Ranma slowly came awake to the smell of frying bacon and the sound of someone moving around the kitchen next to the living room couch she was stretched out on. Where am I? Where’s Pop? the cute redhead thought as she sat up and glanced around, dislodging the blanket covering her. Then the memory of the previous evening’s events smashed into her.
Alerted by the strangled cry, Stacy Hunter stepped to the kitchen doorway. Seeing Ranma sitting up on the couch, hands curled into fists and tears leaking out from under clenched shut eyelids, the blond woman quickly stepped back into the kitchen long enough to take the frying bacon off the burner, then rushed back into the living room to sit beside her young guest. She put an arm around the smaller redhead and pulled her head down against her shoulder, and Ranma once again broke down.
After a few minutes Ranma pulled away and sat up, scrubbing at her cheeks angrily. “This is getting old!” she growled. “Some guy I’m turning out to be, all weepy-waily like some girl.”
Stacy bit back her initial reaction as her eyes flickered over the very female body sitting next to her. Gently shaking her head, she said, “Your father was very important to you, Ranma — you loved him very much, and from the way he acted those weeks I lived with the two of you I can say he felt the same, even if he never actually said it.”
Standing up, she offered a hand to Ranma. “Come on, I’ve fixed some breakfast for us. Let’s eat, and then we can talk over where we go from here.”
Stacy watched as Ranma, once again a black-haired boy, finished the last of the scrambled eggs and bacon. “Ranma, one question first,” she said. “When you talked to George — Sergeant Amado — last night, why did you give the impression that your male form was separate, someone else?”
Ranma’s eyes dropped and his hand rose to tug lightly on his pigtail. “I didn’t want him to know I turn into a girl,” he muttered. “I hate it.”
Stacy slowly nodded. “I can understand that,” she mused, “and I didn’t say anything at the time, but you may have created problems for yourself.”
“But that’s for later,” she added, sitting up. “First, last night after you went to bed I called an acquaintance by the name of Witchcraft, to see if she could do anything about your curses, both of them. She said she didn’t know, but would find out. She’s flying down to meet us this morning.”
Ranma’s eyes shot up to lock on the blonde woman. “Really? Do you think she’ll be able to help?” he asked eagerly.
Stacy shrugged. “Witchcraft didn’t know, and if she doesn’t I certainly won’t. We’ll just have to find out.” Glancing at the clock on the wall, she stood up. “Come on, get cleaned up and changed and we’ll go find out.”
“Get changed?” Ranma asked, confused, and Stacy chuckled.
“Yes, well, thanks to your unwillingness to admit you change into a girl last, night, as far as the police and anyone that saw you come in here are concerned that’s exactly what you are. Considering that your male form was identified by a witness as helping break up a yakuza assassination, let’s keep it that way.” When Ranma stiffened, outraged, she hastily added, “For the sake of bystanders if no one else.”
After a long moment, Ranma reluctantly nodded. “Yeah, those kind of thugs won’t care about civilians any more than Kuno or Ryoga did,” he agreed with a sigh. “All right, I’ll go girl.”
Stacy smiled gently. “Thanks, Ranma, I can see how much you hate it, I appreciate it. Now why don’t you grab a quick shower and we can get out of here.”
“Right, should have done that first,” Ranma said as he stood up, blushing slightly.
“Not a problem, this morning at least — I decided to let you sleep in while I cooked,” Stacy responded, and waved him toward the door. “Now, shoo.”
The teenage boy left for the bedroom he’d used the previous night. Stacy remained at the table, gazing worriedly at the wall, until she heard the apartment’s only shower start. With a sigh, she stood up and walked over to the kitchen wall, popped open the secret compartment she’d opened the previous evening and removed the cell phone stored there. Opening the cell phone, she pushed a button, closed it up, then dropped it in her purse and walked into the living room to sit on the couch.
A few minutes later, Ranma, in cute redhead mode, walked back into the living room wearing a clean — or at least cleaner — set of her usual black and red Chinese-style clothing. Stacy looked her over, frowning slightly, as she stood up. “I can see that after we meet Witchcraft we’ll have to go shopping.” When Ranma started to protest, she shook her head. “No, Ranma, for now at least you’ll be living with me, and I’m not having my guest look like a vagabond! You’ll just have to put up with some new clothing.” Ranma protested but Stacy was adamant, and the redhead finally acquiesced, grumpily. “Good,” Stacy said at that, “and after that we’ll grab some ice cream on the way home.” She chuckled, eyebrow going up, when Ranma instantly brightened. “Like that idea, do you? Well, come on, let’s get started.” Leading Ranma out of the apartment, she locked the door behind them and the two headed for the parking garage.
An hour later, Stacy and Ranma were sitting on grass-covered Hangman’s Hill, the redheaded teenager intently watching the people walking up the hill to look out over LeMastre Park, or jogging up and down the path created for that purpose. From where she leaned back against Gibbet Rock, the large stone placed where the executioner’s platform had once stood, the short-haired blonde cracked her eyes open to gaze at her companion. Finally, she whispered, “Relax, Ranma, Witchcraft will get here when she gets here.”
“I think that’s her now,” Ranma said, nodding to two women approaching up the side of the hill to their left, a redhead looking about the same age as Stacy and a somewhat older woman with shoulder-length black hair. The two were both carrying backpacks and a picnic basket swinging at the side of the redhead, and were dressed in tasteful but ordinary blouses and skirts, no different from some of the other women that had ascended the hill.
Stacy glanced over, then sat up straight, stretched, and stood up. ‘You’re right, how did you know?” she asked.
Ranma shrugged. “The redhead, my eyes don’t want to really focus on her face,” the girl said. “She doesn’t feel like a Ki master, so it’s probably magic.”
A moment later the two approaching women joined the two. The redheaded newcomer glanced around, then murmured, “DarkAngel?”
Stacy nodded. “Yes, this is what I look like out of costume.” Motioning to her companion, she added, “Witchcraft, this is Ranma, the boy I mentioned with the curses.”
Witchcraft looked Ranma over and smiled slightly. “I know some women that wouldn’t mind sharing that curse,” she mused. “Perhaps I’ll have to look into using it as a beauty product.”
“It wouldn’t work,” her companion said, shaking her head as Stacy chuckled and Ranma blushed, scowling. “This is what you’d look like if you were born female, right?” the raven-haired woman asked Ranma, who nodded agreement.
“Yeah, that’s what ... what Pop said,” she responded, fighting past a sudden lump in her throat. “That I look just like my mom did.”
Instantly, the other two sobered. “I’m sorry for your loss,” Witchcraft said quietly. Ranma nodded uncomfortably, and she motioned to her companion. “This is Alicia Blackmun, also a mage. I’m better at the flash-bang stuff, but she’s more experienced with the ritual and item side of magic. After you told me about the curses, DarkAngel, I checked with her and she agreed to come along and see what she could learn.”
Alicia looked around at the magnificent view of the park — and the people enjoying it even on a weekday morning. “We’re going to need some privacy,” she said.
“Not a problem,” Stacy responded. “That’s why I decided to meet you here.” She nodded toward the woodlands visible to the south. “There’s any number of little clearings in there, and Witchcraft can set up that ... what did you call it? An S.E.P. field?”
Witchcraft nodded. “Right, a Somebody Else’s Problem field, that’ll work fine.”
“That’s not exactly the kind of name I’d expect for a magic spell,” Ranma commented as the four began walking down the hill. “I’d expect something ... flashier.”
“Oh, it has the usual sonorous, impressive title in the spellbook,” Witchcraft said with a laugh. “But one my teammates, Kinetik, hung that name on it the first time I used it after he joined the team. I liked it, so I’ve used it ever since.”
Alicia Blackmun’s voice trailed off and she opened her eyes, dropping her arms to her side. She looked down at the redheaded girl sitting lotus-fashion in the center of the diagram painted on the grass in what looked like white paint. “All done, Ranma, you can get up now,” she said with a sigh.
Ranma bounced to her feet and jumped out of the diagram. “What have you got?” she eagerly asked, then grimaced when her stomach growled.
“Let’s get this cleaned up first, move elsewhere and set up the picnic, then we’ll talk,” Alicia responded, chuckling as she pulled a bottle of what looked like water out of her backpack. Witchcraft pulled an identical bottle out of her own backpack, and the two quickly started circling the diagram, the white “paint” vanishing in three-foot swaths around the “water” they dribbled on the grass.
Ranma placed a stone on the last corner of the picnic blanket as Witchcraft pulled some sandwiches out of the basket to join the salad, chips and soda already on the blanket. Alicia passed out plates as Stacy loaded them up. Ranma accepted her plate, practically quivering with impatience, and Witchcraft glanced at her and nodded. “I have to say I’m impressed,” she said. “When I was your age I’d have been shaking Alicia by now, demanding answers.”
“Yeah, well, the old ghoul did her best to teach me patience, I guess some rubbed off,” the teenager responded without looking away from Alicia.
Alicia took a few bites from her sandwich. “Yeah, that hits the spot — ritual work can make you hungry,” she murmured, looking at Ranma out of the corner of her eye and smiling slightly. Then she sobered and turned to face her, with a sigh. “Okay, enough teasing ... Ranma, I have good news and sort of good news, and bad news. The bad news is, your two curses are too powerful, I can’t dispel either of them. Witchcraft might eventually, if she keeps up her studies,” — nodding to her redheaded friend — “but by ‘eventually’ I mean years, maybe a decade or more.”
Ranma’s face fell, shoulders slumping. “Damn ... I’d hoped ...” her voice trailed off, and Stacy hugged her sympathetically.
“Well, like I said, I do have some sort of good news,” Alicia continued. Pulling her backpack over to her, she opened one of the side pockets and pulled out a thin copper bracer. “This is an artifact I’ve had sitting in my shop for ages.” She tossed it over to Ranma, who caught it reflexively. “This will prevent water from activating your curse, but only when you’re in your cursed form, like now. Have you noticed a tendency for cold water to seek you out?”
“Yeah, it practically flows uphill sometimes to get at me,” Ranma groused, examining the bracer. It looked worn, old, the engravings of some form of writing she didn’t recognize lightly scratched.
“That’s because the curse wants to be activated,” Alicia said. “So, as best my research can tell no one’s been able to lock it in uncursed form. But in cursed form, the magic doesn’t work against a lock. So if there’s anything you want to do where changing forms would be bad, wear this and you won’t have to worry about it.”
“Uh ... thanks, but I can’t afford this, whatever it costs — and it must cost plenty,” Ranma replied. She tried to hand back the bracer, but Alicia refused to take it.
“Keep it, it’s a gift, you need it a lot more than I do,” she insisted. “And don’t worry about the price, it isn’t exactly an item people are beating down my door to buy. Not many Jusenkyo-cursed people show up in Millennium City, and those that have are all cursed to turn into animals of one sort or another — not a form they want to be locked in. You’re the first Jusenkyo victim I’ve met with a cursed form that’s human.”
“I ... are you sure?” Ranma asked, then when Alicia nodded firmly slipped the bracer over her wrist and gently squeezed it closed. “Thanks, a lot. This’ll help, a little,” she muttered, reaching up to tug on her pigtail. “So what’s the good news?”
“The good news is about the curse from the Wishing Sword,” Alicia said with a forced smile. “I’m not strong enough to dispel it, and Witchcraft doesn’t have the experience yet, but this kind of spell needs reinforcement — it’ll fade over time.”
“Yes!” Ranma shouted gleefully.
Stacy smiled happily, but then sobered. “How long until it’s gone?” she asked.
Alicia shrugged, smile vanishing. “It depends. So long as Ranma doesn’t have reason to fight it, it’ll fade within a few years on the outside. If he consistently resists it, it’ll still fade but take longer. If he gives in to it even occasionally, it won’t fade at all. The best way to avoid that would be to avoid the maniac that made the wish.”
Ranma froze, joy forgotten. “So I can’t go home,” she whispered.
“If that’s where this Kuno lives, no, you shouldn’t,” Alicia responded, sobering.
Stacy reached out to place a gentle hand an Ranma’s shoulder, but the faux-girl shook it off as she jumped to her feet and ran into the trees. Stacy turned to the other two, rising to her feet. “Listen, Witchcraft, Alicia, thanks for the help and I hate to run out on you, but —”
“But Ranma needs you,” Witchcraft finished as she and Alicia stood. “I’m just sorry we couldn’t be more help. Go, find Ranma, don’t worry about us. Will you need help finding him?”
Stacy shook her head. “No, I was afraid something like this might happen, so I planted a tracer on him.”
Witchcraft smiled. “Smart, Nighthawk would approve. We need to head home, anyway. Give me a call and let me know how things go.”
Stacy nodded her agreement, embraced her friends, older and new, pulled a small tracking device out of her purse, and disappeared into the woods after Ranma.
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(Posted Mon, 05 Apr 2010 05:28)
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