“Good! Again!”

Ranko planted her feet, preparing herself for the unavoidable sting. Even through the thick foam pad strapped to her forearm, the Cat’s Tongue made its presence known every time Akane’s newest student landed a punch.

The Minato University quad was quiet that day, and each snap of a fist against the pad on her arm echoed through the mid-morning still. The cold wasn’t helping; in fact, it only ramped up the sensitivity of Ranko’s every nerve ending further, and it was all she could do to avoid audibly yelping with each practice strike her training partner landed. What I’d give to not be barefoot, Ranko thought through a little shiver as her toes nestled between blades of dew-slick grass.

“Aren’t you supposed to, like, get used to getting hit if you do this enough? Like, where it doesn’t hurt as much anymore? How long have you been doing this,” the taller girl asked as she set herself for another punch.

Seventeen years, Ranko thought as she winced through the next blow. “Oh, come on, Shi’ri, I’ve been a wuss about as long as you’ve known me.”

Shiori Nagata giggled, nodding as she switched sides and prepared to throw a punch with her left hand. “Yep, that’s you, Ranko! The Glass Orchid of Yusue High!”

Ranko blushed behind a cute little smile. While she hated that she had a reputation for being fragile, she didn’t mind the orchid part, referring to the new kanji she’d chosen to represent her name when Akane’s father had adopted her. Beats the hell out of blue thunder, she thought with a little giggle. She adjusted the black belt around her deep purple gi. She and Akane had chosen the color to distinguish her as a student instructor from the beginner students’ white gis and Akane’s master black. Plus, Ranko got a kick out of it being the colors of the university her wife attended - and that in a matter of months, she would, too – if her math grades cooperated, anyway.

Indeed, Ranko hoped that the addition of Akane’s first female student - herself not included, of course - and a cheerleader to the class’ roster would improve the energy level of the group. Ranko only occasionally found the time to attend Akane’s classes, but her students seemed almost despondent the last few times she had. They seemed to be learning well enough, and a few of the seven of them could probably handle themselves pretty well in a fight by now, but there was a motivation factor that seemed to be missing in their weekly workouts of late.

Akane’s teaching style was far gentler than Ranko was used to, and while she was glad to see her wife and sensei was not resorting to torture disguised as training like Ranko’s father and Happosai had, Ranko thought she might have overcorrected somewhat. She dared not say anything, though - Akane had offered her control of the fledgling dojo on more than one occasion and Ranko had turned it down. She still didn’t want to run it, or really, to teach martial arts at all outside of occasionally helping out, but she wanted the school to be successful, even as she understood that its success would be meaningless unless it happened on Akane’s terms.

“Hey, you guys, bring it in, would ya?” Ranko whooped loudly in her trademark cheerleader tone, starting to tread gingerly toward the center of the little field where the majority of Akane’s students were sparring in pairs. Only Toshiaski Suzuki, the eldest of the dojo’s seven students and its strongest fighter, remained off in the distance with Akane. The enormous rugby player hit like Ryoga when he made contact, but his moves were clunky and undisciplined, and Akane had been working with him one-on-one in the hopes of harnessing his power more effectively.

"Hey, Ranko," Ando said, looking her over with concern. "You okay? You're walkin' like somebody kicked your ass." The freshman bent over as he spoke, stretching his left hamstring in the grass.

Ranko blushed, stammering out a response to Akane's youngest student. "Well, um, yeah, I'm fine. It's just... you know, this is a beginner class and I can't really learn a lot here at my level, so me and Sensei have... more intense workouts by ourselves, sometimes. You get it, right?"

Shiori grinned, putting her arm around her friend's back with a knowing smirk. "Ohh, poor Ranko! Did Sensei Akane use her new staff on you again?"

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Blushing furiously, Ranko hid her face behind her right hand. "It... um... It's like her favorite technique these days."

With a knowing smirk and a bright giggle, Shiori leaned over her shoulder in mock worry. "For it to mess up a martial artist as good as you as bad as that, she must be getting really good with it!”

Ranko covered her eyes with both hands, after having searched the grassy quad and found no holes she could hide in. "Yeah, she pretty much puts me flat on my back with it every time..." She could feel the heat from her face on the palms of her hands. Shut up, Shi’ri…

Shiori cackled, and Ranko uncovered her face, her eyes darting around to the six boys surrounding them to watch for signs of understanding in their faces. The redhead prayed she found none.

“Hey, at least she hasn’t put you face down with it… yet. Or, has she?”

“Aaaaaanyway,” Ranko cried out, desperate to change the subject. “I wanted to talk to you guys. You don’t seem as excited in class as you used to be, and I’m a little concerned. Just between you guys and me, is everything okay? Anything I need to talk to Sensei about?”

Nori looked up at her, sighing. The Minato junior was often distracted in class anyway, but he had seemed even more despondent than usual of late. “It’s just… I don’t know, we kinda feel like we’ve hit a wall, you know? Like, we’re learning more, but we’re not really getting better than anybody else in class, ‘cause we only ever spar against each other and we all learn at about the same pace. And, I mean, none of us are ever gonna be able to beat you.”

With a chuckle, Satoru Tashiro leaned back on the trunk of the tall tree under which he stood. The black-haired boy chuckled, shaking his head for emphasis. “And even if one of us were good enough to try, Sensei’d have any one of our asses doing pushups for a month if we hurt the teacher’s pet.”

Ranko blushed furiously, covering it with a quiet chuckle as she fingered the silver heart suspended on the black choker she wore. “Oh, come on, I’m not that fragile.”

Shiori just rolled her eyes, motioning to the tattered white cushion still strapped to her former cheerleading co-captain’s forearm.

Another of Akane’s students, an orange-haired Minato sophomore named Daichi, approached Ranko, shrugging as he walked. “Yeah, it’s like… We all know we can defend ourselves now, so it’s like, what more is there? What are w… whaaa!”

Pushing his friend off of his lap as he sat on the grass, Hideki Masuda rolled his eyes. “Damn it, Daichi, could you please watch where you’re walking?!”

“Sorry, Hideki,” the ginger boy said, brushing dirt and loose blades of grass from the knees of his white gi pants as he clamored back to his feet.

Smirking, Shiori put her arm around Ranko’s shoulder. “Hey, c’mere a second?” Ranko nodded, following slowly as she was pulled out of earshot of the group. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Shiori grinned down at her friend, who was a year her senior despite being a year behind her in school. In many ways, Shiori had been Ranko’s mentor in all things related to leadership, and the redheaded songstress revered her advice in such matters.

Ranko shrugged. “Maybe if I knew what you were thinking, I’d know if I was thinkin’ it! I’m just worried about these kids, and frankly, me and Akane can’t afford for her to lose students if they start gettin’ too bored.” While the newlyweds continued to receive quarterly payouts from Yokai Records for sales of Ranko’s first album, they were paltry at best. Most amounted to a nice date night or a new piece of furniture as a bonus, and all but the most recent two had been funneled directly into the budget for their July wedding. Once the band’s second album began selling, all that would hopefully change, as it would be paid out according to the new contract terms that their sister Nabiki had negotiated on behalf of the Dapper Dragons.

“Ya know, back when organized cheerleading first got started, the girls used to have this issue all the time, too. We’re here, we cheer, we go home, so what?” Shiori hopped up onto a granite bench that overlooked a small pond in the university quad, sitting on the back of it with her feet on the seat.

“Yeah? Well, how’d they fix it? I mean, who the heck cheers on the cheerleaders? I’ve never seen any cheerleader motivation seminars or nothin’.” Ranko sighed, leaning on the back of the bench next to her friend.

Shiori giggled. “Sure you have, Ranko.” She nudged the songwriter in the ribs gently with her elbow. “In fact, the trophy from your last one’s still in the case by the principal’s office.”