Ruroni Ranko
Chapter Three

by Skysaber
aka Jared Ornstead

During the mushroom incident events diverge from normal and enemies try to take advantage of our pigtailed hero. Unfortunately for them, attempts to get rid of him often go disastrously wrong.

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The trio of martial artists found a place to stay, an old inn sleeping quietly amid forest and spring (and not too far from downtown Nerima - odd, that) called the Mirror Mansion that was willing to give them shelter for the night. Upon entering, coming in out of a heavy rain, they immediately excused themselves to go upstairs to hear Ukyo's story.

"Okay, Ucchan. We've got privacy. What did you want me to do for you?" Ranko stated once they'd set down their heavy packs, all in one room for now.

"One second, Ranchan," the pretty little okanomiyaki chef busily checked the room, its corners and particulars, finding one electronic bug and putting a cork in an old speaker-tube system originally put in place so the residents of the room could call down to the servant's level for lunch or someone to open their window, or whatever.

Once that was done she plunked herself down to sit crosslegged on the floor, where the two swordsmasters joined her.

"Okay, I know this may sound odd to you, but it's not been only a day or so since I last saw you, it's been closer to twenty years for me." She sighed, holding her chest as tears graced the corners of her eyes, gazing fondly on her Ranchan. "I suppose I should start from the beginning, shouldn't I?"

The two swordsmen nodded, and Ucchan launched onto her mighty tale. "Ranchan, on what was yesterday for you, Ryoga came to my restaurant, boasting about how he was going to destroy you. He claimed to have shrunk you down to a five year old body and he was going to try to kill you, his advantage was he had already restored himself to sixteen. I butted in, hammering him down so I could get the magic mushrooms that were supposed to cure you. But he retaliated, and during his uppercut he shoved one of those mushrooms down my throat, shrinking me down to a five year old too."

Ranchan nodded, and having his undivided attention was getting her a trifle flush, even if he was in girl form at the time he gave it. She suppressed a pleased giggle with difficulty and went on, "Anyway, once he'd done this he took his pack and ran off. I had to get changed to child's clothes before I followed, and I caught up to him at the Tendo home. I chased him inside, but before I knew it I wasn't any place I knew. I was running through a burning house with soldiers and stuff outside. At first I thought he'd gotten me lost, but as it turned out, I was in another era of time altogether, and I don't think even the Lost Boy gets THAT lost!"

She sighed to steady herself, drinking in her Ranchan's features before continuing, "I left the house, evading some spearmen who tried to keep me inside by jumping over their heads. Then I tried to figure out where I was. Some samurai found me, and before I knew I was displaced in time I'd already told them my name."

Her calm, clear eyes met those of her currently female groom, speaking of other things while her love for him shone through. "You've got to understand, it was an age were few enough people HAD last names, and those who did so had them because of some powerful clan affiliation. My clan was in service to a powerful one, so when I'd introduced myself as Ukyo Kuonji, they got me on a couple of horses with them and rode the couple hundred miles to deliver me safely to my clan, hoping for reward money for my safe return."

Seijuro got forgotten as Ukyo increasingly got absorbed in telling her story to her beloved Ranchan. "On the way there I'd learned I was all of the way back during the Meiji Revolution, and I knew I was stuck as a child unless I could find more magic mushrooms. So once we got to our clan's castle I did my best to prove I was a Kuonji, and if it wasn't for my martial arts I don't think I could've succeeded. It wasn't exactly what they practiced," here she blushed. "But it was close enough for them to take me in and pay a reward to those samurai who'd rescued me."

Blush forgotten, she went back to studying her Ranchan's face, which was equally intent on providing undivided attention to her. "At the end, they took me for a love child left behind by one of the clan's wandering members, and only partly trained. I was glad for it, as that assumption saved my life. It was not a good time to be a child alone. There were gangs of slavers and bandits all over."

She saw a small quirk of her Ranchan's lips at that comment and resolved to ask him about it later. "Anyway, the clothes I was wearing were expensive by the standards of the time, if a little strange, and of course I knew how to read - which stood out as unusual, even if my calligraphy wasn't perfect. So they took me as the offspring of an actual clan member instead of a retainer, and that meant I got to be completely taught our family style."

Her manner changed. And, biting her lip, she lowered her gaze. "My family are ninja, Ranchan. As my oldest and closest friend, as well as my husband, you deserve to know. I shouldn't be saying it, even so... there are rules against letting even someone as close to me as you know what I am. Ah, I... I'll understand if you don't want me, now you know."

She was silenced by a touch on her chin, lifting her head up to meet the cheery gaze of Ranchan. No condemnation or fear was found anywhere in her happy smile to the scared and careful search Ukyo performed for any hint of rejection.

Instantly she'd blurred across the floor, and finished the story in Ranko's lap, her arms wrapped around his presently girly frame as the chef spoke into the crook of his neck, crying softly with relief. "There's not much else to say, Ranchan. I got trained in my family style of ninjitsu, of which the okanomiyaki parts were just a handy disguise, a watered down form adopted during some disarmament or other."

She sobbed, but seemed to gather steam now that the worst confession was over, speaking almost eagerly into Ranko's neck, "I wasn't the Kuonji clan's best ninja, but I was competent. Around my fifteenth birthday they sent me a 'gift' to my room, and she was a girl, so they discovered that I'd been female that whole time." She giggled into his shirt. "I'd disguised it as long as I could because girls had no rights back then. But getting uncovered caused a big stink and ended my formal martial arts training. They weren't progressive enough to want to teach a girl, well, not any more than they'd already taught me anyway. So they let me stew a couple of months while they decided what to do with me, and in the end I kinda got lucky."

Ucchan gathered two fistfuls of Ranko's shirt as she made her next admission. "A more powerful clan beat our sponsor on the field and demanded hostages of them and all of their retainers. Our clan head reasoned that if I could fool my own family for so long I could fool anyone else into thinking I was a boy, so I got a samurai haircut and a change of clothes and got sent, with a woman told to act as my mother, to live under the roof of another feudal lord, pretending to be a younger boy of high clan standing - whose life was forfeit if our clan broke the terms of the truce. I got sent as I was disposable. No one knew what to do with me anyway, so it was considered a small loss if I'd died."

Ranko began tenderly, if a touch awkwardly, patting Ukyo's back in a comforting way. "It's a harsh era, Ucchan. Loads of cruel decisions like that got made."

She wiped some tears from her eyes and finished out the story, "In alot of ways I got so lucky, so many times, Ranchan. It could've been so much worse than it was. As a hostage, my keepers were expected to teach me how to be a proper samurai, and they did try. I never quite got the whole stoic thing down right, but I became decent with a sword, and I can ride and shoot with the best of them. I was able to keep my gender a secret for as long as I was there, and I'd kept my ninja skills sharp, so when my clan broke the truce I was able to sneak out. Then, having nowhere else to go, it was back to my clan. They debated what to do with me, and marrying me off was high on their list."

Ukyo hiccupped, and desperately tightened her hold on her beloved. "Only I wasn't hot property, Ranchan, too rough and with all the wrong training to make a respectable wife, and too valuable an operative to just throw away on a man who had no standing. So I had to come to face the fact that I'd eventually have to accept being someone's second wife, if not lower down in status like fourth or fifth, or just stuck as an official mistress, which was more likely as I had none of the bridal training a real catch back then would've demanded."

Seijuro watched calmly, arms crossed and not interrupting as she sobbed into his heir's shoulder. "I wasn't young either. I'd grown to twenty-five, and reached my expiration date as a woman during the debates over what to do with me. So I was almost certainly going to be tossed away as a mistress to somebody foul, and used to spy on him, when I got lucky once again; While they were figuring out what to do with me the clan was sending me out on various assignments. So I was on a mission trailing these two martial arts Devil Hunters, observing them to see if they could be hired, when I followed them into an ice cave and this really old Yuki Onna hit me with a snowball. I reappeared at the Tendo dojo, where I'd vanished from in the first place. I knew enough to stay hidden, and steal Ryoga's backpack that had those mushrooms in it, before I escaped. So I took one to be sixteen again and sought you out, hoping you'd accept me as a wife. And here I am!"

She directed a gaze, filled with adoration, into the eyes of the young man (who was currently a girl) she was presently holding, who began chuckling.

"Hey, Ranchan, what's so funny?"

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"So practically the same thing happened to you!" Ucchan cried out in astonishment, then regarded Seijuro carefully. "Wow. At least you got lucky in the family department." Her brown hair flew as she shook her head, "And to think, that was YOU I was tracking in that cave! How strange is that?"

"And I was worried that I'd end up getting married to some simpering young thing who'd never understand me!" Ranko laughed, sharing her woes with her oldest and dearest friend. Rubbing the back of her head, Ranko added in a relaxed, companionable way, "It's kinda weird, though, that you came to confront us about taking you as Ranma's bride, when my father interrupted to offer you the same thing before you could even ask."

"A happy coincidence, Ranchan. And I, for one, am delirious with joy. You should've seen some of those potential husbands they were thinking of making me mistress to!" The maiden's long hair flew as she shook her head in delighted relief. "I cried on my pillow all night, every night, wishing I'd gotten you instead. You may be a little rough, Ranchan, but nothing about you makes you a monster. You're actually really sweet, and kind and caring and the more I found out what the alternatives were the more desperately I'd wanted YOU! You're a real hero, Ranchan, probably the most honest and courageous guy that I've ever met and at the same time one of the gentlest, too. I'd have been lucky if some of those men they'd considered for me would have treated me as well as they'd have kept a dog!"

"No coincidence, daughter," Seijuro calmly informed her, accompanying them down the stairs in the western style dwelling. "I knew of you through tales my son told me. So I knew beforehand of the promised marriage, and I was agreeable to it. I know of his great fondness for you, which is superior to what most grooms hold for their brides, and had heard from him how desperately you wanted this match. As I desired for him to start providing suitable heirs, all our wishes could be fulfilled from the moment you arrived."

"What of the other girls? The three magic users you promised Ranma is to court, starting tomorrow?" Ranko asked humbly. If Ukyo's own perceptions had not been so skewed by living so many years in a difficult period of the past, she would have noted and wondered at the change. Her Ranchan actually sounded respectful, something she'd never heard from him before.

Though, because of her own changes and present, great relief, she didn't notice.

With a tiny gesture, Seijuro cut off that line of questioning, indicating they would talk about it later, as they came closer to the old man who'd let them in.

The old caretaker of the house met them at the bottom of the steps and began the speech he'd meant to give as he'd welcomed them indoors, carrying a lit candlestick as the house didn't seem to have electrical power. "Welcome to the Mirror Mansion. We don't get many guests here, so you're welcome to stay for as long as you like. It'll be pleasant to have fresh company."

Here the man's withered face gave them a foreboding expression as they entered the main room on the ground floor. "Just remember to be careful. You never know when you may slip on a banana peel and fly toward the forbidden curtain ahead and glimpse the terrible secret beneath! If that should happen..."

The old man, who'd been gazing about in reminiscence about the old house, gave a startled, "GYAAAAAA!" as he saw that what he'd warned about had already occurred.

Ranko was already sitting in a pile of torn curtain, blinking at her reflection in a gigantic oval mirror, reaching twenty feet tall in a gilt and fancy frame hung prominently on the now uncovered wall of the two-story room.

Ukyo was blinking rapidly in shock, while Seijuro groaned and quietly facepalmed at the clumsy display. Now, it had often been remarked upon that Kenshin Himura, obviously one of the most skilled swordsmen of his era, could often perform near superhuman feats of dexterity and skill while in a battle, but when outside of those circumstances was vulnerable to occasional and inexplicable bouts of all-too-human failures of coordination.

Ranko too, for all of her training, wasn't any less vulnerable to the odd bout or two of astonishing clumsiness despite the surreal nature of her normal adroitness and agility. As the caretaker mentioned the odd and improbable series of events, the 14th Master's girl form fell prey to all of them, in order, as they were being mentioned.

Perhaps it was a curse on the house.

It was even more astonishing when her reflection stepped out, saying with a tear of joy, "Such a lovely girl... I am so fortunate!"

Yes, they were back in Nerima, where genuine magic artifacts seemed to be just as common as martial arts, and both occurred in the oddest varieties.

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In an upstairs bedroom of the Tendo domicile, Kasumi was tending to Akane's facial injuries, while downstairs it sounded like Nabiki and Ryoga were both playing with Happosai.

The eldest Tendo girl smiled, trying to encourage her sister. "Really Akane, is it so bad?"

"Bad? BAD?!' Akane yelled, then winced and began to cry again when the act of shouting opened up her wounds again. Kasumi handed her a cloth to sop up the salty tears before they could reach her wounds and aggravate them again. The last time that had happened the pain had caused her to cry more and that made things worse.

She wasn't about to get herself in a situation where they had to wash those cuts again. No, sir!

"Really, Akane. Those cuts are very precise and surgically neat. I'm sure they ought to heal up in a few days." Kasumi comforted.

"So says a girl who doesn't have 'Adulteress,' 'Oathbreaker' and 'Whore' carved into her face," the suffering girl named the three kanji that Ranko had sliced into her forehead and cheeks.

"Well, he did leave out violent maniac," Kasumi offered kindly, thinking there was still space open on her sister's chin, and how nice and restrained Ranma was not to fill it.

Akane scowled at her older sister, before holding her cheeks to stop the pain that making such a face had cost her.

"Really, Akane," Kasumi admonished. "I don't see how you can be so upset, since he didn't name you anything that wasn't true."

The youngest facefaulted in agony, then got to her feet and shouted, "How can you SAY something like that, Kasumi!?!" Before she clutched her face and doubled over in pain.

The kind girl continued in her typical honest but clueless manner, "But Akane, you did admit to taking a strange man to your bed, and I know I've seen you mash Ryoga's face into your breasts. That's not something you are supposed to do with your fiance's greatest rival, and especially not in front of him. It's the sort of behavior that qualifies as adultery, and very rude in not allowing him to ignore it going on. Then, you broke your promise made on our departed mother's name that very same day you made it. I gave up trying to get you to keep your word from that point on, as I don't know of any stronger oath. And then there is how you assist Nabiki in her business. I'm afraid there's no other way to describe a girl who sells sex, even if it's only sexy pictures, for money."

Soun's oldest daughter folded her hands nicely in her lap and gave her sibling a kind and brilliantly loving smile as she squirmed in pain. "So, you see, it really isn't bad at all that those wounds are going to scar and leave you marked that way for life! You don't have to worry a single moment about your reputation being ruined. No one will say a single lie behind your back because it's all true!"

Weeping tears, face blotted into a dry towel, and afraid to say anything or make an expression for fear of aggravated her wounds still further, Akane wished she could tell her dear older sister that her comfort wasn't helping.

"Oh, dear, they're getting red and inflamed once again," Kasumi observed the salty cuts as her sister lowered the towel for air. "But that's alright," she continued brightly. "We can just wash them again! It's really the only way to clean cuts and promote proper healing."

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As it so happened, certain people who were fixtures of Ranma's original life were absent as Furinkan High was taking its students on a field trip. So it was, that while kendo club members and some others were dodging pineapple bombs or exploding coconuts, some of the students (even some from Akane's class) were walking through an ancient castle, actually getting an education.

As it happened, it was a fully furnished castle, kept and maintained as part of a historical outreach program once it had no longer been possible for the original family who owned it to maintain as a working residence. The priceless furnishings and artwork survived the class trip only because Miss Hinako drained their principal before he could get inside to use any explosives.

So, aside from an event-filled morning trip on their way to the historical site, nothing unusual or untoward happened, which was a distinct change for the students from the regular drudgery of insane martial arts battles or abuse from their principal, who was currently acting as a beach blanket for overweight ugly people on the beach he'd blown to.

Most students were taking this opportunity to enjoy the field trip as a vacation, and those with the ability were wandering the halls enjoying the artwork, weapons, armor and furnishings preserved there.

Of course, what that class couldn't know was that castle was one of the many places that Ranko had been successfully kidnapped to, and, like many nobles who'd done so, the family had been fully aware of her reputation for not staying caught and had commissioned paintings of her, so if it turned they couldn't keep her despite their best efforts they'd at least have a picture of her. Paintings like this had been made all over the place - portraits which many historians argued couldn't be real, or not entirely real, insisting they were at the very least exaggerations - which didn't explain why all of those paintings were so close to the same, and agreed on virtually all important details, accurate for the period (aside from the hotly disputed subject matter) or were indisputably as old as they ought to have been.

Odd how so many historians spend their time arguing over how history never happened.

Still, among those who had better things to do than argue over why a red haired, blue eyed Japanese girl couldn't have existed in the Meiji, especially not one with such well developed curves, they could appreciate that legends are always about something rare and extraordinary that doesn't appear normally, and go on enjoying the reason why this castle was so popular a historical site.

It was one of those rare few where a full-detail painting of the semi-legendary "flame-haired Ranko" still existed on the walls, and was available for public display. The majority of those paintings to survive were in private collections and not shown to just anyone.

Yuka and Sayuri came to join the crowds around the legendary artwork, hemmed off by ropes and security measures as would suit the Mona Lisa in the Louvre, of which some thought the value was comparable, while native Japanese felt that this was higher.

Staring over the backs of the crowd, Yuka blinked at seeing the portrait of the kimono clad girl reclined, stunningly beautiful even in repose, and then whispered to Sayuri, "Hey, I'd never noticed before, but doesn't Ranma's girl side look alot like the legendary 'flame-haired Ranko' to you?"

"Yah, and it's kinda creepy our tomboy looks like a picture of the legendary beauty, except for the missing pigtail and the boyish way he acts, of course. That's probably why we never noticed a likeness before now." Sayuri agreed, looking over the portrait taken of the martial artist, unaware they were the same person as she contrasted the cursed guy she knew with the legends about Japan's most desired woman.

"What's even more creepy is that once or twice I've heard him use the same name - Ranko, when going disguised as a girl. It's just so odd that he'd try and disguise himself as the girl who almost single-handedly formed one of two competing symbols of Japanese girls' desirability over the last hundred and fifty years." Yuka puzzled, as two 'Red-Geisha', with red dyed hair and ample curves based on the maiden who'd become something of the castle's claim to fame, walked past the crowds.

The two girls sighed. "What would you give to be that desirable? To have plays written about you, and battles fought over you?"

"Yah," dreamy sigh. "Hey, didn't the Greeks have someone similar?"

Sayuri gladly enlightened her friend. "Yes, and they called her Helen of Troy, so beautiful that it was said her face launched a thousand ships when her husband went to war against her lover. If you ask me, those Greek stories were small pickings compared to the epic tales surrounding Ranko of the Fiery Hair."

Both girls once again sighed in well intended jealousy over the famous girl, thinking dreamy dreams over what it would be like to have been like flame-haired Ranko, famed for her sapphire eyes and stunning beauty, desired by nobles all over Japan.

Good looks like those would solve all of their boy problems, they were sure.

Of course, none of them were aware of certain photos which had begun to circulate, taken by shopkeepers of a traditionally dressed young flame-haired maiden who'd been shopping for a teakettle, or what excitement that would bring.

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As the person who had worse boy problems than either schoolgirl could imagine, Ranko currently sat beside an identical copy of herself, the two identical girls rested side by side on a big cushion in a circle with the rest of her chosen family before a fire which crackled and popped as the old caretaker explained their situation.

"The mirror was fashioned a century ago. It is said that it belonged to the young lady of the Monkey family. So beautiful was that maiden that she would gaze into the mirror day after day, seeing no one but herself. Then, after years of spending her days thus, she fell to a terrible illness and left this world tortured with regret over never having gotten a husband."

The old caretaker sighed, shifting his weary bones. "Perhaps her spirit possessed that mirror, for ever since anyone who is reflected in that surface will have her reflection step forth... and proceed to try to go out with anything that breathes."

"But that would mean..." the One True Ranko began ominously.

Her double had already changed into a sexy mini-dress complete with appropriate accessories for a night on the town, and was bounding toward the exit. "No man is safe! See you around!"

"So?" Ranko asked, having caught and now seated on her high-heeled double.

"Why didn't it copy me?" Ukyo asked, probing for details. "I was reflected in that mirror as well."

Leaning on his cane even as he sat, the wrinkled old caretaker replied, "It really should have. It's never fallen down on the job like this before." sigh. "And it will take at least another week to make a replacement sealing curtain, too."

"What does a sealing curtain do?" Seijuro asked, calmly sipping his tea.

"It's the only way to seal a reflection back into the mirror, once it's escaped," the old caretaker replied.

"And why would we want to do that?" Seijuro returned, calmly taking another sip from his tea.

Instantly, he had all eyes on him, particularly those of the double-Ranko, who was blinking up at him in hopeful surprise.

Ranko's father-in-law replaced his cup on the table before him before raising his eyes to those of the caretaker, commanding politely yet firmly, "Tell me all you know concerning these mirror doubles. Do they eat? Do they sleep? Are they mortal? Can they die? You say they seek romance, can they breed and bear children? How much of the original's knowledge and power do they possess? How long can they survive outside of the mirror? What weaknesses do they possess?"

"Oh, they can die alright," the old man reassured him, inwardly wondering at him being the first person to ever explore this rather than just try and be rid of the reflection. "My own reflection died in a car accident when I was twenty-six."

Had to be about a hundred years ago. His entire audience thought.

"What happened? Can you describe the aftereffects for us?" Seijuro prompted.

"Hm?" the old man was brought out of private reminiscing and sought to share. "Oh! Young folks nowadays have no interest in stories. You're an odd one. But I'll be glad to tell! Let's see, I can recall the incident now. I was just staying in this place overnight, like you are, but slipped on a banana peel and tore the curtain, then wham I had a double! It got away from us, naturally enough. Then later my reflection was in a car making out with the driver, touched something he shouldn't have and they sped out of control, smashed into a wall and that's it. Since that time I haven't cast another reflection is this mirror. Others still work for me just fine. But they made me caretaker of this place because I was the only one who could work around the doubling mirror safely."

"So, one reflection per person?" Seijuro probed, testing for limits. "Yours died and you could not cast another in it? What about reflections? Can those it created make copies of themselves in the mirror?"

With a surprising kick for such an old guy, the caretaker hit the cushion Ranko and her double were still seated on, sending it sliding out in front of the mirror again. "Nope! Looks like it doesn't! I didn't think so, what with the way things work when we put those copies back in. But you never know some things until you've tested them!"

The old guy began laughing.

Ranko looked at the mirror, then her double. "Strange. I've never looked in a glass before without seeing my reflection. But I guess you're out here now." She went from addressing her double to once again considering the old man. "You say that other mirrors work for you just fine?"

"That's true!" the old man confirmed. "It's only your reflection from this mirror that goes wandering about. Other ones, even other magic ones, work fine. I should know, we've got a few around here. This place has collected a couple, some I even use to control the runaway reflections from this one. But to go back to your earlier questions, the reflections are perfect copies of the original, except they don't copy other magic, that I'm aware of. Hehe, there was an incident there that makes a good story if you've got an evening. However, they eat, sleep, and do everything just like the original would, except of course they've got the sex drive of a truckload of bunny rabbits as far as finding a partner goes. No inhibitions at all! It is the one goal that they'll pursue."

Seijuro gave the caretaker a very considerate, although shallow, bow. "I thank you for the information. We would like to know all you do about this device, and your other objects, if that is agreeable."

"Now wait just a second, sonny," the old man crooked a bent finger warningly. "You can't know everything. I've gotta save that for the next caretaker! Ever since the family passed away, everything belongs to us now! Of course, what with all we've been doing to limit the number of reflections that escape, there haven't been any more of us for a while. In fact, I'm the last one. But for ninety years now I've stood watch and kept the cause, and I'll only pass down the secrets to another young kid like me, who loses his reflection!"

Without a word, Seijuro stood, nodded to the old man, ordered Ranko, "Daughter, bare your breasts, please." And, with his back turned to her, stepped before the mirror.

As expected, his double stepped out. When the reflection's eyes caught sight of Ranko's exposed bosom they caught his notice, and the real Seijuro beheaded the copy from behind during that moment of distraction.

Wiping off his sword, he sheathed it, watching the tiny glass particles and motes fall from where his reflection had powdered into dust.

The master had shown no emotion during that whole time. With a nod to Ranko, he instructed, "You may cover yourself now, please."

Double-Ranko had started crying by the time the foremost master had seated himself. Crying, she pled, "Are... are you going to kill me, too?"

"No," Seijuro finished for her. "There is no point to it. You are going to marry my son. He is already known to have a wife looking exactly like you, but she is a target for assassins so you will assist us in throwing those off. We will accept you as one of us if you will do this."

"Ooooh!" Double-Ranko squealed in excitement, throwing the original off her back as she sat up sparkling in glee. "When do I get to meet him?!? Is he handsome?"

"Countless maidens have thought so," the master answered, then directed a gaze to his original daughter-in-law. "Ranko, take your double up for a bath. Use hot water. Ukyo, go stand before the mirror. I must confirm something."

When the pretty chef had done as he asked, Seijuro took that as confirmation. "Very well, you do not cast a reflection in that mirror. Therefore, you did once and she used your stealth skills to escape from us. You and I must go out to search the town and recover her before she falls to harm. Once she has been rescued, we will return to this place where I will receive the instruction due me in their magical arts, and you will take care of your husband."

The ninja nodded fiercely, determination and gladness evident in her eyes at the kindness of her new father in law. She liked performing assignments she could believe in! But before she sprang off she returned to addressing the old man. "Hey, do our copies still have the same tastes as we do? I mean my reflection: will she desire men that suit my own fancy?"

"Yes, they share your exact likes and dislikes as far as partners go, only other magic could mess around with that." The caretaker blinked rheumy eyes at her from behind thick glasses.

Ukyo turned triumphantly to her new father in law. "Then could we ask Ranchan to wait on a full bath for a bit? Because the best way to find a ninja is to draw them in with bait, and there's no one I'm half as attracted to as Ranchan. If we get him out there, we won't have to penetrate her stealth techniques, she'll come to us."

In answer, Seijuro drilled Copy-Ranko with a steady gaze. "You will see your husband before we go. However, could you wait on consummating your marriage for a bit? Is your control of your desire strong enough to wait on that while we go to rescue your sister?"

"Yes! I can wait!" the lovely copy clasped her hands together girlishly. "Lucky me, everything is going so wonderfully!" She fixed the original with her gaze, to address her in thanks. "I get a husband right away, and you even look a bit like the 'flame-haired Ranko' of legends!"

"I AM Flame-Haired Ranko, you idiot! And I wish those stupid nobles would stop calling me that!!" The aforementioned redhead's temper flared up as the comment touched a sore spot.

The caretaker of the mansion's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he passed out, after clutching his chest with a strangled "GYAAA!!"

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Author's Notes:
Generous thanks must go to Varth for the suggestion that the lust surrounding flame-haired Ranko led to legends transforming her into a Japanese symbol of beauty like Helen of Troy was for the Greeks, and that there should be humorous fallout from that fact.

A fallout that I am only now beginning to explore.

I'd like to thank everyone for their positive response. You really make this a labor of love, and thus both fun and easy to do.

Also, don't forget, for every question answered another must be posed. The story wouldn't be any fun otherwise. We'll get to things like resolving the mystery of Seijuro's reappearance in the story in it's proper time.