Ranma Saotome was amazed, as Friday ended and he began walking home with Nabiki, that his curse had yet not been revealed. He felt that Genma, for once, had an extremely good idea in securing permission for him to use the faculty shower after gym class. But, he reasoned, it would be the only way for gym to be at all tenable.
He found the classes difficult, as he wasn’t certain he was in the right grade level, but Nabiki was helping him, and he thought that if he put in a bit of effort, he could scrape by. School had never really interested him anyway.
News of his arranged engagement to Nabiki **had** spread though, and some people had simultaneously offered him their congratulations and their condolences. When a few of the boys had made perverted remarks, he’d dealt with them. The remarks had stopped after that.
Ranma Yagami had adapted to life at Furinkan in his usual manner: stake out his own place by sheer force of will, and damn the consequences.
There had been one incident that threatened the peace so far, and he knew there would be more in the future. Tatewaki Kuno had attacked him at lunchtime Thursday, shouting at the top of his lungs about ridding the world of the “demon’s blood monster filth”. Clearly, the kendoist had read the newspaper and put two and two together. That he’d seemed to have gotten thirty-seven as a result didn’t appear to make ten yen’s difference.
In any event, Ranma had disposed of him easily enough. A simple but brutal knee to the gut had knocked the wind out of the loudmouth. After that it had been child’s play to steal (and snap) the wooden practice sword, clock him hard on the skull with the hilt – which helpfully rendered him unconscious – and throw him forty yards into the swimming pool. He hadn’t even needed to use his flames. Ranma didn’t bother fishing him out. He knew someone else would.
Yes, Ranma Yagami was adapting well to life in Nerima. It was then that Nabiki invited him to join them the next day for ice-skating. Certainly it would give him nightmares for the rest of his life, and also cause the long-term hospitalization of at least twenty nearly-innocent bystanders.
Or so he believed.
Nevertheless, he accepted the invitation, even knowing it would bring doom upon them all.
Eventually the trio had found their way to the Tendou compound, where they said their goodbyes and Ranma Yagami turned around, to head for the opposite end of town and the apartment he lived in.
His walk was not without interruption though: about three-quarters of the way home, the wall he was walking beside exploded outward. When the dust cleared, Ranma saw a vaguely familiar young man. The young man seemed not to be paying attention to him, though. He looked upwards and yelled, “Where the Hell am I now?”
Ranma just stared at him. After about four minutes, the other boy noticed him at last.
”Yagami”, he said, in an empty and cold voice.
Ranma nodded. “Ryouga Hibiki. It’s been a while.”
The one now identified as Ryouga Hibiki clenched his fists. “Not long enough.” He looked to the ground on his right side and spat, and then turned his eyes back to Ranma.
For most Japanese, this would be viewed as a grievous insult, one worthy of violence. To Ranma, it was a little bit insulting, but not enough for him to do anything about it. He was a Yagami, and he had been insulted in much worse fashion more than once before, and not done anything in response.
Still...
“You know, Hibiki, if I were anyone else, you’d probably be dead for that”, said Ranma, without inflection or emotion.
Had he said it to anyone else, it might even have been heeded. Hibiki, however, just clenched his fists even harder.
And for good measure, he added, “You’re in Nerima, by the way. It’s part of Tokyo.” He smiled, slightly. “Still after Saotome?” This, he asked with a somewhat lighter voice.
It caused the other boy to clench his fists so hard that blood began falling to the ground. Hibiki replied, in a voice that promised death, “That coward still owes me a fight.”
Ranma nodded. “Just don’t kill him, if you ever do find him.” He brought his right index finger and thumb to his lips, and held them tip to tip, touching the skin. He held them there for a few seconds then dropped his hand to his side. “I have a prior claim.”
This caused Ryouga’s eyebrows to lift. Then they narrowed. More blood dripped to the ground. “What did that bastard do to you then?”
Ranma shook his head. “Nothing.”
Ryouga growled. “And you say you have a prior claim?” His eyes narrowed. “I’ve seen Hell because of him!”
For about thirty seconds, Ranma stayed silent, mentally prodding Ryouga’s unfocused aura. He then turned away, to continue walking home. He looked backward at Hibiki, and said, “It’s my right to kill my friends as I see fit.” He then walked forward, leaving Ryouga behind.
The eternally lost boy stood still for nearly an hour at that remark, alone with his thoughts.
~_~
(((Saturday, the next day)))
As agreed, the three met up at the ice-skating rink at eleven. By this time, the place had been open two hours, but it did not have many customers as yet.
Ranma Yagami quickly proved to be absolutely horrible at ice-skating. Within twenty minutes, he’d fallen twelve times, several times landing on his face. After about the thirtieth fall within the space of an hour, he was considerably irritated and ready to leave.
It was then that he heard a soft chuckle a few feet away. He got up into a sitting position, and looked up and over to see Nabiki and Saotome standing easily on the ice. Nabiki wore an amused smirk, but Saotome...Saotome was grinning and quietly laughing.
It did not improve Ranma Yagami’s mood. In fact, it made it considerably worse. Slowly, cautiously, he made it to his feet. He then looked down at the ice.
He had noticed, around his fifteenth fall, that this was no standard rink. It seemed, in fact, to be little more than a thick sheet of ice over an enormous pool, a pool probably at least five times Olympic size. The sheet of ice was probably two feet thick. This was considerable, but it probably cost an order of magnitude less to maintain than if the pool were simply frozen to the bottom, were that even possible.
When supplied sufficient heat, ice became water.
“Saotome”, he said in a questioning tone, while raising his right hand.
The other boy replied, “Yeah?”
Ranma Yagami’s eyes narrowed as purple light flashed around his right hand, light that became fire. “Cool off.” And then he blasted the ice underneath the other boy.
There was a tremendous splash as two feet of ice vaporized in less than a thousandth of a second, and two people fell into the water beneath the sheet.
Ranma slowly made his way over to stand a foot or so away from the edge. He saw Nabiki getting out, and nodded to himself. She glared at him, but that meant nothing. And as she wasn’t a fighter (that he could tell), she couldn’t have any sort of physical revenge on him.
He then looked and saw that Saotome had...changed? He watched as Saotome crawled onto the ice, breathing heavily. His hair had grown very long, and...he didn’t seem to be a he at all! Ranma looked closer, and his eyes twitched.
Saotome had turned into a girl. This was rich.
**snicker** Yagami’s eyes twitched again. He snorted.
The air was then filled with the sound of laughter. Yagami shook as the volume rose. He couldn’t move of his own will; he couldn’t breathe. Quite shortly he collapsed. When he stopped laughing several minutes later, he was totally exhausted. He looked around, and saw that nearly everyone in the building was staring at him. Some of them were shivering, as if from fear.
He looked over at Saotome, who was shivering worse than any of them. Carefully, he made his way over to the girl. The thought made him snort again.
He leered down at the girl. Her wet clothes were molded to her body. The effect was...visual.
“You rule, Saotome. You rule.” He then carefully walked off the ice floor. He took off the skates, retrieved his shoes, put them on, and then waited by the exit. He knew that the other two would be along shortly.
Saotome had some explaining to do.
~_~
In another part of the world, the man who referred to himself only as ‘K2’ was finishing up his workout. He would then shower, eat a light meal, and rest for the night.
He was a giant of a man, standing just a shade under 6'7. He seemed to be rather young, perhaps in his early twenties. He had a hard face, checkered by a day’s stubble. His short, dark purple hair framed the side of his head.
His torso was unencumbered, per normal for his lighter training; he had not felt like straining himself this particular evening. His upper body was extremely muscular, with no visible fat. Given the intensity of his training, it wouldn’t have been surprising if there was none at all. He wore only a thin pair of black workout pants to cover himself.
It had been five years before when he’d made his appearance at a King of Fighters tournament, as its sponsor. Many of the top fighters in the world had been participants, and he’d defeated everyone he faced with contemptuous ease.
When he was asked who he was, he asked in return, “Do you not recognize me?” When the original questioner admitted that he didn’t, the man only laughed. He then pointed one hand towards a distant (but still visible) mountain, and seemed only to flex his muscles for an instant.
Everyone present had felt the colossal buildup and discharge of power. Nobody present had seen a blast.
They were too busy gaping at the horizon: the mountain had exploded.
The man who called himself K2 simply said, “That is who I am.” He then walked away.
This night, about five years later, he had finished his workout. He stripped and walked to the washroom, where he quickly washed himself down. In the kitchen of his training facility he pulled a one-pound package of roast beef from the fridge, cut himself a hunk of dark bread, poured some water from a jug, and called it a meal. He finished that, and called it a night.
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(Posted Tue, 04 May 2004 22:01)
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