A New Name [Erica, Ranma]

Glad that her shield had managed to do its job, Erica would let it fade away, pleased with how she’d done. The crowd thankfully hadn’t seemed to want anything to do with her Kido which she was certainly thankful for and a smile crossed her features as she watched them all leave. The thought of having to fight them all off filled her with dread and not something she’d have done lightly. They weren’t criminals after all or at least she didn’t think so. They were just frightened people who felt intimidated by Arhat’s size or at least she hoped they were. The thought of them returning at a later date to continue where they left off was troubling.

By the time she was able to return to Ranma and Arhat, they were both in an absolute state, much to the distress of the pink haired healer and as he requested something from her through his tears, Erica bit her lip. She’d never been able to access her sword's power through will before and as she glanced down at her Zanpakuto, the healer became nervous. How could she call upon her blade at the drop of her hat without never even having spoken to it…

It was then that she thought back to her date with Ranma and that voice that she’d heard in her mind. She’d been tipsy at the time but hadn’t that been her sword? Erica honestly wasn’t sure if it had been or not given her state but she could remember the last words uttered.

Something about always having a smile on her face?

With no other real option, Erica would close her eyes, focusing on what was good in her life. She focused on those she healed and how they always thanked her afterwards, the friends that she’d made and the progress that she’d made with her Kido. Most of all, she thought about Ranma and the happiness that she felt whenever she was around him.

Her sword reacted, releasing the usual flowery scent that it usually did, filling the area around the trip with its sweet smell. It would try to break down the misery and fear that Arhat was suffering from, doing its best to erode and destroy it. Of course, it would try to help Ranma too but it seemed most focused upon the giant, whose woes seemed to be far deeper than her boyfriends.

It was then that she had the shock of her life, as that same voice from before would utter into her head. “You are learning, my dear Erica. Happiness will win my favour. Always remember that.”

Her smile growing, Erica would then Shunpo again so that she was beside her boyfriend and the weeping giant. “Come now, you two, there’s been enough tears.” She said softly, with both a sweetness and yet a certain determination too.

… Ohhh, strawberries and cinnamon… wait, that was Erica’s Zanpakutō, wasn’t it? How handy was it that her partner smelled so good – it was a wonder gift wrapped in cookies, whipped cream and sprinkles, whatever her Zanpakutō’s ability was going to be… but it still required her to learn her sword’s name.

Nah, it’d be fine. His sword was just a shy weirdo – no shot Erica’s wouldn’t be more helpful- far, much more helpful than whatever he experienced.

And with the pleasant scent filling the air, Arhat opened his eyes and hummed in relief. His spirits were lifted, and he even decided to stand up – due to his size, it did cause Ranma to back off before the guy’s shoulder would launch him to the stars. “Wooooaaaah! Glad to see you’re feelin’ better, Ar-… Arby… wait, that wasn’t your name…” Ranma greeted, breaking in his tracks at the sudden realization that he forgot the dude’s proper name. Ar-boy… no, it was Arhat, silly.

“…Y-You know, Arhat doesn’t really… roll off the tongue well- WAIT! Wait, hold on – we can’t call you that anymore, my big, green-haired fella~” Ranma suddenly cooked up with his eccentric, enigmatic pair of braincells cooking something up as always, “You’re no longer a Rukongai goon! Ignore that I don't have any authority to do this, but from here on now, you’re gonna be a Shinigami, just like the two of us~! That means ya gotta get a new name, so you stop scaring dumbasses out there…” If it wasn’t obvious that Ranma related to Arhat a bit too heavily, then he sure made it clear now. Ranma, too, had been called another name back in the slums… Retsu.

And fuck that name. Arhat probably meant something derogatory, too, so fuck that name, too.

“Just gotta think of a good name…”

“P R I C K ! ! !”

“… I don’t think that- maybe ‘prick’ could work, a harsh start and end does fit a big guy like y- wait, who the hell said that-“

That wasn’t a suggestion to a name – that was a slur shouted by an elder running around the alleyways nearby. His form would pop into view from some openings here and there – it appeared that he kept his cardio on the high, for he was running fast for a guy at his age. “You can’t run forever, you clawy, little burglar! Give me back my sweater, or I’ll bite off your tail!!!”

Whatever small creature he was running after was also fast… likely faster, but definitely more acrobatic. It escaped his grabby hands at all cutoffs, seeking the roofs and moving like a shadowy phantom at high speed. In its jaws, a reddish sweater flaked by the wind. It immediately disappeared into the taller buildings, leaving the old man catching his breath with a naked torso.

“?” Give him a few seconds, and Ranma would remember their original quest.