Phoenix: Reignited Edition

Ranko waved to the assembled patrons from her new stage platform with a pang of guilt, taking a shallow bow. I'm sorry, guys. You're not getting my best tonight. I've just… I've got more important things on my mind than pop music right now. Wherever she went in the room, her eyes were never far off from the table in the far corner by the front door, where Mikado Sanzenin and his two hangers-on: both slender but athletic men in their own right, sat. She might not have had experience with dating guys, but she knew danger when she saw it, especially when it sat in her home with a bottomless pitcher of sake. 

I can't believe he hasn't even recognized me. I'm up here singing and dancing like a freakin' idol thirty meters from his table; it's not like I'm going stealth. Did… Did what he did to me mean so little to him that he doesn't even fucking remember me? Was it that casual for him, the way he got inside my head and filled it with fucking demons?!

When Ranko's gaze wasn't on Mikado, it was on his girlfriend. Mei still hadn't had much to say to her in days. It's not her fault, Ranko reminded herself as she stepped down from the stage. She doesn't know, and it's entirely my fault she doesn't know. Singing for two hundred strangers, I can do without a second thought, but having a conversation with my big sister and letting her know she's in danger… that, I'm not brave enough for. Some fucking big, bad martial artist I turned out to be. I'm not even sure she'd believe me if I did tell her, not with how hooked on him she is, and how pissed at me she is.

She glared up at table one, digging her pink-polished acrylic fingernails into her palm and wincing at the pain. I'm just glad Mei sat him in her section. If I had to bring that piece of shit a drink, I'd probably spit in it. Her stomach rolled at the realization that thundered through her mind. It wouldn't even be the first time he's tasted my spit. 

The redhead rushed between her tables, doing her best to keep them happy while reserving herself as much time as possible. There was just one problem with that – the more popular Ranko's singing had become, the less interested the crowd had become in entertaining themselves with karaoke. Whether she had asked for it or not, the newly-expanded stage had become almost her exclusive domain, and the customers got restless when it wasn't filled. She almost didn't have time to serve tables between songs some nights, and the current shift was one of them.

She had barely dropped off a tray full of empty mugs when some of the more inebriated revelers at the few tables closest to the stage began cheering loudly, willing the platform spanning the length of the ladies' room at the back of the bar to come to life again. Ranko rolled her eyes at Yui, who could only wave her back toward the stage. With an exasperated sigh and a pitiful glance by way of apology at Izumi, who was frantically trying to cover the torrent of drink orders her two youngest sisters kept bringing her at the service bar, Ranko closed the distance to the raised platform and hopped up the three steps to take her place, picking up her handheld microphone from its stand. The hundreds of sparkly white rhinestones Izumi had glued to its once-smooth handle bit into her hand, and she squeezed it tight, letting the discomfort in her hypersensitive palm help her focus. 

"Tell you what, why don't you guys pick the next song?" Ranko did her best to smile, and the crowd began shouting a cacophony of song titles at her. Hearing one louder voice call out a Japanese pop song she knew by heart, she pointed to the guy who named it. "Yeah, let's do One Night in Heaven! You guys know it, right?" Most of the crowd whooped in the affirmative; the song was new, and it had been getting a lot of play on the radio for the last few weeks. Ranko jogged down the stairs to the karaoke station in the booth where the Pac-Man machine once stood. She leaned over the monitor, pulling up the song and beginning the backing track. The Phoenix' songstress-in-residence hurried back up to the stage, grateful that the song's long instrumental intro gave her a few moments to take her position before the lyrics began to change color on the monitor.

As she finished the first verse, she looked up and spied Mei leaning on Mikado's table talking with him and his friends. Shaking her head slightly and trying to blend it into her choreography, she admonished herself. Mei doesn't want you looking after her, and you have a job to do, she thought to herself before launching into the chorus with a bit more effort. The crowd jubilantly sang along as Ranko gestured with her hands, waving both of them at shoulder height as she'd seen the two members of Wink do in the song's music video.

The songstress' eyes flashed throughout the room, trying her best to make eye contact with everybody at least once. The couple at table fourteen were going to need refills after the song. Table eighteen had put their menus down; they were likely ready to order. The girl in the green shirt at the bar had probably reached the point at which she shouldn't be served any more alcohol, and the creepy guy sitting next to her had definitely noticed her incapacitation. Yui was catching up on drink orders, Izumi was running the dishwasher, Hana had disappeared back into her office, and Mei was… nowhere to be found. 

Almost forgetting to begin the next chorus on time, Ranko searched the darkened room frantically. Sanzenin's still in his seat, so everything's probably okay, but where's Mei? Searching the bar back area, she caught a glimpse of the trash can behind Izumi, which was missing its bag. She must have gone out back to toss it. Okay. She breathed a sigh of relief – but a short-lived one, because from the corner of her eye, she caught movement from the table at the back. Mikado made a gesture to his friends that anyone who had ever spent time with - or in the case of Ranko, as - a guy recognized as an indication that he was about to do something he wanted his friends to watch. He stood, heading out the glass double doors at the front of the bar and turning left, toward the alley. This doesn't smell right at all, Ranko thought.

The song was coming to a close, and all that remained was one more repetition of the couplets that made up the song's extended chorus. Thinking on her feet, Ranko waved to the crowd excitedly with a bright, if forced, smile. "Hey! You know the words! Let's hear you!" She pointed the microphone toward the crowd, and the exuberant audience got the hint, with a full sixty or so of the bar patrons beginning to sing the lyrics over the steel guitar backing track. As soon as her point had been made, Ranko tossed the scintillating microphone to a middle-aged woman standing near the stage and leapt down, leaving the revelers to finish the song on their own. 

Ranko hopped down from the stage without taking the stairs and began pushing her way through the crowd toward the bar. 

Yui looked at the young singer crossly as Ranko nearly threw a flight attendant out of her path. "Ranko! The song's not even over! What the hell are you doing?!" 

Unable to get around a fat, balding man blocking the gap between the main and service bar counters, Ranko vaulted over the main bar with one hand. She did not especially care if the college coed perched on the closest stool got more of a show than she bargained for under Ranko's short black dress. She crashed through the slatted blue saloon door without answering Yui, rushing to the back door. 

If I'm wrong about this, Mei will never forgive her, but if I'm right, and I don't act, I'll never forgive myself, Ranko resolved. It took her about two steps to make up her mind, and as she approached the door, which stood partially ajar admitting the frigid December air into the commercial kitchen, she knew she had chosen correctly. 

"Mikado, what are you... Hey, stop that! I said stop!" Mei's voice echoed in the chill air of the alleyway.   

Ranko slid through the door sideways without touching it, and found Mikado pinning Mei against the red brick wall of the drug store next door to the Phoenix at the far side of the alley. His left hand was holding both of her wrists above her head, and his right was beginning to make its way up her knee-length denim skirt. 

Mei turned her face away from him and fought to break free, but the athlete's powerful grip was too much for her. Her urgent pleas quickly devolved into a desperate whine without discernible words. 

"What's the matter, Mei?" Mikado chuckled darkly, toying with his prey. "I thought you liked m… urk!" 

One moment, Mikado's face was centimeters from Mei's, and the next, it just… wasn't. It took Mei a moment to reorient, and as she did, she found Mikado lying on his back on the snow-covered asphalt. 

Ranko, meanwhile, was rising from a sweeping crouch a half-meter or so behind him. Mei was almost afraid to look at her. They hadn't spoken in days, and now, forget the light dusting of snow covering the gravel of the alley – the fury in Ranko's eyes would have melted steel. 

"Mei, you okay?" Ranko's eyes did not leave the prone antagonist as she spoke. "C'mere." 

Mei pushed herself off from the wall, giving Mikado a wide berth as she circumnavigated him to reach Ranko's side. Though they didn't touch, Mei could hear in Ranko's breathing that she was shivering; the combination of a light snow, the Full Body Cat's Tongue pressure point, and the thin black minidress she wore was taking its toll on her, not to mention the tidal wave of adrenaline coursing through her.

Mikado stumbled to his feet, and Ranko leveled her arm in front of Mei, pulling her a step back and dropping into a defensive taekwondo stance between the two. 

Mei grabbed at her arm. "Ranko, you can't! I told you, he's won hundreds of fights, and only lost one!" 

Ranko smirked darkly, staring through her adversary. She wanted to watch him panic. It was high time he experienced what fear felt like. "Yeah, I know. Who do you think was the one that beat him?" 

Look at me, you son of a bitch. Ranko sneered, tightening her stance. Remember me? I think you're gonna find I'm a little bit different than your average girl. 

Mikado rocked on his feet with the realization. "No… It can't be… it is! It is you!" He smirked rakishly. "This night just keeps getting better! Back for more, finally? Just couldn't stay away, I suppose? No need to be jealous; you'll get your turn."

Mei opened her mouth to speak, but Ranko's voice broke the silence first. "Mei, get inside." She spoke through gritted teeth, a darkness roiling in her unyielding stare. How dare he condescend to me, after everything! Tonight, Ranko swore to herself, you're gonna pay. Not only for what you tried to do to Mei, but for what you did to me on that ice. 

Ranko's every muscle was tensed to its maximum, pleading for permission to erupt in righteous fury. She ignored the icy tear streaking its way down her cheek, willing her eyes to produce no more. You're gonna pay for every single fucking time you've hurt me in my dreams. You've violated me over and over again, and it ends now. For the first time since the Phoenix Pill was destroyed, she did not fear being struck. She didn't care how much he hurt her, as long as she hurt him more. 

She adjusted her stance slightly, bringing her arms more to her sides almost casually. Mei did not move, but Ranko's focus was now singular, and she spat her words in a voice icier than the December air at the nightmare made flesh in the alley in front of her. "I told you last time - if you ever laid your hands on me or someone I love again..." She no longer seemed to feel the cold. 

Mikado laughed dismissively. "We'll see about that!" He rushed forward two steps, cocking his right fist back and launching it at Ranko's chest. 

She did not move until a split second before his punch struck home, and then at lightning speed, both of her arms pivoted forward from her sides toward his arm, parallel to the ground with her left arm just in front of her right. Her right hand caught his wrist first, thrusting it harmlessly past her body to her left. Her left palm jammed into his elbow from the opposite direction with all the force she could bring to bear, and the alleyway echoed with a snap and a scream. 

Ranko spun into a roundhouse kick to his chest that shoved her opponent back a step, and Mei gasped audibly at the sight of the supposedly invincible athlete's right arm now dangling limply at his side, bent the wrong way in the middle.

"You… you bitch! You broke my fucking arm!" Mikado roared. 

Ranko nodded, finding a vengeful satisfaction in his wailing. "One bone down..." 

She swept her left leg behind herself, low to the ground, and took a crouched pu bu kung fu stance, inverted to account for her left-handedness with her right leg and arm extended and her left arm poised behind her. 

"Two hundred and five to go." 

That's right, Ranko thought with a satisfied sneer, reveling in the fear in his eyes. My name is Ranko Tendo, and I'm the demon in your nightmares now. You'll never forget me again. She lifted her extended right arm, curling her fingers and beckoning mockingly in his direction. 

With any semblance of strategy lost to his rage and the loss of his dominant arm, Mikado roared in fury and rushed her wildly. For a split second, Ranko had considered letting him off with just the one injury. Unfortunately for Mikado, that second was now over, and worse still, he had badly misjudged the momentum of his charge. Ranko knew that all of Mikado's martial arts experience and muscle memory involved fighting on frictionless ice, but on solid ground, the advantage was hers.

The lithe redhead easily sidestepped his charge, sweeping at his legs. Mikado stumbled forward, crashing headlong into the brick back wall of the Phoenix. Before he could turn to face her, he felt a sharp kick as Ranko dug her heel into his lower back, driving him forward against the bricks. 

"How's it feel when you're the one being put up against a wall, bitch?!" Ranko jeered as she twisted her ankle, eliciting a grunt of pain from the figure skater.

"There!" 

Ranko turned her head at the sound of voices, finding Mikado's two friends from the bar approaching from the direction of the Phoenix' front door. One wore a blue polo shirt, the other a green sweater, and both were in jeans. Okay, guys. You get one chance. 

"He had it comin', guys." She shrugged, still pinning Mikado to the wall with her leg, her knee locked straight. "Do yourselves a favor. Walk away."

"Get her!" 

Ranko smirked, pulling back her leg and driving her knee into Mikado's back and ignoring the two men charging her down the length of the alley. "Gotta say, you've downgraded from hiding behind Azusa. These guys are way stupider. Stay here a second, wouldja, Mikado?" As she spoke, she reached out with her hand, squeezing the skater's broken elbow and eliciting a loud scream. It still echoed through the alleyway as the girl in the black minidress turned to face her new challengers. 

"Mei, get inside. Right now." 

Ranko cracked her knuckles as Mei slipped through the back door and into the warmth of the Phoenix kitchen. "Well, okay, boys. If that's how you want it, who's first?" She dropped into a taekwondo back stance, her right leg and arm extended forward and her left arm cocked behind her with an open, upturned palm. For the first time since the Full-Body Cat's Tongue had been inflicted, she felt a sense of confidence in a fight. Can't get too cocky, though, she reminded herself. These guys may be nothin', but one good hit and I'm pretty fucked, and it's three against one. 

The man in the sweater reached her first, and Ranko leapt forward into a kick toward his face. The assailant, the taller of the two, caught her ankle in both hands, gripping it tight. "Gotcha!"

Ranko grinned. "Yep! Thanks for the boost!" She propelled herself forward on her standing right leg, spinning upward and using his grip on her leg as leverage. Twisting in the air, she whipped her right leg around. His grip on her ankle released as the toe of her black leather boot crashed into his cheek. He fell to the gravel in a heap, and Ranko's momentum carried her toward the wall of the drug store next to the Phoenix. She landed in a crouch, glaring up at the man in the polo shirt who closed on her at a dead run. 

Wait for it… wait for it… Ranko rose to a standing position, taking no fighting stance at all. When her opponent was less than two meters from her, she reached casually to her left, lowering a metal lever with a heavy clunk. The steel ladder for the drug store's fire escape slid down on its track punctuated by a loud squeak, crashing loudly to the gravel. The redheaded martial artist took a step backward, letting the charging thug slam face-first into the ladder. 

Mikado's hanger-on had already started reaching for her when the narrow ladder dropped in front of him, and his right arm protruded between two of its rungs. Ranko grabbed his wrist, pulling him forward and slamming him into the ladder again at the chest. She ducked below his arm, still pinning him to the ladder with it, and delivered a series of three quick punches to his ribs. She only released his arm when she saw his sweatered friend approaching in her peripheral vision. 

"Man, you guys just don't learn, do ya?" Ranko grabbed the side of the ladder, jumping and using the torque of her grip to add to the momentum of her horizontal motion. Again, her boot slammed into the young blond's cheek, sending him sprawling to the ground close to his friend. 

After a quick glance behind her to ensure that Mikado was not rejoining the fight, she squared off against his two accomplices. "Guys, it's Christmas, so I'm gonna give you a present. Just this once." She raised her right leg until her knee was at waist height, holding her right arm forward and her left over and behind her head in a crane kung fu stance. 

"Run."

The two men looked at each other, seeming to confer wordlessly about their plan of action. Nodding to each other, they turned and fled back toward the main street. "Sorry, Mikado!" the one in the sweater yelled as they turned the corner toward the harbor. 

"That's ri — gyaaaa!" Having watched the pair until they reached the end of the alley to ensure they didn't turn back toward the front door of the Phoenix, Ranko had taken her eyes off of Mikado too long. She cried out as her hypersensitive scalp screamed with agony as Mikado yanked her beribboned red ponytail backward with his left hand, bending her backward until she was looking up at him and holding her hair tight in his grip.

Mikado sneered, his face lowering closer to hers. "You're good. I'll give you that. But now, about that kiss…"

No. No. Nonononononono… not again. Flashes of memories flooded her mind in an instant. A crowded arena. The stunned, pitied look on Akane's face. Her father's laughter when she went to him for advice. Fight. Fight it, she begged herself as the torrent of resurfaced trauma drowned out her thoughts.

"Get off of me!" Ranko threw her right fist out to her side, driving it up into his crotch. 

Mikado released her hair, staggering backward with a pained grunt. 

Ranko rose to a standing position, shaking her head. The avalanche of memories droned like alarm bells in her mind, and she wanted them gone.

I have to focus. It's time to finish this.

She cocked her fists in front of herself, her elbows tucked close to her chest, dragging her left heel through the gravel and bending her knees, weaving slightly on her feet in a muay thai southpaw stance. 

"You want your kiss, Mikado? Come and get it."

I've learned a few new tricks since the last time we met, Ranko thought darkly. A little parting gift from the Amazons. She took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly as she replayed Koh Lon's instructions from a year ago in her mind. 

Don't aim. Strike whatever's in front of you. 

Don't defend. Your opponent will be too overwhelmed to attack. 

Mikado rushed forward toward his prey. 

Ranko did not move a muscle. Her eyes were almost glazed over, as if she were drunk. 

Clear your mind. Thoughts make you slow. 

Don't think. Just move. 

She crouched slightly, and as he charged into her range, she drove upward into his ribs with a blisteringly fast punch, and another, and another, the blows crashing into him like an incessant hailstorm. Each strike rocked him on his feet, but they came so quickly that he could not regain his balance between them to defend himself. 

Her mind was devoid of all conscious thought. Her hands moved autonomically, raining blow after blow upon her opponent. She did not know if each strike hit an arm, or a face, or a chest. She did not care. Every strike hit something, and the next invariably landed before Mikado could react. The memory of every tear Ranko had shed alone in the dark, every second of shame she had felt, and every mocking word she had endured because of Mikado Sanzenin became a spear that she fired into his torso with the force of a ballista and the speed of the deadly Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire technique.

Having cut herself off conscious thought - the key to unlocking the speed of the Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire technique - also denied her the will required to block the unconscious memories that resumed pouring into her brain unchecked. Her mind's eyes flashed with images of that night. Of the arena. Of a kiss. Of Ryoga's mocking. Of Akane's horror. Of crying. So, so much crying. She was no longer conscious of her surroundings. She did not feel the cold or the crunch of snow-dusted gravel under her feet. She did not hear the wind. She did not smell the full dumpster a few meters away. She did not see her fists move, and was barely aware of their meeting resistance when they struck home. 

She thought she heard a sound, like a voice, but garbled, as if it were underwater. She did not process it. In the void of her mind, she was seconds from being trapped in Mikado Sanzenin's arms again. She heard another sound, distant, muffled, like someone shouting into a pillow. It blended into the cacophony of cackling and catcalls that echoed in her memory. His arms were closing in.

Ranko's fists continued launching forward with the speed of a machine gun, entirely on their own. Her right arm encountered a sudden, unexpected resistance, jarring her out of her memories. The distant voice rang out again, clearly enough to comprehend this time. 

"RANKO! PLEASE! STOP!" 

She turned her head, blinking, to find Hana standing behind her. The elder woman's feet were firmly planted on the ground, and she had both of her arms wrapped tight around Ranko's elbow, which was still raised above her head with her hand balled into a fist. A sound echoed through the alleyway, sounding eerily like a scream in Ranko's own voice, but Ranko didn't remember making one. 

She turned her head slowly back in the direction of her other arm, her eyes an empty glaze. Her elbow was locked with her arm straight, her fist clenched around the collar of a silver polo shirt. Crumpled on his knees with his head hanging limply to the side, Mikado was barely conscious. His face was swollen and bruised everywhere. One of his eyes looked up at her, unblinking and glazed, and the other was swollen shut. Blood dripped from his nose and upper lip. 

"He's had enough! Let him go!" Hana pleaded, trying to pull the slender teen back toward the bar.

Blinking through the horrified expression on her face, Ranko unclenched her fingers, and Mikado slumped to the gravel with a thud and a pained groan.