Tendo-Saotome Anything Goes

“Akane, don’t,” Nabiki cautioned as her younger sister broke out into a jog.  “It’s probably just some drunk sleeping it off—”

It was not.  Lying half underneath a bush in the park was a young man, not any older than Akane herself.  Half his shirt was gone, and his right side was scored with large wounds running from his heart to his stomach, yellow and throbbing with infection.

“Kami-sama,” Kasumi breathed in a whoosh of released air.

Nabiki was turning a bit pale.  “D-doctor,” she murmured.

“Mgggg,” replied the young man.

Ranma started.  She didn’t think anyone in this kind of condition should be alive, much less able to murmur.  She was about to ask him not to speak—her eyes had flown to his face—

“I know him,” she announced suddenly.

“D-doctor!” Nabiki re-asserted.

“Nabiki, please fetch Tofu-sensei,” Kasumi ordered.  Released, the middle Tendo girl tore off down the road at a breakneck pace.

“You know him?” Akane demanded. 

“Don’t you think nine-one-one would be a better idea?” Ranma countered.

Kasumi shook her head.  “That isn’t an ordinary wound,” she replied softly, dropping to her knees by the injured boy.  Her hands hovered briefly over the scored area.  “These are claw marks.  From poisoned claws.”  She pointed out a small black color spiderwebbing from the wound.  “This would be the poison itself,” she added grimly.  “No doctor who isn’t versed in the magic arts as well as the healing arts would be able to handle such a thing.  Besides—his breathing is steady.  Look.”

“You know this boy,” Akane repeated.

“At least, I think so,” Ranma finally answered, her expression puzzled.  Somehow she felt she was used to seeing him with an expression on his face that did not mirror the still, comatose one she saw before her.  Briefly, the boy stirred again, his face moving into a rictus of pain.  “That’s it!” she suddenly exclaimed.  “He was at my junior high…  Nice kid, I liked him,” she added in a friendly manner.

Kasumi blinked at her, her eyes sliding from the sick boy to Ranma.  “You did?”

“Sure,” the redhead replied.  “Yeah, he’s lost some weight and I’ll be damned if he doesn’t look, well, worse off in other ways.”  Her eyes traveled to the young man’s infected wounds.  “But it’s Ryoga Hibiki for sure.”

Kasumi nodded.  “It’s sheer luck we found him, then,” she replied.  “Akane, please check your purse to see if you’ve got a scissor or a knife.  I’m going to go ask the Nobayas for some antiseptic and some clean cloth; there’s no reason to watch this boy suffer while we wait for Doctor Tofu.”

Akane nodded, already digging, and Kasumi took off at a run, disappearing around the corner.

Ranma blinked, trying to think of something she could possibly do.  As Akane searched her pocketbook, retrieving her sewing kit, Ranma did what she always did whenever she found herself in a situation she knew nothing about: she examined what was before her.

She’d been right in saying the kid had lost weight; not only did his current bulk not fit her memories of him, but his shirt and pants were noticeably baggy.  His skin was ashen pale and sweaty, and small strands of black hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.  Heavy dark circles rested under his eyes, and he was altogether too still, even for a sleeping person.  Ranma considered calling nine-one-one despite Kasumi’s insistence that conventional doctors could not help.

Her eyes shied away from it, but Ranma forced herself to consider the wound.  It was indeed poisoned—a snake had bitten Ranma, once—and the poison had apparently had a great deal of time to work.  The black spiderwebs of deadly stuff branched outwards almost two inches away from any part of the wound.  Beyond that it was yellow, then puffy and red. 

He’d probably stumbled across something in the wilds that was bigger and meaner than he was, Ranma decided, suddenly remembering Ryoga’s problem with finding his way.

As if thinking Ryoga’s name had called him awake, the boy’s eyes fluttered halfway open.  He murmured something that sounded like a question.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Akane said, picking up his hand and holding it in her own.  “We called a doctor.  You’re going to be fine!”

Ranma nodded, and Ryoga’s eyes traveled to her, drawn by the motion of her bobbing head.  She felt the need to say something too, so she added, “Don’t worry, Ryoga, okay?”

For a moment it looked like he was trying to smile reassuringly.  Then his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

“Oh dear,” Akane exclaimed, her lips compressing with worry.

Kasumi jogged around the corner.  “I got some rubbing alcohol,” she said, sighing.  “It should hurt a great deal, but it was the best I could do for antiseptic.  Clean cloth—someone was selling it.”

Akane handed Kasumi a small pair of scissors from her pocketbook sewing kit and the oldest Tendo girl began cutting Ryoga’s shirt away from the wound.  Luckily, most of the shirt had been ripped away from the clawmarks long ago, and this took mere seconds.

Kasumi peered doubtfully at the alcohol before pouring some onto a thin, white cloth in her hands.  “Hold him down, please,” Kasumi ordered.

Akane gulped, pinning Ryoga’s left arm to his side at the shoulder.  Ranma copied her at Ryoga’s left.

Wincing in anticipation, Kasumi began to lower her hand to the wound.

“Oneechan!”

Kasumi sighed in relief as Tofu-sensei and Nabiki came running down the mostly deserted street.  “Over here!” she exclaimed, waving one arm in the air.

“Keep in that position, girls,” Tofu warned as Akane began to scoot back.  As his patient came into view, Tofu nearly stumbled, mumbling a series of curses that appeared to span several languages.  “It’s poison all right,” he said quietly.  “Nabiki, please quickly hand me my flashlight.”

Ranma now saw that Nabiki had been carrying the doctor’s first aid kit in one hand.

Tofu-sensei examined Ryoga’s eyes, pulling the lids up.  “Wow.”  His face suddenly looked a great deal more relaxed.  “Strong kid.  I think he’s going to be okay.”  He claimed his case from Nabiki and began to clean the wound very gently with warm water, then with antiseptic.  “I think we’re going to have to open the wound, as well,” he said regretfully, “give that boy a generalized antidote, and a tonic to help him on his way.  But we should wait until we get to the clinic for all of that.  He’s got the time; he’s mostly passed out from sheer exhaustion.”

All of the girls breathed a sigh of relief, Ranma included.  “He’s going to be okay, then?” she inquired.

Tofu-sensei nodded.  “Unless things change drastically—yes,” he replied.  Suddenly, he turned to face the eldest Tendo daughter and blinked, as though suddenly realizing she was there.  “W-why, Kasumi!  What a surprise to see you here!”

Nabiki and Akane blinked in concert.  “Oh, no,” they declared.

Kasumi giggled.  “Well, doctor—I was coming back from shopping, you see?”  She picked up her bag of groceries and lifted it slightly for analysis.

Nabiki was slowly backing away from Tofu-sensei.

“What’s going on?” Ranma whispered to Akane.

Akane sighed heavily.

Meanwhile, Tofu-sensei had accepted Kasumi’s groceries as a gift.  “Mmm, meat!  Betty-chan will like this!”

“That’s a bit macabre, isn’t it, doctor?” Kasumi suggested tartly.  “Besides, I need to use those things to cook dinner.”

The doctor began laughing near-hysterically.  “Of course!”

“Oh, doctor,” Akane chided under her breath disappointedly, as though this happened quite frequently and she was resigned to its consistant occurrence.

“Doctor Tofu!” Ranma demanded, taken aback by how the normally calm man was behaving.  “You’ve got a patient, you know!”

“Really, Ranma?” he queried.  “Have you injured yourself?  Let me see.”

“Not me!” Ranma exclaimed, but it was too late.  Suddenly, her neck was bent at a very strange angle.  “Your patient, your patient!”

“Ah.  Yes.  That’s as may be,” Doctor Tofu continued in a slightly chiding tone of voice.  “But you really shouldn’t get into these accidents in the first place—” and he bent Ranma’s neck one-hundred and eighty degrees in the opposite direction.

“Doc-tor…” Ranma growled.  “There’s a kid on the ground.  Under the bush.  Your patient.”

“Hm,” Kasumi said, as though something had been suddenly brought to her attention.  “I’ll… get these groceries home, shall I?”

Nabiki and Akane nodded profusely and in unison.  Ranma could not nod, since her head was still bent ninety-degrees out of place. 

As she turned and moved down the street, Tofu-sensei blinked again.  “Why, Ranma!  What happened to you?”


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

Once Ryoga had been safely settled into Tofu’s clinic, Ranma and Akane headed off for school; Nabiki had already jogged off ages ago.  Luckily, it was still relatively early, and they didn’t believe they’d be late.

“Talk about eventful!” Akane yawned.  “You don’t seem ruffled; is your life always like this?”

Ranma shook her head with a grin.  “No—don’t be silly.  It’s usually much worse.”

Akane returned her smile warmly.  “Yeah; mine, too.  Though I must say, my old school friends don’t usually pop up half-dead,” she teased.  “That’s a new one.”

“Old... school...” Ranma said to herself.  “Great.  I’ve done it again.”

The other girl looked at the redhead curiously as she began to beat her forehead with the flat of her hand.  “What?!”

“Dummy!”

“Hey!”

“Me, not you.  I just told Kasumi and Nabiki that he was from my old junior high.  I went to an all boys’ school back then!  If they pass that on to Ryoga...”

Akane blinked at her.  “An all-boys’...”

“What?”  Ranma harrumphed under her breath.  “Back then I was a boy, you know!  Three-hundred and sixty-five days a year!”

“I know, I know,” Akane mumbled.  “It’s just hard for me to remember that, sometimes.”

“Hmph.”  Ranma raised one eyebrow.  “Maybe I should spend tomorrow as a boy, just to remind you.”

“Don’t be silly!” Akane urged airily.  “You’d miss school!”  Waiting for Ranma’s reaction, she missed what was in front of the pair and only caught the faintly shocked expression on Ranma’s face.  “What?!”

The redhead blinked, then blinked again.  She’d heard about Akane’s... suitors... but this was utterly ridiculous!

Over thirty young men garbed in various sporting equipment were charging across the courtyard, screaming out their love.  Akane gulped, looking doubtful, and suddenly Ranma realized that this had to be the first time she’d faced them since she had broken Kuno like a matchstick.  Obviously she was wondering how her new peaceful attitude would stand up to thirty large boys plus weaponry.

Ranma, for her part, found herself staring at the girl beside her.  She had fought these guys every day, ever since she was a freshman?!  No way.  No girl was that good.  Why, Akane had to be as strong as a gorilla!

“Don’t Akane!” one of the boy’s screams rose above the crowd.  “They want to beat you!  But I have to be the one!”

“Akane!  Leap into my arms!”

Akane blanched, taking a step back.  Ranma moved in front of her almost instinctively.  “Don’t worry, Akane!” she exclaimed.  “I’ll protect you!”

“MAKE WAY!”

Ranma and Akane blinked simultaneously in surprise as another figure began to cut through the fighters from behind. 

“Who the hell is that?” Akane demanded, trying to peer through the still-approaching fighters. 

“Can’t tell,” Ranma replied.  “Guess I’d better help.”  Shrugging, she leapt into the fray, punching left and right.

It was a fabulous challenge, Ranma soon realized.  She was good, of course, better than good—one of the best, in fact.  Yet she’d still never faced this many opponents at once.  Even an inexperienced warrior could manage to strike her in this situation out of something like sheer chance, and Ranma found herself spinning like a top trying to keep track of everyone who was attempting to get beneath her guard.  However, she was the great Saotome Ranma, and soon she faced only one opponent.  When she moved to strike, the man dropped to his knees.

“Kuno!”

She hadn’t recognized him at first.  He was wearing a dark blue shirt made of some fine material, and dark grey dress pants.  “You look almost normal,” she observed.

“Thou wouldst not strike your retainer, madam, who only sought to aid you in your struggle?” he queried doubtfully.

“And then you open your mouth,” Ranma tacked on under her breath.  “Of course not, Sir Kuno,” she replied loudly, with utmost gravity.  “Rise.”

He did, with a blush.  He bowed silently to Akane, who was gaping in a most unbecoming fashion.

“Meh?” the dark-haired girl managed.  She quickly pulled herself together, though, her brows furrowing in anger.  “Kuno, what the hell is going on?”

Kuno blinked at her mildly, but did not reply.

“Huh?” Ranma inquired.  “Oh... I didn’t tell you about this, Akane?  That’s funny, I thought I did...” she scratched the back of her neck in mild embarrassment.

“A... a little detail that you... forgot to mention?”

Ranma could not tell whether Akane was about to burst into hysterical laughter or begin screaming at the top of her lungs.  Perhaps the girl’s emotions rested someplace between those two extremes.  “Yeah, see, Kuno kinda pledged his life to me.  I figured, you know, the more allies and friends I have, the better.”  She leaned in to whisper into Akane’s ear.  “Even if those allies are, you know, a little nutzoid.”

Kuno, meanwhile, had practically gone into paroxysms of sheer joy.  “Friend?  Nay, I do not aspire to that worthy title—you are my Lady, Ranma.”

Ranma winked at Akane.  “See?” she whispered.  “Nuts.  But a Don Quixote kind of nuts, which is sort of sweet if you think about it.”

“Sweet?!”  Akane’s voice sounded a bit strangled.

Ranma reconsidered the word.  “Well... not... like that, or anything...”

“SWEET?”

The redhead blinked and took a step back.  That was obviously not the reason Akane had taken offense, so she tried again.  “Kind of deranged?” she offered.

“IT’S NOT SWEET!” Akane screamed at the top of her lungs.

At least, Ranma hoped that was the top of Akane’s lungs.  If Akane’s lungs were going to go any higher, they would get a nosebleed.

“KUNO IS NOT SWEET!  KUNO IS THE GUY THAT MADE MY LIFE A LIVING HELL EVERY MORNING FOR OVER TWO YEARS!”

It was the first time Ranma had ever seen a full-blown Akane Rage.  Her entire face changed when she did that, Ranma noticed, so that it was barely recognizable.  The girl’s body shook with repressed fury.

Just as suddenly, the storm was over.  Akane’s expression suddenly saddened, as if she’d thought of something that disturbed her; then she turned on her heel.

“Fine!  Walk the rest of the way with him, for all I care!”

And she stomped inside.

“Did you see that?!” Ranma breathed, when hurricane Akane had passed out of sight and hearing.

“Did my Lady really say I was sweet?” Kuno inquired.

Ranma let her head rest in a weary hand.  “Listen, Kuno.  You said you’d always thought you were better than Akane, but you were wrong.  Is that right?”

Kuno nodded.  “As it turned out, her skill greatly exceeded my own.”

“Is that why you like her?”

“Partially for her strength, yes.  She is a fierce and beautiful tigress, and I long for her greatly.”

“Riiight,” Ranma drawled.  “And you’ve known her for awhile, right?”

“It seems I have known the great and lovely Tendo Akane since the first spark of life was breathed into the—”

Ranma cleared her throat meaningfully, in a way she’d once seen a woman do to get her husband’s attention.  Surprisingly enough, it worked, cutting Kuno’s tangent off before it had a chance to begin.

“Indeed, I have known her for quite some time.”

“Do you know why she was angry?”

Kuno shook his head.  “I am afraid... I...”

Ranma blinked.  She couldn’t claim to know the guy very well, but it was the first time she’d ever seen him at a loss for words.  “Go on,” she suggested gently.

“I...”  He paused again, then spoke rapidly, as though wishing to get the words off his chest for quite some time.  “I am afraid I have never been able to understand her.”

Ranma half-smirked.  “Thank you for your candor, Sir Kuno.  That must have hurt.”

“ ‘She has reasons defying reason, but oh, delighting me’,”[1] he quoted wryly.  “Part of the allure of Tendo Akane is in the constantly thwarted attempts at comprehending her fiery soul.  May I walk you to class?”

“Hn,” Ranma agreed, still needing more.  “So that’s why you like Akane?  You want to understand her soul?”

Kuno laughed, sounding surprised.  “Lady Ranma!  A woman is not meant to be understood.  A woman should confuse and dazzle a man so—until he scarce trusts his senses.  Women are not for figuring out—they are for puzzling over, for wond’ring why they do what they do.  It has always been, and it shall be forever thus.  Though I must say, your kind seem to have less trouble deciphering ours...”

“Well, I can’t figure you, if it’s any consolation,” Ranma murmured, shaking her head.  The picture Kuno had painted of her best friend was an airy one, showing parts of the whole picture and lacking the essential detail, like a Monet.  And like a Monet, Kuno’s vision was all the more beautiful for the lack.

All through class, Akane studiously ignored Ranma.  Ranma was still trying to figure out why she was so angry—busy enough so that she scarcely paid attention all throughout class.  And when she thought that she’d have to ask Akane for the homework, she suddenly remembered the other girl was angry with her all over again, and fought a sad pang.

Yuka and Sayuri didn’t say a word, but Ranma could tell that they somehow knew something was up.  Briefly she thought of her hive mind theory again, but she no longer found it even vaguely amusing.  How could Kuno think that trying to figure a girl out was pleasurable?!  She was ready to kill herself by lunch.

Luckily, Nabiki came to her aid.  As Ranma sat under a tree outside (the very tree from her dream, the one near the baseball field) the middle Tendo girl approached her.  “Hey, honey.  How’s the world?” she inquired.

Ranma offered her a brave smile.  “The world’s as usual: against me.  How are you?”

Nabiki dropped next to her.  “I’ll give you some advice for free,” she said.

“Do you usually charge?”  The redhead was surprised.

Nabiki’s smile flickered, then returned.  “This goes hand-in-hand with my little photography hobby,” she informed Ranma.

The other girl blinked.  “Oh.”

“You’ve managed to make Akane very upset,” Nabiki observed, “and you won’t get far in this school without her help.  Talking to me will make you as liked and appreciated as the Black Plague,” she added, “in case you’re wondering.  Especially because I’m still smiling at you.”

“You have that much of a reputation?”

“And all of it’s deserved,” the middle Tendo daughter added coolly.  “The only reason you haven’t already been deported back to China is because my little sister likes you.”  She winked.  “And because, so do I.”

Ranma frowned.  She didn’t appreciate idle threats, but she actually trusted and liked Nabiki already, so she had no real problem with the girl flexing her power muscles.  But Nabiki had a very bad measure of her if she thought Ranma was interested in ‘making it’ at Furinkan.  She only wanted Akane’s friendship back; she didn’t care about popularity or power, or at least not in the way Nabiki was intimating. 

“What’s the advice, then?  Or can I ask for my own?”

“Sometimes people tend to ask the wrong questions, but go ahead.”

“Why’s Akane angry with me?” Ranma wanted to know.

“Well... I heard what went on down there, so I can probably tell you—not that it’ll do you any good, kiddo.  You just insulted Akane in a bunch of ways.”

“Insulted her?”  Ranma blinked in surprise, feeling her frustrations doubled suddenly from false accusation.  “Nabiki, you’ve got to believe me, I never called Akane any names...!”

Nabiki shook her head, frowning.  “No, no, insulted her.  You can insult someone plenty of ways.  First of all, you and Kuno finished her battle for her.”

“But—she said she didn’t want to fight anymore!”

“Sure.  But you didn’t let her resolve it herself.  Who knows what might have happened if neither of you guys stepped in?  Akane might have learned another way of solving her problems other than with her fists.  Don’t give me that look,” she ordered as Ranma scowled at her.  “She’s my sister, and I know her.  Don’t you think I could have stopped the fights far before now?  Akane had gotten used to having her skill in martial arts do all the talking for her.

“It’s lucky,” Nabiki continued, “that you aren’t a boy, or things might have been even worse.  After all this fighting every day, it’s not a wonder that Akane experiences disgust at the mere thought of a boy trying to be with her, and two guys thinking they were defending her honor or something... that really would have been the end.”

The redhead squirmed, looking pained.  Nabiki knew she had hit a nerve, but had no way of telling which one.  After casting an odd look at the redhead, she shrugged.  “Well, it’s obvious she dealt pretty well with that one.  Girl or no, I was surprised she kept her temper.  But then—what on earth possessed you to make friends with Kuno?”

Ranma shook her head.  “He kind of adopted me.  I figured I’d better just accept his need to latch on to some girl.  If I didn’t do it, he’d be following me around like Joi does when he wants food.”

“Well, you’ve got the measure of Kuno,” Nabiki admitted, “but not of my little sister.  Don’t you know how that looks?  I know you’ve been raised as a boy, so I’ll spell it out for you.  Girls aren’t usually so buddy-buddy with their best friend’s worst enemy, especially if their worst enemy happens to be a guy who likes them.  It’s one of those unspoken rules.”

When Ranma puzzled that out, she frowned.  “I didn’t think of it that way.”

“Obviously you didn’t think, period,” Nabiki cut in.  “And I’m not done.”

“You mean there’s more than that?!”

Nabiki merely raised an eyebrow and paused significantly before continuing.  “You neutralized Kuno.  Kuno’s superiority complex is his cornerstone, and by removing it you placed him under your control.  Akane’s been trying to find a way of stopping him, any way of stopping him, for over two years.  You heard her.  And you managed to do it in a handful of days.”

“But isn’t it good that I—”

“Shush and learn.  Akane’s already jealous of you.  Now you had to go and compound it!”

“Jealous—of me?”

Nabiki nodded wisely.  “Moreover, Akane has worked very hard to become your friend, because she respects and likes you so much, Ranma.  Only somebody who knows her as I do would realize how often she’s held in her legendary temper just so you’d call her your friend.  Then someone who goes in attacking you and spouting gibberish earns the same title?  It’s understandable that this added to her frustration.”

Ranma nodded to herself.  “Yes... but...”

“I’m not through.”

Ranma put her head in her hands.

“Finally there was the added dimension of jealousy.  You called him sweet—something you’ve never done for her.  I think she felt herself quite replaced.”

“Akane—  replaced?!!”

“Yes, well... my little sister is very insecure,” Nabiki confided.  “She’s had trouble keeping friends ever since this caveman drag-her-by-the-hair business began.  The less far-sighted of the girls have always blamed Akane herself for these little attacks, saying she thrived on the attention and the like, when anybody can see it makes her miserable.  For much of the others, little resentments have piled up until most of the student population steers clear of her.  The only two who still talk to her with any frequency are Yuka and Sayuri, though Akane’s nice enough to get anyone to chat with her for a brief period of time.  Those are the only friends she’s kept, even though she was the most popular girl in school when this whole business began.  That was why this whole business began.”

Ranma shook her head.  “Damn it.  What do I do?”

“That’s the question you should have asked.  Five hundred yen, please.”[2]

Ranma stared at Nabiki’s open palm.  “Hey!”

“Well?”

But the redhead already had the measure of Nabiki, if not of Akane.  “Hmph,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest haughtily.  “I would have thought the happiness of your family was more important to you than a measly five-hundred, Nabiki.”

For a moment, Nabiki looked guilty, but that expression was quickly wiped clean, replaced by a crafty gleam.  “Are you some kind of savant, Ranma?  I have to know.  First you manage Kuno like a pro, and then you manage to strike directly at me.  No one’s managed to do that in a long time, except Kasumi who somehow manages it regularly.”  She drew in a deep breath, then continued, as though she’d suddenly decided to include something.  “Moreover, you’ve got a big secret...”

Ranma paled.  “How did you know about that?!”

“I didn’t.”  Nabiki smirked.  “You just told me.”

The redhead’s jaw dropped.  “Nabiki Tendo, I’m not sure I like you this way,” she announced gruffly, arms crossing over her chest again.  “Last night you stayed with me until I was okay, and you closed your eyes so that I could bathe with you, and you looked so scared for Ryoga that I thought you were going to faint.”  She sighed.  “And when I told you about the Catfist, you said I was strong.  This reaction was kind of more what I was expecting last night when you learned about that.  Has it just sunk in now?”

At the mention of the Catfist, Nabiki went white.  She sat through the rest of Ranma’s recital with a pained, pale, sober expression. “Come here.”

Cautiously Ranma scooted a bit closer to the other girl.

Nabiki slipped an arm around Ranma’s waist and leaned on her shoulder.  “I’m sorry, Ranma,” she said in a small voice.  “You heard me, what I said—what people think of me here.”

Suddenly Ranma saw Nabiki’s features calm and smooth as they had been when their conversation first began, heard Nabiki say: “Talking to me will make you as liked and appreciated as the Black Plague in case you’re wondering... and all of it’s deserved...” 

“Too many shocks at once, and I guess I retreat a bit further into that image,” the girl informed him sadly.  “Forgive me?”

This was the Nabiki Ranma knew, and could handle.  “No big deal, right?  I’ve been a jerk more times than I can count—at least you know the reason.  And at least you know when you’re doing it!  I’m just clueless.”  She squeezed Nabiki’s shoulder.

The other girl sighed.  “You should apologize to Akane.  Just go up to her, don’t give her the chance to say a word.  Say you’re sorry, but you really want to go back to being friends.  Don’t give excuses—excuses just remind people why they’re angry.  Okay?”

“Thanks, Nabiki.”

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo,” she replied, disengaging from their half-hug and dusting off her school uniform.  “You know... I noticed something when I put my arm around you...”

Ranma was treated to the rare image of a Nabiki blushing and embarrassed.

“See, I know you were raised as a boy, but...”

“Hm?”

“Well, it’s just... do you usually not wear a bra?”

Ranma blinked.  Her?  Wear a bra?  It was utterly laughable!

“They, er...”  Nabiki shook her head, regaining some of her laconic self.  “The boys are starting to talk.  You’ll really need one today, too, since you and Akane have gym after lunch.  I’ve got gym tomorrow, so you can borrow one of mine, okay?  It’s in my locker, number seventeen, and I’ll write the combination for you.”

“You... do you really think I should?”  Ranma was already running through a half-dozen ways she could worm out of this one.

“Yeah, sure.  The gym uniforms are little bits of nothing, Ranma.  Practically the only thing a girl has is her bra and underpants, honestly!”  Nabiki looked slightly disgusted.  “They really need to update those things, they look like they were invented from some pedophile’s sick twisted fantasies...”

Ranma blanched.  Maybe a bra made sense after all.

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

Gym was directly after lunch, so Nabiki deposited her at the gym door before waving goodbye.  “Remember, don’t even mention why you’re sorry!  Just say you are,” she suggested, offering the redhead one last bit of advice.

“Don’t say why, right,” Ranma replied, as though she were some kind of soldier receiving orders for her next battle.

“You really are worried about this, aren’t you?” the other girl suddenly inquired, her voice soft and confused.  “Don’t worry—okay?  Akane’s quick to anger but even quicker to forgive.”

Ranma offered Nabiki her very best smile.  “Thanks, Nabiki.  What would I do without you?”

The other girl replied with a grin that lit up her face.  Wordlessly, she kissed Ranma on the cheek and hurried off to her next class.

The redhead brought a hand up to her cheek wonderingly, blushing red as a fire engine.  “Huh,” she said.  It was the second time in as many months that a beautiful girl had kissed her on the cheek when she was in girl form.  As least Nabiki hadn’t decided to kill her, afterwards.  Ranma paused.  “Yet?” she queried aloud.

“You!  There!”

“Hm?” Ranma turned around towards the gym, already not liking the speaker’s tone of voice.

A large, muscular woman stood in a nearby doorway to Ranma’s right.  “What’s your name, young lady?”

“It’s Saotome Ranma, ma’am.”  Ranma bowed.  “I’m new here, and—”

“Well, Saotome Ranma—if that’s even your real name—you’re late.”

“If that’s even my—huh?”  The lady had grabbed Ranma by the wrist and pulled her with a great deal of force.  Ranma wasn’t sure she wouldn’t have twisted something if she hadn’t been quite limber from her fight earlier in the day.

The woman placed her other hand on wide, muscle-rippled hips.  “Get in there!” she commanded, pointing to the entrance rigidly, like a drill sergeant.  She then flung Ranma through the doorway; by the time Ranma caught her balance, she had already stumbled inside.  The redhead froze. 
“What is it, Saotome?”

“This is the girl’s changing room!  There are naked girls!” Ranma exclaimed, reddening and averting her eyes.

“What were you expecting, the French Foreign Legion?” the woman barked.  “In!  Now!”

Ranma reddened even further.  “Ma’am... I have a, er, medical condition...”

“INNNN!!!!!”

Several girls giggled as Ranma made her way into the locker room, her eyes determinedly fixed to her feet, her face red as a tomato.  She didn’t have to go far; Nabiki’s locker was number seventeen, so it was in the very first row.

Moving along, still keeping her head determinedly down, she missed the shocked look Akane was giving her.  Akane had locker number fifteen— the lockers were assigned as per surname—and was looking at the redhead as though she’d lost her mind.

Ranma, for her part, was still operating on tunnel vision, and passed by the other girl without a word.  Silently, she slowly read Nabiki’s combination to herself and withdrew the bra in question.

Ranma blinked.  It looked like a very tight shirt, to her.  A very brief, very tight shirt that crossed around behind her neck in white cotton.  Well, then; not so bad, after all.[3]

“Psst!  Ranma!!!”

Ranma lifted her head to search for the voice; a mistake.  Immediately she blushed ever further, then paled in something like shock.

“Breasts,” she murmured faintly.

“Eep!”  Akane was immediately in her field of vision, blocking all else.  “Are you nuts?!  What do you think you’re doing in here?”

“I’m a girl, Akane!” Ranma proclaimed angrily.[4]  “Where am I supposed to be, with the guys?”

Akane worried her lower lip.  “I... guess... but, Ranma...”

“Hn?”

“Next time, change in the bathroom before you get to gym class, baka.”

“Oh.”  Ranma blinked.  “Sometimes you’re really smart, you know that?”

Akane flushed with pleasure.  “Thanks.”

“I’m sorry about before,” Ranma tacked on.  Hah, Nabiki! she thought to herself triumphantly.  How’s that for vague?

“Sorry about what?” Akane queried curiously.

Ranma froze.  “About... whatever made you upset,” she fumbled.

Akane’s expression darkened.  “You mean you don’t know?”

“TIME’S A-WASTING, GIRLS!!!” a loud, vaguely feminine voice belted out.  Several of the girls jumped; Ranma attempted not to notice what that did to interesting parts of their anatomy.

“I-I’ve got to hurry,” Ranma stuttered, throwing off her red Chinese shirt and pulling the white sports bra over her head and adjusting it around herself.  Ranma blinked as she felt it press her breasts quite close to her body; so this must be what girls did when they needed to fight and stuff!  She’d need to remember this one, as her breasts constantly got in her way, whether it was running, fighting, or even trying to pick things up in the way she normally did as a guy.

“NOOOOWWW!!!!”

“Mrs. Ashi sounds particularly nasty today,” one of the girls commented as she jogged out.  Akane shrugged at Ranma in a way that somehow suggested Ranma was still not one of her favorite people but she was halfway forgiven, and jogged out into the gym.

Ranma pulled her pants off and reached into Nabiki’s locker to remove her gym uniform.  Okay, so here was the underwear, though Ranma didn’t see why anyone had to change their underpants for gym class... where were the pants?

Ranma began throwing things out of Nabiki’s locker in desperation, looking for the bottom half of the gym uniform, until she remembered Nabiki’s words, her embarrassed expression... calling the gym uniform a pedophile’s fantasy...

Oh dear.

Ranma shook with suppressed anger as she pulled herself into the teeny-tiny... could they even be called shorts?

She looked down at herself with trepidation.  Oh, dear.  If she’d been a boy, she would have...

Ranma shook her head.  Need to rephrase that.  If Ranma had ever seen herself walking down the street in this getup during her all-boy days, she would have collapsed promptly from a severe nosebleed.  Well, at least the shirt wasn’t quite so bad, Ranma admitted to herself, pulling the white cotton over her head and sighing with relief.

Oh dear.  The shirt was too long for Ranma.  It covered her to her hips, making her really look like she was only in her underwear.  She hadn’t thought Nabiki was that much taller than she was!  There was no way she was stepping out of this room, no way in hell!

“SAOTOME RAAANNMMMAA!!!”

Ranma eeped.  “Yes ma’am!”

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

Outside, several of the girls stared at her in stony silence.  Akane’s gaze was shuttered and blank, and Ranma couldn’t even begin to figure what that meant.  As for the boys, they were someplace in between awestruck and incredulous.

“Miss Saotome!” Ashi-san barked.  It seemed that the woman couldn’t go more than a couple of sentences without barking like Joi.

“Yes, ma’am?” Ranma inquired.

“Why is it that you’ve neglected to put on your shorts?”

Ranma reddened.  “They’re on, ma’am.”

“Funny, it doesn’t look like they’re on,” Mrs. Ashi shot back.  “Boys, does it look like Miss Saotome is fully clothed to you?”

Some of the boys, taken aback at being addressed by the girl’s gym teacher as well as surprised by the question, obviously let their minds wander.  Several trickles of blood spouted from several different noses, including Hikaru Gosunkugi’s.

Ranma blinked at them and reddened even further.  If there was ever a time she’d been this embarrassed, she didn’t remember it.  She lifted her shirt slightly, desperate for the woman to simply start class.  “The shirt’s just too long, Mrs. Ashi, it kind of covers these shorts...”

“Put your shirt down, young lady!  I think you’ve exposed enough of yourself for today.”

Ranma felt her blood begin to boil, her helpless feeling dissipating in a tsunami of anger.  “It would help if these shorts weren’t meant for an eight-year-old girl!” she accused.  Several of the other girls giggled.  “Why can’t we wear normal pants, like the boys?”

“Well, Miss Saotome, since you’re so keen on being like the boys... why don’t you play with them today?”

The redhead froze.  “B-but...”

Several of the Furinkan boys were now leering openly.

“NOW, Miss Saotome...”

Ranma slunk off to the other end of the gym; one of the boys had even managed to offer a hoot and whistle.

Just as Ranma felt her world narrowing into a haze of red, Akane broke into her vision.

“Miss Tendo, unless you also feel like playing with the boys,” Mrs. Ashi growled, “you’ll come back here this instant!  But if the past is any indication, you’d enjoy the attention!”

Ranma came out of her world of despair with a snap when she realized there were tears in the other girl’s eyes.  For a moment, it seemed as though the world dissipated around the two of them, as though there was no gym, no stupid gym outfit, nothing else but them—Ranma looking surprised, Akane looking sorrowful and frustrated.

The redhead gulped, noticing how Akane looked when she was sad.  It was a horrible thing to think, a horrible thing to do, to admire somebody while they were upset, as though they were a work of art rather than a person in pain, but Ranma did it because she had no choice.

Akane was beautiful.

With a sigh, Akane moved to put her arms around Ranma.

No.  Am I dreaming?  I’m dreaming!  She half-expected Akane to start purring suddenly, but there Akane still was, her arms reaching for Ranma’s waist.  In front of kami-sama and everyone! Ranma thought, something in her panicking.  But would it be so bad?  Would it be so bad if... if... if she...

...kissed me?

Just when Ranma was beginning to get the courage to put her arms around Akane, too, the dark-haired girl drew back.

Ranma blinked as she realized Akane had two handfuls of Ranma’s oversize shirt.  With a deft twist, Akane tied them tightly together, and there was suddenly a knot of cotton at Ranma’s waist.

You could suddenly see Ranma’s shorts.  Panties.  Whatever the pedophile inventor of the torture devices had christened them.[5]  Ranma had seen girls do that with blouses: not button the bottom couple of buttons and simply tie the two ends of the shirt together, often under their breasts.

“There now, all better,” Akane told her softly, and ran off to go play softball with the girls.

The redhead stood silent and still, breathing heavy, knees weak, and nose full of the scent that lingered in Akane’s room.  The smell of Akane—her hair and her skin.  She muttered an imprecation under her breath, running a hand through her bangs distractedly.

The world returned with a vengeance.

“—DONE WITH YOUR HALLMARK MOMENT, WE’LL GO OUTSIDE!!!” Mrs. Ashi was growling at the Tendo girl as she herded her students out the double doors towards the back of the gym.

Was there a moment, or had Ranma just imagined it?  Was Akane crying because she thought Ranma was really upset, or did she actually have something in her eye?  There was certainly some tenderness in Akane’s actions, but did she just feel bad for the redhead since she was getting teased?  “ ‘There now, all better’?!” Ranma quoted wryly under her breath.  “Christ!  Who does she think she is, my mother?!”

“Boy,” Hikaru said to her congenially, a wide smile on his normally placid face.  “You’ve got it bad.”

“Shut up, pervert,” Ranma demanded, still mindful of Hikaru’s drawing of she and Akane.  “It ain’t like that at all, that’s just your twisted little imagination hard at work.”

“Well, in case you want to know, it’s not just my twisted little imagination,” Hikaru chirped.  “It’s what everyone’s saying.”

“All right, team, line up!” the male gym teacher was ordering.  “On this line!  Now, captains—pick your teams!”

“What?!” Ranma hissed.  “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that every guy at Furinkan thinks you have a thing for Akane, not just me.”

Ranma shook her head, trying to ignore him, but was unable to let something like that go unanswered.  “No, sorry, Hikaru, but you’re imagining that, too.”

“Are you kidding?”  Hikaru Gosunkugi’s eyebrows raised into his hair.  He ticked off each point as he spoke.  “First of all,” he said to his right-hand index finger, “Nabiki announces that you and Akane are engaged, even though the entire thing is something of a farce.”

“Something of a what?”

“Er... even though the two of you don’t really believe you’ll marry, I meant.  That’s more than enough grist for the rumor mill.  Second of all, Kuno pulled that big one-eighty on you two.  He has to have a reason.  And of course, there are those pictures...”

“You little snake!” Ranma accused.  “How’d you find out about those?!”

“Nabiki again,” Hikaru announced.

“I don’t want to hear the third of all or the twentieth of all!  Akane isn’t like that, she’d never do anything with a girl,” Ranma announced, crossing her arms over her chest.

“But you wish she would,” Hikaru commented.

“Baka no hentai!” Ranma accused.[6]   “You just keep your perverted little thoughts out of me and Akane’s lives!”

There was a ringing silence that drew the attention of the pair.  Ranma looked up to realize that everyone else had been picked for teams, save the two of them.  They were surrounded by a great deal of empty space.

All the boys were staring at her with newfound speculation.

“I pick Gos,” the team captain on the left announced.

Ranma hung her head, feeling like cursing out the entire universe at the top of her lungs, only able to stand there and be the last one picked for gym.  She guessed the way the guys figured, even Hikaru was better than a girl.

Ranma learned her mistake when they finally started playing basketball.  “I’m open!  I’m open!” she cried, watching as the boys refused to pass to her, one by one.  The other team got the ball and scored.  “You jerks!” she accused.  “Why didn’t you pass to me?”

No one answered her; most of the boys satisfied themselves with shrugs.  The next play made it harder to ignore.  Nobody on the opposite team even bothered to guard her.  “Hey, I’m o-pen,” she announced, enunciating very clearly.  Yet still, none of the other guys seemed to hear her.  Once again, the ball flew past her, intended for another student’s hands, but this time it flew to her team’s basket, though with a great deal of difficulty.  Ranma reddened.  If they’d just give her the ball, she would be able to score and this whole stupid girly nonsense could stop.

The ball moved back and forth down the court, and Ranma simply watched it move back and forth, open as a half-drunk can of soda, her head bobbing like a jack-in-the-box as she watched the action, unable to participate.  Her team was falling behind significantly, because all she did was get in the way and block the person she’d been assigned to guard: Hikaru.  Of course, since Hikaru was really doing the same thing she was, it wasn’t turning out to be much of a game.

“Pass to me!” she finally growled.  “What’s wrong with you idiots?!”

One of her teammates paused, a boy she didn’t recognize; one with a long scar running across his cheek.  “We don’t play with dykes,” he spat, and passed the ball to a young man behind her.

Ranma froze as the game moved beyond her.  It wasn’t the fact she was in her girl form at all.  It was because she was engaged to Akane!  Stick to Akane at all costs, indeed! 

Ranma felt it all swim in to cover her at once.  All of a sudden, there were tears in her eyes, tears that weren’t shed yet, but that were threatening to.  She’d never received this hostile a reaction from anybody she’d ever known, and the way they were ignoring her!  It made her so angry...

Growling under her breath, Ranma took off down the court, abandoning her post.

“Huh?” Gos murmured as the redhead streaked past him, her scarlet braid whipping his face.

With a graceful leap, Ranma landed lightly behind Scar-kun, and stole the ball from him.  She scooted down the court, evading her opponents like some elusive, exotic butterfly, leaping up to gently tap the ball into the hoop.  She turned to face her team and stuck out her tongue.  “Biiidah!” she announced.  “How’s that, huh, jerk?” she demanded, growling at Scar-kun, bristling like an enraged cat.  “No guy ignores me!”

“Huh!” Scar-kun harrumphed, striding to her and standing very close.  “Sensei, we’d better get a new ball, since the dyke touched it!”

The gym teacher raised a hand slightly in the air in the gesture for pause.  “Yoreko, I suggest you stop the name-calling this instant.  The young lady’s had quite enough.”

Ranma was surprised and pleased that at least one of the gym teachers had the sense kami-sama gave a cabbage.  Scar-kun nodded, appearing to realize he’d gone too far, but turned to glare at Ranma the moment their teacher had turned his back.

“You ain’t a young lady,” Yoreko hissed under his breath.  “You’re something in between.  You hear that, dyke?  You’re a freak!”

With a strangled growl, Ranma jumped him.

“Miss Saotome!” the sensei exclaimed, pulling Ranma’s light weight off of Yoreko easily.  Ranma’s attack had been unplanned and decidedly feminine, not to mention full of rage.  She had scored Yoreko’s face with her fingernails; four bloody tracks ran from underneath his eye to his chin.  One of his eyes was swelling and threatening to blacken as well.  Ranma for her part was unharmed but she stared daggers at the rest of the boys.

“Any of you come near me again, I’ll claw out your eyes!” she announced.

“Ranma!” the gym teacher suddenly barked.

The redhead let herself go limp, then suddenly burst into tears.

“Premenstrual bitch!” Yoreko announced.

“That’s quite enough from you, young man.  Go to the principal’s office and ask him for a new haircut.”

“But...”

“Now.”

“But she attacked me!” he whined, pointing to his eye as though the evidence was not obvious enough.

The man’s voice went low and dangerous.  “I thought I made myself clear, Mister Yashimoto.  I thought I’d made myself very clear.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Ranma, please go to my office and wait for me there.”

Ranma was still crying, but she managed to nod and stumble off.  Sitting in the office right outside the boy’s locker room, she couldn’t imagine how she’d allowed herself to lose control like that!  What if she’d seriously hurt Yoreko?  Sure, he was a jerk, but he didn’t deserve to die or anything, and many of Ranma’s attacks really were that damaging.  Oh, and Akane would be soo disappointed in her!  She wiped at her eyes hurriedly—for heaven’s sake, she really was turning into a girl!  No!  She needed to relax, be calm.  Everything would be okay if she could just calm down. 

The redhead forced herself to take slow, deep breaths.  She’d just let herself get angry and frustrated because they wouldn’t let her play, that was all.  It was no big deal, not really.  Stop focusing on it.  Think of something else.

Ranma fumbled about for something she was not depressed about.  That made her cry some more.  Wait, Nabiki!  Nabiki had been very nice to her today, letting Ranma borrow her shirt and...

...the oversized shirt... Akane...  Ranma found herself suddenly bawling afresh.

“Well, Miss Saotome?  What do you have to say for yourself?”

Ranma looked up at the male gym teacher and opened her mouth.  She was miserably satisfied to see his expression change; he hadn’t realized she was quite this upset.  “I’m s-s-sorry,” she stammered, and broke into fresh tears.

“Well,” he said uncomfortably.  “There, now.  Are... is everything okay at home?  I know you’ve just moved, and it can be difficult to adjust.”

“I’m adjusting just fine!” Ranma sniffed.  “It’s everybody else that’s having the problem!”

“And do you usually hit people who seem like problems?”

Ranma sniffed and hiccoughed, shocked out of her tears.  She wiped under her eyes.  “N-no,” she replied.  Yes, she thought.  Had Nabiki been tossing her a tiny clue about her own personality when she’d mentioned that Akane always thought with her fists?  It was a sobering thought, but she’d never really lost control like that before.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” the sensei said tiredly, as though he had heard her thoughts, running a hand over his face in weariness.  “Nothing’s different about today?  Why do you think you hit Yoreko the way you did?”

Ranma gulped.  “I really don’t know, sir.”

“Now that’s a problem,” the sensei said sternly.  “When we do not know the root of our mistakes, we tend to repeat them over again until we learn.”

The redhead suddenly had a terrible thought.  “A-are you going to expel me?!”

“Of course not,” he said, his voice flat.  “But expect this to go on your record.”

“Y-yes, sir.  Well... I guess it was just the last straw, today.”  And before she knew it, she was telling him everything—the way she and Kuno had fought together this morning, and how she and Akane had fought directly afterwards—how Nabiki had demanded money for advice she should have given freely—how nervous she was having to undress in front of strangers—her problems with her uniform—her sensei’s badgering—Hikaru’s telling her about the rumors concerning she and Akane—and the boys making her sit out the game, for all intents and purposes.  She went on and on, all of it spilling out in one tearful gush.  When she was done, the sensei put a hand on her shoulder.

He’s touching me, Ranma thought, suddenly and irrationally.  Why is he doing that?

“Don’t worry about it, Ranma,” he said kindly, squeezing her shoulder a bit.

Why is he doing that?!  Ranma bristled, wondering why that was bothering her so much.

“The new kid stuff wears off,” he added, removing his hand as though sensing her touchy mood.  “Soon they’ll forget you weren’t here all along.  Trust me, I’ve seen it over and over again.  Once you find a boy you like, the rumors about your friend Akane will stop and you won’t have to worry about them anymore.”

“A boy I... like?” Ranma inquired, blinking up at him hesitantly, her blue eyes clouded.

“Certainly.  One that you’d like to go steady with, Ranma; that’s what I mean.  As for your gym teacher, Ms. A—I’m afraid she’s always been this way.  Ever since I was in school, anyway.  The boys didn’t usually get on her bad side, but this one time, she made me clean the boy’s locker room floor with my tongue.  It was an experience I don’t care to repeat.”

Ranma raised her eyebrows, unable to tell if he were joking or not; but suddenly he began to laugh, and so did she.

“Fortunately or unfortunately, both Akane and Tatewaki have reputations for changing their feelings about things very rapidly,” he tacked on.  “I doubt this knight-in-shining-armor business or Akane’s anger will last long.”

“You think?”

He smiled again, warmly.  “I do think.  Quite often.  And in this case, I think I need to send you to the nurse’s office.”

“Hm?  Why’s that?”  She gave herself a cursory examination, checking her arms and legs for bruises.  “Did he get me?  I thought I—”  The sight of a small spot of blood on Nabiki’s gym shorts drew her to a stammering halt.

Thus completing what was, perhaps, the worst and most embarrassing school day of Ranma’s life.

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

By the time the redhead reached work after school, she was beginning to wonder what all the fuss was about.  Sure, it was really annoying and all, and –dear Kami-sama above, embarrassing, she’d never live it down—but it wasn’t really all that painful.  Maybe girls just had different pain levels than guys did.

But, ‘protection’ firmly in place, Ranma strolled around Tofu-sensei’s office as usual, Joi at her heels, learning Tofu-sensei’s special filing system and checking occasionally on Ryoga, who the doctor said had been sleeping ever since he’d drained his wound.  This was uncomfortable, but it was something she could deal with pretty easily.  Maybe Akane had just made more out of it than it was, really, so that she could claim being a girl was hard.  No—that wasn’t like Akane.  It was more likely that Akane had made this whole thing out to be a big deal because she was afraid Ranma would panic utterly if she didn’t.  Well, the redhead was doing just fine, thank you very much.  No biggie.

Now what was that nice gym teacher’s name?  She was mortified, of course, but she could easily thank him for being so nice to her... via a note or something.  The only problem was addressing it.  “Dear Sensei” didn’t sound quite right, really.  She’d have to ask Akane for his name.  Provided Akane was feeling better, which Ranma was pretty certain she was.

Joi yipped, and Ranma leaned down to pat the dog on the head.  Joi licked her hand, seeming concerned; the redhead wondered uneasily if he thought she was injured or something.

The rest of the afternoon and the better part of the evening was spent either announcing that the doctor was ready for another patient or playing with the dog.  No big deal!  No big deal at all.

When Ranma arrived at home, Akane, Nabiki, Kasumi, and Soun were all gathered together.  “Ranma...” Akane began.  She did seem to have forgiven her, after all.  Her eyes were sad.

“What’s up?” the redhead queried, bobbing to sit down next to Akane.  “Why’s everyone so grim?”

“Your father’s up and disappeared, that’s what,” Nabiki said tartly.  “He kept saying he was looking for a job, but he was really making travel plans.  And now he’s gone.”

“W-what?”

“Oh, Saotome, how could you have done this?” Soun wailed.  “First you tell me you have a boy when you really have a girl—then you try to marry them anyway—and then you leave her behind for me to take care of!  Waaahhh!”

“Don’t be silly, Daddy,” Nabiki cut in.  “Ranma’s paying her own way.  She was at Tofu-sensei’s.  She’s his assistant, now.”

“Waaaaah, one of my little girls has a job!”

Ranma blinked.  “M-mister Saotome, I’m not one—”

“—to brag,” Nabiki cut in, shooting the redhead a warning look.  “That’s why she didn’t tell you.”

“Oh, I’m so proud!” he wept, sweeping Ranma into a forceful hug.

“But... where’d dad go?” she demanded, extricating herself from the man’s soppy embrace.

The three girls looked uncomfortable for a moment.  “We don’t mean he’s gone off to do something, dear,” Kasumi finally said, gently.  “We mean he’s left town.”

“Maybe for good,” Nabiki tacked on, never one for dancing around an issue.

“I’m so sorry, Ranma!” Akane added, her eyes downcast.

“You guys don’t get it!” Ranma asserted, not realizing that her eyes were full again.  “He probably went to cure the—” she halted.

“The curse?” Kasumi inquired.  “No, Ranma; I think he finally came to his senses about your supposed curse, didn’t he?”

“You don’t understand!” Ranma cried, her body quivering with suppressed energy.  “He’s lied a bunch of times, and even stolen some stuff, but he’d never leave me behind!!!”  Even while she assured the others, her brain was remembering that Genma had wanted to bolt the very first night, and she’d refused.  All but told him to go on without her.  But that was because she’d known he wouldn’t, damn it!  She’d... been so sure...  Ranma compressed her lips and felt her tears finally break free, spilling down her cheeks.  She sniffed.  “I’m going to my room,” she announced suddenly, and walked up the stairs, slamming the door behind her.

Without her guyhood, it was obvious that Genma no longer wanted her.  Christ, she didn’t want her.  This stupid girl body had things like boobs that got in the way, periods, and people were always making dumb assumptions about her all the time.  Besides, she was way too short to even make a decent-sized girl; Nabiki and Akane were inches taller than she was.

She didn’t make a good girl.  It was time to face it.  There was obviously more to being a girl than being able to pout or show a lot of leg, and Ranma had scraped together enough information to realize she’d only just scratched the surface of the feminine gender.  It was too complicated, probably not just for the Great Saotome Ranma but for anyone—the complexities of gender were obviously something one had to learn all her life, not try to pick up on the fly in three days of intensive training.  In the end, what she was was a complete failure as a woman—but she knew she could not go back to the boy she used to be after this.  She knew that for a fact.

Ranma lay on Akane’s bed, her eyes closed tightly as she thought back to her father’s speech about women making men weak.  Ranma knew she felt weaker, but it was not because of Akane at all; she had done it to herself, chasing something she’d never have: a normal life.  Trust pops to hit the wrong nail right on the head, she said to herself.

A normal life!  Hah!  A normal life was way more trouble than one on the road.  On the road there were no attachments, nothing to tie you down.  Nobody to worry about by yourself.

Nobody to hold you and tell you that you won’t be alone anymore, either.  No one to fill the quiet hours of the night with quiet sleep-talking or soft chatting.  Empty bed, empty road. 

No.  It had been so much easier being a guy.  You never had to think about anybody’s reactions to what you might say or do, never think about what someone might say next so you could plan your response.  So much easier when you never had to worry about who you might be hurting.[7]

Kasumi and Nabiki and Akane.  They’d been anxious when she was hurt, that night.  But they’d dismissed Mister Tendo, who’d been worried over the same thing, and he’d gone, relieved.  Emotions were woman’s domain, and they protected it fiercely, believing a man could easily botch any job they let slip through their fingers.

Maybe some of that nervousness was transferred over to men, who were often confused or unsettled in times of distress, while women let their mothering instincts kick in. 

Mothering.  What was she to Akane, anyway?  Akane’s pet project?  Science project?  Freak?

Ranma’s mind was wandering, and she realized she was tired, and ready for sleep.  “Tomorrow.  Hot water,” she said aloud.  “And... and I’ll try to be... again...”

 

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

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

 

Author’s Notes:  Hi all; thanks for waiting.  Tendo-Saotome Anything Goes is living up to its title.  That is, it seems to be going in a million directions at once.  Five chapters or so down the road, the story splits into three different tales.  One has Genma as the main character; one focuses on Ranma, still; the other pools many characters together to create a group adventure story in which Ryoga is the main focus.  For a long time, I couldn’t decide which of these I wanted, or if, perhaps, I wanted a combination of the three.  Now that I have a little bit more of an idea what I want, I felt I could continue posting.  :)