Along with his many memories, Ranma also gained an intimate knowledge of how the Moon Kingdom’s government had worked. Among the many rules and regulations that didn’t matter all that much in this day and age, he remembered something that was quite important: in the event that the Queen was indisposed (for a moment, he felt pain as he remembered that his mother was dead, before forcefully reminding himself, that that was another life time; he, Ranma, had a mother… he made a mental note to visit her some time soon), and the heir apparent was not of age, the closest relative of approved age would rule in her place until she was of age.
And, if those recordings of the current Sailor Senshi he remembered seeing on the networks over the last couple years were anything to go by, he was pretty sure his reincarnated sister was most definitely not of age. This, of course, made him the de facto leader of the Sailor Senshi.
He internally smirked; this was going to be sooo much fun. But right now he had another problem to deal with.
“Report, Pluto.”
Ranma started growing annoyed when, instead of answering, the Senshi’s jaw dropped.
“Report, soldier, or have you lost what little fluff you had in that head of yours when you got reincarnated?”
“Y-you remember?”
“Yeah, when you started doing your little dance routine! And about that! Damn it, woman, you’re a soldier, not a stripper! Why the hell do you still have that little number in your transformation?”
There was a moment of silence, as Pluto gaped like fish out of water, before Ranma got impatient. “Well, soldier? I’m waiting for that report!”
Pluto looked conflicted for a moment, then started filling him in on the details from their reawakening to present. To say that he was not happy was a gross understatement.
“THEY’VE BEEN KILLED HOW MANY TIMES?!?!?” Ranma took a calming breath and, noticing Pluto opening her mouth to answer, said, “No. That was rhetorical. Do not answer that.” He sighed before continuing, “Okay… so let me get this straight: imouto-chan is now Sailor Moon, Beryl’s dead, you fought several more big bads after her—including some from the fucking future?!?—I have a niece from same said future that keeps on popping in from time to time, and now you’re in such deep shit that you need SATURN, the Senshi that could crack open planets like so many walnuts—Hell, she was designed to do that!—to fix it?!? For the love of all that is good and holy, what the FUCK has happened while I was gone?!?”
Ranma took several more calming breaths, drew upon every ounce of his martial arts knowledge (quite considerable, considering), and finally acquired his center. “Okay, what is going to happen to Saturn after this? And if you say she’s going back into storage, I will revoke your position before you can even fucking blink!”
Pluto—normally cool, composed, and collected Pluto—gulped, because she knew he could follow up on his threat, too. “Um… well… that is… if she survives, she’ll have been regressed to an infant, from which we—Uranus, Neptune, and I—will raise her as our daughter.”
“I see. At least you’ll do SOMETHING right. Kami only knows she deserves to live a bit if what you’ve told me can be counted on.”
There was a moment of silence as Ranma took in the new information, and in the process left Pluto to sweat it out. He didn’t realize it, of course. Nope, not him.
“Um…what are you going to do now, sir?” asked a nervous Pluto.
“Well, I’ve got to fix the big pile of shit my father’s gotten me into here. Might take a while, that, but it’s a very delicate situation, so I can’t rush it.”
Then Ranma smirked, and Pluto looked like she was about to piss herself. “But afterwards… afterwards… heh heh heh… I’m going to start in on you Senshi. Yes, you were all horrible before, but I personally blame mother’s reliance on the Ginzuisho for that.
“Now though, if what I hear of the Senshi is correct… you all need to be whipped into shape. You are the protectors of the Princess, yet you’ve all DIED, and left her to fight the big bad… SEVERAL TIMES!!! Oh… I am going to put you all through the training regiment from hell, and if it turns out you’re not worth it… well… I can name SEVERAL people off the top of my head that can handle the job. And I’ll have no trouble replacing you pissants.”
“W-what… how about your sister? And Endymion?”
Ranma paused and thought about his answer, before replying in a voice of pure steel, “Well, not my sister, since she’s the only one that can wield the Ginzuisho. But Endymion? Yes, if need be. After all, they’re in on this, too. If they can’t handle the consequences, then they shouldn’t have tried at being superheroes, ne?”
Pluto dropped her head into her hands, and Ranma heard a mumble that sounded suspiciously like “My God, what have I done…?” Ranma only grinned at that.
He let her compose herself in peace for a little while before asking, “Is that all you have to report, soldier?”
Pluto bowed her head. “Yes, sir.”
Ranma nodded in acknowledgement. “Good. You are dismissed.”
Pluto got up to leave, but before she could teleport back to the Gates, Ranma said, “Oh, and Pluto?”
She froze. “Yes, sir?”
“As of this moment, the news of my return is under an Omega level lock; no one finds out until either I tell them, or something arises in which the information is absolutely needed. Do I make myself clear?”
“May… I ask why, sir?”
“…Nerima is famous for its martial artists for a good reason, Pluto. If any of those girls show up, magically shielded seifuku or not, they will be torn to shreds; the girls after me will view them as a threat, and it’s no exaggeration when I say they’re all in the top five percent of the best martial artists on earth. Until I can take care of them, the girls must stay away from me. Is that clear?”
Pluto nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now go. It’s a miracle we haven’t been disturbed already.”
After Pluto had left (muttering something about aspirin and vodka), Ranma started thinking about his situation. Questions ran through his head: Would he have to retrain his body again? Did he lose any of those powers he had gained, so long ago?
“Well, only one way to find out,” he muttered to himself, before trying to call upon the simplest of those powers: his subspace pocket. It took him a while to fall into that right state of mind, but when he did, everything immediately became familiar to him, as if he had not used his power for a year, not 10,000-plus years. He quickly found his subspace pocket, opened it. He smiled as a hole appeared in the air before him. Looked like he could still do it.
Satisfied, he mentally reached in, checking for the three things he had left in there: his armor, his sword, and Discordia. He grinned on seeing that everything was as he had left it.
Satisfied, he closed the hole, and proceeded to try and make a fireball.
…Only to fail miserably at it. His subsequent attempts to create lightning and mana balls also failed. Ranma sighed; looks like he was going to regaining his skills, too, along with dealing with his problems.
While Ranma was musing on the training he was going to have to do, several people all over the galaxy suddenly looked up from what they were doing, feeling a connection that had formed so long ago suddenly flare up.
In a small city in the American Midwest, just south of the Arklay Mountains, a woman who now called herself Jill Valentine, but used to be called Yuna, looked up from boarding a helicopter bound for a decrepit mansion on the city’s outskirts…
Nearby, the secret agent formally known as Yuffie, but now went by the name Ada Wong, looked up before turning back the sight of her long-time friend went off on a mission that would soon escalate to an international incident…
In a sky rise in downtown Tokyo, one of the secretaries for certain game company, one who simply went by the name of Lu, looked up from her computer screen and smiled. On her desk were the framed pictures of several familiar-looking young women…
In a hidden castle in Scotland, a seemingly elderly woman looked up from grading term papers, a smile the likes of which would have had most of her students scared shitless and convinced the end of the world was coming soon. She currently went by the very Scottish name of McGonagall, though she remembered fondly a time she used to be called Celes…
On a ship just out on the edge of the Solar System, the one formerly known as Terra, her trademark green hair a much darker shade now and going by the name Kiyone, looked up from her console and allowed herself a small grin, before turning back to work again, cursing her air-headed partner for the hundredth time…
Hundred of light-years from Earth, on the capital planet of the Juraian Empire, Aerith, head caretaker of the Royal Trees, smiled and looked up from where she was working on Tsunami, the First Tree of Jurai…
And in a mythical place that some called “Zero Star”, rumored to be the place form which all life was born, a being widely thought of as the originator of all darkness and evil smiled (as best as a currently formless being could) from her dwelling place within the Galaxy Cauldron. At last, her 10,000 year charade could end, for her chosen avatar had returned to Midgard…
…Hmm… she never did tell him about his little “promotion”, did she…?
Ranma shivered from his place on his futon as he tried to figure out a solution to his mess. Why did it suddenly feel like a herd of elephants had just stampeded over his grave…?
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(Posted Tue, 05 Feb 2008 23:39)
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