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Chapter Text

[AKANE]

“Oh! My son is looking so manly and handsome.  Don’t you agree, Akane-chan?”

My cheeks blushed hotly, and I felt trapped, caught in the sweet, motherly face of one Nodoka Saotome.  Out of the mouth of any other proud mother, it would just be a casual boasting statement, right?  No such luck for me and Ranma.  Honestly, I love my auntie, quite dearly, but that woman has serious mental health issues!  As in, she once believed that if she ever found her son anything less than a “man among men”, then she was honor bound to assist and insist he commit ritual suicide.  She doesn't hold those views as tightly as she once did...but sometimes I worry.

So, this charmingly phrased, potentially sepukku-inciting, request to confirm her son’s attractive manliness was hanging over my head.  This isn’t something I can automatically deny, the way I would defensively if said by our matchmaking dads.  I can’t even politely avoid answering or give a wishy-washy response, like I would with my school friends.  This could be a life-or-death question for Ranma!  

My eyes drifted to Ranma’s face, which lost color for a split second, his normally confident ego draining away as he awaited my response.

I partially covered my mouth with my wrist, in a vain attempt to conceal my embarrassment.  My long yukata sleeve elegantly shielded my increasingly warm face.  I tried my best to respond confidently to Auntie, all while praying that this wouldn’t incite another wedding attempt by my father.  A firm, but quiet “Yes,” came out.

Could any more blood rush to my face?  It felt like my ears and cheeks could roast chestnuts.  And to top it all off...it’s not actually a lie.  Not even an exaggeration.

Ranma, who was already at a handsome height, grew a bit more this summer to even surpass my dad.  But instead of getting gangly or temporarily awkward like most adolescents in a growth spurt, it only seemed to help his broad shoulders expand and musculature develop.  I guess it's only natural that now, at age 18, he's lost any look of a boy and truly looks like a man.

So on this muggy summer day, the dark navy and white striped yukata fit Ranma's strapping frame in a perfect image of male vitality.  The v-shaped dip where fabric met flesh teased at the perfectly toned pecs underneath.

Ranma’s embarrassed, yet smirking, expression seemed to see right through me.

Not surprisingly, his ego bounced back into the atmosphere.  “So, even you think I’m manly and handsome, huh?”

My elbow met his side and he lost his breath. 

“Jerk,” I muttered, but I was already over most of my annoyance, my tone half exasperated, half amused.

He rubbed his newly bruised side, and quipped “Tomboy”, but his tone was similar to my own.  Not long ago I would have taken the remark at face value.  Our insults now...well, they were almost terms of endearment. 

Nodoka turned her attention back to her son.  “Don't you think Akane looks lovely?” she stared sweetly at Ranma, but also with pointed anticipation of a sincere response.

Ha! I nearly crowed aloud.  Turnabout was fair play!

[RANMA]

“I said, don't you think Akane looks lovely, Ranma?”  Ma repeated herself, looking at me with a bright smile and intense expectations.

My earlier victory felt like lead in my gut.  Akane's mouth twitched into a playful smirk as she awaited my response. Now I was the one under pressure.  It's so hard to know what to say around my mother.  What's the manly response? 

And dammit, now I can't help but stare at Akane and take in how beautiful she is.

The cerulean blue of her kimono is the ideal backdrop to her creamy complexion, with the orange koi print highlighting the gold flecks in her amber brown eyes.

Her blue-black raven hair is partly pulled back with a flower hair clip, but when she turns her head a few wayward locks caress her cheek just above her pointed chin, framing the soft contours of her face. My eyes roam over her delicate nose and continue to linger at her full lips.  They are healthy and pink, like rose petals at peak blossom, and I can't help but wonder what they would feel like under my own.

Memory assaults me, and I recall the sight of Akane in a similar blue kimono.  Back then she was possessed by a cursed doll spirit, half undressed, silk layers slipping past her creamy shoulders...ack!  Now I'm being a pervert. Just great.

I forcibly tear my gaze away and look at the ceiling, concentrating on the thin cracks in the paint and the uneven plastering job of multiple DIY repairs.  

My ma is waiting intently for an answer.  With Pop I could make some flippant remark, with the gang from school I could try to deny it, or dismiss Akane's obvious attributes...but all attempts to deny her beauty are refusing to make their way past my lips today.  In private, I have managed to tell Akane she's cute or beautiful, but I've never admitted it to an audience.  Yet after Akane supported my manliness to my mom, I can’t bring myself to be a dishonest asshole in return.

So I clear my throat in an attempt to sound nonchalant.  “Yeah...she looks good.”  Damnit, I can feel my cheeks burning, betraying the forced casualness of my voice.  

My Pop hopped up, ready to celebrate.  “Did you hear that, Tendo?  We’ll have the schools united before nightfall.  You call the priest and ---”

Akane is giving Pop a glare that could freeze lava, and amazingly, Uncle Tendo isn’t looking too happy, either.  Unlike my freeloading Pop, Soun is still paying out of pocket costs for everything the insurance didn't cover for the dojo repairs.  The bombing damage from the last wedding attempt makes a tsunami seem tame.   

Soun gave a heavy sigh.  “You know I will heartily make the arrangements...the moment they finally put their affairs in order.  We both know they aren’t there yet.”

Pop deflated like a burst balloon. 

I knew it would only be a momentary reprieve, (for a lazy panda, the man can be annoyingly persistent), so I quickly grabbed Akane’s hand and pulled her to her feet.  “Hey, uh, we gotta go or we’ll miss our train.  Bye!”

We were hauling ass out the front gate, when my ma -- (how did she move so fast? Damn, I guess I get my amazing skills from both sides of the family tree) -- managed to grab both our elbows firmly.  “I need a few words with Akane-chan first, son.  I won’t keep you long!”

Akane shared an equally puzzled and resigned look, and gave the tiniest shrug of her shoulders.  I stepped a few paces out to give them privacy.  I don’t know what sort of girl-talk was going on, but since Akane doesn’t have a mother, and my ma is making up for lost time without having a kid to raise, I knew to let ‘em be.  Most times it gave me a weird, funny, warm feeling in the gut to see them talking to each other that way.  Not jealousy, like in the early days when my ma didn’t know me from my cursed disguise.  More a sense of wholeness.  Here was my long lost mother and my … my … well, it was Akane .  Fiancee isn’t enough of the right word. 

I couldn’t make out what they were saying, exactly, but I couldn’t help peeking over.  My ma had thrust a small bundle into Akane’s drawstring purse, and Akane’s face was a brilliant shade of red I usually enjoyed causing.  

With that, my ma waved us off.

“What was that about?”  I asked Akane, whose blush had tampered down a bit but flared to life soon as I asked.  

“Nothing to worry about!  Just some, uh, girl stuff.”

“Ohhh.” I said thoughtfully, remembering the times I’ve been stuck in my cursed female body for a very extended amount of time.  “That time of the month?”

Akane looked like she wanted to hit me for so casually mentioning her private business aloud.  Which was pretty ironic given how Akane had calmly helped me out years ago when I was panicking in my cursed body over it.  She thankfully decided to not inflict violence upon me, and found her voice.  Her face was prettily flustered.  “You!  Ugh.  Nevermind.  Let’s not miss the train.”

Chapter Text

[AKANE]

It took me two deep breaths before I felt my embarrassment begin to fade.  There was no way I would ever, ever , tell Ranma what his mother had shoved into my hands.  Needless to say, they were not feminine hygiene products, but there was no point in refuting Ranma’s idea.  It would probably keep him from peeking and asking some very unwanted questions, or worse, getting some very, very different ideas.

At least, I was pretty sure I wasn’t ready for him to have those ideas.  Then again, we almost got married a few months ago.  I was ready to share the rest of my life with him in the most intimate ways, and thought he was, too.  Maybe it was immature of me to have any hang ups over what Auntie gave me.  Internally I sighed, a big contradictory mess of thoughts and emotions.

“Wow, it’s gonna be a huge crowd, huh?”  Ranma’s observation brought me out of my spiraled thinking.  

Despite it being a Saturday, the Nerima train station was as densely packed as peak rush hour.  In the mass of crowded bodies, there was standing room only as conductors quite forcibly moved people into the cars with all the care and grace of a canning factory.  

As the doors swooshed shut my right arm managed to grab one of the few ceiling straps available.  Ranma and I were next to each other in the center, and I felt immensely grateful for the air conditioning.  Even that was reaching its limits in the density of human bodies and summer humidity.  

It would be nearly a half hour ride traveling west from Nerima to Asakusa.

There was a gentle lurch at the next stop, with even more passengers piling on.  We shuffled and squished ourselves tighter in a display of tightly contained chaos, the one time in our society where personal space norms were completely discarded without a thought.

Ranma remained on my right side as we were pressed on all sides by the other passengers.  The train lurched into forward motion and while everyone was focused on maintaining their balance I felt my free hand yanked into contact with warm flesh that was simultaneously soft and stiff.

"Eeek!"

With the crowd of bodies around us, I was practically pinned in place.  As I awkwardly pulled my hand back, I felt another hand forcing my wrist.  

This pervert was about to learn a painful lesson.  I twisted my hand in a fast snap and grabbed at the assailant’s hand. Predator became prey.  I only managed to snatch his fingers, but it was enough as I gave a sharp twist. There was a crunch, and a muffled scream, and the offending hand disappeared. 

The entire exchange was over in milliseconds.  

It was the kind of maneuver Kasumi would have scolded me over, calling me a “violent maniac”, but I am a martial artist at my core.  I definitely fail to fit into the perfect mold of the meek, traditional, never-confrontational, peace-keeping women society wants of me.  It’s partly why perverts on trains are so bold.  Women and girls are so conditioned to not even tell their offenders to stop or point it out while in progress!

I, however, do not tolerate perverts.  Ever.  

The violation was twice as annoying because I had no way of telling which passenger had forced me to touch his junk.  If I had, I would be doing a lot more than mangling his fingers. 

Ranma was just as pinned and squashed in place as I was, but he had noticed my yelp and his eyes immediately found my face in concern.  "What happened?"

" Chikan .”  I whispered back, venom lacing my voice.  “I’ll seriously need to wash this hand a few thousand times."

Ranma’s eyes immediately scanned our cramped surroundings, before making their way back to my face.  It always takes my breath away, the quick transformation that can take hold of Ranma, more complete than his Jusenkyou curse.  All warmth and merriment in Ranma’s eyes vanished, replaced by fierce chips of cold sapphire ready to engage in battle.

When something actually manages to break through his carefree calm and provoke his protectiveness, you better run.  I’ve only seen it a handful of times, and…well, to be honest, it usually seems to involve someone directly harming me.  Like Musk.  Or Saffron.

I felt my chest tighten and my heartbeat accelerate.  Ranma wasn’t much for words.  Okay, that’s sugar coating it.  Honestly?  He’s a complete and utter moron at ever saying kind words or dealing with emotions.  Yet when moments like these happen, I can tell how much he actually does care about me.  Which also meant I needed to reassure him before he made a complete scene and got us banned from train travel.  He may not have been raised by foxes, but being raised by Genma was even worse for his manners.

I gave an exaggerated sigh and forced my voice to be flippant.  "I'm pretty sure I broke his fingers, but I can't tell who it was.  Just forget it."

The fierceness in Ranma’s eyes remained, his jaw tight.  To the outside observer, Ranma looked like a typical passenger.  But to anyone who knew the Art, there was a forced looseness to his stance, a readiness in his posture.  The pulse at his throat was visible and fast.  It was the same deceptive stance he took before a spar, his muscles warmed up and ready to strike faster than you could see.  

It was at the next stop that Ranma moved, as graceful and powerful as a jungle cat.  I’m still not sure how he managed it, perhaps by sheer force of will.   Even regular civilians could sense the tightly coiled defensive aura he was putting out, giving us the minute amount of space available to let us travel through the crowd.

So before the doors were closed again to depart, Ranma had positioned us so that my back was to the sleek surfaces of the corner of the train, and his taller and wider frame faced mine, his strong arms braced against the support pole and back of the train car, his impressive physique an immutable wall of protection.  

My nose was now directly in front of Ranma’s chest, only a hair’s width apart from touching.  My eyes were drawn to the folds of his yukata that had shifted to expose extra flesh, his muscled pecs teasingly peeking out.  My breath caught in my throat.  I know Ranma is attractive, but -- not that I will ever willingly say this aloud to him, ever, oh my can you imagine his exploding ego?! -- he’s also a smokeshow.  There.  I said it.  I’m not blind.  There’s a reason so many women throw themselves at him, and it’s not a honeyed tongue.  

Thanks to frequent exposure of seeing Ranma completely topless -- (get your mind out of the gutter, it’s for reasons usually more comical or him training without a shirt on) -- I can usually force myself to ignore the annoyingly sexy attraction of his chiseled physique.  

Here and now?  Pressed so close together after that display of gallantry?  My face was erupting in a heated blush.  Closing my eyes didn’t help.  My senses were overwhelmed with the blending of sandalwood and the heady, unmistakably male scent that was only Ranma.  

I opened my eyes again.  Ranma had initially been avoiding my eye contact, his head turning to assure himself there weren’t any obvious threats in the vicinity, when he caught my eyes.

A small blush grew on his face in tandem with my own.  We were even more tightly pressed together than that time in the closet with the do-gi.  "Not too squished?" He asked.

I shook my head, not yet trusting my voice.  "Thanks."  I took a deep breath, feeling my confidence grow at Ranma's reddened cheeks.  "I can handle my own safety," I started, "but it's nice to not always be on high alert."

I think Ranma's chest managed to puff out even further.  "You shouldn't have to be.  Hell, no one should." He turned and glared at the backs of several male heads near us, as if judging them all guilty by proximity.

“Yeah. Sometimes it sucks to be a girl.”

"Tell me about it."

I giggled, Ranma's occasional deadpan humor can have excellent timing.

His posture relaxed ever so slightly, joining in on my mirth.

My heart gave a little dance, a flutter completely separate from mere sexual attraction.  

I love him.

The realization wasn’t new, or earth shattering.  It was the culmination of everything my heart knew for a long time, but my head was afraid to put into words most of the time.  

I couldn't, wouldn't say it aloud.  Not yet.  Not when I didn’t fully know where I stood in Ranma’s eyes.  Was I important to him?  Yes.  Did he care about me and my welfare?  Yes.  But did he actually love me?  That was the million dollar question.

I had asked him point blank, just a few months ago at the start of the catastrophic wedding-attempt.  

He denied it.  Or kind of denied it.  We argued.  The details are lost amongst the adrenaline and mayhem of explosions and destruction that followed from our competing suitors. 

Either way, it means I’m guarding my heart as best I can.  Even though I know it’s too late for me, to stop my soul from falling in love with Ranma.  I’m already there.  

Chapter Text

[RANMA]

We arrived at the festival without any more hassles, and the streets were in full swing.  It was the last Saturday of July, and the night was humid and warm, but no longer suffering under the stifling heat of the sun.  The roads were blocked off to allow the full swarm of pedestrian tourists and partygoers.  The air was thick with the tantalizing smells of fried food stalls.

My stomach growled embarrassingly loud.  Akane laughed, her face a picture of youth, beauty, and joy.  My heart clenched.  Akane’s smile.   Damn.  Sometimes it’s like getting hit by lightning.  You’re struck dumb and powerless, and yet you feel energized to take on the world if it means you get to bathe in her glow.  

I’m not a big academic, but I do pay attention more than folks give me credit for.  And now this cheesy line in literature class is going through my head, something about Helen of Troy being “the face that launched a thousand ships.”  I used to think how dumb those Greeks were, causing a huge war over a pretty face.  But when Akane smiles…I get it.  Hell, when I first came to Nerima, Akane was fighting her way through hordes of high school jocks vying for a date.  So yeah…I was too dumb at the time to realize it, but now I do. 

“We better get you fed before finding a spot,” Akane suggests, the merriment in her eyes making it clear she’s not actually annoyed, but amused.  

“Grub’s always a good idea,” I agree.

I was surprised my ma was so insistent that I take Akane to such a crowded event as the Sumidagawa Fireworks Festival, but it is nice getting away from Nerima.  The ward isn’t that small, but it’s small enough that it feels like everyone knows us and pokes their noses into our business all the damn time.  Here, among the literal million person crowd, I’m just a regular guy, out with my girl.

My girl?  

Akane is thumping me on the back now, as I couldn’t help but swallow my takoyaki wrong.  

“You okay?” she asks, her smile gone and full blown concern on her face.  “Chewing is important, you know.  You don’t have to inhale your food.  Uncle Genma isn’t here,” she quips, trying to lighten her concern with a joke.  

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, my throat hoarse from nearly choking.  I am utterly embarrassed that my brain can't manage to think about Akane and chew at the same time.  The possessive thought had sprung on me so naturally, and yet…that's what Akane is, isn’t she?  Mine .  Not that I’d ever directly said as much…oh wait, I did kinda say it once, when that jerk Mikado was trying to kiss Akane at that figuring skating battle!  But I'm getting off track.  The thing is, we haven't directly said anything to each other about whatever to really call our, uh, relationship.  

To think, just a couple months ago Akane had agreed to marry me!  Then again, hadn’t she done that because my cure had been dangled out as the real incentive?  Akane could be way too self sacrificing, so I don’t know.  On the other hand, she had dressed up and smiled so beautifully at home, that the impression I got was that she, well, actually wanted to go through with it.   But when I'd asked her, she had cornered me about my feelings rather than hers.  

My thoughts came to a sudden stop as I noticed Akane was moving quickly, (or at least as quickly as a person could go through a crowded street fair), to a different stall without me.  I felt an urge of irritation.  Why wasn’t she waiting for me?  Wasn’t this a date…uh, well, now that I think about it, we never called it that.  My mom had strong-armed us into going and arranged the whole outing.  Ugh, this line of thinking was going to make me depressed, and that’s Ryoga’s thing, not mine.  

I turned away, pretending to be completely indifferent, when suddenly a warm beverage was thrust into my hand by a familiar pair of petite calloused ones.  

“I know iced lemonade tastes better on a warm night, but I figured we should play it safe with hot tea.”  She’s looking at me with concern, and I feel my heart stutter and restart in a rapid dance.  

At this moment, all I want is to tell her how amazing she is.  This girl who stays up waiting for me with a hot thermos on rainy nights, who has literally lit herself on fire to help me train, who never thinks before rushing to do acts of kindness both big and small.

Instead I croak out “Perfect.”  And I mean it.  Only what I really mean is you’re perfect.

[RANMA]

The sky over the Sumida River was bursting with color.  Trails of light whistled into the night to explode outward like blooming chrysanthemums.  

Akane was giddy next to me, practically bouncing with each surprising display.

“Geeze, you’d think you never saw fireworks before,” I joked, trying my best to hide how impressed I was by the display.   I had to admit, the hype over the Sumidagawa and the competing firework guilds was well earned.

Akane turned and stuck her tongue out at me playfully.  “You’re just pretending to act so cool.  Don’t be an idiot.”

How is it that I can fool loads of people with disguises, and P-chan can continue to fool Akane, but she can always, always see through me?

She gave me a playful smirk, as if she read my mind.  “Remember, you’re really, really bad at bluffing outside of a battle.”

“Yeah, well, a man isn’t supposed to show it if he’s impressed,” I excused, my voice nearly drowned out by the shouts of “ tamaya !” in the air.  In between the loud bursts of rockets, there were the distant calls from public safety officers on the busier sidewalks, their bullhorns continuously issuing polite commands of “Do not stop, move along”.

I was glad we managed to find a spot to stand in Oyokogawa Water Park.  It allowed us a modicum of breathing room, yet still a good view.  It was hardly private, but with the sparkling canals around us, it was enough to feel intimate.

A large boom brought my attention back to the sky.  There was another spectacular display, the fireworks so bright it left after images in my vision.  Then I felt it.  Akane’s hand! Her hand was holding mine.

At that moment I was content.  No, more than content.  My heart was ready to burst like an overripe plum, from just that little contact.  There was an urge, growing deep inside for more, mingled with a dash of nerves.  Pushing for more was being greedy, and was begging for disaster.

My eyes couldn't leave the glow of her face, and how the lights from the sky danced a merry reflection in her dark eyes.

The full, beautiful curve to her lips was half hidden in shadow, coming in and out of focus with each exploding flower in the night.

"What is it?" she asked, mildly alarmed.  

Damnit.  I was caught staring, and now I feel like a total idiot, like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

"Your face…it's…cute when you're happy like this."

Akane’s cheeks grew darker.  It’s not easy to tell in the flickering night, but it’s a blush.  

She turned to look at the sky again, but her hand is still in mine when she speaks.  "It's nice, spending an evening away, a break from everyone who knows us and gossips or is ready to start a fight or kidnap us."

I smile, the anxious knot in my stomach loosens with the confirmation that Akane’s thoughts run similar to mine.  It gives me the courage to make the next move.  A move I’ve wanted to make since the Ryugenzawa valley.  

Her hand is cupped in mine, and I turn it gently to entwine our fingers. I hold my breath.  Akane doesn’t pull away. In fact, she leans in.  Her head is gently leaning against my side.

I fear my heart is going to burst out of my chest.  This date, and there was no fooling myself to deny that was what this was, was real. Was happening.

Akane speaks again, softly, her voice barely audible inbetween the booms.  Luckily I’m watching her lips more closely than the light display, making it easier to understand her words.

"Is this our first real date?" Akane sounds hesitant and shy, which is pretty rare for her.  We are treading new ground, but it’s nice to know she’s as nervous as I am.

"It might be our second, if you count the time with the roses when we made up."

“Hmm,” she replies back, a new found confidence entering her voice as the conversation gets onto firmer ground: friendly banter.  “What about that time at the circus?”

“Maybe.  What about that time helping Ryoga and Akari get together?”

“What about those times getting parfaits at the ice cream shop?”

“Eh.  Maybe.  I was always in my girl form.  What about that time in the cursed caves?”

Akane snorted.  “I’m definitely not counting that one!  I was terrified.  What about that time with your mother’s medicine box?”

I flushed, remembering all too vividly how I thought it was an engagement ring, not a pill box.  “What about that time in the park after the do-gi battle?”

“Hmm.”  Akane tapped the side of her cheek thoughtfully.  “We’ve had a lot of ‘almost-dates’, but I think I’d like to think of this one as the first real one.”

Akane turned her face towards mine.  The moment stretched out, the lights in the sky, the sulfuric smoky air, the quiet gurgling of the water in the canals contrasting with the irregular whistles and bursts from the fireworks.  

I leaned in, my free hand shaking until I firmly brought it under control.  This was a moment years in the making.  Years of mishaps, misunderstandings, and obstacles, of almost-moments ruined at the last second.    

The distance between us closed, not solely by me, but by a mutual communication that required no words. Her lips are softer than I ever imagined, and they touch mine gently and affectionately.  The same girl who breaks bricks with her fists, who is as fierce as she is kind, is surprisingly tender and patient with me. 

Almost immediately, she recoiled shyly.  I stood in shock as I gathered my senses, but it doesn’t take long for my instincts to kick in.  Retreat isn’t an option.  I moved quickly to her, brushing away the small lock of hair that had escaped her flowered barrette.  I lean over her and gently, but firmly, guide her head toward mine.  

Our lips connect once more, deeper, hungrily.  It is in this moment that I truly realize that I am hers and she is mine.  I was meant for this, I was meant for her.  This is the first time that I have ever felt that I truly belong.  I want to grasp and hold this moment for as long as possible, but bodies need oxygen, and Akane shifts to break the contact.  I release and rest my forehead against hers.

Before either of us can speak, I feel a collision at my back and the uncomfortable spread of ice cold liquid seeping through my clothes, into my skin and down my legs, triggering my curse. 

Chapter Text

[AKANE]

“What the HELL?!” Ranma is pissed.  Really pissed.  Me?  Mostly disappointed, with a large helping of not-surprised.  If anything, I’m only surprised his cursed attraction to cold liquids didn’t kick in until now.

A fellow fireworks gawker has bumped into us.  He’s about our age, maybe a bit older, and his large cup of iced lemonade is now all over Ranma’s back and dripping onto the ground.

“I’m so sorry, man--I mean miss.  Wow, it’s pretty dark out.  Let me help clean up.”  Our klutzy stranger sported an obnoxious Hawaian shirt that Principal Kuno would envy.  

Ranma’s large men’s yukata now dwarfs his small, busty, and very female body.  It is comically out of place on him, far worse than when he wears Western attire.

In the hubbub of drying Ranma off, I was lightly bumped by another passing stranger.  I might have easily dismissed it. In the dense crowds for the festival, we’ve been jostled plenty this evening and I was busy helping to sop up sticky lemonade from Ranma’s back.  Still, I am someone trained in the Art, and am more keenly aware of my balance.  The change in weight I was maintaining on my shoulder immediately registered.

“W-what?”  I turned to look, and my eyes grew wide.  I was only holding purse strings, no purse.  Someone had just snipped the straps off my bag.  Oh, hell no.

My head snapped up, and in the glow of an impressive firework display I lucked out.  I saw a stranger in a dark baseball cap walking calmly towards the busy street, and he had just slipped my purse inside his backpack.

“He stole my bag!”  

Ranma looked up in alarm, forgetting the napkins and the overly attentious apologizing stranger.  In fact, the hideously dressed guy was now smirking.

Either way, I did not have time to waste.  I was running towards the thief at full speed.  Which wasn’t my actual top speed because of all the other festival goers. 

We chose this location at the park for many reasons, one of them being so close to the main streets and Honjo-Azumabashi Station.  It now was a disadvantage.  If that creep caught a train before I caught him, I could kiss my bag, my ID, my money, ugh even my set of house keys, all goodbye.

"Coming thru!"

There was a blur of stripes, as a girl in an oversized yukata bounced across trees, street vendor stalls, and the occasional lamppost to make haste.  Actually, it was a pretty brilliant idea, but I wasn’t about to let Ranma do all the work.  I quickly borrowed his moves, taking airily to the various street surfaces in an extreme form of racing parkour.

I had to check my balance a few times, slowing me down in comparison with Ranma, who seemed to race across as effortlessly as on flat ground despite his awkward garments.  I felt the familiar mix of envy blending with admiration as I followed Ranma north.

Our thief was no slouch, either.  He was ducking through alleyways and sidestreets with the ease of an experienced local.

A thicker crowd was passing through, and I was forced to slow down and reassess where to go.  The neon lights of the large 7-11 convenience store loomed ahead.

I cursed under my breath, a very unladylike gesture that would have made Kasumi gasp.

I had lost them.  

[RANMA]

I was glad to have an outlet for my frustration, and channeled it into some acrobatic leaps as I scaled any building and fence I could for some height and tracking advantage.  My brain still felt divided.  Akane and I had..had kissed!  And damn, the feel of her on me.  I sorta imagined kissing would be special, and I’m not one for casual physical affection (despite my reputation), but kissing Akane had been so much more than I dreamed.  And then it had to come to an abrupt end.  Just my fucking luck.  Frankly, I’m starting to think the Jusenkyo pools curse you with way more than shapeshifting.   

A feral grin was growing on my face as I imagined how I was gonna scare the living daylights out of this thief.  My smile slowly started to fade as I realized catching this cutpurse wasn’t going as easily as it would have back in Nerima.  The rooftops on most of the buildings here in Asakusa are either way too high or not in the same path I need to follow the guy.  It wasn’t impossible, but it definitely added an extra challenge in the bustling crowds.  Much more than I was used to in my typical chases.  Huh. I wonder if it's weird that I have 'typical' chases to compare it to?  

Obnoxiously, I hitched up the trailing hem of my yukata for the tenth time.  What a pain.  Just one of the many reasons I usually shy away from traditional attire.  I can get a lot more adjustable elastics and drawstrings to accommodate all my cursed shapeshifting with Western duds. 

I had to pause and scan the crowd again.  There he was!

The thief was already at the train station entrance, passing by the yellow taped off areas of an in-progress expansion and construction site.  

If he thought ducking into a secured, less lit area would help him shake any tails, he was about to be proven wrong.  

"Yo. Creep!"

The guy actually turned around.

Ha!  I love it when perps inadvertently insult themselves.

"You can choose the easy way, or the fun way.  Fun for me that is. Either way, I'm getting my fiancee's purse back."

I admit it. Sometimes I can be a little petty.  And tonight?  Payback was going to be fun.

“Your fiance's purse ?”  The thief was obviously not taking me seriously.  Probably because I was in the body of a petite, busty redhead in oversized clothing.

I cracked my knuckles.  “You deaf or something? Hand it over.  I’m getting it back for her.”

Most of the streetlights were unlit in this area, but there was one defiant, flickering light near the entrance.  It made adjusting to the dark difficult, but at this point my eyes could make out the incredulous look on his face.  I could see him trying to figure out my men’s clothing, my language use, and my obviously female figure.  

He gawked at me.  “You some kind of tranny freak?”

Okay, now that pissed me off.  

“Aggh!!”  That cry was from him, not me.  I had smacked him hard on the nose, faster than the human eye could ever see.  I gotta say, it was well worth all the pain and effort to learn the Roasted Chestnut technique from the old ghoul.

His nose wasn’t broken, I had pulled my punch with pinpoint precision.  Still, it would hurt like hell and enough blood vessels had burst that blood was trickling from his nostrils.  

“What the --?!” he yelled, turning his head rapidly around to look for his attacker.

I tsk-tsked with my tongue and wagged a finger at him in a purposely annoying fashion.  “You need another demonstration?” I asked calmly.  “Or you can just hand over the bag.”

The guy wasn’t too bright.  He wiped clumsily at his bloody nose and waved his hands out awkwardly, as if to ward off some unseen opponent that wasn’t me.

I sighed a big theatrical sigh.  “ I wacked you in the face, moron.”

His eyes were now saucer sized.  “N-no way.  I didn’t see you move.”

I rolled my eyes.  “Fine.  I’ll go slower for your slug brain to understand.”

This guy obviously wasn’t much of a fighter, if any.  I tested out a super slow (by my standards) kick at his legs, sweeping his feet out from under him.

The thief was on the ground looking up at me with the growing realization that he was getting his ass handed to him by a pretty five foot package.

I gave a big theatrical sigh.  "Ugh. You're really pathetic. It wouldn't be fair to pick on you. So just hand it over already."

“You’re nuts.  Fine. Fine.  Here ya go.”  The idiot took off his backpack and reached inside.

I grinned.  This was way too easy.  I guess it’s not too surprising that a guy who uses distraction to steal and run away would be a wimp.

And okay, I’ll admit it…I sometimes am a tad overconfident.  It’s hard not to be, when you’re the best at what you do and you know it.  This punk wasn’t any threat, and even if he pulled a weapon on me, I’m fast enough to evade or knock anything out of his hands.

Which is why I didn’t realize I needed to dodge the small black cylinder he pulled out of his bag.

“AAAAAAAAAAAH!”

I’m not proud, but I screamed.  Have you ever been maced?  In the face?  With your eyes wide open?  Don’t.  Seriously.  It is the worst pain imaginable.  I thought getting kicked in the nuts was bad.  Take that, and multiply it by a few factors because the searing, stinging, brain numbing pain doesn’t peak and then fade.  It grows.  It lingers.  It makes you want to claw your own eyes out of your skull in panic.  

I’ve trained to fight while in pain.  I've trained to fight blindfolded.  I’ve even trained with a swarm of attacking bees.  But none of those had a pain level this intense. 

My eyes were full of tears, even my throat burned, and my nose became a disgusting, dripping faucet.  All I wanted to do was scream as I wiped futility at the chemical irritant.

“Not so high and mighty now, are ya?” crowed the thief.

I was blind, and distracted, but not helpless.  His voice provided the perfect opportunity for me to take a swing.  I felt the connection to his gut, and the tell tale whoosh and wheeze of an opponent who’s had the air knocked out of his lungs.  The thud I heard him make on the ground was especially satisfying. 

Granted, I had actually been aiming for the dude’s face, but a hit is a hit.  

Suddenly I heard a different man’s voice behind me.  

"Yuki!  Are you okay?!"  It took a moment, but I recognized the voice as the overly apologetic Hawaiian shirt guy.

Between wheezing sounds, Yuki answered.  "Freak… hit me."

"Nobody hurts my little bro, c*nt."

I ignored my snot dripping nose and stinging, blinded eyes, and raised my arms in a defensive position while I turned to meet the direction of Ugly-Shirt's voice.

Normally, even blindfolded, that would have been a smooth enough move for me.  But remember what I said about curses and bad luck?  I swear.  If it can go wrong, it does.  Between my oversized clothing pooled at my ankles and the uneven terrain, I tripped on something rubbery.  Too late, my brain registered it was likely an orange safety cone.  One of many demarcating the construction site.  

In the brief heartbeat where I had landed on my knees, I heard the telltale, subtle click of a switchblade unsheathing.  

[AKANE]

“Good grief, where are you now, Ranma?”

I scanned the bustling train station in growing worry, not knowing if I was even in the right general area.  I had a gut feeling I was, but intuition can be wrong.

A scream filled with pain split the air and I whipped my head towards the sound. It seemed to be from the cordoned off construction area.  It might not be Ranma, but either way, it was a girl's voice in trouble!

I wasn't the only one alarmed, because several other people in the crowded train station had paused at the sound.  I took advantage of the crowd's hesitation to press my way forward and past the construction area's yellow caution tape.

I took a fraction of a moment to take in the terrain.  Most of the ground was uneven with gravel, others smooth but labeled with signs of “wet cement”.  Bundles of rebar lay near various orange caution cones.  The nearest streetlamp was on the fritz, its strobe-like flickering a jarring oscillation to my vision.  Even so, I caught the gleam of sharp metal in a man's hand moving towards a kneeling, smaller, female figure.

Instinct kicked in faster than thought.  A leaping kick knocked the blade out of his hand, glittering and spinning across the construction site.  

I suddenly realized that there were two different male figures I was facing; one skinnier guy half collapsed on the ground clutching his stomach with blood dripping down his nose.  On the ground next to him lay a familiar shaped backpack, and a small pile of wallets and handbags spilled from its unzipped contents.  The other man, the one I had just disarmed, was broader, taller, and currently clenching his injured hand, courtesy of my flying kick.  

A small crowd of onlookers was gathering near the lines of caution tape, and I could hear police whistles in the distance.  

The female figure behind me was Ranma, his eyes swollen and shut, his face a mess of tears and mucous.  Even more shockingly, Ranma wasn’t fully on his feet.  “Ranma!  What happened to you?”

[RANMA]

“Akane?” My soprano voice was both surprised and alarmed.  I knew I should have felt relieved, but instead I was a mixture of mortified and worried.  Of course, Akane would have to witness me on my freaking knees in a fight.  My face heated.  “I’m fine!” I bluffed, irked and stung by my wounded pride as much as by the gunk in my eyes.  Still, concern for Akane managed to overcome my embarrassment.  Did she realize these thugs were armed and playing dirty?  

“Watch for the guy with a knife, and the other one has pepper spray,” I warned.  I rubbed furiously at my closed eyelids, redoubling my efforts to clear up my vision.  By the tiniest fraction I could part my eyelids, but the effort was excruciatingly painful.

“What the f*ck is this?” the large man exclaimed.  

“Payback,” I heard Akane answer.

If our situation wasn’t so dire, I would have smirked.  The characters in Akane’s last name can literally be read as “divine justice”, and she will live up to her name.

With distorted, blurry vision I could only partially make out Akane’s moves.  Though nowhere near my speed, Akane charged forward like an angry bull.  I was brought back to the moment years ago when Akane was melee fighting off football and hockey players in full protective gear.  Like then, it took her only a few moves before a man easily twice Akane’s weight was being thrown in the air.  My hearing was still better than my vision.  I heard the telltale pop of a dislocated shoulder and the crack of what was likely a broken clavicle.  I was less certain about the squishy splash sound of his landing, almost like splattered mud.  Wait, wasn't there a wet cement sign nearby?  Now I did allow myself a smirk.  Served the bastard right.

[AKANE]

The thug I threw landed squarely in the center of a curing cement bed.  I prepared myself for him to get up again, but there was no need.  The man wasn’t moving.  

The piercing sound of police whistles was growing louder.  I turned to look where the skinnier thief, Yuki used to be, my stance ready to take him fully out if necessary.  Only he wasn’t there!  I briefly scanned the various tall piles of rebar and gravel in the distorted flashes of the malfunctioning streetlamp.  Most likely, he made his escape as soon as he heard the approaching police whistles.

Ranma was fiercely rubbing his eyes, but otherwise seemed unharmed.  “Are you okay?” I asked, worry lacing my voice.  

Ranma frowned but nodded.  “Nothin’ to worry about.  My vision’s coming back.  Damn, though, pepper spray stings.”

I walked over to the abandoned thief’s backpack and the spilled contents strewn over the uneven ground.

I tsk-ed under my breath.  I wasn’t the only victim this evening.  There was likely a small fortune in stolen wallets and purses.  I moved aside various handbags, dusting them off, while I looked for my own.

“Ranma, you wouldn’t believe how much those jerks have stolen!”  I called out.  I was getting frustrated at not finding my own bag.  I was bent over rifling through the various items, doing my best to make them out in the headache-inducing strobe lighting.  

Finally, I found my prize.  My bag!  

[RANMA]

There are times when the adrenaline rush is at its peak, and a fight is so sweet and fluid, that time slows down.  I can read my opponent’s moves with ease, and it feels like everyone else is a statue to my blazing speed.  It’s a high that’s hard to describe.

There’s also a dark opposite to this.  When the adrenaline is surging due to panic and danger, it’s not merely your opponents that seem to move in slow motion: it’s you.  Your limbs seem stuck in molasses.  Your voice is strangled in your throat, and you’re powerless, watching as you reach too slow, too late, too far away to stop the coming blow.

My eyes were burning, involuntary tears streaming from the mace, and my vision returned blurred and distorted.  I was still on my knees.  I channeled every ounce of willpower into getting to my feet, fighting against my body’s natural reaction to stay down amid the blinding, nerve-searing pain.

Time became an illusion, distorted and drawn as an almost sixth sense of danger flooded my veins.  At least 6 meters away, out of the shadows there was a slither of motion. 

And in horrible, blurry, slowness I saw what was possibly a male figure stoop and pick something that glinted on the uneven ground, angled away and hidden from Akane's line of sight but clear enough for me to make out.

A garbled sound escaped my throat: a warning cry, a curse, a rage against reality rolled into one.

My watering, stinging eyes caught the fragmented scene: the movement of metal, swung in a jerkish arc.  Akane, just rising with her hands full of her cherished bag, triumph turning to terror as she too, realized the threat too late.

There was a sickening slash, and red. 

Chapter Text

[RANMA]

No nononono.

I was in a stumbling race towards Akane.

My own pain and blurry vision were nothing. I was ready to murder the punk that had hurt Akane.

My heart felt like it was lodged in my throat, but Akane wasn't down. She didn't seem to register her injury. Instead, her face was scrunched in a valkyrie's fury. Her assailant thought he had the advantage, likely never imagining this girl to have such a recovery, or any recovery at all, from his blow.

He never got the opportunity to recognize his fate.

Before I could reach him, and at a speed nearing my Roasting Chestnuts' technique, Akane ducked and then came up hard in a jaw shattering uppercut.

The sharp crack of broken bone met my ears. From the sound alone, I could guess this was one of those times Akane did not pull her punch. Her assailant went airborne, before landing several feet away. Even my distorted vision could see he was unconscious before his body hit the pavement.

It meant I could safely ignore him, and instead focus on the frightening spread of dark red on Akane's torn yukata, seeping from the slash at her leg

The sharp edged rebar had been as effective as a sword blade.

Adrenaline had done its job, but now Akane was looking pale.

Blood wasn't just seeping into her clothing, but dripping onto the pavement. I couldn't see the full extent of Akane's injury, the crimson mess was sickening, but by the rough placement, it could have hit…no.

I felt the stirrings of a sensation I wasn't accustomed to: panic.

[AKANE]

I was breathing hard, filled with fury, and not just at the punk who attacked me. I was mad at myself. I used to take on hordes of stupidly crazed jocks attacking me daily without so much as a scratch. But I had underestimated an opponent, thinking he had fled. As it was, I had dodged his initial aim but still had been hit. Stupid! Ugh, the worst part was knowing that Ranma would probably bicker with me over this, too. I had planned to chide him about being overconfident, given the state of his eyes, and now this happens. Pot, meet kettle. What a pair we make.

I took a moment to glance at the creep's crumpled body, several feet away. I probably overdid it with my final blow. The kind I reserve for Kuno only after a very, very bad day.

The pain in my leg was suddenly hitting me, and all at once the world became a jumble of chaos. The police whistles I had been vaguely aware of now were more than reality, as two different police officers were now on the scene barking orders for the crowd of rubberneckers to give way. Ranma was at my side, his eyes bloodshot, swollen, and only half open but intently staring at the dripping pool of blood growing at my feet. Wait. Blood? Was that mine?

Seeing it made me suddenly nauseous.

"Lie down!" Ranma barked at me through the higher pitch of his soprano female-voice.

"What?" I asked, feeling disoriented.

Before I could move, his slender arms had swept me up, and put me gently to sit on the ground in a smooth motion, moving my torn yukata folds apart to inspect my leg.

Instinct made me want to bat his hands away. Shouldn't we examine my upper leg somewhere more private than a bustling train station?

I was vaguely aware that a police officer was taking statements from witnesses in the crowd, while another cuffed the knocked out thieves, but it was all secondary to Ranma's presence; his sharp intake of breath at seeing my exposed left leg, the tremble of his mouth, and the visible pulse at his delicate neck.

Ranma's serious, deadly quiet expression worried me. I looked down. There was a deep gash that went from above my knee and crossed outward in a diagonal slash up the outside of my thigh. It was steadily flowing, but not pulsing out blood. I belatedly realized how lucky I was: my femoral artery wasn't hit. I at least know that level of basic first aid. At the same time, how deep was this cut?

Ranma's hands trembled near my leg, hovering in uncertainty before steadying. In a quick jerk his right hand reached and ripped the left sleeve right off his yukata, the seam giving way immediately.

I flinched and cried out involuntarily, the burning cut protesting as Ranma applied firm pressure with his makeshift bandaging material.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "but hold still. We gotta stop your bleeding."

The bangs of his cursed red hair hid his face from my viewing angle, so I was unable to see his expression.

I nodded. "It looks worse than it is," I responded, more out of hopeful reassurance than actual certainty.

Before Ranma could answer, a police officer's voice responded. "I've radioed dispatch. We will escort you young ladies to the nearest open emergency clinic for treatment before taking your statements. Rest assured your muggers have been apprehended. My partner is bringing our first aid kit now."

Ranma and I both looked up at the officer, surprise written on both our faces. Our little corner of Nerima doesn't get much interaction with formal police entities. We have our own brand of crazy duels, property damage, and the occasional lawsuit, with people dragging themselves to the hospital afterwards. The idea of giving formal, legal testimony about a fight was surreal. A police escort anywhere was way beyond our experience, and I've had my home's dojo blown up by bombs at our attempted wedding.

"Huh. I've never met a competent police force before." Ranma replied.

I facepalmed. Could Ranma be any ruder? I mean, yeah, I was surprised, too, but it didn't mean I was going to say my thoughts aloud!

"Ranma!" I whisper-scolded in embarrassment.

"What?" he asked, completely nonplussed.

The other officer approached with the first aid kit, and with professional ease tightly wrapped and bandaged my leg. To my dismay, I could see how quickly my injury was seeping through the gauze.

I tried to get to my feet, and couldn't hold back a small yelp at the attempt.

"What the hell are you doing?" Ranma's hands were on my shoulder, pinning me in place on the ground. His pretty, feminine face was pinched in exasperation. "I'll carry you."

"Ranma, you can't carry me right now." I gestured at the state of his cursed body. His men's yukata, now torn and without a sleeve, hung oddly on his smaller frame and dragged on the ground, emphasizing how much shorter and smaller he currently was. Although carrying me wasn't impossible, it wasn't practical for him to attempt for such a long stretch. His cursed form was shorter, lighter, and had far less upper body strength than myself. It made him incredibly fast and lithe in a fight, but even Ranma bemoaned his lack of strength in this body.

"If I may, miss?" the police officer asked, although it was less a genuine question and more a courtesy as he lifted me.

I caught Ranma bristle, squaring his shoulders in a very masculine manner before deflating like a punctured volleyball.

I felt a stab of sympathy for Ranma. This was another blow to his ego, along with extra irritation regarding his curse. He had more or less come to accept his magical condition, but acceptance wasn't the same as being happy with it.

I wanted a moment to reassure Ranma privately, but that couldn't happen right now. I just hoped our medical detour wouldn't take long.

[RANMA]

Dried blood was caked on my hands. It was sickening. I was scrubbing as fast as I could in the clinic sink, not wanting to think about how badly injured Akane might be, or how much longer I'd have to wait before seeing her.

They had sent us to the only emergency clinic that was open for such a late hour. It was small, and almost familiar with a nearly identical architecture and layout to Tofu's in Nerima.

I hadn't wanted to be parted from Akane, but they had pretty forcibly, if politely, insisted we needed to be treated separately. They had rushed Akane into a separate room first, and I had been left pacing and staring in horror at Akane's blood smeared on my palms. I'm not squeamish about bodily fluids, but having this vivid, tangible reminder that Akane was hurt, that I had failed her, made me want to find a bucket and puke my guts out.

The scant few minutes of waiting felt like being dragged through broken glass. All I could do was scrub and scrub away at my hands, as if removing Akane's blood could help convince me she hadn't been injured. Or at least, it wasn't as insistent a reminder.

Finally, a nurse came and directed me to the emergency eye wash station, and well, I had to admit it was an immediate relief - of my physical pain, at least. I moaned from the cooling comfort. Damn, but I'm never underestimating the power of mace again. Also, I'm now incredibly grateful that Kodachi is an eccentric freak with knock-out poisons and paralyzing agents instead of into torture. Who'da thought I'd be appreciating her brand of crazy kink?

The nurse then directed me to look at some black medical wand in his hand that also shined a bright light. He hummed in approval. I didn't care.

"Thankfully whatever chemical agent that was used didn't cause any permanent damage. How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Fine," I insisted. I hopped off the examination table. "I need to check on Akane."

The nurse gave me a small, placating smile and took his time cleaning the lenses on his glasses before answering me. "Our policy is to wait until a patient is done being treated before they receive visitors. Just wait here while they finish treating her. You wouldn't want to distract the doctor, would you?"

Fuck policy. I needed to see Akane for myself. I couldn't fully explain my uneasiness. It was a deep, primal urge to see Akane and the nurse's patronizing tone made me want to stuff my fist in his mouth. I do, however, have some brains. When it comes to men like this, I can sometimes turn my curse to my advantage.

I took a deep breath and gave him my cutest, most pleadingly large eyes. "Oh. I see," I replied breathily. "But how could I possibly rest without knowing how my dear cousin is doing? Couldn't you please let me see her?" I was now holding the nurse's hands while giving him my biggest performance. "She could be so scared by herself. I promise I won't get in the way."

Years of using my over-the-top girly act have won me free snacks and all sorts of privileges. I just had to hope it would work here, too.

The nurse's mouth softened. "You're a sweet girl to be so concerned. Let me ask if you can join her."

It took less than a minute for him to come back, the benefits of being in a tiny neighborhood clinic. "She's being treated in the adjacent room, but -"

I was out the door and entering Akane's room.

She was lying down on an examination table, the attending clinician stitching her wound shut, while another attending nurse assisted with gauze and supplies. From the doorway, I could only partially see the extent of Akane's injury, but even the partial view showed me a lot of sutures already in place. It felt rude and invasive to stare, and the sight made me a little sick to my stomach, a coil of guilt, anger, and utter wrongness. Akane was hurt. This had happened on my watch. I had been too slow to stop it. I hadn't protected her.

Akane's eyes met mine and she gave me a tight smile. "Ranma! Are your eyes okay?" I gave a small nod, but Akane must have noticed my worried expression. "They're patching me up. Like I told you, it's not that bad."

The doctor corrected Akane without even glancing up from her work. "You're actually very fortunate, a little deeper or to the side by a few centimeters, and you might have bled out if it had hit your femoral artery."

I swallowed a hard knot in my throat. My original tightly contained panic at the station was like a bad aftertaste in my mouth. I had been right in fearing the worst, even if the worse hadn't happened. The span of a pinky finger had been the difference between life and…no. No. Not going there.

I went beside Akane's head, as if putting distance between her injury and myself could help me pretend it wasn't there, that the close call had never happened.

Akane's expression became concerned at my silence. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked quietly. I still couldn't bring myself to find words. My tongue was dry and worthless in my mouth. "Your eyes look better, but do they still hurt?"

It was just like Akane to be more worried about me than herself, even in the midst of needles sewing her flesh back together. "I'm fine." I answered, my voice oddly hoarse. Stupid female body. Don't cry. That would be so lame. She is going to be okay. No need to cry in relief over it.

Akane winced suddenly, and the doctor noticed. "Almost done, we'll be finished before the analgesic fully wears off. Please remain still."

On impulse, my hand found hers. My hands were clean now, if still small and ridiculously delicate. Since I didn't train as much in my cursed form, I hardly had any calluses. Their smooth texture was a striking contrast between Akane's well calloused palms, honed by years of smashing bricks and beating up high school perverts. Sometimes it was hard to reconcile my Jusenkyo-cursed-form hands as even being mine, but at least Akane's felt the same as I ever remembered. "Give me a squeeze, if it hurts, got it?" I told her.

Akane nodded, and I felt a tiny squeeze as she winced again.

I had been so useless before, and my failure was eating at me. At least this I could do for now.

Chapter Text

[AKANE]

"Thank you for coming down to finalize our report."

Ranma and I shifted uncomfortably on the hard plastic chairs in the kōban. As it was late, no one else was in the small community police station than us. Officers Yamada and Tanaka were on the other side of a plain metal desk, taking notes amid the mess of confiscated wallets, purses, and miscellaneous bags that had been stuffed in our thief's backpack.

My bag had been removed from the general pile, its carrying straps cut and frayed.

Officer Tanaka was clearly the senior, with a touch of gray beginning at either side of his temple. Officer Yamada looked quite young in comparison, and it suddenly struck me how he was likely only a few years older than us.

The younger Yamada brought out two small steaming cups of tea in styrofoam cups. Ranma hadn't made a move to even accept his, keeping a wary eye on it from its perch on the desk.

I thanked him and sipped mine slowly, appreciating the calming warmth of the tea, distracting my body from the ache in my leg as I focused on the bitter grassy taste and the contrast of the heat amidst the overly air conditioned police station.

Tanaka continued. "We are required to do an inventory after any attempted robbery. Would you please check your belongings, Miss Tendo? And you, Miss Saotome? Did you lose anything?"

Ranma scowled, but refrained from any corrections. He was still in his cursed female body, and it seemed easier to just stay that way than explain how a fellow "victim" had disappeared. "Nothin' of mine got stolen. Just Akane's."

Panic suddenly gripped me. They needed to inventory the contents of my bag. "You…you need to go through my bag? Um, there's really no need!"

Tanaka frowned. "We have to make sure what was your property versus anything that the thieves may have taken from other victims."

My face flushed with heat and I could only imagine the tell tale blush appearing on my cheeks.

"Wait!"

Before I could stop him, my bag's contents were gently spilled onto the desk.

I couldn't look. Both hands instantly flew to my face in embarrassment and I winced.

"Uh…Akane?" Ranma's voice, still in his female soprano tones, was baffled. "Is that…what I think it is?"

Reluctantly I forced my eyes open, and it was even more embarrassing than I imagined. No one was paying attention to the usual items in a young lady's handbag (my wallet, lip gloss, housekeys, and a neatly folded coupon). All eyes were on the shiny plastic pile of colorful condoms covering the table. Why, oh why had Nodoka put so many of them in my bag? Even if my mother-in-law-to-be seriously wanted Ranma and me to…to have intimate relations, who on earth needed more than a dozen condoms for one date?!

Even Tanaka and Yamada were temporarily tongue tied. Yamada cleared his throat pointedly. "Miss, I'm not interested in bringing prostitution charges against you or your friend this evening, if that is what concerns you. If those thieves were actually your pimps, we can protect you. We just need the truth."

The truth?! Sure, I bet they'd believe it if I told them it was just my overly enthusiastic and pushy future mother-in-law stuffing my purse against my will to bed her "man among men" son. Even worse, what was Ranma thinking about me right now?

I had to try, right? "I'm not - we're not - they're not mine! I mean, they are, but I didn't put them in there." Oh great. I was getting even more tongue tied than Ranma. All I wanted was a sinkhole to open up beneath my feet and swallow me in.

Frankly, I cared less about explaining to the officers than clearing up any misunderstandings with Ranma. I could barely bring myself to look in his direction. "They weren't my idea! Remember when your mother pulled me aside, earlier? She was..she insisted I take those."

In what I can only assume was an act of divine intervention, Ranma's face lit with sudden comprehension. "Oh, that's why you were so embarrassed when we left the house this evening! Sheesh, Ma can be pushy."

So of course, if Ranma actually understood what was happening, it only made sense for the universe to not impart equal understanding on anyone else. Especially as the madam of a brothel was often referred to as "mama-san" or other "mother" titles.

Tanaka, in a classic take of "good cop, bad cop" immediately used a gruffer tone. "My younger partner is a softie, but if you don't cooperate, I can and will make charges. I don't want hookers walking our streets, this is a respectable, family friendly neighborhood!"

Ranma turned to face Tanaka. His pretty, feminine face was like an ice sculpture, and his voice was cold and level. "Are you accusing my fiancée of being a whore?"

"Fiancée?" Both officers looked confused now.

Ranma grabbed his abandoned cup of tea, and poured it over himself. Faster than the human eye could take in, Ranma stood in his undeniably male body; a flat, broad chest, a clearly pronounced Adam's apple, and his defined muscular biceps and calloused, large hands. The hair color change only added to the transformation.

Both officers jumped out of their seats, terrified expressions on their faces.

"You-you're a man? How?"

I let out a sigh. "He always is a man. He just has this curse, that means his body changes to a female one with cold water. Hot water restores him. It took me a while to understand, too, but he's always the same on the inside, where it counts."

The younger officer poked Ranma in his exposed arm, where the yukata sleeve was missing, as if to convince himself he wasn't hallucinating the change.

Tanaka managed to regain his composure first. "I saw both your IDs…from Nerima, right? You wouldn't happen to be from the Tanihara precinct of Nerima?"

Officer Yamada's eyebrows were nearly at his hairline, his eyes round with a mixture of fear and surprise. "I thought that was a myth to scare new recruits! 'Shape up or we'll post you to Tanihara with the kitsune shapeshifters and yokai!'"

"I'm not a fox!" Ranma protested testily, his arms crossed against his now toned and flat chest. "I'm just cursed."

Officer Tanaka resumed his seat, switching back into information gathering mode. "Those stories about a flying ox-yeti-eel monster are just exaggerated, right?"

I tried to give the officer a reassuring smile, but it came out a bit strained. "Oh, um, he's very real. His name is Taro. He's a menace, but he hasn't been back in a long time."

The younger Yamada's face had paled even further. I guess it is a lot to take in all at once. I've gotten so used to the strange and magical that it's become mundane to me.

Yamada turned to Tanaka. "How the hell do we write our report now, senpai?"

Tanaka's face was firm, remembering that he had an example to uphold as the senior officer. "I'm not about to be a laughing stock. We tell the truth, but not all the details. Selective briefing is key, haven't I been telling you?" Tanaka took a deep breath and glared at the paper and pen in his hands, setting them on the desk with a thunk before continuing.

"The report will read as follows: We apprehended two muggers. We escorted the injured female victims to the clinic. They were treated. Their statements confirm what the crowd said of being mugged and that they had enough self defense training to hold off the assailants until we arrived. End of story."

Ranma's arms were crossed and his jaw set tightly before he added, "And you'll apologize to my fiancée for insulting her honor."

Ranma's glare was as unwavering as steel.

My eyebrows rose in surprise. Every now and again Ranma could get openly protective of anyone disrespecting me, like that incident with Herb. Still, I hadn't expected Ranma to be this adamant about the situation. He was asking, no, demanding that these respected public safety officers issue an apology to me, a mere teenage girl.

As if I wasn't surprised enough for the evening, both policemen bowed to me. Tanaka's voice was sincere as he spoke. "Our apologies for making brash deductions on your character, miss."

I could only nod with mute acceptance.

With a quick snap of his wrist, Tanaka closed his notebook. "If that's all, you are free to leave."

Ranma and I nodded weary agreement and left the station.

My mouth cracked open in a huge yawn, which I politely covered with my hand. I was more than ready to head home, too.

"Ranma, what time is it?"

Ranma checked his watch and I caught his eyes grow wide. "Oh shit!"

"What?"

"It's already 11:30 pm."

My heart was racing. We were easily a 45 minute walk away from our desired train station, and no trains ran past midnight, even on a festival day. "But we'll never catch the last train back home!"

Ranma crouched down, his back facing me. "That's not an option. Hop on."

"What?" I was tired and having trouble following Ranma's plan.

"If I run full out, we can make it. We both know you can't on that leg. So, hop on, now!"

"But-" I wanted to argue. I don't like it when I can't pull my own weight. My pride bristled.

"If you don't hop on, you know I'm just going to carry you bridal style!" Ranma warned, and I knew it was no idle threat.

I sighed in resignation. "Fine. Okay. Let's go."

Original Publication Date: October 30, 2023

Happy early Halloween! If interested, check out my profile for my "Halloween Havoc" Ranma/Akane story!

Chapter Text

[AKANE]

"We…we missed it."

Ranma's voice was full of disbelief. I could only sigh, not overly surprised at how our misadventures were continuing. Somewhere in the station the clock chimed the midnight bells. There wouldn't be another train until tomorrow morning.

I was still on Ranma's back, so I tapped his shoulder twice to get his attention. "You can put me down."

For a brief moment I felt Ranma's muscles tighten, resisting the idea. Then I heard as well as felt a big sigh escape him as he gently lowered me to the ground.

Ranma gave me one of his not-so-hidden glances, his eyes drawn to the blood stain on my yukata. He was likely still feeling protective of me, and failing to reach the last train in time was only going to injure his pride further.

Ranma pulled out his wallet, gloomily counting the scant amount of yen inside.

"Okay, so I think I got enough to pay for you to use a hostel to sleep tonight. I'm pretty good at finding a place to sleep outside without catching the authorities' attention, so-"

"What?! Absolutely not, Ranma." I crossed my arms, unconsciously steadying my feet in a stance as if I were entering a battle.

Ranma glared at me. "No way in hell I'm letting you sleep out on the streets, Akane."

"And you think I'd let you do the same?" I countered back.

"I'm a man, it's different!"

As if the heavens accepted his challenge, distant thunder rumbled.

"You just had to say that aloud? I wouldn't bet on you staying male for long." I felt myself on the edge of victory.

Ranma scowled. "It's still different."

I wanted to rip my hair out in frustration. "Ranma! Honestly! Stop being a stubborn, chivalrous idiot for one minute!"

Ranma glared and mumbled, "You're the stubborn one," but let me continue.

I took in a slow, deep breath to rein in my own temper and began again. "Look…even if I was willing to let you suffer alone - which I'm not - it's probably past curfew for any hostels, anyway, right? Assuming we even found one that had an opening on a big festival day."

Ranma sighed and nodded gloomily.

"And, well… your mother. She, uh, well…" Now that my temper had died down, embarrassment flooded my brain and I could feel a surge of heat in my cheeks and ears.

Ranma's right palm gently slapped his forehead in exasperation. "What else did my ma do?"

There was no point in dragging out the information, so I took a deep breath and let it out in a quick rush. "She got us a coupon for a free stay at - at a hotel for us."

"She did?!" Ranma's face cracked into a happy grin. "Why didn't you say something sooner? Let's go."

I felt my face grow even hotter. "Um, it's not a normal hotel."

Ranma quirked an eyebrow.

I pressed on, despite my mortification. "It's a rabuho."

[RANMA]

My brain stuttered to a halt.

Rabuho. Love hotel. The rampant pay-by-the-hour (or night) pleasure accommodations for couples, secret lovers, and prostitutes.

My ma (or even Pop) setting up something like this wasn't surprising, but hearing Akane

actually suggest we stay at one made the gears in my brain jam.

Even so, my shocked system put the two obvious pieces of data together. "So… my ma gave you a giant stack of condoms and a free stay at a love hotel?"

Akane's face was now crimson. I'm sure mine was, too.

She was pointedly avoiding eye contact with me as she replied. "I'm not suggesting we do anything other than sleep, so don't get any perverted ideas, ok? I had to humor her when she shoved the condoms and gift card at me when we were leaving."

It was hard to tell if she was angry or embarrassed. Probably both.

As for myself, I was a churning mix of conflicted emotions and feelings I couldn't even describe. Only one thing I knew for certain: I had to take care of Akane. It was bad enough she'd been injured on my watch tonight, and I'd failed to get us to the last train home. There was no way I was letting her rough it out on the streets to boot, and the blush on her face told me she didn't feel comfortable sharing that hotel room with me. "You should use it by yourself," I told her. "I'll be okay."

Akane was pointedly not making eye contact with me, but she suddenly looked up and purposely met my gaze. "Ranma! I can't let you do that. I mean, besides the fact that I could just splash you with cold water…I don't need to because I trust you. As much as I've yelled at you about being a pervert in the past, I know better now. I wouldn't have brought it up if I didn't."

I was stunned by both Akane's words and the beautiful scarlet cheeks that rendered her face beyond cute. I swallowed hard, and forced myself back into a semblance of normalcy. It wouldn't do to say something forward right when she trusted me to be the perfect gentleman.

I gave her my tell tale smirk. "Not to mention you'd punch me through the roof with your gorilla strength if I tried," I joked.

Akane didn't miss a beat, and sassed right back at me. "I believe the words you meant were 'amazing martial artist who can take care of herself.'"

I couldn't help but stare at the blood stain on her yukata. "Most of the time," I agreed quietly.

Akane's hand gently cupped my face, guiding it away from her injury and back to her face. "Hey," she said, all lightness and banter replaced with serious sincerity. "I'm okay."

I didn't want to dwell on her close call tonight. I swallowed hard and my hand reached up to touch her own, bringing it to my side and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Then let's head to that hotel and get some well earned sleep."

[RANMA]

The architecture was garish, the neon lighting outside the rabuho obnoxiously bright and blinking in patterns to force the eye's attention. The cheesy, over the top name of "Ring My Bell" wasn't helping to ease our tension.

At least the actual entrance was subtle, almost difficult to find. Soon as I pulled on the door, the threatening rain clouds that had been following us burst open. Drops of water splattered the pavement, and the humid air only grew thicker.

Akane raised an eyebrow at me, "See? I told you."

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered. Not that I couldn't have handled some miserable weather and a forced gender change, but I was grateful to sleep in a dry bed all the same.

It was my first time in a rabuho, and Akane looked equally tense as we peered around the small room. Was this a lobby? Unlike regular hotels, there wasn't an employee present to check in and register guests. There was just an electronic kiosk, a bit like a ticket counter at the bus or train stations.

Thankfully, it accepted the coupon and gift card from my ma without issue.

However…there was an interesting message on the screen. "Be aware that maintenance is working on a burst water pipe. Some temperature fluctuations are to be expected. We apologize for any inconveniences."

I sighed and shrugged. At this point, I was starting to think the evening was cursed. Everything after our kiss had turned into one disaster after another. "Sounds like it'll be cold showers tonight."

Akane sighed along with me. "Better than nothing."

[RANMA]

My head instinctively turned at the sound of the bathroom door opening, my eyes captivated. Akane's skin was pink and glowing from beneath the hotel's sleek bathrobe. Her hair was damp, tied back in a towel like a turban. It was almost a normal domestic scene, one I'd caught her in more times than I could count in the Tendo household over the last two years. Yet in the confines of our small, intimate hotel room, it felt different. The short, sleekness of the bathrobe was also worlds away in sexiness from the full length, fuzzy cotton robe she used at home. I felt myself exerting extra effort not to glance down at her bare legs exposed in the robe, but the fullness of her lips was hardly a safe place to gaze either.

"It's all yours," she beckoned. "Just be warned the water is actually pretty hot."

"Hot." I repeated absently, before my mind lurched back to the actual conversation. "Right. The water. Right." I was babbling like an idiot. Just great. C'mon brain, say something so she doesn't think you're a pervert! "That's good. Not stuck with ice cold water, so that's good. Uh, I'll just go in then."

I made a strategic retreat to the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind me with a breath of relief. Akane's ruined yukata was dripping wet, hand washed and hanging behind the small bathroom door. It wasn't like we had spare clothes for tomorrow, so it was the best we could do. The blood stain was still visible, but much faded and mostly scrubbed out. Given the nasty tear, it wasn't likely we'd be saving these beyond our trip back home tomorrow.

I gave my own soiled garments a brief handwashing in the sink, too, trying my hardest to calm my racing heart.

Look, I'm not a pervert. Really, I'm not. I am probably the most honorable teenage male you've ever met. But hell, I am an 18 year old male. I have thoughts. I can't help them! And right now, my mind and body were keenly aware that I was in a private room, in a Love Hotel, with a scantily dressed Akane in the bed outside this tiny bathroom.

So naturally, my mind wandered a bit into some very R-rated territory.

Get a grip, I internally yelled at myself.

Once I was under the running water, I couldn't help but curse my luck. Of all the times I really, really wanted some cold water...and here I was surrounded by nothing but scalding hot. Akane wasn't kidding. Apparently "temperature fluctuations" meant all the cold water pipes were broken. It was almost as bad as the time with the Full Body Cat's Tongue. Almost.

The stinging on my skin wasn't enough to distract my previous thoughts. Today had been a pure roller coaster, and my tired mind kept wandering back to the feel of Akane's lips pressed against mine, and what more would have happened without that chaotic interruption in the midst of it.

I had to snap out of it. Not only because my skin was turning lobster red from the hot water, but other parts of my anatomy were definitely too alert and large, if you get my drift.

I scrambled out of the shower, toweling off and still in trouble. In the thin hotel robe, I didn't stand a chance of not getting hit by an Akane screaming at me for being a perv.

I forced my mind to think some truly vile and unsexy thoughts. Happosai feeling me up was a pretty good one, but forcing me to imagine Cologne in a bikini sealed the deal.

I carefully exited the bathroom, not sure exactly what to expect. I mean, Akane was probably just asleep, even if she was wrapped in nothing but a way too sexy robe.

I carefully looked.

Yup.

I sighed.

A deep sigh.

Not entirely of relief, either.

All the lights in the room were off except one. The side table's lamp cast a gentle, warm glow that just barely illuminated the bed. Under the covers, Akane sure looked asleep; her eyes shut, her breathing soft and even. She was not curled up on her side like usual, but stretched out on her back, with one hand over her stomach on top of the sheets.

Part of me was resentful. How come I'm all anxious and worked up when she's just asleep?! How the hell can she be asleep so fast in a love hotel?! How UNCUTE!

I was really - really - tempted to be a jerk; to be a little too loud getting in the sheets, or jump a little too roughly into my side, just to make things fair. I sure as hell didn't think I'd be able to fall asleep so quickly, even though it was god awful late and my body was beyond tired.

But when I looked at her face, not quite as smooth and relaxed as I was used to seeing, the guilt returned in full force. Here I was begrudging Akane for getting some rest when she had been hurt? Hurt, of all things, after saving my ass. How many freaking times would the tomboy throw herself in harm's way for my sake?

I climbed in as silently and gently as I could, leaving a cushion of honorable air between us. I was flat on my back, staring at the weirdly mirrored ceiling and our own dim reflection, but despite the soft sheets all I felt was a hard lump of guilt churning in my gut. I raked my hands through my bangs, tugging them hard in frustration. I'm sure it was mainly due to the exhaustion eating away at my brain, but the words flew out of my mouth unbidden. "I promise. I promise to protect you better, and myself, so you don't end up like this again." A shuddering breath escaped me. The realization of how things could have gone so much worse was like a weight crushing my chest and squeezing my lungs. "I'm sorry."

I fully expected her to be asleep, to not hear a word I said. So I was surprised when Akane turned her head, and beautiful brown eyes met my own.

"You don't have anything to be sorry about," she spoke softly and sincerely.

I couldn't accept forgiveness that easily. "You got slashed while I was on my freakin' knees, Akane. That's hardly my best moment."

Her voice was quiet, but the weariness was there, too, and a steely certainty that was utterly Akane. "And who was it that kept me safe from further harassment on the train? Who defended my honor and reputation when being questioned by the police? Who carried me in a full run when I wasn't in top shape?" Her hand reached out gently, pulling mine away from tugging punishingly at my scalp. "It was my choice to butt in. It was my fault for being too reckless. And it was those jerks' fault for robbing us and fighting dirty. None of it was your fault. So get some sleep, guilt-free, okay?"

I swallowed hard, getting lost in the warmth in her eyes. The tension in my gut eased. Her hand was still holding mine.

Mournfully, I felt her release my hand. "Goodnight, Ranma."

"Goodnight, Akane."

[AKANE]

After reassuring Ranma, I tried to sleep. I was certainly tired and ached for sleep, but my stitches itched and my injury burned as the local anesthetic wore off. I normally prefer to fall asleep on my stomach or side, (and yes, I'm aware I tend to toss and turn quite a bit into different positions once I am sound asleep), but the only bearable position right now was flat on my back, relieving any pressure off my leg.

I figured the exhaustion of the day would win out...but the final straw was being here, in a seedy Love Hotel room, inches away from Ranma on the same bed. I didn't even have the security of normal pajamas. While our hastily hand-washed clothing hung to dry in the bathroom, we only had the hotel's flimsy robes to cover us. How could he possibly be lying next to me without an ounce of tension?

I felt a strange mixture of relief that Ranma hadn't made a move - he's been quite honorable, honestly, and so… ugh, I'm going to sound like a complete hypocrite here, given all the times I've yelled at him for being a pervert - but I also was a bit disappointed. Did he seriously have no trouble falling asleep here and now? This wasn't the slightest bit awkward for him? After that amazing kiss in the park, there was a jumble of frustration, confusion, sexual tension and embarrassment competing for space in my head.

I tried counting sheep, anything to try and bore my brain into slumber and ignore everything else. It wasn't working. Instead my mind shifted focus to the sounds of Ranma's steady breathing next to me. He wasn't snoring, but at the same time...it didn't sound like he was asleep, either. I risked opening my eyes and turned my head towards him. His eyes were shut, but his muscles seemed drawn tight, and not nearly as relaxed as I initially believed.

I decided to risk a tiny whisper. "Ranma...are you still awake?"

"Yeah" his response was immediate, and although his voice was quiet he didn't bother to whisper, and there wasn't a trace of drowsiness to it.

I couldn't help but smile, nearly laughing at ourselves. "We're ridiculous."

"What?" Ranma wasn't following me.

I turned gently, wincing slightly to face him more clearly on the shared bed. "This -" I motioned vaguely. "Us. We almost got married, and we're too afraid to sleep in the same bed."

Ranma immediately bristled. "Hey, I'm not afraid of anything!"

In the face of his ridiculous bravado, I couldn't help my next reply. "Anything that's not a cat, you mean?"

Ranma glared at me, but before he could speak I seized the chance to continue. "Sorry. But honestly...we've never really stopped to talk about, well, our relationship...since the failed wedding."

Ranma swallowed hard and I saw the muscles in his jaw twitch and tighten. I half expected him to bolt from the room.

Just a few months ago, I thought I knew how Ranma felt about me. Nearly dying in his arms, and hearing - (or at least I thought I heard) - him scream he loved me, tears streaking down his face. I thought I finally had the answer. It's why I had agreed to the rushed wedding our fathers had sprung. As much as I'd like to help Ranma find his cure (for his own happiness), that alone wouldn't have been enough for me to marry him. I just can't bring myself to enter a marriage without love in it, from both sides.

But then he denied it, sort of. Or at least, denied he had ever declared aloud he loved me.

So it's left me wondering. I mean, he definitely never fails to protect me, and I know that he cares for me. But Ranma cares about a lot of people and doing the honorable thing. If anything, Ranma being such an honorable guy makes it all the more likely that his caring for me might not extend into actual love, just obligation.

And yes, even though he appeared really upset when he believed me dead at Jusendo, and again today when I got hurt, perhaps that was all just guilt for not being a "man among men" and an undefeatable hero of a martial artist. That wouldn't be love, just pride talking. I know too well how Ranma overreacts to his bruised ego and overly sensitive pride.

The real clincher is that Ranma hasn't made a move to settle things between his other fiancees. Was that kiss at the park as special as I want to believe it was? Was it truly something he would only do with me, and not another fiancee who gave him the opportunity? Because as much as I trust Ranma not to overstep boundaries, (the way I originally feared when our fathers thrust this engagement on us and I was battling perverted high school jocks from taking unwanted liberties), I don't know if I can trust him not to break my heart.

With all the firsts of tonight, our first real date, our first kiss, I shouldn't be greedy for more, but at the same time…I'm afraid of slipping backwards into doubts and his rival fiancees causing mayhem. How often would we get the chance to be private and uninterrupted? Not grasping this chance seems the biggest risk.

So I can't fall asleep, inches away in the same bed, without knowing plain and simply what Ranma wants. Not our fathers, or honor, or obligation, or pride. I want to know what his heart is telling him. Am I merely his innazuke, an engagement forced by parental arrangement? Or are we now konyakusha, a true engagement we are choosing and claiming?

I gear myself up for the most brutally vulnerable conversation we've ever dared to have. There was probably something in my expression that gave me away, because Ranma's eyes widened, half panicked.

"Ranma… I need you to be honest. Right now, without anyone else around, I need to know what I mean to you and our engagement."

[RANMA]

My head was swimming and my tongue turned into a useless piece of clay in my mouth. What is Akane to me? Hell, she means so many different things to me, how can I actually put that into words? I'm the best freakin' martial artist there is, make no mistake, but I'm starting to realize that the training that got me there didn't do me any favors in figuring out people and emotions, mine or theirs. In my experience, letting my mouth loose leads to me sleeping on a broken rooftop.

"Well, what about you? How do you feel about me and the engagement?" I challenged her, buying myself time and turning aside her question like a judo block.

Akane's eyes went wide, not expecting to switch roles.

"Wait, I asked you first," she evaded.

"Hey, I got a right to know, too!"

Akane's eyes flashed as her temper started to rise. "Honestly! I'm not the one with multiple fiancees!"

Silence echoed in the small room. That was the big elephant in the room, alright. I haven't done squat to deal with the women chasing after me and the ones Pop has promised me out to like I'm a damn library book.

My mouth was half open to reply when Akane turned away from me to lie on her back. "Ugh, I don't even know why I'm upset. I'm sure we're both way too tired for this. Goodnight." Her last word was a puff of anger that wished me anything but a good night's sleep.

Akane grunted in discomfort, and then turned fully on to her other side to place her back to me.

Shit, what a mess. "So uncute," I grumbled, doing my best to squash the feelings of guilt pricking at my conscience. If she wanted to ignore me, then two could play at that.

I turned to my opposite side, so I could pretend she wasn't the one who had her back turned to me.

Maybe it was hours, or simply that the minutes ticked by like hours, but I still couldn't sleep. Damn it. Akane was mad at me, for...what? Things had been going so well until...untill I couldn't speak honestly enough to her. Even I had to admit, it really wasn't that unreasonable a question for her to ask me. We'd been thrown together in an arranged marriage for over two years. We'd been through so much since then, and we were now in our senior year of high school. We actually had a moment of privacy without a cure dangling over our heads, or my ma's katana, or even our fathers waiting with the priest on speed dial. I had started to open up, and then slammed the lid soon as I realized she was peeking. But that was no way to start -what? A life together? A relationship?

Is that what she was actually upset about? That I'm not open enough...or brave enough, to be with her?

Or worse….

Fury and annoyance and fear bubbled up into a nauseous cacophony in my soul. "Are you seriously so dense as to not get what you mean to me by now?!"

The words came out harsher than I intended, my mouth letting loose without a filter. As usual.

I heard Akane suck in a deep breath, and I feared she was taking this the wrong way and gearing up to fight. I couldn't risk that, so my unfiltered mouth opened again as I tried to clarify.

"Listen. You know how, well, for most of my life, it's just been me and Pop. Drifting place to place. Not getting too attached to anyone or anything. You've been a part of my life for just two years, and I don't even want to remember what it was like before we met. All the crazy shit we've been through, even the fighting, I wouldn't trade a second of the worst of it... if it means I couldn't be with you."

Akane was uncharacteristically silent. I sat up and turned the nightstand light back on, determined to see Akane's reaction.

Her eyes were extra shiny, and for a second I was worried I said the wrong thing again, because it almost looked like she was going to cry.

"Do you mean that?" she asked, her voice small and watery.

I swallowed hard. I was too tired for denials, and after a day like today, I was done trying to put aside the truth. "I do. You know I'm a crap liar."

Akane chuckled at that, and suddenly she was wiping away at her eyes as she sat up.

"So the reason you haven't done anything about your other fiancees is…?"

I sighed. That was the million dollar question. "It's not like I want all this engagement mess. I mean, it was flattering at first," Akane scowled at me, so I quickly pressed on. "But it's like this: have you figured out any way to stop Kuno from 'courting' and pinning after you?"

Akane grimaced. "Hmm. You have a point."

I nodded, relieved I was making sense and not sticking my foot in my mouth so far. "I don't got a solution. It's chaos. But don't ever let that make you stupid about us. 'Cause I don't want them any more than you want Kuno. They got nothing to do with us."

"Us." Akane breathed out the word as if it was something precious and fragile. Maybe it was.

"Us." I repeated, more strongly.

"I like the sound of 'us'." Akane reached over tentatively, her fingers gently moving a strand of hair out of my eyes before she gently brought her lips to mine.

I thought nothing could top the giddy rush of our first kiss.

I was wrong.

I was never so happy to be so damn wrong.

Her lips moved against mine, gentle but firm. Movement and action have always been my fluent, native language. In this I felt like I could understand Akane's intent; that she cared for me, wanted me, that she…she was solidifying the desire to be 'us' as a physical contract. What did words matter when this was solid and real and true?

My left hand rose to cup her face and bring her more tightly to me. Instinct guided me, my tongue tracing along her bottom lip. Akane's lips parted more sweetly than a flower, allowing me entrance. I took my time, tasting her, running my tongue over the inside of her mouth, familiarizing myself with this new world. A soft moan of pleasure escaped Akane and I felt my body thrum in response to this little victory.

My advantage was soon lost, when Akane nibbled my bottom lip in a combination of tenderness and teasing that left me moaning involuntarily in ecstacy.

Soon it was a fierce competition, a challenge of who could elicit the best reaction from the other, both of us refusing to give an inch. One of Akane's hands was tangled in my long hair, while mine had migrated to her hip, pulling her even closer. My body was on fire, burning at our contact but greedily desiring more and more.

[AKANE]

Ranma's hand on my hip pulled me closer, and nervousness tangled with competing highs of lust and love. This was happening too fast, and altogether not fast enough. Two long years of fighting, of friendship, of dancing around each other and so many almost-moments only to freefall into this space.

My hand roamed from Ranma's hair to his neck, my thumb rubbing small circles into him as I went. The feverish pace of our kiss made me feel like I was on the edge of an explosion. Could a person burst apart from heat and happiness?

As wonderful as this was, I still needed to breathe. I slowed my pace, breaking contact for a moment to pull in air. Ranma recaptured my lips in his, but he matched my new pace, becoming slower and more tender. Before, our kissing was as thrilling and challenging as sparring, but now it was transforming into something akin to shadow boxing; mirroring each other beat for beat.

Ranma trailed the hand that had been at my hip down the length of my arm, sending a new shiver down my body. I drew my hand away from his neck and tangled my fingers with his.

Our lips were our own again, the intimacy remaining, but in a softer, steadier way.

Ranma's eyes met my own, and I no longer felt any doubts.

I knew. Like a kaleidoscope turned to just the right position, the world has shifted into a beautiful pattern I could finally understand.

I had heard him at Jusendo.

Aloud or not, it was the voice of his heart.

Ranma's mouth moved into a bashful smile, his fingers gently squeezing mine.

"So, uh…" he cleared his throat, a small blush growing on his cheeks. "You got my answer, but you never did answer my question…so does this mean…?"

I placed a gossamer kiss on his lips before answering.

"I love you, too, idiot."