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. Ryoga thought he had caught Ranma’s hand to prevent the fall, which looked nasty, but that was not the case.
Ryoga, despondent because of Akane’s ire, visited Ranma. Once Ranma woke up, she babbled seemingly incoherently, then kissed him in full view of Nabiki. Because of some quick thinking and a lot of luck, Ryoga managed to keep this a secret from all but Nabiki and Ukyo. The last thing he wants is Akane to know anything about this!
Nabiki observed that Ranma is very different from the Ranma she knows and l-... well, okay... tolerates... when she talked to Ranma that night.
Ranma taunted Kuno in new and ingenious ways, namely with his hair. (Don’t ask, just read.)
Akane noticed the alteration in Ranma as well, calling this new Ranma ‘sneaky’, or maybe it’s that he’s more mature?
Ranma goes to the Cat Cafe to talk to
Ranma and Akane meet up with Ryoga on the way home, who adopts a don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy concerning their kiss. Ryoga slightly alters his perceptions about Ranma’s girl form, and Akane asks Ryoga to stay for supper.
Ranma wastes no time in following
Strangely, Ranma’s ‘memory’ of the future is shifting.
CHAPTER EIGHT: 1998
Losing
It took Nabiki five or ten minutes of deep breathing and some calm reflection before she felt she could descend the stairs as though nothing had happened between she and this new Ranma. She was a gossipmonger by nature, and found herself practically buzzing with all of the new information he’d given her, but somehow she would have to keep it all to herself. This was not beyond her powers, but it certainly stretched them, given her... tendencies.
When Nabiki practically flew down the stairs, she was met by an odd sight. Ryoga, Akane and Ranma were all sitting at the kitchen table.
No one was hitting or insulting the other.
“...where you’d been?” Akane was saying.
Ranma shrugged. “Felt like some alone time.”
Nabiki wanted to slap him. That doesn’t sound like you at all, idiot. If you want to keep secrets, you have to act like nothing’s changed.
“Whatever,” Akane replied with a wave of her hand.
“So, uh, A-Akane,” Ryoga stammered. “There’s a... a fair coming to town tomorrow...”
Akane grinned. “Oh, yeah! I know.”
“Were you p-planning on g-going?”
“Of course!” Akane announced. “The signs have been up for weeks, building the anticipation, you know?” She winked.
Ryoga flushed bright red. “S-so, you’ve got plans already.”
Akane smiled gently. “Not anything set in stone. Why, did you want to go?”
Nabiki’s eyes slid to Ranma who, by all rights, should have come in at this point, guns blazing. Or the fist equivalent. Come to think of it, even this new Ranma should be upset, if for a different reason.
Ranma had a curiously blank expression on his face. It made Nabiki wonder if he was even paying attention.
“Oh, yes, if you do!” Ryoga gushed.
“Sure!” Akane replied with a slightly nervous smile at the Lost Boy’s level of enthusiasm. “You can come with me and Ranma!”
Ryoga froze, Ranma unfroze and Akane appeared confused. Nabiki smiled quietly to herself. Ranma had expected that, but hadn’t been quite certain: she watched as Ranma’s shoulders relaxed. “Yeah, pig-boy, we don’t mind having you along. After all, we’re friends, right?”
Ryoga grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like an expletive.
Somehow, to Nabiki’s ears, Ranma didn’t exactly sound like someone addressing a spouse. “I’ll come too,” Nabiki suddenly announced.
Mou. Why’d I do that? Kami-sama knows it’ll cost money to get in; and I’ll end up paying for something in lieu of somebody else; and there will be some outrageous martial arts battle, just because... hmm, maybe I can turn it into an attraction and charge admission!
Ranma’s smile was answer enough. “Sure! Maybe Kasumi wants to go!”
When Kasumi entered, carrying a heavy platter of some kind, Soun and Genma seemed to magically appear. With Ryoga as the guest, there was just enough room for everyone to crowd around the table.
“So, Kasumi,” Ranma began, lowering his chopsticks to his meal, “we’re going to that fair tomorrow. Feel like coming with us?”
Kasumi blinked, almost losing her grip on the ladle which she was using to serve the soup. “M-me?”
“Sure!” Ranma enthused. “We’d like to have you along, right?”
The other teens at the table were rapid in their agreement.
Kasumi served her own soup last, then sat down; after a brief, puzzled look crossed her features, she awarded them with a gentle smile. “Certainly I’d like to go!”
“Wonderful,” Ranma replied. He gazed down at his plate, which had nothing on it but traces of sauce. He turned to his father, who was looking innocent.
“That’s not like you, boy,” Genma intoned. “A martial artist must always be prepared!”
“Yadda yadda yadda,” Ranma replied, sipping his soup. “Blah blah blah.”
“How dare you insult my training methods?” Genma demanded, his mouth full of sukiyaki. “I have made you what you are today, boy!”
Ranma smiled at him; rather sweetly, Nabiki thought. “Sure have. A misogynistic obsessive ailurophobe!”
Kasumi’s spoon clattered into her soup.
“What’s misogynistic?” Akane whispered to Ryoga.
“What’s ailurophobe?” Ryoga demanded back.
Nabiki sipped her soup calmly. “Ranma, don’t insult your father like that,” she cut in.
Ranma’s severe, angry expression dissipated like mist on a hot day. “Uh... r-right,” he whispered, and dove once again into his soup.
Once dinner was finished, Soun and Genma dove for the family dictionary, flipping through it quickly.
Kasumi, doing her best to ignore the fathers as usual, rose and began clearing the table.
“Ah! Er, we’ll help!” Ranma announced, getting to his feet. He nudged Akane forcefully. “Right?”
Akane stiffened and rose as well. “Oh! Uh, right!”
She and Ranma began carrying dishes into the kitchen.
“That’s perfectly all right,” Kasumi protested. “You two have schoolwork and other such things to do, don’t you? Besides, it’s rude to be inattentive to your...”
Ryoga entered the kitchen carrying the large platter.
“...guest,” Kasumi finished, something like incredulity on her face.
“I’m sure you have things you’d rather be doing, too,” Ranma replied, “but if you’re clearing the table then so am I.”
Kasumi’s lips twitched up into the biggest smile he’d ever seen. “Ranma...” Tears gathered in her eyes.
“Eep!” Ranma murmured. “Kasumi... if I’d known it’d mean this much to you, then...”
“No... no, it’s not that!” Kasumi exclaimed. “I’m sorry. I’m being silly. Excuse me...” She wandered off upstairs.
“What was that all about?”
Ranma was surprised to note that Ryoga was standing beside him, a concerned expression on his face.
“You didn’t make my sister cry, did you, Ranma?” Akane demanded.
“I don’t know what I said or did,” Ranma replied. “I’m gonna go talk to her. Do you two mind taking it from here?”
Akane shook her head; Ryoga was a heartbeat behind.
“Okay, be right back.” Ranma flew up the stairs.
He could tell Kasumi was in tears before he opened her bedroom door. He didn’t knock; immediately he realized that he should have, because the hurt and wild expression she gave him before wiping her tears and forcing her features into the semblance of a smile cut him deeply.
“R-Ranma,” Kasumi greeted him. “I’m sorry. You still need help downstairs. You don’t know where everything goes...”
“I know where everything goes. Sit back down.”
Kasumi sat, looking surprised at his direct order, and possibly surprised that she’d obeyed it. “Ano...”
Ranma sat next to her on the bed, causing Kasumi to flush nervously. “Ranma... that’s my bed... and...”
The martial artist shrugged. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Kasumi flinched. “I would never think that! You, of all people wouldn’t... but...” She flushed in frustrated agitation.
“I’m making you nervous, aren’t I?” He rose and sat across from her on a small, plush chair. He gazed around her room; so neat, so well-kept... even sterile. There weren’t even any stuffed animals on the bed. A small vase of fresh flowers by the window was the only indication that this wasn’t the guest room he remembered it to be.
Kasumi wiped her eyes absently, watching Ranma peer around as though he’d never been in her room before. She blinked, puzzled. Had he? Well... of course. He had to have been. He’d lived in the house nearly a year, now.
“You wanna start, or should I?”
“Pardon?”
“You don’t cry because someone helps you with the dishes, Kasumi. I may be clueless, but even I know that.”
A ghost of a smile appeared on the older girl’s face. “That’s so, Ranma. But I don’t think I should speak about this; least of all to you. It may be something that only another woman would understand.”
“Maybe mom, then,” Ranma suggested.
“I doubt such a... traditional woman would understand...” Kasumi whispered, her face heating.
“Ah, it’s over a guy, huh?” Ranma prodded knowingly.
Kasumi’s blush intensified. “Ranma...”
“All right, all right.” Ranma rose. “But honestly, who am I gonna tell?” He moved to the door.
“Ranma!”
Ranma froze with one hand on the doorknob. “Yeah?”
“I... I do need to tell someone...”
Ranma’s eyes softened, and he moved to the chair, leaning forward slightly and looking at her so intently that Kasumi flushed.
“I know why... Tofu-sensei is gone...”
Ranma straightened in surprise, which was quickly swept away in an expression that Kasumi couldn’t interpret. He almost looked – relieved. But that couldn’t be right. “He and I...” Kasumi’s eyes closed tightly. “I’m just so selfish!”
“That’s the farthest thing from what you are.”
“I just thought I could make him act normal, if I got him...” She gulped. “Really, really drunk...”
“...so you did,” Ranma went on in a soft, slightly querying voice, “but in the morning he was just the same as ever?”
Kasumi froze. “Kami-sama above. Does everyone know?”
Ranma shook his head. “No, of course not, Kasumi. So you’re a married woman now, is that it?”
“Is it written on my face?” Kasumi implored. “Oh, Ranma, if Daddy ever found out...”
“Did you get the divorce yet?”
“Divorce?” Kasumi straightened. “He disappeared; he didn’t leave me any divorce papers.”
Ranma smiled. “It isn’t written anywhere on you, Kasumi. You’re the best gal at keeping a secret I ever knew. It’s just this side-effect of my bein’ knocked on the head.”
“Side-effect? You mean you’re telepathic, now?”
Ranma shrugged uncomfortably. “Not exactly. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t going crazy, though, so I asked.” He offered her a watery smile. “Anyway, it seems like I was right, so... I’m sorry about Tofu. He’s a cowardly jerk... I know he loved you, but he just can’t get it together. Don’t worry about this, Kasumi. You’re still just a kid, you’ll find someone else.”
Kasumi pondered this for a moment. “Thank you, Ranma. This makes my problem seem slightly... less severe.”
“Thanks, I think.”
Kasumi stood. “My goodness, I think I’m shocked out of my depression altogether!”
Ranma laughed aloud. “Glad to be of service.”
Kasumi patted him on the head. “You’re a darling.” Her hands lingered, running through his now-short hair.
“Kasumi?”
“It’s a mess,” she said. “Don’t tell me you cut it yourself?”
Ranma shrugged. “Felt like a change,” he lied, unconsciously imitating his fiancée.
Kasumi shook her head. “Well, it won’t do. Let me get my scissors; I’ll even it out for you.”
Downstairs, Akane and Ryoga were just finishing up with the dishes. Ryoga could scarcely believe his own luck. Here he was – just he and Akane – and Ranma had left them alone together to do something companionable.
It was like some kind of airy dream.
Not to mention the fact that Ranma had been a lot nicer, lately; not just to him, he sensed, but to everyone. It was more than a little weird. But who was he to question anything that brought he and his beloved closer together?
Washing dishes together... Ryoga grinned. It’s almost like we’re... married!
Ranma pulled Akane away from him by the waist. “All right, Akane, you’ve done enough!”
Akane pouted slightly, but Ryoga could tell it was for effect. And what was with the way Ranma kept touching her all the time, these days!
“If you insist,” Akane was saying. “Just like you to show up when we’re about done, though.”
Ranma jerked his head in the direction of the stairs. “A little more important, don’t you think?”
Akane rolled her eyes. “If I’m supposed to know when you’re kidding, you’re definitely supposed to know when I am!”
Ranma scowled. “Aw, spoil my fun.” He accepted the dish Ryoga was holding and began to dry it.
Ryoga, who had been holding the dish out to Akane, felt the beginnings of a dark depression creep up on him.
Akane perched on one of the counters to watch them work. “So when should we meet up for the fair?”
Ryoga blinked. He hadn’t thought of that. How he was going to make it he couldn’t begin to fathom. Perhaps he could ask Akane to lead him to Ucchan’s, and then stay there for the night? And then, after that, ask Ukyo to lead him to the fair?
Wait. Wouldn’t that seem like a double-date? And wouldn’t Akane wonder if he asked to be dropped at Ukyo’s to sleep over? He shook his head slightly in negation. That wouldn’t do.
“Ryoga, how’s that for you?” Akane inquired.
“Huh?”
Ranma nudged him. “You awake?”
Ryoga realized that he had stopped washing, and began scrubbing industriously. “Uh... how’s what for me?”
Akane blinked. “Are you even listening? I said how about if we head out for the fair right after supper? Like, seven-thirty or so?”
Ryoga nodded. “I’ll make it,” he vowed.
“Oh!” Akane exclaimed. “That’s right! I keep forgetting about your little problem.”
“Akane, that’s rude,” Ranma said, speaking up finally. “You know about his thing with directions. Don’t make it harder than it is.”
Akane huffed. “I was trying to be nice! And trying to segue into asking Ryoga if he wanted to stay over again!”
Ranma shook his head. “No. He can’t.”
“It isn’t for you to say,” Akane reminded him. “Unless you’ve forgotten, this is my house, not yours.”
Ranma chuckled. “Whatever you say.”
“Don’t treat Akane like that!” Ryoga growled, punching Ranma in the arm.
“I mean, I’ve been living here for, what? A year and a half?”
Akane stared at him, a small frown creasing her brow. “Don’t exaggerate. It’s been less than a year, Ranma.”
“Oh... uh, right,” Ranma replied, frowning in concentration. “Anyway, when does it become my house, too?”
Ryoga felt like rubbing his hands together. It seemed like a pretty harsh argument, if not one of their usual ones where they simply exchanged insults.
But Akane was pausing to consider Ranma’s words. “Well, I guess you’re right,” she admitted. “I mean, you do live here.”
“So am I staying the night, or what?” Ryoga growled.
“Yes!” Akane said.
“No!” Ranma said at precisely the same moment.
“I don’t know why you think Ryoga shouldn’t!” Akane declared. “If you’re his friend, then you of all people should be sympathetic to the fact that he won’t be here tomorrow if you kick him out! There’s nothing he can do about it!”
“I’m not sympathetic because I know he can take care of himself!” Ranma shot back. “He’s not some little kid who needs watching, Akane! He’s a man, a guy, and he doesn’t need your help!”
This was shaping up to fit into a category that Ryoga Hibiki labeled as ‘odd’. Ranma and Akane had fought about him before, but somehow this didn’t have the same feel. Moreover, other than repeating that Ranma shouldn’t treat Akane like that, he didn’t know what to say; especially when Ranma was essentially calling him ‘capable’. Which no one had called him so far as he could remember. He knew he was considered stupid or witless or inattentive because he couldn’t find his way.
“Helping someone out doesn’t take anything away from them!”
Ranma paused. “What did you just say?”
“Just because I’m helping Ryoga doesn’t mean I think any less of him. He’s my friend, and if you weren’t so stupid-jealous, you’d see that!”
Ryoga wanted popcorn. This was getting good.
“It’s not you I’m worried about!” Ranma finally said, but with less conviction than before.
“What are you saying?” Ryoga demanded, finally reaching an ‘in’ point in the squabble. “That you think I’d... without permission!”
“Two words for you, buddy. Koi. Rod.”
Ryoga screamed at the top of his lungs. “I’m NEVER... GOING... TO LIVE... THAT DOWN!”
“No shit, Sherlock,” Ranma replied, obviously calming. “It was stupid, and it set you back, like, eons just on general principle.”
Akane recalled the incident and gulped. “You don’t think Ryoga’s going to try something with you... do you, Ranma?”
The two boys froze.
“What do you know?” Ranma demanded.
“How much did you see?” Ryoga said atop Ranma’s comment.
Akane looked confused. “Well... everything,” she replied, still under the impression that they were discussing how she’d walked in on them in Ryoga’s tent, obviously getting ready for some heavy petting.1
“’Everything’, she says,” Ryoga breathed, feeling his entire world shatter around him.
“Relax, buddy, no she didn’t,” Ranma countered, regaining himself.
“No, it’s true,” Akane whispered. “You had your top off and everything.”
This brought Ryoga up short. “Wait. Huh?”
“Koi. Rod,” Ranma repeated.
He’s enjoying watching me squirm! Ryoga realized. “Oh, right, back then. That biiiig misunderstanding.”
“Riiiight,” Akane drawled. “Anyway... what were we talking about?”
“Aw, let ‘im stay over. It ain’t like I really care,” Ranma suddenly announced.
“Then what was all of this nonsense about!” Ryoga demanded.
Ranma shrugged. “Whatever. Listen, I got homework. You two crazy kids have a good time.” He meandered into the room he shared with Genma and slammed the door.
“Ranma,” Akane breathed.
Ryoga growled to himself. “What is with him!” He turned to Akane. “You wait there. I won’t stand for this!”
“Ryoga, he’s just-” Akane began, trailing after him. “Wait for me when I’m talking to you!”
Ryoga had already pulled Ranma from his room. “Stop moping and fight!” he announced, dragging Ranma outside.
Akane began to emit a red aura. “I said stop and I meant it! Don’t you two ever listen!”
Ryoga, who had his fist cocked back to punch the other martial artist, froze. He had just promised Akane to not fight Ranma seriously.
That was when he noticed that the boy whose collar he was holding had his eyes tightly closed and a casual hand rising to block the punch he knew was coming.
A chain reaction began in Ryoga’s brain. Ranma wasn’t going to fight him back? He was just going to stand there and take the hit? What could that possibly mean? Unconsciously, his arm began to lower. What the hell was wrong with Ranma, anyway? Did he think he deserved the hit? Was that why? He’d seen Ranma do this when Akane took out her mallet and...
The arm dropped. When Akane hits him, he does this. Akane. Not me.
One of Ranma’s tightly closed eyes opened slightly to view Ryoga’s puzzled face. The hit he’d been expecting had halted for some unknown reason. He stared at Ryoga, wondering when the pain was going to arrive, his expression sorrowful rather than angry.
Ryoga gulped, because in that moment, the moment that Ranma’s eyes had met his, he realized that there was no malice in them – not anymore. Not even Ranma’s usual brash stubbornness reflected there – no defiance, no anger. They just met his with a quiet intensity and a dark depression that rivaled any he’d ever experienced himself – but even more, there was more there, a depth that Ryoga couldn’t quite interpret.
Ryoga suddenly released his hold on Ranma’s collar. The other martial artist dropped like a stone.
Ryoga began to back away from him. He didn’t know what it was that he’d seen in Ranma’s eyes – except that they were knowing. They knew him, understood him in a way that was... that was impossible, coming from Ranma.
And worst of all, they… they forgave him.
Ranma, what’s the matter with you!
Akane flew to Ryoga’s side. “Thank you! I know that I can’t stop you two fighting forever, but please try to remember your promise to me, okay? Just spar for awhile. All right?”
Ryoga scarcely heard the words, but he was nodding absently in response. He watched with haunted eyes as Ranma stood and made his way back into his room without so much as a word.
“What the hell was that about, boy?”
Ranma jumped slightly. He hadn’t even noticed that his father was ready for bed, his futon out. “What was what about?”
Genma rolled his eyes. “You and the Hibiki boy. And that stupid comment at dinner.”
Ranma shrugged. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about with Ryoga. As far as the comment goes, what can I say? It’s true.”
“Ranma – I modeled you into the best martial artist of your generation. What more can you ask of me than that?”
The young man grabbed his bedroll and began undoing the ties. “I dunno. I guess you did the best you could. That is all I can ask.”
Genma’s expression shifted to worry. “You can’t call yourself a misogynist with four fiancées!”
Ranma chuckled. “Yes, I can. ‘Girls are stupid, weak, and a distraction from the art.’”2
“Yes, and?”
“And I am a girl half the time,” Ranma supplied. “Duh. So does that mean I become an idiot when I get splashed with cold water?”
“Of course not,” Genma replied. “What’s this all about?”
“Yeah, but that’s the way I think of girls. I can’t help it. It’s the way I think about me, when I happen to be one.”
Genma was silent for a moment. “You’re the first to say that you’re a man in both forms, Ranma.” He stroked his chin. “Therefore, you’re never useless and weak.”
“The reason I say that so much is that I’m freaked out,” Ranma supplied passionlessly, unrolling the soft cushiony material and smoothing it flat. “’Course I’m a girl when I’m a girl. What else would I be? When I’m female, I’ve got girl parts, girl brain, girl everything.”
“How dare you say such a thing? Oh, the son I’ve raised is–”
“Stuff it,” Ranma ordered harshly. “I’m just giving it to you straight. Geez, I thought an old liar like you might appreciate it.” Ranma threw off his shirt and crawled into the bedroll.
“You’re telling me that you think you’re stupid and weak because I told you that girls are stupid and weak?”
Ranma didn’t reply; he merely shifted slightly. The crinkle of cloth on cloth was heard.
“But you’re not a girl...”
Ranma turned over so that he wasn’t facing his father.
“Ranma, say something! If you tell me you’re a girl half the time, whatever will I do about Nodoka?”
Ranma turned on his side and stared at his father. “Pops. I’m a girl half the time.”
Genma gulped, wiping his sweat-laden brow. “But all this time... going on and on about your manhood...”
“It was a lie, all right? An especially dumb one, considering the circumstances.” Ranma’s intense blue eyes finally shifted away from his father’s, giving the older man a palpable feeling of relief. “When I’m a girl, I’m a girl. I like looking nice, like eating parfaits, like hanging with Akane without as much... tension...”
Genma was shaking his head with each pronouncement.
“...like finding out another one of those girl-mysteries... that most guys’ll never even realize are there. Come on, you have to have noticed the way I act as a girl ain’t the way I act as a boy. You’re not half the idiot you pretend to be.”
“I’m what!” Genma demanded, pressing his hands to his ears. “I’m not liiistening...”
“Okay. Fine. Whatever. We have our first heart-to-heart talk in... lessie... ever, and you won’t even hear me out! I don’t know what I expected. You’re useless. Totally useless.”
“Where’d you learn to be so vicious? I didn’t teach you that. What happened to you?”
Ranma’s expression of cruel triumph fell away from his face, leaving something infinitely sadder behind. “I got older,” he replied.
Ryoga put his hand to his forehead. “Damn it.”
These were the facts: it was one in the morning. He was badly in need of the Tendo bathroom. He was directionally blighted.
Draw your conclusions from there.
A brilliant half-moon was shining through the windows, faintly illuminating the entire household. It was stunningly bright and large and beautiful, but Ryoga had no attention to spare it. He was doing his best to recall where the bathroom actually was. However, he couldn’t summon a mental picture of the house at all. It seemed like the rooms were in a different place each time. For instance, here was the kitchen, when he could have sworn that it was upstairs next to Akane’s room.
Ryoga drew up short. Standing in shadow, her shoulders hunched and her forearms resting on the kitchen counter, was Akane. Her entire posture was one of dejection, and... and was that crying?
Ranma did something to her! That jerk! He’ll pay for this no matter... how much... it’ll hurt Akane? Mou... if only she came to realize what a bastard he is!
Akane had a glass of water in front of her, and appeared to be drinking it to get rid of raw, sob-induced hiccoughs. Every now and then she’d take a slow sip of the water, but it was obvious she was having a hard time halting her own tears. Ryoga didn’t know what to do. He wanted to take her in his arms, but he was afraid Akane would think that Ranma was right: that he was trying to take advantage of her in her time of sorrow.
Gulping and cursing himself for a coward, he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other. He reached out for her shoulder and squeezed in a way that he hoped was comforting.
Ranma whirled around to face him, a gasp on her lips, her hand over her heart. “Geez! Y-you scared me...” She paused. “On second thought, the hiccoughs are gone, so maybe I should say thanks.”
Ryoga swallowed past a sudden lump in his throat. “R-Ranma?”
“The one and only.” Ranma’s eyes widened, causing two more tears to spill from her eyes. “The hair! You thought I was Akane.” Her fingers swept through her now very-short, boyish cut, which looked dark in the dim light of the kitchen. The cut did strange things to her face – made her eyes look more open with the bangs out of the way; made her neck look long and slender and feminine.
Ryoga realized that, despite her flippant tone, one of her hands was gripping his sleeve very, very hard. She didn’t seem aware of it; or she was aware of it and just didn’t care. “You’re crying,” he managed.
Ranma nodded. “Sorry.”
“Sorry?”
She shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “Didn’t want you, of all people, to see me like this.”
“What happened? Are you hurt?”
She laughed, strange and empty. “Hurt? Not where you can see.” She tugged his sleeve, suddenly, lifting her eyes to his. “Ryoga...”
“Y-yeah?” Her expression made him twitch. She looked... a lot like a girl, all of a sudden.
“Could you...” She shook her head. “Aw, to hell with asking.” She leaned into him and wrapped her arms around him and squeezed.
Her arms were soft but strong. And she smelled like... what did she smell like? Was it the soap she used? Could that just be her? He didn’t know, couldn’t even tell if he liked the scent or hated it. Her head barely came up past his shoulder. Boy, she really was short. He forgot that all the time, because she was so strong; they were about on even levels in martial arts when she was a girl. The front of his shirt was now wet with tears.
And she was crying again. She was crying harder, maybe, than before. She had two handfuls of his shirt and she was gripping them so hard that he thought she might cut into her own hands with her fingernails. Now she was beating one fist against him, saying she hated him. She said it over and over. He had to hold her just to contain her.
All of a sudden the action stopped. He felt her tremble all over, felt something build within her. All of a sudden, she opened her mouth.
In sudden and desperate understanding, he buried her face into his chest with his free hand, and she screamed into him. The scream was despair, primal and pure, even muffled through his clothing. It echoed in his chest, vibrated his ribcage.
Dear God, he thought, finally thinking again. He realized he was trembling, too. Trembling all over. They’d slid to the kitchen floor. She was calming, though. Her breathing was slowing.
Ryoga slowly came to realize, the way he’d come to realize that he’d kissed her, that he was holding a scantily-clad female Ranma in a tangle of limbs on the kitchen floor.
Somehow who she was didn’t matter half so much this time, except that he’d never seen anything phase Ranma with a handful of notable exceptions.
She was controlling her breathing now in a conscious way: two short breaths in, one long breath out. Calming. Becoming herself again.
Ryoga wondered what would happen to him when her calming rituals reached their conclusion.
Ranma lifted her face up to his. “I just miss you so much,” she breathed, her eyes soft, almost glazed over from her catharsis. “Don’t... don’t wanna lose you... Ryoga...”
“You miss... me?”
She nodded, and wiped her eyes on the sleeves of her pyjamas. “Sorry. It’s a wonder you didn’t transform.” She stood, pulling him up after her. “I’m so sleepy, now.” She drank the last sip of her water and began to wash the cup, as though nothing had happened.
Ryoga twitched. “So that’s it?”
Ranma gazed at him over her shoulder. “What, were you expecting more?”
“No!” Ryoga forced himself to examine his motivations. Truth be told, he didn’t think he’d ever been quite so far from being sexually excited as when Ranma was screaming into his chest cavity. He was... disturbed. Especially at how normal she was acting, now.
Ranma dried the cup and put it back in the cupboard. “’Night.” She disappeared into the room she shared with Genma and shut the door.
“I’m... I’m outta my depth,” Ryoga said aloud.
Author’s Notes:
Not much to say, other than that I feel bad for Ranma and Ryoga in this chapter. And that Ranma's 'calming breathing' is... you guessed it... lamaze.
On a final note, this website removes question mark-exclamation point combinations. So, often, in a bit of dialogue that was meant to be an extremelyemphatic question, all you're getting is the extremelyemphatic part. Sorry.
1 As you might expect, that wasn’t what they were doing at all. It only (understandably) appeared that way to Akane at the time.
2 It’s interesting that Ranma simply uses Genma’s comment about misogyny as a way to discuss his curse. He obviously wants to talk about it, or needs to talk about it. If he were just attempting to piss Genma off, he would have said, “Having four fiancées is just what makes me a misogynist, Pops.”
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