Ranma sighed with relief as she and Stacy walked through the doors of City Hall and back into the chilly February sunlight, the redhead now dressed in jeans, blouse and a windbreaker mostly zipped up (and a set of bra and panties that Stacy had insisted on and Ranma was trying very hard not to think about—even if they were turning out to be more comfortable than the boxers she’d been wearing). “I’m sure glad that’s over,” the redhead enthused.
Stacy glanced back over her shoulder as they started down the steps toward the statue of Poseidon in the middle of City Center Plaza, a slight frown on her face. “Yes, all the paperwork to establish your legal identity filled out and in process, the papers to make me your legal guardian — now all we can do is wait. That went much more smoothly than I expected,” she mused thoughtfully.
“And that’s a problem because ... ?” Ranma asked, pulling a chuckle out of her blonde companion.
“Your English is remarkably good, right down to slang,” she observed.
Ranma shrugged. “Pop insisted — said with America on top of the world, we’d be dealing with Americans sooner or later and should be able to talk the language. Besides, any foreigners we met were more likely to speak English than Japanese. And it’s kind of hard to fast-talk someone when you don’t speak their language, Ranma thought but didn’t say. Her new friend had had a rather rosy-eyed view of her father, and Ranma had found herself enjoying the fact that this time it had actually been earned.
“So why’s how smooth things went a problem?”
“Because bureaucracies never work that smoothly,” Stacy replied. “Even when the bureaucrat in question is actively trying to help you, there’ll be forms lost, lists of paperwork you won’t have that are absolutely necessary, someone you need to talk to that’s not in the office just then — something always goes wrong. But this time it didn’t, we slid right through like we were on greased rails — which makes me wonder if perhaps the rails were greased, and why.”
At Ranma’s confused look, Stacy shrugged ruefully, and murmured in Japanese, {After living a double life for awhile it makes you paranoid,} then added more loudly in English, “Anyway, since we finished up this quickly we’re going to have time for a visit I was going to put off till tomorrow.”
Ranma looked somewhat dazedly around the huge mall Stacy had brought them to — not the same one where they’d gone shopping for new clothes for the teenager (most of them in what little trunk space Stacy’s tiny car had), but even bigger.
“So you never saw anything like this in Japan?” Stacy inquired with a smile.
“No!” Ranma exclaimed, then hastily added, “I’m sure there are places there just as big, but Dad never went there, at least not with me. Probably afraid he’d spend some money.”
Stacy chuckled.
Carefully ignoring her companion’s humor, Ranma asked, “So why are we here? I thought we got all the shopping done, already.”
“Not hardly,” Stacy replied, “but until we know where you’ll be going to school and what classes the rest can wait. No, we’re here for that.” She nodded to an unobtrusive storefront ahead and to the right, and Ranma felt her eyebrows rise at the sight as they approached.
“A dojo? Here? Why would someone set up a dojo here?” she asked derisively.
“Perhaps because this is where the young people are — the ones that need a little exercise, the wise ones that choose to learn something of self defense, and the rare one that finds a calling.” Stacy brightened at the sight of the old, white-haired, balding Chinese man lounging on a bench a few feet from the dojo entrance. He rose to his feet as she strode over to him, bowed deeply, then embraced him for a moment. “It is good to see you again, little dove,” he said as she broke the embrace. “You don’t visit often enough.”
“I’m sorry, Sensei, but my careers have kept me busy lately. In fact, I wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for Ranma Saotome, here. Ranma, this is Peng Ka-fu, the sensei of this dojo.”
“I see,” the old man said, as he looked over the redhead intently.
Ranma hastily bowed. “My apologies for the disrespect, I meant no offence,” she said softly. While finding this old man and his dojo in the middle of a busy American mall was a serious surprise, the way he held himself and moved, the aura of calm that seemed to radiate from him that Ranma had felt before from a very few masters he and his father had encountered during the training trip — Be very careful here, Ranma, a Chinese sensei might be weird, but I bet he could give Pop a run for his money!
The old man gazed at Ranma for a long moment, face expressionless, but finally nodded. “You did mean it, but I will accept your apology. Just remember, young one, if you don’t want something heard, don’t say it.” Ranma nodded hastily, and Peng turned his attention back to Stacy. “Did you bring young Ranma for training?”
“Uh ... not exactly,” Stacy replied. “Actually, you’re probably the only one in the city I know that could make Ranma a decent sparring partner.”
“I see,” Peng repeated, again looking Ranma over then nodding slowly. “Yes, you hide it well, but once one knows to look the signs are there. And in a girl so young, interesting.”
Ranma winced, hands tightening into fists, and Stacy quickly said, “There’s a bit more to it than that.”
“Well, my next class isn’t for another hour, so come on in, tell me the story behind this.” Peng waved toward the dojo entrance, and Ranma hastily obeyed with Stacy and the sensei following behind.
Ranma knelt in the back room of the dojo with an empty tea cup in his hand, his bracer lying on the low table in front of him and his male form filling out a borrowed gi. Warm water ran through his dark hair and dripped down his face.
Peng nodded, again looking Ranma over slowly. {So, this explains why I was able to detect signs of your skill, you aren’t as familiar with your female form and it threw off your movements,} he murmured in Japanese. {Your school specializes in surprise, doesn’t it?}
{Yes,} Ranma agreed, bowing, face set. {I am the only living student of the Saotome school of Anything Goes Martial Arts.}
Peng stiffened. {Saotome Genma is dead?} he asked.
Ranma gaped. {You knew Pop?} he demanded.
{Yes, Ranma, I did — before he ever married Nodoka, much less before you were born. Stacy, you never told me you were trained by Saotome Genma,} he added, turning to the blonde.
Stacy shrugged. {If he ever told me his last name, I’d forgotten it by the time we separated — I simply called him sensei at the beginning, and Genma by the end. And I didn’t realize at the time that the martial arts came in schools as well as styles, so I never asked what the name of his School was. What was he like when you knew him?}
Peng hesitated, and Ranma chuckled harshly. {The truth, sensei, no need to sugarcoat it,} the boy said, and Peng smiled wryly.
{Very well, the unvarnished truth it is. Normally, Genma was not someone you wanted around — greedy, lazy, focused on his own needs and desires to the extent that it didn’t even occur to him to worry about how they would impact others. But when it really mattered, he would have your back or even charge in first if innocents were in danger. A weak and selfish but at heart good man.}
Ranma nodded his agreement, staring off into empty space, and the room fell silent for a time.
Finally, when Ranma showed no sign of returning to the present, Stacy sighed and said, {Sensei, I brought Ranma here for more than just to introduce you to a sparring partner. She paused long enough to see that she had Ranma’s attention, then continued, {While Ranma will be staying with me at least long enough to help deal with the men responsible for his father’s death, thanks to the way he was introduced to the police his official identity will be attached to his girl form and that is how he will spend most of his day time—especially since both the police and the yakuza are looking for the boy that was with his father when he died. And while Ranma will be joining me in my nighttime activities as a male, that won’t be as Ranma.} Hmmm, we’ll have to come up with a name. {What I was hoping is that you would allow Ranma to hang out here after school a few days a week, so that he can spend time as himself on a regular basis.}
{Of course he can,} Peng agreed instantly.
Ranma sighed softly, his shoulders slumping as he felt a thrumming tension he hadn’t been aware of vanish, then bowed deeply to the old Chinese man. {Thank you,} he said, his sincerity plain.
{The honor is mine,} Peng responded, returning the bow. {And now, why don’t you show me how well you’ve learned your father’s lessons?} Ranma bounced to his feet, perking up instantly, and Peng smiled.
Deborah Manning paced nervously around the room she’d occupied for several hours, rubbing her arms and shivering. Partly that was because she was still wearing the skimpy lingerie she’d worn to bed the previous evening. But mostly, it was her fear was growing stronger by the minute.
When the Oriental thugs had first broken into her home and killed the policemen assigned to guard her, she’d been certain she was going to die along with them. Then, when instead she’d been tied up, blindfolded, wrapped in a blanket and tossed into a car trunk, she was certain she was going to be gang raped and then murdered.
Instead, when the blindfold had been removed she’d found herself in this tastefully luxurious room. Whoever had furnished it had gone for the minimalist approach, bookshelves (with the books written in some oriental alphabet she didn’t recognize), a few chairs and low table, some Japanese watercolor prints (those she did recognize) — but no windows. Now her fear of being gang raped had vanished, but she had no idea what was going to happen and that terrified her.
Suddenly, she heard a key in the room’s single door. Even as she turned to face it the door opened and a middle-aged man dressed in a high quality business suit strode through, followed by several of the thugs that had kidnapped her. The man wasn’t someone she’d ever seen, of average height, dark hair, definitely Oriental although she didn’t know the people there well enough to pick out regional differences. All in all, he looked rather ordinary ... until she saw his eyes and froze in place, hands still on her arms, at the predator gazing at her through them.
Without a word he slowly circled her, eyes examining every inch of her scantily clad body. Finally, as the tension grew unbearable, Debbie asked, “What do you want with me?” She didn’t see the heavy open-handed slap that smashed into her cheek hard enough to spin her around and drop her to her knees.
“You will speak only when spoken to, and obey whatever orders I or any of my lieutenants give,” the man said as he walked around to stare down at her face. “Do you understand?” She simply stared up at him, hand pressed to her bruising cheek, stunned speechless, then doubled over as his kick exploded into her stomach hard enough to pick her up off her knees and drop her to the hardwood floor, where she rolled to her hands and knees and vomited up what little was left in her stomach.
Through her dry heaves, she faintly heard the man say, “You did well to pick her up. We need to keep the pressure up, cannot let anyone think that they can escape from us once we have acquired them. She is certainly beautiful enough to send to Tokyo once the pipeline is reopened and her blond hair will be a draw. Until then I can make use of her. Tell the servants that after she cleans up the mess she made she is to be prepared for my service.”
Even as she fought for breath, Debbie felt her fear ease off — whatever happened to her, however ... unpleasant ... it was going to be, she would live. And she wasn’t going to be smuggled out of the country like the Stanson sisters had been, she had a chance. Even if she couldn’t escape on her own, there would be people looking for her. And not just because of her and Michael, in the name of the murdered cops as well.
There was hope.
At a stoplight Stacy took her eyes from the road long enough to glance at the redhead in the passenger seat next to her, smiling at the broad grin on Ranma’s face in spite of the large bruise forming above one eye. {You seem to be in a much better mood,} she commented. {You enjoy losing that much?}
{Hey, everybody loses sometimes, especially to someone as good as Peng-sensei, but I never lose the same way twice!} Ranma boasted. {And did you see the way he took me down the second time? I didn’t even see it coming, it was great! I can’t wait to see if I can figure out how he did that and return the favor next time we spar.}
Stacy chuckled ruefully, shaking her head. {Well, at least you’ll have a good cover for the bruises your coming nightlife will inevitably produce,} she said wryly.
Ranma instantly sobered. {So when does that start? Tonight?}
{No,} Stacy said, {we need to get a costume for you first. It won’t do for you to join me in ordinary street clothes and a makeshift mask, then later show up in a costume—it would make it too easy to pinpoint when you first arrived.}
When the young girl’s face fell into a cute pout and she made puppydog eyes at Stacy, her new guardian-to-be laughed, then jerked when the car behind them honked and she realized the light had turned green. Hastily pushing down on the accelerator, she mock-growled, {Now, none of that! I’ve been exposed to the dreaded puppydog eyes over the last few years, and I’ve built up an immunity.}
Ranm laughed, then asked, {So when do I get a costume?}
{We’ll get you measured tomorrow. For tonight, we’ll be eating with some old friends of mine that I want you to meet.}
Several hours later, Ranma growled, tugging at the hem of the skirt she was wearing as she and Stacy walked down a condominium hallway. {I thought you said I wouldn’t have to wear these!} she complained.
“Speak English, Steve and Jennifer don’t speak Japanese. And no, I said you wouldn’t have to wear them very often,” Stacy replied. “I wouldn’t have wasted money buying them for you if you weren’t going to be wearing them at all. Jeans or slacks will work for school and you can avoid most events that would call for dressing up by just claiming to be a tomboy that isn’t interested in them, but there’s still going to be the rare occasion that you need to look your best.”
“And eating alone with friends is one of those times?” Ranma asked.
“Not normally, no, but this time there’s someone you’ll be meeting that I want absolutely certain you’re a girl — she isn’t the best, yet, at keeping secrets,” Stacy said, then paused in front of a door. “We’re here, so please get that snarl off your face.”
Ranma rolled her eyes but complied with Stacy’s request as the blonde pushed the doorbell. The pair heard the sound of approaching feet, then the door opened to reveal a nicely dressed brunette in her late twenties. “Stacy, you’re on time this time!” she gasped in mock amazement, then grinned as Stacy rolled her eyes.
“I was only really late once. Well, twice. No, make that ... okay, perhaps you have a point,” Stacy admitted, then continued, “Jennifer, this is Ranma Saotome, the daughter of the man that taught me how to fight and hopefully my new ward if all the paperwork goes through. Ranma, this is Jennifer Dansville. She married my best friend from college and his become one of my best friends since then.”
Ranma started to bow then froze, looking a bit uncertain, and Jennifer instantly waved the two inside the condo and closing the door. “Come in, come in, this time it’s Steve that’s late, he’ll be here in about a half hour. But in the meantime—Kat! Your Momma Stacy’s here!” she called out.
Instantly the sound of running feet were heard, and through the floor above, and a young girl, about five or six years old, came barreling down the spiral staircase at the end of the hallway that emptied into the front room the three women were standing in. Charging down the hall, she slammed into Stacy, embracing her in a solid hug. “Mommy! It’s been forever since you’ve been here! And you missed my recital!”
“I know, dearheart, I’m really sorry, I wish I could come by more often, I really do,” Stacy said softly, putting her arms around the small girl’s shoulders. “But your mommy and daddy take good care of you and I visit when I can. Why don’t we go out for ice cream this weekend?”
Kat nodded, her face pressed against Stacy’s stomach, and for a few minutes the two simply stood in their mutual embrace. Finally, Stacy sighed and gently pushed Kat away. “Kat, there’s someone I want you to meet,” she said. She turned the girl to face Ranma, and the redhead gazed down at the child — lithe, brown haired, Ranma would have known her for Stacy’s daughter anywhere, but there was something else, something familiar ... and were those slight epicanthic folds at the corner of her eyes?
Stunned, Ranma lifted wide eyes to gaze at Stacy, and the older woman nodded, nodded slightly at the question in her eyes that she was too stunned to ask. “Ranma, this is Katherine Danville, the adopted daughter of Steve and Jennifer. Kat, I’d like you to meet your sister, Ranma Saotome.”
“My sister?” Kat questioned. She looked Ranma over and then frowned up at Stacy. “She’s awfully old for you to be her mommy,” she insisted.
Stacy laughed. “I should have said your half-sister,” she replied. “You have the same father.”
“Oh,” Kat said, then looked at Ranma. “I don’t remember my first daddy, and Daddy and my two mommies don’t know anything and Mommy Jen just told me today that he died. Can you tell me about him?”
Voice blocked by a sudden massive lump in her throat, Ranma nodded, smiling tremulously down at the child.
“Yay!” Kat shouted. She grabbed Ranma’s hand and pulled her toward the hallway to the spiral staircase. “Come on, we’ll go to my room so we don’t have to listen to the old folks talk, that’s always boring anyway.”
Ranma glanced at Stacey, then at her nod and whisper of “Keep it clean” allowed Kat to haul her off.
Jennifer watched the two vanish up the staircase, then said, “You know this isn’t exactly going to discourage Kat from taking those martial arts classes she’s been demanding?”
Stacy shrugged, smiling softly as she continued gazing at the now empty hallway. “If she takes after me at all, you might as well give it up — she’s going to nag until she gets them.”
“And she takes after you a lot,” Jennifer said with a sigh. “Come on, you can tell me all about it while I finish getting dinner ready.”
Read the comments on this episode
(Posted Sat, 21 Aug 2010 23:39)
Questions? Problems? Suggestions?
Send a mail to addventure@bast-enterprises.de
or use the contact form.
らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
All other series and their characters are © by their respective creators or owners. No claims of ownership of these characters are implied by the authors of this Addventure, or should be inferred.
The Anime Addventure is a non-profit site.