Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Fugue ❯ Chapter 7

Ranma stared at the small silver box sitting on the counter before him. It was maybe ten centimeters long by five centimeters wide by about a centimeter high and bore an engraving of a leaping deer. One of the long edges was hinged and the other had a small button which presumably released the lid.

“What is it?” he asked, looking up at the man on the other side of the counter.

In answer, the man pressed the button with a finger, causing the lid to flip up to reveal a dozen small, translucent green spheres resting on a bed of black velvet. “This, my friend,” he said softly, “is the answer to your problem. Smart pills—just one will make you the mental equal of Miss Tendou.”

Ranma leaned in close and stared at the pills. The were each about four millimeters in diameter, and frankly, looked like candy more than anything else to him. “How much?” he asked. “And how long do they last?”

“As a special price for your first purchase, four thousand yen per pill, and each one is guaranteed to last for a minimum of two days.”

Ranma looked at the man in surprise; that price just might be within his means. Indeed, a brief search of his pockets turned up the amount with two hundred fifty yen to spare—the last of the money he'd gone out of his way to earn for Nabiki when he thought she'd be using it for her family. He put the money on the counter. The man punched the amount into the antique brass cash register and put the money away before extracting a single pill from the box with a pair of silver tweezers and placing it on a piece of tissue paper before his customer.

“So... I just swallow it?” asked Ranma as he studied the pill with a bit of apprehension. Was he really sure this was a good idea? Maybe it wasn't, but he was pretty sure he'd never figure out what Nabiki was up to, otherwise.

“Yes, though it's very important that you think of Miss Tendou when you do so. Let me get you a glass of water.”

“Nah—I ain't no wimp,” snorted Ranma, and in a show of bravado snatched the pill and tossed it down his throat while thinking of Nabiki. “So, how long does it take—” His question went unfinished as he closed his eyes and leaned on the counter in response to the whirlwind that suddenly tore through his mind. It seemed to last for hours, and all he could do was desperately try to hold himself together.

Finally, his mind slowly began to clear, and he could only marvel at the difference—thoughts seemed to streak across his brain like lightning, with half of them splitting off new lightning bolts of thought. It felt wonderful! Almost disdainfully, he asked himself what eighteen times sixteen was. Two hundred eighty eight. Why did Akane pound him whenever he was grabbed by a girl? Probably because hitting the girl would make it seem like she was defending her man from a rival, and she couldn't bear for people to think she really wanted him. What was Nabiki doing with the money she earned? Probably buying stuff here, if they sold stuff like smart pills. With a smile, he opened his eyes.

“This is amazing! I never realized...” He trailed off as the sound of his voice reached his ears. Something was very wrong; he looked down at himself. Herself. But not his cursed form and not the clothes he'd been wearing. With a feeling of dread, she ran to the large mirror hanging on the wall nearby and stared at her reflection. A young Nabiki in an unfamiliar school uniform stared back.

“What the hell have you done to me, old man?!”

“Please relax, Mister Saotome, it's simply a side effect of the pill.”

“Side effect?! I'm Nabiki!” shrieked Ranma, still staring into the mirror. “And I'm twelve!” Whirling to the man, she demanded, “How long will it last?”

“Ah, well I'm afraid side effects of this nature tend to be permanent, though you should grow out of the age change, in time.”

Ranma clenched her fists and, taking a threatening step toward the man, growled, “You'd better find a way to make it unpermanent or I swear, I'll..." Suddenly she stopped, with an expression of horror on her face. It was gone: all of the skill, knowledge, and instinct related to fighting was completely absent. The subtle changes in stance and balance that should have come automatically to her when she considered attacking, didn't. She couldn't even remember exactly what should have happened. When she desperately tried to recall specific moves and techniques, her mind just couldn't find anything to focus upon.

A polite cough caught her attention. “I did say that Miss Tendou's intellect was superior in all respects except those pertaining to the martial arts. But don't despair; your transformation can be reversed.

Ranma let out a long breath and tried to relax. “Ok, old man, reverse it then.”

“Well, there are some difficulties involved, I'm afraid. Apparently, much of Miss Tendou's mental prowess is a direct consequence of her experiences—that's the reason for your current age: the pill transformed your body to one ideally suited to gaining the experience you need to become her intellectual equal. Until you gain that experience, however, the pill's task is not completed, and it will resist any efforts to reverse its effects. In addition, even before taking that into account, the components required to fashion a counter to the pill's effects are quite rare, so I'm afraid I'd have to charge you somewhat more for this product.”

“How much?” asked Ranma as she walked back to the counter.

“Fifteen million yen. Mister Saotome? Mister Saotome? Are you all right? Perhaps I should get you that water now!”

As the man walked a short distance to a desk bearing a pitcher of water, Ranma clutched the counter and tried to get her breathing under control. Fifteen million yen! She'd never be able to get that much money! Maybe when she'd been in her own body she could have hit a bank or something, but now? Wait! Mr. Tendou was loaded—all she had to do was convince him to give her the money to change back! She'd probably have to promise to do everything in her power to make a successful wedding possible, but that would be a small price to pay. As the man returned with the water, she straightened up, much calmer.

“Here, drink this,” he said, presenting a glass. With a nod, Ranma took a sip, then experimentally splashed a bit on herself, noting that no transformation resulted. As if reading her thoughts, the man said, “Hot water won't have an effect, either; the curse is tied only to your original body.”

“Nice... say, once I get changed back, do you think you'd be able to get rid of my curse—without turning me into someone else?”

“Perhaps, but I'm afraid we have a problem. As I said, the pill will resist any attempts to undo its effects until you've acquired experience comparable to Miss Tendou's; the further you are from this goal, the stronger the resistance will be. I'm sorry to say that until you've attained at least three years worth of experience, the pill's power will be too strong to overcome.”

Ranma paled. Asking Mr. Tendou for fifteen million yen so she could get changed back and try to settle the problems keeping her and Akane apart was one thing. Asking for the same amount to get changed back three years down the road was another matter entirely. Of course, considering the man's mental state, it was quite possible that he might not be willing to give up a second Nabiki after having her around for a few years, too.

“To make matters worse,” continued the man, interrupting Ranma's thoughts, “as I said earlier, I'll be closing shop within the week and expect to be inaccessible from that point. Fortunately, I believe I have a solution which addresses all of these problems.”

Putting her new mind to good use, Ranma offered, “You're going to make the antidote now and let me pay you when you get back?”

“No, no... the 'antidote' as you call it wouldn't have a shelf life of more than a week, and I deal on a strictly cash on delivery basis. No, Mister Saotome, I will—free of charge—arrange things so you will have an opportunity to amass the full five years' experience along with my fee before the week is up.”

“Aw, come on, old man—to do that, you'd have to send me back in time or some... thing...” She trailed off and looked down at her twelve year old self, complete in school uniform. She looked up at the man, who just smiled at her. “Don't be ridiculous! What would I say—that I'm Nabiki's long-lost twin sister? And, anyway, I don't recall there being two Nabikis... hey does that mean if I go along with this, I get cured before I ever get here from China?”

“No, so far as I can tell, there's only ever been one Tendou Nabiki in the past (excepting the past five minutes).”

Ranma frowned. What did that mean—that she didn't go back into the past? If the old man knew that already, then why bother suggesting the idea in the first place? But if she did go back, the only way there wouldn't be two Nabikis was if there wasn't one to begin with. No, wait—that didn't work (thank God). “If you're trying to say that I am Nabiki, that doesn't make any sense; I look twelve now, and she's been part of her family all her life—I've seen pictures.”

“Yes and no,” the man said, stroking his beard. “When I say I'll send you into the past, I don't mean that I intend to hurl you back in time; I take more pride than that in my work. What I would do is insert you into the past. Hm... how to explain? Ah, consider reality to be a tapestry, with each person being one of its threads. When a person is born, where his thread is placed determines who he lives his life as. When I insert you into the past, I will cut your thread and put the remainder where it would have been if you had been born the second daughter of the Tendou family. Since I am actually weaving you into the tapestry in such a way, it will be as if you had always been there as Miss Tendou.”

Ranma stared into space for a moment, a stunned look on her face, then exclaimed, “I don't believe it!”

“Well, I admit it's a rather simplistic explanation, but I assure you, so far as it goes, it's the truth.”

“No, no,” said Ranma, waving her hand, “I don't believe I followed all that! So, you're saying that there wasn't originally a Tendou Nabiki at all, but if you insert me into the past, it will change reality to what it would have been at that point if she'd been there all along. Does that mean if you took my entire thread, instead of just part of it, to put in Nabiki's spot it would make it seem like Ranma had never existed?”

“Yes, exactly! I must admit, I am very impressed with your reasoning, Miss Tendou.”

With a slight blush, Ranma said, “Aw, it wasn't that—what did you call me?” She sighed. “Never mind; if I go through with this I guess I'll need to get used to it. So, will I remember that I'm not Nabiki? If so, will I also remember what she would know? And what if I change the past: what if I make it so I never come here?” Ranma had to admit she was really starting to like having a supercharged brain; her old self wouldn't have thought of these questions until after the fact, if even then.

The man nodded in appreciation of the questions and answered, “You will remember both your past experiences and the events of young Miss Tendou's life, though the latter won't feel as real to you. As for changing the course of history, yes it is possible, but your own personal history will not change, so if you prevent Mister Saotome from coming here, there will be two of you running around. My own relationship with time is also unusual, so rest assured, I will still know to restore you, no matter how much things change.”

Ranma shuddered at the man's words—even she had no desire to be in a Nerima (or world) with two Ranmas. Clearing her head of that image, she crossed her arms and carefully considered the situation and whether there were any better solutions. After a few minutes, she shook her head and sighed deeply. “Do I even have a choice? Doesn't the fact that there is a Nabiki mean that I've already gone back?”

Fixing her with an intent gaze, the man firmly stated, “You always have a choice. All Miss Tendou's existence proves is that someone, some day, will travel back in time and take up her life; it doesn't have to be you.”

Reassured somewhat, Ranma went back to searching for a better solution. She couldn't think of any, but as another realization struck her, she shook her head and smiled wryly. “I guess now I know why Nabiki was always so hard on me in particular—I was the only person she didn't have to feel guilty about using.” Focusing her gaze back on the man, she gave a determined nod and said, “Ok, let's get this over with.”

“Very well. Follow me, please,” the man said as he walked to a door in the shop's back wall. With a few whispered words, he opened it, revealing a street beneath a gray sky that was spraying a fine mist of rain. As Ranma approached, she recognized the area as a spot not too far from the Tendou home. Taking a deep breath, she braced herself and prepared to walk through, only to be brought up short by a call from the man.

“Miss Tendou—don't forget your book bag.”

She looked where he was pointing and saw a bag that she was sure hadn't been there a moment ago leaning against the door frame. Giving him a dark look, she snatched it up, and just before walking through the door, turned fully to him and growled, “You just get working on that antidote, 'cause you can be sure I'll be back with your damned money, old man.”

“With that attitude, Miss Tendou, I will be very surprised if you aren't,” he replied as he closed the door behind the girl.

“You and me both, old man,” drawled a seventeen year old Nabiki as she walked through the beaded curtain and into the room.