Humming merrily to herself, Mei turned her key in the deadbolt, unlocking it with a loud clack. She pulled her keyring free and stuffed it into the hip pocket of her blue denim overalls before pulling open the heavy glass door and stepping into her mother's bar. The front room was quiet and empty, but that was not unexpected for barely half past nine in the morning. There was a quiet, peaceful still about the place that she rarely saw anymore - at least, not since she herself had occupied the little bedroom on the second floor that now belonged to her new younger sister.
"Hey, Ranko?" she called out, but not loudly. "You down here?" Mei made her way to the service bar, setting the flat box in her hand down on the countertop. "I brought donuts!" She noted that everything behind the bar seemed to be in the same state it had been at closing time the night before, indicating that the Phoenix's live-in waitress and entertainer had not yet started preparations for the upcoming shift. Maybe she slept in, Mei thought as she stretched her arms skyward with a yawn. After all, we did get out of here a little later than usual without Izzi here to help with cleanup.
The diminutive server stepped behind the service bar, filling a pilsner glass with the six-button soda gun. C'mon, caffeine. Do your thing, she thought as she raised the glass to her lips.
Still carrying the half-full glass, she slipped through the blue slatted door between the two bar counters and made her way down the narrow hallway past her mother's office, hanging a right at the entrance to the slender staircase. Mei climbed the stairs, stepping softly so as not to make too much noise in case her sister was still asleep. Mei, you absolute blockhead, she thought with an amused smirk as she reached the top of the stairs. Bringing her breakfast in bed would have been a lot more effective if you hadn't left the damned box of donuts downstairs. Deciding the return trek wasn't worth it, she reached out for the door on the left side of the cramped landing, rapping three times on it gently. "Ranko? You up, sis?" she asked quietly, hoping not to wake the younger girl if she were still asleep.
After a few seconds passed with no reply, Mei nodded in acknowledgement. Can't say I blame you for being wiped out, kiddo. You've had a hell of a few days getting ready for this Tashima audition, and I bet you're a nervous wreck. I know I would be, if I were in your shoes.
Mei turned back toward the stairs, but before she could begin her descent, she noticed a shadow moving through the narrow window in the door on the opposite side of the landing from Ranko's bedroom. The hell? Mei thought, stepping closer to the rooftop access door. Generally, she and her sisters only went out onto the roof to access the little storage shed that Izumi's husband Kaito had built on it the year before, but she saw no reason for anyone to need the spare tables and chairs that had been stored within since the completion of the stage renovation. Must have been a bird or something, she presumed.
* * *
"He could promise the moon, and the stars above. Even if he promised me the world…"
Ranko bent backward until the tip of her red braid dragged the gravel. The extra few millimeters of clearance purchased by the last-instant movement of her head were all that spared her chin from being struck by the oncoming aluminum rod. As it passed her with a warbling wobble, the redhead popped back up to a standing position. Good thing Akane left her headband here, she thought, grateful that the borrowed strip of beige fabric she had tied around her brow had kept her headphones from sliding off of her ears. She'd saved a few hundred yen from each of her paychecks for the last two months to purchase the Sony Walkman clipped to the waistband of her tight-fitting black jeans, and it had rapidly become one of her most prized possessions.
Her right arm flashed to her side, her elbow bent at a right angle. Her stiffened forearm swatted the next oncoming metal pole aside, eliciting a slight wince from the slender athlete. She was glad she'd chosen to wear the fluffy purple sweater she'd been gifted for Christmas by her eldest sister Ayako, as it provided her ever-sensitive skin some measure of padding. Her blocking strike sent the TV antenna, which she had loosened in its rooftop mounting bracket to allow it to rotate in place, spinning back in the opposite direction. Ranko deftly ducked under the antenna rod that came back at her from her left, launching herself upright at lightning speed. Before the next of the device's dozen metal dipoles could reach her shoulder, she fired a series of three quick jabs at the antenna mast with her left fist. Each stopped just a few centimeters short of striking the aluminum pole dead center. The last thing I need is to break it and piss Mama off, she reminded herself.
Her shadowboxing continued to the upbeat leadoff track of Paula Abdul's first album. The American singer, who had gained her entry to stardom mainly through dance and athletics, was well on her way to being Ranko's favorite artist. If she can do it, Ranko thought as she engaged the antenna in a simulated sankyō wristlock, maybe I can, too.
Ranko released the antenna dipole with a hard shove to the right, speeding its rotation dramatically. Taking a half-step backward, she launched her right leg skyward until her foot was above her head before bringing her heel down hard in an axe kick. It made no contact, nor did she intend it to, but she successfully executed it in the narrow space between the two antenna rods that whizzed past her at shoulder level. Crouching down, she planted her hand on the white gravel rooftop, supporting her weight with it as she whipped her left leg into a sweep kick aimed at the center pole of the antenna. The wide kick struck home, but Ranko had pulled back most of its force before impact.
Using the remaining inertia in her upper body, she twisted herself until she was facing the roof and pushed herself back to her feet. She assumed a taekwondo back stance, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet just as the dance song blaring directly into her ears came to an end.
"Whaddya think? You had enough?!" Ranko dropped out of her stance with a smile, striding over to the antenna. "Not exactly a wing chun dummy, but it works in a pinch." She leaned on the still-quivering pole, reaching down and re-tightening the bolt holding the antenna in its mounting bracket with her fingers as best she could.
Alright, the martial artist-turned-songstress thought as she wiped the sweat from her brow with the sleeve of her sweater. That's about enough warmup, I think. Time to get serious. She reached down for the plastic device clipped to her waistband, pressing in the fast forward button with a satisfying mechanical clunk. A quiet whir began emanating from the cassette player as it wound the tape, and Ranko let it run for just a few seconds before pressing play.
"... lookin' at him… oh, he's lookin' at me…"
Nodding, Ranko hopped a few times on her toes to keep her heart rate up. Close enough, she thought as she let the final chorus of the album's second track play through. Okay, she decided as her headphones fell silent. Here we go.
As soon as the beat of the third track began with a loud synthesizer riff, Ranko became a blur of motion. She stepped back as far as she could in one move, extending her leg out to the left as she moved. A corresponding forward step swayed her body to the right, almost in place, her back leg sweeping behind her in a fluid slide. She was half-crouched as she repeated the pattern again and again, the undulating motion of her body never slowing for an instant. While she had learned an untold number of dance steps in her brief time as the mistress of the Phoenix's stage, the deadly choreography of the ginga had been burned into her muscle memory for far longer.
"Baby, seems we never, ever agree-ee!"
The sound of Paula Abdul's mezzo-soprano was Ranko's cue to unleash the true power of the ginga. While it wasn't a perfect analogue to the traditional drum music used to set the rhythm for capoeira training, the beat of Opposites Attract was close enough to the correct tempo to do the job. Using the momentum built from her constant rocking dance, she whipped her leg across her body at shoulder level in a flawless meia-lua de frente crescent kick. Having already leaned her torso hard to the side to gain extra height on her kick, she let the inertia carry her further down toward the rooftop below. She caught herself on her hands, pulling herself into a handstand and firing her legs forward one after the other. Lowering her right leg out of the chicote kick,she rolled her wrist over and performed an almost-cartwheel macaquino flip to return to her feet.
I really need to brush up on capoeira, Ranko thought as her leg whipped through the air in a wide armada kick, letting it flow into another fluid cartwheel. It emphasizes speed and motion, kicks over punches, and dodging over blocking, so it's way better for me than stuff like kung fu now that it's harder for me to take a hit. Besides, it's intimidating to look at, so it might help end some fights before they start.
Throwing a taekwondo tornado kick to build her initial momentum, she leapt off of her standing leg and inverted her body in mid-air. Ranko extended both of her legs in a V shape, twisting her hips and driving her feet forward in a powerful parafuso kick. Her toes had barely touched the roof before she propelled herself upward again, twisting her body twice in the air before kicking her legs out with a perfectly-executed envergado. The angular momentum carried her backward as her left foot touched the rooftop, forming the first retreating step of a new rhythmic ginga. The young martial artist took just two more rocking steps before starting to spin into another roundhouse. She aborted it abruptly at the sound of cracking glass.
"Ranko?! Holy shit, girl!"
Ranko finished rotating her body until she faced the door leading back to the second-floor landing of the Phoenix. There, she found Mei standing in the open doorway, a puddle of Coke and the two halves of a shatterproof pilsner glass at her feet. The blue-haired girl's jaw hung slack in shock.
Well, fuck. I guess the jig is up, Ranko thought, doing her best to hide a wince. She pulled her headphones down off of her ears, letting the music continue to play from the little speakers that dangled from the back of her neck. "Uhhh, hey, Mei." She chuckled nervously, brushing her sweat-slick braid out of her eyes. "G'mornin'. What are you doin' here so early?!"
Mei gestured over her shoulder with her thumb, back toward the bar's interior. "I… umm… I thought I'd surprise you and bring you some donuts for breakfast. I wasn't expecting to find you going all, full ninja up here. I mean, I've seen you fight, and I knew you were really good, but that… that was a whole 'nother level, Ranko! I've never seen a human being move like that before, not even in the Olympics!"
Shrugging, Ranko leaned on one of the bar's large commercial air conditioning units. "It's called capoeira. It's a Brazilian fighting style. Well, African too, I guess. It's complicated."
"Wait a minute…" Mei held up a hesitant index finger, a puzzled expression on her face. "When you beat up those guys in the alley, back when you first got here, you told me that was karate you were doing."
Ranko bobbed her head in assent. "Yeah, it was - at least, if I remember right. So?"
Shaking her head hard enough to jostle her twin pigtails over her shoulders, Mei reached up to rub her temples. "I'm so confused. That's not the same thing as kung fu, right? 'Cause that's what you called it when you stopped Mikado before Christmas."
Laughing, Ranko shook her head and stepped closer to her sister. "Oh, okay. I see where you're getting a little mixed up. Yeah. Karate, kung fu, and capoeira are all distinct martial arts."
"Wooow. You know multiple martial arts?! What about that one Akane said she does? That… whatever-you-want-fu, or whatever she called it?" Mei scratched her head, squinting in the early morning sun. "She was telling me about it after closing one night, but…" The shorter girl blushed, shrugging her shoulders. "... admittedly, I was pretty drunk, and I don't really remember."
An actual giggle poured forth from Ranko's lips, and she doubled over slightly. "Whatever-you-want-fu?! Oh, my gods, Akane's going to die when I tell her that!" Sensei Akane Tendo, master of the School of Whatever-you-want-fu. She clapped her sister on the shoulder reassuringly, sensing the embarrassment in the elder girl's eyes. "It's called Anything-Goes Martial Arts. And yeah, I think it's fair to say I know that one a little bit. But, it's way different than all the other ones. It's not like what you think."
Not waiting for the question clearly forming in Mei's eyes to make it to her lips, the redhead continued. "So, here's the thing about martial arts. All of them have their uses. Some are good for defense, some are better for offense. Some are designed to emphasize physical strength, and others focus on speed and agility. They're all purpose-built to achieve something specific. But, that means they all have their weaknesses, too. Things they aren't so good at. For example, judo is all about up-close grappling, and if you're rolling around on the ground with somebody, it'll save your butt every time. But if they've got a weapon and have a reach advantage, you're pretty much screwed. You'll never get close enough to them to use anything you know.
"So, what Anything-Goes Martial Arts does is focus on how to connect different styles. We master as many techniques, from as many unique styles, as we possibly can, and then we figure out how to make them work together. By blending all these different arts, we can learn when and how to use the techniques from each to take advantage of their strengths. When we're in a situation where their weaknesses would come up, we just switch to moves from a different style that's a better fit for it. That way, whatever happens in a fight, you're ready for it."
With a slow, awed nod of understanding, Mei reached behind herself and pulled the roof access door closed. "So, how many different martial arts do you know?! Six?Eight?!"
Smirking confidently despite her best effort to hide it, Ranko turned her eyes down to her sneakers. If you treat all the different forms of kung fu and stuff as distinct, it's actually around thirty, Mei. When she was relatively certain she could mask her brash smile enough, she looked back up at her sister. "Something like that, yeah. I lost count. Like I said, after a while, you sorta stop thinking of them as separate, and it's just one big collection of moves and skills. It's kinda like a mix tape, where the individual bands that made the songs don't matter as much as the vibe you're creating by putting them all together."
"It's just…" Mei took a deep breath, releasing it slowly through her mouth. "... incredible. Whoever came up with that idea must've been an absolute freakin' genius!"
Yeah, Ranko thought darkly, grimacing at the memories that Mei's statement had surfaced. If you're into getting molested every day at the dinner table, he's your guy for sure. Ain't nobody better. Ranko could not summon an answer that would not prompt her sister to ask questions she had no interest whatsoever in answering, so she gave none at all.
With an overwhelmed sigh, Mei let herself fall back until her backside made contact with the steel door. "I wish I could do some of that stuff. It must be amazing, knowing you're a total fucking badass and nobody can ever beat you."
The redhead's eyes fell back to her shoes, and she bit her lip hard to keep it from quivering. Yeah, Mei. It was, once. At least, until it was stolen from me. Stupid Amazon witch. Her self-pity was interrupted by a stinging sensation on the underside of her left wrist, which immediately began to itch and burn. "Oww!" Ranko slid her finger under the silver dragon bracelet coiled around her arm, scratching the small welt forming around the ant bite she had sustained.
Looking down at the bracelet, though, the anguish in her heart began to fade. While, yes, she had lost the sense of invincibility she had once enjoyed, what she had gained in its place was so much more valuable to her. I have a real home now. A family. Akane. Maybe, if I'm really lucky, even a chance at a career that doesn't involve gettin' punched in the face.
She smiled broadly, stroking the etching of the dragon with her fingers as if it were a favorite pet. I am wanted. I have worth. I have people who care about me. And I'll take that fucking trade any day.
"Can I tell ya somethin', Mei? Something really important?"
Closing her eyes sincerely, Mei nodded her head. "Always, Ranko. We're always here for you. You should know that by now. At least, I hope you do."
Ranko stepped forward slowly. "I've learned from more martial arts masters than I can even remember the names of. I did it for most of my life. And, ya know who it was that really made me believe I was indestructible?" She took another step, resting her hand gently just to the left of Mei's sternum, over her heart. "You did. You, and the girls, and Mama. All those other guys? They taught me how to avoid getting hit for as long as possible, but it's gonna happen eventually no matter how good you are, and you're gonna get knocked down."
The young woman offered her sister and benefactor a soft, sincere smile. "But after all the dojos and all the temples I've trained in over the years never bothered, it was a dive bar by the harbor that took the time to teach me how to get back up again."
Mei smiled softly, patting the back of Ranko's hand on her chest. "Yeah, that's definitely a thing we do around here, and I'm so glad you're finally starting to get it. It feels like you're actually starting to come to terms with the fact that you're family, and you don't have to keep trying so hard to impress us."
With a heavy scoff, Ranko pulled her hand back, reaching down and stopping her cassette player. "I don't know about all that. Like I told ya, I've pretty much spent my whole life being told I'm not good enough, and so it's really tough for me to not feel like I gotta prove myself all the time. Like, this whole thing with Tashima. I know what all of you've said about it, but it's like… you all have this idea that I'm so great, and I really hope you're right. But what if I'm not good enough? What if he shows up and listens to me for two songs and says, this girl's a waste of time? You're all gonna be so disappointed. Maybe even more than I will be, and that's saying something, because… gods help me, I'm actually starting to get my hopes up that this might be real."
Mei sighed quietly. "Ranko, honey… no. We're going to be disappointed for you, because no matter how hard you've tried to fight it, we can see how much you want this. We want it for you, because we want you to be happy. But remember, the day Mama asked you to stay, none of us had ever heard you sing yet. So, I think it's fair to say that you being a singing superstar was never a condition of us loving you or being proud of you." She stepped forward, brushing a few loose strands of sweat-dampened red hair out of her sister's face. "The only thing we will ever ask you to be… is you."
"And what if I don't know what that is?" Ranko asked, a bit sadly.
"None of us do, really. We all figure it out as we go, a little bit every day." Mei grinned. "Some days, better than others."
Ranko nodded. "I guess." She sighed quietly. "Well, I was just about done working out, so let me go get cleaned up real quick, and we can start prep for the day, I suppose."
Mei bit her lip nervously. "Actually, before you do, I wanted to ask you something. A favor. If it's okay. You're welcome to say no if you want."
"Sure." Ranko slipped her hands into the pockets of her black jeans, though they barely fit in up to the first knuckles of her slender fingers. "Whatcha need?"
The blue-haired woman exhaled slowly. "Like I said… what you can do, with this fighting stuff… it's amazing. You've saved my butt with it twice, just in the last few months."
Ranko shrugged. "Eh. I don't do as much of it anymore, for… a lot of reasons, but there's no point knowing how to do it if you don't use it when people you care about are in trouble."
"That's the thing," Mei continued. "You protected me, and I'll always be grateful for it, but… you're not gonna be there every minute of every day. And I didn't like how helpless I felt in those moments. So, I was wondering…" She swallowed hard. "... if you'd be willing to show me a few things? Not a lot; I know I'm never going to be doing all those crazy flip kicks and stuff like you do. Just enough that I can take care of myself if I ever have to, and you're not there to save me."
Me? Teach her?! Ranko emitted a quiet sigh. I didn't even want them to know I had training, but I guess that secret is all the way out now. But, the only way I know how to teach is Pop's way, and it's hard and it's cruel. I couldn't ever do that to Mei. Nobody should ever have to go through that. She'd be better off learning from Akane. After all, Akane is a sensei for real now. Her eyes widened with a sudden realization. But… Akane only won that fight because I taught her the Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire technique, and I was able to do that without torturing her like the Amazons did to me. Akane even said I was a good teacher. Maybe…
"Alright," Ranko said. "I've never really trained someone before, but I'll try. On one condition." She held up her index finger for emphasis.
Mei smiled enthusiastically. "Really?! Thanks, Ranko! Whatever you want, you got it! Just say the word."
Giggling, Ranko reached forward, giving her sister a loose hug to avoid an unnecessary amount of contact with her sweat-drenched clothes. "Before we get started, I'm gonna need one of those donuts you brought, and it better be chocolate."