Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Fugue ❯ Chapter 6

“You're not concentrating, boy!” roared Genma as he let a punch slide by and grabbed the fabric of his son's gi in preparation of throwing him into the koi pond. Unfortunately, pausing for commentary proved even more detrimental than a lack of concentration, and before he could complete his throw, Ranma hopped into the air, planted his feet against his father's chest, and kicked off with a mighty thrust, hurling Genma across the yard and into one of the still-standing walls of the dojo with a resounding crash.

After flipping in midair to lightly land in a crouch, Ranma called, “What'd you say, pop? I wasn't paying attention.” When his father just slid to the ground with a groan, he decided the morning sparring session was over and went to get cleaned up for breakfast.

In the furo, Ranma once again considered the question that had been troubling him while sparring: where was Ryouga? Now, it was true Ryouga's sense of direction was horrible, but if Nabiki had brought him home, he should have been able to change back and eventually stumble across some member of the household. If Nabiki had brought him back. What was bothering Ranma was that neither she nor Akane had made any mention of P-chan yesterday or that morning. Maybe something had happened to the pig and Nabiki just decided to keep quiet about it.

Ranma snorted. As if Ryouga were that easy to hurt, even in pig form. Nah, knowing him, it was probably something stupid, like getting locked in Nabiki's book bag and being stuck there all night. Ranma chuckled at the thought, then frowned as he considered it more seriously. “Aw, crap,” he groaned as he climbed out of the tub and grabbed a towel.

*

Ranma mentally cursed himself as he shoveled food into his mouth while simultaneously rebuffing his father's numerous assaults on his breakfast. If he'd been smart enough to figure out the mystery of Ryouga's disappearance faster, he could have easily searched Nabiki's book bag before breakfast. As it was, Kasumi's call to the table had come just as he'd finished dressing, and even he knew that if he were late for breakfast, everyone would immediately wonder what he was up to. Sheesh, just because a guy has a healthy appetite... So, now he was reduced to carefully watching Nabiki's bag and trying to figure out what to do if it looked like pig-boy was still inside. He could, of course, just snatch her bag and open it, but he didn't think even Kunou was crazy enough to invoke Nabiki's wrath in such a manner. No, he'd watch how she carried the bag and use his superior martial artist understanding of motion and balance to determine if a pig-headed, well, pig was inside. If there was, he'd claim to hear squealing coming from it. Perfect! A foolproof plan. Oops, she was getting up: time to watch very carefully...

“Ranma! Quit ogling my sister!” cried Akane as she smacked him on the head. Ok, foolproof was one thing, but apparently Akane-proof was another.

As she walked to the door, Nabiki tsked and called over her shoulder, “Gee, Ranma, I would have thought you'd learn after I warned you about that when you were staring at me in my bed the other day.” Make that Tendou-proof in general.

Ranma quickly turned to Akane in a futile attempt to explain himself but was thrown across the room by a vicious punch before he could get more than two words out of his mouth. As he lay in a crumpled heap in the corner, he was vaguely aware of her angrily shouting something before storming off. Stupid tomboy. Stupid Nabiki. That last thought reminded him of the task at hand, and he quickly looked around for the middle Tendou sister. He spotted her walking through the door, and after an moment of intense scrutiny, cursed as it became obvious that her book bag was far too light to be holding books, much less P-chan. Wait a second—why would she be going to school with no books? She was up to something! Intent on discovering Nabiki's secrets, Ranma jumped up and ran after her, ignoring his father's demands that he come back and apologize to his fiancée.

Once outside, he quickly ducked behind a bush and observed his quarry. So far, she wasn't doing anything unusual—just walking along like any other morning. He darted to another bush and carefully peered around it. Nabiki walked on with no sign that she was aware of being followed, and Ranma relaxed a bit; she probably figured she had several minutes before he even left the house. Carefully following her down a few blocks, he started to wonder if he was going to end up simply tailing her to school, but a moment later his concern vanished when she turned the next corner and started walking down a road that definitely wasn't on her normal route. Dashing to his next hiding spot, Ranma started to smirk: Nabiki hadn't even looked back the way she'd come once, and since this was a residential area, there weren't even any reflecting storefront windows to give him away this time. This was going to be a piece of cake. And that's what Ranma was thinking as Nabiki got into a taxi waiting at the curb and rode off.

*

Ranma stood on the rooftop, bent over with his hands on his thighs, gasping for breath. He'd done it; he'd managed, barely, to keep up with Nabiki's taxi. It had been close, though—very close—if the cab had made one more traffic light he would have lost it. As he caught his breath, he looked around to take stock of his surroundings. From the appearance of the streets and buildings around him, he could tell he was in Nerima's business district. The building directly across the street, which Nabiki had entered, was a bank. He briefly considered going in after her but quickly decided against it: the people who worked in banks got awfully nervous about people who came in and tried to quietly snoop around. When you came down to it, they tended to get twitchy about people on their roof, too. He supposed it was understandable.

Well, if he couldn't go in after her, he'd just have to follow her again once she came out. With a grimace, he noticed the cab Nabiki had taken was waiting down the block, which probably meant she was going to be getting back in it once she came out of the bank. That could be a real problem if her next stop was far away or on a route whose path didn't give him enough of an advantage to keep up by roof-hopping. Maybe he should find a taxi of his own and tell the driver to follow Nabiki's cab (and step on it!). He could just sit back and relax in an air conditioned car instead of running himself ragged. Right, who was he kidding? Telling a cab driver to follow someone who'd just come out of a bank would be likelier to get him a free ride to the nearest police station. Oh well, he'd just have to do it the hard way. It was what he was used to, anyway.

After several minutes, Nabiki came out of the bank and headed for her taxi. Ranma felt a surge of excitement as he noticed that her book bag looked considerably heavier than it had before. Putting that aside for the moment, he decided he'd better get as much of a head start on the cab as he could and jogged ahead to the end of the block as Nabiki got into the car. When the taxi immediately made an illegal U-turn and headed down to the opposite end of the block, Ranma just sighed and wondered why he could never get a break.

Five minutes later, as the cab pulled over after a leisurely ten blocks of slow traffic and red lights, Ranma was forced to admit that maybe he had been whining a bit... He looked down from his hiding spot on a rooftop and watched Nabiki step out of the taxi, which drove off, and walk up to the door of the small building in front of her. She paused to take a deep breath before opening the door and walking in.

Ranma frowned as he studied the building Nabiki had entered. It was a small one story structure that was made of bright red bricks, or at least faced with them. Strangely enough, there were no windows on the front of the building—only the single door. The sides were also free of windows, as there was no space between them and the taller buildings to either side. “Weird...” he muttered before jumping to the building's roof and jogging across it to check out the back of the place. At the far end of the roof, he just stared at the looming wall of the building behind the one upon which he stood: not a millimeter of space separated the two structures. Turning around, he noticed something else that bothered him—the roof was completely flat and featureless; not a vent, skylight, nor air conditioning unit marred it. “What the hell kind of building is this?” he asked aloud. Shaking his head, he went back to the front of the building and dropped to the sidewalk below, where he approached the door.

The building's single door was made of a dark wood and looked rather heavy. It was decorated with a pattern of raised squares about a foot across, each, and sported a curved brass handle above which a thumb lever and keyhole sat. Other than that, there were no markings or adornments: no knocker or bell, no plaque describing the building's purpose, and no peephole. All in all, it looked like it would be more at home at the entrance to a fancy Western-style house. “Well, no turning back now,” said Ranma, and preparing himself for anything, opened the door and stepped through.

*

Ranma looked around the large room in which he stood. He'd been ready for a forbidden temple, or a stairway leading down into the secret depths beneath Tokyo, or a secret gambling parlor, or maybe even some sort of high tech complex... An antique shop just wasn't a possibility that had crossed his mind. Oh, it was a very nice one, with lots of stuff—just glancing around, he could see several large, ornate mirrors with gilded frames; a phonograph, complete with brass horn; an old-fashioned bicycle with an oversized front wheel; a couple of suits of armor; kimonos; statues; several different types of dolls; and various pieces of furniture. All of it was in excellent condition, too: wood was rich and lustrous, metal gleamed and sparkled. Still, he couldn't imagine what Nabiki would be doing here. With a slight frown, he walked further into the room.

“Ah, Mister Saotome—how good to finally meet you! I was afraid you wouldn't find your way here before I closed shop this week. Please, do come in,” cried an aged man as he stepped from behind an armoire and noticed Ranma, who took a moment to quickly size him up. He was a Westerner of some sort, pudgy and a bit short (for a Westerner), with unkempt thinning white hair and a wispy beard, and appeared to be around sixty. Not a fighter. He wore brown shoes, blue slacks, a white dress shirt, and a silver vest. As he walked toward Ranma with an affable smile on his face, he added, “I'm afraid you just missed Miss Tendou, but you're more than welcome to look around.”

“What?! No way—I just came in the only door, and there's no way she had time to get out without me seeing her!”

“Only door?” queried the man as he headed to a counter with an old brass cash register, beckoning Ranma to join him. “Oh, not at all—that's simply the only one that leads directly to the street.”

Ranma followed the man and resisted the urge to bang his head against the counter at once again being outmaneuvered. “Look, can you tell me where she went?” he asked. “It's important.”

“I'm sorry—I really would like to help you,” said the man as he took a seat behind the counter, “but I simply can't go around revealing my customers' secrets. The people I do business with tend to be very private.”

Ranma sighed. “It's ok... I understand.” He looked around the shop, noticing a few doorways, most occupied by closed doors but one by a beaded curtain, in addition to the one by which he'd entered. “I guess I'll be going,” he said, and after a pause for another casual glance around, he pointedly (though he was trying for nonchalance) asked, “Any particular door I should take?”

The man chuckled and shook his head. “I really can't help you like that, Mister Saotome. However...” he said, while stroking his beard thoughtfully, “there's no reason I can't give you some free advice.”

“Free advice?” echoed Ranma, somewhat confused about how that would help.

“Oh, yes. I'm rather familiar with the unique relationship between you and Miss Tendou—would you like a chair, by the way? No? Very well—as I was saying: if you like, I may be able to offer some insight which could help you in your 'endeavors'.”

“Uh, sure. Thanks,” said Ranma, only slightly less confused now.

The man nodded. “Now, from what I know of your situation, your primary obstacle is quite simple: with the exception of matters dealing with the martial arts, Miss Tendou is far more intelligent than you.” Ranma started to protest, but subsided as he was forced to admit the guy had a point. Not seeming to notice the near-interruption, the man continued, “Unfortunately for you, this allows her to quickly and accurately evaluate situations from very few clues, predict the actions of people around her, and devise plans that allow her to manipulate others with a high degree of success. This is obviously a great advantage in her favor, but fortunately, the essence of your response is clear.”

“It is?” asked Ranma, who'd been having enough trouble just trying to keep up with the man's elaborate speech.

“Oh, yes. Just as in the martial arts, when an adversary surpasses you in a certain area, you either fight him in a manner which negates that particular advantage—such as fighting a faster opponent in a mud pit—or take measures to improve yourself so as to remove the disparity.”

“Ok, I think I got the first part: yeah, that makes sense, but you lost me after that.”

“To put it simply, if your adversary is faster than you, you improve your own speed until you are just as fast. In your case, since Miss Tendou is more intelligent, you would need to become as smart as she.”

Ranma snorted. “Like that's going to happen.”

“It could...” said the man as he gave Ranma a long, considering look, then reached under the counter to pull out a small, silver box.