Ranma stared at the infant. The infant stared back with ancient, calculating eyes. Then it burped up a glob of purple slime that sizzled on the dojo floor.
Ranma, in his male form, approached the cushion fortress. The baby hissed.
"You're going about it all wrong," Nabiki observed from the porch, eating Pocky. "You can't scare her with violence. She invented half those moves. You need to scare her with the unknown ." ranma 1-2 manga
For one long second, silence.
"Me?!" Ranma squawked.
The second attempt involved Akane. Her "terrifying" cooking. Baby Kima sniffed the burnt offering, looked Akane dead in the eye, and signed a complex critique using baby sign language that somehow conveyed "too much ash, not enough spite." Akane burst into tears of frustration.
"Herb? What'd I do this time? I haven't even had breakfast," Ranma said, dodging a swipe from Akane's table leg. Ranma stared at the infant
And then, a wail. Not of pain. Of pure, existential, I-have-never-been-so-humiliated-in-ten-centuries terror.