[Episode 227682] [Episode 227682]It was a cold February afternoon at the docks of Hudson City's Bayside, and a busy one — the work of unloading freighters from all over the world continuing in spite of the steady snowfall.
For one freighter from Japan the unloading was finished, most of the crew had been given leave to blow their saved-up paychecks in onshore establishments, and the skeleton crew still onboard were staying inside, out of the weather. As a result, no one was around to notice as one of the lines connecting the ship to the dock suddenly jerked, as if something was sliding down it.
Nor was anyone in position to see when a panda carrying a petite, redheaded girl and several large backpacks faded into view in the alley between the two warehouses closest to the freighter.
{Okay, Pop, we’re here. So, just how d’ya expect ta find one woman in an entire city, and where do we stay while yer doin’ it? It’s cold, and I wanna get changed back, now!} the girl said sullenly, wrapping her arms around herself and shivering from the cold.
The panda held up a sign: #This is America, boy,# *flip* #speak English!#
“Okay, sure, whatever you say,” Ranma grumbled. “So how about answering my questions?”
#How many Stacy Hunters# *flip* #can be in the phone book?# *flip* #And Hudson City has one of the# *flip* #largest city parks in the world.#
“Right, so we get off the freighter and we’re still sleeping cold, wonderful. At least we can get some water heated,” Ranma said with a sigh. “So, where is this park?”
The panda simply reached out to pick the girl up, and the two faded out of sight again.
In a clearing that could have been in deep forest rather than the middle of a city, Ranma sighed with relief as the water she’d heated over the portable campfire stove transformed the redheaded pigtailed girl into a black-haired pigtailed boy, then tossed the rest of the hot water on the panda, turning it into a stout, balding middle-aged man.
“Well, here we are, Pop, what next?” Ranma asked as he adjusted his clothing, and Genma shrugged.
“We stay here tonight, then start looking tomorrow,” he said nonchalantly.
Ranma open his mouth to complain about spending another night in the cold and wet, then paused and closed his mouth without saying anything, simply looking at his father. When did Pop start lookin’ old? he thought. This winter travelin’ is gettin’ hard on him. And leavin’ Mr. Tendo behind hasn’t been easy on him, either. If only ... if only I had been able ta kiss Kuno, that idiot would have made a different wish ...
Yet again, Ranma thought back to the moment where everything had gone wrong — at the end of Ranma’s date with Kuno, trying to convince the delusional kendoist to wish the Jusenkyo curse away, Kuno bending down for an end-of-date kiss from his redheaded goddess, and Ranma just couldn’t do it, couldn’t take that last step. So, Kuno took it for her, and wished that his fiery pigtailed girl would be free of the foul sorcerer’s malign influence and take as much delight in his presence as he did in hers. And just like that, Ranma did, finding herself overwhelmed by an incoherent mix of love and lust for the tall, handsome, brave, intelligent, honorable ...
Fortunately, Genma and Akane had been quick on the uptake, Akane knocking Kuno into next week and Genma sucker-punching his temporary daughter and immediately dunking her under the Hot-Water Falls. That had woken Ranma back up, back to his normal male self and instantly violently ill at the memory of how she’d felt, shaking with fear that the feelings would be back with a splash of cold water.
That fear, at least, had proven false, as a passing car hitting a puddle in the street on the way home had proven — or so Ranma had thought, until the next school day when the petite redhead (courtesy of the usual old woman) had walked through the school gates, seen Kuno waiting with his usual bokken, and found herself running to embrace him with all the love and passion the wish had invoked. That time, it had been Nabiki with a thermos of hot tea that had saved the day, and the middle Tendo had been so shocked by what had happened that she didn’t even charge for it.
The third time, Ranma knew what would be coming a split-second before it hit, knew it was artificial, imposed, fought it with all the willpower she had — and managed to stay standing frozen in place, beating back the almost overpowering urge to protect Kuno from Akane as her fiancée had beaten the kendoist unconscious, then allowed Akane to pull her into the school and some hot water. Likewise the fourth time, and the fifth time, and the sixth.
And even worse than the feeling of helplessness, of being the one needing to be defended instead of defending, had been the dreams, of Ranma-chan and her beloved Tatewaki, and what the two so longed to do....
By now, Ranma was no longer the confident (not to say arrogant), cheerful boy always on the look-out for the next challenge that Nerima had come to know over the last half-year; in his place was a skittish, quiet, nervous wreck seriously considering suicide, something not lost on the worried Tendos and his father. Then, Genma had caught a flash of a news clip on the family room TV in passing, a rare piece of footage of the most famous vigilante working in Hudson City that most people were willing to consider a hero, DarkAngel — and the way she’d moved as she plowed through a small mob had been very familiar.
So now, weeks later, here the two Saotomes were, in Hudson City. As the trip had gone on, Ranma had become more and more like his old self, even if she’d spent most of the time hiding in the freighter as a girl —getting far, far away from Tatewaki Kuno had done wonders for her mood.
And you aren’t missing Akane at all, and wishing you were back at the Dojo, nope, not a bit — you just keep telling yourself that. ‘Ranma Saotome never loses’, yeah right.
With a sigh, Ranma nodded. “Sure, Pop, it’ll be good to see Hunter-san again after all these years.”
“ ‘Miss Hunter’, Ranma, not ‘Hunter-san’.”
“Right, Miss Hunter.”
An hour later, dusk falling, the two had finished a small meal, using up the last of their supplies, and set up a tent — not something they’d used much on their previous training journey, but now necessary thanks to Jusenkyo. They were just laying out their blankets, when suddenly they heard voices nearby, several men — and a clearly terrified woman. While Ranma couldn’t quite understand what they were saying, from the tone it was clear that some of the men were enjoying the woman’s fear, playing with her to heighten it, and Genma and Ranma exchanged glances and silently moved to the edge of the clearing where they’d set up camp.
Moving into the trees, they found only a narrow belt of trees separated them from another small clearing. In that clearing a gaijin couple dressed for a romantic evening on the town were kneeling, hands bound behind their backs, with five Japanese men standing in front of them. The male, a well-built black man, was tense but calm, while his blond companion was crying, shaking, barely able to stay upright, begging for her life, promising to do anything they wanted, anything at all.
One of the Japanese men glanced over at the one in the middle. “Hey, Isamu, what say we take her up on it, ship her to Japan with the others? She’s a bit old, but she’d still bring a good price — Mr. Davenport, here, has good taste.”
Isamu looked thoughtful, gazing down at the couple, but finally shook his head. “As old as she is, she probably wouldn’t last long enough to make it worth it. Besides, Iwahara-sama wants a photo. Let’s get this over with.”
Even as Ranma charged forward, Genma right behind him, Isamu’s hand rose, the pistol it held flashed in the dusk with a thunderclap, and the back of Mr. Davenport’s head exploded outward, scattering blood and brains over the snow behind him. Even as Isamu turned the gun towards the woman, Ranma was there, his first blow breaking the elbow of the arm supporting the gun, his second strike shattering a kneecap, his third breaking Isamu’s jaw as the murderer flew backwards, instantly unconscious. That done, Ranma turned to the wide-eyed woman. “Easy, you’re safe now, nobody’s going to hurt you,” he soothed as he moved behind her and began to untie her hands.
While Ranma had concentrated on the leader, Genma had gone for his four subordinates and had been much more methodical about it, a single blow for each dropping them in their tracks. The last had actually gotten a shot off, but it had gone wild, nowhere near either of the Saotomes, and he now had a broken hand for his pains.
As Ranm finished untying the woman and suddenly found himself on his butt with a lap full of crying, babbling female, Genma shook his head with a wry smile, then whirled when across the clearing a twig snapped. The middle-aged martial artist’s eyes widened as two more men stepped into the clearing. One was raising a camera, but the other had some sort of submachine gun, and he was pointing it at Ranma and the woman ... and even as the camera’s flash lit up the gathering dark and the chattering submachine gun threw out its deadly hail, Ranma with his lapful was knocked to the side by Genma’s frantic dive, only to stare in horror as Genma’s body was hammered to the ground and blood splashed over the man holding the camera as Genma’s last desperate vacuum blade flashed across the clearing to slice the gunman’s body in half through the midsection.
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(Posted Sat, 05 Dec 2009 06:42)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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