Damn the Bunnies!

[bloodsong1]

On the dark streets a figure rode, his red Suzuki GSXR 1000 screaming its battle cry as he pushed the engine. Yellow eyes gleamed in the sodium lights and the figure of a dragon flashed in and out of the shadows blanketing the road. Coming up on a light, he pulled alongside another rider on a yellow GSXR 1000, this one with a crane emblazoned on her back and similar yellow eyes gracing her helmet. Ryu turned his face, fully hidden by the face plate, towards his new companion. Kijuuki turned her helmet to him. A cock of the head, a nod, and when the light turned green, two cycles jumped off the line and raced down the street. For six blocks, they chased each other, first one, then the other gaining a slight advantage. As a canal bridge loomed ahead, they hit the brakes, skidding to a stop just at the edge. The front tires were equally aligned.

Another tie.

Kijuuki and Ryu switched off the engines and climbed off, facing each other. Ryu reached for his face plate, Kijuuki shook her head hard. He hooked his thumbs into his jacket pockets and cocked his head. She pulled off her leather gloves, tucking them into her protective pants and held out her hands, palms up. He grinned inside his helmet and stripped off his gloves, taking her hands gently in his. She had writing callouses on her right hand. He turned her hands over. The knuckles were also slightly calloused, the sign of someone who trained in fighting. Her nails were short and unpainted. Not surprising. He stroked his thumbs over her knuckles, wondering what kind of fighting she did. He blinked when she copied his gesture, feeling the marks that betrayed his martial arts training. They looked at each other and smiled, the gesture concealed, yet shared.

"Another time, Kijuuki?" Ryu asked, his voice muffled.

"Anything goes, Ryu," Kijuuki responded, her voice also muffled. They let go at the same time, pulling their gloves back on and mounting their respective bikes. A casual salute and the duelers roared away in opposite directions.

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Parking Beaker between the house and the dojo, Akane Tendo threw the camoflague cover over her bike and headed into the house, stripping off her riding gear as she went. A light was still on in the main room, despite the midnight hour. Akane poked her head in the door. Yep, Nabiki was sitting at the table, fingers flying over her abacus and a pencil in her mouth. Akane smirked and strolled in, tossing a roll of bills onto the table. Nabiki spat out the pencil and picked up the bills.

"Good night, huh?" She asked the younger Tendo, who shrugged out of her jacket.

"Decent. Laid out a few of Black Rose's new recruits. Girl's got horrible taste in riders, but she still won't take me on."

"Not surprising, little sister. After all, how many times have you and Ryu faced off with no clear winner?"

"Tonight was the sixth."

"Figured him out yet?"

"He fights. Night!" With a wave of helmet, Akane disappeared up the stairs to hide her gear from Kasumi and go to bed. Nabiki snickered, adding the winnings to the family bank bag. Since their father had committed seppuku two years ago, the Tendo sisters had all worked very hard to keep the dojo going. Kasumi, then 20, took a job as a receptionist. Nabiki, at 17, spread her informant network wider and made a steady income selling secrets within and without high school. Akane, a mere 15, offered weekend martial arts classes for elementary school kids. It hadn't been easy, but together the 3 girls had made it work. Nabiki was secretly grateful their father had waited until Kasumi was an adult before offing himself like a samurai. If he hadn't, they would have all ended up in foster care. Kasumi was the head of the household, Nabiki the major breadwinner, which left Akane time to still be a kid. Naturally, the stubborn girl refused to and threw herself into school, teaching and street racing. Nabiki sighed and finished her calcuations. Another month, another round of bills. At least now with two people working steadily, things weren't as tight. Nabiki had scored a job with the local bank after she graduated from high school, the manager owing her big time. And speaking of jobs, she'd better head for bed too. Gathering up her accounting gear, the middle sister padded upstairs. Her shift started at 9 am.

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Ranma Saotome laid on his futon, twirling a lit joss stick between his fingers. The incense was halfway burned, making it difficult to avoid the glowing edge. He smirked, eyes focused on the ceiling as the slender stick danced. A slight sting and he put it back in its holder. Two thirds gone, he was getting better. Wouldn't Pops be pleased. Ranma snorted quietly and folded his hands behind his head. So Kijuuki was a fighter. That narrowed the field down quite a bit. He smirked as he remembered the night he discovered the Kijuuki was a woman. Their rules were simple, whomever won could choose what to reveal about themselves. In case of a tie, they had to agree on something. It was Kijuuki's first win and her posture had been smug as she unzipped her jacket, revealing a sweetly curved chest in a snug yellow Tshirt. He still fantasized about that night, going so far to take off her helmet too. The face beneath changed regularly. No one knew what Kijuuki looked like, few knew she was a girl. Like the Ryu, the Kijuuki preferred anonymity. They both enjoyed the reputation as excellent riders with a long standing rivalry. Kijuuki often went up against the Black Roses, the only all-girl crew in town. He himself was usually challenged by the Lost Boys or Blue Thunder, rival crews that constantly jockeyed for position. Lone riders like Kijuuki and Ryu rubbed the various groups wrong, especially when said loners regularly beat their members. Ranma turned on his side and closed his eyes. Sooner or later, he would know Kijuuki's face. And then, he smirked. Things would really heat up.