Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Memoirs of being in the Saddle ❯ Learning the layout ( Chapter 4 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

=-=-=-=

Now, I was not some muscled Adonis with thews of iron, nor some pretty-boy with insane hair and roses, in fact, thanks to my life I had a bit of a pudgy gut that I covered up with suits when I worked.

And that was the key. I looked harmless. Not that fake harmless that Cologne and Happosai used, but actually harmless. 

And so what if I wasn't lean and mean, what the hell good would that do in this neighborhood?

I saw that Hibiki kid once hug a telephone pole and moosh it like a tube of toothpaste.

I had to patch deep holes where he absentmindedly poked in my outer walls with his finger by accident. And I weigh easily twice what he does.

So yeah, masculine pride could sit in the goddamn corner where it wouldn't get me killed. I said I wasn't stupid after all.

 

And that was my ticket in.

I wasn't a martial artist.

I had no vast ki reserves to sense, no subtle body posture hinting at a sneak attack.

I wasn't any sort of threat whatsoever.

Even later on, when Ranma had that ultimate weakness thing done to him and was as weak as a literal baby, I'm fairly certain he could still kick the crap outta me. 

 

Well that, and I was in the exact opposite direction to the Tendo house from the school. The shortest route to the ice cream shop.

 

One that a female Ranma would go roaming past often, sometimes buying, sometimes trying to get some for free.

 

On the way back, she would meet me.

 

 

=-=-=-=

 

My initial forays in establishing a connection was by becoming the anti-water ladle lady.

 

I'd better back up and explain that a bit. 

 

There's a lady, whose name I won't mention as she's still quite vicious despite her age, and she's lived in Nerima for a long, long time. She's seen some shit, and nothing bothers her at this point. Not martial arts, not explosions, not nothing. 

 

Except for dust.

 

Now her steps are dusty, her lungs a bit wheezy from smoking in her youth, so to keep the coughs down she hits them with a bit of water. 

 

And Ranma fairly often, as it happens to turns out. I think it's a game to her.

 

After spending a bit of time at the ice cream shop, or, pretty much anywhere away from the Tendo's really, Ranma, usually a bit drier but not always, would eventually head back.

 

And pass me.

 

Now I did time these things carefully. I was never seen squabbling into position, nothing ever suspicious. 

I'd be sitting out on the bench I had bought and properly cushioned for two, I'd always have a small box of cookies next to me, and a thermos of hot water for my tea, which I never prepared beforehand, and a newspaper which obscured exactly how long I had been sitting there. 

 

It started out roughly forty-five minutes or so, but I refined it down to twenty.

I'd be sitting, sipping tea and reading the newspaper, and there would trudge Ranma, usually looking a bit forlorn and vulnerable. A posture he never took as a man, no matter how bad it was. And Ranma wouldn't take it as a girl unless he -she- was alone.

 

She'd seen the thermos I was pouring to make tea the first time.

The second time she passed by me, she eyed it but said nothing.

The third time she asked for a little hot water.

I gave her the thermos and didn't say a thing when she became a he. He shook himself off while the water was still warm, thanked me, and went on his way.

The next time she came by I offered it without a word.

The time after that I had placed a small towel by my cookies. It'd be a few more trips until he'd dry his hair after he was done.

 

And so it went. Here I was, younger than his father, older than the hormone-laden teenage fiancée doom patrol, someone who didn't judge him or flip out or stare at the freak or pervert like Akane would often call him.

I was just a nice guy who read a newspaper and offered hot water when he needed it.

 

It would take a while before he asked my name, longer still before we'd talk more than a single sentence in passing. 

 

=-=-=-=

 

Now it sounds like I was I was doing nothing but sit there, oh no, I was busy.

 

I had two jobs. Both involved my specialty, both were intermittent with their hours. One paid far better than the other.

 

Don't judge me, someone has to hold the camera.

And I was damn good at what I did.

 

What I meant about 'not commenting on it' a ways back was that, in my primary job, I didn't get to cover any real news.

They clamped down on it really hard.

I could hold a camera and film a charity bake-off, or a regional marathon when it passed by our area, or an idol doing something mindless and safe, but not nothing weird. 

- Kuno with a giant fucking bird on his head? Nope.

- The aforementioned Minotaur who could fly? Nada.

- That time that Happosai and Genma briefly grew to kaiju sized proportions? Never gonna happen.

 

But they paid surprisingly well for very little work. Hush money I can only imagine, but from who, and why?

I was curious, but not that curious. Whomever I probed could easily poke back, and I knew far more than most that I wasn't invincible.

I could endure a large amount of pain, had, as a matter of fact. That didn't mean I wanted more.

 

So, I had the money and time and a second job for more money and a chance to keep my skills sharp. 

 

And now I had a goal.

 

I just needed to get closer. To learn more than the regular gossip.

 

=-=-=-=

 

I am glossing over a lot, I know, but I can't give you lot too much information, you might figure out who I am.

 

Anyhoo, my opportunity came when a window- and a wall- was broken for the sixth or seventh time.

 

You are well aware no doubt, of that neighbor lady who splashes Ranma with water all the time. I've mentioned her a bit before after all, but you have to understand, she's on the way TO Furinkan, and her side of the house faces all three Tendo Daughter's rooms.

Those broke a lot less.

 

Ever think of the other neighbor, the one on Soun's side? Ranma and Genma's side? Yeah, there was a fair bit more damage on that end, and sometimes people or animals would come flying through a window, open or not, or worse, through the wall. And when Ryoga was around, someone was definitely going through a house wall and into or through an outer wall, he was strong and it took a lot to put him down as time went on.

 

Now, Tendo paid for the wall repairs, as I said he had some money, but he didn't cover other stuff. They, the older couple who lived there, were too polite and old-fashioned to bring it up, and it did hamper them a fair bit. They didn't have that much money squirreled away. Especially after the third or fourth time it happened.

 

But they were old and proud and too stubborn to take charity, so I had to think of a solution that'd soothe that.

 

Isn't it obvious?

I rented a room.

The one facing in a straight line to Ranma's.

The one that had had man and duck and pig sent through it on occasion.

Their dead son's room, though at this point there wasn't much left of his for them to cherish, and what was kept on the opposite side of the house as far away from the Tendo's as possible. 

 

Now, they knew who I was and that I lived maybe fifteen minutes away, so why'd I rent a room from them? 

 

I'll tell you what I told them.

"I have something I'm working on, a masterpiece, but I find I can't work on it at my home. So, I'll come here and pay you. That'll make sure I get work done on it."

I implied it was a book. It wasn't, but it really was a masterpiece I was working on.

 

They accepted, pride soothed that I wasn't giving them charity. It didn't hurt my reputation with the neighborhood old-timers any either. I was now the decent guy who was helping out the family that had to be next to ground zero in Nerima.

 

And now I had a room with a perfect view of the action. A room I put a desk and a laptop (not that I'd put it on my lap, the damn thing weighed close to ten pounds in those days) and a thick sturdy box on the side of the room next to a window, ostensibly to shield me from anything coming through said window.

The box I filled with a good camera, directional microphone, and lots of film.

 

On the evenings I didn't work, often I'd go there, work on the now ancient computer, and listen.

 

Gossip had nothing on the real source.

 

=-=-=-=

 

The Japanese language has a lot of subtlety to the ear that one cannot get from second hand sources. That my view also covered their yard, and when it was warm enough, where they ate, I confirmed a lot of things I had long suspected.

 

-The youngest girl had been thrown under the metaphorical bus by the older two when the father and son were revealed to also be panda and daughter. It was a fact she still resented long after things were now common. The other two didn't seem to notice though. Or maybe care?

-The oldest was stuck in a traditional role, more of habit and a dead mother than any real desire, the middle sibling rebelled in hairstyle and creed and activity. The youngest tried to do both, but gradually went her own way.

-Akane seemed to have some actual feelings for Ranma, but that was hampered by the gender swapping. Akane was firmly heterosexual, and that fact made her react reflexively and quite poorly at times.

-Both of the fathers were pushing far harder than they should have, Tendo seemingly following the lead of Genma. The reason for Genma's urgent momentum was obvious when the fiancées started becoming plural, but Soun kept at it. 

-Soun was quite good at accidentally seeing more of Ranma than he should have. They laughed it off, but I saw how Soun's eyes would sometimes linger a bit. It had been a long time since his wife had died.

-Ranma talked a fair bit more at the Tendo house than one would think. Now, his accent sounded both rough AND coarse, but it was rapidly apparent that he wasn't nearly as stupid as he sounded. His accent was literally assembled from a dozen different small town and village dialects up and down Japan, everywhere he'd trained a grown up. He pronounced several of his words exactly like Hibiki did, some with an Osakan trill, some clearly with an emphasis that came from Hokkaido, and a fair amount an with Okinawan basis. You could almost map how and where he'd grown up if you weren't a Tokyo Lifer.

-Ranma hated pity and debt more than anyone I've ever met. Nabiki milked that fact without wondering why.

-And despite all the crap Genma had pulled, will pull, and was probably pulling right now, Ranma nearly always tried his various suggestions at least once -or at least his interpretation of them. A habit no doubt hammered into him by Genma.

 

And so much more. 

 

And when I wasn't there, I'd have two days or so of tape running, and I'd trim and reuse the quiet bits when I'd pick them up. This was before the fancy digital age, and why waste perfectly reusable film?

 

I built a map of Ranma Saotome's life. A chart of strengths and weakness. Highs and lows.

 

And that let me time things even better. 

 

I told you it was an obsession.