Relatively Absent

by Togashi Gaijin

Chapter 2: All In The Family

Tokyo - Sunday, February 27th 1994

Aiko Yamada stood quietly in the middle of her private garden. With a look of intense concentration, the diminutive clan matriarch inspected the miniature rose bushes that stood as the garden’s featured centerpiece. The three hybrid MORrousel roses had been extremely difficult to obtain, and she had been husbanding them along now for the last year and a half. It appeared as if all of her efforts had finally paid off, as the plants were now showing signs of having taken root properly.

She carefully pruned each bush until it was shaped properly for the upcoming blooming season, then spent the next hour and a half arranging the center bed just so, making sure that every rock and plant was shaped and placed for maximum harmony. This was a task she both excelled at and took great enjoyment in; it was such a pleasant and relaxing contrast to the grindingly ever-present duties required to help keep the vast and diverse Yamada interests operating smoothly. Aiko had just started rearranging the first of the four side planting beds when she noticed her senior aide waiting patiently in the entranceway.

“Seiko-chan, I’m assuming that something has come up that couldn’t wait until I was finished, ne?” She cocked an eyebrow slightly at this unexpected interruption, since everyone in Aiko’s personal staff knew better than to interrupt her during her “quiet time”.

“Many pardons, Okusama. Your grand-niece Harukichi just arrived from Ehime and is waiting for you in the Green Room.”

Aiko’s eyebrow arched even higher at this announcement. Something serious must have occurred; Midori would never have submitted a report in this manner otherwise. She nodded once in acknowledgement before turning to go find something more appropriate to wear. Greeting one of her grand-nieces while in gardening clothes was not appropriate, no matter how pressing the emergency might be.


Harukichi stood up and bowed respectfully as Aiko entered the room.

“Obasama.”

Aiko smiled as she held her arms out to the short fuku-clad schoolgirl. “Oh, don’t be so formal, Haru-chan. Come and give your Auntie a nice big hug.”

The pleasure the Yamada matriarch gave in greeting was quite genuine. Not only was Harukichi a personal favorite amongst the clan’s stray kittens, she was also one of the few girls that Aiko could look directly across at without having to crane her neck all the time.

The familial greeting served another purpose as well; it allowed the elder woman to read her grand-niece’s body language directly. Aiko smiled to herself when she evaluated how difficult this was starting to become. Harukichi had made significant progress in being able to mask her inner feelings from all but the most discerning reader. Not that it impeded Aiko’s own scan in the slightest at the moment, but given several more years of practice Harukichi would be all but unreadable. She definitely had a natural talent for camouflage.

Aiko was not surprised at the tension that she felt in the younger girl’s frame. The amount of unfocused rage was higher than normal, but considering the girl’s initial upbringing a certain amount was to be expected. The thing that caught Aiko’s immediate attention was the mix of sorrow, fear, concern, and yes even rage directed at her. She blanched as the import of this made itself known.

None of this exchange showed on the outside, of course. A kunoichi’s primary training involved deception, disguises, espionage, and hidden weapons skills, and Aiko was the clan’s Grandmistress. Smiling as she broke off the embrace, Aiko led her young charge back over to the table and began serving tea.

“I trust the train ride from the island was comfortable?”

“Yes, Obasama. I always enjoy riding on the shinkansen.”

“How are the other girls? Have you all kept up on your schoolwork while you’ve been on vacation?”

“Hai. Midori is still struggling with her math, but I think that Kioko has finally gotten her to understand the basics of Analytical Geometry. Tsuya is the farthest behind, since she prefers to spend almost all of her time drawing instead of studying.”

“And yourself? Have you improved your spoken English like I asked you to?”

Harukichi blushed. “I’m sorry, Obasama. I’m afraid that I still find English rather … puzzling.”

Their conversation continued, on the surface and simple and pleasant family gossip session between a young schoolgirl and her elderly relation. The real conversation was happening in parallel via the subtle and almost undetectable hand and body signs of the kunoichi.


[Your presence here was unexpected, Haru-chan.]

[Yes, sensei.]

[I take it that some significant development has occurred in your current assignment.]

[Yes, sensei. I regret to inform you that we are submitting our final report at this time.]

[I see.]

[Were you able to positively confirm his death?]

[No, sensei. Her final battle resulted in the destruction of a large portion of a mountainside. Recovery of her body may not be possible.]

Aiko frowned minutely when she read the difficult posture combination. Harukichi was better at body signing than the other girls, but the gender inflection appeared to be incorrect.

[‘Her’?]

[Yes. Ranma was unable to unlock her curse before she lost the fight.]

Satisfied that her grand-niece had actually intended to use the feminine, Aiko gave permission for the girl to broach the formal request now being signed.

[Sensei, I have a boon to ask of you once you have observed the tapes and film in the report.]

[And that would be?]

[I respectfully request that you review the report in detail first.]

[Very well. I sense a large amount of anger held within you, Haru-chan. Would you care to engage in a bout with Seiko to help you relax?]

[Yes, please. That would be … quite useful, provided we can fight full contact.]

[Full contact? That is not your normal style, Haru-chan. Are you sure about this?]

[YES.]

Aiko briefly glared at her student in disapproval. Harukichi had used enough force in the gesture that the sign would have been visible to anyone nearby. The young girl then compounded the error by flushing visibly.

[Your pardon, sensei. I am still quite perturbed over recent events.]

[I gathered that.]

Given the circumstances, Aiko decided that she could make allowance for the slip. This time.

[Don’t worry, Haru-chan, I’m sure that Seiko will be more than happy in helping you in … relieving … your anxieties today. She’s been complaining about the lack of decent training dummies ever since I sent you girls out on this assignment.]

[I hope I will not disappoint her.]

[Haru-chan, be careful. You cannot afford to become unfocused when battling an opponent, even if the fight is only a friendly spar between friends.]

[Hai hai, I understand.]

[See that you do. I will view your report while you are working out with Seiko. In the meantime, at least make an attempt to relax. Your face is too pretty and you are entirely too young to be carrying around a perpetual scowl.]

[Yes, sensei.]


“… and you should have seen the look on Tsuya’s face when she found out that all of the local art galleries were closed on the one day we were staying in Matsuyama. Can you believe that she expected the rest of us to simply tag along with her for the entire day while she looked at paintings?”

The younger Yamada continued her idle chatter about the day to day life of the four schoolgirls on vacation until Seiko entered the room and began to clean up the tea service. Her return brought to an end the socializing; it also signaled the completion of the film development.

Harukichi stood and bowed to the Yamada matriarch before following Seiko out of the room. Sighing, Aiko straightened her shoulders before walking towards her private study to confront the unpleasant report waiting for her there.


A disheveled Harukichi groaned as she flopped with a thud onto her futon. She really should have known that Seiko wouldn’t just passively block her attacks and let her vent all her anger and frustration unimpeded. She rubbed her left hip and winced; Seiko’s counter of her attempt at a Floating Hands, Swords of China combination still stung. It would probably bruise by the morning, too. Rolling on her back she stared at the ceiling, trying to sort out the turbulent mass of emotions roiling within her. She fell fast asleep before she had a chance to crawl underneath the blankets.


Seiko smiled as she gently laid a blanket over the sleeping girl. This was not the first time she had performed this service for the diminutive redhead, as Harukichi was very adept at finding a way to overexert herself on a regular basis. Given what Seiko had seen earlier from the photos while she was compiling the report for Aiko-san, she could easily understand why the girl had been so upset.

So alike, so very much alike in so many ways,” she thought as she quietly exited the room.


Seiko knocked quietly on the door of the study and waited. And waited. And waited some more. She was reaching for the knob to enter anyway, expecting to find her employer and friend asleep in her chair, when she heard a soft command from within the room.

“Come in, Sei-chan.”

Seiko quietly entered the darkened room and shut the door behind her. What she saw nearly broke her heart. Aiko was curled in her chair with her chin down and her arms wrapped around a black 8 x 10 picture frame, her face a frozen mask of pain and grief. But no tears, never a tear. Seiko sat down on the tatami next to the chair and waited silently for Aiko to speak.

The two women sat next to each other, motionless, for several long minutes.

“I miss him, Sei-chan. In times like this, I miss him so much.”

“Hito never got to see his grandchildren grow up. It’s a terrible thing, not being able to watch your grandchildren grow and blossom, not knowing their joys and sorrows as they surround the house with cheerful chaos and noise. Ichiro and Jiro are never here. My sons have wonderful families of their own, but they both spend all of the energy running YamadaCorp, and they’ve embraced the new ways so thoroughly there just isn’t any room in their lives for a lonely old woman.”

Aiko pulled herself into an even tighter ball in her chair.

“All my girls are gone, Sei-chan. I’ve lost them all.”

Seiko reached over and gently placed a hand on Aiko’s shoulder.

“Mai. Elegant, beautiful Mai, running off with a gaijin all the way to New York City. She never calls, she never writes, my letters are always returned unopened. We might as well not even exist in her world.”

“My darling Shizuka, always trying so hard to be better than her older sister at everything. She never even had the chance to know her own daughter.”

Seiko could no longer hold back tears at hearing the old pain buried in Aiko’s voice. The death of the youngest daughter in an auto accident a decade ago had hit Aiko especially hard. The explosion that claimed the life of Shizuka’s husband and child several years later had nearly shattered her completely; Aiko’s granddaughter had always been loved and adored by all. Seiko cried silently for them both, shedding tears she knew the elder Yamada never would.

“And Nodoka. How could I have gone so wrong with her? We were alike in so many ways, and she always enjoyed the training and the challenges of the Yamada kenjutsu ryū. She was respectful, dutiful, intelligent, and beautiful, her aptitude for the Art was amazing to behold, and yet she threw it all away. All of it, all away for a two-bit thieving shyster and his perverted monster of a sensei. I lost her as suddenly as I did Shizuka.”

Aiko turned to look at Seiko, her own eyes glistening with tears she refused to allow.

“We had to disown her, Sei-chan. We HAD to, you know that as well as I. The clan could never allow itself to be associated with a family such as the Saotomes. That fat glutton Genma would have emptied Ranma’s inheritance in less than a year, the dishonor that follows his clan around like a sick plague would have done irreparable damage to the clan businesses, and letting his perverted grandfather loose on the family to treat our children like he has Ranma and the Tendō girl was simply unthinkable. Why couldn’t she see what would happen when she cast her lot with them?”

Aiko pulled the picture frame away from her own embrace, revealing a small montage of portraits; images of Ranma and “Ranko” side by side framed in stark and simple black. Brushing her fingertips over the glass, she stared at the miraculous duality that had been her grandson and daughter; two amazing and precious children sharing the same space, the same time, either just a short splash of water away.

“Poor Ranma. All you had to do was have the courage to walk away. Just walk away. But you never knew, did you? You never knew that there would always be someone here to hold you if you could just have walked away from it all.” Aiko thoughts wandered over the images of the battle she had just recently viewed. “So strong in so many ways, yet such a gentle soul underneath all that bravado.”

Aiko clutched the frame tightly to her chest once more and curled back into a tight ball in her chair, gently rocking the picture back and forth like a child as she stared blankly at the floor.

“Gone. Everything I touch turns to dust,” she whispered so softly that it could barely be heard.

Seiko didn’t know what to do; her friend had become almost as distraught as she had been over the loss of Shizuka’s family. Seiko sat next to her with her hand on Aiko’s shoulder, lending what silent support she could, until she felt Aiko’s hand reach up and gently squeeze hers in return.

“Thank you, Sei-chan.”

Aiko unwound herself from her chair and stood, taking a moment to stretch her legs after sitting so long in a cramped position. Her composure somewhat restored, she donned a miniscule smile as she took one of Seiko’s hands to lead her over to the family butsudan shrine.

“I think that it’s about time we introduced Ranma to his younger cousin, don’t you?”

Both women sat down in front of the shrine. They lit the candles, burned the incense, rang the bell, and softly chanted the Buddhist sutras required to welcome and appease the newly honored family spirit. After the lengthy ritual was completed, both stood and bowed respectfully to the spirits of the clan. Aiko then placed Ranma’s picture overhead in memorial, next to the picture of a lovely young girl with straight black hair and expressive amethyst eyes.


Elsewhere

Sailor Pluto shrieked in agony as the Gates once more rejected her commands. The reflected spell wrecked havoc throughout the senshi’s body, its power wild and uncontrolled. The magical feedback tossed the senshi violently aside to land in a writhing, twitching heap, while blue lightning coursed over Pluto’s body until the spell’s unfocused power dissipated.

Sailor Pluto staggered to her feet and rested a moment to regain her strength. She HAD to return to Earth quickly; the events she had long ago set in motion were reaching their most critical and dangerous juncture. Without her presence in Tokyo and the ability to control the Gates over the next several months, the dream of Crystal Tokyo could very well shatter and be lost amidst the threads of time.

The Key. There was something wrong with the Key. There had to be; the Gates were no longer responding as they should. Perhaps the Key had been somehow damaged in the explosion when she killed herself by stopping time over the Mugen Academy. Dying had not been pleasant but it had been necessary, otherwise the Silence would have quickly consumed the entire world. Having long ago prepared her talisman for this possibility, she had invoked her forbidden power without a moment’s hesitation.

Raising the Garnet Rod, she again cast the spell of command on the Gates of Time.

Access denied.

Her scream of pain reverberated throughout the shadowy mists.


Tokyo

Seiko studied her friend from across the table, noting the deep lines under Aiko’s eyes and the puffiness surrounding them. It looked like the Yamada matriarch had also been unable to sleep last night.

“I want no expense spared in recovering Ranma’s body, Seiko. Have our contacts down in Matsuyama arrange for the equipment, and send Akahito to ... no, better make that Tashiro. Have Tashiro fly down with instructions and authorization for the girls, and have him place himself under their command. Midori will be in charge of the operation. I will NOT allow another empty urn to be placed in our family shrine, you understand?”

Seiko nodded briefly. “Yes, Okusama.”

“Good. Please inform Harukichi that I will hear her request tomorrow after dinner. That should give you sufficient time to compile a visual summary of my grandson’s life over the previous year. Make sure that you highlight as many images of his curse in action as you can. I want there to be no possibility whatsoever of misunderstanding just exactly who ‘Ranko Tendō’ really was.”

Seiko barely suppressed a gasp of surprise. “Aiko, are you sure about this?” she inquired softly.

“Yes. I’m certain I know what Haru-chan will ask of me, and it is high time my former daughter learned the true consequences of her continued foolishness. If she does nothing to atone for her actions, there are certainly other methods we can use to bring the Saotomes to justice.”


Mt. Horai

Midori took stock of their provisions and frowned. It had been three days since she had sent Harukichi back to Tokyo with their final status report, and the remaining girls were all getting thoroughly tired of the field rations they had brought along. Not to mention that they were starting to run out of things. Harukichi should be returning at any moment with a larger team to try and recover her cousin’s body, and of course any team dispatched by the clan would include enough provisions for an extended stay. If Haru-chan didn’t return within two days she would have to send Kioko to Matsuyama for new supplies.

Well, one good thing about doing that: she wouldn’t have to put up with her sister’s badgering about schoolwork for a few days. Of course, that also meant she’d be stuck babysitting Tsuya by herself, and keeping that girl out of trouble was almost a full time job. After thinking about it for a moment, Midori came to the conclusion that the pros and cons just about cancelled each other out.

Shaking her head, Midori drew her blades as she moved into an open area next to their campsite to start her afternoon katas. The Yamada kenjutsu ryū was based in part on the Mirumoto Yagyu ryū, which itself was based on the old Yagyu Shinkage ryū. The Mirumoto ryū was founded on the belief that a warrior with two blades should be proficient in using them together. The Yamada ryū melded elements of Shaolin long fist and Shaolin saber into the Mirumoto kenjutsu techniques. It was a very difficult school to master, and even more so for kunoichi who traditionally avoided most direct jutsu combat forms in favor of the more subtle ninjutsu schools. Midori wasn’t a master by any means, but she was the only one of the four girls who favored direct combat when the need arose.

Midori took a horse stance to begin Four Winds, the least complicated of the school’s katas. She enjoyed the serenity that settled over her as she lost herself in movement; Four Winds also served as an excellent warm-up for the more difficult routines to follow. It took very little time for Midori to become one with her blades.

She had progressed through Climb the Mountain into Dragon Claws when a section of the earth a dozen feet to her left exploded in a flash of brilliant white. The force of the blast threw her sideways several feet. She lay stunned for a few moments before picking herself up and running to investigate. Kioko and Tsuya arrived at the same time, having run from opposite ends of the campsite. What they saw left them speechless.


“MŌKO TAKABISHA!”

The powerful ki blast cleared the last remaining feet of the tunnel. Wearily crawling free of her imprisonment, Ranma curled into a partial fetal ball as her ki aura flickered and extinguished. She spent the next several minutes in a paroxysm of coughing, gasping, and choking; her abused lungs trying to make up all at once for far too many hours of bad and inadequate air.

Once the coughing fit had subsided she remained huddled in a shaking ball, clutching her sides in pain. Her left forearm was broken, several ribs were severely bruised, and her entire body felt like it was on fire from the inside.

“Eiko?”

Yes, Ranma?

“I though you … [cough][hack] … said I wouldn’t run out of ki.”

I did, and you did not.

“Then … [cough] … how come I feel so crappy?”

The pain you are currently experiencing is the result of the overloading of your internal energy pathways. Failsafe protocols were invoked when your ki usage exceeded your control capacity by more than fifty percent. Further ki usage is not recommended until an adequate safety margin has been reestablished and your control pathways and matrices have had a chance to stabilize properly.

“Huh?”

Eiko sighed. “You’ve overexerted yourself, Ranma. You won’t be able to use ki again until you’ve recovered.

“Damn. Guess I’m just gonna have to train some more.” Making this last comment triggered another brief bout of coughing and spasms.

A directed study course to improve your control capacity will be compiled once you have assumed full Guardianship.

Ranma discovered that her thoughts had become too fuzzy to make sense of Eiko’s words outside of the fact that there was a way to train for ki. She’d have to pursue this later when she could think more clearly. She carefully rolled onto her back and lay there a moment staring at the clouds in the sky. She had never seen a more beautiful sight in her life. Her silent reverie was interrupted by the whispered sound of rustling cloth and drawn weaponry.

Sitting up suddenly was a big mistake. A nearby giant decided that her head was a nifty place to sit on and her vision broke out in pyrotechnic swirls mixed with popping lights. Through the bleary haze Ranma managed to make out the shape of several girls dressed in hiking clothes holding various weapons in defensive positions.

Don’t look like Amazons,” was her first shaky thought. She subconsciously classified the other girls as “possibly friendly” when the nearest girl sheathed her sword without immediately glomping her.

God, I must look a mess.” She clutched her sides as another paroxysm of coughing shook her body.

You have managed to accrue a considerable quantity of debris. Ranma, until you have assumed full Guardianship it would be wise for you to conceal your actual identity.

Nodding in agreement, Ranma tried putting on a friendly smile before greeting the group.

“Hi. I’m Ranko. Sorry ‘bout this.”

Suffering from the effects of unhealed injuries, partial hypoxia, dehydration, malnutrition, and total exhaustion, Ranma’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as she collapsed into unconsciousness once more.


Eiko briefly pondered the current condition of its new Guardian before deciding upon the proper course of action to take. Her injuries were not life threatening and it could detect no hostility in Ranma’s new companions during the brief threat scan the girl had automatically performed before blacking out. Without a single standing directive implemented, no direct action on its part was warranted. Satisfied, it proceeded to wait patiently for its Guardian to regain consciousness.


Midori stared in shock as the brightly glowing thing that had just crawled out of the earth resolved itself into the shape of a short naked girl. She was an absolute mess: her skin was caked in dirt and blood and her hair so matted with mud that it was impossible to tell its original color. She was also badly injured, judging by the coughing and spasms shaking her body, the obvious break in her left arm, and the numerous visible wounds scattered over her entire body.

Gods, she must have been buried alive. Midori shuddered at this thought.

The girl was also quite delirious; Midori could hear her holding a conversation with someone who definitely wasn’t there.

Midori quickly hand signed to Tsuya, instructing her to retrieve blankets, extra clothing, and the med kit from the camp. When the girl abruptly sat up and looked in her direction, Midori was embarrassed to realize she was still holding her wakizashi in a low guard position and quickly sheathed it. She had to strain to understand the girl’s raspy voice.

“Hi’m R’nko. Sor’b’th’ss.”

Oh God oh God it’s Ranma he’s alive oh God he’s still alive it’s a miracle oh God it’s Ranma.