From: ukyoukwnji@aol.com (UkyouKwnji)


        With heartfelt appreciation and apologies both to Rumiko Takahashi and Jules Feiffer.

NagaNO!
        A Ranma1/2 fanfiction by Ukyou Kuonji
       
        It had been twenty-six years since the Games had been held here, and while Japan never in its collective dreams expected to clean up as far as the medals went, it had hoped to put in at least a respectable showing. And this time around, the Japanese thought they had a fighting chance. They had a young man, a martial artist, who by all accounts was considered the greatest athlete in Japan... and who knew? Maybe even the greatest in the world. His name was Ranma Saotome. In Japan, he was famous enough to have a manga series dedicated to his exploits. Surely, this talented fellow could fight for the honor of Japan at the Nagano Olympics.
        There was one small catch, though...
        He didn't want to.
       
       


        A member of the Japanese Olympic Committee dropped by the Tendo dojo, where Ranma was known to be staying. He was greeted at the door by a brash young woman with her red hair tied back in a pig-tail who introduced herself as Ranko Tendo. "He's not here, and I doubt he'll be back until you leave."
        There is a price to fame, folks, and the price `Ranko' paid was the fact that she could be recognized for who she was, no matter whether in normal or cursed form. The committee member produced a thermos of warm water and dumped it rather unceremoniously on the girl's head.
        "Oh, I think you'll be willing to hear me out, Mr. Saotome." the official smiled as `Ranko' transformed. "I'm sure you're well aware that the Olympics are coming to Japan, and we would like to do respectably in the competition. We're well aware of your skills, and expect you'd be honored to represent your country at the Games."
        "Oh, I don't think so, sir. At the risk of seeming a little selfish, what's in it for me?"
        "Why, think of the fame your triumphs would bring. The endorsements you could do afterward would make you a billionaire. And..." the official sidled up to him and gave him a conspiratorial wink before whispering "...think of the women you could have, man! Women *adore* athletes. They'll be hanging all *over* you."
        Ranma's mind had started to warm slightly to the idea at the mention of fame and fortune. True, he was ridiculously famous already -- the fact that the official had seen right through his `Ranko' guise was proof of that -- and thanks to his fame, the Tendo dojo was doing bang-up business. So he had a comfortable level of both already. But hey, a little bit more wouldn't hurt, he thought. Maybe, just maybe, this might be nice...
        But at the mention of women, Ranma blanched. No, he had enough of them already. More than enough. MUCH more. The idea of bevies of women flocking to him scared him to the core.
        He turned to the committeeman. "Uh... thanks for thinking of me, but the answer's still no. It's just not worth it." He put his arm around the official, and began to walk him firmly toward the gate, talking all the while so that the official couldn't get a word in edgewise. "Since you've obviously heard of me, I'm sure you're aware that I'm the heir to the Anything-Goes school of martial arts. Now, I'm sure that most of the competitions in the Olympics -- especially the winter ones -- don't have much martial arts involved in them, and at any rate, they've probably got more rules than I'd prefer to deal with. Besides, non-combat sports don't pose a challenge. Not like teaching these kids," and he jerked a thumb toward the dojo, where Mr. Tendo was leading a class of grade- school children, "how to become artists of my caliber. So you'll forgive me, I'm sure, but I'm not interested." And with that, he pushed the man out the door, slamming it behind him.
        The man stared for a long time at the Tendo Anything-Goes Martial Arts School. Particularly, at the closed door. Finally, he spoke: "We aren't going to take `no' for an answer, Mr. Saotome. We aren't giving up this easily." But he walked away, nonetheless.
        Ranma, at the same time, returned to the house.
        "Who was that, Ranma-kun?"
        "Nothing to worry about, Kasumi. Just a fan." Kasumi nodded sagely.
       
       

        Shortly thereafter, the Japanese Olympic Committee held a press conference regarding the difficulty of drafting Ranma Saotome for the Games. Upon hearing of his recalcitrance, there was much muttering about "the nail standing up", and the Japanese press corps vowed to bend this upstart to the will of the people.
       
       

        RANMA SAOTOME WON'T PLAY THE GAME, read the headline of the Asahi Shinbun. An editorial ran inside, stating that "anyone who refuses to play the game is against the game, which means he is against fair play, which means he is against our very way of life!"
        Genma nearly choked over his paper that morning, and as a result, his son wound up with an extra-large breakfast.
        "Hey, thanks, Pop. I can use the extra energy for my test this morning."
        "Do you realize what sort of firestorm you've started, boy?! You've dishonored the Anything-Goes School by running away from this challenge!"
        "I didn't run away, Pop. I walked away. I just wanna be left in peace for a change, okay?"
        "Peace? PEACE?!" Genma thundered. "Well, that's the *last* thing you're going to get now, boy! Mark my words!"
       
       

        For once, Genma Saotome was absolutely correct. The Tendo dojo was besieged with a crowd of angry people protesting the fact that Ranma had refused to participate in the Olympic Games. "Iconoclast," read one placard, while another quoted the old proverb "The nail that sticks up will be hammered down." And they were indeed hammering at the gate of the Tendo residence.
        Things were still reasonably calm inside. Kasumi had seen to that. Considering the damage that certain individuals had done to the place in the past trying to get at Ranma, this crowd was really quite mannerly. They could handle it.
        Well, not quite everybody. Soun, in particular, was sobbing his eyes out. "My dojo! The awful shame on our reputation! We'll never recover from this!"
        Nabiki was patting him on the shoulder and shaking her head in frustration at his outburst. "Oh, daddy. No one's called to withdraw from their classes. The fact that Ranma's even been asked should actually *add* to our reputation. Remember, he's the one who got this place back on its feet. And now, think of it! He's so dedicated to teaching, he's going to give up all the glory and fame and money... that winning at the Olympic games..." Her voice started to trail off as she mentioned the word `money,' and soon faded out completely. She turned to look at Ranma, and her face was a mixture of a glare and puzzlement. She left her father, who was by now beginning to dry his tears, and walked over to Ranma. She grabbed him by his collar and dragged him off to another room.
        "Okay, Saotome, start talking. What *is* the big idea, anyway?"
        Ranma grinned at her sardonically. "You're not concerned about the honor or the prestige, are you?"
        She shook her head. "You know me better than that, Ranma. Still, I know money isn't what drives you -- I'm not *that* wrapped up in it to not notice. But I'd really like to know: why *did* you say no, anyway?"
        "I don't want any more than what I've got, Nabiki. Too many people -- too many women, to be honest -- know who I am, and I worry that this is just gonna make the problem worse, okay? Sure, a little more fame, a little more money would be nice, but there's gonna be a point where I'm never gonna be left alone anymore."
        "You aren't left alone much as it is, Saotome."
        "My point exactly. And I wanna keep what little peace I've got."
        She jerked her thumb over her shoulder to indicate the throng outside. "If that's your idea of peace, Ranma..."
        He pushed her aside, and started for his room. "Just shut up and leave me alone, Nabiki."
        As he walked by the kitchen, Kasumi's voice drifted by: "Oh, Ranma, there's a gentleman from the Diet to see you. Something about the Prime Minister's Council of Athletics, I think. He's in the living room."
        Mumbling "Why'dja haveta tell me that, Kasumi? I coulda just walked past and ignored him," Ranma headed for the living room. The Member was sitting at the table, chatting amiably with Soun and Genma.
        Upon seeing Ranma, the MD turned to greet him, face lit up like a fireworks display. "Ah, so here he is! Our reluctant champion!"
        Ranma was having none of the MD's lightheartedness. With a surly expression, Ranma plunked himself down at the table. "I ain't no one's champion, got that? This whole thing ain't my idea, and I don't wanna do it."
        "But think of it, son! The honor of Japan is at stake here!"
        "The honor of Japan is a crock, you'll forgive me. We don't pull down a whole lot of medals at any Olympics; why does everyone think I'm gonna change that? It's never been a problem before."
        Soun and Genma virtually fell over at Ranma's impertinent outburst. The MD's face went grim, but he managed to maintain a thin smile. "Perhaps you should come with me, Ranma. There's someone who wants to meet you."
        "Yeah, whatever."
        "My limousine is in the rear of the dojo," the Member smiled again, this time more broadly, "How else do you think I could get past all your visitors?" He stood up. "Mr. Tendo, Mr. Saotome, I thank you for the pleasure of your company. Mr. Tendo, please extend my thanks to Kasumi as well. She is a marvelous cook, ne?" Soun's head bobbed up and down proudly. "And now, Ranma, if you would join me..." and he walked out.
        Ranma shrugged his shoulders and followed the Member out of the dojo.
       
       

        As Ranma climbed into the sleek limo, the Diet Member muttered a few words to his driver. The driver's eyes widened momentarily before he nodded and started up the vehicle.
        As the Member got inside, he couldn't help smiling as Ranma's amazement. The young man was looking all around at the many gadgets and fixtures inside. "So this is how you government bigshots get around, ne? And to think I always haveta *walk* everywhere *I* wanna go. I'm impressed."
        "I can tell. And I'll wager you'll be even more impressed when you meet your biggest fan today."
        "Biggest fan?" Ranma gulped miserably.
        The Member noted his reaction, and moved to assuage his fears. "It's nothing to worry about, Ranma Saotome. You merely have... admirers... in high places. That's all. So we're going to meet one of them. Maybe *he* can persuade you..."
        Ranma fell silent. The Member's assurances had done little for him. Who was it they were going to see? And what kind of `persuasion' might he use? He thought about how Akane, when she used her mallet, was at least kind enough to aim for his head, so that less damage would be done to his fighting skills. He shuddered to think of the effects of a mallet to his legs or ankles. Despite his near- deification through Ms. Takahashi's manga accounts, he was as human as anyone else. He could be crippled just like any other person..
        He was shaken from his reverie by the Member announcing, "We're here," and he stepped out. Ranma followed...
        ...and found himself at the gates of the Imperial Palace.
       
       

        Ranma's own arrogance could only carry him so far. Now that he stood before Akihito, the Emperor of Japan himself, he really had no idea what to say or do. And he was far too nervous to just stand still. So, he simply emptied his mind and started practicing katas.
        The Emperor smiled as he watched the nervous young man. "That's more than sufficient, Ranma Saotome. I didn't request your presence for you to give me a demonstration of your skills." Shaken from his zen state, Ranma stopped and stood quite still before the Emperor. Akihito continued: "I, too, am quite familiar with your abilities and exploits. Oh, by the way, when *are* you and Akane going to get together, anyhow? All of Japan is wondering about it. At this point, you know, it could be the social event of the year..."
        It hadn't occurred to him that the fame he had achieved meant a loss of privacy in this area, too. «Dammit! Even the *Emperor* knows about my love life! This is just *too* much!» He held up his hands. "Uh, please.. your Highness, er.. your Imperialness..."
        The Emperor smiled. "Call me Akihito." Even the courtiers gasped at this informality. It was not unnoticed by Ranma, who decided not to do so -- yet.
        "..er, yes sir. Could we not discuss Akane or the others? I haven't really been able to sort that out for myself, and I really don't wanna think about it at the moment."
        "Very well, Ranma. I'm sure you're well aware of the real reason I had you brought here." Ranma lowered his gaze as Akihito leaned forward in his chair «Not this *again*...» "Ranma Saotome, I'm sure you're aware that our economy is in the doldrums. People just don't have that much to celebrate about these days. What with the Olympics coming to Japan, we need a hero that could brighten the mood of this country, a champion to heighten national pride on the world stage. Ranma Saotome... we believe you could be that champion.
        As Emperor Akihito went on, Ranma's mind began to wander. So, he was to be a placebo for the nation's troubles, was he? Didn't he have enough of his own without that kind of responsibility? And this had nothing to do with his honor, after all; it wasn't even martial arts, so he wasn't as if he could necessarily be expected to win. Not that he had any doubts about his ability to do so..
        "..So.. will you represent Japan at Nagano? As a favor to me?" Ranma jerked his head up at the Emperor's question. He hadn't been paying attention, of course, but he already had has answer. First, however, he had to find out one small detail..
        "Can you force me to join the Olympic team?"
        A sad smile appeared on Akihito's face. "You're confusing me with the yakuza, Ranma. Force is not generally something employed in government. I take it that you're still unconvinced of the benefits of representing Japan in the Olympic Games, then."
        "Oh, no. I'm fully aware of the benefits. But you see, I've got many of them going for me already. You know, fame, fortune -- in modest amounts, of course. And I'm also aware of the downsides of those so-called `benefits:' everybody knows who I am, though I haven't a clue about them; I get absolutely *zero* privacy; and well... you already asked me about Akane. What about Ukyou? Or Shampoo? Or Kodachi?" Ranma's face gradually contorted into a mask of pained irritation as he rattled off his suitors' names. "What happens when I get famous enough for proposals to come in from all over the world? I can't make up my mind about what to do about the relative few fiancees I already have. And if more show up, I just know Akane's gonna kill me. It's just not worth it, okay?"
        "You mean... you want us to lose?" The Emperor was aghast.
        "Is that all you're worried about? What's wrong with losing? For someone to win, someone else has to lose. Why is that so horrible? Besides, Japan's not exactly a athletic powerhouse. Why should that be such a problem?"
        "I see." The Emperor stood up. "Well, if I cannot convince you, then I will not attempt to waste our time. I suggest, however, you take some public transportation back to your father-in-law's dojo," Ranma winced at this reference to Mr. Tendo, "and find out what the common man thinks of your refusal. I warn you, son, it's not pretty out there..." and with that, he left the audience chamber.
        The Diet Member, who had kept silent throughout this discussion, now turned to Ranma and spoke up. "It is a good thing for you that the Emperor is a reasonable man. Unfortunately, not everyone is so reasonable.."
        Ranma didn't like the tone of the Member's voice. "Uh, if it's all the same with you, I think I'll go now. Which way's the exit?"
        "Follow me..."
        "No offense, but I'd rather not, thanks all the same." Ranma's head spun around furiously, looking for another door by which to leave the room and hopefully, the building. He darted for the door that Akihito had taken, in the opposite direction as the MD was walking.
        Within a half hour, he had found a side exit, and slipped out of the Imperial Palace. There were protesters gathered at the gates, noisily demonstrating that Ranma be required to compete at the games.
        «Public transportation, my ass. I'm gonna haveta go from rooftop to rooftop just to *avoid* the `common man'...»With one almighty bound, Ranma leaped onto the roof of the Palace, and bounced off in roughly the direction of Nerima. «If I'm spotted, I'm dead meat.»
       
       

        Once inside the dojo, Ranma discovered that things weren't any more peaceful...
        "Is this my son? Is this the boy I raised to be a man among men? Then why do the papers say this about you?!"
        "I told you, Pop, I don't want any part of --" Genma had shoved the paper in his son's face.
        RANMA SAOTOME - CHICKEN, read the headline.
        Something inside of him snapped. *Nobody* calls Ranma Saotome `chicken.' He'd show them.
        He stalked outside to face the angry crowds and reporters that were congregated outside the dojo.
        "All right," he announced to the forest of microphones that were shoved into his face. "I'll play."
        An enthusiastic roar went up from the crowds. Ranma held up his hands for silence, and slowly, it was given to him.
        "On one condition..."
        "What's that?" called one of the newspaper correspondents.
        "That in every event I'm required to enter... I go last."
        The JOC members looked at each other. Could they do that? Usually, the order was arranged by lot. They would have to take this up with the International Olympic Committee. One of the members clutched his hands in a gesture of warding as he spoke: "We shall try our hardest to accommodate your request."
        Ranma nodded in agreement. Now that the interruption had been resolved, the crowd resumed its enthusiastic roar.
       
       

        Genma Saotome heard the cheering of the crowds and broke into uproarious laughter. Soun Tendo charged into the living room where Genma sat. "Saotome-kun! What is the meaning of this?"
        "D'ya hear the cheering, Tendo-kun? He's going to do it."
        "What?!" A somewhat perplexed smile grew on Soun's face. "But how?"
        "My son has two weak spots, Tendo.."
        "Cats, yes, I know about. But the other one is...?"
        "...Chickens." Genma crossed his arms, triumphantly smug. He looked very much like Buddha himself.
        "Chickens, Saotome? Ranma isn't afraid of chickens..."
        "Did I say he was, Tendo? I said it was a weak spot of his. He will not tolerate being *called* a chicken. On the other hand, he'll ignore me if *I* disparage his cowardice..."
        «Because you've got more of it than he does,»Soun thought, but kept it to himself. Why jeopardize a friendship over something petty like that, ne?
        "...so I got someone else to do it." And he held the newspaper aloft for Soun to read.
        Soun's eye twitched in anger. "The Asahi Shinbum has called him a coward... FOR ALL JAPAN TO READ?! And YOU put them up to this??!!"
        Genma waved his hands in front of himself. "No-no-no, nothing like that, Tendo. Take a good look at that headline, would you?"
        Upon closer scrutiny, Soun could see that the insulting headline was a layer on top of the regular newspaper. Gingerly, he removed the label the headline was printed on to reveal the true headline: "Saotome Holdout Enters Third Week."
        "You see," Genma continued, "Our press isn't nearly the tiger that the Western tabloids are. No one here would dare say that sort of thing about my boy. They're just too damn polite to do that. Especially when there's the possibility he might knock their block off." The elder Saotome grinned. "But Ranma doesn't know from polite; rude and insulting is the way to spur him to action." The grin faded, and a more thoughtful expression replaced it. "Actually, now that I think of it, it could have spurred him to any kind of action, some of which might not have necessarily been good. But what the hey..." as he stood up, "all's well that ends well. Ranma is going to Nagano!"
        Soun Tendo clapped an arm around his old friend's shoulder as they walked toward the kitchen. "I've got to hand it to you, Saotome... you're one sly fox. This definitely calls for a celebration!" He opened the refrigerator and rooted around. "Can I get you a beer?"
        "Sure thing."
        "Kirin?" Soun stood up, holding a bottle. Images of the Prince of Pickled Vegetables filled both their heads. As one, they chuckled ruefully and shook their heads. "Definitely not Kirin."
        "Y'know, neither of us is ever gonna drink that.."
        Soun nodded. "Might as well get rid of it, ne?" He walked over to the kitchen window, opened it, and hurled the beer bottle out. Meanwhile, Genma resumed their search through the refrigerator.
        In Rumiko Takahashi's manga world, that bottle would inevitably end up conking some poor Jusenkyo victim, and turning them into their cursed form. This being real life, things don't always work out so neatly. It *did* so happen that Ryoga Hibiki was walking by, muttering his usual veiled threats at Ranma when the rejected bottle of Kirin beer came sailing from the Tendo's kitchen window. Ryoga *was*, in fact, struck on the head, knocking him unconscious. However, the bottle did *not* break and turn him into P-chan -- trust me, beer bottles are stronger than all that. The worst thing that could happen now for Ryoga would be that Akari might happen by and conclude he was some kind of lush. Judging from the substantial lump on the back of his head, even Akari wouldn't be likely to arrive at that conclusion.
        "Sapporo, then..." Genma looked over his shoulder at his friend before reaching for the bottles.
        "*Much* more appropriate, Saotome-kun," Soun nodded.
        Genma pulled two bottles out and handed one to Soun, who tore the bottlecap off with his bare hands and raised the open bottle in salute: "To the Nagano Olympics!"
        Genma responded in kind: "To the Japanese Olympic Team!"
        "And to the greater glory of the Tendo-"
        "-Saotome-"
        "-TRANING HALL!!" they chorused, and once again burst into raucous laughter.
       
       

        As the crowds, pleased with the result of their continuous protests, began to filter away, Ranma turned and headed back into the house. No sooner had he crossed the threshold when he was once again accosted by Nabiki, who slammed him against the wall with surprising force.
        "Hey, what'dja do that for, Nabiki?"
        "What're you trying to do? Ruin me?"
        "What'd I do now?"
        "Look. I figured you'd be sticking to your guns about not participating. So I decided I'd at least be able to make money off of that, if you're not gonna enter and grab all those endorsements. I bet some of the others at school that you wouldn't cave in and go to Nagano." From the look on her face, it was pretty plain to Ranma that she'd placed quite a bit of money on his integrity. She had every right to be pissed.
        Ranma's eyes rolled. "Oh, geez. I can't win around here, can I? Look, Nabiki. Since I might as well make up for the damage to the dojo, lemme clue you in on how to bet on me..." And he leaned over to whisper in her ear. Nabiki's face turned sour, even perhaps a little crestfallen, at the news of Ranma's plans for the Olympics, but then began to brighten as she considered the remoteness of the odds...
       
       

        Author's notes...

        Hiya! Sorry about the unfinished story, but I just wanna convince everyone that, yes, I'm still out here (and while I'm at it, I'd like to convince myself, too).
        Anyway, I think we're gonna enter Ran-chan in the alpine skiing and speed-skating races (Rumiko-sensei already took care of figure-skating, so there's no point in dealing with THAT) And I doubt that he'll be entering the womens' competitions -- the IOC had enough problems with East German women; what makes anyone think they'll accept a woman who really IS a man, ne?
        By the way, is anyone out here familiar with the Olympic or world records for some of these events? I don't have a Guinness book -- a Harp Beer salesman came to the Ucchan a few weeks back, and tossed out all my Guinness stock. The beer he replaced it with's not bad, but I do miss the books...

        Anyway, until next time, ja!
        Itsu mo, Ucchan ^_^ (who's considering entering the luge event with her spatula)