The Phoenix Saga

"You've been there, all week, non-stop, with your nose to the grindstone at your dead-end job!"

Ranko bopped around in the narrow alleyway kitchen, grinning as she rapped into the plastic spatula that was doubling as a dynamic microphone. Her hair hung loose about her shoulders, held back by the headband of her earphones. The first mix of her new song in development spun on the home-burned CD in the Sony Discman clipped to the wide satin sash of her pink princess apron. Not quite fast enough, she fretted, furrowing her brow. But… any more and it would be faster than Demon… can I even make sound with my face that fast, and do it clearly enough that people will understand what the hell I'm saying?

She darted past the front door, not noticing the blinking green light on the answering machine mounted on the wall next to the refrigerator, indicating a new message had been received. She rushed into the bathroom, reaching up and pulling the dryer door open to interrupt its cycle. Please be done. I really don't wanna have to deal with this when I get home from work. Ranko quickly hopped back as a blast of hot air belched forward out of the dryer and dissipated into the cramped bathroom.

Tentatively, Ranko stepped forward, sliding her hand into the dryer until it made contact with the down comforter within. Owwww! Hot! Hot! Hot… and still damp, too! Fuck! Sighing, she slammed the dryer door, adding another thirty minutes to the timer. Sorry, Akane, she thought as she glanced balefully down at the still-full washing machine below. Your volleyball stuff probably won't be dry 'til morning.

She sighed heavily, shaking her head as she returned to the kitchen. I shouldn't have spent so long in Nerima today. Really, I'd have been fine if I'd just gone by Ukyo's, but I should've known if I stopped by Dad's place after, Kasumi was gonna make me stay for lunch. Ranko managed a small smirk despite her self-admonition. I've got a strong heart, but not even I have the willpower to resist Kasumi's potstickers. Nobody does.

Between the extra-large okonomiyaki she couldn't finish for breakfast and Kasumi's offering, Ranko wasn't hungry in the slightest, but she didn't think the leftover potstickers Kasumi had sent her home with would be enough for Akane's dinner. Those'll make a decent lunch for her tomorrow when I'm at class. But for tonight… She opened the refrigerator, pulling out a thin package wrapped in butcher paper and beginning to unravel it.

Tonight, I'm gonna push past it. I'm gonna make her a nice meal, and I'm dressed all skimpy, and I'm gonna smile real pretty…

She glanced down at her hips, chuckling to herself as with the realization that the fuschia bodycon dress she wore didn't even cover as much of her legs as her frilly apron did.

… and I'm gonna make it happen.

Ranko removed the tape from the bundle of butcher paper and began to unravel it to reveal a quartet of eel filets. Okay. Never done this before, and I'm under time pressure. But I can do this. Besides… She glanced up at the digital clock on the microwave. Akane should've been home more than an hour ago. What the hell's keeping her?!

She pulled open the pantry, digging in it until her arms were loaded with soy sauce, sugar, mirin and a bottle of sake from the top shelf. Arraying the containers on the counter, Ranko consulted the index card Ayako had given her the night before, double-checking the amounts before beginning to measure all four substances into an aluminum mixing bowl.

No matter how much my skin crawls, no matter how freaked out I get, I'm gonna remember my training, Ranko assured herself in her mind as she vigorously whisked the sauce. Partition my mind. Try to put it away. Try not to think about what happened in Bangkok.

Ranko dipped the four filets into the sauce, getting them well-coated in the thick, sweet-smelling brown liquid before laying them in her pre-heated griddle pan. She hopped back each time she released one of the filets for fear of even the slightest splash of hot unagi sauce splattering onto her ever-sensitive skin.

Tonight, after work, if it kills me, I'm gonna make love to my w…

Ranko's eyes rocketed up, and she swiveled in place, a startled expression on her face, as the front door crashed open. "WHAT the?!" She pulled off her headphones, blinking up at her wife. "Oh, shit, Akane! You scared the crap out of me! You okay?!"

Akane nodded and pulled her backpack off of her shoulder, tossing it into the corner. It hit the wall at almost waist height and slid to the floor, leaving a damp spot on the wallpaper where it made contact. "Yeah, I'm alright. It's just a freakin' typhoon out there. I told you, you didn't have to hold dinner for me."

The redhead blinked in surprise. "I didn't. I'm running late; I had… errands to run this morning after class. Dinner's gonna be a few more minutes. I'm sorry."

"Didn't you get my message? I called you." Akane looked over at the wall, noting the light still blinking on the answering machine. "You had your music on, and didn't hear the phone ring. Didn't you?"

Ranko blushed, reaching down and pressing stop on her Discman, which was still playing Jacob's first draft of the new song she was writing on repeat. "Guilty as charged. Sorry! You should'a called my pager; I keep that on vibrate, so I'd have noticed it."

"Next time," Akane said with a nod. "I'm gonna go get changed. I'm drenched and I'm freezing."

"Sounds good! I love you!" Ranko waved, but Akane didn't see it, as she'd already hurried into the girls' bedroom. A trail of water droplets followed her along the floor.

"Love you too," Akane called back, having already peeled her soaked red jumper dress from her clammy skin. She stepped into the bathroom, tossing the wet garment into the bathtub with a moist plop before setting about removing her white undershirt. When that and her sotted undergarments had joined her dress in the bathtub, she reached for a fluffy lavender towel and began drying her hair. "At least the storm's starting to ease up!" Akane shouted over the loud dryer through the open bathroom door. "Hopefully it'll be stopped by the time we leave for work, and you won't have to change into something dry for the stage."

Ranko pushed the final button to start the rice cooker, turning to call back in response. "Hope so! I don't really have anything at the bar right now to wear. Brought everything home to wash it and I keep forgetting to bring a couple things back. Remind me, next time it's not raining?"

"You got it!" Akane yelled back in reply, wrapping the towel around her breasts and walking back into her bedroom. Gotta put on something warm. Fuck, I don't think I'll ever get the chill out of my bones. She opened the closet, finding it not yet restocked. Damn, Akane thought. "Ranko?! I thought you were gonna do laundry today!"

Shit, Ranko thought, tossing her whisk in the sink. "I have been, but the blanket's taking forever to dry, and it's holding everything else up! Sorry!"

Well, if I don't have any of my warm clothes clean, I'll just borrow some of yours, Akane thought, pulling Ranko's mauve sweater dress from a hanger. One of the many advantages of being married to a girl. After donning a matching set of matching lime green undergarments, she slipped into the dress, rubbing her skin through it for warmth. Brrrrr.

Akane walked over to the little desk, moving the mouse of her computer to wake it. Wonder if Professor Okara has posted our lab grades to the BBS yet, she mused as she waited for the screen to warm up. Next to the mousepad, which featured a fairy dancing in a forest of huge mushrooms, a spiral notebook lay open on the desk. Both pages of the open spread were filled with English words in Ranko's handwriting, written in blue ball-point pen. Akane recognized the format; Ranko only wrote in couplets like that when she was writing song lyrics.

The Dapper Dragons' number-one fan picked up the book, beginning to read.

I see you sneakin' 'round the joint, so we're all on the same page.

I've got a damn good vantage point from up here on the stage!

I see you over there making those eyes and talkin' smooth,

thinking that you might go ahead and try to make a move

I'll spare you from my laughter, offer you a course correction -

you ain't gettin' what you're after, but you still might want protection!

Guess you think I might ignore you trying to steal my baby's heart,

but I've never lost a fight before! I'm not about to start!

Akane reeled back, her eyes wide. Does she honestly think… Sho? I can't believe her! After all the times we've talked about it?! Everybody's told her nothing's happening! Steeling her nerves, she continued to read.

[Chorus]

Thought you had a shot, but you ain't ever gonna get it!

Move your ass along, or bitch, you're gonna regret it!

I've got a nasty streak in me when it comes to the fellas,

and I promise you, you'll see it if you go and make me jealous!

You can try until you die but you'll just never be this fine!

That's why the one you want

The one you want

The one you want

That's why the one you wanna be beside is mine!

Clenching her fist, Akane slumped down into her cheap black computer chair hard enough to nearly send it skittering out from under her on its plastic caster wheels.

I know I've been gone too much, but now I'm putting up resistance.

That's not yours, so don't you touch it! Go ahead and keep your distance.

Sorry, but access denied; afraid this area's restricted.

Should've asked before you tried, because I promise you, I've licked it.

I really think it's kinda funny, and I don't know what compels you

to try and beat somebody that the gods all touch themselves to!

I'm turning up the heat with every single sultry kiss.

Do you think you can compete against a girl who looks like this?

Akane rubbed her temples with her fingers. Her cheeks flushed with anger, but at least she was no longer cold. I can't let her do this. It'll destroy him. And he doesn't even deserve it! Her eyes turned to the opposite page, where after an indication to repeat the chorus, the third and fourth verses were packed together.

I think the party's over, honey, time for me to write your epitaph.

When's the last time anybody ever asked you for your autograph?

You might be smart, but damn it, you can't do the things that I can:

takin' over half the planet with my mother fucking rock band!

Yeah, when I make the speakers thump, I got, like, twenty thousand cheering.

I've been telling you for months, but yo, you must be hard of hearing!

Yeah, when I'm singin', when I'm rappin', I'm explosive ecstasy.

Go ask Saburo what happens when somebody fucks with me!

My sweat is turnin' into mist because my rage is gettin' hotter.

You don't wanna be the one who pissed off Hana Takahashi's daughter!

You wanna be a friend, that's cool; there's boundaries expected.

Try to play me for a fool, you'll find yourself getting dissected!

It's prob'ly for the best that you give up this thing and quit.

I catch you sneaking in the Viper's nest? Your throat is getting bit.

So I'm gonna warn you one last time; back off and let it be,

or there'll be no one you can hide behind to save your ass from me!

Akane exhaled heavily, pushing her chair back from the desk. She closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. I can't believe she would think I would… after everything we've been through together! I've got to put a stop to this, before she makes a fool of herself and embarrasses my friend, to boot. She stood, picking up the notebook and walking out into the living room.

"Hey, Akane! Dinner's almost done," Ranko called over the merry song of the rice cooker indicating it was finished. "Nice dress!" She giggled as she turned back to her griddle pan, flipping one of the eel filets in it with a long pair of tongs.

Akane swallowed hard, holding up her wife's notebook. "Ranko, I, um… I found this. And I think we need to talk about it."

The redhead turned, and her eyes widened at the sight of her black Ranko and the Dapper Dragons notebook in Akane's hand. "Akane, I… what are you doing going through my stuff?!"

"I didn't go through anything, Ranko! You left it open on my freaking desk! But I don't know where you're getting these ideas about Sho. He's never tried anything. He's never touched me inappropriately. He's never come on to me. You need to stop this with him. Talk to him. Something. But I won't let you go up on stage and roast him like he's some creep. Like you did with Not Yours, Don't Touch. I won't!"

Ranko growled, tossing her tongs to the countertop with a loud clatter. "I wasn't gonna perform it! Not until he gave me a reason, anyway."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, dummy!" Akane slammed the notebook down on the dining room table hard enough to rattle the plates that were already laid out for dinner. "There is no reason, and there never will be! He's been a perfect gentleman! And even if he wasn't - even if he did try to do anything with me, the fact you think I'd even consider letting him?! Do you not remember what I did to basically every boy in my graduating class who tried getting with me when I didn't want it?! After all this time together, you honestly think I would…"

Sighing sullenly, Ranko hung her head. "Truth be told, Akane, with the way everything's been lately, I don't know what I believe anymore, okay?! But even with me being an absolute fucking mess lately, if you think I'm gonna sit there quiet and watch him make eyes at you like that…"

Akane stomped forward, anger rising in her eyes. She felt her heart pounding in her chest, and a bead of sweat running down the back of her borrowed sweater dress. "You wanna talk about making eyes?! I was on campus today, and people are holding up pictures of you and saying you're taking Crash back to your hotel room when you're away! How am I supposed to react to that?!"

The songstress' eyes bulged as if they were about to fall out of her head. Oh, gods! No! Did somebody get a picture of him taking me back to my room that night in Thailand? Maybe they did… fuck, I don't remember! I don't remember a fucking thing after that guy screwed with my drink!

"Akane… I… uh, I promise, I didn't d-do any… It's not what you think, I s-swear…"

Wait, Akane thought, rocking back on her heels. She's nervous! And she didn't want me looking through her stuff. Why is she acting so dodgy about this? Unless… it couldn't be that she actually…

"Okay, Ranko. Enough's enough. I've tried to be patient, but I think it's time you tell me everything. And I mean, right now." She pulled out one of the wooden chairs from under the dining room table, turning it to face the alleyway kitchen and sitting down.

Ranko shook her head emphatically, turning her eyes away and hoping she did so before Akane saw the shame in them. "I told you, I don't wanna talk about it! I just feel gross about the whole thing! About EVERYTHING! Why can't you just accept that I don't even wanna think about it?!"

"Because that's not what people do when they trust each other! I want answers, Ranko!" Akane rocketed out of her chair. "Please!"

Ranko looked up from the floor, anger and shame competing for space in her eyes. "Well, you're NOT GETTING THEM TONIGHT! You don't just get to decide when I'm ready to talk about shit! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE ABOUT IT!"

Akane sighed, digging her silver-painted fingernails into her palms in her fists. "Fine! You want me to leave you alone? You got it! I won't say a fucking word to you all night at work, and when we get home, after you've dumped your soul out all night long for three hundred strangers, maybe you can find a spare minute to talk to your wife!"

"Yeah?! Well, you don't need to worry about that, because I'm NOT GOING!" Ranko crossed her arms defiantly. "Tell Yui to put your nosy ass up on the stage, and see how you like it when everybody in the world is crawling up your ass to get into your business!"

"I…" Akane bit her lip, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "Fine. If that's the way you want it, Ranko." She reached down for her still-dripping teal backpack, tossing it in the chair she'd just vacated. She unzipped it,pulling out a small white purse that she strapped over her shoulder. Leaving the open backpack sitting on the chair, she walked wordlessly toward the door and unlocked it.

Ranko rolled her eyes, gesturing to the backpack. "You just gonna leave your shit chilling there like that?"

Akane shrugged, not even bothering to look up at her wife. "Why not?! Seems like I'm the only one of us that doesn't have anything to hide." She pulled the door open, exiting the apartment and slamming the door shut behind her hard enough to rattle the answering machine from the wall next to the refrigerator. It hung limply from a short length of tan cord, and when it swung toward the fridge, it bumped the large green button on the front.

"You have. One. New message," came the robotic announcement, followed by a familiar voice.

"Hey, baby? You there? Ranko? ….. Okay, well, I guess you're out. So I'm stuck on campus…"

Ranko reached up, grabbing handfuls of her loose red hair and pulling on her scalp. "FUCK! Well, THAT went well!"

She received no reply, save the shrill, piercing bleat of the smoke detector mounted above her stove - and the griddle pan full of charred eel that still rested on it.