At your request, a recap of the events in this timeline:
Ranma and Ryoga were fighting as usual, when Ranma hit his head on a rock in the koi pond. Ranma thought Ryoga had caught his hand to prevent the fall, but that was not the case.
When Ranma awakens, she is in female form and asleep in Akane’s bed. When she searches the Tendo house for someone to figure out what’s going on, she discovers a completely different decor and a child.
Kuno arrives and informs Ranma that the child, Sachiko, is hers. Ranma assumes she’s had the baby with Kuno at first. Once Kuno takes Ranma to Ucchan’s, the two of them inform Ranma that she is now in her twenties and that it is 2004. Ranma passes out.
When Ranma reawakens, she is in Akane’s bed again. Akane is there, and she finally convinces Ranma that what Ukyo and Kuno have said is the truth. Akane explains that Ranma went into a deep depression a long time ago; Ryoga was the only thing that brought her back. Ranma is now married to Ryoga; the baby is theirs.
Ranma panicks and runs off to Ukyo, but Ryoga manages to bring her back. Ryoga makes her promise not to bolt, for one week; Ranma makes him promise not to come after her once she does.
Ranma attempts to recall the past, and tries to figure out if she really is attracted to Ryoga. Both attempts fail.
Ranma comes across a letter from her father saying that he will return to
Nabiki arrives with Sachiko, telling Ranma that her amnesia is probably due to a knock on the head, that she first started acting strange after a knock on the head when she was sixteen, and that she kissed Ryoga right after that injury. Ranma also suddenly recalls certain things about Sachiko, including the baby’s age.
Ranma feeds the baby and is preparing dinner when Ryoga comes home – with a guest.
CHAPTER SEVEN: 2004
A Wedding & a Visitor
Ranma glared daggers at Ryoga. “What the hell?”
“Uh, Ranma, this is my boss, Kenjiro Sanoguchi...”
Ranma peered over her shoulder, assessing the situation. “Your boss?” she inquired hesitantly.
“Uh huh.”
Ranma turned to face them both, untying her apron and laying it across her arm. She bowed respectfully from the waist. “Pleased to meet you, sir.” She offered the older man her cute-as-a-thousand-puppies grin, having made her decision. If she was playing the part of Ryoga’s wife, she’d do it right.
Sanoguchi-san waved away her formality. “Likewise, likewise.” He ribbed Ryoga. “Hey, Hibiki-kun, you never told me you had such a beautiful thing waiting at home!”
Ranma twitched, but the sweet smile she’d pasted across her features scarcely wavered.
“Uh...” Ryoga scrubbed the back of his neck furiously. “Er... let me introduce you to my daughter, Sachiko!” He swept the baby out of her automatic swing and bounced her, walking her to the older man.
Sachiko was obviously well-pleased to see her father. She burbled in child-like delight.
“She looks just like her mommy,” the man commented, with an indulgent smile for the baby. “Where’s your bathroom? I need to wash up after a hard day like today.”
Ranma realized both men were staring at her, Sanoguchi-san’s expression politely inquiring, Ryoga’s verging on pleading.
“Oh!” Ranma exclaimed again. Damn it, I’m beginning to sound like Kasumi. “Ryoga, can you watch the stir-fry? I’ll be right back. It’s this way,” she told the man, taking his arm and leading him upstairs. The moment that Sanoguchi-san had been safely deposited at the bathroom door, she ran back down the stairs and whirled to face Ryoga. “What do you think you’re doing!” she demanded harshly, keeping her voice down to a loud whisper.
“I’m sorry, Ranma. This certainly isn’t the best time, but he followed me home. There was no way I could politely refuse!”
“How about ‘this certainly isn’t the best time’!” Ranma demanded. “He would have understood.”
“You don’t know this man, Ranma. He spends every Friday evening having supper with one of his employees. If I said no...” He shook his head. “I could kiss the promotion goodbye.”
Ranma opened her mouth to retort, when she noticed Sachiko gazing at her with wide, solemn eyes.
“Oh... she thinks we’re arguing.” Ranma reclaimed Sachiko, spinning her in a little circle. “I’m not upset, honey. It’s okay.”
Ryoga smiled at her. “Wow, Ranma,” he said quietly, observing the way the redhead instantly calmed the small child with a grin and a couple of bounces in her arms.
“I even remembered how old she is when Nabiki dropped her off, today,” Ranma replied, just as softly. “I definitely haven’t remembered anything else, so handling her must be instinct.”
“That’s wonderful!” He moved to peer into the frying pan. “I hope that there’s enough for all three of us.”
“I’ll just get a snack after supper,” Ranma said, making faces at the baby. The small child giggled and clapped her hands.
“No, I will. It’s my fault for bringing him home without calling you.”
Ranma turned to glare at him. “I said that I would. If we’re gonna look normal, you’ve gotta eat more than me. Besides, Sachiko’s more of a handful than I thought, but you still worked harder than I did, today...” Ranma blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” Ryoga flinched. “I didn’t mean it to come out like that...”
Ranma shrugged, hefting the baby to avoid having to look at him. “Somehow, today, it struck me that she’s ours – yours and mine. And that means...” She shook her head in consternation. “It means that I honestly loved you at some point.” She sighed heavily, examining at him frankly and openly for the first time she could recall since arriving in this strange new universe called her life. “You didn’t drag me, kicking and screaming, much as... much as I would like that to have been the case. Somebody would have stopped you, or tried – including me. Even if you’d used a love spell or something, Nabiki or Akane would have caught on.” She dropped her gaze, finally, feeling tears catch in her throat. It was all true, everything Akane had told her – and that was painful, given the intensity of her inital objection.
He smiled at her wryly, unaware of her discomfort. “It’s true. If your folks ever found any excuse to prevent us from getting married, I’m guessing they would have used it.”
Ranma issued a small, quiet laugh – and was surprised at herself that she’d gotten to the point where it was even a little funny. “When they couldn’t find anything... other than the obvious... they couldn’t protest and still call themselves family. Could they?”
Ryoga’s concerned eyes met hers. “Something like that...”
Ranma nodded. “Since I can’t remember, I’m going to have to rely on their judgement – and my own. So I can’t just...” treat my husband like crap, she finished mentally. That’s not what wives do. Ranma didn’t like being someone’s wife, but if she had to be, she wanted to be the best – of course. But she wasn’t ready to say that, or anything remotely like that, aloud; not the ‘w’ word.
“I don’t want to rush you,” Ryoga replied quietly. “You don’t know how happy that makes me, though. I... I miss you. Her.” He laughed quietly. “It’s a little confusing. Let’s say I miss the way things used to be.”
“Yeah.” Ranma kissed the top of Sachiko’s head. “You’re the proof, aren’t you, Sa-chan? The proof I need.” She blinked up at Ryoga. “She is yours, isn’t she?”
Ryoga choked on air. “Ranma!”
“Hey, it’s a fair question from someone in my position.”
Ryoga’s shellshocked expression dissipated into a knowing grin. “She sure is something, isn’t she? She’s going to look just like you when she grows up; it’s hard to see much of me. Except for two little things.”
Ranma frowned. “I don’t get it.”
Ryoga lifted his small daughter into his arms, then opened the little girl’s mouth by presenting her his finger, which she immediately began to suckle. “Look.”
Ranma’s eyes widened. “She has two little fangs!”
Ryoga grinned, displaying his own. “Bingo.” He eyed her. “You look beautiful, by the way. When did you get that shirt?”
Ranma pulled away. “Don’t push your luck.”
“Noted.”
Ranma was once again taken aback by his playful attitude with her. She sighed. It was obvious that they had been happy together. It was almost depressing that she couldn’t remember. She turned back to the stir-fry, shifting it rapidly above the flames, hiding her confusion.
“Ahhh, that’s better!” Sanoguchi-san emerged into the kitchen. “When can we expect dinner?”
The redhead started, having completely forgotten about the older man’s presence. “About fifteen minutes,” Ranma replied. “W-why don’t you two play a game of shogi or something while you wait?”
“Sounds like an excellent idea,” the older man announced. “Why, I’ve been known to have a very good hand at shogi.”
Ryoga rolled his eyes suggestively towards Ranma, who grinned at him and winked. Do your best to lose, she mouthed casually, opening the fridge to get the beef she’d just bought. If she could sear it and add it to the vegetables, they’d have enough.
Ranma set out an extra bowl and cup, doing her best to imitate Kasumi’s style. She closed her eyes and pictured Kasumi’s spread. Hmm, the eldest Tendo daughter usually placed some kind of small centerpiece on the table, even if it was only artfully-arranged willow branches. She slipped outside to the Tendo pond and began casting about for something to decorate the table.
The ‘Tendo’ pond. But isn’t it ours? she wondered. Come to think of it, how did that happen? Why didn’t Kasumi or Nabiki stay here? How’d it happen that I’m even teaching classes here? She found some pussywillow branches in soft bloom, and began snapping them off. I’ll bet the baby would like to play with these. A new thought occurred to the redhead. But she’ll put them in her mouth. She puts everything there. Are they poisonous? Better watch her extra-careful.
Once inside, Ranma artfully arranged the branches in a vase full of water and set them on the table. She did her best to imitate Kasumi’s gentle voice when she called the two men to dinner.
“It looks wonderful, Ranma,” Ryoga said, seating himself across from her. Sanoguchi-san sat right next to the redhead, who did her best not to shift away.
Ranma abruptly recalled something else that Kasumi had done with guests, and began to serve the older man stir-fry and rice. She poured some hot sake into his cup and then served her husband. Finally, she piled some food onto her own plate, waiting until Ryoga’s boss swallowed his first bite before slowly eating her own food.
Ryoga was watching her formal motions with bewilderment, but his boss nodded at him in approval. “You’ve got a real sweetheart, here, Ryoga,” he informed the martial artist. “Don’t let this one go.”
“Uh, sure do.” Ryoga’s reply was perfunctory. “Ranma, I put the baby back in her crib,” he added, his voice evincing far greater interest in this development. “She didn’t seem to be hungry, so I figured better to let her sleep.”
“Won’t she wake up in the night?”
“She slept the night through the past week. She might be really hungry when she wakes up, but she should be okay.”
Ranma nodded. “Okay. I’m new at this, you know.”
“Your first kid, huh?” Sanoguchi-san queried. “I remember our first. Poor Noriko-chan was practically pulling her hair out.”
Ryoga laughed. “Yeah, Sachiko’s just beginning to settle down to a routine: usual eating habits, usual sleeping habits. Up until a month ago she was on her own schedule entirely. She had us going to bed at eight, waking up again at one, and then again at four-thirty. Ranma was great about it, though. She was really good-humored about the whole business.” He offered Ranma a reminiscent grin, then shook himself.
He’s obviously remembered I don’t remember. “Yeah, those were the days,” Ranma cut in dryly, covering his sudden surprise.
“The stir-fry is excellent,” Ryoga added, something like apology in his voice.
“Needs salt,” said Sanoguchi-san. Despite the older man’s pronouncement, he was stuffing the food into his face as quickly as it would go.
Ryoga and his boss began to talk lightly about business, something about contracts that Ranma didn’t really understand. Apparently, if someone’s contract wasn’t altered, they were going on strike? Possibly many someones. Ranma wasn’t sure.
After a surprisingly short period of time, Sanoguchi-san’s plate was empty. When Ryoga moved to serve him, he shook his head. “Thank you, I’m quite through. What about dessert, hmm? What are we having?”
Ranma racked her brains. What had she bought? “Uhm, ice cream.”
The other man grunted in approval and handed the empty plate to Ranma.
“Oh. Do you want more?”
“No, I’m done,” he replied.
Ranma stared at the plate in her hands. What does he want me to do with this she wondered.
A small, thin cry sounded from upstairs. “The baby’s awake after all,” she observed. “I’ll be right back.” She rose, still carrying the plate, then dropped it off in the kitchen and headed up the stairs.
Inside Sachiko’s room, the baby was wailing despondently. “Hey! Shhh...” Ranma scooped up the small child. “I thought it was a little too early for your bedtime! And I was right, wasn’t I?”
Sachiko was still crying, but with far less intensity now that her tears had the intended effect of luring her mother to her room. “Wababaaa!” she intoned passionately.
“I see,” Ranma replied. “Food? Dinner time? Is daddy a baka? Yes! Yes he is!”
The baby talk seemed to bring Sachiko the rest of the way out of her funk. “Baka!” she exclaimed with a small giggle.
Ranma stared at her in utter shock. “Didja just say what I think you said?”
“Baka!” Sachiko tried again.
“Yes, you’re real clever!” Ranma announced. Wonderful.
“Bakabakabakabaka!”
“Geez, kiddo. We shoulda named you Akane, huh?”
Sachiko clapped her hands in delight at her own cleverness. “Baaaaaaka.”
“I think we’ve exhausted the term.” She carried the baby downstairs, tossing her up slightly and catching her. “Who’s my smart girl?”
Ryoga grinned as Ranma carried Sachiko into the kitchen. “Has Sachiko learned something new?” he inquired.
“C’mon, Sa-chan. Try again!” Ranma urged.
Sachiko gazed at her father and blinked.
“Oh!” Ranma exclaimed in disappointed surprise. She’d been hoping to get a laugh. Then she was frustrated for sounding like Kasumi again. “She said a word upstairs. Oh, well.”
“Well, I’m certain she’ll say whatever it is when she’s good and ready,” Sanoguchi-san cut in. “And then you won’t be able to stop her from talking! Just like a girl.”
“Baka,” Sachiko pronounced solemnly.
Ryoga’s expression was just as stunned as Ranma had been hoping.
“Baka!” the baby repeated, getting into it.
“Maybe she’s been hanging around Auntie Akane too long,” Ranma opined. “Time to feed the kid. With mashed apples in her mouth, it’ll be harder for her to talk.”
Ryoga moved into the kitchen proper to hand the baby food to Ranma. “I’ll serve the ice cream,” he said in a low voice. “Dessert is less formal; he can’t complain.”
The rest of Sanoguchi-san’s time was spent in the company of Ryoga alone, at the shogi table, for which Ranma was eternally grateful. “He doesn’t like we girls, anyway, does he sweetie?”
“Baka!” Sachiko agreed. She made a grab for the softness of the pussywillows on the table.
“No, Sa-chan. But if you eat all your apples, maybe I’ll give you a little ice cream. What do you think of that?”
Sachiko, who seemed to have grasped the meaning of the word ‘baka’ as well as its sound, did not repeat it at her mother. She grinned a little baby grin, showing off her pointed incisors.
“Right.”
Sanoguchi-san made his way into the kitchen. “Sorry that I’ve got to leave you, Ranma-chan, but Noriko-chan is waiting.”
“Oh, what a shame that you couldn’t stay longer!” Ranma intoned, making her blue eyes wide. “Isn’t that right, Sa-chan?”
“Baka!”
“She’s a cute little thing,” he answered, leaning over the tiny redheaded girl to pat her on the head, “but she’ll be even cuter once she learns a new word.”
Sachiko, who had been mournfully eyeing the pussywillows, caught sight of something new that was fluffy and soft. With a delighted cry, she lunged for and caught hold of the older man’s bad rug.
“Sa-chan, no!” Ranma admonished, pulling it out of her daughter’s fingers with an ungentle tug, prompting Sachiko to burst into frustrated tears. Ranma handed the hairpiece back to its owner in a half-bow. “I’m so sorry!”
Sanoguchi-san was flushed, but he took the antics in good grace, going up in Ranma’s estimation a notch. “Not a problem, Hibiki-chan. She’s a sweetheart, she just doesn’t know what she’s doing.” He reclaimed his hairpiece and his dignity and made his way to the door. “Thank you for a wonderful evening.”
“No problem. Come back any time!” Ranma cried after him. “When hell freezes over,” she added after he’d closed the door completely.
Ryoga slumped down at the table next to her, his head in his hands.
“Oh, Ryoga, don’t take it so bad,” Ranma said sympathetically. “I’ll... I’ll apologize if you want me to.”
Ryoga looked up at her with tears in his eyes. He burst into hysterical laughter.
Ranma examined him doubtfully in the flourescent light of the kitchen. “You... think this is funny?” Somehow she’d expected him to throw a traditional Ryoga rage, or at least a crying bout, along with something about his life being hell and her part in creating said hell.
“Oh, I think it’s hilarious,” Ryoga replied, moving to stand by the startled redhead. He captured the crying baby from Ranma’s arms. “Who’s my little girl?” he inquired of her, tossing her up in the air. “Who’s my little girl?” A couple of repeats of this performance and Sachiko began to smile back at him.
“You are one big troublemaker for such a small thing,” Ranma told her daughter.
Sachiko yawned.
“Are you my sleepy little girl?” Ryoga wanted to know. Sachiko’s eyes were drooping.
“So now that you’ve wreaked havoc, it’s bedtime, is it?”
Ranma looked up from her examination of her daughter’s face to find that she and Ryoga were awfully close together. For a moment, their eyes met; then Ranma pulled away, feeling unhappy and embarrassed.
“I really owe you one for putting up with that jerk tonight,” Ryoga finally whispered, hefting the baby and moving very slowly to the foot of the stairs.
“You sure do,” she replied as they mounted the steps. She watched as Ryoga kept his motion very clean and smooth so as not to jostle the baby to wakefulness.
“What would you like in return?” he inquired.
Ranma blushed, suddenly remembering that she’d left the Annotated Kama Sutra on his bed. Oh, no. “There’s nothing I want from you,” she mumbled hastily, opening Sachiko’s bedroom door.
“Take it easy, Ranma. I’d touch you in a moment if you said you wanted me to, but...” Gently, he lowered his arms to lay Sachiko in her crib, then rapidly slid his arm out from under her. Like a magician whipping the tablecloth off of a table yet leaving the china intact, Ryoga left Sachiko’s sleeping form relatively undisturbed.
She watched him and the baby and nodded, finally. “Yeah. I know, but... you make me nervous...”
Softly, Ryoga closed the door behind Sachiko’s peacefully sleeping form and moved quietly downstairs. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I remembered a little about Sachiko. Maybe I’m worried I’ll remember you.”
“And what then?” he wanted to know.
“Well, and then lose everything that makes me Ranma,” she replied sharply. “Lose me.”
Ryoga moved her into the living room to sit. “You wouldn’t lose that, Ranma. You can’t.”
When she shook her head in disbelief, he sighed. “I wish there was some way of showing you...” His eyes widened. “Wait, I can show you!” He moved to the television. “I know we’ve got some home video, here. Uh, here it is! The wedding.”
Ranma gulped as Ryoga pushed the DVD into the player, then came to join her on the couch.
“Okay... here we go.”
Ranma heard her own voice coming through the television speakers, although the screen was still dark. “Is it on? Think it’s on.” A beautiful redhead who looked pretty much exactly as Ranma remembered herself waved at the camera, suddenly resolving as she retreated from the lens. “Hi, everyone!” she said.
The real Ranma blinked in surprise as she realized that she looked almost exactly the same in the camera as she did just now. So much for growing a couple more centimeters.
“It’s my wedding day!” the redhead added cheerfully. “Can you believe it?”
Nabiki’s voice sounded off-screen. “No.”
Ranma looked behind herself nervously. “Heh heh. Right. No one can. Me least of all. Anyway, thought I’d be marrying a girl at least.”
“Shut up, Ranma!” That sounded like Akane’s voice.
“Yeah. Anyway... it’s because he got me knocked up, the bastard...”
Several things were thrown at the redhead from off-screen, who ducked expertly. “Oh, all right. It’s really ‘cause he used these magical love arrows on me...”
Akane snuck up behind the redhead and hit her with something. It looked like a bouquet.
“Ite! Oh, all right. I just... I love him... that’s all.” She blushed and shifted her feet. “Ain’t that enough? I know we’ll be happy together. I’m one-hundred percent sure we’ll be happy...” She paused. “Mou, I can’t say anything right when I want to!” She stomped agitatedly off-camera.
Ryoga turned to Ranma on the couch. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before. Maybe it’ll jog something.”
Ranma nodded, spellbound by the nervous redhead who looked, spoke and... and behaved exactly as she did. She had understandably gotten the impression that there had been some kind of huge alteration in the way she thought, moved, was. But the on-screen redhead was exhibiting no signs of being anyone other than Saotome Ranma.
“Why?” Ranma was asking. “What do you mean, ‘why’?”
Someone off-camera repeated the question. Whatever it was, it was too low to hear.
She paused to consider. “Huh. Well, uh... lessie. He’s the only one who comes close to me in martial arts... uh, he’s nice... and real cute. And dependable, once you attach a tracking device.”
Laughter sounded from off-screen.
“And, uh... he smells good. And holds me tight. And kisses like he was born knowing how.” She grinned reminiscently.
Ranma turned to gaze speculatively at Ryoga before catching herself and whipping around to view the screen.
“Hope that’s not all he does!” Nabiki jibed.
The camera cut off, and there was a moment of blackness. When it switched back on, Ranma was adjusting a western-style wedding dress around her hips. “This is the weirdest bit of cross-dressing I’ve ever done,” she announced. Her eyes suddenly latched onto the videocamera. “Damn it, is that thing on?”
Akane came on screen, looking up at Ranma. “You... you really look good,” she said with obviously mixed emotions.
“Thank you, Akane,” Ranma replied. “You’ll look even better in yours someday.”
Akane thanked her and moved offscreen faster than looked completely natural.
Ranma wondered what it would be like to be Akane in this situation; she decided that the normally volatile girl was doing loads better than she would have thought. Then again, it was two years later, and changes were easier to see in Akane. The dark-haired girl had obviously grown taller and a bit larger in the bust. At eighteen, Akane was a stunning example of an athletic woman. She had to have changed in ways other than the physical, though, in order to be holding her temper in this situation.
To Ranma’s surprise, Nodoka entered the dressing room next, crying and looking proud. She was handing her daughter a woven necklace, an armband, a tiara, and a pair of earrings. “They’re beautiful,” Ranma said, adjusting the earrings, which practically fell to her shoulders. They were made of very small, intricate dark grey chains, which offset the color of her hair nicely. “You didn’t have to.”
“Yes, I did,” Nodoka replied, adjusting the tiara over Ranma’s veil. “They’re made from the family’s honor sword. I had it melted down.”
The on-screen redhead’s eyes widened and filled with tears. “Momma!” she exclaimed, and threw her arms around the Saotome matriarch.
“There, there, dear, I wouldn’t want to mess up your makeup,” Nodoka intoned, but her grip around her daughter was fierce. “Don’t lose them.”
Ranma shook her head vehemently.
“It’s time, Ranma,” Kasumi said.
“Uh... okay.” Ranma moved to stand by the doors, claiming her flowers from Akane and swallowing visibly. Nodoka kissed her on the cheek, whispered something in her ear, and moved quickly off-camera.
“Tell me the truth, Nabiki,” the redhead said as Nodoka exited. “Does all this iron look dumb?”
Nabiki appraised her critically. “You look somewhat medieval. Dumb doesn’t enter into it.”
“Guess he isn’t coming,” the on-screen redhead added, a little sadly.
“No offense, Ranma, but what did you expect?” Nabiki inquired, making last-second touches to Ranma’s makeup and pulling a couple of strands free of her hairdo.
“Who’re they talking about?” Ranma whispered.
“Hush,” said Ryoga.
“Wait! I’m here, I’m here!”
Ranma blinked as a black-suited Genma slid on-screen. “Uh, sorry, lots of traffic, you know how it is.”
The Ranma in the white dress blinked. “Pops?” she queried, a small, surprised quaver in her voice.
He nodded, looking sheepish. “Yeah. Ready to go?”
“You’re here!”
“So it appears.” He eyed her. “You look... medieval.”
“So I’m told.” Ranma offered him her arm. “Let’s do this.”
The camera winked out again, and winked back on from a different viewpoint. Now Ranma and Ryoga were watching the wedding from the perspective of the front of a small church. Ranma scanned the audience for faces she recognized and found Shampoo, Cologne, Ukyo, the Tendo girls minus Nabiki, and two people she vaguely recalled as Ryoga’s parents. Her own mother was also in the audience, beaming and winking at her daughter, her eyes full of tears, her handkerchief in one trembling hand.
The real Ryoga hit the pause button on the remote. “Bring back any memories?”
“No,” Ranma replied, a little shakily. It was more than slightly strange to watch herself do things she didn’t recall doing.
Ryoga hit the play button again.
The camera refocused, bringing Ranma and Ryoga’s faces to the forefront. Both were blushing, but neither looked exactly nervous. The redhead was looking up at Ryoga with a small, secret, and unthinkingly sexy little grin; Ryoga was smiling himself, pale except for a bright spot of color on each cheek. Although his ever-present bandanna was missing, his bowtie had the same pattern. Ranma and Ryoga had opted for the simplest of vows, and the ceremony was over relatively quickly.
Ranma forced herself to keep her eyes open as Ryoga lifted her counterpart’s veil, laying it back like gossamer over the tiara her mother had given her. He leaned in, his lids heavy. She tilted her head back, ready to receive him. For a moment, any tension they’d had disappeared as they melted into one another, Ryoga’s hands strong against her back. Then they parted, slowly, eyes opening regretfully, as if neither wanted to remember that they had an audience.
The entire church broke into cheers and applause. Ranma could make out someone cheering her specifically, but she didn’t recognize the voice.
Shortly thereafter, the tape cut to the reception. The two of them were dancing the first dance together. Boring, Ranma thought. The more interesting slow dance was the one between she and her father. Her lips were moving the whole time, with occasional spurts of conversation on her father’s part. It was too bad the camera was so far away; the redhead would have really liked to hear that conversation.
The camera flipped off to refocus on Ryoga, who had loosened his bow tie and undone the first button of his dress shirt. “Why?” he repeated. “That’s a hard question. I mean, why do you like chocolate ice cream?”
Nabiki giggled. She sounded more than a little drunk. “All I’m asking is for you to name her good points. That can’t be all that hard.”
Ryoga blushed and smiled. “No... it’s not. Uh... lessie.”
“Sure took you awhile, huh?” Ranma asked him.
Ryoga shook his head and grimaced. “Can’t you see I was three sheets to the wind?”
“She’s the best martial artist I know,” he said first.
“Birds of a feather,” Ryoga intoned, jabbing at Ranma’s shoulder. “We both named the same thing first.”
“Uh... she’s really pretty. Never goes easy on me, always a challenge. Cute, especially when she’s trying hardest to be macho. Lots of honor, never lies on purpose.” The on-screen Ryoga paused, rubbed his chin. “Once, she kept a secret of mine long after she should have – because of honor.”
“But you two haven’t always been on the best of terms...” Nabiki put in delicately.
Ryoga waved that away. “Ranma w’s always nice to me... even when I didn’t know she was being nice... and I loved her longer than I thought.”
Ryoga hit the stop button. “Man, I don’t remember saying that. I must’ve been seriously drunk.”
Ranma got a sudden and very disconcerting thought. “Were you saying what I think you were saying?”
Ryoga shook his head rapidly, his eyes widening as he caught the implication. “I never felt anything for you until you hit your head in the pond, I swear,” he replied. “Maybe I was referring to that time you pretended to be my fiancee.”
“Or that time with the koi rod,” Ranma reminded him.
“That was you liking me,” Ryoga protested, “not the other way around.”
“I can’t get over that, though. You actually tried to kill me!”
“Maybe I was ‘protesting too much’?” Ryoga quoted wryly.
“Eww.”
“C’mon, Ranma, think back. Put yourself in my shoes. If a beautiful girl is throwing herself at you...”
“I guess you wouldn’t have been a teenage boy if I hadn’t turned you on at least a little,” Ranma admitted. She lifted her arms over her head and struck a sexy pose. “Hell, you wouldn’t have had a beating heart if you weren’t turned on by this!”
“Uh huh,” Ryoga teased. “I just couldn’t keep my hands off you.”
Ranma smirked, seeing the humor in the fiasco for the first time. “Sure. You should’ve seen your face. You were scared to death...”
“Maybe scared that if you did manage to catch me, I’d be in serious trouble.”
Ranma shivered theatrically. “Let’s not think about that. It still gives me the willies that you were willing to use that stupid thing on anyone.”
“It’s not like I thought it would work,” Ryoga protested. “Besides, that’s not what freaks me out.”
“What does?” Ranma inquired, slumping back into the comfy couch. “The fact that you fell for me eventually anyway?”
“No,” he said, “the fact that there were at least two dozen more fishing rods at the store where I bought mine.”
“Okay now, that’s gonna keep me up nights.”
“No kidding.”
Ranma smirked. “Does this sound familiar? ‘Oh, Ryoga!’” whispered in adoring tones. “’If I die, will it make you happy?’”
“Shut up, Ranma!” Ryoga growled. “You’re giving me the creeps!”
“’Make it quick...!’” she whispered dramatically, and dropped off the couch like a stone.
“Ranma...?” Ryoga leaned over to view her. “Ranma?”
The redhead grabbed him by the collar with a maniacal grin. “Bwwaah ha ha!” she announced, pulling him down and kicking him.
“Stop it!”
“Make me,” she replied, straddling him.
“Ranma, I wanna get up.”
“No.”
Ryoga squirmed under her. “Move.”
“Make me,” she repeated.
“Fine, but you asked for it.” He grabbed her wrists and flipped the two of them over so that he was straddling her. Then the grin slowly disappeared from his features.
“What?” Ranma blinked up at him.
He shook his head, his eyes closing as if he didn’t want to look at her.
“What!” she repeated.
Ryoga’s eyes opened slowly, cautiously, as he turned to look at her. He appeared to be examining her features, his gaze torn between wonderment and some mysterious pain.
“R-Ryoga?” she stammered. “Did I... are you hurt?”
The front door opened, admitting the Tendo girls.
“Oh, my!” Kasumi exclaimed. “Have we interrupted something?”
Author’s Notes:
Yes, I want to let you know that Ranma’s ‘proper wife’ behaviour won’t last. Thank goodness. I wanted to toss that in because I know that some people (most?) probably cringed inwardly at her behavior in much of this chapter. I would say that part of the reason she was so resistant to accept the role of wife – a big part – was due to the fact that, to Ranma, the role means being completely subservient, kind of like Kasumi on downers.
Ranma’s weird perceptions of female roles are always interesting to play with. Part of the reason I wanted to do this story in the first place was to smash Ranma’s misconceptions about women one at a time, with the help of a more-mature and far calmer Ryoga-kun.
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