AnimeFEST 2003 Fanfiction Contest
Honorable Mention

The Master's Underthings
by Gary Kleppe
(Series: Ranma 1/2, Oh My Goddess)


The phone rang.

Zhen Guairen ignored the noise, preferring to remain floating
beneath the cool and still waters of his meditative state. Blind
rage was a weakness he could ill afford, for his enemy (his most
hated enemy, may his name be spat upon and reviled by a thousand
generations to come) would surely use it against him. He needed
the sharpness and clarity of mind that meditation would bring.
When the time came, he would deliver his killing strike, as swift
and precise as the deadliest predator, and the world would be
cleansed of the presence of the hated one (may he burn for all
eternity in the deepest pits of the underworld).

The phone rang again, and again. And again. Zhen picked up the
receiver and placed it to his ear, but did not speak.

"Hello?" a voice came. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Tell the evil one that his existence is at an end!" Zhen shouted
into the phone. "For soon he shall feel the sting of righteous
vengeance!"

"Good evening, sir. I'm calling to let you know how you can save
up to forty percent on your...."

"Bah!" Zhen threw the receiver back onto its cradle, with such
force that it shook the table on which it stood. Such
trivialities would not distract him. For crimes beyond measure,
for evil beyond comprehension, the hated Master Happosai would
soon perish. And Zhen Guairen's hand
would be the one that slew him.

But first Zhen needed to complete the bargain he'd made. And for
that, he needed Momotaru to undertake a mission for him. Where
was....

As if on queue, the house shook, as something slammed into the
wall from outside. Chunks of plaster cracked off and scattered
onto the floor.  Another impact sent debris flying into the air,
leaving a window-sized hole, and a third smashed the entire
section of wall to rubble.

Zhen glared sternly at the hulking brute on the other side of the
demolished wall. "Momotaru."

"Um...." The man's eyes momentarily narrowed, as if he'd just
been asked a particularly difficult question. "Yeah?"

"Did I not tell you to use the door?" He continued before
Momotaru could answer. "Were not my very words to you 'While I
appreciate the value of an assistant who is strong enough to
smash through a wall with his bare hands, nevertheless next time
you are to use the door?'"

"Yeah."

"And why, then, did you not do as I instructed?"

"I did."

 Zhen eyed him skeptically.

Momotaru glanced back toward a pile of wood scraps which littered
the ground where he had entered. "It broke the second time I hit
the wall with it. I had to finish busting through by hand."

"I... see," Zhen said with a sigh. His own fault, he supposed,
for having forgotten who he was dealing with. He had been told,
by Momotaru's mother no less, that the boy had a mind like a
computer. And in a way, it was true.

No matter. After all, the owner of this estate wouldn't be
needing it anytime soon. Said owner had been scheduled to return
from his vacation in Hong Kong on the tenth of the month; Zhen
had met his flight at Tokyo airport, and, with one quick and
decisive stroke, rerouted his luggage to Sao Paulo. By the time
he managed to track it down, justice would be satisfied and Zhen
long gone.

"I have a job for you, Momotaru. Go to the Tendo residence. I've
already told you where it is." Giving directions would have been
pointless; for Momotaru, a straight line was evidently the *only*
path between two points. Fortunately, he always seemed to know
which direction to head to get where he was going. "Once there,
you will steal a personal item belonging to the hated Master
Happosai. Anything which would have been kept close to his body
enough to retain his scent. And I don't want you smashing another
hole in the wall when you return. Is that quite clear?"

"Um, yeah." Momotaru scratched his bulky head. "What should I
take?"

"Do I have to think of everything?" Stupid question. "Something
like... like...."

All at once, the perfect answer came to him. So utterly
appropriate. And it would be a message, a harbinger of the doom
that would soon befall the hated one. And Zhen Guairen laughed.

***

Muted voices from the television echoed through the dimly-lit
room. "Oh, please don't worry about me," said a kindly-faced
middle-aged woman.  "I'll be fine here alone while the rest of
you are out. I'm sure that all that talk about a psychotic
rapist-strangler at large is just a rumor. Nothing bad will
happen."

*Idiot.* Akane reached into the bag beside her for another
handful of rice crackers. Declaring that nothing bad could happen
or that nothing would go wrong was like issuing an engraved
invitation for something bad *to* happen. Whether it was a
spiteful god, or just some sort of cosmic Murphy's law, she
didn't know, but when people said things like that, life always
seemed to insist on proving them wrong.

In her own case, it was true that Akane was home alone. But she
wasn't going to say that nothing bad would happen. She fully
expected that a freak typhoon would hit any moment, or that the
furnace would explode, or some insane martial artist would come
crashing into her living room. And because she was ready for
these things to happen, they didn't.

She probably could've gone out with the rest of the family. After
all, she'd all but recovered from the flu that had infested her
body for the past week, and she certainly would've liked to see
the ballet. But Happosai had insisted on going along, and that
guaranteed that the audience would see a rather different sort of
performance from what they were expecting. Sometimes the flu
seemed like a blessing in disguise.

Something knocked against the wall behind Akane. She barely had
time to turn her head before the wall exploded outward. A chunk
of rubble thudded into the back of her head, and before she knew
it she was sprawled face-down onto the floor. An astonished gasp
managed to escape her lips as she tried to turn around, and she
could barely make out a huge, hulking figure before the world
faded from focus....

***

"I *am* listening, Pop." Ranma walked at the back of the group so
he could keep an eye on Happosai. He was bound and determined to
keep the old pervert from causing any more trouble for tonight.

"Don't be so insular, boy. Cross-discipline integration is the
key to building an art which will not only survive, but grow and
prosper. And it's the mark of a truly great martial artist to be
able to build a combat technique out of any field."

Ranma sighed. "Yeah, Pop, I know that. But martial arts train
spotting is still a stupid idea."

"I expect those timetables to be memorized by Monday," Genma
said. Soun Tendo nodded approvingly; walking beside him, Nabiki
cracked a slightly bemused smile.

"We're home, Akane!" Kasumi called out as she pulled open the
sliding door, casting a glance at the old man at her side. "I'm
so glad you enjoyed the ballet, Master Happosai." To everyone's
surprise, he had sat quietly in his seat during the performance,
watching intently and never interrupting. But when it had
finished, he had insisted on running into the women's dressing
room to congratulate the performers in his own unique way. Ranma
had then had to run in and drag him out, and that, naturally, had
earned the both of them a beating.

"Who could fail to be moved by something so touching?" Happosai
sniffled into his shirtsleeve. "An old man slipping hallucinogens
to a little girl so that he could have his way with her... why
don't they write stories like that anymore?"

"That's not what the Nutcracker Suite is about, you old goat,"
Ranma grumbled. Though, Ranma had to admit, it did make a good
deal more sense than the way Kasumi had explained it earlier.
"It--" Ranma froze in his tracks as he saw the inside of the
house. "Holy crap."

"Oh," Kasumi said. "Is Shampoo here?"

"Um, I don't think so. This looks way worse than what she'd do."
A sizeable portion of one of the living room walls lay scattered
about the floor of the adjacent hallway. Similar holes at the
opposite side exposed Mr. Tendo's room and the outside of the
house beyond. And lying in a heap amidst the debris.... "Akane!"
Ranma rushed to his fiancee, who groaned and began to sit up.

Nabiki went to the phone. "I'll call the doctor. You better get
the first aid kit," she said to Kasumi, who nodded.

"Tendo? Hello?" Genma waved a hand back and forth in front of his
friend's face, who continued to stare ahead bug-eyed. "C'mon,
it's not like your house hasn't been wrecked before." 

"You might want to check whether whoever or whatever did this is
still here," Nabiki said to him as she dialed.

"Eep. Me?" Genma's expression abruptly blanked out to match
Soun's.

"Right." Ranma slipped cautiously but quickly over to the inner
hole, senses alert, body tensed for battle. The path through the
walls ended at Happosai's room; Ranma saw nothing inside other
than piles of porno magazines and women's unmentionables, all of
which had been there before. "Never mind. All clear," he
announced as he stepped back into the living room.

Nabiki set the phone down. "Dr. Tofu's on his way over."

"Oh, my poor daughter! My poor house!" Soun sobbed. "Who would
possibly want to do such a thing?"

Momentarily setting down the bandages she'd been applying, Kasumi
raised a hand as if to count on her fingers. "Well, to begin
with, there's--"

"Kasumi," Soun interrupted. "It was a rhetorical question."

"Sorry, Father."

A shout suddenly came from Happosai's room. "AAAAA!"

Ranma and the two fathers bounded over to investigate, finding
only a petulant Happosai. "What is it, Master?" Soun asked.

"This... is... an OUTRAGE!" Happosai fumed. "I've been ROBBED!
They've taken my other pair!"

The three martial artists stared at each other dumbly for several
moments. "Um... pair of what?" Ranma asked, guessing that no one
else was going to.

Happosai's voice lowered. "Briefs."

Soun blinked. "You're studying to become a lawyer, Master?"

"I'm talking about underpants, you idiot!" Happosai shouted,
smacking his pipe against Soun's forehead for emphasis.

Ranma's tongue curled in distaste. "You mean to tell me that
someone smashed their way into here just to get their hands on
your...."

"It appears so." Happosai came back into the living room. "Such
is the lot of a martial arts master, Ranma. There will always be
those envious of our great power, resentful of the way in which
we use it to uphold justice and righteousness."

"Uh huh," Ranma said, twice as disgusted as before.

Happosai strode back into the living room, where Nabiki sat
gaping open-mouthed. "I can tell that you're shocked."

"I am," she said. "I never thought that you even *wore*
underwear, much less had a change of it somewhere."

"This is no laughing matter!" Happosai shouted. "Mark my words, I
*will* hunt down the miscreants responsible for this!"

"My goodness," Kasumi said. "Who would that be?"

"It's... I'll *tell* you who!" Happosai began pacing around the
room, moving faster and faster, agitating like clothes in a
washing machine's spin cycle. "It's... It's-- I'm going to find
out! *That's* who!" A sudden burst of speed, and he was gone, so
abruptly that it took the other occupants of the room a moment to
notice.

For a moment, Ranma could only stare, wondering what in the heck
that old freak had gotten them mixed up in this time.

***

The hammer slammed into nails like machine gun fire, fixing in
place the wooden sheet that now covered the hole in the wall.

Zhen Guairen stepped back to admire his work. Obviously it
wouldn't escape notice if someone were to look closely, but a
casual observer might pass by without knowing that the wall had
been damaged. He cared nothing for his borrowed residence, of
course, but for the time being it wouldn't do to call too much
attention to himself. Not until he was ready.

The sheet of wood suddenly shattered, showering Zhen in sawdust
and splinters. "Momotaru," he said, as his assistant lumbered in
through the now-reopened hole. "Did I not tell you...."

"Huh?"

"Never mind." *I don't want you smashing another hole.* This, of
course, wasn't another one. Zhen quietly sighed. Of all the
people who could have been helping him in his quest, why did he
have to be stuck with such a mindless dolt?

"Can I get paid now?" Momotaru asked hopefully.

"I paid you yesterday. You already spent it."

"Oh." He pondered for a moment, then nodded. "Oh yeah."

Then again, Zhen thought, stupidity did have its advantages. He
held out an open hand. "Did you bring back the item I specified?"

"Yeah." Momotaru reached into a pocket and pulled out a piece of
dirty white cloth. "Here."

"Ah. Excellent." Zhen snatched the underwear from the brute's
hand. A smell not unlike three-year-old eggs immediately
assaulted his senses; he ignored it as he began to dial the
telephone. For revenge against his hated enemy, he would endure
any indignity, any discomfort.

The phone rang once on the other end, and a recording picked up,
"You have reached the Demon Assistance Relay Network. If you know
your party's extension--" Zhen touched the three digits he'd been
given, and the voice gave way to more ringing.

"Yeah," the demoness answered, with the weary and wary tone of
one who perhaps expected that a superior was calling to chew her
out. "Mara here."

"This is Zhen," he said. "I've got it."

"Already?" Her voice perked up. "Great! I'll be over with the
contract in five minutes."

Zhen chuckled silently to himself. Soon, Master Happosai. Soon.

***

Kasumi eyed the offering which her sister held out to her. "I
really don't see why I should wear that, Nabiki."

"You do know that Doctor Tofu is here, right? Examining Akane,
out in the family room?"

"Yes, I do." Kasumi glanced around the kitchen, almost praying
that something needed her attention. "All the more reason it
would be silly of me to...."

Nabiki glared back sternly. "You remember how he acts whenever he
sees you, don't you?"

"Well, yes, but...."

"Do you want him flipping out like that while he's got his hands
on Akane?"

"Of course not. I...."

"Then put it on if you're going out there." Nabiki pushed the
paper bag into Kasumi's hands, then spun around and strode away
with the cool assurance of one who had just indisputably won her
argument. Breathing an understated sigh, Kasumi lowered her head
and pulled open the grocery
sack.


"How does that feel, Akane?"

"Okay, I guess." Cautiously, she fingered the bandage that lay
taped over the lump on her forehead. The pain had subsided to a
dull stinging; hopefully it would let her sleep. "Thanks,
Doctor."

"Don't mention it." Tofu smiled warmly. "You'll need to take
another day off from school, Akane. Stay home and rest. I'll...."

Tofu's words trailed off as his gaze drifted upwards, fixing
behind Nabiki, who had just stepped in from the kitchen. Akane
turned to look, and then boggled. Why was Kasumi wearing a
grocery bag over her head?

"Hello, Doctor!"

Tofu's glasses began to steam up. "Ka... Ka...."

"No, Doctor." Nabiki thrust her face in front of his. "That isn't
Kasumi. It's, er, Ranma."

"R-- Ranma?" Tofu blinked several times. "Why does Ranma...."

"... have a bag on his head? Well, it's perfectly simple."
Nabiki's eyes wandered aimlessly for a moment, then she nodded to
herself and turned back to Tofu. "It's a new curse."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes. Ranma went back to China, hoping to get cured. But
unfortunately, he managed to fall in the Spring Of Drowned Woman
Wearing A Bag Over Her Head."

"Very tragic story." Akane added obligatorially.

Tofu's brows lowered thoughtfully. "How do you suppose a woman
with a bag over her head ended up drowning in a spring in rural
China?"

"Oh, come on, now." Nabiki rolled her eyes. "How easy do you
*think* it would be to swim while wearing a bag? Anyway, our
Ranma isn't about to let a little thing like a new curse daunt
him. Isn't that right?" She gently elbowed Kasumi in the ribs. "I
said, isn't that right?"

"Oh." Kasumi's voice deepened into a parody. "Heck yeah! Who
cares about some dumb bag? Yo, Pop! Let's go kick some butt!" She
broke into a giggling fit.

"Um, thank you, 'Ranma.' Let's get you some hot water, all
right?" Nabiki ushered Kasumi back to the kitchen, hurrying as
the real Ranma stepped in through the hole in the wall.

"I guess I'll be going, then," Tofu said as he got up and made
his way toward the exit. "I'll be back first thing in the morning
to check on you, Akane."

Akane nodded. "Good night, Doctor."

"Seeya, Doc. Thanks for comin' over," Ranma said. "Hey, Akane, I
checked outside, and whoever did this left a pretty clear path.
There's a whole bunch of stuff knocked down. I'm gonna follow it
and see where it goes."

"Okay." If the trail was that obvious, it might well be a trap,
Akane thought. But even if it was, Happosai was already out
there, and in any case, waiting until morning might give the
attacker the time he needed to get away. "Be careful," she added,
as if saying that meant anything.

"Hey, no sweat. By tomorrow morning, I'm gonna bag me one
nutcase."

"Well, you've already got the bag," Tofu called from the doorway,
and chuckled.

Ranma looked back at Akane. They stared at each other for a long
moment, then exchanged shrugs.

"I just don't get his sense of humor," Ranma mumbled, shaking his
head slightly as he walked out.

***

Long after dark, a solitary light burned in the second-floor
study of the estate.

Hunched over the desk, Zhen browsed through page after page of
laser printer output, poring over paragraph after paragraph of
demon legal jargon. His pen, clutched in his hand, hovered over
the paper like a cat's paw, poised to strike its unsuspecting
prey. Just one stroke is all it would take to assure the doom of
his hated foe.

"Look, you've been staring at that for nearly four hours," a
weary-voiced Mara said from the chair beside his. "Are you going
to sign or not?"

"Just a moment," Zhen responded, flipping back to page one.

With a heavy sigh, Mara hefted the gallon-sized mug from the desk
to her mouth and guzzled several mouthfuls of coffee.

"What's this part here?" Zhen pointed to a line in the contract. 
"'Seller shall provide Buyer with contracted Services (as
described in Section Twenty-seven) not later than twenty-four
hours after the signing of this Agreement.' Twenty-four hours? I
want it right away!"

Mara shook her head. "Not a chance, sport. You aren't asking for
a night with a succubus or something simple like that. To get
what you want, I'll need to call in some pretty valuable favors.
I'm not about to do that without a signed contract in hand."

Zhen pondered. No doubt his enemy was already on the way here;
even a blind and deaf man would have little trouble following a
trail as obvious as Momotaru's, and Zhen had, in fact, been
counting on Happosai to do so. But now that plan would need to be
changed.

"I'm not going to stiff you on the deal, if that's what you're
worried about." Mara pointed out another section in the contract.
"If I don't come through, your payment gets refunded."

Still, the situation could be salvaged. Zhen called through the
opened doorway: "Momotaru!"

The floor shook as the brute thudded up the stairs. Momotaru's
head poked into the study. "Yeah, boss?" he mumbled through a
mouth full of food. Yellow crumbs and white cream filling stained
his face.

"I want you to go somewhere immediately."

"Okay." He stepped into the room, headed in the direction of the
window.

"Stop!" Zhen shouted. "Let me rephrase. I want you to go
somewhere immediately *after* I finish telling you *where* to
go."

"Oh." Momotaru halted in his tracks, took a bite from some sort
of dessert cake, and began to chew rather noisily.

Zhen unfolded a map. Noting his own location, and that of the
Tendo home, and borrowing a page from Mara's contract as a
straight edge, he drew a line. "Here. Ichi's sporting goods,
corner of Shukanteki and Detchiage streets. After that, go
wherever you like. Be back here in exactly two days, and not
before. Understand?"

"Yeah." Momotaru trudged over to the window. Mara winced,
shielding her eyes with her cloak as the shattering of glass
resonated through the air. With a muted thud, Momotaru hit the
ground chest-first.  Methodically, he stood and resumed walking,
taking another bite from his
now-soiled pastry.

Zhen laughed. Now when his adversary arrived, he would pass by
this house, thinking it simply one more that happened to be along
the path.  It would be hidden in plain sight. They might well
find Momotaru, of course, which would only leave them with the
problem of what to do with him. Certainly he wouldn't be able to
articulate any useful information.

"You know, I could get a succubus here, if you want one," Mara
said. "Throw it in, no extra charge."

"That's all right. I'll sign it as is." Pen once more in hand,
Zhen began initialling the blanks on each successive contract
page.

"At last." Mara's eyes rolled downward in an expression of
gratitude.  "Oh, and if you're thinking of stiffing us on the
payment, think again.  Demonic contracts are enforced by the
Infernal Force itself. Once you sign and I deliver, your
payment's gone automatically."

"Ah, yes. My 'possession of greatest sentimental value,' you
said. Not...." He sniffled into his sleeve. "You can't mean my
precious Barry Manilow's Greatest Hits CD?"

"That's right. I can't," she replied, unamused. "Nice try. All
that time, and you didn't even read the whole contract? Your
price is stated explicitly in Section Hundred-And-Fifty-Two."

Zhen's stomach quavered as he pulled out the page in question,
and a quick glance confirmed his worst fears. It was so unfair.
Eliminating Happosai was a service for which he should be
rewarded. To instead be forced to give up his precious
collection... so utterly, utterly unfair.

Yet he had no choice in the matter, none at all. Here was his
opportunity to enact revenge -- revange for which he'd spent more
than ten years, seething, planning, waiting for the right moment.
That moment was now, and he *had* to take it, no matter what the
cost.

The pen flashed out. Zhen kept his head turned as his hand
scrawled his signature across the paper, thoughts of what he was
giving up rendering him unable to even look.

"Oh, that's nice. Say, I don't suppose you could do one more
little thing for me?"

Zhen sighed. "What?"

"Sign the *contract,* now that you've signed your map of Tokyo."

"Oh." He looked. "Yes, of course." And so he did.

"Thaaank you," she said, a musical lilt in her voice that almost
sounded like a cash register. From under the dark folds of her
cloak she produced a gun-like device, and with a loud KA-THUNK it
embossed a circular seal onto the page. In a space marked
"Notorious Public" she signed her name, and in the next marked
"My Commission Expires" she crossed out the last word and wrote
in "is eternal."

[To be continued....]

Email: gary@garykleppe.org.
Web: http://www.garykleppe.org