Astrild’s Restaurant Part 2 Coming... Home??? or The Sapphire Bet, Chapter Two Formerly: A Bet Too Much, Blue Side Jared Ornstead ===== If I ever get to continuing the Bet Too Much, Green Side, I’ll call it the Emerald Bet. In part to clear up the confusion of what was an awkward title anyway, mostly to keep it matching. Celeste has a takeoff of A Bet Too Much she’s calling Purple Side, or Amethyst for short. Should this be Sapphire and Green Side be Emerald then they all stay linked, both to their past names and to each other. ===== Half an hour later, in Akane's room (once they’d gotten Kasumi past the mounds of cup ramen containers and instant food packages piled with all the other garbage in the corners), the very uncomfortable group was going over something that alternately shocked, horrified, and amused them. A photo album they’d found featuring pictures of themselves, pictures they certainly didn't remember being taken. "Is that Hawaii?" Ukyo squinted at the picture as if that could really make the background details clearer. "Could be Okinawa, I s'pose." Ranma was still a little dazed from both the news, and from the way Kasumi was now sitting across his lap. She acted as if she was taking refuge there against the house they were in. She felt, rather... um... nice?.. there? It was hard for him not to react. "You won't even go with me to the mall, but you'd take her to Okinawa? Hmph!" "Akane! I don't remember any of this." Ranma sighed. Absently, he summoned a glass of chilled juice out of thin air and took a sip. A brief pulse of green sparkles the only sign that he’d just created the tall glass of amber fluid. "None of us do." A now stable Kasumi stared at one picture of herself laughing and pointing at where Nabiki's grass skirt had started coming apart. "It _is_ Hawaii, I think." She couldn't ever remember laughing like that... "Why?" "This is a picture taken at a luau." Kasumi handed the picture to Nabiki, who quite promptly hid it. Ukyo had trouble believing this dream had not ended already. She really might have gotten Ranchan? Something inside her wanted to do cartwheels. "So... we are all ma... married? Every one of us except Akane." “She didn’t go on the honeymoon. She’s not in any of the photos.” Nabiki added. "I got it! Enough already!" That would change soon, Akane vowed. Soon *she’d* be the one with Ranma, just like it was supposed to be. "Is restaurant at address Great Grandmother give us." Shampoo passed a photo to Ranma. Ukyo sniffed at the exotic fruity smell and gave Ranma's drink an imploring look. She met his eyes briefly, smacking dry lips. With a wink he called forth a tray of them and a frosted, dewing pitcher of the liquid, floating unsupported over the bed. Then he took the picture. "How do you do that?" Akane looked at the glass Kasumi handed her as if afraid it was going to suddenly turn into something nasty. She moved to the edge of her bed, flipping through her diary while her sisters hogged the photo album. "Magic." Ranma shrugged. "Fruit punch is of the element Water, and the curse gives me a natural affinity. That spell has some elaborate setup, for one thing I don’t think I could find a chip of unicorn horn again, but once the foundation spell has been weaved you can invoke the effect with a trivial effort. Unlike, say, a fireball, where you have none of the startup costs, only you are paying a substantial price in energy each time you throw one.” Vast incomprehension. He chuckled. “Don’t worry. It gets to be second nature after awhile." Ranma studied the photo briefly, then handed it to Nabiki. "I think Shampoo has found something." "So _that_ is where we live?" Nabiki accepted the photo and swiftly reappraised Ranma as the group crowded in around her to look at it. A huge restaurant was visible, with what looked like living quarters up above. It was in a new business district they’d all come close to before returning for Ranma’s book. It was built at the foot of a hill on which stood one of those old temples that had somehow avoided being razed for its land value. In front of the restaurant was Ranma and the various brides. Akane and Kuno were together, as were Kodachi and Mousse. Ranma's mother and father were both standing well apart. There was no sign of Soun Tendo, and there were a lot of people nobody recognized. Shampoo identified four women in the background as amazons. But there was also a hefty contingent of muscular blond guys and more than a few top heavy gaijin women. “Take a look at the hammer that guy is carrying.” Ukyo pointed out a redhaired weightlifter wreathed in muscles. "AAAAAH!" Akane startled the group with a scream as she found something she didn’t like in her diary. The look she gave the group was a mix of betrayal, horror, and nausea. "I'm engaged to... KUNO!?!" “Bummer.” Nabiki quipped. “Aw, shucks.” Ukyo said with a complete lack of sincerity. “Shampoo always hate it when stupid, obsessive boy get girl.” “Maybe we could look at this instead as the virtuous hero reunited with his lost love after vanquishing the evil sorcerer?” Nabiki joked. The girls enjoyed a good laugh. "Well," Ranma said, straightening up and holding Kasumi so she didn’t fall. "I guess the next thing to do is find our way to this restaurant. This is about all we'll learn from Akane's photo album." "Any other clues in that diary, Akane?" Ukyo turned to the girl, who was still so much in shock over the cumulative events of the past hour that she hadn’t protested their laughter at her expense. She didn't get an answer, Akane being lost in some private horror, her eyes fixed on something that only she could see. "Akane?" Nabiki waved a hand in front of her younger sister’s face. "Doomed." Akane whispered the word. It was all Ranma’s fault. He’d made the wish. He COULD have wished to be happily married to *her*, but nooo... Of course, that wish might’ve lobotomized him so he’d be happy with his toenails being yanked out in slow motion, but still... Ukyo leaned over her shoulder and took a moment to read the diary still in Akane's hands. "How about that? Looks like Mr. Tendo went a little nuts when Akane didn’t manage to marry Ranma with the rest of us. Says here he ran around stirring up old engagements and making a few new ones. All because Ranma said he didn’t want the dojo.” “He didn’t *want* the dojo?” Kasumi and Nabiki stressed, both disbelieving. Ukyo shrugged. She could remember Ranma telling her about turning down Kodachi when she offered to buy him one. Anything Goes wasn’t dependent on dojos. “Airen no want dojo because restaurant so much much better. Shampoo see, is very pretty place.” Ukyo’s lips quirked into a smile at the rest of them. “Yeah, only it seems Ranma not wanting it drove Mr. Tendo over the edge. Looks like before he managed to calm down, Akane was bound by her personal and family honor into engagements with almost a dozen people. There’s a list here of names, plus a few that were crossed out.” Ukyo’s smile crinkled as she bent over to read. “Kuno’s the first name listed. There’s also Mousse, Ryoga, Mikado and a *bunch* of other guys. I’d say Mr. Tendo went a little over the edge." "That... BAKA... is _so_ doomed." Akane's voice was a little stronger this time. "I think maybe," Nabiki appraised nervously, "that we want to be gone when Akane hits critical here. This has all the signs of a massive blowup." "Really, REALLY, doomed." "I think you're right, Nabiki." Ranma dismissed the glasses of juice back into little energy sparkles and stepping toward the door. "Let's go home." Ukyo glanced at Ranma as they proceeded down the stairs. "You have some idea what we’re going to find when we get there, Ranchan?" "Yeah," said Ranma. "Hmmm. Looks like Mr. Tendo shares some traits with my pop after all, I’d thought only he could be dumb enough to do the multiple engagement thing. Who'd have thought? Though if Mikado is engaged, I wonder what happened to his skating partner?" “Who Mikado?” Shampoo brightly asked, assuming a perky stance that spoke of imminent glomping the moment they were clear of the Tendo Disaster Area. “He’s a skater Ranma once beat to save Akane’s pet pig. Why do you bring him up, Ranma darling?” Nabiki fought with an urge to gaze upon him sweetly. She lost. He found himself thawing and grinning slightly in return, beginning to build a trust for this new Nabiki. He pointed to a picture hung in the stairwell. They all looked. It was of Akane, surrounded by like eleven guys. They included practically everyone they knew who had fighting experience: Kuno, Ryoga, Mousse, Mikado and a few others. In the picture Akane was obviously uncomfortable, and many of the guys didn’t appear any happier. Ranma pointed out a brown-haired girl in an absolutely gorgeous (if overly cute) wedding dress, pointing a finger at the group and laughing. “She is Azusa Shiratori, Mikado’s skating partner. And, despite her appearance, a fairly formidable fighter. Not that I couldn’t beat her, of course.” “Of course.” Three females agreed with wry grins. "Oh... My..." Kasumi had thought to stop in on her kitchen for one or two things. She exited with her hands empty and her face slightly appalled as she rejoined the group. She’d gone past shock and numb and now had a faint tinge of horror. Ranma grabbed his bag and staff, waving with the latter he said merely “guide us swiftly home” and a glowing needle of light appeared in the air, which they followed out of the Tendo house. "RANMA!" Akane's voice from upstairs was showing signs that she was coming out of the shock, but it was too late. They were already gone. Akane heard the group leave and turned back to her diary with a vengeance. Where had things started to go wrong? How could she put it back together? Engaged to Kuno? Kuno! This was beyond intolerable. Ranma was a jerk, and a pervert, but at least he... but she... if only... KUNO?!? Retrieving and flipping to the front of the diary, she began looking for something to indicate where the past had been altered. She found it and frowned. It had only been a few months ago... After a brief and not terribly exciting trip, Ranma spent a moment examining the building. “You girls go on inside. If we’re going to be staying here then there are some things I really ought to do.” The girls filed in with many sidelong glances at Ranma, whose attention was already diverted, first rummaging around in his bag and then pacing to get several angles of the hill. From his vantage point he could see one of Kasumi’s dresses out hanging on a washline strung from the side of the temple up on top. Noting that, he spent a moment examining the hill itself. While quite large by Japan’s standards of undeveloped land, it didn’t seem very massive to him. The temple at its peak was a little beaten up and the grounds looked mostly uncared for. But, important for his purposes, there was a little, short retaining wall, around knee height, surrounding the base of the hill itself, with ceremonial gates set in it and trails cut by trespassers cutting across bushes or the like. But the hill itself was obviously one piece of land, and Kasumi’s dress, fluttering from the temple atop it, led him to suspect that it belonged to them. Coming to this conclusion, Ranma took from his belt a knife. This knife, while he looked at it, became a full-on laborer’s trenching shovel, the handle springing out to an appropriate length and the blade widening and curving. With that, he turned a stroke’s worth of dirt to mark the spot, and returned the instantly restored knife to his belt where it promptly disappeared again. Then the mage squatted down and opened the top of his handy travel bag. “Shovel, Trowel, Chisel, Gloves, build the wall that Ranma loves.” As he named each item, a corresponding, and to all appearances, self aware, little tool hopped out of the bag and stood in a review line for him. Upon receiving their command, the little tools immediately began to float off to their work. The shovel, merely a spade really, went to the spot that Ranma had indicated and began to dig up the short, crumbling retaining wall and into the earth beneath. In a few, short strokes it had dug a trench clear down to the bedrock, heaping the earth to the side as it continued on to lengthen an open pit trench that was at least twenty feet deep. The trowel, looking more like a kid’s toy than a full-on mason’s tool, cleared itself a flat area and, to all appearances, began making mud pies. Only, with swift, sure strokes it formed the mud, lifting and shaping it into blocks that suddenly hardened into brownish rock, the color of the mud that had formed them. As Ranma wandered by wielding his staff, supervising, he made the comment. “I prefer white, really.” Hearing this, the little tool dissolved the blocks it had been forming and patted the dirt for a bit. When it began to work again, the mud it formed into solid blocks was a soft and pearly white, almost luminescent. The chisel, a sharpened peg of iron with not much to recommend it, received the rough blocks the trowel formed and blazed at them like a cartoon woodpecker, in seconds transforming each into finished building stones of perfect craftsmanship. The gloves, an older pair without elegance, began lifting the multi-ton stones as the chisel finished with them, moving them over and lowering them into the pit. Ranma stopped it as it carried over the very first block. “No, allow me. The cornerstone should really be laid by the builder. Symbolism, you understand.” Waving his staff so the stone became light enough it almost floated, the archmage moved the block over the pit, lifted it and hopped down in, then carefully placed the block where it should go. As he gazed on in satisfaction, the work gloves flew in with stone after stone, placing more than one a second. Hopping back out of the work pit, Ranma reviewed his laboring tools and began to smile and nod in satisfaction. The tools were getting into their groove and increasing their pace to where they blurred. There was quite a rush of air as a wall seemingly built itself up from the bedrock to about twelve feet above ground level, then spread like wildfire in a line around the base of the hill. Since their restaurant was the only structure on the hill other than their temple, and since it stood at the base while the temple perched above, Ranma gave the order for the wall to be linked to both sides of the restaurant, making it their gatehouse in a way. Walking, he reviewed the construction going on. The wall was going in exactly as he liked it, with a base about twelve feet wide at the bedrock and only a few feet at the top, giving it a pyramid effect that would go mostly unseen when the pit was filled in, yet would provide bracing and support against the worst attacks, from either inside or outside of the walls. He would have liked to add, instead of the decorative crenelations being put in atop the wall now, actual, functional battlements and an extra two dozen feet in height. But he realized that he had a siege mentality and a warrior’s viewpoint. The possibility of him having need to man this wall to fight against sorcerous invasion here was small, and there were limits on how highly you could politely fortify a home in a land ruled by someone else. With that in mind, the tools left a few, wide, open gates, hung with wrought iron grills that could be easily closed or opened as he liked. It was a great deal less secure than he would have preferred, but it did add the effect of making the area inside seem welcoming and friendly, instead of threatening or foreboding. On that thought, he directed his tools to add a second wall a comfortable bit inside the first. That would make this the lower terrace, and one that he could open to the public on occasion, perhaps on holy days, while leaving him generous privacy on the upper. There could be much fewer gates to the upper terrace, with greater security and protection, without seeming at all unfriendly. It was very important not to seem unfriendly when you were an archmage moving into someone else’s territory. Governments could get very twitchy about it, as could rival mages. Checking to make sure the drainage was properly taken care of by the tools, he went about plotting out where he would put the garden paths and where best he could locate each of his trees. After wandering in the front door (Ukyo discovered that she’d been carrying the key - apparently not all the girls had one yet), the four young ladies stood for a while taking in the entranceway. “Not bad. Whoever built this has taste, I’ll say that.” Ukyo appraised the large entrance hall they were all standing in. Shampoo grinned and went to kick a wall. The building made a loud thoom, but no break appeared. She grinned maniacally. “Is good, amazon construction! Airen know to build safe place for wives to sleep in. Village fights not bring roof down on head. Is wise husband!” Kasumi, whose hands had been clutched to her breasts in quasi-fright for some while now, stirred herself and lowered them. Crossing over to a nearby counter for the checking of reservations, she wiped her finger across it. Immaculately clean. Some of her color restored to her, Kasumi looked about herself. Testing another surface, some could see her resolve harden. It might not have been the home she was born in, but it was clean. No ramen cups to be found anywhere. She could live here. As for Nabiki, she could only stare. While the others busied themselves with their gawking at trivialities, Nabiki had crossed over to a wall behind the waiter’s kiosk to run her fingers over the inset relief she found there. The carved mural was a good eight feet by eight and didn’t even rise halfway to the ceiling. The size was important. What it depicted was trivial, the intricacy of the work did increase the value, however. All those were side issues to what this was *made* of. Gold. They’d used GOLD to place a decoration in their entrance way? What if someone stole it? Nabiki began to think of a better place for it. Her room sounded nice. One wall just made up of this fantastic golden mural. Yes, that would be perfect. It would be, err, safe there. Yeah, that was it. She’d just be saving them the price of putting an armed guard over this mural 24 hours a day. It was a cost decision. Ukyo removed her hands from her hips and stopped looking around. Locking the door behind her, she began to usher everyone further inside. “C’mon you guys, I wanna find out where we sleep. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m anxious to change out of my fighting togs.” Suddenly, Ukyo stopped in her tracks, her eyes flying wide and filling up with starlight. “Oh! You know in a place this size Ranchan might have even put in a *big* bathtub! Oh, no more cramping up eating my knees in the Ucchan!” She began to run deeper into the restaurant. “Ranma-honey, I *love* you!!” Satisfied with the final, basic construction, having placed the capstone himself and put his marvelous tools away, Ranma selected the outer wall that ran around the base of the hill as his first defense. He walked up to it and pressed two of his fingers to the pearly stone. “Runeweaver.” He whispered, and with a green and gold flare at his fingertips, several lines sprang forth and began to etch themselves into the surface of the wall. They raced out with great speed, cutting what looked to be an elaborate, decorative pattern into the part of the wall just below the eaves. In seconds the entire compound, from wall to restaurant, was ringed by this pattern. Ranma removed his fingertips, grinning softly to himself. “Well, that certainly saves in basic carving time. I’m glad I invented that spell.” A woman who had witnessed this all happen shook her head and walked off, trying to convince herself that she hadn’t seen what she thought she’d seen. Ranma was oblivious, by now pulling several small bags of crystals out of his bag and going to work. In a very short while, every thirty feet, high up along the wall, there was an inlaid mosaic, about the size of a man’s palm, made up of a variety of semiprecious stones arranged to be colorful and pretty. They *also* served as local energy points for the warding circle he’d placed, using the engravings along the eaves as his base. The semiprecious mosaics added strength to the enchantment and also served as a kind of damage control. An attacking power could destroy a portion of the warding circle and only gain access through only a single, thirty-foot section instead of bringing down the entire protective ring. It complicated invasion and made repair of the defense easier. The precious mosaics were also under permanent anti-theft enchantments, as Ranma wasn’t nearly as much a fool as he had once been. Gripping his staff in both hands, he held it high and gathered energy in a blazing white ball at the crystal in its tip. Lightning bolts of white energy crackled all about him as he gathered power for his spell, then he laid the tip of his staff gently against the nearest edge of the wall. “Siegestone.” The energy drained away like a switch being flipped, but there was no apparent effect. Ranma smiled anyway, and rapped the wall with his knuckles, then stood back, obviously satisfied. Spreading both hands wide, and perching his staff between them, balanced in the gaps before his thumbs, fingers splayed, he intoned. “Castle Protect.” There was a visual effect like a million stars all contracting and settling into the wall, before an appearance of normalicy was restored. Once again gripping his staff, Ranma twirled it about once and whispered. “Perfect.” With a solid first line of defense laid against evil or supernatural assault, and nothing about to damage his wall soon, Ranma shouldered his bag and went inside the restaurant, thinking that he’d lay the rest of his defensive enchantments later, after he’d had a break to restore his energies. Across the street, businesses began to open their curtains and wonder what all that electrical disturbance had been about. What greeted their eyes was a new wall that had sprung up on the temple’s side of the street. Many of them wandered out to wonder at it. “You remember this being here?” A shaken head. “Wasn’t here this morning.” A customer with a cup of caffeine still in one hand shook his head in refusal. “This morning? It wasn’t here *five minutes* ago!” A baker, spoon still in hand, paused and looked around himself. “Well, this is Nerima. Still, I’m more used to buildings *not* being there when you’ve turned your back on them for a minute.” A chorus of solemn nods. “Is the bathhouse still standing?” They all checked. It was on their side of the street. “Looks like it.” “I think I’m gunna have me a bath.” “Sure? Looks like a pretty wall. Might not be here when you get back.” “I’m sure. Wouldn’t want to miss my opportunity. Things’ll get jammed and its my only opportunity before the lunch rush.” Many groans. A reminder that the quiet emptiness now enjoyed was only a prelude to the mobs of their busier hours. The restaurant inside was bright, cheerful, and had elements of the Cat Cafe, Ucchan's, and other elements that nobody could immediately place. Some of the outer walls were shaped like ice waterfalls, backlit for lighting. Other parts were enfolded in jungle-like canopy so tables could eat in privacy, but by far most of the seating was in a massive, open area that looked like an arena with seats and tables ringing around a floor that was a massive kitchen. Further exploration was put on hold until a few more answers could be found. Ukyo found the stairs up to the living quarters in the area between the big prep kitchens and the storage areas. The opulence had dimmed a bit away from the big show areas where the customers were expected, becoming surfaces less ornate and easier to keep clean. Climbing up the steps, the four girls ran into an apartment area not unlike a high class highrise, only with *lots* more space than typical for a Japanese design. There were hallways and doors leading off into individual apartments, plus they could see a big, common sitting room with wide windows letting in the sun. Kasumi stepped out from standing among the others to look at the sitting room. While not traditional in its furnishings, there was an open appeal to it. Large wood was a predominant theme, vaulted ceilings with skylights and chairs with ample padding. Plants swung from hanging planters or stood in stands while books made it a pleasant sort of place where one could spend time occupying oneself in solitude or with a party of friends. She sniffed. There were only pleasant smells. She checked in a local garbage can. It was empty and sanitary. Looking about, it was obvious that the drapes were well cared for and the wood well polished. Finally, she wiped a finger across a hard-to-reach corner above a mantle, behind a small statue standing in an alcove, and then behind a vase in a recessed stand. Finding not a speck of dust, she beamed a smile. There was no evidence of home destroyers anywhere to be found. It was spotlessly clean, peaceful, and tasteful. Even moderately elegant. She could live here. Kasumi became, if not happy, then at least content. Shampoo threw herself down in one of the large, padded chairs. “Mmm, these chairs made in village. Is good, amazon design. See?” She got up and lifted the chair above her head, straining to do it. Then she dropped it back with a thud. “Even Violent Tomboy have trouble breaking these chairs. They sturdy, and *very* comfortable.” In evidence of her last statement, Shampoo dropped back down into the chair and oozed out a sigh of contentment. Kasumi had suddenly recalled to her mind the image of Akane breaking their... err, *her* veranda’s screen door that day, and began to brightly appreciate the concept of sturdy furnishings and construction. Nabiki had focused on more practical matters, and now approached the others. “Hey, guys, which of you has the key? We’ve got to find which apartment is ours and the only way we’ve got so far is by trying locks.” There came a searching of pockets. Finally, Ukyo handed over her key ring. “Here, those are the keys to my restaurant. The only one I don’t recognize is the one that got us in the front door here, but maybe it works in one of these doors too.” As Nabiki accepted and was pondering over the key ring, there came a sound of a door opening behind them. Instantly spinning and hiding the keys behind her back, Nabiki had cause to suddenly wonder what her concern was about. A woman entered the open room and closed on the girls, hugging them each individually. Nabiki was frozen in shock as she watched this person move between and, smiling brightly, hug each one of them. So much so that she obviously tipped off the older woman, who came to stop at Nabiki as her last recipient. “Why, Nabiki, dear. Whatever could be the matter?” The middle Tendo daughter’s wits restarted. Stock: Long hair, done up fancily in a vaguely Chinese style, check. Green silk, Chinese dress, check. Earrings and other ornaments, check. Utter lack of kimono, traditional hairstyle, wrapped bundle, or any other familiar element. Yet it could not be denied that this was Nodoka. “A... Aun... Auntie?” Nodoka turned to Ukyo. “Ukyo-chan, could you please tell me what the matter could be with Nabiki? She seems distraught... or confused. I haven’t been your Auntie for months, ever since I became your mother.” “M... mom?” Ukyo blinked out. When Nodoka nodded, Ukyo barreled into her in a warm hug. “Oh Mom! I have a mom! I’m so happy!” Nodoka raised her eyes to the rest in confusion. There came a warm purr from Shampoo’s chair. Kasumi smiled winsomely at her mother, giving calming reassurance. “Don’t worry about them, mother. Ranma was just taking us horseback riding. There’s nothing the matter.” Shampoo’s head popped up, with her eyes rising barely above the rim of the chair arm. “Only Kasumi get more than fair turn!” The indignant amazon then sludged back into the warm comfort of the chair. Kasumi blinked innocently. “I guess I *did* get to ride longer than any of the others.” Glancing down at the daughter-in-law plastering her in a hug, and the still not-yet-recovered Nabiki, Nodoka answered. “You mean after three months and my son’s attentions still effect them this strongly?” She smiled proudly. Kasumi began to look slightly strained. While that’s *not* what she’d meant, apparently the idea satisfied her new mother. Kasumi filed that under ‘excuses not to use in the future’ as too embarrassing. The pot of untended ingredients burbled and bubbled on the Tendo stove. This wasn't THAT unusual. Little flickers of purple lightning, on the other hand, were not common. Akane got back to her first attempt to make a magical potion, dropping her diary nearby, only to see the purple jolts weaving together in the air over the pot. The air ripped open and a character that could have been drawn by Warner Brothers stepped out. "FREE! FREE AT LAST! TO RAVAGE AND PILLAGE AND..." The ludicrous looking figure stopped in mid-rant. "Hold on. Something's not right here." Akane started checking the recipe. This couldn't be right. How could she have summoned a batwinged purple platypus? This was supposed to be a dispelling magic! "WHAT DID YOU DO?!" The platypus was quite alarmed. "I'm supposed to be nine feet tall, and have BIG, sharp... and I'm NOT supposed to look anything like this!" "Maybe I shouldn't have used the miso soup base for lavender." Akane thought to herself. She didn't think it made THAT big a difference. "You're kidding, right? You didn't," the platypus caught a glimpse of the papers. "How in the Nine Hells did you summon me when you were trying to cast Nimodes' Nifty Nullifier?" "Go away. You're not what I wanted and you're distracting me." "Like it or not, toots, you're stuck with me. You've got to make a wish, then I've got to collect the payment. Them's the rules about summoning demons." Akane looked over the platypus and made a depreciating noise. "It's *your* fault, mortal! Somehow you set this up so my summoning parameters were screwed up. Now I'm seven inches tall and a purple... whatever I am. Hurry up and make your wish so I can get back to normal!" "A wish?" Akane grinned. Maybe this would work out anyway. "I wish that Ranma had never made that wish!" "Hmmmm?" The platypus flew over and started leafing through her diary. "No can do, toots. The effects have already settled down. I can change the past, but he’s had a dozen years of relative time to work on it. That’s beyond my range. The rest of this stuff’s too widespread. I do have limited power, you know." "Well, then, fix what it did! Make him not married to any of those people!" "That I can do." The demon agreed and buzzed off at high speed. All he needed to do was kill this Ranma person, mortal marriages were til death do they part. Then he'd go back and carry that dumb sorceress off to the Pits Of Despair and make her spend a few centuries paying for turning him into a purple whatever-the-heck he was! To the girl’s surprise, they found (without directly asking) that they did not live in the apartments above the restaurant, but at the temple at the top of the hill. On their way out, they met Ranma coming into the building and the whole lot of them trooped up there together. The temple was a sprawling but well-intended hodgepodge that had started out in some distant past as a shrine dedicated to some force of nature and had known a number of owners since. The stained glass had to have come from a Catholic period of occupation, the wood construction was thoroughly Shinto, but some of the Buddhist elements caught one by surprise. In all, it was large and fairly purposeless and gave the impression of a wise old man who’d grown fairly confused. Friendly in a muddled sort of way. It was an ancient temple, which actually disappointed the girls somewhat as that meant there was no running water or electricity. But it was beautiful (and clean) and so none of them were going to complain about it much so far. Someone had discovered hints that improvements were planned, so they wouldn’t need to be envying the staff living in the restaurant apartments for long. Kasumi determined there was not a panda furball as far as the eye could see, and relaxed her apprehension. Everyone quickly found their rooms. But, to their surprise, none of the girls had really unpacked yet, even after having supposedly been home for three days. What *did* surprise them was when they chose to congregate in Ranma’s room. Ukyo whistled low and soft. “Aiyaah!” Shampoo’s face went white, then rosy. She chanced a speculative glance across at her husband. The color drained from Kasumi’s face and she began to appear very small and mouselike. Nabiki tackled Ranma onto the gigantic bed that was the master bedroom’s primary feature. They sank six inches into its plush softness and bounced lightly as the bed rebounded. “So, Ranma.” She found herself unable not to purr seductively. “Our wedding bed. How nice.” Ukyo blinked, then made a move for the door. “Uhh, maybe we should leave you two alone for awhile.” Kasumi looked ready to bolt. Shampoo jumped and came down, legs tucked up, bottom first, on the bed, bouncing Nabiki off of their husband. As the bed jostled them up and down she rode it like waves. “Sneaky Girl not to seduce husband now! Is much too much talking to do.” Her eyes went level and sultry toward their target. “Seduce husband later, when all talking finished.” Seeing that Ranma’s room was the only one set up, orderly, with everything put away, Ukyo went to one of the many bookshelves and pulled out the volumes of photo albums she found there, taking them over and dropping them onto the bed. Then she joined the others in bouncing on it. Opening the first scrapbook, Ukyo noticed that Kasumi still hadn’t moved. “Say sugar, what’s the matter? Aren’t you going to join us?” Kasumi was still looking with something very closely approaching fright at the humongous bed. She pointed at it. Shampoo saw the point and divined the question. “Is Amazon Marriage Bed. Is too too many centuries since last time one built in village. They rare, but all amazon girl dream to have one. Is *very* great honor. Need husband of great status to afford, then only happen when great sculptor in tribe. Wife have to pose many hour.” Kasumi Eeeped, looking paler by the moment. It was an enormous bed, nine feet across at the least. The way it bounced and rippled made it look almost like the sea, an impression the richly blue coverlets were no doubt intended to enhance. But it did not sag around its occupants like a waterbed would. It more gave the impression of being a blue cloud on which angels might rest. That was not the difficulty the oldest Tendo daughter was having with it. It was a four poster bed, with every surface carved and richly detailed... which *was* giving Kasumi her problem. The wood was a pale golden color, unstained but lovingly polished. And the idea of someone polishing *that* made Kasumi weak in the knees, because all four posters, the head and foot boards were all made up of female figures, highly accurate female figures. Specifically, it was made up of Ranma’s wives. Kasumi was compulsively staring at the right hand poster nearest to her, where her own image was made, arms overhead to hold up the canopy, head twisted to gaze back toward the center of the bed. Her pose was... not immoral, not wanton, but on the fair side of sultry. Her image was dressed, as were all the other girls depicted, in a fair approximation of Greek robes. A *thin* Greek robe, to be precise. From her position it was only possible to get a look at the back of her statue’s head. Fearing the worst, Kasumi leaned around to get a look at her copy’s face. What she saw astonished her, causing her to blink. She’d suspected the artist would have taken liberties from which Kasumi would never recover her dignity, some lustful thing, no doubt, putting an expression on her that would have shamed her to her dying day. It wasn’t like that at all. Her face, done in golden wood, was staring with adoring and open love at the place where Ranma was now bobbing in the receding waves. It was a happy and carefree expression, the face of someone who’d found everything she’d ever wanted and then some. It wasn’t lustful. It was... joyous. The Tendo daughter’s face went slack with astonishment. She stared at Ranma and blinked several times. He could have made her feel like that? No, it wasn’t... possible? But how could the artist have captured her face so beautifully unless she’d somehow seen that look on her? Could he really have made her feel like that? Shampoo was staring proudly at where her own poster was gazing down on them, her face an open expression of gladness with just a hint of mischief. On both of Shampoo’s faces, now that the others thought about it. “Is very good design. Shampoo not know we have artist in village who can do such carving. Is very precious. Is monument to love for husband, see? Bride pose on day before wedding. Maybe week before wedding for this many. Mattress ready and is used as wedding bed, then couple go off on journey. Leave relatives for honeymoon. When come back, bed is finished and is final wedding gift, after land and flocks. Is very symbolic, very precious. Legend say so long as love last bride can no be made do anything hurt husband, and he always faithful.” Shampoo wiped a tear away, sniffing at the beauty of the symbolism. Ukyo found herself dewing up just a bit too. Absently, she reached out and snagged Nabiki’s collar, pulling her away from where she’d been rubbing her face in Ranma’s chest. “Behave yourself, sugar. We’re not done yet.” “These aren’t the pictures we saw at... at Akane’s house.” Kasumi had flipped open one of the photo albums, having joined the others on the bed, her own carved face having given her an unspoken assurance that it was alright. The others opened their photo albums and discovered that was true. There were the pictures Akane had, but also many others she hadn’t. Ukyo showed one to Shampoo. “Do you have any idea where this is?” The amazon looked at it and shook her head, eyes wide. “Is not any place near village. Those not mountains of amazon homeland.” She measured up the warriors depicted. Big, strong males and as many strong females, all armed and looking like they’d been having a grand time. “Here’s another. Hey! There’s a whole series!” Ukyo was flipping through her book, revealing page upon page of exotic locales filled with the big foreign men and warrior women. Shampoo stared at a picture of herself posing next to a guy who had to scrape seven feet tall, all of it chiseled muscle. They were standing upon a surface that’d been painted to look like a giant rainbow, only it didn’t *look* like paint, or even a real floor. It had to be a photographic effect. Anyway, Shampoo and the monstrously tall warrior were both in identical poses of guardianship, only the near giant had a fatherly wink down at the comparatively tiny amazon, who was trying hard to keep the mischief off her face and look serious. It was adorable. Nabiki scooted closer to this conversation, riding the bumps that her movement caused. “Wow. So Ranma darling’s not only loaded, he’s got some kind of wild cult of warriors we’re now all friends with.” She glanced briefly aside at Shampoo’s stunned reaction to her words before looking down to see a photo of herself wearing furs and holding a bloody-tipped boar spear next to the corpse of the aforementioned variety of wild pig, and looking absurdly pleased with herself. Nabiki had to doubletake at *how* childishly pleased with herself she looked. She couldn’t remember actually *smiling* like that in.... Whenever. She had to have smiled like that once, right? Nabiki shook herself from introspective stupor and went on. “Anyway, it seems we’ve been pouring a ton of money into Shampoo’s tribe. I took a glance at our books and we’ve got some serious smuggling going on, sending all sorts of loot their way, and we’ve bought so many amazon goods that I can’t help but think their tribe is flourishing.” Ukyo uncovered a picture of herself cooking okanomiyaki for what seemed an endless throng of well-built men and women garbed in silvery mail. She could only help but wonder at it. She seemed happy in the photo, though. There was another big group picture that neither she nor Nabiki could identify. They were all, the entire crowd of what they assumed were they and Ranma’s other wives, bathing in some wild hot spring or other. It couldn’t have been that hot because Ranma was still in girl form, even while taking a dip in it. Since Shampoo was also in her girl form that had to mean the water hovered around that elusive temperature that wouldn’t trigger a curse either way. Either that or magic was involved. She made to show the photo to the other girl. “Hey, Shampoo. Do you...” She noticed that the busty amazon was nowhere near where they’d last left her. “Hey!!” Ukyo yanked at the back of Shampoo’s short dress, pulling her from where she’d been perched atop and aggressively nuzzling Ranma. The amazon began to scramble, yanking on Ranma’s clothes. “Shampoo want to see husband naked!” “Later, please!” Kasumi pled, looking far more distressed and urgent than any of them had ever seen her before. Her plea caused Shampoo to stop yanking at the ties on Ranma’s clothes. Quietly, they all subsided and went back to their books. Nabiki found something almost immediately, having switched to looking over her diary (why it was shelved in Ranma’s room, looking like it belonged, she did not want to speculate). Nabiki flipped through her journal to make sure this was the relevant entry, read it twice to herself, then read it aloud to the stunned audience. ------------------------------ from the journal of Saotome Nabiki: February 13, 1993 Well, even dealing with our normal level of insanity, today was... unusual. Ranma was being fed breakfast that Akane had made with her usual attention to instructions. Sushi for breakfast is unusual, but _blowfish_?! Even Akane should have known better. Anyway, trained martial artist with an iron constitution or not, Ranma was dead on arrival. Genma called his wife, gave her the news, and there we all were dealing with a martial artist who had assumed room temperature. I don't think even blowfish toxin is supposed to work that quickly, but we won't know what Akane did with it until the lab boys give their report. End of story, right? If it had happened to me, probably. This is Ranma, however, and weird things seem drawn to his presence. Tofu says it's because his yin and yang are so out of balance. I dunno. So, anyway, this girl pops in out of nowhere, and tells us that ol' man Genma had made a deal with certain spirits back when he was caught stealing scrolls out of some temple in Okinawa. Promising them, of course, his first born son in return for his release. At which point everyone else notices what I'm staring at and start to take this a little more seriously than the average nut escaping out of the psycho ward. She was still floating a good two inches off the ground. No wires, no mirrors, no optical illusion. Floating. So, we manage to tell her that Ranma's dead, and you'd expect her to go and find something better to do, right? No. She goes to Ranma's bedside, pulls the sheet off his face and forces a vial of something into his mouth. One light show later, Ranma is blinking and complaining about how much he hurts. So, we're dealing with all this, when Auntie Saotome says that because Akane has killed Ranma once already, that she's going to exercise her privilege as Ranma's mother and cancel the Akane-Ranma engagement. She doesn't know Akane, but she doesn't care at this point. She favors this new girl, for obvious reasons. Strange girl, that, shy and demure, doesn't like to call attention to herself, but when she gets it into her head that something needs done- get out of her way! She’s got a stereotypical gaijin appearance; blonde hair, blue eyes, top heavy, but seeming to have a bubbly enthusiasm that shows through whenever she's doing something. So I get her name, and do an information search. I contacted (Nabiki mumbled something and hurried past that part, something about it not being important). I didn't bother to tell him the details, I just wanted to find out everything he could about some woman named "Astrild." He remarked that looking for a Norwegian girl in Tokyo would be rather easier than some of the tasks he'd been given in the past. ------------------------------ Nabiki looked up at the assembled group. "Astrild?" A purple haired head was shaking. “Shampoo not know name. Maybe Ukyo?” “Hey!!!” Nabiki and Shampoo appeared on either side of the okanomiyaki chef, catching her lying atop of Ranma, her cheek held close against his now bare chest, sighing in joy. Ukyo had the grace to look sheepish. It almost worked, too. They had to think about it before they pried her off of their collective husband. They somehow neglected to return his shirt to him “Wait turn!” Shampoo admonished her sister-wife. Ukyo swished her long hair, suddenly playful and girlish. “Honey, as far as I’m concerned, I’m first in line.” “Can we not argue about it, please?” Kasumi pled, looking like she more than halfway wished she were elsewhere. They all looked repentant and had the grace to back off. Ranma sat up woozily, three different shades of lipstick coloring his face. His eyes uncrossed and he had the grace to ask. “Huh?” It became apparent that the poor male had weakened under the near-continual hormone-tweaking assaults he’d been under, and against which he’d had no defense. They waited a moment for him to recover. “Ranma-honey, do you know anyone named Astrild?” Ukyo asked, having been listening in spite of her other activity. Ranma's eyes widened and he sat up straight. "Uh oh." "Ranchan?" Ukyo said in a low voice. "Do you want to share this knowledge with the rest of the group?" He flicked his wrist and his staff went from being a bracelet to full length in his hand and he floated off the bed. “Something just impacted our outer ring of wards. I wasn’t expecting any kind of sorcerous assault, especially this soon. Come, I’m going to inspect them to make sure nothing got through.” The young ladies scrambled off the bed to follow the floating mage out into the corridor outside the room. He grabbed his shirt on the way out.