Tendo-Saotome Anything Goes

 

 

Genma Saotome crept through the house, darkness and Umi-Sen Ken keeping him undetected.  He moved from room to room, utterly silent: Kasumi; Nabiki; Akane!  The door creaked when he opened it; he halted breathlessly but stepped inside after he heard no sounds of movement from within.

Inside, there was only one figure asleep… Ranma must have come to his senses and crept downstairs.

No…

Genma held back a curse as he viewed not one but two figures in Akane’s bed.  If only he had actually wanted them to be married still, he would have danced for joy—but now he actually winced as he witnessed the two girls spooned together, the shorter Ranma on the outside, Akane’s head resting gently on top of hers.  Not only was Ranma attached to the girl already, they were already sleeping together!  No matter whether they’d done anything sexual or not; it was already too close for Genma’s comfort.

His conversation with Soun earlier had cemented his decision to take Ranma and run as fast as his legs would carry him.  Akane’s nonviolent nonsense—he couldn’t risk that rubbing off on his boy.  The last thing he needed for a son was a girl who went around spouting ‘give peace a chance’. Yes, it was surely time to employ the Saotome Secret Technique.  Leaning over, he gently shook the boy-turned-girl.  It wouldn’t do to wake Akane as well.

Ranma must’ve been only in a light doze, as her eyes fluttered open immediately.  “Hn?  Whazzat?” she murmured sleepily.  Her blue eyes widened and she froze as she became aware of an arm flung casually around her waist from behind.  She blinked dazedly at her father.

“Time to go, boy,” Genma whispered tightly, watching Akane’s face for any signs of wakefulness.  He supposed he was going to have to think of something to call Ranma now that she was not his boy anymore.

“Go?”  Ranma was suddenly entirely alert, her body singing with adrenaline.  “Why?”

“Why?  Because it’s time to move on, that’s why!”

Ranma unconsciously snuggled closer to Akane.  “No!” she whispered vehemently.

“No?” Genma repeated, echoing his son again.  He turned an unflattering shade of purple that was noticeable even in the half-light of the Nerima streetlamp shining through Akane’s window.

“You heard what I said,” Ranma whispered softly.  “I wanna stay.  I like her.  You can rot, for all I care!”

Genma decided to try a tactic he had seldom, if ever, used: honesty.  “Ranma.  I know I haven’t been the most understanding of fathers, and it may seem like I’m being cruel now.  But you’d thank me later.  This kind of living could easily make you soft, boy—sleeping in a bed next to a pretty girl who isn’t even aware of your true nature would sound like heaven to any healthy young boy, I’m sure.  But that girl there would be a terrible influence on you.  Already, she must be making you weak.  My son would never sleep next to a girl the way you are.”

Ranma paused, having felt the changes Akane was catalyzing in her.  “Go on,” she conceded.

Genma tried not to show his surprise.  Funny, the truth’s never worked before…  “The two of us have spent most of our lives perfecting our martial arts skills, Ranma m’boy,” Genma continued hopefully.  “Do you want to throw that all away—all that hard work, all that sacrifice—because a girl you’ve known for less than twenty-four hours was nice to you?  Listen to me Ranma.  Sometimes I’m foolish, but I know about women: they are delicate, flowering blossoms.  Pretty, smelling sweet—often useless.  Don’t fall by the wayside of the art to which you’ve devoted your life just because of a pretty face!” 

For a moment, Ranma’s expression became doubtful, and Genma smiled.

Ranma’s features slipped to angry.  “Yeah, pops—I’d go with you.  If I happened to be in male form just now.”

Genma blinked.  “Huh?”

Ranma had stiffened, all of her small body tense.  “Women are delicate flowering blossoms that are pretty, that smell sweet, and are useless, huh?  What do I look like to you just now?”

Genma cursed himself inwardly, but managed to gather a hasty reply.  “That’s just the body, Ranma my boy, the inside is completely different!”

Her blue eyes narrowed and she hissed under her breath.  “But you’re talking about the body… unless you’re implying girls are delicate in the head!”[1]  She growled softly.  “Go away!  I wanna go back to sleep…”

Saotome Genma stared into those blue eyes, usually so innocent and open, now hooded and ice-cold.  Challenging. 

Looking suddenly a lot like her mother’s.

Genma took an unconscious step backward as he made that particular connection.  Come to think of it, Ranma looked a lot like…  Ranma looked exactly like… why hadn’t he been able to put that together, before?  Sure, the hair was in a different style, and slightly brighter, but that could easily be from the sun.  Quickly he pushed this to the back of his mind to consider later.  “Ranma, stay here and you’ll have to marry this girl.  Is that really what you want?”

There was a long pause from the redhead—uncomfortably long.  “No,” she said finally, her voice still quiet.

“These people have no reason to take you in then, Ranma,” Genma said, a pleased note entering his voice.  Finally, he was getting somewhere!  “Tendo has no reason to take in one more girl when he has three to watch over already!  You’d be imposing.”

There was another pause, while Ranma considered this.  “We’ll see, pops.  There’s no reason to creep away from these folks, anyway.  Unless there’s something you’ve stolen?”  Her eyebrows climbed into her hair in prim reproval.

“No,” he said quickly.

“Then what’s all the sneaking around?” she inquired.  She yawned widely.  “We ain’t done anything wrong, pops… we could go tomorrow and say a proper goodbye, y’know.  It’s…”  Ranma’s eyes shifted briefly to the clock on Akane’s nightstand.  “…three o’clock in the morning.  Go back to sleep.”  And she snuggled more fully under the covers as though that was truly the end of the discussion, closing her eyes and utterly dismissing him.

Genma was left kneeling on the floor next to Akane’s bed, feeling like a fool.  Gotten too used to running around, too used to always having something wrong, an old, scarce-used bit of sense informed him.  He’d really be doing old Tendo a turn, creeping away in the night like this—and he did like the insufferable fool a great deal.  He’d even missed him.

For a moment, he stared at the young redhead, but his mind was not seeing her there; instead, two pictures warred in his brain: one of Ranma as the boy he had raised, and the other of Nodoka, the woman he had wooed.  Shaking his head free of cobwebs, he rose and slipped soundlessly out the door.

Akane stirred, drawing Ranma closer to her body.  “Always… like this?” she mumbled softly.

Ranma wasn’t sure if she was actually still asleep or not, so she replied.  “We stopped for more n’ a year twice: once when I was very small and just starting school, and once in junior high.  Besides that, I’ve been moving around as long as I can remember.”

Then the girl whispered something that made a tingle run from Ranma’s toes to the tips of her hair: “Not anymore.”

 

*****-----*****

 

That morning was an unusual one for Ranma, to say the least.  Morning light shone on her features and woke her before her father could kick her or shake her violently awake.  For a moment, her sleepiness warred with the bright sunshine and she considered just turning over and going back to sleep.

Then she heard a noise behind her: “mmmm….”

That was a noise that should not be there, as far as Ranma was concerned.  In fact, there were several incongruous things about the morning—the bright sunshine and lack of foot in her gut amongst them.  But there was also—ye gods!—a comforter over her body… two pillows behind her head…

Warm arm around her waist…

Ranma sat up abruptly and scuttled away from a sleeping girl that her brain refused to recognize, gasping like a fish deprived of its natural habitat.  The girl was beautiful, too, some remote part of Ranma’s brain noted, with long dark hair in a flattering style, dark, heavy lashes, and slightly parted lips.  The soft rhythm of the girl’s  breathing skipped a beat; she, too, was stirring.

“Mmm,” she declared again, sitting up, rubbing her eyes and stretching her arms to the ceiling.

Ranma continued to stare blankly; it was all she currently seemed capable of.  Luckily, her shock was wearing off, and she was going through yesterday’s events in chronological order.  Girl, yes.  Akane.  But why in bed?  Fiancée!  No—there’s no way.  Pops talked to me about—we talked.  Yes.  And both sleeping in the bed seemed reasonable at the time.

Ranma’s first coherent thought of the morning finally surfaced.  She’s going to kill me.  Ranma waited for Akane to turn and scream.

The redhead was not disappointed.  “Eeek!  PERVERT!” the dark haired girl exclaimed, knocking Ranma off of her bed by abruptly extending her arm at the elbow and smashing her fist into the other girl’s face.

Ranma toppled over, landing on her neck.  “Sorrysorrysorry!” she screeched, her hands up in a warding gesture.  A small whimper from beneath Ranma informed her that Joi had mistakenly thought it was a good idea to sleep next to Akane’s bed.  A somewhat squished dog wormed its way out from underneath the redhead.

Akane peered over the edge of her bed, her eyes wide and contrite.  “Ranma!  I forgot!”  She reached out with both arms and pulled Ranma back up onto the bed with surprising ease.  “I’m so sorry… oooh, that looks like it hurts…”

Ranma attempted a smile.  “Remind me never to surprise you.”

Akane’s apologetic gaze turned abruptly into a deeper sorrow that Ranma couldn’t read.  “Let’s get ready for school,” she suggested suddenly, masking that sorrow and shame with a sunny smile.

The redhead blinked at her.  Several things surprised her.  First of all, Ranma had never seen anybody’s expression change that many times in the space of a second.  And there was also… “School?” Ranma inquired, eyebrows raised.  “But…”

“Well, you are going to be here awhile, right?” the dark-haired girl inquired.  “You might as well get an education!”

Ranma found she couldn’t disagree with the other girl, although a nervous pang attacked her stomach.  It had been ages since she’d been to school with any regularity, and she expected Akane would be ten times as smart as she was.  A shy glance at Akane confirmed that she seemed quite serious about this one.  The other girl was already brushing her hair in front of the mirror in a businesslike fashion, ignoring Ranma for all intents and purposes.  She didn’t expect an argument from the redhead.

“I’ll go and, ah, brush my teeth then,” Ranma offered quietly, slipping from the room.  Joi followed.

In the bathroom, Ranma warred with Nabiki for use of the sink.  The middle Tendo girl was obviously not a morning person; her short hair was tousled, standing up at all odd angles, and one of her eyes appeared to be more open than the other.  When Ranma wished her a good morning, she cursed in reply—or at least, that’s what it sounded like.  Hoping for a warmer reception, Ranma moved downstairs to see if anyone else was awake yet.

The eldest Tendo daughter, Kasumi, was putting some muffins into the oven as Ranma made her way downstairs.  “Mornin’, Kasumi,” the redhead greeted with a smile.  Joi barked happily and made his way to the stove, sniffing the air eagerly.

Kasumi smiled cheerily back.  “Would you mind setting the table for me, Ranma-chan?”

Ranma’s smile twitched, but she immediately and automatically moved to comply.  Kasumi thought she was a girl, after all.  Besides, she meant to pull her weight at the Tendos’, even if it meant doing women’s work.  Pops was right: the Tendos had no particular reason to keep her here, so she’d best do what she could to earn her keep.  She accepted the plates Kasumi handed her and placed them at equidistant spots on the empty table.  Then she placed the teacups on each plate, and tossed the chopsticks on top.

Kasumi’s hand fluttered to her mouth in mild surprise.  “Ranma… you don’t… you’ve never…?”  But she was already moving the teacups and chopsticks to their proper places as she spoke. 

“It matters?” 

The eldest Tendo girl paused, actually considering Ranma’s question; in that moment, Ranma felt herself relax.  Kasumi was really nice not to snap back at her, and she didn’t seem to have to make an effort at keeping her temper the way Akane did.  Instead of being rude back, Kasumi was actually going to answer her question honestly!  “Well, it does look prettier when each thing goes to the place where it belongs,” she said contemplatively, looking at the table as though she saw not plates, cups, and napkins, but some kind of intricate pattern beyond Ranma’s comprehension.  “Also, I’ll bet in the old days it stopped arguments.”

This didn’t make much sense to Ranma, and her puzzlement was plain on her face.  “If everybody did it the same way, nobody could say whose was better?”

Kasumi grinned at her briefly.  “Maybe—but not what I meant.  If the cup always goes to the upper right of the plate, there is never any question which cup is yours, is there?  Warriors in the feudal days found the oddest things to argue about.  Why, I read an account in my high school history class in which Yoroboshi the Incredibly Large started a skirmish over a chicken bone he believed was his.  Hundreds of lives were lost.”[2]           She calmly sipped a sample of the miso she had been cooking on the stovetop.

Ranma began to seriously wonder whether high school rotted the brain when Akane bounded down the stairs in a light blue and white school uniform.  A wide blue bow held most of her hair back, except for two slender strands framing her face.  “Mmm.  What smells so good?” she demanded.  Her eyes passed to Ranma.  “What are you doing sitting there?  We’ll be late if you don’t go get some clothes on.  Shoo!”

When Ranma leapt up the stairs, her sharp ears heard the beginnings of a conversation about her, but she continued on to Akane’s room where her small pack was sitting in a corner.  She found that she trusted both Kasumi and Akane, and had no particular reason to listen in.

 

*****-----*****

 

Nabiki, of course, had no such compunctions.

“…dog,” Kasumi finished tightly.  “Are you willing to take care of it, Akane?  What if Ranma does not?”

“Ranma will,” Akane’s younger, more stringent voice declared firmly.  “And if, for some reason, she breaks her leg or something, I will.”

Kasumi sighed.  “And are you willing to take responsibility for Ranma herself?  This is quite important, Akane.  Are you willing to take slights upon her upon yourself, and her misdeeds as well?”

“Ranma’s honorable!” Akane exclaimed, bristling.  “She would never do anything to embarrass me!”

There was a completely silent pause; Nabiki could not even hear breathing.  Then, Kasumi spoke again.  “Think about this, Akane,” she advised.

“I have already,” Akane said.  “You have no idea what Ranma has gone through, Kasumi.  A lot of what she’s told me makes me miserable inside, and I have the feeling I’ve only begun to scratch the surface.  I’d be honorless myself if I didn’t help her out at least a little.  And I don’t mind helping out a lot.”

Nabiki heard the smile in Kasumi’s words.  “I’m glad, Akane-chan.  I like her.”

A relieved sigh from Akane.  “Me, too!”

Nabiki descended the rest of the way down the stairs.  “Morning,” she offered tiredly, going straight for the coffee and pouring herself a steaming cup.

“Good morning, oneechan!”  Akane’s smile was bright with the promise of a new project.  Nabiki wasn’t so certain about how things were going, though.  Akane’s last ‘project’ had been a tiny bird she had rescued after it had fallen out of its nest, several months ago.  And it had died.

Still she gamely offered a good morning, exchanging a significant glance with her elder sister before sliding to her usual place at the table.  Miso and muffins.  Kasumi was nothing if not versatile.

“Come on, Ranma, or you’ll miss breakfast!” Akane called upstairs before seating herself as well.

Soun Tendo slid into his usual spot without looking up, a pipe between his teeth and a newspaper in his hands. 

“You’d be surprised how fast I can eat!” floated down from upstairs.  Akane snorted and took a bite of muffin.  Kasumi seated herself as well, sipping her soup delicately. 

No one noticed what was missing until Ranma slid into the kitchen in her stocking-feet and began eating like some kind of machine.  “Where’s pops?” she inquired, also at super-sonic speed.

Soun suddenly seemed to realize that the outside world existed.

“Where’s my dad?” Ranma repeated more normally.  “He didn’t wake me up this morning; he always does.”

“He said he’d gone to find part-time work,” Soun replied, raising his paper again and shaking it out in front of him.

“He… he did?”  The redhead blinked, surprised.  “Hell must have frozen over!”

Kasumi blinked at her disapprovingly—only Kasumi could manage to do such a thing—but Nabiki and Akane smirked.

Or maybe, the redhead thought with some trepidation, they were actually going to stay awhile?  Without a fight?  She crossed her fingers under the table in hope. 

With all the thinking, Ranma had stopped eating.  She resumed with a fervor usually reserved for a lion at the kill.  Akane, Nabiki, and Soun joined Kasumi in staring incredulously at the redhead as food literally seemed to disappear off of her plate.

Ranma covered a burp daintily with one hand.  “Seconds, please?” she queried politely.

Wordlessly, Kasumi served Ranma Genma’s soup and muffin.  Down they went, into Ranma’s Foodspace (similar to Akane’s as of yet undiscussed and unexhibited Malletspace).  Never to (speakably) return.

Nabiki shook her head to herself and stood, grabbing her small, black leather  briefcase, obviously preparing to leave.

Akane leapt up, dark hair swishing, moments behind Nabiki.  “Just a second!” Akane exclaimed.  “I’ll go with you!”

“Nonsense, little sister,” Nabiki said with a sharklike smile.  “Your friend over there, the human vacuum, looks like she isn’t done yet.  Why don’t you wait for your fiancée?”

Akane paused, motion utterly arrested, then blushed, stammering some kind of denial.  But she also stayed.

Ranma knew when she was being waited on; she swallowed the rest of her miso in one big gulp, and dashed to Akane’s side with a perky grin.  “We ready?”

Joi barked in response, and jumped a bit.

Ranma’s expression fell.  “Not you, boy.  I’m going to school.  You have to admit you don’t have must use for the book learnin’.”

Joi turned dark, liquid brown eyes to Akane.

They’re called puppy-eyes for a reason.  Akane’s own expression immediately softened.  “Come on, Ranma; I know someone who would be happy to take care of Joi while we’re at school.  That way he can walk us at least halfway.”

Ranma conceded.  She didn’t like having Joi away from her any longer than humanly possible, anyway.

The three set out.  Ranma tugged at her best Chinese shirt, made of medium-blue silk, trying to make it fit her more properly.  Joi gamboled alongside Ranma and Akane, letting out an enthused bark occasionally, hiding behind Ranma during more scary times like when automobiles passed, when other people got too close, or when there was a noise louder than a pindrop.  Joi was not exactly the bravest of dogs, but Ranma loved him for one, solid reason: he kept away certain other animals.[3]

Akane swung her case back and forth in one arm, obviously in high spirits.  She had made a new friend who had a fascinating secret—and she was responsible for Ranma!  That made it all the more exciting.

Suddenly, Ranma looked up at the fence next to the sidewalk.  With a grin, she leapt up onto the narrow length of metal, her arms out for balance.  After a moment, she lowered them; a lot easier than she’d thought.  Joi half-leapt up on his hind legs nervously, as though demanding she come down.

Akane blinked up at her with an odd smile on her face.  “I once knew a girl in Bridgewater that could walk the ridgepole of a roof,” she quoted wryly.

“Akane!”  A new voice sounded from down the street; a sweet, beautiful smile lit Akane’s features as she heard it.

“Tofu-sensei!” she exclaimed happily.  She turned to Ranma excitedly—  “This was the person I was talking about!”— before jogging to the older man’s side.  Ranma leapt down and followed, stopping several feet away from the pair.

Tofu-sensei was a handsome enough young man, with a martial artist’s physique and mild features.  “Akane!  And who is your friend?”

Akane was blushing, Ranma noticed.  “I’m Ranma, sir.  Nice to meetcha.”  She bowed.

“Saotome Ranma?” Tofu inquired.  “But… I heard that you and Akane were to be engaged!”

Akane giggled nervously.  “Well sensei, as you can see, that’s not much of a possibility.”

She and Tofu laughed together briefly, while Ranma felt herself begin to fume.  She had been… left out, somehow, and felt the need to return the attention to herself.  She might have done something stupid if Tofu had not begun to stare at her dog.

“And this is?” Tofu inquired, crouching slightly to bring himself to Joi’s level.

Much to Ranma’s secret joy, Joi cringed and barked.  “That’s Joi, sir.  I’m afraid he isn’t much good around strangers.”[4]

“We were wondering if you could watch him for a bit, though,” Akane said, smiling.  “It’s hard to keep him from Ranma, but we need to get to school; if we don’t hurry, we’ll be late as it is.”

Tofu nodded.  “Alright then, dears.  Why don’t you two go off and have a good time at school?  Try not to get into any trouble, Akane…”

Akane lowered her gaze, her eyes suddenly bright.  “Certainly, doctor.  I mean… I haven’t been doing anything that would…”  She bowed low.  “Thank you very much,” she said, and spun.

Ranma wondered if her girl body was beginning to affect her mind, as she suddenly had the raw urge to slam the other man into the wall behind him with a great deal of force.  She clamped down on the strange inclination; maybe Akane’s legendary temper was simply rubbing off on her.  Ranma contented herself with casting Tofu-sensei a very dirty look before hurrying after her new friend.  Joi barked, but held still when Tofu gently took him by the muff.

Ranma spent the next couple of moments catching up to Akane, who had sped ahead.

“We’re going to be late,” Akane offered in response to a curious look from Ranma, though the redhead could tell her eyes were still suspiciously bright.

“I’m surprised Joi went with Tofu-sensei at all,” Ranma offered, trying to get Akane to talk about whatever was bothering her.  “That dog got way more comfortable with me after the curse, to be honest.  He just hates guys.”

“I know how he feels,” Akane mumbled.

“Hn?” Ranma queried, watching the strange interplay of emotions on Akane’s fluid features.  She was becoming angry again, though, Ranma could tell…

“I… HATE… boys!” she exclaimed, skidding to a sudden halt. 

Ranma was wrong; Akane’s expression was settling on shocked, instead.  The dark-haired girl scanned the area as though she was looking for something in the school’s empty courtyard.  Her muscles went quietly slack.

“Quite the boorish lot,” a cold voice sounded behind the pair.

Akane and Ranma spun as one being to stare at a very tall young man ten feet behind them.  Akane was tensing again already, though; Ranma watched, taking her cue from the only person she knew and perhaps the only one she’d ever trusted who wasn’t family or Ucchan.  The redhead’s eyes narrowed and she slipped into a stance with a startling ease.  “What lot?” she demanded.  “I don’t see anyone here but you, me, n’ Akane—and if you’re implying that about one of us, you’d better back right up, buddy.”

Neither girl nor boy reacted.  Akane simply stared at the young man in front of them as though expecting him to reveal more of his hand; she neither addressed him nor moved towards him in any way.  Instead, she held herself with a sort of ready caution, as though she were not certain whether he intended to attempt murder or wish her a good morning.[5]

Ranma took the opportunity to examine her situation further.  The young man in front of Ranma was beautiful, if in a haughty and somewhat supercilious way.  He held a rose in one hand, not as though he intended to give it to anybody particularly, but as though he were accustomed to carting one around.  Something about him gave Ranma the shivers.  She’d met other boys like him on her journeys, young men so convinced of their own battle prowess that they got themselves killed ten times more easily than the average male.  It was a wonder, in fact, that Mother Nature hadn't weeded his type from the population long ago by natural selection.

There was plenty of space, which bespoke good conditions for her fighting style, if it came to that.  A large swimming pool shimmered almost completely out of sight on the right side of the school.  Ranma’s blue eyes flicked up the facade; several students were hanging out the windows, witnessing the spectacle below, Nabiki among them.  The redhead searched Nabiki’s features for a moment, but the middle Tendo girl appeared to be as confused and concerned as Akane herself.

Finally, Akane spoke.  “Well, Kuno?”

“Akane Tendo: will you do battle with me?”  He tossed her the rose; Akane ignored it, letting it whistle past her cheek.

Ranma, however unfortunately, caught it out of sheer reflex.  “What the--?” she murmured.  Then she noticed the thin stream of blood dripping down Akane’s face just below her right eye.  A thorn had scraped her as the rose had gone whizzing through the air.  Ranma’s fists clenched at her sides.  “Akane,” she said softly, her voice dangerous.  “Go inside.”  She wanted to tear this ridiculous upstart apart with her bare hands.

Akane ignored Ranma for all intents and purposes.  “I refuse you,” she said frostily, her eyes fixed on Kuno. 

“If you refuse a challenge,” he replied, seeming quite surprised by this development, “you cast aspersions on your entire clan.”

“I’ll take up your damned challenge!” Ranma declared cockily, flicking her braid over her shoulder.

Once again, she was ignored as Akane considered Kuno’s reply, a discouraged expression on her face.  “Kuno, why do you have to?” she finally implored.  “I keep beating you—and I wouldn’t date you even if you won!”

Ranma blinked furiously, half shocked that she’d been ignored—again—and half wondering what Akane was talking about.  Dating?  At the same time, she recalled where she knew the name ‘Kuno’ from: Akane put this guy in the hospital!

“Ridiculous!” he asserted haughtily, but there was a bit of doubt on his face.

Akane nodded at him, her eyes wide with the effort to fix him to her gaze, to convince him of the truth of the matter.  “We’re not meant for each other, sempai.  Plain and simple.  I tried to tell you with my fists, but maybe that wasn’t the best way.”

“Nonsense!” he repeated.  “You are simply… shy…”

From the window, Ranma’s sensitive ears caught some conversation.

“You mean someone’s trying to use logic on Kuno?”

“Like trying to use your finger to smash a rock.” [6]  The redhead recognized Nabiki’s acerbic intonation.

Akane shook her head.  “Shy… Yes.  Shy enough not to tell you how I really feel…”

For a moment, Kuno’s eyes brightened.

“I detest you,” Akane said firmly, her own gaze glacial.  “You and that stupid hakama, and your stupid bokken, and your stupid haughtiness.”  Tears leaked from her eyes—tears of bitterness and frustration.  “The way you incited all the boys in this school to fight me every morning until it became routine—the way you made me angry enough to really hurt you, and the fact that you could again.”  She wiped her tears with a hasty hand, impatient with herself.  “You made me hate myself.  I could never forgive you for that… m-much less… d-date you…”   Tears were now streaming down the dark-haired girl’s face, but she ignored them, her stare blazing, her fists clenched.  “Sayonara, Kuno-sempai.”  She spun, ignoring Kuno, ignoring Ranma, ignoring everything and everyone except the hurt in herself.  As if in response to her own emotions, as though Akane was some kind of minor kami, the skies opened and it began to pour.

The dark-haired young man stared after her, then turned his attention to the redhead.  “And who are you?” he demanded, a deep unsettlement in his eyes.

Ranma opened her mouth to reply—

“Never mind,” he said suddenly, with an abortive wave of his hand.  “Pray—give this to Tendo Akane if you get the chance.”  Quickly he drew a pen and a sheet of very fine paper from inside his shirt.  After scribbling briefly on it, he handed it to Ranma.  Bowing deeply, he backed away from her and began to stride in the opposite direction.

Ranma stared at the small note in her hand, then stared after him.

He turned to gaze at the redhead, as though there was something he had forgotten to mention.  “Thank you.”

Ranma nodded.  Then, once his back was turned, she ripped the note into tiny wet pieces and strode inside.

 

*****-----*****

 

Ranma wandered through the school aimlessly, having no idea where Akane might go if upset.  Altogether it appeared to be a nice school as schools went; the clocktower had rung in the school day easily twenty minutes ago.  Several trophies lined the walls, many for kendo, kempo, or more obscure martial arts; it looked like Ranma had come to the right place. 

“Hey!”

Ranma turned at the sound of a female voice.  A young girl in the same outfit as Akane came trotting up to her.  “Hi,” Ranma said, bowing a bit.

“You looking for the bathroom or something?” the girl inquired.

The bathroom!  Of course!  Ranma wanted to hit herself.  “Uh, yeah.”

“I don’t mind showing it!  This is your first day, huh?”

“And I got drenched,” Ranma agreed.  “Not the best beginning.”

“I’m Yuka.  What’s your name?”

“Ranma Saotome,” Ranma replied.  “I’m staying with Akane Tendo at her place right now.”

“Akane?  You’re looking for her, aren’t you?”

Ranma froze, but nodded after a moment.

“We’re in the same boat, then,” Yuka replied with a sigh of relief.  “I’ve got Sayuri checking the bathroom upstairs, and I’m certain Nabiki has her people combing everyplace else.”

Her people? Ranma wondered.  Nabiki sounded positively Yakuza. 

“Oh—here we are,” Yuka said, stepping through the door marked ‘female.’

Ranma stared at the sign, something deep within her panicking.  The girl’s bathroom?  The redhead took a deep breath as though she believed that a new planet with uncertain air lay beyond the threshold, squared her shoulders, and pushed through.  Other than the fact that it was both pink and oddly clean, it looked just like the boy’s room at her old junior high.  The sounds of sniffling were emerging from one of the five stalls to her left. 

“Akane?” Yuka demanded.

The sniffling stopped abruptly.

Yuka placed her hands on slender hips.  “Tendo Akane, I know you’re in here someplace; come out, your fiancée is here.”  She pushed the redhead forward in the guise of patting her on the back.

“Ranma?”  It was hard to believe the thin, reedy voice emerging from one of the stalls belonged to Akane.

“Hey, Akane… you in there?”

There was a short pause.  “No, dummy, it’s somebody else; I’m in Hokkaido.”  Her voice was rough from crying, but she now sounded a great deal more herself.  After another small space, a bathroom door opened and she slid out, slightly shamefaced.  “Sorry,” she said, head hung.  “I needed a good cry.”

Yuka stepped forward immediately, to envelop Akane in her arms.  “Hey, honey,” she said softly, stroking Akane’s hair.  “You okay?”

Ranma almost stepped backward in surprise.  “H-huh?” she blurted unthinkingly.  “A-are you two...?”

Yuka and Akane both turned, Akane still in Yuka’s arms.  “Hn?” Yuka asked absently.

Akane quickly explained.  “We’re best friends,” she said.  Her eyes met Yuka’s.  “Ranma went to a boy’s school last.”

Yuka blinked.

“Long story,” Akane said, as though that explained everything immediately.

For some reason, Yuka acted as though it did.

The girl’s room door slammed open and a fourth girl sped inside.  “Is Akane—?  Akane!” she exclaimed, hugging the girl in question.

The Tendo girl blushed.  “Were you all looking for me?” she inquired.

Ranma, Yuka, and the new girl all nodded.  “No big deal,” Ranma assured her quickly, as tears threatened.

“No, not again!” Yuka exclaimed. 

“Happy tears!” Akane informed them, wiping her cheeks with the heel of one hand.  She reached out with both hands and squeezed Ranma and Yuka on their shoulders.  “Thanks.  Yuka, Sayuri—let me formally introduce you to my…”

“Fiancée,” Yuka filled in with a wide grin.

“How did you guys know?  Even that doctor guy knew!” Ranma wondered.

“Doctor Tofuuu?” Sayuri drawled, following it up with a giggle.  Akane swatted her.

Yuka ignored the other two girls, as that sort of teasing was quite routine between them.  “Tendo Nabiki, of course.  Want your head on a pike?  Just ask her.”

“In fact, you don’t even have to ask,” Sayuri interjected again.

Akane rolled her eyes.  “Come on guys, my sister’s not that bad.”

Ranma was having a little trouble even following them.  “She’s a headhunter?” she queried intelligently.

“Among other things,” Akane replied.[7]  “But most people make her out to be a lot worse than she actually is.”

“She made Jet ‘Pitbull’ Domo cry yesterday,” Sayuri countered darkly.

Akane shrugged.  “Wimp,” she proclaimed.  “Come on, Ranma; let’s get to class, okay?”

A smile twitched at the edges of Ranma’s mouth.  Girls were so delicate, but… crisis averted.  She nodded.

Sayuri, Akane, and Yuka exchanged a glance.  “We are sooo late,” they said in unison.  They headed for the door.

 

*****-----*****

 

The teacher lifted his eyeglasses higher onto his nose, his monotone voice introducing Saotome Ranma.

“Uhm… excuse me, sir…” Ranma said in a slightly nervous voice.  “That’s not how you write my name…”

“Oh?”  The mousy man appeared to find this to be some kind of personal affront.  “Please, enlighten me.”

Ranma gulped, meeting Akane’s eyes.  The dark-haired girl shrugged at her, then nodded.  “It doesn’t have the flower there.  It’s the horse character—ma, see?”[8]  She reached out and corrected it on the board behind her.

“That’s a boy’s name,” the sensei countered.

“My pops wanted a boy, sir.”

“Well then, Saotome Ranma, perhaps you’ll take a seat next to Akane?”

Ranma nodded.  “Thanks a lot, she’s my, er, best friend!”  Ranma blinked.  She was about to say ‘fiancée’ like those two crazy girls.  Great.[9]

“No matter the spelling of your name, or the extenuating circumstances with Kuno-san, you, your ‘best friend’, and her two best friends, were all late this morning.  Please stand in the hall.”

 

*****-----*****

 

“So what’s Kuno’s deal, anyway?” Ranma demanded, one of her buckets resting steadily on her head.  It was good balance practice and besides, her arms were tired; she just wasn’t used to carrying things around as a girl.

Yuka sighed.  “Awhile ago, Kuno decided that anybody who wanted to date Akane had to beat her first.”

“…in ‘honorable combat’,” Akane added dully.

“Not that it’s even close to honorable anymore,” Sayuri put in.  “After awhile, they all just started to attack at once, y’know?”

Ranma blinked.  “Who’s ‘they’?”

“Oh, that’s right!” Sayuri replied, bringing her fist down into her open palm in realization.  “The entire male population didn’t attack Akane today!”

Ranma recalled Akane’s surprised look at the empty walkway leading up to the school, and her sudden, skidding stop.  “Why not?”

Yuka sighed dramatically.  “Since this was the first day Kuno was back from the hospital, he demanded this one day to himself, apparently.  But you told him, Akane!”

“How much do you want to bet that Nabiki has a tape of that?” Sayuri demanded of Yuka slyly.  “I want to watch it over and over.”

“Audio or video?”

“SAOTOME RANMA!”  Kuno came barreling down the hallway, still carrying his buckets.  “IS IT TRUE?!”

Ranma found herself backing away from the madman, followed closely by Akane.

“Is what true, exactly, upperclassman?” Akane said in a heated voice.

“THAT YOU ARE ENGAGED?!  TO ONE ANOTHER?!”

Yuka and Sayuri winced in concert as the windows behind the five students opened and began spitting out teenagers in various states of distress.  “Akane, how could you?  You said you hated boys!”  “That’s a girl.  Wearing boy’s clothing.”  “Knew it all along—didn’t I say just yesterday that Akane was a dy—”

“Our—our parents decided...” Akane was exclaiming, waving her hands in protest. 

“It’s not like that!” Ranma screeched, blushing as she heard some of the dirtier comments.  “Akane’s a nice girl!”  She couldn’t quite say the same for herself, of course, not feeling much like a girl of any kind.

“Now I understand truly why you shied from me earlier this morning, Tendo Akane,” Kuno pontificated.  “Thy honor-bound heart was, er, bound already to this redheaded upstart.  Lovely though she may be, your blooms would be wasted on one another.”

Akane’s face was turning an unflattering shade of purple.  “I… I never!” she finally managed.  “Kuno-san… whatever gave you such an idea?  And I was utterly sincere when I said I hated your guts, damn it!”

Ranma’s cheeks were heating, too, but no longer from embarrassment.  “All right, buddy, that’s it.  You seem like you’ve got a death wish— or maybe not fighting Akane this morning just threw your whole schedule out of whack.”  She slipped into a waiting stance, an almost scary focus in her eyes and a smile that was definitely scary hovering over her lips.  “We haven’t been properly introduced,” she hissed.  “I’m Saotome Ranma, heir to the Anything-Goes school of Martial Arts, otherwise known as the guy who’s going kick your ass from here back to whatever the hell you crawled out from under.”

And despite ending her sentence in a preposition and slipping up with an important pronoun, Ranma did finally manage to spoil for a fight—on page twenty-six.

 

*****-----*****

 

Furinkan High was an old school; it had been built in 1925, and rebuilt in 1953, and refurbished at some indeterminate point in the 80’s.  For as long as the school had been in existence, the headmaster or mistress had always been a person of dignity and respect, beloved by students, honored by teachers, and trusted by the Nerima community.  And if you believe that, there’s a lovely uncursed spring I’d like to sell you.

As such, the Furinkan students possessed the respect due such a hallowed institution.

Fifty students flew down the hallways in pursuit of a red pigtail and a white hakama.  Fifty students gained one gym teacher, a history professor (plus class), and a small film crew as they fled the hallways to the sanctity of the Fighting Ground. 

Ranma was in her element.  Somehow, the new dark-haired girl in her life had a way of keeping her from jumping around as was proper, or showing off, which was less proper but at least as much fun.  She leapt through the hallways at super-sonic speed, tossing insults over her shoulder until she was pretty sure Kuno would appreciate tearing her limb from limb.  Then she tossed some more insults.

One thing caught her attention, though.  The buzz behind her, created by the growing number of Furinkan High students and faculty, indicated that the prize in this fight was Akane herself.  A glance behind her showed that Akane had gone from being purple to an angry pink; her expression promised violence to anyone who said she was a ‘prize’ to her face.  Moved by some foreign impulse, Ranma grinned impudently at her and winked.  Akane blushed in surprise, then stuck out her tongue and turned her face away from him in an angry huff, chin high.

Furinkan students spilled out of the front doors sheer moments after the sprinting Ranma and Kuno, instinctively encircling their prey.  Ranma was surprised at first to hear that many of the students were rooting for her—but maybe it was more that they’d love to see someone win who was not Kuno or Akane.

Kuno brought his bokken to bear, a wicked smile on his face.  “You aren’t bad looking,” he observed.  “If you win—I shall allow you to date with me.”

Ranma faltered briefly.  “And who wants to date you?” she demanded.  “Hey, wait a minute—I don’t wanna fight you at all if that’s what I get as a prize!”

Akane tugged on Ranma’s arm and whispered in her ear.

“Are you sure?”

Akane’s expression flattened.  “Are you?  He’s skilled, Ranma.”

“Hmph!  No one’s beaten me yet—not for long, anyway.  All right—fiancée.  Let’s do this.”

Akane blushed, but her expression remained stony.  “Fine.”

Ranma faced Kuno once again.  “Hey, lunkhead.  How about this prize?”  She raised Akane’s arm into the air by the wrist.

Akane was passing Ranma her best Blazing Stare of Death.

“Akane’s bracelet?”  Voices slid out from the pile of people surrounding the three.

“Idiots!  Akane!” Ranma countered.  “Whoever wins gets Akane, forever.  And whoever loses never talks to Akane again.”

Kuno considered.  “You offer high stakes,” he offered, as though conceding a point in the redhead’s favor.  “Very well, then.  I am in the mood to gamble.  Meet your doom, young woman.  I am Tatewaki Kuno, the rising star of the kendo world, the undefeated new star of the fencing world… but my peers call me the Blue Thunder of Furinkan High!”

“Undefeated?!” Akane growled.  “What do you call what I’ve done to you every morning for the last year?!”

“A setback,” Kuno replied with a rakish grin.  “Now, young lady: on guard!”

Ranma brought her arms up in front of her body, wicked grin comfortably back in place.  As Kuno rushed her, she jumped, leaving the ground as though she weighed less than nothing, only less than nothing wouldn’t be quite so fast… flipping once in the air over the kendoist’s head, she bounced harmlessly off of a young oak, pushing off with her legs.

Tatewaki Kuno, the rising star of the fencing world, had already aimed and struck at the place where Ranma had originally been standing; all it took to aim again was to swing one-hundred-eighty degrees, so he did that, too.  His mighty wooden stick slashed at the oak, rendering it so much firewood.

Ranma was impressed in spite of herself.  “Not bad, kemo-sabe,” she observed, still grinning.  “But you’re far slower than me!”

“You are indeed skilled!” he replied, “but we shall see who holds the final victory.”

Akane was staring at Ranma, slack-jawed.  Blinking dazedly, she watched as Ranma finished her arc to the ground.

“Omigosh!” Sayuri exclaimed excitedly.  “Akane, did you see that?  Did you see that?”

Akane nodded numbly as Ranma seemed to disappear to the naked eye.  Suddenly, the redhead was in front of Kuno, her expression deadly and focused.  “Get this—Akane doesn’t like you.  I don’t like you.  I doubt anybody likes you or wishes to date with you, either!”  Just as suddenly, she had flipped back again, with a speed and alacrity that had the entire crowd gasping with an almost painful awe.  Kuno managed to bring his weapon to the fore just as Ranma flew from the sky, landing a solid blow to his face.

“She’s fast!  Ranma’s fast, isn’t she, Akane?” Sayuri chattered.

“The fastest I’ve ever seen,” Akane replied.

Yuka blinked.  “Faster than you, you mean?”

Akane found herself nodding again minutely, eyes still wide and locked on the fight.  In the time that they had spoken, the fight had already moved close to the statue of Furinkan’s founder, Doctor Leonard Lin.  Lin was depicted with a sword strapped to his arm and an apple on top of his head.  He was also cross-gartered.  No one quite knew why.

With a great deal of surprise, Akane watched as the fight seemed to slow.  Ranma had snatched something out of the air, and appeared to be in shock.  She turned unerringly to face the dark-haired girl.  “Akane, it’s--!”

“Eyes front, idiot!” Akane exclaimed as Kuno finally got in a solid blow to Ranma’s stomach.

“Oof!  But, Akane—”

“Do you want to never speak to me again?” she implored.

“YOU DO NOT TAKE ME SERIOUSLY?!” Kuno screeched, and delivered a series of jabbing attacks that almost rivaled Ranma for speed.

The redhead was forced to fall back, rolling to a stop between Akane’s legs.[10]

“He’s good, Ranma, didn’t I tell you?” she inquired, an exasperated note to her voice.  “Now go back and kick his butt!”

Ranma was blushing.  “You know, blue really is your color,” she opined, before flipping to her feet.

Akane considered this.  Sure, her uniform was blue; why would that make Ranma blush?  A hand flew to her mouth as she realized just what other bits of her clothing happened to be blue today…

Ranma licked a bit of blood off of her lip.

“Hah!  First blood to me!” Kuno declared.

“That’s a nosebleed,” she replied archly.  “You can get one of those from changes in air pressure.”

“Air pressure?”  Kuno laughed maniacally.  “Hah!  This, fool, is pressure…”  With a mighty series of strikes, he began to rend the air.  The statue of Leonard Lin began to crumble next to Akane, Yuka and Sayuri.[11]

“Out of the way!” Ranma screamed at them.  She turned to Kuno.  “And you… you just endangered three girls!”  At the apex of a long, low leap, Ranma’s slender right leg blurred.

Kuno teetered a bit; then, he fell.

Akane let out a whistle of air, the crowd cheered, and the photographers snapped pictures.  In mere moments, however, the people evaporated, most of them being herded back to class by excited teachers and faculty.

“Ranma… what were you trying to tell me, before?” Akane inquired.  “It must have been pretty important…”  She scratched the back of her neck nervously, hoping Ranma would forget she’d called her an idiot.

Ranma giggled nervously, eyes trailing the grass, hoping Akane would forget the comment about her panties.  “You aren’t going to believe this…”

Akane accepted the small pieces of paper from Ranma’s hands—or at least, that’s what they seemed to be at first.  When she began to examine them, she went white, then red.

“What is it?”  Yuka snatched one of the photographs from Akane’s numb hands— for photographs they were, dear reader.

The picture Yuka had claimed was of an innocent enough situation: two girls, asleep.  However, there was something about the way Akane’s arm was wrapped possessively around the smaller redhead’s waist, Ranma’s hand encircled in her own, or perhaps even the suggestive tilt of Ranma’s hips… the camera angle?  In any case, the result was the hint if not the statement of some kind of licentiousness.

The rest of the photographs were worse.  Many of them included bath scenes with even more titillating bits; though said bits were usually covered with some strategic steam.  One such picture included Ranma sitting on the bath stool, scrubbing herself clean; Akane was in the furo already, her forearms resting lightly on the edge of the tub, chin on steepled fingers.  An open, friendly smile was on her face.

The very worst was one in which Ranma was washing Akane’s back.  The redhead was obviously blushing, but what was worse was the relaxed expression on Akane’s face, that easily translated to some other emotion. 

“Oh, dear lord,” Sayuri exclaimed.  “Are these doctored?”

Ranma shook her head.

“Yes,” Akane swiftly replied.[12]

The redhead frowned, surprised, knowing they were not.  But… well, they looked like they were.  Presuming she hadn’t lost her memories of she and Akane shagging like bunnies.

For a moment longer, Akane stared at the photographs.  Ranma was certain she was going to cry, but instead Akane’s eyes narrowed and her lip curled.  “Nabiki.  Is.  Going.  To.  Die,” she growled softly.

“I have to see this,” Sayuri giggled.

Ranma was more concerned.  If Akane had put somebody in the hospital the last time she was this angry, it was no laughing matter—especially if Nabiki was the person she was angry with.  Ranma supposed it only made sense—who else would have had the opportunity to take those pictures?—but that didn’t mean she wanted the middle Tendo girl decapitated, either. 

Nabiki was already awaiting her sister’s return, however, so they didn’t have far to look.  “Hiya sis!” Nabiki exclaimed cheerily.

Akane slowly passed the photographs on to her sister, her expression less angry and more cold.  “Care to explain these?” she inquired.

Ranma bounced on the balls of her feet, ready to step in if her friend decided it was time to play punching bag with the older girl.

Nabiki flipped through the photographs with a faint grin on her face. 

Ranma, watching her carefully, noticed when Nabiki’s smile began to fade: the fourth picture.  She had to remember that; she’d keep them in the same order and look, later.

“Something you want to tell me about your relationship with your fiancée?” she wanted to know.

Ranma placed a restraining hand on Akane’s shoulder.  “There’s nothing going on between Akane ‘n me,” she replied directly.  “Tell me why you took those.”

Nabiki’s face was suddenly all wide-eyed innocence.  “Dear sister-in-law, I did not take these photographs.  Well—there’s this, and this one, too,” she corrected, handing Ranma the picture of the pair asleep, and a picture of Akane breaking some bricks, a nice one.  “But as for the rest… I’m afraid we have a rat on our hands.”

Akane’s position relaxed.  “You mean… you didn’t?  You…”  She went from relaxed to boneless, leaning heavily on Ranma’s arm.

“Of course not.”  Nabiki’s sharklike expression softened a bit.  “I may sell pictures of you, Akane, but they’re all artist’s pieces—not like this filth.”

Ranma watched her secretly admire the shots.  The redhead knew they were good, despite Nabiki’s pronouncement—steam in all the right places and the innocent nature of two girls bathing placed them outside of porn and into ecchi.  Whoever had taken these knew just how not to get into trouble.  From what she knew of the middle Tendo girl, it sounded just like her.

Nabiki’s narrowed eyes were examining her, now, as though she had seen directly into Ranma’s head and didn’t approve.  “Besides,” she added, “these were taken with a different kind of camera than any of the ones I have.”

Ranma perked up.  “Yeah?”

“Sure,” she said artlessly.  “Akane knows I always use Nokias.  I like them.  This was taken with some other beast, a camera for experts if I’m not mistaken.”  She tilted her head to one side as she gave them her professional opinion.  “You know, I’ll bet Kuno-chan decided he didn’t like my prices, Akane, and decided to get some help of his own.  Don’t worry—I’ll get it out of him.”

“Thanks, Nabiki,” Yuka replied, patting Akane on the back.

Sayuri pouted, robbed of her confrontation.

“Come on, Akane, let’s go back home,” Ranma urged.

Akane stared at the redhead in surprise; while Ranma’s brain was wondering why, she suddenly realized she’d called Akane’s place home for the first time.

“The school day’s not over yet, silly!” she exclaimed.  “It isn’t even lunch yet!”

“Oh!”  Ranma squirmed, embarrassed.  “I just… guess it’s been awhile since I’ve matriculated...”

“I know.  Come on—or we’ll be late for third period,” Akane sighed, dragging Ranma along behind her.

As the girls headed off to their respective classes, Akane dragging Ranma by her braid, Kuno continued to twitch, setting dust from the Founder Sculpture singing into the air.  The small disturbance was enough to cause the granite apple to teeter precariously before landing directly onto his head.

It was not a good day to be the Blue Thunder of Furinkan High.

 

*****-----*****

 

Ranma sat, leaning her chin into her hands, eyes unfocused.  She hadn’t remembered school to be quite this boring.  Of course, that had been at a boy’s school, and it had been a great deal more violent—Furinkan was positively pastoral in comparison.

“And thus, the TWO X chromosomes is present in the female, while—”

Honestly—couldn’t they teach anything pertinent?[13]

A small piece of paper hit Ranma in the side of the head.  She jumped, turning to face Akane, who was innocently writing in her notebook, her eyes fixed to the blackboard.

Ranma winced.  She didn’t have a notebook, or paper, or even a pencil.  She’d come to her first day of school woefully unprepared.  The least she could do was pay attention.

“…thus leaving us a great deal of questions concerning gender,” Watakashi-sensei continued.  “Unfortunately, little is definitive on this subject, as scientists have always, in the past, been male themselves.  Maintaining cultural standards has often been the top priority in such supposed scientific experiments.  But why don’t you girls tell me what you think?”

A chorus of giggles from the females in the room sounded and abruptly stopped, through some kind of signal—the nature of which Ranma was not aware.  Maybe girls were supposed to be better at writing and feelings and stuff ‘cause they actually all thought alike.  Some kind of hive mind.  She considered this briefly, then shook herself.  Then why wasn’t she hooked up to it?

Must be something cultural, she decided. [14]

A boy in front of the redhead raised his hand.  “So you’re saying there’s no difference at all?”

“I’m saying we don’t know the nature of the difference for certain, Hiroshi-san,” the sensei replied, shrugging.  “I believe there are differences, but I am not certain, and until I see a study in which women and men are represented in equal numbers on the tallying side, I see no reason to take sides in a possibly endless debate without meaning.  Studies constantly contradict one another, so it seems pointless to pick a side randomly, and dangerously irresponsible to pick one in name of my own gender.  Hikaru,” she tacked on suddenly.

A small, pale boy in the back poked his head up from his notebooks, in which he had been furiously scribbling.  “Y-yes ma’am?”

“That report you handed me last week for extra credit.  Can you explain the problem as you explained it to me?”

Hikaru stood, trembling slightly as all eyes in the room turned towards him.  Ranma felt a brief stab of pity. 

“He’s brilliant,” Akane mouthed behind her hand before turning once again to face the pale boy shaking in the back of the room.

“I mean, Tokyo University did it, but they said it was okay if I took notes…”

Watakashi-sensei nodded encouragingly, but also with a firmness that implied Hikaru best get to the point.

He cleared his throat again; Ranma was getting impatient and her foot tapped on the linoleum softly.  The redhead watched as Hikaru’s eyes became locked on her moving ankle.  Ranma realized she was making the boy even more nervous, and forced herself to still.

“W-well, in any case,” Hikaru said, more nervous than ever.  “It’s like this,” he repeated.  “I went and watched and took notes—but the numbers and everything contradicted this other study I’d seen.  It was weird.  I mean, people are people wherever you go, right?”  He swallowed.  “But it was wrong—that was wrong.”  He paused, collecting his thoughts.  “The first study took children from different areas, some rich areas and some poor ones,” he explained, gaining confidence, his voice almost going like Watakashi-sensei’s: businesslike.  “The scientists showed pictures to each group of children, scenes, and asked the kids to put them in order.  Sometimes they asked the kids what they thought would happen next.”

Ranma watched Akane and several of the other students nod.  She yawned.

“The inner city kids got it all wrong,” the boy continued, now seemingly unaware of the sea of twenty faces paying attention to him.  “They answered incorrectly.  But it wasn’t incorrect, not really.  Some of them were gaijin, and had different cultures with different expectations about how people would and should behave, or what people did first after they woke up, like eat breakfast or brush their teeth.  The scientists thought they had proved that inner city kids were stupider—or that gaijin were—but all they really proved was that they’re different from other kids.  The other study had a more standardized kind of testing system and even though the inner city kids came out a little bit lower, it was nothing like the first one was.”[15]

Watakashi-sensei nodded, her long black hair coming to fall around one shoulder.  “Exactly.  In  a lot of ways, these studies in your book are similar.  This is an old textbook, and I don’t want you girls to take it too much to heart.”

Ranma flipped back to the beginning of the book.  Several other names preceded hers, all the way back to somebody named Takahashi Rumiko in 1973.[16]  She blinked, not having recognized the age of the book in front of her from the start.

“Having said all of that, and further beating a dead horse…” the sensei sighed, “please read pages twenty through thirty-five tonight, and answer the first ten questions at the back of chapter two.  You may have the rest of the time to yourselves.”

“That was more like a sociology lesson,” Yuka opined as she immediately made her way to Akane’s desk.

Akane tsked.  “Shh.  I like Watakashi-sensei, and if her methods of teaching Biology are a little odd, well then, she fits right in here, doesn’t she?”  She crossed her arms over her chest, one eyebrow raised, as though defying anyone to dispute her.

Ranma noticed she did that a lot.

“I thought it was kind of neat, the way she didn’t tell us the way we have to think about it,” Sayuri added.  “That was cool.  Nobody does that.”

“Hikaru was so good today!” Akane added.  “Even when Ranma tapped her foot at him and yawned.”

“You yawned?” Yuka queried flatly.  “Gos is usually so nervous that he never says a word.”

“Think I’ll go apologize,” Ranma offered, creeping away from Akane’s sudden death glare.  She turned to go to the back of the room, where Hikaru was still sitting alone, furiously scribbling in his books.  “Hey,” she offered with a slight wave of her fingers.

Hikaru looked up with something like fear in his eyes.  “Do you want something?”

Ranma’s lips twisted.  Not the best social skills, this one.  “Just apologizing for tapping my foot, before.  I didn’t mean to, it’s just that I have problems sitting still sometimes.”

“What’s the joke?”  Hikaru’s small, bloodshot eyes narrowed.

“Hm?” Ranma was used to people assuming odd things about her—she seemed to either attract chaos or carry a healthy cloud of it wherever she went—but she’d never had anybody be instantly suspicious of her, before.  “Is there something funny?”

The boy blinked at her nervously.  “You’re—here to apologize for tapping your foot?” he finally echoed timorously.

“Well… yeah.  To be perfectly honest, Akane talked me into it, but I am sorry.”  She noticed the pale boy paling even further and leaned closer to him, utterly unaware of what the pose did for her.  “Are… are you okay?” she inquired, thumping him on the back.

In the process of doing so, she noticed Hikaru’s drawing was of her.

Well, not solely of her, but of she and Akane sitting next to one another in class, Ranma obviously daydreaming, Akane looking at the redhead with a combination of exasperation and fond amusement.  Those aspects of the picture were not entirely what caught her eye, however. 

Even to Ranma’s untrained senses, there was something amazing about Hikaru’s art.  Every line seemed to draw the eye to Akane, every arc of the pen.  Ranma was presented as lovely, but Akane seemed to be some kind of goddess tethered to earth, each feature slightly more beautiful than it was in actuality.  The result was a girl who was obviously Akane and yet obviously not.  Other than the two girls and their desks, the rest of the background faded into casual blobs of ready nothingness.[17]

Ranma’s blue eyes flickered up to the other boy’s.  Hikaru’s were wide with fear, and he instinctively cringed.  Ranma supposed she must look furious.  She spun on her heel, sitting down into her own desk with a plop, arms crossed.

“What is it?” Akane inquired.

“Your boy Hikaru.  He’s an utter pervert!” Ranma groused.  That any guy could think of her that way was far beyond disturbing.  Sure, she’d noticed she was pretty, and she’d seen a couple of Chinese villagers look at her once, but it was always the kind of thing she could ignore.  How could he draw her that way, so… so idealized, like a demure girl or something?!  And Akane!  Akane would throw up if she heard about this!

Ranma turned to glare at Hikaru, but saw that he was too far gone to care.  Head in his hands, he was ignoring the outside world entirely.

 

*****-----*****

 

Akane began to walk, swinging her case back and forth cheerily.  A sweet smile was on her face, the kind that Ranma found herself increasingly attempting to ignore.  It wasn’t like she was so cute, or anything, or even especially pretty.

A smile and a wave as Yuka and Sayuri broke off from their little group, and Ranma found herself entranced again.  Well, okay, she was pretty—when she smiled.  But plenty of girls were pretty, and yet managed to go through high school without beating upwards of thirty boys a day.  What was it that Akane had that made her so special?

It had to be that stupid Kuno-baka’s pronouncement, she decided, ignoring Akane for the moment.  As the two neared Tofu-sensei’s clinic, Ranma sighed.  Even though things had calmed lately, it also seemed like things were suddenly a great deal more complicated.  She found her mind flipping back on a seemingly endless repeat between Kuno, Akane, and the odd behavior of Hikaru.

Tofu-sensei greeted them, along with a wildly happy Joi, who leapt up practically into Ranma’s arms the moment he sighted her.  What they were surprised about was the third voice sounding from inside the clinic.

“Is Nabiki hurt?”  Akane slipped abruptly out of her own private ponderings and raced inside, obviously utterly forgetting that she had intended to do her older sister harm herself just hours earlier.

“Nothing like that, Akane,” Tofu announced calmingly.  “Nabiki was just wondering if she could work here as an assistant.  I assured her that she has a job with me whenever she wants one, of course.  Mrs. Santomaya helps me out when she can, but she’s getting on in years.”

Akane blinked at Ranma.  “Huh?”  Joi turned his attention to Akane, now, barking happily.  She knelt to scratch behind his ears.

Nabiki wandered out, a clipboard in her hands.  “So you said you wanted the pink forms where?” she inquired, then looked up, noticing Akane and Ranma for the first time.

Ranma wasn’t quite sure what happened then—another girl thing, she was sure, something she wasn’t meant to understand—but Akane’s eyes were suddenly bright again, and Nabiki’s cheeks were hot.  The older girl quickly averted her eyes, mumbling something with the word ‘bills’ in it, and Akane proceeded to look even more miserable, her eyes now trained on Joi.

With a dawning discomfort, the redhead began to understand.  It was because of her arrival that this had all started.  Obviously the Tendo family couldn’t afford to have her stay with them.  Why hadn’t she figured this out?  Her mind quickly rationalized that she’d never had to take care of a place in her entire life, nor had she grown up knowing what it was to live normally day-to-day.

“The pink ones go in the second file cabinet on the left side of the desk,” Tofu-sensei replied, giving Nabiki the escape she so obviously desired.  Ranma’s opinion of the other man jumped up a couple of notches as she watched Nabiki’s blush quietly fade.

“Sure, doctor,” she replied.  “Thanks.”

Ranma didn’t know much about girl stuff, but she did know about honor.  “Hey, doctor,” she inquired, tugging on his sleeve.

“Hm?”  Tofu turned to look at Ranma, his kind, mild features set as neutral as they would go.

“You don’t suppose I could work here, instead?” Ranma offered, her eyes darting back and forth as she wondered whether she was really doing the right thing.  “I mean, I’m the reason the Tendos have new expenses, me and my dad.  And I’m not even marrying Akane.  As you can see,” she finished.

“I have no objections, but you’ll have to see what Nabiki says, I’m sure,” the doctor replied.

Ranma marched into the back room peremptorily.  “Hey, Nabiki-san.  Is it okay if I work here instead?”

“What do you mean, Ranma?” Nabiki had an impatient tone to her voice, but her eyes searched the other girl’s, as though she intended to extract the secrets of Ranma’s motivations through the force of her gaze alone.[18]

“Well—I’m the reason you’re in a fix—” Ranma began.

“No you’re not,” Nabiki said, cutting the redhead off with a wave of her hand.  “We were in a fix long before you came along, Ranma—the last thing I want is some girl deciding she’s responsible for our problems…”

Ranma’s jaw firmed.  “I am—partially.  Besides, I’d feel—wrong—about staying with your family and not helping out a little.  And—don’t you have a—thing—that you do?  Photographs?”

A little twitch at Nabiki’s lips indicated Ranma had underestimated her.  “Yeah.  A little thing with photographs,” she replied, suddenly amused again.

Ranma nodded.  “Then it’s settled.” 

 

*****-----*****

 

Kasumi fed Ranma dinner and listened politely while Akane ranted about what, in her mind, had been a terrible day.  The redhead found herself copying the way Akane was eating—Akane was hungry and ate quickly, but she didn’t get a speck of rice on her cheeks or in her hair.  Neither did Ranma.

Akane and Ranma brushed their teeth side-by-side, did their homework; Akane made casual comments or raised a cool eyebrow if there happened to be a kanji on Ranma’s notes that she could not read.  They watched some programs and joked about the bad plots on T.V.

When it was very dark and they were very tired they bathed and went to bed.  Ranma stared at the ceiling.  Her life was Normal.

Normal.  Genma would have made it seem like a dirty word—he lived to travel, to wander earth, toughening himself up; he lived for ancient techniques and new experiences.  But Ranma was finding she enjoyed this normalcy.  After all, it was new to her.

In just over twenty-four hours.  Twenty-four hours…

A best friend, asleep beside her.  Her dog curled up near the side of the bed on a warm rug.  School.  A part-time job.

A house, moreover, and a bed to sleep in at all.  No more cold rocks, no more cold ground.  A warm arm draped lazily across her waist.

“You okay?”  Sleepily.

Somebody to ask her if she was okay.  Somebody willing.  “Yeah, Akane.”

In just over twenty-four hours, her life had been turned on its head.