Ranma 1/2 is the property of Rumiko Takahashi and whoever else has the
rights to it.


Jet Moto is the property of..well... whichever company designed and
published it.

Ranma and Jet Moto are used without permission.

=========================================================

                 The sun struggled to shine through the thick, gray-black
clouds. The stadium was easily capable of accommodating nine thousand
people, but at present only two thousand were there. The people were
gathered there that day to witness what was quite possibly the most popular
sport in the world -- Jet Moto.

	The human race had seen several advances in the first fifteen years of the
twenty-first century. Many technological, medical, and military advances had
improved the lives of countless people. As technology improved, most sports
of the twentieth century became obsolete. The public demanded a sport with
greater challenges, a better rush, and above all, more risk. Jet Moto fit
the bill. 

	Moto pilots were a select group. A pilot's training had to be extensive and
brutal, for Moto racing demanded nothing less. Those that were skilled
enough to race in legitimate circuits could achieve great success in the
modern world.

	Lead pilot for team Ryu-Ken, Akane Tendo was among the best on the circuit.
The circuit, however, was not among the best. It was actually one of the
lowest ranked in Japan. She kept telling herself that many of the most
successful pilots got their starts in the small-time circuits, but that
didn't make the lack of opportunities any easier. 

	She was not only the lead pilot for the team, but the only one. Nabiki
never liked the sport itself, preferring the financial end. Kasumi wasn't
much of a pilot, either. However, she was a trained paramedic, and possibly
the best damn mechanic on the circuit. That left Akane to shoulder the
burden of racing alone. 

	The form-fitting black jumpsuit emphasized her curves nicely, in her
opinion. It was standard racing gear; the jumpsuit was made of a tear and
flame-retardant material, as were the gloves and knee-high boots. The helmet
would absorb the shock of most impacts, keeping her head somewhat safe. None
of this was fool-proof, though. In Jet Moto, a screw-up could mean an
accident, and an accident could mean the end of a career, if not one's life.
And being the only pilot for her team, an accident could very well sink the
team. She pushed all thoughts in that direction out of her head. There was
no point dwelling on what could be.

	She looked over at her Moto, a black streamlined affair that resembled a
hovering motorcycle. It was rather large, considering Akane's size.
Six-hundred-forty centimeters long, and weighing in at four hundred
kilograms, the bike was designed for someone a good deal larger than her,
but she handled it easily enough. At its side, arms deep in the guts of the
machine, knelt Kasumi.

	She wore blue coveralls, stained with grease and assorted other mechanical
lubricants. The team logo was emblazoned on the back, a dragon winding
around an upward-pointing fist. Her chestnut hair was pulled up under her
cap, with a few stray locks hanging around her head and face. Kasumi was
always tinkering with Motos, fixing one problem or another. She always
insisted on keeping the complex machines running in top condition. Kasumi
also insisted on trying new techniques to squeeze a little more speed from
the engines. Akane smiled at her sister's kneeling form.

	"Akane Tendo! Your one true love has come for thee!" Her smile vanished at
the sound of that booming voice. Without turning, she snarled,

	"What do you want, Kuno."

	"I seek naught but to bask in the heavenly glory of thy beauty, to..."

	"Stow it, Kuno." Akane said as she turned to face him. "I'm in no mood."

	It wasn't that he was unattractive. He was tall for a Japanese, reaching
nearly six feet. His blue pilot suit bore the logo of the Blue Thunder team
on his chest, and served to enhance his lean-muscled frame. His brown hair
fell over eyes of the same shade. He was quite handsome, in fact. 

	"Why dost thou turn aside mine affections?" Kuno asked. "What must this
noble samurai..."

	"OUT, Kuno!" Akane shouted. She was already tired of his delusions of
samurai granger, and he had only been in the room for forty seconds. Kuno
stiffened, and said,

	"Fair enough, maiden, for 'tis nearly time for the contest, which I shall
surely win. For no mere commoner can defeat the Blue..."

	"OUT!" Finally, Kuno made his exit. Akane took a few deep, calming breaths
to let out the anger. She REALLY hated that jerk...

	"Finished!" Kasumi said in her usual cheerful tone. Akane turned, and tried
to smile at her oldest sister.

	"Thanks, Kasumi." she said.

	"ALL PILOTS, REPORT TO STARTING POSITIONS! REPEAT, ALL PILOTS REPORT TO
STARTING POSITIONS!" Kasumi stepped aside as Akane walked to the large Moto.
In one single, practised motion she mounted the machine. Kasumi handed Akane
her helmet, with the team logo painted on both sides. After placing it on
her head, she thumbed the startup button. The engines hummed to life, the
small magnetic field forming to lift the Moto from the maintenance pad.

	The luminous gagues indicated field strength, current RPM's, speed, battery
levels, all the things a pilot needed to know. Kasumi would also keep track
of the Moto's condition from the pit zone, and could tell a bit more from
her instruments. Satisfied that everything was functioning smoothly, Akane
engaged the drive, twisting the throttle just a hair forward. The Moto
obligingly glided toward the large bay door, which began to open and let in
the light from outside.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The track wasn't up to code, but there wasn't much one could do about it.
The magnetic barriers that kept the Motos on the track were just barely
functioning, and the electro-magnetic strips that ran beneath the track
worked with absolutely no consistency. Such hazards made piloting a Moto
very dangerous and unpredictable, and a few pilots had lost their lives
because of it. Akane, however, had no choice but to race on these
substandard tracks. She looked over the competition, sizing them up.

	Many of the other racers rode piecemeal machines, homegrown Motos that
looked as though they would fall apart if their pilots gunned their engines.
Her Moto, though getting on in years, was in excellent condition. In fact,
the only other Moto she saw that looked to be in as good shape as hers was
Kuno's. She often found herself wondering why in hell he raced in such a
low-rated circuit. His team, not to mention him personally, was rather
wealthy. If her team had HALF the money Blue Thunder was rumored to have...

	"RACERS! READY..." Akane focused all her attention to the track ahead. The
next four laps would decide whether or not Nabiki would be able to pay off
more of the team's numerous debts. "SET..." Akane tightened her grip on the
throttle. 

	"GO!"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Akane gunned the big Moto's engine, the two thrusters in the rear flaring
to life and propelling the machine forward. Akane was pushed back a little
from the force of the takeoff. She had been placed in the middle of the pack
and thus was surrounded by many other racers. Using the Moto's large size to
her advantage, she began to power through the lighter racers. 

	Her Moto was a heavy model. What she lost in acceleration and agility, she
gained in more stability and a higher top speed. She could usually knock
lighter bikes off-balance easily, a tactic which fit in nicely with her
aggressive style of racing. 

	As she cleared a path between through the competition, she saw Kuno moving
fairly slow up ahead. He was staying just ahead of the competition,
obviously trying to be easy on her. Whether it was because she was a girl,
or that he was enamored of her, she didn't care. Akane hated being
patronized. She cranked up the throttle a little more, knocking another
racer out of the way. 

	The G-forces rose as the Moto gained speed, the scenery blurring past as
she rocketed down the track. The pack of twenty racers rounded the second
turn, one hitting a faulty spot on the magnetic stips and losing control.
Akane saw him hit the wall and fly off his Moto in the rear-view image in
the top-left corner of her HUD. The Heads Up Display showed basically what
the gagues showed, along with her current race status, and gave a small
image of what was behind. An oval shape in the bottom left corner
represented the track, with her being the glowing green dot and Kuno the
glowing blue one, for he was currently in first. She felt sorry for the
pilot of the crashed Moto, but that sort of thing happened on the track.

	The first lap ended, as did the careers of two other pilots. Her Moto had
reached top speed long before then, and she was rapidly catching up to Kuno.
He was her most formidable opponent, the only one on the track who could
give her a constant challenge. She still had other racers to go past, but
they wouldn't pose much of a problem.

	She looked in her rear-view image, and caught sight of a pilot riding her
slipstream. He bore no team logo that she could see, which wasn't that
unusual. Sometimes pilots tried to break into the circuits alone, without a
team or sponsor. In any event, this one wouldn't do it in her slipstream
with her doing all the work.

	A quick glance told her that his bike was custom made. It didn't conform to
any one building style used by the major designers like Mitsubishi,
Kawasaki, and the like. It seemed like a melding of several design styles.
He effortlessly weaved through what racers stood between them. Akane decided
to worry about him after Kuno. First things first, after all.

	They were nearing the end of the second lap, Akane and Kuno running neck
and neck. He was no longer holding off, now actively racing against her.
Akane knew how to play by the rules and when to break them. She gunned
the engine going into the turn, picking up speed in the deadly arc and
daring the other pilots to follow her. She closed her eyes and let her
reflexes take over - the G-forces permitted nothing less. Let them try to
follow her. Even Kuno couldn't keep up with her like this.

	Though Kuno's Moto was more nimble than hers, her higher top speed and
momentum paid off. A well-timed turbo-boost sent her sailing past her
adversary. The Moto was somewhat harder to control at 502 KpH, but it was
nothing she couldn't handle. A quick look at the rear-view image confirmed
that the asshole riding her slipstream was currently occupied with Kuno. It
looked like she'd be bringing home the bacon tonight.

	The beginning of the fourth lap, and the track looked more or less clear
ahead of her. Behind, though was a different story. She saw that same guy
riding her ass again. This time, though, he was much closer and still
gaining ground.

	//Ok, jerk.\\ Akane thought. //You want a piece of me?\\ His Moto was a
fast one for its size. He was, in fact, approaching her top speed.
Controlling a Moto that size at such high speeds had to be tough, but he
looked as though he did it with no effort. //Let's go.\\

	Akane briefly considered just using her last turbo-boost to leave him
chewing dust, but she felt that she could simply out-manuever him. The two
went into a curve, Akane veering to the inside. Without warning, he shot
past her, leaving her behind. //What the HELL?\\

	She saw the bright white glare from the triad design of his three
thrusters, and knew he had used a boost. They were exiting the second turn,
with the stranger rapidly shrinking in the distance. Akane fired her last
turbo-boost, knowing it was her only option. 

	The G-forces nearly doubled as the boost engaged, sending the Moto hurtling
at insane speeds toward the leader's back. Akane steadily and quickly gained
back lost ground. She took stock of his appearance.

	He was muscular, as much so as Kuno if not more. His boots and the bottom
half of his suit were coal black, while the top and helmet were bright red.
Not bad, really. It was a shame she'd have to beat him.

	The third turn came and went, Akane in an excellent position to reclaim
first place. The fourth and final turn approached, with the leader high on
the outside. Oh, this was PERFECT!

	Completely without warning, he cut down sharply, having engaged another
turbo-boost. Akane struggled to keep from losing control as he rocketed off
ahead of her. Furious with herself for underestimating her opponent, she
pounded the instrument panel with one hand as she cut the throttle. He was
well across the finish line before she'd even gotten out of the turn.

=========================================================

	Nerima was a beautiful place, once. The houses were once inhabited by
people other than squatters, roaches, and rats. The walls were once clean,
without a trace of grafitti, and the streets were not strewn with garbage.
However, Nerima Ward was a damned eyesore, now. 

	The drizzle just hung in the air like a veil, giving everything around a
softened look. The water ran off the street in technicolor streams where it
picked up oil and other substances on its way to the storm drains. The still
air was pierced by a high-pitched whine off in the distance. A small shadow
could be seen making its way through the gray mist at high speed.

	The red Kawasaki Ninja screamed through the filthy streets of Nerima like a
pissed-off banshee. It was a land model, not a Moto. Motorcycles were still
used in this day and age, and Motos were not legal on the street. Of course,
that never stopped anybody. Many people still raced on old stretches of
road, homemade courses, and even through the streets of dilapidated wards
like this one. Most of these were run by gangs, and it wasn't uncommon for
people to end up dead at those black races. 

	The man atop the red crotch-rocket was leaning forward, his stomach almost
touching the gas tank. He wore a Moto pilot's outfit, a synth-leather
jumpsuit; red on top and black on bottom, black knee-high boots of the same
material, and a red helmet with a nomex shell. Suits such as this were meant
to stand up to considerable abuse, and were required on the circuit. A pair
of stormy blue eyes peered out from behind the helmet's visor, and a hint of
a pigtail peeked out of the back. 

	As he rode towards his destination, he cursed his worthless father for the
umpteenth time. The fat bastard had the gall to sign him to a five-year
contract with a team he'd never bloody heard of before. And what really
chapped his ass was that there was nothing he could do about it. Being that
he was only sixteen, his father literally owned his Moto career.

	Oh, well, at least it was better than the backstreet races he'd been in
for, well, most of his life. He swore to himself that he would make the most
of the opportunity, even though he hated it. The thought brought up memories
of Ranko...He pushed them into the back of his mind, where he kept them
locked away. Then, through the drizzle, he saw a green, neon-lit sign:

	Tendo Moto Training Complex.

	Time to begin, then.
=========================================================

	The garage was clean, as far as garages went. The tools were all organized
on the wall racks and in the toolboxes, and the floor was clean, aside from
the oil and other fluid stains. Spare Moto parts, most still in their
original packages, lined one of the walls. Junk parts were stacked in a pile
near the recycling bin. 

	In the center of the room, a Moto sat with one of its side panels removed.
It's powerful engines were exposed to the brown-haired woman kneeling in
front of it. Her hair was tied in a simple ponytail that hung down her back.
She wore light blue coveralls with the team logo embroidered on the back.
The sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, grease smeared in places along the
arms and gloves. Her face had a few smudges on it as well, which strangely
set off her deep brown eyes and slight smile. 

	"Kasumi." She immediately recognized the voice from the intercom.

	"Yes, Father?"

=========================================================

	The medium-sized space was immaculate to say the least. Everything in the
room was organized, every detail in its proper place. Behind the desk in the
center of the room, sat a woman who both conformed to and defied the
conditions of the room. 

	Her attitude was no nonsense, but her attire left little to the
imagination. a halter and cut-off shorts weren't exactly clothes one would
wear around the office. Nabiki Tendo, however, was known for setting her own
rules. As she pored over the teams' balance sheet, she heard the vid-phone
chime. Glancing at the small screen on her desk, she recognized her father's
name. "What is it, daddy?" she asked, just a hint of irritation in her voice.

	"Come, Nabiki, I have something to tell you." With that, he cut off the
transmission, leaving Nabiki to wonder just what the old fool was going on
about. She hated interruptions, and her father hardly had anything worth
saying these days. Heaving an irritated sigh, she rose from her plush
corinthian leather chair, and walked toward the door. Might as well see what
the old codger wanted.

=========================================================

	The house proper was done in a traditional Japanese style. Sliding doors,
tatami mats, low tables, the whole shebang. Soun and his two daughters sat
in the dining room. While Kasumi (who was somewhat cleaner than she was in
the garage), and Nabiki waited for his big announcment, Soun was trying to
gauge just how much to tell them. Kasumi, bless her, would just smile and
bear it. Nabiki, well, would try to find the monetary worth of it. Akane,
though, would probably be glad to hear the news.

	"Well, daddy, what's the big news?" asked Nabiki. Her mask of indifference
was firmly in place. Clearing his throat, Soun began.

	"Girls, we're getting a new pilot." Kasumi kept smiling. A new Moto to fix!
Nabiki scowled at him.

	"A new pilot? You bought the contract of another pilot?"

	"Yes."

	"And why wasn't I informed?" Nabiki hated being left out of decisions like
this. Besides, her father didn't know his ass from a hole in the ground
sometimes.

	"Because I thought he could be an asset to this team." Soun said. He didn't
like having his decisions questioned.

	"Who is he, Father?" asked Kasumi in her usual sweet voice.

	"His name is Ranma Saotome. He's the son of my good friend, Genma Saotome."
Nabiki groaned inwardly at the news. She should have known her father would
pull some half-baked stunt like this. Steadying her voice, she asked,

	"How long did you buy his contract for?"

	"Five years." Nabiki nearly face-faulted. No probation run, just buy the
contract and damn the consequences. This was just WONDERFUL! Well, might as
well make the best of it.

	"How good is he?" asked Kasumi. This was one of the questions Soun was
dreading. Soun was saved, though, by the computer's chime for attention.
	
	"What is it?" asked Soun.

	"Sir, one Ranma Saotome is outside. He says you're expecting him." came the
androgynous voice of the complex's computer. Soun's eyes lit up like a kid's
on Christmas. Finally! He spun on his heels and charged out into the
hallway, Kasumi and Nabiki following at a more sedate pace.
	=========================================================

	//So THIS is the Tendo Moto Training Complex.\\ thought Ranma as he walked
through the covered entryway, heading into the house proper. His helmet was
in tucked under his right arm, his outfit damp from the drizzle outside. He
gazed around, taking in the area around the complex.

	The complex itself was rather small. A house in the traditional style that
connected to a garage, what looked like a gym, and a holo-chamber. Ranma
didn't really care for holo-chambers, preferring instead training out in
real world conditions. The gym, on the other hand, drew his eye. He had a
feeling he'd spend a lot of time there. Suddenly, a door slid open, and a
man in a brown three-piece with long black hair and a black moustache
charged out and glomped him.

	"OH, MY SON! I'M SO HAPPY YOU'RE HERE!"  Son? What the hell was he talking
about? One thing was for sure, he had one hell of a bear hug. Ranma's lungs
burned and his head felt light from lack of oxygen. He tapped the man's
shoulder, trying to get his attention.

	"Father, I think you're suffocating him." came a voice from behind the
brown wall trying to crush him. Finally, the man relented, and Ranma was
left standing there, gasping for breath. He looked at the two girls behind
him. One had brown hair, and was wearing blue coveralls. The faint smears on
her arms and face professed her as a mechanic. The other, however, was
unreadable. Ranma gawked a little, and turned away. He didn't want to look
like a pervert.

	"Uh... I'm Ranma Saotome. Who are you?" If any of them were offended by
Ranma's lack of manners, they didn't show it. 

	"I'm Soun Tendo." the man replied, tears streaming down his face. These are
my daughters, Kasumi and Nabiki." he finished, indicating the two in order.
Kasumi, ever the gracious hostess, bowed, and offered to show Ranma around
the complex. 

	"Nah, thanks. I'd just like a shower, and some sleep." Still smiling,
Kasumi led him into the foyer. Soun was in tears from happiness, and Nabiki
just stared after them. She had to admit...he WAS cute. Maybe he'd turn out
to be a good pilot, too. He certainly looked it.

	"I'm home!" Akane called out as she walked into the house. Her father would
probably be in his office. The clock on the wall flashed 5:00 pm, which
meant Kasumi would be cooking dinner. She didn't smell dinner, which was
unusual.

	Akane had been fuming since the race ended. She couldn't BELIEVE she'd lost
to some non-affiliated HACK! Nabiki would no doubt chew her out for losing.
A thrity thousand yen purse could go a long way, as nabiki would be certain
to hammer into her skull relentlessly. Though she loved her sister, Akane
sometimes wanted to strangle her. Lost in her thoughts, she almost missed
her father standing in the hallway, an inexplicably happy look on his face. 

	"Akane, I'm glad you're home." He said, a giddy note in his voice. Maybe he
hadn't yet recieved the news.

	"Hi, dad." she replied. "I'm sorry..."

	"About the race?" Soun asked. "Don't worry about it."

	Now THAT was odd. Usually losing meant many long hours in the holo-trainer.
But happily dismissing it? Something was definitely up here.

	"Dad, are you feeling all right?" she asked.

	"Yes, yes, yes." he repiled impatiently. Eyes twinkling mischeviously, he
said, "I have a surprise for you."

	"Oh?" she asked. "What?"

	"Not what." he said as they started the walk into the foyer. "Who."

	"Huh?" Had her father gone off his nut?

	"I hired a new pilot."

	Akane squealed with delight, embracing him feircely. The air in Soun's
lungs came out in a WHOOSH as Akane's strong arms gripped him an what felt
like a death-lock. Now she wouldn't have to shoulder the burden of racing by
herself. 

	"How did you afford it?" she asked, her voice high with delight.

	"Nevermind that, Akane." Soun replied. "He's in the foyer with Kasumi and
Nabiki." Happily, she followed him into the foyer to meet their new pilot.

	The sound of voices floated down the hall from the well-lit family room.
One, a male voice, was entirely unfamiliar. That had to be him. Akane
stepped in the room, looked at the new pilot, and froze.

	He turned and looked at her, recognition flickering in his eyes.

	"YOU!?" they both shouted.

	"Oh, my. Do you know each other?" Kasumi asked. Nabiki looked interested in
the proceedings, now.

	Akane saw the outfit, and the build, and she knew who he was. It was
that...that...ASSHOLE from the race! The one who rode in her slipstream, cut
her off, and stole the win!

	Ranma instantly recognized the slowpoke from the race earlier that day. He
had to admit, she gave him a little bit of a run, but in the end, she was
too slow to keep up, and he told her so.

	The last thing Ranma saw before everything went black was that enraged
girl's fist flying at his face.

=========================================================

	Well, that's it for this one! I've had this fic sitting on my hard drive
for a few months, now, and have just gotten the time and inspiration to
complete the first chapter. If response and interest is good enough, I'll
continue it. Oh, Jet Moto is a racing game on the Playstation game console.

	As always, C&C is very welcome and very appreciated. Send it either
privately or publicly, whichever you prefer.

	Thanks to all those who were kind enough to check this out when it was
still just an idea.

	Thanks also go to Grayson Towler and Jamie Wilde, for helping to make
fanfiction, to me, a much more enjoyable pastime.

	BTW, the race scene was written while listening to the song Mister Big
Time, by Bon Jovi. 

	I hope you enjoyed it!

Jed