Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ranma was in shock. He could hardly believe it. A mutant? the words echoed endlessly in his mind. Not that he had anything against mutants in general—Ranma preferred to judge a person’s worth by who they were rather than what—but it just seemed so… so strange. So unusual. So unlikely. He stared in shock at the bald man who continued to speak, explaining in broad but neutral language exactly what mutation meant: the next stage of evolution for humanity. At least, a possible stage of evolution, as evolution was not always limited to a single branch.

Beside the bald man, who sat in a wheelchair, stood a tall redhead who, any other day, Ranma might have worried about being engaged to. Any other day didn’t include three foreign strangers—the third a shorter, stocky man in a heavy brown jacket and jeans who stood on the opposite side of the redhead—coming to his home at the Tendo Dojo to offer… a full ride scholarship program to “the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters.”

“We would also be willing to accommodate certain other necessities. We understand that this is a tremendous upheaval of your family and life,” the bald man, who had introduced himself as “Charles Xavier,” the headmaster of the school and presumably who it had been named for, said.

“I still can’t believe it,” Ranma said, turning to look in surprise at the others.

“There is no shame in being a mutant,” the redhead, Jean Grey, said in a slightly sharp tone.

“What?” Ranma turned back around. “Who’s sayin’ there is? I’m just surprised.”

“Jean,” Xavier said in a low voice, before addressing Ranma. “Certain people harbor a racial prejudice against people with an awakened X-gene. There has been considerable tension along both sides as a result.”

“That’s stupid,” Ranma replied bluntly. “It’s not anyone’s fault or choice to be a mutant. That would be like hatin’ someone just because, I dunno, they’re Chinese or have black skin.”

The entire room went silent for a moment and Ranma wondered why everyone was staring at him. “What?”

“I’m gonna tell him,” the shorter man sidebarred to his companions.

“Logan!” Jean replied sharply.

“I think,” another voice spoke up, and Ranma’s head swiveled to the speaker. “I think I’m going to accept the offer. I should learn how to use the abilities this mutation will grant me.”

“Yeah,” a second voice agreed. “I think I’ll accept too.”

“Me, too,” a third voice spoke up. “I guess that’s kind of unanimous, huh?”

At the center of the room sat three young girls. The Tendo sisters—Kasumi, the eldest; Nabiki, the middle; Akane, the youngest. The offer had been for them. Apparently, Professor Xavier had a device that could detect awakening or active X-genes around the planet. And all three Tendo sisters had active X-genes.

It still boggled Ranma’s mind.

“Y-You can’t, though, h-how will you carry on the engagement?” Soun Tendo, the girls’ father, protested. The tall, mustachioed man’s cheeks were wet with the ever-present tears.

“Daddy, I think there’s more important things to worry about than being engaged to Ranma-kun,” Nabiki said. “Besides, what if he doesn’t want to be engaged to a mutant?”

“Why would I care about that?” Ranma asked.

“Foolish, as if my boy would care about such things.” Ranma’s father, one Genma Saotome, pushed the bridge of his glasses up his nose. “I may not have been the finest of fathers, but I instilled in my son the wisdrbblrlbrlgrg.”

As Genma droned on, Ranma handily interrupted him with a convenient bottle of water, leaving a panda in his father’s place as the older man’s transformative curse took hold. Even as the foreign guests stared in shock, Ranma leaned over, a hand cupped to his ear. “What was that, Pops? Instilled in me the what?”

“Did that man just…” Jean seemed to be at a loss.

“He… he did. And he is. I smell panda now,” Logan said. “But he was a man. Is he a mutant, too?”

Genma did not take his sudden transformation lying down, and began wrestling with Ranma as the guests watched, offering amazed commentary at someone who was seemingly a normal human fending off a full-grown panda. Little did they know…

Ranma casually deflected two swipes from his transformed father, laughing triumphantly. “Too slow, Pops! Maybe it’s time you gave up the—”

Genma suddenly lunged forward, grabbing his son by the shirt and hefting him overhead before Ranma could react. With a triumphant snarl, the panda lobbed Ranma at the koi pond. Ranma’s response was to colorfully question his father’s parental origins before he landed with a splash.

A second splash heralded Ranma’s return, now in her transformed state—much shorter, red-haired, and very definitely female as she slammed into her panda father. The two fighters resumed their brawl in the yard, trading attacks back and forth, leaving the foreign audience stunned and baffled.

“Ranma-kun! Mr. Saotome! I have some hot water for you!” Kasumi called from the walkway, stepping out with a pair of familiar battered brass kettles.

Ranma shoved her father away, growling. “Deal with you later,” she said, turning to accept the kettle with a smile. “Thank you, Kasumi-san.”

“Yes, my thanks, Kasumi-chan.” Genma had also restored his human form. “As I was saying, I have instilled in my son the very best of intentions. It is simply not in his nature nor his nurture to be concerned about race or birth.”

“Or, in other words,” Nabiki interjected. “Being on the road and seeing so many people for his twelve year training journey as he did, Ranma probably met a bunch of different people and the idea of racism or bigotry never occurred to him. And I’ll even admit it, Ranma-kun, in that regard, I do consider you remarkably pure-hearted. I’m sure the world will one day ruin that innocence.”

“Wait, there are people who seriously hate others just because of how they were born or what color their skin is?” Ranma asked. “I thought you guys were pulling my leg!”

“Unfortunately, not. Mutants have faced a great deal of discrimination over the years. In fact, ‘mutant’ used to be a derogatory term to refer to those with an active X-gene,” Xavier explained. “Some still try to use it as such, but many of us have taken the term for ourselves and wear it with pride.”

“Well, good!” Ranma asserted, crossing his arms. “It ain’t right to hate someone because they were born with an extra gene or somethin’. On a related note, point me in the direction of whoever’s ass I gotta kick for this.”

“I like this kid,” Logan said with a grin.

Jean and the Professor shared a look. After a moment, Xavier smiled and Jean nodded with an uncertain expression. The bald man faced forward once again. “After some consideration, while there was no indication that Mr. Saotome has an active X-gene, I would also like to extend an offer of a full ride scholarship to him as well, contingent on his maintaining a certain standard of performance at the institute.” His smile widened slightly as he leaned forward, spreading his hands. “In this small way, we hope to perhaps help him to better understand and appreciate the struggle of mutants while also minimizing the disruption to the clear family dynamic here.”

“So, full ride, and I just gotta keep my grades up? What’s your phys ed program like?” Ranma asked.

“Oh, I think you’ll like it, kid,” Logan said with a smirk. “I’ve got a pretty good read on you now.”

“Ominous!” Nabiki quipped.

“I’m in, then,” Ranma said.

“Excellent. Now, to help with the burden of the move, Jean and Logan will remain in Tokyo for the next several days,” Xavier said. “They will assist with acquiring four passports, as well as arranging for transportation. There’s no time limit on fulfillment of this offer but we do ask that you work as quickly as you can for your own sakes.”

“Akane and I will have to withdraw from school. Ranma, too,” Nabiki thought out loud.

“The expense budget we’re allotted will cover refunding the costs that the three of you paid to attend,” Jean promised.

Ranma looked up in thought. “I’ll have to let Mom know. Uh… Do you girls mind if I tell her that you’re mutants?”

The girls did not mind, so Ranma stood, heading for the phone. After the wedding debacle, Ranma’s mother had moved back out to focus on rebuilding the Saotome home, so he dialed the number for his family residence. After a few rings, the line clicked over to a voicemail, so Ranma left a brief message asking his mother to call or drop by as soon as she could.

As he hung up, he turned, coming face to face with Genma. “Boy, we need to talk,” he said, walking for the dojo. “Come with me.”

Blinking, Ranma followed behind the older man, puzzled. Nobody else was present as the pair entered the dojo, and Genma walked to the center of the room before turning around. His expression was unusually grim.

“Something you ought to know, boy,” Genma said. “I’m a mutant, too.”

Ranma blinked. “R-Really? Wait, does that mean—”

“No,” Genma said with a sigh. “No, as far as I know, you’re still a baseline human. Probably got that from your mother. No, be proud, boy. Everything you’ve accomplished is a result of your stubborn refusal to give up and your dedication to training. No, I’ve had an active mutation gene most of my life, but the trigger that actually awakened my powers… was Jusenkyo.”

As Genma spoke, Ranma noticed his features began to slowly change. Ranma’s eyes widened as he saw the stocky, bulky man shift into a trimmer build, his face changing to match and his voice losing some of the gravelly bite. “That fall into Shonmaoniichuuan awakened the power of transformation.”

“Wait, you can shapeshift? But then… why do you still turn into a panda?”

“Because Jusenkyo doesn’t particularly care if you’re a mutant or not,” Genma snapped. “I can’t use my power to shift back when I change because of the curse.” He slowly shifted back into the form Ranma knew. “I thought maybe Jusenkyo might have awakened an X-gene in you, but it didn’t. Nor did any of the other battles that have come your way. If not even Saffron could trigger that in you, I doubt it exists to awaken.”

“Is that a problem?” Ranma asked warily.

“Only if you make it one, boy,” Genma said, putting a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Despite how it might seem, I have always tried to raise you as best I could. Do you think any differently of me knowing I’m a mutant?”

“My judgment of you is pretty much entirely based on you possibly using that power to bilk someone and has more to do with you being you.”

Genma smirked. “Like you do with your curse?”

Ranma grimaced at that but turned away. He wasn’t exactly proud of what he did with his curse, but he also took a certain amount of pride in the fact that his female form was capable of eliciting a response like that from the unwary and unwitting, like Tokyo’s hapless food cart vendors.

“Of course, shameful pride,” a woman’s voice suddenly spoke up, and Ranma whirled back around, face to face with a younger and absolutely stunning brunette woman who was nearly spilling out of her plain white gi. “What can I expect from an amateur? Maybe it’s my fault for not teaching you any better, boy.”

The voice was utterly wrong but the words, the speech pattern… “Pops?!”

“Pretty impressive transformation, isn’t it, boy?” the woman asked, crossing her arms under her chest. “Complete, from what I understand.”

“C-complete?” Ranma wheezed.

“At least as complete as yours. Want to spar with your ‘mother,’ boy?”

“I’d rather you turn back to… to normal! Or whatever passes for normal!” Ranma spat out, his brain trying to process the situation. “Does—Does Mom know?”

As Genma shifted back into his original form, he smirked. “Do you really want to know, boy?” At Ranma’s confused stare, the man shrugged. “Who do you think helped me come up with that body?”

Ranma thought about that question… then turned slightly green. “That… is entirely too much information,” he concluded. “I think I’m gonna go pack for the trip.”

“Boy.” Genma’s voice stopped Ranma mid-turning around. “Don’t let my stupidity control you. You’ve resisted me this long and I am now well aware of how stupid I’ve been. If I can be both so easily, so can you, if you finally let go of the poor lessons I’ve taught you.”

Ranma put his hand on the door. “I can’t tell if that’s the smartest thing or the stupidest thing you’ve said yet, Pops,” he said, sliding open the door and going through.

It would be utterly impossible to keep such an undertaking as moving four people across the world under wraps, at least in Nerima. The Kuno family’s pockets ran deep enough to buy the secret, and Ranma’s decency saw it delivered to Ukyo in turn. In short order, that meant the Joketsuzoku were also aware. Ranma’s mother, Nodoka Saotome, had taken the news fairly well, at least.

Not having the funds to pursue Ranma to the United States for her engagement, Ukyo was forced to bow out with the hope that he would return a free man and choose her one day. Likewise, while the Joketsuzoku were more persistent, they lacked the resources to pursue someone all the way to the United States, where their activities would undoubtedly meet far worse scrutiny than they had in the bewitched Furinkan ward of Nerima City, Tokyo.

If anything, Ranma was fairly disappointed in how subdued the goodbyes were. Perhaps a fraction of that disappointment was also that while the Tendos each packed several suitcases to load onto the Xavier Institute’s private jet, when Logan had come over to offer Ranma’s assistance with loading up, he had only two things to load—a single suitcase and a battered leather backpack.

To be honest, he hadn’t even needed the suitcase. It was mostly clothes that had been bought for “Ranko Tendo” during a brief period where his mother had thought him to be a cousin of the Tendo sisters.

A sour grimace twisted his lips to think of it. The sum total of Ranma Saotome contained in a beaten leather travel pack. He had more as Ranko Tendo than he did as himself. He wanted to punch something but the plane was already in the air and flying across the Pacific. It did occur to him that the plane’s metal shell was probably not suited to withstanding the sudden and violent devastation he was capable of unleashing, and so he simply sat sulking in his seat.

Red fluttered past his vision as Jean Grey, the woman from the Institute, sat down across from him. “Is everything alright, Saotome-san?” she asked in flawless Japanese.

Ranma furrowed his brow in thought. According to what Jean and Logan had shared, Logan possessed a healing factor that made Ranma’s own rapid healing look like a joke. Certainly, Ranma couldn’t come back from a punctured heart, or at least he had no desire to test that theory. Logan could. Jean, on the other hand, was apparently an incredibly powerful psychic, with both telepathic and telekinetic powers. Ranma had seen a brief smile from them both when he had expressed that he simply thought their powers were “neat.”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just… I saw everythin’ the girls had to pack and then me…”

“You had almost nothing. Just a pack and a suitcase.”

“It’s not even that. The suitcase isn’t even really me.” He fidgeted slightly as he considered how to word what he was trying to say. “You saw my curse back at the dojo.”

“Yes. Your transformation was… definitely surprising to say the least,” Jean admitted. She idly twirled a length of her own hair around one finger. “It’s been a long time since I ever met someone with the same shade as me.”

Ranma cracked a smirk. “Got the hair from my mom,” he admitted as his mood lightened just a little bit. “I take after her in a lot of ways, apparently. Anyway, the backpack is everything that’s me, besides a few things that wouldn’t fit so they went in the suitcase. Otherwise, the suitcase was… all stuff that my mom bought me before she found out who I was.” Ranma sighed, his pride fleeing him at the memory of deceiving his mother like that. “All of that belongs to ‘Ranko Tendo,’ a girl who doesn’t really exist.”

“I see. Or, at least, I see what you have chosen to reveal to me.” Jean frowned in thought, a finger hooking over her chin. “Perhaps Ranko Tendo doesn’t exist. But, then, why keep the items?”

“Well, Mom bought most of it. Some of it,” Ranma hedged. “I don’t wanna hurt her feelings by throwin’ it all out.”

“But then why take it with you?” Jean pressed. “I’m sure she would have held onto it for you.”

Ranma frowned. Why had he taken it all with him? As Jean said, his mother would surely hold the girlish clothing. Or trash it herself when he wasn’t going to use it anymore.

“Maybe Ranko Tendo didn’t really exist,” Jean said. “But, just maybe, Ranma Saotome—both man and woman—has more to discover about who he and she really are than either of them thought.”

“You think I’m a man and a woman?”

“I only think it’s possible,” Jean said, standing up. “Only you can say for sure.” With that, she left, her red hair swaying behind her as she made her way to where the Tendo sisters were seated. Ranma briefly frowned at her back, before turning the frown inward.

Man and woman, he thought. That’s ridiculous. Isn’t it?

Is it?

Of course it is. I’m a man among men.

Could be a woman among women, too. Easily. Mom taught me, I have a bunch of examples to follow—and Pops told me to forget his stupid lessons. Like about girls being weak, probably.

Ranma shook his head in thought. Doing something simply because his father would approve? The thought put a wry grin on his face as he was ready to reject that particular thought out of hand. Doing something that would run counter to everything he had been raised with and taught for the sake of riling up said father, especially that version of said father?

That was something Ranma could get behind.

Alright, let’s entertain this insanity. Woman among women. Wouldn’t that mean dating guys and stuff? he asked himself.

Why would it? he countered, and he realized this second voice sounded like his female form. It made sense for him to internalize the debate in that way. Male and female.

Well, man among men means having a lot of girls, doesn’t it? According to Mom? he thought.

I don’t think even Mom has a really clear idea on what a man among men is, she reasoned back. Besides, I don’t like guys. Well, not in that way, anyway.

Well, that’s a relief, he thought back sardonically. What about flower arrangement, dresses, cooking, sewing?

What about it? she asked. I like cooking. I like wearing a pretty dress and knowing I’ve got every eye on the street—even the guys’. I don’t want to do anything with them but I like knowing I could have them eating out of the palm of my hand if I wanted. I kind of like sewing, too. Maybe we can drop the flower arrangement, though.

Ranma blinked, not having expected himself—or perhaps it was herself?—offering such a reasonable retort. And it was true. He enjoyed cooking. He enjoyed being a head-turner, in either form. He didn’t really have a problem with sewing.

And bein’ a housewife? he asked.

A bit traditional for my tastes but I’d probably be that anyway if I ran a dojo. Maybe my wife could be the real breadwinner, she thought, almost amused.

Alright, alright, I’ve got me, he groused. It’s not as easy as just doing it, though.

Sure, it is, she replied. But, baby steps. Just like my first kata. I’m not going to get this down on the first day.

Baby steps, he reminded himself.

It was a start.

It was raining as the plane landed. Not nearly heavy enough to warrant a different airport, but enough that when they stepped outside, Ranma’s curse was triggered. Baby steps, she reminded herself, shrugging off the change.

“Sorry about the weather,” Jean said, this time speaking English. “A friend of ours could change it but she tries not to meddle too much unless she has to.”

“Get used to sudden rain squalls around Ranma,” Nabiki replied with a smirk. “The longest periods of clear weather that Furinkan had were when he was locked in girl form or out of the district.”

“Laugh it up, Nabiki,” Ranma grumbled, retrieving her things to load in one of the two cars that were waiting. Ranma was apparently going to travel in a car with Logan, while the Tendo sisters would pool in with Jean.

“Stop make fun of Ranma, Nabiki,” Akane said in halting English. She frowned, obviously realizing the sentence wasn’t completely correct, then glared at Ranma.

“What did I do this time?” Ranma asked tiredly as she shut the trunk of Logan’s car.

“Where you learn speak English so good?” Akane asked. “Hinako grades not good as mine.”

“Pops and I stayed at one of the U.S. Marine bases for a bit on the training trip,” Ranma replied. “I was like eight and he wanted me to learn some Muay Thai and Jiu-Jitsu, and I ended up picking up English while I was there, but only speakin’ it, I’m not so great at reading and writing.”

“In any language,” Nabiki quipped. Ranma glared at her.

“It is alright, Akane,” Kasumi said, also in English and resting a hand on Akane’s shoulder. “My English also is not perfect, we will be learning together.”

Jean cleared her throat. “If everyone is all packed, we should get going,” she said. “Professor Xavier and the rest of the school are expecting us.”

“Shotgun!” Nabiki and Ranma said at the same time, hopping into the front passenger seats of their respective cars. Kasumi and Akane, looking puzzled, got into the back seat of Jean’s car, while Logan simply raised an eyebrow at Ranma as he got into the driver’s seat.

“Kinda pointless to call shotgun when I’m the only one in here with ya, isn’t it, kid?” Logan asked as he began to drive.

“Well, I’ve always wanted to do it just once, so even if it doesn’t matter…”

Logan smirked. “Alright, kid, fair enough.” He turned the radio on to a music station, keeping the volume low.

“So, what’s an obvious adrenaline junkie doing at the school of peace and inclusion?” Ranma asked. Logan glanced over at her.

“Call it therapy,” Logan said. “Chuck, the Professor, he helped me out of some pretty bad spots. Plus, while we want to be peaceful and inclusive, Chuck’s not stupid. If you want peace…”

“Prepare for war,” Ranma replied. Si vis pacem para bellum, she thought. It was a phrase she had learned from one of the Marines, and quite possibly the only Latin she would ever know besides some random pissant with a grudge and magical item coming at her.

“My turn,” Logan said. “What’s an obvious adrenaline junkie doing hanging around a nice, quiet Tokyo home with three sweet girls like that?”

Ranma chuckled. “Fair play,” she acknowledged. “It’s a matter of honor. I’m engaged to marry one of ‘em and take over the family dojo. Technically, it’s for any of the three, but the big push is on Akane because she’s the martial artist of the family.”

“Alright, that’s the answer of honor,” Logan said. “And I’ve spent enough time in Japan to know what that really means. Now, how do you really feel?”

Ranma frowned. Whatever else he was, Logan was damn perceptive, that was for sure. “I’m only sixteen,” she said. “I’m not ready to get married. They’re not ready to get married. And… I don’t know if I really want to be married to one of them.”

“How do you really feel about them?”

“I love them. But they’re like sisters to me,” Ranma admitted. Somehow, it was easy to admit that to the regenerative mutant. Maybe it’s because he can obviously already tell, she mused. “Maybe, if we try, we could have something different, but that’s how I feel. Even Akane, and Ucchan, are more like siblings than anything else to me.”

Logan was silent for a moment as the streets of New York went by. Ranma turned to look out the window, and the car ahead was lost in the blur of traffic. Finally, Logan spoke up again. “Talk to Chuck. He might have some ideas. And he knows some really good lawyers.”

Ranma raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “Alright.” It would definitely be something to keep in mind, she supposed.

“Whoa.”

This was the only word that Ranma, now male after Logan had made a brief stop for a coffee and also got him some hot water, could give as he took in the Institute. The rain had stopped and the sun was peeking out again, and the vast campus of the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters made every other school Ranma had ever seen look absolutely paltry by comparison.

“Nice place, huh, kid?” Logan asked with a grin as he popped the trunk for Ranma.

“I think you even beat Toudai,” Ranma said as he grabbed his pack and suitcase. The pack was immediately slung over his shoulders and he gripped the case in his left hand. “Where are the others?”

“Jean beat us here by a few minutes, so she’s getting the girls settled in over at the girls’ dorm,” Logan explained. “Your guide ought to be here to show you—”

A rush of air interrupted Logan. At the same time, a tall and well-built young man with silver-hair appeared, where he had not been a moment ago, with arms crossed. Ranma had barely caught the movement before he arrived and immediately attributed it to some level of super speed. “Hey there, Logan, took ya long enough,” the young man said, grinning.

“Blame traffic,” Logan said. “Here’s your new mentee, Ranma Saotome. Kid, this is Pietro Maximoff, aka ‘Quicksilver.’ His mutation makes him superhumanly fast.”

Pietro held a hand out and Ranma shook it, smirking. “I’m pretty quick myself, but I don’t think I’m superspeed fast,” Ranma admitted.

“What’s your mutant power, Saotome?” Pietro asked.

“He doesn’t have a mutation,” Logan answered for Ranma. “He’s a baseline human.”

Pietro blinked, glancing rapidly between Logan and Ranma. “But still attending mutant school?”

“Chuck’s got a weird idea about it; he’s a good kid, though.” Logan shrugged. “Take it up with Chuck if you got a real problem with it.”

“Is a baseline really going to be able to keep up with mutants?” Pietro asked, sounding doubtful.

“Bet I can and bet I will,” Ranma replied with a grin, eager to rise to the challenge.

Pietro grinned back. “Alright, I think I see what you like about him, Logan. Alright, Saotome, let’s make this a little contest, shall we?” He glanced Ranma over, then jerked his thumb in a given direction. “Boys’ dorms are this way. I’ll take your suitcase and bag and go at half-speed. If you can beat me to the building, I’ll buy lunch anywhere you want off-campus; if I win, even with your bags, you buy me lunch in the on-campus commissary.”

Ranma considered the challenge, eyeing Pietro. At the speed the boy had shown already, half-speed seemed like it would still be well outside of what Ranma could match for now even if he put everything he could into a dead run. On the other hand, she mused, eyes slightly widening. “With my bags, you said?” Ranma replied with a grin. Pietro nodded. “Alright, Speedy. You’re on!” With that, Ranma was off like a shot, clutching his bags closely.

In terms of speed, it was just as Ranma had thought—no contest. Pietro easily beat him to the dorms. However, after a few attempts at getting the bags, Pietro had abandoned the suitcase and backpack and simply ran to the “finish line,” looking smug with his arms crossed as Ranma arrived. “Too slow, Saotome,” the super-speed mutant said. “Better luck next time, lunch is on you.”

“Wrong,” Ranma said as he walked up. “Lunch is on you, Speedy. You didn’t beat me here ‘even with my bags.’ As everyone here can see…” Ranma nodded to the group of people hanging around the dorm building. “I still have my suitcase and backpack.”

“Wha… But that’s not…”

“Hold on, Professor Quicksilver, did you actually lose?” a taller person, who looked more like a bipedal alligator than a human, asked.

“The exact terms of the bet were, ‘if I win, even with your bags,’ and ‘I’ll take your bag and suitcase,’” Ranma pointed out. “I still have my bags and you didn’t even really try to take them. That means I win.”

Pietro’s jaw dropped, and many of the surrounding students laughed as they overheard. Finally, he gave a laugh of his own, shrugging. “Alright, Saotome, you got me,” he admitted. “You win this round. You name it, I’m buyin’. Next round is mine.” With that declaration, he held his fist out. Ranma smirked and tapped his fist against Pietro’s in recognition of the challenge. “Let’s get you a room and then I’ll show you to the commissary.”

Ranma’s room was a double room, albeit the size of the old Tendo guest room and with two closets. Apparently, he was simply lucky in getting an open room as everyone else already had roommates. Leaving his suitcase next to the bed and his backpack on it, Ranma followed Pietro from the dorms to the commissary.

“Now, the rule here is, order what you want,” Pietro advised. “Whatever the amount, it’s covered under your scholarship or, if you stick around and become a teacher, your salary and tenure.”

Ranma blinked. “Wait, didn’t you say I was supposed to pay if you won our race?”

Pietro grinned, winking at Ranma and causing the pigtailed martial artist to laugh out loud. “Nice to be taken in by a professional, huh?” the white-haired man quipped. “But, seriously, when I say order what you want, I mean it. Look there.” Pietro pointed over to where one student, who stood head and shoulders above those around him, was ordering. As Ranma watched, the staff handing out the food began liberally piling things atop the plates and into the bowls on his tray. “Now, you probably can’t eat as much as him, but the point is, you can get as much to eat as you need. The only rule is to not order more than you can eat.”

Ranma grinned as the line moved forward.

A few minutes later, Ranma and Pietro had sat down to eat their collections, and Pietro looked… doubtful. Ranma’s tray was heaped nearly as high as the larger student’s had been. “Man, there’s no way you can eat that,” he said.

“You wanna bet?”

“There’s no way a baseline human can possibly eat all of that,” Pietro replied. “Some of us burn a ton of calories to fuel our X-gene mutations but you’re just human. You’ve even admitted it.”

Ranma smirked. “Bet.”

As Pietro opened his mouth, a young woman’s voice spoke up, “I wouldn’t take that bet if I were you.” Ranma and Pietro turned to see the Tendo sisters approaching. Kasumi and Akane were looking around in awe at the sights, while Nabiki was simply smirking at Pietro in a way Ranma found incredibly familiar.

“Hey, Nabiki. Akane, Kasumi!” Ranma called out, waving. Akane gave a weak, wide-eyed wave, but Kasumi beamed and also gave an energetic wave. “Here to get some lunch?”

“Miss Grey said she would handle that, and told us to find a seat,” Nabiki said, sitting down next to Pietro. Akane, still stunned, sat next to Ranma. “You must be Pietro Maximoff? I’ve heard about you around school. Nabiki Tendo.”

“A pleasure, of course,” Pietro said, giving Nabiki a casual once-over. “Now, why wouldn’t I want to take this bet?”

“Only because Ranma can easily clear that entire tray without breaking a sweat,” Nabiki said. “Right, Akane?”

“Huh? Oh, right. Ranma eat lots. Probably literally eat tray, then ask for seconds,” Akane replied, blinking owlishly. “Sorry, amazed by school.”

“Yeah, it’s a big place alright,” Ranma admitted. “But I see a lot of people around, students and teachers. They’ll probably be able to help you get a handle on your new powers, all three of ya.”

“That’s the plan,” Jean said as she stepped up, sitting next to Pietro on Nabiki’s other side. Above her head floated four different trays, which settled to the table in front of her and the Tendo girls. “And maybe we can help you, too, Ranma.”

“Maybe, but if I get any help here, it won’t be with controlling my abilities,” Ranma replied. “Though maybe I’ll get some good ideas…”

“Well, if your friends are trying to talk me out of this, I’ll take the bet. What stakes, Saotome?” Pietro asked, leaning in.

“Personally, I just like fighting for pride,” Ranma replied. “So I’ll settle for just bein’ able to call you a loser twice, this time.”

“You’re on! Let’s see it!”

With that, Ranma began digging in with gusto. As Pietro ate, his expression began to fall, then turn into shock as Ranma cleaned off the entire tray of every scrap of everything edible. For their parts, the Tendo sisters ate with more decorum but made steady progress on completely clearing their plates.

“I don’t believe it… I can’t believe it,” Pietro said in shock. “You must be a concealed mutation or something.”

“Or you’re just a sore loser,” Ranma replied smugly. He turned to the Tendo sisters, curious. “So, what kind of powers do you three have? Do you know yet?”

Kasumi smiled. “I have a touch of healing, it seems,” she said. “There is someone who is named Elixir here. I will be studying my powers with him.”

“Want to take a wild guess at my powers?” Nabiki asked with a smirk.

“Knowin’ my luck, you’re probably a mind-reader now,” Ranma grumbled.

“Not far off. I apparently have very strong empathic senses now. I can’t read thoughts, but I can read emotions,” Nabiki said. “Yes, it’s perfectly alright to be amazed.”

“I mean, I can kinda do that already,” Ranma mused. “But it’s a pretty neat natural gift. Useful for guessing a person’s intent if you’re already a good people-reader. Natural fit for ya, I guess. Akane?”

Akane coughed, blushing slightly. “Do… do not be mad,” she told Ranma.

“Mad? Why would I be mad about your powers?”

“Because… because power is being better,” Akane said, then frowned. “Not mean like that…” She shook her head again, before speaking up in Japanese. “I’m sorry, I know I need to practice my English, but is it alright if I just tell you like this?”

Ranma blinked, then nodded.

“Thank you. My power is superior physical capability—I’ve apparently been slowly developing for a while now,” Akane explained. “I’m stronger, faster, tougher, and have better reflexes than baseline humans. It’s just recently that the mutation hit a spike and developed to the point that it’s at now.”

Ranma blinked, feeling an unsettling sensation in the pit of his stomach. “Yeah? And what point is that?” he asked in Japanese.

“It might be easier to show you than to just tell you,” Akane replied, poking at her food.

Ranma frowned but nodded, not having a choice but to wait until the Tendo sisters finished their meals. It was not as though they had anywhere else to be today, and Pietro seemed too curious to continue the tour anyway. Jean looked like she had a protest of some kind, but was keeping quiet.

Still, eventually, the group found themselves outside in an open field. Ranma, as usual, kept his arms behind his back, waiting in his empty stance for Akane to make the first move. He wasn’t worried. He had fought the likes of Konatsu, Herb, Rouge, Saffron… How much “more” could Akane possibly—

Akane’s fist blazed past his face, narrowly missing him even as he fully committed to the evasion, eyes going wide in alarm. Even as he continued through the motion, she was already switching to an overhanded blow that would hit him while he evaded the punch. His hand came up to deflect her wrist—and he was nearly taken for a ride as he completely failed to even slow the arm’s descent. Instead, he was forced prone and rolled away from her follow up attack.

As he rolled to his feet, this time in a proper ready stance and prepared for her attacks, he saw Akane approaching again. Her actual approach was slow, as if she was letting him ready himself—and her fists blew in at speeds he didn’t think were possible for her. He was maintaining parity in evading the attacks, deflecting where it was necessary, but only barely. And the worst part, in Ranma’s opinion, was that he knew she was not fighting at her best—because the longer the barrage of punches went on, the tighter their grouping and accuracy became!

He grit his teeth. I am not gonna lose to Akane of all people! he thought with some nervousness, despite the fact that that seemed to be exactly the outcome he was headed for. His aura flared up as he gathered his fighting spirit, and he lunged forward to press the attack, putting the fullest measure of his speed into his offensive. For all the good that it did, Ranma may as well have done nothing at all, as while Akane briefly showed a flash of alarm, she otherwise had no difficulty keeping up with the increased pace.

And then Akane leaned forward into her own counter-counter-offensive.

Pain exploded up the length of Ranma’s torso as Akane’s hands blazed past his own even while deflecting his attack. While he had always known the girl was brutally strong, each blow was landing with speed that defied his and was, at least, a match for Ryoga. The sheer force of so many impacts at once sent him flying from his feet, only barely turning it into a controlled roll that left him in a crouch instead of leaving him flat on his back.

He lifted his head, shocked, and met Akane’s expression. Akane, however, simply looked sad. “I never wanted it to be like this,” she said in Japanese. “I wanted to get as good as you were through practice. Through training. Through you teaching me. Not because of some… some freakish birth.”

Ranma felt an odd double pang in his chest at Akane’s words. She had wanted to be as good as him. Now she was. In fact, she was probably stronger than him, now. She was easily faster. He had seen how she imitated his moves flawlessly, meaning she could duplicate his skill. But none of it had been her conscious doing. None of it had been from training. She could not feel any pride in it.

It was because she was a mutant.

This was not like the battle do-gi, where she had a bond with the article of clothing. Nor was it like the super soba, which had been an accident because of eating the wrong bowl of noodles. This wasn’t like Mousse’s instant-victory glasses, which the duck-warrior had wielded with malicious intent, nor like the Mark of the Gods, which Ryoga had despised once he realized how empty a cheated victory was.

Ranma’s hand came to rest on Akane’s shoulder. She looked up at him in surprise, and he held out a clenched fist.

“Good fight, tomboy,” he said in a quiet voice, motioning his head toward his fist. Blinking in surprise and through her tears, she smiled, nodding, and bumped her fist against his.

“Good fight, Ranma.”

“I won’t go half as easy on you next time,” Ranma said. “Maybe you can copy my moves, but I’ll show you how to really use ‘em. If you’re gonna be copyin’ me, I’m gonna make sure you’re damn good at it. You can still build your skill.”

Akane’s smile widened a bit and Ranma let himself smile through his wounded pride. He looked over to the others, who began to walk over. Pietro reached them first, naturally, looking in amazement at Ranma. “Holy crap, dude, are you sure you’re a baseline human?” he asked. “You could probably fight Captain America to a standstill! Or maybe even beat him!”

“What can I say?” Ranma replied with a shrug. “I trained really hard.”

“I bet!” Pietro replied. Before he could comment further, Kasumi approached, resting her hands on Ranma’s shoulders. A warm feeling rushed through him and his bruises began to fade away. Nabiki, however, simply raised an eyebrow at him.

“Are you feeling alright, Saotome?” she asked, arms crossed.

“I think, from what you said your powers are, you know better than anyone how I feel right now, Nabiki,” Ranma replied in a level tone.

“I, for one, am proud of you,” Jean said with a smile. “You handled that better than I would have expected, given… certain past experiences.”

“I really don’t care about mutants versus humans,” Ranma repeated. “Besides, I can get better.” He smirked at Akane. “And so can she. She really needs to work on those transitions. You’re not coastin’ on your new power up just ‘cuz you beat me once, tomboy.”

“‘I beat Ranma Saotome’ more than most people able say!” Akane protested.

“Yeah. But you think I’m gonna let it happen again?”

Akane gaped at the pigtailed boy, who crossed his arms at her and smirked. Even Pietro seemed at a loss. Nabiki simply rolled her eyes as Kasumi gave a quiet laugh behind her hand.

“My, if Ranma is going to be training so intensely, I can hardly be doing less, myself,” Kasumi said with some amusement.

“I guess I can’t let my own practice and training go slack if the normie is going to be pushing that hard to keep up with us,” Nabiki added with her own grin. “Which means, Akane, you can’t, either.”

“Got that right.” Ranma smirked at Akane, nodding his head quickly. “No slackin’ off, Akane, otherwise, I’ll leave ya in the dust again.”

Chapter Text

Ranma squinted slightly as the morning light filtered into his room. He had been at the Xavier Institute for just over a week now, and he had to admit… he liked it. The various displays of superpowers around the school had gone a long way in that regard, in fact: while Ranma had always been athletically superior to his classmates, that came with its own issues, as he also never felt particularly close to any of them. Even with his two closest friends, Hiroshi and Daisuke, there was a distance he simply couldn’t bridge.

That distance did not exist at the Xavier Institute. With a few hundred mutant students of various age and ability at school, his new peers ranged from people with enhanced senses to some people with animalistic traits to even people who were able to keep up with him physically.

Of course, there was the fact that everyone assumed he was a mutant who was ashamed of his mutation. There was always that initial suspicion when he met someone new and explained that he was a baseline human, but the suspicion was always wiped away and replaced with looks of pity and sympathy when he started showing what he could do. It was almost infuriating—the edge of it blunted largely by the fact that it was so well-meaning in most cases.

Ranma? a voice sounded in his mind.

Hey, Teach, Ranma replied, again in his own mind, as he sat up. He recognized the voice as one of his new teachers, Jean Grey. Now that he was aware of her, he could also feel her “presence” in his mind.

Oh, good, you’re awake, Jean said telepathically. First session is right after breakfast. Do you want me to meet you at the cafeteria or in my office?

Whatever’s easier for you, Ranma replied, standing up to get ready for the day. That was something else he was going to learn to get used to—sessions with the psychic redhead who had “scouted” the Tendo sisters. Ranma had, over the course of the week, learned two things about Jean. First, she was quite possibly one of the nicest people he had ever met, fiercely protective of anyone she considered under her wardship. As he was now a student at the Institute, that “wardship” included him.

Second, fiercely protective was an understatement, as she was frequently giving him dressings-down for ignoring his own safety as he was wont to do. He wasn’t sure how to feel about someone who was that much more concerned about his safety than he was. It wasn’t as though he was in any actual danger, after all.

But the cat—quite literally—was out of the bag. Several of the students had pets, and it was only Ranma’s second day of classes when he ran into one. Apparently, every empath and telepath on campus had sensed the spike of fear he had experienced. Not that one needed psychic powers to hear the scream of terror as he bolted through the nearest wall like it was made of particle board. In his defense, the cat had been right there in front of his face!

When Akane, Jean, and Logan had found him a few minutes later, hyperventilating and clinging to a tree branch, Akane had explained that Ranma was afraid of cats due to a training incident where he had been mauled by dozens of cats as a child. The mutant instructors had been horrified, and it was decided that Ranma would undergo therapy.

As it turned out, Jean was a therapist. Go figure.

I’ll meet you in the cafeteria, then. First session will be easy, at least, and the Professor will be there, too. He wants to explore a possible treatment to at least mitigate the fear response.

Ranma nodded, though he realized a moment later Jean couldn’t exactly see it. Thanks, Teach, he said. If I get out of this without screamin’ like a scared baby every time I see a cat, it’ll be worth the trip to this school just for that.

A warm sensation brushed his mind, as if Jean were smiling in his head, and then he felt her presence fade. He mused in thought for a moment as he went about his morning habits—bathing, dressing, and such. I wonder if there’s a way I could learn to block telepaths I don’t want in my head, he thought. I wonder if there’s a way I could learn to sense someone tryin’...

He decided he would ask about that at the first session. There were more important things to worry about at the moment, after all.

Like breakfast!

The Tendo Sisters and Pietro were waiting at the cafeteria. Pietro waved him over, as did two others who were standing in line with him, and Ranma smiled as he waved back. While he had made fast friends with the fast mutant, the other two had been classmates in his math and science classes. The male of the two, Mateo Ramirez, was already talking excitedly as Ranma approached the group in line for food. When he was excited about something, Mateo could talk nearly as quickly as Pietro.

“Mateo, slow down, I’m not that good at English, and Akane probably has no idea what you’re saying,” Ranma said to the taller boy. Mateo blushed, glancing over at Akane, who nodded with a pained smile, then started again, slower this time. He was talking about his experiments with his powers—and was showing them off by changing the color of a nickel in his hand from the flat silver-gray to a brilliant, gleaming gold color. Kasumi seemed amazed and Nabiki seemed amused, but Ranma chuckled as he turned to his other friend, a Korean girl named Jia Park whose figure was almost a match for Ranma’s female side.

“Izzy beat us here, apparently,” Jia said, pointing over to a table where a redheaded girl waited with a tray of food and gave a wave. Next to her sat Jean Grey, who also gave a brief wave to Ranma and Jia.

“Man, she’s usually last, must be motivated about something today,” Ranma said with a chuckle. “Hey, Mateo, no morning practice today, I’ve got prior arrangements.”

“Man, you sure?” Mateo asked, looking forlorn. “I can’t really play here, and since your dad said you could teach…”

Which was true. Ranma had called home and his father had agreed to give him permission to teach martial arts. Apparently, the paperwork would be in the mail within a week. Amazing how a mutation and his son flying around the world turned the man’s usual attitude around…

Ranma shrugged apologetically. “Sorry. I gotta let Jean and Professor X root around in my head.” He nodded to Akane. “If you two want, you can still practice what I’ve already shown ya, and I know Akane can correct you.”

Mateo and Akane both blushed, albeit for entirely different reasons. Ranma guessed that Akane’s blush was due to his compliment and suggestion that she would be able to correct someone’s form. Of course, Ranma’s reasoning for that was simple—Akane had seen him demonstrate it, and her mutant power for absolutely flawless eidetic memory meant she could perfectly duplicate the form he had shown. Her training with him was in learning to innovate with what she assimilated.

That their last spar had gone much more decidedly in his favor, now that he had an idea of what he was up against, went a long way toward restoring his credibility with her in that regard.

Mateo’s blush, however, was for a completely different reason. The boy had apparently been smitten by Akane at first sight, having seen her with Ranma while the pair were walking in from morning practice—unfortunately, right after a rainstorm, which meant Ranma was female at the time. While he had taken the news of Akane’s engagement to Ranma gracefully, he still had a crush on the tomboy. The fact that Akane didn’t really encourage it kept Ranma from becoming too jealous.

That had also been when Mateo had asked to join the morning training, and while he was surprised by Ranma’s gender change, assuming that that and his fantastic abilities were his mutation despite Ranma’s protests, he was a dutiful and eager student in fantastic shape due to enjoying playing sports back in Mexico before his X-gene had awakened.

“That’s probably ok,” Akane said haltingly. “I can correct form if wrong. Maybe Mateo can tell if I repeat things too much?”

“Sure, I’ll try!” Mateo replied. “But we both know I’m not anywhere near as good as you or sensei. I might not notice. I’m so used to his transitions which are ridiculously flawless.”

“Have noticed.” Akane’s response was said in a dry tone as she side-eyed Ranma. “Ranma, you’ll be with Ms. Grey and Professor Xavier this morning?” she asked him in Japanese.

Ranma nodded. “They’re helping me with the Cat-Fist,” he replied in the same language.

“Cat-Fist? What is that?” Jia asked.

“Don’t ask,” Ranma and Akane replied simultaneously, causing the buxom Korean girl to flinch back, then pout. Not for the first time, Ranma thanked whatever higher power might have been listening that Akane was not jealous of the two female friends he had made in his classes. Or, at least, she was not jealous now. She certainly had been at first.

He had a hard time blaming her, as her first time meeting Jia had been encountering the two walking from math to science and laughing at something. Ranma had been giving an exaggerated retelling of the fight against Copycat Ken, which apparently tickled Jia’s funny bone. Add to that the fact that Jia’s bust was nearly as large as Ranma’s female form, Ranma certainly understood his temperamental fiancee’s response. Fortunately, Akane managed to not respond with violence, for once giving Ranma time to explain and introduce the two.

Jia had chosen that moment to explain that if she was going to wreck any “homes” in that way, she would rather go after Akane anyway, causing the tomboy to blush and Ranma to blink in confusion. He still wasn’t sure what that meant, either, as Akane refused to explain. Still, Jia was not interested in him in that way, and that was enough for him.

As the group of friends and sisters approached the table, with Akane sitting next to Ranma as he sat across from Jean, Ranma gave a glance to the other redhead at the table. That girl’s introduction had been another matter altogether, and Ranma could still feel the ache in his bones from Akane’s violent response to that particular introduction. He also had a slightly harder time blaming Akane for the response.

“Morning, Izzy,” he said. Isabella “Izzy” Santoro smiled at him in response, then turned that same brilliant smile on Akane and her sisters.

“Good morning, everyone,” she said brightly. She idly stroked the leaves of a small potted plant she had next to her food tray. “Penelope says ‘good morning’ as well.”

“Good morning, Penelope,” Ranma replied solemnly, bowing his head to the plant in its clay pot. If Izzy said the plant had greeted him, it was only polite to respond in kind, as he had learned that the Italian redhead had a natural affinity with plants as a result of her mutation.

Akane simply eyed Izzy suspiciously—while the initial misunderstanding had been cleared up, albeit at no small cost of pain on Ranma’s part, Izzy made no secret about how attractive she found Ranma, and the olive-skinned redhead’s body had curves that could be summarized in the single word: “thick.” Even Shampoo would likely be steaming with envy, never mind a girl like Akane who already had her own body issues. And Izzy dressed to flaunt it, claiming that she needed the greater exposure to sunlight as part of her powers, but Akane had privately insisted that she just wanted to show off. In either case, the low-cut dress she wore presently showed off more chest than Shampoo and Akane had put together.

“Good morning, Penelope,” Nabiki and Kasumi chimed in together, giving Akane a meaningful look. Withering slightly under her sisters’ gazes, she finally nodded her head and said “Good morning” to the plant, starting to dig into her own food.

“Are you training today, Ranma?” Izzy asked before taking up a spoonful of eggs.

“Not this morning, at least,” Ranma replied after swallowing a heaping mouthful he had more or less inhaled. “Teach is gonna be rootin’ around in my head to, uh… help me with something.”

“Is it related to that tree you were in a few days ago?”

“It might be related,” Ranma replied in a somewhat cagey tone.

“You might as well just tell her, she’s going to find out eventually,” Nabiki suggested. “Especially if you ever take her out on that date she wants.”

Ranma flushed slightly, turning to glare at Nabiki as Akane tensed up in a familiar anger. Izzy, however, only smiled. “It’s not your place to dictate what Ranma shares with me,” she explained. “And as I’ve repeatedly made clear, while it’s important to me that he knows where I stand, I will make no moves on Ranma while he’s engaged.”

“It’s fine!” Akane said, standing up in a huff. “Will just get out of way! Izzy can marry stupid pervert if she wants! Engagement over if ask me!” With that, and ignoring the surprised looks she was getting not just from her table but the entire cafeteria, Akane stormed off.

“Akane! Oh, dear… Pardon me,” Kasumi said to her friends, bowing and hurrying after Akane.

Ranma, however, shoved his tray away in disgust. “Every goddamn week with her, it’s always something,” he muttered, glaring at Nabiki again as he stood up. “And with you. Even all the way in America, do you just have nothin’ better to do than stir up the shitting pot that is my life, Nabiki?”

Nabiki simply shrugged, unrepentant and ignoring the unkind looks being sent her way by the rest of the table. “It was going to happen eventually. Like you said, Ranma, it’s always something.”

Ranma was about to protest when he suddenly felt a presence in his mind again. He glanced over to Jean, who shook her head, before the redhead turned to Nabiki, also standing up. “I will be making a note of this for your disciplinary record, Miss Tendo,” Jean said. “Whether a disruption would have occurred or not, there was no reason to deliberately incite it. I expect better behavior from all of our students.”

Nabiki blinked, as did Ranma. “Well… I, uh,” Nabiki began, but Mateo cut her off.

“Why don’t you go find somewhere else to finish your breakfast, Tendo?” the Mexican boy said, glaring.

Wordlessly, and clearly still just as surprised as Ranma, Nabiki collected her tray, moving away. Jean, however, spared her no second glances, focusing on Ranma. “Did you want to finish?” she asked, looking down at his tray.

Ranma shook his head. “No. Appetite’s gone,” he said, causing his three classmates to stare at him in shock. Not that he could blame them—he was a frequent target of ribbing from them for having the appetite of a man twice or even three times his size.

“Alright. Normally we say to not order more than you can eat, but…” Jean glanced at the doors Akane had left through. “I’ll make sure this isn’t held against you. Extenuating circumstances and all that. Do you want to head to our session?”

“Yeah. Let’s go. See you guys in class.”

“Let’s start from the beginning,” Professor Xavier said, steepling his fingers slightly before his face. “And perhaps explaining the source of this fear might help get your mind off of whatever has caused you such… distress.”

“Ain’t afraid of nothin’—” Ranma protested automatically. A harsh look from Jean cut him off and left him with a sheepish expression. “And I ain’t distressed—” he started to say before another look stopped him short.

“The beginning, please, Ranma.” Professor Xavier lowered his hands, trying to adopt a friendlier expression. Ranma appreciated that he at least abided Ranma’s request to use his given name.

“Right. The beginning.” Ranma took a deep breath to focus. “First off, have you ever heard of the invincible Cat-Fist?”

“I can’t say that I have,” Xavier admitted.

“Let me tell you, it has a few flaws,” Ranma said wryly, before launching into an explanation of the training method and the trainee’s requirements: wrapping the trainee, who must be six years old, in fish sausage before lowering them into the pit of starving cats… By the time he was finished, Professor Xavier’s expression had turned stone-cold while Jean looked a mixture of vaguely ill and absolutely furious. “But that ain’t the worst part.”

“There’s more?!” Jean asked in horror.

“Yeah, see, after the first try, Pops noticed that I didn’t learn the Cat-Fist, just that I was afraid of cats now.” Ranma closed his eyes and shivered slightly at the memory. “So he decided I just needed to try harder next time.”

“He did what?” Xavier asked, his face a mask of barely-contained fury.

“Well, he put me back in… two or three more times, I don’t really remember. It was a long time ago, and…”

“Of course you don’t remember,” Jean said, a hand resting on Ranma’s shoulder. “You were only a child and repeatedly put through something horribly traumatic. Nobody should ever go through something like that.”

“Huh?” Ranma blinked, leaning back from Jean’s proximity. “I heard mutants awakenin’ to their powers is pretty awful sometimes, like Jia thought she was trapped in her cell phone and dead. I just got tossed in a pit a few times. It’s no big deal.”

“N-No big deal?” Jean stared, eyes wide and jaw slightly agape, at Ranma, green eyes searching over his face. After a moment, her expression changed slightly. “Ranma, would it be alright if I come into your mind to show you something?”

“Huh? Sure thing, Teach.”

Ranma felt the presence of Jean’s mind entering his own. Close your eyes, she advised him, and so he did. Instead of the skin-tinged blackness he expected, he saw an image of a neighborhood street, a car, and a little brown-haired girl lying in the street… and blood. Ranma realized it was a lot of blood, in fact. This was the day I awakened to my powers, Jean explained.

Who’s the girl? he wondered.

That was my best friend at the time, Annie Richardson, Jean said. I saw her hit by a car when I wasn’t much older than you were when you went through the Cat-Fist training. But more than that…

The perspective suddenly shifted and Ranma was suddenly watching from, literally, the level of the street as a horrified little girl with familiar bright red hair and green eyes screamed, hand outstretched toward him. I experienced her being hit by the car, Jean explained. I felt her pain, her fear, her terror… every last moment as she died in front of me.

That’s… that’s pretty rough, I had no idea… I guess sayin’ that awakenings were pretty awful was an understatement.

I appreciate the sympathy, Ranma, Jean said, a warm feeling again running through the boy’s mind. But the reason I’m showing this is so you understand: Yes, my power awakening was a horribly traumatic experience. But, Ranma? I only experienced this once. I was horribly withdrawn after the incident for years until Professor Xavier was able to help.

Ranma’s mind drifted to the pit, and suddenly he was there, dangling from his father’s grip at only six years old. Yeah, and it seemed pretty bad, worse than this, he thought to Jean.

I disagree, Jean replied. Like I said, I only went through my trauma once. This… Ranma’s perspective shifted slightly, then again and again, each time showing him bearing gradually worse scratch and bite marks all over his body. You experienced this so often you can’t even remember it all. I’ve managed to accept Annie’s death and move on so that I can remember the happier times without being in pain remembering her. I doubt we’ll ever be able to completely manage all of the trauma this has caused you.

Ranma lifted his hand, opening his eyes as he waved it in a dismissive manner, simultaneously feeling Jean leave his mind. “I’ll get over it. One way or another,” he said out loud.

“I suppose we’ll see. Trying… is certainly part of why we’re here,” Jean replied.

“We might consider an extreme emergency treatment,” Xavier suggested, chiming in for the first time since the conversation had turned telepathic. “Something, at least, to suppress the fear response until a more permanent treatment can be implemented.”

“A psychic block? Are you sure, Professor?” Jean asked.

“It’s something I only consider due to the extreme levels of fear presented. To put it mildly, it’s not healthy. Absolutely understandable, but not healthy.”

“What exactly are we talkin’ about here?” Ranma asked.

“I’m suggesting essentially building a wall with a gate, one which can only be opened from the outside, around your fear. In that way, we can open the gate as part of our therapy sessions, and then close it again to prevent fear triggers from undoing our progress.” The Professor frowned slightly as he considered it. “The only downside is that we would be on something of a timetable and the process is a bit… exhausting. If I shoulder most of the work, Jean will be able to hold today’s session and her class duties, but I’m afraid I’ll be incapacitated for most of the day. All that, and the ‘wall’ we create would last perhaps a year at most.”

Ranma blinked, glancing back and forth between Jean and Xavier. “I can’t ask you to do that,” he finally said in an awed voice.

“Then it is fortunate you have not asked this of us, and instead we’re offering it freely, Ranma,” Xavier said. “Why not lie down on the couch and we’ll begin?”

Ranma nodded, turning to lie down on the couch he had sat down on. The Professor wheeled over, gently resting one hand on Ranma’s forehead. After a moment, Jean’s hand came to rest atop Xavier’s. “Close your eyes,” Xavier advised. “Empty your mind of all thoughts.”

“Like a meditation exercise?” Ranma suggested.

“Exactly.”

Ranma nodded slightly, closing his eyes and emptying his mind of thought. He focused instead on the river of chi that flowed through his body, concentrating on his breathing and the flow of that vital energy.

“Professor, can you…?”

“Yes, I can actually feel it… Astonishing… This might actually be helpful… Whatever you’re doing, Ranma, please continue to do so.”

Ranma gave a low sound of acknowledgement, his focus intent on his spiritual energy as he entered the meditative trance. His brow furrowed slightly as he felt two presences within that flow of spiritual energy, but he relaxed as he recognized the Professor and Jean. They moved into the flows that ran through his mind, and he felt a small divergence of the flowing energy.

“I can… feel whatever you’re doing,” he murmured.

“The energies you focus as a part of your martial arts are at least partly mental in nature,” Xavier explained. “To use a fairly imprecise metaphor, you asked us to build a wall, but then you provided a generator to run our tools and equipment.”

“So… it’ll be easier?”

“Much,” Jean agreed. “Professor, look, I focus on defense and containment and the excess energy is automatically forming reinforced walls.”

“Very good, but let’s not have Ranma shoulder the entire burden. Create your own layers, and I will create mine on the innermost points around the fear.”

Ranma’s attention drifted away from the two at that point, and it wasn’t until Jean was gently shaking him by the shoulder that he came out of his trance. He could immediately feel something was different. As he sat up, he looked himself over—but physically he appeared unchanged. “Did it work?” he asked.

“Magnificently, I would surmise,” Professor Xavier replied, rubbing at his head. “How do you feel?”

Closing his eyes, Ranma did a quick mental inventory. His eyes opened after just a moment. “Feels like… my ki is a little weaker? No, not exactly,” he mused. “It’s like I don’t have quite as much. It’s a tiny difference but I can feel it.”

“That’s not surprising, your ‘ki,’ that spiritual energy you harness, Jean and I could feel it. It illuminated your mind and soul brilliantly,” Xavier said. “We coaxed a tiny bit of it in the direction of ‘defense’ of your mind and it built its own walls around the fear of the Cat-Fist. In essence, you created your own first line of defense.”

“And last line,” Jean added. “After the Professor created what we thought were going to be the innermost walls with our own energy, your ‘ki’ created another layer underneath his.”

“What does that mean for me?”

“Those walls will likely never fade, though they may crumble under repeated assault if left untended. We have time to help you with your fear,” Xavier said. “More than a year. Possibly even two or three, since your walls will reinforce ours.” As he thought about it, Xavier’s face brightened in a slight smile. “You may also be able to use this as the start of a basic psychic defense. If you can learn to direct those walls around the outermost parts of your mind, you could possibly block, or at least hinder, psychic intrusion. And without any psychic abilities of your own.”

“One thing at a time, Professor,” Jean said with a laugh. “Why don’t you go get some rest and Ranma and I will begin the therapy session? It’ll be a bit short but we should be able to get something in.”

“Something” turned out to be an exposure to at least one real live cat. However, it was kept safely in Jean’s hands, and Ranma realized he did not feel the fear response he normally associated with cats. It wasn’t a cure…

But he was hopeful for it now.

Lunch was, Ranma realized, somewhat tense. The Tendo sisters, for instance, were absent. Mateo, Jia, and Izzy were not. Ranma searched the cafeteria from his place in line but saw no sign of the family he had been staying with for nearly two years.

“So, it might be crass and awkward to ask,” Izzy piped up suddenly. “But how about that date Tendo suggested? Even if she may have been wrong, she might have had a good idea.”

Ranma tensed up as if expecting an attack, but slowly shook his head. “No… She does this a lot,” he said. “I’ll… go apologize to her, take a few lumps, and it’ll be back to normal tomorrow.”

“The hell it will be,” Jia replied crossly. “Kasumi’s welcome back but Nabiki sure isn’t. Wait, lumps? Lumps from who?”

“From Akane,” Ranma replied absently, moving forward. “She’ll club me a few times and that’ll be that. Back to status quo.” Ranma shrugged as if it were common—which, to him, it was. He missed the stunned looks on his friends’ faces.

“Wait, how often does this happen? How often does she just… hit you for no good reason?” Izzy asked.

“Feh, more times than I can count,” Ranma replied with annoyance. “It’s more annoying than anything else these days. Though I guess with her new mutations, she could probably really make it hurt if she wanted. That’d be kind of really annoying.”

Mateo said nothing, just whipping out his cell phone and tapping rapidly at it. Ranma just raised an eyebrow—not having one himself, he didn’t understand the fascination people his age seemed to have with the devices. He glanced over at Jia and Izzy to shrug at Mateo’s antics only to see they looked horrified. “What? I know he’s kind of an addict for his phone but I’m sure he’s got good reason. He’s not as bad as you are, Jia.”

“E-Excuse me?” Jia asked. “You think this look is because of Mateo pulling out his phone? No, he’s texting Ms. Grey now. This look is because of you just casually accepting physical and emotional abuse and shrugging it off like it’s nothing.”

Ranma blinked. “I… guess because it kinda is? I’m a quick healer.”

“That is entirely beside the point,” Izzy mumbled, rubbing at her forehead. Her expression turned somewhat grim as she looked Ranma in the eye. “Ranma, I know how much you value your word once given. I want a promise out of you.”

“Sure thing, Izzy, anything.”

“That’s sweet how much you trust me like this,” Izzy murmured. “I want you to promise me that you won’t apologize to Akane without speaking to… to any of us, or Ms. Grey or Professor Xavier, first.”

“Huh? That’s… that’s a pretty hefty promise, Izzy. Why d’ya want me to promise somethin’ like that?”

“Because I’m worried that you’re unable to objectively realize when there’s a problem in your relationship, and you’ll continue to be a passive abuse victim until the circumstances you’ve been more or less forced into are rectified,” Izzy said flatly, giving Ranma her best deadpan expression. He hated to admit it but she was pretty good at those…

“If it means anything, I agree with her,” Jia said. Mateo was also nodding but still focused on his texting. “You do not owe Akane an apology because of her misunderstanding, especially as caused by her own sister. If anything, Nabiki owes the two of you an apology, and then Akane should apologize to you for taking it out on you.”

Ranma blinked, then shrugged. “I guess I don’t really see it that way,” he admitted.

“Have you ever been allowed to see it any way other than ‘Ranma, go apologize to your would-be-future-wife and make harmony for the household?’” Izzy asked. “You don’t actually think it’s your fault, do you? You didn’t say anything. You’ve never encouraged me. In fact, you’ve frequently discouraged my pursuit, which is why I keep my distance—well, metaphorically, because we’re still friends.”

Ranma furrowed his brow, trying to think his way through what his friend was saying to him. True, he often resented being forced to apologize to Akane for things that weren’t his fault. But at the end of the day, it was easier and quicker to just take his lumps and go back to status quo. It wasn’t like dealing with the old freak, who would demand ridiculous and outrageous means of apology or else subject his offender to his infantile wrath.

Ranma briefly gave a grimace and shudder on the idea of the old freak making it to the Xavier Institute and assaulting the girls there, especially his friends and teacher.

The point was, he was used to things going a certain way and was now being guided counter to that custom. “It’s not really my fault,” he admitted slowly. “There’s nothing goin’ on between us, and I haven’t done anything to encourage it—have I?” At Izzy’s shake of her head, he continued. “And you haven’t pushed on me even though the way we met, uh, you were definitely interested…”

Izzy gave a little blush but nodded, eyes closing. “Well, seeing a man so absolutely full of his own natural energy and in a perfect state of harmony with the world around him, and he’s handsome and my own age to boot?” She shrugged, opening her eyes, which almost twinkled as she met his gaze. “I can hardly be blamed for some interest.”

Ranma coughed, reddening but turning slightly away from Izzy. “A-Anyway, you haven’t tried to push it on me. So it’s not like we’ve actually been doin’ anything at all. The only reason Akane exploded like that was Nabiki, right?”

“Exactly,” Jia said, nodding. “Because otherwise, Akane seems like she’s incredibly jealous of any female companionship you have. Even mine. And I only like girls.”

“I’m still amazed you just admit that,” Mateo chimed in, putting his phone away.

“Mateo, I haven’t been in the closet since I was eight years old.”

“How did they find out so young?” Izzy asked, curiosity on her face.

Jia shrugged. “Probably all the She-Ra and Xena drawings I had.”

Ranma gave a shrug of his own, the discussion flying over his head. “Anyway… you’re sayin’ I don’t owe Akane an apology? Nabiki owes us both?” he concluded.

“Exactly,” Izzy affirmed.

“Well, just because I happen to agree with the sentiment,” Ranma muttered. “I’m likely to be waiting on that one until the end of the world.”

“If you listen to some of the teachers’ war stories, the end of the world comes around here every other Tuesday,” Jia quipped. “Then there’s Professor Caliban’s lectures.”

“Oh, God, don’t get me started,” Mateo muttered. “He’s supposed to be a history teacher. But the class might as well be a study of The Life and Times of En Sabah Nur.”

Ranma shrugged again, quickly ordering his usual as he finally reached the point where food was handed out. “Well, he sounds like kind of a pretty bad guy,” he reasoned as he waited for his friends. “So since I’ll probably have to fight him, I’m glad there’s a class literally dedicated to learning how to. I would have loved it if my old school had a class like ‘Beating Herb 101’ or ‘Saffron: How to Fight and Win.’”

“You fought someone named Herb?” Izzy asked, puzzled. “And Saffron?”

“Herb also had his buddies Lime and Mint,” Ranma explained as he and the other three found a table to sit at the end of. “Saffron had his toadies, Korma and Masala, and their Captain, Kiema.”

“Herb, Lime, and Mint,” Mateo repeated in a deadpan tone.

“You fought a spicy curry?” Jia asked, squinting as she tried to parse the meaning. “Am I misunderstanding English suddenly?”

“No, I fought people who had the same names as curry and spices,” Ranma clarified, taking a bite of food. “And I never fought Lime and Mint, just Herb. Ryoga fought Lime, and Mousse fought Mint.”

“‘Mousse.’ Like the animal or the hair care product?” Izzy asked, blinking as she seemed to completely forget about her breakfast. “Or the dessert?”

“‘Mousse’ like the male warrior from the Joketsuzoku,” Ranma explained. “Though, then again, the three I know from that tribe do have names that sound like cosmetics… but there’s Shampoo, or ‘Shan Pu’ for the right way to say it, and Mousse, or ‘Mu Su.’”

“Joketsuzoku?” Mateo asked.

“‘Village of Women Heroes,’ basically,” Jia explained. “If this were a Viz anime localization, I guess you’d call them ‘Amazons’ and any girls who joined the cast would have adorable Poirot speak.”

“For some reason, I feel weirdly called out,” Ranma muttered. He shook his head. “Anyway, the point is that I’m pretty sure I’ll have to fight this ‘Apocalypse’ one day, so you can be sure I’m gonna ace that class.”

Mateo shook his head with a shudder. “Personally, I hope you’re wrong and we never heard anything about Apocalypse for as long as we live.”

“Sorry, Mateo,” Ranma said, finishing the last of his lunch. “Crazy follows me like a rain cloud.”

The school grounds suddenly shook violently, causing the students in the cafeteria to look around curiously and with some alarm.

“Like that? That’s probably for me,” Ranma said.

As if called forth by his words, a piercing alarm began to ring. Gleaming metallic shutters fell over the nearby windows and doors, and several wall panels flipped over to reveal elevator doors that began to hiss open. Professor Xavier’s voice cut across the PA at that point, temporarily quieting, but not silencing, the alarm. “Students, the school is under attack. We are unsure as to the nature of the attack at this time, but rest assured you will be kept safe,” the Professor advised. “Please proceed quickly to your nearest evacuation point. If you are with your teachers, stay with them until you reach an evacuation area.”

With that declaration, the students in the cafeteria began quickly heading for the elevators that had appeared. Ranma was vaguely aware that these were emergency evacuation elevators which would take the students to safety underground, but he had no interest in joining them. He felt… something. As he stood up from his seat, he looked toward a wall. There was a powerful intent coming toward that wall, and it was focused on him.

“Ranma, come on, we gotta go, man!” Mateo said, tugging ineffectually at Ranma’s arm.

“Come on, Ranma!” Jia urged.

“You two get goin’. I think I was right,” Ranma muttered.

“Three, because none of us are abandoning you!” Izzy insisted. “You come with us or we’re staying!”

The wall trembled. A crack formed.

“That’s nice of ya,” Ranma said… and he picked the trio up easily, jumping over to the last elevator. “But it’s my duty as a martial artist to protect ya.” Shoving his three friends in, he leaned inside, slapping the button to send the elevator down and quickly leaning back. His last sight was Mateo’s shocked face, and Jia and Izzy reaching toward him.

“Ranma—!” the girls cried out before the elevator doors slammed shut.

Ranma turned and walked away as the cracked wall shook again, more cracks forming. The pigtailed boy shook his head, clicking his tongue. Ryoga would already be through the wall, so it certainly wasn’t him. So would Pantyhose. Not that there was a reason for the unfortunately-named boy to be here, since the old freak hadn’t decided to follow him to America, but one never knew.

As the wall finally exploded inward, Ranma made note of the decidedly feminine silhouette through the dust and rubble. Definitely not Ryoga or Pantyhose. The power of her aura, so close and now without a thick wall between them, caused the hairs on the back of his neck to rise. Definitely not any of the girls he knew, either.

As the dust cleared and the rubble of the wall settled, he found himself looking at a gorgeous woman with skin a shade lighter than his own. Gleaming black hair fell straight around her shoulders and down her back. Her body was easily a match for any of the girls he knew, including himself, and she apparently had no problems showing it off in a form-fitting black bodysuit that hugged her curves like a second skin, leaving the top of her breasts exposed. Her shoulders and back were covered by a black cape that floated behind her in a slight breeze.

She smiled at him. “Ranma Saotome?” she asked.

“That’s me,” Ranma replied, moving to keep a table between himself and this woman as she stepped into the room. Not someone I know, but she knows me, he thought with a slight frown. Hate bein’ on the back foot. If she knows who I am, she might know how I fight, and she doesn’t look like she was straining to get through the wall, so I bet it only took three hits because she was taking her time.

“Yes, I’ve heard all about you,” she said, stepping closer. Instinctively, he moved further back. Something about her aura was nagging at his danger sense. As powerful as hers was, he decided he wanted to stay outside of it unless he had more information. “From your alien tech teacher. She told me quite a bit about you.”

“I doubt Professor Pryde would tell someone who was attacking the school anything,” Ranma replied, continuing to maneuver himself away from the woman.

“True, she wasn’t very talkative, but I did learn about you from her,” the woman said, still smiling. “How rude of me, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Selene.”

“Good to meet you,” Ranma replied in a deadpan tone.

Selene smiled, crossing her arms across her stomach. While the effects of this might have been distracting under other circumstances, Ranma was primed for a fight. “You can relax, I’m not here to fight you,” she said. “Unless you want to fight. But you’re just as Miss Pryde told me—you knew I was coming here and made sure your friends got to safety. How did she put it… The duty of a martial artist?”

Ranma nodded.

“How charming.” Selene’s smile widened as she took a seat. “I’ll be perfectly honest, we were here for you. My associates are keeping the X-Men busy, though I doubt it will last for very long. The X-Men are very good at what they do. I’d rather recruit you without fighting. Not that I think you’d put up a great fight, but…”

Ranma’s hackles raised at that. “Is that what you think? Because I think I’d like to stay right here.”

“You don’t belong here,” Selene replied bluntly, her smile dropping. “You may have superhuman abilities, but you’re no mutant. You just have an incredibly powerful life force that you’ve honed and harnessed. And they know it. How long do you think they’ll keep a ‘flatscan’ like you around?”

Flatscan. Ranma had heard the word before. One of the other students had called Ranma by that name before being told off by the teacher for using a derogatory term. Ranma wasn’t particularly disturbed by the derisive term for a human with a lack of active mutation, but after discovering the vitriol and bigotry that surrounded numerous human interactions, he wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of the word being used at all.

However, he simply shrugged Selene’s words off. “I dunno. They’re puttin’ a lot into me right now,” he said noncommittally. “How long would your group keep me around? Would they actually help me with my problems?” His eyes turned hard as he stared into Selene’s own blue eyes. “Would you? Or would you just keep tryin’ to use and manipulate me like most of the people in my life so far?”

Selene’s smile returned and she stood up. “I see,” she said. “I have a measure of who you are now, Ranma Saotome. And I don’t think there’s anything more to be said with words.”

“I gotta agree with that.”

A presence suddenly entered Ranma’s mind. A familiar one. It slipped through the walls he had built as if it knew each and every one of them. Ranma, Jean’s voice suddenly sounded.

Kinda busy, Teach, Ranma thought back at her. A faint scraping sound was his only warning as he backflipped over an entire dining table that flew through the air at him from behind. Dealin’ with a crazy psychic lady over here.

Crazy psychic—why aren’t you in the emergency shelter?!

Ranma caught a pair of chairs that came flying at him, eyes widening slightly as Selene casually lifted the massive table she sat in front of. Uh, because I sensed she was comin’ for me specifically and wanted to keep my friends safe? he offered. He ducked, thrusting his leg up in a powerful kick as Selene hefted the table at him like it was made of styrofoam. The metallic ringing sound and buckling of the material as he kicked it away told him it was more likely steel or aluminum.

Of course you did, Jean sounded exasperated. I need you to tell me who’s there, Ranma. I’m sending help your way but I need to know who you’re dealing with.

Ranma backpedaled away from the woman as she approached. She said her name was Selene— he began. He was glad for his reflexes keeping him dodging the cafeteria furniture as Jean’s mental shout of surprise nearly caused him to eat the floor. Could you not?! I’m dodging tables and chairs here, Teach! he almost snarled mentally.

Sorry, I’m sorry—hey, don’t you take that tone with me! the redhead sent back. Help is coming, Ranma, but listen to me—her psychic powers are not the danger! The mental walls we created can hold her out for long enough that you’ll know if she’s there, but whatever you do, do not let her get close to you!

Ranma grimaced. Yeah, I caught on that she has a dangerous aura already, he thought, looking around and realizing that nothing else was being thrown at him. “Ah, crapbaskets,” he muttered, now catching on that what he had thought was her throwing things at him was a distraction for her moving all of the tables and chairs out of the center of the room, creating a circular arena that he was now trapped in with her.

“We can do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way,” Selene suggested. “Stand down and come back with me. I promise you, I’ll treat you very well, and I can teach you things about controlling your life energy that you can’t even dream of. Force my hand, and you’ll be a slave to my whims forever—or at least until I decide to forgive you. I doubt I could be mad at you forever.”

She’s a psychic vampire, Ranma, Jean said mentally. If you get close enough to touch her aura, she can drain your mental energy—at the very least, the mental component of your ki. It will weaken you and slow you down, and if she touches you, she can kill you. She’ll drain all your knowledge and abilities away and take them for herself.

Ranma grimaced, keeping to the edge of the arena while Selene moved to the center. The proximity of her aura caused his skin to crawl, and he clamped down hard on his own ki in an instinctive attempt to keep it from touching hers. Well, she’s kinda got me trapped in a circle here. I don’t think I can get through a wall before she gets into hand to hand range. I don’t fancy fightin’ someone who’s like Miss Hinako from Hell.

Can you do anything to attack her at range? Jean suggested. Throw some of the chairs and tables back at her?

“Last chance for the ‘easy way,’” Selene teased. “I’ll make you a king. Maybe I’ll even be your queen. I really have heard all sorts of good things about you.”

Can she absorb energy projections? Ranma asked.

What? Why would you—

Yes or no, Teach, time’s up!

She can’t, it’s how Scott usually—

Thanks, that’s all I needed! Ranma smirked, feeling a sudden confidence welling up in him as he returned his full focus to the matter at hand. Maybe today, Selene’s powers tipped the scale against him in a fight. Maybe today, he wouldn’t be able to bring his hand to hand mastery to bear on her and would have to hope help arrived in time. But today, he would also show Selene the truth—Ranma Saotome never loses.

“I think I’ll take my chances, thanks anyway,” Ranma said, his smirk turning into a grin as he flared his aura with confidence and pride, holding his hands out—just short of Selene’s aura. Her face turned into confusion as he shouted out, “Moko Takabisha!”

Whatever information Selene had gotten from Professor Pryde or other sources certainly didn’t include any abilities Ranma had yet to demonstrate at the Institute—and that included his arsenal of ki attacks. The flare of bright golden-blue ki erupted from his hands, launching at Selene before she had time to react, and the detonation was equally impressive, sending her flying with a scream into a pile of destroyed lunchroom furniture. Unfortunately, while smoke wafted off of her from the detonation, she seemed largely unharmed.

She sniffed imperiously as she stood up. “Cute,” she said. “Quick-thinking. A bit spiteful. Clever enough to not lay all your cards on the table.”

“There’s a proverb from back home,” Ranma quipped. “‘The sly eagle hides its talons.’ You didn’t think I showed off everything I could do in the last week I was here, did you?”

“I suppose that was naive of me,” Selene admitted. “You continue to impress me. Are you sure you won’t accept my offer?” she lilted.

“Let me think about it.”

Even as he said it, his hands were coming back up. He wouldn’t accept. She knew he wouldn’t accept. She was already moving forward. “Moko Takabisha!” he yelled, firing another blast. She slid aside of the golden-blue energy wave, and he smirked, his left hand tracking her as she tried to move past it. Her eyes widened. “Double!” he added, a second ball of energy launching at her.

Once again caught off-guard, Selene was launched back into a far wall, impacting one of the window shutters with enough force to dent it. Ranma reached back, grabbing a table to throw at her, then a volley of chairs and another table. He swore as she batted aside each item with her bare hands. A nervous drop of sweat ran down the back of his neck. “How are you feeling about the easy way?” he asked.

To his surprise, she actually laughed. The laughter was rich and silvery, bringing images of ringing bells to Ranma’s mind before she brought her gaze down to him. “No,” she said, still smiling. “You’ve made your choice. You could have been a king. But I had you figured already as a man who likes it—”

Even knowing she had been fast enough to dodge his ki blasts, Ranma was caught by complete surprise as she suddenly appeared in melee range. He immediately felt his aura leeching away into hers, pain blasting through every nerve, sensations that only became worse as her hand locked around his neck and lifted him off his feet. What would have been a surprised scream of pain turned into a choked gasp.

“—hard,” she finished, almost purring. New pain exploded on his back as she reared back and slammed him into a wall. She lifted, and then slammed him into the wall again. This repeated two more times before the wall gave out and she went through it with him. “We’ll still train you. But I’m going to enjoy training you to obey, too.”

Despite the wet feeling of blood running down his back from the numerous impacts into the wall, and despite the fact that he could barely breathe with her hand on his throat, Ranma mustered the willpower to display a hand gesture his new American friends had taught him. Shakily, he raised his right hand, clenched into a fist except for his middle finger being extended.

“So spirited. Maybe I’ll let you keep some of tha—” she began, only to be cut off as brilliant red light filled Ranma’s vision, slamming into her from his left and sending her flying off of him with a scream of pain. As Ranma hit the ground, he weakly turned his head, seeing one of the school’s instructors—a tall, muscular man named Scott Summers, although now wearing a black and yellow jumpsuit, a belt that had a stylized “X” on the clasp, and a golden visor covering his eyes instead of the usual ruby-red shades Ranma was accustomed to seeing.

“Lie still, Ranma,” Cyclops said. He tapped at the chest of his jumpsuit, where a red-and-black X lit up under his fingers. “Nightcrawler, I’ve got Ranma and Selene at the cafeteria, but Ranma’s down and hurt. Bring me some more backup and evac Ranma to medical.” Even as he finished speaking, he raised his hand to his visor, releasing another red blast from underneath it and accompanied by a yell of frustration from Selene. “You might want to consider retreating, Selene! I have a hard time hitting someone who’s running scared!”

Ranma weakly grinned at the trashtalk, wishing he could join in as blackness crawled at the edges of his vision.

A flicker and puff of smoke preceded a lean, blue-furred apparition appearing just behind Scott, flanked by a brown-haired man with a metal staff in a brown overcoat and another man who appeared to have been sculpted out of ice. As the man in the coat held up a handful of glowing cards, the furry person put a hand on Ranma’s shoulder. Disorientation ran through Ranma and blackness overtook him.

Chapter Text

Ranma walked through the hallway. Distantly, he thought to himself how much it resembled the upstairs hallway at the Tendo dojo. He stopped. He was now a she. Shrugging, she opened the first door on her left.

A brown-haired man in a blue hakama held up his wooden sword. “Pigtailed girl, I would date you!”

“No,” she said. Disappointed, the brown-haired man knelt in seiza stance and Ranma closed the door.

Ranma continued walking. She opened the next door. An auburn haired woman meticulously scraped the edge of a katana against a stone, then carefully brushed that edge with leather. The woman looked up at Ranma. “Will you be a man among men?” she asked.

“Yes,” Ranma said.

“But you’re a girl.”

“I’m both and neither,” Ranma replied, as if it were the most sensible thing in the world.

“Both and neither,” the auburn haired woman replied. She nodded. “It’s dangerous to go alone. If you will be a man among men, and you are both, you must be a woman among women. Take this.” She held the katana up to Ranma.

“Can I take it later?” Ranma asked. The auburn haired woman smiled and nodded, and once again, Ranma shut the door and moved on.

The next door opened to a lush garden with a beautiful redhead standing in it. Ranma paused at the threshold and the redhead approached her. Her eyes shone like emeralds as she came close, and she pressed her lips to Ranma’s without a word at first. As she pulled away, green eyes met blue. “I love you, but I can wait forever. I have all the time in the world,” she said. “Will you be mine, one day?”

“I don’t know,” Ranma admitted. She realized she was a he again, and he again admitted, “I don’t know.”

“I understand. You don’t even know what I’m asking you.” The redhead smiled. “I’ll be your friend. Always.”

“Thank you.” Ranma bowed politely, then closed the door, moving on.

The next door led to a Japanese-style dining room. A heavy-set man in a tattered white gi sat at the nearest table, hungrily devouring a bowl of rice. He stopped and turned, then stood up to face Ranma. “Boy, you must be better than me.”

Ranma was suddenly aware of feeling incredibly warm.

“Do you understand? Be better.” The white-clad man gave Ranma a stern look. “I know you can.” With that, the older man shut the door for Ranma, and Ranma staggered on. The heat was becoming unbearable.

The next door led into a furnace. A man with blazing orange hair and fiery wings greeted him. “I must destroy you,” the winged man said.

“I can’t let you,” Ranma replied. Suddenly, the oppressive heat broke, and the room began to freeze.

“I understand,” the winged man said, shattering into a million pieces and leaving a baby behind, who closely resembled him. A woman with pink hair and wings stepped into the room, retrieving the baby.

“Thank you for your mercy,” the woman said, before leaving.

Ranma shut the door and moved on.

The end of the hallway approached suddenly. There were no more doors to the side, only one more before him. He slid open the door and stepped into a dojo.

Two women greeted him. One was a beautiful redhead with green eyes, though not the same one who had greeted him in the garden. While that woman’s eyes had gazed on him with adoration, this one gave him a fond look and warm smile, and she had a somewhat more slender build. Her vibrant red hair was tied behind her head in a tight ponytail.

The other woman was a bit closer to his age, with short black hair and brown eyes. She had a slightly heavier build than the redhead, but carried it well, though her lips turned down in a frown when she saw him. Both women were wearing a plain white gi, as one might expect in a dojo.

“Where have you been?” they said simultaneously. “I’ve been worried sick.”

“I was down the hall,” Ranma replied, his voice sounding distant and hollow.

“You should have come here sooner,” the women said. “You’re so inconsiderate.” They moved toward him. The redhead’s smile turned slightly exasperated but maintained affection as she gently touched his face. The dark-haired girl’s scowl deepened slightly and she punched his arm. The blow stung, but in a muted way. It was less that it hurt and more that he remembered it should hurt.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for, exactly. Was it his fault that he had to check every door along the way?

The redhead shook her head, still smiling, while the dark-haired girl’s scowl receded into just a slight frown. The dark-haired girl crossed her arms while the redhead leaned in and gently put her lips to his forehead. “It’s alright,” the two women said, the redhead’s voice comforting and the dark-haired girl’s voice grudging. Both voices turned serious, as did their expressions. “But you need to go now.”

“Go where?” Ranma asked.

The two women stepped apart from each other and away from him. Lying on the dojo floor, and looking as though it belonged there, was a simple futon, already unrolled and made ready for use.

“I guess I am tired,” Ranma admitted. The futon definitely belonged there. Why wouldn’t it? He knelt down, sliding under the cover, and rested his head back.

“I’ll see you soon,” a new voice almost purred. Another woman, amazingly beautiful, leaned over him, offering a look into the inviting depths of her cleavage as her black hair spilled over her shoulders. She grinned at him, then turned and sauntered away.

Ranma closed his eyes.

Ranma opened his eyes. His throat was raw and dry, and he felt heavy and restrained. As awareness began returning to his senses, he became very aware of a steady, repetitive beep that sounded at regular, infrequent intervals. It occurred to him that he was in a bed, but it wasn’t the bed of his dorm room at the Xavier Institute, nor was it any bed he knew at the Tendo dojo. He looked around, but the room was dark. A digital clock on the far wall read “2:39.”

Ranma blinked. He glanced at the window—Sure looks like two in the morning out there, he reasoned. The beeping was starting to get on his nerves, so he began to sit up. He winced as something in his arm jostled slightly, realizing there was an intravenous needle set in him. He followed the line up to a bag and snorted. IV bag? Yeah, screw that, I need somethin’ to eat, he decided.

Carefully, he removed the needle, allowing a trickle of his ki to flow and accelerate his healing. Now fully awake, he was aware of his somewhat depleted reserves, though they were not as bad as he expected. I guess her drain isn’t as bad as Hinako’s, that usually takes all day to recover from, he mused. Carefully, he began to unclip and remove the various attachments stuck into and on him. On removing the last set, the steady beep instead turned into a shrill noise that began to give him a headache. Wincing, he called up a measure of his aura to illuminate the room, just enough to find the offending device—which was just showing a line across a grid on its screen, how completely useless!—and unplug it from the wall.

“That’s better,” he said in a slightly dry rasp, chuckling. Stretching his arm over his head, he glanced down at himself. Male, check, he thought. Clothes, not check. What the heck? He stood up, looking himself over. Hospital gown? Am I in a hospital? Crap, I need to find my clothes…

The door suddenly slammed open and the lights overhead came on, causing Ranma to whirl toward the door and come face to face with the monstrous visage of his physics professor, Dr. Henry McCoy. The hulking genius blinked at Ranma, glancing between him and the turned off device. Finally, Dr. McCoy’s eyes settled on Ranma. “Mr. Saotome?” he asked, somewhat cautiously by his tone.

Ranma’s lip twitched slightly. “I’ve told ya to call me ‘Ranma,’ Doc. Mr. Saotome sounds like you mean my pops.”

“Apologies, I’m a bit out of sorts,” Dr. McCoy explained. “I received a rather alarming call that one of my patients had gone into cardiac arrest.”

“Really? Who?” Ranma asked, turning to fully face the blue-furred Beast. “Are they alright?”

“Well, he certainly seems to be, against, all odds.”

It took a moment for the meaning behind Dr. McCoy’s words and pointed look to occur to Ranma. He pointed to himself. “Me?”

Dr. McCoy padded over to the machine that Ranma had unplugged. “This machine is an electrocardiogram,” he explained to Ranma. “Or, if you prefer, ‘EKG.’ It reads the electrical activity of your heart to display a reading of your heartbeat. You undoubtedly heard the beeps—that was the measure of your heartbeat.”

Understanding dawned on Ranma. “So when I pulled out everything that was hooked up to me…”

“It was no longer receiving any activity and reported to me that your heart had stopped beating,” Dr. McCoy said with a nod. “Hence my swift arrival.”

“Sorry, Doc,” Ranma replied with a sheepish expression.

“At least you are contrite.” Dr. McCoy’s expression turned faintly amused. “Logan would already be halfway out the door. How are you feeling?”

“Hungry.”

Dr. McCoy nodded. “Allow me to conduct some examinations to make sure there is no lasting damage. You have healed amazingly quickly.”

At the doctor’s direction, Ranma sat back down on the bed. As the examinations began, Ranma asked, “How’s the school? What happened with that attack?”

“The Hellfire Club departed shortly after Mr. Summers arrived to assist you,” Beast explained as he checked Ranma’s back. “The panicked retreat of their leader caused some disarray.”

“Anyone hurt?”

“Nothing of any severity. Yours were by far the most serious of the lot.” The doctor pressed a cold metal circle to Ranma’s back. “Breathe in, please.” As Ranma complied, Dr. McCoy continued. “Mr. Drake and Mr. Lebeau assisted in driving the Black Queen away, and the other three were quickly routed. It would seem you were their primary objective. Perhaps you know something about that?”

Ranma gave a puzzled grunt, but the metal circle was removed. He glanced over his shoulder, and Dr. McCoy nodded. “She said she read up on me or had some info about me from my time here,” Ranma explained. “Made me some offers, all of which I refused. I know her type way too well to go with someone like that.”

“A wise attitude to take,” Dr. McCoy returned with a smile.

“So what exactly was the butcher’s bill?”

“Of course. You had numerous contusions across your back, accompanied by some rather severe abrasions. Fortunately, there was no skeletal damage, but Selene’s draining aura and touch can leave an… infection behind.” Dr. McCoy paused, gauging Ranma’s reaction. “Fortunately, Ms. Frost was able to remove any lingering psionic traces. Your, shall we say, ‘aura’ seems to have recovered as well. You did, however, suffer a rather nasty bacterial infection due to the open wounds, exposure, and weakened system. Some penicillin cleared that right up.”

Bruises and scrapes, but really bad ones, and I got sick, Ranma concluded. “What kind of infection does she leave?”

“Are you familiar with the legend of the vampire?”

Ranma nodded. “Teach said Selene is a psychic vampire… Wait, am I gonna be a psychic vampire?”

“No, that was what Ms. Frost labored to prevent,” Dr. McCoy explained. “Had you not received proper psychic treatment, it is possible that Selene’s infection may have turned you into a psychic vampire under her thrall.”

Ranma shuddered in revulsion at the thought.

“Indeed. Fortunately, it's not a concern anymore. Nor is the rest of your health, for that matter. You are, as the saying goes, as healthy as an ox.” Dr. McCoy pondered it, then grinned. “Or, perhaps, as healthy as a horse, considering your name!”

Ranma snorted. “Can I get somethin’ to wear and somethin’ to eat, then?” he asked, but smirked at the doctor’s joke.

“Of course. Mr. Maximoff brought a change of clothes from your dorm room, it’s in the drawer built in under your bed,” Dr. McCoy explained. “Your previous clothes were a complete loss, I’m afraid. I’ll leave you to get dressed, and we can visit the kitchens for a quick snack. After that, however, it’s right to bed for you. You have a lot of friends who want to see you in the morning, after all.”

“Sure thing, Doc,” Ranma replied, smiling and hopping off the bed as Dr. McCoy left the room. Right to bed, hah, he thought. I need to get some training in so I don’t have to get help next time I run into that woman! I’m not getting blindsided a second time!

Quickly dressing in his black drawstring pants and red tangzhuang, Ranma then joined Dr. McCoy in heading for a small, private kitchen rather than the massive kitchen in the cafeteria. A quick meal was made, and Ranma didn’t quite promise that he was heading to bed, but agreed that he needed some more sleep.

Sleep, after all, was important after training.

Letting out a breath, Ranma contemplated the problem. In terms of physical strength, Selene had impressed him. She hadn’t displayed anything he was not capable of or had not seen himself, but being able to make that bar was still noteworthy to him. If she drains ki, I wonder if she has to expend it to empower herself, he considered. She might not be able to generate it as quickly as I can. He blinked, cocking his head in thought. I generate so much because I trained myself to do so. I could use ki even before I learned the Shishi Hokodan, the Hiryuu Shoten Ha is a ki technique… Even the Amaguriken is just using my ki to increase the speed of my entire body without sacrificing any strength.

He took a breath, letting the air fill his lungs and feeling the rush of ki generating in his body. Breath was essential to maintaining his ki abilities. Focus was the key to shaping them to his will. Selene had not had any particular breathing patterns to indicate an adeptness at ki, and while she had moved like a trained fighter, it had been more like how Herb’s bulky companion Lime was clearly a trained fighter rather than like a master martial artist.

So she’s not a martial artist, she’s just someone with powers, he concluded. Dangerous, but I just need to figure out how to counter her. Her strength is hefty but nothin’ I haven’t dealt with before. Her psychic power to move things didn’t impress me much. What I really need is a counter to that drain attack and her psychic infection.

A psychic infection sounded, to Ranma, an awful lot like a ki infection, especially since when Jean and Professor X had been helping him construct the barrier against the irrational fear response of the Cat-Fist, his mind had created its own walls to reinforce theirs out of his ki. If it was, in fact, ki, then shutting out the intrusion of Selene’s aura would also mean blocking the infection. The theory was sound in Ranma’s mind, at least.

Gotta run it by the experts, he thought as he began to slowly move into the opening of a basic kata. Maybe they know someone else who drains energy and can help me figure it out. His breathing fell into a regular rhythm as he slipped into a state of meditative focus. Never having been particularly good at sitting still, Ranma preferred to meditate while in motion. After all, healthy body, healthy mind, right?

It was only when he realized that the day was getting brighter around him that he came out of the trance and remembered his promise to Dr. McCoy to get some sleep. Sheepishly winding down, Ranma began a light jog for his dorm, intending to get a quick shower and a couple of hours of sleep. The clock read 5:49 AM when Ranma’s eyes closed.

A bang at the door jolted Ranma out of his slumber. The clock now read 7:12 AM, and the morning sun shone through the window. As Ranma pushed himself upright, he glanced over at the door and saw a familiar dark-haired girl with brown eyes. “Akane?” he mumbled sleepily.

The air was almost crushed out of Ranma’s lungs and the spike of adrenaline immediately shot him fully awake as Akane crashed into him, arms around him and squeezing tightly as she sobbed into his chest. Behind her, just entering the room, were Izzy, Jia, Nabiki, and Kasumi.

“Hey, Akane,” Ranma strained out. “Nice to see you, too, can I get some air?”

Sniffling, Akane relaxed her vice grip a bit, and Ranma wheezed for air gratefully. “It’s your fault… You went and got so badly hurt…!”

“Jeez, take a quick nap after a rough fight and everyone goes all to pieces,” Ranma quipped. The glare Jia and Izzy shot at him, along with the smirk from Nabiki and Kasumi’s hand rising to her mouth, caused him to blink. “What?”

“You were out cold for three days, you jerk!” Akane sobbed.

“Three days?” Ranma asked incredulously, looking over to the others. Of the four, Nabiki and Kasumi nodded, but Izzy and Jia walked over, the redhead gently patting Akane on the shoulder.

“There, there, Akane, dear. You’ve had your turn. It’s ours now,” the redhead said, not unkindly. Akane sniffled, nodding, and pulled away—but not before punching Ranma in the arm hard enough to actually hurt. Ranma rubbed tenderly at the spot, raising an eyebrow at Jia.

“I can’t believe you did that!” Jia said. “Stupid, insensitive jerk, do you have any idea how much you worried us, staying behind like that?” As if to punctuate her statement with her anger, Jia reared back and kicked Ranma in the shin. He hardly felt it. Jia, however, began to hop around on one foot, swearing in Korean.

“I warned you,” Nabiki said, not losing her smirk.

“Stop looking so damn smug!” Jia snapped back. Gingerly, she set her foot down, whimpering, “Your turn, Izzy.”

Izzy’s expression was livid as she stepped up to Ranma. As usual, the Italian redhead was in a beautiful green dress that showed off an incredible amount of her body. Just as usual, however, Ranma focused not on that but on the glare in the girl’s emerald eyes. Before he could think to say anything, and before she said anything herself, she slapped him across the face with enough force to turn his head.

“That was for doing something so stupid and… and so inconsiderate of the rest of us!” she declared, turning around with what could only be called a flounce and storming out.

Wincing at the sharp stinging in his cheek, Ranma looked up to see Jia biting her lower lip with an odd expression as she watched in Izzy’s wake. “Man, if I had any doubts that Izzy liked you, that slap cleared them right up,” the Korean girl said.

“Glad to be of service,” Ranma grumbled, rubbing at his cheek.

“Think I could get her to slap me like that?” Jia wondered aloud. The Tendo sisters all shot her a wide-eyed look.

“Why would you want to?” Ranma asked. The Tendos’ eyes returned to him as Jia adopted a sly smirk.

“One day, Saotome, some very lucky girl is going to give you one hell of an education,” she said simply. “I’m going to go after her and leave you with these three. See you at breakfast.” With that, she took her leave—albeit with a slight limp.

Ranma raised his eyebrow at the Tendo sisters. “Three days?” he asked again.

“Three days, Ranma,” Nabiki replied, crossing her arms. “Do you maybe have an explanation?”

“Feel like I oughta be askin’ you that, Nabiki,” Ranma shot back. “That woman knew all about me. Are you still sellin’ crap about me to whoever pays up?”

“I haven’t sold a damn thing about you since I’ve gotten here,” Nabiki said. “Who would I even sell to? Nobody around here believes you when you tell them you’re a baseline human, and you’re not exactly quiet about that. Besides, I don’t need to do any of that here. The scholarship covers all of my needs and even gives me a little stipend for personal spending.”

Ranma blinked, trying to search Nabiki’s face for any sign of deception. Not that Ranma had much faith in being able to see through her—in the pigtailed boy’s opinion, Nabiki was as capable of lying as she was of breathing. Still, he relaxed back for the moment, glancing over at Akane. “So, uh… You seem to be gettin’ on with Izzy now?” he asked her. “And your English is better.”

“Seeing you passed out in a coma made me think about how stupid it was to be fighting with you over a girl who likes you… and Ms. Frost used her powers to help Kasumi and I with our English.” Akane wiped at her eyes. “But… Ranma… Maybe we should keep the engagement off. Just for now.”

Ranma blinked again, both eyebrows going up. No engagement? “Why?” he asked.

“After the attack, and after she helped with my English, I had a talk with Ms. Frost,” Akane explained. “Kind of a long one. Apparently, she’s had some… complicated relationship issues of her own. And there was a lot of bitterness there before it got straightened out. She made me realize… we have a lot of bitterness, too. I think the forced engagement is a major contributing factor to the problem. Maybe… with a little separation… we can save what we’ve got.”

“Oh, my,” Kasumi murmured. “Does this mean Ranma will be going on a date with Isabella after all?”

Akane tensed up at the question, but Nabiki simply snorted. “After the way she slapped him? Not likely to be any time soon.”

“Well, if it does, it… it doesn’t matter,” Akane asserted, straightening. “Ranma and I aren’t… engaged anymore. Unless we decide later that we want to be. And that should go for all three of us.” She looked suddenly thoughtful. “Actually, maybe you should go on a date with her.”

Ranma blinked. “Uh. What?”

“You’ve never really been on a date, have you?” Akane pointed out. “Not a real, actual, let’s-get-to-know-each-other-better date. Every relationship you’ve had jumped immediately from strangers to engaged.”

“Or married,” Nabiki chimed in. “After all, Shampoo didn’t consider him a betrothed. According to those laws, they’re already married.”

“Oh, my, I hope Izzy doesn’t have any qualms about dating a married man,” Kasumi said, a hand covering her mouth again. “Well, I suppose time will tell. Nabiki, don’t you have something you need to say to Ranma?”

Nabiki grimaced, as if suddenly having a taste of something foul in her mouth, such as her little sister’s cooking. However, she squared herself toward Ranma and bowed. “I’m sorry for stirring up problems with you and Akane. I have no excuses.”

Ranma blinked. “What’s goin’ on here?” he asked.

“Nabiki’s apologizing to you,” Akane said. “I know you’re not sure how to react to that, since nobody ever apologizes to you, but that’s what’s happening.”

Ranma gave Akane an annoyed look. “I can see that,” he replied in a deadpan tone. “I just want to know what her angle is.”

Nabiki straightened out, her grimace deepening slightly as she gave a sigh. “No gimmick,” she explained. “I screwed up and caused a stupid fight with Akane. Maybe she could have helped with her powers if she’d been at lunch with you there.”

Ranma held his tongue. As much as he wanted to express his doubts, doing so in the past had only ever gotten him savagely beaten by Akane. The fact was that he had gotten crushed by Selene, and he was only just beginning to start the path to counter that, and it would require incredibly advanced manipulation of his ki, more akin to the Umisenken and Yamasenken than to the relatively crude applications used in the Hiryuu Shoten Ha or Moko Takabisha.

Akane had great eidetic memory for forms, especially heightened as it was by her mutation. Manipulation of her spiritual energy, however, was still far beyond her. Selene would probably have killed her.

The tomboy in question raised her eyebrows at Ranma’s lack of response. “Wow. It’s that bad, huh?” she asked.

“What?” Ranma blinked at the girl’s question.

“Normally, by now, you’d already be saying how I’d have been nothing but dead weight and gotten in my way and we’d be arguing again,” Akane said. “But you clammed right up. So, it’s that bad, huh?”

Ranma stared at Akane for a moment, his jaw hanging slightly open, then he sighed and nodded. “Yeah. It’s that bad,” he admitted. “I got my ass kicked. I underestimated her, even knowing she was super dangerous, and paid the price. Sure, I got a couple good hits in but that won’t work a second time around.”

Akane crossed her arms. “Then, we need to train harder and better,” she said.

“We?” Ranma asked, smirking slightly.

“We,” Akane replied assertively. “You haven’t really shown me anything about ki manipulation. Maybe teaching me will help you come up with new stuff for fighting her.”

“That’s… not a bad idea,” Ranma conceded.

His growling stomach cut off further speculation.

Kasumi giggled. “Alright, we’ve held him up enough,” she said to her sisters. “Let’s let him get dressed. Ranma, we’ll see you at breakfast, alright?”

“Sure thing,” Ranma said.

Izzy, it turned out, was not feeling forgiving at breakfast. In fact, she steadfastly ignored Ranma’s every attempt to engage her in conversation or even get her attention at all. Just as Ranma was beginning to wonder if, perhaps, the right move was to just leave Izzy be until she cooled down, lunch came around—and, with it, Akane having an idea that she whispered to him.

“Think it’ll work?” he whispered back to Akane as the two of them walked up to the cafeteria table Izzy was sitting at. Jia was already present, seated next to the redhead, along with Nabiki and Kasumi sitting across from them.

“What have you got to lose?” Akane asked.

“My dignity?” Ranma replied sourly as Akane moved to join her sisters. He set his tray down, leaving a chair between where it was and where Izzy sat, and cleared his throat. “Izzy…”

Perhaps she was feeling more forgiving now at lunch. Maybe it was something in his tone. Either way, the plant-based mutant turned from Jia to face Ranma, though her eyes were still a bit frosty. “Hm?”

Ranma immediately dropped himself down into seiza sitting position. He took a breath, focusing his ki, knowing that anything less than a flawless execution of the technique would fail. Anything Goes School of Martial Arts, Saotome Style…! He moved in a blur, palms pressing flat to the floor in front of him and forehead coming to rest on the tile floor. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he chanted rapidly.

There was a long, drawn-out silence. At least, in Ranma’s opinion, it was drawn-out. The Crouch of the Wild Tiger was a secret maneuver of the Saotome School, according to his father. Of course, to anyone else, it was simply a form of groveling. While Cologne had sarcastically praised the virtues of the technique during his training in the Hiryuu Shoten Ha, there certainly was some benefit to simply apologizing and begging forgiveness.

A sudden, slight pressure rested on the back of his head, and Izzy gave a low hum as if considering his fate. Behind her, Ranma could hear Jia say, “This is a glass of cold water away from being the hottest thing ever.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nabiki said, clearly amused.

The pressure lifted, and something poked the top of Ranma’s head. He lifted his face from the floor, coming face-to-face with Izzy’s bare foot. His eyes went further up, meeting hers, which were now amused. “Alright, forgiven,” she said. “You didn’t have to go so far as to kowtow to me, you know.”

Regaining his feet quickly, Ranma shrugged, giving a slightly sheepish grin. “The Saotome School of Anything-Goes Martial Arts doesn’t do anything half-way, even apologies,” he said. He watched as the redhead leaned over, moving his tray to the seat next to her, so he sat down to eat.

“Do you even know what you were apologizing for?” Jia asked.

“I have to guess here,” Ranma admitted. “Because I’m kind of a dumbass. But… it’s because I put myself in danger and that worried you guys?”

“He can learn,” Nabiki mused.

“Accurate, but not the sum total,” Izzy said. “You also deliberately removed us from being able to help.”

“He does that all the time,” Akane chimed in.

Ranma scratched at his head. “Well, no offense, but there’s not a lot anyone would have been able to do in that fight,” he said. “I could sense their intent was focused on me specifically, and they were really powerful. Akane might be stronger than me now, but she wasn’t there and she doesn’t have the ki chops she’d need for a fight like that yet. There’s nothin’ Jia could have hacked, and no plants in the cafeteria for you to control, Izzy.”

“And Mateo’s power hasn’t manifested anything especially useful for direct combat yet, either,” Izzy conceded. “Still…”

“Look, it’s the duty of a martial artist to protect people,” Ranma said. “If people around me are in danger they can’t defend themselves from, I’m either gonna get them outta that danger or draw it away from them. It’s just how I am. I wish I could help it, but I can’t.”

“No, you don’t,” the girls all said at once.

Ranma chuckled weakly. “No, I don’t,” he admitted.

“I can appreciate the sentiment,” a new voice said. Ranma turned and looked up from his lunch, seeing Jean standing over him. “But you’re still a student here and our responsibility. Please, next time, just get to the emergency shelter.”

“No promises, Teach,” Ranma replied, finishing off his food and pushing the emptied tray away. He gave a grin to the redhead, who simply shook her head with an amused sigh and walked away.

Akane cleared her throat. “Ranma, maybe you should talk with Izzy,” she said. “About what we discussed before breakfast.”

Ranma blinked, then glanced over to Izzy, then back to Akane. “Like… now?” he asked.

Akane rolled her eyes. “You two have your next class together, right? Ask her on the way to class,” she said, standing up with her empty tray. “It’s like you were raised by wolves, I swear…”

“More like a panda,” Ranma pointed out, glancing back to Izzy, who was giving him a curious look. He chuckled nervously, standing up with his own empty tray to handle. “So, uh… Class?” he suggested.

“And this ‘talk’ you apparently need to have,” Izzy replied with a raised eyebrow, standing up.

Explaining the basis of the “talk” had been fairly simple. Izzy had been understanding of Akane’s—or, rather, Professor Frost’s—reasoning, and had accepted it herself. At least, she had accepted it once Ranma had managed to finish haltingly explaining it. Now, with a few minutes before the bell, she waited outside of the classroom, an expectant look on her face as she stared down the pigtailed boy, one eyebrow raised slightly. “Was there anything else you needed to say to me?” she asked.

Ranma rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. “Look, I’ve never actually done this before, never been on this end of it,” he admitted. “But… do you want to… maybe go out on a date somewhere?” he asked. “This weekend?”

“A date this weekend sounds lovely,” Izzy replied, beaming. “Why don’t we meet up after school and discuss the particulars of the date?”

As planned, they met after school and discussed the finer details. Absent interference from busybodies, friends, or other interlopers, it was decided to have lunch and watch a movie at what was popularly described as a “mutant district” not far from the school, and then visit a nature preserve. Perhaps surprisingly, the latter had been Ranma’s idea, in part thinking that Izzy might want to go, and in part because of his own fondness for wilderness areas.

Ranma was, himself, surprised by the existence of a “mutant” district, but accepted the rationale that with there being so much prejudice against people with an awakened X-gene, it simply made sense for people to band together like that, but non-mutants were not barred from entry. In fact, non-mutated superhumans or extraterrestrials who had emigrated to Earth frequently also shopped in such districts, which were more accommodating to unusual needs.

The week progressed from there, and as it often does, the weekend approached…

“Quiet Saturday, huh, Kitty?” Jean Grey asked, taking a sip of her coffee as she looked over the day’s agenda. She was already halfway through it. “You’re sure you’re fully recovered from Selene’s attack?”

“I was fully recovered days ago, Jean, I’m fine,” the petite brunette, one Kathryn Anne Pryde, said with a smile. Her brown hair was tied back in a ponytail, and owing to there being no classes today, she was lounging in a pair of jean shorts and a T-shirt. “Even Ranma was only out for a few days and he took the worst of it of anyone. We’re sure he’s not a mutant, right?”

“Reasonably,” Jean replied. “Dr. McCoy is doing a deep examination of his genome after seeing how quickly he recovered. Even Logan would still have been feeling it by the time Ranma was back up.”

“Yeah, meanwhile, Ranma’s not only back up and in class, I hear he’s got a date today,” Kitty said. “Juicy gossip and all that!”

“Does he? Good for him,” Jean replied, smiling. Maybe I’ll check in later today, see how his date’s going, she mused to herself. “With… Akane?”

“Actually, I heard more gossip that they’re separated right now, because he left today with Isabella Santoro,” Kitty replied, leaning forward and looking entirely too into the gossip for Jean’s liking.

“You know we didn’t make you a teacher for all the juicy gossip, right?” Jean asked with a smirk.

“I consider it a bonus of the position,” Kitty replied, sticking her tongue out.

Lunch was delicious. Being in the mutant district meant that the restaurant was accustomed to larger than normal portions, even enough to sate Ranma’s tremendous appetite. The movie had been surprisingly entertaining—instead of wanting something romantic, Izzy had deferred to Ranma’s tastes. Ranma had to admit to not knowing anything about films, so he had instead deferred back to Izzy. After some deliberation, the two settled on an action comedy which had been so utterly goofy that Ranma’s sides still ached.

Now, they were enjoying the late afternoon sun in the nature preserve, which had been larger than Ranma expected. He smiled at Izzy’s open delight as she moved through the greenery, taking the time to greet and speak to every plant she found.

He was distracted by a buzzing in his pocket. Reaching in, he found the cell phone that he had finally been convinced to get—covered, of course, by the Xavier Institute’s scholarship. At his own insistence, he had purchased something relatively cheap and durable, and taking Logan’s and Mr. Summers’s advice, he had picked a fairly basic Nokia phone that he had been assured—though he assumed there was a bit of humorous exaggeration to it—would withstand even a blow from the mighty Thor.

Checking the caller ID and seeing it had simply come up as “Teach,” he selected the “answer” option and held the phone to his ear, still watching Izzy. “Yello’?” he said.

“Hi, Ranma,” Jean’s voice came over the phone. “Heard you were out on a date today so I wanted to check in, since I’m also your ailurophobia therapist and all. Everything going well?”

“Hey, Teach. Yeah, so far. The sessions are helping, and the walls, too,” Ranma said. “Ran into a lot of loose cats today and even when I’m surprised, the… the fear’s not there as badly as it used to be. Anyway, right now, Izzy and I are at a… park? Nature preserve? Whatever you wanna call it. Just goin’ for a walk.”

“Alright, I’ll leave you be. Have fun.”

“Later, Teach,” Ranma said, ending the call and putting the phone back in his pocket. He smirked over at Izzy, who gave him a curious look. “Just Teach callin’ and checkin’ in, makin’ sure I haven’t had a ‘cat’ incident today.”

Izzy nodded with a smile, then her expression turned curious. “What in the world…?” she murmured, looking around.

Ranma blinked, moving closer to Izzy as he tensed up, feeling something different in the air as well. “I feel it, too… It’s not intent, it’s more like… somethin’ weird in the air?” he muttered.

Suddenly, from the blue sky, five lightning bolts struck the ground around the pair, rattling them with the crash of thunder and the brilliant flash of light. As the spots cleared from Ranma’s vision, he realized he was surrounded by five dangerous-looking individuals, each wearing dark red and purple bodysuits: three men and two women. One of the men, a massive individual who also seemed to have glowing, shimmering armor forming as he moved, approached Ranma. “Ranma Saotome?” he asked.

“That’s right, who’s as—” Ranma began, before the man backhanded him with enough force to launch him out of the circle and into the nearby copse of trees, smashing through several trunks. Shaking his head to clear it, Ranma was thankful that two years of surprise attacks at Furinkan plus the years on the road with his father had prepared him for that sort of nonsense, as while the blow itself had hurt, the trees had not.

“I am the Omega Hunter. I serve at the behest of my master,” the man who struck him said. “And it is my master’s will that you die, flatscan.”

Ranma wiped at the bit of blood on his lip, grimacing. Five to one was poor odds, but he shook his head at Izzy as she started to move. The quintet were essentially ignoring her to focus on him, and he wanted to keep it that way. A fight was his domain, and Izzy lacked the ability to respond accordingly. “That go for the rest of you, too?” he asked.

A lean man with fiery red hair and eyes held up his hands, and the ground below began to rumble slightly. “Call me Pyroclasm,” he said. “At least, before I kill you to make my master’s vision come true, flatscan!”

Ranma moved, even as the ground below him exploded into glowing molten rock. Five swift blows were delivered, and Pyroclasm was already beginning to fly back from them, consciousness slipping away, when Ranma realized he was moving… slowly. While he was still moving quickly, he was slower than he should have been. He glanced over to the third man, who was fit but slim, having a head of blond hair and blue eyes, and had his hands held out toward Ranma.

“I’d rather not do this, but it will be easier if you just accept your fate and let them kill you, Saotome,” the blond said. “My name is Chrono-Shifter. And I won’t let you undo my timeline.”

Undo his— Ranma began to think, before ducking under a blow from the Omega Hunter. Chrono-Shifter seemed to be accelerating the big mutant while slowing Ranma himself down, which was far from favorable, but Ranma was still faster. And, as he dodged the bigger man’s strikes, Ranma deduced that he was the more skilled fighter as well. With Pyroclasm still out, Ranma slipped in to trip the Omega Hunter, who ate dirt almost instantly due to the acceleration he was under, and Ranma wasted no time in jumping on his back.

Normally, Ranma was not one for striking vital points. But five on one odds with people trying to kill him made the decision easier, and so his feet slammed home along the Hunter’s back, seeking out damage to the kidneys, liver, lungs, and even his spine. He was about to do a second round when one of the women, whose face was obscured as if hidden in mist, struck—an energy blast manifesting from under the hood she wore and going through the space he occupied.

The slowness he had been afflicted by immediately lifted with a cry of pain from Chrono-Shifter and Ranma smirked. The ghostly-woman hadn’t even noticed the time-manipulator directly behind him. “Nice shot,” he quipped. Teamwork’s definitely not their forte, he decided.

The hooded woman seethed, hissing like steam escaping from a kettle, and held up her hands toward Ranma. Ranma sprang into the air, nimbly evading the energy blast fired at him—letting it sizzle over the Omega Hunter’s back—before aiming his momentum down at the woman in a flying kick. He was quite surprised when the world shifted in front of him, and instead of impacting the hooded woman, he went skidding across the ground as if he had been flying horizontally instead of vertically. Quickly, he arrested his impromptu flight, orienting himself and facing his opponents again.

This time, a brunette woman with glowing yellow eyes was facing him, hands glowing. “I am the Nebula Witch, and my comrade is Spectra. For the promise of power and the chaos he has wrought, I will ensure you cannot stop my master’s rise!” She waved her hands, and the ground began to crack open under Ranma’s feet.

Rather than waiting for whatever she obviously planned, Ranma leapt aside of the yawning earth, only to quickly backpedal as his landing point began to erupt in molten rock. A quick glance confirmed that Pyroclasm was back on his feet, and the Omega Hunter was also back up and charging directly for Ranma.

They’re bad at team coordination but if they could get their act together, they’d be a real problem, he decided. Individually, not so much.

Ranma shook his head, charging forward to get inside of the Hunter’s reach, avoiding the powerful blows to deliver his own retaliation into the man’s solar plexus, sternum, and throat. Reaching out as he slid past the staggering fighter, Ranma grabbed the Omega Hunter’s ankle, lifting him off the ground to throw him at Chrono-Shifter, who looked to be regaining his senses from Spectra’s energy blast. The impact of the large mutant slamming into him definitely averted that.

Ranma spun, evading another energy blast from Spectra, dashing forward under a literal hail of fire conjured up by the Nebula Witch. There was no hesitation about “not using his full strength” today. His fist impacted the Witch’s jaw with enough force to take her off the ground and send her careening into the dirt.

The fact that the “Witch” who hit the dirt burst into green fire and melted, however, presented a bit of a problem as the earth itself rose up to engulf him, leaving only his head exposed. The Nebula Witch grinned viciously as she stood at the base of the mound of earth that had entrapped Ranma, and he grimaced as he tried to leverage himself free.

“Ranma!” Izzy cried out, running forward from her cover in the trees.

“Stay back, Izzy!” Ranma yelled back, stopping her. “They’re after me, not you, and you’re not up for a fight like this!”

“Neither were you, it seems,” the Omega Hunter rumbled as he marched up the miniature hill to loom over Ranma’s head. “I’ll crush your skull and that’ll be the end of it.”

“I wanna barbecue him!” Pyroclasm protested, standing opposite the Omega Hunter.

Spectra simply seethed and hissed angrily.

“I could accelerate him until he dies of starvation and crumbles away,” Chrono-Shifter suggested, glaring at Ranma while nursing his injuries.

“I’ll bury him alive and leave him to die slowly,” the Nebula Witch asserted.

Ranma wanted to interject his own suggestion about how he was going to free himself and simply beat down the quintet, but before he could, another bolt of lightning split the sky with a crash of thunder. As the spots danced out of Ranma’s eyes, he found another person standing in the clearing, and blinked. She was a bit taller than Izzy, with hair that was a vibrant shade of red that Ranma had only seen on his own female form. Her almost olive skin tone was more like Izzy’s, however, along with a slight green tinge to it, and the emerald green eyes definitely looked exactly like Izzy’s. The skin tight green bodysuit showed off that she was in phenomenal shape, and her face…

Ranma found something about the smirk her red lips curved upward into to be unsettlingly familiar. “Looks like I’m right in the nick of time,” the stranger said.

Ranma blinked and she was suddenly in the middle of the five. His eyes opened just in time to see what seemed to be an image of five of the woman striking each of the five who had arrived to kill him, and all were sent flying as if struck by tremendous force. Letting out a breath, the redhead reared back and punched down into the earth, her arm sinking in as if the dirt were soft clay, and Ranma felt a powerful grip settle on his arm. With a grunt of effort, the redhead hauled him up out of the ground like uprooting a vegetable.

The mischievous grin she shot him was, once again, unsettlingly familiar in Ranma’s opinion. “I’ll get the Witch, Spectra, and Shifter. You get Hunter and Pyroclasm?” she suggested.

“Sure—wait, who are you?”

“I’ll explain later! Just call me Hana!” she replied, lunging past him to slam into Chrono-Shifter. While her movements were too fast for even Ranma to track, whatever she did robbed the man of consciousness before his feet had lifted off the ground. Her stance, however…

That’s… Saotome-style Anything-Goes, Ranma realized with a chill, before shaking his head. Head in the fight, Saotome! Questions later! He instead ran forward to brawl with the Omega Hunter for the third time on this encounter. No more nice guy! Put him down hard!

Ranma’s fists flew before the Hunter had even finished winding up. Unlike before, where he struck the vital points only a few times, this time he delivered no less than two hundred strikes to the Hunter’s sternum, stomach, kidneys, liver, and floating ribs.

Each.

With a pained wheeze that reminded Ranma of a deflating balloon, the huge man began to fly backward, but Ranma was already in motion, letting his ki enhance his speed as he closed with Pyroclasm, who was already trying to dredge up lava again. Once more, Ranma’s fists flew, striking pressure points and fragile bone structure. Enough was finally enough to stop taking the threat lightly, and several hundred blows later, Pyroclasm was just as unconscious as the Omega Hunter… when suddenly both seemed to fall through the ground.

Ranma whirled around, seeing the Nebula Witch floating in the air with Spectra, the Omega Hunter, Pyroclasm, and Chrono-Shifter next to her. The Witch was conscious, but the other four were clearly not. “You foolish child, daring to interfere!” she sneered at Hana. “We should have snuffed you out before you got this far!”

“Please, you tried when I was twelve, and that worked out fantastically for you, didn’t it?” Hana replied with a familiar, cocky smirk.

The Witch snarled, then waved her hand. The air around her rippled, and she and the four with her vanished from sight.

Hana gave a low whistle, “Ok, they jumped clear out of my range. That’s gonna put her down for at least the rest of the day,” she said, turning to Ranma. “Wow, look at you! So this is what you looked like at sixteen. Huh. Actually, a little scrawnier than I expected, but still!” Without warning, she threw herself forward, arms going around Ranma.

“Gah! What?! Scrawnier?” Ranma stammered.

“E-Excuse you!” Izzy called out indignantly, walking out of her hiding spot. “What exactly is going on here? I hope you have an explanation, because I doubt Ranma had anything to do with this!”

“Oh, actually, he has everything to do with this, but I really only want to explain this once. Hey, if you’re both this young—you’re still at the Xavier Institute, right?” Hana asked, stepping back. At the pair’s wary nods, she clapped her hands and beamed. “Great! Let’s go there and I’ll explain everything!”

Ranma glanced at Izzy, who glanced back at him and shrugged. With a sigh, Ranma pulled out his phone—amazed that it didn’t even have a scratch on it—and dialed. As the line connected, he spoke, “Hey, Teach? You might wanna sit down for this… and first of all, it’s not my fault, Izzy and I were just goin’ for a walk…”