Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Memoirs of being in the Saddle ❯ The admission ( Chapter 17 )

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

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My house was quickly spotless. 

As was my yard, my roof, and underneath the floorboards.

 

With about a third of what he owed me taken care of by now, at standard housekeeping rates, Ranma was quickly running out of things to do. 

I told him I didn't mind, but it rankled something fierce within him, as I knew it would, and he resolved to find something, anything he could do.

 

Which led to us talking. Rather, I offered it as an option.

When there were dry spells and nothing he could do for me, we talked a bunch. Mostly about Ranma's life, his adventures, where he'd been, what he'd learned. In exchange, I'd chip off his debt at half of what I was counting at his hourly pay.

He wouldn't accept more than that as he didn't think 'just talking' was all that valuable, doing things was where he placed his value. 

And so, Ranma told me tales of his youth, some of the things I really hope are embellished a lot cause god damn.

 

The Neko-Ken, the Dragon's Whisker, the Amazons, battles all over China, his travels up and down Japan, and more. All told to me by the star of the stories himself. And herself.

But his memory, as fiancées and old rivals had quickly found out, was pretty dodgy at times, and soon the easy and light-hearted tales ran dry.

That led us both to my next intended stop, uncomfortable topics. Ones you really needed to have, but equally you really didn't want to happen.

And since they were often uncomfortable, I made a proposal; He could take it as cash or, in trade. 

Information for information.

 

It was only for a half hour here, an hour there, maybe once a week or two he'd have an entire afternoon to himself. Sometimes he had a random evening if Akane was pissed.

After all, Nabiki was on the warpath something fierce. She still hadn't figured out how Ranma had beat her, and that made her even less pleasant than usual. Hence, after school he'd often go hurtling off in one direction too fast for any non-martial artist to follow, and carefully meet me on the street. 

And, often scare the crap out of me by seemingly appearing out of nowhere in my house, at least until I got more motion sensors on every damn window tied to the living room and my work room.

In any event, after a few near heart attacks, and one time where sheer luck had me shut off the TV seconds before she came around the corner, I put my foot down and said enough was enough: sneak in if you must, but knock once you're on the inside.

 

Naturally, a day later I nearly shat myself when I closed the refrigerator door and found Ranma sitting in his, rather her usual chair. 

 

I was about to snap at her, but then I stopped and looked at her. 

She had the strangest look on her face.

"Mom took me bra shopping."

Ah. That explained it.

 

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I knew only a little about her, 'Auntie' Nodoka didn't have a set schedule, I could rely upon, and she remained the biggest piece of the puzzle I was working on.

 

Apparently, Ranma had been quite smug at the dinner table about how her chest was even bigger than ever.

You'd think it was an odd conversation to have, but it was her current defense mechanism she'd built against Nabiki's snide jabs at how the boys loved to look at her. Hiroshi and Daisuke's antics still pained her.

 

It was sheer egotistical vanity as a verbal offense. 

Ask anyone, Ranma was awesome, guy, girl, didn't matter. He kicked ass, she had a fabulous one, it made for an excellent shield for their brief, hostile conversations. Nabiki still didn't realize that she was firmly in the enemy camp, beyond Kuno, and that Ranma had been trying tactic after verbal tactic until he found one that worked against the moneygrubber.

 

Anything goes after all.

 

Akane was equally annoyed and amused by it, depending if she was the target, and Kasumi, who seemingly knew the reason behind the the two fighting, remained neutral and seemingly vapid. But she was a sharp one, and Ranma quickly learned never to try any of his verbal sparring against her. 

She'd just smile, agree with you, and then lay waste with a seemingly vapid comment or observation. Like an Iai strike from Kenjutsu.

 

Anyway, as luck and karma would have it, Nodoka had come by, overheard the boast, and decided to take the two young ladies bra shopping.

 

Ranma's mouth, meet foot.

What happened during that was what was interesting.

In the changing booths, away from prying ears, 'Ranko' had asked 'Auntie' some girl questions. And Auntie was delighted to answer. 

And when they got to the subject of getting felt up...

"Of course it felt good, it's supposed to." Nodoka smiled at the blushing girl in front of her. "It doesn't make up for all the hardships we ladies have to face, but it's something at least."

 

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"So," she said without looking up from her glass of soda, "To answer the question you first put to me, the answer is: Some of it, yes." 

 

That silence was the sound major milestone dropping. 

 

"Now, as we agreed," she finally looked up from her cup. "If I figure it out, and I tell you, would you tell me..."

I nodded. I had agreed to it and my word must remain above reproach. "If it'll help you."

I didn't go fetch myself a harder drink, though I really wanted to, I had to keep the image of a strong character with no fear about any part of himself.

 

So instead I took a breath and then I started to answer.

 

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"I like to watch." 

 

And so I explained my own Alpha and Omega to Ranma.

And yes, the missing leg is part of the reason. Perhaps I've always had that quality and losing the leg exposed it earlier than I would have had it, but, there it is.

I had to do something, I had to find anything to fill that damn void in my life, and I had to do it while stuck in a wheelchair as my stump slowly healed.

Sure, I was an honorary member of the Track Team still, but I couldn't even climb the stairs to where the club room was, there were no elevators, and this was a fair bit before computers really took off.

 

And so it started with a camera. A cheap one, I still have it, somewhere.

 

"I think it was the fact that I could capture a frozen moment and hold it in my hand." I mused, looking idly at the ceiling. "I couldn't run after anything anymore, but the flash of a camera is faster still. It let me be there, in the moment, like I was just running behind them while still in the chair."

I found that I was naturally good at it. And I had plenty of time to get even better.

Film came next, once it became cheap enough to do. I started with filming a Track Team, a University one, as they ran. They started using my crude tapes to see where their problems were and improved. They won a local tournament.

 

I suddenly had worth.

 

I expanded into wildlife filming and photography while still in university, for no one has the patience like a man who can't walk away easily. Catching brief glimpses, laying still for hours, moving slowly and silently upwind. I was very good.

Then I moved into journalism after I graduated. Not long after that I moved into what I defined as intimate journalism.

Same techniques really, just aiming at cunts lower case instead of Cunts uppercase.

 

Speaking of that...

 

"One moment." I got up and went upstairs into my work room, coming back down with one of my custom camera stands.

"You martial artists love naming stances and techniques right?" She nodded.

Ranma watched as I clicked my metal leg into the special notch. The stand had a titanium core, and I could put most of my weight on it easily.

 

"Secret Camera technique: African Herdsman Stance!"

 And I leaned into the stand in what others described as 'that standing-crouching thing you do'.

 "I can hold steady for hours if need be, no fidgeting thanks to the distribution of weight. I can pan and sweep by leaning back, or bending my knee, and get angles that most cameraman don't dare try. And if I have to redeploy a short distance away..." I half walked, half crutched across the room, hands holding an imaginary camera in place, using the stand as both a cane and a leg. "I can be moved and ready in seconds."

Still connected to the stand, I swept into a grandiose bow as Ranma clapped. She might have actually been impressed for all I know.

A quick twist and my leg came free. I marched back into my chair, limping only slightly.

 

"The problem is," I said as I carefully sat back down, leg tapping my chair ever so quietly. "There aren't a lot of women that want to be with a man who's not all there." 

That earned me a flinch from Ranma, who had no doubt heard something similar from Akane or Nabiki. 

"I've tried dating, sometimes by telling them first thing about the leg, sometimes keeping it hidden until we're in the bedroom, but it averages out to a really low rate of success in my college years." 

I shrugged, sipping my own soda slightly. "It's been some time since I've been with a woman, and I still have needs, so..." I looked over towards the locked cabinet. "I found out I liked to watch that too."

 

And make it myself, but I don't think Ranma would be ready for that piece of information for some time.

Ranma's gaze also went to that cabinet. "That's where the tape you showed me came from?"

I nodded, technically that was the cabinet where all my originals were, but the same thing really.

 

I swept my arms in a grand gesture encompassing the kitchen. "So, as we agreed Ranma, to answer the question as a whole: You sometimes like to get felt up, and I, I like to watch." I shrugged, deliberately not noticing how that made Ranma flinch. "That's who we are. And there's nothing wrong with that."

 

"Y-yeah." Ah, Ranma's horrible poker face. I'd heard stories about the battle against the Gambling King. It was even worse than I imagined.

Desperate to swing the talk away from herself, Ranma pulled a tiny little 'Saotome Special'. AKA. Foot-in-Mouth-technique.

"I don't get it." She said a touch quickly. "It's not that bad." She gestured downwards at my leg then at me with her glass. "Your face has just faint scars, it isn't mangled or anything. Sure you aren't as awesome as I am, but then who is?"

 

The ego barrier technique. Ranma must be feeling really uncomfortable about the revelation I'd given. 

Best to swing back. I couldn't just sit there and take it.

"My goodness! A compliment, it's been ever so long." I wasn't intentionally trying to talk like Kasumi, but I've heard so much footage over the months. "You know, you're the first thing that has tits that's said that to me in over ten years?" 

By then Ranma realized the gaff she had said, and then found herself choking on her cola as she processed my reply. I smirked while sipping my own cola.

 

We were both smiling wryly at this point. 

 

I swept my glass forward. "A toast!" 

Ranma looked at me. "To what?"

"To stumps!"

There was a few seconds pause before Ranma's glass came up to clink against mine.

"To tits!"

 

We both chuckled for a while then fell into a comfortable silence. We were relaxed now, no booze needed.

After a minute I decided to see just how relaxed it was. "All right, now you got me curious." I gestured at her chest. "You just got them measured recently, so how big are they?"

She looked down at them, opened her mouth, closed it, and then smirked.

 

"Oh, they're pretty big, but," she drawled. "If you want to talk numbers then I want numbers from you." She gestured back with her own glass. "Like your birthday."

Her smirk widened just a touch as I flinched, then scowled, mostly at the fact that I had flinched. 

Ranma had asked my age one time and was surprised at how vehemently I had declined to answer. And she remembered.

 

Damnit. 

 

I missed a birthday while I was in a month long coma, and after that... well, kids didn't want to go to a cripples party I found out. I hadn't celebrated it since.

But those numbers would be so damn useful...

 

I sighed and rattled off a date, then rolled my eyes and pulled out my ID card with the same date on it as proof. She cheered as she jotted the number down on a scrap of paper. 

When she was done, I gestured for my turn. Still smiling at her victory, she rattled off her own set of numbers. Naturally I made her roll her eyes in return when I demanded proof of my own. She pulled out of her pocket the measurement card from the lingerie shop her mother had dragged her off to. 

I rattled all the numbers off out loud in varying tones of disbelief, mostly for the benefit of my tape recorder. And to tease, naturally. 

 

All the measurements, not just the standard three sizes.

Ever so useful, those.

 

Blushing, she snatched the card back when I was finished and was ready to bring the verbal war back to me when I held my hand up in surrender while chuckling.

"That all you got?" She said archly. 

"Nah, but, it's getting late." Not the hour, but in how much time Ranma could afford to be away before the Tendos got restless. He did spend a lot of time away from them both 'training' at my place and actually training, often in the lot next door or nearby.

 

She sighed, both at the end of the battle/chat we'd just had, and at the thought of going back to the Tendos. 

"Oh yeah, one bit of advice for you." I offered as we made our way to the back door. 

She raised an eyebrow and waited for me to continue.

"Girls underwear, especially all the silky stuff, needs special washing." She nodded slightly, probably heard it at the store where she got it. "I'd suggest asking Kasumi about it after Nabiki's gone to bed." My face turned serious. "After all, it's a gift from your mother. You don't want Nabiki doing anything to it."

She looked startled at that fact, clearly she hadn't seen it as anything more than a nuisance. She nodded, slowly.

 

And then she was off.

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