It had not been too long before Ranma found himself settled into a pleasant, relatively speaking, routine. He would get up in the morning, usually about five minutes or so before his father, and carefully sneak out of the guest room after placing a straw-filled dummy under his covers. His father, displaying his boundless ability to learn from his mistakes, continued to mistake the dummy for Ranma, tossing it out the window before following close behind. It would have been quite entertaining, had the way Genma continually miscalculated his own capability in comparison to his sons leading to his falling into the koi pond not been so... pathetic.
School wasn't too much trouble, minus the fact he needed to deal with Kuno in mornings, something Amaya assured him wasn't too surprising, no matter how irritating it might be. After Kuno had dredged himself out of the school pool he had apparently sworn that he would have his revenge for his 'most unjust' defeat at Ranma's hands. That in and of itself would have hardly caused Ranma any major concern, but after the third consecutive morning of fighting him off, and the first morning in which he brought out live steel, the small amount of patience Ranma had for his antics vanished. After that, he took to entering the grounds via various other routes, such as over the walls or in the crowds while using his female form's ability to disguise itself, something he was incredibly thankful for.
That was another thing that was slowly beginning to worry the martial artist; his growing lack of objections and discomfort to spending time in his female form. He had only had it less than a week and he had already begun to think of it as simply another skill he could use instead of a crippling curse, and that week had been well over four and half months ago. Now he didn't even think of it as a skill, instead it had become almost second-nature for him to spill some water onto himself and slip into another form for one reason or another, such as slipping away from pursuers, or scamming free food from the vendors in the market, or any variety of other reasons.
He had asked Amaya about it once, his worries over losing himself rising to the fore, but she had shrugged and muttered something cryptic about it simply being the nature of the beast.
And that more than anything terrified him to his bones. The thought that his own core sense of self was slowly being forced to mutate into something foreign was shocking, but he realized that in a way, it was his own mind, body, and soul holding true to the core principles of his school; adaptation and incorporation. The fact that he was doing it subconsciously was a testament to how seriously he took his art, though for the first time he occasionally wished that wasn't the case.
Ranma pushed on regardless, unwilling to let something, anything, keep down for more than a short period of time. There was no time to dwell on the unfortunate parts of life when you were trying to make something of your life; if you always focused on the just the negative then you would never find pleasure in your accomplishments, or so an old monk had once told him.
Today was a Friday, which meant, for Ranma at least, that it was the last day in the week that he would have to worry about Kuno. Unfortunately that also meant that the self-styled Kendo master would be pulling out all the stops, knowing just as Ranma did that they would be able to recover over the weekend. Of course, Ranma would need far less time to recover than Kuno would, thanks to his training and Amaya, but as Ranma usually used the weekend to work on assignments for school as well as continuing his training, he usually spent enough energy that by the time Monday arrived the two would be back on equal footing once more.
Ranma walked leisurely towards the school, his book-bag slung over his shoulder, whistling a light tune in the air as he casually walked past the Laddle Lady, watching her go about her daily routine from the other side of the street. While he didn't seem to be struck by water as much as he used to be, it seemed that his growing acceptance of Amaya, and the changes she was causing his personality, served to dampen the water attracting aspect of the curse. If Amaya was right and the curse was designed to teach its victim's lessons by forcing them to spend time in their cursed form, then he had little doubt that soon enough he wouldn't have to worry about accidentally getting hit by water.
He saw the school gates before him, and just beyond was the ready form of Kuno, hand on hilt as he awaited his 'heavenly rival'. Ranma snorted in amusement. It wouldn't do to keep people waiting, with a crowd of students gathered in anticipation of what was usually the highlight of their mornings, and he wanted to finish it as soon as possible so he could get on with everything. He stepped into the schoolyard and strode towards Kuno, his eyes drifting up to catch the time. He grimaced, with class starting in less than five minutes, he didn't want to be late and disappoint his homeroom teacher. Where the school had found a guy like him, Ranma would never know, but considering what he could tell from the teacher's movements, he wanted to avoid antagonizing him at all costs. His eyes focused on Kuno as he hefted his book bag considerably in his hand before hurling it upwards. Kuno's eyes followed the object skywards, returning back to earth just in time for him to catch sight of Ranma's fist as it slammed into his face.
Ranma paused to make sure that Kuno wasn't about to get back up, though considering the amount of force it must have taken for the Kendo captain to be embedded three feet into the ground, his recovery wasn't likely to be anytime soon. He chuckled quietly to himself; he hadn't even used the full force available to him in that blow, and he was reasonably sure that if he went all out, the delusional teen wouldn't be getting back up.
Ever.
His arm stretched out and he gently caught his book bag before it hit the ground. The students around him were silent, even Nabiki having paused from gathering her winnings to stare. His first meeting with Kuno had ended up lasting over two minutes until it began to rain, and he had just defeated the Kendo captain with a single move in less than ten seconds. His victory had been so easily obtained that it was almost worth spending a moment to rub in Kuno's unconscious face. Of course doing that would just be tempting fate, and if there was one thing he had learned from reading manga - usually swiped from convenience stores while he was gathering food during the his journey with his father - it was that opponents always seemed to get back on their feet the moment someone began to gloat or monologue.
Instead he simply walked past Kuno and into the school, the crowd behind him surging into motion as the school bell chimed the beginning of class. He was, to no surprise, the first one to class, and he spared a couple seconds after placing his bag on his desk to chat with the new homeroom and history teacher. Ranma had been disappointed to find out that Takeda-sensei was retiring only a week after his arrival, yet another victim to the high-stress work environment that was Furinkan High. The man they had hired to replace him, a Souichirou Kuzuki from Fuyuki City, was just as knowledgeable about the which he taught, but in direct contrast the rather boisterous Takeda, Kuzuki was a cold and unflapable, even after having met with both Kuno and Ranma on his first day. That meeting had done a great deal in earning Ranma's respect, and afterwards he was much more willing to pay attention, even beyond what he had given the previous history teacher.
While he seemed for the most parts a mere history teacher, there was no doubt in Ranma's mind that Kuzuki-sensei was more that what he appeared. He had seen him move, and there was no possible way for someone to gain such an economy of motion and easy grace without having spent decades of devoted training. There was also the way he had managed to knock out Kuno when the teen had accosted the teacher during one of indiscriminant tirades; Ranma had seen a blur of movement and then the Kendo captain had fallen forwards, knocked out cold. Even though he seemed unapproachable, he was actually rather friendly, if one could get past the seriousness with which he spoke. He often spent his time in the mornings waiting for the rest of the students to arrive discussing their latest history lesson, on the Genpei war, its causes and legacy, and Ranma was pleased to find that the stoic teacher seemed to appreciate his interest.
The last of the students, Akane as usual, arrived and Ranma was waved off to take his seat. If he noticed the smoldering glares being sent at the back of his head by the youngest Tendo, then he did not make any visible sign of it. From what he had gathered, through overheard snippets of conversing students as they arrived to class, Kuno had managed to get back on his feet far faster than Ranma would have thought him capable of, and the upper classman had immediately set himself against the just-arriving Akane.
She had beaten him as well, due in part to the substantial injuries he had taken from Ranma's blow, and she had just barely made it to class before she was late. If there was one thing all the students of Furinkan could agree, Kuno included, it was that being late to Kuzuki-sensei's class was the equivalent of handing yourself over to the Shinigami.
Ranma turned his eyes towards Akane and gave her a flat look. She flinched back and hastily poured her attention into her text book. He smiled as her returned his own focus to where Kazuki-sensei was beginning roll-call. It had taken him a little over a week, but he had firmly established the fact that he would not allow Akane to run roughshod over him like she did most everyone else; he had far too much self-respect - and muted arrogance - that the first few times she had tried to do so, she had met with exceedingly heavy resistance.
His face out of her sight, Ranma allowed his customary smug grin onto his face. For some reason he couldn't quite put his finger on, he found pushing the youngest Tendo's buttons to be oddly satisfying. He debated about asking Amaya if she knew something about his past-life, some memory or series of events that might have involved the self-proclaimed best martial artist of Nerima - pre-Ranma of course. Of course the fact that having her tell him anything would probably include future events that had yet to occur, he decided not to; he wanted life to be a challenge, and being told how everything was going to unfold seemed way too much like cheating.
Besides, what's life without its surprises?
The kitchen of the Tendo home. It was not overly large, containing a gas stove and oven, a sink, and a counter against the outwards wall, but it was Kasumi's domain, and there were none that dared contest that fact. Akane would argue that she deserved to be able to use the kitchen as well, but it hadn't been too hard too dissuade her of that course of action; all it had taken was Kasumi borrowing one of her mother's techniques to make her crumble and swear off making her own food.
A shrill whistle filled the air as steam began to vent from the kettle over the stove-top, Kasumi darting over to remove it from the heat before turning off the burner. She hummed a wordless melody as she added the tea mix to the water, returning to preparing the snacks for her father and his guest while they played their game of Shogi.
A sigh escaped her lips at the thought of her fiance's father. While she didn't have anything to hold against him -yet- something about Genma Saotome just didn't sit well with her. She was glad to have found that he had gotten himself a job as Dr. Tofu's assistant. At the very least that made him much better than her unreliable and generally useless uncle. She smiled as she pulled out a small plate rice-balls she had leftover from making her sisters', and Ranma's, bento boxes; she wondered sometimes, about just how many rather inept friends her father had, and just how he had managed to catch the eye of a woman like her mother the kamis alone knew.
And just like that her good mood was gone, her smile vanishing from her face to be replaced by a somber and contemplative expression. It was times likes these that she missed her mother. She surely would have been disappointed with the piteous wreck her husband had become after she passed, Kasumi certainly felt hurt more often than not by the way he had placed all her mother's duties on her shoulders. And then the man had the gall to tell her that she couldn't continue studying the Art like Akane, telling her that she would be too busy to properly practice and train when he hadn't taught a proper lesson in well over a decade. If she hadn't found her mother's scroll, she simply didn't know how she would have turned out, if she would have retained her sanity or spirit, or if her will would have been subsumed by her duty to her family.
Duty. Such a small word. Only four letters in the English language, and yet it could bring down even the strongest, it could render even the most free of spirits unto chains, and it was something that she knew all too well. Maybe it was duty that had made her accept the engagement when it was offered, but it was not duty to her father that had driven her to do so; rather it was her duty to the memory of her mother, and her last wishes to see her darling daughter become all she could be that did so. Kasumi held no illusions about the reality of life around her, no matter what the oblivious facade she bore around her family might lead people to believe, she knew that her only hopes of escaping the monotonous prison her life had become lay with the cursed young man who had stumbled blindly into her life.
Now that had been a surprise for her; it's not everyday you meet someone with an honest to Amaterasu curse, especially when the person with the curse seems to be such a genuinely nice person, if somewhat rough around the edges. She wasn't too surprised by the fact that magic existed, she actually knew for a fact that, as her English teacher had put it,"There are more things in heaven and earth Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."
Kasumi raised a hand to her mouth to stifle the giggle that threatened to escape. If she had spoken something like that aloud her sister would have probably had a heart-attack, considering that brute who went to her school had decided to adopt the archaic mannerisms of the Samurai of ages gone by, with an additional smattering of ye olde English literature and poetry to add some variety. It was such a shame that for all his professed nobleness and honor that he seemed to have completely missed just about every lesson possible that history taught. Knights and Samurai were supposed to be chivalrous and virtuous warriors, not egotistical children imposing their desires on those they believe to be beneath them, though history contained far too many examples of men of that sort than one would like to think.
She gave her head a shake to clear her thoughts as she realized that she had been staring at the tea kettle for the last fifteen minutes, judging by the clock on the wall, and the tea had surely finished steeping during that time. She quickly poured out several small cups, letting out a small sigh of relief as steam still arose from the hot liquid's surface, and carried out the tea and rice balls for her father and Genma. Her smile was strained as her father gave her a halfhearted wave as she set down the plate next to the Shogi board, Genma reaching forward immediately to begin stuffing his face while her father focused all his attention on his next move, or more likely, another distraction he could use in order to rearrange the board to his liking. Glad as she was to see her father the liveliest he had been in years, she dearly wished that he would at the very least acknowledge her with more than just a vague gesture in her direction, and that someone who truly appreciated her food was eating it instead of a man who simply ate because he wanted to have food in his stomach; someone like Ranma would be perfect.
With wide eyes, she quickly turned on her heel and headed up the stairs and into her room before the fathers could see the growing blush on her face. Where had that come from? She wondered as she closed the door and dropped herself onto her bed, unmindful of the wrinkles the act would cause her clothes. He's nice enough, I mean, he's kind and considerate, he's asked my opinion on things, come to me for advice with his school work and social life, helped me in the kitchen, helped with the laundry, hel-.
Kasumi jolted upright as the implications of her train of though percolated within her mind. Was she really falling for the boy simply because he treated her as an actual person rather than just another part of the house? Could she have really let things slip that far without notice? Looking back into her memories she studied her interactions with her family and came to the depression conclusion that yes, things had devolved around her over the last few years. Her eyes narrowed in anger as she jumped to her feet, stomping over to her closet and retrieving her mother's last gift to her, before heading down to the dojo to vent some of her emotions. Unlike Akane, she had learned long ago that anger clouded the mind and was quite dangerous if left unchecked; of course her sister ignored her warnings entirely, but she had tried to get her to see the error of her ways.
Her eyes were burning -although her face retained its usual serene smile, a trick she had learned from her mother while she was still alive - as she strode through the house like a furious oni-onna, her father taking one glance at her, his eyes meeting hers and widening in abject terror, before ducking outside and out of her sight. Genma gave his old friend a strange look before turning to find what had scared him, his eyes focusing instead on the object grasped tightly in a bone-white hand, his mouth dropping open in shock before quickly following his friend in vacating the premises. Kasumi's smile grew wider and she felt a portion of the fury filling her fade away, while she was still internally raging against the circumstances that she had realized herself to be in, the sight of her father fleeing for his life from his 'saint' of a daughter went a ways to alleviating some of her temper.
Now, where had she put that training dummy of hers? She still had some pent-up emotions left for her to vent.
School ended and the students, like most students anywhere else in world, exited as if they were rats jumping from a sinking ship. The tide of teenaged humanity burst from the door and out into the schoolyard and the streets beyond, slowly breaking up from one large mass into clumps of friends and solitary students, all heading in every which way; some to after school clubs, to friends houses, their own homes, or to offer a challenge to their morning defeater.
Having been going to school for the last month and a half, Ranma had gotten Kuno's schedule for the morning and afternoon just about memorized, mostly where the upperclassman's classroom was, what route he took, and how long it took him to get out of the building. With that knowledge, it was easy for Ranma to leave without being seen by the obsessive kendoist. He'd made it less than half a block before Akane and Nabiki had caught up to him, though he pointedly ignored the latter's attempts to strike up conversation in favor of concentrating on keeping his balance atop the chain link fence.
He was three breaths away from becoming completely zen when Amaya's suddenly spoke up. It had been so long since they had communicated, the last time being just after he had completed a particularly hard math test two weeks earlier, and he almost didn't realize that the voice in his head wasn't his own.
'Jump.' Ranma simply blinked in surprise before he sensed an incoming attack, his surprise momentary as he used the fence as a horizontal springboard, clearing not a moment too soon. A dark man-sized blur dropped down from a nearby rooftop and crushed the fence where Ranma had been standing, the impact causing a large cloud of dust to rise up and obscure the figures form.
The cloud cleared and Ranma was forced to back-flip away from an overhanded strike that would have taken his head off it had connected, instead it smashed into the ground, tearing up shards of asphalt and concrete. Ranma landed in a crouch, his eyes narrowed as he took in his opponent. A good deal of muscles lay beneath the plain black shirt, and considering the damage his blow had caused, it was evident that his strength was equal if not superior to Ranma's, even when he was using his Ki enhancements. His opinion was reinforced as the other teen dropped the umbrella he had used to attack with, the object falling to the ground and raising quite a large cloud of dust on its own.
Something about the other teen's appearance seemed familiar, but Ranma couldn't place it until Amaya spoke up once more. 'Ryoga Hibiki, you knew him in school a few years back. Don't bother,' Ranma closed his mouth before he could greet the other boy as Amaya guessed his train of thought and cut him off. 'He's pretty much devoted the last several years of his life to his anger at some imagined slight of yours and he's hardly one for rational conversation. I suggest you finish this fast, because the longer he fights the more collateral damage he'll cause.'
Ranma frowned, if there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was a martial artist who was indiscriminate with their attacks. In his mind, you didn't deserved to be called a martial artist unless you had control and skill. He didn't consider strength to be paramount to being a good martial artist, not after having met several masters who practiced styles that revolved completely around using skill, speed, or a variety of other factors instead of strength. He had even found one style that revolved entirely around defeating enemies without attacking them, or even physically countering them. The master he had studied under had been so skilled that he was able to react to Ranma's attacks before he had even initiated them. But one thing they all agreed on, though not necessarily with the same words, was that a true martial artist is one able to defeat an opponent without fighting or causing damage, and the best were the ones who could win without their being a battle at all.
It had taken Ranma a while to understand what they meant, but after doing some research on his own at some of the libraries in the towns he and his father passed through - his father distracted with sake or food - he found that they were referring to Sun Tzu's teachings, and reading the Art of War had lead him to read Musashi, which lead him to becoming more interested in history. It was a bit of a shame that he was not a sword style martial artist as most of the techniques from Musashi's school were for the use of katanas, but he still had managed to pick up a few of them. He was tempted to try them out on Ryoga, but most of them he still didn't know well enough to put to actual combat use yet.
Instead, he made an act of slowly standing, his back straight and his head held high as he stared at his opponent with eyes full of painful intent. Ryoga flinched back and almost began to shake as Ranma's Ki filled gaze triggered the natural instinctual fears everyone shared. He began to back away, only to stop as he realized just what he was doing and who he was retreating from; the fear was washed away in an instant by a surge of fury.
"Ranma Saotome," the easily lost teen reached up to his forehead and peeled off one of the countless layers of cloth that wrapped around his head. His face twisted into an angry grimace as he roared at Ranma, "For making my life hell, die!"
Ranma's eyes widened as he watched the bandannas in Ryoga's hand suddenly stiffen up, only his training and a quiet warning from Amaya keeping him from getting decapitated by the sudden barrage of spinning projectiles. Leaning back to let the circular pass over his head, he heard gasps of surprise and shock from all around him. He focused his thoughts on calculating how to defeat Ryoga, now armed with the knowledge that he was able to roughly manipulate his Ki sparing a moment to look around at the crowd that had formed by those curious to the source of the explosion they had heard.
Wait, Ranma thought as his eyes lit up with an idea. Ryoga has to grab more bandannas each time he throws them, and then he has to charge them with Ki, so if he can't grab any... With a joyous grin, Ranma darted forwards. He didn't want to use his Ki enhancement unless absolutely necessary, considering the level of his future opponents according Amaya he needed as many aces in the hole as he could get, but even then his speed was still much greater than it would have been had he not fallen into Amaya's spring. Ryoga began to back up, caught off guard by Ranma's lack of fear or visible surprise and his sudden charge. Cursing under his breath, he reached down and grabbed his dropped umbrella, barely bringing it up into a guard position in time to block Ranma's open palm strike towards his chest.
Ranma smiled and Ryoga's eyes bulged out of their sockets as the attack caused the umbrella to crumple and bend, Ryoga dumping the deformed lead-filled implement as he tried to get some space between him and his opponent in order to pull out more off his bandannas. He only managed to get one off and hardened as Ranma dashed towards him again. His toss was hasty and the lack of preparedness sent it wide, neither Ranma nor Ryoga giving it a moments thought past the point that they were sure it wasn't a threat. Ranma moved in low, well beneath Ryoga's usual striking range, and once he was close enough, put his hands forward and performed an acrobatic backflip, both of his feet slamming Ryoga upside the chin and sending him skywards. Ranma bounced to his feet and leapt towards his opponent, a quick punch sending him tumbling onto a nearby empty roof.
Unfortunately Ranma didn't possess the ability to follow Ryoga's unintentional flight, and he let himself fall back to the ground before leaping onto the wall of a nearby house, using it as a stepping stone to get onto the roof where Ryoga had landed. Ryoga was ready for him, and the moment he set foot on the roof he was nearly taken out of the fight as Ryoga unleashed a wild haymaker towards his chest. Once again Ranma's training came to his rescue as his eyes took in the incoming attack and his hand rose a split-second later, his fingers tapping the back of Ryoga's fist and imparting enough extra energy to cause him to miss, the momentum from his blow carrying him past Ranma as he overextended.
His eyes widened as he was once more forced to experience Ranma's brutal strikes, this time a punishing combination of punches to his torso that ended with an empty palm to the ribs. The attack was so strong it sent him flying backwards, his feet dragging against the roof the only things keeping him from falling over the edge. He shakily got to his feet and stared incredulously at his most hated foe, Ranma twisting his neck side to side as he calmly stood across from Ryoga. Ryoga was heaving in tremendous breaths of air, wincing as his lungs pushed against, as far as he could tell, several bruised and likely cracked ribs; meanwhile Ranma looked untouched and unaffected by it all, not even his shirt having been touched by Ryoga's strikes, and his breathing just as calm as if he was still walking home.
"What," Ryoga took in another breath, only for it turn into a cough that had blood spatter the roof. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he stared at Ranma with undisguised terror. "What the hell are you?"
Ranma cocked his head to the side in consideration, as if he didn't know the answer himself. "I'm not quite sure myself anymore. I suppose I could be any number of things really. Human." Ranma took a small step forwards. "Monster." Another step. "Angel." A step slightly to the side. "Demon." Step to the opposite side. "God" He took one more step forwards and Ryoga suddenly realized that the distance between had been halved without his notice.
"But above there is one thing that I am. Do you want to know what it is?" Ryoga swallowed as a chill ran razors up and down his spine, his head bobbing nervously up and down, to Ranma's amusement. The pig-tailed teen leaned in closer, as if he was about to tell Ryoga some great and terrible secret.
"I'm the best. And don't you forget it." Ryoga, like Ranma earlier, had only a moment to recognize the fact that there was an attack heading towards him, but unlike Ranma, he was self-taught and thus lacked the skills necessary to avoid the blow. He did, in that short space of time from when Ranma began his attack to when it hit, have the time to notice that the attack was something he had never seen before, as Ranma sudden upwards snap kick should have never been able to reach from where he had stood. But Ranma didn't need to be close to Ryoga, as his foot lit up with bright azure energy that left a tenuous trail of light behind it. The kick launched a brilliant azure crescent of energy that crossed the distance between the two fighters in the blink of an eye.
The blade of Ki, Ryoga only realized the latter part just as the attack connected with his body, was not sharp, but it didn't need to be. The sheer speed it possessed, neglecting the fact that as an energy it shouldn't have had any mass and thus any definable momentum, impacted Ryoga with the force of a speeding train, leaving a line of damage running at a slight angle across his torso and over one of his legs. He felt his cracked ribs break as he was knocked backwards, leaving him with a momentary sensation of weightlessness before gravity reasserted its hold on him, bringing him crashing back to ground as consciousness finally left him.
Ranma stood at the edge of the roof looking down at the fallen and battered form of Ryoga, a contemplative look on his face. Isolating Ryoga by sending him towards the roof had allowed Ranma to unleash more of his skills than he would have had they still had observers around, but he wasn't sure if anyone had seen his last attack. He hoped that Ryoga had taken enough damage to forget it as well, because it would allow him to use again in the future in case the eternally lost boy decided to continue his feud. Ranma gave a derisive snort at the thought. From the memories he had received from Amaya after concluding the fight, there was no doubt that the other teen would be on his feet and chasing after him as soon as physically possible. It was almost a shame, since it was quite obvious to Ranma that he was miles above Ryoga skill-wise, and he was the closest competitor he had met since Jusenkyo.
He sighed and looked towards the east, towards Chiba, Juuban, and Kamakura. 'I wonder if Kasumi is up for a trip.' HRanma wondered as he descended from the rooftop much more gracefully Ryoga had. He spared his fallen opponent one more glance, taking in the arriving ambulance with a calculative look, before heading off towards the Tendo home. I'm sure she wouldn't mind taking the weekend off, and she's been dying to meet up with Bell-chan. Sides, it would put Pops in twist now wouldn't it.
Plan's made, and feeling much lighter, Ranma went back to the first place he could call home in over ten years, a smile on his lips and a spring in his steps. Ryoga had certainly been a surprise for him, but like before, what was life without its surprises? Speaking of, he wondered what Kasumi had made for dinner...
Huh, Kasumi has kinda become a bit of a badass in this hasn't she? You know, I originally didn't intend for that to happen, buuuut, hey, what else can you do when inspiration hits, except to write it? Also, ditto the badassness for Ranma.
Ranma's technique that he used against Ryoga is altered Canon. No, really. The actual technique is a leaping kick with his foot covered in Ki. It's one of the techniques available to him in the Rpg for the SNES, Ranma ½: Akanekodan Teki Hihou. I just advanced it a little.
So, a good portion of inspiration for this story, mostly the interactions between Ranma and Amaya, come from Take the Green and Go, by Usagi-Hasano, and the Demon's Contract, by Ringmaster. Yes, that is that Kuzuki, and yes, Furinkan is that crazy if they need a guy like him, and no, Fuyuki City is far away from Nerima, so no, there will be no others involved. As for Kasumi, her techniques, as well as her mother, are, well, it's a popular series. I blame it entirely on Gabriel Blessing(unknowingly) for giving me the idea for both her and Kuzuki with his stories though.
Spam-omake : In a somewhat Canon Universe:
Ryoga steps forward, his usual umbrella replaced for a delicate looking rapier, a serious look on his face.
"My name is Ryoga Hibiki, you killed my father, prepare to die."
Ranma stares at him for a moment before he turns and punches Genma. "What the hell did you get me into this time you idiot?"
And, now that the main part is done, I present to you, the first in a series of omakes, rather fittingly titled: "How could it possibly have been worse?" All props to Daneel Rush for permission to use his original characters to suit my mad whims.
OMAKE It could always be worse #1 : Sayuri
Ranma's eyes widened in shock as a giant panda leaped from the pool he had knocked his father into. "What the hell?" His eyes turned towards the guide he and his father had ignored as they came into the training grounds, grounds that Ranma was rapidly beginning to think weren't what his father had told him they'd be.
The rather portly Chinese man was speaking too quickly for Ranma to make out anything other than a few short words, something about a tragic panda and the spring, but it was enough for Ranma to realize that he didn't want to have anything to due with the abundant supply of water that filled the valley.
Unfortunately for him, that realization came a bit too late, and the split of his focus to try and listen to the guide's words meant he was paying the panda across from him too little attention. That lack of attention instantly came back to bite him in the ass as the panda leapt off the bamboo pole and delivered a textbook Anything Goes style kick to Ranma's center of mass.
The blow was so unexpected that Ranma didn't have any time to ready himself or redirect the force applied to him, the end result being an uncontrolled backwards tumble, directly into one of the pools. He felt the water close over his head, and the strangest sensation as his body felt like it was being melted and pulled in one direction and then the other, repeatedly until he felt as if he was a piece of taffy in the hands of a curious child, eager to see how many shapes he could stretch his candy into.
On the bank of the spring Genma stared down into the water with an uncharacteristic look of worry on his face, or at least as close to one as could be managed while he held the form of a panda. The Guide had come up next him, moving surprisingly quietly as he had his head buried in an old leather bound book. Finally the guide found what he was looking for and eagerly thrust the book towards the martial artist in panda form.
"Here sir, here is curse of spring you boy fall in. It Spring of Drowned Pyromaniac Loli." The guide paused for a moment as he tapped into the inherent magic of the spring. "No one know why Spring have Japanese name, or why it make Guide able to say Pyromaniac with no accent. This spring very odd like that."
Genma rolled his eyes towards the guide for a moment before a flash of movement brought them back to the spring. His face, having begun to strectch into the ursine equivalent, fell like a stone as a dainty hand - a definitely female hand - reached out of the spring. The hand grasped around in the air for a moment before it found the ground, and with a great deal of effort, the body attached to the hand began to pull itself from the spring.
Of all the things that could be said of Genma Saotome, one could not say that he did not love his son, as in his own twisted and sometimes idiotic way he was only looking to make sure that his son was the best man he could possibly be, and that was a man far better than himself. He did not want his boy to fall from the pure path to diversions and distractions like he had under the Master, he could still remember the man he once was, the man who had stolen his dear wife's heart and made her the happiest woman on the planet, before he met the Master.
He knew he had fallen far, far from the path he once walked with ease, but he knew that his recognition of the fact was a sign that not everything had been lost under a Master who would never dare let anyone equal or surpass him. Thoughts of his wife brought him back to his current dilemma, as he knew that she would certainly go through with the contract on him after what he had done to her son. There was no chance she would participate in the death of her own flesh and blood, but he, once again after the Master, had no such protection.
The little girl in front of him, who looked little more than six or seven years of age and all the weight of his travel pack, of which most was the water that soaked form, was a major problem. The red hair screamed out at him in memory of his darling wife, as did her slight form and the shade of her eyes, eyes which certainly no longer were those of his child. The guide had brought out what little hot water he had, having been making tea before the Saotomes had arrived, and used it to turn Genma back to normal before returning to his hut to heat up some more.
"Boy, are you alright?" Genma was nervous as the little girl turned her eyes curiously towards him, the innocence and childish naivety behind them something he had not seen in his own child's eyes in many years. The girl studied his face for a few moments, every one of which weighed down harder and harder on Genma as he felt the chances that his son had retained his mind during the transformation dwindle. A second of recognition flickered behind her eyes, followed quickly by another, and then another, until the eyes lit up entirely, the child's face turning into a brilliant smile as she leaped forwards and wrapped her arms as far around Genma as possible.
The man himself stood frozen. The gesture of affection was something so distantly foreign to his child, and himself after a decade away from his wife, that he had no idea how to react. The girl continued to grasp him for a moment before she relaxed her arms, leaning back with a concerned expression on her face as she noticed that Genma was not reacting as she had evidently thought he would.
"Mugyuu? Why is Oji-chan not hugging me? Did Wanma do something wong?" The girl's child-like speech further entrenched the opinion within Genma's mind that she couldn't have been too old when she had died, until the words she had spoken registered fully within his, as many would attest to, dense brain.
His eyes wide, he grasped her tightly by the shoulders, ignoring the quiet gasp of pain, and lifted her into the air in front of him. "What. Did. You. Say."
The girl pouted as she struggled in vein to escape from Genma's grip. "Aaah, Oji-chan is being mean. Wanma don't like it when Oji-chan is being mean." Her eyes narrowed and for a moment Genma felt a trickle of something cold run down his spine, though he shrugged it off and attributed the feeling to some of the water the guide had used to return his form traveling down his back.
"Meanie Oji-chan should burn." And there was fire, and screaming, and property damage from the Guide's hut burning down. And it was humorous.
"Mugyuuu, where are we going again?" Genma, in human form thanks to an easily aquired rain poncho, sighed in exasperation. While keeping the fox-girl his son occasionally became from getting bored or angry was tedious, the kitsune was much more easily to lead and control. If his boy had been with him then he would have most likely been fighting him every step of the way. He smiled and turned to the girl, shuddering slightly as she stared at him with her soul-piercingly innocent gaze.
"Ranma, what's that behind you?" He almost felt pity as the girl gave him a confused blink before turning around. Sometimes, it was almost too easy.
"Waah! Pwetty Tails!" And that was what was earning him and his son-turned-daughter odd looks as they walked through downtown Nerima. While they could possibly shrug off a relative normal looking red-headed girl fighting a giant panda, a preteen girl with nine fox tails floating around behind her, a legend come to life, was impossible to ignore. At least none of them had gone and formed an angry mob, which had happened in the last three towns they had passed.
He could only hope his old friend was as accepting as the rest of the people seemed to be. He had better, otherwise he would have no option but to, *shudder*, return to Nodoka. No, his friend would accept if he knew what was good for him.
"Waai! Wanma want to help Kasumi-neechan!" Kasumi Tendo smiled beatifically at the small kitsune out of the corner of her eye as she deftly sliced up the vegetables for dinner. Unlike her sisters, she didn't cringe when the kitsune added the suffix to her name, in fact she found it rather cute and endearing. While her dear wonderful sisters may have pushed the Pact off onto her, she didn't mind. Ranma seemed to be a sweet, if somewhat naive, gentleman, and Ranma-chan reminded her strongly of her sisters, when they had all been much younger.
"Kasumi-san, are you feeling alright?" The concern, though hidden, was clear as Kasumi shook herself free of her thoughts as she turned to find Ranma, freshly returned to his male form judging by the water soaking his shirt, his eyes full of worry. She offered him a warm smile, the expression calming the teen.
"I'm fine, just lost in thought. Do you still want to help me prepare supper?" The question was reasonable, since there seemed to be a fair bit of disassociation between Ranma's two personalities.
"Of course. Even if it wasn't me who offered, I still offered didn't I? What kind of ma-person," Kasumi smiled at Ranma's self-correction. It had taken a fair bit of time, but she had broken his gender bias, a least slightly, and she couldn't have been prouder of his growth. He was still a bit rough around the edges, but she couldn't help but think that her sisters had missed an incredible opportunity.
Oh well, too bad for them.
"I'm making mixed ramen, would you min-" Kasumi never finished as Ranma appeared by her side, staring at the ingredients and stove with an odd intensity. Kasumi felt slightly strange as he turned and fixed her with those same eyes, those deep blue eyes, those hungering, piercing, loving eyes. A shiver rolled through her body.
"Oh, oh my..."
The school wall bulged inwards before the concrete and plaster practically exploded, only Ranma's fast reactions saving several students from being hit by pieces of shrapnel. Standing in the middle of the fast settling cloud of dust was a cloaked and hooded figure, two large maces in her, even somewhat obscured it was easy to tell the gender of the stranger, hands.
"Ranma, you I Kill!" She raised her mace and darted forward to smash it into the place Ranma had been standing in only moments before.
Ranma didn't bother trying to be diplomatic. He knew exactly why she was after him, and considering how Akane had reacted when she had suffered something similar, he wasn't too surprised by her sudden appearance. "For what you did, Die!" Although he could have done without a second Ryoga around.
Flipping through the air, his hand darted out and snagged the girl's hood, dragging it and her cloak with him. For a moment there was silence, only for it to be broken by a quickly stifled snicker. That snicker was joined by a girlish giggle, then a chuckle, until the classroom was filled with outright laughter at the bald girl standing in the middle of the room.
Even Ranma himself couldn't help the short laugh that escaped him, though his action served only to draw the girl's attention back to its original target.
"For crime of burning Xian Pu hair, DIE!"
"How," Saffron stared incredulously as his hottest flames washed over his opponent and did nothing. "How did you survive that?"
His opponent cocked their head to the side and scratched the back of their neck in confusion.
"Wanma just doing as Author-sama tell her too." Damn it, I'd hoped that trait from Sayuri hadn't carried over. Bugger. Maybe if I don't respond she'll stop. Yeah, lets try that.
Anyway, Saffron, the asshole that he was-
"Hey!"
Sorry, the giant flaming turkey that he was-
"HEY!"
The Phoenix King. Happy now?
"Much, now will you get on with it already you incompetent rube? The reader's are getting tired of you ripping off another author's style."
Alright alrig- wait, how the bloody hell are you talking to me? Only a Kitsune can do that. You shouldn't even be aware of me.
"Fool, I have long mastered the technique of Breaking through Dimensional Barriers. Breaking through the Fourth dimension was simple for one as godly as I."
Wow, I haven't seen such an ego since that blond King of Pricks from that series I recently started reading, it was, uh...
"You can't remember it, can you?"
Shut up. You know, I was going to let you show off a bit more, but you insulted me. Ranma, I hate myself for this, but, Show Me Your Moves! *Pose!*
"Hai! Wanma wanna use special technu-techini-tenicu, special move!" Wiggle Wiggle.
Oh, oh dear. I have a bad feeling about this. Anytime there's a Wiggle Wiggle, it heralds bad things.
"WRRRRRRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!"
Well. Looks like I was right. At least she didn't pull out her Kakuton Release. On the other hand, it was immensely satisfying to watch Saffron get steamrolled.
Hmm, this is why I shouldn't do things like this. But at least it's over now. Thank all the hea-
"Author-san. I too would like to have an opportunity to participate in this endeavor of yours. But please do not take me away from master for too long. He needs me, and my wonderful body."
"And I am interested as well boya. Fufufufufu."
"How cute, Setsuna-san wants to branch out in search of another boy to join herself to. How lonely she must be."
"S-shut up you insufferable giant breasted woman!"
*Backs away quickly. Sounds of arguing in the background*
...I really need to learn when to keep my bloody mouth shut. Well, at least it wasn't too bad...
...scary thought, but I dread, oh do I dread, to imagine what would have happened if... no, that belongs in the citrusy side of the net, and I do not write that. I will not write that.
"Yoohoo, author-sama~"
Dammit to hell. Screw this, I'm done with this, later all. Before I go, Hell no Yuriyo!
"Aaah, don't be that way, author-sama~"
And I'm outta here...