* Disclaimer *

Takahashi Rumiko created Ranma 1/2 and all of the characters and situations found therein. I have no rights to them whatsoever, and hope that she and anyone to whom they have been properly licenced do not sue me.

William Shakespeare has been credited with the creation of Much Ado About Nothing, but regardless of whoever actually wrote it, I don't think I'm in danger of being sued for misusing it. My apologies nonetheless to the Bard.

"Who's stupid idea was this anyway?" Ranma tugged at the breast bindings in disgust.

Nabiki considered how to answer that, and decided that she didn't want to lose her scriptwriter this early in the project. "It's not important, Ranma. But the fact is that this scene calls for a male bit part. And since we're out of male actors, we're just gonna have to invent one."

Ranma jabbed a thumb at her breast. "Do I look male to you at the moment?"

"You will shortly." Nabiki produced a fake mustache and goatee; they were red, and bore a remarkable resemblance to Ranma's hair.

Ranma scowled at the fake facial hair. "Where'd you get that?"

"Remember the incident with the dragon's whisker?" Nabiki smirked. "I figured I'd have a use for thirty feet of red hair."

Ranma grabbed the fakes. "Fine! Gimme a shirt."

"Five minutes, Ranma." Nabiki turned and walked out of the bathroom.

"Hey. Nabiki."

She turned, and looked down at the old man. "What is it, Happousai?"

Happousai scowled at her. "You should treat your master with more respect, girl."

"I'm not a martial artist. If I were, I wouldn't want you as a master. Even if I did, you wouldn't accept me. Now then...?"

He sighed. "You children have no respect for your elders. I don't like the part you've given me in this movie."

"You may feel free to quit if you don't like the part. Of course, you'll forfeit your pay..."

Happousai shook his head. "No. I won't quit. But I wonder if the part calls for a more...creative license."

"No. It doesn't."

"But this Antonio fellow...he's an old man!"

Nabiki raised an eyebrow.

"Old men in Shakespeare get no action!" He broke into tears. "Surrounded by such female loveliness, and here I am with an old man's part, nearly a monk...Truly, this destroys all of my remaining happiness in life!"

"Have you been taking lessons from Kuno?" Nabiki shook her head. "How far into the script have you read?"

"Um...Today's scenes."

"Read Act Two, Scene One. Then shut up and leave me alone. I'm due on location in five." She walked out, giving him no further chance to protest.

Her father was already on set, leaning against one of the stone pillars that supported the compound's gate. The cameras were in place; the scriptwriter was putting the final adjustments on Camera Two. Besides doing the writing, he'd proven to be a passable cameraman, and a fair video editor. She was glad; the job might have proven too much for her to handle.

"All set?"

"Yep." He tossed her the video camera's remote control. "I set the cameras for a little better separation this time. You'll be able to control them independantly this way. Just remember, if you want to stop both, you'll have to point at both."

"Okay."

He shrugged. "It'd be better just to let both roll anyway. We might get some useful footage that way."

She smirked. "You're starting to think like me."

"Nope. I was thinking of patchwork. You were thinking of blackmail." He picked his copy of the script up off of his chair and sat down.

"Right. On that note..." She turned towards her father. "Dad, on cue, you enter from the gate. Happousai, you enter at the same time."

"I understand." Soun nodded.

"Right. Cameras..." She clicked her remote, re-aimed, and clicked again. "...and...Action!"

Tail Kinker Presents

In Association with TN Enterprises

Much Ado About Ranma

"Good morning, my brother."

"Ah, Soun! A marvellous day, isn't it?"

"Indeed." Soun tilted his head. "And that music that I hear--"

The music was harsh, discordant, and decidedly unpleasant. Soun winced. "Your son...he--" He shook his head, and rubbed his ears.

"Cut!" Nabiki sighed.

The cameraman smirked. "That didn't take long."

Ranma stalked out of the house, waving a koto. "Nabiki! You know I can't play this! Why the heck--"

"It's a prop, Ranma. It's not even in tune. Don't play it. Just...air guitar, okay?"

"Fine!" She turned and stalked back into the house.

"From the top folks. Action!"

"Good morning, my brother."

"Ah, Soun! A marvellous day, isn't it?"

"Indeed." Soun tilted his head. "And that music that I hear...Your son is playing it?"

"Yes. He's quite skilled, isn't he?" Happousai grinned. "Listen, I got a bit of a tip from one of my boys."

"Do tell?"

"It seems that the good Doctor Tofu is rather smitten with your daughter Kasumi!"

"Really?" Soun smiled.

"Really. In fact, he intends to chat her up at the dance tonight, and if all goes well, why I would be surprised to learn that he doesn't ask your permission to marry her!"

"This fellow that told you this...He's trustworthy?"

"Oh, quite." Happousai pulled out his pipe, and began stuffing it with tobacco. "If you like, I'll call him up and you can talk to him yourself."

"No, no. That's quite all right. But I'll mention it to Kasumi, just so she's not caught totally unawares. Or better yet, you tell her."

"A very good idea."

Ranko stepped out of the Tendo family home, a koto in his hands. The young man bore a striking resemblance to Ranma, though he was somewhat shorter and sported a beard and moustache. "A traditional air for the dance tonight, Tendo-san?"

"Sweeto!" Happousai tossed his pipe to the side and launched himself towards Ranko, firmly affixing himself to the boy's chest.

"Cut!!" Nabiki jumped up and stormed onto the set. "Happousai!"

"Not now, Nabiki!" But the old man's pleasure was cut short by a tiny, delicate fist smashing him to the ground.

Nabiki smirked. Ranma fumed. Happousai sulked.

"Now then. Bear in mind, Happousai, that Ranma-chan's character is male. Not female. Got it?"

"But--"

"It would be very little trouble to replace you at this stage. Got it?"

Happousai sighed. "Got it."

"Right then." Nabiki walked back to her chair, and sat down. "Ranma, back inside. Good. From Ranko's entrance, please. Action!"

Ranko stepped out of the Tendo family home, a koto in his hands. "A traditional air for the dance tonight, Tendo-san?"

"Yes. That would be perfect. My brother...you should see to my daughter. And you, my cousin...we must consider the music for the dance!"

"Cut! Great, fantastic. Ranma, you can change back."

"About freakin' time." Ranma stormed off the set, already removing his shirt. Nabiki turned to the writer.

"How did we do?"

"Pretty good. We'll use the footage from Ranko's first entrance...it's more natural."

"Sounds fine to me. Let's move this junk to Ranma's bedroom, and we'll shoot Scene Three. I'll go collect Kuno and the boys."

This proved rather easily done, as all three of the actors needed for Scene Three were in the kitchen, enjoying a plate of Kasumi's cookies. Kasumi herself was nowhere to be seen, but Nabiki figured that even Kuno would be welcome to Kasumi's cookies.

"All right, you three. Scene Three's being shot in Ranma's room, upstairs."

Hiroshi gave her a thumbs-up, the best he could do with a mouth full of cookie. Daisuke was a little more verbal. "No problem, Nabiki." He took a quick swig of milk.

Kuno stood, and grabbed his kimono. "I understand, Tendo-san, why the formal garb is required for this part, a prince among men. But I wonder at your specific choice? Surely there are many finer garments in my wardrobe. Why do you choose this specific robe?"

"Because it's black, Kuno-baby." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "Stairs are that way, door at the end of the hall. Five minutes." She turned and left, before Kuno could complicate things even further.

The scriptwriter was struggling with both cameras and tripods; the very sight of it made her teeth sweat. She grabbed one set. "Easy, there. These are very delicate. And expensive."

"I told you we shoulda used digital stuff, Nabs."

"Don't call me that. I--" She gaped, as the camera fell off the tripod, and hit the floor with an expensive-sounding thump.

"Oh, hell."

"It wasn't mine, Nabs." He grabbed the camera off his own tripod, as though to emphasize the point.

"Yeah...As much as I'd like to blame you. How badly do we need both cameras for this scene?"

"Not really. Just have to do at least two takes. Heck, it might even be a bonus."

"I doubt it."

"We can get some strong angles, without worrying about filming the other camera."

"Set it up." She picked up the damaged camera. "I'm gonna stick this in my room, and hope that the damage isn't too bad."

"Best pull the tape out of it, right away."

"Yeah." She did so, then ran up the stairs. She opened the door to her room, dropped the camera on her bed, then put the tape in the VCR. She set up the computer to run a video capture, thenran back out.

The scriptwriter had just finished setting up his equipment, but her actors were not on stage yet. "Is that one okay?"

"Yep. Just dandy."

"Good." She turned, to see Kuno and the boys arriving at the top of the stairs. "Two takes, huh?"

"With these three, we'll probably have to take five."

"Be ready to move the camera on cue."

"Right."

Kuno stepped up to her. "Tendo-san, we are ready for our direction in this thespian activity."

"Cut the crap, Kuno. You and Hiro stay here; Daisuke, in the room, against the window."

"Okay."

"Camera is set."

"Perfect. Roll, and...Action!"

"Why the long face, Kuno-sempai?"

Kuno sighed as he entered the room. "There is no measure in the occasion; my sadness is beyond measure."

Daisuke shrugged. "Well, if it can't be cured..."

"I cannot cure what I am! I must be sad when I have cause; I must eat when I am hungry; I must sleep when I am tired, and laugh when I am merry!"

"I guess..." Daisuke shrugged. "But why hold it out in the open? I mean, you've been trying to get back in Saotome's good graces, right?"

"I'd rather be a thorn in a hedge, than a rose in his hand! We must be fair, my friend; I am a villain."

"...Okay. Daisuke glanced away from Kuno, as though expecting something, but whatever it was, it didn't occur. He looked back at Kuno. "So whatever it is that you're ticked about, can't you use it to your benefit?"

"Mayhap, but--" He broke off as Hiroshi came in. "What news, Borachio?"

"Cut." Nabiki sighed. "Kuno, we're not using the original names from the play, okay?"

"Very well, Tendo Nabiki."

"From Hiroshi's entrance. Action!"

"Mayhap, but--" He broke off as Hiroshi came in. "What news, Hiroshi?"

"Well, it seems that Doctor Tofu is going to ask Kasumi to marry him!"

"Indeed? And what mischief might I form from this, I wonder?" He considered, then laughed shortly. "Let us go to the dance! We shall find our mischief there!"

"Cut!" Nabiki grinned. "Great work, guys!"

"But Kuno flubbed all of his lines!" Hiroshi protested. "You called him down yesterday--"

"Kuno was still downplaying Don John's lines. Probably didn't remember them properly." Nabiki gestured to the scriptwriter, who began moving the camera. "I want to do it again, from a different angle; we'll get the door, where the camera was sitting. 'Roshi, I want you to be around the frame until your entrance, okay?"

"Got it."

"Great. Let's get this one done, and then we can all go have more of Kasumi's cookies."

"Set over here, Nabs."

"Don't call me that. Roll 'em. Action!"

"Why the long face, Kuno-sempai?"

Kuno sighed as he entered the room. "There is no measure in the occasion; my sadness is beyond measure."

Daisuke shrugged. "Well, if it can't be cured..."

"I cannot cure what I am! I must be sad when I have cause; I must eat when I am hungry; I must sleep when I am tired, and--hark!"

"Eh?"

"Is this before me not one of the pig-tailed girl's most intimate garments?" He leaned over, and drew the brassiere from beneath the futon. "Certain it is that it is not one of Saotome's!"

"Cut!"

"But then this means that the pig-tailed girl was in a state of undress in Saotome's bedchamber!"

"I said cut, goddammit!"

"The foulness of the demon goes un--"

"KUNO!!"

Kuno blinked, and turned to face Nabiki. "Yes, Tendo Nabiki?"

"Put that back."

He blinked. "But--"

"Kuno, we've used this area as a dressing room, okay? Are you surprised that the pig-tailed girl might have forgotten this here? Especially since she was using...an alternative form of support today?"

"But--"

"Put it back, Kuno."

He did so, though reluctantly.

"Now then." She stepped back out of the camera's field of view. "From Kuno's line."

"But--"

"Make that Daisuke's line. Action."

Daisuke shrugged. "Well, if it can't be cured..."

"I cannot cure what I am! I must be sad when I have cause; I must eat when I am hungry; I must sleep when I am tired, and laugh when I am merry!"

"I guess..." Daisuke shrugged. "But why hold it out in the open? I mean, you've been trying to get back in Saotome's good graces, right?"

"I'd rather be a thorn in a hedge, than a rose in his hand! We must be fair, my friend; I am a villain."

"...Okay. Daisuke glanced away from Kuno, as though expecting something, but whatever it was, it didn't occur. He looked back at Kuno. "So whatever it is that you're ticked about, can't you use it to your benefit?"

"Mayhap, but--" He broke off as Hiroshi came in. "What news, Hiroshi?"

"Well, it seems that Doctor Tofu is going to ask Kasumi to marry him!"

"Indeed? And what mischief might I form from this, I wonder?" He considered, then laughed shortly. "Let us go to the dance! We shall find our mischief there!"

"Cut, and print. Good work. Get lost."

Kuno stepped towards her. "But about that article of apparel--"

"Yes, she wore it. You can take it, if you want. I'm sure she's done with it." If she recalled correctly, it was the bra that Ranma had worn for his photo-shoot, to try to trap Happousai. No wonder Kuno had recognized it; he had purchased some fifty prints from that shoot.

"Perhaps you confuse me with the Master of Perversion. I merely wished to ensure it was returned to its rightful owner."

"I'll do that myself. Now get lost."

He turned and stalked out of the room. Nabiki collapsed against the wall. "Thank God that's over."

"That wasn't so bad," offered the scriptwriter.

The glare that he got in return would have melted tool steel.