The Bad Cut
Chapter FOUR

"Where are you going, boy?"

To Ranma Saotome, heir to the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts, the answer to that question should have been painfully obvious. While even she didn't know where she was going yet, the fact that there was a pack slung across her back clearly advertised that her destination wouldn't be the mini-mart three blocks down.

"To get rid of this hair, duh" The heir-turned-heiress stated in a tone that clearly doubted the intelligence of the person asking the question while continuing to walk the gravel path in order to exit the Tendo property. The girl flipped one of the longer strands of red hair from her face as she turned back to the gate, fully expecting her father to assail her any moment. Her next footsteps went unchallenged until he spoke out again in a stern tone.

"And how do you expect to pluck the whisker from a dragon if you can't defeat your own father?" Genma Saotome menaced, but smiled to himself within as the girl stopped dead in her tracks.

Hook, line...

She shrugged her backpack off without turning around to face him. "Is that a challenge, old man?"

...and sinker.

For Ranma, it wasn't so much the challenge that had stopped her. The fat panda was a blowhard she could safely ignore when it came to the slights intended to provoke her. In this case, however, the challenge was directly relevant to her ability to follow through with the next step of her hair control plan. In short he was right, and if she couldn't defeat him here and now, there was little point in challenging a real dragon should she actually find one.

"Don't got all day then," She drawled, working her neck to stretch the kinks out as the pack slid to the ground. Genma adjusted his glasses and the hard glint in his eye told her that he was taking this particular challenge seriously.

'Wouldn't have it any other way,' Ranma decided and waited for her father's opening move.

Both stood in the courtyard facing one another silently. A dried leaf tumbled by and both martial artists exploded into motion. It was a relatively short lived battle between father and son, even if the son had been turned into a daughter via supernatural means. Kicks. Parries. Punches. As the current head of Anything Goes, Genma Saotome represented experience and knowledge. He had raised his son in the art and knew it like the back of his hand, using it to pry every opening he could from the child. Ranma Saotome was just better and his father knew it. Genma swelled with pride at the absolute perfection and economy with which she employed their mutual art.

She- he -Genma corrected himself hastily, would eventually be a martial artist without peer, surpassing even himself. Today, however, was not that day. A lot was riding on their stay with the Tendos, and he wasn't about to forsake it on the whims of a child.

'Age and treachery will always overcome youth and enthusiasm,' Genma thought at his son as he ducked low to avoid a round house and the obvious feint it represented before stepping just out of range of further reprisal. The boy was good enough to draw this fight out all day, and every moment he did so would give him the hope of victory...

...Hope that Genma Saotome would have to crush.

"Time you learned the true power of the Saotome branch of Anything Goes, boy," The Saotome patriarch warned as he assumed a stance that looked vaguely like a praying mantis stance. This time Ranma was ready for the inevitable stop sign, kettle of hot water or any number of the cheesy tricks her father pulled on a regular basis.

This time, she was wrong.

This time was for real and Ranma watched with part wonder, part alarm as her father faded completely from sight... In broad daylight. Another portion of Ranma's mind screamed of the potentially dire implications the art form she was now witnessing held and demanded immediate action. The redhead charged her father, but her fist slipped through his afterimage like a mirage. The next two sensations Ranma felt were in the exact order Genma Saotome had intended:

Pain.

Unconsciousness.

It would be another fifteen minutes before another sensation intruded upon Ranma Saotome's lethargic subconscious, and the world rocked with its first application. Neurons fired as well-oiled automation insisted that she return to the waking world. Another probing nudge was felt and this time the redhead retained enough awareness to localize it to her ribs. Awareness suddenly returned with the realization and her eyes blinked open.

Sky dominated the young martial artist's view… And a face. Chinese features and purple hair stared curiously down at her. Shampoo studied her stricken mistress for another moment before speaking in rudimentary Japanese.

"Is alive?"

A groan was her answer and Shampoo frowned at her continued misfortune while Ranma squinted through the headache playing merry havoc in her brain. The neo-girl propped herself up slowly, shaking the cobwebs from her thought process, then tested her various limbs for function. She cast a glance around the yard, finding it completely absent of her father.

Ranma glanced up at the waiting Amazon. "Don't suppose you saw the technique he threw at me?"

While it was supremely unfortunate that her mistress was still alive, the aforementioned technique was particularly impressive; more so considering that it was a male that had employed it. Shampoo shook her head. "Wúxíng… disappear. Strike. Not see."

"Right, that's the part I got," The redhead shook her head, rubbing her forehead before finally committing to the task of picking herself up off the grass she had been deposited onto. Her blue eyes scanned the ground around them for any trace of the battle that would lead to a clue as to her father's mystery technique. "Somethin' about his ki was off… Something… weird."

Shampoo merely nodded as the girl traced the ground with her fingers, then shook her head with an irritated look. "Stupid ol' man."

Ranma returned to height and walked. Where wasn't an important priority in her mind, but she needed time to think things through and that place wasn't the site of her latest defeat. In reality, it was even worse than that. Just being beaten by her father wasn't bad enough. She had been beaten in what was a rarity for him these days- A fair fight. His patronizing voice leered back at Ranma from her mind's eye.

"And how do you expect to pluck the whisker of a dragon if you can't defeat your own father?"

It was unpleasantly relevant to the martial artist, and her mood soured further. How indeed? What other special techniques was he holding in reserve just to kick her ass on days like today? Ranma had reached the gates when she registered the largely unwelcome presence of a Chinese Amazon still at her side.

Ranma stopped and stared at Shampoo's emotionless expression before shaking her head. "You're stayin."

"Go with." The lavender haired girl state imperviously, remaining in place.

"No, ya ain't," Ranma insisted, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. Her irritated countenance returned to the Amazon seconds later. "You're stayin' here. Get better. Go home. Help Kasumi with dinner for all I care. But I'm going for a walk. Alone."

The word 'alone' was accompanied by a glare that promised to put words into action, and while Shampoo struggled with the Japanese thrust upon her, the redhead's body language was perfectly clear. With her ultimatum delivered, Ranma turned on the ball of her foot and sauntered through the property gate, leaving Shampoo to contemplate her orders…

...And the fact that her mistress was clearly in a particularly sadistic mood to leave her in the hands of the eldest Tendo sister to perform menial labor meant for males.

All things considered, it was a nice, if somewhat breezy day for the pedestrian traffic of the Tokyo suburb of Nermia. Salary men scurried back and forth, hastening to make the most of their lunch break while those more fortunate to have the day off went about their business buying groceries, trying on clothes and engaging in other such mundane activities that people dabbled in regularly. They weren't martial artists with gender curses or hair curses. They didn't have vengeful rivals or Chinese assassin-servants. They were normal people, much like the woman in her late thirties walking along the causeway at an easy pace.

Save the occasional glance at the silk wrapped length she bore, the auburn haired woman in her sky blue, floral print kimono went largely unnoticed amongst the sparse foot traffic around, which was fine. Nodoka Saotome was in no hurry anyway. She was, however, preoccupied. Her home was to host the ladies Majong night, and a mental shopping list of preparations was being sorted through and prioritized.

Those with more pressing schedules moved around her, avoiding the distracted woman and her silk wrapped item easily while she, in turn, retained enough awareness to remain off to the side and out of the main line of foot traffic. The woman confirmed her mental itinerary with a satisfied nod and was just about to return to her path of travel when a vibrant crop of red hair bobbing through the crowd caught her eye. While dyed red hair wasn't necessarily unusual in Japanese society, naturally red hair was. It was also genetic peculiarity that Nodoka herself shared to a degree and she tracked the teenage girl it belonged to with interest as she navigated the crowd with uncanny grace.

'...with hair as red as grandmother Mido,' Nodoka commented absently to herself as she watched the girl clear the crowd to engage one of the yakitori vendors frequenting the district's sidewalks. The teen mulled over her choices while Nodoka watched from a distance. She was even considering asking the girl if she was related in any way when the most curious thing happened- The girl began to sniffle; barely stopping short of outright crying.

Had the vendor said something? Did the girl hurt herself? A number of questions were being conjured by Nodoka as she observed both redhead and vendor converse through the girl's sniffles, finally ending with the sympathetic looking vendor handing a number of stickies over to his patron. The teenager smiled brightly, dazzling the man with cuteness that left even Nodoka Saotome blinking. As quickly as they had come, the tears were gone and the child was on her way.

The woman's study flicked back and forth between the diverging pair. The vendor wore a self-satisfied smile on his face as if he had done his good deed for the day, while the girl had merged with the other pedestrians, showing none of her former distress as she consumed her newly acquired foodstuffs.

Curiosity supplanted the shopping list now, and Nodoka followed.

It was a short lived chase that ended two blocks later and coincidentally in front of another food vendor. This particular cart dispensed octopus balls courtesy of a kindly old man who was just as happy to serve the girl as the last, where upon the waterworks renewed themselves courtesy of the girl. This time Nodoka's eyebrow arched skeptically as she watched the scene begin anew from across the street. The old man gave her a pat on the shoulder in a bid not to upset her further and happily sent her on her way with a double order…

...Free of charge.

It was this observation that left Nodoka Saotome dumbfounded as that singular fact was noted, and with it, the implications it held. The girl was on her way and Nodoka followed, hanging back just enough to keep her red mane in sight through the crowd. The teen's course changed abruptly and Nodoka thought that her covert observation had been discovered… At least until the redhead's course intersected with a crepe stand.

A frown took up residence on Nodoka's face as the performance repeated itself once more. This time the victim- and Nodoka was more than comfortable with that descriptive now -was a twenty something year old male behind the counter. Also completely obvious now was the scenario the girl employed as the older woman watched with a critical eye. The girl would make a show of looking adorable as she ordered her food, then suddenly discover she had no money to speak of.

She was almost correct. Instead of the sweet, adorable girl play, the Saotome matriarch watched as this the redhead openly flirted with the hapless younger vendor, leaning to and fro to ensure he had an excellent view of everything. While the girl was certainly attractive enough to make it work, Nodoka shook her head sadly with the change of tactics. 'Degrading' didn't even begin to describe what she was witnessing.

'Cue the cute, pitiful girl act,' she predicted blandly as the girl patted down her empty pockets. Finding no money to pay with, said cute, pitiful girl finally made her appearance and the boy behind the counter reacted just as predictably. A larger than average crepe was assembled and the cuteness radiating from the girl became saccharin.

Nodoka's left cheek twitched. This girl's act was an affront to femininity and womanhood. It was almost criminal, let alone demeaning to even watch it. The laws of morality and decency demanded action. Corrective action.

'And I shall be the one to administer it,' Nodoka decided resolutely as the scene entered its final moments and the girl moved on, one crepe richer.

'...Yet morally poorer,' The woman amended and followed the girl to her next victim. By the time Nodoka caught up, the redhead was already well on her way to securing several sticks of grilled fish from a fourth vendor when Nodoka interrupted, tapping the girl on the shoulder.

"Know you no shame, child?" The redhead's descent into obnoxiously cute wheedling stalled as she turned around to face the adult with feigned ignorance. Nodoka would have none of it and fixed a stern matriarchal stare upon her. "Young ladies such as yourself shouldn't use their charm to obtain trivial favor."

The girl seemed to stare without comprehension for a moment before all pretense of misunderstanding vanished from her attitude, as did any trace of the cute girl act. An aloof, uncaring persona filled the void and the redhead affected a dismissive shrug. "Well this body ain't good for much else. 'Cides, what business is it of yours?"

"A woman's body is her sacred temple," She lectured as the girl's odd response took Nodoka back momentarily. She parsed it for meaning and the conclusion her thoughts returned was unsettling, if slightly off target given her audience. She composed her response in a slightly more patient tone. "It is not a token to be bartered and traded."

"Well it's a good thing I ain't one then," The teen rolled her eyes and began to turn away for the sidewalk. "Glad we had this talk. Now if you don't mind…"

"I most certainly do," Nodoka Saotome stepped in front of the girl, cutting off her escape with a stern look. "Not only is it beyond the bounds of feminine propriety, it borders upon theft. Does the fact that you swindle goods by preying on the weaknesses of men not sit upon your conscious at all?"

The redhead blinked, unsure of what to make of the woman's forward attitude. She stared, then glanced at the old man behind the grill. He was just as dumbfounded and continued to watch the drama play out before his stand. She glanced back and forth once more before settling on an answer with a shrug.

"Can't say that it does."

With that, the girl picked another vector to walk away, only to have pain blossom on her right ear. Nodoka's hand flashed out and snatched at the girl's lobe, pulling her back. Painfully.

"YOW! Hey! OW! What the hell!?"

"Well it most certainly sits upon mine," Nodoka snapped and reeled the flailing girl back in. Her tone was now all business as she took her charge to task. "A young lady should not flaunt her body in such a manner. A young lady should not use her charms for such frivolity. A young lady should not use her influence to disadvantage others…"

"You're a crazy old bat is what you-OW, Dammit!"

"A young lady should not cuss and use obscenities in public!" The woman gave the ear another tug to bring the girl to heel. The teen stared hatefully at her now and Nodoka returned the stare imperviously, determined to continue the lesson. Finally she released the sore ear and gestured to the vendor. "First you will repay this kind man for his trouble. Then we shall speak of your parents. I'm quite certain they will be interested in your mischief."

"Yeah, well fat chance of that," The girl grumbled sourly as she rubbed her sore ear. She gave Nodoka one last scornful look before her eyes suddenly popped wide open. "Look! There they are now!"

Both Nodoka and the vendor looked, scanning the sidewalk for the parental units in question. Only a handful of salarymen occupied the immediate street and the woman turned back to question the girl further…

...And she was gone.

Her head whipped back and forth, but the girl and her crop of red hair had effectively vanished off the face of the Earth. Her brow furrowed with frustration. "That… that… that urchin!"

The old man behind the grill simply maintained his dumbfounded look until Nodoka herself sighed, turning to him. She dug around her small purse and pulled a few tan slips of paper from it, projecting tired patience at him. "What does she owe you?"

"Crazy old lady."

Three blocks and several streets away, Ranma likewise grumbled her frustration as she transited the top of a chain link fence without want or care for a destination now that her favorite pastimes in the body she wore had been so thoroughly interrupted. The redhead massaged the lingering ache of her left ear while continuing to mentally disparage a certain kimono clad woman. Who was she? Where did she come from?

'What the hell was she thinkin?' Ranma huffed internally at the injustice of having her snacking activities brought to a screeching halt by some old bat she didn't even know.

'Goddamn Miss Manners,' She rolled her eyes with the sarcasm while another portion of her intellect laughed bitterly at the woman's fixation on proper feminine behavior.

"Yeah, like that's gonna happen," The martial artist commented to nobody in particular before hopping off the fence, pausing to take stock of what was left of the day. First beaten by the old man, then reprimanded by some old bitty. Ranma sighed, flipping a strand of her shoulder length hair back behind her as she considered her next course of action. The old woman she really couldn't do anything about.

'Unless she's some secret grand master with that katana of hers,' Ranma speculated doubtfully before turning to the problem she could do something about: Her father. And the only way to go about it was training.

'Pandas first, dragons later,' the redhead decided, and began to backtrack a block to what looked to be an idle construction site. She hopped the concrete barricade easily enough, ignoring the various warning signs as she instinctively sought a good starting point. The initial premise sounded easy enough, but the proverbial devil was in the details. Training was great and all, but what she was training against wasn't. She was training against a real, bonafide stealth technique that her father had pulled out his ass just to prove a point.

It also begged the original question: What elsewas he hiding?

'All kinds of crap,' Ranma acknowledged and began to piece together what he did know about the encounter. Her eyes studied the dirt at her feet as she began to recall the Tendo courtyard and the fight with near eidetic memory. 'No footprints after he disappeared, no sound. Complete erased his presence… but the ki…?'

That was the key. Somehow her father had erased every trace of the movement from her senses, but its execution had left a single telltale sign. The chi left in the aftermath was all but tangible, as if Genma Saotome had exuded it like… like…

'...Like a cloak?' The martial artist theorized, wondering just how a cloak of chi would be rendered to effectively erase one's existence from the world. Even more disturbing were the implications that went with the idea; that her father really was capable of projecting ki into open air. While she knew how to internalize it for techniques, being able to actually manifest it externally hadn't even occurred to her…

...until now.

She let the Tendo courtyard fade from her mind's eye and turned her study to her seemingly delicate hands. The main problem lay in the fact that she didn't even know where to begin and she doubted the old man would help her…

'…Or rather help me enough to matter,' Ranma corrected herself doubtfully. Sure he would help. He would also draw it out as much as possible while trying to push the marriage the entire time.

'That ain't happening,' the redhead decided firmly, closing down that particular avenue of assistance, as well as any possible marital relations with one Akane Tendo. It also left her to piece his technique together herself, and Ranma turned her thoughts to what she did know about her father's use of chi. The first, most obvious thing was that it rendered him invisible, but how it actually did so was open to debate. Did it bend light around him? Or subtly mess with a person's senses?

'Shampoo didn't see him either, which means it either screws with light or it's a wide area sensory technique.' Ranma worked through the dilemma and moved on to the next obvious aspect of technique. 'No trace on the ground or sound to give him away. Maybe he's using the chi to smooth out his movements? Something to do with friction?'

It wasn't much, but it was a start; a yard stick as to what was theoretically possible if she achieved the same mastery. Regardless, it all began with a kata and that's what Ranma did, stepping into a graceful martial arts dance of applied knowledge. This particular session was dedicated to her father and focused on the potential to counter attacks from any direction with minimal notice. The redhead gracefully pivoted and leapt across the construction site, intent on diverting attacks from unusual vectors.

Practice also helped the martial artist think, and the possibilities that externally projected ki presented her were staggering. Between light and friction alone, the environment open to potential manipulation was enormous. If sensory input was on the table as well, it would potentially skew the odds of any fight drastically in her favor before it even began.

Ranma jumped through a somersault, her inverted kick slashing through the air in an effort to take out an imaginary attacker behind her. That imaginary attacker just happened to have the face of her father. The kata would only get her so far, however. If she could imagine it, he could potentially do it. Against that, there was only one practice milestone that mattered now- Projecting realized chi into open air.

The Saotome spun around, pulled back a punch and gathered the ki in her gut as she had been taught by her father since childhood before releasing it into her arm. Ranma thrust her open palm outward, as if to strike an opponent but pulled the punch at the last minute in an attempt to will the chi further beyond her reach…

...And nothing happened.

Ranma froze, her arm outstretched with little more than air in her grasp. The initial disappointed faded as quickly as it surfaced. Martial arts was replete with failures and she had long since developed a healthy immunity to them. She met the challenge with a shrug.

'And if it were that easy, I'd be tripping over chi slingers left and right,' The redhead rationalized, then redoubled her efforts from within the kata. The minutes melted into one another as she attacked, countered and attempted conjure chi from thin air. The thin air would have none of it however, and sometime later, fatigue finally began to wear the panting Saotome down. Ranma took her final few steps and stilled, allowing her body to calm while thinking on the matter.

Tired.

A kata didn't usually do that, but compressing chi over and over and over again for no apparent gain was taxing her considerable endurance. The teen's gaze traced the scaffolding of the half completed building she had been practicing in the shadow of. She sniffed her indifference at the thought of failure then produced a slight smile with the thought. '...Just means I'm that much closer to success.'

Satisfied with the rationalization, Ranma turned back to the entrance to the construction site to make her exit…

...And found nearly fifteen construction workers staring at her in awe.

"Uh," The long haired girl stumbled verbally as their wide eyes tracked her. Ranma grinned weakly, gesturing back to the construction site. "It's, um, all yours, I guess."

The sweaty, clinging silk of her red Chinese top may have contributed to the staring as well. With that, she hopped over the nearest wall as if it were a minor inconvenience and disappeared. Work on the construction site didn't begin for another ten minutes.

Nabiki Tendo rarely misjudged people.

She was, in fact, a shrewd judge of character; a skill that served her well when it came to profiting off the circumstance and misfortune of others. It helped her exploit those weaknesses and know when and where to draw the line in the said exploitation, yet she was also intelligent enough to admit when she was wrong. She had been wrong about the Saotomes.

That in itself wasn't quite accurate. While she had only seen glimpses of the man's character over the last three months, the Ice Queen of Furinkan was quite certain that Genma Saotome was the closest thing to human flotsam a man walking upright could be. No, it wasn't the father she had been wrong about; it was his son. Or daughter.

'Depending on the weather,' Nabiki chuckled to herself and watched a large white truck back into position alongside the property gates. Nevertheless, she had been wrong. Somehow the martial artist was not her father's child. Ranma Saotome was ruthless, intelligent and most importantly, had rich friends. The truck began to disgorge movers, who rapidly relocated to the back loading door to unlock and open it while the person she assumed was their supervisor singled her out.

'Wonder what today's gift will be,' the middle Tendo sister mused as the man with the clipboard stepped up to her. The first gift had been the gym set. After that, a high end computer setup. Three days ago the dojo itself had almost become an art gallery, all courtesy of one Kodachi Kuno. And every last gift had been rebuffed. Having wealth delivered into her very arms and then pulled away was wearing on the Mercenaries' patience, however.

Hopefully she could do something about that today with Ranma's absence.

"Would you happen to know where I could find Miss Saotome?"

"Oh, she's out for the moment," Nabiki supplied smoothly, attempting to emote genuine sincerity for the man asking the question. "Can I help you with something?"

"A rather large delivery, it would appear," The foreman gestured over his shoulder just at the truck's cargo door opened to reveal a number of large boxes inside. "Unfortunately it requires her signature. Do you know when she'll be back?"

"Not really. I do live with her, however," The Ice Queen continued to work the goodwill angle. "She's like a sister to me. Maybe I can sign for it?"

The lead seemed to roll the idea around in his head as a ramp was set out from the trucks cargo hold. Three workers waited patiently for their bosses' go ahead. Another moment passed and he shrugged, remanding the clipboard to her custody. A pen followed and he pointed to the sheet. "Sign there, there and there."

Nabiki began to scribble her signature dutifully, occasionally glancing up as the workers began the unloading process. Curiosity got the better of her and finally worked its way past the helpful girlfriend act. "What am I signing for, anyway?"

"Full entertainment center," The boss commented as he retook custody of the clipboard. "Top of the line stuff. The speaker setup alone probably cost more than that Toyota across the street."

Nabiki's gaze snapped over to the sporty white Toyota Celica across the street, then back to the boxes being rolled out onto the sidewalk. Somehow she suppressed the girlish squeal and simply nodded as it the delivery of high end goods were merely a fact of life. "I'm sure she'll be quite pleased when she-"

"Send it back."

The female voice interrupted her thoughts, rudely shattering Nabiki's dreams of wealth. Her head snapped to the left, acquiring the redhead walking past the truck with a bug-eyed look. "WHAT?!"

Even the foreman blinked as Ranma turned her attention upon him with a single question. "Kodachi Kuno, right?"

"Er, yes, but…" The man stuttered, only to have his thought preempted by the girl he was actually delivering to.

"Send it back," She insisted, gesturing to the boxes. Only three had managed to depart the truck prior to her intervention. Everybody stared, but the girl remained insistent. "Don't want 'em, don't need 'em."

"You can't be serious!?" Nabiki finally exploded as the last several weeks of denial finally burst like a dam. She started by pointing to defense exhibit 'A' across the street. "It's a home entertainment system! The speakers alone cost more than that car over there! Even if you don't like movies, we could sell it all off for some serious yen!"

Ranma favored her with a bland look. "Does it look like I even care?"

Taken literally, Nabiki could plainly see Ranma Saotome's face was the antithesis of caring. It was, in fact, barely veiled contempt, but that wasn't the point. The point was that she was once again shrugging off hundreds of thousands worth of yen as if it didn't mean a damn thing to her. To say it was starting to get on the middle sister's nerves was a vast understatement.

"How can you not?!" Nabiki blurted thoughtlessly, now heedless of the audience waiting for a decisive outcome as to whether the equipment stayed or went. "If she's willing to just throw expensive gifts at you, who are we to stop her?!"

The redhead merely stared dispassionately at her as she continued her entreaty. "Do you even realize what a gold mine this is? You could keep this going for weeks if you play it right! A gift here, a gift there. Turn the ones you don't like around for cash! Like that statue there!"

As soon as she said it, Nabiki blinked, her face taking on a queer expression as if only just realizing what she had said. Ranma's eyes widened as she followed the Ice Queen's gesture to a flatbed truck pulling parallel to their sidewalk. Upon it rode a statue. Nabiki stared dumbfounded at the reflective bronze skin of a Samurai in full armor riding a warhorse into battle. She quickly placed the famous scene it depicted.

The sister shook her head, as if the act were likely to dispel the vision before her, then turned to Ranma, still unsure of the conclusion she had arrived at. "Kodachi Kuno commissioned a reproduction of the Statue of Kusunoki Masashige for you?"

As if on cue, the driver of the truck leaned out, taking a quick study of both girls before settling on the redhead. "Ranma Saotome?"

This time, a small twitch took hold of Ranma's cheek.

"Wait!" Nabiki plead with outstretched hands, having saw the tick and now clenched fist for herself. "We can resell that too!"

Her words were barely registering with the martial artist, however. Ranma stared at the statue for another long moment before turning her back to it to walk away. Nabiki watched, somewhat surprised no order to countermand its delivery had been issued, nor did she make the expected turn through the gates of the Tendo property. The redhead simply kept walking.

"Uh, Saotome?" Nabiki hastened to follow, hoping to find out what was going through the neo-girls mind. "Where are you going?"

The redhead took a few more steps then stopped. She turned back to view Nabiki with a no-nonsense look that told the Ice Queen everything she needed to know. The martial artist flicked an unkept crimson lock back over her shoulder.

"I'm gonna put a stop to this."

Her stare back at Nabiki Tendo lasted a hair too long for the sibling's comfort, as if inviting her to challenge the decree. The Ice Queen had seen that look before, however, and a simple, compliant nod was all she could respond with. Ranma was already walking by the time it was produced, leaving Nabiki Tendo alone with a super expensive, high end entertainment center and an authentic reproduction of the same statue that sat outside Tokyo Imperial Palace.

Datura stramonium.

Most people would mistake the creamy, lavender flower and it's green, leafy stalks for a member of the lily family. Its trumpeting structure was certainly pleasing enough to the eye; enough so that the unsuspecting layman might easily assume it to be quite innocuous in nature. The prickly seed pods produced by the plant weren't nearly as attractive, and perhaps more accurately represented the shrub's more sinister nature. It was, by and large, toxic. Mishandling or ingesting any part of its structure was capable of producing delirium, behavior aberrations, photosensitivity, and even amnesia.

Kodachi Kuno was aiming for the amnesia.

The black haired girl smiled with the thought as she worked the soil around the base of the Datura stem, fertilizing the area with gloved care. Unlike the unsuspecting layman, she was well aware of what the plant growing contently in her garden was capable of and what it would take to achieve the desired results. In a few more days, it would be ready to be pruned, then processed. And after that, it would all be fine again. The angst of recent events would be a distant memory for one Ranma Saotome and she would have her friend back…

…One way or another.

Crunch!

The unnatural sound of a meaty impact drifted to Kodachi Kuno's ears, prompting minor pause in her gardening pursuits. She glanced out to the thicket of trees that resided beyond the well-manicured concourse of their property, noticing nothing out of the ordinary. Even if something were to intrude, the traps would certainly have their way with whatever it was. She smirked to herself as a humor took the place of actual concern. '…If a tree falls in a forest, indeed.'

The second, louder crunch erased the humor as quickly as it had surfaced. This time a flock of birds were disturbed from their roost and took to the sky, squawking their discontent. It was enough to cause the Kuno sibling to rise from her haunches and discard the gardener's gloves in order to face the disturbance. She smoothed out her black on black dress and waited for another full minute before a splash was heard. A garbled, monstrous hiss quickly followed and Kodachi smiled once more. Somebody had just upset Mister Turtle.

'Perhaps I should summon the help to assist our poor victim?' The gymnast rolled the altruistic thought around before her more pernicious nature countermanded it. 'Though Mister Turtle does love his games of—'

"GrrrrFFFphss!"

The reptilian squeal brought Kodachi's train of thought to a halt and she cocked her head curiously in order to comprehend the new sound. She didn't have long to do so before the giant alligator lurched from the tree line at a full run, or as close as it could manage with the stumpy legs better suited for aquatic environments. The girl's eyes narrowed and she reached behind her back to pull out the radio trigger to Mister Turtle's collar, only to watch the massive reptile alter its course. It ran past and then sidled up behind her. Kodachi's finger continued to rest on the button, but now she couldn't help but to stare as its large muzzle stared back up at her with wide, slitted eyes.

Mister Turtle was afraid.

Movement attracted the green reptile's attention and its muzzle swung back on target, snapping a warning with its large jaws. Its tail curled protectively around the teenager, who in turn looked up to find what had spooked the alligator so badly. Her answer came the moment she sighted the lone figure emerging from the tree line. Petite stature. Red hair. Chinese silks. Her clothing was ruffled and wet, but the girl walking toward them was unmistakably Ranma Saotome. Her gait seemed unconcerned, but there was an unamused look on the redhead's face that told Kodachi Kuno she was here on business.

It was also a confrontation she was not prepared for, but put a pleasant smile forth regardless. "Ranma-chan. How nice of you to—"

"Stop it."

Kodachi blinked as Ranma delivered the ultimatum, stopping just outside of her personal space. It was also not the ultimatum she had expected and the gymnast all but mimed her words, failing to comprehend them. She took an uncertain glance back at the flowers she had been tending, then back the martial artist.

"Stop… what?"

"You ain't takin' the hint, so I'm here to deliver the message personally," Kodachi watched, taken aback as any trace of the girl's cool demeanor dissolved into animated distemper. Mister Turtle snapped back in reply, only to receive a withering stare from the martial artist. The alligator retreated back behind Kodachi with a hiss and Ranma returned her attention to the black haired girl. "I don't want your gifts, I don't want your crap. I don't want any of it, so just stop already."

The force of the rebuke left Kodachi blinking, forcing her brain to dissect the many angles from which her intellect was assaulted. The spectacular failure of the gifts was first and foremost on her mind. Buying her way back into Ranma's good graces was certainly an end to those means, but with them constantly being returned, it had turned into a delaying action… and by all accounts, a failing one.

"They're… not to your liking?" She postulated a theory in response to the many questions on her mind, only to come up short against the girls temper again.

"Are you serious?" The redhead stared at the girl as if she had grown a second head. "You're not hearing-!"

"My crimson goddess!" The loud proclamation shattered Ranma's thoughts, interrupting any rebuke the martial artist had in mind. Her eyes snapped to the speaker who had all but plowed through a boundary of shrubs to enter the garden, arms opened wide to embrace her. "I come to console yooooOOF!"

The knee to Tatewake's stomach sucked any consolation straight out of his lungs, folding the upperclassman over her knee. She let the largely inert kendoist slide off her leg coughing, her gaze never leaving Kodachi.

"Such... a… supple... thigh…"

"What part of this don't you understand?" Ranma continued, ignoring the wheezing boy while shaking her head irritably. Kodachi continued watch in utter fascination. "I'm not for sale. I don't want your crap. You might be able to buy your other friends off, but not me."

Never had The Black Rose witnessed the failure of money to positively correct a situation until this very moment. One simply applied the monetary compensation necessary to fix the problem. It was a tried and true social cure-all… Until she had met this girl. And boy. To Kodachi Kuno, it was absolutely stunning that such a person even existed. It was also a revelation…

…A largely unwelcome revelation.

It was a revelation that shined an unwelcome light on her own social inadequacies, and Kodachi's head dropped, her gaze sadly lowering to the grass at her feet.

"You would be the only one," The Black Rose admitted softly, her tone barely audible to the girl before her. After a moment, a sad smile found its way back up at her and the gymnast stepped forward, surprising Ranma by embracing her in a gentle, heartfelt hug. "Thank you."

"What? Hey. Hey!"

The potentially compromising girl-girl interaction didn't even register as the act alone left the Saotome sputtering, barely comprehending what had just happened. Still, Kodachi clung to her, burying her head into the crook of her shoulder with a sniffle that Ranma was powerless to shrug off, let alone struggle against. After several more sniffles, Ranma found her hands reluctantly dropping around the girl to comfort her. They stood that way for several long minutes at the center of Kodachi's garden until the Kuno sibling pulled away. She pulled a handkerchief from a dress pocket to dab several tears from her cheek.

The alligator at her back simply stared, its cocked head trying to contemplate what was happening.

"I… I've never been good with… friends," Kodachi admitted as she began to walk, picking a path through the garden. After a few steps, she turned, finding Ranma rooted in place without expression. She offered her hand and Ranma stared, then sighed, reluctantly allowing Kodachi to take hers. The Kuno sibling nodded with a gentle smile and led her companion back to the mansion while continuing their weighty conversation. "Those problems that I couldn't help, there was always financial leverage."

"Or gifts," Ranma disparaged, but followed the girl back through the mansion door regardless.

"Or gifts," Kodachi acknowledged. She paused as they passed one of the servant girls. The woman clad in a classic, black and white French maid outfit was busy dusting a bookshelf, but bowed upon noticing the Kuno heir. Kodachi, in turn, added to her chores.

"Mister Turtle has wandered astray in the garden," The Black Rose advised, gesturing out the back door as if the task were as simple as sweeping the floor. "Please have him returned to the pond... And retrieve my brother if you should happen across him."

"Eh, yes Mistress," The servant smiled weakly, obviously none too thrilled about the prospect of rounding up the giant reptile.

Her hesitation was lost on the Kuno, however, who continued to add to her workload. "And dinner. Ma-chan will be joining us tonight."

The affectionate title perked Ranma's ears and she favored Kodachi with a skeptical look. "I never said I was your friend."

"You never said you weren't," The gymnast eyed her redhead companion smugly as the maid set about her assignments. "Besides, your mention of my other friends distinctly implies that I remain yours."

"You're not gonna apologize, are ya?" Ranma rolled her eyes, but the slightest grin had crept along her lips. Kodachi's own remained for a moment before lapsing into back into a pensive, if neutral expression.

"Apologies have never been my forte. I reacted… poorly to your revelation," She continued the more serious note of their conversation where it had left off. "The gifts were an inadequate substitute."

"Got that right," Ranma grumbled, but frowned herself. "Not that I was exactly what you would call receptive. Me and the curse… I've got issues. The hair ain't helpin' I guess…"

Kodachi merely nodded, accepting the explanation silently. After a moment, she broke the pensive silence with a graceful, if impromptu curtsy that caused Ranma to blink. "I don't believe we have been properly introduced. I am Kodachi Kuno, the Black Rose of Saint Bacchus. How do you do?"

It took a moment for Ranma to catch on, but a lopsided grin found her face when she finally did so. "Ranma Saotome, heir to the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts. Nice ta meet you…" She paused, as if forgetting something. "Oh, and I got this curse. A couple, actually..."

"Posh," The gymnast brushed by the admission with a physical wave of the hand, offering her left one to the martial artist. "I'm sure we'll get along famously."

Ranma nodded in agreement, taking the hand without hesitation. "And I'm thinking you might just be right… Ko-chan."

A companionable silence fell across the pair as both acknowledge that something right had just happened, even if only subconsciously. The moment passed with the return of the maid, who gathered their attention by softly clearing her throat.

"My apologies, Mistress," The brunette inserted herself carefully into the moment with a low bow. "Master Kuno and Mister Turtle are currently engaged in a scuffle. Something concerning 'the devouring of his scarlet goddess' if I recall correctly. Shall I start dinner without him?"

"I FIGHT ON, FIENDISH LIZARD!"

The battle cry echoed through the open back door, prompting ambivalent look from the black haired girl. "Indeed. It sounds as if brother of mine will be preoccupied for an indeterminate length of time. What say you, Ma-chan?"

"I say food now." Ranma smirked. "We can always rescue him later... if we feel like it."

Kodachi mirrored her amusement with a relaxed smile, then turned back to the maid in waiting. "Then we shall celebrate. French cuisine. Surprise us."

The woman bowed once more and left the pair to advise the kitchen staff. Ranma chuckled slightly, earning Kodachi's undivided attention. The redhead supplied the punchline for her. "At least ya didn't say Chinese food."

"Oh?" The St. bacchus girl prompted, sensing a tale behind the comment as she lead her redheaded companion deeper into the mansion. Kodachi glanced back to Ranma with an inquisitive look. "I was under the impression you were enamored by the culture…?"

"Let's just say it's wearin' out its welcome," Ranma answered as she was lead past a butler in full tuxedo. The older man bowed to them in turn before they rounded the hallway corner that opened up into a grand living room. The redhead's head found itself on a swivel as she absorbed the opulence represented in the space they had just entered. Chandeliers. Oversized and undeniably comfortable looking furnishings. A giant TV.

Kodachi invited her over to the large, spacious couch to continue the conversation. Ranma settled in next to the girl without a second thought, all but sinking into its cushions and relieving any remaining soreness from the morning's encounter with her father. Her head rolled right to sight her black haired friend. "Anyway, remember that Shampoo chick I mentioned...?"

"The barbaric Amazon, as I recall?" The black haired girl tilted her head in recollection as the same butler from the hall stepped in, this time bearing a silver tray with two porcelain cups of steaming tea and small, delicate looking cakes. The conversation continued as the two girls caught up, talking and laughing like the unlikely friends they were. The minutes slipped past and soon their conversation migrated to the formal dining room. It was just as ostentatious as the last living room, manned by no less than four eager to please waiters.

While the opulence alone was enough to make Ranma self-conscious, the company made it bearable. As did the food. It was the redhead's first exposure to the wine and cheese fusion known as Fondu, and it was adventure in and of itself; experimenting with the different foods that could be dipped therein. The long stemmed forks were a bit of an oddity but as Kodachi had explained, it was a cultural nicety in keeping with the atmosphere of their dining.

Ranma shrugged and happily used the implement to inflict further French cuisine casualties.

As of the moment, however, that same fork was being idly twirled between the redhead's fingers as she considered her friend's own situation with a confused look.

"…but another gymnastics match?" Ranma posed the question, her interest piqued with the news. Kodachi nodded, as if the matter was well beneath her.

"Midori High this time," The black haired girl sighed, as if the very prospect bored her. Ranma's expression turned to one of confusion, so she supplied an answer to the unspoken question. "They represent a thoroughly amateur program at best. How they were able to beat Noamoni High to challenge us in the rankings is beyond me."

"Dumb luck?" Ranma postulated the theory with a shrug. "Happens every now and then. Either that or too much showboating by the competition."

"Perhaps," Kodachi nodded in agreement. "In either case, I expect it to be just as dull as Miss Tendo's match."

"Minus the pig?" The redhead grinning. Kodachi smiled likewise at the shared joke.

"Most definitely." The Kuno sibling smirked, though her cheer dimmed a fraction. "Though the Women's Tagteam Finals have always represented a hurdle for our team."

"Tagteam?" Ranma eyed her friend curiously, then relieved a piece of cheese coated beef from the fork she was holding. She savored the flavorful explosion in her mouth before pressing for clarification. "What's the problem there?"

"While I can be assured of my own performance, the same can't be said for my St. Bacchus contemporaries." Kodachi shook her head, leaning back into her own padded dining room chair. "Simply put, they do not hold the gymnastic arts in the same regard as I."

"It's tough bein' the best." The martial artist nodded in agreement. She considered targeting another morsel from the decorated silver platter, but cocked her head in pause before forking it. "Speakin' of being the best, I'm gonna have to find a way to beat my old man down if I'm gonna get any closer to findin' a hair cure."

"I'm sure I could acquire something creative from the garden to dispatch him with…?" The Black Rose put her finger to her lip in contemplation, only to watch the girl across from her shake her head without enthusiasm.

"Much as he probably deserves whatever's in your garden, he's right," The redhead frowned. "I hate to admit it, but if I can't beat him, how the hell am I gonna beat a dragon?"

Even as she considered the topic, the head butler and three maids filed in to the room to collect the silver trays from them. A slight look of alarm found its way to Ranma's face and she pinpointed one last cube of tender meat with the fork, snatching it off the plate before being relieved of it. The black haired maid merely smiled and held the molten cheese bowl out for her. The neogirl smiled in kind and gratefully took the opportunity to dip the fork one last time.

"From anybody else, I would attribute the notion of a dragon as unnecessary hyperbole." Kodachi arched an eyebrow, still somewhat skeptical of the existence of such creatures. She relinquished her own setting to the maids even as Ranma smirked back at her.

"You got an alligator the size of a bus in your pond, Ko-chan. What's not to believe?" She deadpanned, jabbing a thumb in the general direction of the yard beyond the room's walls. Even as Kodachi stifled a polite giggle, Ranma's amused expression gain a thoughtful measure. "Say, maybe I should spar with him for practice…"

"I dare say you've traumatized Mister Turtle enough," The Black Rose chuckled, rising up from her position, gesturing to her friend to follow. Ranma rocked forward out of the chair and hopped up, following the girl out into the hall as she continued. "That said, if you would still like my assistance with The Blow of a Thousand Hands…?"

Kodachi waited as the question hung unanswered for what seemed like an eternity to her. It was, of course, more than an offer of assistance. It was validation; a yard stick as to how much had truly been forgiven. As improbable as it seemed, perhaps she had found that singular person that didn't require drugs, monetary compensation or coercion to simply be her—

"If you think I'm passin' up a technique like that, you're nuts."

The silent breath she had been holding slipped as relief filled the void of uncertainty. This was friendship. It was still a foreign concept to the Kuno heir, but discernable nonetheless. She held her friend's gaze for a moment before favoring her with confident smile. Ranma turned a smirk back at her and the pair continued down the hall as Kodachi returned to the subject of techniques.

"Perhaps tomorrow, if you're free." It was less a question this time, if only because the answer had already been given. Ranma nodded in kind.

"Don't see why not, bein' Sunday and all." The redheaded teen shrugged easily while catching a glimpse of one of the picture windows beyond. Dusk had faded to night, and the Kuno's well-groomed property was now tastefully lit. Ranma glanced back at her friend. "Better be getting home though. Any later and I might as well sleep over, y'know?"

She had meant it as a joke.

Somehow it wasn't taken as one.

"What an excellent idea!" Kodachi clapped her hands together, all too pleased with the idea. The martial artist was left blinking as the gymnast suddenly snapped her hand up and began to lead insistently. She glanced back at Ranma with energetic smile. "You simply must stay the night. I'll have Hiroko prepare the room immediately."

"I… ah… it's…" Ranma was left to stammer, too stunned to retake her hand as Kodachi led her back to the kitchen where another maid in her frilly black and white uniform was found directing the efforts of the others. Even as she was pulled in, the redhead continued to find excuses. "But, um, I don't have a change any clothes ya know? Don't want to get your stuff dirty and all!"

"Hiroko-chan, Ma-chan will be staying the night." Kodachi advised, eliciting a polite nod from the head maid. "I will see to her night wear, but her clothing will require service."

"Of course, Mistress Kuno." The brunette bowed respectfully before nodding to Ranma with a gentle smile. "I'll ensure their pickup and cleanliness, Miss."

"I don't think I've ever had anybody stay for the night…" The black haired girl admitted wistfully as she led Ranma from the kitchen. She turned back with a perplexed expression as they walked. "To be honest, I am not even sure what to do."

Ranma simply shook her head, having never hosted anybody herself and now at a complete loss as the Saint Bacchus student supplied her own answers. "Perhaps a movie? I hear they are customary during these sort of events."

The next door was Kodachi's very bedroom. She opened the door and the lights flicked on of their own accord. Ranma's attention was briefly torn from the quagmire of obligation she now found herself wallowing through in favor of the room itself. It was classically decorated with tasteful wood furniture, what looked like a mammoth study desk and another pair of doors. A king sized bed dominated the space, trailing black and pink streamers from the headboard to flow across the room above their very heads.

Though Ranma had few samples to compare it to, it most certainly was not Akane's bedroom. In fact, the redhead was certain that the space of all three of the Tendo sister's bedrooms could fit within the one she stood. Various stuffed animals lay piled in the room's corner, but even as a guy, Ranma could tell they were present merely as decoration, as if present only because they were expected of the girl she stood beside.

Finally her hand was free, leaving Ranma to blink at it, then watch the gymnast stride to one of the double doors along the opposite wall, opening them. It was a giant walk-in closet into which she disappeared, returning a moment later with a purple night gown in hand. Ranma's eyes nearly bugged from their sockets as Kodachi's fingers traced the buttons of her dress, undoing them without preamble.

Ranma looked away hastily, shaking her head in panic. "I'm a guy, remember?!"

"You're my friend, Ma-chan." Kodachi responded softly. The Saotome felt a pair of slide around her waist, pulling her into a hug. The nervous redhead glanced into the mirror to find Kodachi already in her nightgown, leaning into her smaller frame with a wistful smile. "I trust you."

Ranma swallowed hard, but nodded. Any further misgivings seemed trivial in the face of that declaration—even patronizing in her world view. Friendship was not a token to be played with and bartered. It was precious. Valuable. And an amazingly rare thing in her life. The redhead found it impossible to trivialize with some inane objection.

Kodachi felt the tension leave the neogirl's body and she smiled, withdrawing from the embrace. Ranma still looked nervous, but that was fine. They were both new to this, after all. She gestured to the closet, returning to it. "You like silk, I take it?"

Another objection lodged itself sideways in her throat. On average, Ranma did like silk. It looked good and was fairly durable. In the context Kodachi was referring to, however, the redhead was certain that she wouldn't like silk.

At all.

"I guess?" Ranma admitted weakly, watching as Kodachi disappeared back into the closet.

"What color?" Her friend's voice queried unseen. The sound of hangers being sifted through could be heard while the redhead fought the urge to bolt. "I have light blue, pink, green, pastel-"

"Eh, got anything in black?" Ranma preempted Kodachi's search before she could be plied with some hideously girly color. Yes, it would still be girl's clothing but at least the color would be manly. The Tendos and their attempts to dress her came to mind, eliciting a shiver through the diminutive girl.

Kodachi returned to the closet entrance with a knowing smile. "It's one of my favorite colors too. I think I have just the thing."

Ranma watched the girl disappear again with a growing pit in her stomach. Nobody ever told her friendship would be such hard work.

Sunlight.

It nagged at her unconscious even as her groggy intellect insisted she turn over and go back to sleep. So she did. A contented smile etched its way across Ranma Saotome's sleepy face as she burrowed deeper into the pillow. Never before had she slept in a bed so soft and comfortable; such that a few more minutes of slumber was hardly out of the question. Her sleepy intellect indulged in the soft covers and the warm body wrapped around hers, prompting the redheaded martial artist to snuggle deeper into the embrace. After all the crap she had been through over the past week, her sleepy brain decided it deserved to sleep in with…

Ranma's eyes instantly popped open.

…To sleep in with Kodachi. Panic knifed through the fog of lethargy as the previous night was recalled in piecemeal. A soft snore burbled in her ear, assuring the martial artist that neither the sleepover nor the body molded to her spine was a dream. In spite of the compromising situation, the martial artist fought to will calm through her thoughts. Everything was fine. So to speak. Everything was fine insofar as two friends enjoying one another's company in the most platonic way possible, except for the fact that she was still a guy… If only on the inside at the moment.

The neogirl edged her hand up and slowly shifted Kodachi's arm from around her shoulder. A pillow sufficed as a replacement while Ranma simultaneously worked herself away without waking her friend. Sufficiently separated, Ranma slowly rocked off the bed with a yawn, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The room around her was a testament to last night's activities. Her eyes swept across the mostly eaten bucket of popcorn, now featuring little more than the sheen of butter oil and a handful of unpopped kernels. Two glasses with straws sat next to them containing a pinkish residue. Kodachi called them 'smoothies,' but more than that, it was almost criminal how her own female taste buds had delighted in the strawberry and banana fusion.

Past the foot of the bed was the large screen TV Kodachi had wheeled in, complete with high end speakers and a four head VCR, which meant virtually nothing to Ranma save that the entire setup undoubtedly cost a lot of money. A stack of movies had accompanies it, though they had only watched one. At first she feared the night would be spent watching chick flicks and the sleeve of the movie that Kodachi had insisted upon did nothing to dissuade that fear. Its empty jacket still sat next to the TV remote, featuring the washed out picture of a woman's face and a brownish-yellow moth covering her mouth.

Suffice to say, 'Silence of the Lambs' was not a chick flick.

The redhead ambled past the entertainment center only to catch movement out of the corner of her eye as she neared the closet. A mirror. Ranma turned fully toward it and sighed. The image reflected therein was certainly her female aspect in the black silk she had asked for, just not nearly as masculine as she had hoped for. The sleeveless spaghetti strap top she wore, for example, was chased with lace along the neckline and sized for Kodachi's bust, not her own. As such, the ordinarily conservative pajama top became a naughty midriff. The hips of the silk trousers likewise strained to a degree that showed off her figure, but her friend's long legs meant that the cuffs had to be folded up so she wouldn't trip over herself. 'Sexy flirt' all but described the girl frowning at herself in the mirror and yet this particular offering was the lesser of all of the other evils hiding within Kodachi's closet.

She had thankful managed to opt out of the lacey panties that were offered.

Ranma shook her head in disappointment, then caught sight of the other abnormality: Her hair. Kodachi had braided it while they had sat in bed, eating popcorn and watching the movie. Somehow the activity never registered itself as intrusive as Kasumi Tendo's efforts, as if it were something that came naturally while doing something else. She had merely tolerated it at first, but lost track of the effort between the movie and their mutual banter. Now it was an elegant braid stretching down her back much like her pigtail of old, just more competently handled.

Amongst all of the other oddities, its familiarity was reassuring in its own way. Moreover, it was a gesture that acknowledged who she was, not the body she wore.

The girl in the mirror smiled slightly.

The very thought seemed to illicit a yawn from the bed's occupant, drawing Ranma's attention to the stretching form amongst the covers. The redhead politely diverted her gaze, lest she become too interested in the curves being projected through the nightgown. Even through her self-recrimination, the mental comparison was inevitable for the male within. The figure Kodachi cut was… Nice. Not as gifted as Akane or Shampoo or even her own cursed body, but it was athletic and perfect in proportion.

'And that ain't somethin' I need to be thinkin'' Ranma grimaced as her friend began to sleepily extricate herself from the labyrinth of covers and pillows.

"Tsk, sleeping so late…" Kodachi began without preamble as she slid from the bedside. Her lips quirked a slight smile. "You're a bad influence on me, Ma-chan."

The humorous accusation was enough to cut through any weighty introspective the martial artist was holding on to, enabling her to crook a smile of her own and point a finger right on back at her. "Hey, I'm the one that's usually up by dawn. If anybody is the bad influence it's you, Ko-chan."

Another yawn wracked the gymnasts' body and she gestured toward the door even as she moved past Ranma toward the room's master bathroom. "Hiroko is quite reliable. I imagine your clothing is waiting just outside the room."

The martial artist nodded and stepped toward the door, twisting the knob-

"GAH!" Ranma nearly screamed and jumped back a full two meters as disheveled zombie filled the doorway. Its clothing was beaten and torn, while the person beneath them sported numerous scrapes and bruises. It took several moments for her thoughts to catch up with her racing heart and when they did, the association was made instantly. The redhead cocked her head at the taller boy who looked all but ready to fall over on his own. Ranma poked at his chest experimentally as Kodachi watched from over her shoulder. "Kuno?"

"PIGTAILED GIRL! I LIVE!" The upperclassman rasped, his body quivering as if fighting to remain upright. "AGAIN."

ThwAAP!

A massive steel orb comprised of a multitude of colors descended across the back of his head, swiftly delivering unconsciousness to the teen. Tatewake fell to the carpet like a bag of rice, leaving a more female figure behind him.

"Male stay down this time." Shampoo sniffed as she stepped over the comatose boy. She flipped the single chui in hand twirling into nonexistence while proffering a set of neatly folded set of Chinese clothing to Ranma with the other. "He take."

Ranma looked from the clothing to Shampoo, then down to the crumbled mass of Kuno. She sighed, shaking her head as she turned back to Kodachi. "Sorry I killed your brother again."

"Just deserts by the sound of it." Kodachi shrugged, clearly less concerned about her brother. Instead, she scrutinized the lavender clad girl now all but hovering protectively around Ranma. "The Chinese barbarian, I presume?"

"Unfortunately." Ranma sighed. She turned back to the former Amazon with a tired tone. "Come on, Shampoo. We just woke up. Go pester some other martial artist."

"You mistress." Shampoo replied obstinately. Ranma turned back to Kodachi with a plaintiff shrug.

"See what I mean?"

"Perhaps we will find some use for her." The black haired girl replied in a tone that simultaneously managed to convey her boredom with an air of elitism. Ranma watch the remark produce the slightest twitch in Shampoo's left cheek, while the impressed redhead watched her friend all but dismiss the former Amazon's importance with a gesture. "Misbehave and I'm sure Ma-chan will consent to have you put to work in the kitchen."

Shampoo could barely suppress the shiver that wound its way up her spine. Another kitchen. Just how cruel was the person fated to be her master, let alone her malevolent friend? The kitchen was no place for an Amazon; even a disgraced former Amazon such as herself. The punishment was borderline sadistic in nature, and after her last kitchen encounter with vapid Tendo sister, she all but wanted to slit her own wrists.

"And a proper uniform as well." Kodachi continued, chilling the Chinese girl further as the black haired girl appraised her. Kodachi turned back to Ranma. "What do you think, Ma-chan?"

"I think anything that gets her to wanna go home faster is a good thing." Ranma nodded without sympathy while her black haired friend looked entirely too smug for her own good.

"Now I strike."

Ranma's eyes widened in alarm as Kodachi Kuno lunged for her with a single gymnastics baton, threatening to disrupt the pattern she was already working hard to keep airborne. The redhead's eyes tracked the glittering white shaft as its length impinge on her pattern, while a portion of her brain noted that the thrust wasn't particularly aggressive. Even so, it represented a lethal threat to her juggling. The next pin in transit hit the neo girl's palm as gravity claimed it and she used it to bat the encroaching baton away in the toss from right to left. Kodachi smiled her approval and poked at her juggling pattern from a different angle, forcing Ranma to hastily intercept the stick before it compromised the pins' arc.

Clack! Clack-Clack!

From the mat's edge, Shampoo fidgeted, now dressed head to toe in the black and white of a frilly, ultra-feminine French maid uniform, complete with stockings, oversized bows and a ruffled lace bonnet to crown her purple mane. In fact, she was all but crawling out of her skin with embarrassment, but resigned herself to watch the two leotard clad girls practice like the dutiful servant-girl she now was.

At first it looked like her Mistress was content to perform circus tricks, juggling gymnastics pins while the other judged her form, correcting and commenting on it as they went. In fact, she would have fallen asleep a while ago if not for the ridiculous amount of clubs they insisted on juggling at once. The redhead clad in her jade-green leotard had so far managed fifteen at once in smooth rotation. Her counterpart in the purple leotard had managed twenty, by her count.

Even so, it was still a circus trick… Until the one she had come to identify as Kodachi sought to purposely disrupt her Mistresses efforts. Shampoo's attention perked back up with the first clatter of contact, noting that her redheaded tormentor was in no way displeased with the other girl's effort. She batted the stick away with one of the clubs, then another. Soon, Kodachi's attacks were coming at regular intervals- and if she didn't know any better –a fraction faster with each repetition.

Shampoo watched the pattern falter slightly as her mistress fought to compensate, keeping the pins airborne while simultaneously intercepting the attacks until the baton final produced a critical nudge. The results were catastrophic and pin rained down around the diminutive girl. She watched Ranma punch one hand into the other and proceed to collect the gymnastics pins while her friend commented on her performance. Soon, every pin was in the air again with the baton probing for weaknesses once more. The lavender haired teen cocked her head critically.

'What is the point?' She asked herself as she leaned against the far wall. Her mistress juggled and her friend attacked, forcing her to- Shampoo blinked, suddenly seeing the exercise in a new light: Attack and defense. Speed and numbers. The Chinese teen almost whispered a name aloud. Her mind whirled as she watched two pins fall out of formation while Ranma maintained clumsy control of the rest. The training was different, but she was willing to bet that the end result would be the same:

Kachu Tenshin Amaguriken.

She stared openly now. Her great grandmother had promised to teach her if she won the tournament, a promise side tracked by the fact that she had not won that tournament due to the interference of her Mistress. She knew the basics, however, and fire featured prominently in the training. There was, of course, a trick to it just like every technique, but she would never be learning that trick now.

The rubber clubs tumbled down around the girl's head again, causing her to cringe.

Shampoo smiled inwardly. If they had been blades, her mistress wouldn't have fared so well, which was probably the point of the gymnastics tools to begin with—They could only be handled a certain way efficiently, and the next logical step would be a sword or some form of blade in their place. While she wasn't certain of the end result, her expert eye told her that it would be quite formidable, whatever it was.

"Less clubs, I think." Kodachi commented as Ranma collected her payload from the cushion of the blue mat they practiced upon. The redhead glanced up, shaking her head emphatically.

"Nope, I got this!" Ranma snatched up another club and Kodachi frowned, crossing her arms as she watched the energetic redhead. "One more time!"

"Less clubs." She state imperviously, but watched as her friend began to cycle fifteen clubs regardless.

"Let's go!" The martial artist stated with determined enthusiasm, prompting Kodachi to arch a skeptical eyebrow.

"Very well then." The Black Rose began to juggle her own pins. The corner of her mouth gained a malignant turn. "I attack."

The lesson was short and brutal. Kodachi lunged forward and her clubs flowed forth as if guided by a metaphysical force. The martial artist braced and the rapid staccato of violent plastic contact followed as she applied her fullest measure of speed to the interception…

…If not coordination.

The Black Rose's point was made in under five seconds as her attack saturated Ranma's defenses, stripping the redhead of her clubs until all fifteen were scattered across the gym. The follow-up hit her from everywhere at once, and the next thing Ranma knew she was tumbling across the gym floor, landing flat on her butt in a daze that left her blinking.

Kodachi controlled the retrieval of her own clubs from the air with slight concern as she watched the neogirl rub the various impacts across her body with a look of annoyance. The gymnast worried. Perhaps she had imposed her point with a tad too much zeal. The Black Rose stepped forward with an apology, hoping that she hadn't done anything to damage their renewed friendship.

"Ma-chan, I'm—"

"That wasn't even full power, was it?" The girl rocked back, hopping to her feet as if the fact that her friend had just bludgeoned her to the floor was inconsequential. Kodachi blinked, her train of thought and apology derailed.

"Less than half speed." She admitted and watched Ranma's face blossom into a devil may care grin.

"And you ain't even throwin' pressure points or anything into the mix." The redhead nodded, analyzing the technique as she shuffled around to retrieve her own clubs. The Black Rose cocked her head with the unlikely idea. The girl before her hadn't even mastered the Hand of a Thousand Blows, but she was already modifying the end result just as she had the ribbon technique.

An unlikely idea of her own came to mind as the redhead squared up with her… Minus a handful of pins.

"Less clubs this time." Ranma confirmed with a smile, indicating to her friend that the lesson had been received clearly, and more importantly, without rancor.

The pins were juggled skyward and two girls sparred as if they had been friends their entire life.

Author's Notes— Why this one first instead of that one? The Bad Cut just happened to be where inspiration struck the hardest. Several stories have short term writer's block as a consequence of how I write, and I've only recently began to knock those down through time and opportunity. Several of you were probably wishing for a mainline fic after such a long drought, but I have to strike where the iron is hot, not just when.

Even so, this is one of my favorites to write. Normally I don't have staying power writing through divergent fics, but this one is just off kilter enough to make it fun. For me, at least. For you, it may be one big bucket of Ranma!chan crap, but you know what? I still love you.

Editing nominally done by myself, sorry for your luck. Special thanks to you-know-whos for you-know-whats.