Work Text:
The Perfect Wish
A Ranma ½ fic
Any and all C+C is appreciated.
All of my fics are stored at ff.net or AO3
I do not own the rights to any of the Ranma characters.
Writer’s notes: This one is going to be a shorter one. It takes place a day before Kunou was to get the Wishbringer sword.
And away we go…
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Shampoo went up the mountain trail on her bicycle, annoyed. Yes, the entire point to a Chinese take-out restaurant was that they delivered take out, but this temple was the epitome of ‘out of the way.’ Still, she was a professional, and would see her mission through to its end.
She arrived at the temple, passing a sword in a stone on the way to the main gates on the grounds. It appeared the Japanese were as strange as the British with their propensity to drive useful weapons deeply into large minerals, rendering them useless. To their credit the British did have fabulous tea.
One of the monks who was sweeping outside paused as he saw Shampoo pull to a stop. He rested the broom next to a pillar and approached with the money. As he accepted the food and paid for it, he announced to the others their meal delivery. Other monks appeared and approached to receive their victuals.
“What that sword doing there?” she asked as she finished handing him the delivery.
“That’s the wishing sword, Wishbringer,” he explained. “Anyone who draws it gains three wishes. Why not give it a try?”
Shampoo rolled her eyes at the silly story. Magic mirrors that created evil duplicates of you, or ghost cats, those were believable. But wishing swords? It reeked of a scam. “Is there charge for it?”
“It’s free,” he assured her.
She dismounted the bike and walked up to the stone as the food was continued to be passed around to the individual monks. She placed her hand on the hilt and pulled.
The sword came out easily in her hand.
Yep, scam.
Then a banner unfurled with the declaration, “Congratulations! You are the 1,000,000 contestant! You win the sword!”
Now Shampoo became excited. This was like all those contests she entered where, by random chance, you could win a prize. She knew how probabilities worked, and if you entered enough of them you would eventually win one of the grand prizes, and it had finally happened.
They said three wishes, a detail consistent in many stories, which meant it might be a tradition and added validity to it. She knew what she wanted more than anything, and it was a simple wish. “Shampoo wish her cat curse disappear forever.”
It would be simple enough to test if it worked or not. She asked one of the monks, who surrounded her in congratulations for pulling the sword, for a small amount of cold water. One went into the temple and returned with it.
*Splash*.
Still the same delightful Amazon she had been before being doused, sogginess notwithstanding. They were real! Now it was time for a second wish.
“Shampoo wish to be financially stable for rest of life.” She’d been in the food industry far too long, and seen the economic ups and downs, to be anything other than worried about having enough money to make ends meet during hard times, which always came. She didn’t want to be greedy, but she wanted enough money for food, clothing, and a roof over her head at all times.
Nothing happened.
This was cause for concern. She had assumed money would magically appear before her. Was there something wrong with the sword, or something wrong with the wording of the wish? Since it seemed all was not as straightforward as she first thought, Shampoo decided to consult with her great-grandmother.
She placed the sword on her back and pedaled off.
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Upon returning to the Nekohanten, Shampoo burst into the restaurant, sword in hand. “Great-Grandmother! Shampoo have big news.”
Cologne walked to her and informed her great-granddaughter, “So have I. You won a major prize in one of those contests you enter. And here I thought they were all fake, and you were wasting your time.”
“What was prize?” she asked, trepidation in her voice.
“6 million yen a year for the rest of your life,” she revealed. “That’s not enough to retire on, so don’t let it go to your head. You’re still working here.”
“Yes! Shampoo achieve financial stability, just like she wish!”
“We should all be so lucky,” Cologne said, and considered entering those contests herself.
Shampoo shook her head. “No, was literally magic wish from this wish granting sword.” She held it before Cologne and explained the situation.
Mousse joined them upon hearing her declaration.
“You only have wish left, so use it wisely,” Cologne warned.
Shampoo nodded eagerly. “Shampoo wish for Ranma’s he--.” She stopped and slapped a hand over her mouth.
“What’s wrong?” Cologne asked at the odd behavior.
“Not making wish,” she said to the sword. “Shampoo realize might have worded that badly. If say want Ranma’s heart, it might give literal heart rather than figurative.”
Cologne nodded sagely. “Make sure the wording is precise for such a delicate matter.”
Mousse gave an enthusiastic, “I know what you can wish for. You can wish for the clarity of vision to return the love of the man who loves you more than anyone else.” He smiled hopefully.
Shampoo scowled. “Or would wish for Mousse to permanently shut—.”
Slapping a hand across her mouth, Cologne warned, “Perhaps we should use a word other than ‘wish’ until you actually want to make it.”
“Aiya,” Shampoo let out quietly, realizing how close she had come to blowing it. If she truly wanted Mousse silent forever, she could cut out his tongue and not waste a wish.
“Desire would be a good substitute,” Mousse provided.
Shampoo nodded. Mousse might have been an idiot, but was like a living thesaurus when it came to using words similar to one another, thus proving everyone had a talent that was potentially useful. Now she put her mind to it. “Maybe Shampoo should ‘desire’ Ranma marry Shampoo.”
“That would be a terrible wish!” Mousse shouted.
“Shut up, Mousse. Shampoo is using wis-- ‘desire’ to get airen no matter what,” Shampoo warned.
“No, I mean it really is terrible,” he explained, “Just because you’re married to him, it doesn’t mean he’ll love you. You could end up with the wish forcing him to be married to you rather than him wanting it, and him being miserable, which would make you miserable.” What Mousse was really concerned about was if she was married to Ranma, it meant Mousse wouldn’t be married to her, but the warning applied.
“He makes a good point,” Cologne acceded.
“So word desire to have Ranma love Shampoo,” she suggested.
Cologne considered the idea. “I see an issue with that, and any other along the lines of making Ranma change. Any sudden shift on the part of Ranma’s emotions toward you, like him suddenly declaring his love for you, with no reason, will make everyone suspect you’ve used magic on him to make him feel that way.”
“Why people think that?” Shampoo asked.
“Hypnotic Mushrooms. Red Thread of Fate. Love Pill Bracel--.”
“Shampoo get point,” she said tersely. It was true. They would suspect magic was involved, and someone might try to break the wish. Shampoo had no idea of how powerful the magic was, so the possibility of it being easily broken existed. “Could make all other girls disappear.”
“Again, suspicious, and points the finger toward you for being the only one left.”
Shampoo pulled at her hair in frustration. “Why something that sound so simple on surface be so hard? How can Shampoo get Ranma to love her?” And then the wish she needed to make struck. She thought about it from every angle, trying to see an issue, and coming up with none. It wouldn’t affect Ranma directly, so no one could accuse her of magically manipulating him, while it would get him no matter what.
“Shampoo know what wish to make!” And before Cologne could say anything, Shampoo spoke. “Shampoo wish to be Ranma’s ideal girl.”
The Amazon suddenly felt different. She wasn’t sure how, but she did. She turned to see both Cologne and Mousse looking at her in mute, wide-eyed wonder.
“What is it?”
Cologne, still wide-eyed, said, “Mousse, get Shampoo a mirror.”
Likewise still in shock, he silently retrieved one, then handed it to Shampoo.
She took a look in it.
“Seriously?”
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Ranma returned to the Tendou home alone, feeling pretty good about himself. He beat Ryouga in a fight, got a free meal off Ukyou, and had no run ins with stray cold water. Life was pretty good.
Then he saw Cologne waiting for him outside the home. Oh well. He knew things had been too good to be true. “What is it now, Old Ghoul?”
“I have grave news concerning Shampoo that affects you.”
Seeing her so solemn, Ranma took the matter seriously rather than making a quip. “What happened?”
“Believe me when I say you need to witness it firsthand to understand the full impact.” She indicated the pair should enter the house.
The duo did so, passing a wide-eyed Kasumi and Nabiki, who almost seemed to be afraid of something. This really wasn’t good if it affected both of them that drastically. Ranma braced for the worst.
Cologne led him to the dojo, the door leading to the inside of it closed. “Prepare yourself.” And she slid open the door.
Ranma looked and drew back in horror. There was Akane.
And there was a second Akane.
The only noticeable difference between the two was one was dressed in a cheongsam while the other was dressed in normal school clothes. The pair stood opposite one another in identical poses, their foreheads touching, with mutual looks of rage. It was a silent deadlock.
Ranma gasped. “Shampoo doused herself with Akaneiichuan?”
Cologne shook her head sadly. “Far worse: she wished she was your ideal woman.”
“Then why does she look like Akane?”
That broke the deadlock as twin looks of fury redirected their way to Ranma. A moment later he received identical right crosses that punched him into a wall.
Akane shouted, “Do you think I want to her to look like me?!”
Shampoo shouted in a voice that was identical in every way, “Do you think I want to look like her?!”
They added, “And what about that wish? I’m/Akane is supposed to be your ideal girl and you treat me/her like this? I don’t even want to be engaged to you anymore, jerk!”
Ranma peeled himself out of the wall and looked at them in sheer, naked terror. Their postures were identical, mirror images of one another save the clothing. They were now synchronized. He could barely handle one Akane, but two? He’d never survive.
He was doomed.
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[End fic.]
Just a humorous thing that occurred to me.