The first thing Ranma Saotome heard was his dad Genma agreeing to put him in school. The second was a hardcover's bang on meeting Genma's face, a bang that brought the guards outside running into the office.
Old Man Konoe waved them out again, while Genma Saotome lay on the floor sweating and slightly bruised.
"Why?" said Ranma. In one hand he hefted another book from Konoe's shelf.
"Now, listen to me boy. You know that school would be good for you—"
His dad was already babbling, looking back and forth between Ranma across the room and Konoe behind the desk, but there was no comfort from either.
"Why?" said Ranma again. "You know damn well I'm training. I don't have time for school."
"Boy, you heard what Konoe said! He'll even help you! It's a gift you don't normally get!"
Ranma hadn't heard. The two men's debate had been so stodgy that he dozed off. They hadn't even been talking about him, just how quickly and bluntly to shove the Saotomes out of Mahora, and his dad wouldn't cave to Konoe's schooling demands even if the topic came up.
Ranma obviously figured Genma wrong. Then again, he had no excuse for thinking Genma was dependable after a decade on the road with the man. If Genma hadn't supported him for so long, he'd have kicked his dad to the curb years ago.
"What kind of gift," Ranma asked, "should I need to learn the martial arts you're teaching me yourself? And how do they make up for all the time I lose sitting in class for eight hours a day? You think I'll care about grades when I'm tired from training? Or that I'll concentrate on training when I have homework? What the hell is wrong with you? Don't tell me you didn't already think of these things."
"It's—" Genma grasped for some sort of excuse. Strange, Ranma thought, his dad usually found excuses more quickly than that. "It's... the law?"
Sure, Ranma was only fifteen, and should've been subject to compulsory education through his last year of middle school, but hearing his dad appeal to the law was like hearing his dad sing karaoke.
Genma has no answer to the disgust on Ranma's face, and Old Man Konoe barged into the conversation before Ranma remembered the brick-shaped Ryuunosuke Akutagawa anthology in his hand and put it to rightful use.
"You mustn't underestimate what a formal education will do for you in the future—"
Even though Konoemon Konoe was the old and accomplished headmaster of Mahora's city of schools, he wasn't someone Ranma respected even on generous days. Maybe it was the age difference. Maybe it was how Konoe watched over him like a doddering grandfather. Maybe it was the large shriveled head.
"I don't need a regular education. Studying by myself is perfectly good enough."
"But you'll have a regular place to live," said Genma from the floor.
Ranma's disgust didn't change. "I'll decide when I care about living regularly, and I say the stability and convenience and whatever else you're selling is totally outweighed by the bullshit of the regular school day. I don't see why you're even arguing this, because I know you know it."
Genma fell silent, and he continued to look back at Konoe for help. Konoe wore a disappointed frown, and Genma winced as he did whenever a threat was directed at his face. "Boy, this was something decided years ago. I already promised Konoe I would put you into regular school."
Ranma pulled his arm back for a throw. "In case you forgot, you also promised to concentrate on training me. If you can't keep your own promises straight, don't pull me into them."
"I'm not trying to pull you into anything!" Genma's face changed from sweaty panic to quivering shame.
"Then why are you doing this?"
Genma looked down.
"I can't hear you," said Ranma, despite knowing Genma hadn't spoken.
"I agreed to this because you've gotten out of control!"
The only reply Ranma had was, "What?"
But the question wasn't from confusion, and surprise wasn't in it either. It was a low and dangerous demand for explanation.
At that demand, Genma began quivering more. "These past years, you've become so wild that it's gotten me to think you need more time with normal kids or else something bad will happen. When Konoe contacted me, I agreed because of that. I didn't bring you here by coincidence."
"So this was all arranged?" Ranma glanced over at Konoe for a second, but the old man stayed silent to let the Saotomes run their family melodrama.
"I don't know what's gotten into you," said Genma, "but you've changed so much from the playful boy you've always been. Now you're too serious, dead fixated on whatever's in front of you, always having massive shifts in mood, and you just disregard all the normal morality that I try to teach you."
"Normal morality, the kind you like to exploit in shopkeepers and dojo masters?"
"It's my responsibility to be your parent," said Genma, plainly evading that point. "I have to make decisions to make sure you grow up a good man. And this decision even meets Konoe's approval."
Ranma's mood had turned in the last minute from fire to ice, but both burned equally hard. "So what? You couldn't handle the pressure so you dump it on somebody else? That's like you."
"It's something I have power over you to do, boy! Don't forget that even you agreed to obey my decisions as your father, no matter what else you ignore!"
Ranma paused, amazed that Genma dared invoke Ranma's own integrity. But as daring as it was, his dad knew that it was effective. He had made that promise.
He forced himself calm, and the room fell silent.
"Then you agree to this?" said Konoe when the atmosphere settled. He looked pleased, but diplomatically cleared the pleasure from his wrinkled face when Ranma looked at him.
Ranma didn't nod, but silence was enough.
"Then it is done, isn't it? I will have all the particulars taken care of for your stay. And Genma, set your mind at ease, I will arrange things as we discussed."
"And when," asked Ranma, "are you going to share this arrangement with me?"
"It's nothing large, just that Genma will be elsewhere, and he will see you, as we discussed, in a year's time."
Ranma whirled toward Genma, who was finally getting up from the floor. "You're leaving too? Where the hell are you going?"
"It's rather simple," said Konoe. "With you in school, your father wouldn't be the best influence on your academics, or your social integration among kids your own age. I'm sure you agree, as he did."
Ranma had heard this argument before. Years ago, Konoe had said the same thing. The old man didn't think much of Genma's child-raising habits.
"What about the training," Ranma said to Genma. "How am I supposed to learn from you?"
"I am still offering my facilities and resources," said Konoe, but Ranma ignored him this time.
Genma didn't answer. He seemed to defer to Konoe now, and Ranma scowled at the obvious control Konoe held.
Ranma stalked across the room with the book in hand, toward Konoe as the old man sat behind his desk. "And who are you to keep a kid from his parent? Last I heard, school principals don't have that power, and you don't do it just because you disagree with how a dad brings up his own kid. Do you have proof of abuse or something?"
Before Konoe could answer, Genma decided now was the right time to act tough. "Boy, you've already agreed to school, so stop whining about it! Leaving you here is my choice as much as his."
Ranma hurled Akutagawa at Genma, but the book rebounded off Konoe's picture window when Genma ducked. "And the ass-kicking I'll give you didn't factor into that choice? You said you'd train me! Now you're passing me off!"
"Even if I'm passing you off, putting you into school is a parental decision!"
Ranma had to bite back his curses. He couldn't throw away his own integrity, no matter how much a hypocrite Genma was.
The guards outside looked back in at another sound of something being thrown, and when Ranma didn't stop Genma's exit, they lead Genma out the same way they brought him in earlier.
Genma was too nervous to look Ranma in the eye again. "You better have the boy's attitude changed by the time I get him back," he said to Konoe as he left.
"Your father," said Konoe after the door shut and the office was quiet, "was bothered by how your personality has developed—"
"You think I'm stupid? You think I don't see he was bothered?"
"—from living with him for so long. He hoped you'd calm down a little with normal social contact."
Ranma unclenched muscles in his hand he hadn't noticed were tightened. "Don't give that lazy blowhard credit for my personality. He didn't teach social skills, good or bad."
"Well, let's not talk about someone behind his back. It's beside the point. You've already agreed to schooling now, yes?"
Ranma's glare shined with bitterness. "Yeah, I'm going to attend school. And you have nothing to do with it, so stop asking over and over like you understand what the first damn difference it makes if I agree or not."
Konoe raised his hands in apology. "As long as you understand, that's quite enough for me. I must say, Genma's right, you really have become more emotional since I last saw you, and you were no rock of steadiness then. Being left behind by your father this way must be agitating, but really we do have good reasons. Calm your mind, and you'll see that I'm doing the right thing for you."
Ranma weighed that option with the calming possibility of breaking a few nearby objects, but the stuff in Konoe's office wasn't very valuable anyway. He marched out without a word, and the one guard still standing outside didn't move to stop him.
Outside in the hallway the windows were opened a crack, and the evening winds of late March sent chills across his back. Ranma wasn't bothered, because the heat inside his stomach from all the bile kept him toasty. The target of that bile was probably already off the island by now. His dad always knew how to flee.
All of the training Genma promised just vanished, and he was stuck in this place, without the slightest clue what to do. Go to school? He could think of a hundred reasons against it. School was unnecessary. Uninformative. Unfruitful. Ninety-seven other un- words.
But even if school was unnecessary, uninformative, and unfruitful, he had no reason to refuse it besides his own distaste. What was that compared to his integrity? He only had a year to wait, and then he'd be out of middle school, with no more compulsory education. Old Man Konoe wouldn't have any more power over him, and he'd beat sense into his dad. A whole year, but he could tough this out.
Ranma stared in disgust at the plaster-and-wood walls of the school hallway, covered in conforming windows that opened to a dark outside. Then he marched back to Konoe's office.
"Who cares if you're doing the right thing?" he replied to Konoe's previous statement as if there had been no break in conversation. "I got a million reasons why I don't want school besides learning martial arts from Pops, but since you don't give a shit about my opinion anyway, what good is it to explain them? I already said I'll follow through."
Konoe wasn't as good at picking up the conversation, or maybe he was just addled by Ranma's swearing, but he rallied. "For now, I only want to examine you to find your appropriate grade level."
"I have school records."
"Yes, but those are sparse, to say the least. You simply haven't had a continuous education, or even a frequent one, so examinations would be easiest. You'll do your best, won't you?"
Ranma crossed his arms. "If I'm stooping down to this, I'll skip as much school as I can instead of being bored at lower grade levels. Do your worst."
"Well then, since school will start next week, I need to have you tested for the appropriate grade level immediately. I've already arranged it, so if you would accompany Takahata here—"
Ranma turned to see Takamichi Takahata, the tall and unshaven teacher Ranma met earlier that day, already in the room. He thought the man was room decoration, but apparently not.
He had another problem. "Hold on. You're tossing me into this just like that? Last I heard, people who take entrance exams get to study for them. For weeks, even. I don't think a day or two is out of the question here."
Konoe spread his hands, as if helpless, then began stroking his beard. "I'm afraid I can't give you days. With everything that needs to be done to put you into a school and get you oriented, if you delay it, it'll complicate your entry into the school environment. You are a special case, after all. Letting you start school even slightly tardy would be a great disadvantage."
Ranma could feel frustration appearing on his face, even though he hated giving Konoe the satisfaction. "Hey, I'm not the one in a hurry here. I'm not scared of being a little different, but you're the one who made this deal with Pops without letting me know about it, and if my scores are worse because I don't get ready, even though all other kids do, that's just as big a disadvantage."
Konoe considered that complaint, and blinked because it was reasonable. "True, but what solution do you propose then?"
Despite how unfair having to think of an answer himself was, Ranma considered for a second.
"Fine, if a few days is too much for you, then just give me an hour. Toss me in the library and go eat something, and I'll take your test when you get back."
"What do you think you can do in an hour?"
"What do you care? Just give me the books."
Konoe gave Ranma the hour, Ranma took the test, and he found it the biggest waste of a Saturday evening that didn't involve a shovel. When Konoe finished grading the clock had already chimed past ten and Ranma was busy eating takeout.
He was pretty sure principals don't grade papers personally, but maybe the old man just liked work.
Konoe called to Ranma from his desk as Ranma chatted with Takamichi, who was also eating dinner because the teacher had spent his usual meal time getting Ranma study materials, and also proctoring the test. Ranma looked up.
"Care to tell me," said Konoe as he held up Ranma's exam sheet, "that of these subjects of mathematics, languages, social studies, physical sciences—"
"I know what subjects I just got tested on. Get to the point."
"—how did you get fifties in mathematics and science, forty in Japanese, forty in English, thirty in cultural studies, thirty in history—"
"Be a help if I knew what those numbers mean."
"Out of fifty total for mathematics and science, forty in Japanese, forty in English, thirty in social studies...."
Konoe trailed off.
"So I got good scores," said Ranma around a piece of teriyaki chicken.
"You have perfect scores. On each part of the test. You qualify over the limits of the test, at least high school level." Konoe narrowed his eyes. "How did you get perfect scores?"
"Cheating."
In the silence that followed, Takamichi frowned at Ranma, and Ranma felt compelled to qualify his statement. "Well, not all of it, just the parts I'm not good at. Never cared much for history or cultural studies."
Konoe dropped the papers on his desk and began to rub his brow. "How can you cheat," he said in the voice of a man halfway into his grave, "when you said you'll do your best?"
"What? I did do my best. Perfect scores after an hour of study sounds as best as you can get."
"You didn't catch him in this?" Konoe said to Takamichi.
"Not really," said the teacher who had stopped eating because he expected the question. Ranma found the man competent. "I didn't see him cheat at all, and I was certainly watching. He just muttered to himself a bit. Nothing written on his arm, or a cheat sheet, or anything like that."
Konoe looked back to Ranma. "How did you cheat?"
"Military secret," said Ranma with a straight face.
Konoe rubbed his brow harder. "He probably did something while studying, then."
Takamichi shook his head. "His studying was only asking for the books, and asking having me remind him of the time so he'd remember to pace his subjects right. He wrote on a lot of paper which he threw away—"
"What was on them?"
"Well, I didn't look at them. He yelled at me to not get in the way whenever I got close."
Ranma grunted as he finished his own meal. He didn't like distractions. That was one of his dad's complaints against him, the part about fixating.
"But I glanced at them after he threw them in the trash. Mostly just regular notes. Pictures and diagrams. Really the worst handwriting I've ever seen."
"I can believe that," said Konoe as he glanced at the written portions of Ranma's exam. The old man sighed. "Well, if the boy can cheat and even you can't catch it, obviously any test he takes can be tainted beyond useless, so...."
"You don't seem so impressed," said Ranma. "I figured you'd be more bothered."
"Well, it works better for me, you see. Since we can't get a reliable score for you, in order to ensure you get the right amount of education, I've decided to put you in middle school second year."
How long ago? Ranma couldn't remember easily. Genma told him he was fifteen years old, but without celebrating birthdays and New Years, that figure and the concept of years itself lacked meaning. Seasons passed, but with only that clue his unaided memory had just a weak grasp that he met Old Man Konoe three summers ago.
Three lifetimes ago. Of course he changed. Who wouldn't change in three lifetimes? When he saw Konoe two days ago after so long, he barely remembered the man—
Ranma shoved the past into some dark corner of his mind. The present was most important.
He should've been learning martial arts from his dad. His dad was gone. After stewing over it for an hour after Konoe let him go for the night, Ranma decided to let it go. Revenge wasn't enjoyable enough to contemplate, so Ranma focused on the present. School.
The day before, Konoe had offered to buy Ranma a school uniform.
Ranma scanned his choices of suits, and said, "I'll take the most expensive one."
He didn't choose that uniform to annoy Konoe, however much the old man believed so at the time. This uniform was fine. It matched Ranma's sense of fashion.
Konoe had given Ranma some living space.
Ranma looked at the room, turned around, and said, "The last apartment I had was in a seafront highrise—"
That was all he got out before Konoe decided he was joking and walked away. Okay, he was lying, his last place wasn't very high-risen and definitely wasn't in front of a sea, but a basement in the tenement district?
Konoe had wanted Ranma to cut his hair down to something normal.
To that demand, Ranma said—nothing. Ranma went to a barbershop and came back the same haircut as every boy walking down the street.
That confused Konoe. The old man was troubled that Ranma could so easily surrender a defining piece of himself. It was beneath him.
True, but Ranma was going to school a grade below his age. It was beneath him, yet he could pretend to accept that.
Ranma was dressing in a uniform, living in a pit, and cutting his hair to blend in. They were beneath Ranma, yet he could pretend to accept that.
Ranma was standing on a cliff-top, peering deep into Crap Canyon. Yet even as discontent burned inside Ranma, he could pretend to accept that.
But not long.
Until then, Ranma wanted to pretend. He wanted to be a person who could.
"Pretending's hard," Ranma said to no one as he limped down the street toward his new school. That teacher Takamichi had a mean tackle, one that not only stopped Ranma from throwing Konoe desk out the window, but still hurt two days later.
Suck it in. He had worse before. He'll have worse again.
Takamichi apologized for clobbering him, but as Konoe said, no one should react to being dropped a grade by throwing a heavy and expensive desk through a large and expensive window. Ranma shrugged at Takamichi's apology and walked it off. He was still walking it off two days later.
Around Ranma, kids were walking down the street in the same direction. They were his age, walking in groups or zipping by on bicycles with bells ringing. They were dressed in boys' jackets and girls' skirts, and lugging school satchels. They were talking about the end of spring break, the start of a new year of classes, where to meet after school, and what was on TV last night.
They would be his classmates, he realized, and he could feel a barrier of irrelevance pushing him away.
No. Ranma stopped. He was setting himself above and apart from everyone else, and that was trouble. Ranma didn't want trouble today.
When Ranma limped to the school's front gate, the sight of paint scraped around a missing school plaque left him unimpressed. Looking at the rusted gate would've killed anybody's motivation, but luckily he wasn't here to perform well.
What was he here for?
Ranma pulled a note from his own satchel. "Attend opening ceremony," it said under Mahora's fancy letterhead. "Find homeroom. Make friends."
He threw the note away without reading more. Konoe's advice was as useless on paper as it was in person.
Attend the opening ceremony, huh? Schools had daily speeches by the school principal, or so Konoe reminded him, but Ranma couldn't remember the last time he stood for one. It must have been too long ago, or he never paid attention. Well even if he didn't today either, Konoe told him the school took attendance so he had to go.
First he had to find it.
Ranma looked around the school courtyard. It was a little too dusty for a place people walked regularly, and whoever splotched gray everywhere instead of properly painting the walls should've been fined. Wow, this was depressing already.
Wait, he should be looking for where to go. Ranma frowned. Even though the opening ceremony was first agenda for every student, everyone was standing around chatting or heading into different buildings instead of moving in one direction he could identify, and there were no posted signs telling him where to go.
Well, he wasn't going to wander around looking, not with this pain and not if he wanted to get there promptly. He was already almost late because walking to school took over an hour instead of under fifteen minutes, and he couldn't even jog across the yard to get to the ceremony on time, never mind run through a morning crowd.
Konoe said that the staff here was strict about rules, and if he was late, the staff would get angry. Okay then, since he accepted this pain as an obstacle to overcome, he'd have to go do some overcoming.
"Hey," he said to a kid passing by. "Help me out. Where do I go for opening ceremony? Auditorium? Gym field?"
Instead of answering, the boy stared at his clothes and said in disbelief, "Where the hell did you get that uniform?"
Ranma looked down on his chest, but didn't see the clown costume this boy seemed to see. "From a box. Who cares? Answer the question."
The boys sneered at him. "If you wanna know, why don't you go ask your butler?"
Ranma had puzzle over that for a second, but he couldn't think of any witty response because he didn't know what that even meant. "Ask my what?"
"You got enough cash to buy clothes like that, so you ought to have money left over. Hire somebody to find out for you, and don't bother me."
Ranma stared at the boy, whose own uniform was so badly wrinkled that Ranma wondered if he had confused a dry cleaner with a trash compactor.
This was a bad start to the "social integration" stuff Konoe was talking about. "Look," Ranma said, at least trying to meet Konoe's demands before putting his own demands first, "I don't know what your problem with my clothes is, but would it kill you to just point me in a direction?"
"Fine," the boy said with a grin, and pointed to a building. "It's in there."
Ranma glanced in that direction, then back. "That's a shed."
"Better hurry. Don't wanna miss the speech, right?"
The boy turned and began to walk off.
Konoe wanted Ranma to be socially accepted by the students of this school through being nice. Konoe also wanted Ranma to be socially accepted by the staff of this school through doing what they wanted, and they wanted him on time. In a blink, Ranma weighed being accepted as a peer with being accepted as a student.
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(Posted Sat, 01 Nov 2008 00:43)
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