The Hasegawa clan had once been horse-bound - had, in fact been on personal retainer to the shogun as masters of the horse - and had once had vast estates for the training of cavalry and horse archers on the outskirts of Edo. Most of that estate had been taken away - or given up freely - during the Meiji restoration, but through a series of clever arrangements and deals, most of the land was back under the control of the head of the Hasegawa clan - Saotome Nodoka. It had been her father's life's work, getting the ancestral estate back, and in such a fashion that it could not be taken away in the same manner again. Through bequests and marriage gifts, Hasegawa clansmen owned a quarter of Nerima ward, and pieces of the two neighboring wards - and a small part of all rents ended up in the Saotome purse.
The only part of all that land that was ostensibly under the direct control of the clan head, though, was the ancestral house - the oldest structure in the neighborhood, by far, having originally been erected while Edo was still a fishing village. It had been destroyed by fire several times, extended twice since the last time, and extensively renovated in the months before the matron's youngest child, but the proud lady of the house could still point to the two slightly singed beams that remained of the original construction, and say that they dated from the fourteen hundreds - that the spirit of the house remained.
Ranma knew all this, having had several letters on the topic while he was younger, but he hadn't actually seen the house other than in photographs for over fourteen years - his last visit to the ward had been three years later, and had been restricted to the hospital's maternity ward. It was one of those memories that would always stay his hand, however angry he would become with his father - talking to his mother in a payphone a with a hundred miles left to go, as her water broke, and being picked up by his father and carried, full speed, towards the hospital where she was being taken. They had made it, barely - his mother had held on for dear life, to give her husband a chance to hold their child that first night. Six-year-old Ranma had fallen in love at first sight.
They hadn't been back since, although Ranma had written to his mother, and his sister, every week since he could hold a pen and form a recognizable kanji. At first, his father had helped - another precious memory, reading his letters on his father's knee, with a steady hand guiding him as he formed the reply. Little Kimiko (named in honor of a dear friend of his father) had written her first letter back when she was four - a letter Ranma kept close to his heart.
As they neared the house, dressed to the nines (Ranma had insisted on getting formal Kimono for all of them, and his father had only grumbled a little before agreeing), he noted the changes against the last series of pictures - admittedly a few years old now. The satellite dish was new - and felt out of place, really. Perhaps it could be moved to an adjacent building, with a cable drawn in instead? But that was minor - especially compared to the archery range that had been built on what had been a vacant property in the pictures. Ranma had read in the letters that his mother had taken up the old family art again, and was teaching Kimiko, but he had thought that was on a public range. Was she thinking of teaching full time?
Ranma had no time to ponder that further, as he was tackled bodily by a red streak of lightning that bolted from the front door.
"Ranma-niisan!" came the joyful shout a moment later, almost as if the little bundle of energy had traveled faster than sound, although that was hopefully just an illusion. Carefully, he caught his sister under her arms and lifted her up - not that she needed much lifting, he noted.
"Who are you, and why are you wearing my sisters kimono?" he asked in feigned confusion. Kimiko belted him over the head with one fist, laughing.
"It's me, Oniichan! I'm your sister!" she pouted.
"So you are. And why aren't you in your room playing with your dolls?" That question earned him another blow to the head.
"Because you're here!" Kimiko exclaimed.
"And what am I, then? Chopped liver?" their father rumbled. Kimiko spun her head around, grinned hugely, and somehow managed to use Ranma's chest as a springboard to propel herself into the arms of her father, who was only slightly more prepared for the assault than Ranma had been.
"Otousan!" she enthused. Looking down at the girl currently wrapped around his waist, Genma held out his hands a foot apart, and glanced up at them forlornly before looking down again.
"Where did my little girl go?" he complained. "The last time I saw you, you were this big."
"Nuh uh." Kimiko reached up and adjusted his hands a few inches. "I was this big."
"You were? How amazing," Genma gasped in surprise. Kimiko jabbed her fist in his gut, then looked at the third of the travelers. Her eyes grew big.
"This, is Xian Pu, of the Village of the Woman Hero Tribe, in China," Ranma introduced, formally. "And this, is Saotome Kimiko, my little sister."
Both girls bowed, seriously. Then they looked at each other for a long moment, until Kimiko finally popped out the question that was most likely burning in her head.
"Is your name really Shampoo?" she asked, in a slightly awed voice. To her credít, Xian Pu didn't even grimace.
"No, is Xian Pu. Is hard to say in Japanese, so you can say Shampoo if like. I no mind," she explained.
"You talk funny, Shampoo!" Kimiko giggled. At this, more than one of those present frowned, but Xian Pu handled it admirably on her own.
"When Xian Pu was little, was given choice - learn one language very good, or many language not so good. Xian Pu choose many. Someday, maybe speak good Japanese," she explained. Before Kimiko could ask anything else, the quartet noticed that they had become a quintet, as Nodoka had joined them.
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(Posted Sun, 22 Aug 2004 22:09)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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