Standard Disclaimer: Ranma ½ is the property of Rumiko Takahashi and Viz Video. In other words, I do not own anything other than the characters that I create. This is done for entertainment purposes only and no profit is derived from this writings. Flames will be used for heating.
I'd like to thank John Tannius for the gracious use of certain situations borrowed from his fic "Dragon's Destiny".
An American Dragon in NerimaIt was a gorgeous day in Nerima, the birds chirping, the sun shining, not a hint of the storm clouds that seemed to gather around the district since the arrival of pair of particular Jusenkyo-cursed individuals. The district was, in fact, starting to tie Juban for weirdness levels in Weird Tokyo. Never heard of that particular magazine? Its publisher graduated from Rutgers University and while there became a devoted fan of Weird NJ, a travel guide of sorts to local legends and general strangeness that inhabit the state of New Jersey. Weird Tokyo did the same thing for the many districts of Tokyo, from youma sightings in Juban to where to find the best martial arts fights in Tokyo—legal, pit, or otherwise. And the weirdness fact was due to increase with the ward's newest resident.
A lone American Air Force officer was walking down the street, looking for a particular place to stay. He'd just gotten off the train from Yokota, after having had heard about Nerima and it's urban legends. Now, an American walking through Nerima is not, in itself weird. But if one were to look at his eyes, they'd notice a silvery hue to them, with the pupils slitted like cat's eyes. Of course, that's if one could get over the intense feeling of dread if they got too close to him. On the flight line, the base's somewhat newest lieutenant managed to keep that aura damped down—having one's subordinates afraid of you, really wasn't the way to work.
In his hands, was a copy of the current classified ads. Circled was an ad for modest room and board in the Furinkan section of Nerima at the Tendo Dojo. Getting directions to the Dojo were quite easy. The Tendos had been a fixture in the community since the Meiji Restoration, and their estate was one of the few buildings that survived the firestorms that swept through Tokyo after the American fire bombing offensives during World War II. He found the walled compound fairly easily, and rang the chime. He was about to ring it again, when the gate opened.
"May I help you?" The young woman who answered the gate asked.
"Yes ma'am," he replied, in an archaic dialect of Japanese. "I was wondering if Tendo Nabiki is in. I'm inquiring about the room for rent."
"Nabiki is at school right now. But the room is still available. Please come in…" she paused.
"Pardon my lack of manners." He bowed, before introducing himself. "Christopher Marx."
"Tendo Kasumi," she replied, returning the bow. Letting the American in, there was a bit of hesitancy between the two of them.
Marx looked at the young lady leading him into the house. She moved with a martial artist's grace, although Marx was no student of the Art. But there was something about Kasumi that captivated him; a gentleness that seemed the blow right through his mind.
"Father," she said to one of the men playing shoji, "this gentleman is here about Nabiki's ad."
Soun looked Marx over. "Hm…Saotome, what do you think?"
"Doesn't look like a martial artist."
Marx interrupted. "I've had some martial arts training as part of my military training, sir."
"So, you're an American soldier."
Marx turned to Soun. "Yes sir; United States Air Force, 374th Security Forces Squadron, out of Yokota Airbase."
"Ah, good." Soun's look turned deadly serious. "I take it you're not like those soldiers who got in trouble on Okinawa?"
Marx's eyes narrowed. "I hope those Marines and airmen that did what they did pay to the fullest extent of the law."
"Ah good. I have no objections then. When Nabiki gets home from school, you can settle the contract with her." Soun called his eldest daughter back over. "I am Tendo Soun, my friend Saotome Genma." The overweight man in the gi nodded. "Welcome to our household.
"Kasumi, please show Marx-san here the last spare bedroom."
"Hai, Father." Kasumi motioned for Marx to follow her. They walked down the hall to the next to last room in the house. Sliding the door open, Marx entered. "The futon and bedding is in the closet. I hope you'll be comfortable here."
Marx smiled at his hostess. "I'm sure I will be."
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As the eldest Tendo daughter and their new boarder left the veranda, Soun let out a suppressed shudder. "My friend, did you feel…"
"I did Tendo. Worse than when we were training with the Master."
"I have no idea how this will bode for the family."
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Marx returned later in a blue pickup truck, the bed loaded with several boxes. Using a hand truck, he quickly unloaded the truck, except for his desk. "Um, Kasumi, is there anyone who can help me with getting the desk out of back of the truck?"
"Certainly, Christopher-san," Kasumi said pleasantly. "Ranma," she called. "Can you help our new houseguest move in?"
"Yeah, I guess so," a mezzo-soprano voice answered. The redhead that owned the voice walked into the kitchen.
Marx looked at her, a quizzical look on his face. "Kasumi, she's going to help me?"
"Yes. Oh, my. Ranma, I guess you should change first." Kasumi took the kettle for hot water and poured it over the redhead. Ranma-onna changed to Ranma-otoko in the virtual blink of an eye.
Marx's eyes became as wide as saucers. As they walked out to Marx's pickup truck, Marx said one word to the pigtailed martial artist. "Jusenkyo?"
"Yeah, how did you know?"
"I'll tell everyone at dinner tonight. Let's just get this desk into my room."
"Hai, Marx-san." The two men lift the desk out of the bed of the truck and carried it in.
Nabiki stood next to the open door, as the two wrestled the desk through the door. "So, you must be our new tenant."
"Yes ma'am. Christopher Marx. I take it you're Nabiki" he replied. She nodded in reply. "Ranma, it's not going to work this way, without punching a hole in the wall. Flip it on its side, and we'll work it in that way."
"Hai, Marx-san." The teen and the lieutenant flipped the desk on its side and worked it around through the door. They set the desk upright, and where Marx wanted it.
"Thanks Ranma."
"No problem, Marx-san. Glad to be of service." With that, the pigtailed martial artist headed off to get to do his homework.
Nabiki entered the room without Marx's permission and sat on his chair. Marx raised his eyebrow at that, but said nothing, because at this point, it wasn't his room yet. "There's the little matter of room and board—that's 150,000 yen. But I also insist on a two months rent up front as a security deposit—that's 300,000 yen. You're in the American military correct?" Marx nodded, even as he was reaching for his checkbook. "So you'll be here at least two years. This time next year, we reserve the right to increase your rent by ten percent. This is nonnegotiable, and I'll have the rental agreement and contract drawn up tomorrow."
"Agreed. I assume that when I leave, I'll get my deposit back, yes?" Marx wrote out two checks. The first was for the security deposit, the second was for six months rent. Nabiki could barely keep her eyes from bugging out when she did the conversion of dollars to yen. Marx had just written her a check for 1 million yen.
Dinner that night was an interesting thing for the older Security Forces lieutenant. Ranma and his father were fighting over the food on their plates. As the families sat down, Marx was introduced to Akane. Nabiki had yen signs in her eyes, and Kasumi had her usual fixed smile in place. "So," Marx asked, as he deftly maneuvered his chopsticks past the fighting Saotomes, "how do your families know each other?"
"Genma and I trained together under the same Master when we were younger. After we disposed…er, graduated, we agreed to unite the families."
"That's right. Ranma, here is going to marry Akane…"
Genma was interrupted by a violent outburst from the youngest daughter. "There's no way I'm going to marry that sex-changing perverted freak!"
"Akane, there's no reason to reveal…"
"It's quite alright, Father. Christopher-san has already seen Ranma's curse."
"I've heard quite a bit about Jusenkyo." Chopsticks paused in mid travel to their owners' mouths when Marx said that. "I'd like to know how Ranma received such a curse."
"How did you hear about the Cursed Training Grounds?" Soun asked, amazed that this American would know such a thing.
"When I graduated from the Air Force's Security Forces Academy, I was assigned to a six-month temporary assignment to a PLA Air Force training base in Qinghai. Simply put, I was an observer to the Chinese Air Force's security training. And I heard many a tale about the Bayankala mountain range. I don't know how much of it was true or not, but since seeing Ranma change sexes, I think I can believe some of it." And they don't need to know about me, yet, he thought to himself.
"It was the last months of our ten year training trip…" Genma leaned back and recounted the tale of how his son was cursed to become a girl. "Oh, what Kami did I anger to cause my son to turn into a weak girl," he wailed.
Ranma glared at his father. "So why didn't you tell him what you turn into Pops?" He reached across the table and grabbed his father by the front of his gi, and threw him into the koi pond. Genma-panda spat out a mouth full of pond water, and began growfing loudly. "Suck it old man," Ranma shouted. "I remember getting the first hit in. You got a lucky shot in because I was startled." Genma made an obscene gesture, which seemed to annoy the pigtailed teen. Ranma leapt over the dinner table, and the Saotomes began a fresh sparring session.
Marx looked at the father and son fighting in the yard, and looked at the Tendos. Akane was sitting there, fuming; Nabiki still had yen signs in her eyes. Soun was back behind his newspaper, and Kasumi…his enhanced senses could tell that behind the smiling mask, there was a great pain; her gentleness hiding an iron core. When she looked at him, their eyes locked if only for a moment. "Allow me to help clean up," he said, as Kasumi started clearing away the dishes.
"You're a guest, I couldn't possibly…"
"I'm a tenant, not a guest. I'd like to help."
"I…I…"
"Say 'Yes', Kasumi," the middle Tendo needled. "It's not like our other houseguests really help out around here," she said, jerking her thumb at the battling Saotomes.
"I…I guess so," the eldest daughter said.
Marx smiled. "Good," he said. Of course, he had most of the dishes stacked in front of him anyway. He picked them up, and carried them into the kitchen. As they did the dishes, the two of them chatted about trivialities.
"If you will excuse me, Kasumi," Marx said. "I have an even earlier morning than normal usual."
"Would you like me to fix you up a bento for lunch?"
Marx thought about it for a few moments. Suffer the food at the mess hall, or eat Kasumi's outstanding food. "Ah, if it's no problem…thank you. It's just that I have to be up at three tomorrow."
"You're quite welcome, Christopher-kun, really. Don't worry, I'll make it tonight for you." Marx gave her a smile, before heading to his room, his futon calling him.
Crawling under the over the thin, traditional mattress, Marx lay looking at the ceiling of his room. His mind was a whir with thoughts about the, for all intents and purposes, matriarch of the Tendo family. That gentle about her would be the perfect thing for him. Too many of his past liaisons were difficult to maintain for any length of time. Except for his late wife. Her death is what made the former NJ Army National Guard sergeant get his commission and return to active duty with the Air Force.
For the first time since China, the two recurrent nightmares that plagued the cursed lieutenant—the scenes from when he returned home from his National Guard summer camp, and found his wife brutally murdered, or when he received his curse—did not return.
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