TWELVE: 1998
a Change in Direction
Ranma flipped her fire-red hair out from underneath her kimono and studied her reflection.
She hadn’t been able to find a decent kimono; back when she was sixteen, she hadn’t been all that interested in girlish clothing, so she’d simply picked out what she thought was a good color, or whatever showed the most skin.
These days, Ranma was more picky. She’d gone over to Nodoka’s and ended up borrowing one of her mother’s old (read: vintage) rust-colored kimonos, with sakura blossoms emblazoned on it in a diagonal pattern across the front. While the kimono probably allowed Nodoka to look more like an average Japanese young lady by blending her exact hair color with the kimono’s, it made Ranma’s brighter hair stand out even more. The pink in the petals was just the right shade to bring out a little glow in Ranma’s cheeks. The redhead, not wanting to alarm her companions, had used chapstick on her lips. At least it brought them out, even if it wasn’t any real color.
For five minutes or so, she debated about her cropped hair.
Well. She had to be honest about it. It wasn’t the hair at all, or the kimono, or the decision to wear lipstick or not. It was one whole big mess, but it touched lightly on all of those small decisions. Should she have blackmailed Nabiki? Should she have comforted Kasumi? Should she have cried on Ryoga?
Did she reveal herself – or try to live in a world that no longer fit her? Ranma’s wide, slightly haunted eyes caught in the mirror, saw the all-too frightened girl gazing blankly at her. After a moment, the grave expression lightened, turned into a chuckle.
“Okay. Go all dramatic on me. Baka.” She knocked herself in the head.
“So. Does it matter whether what I saw was real or not?”
No. It didn’t matter.
“Do I like the way things are, now? Like the way I treat Akane and Ryoga and Kasumi and Pops...?”
No. Of course not. Relationships, by definition, were tangled badly at this point.
“Well then what the hell am I doing? Dummy.” Despite her flippant tone, her hands trembled badly as she took a small, jeweled clip from beside the sink and used it to hold her bangs away from her eyes. “But what if I change things? Can’t I make myself into an impossibility? Isn’t this tempting paradox?” She longed for the book on her shelf, the book on causality, the one she had bought because of long-honed instinct, no reason, a liking for the intricacies of quantum mechanics, a pleasure in seeing her husband’s raised brows, incredulous expression. Staring at her scarlet hair briefly in the mirror, she added one more clip to the other side of her face. It revealed her features nicely.
She grinned at herself – very unconvincingly. Gosh, no wonder Akane says I look like a sneak. I’ve never seen a smile wider – or more fake.
Stop smiling, then. Let them know that you’re upset. Why won’t you let them help you? Why do you feel like you’ve got to keep this to yourself? C’mon, Saotome, this sort of thing happens all the time... to you.
Akane’s voice suddenly came back to her: Helping someone out doesn’t take anything away from them! And... letting someone know she was in pain maybe didn’t make her look like a fool.
Ranma’s expression fell. It looked a lot sadder, it looked a lot more empty. A little desperate.
But much more true. Less like somebody hiding from herself. Ranma swallowed, and put on a light sheen of lip gloss. It was a dark color, almost the same color as the kimono, so she put it on lightly and blotted a great deal off before she was satisfied.
“Okay. You can do this. It can’t be harder than it was the first time. C’mon, Ranma. Go!” She adjusted the kimono’s sakura-pink bow, squared her shoulders and strode (read: shuffled1) out of the bathroom.
She was met with Nabiki’s incredulous gaze. “What do you think you’re doing!” the middle Tendo girl hissed. “What the hell is wrong with you!”
Ranma turned cold eyes her way. “I’m doing as I wish – finally. And I don’t care if my dream was a dream or some kind of reality. I’m here, now, and I have to live here. I don’t care what you or anyone else believes.”
Nabiki swallowed. “Do you realize how crazy that sounds? ‘Well, reality doesn’t fit – so I’ll pretend it does’! You know who you sound like, don’t you?”
Ranma’s eyes saddened as she thought of what she’d done to Kuno. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
Nabiki blinked, taken aback. “Well... uh, so long as you know.”
Ranma slid down the stairs carefully, her entire body going rock-solid at the thought of what those downstairs would say when they met up with her. Genma would demand what the hell she was doing, and possibly pour hot water on her on the spot, which would indubitably ruin her mother’s kimono. Soun would cry – Akane would either rage, or go silent. (Sometimes it was hard to tell with the youngest Tendo.) Kasumi would say she looked very nice, and mean it. Insert Nabiki’s sardonic comment, here.
Ryoga? She didn’t know. She didn’t know him, anymore.
Her expectations were frustrated almost immediately.
“Well, there you are, dear!” Saotome Nodoka said. She was seated at the Tendo dining room table, sipping on some tea which Kasumi had apparently provided. “Goodness, that does suit you! How did you know?”
Genma, Ryoga, Akane, Kasumi, and Soun were unable to make their characteristic contributions.
“Why, how lovely you look!”
Okay, so Kasumi was able to make hers.
Thank you, mother! “Oh, we look a lot alike,” Ranma replied. “I figured that if it looked nice enough on you for you to purchase it, it would probably look all right on me...”
Nodoka tilted her head to one side. “Goodness, but we do have similar coloring. I never made that connection, before.”
Genma was staring at her with a very stressed, confused expression that Ranma couldn’t place. Of course, she was a little confused too; the man was in his real form, not his cursed one.
“You’ve come on a joyous occasion, Ranko,” Nodoka continued. “My husband and I have reunited after ten long years of separation.”
Ranma smiled, genuinely this time. “That must be wonderful!”
“Unfortunately, I hear that my son is off on a training trip on his own,” Nodoka murmured unhappily.
One thing at a time, Ranma reminded herself. Don’t throw yourself at her feet just yet. “That’s too bad,” Ranma lied smoothly. “I know how much you want to see him. And I’m sure you will soon.”
Nodoka’s returning smile was bright enough to light up the room. “Thank you for the thought, Ranko, dear. Coming from you it feels... like it might be true, somehow.”
“Oh, auntie, I’m sure it is!” Akane broke in.
“Meanwhile, my husband and I have a great deal to catch up on,” Nodoka murmured. “Although I was planning on attending the festival tonight, it might be a good idea to stick close to home.” She eyed her husband, as though wondering whether he might disappear again.
Ranma found herself sympathetic to them both. From later discussions, she knew how her father felt at this point, and it was not good. She was lucky that anyone who noted her sympathy figured that it was directed to her mother.
“Perhaps you ought to go to the festival together,” Ranma suggested. “It sounds romantic, right?”
Nodoka perked up. “Genma?”
“Ah... c-certainly, No-chan.”
“A date! My goodness,” Nodoka uncharacteristically fluttered. “I don’t know how long it’s been!” Genma flinched as Nodoka stood suddenly. “Excuse me, I’m going to go freshen up!”
The moment she was out of hearing range, furious whispers began at the table.
“You fool! Look what you’ve done!” Genma hissed. “In case you’re forgetting, you’ll be at the fair! What if she catches you?”
Ranma shook her head. “Let me worry about that. You worry about showing her a nice time. Idiot – she’s been waiting on you for ten years. Do you know how many women would do that? Do you know how lucky you are that she hasn’t found someone younger, handsomer, and less of a complete moron!”
“Like you speak from experience!” Genma shot back. “You don’t know how painful it’s been waiting for Nochan! But I’d rather not die, all the same–”
“Have you ever noted how they sound more like siblings than father and son?” Nabiki inquired of Kasumi.
“Oh my! So they do!”
“Oh, my poor friend, to be taken so cruelly from the world!” Soun wailed.
“I’m not dead yet!” Genma barked.
Then Nodoka returned, and all was peace and harmony once more. At least on the surface.
“Goodness, I feel just like a schoolgirl,” Nodoka confided to Akane.
“Heh,” Akane laughed a little nervously.
“It seems little Ranko feels the same way,” Genma interjected flatly.
“Hey, Genma-san, oughtn’t you ‘freshen up’ too?” Ranma prodded.
Genma gratefully retreated to the room he shared with Ranma. Sounds like a hacksaw immediately began to emerge.
“Soun, he’s sawing his way out of the room!” Ranma whispered.
Soun didn’t notice that he’d been addressed by his first name. “You... aren’t serious...”
“I think you should check up on him,” Ranma hinted strongly.
“Excuse me,” Soun said, standing up at the table and disappearing into Genma’s room.
Sounds of violence ensued, while twin sweatdrops appeared on the back of Ranma, Akane, and Nabiki’s heads.
“Sooo... how ‘bout this weather we’re having?” Ranma wanted to know.
The streetlamps were bright as people wove in and out of the large street fair that came annually to Nerima. Girls were dressed in their prettiest kimonos or their nicest western dresses, and giggled as their boyfriends won them prizes or complimented them. Children ran, screaming joyfully through the crowd, or hung on the arm of a parent, the other hand firmly wrapped arounda stick of a cotton candy. Joyous screams and clacks signaled the presence of a small roller-coaster. The entire prefecture of Nerima seemed to be made up of people having an amazing time.
Predictably enough, Ryoga was in a Deep Funk.
“Ryoga. Ryoga!” Akane tugged at his sleeve.
The Lost Boy looked down at Akane and smiled. She was beautiful in a blue-and-white kimono, her hair held back by a pale white ribbon. “It’s nothing, Akane. Really.”
Truth be told, it was the nothing directly in front of them who had his attention – the nothing called Ranma Saotome.
He should be happy, he reminded himself – no, ecstatic – to be walking side by side with Akane, whom he loved. It was practically a date the way she was sticking to him, despite the fact that others were present. Instead, he found his eyes constantly straying to Ranma’s stiff back and shoulders.
When she’d come down the stairs he literally hadn’t recognized her. He’d wondered what sort of goddess had meandered into the Tendo living room, and was about to ask Akane which of her friends she’d invited, and how come he didn’t know about her.
Then Nodoka had begun speaking to her, very familiarly, and the flame-haired beauty had told the older woman that they had the same coloring – and, to his shame, it still hadn’t hit him. He was thinking about her slender white neck, and her bright eyes, and the way she had a sort of desperate air, like someone who had nothing to lose.
Then Nodoka had called her ‘Ranko’. Still nothing.
It had taken Nabiki, professional stater-of-the-obvious, to tell everybody at the table that Genma and Ranma fought more like siblings than like father and son.
Then it had hit him. That was Ranma. Ranma! Ranma, looking like... he couldn’t put his finger on it. Not feminine – or not only feminine, anyway. Delicate. Dangerous. Poised over some sort of long fall. It baffled him that no one else seemed to catch this gravity which had suddenly enveloped her. It was that more than the kimono which had thrown him.
Ranma had always been full of mischief – full of life. Right now, she looked like it took all her willpower to put one foot in front of the other; and yet, she did it with a grace that made her desperation unspeakably beautiful.
“Ryoga! This way...”
Ryoga shook his head free of cobwebs. He had to be imagining things. Besides, if he didn’t pay attention, Akane would forget him briefly and he would end up in rural Hokkaido in a moment of deep thought. “Sorry, Akane. I’ll try harder to pay attention.”
Ukyo dropped back to jog along beside them. Offering up an apologetic grin towards the youngest Tendo, she nudged Ryoga. “Sorry, sugar, but can I ‘borrow’ him for a minute?”
Akane nodded, looking slightly bemused and ran to catch up with her fiancee. A moment before reaching her, though, Akane slowed. Ryoga was surprised to watch the dark-haired girl maintain her pace a step behind. That was strange; last he knew, they were getting along better than ever, with the way that Ranma was touching her all the time. In public!
“What do you think you’re doing!” Ukyo hissed.
“Huh?” Ryoga realized all over again that he had company.
“The entire idea is to win Akane over! And you’re not even speaking to her...”
“Oh. Yeah, I know...”
“You know? Listen! This may be your only chance to impress that girl! Okay, I know you’re shy. I’ll give you a couple of things to say...”
Ryoga watched as Ranma tossed some comment over her shoulder; Akane froze. Then, after a moment’s shock, the taller girl ran to catch up. Now they were walking together, at least.
“Try that her outfit makes her look really feminine. Akane’s weak spot is her femininity, so anytime you compliment her on that, it’s a surefire home run. ‘Kay?”
“Nn.”
Now Ranma was looking affronted, Akane apologetic. After another second, Akane allowed herself to pull back, seeming even more unhappy.
“Then win some prize for her. I know it’s classic, but it works. Buy her a snack. You’ve got enough for that, don’t you?”
“What do you think happened to them?” Ryoga inquired absently, still watching the pair of girls, one trailing dejectedly, the other stiff as a board.
“Huh?” Ukyo followed the path of his gaze. “Oh. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter! That works in our favor, whatever the reason.”
Ryoga turned to her and frowned, looking at her as though for the first time. “For real, Ukyo.”
Ukyo sighed with a very put-upon expression. “I don’t know. I think it has something to do with the way that Ranma was treating Kuno, of all people. Akane and Ranma had a fight about that, but I don’t know the specifics.”
“What’s with the... makeup? And the hair?”
Ukyo shook her head. “It’s been bothering me, too, to be honest. But every time I talk about it, Ranma just gives me this look... and it’s like my tongue’s frozen in my mouth.”
“Like she wants the world to end...”
“Exactly!” Ukyo broke in. “And when my fiancee looks at me with those eyes, how am I supposed to tell him to get on some guy clothes so I can hang on his arm? Especially when he doesn’t seem to want to be close to anyone, tonight... He’s not himself.”
The all-too-real feeling of Ranma screaming into him, gripping him like she never meant to let him go, assaulted Ryoga. The memory was a strange mix of wrong-yet-right that the Lost Boy couldn’t quite explain. “It was a dream... wasn’t it?”
“Huh?”
Ryoga let his breath escape him in a whoosh. “Never mind. Hey... where’d Nabiki and Kasumi go?”
“Kasumi wanted to win some new koi for the pond,” Ukyo supplied. “Nabiki went with. So deep in thought this is the first time you’ve missed them?”
Ryoga nodded guiltily. “Yeah...”
“I’m gonna talk with Akane, see if I can’t get her in a more receptive mood. You’re not at the top of your game tonight,” Ukyo chided.
“Yeah, I know.”
Ukyo slid next to Akane and linked arms with the youngest Tendo, engaging her in animated conversation.
Ryoga just couldn’t focus. The picture of Ranma crying on him seemed to live in him now, like a spirit that had taken residence in his body. He’d find himself thinking of it during strange moments, inexplicably dwelling on it. He’d catch himself... obsessing. He couldn’t shake the impression that, whatever it had been, dream or no, Ranma was in trouble.
Could it be as simple as being worried... over a friend? He was allowed to do that, wasn’t he?
Ryoga thought back to his conversation, such as it was, with Ranma – when he realized that treating Ranma just like any other guy wasn’t quite right. Was this a product of that kind of thinking? Now he had lease to worry about the other martial artist? That’s it, he decided. It would be okay to worry about a girl...
All of a sudden, the crowds seemed to push in from all sides. Ryoga realized that a ride had just stopped, and that the stream of people shoving past him were from the mass exodus. He felt his breath coming sharp and fast. He couldn’t see any of his group!
Abruptly, a pair of arms emerged from the crowd and yanked him forward.
“Thanks, U... er, Ran...ma?”
Ranma gave him a small, shy smile. “No problem. Let’s walk.”
Ryoga wanted to ask her a lot of things, but his brain kept tripping over itself, that picture of her sobbing getting in his way. How do you ask someone whether they’ve given you a bald-faced lie?
“I’m sorry for crying at you before,” Ranma said quickly.
Ryoga flinched. “What?”
“And for telling you that it was a dream, after,” she added guiltily.
For some reason, this made Ryoga realize all over again that she had a hold on his arm. “Gah!”
“Gah?”
“I... I’d just about convinced myself it... hadn’t really happened...”
“I’m sorry,” she repeated.
For a long time, they were both quiet. To Ryoga, the rides and games flowing by them had begun to take on the appearance of the surreal. Everything was so bright, and passing him by so quickly.
“Why were you... uh, upset?”
Ranma was quiet for a long time. “Do you remember when I kissed you?”
He was surprised to hear himself choke back a laugh. “What a question. How could I forget?”
“There was a dream I had.”
“A dream?” He eyed her suspiciously.
“I think it was a dream, anyway. Probably. Maybe.”
At his raised eyebrow, she grinned. “A dream that might-not-have-been. It was a good dream. We were all older.”
Ryoga perked up. “Really? That’s kind of cool. I never have dreams like that, all involved. They’re always pretty garden-variety. I fight you and kill you, that kind of thing.” Now that she’d finally admitted it, he was feeling strange and a little lightheaded.
At least she understood it was a joke. Her smile said she did, anyway. “It was so good that it was a pain to wake up,” she admitted. “A pain to wake up right back... right back where I started.”
Ryoga nodded slowly. If he had a dream like that... maybe, a dream where he married Akane and had children and ran a dojo... waking up would be a true reason for despair.
“In psychological terms, it’s called a ‘lucid dream’,” she was continuing. “That is, you feel that it’s real, even after you’ve woken. The feeling can last for an instant, or days, or even forever, depending on your state of mind and just how sane you are.”
“So what was it about?” Ryoga inquired. He wondered just what would make someone like Ranma so happy that waking up was a ‘pain’.
“I was married,” she replied, “and running the dojo. We... we had a child.”
Ryoga nodded absently to himself. He found himself unsurprised that Ranma’s fantasy had been much like the one he’d crafted for himself.
“My mom knew about the curse,” Ranma went on, “and didn’t mind. Pops had mellowed. Kasumi was married, too, and happy.”
“And what about me?” Ryoga wanted to know. “Let me guess: I was wandering the globe and still trying to kill you.”
“No,” Ranma replied. “No, you were settled, too. You’d cured your problem with directions and were much... calmer.”
“Are you saying I lose my temper easily?”
“Easy, Hibiki,” Ranma cut in.
Ryoga flushed as he realized that was exactly what he’d been about to do. “And Akane?”
“Akane had gone to college for awhile, and then decided to tour with an acting troupe.”
“Kuno?”
Ranma smirked. “Married to Kasumi.”
“He WHAT!” Ryoga demanded.
The redhead smiled sweetly. “He’d mellowed too. She’d gotten more assertive. She thought he was funny; he worshipped the ground she walked on. Actually, it wasn’t a bad match, despite the fact that Kasumi’s always saying she wants an older man to take care of her.”
Ryoga nodded, then tried to cast back as to what had begun this conversation, which was growing increasingly odd. “But what does that have to do with you kissing me?” he wanted to know.
“We were married,” Ranma said.
Ryoga frowned. “Yeah. We were both married. What does that have to do with you... kissing...” he trailed off, a radical idea suddenly hitting him.
Ranma bobbed her head, once. “You were the one I was married to.”
Ryoga stopped dead in his tracks.
Ranma continued speaking anyway, picking up steam as she went – like she wanted to get her words out into the open before she lost her courage. “That’s why I kissed you. When I woke up, I still thought of you as my husband.” Ranma colored. “I kind of... still... do...”
Ryoga stared at her. He couldn’t help but note, almost as a non-sequitor, how beautiful she looked, with her kimono dark against the night, her paleness flushing in embarrassment, her eyes – those grave, desperate eyes – trained on his shoes. “H-husband?”
Ranma nodded. “I can’t seem to get it out of my head. It felt real. Really real. I knew all kinds of things about you that only a wife could know. All kinds of things about... having a baby. Our baby.” She looked up at him, and it was that look again, the one that Ryoga hadn’t been able to place before. But he knew it now.
He gripped her by the shoulders and shook her. “Ranma!”
For a moment, one blessed moment, all that was in her eyes was shock.
“Are you still in there!”
“Am I still...?”
“You realize what you’re saying?”
The hopelessness rushed back in to fill the emptiness of shock. She already knew what he was going to say; she was already rejecting it.
He flew forward anyway. “This isn’t you, Ranma. This isn’t you at all! You’re the one who jumped on my head every day in junior high, and who... who led me to school every morning also. You’re the one who spars with me anytime I show. You’re the one who yells at me for sleeping with Akane! Because you’re jealous! Not of her – of me!”
Ranma blinked.
“You’re the... the kindest jerk of an asshole...” he murmured. “Why can’t you be that Ranma? The one I know? The one I can deal with...”
Ranma’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. No, you’re right. This was a mistake.”
“Don’t look like that... please don’t look like that!”
“How am I supposed to look, then?” she demanded.
Ryoga pondered. “You’re supposed to say... uh... ‘You idiot, P-chan, did you think I was serious? Geez, man, you must be the most guillible person on the face of the planet!’”
Ranma blinked at him, once, slowly – and then began to laugh, hard and a little hysterical, tears that weren’t born entirely of laughter hanging in her eyes.
“Don’t...” Ryoga begged, glancing around the fair in a hunted fashion. In utter desperation, he searched about for something to make her stop weeping. Wildly, kissing her ran through his head for a brief moment before Ryoga’s inner thought police began shooting that down. “Ranma!” he exclaimed. “Akane and Ukyo were right behind us!”
Ranma stiffened, straightened.
Ryoga realized that this was the right thing to say. “Yeah! Uh... right behind us! You don’t want Akane to see you cry, do you?”
Ranma scrubbed her eyes frantically. “No.”
“Here, let me get you some water.” Ryoga spied a barrel with drinking water and a small scoop, and drew it for her. “Splash your face.”
She looked up at him from under her lashes a little suspiciously, but obeyed, dipping her handkerchief in the water and dabbing at her cheeks and swollen eyes. “Better?” she inquired as he set the ladle back into the water.
Ryoga gulped. She still had a high flush across her cheeks. Beautiful, he thought inadvertently.
She blinked up at him again. “Ryoga? C-can we get out of here?”
He found himself nodding, taking her by the elbow, and steering her away from the pressing crowds.
Even he could manage that much of a change in direction.
It was cold atop the Tendo roof, but at least they wouldn’t have any problems being seen by those they knew. To Ryoga’s shame, he’d had to carry Ranma up, because of the kimono she was wearing.
Ranma spread out her jacket and sat on it, arranging her skirt. She seemed a lot calmer, but all that meant was that she was on the verge of a breakdown rather than in the middle of one. Her eyes still held that look that was beginning to haunt Ryoga, and they were still wet. Although she wasn’t sobbing, the tears kept coming. Every now and then, one of her hands would rise to sweep them away.
Ryoga was at a loss. He was remembering all sorts of things – the way she’d said, “I miss you”, the way she hadn’t wanted him to stay over that night. Because she would be tempted? How cold and silent she’d been, like she was afraid that one crack would make her shatter.
What do I say? What do I do? I can’t deal with him like this; I don’t know how.
Then Ranma was speaking, making him feel a warm wash of relief.
“On warm nights we used to sleep on the roof, like this.” She lay back, her scarlet hair pooling behind her head, her knees drawn up slightly, her face turned towards his. “You’d make up names for the stars you didn’t know.”
“Ranma...” Ryoga began. “This isn’t healthy. That never happened!”
“But it did happen. Or it will.”
“It was a dream. Don’t talk like that!”
“You used to tell me bad jokes and say that you liked me for my soul.” She chuckled. “Corniest cornball there ever was. Man, I could use one of your bad jokes right about now.”
“Ranma, cut it out!”
Her eyes trailed to his. “Make me.” But the words held no challenge.
“Just thinking about it...” He shivered. “It’s impossible!”
“Why?” she wondered.
“Because... of who you are. And who I am.”
“A guy?”
“Part of it, but not all,” Ryoga whispered; but he’d surprised himself. If someone had told him he’d be having this conversation, he’d have said that would be the first reason he’d offer. (After he’d laughed his ass off, of course.) But it wasn’t the first thing. “You... you think I’m worthless,” he said quietly. “You think I’m not good enough for Akane; how could I ever be good enough for you?”
Ranma smiled. “You manage.”
“Like how?”
“Well, like finally telling me about how Akane knew about you being P-chan all along...”
Ryoga froze. “W-what? No, Ranma... that’s just the dream.”
“Are you sure? Akane wasn’t using you to make me jealous?”
Ryoga bigsweated. “Not that I’m aware of...”
“Hmm.” Her voice was amused, like she wasn’t sure she believed him. “Well, maybe this was all in an alternate world. Like Sliders. You know that show?”
“Er... no.”
“Aw, you’re hopeless. You’re so uninfluenced. That’s what’s kind of cool about you. A good point.” She laughed a little bit, and the tears finally stopped.
“What else?” he inquired.
“Hmm. Well, the only one who can hold a candle to me in a fight, you know.”
“Yeah...”
“And you’re cute...” she murmured.
Ryoga’s pleased expression died. “What?”
She eyed him hungrily. “Cute. Handsome. Muscular. At least as cute as me. In fact, the fangs might put you over the top.”
Ryoga gulped audibly. “Ranma...”
“Sorry. But it’s true. And it’s another one of your good points. So’s your naivete. It’s so sweet! And your cursed form is fun to cuddle. And you’re a little wild and unpredictable... which is also fun.”
Ryoga’s heart began to thump.
“And... let me see. The way you won’t go to sleep unless I...” She paused. “Maybe you don’t want to hear anything all that personal.”
“Eh heh! Yeah... but the fact that you know d-details l-like t-that...”
“Is odd. Right? Right?”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s not like I know so much about you.”
“Come on, Ryoga. Name me a good point.”
Ryoga stared at her. “Uh... all right. I’ll just repeat all of what you said.”
“Huh?”
Ryoga ticked it off on his fingers. “You kept my secret from Akane. You’re uninfluenced and naiive. You’re the only one who can hold a candle to me in a fight; and you’re cute – handsome, muscular...”
Ranma hit him.
“And your cursed form is fun to...” He flushed. “I mean, you’re a little wild and unpreditable... which makes my stomach hurt most of the time. But sometimes it’s fun,” he admitted. He shrugged. “Now is the less fun kind of unpredictable.”
She nodded. “Yeah...” She offered him a smile. “Thanks, Ryo... I needed that...”
He shrugged. “What are imaginary husbands for?”
He was rewarded with a small laugh. “Okay, all right. You’re doing better with this than I thought you would. I had this picture of you screaming ‘prepare to die’ and rushing me.”
“Most of my ‘prepare to die’s were a long time ago,” Ryoga countered.
“Oh, like, six months or something.”
“Well – something like that. Anyway, the reason is that I don’t know how to act. Rage seems wrong...”
“Well, I’m not looking a gift piggie in the mouth.”
“Feh. So all this moping around... all this death-on-a-stick Ranma... is that you’re pining... for me?”
“And Sachiko!” Ranma countered.
“What! You’ve got a wife, too!”
Ranma blinked. “Not a wife, you idiot, your daughter!”
Your... daughter. The words echoed in Ryoga’s head. I have a daughter.
No! You DON’T! Ryoga shook his head wildly, shaking himself free of the odd and sudden leap of joy the information had aroused. “Er... so that’s why you’re upset?”
“That and trying to decide whether I’m really delusional or not, and keeping up appearances as if I’m normal. But I’ve decided to drop that last one.”
“Obviously.”
“So. Think I’m delusional?”
“Noooo...” Ryoga drawled. “I think you’re... confused.”
“Hn.”
“Could be a reaction from all the crap you’ve been going through, you know.”
“What, like a... breakdown?”
“Nonono!” Ryoga waved his hands abruptly in negation. “Like... like a reaction to a combination of spells, curses, or whatever.”
“Oh. Like the spells combined in some way.”
“Yes.”
“To cause a delusional state.”
“Sort of.”
“That makes little to no sense, ya know.”
“It was a shot in the dark, Ranma. I’m trying to explain this to myself so you don’t seem like you’ve completely lost it.”
“Well – and what if I’m right?”
“Then we both completely lost it.”
“I don’t know. Way I remember it, we were happy. We scarcely fought at all.”
“We didn’t? Now I KNOW it was a dream.”
“Kind of deleriously happy, matter of fact. The first year we were married, you kinda wandered through in a daze. Me too, though, I guess. Combined shock and happiness will do that.”
Ryoga stared at her for a moment. She really was beautiful. And funny, and exciting, and... idiot. Stop it... stop it! Kissing her now would be like kissing someone who’s drunk enough to pass out... she’s flirting because she’s in an altered mental state.
“For our first anniversary, you wanted it to be special. We went to a steakhouse in America, and–”
“We went to America for our first anniversary?”
“Well... just for that one dinner.”
Ryoga blinked at her. “Huh?”
“I forgot. Your directional curse – you can control it so that you go anyplace. Anything you’re carrying goes with you. You swooped me up and off we went.”
“Control the curse?”
“You don’t think you could have showed up for your marriage if you hadn’t been able to find the hall, did you?” Ranma winked at him. “We figured it out between us before Cologne went back to China. Your whole curse was just an extention of your innate chi abilities. Once you figured out how to control it, you could travel anywhere. It’s another one of your good points, come to think of it. It’s pretty amazing!”
Ryoga blinked. “C-control the c-curse...”
“Yeah. That’s about how you looked when you figured it out the first time around, too.”
“Could you teach me that?” Ryoga demanded, grabbing her hands in his.
Ranma blinked. “Well... yeah, sure. I’ll have to think about it, but maybe tomorrow, I can...”
“Tomorrow?”
“Well, you aren’t thinking of leaving now, are you? It’s already too dark to find a good campsite...”
“Well... no.” Ryoga looked down at their entwined hands and let go, blushing. “So... I learned to control the curse. I can’t believe it...”
“Believe it,” she said playfully.
“What else?”
Ranma paused in thought. “Well, you teach classes in the dojo, and–”
“We live here?”
“Along with Akane and Nabiki – though Akane comes by less and less these days,” Ranma said, slipping inadvertently into present tense, “because of her acting? She’s so good! Although I wish she’d keep up with the martial arts. It’s really the only way we connect, anymore.”
“But how’d she give up on you?” Ryoga demanded bitterly, thinking back to Akane’s dejected posture as she followed behind Ranma.
“Well... she stepped aside for you, actually.”
“For me?”
Ranma nodded. “She saw what was happening, and loved us enough to let us be. I’ve never been prouder of her and her control than that moment.” She shook herself free of her thoughts. “You know... sitting up here on the roof, I could almost imagine that Sachiko is inside, in her crib, and that you’re my husband and that it’s returning to my past that’s been the nightmare.”
Ryoga’s eyes crinkled and his brows lowered in sympathy. “I’m sorry that this happened to you, Ranma.”
A small smile broke out on Ranma’s features. “I’m not. Would you rather hate me?”
Ryoga blinked. “Uh... you know what? No, I don’t think so. Ever since I’ve felt better about you... I’ve started feeling a little bit better about me. Does that make any sense?”
Ranma nodded. “Sure does. I sometimes bring out the worst in you. That or the best.”
“That’s because you’re a challenge,” Ryoga replied. “That’s what challenges do.”
Ranma’s smile could have outshone the moon. “There you are! Thank you...”
“What?”
“You were my husband there... for just a minute,” Ranma whispered.
His look of confusion dissolved into acceptance, a brief flicker of understanding, before shifting once more to confusion. “W-we should get back,” he stammered, suddenly feeling slightly sick to his stomach. “The others will be wondering where we ran off to.”
Ranma nodded, her injured, hopeless expression churning the contents of his gut more than a punch could ever hope to do, and offered him her arms, refusing to gaze into his features.
With a small sigh, Ryoga swept her up, and roof-hopped back to the fair.
When the pair alighted on the ground, they once again sought out the water barrels that lined the walkway around the fairgrounds. Ranma handed Ryoga her handkerchief, and he wiped the tear tracks away from her cheeks and from underneath her eyes. She smiled bravely and somewhat conspiratorally, as if to say, now we’ve covered up all signs of the breakdown, you and me.
Ryoga suddenly realized how close they were. Since he usually thought of Ranma as a guy, he hadn’t noticed how much of his personal space she was occupying. He wondered if anyone at the fair thought that they were dating.
Ranma’s look of complicity had already turned into a small, awkward smile and a bright blush. She took one step closer and went on tip-toe.
She’ll kiss me! ran through his brain. Ranma’s eyes were sliding shut; she was mere inches away.
Ryoga realized that he was lowering his neck slightly to meet her. No! Ryoga, don’t do this! Falling for her is asking for...
“Ryoga!” a voice sounded out in the cacophany of the fair, and the would-be lovers sprung guiltily apart.
Author’s Notes:
It’s interesting how, in one plotline, Ryoga is trying to seduce Ranma, but in this one, it’s the other way around. I think that twenty-something Ryoga got the rough end of the deal, there. It’s probably a lot more difficult to seduce Ranma than Ryoga under any circumstances. Ryoga is so guillible, and sooo desperate for someone to love him that he’s sometimes a little pathetic. Ranma, on the other hand, has a surfeit of admirers, and can afford to be a little blase about yet another. Moreover, Ranma’s ideas about ‘manliness’ stand a good chance of getting in the way.
1 Kimono skirts are notoriously narrow. An American girl would fall over ten times a minute walking in one.
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