Ranma spared the busy streets little of his attention. The people crowding it this early morning were some what annoying, but nothing he couldn't deal with. Besides, he had to think. Change was in the air, obviously, now he just had to decide how far he was willing to go with it. He'd damn near killed Nabiki and Hinako, even if that wasn't his intention to begin with, raped his mother and shoved her 'Manly' fetish up her ass, literally, showed Akane and her wuss of a Father he wasn't going to take anymore of their shit, and just to be cruel he had accosted Kasumi. Was that a bit much? Had he gone overboard with all this?
"Touch those fucking flowers and yer dead!" Ranma scowled, a intimidating glow surrounding him as he glared balefully at a salary-man reaching into a bin of flowers. The guy sweated a bit, his hand hesitating for a moment as he tried to figure out whether apologizing to his wife for banging her sister was more important then his life. Apparently choosing the better part of valor, he took off in a run, an action that no doubt saved his life.
Ranma eyed the man as he ran through the crowed. Wussy. Reaching out and grabbing a handful of mismatched flowers, he spared the merchant a harrowing gaze. "How much?"
Nervously tugging at the collar of his shirt, the Vendor stuttered, "Fif..fifty yen?" he squeaked pathetically. He didn't care if the actual price was much higher, he'd rather live then piss off Ranma Saotome, the guy being a kind of local legend in Nerima.
Rustling through his pocket, he flipped the 50 yen piece to the cowardly vendor before moving off.
Now, back to the matter at hand. Was he going to far with all this? Did it even matter if he had or hadn't? He doubted things would ever go back to the same ole same ole, the quivering pile of flesh that was his mother wouldn't let it. Besides, he didn't think he could ever go back to being Ranma 'Walk all over me' Saotome. Nope, no way, no how, not happening. That still left the question of what he was going to do now. He would be loath to admit it to anyone, but he wasn't the smartest apple under the tree when it came to planning for the future. Hmmm.
He blinked, eyeing a nearby sign. "Welcome to Shishinoa Apartment Complex." Wow, got here sooner then he thought.
When he had first arrived here in Nerima and began attending Furikan High School, there had been this one girl he had met and, at the time, hated with all his passion. While Nabiki was the uncontested money shark, black mailing, and all around Yakuza wannabe for such things, there was another aspect to the school that was largely overlooked. Not that he couldn't sympathize with it, at least now. With all the boy's attention focused on Akane, many of the girls who felt no doubt snubbed by the popularity of the youngest Tendo had started to become desperate. Desperation lead to anger in some cases, depression in others, to acceptance. One girl, a senior at the time, by the name of Natasha Mizuhara gave most of the girls a reason to 'up' their spirits. Her 'gift' was a product of a herb plant, also known as Cannibus. Needless to say, once he had discovered that kind of crap was circulating the school he had put an end to it right quick. Natasha never did like him, especially after he had beat her ass when she initially refused to stop selling the stuff, which thinking back on it he really couldn't blame her.
Ranma stared at the little mail boxes, going through the listing of residents and what apartment number they lived at. Nodding to himself, he gave the apartment complex a look over, before heading on his way.
Natasha had graduated that year, and that was the last he had ever heard of her. Well, not really. He didn't know it when he first met her and snubbed her little operations, but she was actually part of a criminal street gang known as the 'Slashers', and this 'gang' didn't take well to the fact some snot nosed know it all martial arts asshole had cut into their business. After the third or fourth 'hit squad' had come around looking for him, well, he just got tired of it and beat some information out of them. He had been meaning to come here before his 'shift' anyway, just never found the time with all the crap going down. Well, now that he had 'shifted', he had an entirely new reason to come here. He just hoped Natasha liked flowers, oh, and she still didn't hate his guts.
"Wicked party man." a punk, maybe a little older then him, but not by much, came walking down the stairs. He looked buffed, not overly so, and he could tell the guy had some martial arts training, which wasn't a surprise in the least bit. Head shaved, wearing a white muscle shirt and blue denim jeans with a black and blue bandana carefully folded and hanging from his belt that looked very familiar, he just screamed 'Gangsta'. Not Yakuza, he figured they tended to wear suits and the like, but a criminal street gang type.
"Damn yo. Nate can play some wicked Mario Cart." another punk, dressed similar, just a little bit chunkier and with a lit cigarette.
Ranma spared the area around them a look over. This apartment complex was spread out with multiple buildings. This one, labeled A, had four apartments. Two at the bottom, and a set of stairs leading to a small hallway of sorts where the other two were located. Glancing at the bottom apartments, noticing the numbers on the door frames, he quickly took to the stairs. "Excuse me, you two know if Natasha Mizuhara lives round here?"
The one with the cigarette thumbed upwards, "Yeah, up there. Kinda late for the party, tho."
The first punk frowned a bit, "Yo, G, I know you from some where?"
Ranma frowned, eyeing the punk closely. When no recognition immediately came to mind, he snapped, "No." and continued up the stairs, unmindful as the punk's frown increased as he went.
The first punk paled suddenly, before taking off in a mad dash, his friend with the cigarette blinked, "Yo! Jiro! Wait up yo!"
Ranma spared them no mind, reaching the apex of the stairs. He was only slightly surprised to find Natasha's apartment door open. Seeing it as a 'Come in if you like' gesture, he did just that. The apartment wasn't small, but wasn't big by any stretch of the imagination. The main room comprised of a sofa, a coffee table with numerous cigarette holders packed to the gills with spent cigarettes, a decent stereo system with a console sitting out on the floor that connected to a TV. The couch was currently occupied with a guy and two girls, the former asleep with his head rolled back on the couch while the girls busied themselves with rolling a big fat joint. One of them looked up as he entered, catching his attention. "Hey, Natasha here?"
"Uh, yeah.." the girl passed a package of zig zags to the other girl, "She's in her room. Want me to get her?" she asked while standing up.
"Nah." Ranma waved the girl off, "I got this."
The girl raised an eyebrow at that, watching as he moved into the hallway, acting like he owned the place. If she wasn't stoned, or a wee bit drunk, she might have stopped him from bugging her room mate. Falling back to the couch, the point became rather moot.
---
Natasha Mizuhara hated her lot in life. Born a 'ai no ko', her father a Russian soldier who had raped her mother before getting his head blown off, she was forced to endure in typical Japanese fashion the bigotry and racism of a people who tended to snub there noses at such things. Her mother wasn't all that much better then her father, which was saying something since she had never actually met him. A Yakuza woman, she was often the bed mate of many an up coming gangster, hoping against hope she'd land herself a sugar daddy that would take care of all her needs. Growing up in an environment where the only time you got to see your mother was when she was on her back after getting her ass and cunt plugged with a man's cock tended not to be very ideal. Guess she got hers when one of her former 'clients' came back and put a gat in her ass for giving him aids, well, it was obvious she'd have issues later in life.
Unwilling to go the route of her mother, that of a weak willed whore able and quite willing to spread her legs at the first flash of cash, she had picked a more lucrative, and more dangerous route of the Street Pharmacist, or Drug Dealer if you preferred. It was completely by chance she met Yamada, the head G of the Slashers. He was gay, which wasn't something you could tell by looking at him, which allowed her to become rather quick friends with the guy. He had given her the start she needed to stand on her own two feet, a start that had been thrashed with the arrival of a certain bastard...
Natasha scowled, picking up a dart and almost negligently throwing it at her door where a Dart Board with the picture of a certain pigtailed bastard was tacked on. She nearly screamed as the door opened. Idiot! Mizuho knew better then to just walk in with out knocking! What was wrong with that...
Ranma swung the door open, a silly little grin plastered on his face. "Yo! Nat.." he tilted his head to the side, just in time as her dart flew by and nailed into the wall out in the hallway, ".. asha! Good ta see ya ain't lose yer aim none!" He eyed the room quizzically. Rather sparse, he guessed. Just a bed, a dresser with numerous curios littered across the top, a mirror, and a couple of throwing knives on her bed. Turning his attention to the girl, he held back a wolf whistle. Natasha was about a inch taller then he was, a gift from her Russian side, with a chiseled jaw line, expressive blue eyes, and short blackish blond hair done up in a small pony tail. She was wearing a muscle shirt, which did little to hide her green bra or the generous swell of her tits, the front rolled up into a little ball exposing her midriff and pierced belly button, with loose black denim pants that were practically falling off her hips, just a tiny tease of her green underwear visible on her hips. In conclusion, a total fox. She certainly had changed in the year or so since he last saw her.
"Ranma.." the girl mumbled, shock evident with just a tad bit of anger present. "Yo, you stupid or somethin? You wanna get cut?" she threatened, reaching behind her back and gripping a throwing knife. She hated the prick, but even she didn't give herself good odds at coming out of a fight with him. Scratch that, she didn't give herself any odds of coming out of a fight with him.
The boy just kept on smiling, toeing the door closed lest things got.. noisy. He offered up his flowers, ignoring the picture of himself tacked on the dart board. "Yer lookin beautiful, as always."
Natasha found herself a little off guard here. It wasn't every day the bane of one's existence showed up in her crib, the one place she was the most secure. Johnny was outside, knocked out though so he wouldn't be any help if things got physical. Mizuho was probably stoned, wasn't much of a fighter either, not to mention her slutty friend Kisha. Nope, all of this really stressed the fact if Ranma got physical, there really wasn't much she could do about it. The fact he was offering her flowers just threw her more off kilter. Glaring suspiciously at the offered flowers, she deadpanned, "What the hell is this about?
"Just a little peace offering.." Ranma pouted, which instead of being cute, his little smirk just made it aggravating.
"You can take those flowers and shove em up yer ass." she spit on him, nailing him right in the eye.
Ranma sighed, dropping the flowers as he wiped the spit off his face. "Cranky little skank, ain't ya?"
"Fuck you!" Natasha saw red. Here was the guy who practically ruined her reputation with Yamada, destroyed any chance she might of had of rising above a street soldier in the gang, and now he was offering her flowers? Peachy clean her ass. Acting on instincts honed through many street fights, she threw two of her knives in rapid succession, the tiny little blades shooting straight for their mark.
Or, well, would have if this had been anyone else but Ranma. Almost negligently, the martial artist caught the blades, "Such a spitfire, think I'm in love." he sarcastically bit out, before flinging one of the knives back at the girl. She was just a wee bit to slow to dodge the incoming attack, but that didn't stop her from trying. Leaping for her bed, she hissed as she felt her leg light up in pain, the tiny dagger tearing deep into her leg but thankfully missing the bone. Scrambling for more daggers, she managed to snag two more. Twisting on her bed to attack the bastard, she froze instantly as Ranma pressed the deadly end of her other knife against her throat. "Don't wanna cut that pretty little neck of yers, Natasha." he smiled brightly, "How about you come off this PMS trip and we talk." he pressed the dagger harder against her throat, small drops of blood escaping her skin and running down the length of the blade.
Natasha sent him a glare that could kill lesser men, slowly, carefully dropping the knives in her hands as she leaned back. The pain from her leg didn't bother her, she was use to ignoring things like that. The life of a Street Soldier wasn't kind, not kind at all. "Talk." she snapped.
Ranma smiled cheerfully, twirling that deadly knife in his hand. "That's more like it."
---
Let's Look Towards
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(Posted Mon, 17 Jan 2005 23:36)
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