Chapter Text
Ranma was outraged. “You really think I’m that kind of guy?”
“If you aren’t,” Akane demanded, “why did you kiss me?”
He didn’t need this. He’d just been beaten up in a series of surprise attacks by Ryōga, Kunō, and even that Gosunkugi creep. And he had a totally good reason, too! It was, “because… well….”
Akane’s expression went from boiling mad to coldly distant. “You don’t remember, do you?”
Okay, so he didn’t.
It wasn’t his fault that cats made him black out! It was his old man’s fault, and the cats, and even Gosunkugi because he’d orchestrated the whole thing under the stage.
He’d remind her of that, and that would be all! Because he was totally in the right, so he’d tell her, “now, listen—”
Akane jumped right in his face, growling out, “Ranma, I—”
Something wet bumped against his hand and went, “buhi?”
Akane stopped, and so did Ranma, albeit for a different reason as they both looked down at the source of the familiar noise.
Ryōga hadn’t had enough, huh? There he was, sitting under Tōfū-sensei’s patient table, looking just as lost and confused as ever. Even weirder, it almost felt like the jerk had licked him. Did he think that grossing Ranma out was a normal response to the whole ‘kiss’ misunderstanding? He knew Ryōga was easily disoriented, but that was a lot.
He’d even lost his stupid little bandanna, but Ranma had been assaulted by the piglet enough times to recognize him in his cursed form that Akane called, “P-chan! What are you doing here?”
She ducked down to scoop the little pervert up. One of these days, Ranma was going to really let him have it for using his pig form to snuggle close to his fiancée. Sure, she was an uncute violent tomboy, but that didn’t make it right.
And he knew better than most guys what it was like to have a guy touching you like that, too.
He met Ryōga’s beady little piggy eyes with a glare that dared him to try something more.
But Ryōga just blinked at him, and tilted his head to the side like the lost little piggie he pretended to be. That was weird.
Weirder still, as Akane started to pick him up, he struggled a bit in her arms. “Oh, the poor little guy must be confused, being out somewhere unfamiliar.”
His natural state of being, Ranma thought.
Akane gently scritched Ryōga behind the ears, cooing softly, “there, there. It’s okay, good boy. You’re safe with Mommy.”
That did the trick. The little weirdo who was sometimes a bigger weirdo seemed to melt into Akane’s arms, after briefly startling. Who knew what was going through his head? Sometimes Ryōga was as hard to understand as any random girl.
“Don’t think I’m not still mad at you, Ranma,” Akane said as she turned away from him. “Honestly, sometimes I can’t tell if you’re such a jerk because you’re really just like all the other boys, or if you’re such a coward that you should stop calling yourself a man and stick with your cursed form.”
Ryōga let out another oddly surprised-sounding squeal as Akane exited Tōfū’s clinic, and Ranma honestly felt like imitating him.
“What the hell’s her problem?” Ranma wondered, as Tōfū-sensei himself returned to treat his injuries.
Chuckling, the kindly yet skillful doctor—Ranma hadn’t forgotten how the man was able to conceal his presence and sneak up on him, watching those well-practiced hands that could just as easily do harm as heal, as Tōfū said, “sounds like a bit of gender trouble. I’m sure you’re used to that yourself, at this point.”
There was a word in there that Ranma didn’t understand in context; Tōfū pronounced the word as ‘seibetsu’, which meant, “consecration? What’s that got to do with anything?”
Behind his glasses, Tōfū stared at Ranma, before letting out another little laugh. “No, Ranma-kun, ‘seibetsu’ as in… whether you’re a man, a woman, or something else.”
“I only got the two forms, Doc. Unless there’s some other kind of trick to the curse when I’m hit with water in the midst of a phase transition, or somethin’.”
Tōfū stopped what he was doing, and asked, “Ranma, you know the term ‘phase transition’, but you don’t know what gender is?”
He hated feeling stupid like this. “My education’s been screwy cuz of the training journey, alright?”
“I suppose that’s my fault for assuming,” Tōfū sighed, frowning as he returned to treating the numerous minor injuries Ranma had sustained. “Put simply, gender is how we describe the condition of being male, female, or other. Society at large ascribes a variety of different roles and expectations based on the perception of gender—for example, someone who has given birth and considers herself a woman might still be treated as a man because of how she dresses, wears her hair, and speaks. All of those are aspects of gender; her status as someone who has given birth and is in the family registry as female is her assigned sex.”
“Like how I change from a guy to a girl,” Ranma observed.
“That’s right,” Tōfū said, and pointed a finger at Ranma’s head. “But what’s in here, your idea of yourself as a boy or a man, is what we call your ‘gender identity’. In my example, the woman has a gender identity that matches her assigned sex. But in your cursed form, you don’t experience that, much like a certain percentage of the population who we call ‘transgender’.”
He hadn’t thought of that possibility. Sure, he’d seen guys who dressed like girls, or heard that people he thought were men or women were actually the other way around. But he’d never considered the possibility that, “you mean people can be, yanno, born like this? I mean, like I am when I’m soaked with cold water?”
“Yes, and as you might imagine, it can be very distressing. I’ve had some patients who experience that, and like the woman in my example, they can encounter many problems in life because of their socially perceived gender,” Tōfū continued, testing the flexion of some of Ranma’s joints. “When you are in your cursed form, your gender identity is still male, but people perceive and assume an assigned sex of female.”
“Huh. So, is there a name for that feeling I get about how much it sucks to not be recognized as a guy?” Ranma wondered, not paying any attention to the nagging little feeling that reminded him how much it felt like when he looked in the mirror at his guy form, sometimes. Or some of the time when his old man talked about how manly he was, even when he was saying it as a positive instead of complaining.
“That’s called ‘gender dysphoria’,” the doctor replied, and as Ranma silently echoed the words, he gave a gentle pat on the young martial artist’s shoulder and an assurance of, “nothing to worry about long-term, Ranma-kun. Make sure to take a good long soak in the furo tonight, and get plenty of rest, and you should be fine.”
Ranma nodded, and gave the most respectful bow he managed on the regular, which was, admittedly, any kind of bow. “Thanks, Doc. And thanks for the, yanno, the lesson.”
“It’s no problem, Ranma-kun,” Tōfū laughed as he guided Ranma out. “Now, it’s fairly late. I should be locking up, and you should get home.”
He was already two blocks away when he realized that he hadn’t actually found out what Tōfū meant by gender trouble.
Well, whatever. It probably wasn’t important.
Unless…
Ranma considered the possibilities as he walked back to the Tendō home.
He knew Akane was female. Against his will, he’d gotten as good a look at her as he had had at his own cursed form. So, that would be her assigned sex, right?
And she considered herself a girl, she was pretty clear about that. Which meant that was her gender identity.
But it was the social standard that girls didn’t get into big martial arts brawls, or beat people up for misunderstandings that totally weren’t his fault. And girls were expected to be good at cooking, sewing, and other stuff that Akane totally sucked at. Stuff that he was actually pretty decent with cuz his old man expected him to do everything his bald old ass was too lazy to do for himself.
So, that meant that Akane was experiencing some kinda gender dysphoria, right? Since she saw herself as a girl, but the way things were, she had trouble with making sure that was recognized, or something.
…Honestly, what kinda father makes his nine-year-old son learn sewing and cooking? His hands weren’t even big enough to lift the camp pot, but noooo the old fart insisted that ‘everything is training’ and made him learn it, anyway! Jeez, it was a good thing that he’d learned something hanging around with Ucchan…
Which was another thing! Ucchan and his dad had both cooked, but the old jerk always gave Ranma a hard time when he actually started to enjoy cooking, telling him it wasn’t manly to put the little flourishes on stuff, to pay attention to spices or presentation. Not that it was appreciated anyway, with how the old jerk ate most of it and barely left any for him. And even then, he still lectured Ranma about not being unmanly.
Which hurt, because he was a guy, obviously! And sometimes it just hurt because, well, who even knows?
…Right, he’d been thinking about Akane, not his stupid pop. Where was he?
“Welcome home, Ranma-kun,” Kasumi greeted.
Back at the house, apparently. Ranma shook himself out of his own head, and said, “hey, Kasumi-san. Is the furo ready? Tōfū-sensei recommended a long soak.”
“Yes, if you don’t mind being the last one to use it,” she said with her usual gentle expression, before it quirked oddly. “Oh, and do keep an eye out for P-chan, won’t you? Akane says he’s acting so strangely.”
Huh. Well, Ryōga was a strange guy, that was for sure. Directionless rageaholic who blamed him for being dragged off after waiting days in a lot around the block from Ryōga’s own house, and then blamed him for Ryōga getting cursed too when he chased him to China, even had the nerve to talk like he was jealous of Ranma’s curse!
Which had been, well, kinda validating and nice to hear, since it meant… that he didn’t have it as bad as he could, right. Not that it wasn’t still a problem.
Ranma realized he’d managed to get undressed and into the bathroom while too deep in his own thoughts again, and grumbled. This was why he didn’t like to think too deeply, he always focused too much and lost sight of what was around him.
He picked up the showerhead and gave himself a spray to start scrubbing down, making a point to be gentle with the tender bits as his body turned softer. At least he hadn’t needed a bunch of bandages or anything that would get in the way of a good soak, though there were a few spots where the soap kinda stung.
Not that he couldn’t take it, of course.
Something let out a little, “shiku!”
Ranma turned around to see Ryōga sitting there on the tiled floor, staring at him. The piglet looked weirdly contemplative, taking in everything before him as he sniffed up a droplet of snot.
Gross.
“Getting a good show, pervert?” Ranma asked, covering his chest and gesturing with the showerhead as he asked, “what, peeping on Akane ain’t enough for you? Honestly, if I didn’t blame myself for your stupid curse, Ryōga, I’d….”
That was weird. Ryōga was shaking his little piggie head back and forth wildly, making noises of protest.
From somewhere outside, Ranma heard Akane calling, “Ranma? Is P-chan in there with you?”
He blinked, and called out, “uh, yeah?”
More frenzied head-shaking. Ryōga got to his feet—or, well, his hooves—and started trotting over to the furo.
“You’re in girl mode, right?” Akane asked through the door, and that put the weirdest little thrill through Ranma’s brain. It had happened before, and he usually ignored it, but, “I’m just going to come in and get him, so don’t do anything gross like turning yourself back into a boy!”
He was just about to say that obviously he wouldn’t do that, when he realized something.
Akane was coming into the bathroom.
And ‘P-chan’ was climbing up to the furo, ready to dip into the hot water.
He had to….
What did he have to do, anyway? Ryōga was being especially jerkish and weird! And he’d abused Akane’s trust, and Ranma’s promise! He could just say that he was too startled to do anything, and let it happen.
“There you are, P-chan,” Akane said as she came in. Arms still covering his chest and other bits, Ranma turned to watch the disaster unfold as Akane stepped through the door, both of them looking right at P-chan as he dove into the hot water, and….
“Aiyaa!”
The form that rose up out of the hot water of the bath was definitely not Ryōga. Ranma had seen what Ryōga’s body looked like without clothes. Sure, it was more buff than he remembered from changing for gym class, but he totally hadn’t let his eyes linger or nothing back then.
Either way! He was positive Ryōga didn’t have breasts, or long purple-ish blue hair, or eyes the color of sweet azuki bean paste….
“SHAMPOO?” Ranma and Akane shrieked simultaneously, scrambling backwards.
“But, but, but!” Ranma began, babbling and pointing wildly.
“She was a pig! Just like P-chan!” Akane agreed, for once not blaming him for this.
“Yes, am Shān Pū,” the warrior woman replied, rising out of the bath and coming over to him, looking close as Akane shrank back. “And Ranma is no girl.”
Weird.
Why did that seem to hurt more than the sound of Akane screaming at the top of her lungs right next to him?