Multiplicity

A Ranma fanfic by Mike Breslau

Disclaimer: You know the drill: better folks than I own the characters that appear in this scribbling.


That same evening Ranma was treating Nabiki to dinner at an upscale
restaurant. They were seated at a booth which mostly shielded them from
the view of the other diners. To insure further privacy, Ranma had morphed
into a dark blond near-duplicate of Nabiki herself, so they looked like
sisters. Nabiki was wearing a nice, but not too formal, brown outfit;
Ranma was similarly attired in gray. A platinum brooch (a gift from Ranma)
adorned the left shoulder of each of their jackets. This being Nabiki, her
idea of a romantic night out required discussion of financial matters...

Nabiki shook her head in amusement. "Only you can hide in plain sight." By
unspoken agreement, they were both not uttering each other's names to
throw off eavesdroppers.

"If you got it, flaunt it. Besides, I don't want any of my 'admirers'
tracking me down and spoiling our evening together."

"Very thoughtful. Why did you choose demolition as a career?" Nabiki
asked.

"Consider my options," Ranma replied. "Most jobs are closed to me because
of my lack of education. I can do anything a crane operator could do, but
I wouldn't need a crane to do it. Pile driving, lifting stuff into the air
- all that would be easy for me. But, crane operators get paid by the
hour; in demolition, I get paid by the job and I can finish in under an
hour and go home. More money, less time. It was easy."

"Wouldn't it have been simpler for you to go into business for yourself
making things? You wouldn't need someone like Hayashi to hire you. I know
you're good at making nice things, these pins are proof of that."

"Yeah, but then I'd have to find buyers for my stuff. I'm not good at
selling, and I don't enjoy promoting myself."

Nabiki scoffed. "After all the boasting you've done you don't enjoy
promoting yourself? Give me a break!"

Ranma looked thoughtful. "That boasting was partly to mask my insecurity;
with Pop belittling me every hour of every day for a decade, I had plenty
of insecurity. Partly it was to project an image of myself that would lead
opponents to underestimate me. That is just another martial art technique
that the very best have to use. Shampoo does it too."

"I don't lay all my cards on the table either." Nabiki changed the
subject. "Can you make gems? They would be a lot more compact than tons of
copper..."

Ranma reached into an empty pocket and pulled out a handful of diamonds.
"Is that really a good idea? If you sell more than one or two of these
won't people start asking questions?"

Nabiki was chagrinned at having been caught out. "You're right. We'd have
to prove that we came by them honestly; that they're not blood diamonds or
smuggled.' She fingered her brooch. "I could pawn a reasonable amount of
jewelry like this, but if I sell too much it looks suspicious. Do you
think you could make furniture? High end furniture commands a good price,
and you don't need to prove anything to sell it."

Ranma pocketed the gems and paused for a moment. "How would I go about
making and selling furniture?"

Nabiki was in her element now. "They have woodworking exhibitions. You
make some nice pieces and show them there. Hand out flyers offering to
custom-make furniture, and let the clients come to you."

"It's a thought. I would like to develop my artistic side more. You know,
I was always more interested in the 'art' than in the 'martial.'"

"Oh, I know. I've watched you doing katas. If you would slow down, I could
sell tickets to watch you practice. You're very graceful."

Ranma laughed. "Gettin' paid for practicing the Art. That'll be the day."
She changed the subject. "Is everything you think about related to money?"

Nabiki snorted. "Is everything you think about related to martial arts?
While you were learning your Art, I had to spend a decade keeping my
family financially afloat. That's a heavy responsibility to place on a
young girl. At least I never had to resort to selling my body! You've
reached a time when you want to expand beyond martial arts; I'd love to be
able to move beyond money-grubbing." Her voice turned bitter at the end.

"Sorry," said Ranma. "We've both become one-dimensional caricatures,
haven't we? Maybe it's time to grow up now."


The next day Ranma was walking with Kasumi as she was returning from her
shopping. The sky was blue, the air was warm, and everything would have
been perfect if it hadn't been for Pantyhose Taro approaching them in an
angry mood. Ranma sighed, shooed Kasumi away, and erected a barrier around
Taro and himself to contain any damage that might result.

Taro lost no time in pleasantries. "Hey, fem-boy, where is the old
pervert?"

"Congratulations, Pantyhose, for the first time ever I actually know where
Happosai is when you asked for him. Now, why should I tell you?"

Taro growled, "I'll beat it out of you then..." Pantyhose understood
direct and brutal; he didn't understand much else.

Ranma did a fair imitation of Rocky the flying squirrel. "That trick never
works." Ranma made a show of donning a blindfold and quickly tying his
right hand behind his back to prove that Taro was no threat to him. There
was a swift exchange of fisticuffs. Taro was soon on the ground, black and
blue all over, while Ranma was unharmed and unfazed.

"Geez, when did you get so good Ranma?" asked Taro.

"I've been training bull-boy. You know, if you had asked me politely we
could have avoided this unpleasantness..."

Pantyhose considered his aching ribs and decided to try doing this Ranma's
way. "All right, Ranma, please tell me where Happosai is."

Ranma removed his blindfold and grinned widely. "Right now he's standing
just behind you."

Taro stood up and turned around. There was the old pervert standing just
outside the invisible barrier that confined Pantyhose.

"Hi ya, Pantyhose, how are ya doin'?" greeted Happosai with a leer.

"Oh my," said you-know-who. "I thought you were confined to your room,
Grandfather Happosai."

The pervert made a dismissive gesture. "I've been locked up before..."

"Usually for a good reason," muttered Pantyhose quietly. Louder,
"Happosai, will you change my name? I hate the name you gave me."

Happosai shook his head. "Pantyhose is a fine name, young man. You should
feel honored."

Taro started to fume. Ranma overrode him and commanded, "Happi, just do
it. Give him a better name."

Happosai responded meekly, "Yes, master."

Pantyhose blinked. "Master?"

"Oh yes," replied the old pervert, "Ranma is better than me in every way,
so he is my master now."

Pantyhose boggled at this admission.

Happosai looked thoughtful. "Let's see, what shall I call you? How about
'Laura Biden'?"

"That won't do at all," responded Taro.

"How about 'Lois Bidder'?"

"No."

"'Wanda Lust'?"

"That's suits Ryoga, not me."

"Is 'Sally Forth' okay?"

"Never!"

"Perhaps 'Natalie Attired'?"

"No good."

"Consider 'Selma Soul'?"

Taro paused. "Tempting, but no."

"Maybe 'Laura Dee West'?"

"You gotta be kiddin'."

"'Kay Sera'?"

"Nope!"

"'Bertha DeBlues'?"

"No way!"

"How about 'Helena Handbasket'?"

"Been there, done that, don't want to be reminded."

"'Ivanna Holdyourhand'?"

"Too beatleish."

"'Ann Onomous'?"

"That's a cliche."

"I know! 'Auntie Histamine'?"

"Get serious..." Taro glowered.

"How about 'Elle Phant'?"

"Too big for me."

"'Anita Bitmore'?"

"Never!"

"'Auntie Septic'?"

"Surely you jest."

"'Lois Teem'?"

"Definitely not!"

"I know! How about 'Amanda B. Rekonwidth'?"

Taro paused. "I don't think so..."

Happosai smiled. "Maybe 'Juana Dans'?"

"No. Those are all girl's names. Give me a man's name, strong and
masculine!"

"But I like girls names. Oh all right. Is 'Boris Todeath' okay?"

"No way, Jose."

"Misha Goss?"

"Nope. Too Jewish."

"'Lew Cipher'?"

"Nah."

"Perhaps 'Hugh D. Mann'?"

"Sorry."

"'Willy Wonthe'?"

"No way."

"'Evan Handed'?"

"No, No!"

"'Yul B. Sorree'?"

Short pause. "Nah..."

"'Bill O'Lading'?"

"Um, Nope..."

"'Luke B. Hindyu'?"

"Gimme a break..."

"'Mel Otoma'?"

"I won't be named after a cancer, thank you!"

"How about 'Hassan Ben Sober'?"

"That's insulting!"

"Would you accept 'Hugo Faraway'?"

"Never!"

"How about 'Ben Dover'?"

"I think not."

"'Moe D. Lawn'?"

"Nope."

"Maybe 'Jim Shortz'?"

Taro shook his head.

"Try 'Ken Opener' on for size."

"Sorry, it doesn't fit."

Happosai paused to consider. "I know! We'll call you 'Upton O'Good'"

"Do I look Irish? Don't think so."

"I think 'Loudon Noyzee' fits you."

"Arrgh! Definitely not!"

"You're hard to please. Perhaps 'Noah Kount'?"

Steely glare. "No!"

"'Tom Foolery'?"

"Never!"

"Maybe you should be 'Joe King'?"

"Quit clowning around."

"Pity that. Consider 'Neil Down'?"

"Give me a fairly decent name, dammit!"

"Okay. Does 'Fairleigh Descent' suit you?"

"That's almost good enough, I suppose. Can't you do better?"

"Considering your cursed form, how about 'Manny Tower'?"

Pantyhose thought about it. "Manny" sounded masculine enough, and "Tower"
implied strength. "You're on! I'll take it," he said almost happily.

"I now name you Manny Tower. Congratulations, my boy," said Happosai
solemnly.

The former Pantyhose danced a little jig, then produced a thermos of cold
water from his backpack and splashed himself. Ranma lowered the invisible
barrier around them. In a few minutes a minotaur named Manny Tower was
flying West, heading back home to China.

Once the flying Tower was safely out of sight "Happosai" morphed into a
duplicate of Ranma. The two Ranmas high-fived each other.

"Was that you all along, Ranma?" asked Kasumi.

"Yup. The real Happosai is still locked in his room," answered one of the
Ranmas. The other Ranma silently nodded.

"Oh my..."

At this moment Tatewaki Kuno appeared. He was dressed in normal clothing
and carried no boken. He bowed to Kasumi and the Ranmas. "I wish to
apologize for my boorish behavior in the past. It was unbefitting a man of
my station."

"Oh my," said you-know-who.

"No problem. Apology accepted," said one of the Ranmas. "Actually, I sort
of enjoyed our little skirmishes," added the other Ranma, "but I didn't
like it when you endangered innocent bystanders."

Tatewaki blinked twice. "How long have there been two of you?" he asked.

"There are actually four of me now, the others are elsewhere," chorused
the Ranmas in eerie unison. "It's a recent development," added one.

"I don't understand," Tatewaki said.

"There's quite a bit you don't understand," muttered one of the Ranmas.
The other explained, "It's an advanced martial arts technique that allows
me to be in several places at once. It's not magic; it's done with ki
manipulation."

Kuno paused for a minute to let it sink in. "You're saying that
sufficiently advanced martial artists can do amazing things?"

Both Ranmas nodded. "That's right," they said. One continued, "Now if you
want to see real magic, just hold my wrists." He extended his arms towards
Kuno.

Tatewaki grasped the offered wrists. "Why am I doing this?" he wondered.

Both Ranmas gradually morphed into their female form.

Kuno was in shock. He had felt the wrists that he held change; there was
no way to substitute one body for another without his feeling it. "My
pigtailed goddess...You are another manifestation of Ranma? How is this
possible?"

One Ranma began, "In the remote mountains of China there is a valley
called Jusenkyo. It contains over 100 cursed springs - called the pools of
sorrow. Whoever falls into a spring and survives takes the form of
whatever drowned in that spring most recently. Any creature who falls in a
spring and drowns gives that spring a new template." The other Ranma
concluded, "My father fell into the spring of drowned panda; I fell into
the spring of drowned maiden."

Kuno was shocked. "So if I fell into that cursed spring, I would become a
girl?"

"Yes. You would be a girl until you got splashed with hot water - that
returns you to your birth form. But, contact with cold water reactivates
the curse and would bring forth your other form." The other Ranma added,
"however, the curse magic makes you a water magnet - just to keep your
life interesting."

"But you changed without water," observed Tatewaki.

"That's another advanced ki manipulation technique. I now have control
over Jusenkyo magic, so perhaps I am a magician of sorts."

"I see," said Kuno, "I must tell my sister of this wonder."

"Gambate," chorused the Ranmas. Kuno left, looking dazed and thoughtful.


That same afternoon another Ranma was talking to Xian Pu in the Cat Cafe,
with Ku Lon listening in. The old crone was going to listen and kibitz
anyway, so Ranma thought he might as well invite her.

Ranma asked to Ku Lon, "Elder, how do Amazons get to know each other?
Surely, there must be other ways besides beating each other black and
blue..."

Cologne chuckled. "Yes, we can interact without bloodshed. Believe it or
not, some of us are not even good fighters: lore keepers, healers, and the
like are respected for their useful skills. It is rare, but it happens,
that sometimes we go on dates just as outsiders do."

Shampoo added her two cents. "Normally, Shampoo would want to spar with a
great fighter like Ranma to see how she measures up. After you defeated
Saffron that became impossible. The entire village combined could not do
what you had done that day; sparring with you would be pointless."

Ranma looked disappointed. He responded, "actually, I was hoping you would
spar with me. I'm afraid to fight or spar because I'm too powerful now. I
need to learn how to hold back enough so I can hit without killing
someone. You are one of the few people I know who could accept the damage
I might do - and you'd even be proud of surviving it."

Shampoo had mixed emotions. "Aiyah! You want punching bag? Shampoo is
warrior, not practice dummy!"

Cologne giggled briefly - with dignity. Ranma waved his hands in denial.
"That's not what I meant. I was praising you! Of all the people I know,
Ryoga is the toughest, but he'd get angry and depressed. I wanted a tough
sparring partner who could give as well as take and keep a clear head
while doing so."

Shampoo was relieved. "Oh. That sound better."

Cologne interjected, "If you offer to train her in martial arts, I'm sure
Shampoo would accept."

Shampoo looked eager. Ranma spoke formally, "Xian Pu, this one would like
to invite you to train and spar this afternoon, followed by a hot bath and
then dinner out."

"Aiyah! I'm so happy."

Mou Tse appeared and interrupted, "You can't! Xian Pu is mine!"

A cupful of cold water appeared over Mousse's head and splashed down,
changing Mousse into his new cursed form. Instead of being a
normal-looking nearsighted white duck, he was now black and bore a strong
resemblance to the "Daffy Duck" cartoon character. Like the cartoon duck,
Mousse could talk in a funny voice, and he also could see clearly, but he
couldn't fly as well as before.

"Quack!" said the dazed and confused drake.

"Stupid Mousse!" said Shampoo, "Shampoo was never yours and never will be.
There are none so blind as those who will not see."

"But I love," squawked the duck, then he stopped in surprise. "Hey! I can
talk. I can see!"

Ranma smirked. "I took the liberty of rewriting your cursed form's
template, Mousse. Enjoy your new eyesight, and then look for someone who
returns your affections."

"You've mastered Jusenkyo magic?" asked Shampoo and Cologne in chorus.

"Yes," admitted Ranma, "I wanted to understand how my curse worked and so
I learned how to control it. It's a quite useful technique."

"We MUST get this guy into the tribe somehow," thought Cologne, "I'd make
him king of the entire valley if I thought it would do any good."

"Can you cure my curse?" asked Shampoo eagerly.

"I'd rather train you to the point where you can control it yourself,"
replied Ranma. Cologne nodded.

Soon Ranma and Shampoo were in the cleared space behind the Nekohanten
that the Amazons used for a practice area. Ranma erected a barrier of
immobile air around them to confine any damage that might result. They
began to spar. Initially, Ranma felt as though he was dancing through
treacle as he tried to move slowly enough. At first, he was only dodging,
trying to evaluate Shampoo's level of skill in her various moves.

"Hit me, Ranma!" cried Shampoo, "Your dodging makes warrior angry."

Ranma reluctantly obliged, doing his best to be careful. Shampoo muffled
an exclamation of pain as she flew into the protective barrier and slumped
to the ground.

Ranma hurried over and held her down while he checked her out. "Don't move
yet," he commanded.

"I'm all right," protested the Amazon.

"No you're not, you've two broken ribs. Hold still while I try to fix
them." Ranma directed his senses, then his ki, into Shampoo's injury. In a
little over a minute the broken bones had reunited and knitted together,
then the damaged flesh around them was healed. Ranma had used his
Jusenkyo-like techniques to replace damaged tissues with healthy ones.

"Ai ren is a healer now?" asked Shampoo in awe.

Ranma didn't think he deserved that title. "Pop taught me field first aid,
or I never would have survived his training. I've been talking to Dr. Tofu
and studying some in the library, but I'm not a healer yet. Maybe
someday..."

"We have got to get Ranma into the tribe," thought Cologne and Shampoo
simultaneously.

Author's Notes

And I thought I could write a story without humor...