Chapter Text
A long time ago, in a land that would one day come to be known as Nyuchiezu, two women sat in a small house that was one of many in the burgeoning village. For one of them, that house was her home and decorated as befit a seasoned warrior, with trophies from her many victories gleaming in gold and jewelry on her shelves and various swords, spears, and shields hanging from the walls or mounted on stands. The warrior herself, Sa Ran, raised one flaming red eyebrow at her guest.
In contrast to Sa Ran’s pale skin, her guest had soft, sun-warmed skin. Her black hair contrasted with Sa Ran’s almost as much as her deep brown eyes contrasted Sa Ran’s bright blues. And while the foreign girl had a certain fit tone to her body that suggested she was no stranger to physical labor, she was slim and petite, quite different from Sa Ran’s own curvaceous form and whipcord musculature.
Sa Ran’s eyes darted over to the bottle sitting on her tea table next to her guest’s tea. The woman had not yet explained what brought her here with the item, but Sa Ran found the bottle… unsettling. All people had five senses: sight, hearing, smell, touch, and taste. Warriors such as Sa Ran were often said to develop a sixth sense to warn them of danger or impending attack. Sa Ran certainly thought so, and the otherworldly chill that traveled down her spine as she contemplated the bottle warned her that doom was at hand.
Her guest sipped the steaming cup of white tea Sa Ran had served her. “Thank you for agreeing to see me,” she said in Sa Ran’s language. Her accent was thick but not incomprehensible.
“You speak our language well, foreigner,” Sa Ran said, inclining her head as she sipped her own tea. “And you are very polite. That is why I agreed to this meeting. What is your name?”
“Aaliyah,” the foreign woman replied. “May I know yours?”
“Sa Ran, though many these days would call me ‘Hero.’” Sa Ran gave a bitter chuckle. “Win a few wars and those who have never even seen battle start to get funny notions about you.”
“It is the title of ‘Hero’ that brought me to you,” Aaliyah admitted. “I need a hero, because ordinary warriors and travelers are useless, and greedy kings and emperors would be the downfall of us all.”
“Related to this bottle, I assume?” Aaliyah nodded, her own eyes darting over to the bottle. “And what is so dangerous about a bottle?”
Aaliyah drained her cup of tea, setting it down and politely waving off Sa Ran’s offer to pour another. “I have traveled a long way to keep this from the hands of viziers and sultans who would misuse its power,” she said. “Those are the names for those who lead in my culture. Tell me, are your people familiar with the term ‘djinni?’”
Sa Ran frowned slightly. “We are not. Another word from your culture, I assume?”
“It is what we call them. Djinni are capricious, even malicious, wind spirits. In our history, they have caused much destruction, both from their own whims and to have their revenge on foolish people who would trap them to harness their power.” Aaliyah motioned to the bottle. “One such djinni, a very powerful one, is trapped in this bottle. He was unearthed in the Sultan’s court three days before my journey began.”
“What happened?”
“The Sultan made some very greedy wishes, and when the djinni was unleashed by the third wish, he rained destruction upon the land. There were twenty thousand people who lived in the city I hailed from.” Aaliyah’s hands moved to her knees, tightly gripping them.
Sa Ran’s eyebrow climbed her forehead again. “Were?”
“By the time we had bottled the monster up again, there were only about seven hundred of us left,” Aaliyah admitted, her head tilting forward and eyes closing. “I expect by the time I arrived here, half of them had also expired from their injuries. Half again will likely be gone by the time of my return, including my husband.”
“A slaughter,” Sa Ran said quietly. “You have my sympathies. We see such things here when some madwoman thinks to seize and centralize power. It is… how I am named ‘Hero’ now. But what was that about wishes?”
Aaliyah took a deep breath, her sorrow fading behind a mask of duty. Despite the foreign woman’s best efforts, Sa Ran still saw several cracks in the facade Aaliyah wore. “When freed from his bottle, a djinni will often offer wishes of gratitude. Sometimes, they are compelled, as the wisher is expected to use a wish to seal him back into the bottle,” she explained. “The Sultan was not so wise.”
“Then it is good that you bring this to me and not those fools in the Imperial City, or your djinni would raze this land as he did yours,” Sa Ran decided, nodding firmly.
A faint smile, the first Sa Ran had seen, began to form on Aaliyah’s face. “That is what I wished to prevent,” she said. “I am hopeful… desperate… that you will have some means of dispelling this… this fiend. Some way of defeating him forever. That’s what heroes do, is it not?”
Sa Ran thought about the request for a moment. She set her tea, now cold, back on the table and closed her eyes in contemplation. As she had done thousands of times before, she brought her hands up, fingertips pressing together in front of her chest in a meditative posture. She took a deep breath, centering her thoughts. After a long moment, she knew what she had to do. Her eyes opened, her expression cold but resolute, and she spoke.
“There is a way.”
Aaliyah clutched with one hand at the cloak Sa Ran had lent her, shivering. Her other hand held tightly to the djinni bottle. Sa Ran hardly blamed her—even in the hottest summers, the chill surrounding the “Pools of Sorrow” persisted. Even Sa Ran herself, a veteran of two bloody wars, was not immune to feeling the cold in her bones as she looked at the numerous springs spread before her. Each spring, filled to just under the brim and with one or two bamboo poles towering high above any visitors, contained a tragic story. Some of those stories had been written.
Some, like the spring she stood in front of with Aaliyah, had yet to be written.
“What is this horrible place?” Aaliyah asked.
“It is known by many names,” Sa Ran replied. “The most famous is ‘Jusenkyo,’ the Pools of Sorrow. It is so named because of all the poor creatures that have come here and died in these waters.” She pointed at a far spring. “Spring of drowned woman.” She pointed to another. “Spring of drowned panda.” Another spring was indicated. “Spring of drowned black piglet. The cursed springs transform any who fall into their waters. Only hot water can relieve the curse, and only until they encounter cold water again.”
“What a terrible place,” Aaliyah murmured. “Is a nereid responsible for this abominable collection of pools?”
“I don’t know what a nereid is,” Sa Ran admitted. “But nobody quite knows the origin of Jusenkyo’s curse. We normally stay far away from it unless necessary.”
“And what spring is this?” Aaliyah asked, looking down at the spring at her feet.
“This is a spring in which nobody has drowned,” Sa Ran said, casting her own cloak aside and letting the wind carry it away. Aaliyah gasped, stepping back from the dramatic gesture, and the red-haired warrior woman held a hand out. “It will be my spring. And I will take the djinni with me.”
“What?” Aaliyah asked, eyes wide as she clutched at the bottle. “No, I can’t ask you to…!”
“You haven’t, and you won’t,” Sa Ran said. “My daughters will carry on my name, and their sons and daughters after them. But I take this burden freely, and will carry the vengeful djinni with me into the depths of Jusenkyo’s embrace.” She took the bottle from Aaliyah’s unresisting fingers, holding it tightly to her bosom. “We shall go together.”
“Sa Ran,” Aaliyah murmured, eyes glimmering with tears. “So many have already died to stop this monster…”
“Then what is one more?” Sa Ran asked. “This is an act worthy of a Hero. All I ask… is that you tell the guide.” She motioned with her free hand to a shack on the far side of the pools. “Tell him the tragic tale of the spring of drowned hero.”
“I will,” Aaliyah promised, closing her eyes and allowing her tears to pour down her cheeks. “And when I return home, I will tell the survivors of my people of your heroic bravery.”
Sa Ran took a step backward, closer to the spring, and smiled at Aaliyah. “Farewell, Aaliyah. It was an honor to meet one so devoted to saving her people.” With her last words, Sa Ran took another step backward… and fell. The icy chill of the water sunk into her bones as she landed in the spring, sinking deep into it. Immediately, her lungs began to burn for air.
Let me free! a man’s voice, deep and booming, echoed in her mind. Remove the cork from this accursed bottle and I can save us both!
The only thing I wish to be saved from is beyond even your power, spirit! Sa Ran thought back defiantly. We go together into the blackness!
Cursed mortal treachery! You will pay! the booming voice promised, but his words echoed hollowly.
Blackness encroached at the edges of her vision, and her lungs demanded to be filled. Smiling bitterly, she opened her mouth to allow the water of the spring in. The pain in her chest increased a hundredfold as water poured into her lungs, and her back hit the muddy bottom of the spring. As the fatigue of her death began to weigh on her limbs, Sa Ran finally uncorked the djinni’s cursed bottle, closing her mouth over it. Join me in death, accursed wind spirit, she swore to it.
And then she knew no more.
One thousand years later…
“Welcome to Jusenkyo, honored customers!” the portly man in the drab green uniform of the People’s Liberation Army of China said, sweeping his arm grandiosely at the valley of springs. “You must be very well informed to come to this place! It’s a very special training ground!”
Yeah, special, Ranma Saotome, age 15, thought dismissively and ignored the chill that seemed to surround the pools. He saw his father begin to shrug off his traveler’s pack and decided to do the same. While he was not quite so barrel-chested as his old man, Ranma felt that his advantage in speed and flexibility made up for the lack of raw power that Genma Saotome could put forth. As a trade off, while his father had to cover his bald head with a white bandana, Ranma still had a full head of ink-black hair that he kept tied back into a loose rattail.
“Let’s go, Ranma!” Genma yelled, interrupting the guide before he could speak again and leaping up onto one of the poles. Ranma shouted his own acknowledgement, jumping up to join his old man.
“Oh, no, customers, please, come down from there!” the portly guide yelled, waving his arms frantically but not approaching the springs. “It’s very dangerous, you don’t understand!”
In typical fashion, Ranma’s father dismissed the uniformed man, leaping forward to the attack. Ranma sprung off of the pole he was on to meet his father in mid-air, exchanging a furious series of blows. Fists and feet attempted to find their marks and were deflected, until…
“An opening!” Ranma called out, his foot swinging in an arc to strike his father’s exposed back. While Ranma landed on a pole, Genma plummeted into a spring with a tremendous splash. Take that, old man! the ponytailed boy thought smugly.
The splash as something emerged from the spring was too large even for his father, and Ranma gaped as a black and white panda bear alighted on the bamboo pole like he was standing on solid ground. Hanging from their wire around one ear was Genma’s glasses, and Ranma wondered at the implication.
“What—What the heck?! A panda?!” he exclaimed, recoiling back but holding his balance.
“Oh, this is terrible! The honored customer has fallen into the spring of drowned panda! There’s a very tragic tale of a panda that drowned in the spring two thousand years ago! Now, whatever falls into the spring takes on the body of a panda!” the guide exclaimed.
“You couldn’t say something sooner—?!” Ranma exclaimed but was cut off by the need to dodge. The panda’s paws swiped at him in the familiar sweeping strike of his father’s more aggressive style, and it spun in mid-air to kick in the same way Genma would, as well. “Crap, Pops, is that you, hang on!” the rattailed boy yelled, leaping over another strike and rebounding off of a bamboo pole. “Look at yourself, you idiot—!” he tried to say.
Unfortunately, Genma was not prone to self-reflection. Ranma knew this, as it had resulted in quite possibly the worst thing to have ever happened to him. There was, after all, a reason he could no longer be near cats. Today was no exception, as unheeding of the changes to his body, the panda lunged forward to knock Ranma off of the pole. For a brief moment, Ranma felt the weightlessness of freefall as he sailed through the air, and he screamed in genuine fear as he realized he was plummeting toward a spring. A brief, curious thought broke through the terror, and Ranma almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of wondering what he was about to turn into right before splashdown.
Heavy, so heavy! he thought as the icy cold of the springwater sank into his bones. His lungs burned for air as he tried to orient himself, and the light above him caught his attention. What also caught his attention, however, was the sudden roiling and bubbling in the spring, as if the water had begun to boil. The weight he felt lifted, and he felt his body change, yet the water was still cold. Suddenly, his head broke the surface and he gasped for air, but the top of the spring seemed further away than before. His back hit the muddy bottom of the spring and he looked around, amazed, seeing the water had all drained away.
His eyes drifted lower, toward himself, afraid of what he would see, and then bugged out. His chest was… bigger. He stood up unsteadily, his sense of balance thrown off by whatever changes occurred, and he shivered. Murmuring rapid-fire denials under his breath, he grabbed at the top of his gi, clenching it in his fists, and opened it up. To his absolute dismay, instead of the flat, rigid pectoral muscles he expected, he now looked down at a pair of very shapely, feminine breasts. His hands roamed down, realizing his waist now slimmed out slightly before widening into very feminine hips.
She looked up to the pool’s edge, where the Guide and the panda were staring down at her. Meeting the eyes of her transformed father, she screamed.
Nerima, Tokyo, early that fall…
Soun Tendo sat in the dining room of his home, kneeling at the table across from his three teenage daughters. Kasumi Tendo, his eldest, had inherited her mother’s light brown hair and pleasant demeanor, while Nabiki, his second daughter, had gotten her late mother’s cunning along with the hair color. Nabiki kept her hair short, almost like a bowl cut though chin-length, while Kasumi had a long ponytail draped over one shoulder. Nabiki was wearing a more “trendy” outfit with shorts and a T-shirt, while Kasumi wore a housedress and apron, having just come from the kitchen.
His youngest, Akane, took more after him in many ways. Her hair was lighter than his, being a shade of black that was almost ink-blue, and she had a slightly stockier, more muscular build than her older sisters owing to her rigid devotion to martial arts training. Of the three, Akane would be closest to being his pride and joy, as she had taken on the position of heir to his family school of martial arts. In fact, she was even still wearing her favorite yellow gi from practicing outside.
He cleared his throat, drawing himself out of his reverie, and laid the post card he had received on the table. His daughters glanced at it curiously, then looked up to him. It was a brief message from his friend, Genma Saotome, saying that he would be bringing his son, Ranma, to visit and honor their old agreement. “We’ll be receiving a visitor today,” he said to his daughters. “My friend, Genma, is coming with his son, Ranma. He is to be engaged to one of you.” As if to ominously punctuate his statement, thunder crashed outside, and the rain that he had been ignoring briefly intensified.
“Engaged?!” all three sisters yelled in response.
“Yes, that’s correct,” Soun continued on, undeterred. “Genma and I made a solemn vow before any of you were born that we would wed our children to carry on the legacy of Anything-Goes Martial Arts. To that end, he has been rigorously training the boy and they’ve even recently been through China.”
“Ooh, China,” Nabiki said, her eyes lighting up.
“Ooh, China,” Akane replied sarcastically. “Big deal.”
Thunder rumbled again before Kasumi spoke. “I hope he’s older than me. Younger men are so boring,” she said, toying with her ponytail. “Say…”
Soun blinked. “Hm?”
“What kind of guy is this Ranma, anyway?” all three girls said at once, leaning toward him.
“No clue,” Soun replied immediately.
“No clue?” Nabiki parroted back, an irritated expression forming on her face.
“I’ve never met the lad,” Soun said, matter-of-factly.
Nabiki sat back with a sigh of frustration, her palm coming up to rest on her face. “Dad, I can’t believe you haven’t even met the boy involved,” she muttered. “What if he turns out to be some kind of creep?”
“He’s a boy, of course he will,” Akane muttered sharply.
“Regardless, he’ll be arriving soon, so—” Soun was cut off by the sound of the front door unexpectedly opening, then slamming shut. “Could that be…? Saotome, my old friend?” he called out, standing up and dashing into the hallway. Nabiki, despite her reservations, jumped up to accompany him with an excited exclamation. As both turned the corner, however, they came face to belly with the unexpected sight of… a dripping-wet panda.
Both Soun and Nabiki chose the better part of valor, retreating to rejoin Akane and Kasumi who had come up behind them. Soun took a stance of almost protectiveness in front of his daughters, staring fearfully up at the panda that turned the corner.
“Dad, is that your friend?!” Nabiki yelled from behind him. Soun shook his head rapidly. “Then why’s it here?!” Again, Soun shook his head rapidly. “But isn’t it weird that there’s a panda here?!” Once more for good measure, Soun rapidly shook his head, his hair whipping back and forth.
With a heaving sigh, the panda held up a sign. My name is Genma Saotome, the sign read. It then flipped over, showing more writing on the back. May I please have some hot water?
“So polite,” Kasumi murmured. “Would… would a kettle be alright?” she suggested. The panda, Genma, nodded, lowering its sign. “I’ll be right back. Why… why not have a seat at the table?”
“Really, sis?” Akane asked incredulously.
“Just because our guest is a panda is no reason to be rude, Akane,” Kasumi chided her, turning to head into the kitchen. As if emboldened by her reaction to the absurdity, Soun led his other two daughters back to the dining table to sit down, while the panda also sat down opposite them.
To their surprise, it unshouldered a pair of backpacks that it carefully set down. It then opened one of them, reaching in. There was no sign of the sign it had previously held, and it instead set out a bottle that looked to be about a liter or a liter and a half in volume, made of beautifully polished green glass with a gold inlay. Soun stared in mystified wonder as what appeared to be a smoky substance swirled inside.
“That’s fancy,” Nabiki mused, reaching forward curiously. Genma, however, held up a sign to block her. “‘Please don’t touch it?’” she read, tilting her head but sitting back. “Well, now I want to touch it even more.”
I’ll explain everything, Genma’s next sign said. He flipped it around. I just want the hot water first.
“Where are those signs coming from?” Akane asked.
I’ll explain everything, the sign read again, though now it had except that appended.
“Here you are, Mr. Panda,” Kasumi said, coming from the kitchen with a polished brass kettle. She set a towel down on the table, then set the kettle atop it. “Careful, it is quite hot,” she advised.
The panda, nonetheless, picked up the kettle to immediately pour it over his head. Soun’s eyes bugged out, joined by his daughters’, as the panda almost seemed to melt and contort into the shape of a stocky older man with a white gi and bandana. “Ahh, that’s the stuff indeed,” the man said, setting the kettle back on the table with a slosh indicating that it was not quite emptied. “Well, Tendo, aren’t you going to introduce me to your family?” he said, grinning at Soun.
“Sao-Sao-Saotome?!” Soun shrieked. “How?! What happened?! Your son, where is he?!”
“I’ll explain my son in a moment, actually it’s rather part of the same story,” Genma explained. “It’s just so good to be human again, you’ve no idea.”
“What’s with the fancy bottle?” Nabiki asked.
“Again, all part of the same story,” Genma said, waving his hand to ward off the questions. “Tell me… Have you ever heard of the legend of Jusenkyo?”
“Spring of Drowned Hero?” Ranma asked, crossing her arms over her considerable chest. Her fingers clenched and unclenched, digging into her arms as she seethed. “I’m gonna need more than that to go off because I’m a girl right now if you hadn’t noticed!”
“Please, please, calm down,” the guide said placatingly, his hands held up as he backed away from the angry redhead. “It is an ancient story of Sa Ran, a hero of the tribe that would eventually form the village Nyuchiezu. She was an honored warrior of two fierce wars, and there is a very tragic story of how she drowned herself here twelve hundred years ago. A foreign woman brought a bottled wind spirit here in search of a hero, and Sa Ran drowned herself to contain the spirit in the spring with her!”
Ranma flinched slightly as the words seemed to ring like a bell through her. Inexorably, she turned, looking down into the now emptied spring. A glint of reflected light caught her eye, and she jumped down into the muddy bed. She reached down into the mud, grasping something solid underneath, and drew out a gleaming green bottle with gold inlays that gleamed as if freshly polished. Dangling from the neck by an unmarred string was a flawless cork that looked to be a perfect fit for the bottle.
“Bottled wind spirit,” she muttered. “Doesn’t seem like it’s bottled anymore.” She turned and leapt back out of the spring bed, holding the bottle out. “You mean this?”
The guide nodded, taking the bottle. “That’s right,” he said. “This is the bottle that contained the evil wind spirit, exactly as described by Aaliyah to my predecessor twelve hundred years ago.”
“Doesn’t seem to be containing anything now,” Ranma noted sourly.
“Which must mean that the wind spirit is loose!” the Guide said in horrified realization. “This is terrible! He will rain vengeance and death on the land!”
“Shouldn’t that have happened by now?” Ranma suggested, briefly forgetting her anger.
“Oh… huh. You’re right,” the guide replied, looking at the bottle. “He should have done so already if he were freed. Maybe it was just a legend after all?”
“In that case, back to beating the crap out of my old man for this,” Ranma said, rolling her sleeve up and turning. Instead of a panda, she saw the absence of a panda that was so sudden and smoothly executed that he may as well have left a blinking outline in his place. Her pupils contracted in fury as her fists clenched, wind beginning to swirl violently around her as she yelled out a single word, “Pops!”
“So, this is the true horror of Jusenkyo,” Soun murmured solemnly, ignoring the baffled looks of his daughters. “I’d heard the stories but to see the reality before my very eyes… Then, is Ranma absent because he was consumed by the wind spirit? Or was he too ashamed to show up in his female form?”
“Well,” Genma hedged, a hand at the back of his head. “Not exactly. But I suppose I should let him explain.”
“Then he is here?” Soun asked, blinking.
Rather than answer, Genma retrieved the bottle from the table, sliding back and setting it down on the tatami mat. Carefully, he pried and pulled at the cork before it popped free, dangling by the string around its neck and allowing the smoky substance within to immediately burst forth. The reddish smoke began to swirl, flashing as if lightning and thunder were erupting inside of it, until it stood as tall as a person. Inside of the smoke, a figure began to take shape.
She was only as tall as Akane, or possibly even a little shorter, but she was wearing much less than the youngest Tendo daughter—her buxom chest covered only by what could be generously called a bikini top in red that would have looked at home on a beach. Riding low on her hips was a pair of black silk pants that were nearly see-through, allowing a tantalizing peek at the legs within, and gold bracelets adorned her slender wrists. Her head was tilted back imperiously, blue eyes looking down her nose, and her flaming red hair was tied back in a loose ponytail. Her arms were crossed, emphasizing the trim, lean musculature in her biceps and taut abdominals, and in one hand, she held a sign.
“‘I wish that you’d kick your father’s ass?’” Nabiki read out loud, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, no,” Genma said, turning to scramble away from the redhead.
“Wish granted!” she chirped almost happily, turning swiftly and delivering a powerful kick to the older man’s backside that sent him flying into the stone-lined koi pond outside. “Oh, man, you have no idea how good that felt,” the redhead said, stretching her arms over her head and twisting her torso from side to side. “Or how good this feels, for that matter.” She turned back to the family, who were all staring at her in shock.
“Are you… could you possibly be…?” Soun stammered, pointing at her with wide eyes.
“Oh, I’m…” The redhead began toying with her ponytail. “Ranma Saotome… Sorry about this.”
Soun’s vision swam as he began to topple over backwards. He vaguely heard his daughters calling out to him in alarm before blissful unconsciousness took him away from the madness.
Ranma blinked as the old man with the bushy black mustache began to fall over, the girls around him calling out “Dad!” and catching him before he hit the floor. “I guess that was a bit much for him,” she said, rubbing at the back of her head.
A large, wet mass of panda trundled by, grabbing the kettle on the table and pouring it over himself, reverting back to the well-known figure of her father. She glowered at him, then glared at the kettle. “You didn’t save any for me?!” she demanded.
“We can get more, it’s just water,” Genma said. “Besides, I did, and then you kicked me into the pond.”
“You deserved it! Maybe you’d like to try being in that stupid bottle!” Ranma snapped back. “Do you have any idea how uncomfortable it is in there?”
“Wait a minute,” the helmet-haired brunette said from her father’s side. “That outfit… the bottle… and the wish… Are you a genie?!”
Ranma bit her tongue to keep from saying anything, her eyes wide as they darted back over to the three girls, who stared at her in awe. “I… uh… w-well…!”
“Indeed, that is the nature of the spring Ranma fell into,” Genma replied, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “The Spring of Drowned Hero, in which an ancient heroine of the Nyuchiezu drowned herself to contain a genie spirit that had been brought to her. As the essence of the two combined in the spring… Ranma now takes on the form of a fallen hero but with the powers of a genie.”
“What’s the catch?” the helmet-haired girl said, narrowing her eyes. “You granted me a wish that I didn’t really want, do I only get two more?”
“There’s no limit,” Ranma said automatically, her expression turning half-lidded as her voice shifted to an almost monotone. “I am compelled to grant wishes made around me without a limit to the number, only a limit to the type and scope of the wish.” She suddenly shook her head violently. “Gah, that’s worse than the stinking bottle!”
“Wait a minute,” the girl with the black hair said. “How did he even get you into the bottle?”
“The same way the genie got stuck in there the last time and the time before that,” Ranma said. “He wishes me into it.”
The girl recoiled in shock. “That’s awful! He can just wish you into the bottle whenever he wants?!” she asked.
“Yeah, and it sucks in there,” Ranma grumbled, crossing her arms again and glaring at her father. “The only time he can’t do it is when I’m in my normal form, because I don’t have the power or compulsion to grant wishes like that.”
“I’ll get you some hot water right away,” the brunette with the ponytail said, standing up and hurrying into the kitchen, pausing only to glare at Ranma’s father. “Shame on you, Mr. Saotome,” she said, the older man flinching as the girl ducked through the curtained doorway.
“Huh? Isn’t it as simple as, ‘I wish you were a boy?’” the helmet-haired girl asked.
“Wish granted,” Ranma replied, snapping her fingers. Immediately, she was replaced by a young man with black hair, wearing normal black silk trousers and a red tangzhuang shirt held closed with wood ties. The only sign of it still being Ranma was the pair of golden bracelets still on his wrist. The black haired boy sighed… and then the red-haired Ranma, once again wearing the genie outfit, returned. “But it doesn’t work that way,” she said.
“Wait, did you just… but you changed,” the black-haired girl said. “How did you change but then change back without water?”
“Any wishes are reverted when she’s no longer a genie,” the helmet-haired girl concluded. “Though I’d love to see how that plays out exactly…” She smiled at Ranma, though it was slightly shark-like. “I’m Nabiki Tendo. This is Akane. And our older sister getting you some hot water is Kasumi. Did you pick that outfit yourself?”
“No,” Ranma replied flatly. “And I didn’t even have it the first few times I changed. It wasn’t until Pops first bottled me that I got it. Any time I change back, I get my normal clothes again, even if I turn back into this body. But one trip into the bottle…”
Now it was Akane’s turn to glare at Genma. “I hope you’re not doing it just to put her in that outfit,” she accused.
“He’s my son!” Genma protested vehemently. “First of all, I’d like him to be a man at all times, not a genie! Second, I definitely don’t want to see him in some Arabian nights fetishwear!”
“Then why do it in the first place?” Nabiki asked.
“It’s more convenient, he can spend a week in the bottle and doesn’t need to eat, drink water, use the bathroom,” Genma listed off. “And I don’t have to listen to him whine and moan like a girl!”
Silence fell over the room as Nabiki, Akane, and Ranma glared at Genma. After a long moment, Nabiki spoke up. “Ranma, I wish to be as strong as my sister, Akane.”
Ranma snapped her fingers immediately and replied, “Wish granted.”
“Thank you.” Turning and grasping the dining room table with both hands, Nabiki effortlessly lifted it overhead.
“Oh—” Genma began right before being crushed under the table.
Ranma winced. “Now that he had coming,” she muttered.
“Here, Ranma,” Kasumi said, coming out of the kitchen with another slightly-steaming kettle. “How does this… Should I just…”
“I’ll take it, thank you,” Ranma said with a smile, taking the kettle and pouring it over her head. Instantly, her form shifted as she grew, stretching up into the black-haired boy from before. Unlike before, the golden bracelets were now replaced with studded leather bracers on his wrist, and the tangzhuang and black trousers replaced the genie outfit. “Oh, that’s so much better… Thank you.”
“Hey, not bad, kinda cute,” Nabiki said, bouncing her eyebrows as she looked Ranma over, her thumb and index finger forming something like a checkmark under her chin. “Yeah, I definitely like it. Girl you isn’t bad, but guy you…”
“Uh, thanks, I think?” Ranma chuckled nervously, stepping back.
“Hmph, so he really is a boy,” Akane muttered. “How disappointing.”
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Ranma asked, eyes narrowing.
“Just what I said,” Akane shot back. “I… hate men!”
“Akane,” Kasumi said reprovingly, and Akane flinched back from the tone. “That’s not nice. Why don’t you try to at least connect with Ranma as a martial artist in the dojo? Have a little spar before you write him off.”
“But, sis, I…” Whatever Akane’s protest was going to be died as she met her older sister’s gaze, and her face fell. “Alright… This way, Ranma.” She stood up and Ranma moved to follow, making a point of walking on the bottom of the dining room table and eliciting a groan of pain from his father underneath it.
An exterior walkway led from the house to the attached dojo, and Ranma gave a low whistle as he looked around. “Very nice,” he complimented. “Someone makes a lot of use of this place.” His gaze dropped back down to Akane’s curious expression and he glanced down at her gi. “Based on the outfit, I’m guessin’ that’s you.”
“That’s right. Is that a problem?” Akane asked.
“Heck, naw,” Ranma replied, rolling his shoulders. “I’ve been stuck in that bottle for a week and I’m cursed as basically the heir to a woman who dragged a genie down to Hell with her. I’m itching to stretch. I just hope you can keep up,” he said, grinning as he began to bounce on his heels in anticipation.
“Are you ready, then?” As she asked the question, Akane slid into a ready stance of her own.
“Whenever you are,” Ranma replied, his grin widening.
“Then here I come!” With a yell, Akane charged forward, swinging a fist at Ranma, who bobbed to the side. She swung again with her other fist and he weaved to the other side. As she stepped forward again, she lashed out with her foot in a sweeping arc, but he jumped up, his hands briefly resting on her shoulders before he landed behind her, his back pressed against hers.
“Hey, not bad,” Ranma quipped. “Another five years or so of training as hard as I did and you could probably catch up.” He leaned to the side and her fist blasted through the space previously occupied by his head. “It’s not that you’re bad. I’m just better.”
“Stop talking and fight back!” Akane yelled, jumping and swinging another kick at Ranma, who rolled under it. Quickly regaining his feet, he tapped at the small of her back with the back of his hand. As she attempted to backhand him in return, he ducked, tapping his knuckles against her midriff. Finally, as she tried to swing a wide punch, he stepped out of her arc, catching her wrist and raising his free hand. Lightly, he tapped the “blade” of his palm against the side of her neck, and she froze. Realization played across her face as the tension in her body relaxed. “I’m unconscious now, aren’t I?” she said.
“‘Fraid so,” Ranma said, releasing his hold on Akane and stepping back. He grinned, dropping into a ready stance again. “Best two out of three?”
Akane gave him a quizzical look. “No, that’s alright,” she said. “I think… I think I’m gonna go take a bath, if you don’t mind.” She began walking for the door, then stopped, looking over her shoulder. “You’re not like any boy I’ve ever met,” she said, then slid open the door and departed.
Ranma scratched at his cheek as she shut the door behind herself. “I wonder what she meant by that,” he mused.
“Oh, Ranma,” Nabiki said as the ponytailed boy approached from the dojo. “Akane’s taking a bath. You should probably get one yourself after she’s out. But do you mind if we experiment with something?”
“Experiment with what?” Ranma asked warily. His unease was not settled when she held up a glass of water and his bottle.
“Why, your wish-granting, of course,” she replied. “Don’t worry, I promise to not put you in the bottle. I only grabbed it to get it away from your father. Since you’ll change back anyway when you go to take your bath, and any wishes you grant will undo themselves, what’s the harm?”
“I… guess that’s fair,” Ranma said, warily taking the glass. “You promise you’re not gonna bottle me?”
“I swear, though, how does that work, anyway?” Nabiki asked. “Could someone else do it if I’m holding the bottle?”
Ranma dumped the glass of water over his head, immediately reverting back to his female form. Unlike the last time he had changed, she kept her original outfit, wearing the Chinese tangzhuang and trousers as well as her studded bracers. “No, thank God,” Ranma said with a shudder. “I grant wishes to whomever, but only the person holding my bottle can wish me back into it.”
“Got it,” Nabiki said. “Which means as long as I have it, you don’t have to worry about your dad doing it. Good to know.”
Ranma eyed the bottle suspiciously—and a bit nervously, if she were being honest with herself. “Yeah, but you could also do it any time you wanted,” she said, narrowing her eyes at the middle Tendo sister.
“Relax, I’ve already promised I won’t,” Nabiki replied. “Here, how about this—I wish for you to know if I meant my promise or not.”
Ranma blinked, snapping her fingers as she said “Wish granted.” Immediately, a sense of reassurance and honesty washed over her mind as she considered Nabiki’s promise. “Oh… Okay then,” she murmured, a bit surprised.
“There, see?” Nabiki said. “C’mon, let’s go to the living room so we can sit. Akane should be out of the bath soon so I want to get this done fast.” As she turned, she called over her shoulder in an almost saucy tone, “Oh, and I wish to know when and where you’re looking at me as I go.”
Ranma’s fingers snapped and she said, “Wish granted,” before the implications of Nabiki’s wish hit home. Immediately, the redhead’s face turned as red as her hair as her eyes briefly went down to the Tendo girl’s hips before darting up to the ceiling. The fact that she was forced to follow behind Nabiki’s wicked laughter only added fuel to the fires burning in her cheeks.
“Hope you liked that little glance you got,” Nabiki said as Ranma joined her in the living room. “Let me know if you want another look and maybe I’ll grant your wish for a change.” As Ranma sat down on the floor, keeping a wary distance from Nabiki, the Tendo girl sat on the couch, one shapely leg lifted and her arms around her calf. In one hand was Ranma’s bottle, though the genie-girl was suddenly more nervous of the girl holding it than the bottle itself. “Now, let’s see…”
Ranma watched warily as Nabiki’s free hand picked up the remote and turned on the family television. “We’re gonna use my wishes to mess with the TV?” she asked.
“Sort of,” Nabiki said, surfing the channels before nodding as a live TV broadcast came on. Ranma glanced at the screen, seeing a pretty girl holding a microphone and reporting on a minor traffic incident in downtown Tokyo. Behind her, two cars were shown pulled to the roadside with minor collision damage, and a police officer and ambulance were also on the scene. Nabiki pointed at one of the cars. “I wish for that car to turn canary yellow.”
Ranma blinked, snapping her fingers and saying, “Wish granted.” After a delay of a few seconds, the car—a cherry red hot rod of some American make—suddenly turned a bright, eye-catching yellow. The reporter winced as two other voices, presumably the in-studio anchors, began yelling in confusion about the car changing colors, and she turned around and recoiled in shock.
“I wish to know exactly where this accident was,” Nabiki said. As Ranma’s fingers again snapped, she nodded. “Wow, all the way over in Adachi. That’s some distance. Or maybe it was no distance at all? Did that seem hard at all?” she asked Ranma.
Puzzled, Ranma shook her head. “No, just snapping my fingers and bam, yellow car,” she said. “Just as easy as kicking Pops’s ass or making you as strong as Akane.”
“I see,” Nabiki mused. “Are there any hard rules on your wish granting? You mentioned earlier there was no numeric limit. What about scale and scope?”
Immediately, Ranma’s voice dropped into the monotone as her eyes turned half-lidded again. “I can’t grant a wish to kill, I can’t raise the dead, and I can’t make anyone fall in love,” the genie said flatly. She shook her head as she came out of the trance. “Gah! I hate that, don’t do that!”
Nabiki winced. “Sorry. What does that even feel like?”
“Like I’m being shoved aside so something or someone else can answer,” Ranma said. “It’s almost worse than the bottle.”
“Well, I’ll try not to do that again.” Nabiki tapped her chin in thought. “You can’t kill and you can’t raise the dead, but…” She hesitated, showing an uncharacteristic nervousness that even Ranma caught onto. “What if we wanted to speak to someone who’s dead?”
“Well, as long as you don’t try to word it like bringing them back to life—” Ranma’s expression turned grim as she suddenly cut herself off. “Seriously, don’t try to loophole it; don’t ask how I know, it’ll be bad.” She shook her head with a shiver. “Anyway, as long as you just want to talk, that should be fine.”
“So, if I wished to get a phone call from beyond, to talk to Mom one last time,” Nabiki said hesitantly. “You could do that?”
“Sure, easy as—” Ranma began, holding up her hand.
“Don’t,” Nabiki said immediately. “I didn’t wish for that… not yet.”
“You have to make the wish before me snapping my fingers means anything,” Ranma replied in a dry tone, snapping her fingers. Immediately, the phone began to ring and Nabiki glared at Ranma. “That wasn’t me!”
“It better not have been,” Nabiki growled, standing up and heading out to the phone. “I’ve got it!” she called, picking the receiver up nervously. “Hello…?” Immediately, relief sagged her frame slightly. “Oh, Natsumi. No, don’t ask. Yes, all the usual tomorrow.” She glanced back from the phone at Ranma. “But be ready for… weird.” She paused, then nodded. “Mhm. Talk to you in the morning. Bye.” With that, Nabiki hung up the phone with a sigh of relief, heading back into the living room. “A friend from school,” she explained.
“Told you it wasn’t me,” Ranma replied. “I… I don’t know what all I can do besides mess with wind outside of granting an explicitly stated wish. I haven’t messed with any of that.”
“Maybe you should. You’ve got a ridiculous amount of casual power at your fingertips,” Nabiki said. “Why not explore that a bit?”
“Maybe because the source of it was a super pissed off wind spirit who wanted to wipe mankind off the face of the planet,” Ranma replied in a deadpan tone, shooting Nabiki a flat look.
Again, the girl winced. “Fair enough.”
“Nabiki! I’m out of the bath!” Akane called, interrupting anything further. Now dressed in a regular T-shirt and shorts, the martial artist stepped into the living room, her hair wrapped in a towel. “Oh, Ranma. You’re a girl again.”
“Nabiki wanted to poke and prod at the genie,” Ranma explained, standing up. “I’m gonna go take a bath.”
“Dinner should be ready soon, so don’t take too long,” Akane said.
Ranma nodded, again warily eyeing her bottle in Nabiki’s hand. “Shouldn’t be,” she said, stepping away upstairs.
He returned only twenty minutes later, just in time to help Akane flip the overturned table off of his father and back into place. Mr. Tendo had also rejoined the world of the conscious, and the Tendo sisters had summarized the salient points of what he had missed while unconscious. To Ranma’s unease, his bottle was nowhere to be seen at the dinner table, and he wondered if Nabiki had hidden it away in her room.
“Well, I suppose the problem isn’t so bad after all,” Soun said after dinner.
“Speak for yourself,” Ranma replied flatly.
“Well, you’ve already met my daughters. Akane, 16; Nabiki, 17; Kasumi, 19,” Mr. Tendo explained. “Pick the one you want and she’s your fiancée.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Ranma asked. “Do you really think now is the time to talk about planning weddings?”
Nabiki shrugged. “It’s a bit fast, if you ask me, but I don’t mind considering the option,” she said. “Fine by me if you want to pick me.”
Akane sat up a little straighter. “Hold on now, slow down a bit, sis!” she said. “N-Not that I have any kind of interest there myself, but… shouldn’t he maybe consider the martial artist of the family? I guess… maybe I don’t mind that much either?”
Kasumi smiled at her sisters. “I don’t mind either,” she said. “I was worried about a younger man being boring, but he seems quite the opposite, especially with his genie magic.”
“Seems you’ve got your pick of the bunch, boy,” Genma said. “Why not go ahead and choose?”
Ranma felt as though the floor had fallen out from under him and left him dangling by a thread. Choose? Now? He shook his head uncertainly, and suddenly Nabiki’s voice spoke up. “Why choose right now?” she said. “I don’t graduate for two more years and Akane’s got another three. Ranma’s in the same boat as Akane. And then there’s college after that.”
“She’s right, Dad,” Akane said, turning on her father. “There’s no reason to rush this.”
“I agree.” Kasumi nodded firmly in agreement with her sisters. “There’s plenty of time for Ranma to get to know us before he comes to a decision. At the very least, he should graduate from high school first before picking who he’s going to eventually marry.”
Mr. Tendo’s mustache bristled as if he were uncertain about how to face the combined front of his daughters, but he raised a hand in surrender. “Alright, you win, girls,” he said. “But I expect the three of you to take this engagement seriously, even if it’s not final between the three of you.”
Akane flinched back as if realizing she were caught by her own cleverness. “Ri-Right, sure…”
“Of course,” Nabiki said, giving Ranma a smile that reminded the boy of a shark.
“Absolutely,” Kasumi replied, beaming at her father.