Debt, love… Fight!

Queen of the pit.

Sometimes the neighbors are too loud, but it also has a lot to do with the measly density of the walls of this place.

My room is narrow, three tatamis long and five tatamis wide. I’m not a person that has a lot of things, but also, it’s not like I can allow myself to be a hoarder.

Guest houses stopped being popular in the seventies, when they were mostly used by poorly paid mangakas, living in a type of commune, with only paper doors between them. Rushing to get their weekly payments, spending it all on tobacco, alcohol and pen tips. 

The place is old and smells damp. We share the toilets, and there’s no showers or hot water. The person in charge is an old lady, with thinning white hair, it looks almost cottony, who is extremely cheap when it comes to repairs. You get the impression that the whole house will crumble upon her death, taking with her the dirt accumulating atop the tatamis, turning into even more dust. 

I once saw some city hall workers arguing with her, overhearing words like “risk of collapse” and “deplorable conditions”, nothing that is surprising to those of us that live here. It’s just that there are no cheaper living accommodations anywhere else in the neighborhood, even sleeping in a manga cafe is more expensive.

I like to think of this habitat like a small family of uprooted civilians, lacking a family home. Most of the other people living here are forty-somethings, many unemployed, that drink far far too much.

Still, I don’t feel like I’m intruding, at least not anymore. They treat me like an oddity, a flower amongst the rubble, the child they never get to see after their divorces. 

Someday I’ll leave this place and get back home, that thought makes the nastiness of the mold, the smell of the dust disappear.

Today will be a hard day too.

Ranma is a demanding teacher, but the routine does me well. I studied karate with my father, even made it to black belt, second dan. It’s a good base, but when you street fight, your knowledge of katas isn’t as important as the knowledge of  “don’t get killed”. 

We train everyday before I open the restaurant. At the moment we’re focusing on speed and resistance. He keeps saying that taking hits is the most important thing, but he won’t actually hit me, just blocks me and drops me over and over again, which is super frustrating to me. 

When I go out for a jog, it doesn’t take long for me to sense his presence behind me, catching up to me in three strides and easily keeping pace with me, but today, there’s something different about him, his usual good humor is nowhere to be found. 

“Good morning”, he greets me seriously. The effort from the jog isn’t apparent in him. His breath isn’t even heaving. 

Tomorrow is Friday, and I wonder if he’s as nervous as I am. 

After the run we head to one of Tarô’s gyms, we almost always use the same one, a small one about three streets off main avenue. You cannot tell it’s there, because the door gets easily mistaken with that of a service entrance to a restaurant. 

Ranma has keys, but doesn’t use them this time. He just walks in, like he knows it’s open and there’s someone waiting inside for us.

I’m surprised to see that guy again, the one that claims to be his brother. He’s wearing gym clothes, and warming up by hitting the hell out of the punching bag. He stops when he sees us. 

“You’re here”, he states while adjusting his boxing gloves and walking to the tatami. He’s definitely been waiting for us. 

“You’ll train with Ryu today”, Ranma declares. I startle, like he just stabbed me with a needle. 

“Why?” I ask, seizing up the guy in front of me, he’s just as tall as my teacher, but probably not as patient. 

“Put on some gloves”, Ryu points towards some boxes in the back. I look back to Ranma again, still wondering why he won’t train with me today. 

I don’t voice it, but I’m a little disappointed. I do as I’m told, and get the gloves, tightening them while he watches me with a stern look on his face. 

“Hit me”, Ryu commands, and I just glance back to the man sporting a braid, who is standing to the side, and staring at us with his arms crossed, sporting a furrowed brow.

I acquiesce, and hit him hard while he blocks me. I start with a couple of high hits thrown at his head, then to his torso, which he dodges, shaking off the tension. I charge again, with a series of quick punches, and that is when he seizes the moment and lands a powerful blow to my stomach. 

It’s the first time in my life I’m glad I have an empty stomach. I try to stand up but I can barely keep my eyes straight. I fall to my knees and grind my teeth. 

“I see what you mean, she’s not used to taking a punch”, I hear him say, and I fight to get back up. 

Ranma has retreated all the way to the back of the room, almost melding with the shadows. 

“She has to learn”, he grunts. I can barely tell it’s him, his eyes have become menacing and sharp, his whole face has become an unrecognizable stone mask. 

“I have a double session today, so don’t worry, I won’t hit her too hard”, my new instructor states, and Ranma answers with a heavy sigh.

“Good. I’m off then.”

“What, you are just going to leave me here with him?”, I ask while I stretch, trying to get over the lingering pain brought upon the unexpected hit. Ranma looks back over his shoulder, and stares at me for an instant, before walking out the door. 

New feelings emerge in me. I don’t know if it’s the sting of betrayal what I taste in the back of my mouth, or the bitter fact that he just left me behind, like it means nothing, in the hands of a stranger. 

Maybe I’m naive, but I thought he would be beside me all through my training, and him leaving fills me with uncertainty. 

“I’m sorry”, my new teacher stage-whispers, and seems to mean it, “it has to be done. Come on, get up, I’m going to hit you again”

And I’m absolutely sure he is going to. 

I raise my fists, shift my legs into position, sharp and vigilant ready for anything, but Ryu is merciless. The punches he lands are demolishing, I can barely block them before he breaks my guard and lands a good one close to my chin. I stumble and fall, he just clicks his tongue.

“You have to stay up”, he says while squatting beside me and extending his hand. Despite the dizziness I take it and get back on my feet, trying to get even. I land a few hits, but I get the feeling that in comparison, my punches must feel like he’s being tickled. 

Ryu is fast and strong. I don’t know if stronger than Ranma, but unlike him, he hits me without remorse. He hits me in the side again, and this time, while I do wobble, I manage to stay upright. Panting, and not really standing straight, I raise my fists again. 

“Good”, he smiles, mimicking my posture and raising his fists to the height of his temples. “Let’s see how long you can keep up.”

An hour later, I’m wheezing and heaving on the tatami, everything hurts and I’m this close to crying out of frustration. Ryu sits besides me, he also looks kind of tired.

“It’s not been all bad”, he starts, but I think he’s being too kind with his words. I haven’t managed to hit back five percent of all the hits he’s given me. 

“I…I don’t get it”, I manage to stammer out, and while breathing in, my thoracic cage shrinks while making a squeaking sound, “why did he ask you?!”

Ryu blows up towards his bangs, making them rise up a bit. Then he glances subtly at the door.

“As your sensei, he has the obligation to teach you certain things, but as a man….”, shrugging his shoulders, like that gesture makes everything clear, only it’s very unclear to me. 

I close my eyes, focusing on the pain, the exertion, on Ryu’s weird ramblings. I knew Ranma didn’t want to hit me, but I’m offended by the fact that he got another guy to take on the job. 

Something tells me that if I were a man, he wouldn’t tiptoe around it. 

“He won’t hit a woman”, I reiterate. 

“Nah, he couldn’t care less about hitting a female fighter”, Ryu says in a tone so dismissive it’s almost offensive. 

Placing my hands on the mat, I get up for what feels like the millionth time, staring at him, feeling my hair all messed up and stuck to my cheeks. Now more than ever, I miss Ranma’s strong arms, that hold me after a particularly difficult session. That hand that’s always there to bring me up after a fall. His eyes and confident smile, cheering me on. 

In his place, I have his brother, who’s scratching the back of his neck, awkwardly, and who definitely doesn’t offer any help. I realize that even if he did, I wouldn’t want it. 

“Good session, see you some other day. Try to get some rest.”

Sure, like it’s that easy. I only have an eight hour shift to cover at the restaurant after this. 

Wincing, I finish stretching, gritting my teeth. The door opens and my sensei appears, almost as if summoned by my thoughts, and for no reason I can tell, he looks to be out of his mind.

He looks at me, then at the man that’s been beating me to a bloody pulp.

“What did you do?!”, he exclaims, facing his brother.

“Hey, I held my punches back! Nothing’s broken!!”

“You better hope I pull MY punches back”, he roared, while walking menacingly towards him. I can only watch, dumbfounded. 

“You asked me to help! If you’re gonna get like this every time I do you a favor…”

“Akane”, he states my name so seriously I can only stand still, anxiety rushing through my body, “you need to leave. Now.”

It’s a direct order. He won’t look at me, too focused on his brother. I furrow my brow, not getting it. 

“Are you going to fight?”

“G-E-T   O-U-T”, he spells out, his lips in a straight line and pointing towards the door.

I can’t do anything beyond feeling belittled and shunned by this man, he does not seem in the mood to train with me today, or to give further explanations.

I gather my things, but make sure to do it in a way that makes it clear how pissed off I am. I stare at them from the door, scowling as deep as I can, but neither one pays me any attention. I slam the door on my way out.  

The early cold air greets me like a balm, the sun rising enough in the sky to give some cozy warmth. I walk to the bathhouse, I’ll have to bandage my knees, shoulders and ribs if I want to last till night time. 

.

..

…

Shinnosuke is acting weird.

I could tell from the moment I walked into the restaurant, when he gave me an empty handwave while taking a customer’s order. 

I don’t feel the slightest twinge of guilt for the extra work he has now that I’m training in the mornings. In a way he owes me after all, so I don’t understand his glaring stare, his indifferent expression. 

His anger is even more obvious when he leaves tables unattended, hiding behind the bar, washing the dirty dishes while giving me the silent treatment, like he wishes I could read his mind. 

I breathe in and out, feeling the lingering pain from Ryu’s punches. I don’t think I deserve this treatment, not after all the favors I’ve done for him the last two years. 

Ranma’s sharp words come back to me, about how he’s taking advantage of me and I just couldn’t see it. And that pisses me off even more. I’ve always been a good partner for him in the restaurant, and when I ask him to do HIS job, he freezes me out. 

It hurts.

Ranma’s attitude this morning, plus Shinnosuke’s indifference is ruining my day. The people paying for it are the customers, getting their dishes placed before them without care, drinking glasses slammed down instead of laid down, not to mention my unfriendliest face ever. There are no smiles today, and the dining area becomes quiet, everyone trying to eat as quickly as possible to get the hell out of here. 

I feel like a dense and heavy fog wraps itself around me while I clean the tables. I have to put my weariness aside, as I struggle to do my job, being constantly annoyed by my own thoughts.

Dumbfounded, I realize I’m angry. Angry! I’ve only ever felt that way towards people that truly deserve my hostility. Ranma lit this fire, and my coworker poured gasoline over it. They are the only ones to blame. 

Well, that’s not true. Someone else is to blame as well. My brother’s sensei, who first crushed me with his fists, and then with his words. 

I remember well what he said, that Ranma has no problems hitting  female fighters, which can only mean one thing: he doesn’t think I’m worthy of that title. The rage I feel about that turns the bowl I was holding into pieces. 

I look at my mess, startled, dropping the remains onto the floor while examining my hands, checking for cuts from the sharp shards of the bowl. 

“Are you hurt?” Shinnosuke appears behind me, looking worriedly at my hands. I glower at him. Him worrying about my wellbeing makes me even angrier. 

“I’m fine”, I answer dismissively, crouching to pick up the rest of the pieces, carefully wrapping them in a kitchen towel. 

I hear him sigh, while he crouches next to me. He helps me pick the leftover pieces in silence, and when I move to get up, he unexpectedly grabs me by the arm, forcing me to stay on the ground, next to him. 

I gulp, tense, I don’t know what is the meaning of all of this. His hand is still on my arm. 

“Ever since that guy showed up, you’ve changed”, he says while looking straight at me, then looking away while removing his hand at the same time, like the words have been eating at him for awhile, and now that they are out he regrets them immediately. “You keep missing shifts at work and you are covered in bruises”. 

Grabbing the kitchen towel with the shards, finally rising up, I can feel the sting from the bitterness of the argument on the roof of my mouth. I throw everything into the trash, towel and all, turning to face him, happy that the last customer and Mrs. O. left a while ago.

“I’m not missing shifts, I’m just not covering yours”, I speak as clearly as possible so there’s no misunderstandings, and I’m surprised at myself for being able to say it out loud. Shinnosuke seems upset, holding tension in his jaw. 

“Are you two going out?”

“What??”

“Do you like him?”

My heart is beating out of my chest, and I feel myself blushing while my shift partner walks decidedly towards me with his contrite aqua colored eyes. I’m not prepared at all for what is happening, I have no romantic experience, and everything Shinnosuke is doing seems worthy of a rom-com I never saw myself starring in. 

He cages me against the counter, and his right hand strokes the burgeoning bruise in my jaw, courtesy of Ryu’s training, and that I tried to unsuccessfully hide behind a band-aid. 

“What are you getting yourself into?”, he hisses, I swiftly turn my head away. I’m a nervous wreck, but he grabs my jaw again, stubbornly. “He’s no good for you Akane, he’s dangerous”.

I smile, because Shinnosuke doesn’t know that so am I. I’d love to scream it at him, that I’m now a weapon Ranma is working hard to sharpen. 

“I’m not some little girl…·

“You are so naive!!”, he interrupts, almost hysterical, “he’s taking advantage of you!!”

I almost burst out laughing at how ridiculous it is to hear almost the exact same words my sensei used, but thrown in the opposite direction. 

“What?”, I answer in a mocking tone, because there is nothing Ranma can get from me except an extra serving of meat in his next ramen bowl. Between us, it only goes one way, and I’m aware that it’s not a fair one in his direction.

“He doesn’t care about you, he only wants…”

“What”, I dare him to say, because I’ve caught onto the poisonous venom hidden in his words. I may be naive, but I’m not stupid. I’m a woman living alone in a shitty world, and am sadly not immune to unwanted proposals of a sexual nature.

“He wants…”, his Adam’s apple bobs up and down, he hesitantly comes up to me, “Akane…”

This isn’t happening, this can’t be real. Shinnosuke looks at my lips, and licks his own. I think I’ve dreamt about this a million times, many versions of it, but until now that’s all it was: a stupid dream.

And I realize I’m afraid of what is about to happen.

I barely get him off of me when the door behind us slams open and Shinnosuke steps away, just to let me see Ranma’s figure, looking even more disheveled than he did in the morning. 

My cheeks are burning while I look around, confused, trying to get back to what I was doing before Shinnosuke went crazy and my sensei put a stop to it with the most perfect of timings.

“We’re closed!” Shinno grunts, but the grimace upon Ranma’s face seems to make it clear that he doesn’t care. At all.

They stare each other down for much longer than they should, I’m about to step up when Shinno mutters an apology, goes into the changing room for a few seconds coming out without his apron but with his coat on. Ranma and him almost crash into each other by the door.

“See you tomorrow”, he says before fleeing, maybe from me, or maybe from Ranma. I don’t have time to overthink his statement, I just realized he left all the cleanup to me. Huffing, I try to make sense of what just happened, but my sensei has other plans. 

“Did I interrupt anything?”, he asks, tightly wound. 

“No”, denying the obvious, my shaking hands betraying me. 

Ranma drops his things on one of the stools, and watches me, silent, with his hands in his pockets.

“Do the two of you usually make out after work?” His tone is cold, even worse than when he threw me out of the gym this morning.

“We’ve never kissed, ever!” I answer by slamming the table with my fist, my cheeks burning up, “you are unbearable today!”

“Oh, I’m unbearable”, he mutters in a monotone voice. I just keep gathering all the plates, until they resemble a small mountain, taking them to the sink.

I’m exhausted, physically and mentally, not really in the mood for another talk about Shinnosuke and his many ways of getting out of work. I also don’t want to talk about kissing, because it’s a topic I’m not comfortable getting into, and also, the embarrassment of being caught in a situation like the one that just happened is enormous. 

Rolling up my sleeves, I start violently scrubbing all the dishes, my shoulders and fingers tensing up. I shoot quick glances at Ranma, who seems lost in some dark thoughts.

“I was about to get him off of me when you walked in”, going deeper into the sink washing the dishes, feeling like my heart is going to burst out of my chest, “I don’t know what is wrong with you today”.

The shadow cast by his imposing figure covers me completely, but I still don’t look up, just keep scrubbing the bowls, drying my hands with a dish towel.

“Were you?”, he asks with a hollow voice. I take a breath, my forehead creasing, I’m getting pretty sick and tired of this conversation.

“Yes”. Turning around to face him, I’m glad he’s moved to the other side of the counter, opposite me, leaning on it with a stony face. 

“I thought you liked him.”

“That doesn’t mean he gets to back me into a corner whenever he feels like it”.

“So you have boundaries”.

“Like everyone else”, I state while getting another dishrag and wiping down the tables with it. He watches me from his spot on the counter, like he’s weighing my words. “Why didn’t you train with me today?”, hoping the change of topic will also help stop the nerves coursing through my body. 

Ranma yawns and stretches, like a cat after a nap.

“Was Ryu too hard on you?”, he asks instead.

“Yes, far more than you are, but that wasn’t my question”. I turn and eye him suspiciously, “are you not going to teach me anymore?”

His lips purse, upset, grunting like the question gives him a headache, now the one that looks uncomfortable about the topic of conversation is him. 

“It’s not that, it’s just…”

“You don’t want to hit me”, I finish for him, and he nods, defeated. “My father used to hit me when we trained together, I don’t see why it’s hard for you”.

“It’s not the same”.

“Why?”

“Because I’m not your father”, he answers, slightly irritated. 

“You don’t think of me as a fighter, do you?”, I whisper, hurt. His jaw tenses.

“That’s not it!”

“Then I don’t understand why you won’t hit me!!”

“I could hit you and punch you”, the words feel like they are being pulled, dragged out of him as if by force, “but I couldn’t go as hard as you need. That’s what Ryu is for”. 

I still don’t understand, and am about to get into it again, but he just grabs his things and starts putting on his coat. 

“We are done talking about this. I’ll meet you outside”. 

“I still need like half an hour!” I call out, but he doesn’t seem to care. He walks out of the restaurant, his figure visible through the thick glass, sulking outside. 

I take a deep breath, look around, and start working. The silence around me helps me get my mind straight. Does he think I’m too delicate? Or does he think I cannot withstand his blows? It’s so annoying how he’s being considerate, sending his brother to do his dirty work instead. 

After I’m done mopping the floors, my anger has subsided, just barely lingering at the edges of my mind. I’ve also overcome some of the embarrassment, although Shinnosuke’s face, closing in on mine, is not something I’ll forget about anytime soon. 

I turn off the lights, and put on my coat. Stepping out, I see Ranma, squatting down right by the door. He’s staring straight ahead, and probably freezing to death.

“You should have stayed inside”, I comment, locking behind me. 

“I didn’t wanna argue anymore”, he answers while getting up. I still feel a little intimidated by his height, as much as I’m getting used to him being nearby.

That sincerity, along with his sulking face, is comforting in a way, despite the exhaustion, and the whirlwind of emotions that I’ve felt throughout the day. I smile despite myself, because he is truly a charming brute. 

“You won’t hit me”, I conclude. 

“No.”

“Because you don’t want to hurt me”, I I say in a low, intimate tone, slowly walking towards him, and the large shadow he creates. His eyes dodge mine, shyly, and I smile again, but fully this time. 

He’s glancing at me from the corner of his eyes, wiggling slightly with his hands in his pockets. He clears his throat. 

“Come on, I’ll walk you home”. 

He starts walking, and in this silence, in this tenuous peace, I find myself happy. 

.

..

…

It’s Friday. Fight night. Today’s training session with Ranma was short, since he also had to get ready for combat. He spent a few hours stretching with me, then some weight training. Afterwards, he ordered me to practice muk yan cho, while he executed some kung fu katas, taking all my attention with him.

I guess he’s unaware of it, but it’s so hard not to look at him when he is executing movements with such skill and precision. By himself, he is a whole masterclass in motion. Powerful enough to take your breath away, impetuous, methodical, flawless.  

He catches me staring, and I can’t really pretend I wasn’t, since I clearly haven’t punched the bag for some time.

When he finishes, he walks past me, sweaty and sporting a smile. 

“Focus on yourself”, he tries to be mocking, but he sounds pleased. He’s a showoff and likes to be watched. Drowning in embarrassment, before I can come up with a good excuse, like “I wasn’t watching” or “I don’t find you interesting in the least”, he goes towards the locker room. My brain wasn’t fast enough to blurt out a single syllable. 

I start again with the repetitive motions of wing chun, when I suddenly find myself wondering if Ranma has a girlfriend, or some girl she likes. He walks me home every night, that would certainly be upsetting to any girl. 

Maybe he doesn’t have a girlfriend, but if he does, that’s not really a problem, is it?

My punches speed up, it would be hypocritical of me to be upset. Or would it? No, it wouldn’t. I hit center, block to my right, punch with my left palm, block to the left, punch to the right, elbow, knee, high kick. Repeat. I do it until my thoughts get back to normal, far away from disturbing questions and ideas.

My sensei comes out of the locker room, wet hair, freshly showered. He comes up to me, and I stop, flipping back my long hair, held in a low braid. 

He smells good, woodsy, masculine, like cedarwood and spearmint. I swallow while he apologizes. 

“I gotta leave, I can’t teach you anymore today”. 

And I get it, he needs to get ready for fight night. 

“Then I’ll see you tonight then”, I feel gross in comparison to him. I reek of sweat. 

“You don’t have to come”, he sounds annoyed, like we haven’t had this conversation a million times. 

“You can’t stop me”.

He grits his teeth, but he knows. He shakes his head, but I can tell he knows it’s a losing battle. 

“Fine. But be careful. Go straight into the back rooms and talk to no one”.

“I can take care of myself. Worry about yourself”. 

“Ryu says the same thing”, while giving a sideways smile, grabbing his gym bag. I do the same. We walk out together, Ranma locks the door, turning the keys two times.

“Ranma Saotome, where are you hiding so early?”, a voice calls out behind me. I turn, and I see a tall man, wearing a perfectly ironed police uniform. 

“Oh no”, the hulking man beside me mutters. I watch them curiously, alternating my gaze from one to the other. Are we in trouble? “I have no time for you Hibiki”. 

“It’s Friday. And unless I’m mistaken, you fight on Fridays”.

“I don’t fight, you must have me confused with someone else”, he answers, scratching the back of his neck, trying to appear nonchalant, while subtly pushing me away. I understand, he doesn’t want me to get involved in whatever is going on with him and the policeman. 

“I’ll be sticking to you like glue all day long, so don’t even think…”

“What’s that?!” Ranma yells, pointing with his finger somewhere behind the policeman. I can’t believe anyone would fall for such an obvious trick, but Hibiki turns around, and Ranma seizes the opportunity to grab my hand and run away. 

“Saooooootoooooomeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!”, the policeman shouts, running after us. 

“At the crosswalk, turn left, and don’t stop, he’s after me”, he yells while still pulling my hand. I’m about to object, when he suddenly lets me go, and keeps running towards a street filled with shops, the policeman hot on his heels. 

I stop, since no one is after me. Bewildered, with a racing heart, I don’t understand what just happened.

“What the hell…??”

.

..

…

The place is just as alive as the first time I came here. 

The voices rise to create a cacophony, loud and unintelligible. The doorman lets me through after exchanging a few key phrases, he recognizes my face after my fight a few weeks ago, and gives me a pleased nod. The first time, I came with Happosai, and was so overwhelmed I didn’t know where I was going. This time it’s different, I’m not here as a fighter, and for some reason, it makes it more intimidating. 

I take off my coat, my hair today is in a half pony, decorated with some colorful barrettes. No reason, no special reason, just because. The tight jeans, and the shirt that shows off a little cleavage, aren’t for any special reason at all too.

Just like Ranma told me to, I try to get to the back rooms, but the way there is confusing. I get lost, in a maze of hallways, filled with random doors and people smoking and drinking rudely outside of them. 

“Akane-chan!”, an ancient being comes to my rescue in this hellhole. Happosai has no trouble making way towards me in a sea of people. “You’re back!”, his lecherous smile never faltering while letting his eyes roam my body, from my ankles all the way up to my eyes. 

I cross my arms, trying to ward off his lascivious stare. 

“I’m not fighting today” I clarify, while he takes out his smoking pipe, looking at me inquisitively. 

“Did you come to see Ranma? Or perchance, The Queen?”

“The queen?”

“This pit has a King…and also…a Queen”.

My stomach flips, and I blink fast trying to process the information. There’s so many things I don’t know about this place, and this is one I wish someone had told me about. 

“She’s about to go on, you should check her out. You may have to face her soon”.

The curiosity is evident on my face, I look at the old man, who looks positively delighted to spend some more time with me. I nod, he flashes a toothy grin, and starts weaving us through the halls until we arrive at one the upper levels of the pit. 

Not  a lot of seats left, but Happosai moves like a fish through water and moves a couple of guys out of the way, just enough space for both of us. About three meters from the ground, very good spots. 

I hold my breath while Tarô’s voice fills the room, introducing a female fighter specializing in taekwondo. A woman walks into the arena, looking tough, with a serious face. She’s wearing reinforced gloves, kneepads and elbow pads. I stare fascinated, until the crowd falls into a hush, when the next name is announced. 

“Shampoo”.

He pronounces the name like a prayer, moaning it like a lascivious word whispered into the ear of his lover. The crowd goes wild, the air turns heavy, she’s like a beacon, all eyes are on her. 

Into the pit walks a long-haired woman, wearing flawless make-up, and a wolfish smile. Her tiny waist is clearly defined by the wide legged pants hanging by her hips. The outline of her voluminous chest is clear, her breasts prominently featured and enhanced by a chinese inspired sleeveless top. In her arms, wrists and hair, golden accessories sparkle and shine. 

She’s pure sensuality, like water for the thirsty eyes of every gambler in there. I now understand her nickname, The Queen. Her beauty is so striking, I find myself in something of a chokehold, absolutely dazed by her presence. 

“Quite the show eh? I would pay just to see her walk”, fine words coming out of his mouth while he obscenely holds his pipe in his mouth. 

Back ramrod straight, I give my full attention to the fight. The bell rings, the match begins. The difference in skill is immediate, only twenty seconds in. The taekwondoin is powerful and deadly, but The Queen is faster, better, sharper. The taekwondoin kicks have nothing against the ones by her opponent. Shampoo is graceful and deadly, every hit being born from her torso, bending, dodging and taking advantage of the impulse as she redirects her own punches. 

It’s like she’s dancing, throwing hits here and there, until her opponent is barely standing. 

“Finish her!!”, a man to my right shouts.

“Do it!!!”

“DOOOO IIIIITTTT!!!”

Others join in, and their screaming turns into a pounding-like vibration coming from the cheering section, like a wave of violence. 

“What is she going to do?” I ask the old man. 

“Shampoo has a personal seal, so to speak”, pointing with his chin, reminding me to keep watching. 

So I watch, as this woman, surrounded by all this aggressiveness, calls upon the powerful hostile and dangerous energy around her, into her seductive figure. She grabs her rival, whose desperation leads her to try to land a punch, twisting her forearm until the taekwondoin falls to the mat. Grabbing her by the wrist, she twists it until you can hear the clear crack of bones breaking, followed by a sharp and dire cry from her rival. 

“She broke her arm?!”, I gasp, even from up here you can see the weird angle it’s left in, the arm twisted in such a way it must be a terrible fracture. My blood runs cold. 

“Fracture of the right arm, ulna and radius with humerus joint. They rarely fight again. It’s her specialty, her staple”.

He says it like if instead of just crippling that woman, Shampoo just cooked some fried rice. Cold sweat gathers at my lower back, while the screams of pain mix with the cheering from the crowd.

“That is completely unnecessary, the other fighter was done”, my eyes can’t look away, from the winner, away from her spitefulness, how her ice-cold eyes don’t even glance towards her unfortunate rival. 

“The Queen doesn’t like competition”, Happosai clarifies while shaking out the ashes from his pipe, wrapping it up. “Now you know”.

I inadvertently choke. Ranma should have told me about her, he should have warned me. 

“Am I here for her? Am I her new opponent?”

The old man raises an eyebrow, interested.

“You have potential, but you are not ready yet. Is Ranma teaching you well?”

He didn’t answer my question, but I can read between the lines. That woman is the queen of the pit, and me, I’m nobody yet, a humble and naive beginner. 

I elbow my way out, taking two steps at a time up the stairs, which are a little nicer than the ones the fighters use. My heart is beating wildly, my temples are throbbing, I need to speak to him right now. 

But I don’t have to go looking for him for too long, when I run into him, walking through the upper levels of the pit. Ryu behind him, same as the first time I saw him. I make my way through the crowd, while he stands still, waiting for me. Ranma smiles at me, but there is weariness in his expression. 

“I was really hoping you wouldn’t come”, he says, and I catch my breath while pointing down, down towards the mat where the agonizing taekwondoin is being dragged out. 

“You didn’t tell me about her”, I spat, the noise from the cheering and the gambling all around us. 

He frowns. 

“Told you about who?”

Is he playing dumb?

“Shampoo”, I hiss. 

“She’s back?”, Ryu sounds disbelieving. 

“Give me a fucking break…”, Ranma drags a hand across his face, while I see his chest swell over his baggy T-shirt, exposing his perfectly sculpted upper arms.  

“It can’t be a coincidence”, Ryu states deathly serious. 

“I know, I know it can’t be, let me think for a second!!”

“What’s there to think about”, I ask, not understanding what the fuss is all about. 

Tarô’s voice announcing the next match interrupts our discussion, our argument? The night is just one surprise after another. Ranma grunts and looks at me, pushing his bangs back. 

“We’ll talk later, and whatever you do, stay the HELL away from her, got it?”

I nod, his suddenly serious expression leaves me no other choice. He looks frustrated, and I realize he is about to go down the pit. My stomach churns, vertigo rearing its ugly head as well, knowing I’m about to see him hit and be hit. 

He gives me one last look before breathing in, messing with his bangs again. I can’t let him go like this. 

“Wait”, I stop him, and without really thinking about what I’m doing, I take off my barrettes and place them in a way his bangs will no longer bother him. I gently thread through the strands of his thick, shaggy black hair with my fingers. 

Ranma lets me, although he seems slightly restless. 

“That’s better”, nodding to myself, happy with how it turned out. He reaches up with his hands, feeling my handiwork, smiling back. 

“Are you sure?”, he asks but makes no motion to remove the brightly colored barrettes. 

“They suit you”, Ryu mocks him behind his back, pushing him towards the stairs.

“Shut up”, he barks back, but that concerned look on his face is gone now, and all that’s left is his small and confident smile. Yes, this is much better. 

I watch him walk down, with my heart in my mouth. I go down too, but in an inconspicuous way, trying to blend amongst the crowd. For a split second, I hope for the old man to come back. With him beside me, it’s easier to get around, not to mention, leechers keep away, in deference to the biggest leech there is. 

My pulse goes crazy, I haven’t been paying attention, I don’t even know who he is up against. I shiver, even with the knowledge that Ranma is the best there is. He is the King of the pit, and she is, The Queen. 

I shake my head trying to push my thoughts away, when a big, sturdy man walks onto the mat. Since I wasn’t paying attention I didn’t catch his name, but from this position I can see how Ranma and him exchange some harsh words before getting into a battle stance. 

His rival removes his t-shirt, he’s all thick and well developed muscles. He has short hair, and a wild expression on his face, like a humanoid beast with a thirst for blood.

My mouth goes dry when they start to circle each other. I can recognize Ranma’s forms, he went through some of them in the series of katas he did in the morning. The way he crosses his feet while never losing sight of his enemy, his shoulders hunched forward, his hands: the left in a fist, the right behind, soft and ready. 

When the huge man lunges at him, everything becomes blurry and confusing. The crowd goes wild, and I try to reach above everyone in order to see. Ranma dodges and pushes, his muscles tensing up while blocking his mighty punches. I can feel his opponent’s power even up here, like maces brutally falling onto the ground. They resonate all the way from the mat, up to the wire fence that cages the pit. Ranma grits his teeth, and delivers a swift and powerful kick to the man’s temples, which knock him down enough for Ranma to begin a counter attack. 

The exchange of blows raises gusts of hot, dense air. His enormous opponent blocks him, and with a feint, he manages to land a brutal punch to his jaw. Ranma staggers and crashes against the wire fence. I put my hands to my mouth, trying not to scream.

He shakes his head, composes himself, and wipes his chin. I see the blood glistening on the back of his hand, he smiles and assumes his defensive stance again. I clench my fists, bracing for another exchange of blows, each one worse than the last. Ranma punches him in the face, and as he falls, he finishes him off with a powerful knee to the ribs. His opponent rolls, recovers, and blocks his punch by twisting his arm back, causing Ranma to hunch over enough to receive an elbow to the face.

I scream out his name, I think his nose might be broken, but I hope I’m wrong. Ranma is bleeding, and the anxiety it’s giving me, it’s like a terrible itch under my skin. 

Ranma climbs up the wire fence, gets up so high his rival, far heavier than him, can’t keep up. Every fiber of my being is tense, about to snap. I see him dodge the punches his opponent is lashing at him, dodging his kicks again and again, jumping all over the place. Finally, Ranma leaps and traps his rival’s neck between his legs, then he twists and falls, taking with him his rival’s massive body, which remains inert as a stone.

I wish to my very core that he doesn’t get up, but of course he does. In this place, every fighter seems to be superhuman. The human boulder gets up and wobbles a bit, before throwing punches everywhere. I just want Ranma to stop bleeding, to stand still so I can tend to his wounds.

I can do that, that could be my role. I can take care of him like he takes care of me. 

A flash of enlightenment takes over me, as, in an instant, everything falls into place. I can be useful to him, of course I can be. 

Ranma yells during his attack, and his thundering voice gives me chills. He executes a nimble, ethereal flip. He falls upon his stunned opponent with the force of the elements, his fists so swift you can’t even see them, and the mountain of muscle finally falls, thankfully no longer moving. 

I sigh with pure, unbridled joy when he emerges victorious, and I can’t help myself, running toward him, trying to make my way through the crushing crowd. I reach the small, narrow fighters’ ladder and begin hopping up the steps, slipping on some and taking smaller steps on others.

By the time I make it to the fighting level, Ranma has just exited the cage, and Ryu is screaming at him while grabbing his face and checking his nose. 

“Is it broken??” I yell while sticking my head between the two men, and pushing his brother’s thick and clumsy hands off his face, to check him out myself. Ranma is a goddamn wreck, his face battered, his nose and lips swollen, and a thick trail of fresh blood running down his neck, soaking his shirt.

He can’t even answer me, just grunting with half closed eyes. 

“To the nurse’s office, NOW”, his brother bellows, while handing him a towel to slow down his bleeding nose. 

“I’m coming too”, I try to hustle behind them, but Ryu stops and stares at me.

“Fighters only, you can wait in the back room”.

“But I…!”

“And get the ice packs ready”. 

I’m not great at taking orders, but I am new to this place and don’t want to piss off Ryu or Ranma. 

“Fine”, I nod, following them down the stairs until they take a tunnel to the nurse’s station. I stay above the level of the cage. 

I wander down the hallway I followed last time, trying to find the damn locker room. I finally reach a vaguely familiar spot: a long corridor that ends at a door where several women are standing around. 

I walk up, ignoring the harsh scrutiny, the nasty stares. I try to open the door and hear sniggering behind me, when I fail to get it to open. I turn, they are all looking at me like I’ve grown a second head or something. 

Some details are hard to miss: the long earrings, nice hair, tight dresses, high heeled shoes. I know I’m wearing tattered jeans and a t-shirt that screams “student playing hooky”. They gossip in hushed tones, laughing again. Something odd is happening here, but I don’t know what. 

And that’s when she comes walking through, glorious and deadly. Every other woman go deathly quiet while Shampoo saunters and struts up to me. 

“Ni shì shéi?”, she asks while crossing her arms, imposing, dangerous. 

I think she just asked me a question, knowing chinese would be amazing right about now. 

“I’m…I’m sorry, I don’t understand”.

“Nǐ shì shazi ma? Ni zài zhèli zuò shén me?”

Nope, I don’t understand a single word, but based on her tone and gestures, I know I’m in trouble. Her lips purse, and even with such a menacing expression, she is absolutely stunning. 

“Wait, isn’t she the one that fought two weeks ago? The one that beat the twins?”, one of the women points a perfectly manicured fingernail at me. Iridescent in color, with tiny white pearl decorating it.

I wince, never taking my eyes off Shampoo, her eyes in turn, taking an interested look at me. She comes even closer, examining me, invading without shame my personal space. 

“You beat Pink and Link?”, her strong accent harshly contrasts her sweet and girlish voice. 

I nod, straightening my back. At least I am taller than her, if only by a few centimeters. 

“You take twenty minute, I only five”, she brags, showing me her fingers, to make a point. 

“Good for you, I guess”, remembering how she easily snapped her opponent’s arm, in such a cruel and premeditated way. 

“What you want with Ranma?” she asks, and this time, the tone of her voice is deeper, the smile on her face gone in a flash.

Ranma gave me a single request, to stay the hell away from her, and somehow, it’s the first thing I end up doing. 

She is The Queen, and Ranma, The King. 

I frown, tightening my fists.

“None of your business”, the answer comes out of my lips quickly and thoughtlessly, full of contempt.

I understand, too late, that I just planted the seed for animosity, and don’t even want to think or imagine the consequences. 

“He led her into the room”, another one of the women says, trying to get into Shampoo’s good graces, “by the hand”.

The chinese fighter’s porcelain face turns white, almost sickly green. She’s shaking from barely contained rage, while eyeing me up and down, suspicious, in disbelief. 

“I not believe!”, she yells in an insulting tone towards me. I begin to fervently wish that Ryu had had the brilliant idea of handing me the damn key to the damn door. 

The women start to close in on me, wishing to rip me apart. However, Shampoo composes herself, shaking her shoulders, and looks at me again with such fake sweetness that it makes me want to vomit.

“Ranma not do again”, she says, and I just blink until the words finally make sense in my brain. My eyes widen, my mouth hangs open, I just stare at her dumbfounded.

“Ranma…?”

“Not do again”, she insists, “no more. Or Shampoo kill”. 

She smiles as she says it, like a promise, and I know she absolutely means it. My eyes are wide and dry, something is rotting and twitching inside of me. The mocking laughter fills my ears again. 

“Oh poor dear, she’s gonna pee her pants!”, one jeers, while the rest join in on the collective cackle. 

“Is she gonna cry?”

“Do you think you are better than us because you can fight?”

“You should teach her some manners now Shampoo”.

The hallway spins, everything is spinning around me. I shove them away, and run, humiliated, with my eyes on the ground and a stifled breath. To my surprise, they let me go. 

I can hear their cackling all the way back, or maybe, they are already in my head. I don’t know, all I know is that I shouldn’t feel so…so small.

I look up and find myself face to face with the bloodied man I had promised to take care of just an hour ago. He has some bandages over his nose, and cotton balls clogging up his nostrils. His hair is a matted mess, held back only by my barrettes. 

Frankly, he looks like shit. No woman in her right mind would come within two meters of him, much less with romantic intentions, because the odds of her ending with foreign teeth inside her mouth is high. Imagining that does make me feel a little better. 

He half opens one of his eyes, and looks at me, curiously. I look down again, and walk by him, moving out of his way. He doesn’t try to stop me, not that he could in his current state. 

Behind me, it’s gone deathly quiet, before Ranma explodes, shouting expletives, although I’m not too sure since he’s yelling in perfect mandarin. 

There’s so much I don’t know about Ranma, and the things I just learned hurt too much. 

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*And a huge thanks, again and always, to our lifesaver Dani for doing such an amazing job translating this chapter!

Don’t forget to leave us your comments and thoughts—that’s our only reward, and it keeps us motivated to keep creating.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

This chapter has a distinctly romantic tone and marks the beginning of a new dynamic between the protagonists—or rather, it speeds things up. Shampoo’s appearance always shakes things up; she’s a character that brings change on many levels. That entrance as queen of the spring is the best I’ve ever written for her, so rest assured she’s going to stir things up.

Huge thanks to Danisita for the amazing translation work, which allows us to reach so many readers. Also to my betas, Sakura and Lucita, for fixing my messes.

And of course, to Isa, for her gorgeous illustrations that inspire me so deeply.

Lum

ILLUSTRATOR’S NOTE:

UUFF, Shampoo, the queen—I love her. She’s going to bring some extra drama to our kiddos.

I’m swamped with work, so I had to go for simpler illustrations this time and couldn’t draw everything I wanted to (Ryoga as a cop, I’ll draw you as soon as I have time, baby), otherwise it would’ve taken me much longer to publish.

(And yes, Ranma is wearing the Adidas Chinese New Year Jacket hahaha—just imagine him walking through Shibuya and seeing it in a shop window… he couldn’t resist.)

I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did.

As always, we look forward to your comments—they’re what keep us going as artists.

Isa