Akane
by Kirinin
Thirteen
Akane woke sobbing. “We... we did it... Ryoga... we killed...” “Stop that,” Ryoga demanded harshly. “You know it was an accident, okay? We didn’t mean to. Besides, you paid for it and then some.” A muffled groan brought Saotome Genma to Akane’s attention. He was hogtied and sprawled out across the grass, kicking futilely. There was a small campfire near the older man, which Ryoga had built to ward off the gathering darkness. The black spot of earth was visible, but Ryoga had set up camp several meters away from it. Akane sniffled, wrapping her arms around her knees. “I thought for sure I wouldn’t cover something up like this...” “Thought you wouldn’t? What do you mean?” Ryoga demanded. Akane shivered to herself as she realized what important piece of information was missing, from Ryoga’s point of view. “R-Ryoga... I haven’t been able to remember. I didn’t know what had happened. All this time I was trying to figure it out... but I was sure I hadn’t done anything really wrong...” She sniffed again, despondent. Ryoga didn’t respond. He walked over to the campfire and poked it with a stick, watching as the ash drifted downwards into the heart of the flames. “Well, now you know,” he finally replied softly. He sat heavily. “What you don’t know is just how much I loved her. It was obvious I had a crush, but...” He shrugged, a blank look settling across his features. “I was a fool, waiting so long to say anything. And now it’s too late.” Genma squirmed and generally looked as incredulous as Akane felt. “Huh?” she managed. Ryoga glared at her. “Look, I know she was your fiancée, but you’ve always known I had a thing for her.” Akane shook her head. “B-but... Ranma’s a boy!” she exclaimed. “What do you mean, ‘Ranma’ is a boy? Of course ‘Ranma’s a boy. Or was,” Ryoga replied warily. Akane blinked. “I... just didn’t know... Well, never mind.” She stared into the fire and hoped the blush on her cheeks would be mistaken for firelight. Ryoga eyed her curiously for a moment before settling himself more comfortably in front of the fire, stretching out his legs. “I still don’t really understand why he’s after you,” Ryoga said casually, gesturing towards the bound martial artist with a tight nod. Akane and Genma once again exchanged a glance in spite of themselves. Akane wasn’t even sure she could manage a ‘huh’ this time. Ryoga shrugged. “I thought you said you were going to tell your father what happened.” Akane frowned, confused. What did her father have to do with this? “'Tell him what'...” she echoed, puzzled. “You know I don’t remember what happened, Ryoga. I just told you that.” “Don’t remember? How could you not—” Ryoga’s voice dropped off into silence, and he turned towards her, his eyes wide and wild. “Don’t... remember... anything... about what happened?” Akane blinked at him hesitantly as a faint aura flew up around him. “N-no... R-Ryoga... is it... I mean... are you okay?” “Akane?” “Yes?” Akane replied timidly. Ryoga seemed to deflate; then he put his head in his hands and began to laugh. He kept laughing and laughing, his shoulders shaking silently while Akane and Genma looked worriedly on. Akane shivered. “Ryoga? Ryoga! Stop it! Stop that, you’re scaring me!!!” Ryoga’s laughter cut off abruptly, but when he turned to face her, his chuckles began again. “It’s... too... funny...” he wheezed, but he didn’t sound amused. He sounded like he was going to throw up. Akane’s hand flew back and she slapped him, hard. “Snap out of it, P-chan!” she demanded fiercely. “If you don’t tell me what the hell is going on here, I’m gonna...” Ryoga blinked at her, and Akane gasped. He was crying. He was crying. Twin tracks of tears streaked his cheeks. “You called me P-chan,” he whispered. Akane sat down heavily in front of him, her legs feeling as though they’d been swept out from underneath her. “If it makes you cry, I won’t do it again,” she replied softly. “Oh god. Oh, god,” Ryoga mumbled softly to himself. He looked at Genma in sudden surprise. “And he doesn’t know, either! He... thinks... you... killed Ranma...” Ryoga began to laugh again. Akane shook him. “I didn’t?!” Ryoga shook his head, still giggling helplessly. “Nobody... killed.. Ranma...” Akane gulped for air. “Ranma’s alive...?” she demanded, shaking him some more. Ryoga nodded. “But... you said... we’d had an accident... and the burned earth...” The change that occurred on the lost boy’s face was practically scary—from a mirthfully savage bitterness to tears, all in a moment. “Ranma didn’t die,” he repeated. “But somebody else did,” Akane breathed. “Who?” She racked her brains for who she hadn’t seen in Nerima lately. “One of the Amazons? Happousai?” Ryoga seized Akane by her upper arms and gazed blazingly into her eyes. With each word he shuddered. “Stop. Playing. Games. This isn’t fair.” Akane blinked. “What?” “You know Akane died!” Ryoga was blubbering now, crying into her shoulder like a lost child, his hands still gripping her for dear life. “She got in the way of that blast... there was nothing we could do...” Akane felt tears well up in her own eyes as a shiver ran up her spine. “But Ryoga... I’m Akane. Ranma’s dead. Remember?” she prodded gently. “I’m right here!” He pulled away, some of the old ferocity back in his eyes; but his voice was soft and broken. “You really think you’re her, don’t you?” he whimpered softly. “This is... too far for a joke, even for you...” It was the last thing he said before he was knocked unconscious. Genma stood above Akane, loomed. His hands were blistered and reddened; with a flash of understanding, Akane realized he must have burned his ropes away. “Cute,” he growled, “but I won’t fall for it.” Akane was about to explain that Ryoga had simply fallen off the deep end when the martial artist attacked. Once again it was all she could do to fend him off, especially in her weakened state. The man had a seemingly infinite capacity for punishment, she reflected as she dodged a sloppy punch. They were both tired, and Akane wasn’t sure how much longer she could stay upright, much less dodge and weave. “Tell me why!” Genma demanded as they circled. “It’s a simple question!” Akane didn’t have it in her to scream back. She replied in a soft, defeated voice. “You heard Ryoga. It was an accident. It’s driven him crazy and brought me close. We didn’t mean to do it! Please, just stop!” “Admit it’s your fault—admit you killed him!” Genma leapt towards her, descending on her from above. It was harder, now. She couldn’t see him from above, not in the darkness. He was right. The aerialist always won the fight, she reflected as she landed heavily several meters away. For the second time that night, Akane felt so emotionally and physically exhausted that she was at her breaking point. “FINE!” she screamed from her position on the ground. “YOU WANT TO HEAR ME ADMIT IT?! I DID IT, OKAY? I MURDERED HER! I DIDN’T MEAN TO, BUT IT WAS STILL ALL MY FAULT! AND I LOVED HER—DESPITE WHAT I SAID TO HER ALL THE TIME!” Akane broke off to take another breath, feeling weak and slightly dizzy. “When... when she stuck her hand out and asked if she wanted to be friends, I thought my troubles were over. But no! YOU had to ENGAGE ME TO FOUR WOMEN and make her HATE ME UNTIL IT WAS TOO LATE!!!!!” Genma stood staring at her blankly, his stance wide open. He stood completely still and completely silent. Akane felt her heart speed—felt her breathing heave in sharp, light breaths. Felt the world fuzz around her. Felt Genma’s hand on her arm. “Ranma?” he asked quietly. “W-what?” Akane blinked, shaking her head. “No...” She felt her body finally give up, the way it had been wanting to for the past eight hours or so, and she slumped against Genma’s arm. “Dad?” she asked in a small voice. Her eyelids fluttered and shut. Genma stared at her crumpled form blankly for a moment before drawing her in. “Son... what’s happened to you?”There was a brief time in which Akane stared over the cliffs towards the rising sun. The light washed everything away. The light should have washed everything away. Should have washed Ranma away. Wasn’t that what she’d wanted? To drown herself in Akane, to kill Ranma in retribution for being so goddamned careless, so incredibly reckless? She’d been angry with the stupid tomboy for being in the way for all of a moment before she’d realized Akane wasn’t getting up again. Would never get up again. Ryoga was like a real lost soul for a while. Wouldn’t eat. Wouldn’t sleep. It was his Shi Shi Hokodan, after all, that had ended her life. But Ranma had known deep down that it was his own fault. It was his job to protect her. How many times had he failed? She couldn’t even remember what they’d been fighting over, now. Something stupid, of course. He could have kicked himself at their wedding. After all those times Akane had begged him to train her, after she’d demanded and pleaded by turns for the better part of a year, he had still refused. And then her lack of sufficient training had almost killed her, that day. He should have always known that being around dangerous martial artists put her in a dangerous position, he’d decreed, and the pair had set off for China to train, far away from prying eyes. Ryoga either popped up the way he often did, or had been following them all along. How many times had he swept her away from danger, only to have her impatient glare demand what had taken him so long? And yet, the moment it mattered, he hadn’t been paying attention—and her life was the price of his carelessness. Just one moment—and three lives went up in smoke. Only, he knew the solution. It took him awhile to figure out, to understand. And then... “Where are you taking her?” Ryoga demanded, roused for the first time since the initial disaster. “The Naniichuan,” Ranma replied, determination in his voice. “To do an experiment.” Ryoga ran at him, not understanding the plan. But he managed to dunk Akane... no, the body... into the spring. His spring. A redhead had popped out. A drenched redhead in Akane’s clothing, but it would have to do. The gears in Ryoga’s mind had begun working, then, and he’d simply waited. Yet when Ranma had walked towards the Akaneniichuan, Ryoga had held him back, demanding an explanation. It’s simple, Ranma’d said to him calmly. We killed Akane. I wasn’t taking care of her. I can’t face her family and mine bringing a dead body home with me. Ranma fixed things the only way he knew how. Without a second thought he abandoned the manhood he prized so highly and dunked himself in the Akane spring. The memories assaulted her, warred with her own until she found herself unable to tell what was the past and what was the present. Akane’s mother. My mother. Akane’s first day of school. My first time in kindergarten. These memories were safe, were solid. Yet the first time Ranma had met Akane... was a blur. A blur of conflicting images, a blur of conflicting thoughts, and a blur of conflicting positions, which translated into an incomprehensible white noise. Ranma had known that it was a mindspring, one that invariably caused a change in personality, like the spring of drowned priest. Ryoga had not. She hadn’t given a damn about that at the time. She demanded, while she was still in a position to demand, that Ryoga find a way to lock the curse and that he refer to her as Akane from then on. Ryoga had agreed, burning with his own shame. Together, they found the ladle, stole it from the Musk, and used it. Ryoga noticed her behavior becoming more and more disturbed, but he probably had assumed she was being eaten alive with guilt, rather than losing herself moment by moment. And then one day she’d woken up—a week after she’d gotten home, to be precise—with no conflicting memories, no white noise. No conflicting emotions. Her mind had not been able to handle the strain of two souls being forced into one body, especially when Ranma was actively attempting to bury himself. She didn’t remember the past six months too well because it had been six months since Akane had nearly drowned at Jhusenkyo. Her thoughts and impressions cut off abruptly at that point, although Ranma’s memories gave her some general impressions. There was a hand on her shoulder; an insistent voice, which Akane ignored. She stared at the sun. The light washed everything away. The light should have washed everything away.
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