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In the beginning, all was dark or light, moist or dry. It was a creature of pure Yin, its energies attuned to the comfort of the cold, the wet, the moon and the feminine. It did not need to understand shape or color or smell or sound, it only needed to understand how to writhe its way through its domain far below the realm of the dry, the heat, the light, the Yang.
It existed in this state, through uncountable cycles of dark and light, until one day the very forces it bathed in betrayed it. Its world was familiar, comforting– it bathed in the dark, the moist, the fullness that surrounded it. Until it did not. A split, something cutting into its core and nearly cleaving it in twain. Unmooring, a sudden disconnect from the moist as it was buffeted by the dry. It could do nothing but desperately wiggle, lashing out at the sudden emptiness around it.
The world shrank and shrank and shrank, until suddenly the pressure in its core loosened. The world was no longer dark and light, moist and dry. It was shape and color and smell and sound. Foreignness, a small core expanded until it could drape loosely across the form of an unknown giant. It tensed, it writhed, and for the first time its vibrations let loose and echoed through the night sky.
<~~~~~~>
Ba Mabu awoke with a start as a shrill screech pierced through the night. Without a moment of delay, he hustled towards the door while pulling on a loose jacket. Under the light of a kerosene lamp, he ran towards the source, taking care to dodge every pitfall he’d learned of through a full life of walking the grounds. It was his duty, passed down from ancestor to ancestor all the way back to the founding of the Tang Dynasty, to guard the Springs of Sorrow and save those who might fall into their grasp.
The screams began to sputter away, replaced by the sound of sputtering gasps and churning water as he got closer and closer to the source. He picked up the pace, desperately stumbling forward as he caught sight of the springs’ latest victim– a young boy barely holding his head above the water as he splashed around the Spring of the Drowned Man. Without even double-checking to make sure his layer of waterproof soap was still fresh, the Jusenkyo Guide tossed his lamp to the side and dove into the water. Hefting the young boy out of the water, he grew even more dismayed as he felt the gaping wound in the boy’s side. Nobody, whether human-turned animal, animal-turned-human, or another thing entirely, had yet died during his years-long vigil over the cursed springs. And, as he tore off his jacket to apply pressure to the boy’s wounds, the guide prayed to the gods that this streak would continue for years to come.
As it happened, Ba Mabu’s prayers would be answered by the dawn of the next morning. Tourism at Jusenkyo was a risky business– it brought in thousands of potential victims every year, but it also brought in the funds and connections necessary to keep his stewardship going. In this case, it brought a Japanese doctor and his wife right to the steps of his hut.
Running on barely any sleep after taking care of his young charge all through the night Ba had had little patience for the pair of bright-eyed tourists who had shown up at his door. In broken Japanese, he had told them in no uncertain terms to leave because the springs were closed. It was only pure luck that allowed the wife to see past Ba’s wideset shoulders. She pointed and gasped, spitting out a phrase in rapid Japanese that sent her husband rushing through the door. By the time Ba recovered from being roughly shoved out of the way, the husband and wife duo were already tending to the boy.
Ba, from years of experience dealing with the general chaos that persisted over the spring and the lands around it, knew well when it was his time to step aside. For the following week, he would aid the couple in any way he could as they took care of the nameless boy. Throughout that period, the boy never made a sound. He just watched them, eyes never wavering as the guide and the visiting couple worked to heal his wounds. It was clear to Ba that, whatever the young boy had been before, it was certainly not human. He’d seen it before in the eyes of other spring victims. Sometimes the eyes were wild, exposing a feral nature that wished to bite and claw at the unfamiliar vessel that housed its soul. Other times, just as now, the eyes were gentle, taking in the unfamiliar sights with a level of internal peace that rivalled the itinerant monks who occasionally passed through the area. Above all, though, the eyes were always devastatingly observant, soaking in everything around them as they filled out the vacant space in their newly expanded consciousness.
Despite this, it almost entirely slipped Ba Mabu’s mind to actually check what type of creature the young boy was. It only occurred to him when the visiting couple began discussing having to leave– and wanting to take the boy with them. He’d immediately sat the couple down and explained the situation to them, gone over all the possibilities and safeguards and the cautionary tales passed down through generations of Spring Guides. In the end, despite his warnings, they stayed right at the boy’s bedside when Ba finally dumped a cup full of hot water onto the boy’s head.
And, wouldn’t you know it, Ba had a new story to add to the family’s annals. He’d never heard of a cursed worm before.
<~~~~~~>
Dr. Tofu Ono considered himself a simple man. He enjoyed simple things– he loved gardening, pulling off small pranks, and playing drums for a local jazz band during the weekends. He loved his parents, who took him in as a child. And above all, he loved his job taking care of others just as his parents had taken care of him.
Still, he knew in his heart that there were things about him that were anything but simple. Simple men did not need to worry about reapplying waterproof soap every week. Simple men did not flinch away from water even as they yearned to feel it moisten their skin. Simple men didn’t lose almost all motor function, as though made foreign to all their limbs, when distracted. Simple men could not see the things Dr. Tofu could see, nor feel what Dr. Tofu could feel when bare skin met ground.
Nor, as it turns out, do simple men generally settle in Nerima ward. Case in point: Tofu’s latest repeat patient, Ranma Saotome, and their panda father. He’d clocked Ranma almost immediately as something, considering the odd way their qi largely flowed in a feminine manner except in a thin, masculine layer on the outside. And he’d ascertained at least part of that something when a girl who looked suspiciously like them passed by shortly after Tofu lent Akane a kettle of hot water. Their father, Genma, didn’t even attempt to hide his own curse– walking right up and handing Tofu a hastily scrawled resume while in panda form.
In some ways, their presence made Tofu feel more relaxed, more real. Here were two people who shared his burden, the burden of potentially having the comfort and familiarity of their own body ripped away at a moment’s notice. Although, after a few days of close observation it really seemed that Genma didn’t care one way or the other what form he was in at any given moment. Against his cautious nature Tofu had even begun leaving a hot kettle at the ready whenever Genma came to work, yet as often as not he could be found lounging around the clinic as a panda.
As for Ranma… Well, considering their qi flow Tofu had some particular concerns. He knew better than most what it meant to live in a body so unlike their birth form, and what it was like to prefer that form. Even if it was dealing with self-acceptance and periods rather than with entirely new limbs and senses, Tofu felt compelled to act. And so, after careful interrogation of Genma revealed he was absolutely not the person to go to, Tofu decided he needed to take drastic measures. He had to confront his greatest fear: the worm-hating she-devil herself, Kasumi Tendou.
He prepared exactly what words he needed to say, what pamphlets he would need to provide in order to get the demon to cooperate. Yet the second the door to the Tendou residence opened, he reverted. It was not Dr. Tofu, concerned chiropractor. No, It was It; with too many heads and tails and colors and a looping images of fuzzy slippers brutally crushing the wriggling Yin creatures that were It.
Its mouth, on autopilot, scrambled its script as its foreign appendages wiggled and sought to bury themselves deep in the comforting ground. “Kasumi! Ranma– Yin aura form is egg pamphlet!”
Its bottom appendages reached maximum wigglage and began to sift the dirt below at a steady pace. As the she-devil watched on, It disappeared into the fullness of the Earth leaving only a neat stack of pamphlets behind.
The she-devil tittered into her hand, “Oh Dr. Tofu, how silly of you… Oh, oh my!” The she-devil picked up the pamphlets and rushed back into the house.
<~~~~~~>
Despite Kasumi’s abhorrent opinion on annelids and other wonderfully wriggling things, Dr. Tofu had to admit that she was very efficient at getting results. His rousing speech and curated pamphlets must have done the job convincing her, even if he didn’t quite remember it, because he had Ranma calling for him from the clinic entrance before he’d even finished washing off the dirt from his latest burrowing.
Tofu quickly finished scrubbing the last bit of dirt from his skin, feeling a small sense of longing as the reminder of his former home slowly washed down the drain. He still felt a bit… worm-brained, for lack of a better term, but in the brief time he took washing off Ranma had transitioned from calling his name to furiously pounding on his bathroom door. With no time to spare, he threw on his clothing and walked to the door. Observing the qi flowing through their patient’s body, Tofu carefully timed the opening of the door so that he could catch Ranma’s fist in mid-flight. “Ah, good evening Ranma! What brings you by my clinic?”
Ranma glared up at him, teeth gritting as they stood in their masculine form. “What did’ja tell Kasumi, doc?!?”
“Oh! Well I… Hm…”, the doctor wracked his brain and was rewarded with a cold shiver as images of giant stomping shoes once again filled his head, “What did I tell Kasumi?”
Ranma ripped their arm from the doctor’s grip and pushed forward, forcing Tofu to retreat back towards his slowly draining bathtub. “You told Kasumi I’m some kinda– some kinda sissy! When I got back t’ the Dojo I saw her readin’ this!”
Dr. Tofu looked down at the pamphlet Ranma had shoved forward and skimmed over the title, ‘Tokyo Queer Alliance: Your Transexual Relative and You’. “Ah yes! I noticed the feminine nature of your qi and how you seemed to act in your different forms, and thought it prudent to inform Kasumi that, ah…”
“That you think I’m some kind of pervert? I don’t know what you think you saw, but I’m Ramna Saotome, Man amongst Men!”
“Please calm down! I just wanted to inform a…” he struggled to offer compliments to his most behated, “responsible adult in your life of the slight possibility, given available evidence, that you might be… Transexual.”
In spite of Dr. Tofu’s pleas Ranma did not, in fact, calm down. The rage gave way, just a bit, but was replaced with a cold edge of fear evident in the wildness of their glare and the shake of their voice, “Who else have you told?”
Tofu tilted his head to the side– it was a very human way of emoting, and he quite enjoyed it. “Pardon?”
“Who. Else. Have. You. Told!?”
Ah… the brainworminess drained away as Dr. Tofu began to piece together where he may have gone wrong. If Ranma didn’t want anyone knowing about her– their true form yet, if Tofu’s suspicions were correct… Well, Tofu had never told anyone that he had been– and sometimes still was– a worm, so he was in no place to judge. If he wanted to fix the mess he’d caused…
Leaning back against the bath, Tofu bowed his head in apology. “I’m sorry, Ranma, I should have consulted with you first. I didn’t tell anyone but Kasumi– I think.”
“You think?”
He frantically wiggled his hands in a placating motion, “No– I mean, I think I told Kasumi, I know I didn’t tell anybody else.”
With that, the wild mix of fear and anger slowly drained from Ranma’s body. “Yer tellin’ the truth, Doc? Nobody else knows?”
“On my License to practice Martial Arts Chiropracty, Acupuncture, Moxibustion, Bloodletting, Cupping, and Trepanation I swear it!” Tofu held a hand to his heart as he made his oath, but sagged when he saw the continued suspicion in Ranma’s eyes. It hurt not to be trusted– and especially for his degrees to be treated so lightly. It had taken him years to earn that trepanation license! Still, he could empathize since he himself was– Ah. The idea, once formed, wormed its way into his skull and burrowed into his brain.
“Ranma, if you swear not to tell anybody, I will show you my deepest, darkest secret. Something that I’ve never shown anybody else. I swear to you, I didn’t tell anyone but Kasumi about my suspicion and will never tell anyone else unless you give me your explicit approval. Since you want to keep it a secret– if I ever tell anyone then you can tell my secret, alright?”
Ranma stared at him for a few moments and Dr. Tofu refused to back down, continuing to meet their eyes. “Fine, I believe ya Doc.”
Dr. Tofu took a steady breath before pulling up the sleeve over his right arm. “That’s great, that’s wonderful Ranma…” As he spoke, he slowly began to scrape away a layer of waterproof soap with his fingers, “I think… I think you’ll find that I understand what you’re going through more than you’d expect.” His legs began to wiggle, and it took all of his remaining concentration to turn the water back on before he collapsed into the tub.
<~~~~~~>
When Dr. Tofu next came to, he was in a reverse of a much more familiar position. He was laid out across his clinic’s bed, while Ranma sat in an office chair directly to his side. Notably, in female form this time.
The redhead steepled their fingers as they leaned towards their ‘patient’. “So. You’re a worm.”
Tofu lifted his head to stare at them, “Yes, sometimes I suppose I am.”
“You, Dr. Tofu, licensed in Martial Arts… Things, are a worm.”
He furrowed his brow, “Yes, as we’ve already established, sometimes I am.”
Ranma briefly leaned back before returning to their previous position, this time motioning towards all of Tofu with both hands. “You, the guy ‘Kane has a crush on, are a worm.”
Now Tofu sat up fully and faced towards the redhead, “Oh! Huh, I didn’t know that. Once again, however, I am only sometimes a worm.”
Ranma shook their head, “No, no… I’ve seen a lot of crazy shit followin’ around Pops all my life, but you’re a worm.”
Dr. Tofu furrowed his brows, “Sometimes.”
“I know how the Jusenkyo curse works! You turned into a worm when hit with hot water– you’re a worm!”
Tofu stood up, a rare sense of fury overtaking him. “If I’m just a worm, then you’re just a man!”
Ranma stood up too, finger poking into Tofu’s chest as they matched him in fury, “NO I AIN’T, I’M A–”
A beat passed.
Then another.
“Oh.”
Ranma slumped back into her chair, cradling her head in her hands. Tofu took a moment to calm himself before approaching, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder and softly uttering, “Do you want to talk about it? As I said before, I might understand what you’re going through right now, at least a little bit.”
Tofu stood there like that, rubbing Ranma’s shoulder for a minute before a muffled response came through her hands. “I just… Me, girl– girl me, worm doctor. Doctor worm?”
“Ah? Doctor Worm is my stage name, actually.”
Ranma briefly lifted her head to glare at the doctor, before retreating once again into her hands.