Story: Pride and Joy

 

Akane Tendo doesn't normally engage in roof hopping, for multiple reasons. The first is that it's pretty rude. Jumping on someone's roof like that! It always annoyed her when Ranma did it. Secondly, she believed herself lacking the martial skill to do so. Which makes sense when you think about the fact that she cannot jump high enough to get up there in the first place and needs a ladder. She can land from that sort of height better than most, but might well break an ankle in the process.

However, neither of those reasons apply to her if she was, for example, under a spell which made her want to find her destined partner and paint cherry blossoms on his face, while also painting a great big X over the faces of anyone she met that was not, in fact, her destined partner.

It was a fortune thing, indeed, that this spell also came with a sort of homing sense. An awareness of where said partner was at this very moment. Ranma Saotome, currently at the Kuno home undergoing his own misadventure. Alongside certain others. Akane's sisters, as well as Ukyo, Shampoo and Kodachi. Whose mere presence alone was amplifying the homing effect considerably.

As such, her limiters were off. Her acceptance of social properness? Defenestrated. Her lack of self confidence inhibiting her from doing something dangerous? Absconded with. Only the need remained. The need to be with her partner. The need to be with Ranma.

"I think she went this way!" Mousse called out from the next roof over, pointing in completely the wrong direction.

"You dolt!" Tatewaki Kuno bashed him on the head. "She is plainly over there! Do you wear your glasses for merely ornamentation?!"

Oof, you know it's bad when Kuno gets a good roast on you. Anyway. Akane had already marked them. Neither of them were her destined one. So she'd marked them. Big black X across both their faces. She could ignore them. She could safely, totally ignore them. Ignore them find Ranma ignore them find Ranma...

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They call him the Blue Thunder of -  Wait. We're shifting to Tatewaki Kuno's point of view? Really? Fine, if we must. But don't say I didn't warn you.

Tatewaki Kuno, rising star of Furinkan High's kendo team, undisputed Blue Thunder of Nerima, and self-proclaimed guardian of feminine virtue, pursued Akane Tendo with all the speed and grace of a man absolutely certain of his righteousness. Which is to say, with dramatic flourishes, excessive shouting, and very little actual success.

He was accustomed to chasing after beautiful maidens—albeit usually to profess his love rather than to physically restrain them. This particular situation was… unconventional. Not that he, Tatewaki Kuno, would be daunted by mere details.

"Akane Tendo! You must cease this reckless charge! The heavens themselves weep at the sight of such unladylike abandon!" he called, bounding across a particularly narrow rooftop ledge.

Akane, for her part, did not so much as glance at him. Her brush had already deemed him unworthy, and his X-marked face ensured that he was now beneath her notice. This, naturally, only served to incense him further.

"Curse this foul sorcery! To be dismissed in such a manner—it is an affront to my honor!" Kuno raged, flipping midair and landing with what he believed was impeccable form. "Mousse! We must act with haste!"

Mousse, who had just tripped over a laundry pole and barely avoided a nosedive into someone's backyard, grumbled. "You first. I’ll catch up."

Kuno, undeterred, brandished his bokken with a flourish. "Then I shall engage! Fear not, Akane Tendo! I shall free you from this dire enchantment!"

Akane, in response, vaulted over an alleyway, landing flawlessly on the next roof. Kuno, determined not to be outdone, attempted the same—and promptly crashed through a poorly maintained awning, landing in a heap of laundry.

Mousse sighed, adjusting his glasses. "You really should watch where you’re going."

From beneath a tangled mess of bedsheets, Kuno's voice emerged, undeterred. "This setback is but temporary! The pursuit continues!"

Of all the vantage points in all of Nerima, why, pray tell, have we found ourselves lingering in the perspective of Tatewaki Kuno? Surely, the universe has conspired against good taste.

Nevertheless, here we are—watching as the self-proclaimed Blue Thunder of Furinkan barrels across the rooftops, bokken in hand, after the spell-driven storm that was Akane Tendo. The noble pursuit of chivalry, the protection of a fair maiden from her own reckless abandon! Yes, Tatewaki Kuno was the only man for such a task.

Akane, of course, did not acknowledge his existence in the slightest. Ignoring him to a degree she would have normally found envious.

“Akane Tendo, desist!” Kuno bellowed, leaping between rooftops with what he imagined was grace and precision, but was in fact desperate scrambling. “You are ensorcelled, bewitched! No doubt by the foul Saotome! Fear not, for I shall liberate you from this cruel fate!”

He was met with no response. Not even a glance. Instead, Akane adjusted her trajectory mid-leap, twisting fluidly in the air so that, upon landing, her foot extended back in an absentminded but perfectly executed back kick.

Kuno barely had time to process the strike before it connected squarely with his face. X marks the spot, huh? The world spun. His limbs flailed. The mighty swordsman tumbled backward, his elegant rooftop pursuit reduced to an ungainly sprawl through the air.

He hit the tiles. He bounced. And as he finally skidded to a halt, face-up and utterly insensate, the photobook he had so righteously pilfered from his sister slipped from his slackened grip and fluttered to the ground below. Pages wide open.

Akane landed beside it lightly, her enchanted focus locked onto the pages now splayed open before her. Pictures of Ranma. Ranma training. Ranma mid-leap. Ranma, somehow, looking cool while doing the dumbest things imaginable. Ranma with a rather big hard cock. Ranma with an enormous lump in his trousers. Ranma, Ranma, Ranma!

She crouched, plucked a marker from her pocket (where had that even come from?), and with methodical precision, began drawing cherry blossoms over each and every image of Ranma’s face. Her destined one. Must draw petals. Must draw cherry blossoms! Nothing else mattered, nothing at all!

“What are you doing?”

Akane barely registered the voice, her hand moving with an artist’s determination. The question had come from Yuka, who was now standing beside her with Sayuri peering curiously over her shoulder. The two of them had encountered Akane out in the street, squat down with a marker and book, doodling in it like a girl possessed.

Yuka squinted down at the book, then up at Akane, then back at the book.

“Oh my god,” Sayuri breathed. “Is that Ranma?”

Both girls leaned in closer, eyes widening as they took in the sheer breadth of Kodachi’s collection. Their expressions shifted from curiosity to something far more dangerous. "Woah..." Yuka whispered as lust settled over her face.

Akane, lost in her magical compulsion, continued drawing, blissfully unaware of the chaos she had just set in motion.