"Ranma, Mousse, I'd like you to meet Pao Don Yu. He's a master of the Martial Arts Marriage Ceremony."
Ranma blinked. "Uh, Pleased to meet you, Mr.Yu." He bowed respectfully. Mousse followed suit.
The thin balding priest bowed back.
"So," Ranma continued, "Martial Arts Marriage Ceremony?"
Yu nodded. "I am so trained."
Nabiki smiled. "You see, Ranma," She pulled a huge easel from somewhere and placed a large diagram on it. She took a telescoping pointer from her pocket, expanded it, and pointed at a random spot on the diagram which seemed to be some kind of traditional sketch of a series of historical events. Ranma thought that a couple of the figures were supposed to be brides, but mostly it seemed to be a picture of a lot of fighting. "Long ago, many marriages were political. They were used to seal alliances and to secure heirs sometimes for families that weren't very popular."
She pointed to another random spot on the illustration. "Sometimes the enemies of families who were preparing for a wedding would do their best to break up the happy couple. If they didn't succeed before the wedding, they would come to the ceremony itself. Bridenapping was very popular as well as attempting to get the groom drunk, bribing or abducting the priests, and just generally brawling and trying to stop the wedding from being successfully concluded."
"Over the years, an order of priests in a particularly troublesome region had one too many of it's members kidnaped in these kinds of disagreements, so they decided to do something about it. They developed the secret techniques of the Martial Arts Marriage Ceremony."
Yu bowed again, then took over the narrative. "The priests of my order have practiced these techniques in secret for many centuries. It is our tradition. However, there has not been any demand for use of these techniques for many many years. When Miss Tendo came to secure my services, I was somewhat skeptical, but she assures me that there may, indeed be some need for my particular skills."
Ranma blinked. Now he'd heard everything. "Uh, yeah," he admitted. "You could say that."
The priest bowed serenely.
Leaning close to him, Nabiki asked Ranma the question that he was dreading. "So?" she pressed, "Did you talk to Akane?"
"Well... Yes..."
"Did you tell her about the wedding?"
"...no."
She let out a frustrated breath. "Well, why not? You can't do it without her cooperation."
"I know that! I was meaning to tell her. I went down into the dojo for practice just like we talked about, and I knew that it was the best time to tell her, but then... we started sparring."
"So? You couldn't tell her then?"
"Well... Yeah, but..."
"But what, Ranma?"
"I meant to. I caught her fists and started to tell her I wanted to talk, but then she...'
"She?"
"Well, she..."
"She what, Ranma?"
"She kissed me."
"What?!"
"On the lips. Just leaned right in and kissed me while I was holding her fist." He wiped the brow of his very red face, then looked at Mousse hoping for some help. None came. "I was so surprised..."
"Why didn't you tell her then?"
"Well, I was gonna, but I couldn't talk. I tried twice."
"You couldn't talk?"
Ranma shook his head.
"So what happened next?"
"I felt so stupid just standing there looking at her. I had to do somethin'."
"So what did you do?"
Ranma's shade brightened a few candle powers. "I..."
"You?"
"I... I kissed her back."
"Then what?"
"Well, nothin'. I just kissed her."
"But you were in there for twenty minutes!"
"Yeah." He put his hand behind his neck and stared at the floor. "So it was a long kiss."
She looked at him for a few moments with an emotionless face. He looked at her, then at the wall, then at the priest, then at the floor, then back at her. The expression on his face was just too pathetic. Nabiki fought to keep a straight face. She might have done it too if Mousse hadn't snickered. They both began to laugh.
Ranma was beginning to resemble a boiled lobster. "Some help you are!" he yelled.
Father Yu looked on wondering what he'd gotten himself into.
***
Duty.
The sum of Shampoo's life was contained in that one word.
Duty to the tribe, duty to her family, duty to the code of a warrior.
At the moment, however, she was focusing on duty to the restaurant. While not the most important aspect of her life, lately it seemed to be the most time consuming.
Especially since Mousse had become difficult.
She swept the floor in silence. The rhythmic whisper of the broom was the perfect focus of a meditation. It helped her to slow her manic thoughts. So much of her life now hung in the balance. Too many of her loved ones could be hurt if her plans went sour. The thought of disappointing so many people left her sick to her stomach.
She hated Japan. The people were arrogant, the food was bland, and the air was foul. When she thought of all the time she had wasted in this barbarous place, it made her want to cry. Each morning it got a little harder to rise and face the new day. Each night, it took a little longer to convince herself that she was doing the right thing. Through it all, she kept reminding herself over and over of the reasons she was here.
Duty.
She sighed. She'd been so idealistic once; cheerfully setting out to capture the heart of the man who had won her hand in marriage. She was the most powerful in the village, not to mention the most beautiful. She'd been sure that Ranma would be pleased that she would be his.
The fool.
Why couldn't he see what a wonderful wife she would make? Why did he continue to defy the laws of the mighty Amazon nation?
Why didn't he want her?
There it was. The blow to her pride. She'd been eager to love Ranma then. The defeat was still embarrassing, but he was strong and beautiful and best of all he was her own age. Her optimistic nature had painted a rosy future for the two of them.
But Ranma didn't want her.
Day by day she grew more weary. Day by day her optimism waned and her doubt waxed. Day by day it got a little harder to wear that cheerful and vacant expression that kept him from ever really being angry with her; the one that kept Great-grandmother from guessing how disloyal her thoughts were becoming.
Even before her first talk with Ukyou, she'd been tiring.
These days she knew that he would never love her. Not really.
She didn't want a loveless marriage.
But still she couldn't give up. Going home in disgrace was not an option. She'd tried that once. She would be cursed with an unnatural second form for the rest of her days for that breach of tradition. The next time the penalty would be even harsher.
It was time to stop playing nice.
Ranma would never love her.
So be it.
He *would* marry her. He *would* return with her to the village. He *would* become loyal to her and to the tribe. She would do whatever she had to do to make it so.
It was no longer a question of love or of desire. Her own lack of enthusiasm over such a reluctant and obviously stupid husband didn't matter in the slightest. She could marry Ranma and return to the village; to the land and the people that she loved, or she could wander for the rest of her days as a rootless exile.
That thought left her cold and afraid. Even Great-grandmother would desert her if she gave up. There would be no one to stay with her.
No one.
Except Mousse.
Mousse was an idiot. He was foolish, naive and gullible.
But he would stay with her.
She hated to admit to herself how much comfort that unbidden thought gave her.
In these dismal and repetitive days, there had been more than one occasion when she'd caught herself thinking about that. Thinking about what would really be lost if she and Mousse left Tokyo together. If they went to another town, one with bluer skies, and began to make a life for themselves there.
That was as far as her mind had ever gotten before she had scolded herself and reminded herself of her duty.
But some mornings just before her alarm went off, she'd awoken with a smile on her face and the quickly fading memory of a happy dream. One where she looked deeply into beautiful loving eyes that never quite focused directly on her, and ran her fingers through long, silky hair.
And she knew that in the heart of all her worry over failing in her duty to the tribe another pain was hiding.
What was wrong with Mousse?
He'd been so cold to her lately.
The idiot.
Her melancholy gave way to annoyance as a key clicked in the front door. Mousse himself walked in a moment later and, not noticing her, began to walk towards the back of the restaurant. Where had he been anyway?
"Mousse late." she said coldly.
He was a bit startled, but turned towards her calmly. "Good evening, Shampoo."
"You no help with delivery or cleanup. Why not?"
"I was busy."
"Busy where?"
"Practicing," he lied. "I'm going to go take a bath now."
"You no help yesterday either."
He shrugged. Nabiki was right. He needed to get some emotional distance from her if their plan was going to be successful. It wasn't easy, but he had to control himself. "I've been practicing a lot lately. There are too many strong martial artists here for me to spend all my time sweeping floors and delivering soup."
"So instead, Shampoo do it all?"
"That's your choice, Shampoo."
Her face brightened. He'd *never* talked to her like this before. "Is NOT! Is duty to restaurant!"
He looked towards her (almost in the right direction this time) and shrugged. "Duty to a building of wood and concrete?" His hands went out in a gesture taking in their bleak surroundings. "Duty to the citizens of Nerima who must have hot ramen? I've got better things to do. I'll work the hours we agreed on for my room and board, but only because that's part of my duty to myself. My duty to my own pride. That's it. If you want more hours, maybe you should think about wages. Otherwise, hire someone else."
Shampoo's frown turned into a genuine scowl. How dare he? This was about more than just unfair treatment as a worker. He hadn't sworn undying love or tried to hug her for days now. He was up to something. She opened her mouth to begin shouting at him; to demand the information she wanted, but before she could do so, she stopped. A recent memory played at the edges of her consciousness. Something about food, and...
Getting information.
Ukyou had gotten the information she'd wanted from Mr. Saotome without ever raising her voice.
Of course, food wouldn't work with Mousse, but...
She composed herself, and reminded herself that she should be willing to do anything for duty. No matter how distasteful. "Mousse, I've really missed you." she said coyly, switching to Chinese. "I'm used to seeing you all the time." She walked up to him, and put a hand on his arm. "It's lonely here all day with only great-grandmother to talk to. Please tell me where you've been."
And Mousse began to sweat.
© 1997 misha@cybergal.com
