Chapter 2: The Move

"Saotome Ranma! Prepare to Die!"

The voice echoed and rebounded off of the walls of the narrow passageway. Ranma shucked his pack and dropped into one of his standard loose battle stances. His eyes darted about the suddenly endangering corridor. His subconscious was working overtime assessing the situation at hand. In fact, if a person could, for a short period of time, hear the inner workings of the amazing piece of the analytical engine so focused on warfare, that person just might hear something like the following.

Which was exactly what was going on in the sub-consciousness of Saotome Ranma at that moment. Whoever said Ranma never used his head for anything but a battering ram never fought him, either with or against. Back to the moment, though.

Ranma snatched his pack back up, swinging it back onto his back, then lifted Nodoka up off the ground into his arms.

"It’s ‘bout time we’re getting outta here, Okaa-san."

"Saotome Ranma! You are a man among men! You will NOT run away from a honorable death in battle!"

"’Honorable death in battle’?! Hell no I wouldn’t run away! But, in case ya haven’t noticed, there ain’t no opponents here to honorably kill me! This ain’t ‘honorable death in battle’, Okaa-san! This is dishonorable, sneaking around, belly-grubbin’, cowardly scum trying to blow my ass up! And yer’s to if ya didn’t notice! So we’re getting outta here!"

With that, Saotome Ranma leapt high into the air, alighting lightly in a perfect two-point, running landing on the roof of the building next to them. He promptly ignored gravity as he leapt once more. Seven roofs, and several blocks away, a brilliant explosion lit the Nerima sky.

"That was close…"

Ranma and Nodoka finally set down in an alleyway within the realm of the Juuban District. Setting Nodoka on her feet, Ranma lightly dusted himself off, then reached around and tugged a foot long chunk of shrapnel out of his back pack. Finally noticing it, he tossed it off to the side with a shrug. Seeing this, Nodoka’s mood visibly improved.

"Well, we’re here, I guess. Sorry about the trip, Okaa-san. It woulda been slower, but I hadda get ya outta there."

"It is of no consequence, my son. We have arrived, and certainly faster than I had originally thought."

Ranma chuckled, rubbing the back of his head lightly, before setting off.

**********

It was the end of the alleyway, not the alleyway itself which caused the problem for the juvenile martial artist and his mother. Lounging about there were six of the unsavory types that Ranma generally scorned and Nodoka avoided. Crimson Dragons, judging by the similar tattoo which embellished their bared forearms.

"Eh? Lookit what we got here, boys!" chuckled the apparent leader, a tallish Asian with a Mohawk hair-style and red leathers. "A couple a prizes what walked into our backyard!"

Ranma had dropped his pack as soon as he had spotted the Dragons. He didn’t need the extra weight slowing him down. None of them probably had anywhere near the skill or power he had, but they definitely won the numbers racket. He dropped into his favorite stance and appeared to relax slightly.

"Give us all yer yen, kid, and we might think ‘bout lettin ya live!"

"And what if I don’t wanna?"

"We’ll jest take it from ya! Get ‘em!"

As the foolish Dragons rushed her son, Nodoka stood back and watched with a smile. There was simply nothing which made the mother so proud as watching her son beat the living stuffing out of street punks. Ranma was in his element here. The alleyway was so narrow that only three of the punks could get to him at a time. With only five of the six attacking, they were severely limited as to their attacking ratios to three on one, then two on one. As it was, the first three that rushed him, were new recruits that never fought in a gym, let alone the winner-takes-all world of the street battle. They did have the distinction of lasting two minutes against one of the world’s premiere martial artists before well placed blows sent them reeling into the world of unconsciousness, at least.

The next two that came at him were understandably wary. They had just watched three of their members get creamed by a boy. Butterflies whipped out of sheaths and pockets and whirled their clever circles about the hands of their owners before popping blade out into the palm. Thus armed, the two would-be robbers advanced cautiously towards the smiling combative virtuoso. Ranma just let loose one of his patented lady-killer smiles and watched their distinctive sidling stride as they advanced. They were obviously blade brawlers, their silky smooth handling of the twin blades in their hands and step-cross-step way of moving, occasionally shifting weight and grip as they walked to keep balanced and dry palmed. As they came within range, Ranma’s eyes narrowed, then he struck. A spinning roundhouse followed immediately by an eagle fisted right hook to the left temple eliminated the first of two. Normally, this would scare off the other opponent, but this time he just gulped dryly and kept coming.

Ranma didn’t care for this in the least. First fisting his hands so tight the knuckles cracked audibly, he then suddenly relaxed into a low crouch. A loose, empty hand flew towards his attacker’s throat, while the other, fisted lightly, zoomed into the gut. Right before striking, the fist clenched tight, and the man folded around his hand. He would have flown off, but a firm grip on his neck ended that thought. Ranma stood, and tossed his defeated opponent aside negligently.

His face was void of emotion. He hadn’t wanted to be forced to such levels of violence on the poor jerk who had attacked him, but he wasn’t angry with him. He was angry with the leader. The man who was at this moment aiming a gun at his head. Most intelligent people would realize that Ranma Angry was not a thing to point a gun at. Unfortunately, this man was neither intelligent or most people. No, this was an idiot with a gun. A dangerous combination. And Saotome Ranma was NOT in the mood for dangerous combinations OR idiots, with guns or not.

Ranma blurred. Using the Kashuu Tenshin Amigurken speed technique on his legs instead of his arms increased his running motion ten-fold. The leader never knew what hit him. Oh, well, I suppose he knew, but he certainly didn’t realize it at the time. It probably felt like a 18-wheeler after all.

Ranma stood over his crushed adversary without even a hint of the levels he had just gone to evident, grinding the illegal pistol to fragments under his foot. He glared about, but when no further hint of danger met his roaming gaze, he relaxed. Turning to his mother, he smirked. She applauded.

"Jeez, Okaa-san! It wasn’t that good!"

**********

Two and a half hours later, Ranma was a girl and they still hadn’t reached the house. The buxom, carmine tressed girl trudged along under the weight of her pack and, by this point, her mother’s pack as well. She wasn’t too thrilled about the idea of carrying it all for much longer. Besides, from the looks of things, they were edging back out of Juuban.

"Uh, Okaa-san? Not to be disrespectful or nothin’, but do ya know how to get home?"

"Oh yes, son. I asked this nice, young traveler when you were yelling at poor elderly woman who splashed you."

Ranma-chan visibly blanched at the thought of her mom talking to a ‘nice, young traveler’.

"Um, Okaa-san? By any chance did this ‘nice, young traveler’ have a big pack on his back with an umbrella?"

"Um, yes… yes, I believe he did."

"He wasn’t, by any chance, wearing a yellowish tunic thingie, dingy brown pants, and a yellow and black bandana, was he?"

"Yes, and he had the most adorable little fangs!"

"Oh no."

"What is it, son?"

"Ryouga."

"Ryo-who?"

"Ryouga. I knew him from school when I was little." She winced, "I really wish you hadn’t gotten directions from him, Okaa-san."

"And why not, son?"

"Ryouga couldn’t find his way outta a paper bag with a knife, if ya get my drift."

"No, son. I am afraid I do not."

"Ryouga gets lost."

"That is no reason to be rude."

"No, ya don’t get it! Ryouga gets lost! I mean, he can’t read a map! If you tell him which way, he goes the other way! He can get lost trying to find the bathroom, for crying out loud!"

"Well, why did you not say so earlier, son?"

"I did. Now, can you please tell me the address so I can find it on this map?"

**********

It had taken them over six hours of travelling and stopping for direction, but they had triumphed! Finally, Nodoka’s ancestral home stood, or rather loomed, before the pair in the street outside the gate.

"*That’s* your house?!"

"Our house, son. And soon, yours and Ak… your wife’s, whom ever she may be."

"I never realized it was so… so… big."

"That is alright, son. The Hino Residence deserves such eloquence."

"Hino?! I thought this was the Saotome Residence!"

"Hino is my maiden name, son. Saotome… that is your father’s…"

"Hino, huh? Hey! That’ll work out great! I can be Hino Ranko!"

"You may have a problem there, son. There are other family members in the area, who would know that you are not a Hino. It is best that you continue on as Tendo Ranko, for this time. Or Saotome Ranko, if you wish a change."

"Uh.. ok, Okaa-san."

"Now, why do we not enter the house and leave the street? There is hot water available in the kitchen, first room to the right as you step from the entryway. Or the furo, first room past the main stairs on the second floor. Your room is upstairs, third on the left. I shall be in the garden."

With that, the pair entered and then split off to their separate paths. Ranma-chan leapt up the stairs, two at a time, and dumped her pack in the third room on the left, and her mother’s two doors down. Another brief jaunt into the unknown brought her to the furo, and a waiting tub of steaming water.

She washed quickly, then lowered her aching body into the sweltering water. Seconds later, Ranma, male again, relaxed against the back of the furo.