Six years later, San Francisco International Airport. A conversation over the phone, in Japanese:
"Are you sure this what you want?" Nabiki Kuno asked over the phone, a note of concern in her voice.
"Sure, I'm sure. I just need to get away. You understand, right?" The voice on the phone sounded cheerful, but just a little irritated, as if this was a subject explained over and over several times. "Really. Don't worry, I'm a big girl, ne?"
"Not a good enough excuse. I tend to worry about family, especially when they do weird things like suddenly moving to another country." She paused. "Are you really-"
"Nabiki!" The girl semi-fumed, partly in exasperation and partly in jest. "Please! I don't want to go into that again. You've already made me tell you once."
"Okay, I'll buy that, especially in light of the 3000 yen you paid me not to tell anyone." She laughed. "But I said earlier you could come live with us in LA until you get settled."
"I might come visit you later, when I'm settled here. But the truth is, Los Angeles is too fast for me."
"Too fast for you?!" There was an another burst of laughter from Nabiki. "I never thought I'd hear you say that!"
The person on the other end of the phone giggled as well. "Okay, okay, wrong choice of words. What I meant was, LA is faster than I'd like to start. If I move slower...well, you know."
"Say no more; I fully understand." Nabiki stopped, then said, "Can you hold on a second? My secretary's buzzing." There was a pause for a minute or two, then: "Sorry, but duty calls; I have an unscheduled meeting in five minutes with the board of directors. But before I let you go, tell me-how's everyone back home?"
"Great!" the girl bubbled. "Everyone's just fawning over the baby, and Ukyo just opened up an eighth Cat Cafe in Nagoya. Our resident parental lovebirds are still on vacation. Shiva and the twins are just merrily enjoying their college years at Gainaxtech. Ryoga and Akari are doing well in Kobe. Natsumi and Mai, well...you know how they can be."
"Yeah," Nabiki interjected, smiling on her end of the phone.
The narrator continued. "Kodachi won another gold medal at the Gymnastics Invitational in Paris, but you already knew that." Then, remembering whom she was talking to, she added, "Oh, and by the way, the Yokohama BayStars won the All-Japan Series."
"Cool! I'll have to call Mousse and tell him he owes me 2000 yen. Hate to end on this note, but I have to get ready for the meeting," Nabiki lamented. "Promise me you'll call as soon as."
"You know I will."
"Okay, then. I'll expect your call."
"Until next time, sis." The girl hung up the phone and pulled a small phone book from her purse. She dumped a quarter into the coin slot and punched up a local number. She let it ring for about ten times before hanging up and retrieving her coin. She looked in the phone book again, and before a minute passed, was dialing another number.
Ghiardelli Square, Cocoa building, 4th Floor:
"Hello, this is the California Cat Cafe's business line. Maria, speaking. How can I help you?" went the cheerful reply as she answered the phone. In truth, Maria Lopez felt anything but. A massive hangover threatened to pound her into the floor. Actually, she was bad enough that she'd had to cancel her afternoon workout and the shopping trip. She moved to sit down, and the room did a 360-degree pirouette around her. If I can only make it through this day...
"Good afternoon," the voice on the other end of the line cheerfully said. Was the speaker foreign, or was she that hung over? Well, English is English, no matter who speaks it...maybe. "I'm looking for Ms. Shan Fu Lao."
Shan Fu Lao, my Brain is Pounding Loud... Maria couldn't concentrate, as her brain cells were currently protesting the working conditions. Worry about that later; you have a customer. Remember: the Cali Cat never disappoints its customers. Focusing on a point on the wall, she answered. "I'm afraid Ms. Lao isn't in today; she had other business to attend to." Okay, think. What's the next line? "Would you like to leave a message?"
"She was s'posed to meet me at the airport. Can you let her know I'm still here, waiting?"
"Did you by any chance try her home phone?" The voice on the other end indicated that there was no answer. Where else would she be? Hmmm... "Um, have you tried calling The Magic Duck? She might be there."
There was a pause for a second, then a small groan, followed by, "Do you have the number?"
"Yeah. Hold on a sec." Maria thought about it for a second, victimizing a few more innocent neurons in her head, as the samba drumming that was the intoxication continued. Next, she tried to look at the computer's phone list, but couldn't remember how to turn it on. She finally told the person to wait, put her on hold, and shouted at the top of her lungs, "GIL! WHAT'S THE NUMBER TO THE MAGIC DUCK?"
"555-DUCK," a voice called out through the other end of the door. "Maria, would you hurry up? We're in the middle of the lunch rush and I could use some help."
"Okay, okay, I'm coming, I'm coming!" Maria shouted back. "Ouch, that hurt," she grumbled to no one in particular as the pounding decided it was time for a drum solo. She got on the phone again and relayed the number. The other person hung up; so did Maria. She then went to the mirror to straighten herself up.
The Cali Cat uniform, a white shirt, black bow tie, and matching skirt, looked impeccable as always. Its wearer, however, had seen better days. Looking into the mirror, she usually saw a young Hispanic woman of 24 and about 5-foot-7, with an athletic build (from all her martial arts training over the years), bobbed dark brown hair, a tan complexion, and dazzling, expressive brown eyes (Shampoo jokingly referred to her several times as 'MexAkane', but Maria could never remember exactly what the joke meant). Normally, she looked like that. Today, well...in her opinion, she looked kinda like the "Ukyo's Special" okonomiyaki that the Cali Cat served, just not as attractive.
Whose brilliant idea was it to go partying last night? she thought, as the remaining brain cells in her head surrendered to oblivion, while the pounding in her temples doing its victory dance. Oh wait-it was mine. Ouchie... She slumped to her knees and tried to crawl to the door. "Let's have a birthday bash for my 24th!" Brilliant idea, Maria, she decided. Was it her fault that it turned out to be another one of her so-called Rocket Scientist ideas? However, for Maria, that was the norm. Despite being beautiful, a talented martial artist, and a constantly cheerful person, she was not exactly blessed with the brains in her family. That was okay though, as she still managed to somehow get by, and everyone still considered her a good friend anyway-despite the occasional "Mihoshi" comment. What does that mean, anyway? She tried to pull herself up by the knob.
At least, that was the plan. In reality, the knob spun, the door opened, and hit her in the face. She saw more stars for a second than Carl Sagan, and then passed out.
"Maria? You okay?" Gil asked as he strolled in the door. Barely, it would seem. A huge guy, with muscles like a weight-lifter, he moved in through the door frame stealthily. If he'd looked in the mirror, he would have seen a 27-year-old, 6-foot-2, well-built gentleman with hair, eyes, and complexion similar to the other worker currently present at the Cali Cat. As it was, however, he looked down and saw Maria in her Zen-connect-the-dots state on the floor. Maria... Effortlessly, he picked her up and gently placed her on the futon couch against the wall.
Gil Martinez looked at the unconscious girl, then wistfully sighed. Never a dull moment working here. He closed the office door, pausing only long enough to adjust his uniform. He'd close the cafe for the day just after the lunch rush. Under the present circumstances, Shampoo wouldn't mind.
That was one reason why he loved working for the boss-her carefree and happy attitude. He'd known Libby, Shampoo and Mousse since college, when he was working on his chef's degree and studying free-style karate just to keep in shape. Shampoo's determination and sheer will to get anything done led him to come work for her when they all graduated. Since then, Maria had also joined up, and the California Cat Cafe, one of the few Japanese/Chinese eateries NOT located in Chinatown, was an absolute smash. Gil believed honestly that there was nothing that Shampoo couldn't do.
Except marry Mousse. From what he's told me, they've been together since childhood, but still aren't totally a couple, though they're inseparable. But that's her business, not mine.
Oh well. He had things to do before he closed up. Then he'd drive Maria home. There was still enough time in the day to do some working out or catch a movie, or something like that.
The customer at table 15 motioned, and Gil went to see what he needed. The day wasn't done yet.
The Embarcadero, Pier 39, second deck:
The phone in the Magic Duck rang throughout the shop, the ring actually being a mallard's quack. The Magic Duck was as its name implied, a magic, novelty, and hobby shop, which sold everything from optical puzzles to kites, videogames to magic books, tarot cards to models and everything in between. It was a charming little place, just like all the stores on Pier 39, and it was quite successful. The quacking phone, however, clashed with the store's in-house rock music.
"Hold on, I'm coming," a voice called. A lithe young African-American man in his early twenties, dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans, stopped stocking the shelves, walked over to the counter, and picked up the backside of a plastic duck, which was actually the phone's receiver.
"Greetings from the place with luck, the One and Only Magic Duck!" he beamed. "Tyler Edwards, here. How can I assist you?" He glanced as his watch. 12:45 in the afternoon. Man, oh man, has the day dragged! Gotta do something to relieve the boredom. I wonder where I put the Nerf gun...
"Hi. Is Mr. Muu Tsu Jiang there?"
"Sure. Just wait a sec." He put the receiver down, clicked hold, and called out towards the storeroom, "Yo, Mousse! Some official type on the phone for you!"
"It's not...?" a voice answered back.
"Naah, doesn't sound like her at all. Besides, the woman used your full Chinese name, amigo-something Shamps never does." Tyler replied. "Want me to transfer it to the phone back there?"
"No, I'll come out." After a minute, the proprietor of the Magic Duck walked to the counter, put down the three boxes of Magic cards he had in his arms, and picked up the stuffed Godzilla doll by the cash register, putting it to his ear. "Hello, this is Muu Tsu Jiang here. What can I do for you?"
"Uh, Mousse, here's the phone." Tyler handed his boss the receiver, then reached over and dropped Mousse's glasses onto his nose. "Y'know, ya really oughta consider contacts."
"Don't like the idea of shoving 'em against my eyeballs," he commented, as he adjusted the frames. "'Sides, they don't make them in my prescription."
"And also, Shamps considers 'em just so you, huh," Tyler deadpanned.
"Yeah," Mousse answered, nearly blushing at the thought of his true love. The years hadn't changed the young man much. Sure, he'd settled into San Franciscan life comfortably and spoke English like a native, and had matured from his old Circus and Tokyo days, but he was still mostly the same old Mousse. Admittedly, there were cosmetic changes: his hair was no longer waist length, but now reached just past his shoulders and was tied into a ponytail. He hadn't worn his robes in years; today he was dressed in a white T-shirt, jade V-neck sweater with the sleeves rolled up, 501s, and Nikes. If one didn't know him better, one would think he was trying to be an American version of Tofu. However, despite the times, and Kasumi's husband notwithstanding, he was still the same old friendly-and blind as a bat without glasses-Mousse.
"Uh, Mousse...the, um, phone," Tyler reminded him.
He snapped out of his Shampoo-driven reverie. Clicking off the hold button, he began. "This is Muu Tsu Jiang. How may I be of service?"
"Mousse!" the voice on the other end voiced her delight.
He knew who it was instantly. "Hiya! Haven't heard from you in the longest time! Settled in over at Shampoo's?"
"Great to hear you too! And no; I'm still at the airport. I called her house, but didn't get an answer. The girl at the Cafe said that she wasn't in today."
"Well, it's not like her to forget," Mousse noted.
"I know that. I'm kinda worried."
He thought about it for a second, then remembered. "Ahh, don't worry about it; I have a funny feeling where she might be. Oh-didja eat yet?"
"Other than a bento lunch about the flight, no."
"Tell ya what: I'll go pick you up. I'll give you a quick tour of your new hometown, then we'll have dinner at Fisherman's Wharf. After, we'll go to her place, since I've got a key," he said. "Up to it?"
"You bet!" was the chipper reply.
"Okay, I'll be there in oh, say, 45 minutes. What terminal are you at?"
"I'm waiting at Japan Air System's baggage claim."
"Okay, see you then."
"See ya, Mousse. And thanks."
"Hey, Tyler?" Mousse said as he put the phone.
His assistant was on top of the collector card shelf display balanced on the toes of one foot as he tried to dust off the ceiling-mounted train track. "Yeah?" The display wobbled slightly.
"Can you close toni-look out!" At that cue, the metal bent, and Tyler lost his balance. Down in a tumble of cleaning supplies, baseball cards, comic books, and other collectibles, went Tyler. Worse, he'd snapped the track, and each car of the whole toy train pegged him squarely on the head.
Mousse ran over to his side. "You okay?"
Tyler, still mostly buried under all the mess, looked a little dazed. "Nothing that a little intensive care can't fix," he murmured.
"I don't know why you even tried that," Mousse pointed out. "You know, you'd be one of the Bay area's greatest kenpo artists...if you weren't such a klutz." He flashed a no-harm-meant smile.
"Thanks for easing my ego," he grumbled. Otherwise, he didn't seem too bad.
"Look, I have to make a run to the airport. Would you min-"
"Sure, I'll close tonight," Tyler finished as he climbed out of the pile and rubbed the latest bruises on his body. "It'll take that long to clean up, anyway."
"Okay, then," Mousse said as he walked to the door. "Take care then."
"Catch you on the flipside, Mousse."
As Mousse walked on towards the parking lot, Tyler thought for a second on how strange his life had become since the day he'd met Mousse, six years ago. A high-school kid training to be the best martial artist, he'd been practicing at Golden Gate Park. He'd gotten good enough that on the ground, he was an excellent kenpo fighter, and a bit cocky, too. Until the day he'd challenged the Chinese guy wearing the robes. That day, he'd learned two things: one, that "the path of a true martial artist is fraught with peril," as the Robe quoted an old teacher he knew; and that two, his art was a fast, agile, acrobatic discipline-and that his natural lack of aforementioned skills would have to be improved. Big time. So he trained with the "Moose" guy and got to know him. Eventually, he got to be close friends with, and began working for, Muu Tsu Jiang-"Mousse".
Not that it meant he stopped trying to improve his skills. Far from it. He'd learned to hone his skills (if not his balance), and could take on just about anybody-except Mousse and his speed-demon girlfriend. Plus, if he thought Mousse could fight the fight; well, she was better.
He looked at the disaster zone he'd inadvertently created. Gotta rebuild the track, put up new shelves and glass, clean up the mess... He sighed. At least he found something to cure his boredom.
130 Haight Rd, over four hours later:
The lights were off, the curtains shut. She wanted it that way. This way the buzzing would stop, the pounding in her head would go away, and the sunlight would stop its intrusion-there'd be blissful peace.
So the hangover would go away. God, this is the last time I ever listen to another one of Maria's brain-damaged ideas. "Let's go partying!" I feel worse than the last time I had Akane's cooking... Her stomach, though crying for release, stayed firm.
Ms. Shan Fu Lao, known to friends and family simply as Shampoo, tried to go back to sleep, but couldn't. She reached for her blanket, but couldn't find it. All she had was her bedsheets and her nightgown...wait...where was her nightgown? She looked over the entire room. There, strewn about the place, was her nightgown, the dress she'd worn last night, her panties and bra, the contents of her purse, et cetra. Her cat, Mige, was busy tearing up her pantyhose.
I slept in the nude again. Oh well, she mentally shrugged for a second, until the pounding started again, accompanied by the buzz. How long is this damn hangover going to last? she thought. Glancing at the clock, she mentally screamed, It's 5:17 PM, for cryin' out loud! Hangover go awa-
Waitaminit. 5:17?
Oh my God...I was supposed to pick her up at the airport at 9:20 this morning!
Then she realized. The buzzing was her alarm clock set to buzzer mode, usually guaranteed to wake her up. The knocking...
...was someone at the door!
"Hold on! I'm coming!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. She tried to step out of her bed, tripped over Mige, and did a face plant. This is what you get for being so insensitive, Shampoo. She crawled over to the far window and opened it, letting the sun sting her eyes as the late afternoon sun roared in.
She paused to look at herself in the stand-up mirror. Still have that great body, firm breasts, great complexion; Ranma honey, this is what you lost out on! And she wasn't kidding either: while Mousse had changed drastically in his appearance over the last six years, the only thing in Shampoo's appearance that had changed in that same time was her wardrobe. She still looked much like the sixteen-year-old fighter that had challenged Ranma in China, so long ago. The only difference was Chinese clothing out, Tommy Hilfiger and Levi's in.
Visually, she hadn't changed. Inside she had. She wasn't even remotely the same girl who had made the vow to leave Japan six years ago. For one, she was firmly entrenched here, having become an American citizen a little over three years ago; after her great-grandmother had finally passed away four years back, there was no reason to go back to the PRC...and no desire to. The last time she'd been to Asia was at Nabiki's wedding, three months after Cologne had died. She was the only living member left of the Lao clan, and since the village forgot her and Mousse once they came to the States, she was on her own. She'd made a life for herself in that time, and was totally, truly happy, just her and Mousse.
Which was another thing. Mousse. How could she explain it to him? She didn't feel the fierce love towards him that she did for Ranma. There was no doubt that she did love him, and wanted to spend the rest of her life near him, just not as his spouse.
It wouldn't be fair to him anyway, she admitted. He wants, needs somebody that's in love with him. I do love him, I'm just not in love with him. Which was why, after six years, they were still "just dating." To his credit, Mousse didn't complain, nor did he press the issue; maturity must have did that to him somewhere along the line, she mused, and it was a good thing too-she hated to have to pound him into the floor every time he got anal-retentive about their relationship. But the status quo was the status quo, and she liked it that way.
The sound of a key being turned suddenly ran in her ears. She knew Libby was visiting her parents in Seattle, so that couldn-Wait. I gave Mousse a key! Not paying attention to what she was-or wasn't-wearing, she leapt over the second floor railing and sprinted to the front door. She got there just as the door opened.
There, standing at the door with a pert grin, was her visitor...or more accurately, new roommate. Out on the street, Mousse was parking the car and grabbing the girl's luggage.
"Gomen nasai," Shampoo said, bowing uncomfortably (she hadn't done it since Nabiki's wedding) and speaking in Japanese. "Shampoo forget. Please to forgive Shampoo."
"Don't worry," the other girl replied in English. "Mousse explained it all, and it's no biggie anyway. I would've taken a cab, but didn't know the street address."
Shampoo smiled, and her eyes got watery. She hugged the girl, saying, "Ni Hao. Welcome to your new home, roomie."
"Thanks. It's good to be home," an equally watery-eyed Ranko Saotome said.