Nabiki examined her new horns, tracing each curved ridge with fascination. They suited her, she decided, giving her reflection an approving smirk. The oni traits had taken their time manifesting, and Akane had, annoyingly enough, been the first to discover her own powers — much to Nabiki’s irritation. Still, worth the wait, she thought, especially given her latest trick.
Nabiki let out a casual sigh, and a small plume of fire puffed from her mouth, dissipating before it reached the ceiling. It wasn’t much yet, but the novelty of it was exhilarating. Floating, too — though the first time it happened, she’d flailed for half a minute before regaining composure. Now, though, a few deep breaths and a bit of forced logic kept it under control. Nabiki liked that. Powers should have a touch of dignity.
“Bravo, bravo!” Ryoko clapped with exaggerated enthusiasm from her seat on the bed. She was sprawled luxuriously, her gaze sharp with approval and a trace of smugness, as if she’d been the one who conjured these new abilities. “Though I do have to inquire, Miss Tendo: Is the tiger-print bikini truly necessary?”
“It’s the traditional attire of my people, apparently,” Nabiki replied, striking a dramatic pose. “It’s practically mandatory! Part of the whole oni package.” She pivoted, giving her friend a saucy look over her shoulder. The outfit was pure spectacle — tiger stripes, gogo boots, the works. The boots had actually been surprisingly comfortable, though she was still weighing the idea of adding some spikes for extra flair.
Ryoko tilted her head thoughtfully. “Why, no, I wouldn’t dream of asking you to put more clothes on. Far be it from me to disrespect cultural heritage.” Her smile was wicked, a challenge in itself. “And instead of shooting lightning, you breathe fire? How delightfully inconvenient.”
“Eh,” Nabiki shrugged with an easy grin. “Would’ve been nice to get ice powers, though. Way more fitting for my ‘Ice Queen of Furinkan High’ reputation, don’t you think?”
“True,” Ryoko mused, letting her eyes flicker up and down her friend’s ensemble. “Then again, dressed like that, you’re far too hot to be the Ice Queen of anywhere.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Nabiki drawled, rolling her eyes, but she couldn’t resist a smirk. Ryoko was unusual among her acquaintances: sharp, insightful, and unburdened by what Nabiki had come to call the Dunce Variable. Most people just didn’t get her, and she liked it that way, but Ryoko was different. Equal, even.
“So,” Nabiki went on, folding her arms, “I take it we’re avoiding your brother for now? Probably for the best. I think he’s got another showcase in the works, and his nerves might finally snap if we disrupt it.” She tapped a horn in mock deliberation. “Wouldn’t want the poor dear to unravel over a bit of harmless fun.”
“Ah, poor Shutaro. He’s likely still recovering from last time,” Ryoko said, waving her hand dismissively. “Let’s give him some time to return to his inflated sense of dignity. And Ranma, well… he’s practically twitching whenever he senses us nearby. Poor boy doesn’t even know which end is up anymore.”
Nabiki’s laugh was warm but merciless. “Yeah, he deserves a little break, I suppose. Not much sport in it when he’s expecting us, anyway.”
Ryoko leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “So, that leaves… the Kuno siblings.”
The two of them exchanged a look that could only be described as the world’s most elegant smirk. If there were a grand prize for delusional nobility, Tatewaki and Kodachi Kuno would have been neck-and-neck in the running, and that was even without the “eccentricities” that seemed to run in their branch of the family tree. Both of them practically begged for a little intervention in their lives.
“Tatewaki,” Nabiki mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully, “doesn’t need much pushing to spin off the rails. It’s almost too easy, really. Just a suggestion here, a nudge there, and he’s ready to make a complete fool of himself. I mean, what would he even do if he discovered that I’m an oni princess from a foreign realm?”
“Recite poetry and pledge himself to your eternal service, I’d imagine,” Ryoko said dryly. “The poor fool’s immune to subtlety. But Kodachi… now she’s interesting.”
“Oh, Kodachi,” Nabiki sighed, practically savoring the name. “Always working on some absurd concoction to ‘claim’ Ranma, as if the poor boy were some kind of collectible item.”
“What say we… spice things up a bit?” Ryoko said, her smirk widening. “I hear she’s working on some love potion for her next attempt. Imagine if she drank her own potion and fell in love with the mirror. A Narcissus act. The poetry would be insufferable.”
“Or,” Nabiki countered, “we could swap her ingredients with something less romantic. A splash of hot pepper oil, a bit of glitter — no, poisonous glitter. That way, her next gymnastics match would be a dazzling disaster. If she’s going to poison the air, let’s at least make it spectacular.”
“An inspired choice,” Ryoko purred, her eyes alight with wicked delight. “And imagine, the next time her beloved Ranma strolls past, she’s too blinded by her own brilliance to notice him. The irony alone would be worth it.”
They both leaned back, pleased with their nefarious planning, lounging like queens surveying their realm of delightful chaos. This, Nabiki reflected, was why she found Ryoko such excellent company: she was a rare creature who could appreciate the fine art of pandemonium, and who saw the beauty in wielding oni powers with precision rather than brute force.
“So, we’re decided, then?” Ryoko asked, one eyebrow raised in conspiratorial glee. “The Kuno siblings it is.”
“Absolutely,” Nabiki confirmed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “After all, some people are born to chaos — and others just need a little help finding it.”
======
Tatewaki Kuno was, by his own account, an esteemed gentleman of fine bearing and noble heart. This was, he believed, indisputable. And yet, Fate — or perhaps some infernal gremlin in the cosmic machinery — seemed to take every possible opportunity to complicate the life of one Tatewaki Kuno.
On this particular afternoon, Kuno strolled through Furinkan High’s gardens with an air of tranquillity, his wooden bokken resting over one shoulder. His thoughts, drifting between sonnets and haikus dedicated to his beloved Akane and the enigmatic “Pigtailed Girl,” were interrupted by a prickling sensation — that subtle but unmistakable feeling that one is not as alone as one previously thought.
And then he heard it. Laughter. Not the sweet, lilting giggles of infatuated schoolgirls, but low, mischievous chuckles that slithered through the air like a serpent. He turned, his senses sharpening, only to find Nabiki Tendo and Ryoko Mendo standing before him, leaning against a tree as though they’d been waiting for him for hours.
It would have been nothing unusual… except for their attire.
Nabiki and Ryoko were both dressed in tiger-striped bikinis, complete with gogo boots, the patterns reminiscent of ancient oni legends. Nabiki’s recently-sprouted horns gleamed wickedly under the dappled sunlight, while Ryoko’s expression held an almost predatory curiosity. For a split second, Kuno blinked, convinced that he must be seeing things.
“Ah, Kuno-sempai,” Nabiki drawled, folding her arms and tapping her boot-clad foot impatiently. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
“Aghost would be more… subtle,” Ryoko added, her smile dangerous and sweet at once. She leaned closer to Nabiki, exchanging a conspiratorial glance. "So this is the boy you mentioned? He doesn't seem like such a pervert to me~"
Kuno straightened his shoulders, forcing his gaze to remain fixed upon the middle distance, even as his mind reeled. The tiger stripes, the horns… they had to be an illusion. Or perhaps some fever dream that had infiltrated his noble mind. Surely, surely the ever-dignified Nabiki Tendo wouldn’t dare to — but no, here she was, smiling with a distinctly devilish glint.
“Miss Tendo,” he began, his voice a shade tighter than usual, “I find your, er, choice of clothing… unusual.”
Nabiki arched an eyebrow, her expression one of pure, innocent surprise. “What do you mean, sempai?”
“Yes,” Ryoko chimed in, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kuno-senpai. Is there something wrong with your eyesight?”
Kuno’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, as he struggled to form a coherent response. His gaze drifted to the horns that curled from Nabiki’s forehead and the flashes of tiger print in his peripheral vision. Surely he couldn’t be imagining such audacity, such wild disregard for—
“No,” he said finally, regaining some measure of composure. “It is you who appear… uncharacteristically attired.” He cleared his throat, glancing away, hoping to reclaim some sense of balance. “I have no doubt that my honourable self is seeing clearly.”
“Are you sure?” Nabiki’s tone was mocking yet somehow lighthearted, with a touch of pity. “Because I can’t help but feel like you’re seeing something that isn’t there. I'm just wearing my normal attire, and so is Ryoko.”
"But you're clad in a mere bikini!" Kuno protested.
Ryoko put a delicate finger to her lips, suppressing a smirk. “I see what you mean. He’s such a pervert, isn’t he, Nabiki? Always imagining women in strange outfits.” She leaned in, her tone dripping with insincerity. “I mean, why would we ever dress up like that in public? It would be one thing at a beach or a swimming pool, but...”
“That’s right!” Nabiki clapped a hand to her forehead in mock revelation. “Kuno-sempai, I didn’t realise you were <i>this</i> depraved! And here I thought you were a man of honour. Tsk, tsk.”
“Ridiculous!” Kuno’s voice rose an octave in protest, his face reddening. “I am no such… I do not imagine…” He stumbled over his words, and then his gaze hardened, daring Nabiki to look away. “It is you who stand here before me dressed as creatures of myth and revelry!”
“Creatures of myth?” Nabiki echoed, feigning offence. She tilted her head, giving him a puzzled, pitying look. “Are you feeling alright, senpai? I didn’t know you were one to let your imagination run wild.”
Ryoko leaned in closer, her expression a carefully calculated mix of concern and amusement. “Perhaps you’ve been overworking yourself, Tatewaki? I mean, to see things like this… it’s a little worrying.”
Kuno’s hands clenched, his patience straining at the seams. “I know what I see!” he snapped. “Two… two devilish sirens clad in tiger pelts, flaunting horns, and taunting me with foul trickery!”
Ryoko couldn’t suppress a laugh at that. “Oh, dear. I think he’s actually convinced himself.”
“Such a shame,” Nabiki said, sighing theatrically. “And here I thought you were the sensible type, Kuno-senpai. But I guess all that noble blood has, well, gotten to your head.”
It was then, in a moment so uncharacteristic that it shocked both girls into silence, that Tatewaki Kuno let out a frustrated growl, sounding far more like Ranma than he would have liked to admit. “Curse you both!” he sputtered, his face a rather undignified shade of red. “You temptresses, you—” He broke off, seething with frustration, his composure finally cracking under their relentless mockery.
Unable to withstand another second of their grinning faces, Kuno turned on his heel, bokken gripped tightly in hand, and stormed off across the school grounds with as much dignity as he could muster under the circumstances.
Nabiki and Ryoko watched him go, both stifling giggles until he was a safe distance away.
“Oh, my,” Ryoko said, finally letting out a soft chuckle. “He’s far more fun to play with than I thought he’d be.”
Nabiki stretched luxuriously, a lazy smile playing across her lips. “Absolutely. And here I thought he was all bark and no bite. But it’s almost endearing, isn’t it? That noble ego of his barely holding together under pressure.”
Ryoko’s eyes sparkled as she imagined their next encounter. “Well, then… I suppose we’ll have to think of something even grander for next time. Perhaps we’ll escalate. Make sure he never forgets this day.”
Nabiki grinned, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Oh, he’s in for it, all right. That noble pride of his? Just makes him the perfect target.” She cast one last glance at Kuno’s retreating form. “After all, it’d be a shame not to make the most of our influence on Furinkan’s resident samurai.”
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