Jack’s was an anomaly: a high-quality, low-brow American steakhouse transplanted to the suburbs of Tokyo. It was just busy enough to make reservations advisable, without being crowded enough that reservations couldn’t be altered.
Nabiki had volunteered to walk Nodoka to the eatery even before the older woman had called ahead to add the Tendo family to her reservation in the absence of her daughter. Beef was expensive in Japan, and the eponymous Jack was an American who ensured that his restaurant had a fairly-garnered reputation as a real American experience. The middle Tendo sister had long coveted an opportunity to dine there, and had no intention of missing her chance.
Since Kasumi had deftly defused a building disagreement between Nodoka and their father by hustling them out of the door considerably earlier than was really necessary to meet the reservation, nabiki elected to show their guest the locality. Of course the Furinkan area lacked any generally notable sights, but Nodoka seemed to appreciate being shown her daughter’s school, the local park with Ranma’s favoured clearing for open-air kata, her daughter’s favourite ice-cream shop, and so on. She also seemed to appreciate the chance to talk to Nabiki alone. The middle Tendo sister noted, and permitted, her discrete interrogation, using the opportunity to fish for information herself.
Just as they came in sight of the restaurant, the conversation took a turn for the bizarre.
“Nabiki, do you believe in magic?”
She covered her surprise expertly, and answered honestly. “Well, I rather have to, what with your husband’s curse. I assumethat isn’t the only form of magic in existence, but I simply don’t know where to look for more information.” She paused momentarily, and added disingenuously, “I’m surprised you’re so calm about that curse, actually. Especially since you’ve only really got our word for it.”
“Oh, I managed to find a short monograph on Jusenkyo,” replied the older woman airily. “It’s rather dated, and it doesn’t have a comprehensive listing of the pools, but it was more than sufficient to inform me about where my family had gone.”
Nabiki couldn’t quite hide her surprise this time. Without conscious volition, she said, “I’d like to read that.”
“It’s in French,” returned Nodoka. “Although it does refer to works in mandarin. Is this the place?” she asked redundantly. Stopping under the awning, she breathed in appreciatively. “Hmm, smells like they’re as good as I was told…”
“Rrr. Smells ‘ike you cooked i’ in lamp oil.”
“Are you saying I can’t cook?” snapped Akane.
Ranma shifted an ear lazily. “Well, you can’ cook welll…”
“I don’t see you helping much!”
The other ear flicked. “Urr… Paws?” She repositioned her muzzle more comfortably on her forepaws, and added, “Prreferr rraw, an’way.”
“It’s not burnt!” insisted Akane, slamming the frying pan down emphatically.
Ffwumff!
Both threw themselves away from the pillar of flame erupting from the partially-prepared meal, and both turned back at a safe distance. Dinner subsided to a sullen crackle.
Akane directed a meaningful glare at Ranma, and picked up the water can.
“Gno! Use dirt!”
“Dirt! Dirt? We’ve got to eat out of that pan, Ranma!”
Ranma gave a sardonic glance at the carbon-coated implement. “Waterr spreads oil firre,” she insisted.
Akane opened her mouth to argue, remembered a recent incident in Home Ec – one stove, part of the ceiling, most of two worktop units, and the whole school standing out in the playing fields until the fire service declared the building safe – and set the water down again. Grimly, she began scooping up handfuls of dirt and tossing them onto the fire.
Ranma paced back and forth for a bit, and then slipped off between the trees. The last thing Akane heard from her was, “Rrrabbit…”
Nabiki sat across from Nodoka and enjoyed the flow of conversation.- although she was occasionally reminded of way mountain rivers dealt with the more precipitous parts of their beds. She had quite lost track of time. Nodoka was expounding on blood-drinking mythical creatures, and explaining that the most famous ‘real’ vampires of western history – Vlad Dracul and Countess Bathory – were in fact no more than normal human psychopaths, when a throat was cleared at the Tendo girl’s shoulder.
Distracted from the discourse, both women turned, to find the hostess standing with Kasumi.
“I’m sorry I’m late…”
“Oh! It’s not a problem, Kasumi. Nabiki took me for a little walk around the area. Sit down, sit down,” urged Nodoka, waving at a free chair. “Don’t mind me – I get carried away on my pet subjects.”
Silently, the hostess pulled out the chair for Kasumi, and helped her seat herself. As soon as she was comfortable, Kasumi turned to her and said, “Could you bring us the menu, please? I’m afraid the last member of our party had to cancel.”
“Of course,” she replied. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Oh, um,” Kasumi glanced at the table. The sight of her sister’s glass seemed to jog her memory, and she asked for, “A cherry coke, please.”
“Certainly. Would either of you like anything?”
Nodoka shook her head as Nabiki said, “I’m fine, thank you.” With a professional smile, the hostess turned away, flagging a waitress.
“Where’s Daddy?”
“Father started being foolish again almost as soon as you left,” replied Kasumi, after discretely checking that the hostess was out of earshot. “In the end, I simply left him behind.”
Nabiki blinked. That statement surprised her more than almost anything Nodoka had told her; it was extremely out of character for her eldest sister.
“I must say he is taking Dearest’s assertion that we had a son much more seriously than I expected. Does Ranma look like a boy?”
Nabiki snorted inelegantly. “Hardly. She dresses in boy’s clothes, but only because that’s all Uncle Genma will pay for. Even so, there’s no missing that she’s female.”
“She is rather a tomboy,” admitted Kasumi cautiously, “but I suppose that isn’t surprising, in the circumstances.”
Nodoka laughed. “Oh, that’s not something I’m worried about. I’d be surprised if she wasn’t, actually.” A shadow of a darker emotion crossed her face. “As long as she’s happy and safe, that’s all I’m concerned with. There are some things I’d like to teach her, but…” She shrugged.
“I’m sure she would love to learn from you, Aunty,” assured Kasumi.
Nabiki nodded agreement. “She’d be happy just to meet you. Learning from you would just be icing on the cake.”
At that moment, the waitress arrived at Kasumi’s shoulder. With a quick smile, she placed a full glass of cola on the table and gave each woman a laminated card with the menu printed on it. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your order,” she said, before heading to a nearby table.
“Oh, my,” breathed Kasumi after her first inspection of the selection. “I really don’t know what to choose…”
“I know exactly what I want,” returned Nabiki, “but I’m pretty sure I can’t manage everything on the menu in one sitting.” She looked up with a grin. “I’ll have to come back sometime.”
“I think I’ll have a sirloin steak,” said Nodoka judiciously. “However, I do have one question.”
“Hmm?”
“Do either of you know how big an ounce is? I don’t know whether to have the sixteen-ounce or the twenty-four.”
“I… haven’t got a clue,” replied Nabiki slowly. Quickly, she came to a decision. “Have the bigger one. Make sure you’ve got enough to satisfy.”
“Hmm-m. Good idea.”
“Isn’t that rather wasteful?”
“It’s a treat, Kasumi,” returned Nabiki. “It’s alright once in a while. And it’s less of a waste than all the work you put into feeding ‘Uncle’ Genma and him barely tasting it.”
“Genma not eating?” inserted the older woman abruptly. “That’s most unlike my husband…”
“Oh, no,” assured Kasumi, “he has a very… healthy appetite… but…”
“He tends to swallow without chewing,” supplied Nabiki when her sister hesitated. Kasumi frowned faintly; Nabiki thought it was at the impolite description of a Tendo family guest, and ignored it. “In fact, he generally bolts his food like a dog or something.”
“Oh, really?” Nodoka’s eyes twinkled with secret humour for a moment. “Well, that sounds perfectly normal for a Saotome. His father was much the same. Hopefully my little girl is still young enough to learn to eat like a civilised person.”
“Oh, Ranma-chan has much better manners than her father,” said Kasumi. “Not just at the table, either.”
“That’s a bit of a surprise, really,” suggested Nabiki, carefully directing all her apparent attention to her menu. She picked up her glass, and continued, “He didn’t promise to raise her as a ‘Living Embodiment of Traditional Values’ or something before he took her away, did he?”
“No,” replied Nodoka, “a ‘Man among Men’, actually.”
Nabiki demonstrated a classic spit-take.
Nodoka nodded. “And if he failed, he and Ranma would both commit seppuku.”
“Oh, my.”
“Then he slept in the back yard for a week until I could think up a reasonable punishment for such a stupid proposal. In the end, I told his grandmother – lovely old woman, but positively rabid if anyone threatened any of her descendants.” She smiled seraphically. “He spent months hiding anywhere he could think of whenever the doorbell rang, just in case she had come round to talk to him. He might still hide if he thinks she’s arrived for a visit.”
“Oh, my.” Kasumi thought for a moment. “That might be fun…”
“Yeah…” breathed Nabiki, envisioning the portly Genma ramming himself into the broom cupboard. “Umm… so why did he take Ranma on the training trip?” she asked. “He didn’t kidnap her, did he?”
“No.” Nodoka’s good cheer evaporated, and she scowled at her place setting. “No, that was… a family issue,” she said, her tone dissuading further questions.
A silence fell until the waitress returned. “Are you ready to order?” she asked.
The three women all nodded, and Nodoka indicated with a gesture that the sisters should order first. Nabiki said, “I’d like a T-bone, with fries and salad.”
The waitress nodded as she wrote. “How’d you like your steak?”
Nabiki paused. The waitress, guessing the reason since most Japanese patrons of the restaurant paused when she asked that question, went on, “Rare, medium, or well-done?”
“Oh, well-done,” said Nabiki with assurance.
“American well-done or Japanese?”
“What’s the difference?” asked Nabiki cautiously.
“Well, American well-done is cooked right through,” explained the waitress. “Japanese well-done is pretty much meat-based charcoal briquettes. I have to ask, some people seem to think that’s how you serve beef, and they complain when it isn’t crunchy.”
“Ah – right. American, then, please.”
“Sure thing.” Making a final notation, she turned to Kasumi.
“A small sirloin, with just a salad, please. ‘American’ well done.”
“Right, gotcha.” The waitress made her note, and looked at Nodoka.
“A large sirloin, small fries,” said the older woman.
“Great. How’d you like that?”
“Raw, please – Rare! Rare.”
The waitress – a young gaijin, no bigger than an average Japanese woman with her brown hair going prematurely salt-and-pepper along the hairline – gave her a quick second look and a faint toothy grin. “Surrre. Would any of you like another drink?”
“I’m fine. Girls?”
Kasumi shook her head.
Nabiki raised her glass. “Coke, please.”
The waitress nodded, taking the glass and the menus and briskly walking away towards the kitchen.
After a moment, Nabiki turned to her sister. “What’s Daddy doing for dinner?”
“He will prepare something for himself,” replied Kasumi evenly. “I told him about the pot noodles in the back of the cupboard.”
Nabiki nodded tensely. Those were there because Nabiki knew she lacked her sister’s skill in the kitchen, and wanted to be prepared for the rare occasions when Kasumi wasn’t home to make food for her.
However, there was only one reason their younger sister wasn’t the worst cook in the household…
Soun rummaged in the cupboards, and eventually emerged with a plastic container the size and shape of a large paper cup. He read the legend blazoned on the side with interest.
“‘Pot noodles.’ How clever.” He turned to the stove. “To think they can sell them already in the pot… Ah, on such developments Japan’s greatness is built!” It was the work of a moment to turn on one of the electric rings and place the convenience food on the stove. “I wonder how long they take to cook – I suppose I can tell by the smell…”
Read the comments on this episode
(Posted Sun, 26 Aug 2007 00:49)
Questions? Problems? Suggestions?
Send a mail to addventure@bast-enterprises.de
or use the contact form.
らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
All other series and their characters are © by their respective creators or owners. No claims of ownership of these characters are implied by the authors of this Addventure, or should be inferred.
The Anime Addventure is a non-profit site.