Let it be known that Akane Tendo had no intention of losing. Her pride, which exceeded her skill, could not permit her to lose. Granted, she was a formidable fighter, but nowhere near her adversaries level.
Paradoxically, she had no intention of letting Ranma get turned into a girl, either. Indeed, she had already planned out her (realistically speaking somewhat unlikely) post-victory rescue from his terrible fate. Emotionally speaking, she quivered in anticipation of her (not exactly) inevitable triumph. Intellectually, she was aware that Ranma Saotome outclassed her by about an order of magnitude.
Just as he had four months ago.
So, while Akane would have liked to have been surprised when Ranma quite literally seemed to vanish before her fist could make contact, she couldn't quite manage it. Instead, she tensed, and hadn't even withdrawn her fist when the world went slightly dim. Remembering past massacres fights, she instinctively dived to the side before Ranma could lightly stomp on her head. She rolled to her feet, spinning in place to face her adversary, who spoke for the first time since the fight had started.
"Heh. Clumsy Tomboy."
Akane knew it was coming. Ranma never acknowledged her skill, pelting her instead with barbed comments, which often hooked into her easily bruised ego. It had been the pattern ever since they'd first met, and she was ready for the inevitable taunting. She was as steel against Ranma's jeers.
"Rrrrraaaannmaaa!"
Well, not really.
"Biiiiiidaaaaa!" Ranma called, sticking his tongue out as he flipped over a series of wild swings. Akane was seeing red, so to speak, and bulled in at her opponent almost heedless of anything else. And, smirking in that oh-so-infuriating way of his, Ranma effortlessly evaded her. This, in turn, only served to make her more irritated.
Ranma, meanwhile, felt his spirits soar. Akane had, as was her wont, fallen under the sway of her rage. Which meant that the fight was his; he was certain it was all over except for the shouting, even giving out a mental cheer of, "Not gonna be a giiir-rrrl!" This internal distraction, it should be noted, did not prevent him from eluding Akane's rush.
Like always, when Akane let her temper get the better of her, her combat effectiveness dropped by about half. Ranma scooted outside of a clumsy roundhouse kick, admiring the Macho-chicks raw power, if nothing else, and once again swore to himself that he'd make her a proper practitioner of the Art someday.
There were a few reasons for this; the first was that she had... potential. Not as much as him, of course, no one did, but she could be so much better than she was. The next was that he felt that he owed her; he had butted into a fight of hers thinking she was in trouble. Which wouldn't actually have meant much except that, maybe, just a tiny bit, he kinda, sorta liked her.
But one last reason stood above all others in importance. It was a simple fact that made forging the Tendo daughter into a formidable fighter a high priority; Ranma training Akane bugged Genma to no end. Which, it might be said, was something of an understatement. Ranma wasn't exactly certain what Pops problem was, and he didn't care much either.
Although he did wonder what a hot-dog made of whale fat had to do with anything.
On auto-pilot now, he absentmindedly veered around a pair of punches that could have knocked his lights out, thinking forward to the joy of seeing Pops face purple ever so-slightly as he told him he'd fought with that "damned Tendo girl" again. Then, as usual, the Elder Saotome would launch into a rant about how girls were useless and a distraction to the Art, adding in a few choice words for her ancestry, before attacking him for getting "soft."
Then, again as usual, Ranma would stomp him into the ground. Which he'd been planning on doing anyway, but this would make the ensuing beat-down ever so slightly more satisfying.
Still on auto-pilot, Ranma ducked Akane's open-palmed strike, bent backwards out of the range of her following kick, and then poked her in the forehead, pushing her out of position. Idly wondering why in hell his stupid Old Man would send him here, he gave Akane a hard shove before she could properly set herself again.
Now seriously off balance, the girl waved her arms wildly and fell over backwards. Ranma did not think that that would do much more than annoy the Tomboy, and was pleased to see her spring to her feet after only a moment, her face almost livid.
Ranma smiled in a manner that was almost entirely too friendly, before suddenly it faded into a frown. "Weird," he thought "usually that'd piss her off more." Indeed, Akane had suddenly, and quite inexplicably, regained her composure. Ranma felt a sudden, slight nervousness at the sight of the oddity, before a new eagerness replaced it. Finally, finally it seemed as though Akane was on the verge of mastering her temper, which in turn would make her a far more entertaining opponent.
Though he did kind of wonder why she was waving her arms around like that. The gesture seemed completely useless, though for some reason, her felt a strange, hair-prickling sensation at the back of his neck. Still, he opened his mouth to let loose a casual insult...
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(Posted Fri, 05 May 2006 05:53)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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