Chapter Text
Ranma was in shock. He could hardly believe it. A mutant? the words echoed endlessly in his mind. Not that he had anything against mutants in general—Ranma preferred to judge a person’s worth by who they were rather than what—but it just seemed so… so strange. So unusual. So unlikely. He stared in shock at the bald man who continued to speak, explaining in broad but neutral language exactly what mutation meant: the next stage of evolution for humanity. At least, a possible stage of evolution, as evolution was not always limited to a single branch.
Beside the bald man, who sat in a wheelchair, stood a tall redhead who, any other day, Ranma might have worried about being engaged to. Any other day didn’t include three foreign strangers—the third a shorter, stocky man in a heavy brown jacket and jeans who stood on the opposite side of the redhead—coming to his home at the Tendo Dojo to offer… a full ride scholarship program to “the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters.”
“We would also be willing to accommodate certain other necessities. We understand that this is a tremendous upheaval of your family and life,” the bald man, who had introduced himself as “Charles Xavier,” the headmaster of the school and presumably who it had been named for, said.
“I still can’t believe it,” Ranma said, turning to look in surprise at the others.
“There is no shame in being a mutant,” the redhead, Jean Grey, said in a slightly sharp tone.
“What?” Ranma turned back around. “Who’s sayin’ there is? I’m just surprised.”
“Jean,” Xavier said in a low voice, before addressing Ranma. “Certain people harbor a racial prejudice against people with an awakened X-gene. There has been considerable tension along both sides as a result.”
“That’s stupid,” Ranma replied bluntly. “It’s not anyone’s fault or choice to be a mutant. That would be like hatin’ someone just because, I dunno, they’re Chinese or have black skin.”
The entire room went silent for a moment and Ranma wondered why everyone was staring at him. “What?”
“I’m gonna tell him,” the shorter man sidebarred to his companions.
“Logan!” Jean replied sharply.
“I think,” another voice spoke up, and Ranma’s head swiveled to the speaker. “I think I’m going to accept the offer. I should learn how to use the abilities this mutation will grant me.”
“Yeah,” a second voice agreed. “I think I’ll accept too.”
“Me, too,” a third voice spoke up. “I guess that’s kind of unanimous, huh?”
At the center of the room sat three young girls. The Tendo sisters—Kasumi, the eldest; Nabiki, the middle; Akane, the youngest. The offer had been for them. Apparently, Professor Xavier had a device that could detect awakening or active X-genes around the planet. And all three Tendo sisters had active X-genes.
It still boggled Ranma’s mind.
“Y-You can’t, though, h-how will you carry on the engagement?” Soun Tendo, the girls’ father, protested. The tall, mustachioed man’s cheeks were wet with the ever-present tears.
“Daddy, I think there’s more important things to worry about than being engaged to Ranma-kun,” Nabiki said. “Besides, what if he doesn’t want to be engaged to a mutant?”
“Why would I care about that?” Ranma asked.
“Foolish, as if my boy would care about such things.” Ranma’s father, one Genma Saotome, pushed the bridge of his glasses up his nose. “I may not have been the finest of fathers, but I instilled in my son the wisdrbblrlbrlgrg.”
As Genma droned on, Ranma handily interrupted him with a convenient bottle of water, leaving a panda in his father’s place as the older man’s transformative curse took hold. Even as the foreign guests stared in shock, Ranma leaned over, a hand cupped to his ear. “What was that, Pops? Instilled in me the what?”
“Did that man just…” Jean seemed to be at a loss.
“He… he did. And he is. I smell panda now,” Logan said. “But he was a man. Is he a mutant, too?”
Genma did not take his sudden transformation lying down, and began wrestling with Ranma as the guests watched, offering amazed commentary at someone who was seemingly a normal human fending off a full-grown panda. Little did they know…
Ranma casually deflected two swipes from his transformed father, laughing triumphantly. “Too slow, Pops! Maybe it’s time you gave up the—”
Genma suddenly lunged forward, grabbing his son by the shirt and hefting him overhead before Ranma could react. With a triumphant snarl, the panda lobbed Ranma at the koi pond. Ranma’s response was to colorfully question his father’s parental origins before he landed with a splash.
A second splash heralded Ranma’s return, now in her transformed state—much shorter, red-haired, and very definitely female as she slammed into her panda father. The two fighters resumed their brawl in the yard, trading attacks back and forth, leaving the foreign audience stunned and baffled.
“Ranma-kun! Mr. Saotome! I have some hot water for you!” Kasumi called from the walkway, stepping out with a pair of familiar battered brass kettles.
Ranma shoved her father away, growling. “Deal with you later,” she said, turning to accept the kettle with a smile. “Thank you, Kasumi-san.”
“Yes, my thanks, Kasumi-chan.” Genma had also restored his human form. “As I was saying, I have instilled in my son the very best of intentions. It is simply not in his nature nor his nurture to be concerned about race or birth.”
“Or, in other words,” Nabiki interjected. “Being on the road and seeing so many people for his twelve year training journey as he did, Ranma probably met a bunch of different people and the idea of racism or bigotry never occurred to him. And I’ll even admit it, Ranma-kun, in that regard, I do consider you remarkably pure-hearted. I’m sure the world will one day ruin that innocence.”
“Wait, there are people who seriously hate others just because of how they were born or what color their skin is?” Ranma asked. “I thought you guys were pulling my leg!”
“Unfortunately, not. Mutants have faced a great deal of discrimination over the years. In fact, ‘mutant’ used to be a derogatory term to refer to those with an active X-gene,” Xavier explained. “Some still try to use it as such, but many of us have taken the term for ourselves and wear it with pride.”
“Well, good!” Ranma asserted, crossing his arms. “It ain’t right to hate someone because they were born with an extra gene or somethin’. On a related note, point me in the direction of whoever’s ass I gotta kick for this.”
“I like this kid,” Logan said with a grin.
Jean and the Professor shared a look. After a moment, Xavier smiled and Jean nodded with an uncertain expression. The bald man faced forward once again. “After some consideration, while there was no indication that Mr. Saotome has an active X-gene, I would also like to extend an offer of a full ride scholarship to him as well, contingent on his maintaining a certain standard of performance at the institute.” His smile widened slightly as he leaned forward, spreading his hands. “In this small way, we hope to perhaps help him to better understand and appreciate the struggle of mutants while also minimizing the disruption to the clear family dynamic here.”
“So, full ride, and I just gotta keep my grades up? What’s your phys ed program like?” Ranma asked.
“Oh, I think you’ll like it, kid,” Logan said with a smirk. “I’ve got a pretty good read on you now.”
“Ominous!” Nabiki quipped.
“I’m in, then,” Ranma said.
“Excellent. Now, to help with the burden of the move, Jean and Logan will remain in Tokyo for the next several days,” Xavier said. “They will assist with acquiring four passports, as well as arranging for transportation. There’s no time limit on fulfillment of this offer but we do ask that you work as quickly as you can for your own sakes.”
“Akane and I will have to withdraw from school. Ranma, too,” Nabiki thought out loud.
“The expense budget we’re allotted will cover refunding the costs that the three of you paid to attend,” Jean promised.
Ranma looked up in thought. “I’ll have to let Mom know. Uh… Do you girls mind if I tell her that you’re mutants?”
The girls did not mind, so Ranma stood, heading for the phone. After the wedding debacle, Ranma’s mother had moved back out to focus on rebuilding the Saotome home, so he dialed the number for his family residence. After a few rings, the line clicked over to a voicemail, so Ranma left a brief message asking his mother to call or drop by as soon as she could.
As he hung up, he turned, coming face to face with Genma. “Boy, we need to talk,” he said, walking for the dojo. “Come with me.”
Blinking, Ranma followed behind the older man, puzzled. Nobody else was present as the pair entered the dojo, and Genma walked to the center of the room before turning around. His expression was unusually grim.
“Something you ought to know, boy,” Genma said. “I’m a mutant, too.”
Ranma blinked. “R-Really? Wait, does that mean—”
“No,” Genma said with a sigh. “No, as far as I know, you’re still a baseline human. Probably got that from your mother. No, be proud, boy. Everything you’ve accomplished is a result of your stubborn refusal to give up and your dedication to training. No, I’ve had an active mutation gene most of my life, but the trigger that actually awakened my powers… was Jusenkyo.”
As Genma spoke, Ranma noticed his features began to slowly change. Ranma’s eyes widened as he saw the stocky, bulky man shift into a trimmer build, his face changing to match and his voice losing some of the gravelly bite. “That fall into Shonmaoniichuuan awakened the power of transformation.”
“Wait, you can shapeshift? But then… why do you still turn into a panda?”
“Because Jusenkyo doesn’t particularly care if you’re a mutant or not,” Genma snapped. “I can’t use my power to shift back when I change because of the curse.” He slowly shifted back into the form Ranma knew. “I thought maybe Jusenkyo might have awakened an X-gene in you, but it didn’t. Nor did any of the other battles that have come your way. If not even Saffron could trigger that in you, I doubt it exists to awaken.”
“Is that a problem?” Ranma asked warily.
“Only if you make it one, boy,” Genma said, putting a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Despite how it might seem, I have always tried to raise you as best I could. Do you think any differently of me knowing I’m a mutant?”
“My judgment of you is pretty much entirely based on you possibly using that power to bilk someone and has more to do with you being you.”
Genma smirked. “Like you do with your curse?”
Ranma grimaced at that but turned away. He wasn’t exactly proud of what he did with his curse, but he also took a certain amount of pride in the fact that his female form was capable of eliciting a response like that from the unwary and unwitting, like Tokyo’s hapless food cart vendors.
“Of course, shameful pride,” a woman’s voice suddenly spoke up, and Ranma whirled back around, face to face with a younger and absolutely stunning brunette woman who was nearly spilling out of her plain white gi. “What can I expect from an amateur? Maybe it’s my fault for not teaching you any better, boy.”
The voice was utterly wrong but the words, the speech pattern… “Pops?!”
“Pretty impressive transformation, isn’t it, boy?” the woman asked, crossing her arms under her chest. “Complete, from what I understand.”
“C-complete?” Ranma wheezed.
“At least as complete as yours. Want to spar with your ‘mother,’ boy?”
“I’d rather you turn back to… to normal! Or whatever passes for normal!” Ranma spat out, his brain trying to process the situation. “Does—Does Mom know?”
As Genma shifted back into his original form, he smirked. “Do you really want to know, boy?” At Ranma’s confused stare, the man shrugged. “Who do you think helped me come up with that body?”
Ranma thought about that question… then turned slightly green. “That… is entirely too much information,” he concluded. “I think I’m gonna go pack for the trip.”
“Boy.” Genma’s voice stopped Ranma mid-turning around. “Don’t let my stupidity control you. You’ve resisted me this long and I am now well aware of how stupid I’ve been. If I can be both so easily, so can you, if you finally let go of the poor lessons I’ve taught you.”
Ranma put his hand on the door. “I can’t tell if that’s the smartest thing or the stupidest thing you’ve said yet, Pops,” he said, sliding open the door and going through.
It would be utterly impossible to keep such an undertaking as moving four people across the world under wraps, at least in Nerima. The Kuno family’s pockets ran deep enough to buy the secret, and Ranma’s decency saw it delivered to Ukyo in turn. In short order, that meant the Joketsuzoku were also aware. Ranma’s mother, Nodoka Saotome, had taken the news fairly well, at least.
Not having the funds to pursue Ranma to the United States for her engagement, Ukyo was forced to bow out with the hope that he would return a free man and choose her one day. Likewise, while the Joketsuzoku were more persistent, they lacked the resources to pursue someone all the way to the United States, where their activities would undoubtedly meet far worse scrutiny than they had in the bewitched Furinkan ward of Nerima City, Tokyo.
If anything, Ranma was fairly disappointed in how subdued the goodbyes were. Perhaps a fraction of that disappointment was also that while the Tendos each packed several suitcases to load onto the Xavier Institute’s private jet, when Logan had come over to offer Ranma’s assistance with loading up, he had only two things to load—a single suitcase and a battered leather backpack.
To be honest, he hadn’t even needed the suitcase. It was mostly clothes that had been bought for “Ranko Tendo” during a brief period where his mother had thought him to be a cousin of the Tendo sisters.
A sour grimace twisted his lips to think of it. The sum total of Ranma Saotome contained in a beaten leather travel pack. He had more as Ranko Tendo than he did as himself. He wanted to punch something but the plane was already in the air and flying across the Pacific. It did occur to him that the plane’s metal shell was probably not suited to withstanding the sudden and violent devastation he was capable of unleashing, and so he simply sat sulking in his seat.
Red fluttered past his vision as Jean Grey, the woman from the Institute, sat down across from him. “Is everything alright, Saotome-san?” she asked in flawless Japanese.
Ranma furrowed his brow in thought. According to what Jean and Logan had shared, Logan possessed a healing factor that made Ranma’s own rapid healing look like a joke. Certainly, Ranma couldn’t come back from a punctured heart, or at least he had no desire to test that theory. Logan could. Jean, on the other hand, was apparently an incredibly powerful psychic, with both telepathic and telekinetic powers. Ranma had seen a brief smile from them both when he had expressed that he simply thought their powers were “neat.”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just… I saw everythin’ the girls had to pack and then me…”
“You had almost nothing. Just a pack and a suitcase.”
“It’s not even that. The suitcase isn’t even really me.” He fidgeted slightly as he considered how to word what he was trying to say. “You saw my curse back at the dojo.”
“Yes. Your transformation was… definitely surprising to say the least,” Jean admitted. She idly twirled a length of her own hair around one finger. “It’s been a long time since I ever met someone with the same shade as me.”
Ranma cracked a smirk. “Got the hair from my mom,” he admitted as his mood lightened just a little bit. “I take after her in a lot of ways, apparently. Anyway, the backpack is everything that’s me, besides a few things that wouldn’t fit so they went in the suitcase. Otherwise, the suitcase was… all stuff that my mom bought me before she found out who I was.” Ranma sighed, his pride fleeing him at the memory of deceiving his mother like that. “All of that belongs to ‘Ranko Tendo,’ a girl who doesn’t really exist.”
“I see. Or, at least, I see what you have chosen to reveal to me.” Jean frowned in thought, a finger hooking over her chin. “Perhaps Ranko Tendo doesn’t exist. But, then, why keep the items?”
“Well, Mom bought most of it. Some of it,” Ranma hedged. “I don’t wanna hurt her feelings by throwin’ it all out.”
“But then why take it with you?” Jean pressed. “I’m sure she would have held onto it for you.”
Ranma frowned. Why had he taken it all with him? As Jean said, his mother would surely hold the girlish clothing. Or trash it herself when he wasn’t going to use it anymore.
“Maybe Ranko Tendo didn’t really exist,” Jean said. “But, just maybe, Ranma Saotome—both man and woman—has more to discover about who he and she really are than either of them thought.”
“You think I’m a man and a woman?”
“I only think it’s possible,” Jean said, standing up. “Only you can say for sure.” With that, she left, her red hair swaying behind her as she made her way to where the Tendo sisters were seated. Ranma briefly frowned at her back, before turning the frown inward.
Man and woman, he thought. That’s ridiculous. Isn’t it?
Is it?
Of course it is. I’m a man among men.
Could be a woman among women, too. Easily. Mom taught me, I have a bunch of examples to follow—and Pops told me to forget his stupid lessons. Like about girls being weak, probably.
Ranma shook his head in thought. Doing something simply because his father would approve? The thought put a wry grin on his face as he was ready to reject that particular thought out of hand. Doing something that would run counter to everything he had been raised with and taught for the sake of riling up said father, especially that version of said father?
That was something Ranma could get behind.
Alright, let’s entertain this insanity. Woman among women. Wouldn’t that mean dating guys and stuff? he asked himself.
Why would it? he countered, and he realized this second voice sounded like his female form. It made sense for him to internalize the debate in that way. Male and female.
Well, man among men means having a lot of girls, doesn’t it? According to Mom? he thought.
I don’t think even Mom has a really clear idea on what a man among men is, she reasoned back. Besides, I don’t like guys. Well, not in that way, anyway.
Well, that’s a relief, he thought back sardonically. What about flower arrangement, dresses, cooking, sewing?
What about it? she asked. I like cooking. I like wearing a pretty dress and knowing I’ve got every eye on the street—even the guys’. I don’t want to do anything with them but I like knowing I could have them eating out of the palm of my hand if I wanted. I kind of like sewing, too. Maybe we can drop the flower arrangement, though.
Ranma blinked, not having expected himself—or perhaps it was herself?—offering such a reasonable retort. And it was true. He enjoyed cooking. He enjoyed being a head-turner, in either form. He didn’t really have a problem with sewing.
And bein’ a housewife? he asked.
A bit traditional for my tastes but I’d probably be that anyway if I ran a dojo. Maybe my wife could be the real breadwinner, she thought, almost amused.
Alright, alright, I’ve got me, he groused. It’s not as easy as just doing it, though.
Sure, it is, she replied. But, baby steps. Just like my first kata. I’m not going to get this down on the first day.
Baby steps, he reminded himself.
It was a start.
It was raining as the plane landed. Not nearly heavy enough to warrant a different airport, but enough that when they stepped outside, Ranma’s curse was triggered. Baby steps, she reminded herself, shrugging off the change.
“Sorry about the weather,” Jean said, this time speaking English. “A friend of ours could change it but she tries not to meddle too much unless she has to.”
“Get used to sudden rain squalls around Ranma,” Nabiki replied with a smirk. “The longest periods of clear weather that Furinkan had were when he was locked in girl form or out of the district.”
“Laugh it up, Nabiki,” Ranma grumbled, retrieving her things to load in one of the two cars that were waiting. Ranma was apparently going to travel in a car with Logan, while the Tendo sisters would pool in with Jean.
“Stop make fun of Ranma, Nabiki,” Akane said in halting English. She frowned, obviously realizing the sentence wasn’t completely correct, then glared at Ranma.
“What did I do this time?” Ranma asked tiredly as she shut the trunk of Logan’s car.
“Where you learn speak English so good?” Akane asked. “Hinako grades not good as mine.”
“Pops and I stayed at one of the U.S. Marine bases for a bit on the training trip,” Ranma replied. “I was like eight and he wanted me to learn some Muay Thai and Jiu-Jitsu, and I ended up picking up English while I was there, but only speakin’ it, I’m not so great at reading and writing.”
“In any language,” Nabiki quipped. Ranma glared at her.
“It is alright, Akane,” Kasumi said, also in English and resting a hand on Akane’s shoulder. “My English also is not perfect, we will be learning together.”
Jean cleared her throat. “If everyone is all packed, we should get going,” she said. “Professor Xavier and the rest of the school are expecting us.”
“Shotgun!” Nabiki and Ranma said at the same time, hopping into the front passenger seats of their respective cars. Kasumi and Akane, looking puzzled, got into the back seat of Jean’s car, while Logan simply raised an eyebrow at Ranma as he got into the driver’s seat.
“Kinda pointless to call shotgun when I’m the only one in here with ya, isn’t it, kid?” Logan asked as he began to drive.
“Well, I’ve always wanted to do it just once, so even if it doesn’t matter…”
Logan smirked. “Alright, kid, fair enough.” He turned the radio on to a music station, keeping the volume low.
“So, what’s an obvious adrenaline junkie doing at the school of peace and inclusion?” Ranma asked. Logan glanced over at her.
“Call it therapy,” Logan said. “Chuck, the Professor, he helped me out of some pretty bad spots. Plus, while we want to be peaceful and inclusive, Chuck’s not stupid. If you want peace…”
“Prepare for war,” Ranma replied. Si vis pacem para bellum, she thought. It was a phrase she had learned from one of the Marines, and quite possibly the only Latin she would ever know besides some random pissant with a grudge and magical item coming at her.
“My turn,” Logan said. “What’s an obvious adrenaline junkie doing hanging around a nice, quiet Tokyo home with three sweet girls like that?”
Ranma chuckled. “Fair play,” she acknowledged. “It’s a matter of honor. I’m engaged to marry one of ‘em and take over the family dojo. Technically, it’s for any of the three, but the big push is on Akane because she’s the martial artist of the family.”
“Alright, that’s the answer of honor,” Logan said. “And I’ve spent enough time in Japan to know what that really means. Now, how do you really feel?”
Ranma frowned. Whatever else he was, Logan was damn perceptive, that was for sure. “I’m only sixteen,” she said. “I’m not ready to get married. They’re not ready to get married. And… I don’t know if I really want to be married to one of them.”
“How do you really feel about them?”
“I love them. But they’re like sisters to me,” Ranma admitted. Somehow, it was easy to admit that to the regenerative mutant. Maybe it’s because he can obviously already tell, she mused. “Maybe, if we try, we could have something different, but that’s how I feel. Even Akane, and Ucchan, are more like siblings than anything else to me.”
Logan was silent for a moment as the streets of New York went by. Ranma turned to look out the window, and the car ahead was lost in the blur of traffic. Finally, Logan spoke up again. “Talk to Chuck. He might have some ideas. And he knows some really good lawyers.”
Ranma raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “Alright.” It would definitely be something to keep in mind, she supposed.
“Whoa.”
This was the only word that Ranma, now male after Logan had made a brief stop for a coffee and also got him some hot water, could give as he took in the Institute. The rain had stopped and the sun was peeking out again, and the vast campus of the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters made every other school Ranma had ever seen look absolutely paltry by comparison.
“Nice place, huh, kid?” Logan asked with a grin as he popped the trunk for Ranma.
“I think you even beat Toudai,” Ranma said as he grabbed his pack and suitcase. The pack was immediately slung over his shoulders and he gripped the case in his left hand. “Where are the others?”
“Jean beat us here by a few minutes, so she’s getting the girls settled in over at the girls’ dorm,” Logan explained. “Your guide ought to be here to show you—”
A rush of air interrupted Logan. At the same time, a tall and well-built young man with silver-hair appeared, where he had not been a moment ago, with arms crossed. Ranma had barely caught the movement before he arrived and immediately attributed it to some level of super speed. “Hey there, Logan, took ya long enough,” the young man said, grinning.
“Blame traffic,” Logan said. “Here’s your new mentee, Ranma Saotome. Kid, this is Pietro Maximoff, aka ‘Quicksilver.’ His mutation makes him superhumanly fast.”
Pietro held a hand out and Ranma shook it, smirking. “I’m pretty quick myself, but I don’t think I’m superspeed fast,” Ranma admitted.
“What’s your mutant power, Saotome?” Pietro asked.
“He doesn’t have a mutation,” Logan answered for Ranma. “He’s a baseline human.”
Pietro blinked, glancing rapidly between Logan and Ranma. “But still attending mutant school?”
“Chuck’s got a weird idea about it; he’s a good kid, though.” Logan shrugged. “Take it up with Chuck if you got a real problem with it.”
“Is a baseline really going to be able to keep up with mutants?” Pietro asked, sounding doubtful.
“Bet I can and bet I will,” Ranma replied with a grin, eager to rise to the challenge.
Pietro grinned back. “Alright, I think I see what you like about him, Logan. Alright, Saotome, let’s make this a little contest, shall we?” He glanced Ranma over, then jerked his thumb in a given direction. “Boys’ dorms are this way. I’ll take your suitcase and bag and go at half-speed. If you can beat me to the building, I’ll buy lunch anywhere you want off-campus; if I win, even with your bags, you buy me lunch in the on-campus commissary.”
Ranma considered the challenge, eyeing Pietro. At the speed the boy had shown already, half-speed seemed like it would still be well outside of what Ranma could match for now even if he put everything he could into a dead run. On the other hand, she mused, eyes slightly widening. “With my bags, you said?” Ranma replied with a grin. Pietro nodded. “Alright, Speedy. You’re on!” With that, Ranma was off like a shot, clutching his bags closely.
In terms of speed, it was just as Ranma had thought—no contest. Pietro easily beat him to the dorms. However, after a few attempts at getting the bags, Pietro had abandoned the suitcase and backpack and simply ran to the “finish line,” looking smug with his arms crossed as Ranma arrived. “Too slow, Saotome,” the super-speed mutant said. “Better luck next time, lunch is on you.”
“Wrong,” Ranma said as he walked up. “Lunch is on you, Speedy. You didn’t beat me here ‘even with my bags.’ As everyone here can see…” Ranma nodded to the group of people hanging around the dorm building. “I still have my suitcase and backpack.”
“Wha… But that’s not…”
“Hold on, Professor Quicksilver, did you actually lose?” a taller person, who looked more like a bipedal alligator than a human, asked.
“The exact terms of the bet were, ‘if I win, even with your bags,’ and ‘I’ll take your bag and suitcase,’” Ranma pointed out. “I still have my bags and you didn’t even really try to take them. That means I win.”
Pietro’s jaw dropped, and many of the surrounding students laughed as they overheard. Finally, he gave a laugh of his own, shrugging. “Alright, Saotome, you got me,” he admitted. “You win this round. You name it, I’m buyin’. Next round is mine.” With that declaration, he held his fist out. Ranma smirked and tapped his fist against Pietro’s in recognition of the challenge. “Let’s get you a room and then I’ll show you to the commissary.”
Ranma’s room was a double room, albeit the size of the old Tendo guest room and with two closets. Apparently, he was simply lucky in getting an open room as everyone else already had roommates. Leaving his suitcase next to the bed and his backpack on it, Ranma followed Pietro from the dorms to the commissary.
“Now, the rule here is, order what you want,” Pietro advised. “Whatever the amount, it’s covered under your scholarship or, if you stick around and become a teacher, your salary and tenure.”
Ranma blinked. “Wait, didn’t you say I was supposed to pay if you won our race?”
Pietro grinned, winking at Ranma and causing the pigtailed martial artist to laugh out loud. “Nice to be taken in by a professional, huh?” the white-haired man quipped. “But, seriously, when I say order what you want, I mean it. Look there.” Pietro pointed over to where one student, who stood head and shoulders above those around him, was ordering. As Ranma watched, the staff handing out the food began liberally piling things atop the plates and into the bowls on his tray. “Now, you probably can’t eat as much as him, but the point is, you can get as much to eat as you need. The only rule is to not order more than you can eat.”
Ranma grinned as the line moved forward.
A few minutes later, Ranma and Pietro had sat down to eat their collections, and Pietro looked… doubtful. Ranma’s tray was heaped nearly as high as the larger student’s had been. “Man, there’s no way you can eat that,” he said.
“You wanna bet?”
“There’s no way a baseline human can possibly eat all of that,” Pietro replied. “Some of us burn a ton of calories to fuel our X-gene mutations but you’re just human. You’ve even admitted it.”
Ranma smirked. “Bet.”
As Pietro opened his mouth, a young woman’s voice spoke up, “I wouldn’t take that bet if I were you.” Ranma and Pietro turned to see the Tendo sisters approaching. Kasumi and Akane were looking around in awe at the sights, while Nabiki was simply smirking at Pietro in a way Ranma found incredibly familiar.
“Hey, Nabiki. Akane, Kasumi!” Ranma called out, waving. Akane gave a weak, wide-eyed wave, but Kasumi beamed and also gave an energetic wave. “Here to get some lunch?”
“Miss Grey said she would handle that, and told us to find a seat,” Nabiki said, sitting down next to Pietro. Akane, still stunned, sat next to Ranma. “You must be Pietro Maximoff? I’ve heard about you around school. Nabiki Tendo.”
“A pleasure, of course,” Pietro said, giving Nabiki a casual once-over. “Now, why wouldn’t I want to take this bet?”
“Only because Ranma can easily clear that entire tray without breaking a sweat,” Nabiki said. “Right, Akane?”
“Huh? Oh, right. Ranma eat lots. Probably literally eat tray, then ask for seconds,” Akane replied, blinking owlishly. “Sorry, amazed by school.”
“Yeah, it’s a big place alright,” Ranma admitted. “But I see a lot of people around, students and teachers. They’ll probably be able to help you get a handle on your new powers, all three of ya.”
“That’s the plan,” Jean said as she stepped up, sitting next to Pietro on Nabiki’s other side. Above her head floated four different trays, which settled to the table in front of her and the Tendo girls. “And maybe we can help you, too, Ranma.”
“Maybe, but if I get any help here, it won’t be with controlling my abilities,” Ranma replied. “Though maybe I’ll get some good ideas…”
“Well, if your friends are trying to talk me out of this, I’ll take the bet. What stakes, Saotome?” Pietro asked, leaning in.
“Personally, I just like fighting for pride,” Ranma replied. “So I’ll settle for just bein’ able to call you a loser twice, this time.”
“You’re on! Let’s see it!”
With that, Ranma began digging in with gusto. As Pietro ate, his expression began to fall, then turn into shock as Ranma cleaned off the entire tray of every scrap of everything edible. For their parts, the Tendo sisters ate with more decorum but made steady progress on completely clearing their plates.
“I don’t believe it… I can’t believe it,” Pietro said in shock. “You must be a concealed mutation or something.”
“Or you’re just a sore loser,” Ranma replied smugly. He turned to the Tendo sisters, curious. “So, what kind of powers do you three have? Do you know yet?”
Kasumi smiled. “I have a touch of healing, it seems,” she said. “There is someone who is named Elixir here. I will be studying my powers with him.”
“Want to take a wild guess at my powers?” Nabiki asked with a smirk.
“Knowin’ my luck, you’re probably a mind-reader now,” Ranma grumbled.
“Not far off. I apparently have very strong empathic senses now. I can’t read thoughts, but I can read emotions,” Nabiki said. “Yes, it’s perfectly alright to be amazed.”
“I mean, I can kinda do that already,” Ranma mused. “But it’s a pretty neat natural gift. Useful for guessing a person’s intent if you’re already a good people-reader. Natural fit for ya, I guess. Akane?”
Akane coughed, blushing slightly. “Do… do not be mad,” she told Ranma.
“Mad? Why would I be mad about your powers?”
“Because… because power is being better,” Akane said, then frowned. “Not mean like that…” She shook her head again, before speaking up in Japanese. “I’m sorry, I know I need to practice my English, but is it alright if I just tell you like this?”
Ranma blinked, then nodded.
“Thank you. My power is superior physical capability—I’ve apparently been slowly developing for a while now,” Akane explained. “I’m stronger, faster, tougher, and have better reflexes than baseline humans. It’s just recently that the mutation hit a spike and developed to the point that it’s at now.”
Ranma blinked, feeling an unsettling sensation in the pit of his stomach. “Yeah? And what point is that?” he asked in Japanese.
“It might be easier to show you than to just tell you,” Akane replied, poking at her food.
Ranma frowned but nodded, not having a choice but to wait until the Tendo sisters finished their meals. It was not as though they had anywhere else to be today, and Pietro seemed too curious to continue the tour anyway. Jean looked like she had a protest of some kind, but was keeping quiet.
Still, eventually, the group found themselves outside in an open field. Ranma, as usual, kept his arms behind his back, waiting in his empty stance for Akane to make the first move. He wasn’t worried. He had fought the likes of Konatsu, Herb, Rouge, Saffron… How much “more” could Akane possibly—
Akane’s fist blazed past his face, narrowly missing him even as he fully committed to the evasion, eyes going wide in alarm. Even as he continued through the motion, she was already switching to an overhanded blow that would hit him while he evaded the punch. His hand came up to deflect her wrist—and he was nearly taken for a ride as he completely failed to even slow the arm’s descent. Instead, he was forced prone and rolled away from her follow up attack.
As he rolled to his feet, this time in a proper ready stance and prepared for her attacks, he saw Akane approaching again. Her actual approach was slow, as if she was letting him ready himself—and her fists blew in at speeds he didn’t think were possible for her. He was maintaining parity in evading the attacks, deflecting where it was necessary, but only barely. And the worst part, in Ranma’s opinion, was that he knew she was not fighting at her best—because the longer the barrage of punches went on, the tighter their grouping and accuracy became!
He grit his teeth. I am not gonna lose to Akane of all people! he thought with some nervousness, despite the fact that that seemed to be exactly the outcome he was headed for. His aura flared up as he gathered his fighting spirit, and he lunged forward to press the attack, putting the fullest measure of his speed into his offensive. For all the good that it did, Ranma may as well have done nothing at all, as while Akane briefly showed a flash of alarm, she otherwise had no difficulty keeping up with the increased pace.
And then Akane leaned forward into her own counter-counter-offensive.
Pain exploded up the length of Ranma’s torso as Akane’s hands blazed past his own even while deflecting his attack. While he had always known the girl was brutally strong, each blow was landing with speed that defied his and was, at least, a match for Ryoga. The sheer force of so many impacts at once sent him flying from his feet, only barely turning it into a controlled roll that left him in a crouch instead of leaving him flat on his back.
He lifted his head, shocked, and met Akane’s expression. Akane, however, simply looked sad. “I never wanted it to be like this,” she said in Japanese. “I wanted to get as good as you were through practice. Through training. Through you teaching me. Not because of some… some freakish birth.”
Ranma felt an odd double pang in his chest at Akane’s words. She had wanted to be as good as him. Now she was. In fact, she was probably stronger than him, now. She was easily faster. He had seen how she imitated his moves flawlessly, meaning she could duplicate his skill. But none of it had been her conscious doing. None of it had been from training. She could not feel any pride in it.
It was because she was a mutant.
This was not like the battle do-gi, where she had a bond with the article of clothing. Nor was it like the super soba, which had been an accident because of eating the wrong bowl of noodles. This wasn’t like Mousse’s instant-victory glasses, which the duck-warrior had wielded with malicious intent, nor like the Mark of the Gods, which Ryoga had despised once he realized how empty a cheated victory was.
Ranma’s hand came to rest on Akane’s shoulder. She looked up at him in surprise, and he held out a clenched fist.
“Good fight, tomboy,” he said in a quiet voice, motioning his head toward his fist. Blinking in surprise and through her tears, she smiled, nodding, and bumped her fist against his.
“Good fight, Ranma.”
“I won’t go half as easy on you next time,” Ranma said. “Maybe you can copy my moves, but I’ll show you how to really use ‘em. If you’re gonna be copyin’ me, I’m gonna make sure you’re damn good at it. You can still build your skill.”
Akane’s smile widened a bit and Ranma let himself smile through his wounded pride. He looked over to the others, who began to walk over. Pietro reached them first, naturally, looking in amazement at Ranma. “Holy crap, dude, are you sure you’re a baseline human?” he asked. “You could probably fight Captain America to a standstill! Or maybe even beat him!”
“What can I say?” Ranma replied with a shrug. “I trained really hard.”
“I bet!” Pietro replied. Before he could comment further, Kasumi approached, resting her hands on Ranma’s shoulders. A warm feeling rushed through him and his bruises began to fade away. Nabiki, however, simply raised an eyebrow at him.
“Are you feeling alright, Saotome?” she asked, arms crossed.
“I think, from what you said your powers are, you know better than anyone how I feel right now, Nabiki,” Ranma replied in a level tone.
“I, for one, am proud of you,” Jean said with a smile. “You handled that better than I would have expected, given… certain past experiences.”
“I really don’t care about mutants versus humans,” Ranma repeated. “Besides, I can get better.” He smirked at Akane. “And so can she. She really needs to work on those transitions. You’re not coastin’ on your new power up just ‘cuz you beat me once, tomboy.”
“‘I beat Ranma Saotome’ more than most people able say!” Akane protested.
“Yeah. But you think I’m gonna let it happen again?”
Akane gaped at the pigtailed boy, who crossed his arms at her and smirked. Even Pietro seemed at a loss. Nabiki simply rolled her eyes as Kasumi gave a quiet laugh behind her hand.
“My, if Ranma is going to be training so intensely, I can hardly be doing less, myself,” Kasumi said with some amusement.
“I guess I can’t let my own practice and training go slack if the normie is going to be pushing that hard to keep up with us,” Nabiki added with her own grin. “Which means, Akane, you can’t, either.”
“Got that right.” Ranma smirked at Akane, nodding his head quickly. “No slackin’ off, Akane, otherwise, I’ll leave ya in the dust again.”