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Pilgrim
Author of 13 Stories |
TEARS OF A DOLL
A work of fan fiction by Dan Stickney
Ranma ½ is the property of Rumiko Takahashi.
Chapter 1: Fellowship of the Bereaved
The next week at work was literally hell. Koga seemed to be in an especially slave-driving mood and I couldn’t even look at Tendo-san’s door without my brain running riot with all sorts of fruitless speculation. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending upon how you looked at it) my next opportunity to visit my Grandmother came the very next Sunday. Koga was out of town at a conference. He’d been feeling expansive in his good fortune and he’d magnanimously allowed me to take the whole weekend off, telling me that ‘I deserved a little break’ and ‘don’t worry, your hard work would be rewarded in the end.’ I noted, however, that Koga had made no effort to take me to the conference even though other people at my level were attending. It made me wonder (again) if my loyalty to Koga wasn’t misplaced.
Still, at least I finally had a whole weekend off. I spent all of Saturday just kicking back and relaxing, catching up on the magazines I subscribed to but never had time to read anymore. I seriously considered going out of town, or going shopping, or just getting out and doing something. But then Sunday rolled around and I found myself on the train again, headed once more for the nursing home. Gran had never given up on me after all. So I once again faced my own personal purgatory of train, shop, elevator, and finally the sterile corridor that took me to my grandmother’s bedside once again.
A little over fifteen minutes later I was wandering aimlessly back down the corridor, feeling depressed and guilty. I’d delivered the flowers to my grandmother’s room, and spent a little while talking to her, but she remained totally non-responsive, and after a few minutes the sheer futility had overwhelmed me and I just had to leave. I hated to see her like this, I hated myself for the way I felt, and if I didn’t get out of this place I was certain that my heart would burst. I was desperate for something, anything else to think about – even work. As I approached the corridor junction, thoughts of work made me wonder about the woman I’d seen here last week. Was she really related to Tendo-san? Glancing to my left, I noticed that the door marked “Akane Tendo” was ajar, and once again my curiosity overcame me.
Gathering my courage, I carefully snuck down the branching corridor towards the door, trying not to make any noise and feeling quite foolish for acting like a character out of some cheap spy novel. Once I actually got there, though, I was awed by what I heard. It was my boss all right, and she was behaving in a way I’d never even thought possible. I’d never dared dream that I’d ever hear the feared and fearless Nabiki Tendo sniffling like some forlorn schoolgirl. I risked a peek around the corner.
“Well, I have to go now, Sis.” Tendo-san was saying to the figure that lay curled, unmoving, on the bed. “Kasumi sends her love; Ranma does too…”
I backed away from the door, swallowing. I decided that I’d better give Tendo-san her privacy before she spotted me. I turned to hurry on my way, and only succeeded in blundering into Tendo-san as she came through the doorway!
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” I blithered hastily, bowing repeatedly. “Forgive me Tendo-san! I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“That’s quite all right.” She sniffed, wiping her eyes. “Say, how do you know my name? Do I know you?” She looked me up and down carefully. “You’re Kakuta, aren’t you? The new kid in Koga’s group?” Suddenly, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Koga didn’t send you to keep tabs on me, did he?”
“What?” I panicked. “No, of course not!”
“Then why are you here?”
“I’m visiting my Grandmother.” I muttered. “She’s…She’s…” Suddenly, the intensity of my feelings overwhelmed me, and I put a hand over my eyes and sagged against the wall.
After a moment, I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. Startled, I yanked my hand down, and found myself looking up into Tendo-san’s eyes. She didn’t look angry, though: far from it, in fact. “Hey…” she said, a bit hesitantly. “I think I know what you’re going through. Do you want to talk about it?” I nodded without speaking. She nodded in return, her resolve visibly firming up. “Then let’s get the hell out of this dismal place and find ourselves a cup of coffee.”
We found a little shop just around the corner and placed our orders. It didn’t take very long. For a while I just stared down into my coffee without speaking. I’ve never been any good at small talk. Fortunately Tendo-san seemed much less intimidating in this casual social setting than she did at work.
“So….” she said at last. “Do you still want to talk about it?”
I grimaced and looked up. Tendo-san was regarding me kindly--not at all like the iron martinet that I’d expected--and I suddenly realized that she wasn’t that much older than I was. Her rise through the ranks must have been truly meteoric. “There isn’t much to say, Tendo-san. My grandmother is my only living relative…if you can call that living.”
Tendo-san nodded encouragingly. “So your parents…”
I traced aimless circles in the sugar I’d spilled on the tabletop with my finger. “Dead. They died in an earthquake when I was little. I barely remember them. My... my grandmother was the only family I ever had, really.” I lifted my coffee and took a sip, the bitterness on my tongue perfectly matching the feeling in my heart. Tendo-san tilted her head, but didn’t say anything.
“She raised me by herself, and it couldn’t have been easy. I was a pretty hard-headed kid. I got in a lot of trouble. At least I got good grades in school. She scraped and saved for years to get me through Tokyo University.” I stopped and squeezed my eyes shut. This was the hardest part.
“So what happened to her?” Tendo-san prompted gently.
“The night before my graduation, she had a stroke. I was out partying with my friends, and didn’t find out until the next morning. She’s been in a coma ever since, and I…” My voice trailed off raggedly, and it took all of my self-control to clamp down on the tears before they came. I barely noticed when Tendo-san reached across the table and squeezed my hand.
“It’s not your fault.”
“Yes it is. I should have been home.”
Tendo-san’s voice was quiet, supportive. “And what would you have done if you had been home?”
“I don’t know. Something... anything.” I took another sip of coffee to give myself time to regain my composure. “So that’s my story.”
We sat in silence for a long moment. Finally, Tendo-san sighed. “Well, that’s your story. I guess I owe you mine.”
“Tendo-san, you don’t…” I started, but Tendo-san silenced my objections with a look.
“No, I don’t,” she agreed quietly, “but I want to talk about it.” I need to talk about it her eyes seemed to be saying, so I acquiesced with a nod.
Tendo-san blew on her tea, even though it had long since cooled. “The person in that room is my little sister... Akane. She’s been comatose for about ten years now.”
I winced. Somehow, this seemed much worse than my own situation. “So what happened to her?”
Nabiki took a deep breath. “It happened during the autumn of my senior year in high school. We’d gone to visit a spa for a family vacation, and Akane just…snapped. She’d always had a hot temper, but she suddenly went psychotic. She tried to kill her fiancé several times, and very nearly succeeded, because she was... is... a high-caliber martial artist. But Ranma is so far beyond good it isn’t even funny. He’s a prodigy, a genius, at least when it comes to the fighting arts. Even then, it was a near-run thing, because he just couldn’t bring himself to fight her full out. She also attacked two of her girlfriends, and nearly killed them, too. We got her to a psychiatric hospital, but she just got worse and worse. They literally had to strap her into bed.”
Fiancé? In high school? I decided I’d ask about that later. “So was she sent to prison or something?” How did she end up in a coma?
“She never went to trial. About a week later an orderly entered her room and found her comatose. She’s been in a coma ever since. I still think those goddamned doctors over-medicated her.” Nabiki scowled into her tea. “Hell, if this were America, I’d sue those bastards so hard their ancestors would feel it.” Her fierceness dissipated as suddenly as it had appeared. “Anyway, my father never recovered. He’d never been the same after Mom died. Losing Akane, his baby, his chosen heir, proved to be too much for him. He died a couple of years later. Officially, he died of a heart attack, but I think he really died of a broken heart.”
I just nodded, not trusting myself to speak
Tendo-san squeezed her eyes shut in pain. “So Daddy died, but Akane didn’t. I almost wish she had. It would have been much easier to deal with.”
I nodded understandingly, but I asked the obvious follow-up question anyway because it seemed like Tendo-san wanted—needed—me to ask it. “So how is this worse than if she had died?”
Tendo-san put her head in her hands. “If she’d died, I’d at least have been able to say goodbye to her. The way things are now, I come to see her every Sunday, watching her curl up more and more with each passing year, all while knowing that she’ll never get better.”
I considered this for a moment. “Tendo-san… I’m so sorry.” It wasn’t pity -- just honest sympathy from one mourner to another.
Tendo-san responded with a wounded smile and a nod. “Anyway, I come down here to visit her every Sunday. I’m kind of surprised we haven’t run into each other before.”
I briefly considered telling her that work had been keeping me busy on Sundays, but I didn’t want buck Koga so openly. So I chose a different truth instead. “Well, it’s not all that easy to get here from where I live.”
“Oh? And where’s that?”
“Nerima.”
Tendo-san seemed to perk up a little. “Really? I’m a Nerima girl myself. Did you attend Furinkan?”
I hope I didn’t look as discomfited as I felt. Based on her expression, though, I probably did. “No, I moved there because it’s cheap.” Besides, when you don’t have any family, you’re pretty much free to live anywhere you want. “Grandmother’s care is very expensive.”
Tendo-san’s face fell a little. “Yeah, I know.” Just as suddenly, her expression lifted again. “Well, I can’t do anything about that, but I can give you a lift. I’m going home to visit my other sister anyway.”
“No, I couldn’t...”
Tendo-san lifted one eyebrow. “Do I have to make it an order?” She asked, half seriously.
I flushed. Obedience to my superiors is as ingrained in me as any other Japanese. “Of course not, Tendo-san.”
She tossed a wad of yen on the table. “Come on, then.”
Tendo-san’s “home” proved to be another surprise. I was startled when Tendo-san pulled to a stop outside a fairly large residential compound surrounded by a substantial masonry wall. A hand-painted wooden sign hung by the traditional roofed gateway. The smaller kanji had faded to near invisibility but I could still read “Tendo’s Martial Arts -- School of Indiscriminate Grappling” in large, bold characters. The equally traditional rambling house inside the wall looked just as impressive. It must have dated from some time before the war. In a land where most people live in cramped two or three-room apartments, this sort of luxury seemed scarcely imaginable.
“Wow, Tendo-san. This is beautiful!” I wasn’t just making idle conversation, either. The Tendo-ke was clearly an ancestral home. Her family must have lived in Nerima for generations.
“I’m glad you like it. It cost me every Yen I could beg, borrow or steal to save this place.” She blew out her breath. “Daddy died before any of us married, you see, so he couldn’t make it a wedding gift to avoid the inheritance taxes.”
I nodded knowingly. I’d learned all about Japan’s draconian inheritance taxes the hard way. “My grandmother had a house too, but nothing this big. Just a tiny house with a postage stamp sized garden, but she loved it. You’re lucky you were able to save this place at all. I never could have afforded the taxes on Gran’s house.” Not that it would have mattered, since I had to sell it anyway to pay for her care.
Nabiki nodded in agreement. “You said it. It wasn’t easy. Between saving the family homestead and Akane’s care I’m lucky to have two Yen to rub together sometimes.”
That explains the instant ramen at your desk I thought. Out loud, I said. “My Grandmother would have loved your garden. Gardening was her favorite hobby.” It wasn’t just idle flattery, either: a tall privacy fence blocked most of my view to the right but from what I could see to the left the garden was beautiful.
Tendo-san smiled sheepishly. “To be honest, I never really cared for it all that much. Gardening was more my parent’s thing, and my big sister Kasumi’s. As a kid I couldn’t wait to get out of this place and move downtown to where the action was. Akane was going to inherit the Dojo anyway.” She took a deep breath and looked around. “I never realized how gray and dreary downtown is behind the neon. At least I still have this place to come back to, when I need a break from all of that concrete.” Tendo-san took a deep breath, and seemed to visibly shake off her melancholy. “Kasumi will be pleased that you like her garden. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
She led me up the walk towards the front entrance. Just as we got there two people emerged through a gate in the fence: a tall man escorting a happy-looking little girl. The girl’s smile got even bigger when she spotted my companion. “Auntie Nabiki!”
Tendo-san smiled warmly and it entirely transfigured her face. “Hey kiddo,” she beamed, bending down to exchange hugs, nodding at the man as she did so. “Tofu.”
“Hello Nabiki.” The tall man smiled behind his glasses, then indicated me with a look of polite curiosity. “Did you bring a guest for dinner?”
Dinner? No one had said anything about dinner. I nearly objected, not wanting to presume too much on my very recent acquaintance with Tendo-san. But before I could say anything she nodded. “Yes. This is Kakuta Kakuji. He works for me.” The man regarded me curiously: he could tell that there was something more to it than that but he didn’t question Nabiki openly. I bowed immediately, not wanting to make a bad impression. “Kakuji, this is my brother in law, Dr. Tofu Ono. And this,” she added, bending down to give the giggling girl another hug, “is Kimiko.”
I bowed again, deeply. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Ono-sensei.”
“Please,” he replied, returning my bow with a smile. “Call me Dr. Tofu. Everyone does.”
I turned and bowed with exaggerated formality to the child. “It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Miss Kimiko.” I intoned, giving her a smile and a wink. She looked a bit uncertain at this grownup show of courtesy, but then she smiled and returned the bow, giggling. Though I imagined she would have been smiling and giggling anyway, because she just seemed to be a smiley, giggly sort of child. Not that I’m any judge. Aren’t all girls smiley and giggly at that age? And, given my current marital prospects, was I ever likely to find out? Still, Tendo-san looked happy, and that’s what really counted as far as I was concerned.
“Are we the first to arrive?” Nabiki was asking her brother-in-law.
‘Are you kidding?” He replied, smiling. “The others have been sparring in the dojo for hours. Though how that makes Sunday any different from any other day of the week...” He left the question hanging. “Anyway, we’re going to the park, so someone here,” he looked around as if we all didn’t know whom he was talking about, “can spend a little time on the playground before dinner.”
“We’re gonna play on the swings, Auntie.” Kimiko confirmed eagerly. “You wanna come?”
“Sorry, kiddo, not today.” Nabiki smiled, tweaking her nose playfully. “I need to talk to your mom. Some other time, okay?”
“’Kay.” We parted politely, bowing yet again. Tendo-san turned to watch them until they went out through the gate, a fond smile on her face.
“Your niece seems quite charming.” I offered after a moment, when she made no move to enter.
“She has her moments.” Tendo-san tilted her head, perhaps a bit embarrassed to be revealed as a doting ‘auntie.’ “She has her bad moments too, I’m afraid.”
“What child doesn’t?” I responded. Not that I knew anything about children. It just seemed like the right thing to say.
Tendo-san nodded. Then she was once again all business, her armor restored. “Shall we enter?”
I belatedly realized that she was waiting for me to get the door. “Certainly, Tendo-san.”
Tendo-san led me down the polished wood floor of the central corridor. Overall, the inside of the house appeared to match its traditional exterior, at least on the ground floor, with high ceilings and a very traditional pattern of open tatami-floored rooms separated by sliding paper screens. Here on the inside of the house the screens were all opaque fushama, though I imagined that the outer screens were mostly translucent shoji. We passed the kitchen and a room I couldn’t identify before we entered into a good-sized tearoom. Two women kneeling at the table rose when we entered.
“Kasumi, Kurumi” Nabiki nodded in greeting. “Allow me to introduce Kakuji Kakuta.”
I blinked as I bowed. Kasumi and Kurumi? It must have been quite confusing growing up with two such similarly named sisters. I stood there blinking for a moment, unsure which one was which.
The taller woman noted my confusion and laughed gently. Then she dropped back down onto her knees and bowed deeply, pressing her forehead to the floor in the traditional fashion. “Welcome to our home, Kakuta-san. I’m Kasumi Ono.” It was an astoundingly graceful performance, like something out of a period drama, and for a moment I wasn’t quite sure how to respond.
The younger woman blinked uncertainly at me for just a moment before duplicating her sister’s movements. “Greeting, Kakuta-san. I’m Kurumi Tendo.”
I returned the bows and muttered something I hoped was appropriate. Obviously the youngest, Kurumi was quite petite compared to her sisters -- and quite cute, too. Down, boy I told myself hurriedly. Junior salarymen do not salivate over their bosses’ younger sisters.
Kasumi, meanwhile, was giving me a measuring look. “Nabiki...?” she asked leadingly.
Tendo-san laughed. “It’s not what you think, Kasumi. Kakuji here works in my department.”
Kasumi responded with a knowing smile. “On Sunday?”
Nabiki’s face fell a little. “We ran into each other at the nursing home.”
Kasumi sighed in understanding. Karumi looked puzzled for a moment, then slow enlightenment seemed to dawn. “Errr…and how is Akane, Nabiki?”
Nabiki shook her head and gave the younger woman a sad smile. “No change.”
Kurumi’s expression clouded even more. “I’m so sorry…”
I blinked. Something about the girl’s reaction just didn’t track. To my ears, Kurumi sounded more like she was giving sympathy to a friend than comforting a member of her own family. Then I dismissed the thought; it was none of my business, anyway.
“Kurumi...” Nabiki looked at her speculatively. “Do you mind showing Kakuji around the garden? I’d like to speak with Kasumi for a moment.”
Kurumi bowed. “Certainly...oneesan.”
I blinked. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I could have sworn that she’d hesitated slightly before the honorific, as if she were somehow uncomfortable with it. Or perhaps it was just my own discomfort making me oversensitive. But why was the younger girl being so formal, anyway? Perhaps Tendo-san intimidated her own family the same way she seemed to intimidate everybody else.
Whatever it was, Tendo-san didn’t seem to notice it. Or perhaps deliberately ignored it. “Thanks, Imouto-chan.”
Oddly, Kurumi beamed at the affectionate diminutive as if it were somehow great praise, before she turned and escorted me back out the way I’d come in.
“Call me Kurumi, please.” She replied softly. “There’s no need to be so formal.”
I glanced over at Kurumi as she led me towards the pond. She was quite pretty in her own right, but she didn’t seem to resemble Tendo-san much at all: at least not as much as Kasumi did. Maybe she took after their father or something. “So…” I ventured, hoping to start a conversation. “You have quite the large family, it seems. Just how many sisters do you have?”
“Hmmm?” she responded, distracted. “Oh, just the one.”
“But…” I blinked in surprise, gesturing back at the house.
“Oh.” She flushed in embarrassment, taking a seat on a large rock next to the pond. “Sorry, old habit.” She twined her fingers and looked at them for a moment. “My big sister Natsume and I aren’t really Nabiki and Kasumi’s sisters. We’re adopted.” She looked up at me. “In fact, we weren’t adopted until after Akane fell ill.”
“Ah.” I nodded. So she was adopted - as a teenager no less. That explains quite a bit, particularly her skewed response to the news of Akane’s condition. “Did you ever get to meet her?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes, we did. Even though we were orphans, we’d been led to believe that Soun Tendo was our father, and that we were destined to carry on the Tendo School of martial arts. We spent our whole adolescence training in anything goes martial arts and searching for him.” She turned to look at the pond. “We finally tracked him down here.”
“And he took you in?” I was amazed.
Karumi gave me a rueful smile. “We didn’t exactly give him much choice. We were so desperate to finally have a Papa that we kind of overwhelmed him. The other girls weren’t exactly thrilled about it, either.”
“No, I imagine not.” I muttered, wondering how I’d feel if some illegitimate half-brother I’d never heard about suddenly appeared on my doorstep.
Karumi turned her gaze back to the pond. “Anyway, of the three of them, Akane took to us the most. I mean, Kasumi’s always sweet, and Nabiki can be nice when she wants to be, but you could see that the very thought that Papa might have been unfaithful to their mother hurt them really badly. Only Akane really accepted us.”
“She did?”
The girl flushed. “Well, kind of. I mean, I could tell she was really angry about the whole situation; she just didn’t take it out on us. Kasumi tells me that was just the way Akane was. She always got mad… really, really, really mad… but she never stayed mad. At least that’s what I saw. She sparred with us, cooked dinner for us, and tried to be nice to us.” Kurumi smiled at the pond in fond reminiscence. But after a few moments her face fell. “Then we had to go and stab her in the back.”
“What do you mean, stab her in the back”
Karumi sighed. “We challenged her and Ranma for the right to be the heirs to the Dojo.”
“Ranma? Who’s Ranma?”
“Ranma was Akane’s fiancé. Still is, I guess, since he’s never publicly renounced the engagement.”
“I take it you lost.” She must have. Didn’t Tendo-san say that Akane was the designated heir to the school?
Kurumi’s face screwed up in pain. “No, as a matter of fact, we didn’t. We won. We beat them, badly. Akane was so upset she ran away.” She looked up at him. “I felt really horrible about it. We’d finally achieved our dream, but in the very worst way imaginable. I never wanted to hurt Akane. Papa was very upset. But even then he didn’t blame us. He threw Ranma out instead, and told him not to come back without her. I’ve never felt so guilty in all my life.”
I shook my head. Something didn’t add up. If what Kurumi said was true, why would the Tendos adopt her? “So what happened?” I asked at last.
Karumi smiled that rueful smile again. “Akane didn’t go far. She camped out in a nearby vacant lot and trained for a while. Then she and Ranma came back and really clobbered us. They came up with this new move where Ranma launched Akane right through our defenses like a missile -- don’t ask me how, you probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you -- and Akane nailed us both with one incredible roundhouse kick. It was awesome.” Her smile became genuine again, and it was all I could do to keep from shaking my head again in disbelief.
Her face fell. “Then we found out that we’d been lied to: Mr. Tendo wasn’t really our father. I think that hurt even more than getting beaten did. We were devastated.” She sighed. “But once everyone found out that we really were orphans, I think they all felt really sorry for us. Even Akane didn’t stay mad at us now that we weren’t really a threat anymore. Mr. Tendo offered to let us stay, but we decided to keep moving on. After all, we’d lived on the road most of our lives, so it wouldn’t be any hardship for us, but…”
“But what?”
Natsume grimaced. “Everything had changed. It wasn’t the same anymore. Before, we’d had a mission, a goal driving us forward. Now…it felt like we were running away from home. We’d promised we’d train until we were sure that we could uphold the honor of the school, and then return for another match, but…the next time we came back, a few months later, Akane was in the hospital, Papa wasn’t teaching any more, and Kasumi and Nabiki were just barely holding on by their fingernails.”
“So what happened then?”
“We stayed. They needed us. Without Akane, there was no heir to the Tendo School.” Karumi’s grimace shaded slightly more towards a smile. “Papa was so happy to see us he formally adopted us--made us his legal heirs and everything. But even we could see that his spirit was broken. Still, I’m glad I got to know him, at least a little, before he died.”
“And that’s it? You’re still here?”
Kurumi nodded. “We must carry on the school. We owe it to Papa... and to Kasumi and Nabiki, because they took us in when they had every reason not to... and to Akane, because she can’t.” She looked up at me seriously. “I don’t care who my real father was. I’m a Tendo, and Tendos stick together.”
That was an incredibly strong statement in a nation where blood often trumps everything. I blinked, unable to come up with an immediate response. Fortunately, I was spared the necessity by a voice calling from somewhere behind me.
“Hey Sis? Can you do us a favor and referee a little match?”
“Sure, Natsume.” Kurumi called back as she got to her feet. “Come on, I’ll show you the dojo.”
The brunette smirked back at the redhead. “Oh, nothing special. Just the usual dojo rules.”
I looked at Kurumi. “What does she mean by ‘the usual dojo rules’?”
“No dirty hits and nothing that might threaten the structural integrity of the building.” Kurumi whispered back. “Kasumi gets upset when we knock holes in the roof, too.”
Holes in the roof? I stared back at her in disbelief. Kurumi ignored me and dropped her hand. “Begin!”
Suddenly, the two women seemed to flowtogether in a flurry of hands and feet, blows flashing faster than my eyes could follow. Just as suddenly the redhead came sailing out of the melee. She didn't hit the floor for nearly ten feet, and kept sliding until she fetched up against the outer wall beside me. I looked back at the center of the floor in shock. The other girl stood there in a guard position, barely breathing hard, smirking as the redhead climbed to her feet.
“Hey, I thought you said no dirty blows!” She shouted at her opponent. “What’s the idea trying to kick me in the nuts?
“And just what ‘nuts’ would you be referring to, Ranma-chan?” The brunette smirked back at her. “Yeah, I’ll admit, that would have been a very dirty blow... if you were male” she smiled. “You still couldn’t keep yourself from dodging, though, could you? Old habits die hard, I guess.”
I tilted my head in confusion as the redhead smiled and shook her head ruefully “Yeah, you got me. I guess my habits are developed. You ain’t gonna get me with that one twice, though.”
The brunette gestured impatiently. “Yeah, right. Talk is cheap.”
The redhead grinned and leaped at her opponent. There was another brief flurry of combat, and this time the brunette came flying out of the center, expertly converting her fall into a round-off and two handsprings as she did so. Unfortunately, the dojo wasn’t quite big enough to allow room for this and she slammed backwards into the wall with enough force to rattle the entire building. Amazingly, she just shook her head as she bounced off the wall like a rubber ball and threw herself back at her opponent. I looked on in open-mouthed awe as the tempo of the fight actually seemed to increase until finally the redhead landed a kick that launched the brunette high enough to graze the ceiling tiles before she slammed back into the floor hard enough to shake the entire dojo to its very foundations.
I swallowed, looking at the prone woman in worry, but my escort seemed entirely unconcerned. The victorious redhead relaxed out of her fighting stance. “You OK, Natsume?” She called to her erstwhile opponent.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” The brunette muttered, sitting up and pressing a hand to her head. “I swear I’m gonna get you one of these days, though.”
“Yeah, right.” The redhead smirked. “Who’s talkin’ cheap now?”
“I’ve beaten you before, Ranma.”
Ranma? I jumped, startled. Tendo-san’s sister was engaged to a GIRL?
“Never one-on-one though. You only beat us the first time because I was too busy protectin’…” The redhead’s voice cut off, and she suddenly turned her back to us.
The brunette winced, and placed a hand on the shorter girl’s shoulder. “I’m OK.” The redhead muttered after a moment. “It just hits me kinda sudden sometimes, you know?”
“Ranma…” The taller woman began hesitantly.
“Not your fault.” The other woman turned around and noticed Kurumi and I standing next to the door. “Hey, Kurumi,” she called sardonically, obviously anxious to change the subject, “new boyfriend?”
“No!” Kurumi answered, blushing. “This is Kakuji Kakuta. Nabiki brought him over.”
The petite woman stepped over and made a show of looking me up and down. “Can’t possibly be her new boyfriend,” she leered at me mockingly. “He don’t look nowhere near old enough… or rich enough.” It was pretty poor manners in my opinion, but I didn’t object for politeness’ sake.
Kurumi rolled her eyes. “No, he works for her company.”
The redhead snorted and headed back towards the wall to retrieve a thermos bottle. “Heh. So ‘Queen Nabs’ is bringing her flunkies home now?” I bristled, but I didn’t say anything. “Say…” the redhead paused, her hand on the lid. “If you’re a flunky, what are you doing here on Sunday?”
Kurumi scowled. Apparently, she wasn’t too amused by the redhead’s jibes either. “They were visiting the nursing home together.”
The redhead froze, and gave me a hard, searching look. I looked away, unwilling to meet the intensity of her gaze. “My Grandmother is also on the fifth floor.” I replied finally.
“Oh.” The redhead muttered, deflating a little. “Does…does she like it there?”
I shook my head sadly. “I wouldn’t know. She’s never woken up.”
Now it was the redhead’s turn to wince. “Man.” She unscrewed the cap. “I’m sorry, man. I shouldn’t have teased you.” With that, she dumped the thermos over her head, and became taller, darker – and male.
“Ranma! You should have warned him before you did that!” Kurumi snapped, moving over to support me as I swayed, gibbering. She looked me over appraisingly. “Though I will say this for him: he didn’t faint.”
“Th-Th-That’s not possible!” I stuttered, after I finally got my breathing under control.
“Sheesh, sorry, I...” The now dark-haired martial artist muttered sheepishly. “Everyone around here is so used to my curse that I forget sometimes.”
“But how is such a thing even possible?” I asked after a long moment.
Ranma gave me a long-suffering look. “It’s magic. A curse I picked up in China back when I was a kid. Cold water turns me into a girl. Hot water turns me back.”
I thought about that for a moment. “So, um, what were you originally?” Belatedly, I realized that was probably a very, very foolish thing to ask.
But the other man just snorted. “A guy, of course.” He muttered sarcastically, though he didn’t seem upset by the question
Natsume rolled her eyes. “Meet Ranma Saotome, man among men...”
Kurumi nodded in agreement. “...even when he’s a girl. He hardly even seems to notice, sometimes.”
Ranma favored them with a Gimlet-eyed stare. “Hey, it’s been more’n ten years. I’m used to it by now.”
So Ranma really was Akane’s fiancé. I nodded to myself. Then another thought belatedly occurred to me. “But...” I objected faintly, “I don’t believe in magic.”
Ranma snorted again, favoring me with an ironic smile. “Take it from me, kid. It don’t matter if you don’t believe in the magic. The real question is: does the magic believe in you?”
Dinner was wonderful. Not just the food -- though Kasumi-san proved to be an excellent cook -- but the atmosphere. Eight people were a tight fit around the table, but Kasumi-san made room for me down at her end next to Kurumi. This relegated little Kimiko to the other side between Ranma and Nabiki. Not that she complained about being stuck next to her only “uncle” and her favorite -- at least for the moment -- auntie.
The conversation was lively. Ranma in particular seemed to think it was his duty to needle Nabiki unmercifully, but she gave him better than she got. I mostly kept my mouth shut and let it all wash over me. It had been so long since I’d had a family dinner. It had been so long since I had a family. It was all kind of overwhelming. But that didn’t alter the fact that I was a stranger here, like the little match girl shivering outside the brightly lit shop window. Still, at least I got to enjoy it vicariously, so I wasn’t complaining.
I still felt a bit like a sore thumb. Much of the humor, being family humor, went right over my head. I just didn’t have the background to properly appreciate the jokes. Much of it seemed to be gender-based. Ranma attracted most of that, despite or perhaps because of his curse, but Tofu wasn’t immune to the gentle male-bashing either, and even I caught some of it. The women were a study in contrasts: Stoic Natsume was pure ‘hard school’ through and through: one got the impression that she could strike matches on her chin. Nabiki was witty and ironic: her usual cool demeanor, only played for laughs. Kasumi was quiet and kind. Kimiko was, well, five. Halfway through the meal she managed to spill her water in Ranma’s lap -- the reverse transformation was no less startling -- but the newly female redhead just laughed and accepted the good-natured ribbing about the loss of ‘her’ manhood by pointing out that it made for more room at the table. As for Kurumi… I found myself uncomfortably aware of her unmistakably female presence close at my side. I kept trying to remind myself that my bosses’ sister was forbidden fruit, without much success.
Ranma, it turned out, was the heir to the other family school of “Indiscriminate Grappling”, whatever the heck that was, and he, Natsume and Kurumi all taught at the dojo. Kurumi explained that it was a highly advanced school that combined techniques from many other schools--taking only the best from each--and that they only taught the most advanced students. I had no idea what she was talking about but I had to agree on the “advanced” part after watching Ranma and Natsume sparring. They’d done things I honestly believed were only possible in movies. As Kurumi explained it, Masubetsu Kakuto basically had three rules: Survive, Adapt, and Overcome.
It was eye opening. In a traditionalist society like Japan, a school of martial arts that cannibalized and recombined other schools bordered on sacrilege. No wonder this “Masubetsu Kakuto” wasn’t well known. When Ranma made it known that they only accepted students who already had a black belt from somewhere else I understood why the school wasn’t large. Still, it did give me some insight into Tendo-san. She may not have been a martial artist herself, but she’d obviously applied “Survive, Adapt, Overcome” to the business world with spectacular results.
It also wasn’t surprising that Kurumi explained it to me. I found myself quite taken with her, if only because her older sisters were all so intimidating. She was easily as sweet as Kasumi, but without the slightly off-putting maternal air. We got along famously, and I found myself hoping that I’d be invited back next week.
I could see the bottom of my inbox just as Saturday noon rolled around. Great. I thought to myself. I’ll just polish off these last few things, take a late lunch, and take the rest of the day off.
Unfortunately, fate, in the form of Koga, had other plans for me. I was just reaching for the last item when my supervisor appeared and dropped another thick bundle of documents on my blotter. Another one of his Sunday ‘projects’, it appeared. “Ah, Kakuji.” He smiled evilly. “It’s a good thing you’re still here. I’ve got another one that has to be done by Monday, I’m afraid.”
I don’t have time for that! Tendo-san told me to meet her at the dojo tomorrow! My first impulse was panic, but I quashed it ruthlessly. My second impulse was to invoke Tendo-san’s name, but I quashed that too: Koga had made it abundantly clear that he was the only one in his section allowed to deal directly with Tendo-san, and he’d surely find a way to make life hell for any subordinate who tried to go behind his back. So I was stuck with the third option, the one that I’d always avoided so far: sticking up for myself.
“I...I’m sorry sir, but I won’t be able to work tomorrow.”
Koga’s smile didn’t change, but a dangerous electricity seemed to fill the air. “That’s not the answer that I expected from you. I thought you were a team player. Just what is more important than helping your team?”
I successfully concealed my wince. Koga had a very interesting definition of ‘team player’: In his view ‘team players’ were the ones who aggrandized Koga. Fortunately, I realized that I had an unbeatable excuse: “I have to visit my Grandmother.” Koga failed to change expression, so I elaborated “...in the hospital.”
Koga’s raised a sardonic eyebrow. “So?”
For a brief moment, I thought my head might explode. Fortunately, I got hold of myself before anything much showed in my expression.
Koga’s expression didn’t change much either, but he seemed to be enjoying my discomfort. He let me stew for a long moment before his smile broadened into a grin. “Only joking son, only joking. I’ll overlook it this time,” he smirked, slapping me on the back a little too hard, “but please tell your grandmother not to let it happen again, eh?”
“Oh, I certainly will sir.” I answered back through bared teeth, hoping that it at least looked like a smile.
“I’ll see you on Monday, then.” Koga turned, making no move to retrieve the packet. Instead he nodded at it significantly. “Bright and early, hey?”
I just sat there staring at the papers for a long while after Koga left. Finally, I got to his feet and tossed my pen down on my desk in disgust. Screw this, I thought as I went to retrieve my jacket. I’m going home.
At least this time I’m spared the train I thought as I walked towards the Tendo dojo through the early spring chill. Tendo-san had insisted on giving me a ride to the nursing home and I hadn’t had the guts to refuse. I honestly think she was actually grateful for the company, though as usual it was hard to tell with Tendo-san. We parted in the lobby on the understanding that we would meet back there in an hour’s time and Tendo-san proceeded directly towards the elevators while I made my usual detour to the gift shop for more overpriced flowers. This time they were out of orchids and I had to settle for chrysanthemums instead.
Despite that slight hitch I was almost feeling decent as I rode the elevator this time, probably because my grief no longer felt like a burden I had to bear alone. Still, I schooled myself strongly not to intrude on Tendo-san, even telling myself to not even look down that branching corridor as I passed it on my way to Grandmother’s room. I made very sure that Tendo-san received her full hour plus a little more. Fortunately, passing the time wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be because I finally had some new and interesting things to tell my grandmother. Even the fact that she probably couldn’t hear any of it seemed a little less oppressive somehow.
Of course spring weather is always variable and the skies were threatening by the time we’d made it back to the dojo. I hoped that I was going to be invited to dinner again but Tendo-san didn’t say; In fact, Tendo-san didn’t talk much on the return trip at all. At least it was a fairly companionable silence. We’d scarcely made it around the corner of the hallway when Natsume stuck her head out of the large room opposite the kitchen.
“Nabiki! Boy, am I glad to see you. I can’t get these stupid books to balance no matter what I do, and it’s driving me crazy!”
Nabiki pulled up short. “Is the difference divisible by nine?”
“Hmmmm.” Natsume bit her tongue in concentration as she punched numbers into her calculator. “Yeah, as a matter of fact it is. Why?”
“It’s probably a transposition error, then. Those can be a real bugger to find. Give me a sec and I’ll help you track it down.” To me she said. “This might take a bit. Would you mind waiting in the tearoom?”
“Certainly not, Tendo-san.” I couldn’t help smiling as I looked around. The tearoom had to be the nicest room in the whole house, mainly due to its location in the southwest corner. The long roof overhangs must have kept it nice and shady in the summer, but right now it was bathed in the warm afternoon sunlight that must have filled it all winter long. The amado were closed against the raw march winds at the moment, but in the summer those outer rain doors would be slid back, changing the surrounding engawa from a corridor to a porch, and the fushama and shoji would be slid open to allow cooling breezes to flow through. The walls were white and there was no furniture beyond the table, one cupboard and--perhaps inevitably in Japan--a large television. It was beautifully simple, and simply beautiful. I took a deep breath and sighed.
“Do you like it, Kakuta-san?”
I looked up sharply. Kasumi was kneeling in a patch of warm sunlight overlooking the Koi pond. She’d been sitting so quietly that I hadn’t noticed her. “Yes, Ono-san. I do, very much. It’s a beautiful room.”
Kasumi smiled. “They say that when my great-great grandmother first saw this site she pulled out her hair-sticks and rammed them into the ground right beneath where I’m sitting to mark this very location for her tearoom. Supposedly great-great grandfather had to build the rest of the house around her.” She lifted a china pot from a lacquerware tray beside her. “Herbal Tea?”
My affirmative reply was cut off by the rapid tattoo of drumming feet as little Kimiko raced through the tearoom behind us, giggling madly. A very wet and fully female Ranma Saotome followed in hot pursuit.
“C’mere, you little…” Ranma was growling -- playfully, I hoped-- “and get the tickling you deserve!”
“No, Auntie, No!” Kimiko was shrieking as they disappeared around the kitchen corner.
Ono-san smiled indulgently and poured my tea as the two of them roared up the hallway towards the entryway, laughing and whooping. The whole house boomed as they thundered up the stairs.
I accepted the tea gratefully. “Thank you, Ono-san.” I took a sip. The tea had an odd, smoky flavor: different, but not unpleasant. I briefly wondered how Ono-san had known to make tea for two before I dismissed the thought as irrelevant. The serenity of the house restored, I couldn’t help comparing this warm, sunny room with my Grandmother’s tiny, cramped abode in the nearly perpetual shade of a large apartment block. Ironically, the garden had been the only sunny spot on the whole lot. In any event, there’d been no room for roughhousing…or anyone to roughhouse with. I nodded in the direction that the two… girls, I guess--at least for the moment--had gone. “It must have been wonderful growing up here.” If nothing else, this house must have been a glorious place to play hide-and-seek.
“Oh, yes.” Ono-san sighed. “It really was an idyllic childhood.” Then she looked wistful. “At least it was until mother died.”
“I’m sorry, Ono-san, if I…”
“Not at all, Kakuta-san. It’s not your fault. I was about to say that it was also idyllic afterwards, from time to time. Even tragedy can’t fully erase childhood.” She smiled sadly. “We’d have enough fun to forget sometimes, at least for a little while.” Then she straightened, and seemed to shake off her melancholy. “Would you like me to go tell Kurumi you’re here?” She began to get to her feet.
Suffering Kami, am I that transparent? “No, Ono-san, you don’t have…”
“I feel so stupid. I can’t believe it was something that simple. I must have checked that stupid debits column a million times.” Natsume was telling Nabiki as they entered from the corridor. “Why are transposition errors always divisible by nine?”
“Accounting’s all algebra, Natsume. You know, the stuff you knew you’d never, ever need again after high school?” Nabiki teased gently. “Don’t worry, sometimes spotting this stuff just takes a fresh pair of eyes. As for the last bit, how the heck should I know? I’m no mathematician; I just know that it works…” Her face grew concerned as she looked past me. “Kasumi? Are you OK?”
I turned in surprise. Ono-san was bent over, looking quite green. She took a deep breath and straightened. “Just a touch of indigestion, imouto-chan. I must have stood up too quickly.”
“If you say so.” Nabiki responded, eyeing her with concern. Then she turned to me. “Kakuji, would you mind waiting here a while longer? I need to talk to my sisters for a moment.”
“Certainly, Tendo-san.”
She turned to leave, then suddenly turned back, grinning wickedly “Oh, and if you see Kurumi, tell her it’s girl talk in the kitchen.”
I tried manfully not to blush. Maybe I am that transparent. “Of course, Tendo-san.”
“If you’ll excuse us…” Tendo-san and her sisters disappeared into the kitchen.
At loose ends, I turned away from the door and wandered over towards the opposite side of the tearoom to ensure that I wouldn’t overhear anything that I shouldn’t. For once I was determined not to let my curiosity get the better of me. The décor largely matched the traditional style of the house, right down to a very traditional looking botsudon mounted near the ceiling. The family shrine bore two framed photographs: a longhaired man and a shorthaired woman, apparently Tendo-san’s parents. The woman’s picture was much older and quite faded, but I couldn’t help noticing that Kasumi resembled their mother while Tendo-san favored their father, though they both resembled each other more than either parent. I swallowed and looked away. Below the shrine was an arrangement of family photographs, and my eye was inexorably drawn to the largest picture in the center: three teenaged girls standing by the koi pond in the garden.
I couldn’t help studying it. Kasumi looked pretty much the same as she did today, a smiling young woman with her long hair in a loose ponytail and wearing a pretty, if conservative, housedress, standing with her hands clasped demurely in front of her. Her smile was broader though, without the underlying sadness that tinged it now. Tendo-san, on the other hand, couldn’t have looked any more different: The Nabiki in the photo was a cheery-looking girl dressed casually in a striped shirt and green overalls, her hands jammed jauntily in her pockets and a broad grin on her face. She looked like she’d just finished telling a joke: about as far from today’s dour executive as it was possible to get. The girl in the middle, the one I didn’t recognize, must have been Akane.
I found it impossible not to stare at her. Standing, Akane was noticeably shorter than either of her sisters, and also noticeably stockier. She looked both more athletic and more adolescent than her sisters. Of the three of them she alone looked like she had yet to achieve her full growth: more of a girl, less of a woman. Perhaps that was due to the way she carried herself; the unconscious self-consciousness of adolescence. Was that a slight shy uncertainty in her smile, or was I trying to read too much into it? Of all of the girls, she was the one who most resembled her mother, right down to her pageboy haircut. It was odd to think that her hair had always been that short: until now I’d assumed that it had been cropped for easier maintenance in the hospital. Other than the hair, though, she didn’t look anything at all like the emaciated, tube-fed wraith we’d visited this morning. I swallowed: seeing her happy and healthy made her current state seem that much more poignant.
Then it hit me just why I found the photo so disturbing. A three-person photograph is considered a very bad omen in Japan, promising death or illness to the person in the center. Obviously, that was a superstition that the otherwise very traditional Tendos didn’t share. Discomfited, I quickly turned to the other photos that clustered about the large central photo like a constellation: Natsume and Kurumi, both alone and together, the former showing them in kimono at a lantern festival; Ranma in unguarded moments in both of his forms; a gag picture of Nabiki’s father pretending to play shogi with an inexplicable panda; Kimiko of course, as a baby, toddler and little girl, both with and without her parents; and finally Akane again, with long hair this time, wearing a yellow gi and a look of intense concentration as she rammed her fist through a cinderblock, the shattered fragments caught suspended by the flash, a twinkling cloud of destruction.
“Like them?” Tendo-san asked behind me. I just managed to avoid jumping like a cat.
“Yes” I replied. “They are quite good.” I wasn’t lying, either. The photos were better than the average family snapshot. I let my gaze wander back to a certain photo. “Did you take them?”
“Most of them. Photography used to be a hobby of mine, not that I have much time for it any more.” She indicated the picture I was looking at. “Not that one, of course.”
“Your sister was quite cute, wasn’t she?” I couldn’t prevent myself from saying it. Sometimes, I think my tongue is worse than my curiosity, when it comes to getting me in trouble.
Fortunately, Tendo-san was not offended. “Yes, she was.” My eyes widened a little as Tendo-san clapped her hands twice and bowed to the botsudan. It was a surprisingly traditional gesture for her to make, though somehow traditional gestures did not seem out of place here. Once again, I contemplated the enigma that was Tendo-san. She seemed to exemplify traditional Japanese culture even as she turned it on its head. Then I felt a little guilty for not showing my respects to her family shrine: as a practicing agnostic I have little use for such things but this is Japan where one must always make the appropriate gesture, empty or not.
Tendo-san opened her eyes and straightened. Turning back to me, she stated: “Kakuji, I’m afraid I can’t invite you to stay for dinner tonight. We’re having a family meeting.” Then she smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll convey your greetings to my… to everyone.”
I swallowed, carefully prevented my gaze from returning to a certain photo. Was I being that obvious about my interest in Tendo-san’s youngest sister? What if she objected? Was I getting too close to Tendo-san? What if I got trapped between her and Koga at work? “Thank you, Tendo-san.”
Fortunately, Tendo-san seemed more amused than anything. Now that I’d gotten to know her a little, I’d come to recognize her sardonic sense of humor. “And on that note, I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Yes, Tendo-san.” Bowing properly, I took my leave.
I sighed as I walked up the street towards my dingy little apartment. Maybe I’d set my expectations too high, but I would have loved another home cooked meal. But it was not to be. Still, that left me at loose ends for dinner. I decided that I’d finally try that Okonomiyaki place I’d been hearing so much about.
Even though it had been years since Nabiki had lived at home, it still seemed like only yesterday that she’d last climbed the stairs to the second floor. True, the sign on her old bedroom door was long gone and the one on Kasumi’s old room now read “Kimiko”, but otherwise the upstairs was largely unchanged, right down to two more-or-less permanent occupants in the guestroom. She’d tried to convince either Natsume or Kurumi to take her old room but they’d both refused, claiming that they preferred to stay together.
Nabiki turned right at the end of the stair hall, padded softly past her own, now nameless, bedroom and gently opened the last door on the left. Akane’s room hadn’t been touched since her illness. Everything -- from the duck-shaped nameplate on the door to the yellowed manga she’d never finished reading -- was exactly as her little sister had left it. Nabiki could clearly see Akane’s favorite yellow gi peeking out of the half-open closet. Even her Furinkan uniform was still hanging in its place by the door, ready for a Monday that was now almost ten years in the past. Nabiki sighed heavily and sat down on the bed. The room was immaculate, despite its decade-long disoccupation; just how Kasumi could stand cleaning in here Nabiki couldn’t say.
For a long time Nabiki just sat there with soft, unfocused eyes; looking at everything in general and nothing in specific, the only sound coming from the soft scritch, scritch, scritch of the decorative clock on the headboard. Nabiki reached over and gently lifted it from its stand. It wasn’t anything very fancy, just a little piece of porcelain: a floral patterned plate fitted with an inexpensive quartz movement, a pretty thing of no consequence that exemplified her little sister’s simple, girlish tastes. Akane had won it at a fair; she’d always been lucky that way. Amazingly, the fragile ceramic keepsake had somehow survived all of the mayhem that had taken place in this room unscathed: the battles with, between, and among Kodachi, Ranma, Ryoga, Shampoo, Happousai, and God alone knew who else had all failed to destroy it. In a way, the clock perfectly represented Akane herself: A pretty, delicate-seeming thing that had somehow proven to be virtually indestructible.
But not totally indestructible Nabiki thought as she carefully replaced the clock back where it belonged. She took another look around the room before she squeezed her eyes shut and dropped her face into her hands. She’d come here seeking some sense of Akane’s presence, some lingering essence of her baby sister, but nothing remained. All of her sister’s possessions were here, but the room itself felt sterile, dead, more like a display room in a museum house then a real bedroom, lacking only a velvet rope across the doorway to complete the effect: a generic girl’s room from the late 20th century instead of the place where her sister had lived her tragically shortened life. Please, little sister, lend my some of your strength: I’m about to hurt all of the people we love…
“Nabiki?” She looked up. Kasumi was standing in the doorway. “Everyone is downstairs waiting for you.”
“Thanks, Kasumi.” Nabiki stood up, needlessly brushing her hands on her slacks. “And Kimiko?”
“Kimiko is visiting her grandmother.” Kasumi replied softly, averting her eyes. Nabiki followed her sister’s gaze, her eyes making one last circuit of the room before they came to rest on the clock one last time.
“Kasumi?” Nabiki asked, turning back to her sister. “Do you know what I’m going to say?”
Kasumi nodded slowly. “I’ve got a fairly good idea, yes.”
Nabiki swallowed. “Am I doing the right thing?”
Kasumi came over and embraced her. “I don’t know. What I do know is this: all you can do is follow your heart, and hope that it all works out in the end.”
“Thanks, Oneechan.” Nabiki whispered.
“Now come on,” Kasumi told her, giving her one last squeeze before she turned to go. “It’s not polite to keep people waiting.”
Nabiki nodded without speaking, and the two sisters left to face the rest of their family, shutting the door on the empty room behind them.
Several kilometers away in the northwest corner of the Nakano ward a tiny figure in a flowered yukata paused briefly in the stygian darkness beneath a freeway overpass. Then, leaning forward as if bucking a heavy wind, it resumed its slow but steady progress towards the northwest and Nerima, each painstaking step marked by a tiny creak of unlubricated wood.
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