Alright, Akane thought as she fretfully watched her wife finish the second song in her set list from the shadows shrouding the wings of the stage. The start of that one was a little rough, but by the end, she seemed like she managed to get herself together a little bit. You can do it, Ranko. I'm so proud of you, baby. She pursed her lips solemnly, glancing down at her feet for a moment. I'd bet Ken is, too.
Ranko strode quickly across the stage, wearing a more genuine smile than she had previously in the quite unorthodox beginning to the final performance of the Wildfire Tour. She waved enthusiastically to the crowd, and the audience, for its part, seemed to understand that she needed their encouragement to get through a very difficult show. They were happy to provide it.
Akane had never before felt a building quake from the pressure of sound waves alone, let alone one the size of the Tokyo Dome.
"That's right, Firebirds!" Ranko wagged her finger left and right, grinning playfully to the crowd. "Those guys should know better! I've been tellin' 'em for years, but man, they just don't get the memo, do they, girls?!"
High in the press box behind center field, Genma Saotome nodded his head thoughtfully. Interesting. She seems comfortable now with the idea that men find her attractive. I certainly never expected -
His train of thought cut off as the four-meter video board flashed to life again behind the redheaded bombshell that had once called herself his son. It displayed Ranko, wearing a form-fitting pastel pink tee shirt and a pair of very short ripped denim shorts. Her hair was tied back in a tight ponytail with a matching pink ribbon. She was seated on the floor of a bedroom that looked, to Genma, much like he'd have expected to belong to a teenage girl, from the floral bedspread to the pink-painted walls, to the girls' high school uniform hanging in the open closet. Two other girls, which Genma assumed to be her backup dancers, though he could not see their faces well from across the stadium, were sitting on the queen-sized bed, and all three girls had started sifting through pictures of young boys.
"The thing is… there was one guy in my past, and, man, did he give me a hard time! I wanted to love him so bad! And I tried, you guys. I really did. For years!"
Genma sat back in his chair, a puzzled expression clouding his face. According to Tendo, she reconnected with Akane just a few months after she left home. So, how could she have…
"It's just…" Ranko continued, shrugging her shoulders. "... everything about him was gross, and it just made my skin crawl most of the time." While the Ranko on the video screen sifted through more photos, the one on the stage sighed quietly, trying to force her intrusive thoughts to retreat to the back of her mind. Another lie. Another misdirection. Another smokescreen, she fretted.
She took a long, slow breath, closing her eyes and thinking back to a conversation she'd had with Ken Hirata shortly after the debut of Sneak. It was the day Ken had entrusted her with his own deepest secret: that he, too, was gay.
"The fantasy is what sells, and so, to keep the engine running, you need to keep up the illusion. You've gotta sell it. To everybody. I know it's hard, and I know it's not fair, but it's reality," he had said.
She bit her lip hard, nodding softly in response to her friend's onetime advice. I know, Ken. You're right. I hear you. You always were smarter than me. Thanks, buddy. Fuck, I wish you were here to slap some sense into me tonight, because this shit is tough. She glared briefly down at the fat man on her right in the front row. Especially with that son of a bitch sitting there smirking up at me the whole time.
Ranko shook her head hard, her ponytail flopping over the shoulder of her blood-red leather jacket. Get out of your own head, Ranko. It's not helping anybody. She glanced back at the video board, reminding herself of her place in the performance and how long she had left to speak and set up the song before her musical cue began. Fuck. Four seconds. Gotta dial it in.
"Anyway," she said, shrugging her shoulders again. "I wrote this song for him." Ranko raised her hand, waving toward herself as if inviting someone in the back third of the audience members seated at field level to join her on stage. She cupped her hand to her cheek next to her mouth, pantomiming that she was sharing a secret with the unseen someone without wanting everyone else in the stadium to overhear.
But hear they did, because as soon as Crash's cherry red electric guitar revved to life behind her, the words that came out of her mouth were not sung, so much as they were roared.
"HEY, JERK! I'm talking to YOU!"
Ranko pointed out at a random point in the crowd with two fingers, jabbing them forward forcefully as if she was trying to put out someone's eye. "I'm still getting over all the shit YOU put me through!"
No matter how bad things feel right now, I've just gotta remember how much worse they used to be. How grateful I am now, to be with Mom and the girls, and with Akane, even if it has to stay a secret, she reminded herself. How good it is to get to wake up every day and be Ranko Tendo, even with all the problems it comes with sometimes.
"And still, it's totally clear," she sang, casually brushing her hands down the front of her leather jacket as if knocking a layer of dust off of it. "I am SO MUCH better off these days, 'cause you're NOT here!"
The redhead rushed across the stage at nearly a full sprint, leaping forward as she reached its midpoint and thrusting her fist in the air. "At last, I feel like I'm free!" came her musical declaration, however disingenuous the lyric felt in the moment. "Dropped your dead weight from my neck, and I can just be… me!"
Ranko reached up to her temple, gently bopping the side of her head with her palm as if trying to knock a stubborn bit of water loose from her ear after swimming. "Cant wait to see how far I can go-o-o-o… without your constant voice inside my head, tellin' me NO!"
Genma frowned, furrowing his brow with an extended sigh of realization. As far as I know, there's only one man in her life that she's ever felt that way about… and it's me.
* * *
A trio of click-whir sounds like those produced by a professional photo camera played through the Tokyo Dome's powerful sound system. With each, a different set of canister lights pointed at the trio of posing women at center stage illuminated, casting their silhouettes larger than life against the dimmed backdrop of the video board. After the third, the display behind the performers switched back to the video of Ranko, Hitomi and Emi shuffling through countless Polaroid photos of high-school aged boys.
"Hey, jerk! There's not much to say!" The rambunctious redhead on the stage shrugged her shoulders, cocking her head to the side nonchalantly as she sang. "I mean, hell, your father never liked me, anyway!"
Pausing in the middle of filling a foam coffee cup at the refreshment counter at the back of the press box, Genma turned toward the glass and the performers beyond. Wait. That doesn't make any sense. She never met my father. He died before Ranma was born. Is it possible that the song's not about me after all? But if not, then… who?! Did she actually date a… man?!
"I knew that we couldn't last," Ranko sang, placing her hand over her heart as she bowed her head. "One of us was always gonna feel like the outcast. This thing was killing us both, so instead of shrinking in your shadow, I chose growth!"
Genma scurried back to his leather office chair, almost forgetting his coffee in his rush. There was an intense curiosity painted across his face. He had to know. Who was it that his child was so glad to be free of, if not him? Considering all the horrible, disrespectful things she's said to me since she lost the Phoenix Pill, he wondered, if there is someone she hates even more than that… what did he do to her to deserve it?!
Ranko tilted her head down, staring straight through Kichirou Kondo's crisp white dress shirt and slightly rumpled suit coat as if she sought to impale the record executive through the chest with the force of her conviction alone.
"I'm PROUD of myself, because…" Ranko stomped the toes of her black boot down hard on the stage floor, backing off at the last instant in order to avoid snapping off its heel when it struck the platform.
"THE GIRL I AM IS SO MUCH STRONGER THAN THE GHOST I WAS!"
Please, boy, the aging martial artist in the press box thought. Stronger? The two times we've fought since you left, you had to hide behind Akane and… that bar woman. But… His jaw fell slightly slack. Do you really think…
Ranko strode back to rejoin Hitomi and Emi at center stage. "I made my choice," she sang. What the performance lacked in her usual flirty choreography, it made up for in raw emotion. There would be time enough for dancing, she determined, when more bubblegum fare like Ring, Ring, Ring and B-O-U-N-C-E were played. At that moment, what she needed was power, and she was determined to give it to herself, by her own force of will if necessary.
"Might've damn near broke my spirit, but I found my voice! You had your turn! Hey, jerk! I am the STAR now!"
She whirled on her toes to face the crowd, throwing her arms in the air. As she did, the stage exploded in red, orange and yellow light, as if the whole of it had just been engulfed in an inferno. "And, all you can do is watch! Me! BURN!"
Wait a minute! The girl I am?! Is she talking about… since the Phoenix Pill was lost?! Genma blinked, cocking his head a bit as Ranko launched into another chorus. The things she calls the boy in the chorus. Asshole. Pervert. Creep. Violent. Rude. Those are all things Akane used to say about… Ranma! Is it possible that the person she is singing about is… herself?!
"I knew, right from the start…" Ranko sang, clasping her hands together between her breasts. "... that it was gonna hurt like hell to cut you out of my heart."
The redhead shrugged, play-acting a heavy sigh for the benefit of the crowd. There was a deep sadness in her eyes, and Genma could not tell if it was sincere or part of the act.
"I did… what I had to do. Didn't like the girl I was when I was still with you! So, I… put my brave face on…"
The singer waved her hand in front of her face, as if wiping away tears. When her face emerged from behind it, the sadness in her eyes was gone, and a bright, contented smile was painted across her cheeks. "... and, it gets easier for me every day that you're gone!"
"Hey, buddy, would you…"
"Not now!" Genma growled, not even diverting his eyes from the stage for long enough to glare at the portly man who sought his attention.
Sheesh, the reporter thought with a roll of his eyes as he slumped back into his seat. All I wanted was to ask him to move his leg so I could get out to go to the bathroom. Freaking asshole.
"I admit… that from time to time…" Ranko sang as a heavy, repetitive trio of insistent thumps rumbled through the arena. "... I can still feel you bangin' on the back door of my mind."
The singer's father cracked a slight smile. So, there's still hope, then.
Ranko shook her head side to side, waving her hand dismissively. "And, yeah, I guess that is why… I wrote this song, so once and for all, I can say goodbye! The an…swe-er's NO!"
Hitomi and Emi both joined her as she defiantly shouted her refusal to consider a reconciliation with the unnamed subject of the song.
"Hey, jerk! I've got what I want, and it's time for me to LET! YOU! GO!"
Well, shit, Genma thought with an exasperated sigh, slumping back in his chair. His move made way for the impatient reporter to his right, who rocketed out of his seat and hurried into the aisle toward the door.
"You're an asshole! You're a pervert! You're a heartless creep! Tell me what about all that I should've wanted to keep! You are violent, and angry, and you're always rude. And, you wonder why I never even miss you, dude?!"
Ranko shook her head hard, grunting quietly under her breath. She stepped to the side, trying to make the tic appear as if it had been part of the choreography. Stop it, she thought. Focus.
"Now, I'm happy! And I'm thriving! Having so much fun!" Ranko sang, trying to force a grin back onto her face. "All I had to do was say that you and me are DONE! So, yeah! It's true!"
Ranko pointed out with two fingers, aiming at no one in particular in the crowd. She planted her feet firmly, as if set to receive a charge. Hitomi and Emi rushed to her sides.
"Hey, jerk! I'm NEVER going back to BEIN' JERKED AROUND BY YOU!"
Shit, Crash thought, watching as Hitomi and Emi wrapped their arms around Ranko. A trio of white strobe flashes accompanied the loud click-whir audio sample of a professional camera. The stage lights had barely reilluminated before his best friend disappeared again, this time in a hurricane of black and white confetti that belched forth from a set of air cannons at the front of the stage. You're supposed to sing it, Ranko. Not scream it. He sighed quietly. She's barely holding it together. His eyes rose to the domed ceiling of the Tokyo Dome, and for a moment, he wished it would vanish so he could see the stars. I think we all are tonight, Ken. But we're trying our damnedest for you, little bro.
"Whoo-wee!" Ito chuckled, turning to grin up at his daughter. It was all he could do to speak loudly enough to be heard over the roar of the crowd behind him. "I'd hate to be whoever pissed her off!"
Hana managed a thin smile of her own despite not turning to look down at the old man in the wheelchair. "Trust me, Papa, when I tell you… you have no idea."
"Whaddya think, Firebirds?!" Ranko forced another smile onto her lips. "Three songs in, and you've already heard two from our new album, Behind Bars. It's almost done, and it'll be coming early next year…" Her eyes turned to her right, barely concealing her disdain as she beheld Kichirou Kondo. "... from Yokai Records."
At least, if I don't kill that son of a bitch first, she thought, but decided it better not to say that part out loud.
Ranko nodded sternly, as if trying to talk herself into something in her mind. She turned her head left, waving excitedly to her high school friend Kumiko. Making eye contact with her gave her something to smile about again, and she was grateful for it. At the moment, she needed all the help she could get.
"Ya know," she said, striding across the stage toward the left. "It's still crazy to me. We did this whole tour. Thirty-five shows, more than a dozen countries, and it's all over after tonight. But sometimes, I still can't believe I'm even standing here. I mean, it was barely three years ago now, I was homeless. I was sleeping in that little park by the Minato train station, or inside on one of the benches when it was too cold, eating out of vending machines when I could scrape together enough money for a rice ball or something. I didn't have any friends, didn't have any family… I was entirely freaking alone in the world."
You chose that, boy, Genma thought, growling under his breath. You ran. No one made you leave.
"I never asked for help, even though I probably should've," Ranko continued, "... but, I got some anyway. I wandered into a little bar, just a few kilometers from where I'm standing right now, and applied for a job. And what I found instead… was hope. I found a family. My mom, Hana, and my sisters: Ayako, Yui, Izumi, and Mei… they pulled me out of the trash and showed me there was another way to live. A better way."
She extended her arm, turning her eyes toward the occupants of the first row. One of the first genuine smiles Hana had seen all night on her youngest daughter's face formed as the redhead gestured to the five women who had saved her life. "Firebirds… they are all here with us tonight. And I just wanna say, in front of all o'everybody and the whole world, how much I love and appreciate them." Ranko blew a kiss down to her mother as the building around her quaked with cheers and applause.
When Hana returned the gesture, the redhead hopped up in the air, reaching high overhead and clasping her fist as if catching an errant throw. She winked playfully at Hana as she landed. "And ya know, that little bar, it has a name. It's called the Phoenix. And that means that all of us girls that call it home – all of us who crawled through the doors of that place looking for a meal or a paycheck and found a family instead – we're Phoenixes, too. And if there's one thing a Phoenix knows how to do… it's rise!"
Ranko threw her fist in the air as the crowd responded, first with a disorganized but deafening cheer, and then coalescing into a single chanted word: "RISE! RISE! RISE!"
"Sometimes, I think about those days. When I was alone. When I first met my family. When Mei all but dragged a scared-shitless seventeen-year-old girl up on stage to sing karaoke for a couple hundred strangers in a language she didn't even speak. When, a few months after that, I scored a gig at this little shithole of a joint called the Tashima Talent Agency."
Her eyes darted to her right, and a defiant smirk crossed her lips. "The guy that ran that place treated me like crap. Let's just say… it didn't work out too good for him. I was only there for a couple of weeks as a result, but while I was, I met these six absolutely goofy little fuckers. You might have heard of them. Their names are Hitomi, Emi, Crash, Shinji, Kaz…" Ranko's head drooped with sadness, and her voice lost all of its mirthful edge. "...and Ken."
"She's going a little long with this, isn't she?" Norio frowned, peeking out at the songstress from behind the curtain. "She's gonna get us off schedule."
Ranko smiled wistfully, nodding along with the audience as they cheered for her bandmates. "They asked me to join their band, and for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why. We did a couple gigs… small stuff. A market day in the park here, some rich guy's birthday party there, always doing cover songs and barely making enough between us to cover the beer and the gas in Shin's truck. We were literally a garage band; we practiced in Shinji's uncle's repair shop. The first stage I shared with the Dapper Dragons was a red area rug that had more oil in it than friggin' Saudi Arabia. It had a pattern on it, but if you gave me all the money in the world, I couldn't have told you what it was."
In the control booth high above center field, Ariel sighed heavily. He started to reach for the button to unmute his headset, but his companion had activated his first.
"Yeah, Nori. She is. Now, ask me if I care!" Masa's voice was more agitated than Ariel could ever remember it being. "That girl's holding herself together with duct tape and paper clips up there right now, and she's still trying to give these people a good show. If she needs a minute, we give her a damned minute!"
Ariel nodded appreciatively in Masa's direction. He had not relished the idea of having to cut Ranko's reminiscing short.
Ranko chuckled softly at her own comment, shaking her head. Talk about night and day. "Well, I… I ended up in the hospital. The details aren't important; let's just say, I had a really crappy day. When I got out, I showed up for the next band practice, and that's when I met Jake, and he told me all about his partner back in Australia, Zoe. And the drums were under this big white sheet, like they were trying to be a ghost for Halloween. Anyway, the guys had gotten a hold of this notebook of mine. I found out later…" She smirked down at the seat to the right of her grandfather's wheelchair. "... and still owe her an asskicking for it, I might add… that my sister Yui gave it to them while I was in the hospital. It had this really rough poem I wrote, when I was still just getting started learning English, in it. And it was called Rise."
The young singer smiled as the crowd cheered again for the title of her first hit, anticipating they were about to hear it performed live. They were correct - but Ranko had more to say first. "Anyway, the guys helped me clean up the words, and surprised me with some music they wrote to go with them. Some of you might've even heard it before," Ranko said with a thin hint of a smile. "But, they had another surprise for me that day. Ken pulled that sheet off of the drums, and right there on the front of the bass can was my name, in bright-ass pink spray paint. The characters were so big that all five didn't fit. It just said R-A-N-K, and then the O was like, smaller, and down underneath a little bit. But Ken… man, he was so proud of that. I asked him, 'Dude, did you have to make it so big?!' And you know what he said?"
She bit her lip, surveying the more than forty thousand faces staring up at her on that Christmas night. "He said… 'one day, Ranko, we're gonna play the Tokyo Dome, and when we do, you want the folks all the way in the back to be able to see it so they know what to scream, don'tcha?'" Her voice quavered slightly with emotion as she beheld her friend's prediction made real in front of her eyes.
The crowd seemed to understand the assignment, and their voices rose as one. "RAN-KO! RAN-KO! RAN-KO!" they chanted, but Ranko waved her hands downward toward the stage floor to quell them.
"Gods…" Ranko bit her lip, turning her eyes to the convex roof of the domed stadium. "What I'd give if he could have been here tonight to see this. To see all of you. We made it, Ken. We're here, just like we dreamed about. Sold out, and everything!" She reached up with an extended finger, scooping a tear out of the corner of her eye before it had a chance to damage her makeup.
She stared upward for a long few seconds, sighing as her gaze returned to her fans. "So, I want to take you all back to the beginning, and sing that song for you. But I'm gonna do it a little bit different." Ranko took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly in an effort to get her emotions back under control. It was only minimally successful. "There's an alternate version of Rise: one I've only performed on stage once before, on another really tough night. It's really hard for me to get through it, because it gets pretty emotional for me. But the guys and I talked about it, and I'm gonna try and sing it tonight. For Ken."
"Alright," Ariel said, letting out a deep breath and reaching for the audio controls. "Here we go."
"A-a-lone… with no place left that you call home…"
* * *
"You ignite, and you RISE!"
Ranko jumped as high as she could, thrusting her right fist upward as a torrent of flame encircled her. She landed in a crouch, quickly ensuring that she had hit her mark. It was critical, because half a heartbeat later, the floor beneath her feet gave way and she plummeted more than two meters down into the dark understage. A pair of strong arms caught her from behind, ensuring that she was steady on her feet before releasing her waist.
Ranko turned, and a surprised hint of a smile crossed her lips. "Well,you'renot Sanyo."
Akane nodded, blushing slightly in the dark. "Yeah, well, if somebody was gonna have to watch you get undressed, I thought I'd take one for the team and volunteer."
"You must be heartbroken," Ranko said sardonically as she pulled off her leather jacket. "How's Ryo?" she asked, though she suspected she did not want the answer.
The singer's wife sighed, shaking her head slightly. "Mostly numb, I think. He's been quiet. Kaz and I have been keeping an eye on him. We're gonna make sure he's okay. But I'm more worried about you right now.You seem like you're struggling out there."
The porcelain veneer of Ranko's resolve cracked, and her face scrunched up as she started to cry. "I shouldn't have done this tonight. I should've let them cancel the show. I can't get it out of my head, Akane."
Akane rushed forward, pulling the smaller girl into a tight hug. "I know, princess. I know. But you're doing great. They can tell you're having a hard time, but I'm sure they understand. Anyone would be struggling. I'm so proud of you, and I know Ken is, too. C'mon, baby. You gotta pull yourself together now."
"It's not just that…" Ranko mewled, sniffling as Akane released her from the hug. "Just… seeing that look in Ryo's eyes, knowing that Ken died and he wasn't there. It's hollowing him out. He was a world away, because nobody knew they were together. I just keep thinking about that night in Thailand. If Lance hadn't seen that guy mess with my drink… that could have been you." She shuddered as she pulled her headset off, setting it aside so she could begin to remove her sparkly black shirt. "I just keep getting these random flashes in my mind of you falling on your knees, crying, screaming at Crash… it won't stop, Akane. I don't know how to make it stop."
Akane sighed heavily. She'd thought it more than once as well, but had thought better of it than to bring it up while Ranko and her friends still had to focus on the show. "But it wasn't me. I'm here, and you're here. We're safe, and Lance is always gonna be with you whenever I can't be, to make sure you stay that way. And, besides, you'll be home for a while after this. Everything's gonna be okay, Ranko. I promise."
Ranko growled angrily, hurling one of her black boots a few meters into the darkness after pulling it off of her foot. "And then that fat fucker Kondo, just sitting there smirking up at me, like he won something. It's like he's just trying to get me off my game. I just wanna jump down there in the middle of a song and shove Shin's saxophone up his asshole sideways. I keep thinking about the things he said to me the other night, and how he tried to…"
Again, Akane sighed, rubbing her partner's back as the singer pulled off her red leather pants. "I know. You've got a secret, and he knows it - or at least, he's pretty sure he does. And, in his mind, that gives him power over you."
"How do I stop it?" Ranko asked, throwing a shimmering silver cocktail dress over her head and beginning to pull it into place around her torso.
"I don't know," Akane answered sadly. "Nabiki's been going over all the paperwork the whole time you've been gone, trying to find something, anything, we can use to get you out of this mess. For now, you've gotta do like Amaya said. Get through tonight, and we'll worry about tomorrow when tomorrow comes. That's especially important now, with as upset as you are."
Ranko nodded, pulling a heavy shoe with a translucent heel onto her left foot. It sloshed a bit as the weight of the alcohol filling the hollow heel shifted when the shoe was turned on its side. "I'm trying. It's really hard." She let out a deflated sigh, rising to her feet. "Some fuckin' Christmas, huh?"
Akane shook her head, reaching out and taking her wife's hand. "Do you honestly think I'm worried about that? You came home to me. That's all the Christmas I need. So, here's what we're gonna do. You're gonna get back up there, and you're gonna sing your heart out for a few more songs. When you're done, I'm gonna bring you home, we are going to get in some warm pajamas, and I'm just going to hold you all night long. We don't even have to stay at the bar for dinner if you don't feel up to it. I'm sure your moms and everybody would more than understand. We're all gonna get you through this together, I promise. No matter what else happens tonight."
The singer nodded slowly, pulling her headset back on over her head. "Is my makeup okay?" she all but whimpered.
With a small blush and a sad smile, Akane bobbed her head. "You've never looked more beautiful."
"Alright, I guess." Ranko reached down under her skirt, switching the battery pack clipped to the white nylon shorts she wore under her dress back on. "I'm ready," she announced to Ariel in the control booth, though she never broke eye contact with Akane.
* * *
"You took me out slo-o-ow dancin', whoa-ho-ho, bought me a long white ro-o-o-ose…"
Ranko blushed, playing with the hem of her sparkly silver dress as she sang.
"I never thought I would see ya gettin' down on one knee! I never thought you'd prop-o-o-ose!"
I'm honestly impressed, Genma mused as he watched the two women behind Ranko dancing with their male partners. She incorporated capoeira techniques into the choreography. I'm not sure what the style she blended it with is, but it's good to see she hasn't forgotten everything I taught her.
"Woo!" Ranko screeched as she was pulled back into a martial arts-infused jitterbug by Sanyo and Utaru, spinning around thrice on her heels. As Shiori had taught her ages ago in her first month of high school cheerleading practice, she chose a fixed point in the crowd to focus on as she whirled in place to combat the potential for vertigo. With every rotation, every snap of her head around to quickly relocate the face of Kichirou Kondo in the front row, the hatred evident in her eyes seemed to double.
"Don't think my JOB will like it! No, no, no!" she sang, staring right at the slovenly executive.
The redhead played with her sequined cocktail dress again as she stalked away from Kondo toward the opposite end of the stage, where her family sat.
"I can't afford a nice dre-e-e-ess! My head was screamin' out WAIT! But, I did NOT hesitate when I answered you YES!"
With a loud poof, the bank of confetti cannons set up near the front of the stage blanketed the first two rows of the audience in shimmering strips of paper. The singer laughed loudly into her microphone as she glimpsed a very irritated-looking Kichirou Kondo plucking scraps of it out of his gel-slicked black hair.
"Whoa, it was just this o-o-uh-AH-uh-uh-nce… but baby, gods, it's been nice!" Ranko sang, flashing the quickest of smiles back at the wings of the stage as she made her way back to its center.
"Could you imagine the scandal?! I don't think I could handle goin' through it all twice!"
The singer's shoulders drooped slightly. Could you imagine the scandal if they knew we did it once, let alone twice, Akane?
Her voice lost much of its energy as she continued the final chorus, becoming softer, more distant, and more pensive.
"I mean, if I'm bein' on the level, that's the thing about forever… you don't get another one when it ends."
Ranko stole a glance down at the diamond solitaire sparkling on her left hand. She visibly shuddered.
"How COULD you?! You promised me you'd protect her, Crash!" Akane's imagined voice pierced through Ranko's conscious thoughts again. In the intrusive scene burning its way through her mind like a hurricane of fire, her wife wore the same outfit she had on backstage, and was pounding on Crash's chest with her fist as she sobbed. "I TRUSTED you with her! And, now, I'll never get to…"
Ranko shook her head hard, as if trying to expel the images from her imagination through her ears. She hoped that the denial in the lyrics was enough to mask the gesture as a part of her choreography.
"Oh, but it was just this once, and we're not doing this again."
Hitomi rushed up to join Ranko and Emi at center stage, but stopped short when she saw the broken vacancy in Ranko's eyes.
The redhead passed both girls by, turning her back to the audience and walking despondently back toward the drum set at the rear edge of the stage.
Emi made eye contact with her partner, giving her a shrug. As Ranko had missed her cue and they had been left to complete the song on their own, the two backup singers had little choice but to do so.
"Na-na, na-na-na, NA! Na, na-na, na-na-na-a-a-ah!"
After flicking the switch to disconnect the performer's microphones from the house audio mix, Ariel flopped back in his chair. "Ranko, what happened there?"
Crash met his friend at center stage, reaching out for her forearm.
"I can't do this. We've gotta stop." Ranko looked balefully up at Crash, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I just can't get centered. I just keep seeing…"
Nodding supportively, Crash wrapped his arm around Ranko's shoulder. "It's okay. You did your best. If you need to call it, we call it."
The singer bit her lip hard, nodding solemnly to her guitarist and friend.
"Alright, Ariel, listen. She's done all she can do. She's spent. Let's shut it down," Crash said, not releasing Ranko from his supportive embrace. The audience, meanwhile, watched with quiet concern as the star of the show was consoled at center stage.
Sensing that the grieving vocalist was in need of support, Kumiko stood from her seat. Okay, Kumi. Ranko always said cheerleaders gotta project. You can do this. Let's fucking go. "RAN-KO! RAN-KO!" she screamed as loudly as she could, nodding encouragingly to Shiori in the seat next to her as she did.
In moments, Shiori and her girlfriend rocketed out of their seats and joined the chant. Shiori turned to face the thousands of seats behind hers in the second row, flapping her arms upward wildly to encourage the capacity crowd to their feet.
"RAN-KO! RAN-KO! RAN-KO! RAN-KO!" the crowd roared, picking up on the directive from the cheerleaders in the front left section of the floor seats.
Ranko turned, clutching onto Crash's arm as she beheld the audience. Nearly every Firebird in the building was on their feet. They're all here for me. They've all got my back. I can't let them down like this.
"Alright, Dragons. Good job tonight. I'll make the ann…"
Heart of a Dragon. Heart of a Dragon. Heart of a Dragon. "Ari, wait." Ranko interrupted her lead technician and turned her gaze back up to meet Crash's, doing her best to portray a confidence she had not yet truly rediscovered. "I can keep going."
"Are you sure?" Crash asked, searching her face for any loose thread with which to pull apart her mask. "There's no shame in it if you have to stop."
Ranko shook her head side to side, unable to lie to her best friend. "No. I'm not." She surveyed the faces of the still-chanting Firebirds again. "But when this night is over, I'm gonna be. One way or the other, when I go to sleep tonight, I'm going to know exactly what I'm capable of when I have to be."
"Alright. I can respect that." Crash lifted his arm off of Ranko's shoulder, reaching down for her hand instead. He flashed her a reassuring smile, holding his grip firm and not letting her turn back toward the crowd until she was able to return it. "C'mon," he said, tugging her wrist gently once he was satisfied. "Ems, grab her guitar?"
The crowd's chanting quelled as the pair walked hand in hand toward the front of the stage, seeming to sense that an announcement was imminent. However, when a blonde backup singer began jogging up behind Ranko carrying an acoustic guitar in the shape of a phoenix in flight, their voices erupted in a raucous celebratory cheer. The show, it seemed, would continue after all.
"Alright, you're hot. Go get 'em, guys!" Ariel said, sighing and slumping back into his chair again.
A deep chuckle came from the older man seated to his right. "Another hour and a half, and then your blood pressure can go back to normal. Promise, kid." Masa reached over, clapping his bespectacled fellow technician on the shoulder firmly.
"Sorry about that, guys. Had something in my eye," Ranko said, laughing nervously in her microphone. "So, this next one's a fun one. How many girls can say they've gotten to stand on stage in the Tokyo Dome, on Christmas, and sing a love duet she wrote with one of the best men she's ever met?" She smiled up at Crash, trying to wordlessly thank him with her eyes.
A love duet? With a man?! Genma sat forward in his seat. And here, Tendo said that if I watched Ranma sing, I would actually understand. What the hell is this?
* * *
"It's done, Miss Akane," Lance said softly, offering her a respectful nod of his head. "Your sister said she'll take care of canceling the meet-and-greet after the show."
Akane chuckled, only glancing back at him for a moment before returning her eyes to the stage through the thin gap in the curtain. "You know, Lance… once you've saved my wife's life at least once, you earn the right to drop the miss. It's just Akane."
"Yes, ma'am," the enormous man said, a quiet laughter in his voice. He started to return to his post, post paused after a step and turned back to Akane. "She's gonna be okay, ya know."
"Hey there, little mermaid! C'mon, crawl out of the sea! It's high time you figured out exactly who you're s'posed to be!" Ranko sang, waving her arms frantically skyward in her continued effort to whip the crowd into a frenzy. After all, no song in the Wildfire Tour set list called for more audience participation than did Self-Rescuing Princess.
"I hope so," Akane said softly, leaning on one of the metal poles supporting the trusses overhead as she watched her partner sing. "I'm worried about her."
Kaz looked up from his coffee, the conversation having caught his attention. He had spent the last fifteen minutes sitting with Ryo on a wooden shipping crate, though neither had spoken in that span of time.
The nervous young woman looked up when a massive, dark-skinned hand clasped her on the shoulder. Lance's grip was firm, but not painful or aggressive. There was a quiet strength in it that made Akane feel, somehow, just a little safer.
"Ya know," Lance said, bowing his head to make eye contact with the much shorter woman. "They say the special forces training I went through is one of the hardest things on Earth a person can do. It's designed to break you over and over again. They just pounded on us, made us run, screamed at us, whatever they had to do that whole first day - but they said they weren't going to stop until somebody gave up and quit, no matter how long it took. And then, when somebody did finally throw in the towel, something like thirty hours in, the instructor said to us, 'That's why they don't let girls into the program. They're not mentally toughenough.'"
Akane looked up, more than a little disdain in her eyes at the suggestion. "Lance, respectfully, why are you telling me this right now?"
"Because I believed him…" Lance replied softly, raising his arm and pointing out at the redheaded girl conducting forty-five thousand Firebirds like an orchestra. "... until I met her." He sighed, feeling no small amount of shame at his admission. "So, maybe not right this minute, and maybe not tonight, but come the mornin', you trust me, miss Akane… that girl's gonna be right as rain."
"When they said, 'once upon a time', that time is now! So, chase your glory! Just pick up the pen, and start again!" Ranko darted across the stage at a near-run, despite the heavy, clunky heels she wore. She glared down again at the fat man in the skinny tie. Of all of the women in the Tokyo Dome who needed to claim the song's feminine power as their own on that Christmas night, perhaps none needed it as much as the singer herself.
"This time, you write the story!" Ranko roared over the crowd. "You have always been your heroine! No damsel in distress! You are a…"
She pointed high into the stands over Kichirou Kondo's head, and the third crowd on that side of the arena responded as they had throughout the song. "STRONG!" they shouted.
Ranko's hand moved to the middle of the crowd, and she smiled as Yui rocketed out of her seat in the front row. "DEFIANT!"yelled her sister, and the majority of the Firebirds standing behind her did as well.
"NON-COMPLIANT!" came a thundering roar from the side of the crowd on stage left as Ranko gestured their way.
She raised her arms skyward, and the entire crowd finished the chorus in one voice: "SELF-RESCUING PRINCESS!"
I have to say, of all the people I would think would write a 'girl power' song… Genma chuckled, watching the crowd interact with his child's performance from the press booth high above the center field section of the stands. Interesting, that she takes the position that she is a girl, but is no weaker for it. He grimaced, remembering his two fights with his best friend's daughter, both losses, as he glanced ruefully down at his mangled left hand. I suppose Akane proved it's possible. And, at the end of the day, the Cat's Tongue likely has more to do with it for Ranma. The boy always held his own in fights, even in that form, before.
"You are a…" Ranko's hand panned the crowd again, prompting the audience to repeat their assignments.
"STRONG!"
"DEFIANT!"
"NON-COMPLIANT!"
"SELF-RESCUING PRINCESS!"
"Sorry? What was that?!" Ranko lifted her hand to her ear, as if straining to hear something quiet and distant. "You are a…"
"STRONG! DEFIANT! NON-COMPLIANT!" "SELF-RESCUING PRINCESS!"
Ranko nodded, lifting her left foot and pulling off her heavy, transparent heel. "When they said, 'once upon a time', that time is now. So, chase your glory." She spoke, rather than sang, making it clear to the audience that the final repetition of the chorus was different.
"Just pick up the pen, and start again." Ranko pointed to herself, molten steel in her eyes. "This time, I write the story."
She smirked, looking down at her feet. Eh, fuck it. It's the last show. She lifted her right foot, pulling off her other shoe. "You have always been your heroine. No damsel in distress. You are a…"
"STRONG! DEFIANT! NON-COMPLIANT!" the crowd bellowed as they had been trained.
"SELF-RESCUING PRINCESS!" Ranko screamed, along with the whole of the audience. She grinned darkly down at the record executive in the front row, hurling both of the crystalline slippers down toward the stage floor as hard as she could.
Ranko strode barefoot to the set of bedroom furniture that her stagehands had wheeled onto the back corner of stage right, plopping down on the bed in her sparkly silver dress. She ran her hand softly over the purple duvet cover, chosen because of its similarity to the one that had adorned her bed in the little apartment above the Phoenix's kitchen. In the darkened front third of stage left, Norio worked to sweep up the shards of glass from her shattered shoes with a pushbroom, finding it more difficult than usual to corral them all owing to the breaking of both heels and the excessive force with which they were hurled to the stage floor.
Behind Ranko, the animation of a dancing princess faded from the video board, and on her face, the defiance had faded from her eyes. She glanced up at the open armoire at the foot of the bed, and the cheap secondhand wedding dress that hung in it. She had dared not travel with the custom-made work of art that she had worn at both of her weddings, and risk harm to Izumi's masterpiece.
"There's a long white dress… hangin' over there," Ranko sang, gesturing to the armoire. The choreography had called for her to be standing in front of the wardrobe, but it had taken longer to change into her silver heels than usual. Her hands were shaking. "My sister's coming in five hours, just to help me do my hair. Don't think I've ever felt… this afraid be-fo-o-o-ore. It's five-seventeen A.M., and I'm still pacin' 'round the floor…"
The video board ignited behind her, displaying a still scene of the east wall of her apartment in the Phoenix, with her actual wedding dress hanging from the curtain rod to keep it off the floor. Ranko glanced up at it, swallowing hard with a sudden rush of panic. Oh, fuck! If anything on the video doesn't match the pictures we gave Kondo from the second wedding…
"I don't have doubts," Ranko sang, though there was a tremor in her voice that betrayed the lie. "Didn't get cold feet. I just have no clue what I'm gonna say on that stage when our eyes meet." She turned her head to look back at the wings of the stage, but Akane was not currently visible through the gap in the curtain at the stage corner.
"I'm out of time," she sang, biting her lip hard in the half-beat rest between lines. Damn it, Ranko! Focus! she thought desperately.
"It's happening to-da-a-a-ay. How am I supposed to concentrate when you're sleeping three steps a… waaaaay?"
As the ballad continued, high above the center field seats, Genma Saotome's brow furrowed. At that distance, he could barely see the young girl in the shimmering silver dress that crooned through her emotions as she strode to center stage, so his eyes were primarily focused on the video board behind her. The four-meter screen displayed another snippet of home movies recorded with a shaky handheld video camera. The brief clip focused on two women Genma did not recognize. He knew little of Western wedding traditions, but from what he'd gleaned from television, he supposed that they were bridesmaids as they wore the same style of formal gown, albeit in different colors. The tall one, a blonde in a yellow dress, giggled with a girl that was small enough by comparison to have been her child. The shorter girl wore a blue gown, but even more striking was the long, cotton-candy cyan hair coiled up in a pair of tight Chinese-style buns on either side of her head.
Genma Saotome did not focus on them; however, but the out-of-focus figure that was barely visible in the frame over the blonde's left shoulder. Despite the blurriness of her appearance, her identity was unmistakable, as her hair was bright red, and her gown a resplendent white. Like the unknown women in the foreground, his child - his daughter, if he could somehow force himself to fathom the concept - was also doubled over, clutching at her torso. But, unlike the others, Ranko was not laughing.
Another figure, an older woman with salt-and-pepper black hair in a gray pantsuit, approached the bride in the background, resting her hand on her shoulder. She was in clearer focus than Ranko, and Genma could clearly make out her face. He recognized her instantly as the woman who had come to his child's defense in the alley behind the Phoenix. The one she had called her mother. There was a mask of concern on her cheeks that no amount of her daughter's cosmetology skill could have covered as she soundlessly addressed the girl.
I know that sword. I see she found you after all.
Genma's mind flashed back to a frantic memory in the chaotic ruin of a commercial kitchen. Just as dawn broke on the sixth of July a year prior. When he faced that same girl, wearing nothing but a half-torn white satin nightgown, brandishing his wife's ancestral katana.
She did. And she's decided she wants a relationship with her daughter. A chance you pissed away a long fucking time ago, old man. I don't feel nothin' for you anymore except hate and resentment, and I can't tell you how good it would feel to stick this thing through the hole where your heart should be.
The scene played out in slow motion in Genma's mind. He had snatched the boiling tea kettle from the gas burner behind himself and hurled it, in one fluid motion, at his only child. Hot water had long been one and only thing that could wash away the facade - the facsimile of a lithe teenage girl that stood before him - and restore the man among men that he had raised. His son. His heir. His legacy.
But instead, what had followed was a bloodcurdling feminine scream. The girl crashed back into the countertop, striking the corner of its stainless steel surface with her full weight just under her left breast as she fell limp to the tile floor. That had to have broken his ribs, he remembered thinking at the time. He recalled a sense of relief when he'd made the realization. That will take the fight out of him. That's lucky, because in his male form, he's damn hard to beat in a fight even with the Cat's Tongue, especially with Akane's help.
Genma swallowed hard as the fuzzy silhouette of the redheaded bride was braced around the midsection and helped back to a standing position by the woman in gray. Her ribs were broken. At her own wedding.
The video cut to a clearer image of the bride leaning on the wall of the little apartment with her elbows. Behind her, a brunette in a green bridesmaid's gown pulled hard on a pair of satin laces, tying the pearl-encrusted corset even tighter around Ranko's torso. The bride's face could not be seen, but Genma Saotome winced as forcefully as she imagined she had been in that moment.
Because her father broke them.
He sat in silent contemplation for several moments, barely aware of the fact anyone was still performing, let alone the nervous vibrato that had made its way into the young starlet's voice.
"I realized a long time a-go-o-o-o… that I will always love you more than I can ever let you know." Ranko sang, her eyes clouded with deep sadness. She gazed down at her feet, hoping to hide her distress from her fans - especially the ones in the front row that she called family. "Wish you could feel everything I do. Too much gets lost in translation when I just say, 'I love you.'"
Her eyes darted up and to the side, stealing another quick glance at Kichirou Kondo's face. She wasn't sure what she was looking for - perhaps anger, or glee, or surprise - any hint, any indication as to whether he had noticed anything that corroborated the suspicions that could be her undoing. Her blood boiled in an instant. I can't believe I am singing about how much I love Akane, with her standing backstage to support me… and the fact that he's just sitting there watching it is making me feel ashamed of it. Making me afraid of it. Just like Ken and Ryo had to be.
I have never hated someone this much in my entire life.
She whipped her head around, forcing herself to look into Nabiki's eyes instead. If there's anything that can make me focus on the business at hand, she hoped.
"No one can ever hear it. No one can ever see. You fill all five of my senses, and it's still too much for me." She clutched at her chest, just between her breasts, covering her heart with clawed fingertips. "Sometimes it hurts, keeping it all inside. I haven't found a way to tell them yet, but I promise that I've tried."
In the control booth, Ariel glanced to his right, a concerned pallor falling over his face. "I didn't mishear that, right?! Did she just flub her own lyrics?!"
Masa chuckled, waving off his fellow technician's concern. "She ad-libs shit all the time, man. Relax."
Yeah, Ariel thought, nibbling on the corner of his lip as his eyes turned back to the stage. But not like that. If she was regretful about the impromptu change in the lyrics, however, Ariel could not tell, because the redhead swallowed back a mouthful of saliva and threw herself into the vocalization of the chorus with far more gusto than she had mustered for the preceding verse.
"There are no words! Nothing I can say, knowing this was the last morning I would call you fiancé. I'll barely have the time… to add a couple cho-o-o-ords…"
She inhaled sharply, summoning every scintilla of emotional discipline she had earned through more than a decade of torturous martial arts training at the hands of Genma Saotome to the forefront of her mind. Every molecule of steel Hana Takahashi had ever forged into her spine. Every memory of every heartbeat that Akane Tendo had ever filled with infinite quantities of unconditional love and understanding. The lingering warmth of every time Crash had ever hugged her and swore to her that, when it really mattered most, she would prove herself stronger than whatever tumult she felt in the moment. Or Zoe had. Or Hitomi had. Or Yui had. Or Shiori or Kumiko had. Or Izzi or Aya had.
Or Ken had.
She saw Ken's face smiling at her in her mind's eye, and the confidence drained from her voice in an instant. A shaky warble took its place as the note cracked under the immense pressure that had built up in her skull in a largely unsuccessful effort to prevent the salty water pooling in the corners of her eyes from starting to streak its way down her cheeks.
"... 'cause I've gotta get downstairs and let the whole world know I'm yours."
Behind her, the video board flashed to a new clip from Mei's handheld camcorder. In it, the blushing bride, her bejeweled white corset still cinched so tightly that she could barely breathe, was all but swallowed up in the arms of a much larger man in a smart white tuxedo.
As Genma watched his child sway in Soun Tendo's embrace, performing an impeccable waltz with his best friend and brother in all but blood, the camera angle finally captured a clear view of her face. In that moment, Genma Saotome saw something he barely recognized in her eyes. But, in a distant memory, he had seen it before. At another wedding. In those same eyes. They had not belonged to Ranma Saotome then, though, nor to Ranko Tendo… whoever that was. The last time he had seen that look in those eyes, they were on Nodoka Shimizu's face.
The broken, battered bride in the larger-than-life images gazed up into Soun Tendo's eyes with an expression that could only be described as unrestrained, unabashed, and unimaginably boundless joy.