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Happosai sat in the center of the dark dojo, uncharacteristically still.

Soun slid the door open, completely missing the diminutive master in the shadows. The second his eyes adjusted, he immediately pivoted on his heel to leave.

Thwack.

Happosai’s wooden pipe caught Soun square on the back of the head. Soun whipped around, glaring at the little goblin, but wisely clamped his mouth shut.

"Soun. Didn't see you there," Happosai purred. He held out a hand, and the pipe zipped obediently back into his palm. "Why are you here?"

Soun swallowed hard. The old man seemed to be in one of his rare, placid moods, but with Happosai, that was usually a trap. "I... I was just going to clean up the dojo for the morning class," he stammered, dropping to his knees to wipe at a speck of dust.

Happosai nodded slowly, puffing a thick cloud of smoke toward the rafters. "Beginners?"

A drop of cold sweat slid down Soun’s neck. If he lied and the master found out later, there would be hell to pay. "Women's self-defense," he admitted cautiously. "Just a trial class. Nothing that would interest you, Master."

Happosai hummed, his eyes distant. "Good for you. Hear that's a booming business these days. Wouldn't have worked back in my day."

Soun scrubbed the floorboards a little faster, eyeing the old man with mounting suspicion. The silence stretched, thick and heavy.

"Something on your mind, Master?" Soun finally asked, unable to bear the quiet.

Happosai didn't reply. He just stared at the wall. Soun scrambled to his feet, grabbing a nearby mop, desperate to look busy.

Just as the wet strings hit the floor, Happosai spoke.

"So. Remember when you tried to imprison me?" he asked in a faraway tone, as if reminiscing about an old tale.

Soun froze, the mop slipping from his grip. "It... it was Saotome's idea!"

Happosai's serene face instantly twisted into a furious scowl. "I meant last week, you idiot! When you tried to use that mirror to capture me!"

Soun blinked. The old man knew. Soun swallowed hard and gave a stiff, jerky nod. Yes, that had been all him. If it hadn't been for that rude mirror-version of Ranma, he would have gotten away with it, too.

He braced himself for the explosion, but it didn't come. "What... what about that, Master?"

Happosai giggled, the sound echoing unnervingly in the quiet dojo. "Relax, you crybaby. I'm not angry at you. I expect you to keep trying."

Soun stared at him. "You do?"

"Of course! If I were as petty as you think, don't you realize I would have simply slaughtered you and your family the moment I escaped from that cave you and Genma sealed me in?" Happosai snorted, puffing a thick cloud of smoke from his pipe. "Anyway... I was thinking."

"You were thinking," Soun repeated, leaning heavily on the mop handle. "That is rarely good news for us, Master."

"Yes, thinking," Happosai mused, flashing a wide, innocent smile that looked entirely too sweet to be trusted. "You know how that mirror-Ranma tried to banish little Akane?"

"I was there," Soun replied, a low, protective growl entering his voice.

"Well, imagine my surprise when I joked to the girl that we could be the mirror world's Adam and Eve... and then, she actually managed to beat me."

"You what?!"

Soun hurled the mop like a spear. Happosai casually swatted it aside, but Soun was already moving, launching his entire body at the diminutive elder. Soun brought his heel down in a vicious stomp, but his foot hit empty air. In the blink of an eye, a shadow fell over him, and a swift strike to the back of his knees sent Soun crashing face-first into the floorboards.

Happosai landed lightly on Soun’s back and crossed his legs, sitting down as if Soun were a cushion. "It was a joke, you idiot," Happosai chided. "She's like my own granddaughter. Do you really think so little of me?"

"Of course I do! Grandfathers don’t try to cop a feel of their granddaughters!" Soun roared. He twisted wildly, throwing a desperate punch over his shoulder.

Happosai simply shifted his weight. Soun’s momentum carried him completely out of control, and he was effortlessly launched across the room, slamming hard into the far wall.

Happosai sighed, dusting off his robes. "Whatever. The important thing is... who is training that girl?"

Soun grunted in pain, struggling to push himself up from the floorboards.

Rolling his eyes, the grandmaster strolled over. He reached out and tapped Soun rapidly twice on the spine. "There, you crybaby. Hitting those pressure points should boost your stamina."

Soun gasped, rolling away and springing to his feet. He frowned, his aches vanishing, replaced by a sudden, surging energy. He patted his chest in disbelief. "What was that?"

"Just a little trick I picked up in Thailand in the fifties," Happosai replied lightly. Then, his casual demeanor vanished, and his eyes sharpened. "Now... answer the question. Who is training little Akane?"

Soun sighed, rubbing his bruised jaw. "I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't trained her in years."

"So... Ranma, then?" Happosai wondered.

Soun shrugged helplessly. "Maybe? Wait, did she really beat you?"

"For a moment, at least." Happosai frowned, scratching his chin. "She grabbed the trash you pushed into the mirror. I don't know what she did with it, but one second, she was holding it, the next she was calling out an attack, throwing a punch, and then... I woke up, and the whole place was flooding with water."

Soun’s brow furrowed. "That sounds more like something Ranma would do than Akane."

Happosai giggled in agreement. The raspy sound made Soun's skin crawl.

"Do you think she's being possessed?" Soun asked, a cold dread pooling in his stomach as he recalled the cursed doll that had taken over his youngest daughter the previous month.

Happosai considered this for a moment, then shook his head. "Nah. I don’t think so. That was little Akane, all right."

"How can you tell?"

"Akane has been able to punch me to the next neighborhood since day one," Happosai stated matter-of-factly. "But she always lacked the ambition to take the next step in her art. I always thought she was a lot like you in that regard, wasted." He gave Soun a long, deliberate glare. "But it appears I was mistaken."

Soun stopped sweeping up the splintered wood, the insult stinging just enough to irritate him. "Okay...?"

"Okay? That's all you have to say, you moron?" The old man sighed dramatically. "Well, I know what we're going to do."

Soun suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to pack his daughters' bags and flee to a faraway continent.

"You're going to have little Akane teach that stupid class of yours," Happosai announced, pointing his pipe at Soun. "That way, I can see how she handles herself teaching people who barely know how to breathe properly, and you get a more popular class, because frankly, she’s far more personable than you."

Soun wasn't entirely opposed to the business side of the idea. However...

He dropped the broom, finding a rare ounce of backbone. "You are not going to watch my little girl teach a women's self-defense class."

"Relax, I'm fully charged!" The old man bounced up and down on his heels like an over-caffeinated toddler. "I won't need to look for pretties or touch sexy girls' asses for at least a week!"

"Right. No. I don't want you anywhere near tomorrow's class." Soun squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the master's explosive wrath.

Instead, he heard a sniffle. He opened one eye to see Happosai conjuring incredibly unconvincing, giant crocodile tears. "How disgraceful! My own student thinks so little of me!"

"I wouldn't think so little of you if you acted your age every once in a while!"

Happosai instantly dropped the tears, shrugging his shoulders with eerie calm. "Okay."

Soun stared down at the diminutive man, utterly unnerved by the sudden shift. "Just... okay?"

"Aren't you worried for little Akane?" Happosai asked innocently, completely ignoring Soun's attempt at authority.

"She's fine!"

"Well, maybe she's abusing another magical trinket that will end up cursing her. Or she's been training in secret under our noses and if she can get way with that, who knows what else she’s hiding from you? Or she's using drugs. Or she's possessed." Happosai raised a single finger with each hypothesis, driving them like nails into Soun's parental anxiety.

"You just said she wasn't possessed!"

"I said I think she isn't. But she might be!"

Soun gripped his hair, feeling his defenses completely crumble. "Fine! I guess she could teach the class." Happosai’s face split into a gleeful grin, prompting Soun to hastily point a stern finger. "But! Saotome and I will evaluate her. We will discuss our findings with you later. You will not set foot in this dojo tomorrow."

Happosai blinked, the picture of pure innocence. "Why not?"

Soun massaged his temples, fighting the urge to scream. The old man in a good mood was somehow vastly more exhausting than when he was in full, demonic, petty mode.

----

Dinner at the Tendo household was unusually quiet, save for the clatter of chopsticks. Kasumi smiled as she set a fresh platter of tamago in the center of the table.

"Akane," Kasumi asked gently, "tomorrow the market will have a huge sale, and we need to buy supplies for the rest of the month, would you mind picking up the groceries for me?"

Akane reached for a piece of egg, looking apologetic. "Sorry, Kasumi. I'm meeting my friends for tennis early tomorrow."

Soun set his teacup down with a heavy, deliberate clunk. "You will have to cancel those plans, Akane."

Akane blinked, her chopsticks pausing in mid-air. "Cancel? Daddy, they have been nagging me all week for this, I promised them. Why?"

"Because," Soun said, folding his hands on the table, "you will teach tomorrow's morning class. The women's self-defense seminar."

The table went dead silent. Akane stared at her father, completely torn. A fierce spark of pride flared in her chest. She had waited for years for him to respect her as a martial artist and trusting her with teaching a class was a big deal. But the sudden demand, delivered like an order rather than a request, made her bristle.

Next to her, Ranma leaned back on his hands, watching her waver. He knew that look. If she thought about it too long, she’d talk herself out of it, convincing herself she wasn't ready, or anchoring in the fact that her dad was just dropping the thing on her lap.

"Dad, you can't just spring this on me," she argued, her shoulders tensing. "I want to help, but I have a life!"

Ranma bit his tongue and decided that she needed a push, a tiny, gentle one.

"Yeah, Mr. Tendo, you better let her go play tennis with her girly friends," Ranma drawled, rolling his eyes. "I mean, look at her. She gets mad and next you know she might smash you with the whole table, she’s gonna scare those poor women worse than the perverts. They'd demand a refund."

Akane’s head snapped toward him, her eyes flashing with instant, fiery indignation. "Excuse me?!"

"You heard me, tomboy," Ranma said with a small smirk, leaning on it just enough to be push her buttons. "Self-defense takes patience. You'd probably just yell at 'em for doing the stances wrong."

"I am perfectly capable of being patient!" Akane slammed her hands on the table, leaning right back into his space. She shot a fierce look at her father. "I'll do it, daddy. And I'll be the best instructor this dojo has ever seen, just to prove this jerk wrong!"

"Jerk?!"

"You heard me!" Akane snapped, turning on her heel and storming out of the family room to call her friends and explain that she would not be able to play tennis with them.

As soon as the door slid shut, the manufactured annoyance melted completely off Ranma's face. A small, genuine, almost dopey smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. She took the bait perfectly. He felt proud of himself, and her, really.

"Wipe that goofy look off your face, boy," Genma grunted around a mouthful of rice, entirely misinterpreting his son's expression. "You aren't getting off the hook just because you're sitting there looking dumb."

Ranma’s smile vanished, instantly replaced by defensive panic. "What? Hey, I didn't say I was teaching a bunch of housewives!"

"You aren't," Genma stated, waving a chopstick at him. "You’re teaching Sunday morning. A fresh batch of first graders."

"First graders?!" Ranma yelled, leaping to his feet. "Are you kidding me, Pop?! I'm a martial artist, not a babysitter! I'm not wiping snot off a bunch of six-year-olds!"

"You will do as you are told!" Soun suddenly boomed.

Both Saotomes flinched, startled by the patriarch's sudden intensity. Soun looked between the two of them, his expression heavy with a sudden, deep sorrow.

"This isn't a joke, Ranma. These classes are the cornerstone of our new Neighborhood Outreach Program," Soun said, his voice thick with emotion. "I need you and Akane to take this seriously. Lately... the reputation of the Tendo Dojo has been in the gutters. We are seen as a hazard, not a haven. We need this to restore our honor in the community."

Genma looked away, coughing awkwardly into his fist.

Ranma slowly sank back down onto his cushion, the fight draining entirely out of him. He stared at his empty rice bowl.

A hazard.

Since he and his old man had crashed through the front gates, how many fences had been destroyed? How many weird martial artists, deranged rivals, and cursed fighters had tracked him directly to this house, tearing up the streets and terrorizing the neighbors?

He had done this. It was his fault Soun was demanding them to fix the dojo's name.

Ranma swallowed the sudden, heavy lump in his throat and looked away. "Yeah. Okay, Mr. Tendo," he muttered quietly. "Sunday morning. I'll do it."

The table fell quiet again, the heavy mood lingering over the half-eaten dinner. Ranma shifted uncomfortably on his cushion, unable to shake the crushing guilt settling in his chest. He looked across the table at the eldest Tendo daughter, who was quietly gathering the empty bowls.

"Hey, Kasumi?" Ranma asked, his voice lacking its usual boisterous edge.

Kasumi paused, looking at him with mild surprise. "Yes, Ranma?"

"Write me a list," he said, rubbing the back of his neck and staring pointedly at the floorboards. "I'll go grab those groceries for you tomorrow morning."

Kasumi’s eyes softened, a gentle, understanding smile gracing her lips. "Thank you, Ranma. You’re so sweet."

----

The early morning sun slanted through the paper windows of the dojo, casting long, golden rectangles across the freshly swept floorboards. Akane stood in the center of the room, adjusting the collar of her freshly pressed gi. She took a deep breath, letting the quiet stillness of the room settle her nerves.

“Phooey,” she said to herself, “relax, it’s a newbie class, you’re going to show that jerk that you can do it.”

"Who’s the jerk? By the way, you're gonna wear a hole in the floor if you keep fidgeting like that."

Akane jumped, spinning around. Ranma was leaning casually against the doorframe, hands stuffed into the pockets of his dark trousers, several canvas grocery bags slung over his shoulder. He wasn't looking directly at her, instead suddenly finding the ceiling beams fascinating.

Akane let out a breath and dropped her hands. "I wasn't fidgeting. I'm just... getting ready."

Ranma pushed off the doorframe and took a few slow steps into the dojo. He kicked at an invisible speck of dust on the mats. "Yeah, well. Don't sweat it too much. Just... don't yell at 'em  ladies, and you'll be fine."

Akane watched him for a moment. The morning light caught the awkward, tense line of his shoulders. Last night, his comments had infuriated her, but standing here now, in the quiet dojo, the reality of his tactic was glaringly obvious.

“Ah,” she said softly.

“What?” he said in that whiny tone he always used when someone caught him being an ass.

"I know what you did last night, you know," Akane said with a small smile tucking her lips.

Ranma stiffened, his eyes darting toward her before looking away again. "I don't know what you're talking about. I just spit facts, can’t help it if I’m an honest, humble guy."

"You were pushing my buttons." Akane took a step closer, her voice losing all its usual defensive edge. "You knew I was going to back out. You acted like a jerk on purpose, so I'd get mad enough to accept teach the class."

A furious, bright red flush crept up Ranma’s neck, reaching the tips of his ears. He crossed his arms defensively, scowling at the floorboards. "Don't get a big head about it, tomboy. I just didn't want to listen to Pop and your dad whine about the dojo all night, besides if you didn’t accept, they would have asked me to do it."

"Ranma."

He finally looked at her. Akane was standing right in front of him, her expression impossibly gentle.

"You're gonna do a good job," Ranma blurted out, the words tumbling out of him in a rushed, panicked breath. He immediately looked like he wanted to swallow his own tongue. "I mean... you know the basics. It'll be fine."

Akane smirked at him. It was unlike the competetive ones she showed him whenever she was winning an argument. It was completely disarming. Before Ranma could retreat, she reached out and took his hand. Her fingers were warm and calloused from years of training, wrapping gently around his.

Ranma completely short-circuited. He stared at their joined hands as if she had just handed him a live grenade.

"Thank you," Akane said softly, looking up into his wide, panicked eyes. "But why couldn't you have just said that from the start? You can be honest without being a jerk."

The redness on Ranma's face exploded into a full-blown crimson sunburn. His brain desperately searched for an escape hatch from this terrifying level of vulnerability. His eyes frantically darted to the canvas bags on his shoulder.

"Groceries!" Ranma yelled, his voice cracking an octave higher. He yanked his hand away, stumbling backward toward the door. "I got a ton of groceries to buy! Kasumi needs... uh... cabbages! Lots of 'em! Gotta go before the good cabbages are gone!"

Without waiting for a response, Ranma pivoted on his heel and bolted down the hallway, the loud thud of his hurried footsteps echoing through the house.

Akane stood in the center of the dojo, staring at the empty doorway. She looked down at her hand, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. She shook her head, turning back to the training mats.

"Stupid jerk," she murmured affectionately. They could finish that conversation later. Right now, she had to prepare to teach a class.

-----

A few hours later, the self-defense seminar wrapped up. Women of all ages lingered on the tatami, from girls younger than Akane to university students, busy housewives, and even a sharp-eyed grandmother. They crowded around Akane, eagerly asking questions, thanking her for the practical techniques, and wanting to know if she would teach again next week.

Akane blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the genuine enthusiasm. Unsure of the schedule, she glanced over toward the edge of the dojo. Soun stood there, beaming with absolute paternal pride, nodding vigorously.

Reassured, Akane’s face softened into a bright, confident smile. "I'd love to," she told the group. "I hope you all join me again next week."

The front hallway buzzed with the chatter of departing participants slipping into their shoes. The last two remaining, the elderly woman leaning lightly on a cane and her thirteen-year-old granddaughter, lingered by the edge of the tatami.

The grandmother stepped forward, her face crinkling into a warm, gap-toothed smile as she reached out to pat Akane’s arm. "I only came today to chaperone this one," the older woman confessed, gesturing affectionately to the teenager beside her. "I figured I’d sit on the sidelines and knit. But heavens... I haven't felt my blood pump like that since I was a young bride."

She chuckled, shaking her head in genuine awe, before turning her gaze toward the back corner of the room where Soun and Genma stood.

"And I must thank your father and uncle over there," the grandmother continued, raising her voice good-naturedly. "They looked positively terrifying lurking in the shadows like real alleyway thugs. They played the part of the villains so convincingly that when you swept their legs out from under them, it felt like we were watching a movie. You gave these girls a proper target to practice on!"

Soun offered a stiff, awkward chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck, while Genma crossed his arms and harrumphed, pretending to be a cool mysterious figure.

Akane offered a polite, strained smile, keeping her thoughts strictly to herself. They didn't have to act, she thought dryly, watching the two middle-aged men who were far too accustomed to being actual menaces to society. They've had years of practice.

As the pair headed out the sliding doors, the granddaughter whispered loudly to her grandmother, "Did you see her? Sensei is so cool."

Akane paused, catching the phrase over her shoulder. A soft, genuine blush dusted her cheeks as she smiled to herself. She hadn't felt cool in a long time.

Soun and Genma immediately set to work helping Akane sweep up the dojo, rolling up practice mats and gathering training weapons and props. As they tidied, the two fathers casually peppered her with questions about what she planned to cover in the next session.

Mid-sweep, Soun subtly elbowed Genma in the ribs. Genma rolled his eyes, cleared his throat, and looked over at Akane. "Say, Akane. You want to spar?"

Akane stopped wiping down a wooden post, eyeing the two older men with deep suspicion. "Why would you want to do that all of a sudden?"

"Well," Genma grunted, crossing his arms. "If you're going to take martial arts more seriously, you shouldn't lose your edge. That's why I'm constantly keeping Ranma on his toes."

Akane thought that Ranma would appreciate if the Panda stepped away from his toes for a minute or two, but she did appreciate Uncle Saotome’s words. It was odd, feeling seen in that way.

“Sure, I’d love to spar with you, uncle,” she said in a small voice.

Soun kept quietly tidying up the corner, pretending to be deeply fascinated by a broom as Akane and Genma stepped out to the center of the dojo.

The scuffle started fast. Genma threw a heavy, direct punch meant to test her reflexes. He was surprised when Akane moved with a sudden, fluid lightness and ducked under his fist. She took advantage of her position and sent a low kick at his shins that he jumped over.

Akane rolled away from a stomp that felt a tad too real, almost as if Genma was barely holding back.

She threw a barrage of punches and kicks at him, forcing him on the defensive to take several steps back.

Genma grunted in annoyance and send heavy meaty fist her way. It was so fast it could’ve been a lightning bolt. She vaulted off the floor, sailed cleanly over his massive fist, and landed smoothly behind him, gently tapping him twice on the back before he could turn around.

Genma froze, blinking in disbelief.

Soun tossed his broom aside and clapped his hands gently. "Alright, that's enough! You did wonderful, Akane. Why don't you go take a nice, relaxing bath? Saotome and I will finish cleaning up the dojo."

Wiping a light film of sweat from her brow Akane realized she smelled. She thanked Genma for the spar and hurried back to the house.

The second the sliding door clicked shut behind her, Soun turned to Genma, and said, “so, the master was right, she has improved, too much in too little time,” his expression dropping into one of intense scrutiny. “What do you think?”

Genma rubbed his stubbled chin, his brow furrowed in genuine uncertainty. "Her footing... She shouldn’t be that precise or fast. And she isn't being trained by anyone else. Her form is still strictly based on your style. Though..." He narrowed his eyes. "She did pick up some flashy footwork that reminds me of how Ranma loves to show off. That last jump and tap on the shoulder? Yeah, that’s him."

“Maybe he’s training her?”

“No, she’d have other tells. And if Ranma had trained her, she would have known how to abuse several openings I left for her.”

Soun grimaced, leaning on his broom handle. "So, you don't think there's anything sketchy going on? No demonic possessions? No weird magical potions?"

Genma shook his head slowly, frowning deeper. "I don't think so. But... we've seen her move with that exact kind of terrifying grace once before."

Soun stared at him blankly. "What are you talking about?"

"Think about it," Genma muttered, lowering his voice. "Is she wearing that cursed battle dogi under her clothes right now?"

Soun’s eyes widened slightly. He shook his head. "No. I returned that thing to the monks myself the moment Kasumi finished stitching the tears back together."

-----

Sunday morning in the Tendo dojo sounded less like a martial arts seminar and more like a playground riot.

Ranma stood at the front of the room, completely out of his depth. Half a dozen six-year-olds were running in opposite directions: one was attempting to scale a wall scroll, another was trying to get their hands at a bokken, and two more were locked in a fierce argument over whose turn was it to play with a Gameboy they had brought to the class.

"Hey! Sit down! Stop touching that!" Ranma yelled, a vein throbbing violently on his forehead as he tried to herd the chaotic swarm of children.

From the sidelines, Happosai, Soun, and Genma watched the disaster unfold.

Genma let out a heavy, disappointed sigh, muttered something about the honor of the Saotome school being dragged through the mud, and slipped quietly out the sliding door. A few moments later, a massive, round-bellied panda lumbered back into the dojo, holding a stack of signs.

Ranma glared at his father in animal form. "Oh, great, a fat panda, that's really going to help—"

He stopped short. The moment the giant panda executed a crisp, lightning-fast roundhouse kick that snapped the air, followed by an adorable, gentle flip, every single child froze in sheer awe. Gasps echoed across the tatami. Within seconds, the kids abandoned their chaos, swarming the panda with wide, sparkling eyes to stroke his impossibly fluffy fur.

Genma gave a silent, smug nod, holding up a sign that read: I'LL HANDLE CROWD CONTROL. YOU DO THE TALKING.

Groaning, Ranma rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Fine. Just keep 'em from eating the training equipment."

For the rest of the morning, the class ran surprisingly smoothly. Ranma called out the basic stances while Genma acted as a giant, silent jungle gym that the kids adored, gently nudging wandering kids back into line with a flick of his furry paw.

A few paces away, Soun leaned over toward Happosai, keeping his voice low. "Master... Genma has a hunch. Do you think Akane could be wearing some other magical garment in secret that's increasing her skills? Similar to the cursed battle dogi, I mean."

Happosai opened a hand fan and blew some air at his face. "Not likely, no. Did that monk leave any instructions besides how to destroy it?"

"Not really," Soun muttered, scratching his chin. "Just a few dire warnings about its ‘curse’ and a very hurried exit."

Happosai narrowed his eyes, a thoughtful scowl crossing his face. "Tell me, Soun... have you noticed Akane tripping over her own feet, dropping bowls, or acting like her usual clumsy self since she gave up the dogi?"

Soun paused, furrowing his brow as he mentally replayed the past week of household mishaps. "Now that you mention it... I don't think I have."

Before Happosai could press further, a sudden crash from the center of the mat shattered their conversation. Across the room, Ranma had apparently decided that the children were ready for advanced instruction and was attempting to demonstrate a guillotine kick on a thoroughly bewildered seven-year-old.

"What do you think you're doing, you clown?!" Happosai barked, his voice cracking like a whip.

With a blur of motion, the old master hopped onto the mat and brought his fan down hard against Ranma’s shin. Ranma yelped, hopping on one foot as Happosai shoved him aside and turned to the class.

"Listen here, you brats!" Happosai chirped, putting on a sickeningly sweet, grandfatherly voice. "We keep it to the absolute basics! No choking your classmates, no suplexes, and no breaking your necks before lunch!"

Ranma rubbed his bruised leg, looking down at the old man dumbly. "Man... they wanted to learn something cool..." he grumbled.

"Basics save lives, boy!" Happosai snapped before turning on his heel and sauntering back to Soun. The children groaned in unison, realizing they were stuck doing boring stretches after all.

Soun watched the master return, a suspicious look crossing his face. "Say, Master... it's not like Pantyhouse Taro came back and managed to use the Spring of Drowned Pious Man on you, right? Is that why you're suddenly acting like a safety inspector?"

THWACK.

Happosai’s fan connected squarely with Soun’s forehead, raising a smoking, throbbing lump instantly.

"I have always been deeply fond of children!" Happosai squawked indignantly, bristling with offense. He straightened his robes, smoothing down his collar before a smug, secretive grin spread across his face. "Regardless... I'll be testing Akane myself tomorrow."

With that final cryptic remark, Happosai turned and strolled out of the dojo, whistling a cheerful, mocking tune.

Soun rubbed his aching head with a groan and shifted his gaze back to the training floor. His blood ran cold. Genma had somehow completely abandoned his circus act and was currently attempting a flying double-leg takedown on Ranma over a pile of safety mats.

"Hey! Assistant!” Soun bellowed at Genma. “Stop assaulting the Sensei!" He leapt to his feet and sprinted toward the mat before the Saotomes would entirely forget they were supposed to teach an introductory class to first graders.

-----

The next day, the morning walk to Furinkan High School was accompanied by the bright, melodic sound of Akane’s giggles, which only made Ranma scowl harder.

"It wasn't funny," Ranma grumbled, kicking a loose pebble down the sidewalk. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets. "They made me look like a total amateur. The kids were literally using Pop as a bouncy castle while I was trying to explain proper footwork."

"It’s your first time teaching kids, Ranma," Akane said, still giggling behind her hand. "Next time, we can prepare a lesson plan together beforehand. That way there are no... complications."

"It wasn't a planning issue!" Ranma groaned. "Everything was fine until my old man took it as a personal insult when I used him as a practice dummy. I just wanted to show the kids how to hit a safety pad so they could at least throw one punch before they went home!"

Akane stopped walking, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Ranma... did you do something mean to your father?"

Ranma suddenly found the telephone wires overhead fascinating. He fidgeted, shifting his weight. “Mumble mumble.”

"I didn't hear that."

"I said," Ranma muttered quickly, "I might have used a variation of Bruce Lee’s one-inch punch. Which, you know, somehow bypassed the safety pad and hit pops straight on."

"Ranma!" Akane unslung her school bag and swung it at his head. "You know how petty he can get! Of course he attacked you!"

Ranma ducked the first swing easily and hopped over the second, landing lightly at her side. "Yeah, yeah. Honestly, I was more surprised by the old freak. Even though I was mad at him for making me look like an idiot in front of the brats, his pointers actually kept them from breaking their necks."

Akane softened, resting her bag on her shoulder. "Do you think Grandfather has finally decided to stop being a menace?"

"Doubt it," Ranma snorted. He fell quiet for a moment, the usual bravado draining from his posture. A faint pink dusted his cheeks. He rubbed the back of his neck, refusing to look her in the eye. "Look... Pop is bound to pull another stunt like that sooner or later. Even if the kids adore his fluffy panda routine, he's more of a hindrance than a help." He swallowed hard. "Could you... maybe be my helper next Sunday? I just... I feel better dealing with all those kids when you're around. If you want, I can help you with your classes too."

Akane’s eyes widened. A matching blush rushed to her cheeks at the rare, genuine compliment. "Ranma, I..."

Before she could finish the sentence, a small, blurry shape rocketed past them, leaving a trail of dust and fluttering lace.

"YAAHOOO!" Happosai cackled, a massive sack of stolen bras and panties slung over his shoulder as he bounded toward the school gates.

Ranma immediately pinched the bridge of his nose, the romantic tension shattering into a million pieces. "Never mind. Still a menace."

They sprinted after their grandmaster, arriving at the Furinkan gates just in time to see Happosai standing triumphantly atop the unconscious, twitching body of Tatewaki Kuno, who had (maybe) tried to defend the school's honor.

"Hey, you, old freak! Stay away from the school!" Ranma yelled, launching himself into the air, fist drawn back for a strike.

Happosai’s jovial demeanor shifted in aninstant. A dense, deep purplish aura flared around his tiny frame, taking the shape of a ten-foot-tall version of himself, his massive hand swatted Ranma out of the air like a fly.

Ranma plummeted toward the brick wall of the entrance. But before he could hit it, Akane pivoted on her heel, sliding smoothly under his trajectory. She caught him perfectly, absorbing the momentum with bent knees and a flawless stance.

"Happo-dai-karin!" Happosai cheered, tossing a cluster of cherry bombs directly at them.

Ranma instantly recovered, scooping Akane into his arms and leaping high into the branches of a nearby tree as the ground where they had just been standing exploded into smoke.

"I'm not here to test you today, boy!" Happosai called out, jumping up and down happily.

Ranma set Akane down on a safe branch, but a sudden pop of displaced air signaled the old man's arrival right next to them. With a casual flick of his wrist, Happosai struck Ranma squarely in the chest. A burst of force sent Ranma whirling backward out of the tree, crashing into the school's front steps.

Happosai turned his full attention to Akane.

Akane immediately dropped to the ground and into a low fighting stance. "Grandfather, what are you doing?"

Happosai grinned and hurled a lit bomb directly at her face.

Akane launched into a tight backflip, but out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Hiroshi and Daisuke frozen in terror right in the blast radius behind her. Mid-air, she twisted and kicked the tree sending herself towards the boys. At the last second, she managed to grab them by the collars of their uniforms and yanked them out of the way just as the bomb detonated, landing on her feet.

Happosai whistled, at her performance, but seemed to not be yet amused enough. He snapped his fingers, and the oppressive purple aura flared again, lashing out to swat her just as it had done to Ranma.

Instead of bracing for impact, Akane dropped incredibly low, sweeping beneath the arc of the attack. As she planted her feet to counter, a fierce, latent energy surged in her chest. She pushed it outward, instinctively trying to conjure her own battle aura to meet his.

Happosai's eyes widened in genuine surprise. He raised a hand to counter, but a furious yell echoed from above got to him before he could do anything.

"Leave Akane alone!"

Ranma descended like a meteor, driving both heels squarely into Happosai’s face. The impact sounded like a cannon shot, sending the grandmaster rocketing out of the school entrance, and soon, entirely out of the district, leaving a star-shaped twinkle in the morning sky.

Ranma landed lightly, chest heaving, his fists clenched as he checked the horizon.

Behind him, Akane calmly dusted off her skirt. She looked down at Hiroshi and Daisuke, who were tangled in a heap on the grass. "Hey. Are you two okay?"

"We're fine!" Hiroshi squeaked.

"T-thank you, Akane!" Daisuke stammered, both boys blushing furiously as they stared up at her in adoration.

Ranma immediately bristled, stepping between Akane and her swooning classmates with a fierce, territorial glare. "Alright, shows over! Get to class!"

As his friends scrambled away, Ranma fell into step beside Akane, walking toward the main building. He shoved his hands back into his pockets, shooting her a confused look.

"What was that all about?" Ranma asked. "Usually, you just yell at the old geezer and let me do the fighting unless he tries to perv on a classmate."

“Well, I couldn’t just stand there.” Akane frowned, adjusting her bag. "He wasn't trying to perv on anyone, Ranma. He didn't even look at the other girls. He was specifically trying to attack me."

“He said he wasn’t here to test me,” Ranma said with a frown.

Ranma stopped at the shoe lockers, his brow furrowing as he considered her words. The swatting attack, the precision bombs, the way Happosai had completely ignored Ranma after the first strike. It seemed too calculated for him, unlike his usual chaotic rampages.

Ranma stared out toward the gates where the old man had disappeared, a cold feeling of suspicion settling in his gut. What exactly was Happosai up to?

----

The peaceful afternoon atmosphere in the Tendo family room was instantly shattered when Happosai leaped out of the low table, kicking aside a plate of rice crackers.

"Pack your bags, you lazy freeloaders!" Happosai announced, striking a dramatic pose and pointing a tiny finger toward the ceiling. "Genma! Soun! Ranma! And little Akane! We leave before night is upon us for the ultimate secret training area in all of Japan! For generations, martial artists have whispered of this hallowed ground hidden deep within the treacherous mountains!"

“The mountains?” Ranma asked, eyeing the small man with ever increasing suspicion, if such a thing was possible. “And who are you calling lazy freeloaders, you geriatric parasite!?”

From across the room, Akane lowered a schoolbook, crossing her arms with a flat, unimpressed stare. "We have school tomorrow, Grandfather. We can’t just go to the mountains whenever you want. And why would you want me to tag along?" She narrowed her eyes, instantly assuming he was planning to splash Ranma and feel them up, or worse.

Happosai gasped, clutching his chest as if she had shot him with an arrow. He dropped to his knees, and massive, comically tragic tears began cascading down his cheeks.

"How disgraceful!" Happosai wailed, pounding his tiny fists against the table. "How could it be that little Akane thinks so little of grandfather? I was simply moved! Your brilliant performance as an instructor, and your fierce prowess as a protector this morning, it brought tears to my ancient eyes! Such magnificent fighting skills must be nurtured!"

Ranma, leaning against the doorframe, raised a skeptical eyebrow. He looked at the weeping grandmaster, wondering if the old freak actually thought he was fooling anyone with this stupid, obvious act.

But to Ranma's sheer horror, Akane’s defensive posture completely vanished. Her eyes widened, sparkling with sudden, overwhelming emotion. She immediately dropped to her knees beside the table, bowing her head in deep remorse.

"Grandfather, forgive me!" Akane cried earnestly. "I had no idea you were paying such close attention to my latest efforts! I would be honored to train with you!"

Ranma’s jaw unhinged. She bought it?!

Without missing a beat, Ranma marched across the room, hooked his arm tightly through Akane’s, and hauled her unceremoniously to her feet. He dragged her out into the hallway, ignoring her indignant squawks.

"Hey! Let go of me!" Akane protested, trying to pry his arm off.

"Are you nuts?" Ranma hissed, keeping his voice low as he checked over his shoulder. "Don't drop your guard around that old geezer! He's definitely plotting something."

Akane stopped struggling, a defensive pout forming on her lips. She looked away, rubbing her arm. "I just... I used to be completely paralyzed with fear whenever he used that dreadful purple aura. But this morning, I didn't freeze. I actually managed to fight him off. Even if it was mostly with your help, I felt... proud of how far I've come."

Ranma blinked. The instinctive, knee-jerk insult, You’re out of your mind, tomboy, he was toying with you, was right there on the tip of his tongue.

But he looked at her. He saw the vulnerable pride in her eyes, the desperate desire to be recognized as a true martial artist. He swallowed the insult, forcing it down.

"You did good today," Ranma said quietly, looking down at his sandals. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. "I, uh... I had a little talk with Daisuke and Hiroshi after school. And honestly... I'm glad you were there to pull them out of harm's way. The little freak could have sent them to the hospital."

Akane’s breath hitched. A soft, brilliant smile spread across her face, melting away all her lingering annoyance. "Ranma..." she started, her voice incredibly warm.

THUMP.

A small, heavy weight suddenly dropped from the ceiling beams, landing squarely on top of Ranma’s head.

"Of course she did!" Happosai declared proudly, sitting cross-legged on Ranma’s skull as if it were a meditation cushion. "It is the sacred duty of the martial artist to protect the weak and the defenseless!"

Ranma’s eyes twitched. The romantic tension evaporated, replaced instantly by boiling, murderous rage. He reached up, grabbed the old man by his robes, and held him directly in front of his face.

"You can't say that," Ranma roared, his teeth filed into furious points, "when you were the one trying to blow the students up in the first place!"

----

The "ultimate secret training area hidden deep within the mountains" turned out to be a neighborhood park, barely three blocks from the Tendo Dojo.

Ranma stood at the edge of the sandbox, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, staring flatly at a massive, poorly filled crater in the grass. Beside it, a large oak tree leaned at a dangerous, splintered angle. It was the same tree Akane had smashed him through during the Battle Dogi incident.

"This is the same park," Ranma deadpanned, glaring down at the diminutive grandmaster. "What's the big idea dragging us out here?"

Happosai waved a dismissive hand, entirely unbothered. "The establishment I originally intended to take you to is closed on Mondays. We will go another time. But the fresh air here is as good a place as any for a nice training exercise!"

Akane pulled her collar up, looking around anxiously. The last time they fought here, they had caused massive collateral damage. She had caused massive collatreal damage. "I just hope no one recognizes us," she muttered.

Happosai strolled over to the splintered oak tree, stroking his chin. "My, my. I wonder what kind of brute would do such a terrible thing to nature?"

Akane’s face burned bright red.

"Just spit it out, you old freak!" Ranma snapped, losing his patience. "What are we doing here?"

A few yards away, Soun was sitting on a bench. He let out a heavy, dramatic sigh. "What we are doing, Ranma, is conducting a more thorough evaluation of Akane's skills." He rose and they heard a wet squelch.

Ranma facepalmed, seeing the sign behind Mr. Tendo that clearly stated that the bench had been freshly painted.

Ignoring the paint seeping into his pants, Soun struck a battle stance. "Prepare yourself!"

"Wait, what are you—"

Ranma didn't get to finish. Genma launched himself from the top of the jungle gym, plunging toward them with a booming battle cry.

Ranma reached out to grab Akane and pull her out of the way. But his hand grasped empty air. He blinked.

Akane was already darting towards her own father.

She had seamlessly stepped inside Soun’s guard. Before the older man could blink, Akane launched a flawless, rising jump-kick that connected squarely with his chin.

Ranma snorted in amusement, throwing his elbow up just in time to block the wild, sweeping punch from Genma.

Across the grass, Soun rolled barely avoiding being stomped by his daughter, grabbed the still-wet bench and threw it at Akane. She pivoted gracefully and let the bench fly harmlessly mere inches away from her face. She then proceeded to grab her father and hurl him whirling through the air. Soun crashed headfirst into a second, highly unfortunate oak tree, that snapped cleanly in two.

FWOOSH.

A cluster of lit cherry bombs sailed through the air, aimed directly at Akane's feet.

"Akane!" Ranma yelled, twisting to intercept. But Genma tackled him from behind, pinning Ranma’s arms in a cheap hold.

The bombs detonated in a blinding flash. Smoke billowed across the grass.

"Is this part of the test, Grandfather?!" Akane coughed, leaping out of the smoke cloud. Her sleeve was singed, nursing a minor first-degree burn on her forearm, but her footing was steady.

Happosai hummed thoughtfully, packing his pipe. "Ranma would have dodged that completely." He flicked his wrist, sending a second volley of explosives right at her.

This time, Akane was ready for the attack and vaulted over another park bench, utilizing a tight sequence of backflips that carried her cleanly out of the blast radius.

Happosai’s face lit up with genuine delight. "Excellent! Again!"

"Are you crazy?!" Ranma roared. He finally bucked Genma off, spun around, and grabbed his father fiercely by the collar. "Why are you letting that old geezer rain bombs on her?!"

"Because she kept her unlocked potential from the Battle Dogi!" Genma yelled back, struggling against Ranma's grip. "The Master knows she was on par with you while wearing it! He has decided he likes Akane better as his new heir!"

Akane froze, dropping her fighting stance to stare at Happosai in disbelief. "But... you explicitly told us that a girl couldn't be your heir!"

Happosai shrugged casually, puffing a cloud of smoke. "It is 1992, little Akane. I might as well get with the times."

“You morons,” Ranma said, punching his father and grabbing him by the collar in a chockhold. “She didn’t keep no unlocked potential!”

“She didn’t?” Asked Soun, still seeing stars.

"I trained, idiots" Akane yelled, her fists clenched at her sides.

Ranma released Genma's collar, leaped into the air, and brought his fists down in a brutal, simultaneous double-bonk on both Genma's and Soun's heads.

"And you went with whatever the old geezer wanted?" Ranma yelled. "She asked me for help! We've been training together every morning since she realized how much potential she was wasting!"

Soun rubbed his throbbing head, glaring weakly at Genma. "I told you Ranma was involved! You insisted he wasn't!"

"If the boy had trained her, she would know counters to all my attacks!" Genma argued stubbornly.

Ranma’s eye twitched. He jumped straight up and came down, planting both his feet squarely on Genma’s bald head. "You absolute moron!" Ranma yelled, bouncing up and down like a pogo stick until his father’s eyes finally rolled back into his head and he collapsed into the grass.

A bright blush dusted Akane’s cheeks. She looked away, a small smile playing on her lips. "Ranma still refuses to actually hit me while sparring," she admitted. "It's pretty hard to learn counters to attacks he never sends my way."

She shot Ranma a playful, teasing tongue-out. Ranma flushed, immediately sticking his tongue out right back at her.

Happosai let out a loud, profoundly disappointed sigh, his pipe drooping from his mouth. "So... it was just… hard work?"

Akane nodded proudly.

Happosai yawned, stretching his arms over his head. "How incredibly boring. I was delighted thinking you had improved using underhanded, cheating methods. Ah, well. I suppose you are both my disciples now. You are given leave to assist me on my next panty raid. It is bound to be a spectacular haul this Friday."

Ranma and Akane locked eyes. They didn't need to say a single word.

Moving in perfect sync, they rushed the grandmaster and delivered a devastating, synchronized double kick that launched Happosai screaming into the stratosphere, vanishing into the clouds with a distant ding.

The walk back to the dojo was slow and quiet.

Ranma had Genma by the ankle, dragging him face-first along the pavement. Akane had Soun by the collar, pulling his paint-stained body along beside her.

"I am definitely not helping Grandfather do that," Akane said, breaking the comfortable silence. She shot Ranma a sideways glance. "Do you do it?"

Ranma’s head twirled toward her, his face flushing with instant, betrayed anger. "You know I don't!" he snapped. Then, seeing the teasing spark in her eyes, he scowled and looked away. "Very funny."

He looked down at the two unconscious fathers leaving twin trails in the dirt behind them. He sighed, the anger leaving his shoulders. "They could have just asked us, you know. It's not like we were trying to hide the fact that we were training."

Akane looked at him intently. The bravado was gone, replaced by a rare, quiet maturity. She nodded softly. "I agree. Everyone should try to just communicate with words a little more often."

Ranma rubbed his nose, pointedly looking straight ahead to avoid her gaze, though the tips of his ears were burning red. "Yeah, well. Anyway... about Sunday's class. I was thinking, if we use the pads for a relay race, it might burn off some of the brats' energy before we try to teach them some stances."

Akane’s smile widened, bright, and genuine. She stepped a little closer to him as they walked and intertwined her fingers with his. "That's a great idea. We could even set up an obstacle course and..."

Down on the pavement, entirely ignored by their children, Soun and Genma cracked one eye open. Despite the lumps on their heads and the paint on Soun's pants, the two patriarchs exchanged a secret, triumphant grin.

The schools, they thought happily, are totally going to be united.