Tendo-Saotome Anything Goes

Nope.  Don’t own ‘em.  Nope.  Or I wouldn’t be working in a flower shop.

I highly recommend avoiding the footnotes until the end, then referring back.  For those of you who find scrolling down or up very annoying, I’ve found a way to make each footnote a link when you read this on the website.  Then you can click the back button and be exactly where you were in the story.

C&C always appreciated.  Flames wilt the flowers.

 


Shampoo eyed her captors warily.  All men.  All outsider men.  And she was bound.

Dear Gods, what would her great-grandmamma think of the situation?  Of her, for allowing it?  But how was she to know that one amongst them had some knowledge of the pressure points?

She could hear her grandmother’s voice berating her: Shan Pu, foolish, foolish child.  A true warrior is always ready, or always working towards readiness.  Always have I admonished you to never underestimate your opponent; and yet here you are, captive of a wounded man, a small, buxom girl-thing, and a weak man doctor, for the simple reason that you assumed you could conquer them in a breath. 

Shampoo averted her eyes in shame; then, almost against her will, her mahogany eyes slipped around the man-doctor to Ryoga, who was heaving and panting heavily, his own dark gaze fixed to hers.  The older man was attempting to babble Chinese at her.  The proud warrior blocked out the noise until he uttered a word she could not ignore.

“Juketsusokou?”

Shampoo’s head snapped up.  “Juketsuzoku,” she corrected.  “I wasn’t aware that your people knew of us.”

“It’s rare,” he replied, shifting his glasses higher up onto his nose with one finger.  “I make it my business to know of the magic and lore that surrounds us.” 

His Chinese was accented, but it was easy for her to make out.  “Witch-doctor,” she pronounced.  “Magician.”

“You could say so.  But your people are nothing more than a legend to me.  Forgive me, but you seem awfully reasonable for someone come to murder one of my patients.  There must be a reason you have hunted Ryoga all this way.  And Ranma, too, unless I am mistaken – or unless you mistook one for the other.”

Shampoo froze as she worked this out.

“That’s right,” the doctor replied with a slightly self-satisfied smirk.  “Of course I know.  I could scarcely call myself a doctor if I couldn’t tell.  Ranma’s curse is very interesting to me – and so is the psychological impact of a young man remaining a young woman for what appears to be indefinitely.”

The young Amazon stiffened, glancing at Ryoga and Ranma; but neither evinced comprehension of what Tofu had just revealed.  She turned to raise a plum eyebrow in the doctor’s direction.  “You’re right.  It’s... interesting to me, too.  However – Ryoga concerns myself and my people far more.”

“How’s that?”

Shampoo’s eyes narrowed.  “Think I should give information out like sweets on a holiday?  Foolish Outsider!  The Juketsuzoku guard their secrets!”

The doctor smiled unpleasantly.  “I know the pressure point that causes truthfulness.”

The purple-haired Amazon paused.  “The one that also causes other sorts of behavior.”  Her tone was flat, but she wondered whether the doctor could hear the quiet desperation beneath.  “I... suppose that it would do no harm to tell you what you face.  But first you must tell me your name, and your family name.”

He nodded.  “Ranma you know; family name, Saotome.  Ryoga’s family name is Hibiki.  Doctor Tofu Ono is my name, and I do wish we could’ve met under better circumstances.  Do go on.”  He smiled for the first time, and it was a warm smile, and reassuring.

Shampoo let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding; he had the ability to seem approachable, at least.  “The boy’s wound was grave,” she replied.  “Moreover, the beast that dealt the blow was not an ordinary monster.  It was a Clatha, a beast whose poison slowly replaces the chi of its victims, until the victim is a living husk.  Once the person’s chi is entirely replaced, he follows the will of whomever commanded the original beast.”

Tofu stared at her.  “I have misunderstood your dialect –”

“There’s no misunderstanding,” Shampoo cut in.  “The Clatha’s poison will eventually kill the boy, and no mistake.”

“But why try to murder Ryoga, then?” Tofu bit off.  “He seems to be well on his way to death entirely without your help!”

Shampoo shook your head.  “You hear the half you wish to hear, magician.  He will follow the will of whomever commanded the original beast.  The boy will become an evil thing like the Clatha.  His spirit will die within him until there is nothing left of what had once been his soul.  Now do you understand?”

The doctor stared at her, his face pale.  “Yes,” he whispered.  “But – but why have you, in particular, been sent to kill him?  Who sent you?”

The Amazon girl took a deep, steadying breath and averted her eyes.  “The original monster passed through our lands, killing two innocent boy-children who were wandering too far from the village.  As for me, I’m the best warrior of my generation; and I was bound for a quest already.”

“Ranma,” Tofu supplied.

“Ranma,” Shampoo echoed.  “Ranma was to be my bounty – and now my bride, I suppose, if he refuses to change shape.  For that matter, I’m to bring you back as well.”

Tofu blinked.  “Excuse me?”

“Not familiar with our laws at all, are you?” Shampoo inquired, not unkindly.  “Any man who beats me is bound to marry me; any woman who does goes on my list of enemies.  Understand?”

“What?!”

The Amazon grinned, happy to have the upper hand with this strange Outsider for once.  “No mistranslation there, either, Airen.  You are most certainly mine.”

Tofu flinched.  “And... how are you to return to China with two unwilling martial artists, both exceeding your skill?”  He frowned.  “For that matter, how were you supposed to defeat a woman who’s better at fighting than you are?”

The purple-haired girl paused, taken aback.  “I...”

“Besides which, can’t some better-skilled warrior venture from your village to kill anyone who threatens your society?... wait, no, that would take away part of the purpose behind the thing...”

“What are you talking about?” Shampoo demanded.

Tofu laughed, a warm inviting sound.  “It’s a silly bunch of laws you’ve got there, young lady.  I’m not marrying you in any case.  I’ve got my heart set on someone else.”  He paused to shake his head again in helpless laughter.  “Besides, attempted murder isn’t the best way to this man’s heart.”

She squirmed and struggled against her bonds, wanting to hit him more than anything in the entire universe, her face turning red from embarrassment and anger.

He took pity on her for the first time.  “So, is there a cure for our friend?”

“There’s no cure for the boy!” Shampoo snapped.

“Why do you keep calling Ryoga ‘boy’?” Tofu inquired.  “He’s at least your age, if not a year or two older.”

Shampoo turned her head haughtily away from the doctor, not wanting to explain; however, she understood herself better than she let on.  Despite having learned Ryoga’s name, she had no wish to use it.  She preferred ‘boy’, ‘target’, ‘monster’... anything but his name.  It had been difficult enough to see his face, to hear him speak.  She glanced at Ryoga with undisguised pity.  It did not mean that she would not do what she had to in order to preserve the tribe, as well as the life of her ungrateful new husband – but she didn’t have to like it.

“In any case,” he murmured, as though she had replied, “I’ll find a cure.  It’s what I do.  And I’m even better at it than I am at stopping foolish children like you.”

“No one can find what doesn’t exist,” Shampoo said, “and I’ll continue coming at the beast until it lies dead.  This I swear by my Sisters.  Do you hear?”

Tofu stood, looking down at her gravely.  “Ranma...”, he said, turning to the redhead.  And then he spoke to her in a tone of command, uttering something in Japanese.[1]

“What was that?”  Shampoo had caught the word ‘please’; but she could tell what he’d wanted from the redhead, because ten minutes later, the police were there to pick her up.

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


Ranma suspected that this was something like being hung over.  She felt drained, displaced, headachy, dizzy, and... was that...?  Yes!  A small splattering of vomit on the edge of her lacy, effeminate apron.[2]

Make that exactly like being hung over.

There was also despair on the edges, waiting to get into her consciousness, but the vague numbness appeared to be heading it off at the pass.  One of the only friends she remembered from her childhood was going to die.  Nastily.  Ranma tried to dredge up some kind of feeling, some sort of emotion about it, but she was still blinking dazedly, trying to take in all that Tofu-sensei had explained to them.  Tofu himself had disappeared into his office to make a few calls, telling them that he would start work on Ryoga’s cure immediately, not to give up hope; but he had also informed the pair, in no uncertain terms, exactly what Shampoo had told him.  There was very little chance the Amazon was wrong.

Ryoga himself appeared to be taking it even worse than she was, she noted; although that was, she supposed, only to be expected, the life in question being his.  Still, it was jarring to see his too-dark eyes in that pale face, with dark circles standing out boldly underneath, a cool sweat on his forehead.  Most disturbing was the expression in his eyes, some kind of macabre acceptance, a sort of mad comprehension, almost as if he expected the worst to happen, and now it had.  “Hey, well,” he managed hoarsely, “I mean, why not weird monsters?  If it wasn’t that, it’d have been a rock slide, or some kind of spell or curse, or maybe some dragons or something.[3]  Sure!  I mean, I wander all over the damned planet!  Something like this was bound to happen someday!”

Ranma sat frozen for a moment, wondering how she could have possibly divined Ryoga’s thoughts from his eyes.  Didn’t girls do that, though?  Didn’t they sometimes understand others, just because?  Wasn’t that women’s intuition?

Ryoga had stood, and was pacing the floor, agitated beyond the ability to be static, to be silent.  “And why not me?  It isn’t enough that I can’t find my way from the front door to the bathroom, it isn’t enough that I haven’t seen my parents or my house for five years, it isn’t enough that life’s a dark and lonely place...!” A strange, manic energy was growing around the Lost Boy, writhing and twisting around his pacing form.

Ranma frowned, interested for the first time since Tofu-sensei’s inspiring announcements.  “Ryoga...”

“...It isn’t enough that my sworn enemy turns out to be nothing but a woman!” he murmured, half aware of her call.

The redhead’s blue eyes widened.  Ryoga’s aura was now a pitch black and kelly green mass that distorted half of the office, a dark perversion of chi.  “Ryoga!” she shouted, jumping to her feet.  “What do you think you’re doing?!  Stop that, damn it!”  Then Ranma was moving towards him, and she felt as though the feeling had flooded back into her self, into her soul.  Joi ran out to Ryoga and began to yap at him, but the Lost Boy was scarcely distracted from his rantings.

“IT ISN’T ENOUGH THAT ALL MY DREAMS HAVE DIED, ONE BY ONE!!! IT ISN’T ENOUGH THAT EVERYONE I’VE EVER KNOWN HAS DESERTED ME!!!  IT ISN’T ENOUGH THAT I’LL NEVER HAVE A HOME!!!! IT ISN’T ENOUGH THAT I’LL NEVER BE LOVED!!!!”

Ranma felt her entire body begin to tremble with the force of Ryoga’s burning chi, forcing her back.  He would burn himself out if he kept this up!  What was wrong with him?! 

More cause for wonder was the sheer amount of chi bundled around his violently trembling frame.  His features were almost completely obscured by the swirling eddies of dark, violent, and depressive chi tumbling around him as he stood in the eye of the hurricane.

Tofu-sensei rushed from his office, exclaiming at the huge whirlwind of chi before them.

The redhead’s mind was running in panicked circles.  Dear Kami-sama above, what if the Amazon girl was right?  What if he is going to do something terrible?  Then, what IS he doing?  All that chi, just swirling, going around him, and...  A terrible thought occurred to her.  A chi blast.  Ranma had only ever seen a chi blast a handful of times; one of the masters she had encountered in China had known the trick.  He had warned her that if the chi blast became too large, it could burn the caster to ashes when released.  He had warned her that a chi blast that huge was something of a last resort, used when a martial artist believed his own life less important than his enemy’s death.

All this swam through Ranma’s mind; she was drowning in spinning thoughts, in spinning chi.  Ryoga’s would-be blast would soon engulf Tofu-sensei’s entire practice.  “My God,” she heard Tofu breathe behind her.  He began murmuring something, a protective enchantment, perhaps.

Ranma blocked him away from her thoughts.  Watching Ryoga destroy himself was possibly the scariest and most painful thing she’d ever witnessed.  He’d begun to laugh, strange and high-pitched and obviously half-mad with pain and power.  Ranma spared a moment to marvel at the great martial artist Ryoga Hibiki could have been if he’d lived.

Then, she heard, “RANMA!  RANMA!!!”

With a shock as palpable as if she’d been smacked, Ranma came back to herself.  The successive shocks had made Ryoga’s predicament seem dreamlike, unreal – but he was in trouble, and calling her name... 
“RYOGA!!!” she screamed, and fought hard against the wind, leaning into the blast and pushing against the tile floor of Tofu-sensei’s practice .

“I CAN’T STOP IT!!!”

Ranma bit her lip and forced her way towards him.  “YOU’VE GOT TO LET IT GO!!! YOU’VE GOT TO RELEASE IT!  IF ALL THAT CRASHES DOWN AT ONCE....!!!”  Ranma didn’t know what would happen if Ryoga let go of that much chi, but she knew for certain what would happen if he didn’t.

There was no reply, but the storm gained in frenzied intensity.

Finally, Ryoga’s voice emerged from the ether, both reply and addition to his long list – “I HAVE NO REASON FOR LIVING IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!!!”

The gigantic whirlwind began to coalesce into a gleaming, writhing sphere of darkness and green light the size of a small asteroid.

“No,” Ranma said softly but determinedly, and then she was finally falling within the glow and the pitch black.

It was like being submerged in icy water.  All of a sudden, she could plainly make out Ryoga beside her, looking half-dead, shivering as intensely as she was.  Around them both, the emerald lights flashed, highlighting their pale features.  It was like being inside of a cool, foxfire-lit cave.

Only infinitely more unpleasant.  Ranma couldn’t help but suddenly become aware of the emotions swimming past her: the sorrow, the deep despair, the hopelessness.  They were not feigned.  Ryoga truly did feel that he was the universe’s personal joke, the sport of the fates – he believed that love could never find him, and that he would only become lost chasing it.  He missed his parents, he missed going to school every day, he ached for permanence.  He set his tent up every night in precisely the same fashion in order to maintain the feel of something solid, something he could count on, something that wouldn’t abandon him...   

Wait.  How do I know –

The moment she became aware of them, the memories rushed to cover her, water moving to close over her head.

Park in the park sunshine, bright and a boy and wearing a white gi, sunshine on the grass, his hair, a laugh, the problems on the board today, Saoko likes him but he leaves, the leaves are turning different colors, he says, and that means that his father will want to train him, but he’s already better than I’ll ever be, but he leaves, and he snatches the bread fastest, and he runs the fastest, and the girl I like loves him, but he leaves me in the lurch, the empty lot, the schoolyard, no the lot behind the house, can’t find it can’t find him, he leaves, I HATE –[4]

Ranma wrenched herself away with difficulty, gasping for breath as though she’d been under for too long.  “What?”  But she could hear without hearing – I HATE THAT EVERYBODY LEAVES, and now the green was smaller, she’d taken some into herself, and it hurt, damn it!  It hurt.

And just like that, a whole bunch of it was leaking away – no, not away, into Ranma herself, but the images and feelings were far too rapid to make out.  She had the sneaking suspicion she’d only seen the one because it had something to do with her.  The rest were dark as the barrel of a gun, but the noise they made was one long, despairing wail, leaving Ranma’s ears frozen and ringing.

Let it go together.  The strange thing was, Ranma wasn’t sure who’d thought it.  The blackness fell away from them; the green lights, like will-o-the-wisps, flickered fitfully before winking out.

It took a moment more for Ranma to realize that she was in an enormous amount of physical pain.  Every muscle ached and burned like half-thawed frostbite, but a moan from Ryoga’s direction and half the pain seemed to disappear in sheer relief. 

Tofu-sensei’s glasses had fallen aside, and the entire office was a shambles.  Nothing seemed broken at first glance, except for her desk chair, but there were papers and files everywhere.  Ranma blew her stray tufts of red hair away from her face with an exasperated huff of breath.  Some reward for saving Ryoga’s life!  She’d have all of the file nonsense to do over tomorrow.  Joi barked excitedly and leapt into the air, relieved that Ranma had managed to get rid of the local weather in his usual hangout.

The doctor grabbed her arm roughly.  “Ranma!” he exclaimed, sounding hoarse and strange.  “Ranma, what did you do?!”

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

“Ranma... Ranma!”

“Mmm, Akane, just five more minutes...”

“Ran... MA!”

“Fine, what?!” Ranma demanded, sitting up with a jolt and banging her head against Akane’s.  “Ow!”

“Ow yourself,” said the voice again, and it was obviously not Akane’s voice.  Ranma’s eyes flew open to find Ryoga Hibiki standing next to her cot and rubbing his forehead with a grimace of pain painted across his features.

“Ryoga!” she exclaimed in surprise, her brain frantically playing catch-up.

“Ranma!” he echoed in obvious imitation.

“Give me a minute,” she commanded, still rubbing her forehead. 

She could recall Tofu-sensei’s voice: “What if this happens again?  Ryoga is a time bomb, Ranma – a time bomb only you know how to diffuse.  For Ryoga’s safety – and the safety of those around my practice – you must remain here tonight.”  She’d spent a restless night, but she figured that she must’ve fallen asleep at some point. 

“Just one more minute,” she repeated.

“You don’t have one,” he announced.  “You’re going to be late for school.”

“What?  School?”

“Damn, you’re slow.  That’s what I said.  School.  Late.  You.”

“Shut up!  I thought I wasn’t going today.  I thought I was supposed to be watching...”  Ranma paused.  “What are you holding?”

Ryoga hefted a small bag into the air.  “My schoolbag,” he replied gamely.  “Don’t stare at me like that!  It’s none of my doing.  But the fact is...”  He took a deep breath, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.  “The fact is that you saved my life twice, Saotome, and there’s no backing out of that one.  Moreover you’re a girl, so it’s rather obvious to me that we can’t continue to be rivals.  So... truce?”

Ranma blinked at him.  “Were we fighting?”  She swung her legs off the cot and stood, running her fingers through her bangs.

“Exactly!  Who knew you’d be so forgiving?  So, anyway... where’s this school of yours?”

Ranma moved to the bathroom and found a toothbrush still in its casing.  She removed it and tossed the empty box into the trash.  “Do you think it’ll help to tell you?” she inquired, wetting the brush and hunting for some toothpaste.

Ryoga didn’t reply.

“Just follow me, okay?  It’s Furinkan High School.”  Ranma scrubbed her teeth quickly, then spat into the sink.  “Let’s go.”

The two of them exited Tofu-sensei’s practice, Joi at their heels.

“No!” Ranma said in her best commanding voice.  “You’re supposed to stay with the doc, remember?”

Joi whined, looking torn; first he trotted back a few steps, towards Tofu’s, then turned around to head after the redhead.

“I don’t know why he wants to follow us,” Ryoga mumbled under his breath.  “He always hated me.”

Ranma hefted the dog in her arms and carried him back to the building, dropping him in the waiting room and shutting the door.  Then, she ran back to Ryoga.  “Sorry, he ain’t usually like this.”

They had been walking for a minute or two when Ryoga spoke up again.  “So who’s Akane?”

Ranma jumped, having been lost in her own thoughts.  “Uh... how do you know about Akane?”

“You were saying the name in your sleep: ‘Akane, Akane’, and you called me Akane when I woke you up.”

Ranma blushed.  “Eh heh...”

“So, who is he?  Your boyfriend?”

All of the redhead’s discomfort dissolved, and she began to laugh.  “No, idiot, that’s my best friend.  I’m staying at her place – wait, there she is!  Akane!!!”

Akane turned, looking worried and oddly pale; but when she saw the redhead, her face lit up with her thousand megawatt smile.  She jogged over to the pair, throwing her arms around Ranma.  “Thank goodness!  We were so worried until Tofu called!  If you hadn’t called right after supper, I don’t know what I would’ve done...”  She suddenly seemed to notice that they had company, and detached herself from the redhead’s embrace.  “Uh... Ryoga.”

“So how does everyone and their brother know my name?” he groused.

Ranma snorted.  “Akane saved you the other day, you jerk.  She was the one who noticed you lying in the bushes.”

 Ryoga had the grace to look embarrassed.  “S-sorry, Akane-san.  I should be thanking you.”

“It was nothing,” Akane told him.  “Hey!”  She grabbed Ranma’s arm.  “There’s other good news.  Hikaru isn’t dropping out.  I called him this morning to apologize for working him too hard, and I told him about what you’d been through, about the chi absorbing thing.  He said ‘impossible’, but he also sounded really impressed.”  Akane pulled Ranma in a little closer and lowered her voice.  “But how long is this sticking-with-Ryoga thing going to last?  How long are you supposed to be staying with Tofu?”

“Well Saotome,” came a dry voice, “I hear you’ve made yourself into a hero!”

“Nabiki,” Ranma announced.  “For your information, I didn’t make myself into anything.”

“I’m not here to bust your chops,” Nabiki cut in with an impatient wave of her free hand.  “Kasumi made you a special bento today to commemorate the occasion.”  She dropped a three-tiered bento box into Ranma’s outstretched arms.

“Wow... thanks!”  The redhead looked like she was threatening to drool all over the checkered picnic cloth that Kasumi had used to wrap her creation.

Nabiki laughed with her hand pressed against her mouth, as though she was afraid of sounding too delighted.  “You act like you haven’t eaten in days!”

“Well, almost one whole day,” Ranma admitted.  “Not since yesterday’s bento!”

Nabiki grinned at her.  “Good work, Sister-in-law.  You’re getting good at getting on my good side.”  She waved to the trio.  “Good to see you’re feeling better, Ryoga, but I’ve got to get to school.  Some... business to attend to.”

“Thanks, Nabiki!” Ranma called after her, holding her oversized bento box in the air.  “So,” she added, turning to Akane.  “Explain what happened with training yesterday.”

“Lady Ranma!”

Ranma turned around to see Kuno jogging to catch up to them, wearing, she was happy to see, something relatively normal: a pair of khaki pants and a white dress shirt.

“Lady Ranma?” Ryoga echoed.

Tatewaki Kuno was already viewing the Lost Boy with immediate dislike.  “And who is this rogue?” he demanded.

“This rogue is...” Ryoga began heatedly.

“Wait a minute,” Kuno cut him off.  “Isn’t it customary that the challenger give his name first?”

“Oh, no, not this again,” the redhead moaned.

“Put a sock in it, Kuno!” Akane demanded.

Ranma huffed, exasperated.  “Tatewaki Kuno, meet Hibiki Ryoga, a childhood friend.  Childhood friend Ryoga Hibiki, meet Kuno Tatewaki, student and current friend.  Settled and satisfied?  Good.  Kuno, up on the fence.”

“But I – huh?” Kuno inquired.

“Up!”

Grumbling to himself, Kuno leapt onto the fence and managed to balance.  Ranma joined him, straightening her white shirt once she’d arrived, landing in her customary pose: one leg pulled up close to her body, arms out.

“Showoff,” Ryoga muttered.

“Stay down there, if you like,” Akane said politely.  Then she leapt for the fence.  “Let’s go!” 

Ranma set the pace, walking quickly, knowing that Kuno’s balance was better when he moved more swiftly.

“What is this childhood friend doing here, in any case?” Tatewaki demanded.  “You’re not engaged again, are you Ranma?”

“Good joke,” Ranma said flatly.  “No, it’s chance.”

“Chance!” Akane murmured sotto voce.  “Do you suppose he was looking for you, Ranma?”

“You’re right.  He could’ve followed me here.  He talked about being rivals, and how he was gonna forgive me.  Maybe he came here to fight?”

“Fight?!” Kuno exclaimed.

“Shh!!!” Ranma and Akane demanded in concert, making certain that Ryoga was still out of hearing range.  The Lost Boy was walking with his head down, obviously concentrating very hard on following the line of the fence.

Tatewaki lowered his voice slightly.  “He came here to fight you?  What kind of man would battle a young goddess such as yourself?”

“Your kind, Kuno,” Akane reminded him.

“Heh.  Well.”  He wisely kept silent after that.

Maybe he’s learning after all, Ranma decided with a smirk.  Then the smile dropped right off of her face.  If Ryoga was after me in the first place... if he was following me... damn it, his predicament is my fault!

“Ranma!”  Hikaru was standing on the street below, Ryoga eyeing him curiously.

Ranma halted and crouched on the edge of the fence.  “What’s up?”

“Thanks for standing me up, sensei,” he said, but his tone of voice was surprisingly friendly.  He didn’t sound like the same kid who’d accused her of finding excuses to beat him up.

“I’m really sorry,” Ranma said.  “Come up on the fence!”

“How does that go together?” Hikaru demanded.  “If you were sorry, you’d go easy on me, unlike King Kong over there.”

“Biiidah!”  Akane replied, sticking her tongue out at him and waggling her fingers in his direction.  “I already apologized all I’m going to, Hikaru, so deal with it.”  She wobbled briefly from her display, before finding her feet again.

“The view certainly is spectacular up here,” Kuno commented idly.

“Fine, fine.”  Hikaru scrambled up the chain-link fence, swearing quietly all the way.  Once he reached the top, he paused, feeling eyes on him.  “Quit staring!!!  It’s like you’re brooding over which bone I’ll break!”

Ryoga, Ranma, Akane, and Kuno all rigidly and immediately faced forward.  Ranma turned slowly to peek. 

Slowly, Hikaru stood, both hands out for balance.  “Okay, let’s go!”

Unlike Kuno, though, his balance seemed to worsen the faster he was moving.  The on his third step, his foot hit the edge of the iron pole almost promptly slid off.  Ranma started towards him, but the gangly boy managed to regain his balance on his own.

Once they were well under way, Hikaru glanced very rapidly down at the sidewalk below.  “So, who’s that weirdo following us?” Hikaru pondered.  “Another of the Akane fan club?”

“Childhood friend Ryoga Hibiki, blah blah blah,” Kuno rattled off.  “Ranma’s, that is.”

“What, Kuno, jealous?” Akane queried with laughter in her voice.

“Of whom?” the redhead inquired dangerously.

“...”

Ranma smirked.  Kuno really was learning.

Kuno, Akane, Ranma, and Hikaru made an odd procession balancing along the top of the cast-iron fence.  Several girls looked up in amazement, then giggled when Ranma flashed them her cock-sure smile and waved, prompting a small scowl from Ryoga.

Kuno and Hikaru, however, had to focus their entire attention upon the thin stretch of metal in front of them, sweat beading on their brows.  Although both Akane and Ranma were keeping close watch on the pair, neither girl had her arms out to offer support, or in readiness in case somebody fell.  Ranma walked with her hands thrust in her pockets, while Akane strode along with her arms out for balance like a tightrope walker—that is, in a way that was entirely for effect.  Meanwhile, Kuno and Hikaru teetered, stumbled and swore their way to Furinkan High, gaining titters from the girls and low, amazed whistles from the guys when they leapt and landed. 

Hikaru’s legs immediately gave out.  “My legs are made of jello,” he suddenly announced in an utterly bleak and humorless tone of voice.

Ranma blinked down at him.  “Funny.  They look like legs,” she replied.

“Jello,” he reaffirmed, but he was already taking her offered hand to pull himself to his feet.

“Do you complain of the attentions of my lady?” Kuno demanded roughly, crossing his arms over his chest.  “Do you dispute her in public?!”

“Eh heh...”  Ranma looked at Hikaru nervously, but the other boy was actually looking abashed, to the redhead’s abject surprise.

He shrugged.  “Guess I’m just naturally crass!  See you in homeroom, okay?”  He waved at the four and slipped inside the building.

Kuno appeared mollified, or perhaps even strangely gratified.  “I did know that beating I administered must do some good...”

Ranma’s lips thinned.  “A martial artist does not pick on those weaker than he is.  Thirty push-ups, please.”

“But lady, he sullied your—”

“I don’t care if he sullied my grandmother’s wedding kimono!  Thirty!  Now!”

With a slightly put-upon sigh, Kuno promptly dropped.

And with a somewhat satisfied expression, Akane sat on him, pushing his back down with her weight.

A resounding “oof!” echoed across campus.

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


Ryoga felt strange and oddly self-conscious.  Here were all these people – all strong, and witty, and sort of attractive – and all sort of pretending he didn’t exist.

Not in an insulting way.  In an accepting way.  Like anybody who was okay with Ranma was okay with them.

Ryoga had never understood Ranma’s ease while interacting with others.  Ryoga himself had always been soft-spoken, shy, making constant and consistent mistakes in how he dealt with people.  The only kind of exchange he felt comfortable with was the exchange of blows.  Ranma, on the other hand, flashed that grin of his – er, of hers – and people just seemed to form a line to smile back.

He found himself staring at her.  It was just too weird.  A boy, then a girl.  And the odd thing was, other than a minor affectation or two, Ranma acted just the same as she had while pretending at being a boy – wore the same clothes, moved the same way.  Her laugh had altered, become more feminine.  Other than that...

Other than that, she was his rival from the seventh grade.

Could he really just let go of this rivalry in the name of her femininity?  Despite the fact that she had grown curves in all the right places, she was still the same Ranma who’d tortured and teased him all through junior high, wasn’t she?  Wasn’t she the one who’d starved him out at lunch, who beat him easily every day, who called him names and... and walked him to and from school every day...

Ranma didn’t fit together.  She was some kind of puzzle, the iron kind with the interlocking pieces.  Why would anyone be so brash, so rude, then follow it up with something so kind?  Now Ranma seemed to have forgotten the terrible things she’d done and decided to remember only the good.  Ryoga snorted.  He supposed that was a great idea, if one could manage it.

“Ryoga,” she said.

The Lost Boy started guiltily, casting about for the source of her voice; he felt an illogical impulse to hit her for intruding on his thoughts – and also for everything...

“Ryoga – it’s this way.”

He found her with his eyes; she was rolling hers.  “Come on.”

Ryoga looked around, realizing that he had somehow entered the school, and that none of Ranma’s friends were around; he must’ve wandered off.

“Honestly.  But, well... just like old times, huh?” she inquired, taking hold of his sleeve and dragging him along with an open grin.

Ryoga returned it shakily.

The pair of them moved through the press of Furinkan students with some difficulty.  Ryoga had no idea where all of these people had come from.  Surely, there were not this many students in all of Tokyo! 

Akane leapt up and waved, beckoning them forward.  “So it’s true, about your sense of direction?” Akane inquired, taking Ranma’s elbow and leading the way through the halls.

“You told her?!” Ryoga demanded.  Damn it, he did want to hurt her.

“Well, she would’ve found out eventually,” Ranma replied, “once you sent her a postcard from Venice.”

Akane tsked.  “You two sure insult one another a lot.”

Ranma paused, both physically and verbally, before replying.  That was new, and it derailed Ryoga’s building rage.  “Maybe we do.  I really ought not to make such fun of him.  Being lost all the time is horrifying.”

Ryoga frowned in confusion, his eyes traveling to his sleeve, where Ranma’s grip was so strong that her knuckles shone white.  Being lost in Furinkan would be horrifying, left out in the halls after everyone else had found their classes, no idea of where to be, no idea of how to find Ranma or Akane.  Ranma had somehow managed to put herself in his place.  She had made up her mind to look out for him.

“Come on or we won’t have time to register you,” Akane said, pulling at Ranma’s wrist to get her moving again.

“R-register?” Ryoga stammered.

“Yeah.  For classes, Einstein.”  The redhead giggled, that definitively feminine laugh she’d picked up.  “Boy, it’s instinctive!”

“I’m guessing you two had the kind of rocky friendship that’s usually reserved for two boys,” Akane deadpanned.

“Hit the nail on the head,” Ranma said in tandem with Ryoga.

The redhead and the Lost Boy stared at one another briefly, taken aback.  Ranma grinned.

Ryoga was pathetically grateful to see the door to the main office.  Once they were within, the only sounds were those of the humming ac unit, and the head secretary typing; it felt like a universe utterly separate from the one outside, with paper airplanes flying, lockers slamming open and closed, and the incessant chatter of a group of people pretty pissed about being where they were.  To Ryoga, who had been alone for almost three years straight, and had a lot of trouble with large crowds, it seemed like an oasis in the middle of a desert.

Make that the eye of a hurricane, he thought glumly.  I have to go back out there, don’t I?

Ranma and Akane shoved him forward.

“What?” he demanded.

“Announce yourself!” Akane stage-whispered.

Ryoga looked down at the head secretary.  She was wearing a pink, fuzzy sweater, flats, and horn-rimmed glasses.  She did not ask if she could help him.  There was something... strangely intimidating about her.  “Uh...”

She didn’t look up.

“Uh... I’m Ryoga Hibiki... and I’m living here for now... and I n-need to register for courses?”

The middle-aged, bespectacled woman finally looked up.  “Well, then.  Welcome to Furinkan High,” she deadpanned.  “Let’s get you started, shall we?  I’m Yumi, head secretary –”

“And if you want anything done at this school, you ask her,” Akane broke in.

Yumi tried to look irritated at being interrupted, but pleasure was plain on her face.  “So they say,” she replied.  “So – family name Hibiki?”

“Yes.”

She scribbled some kanji on a black-and-white form.  “Ryoga.”

Ryoga nodded.

“Age?”

“Sixteen,” Ryoga replied after a moment’s thought.

“All right.  Now, what was the last year of school you completed?”

Ryoga found himself turning red.  “A martial artist doesn’t have to know all about history or economics,” he snapped.  “I don’t know why I have to be here anyway.  I don’t even live here, technically speaking.”

“Don’t listen to him, Yumi-san,” Akane said sharply.  “Technically, he most certainly does.”

“Answer the question, Hibiki-san,” she replied.  “What was the last year you completed?”

Ryoga mumbled something under his breath.

“Clearer, Hibiki-san.”

“Seventh grade!” he barked, his blush going nuclear.

“Well then.  Nothing to be ashamed of.  We teach lots of remedial classes here, Hibiki-san.  You’ll still be with young men your own age.  Next question: school of martial arts?”

Ryoga’s shame dropped like the stock of Enron.  “Huh?”

Ranma goggled. 

“This is Furinkan High, Hibiki-san.”

“Er... my own school, I guess.  Hibiki-ryu.”  Plus a couple of things I’ve added, he thought to himself.  Man, I miss that umbrella.  Whatever happened to– [5]

“Is that a school?” Yumi pondered, her pen hovering over the empty field.

“Yes, it’s a school!  Dating back to my great-great-grandfather!!!”

Yumi placed her pen carefully but decisively on a sheet of paper.  “Hibiki-san, if you wish to matriculate the hallowed halls of Furinkan, you must learn to control that temper of yours.  The very last thing we need in this building is yet another troublemaker.  Do I make myself clear?”  She exhaled noisily.  “I’ve had this conversation with many of the students here.”  Yumi’s eyes beneath her horn-rimmed glasses slid to Akane. 

Ryoga nodded.  “Yes ma’am,” he replied grumpily.  The truth was, he was having a little bit more trouble than usual keeping his temper in check.

“That’s better.  Now, Ranma-san.  I’m going to give you leave to pick up Hibiki-san slightly before the school day ends, but you’ll have to come in early if you want to drop him off in homeroom before school starts.”

Ryoga exchanged a wary glance with the others.

“Uh... h-how do you know about his getting lost all the time?” Ranma inquired.

Yumi smiled thinly.  “I know everything, Saotome-san.”[6]  She handed Ryoga a small slip of paper, and Ranma and Akane small, white envelopes.  “Since you’re here, I’d better just give these to you now.”

Ranma and Akane made to tear at the white paper, but Yumi held up her hand.  “Open them once you’re in homeroom; you’re already late as it is.”

“Uh... thanks.”  Ryoga bowed awkwardly as the three of them rushed from the room.

“Man, she gives me the creeps sometimes,” Ranma commented, shivering theatrically.

Ryoga opened the sheet of paper that the head secretary had given him.  Listed there in neat kanji were all of his classes, in chronological order.

Akane frowned.  “You mean she had that all ready?  Maybe she is just psychic.”

“Or maybe she found out my name from Tofu-sensei or someone else,” Ryoga interjected dryly, “then looked at my school records.  They’d tell her I never finished eighth grade.”

“So how did that happen?” Akane inquired.

“Akane...” Ranma said warningly.

Ryoga frowned, angry again, but less so.  There was just something about Akane asking a rude question that didn’t seem quite as intrusive.  Still, the now-familiar blush was creeping up his cheeks in embarrassment.  “Er... I couldn’t make it to school for a month or so, and...it was Ranma’s fault!” he added in a more confident tone of voice.  “I mean, if he had been there, then I would’ve been fine!  But instead, he had to go off with his stupid dad and–”

“What does that have to do with school?” the youngest Tendo inquired curiously.

“I f-followed him.  Her.  Ranma.  To China.  That was the last schooling I had.”

Akane grabbed his arm.  “Do you mean to tell me you’ve been looking for Ranma for two years?!”

Ryoga mumbled something softly.

“You and I are going to have to have a little talk later on,” Akane murmured in reply, releasing him.

“I’m sorry,” Ranma cut in, her face turned away from him.  “I’m really, really sorry.”

Ryoga said what came automatically to his lips.  “Uh... well, it’s okay.”

The redhead frowned.  “Huh?  I made your life a living hell, and it’s okay?”

Akane was watching the exchange like a spectator at a tennis match.

“Well...” Ryoga replied.  He wondered why he’d said that.  It wasn’t okay, not really.

“Is this because I’m a girl?” Ranma demanded.

Ryoga thought about this.  “That could be it.”

“You can’t just decide you don’t hate me because I’m a girl!” she snapped.  “Are you saying you would hate me if I were a guy?”

“But you’re not – so end of discussion,” Ryoga replied, folding his arms across his chest.

“Gah!  You’re insufferable!” Ranma accused.  “You’re saying that if I were a guy, you’d have come in here guns blazing, but since I’m a weak little girl, you’re willing to make nice?”[7]

“That’s pretty much the gist of it,” Ryoga replied, one eyebrow raised.  Despite the churning feeling in his stomach as Ranma’s aura manifested, part of him didn’t want stop himself.

“I’ll show you how ‘weak’ I am!” Ranma growled, lunging for the smug-looking martial artist.

Luckily, Akane was there in time to catch her.  “He’s injured!  He’s injured!” she sang like a litany until the redhead calmed down.

Ryoga laughed.  “Has anyone ever told you you’re cute when you’re angry?”  For a reason he couldn’t fathom, he really wanted to irritate her. 

Ranma turned to Akane.  “Pleeeease let me kill him.”

“You’re not allowed to kill him until he’s better,” Akane said; but it was easy for Ryoga to see that her temper was almost at the breaking point as well.  “And you!” she shouted at him.  “Are you forgetting that Ranma’s the only thing you have at this school?  Make nice, for crying out loud!”

“I was trying to!” Ryoga moaned.  And he had been.  What had made him just alienate the only people he knew in Nerima?  He felt sick.

Ranma grabbed the front of his shirt, lifted it slightly into the air until it was choking him, and proceeded to ‘lead’ him to homeroom.

She waited until his hands were on the door handle to his new classroom before she turned and stalked away.  Just like no time had passed.  Just the way it used to be, in junior high.  He was a damned burden to her and her friend, but she still didn’t seem to mind, even when he insulted her. 

This morning, he had been so ready to forgive her.  She’d been sleeping so soundly, her red hair splayed everywhere, and her limbs spread out as far as they’d fit on the cot, like a cat basking in the sunshine.  She snored, too, a soft rumble.  Looking at her had made him feel – he didn’t know.  Sort of peaceful.  It had seemed a shame to wake her.

Her dog had wandered in the room and started to lick his hand.  Ryoga had automatically moved to pet the animal, never taking his eyes off of her – his strongest rival.  Damn, but she was beautiful.  Her hair shone copper in the sunshine that was streaming through the window.  She twisted in bed, murmured something that Ryoga now knew was ‘Akane’.

He thought he might have loved her, for just that moment.

Then she had to wake up, and remind him that she was Ranma, not just some pretty girl who’d saved his life, Ranma, who tortured and insulted him just by being alive. 

His anger didn’t seem made for the world; it was too big.  He wanted to rend the planet off its hinges.  He wanted to scream, he needed to tear the sky down. 

NO!  No, I won’t.  Control, Ryoga, control.  He could see the green chi beginning to entwine his torso, spreading out from his wound like a cancer.

Ryoga closed his eyes and took deep breaths, desperately casting about for something else.  Anything.

Akane.  He moved his focus to Ranma’s best friend, thinking of only her.  He was not angry with her, he had not shared anything personal or sacred with her.  She was safe.  She was an anchor. 

Ryoga opened one eye hesitantly.  The swirling, writhing slips of emerald had departed the hallway.  He sighed in profound relief.  Maybe he didn’t need Ranma.  Maybe he could control this himself.

A sudden overwhelming disquiet in his stomach made him find the nearest garbage in the hallway and make quick use of it.  Luckily, there hadn’t been many people in the hallways anymore; class was about to start.  With rigid determination, Ryoga turned exactly one hundred-eighty degrees and found the proper door.

Wiping his lips against his sleeve and doing his best to smile, he strode into the first classroom he’d seen in two years.

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


Ranma blinked at the small sheet of paper in her hands.

Saotome Ranma-san,

It has come to our attention through your physical education instructor, Ashi-sensei, that you have not been participating in class.  You are advised that your current, midterm grade is NP.

The redhead crushed the sheet of paper in her hands.  Ashi-sensei was out to get her, that was all there was to it.  After sending her to Yashimoto-sensei, she was now claiming that Ranma hadn’t been to class at all!  Had Ms. A been marking her absent for every time she’d been sent to the boys’ side of the gym?

She murmured some choice imprecations under her breath, and smoothed the letter in her hands.


You will be required to attend a special class in order to make up your failing grade.  Please see Yashimoto-sensei fifth period today.

The missive was not signed.  If it hadn’t come from Yumi-san, Ranma would have been sure it was a joke. Whether everybody knew it or not, Yumi actually ran the school: she made sure the budget worked, the schedules were to everyone’s liking, and every mechanical device in the school was attended to properly.  She also had struck an excellent deal with a small construction company in Nerima to keep a stock of new windows, fresh chair/desk combos, and ceiling tiles solely for the use of the school.  In short, she was Nabiki Tendo in inexpensive flats and horn-rimmed glasses, and it was wise to keep on her good side.  Ranma had to trust something that had come directly from the head secretary’s hands; which was, come to think of it, probably why she had handed the letters to Ranma and Akane in person.

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


Several hours later found Ranma and Akane taking the steps five at a time, jumping as balance practice, and utterly startling any students who had not yet witnessed their strange activities.
 
“Ow!” Ranma announced as Akane took the opportunity to kick her yet again.  It took the redhead a moment before she could regain her footing.

“Just trying to get your attention,” the girl said sweetly, as Ranma glared at her.  “What did your letter say?”

“Something about failing gym,” Ranma admitted.  “I’m supposed to see Yashimoto-sensei about it today.  Well... at least I’m doing all right with Watakashi-sensei.”  She grinned at the youngest Tendo, displaying her 92% with a quick snap of the paper.  “Second-highest in the class.”

Akane rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.  “That’s the third time you’ve mentioned it.  Want to get the exam sewn into your clothes?  I’m sure we could – ow! – manage it...”

The ‘ow’ had been because Ranma had whapped her across the back. 

“I’ll consider it,” the redhead said peevishly.

Akane withdrew her letter from her pocket and showed it to the other girl as they strode through the halls. “Anyway, mine says the same thing.  But I’m not failing gym,” Akane informed her defensively.  “I’ve been there, in gym clothes, every day.  I don’t know what the heck they think they’re talking about.”

Ranma shook her head in bemusement as they entered the first floor ladies’ room.  “I could understand if it was just me,” she mused.  “I mean, the past two or three days, I’ve been training Hikaru instead of playing basketball.  But it’s not like Yashimoto-sensei can fault me for that.”  Her lips twisted in a sneer as she entered one of the pink-painted stalls.  “None of the guys would touch the ball after I had.”

Akane’s voice sounded from the stall next to hers.  “What’s this about?” she inquired lightly.

Ranma flinched.  “Uh... t-they thought that you and I were... together.  And didn’t take too kindly to the idea.”  She slipped her white Chinese shirt over her head and folded it in her arms.  “Being gay isn’t really catching, is it?”

A fit of giggles emerged from someplace to Ranma’s left.  “No.”

“Well then, I don’t understand what their problem is!”

“You’re not gay in any case, Ranma.”

“I’m not sure.  My situation is... unique.”

“Mmm.”

“I mean, do I qualify?”

“If you’re going to be technical, I guess you do.”

“Huh.”  Ranma slipped Nabiki’s gym shirt over her head and with the rapidity of several days’ practice, knotted it efficiently at her waist.  The redhead thought about this as she undid the drawstring to her black pants and slipped them off one leg at a time.  “It doesn’t bother me, though.  It’s a fact.  But it’s a fact that has nothing to do with basketball.  Or sports of any kind, for that matter.”

“Agreed.”

Ranma pulled on her burma and emerged from her stall.  She reached behind her to tie her hair back.  “Ready when you are.”

Akane emerged from the stall to Ranma’s left, ran a swift hand through her own short bangs and stuck her tongue out at the mirror.  “Biiidah!” she declared.

Ranma grinned and shoved her aside.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, ‘my hair doesn’t lie flat’.”

“No, it just blows dramatically in the wind!” Ranma teased.

“Oi, shut up, Ranma.  Nowhere near as dramatic as that color red.  You don’t dye it, do you?”

“Are you kidding?  You’ve seen my black hair!  I don’t –”

“I’m joking, Ranma, joking.”  Akane put her arm across the redhead’s shoulders.  “Stop taking me so seriously, baka.” 

Ranma turned to look at her.  The youngest Tendo’s voice had grown soft and affectionate.  The arm gripping her shoulder was soft, too, and warm.  She was forcefully reminded of the first time Akane had ever touched her like that, when they’d both emerged from the dojo to engage in the first mutual lie of many: that they had fought one another, and that neither had won.  Ranma could recall the feel of Akane’s body up against hers, of Akane’s arm around her shoulders, both burning her with their heat.  Her face had been redder than her hair, and she’d felt like she was going to explode. 

Akane’s dark grey eyes were examining hers, her brow furrowing, as though she was... thinking something along the same lines?

 No...  Ranma remembered, too, the feel of Akane’s arms wrapped around her waist, of Akane leaning towards her, sighing... only to adjust an article of Ranma’s clothing like she pitied her or something.  I have to be imagining things again...

Yet the moment was stretching out.  They were just standing there in the bathroom, staring at one another, Akane looking lost and yearning and a little confused.  She reached out to run her fingers through Ranma’s red bangs, until they lay flat.

“There,” she said, “all better.  At least you look okay.”  She turned on her heel and exited the bathroom.

Ranma exhaled heavily, trudging behind the other girl.

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


“Ah!  The beauteous Akane Tendo, and my Lady.”  Kuno stood at the entrance to the gym, looking pompous and self-satisfied.  He was wearing his old hakama and carrying his bokken.

“What’s up?” Ranma inquired. 

Kuno grinned, looking truly manic.  “Bwahaa haa!” he said, throwing his head back to laugh.

“Kuno, man, you know you look utterly nuts when you do that,” Ranma said, laying a cautioning hand against his shoulder.  “Scary.”

“Truly?  Well, in any case... I have arranged something very special for my two senseis.  I forged my father’s signature, and –”

“Ranma!”  Hikaru trotted up to the four of them.  “What’s this about my failing gym?  I mean, first the Bio test, now this...”

“I’m sure you’ll recover,” Akane said dryly.

“Not from failing a class!” Hikaru moaned.  “That’ll really screw up my GPA!  Goodbye, Tokyo U....!”

“No, no, foolish peasant,” Kuno cut in.  “You are not failing physical education, despite your puny performace.  I have arranged something for–”

“Saotome Ranma!” Yashimoto-sensei cut in.

Kuno slumped, deprived once again of his right to finish a sentence. 

Akane leaned in close to him.  “It’s karma,” she intoned.  “All that pontificating...”

“Ranma, I’m glad to see you here.  Maybe you can explain this.”  The young gym teacher was waving a written missive in the air – one that looked surprisingly like Ranma’s and Akane’s.  “It seems that the principal has ordered you to teach a marital arts class during gym time.  Do you know anything about this?”

Ranma blinked.  Then she turned to Kuno, who was grinning.  “Uh.  No?”

“I see.”  Yashimoto-sensei shrugged.  “Well, weirder things have happened.  To me.  Here.  So, have a good time, I guess.”  He wrapped an arm around Ranma to take her aside and have a more private chat with her.  “You did well with Hikaru the other day during gym, you really did.  But... you have to be careful with someone like him.  You betray his trust once, and you won’t get a second chance.  And the next person who tries to get close to him will have an even harder time than you did.”

“I wouldn’t give up on Gos,” Ranma said sternly.  “I’m a teacher too, sensei.  Before this whole business, I accepted Hikaru as my student.  I won’t turn my back on that.”

Yashimoto-sensei’s lips quirked into a smile.  “Good.  That’s good.  I’m glad you’re taking my advice, Ranma-chan.  Why don’t you take your class outside?  Unless I’m mistaken, both Ashi-sensei and myself are in the gym today.”  He grinned widely.

“Sure!” Ranma replied.  She bowed, then trotted back to join the others.

“WHERE ON EARTH AM I...?!  Wait a minute...”  Ryoga was standing in the doorway and blocking several other students from entering the gymnasium.  A small pileup was gathering behind him.  “This appears to be the school gym.”

“Ryoga!” Akane exclaimed.

“You made it, bud!” Ranma added.  “We were worried.”

“Huh.  Whadda you know...”  Ryoga still appeared utterly amazed.  “After you walked away from my classroom, I feared I would never see you two again.”

Kuno blinked, then made the universal sign for insanity in Hikaru’s general direction.

Gos seemed to think that this was incredibly funny.  “You should talk, sempai.”

“What is he doing here?” Kuno inquired of Ranma, somewhat sharply.

 “Let’s see,” Ryoga replied.  “I was going to the bathroom...”

“It’s just as well,” Ranma said.  “Tatewaki, you can get him registered in this class, right?”

Kuno grimaced, then shrugged.

“How did you do that, anyway?”

“My father is the principal here at Furinkan.  Don’t tell me I never mentioned it?”

“Okay, I won’t tell you,” Ranma replied.  “Won’t you get in trouble?”

Kuno frowned.  “It’s hard to say.  He may be furious – he may be proud.  He may ignore it entirely or be entirely unaware.”

Akane twirled her index finger around her ear to make the universal sign for insanity Kuno’s general direction.

“As coarse as the suggestion is, fair Akane, it is all too true.  My poor father is quite unbalanced.  I am sicker of pineapple than I can say.”

Akane had the decency to blush at being caught, but she recovered in time to nod sympathetically.

Ranma, who had utterly no idea what pineapples had to do with anything, cleared her throat loudly.  “So... uh... let’s get to it, I guess.” 

Akane, Kuno, and Hikaru replied with varying degrees of enthusiasm and made their way outside.

Ryoga lingered behind, of course, but Ranma managed to fetch him before he ended up in Guam.  “Who’s that guy?” he demanded, peering over to the boys’ side of the gym.

“What guy?  Which?  The guy with the scar?”

“No.  Uh, the teacher, I guess.”

“Yashimoto-sensei.  Why?  Think he’s cute?”  Ranma had to admit that, in an abstract kind of way, from a purely asthetic perspective, Yashimoto-sensei was.  He looked like he was still in his twenties; his smooth, dark hair was almost the same color as Akane’s, and was pulled back from his face in a ponytail.  He was tall, and had an open smile.

Ryoga growled at her.  “I’m not the cross-dresser.”

“Fine, fine,” Ranma cut in, feeling a little uncomfortable with the direction her thoughts had been taking.  “So why do you wanna know, then?”

Ryoga pushed the gym door open, and stepped aside to let her through first.  “I’m not sure.  He looks kinda familiar.”

“Familiar?”  Ranma slipped outside and into the warm sunshine.

“Yeah.  I could swear I’ve seen him someplace before.”

“Never mind that!  Let’s go!”  She tugged on his arm and managed to drag him outside. 

Once Ranma had stretched her arms over her head and begun to lean from side to side to loosen up, she fixed Ryoga with a steely glare.  “Don’t you walk where I can’t see you.”

“I’m not a child,” he snapped.

“Could’ve fooled me.”  She jogged off to the middle of the open field behind the school, where Akane was leading the rest of the group in some stretches.  The redhead was practically jumping up and down with glee as she viewed them: her first class.

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


The streets were full of children who’d been let out of school, and adults who’d been let out of work.  The city hummed with a busy sort of feeling that Ranma was coming to like.  Fall was coming to Nerima, touching the willow trees in Nerima Park with deep yellow.  To her, it seemed like the whole world was painted in gold.

Hikaru and Kuno had gone home to change into more acceptable exercise clothes.  Ryoga was, of course, still trailing behind Ranma like a new wife.  And Akane...

Ranma spun in a small circle, her arms out in front of her, swinging Akane around enough to make the youngest Tendo’s feet lift slightly and her black patent-leather shoes scuff the ground.  The salarymen and students stared incredulously, but shrugged and smiled at the happy display.

The only dissenting noises came from a pair of Furinkan students, who were obviously thinking that Ranma did other, more private things to Akane to make her giggle.

“You know what’s the best thing about being a girl?!” she cried out over Akane’s laughter.

“No... what?!”

“Being able to show when I’m this happy!” Ranma announced, depositing her friend back onto the sidewalk.

Akane, still dizzy from being spun, twirled in a brief circle before allowing her knees to give out and sitting down rather abruptly on the sidewalk. 

“This has just been the best day!” Ranma exclaimed.  “And I needed a good one.”

“Planning on pinning that 92% on the refridgerator?” Akane queried.  Abruptly the grin dropped off her features.  “But you’re going to Tofu-sensei’s...”

Ranma instinctively turned to Ryoga, who was not really looking at her – just focusing on the movement of her feet.  “Uh... yeah.”  Her face fell.  “B-but... maybe you can take the test with you.”  Her voice was small, and uncertain.  “Just so Tendo-san and Kasumi can see.”

“No problem.  I’ll make sure the whole world knows, if you want!”  Akane’s good mood was back, full-force.  “RANMA’S A GENIUS!!!” she announced to the street.  “MY BEAUTIFUL FIANCEE IS THE NEXT EINSTEIN!!! SHE mmgph!!!”

Ranma had slapped her hand across Akane’s lips.  “What’s gotten into you?” she demanded.

Akane glared at Ranma; then she slowly and deliberately licked the redhead’s hand.

“Ewww!” Ranma exclaimed, rapidly wiping it off against her black pants. 

Ryoga was staring at the two of them, his features blank with surprise.  Apparently he hadn’t heard about their ‘engagement’.

“That’s what you get,” Akane announced coolly.  “And as for what’s gotten into me, I think I’ve just finally decided that I don’t care what all those dummies at Furinkan think, that’s all.  I mean, for the longest time, I came to school every day without being able to eat breakfast.  Do you know how cranky I get when I don’t get breakfast?”

Ranma chuckled softly to herself.  With the mob assult team every morning, Akane must have been too nervous and hyped up to eat.

“And now... they can take their bokkens and... and shove them where the sun don’t shine!!!” she announced triumphantly.  “And they can take their comments, and eat them!”

“Uh huh,” Ranma said, in the tone of a patient soul simply humoring the insane.

“I mean, it’s not like anything I say or do will change how anyone feels,” Akane said determinedly.  “So why should I step so lightly?  I need to be more like you, Ranma.  I need to be myself!”

Ranma stared at her.  “Like me,” she repeated.

“Exactly,” Akane said.  “I mean, I could kiss you in the street and no one would think any different than they always have.  In fact, I will kiss you!”

And she did.

The kiss wasn’t long, or particularly involved.  Akane pressed her lips to Ranma’s for what might have been three or four seconds – not long, but not short, either.  “I’m going to go home to get ready for practice!” she announced, and ran ahead.

Ryoga twitched.

“She kissed me!”

“I caught that!  Just what the hell is wrong with you people?!” he demanded.  “Didn’t you notice that was a girl?!”

“Oi, shut up, Ryoga,” Ranma said absently, still a sunset shade of pink.  “It’s not like she meant anything by it.”

“Are you still a guy or something?”

She spun to face him.  “What?!”

“You heard me.  Have you been a boy so long that you think you are one?”

She thought this over.  It was an odd question, but a worthy one, and she felt the need to answer him honestly.  “Well, for all intents and purposes, I am.  My father acted like I was a guy.  He put a lot of emphasis on becoming a real man, a man among men.  Last month, that was my world.”

“You mean you’d been pretending up until a month ago?” Ryoga stammered.

“Acting like a guy as much as possible anyway.”  Ranma grimaced, hefting her bosoms.  “But then these showed up, and that’s been impossible ever since.”  She noted the stare Ryoga was giving her and blushed, protectively crossing her arms over her chest.  Pretty good, Saotome, she thought to herself.  You’re getting almost as talented at skirting the truth as your old man. 

“So...” Ryoga managed, finally getting his blush under control.  “You’ve only been accepting your lot as a girl since you’ve been in Nerima.”

“That’s right,” she replied.

“You should still know that you can’t just go around kissing girls!”

“Hey, she kissed me, not the other way around!” Ranma defended.  “Besides, who wrote that rule?”

“It’s not written, it’s understood – by anyone not a cross-dressing freak like you.”  Ryoga slid into an open stance and raised his fists to the redhead.

Ranma deliberately remained casual, both in tone and in posture.  “Uh... you ain’t gonna fight me just because a girl kissed me, are you?”

He grimaced, showing a bit of fang.  “Feh.  I’m going to fight you because that’s what I came here to do.  I’ve seen your kind before, Ranma.  You sorely need to be taken down a notch.” 

“You were unconscious before yesterday,” she chided.  “If you think I’m going to fight you, you’ve got another thing coming.”  Ranma took a small step back; Ryoga was trying to get in her face, to make her angry.

“Then you should learn to control yourself!” Ryoga shot back.  “Maybe then I wouldn’t find myself in such a situation so soon after my debilitation.  Akane should be with a man, not some deluded little girl.”

Despite her ire, Ranma couldn’t help but think that, if she’d been in Ryoga’s situation, she’d have said much the same thing.  She cast about for some kind of argument to convince him to stand down.  “Look at you!  Fighting over a girl, with a girl!  Some martial artist!”

“You’re no girl,” Ryoga bit off.

Ranma’s fists clenched, and she trembled with fury as she recalled Yoreko and the taunts of the other boys in the gym.  “You... you...”  There just wasn’t a word strong enough for him.  “Idiot!!!  Fool!!!  Wrongheaded jackass!”

“You are cute when you’re angry.”

“DIE!” she replied, rushing the other boy.

Ryoga side-stepped her, reaching out to punch her in the stomach.

Ranma doubled over, but used the opportunity to thrash Ryoga soundly, kicking him in the shins three times, then shoving him away from her.

Ranma could barely believe her eyes.  Ryoga appeared undamaged; he didn’t even have any red markings where she’d hit him.  “Kachuu Tenshin Amaguriken!” she announced, and proceeded to hit him as fast as she could.  The redhead frowned; she was still not half as fast as the purple-haired girl who’d originally introduced her to the technique.

The Lost Boy was taken by surprise.  The rapid-fire strikes hit him, and he staggered back.  Once again, however, he was barely breathing heavily.

Meanwhile, a crowd had begun gathering around the redhead, observing the battle and making appropriate comments – ‘he’s unstoppable!’ – ‘did you see that technique?!’

“Let’s take this where there’s no innocent bystanders!” Ryoga demanded, leaping up onto the nearest roof.

Ranma leapt.  She was far quicker and more agile than her opponent, and she used that to her best advantage.  She wove around the slower, heavier martial artist’s attacks, getting a hit in only when she could manage it without striking his injury. 

Ranma felt remarkably level-headed, not the way she usually felt when she fought.  Rather than filled with adrenaline, she felt filled with irritation, and something else – an impulse she didn’t recognize, the impulse to be very circuspect about this battle.

Why did Ryoga want to fight her, anyway?  Her eyes narrowed.  Had he been planning on picking a fight with her?  Was this some kind of pseudo-macho nonsense that she didn’t understand?

Ranma shook that thought out of her skull.  Ryoga’s right.  Something’s happened to me.  Have I forgotten who I am – or is this just me minus pops? 

Ryoga leapt for the next rooftop, retreating, buying himself time – a leap that Ranma could tell, could see, instinctively, wasn’t going to quite make it to the other side.

She forgot to breathe.

Ryoga slipped one of his bandannas from around his hair and lashed out with a whiplike motion.  The mustard-colored cloth snapped out, wrapping securely around the roof’s drainpipe.  Ryoga’s sweat-slick hands slipped against the cloth before slowly sliding to a stop.  There he swung, dangling twenty feet from the ground.

Ranma jumped down to the ground only to leap straight up, scoop him in her arms and deposit him on the rooftop.  “Idiot!” she announced.  She didn’t know what to do.  How did you talk a martial artist out of fighting?  That was practically Ryoga’s calling, his job.  And yet, this foolish scuffle over nothing seemed incredibly wrong to the redhead.

Suddenly she thought she understood how Akane must’ve felt, breaking Kuno’s arms – the futility of it, the pointlessness.  The pain for nothing.  Watching Ryoga fight her tooth and nail for a perceived and empty insult did something to Ranma.

“STOP!” she shouted.  “STOP THIS, YOU JERK!”

Ryoga said nothing to her, only stared.

“I SAID,” Ranma began fiercely, a cold wind rising around her, “STOP!!!”

Ryoga staggered to his feet, with an intense but otherwise unreadable expression painted across his features.  “T-that’s three times you’ve saved me... n-never mind I could have saved myself, there...”

“And rip open the wound that just finally managed to close,” Ranma supplied.  The cool logic was leaving her, and anger was rushing in to take its place.  “Do you realize that doc Tofu and I were wracking our brains to come up with the right way to heal that?  And now you’re expecting me to undo everything I did.  That’s really, really stupid and I ain’t gonna do it.”  She crossed her arms under her bosom and glared.  “What the hell is it with you, anyway?  You got some kind of death wish?”

Ryoga glared at her.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Ranma said angrily, tapping Ryoga on the chest with an open palm, making him stumble backward before her.  “All this wandering around, all this fighting for no reason – it has nothing to do with me!”

“Yes it does –”

“Listen, buddy, if you don’t have any respect for yourself, at least have some respect for what the doc and I were trying to do!  Even Akane would be hurt if something happened to you.  When you hurt yourself, you hurt others – those few who give a damn.”

“Nobody gives a crap about me –”

“Bullshit!” Ranma announced, advancing as he retreated.  “What about your folks, huh?  The way I recall, your parents had the same problem with direction as you do.  Do you think that means they don’t wonder about you?  I’ll bet they do.  When I saw you lying under that bush, I was worried about you.  We all were, me and the Tendo girls.  Now I think about it, I spent a lot of my time in junior high worried about you in one way or another.”

“Shut up, Ranma!  You don’t know...”

“No!  You’ll listen to this, Ryoga, if I have to sit on you!”  Her blue eyes flashed.  “What’s wrong with you?  Don’t you understand I’m trying to help you?”

“And what if I don’t want to be helped?”

She drew up short, suddenly noticing that she had pushed Ryoga to stand at the edge of the roof.  His eyes were dark and blank, nothing behind them, not even despair.  She found herself recalling the desolate emotions that she had seen within the vortex of his chi, the true helplessness.  Had even those feelings escaped for good?  Was all that was left this anger and emptiness?  Ranma closed her eyes, seeing flashing emerald lights and choking darkness behind her closed lids.  “You have no choice,” she said, her voice soft but matter-of-fact.  “If you won’t accept help, you’ll become a monster, according to Shampoo.”

“Certainly, let’s believe the Chinese killing machine sent from the mainland to murder me.”

Ranma noted that his voice had finally fallen from a shout.  She had the sudden and powerful impulse to comfort him in some way as well as reward him for his tiny step towards normalcy.  Was this how Akane felt about her?  She hoped not, because the feelings she had for Ryoga vacillated between compassion and exasperation.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he ordered, turning away from her.  “I don’t need your pity.”

“But you need my help,” she reiterated.

“I understand that –”

“Then show some sense and accept it!  Why do you have to keep picking a fight with me anyway?”

Ryoga exhaled noisily and sat, as though all his fighting spirit had suddenly drained away.  “I don’t know.”

Ranma frowned, crouching across from him.  “Well, that’s a problem, Hibiki.  If we don’t understand our mistakes, we tend to repeat them.”

“You’re confusing...”

“Me?  I’m confusing?”

Ryoga bobbed his head solemnly.  “Never been able to understand how you tick.  It irritates me.”

“Well, that’s an answer, anyway.  Ask me, then.  Ask me anything.”

Ryoga stared at her for a long time, his eyes searching hers.  “Fine,” he said, his voice rough and challenging.  “Why did you walk me to school every morning?”

It wasn’t the kind of question that Ranma had expected.  “Huh?  I don’t know,” she replied.

“That’s a shame,” he responded mockingly.  “If we don’t understand our mistakes...”

“That wasn’t a mistake!”  The redhead’s blue eyes flashed as she knelt, relieving the pressure on the back of her legs.  Her adrenaline was singing through her now, as though on lag from the battle.  “Maybe you won’t like the answer, but I felt sorry for you.”

“If you felt so sorry, why’d you torment me?”

“Torment?” Ranma echoed.

Ryoga tossed his hair and glared down at her.  “Don’t play dumb.  Why’d you steal the bread, and...and Saoko.”

“I see, so Saoko comes second to sandwiches,” she murmured, a wry smile playing about her lips.

“See?!  Stop it, stop!!!  Stop twisting my words around and actually answer me!  You always do this, every conversation we have!  You’re not going to get around me this time, though.  I need to understand why you keep doing this to me.”

“Okay.  Okay,” she said.  “All right.  Saoko just liked me; there was nothing I could do about that.  She liked anyone who smiled at her.  She would’ve liked you, if you’d ever just asked her out.”  Ranma shrugged.  “As far as the bread... I was hungry.”

“Hungry enough to steal from me?  It’s always been all-or-nothing with you.  You always have to prove you’re the best.”

She gulped, examining the rough shingles of the roof under her feet with great interest.  “Point is, I’m not that way anymore.  I’m trying to help you, and that’s all.  I don’t care about being the best anymore, man, and if you were smart, you wouldn’t care about it, either.”

“If the art is all I have...”

Ranma examined him carefully – his expression, his arm, relaxed as it rested upon his knee.  He really was being honest with her.  “I know what you mean,” she replied after a small pause.  “I’ve felt like that.”

“Just one more question,” Ryoga told her, “and then I’ll go back to the doc’s without a fight.  It’s... well, it’s the most important one.”

“Spit it out, Ryoga, I can take it.”  Ranma’s eyebrows were raised, wondering what the bandanna’d martial artist could possibly think was so vital.

“Was that you at Jusenkyo?”

Ranma’s eyes widened.  “W-what?”

“There was a redheaded girl at Jusenkyo.  I saw her.  I... I stared at her for the longest time, because she looked so familiar; but I couldn’t place her.  I supposed that I must have seen her at some time during my travels.  There was a man she was chasing, older and kind of scruffy-looking.  Was that you?”

She stared at him.  “Are you cursed?”  Ranma probed him with her eyes, as if she could tell by looking.  She felt strange, and kind of dizzy, a loss of focus – almost as if she was viewing something from a distance at the same time as it stood right before her.

Ryoga returned her pondering gaze evenly.  “Are you?”


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Author’s Notes:  PLEASE READ, IMPORTANT


*^*^*^*--This is the second-to-last chapter in this arc.  After that, the story will be posted under another name: Juketsuzoku Fu.--*^*^*^*

As for this particular chapter... things were going uber-slow.  I remained on page 28 for literally three days as I worked my way through the entire thing, cutting some bits, adding others, and tightening the story overall.  That was frustrating!  >:o    During the beginning it was very slow, too.  Poor Hikaru got another one of his important scenes cut, but it’s okay because it will give him more screen-time later on. 

Thanks so much for reading!  As always, critique and comments are appreciated, especially specific critique.