Sailor Moon Fan Fiction / Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Phoenix: The Next Generation ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 2 )

Ami walked into the house she shared with her mother. It was a modest residence, one that didn't scream “I have lots of money!” but it was theirs. Sometimes the sometime-Senshi of Mercury wondered why her mother had kept her married name, even though her father, one of Soun's last students of Musabetsu Kakutou after the death of his wife, divorced Kasumi not to long after Ami's birth. Of course, the circumstances behind both the marriage and divorce were…shameful for the Tendos in the least.

But it wasn't as though Kasumi was harmed by the experience. If anything, the eldest Tendo daughter was galvanized by her situation. As soon as she was able to, Kasumi finished college, majoring in pre-med, did her internship and residency at Tokyo General, threw everyone in both her class and family for a loop when she opted for both aerospace and trauma medicine, instead of the family GP they all thought she would become, and still managed to graduate first in her class, even though the hours were hell on her daughter.

The real surprise for her family was when she announced at dinner one night after graduation that she was enlisting in the Air Self Defense Force. Her father tried talking her out of it, saying that the ASDF was only for those that graduated from second-best schools. Kasumi's reply, in a calm voice, “What the hell do you think Furinkan is, Father…Eton? You should be glad I was even able to get into Todai. Baka oyaji.” Eyebrows were raised when her family heard her swear. Even eight year old Ami raised her eyebrow, hearing her mother curse. The only one who supported her decision was Nodoka, and that's because she had known their mother's father, another IJN fighter pilot, who'd served with her father in China.

But, with the support of her sisters, and a special dispensation from the Central Air Division Commander, General Tskumoto, Kasumi went through basic and OCS, and showed the same determination she had shown in college, and graduated honor graduate in both schools, then spent two and a half years in the United States between Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, for flight surgeon school, and Randolph Air Force Base, learning to fly. Kasumi's proudest day was the day she earned her wings. Both her daughter and Nabiki, who was working for Mitsushima Heavy Industries, in their Philadelphia office, were at the ceremony to pin her wings on her blue Class-A's. Then back to Japan, for posting at Iruma Airbase, as the base's only flight surgeon. If anything, Kasumi brought honor back to the Tendo family with her accomplishments. She also included the occasional night shift as trauma doc for Tokyo General, just to keep her connection with the community.

“Taidama,” Ami called, she put her house slippers on. Even with all her mother had been through, she was still a traditional Japanese woman at heart. Ami noticed that there were two other sets of shoes in the genkan.

“I'm in the kitchen, Ami-chan,” Kasumi called. “And I've got a surprise for you.”

“Nothing could beat yesterday and today for surprises,” the blue-haired girl muttered under her breath, as she walked into the kitchen. “Auntie Nabs,” she shouted, running into her aunt's arms. “When did you get here?”

“Last night. Lauren and I stopped by to see your mother. And she's been filling us in on all the latest news about the family.” Nabiki shook her head. “It seems we no longer have a legacy.”

Ami nodded at her aunt. “Hai, because Aunt Akane can't keep either her big mouth or my spoiled cousins in check.”

“Ami,” her mother said reprovingly. “Your cousins are not spoiled.” Ah, even for all her accomplishments, the classic pre-married life vacuous Kasumi still makes an appearance.

“Then explain why Kimiko and Natsume can apparently do no wrong in their mother's eyes? Hell sis, even I see it when I come home to visit. Why do you think I don't like coming home, anyway? And it's not just because Daddy doesn't approve of my choice in partner. It's because Akane was Daddy's little princess, heir to a dying school.”

Grudgingly, Kasumi acknowledged her sister's point of view. “It's just that Akane tries so hard to be the best mother for them.”

“Sis,” Nabiki countered, “how many times did Akane try to be a better cook than you, only to have what she made come alive on us? Kami-sama, I'm glad imouto-chan married into the Kunos. At least they can afford to have a fulltime staff.”

Nabiki looked at her niece and gracefully changed the subject. “So, who's the vic…er, lucky guy that gets to marry a Tendo? Even if it is a generation removed.”

Ami sat down, and sipped the cup of green tea that her mother had provided. “Saburo Marx,” she said plainly. “Eldest son of Ranma Saotome and Christopher Marx, grandson of Nodoka Saotome.”

Nabiki wiped her face off. “Lauren, if you are going to do that again,” she asked sweetly, but with a hint of venom, “please, face the sink. Or it's the couch for you.” Yes, Lauren Hutton understood almost every word being said. Nabiki had taught the redheaded USAF technical sergeant, and a certain pig-headed general's secretary, Japanese, usually by screaming in her native tongue when they were in bed, or in the car on one of the empty bivouac sites along Ft Dix's Range Road. Or…well, you get the picture.

“Sorry, Nabs,” Lauren said. “I don't believe it. Colonel Marx's son is like a martial arts god, who can't help but get into trouble with authority. You have no idea how many times I had to run interference between the Colonel and General Cortalano when Summit High School would call the Colonel in because his son was in a fight at school and Ranma wasn't there to defuse the situation.

“Plus, when he'd go to China every summer, I had to have my contacts in OSI keep the contact reports that he'd have to fill out when he got back from landing on General Cortalano's desk.”

“I take it there's bad blood between Saburo's father and this particular general,” Kasumi asked.

“Oh, good god yes. The two of them are like oil and a lit flare. All it would take is just one little thing to set them at each other's throats.” Lauren smiled a not so nice smile, as a vein began to bulge on Ami's forehead. “I can't tell you the number of times I'd see the General storm out of his office, heading for Colonel Marx's. Or the shouting I heard through the three foot thick steel reinforced concrete floors in the headquarters building.”

The vein started throb. “Figures,” Ami muttered, “like father, like son. I just hope that Saburo's father doesn't have another wife somewhere…” The looks she suddenly got from everyone made Ami feel six inches small. “Oh shit.”

“What was that about another wife,” Kasumi asked patiently, but in the sort of voice that screamed “Tell me, or you're grounded for the rest of your life.”

“Um…where to begin?”

“The beginning usually helps.”

“Well, um…okay. You see, it's like this…” Ami told her mother, aunt, and her aunt's girlfriend what Saburo and Tigar had told her. Of course, she left out the part that Tigar was originally a tiger that fell into a magical spring of water and turned into an anime-style catgirl. And she finished with “…and if you don't believe me, you can always call Saburo's father up. I'm sure his office number is listed in the official directories, Mom.”

“It's not that I don't trust you, Ami, it's just that this sounds like something out of an anime.”

“Mom, you have no idea,” she muttered. “I've got homework to do, okay?”

“Of course. We'll talk about this later, Ami-chan.” Kasumi placed her head in her hands. “First Keiichi, and now this. What Kami did I annoy to deserve this torment,” she asked rhetorically, ironically repeating both Marx and his son.

As is their want, the Kami remained quiet. They're too busy watching their latest favorite reality show. Survivor got old, quickly, since it was too easy to predict the winners.

00000

 

Saburo was walking home from the library, having sent Gregory home. He didn't need the Protective Services agent right now, and he needed time to think. He was stuck; smack dab in the middle of a love triangle…no that would have implied only two girls. He was stuck in a love tetrahedron, a lovely little geometric figure that could explain his situation brilliantly. There was Tigar, a girl—well, catgirl—he had a crush on since he was eleven. Then there was Jenny, his girlfriend back in New Jersey; they'd been going out for over a year, and had been voted “Most Likely to Marry” by their class in the yearbook. And now, there was a new variable added: Ami Mizuno, granddaughter to his grandfather's training partner, and pledged to be his bride by an honor agreement between the old fools. The sun was setting, and he was facing the west, so he couldn't see all that well when two silhouettes appeared out of an alley.

“You don't think we're worthy?” Kimiko, or was it Natsume, said.

“You don't think we have any skill?” The other said.

“You're right,” Saburo replied, calmly. “You don't have any skill, and I don't date prepubescent girls.”

“Then…Die!” The girls charged at him, one pulling a mallet out of “stuff space”, the other a rug beater.

“Oh boy,” Saburo muttered He dodged the first swing of the mallet, which put him in the path of the rug beater. “Ok, time to get serious,” he said to himself, when the rug beater connected.

Kimiko, with the mallet, went for an overhead strike, which landed in the pavement, when her target got out of the way. Natsume attempted a backhand, and when that didn't work, tried a forehand. Saburo ducked, dodged, and weaved the strikes. “Your hips are too thick,” he called to Kimiko, and ducked the swing. “You're built like a brick,” to Natsume, followed by a vault over her head. “Neither of you have any skill,” to the both of them, and circled around them.

“Saburo no baka!” The both shouted at him, and charged. Their target, however, was leading them around in a spiral, as he continued to evade their attacks.

“Hiryu Shoten Ha, revised—Dance of the Flying Snake!” With that, he punched the air, and a small tornado enveloped the two Kuno twins. Within the twister, provided from Saburo's hidden weapons training, was ten meters of parachute cord, which entangled Kimiko and Natsume, wrapping them up like mummies, complete with knots, before wrapping around a street lamp. “Don't trifle with me, little girls,” he said to the mummified Kuno twins. “The cost is too high.”

 

Saburo walked into the apartment building, his nerves on a high state of alert. Walking through the door of their apartment, he shouted “Taidama,” as he closed the door and changed to house slippers.

“You're home late,” his mother called from the kitchen.

“Yeah, well, the Blunder Twins decided to ambush me outside the library,” he muttered, walking into the kitchen. “I'm really glad they don't have any skill, otherwise I'd have wound up in the hospital with blunt force trauma. Even with the Bakusai Tenketsu training, it'd still hurt.”

“Oh?” That piqued Ranma's interest.

“Yeah. Natsume had a rug beater, Kimiko had a mallet. Neither one was very good with their weapons. Plus they ambushed me, and I had no choice but to defend myself.”

“You didn't injure them, did you?”

“Nah, I left'em alive but wrapped up. Dad was right. `550' cord sure comes in handy for a thousand and one uses.” He, of course, neglected to tell his mother where he left them wrapped up. That would earn a lecture from her.

It still didn't save him, however. “Saburo, that was mean.”

“What would you have liked me to have done, Mom, beat them unconscious?”

“Of course not. But, if I had been in your shoes, I probably would have beaten them unconscious, then left them at the doctor's office.” Ranma stirred the pot of miso soup as she thought how to broach the next topic. “Saburo, your grandmother would like to start training you in the art of the sword. If you think you're going to be attacked by the Kuno girls on a regular basis, a bokken might prove to be a sufficient deterrent.”

“And where am I going to keep it? On my backpack like some deranged samurai,” Saburo retorted.

“No,” Ranma countered. “You know Hidden Weapons. Maybe it's time you used it for more than your school books.”

“I'll think about it, Mom,” he replied. “But I've never seen you use a weapon. And isn't using weapons a violation of the basic tenets of Musabetsu Kakutou?”

“No. Reliance on a weapon's art and nothing else is a bad thing. Weapons are, after all, a significant part of every martial art. Think about the Amazons. They're superb martial artists in both armed and unarmed combat. Look at the Hiryu Shoten Ha, the Amaguriken, and even the Bakusai Tenketsu are all unarmed techniques, which keep even the most experienced swordsman at bay.”

“I know Mom, it's just that I enjoy practicing the Art for the pureness of rhythm of the family school. With a weapon, I'll be afraid of injuring or even killing someone.”

“I know you do, Saburo-kun.” Ranma set the miso to simmer, and pulled her son into an embrace. “But what's the main tenet of the school?”

Her son looked into Ranma's blue eyes, and could see the three thousand years of Amazon history there. The three thousand years that was crammed into her in nine months. So it was with all seriousness when Saburo answered. “Do unto others before they do unto you?”

Ranma laughed. “Where did you here that from, your father?” Saburo nodded sheepishly. “It figures he'd say something like that. I think that was the motto of the Minutemen. He's definitely going to get a piece of my mind tonight.”

Saburo slipped out his mother's hug. “Just try to keep it down tonight, when you do. I've got both a physics and a calculus test to study for tonight.” As he left the kitchen, he gave one last comment. “Perverts,” he called, ducking behind the wall before his mother could retaliate.

“Wise ass,” she muttered, going back to fixing dinner. “I'm home,” she heard her husband from the front door. She waited by the door to the kitchen, and when Marx walked through the door, following his nose, she pounced like a lioness on a wounded zebra.

For his effort, Marx was rewarded by a wriggling wife, staying one step ahead of his grasp. “I got you know,” he growled, locking his legs around his wife.

Ranma toppled onto him. “So, how was your day?” She asked, innocence in her blue eyes.

“Not bad. Don't plan on making dinner tomorrow night. We're having dinner at the Chinese Embassy.”

“You didn't…” Ranma growled.

“No. I just talked to Xian Pu, through normal diplomatic channels, and reminded her that we'd like to meet our `daughter-in-law' in a `social' environment. Xian Pu is the one who suggested dinner at the Embassy. She'll work out the details tomorrow.”