Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ A Fine Day ❯ Chapter 1

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A Fine Day

a Ranma 1/2 Fanfic by Bjorn (ansonbi@gmail.com)

Ranma 1/2 copyright 1987, 1999 by Takahashi Rumiko.
Publishing rights by Shogakukan Inc. (Japan) and Viz
Inc. (North America) This work is not intended to infringe
those rights, and is done without knowledge or consent of
the rights holders.

Thanks to Allyn Yonge and Gary Kleppe for helpful comments.

Comments and criticism can be sent to ansonbi@gmail.com
and will be greatly appreciated.

This fanfic has been certified "100% Angst Free" by the
Commission for Humour in Fan Fiction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It has been said that life is no more than a constant
struggle to overcome adversity. As with many things
supposedly said by anonymous individuals, this has been
subject to much philosophical debate. Some believe that the
hardship is a test of one's fitness; others argue that it is
a process in which we become stronger or die trying.

Still others, perhaps wiser, perhaps more cynical, say: who
cares? The *point* is that just when you think you're on
top of things, life will glue a bomb to the underside of
your tongue and then light the fuse.

Consider, for example, this morning. At the Tendo family
table, food was vanishing. Since it was vanishing into
Ranma, no one thought too much of this. Behind the barely
visible blur of chopsticks, however, something was amiss.
It was subtle, true. In fact, no one had quite put their
finger on what exactly was different, but the difference was
there, and the disruption of the normal harmony was making
everyone at the table uncomfortable. Not surprisingly,
then, when Akane started, set down her rice bowl, and turned
to peer intently at her fiance, a certain relief filled the
air.

"Ranma," she said, "why are you in such a good mood?"

Relief turned into embarrassment.

The chopstick express stopped as Ranma blinked at the
question. He knew the answer perfectly well. Genma had
overslept by a precious two minutes that had allowed Ranma
to wake up before the traditional bucket of water. To boot,
for almost six months now, Ranma had been falling off
balance while executing Wind Over Singing Stones. This
morning, while sparring under a cloud-free sky, he had not
only figured out what caused the problem, but fixed it, and
used the repaired technique to re-acquaint his father with
the gravel at the bottom of the koi pond a whole fifteen
punches earlier than his previous record. Most glorious of
all, he had gotten all the way through to Kasumi's excellent
breakfast without once getting wet.

Knowing is not the same as articulating, however, and so
Ranma simply shrugged, and grinned at Akane. "Dunno. Just
seems like a good day."

Ranma's casually confessed ignorance would normally have
prompted Akane to deliver a biting witticism. In fact, she
had slid one of her favourites into the chamber and pulled
back the hammer when she made the mistake of meeting his
gaze. His open smile, equal parts confidence and charm,
forced her head to duck and a blush to her cheeks. Peering
up at him through her lashes, she managed a tiny smile and a
feeble, "I suppose it is."

Akane's own smile stopped the mood-breaking comment on his
tongue, as well as Ranma's mind and heart. Slightly dazed,
he went back to perfecting his disappearing rice trick. The
rest of the table followed his lead, if not his methods.

A fine day, indeed.

* * *

"Kasumi?"

"Yes, Akane?"

Frowning at the three bentos neatly aligned on the counter,
Akane asked, "Did you make Ranma's lunch today?"

Kasumi blinked. "Why do you ask?"

"I already made his lunch. Remember?"

"Oh my!" Kasumi put her fingers to her mouth. "I'd
completely forgotten. Well, I wouldn't worry about it. I'm
sure I won't have any troubles getting rid of an extra
bento." She smiled gently at her sister.

Akane beamed back. "Thanks, Kasumi!" Snatching her bento
from the counter and Ranma's from the fridge, she bolted out
the door.

* * *

Two figures pounded down the road. More correctly, one did,
while the other ghosted along the fence-top, but observers
who pointed out that discrepancy generally regretted it.

"Ranma! Slow down!"

Throwing himself into a roll, Ranma came up in a loose ready
stance facing Akane. "What? What's the problem?"

"Nothing's wrong," she said, pushing her bangs out of her
eyes to look up at him. "We're just early. Look,
Mrs. Takemura hasn't even started washing her walk. There's
no need to run."

Ranma did not relax as he thought about that. He had been
trained to always be on guard in unusual circumstances.
Being early to school qualified.

Noticing his confusion, Akane explained, "You finished your
sparring early this morning. That's all." Well, and there
had been no fights over breakfast, but no need to bring that
up. "We can walk and still get there when we normally do."

If anything, Ranma seemed more confused. "Oh. But...."

"But what?"

He fidgeted. "I like to run."

Akane gaped at him, and then a smile brought her jaw up.
"Idiot," she said fondly. "All right, have it your way."

* * *

Shampoo pedaled furiously. Just a little more speed,
and... now! Her foot lashed out, caught the fire hydrant,
and pushed up and off to launch the bike in a perfect triple
flip onto the rooftop. With no time to spare, she resumed
pumping.

The delivery had already been made. They wouldn't need her
back at the Nekohanten for a while. But if she jumped this
gap, yes, like that, and built up even more speed on the
down slope, then she could launch her bike into the air,
eject, and land directly in the loving embrace of her
husband!

Unfortunately, as her husband was elsewhere, the
not-so-loving embrace of the fence was substituted.

Shampoo's first thought, as she painfully extricated
herself, was that it was a good thing her husband wasn't
around. Displays like this made people snicker when you
started talking about three thousand years of glorious
Amazon history.

After dusting herself off, though, her eyes narrowed. Like
any good Amazon wife, she knew every detail of her husband's
habits and schedules. One had to be able to appear at any
point to remind him of the virtues of fidelity, and the ways
in which a bonbori could encourage proper behaviour.
Admittedly, the task was a bit harder with Ranma's exploding
dung heap of a life, but Shampoo's husband should have been
there to protect her from the fence!

If Ranma wasn't here, it could only mean that the violent
marriage-breaking pretender of a fiancee had done something
terrible to him. Well, that or he was running early, but
that was about as likely as... as... as a nice practical
Chinese Amazon coming up with a metaphor on the spur of the
moment, that's what.

Shampoo dramatically thrust a fist in the air. "No worry,
Airen! Shampoo save you from too-too Violent Girl and mew!"

"You do that, dear," Mrs. Takemura encouraged absently as
she prepared another ladleful of water.

The cat shook herself dry and stared mournfully at her
sodden clothes. Perhaps a trip back to the Nekohanten,
first.

* * *

"Hey, no Kuno," Ranma commented as they slowed down at the
gates of Furinkan High.

Akane looked around. "You're right," she said, surprised.
"You know, I always thought he got here long before us.
Well, let's get to class. I want to go over my notes a
bit."

"Okay. I could do with a quick nap." Ranma brightened at
the prospect.

Akane stared at him. "How much sleep do you need, anyways?"

* * *

Tatewaki Kuno, age 17, Blue Thunder of Furinkan High, strode
through the exact middle of the school gates, proceeded to
the exact middle of the courtyard, and turned. He would
wait here, so that his opponent would have a clear
opportunity to see him and tremble in fear before he, the
Agent of the Wrath of Heaven, would vanquish the vile
sorcerer Saotome.

His knuckles whitened and cracked as his grip tightened
around the bokken. Through deception and vile treachery,
the villainous cur had managed to keep both the beauteous
Akane Tendo and his pig-tailed goddess enslaved even in the
face of o'erwhelming defeat. Today, that hell-wrought magic
would come to an end, he swore, or his name was not Tatewaki
Kuno, rising star of the kendo world. And with that
victory, Akane Tendo would fall to her knees to give
gratitude and pay homage to the mighty sword which had ended
her foul captivity. And not to be outdone, the pig-tailed
goddess would vow to devote her life to polishing and caring
for that self-same weapon. And then... then... this! And
possibly that! And certainly a whole bunch of those!

Preoccupied with his fantasies and fighting back the rising
tide of drool, Kuno did not notice the school bell until
classes had already started. When he did, the burning
feeling rose somewhat in his body to mutate into anger.

That despicable sorcerer had tricked Tatewaki Kuno,
Lightning of the Gods! He had ignored an honourable
challenge, and left Tatewaki Kuno, Upperclassman, trapped in
front of the school! Which could only mean that the dog was
elsewhere. Most likely -- Kuno's eyes widened -- inflicting
some evil upon the wondrous pig-tailed goddess! Like this,
and that, and those!

The bokken rose above his head, to greet the commandments
descending from heaven. "Saotome!" Kuno trumpeted. "This
shall not go unpunished!"

* * *

Ranma had been early. So had everyone else, but Principal
Kuno really cared about Ranma. On the day that he had
chosen to specially enforce the tardiness regulations, on
the day with the *really* dirty bathrooms, Ranma had shown
up early. It was obviously a plot aimed at ruining the
principal's mood. He sighed and fingered his lei,
remembering. The toilets had even been rigged with
exploding pineapples.

As he stood on the roof of the school, surveying his domain,
the Principal's face hardened. Ranma might have escaped
this time, but not for good. Today, that little
troublemaker was going down.

A shout from below caught his attention. Looking over the
edge, he began to tear up.

"Oh, Tacchi," he sniffled, "not wantin' all the Kahuna's
effort ta be wasted? What a good son you are, yeah...."

* * *

Akane looked up from her chemistry notes, grateful for any
distraction. "Ranma, did you hear something?"

Ranma continued to blissfully snore.

"Of course you didn't."

* * *

Mousse's abnormally sharp ears picked up the pad of
footsteps across the floor. Dropping the crate of onions,
he turned, shouting, "Shampoo, my love!"

His hearing was more than sharp enough to tell the
difference between a cat and a woman walking.
Unfortunately, his brain sometimes had a hard time keeping
up.

The cat picked herself up off the floor and strutted into
the kitchen. Shampoo returned a few seconds later, picked
up the crate, and dropped it on the still-comatose Mousse's
head. "Mousse no trip on Shampoo," she sniffed.

"Sorry, my love."

She contemplated kicking him once on general principles, and
then did it twice for fun instead. Drawing her foot back
for a third, she remembered the events of the morning, and
kicked the hidden weapons master twice as hard. "Aiyah!
Stupid Mousse make Shampoo forget what she doing!"

Ignoring him as he struggled to his feet, she bounced over
to the kitchen. "Great-Grandmother! Shampoo go out for
rest of day. Is important!"

"All right, Shampoo. Try and be back before the evening
rush, hey?"

Already bolting for the door, Shampoo yelled out an
acknowledgment.

"Wait," Mousse croaked. Clearing his throat, he tried
again. "Shampoo! Where are you going?"

"Ranma," came back the fading reply. "Is too-too terrible!"

Mousse froze.

It was a constant gall in his existence that Ranma Saotome
had so horrifically abused the laws of the Amazons to steal
his rightful bride away. Watching the woman he loved throw
herself at the monster's feet in blind obedience to
tradition was worse. Now, to discover that Ranma not only
abused the laws, but Shampoo as well... no one could hurt
his Shampoo! He rose to his feet and clawed at the sky.

"Saotome!" he began.

A bucket's worth of water drowned out his tirade, and a
hurtling kettle knocked him to the ground. He set about
awkwardly flapping loose of his robes. Of *course* the
kettle would be empty, he thought bitterly. He looked up to
quack his frustration, and Cologne's gaze stapled him to the
ground.

"Mousse..." she ground out as she advanced, her staff
clicking ominously.

The duck gulped and huddled deeper within his wings.

"Where are those damn onions?"

* * *

Ranma stretched contentedly, his hands behind his head. It
had been an excellent nap, since none of his teachers had
seen fit to wake him up. Not that it was really his fault
he'd accidentally thrown a Moko Takabisha when Mr. Konishi
had thrown an eraser at his head yesterday. No one got
hurt, after all.

Still, now it was lunchtime. Meals were always a highlight
of Ranma's day, but he was especially looking forward to
this one. For, coming in to clean up after sparring, he'd
snuck a look inside the bentos that Kasumi had prepared.

In Ranma's perspective, any food not actually prepared by
Akane was good food. In that realm of low standards,
Kasumi's cooking reached a lofty pinnacle. Were she to set
half-rotted shark meat before him, Ranma would cheerfully
devour it, confident that it would be among the best meals
he had ever inhaled. However, even Kasumi had some dishes
she did better than others....

The first time Ranma had eaten Kasumi's vegetable tempura,
he had sworn that *this* was the reason he studied martial
arts: to make sure that no one, not even his fat, thieving
panda of a father, could steal this food away from him.

Ranma noticed a vaguely nervous and expectant expression on
Akane's face as she set his bento in front of him, but
thought little of it. Most of the Tendo family had a
similar look when the tempura was served for dinner, right
before they dove for cover.

From across the room, however, Ukyo immediately realized
that Akane, not Kasumi, had prepared the lunch in front of
Ranma. Pulling out her portable grill, she bustled over.
Ranchan would appreciate her okonomiyaki even more than
usual today, she thought happily. Trying to decide between
pork and shrimp, she failed to consider cow, in the form of
a leather bookbag lying in the aisle.

Breaking out his chopsticks, Ranma saw Ukyo disappear
between two desks out of the corner of his eye. Briefly
distracted from impending ecstasy, he stood up to look over.
"Ucchan?"

Her grill, freed from its mistress' grasp, descended from
the sky to strike a blow for the culinary arts everywhere.

Akane stared at the mangled ruins of her efforts seeping
across the desk. She had worked so hard on this, and was
convinced that this would be the meal that would finally
make Ranma admit she could cook. Now it was gone, destroyed
by that, that, *bimbo*! Ranma had probably arranged for it,
just to avoid eating her food! Akane was quite aware she
wasn't the best chef, but she tried, and this one would have
been okay, she knew it, but no, he just had to go get one of
his *girlfriends* to help humiliate her, and....

"Hey," Ranma barked.

And now would come the insults, when he'd open his mouth and
say exactly the wrong thing in front of everybody, and crush
her feelings, the insensitive jerk, and here it comes, just
like...

"I wanted ta eat that!"

No, not like that. Moron. Couldn't he even insult her
properly?

It took a few seconds for his words to kick down the doors of
Akane's insecurity fit. She gasped, "Really, Ranma?"

His irritation faded as he looked at Akane's desperately
hopeful face. "Uh, yeah. I mean, why not? Saw it this
mornin'. Looked good, smelled good." He scratched his
head.

Akane's heart soared. "Oh, Ranma...."

Sweating, Ranma tried to figure out current events in the
form of a short-haired ecstatic girl with a rapidly climbing
cute factor. His eyes widened as realization hit. Wait a
minute. Did... did Akane... did Akane like Kasumi's
vegetable tempura as much as he did?

Wow.

Ukyo rushed over. "Sorry, Ranchan! I tripped. Here, let
me make you some okonomiyaki to..." Her voice trailed off
as she forcibly ripped her grill from the bento shards, and
then she shrieked. "My grill! Look what that food did to
my grill!"

Ranma's head snapped around. Ucchan was his friend, sure,
and if that had been Akane's cooking, that comment would be
perfectly acceptable. No one, however, mocked Kasumi's
vegetable tempura while he still breathed. "Don't you dare
say nothin' bad about my lunch," he warned her, finger
raised.

Ukyo started back. "Um, sorry, sugar. But look at my
grill! It's been eaten almost clear through." Her
shoulders drooped. "I can't make anything on this."

Her obvious misery flustered Ranma. "Um, sorry ta hear
that." His stomach growled. "Real sorry."

A bento suddenly appeared, floating before his eyes. That's
funny, he thought, eyes glazing. Hunger hallucinations
don't usually start until the third day.

Nabiki stepped around him, still holding the lunch box out.
"Hungry, Ranma?" she smirked. She put her finger to her
chin thoughtfully, then grinned at him. "I suppose I could
sell my lunch to you, then buy something for myself. Shall
we say five thousand yen?"

Tearing his eyes from the little bundle of pleasure, Ranma
scowled at her, but they both knew the answer. It was
vegetable tempura. He would pay any price. The money was
thrust out at Nabiki.

Still looking each other in the eye, Ranma and Nabiki became
perfectly still. Everything was perfectly normal about this
transaction, except... the money wasn't coming from Ranma's
hand. They both regarded Ukyo incredulously.

"Here," she offered. "I ruined Ranchan's lunch, and my
grill's ruined, so I can't make up for it that way. I'll
pay."

Nabiki shrugged. "Fine by me." If she'd known Ukyo would
be paying, she would have charged more. Still, five
thousand was a pretty good return on a spare lunch she'd
grabbed off the kitchen counter. Speaking of which, time to
get her own from her locker. "See you guys later."

Watching Ranma tear into his lunch, Akane couldn't help
glowing. He might not have eaten her lunch, but he'd
*wanted* to.

The same sight couldn't but depress Ukyo. First Ranchan had
gotten inexplicably angry at her for rescuing him from
Akane's culinary experiment. Then her grill had been
ruined. Now she was out five thousand yen replacing his
lunch, and he hadn't even bothered to say, "thank you."

Ranma was in heaven. Not even disaster had managed to keep
his vegetable tempura away. What a great day.

* * *

Mousse's breath quickened. Vengeance was at hand! He
adjusted his path slightly and leapt into the air.
Descending from out of the sun, he pulled a massive
broadsword out of his sleeve. Or at least, someplace close
to his sleeve, though presumably much bigger.

"Saotome," he screamed, "prepare to suffer for daring to hurt
my Shampoo!"

With a final snarl, he lashed out with a sweeping overhead
strike, cleaving cleanly through Saotome. As Mouse landed
lightly on his feet, a spray burst from his fallen foe,
drenching him in....

Paper?

Mouse fumbled his glasses into place and watched the two
halves of the crimson mailbox fall apart. Oh well, he
thought, at least it wasn't another fire hydrant.

* * *

"And so, in this sentence, the subject is.... Wah! This
book is too big! Why is the book so big? My mangas are the
perfect size!"

English was not going well for Ranma. Normally, of course,
he could sleep through it. Unfortunately, between all the
extra sleep he'd managed to get this morning, and the fact
that he'd yet to have a fight beyond his abbreviated
sparring session this morning, he was currently wide awake.
Now he was faced with a problem: what, exactly, did one do
in class to stave off boredom?

He looked over at Akane, who was busy scribbling notes.
That's right, he realized. You pay attention.

"Right. So the subject is Marvin, which means... Marvin?
What a stupid name. Is there a picture of Marvin anywhere
in the book? I bet he looks really silly!"

His attention drifted out the window, and he stared at a
very unremarkable tree for a few minutes. Then he sighed.
The oak had failed to disgorge an army of stealthy ninja, or
transform into a humongous war machine, or even show signs
of becoming a tasteless cross-dresser. Oh well. No hope
for it.

He looked at the blackboard, and started writing things
down. Soon, he found himself enthralled. Not by the
English itself, of course, which he personally found
pointless and idiotic. Ms. Hinako, however, had the
attention span of a rabid hummingbird in a sugar factory.
Following her discontinuous chain of thought, discarding the
irrelevant bits, and writing it down in a coherent way
required a singleness of mental focus that reminded Ranma of
the Soul of Ice. It wasn't physical training, true, but it
was training none the less.

Anything Goes Martial Arts Note-Taking, he thought happily,
and went back to work.

* * *

Flitting from one end of the chalkboard to the other,
Ms. Hinako took a second to eye the pig-tailed boy near the
back of the class distrustfully. There was a stained desk
covered in wooden shards tucked semi-discreetly into the
corner of the room, which was a bad thing, because she'd
have to replace it at the end of the day, which meant that
she might miss Sailor Moon, and that was her favourite show,
except for the one about cooking desserts. The ruined desk
meant something had happened over the lunch break, something
more than people eating, that is, which is what she had
done, and what a yummy meal she'd had. And when things
happened, Ranma was usually to blame. So what was he up to?

On one hand, he was paying attention in class, which was
good. All students should pay attention in class, except a
few should misbehave, so she could drain them. Or if they
brought chocolate. Or a cute balloon. Did they make
chocolate balloons? Those would be wonderful!

On the other hand, this was Ranma Saotome. He never paid
attention in class. In fact, the last time she could
remember him looking at the blackboard had been last week,
right before the boy with the bandanna had burst right
through it. That had been fun! Not only did she get to
drain almost all of the class trying to calm things down,
but the bandanna boy had *lots* of candy in his backpack!
It was like going to a carnival, except there were no rides
and the leather smelled really bad! Well, some carnivals
smelled bad too. But candy never did!

Regretfully, she decided that declaring Ranma to be a
delinquent for simply paying attention in class would
probably set a bad precedent. She vowed to herself to pay
close attention, though. When his true delinquency came to
light, she'd be there, ready to stop it.

Then she was distracted.

* * *

Frustrated, Shampoo kicked the swing set, though not hard
enough to dent it. She looked around the park again. She'd
spent most of the day hunting for her husband, and still
hadn't found him. Obviously, the violent pretender had
taken her husband and hidden him well. She'd looked almost
everywhere, and still found no sign of him.

There was one avenue yet to be explored. Moodily scratching
at the ground with the shaft of her bonbori, Shampoo decided
that she probably should have gone there first. It was hard
to believe that her foe would show so little imagination,
though. She leapt onto the top of the jungle gym, to a
nearby tree, and then sped across town.

Racing over rooftops, she sighed. Beat people up until a
man beat her up, kiss the man, get married, have lots of
children, and then beat people up side by side with her
husband. A nice simple life. Was that too much to ask for?

Landing in front of her destination, she took a deep breath
and composed herself. I am an Amazon, she recited. I am a
warrior. I am fear and death incarnate. I am unstoppable.

Then, grinning brightly, she broke down the front wall of
the Tendo home. "Nihao! No ramen delivery this time. Am
looking for Airen!"

Half buried under dust and woodchips, Genma Saotome and Soun
Tendo stared at her inscrutably. Then, with great dignity,
the panda lifted a sign. 'He's not here right now.'

The Amazon's smile widened and fixed on Genma.
Instinctively, he looked around, but his cute l'il panda
tire was on the other side of the room. Damn.

Shampoo stepped closer. "When Shampoo comes in, Shampoo
looks around," she remarked conversationally. "Am seeing
Crying Man. Am seeing Panda Man. No see husband." Another
step. "So Shampoo already *know* husband not here."
Without moving her lips, she stopped smiling. "Panda Man
want to tell Shampoo something Shampoo *not* know?"

The threat was unnecessary. Genma had by now betrayed his
son so often that it was instinctive. The sign flipped
around in his hand. 'He's at school.'

The departed smile quality returned to Shampoo's bared
teeth. "Thank you!" she chirped. "Bye bye!"

Alone on the rooftops again, she let the wind wash the smile
away and replace it with a grimace. It had never occurred
to her that the savage homewrecker would haul Shampoo's
injured husband to school and risk the spatula-wielding
harlot's wrath. A whole day wasted for overestimating the
enemy's intelligence.

Still, she consoled herself, imagine how much slower things
would be going if Mousse was tagging along?

She wondered briefly at a geyser climbing into the sky
before flying on.

* * *

Mousse's robes dropped out of his beak as he sneezed. Why
couldn't they just paint the damn fire hydrants yellow?

* * *

Ukyo brooded at her desk. Things had not gone well, she was
forced to grudgingly admit. Ruining Ranchan's lunch, even
by accident, was a bad move. Not at all the act of a cute
fiancee, even if she didn't understand why he was so
vigorously defending a lunch made by Akane.

Oh sure, she'd paid to replace it. That didn't really
matter, though. The problem was that Ranchan didn't really
understand money. It went into his pocket, it left his
pocket, and that was really about it as far as he was
concerned. To him, the only real difference between five
and five thousand yen was that he was much more likely to
have five on him.

What Ranchan did understand was food, and the food had come
from Nabiki. That was what he would remember. Besides,
there was nothing cute about emptying your wallet.

Well, Ukyo wasn't about to lose, even over something as
trivial as this. She'd feed Ranchan dinner tonight, as an
apology. In fact -- she swallowed nervously for a second --
they wouldn't even eat at her restaurant. She'd close down
for the night, and she'd take him out to a nice place.
They'd have a quiet evening eating some quality food.
Almost like... a date.

The queasiness at losing a night's business faded at that
thought. This was a godsend, really. Ukyo and Ranchan,
spending the night on a date, with a perfectly acceptable
excuse, so Ranchan wouldn't have to feel any remorse about
that stupid arrangement with the Tendos. Dreams about
pleasant conversation over sushi quickly escalated into
full-blown fantasies of little pig-tailed children running
around the family restaurant.

"Oh, yes," she whispered, "tonight, Ranchan, you will be
mine!"

"What was that, Miss Kuonji?"

Panicked, Ukyo's attention snapped back to reality.
"Nothing, Miss Hinako," she stuttered. "I was, uh, just
thinking about my, uh, new recipe for... for chocolate
okonomiyaki!"

In a flash, Miss Hinako replaced Ukyo's desk, which landed
on some unfortunate two rows back. "Chocolate...
okonomiyaki?" she quivered.

Relaxing, Ukyo nodded. "Sure thing. Want me to get my
spare grill from my locker?"

* * *

Anything Goes Martial Arts Note-Taking wasn't a challenge
when the teacher could keep on topic for more than two
minutes at a time. So now Ranma was writing by tapping his
pencil at the page, creating strokes made up of dozens of
minuscule dots. Since he wasn't allowing himself to make
any noise, it made great control training as well as speed
conditioning.

He'd never realized how much fun school could be if you put
a little work into it.

He absently paused to let his desk settle after an explosion
rocked the school. Geez, that was what, the sixth one
today? He shook his head. At least it ain't happening to
me.

* * *

Drenched, Kuno glared at the remains of the stall. The
gushing hulk of the toilet had washed off the worst of the
pineapple juice, but he was uninclined to be charitable
about his circumstances. The principal had sentenced him to
clean the bathrooms as punishment for being late, vowing to
send the vile Ranma Saotome to join him in the hellish
labour. The entirety of the day had passed, however, and
Kuno had yet to see opportunity to wreak his vengeance.

"Enough with this!" he roared, throwing his mop to one side.
"The righteous quest bestowed to me by Heaven has been
stayed long enough. I must be off, for, yea, the heavens do
weep and inundate me in their sorrows, and their tears shall
not cease until such time as the pig-tailed goddess is freed
to profess her love and adoration for the paragon of
manliness that is the Blue Thunder of Furinkan High!"

Producing a bokken, he went for the door. Catching a
glimpse of his waterlogged visage in the mirror, he slid to
a stop and preened briefly.

The mirror fell off the wall, to release another wave of
water that bowled Kuno over. He struggled to his feet just
as the principal stepped off his surfboard. "'Ey, now,
Tacchi," he growled, hair clippers at the ready, "ain't no
bad keiki goin' nowhere till they finish cleanin' da
toilets!"

"Abomination of a father," Kuno spat, "you will not be the
one to stop me!"

Father and son circled each other warily. At an unspoken
agreement, they charged each other, shears and bokken
blurring. It was a battle that Jubei Yagyu would have
cheered for, which could have impressed Musashi Miyamoto,
that would bring a tear to the eye of Lancelot du Lac.

For before they made contact, the four remaining pineapple
bombs in the toilets went off, and even dead swordsmen don't
like the Kunos.

Spluttering, Kuno pushed himself up against the wall. He
had been blown out of the bathroom and into the hallway,
which took a few moments to sink in. When it did, he fell
back to his knees.

"Truly, this is a sign!" he wept. "For the tears of heaven
have become a fearsome tsunami, which drives me towards my
noble goal!" Surging to his feet, he proclaimed, "Fear not,
my pig-tailed glory! Your emancipation is at hand!"

He sprinted down the hall, in search of the vile sorcerer.

Behind him, in the bathroom, the rubble shifted. The
principal sat up, ceramic dust obscuring the loud print of
his shirt, and pushed his sunglasses up his nose with a
furiously trembling finger.

"Ooo, Tacchi," he hissed, "you one *bad* keiki."

* * *

Bustling through her home economics class, Akane felt like
singing. Ranma had liked her lunch! He liked the way it
looked, he liked the way it smelled, he had wanted to eat
it! She reddened slightly at the memory. It was quite
arguably the nicest thing he had ever said to her.

There was only one way to show her appreciation. *These*
cookies were going to be perfect.

The screams of her classmates returned her attention to the
here and now. "Stupid defective ovens," she muttered to
herself as she beat out the flames.

* * *

The bell rang out the end of school, and Ranma relaxedly
arched over the back of the chair. The point-writing drill
had been tiring, especially when he started doing it
two-handed. Definitely good training, though. Between that
and his morning nap, he hadn't had so much fun at school for
weeks.

"Actually," he said out loud, "this has been a pretty good
day all round." Then he stiffened, and sweat began to bead
on his forehead.

Off in the distance, a muffled explosion shook the building,
followed by another, and then a third, each closer than the
other.

A tic spasmed under Ranma's eye, as his muscles desperately
prepared for an escape attempt. But which way to flee?

Then the chalkboard caved in, and it was too late. From
behind the curtain of dust resounded a familiar cry.
"Airen!"

Still paralyzed by fear, Ranma had no chance of evading
Shampoo's diving glomp. "Oh, Airen! Shampoo so worried.
Airen okay?" Defying a few laws of physics to snuggle even
closer, she pouted up at him. "Airen very bad boy to worry
wife. Take wife out on date to say sorry, yes?"

Ranma wondered if you could suffer rigor mortis while still
alive. Maybe he could just die. It would probably be less
painful.

"Oh, no, you don't!" Ukyo had intended to approach Ranchan
cautiously, set it up in front of everyone as a 'two buddies
night out' thing, but the Chinese bimbo had forced her hand.
"Ranchan's going on a date with me, so I can apologize for
ruining his lunch! Right, Ranchan?" She scraped up every
erg of cuteness in her soul and poured it into one dazzling
smile.

Kuno skidded into the room, dripping wet. "Saotome, you
cur!" he yelled. "You take a respite from your sacrilegious
torments of the majestic pig-tailed goddess to seduce more
fair maidens with your wizardly charms! No more! For the
gods have sent me on a mission of mercy, and blessed me with
their holy waters! Today, you fall!"

He should move, he should say something, Ranma knew. Too
bad his body wasn't cooperating. Had Kodachi already
stopped by?

Out of the book closet popped the principal, on whom water
and dust were combining to form a rapidly-hardening plaster
armour. His sunglasses glinted as he took in the scene. He
had been in hard pursuit of his disobedient son, but this
was too good a cocoanut to pass over. "Makin' out on school
property is against the rules," he gleefully exclaimed, "and
keiki breakin' the rules is a *bad* keiki!"

Beside Ranma's ear, the window burst open. Landing among
the tinkling shards of glass, Mousse rose from his crouch,
pointed dramatically at Ranma, and opened his mouth. He
then closed it, peered closely, and asked in a worried tone
of voice, "Are you a fire hydrant?"

That shut even Kuno up.

"What?" Mentally, Ranma slapped himself. Of all times for
his voice to come back....

Relief was quickly chased off Mousse's face by righteous
anger. "Ranma Saotome," he bellowed, "for hurting my
Shampoo, you will die!"

Ranma threw himself into a sideways roll to dodge the axe
that swept through his desk. Unfortunately, since Shampoo
refused to let go of his neck, the maneuver didn't quite go
as planned, and he ended up sprawled out on top of the
undeniably buxom Amazon.

"Oh, Airen," she cooed, inhaling sharply.

Aw, shit. Ranma closed his eyes and began a mental
countdown to the inevitable. Three, two, one....

"RANMA!"

There we go. He looked over at the door to see Akane
angrily fighting back tears, holding a plate
of... something. At least it wasn't moving, though it was
smoking a bit.

"How *could* you? And after I made cookies just for you!
You jerk!" She huffed, and turned her back.

"No, wait, Akane! It's not what it looks like!" Ranma
alternated between vigorous denials and desperately trying
to worm free of the Amazon's embrace. Neither worked.

"Fear, not Akane Tendo! I shall heal your heart by teaching
you the true paths of romance! Date with me!"

"Get your hands off my Ranchan, bimbo!"

"Bad keiki gettin' a haircut, yeah!"

"Spatula Girl not getting Airen! Want fight?"

"Do not ignore me, Saotome! I shall prove my love for
Shampoo on your body!"

"DELINQUENTS!"

"Mousse shut up!"

"Back off, Kuno!"

"Go back to China!"

"SAOTOME!"

"Good girl exercise number one!"

Ranma whimpered. It had been such a *fine* day.

~~~The End~~~