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Sighing, Saotome Ranma tucked away her treasures, resecured the chest, and got herself back into the mindset of being a man among men, and pushed down all of her secret, unspoken hopes and dreams of being a beautiful woman warrior.Ĭreeping out through the crawlspace made that easy. And she was popular enough in that respect that she could pass off her sense of shame about it as ego in favor of other behaviors. Nobody could know that she was a closet Sailor Senshi fangirl, that this was the expression of romantic, girlish femininity that she allowed herself in contrast with the entire rest of her lifestyle.Īt best, she might have scoffed and written it off as trying too hard someone like her didn’t need to bother with flashy, cutesy presentation like that when her looks were already what they were. So, there it was: the proof nobody else could see, a photograph of her mugging for the camera with none other than Sailor Mercury. She’d happened upon one of the battles, and begged and pleaded with the victorious Senshi to pose with her, as she convinced a tourist with an instant camera to take the picture. Slipping a hand into her pocket, she pulled out the latest, and most important prize: a photo of herself. Untouched by her unworthy hands and secured in a plastic baggie, a lock of brown hair that had been clipped off of the ponytail of the way-too-cool Sailor Jupiter when a scissors-wielding monster (thankfully, not associated with coconuts or pineapples) had attacked. The small artifacts left behind at scenes of adventures. Her fingers traced across the blurry photographs of battles, rescues.
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You definitely didn’t talk about things like that when you had an image to maintain. Unless you hung around Okonomiyaki Ucchan’s, and overheard arguments between her suitors the obsessive cisgender heterosexual drag queen Kurenai Tsubasa, or the romantic-minded transgender lesbian Konatsu. You just didn’t talk about stuff like that, in Nerima. Nobody in Furinkan would have thought twice about girls who fought monsters with magical elemental attacks, who witnesses suggested had shocking moonlit romances with handsome men, beautiful women, or even one another. They especially didn’t care about the teenage Sailor Senshi, or their exaggeratedly feminine style. People there simply didn’t care about magical girls, except as a rare curiosity. There were three things Nerima was known for: anime studios, a history of daikon farming, and the martial arts chaos of Furinkan-cho. Nobody else in Nerima would understand why she felt this way, and as she opened the case to reveal the prizes of her rare, secret, disguised trips to Azabu-Juuban, she knew why. It wasn’t the most secure option, but any kind of key wouldn’t have done a key could be lost, or misplaced, or snatched up by someone snooping through her things. Anyone who did find their way down there would be hard-pressed to notice it, unless they already knew exactly what to look for.Ī pocket-sized flashlight in hand, she pulled the chest out from where it had been tucked into a just-right gap, and found the combination lock that had been left to face away from any potential viewers. Nondescript, made of an unfinished wood that blended well with the material of the house’s foundations. At the worst… well, there was a quiet agreement that it was a good thing nobody ever got the eldest Tendo sister mad. With all that went on in there, it was still kind of off-limits even the worst villains visiting Nerima knew better than to risk damage to Kasumi’s domain.Īt the very least, the hungry residents of the Tendo home wouldn’t have responded kindly. She’d been worried someone like Kuno’s little ninja Sasuke would find it, or that one of the catastrophic destructions of the house might reveal it to onlookers, but placing it just underneath the entrance to the kitchen had worked out. That was why the secret wasn’t even in her bedroom she crept down and outside of the house, and shimmied underneath, into the crawlspace.
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It didn’t matter, since nobody would find out. Of all the people who might find out about her secret… Even Nabiki was absent, out along with both of the fathers as they applied for some kind of local cultural heritage grant in order to fund repairs to the dojo-which, more likely than not, meant that Nabiki would do the actual negotiation, and come away with a fairly large stack of yen, herself.Įven her reluctant, stubborn opposite in their arranged marriage was absent, which suited her just fine.