Side Story #1-A
A Ranma ½ - Sailor Moon crossover story
Disclaimer: Ranma ½ and its characters and settings belong to Rumiko Takahashi, Shogakukan, Kitty, and Viz Video. Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon belongs to Takeuchi Naoko, Koudansha, TV Asahi, and Toei Douga, and DIC.
And right on the last phrase of the incantation,"—Achooo." Ranma's eyes flew open and he screamed in pain as reality, several million realities actually, fought over his tiny bit of energy and substance.
I sat up, rubbing my temples in an attempt to diminish the pain behind my eyes. Opening them was out of the question. In my present condition, light would be to my brain like salt on an open wound. Ugghhh, how could I have sneezed at that exact moment? Hell, how was I alive?
A misfired or misspoken spell could be painful, dangerous, and crippling, but a misdirected transdimensional jump… that could have been fatal, fatal as in my body being broken down into its constituent particles and flung across the multiverse. Well, I'm alive, if not currently enjoying my situation, so I should be happy. Okay, I'm happy to be alive, but that's about it.
"RANMA, PREPARE TO DIE!!!!" The exclamation was loud enough for me to hear through ringing ears, and I could just barely place the voice. Ryoga. That psychotic loser, what was he doing here? The little piggy bastard is gonna pay for messing with me this time, especially after I can see again.
Sight might be beyond me, but magic wasn't. I began manipulating forces, realizing now that whatever world I was on had an absolutely pitiful ambient magic level, in preparation for a quick teleport. Without visual aide, and in a universe not familiar to me, there was only one place to go, and that was up.
"Ah, shut up, P-chan! Why don't you go play with the piggies, P-chan?" That voice was even more unmistakable than Ryoga's. It was mine! I killed the impending teleportation and redirected the energies already primed into a healing spell. I wasn't injured, exactly, but the residual pain of the mis-jump likely fell under the heading of trauma
Wherever I rested the ground was grassy and either the sun had set or I was under shadow, for there was none of the slight heat of the sunlight on my now hypersensitive skin. Trying to make myself comfortable, I pulled a twig from beneath the small of my back and waited for the nearby drama to fold out.
"Damn it, Ranma, don't call me P-chan!!!" Chi flared and I could sense the crude emotional energy blast as it streaked towards my other self. The trademark depression of Ryoga's attack met with supreme confidence as the other Ranma responded with an attack I myself hadn't used in at least ten years. Why wasn't this version of me more proficient with his power?
The explosion of energies losing focus and containment washed over me and I felt the hairs on the back of my arms tingle. They may be ignorant, but neither lacked force. "That all ya got, P-chan?" Other-Ranma taunted. Grinning to myself, I listened as Ryoga cursed and built up another powerful chi strike. Anger along with depression fueled this one, and it must have generated a spectacular amount of heat because I could feel it on my skin like a slowly growing fire. The attack was fast and powerful and I found myself momentarily worried for myself, as strange as that sounds.
Never fear, we Ranma's are too tough to handle. With more skill than I'd come to expect, my counterpart created an emotionally dead, bitterly cold beam of corkscrewing energy. I nodded in appreciation as the corkscrew wound its way into and around Ryoga's attack. Ooh, nice, a very practical variation of the hiryu shoten ha. Heh, poor Ryoga never knew what hit him, as cyclonic winds along with eddies of blistering heat and bone-numbing cold slammed into him.
"ARRGGHH!!!" Yeah, that probably did hurt a little bit. "I'll get you for this, Raannmmaaaa!!!" The cry, though fierce, decreased in strength as Ryoga was sucked up into the horizontal vortex and shot like a missile into the atmosphere.
"Loser!" Ranma— the other Ranma— not me, shouted.
Well, wherever I was, it was as close as I'd ever come to my home dimension without actually being in it. Contemplating sheer dumb luck and how much of it I must have, I slowly nodded off into a recuperative slumber— but not before warding myself against unwanted visitors.
Damned pig, Ranma thought, why can't he leave me alone? Ranma continued to mutter and whine to himself the entire walk back to the dojo. That little battle had been short and pointless. Most of them nowadays were. Ranma didn't really bother with physically fighting anyone but Happosai, and Happosai wasn't a steady guest in Nerima much now that Ranma had taken a more active interest in kicking his ass. That, and now that Ranma really could pull it off, if only occasionally and with a great amount of pain.
Ryoga couldn't really match his speed, and never would be able to, but Ranma, as his chi became broader and more focused, was slowly gaining on Ryoga in the strength and endurance department. Maybe that's why the lost boy somehow managed to find him twice a day to attack. He couldn't stand knowing that he was being left behind in their little cold war. Ranma shrugged. Whatever drove Ryoga wasn't something for sane men to dwell on, not if they wanted to remain sane. All Ranma knew was that using Ryoga as a target was much easier and less destructive than the dojo or general Neriman area.
"I'm home," Ranma announced half-heartedly as he stepped through the door and kicked off his slippers. Any second now…
"Ranma, you jerk!" Akane shouted as she stormed down the stairs, her door hanging half off its rollers after being slammed open much too forcefully.
Before Akane reached him, Ranma looked up at her and asked, "What have I done now?" There wasn't really much point in asking, he knew Akane didn't care, she just needed an excuse to pound on him for a little while.
"What have you done? What have you done?! Don't pretend you weren't visiting one of your other fiancées! Why else would you be late?!" Akane didn't even take the time to jump to a conclusion, choosing instead to simply smash her way to an end that painted Ranma as nearly every kind of pervert possible, to the point of just below rapist of cats, but with that as a close possibility.
Wow, Akane was really in the groove this time. "Stupid tomboy, I wasn't with none of the other girls!" Ranma replied, his fists clenched and the tendons in his neck taut with suppressed anger. "Your precious P-chan tried to kill me again."
"What have I told you about picking on Ryoga?!" Jeez, she was like quicksilver today. Ranma didn't even harbor the hope that Akane really knew of P-chan's alternate identity as the actual P-chan. No, she was just so accustomed to Ranma calling Ryoga P-chan that she almost instinctively associated the two. Strange, how she never made that final connection in her mind.
"Something like 'blah blah blah'?" Ranma asked. "He tried to kill me, you stupid bitch!" Ranma finally snapped. It wasn't like him to resort to heavy cursing, but more and more the reluctant fiancées brought such words into their arguments. Not much else changed, except for maybe the duration of the beating of Ranma that, like clockwork, followed shortly behind.
And so it began. Ranma didn't offer much resistance, barely dodging the first few swings of Akane's mallet, but for reasons known only to three entities in existence, he couldn't bring himself to retaliate or even avoid any more of the devastating blows. When it was over, Ranma was unconscious, bruised, and bloody. A few places along the walls were splattered with blood and Akane stood over her foe, sweaty and panting, but with a triumphant smile upon her blood-streaked face.
Ranma awoke several hours later, and he regretted it immediately. Everywhere hurt, and that meant everywhere, even breathing was a small torture. He tried to sit up but pain flared in his back and he was forced to slowly relaxed knotted and bruised muscles. How was it that he could utterly destroy a god, but a single girl, so many levels below him in skill and power that she didn't even register on the scale, could do this to him? Ranma shook his head slowly and flicked his tongue out, running it along his swollen and split lip.
Grimacing at the taste of blood, Ranma sighed and expanded his senses as well as he could with his rudimentary training. This wasn't his room, the sheer size told him that, but the feel of femininity, the actual residual traces of female born chi, told him that he was either in Nabiki's room (very unlikely) or Kasumi's. Ranma didn't have to wait long to find out who his caretaker was. The door slid open and the light was flipped on. Yeah, Kasumi, like there was ever any doubt.
"Ranma, you shouldn't be up!" Kasumi exclaimed worriedly. She knelt beside him with a bundle of bandages and a bottle of antiseptic. "The only reason we didn't take you to the hospital was because Nabiki said she couldn't afford it. I'm sorry, Ranma, but I'll just have to look after you myself."
Weakly, Ranma waved his arms in protest. "Uh… It's all right, Kasumi. I'll be fine in a couple days, no problem."
Kasumi nodded in agreement and smiled reassuringly. "I'm sure you will, Ranma, but I examined you while you were unconscious and I believe you have several cracked and broken ribs." Ranma nodded while Kasumi pulled open his shirt that had already been unbuttoned. "I would have bound your chest earlier, but you're much heavier than you look and I didn't want to accidentally hurt you."
"S'okay, Kasumi," Ranma mumbled, embarrassed at so much tender attention from a girl, even if it was Kasumi.
It was a park I'd landed in, I discovered the next day when I woke up. My head still throbbed dully and I had to wear a pair of sunglasses so as not to be blinded by even indirect sunlight. This was Tokyo, a Tokyo remarkably similar to my own, and if not for the lower magic level and my overhearing of the fight between an alternate of myself and Ryoga the day before, I would have believed myself in my home dimension.
Nerima looked more battered than I remember, and the ratio of insurance and construction companies to other businesses was more than a bit off balance. Well, I'm here, back on a world with technology. What should I do? Not a clue. There isn't a likely cure for Ami lying anywhere around here, if magic was even strong enough to surface as Talent, but a vacation would be pleasant. Pissing people/things/entities off and blowing stuff up can get old after a while. And my supplies of modern stuff, like real soap— not that stuff made from boiled animal fat— were getting way below comfortable levels.
I didn't want to run into myself yet, so finding a place to stay in another part of Tokyo instead of Nerima, where my other self was likely to live, would be best. Late afternoon came and I finally found a decent place to stay. The hotel was pretty nice, and the suite I'd just paid several thousand yen for had better be very nice.
Halfway across the lobby, on my way to the elevator, Shampoo came barreling through the swinging glass doors of the establishment. She was the same age she'd been when I first met in her the Amazon village, and looking as good as ever. In either hand she held takeout food boxes. I shrugged that off. If someone wanted to order takeout when they had room service at their beck and call, that was fine with me. What wasn't fine was why Shampoo wasn't back in China where she belonged.
I didn't slow my pace and didn't show any outward sign of acknowledgement as I passed her bye. Sunglasses, they protect your eyes when they get blasted in a misfired spell, hide your identity from people who know you intimately, and even get rid of that annoying glare from the sun.
Shampoo paused after she passed by me, but shrugged and continued on her way. All the mirrors in this place were annoying.
Ranma limped down the stairs, slowed by Kasumi's restraining hands placed firmly on his shoulders. His ribs hurt more than he could ever remember, and there was a definite taste of blood in the back of his throat.
No sooner than had his foot touched the floor beyond the last stair than Soun appeared, angry tears in his eyes. "Ranma, how dare you insult your fiancée!"
Simply put, Ranma gaped. Here he was, damned near as tough as a tank, and he'd been beaten into a bloody pulp by Akane, yet the blame was somehow attempting to shift in his direction.
"Father, I really don't think—" Kasumi's response was cut off as Genma rounded the corner. The Saotome patriarch was fairly well caught up in righteous rage.
"Boy, what a disgrace you are. To think I spent the best years of my life training you to be a man among men and look what you've become, an honorless dog!" Genma would have lunged for his injured son if Kasumi hadn't stepped in between the pair.
Ranma didn't feel very good (major understatement) and fighting against anyone more powerful than a squirrel was out of the question. Ranma had no intentions of fighting. He reached out with both arms and gently pushed Kasumi to the side of the hallway.
Genma was only a foot away, literally, as he had leapt into a flying kick directed at his son's head, when Ranma's eyes went blue. Blue as in luminescent energy covering the entire eye. A burst of unidirectional battle aura threw his father into Soun. Soun started crying. Slowly, to avoid ay undue pain, Ranma stalked his prey, slamming the two men down the hallway a few inches at the time with blows of concussive chi. Not a minute had passed when the pair went sailing out threw the back doors and into the koi pond.
Both men were more than grateful for the slightly scummy water. Ranma's last few strikes had been mostly thermal in nature. Soun's hair didn't really exist as anything more than a bristly patch of stubble now, and holes had been charred through each man's gi.
Watching impassively from behind Ranma, Kasumi went to get some burn cream and bandages. Just in case, she decided to get the gallon-sized container. The men looked sort of like they had been left in the sun all day then dipped in a deep fat fryer.
Ranma growled, "Shut up, you two." He turned on his heel, wincing at the jarring motion, and limped back into the house.
Nothing ever goes the way I plan, nothing. Take, for example, my conquest of Earth. I had the power, resources, and allies to make the venture feasible, and what happens? I fall in love. Though not directly responsible for screwing everything up, my relationship with Ami served to completely distract me from my ambitions when the need for a cure to the poison afflicting her arose. Then there was that enchanted paintball match about ten dimensions or so back. No one told me that using a real paintball gun was against the rules. Stupid blue people— chasing me across three universes over something so retarded.
This time the plan involved nothing more then floating around in the enormous pool maintained within the hotel. Rest, relaxation, and a few weeks of wanton fornication, and I'd be ready to hit the road again. As I said earlier, nothing ever goes as planned. The first day in the pool went amazingly well. I actually managed to do the backstroke for the first time. Three hours into the second day, I was floating on one of those foam things when I heard a giggle nearby then got splashed.
Lazily, I pulled my shades up and turned to the source of the giggle. Hubba-hubba, whoa momma, and all that. Gaijin, long strawberry blonde hair, a perfect figure, and an angelic face whose seeming innocence was belied by the mischievous gleam in liquid brown eyes. As far as Ami'll ever know, I've been completely celibate during the search for her cure— that is, if I can shield my thoughts on the subject. In truth, I've been screwing my way across the multiverse. Looks like this universe just offered up its first donation.
Pleasantries were exchanged, along with some light flirting. The rest of the day passed quickly, and before I knew it, Sherry, and I are right at the heavy petting stage. That's when the hotel attendant comes and tells us the pool is closing for the night. I shrug it off. My room has a hot tub. It also has a big comfortable bed.
"Ranma, I've never been to Japan," Sherry says. Her Japanese is almost perfect, though, so she can't be ignorant of the country itself. "Would you show me around?" Translation: take me out or I'm not going to fuck you. I have no problem with that. Hunger is the best sauce, or something like that, and I'm definitely hungry.
For someone who claimed to want to see the sights of Japan, Sherry chose the most expensive French restaurant in existence. I can afford it, so that's not a problem. The plan going to hell that I mentioned earlier happens right… now!
Three feet from the entrance of the restaurant with Sherry, who was clothed in a slinky black silk dress that had a long slit up to the top of her thigh and did very little to hide more than the how many freckles she had on her breasts, linked arm in arm with me, I heard a feminine roar of homicidal rage.
"RAAAAANNNNNMMMMMAAAAAAAAAA!!!" I could only discern my name in the shout by the barest margin. Sherry just appeared startled and I took a moment to look around. A girl about the age of my dimensional counterpart, with short black hair and a churning red battle aura, was running headlong towards me, a large mallet held over her head in preparation to strike.
What kind of shit was that other me into, anyway? Sherry yelped as I shoved her into the goofy looking guy in the red suit who stood by the door. I didn't want her hurt, not after all the time already invested towards getting in her pants. The glowing psycho chick with the oversized hammer looked so surprised when I stopped her attack that I couldn't stop the laughter that bubbles up. Surprise fled, to be replaced by insane rage again, although it was a little more focused this time.
"Do I know you?" I ask before backhanding the girl across the street. The chi infused mallet she'd previously wielded continued in a loose arc, eventually plowing through the wall of a shopping mall down the street.
The girl took longer than I'd expected to climb out of the rubble created by her impacting a brick wall. Anyone capable of generating such a powerful aura should have shrugged that little tap off without a problem.
Crimson so deep that it became black tinted in some places surrounded my attacker, an aura of anger, hate, and something I'm can't even identify. This was getting out of hand. The girl was giving too much of herself over to her emotions, to her chi. It would consume her and leave little more than a burnt out husk if I didn't intervene. Another good deed, I guess. Heh, I'm actually getting some karmic credit.
With less finesse and more force than I'd usually use for a person who hadn't just been trying to kill, I enfolded the psycho in a spell that deadened her emotions and put her to sleep.
Sherry clung to my arm, her eyes nearly glowing with adoration as we watched the police carry my attacker off. The girl was restrained in a steel cable reinforced straightjacket, apparently a standard issue item to all Neriman police officers.
"You were so brave, Ranma," Sherry cooed, rubbing herself up against my body. I didn't have much of an appetite in the first place, and with Sherry's mind turned away from food, we were soon back at the hotel.
"Waaahhhh! My little baby's been arrested!!! Waaaahhhh!!! My little baby is crazy!!! Waaahhhh!!!!" Soun wailed pathetically after taking the phone from Kasumi and listening to the officer on the line.
To be continued.
Author's Notes: This doesn't really have much to do with the actual story of The World at War and can be read or discarded without effecting your knowledge of the actual fic. Inspired by Carrot-san, Skysaber, and a couple others, I've decided to place my Ranma in the canon Ranma universe (this universe may be a little different, namely Akane really being psycho and Ranma (not mine) and Kasumi maybe hooking up, plus some unsupported continuation stuff) and see how things turn out. This side story will probably take up about three or four parts and will be released along with my other fics as my overactive muse dictates. Send me C&C at firstname.lastname@example.org
|Side Story 1-B|
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