Chapter Text
Author’s Note: I opened this file on my computer the other day and saw that the first draft had been written in 2018. Whew… a lot of life has happened since then, but my love for this fandom has never wavered. And the anime remake got me all inspired to finish up some of these old stories rotting on my hard drive. I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: Ranma ½ doesn’t belong to me… but one can dream, right?
The Wedding Night
Part 1
Why didn’t he hear it? That little noise, the muffled sliding of the front door whenever someone opened it in hopes of entering the house undetected…
Ranma rolled onto his side and glared sleepily at the small clock on the floor beside his face: 3:26 A.M. Akane had left with Yuka and Sayuri more than ten hours ago, and not a sign of her since.
How did no one else notice? The idea baffled him. Yet, each of the remaining members of the Tendo family slept soundly in their respective bedrooms, and a panda snored heedlessly beside him, while he lay rigid and anxious, insides writhing with a sickeningly familiar combination of guilt and worry.
The pigtailed boy strained his ears against the symphony of crickets in the backyard and squinted his eyes into the darkness. He had intentionally left his bedroom door cracked open in hopes of seeing a yellow-clad silhouette tiptoe quietly to her room down the hall but had so far been disappointed.
He rolled onto his back again and stared blankly at the ceiling. The summer night was so stifling he’d stripped down to his underwear and collapsed, exhausted, into bed after warding off the last of the interlopers.
The day had been an absolute fiasco; there was no other word for it. Amid the chaos – a triple attack by his other would-be suitors, a slew of wedding crashers and threats, and losing the last bit of the spring of drowned man – Ranma had barely registered that for a few brief moments, both he and Akane had mutually agreed to wed and were on the verge of going through with it. And yet, the implications of that decision, years in the making, had been forced aside by the mayhem only now to float unbidden to the surface of his mind as he lay there ruminating in the dark.
The same ten seconds played on repeat in his head.
Ranma had been trying in vain to squirm his way out of Ukyo, Shampoo, and Kodachi’s combined grasp, when, at a particularly desperate moment, he’d positively shouted, “Are you crazy?! I’m not marrying her!” The bevvy of would-be fiancées had threatened tears, poison, and maiming in response to his impending nuptials, and Ranma had unfortunately reverted to reflexive denial. He’d glanced over at Akane and caught her eye, and he knew by the shattered look on her face that he had finally done some real damage. By the time he had disentangled himself, she had slipped out of the dojo and disappeared with Yuka and Sayuri. A sword between his eyes and a bandana around his neck had prevented him from tailing her. Distracted by choking, engaging in several separate hand-to-hand fights, and dragging his drunken father and would-be father-in-law out of the koi pond and into bed, Ranma had not had the bandwidth to chase Akane down.
That was what he’d told himself, anyway, that he’d been preoccupied, though it wasn’t strictly true. In reality, he just didn’t know what to say to her. An apology seemed inadequate, an outright confession of his feelings a bit over-the-top. Ranma would never describe himself as “tactful,” and while he occasionally said the right thing, he mostly didn’t. And something told him that in this case he couldn’t afford to get it wrong.
Plus, she definitely needed her own space and some time to cool off. Which is true, he thought insistently.
In truth, neither Ranma nor Akane were the sixteen-year-old teenagers they had been several years ago at the start of their engagement. Perhaps “mature” was too generous a term to describe them now, but the bickering had gradually given way to something more akin to understanding, a softness in their interactions that got harder to hide as time passed. Akane now reacted less impulsively, Ranma often took a few extra seconds to think before he spoke, and the result was a unique intimacy that had only continued to grow. Ranma didn’t think he could stand one more interruption keeping them apart, not when they’d finally stopped toeing the line and had crossed into something more intentional.
And then today had happened, possibly setting them back irreversibly.
Why was it always like this? A rare moment when their relationship seemed to inch forward, then an unwelcome intrusion halting progress and leading to denial. The only problem was, Ranma was finally done with denial. She had died. He had felt her lifeless in his arms, and he was done pretending he didn’t want to be with her. It was just too easy to fall into old, defensive habits like hurling insults, especially when everyone in Nerima was either trying to kiss him or kill him, often with equally devastating consequences. And now, he had probably pushed her away for good because his big, dumb mouth couldn’t stop itself from spouting off. He wouldn’t hesitate to die for her, but he was somehow too much of a chicken to stand up for her. How stupid was he?
And it wasn’t just him. The more he thought about it, the more stupid and reckless their decision seemed to be. Wasn’t today enough proof that they needed to figure out their complicated lives first? It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to get married… eventually… when they were older, when he actually had time to think about it first, when things felt more settled. He and Akane had never properly dated. They hadn’t even kissed yet… And somehow, for a moment, they both thought they were ready to tie the knot? He couldn’t even stand by that decision under the first application of pressure, and he was supposed to be her husband? And, of course, there was the nagging voice in his head telling him she had finally just caved under the pressure to honor her obligations as his betrothed to get him the water he needed to cure his curse.
An obligation… Just what he didn’t want to be.
How was he supposed to put all this into words for her?
“Are you crazy?! I’m not marrying her!”
The words rang unpleasantly in his head, and he hated himself for having said them. Still, he wasn’t the one staying out all night; almost four in the morning, and nary an Akane in sight. The pigtailed boy lifted himself off his futon and padded stealthily to his fiancée’s bedroom. He had done it so often it was second nature to avoid the squeaky floorboard and the loose nail that had stubbed many a toe. He cracked the door open just enough to peek through with one cerulean eye, and…
Nope. Not there.
The pigtailed boy opened her bedroom door and slipped silently into the empty room. Her bed lay made and untouched, adorned with the same yellow bedspread she had been using since he’d met her. Unsure where the impulse came from, he sat down on her mattress and stared at her pillow, the indent where her head lay each night looking friendly and familiar. He tried to swallow against a frightened lump in his throat. If Shampoo had gotten a hold of her…
“Ah-ha!” A jubilant shout from the street outside ended Ranma’s reverie. He stood and spun around so quickly that he knocked his fiancée’s lamp off her nightstand with a flailing hand. Only years of martial arts training spared the lamp from shattering, as he had stuck out a foot and managed to catch the ceramic neck between his toes.
“What the…” Half expecting to see Happosai being hurled out of the neighbor’s window, Ranma ran from the room and sprinted silently down the stairs. The laugh echoed again as he yanked open the front door and assumed a battle stance.
He should’ve realized he wouldn’t have a chance to fully reflect on the day, not with the way his life usually was, like he was perpetually trapped in a shonen series. Akane’s latest kidnapper must be here at last, undoubtedly wielding a ransom request, another threat of engagement, or some unbeatable attack Ranma would have to learn to defeat to save her.
He leapt forward, prepared to throw the Chestnut Fist at whoever was attacking him in the middle of the night. After the day he’d had, of course he expected it, would’ve been surprised if he’d made it through the night without facing multiple attacks. But as Ranma crept forward in the shadows, nothing launched itself at him, no putrid smells engulfed his senses, and no sharp objects came flying toward his face. “Ryoga?” he asked the darkness. He received no response. “… Kuno?” Only a soft breeze answered. “Shampoo, then? Kodachi? How ‘bout you, Ol’ Freak… or Ghoul?” All was silent.
The laugh sounded again, and Ranma whipped around so quickly that his pigtail slapped him in the face. There, on the sidewalk, sat… “Akane?!” He’d been so intent on facing an attacker that he’d completely overlooked her presence outside of the gate. He relaxed momentarily, his whole body releasing more tension than he realized he was holding upon realizing she was safe, but then felt himself growing warm with anger, the combined effect of sleep-deprivation and emotional overstimulation finally taking its toll. “Akane, what the hell are you doing out here?”
Akane appeared not to have heard him. Her head lolled onto one shoulder, and with a flicker of lashes, her eyes slid shut. The soft rise and fall of her chest indicated that she had fallen asleep.
“Hey!” Ranma strode forward a few steps, irritated all over again at being ignored. “You come back here in the middle of the night and – ” But the tirade was cut short when the pigtailed boy finally noticed that something was amiss with his fiancée. Aside from the fact that she hadn’t yelled at him yet, one of her shirt sleeves was ripped, her hair was rumpled and flattened on one side, and some unsightly liquid had spilled all down her front, giving her an unkempt appearance. Anger quickly gave way to fear. He squatted down and shook her shoulder. “Hey,” he stated plainly, guilt again washing over him.
Akane opened bleary eyes and grinned affectionately when she registered Ranma’s face. “Ranmaaaaa!” she gushed, and, with apparent difficulty, she swung her arms around his neck and laughed into his shoulder. “You found me… you always do!”
“What the – !” The shock of her Shampoo-like behavior rather more than the force of her embrace nearly rendered him off-balance. A wild windmill motion of the arms helped him right himself. “Are you crazy?!” A brilliant flush blossomed on his face, and he felt his mind, previously so fraught and frantic, go blank.
Akane merely nuzzled the crook of his neck. “I was trying to get through this gate here, but…” she glanced over at it and sighed heavily. “It’s just… it’s… s’too far away.”
Just as he disbelievingly followed her gaze to the gate two feet away from where they sat, she suddenly leaned against him with her full weight once more, and Ranma again struggled momentarily to keep his balance in a squat position while avoiding touching her unnecessarily. “H-hey!”
But she ignored him. “You always smell so good.” She inhaled deeply against his neck and sighed contentedly. “And I love seeing you without a shirt…” She trailed off, but her hands roamed unabashedly over his bare back and torso.
He could feel the blush reaching his hairline. What the heck was he supposed to say to that? And for another matter… what was this… this… lusty thing she was doing? Another Amazon mushroom? Another piece of magic jewelry? A pill? A curse? An imposter? A ploy?
The sense of urgency returning, Ranma managed to retrieve his grip on reality and gently stilled Akane’s hands. “Where are Yuka and Sayuri?” he finally asked.
The blue-haired girl withdrew her arms and looked up at him. After a prolonged delay and some difficulty focusing on his face, she gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Ionno, left ‘em at the last bar with some guys.”
It was then that Ranma caught the unmistakable scent of alcohol as she lowered her head back to his shoulder. Was it really that simple? “What kind of skeevy place – How much did you drink?” Trying to ignore the goosebumps running up his spine from her exhalations against his nape, he grasped her by the shoulders to steady her and frowned as he studied her face.
She gazed back through half-lidded eyes and pouted slightly, trying her best to concentrate. “Hm…” She started counting on her fingers, mumbling to herself.
Ranma watched her drunkenly reach “seven” before he’d had enough. “Well,” he said matter-of-factly, “time to get you to bed.” Without warning, he stood abruptly, Akane in his arms bridal style. She clutched at his bare shoulders to maintain her drunken balance as he walked but didn’t protest. His worry had given way largely to annoyance. Akane was in no state to discuss the day’s events. He’d just have to get her tucked in, brood for the rest of the night, and hope she’d be capable of holding a conversation in the morning if they were lucky enough to have a moment to themselves.
He wasn’t hopeful.
He took the stairs to the second floor of the house three or four at a time, and the leaping motion caused Akane to whoop and giggle afresh. “Shhhh!” he hissed urgently once he reached the landing. The last thing he needed was for a drunk father to catch them and wake up the entire house; every last wedding crasher would probably be back on site within the hour.
“Uh-oh… Sorry!” she covered her mouth with her hands apologetically, eyes wide. If Ranma hadn’t been so busy being annoyed and frustrated, he would have found the pose quite cute. Then she leaned in to whisper, “’m just thinking…” she trailed off.
“Hmm?” Ranma was only half listening, concentrating on getting quietly to her room.
“If we were actually married… it’d be our wedding night.”
That caught his attention. He even trod on the creaky floorboard he’d managed to avoid countless times before. He felt as if his legs had turned to concrete, and he stood rooted to the spot, Akane still in his arms. She chortled again, but he was too distracted to shush her.
Of course, his mind had gone there before. But only ever in the moments before drifting off to sleep or before opening his eyes after waking, on reflection after the rare occasion he had held Akane close and could recall her curves and softness in his mind afterwards. Safe and private thoughts. Never had this topic been broached seriously with another person, let alone the one around which his fantasies centered, the person currently in his arms. But surely this was just the alcohol talking. It’s not like she would actually try and –
“Should we kiss?”
The question caught Ranma so off-guard that he forgot to whisper and almost dropped Akane on the floor. “What – !? Are you crazy?”
She blinked at him, looking surprised in a sloshed but endearing sort of way. “Um… no? You look like ya wanna.”
“Whaddaya mean I look like I – ”
“I mean, you get this look sometimes,” She rolled her eyes. It appeared to require a little more concentration than usual. “Y’know…” She motioned vaguely at his face and then uncoordinatedly at her mouth.
Had he been that obvious?
Of course he had. As much as he would probably deny it out loud, he had wanted her to notice, hadn’t he? And hadn’t she recently been meeting all of his not-so-secret glances with a “look” of her own?
They had reached Akane’s door, which Ranma nudged open with a toe. Grateful for an excuse to terminate the conversation, he set her down. Things were quickly veering into dangerous territory. “Okay, look, this is something we can talk about another – ”
“Good idea, s’better if we’re not out in the open. You know… seeeeecret.” She made an exaggerated “shushing” noise with accompanying hand gesture.
“Huh?” Her reply didn’t make sense.
But he quickly learned what she meant. Without warning, Akane positively lunged forward and placed a hand behind his neck, trying to bring their faces closer together. It was hard to say whether the force behind her movement was due to intention or lack of coordination.
“Woah! Hang on, you don’t wanna do this.” His hands shook slightly with nerves as he grabbed her by the shoulders and pried her off himself.
But Akane didn’t seem to have heard him. “Uh-huh, I really wanna,” she protested. She tried to pull him toward her again, and this time she got close enough to plant a poorly aimed kiss onto his jaw.
“Stop it, will ya!” Ranma – now positively bright red – promptly disentangled himself. The spot where she’d kissed him burned. He edged away from her but kept a close enough distance so he could catch her if she started to lose her balance; she had swayed ominously several times since he had set her down.
But Akane apparently didn’t notice that her proprioception was impaired. Her brow furrowed, her lips pursed, and she glared at him. “Right.” Her voice took on a steely tone, the most sober it had sounded thus far, and she crossed her arms. With her familiar glare, she looked more recognizable as the “Akane” he knew in this moment than she had the entire day. “’Course you won’t,” she said icily. “Not with me, anyway.”
He frowned in response, the irritability that had been bubbling just under the surface all day now coming to the forefront. “Don’t do that.” He knew from experience that arguing with a drunk person was fruitless, but he was beyond caring, not when he’d spent all day stifling his pent-up feelings, thinking with mixed regret and relief about what might have been, not when she was right there in front of him practically inviting him to spar.
“Don’t do what?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth. This is about earlier, you know, when I said I wouldn’t marry you. This is you trying to get back at me for that, isn’t it?”
“What’re you gonna do about it, huh?”
“We ain’t kissin’!” he said, side-stepping her question. He would hate it, she would hate it, looking back and realizing that it took a drunken hookup to lead to… what, exactly? Another reason for the rest of the world to come after them? “Not tonight.”
The air between them grew oppressively thick. Ranma saw Akane bristle, and he was sure she was about to rear back to slap him until –
“Fine. Then just go, will ya?” She turned to face the wall, showing him her back.
Ranma frowned. “I’m not leavin’.”
“But if you’re not going to – ”
“It’s not about that, stupid.” Why wouldn’t the blush just stay down? “I can’t leave you here alone, not when you’re this drunk. You might hurt yourself.” He waited a minute for her to reply, and when she neither turned nor spoke, he sighed. “Just stay here, I gotta grab something downstairs.” He didn’t really trust her to stay put, but he would only be gone for a minute.
With a hesitant glance at her over his shoulder, he exited her room and headed to the kitchen. The buzzing in his brain had dulled his thinking, but somewhere in there he was able to remind himself that it was all the alcohol talking, that there was no point in taking anything she said personally. Still, holding her, feeling her hands on his skin… that had all been real.
He returned quickly with a glass of water in one hand and a stainless-steel pot in the other. The sight that met his eyes when he returned made him nearly drop both. Akane had managed to disrobe down to her bra and underwear and was blinking back at him through the darkness, her dress clutched in her hands, too confused by her drunken haze to figure out what to do next. The look on her face clearly read, “help,” and by all accounts she had no recollection of the argument they’d almost just had.
Blushing afresh yet again, Ranma stalked rigidly to her dresser, pulled out the first thing with sleeves he could find, and thrust it at her without making eye contact. “Here,” he said gruffly. He kept his eyes averted as a faint rustling sound behind him indicated that Akane was getting dressed. When he turned around, she was plucking at the hem of an undershirt he recognized as his own.
That was almost worse than just the underwear.
“I’on’t think thissis mine…” she said in a slightly slurred voice.
“Uh… yeah…” he managed blankly. Kasumi must have mixed up some of the laundry by accident.
She continued to stare dazedly at him, swaying slightly on the spot. “Now what?” she asked.
Ranma gave himself a little shake. “C’mon,” he mumbled, and feeling as though he was moving rather stiffly and unnaturally, he ushered her toward her bed with only minor protests.
“H-hey!” she managed, with some traces of indignation, as he tucked her in tightly, positively trapping her arms at her sides. She struggled for a moment, grunting in her efforts to escape, but relented fairly quickly. “Ok, ok, jeez, jus’ go now,” she grumbled.
Ranma gritted his teeth and bit back a retort; getting her to see reason at this point would be about as easy as filling a bathtub using a vegetable strainer. “I told ya, I ain’t leaving you here like this.” Before his tired mind had time to process what he’d implied, Akane managed to extricate one of her arms from her comforter.
“Fine! Then I’ll leave!”
Ranma forced her to lie back down when she sat up. “Stop messing around, will ya?” He tucked her in tightly again and sat beside her on the bed, placing her effectively between himself and the wall with limited options for escape. He folded his arms, huffing when she turned her back on him again, cursing. He spent a while glaring at her back until her breathing finally slowed down and her muscles relaxed. He felt his jaw unclench as he continued to stare at her. Yep, she was definitely as messed up about the day as he was.
Several minutes later… “Ranma?”
He jumped, thinking she had fallen asleep. “What is it?” he asked irritably.
“I…” She sighed and with a rustle of sheet rolled over to look at him, eyes wide and shining in the moonlight filtering in through her window. “You know I love you, right?”
The words were barely audible, but Ranma’s heart pounded wildly in his ears and against his rib cage. He gulped, hardly daring to believe it and knowing that, given her current state, it was silly to hope. “… Y-yeah, I know,” he managed to croak, but it was with a much gentler tone.
“I love you,” she mumbled again.
If he hadn’t been so on edge, he might’ve missed it the second time. “… Go to sleep, Tomboy,” he replied before he let himself get too optimistic.
She yawned widely. “Fine.” She faced the wall again and said no more for the rest of the night, while Ranma sat staring at her silhouette and wanting so badly to curl up next to her, hold her close, and fall asleep to the scent of her shampoo and forget the torment of the last twelve hours.
He gulped.
Knowing full well he was perfectly capable of dragging himself over to his own room or to the floor of hers, he made the conscious decision to nestle closely up against her, place a trembling arm around her waist, and rest his chin on the top of her head, pressing his chest snugly against her back. She breathed deeply, and a small hand found its way into his. A content noise sounded in the back of her throat, sending pleasant vibrations through his body. For the first time since coming back from China, he felt himself fully relax.
She was so soft and warm. And she fit perfectly against him.
It was new and foreign… And it felt right.
He knew, come morning, they would both have to face reality. The suitors and the fiancées and the rivals and the chaos would all come intruding back into their world. But for now, his arm tightened around her, and he inhaled deeply, wanting to savor a few uninterrupted moments before sunrise.
Author’s Note: This story will be in two parts. Will post the second part as soon as it’s finished!