“Damn,” muttered Ran, as he slowly came to, rubbing his forehead, “that idiot may be a battle genius, but he’s a complete fool in other areas.”
The two had fought in the mental landscape for hours, testing each other’s defenses, and trying to gain an advantage. It was more of a challenge for Ranma, as Ran had gone through much worse to achieve his level of skill. Compared to Ran, Ranma’s training—including the Nekoken—was child’s play.
But Ranma had shown Ran that he was capable of improvement ... at least in a battle.
“He won’t learn in life, though,” the reincarnated prince said, a sad smile on his face. “If he keeps going the way he is now, he’ll only suffer more in the future.”
To say Ran wasn’t a big fan of his new life was a large understatement. He could list the faults of Ranma quickly, and still be busy for a few minutes.
But did he have the right to? It wasn’t his life.
But then again it was his life, his soul, no matter what window it peeked out from, it was still him at the core.
And he would sooner face a dozen Queens of Venus—no matter what she says, it is not okay to be in a room alone with her—than allow this to continue. He had new responsibilities now, and the less distractions he had, the better.
He had dealt with the rivals.
Now, he would need to deal with the love interests.
“I can’t believe Ranma did that,” muttered Akane, sitting at the table with her family, waiting for Ranma’s return. He had been gone for four days now, ever since he ... since he went psycho on the others.
There was some good news. Kuno would likely regain the full use of that arm after some physical therapy. His cries of lawsuit fell on deaf ears, considering he had been armed, even if it was a bokken. The police who had arrived with the medics knew enough about him that even the family’s wealth wouldn’t be enough to push past such evidence to allow the challenge in court.
According to the doctor’s, Mousse’s recovery would take a while longer. But he was likely only going to be carrying inflatable duck cushions for a long time.
Ryoga was being nursed back to health by Akane in the spare bedroom (Happosai’s room), while he recovered from a beating that made the Breaking Point training seem like a mild slap. Most of the time, someone had to be in there with him to either escort him to the bathroom, or ensure he didn’t use his chi attack and blow up the house in a fit of depression.
The others in the house remained silent during those days, as if the subject of Ranma had become taboo.
“I wonder when Ranma-kun will come back,” said Kasumi, looking at the clock. “I hope he makes it back for dinner today.”
And for some, no subject was taboo.
Nabiki stayed silent. Her mind was still trying to wrap itself around the notion that Ranma had finally started fighting back, and without the kiddy gloves. It didn’t bode well for her future plans of extortion from the pigtailed martial artist.
“Yo.”
The group slowly panned to the doorway to the back yard, where Ranma was leaning against the frame, his hair black and green still, his posture relaxed, and a smile on his face.
“Where have you been, Boy?” yelled Genma.
“Out.”
“Out where, Ranma-kun?” asked Nodoka, standing up, and smoothing out her kimono.
“Just thinking about things, mostly,” said Ranma.
Ran couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious for a fight to break out. He wondered who would start a confrontation first after he entered the home. Would the fathers try and bully him into a quick marriage—it always seemed to be their solution to any problem, even if Ranma and Akane had no involvement in the situation—or demand Ranma do something, most likely explain whatever techniques he had used to defeat the three boys? Or would his mother in this life make some demands? Perhaps Akane would blow a cork and attack him for ‘striking poor little Ryoga’? Hell, for all he knew, the Amazons and Ukyo were on their way, or perhaps Kodachi would show up, elated that her brother would be out of her hair for a few weeks.
Truthfully, he was walking into a loaded trap, one that could explode any number of ways. Hell, he hadn’t even considered what the Old Letch might have up his sleeve, after hearing of his little examples at Furinkan.
And to be honest, he felt elated. Fighting was nice, a pastime he had enjoyed during the Sol Kingdoms. It was one thing he shared with his new life.
“Son,” said Nodoka, looking at him, “why did you hurt those boys so much?”
“They wanted a fight,” said Ran, still pretending to be Ranma. “I gave them one. Not my fault if they bit off more than they could chew, and expected me to play with gloves on.”
The others continued to stare at him, as if he was someone else. Truthfully, he was, but he found their confusion to be ... nice.
“What if they decide to sue us, Saotome?” asked Nabiki.
Ran shrugged. “They’d have more to lose than I would, what with all the declaring they intended to kill me in front of multiple witnesses on multiple occasions, attacking me with a wide range of weapons, and with clear disregard for public safety. Why, I’d imagine any judge would have them locked up the moment any trial started.”
Nabiki continued to stare at him. “That doesn’t sound like the Ranma we know,” she said, starting to wonder if perhaps this was even their Ranma. Their Ranma never acted so brutally, so precise, and with such an acute mind.
Ran smirked. “I am only the sum of all of my parts. Far be it from me to force myself to stay in a predefined role to suit your desires, Tendo.”
“You!”
Ran slowly turned, spotting the still bandaged Ryoga standing in the hallway, glaring at him. “Hey.”
“Is that all you have to say for yourself, Ranma?” growled out Ryoga.
“Pretty much,” said Ran, buffing his nails against his shirt. “I mean, you challenged me, and you lost. What else is there?”
“I’ll get you yet!”
Ranma slowly raised his eyes, glaring at Ryoga, the room seeming to chill a few degrees. “Just remember, child, I don’t play anymore. I wonder how many bones I have to break before you learn that.”
His eyes closed slightly, a sudden wave of pain striking his mind. Damn, Ranma is upset. Looks like the little bastard figured a way to get at me from inside the forest.
Refocusing on the real world, Ran pushed aside the pain, as he resumed looking around. “Anyone else want to ask a question?” He was a bit surprised though. All this time, and none of them had asked about his hair.
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(Posted Wed, 07 Feb 2007 13:56)
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