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Phoenix Odyssey
17. Kicking Butt, Taking Names

17. Kicking Butt, Taking Names

“Yes! That was perfect, Hideki! Great job!” Akane beamed at her student, a sophomore only a few months Akane’s junior, through the gap his foot left in the board she was holding. She tossed the two splintered halves of wood to the grass, reaching forward to offer a congratulatory high-five to the young man in the white gi. “That’s the way, bud!”

Akane snatched another slightly-warped plywood board from a stack piled under a nearby tree, bracing her bare feet in the grass in a forward stance and holding the new piece of wood vertically with a pair of locked elbows. “Alright, Juro. Just like we talked about. You got this!”

The sentence had barely cleared her lips when the board snapped in twain, the fist of Juro Nakahara stopping mere inches from the sensei’s nose.

“Dude! That was so great! I’m so proud of all you guys!” Akane clapped, and her applause was joined by a second set of hands she heard approaching from behind her.

“I see Kaito’s donation is going to good use.”

Akane turned, smiling broadly and waving to her partner. “Yep! Your brother really came through for us with all this extra lumber.”

Ranko blushed, biting her lip. He’s your brother too, silly girl, but I guess I can’t say that in front of all your students. “I’m glad it’s helping.”

The black-haired sensei bowed to her students. “Let’s have a quick lap around the quad, everybody.” A chorus of groans met her in reply, but one by one, the six young men and Ranko’s friend Shiori formed a single-file line and began jogging toward the edge of the grassy commons.

“I’m guessing school ran late,” Akane asked, turning back to her wife once the pair were alone. “Must have, since you’re still in your uniform.”

Ranko blushed, smiling a bit. “Yeah. I stuck around for a little extra help in math. Stupid limits. The only limit I’m finding is mine. Besides, you should enjoy this outfit while you can. You’re only getting a couple more months of me in this thing.” She bit the tip of her finger, a coy little giggle on her lips. “But I can find somewhere to go change if you want - how much longer are you gonna run class tonight?”

The singer’s wife laughed, putting her arm around her bride. She walked alongside her, leading her into the shade of a large oak tree and sitting on the pile of as-yet unbroken misfit plywood scraps that Kaito’s construction company had donated. “Like you wouldn’t put it on again if I asked. And besides, in a couple months, I’ll be bedding a college cheerleader whenever I want instead.”

The redhead tittered brightly, fidgeting with her newly shoulder-length red hair as she took a seat on the boards next to her wife. “I’ll be sure to bring plenty of spirit.”

Akane nodded, pulling Ranko close and whispering in her ear. “Maybe we should buy Mr. Gao a new pair of earplugs for Christmas.” She blew cold air softly over her lover’s earlobe for emphasis.

The younger girl shivered, her hypersensitive skin bristling at both the December chill and her wife’s teasing. She did draw some warmth from her flushing cheeks, blushing at the thought of being overheard. The Full-Body Cat’s Tongue certainly made for quite the experience when she made love, both for herself, and anyone else who happened to be in earshot. “If he hasn’t bought himself a pair by now, it’s gotta be because he likes to listen in.”

“Maybe.” Akane giggled. “Not like you’re gonna keep it down.”

Ranko shook her head matter-of-factly, biting her lower lip and smickering at her wife. Her voice was a soft purr. “Akane! Honestly! I’m a singer. If anyone knows you’re supposed to cheer when you experience an absolutely incredible performance…”

“O… kay!” It was Akane’s turn to blush, and she hid her face a bit against the shoulder of Ranko’s school uniform with a nervous chuckle. “Well, I, uh… I’m glad you like my work.”

“Five stars, every time.” Ranko giggled, deciding to be merciful and change the subject, lest her partner squirm all the way off of the lumber pile into the grass. She motioned to the train of young martial artists jogging around the east perimeter of the common quad. “They’re looking good. They’re looking ready.”

Akane nodded, the mirth disappearing from her eyes. She adjusted the cloth belt of her black master’s gi where it was biting uncomfortably into her stomach. “Yeah, they are. I haven’t had the heart to tell them yet.”

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“Tell ‘em what?” Ranko pulled her hand from the right pocket of her red school pinafore, producing a pair of individually-wrapped strips of salmon jerky. She tore one open with her teeth, offering the other to Akane.

Akane bit her lip gently, a sadness in her eyes. “That we’re not gonna be in the tournament after all.” She took the packaged snack from her wife, but made no effort to open it.

“Says who?” Ranko swallowed a bite of the dried fish, wiping the crumbs from her mouth with the back of her right wrist. “We’re gonna do this thing, and we’re gonna wipe the damn floor with everybody there. You know we will. It’s in the bag, babe.”

Akane shook her head, a disappointed pall in her eyes. “I got a letter this morning. The rules say that in order for a dojo to compete, you have to have entrants in the novice, advanced, and master tiers. I entered Hideki and Toshiyaki in advanced, Shiori and the rest of the boys in novice, and myself in master, but they rejected it because senseis aren’t allowed to compete.”

“Gee,” Ranko asked incredulously, nudging Akane in the ribs gently with her left elbow. “I wonder where you could possibly find a master-level disciple of Anything-Goes Martial Arts on short notice! Why didn’t you add me to the list in the first place, ya big dummy?!”

Akane scoffed, waving away the suggestion with the back of her hand. “Come on, Ranko, be serious. Between cheerleading, prep for the tour, work, and everything, you barely even have time to do your homework anymore. And, more importantly, I’m not subjecting you to the risk of getting hurt so I can win some plastic trophy. It’s not worth it. Not even close.”

Ranko sighed. “You mean the Cat’s Tongue. Akane, I can still fight, especially if I’m fighting with tournament rules. If I get hit, I get a couple minutes to get over it before the fight starts again, so they can’t hurt me too bad. I mean, heck, the most anyone could possibly hit me is three times. Besides, it’s not about a trophy, love. It’s about honor. Yours, and the dojo’s. Our dojo’s. Let me do this for us. For you.”

Akane sighed. “Ranko, I… I can’t ask you to do that. Not with how…”

Ranko cupped her hand around Akane’s cheek, turning her lover’s face to force her to make eye contact. “Akane, you’re not asking. I’m offering. I want to do it. I miss martial arts. I mean, I know I’ll never be able to fight like I used’ta, but… please let me do this? Let me take just one day, out of all the time I spend being a cheerleader and a singer and a waitress and a housewife, and just… get to have a little taste of what I used to be? Just for a second, just long enough to prove to myself I still can?”

“But what if you get hurt?! What if something happens and… I won’t be able to protect you out there, baby.” Akane rubbed Ranko’s leg through her thick cotton school pinafore skirt. “It’s not like it used to be before. I can’t just stand by and watch you fight any more. You’re my wife. You’re mine to look after now. It’s my responsibility. You’re the cute one, and I’m the…”

Ranko sighed, cutting her bride off with a wave of her hand. “First off, you’re cute too, ya know. For a tomboy, anyway.” She laughed playfully, squeezing her wife around the shoulders. “Second, you know I had to fight to even get us into the tournament in the first place, right?”

Akane nodded, craning her neck to gauge how much longer their privacy would last before her students completed their jog around the quad. “I remember. You said there was all kinds of applications, and…”

“No, Akane. I literally fought a dude. The sensei from the joint across the street from the Phoenix wanted a demo…”

“You WHAT?! Ranko, how could…”

“... and I beat him, Akane. I mean, he hit me once, and not gonna lie, it hurt pretty good there for a minute, but I got back up. And I won. For us. For you. So we could do this, and show everybody our art. So your students could take pride in their school, and their sensei.” Ranko blushed, smiling lovingly up into her lover’s eyes as her hand reached for Akane’s. “Our sensei.”

Akane paused, seeming to consider it for a moment, but having made up her mind, she shook her head emphatically. “No. I can’t expose you to that kind of risk, princess. If you get hurt, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Ranko leaned over to her left, burrowing herself under Akane’s arm and snuggling against her chest. “I do. You’ll take care of me and love me until I’m okay again, like you always do. Like I know you always will.” She tittered softly, whispering as she affected a gaze of pure adoration that needed little encouragement. “My hero.”

My gods, when did I become the damsel in distress? And, more importantly, when did it start feeling so damn good to be the one getting rescued?

The dojo’s master sighed in quiet resignation, but couldn’t help a smicker at her lover’s playfulness. “What am I ever gonna do with you, Ranko Tendo?”

“You’re gonna win yourself a tournament. You’re gonna put Anything-Goes Martial Arts on the map in a way Dad could only have dreamed of.” After scanning the quad for watching eyes, Ranko leaned up and stole a quick kiss under Akane’s chin, her cheek still nuzzled against her wife’s breast.

“As for what you do with me after that… I guess we’ll just have to ask Mr. Gao.”