The Blue Thunder rose to a seated attitude, and noted with satisfaction that his matchless constitution had overcome the residual effects of whatever had caused that most uncharacteristic fainting spell. No doubt the his sister had had another accident in her greenhouses again and let some toxin or other loose in the house; there was no other credible explanation for such an improbable hallucination, nor for the manner in which the room swirled around him the first few times he tried to rise from the pallet in the nurses’ office.
Briefly, he wondered what was in the tablet the nurse had forced him to take, and whether it would adversely react with whatever his sibling had inadvertently dosed him with, but dismissed the matter immediately; his constitution would overcome any such reactions with little more than momentary inconvenience. It was curious how he had passed out again shortly after taking the chalky pill, though.
He stood, grabbed his bokken from where it lay across the desk, and turned to the door. Finding it locked, he applied his mighty intellect to the matter of obtaining egress, quickly determining that the correct course of action was a firm strike with the bokken against the lock, breaking it asunder. It was a most sturdy piece of hardware, for the shock of breaking it was sufficient to drive him to knees, but it yielded as he intended and he stepped into the hallway.
He paused at the bottom of the stairs before ascending to his normal classroom, for he could not hear the subdued drone of the teachers in the many classrooms. Stepping to the nearest door, he saw the classroom occupied only by a studious couple poised over a shogi board, and through the windows the unmistakable crowds of lunchtime.
Dismayed by the potency of his sister’s latest accident, he paused only to make the critical move in the shogi game (explaining its significance clearly) before leaving to find his sweetheart and reaffirm his intention to keep her safe from this insidious ravisher, this Saotome Ranma.
Ranma sighed happily and set aside her depleted bento. While it wasn’t really quite big enough (although she noted that it was as large as Akane’s, which was itself half again as large as either of the friends invited to sit with them), Kasumi had managed to concoct a veritable smorgasbord of delightful flavours and textures in the humble packed lunch. In the absence of her father, she had merely eaten quickly; but, with the questions from Yuka and Sayuri, not quickly enough.
Seeing the hopeful look directed at her own bento, Akane said, “No, you can’t have the rest of my lunch.” She giggled. “You know, in some ways you are like your father, Ranma.”
Ranma let her face twist in exaggerated horror. “Akane! I thought you were my friend!”
“More foood, Ranma-chaan?” parodied Akane, waving loaded chopsticks just out of the redhead’s reach. She jerked the pinch of rice back when Ranma lunged, quickly tucking it into her own mouth and smirking at her friend’s mock-disappointed expression.
“Ohh…” whined Ranma, pouting. Then she shrugged. “Oh, well.” She nibbled the pickle in her own utensils.
Akane blinked. “Uhh…” She looked down. “That – where did you…”
“Oh, it’s Yuka’s,” said Ranma off-handedly. “Not up to Kasumi’s standards, but one makes do.”
Sayuri, who had been watching the horseplay with amusement, collapsed in a fit of giggles. Yuka, who had likewise been paying attention to the pair and not to her own bento, spluttered incoherently as Ranma nibbled delicately at the purloined provision.
“You,” said Akane severely, “are evil.”
Ranma swallowed, and nodded happily. “I…”
“Have no fear, Fair Tigress, for I shall vanquish this pretender for thy hand!”
The four girls stiffened, their mirth stifled. Akane groaned, and her longstanding friends sighed. Ranma twisted around to spear the interruption with a glare.
“Who, or what, are you?”
The tall boy in the hakama directed his intense gaze onto her, frowning. His eyes, she noticed, lingered on her upper body even as he orated at her.
“I have the honour of being the new star of the High School Kendo Circuit, the undefeated champion and captain of the Furinkan High School Kendo Team; my peers call me the ‘Blue Thunder’!” he declared. Lightning struck in the background. “Kuno Tatewaki, age seventeen.”
“‘Blue Thunder’?” muttered Sayuri, turning her back on him. “I’m sure it was ‘Shooting Star’ last week.” Yuka snickered weakly, glancing nervously at the overbearing older boy. Akane was not inclined to be amused.
“Kuno…!”
“There is no need to thank me,” said the boy portentously. “Defending your virtue from a dishonourable coward like this Saotome Ranma is a duty a samurai is pleased to perform for any maiden.”
“Dishonourable…”
“…Coward?”
Discretely, Sayuri and Yuka moved away from their fulminating friends.
“Indeed, for he hides from my might and the punishment the heavens themselves decree for forcing a fair maiden against her will. He is no man, I say, a craven cur hiding behind the skirts of women!”
“I ain’t takin’ any more of this,” muttered Ranma, easing to her feet. “We don’t want you around here, so shut up and go away or I’ll make you go away.”
The tall boy blinked in apparent confusion. “You think you can combat the Blue Thunder?” he asked. “A delicate flower such as yourself? I think it improbable in the extreme; but, should you win, I shall permit you to date me.”
Ranma’s lips curled. “Who would want to date you?” she retorted, jumping above a diagonal slash of his bokken. Before he could complete the stroke, her foot flicked out, leaving a dirty mark on his cheekbone. He staggered a little, regaining his form in time to meet her as she threw a punch at his lower chest. He folded with a whoosh of exhaled air, and then flew across the concrete from a solid strike from a sidekick to the head.
He blinked a few times, as the bell rang for the end of lunch, and then closed his eyes. He would not attend classes that afternoon…
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(Posted Sun, 24 Jun 2007 18:46)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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