Ranma 1-2 Manga • Editor's Choice

"No," said Ranma.

The vortex reopened. Light flashed. When it cleared, the baby was cooing normally, and the old woman blinked with the wisdom of her true age. The reversal was complete.

The final confrontation took place at sunset. Baby Kima had constructed a fortress out of dojo cushions, armed with chopsticks and a jar of wasabi. The Matriarch's ancient body (with baby Puchi's mind inside) was gumming a ceremonial sword in the corner, cooing. ranma 1-2 manga

Ranma, in his male form, approached the cushion fortress. The baby hissed.

"RANMA SAOTOME!" bellowed the fur-clad man, whom Ranma recognized with a groan as Herb, the prince of the Musk Dynasty. "You will answer for this!" "No," said Ranma

Not with the usual fiery entrance of a rival, but with a shimmering, pastel-colored vortex. From it tumbled three figures: a wizened old woman no taller than a loaf of bread, swaddled in ancient, dusty silks; a massive, fur-clad man with a boar-tusk necklace, weeping openly; and a baby. The baby was floating on a silk cushion, drooling with an air of imperial authority.

Then, from the pile of powder, a sound emerged: not a war cry, not a curse. A tiny, high-pitched, utterly helpless sneeze. "K'TCHOO!" When it cleared, the baby was cooing normally,

When a stray Amazon ritual curse swaps the minds of a newborn baby and the elderly Matriarch of the Musk Dynasty, Ranma must master the forbidden "Art of Diaper-Changing Combat" to prevent a marriage proposal that would doom him to fatherhood before breakfast. The morning at the Tendo Dojo was, by their standards, peaceful. Akane was chasing Ranma with a table leg. Ranma was bouncing off the koi pond, laughing. Kasumi was humming while preparing tea. Nabiki was already planning how to monetize the inevitable explosion.