Setsuna was reveling in her memories of the first time she and Ranma had admitted that they loved each other (though it took an awful lot of work to get Ranma to admit it to himself) when she was suddenly inter—
Rock the cradle of love
Rock the cradle of love
Yes the cradle of love don’t rock easily
It’s true.
Setsuna jumped when she heard the music blaring, knocking her head on a lighting fixture. Grasping her chest, she turned around to see an androgynous teenaged race car driver lip syncing to Billy Idol. The green-haired homeowner tried to ignore the way the bass was making her walls vibrate as she stormed over to the CD player and pulled the plug.
“Aw, c’mon, it was just getting to the good part!” Haruka Ten’oh said in a mock-whine.
“Haruka, do you have to keep playing that song?”
“You want I should switch to ‘White Wedding’?”
“No.”
“How about ‘Dancing With Myself’?”
Setsuna screwed up her face at that one. “What does a song about masturbation have to do with my marriage?”
“Well, you’ve certainly been doing it a lot since you got hitched.” Haruka smirked as her green-haired housemate started to blush. Nabiki was right; this was fun. “And to think you used to complain about the noise me and Michiru make. At least we didn’t need to buy Hotaru earplugs.” That comment made Setsuna go even redder. “Come to think of it, maybe I should add ‘Rebel Yell’ to the rotation. What do you think?”
The green-haired senshi groaned. “Okay, so I’ve been a bit… enthusiastic. You would too if your spouse had to leave for a three-month trip to China right after your wedding ceremony.”
“So why didn’t you get married earlier?”
“Because he couldn’t get married legally before that day.”
“You two married on his eighteenth birthday?”
“Yes. Is that a problem?”
“Nope,” chirped Haruka, who proceeded to hum the hook from “Cradle of Love” again.
“Haruka, I’ve told you, it’s not like that.”
“Then what is it like? Why have you been so secretive of this? You know Usagi’s not going to be happy when she learns that she missed your wedding.”
That was true enough. The Princess was the type of person who’d do just about anything to make sure she was present at all the important events in her friends’ lives. She wouldn’t be pleased that Setsuna had kept this a secret. “Look, you don’t understand, Ranma has goals of his own—and I won’t interfere with them.”
“Won’t, or can’t because he makes the Time Gates go all caddywampus?”
“Won’t,” the Time Guardian replied emphatically.
“Okay, keep your shirt on. It’s just that you’ve refused to tell us anything about him! If I didn’t know better (and I don’t), I’d say you were hiding something.”
“Like what?”
“Like maybe this ‘Ranma’ isn’t the ‘man’ you claim he is and you have more in common with Michiru and me than you let on,” the racer said with a wink.
Setsuna responded with a glare. “Haruka, there are many things about Ranma that I won’t tell you, because I’d rather you found out when you met him. But even if I can’t keep track of him with the Time Gates, I can tell you one thing for certain. Ranma is definitely not a woman.”
On the outskirts of Nerima, a busty redhead abruptly sneezed.
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(Posted Mon, 16 Jan 2006 19:09)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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