Akane frowned as she walked over and picked up the towel lying against the dojo wall and wiped the sweat off her face. The morning training under her sensei had been going as usual; certainly she hadn’t come close to tagging Ranma. She never did, and now didn’t expect that to change any time soon (though she’d never admit it). And truthfully, now that she knew just how Ranma had become so good at the Art she didn’t want to — not if the kind of abuse his father had put him through was what she’d need to face.
Still, even if he was completely out of her league, he’d been ... distracted ... all morning. Not so much as to give her an opening, but still obvious to anyone that sparred with him regularly.
“All right, Ranma, what’s been bothering you today?” she growled as she draped the towel around her neck.
“ ‘Sensei’, while we’re in the dojo,” Ranma said, frowning.
Akane shook her head. “This doesn’t have anything to do with training or fighting, so ‘Ranma’ it is. So what have you been thinking about instead of my training?”
Ranma opened his mouth to deny the accusation, then paused and finally shrugged — she was right. “It’s Mom,” he said. “She’s coming today. I’m thinkin’ about how Pop is gonna take it.”
“Your mom’s coming here!? Today?” Akane almost shrieked. “Why now!? And why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know why now; Nabiki thought it was a good idea, and that’s enough for me,” Ranma said nonchalantly. “And fer why we didn’t tell you ... Akane, ya tend ta blurt things out when ya get angry, and ya get angry at Pop a lot.” The pigtailed boy shrugged again. “I don’t blame ya fer that, he’s a piece a’ work, but that doesn’t change how ya act.”
“And it doesn’t matter now, anyway,” came Nabiki’s voice from where she was leaning against the dojo’s doorframe. Holding up her cellphone, she continued, “She just called me — she’s gotten off the train and is walking here now. She’ll be here in a few minutes.”
Ranma jerked around at the sound of his fiancée’s voice. Then her words registered, and a hard grin broke across his face. “Great! Where’s Pop?”
“In the family room playing shogi with Father.”
“Good,” Ranma replied. “I’m gonna get around so I’m in the yard on that side a’ the house. That way, when Pop uses the Saotome Final Technique when he sees Mom walk through the door I’ll be in the way.”
“Saotome Final Technique?” Akane asked as both sisters looked at Ranma curiously. “I don’t think you’ve taught me that one.”
“Well ... no, I haven’t, I wasn’t sure how you’d take it,” Ranma admitted, reaching up to rub his neck behind his pigtail. “Basically, Pop says ... when you find yourself in a no-win situation ... you run away.”
The girls stared, then Akane broke out laughing. “Oh, yes, the big, tough, I-can-beat-anyone Ranma, and you run away!” she chortled.
“Yes, you run away!” Ranma growled. “When the fight’s lost, there’s no point in stickin’ around an’ takin’ a beatin’ fer nothin’ — ya buy time ta think, figure out how ta come back an’ win.”
Nabiki nodded, one eyebrow lifting in surprise. “That’s a surprisingly pragmatic rule, I like it,” she said, then glared at the still-laughing Akane. “And little sis, before you get too high and mighty, ask yourself what you would have done if you had a choice of losing to the Hentai Horde or running away. Would you have really stayed around to get beaten and maybe raped?”
The blood drained from Akane’s face and she swayed, her laughter cut off as if Nabiki had flipped a switch. Ranma stepped over to steady her and shot a hard look at Nabiki. “That was a bit harsh, Nabiki,” he growled.
Nabiki closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then her shoulders slumped and she walked over to pull Akane into a hug. “Your sensei is right, that was over the top,” she admitted, wincing at the feeling of shivers running through the younger girl’s body. Then, pushing herself back with her hands on Akane’s shoulders, she added, “I’m sure Ranma has no problem thinking of things he’d fight to the death for, but just for honor? No, that’s one thing ‘Uncle’ Saotome got right.”
She held her gaze fixed on Akane’s face until the younger girl nodded, then glanced over at Ranma. “The technique might be fine, but not this time. Get moving, your mother will be here any minute.” Ranma nodded and dashed out of the dojo, and Nabiki turned back to Akane and pasted a smile on her face. “Come on, let’s go enjoy the show.”
Genma sighed as he gazed down at the shogi board; his mind wasn’t on the game, and his desperate position on the board reflected that fact. He glanced about out of the corners of his eyes, looking for something — anything — that might distract his old friend for the brief moment needed for some creative adjustments, but nothing came up, and he sighed louder. “A good game, Soun. Shall we play another?”
“Of course!” the muscular, mustached man sitting across the board instantly agreed.
As the two began setting up the board for another game, Genma found his thoughts again drifting to his son — and his son’s fiancée. He had known there was going to be trouble within minutes of meeting that girl. She was more than smart, she was clever, just the kind of woman that he had avoided at all costs over the years — the kind that saw right through his act, impossible to fool, and ready to deal out pain if he tried. Why couldn’t Ranma have latched onto Kasumi? Genma thought despairingly once more. She’s gentle, submissive, knows her place, and the girl can cook! Even Akane would have been better — that girl has a temper, but lets it control her and lacks the skill to match Ranma even if she kept in control. There’s no way Ranma would let her henpeck him.
But Ranma hadn’t chosen either the youngest or the oldest of the sisters, instead latching onto the middle Tendo as if he’d known her all his life, and for some reason that cold, angry girl had gone along with it. Probably wants some muscle to protect her in case anything goes wrong, the balding martial artist thought bitterly, and now I’ll have to fight to get my son out of her clutches and listening to his elder again.
The elder Saotome had been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard the sound of someone at the front door, or even the approaching footsteps of a small crowd, so the first warning was Kasumi’s excited voice: “Oh, my! Father, Uncle Genma, we have a guest.”
Looking up, Genma froze as he felt his heart turn over at the sight of the woman carrying a cloth-wrapped sword-length bundle standing beside the eldest Tendo daughter carrying a tray for tea. She had ... changed, over the past almost ten years, faint lines around her eyes that hadn’t been there before, hair perhaps faded a bit. But he couldn’t remember the sleek muscles revealed by the short-sleeved blouse and knee-length skirt she wore, nor the self-confidence her body language fairly shouted — nor the cold stare fixed on him like a limpet. Nodoka. Ranma’s not ready, and she knows it! the bit of his mind not stunned by shock wailed.
Genma took a deep breath, then rose and whirled in a single motion and dashed for the yard, only to fold over as a fist slammed into his gut, and Ranma stepped away from the outside wall. “Runnin’ away again, Pop? Not this time. Get back —” Ranma’s demand ended in a squawk as Genma spun, kicked his son’s feet out from under him, then caught the falling boy with feet and hands to lift him up and over and toss him into the koi pond. The self-appointed master of the Saotome School might have been lazy outside of the Art, but the truth was that his master status was deserved — he’d long since realized that Ranma’s spirit form was nimble enough, but slow. Even as Ranma’s shout turned into an uncomfortably feminine shriek (a fact he once again carefully ignored), he sprang to his feet, dashed for the wall, and bounded up and over. Racing across the street, he leaped up to the roof of the nearest one-story building then roof-hopped away as quickly as he could. It was going to take some serious thinking to come up with a way out of this mess.
The suddenly redheaded Ranma shot out of the water and looked around frantically even as her father ran for the wall. Hot water, dammit, where’s — ! There, on the tray Kasumi was holding, but in the wrong direction — by the time the succubus turned human and got dressed, Genma would be well out of sight.
Instead, Ranma headed skyward. As soon as she cleared the roofs of the houses across the street she searched and — yes! There was her father, already a block away and gaining distance. The nature spirit set off after him at her best speed even as she climbed higher, hoping to keep him in sight as he pulled away from her. This isn’t gonna work! she thought despairingly even as she clawed for altitude. Either he’s gonna get lost in the clutter or I’ll hafta climb so high he’ll be too small ta see or he’ll have an attack of brains and drop ta street level and get lost in the maze. I hafta go faster!
Again, Ranma pushed for more speed, struggling to force her way through the wall that she’d found just after she’d first fallen in the spring at Jusenkyo and had been unable to break through ever since. In the weeks since then she’d never seemed to get tired when in this form, no matter how long she practiced her Art, but neither could she seem to push herself for the little bit of extra effort that could make a difference in a fight. And now that lack was going to cost her, she’d never get the answers she and her mom wanted so badly. Gritting her teeth, Ranma threw every ounce of willpower she had at forcing her limits.
Suddenly, Ranma faltered as she felt the strangest sensation run along her back and shoulder blades, a hot shifting, as if her back muscles were twisting and reshaping like the taffy pulling machine he’d once seen. As quickly it came the weird sensation was gone, and a grin spread across her face as suddenly she was swooping down toward the bouncing Genma at a speed she’d never imagined. “Woohoo!!!”
At her shout of glee, Genma jerked and whipped around, looking wildly in all directions but up (not that it would have helped him), and Ranma’s grin grew wider — here she was approaching fast, and Genma couldn’t see her! Approaching really fast. Oh, shit, this is going to hurt.... And with a tackle to do any rugby player proud, she smashed into her father’s chest, her new red bat-like wings wrapping around them, thanks to their momentum, as the collision knocked Genma off the roof. Ranma’s sole thought as they plummeted toward the ground was, Wings?! Where’d they come from?!
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(Posted Wed, 09 Jun 2010 02:08)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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