Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Memoirs of being in the Saddle ❯ Being trusted: The first lesson ( Chapter 29 )

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

 

=-=-=-=

 

After 'our time at the pool', as we ended up calling it, we grew closer in subtle ways.

 

I was trusted. 

In Ranma's eyes, I had earned it. 

 

When she was bathing at my place two days later after a vigorous bit of training, there was no bucket of hot water kept nearby any more, no shying away from the door, no cautious gaze or ear listening for my footsteps. 

And she didn't tense, even when I tossed things into the washing machine the next room over, not even when I knocked and asked her what she'd like to eat.

 

My videotapes rejoiced, if you can imagine. A relaxed Ranma is an open Ranma, and an open Ranma lets my camera see everything.

 

A week later, when the Tendos decided all to go to the beach, Ranma asked to borrow the suit. 

I agreed, and even tossed her a new bottle of suntan lotion, not the lube.

"Stay away from the oils," I mock cautioned. "Unless you want to give everyone a free show."

 

The old Ranma would have flinched, lashed out verbally, or treated it like Nabiki's barbed snipes. 

But I was trusted, and she knew it wasn't meant in any sort of malice. 

 

"No worries about that." She smirked easily, taking both suit and lotion from me. "Just gonna enjoy me some sun."

 

Naturally I did not. I avoided the heat with my AC that day and relaxed as well as I could, scars and stump permitting. But idle curiosity of the end result meant I got my foot back on with a minimum of fuss and grumbling and made my way over to my listening spot in the somewhat cooler early evening.

 

In the room I listened to the tapes leading up to the beach event in question and ate bits of my bento until the Tendos returned, then flicked the recorder on as they entered the Tendo grounds, curious to hear -and carefully peek- at how things had changed in the Tendo household.

As this was before the hidden cameras commercially available actually got any good I was using a reverse-periscope with my back to the window, in question. Simple, but effective, especially as it was painted exactly the same as the normally heavy dresser that blocked the window, and any glare that might be spotted was covered by the glass of the window itself.

Thanks to it I saw that Kasumi had a crown in her hair, which was interesting, and that Nabiki seemed almost... upset.

They were all talking in the good natured way that people do when they get home from a trip, well most of them were.

 

Ah, Ranma. Never one to miss a weak point, she was almost consoling Nabiki. 

Almost. 

Speaking to her in that irritating way that drove Akane nuts whenever he did it to her. 

Said youngest Tendo was enjoying the antics and wasn't intervening. 

Interesting indeed. 

 

To summarize my efforts of information collection, there had been a beauty queen pageant on the beach. In the end, Kasumi had won and had gotten the first place, Ranma had snagged second place and the cash prize, and Nabiki, whose suit was actually quite a pricey boutique one-piece to my eye, hadn't even made it to the landing. 

To be fair, she had been against the likes of Shampoo, the Kuonji girl, Kodachi, and others, but losing to Ranma, who wasn't even a girl, ground at her. 

 

With the dinner area being screened with mosquito cloth, I could tell by audio alone in a myriad of ways that the evening was a quiet verbal battle. 

At least by the Japanese standards it was a battle, I've seen American television like Geraldo, which is like the Mongol hordes across Asia.

And naturally, it didn't help that Ranma kept waving the prize money at her. Ten bills by ear and flick, first being counted then used to fan a breeze at the scowling girl.

 

The evening gradually died down with a minimum of violence, dinner was eaten, and bathing suits were washed, with Kasumi hanging them outside to dry. I think the daring two-piece had been hers, which must have been a sight to see on the beautiful girl.

 

Not sure if it would be enough for me to go dancing with a skeleton, but hey, you like what you like.

 

Ranma went to sleep early and the others did as well, lulled by the heat. It was tempting for me as well, but I stayed up, mostly to go over some tapes. Due diligence and all that. 

 

And that was when I heard the door to the outside yard open. 

 

Now who was up? This was a school night. I tipped the laptop screen down to kill the light and opened a gap in the heavy curtains. Glancing out at the darkness, I was unable to see much, my night vision was mostly gone thanks to the laptop's glow, and I had the window for the most part covered, purely as a protection, which limited my vision range. 

 

Now I could bring a tiny video camera, but that'd risk a reflection or a glint catching the eye of someone, best not to tempt fate unduly. The lairs of tigers and all those proverbs. So, once more with my trusty matte-black periscope.

 

The outline of the figure wasn't too big, so it wasn't any of the men, nor Ranma, as I could hear him snoring without any microphones. A girl, or possibly Happosai. But there was no cackling, no wheezes of a wizened old troll.

 

"Stupid Saotome." Ah, Nabiki. I'm glad I had the microphone pointed at the yard, she was grumbling quite quietly. "Take my money will you?"

 

There was silence for a moment broken only by snores from Ranma's window, and then I heard it.

The sounds of scissors on fabric. 

 

As I watched the suit being destroyed, listened to it rather, I was feeling truly ambivalent. Not indifferent, which most people used the word as, but in feeling both good and bad about it.

 

On the bad, I'd no longer be able to see Ranma in it. And after our time at the pool, the moments we had shared, that was indeed a powerful loss. In addition it was a Kumo special, and even at the house discount, it wasn't cheap. Probably cost more than everyone else's swimsuits combined. Even if Nabiki's was a custom.

 

On the good, it was only fabric, I could replace it. It helped that it was under Ranma's care when this happened, which meant I could probably push much further than I normally could. Otherwise it was just more debt, and Ranma wouldn't rest until it was gone.

 

As she finished with her vengeance and stalked back inside I stopped to ponder; Did she have a point?

 

Would the others have entered had Ranma not competed? 

Probably not, as being on the stage meant leaving the rival girls alone with Ranma. 

Only by Ranma being on the stage would the others follow.

 

Would Nabiki have stood a chance otherwise? Possibly. Without being there in person, I could not say for certain.

First, her swimsuit looked like something from this year's fashion, one no doubt that she had bought with the money she took from Ranma, and by extension, me. 

And second, she wasn't unattractive. None of the Tendo girls were what you could ever call plain, all of them were in fact quite beautiful. 

They just weren't in the extreme upper tiers is all. I was, after all, someone who'd seen thousands pass in front of my camera.

 

I waited until Nabiki was done and crept back into the house before I too left, though I'd be up a bit more at home as I got things ready.

 

This was an opportunity, or in Martial Arts terms, 'an opening'.

 

And you don't thrive in Nerima, martial artist or no, without being able to take advantage of an opening.

 

-=-=-=-

 

Ranma's face was both livid and ashamed when he stalked past me on the bench, me reading my newspaper and sipping on my tea. 

 

"Half hour?" He ground out, not looking at me. A small plastic bag was on his wrist, and we both knew what was in it.

 

"Sure." No doubt he was trying to calm down before he talked with me.

 

After he passed, I finished my tea and cookies, folded up my newspaper, and checked to see if Nabiki had sent anyone to follow Ranma. 

It had happened a couple times now, especially after Ranma had money to spend. Seeing no one, I went inside and made one more quick check on my changes to my bedroom. I'd been fussing with it for hours now.

 

Shortly after that Ranma entered my home, slightly damp, female and downtrodden. She really was feeling bad about this, and clearly wanted to allow herself to feel bad hence the changing. And maybe to squeeze some sympathy as well perhaps? 

 

I waited as she sat down across from me, calmly waiting for her to thoughts and words in order to begin. 

 

"...Sorry." She got out at last, not looking me in the eyes, and passed me the bag. "It's all my fault."

 

I fished the bathing suit out of the bag, flicked it once to lay it all out, draped it on the table and took a good look at what I'd only heard the night before.

 

"Interesting." My eyebrows had climbed up appreciatively. "You're going to have to explain this one."

 

Right over where each nipple would be was a large hole, snipped in a single cut with scissors. Another over the navel, where the white went to a point, and the last one, almost carefully, was cut out of the groin, taking care not to damage the seams.

 

Nabiki had definitely trying to send a message, and it was suitably subtle enough for Ranma; If you want to beat me with these, then go ahead and show them off to everyone. 

 

If Ranma wore it now, she'd certainly show me quite a bit.

 

"The suit was fine yesterday, I didn't even get into any fights in it." She hastened to explain. "It got washed and Kasumi hung it out to dry last night. And then..."

 

"Nabiki no doubt." I finished for her. "Once your guard was down and you were asleep." 

 

She nodded, shame writ across her face. "Yeah."

 

"And, since no one saw anything, you can't actually prove it was her."

 

She was truly looking beaten. Something that the male Ranma would never show on his face or in his words.

 

"No worries," I leaned over and clapped her on her shoulder, drawing a flinch from her. "Remember, I always prepare for the worst. I was prepared to cross it off the moment you even asked for it."

 

"Still, you paid for it." Her hand dove into her pocket, withdrawing her winnings. Ten thousand yen all told. "And I owe you. Here." She thrust the money at me.

 

"Um, I can take that, but..." How to broach how much it really was? Should I even bother?

 

"It's more huh." She didn't seem surprised. "A studio suit, special fabric. How much?"

 

"Really, don't worry about it." I tried to deter her. "Honestly, you don't want to know."

 

But she wasn't going to have it. "Tell me. You know you don't have to do that with me."

 

After a long stare at her, judging her resolve, I sighed and quoted half of what it really was.

 

Her jaw dropped. "Holy..." Her winnings weren't even half of it. "Don't worry," she said through gritted teeth. "Shit happens. I'll pay it all off."

 

I almost got a word out before she cut me off with a raised finger. "All of it." 

 

She looked at me squarely in the eye. "Heck, let's get started today." 

 

"Um, I didn't have anything planned," I replied a touch awkwardly, looking away as I lied. "Things are pretty clean, so I don't have much for you to do."

 

I watched her stew from the corner of my eye for a moment, letting the internal pressure build, before offering a way out. "Except..."

 

She pounced. "Yeah?"

 

"I mean, maybe we could try a photo set, we haven't taken any since that first day as Girl." I looked at her. "How about that?"

 

That had her freeze, terror writ on her face. Images of Nabiki with her smirk and the leering camera were no doubt flitting past her eyes. 

She looked away, eyes going to the floor. 

Then they swept over the ruined swimsuit, draped laid out on the table.

 

The debt came back, gnawing on her pride and soul. 

 

"Sure." She said quietly. "I don't mind."

 

-=-=-=-

 

I went up to my room and snagged the collar, giving my setup a final look over. I took almost five minutes, just lifting and placing down the lights, checking the drapes, then I went to my bed, a king-sized American one, not a Japanese futon, and pushed it to the corner with a rumble. 

 

Ranma was sure to hear it. She needed to hear it or I'd risk her thinking it was a setup, which it was. It had to feel like a hasty improv even though I had been prepping and agonizing over it since I'd gotten up this morning.

 

The bed I'd picked up for a song from Kimura, back when he had purchased the damn thing without checking the dimensions of the small studio he had rented for private entertainment. An excellent bed all told, six years in and still damn comfy. I've used it so much that I find that a regular futon bunches oddly around my stump, and now I tend to sleep poorly on the road because of it.

 

Damn good bed though. And heavy.

 

Finished, I tromped back downstairs ready to go. 

 

-=-=-=-

 

Once the collar was on her neck, I turned to her and nodded towards the bathroom. "Go ahead and grab something, say the black skirt and matching top. I'll wait."

 

She nodded and went off to change. I hadn't specified what underwear to wear, and I wasn't expecting to see any, but it'd be something to see on the tape afterwards.

 

Once dressed, she joined me at the table. 

 

"All right, we'll go through the whole process today, start to finish." My voice the slightly harsher voice I used with Girl, my 'Sir' voice. "First, we'll go over the prices..."

 

Naturally, she low-balled her own value since it wasn't physical labor, and it took a bit to coax her up to a reasonable price. Per accepted photo, five hundred yen. Other details I'd explain as they came up. I was pretty much going to treat this whole thing like she was an actual model, only she'd be her own manager.

 

And so we went upstairs to my bedroom. "Sorry about this, the living room has the space but not enough plug-ins for the lights, this is the only other big room unless I used extension cords and the bathroom." That would come later. A bathroom shoot would be take much coaxing.

 

I opened the door and flicked on the low lights.

 

Slowly, hesitantly, Ranma entered my bedroom for the first time. 

 

Even though she trusted me, old habits ran deep, as did old fears. 

Nabiki, the camera, the many photos of her in the hands of horny boys. 

What she knew they did with those photos.

 

Ranma didn't want to do this, anyone with working eyeballs could tell you that, but debt dragged her feet in.

 

She took in my bedroom having never been in it before, at the bed and dressers, pushed close together in one corner. At the large lights and the white draped cloths in the other. A lone red stool for sitting and posing on.

 

"Lesson One: the white backdrop." I said, gesturing for Ranma to step forward. I didn't give her time to think, to weigh her choices. 

She stepped forward slowly, I'm not sure if it helped her or not that I was pushing this step, but it brought her inside.

 

And so, I introduced Ranma to my camera.

 

Nothing obscene, her clothes stayed completely on, and the short sleeved black top and matching skirt stood out beautifully against the white backdrop, especially with that red hair and shiny brass chain belt. 

 

She'd had photos taken of her before, often to pay off what she owed to Nabiki, but since Nabiki was often the only victor when this happened,  Ranma had quickly learned to associate photos with her own failures, the camera an invasive exploitive presence. 

 

That had to change, and I had to bring that change.

 

With five minutes of talking and ten of actual photo taking, we were finished.

I took my time, letting Ranma choose the poses she wanted before telling her 'hold'. Any requests from me would have to come in the future.

 

Fifteen minutes and then we were done. 

 

She seemed nonplussed or at the least confused. Either at how quickly it went, I was a professional photographer after all, or at how not unpleasant it was. She clearly expected it to be worse. 

Nabiki likely enjoyed her shoots with Ranma, and probably drew it out or demanded some unpleasant poses. Reveling in the power she had over the martial artist. 

 

"That's it?" She still didn't believe it was over. 

 

I nodded. "Three sets of 12 shot rolls. That's considered an 'SSSO'; 'Small-shoot, single-outfit'." I tapped the side of the camera with the two finished rolls. "Now I show you how it all works."

 

I led Ranma into the next room she hadn't ever been in, my AV workroom, which was formerly the other bedroom.

 

"What's all this stuff for?" She reached out to prod one of my more costly rigs.

 

"Careful!" I cautioned her sternly, "It would take a lot of photo-shoots to pay for that one." 

In the centre of the room I swept my arms to encompass every piece of hardware I'd painstakingly acquired over the years, "These machines are how I pay for much of what I do." And it was technically true, since I had the originals, the uncensored originals, it was worth a fair bit of coin -or favors- for long orders by people who didn't want to see blurs, bars, or pixels.

Or have a paper trail on their private projects.

 

"We're headed deeper, into the next room."

 

We went into the small room beyond that, my darkroom. She watched as I meticulously developed each photo in front of her. 

In front of her I discarded the blurry, the inferior, the deliberately mis-shot. Three dozen became two, though half were bad on purpose. I didn't want a large batch right away.

 

"Now that the photographer has discarded what he will not purchase, the next step is letting the model," I waved to Ranma, "To decide which photos she is willing to be released."

 

Surprised, she watched as I stowed the negatives away and flicked the lights from the red to a regular bulb. Then I stepped back and gestured for her to proceed.

 

Ah, Nabiki never did this step. It's important for the business and the health of the model. They tended to burn out much faster if the photos were taken and they had no control afterwards. Naturally a good manager would push just hard enough, lest the model grow complacent and her career falter.

 

Ranma swept over them, studying the Girl in the photos. Of the shots, one was rather risqué, Ranma planting one foot on the stool, giving me a tiny glimpse of her underwear in that tight, short skirt.

 

In the end, two dozen became one, and that risqué shot did not make the cut.

Finished, she looked at me, almost expecting me to protest. 

Another test, naturally.

 

Instead I nodded approvingly. 

 

"Excellent. Not too many, nor too few. You are a natural."

 

She smiled awkwardly at the compliment but said nothing as I gathered the photos. A natural at this was not something she wanted nor appreciated, at least not now.

 

"Final check on these photos?"

 

She nodded. "Yes, those ones are fine."

 

"Then at the agreed upon price, twelve photos will go for six thousand yen." 

 

Six hours as a housekeeper, or three as Girl, all in fifteen minutes plus developing time. 

This wasn't lost on Ranma.

 

The rest of the photos I handed back to Ranma, the risqué one on top. "Toss them in there."

 

Ranma had never seen an electronic shredder before and she jumped slightly at the sound and fury of the machine. The photos shredded in seconds, and she grabbed a handful of thin strips from the hamper to examine.

 

"Those all get mixed up and tossed out on trash day."

 

She looked pleased, mostly at the destruction I think. The idea of photos being removed from the world held a vast appeal.

 

"Now, normally the rolls of film go to your Manager, which is also you currently." Two rolls of the three went into her hands. "The Manager is supposed to keep track of what was shot where and control the supply and demand."

 

She nodded, slightly overwhelmed at all the info she was learning. Then her eyes caught the last roll of film in my hands.

 

This roll had the up-skirt shot. I had kept it for a reason. A final lesson.

 

"Now this is important. These are the negatives and they have to be stored carefully away from regular light." I toggled the red light off and on for emphasis, before leaving the regular lights on. "And if you ever do something like this..."

 

I pulled the film out and ruined it in front of her eyes.

 

"You ruin the film forever. Do you understand?"

 

I didn't wink, nor put any special emphasis in my voice. I just stared at her, gaze stoic and serious.

 

It took her a second, before her eyes widened, then grew sly.

 

"Oh, I understand... Thank you for teaching me all this Sir."

That was the first time Ranma actually called me Sir and not my name while Girl. It was a habit I would keep enforcing.

 

Afterwards, watching the tape of the bathroom, it was like night and day. 

 

The Ranma that entered was terrified, her hands shook, and she wore the thickest underwire bra and panties she could find, no doubt expecting things to be peeled off in front of the hungry camera.

 

The Ranma that came back after the photo shoot was almost buzzing with excitement, tossing her clothes off with abandon. Spying her reflection from the corner of her eye, she turned and approached the mirror clad only in her bra and panties. 

 

She smiled, then the smile became a smirk as she scoffed at her earlier fears. Then she struck a pose, one of the many she had taken this night.

 

And then another, and another, until she went through her whole routine upstairs, purely by memory.

 

Satisfied, she stripped naked and got changed.