The Phoenix Saga

Ranko sighed softly to herself, running her fingers along the chain-link fence that ran parallel to the sidewalk. She peered through the interlaced metal wire into the river beyond, chuckling as she remembered countless times she had fallen into it after a prank from Akane or a punch from heavens-knew-who. Yeah, not so much with the "oh no, please don't make me a girl" now, are ya, Ranko? She had to admonish herself not to hop up and walk on the top of the fence, just for old time's sake. Don't need to draw that much attention to myself. Not here. Last thing I need right now is people lookin' for autographs in this part of town.

She blushed, waving to a pair of girls running along the sidewalk in the opposite direction in their rush to make it to school before the final bell. Both wore blue and white Furinkan High cheerleading uniforms. Yeah, not a lot of Furinkan school spirit for me, thanks. Yusue High, class of 1992, baby! Mess with the cat, you get the claws!

Stretching her arms high above her head as she turned the corner, she managed another wave for an old woman in a jade green kimono that was ladling water onto the street. "Morning, Mrs. Chinen!" Man, it's nice to walk past you and not be afraid of you, Ranko mused with a tentative smile.

The kindly old lady returned her wave with her ladle hand, straightening her hunched back to look up at the redheaded newcomer. It took the decrepit woman a few moments to do so, but when she did, her smile was warm and sweet. "Well, hello, dear. Do… I know you? You look familiar, but… at my age, sometimes I'm not so good with faces."

Ranko nodded softly, another quiet sigh escaping her lips. "Yeah, I… used to go to school around here."

"That's right," Mrs. Chinen said, slapping her thigh gently with her hand. "I remember! You're one of Mayor Tendo's girls, right?"

The redhead flushed, her smile widening. "Yes, ma'am! You got it!" I really should stop in and say hey to Dad and Kasumi while I'm in this part of town, she thought. Her brow furrowed, and she looked down to her silver cheerleading sneakers. But… they're the last ones I need to be bringing all of this crap to. They'd lose their minds. "I need to get going, but, you have a good day, now!"

"You too, dearie," the sweet old lady replied, waving creakily before returning to her daily uchimizu ritual once the young woman had continued along the sidewalk.

After another few moments of walking, Ranko closed her eyes, inhaling deeply through her nose. I could navigate from here on scent alone, she thought with a smile as she hurried across the street to a strip mall. At its far left end was a storefront with a long red awning, though the signage hung from it had changed since the first time Ranko had set foot in the little restaurant. Not gonna miss that ramen place, she mused as she slid open the door and stepped inside.

"Good morning! Welcome to Uk-chan's!" A bubbly server with long auburn hair darted up to Ranko in a frantic rush despite the fact that the restaurant was nearly empty. "Can I… wait, is that…"

Ranko nodded, giving the server a bashful wave. "Hey! Good to see ya, Tsubasa. Is she around?"

"You bet, Ranko!" The effervescent server in the flowery pink kimono bowed low. "She's just in the back. She'll be right out! Go ahead and grab a seat anywhere you like!"

Nodding again, Ranko approached the open-air griddle counter, sliding her backside up onto one of the red vinyl stools on the customer side. She shook her head, smiling in the direction of the young waiter. He really pulls that look off. I swear, you'd never know he was a guy the way he dresses. But, if it makes him happy… I mean, hell, who am I, of all people, to judge about people screwing around with what boys and girls are supposed to do?

"Ya know, Tsubasa, if you're ever in the market for some really cute dresses, I bet Izzi would love the chance to hook you up. And she'd be able to tailor everything just right for ya, so it's more comfortable." Indeed, she'd changed into her masculine form enough times while wearing dresses - back when such a thing was possible for her - to know how uncomfortable they could sometimes be on a body shaped like a boy's. She bit her lip, wondering again about the circumstances that had led to the curse of Jusenkyo sealing itself as it had on her wedding day - or perhaps earlier. She honestly had no idea. It had been so long since she had even attempted to return to her male form by then, it could have been a year or more that Jusenkyo's magic had laid dormant within her before she knew it, and she wouldn't have had a clue. I'm gonna get my answers soon, she hoped.

Tsubasa charged up to the stool, stars in his eyes. "Really?! You think she would… like… the designer who dresses Ranko freakin' TENDO might make outfits for me?!"

Ranko smiled warmly. Doesn't suck having connections. "Tell you what. We're in the middle of building her a whole new workshop, and once it's done, she'll be pumpin' out cute stuff faster than she ever could before. Come by the Phoenix in a month or so, and tell Izzi you're my friend, and I bet she'll do you a solid. You'll probably have to cover the cost of the fabr…"

The rest of her sentence was lost, along with all of the air in her lungs, when Tsubasa threw himself at her ribs. He hugged the squirming songstress hard enough to nearly knock her off her stool. "Thanks, Ran-chan! You're the freakin' best!"

"Uh, sure!" Ranko chuckled as she slowly pried Tsubasa's arms from around her waist, accidentally knocking the large pink grosgrain bow in his hair askew in doing so. Not really trying to be grabbed at by dudes right now, even ones who look just like girls, she thought.

The beige shoji door to the back room slid open, and a merry voice wafted out from behind it. "Is that who I think it is?"

Ranko, having finally wriggled free of Tsubasa's grasp, waved sheepishly. "Hey, Ukyo."

The chef removed the giant okonomiyaki peel from its holster on her back, resting it on the countertop next to the hot griddle. "C'mere, you." She leaned over the counter, and Ranko stood up on the footrests of her stool to meet her in a hug. "How you doin', sugar? You okay?"

The redhead shook her head balefully as she was released. "Not… especially. Can… can we talk for a minute?" She glanced back at the young man in the flowery kimono, who was busying himself dusting the red vinyl booth benches with a feather duster for probably the third time that day. "Alone?"

Ukyo scanned the empty restaurant. "I think we can arrange that. Hey, Tsu-tsu?" She waited until she had her lone employee's attention before continuing. "Wanna take your break? And go ahead and put the closed sign up for the next hour or so, 'kay? Thanks, hon!"

Ranko waited until the boy in the kimono had exited the restaurant before turning back to Ukyo. "Does that ever get weird for you? Him dressing like that?"

The chef in the blue jumpsuit shrugged. "As long as he keeps my customers happy, I don't give a damn if he dresses like a freakin' mailbox. We get a complaint every once in a while if somebody clocks him as male; I give 'em one warning, and if they say anything after that, I toss 'em out on their asses. Tsubasa's a good guy - a little clingy for my tastes when he first started working here, I'll admit - but once I told him I was in a committed relationship with Crash, he backed off. But he shows up to work, he does what he's told, and he does it with a smile on his face - and he works cheap, besides. What more could you ask for?"

"I guess," Ranko said with a shrug. Her face brightened as Ukyo began pouring a ladle full of viscous batter onto the griddle with a loud sizzle, her stomach growling in appreciation before her lips could do so.

Ukyo used one of the small spatulas strapped to the bandolier across her chest to form the batter into a roughly round shape, speaking as she focused on her work. "I'm glad you came by, Ran-chan. I've been really worried about you since you guys got back."

The redhead swallowed hard. "I'm guessing Crash… told you." She hung her head over the counter, and not even the double helping of shrimp being heaped into the congealing pool of batter could lift her spirits.

"Yeah." Ukyo frowned, turning her eyes up to her dejected friend. "I'm glad he was there for you. Lance, too."

Ranko nodded sadly. "Me too. I'd have been… fuck, who knows where I'd be, or even…" She shuddered, deciding it better not to finish the thought in her mind. "He's a good guy, Ukyo. Real good. Anybody else, and I'd never sleep again knowing I was alone with them in that state. If it had been Shinji sleeping in my room when I woke up… I'd probably have gone and gotten a pregnancy test, just in case." Her stomach lurched at the very thought of it, and she prayed it would right itself before the lunch Ukyo was preparing for her was ready. She fidgeted with a bottle of soy sauce on the countertop as she spoke, just for something to do with her hands and distract herself from the intrusive thoughts.

"Well, I guess the important thing is that you're okay," Ukyo said pensively. "But I can imagine it's rough for you anyway. I mean, any girl that went through something like that would be freaked out, but for you…"

The young songstress slumped forward onto her elbows on the countertop, hanging her head lowly enough for her flame-red hair to pool on the mica surface. "I shoulda seen it coming, Ukyo. I shoulda been ready. And now I just… I don't know what to do now. Everything feels weird. I freak out whenever I'm around guys, or whenever Akane tries to get close. It's like my skin is crawling with spiders and I just wanna shake 'em off and go hide in the closet. It's especially bad around Akane, 'cause like, a part of me feels ashamed 'cause I let it happen, and a part of me… feels dirty somehow, and it's like I don't wanna get it on her."

"That'll pass, honey. I promise." Ukyo carefully flipped the okonomiyaki over on the griddle, spooning a bit of sauce over it as the underside began to cook. "I know it's hard, but you gotta focus on the fact that you are okay. It was close - damn close - but you dodged the bullet. Thank the gods for it, learn from it, and try to move on. What does Akane say about all this?"

Ranko peeled open a pair of disposable chopsticks, breaking the chopstick rest off of the back and separating them. She said nothing.

"... Ranko? You have told her, right?!" Ukyo's voice took on an almost matronly tone as she plated the extra-large okonomiyaki and slid it across the countertop to her waiting friend.

"Of course," Ranko muttered around a mouthful of cabbage and shrimp.

Ukyo looked the chewing redhead over skeptically, resting her fists on her waist. "Liar."

Ranko hung her head in shame, acknowledging the truth with a small nod. "I tried, Ukyo. On the phone, the day after. I swear I did. And I just… the words wouldn't come out. The second I say 'em, I'm not gonna be the same person in her eyes anymore. I'm gonna be…"

"You're gonna be her fucking wife, dumbass. Same as you always were." The chef laid her spatula across the counter, walking around to the customer side and softly putting her arm around her friend as she ate.

With a heavy sigh, Ranko set her chopsticks down on her plate and leaned to her side on the stool, resting her head against her friend's torso. "Depends on who you ask. If you ask Yokai, I'm not even allowed to like her. 'Cause, it doesn't matter if I can sell out stadiums in a dozen countries. Four Japan Record Awards? Who cares?! What's really important to the fans is who I fuck when I go home, I guess."

Ukyo squeezed the redhead tighter, rubbing her back through the mauve sweater dress Ranko wore. "Oh, honey. I know. It breaks my heart that they made you sign that stupid thing. You should have seen Crash the night he found out. Maddest I've ever seen him."

"I'll bet," Ranko said in a hollow tone, trying to convince her stomach to rediscover its interest in her favorite meal. "I cost him a bunch of money with that shit. Shinji damn near quit the band over it. Then again, if a ghost farts too loud near the stage, Shin threatens to walk out on us, so…"

"It wasn't that, dipshit," Ukyo said with a mocking shake of her head, the ever-present white ribbon in her dark brown ponytail bobbing over her shoulder. "He was furious that they put you over the barrel like that, when you were in a bind and just wanted to help your family. I thought he was gonna walk over to the Yokai office and clock that son of a bitch Kondo himself."

Ranko sighed, forcing a bite of shrimp past her lips despite the backflips her stomach was executing. "That's the last thing we'd need. It'd fuck up the new record deal on top of everything else." She spoke as she chewed. After all, Ukyo knows I used to be a dude. I can have a few minutes of break from all the ladylike shit Izzi made me learn. She swallowed hard, clearing her throat with a sip of soda. "They're supposed to talk to us about that next week, and…" Ranko sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Maybe once that's done, we can get back to making music, and I can stop walking on eggshells all the time."

Ukyo walked back around the counter to take her position behind the griddle again. She began to scrape the blackening remnants of batter off the cooktop into the grease trap on the left side with another spatula from the arsenal strapped between her breasts. "I hope so, Ran-chan, but this Kondo douchebag doesn't sound like the letting it go type. Assuming nothing changes, what are you gonna do?"

"Suffer, I guess." Ranko pushed the plate containing her half-eaten lunch away with a regretful sigh. "And the longer it goes, the weirder it gets between me and Akane, and now she's got this friend from school up her ass all the time. Everybody says he's cool, but I know the second I turn my back, he's gonna try to make a move on her."

"And you honestly think that girl's gonna go for something like that?" Ukyo chuckled, squirting a jet of water from a small plastic bottle onto the griddle. She leaned forward with both arms, beginning to clean the sizzling metal surface with a cloth pressed under one of her cooking implements. "Trust me, sugar. If there's anybody who knows what kind of fight that girl would put up for you, it's me. Well, maybe Xian Pu and Kuno's sister, but… they're not important right now."

Ranko shrugged again, hunching over and again resting her elbows on the countertop. "Maybe she'd be better off. I dunno." Her voice was a monotone mumble, entirely devoid of emotion.

Scoffing loudly, Ukyo tossed the dirty washcloth into a white plastic bucket on the floor that still bore most of the label indicating it had once contained pickles. "Ranko Tendo! Honestly, if Akane heard you say that, she'd whack you off that stool so hard, your head would spin. You know she wouldn't do that to you! Never! Besides, if she did, forget her being upset, I'd fucking kill her!"

"She'd have every right to, Uk-chan. I sold her down the fucking river. For money. My mom and my sisters needed help, and I could've called Nabiki, tried to figure something out, but my dumb ass talked myself into a corner, and…" She threw her bamboo chopsticks down atop her half-eaten okonomiyaki. "I might as well have stuck that fucking fancy pen right in her heart. I swore - on my career - on my fucking music - that I wouldn't love her. And I mean, it was a lie. Of course it was a lie! But… I should have told Kondo to shove it up his ass. I should've fought harder. And now, she knows that anytime the going gets rough, I'm gonna screw her over."

Ukyo sighed heavily, leaning over the counter next to Ranko and resting her hand on the redhead's arm. "Look. I'm guessing you haven't talked to her about this, because I swear, you two are fucking allergic to healthy conversation sometimes. But, I bet, if you asked her - if she were here right now, she'd say she understood. Yokai put you in an absolutely bullshit situation. There was no way to win, despite whatever voodoo Nabiki thinks she might have pulled out of her briefcase given enough time. You were presented with several shitty options, and you chose the least shitty one you could in the moment. And I'll bet that if you go home and put your arms around Akane, and tell her that you're in love with her, she'll believe you and won't give a second thought to what some sheet of paper in a file cabinet in Shibuya has to say about it. Hell, there's a five-hundred-year-old scroll on the wall in your dad's dojo that says you two are flippin' sisters, and that didn't stop you two from… well, ya know." She allowed herself a quiet giggle at the thought.

Ranko's head drooped again, and Ukyo had to catch her hair before it dragged in the sauce of her unfinished okonomiyaki. "What am I gonna do, Ukyo? Everything is so fucked…"

"Well, honey, if you ask me, I'd say all your problems are down to the same two questions."

Ukyo waited until her friend looked up to make eye contact before finishing her thought.

"First, you need to figure out who you really trust with all your secrets. And second, you need to figure out how the hell you're gonna keep 'em from everybody else."