The Evil Midnight Lurker what Lurks at Midnight
in association with
The Insane Banana
presents

Ranma 1/2:

KAKUTÔ SENTAI
ZHÒURANGER

Martial Taskforce CurseRangers

by W. Samuel Ashley


STAGE 1: RELEASE


     It was an exceptionally bad day to be Saotome Ranma.
     Check that.  Make it month, Ranma corrected.  Or maybe I should just go all the way to “lifetime.”  How could I let things go so far?
     From his temporary campsite on the roof of Fûrinkan High, the heir to the Saotome School of Unclassified Martial Arts could see all the way to his erstwhile residence, the Tendô Dôjô; could see, as well, the latest boarded-over hole in its roof…the hole whose creation had spelled D-O-O-M for any hope Ranma had of making peace with Tendô Akane.
     For once, the hole hadn’t been made by a rapidly-leaving Ranma on the receiving end of one of Akane’s crosstown uppercuts.  This was worse.  The victim was Hibiki Ryôga, and the structural flaw marking his percussive exit was right over the furo…the direct result of Akane’s attempt to give her pet piglet a hot bath.
     Ranma shuddered at the memory.  He’d been two blocks away at the time, heading homeward, when the air was shattered by a scream that combined equal parts shock, anger, and betrayal.  Recognizing his fiancée’s voice, he broke into a run…only to stop dead in his tracks as the roof erupted and Ryôga, soaking wet and already building up a visible angst-aura, was lofted in the general direction of Roppongi.
     The secret was out.
     Ranma tried to brazen it out, hoping that Akane hadn’t guessed the whole truth…that he’d known all along that P-chan and Ryôga were one and the same.  She had.  Some minutes later, Ranma dug himself out of a crater in Shinjuku and considered his options.  There weren’t many that appealed to him.
     That was two weeks ago.  He’d had only sporadic contact with Pop and the Tendôs since then, mostly over the phone; things hadn’t improved.  Akane was holed up in her room, refusing to talk to anyone; Kunô’s last three attempts to gain entrance had placed him steadily further outside Tokyo city limits.  Sôun was outraged to the point of donning the Tendô armor and stalking the streets of Nerima in search of his daughter’s betrayers.  Genma was barely tolerated in the house, spending most of his waking hours wondering where he’d gone wrong as a father (the answer was probably something on the order of “everywhere”).  As a final touch, the total elimination of the former front-runner from the Marry Ranma Race had the Fiancée Brigade out in force; the three of them had demolished two small parks and an ice-cream store while trying to narrow the field further.
     So far, no one had discovered Ranma’s rooftop hideout.  That couldn’t last, especially with the upcoming end of summer break; once Kôchô got back from Hawaii and the school was reoccupied, he’d have to move on.
     That, or find a way to fix things.
     Ranma sighed, and turned his attention to an ancient green-glass vial he’d acquired the day before.  The liquid within oozed sluggishly as he turned it over and over, studying it carefully, thinking about the future.
     One good chug and the core of all his problems would be gone.  But that wouldn’t do a damn thing about all the troubles that had accreted around the core, like barnacles on a ship.  Troubles that affected not only him, but at least a dozen others.
     If only Akane hadn’t found out…
     But what good would that do? a seldom-heeded voice in the back of his head replied.  The secret would still be lurking in the background, souring three lives.  And it would have come out eventually…the longer it was kept, the more devastating the result would have been.
     If only I’d told her right away…
     And gone back on his word, his honor?  What would that have done to him? After all, there was a reason he swore never to reveal Ryôga’s curse…
     If only he hadn’t been cursed in the first place…!
     Now we’re getting somewhere.  But Ryôga wasn’t put under the curse of Hêitún-nìquán through his own actions alone.
     …if only…if only I hadn’t knocked him in.
     And there it was.  No matter how Ranma looked at it, he had to take at least some responsibility for Ryôga’s problems; and the more he considered it, the greater that responsibility seemed.
     No more puttin’ it off.  If I’m gonna set things right, I’d better start now…
     Ranma struck camp, packing the bottle carefully.  Finding Ryôga could be completely impossible or all too easy, usually whichever was the most irritating.  He hoped today would be different.

     Carefully avoiding the running battle between Shampoo and Kodachi (amazon 20, psycho gymnast 13, innocent bystanders -30), Ranma set about scouring Nerima for his arch-rival.  It wasn’t difficult to pick up the trail.  Signs of Ryôga’s passing were everywhere, usually being repaired by road-maintenance crews: shattered sidewalks and ki-singed storefronts, razorbandannas embedded in cars, and everywhere the distinctive marks of a superdense umbrella swung at high speed.  Occasional drifts of black rose petals muddied the trail.  If this goes on much longer, Ranma mused, I won’t have any problems findin’ him…there won’t be any buildings left ta block my view!  I gotta stop this while we still have a city!
     KABOOM.  From two blocks away, the distinctive yellow-green fire of a Shishi Hôkôdan caught Ranma’s attention.  Time to face the music.  Now, how best to approach Ryôga…?
     Not head-on, certainly.  In this bad a mood there’d be no reasoning with him.  A disguise?  All it’d take would be Groucho glasses and the poor sap wouldn’t be able to recognize his own mother…no.  No more trickery, no more deception.  That just made things worse.  Not head-on, nor from the rear… what’d that leave?  Sideways?  Got it.
     He leaped to the rooftops, stealthily making his way toward Ryôga. Landing on a fire escape just around the corner from the eternally lost boy, Ranma called out—making sure his voice would echo off the alley walls, concealing his true location.
     “Yo, Ryôga!  We need to talk!”
     Out in the street, the sun-source of teen angst looked up from the innocent mailbox he’d just turned into a rather nice ashtray.  “What…?  RANMA!  WHERE ARE YOU?!  SHOW YOURSELF SO I CAN CRUSH YOU LIKE A… LIKE… LIKE SOMETHING THAT CRUSHES EASILY!”
     “I’m not here ta fight, Ryôga,” the answer came.  “I really mean it…we gotta talk.  I’m callin’ a truce!  If you still wanna fight after I’ve had my say, I won’t stop ya…but after!  Okay?”
     “Truce…?  TRUCE?!”  Ranma caught a glimpse of his rival’s reflection in a store window; Ryôga was nearly purple with rage.  “You DARE to speak of truces when my dear Akane…when she…”  Oops, there goes the battle aura again.  This’s gonna be big…
     “In case you didn’t notice, we’re in the same boat!” he shouted back. “Akane kicked me outta the house right after you…I ain’t seen her in two weeks!”
     “What the hell do YOU care?!” Ryôga roared.  “You wouldn’t shed a tear if Akane DIED!!  I—”
     “…I love her.”
     Dead silence.
     “…what was that…?”
     “I love her!  Okay?  I’m in love with Akane, just like you are!  And not bein’ able to get near her is tearin’ me apart, same as it is you!”
     This was the big gamble.  Hearing something like that, he’d either go nuclear, or…
     Ryôga’s battle aura dissipated.  “You’re right.  We do need to talk… Are you coming out or not?”
     “Truce?”
     “Truce.  But I reserve the right to grind you to a pulp afterward.”
     “Fair enough.”  With that, the pigtailed youth leaped down to street level and strode out to meet his sworn enemy.

* * *
     The immediate area was too devastated for serious conversation (and besides, the police were on their way in), so the rivals adjourned to a kissaten a few blocks away.  Ranma insisted on paying for both their orders, which boggled Ryôga slightly.
     “Since when do you have money, Ranma?”
     “Since last week, when I found out wigmakers’ll pay a bundle for human hair.  Just undo the pigtail and whoosh…what, you don’t think I could hold down a job?”
     “Frankly, no.  This isn’t normal behavior for you, Ranma.  What’s going on?”
     Ranma gulped down the last of his coffee and continued.  “That’s sorta the point, really.  Since I got kicked out, I’ve been doin’ some thinking…don’t say it, I can see you wanna say it…and I didn’t like what I came up with.
     “I was thinkin’ about my life…about how screwed up it is, along with the lives of nearly everyone else I know.  I can blame a lot of it on Pop, but… when I really take a hard look at all our problems…I keep findin’ me at the heart of ’em.  The things I’ve done have ruined a whole bunch of lives…and it’s time I did somethin’ ta fix it.”
     “First you say you love Akane, now this?” Ryôga marvelled.  “Who are you, and what have you done with the real Ranma?”
     “Hey, I’m tryin’ ta be civil here!  That’s what I’m gettin’ at…if I wanta set things right, I’ve gotta change myself first.  I’ve been hidin’ the way I really feel about a lotta things, and that was part of the problem.”
     “But…how can you be in love with Akane?!  I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say a civil word to her!  You insult her at every turn, belittle her abilities, flee from her food…okay, I do that last too, but I try to be more subtle about it!  You call that love?!”
     Ranma sighed.  “It goes deeper ’n that.  Anyone ever tell you how me ’n’ her first met?”
     “I don’t think so…I know you hadn’t even heard of each other before that day…”
     “That ain’t the half of it!  It was like this…”
     By the end of Ranma’s tale of mistaken identity and severe table wounds, much of Ryôga’s anger had drained away.  “I think I see…the real problem here is, you and Akane are too much alike.  Even if you did start to like each other, after a first meeting like that I can’t see either of you admitting it…”
     “Exactly!” Ranma nodded.  “It’s a whaddyacall, viscous circle.  Or somethin’ like that…by now it’s kinda reflexive.  Anytime I wanta say anythin’ nice to Akane, I tense up an’ spout somethin’ stupid…an’ she’s gotten used to expectin’ the worst from me, so even when I get it out right she reads it like sarcasm an’ clocks me.  I think there might be somethin’ more’n raw hate on her end, but it’s just too damn hard to tell anymore…”
     “So now, as you put it, we’re in the same boat.  But what’s the point? Exactly why am I supposed to care, especially now that both of us are never likely to see Akane again?  Why shouldn’t I just call off the truce and break you in half?”
     “’Cause two heads’re better ’n one.  Workin’ together, we might just be able to patch things up with her…”
     “Leaving us right back where we started.”
     “Not quite.  See, if I’m gonna fix all the lives I’ve ruined, that includes you.”
     Ryôga started.  “Saotome, did I just hear you admit that you’ve made my life hell…?”
     “…Yeah,” Ranma sighed.  “I never meant…hell, I never thought about it.  Back in junior high…when we started fightin’ over lunch, I got the idea it was like me ’n’ Ucchan.  Friendly scrappin’, y’know?  …’Course, I didn’t read that one right either…but you get the idea.  I really thought we were friends, right up until you challenged me.”
     “Friends?!  I tried to beat you into a pulp every day at noon!”
     “Well, yeah, but I was used to that, remember?  And you never turned down my help when you needed t’ get back home…”
     The lost boy went pensive.  True, Ranma had guided him to the Hibiki homestead dozens of times, when Shirokuro was unavailable…and he’d never even thanked him for it.  Never once snapped out of the state of low-grade fury that had burned within him since the first time Saotome had used him as a mid-air stepladder and stolen his bread…
     …well, no, not stolen; the daily brawl at the lunch counter had always been a first-grabbed-first-served affair, and Ranma had never actually ripped the bread from his hands…
     “Hey!  You okay in there?”
     Ryôga snapped back to reality, mind reeling.  First Saotome tries to apologize for everything he’s done to me, now I start blaming myself for half of it…?  Forget the real Ranma, what’s happening to the real me?!
     Somewhere in the background, a low rumble made itself apparent.  Neither boy noticed.
     “Look…” Ranma sighed.  “We’ve been wastin’ too much time on this stupid feud.  Here’s the deal: we start workin’ together, find a way to make up with Akane, and then… well, then we try behavin’ like civilized people.  If…” he bit the words out— “If you ask Akane out… I won’t try an’ wreck it, if you’ll promise the same thing.  We let her decide.”
     “You’re serious.”
     “Absolutely.”
     “…I’ve got to think about this.  It’s…a big step.”
     Ranma nodded.  “Take all the time y’want, but I hope you’ll at least keep the truce goin’ until you decide one way or th’ other.”  He rummaged around the small backpack he’d been wearing, and produced the green-glass bottle.  “But no matter which way y’go,” he continued, “I want you t’ have this.”
     Ryôga squinted at the bottle.  “And what might that be?”
     Ranma grinned.  “A cure for the curse.”
     Boggle time.  “…A cure?!  Are you sure?”
     “Well…I haven’t tried it out myself.  The salesman only had the one bottle in stock, but I ordered a bunch more.”  The pigtailed boy held up a hand.  “I think the guy’s mostly trustable; he’s the same one Akane bought her hammer from, and Oyaji his sign and instant clothes.”  Scowl. “Damn cheapskate bought clothes for him, not me, and he wouldn’t even pop for a magic hot-water thermos!”
     “A sorcery salesman, eh?”
     “Yep, that’s what his lantern said.”
     Ryôga started.  “A sign on a lantern…?  This guy, he wouldn’t happen to be a year or so younger than us?  Long white hair, wild eyes, Pakistani?”
     “That’s him!  You’ve met him, too?”
     “Sold me my umbrella and bandanna.  Well well, Haan Hazrat’s in town…?  Maybe I should see what else he has in stock…”
     The distant rumbling grew louder, and closer.  Still they didn’t notice, being entirely too caught up in conversation.
     “So,” Ranma continued, “the cure’s on the level—”
     Ryôga shook his head.  “I don’t know about that.  What, exactly, did Haan tell you about it?”
     “Said it was an Instant Exorcism potion.  Drives out an’ destroys demons.  And you remember the incense-burner incident?”
     The lost boy shivered.  “I’ve been trying to forget.”
     “Well, far as I can tell, the Jusenkyô curses ’re really a kind of possession.  We’ve got demons livin’ inside us, but they can’t do nothin’ except make us change shape when we get wet, an’ maybe make sure we do get wet all the time.  If they get out and free, they’re a lot more dangerous, but this stuff should take care o’ that…”
     “…I don’t know,” Ryôga mused.  “Hazrat’s stuff usually works, but it’s the ‘usually’ that worries me.  Tried to sell me some monster eggs once, then backed off when he found out I was really a human—said they’d kill anyone who wasn’t immortal…”
     “…Found out you were human?”
     “Well, I had just beaten a rhino unconscious with my bare hands.  He’s not used to martial artists, but he has a few yôkai clients.”
     “Oookay.  So…what we need,” Ranma allowed, “is a guinea pig.  Who do we know who’s definitely possessed by an evil spirit, and we don’t really care if somethin’ nasty happens to him?”
     Both boys fell silent, considering.
     And the rumble crested into a roar, and a depraved ancient midget martial arts master toting a lingerie-filled bag five times his size bounced off each of their heads in turn, and a horde of indignant women trampled the kissaten and its occupants before they quite knew what had hit them.
     Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer.
* * *

[more to come]

NOTES FROM DEEP LEFT FIELD:
     Okay, so R&R are acting a tad OOC here.  I figured that if Ranma actually had some time to himself, and used it effectively, his brain might well start working, and that in turn might be a big enough shock to jar Ryôga out of his own rut.
     Yes, I know the dragon-whisker curse wore off.  There is a reason Ranma’s got it again, which will pop up later on.
     Haan Hazrat is a recurring character from Yûzô Takada’s 3x3 Eyes; he's the guy who sold Yakumo the “Jûma eggs” that allow demons and Wu to use beast-magic.  The rest of the Yôgekisha crew may well show up at some point.

     “Zhòu” is the Chinese equivalent/source of “jû”, the Japanese word for “curse”.
     Hêitún-nìquán: hêi, “black”; tún, “shoat, piglet”; nì, “drown”; quán, “spring”.  (The ê should really have a macron (flat long-vowel line), but I don’t think you can do that in HTML.)

  —Sam Ashley
      V0.5: 5/16/2000
      “Gravity is a harsh mistress.”

 
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