Still in the red pinafore and white blouse of her school uniform, Ranko sat on a stool in the commercial kitchen of the bar that had once been her home, slicing celery sticks for the chicken wing baskets. With it being this close to opening, she couldn’t believe her sisters and Hana hadn’t shown up yet. Singing and serving she could handle, but not even she could run this whole place by herself, least of all on a Friday night.
It felt so surreal to be alone in the Phoenix again. She hadn’t been since she moved out of the little apartment upstairs almost six weeks ago, and she could scarcely believe how much things had changed for her just since then. Before, the times here before the girls came in had often felt melancholic and lonely, as if she were some piece of kitchen equipment that was stored there until it was time to use it again the next day. She spent so much time in solitude that she thought she’d go crazy some mornings. But, now, there was a certain zen about it. Between school, the extra classes she was taking, trying to make it to Akane’s volleyball games, keeping the house as best she could, her work at the Phoenix, and practices with her band, Ranko felt as if she never had any time to just sit with her thoughts anymore. She missed it a little, and she felt as if she had a huge backlog of things to work through in her brain when she could find the downtime to do it.
She couldn’t remember a time in her life when she had been this exhausted. Sure, training with her father had often worn her out, but a night or two of decent rest and she’d be back to fighting form. But now, she felt like she could sleep for a week and barely scratch the surface. It wasn’t even just that her body was tired; her mind was, too. There was still so much to learn and process every day for her, and that was even before she got to school or worked on one of the four homeschool courses she was taking to try to catch up academically.
It wasn’t helping matters that going to bed no longer necessarily meant going to sleep, but Ranko had absolutely no complaints about the other bedroom activity she and Akane had discovered. Some days she got out of bed more tired than she had been getting into it, but it was a trade she was happy to make. A Red Bull from the vending machine could replace a few hours of sleep, but nothing else on earth could make her feel the way Akane did when they were together. She was glad that Akane had started letting her return the favor, though Ranko regretted that the experience wasn’t quite the same for her. Akane insisted that it was only the Cat’s Tongue that differentiated the two, but Ranko had more than once found herself wondering if she was doing something wrong.
Her tray of celery now processed into uniform five-centimeter stalks, she laid her chef’s knife on the cutting board and slid the tray back on the counter with a sigh. The tempura batter was done, the garnishes for the drinks were ready, and the dredge for the wings, too. They had restocked the liquor in Yui’s well last night after closing, so that was finished, too. She felt like she might be forgetting something, that she couldn’t possibly have prepped the whole kitchen by herself in an hour, but as she looked around the room, she couldn’t see anything she’d missed. That almost worried her more.
Her ever-present Walkman headphones in her ears with her back to the saloon door leading into the front of the house, Ranko played with her voice, practicing little runs in her higher registers.
“It must have been love, but it’s ooo-OH-ver now… it must have been goo-OO–ood, but I lost it somehow…”
She didn’t hear the saloon door swing open behind her, and thus didn’t notice that she was no longer alone in the kitchen until she was tapped on the small of her back. Grateful she’d already put down her knife, she pulled her earphones down around her neck and swiveled the stool, coming face-to-face with the last member of her family she expected to find in the kitchen of the Phoenix an hour before opening.
“Hoshi? What are you doing here, kiddo?”
Izumi’s young son stood in the kitchen, still wearing the gray slacks and white shirt of his school uniform as well. He was all smiles. “Hi, Auntie Ranko!”
Ranko smiled, tousling his hair. “Hey, buddy. It’s good to see you! You liking school so far this year?”
The boy nodded. “It’s fun. What about you?”
Ranko blushed. Weird as it was to think of herself as an aunt, or think of herself as a junior in high school, it was weirder still to think about them both at the same time. “Yeah. It’s good. Very different from what I’m used to, but you know, I think it’s gonna be okay.” She wasn’t sure if she was fully convinced yet, but somehow, she didn’t think her eight-year-old nephew was the appropriate person to confide the whole, “being a girl in high school is weird” thing in.
“Seriously, little man. Where’s your mom? Is everything okay?”
Hoshi looked up at her with a sincere smile on his ever-so-slightly pudgy face. “Auntie Ranko, would you do something for me?”
Ranko swiveled around a bit on her stool, hopping to her feet and squatting down beside him, putting her arm around her nephew’s back with a warm smile. She really loved that kid. She’d never breathe a word of it to Akane, but sometimes, hanging out with Hoshi made her wish it were possible for the two of them to have a child of their own one day, at least until the logistics of how that would work in practice nearly triggered a panic attack.
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“For you, Hoshi? I would do absolutely anything. All you have to do is ask.”
The little boy reached into the pocket of his gray uniform slacks, producing a small, transparent plastic box and handing it to her.
Ranko flipped the little package over in her hands, and found herself staring into her own eyes. The cassette’s cover art featured her posing in an alley - the one right behind the kitchen in which she now stood, in fact - with Crash, Shinji, Jacob and Ken all standing behind her in matching black leather jackets, white tee shirts and black jeans. Ranko herself was front and center in a pair of black boots with chunky heels, sunglasses, and her black pleated skirt under a deep purple crushed velvet tee shirt.
She hadn’t seen the finished product before now. She didn’t know they were even produced yet. If she didn’t recognize the people in the photograph, it would have looked like any other tape she’d bought. She hadn’t been sure what to expect, but now that she saw it, a sense of relief that it didn’t look inferior or amateur came over her. It looked natural. It looked normal. It looked like she and her friends in the Dapper Dragons belonged on the cover of that cassette, as if being on the cover of an album was her rightful place in the universe.
As Ranko wiped a tear from her eyes, Hoshi reached into his other pocket and produced a black marker. “Would you sign it for me, auntie?”
Ranko blushed, and she made no effort to hold back her soft tears of joy. “Oh, Hoshi. Of course I will, honey.”
Her hands shook as she removed the cellophane wrapper, leaving it on the counter. She pulled the insert out, unfolding it to reveal a few photos of the band at the Phoenix, taken the same day as the cover image had been, and a section on the inside including the lyrics to Rise. It listed Hana, Akane and all four of her sisters among the many special thanks mentions, credited Noboyuki “Crash” Matsuyama and Shinji Yokota as co-composers, and under the songwriter heading, it listed her name. Her identity. Ranko Tendo. The woman she had sculpted, with a whole lot of help, out of clay she made by mixing the tears of a homeless, nameless girl with the ashes of Ranma Saotome’s life. A work in progress to be sure, but one of her own making, and one that, for the first time in her life, she was truly proud of.
Laying the glossy foldout on a clean spot on the kitchen counter, she uncapped the marker, and wrote over one of the photos of her on stage.
Hoshi, any time somebody says that you can’t do something, especially if it’s you saying it, put in this tape and remember what your auntie did with the help of our family that loves us both. You are limitless and you are never, ever alone. Love, Ranko
Hoshi read over her writing, struggling with one or two of the words. Ranko helped him slide it back into the cassette case, handing it to him. “Thank you, Hoshi. It means the world to me that you would ask me to do that for you. You have no idea.” She squatted down again, giving him a tight hug. “I love you so much, buddy.”
She’d signed napkins and receipts and stuff for people in the bar before, but this felt different. She felt like she actually had a reason this time that wasn’t just horny guys thinking she was cute and hoping she’d add her phone number. She’d created something and put it into the world, and at least somebody thought it had some value. Before, she was a performer. Now? She was an artist.
When she let him go, Hoshi took her hand and started pulling her toward the saloon doors. “Buddy, hey, where are you taking me? I gotta make sure everything is done before your granny gets here, or she’s gonna wring my neck!”
Though she could have easily planted her feet and stopped him, Ranko giggled and let him pull her to, and then through, the swinging blue door. When she got to the other side, she did have to stop dead in her tracks, however.
On her left, standing behind the bar at Yui’s station, were Hana, Yui, Izumi and Mei. Izumi waved excitedly, motioning for Hoshi to take a place beside her. Hana looked her over, her face bursting with pride. Mei bounced excitedly. Yui just gave her a little nod and a smile, but Ranko knew her well enough to know that was her I’m proud of you face she was wearing, insomuch as she had one.
On her right, Akane smiled at her lovingly from the staff side of the service bar, giving her a moment to process what was happening. She wore Ranko’s white floral dress; the one Akane had picked out for her girlfriend to wear the first night she’d stayed with her at the Phoenix.
On the other side of the counter, sitting on the top of one of the round tables with their feet in the seats of the chairs, Crash, Ken, Shin, Jacob and Ariel all waited, raising bottles of beer skyward at her appearance.
To the left, closer to the front door, Ranko’s eldest sister Ayako stood with her husband Kage. Turning from his conversation with Kage, Izumi’s new husband Kaito waved to the songstress.
Standing alone, leaning against the side wall, was Akane’s older sister Nabiki, flashing a knowing little grin. Never in a million years did she think she’d be doing this for the person she’d once known as Ranma, but if it had been a Martian that made her sister smile like Ranko did, Nabiki would have greeted it with open arms, too.
A little shriek of excitement came from the bespectacled girl in the school uniform matching Ranko’s, seated at the patrons’ side of the bar. Kumiko waved enthusiastically with both of her hands high in the air.
Every person in the room held a cassette or CD and a marker in their hands.