Nabiki grimaced. The hike wasn’t so bad, but now they were in for some horrible suffering.
Akane had decided to take Ranma’s advice and went a step further, emptying her food reserves so they could have dinner without Ranma running around gathering anything. Which was good, because Akane was way too tired to follow him and learn how to provide for herself.
It was bad, because Akane was cooking dinner for them. And Nabiki hadn’t fully recovered from her last attempt.
Sure, it was months before she’d met Ranma, but blue rice isn’t something you recover from in less than a year. She’d sold a sample to the Furinkan chem labs; last she heard they were conducting experiments with semiintelligent fungus.
She was fairly certain this “meal” wouldn’t kill them, but only because she could see from here that Akane hadn’t grabbed motor oil instead of vegetable oil or anything like that. Even so, that looked like way too much vinegar. “Um, Akane?”
Akane turned, the bottle of vinegar still pouring. “Yeah?” she asked.
Egads Nabiki thought with a whimper. Akane had that perky tone of cooking that meant she had stopped paying attention to everything, including the fact that she was so sore she shouldn’t be able to move. “Isn’t that a bit too much vinegar?” Nabiki asked quickly.
Ranma was staring, mouth agape. “I am not eating that,” he whispered.
Akane tilted her head at Nabiki, clearly confused. “Huh?” she looked at her bottle. “Eep! This isn’t wine! Well, no matter. I’ll just add something else to cover it!”
Ranma and Nabiki watched in growing horror as Akane decimated her provisions in a futile attempt to create food. “Y’know,” Ranma offered as Akane started scooping what looked like half-melted plutonium icecream into the pot, “maybe it would be a good idea to throw this out and start over?”
“Nonsense!” Akane declared proudly, grabbing a few bowels. “All the flavors liven it up! Now go on, enjoy!”
Ranma looked at the bowl Akane thrust into his hands. It was filled with...it looked like an oil slick on yellow sludge sprinkled with that gunk you find in a rotten tree. He looked to Nabiki for guidance.
Nabiki looked to her own bowl and felt the pride radiating off Akane. “The honor of the first taste goes to the chef,” she declared politely.
Akane blinked, shrugged, and took a bite.
Her face went white. She started sweating. She swallowed loudly and gasped. Then she screamed and passed out.
Ranma and Nabiki were still staring at Akane as they casually, but quickly, threw their bowls over their shoulders and as far away as they could.
Three weeks later…
“…and no one knows where the pathogen came from,” the reporter was saying. “Civil forces have contained the diseased animals, however no travelers are to enter the mountain region until the last of the creatures have been eradicated.”
Back to the now…
Ranma tossed the rice a bit as it sizzled. “The provisions I can understand, but did she take half the kitchen?” he marveled.
Nabiki shook her head. “Akane gets weird ideas with cooking, start to finish. I’m just glad we didn’t have to taste that stuff.”
Ranma blanched. “Well that’s why ya had her taste it first, right?”
“Doesn’t always work that way,” Nabiki confided. “In fact she tends to be insulted by the possibility that it isn’t perfection.”
Ranma shook his head. “Well this is almost ready. Mess kit ready?”
Nabiki pulled out a couple simple steel trays; smaller, tougher, and more practical than Akane’s crockery. “Yours and mine.”
“Good,” Ranma declared. A few minutes later they were eating quietly.
Nabiki paused and looked back at the tents. “You sure she’s okay?”
“Yeah,” Ranma affirmed. “Nothing she put in there could hurt her that bad with just a taste.”
Nabiki nodded slowly. “She should still eat something.”
“She will,” Ranma said easily, nodding to the pan with Akane’s portion still in it.
It was about an hour before Akane woke up. Her head felt…strange. She looked around and determined that she was in a tent, lying on a bedroll, fully clothed. So reassured she opened the tent flap and crawled out. The sun was a bit lower than it should be, hiding behind a bank of clouds. “Nabiki?”
Her sister was nearby, next to a griddle and a dying flame. She smiled. “Feeling better, Akane?”
“Uhhh. I think so. What hit me?”
Nabiki considered a few responses. “You are your cooking again.”
Akane scowled. “And I suppose you could do better?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Nabiki said calmly. “But I know someone who can.”
“Who?”
“Me,” a distinctly female voice said. Ranma wavered into sight, sitting at the base of a nearby tree.
Akane glanced back at the clouds. “Rain?” Nothing looked too damp.
“Just enough,” Ranma grumbled half-heartedly.
Nabiki smirked as she served Akane her meal. “Oh you love that body and you know it, lovergirl.”
“I’m a guy!” Ranma shot back with suitable virulence to the idea. “This ain’t me!”
“Whatever you saaay,” Nabiki sang. She giggled at Ranma’s expression and emotion. “Just teasin’ babe.”
’Babe?’ Ranma mouthed. She shook her head; Nabiki felt like she was having fun, but that didn’t change the fact that Ranma was none too pleased with her transformation. “I suppose it would be better if I had a choice,” she muttered.
Akane missed all the subtext in the conversation. Even if she wasn’t still a bit groggy, she didn’t have any mystical empathy and couldn’t see any of Ranma’s expressions or body language. So she put her foot in it. “Can you do that?” she wondered.
“Probably not,” Nabiki said after a moment’s thought.
“Huh,” Akane said, taking a bite. “This isn’t bad.”
“Thanks,” Ranma said idly. “Maybe tomorrow I can show you the recipe.”
Akane nodded. “Maybe,” she agreed.
Nabiki watched the casual conversation and allowed a smile. The whole building trust project was coming along.
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(Posted Sat, 30 Apr 2011 08:45)
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