I had some ideas for a Disgaea game, but since I didn't expect anyone of importance from Nippon Ichi to take the time to read anything from me (much less use it), I decided to just go ahead and incorporate them into a story instead of letting them go to waste. Well, they may be trash to begin with, but still.
This story is the first of a planned trilogy. It's mostly to establish the premise and set the stage for future events, so don't expect anything epic. At this stage, the series involved will be Ranma 1/2, Disgaea (in general) and Sailor Moon, but there will be more in the second and third stories.
Considering what Ranma will become, I feel it necessary to make the following clear from the outset: this story will not have adult content. Aside from personal preference, and out of consideration for the nature of the series involved (which do not have adult content), Ranma's already been down the adult path more often than not in this regard. So, yeah.
On a related note, if one worries about such words as "locked" and "forever," especially together, I would like to think that such concerns will be unfounded. For anyone who's familiar with a certain aspect of the Disgaea series, the answer as to why that would be the case should be obvious. Otherwise, if the main issue is caused by Ranma being a girl throughout a story regardless: I think I've given a fair enough warning.
As Ranma walked along a fence that overlooked a canal, he thought back on what had happened earlier, when he and his father had accompanied the Tendo family to visit the grave of Sonomi, their wife and mother. Inevitably, the subject of said person had been brought up, which had led to a question about his own mother.
To him, the weird part about what had happened wasn't the fact that he couldn't remember his mother, much less whether she lived or not: but that his father had tried to claim that he had given birth to him himself. He didn't know the reason for why he had been evasive about it, but he figured that his mother had to be some kind of weirdo for her to marry someone like his father, anyway.
And did it really matter whether he had a mother or not? It's not like he'd ever thought about it seriously before, so what difference would it make? Even if he had little in the way of good things to say about his father, he'd gotten along just fine without a mother. He'd be lying to himself if he said that he wasn't curious about what it would be like to have one, but he could otherwise live without knowing.
He was brought out of his thoughts by an irregularity beneath his feet. Realizing that the section of fence that he was walking across was unstable, he jumped off of it before it broke away and fell into the canal below. Unfortunately, his relief was short-lived because the section of the fence that he had escaped to had broken away as soon as he had landed on it, which sent him into the water of the canal anyway.
Now wet and female, her mood soured. She sat in the water for a moment, cursing her luck, before she got up and jumped out of the canal. As she shook the water out of her hair, she wondered if she'd ever get rid of her curse. Aside from the inconvenience of when and where she changed sex, there was another, more serious reason for why she didn't want to live with her curse for any length of time that was longer than necessary — and it had nothing to do with simply being a girl.
As she wrung out the bottom half of her shirt, she noticed a middle-aged man out of the corner of her eye. He was pruning one of the shrubs along the walkway that led up to the front door of his house, but — instead of paying attention to what he was doing — he only had eyes for her body. To be more precise: he was staring at her chest, and how her soaked shirt conformed to its contours.
She wasn't disgusted by the act of ogling itself. Rather, it was because some part of her enjoyed the attention. It always galled her how much more positive attention her female body attracted than her male body, which only seemed to attract girls who were violent, obsessive, domineering, self-centered, crazy, or a combination thereof. She was loath to admit it, but she preferred the perverted stares — and the occasional grope — of guys to the kind of attention that she tended to attract from girls when she was a guy.
The problem — as she saw it — was that she was finding it more difficult to pass up opportunities where she could take advantage of a guy while she was a girl. Guys might hit on her, sure, but at least it wasn't in the literal sense: guys didn't call her a pervert and assault her in various ways in order to chase her out of the men's side of anything when she was a girl.
In addition to that, not only did she prefer female disguises, but on occasion she had more fun as a girl for one reason or another, to the point where she might decide to go to a festival as a girl instead of as a guy. And if that wasn't bad enough, she had to put some effort into preventing herself from doing any of those things nowadays, instead of it being a non-issue.
She didn't know if it was the food and gifts that she got for little or nothing, the sense of empowerment, being able to take advantage of guys who took it easy — if they fought back at all — when they fought girls, or simply the attention and admiration: she feared that there might come a time when she wouldn't be able to help wanting to be a girl around guys, regardless of reason or excuse. In particular, she was afraid that she might come to like guys in that way.
Not that she would ever admit that to anyone; as it was, she didn't even like to think about it. She might like having her ego stroked, in whatever form it may come in, but romance and sex with guys, as a girl, was out of the question — which, of course, had nothing to do with the fact that she wasn't even ready for romance and sex as a man. However, that was beyond the point: she was a man, and a man didn't like other men romantically or sexually. Well, they could, and some did, but... just not her!
"Stupid curse," she muttered, before she picked up her wet shoes and began to make her way home.