Ranma 1/2 is the property of Rumiko Takahashi and whoever else has
the rights to it. Jet Moto is the property of Sony and 989 Studios.
Ranma and Jet Moto are used without permission.
===========================================================================
The sun struggled to shine through the thick, gray-black
clouds that loomed in the skies above. Occaisonally, a shaft of light would
break through the gloom, illuminating the stadium grounds far below as
people straggled in.
They occupied the sagging and worn seats in the stands, most checking
tickets in the hopes that their chosen racer would win or at least show.
Betting was one of the main reasons people attended amatuer circuit races,
hoping that playing the odds could pay off enough to justify their addictions.
Lead pilot for team Ryu-Ken, Akane Tendo was among the best on
the circuit. However, it was 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 also the only
pilot. 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. Being
the only pilot for her team, an accident could very well sink the
them all. 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. Nearly three meters long, and weighing in at four
hundred kilograms, the bike was designed for someone a good deal
larger than her. Nevertheless, she handled it easily enough. At its
side, arms deep in the guts of the machine, knelt Kasumi.
Kasumi was the eldest of the three Tendo daughters. She had
tried to pilot a Moto after the death of their mother ten years ago,
but found she had no talent for it. She did, however, find her niche in the
industry in two roles. As a mechanic, she kept the Motos running
in top condition. As a paramedic, she kept Akane running in top condition.
She wore blue coveralls, stained with grease and other assorted
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 prided herself 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, wondering just what the team would do
without her.
Footsteps sounded a short distance behind Akane. She didn't
know who would enter the team's Moto stall, nor did she care. It was
probably one of the security guards.
"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 not
in the mood."
It wasn't that he was unattractive. He was tall for a Japanese,
reaching nearly two meters. 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 grandieur, 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 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.
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. He raced in the pro circuits, his only reason
for running the minors was to try and win Akane's heart. 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 machines.
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 through the competition, she saw Kuno moving
fairly slow up ahead. He was staying just ahead of the other racers,
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
strips 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 315 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.
It was the beginning of the fourth lap, and the track looked
more or less clear ahead of her. Behind her, 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, punk! she
thought with a feral grin.
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 had been a beautiful place, once. The houses were at one
time inhabited by people other than squatters, roaches, and rats.
The walls used to be clean, without a trace of grafitti, and the
streets were not strewn with garbage. However, Nerima Ward was now an
eyesore.
The drizzle 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 season 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. Its 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,
she 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," he answered, leaning on his worn cane.
"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 with
a slight undertone of anger. 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?"
"One season." 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! Soun turned and limped out
toward the hallway, leaning on his old cane while Kasumi and Nabiki followed.
===========================================================================
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-trainer. Ranma didn't really care for holo-trainers,
preferring instead to train 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 appeared
and glomped him.
"OH, MY SON! I'M SO HAPPY YOU'RE HERE!" Son? What 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. She didn't smell
dinner, which was unusual. Perhaps Kasumi was busy?
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 hundred 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 fiercely. The air in
Soun's lungs came out in a rush as Akane's strong arms gripped him in
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 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.
=========================================