Tendo-Saotome Anything Goes

 

“Apparently, he still didn’t get your meaning,” Nabiki said dryly the next morning, handing Ranma a small slip of paper.

“Hm?  What is it, Ranma-chan?” Kasumi inquired.

“For Ranma Saotome,” Ranma read casually.  “Whee, I’ve an enemy.”  Joi sniffed curiously at the piece of paper in Ranma’s hands, then backed away, sneezing.  It was scented with some kind of rose perfume, Ranma decided.

“Ranma, don’t take the upperclassman so lightly.  He got in a couple of punches last time, and now he knows how you fight.”  Akane was crossing her arms over her chest, that infuriatingly stubborn look on her face.

“I was distracted, the last time,” Ranma countered, crossing her arms over her chest in unconscious parody.

“Right you were,” Akane replied, agreeing.  “And you might be again.  Just be on your guard!”

“I will, I will,” Ranma hissed.  “Geez!”

Nabiki bit into a small pastry.  “You two do stuff the oddest ways,” she commented lazily.  “Hey Kasumi.  Is this how it sounded to you?”  Nabiki put on a lighter, more feminine voice, mimicking Akane.  “ ‘Ranma, the last time Kuno almost hurt you.  It had me worried.’”  Her voice dropped, and she used male speech, mimicking Ranma.  “ ‘Yes, Akane—I was worried, too… about you.’”  

“My goodness, Nabiki,” Kasumi offered, putting one hand to her lips.  “Did you have to be so… accurate?”  The two sisters giggled as Akane and Ranma blushed.

“Waaah!” Soun exclaimed.  “My little girl is worried over her… her…”

“Well, I am worried!” Akane said, seeing as how admitting this would be the only way to stop her father from attempting to complete that sentence.  “Just be careful.”

Ranma nodded.  “Yeah—okay, Akane.  I promise.”

Akane’s smile could have lit the room.  Despite Nabiki’s teasing, the middle girl’s eyes widened, then traveled from Akane’s obvious happiness to Ranma’s just as obvious accepting blush.  She blinked, wondering if she was simply imagining something that wasn’t there.

 

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

 

Ranma strode to the appointed place, her hair bound tightly behind her, her clothing secure and unhindering, Joi nervously following.  Will he rush me? she wondered staring out at Kuno, who looked as ready as she and twice as grim.  Then she noticed something that made her start.  First of all, Kuno was hiding something behind his back; second of all, his bokken was missing.

An only mildly observant person would have made the seemingly obvious connection, but Ranma noticed the way Kuno was holding himself.  If Kuno were holding his blade she would be able to see its tip behind him and to his left.  She could not.

“Decided to leave your sword out of the picture today?” she inquired archly.  Her hands were placed on her hips.

“Sometimes more of a hindrance than a help,” he replied gravely.  He moved his arms in front of him slowly.

“I’m ready,” Ranma announced, sliding her left leg back and giving him a cold stare.

When Kuno brought his hands forward, it was to place them in front of his body, palms up, offering something to Ranma.  For a moment, her eyes couldn’t figure out what it was.  She blinked several times, running her finger on the broken edge of the wood resting on his upturned palms.  A drop of blood beaded on her finger.  With a small gasp, she pulled her hand to her chest, seeking to protect the wound.

“You have me,” he said simply.

The two broken pieces of bokken fell to the dirt with a small clatter at the redhead’s feet.

“I always went easy on Tendo Akane,” he added, his voice slightly urgent as though it was important she know this.  “Until that one day I must have angered her beyond reason.  I knew she was not as good as I—I always knew.  And yet, when the time came that I truly needed to protect myself, I stretched my skills above her to find that nothing was there.”

Ranma blinked at him.  “H-hey, you don’t need to tell me—”

The young man continued obliviously.  “She had gotten better, of course, while I had maintained myself at precisely the same level as before.  A foolish mistake, not worthy of the Great… of me.”  His eyes finally met Ranma’s. 

“I managed to do it again,” he replied, ignoring her protests.  “Another foolish mistake.  I convinced myself, whilst bedridden, that some outside force had tampered in the battle—that no one could truly best the Blue Thunder without some kind of help…  But you are the second, Saotome Ranma, and indubitably not the last.  Moreover, you did it easily.  If the lovely Akane had not distracted you…” he paused as though the thought pained him.  “…It would have been over far more quickly.”

Kuno lowered himself until he knelt in front of her.  “My life is yours, Saotome Ranma, to do with what you will.  Though your clothing does not betoken a noble lineage, your face, your well-defined features, and your indomitable spirit speaketh more truly.  The house of Kuno is not ashamed to kneel before such a one.”

Ranma’s breath quickened with something like sheer panic, and she glanced at Joi in sheer incredulity.  Upperclassman Kuno kneeling on his broken sword before her was not exactly what she had expected when she’d come.  She gulped.  “Wh-what about Akane?  Shouldn’t you be offering your life to her?”

“I am forbidden to speak with the goddess Akane,” he replied simply, “having lost the fight for her honor.” 

Ranma wanted to hit herself.  “Of course,” she said, and even she could hear the panic rising in her voice and feel the blush heating her face.  What now?  “What is it you’re offering me, Kuno?”

“It is not a business deal,” he replied softly.  “What you have, you have whether you wish it or no.  My life, my services as a samurai.”

Ranma finally did the only thing she could think of.  “Er, Kuno… you said I only look like a lady, right?”

He nodded, viewing her curiously.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say next,” she confided sotto voce.  “Men don’t usually pop out of the woodwork and offer their lives to me.”

Tatewaki Kuno had the grace to appear amazed.  “They don’t?”

For the first time (but not the last) Ranma wondered whether Kuno realized his behavior was out of the ordinary.  “No,” she replied, somewhat more curtly.

He replied, still speaking in the half-whisper with which Ranma had introduced this topic.  “You thank me for my great sacrifice and take me into your service,” he replied, as though giving instructions to a bit-part actress who’d forgotten her one line on opening night.

Feeling a bit silly, Ranma sighed.  “Well—okay.”  She straightened her shoulders; Saotome Ranma always did things the right way when she could.  “Kuno…”  She paused again.  “What’s your first name?” she inquired.

“Tatewaki.”

“Kuno Tatewaki,” she intoned.  “I thank you for your great sacrifice and take you into my service.”  In a burst of inspiration, she added,  “you will be expected to do the following: help me out if I ask, and not bother Tendo Akane unless she says she wishes it and not before.  Er… rise.”

He did so.

“Are you sworn to do whatever I say?” Ranma inquired.

Tatewaki Kuno nodded proudly.

“Hop on one foot,” Ranma ordered.

He grimaced, but he hopped.

Joi blinked up at Ranma, then swung his curious gaze to Tatewaki Kuno.  He barked in confusion, his eyes following the kendoist’s movement, his nose sniffing the air. 

“Just checking.  Well—alright, then,” the redhead replied, as though something had been settled for the best.  “See you tomorrow.  Oh, and—wear more normal-looking clothing, okay?  I mean, I know I wear some loose stuff but that’s for a reason.  That hakama just gets in your way when you fight and looks silly besides.”

Kuno nodded as though he had just received orders in war, and strode off.

Ranma shrugged to herself, then picked up Kuno’s pieces of splintered bokken, popping her finger in her mouth to suck the blood away.

Kuno seemed the excitable type; likely he’d forget this fealty thing by tomorrow.

 

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

 

Ryoga pushed a small branch out of his way, moving with increased difficulty.  Whoever had put this large forest in the middle of Tokyo was going to be very, very sorry, he vowed.  Taking a deep breath, he moved on, revenge at the burning core of him, sustaining him, keeping him strong for his trek.

Darkness pulled at the edges of his vision and he was combating his desire to sleep with his desire to go and settle his grudge with Ranma, when a sudden noise behind him made him halt cautiously.  Ryoga brought his combat umbrella to bear, just in case.  The perennially lost boy frowned, straining to hear another noise, but sighed when nothing came.

Just another forest animal…

…forest animal…?

Ryoga concentrated again.  The forest had fallen utterly silent.  Cricket’s cree-creeing had halted as though a conductor had cut off the sound with a sharp movement of his hand.  Nothing moved, not even the wind.  All he could hear was his own suddenly labored breath. 

He placed his pack down and began to edge discreetly for a very high tree.  Bears could climb them, of course, provided the tree managed to support them—but at least Ryoga could expect attack from only one direction.  Slowly he turned to face the tree.

The next thing he knew, he was waking up after a brief encounter with an English oak.

And what was one of those doing in Tokyo proper? Ryoga wondered, pulling himself to his feet.  Whatever had thrown him was large and fast.  He kept his back to the tree behind him.  “Show yourself!” he classically demanded.

The villain classically refused, but it had to close in eventually, just to strike.  When it did, Ryoga was ready for it.

The Lost Boy’s readiness did not matter.  The large beast in front of him was, in fact, utterly indifferent to it.  It stood, drooling, on four massive legs, each the size of a seventy-year-old tree, similarly knarled and colored.  Its body was compact in comparison, heavy like an elephant’s, but with nothing like a mastodon’s face.  The face of the animal looked like some kind of mad dog gone wrong; teeth stuck out at odd angles in various sizes.  It had a flat snout and its eyes were yellow and mean.

It gave Ryoga the courtesy of the time it took to process those facts before once again hurling him bodily into another tree.

He slid down, cursing weakly.  Ryoga was in bad shape.  He hadn’t eaten in three days or slept in two, and he’d just been smashed against a large, heavy object.  Twice.[1]  He was in bad shape, seeing two of the monster and not certain which was the real one.  Still, he was Ryoga Hibiki, and that meant not giving up in spite of, or perhaps because of, the odds.  He brought his umbrella woozily to bear.

Ryoga looked down at his hands and made the connection in his brain—very difficult at this point—that the umbrella had come flying from his hands in his last confrontation with a tree.  Shaking his head bitterly, he raised his fists instead.  The monster appeared to be resolving into one, and this spoke well for both Ryoga’s endurance and strength of will.

The beast rushed him boldly— a mistake, as far as Ryoga was concerned.  It received a punch to the nose for its trouble, and Ryoga danced away again, still keeping the tree to his back; no way to tell if these things hunted in packs, and he’d hate to have this opponent’s friends show. 

The monster was slow work to kill, but so was Ryoga.  A punch here—a successful eye jab—and the monster looked about ready to limp off after easier prey.  Then, in a sudden lunge it came for him, scoring his side with large, yellow teeth.

Ryoga held a hand over the blood rushing from his wound, gasping through pain and fighting for consciousness.  Everything was going dim—and he could not allow that—

The dog-beast moved for one, last, desperate attempt to overwhelm its enemy, loping to Ryoga with a wicked blood-filled grin.

Ryoga returned it, battle singing in his veins, chuckling as he felt his own blood run rapidly through his fingers.  A final gearing up, a final punch, a final launch into the air…

He gasped triumphantly, then blinked.  How had he ended up looking at the stars like this?  He didn’t remember lying down; that was funny.  No, but he needed to get up.  He had a good reason, too, if only he could remember what it was, or what he was doing on the cold ground.

There was somebody he was looking for—that was it.  Somebody who he needed to see.  That didn’t sound quite right, but it was close enough—more than enough to launch somebody as stubborn as Hibiki Ryoga onto his feet.  And if launch was too strong a word—if raise or stand or perhaps crawl was strictly more accurate—then this author is willing to overlook the matter.

But the time always comes when one cannot overlook such inconsequentials.  When one has to face death and note that it is coming.

Fast.

 

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

 

Ranma had dreams that night.  She was facing a dark, cold, lonely plain.  She could see one indistinct figure on the other side, but it was impossible to tell who it was from that distance.  Ranma looked down, surprised.  Other than the recurring nightmares she had about falling into the Nannichuan, this was the first time she’d ever dreamed herself as a girl.

Just as she looked down, she realized how silly she’d been to think she was in a field; she was sitting on top of the teacher’s desk, facing her students, one leg crossed demurely on top of the other.  “Now, minna-san,” she said in a calm, feminine voice.  “Can anybody tell me what we have here?” she inquired, gesturing to herself with a giggle.

Akane raised her hand.  “A person with two X chromosomes?” she inquired.

“Don’t be silly!  Next!” Ranma commanded, picking Hikaru out of the crowd.  He was the only one not raising his hand.  Honestly, if she didn’t pick on him, he’d never say a word.

“An incredibly hot girl I want to have lots of sex with,” he offered quietly.

“We’re getting warmer,” Ranma replied.  “Anybody else?  Kuno!”

Tatewaki bowed.  “My lady,” he answered confidently.

Ranma sighed.  “I’m afraid you’re quite far off the mark there, dear,” she replied with the air of someone having gone over the same lesson countless times.  She re-crossed her legs.  “Can’t anybody come to a conclusion here?” she demanded.  “Yes?  You, the bald man in the back!”

Genma stood and bowed.  “A martial artist and my son.”

The entire class laughed at that one, Ranma hardest of all.  “Hardly!” she giggled.  She cupped her breasts with her hands.  “Even Akane’s more right than you!”

Akane fumed.

Sayuri and Yuka spoke up together.  “A nice girl!” they exclaimed.

“What’s that?” Ranma inquired, a teacher asking for a definition.

The two girls fell silent and shrugged.  “Somebody who does what they’re told,” Akane answered, her voice stubborn and flat, “which makes you unqualified.”

Ranma smiled at her, knowing she was simply stinging from her incorrect answer, before.  “Why don’t you give it another try, Akane?” she inquired solicitously.

She was sitting next to Akane under a tree with spreading branches.  “Why don’t you give it another try?”  She realized she was offering Akane a bento.

The dark-haired girl blinked, seeming as surprised about the change of scene as Ranma herself.  “Where are we now?” she demanded.

“This is how it goes,” Ranma informed her, trying to forestall any outburst.  “Just try the lunch, okay?”

Akane opened the bento cautiously.  “Looks okay from the outside,” she offered, “but sometimes that’s the most deadly.”

“What do you think it is?” Ranma inquired, trying to keep her own temper from showing.

“What did you put in it?” Akane demanded.  “Poison?  I’m allergic to some stuff, you know.”

“I dunno.  My dad made it.”

“Your mom help?”

“Not really.  Not since I was five, anyway.”[2]

Akane wrinkled her nose.  “And you’re giving it to me?”

The redhead found herself very embarrassed for some reason.  “Try it, first.”

Akane took a small bite.  “Wow, Ranma—it’s is good.  Guess sometimes the ends justify the means, huh?”

A cat strode through the background for a moment, but when Ranma blinked, it was gone.

“Y-yeah,” Ranma replied, a little confused as to what that had to do with anything.  “Yeah, sometimes.”

“Mind if I finish it?” Akane inquired.  “It’s good, you know,” she assured the redhead, as though wondering whether Ranma had already forgotten.

“That’s fine,” she replied.  “Not very hungry anyways.”  She paused to look up at the branches of the trees.  Was something moving?  No—that was her imagination.

Akane’s eyes were suddenly bright and hard.  “Are you certain you don’t want any for yourself?  It is yours, you know.”

“Akane—are there any cats in the trees?”

“Of course not—then they can’t climb down.  There are cats everyplace else,” she finished calmly, swallowing the last bit of lunch.

Ranma gazed at Akane in horror, only now realizing exactly how hungry she really was.

“Come, now, Ranma,” Akane chided her.  “You did give it to me to keep, after all.”

“If there aren’t any cats in the tree, shouldn’t I be up there?” Ranma demanded, her voice beginning to show traces of panic.

“Gosh, Ranma, we’re all cats down here,” Akane replied conversationally.  “Didn’t you know that?”  She began to lick her hands clean methodically.  All around her the cats appeared, eyes glowing in sudden darkness.

Ranma backed away from Akane slowly and carefully, trying not to lose it entirely.  How could she have not noticed something that blindingly evident?!  Of course!  It seemed so clear now… they were everyplace, obviously, obviously…  As they closed in on her, Ranma felt her sanity begin to slip…

“Ranma?  Ranma?  Ranma!!”

Ranma sat up and screamed bloody murder, banging her head on Akane’s.  The dark-haired girl had been leaning over her, trying to shake her awake.

With every moment Ranma continued to scream, Akane felt herself become more panicked in response.  “S-stop!  Ranma!”

Ranma paused to gather a deep breath and began to scream again.

Tripping over Joi (again) Akane stumbled over to her doorway and flicked her lights on.  The redhead was just beginning to look around as though realizing that she was now awake.  Her eyes lit on Akane and she scrabbled away wildly, ending up in the corner but still seated on Akane’s bed.

The dark-haired girl paused, hurt in her eyes but willing to hold her ground until the wild look in Ranma’s eyes eased.

Nabiki and Kasumi spilled into the room.  “W-what?” Nabiki demanded incoherently.

Kasumi viewed the huddled form of Ranma and gasped.  “Oh dear!  Ranma-chan, are you alright?”

Ranma was holding her hands in front of her, blinking dazedly as though she didn’t recognize herself.  Then, very slowly, she raised her eyes to examine each of the Tendo girls in turn.  “Akane?”

Akane took a deep breath, filled with relief, before flinging herself onto the bed and drawing Ranma into her embrace.

In a moment, there were four girls sitting on the bed.  Nabiki, half-asleep but still needed, was propped up by Akane and Ranma’s bodies.  Kasumi was leaning in from the other side, her longer arms encircling all of the girls tightly.  Joi came close to the bed and sorrowfully rested his nose on Kasumi’s bare foot.

In this small cocoon, Ranma slowly came to herself, realized that she had been sobbing for quite awhile now, felt ashamed, wished she could stop, could not.  The dream kept twisting around in her brain, but the only thing she could place was something… something to do with cats…

Not being able to remember was the worst part.  The redhead felt a creeping, eerie fear enclose her heart and squeeze.  Slowly she came to a halt, from sobs to tears, from tears to sniffles, and from sniffles to hiccoughs.

“Water,” Nabiki mumbled, and shuffled off to the bathroom.

“I’m sorry,” Ranma said quickly.

“I’m sorry!” Kasumi returned.  “Are you alright, dear?  Are you hurt?”

Ranma shook her head, tears starting again, running down her cheeks.  She wiped them away, too raw and emotional to even know why Kasumi’s statement had started her off again.  She shook her head quietly, not trusting herself to speak in a clear voice—or, for that matter, make sense if she managed to hold her tone steady.  “Nightmare,” she finally whispered, and hiccoughed.

Nabiki reappeared, placing water in Ranma’s grasp.  She made sure both of Ranma’s shaking hands were on the cup before letting go.  The redhead swallowed several times past the large lump in her throat.

Soun Tendo poked his head inside the bedroom, the family shinai in his hands.

“It’s alright, father,” Kasumi said, her voice still in a whisper.  She still managed to sound as though she’d been awake for hours. 

He nodded, offered a sympathetic glance to Ranma and shut the door quietly behind him.

Ranma slowly drank her water, gradually becoming aware that Akane’s grip was making it hard for her to breathe, that Kasumi had a gentle hand on her upper leg and was stroking her calmly like a frightened, wild beast, that Nabiki was regarding her somberly, now more awake than perhaps Ranma had ever seen her before.

“Some nightmare,” the middle Tendo daughter commented, and for some reason, that prompted a harsh chuckle from the redhead.

“Yeah.”

“And Akane, honey, you’re strangling your fiancée.”

Akane let up slightly.  “Sorry, Ranma.” 

The ache of her arms eased, but the redhead almost wished she’d continued on.  Sure, she would have died of asphyxiation—but what a way to go.  Slowly, Ranma leaned back, letting Akane hold her more gently in her arms.

“Come on, Ranma-chan,” Kasumi advised gently, pulling Ranma to her feet.  “Why don’t I draw us all a hot bath.  I’m certain I couldn’t go back to sleep, now; Nabiki?”

Nabiki shook her head, and Ranma noticed with a small amount of distraction how Nabiki’s right hand kept making small movements, almost twitches.  Quite calmly, she wondered whether Nabiki was pondering helping her down the hallway with said appendage or was regretting the absence of her camera.

“A bath sounds like just the thing,” Akane replied, her voice full of relief for her older sister’s knack at making people feel comfortable.  “I’ll get that special bubble bath you gave me,” she offered.

Kasumi nodded.

“I have some liquor,” Nabiki added.

Both Ranma and Akane blinked in surprise, but Kasumi nodded gratefully.  “Just the thing.”

Ranma’s series of shocks were catching up with her.  Apparently Akane had managed to forget that Ranma was not a natural girl—hell, she herself had managed to forget that too, enough to think that a hot bath sounded like a fabulous idea.  Blinking, she came a bit more to herself, still mechanically drinking her water.

Kasumi went off to draw the bath while Nabiki went off in search of some seriously strong stuff; Akane searched for her bubble bath in her room, digging through her chest of drawers. 

Ranma’s mind raced, but it was still slow from terror.  A building nightmare began to play itself in Ranma’s mind again, this one all too real.  Nabiki and Kasumi throwing her out into the night in her male form, throwing things at her, calling her a pervert.  Akane standing at the back door, looking despondent but resigned.

And it seemed all the redhead could manage to do was sit wrapped in Akane’s blanket, wisps of hair coming undone from her braid, her bare feet sticking out, while this scenario ran in her mind over and over with interesting little variations.  In some, she died by seppuku or by the hands of one of the Tendo girls.  In some, Akane renounced her rather than live with her family’s recriminations.

Ranma blinked as Akane literally pulled her off of the bed and carried her, plopping the bath salts into Ranma’s lap as though she did this every day.  Joi yipped, startled by this new development.  “Don’t worry, Ranma, it’ll be okay,” Akane said, and she used that same impossible-not-to-trust voice she’d given the redhead that very first day, when she said she’d believed.

Ranma sighed, tension suddenly leaving her, her head relaxing almost bonelessly against Akane’s shoulder.  A tiny part of her managed to be surprised that she trusted the other girl this much when she was so scared out of her mind.

Akane set Ranma down inside the bathroom, handing Kasumi the bath salts that had gone rolling across the cold tiles.  Akane lit some small candles and began to disrobe.  “Oh… Kasumi?”

“Hm?”  Ranma noticed that Kasumi was keeping a close eye on her, despite the older girl’s apparent calm and apparent attention to Akane’s question.

“You know how Ranma was raised as a boy, don’t you?” she inquired softly.  When Kasumi nodded, she continued.  “She’s still very embarrassed about seeing other girls and about being seen by them… I think the light, and the hot water, and our company will relax her, but perhaps we should all close our eyes.”

Kasumi’s voice lowered even further, but Ranma wasn’t so out of it that she didn’t hear.  “Akane, that’s just what I was talking to you about earlier.  Ranma must get over these things if she ever wishes to be a normal young woman, like you.”

Akane snorted, then considered her response.  “Maybe,” she conceded.  “But tonight’s not the time to push.”

Kasumi stole a look at Ranma and nodded.  She closed her eyes, beginning to undress from feel.  Akane did the same, before winking at Ranma.

The redhead’s eyes flooded again, again for no seemingly discernible reason.

Nabiki entered and began watching her sisters disrobe while blind.  “A new game?” she inquired dryly.  Then her eyes narrowed shrewdly.  “Ranma was raised as a boy…”

Akane nodded, and Nabiki gamely closed her eyes.  The three of them stepped into the tub by feel and waited for Ranma.

Ranma didn’t close her eyes at first, merely turning her back, disrobing.  She kept her eyes at half-mast in order to see her feet, then stepped into the vacant space of water the girls had left for her.  She sighed deeply as she submerged herself, eyes closed, hoping vaguely that no one’s hands would wander by accident.

Each of the Tendos sighed, too, one after the other, none giving any indication that Ranma’s near fit had put them out.  Even Nabiki, whom Ranma had begun to perceive as somewhat selfish (pictures of her sister indeed!) didn’t say anything about being woken in the middle of the night to tend to her.

As each of the sisters seemed inclined to simply lie there without speaking, Ranma began to relax his muscles, began to lessen his fears.

“What was it about, Ranma?”

With his eyes closed, it was difficult to tell which Tendo sister had asked.  They usually had such different tones of voice… but tired sympathy emanated from each one.

Ranma opened his mouth to reply and realized they’d immediately recognize the change in the martial artist’s voice.

He cleared his throat…

“You don’t have to say if you don’t want to, Ranma.”

Why couldn’t he tell who was who?  He should at least be able to pick out Akane amongst the voices; or perhaps those two comments had been from the other girls. 

“Thanks,” he whispered.

He blinked, eyes open for a moment, before hastily closing them.  Husky, tear-masked whispers sounded just the same, to a certain point.  He continued.  “Is it okay if I tell you after I get out?”

“Hm,” somebody agreed, shifting.  Kasumi—that had been Kasumi for sure.  Ranma was almost sure, anyway.

Akane giggled.  “This is kind of neat.  Blind baths.”

A wide grin spread across Ranma’s face.  He did recognize her, after all.

“It is a novelty,” Nabiki said softly.  Ranma had the sudden impression her eyes were open, and squirmed.

“Would you three mind getting me some things from the market later?” And that had to be Kasumi.

“Nope,” Nabiki said.  “What do you need?”

“We’re all awake.  Why don’t we just go this morning?” Akane queried.  “These shops open early, don’t they, Kasumi?”

Kasumi considered, straightening in the bath a bit.  “Certainly—most of the shops I visit open sometime between five and six-thirty.  We could go to the open-air market.”

“What time is it?” Nabiki wondered lazily.  “It feels closer to three or four.”

“Eyes!” Akane warned, in case Nabiki was feeling like checking.

Ranma let their warm chatter wash over him, like the hot water in the bath.  Once again the oddness of the normalcy struck him: sisters, bathing together, talking about going into market.  As Kasumi chattered about what it was that could be obtained this early in the morning, as Nabiki finally began to stop listening for Ranma’s voice, as Akane eased herself into the conversation, Ranma sat back and let himself soak in their presence.  For some reason, it made his chest hurt for a moment, with a sharp, brief little pain.

Slowly, the water cooled, and the sisters helped one another out of the bath, giggling, eyes still pressed shut.  After he was certain all three sisters were out of his way and in no danger of accidentally ‘discovering’ him, Ranma followed them, his own eyes closed.  Suddenly he felt the shock of cool water falling over his head—Akane, he deduced, saving him again.

A towel was thrust into Ranma’s hands.  The redhead moved to wrap it around her waist before shaking her head and raising its level a bit.  She needed to start thinking a little more like a girl, provided she wanted to survive.

“I’m decent,” Nabiki announced. 

“Are not,” Kasumi chided, playfulness in her voice.

“Nabiki never was,” Akane giggled.  “It’s okay, Ranma, you can open your eyes.”

Ranma’s blue eyes flickered open to view three girls, each with a towel tied just above her breasts.  Akane and Kasumi had pinned their hair up against the water, and misty ringlets were forming around Akane’s face; she tried not to stare.

“Let’s get some clothing and meet downstairs,” Kasumi suggested, creaking the bath door open slowly so as not to wake her father or Saotome-san.  Each of the girls crept to her respective room.

Ranma and Akane dressed silently, but Ranma could feel the other girl’s eyes on her, making certain she was alright.  She did feel better now, but she didn’t relish telling her story to the three sisters.  Something in her shied away from that idea.

Downstairs, Kasumi was pouring herbal tea into four cups.  Nabiki was poring over the stock report, yawning widely.

“It’s later than I thought,” she announced as the pair descended, flicking her newspaper.  “Nearly five; it’s already been delivered.”

Akane nudged Ranma and the pair sat down at the table.

As Ranma began speaking, drinking her tea (carefully), she kept her eyes focused on the same watermark on the tabletop.  It made speaking easier, she found, if she couldn’t see the reactions of the Tendo sisters.  She spoke in a quiet, even voice, describing the Catfist training in detail, trying not to sound too horrified.

And then she began to talk in an even smaller voice, a whisper really, telling them what she had never even told her father.

The nightmares after the training had been quite understandable, even from Genma’s considerably distorted point of view.  The problem was, they had not stopped nor had their intensity faded.  Each one tended to be at least as terrible as the one before it, if not somehow worse; she maintained that they’d been getting better lately, because of her father’s insistence that the recurring dreams were womanly.  Announcing a womanly thing to girls who thought her a woman already wasn’t half as bad as she thought it’d be.

When she finished her tale, she looked up.  Kasumi’s face was white and gaunt, and some of the cheery innocence in her eyes was broken.  Akane had a look of murderous rage on her face; after a moment, she excused herself.

Sounds of destruction and mayhem sounded from the dojo.

Nabiki scooted next to Ranma and wrapped an arm around her waist.  “So you have these dreams, right?” she inquired.  “And if you spend too much time around a cat, you lose it?”

Ranma nodded, looking into Nabiki’s brown eyes.

“Honey—you’re lucky you’re not completely insane,” Nabiki announced bluntly.  “I’m proud of you for managing to survive all of that intact in the noggin.”

Kasumi nodded, looking a bit more like her old self.  “That’s right, Ranma,” she finished softly, but Ranma could tell she was struggling with herself in some way or another, though not with what emotion.  “You’re very lucky you turned out as well as you did.  Very lucky,” she repeated.

A particularly murderous scream rent the air, followed by a large smashing noise.

“Akane thinks so too,” she added, smiling gently.  “I know she likes you very much.  It speaks incredibly well for you that you’re… well… not a savage, or something,” the eldest Tendo daughter finished inelegantly. 

“Or permanently insane.  Nobody’s saying you should be happy you’ve got these terrible nightmares, but think of being stuck in one for the rest of your life.”  Nabiki looked at her seriously.

“Thanks, Nabiki,” Ranma said dryly, not sure whether she meant it.  But, well, it sure did put things into perspective.

“Come on, Ranma,” Nabiki ordered, pulling the redhead to her feet.  “We’re going shopping.”

“Hn?”

“I’ll get Akane,” Kasumi announced, slipping out the back door.

The redhead blinked, surprised.  Somehow she’d expected all three girls to be in tears or turn her away—not this.  Ranma sighed, thinking she’d probably never get girls, period.

Soon the four were ready, Akane wiping her eyes; Ranma pretended not to notice that, or Akane’s hand particularly tight inside her own.  Kasumi clutched her shopping bag to her chest, still obviously disturbed.

Outside, the sun was about to rise.  Mist crept along the street in front of the girls like some kind of lazy animal stretching, parting easily in front of them.  The sidewalks were mostly deserted, and Ranma began to get the strange feeling that there were only four people who truly existed in the world.  The water hanging in the air hushed their footfalls.

Maybe water was sentient.  At least, it had sure seemed that way on her trip from China.  She’d never lasted more than a day or so as a boy before some kind of natural accident drenched her in cold water.

“I love this time of morning,” Kasumi whispered, her voice in a childlike hush.  “Everything’s so fairy tale.”

Ranma smiled at her as they walked along.  Kasumi only saw the happy things.  She bit her lip, briefly regretting telling the eldest Tendo girl anything about her own childhood. 

Suddenly, as though it was born of the air around them, an open-air market became distinguishable.  Formless shapes became geometric stalls; shapeless heaps morphed into apples and nuts, piled carelessly atop one another.  Wraithlike figures resolved into farmers, butchers and bakers laying out trays of their wares, early shoppers, and a pair of children chasing one another around and screeching gleefully.

“Kasumi-san!” a voice exclaimed cheerfully.

Kasumi grinned, delighted, to introduce Ranma to a pair of young farmers running a cabbage stall.  “This is Hiako Nobaya and her husband, Umio Nobaya, Ranma.  Minna-san, this is Ranma, the girl I mentioned the other day.”

The pair bowed.  “Nice to see a young girl taking an interest in selecting her own ingredients—you don’t see that all the time, do you Hiako?” Umio inquired solicitously.

Ranma reddened, but she managed to laugh like she agreed all the same.

“We always buy our cabbage from the Nobayas,” Kasumi explained.

“Kasumi-san!”  Another voice came floating out of the mist.

“Excuse me,” Kasumi said, bowing to the group.  “Nabiki, will you pay?”

Nabiki blinked at the cabbages in front of her warily, as though she suspected one might bite.  “Akane?”

Akane moved to peer at the vegetables herself, shrugging.  “Aren’t all of them good?” she whispered.

Ranma bowed to the couple.  “Excuse me, we’re a bunch of modern city girls.  Which ones are best?”  She smiled winningly.

Hiako smiled at her.  “Kasumi usually buys three.”  After a brief examination, the young shopkeeper handed Ranma three cabbages—lovely specimens of the breed—and charged Nabiki 152 yen.  “Kini, don’t you dare!” she cried to one of the little children running wild.  “Excuse me,” she pleaded to the girls, palms together.  “Kini, we do not pull our brother by the hair!”

As they strode after Kasumi, Nabiki whispered behind her hand.  “Geez, Ranma, you really know how to turn on the feminine charm.”

“I’ve never seen you do that before,” Akane added, looping her arm into the redhead’s again.

Ranma chuckled embarrassedly.  “Well…”

“Over here!”  Kasumi waved her hand in the air, beckoning the other girls.

The redhead was introduced to a seemingly endless number of shopkeepers, all of whom proclaimed her a sweet and lovely young lady. 

“What a nice girl,” one old bread-seller lady had proclaimed, but something in Ranma bristled.  She still managed a polite but strained smile, however.

Kasumi’s woven bag was filling, and Ranma couldn’t help but think of the food the eldest girl was about to cook with the greatest anticipation.  Fresh fishes of several different sorts lined the bottom; heavy vegetables like green tomato and onion were next, followed by apples and several kinds of nuts.  At the very top were the three cabbages and some grapes, for snacking.  Each looked and smelled as fresh as Ranma had ever seen any of their ilk, and some were glistening with morning dew.  It was all the redhead could do not to just grab the grapes for herself.

In fact, she was beginning to feel kind of hungry, and was looking forward to breakfast.  Nabiki purloined the grapes out of Kasumi’s bag herself, snapping off bits for the other girls to eat, so Ranma’s curiosity as to their flavor was satisfied.

The mist lifted now, leaving morning dew on the grass[3] and lifting the sense of the otherworldly away.  People were beginning to wake now—businessmen leaving for work in Tokyo proper joined the very old and the very young on the streets.  They slipped outside carrying briefcases, wearing dark suits and beleaguered expressions, walking with the gait of the half-asleep.  Some women appeared, too, wearing business dresses, some carrying briefcases of their own: businessladies and OL’s.[4]  But Ranma noticed that they were few and far between.

The park was utterly deserted, Ranma noted, except for one young mother who was half-asleep herself, sitting on a park bench with one foot resting on the wheel of her baby’s carriage; she rocked her heel, moving the carriage back and forth gently.  She looked exhausted, and Ranma wondered briefly how long she’d been there.[5]  The redhead also found herself wondering why so many girls wanted lots of babies, since it was obviously so hard to take care of them.  Maybe it was all hype, she decided, and they never really knew how difficult it was until they tried.

Even now, she heard Kasumi and Akane sigh almost simultaneously, a sound of someday.

As she was looking at the pair with a puzzled expression on her face, Akane made a soft exclamation.  “Do you see that?”

Ranma followed the path of the girl’s pointing finger and noticed that there was some kind of coat half-hidden under some bushes near the outskirts of the park.  Privately she applauded Akane’s observational skills; it was yellow and dark green, and blended nicely.  Still, she wondered why Akane had called their attention to it.

Until it moved.