One morning, after the traditional melee for the right to keep his breakfast, Ranma made an announcement to the residents of the Tendo Dojo. “I’m gonna go on a training journey.”
Nabiki raised a skeptical eyebrow. “What brought this on, Saotome?”
Ranma shrugged. “Just feels like it’s time, ya know? Feels like I’ve been hangin’ ‘round here a bit too long. It’s gotten kinda dull. B’sides, it’s summer. Not like I got school ta worry about.”
“So, where to, Son?” Genma was apparently already packed. “I’ve found an ancient scroll describing a rather intriguing regimen. It requires the use of an active volcano. You’re still a virgin, right?”
“…” Everyone else edged away a little from the part-time panda.
“Aaaactually, I was thinkin’ of goin’ alone,” Ranma replied. The mere thought of another extended trip with his father…ugh.
“Yourself?” Akane stood in her indignant fury. “You can barely keep yourself presentable to society! You think you can just waltz off into the wilderness for who knows how long!?”
“Oh, see how she cares so for her fiancé!” Soun wept joyfully.
“…” This brought a blush to Akane’s face. She sat back down. “Fine,” she huffed. “Go. I hope something nasty eats you.”
“Akane…” Ranma paused, harrumphed, and returned the cold shoulder treatment. “Fine. Better there than here.” With that, he strode out the door.
Of course, this being Nerima, no tidbit of gossip can go unknown. Through certain agents who shall remain nameless, (coughNabikicough) every rival, lover, and anyone else with at least a tenuous relationship with Ranma heard that he was planning on departing for parts unknown. While most of those who could were attempting to waylay (or find a way to lay) the pigtailed boy, a certain okonomiyaki chef had other plans.
“Do you understand, Konatsu?” she asked.
“I suppose, Ukyo-sama. But I am woefully unqualified for such a task. Surely you—“
Ukyo sighed. “Konatsu, you are perhaps the stealthiest guy I know. When you show up to take someone’s order, they don’t know you’re there until you cough. If anyone can track Ranma, it’s you.”
“Well…if it is your wish.” The cross-dressing ninja bowed deeply. “I shall try my utmost, Ukyo-sama.” With that, he vanished.
The chef smirked. “Go wherever you like, Ranchan. I’ll be there faster than you can say:”
“RANMA! BECAUSE OF YOU, I HAVE SEEN HELL!”
“Quiet! Some of us are trying to enjoy the match!”
Thusly hushed, Ryoga grumblingly sat back down, somehow moving a few rows in the deceptively simple sequence of movements. As usual, he wasn’t quite sure where he was, but at least this time there was a martial arts tournament of sorts to watch in the meantime.
The idea had been one of Keitaro’s best. After years of being on the receiving end of numerous forms of abuse, he realized that one man’s suffering could be another man’s spectator event. This in mind, he created the Annual Hinata Sou Improbably Powerful Girls Tournament. The grand prize was a month’s paid rent and a date with the landlord. (Of course, all plans for said dates had to be cleared with said landlord’s fiancée.) The tickets for the contest had proven one of the dorm’s more reliable sources of income once yearlong reservations were implemented, and the prize was a massive lure for many of the residents. Kanako even bummed a ride from one of Grandma Hina’s friends every year just to compete.
The current matchup was one of the better ones: Motoko vs. Su. The two Tokyo University freshman were roughly even, the God’s Cry School proving equal to chelonian attack robots. Each year saw mind-blowing new blade techniques and at least four new generations of Mecha-Tamas.
“Standard Improbably Powerful Girls rules apply,” said Keitaro, who also refereed the fights, invulnerability being something of a requirement for the position, “ First unable to continue fighting, whether through knockout, weapon destruction, or forfeit, loses. Disrobing will result in a five minute break for those affected to change clothes.” Indeed, Sarah and Shinobu were standing by with a few spare outfits and towels in case of fan service. “Aoyoma Motoko versus Su Kaolla…FIGHT!”
As Motoko drew her sword and Mecha-Tama 19 rumbled its way through its activation protocols, no one noticed the three wavy lines that briefly glowed on Su’s forehead, luring a certain aquatranssexual to them.
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(Posted Tue, 17 Jul 2007 17:08)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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