Ruroni Ranko
Chapter Four

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 private baths of the Mirror Mansion were rich and luxurious, and very, very big. Built for a prosperous trading family for their own use they were, like everything else in that manor, elegant to the point of extravagance. On that account, it was a great deal like the Chardin home, opulent and western on a huge scale.

Going up to the bathroom attached to the suite she'd been assigned for the night, Ranko led her mirror double into the lavishly decorated bath chamber, to the side with the rinsing area, toilets and sinks rather than the hot tub the size of a small pool (which they wouldn't have time to use, because of the rush to search for Ukyo's double). There she filled a bucket with hot water, and splashed both herself and her double.

Leaving one male Ranma and one girl copy in that room.

"She didn't turn back in hot water?" the original mused. "Of course, since I was female when that mirror caught me, and it doesn't copy other magic, this copy has no curse. So she will always be a girl! Still, it feels weird to be embarrassed by my own female body. But then, what isn't weird about this?"

"Oh, you nasty boy!" she poked him in joy. "Why didn't you just tell me you were a guy all along?" the copy gazed adoringly on him, eyes glinting and face alight with joy. "You are the son that my father-in-law offered to marry me to, am I right?"

"Uhm, yah."

"YAAAYY!!" the original was treated to an enthusiastic glomp by his double, when both paused, having heard splashes from the other half of the room, the bath area behind a rolling translucent screen.

Looking at each other, the copy-Ranko cuddled into the original's side as he slipped open the divider to see what made that noise. Peeking through, they saw a glorious wealth of brown hair spread out over a tub simply mountainous with white foam.

Mirror-Ukyo turned her head in the bath, smiling brilliantly for her Ranchan.

"Ranchan, where have you been? I've been... waiting for you, to come and take care of me... personally." she managed to give an ordinary-sounding sentence a sensual thrill as she lifted a long, bare leg out of the water, decorated with fluffy white bubbles from the soapy tub.

"..? ..b.. but you... aren't supposed to put soap in the furo..." the stunned brain of the poor martial artist grasped upon whatever thread it could of this situation that made any sort of sense.

"Silly." Ukyo's double rose her full length out of the tub, naked but for soap bubbles to her Ranchan's view. Her own gaze was particularly melting and intense as she hungrily devoured him with her eyes. "We were going to have to clean the furo anyway."

There came a sound of slithering silk and Ranma glanced behind to see that Copy-Ranko had discarded her own garments, a peculiar gleam to her eye.

He gulped and told himself not to panic.

Moments later, Ukyo and Seijuro, waiting for Ranma to rejoin them as a male, were treated to the sight of him standing on the balcony above the entranceway, suds decorating his clothes, as he attempted to speak in spite of a monstrous blush. "Um, I kinda found copy-Ukyo. She's in my room."

Some twittering laughter came from the open door behind the boy, the one leading to his suite of rooms, and he blushed harder. Swallowing with difficulty, he fought to stay calm, as he said, "Anyway, could you send the real Ukyo up? I figured since she is my second wife, she ought to go first, if I'm going to be taking them in any kind of order."

In an instant, his blushing ninja bride was up the steps, placing a dainty kiss on the side of his face. "You're so sweet, Ranchan."

Seijuro permitted himself to smile on this scene. Turning away to go back into the mansion, sword slung casually over his shoulder, no longer ready for immediate use, he spoke as he departed to find the room where they'd laid the ailing old man, "Since those two young ladies are going to be with us for quite some time I have decided to name them. They shall be Miranko - short for "Mirror-Ranko", and Miukyo - short for "Mirror-Ukyo". Do be good and tell them their new names before you take them as new brides, and that I grant them my approval to marry you, effective at once."

"Yah, um... about that," the iron nerves of the younger samurai faltered in the face of this totally unfamiliar situation.

But his master had already disappeared into the darkness at the heart of the unlit mansion. Giggling, Ukyo tugged on his arm, drawing him back into his room. There, Miranko was dancing about, twirling in joy and wearing nothing but a filmy nightgown and modest but flattering underwear that could be seen plainly through that billowy outer material, her flowing red hair and sapphire eyes alight with glamour-sparkles as the two originals entered.

Hearing the ninja currently hanging onto his arm chortle, Ranma gazed down on his oldest, best friend in curiosity, to see she was looking at Miranko.

Thankfully, Ukyo explained, "Sorry Ranchan, just thinking about 'flame-haired Ranko'. It is just so funny that Ranma, man amongst men, has become the peak of sensuality and role model for desirability among woman in Japan."

"Actually," Miukyo joined them, walking with a sensual roll of her hips that had her soon to be lover blushing furiously. This was not helped by the fact that her frilly outfit was hardly there, a very brief set of shorts and top that managed to draw attention to what little they did conceal. "I think of Ranma-honey as the world's handsomest guy."

"Me too! Me too!" Miranko grabbed his other side, positively radiating joy, her face alight with love. "I only wish I could go first!"

The amount of love in that request would have melted a lesser man.

Instead, Ranma sweatdropped. "True, you're attractive. But no matter how cute and sexy with perfect proportions, I can't treat any of you unfairly or we'll all be unhappy. And so..."

He stared at the two Ukyos, standing there desperate for a matching compliment. Everyone sweatdropped as he waited increasingly long seconds.

Finally, he broke out into a wide grin, taking all three of those girls into his arms. "Here I am, surrounded by the three most beautiful woman in Japan! I can't believe they each want me! My cute fiancee has now become my cute wife! And her mirror-double as well! It's like this is too good to actually be happening!"

Everyone sweatdropped at that comment, imagining themselves waking up in bed, alone, to discover this had all been just a dream.

Ukyo broke the tension with a giggle. "Still, good ol' clumsy Ranchan." She raised her head to kiss him, then began drawing that group toward the large, plush bed. "C'mon, Ranchan. You'll learn how to use the right words in time. For now, just kiss us."

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A night passed, and dawn's rosy light was just gracing the horizon as the 13th master of Hiten Mitsurugi was just having his morning tea. On his table was a book, detailing some of the many secrets of the Mirror Mansion, out of a library of similar tomes that the old caretaker had shown him. He had been reading it long into the evening.

"Secret reports are unnecessary," Seijuro calmly told the shadow crouched in the entrance to the chamber he was in. "I trust my son and do not need to spy on him."

Ukyo stood and emerged from the shadows. "I know. It's just this is about Ranchan and I think he'd find it embarrassing if we were to discuss it in front of him."

Seijuro nodded. This was not a spy report, it was a father-daughter talk. "Speak, then. How did your wedding night go?"

The chef made a slight shrug, coupled with a nervous smile. "Snuggles and making out were as far as we got. I don't believe Ranchan actually knows what to do with a bride."

"I trust you three will teach him appropriately."

"I believe it may go deeper than that," Ukyo warned, informing him. "We girls tried, but there's something off with his chi flows. There was enough forbidden flesh on display there, and enough touching and feeling going on, that if he were capable of a natural reaction it would have happened, and we girls would have gone from there."

The pretty ninja sighed. "I don't know what happened in Ranchan's past. He's never spoken of it much. But I suspect his good-for-nothing teacher Genma did something to him to keep him focused on martial arts, possibly permanently blocking off his physical desires. For all the time I've known Ranchan he's displayed all of the sex drive of a wet dishrag, so this is not something new, just more obvious and evident. It's as though he has no ability to feel sexual desires or pleasures at all, and is just being nice to us doing kissing. Actually, since Miranko doesn't share his disinterest or inability, there's probably some magic involved in making Ranchan the way he is."

Seijuro stood in one smooth but menacing motion, for even those that didn't know him there was no mistaking that a predator, a killer, was now on the prowl. "You did well to bring this to me. I shall go discuss this with that Genma person. You may come along if you wish."

Ukyo nodded. "I will."

"How are the others doing?" the master asked as they walked together out of the mansion.

"They're totally devoted to Ranchan. It's sweet. Even I don't dote on him that much. I don't know if Shampoo does, but she would certainly try. Whatever this 'love starved copy' thing is with the mirror clones, they're certainly willing to be loyal once accepted."

"That is good to hear," the father-in-law gave his daughter an affectionate pat on the back, before they wordlessly started out for the Tendo dojo.

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From where he had been removed to, after his accident at the Tendo dojo, Tatewaki Kuno sat upon a stool in the yard of his family's grand and noble estate, gazing out upon the cherry blossoms, specifically imported and glued to every tree (even the evergreens) for this moment of poignant agony.

Yes, he had just chosen to read his worn, dog-eared copy of 'Ranko and Hideki, a romantic tragedy' once again.

Crying tears of manly suffering for his fellow samurai, who was so cruelly denied the warmth of affection so obviously offered him by the legendary flame-haired Ranko, Kuno clenched a fist yet raised a stoic face to the unencumbered heavens above him, unmindful of the rivers of tears flowing down each cheek as he felt for his ancient brother. The grass beneath his chair was watered by the rain of his tears as once again he came to that most bitter of ends, where the maiden, after escaping those twin demons who held her bound and tenderly confessing her love to the young samurai, was once again hauled off by the returning foes from hell, who breached the castle, breathing clouds of noxious poison from their nostrils to incapacitate the guards and consuming those who dared to resist them with fire balls from their eyes.

No, not even the manly resistance of the stoic samurai Hideki, who faced them with bravery Tatewaki could only hope to emulate, could pause the advance of those two fiends from the darkest hell.

Once more, sniffling and lips trembling in shared agony with his ancient brother, Kuno read that last, tender scene, where the flame haired maiden gave one, last, loving caress of Hideki's brow before those demons effortlessly hauled her away, their demented ravings not enough to silence that final, poetic call from her perfect lips, before Ranko disappeared to return to ignoble service in that hell where they kept her bound.

Tatewaki, upon reaching that tragic end, once again burst out into loud wails and sobs, thinking nothing less of himself for so doing, for so had Hideki before him.

From her balcony, Kodachi watched this pathetic sight and once again felt the bitter surge of jealousy, that all men, even her own brother, should be so moved by a vision of female loveliness - a vision that she herself could not hope to equal.

For she, like virtually all Japanese women, were cursed with the dark hair and slender bodies of their race, not the voluptuous curves and fiery mane that enticed the spirits of their men so. It was the curse of samurai houses since the Meiji that their women despaired of their breeding denying them the very features that their men looked for and craved.

Kodachi had no desires on her brother. He was nothing more than an example of the power of those, like the pigtailed girl, who were blessed with those rarest of features. Her lips squirmed into a frown of jealousy over that power, and her own helplessness to acquire it over a simple act of genetics.

How could she not hate Ranko for being perfect? Especially when she, herself, could not be?

She was about to step away from the balcony when Sasuke, their ninja manservant, appeared to interrupt Tatewaki's wailing over misery shared with his ancient samurai brother at the end of his reading - against strict orders. Curiosity kept her nearby, as the little retainer dared much in imposing himself whilst her brother was thus drunken with sorrows. Perhaps not quite so great as his punishments would be if he'd interrupted a session of 'Kyubi and Ranko' or, that ever entrancing classic, 'Rumitsu's Journey' wherein the hero travels across the country, joining in epic battles one after another, fighting demons and oni for glimpses of the flame-haired maiden, but worse than if he'd dared interrupting during any of the fifty or so lesser works her brother was known to read.

Personally, she far preferred the 'Tales of Hiko' which were about a wandering family of samurai, going about doing good and fighting the supernatural. For, while they had a red haired wench in it, she didn't go about seducing every noble in the vicinity as they traveled.

Hmm, that reminded her, a televised serial version of 'The Demon's Captive', which was actually better than the books, was due to be rebroadcast again next week, and while a flame-haired Ranko tale, the son of the elder demon who held the fiery tressed Ranko captive actually bore quite a resemblance to her Ranma-sama. Not as good, of course, but she'd have to recall to tell Sasuke to record that marathon all the same.

Kodachi's lips drew together as she saw her suspicions confirmed. Tatewaki did not punish the lowly ninja who'd imposed upon his grief-filled solitude. She leap off her balcony to discover what this news was.

Hmm, it involved pictures. Approaching swiftly, she seized one with her ribbon, and fell to her knees with horror at beholding the central figure of the simple shopping scene displayed there. Her! Her! Her rival for Ranma-sama's affections... had... had!

"How DARE she look that good in a kimono!!!" Kodachi raised to her feet and cried.

With a peaceful face, Tatewaki Kuno gazed soulfully and poetically up to the sky. "Verily, like a butterfly emerging glorious and beautiful from her cocoon, has my tree-borne kettle girl of the scarlet pigtail become like unto a Flame Haired Ranko, in truth."

Swooning dramatically to one side, Kodachi sobbed, thumping the ground feebly with her fist, "Now she looks identical to the legendary flame haired maid." Sobbing up to the heavens, she cried, "How is a simple girl of ordinary colors and proportions to compete with that?!?!"

Rising over his sister, who was now lying prostrate in misery, her sobs filling the air that had once echoed to his, Tatewaki stood in calm and collected majesty. "Come Sasuke, we must prepare a celebration for this day, an event unseen since the Meiji, since the steps of a flame-haired beauty once again cause the very earth to sing out joy and praises to her illustrious name! A time for great deeds and greater romance lies upon us, and we must be prepared to alert every man on earth to the glory of her presence!!"

He lowered his bokken from 'declaration pose', and spoke more softly, but intensely to his sword, "Then, will all men speak in joy and rapture of the glory of the great Tatewaki Kuno, and the prize that I have won!"

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"So, you are flame-haired Ranko?" her own mirror double approached her, glittering. "So that would mean that was our face on this book?"

Miranko held out a copy of 'Ranko and Hideki, a romantic tragedy' she'd taken off the shelves of the mansion's library.

"Hideki?" Ranko stared at the woodcut, at the two figures on it, before tossing the book away. "I remember that guy. He was a whiny little brat who had too much privilege and attention and too little responsibility. He couldn't have been more than fourteen when his retainers kidnapped me for him. So I told him how much I hated him and smacked him a good blow to the head before I escaped. He bawled like a baby and made me think even less of him over throwing a tantrum like that. That was one of those times that my father was coming in the front door as Ranma fought his way out."

Yes, even speaking of herself, in private, to those closest to her, Ranko had been conditioned by avoiding the seemingly omnipresent ears of ninja to refer to acts done by her male side as though done by another person.

It was just safer that way.

Miranko's face screwed up prettily in thought. "Hm. He must have written down a different version," she said, as she replaced the book on a shelf.

"If you find any references to demons, ignore those. Just like Kuno nowadays calls Ranma a 'foul sorcerer', all kinds of screwballs back then called him and my father demons when they broke in to rescue me. Also, any romantic garbage is pure trash. Just about every freak back then imagined he was in love with me, and that I returned those affections. What's worse, they dictated chronicles, and commissioned plays, paintings, the whole nine-yards, all showing their point of view. You can't imagine how embarrassing that was."

The two mirror-duplicates blinked in wordless surprise.

"So," Ranko sat pertly down, facing the two mirror clones, herself and Ukyo's. "Let's do a bit of girl-talk. Ranma has to date some people today. What are the kinds of things he ought to do?"

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Soun was just brushing his teeth, gazing out over his yard, when a touch of motion flashed by. Mistaking it for the motion created by the morning light casting and recasting shadows, the father of three thought nothing of it, and went to rinse out his mouth.

When he returned he seated himself at the head of his table, back to the greenery of his back yard. However, as he was reaching for the paper, something flew by and struck him on the back of the head, knocking him out and prone.

In an instant, wires flashed out from around corners and attached themselves to his wrists and ankles, body, head and other areas. Somewhat jerkily those first few moments, the unconscious man sat up and claimed his paper, now a marionette under control of the person behind those near-invisible strings.

Moments later the family came down: Nabiki still sleepy and in her pajamas, Akane in her school uniform but with bandages covering her face, and Soun's old best friend, Genma. The group waited in something approaching silence those seconds until Kasumi announced that breakfast was ready by bringing out the dishes.

Putting down his paper, the Soun-puppet turned to his friend while his eldest was serving the rice and asked, "Saotome, I've been thinking. What we need to recapture your son is a trap."

"Excellent idea, Tendo!" Genma shouted boisterously, unaware that his friend's voice had been mimicked and was coming from around the eaves instead of his buddy, who sat there beside him. "We're lure him in and take away that sword, then we'll call in a priest and our legacy will be secure!"

Soun nodded, the motion just a touch unnatural as the wires stretched and tightened, permitting the head to bob up and down. "Precisely. However, what concerns me is the bait, and I was thinking of using one of my daughters in the same sort of trap we might use to catch the Master. What do you think?"

Genma scowled, rubbing his chin, as Akane steamed beside them. "Wouldn't work, Tendo. As good an idea as that is, there's no way that Ranma would fall for it. Back when he was ten years old I took him high up into the mountains to a Buddhist monastery. Their martial arts were nothing significant. However, by pretending to enroll my son as a monk, I was able to ensure that they used their secret celibacy rituals to ensure that he'd never be another man like our Master. From that day he's never had the slightest curiosity about sex." He slammed a fist into his palm in recognition, an idiotic grin upon his face. "I'd forgotten all about that until now."

As the daughters looked on in various degrees of horror, Soun's head once again bobbed in a slightly awkward nod, and a voice like his asked, "But my friend, if that's the case how is he going to marry one of my girls to carry on the school? And your wife? How is he going to give her grandchildren?"

Genma froze in a ritual pose of Idiocy Revealed. After a heartbeat, he shook himself out of it and laughed, rubbing the back of his head in shame with one hand while the other stole rice from Soun. "You know, Tendo? I never thought of that!"

Mass facefault of everyone but the wire-controlled puppet. Even the wires went slack for a moment as the ninja controlling them smacked hard against the roof tiles. But the unconscious father of three didn't sag much before control got reestablished.

"You mean, all this time Akane's been treating Ranma like a hormone-driven pervert and he has NO SEX DRIVE AT ALL?!?!" Nabiki shouted, shock bringing her fully awake.

"None!" Genma agreed, still rubbing his bald head and grinning like the idiot he was. "From what the monks said, he's not even capable of forming a sexual thought! I even got out of informing him of the Birds and the Bees, as he's unable to discern any difference between boys and girls! Gender is completely below notice to him! He doesn't care at all!"

The imbecile laughed loudly after bragging about that last part, his left hand continuing to steal rice from Soun's bowl, sneaking it into his mouth between gales of laughter.

"Oh my, so not only was Akane performing adultery, but she was accusing Ranma of being a pervert when that's not possible. She was punishing him for crimes he couldn't possibly have committed, as he is a complete innocent." The eldest stopped serving rice to blink several times in shock. After blinking, she declared, "And her attempt to get Ranma jealous by sleeping with his rival was doomed to failure from the start, as he simply couldn't get those kind of reactions, because he had no desire for anyone in the first place."

Genma got flattened by a table, his chopsticks breaking, and Akane went to stomp back up to her room, fists clenched by her sides. Then, as tears began to flow, she broke and ran, hoping to get to a cloth before they got under her bandages again.

"Saotome," Soun's voice growled in anger, although his face was strangely slack. "I think you've overlooked something. How is your son going to marry my daughter and carry on the dojo if he has no desire to get married in the first place!?!"

The oddly mimicked rictus of anger on his friend's face didn't scare him any less for the fact that it was a poor copy. Genma cowered behind his arms, cringing, "But Tendo! If I recall right, there was a big brothel in the village outside that monastery! They had monks visit there! So there must be a counter for the technique!"

The expression of fearsome stoicism was much better copied, as puppet-Soun faced his oldest friend, and in a firm, clear voice of barely controlled anger declared, "Then until you return here with it, you are no longer welcome in this house."

Genma stared, flabbergasted, at Soun, before bowing his head, and in a tone of defeat, accepting, "Very well, old friend. I understand." Then he went upstairs, got his pack, and left out the front door without speaking or looking at anyone, a rare expression of firm determination on his face.

Soun twitched, and the wires withdrew in a snap, leaving the mustached man there blinking around, then looking down at his empty breakfast dish and the two other vacated places. Turning to his remaining two daughters in confusion, he asked, "Where is Akane? And Saotome? And what happened to my rice?"

Both girls facefaulted.

Their father rubbed his chin, then wondered why his face was sore.

Outside, Genma Saotome shouldered his heavy pack and began his weary march, leaping from housetop to housetop toward the mountains he remembered, unaware that he was followed by two figures, both careful to keep themselves concealed from him.

Behind him, at what they felt was a safe distance, Seijuro and Ukyo followed.

"I am pleased, although your scowl was unconvincing." Seijuro commented as they went, always careful to keep the fat fool in front of them in sight.

"You have any idea how hard a scowl is to do? To get any control of expressions at all you've first got to work some wires into the sides of the face, then hook them on muscles inside. That takes some careful doing. Then, smiles are easy, you don't have to twitch much to get a grinning loon. Demented, deranged or crazy are all easy. But a truly realistic scowl is among the hardest of faces to do like that. My teacher said that's probably one reason why samurai back then frown so much. So their friends will know if they're looking at someone under a puppet technique."

"Often, daughter, the hard things are those most worth doing well."

"Ok," sigh. "They told me there was a trick to it, but that was one of those things they never got around to showing me."

"Then, daughter, you must discover it yourself."

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Meanwhile, in another part of Tokyo, a different breakfast was happening. A cry of distress was heard from a certain maiden who loved her sleep.

"Ahh! I'm late!"

Stomp, stomp, stomp, he feet came down the stairs, after having dressed in a rush. "Mom! Why didn't you wake me up in time for the first bell?"

The kind hearted mother in the kitchen replied, "I did Serena, three times, and each time you told me you were getting up 'right away'."

"And you believed me?" the girl asked in a perplexed tone.

"Serena, aren't you forgetting something?" Her mother held up a wrapped lunch.

"Oh, yah. Thanks mom!" Scarfing a few pieces of toast down in a rush, and taking two more to eat on the way, Serena grabbed her lunch and bag and bowed quickly to her mother before rocketing off down the street, leaving a cloud of brown dust behind.

"Hello Serena," Amy met her inside of the school gate, where the twin-ponytailed blonde collapsed and started to breathe after her very long run. Her genius friend went on, sprouting a big smile. "I'm so excited! I've never been on a date before. I find I am quite looking forward to it. I even brought a change of clothes, so I can change after school. How about you?"

"A DATE!?" Serena shrieked out at the top of her lungs, inadvertently drawing the attention of the entire school. "OMIGAWD! I FORGOT!"

"Serena!" Molly appeared by her side, hands clasped before her in girlish joy. "What's this I hear about a date? Did you find some guy you like?"

"Yah!" Melvin, the school nerd, appeared beside them. "How is it that you found a date when I still can't get one? I know you're beautiful, but you have low grades, and you're a shop-aholic!"

"Uh.." Serena desperately sweatdropped, before her finger lashed out almost of its own volition to jab a point at Amy. "It's not me. AMY! She's the one that has a date. Hehe."

"Yes, that's true. I do have a date scheduled for later today. Now, if you'll excuse me, we should all be moving on to class right about now." The blue haired genius bowed and excused herself to go walk toward the classroom.

"Wait up! I'll go with you!" Serena dashed off.

Meanwhile, behind them, the school gossip mill began to run.

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Three girls and one ancient caretaker were all sitting down to a big breakfast those same ladies had just prepared when Ranko got a stitch of curiosity.

"Hey, old man. You said that mirror creates a perfect copy, right? Then how is it that Miukyo-chan here is so like Ucchan that I can't tell them apart, but my clone is like a different person?"

The old caretaker stared with rheumy eyes out at the pair of personified images of the girl he'd fantasized about when he was a youth. Guilt made him blurt out information, as he was desperate to change the subject, "Oh? Well, let's see. Oh! That's right, you're father told me when we were discussing the mirror last night that you've got a curse that turns you into a boy? Well, that's magic right there! Our mirror can't copy that, but it always tries to make a perfect reflection. So the copy sitting next to you is more the 'outward you', what you might have been like if you'd truly been born a girl. As such, you're just a bit strangers to each other. Call yourselves kissing cousins!"

The old man laughed at his feeble joke.

"So, because he's got a Jusenkyo curse, anything unique to Ranchan's boy side didn't get copied? That makes sense, I guess." Miukyo sat down to a fresh plate of breakfast okanomiyaki. "And, if you eliminate the masculine perspective, most of what makes him up wouldn't copy. So the personalities and memories are different. I get it."

Ranma started nodding, caring nothing for the pot of hot water that Miranko poured over his head, before she started snuggling onto his side. "So I get that. My next problem is, how am I going to take at least three, possibly six, girls on dates today?"

The old caretaker, whose glasses had fogged, stared blindly around the table. "Well, with your father being the new Caretaker and all, I suppose that I could offer you a bit of help there. We've got a few special artifacts in the basement. One of those is a mirror of dreams. Once you look in its surface, it draws you in and spits out eight nearly identical copies. While an original sleeps inside of that mirror, he can control and sense his copies. See?"

Looking up, shocked, at the eight-sided mirror than the old guy pulled out of his robes, Ranma was suddenly drawn in, and his sleeping image appeared on the face, while the breakfast nook was suddenly crowded with eight more of him.

"But it's got several problems," the old man shook his head sadly, as if his warnings had once more been disobeyed rather than him getting his kicks out of using mirrors on people. "For one, because you're dreaming you aren't exactly on your best behavior. It isn't your conscious mind doing the thinking, only your impulses, as your mind thinks it's just a dream. Second, the copies are pretty fragile." The old man flicked a chopstick at one and it vanished, disappearing in a flash of refractive glare and leaving them with seven. "So they can't fight worth a darn, and don't do heavy lifting very well."

"Last," the old man chuckled. "They feel real enough to others, but nothing they do is really going to affect the one doing it. So, even if they eat a mountain of food, you could still starve to death inside the mirror."

"You jackass!" Miukyo came up, grabbing ahold of the caretaker's shirt front to haul him to his feet. "Why did you do that? How do we get Ranchan out of there?"

"Relax, he'll reappear around sundown. It's just not an object you want to use too much," the old man soothed the irate chef. "One of our caretakers used this to hold down seven night jobs and go out on the town carousing each evening on the money he made. But that sort of abuse is irresponsible at best."

"Which caretaker was it?" One of the Ranma doubles asked, not one of those currently snuggling with Miranko or calming down Miukyo.

"Hehehe," the old man laughed nervously. "Well, it was me, to be honest. But I just don't like to admit that. It gives a bad impression to our guests." He cackled, then snorted. "The worst part about using this thing is the eating and drinking part. You can't get drunk in a dream body, and don't think I haven't tried! Silly little flimsy things just evaporate into glare if you take even a sip. No constitution at all!"

His audience sweatdropped as he continued to cackle loudly and proudly.

"So Ranchan," Miukyo addressed one of the two Ranmas now holding her. "He does bring up an important point. Money. How are you going to pay for all the things you plan to do with us girls on our dates?"

At that moment, a tiny handkerchief floated over to them on a breeze, blown in through an open window. On it was a print of a topless Ranko unaware of the camera and wearing nothing but boxer shorts. A memento of her Tendo dojo days.

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Author's Notes:
Foreshadowing? Me? Nah! Who are you thinking of?

You realize that it's taking me far longer than I'd suspected to go back in time and do stuff during the Meiji. But oh well. I hope you are all enjoying the ride.

I'd almost gone ahead and introduced how Seijuro had traveled through time, but that got shoved ahead to a future chapter, I guess. I'd say it's the next one, but that's what I'd thought about this one. So who knows?