Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ The Butterfly Effect ❯ t.he good, the bad, and the giant mocha freeze [2] ( Chapter 7 )

A/N: I think my prereader went on vacation. Or he's not talking to me. Or something. Eep.

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[1.6b]
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Few things brought joy to his life. One of them was the Art, the other, food. Ranchan, love the guy, had never been complicated. That being said, nothing was quite as disenheartening to Ukyo as the sight of him slumped at the counter, picking disconsolately the okonomiyaki in front him.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, after nearly being bowled over as he bounced randomly from fence to rooftop like a rubber ball on amphetamines. She'd taken one look at him and promptly dragged him back to her restaurant, determined to wipe the anvil-cloud of gloom from his face.

Food would cheer him up. Food always cheered him up. Especially her food.

Food would alleviate her guilt.

However, seeing him here, now, caught up in the grip of something that even her famous cooking couldn't possibly hope to mitigate, brought all of her fears, everything that she'd dreaded to the foreground. Did he hate her so much now that he couldn't even bear the sight of her cooking?

"Ranchan--I--" she began. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. You know that, don't you? I'd never hurt you or, or even her. A thousand apologies, a thousand excuses formed in her head. Each one of them stuck in her throat.

"Do--do you think it would have been better if--" Ranma's voice sounded tinny, almost tired as the chopsticks tracing endless figure-eight patterns over his plate. "If you never knew me?"

If she'd never known Ranma.

Well, that would have been simple, wouldn't it? Ukyo pictured her life, and the possibilities that resided within, had her father never crossed paths with a wayward fraud of a martial artist and his son.

Happy. Growing up a normal girl, quietly in Kansai, helping her father at his yatai. Then, one day she would have met him, the boy tied the other end of the long, red thread. Perhaps it would be that smile, or even a certain look that would cause her heart to suddenly flutter as she unconsciously painted a big heart onto his ebi-tamayaki. Their fingers would 'accidentally' brush as she handed him his order, and in his eyes, she would see something more. Something shy and starry-eyed. Something passionate. Perhaps the promise of a future.

No broken engagement. No honor and dowry lost along with eleven of the longest years of her life.

If she'd never known him.

She smiled. "Of course not, sweetie."

"Thanks Ucchan. Nice 'ta know somebody don't think I'm nuthin' but a . . . a . . . "

Ucchan . . .

Functions 'Guilt' and 'Self-recrimination' were booted offline in pre-programmed override as a familiar subroutine spun into action in her brain's CPU. Processes mental and otherwise worked furiously overtime, calculating and recalculating the specific import of her fiance's every word and inflection.

Private Sub WhosYourCuteIinazuke()
Dim Ranchan;
IF {
Ranchan NOT = like being in Nerima;
OR
Ranchan NOT = want to live at the Tendo Dojo;
AND
Ranchan + Akane == problems? (Error==1130);
}
then (explosive okonomiyaki == OK);
ELSE {
Ranchan NOT = unhappy;
AND
Ranchan NOT = confiding in her;
}
1130="Uncute fiancee";

RESULT == Ranchan&&Ucchan;
END IF
END Sub

Of course, any good debugger would have instantly spotted one or two errors in the logic, but, really, who wrote perfect code? Bugs? No such things as bugs. Merely unimplemented features. And mighty cute features they were, buster, so don't be talking about any errors to this okonomiyaki chef, hear?

And really, outside of the very, very rare bout of homicidal mania (who hasn't had one or two of those?) Ukyo Kuonji had been functioning perfectly fine with this particular design for a good seventeen years with few ill effects. After all, it is entirely possible to survive, flourish and even thrive in a prosperous life with slightly flawed programming.

Just look at Windows.

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"Nabiki Tendo," the Amazon male droned unenthusiastically at the figure before him. "According to Joket--jo--" A deep, wavery sigh. "According to Joketsuzoku law, you have defeated me, and thus hold all claims to the rights of marriage. Let us now seal the bonds with a -a-a- . . . k--kiss. Wife." At the last word, his eyes snapped shut and a shudder ran through his form. Suddenly they flew open again, outrage burning in their irises. "Though you may have defeated me through vile and deceptive means, my heart shall always belong to another! So conquer, ravage, use my body for whatever illicit purposes you have in mind, but mark this -- you shall never, NEVER possess my soul!" He then paused in the middle of his tirade with a frown. The Tendo girl seemed to have gotten taller.

"Wow," a voice finally blew out from behind him. "And I thought Ranma had a world-class ego."

Snatching the glasses down from atop his head, he peered at the hat and coat hanging off the rack before him. A self-conscious moment passed before he whipped around to the girl at her desk who was watching him with a look of beetle-browed, slighty agape incredulousness stapled to her face.

"While I'm sure my coat rack will be crying itself to sleep for weeks on end," Nabiki drawled, smoothing out the three hairs that had sprung out on the back of her head during the Amazon's rant. "I wouldn't flatter yourself too much, Silky. Cologne asked me to do this."

His upper lip curled in outrage. "I KNEW that dried up old monkey was behind this somehow."

"Au contraire. The Matriarch and I had a little chat. She obviously doesn't completely discount you as husband material for Shampoo." Off his nonplused expression, she shrugged. "Hey, I don't know what she sees in you either, but apparently you have more redeeming qualities than the other guy."

"Baboons have more redeeming qualities than Saotome."

"I wouldn't call you a baboon. You're at least a chimp, Mousseolini."

" . . . I really don't like that one either."

"I'm running out of options here, Mister Moussetoffeles."

A large bead of sweat hung off the Amazon's forehead like the sword of Damocles. "Can we just go back to the first one?"

"I knew you'd see it my way, Moussie-chan."

"Why are you doing this to me?" came the broken whisper as he slumped against the doorframe, shoulders sagging, wringing his hands in agitation. Then, a votive candle lit into position above his head (and just as quickly piffled out), and he pointed at her with an accusatory shaking finger. "Oh! OH! I know! Revenge! You're mad because I won the last game using the Saavedra position, isn't it?" Abandoning all pretense of dignity, the Chinese boy fell to his knees, sniveling in supplication. "IswearIswearIswear I won't do it again!"

Nabiki's palm bounced off her forehead. "Will you get a grip? I'm trying to offer you something you never had before."

"I told you, I'm not interested in--"

"A chance at Shampoo, loverboy." Mousse blinked. Then rapidly shuffled to his feet. "But in order for that to happen," she lifted her index finger. "Some changes need to be made."

Well-founded distrust burned in this expression. "And why would you help me?"

"Easy. You win the girl, you and the entire Red Invasion go back to that little backwater bog you call home and leave all of us the hell alone. Sounds like a reasonable trade-off to everyone involved."

He snorted. "That couldn't possibly be your only motivation."

Hmm. She'd forgotten that not all of Ranma's friends were as stupid as he was. As he'd find out eventually. . .

"Okay, I did have another motive."

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A lonely gull swooped over the Tendo dojo, its cry of solitude echoing across the sky of Nerima at dusk.

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The Amazon stared far, far off into the distance, his splintered self-esteem so elegantly displayed by the tragically pale and trembling wireframe that housed a mere ghost of his former pride. Finally, Mousse blinked once, mouth open slightly, as his sandpaper tongue ran over suddenly parched lips. "Mere words could not possibly convey the magnitude of my distress."

"Well, at least you found out, eh?" Nabiki smirked. "But seriously, much as I find this matter of ownership amusing, and believe me, I *like* owning things, I'm giving you a choice. You can follow Shampoo and spend another year as her personal doormat and 'kick me' sign, or you can change your situation."

Mousse shuffled his feet, a toe idly poking at the floor paneling. "I don't know. I'll have to think about it."

The Tendo girl casually buffed her nails on the front of her blouse. "Of course. All those ramen deliveries must be mentally fatiguing." Off his sour look, she added, "Just don't take too long, Silky. Offer's only good for a limited time."

As the boy shuffled dazedly off, she shook her head, muttering, "Like trying to talk to a bowl of tapioca."

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"Hey Mousse."

The Amazon only nodded in return as he shambled by her down the hallway.

Akane turned, mildly puzzled as he walked into the doorjamb, cursed and then felt his way out. Deciding it wasn't worth pursuing, she continued on to Nabiki's room, where she found her sister cross-legged in bed, idly moving flat wooden markers around on a modified chessboard.

"How is the, uh--" She gestured.

The older girl shrugged.

"I win one, the duck wins another, or we stalemate or draw." She then grinned. "Give me a little while, though and I'll beat the robe off him." Then leaned casually leaned back. "But you're not here to talk about board games, are you?"

"Not exactly," Akane admitted, slightly uncomfortable. "I want to ask you about Mousse's and your, um, situation."

Nabiki drifted dreamily off into space. "I never thought it would happen . . . " And sighed. "Such a strange emotion."

Akane stared at her.

The brown-haired girl gripped her pillow into a fierce hug. "Who knew love could come so unexpectedly?"

And stared.

She tilted her head, wounded. "Can't a girl develop sudden, overwhelming feelings for someone?"

Still staring.

"You know, if you stay like that, it'll freeze in place."

"Oneechan," the youngest Tendo finally spoke. "One day, you're going to go too far."

Nabiki dropped all pretense and stuck her tongue out. "You're no fun anymore."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

Akane resisted the urge to beat her head against the door. "How did Cologne manage to persuade you into--" Her right hand twisted and floundered. "--The Mousse thing."

"Let's just say the old biddy offered me a really sweet deal."

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"Don't get me wrong. While I believe your reasons for wanting to dump Duck Boy into my lap are perfectly valid and interesting." She leaned forward, eye to eye with the matriarch perched on the table. "the more important question is, what do *I* get out of it?"

"Mr. Part Time gets to be your property for a little while." Nabiki rolled her eyes and yawned. "Don't be so eager to dismiss him. Amazon males are quite versed in the domestic arts - cooking, cleaning, housekeeping, everything an aspiring businesswoman needs at home."

"And this interests me because . . . ? You've just described everything Kasumi already does."

"Were you planning to live at the Tendo dojo for the rest of your life?" Off the girl's slight frown, the Matriarch pressed on. "Mousse also learns quickly - very quickly. Plus, as you've already noticed, he's a pretty good chess player. Look how swiftly he learned Japanese. Anything you teach him - business, stocks, figures, extortion, he'll pick up and master in a very short time. Plus entrance exams are also coming up soon, aren't they? How do you plan to handle the preparations for that and your . . . business . . . as well? Isn't it about time you learned to delegate?"

Nabiki still looked unconvinced. Worse, she was looking bored.

"Isn't that what you're trying to do right now?"

The old crone cackled. "See, you're learning already. The Nekohanten and it's facilities will also be at your full disposal, of course." Noting the girl begin to waver slightly, Cologne pressed on. "And, you may find that having me as your advocate could prove worthwhile, perhaps in future circumstances."

A pause at that. It could be quite advantageous if the Matriarch of the Joketsuzoku owed her a favor.

Cologne placed her final gambit in place. "And just to let you know, something you might find very interesting came in on shipment today." With a flourish, she lifted the cover off the mystery item on the counter.

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Akane's jaw dropped.

"An espresso machine? You caved in his head for an espresso machine?"

"Not *just* any espresso machine." Nabiki held up a brochure, an eager glint radiating in her grin. "A Capresso C3000 Automatic Espresso Machine and Coffee Center with dual heat exchange, automatic milk frothing, and programmable coffee dosing system."

"O-kay." The younger girl frowned. "But doesn't this mean you have to marry Mousse?"

Nabiki scoffed. "You mean like how hermaphrodite boy has to marry Shampoo?"

"I guess you have a point there."

"The real point of the matter is, Cologne asked a favor of me, and I'm helping her with it."

"Out of the goodness of your heart."

A lopsided grin. "Right."

"And Mousse is agreeing to all this?"

Nabiki shrugged. "What he thinks is irrelevant. Hey, no worries," she waved at the crinkle of her sister's frown. "He'll come around eventually." Her gaze settled upon the bandage on Akane's neck and narrowed.

The other girl's hand flew up to the spot, self-consciously covering it. "It's nothing. Just a little cut."

"Huh. Is that anything like the whole being just a little dead in China part?"

Akane's eyes darted up to her sister's, then dropped. "Oneechan--"

"Before you say anything, I just want to let you know: I don't hate the guy. I don't even dislike him. Much. I mean, there's something disgustingly wholesome about Ranma, despite his little Casanova tendencies. But he's going to get you killed. Again, I mean. And, hey, not acceptable here."

"Don't you think deciding what's acceptable should be my decision?" The girl ran a frustrated hand through her short-cropped hair. "Father expects me to take over the dojo. Both he and Mr. Saotome expect me to marry Ranma right now. Mrs. Saotome wants a litter of heirs. Kuno wants to take me away from all of this. And you. I know you're trying to protect me, but. . . but everyone wants to control my life, and no one ever asks me what *I* want. "

She snorted. "Have you ever thought it was because you can't take care of yourself? In case you've forgotten, little sis, I spent a week as the official so-called fiancee. It certainly opened my eyes to the type of company Ranma keeps."

"What do you mean?"

"You're not good enough!" The younger girl flinched slightly under Nabiki's hardened gaze. "Face up to reality, Akane, you can't measure up to any of them in a fight. If any of the others decide to end this little game, you'll be dead. Finito. The end. Fat lady singeth!"

The older girl expected anger, loud, vehement protests of 'I'm a martial artist too,' her sister's stubborn refusal to acknowledge reality, obliviously happy in her little bubble of deluded self-sufficiency.

Instead what she got was:

"Don't you think I know that? I'm not stupid, oneesan. I know I'm nowhere as good as Shampoo. Maybe not even Ukyo or Kodachi. I know I can't cook or sew or . . . but . . . " I'm dying anyway. I might already be dead. Does it really matter? "I'm fed up, Nabiki. Tired of everyone doing what they think is best for me. I want my life back. On my own terms, and I'm not going to give up on . . . not after . . . " her mouth snapped shut. "Not after this long," she finally amended.

"You're serious. You're going to go through with this engagement farce."

Akane reddened, but slowly nodded.

"And if I don't agree?"

"Oneechan . . . butt out!" Off Nabiki's nonplused look, she pleaded. "Let it go. Please. You have no idea how hard it's been for him."

Oh, she was stupid. Her little sister was stupid. And idealistic. And this whole stupid arrangement just reeked of 'I am time bomb, hear me tick', because Saotome was nothing except bad for her health. And yet. Akane with that stubborn set of her jaw, face mulishly set in resolve mode, Akane trying to take back control of her life. She might be a fool, but somehow Nabiki had trouble finding fault with that.

She sighed. "Then what are you going to do about the others?"

Akane blinked. "Huh?"

"Your fiance's going to seriously hurt someone, unless you do something."

"Ranma would never--"

"You mean he wouldn't have tried to pop off Kuno-chan's head like a bottlecap? It sure looked like that this morning."

The girl shifted nervously. "He overreacted. He wouldn't--"

"Do you honestly think he wouldn't kill someone?" came the interruption.

Nothing in the way of response. Akane was suddenly preoccupied with the fingers folders in her lap as stony silence descended. Her sister watched her, tilted her head, then leaned back against the pillow, gaze turned to the ceiling. As Nabiki's eyes slipped shut, she let out a long, slow breath.

"Kami. He already has, hasn't he?"

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"So, uh." Ranma nervously cleared his throat, trying to make casual conversation with the girl across the counter from him. Her face was cupped in her left hand, a dreamy, starry-eyed expression in her gaze. And she'd been like that for the past fifteen minutes, all nodding and smiling and 'Uh huh, Ranchan.' It was getting kind of weird.

"How's business been?" Harmless enough. Right?

The dreamy look faltered, confused, and then dissipated with a frown. "Your parents poached my waitress. I didn't realize I'd miss his help so much until lunch hour."

"Er. Sorry 'bout that." Backpedaling now. "Mom gets kinda single-minded about certain stuff and oyaji kinda took Konatsu on as a project."

The slight frown tranformed into a full-faced scowl as Ukyo straightened up. "Genma's got something coming if he thinks he can get around the engagement with this lame plan."

Ranma leapt up. "No! It ain't like that at all. You know how my mom is about 'manly-men' and all. Pop'n Mister Tendo are just helpin'!" Backpedaling at high speed, so fast, he was practically running in reverse.

"So they *are* trying to build 'Natsu up to weasel out of this. Why I could kill that damn panda--"

Blank. Completely blank. The pigtailed boy's brain served up the blue screen of death as Ukyo went into full mode rant.

"--marinate him for three days and then slowly cook him over an open fire--"

"Igottaleaverealsoon," he suddenly blurted out. "Goin' to China. Taking care of some stuff with Shampoo an' Akane." Maybe one day, he could just shut up.

"China. You. All alone." With every sentence Ukyo's eyebrows shot up higher and higher into her hairline. "With the both of them!"

"Well, it ain't like it's gonna be-- hey where're you going?"

Several minutes later the okonomiyaki chef came back with a large pack and began picking out various utensils and cooking materials from behind the counter.

"Ucchan." Agitated fingers ran through his bangs in vexation and trepidation. "This ain't a vacation!"

"Then I'd better pack a few extra weapons as well." She selected a fine set of shuriken-like spatulas from the large collection of . . . shuriken-like spatulas from the drawer where all the shuriken-like spatulas lay.

Ranma hopped to his feet in coiled exasperation. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Of course, Ranchan. I always listen to you." And she smiled, oh, so sweetly. "But you're still not leaving me behind this time."

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"Shampoo?" Mousse knocked, then stepped into the room where she knelt, organizing the contents of her pack.

"Back to Jusenkyo," came the reply, the Amazon not looking up.

He nodded. "I'll get packing."

"No."

The boy paused. "I don't under--"

"Nothing to understand." She tramped down the stairs with him following behind. "You stay here with Hibachan. Take care of Nekohanten. I go back with Airen and Violent Girl."

A laugh, something sharp and bitter. "I should have known. It's always Saotome, isn't it? Just what do you see in him? Because I really don't understand."

"Really, Mousse, are you that dense?" In the storeroom, Shampoo picked up several hard buns and a slab of salted meat, unconsciously slipping back into Mandarin. "He's beautiful--"

"Short."

"Arrogant--"

"This is a good thing?"

"Strong, brave and courageous--"

He grabbed her shoulders and turned her to him, pinning her with an unfocused gaze. "And he doesn't love you. On a good day he barely tolerates you. Most of the time he just thinks you're a pest. You were there on Jusendo with us. You can't pretend you didn't see what happened. He will NEVER care about you the way he does the Tendo girl, NEVER the way," he took a breath to steady himself. "The way I do."

Shampoo looked at him sadly, then turned away, tying the ends of a purple handkerchief around her rations. And softly, so soft, he almost didn't hear it. "I know."

"Then why? Why are you chasing after something you know you'll never obtain?"

"Why are you?" She said it with such finality, he could almost hear the click and yet there was no joy in it, none of the starry-eyed, exuberant energy she displayed whenever she glomped onto the object of her affections. "I have a responsibility to my airen. And so do you. To yours."

"Nabiki's not--"

"According to law she is. Do not dishonor yourself further by refusing to acknowledge it. And do not dishonor me as well."

"And what honor does Saotome bestow on you by stringing you and countless other women along to feed his ego?"

"It's the Amazon way, Mousse. Our way, plain and simple. Do you think that if I could change it, I wouldn't do so in an instant?"

"Then why don't you? It's not impossible. It's just law, Shampoo. There are dozens of loopholes for this thing. If you wanted out--"

The lavender haired girl lifted her head. "Maybe because it IS law! You may not give a damn about them, but I DO. I was the strongest, Mousse. I was the best. And I was defeated twice. Law tells me that I must marry my better. Why? Because the Amazons are the strongest. We are the best. And that is what I am. An Amazon. Now, tell me Mousse, are you a man or are you an Amazon?"

His hands dropped from her shoulders to fall limply at his sides, as she shrugged out of his grasp. He watched the blur of her silently ascend the stairs, purple satchel dangling from her fingers, never turning to face him, not even when she spoke as she reached the top of the second floor. "And that's why you'll never understand."

Then she was gone.

When he'd first followed her from China, he reasoned it would take only a few days to convince his beloved of his devotion. The few days had lengthened into weeks, then months. Then over a year had passed, and here he was, no further now than when he'd first left the village in pursuit with the naive, nearsighted dream that love, not battle would conquer her heart -- damn all the rules.

A year ago Mousse had been foolish and optimistic. Now, he discovered, he was still foolish. And he envisioned himself in that endless circle of Shampoo chasing Ranma, of him chasing Shampoo. 'Round and 'round they went, chasing each other on that mobile, another few weeks, another few months, another few years. . .

He stumbled into the unlit recesses of the Nekohanten's kitchen and fumbled blindly for the phone, dialing the numbers by touch.

When the other side picked up, he choked out, "I accept your offer."

"Took you long enough," Nabiki's voice returned.

He hung up the phone, leaning back heavily against the wall. After a moment, he slid to the floor and buried his face in his hands.

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I've got to stop ending these parts on downers. One more chapter to go, and they're off to China!

Coming up next: Dosey-do

"Maybe I'm just so utterly repulsive that no woman, let alone Shampoo would tolerate me."

"Naw man, it's not that at all. Shampoo's just. . . I dunno. Fixated. Yeah, that's the word."

The Amazon sighed. "You're just saying that."

"I mean it! You're a pretty good lookin' guy an' all, got a decent head, and some loyalty. If I were a chick I'd-- I mean if I were into guys-- No--wait. If you were a chick--"

Ranma finally decided on silence, realizing that the conversation was steering into bizarre, bizarre waters that no one could dig themselves out of without turning it Yaoi.

Incredibly uncomfortable silence descended on the two like a big, thick omelet. After a way too long moment, Mousse finally cleared his throat.

"Saotome."

"Yeh?"

"Let's never, ever go there again."

"You got it."