that helping people is the real reason that you go out there, then maybe it won't seem like such a waste of time when you stop those muggers and purse snatchers.
"And I bet, that given enough time, you'll eventually run into someone that will actually give you the challenge that you're looking for. After all, I bet the Titans deal with normal criminals all the time too, the can't all be super villains, can they? Besides, you're such a trouble magnet, it's only a matter of time, when you think about it," she finished. Her smile widened and she gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
Finally, he sat back up, smiling and nodding to himself. "Hey, you're right, Akane. As long as I'm out there helping people, I'll be doin' something worthwhile. And I'm sure that eventually my hard work will pay off and I'll get my very own villain,"
Akane rolled her eyes at that, leave it to her fiancé to think a dangerous opponent was good karma. She was about to tease him about that very thing, when suddenly he locked eyes with her, a warm look in his sapphire orbs. She felt a small murmur in her chest and she sucked in a small breath involuntarily.
"Thanks, Akane. You really made me feel better about this, I don't know how to thank you . . ." he trailed off, a small blush forming on his cheeks as he realized what he was saying.
She decided to take the initiative and put a finger to his lips, since it was always at just that moment that he would invariably begin to speak without thinking and inevitably insult her, yet again. His lips were actually surprisingly soft, but she decided to tuck that fact away for later consideration. She felt her own cheeks begin to burn as she thought about her answer.
"Well . . . if you're that thankful, maybe . . . you could give me a ride on your bike tomorrow . . . if it's not too much trouble . . ." she began to trail off herself, starting to feel embarrassed over her forward suggestion. It was almost inevitable that he would twist her request around on her, or say something unintentionally insulting . . .
However, rather than either of those things, he simply raised his hand to encompass hers, and lowered her finger from his lips. But instead of answering, he just nodded, smiling shyly himself.
And they remained there for some time, just hold hands for no reason. It was, the youngest Tendo thought to herself, kind of nice . . . She didn't know what exactly was going on with her fiancé lately, but she found it hard to say she didn't like whatever it was. Of course, if it was up to her . . .
Ranma would hopefully never have to deal with a villain a dangerous as the Headmaster.
'Kill them all'
The thought had been on Brushogun's mind often since his transformation. 'Kill them all, kill everything that lives.' He knew it was the demon inside him that wanted it, the demon wanted him to bath in the blood of his victims, to paint the entire world crimson, as it were. Somewhat appropriate, really.
"No . . . not yet, anyway. I – I still don't know what I can do, or what I'm up against . . . I can't just start killing people," he muttered to himself. He ignored the strange looks on his minion's faces, they were just reflections of his will anyway, it didn't matter what they thought.
'KILL!'
Brushogun reeled slightly as the thought echoed through his head. "Maybe . . . I'll work my way up to that . . . Start small, learn my limits, learn what I can do. That – that makes sense," he tried to reason with himself.
'KILL!'
"NO!"
"No . . . I can't just jump straight to murder . . . That's not how it's done in the manga . . .," he muttered quietly. Slowly, he looked to his ink stained hands, uncertainty staining his mind as well. He didn't want to kill people, did he? Why did he want to kill people again?
Why were his hands bleeding ink again?
Suddenly Brushogun convulsed painfully, then rocked to the side, clutching his papery skull. His minions watched impassively with empty eyes, as their master flailed to and fro before them. Until, finally, Brushogun grew still once more.
Slowly, Brushogun stood straight, his liquid smile spreading wide across his face. No, there was no need to go straight to the real fun. He needed to stretch his wings first, spread chaos, sow fear, let this pathetic city know who its new master was. First, he needed to crush his opposition; he needed to show the populace that they were powerless before him.
His smile widened, mirrored cruelly on the faces of his creations. For that, he would need to find Tokyo's heroes, its defenders . . .
And crush them.