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Phoenix Odyssey
26. Blood and Honor

26. Blood and Honor

“Point! Tendo, winner!”

Ranko bowed sharply to her vanquished opponent, a lithe blonde from a local capoeira academy, to the cheers of the rightmost third of the half-capacity audience at the Tokyo Budokan.

“See, Sensei? I told ya I can still do this,” Ranko said, grinning as she jogged over to join her wife at the side of ring three.

Akane nodded. “It was just one match. Don’t get too cocky, okay?” She looked around, allowing herself a sly grin once she realized no one else she knew was around. “But you did kinda kick her butt.”

Ranko scoffed. “What’s this kinda shit? It was three to nothin’, Akane. How we doing otherwise?”

The young master in the black gi craned her neck to check the score display at the center of the arena. “Well, Shiori and Nori both lost their first matches, which we kind of expected, but Satoru lost a close one, too. Daichi and Hideki advanced, though, and Juro’s getting ready now on ring one.”

“Nice! We’ve still got our best fighters up in all three categories, then. Lookin’ good, sensei!” Ranko grinned. “And I’m still in good shape for that bet I made.”

Akane rolled her eyes, managing a laugh. “I don’t know that I’d call getting out of the dishes if you win the tournament a high-stakes wager, goofball.”

“It’s all the dishes for two weeks! That’s nothin’ to sneeze at!” Ranko giggled, giving her lover a playful jab in the arm. “Have you seen any of our family?”

The black-haired girl pointed to a first-level section on the near side of the arena. “Ma Shimizu’s up there somewhere. I ran into her earlier. Haven’t seen Mom or any of your sisters yet, though. I’m sure they’re around, though.”

Ranko blushed, smiling brightly. My mom saw me win a fight. I waited sixteen fucking years to be able to say that.

“Oi! Ranko!”

The redhead looked up. “Speak of the devil!”

Akane waved up to Izumi as she addressed her wife. “You go say hey; I’m gonna go check in on Juro.”

“Yes, sensei,” Ranko acknowledged with a chuckle. She jogged slowly over to the foam barricade separating the combatant arena from the bottom row of the bleachers, waving to Izumi as she approached. In her black Ranko and the Dapper Dragons tee shirt, her sister was fairly easy to spot. “Izzi! Did you see the fight?”

The brunette smiled proudly, giving her little sister a nod. “Are you kidding? That girl’s still over there looking for the rest of her ass. Great job!”

“See,” Ranko said with a prideful smile, holding one hand under her chin and one to the side of one of her cheeks, her thumbs stuck out to form corners as if holding a picture frame around herself. “Not just a pretty face!” She pulled her hair down from her ponytail, re-tying it where it had started to come loose during her previous match. “Where’s everybody else?”

Izumi frowned. “Sorry, hon. It’s just me and Hoshi today. He’s hanging out up there with Nodoka. Yui…” She sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping. “Her and Sakura finally broke it off on the phone this morning. With both of them working so much, they just can’t ever seem to make the trip to see each other, and so it was mutual, but Yui’s a mess, and Mei stayed home with her to try and keep her out of a bottle.”

The younger sister nodded softly, biting her lip as her own shoulders went slack. “That really fucking sucks. I’m really worried about her, Iz. She ain’t been right since Sakura left town, and it’s only gonna get worse now.” Ranko looked up at the sound of cheering, pumping her fist in a muted celebration as the scoreboard updated with the results from ring one, reflecting that Juro Nakahara had just secured another victory for the Tendo School of Anything-Goes Martial Arts. “Is Mom heading over there? If anybody’s got experience shakin’ us girls out of the worst of it…”

The brunette smiled weakly. “Mama’s… probably halfway to Yoko by now. She rode out just before I left to come here. Kage called, and… well, it seems like we have ourselves a new nephew.”

“No shit?! That’s great! But I thought Aya and Mom still weren’t talking.” Ranko sighed sadly, remembering the thoroughly depressing Christmas gathering at Hana’s apartment, which had been missing two of her four sisters.

Izumi bobbed her head softly, offering Ranko a pea chip from the open bag in her hand. “I guess Mama figured she had to try. But yeah, Kage said little Jun’s doing great, Aya too.”

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“Akane Tendo! Ah, it does this noble samurai’s heart good to see you well! Are you competing in the tournament this day?”

Akane groaned, drooping her head until her face fell into her hand. Oh, hell. Not him. She turned, shaking her head. “Nope, can’t say as I am. My dojo is, though.”

Tatewaki Kuno nodded, tightening the black cloth belt around his silver kendo uniform. “I am glad, for it would pain me greatly to have to face you in combat. As yet, the Ginza Academy Kendo Club is undefeated, no doubt due to the expert mentorship they have received from yours truly.”

“So, you’re here as a sensei, too, then,” Akane asked hopefully.

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“I am afraid not; that honor falls to Master Yoshikiro. I am competing in the master tier, though thus far there has been little competition of which to speak. I have no doubt that any disciple of yours will prove a far more formidable challenger, however.”

Oh, fuck. I gotta warn Ranko, Akane thought with a cringe. I don’t want her fighting him again. Maybe he’ll get knocked out before they get matched up. The young sensei bit her lip, wishing she didn’t have the thought she did. Or, she will. Man, I feel like the world’s biggest jerk saying I’d rather her lose than have to face him again, but… she almost died last time.

The young man slipped his wooden shinai into his belt, freeing his hands. “Dark though my days have been since the fair Ranko bested me in challenge and forbade me to date with you, I hope you have been well. Has anyone else been so fortunate as to claim the heart of the incomparable Akane Tendo, if it be not too knave of me to ask?”

Akane grinned darkly. Oh, buddy, if you only knew. You’d bleed out through your nostrils right here if you knew half the things I do to your precious little pigtailed girl. Better not say anything, though. I know Ranko outed herself to him before, but I don’t want to give him any more details without talking to her first.

“Oh, yeah, I am. Thank you for asking. I’m really happy, actually.” Please don’t ask. Please don’t ask.

“And your cousin Ranko,” Kuno prodded hopefully.

And, fuck. “Sister, actually. My father adopted her last year, after her own father… died.” Akane frowned at the thought of Ranko’s biological father, who no one she knew had heard from since she had maimed his hand on the morning of her wedding with Ranko’s ancestral katana. I mean, I guess he could’ve bled to death. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.

Kuno nodded sadly. “A decent and honorable thing for your father to have done. He is a good man, and it brings a smile to this warrior’s heart to know she is well cared for. Please extend my deepest condolences to fair Ranko on her loss.”

Akane scoffed, but a sinister smirk crept across her lips. “Oh, I wouldn’t say she’s too broken up over it.” I really shouldn’t volunteer anything, but it’s too much fun. I can’t help it. “After all, it was him that saddled her with Ranma in the first place.”

Kuno nodded with a bit of a scoff. “Then, good riddance indeed.”

A sniveling, squeaky voice called to Kuno from behind him, and no more than waist-high. “Master, a thousand apologies, but your next match is starting soon.”

Rolling his eyes with a sigh of annoyance, he whirled, fury in his eyes. “Silence, wretched Sasuke! Can you not see I am speaking with Akane Tendo?!”

Akane perked up at the sound of an announcement for the next match over the building’s loudspeakers, which not a week ago had announced her wife as the winner of the Japan Record Award for Best Album by a New Artist. “Listen, that’s one of my students competing. I should go anyway. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

The young swordsman nodded. “Would that I should be so blessed, Akane Tendo. Fare thee well.”

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“Alright, Toshi. Listen. You’re way stronger than this dude, but in tournament rules, that’s not as big a benefit. You only get one point a hit, no matter how hard you hit him. So, stop trying to go for the big swing, and just make contact, okay? It’s about being fast.”

Akane’s burly disciple nodded. “Yes, sensei, but… he’s so much quicker than me. How am I supposed to…”

Ranko raised a hand, two fingers extended. I don’t wanna contradict Akane, but…

“Ran-chan, did you have something?” Akane smiled. “You don’t have to raise your hand, ya know. It’s not English class.”

The redhead nodded. “Thanks, sensei. So, Toshiaki, here’s the deal. You need to think outside the lines a little. The crazy thing about fast people is they slow down awfully quick if they can’t breathe. Give him a good shot in the chest, and it’ll gas him hard. That’s your window.”

“But…” The large boy shrugged in exasperation. “I can’t get close enough. He’ll just hit me.”

Ranko ducked, holding up a forearm in front of her lowered head by way of example. “Get small, and drive your shoulder through him. He won’t be able to reach anything that counts for a point.”

“Ranko,” Akane said, resting her hand on her lover’s shoulder through her purple gi. “Shoulder strikes don’t score. Just hands, feet, elbows and knees.”

“It doesn’t have to score, Akane. It just has to slow the guy down long enough for another hit that can. What do you think?” Ranko smiled up at the two hopefully.

Akane nodded. “If you think you can do it, Toshi, go for it.” She looked up at the official, who was motioning for her fighter to return to his mark. “Go get him!”

Toshiaki returned to his line, bowing to the diminutive orange-haired boy in the green gi across ring two from him.

“Suzuki two, Arachi two. Next point wins.” The referee raised her arm between the two, dropping it with a one-word imperative. “Fight!” She had barely stepped aside before Toshiaki charged through the center of the ring, lowering his right shoulder and leveling his left arm in front of his head to prevent a strike to the head that would secure the match for Juto Arachi.

Toshi’s opponent rained several blows on his shoulders and forearms, but nothing that would count for a point. His attempt to strike rather than retreat proved costly, and the larger boy crashed hard into his chest like an American football linebacker, sending him sprawling to the mat. Toshi was knocked off balance by the obstacle in his path suddenly clearing, but leaned into the stumble, falling atop the smaller boy and dropping his elbow. It landed square in the Asakusa combatant’s belly, eliciting a loud groan and a cough.

“Point, Suzuki! Winner,” called the referee as Toshiaki clamored to his feet. The mountain of a young man turned and offered a hand down to his opponent, who accepted it and was pulled back to his feet.

“Good fight, man.” Toshi bowed respectfully, and received a shallow bow in return. Under normal circumstances, he might have been offended, but the poor kid was still trying to catch his breath. Toshi jogged back to Akane and Ranko, all smiles. “That was brilliant!”

Akane clapped loudly for her top disciple - as she considered Ranko a student in name only - as he approached. “That’s the way, Toshi! Great, great fight!” Ranko offered him a high-five as he passed.

“Starting in five minutes in ring three, semifinal match one,” the public-address announcer called over the building’s speaker system. “Ranko Tendo, Tendo School of Anything-Goes Martial Arts, versus Tatsuya Mikino, Shibuya High School Judo Club.”

Ranko grinned at Akane, cracking her knuckles. “Oooh, this one’s gonna be fun.”