“I still can’t believe you guys are gonna make me do this.” Ranko sighed, fidgeting with her wedding ring in the back row of the long black utility vehicle. The contrast of her sparkly diamond solitaire against the skirt of her black dress intrigued her. Diamond in the rough, I suppose. She adjusted in her seat, the lace of her white tulle slip tormenting her thighs under her dress.
As she stared at it, her hand was enveloped in a larger one, and Ranko turned to her left to be greeted by Akane’s smile of reassurance. “I know. But you’re gonna be okay. Nothing bad’s gonna happen to you, I promise. We’ve made sure of it every way we can, beautiful.” As she spoke, the vehicle hit a bump in the road, coaxing a wooden rattling sound from the Shimizu ancestral katana as it shifted in its blue scabbard against the leg of Akane’s black gi pants.
“Besides,” Nabiki said, turning from her seat in front of Akane in the middle row to look behind her to Ranko. She wrapped her arm around Kasumi’s headrest to support herself as the six-seater vehicle bounced over another stone in the gravel road. “You don’t even know if he’ll show up. Guts aren’t exactly his strong suit.”
“Oh,” Ranko said in quiet resignation, turning away from her wife and sister and watching out the tinted window as the vehicle began slowly creeping up a hill in the little park in the Nerima town center. “He’ll show.”
Akane leaned to her right, wrapping her arms around Ranko’s waist and resting her head on her wife’s left shoulder. “He can’t hurt you, baby girl.” She reached up, adjusting the strand of pearls around her wife’s neck and moving the clasp back behind her, under her cascade of wavy red hair. It was simply styled, with two thin braids forming a rope to hold the rest of her hair back against the expectation of wind, held in place with a large black satin bow at the back of her head. She wore a pair of pearl earrings which she’d bought specifically for the occasion, to match the heirloom necklace she wore. Ranko’s makeup was perfect; her skill had clearly improved after nearly a month of preparing for nightly shows on her own. She’d spent nearly two hours on it - she wanted to look her best, and her best for this occasion meant she wanted to appear as feminine as possible. She would allow no crack in her effeminate identity big enough to be picked at.
“Your whole family’s with you, Ranko.” Even my mom, Akane thought as she smiled at the pearl necklace Kasumi had given her on the girls’ wedding day, just hours after the last time they’d seen the subject of her wife’s current dread. Hours after the last time Akane had drawn the weapon that rested against her left knee in defense of the woman she loved.
“And you know Kasumi will absolutely fuck somebody up if she has to,” Nabiki offered with a sneer and a chuckle. “I mean, she already killed the old freak.”
“Nabiki!” Kasumi turned to her sister with a gasp. “I did not! Be polite. It’s a solemn occasion.”
As the eldest of Soun Tendo’s four daughters admonished her sister, the vehicle ground to a stop on a relatively steep incline. The crunch of the gravel road under the tires sounded not unlike the grinding Ranko felt in her teeth as she looked out her window, sighing resolutely. She could make out seven figures clad in white gi milling about near a meter-high black obelisk that had been erected on the hilltop under the shade of a cherry blossom tree. Whether or not others were present, she could not see from her current angle.
“We’re here,” Soun said from the front passenger seat, turning in his seat and opening his door. He stepped carefully out into the grass and the early afternoon sun, protecting the small black urn he cradled in his hands.
Nabiki’s door opened from the outside, and the driver stepped out of the way to permit her to exit the vehicle. She stepped out, taking a moment to ensure her heels had adequate purchase in the grass before putting her weight on her leg and rising. She wore a black blazer and matching slacks, so she had no difficulty getting out of the utility vehicle, but the driver reached in to offer a hand to Kasumi, whose long ebon kimono posed a challenge for her dexterity.
Once the two elder girls were out of the vehicle, Akane’s door opened, again from the outside, and the enormous man stepped clear to permit her to exit the vehicle. Akane stood, taking a step forward to clear space for her wife as she strapped the blue scabbard across the chest of her black master’s gi and slung the Shimizu ancestral katana over her back.
Again, the driver stepped inward, offering his hand into the vehicle to support its final occupant. Ranko took his hand, and he could feel her fingers shaking in his palm as she slipped on her dark sunglasses and exited the vehicle on her chunky heels. Unlike Nabiki, the lifelong martial artist and expert gymnast and dancer had no trouble navigating the loose gravel in her fancy shoes.
Ranko summoned a small smile, clasping her hand on the arm of the dark-skinned bald American that had helped her to her feet. He wore a black suit over a crisp white shirt and a long, skinny black tie, as well as a pair of dark sunglasses of his own. The giant man gave her a quiet nod and a bit of a reassuring grin in return.
“Thanks, Lance,” Ranko whispered in English as he pushed the car door closed behind her.
“Don’t you sweat a thing,” Lance Riker replied under his breath, his eyes brightening a bit. “I got your back, girl.” While her roadie-turned-bodyguard had been briefed that Ranko’s biological father would likely be present and that she considered him a threat if so, he did not know the details of exactly why there was bad blood between the two. It didn’t especially matter to him. If his friend was worried about something, he would ensure she didn’t have to be.
“You always do, buddy,” Ranko said appreciatively, offering him a more sincere smile and a little bit of a blush. She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Akane’s right bicep as the family ascended the hill with Lance behind them. The military veteran’s eyes tactically scanned the hillside as they ascended, and he quickened his pace until he was caught up with the younger girls, walking within arm’s reach to Ranko’s right as she matched Akane’s gait on her left.
Akane felt the woman on her arm’s body go rigid mid-step, and she looked up, the hilltop coming into clearer view as they reached its apex. She knew without looking what she would see, but she had maintained a sliver of hope that she’d be wrong.
“Breathe, Ranko,” she implored herself under her breath. “He won’t touch you. I swear it.” As Genma Saotome made eye contact with her, Akane adjusted the weight of the katana strapped across her back, ensuring he saw the afternoon sun glinting off of the weapon that had maimed his left hand as it rode on the back of the woman who had swung it.
Ranko fidgeted under her birth father’s gaze. She wore a conservative black dress that came down just past her knees, but she felt naked as he looked her over. Remember the plan, Ranko, she begged herself. You’re not better than everyone. Just better than him. Stay strong.
“Saotome,” Soun said in terse greeting, approaching him with the remains of their former master cradled in his hands. Genma wore a cheap black suit over a stiff red dress shirt, the whole outfit rumpled and ill-fitting, as if he’d bought it that morning in one of those second-hand clothes stores Akane had introduced Ranko to. He’d omitted his trademark kerchief, and the afternoon sun glared off of his pale bald scalp. His wire-frame glasses bore several deep scratches in the lenses. A few meters away, Master Chingensai stood staring at the empty crypt at the base of a black obsidian obelisk.
“Sensei,” offered Satoru Tashiro with a deep bow, and Akane’s six other students joined the couple offering greetings of their own as well. Each wore a white gi. While none of them had ever met Happosai, Akane had asked them to come. It was fitting, she thought, for everyone who had ever practiced Anything-Goes Martial Arts to come and pay respect to its founder, even though she wished one of his two original disciples had neglected to show.
Beyond that, however untrained her students were compared to Genma Saotome, asking them to come meant seven more pairs of eyes keeping watch over her terrified wife. She’d also instructed them to wear their gi as she did, as in Akane’s mind, their presence was more about respecting the art than respecting the man. She couldn’t fault Ranko for her reasoning when she’d decided to wear a dress instead, though, even if she didn’t agree with the underlying sentiment. Ranko had even suggested a kimono, but they’d not had time to shop for one. Besides, Akane thought, having them dressed for a fight puts Saotome on notice. There’s a whole-ass army at Ranko’s back today, plus me, Dad and Lance. Just let him try something.
Ranko sighed gently as Shiori Nagata reached out, pulling her into a hug. “You okay, Ran-chan? Is that him?” Shiori glared over Ranko’s shoulder at the bald man talking with Ranko’s father, feeling the redhead’s chin bobbing in a nod against her chest.
“Don’t even worry about him,” Shiori encouraged, releasing Ranko from the hug. “He ain’t so bad. I can take him.” She grinned disarmingly. “How’s your mom holding up?”
The redhead managed a thin smile. “Doing a lot better. They’re gonna let her come home from the hospital tomorrow.”
“That’s great!” Shiori grinned, clapping Ranko on the shoulder. “I knew she’d get through it. She’s tough as nails, just like her daughter.”
“Pretty sure she was doing it before I was,” Ranko said with a blush.
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Genma glowered at his child as she stood between Akane and a brunette he didn’t recognize. Ranko had kept her back to him almost the entire time. “I didn’t expect to see him here.”
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Soun sighed. “Leave her be, Saotome. Please. This isn’t the time or place for confrontation. She’s not here for you, and you’re not here for her.”
Genma sighed heavily, glancing down at the obsidian plinth that bore Happosai’s name, and the empty vault beneath it that awaited the jet-black container in his best friend’s hands. “Nobody’s here for me, Tendo. Not anymore.”
“You did that to yourself, old friend,” Soun said sorrowfully. “Turning your back was a choice you made. A choice you continue to make.” He motioned with his head to the black leather glove concealing Genma’s maimed left hand. “How many more pieces of yourself are you going to leave behind before you start asking yourself why?”
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“Sir, I'm going to need to ask you to step back.” Lance towered over the aging martial artist, his voice soft but firm.
“But that's my…”
Genma started to step forward, but the mountain of a man blocked his path. “I'm not going to ask you again, sir. Keep your distance from Mrs. Tendo.”
Oh, so we are going by Mrs. Tendo now? Gods, Ranma. Who even are you anymore?
Less than a meter away, Ranko bristled. The funeral rites had been performed, with Happosai’s cremains sealed into the small concrete vault at the top of the hill under a lone cherry blossom tree, overlooking Furinkan High School to the north and the city park to the south.
“It's okay, Ranko,” Akane pleaded under her breath, patting her wife reassuringly on the arm. “Ignore him. Let Lance handle it.”
“You won't even talk to me now?!” Genma shouted past Lance, and Akane stiffened, releasing Ranko's arm. She wanted to be ready to draw the sword on her back at a moment's notice.
“Leave her be, Saotome! You've hurt her enough!” Akane whirled on her heel, stomping her foot in the grass. “Why do you have to be so cruel?!”
“What do you want,” Ranko spat at the man she once called father, resting her hand on Akane’s shoulder. She felt safe, surrounded as she was Akane and Lance as her real father and Akane's seven students looked on as well. There is no one on this hill who wouldn't fight for me. Not even Kasumi and Tofu. Everyone is behind me, and you have no one. You can't hurt me anymore.
She flashed Genma a confident sneer, hoping it masked her trepidation. Yumeko said the expectation is for celebrities to be stuck-up bitches. Well, I guess it's time to lean in, she mused. She glanced up at Lance, giving him a little nod. “I suppose I can talk to him for a minute. Just stay close, please, Lance.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lance said formally, shooting Genma a threatening glare of warning before taking a few steps back.
Ranko looked up at Akane, but her wife shook her head vigorously. “Oh, there's no chance in hell I'm leaving you alone with him. Don’t even ask.”
“He really loved it here,” Genma said, looking out wistfully over the hillside. “Tendo picked a good place to lay him to rest. He used to come up here to meditate in the mornings, you know.”
Ranko scoffed. “Is that what he called it? He came up here in the morning because you can see the field where the Furinkan cheerleaders practice! He wasn't meditating, unless you count dreaming about girls’ tits and asses.”
“I’m surprised to see you all in gi,” Genma said to Akane icily as he waved off Ranko’s assertion with his gloved left hand. “It doesn't seem very appropriate for a funeral.”
Akane scoffed. “We are here as martial artists, to pay respect to the art. No decent person could respect the man himself. Even you couldn't most days; you were just too chickenshit to admit it and stand up to him.”
Genma rolled his eyes. He inhaled to rebut Akane’s insult, but his eyes fell on his ex-wife’s katana and he thought better of it. “Then if you're all here as martial artists…” His gaze turned to Ranko.
The redhead wrapped her arms around Akane’s left bicep, flashing her brightest stage simper as she looked up at her lover. “Oh, me? I'm not a martial artist. Not anymore. I'm a singer. I'm only here as Master Tendo’s dutiful and supportive wife.” Ranko leaned in, giving Akane a gentle kiss on her cheek. “As is appropriate for a young lady like me.”
“Oh, don't feed me that bullshit, b…” Genma’s voice trailed off as Akane reached over her shoulder with her right hand, wrapping her fingers around the gilded blue hilt of the sword at her back.
“Don't you dare finish that word,” Akane growled. “So help me gods, if you hurt her - if you say one fucking word that is anything but respectful to my wife - I'll finish what I started on our wedding day. I’ll drop you right where you stand, put your ass in a hole right here next to the old freak, and then I'll go home and have a piece of pie.”
Genma stepped back, and Ranko sneered at him. “I know, right? I married a fucking badass, and that's why she's the master of Anything-Goes Martial Arts.” She grinned up at Akane again. “Come to think of it, this guy kinda reminds me of that loser you won that dojo challenge against a while back.” She wagged her finger in the air as if coming to a sudden realization. “I thought there was something familiar about him!” Ranko flashed a dark, toothy grin under her sunglasses as she watched the old man wince at her words.
The old man stepped forward, and Akane sidestepped between him and Ranko, blocking him with her body. “Oh, no you don’t. Don’t even try to touch her.”
“Still hiding behind others, I see, Ran…”
Ranko put up her hand before he could finish deadnaming her, snickering loudly. “I don’t have to fight anymore. I’ve outgrown it. I’ve outgrown you. I guess I can't blame you for being surprised, though. You wouldn’t know what it looks like when someone stands up for the people they love. You’ve never seen it, and you’ve damn sure never done it, Genma.”
The diminished martial artist sighed, shaking his head in dismay. “I suppose I don't even rate being called old man anymore?”
Ranko flipped her hair over her shoulder, resetting it after a breezy gust ripped through the park. “You killed your son. You don't deserve a daughter. But, as for me? I am the youngest of Mayor Soun Tendo’s four daughters, and I’m damned proud to finally have a man among men that I can call father after all these years.”
“Because of this… whatever this is, with you two? We all know there's nothing binding between you. There can't be, not so long as you look like that.” Genma gestured to Ranko’s dress, but the young woman was relatively certain he meant the body under it. “You're still mine.” His words sounded more like a desperate plea than a statement of fact.
“Might wanna check those family registries again, Saotome,” Akane spat. “A lot has happened while you were out in the woods licking your wounds like an animal.”
“Why?” Ranko asked quietly, and there was a tremble in her voice that drew Akane's attention. “Why do you insist on trying to make me miserable? What does it get you? Does it make you feel good, trying to hurt me? Because you can't. Not anymore. I have a career and a family, and friends, and a college scholarship, and millions of fans, and you're gonna go back to chasing squirrels for dinner tonight. I have everything I want, and you have nothing and no one, and you especially don't have me. I've changed, for the better, and I'm starting to realize that you aren't upset because you don't like who I became. You're pissed because you can’t keep up. Because I've learned enough about how to live that I don't have to buy into your bullshit anymore. It took a lot of work from a lot of people who love me a lot more than you ever did, but I've learned better. I won't apologize for it. I’m not a freak. I'm exactly who I'm supposed to be, no thanks to you.”
Ranko turned, flashing Akane an exaggerated smile. “We should get out of here. I promised Daddy I’d make lunch for everyone when we got back to the house.”
Akane grinned, picking up Ranko's intent. “I mean, he does love your cooking, princess. We all do.”
Genma's growling stomach drowned out any protest he might have made as his child turned to the mammoth man standing a few meters away, waving dismissively over her shoulder as she flipped her hair behind herself. “Lance? I'm finished with him. Let’s go home.”
“You heard her,” Lance commanded, stepping between the young woman and the old man. “Have a nice day,” he said in a mockingly cheerful voice that made his true feelings clear. He turned his back on Genma, shadowing Ranko as she took Akane's hand and the pair headed for the black SUV waiting at the bottom of the hill.
“I'm so proud of you,” Akane whispered as they walked, squeezing Ranko’s hand tightly. “I love you, Ranko Tendo.”
Ranko smiled softly. “I love you too. And, you know what? I'm proud of me, too.”
“Are you girls about ready,” Soun asked, leaning on the side of the vehicle. His eyes met Ranko’s, and he gestured to the hilltop. “I saw you two talking. Is everything alright?”
Ranko beamed, wrapping her arms around Soun’s neck. She wasn't normally physically affectionate like that with him, but especially in that moment, her gratitude and love for him knew no bounds. Blushing at the very thought that she felt inclined to do so, she raised herself up on her tiptoes in her black heels, planting a tentative kiss on Soun's right cheek. “Couldn't be better, Daddy.”
Genma could only glare as the beautiful young redhead in the black dress was engulfed in her father's loving embrace.