Story: Pride and Joy

 

Tatewaki Kuno, scion of the noble Kuno clan and self-proclaimed Blue Thunder of Furinkan High, sat cross-legged in his grandiose family room. Portraits of his ancestors, all staring sternly into eternity, lined the walls, and ancient suits of armor loomed in the corners like disgruntled ghosts. Kuno himself was clad in his usual kendo gi, a cup of tea cooling beside him as he leafed through a photo album dedicated entirely to Ranma Saotome—but only to her female form. He sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his chest.

On the floor beside him lay another album—Kodachi’s collection of photos dedicated to Ranma’s male form. Kuno had stumbled upon it earlier and had since been consumed by a moral quandary: Should he burn it as an affront to his sister’s insolence, or shred it to ensure its complete obliteration? Both options had their merits, and he had been paralyzed by the decision for hours.

"Ah, the trials of my heart!"

Before he could launch into a sonnet of lamentation, a loud knock rattled the front door. Kuno barely had time to glance up before the door creaked open, revealing Mousse, clad in his usual robes, glasses perched askew on his nose. He looked haggard, and his white robes were damp as though he’d fallen into a koi pond on his way over. Given his track record, that was entirely possible.

"You," Kuno declared, pointing a wooden practice sword at him. "Mousse of the Hidden Weapons, why do you sully my home with your presence? Have you not failed me once before?"

Mousse bristled, adjusting his glasses with an indignant sniff. "Failed you? That’s rich, coming from the man who couldn’t even remember our plan long enough to execute it! If anything, you failed me with your goldfish memory!"

Kuno gasped, offended. "I have no recollection of such forgetfulness!"

Mousse pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "That’s exactly what I mean!" He straightened and looked Kuno in the eye—or tried to, given his poor vision. "Listen, Kuno, I didn’t come here to argue about whose fault it was. I need your help."

Kuno raised an eyebrow and shifted into a thoughtful pose, his chin resting on his hand. "Ah, yes, the purple-haired Amazon. Quite the formidable maiden. Speak, then, though your words will likely be riddled with folly."

Mousse hesitated, then plunged ahead. "Shampoo… she’s been acting even stranger than usual lately. More distracted, more… I don’t know, evasive. I’m sure the old ghoul knows something, but she’s impossible to pin down. I need someone who can help me get to the bottom of this. And… gods help me, you’re the only one I can think of."

Kuno tilted his head, considering. "Your plight is pitiable indeed, though it hardly compares to my own quest to win the heart of Akane Tendo and the pigtailed girl. Still, I shall allow you to plead your case."

Before Mousse could retort, a sudden bam-bam-bam at the door startled them both. The knock was unnervingly insistent, echoing through the halls like a marching band out of step. Kuno rose with his usual theatrical flair and gestured for Mousse to stay back.

"Who dares disturb the house of Kuno with such brutish vigor?" he bellowed, opening the door with a flourish.

A salesman stood on the threshold, dressed in a shabby suit with a bright red tie that didn’t quite match his mustard-yellow shirt. His hair was slicked back with enough grease to shine in the dim light, and he carried a suspiciously large box labeled “Sakura Mochi Supplies” in garish pink lettering. His smile was so wide and toothy it practically split his face in two.

"Good evening, gentlemen! Are you tired of unrequited love? Does the object of your affection elude your grasp?" the salesman began, his voice oozing with sleazy enthusiasm. Without waiting for an answer, he hoisted the box onto a nearby table and flipped it open. Inside were neatly organized packets of ingredients, complete with instructions for crafting sakura mochi from scratch. "Behold! The answer to all your romantic woes!"

Kuno squinted at the box suspiciously. "Explain yourself, peddler of dubious confections."

The salesman clasped his hands together, as if praying to the gods of gullibility. "These aren’t just any sakura mochi! These are enchanted. If the one you’re destined to be with eats one, sakura petals will appear on their face! A sign from the heavens themselves!"

Kuno’s eyes widened, sparkling with the kind of naive belief only he could muster. "A divine tool to guide the heart? Truly, I have been chosen to wield such power!"

Mousse, despite himself, leaned closer, his brows furrowed. "Wait a minute. We have to make them ourselves?"

The salesman nodded vigorously, his greasy hair bobbing like a marionette’s. "Indeed! The process itself is imbued with mystical energy, ensuring the sakura mochi are perfectly attuned to the desires of your heart. It’s a simple recipe, even for beginners!"

Kuno scowled, crossing his arms. "Cooking is a task ill-suited for a warrior of my caliber."

Mousse smirked, already rummaging through the box with an almost childlike enthusiasm. "I don’t know, Kuno. This might be fun. Besides, if it means understanding what’s going on with Shampoo, I’ll try anything."

Kuno bristled, his pride pricked by Mousse’s apparent ease. "A samurai such as myself is not daunted by trivial tasks! Very well, I shall oversee this endeavor. But do not mistake my involvement for enthusiasm—it is merely a demonstration of my boundless versatility!"

The salesman clapped his hands. "Ah, an excellent decision, gentlemen! But remember, use the ingredients wisely. And definitely don’t… ah… consume too many at once."

Both young men ignored the ominous undertone in his voice, too swept up in their newfound plans. As they handed over their yen with eager fervor, the salesman’s grin twisted ever so slightly, a glint of something sharp in his eye. He tipped his hat as he left, muttering under his breath.

"Good luck, boys. You’ll need it."

As the door closed, Kuno picked up a bag of rice flour and turned it over disdainfully. "At last, destiny is within my grasp, though it comes in such mundane packaging."

Mousse adjusted his glasses again, studying the instructions intently. "This better work."

Unbeknownst to them, the ingredients began to shimmer faintly, an otherworldly glow pulsing from the box like a heartbeat. Whatever the salesman’s true intentions were, they were about to find out—the hard way.

======

Kodachi sat directly next to Ranma in the Tendo living room, her presence practically draped over him like a silk shawl. She leaned in close, her elbow brushing against his arm, and every so often she would pluck a morsel of food from a nearby plate and offer it to him with an unsettlingly affectionate smile.

Ranma recoiled slightly, narrowing his eyes. "What kind of pictures does your brother have, anyway?" he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.

Kodachi waved her hand dismissively, a sly smile on her lips. "Oh, shameless ones, I assure you. But enough about him—observe this gem from my own collection!" She produced a photograph showing Ranma in gym class, mid-leap during a high jump. His athletic frame was captured in perfect form, shorts and shirt clinging to him as he soared through the air. She held it up triumphantly. "Isn’t it magnificent?"

Ranma blinked, his face twisting in a mixture of horror and embarrassment. "Why the heck do you even have this stuff?! And why are you showing it to me?"

Kodachi giggled, an unhinged lilt in her tone. "Oh, Ranma-darling, you underestimate the art of preservation! One must immortalize such brilliance! Look here—this one was taken as you deflected a dozen simultaneous attacks. Such valor! Such strength! Such… appeal."

Ranma glanced at the photo more closely. His horrified expression deepened as a realization struck him like a bucket of cold water. "Wait a second… If these pictures got out… and people saw me like this…"

He froze, his mind racing. More admirers. More girls. More chaos. His harem, already a convoluted mess, would spiral completely out of control.

Kodachi tilted her head, her smirk widening. "Ah, you see it now, don’t you? The allure, the magnetism. Why, if these photos were to find their way into the public eye, I daresay the results would be most… explosive."

Ranma groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I don’t need this! I’ve already got enough trouble with the ones I’ve got!"

At that moment, Ukyo and Shampoo re-entered the room, their outfits catching Ranma’s attention immediately. Ukyo wore an oversized sunhat with fake flowers pinned haphazardly to the brim and a baggy trench coat that swayed awkwardly as she walked. Shampoo, meanwhile, had wrapped herself in a scarf that covered everything but her eyes and wore gloves that looked a size too big. From Ranma’s perspective, it looked like they had both walked straight out of a bad spy movie.

Ranma raised an eyebrow, his brain scrambling for an explanation. "What’s with the getups? Are you two trying to go undercover or something?" He squinted suspiciously. "Wait, don’t tell me—there’s some kind of secret cooking competition you’re entering, and you’re trying to psych out the other contestants?"

Ukyo stiffened, her ears twitching slightly under the sunhat. "What? Uh, yeah! That’s it! Secret competition. Totally!" Ukyo’s tail, hidden under the trench coat, flicked once, causing the fabric to shift oddly.

"Yes! Big secret!" Shampoo chimed in, her voice a touch too eager. "Very important contest!" She adjusted her scarf nervously, her gloves slipping slightly as her claws threatened to poke through.

Ranma frowned, crossing his arms. "Then why didn’t you tell me about it? And why’re you acting so jumpy?"

The two catgirls exchanged a nervous glance, tugging at their disguises. "Jumpy? Who, us? No way!" Ukyo said, laughing a little too loudly, her fingers absently kneading the fabric of her coat like a cat preparing to settle in.

Kodachi watched the scene unfold with a bemused expression, swirling her tea. "Oh, Ranma-darling, perhaps you should focus on dealing with your… photographic legacy."

Ranma groaned. "You’re not helping! Look, Ukyo, Shampoo, we’ve got a bigger problem! You need to help me get those albums back from the Kunos before they cause any more chaos!" He pointed dramatically at Kodachi, who merely smirked in return. "She’s been gloating all day about it!"

"Albums?" Kasumi’s gentle voice floated in from the hallway as she and Nabiki entered the room. Kasumi carried a tray of tea while Nabiki strode in with her usual air of amused detachment. Akane followed closely behind, her brow furrowed in mild concern.

"What’s this about photo albums, Ranma?" Nabiki asked, raising an eyebrow. "Did Kuno finally upgrade his shrine to you, or is this about something more… embarrassing?" Shampoo’s ears twitched under her scarf, and she resisted the urge to hiss at Nabiki.

Ranma groaned again, running a hand through his hair. "Nabiki, this is serious! If those pictures get out, I’ll have even more people chasing after me! I don’t want any more trouble!"

Akane crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. "Oh, come on, Ranma. It’s not like you’re new to this kind of thing. Can’t you just grab the albums back and be done with it?" Meanwhile, Ukyo stretched her arms out, her fingers curling instinctively like she was about to claw at something, before catching herself and quickly tucking her hands back into the oversized sleeves of her coat.

Nabiki smirked, settling onto the couch. "You know, Ranma, the way you complain, someone might think you don’t enjoy the attention."

"I don’t!" Ranma snapped, his face reddening. "Why does everyone keep thinking that?!"

Kasumi, ever the peacemaker, set the tea tray down and smiled serenely. "Perhaps we should all take a moment to calm down. Ranma, would you like some tea?" Shampoo, seemingly mesmerized by the steam from the tea, reached out toward the tray before snapping her hand back as though burned.

"Yeah, Ranma," Akane added, stepping further into the room and nudging him toward the couch. "Take a break before you start another disaster."

Ranma waved his hands frantically. "I don’t have time for tea, Kasumi! Akane! I’ve gotta figure out how to get those albums back!"

At that moment, a gust of wind blew through the room, catching the loose ends of Ukyo and Shampoo’s disguises. The sunhat tumbled off Ukyo’s head, revealing her perky cat ears, while the scarf unraveled from Shampoo, exposing her swishing tail and twitching ears.

Ranma froze, his jaw dropping. His face turned pale as his brain tried to reconcile what he was seeing. "Oh no," he said, his voice rising in panic. "Not this again! Cats! Why does it always have to be cats?!"

Before he could bolt, his legs buckled, and he collapsed onto the floor with a soft thud. Ukyo and Shampoo immediately pounced on him, their cat instincts overriding their common sense. Shampoo rubbed her cheek against his, her tail curling around his arm, while Ukyo nuzzled his neck, purring contentedly.

From the corner of the room, Nabiki leaned against the wall, arms crossed. She raised an eyebrow and smirked. "So, are you two gonna explain why you’re scent-marking Ranma, or should I start taking bets?"

Akane stepped forward, her hands on her hips as she scowled. "Seriously, what is wrong with you two? Ranma’s already got enough problems!"

Ukyo’s ears drooped slightly, and Shampoo blinked, looking at her hands as though realizing for the first time what she was doing. "Uh… Shampoo sorry?" she ventured hesitantly.

Kasumi knelt beside Ranma, checking his pulse with a serene smile. "Oh my, he’s fainted. I suppose we should let him rest for a moment."

======

The Tendo family’s garden was bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun, a serene scene marred only by the sound of heavy sighs and clinking tea cups. Genma Saotome and Soun Tendo sat on the engawa, sharing a pot of tea. The koi pond rippled gently as the fish lazily swam in circles, but the tranquil setting did little to calm the storm brewing in Genma’s mind.

“Ah, Genma, my dear friend,” Soun began, his tone one of exaggerated cheerfulness, “I can’t tell you how pleased I am with the way things are progressing between Ranma and Akane. It’s clear they’re growing closer every day!”

"Ucchan, get that hot butt of yours back here, right now!" Akane yelled. "Shampoo! Stop trying to make out with Nabiki for two seconds, would you?! Are you trying to make Ranma panic here?"

"Nya! But that hat hurts my ears!" Ukyo yelped.

"It sure is good that my daughter, and only my youngest daughter, is developing a healthy interest in your son!" Soun laughed, a hollow and terrible laugh. "Closer! Every! Day!"

Genma paused mid-sip, his eyebrows twitching. “Uh, yes, Soun, of course. Closer every day.” He knew better than to correct Soun’s delusion—it was like trying to stop a waterfall with a teacup. Instead, he focused on his tea, hoping the subject would shift.

Soun’s smile widened, his mustache bristling with satisfaction. “It’s only a matter of time before they’re officially engaged! Why, just the other day, I caught them having a private conversation in the dojo. It’s obvious they’re planning their future together.”

Genma grunted noncommittally. He had a strong suspicion that the “private conversation” was probably another of Akane’s infamous shouting matches with Ranma. But if Soun wanted to interpret that as progress, who was Genma to burst his bubble?

“And,” Soun continued, pouring more tea with a flourish, “Ranma has been showing such remarkable improvement in his martial arts. Truly, his dedication knows no bounds! It’s as if he’s been driven by some newfound purpose. A remarkable leap forward, wouldn’t you agree?”

Genma straightened slightly, puffing out his chest. “Well, of course! Ranma is my son, after all. Naturally, he’s becoming a master under my guidance. I’ve trained him well. Every bit of progress he makes is a testament to my skill as a teacher!”

Soun nodded enthusiastically. “Indeed, indeed! Why, the way he’s been defeating challengers left and right… It’s almost as if he’s already surpassed his peers.”

Genma smirked, stroking his chin. “Of course, it’s only natural. The boy’s a Saotome, after all. Our family’s legacy of martial arts brilliance is unparalleled.”

“Unparalleled indeed,” Soun agreed, though his tone shifted slightly, becoming almost wistful. “Yes, Ranma’s potential is limitless. I dare say it won’t be long before he surpasses even you, Genma.”

The tea cup in Genma’s hand froze midway to his lips. “…What?”

“Oh, come now, Genma,” Soun said, chuckling as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “The boy’s growth has been astonishing. Surely you’ve noticed! It’s only a matter of time before he exceeds even your level of skill. Perhaps he already has?”

Genma’s eye twitched, and his smirk faltered. “Already has? Nonsense! I’m still in my prime, Soun. The boy’s talented, yes, but he’s got a long way to go before he reaches my level!”

Soun tilted his head thoughtfully, a hand stroking his own chin. “Hmm. I don’t know, Genma. The way he’s been handling himself lately… Why, he’s even mastered techniques that would take most martial artists years to perfect. It’s truly extraordinary.”

Genma set his tea cup down with a loud clink, his mind racing. Had Ranma really advanced that much? Sure, he was proud of his son, but the idea of being surpassed—no, eclipsed—by the boy stirred something deep within him. A mix of pride and paranoia began to bubble to the surface.

“Well,” Genma said, his tone shifting to one of forced nonchalance, “it’s good that Ranma’s improving. A father’s goal is to see his son thrive, after all.”

“Of course, of course,” Soun agreed, nodding sagely. “But isn’t it also the duty of a father to ensure he doesn’t fall too far behind?”

Genma’s eye twitched again. Soun’s words struck a nerve, and the older Saotome couldn’t help but imagine Ranma surpassing him, leaving him in the dust as a relic of the past. No, that couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t let it happen.

“Well, Soun,” Genma said, standing abruptly and adjusting his glasses, “perhaps it’s time for me to remind the boy exactly who his master is. A little refresher training session might do us both some good.”

Soun beamed, completely oblivious to the growing storm of competitiveness brewing in his old friend’s heart. “That’s the spirit, Genma! A father’s duty is never done!”

As the koi pond continued its gentle ripples, Genma’s thoughts churned with a new resolve. He’d show Ranma who the true master was—not out of malice, of course, but to maintain the balance of respect and authority. At least, that’s what he told himself as he plotted his next move.