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“Congratulations!” the small crowd clapped as the bride and groom entered the hall. The ceremony at the temple had been more reserved, a smaller circle invited, but now half of Nerima had found itself clapping at Mariko Konjo and her husband, Tatewaki Kuno.
When the economic bubble burst, families with new money like the Konjos had been one of the first one affected. Their investments crumbled, their businesses closed, their bank accounts shrunk. Old money, like the Kunos, were unaffected. People like the Tendos, who had never had money to begin with, simply sighed and kept on struggling.
Akane sighed while watching Mariko, in her third wardrobe change of the evening, twirl around her crying husband. He just seemed so happy he couldn’t contain it, just like she remembered upperclassman Kuno being from their high school days. Mariko seemed to have grown into a supportive and sweet young lady.
“That could have been you,” Nabiki teased her sister.
“Right, didn’t he say he was open to concubines back in high school? You still got a chance, Akane” Ranma teased, digging into his fifth plate of food.
“Shut up, both of you,” Akane said, crossing her arms. Her dress was a little too tight on her, something she had bought years ago and never dared to wear before. She felt like she was in costume. “I hate it when we get together and you guys gang up on me”.
“We don’t gang up on you,” Ranma and Nabiki said in unison.
Akane glared at them, and then went back to looking at Mariko Konjo with a little bit of envy over a wedding party she never ended up having. It was easy to get lost in the chatter around them, the music, the food and drinks.
“She’ll get over it” Nabiki patted Ranma on the shoulder lightly. “Weddings always bring old emotions back into the surface”.
“Well, we’re already at rock bottom, so we’ve probably seen them all bubble up already” Ranma shrugged, finishing his plate and pushing it away.
“It’s not that bad, is it?” Nabiki smiled at him.
“I’m used to it” he said.
“Don’t normalize it” Nabiki scolded him. “That’s not healthy”.
“Don’t use your college knowledge on me,” he narrowed his eyes.
“Why not? Anything goes,” Nabiki answered.
Moments later, popular 80's kayōkyoku music filled the air. The bride and groom danced, kissed and laughed all around the hall. Some other guests were dancing too, although most had taken to excessive drinking and raucous laughter in their assigned seating. Akane had moved tables and sat next to Kasumi, who was watching her long-time boyfriend (he was still gathering the courage to ask for her hand) Dr. Tofu balance plates on a chopstick held between his front teeth.
“That could also’ve been you,” Ranma said.
“Hm?” Nabiki hadn’t been paying attention, so she followed his gaze to the spectacle provided by the doctor and how both Kasumi and Akane seemed to laugh with him, not at him, which was incomprehensible to Nabiki. She turned to Ranma. “Balancing the plates, or being stuck watching him do it?”
“I mean married to Kuno. That could’ve easily been you, too” Ranma said.
Nabiki laughed. “So? I could have been you, more than anyone else here. You’re a splash of cold water away from ruining this wedding”.
“You’re always too good at changin’ the subject” Ranma put his elbow on the table unceremoniously, and held his head on his palm. “You think ‘bout it?”.
“What’s ‘it’”? Nabiki said.
“Marriage.”
Nabiki leaned back on her chair. “No”.
“No?”
“Are you deaf?” She laughed. “I said no”.
Ranma looked at her. Nabiki raised her eyebrows, as if she was asking him what he was looking at, but Ranma didn’t look away like he might have done when they were teens. So Nabiki ignored him, letting her gaze move from guest to guest. People she used to know. People she used to see daily. People whose names she had begun to forget.
She didn’t regret leaving. She wasn’t that far away, after all, not even leaving Tokyo Prefecture. But she had left, all the same, and put a healthy amount of distance between herself and the memories she had made in Nerima. Instead of college and living at home, like most people had expected of her, she had chosen work and a small apartment in the city center. Instead of coming home to Kasumi’s homemade dinner, she boiled water for her instant noodles most weekdays. It was a struggle, but it was fun, too. It had been freeing. What little money she had she spent it on herself, on small luxuries like any Japanese office lady.
“Her life must be so good now,” Nabiki said, mostly to herself, but she knew Ranma was listening. Mariko kissed her husband on the lips, giggled, and changed her ruby red necklace for a jade one so it would match her new wardrobe change. “Can you imagine? Just… not having to do anything at all every day? Someone giving you food and shelter, and you can just…”
Ranma laughed. “Yeah. I remember. It’s pretty sweet”.
Nabiki was taken aback. She laughed too when she realized he had experience under the Tendo roof during his teenage years. “We could be his concubines, it’s never too late” she said, pointing at Kuno with a sharp movement of her jaw. “You could upgrade”.
“I’m good,” Ranma said.
“Are you?” Nabiki asked, and she watched him freeze. It was barely there, a flicker, but she saw it. He thought about it and hesitated. His smile was fake now, she could still tell.
Ranma had turned twenty recently, a new adult. Him and Akane had skipped the coming-of-age ceremony that winter. Nabiki wondered what that meant. She had always liked wearing furisode and kimono for special occasions, especially because they were her mom’s. Nabiki wasn’t sure how or why, but out of the three Tendo girls, she was the only one who ever wore her mom’s small kimono collection, despite being the less traditional one. They never said it out loud, but they were hers now. It was as if they had always been, and there was no need for discussion about that.
“Ranma,” Akane walked over. “Dr. Tofu is a little too drunk, Kasumi wants to take him back to his clinic. Come help."
“Sure,” Ranma said, getting up. A hand on his sleeve stilled him. He looked down, Nabiki was grabbing his arm.
“I don’t think so, sis” Nabiki said. “Why don’t you take him?”
Akane blinked, surprised. “I mean, I could” she said, softly. “I just thought I’d ask Ranma—“
“It’s decided, then” Nabiki smiled. “You can take him, and Ranma can stay a little longer. Right?” She looked at Akane, ignoring Ranma on purpose but not letting go of his arm. “You can just let Dr. Tofy sleep it off, that’s a grown man you and Kasumi both are babying just because he had a few drinks,” she added with a little bitterness.
“Don’t be mean, sis” Akane said, sighing. “See you both at home, then” she smiled at her sister, and then turned to her perpetual fiancée. “Don’t get kidnapped by Kodachi, Ranma” she added jokingly, since Kodachi had moved to Hawaii with her father years ago, as she turned around to leave. Kasumi was holding Dr. Tofu up, his face red and his glasses barely clinging to his face.
Nabiki let go of his arm. Ranma sat back down.
“What was that about?” He asked.
“We didn’t even ask you,” Nabiki observed, grabbing a cream puff from a passing waiter’s tray nonchalantly. “If you wanted to leave or stay. Neither of us asked, did you notice?”
Ranma shook his head, confused.
“It’s a little weird, Ranma-kun,” she said thoughtfully. “How little agency you have nowadays. Or has it always been like this?”
“I do have agency!” He said, flustered. “You think I’m just bossed around every day? I do what I want”.
Nabiki laughed, sincerely, and startled him. She looked at him, her voice melodious and soft. He expected it to be more mocking, but somehow it sounded honest.
“I dunno what you’re laughing about” he mumbled, almost pouting.
“Sorry” she wiped an invisible tear from the corner of her eye. “I literally showed you how you’re just letting others decide what you do, and you’re still in denial. It’s kinda funny”.
“What d’ya mean?” He asked.
“I don’t think you’ve done something you want for a while,” Nabiki said. “Why are you still living at home?”
“I have to marry Akane and inherit the dojo,” he said simply, looking at Nabiki like she had amnesia or something. “You know this, Nabiki”.
“Do you want to inherit a dojo?” Nabiki asked.
Ranma shrugged. “Sure, why not”.
Nabiki looked at him, half upset and half surprised. Ranma didn’t seem to notice how bad that sounded. She looked away, nodding slightly to herself as she processed the information, letting the bitterness dissolve with another bite to the cream puff.
The party went on, people got quieter, tired, drunker. Nabiki had a cup of black coffee, Ranma had green tea instead. Mariko and her husband cut a huge white cake, the slices perfectly cut by Kuno’s expert hand. Ranma had four slices before Nabiki could finish her first, but she kept eating well after he had found himself full.
“Gotta go,” Ranma said, his hands slapping the table softly. “Your sisters haven’t come back and I should go check on ‘em.”
Nabiki looked at him curiously. “Akane said ‘see you at home’,” watching Ranma get up from his seat. “If you want to leave, just say so.”
“I don’t really have anything else to do here,” Ranma said simply. “I’m gonna go say bye and take off.” He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder at the main table with the newlyweds. “Wanna come with?”
Nabiki sighed and got up, hands running down the creases on her long dress. She supposed she had run out of things to do at the Kuno-Konjo wedding as well, after all.
They walked up to the bride and groom’s table, bowed slightly, wished them good fortune, and said their goodbyes.
The air outside was crisp and fresh, and the streets had that quiet eerieness of the late evening. Ranma walked on and Nabiki touched his arm before he could get too far ahead of her.
“Wait, I can’t walk in these heels” she said, crouching carefully so her dress wouldn’t bunch up uncomfortably, her leg spreading out from under the high slit.
“Oh, want me to carry you?” Ranma asked.
Nabiki looked up at him and laughed softly. “No” she said, her voice melodically entertained. “Is that what you do with Akane? You carry her home when her feet hurt?”
Ranma blushed. “Dunno. Sometimes?” he offered as an answer.
“So romantic,” she said, pulling a pair of folded flats from her purse. “I’m not that helpless” she said, taking off her heels and putting on the flats. She stood up, three inches shorter than before, and smirked. “Let’s go”.
They walked in silence, Ranma watched her quietly. Nabiki’s hands were busy: one hand held her dress up so the hem wouldn’t touch the ground, the other had the purse hanging from her wrist and the heels dangling by her fingertips.
“What are you thinking about?” Nabiki asked.
“Nothin’” he said, quickly, almost without consideration.
“Just tell me,” Nabiki sighed. “Take a risk,” she teased him “I won’t bite”.
Ranma grinned. “What about extortion?”
“Depends on how unkind your thought was” she replied with a smirk.
“Fine. I’ll risk it” he said. “I was thinkin’ about how I feel like, a few years ago, you would’ve made me carry all that for you”.
Nabiki looked down at her hands. “Yeah, past me was very smart”.
“And I was wonderin’ why”.
“Why was I smart?” Nabiki frowned.
“No, why aren’t you makin’ me carry your stuff for you now. Or why aren’t you makin’ me carry you”.
“You’re wondering a lot,” Nabiki observed.
Ranma shrugged.
“Well, I don’t want you to carry me. I don’t object to a princess carry, but this isn’t the time or the place.” Nabiki sighed, looking at Ranma’s curious gaze from the corner of her eye. “And I’m not making you carry my stuff because nowadays I don’t want to ask all the time.”
“What do you mean?” Ranma asked.
Nabiki stopped and he stopped as well. “I prefer to be asked. Offered” she said quietly, even though this was important to Nabiki. She didn't point out that she was implying something, instead she looked ahead, taking a turn. Ranma stopped, watching her curiously.
“Your house is over there,” Ranma said, pointing in the opposite direction.
“I know where it is. I grew up here. I’m not going home yet,” Nabiki smiled softly. “Let’s chat elsewhere” she walked on.
They walked in silence, Ranma following a few steps behind her. Nabiki seemed at ease, looking around her childhood neighborhood with something that was half curiosity and half nostalgia.
“Do you miss Furinkan?” Ranma asked.
“School?” Nabiki looked at him with a raised eyebrow from over her shoulder.
“No, the Furinkan neighborhood. Nerima, the district. Do you miss it?”
“Sometimes,” Nabiki looked ahead at a small children’s park. It was only a swing set, a water fountain shaped like an elephant, monkeybars and a slide. “But I have a whole life out there already,” she sat on one of the swings.
Ranma went straight for the monkeybars. She watched him do little tricks: swinging on one hand, pirouetting, lifting himself up with two fingers until he sat on the horizontal bar.
“You used to impress our classmates with that,” Nabiki remembered.
“It’s not impressive anymore?” Ranma asked, with a smile.
“Depends on who you’re trying to impress. It doesn’t really work on me,” she shrugged. She put her bag and shoes on one swing, and sat on the other. “Sorry.”
“Oof, tough crowd.”
A small silence grew between them, Nabiki wondered if she should speak her mind or let the evening end in this harmless interaction. But she had been thinking about it since she had returned home, and the question had traveled from her head all the way to her throat, getting lodged in there. The only way out was saying it.
“Do you ever resent me for it?” Nabiki asked.
“Huh?” Ranma asked, but Nabiki didn’t repeat herself. He had heard her. “Resent you for what?”
“Not choosing you,” Nabiki said.
Ranma took a deep breath, watching the sway of Nabiki’s swing as if it was the pendulum of a clock, counting down the seconds of his hesitation.
“Sometimes,” he stole her answer from earlier, tone and all. But the rest of his response was more sincere. “I think about it sometimes. Wonder if we’d be at the Tendo dojo, or if you would have taken me with you, or somethin’ else entirely.”
“We would definitely not be at the Tendo dojo,” Nabiki said. “If it makes you feel any better, I wonder sometimes too.”
Ranma was taken aback by her admission, slightly frozen on top of the monkeybars, his balance faltering for a second.
“The thing is, Ranma,” she spoke softly, but Ranma could hear her clearly, “I don’t regret not choosing you when you first arrived, and I don’t regret not taking you with me when I left home. But I hate that you just… didn’t leave. You didn’t follow. You watched me go, and stayed.”
It sounded a little bitter, even when Nabiki had tried to coat it with cold detachment. Ranma remembered how she used to talk to him sometimes, hiding her hurt or her joy behind a layer of ice. He understood now that she did this to protect herself, not to deprive him of the knowledge of her feelings. Those were plain to see for anyone who cared enough.
“Would you have wanted me to follow you?”
“Not necessarily. But I would have wanted you to do something, anything. Except stay.” Nabiki smiled at him, but there wasn’t any warmth there.
“I didn’t have a choice,” he said, softly.
“Don’t piss me off,” she warned.
“I didn't,” he insisted.
Nabiki frowned and seemed to consider her options. She could let him be wrong, believe whatever he had chosen to believe a long time ago, or speak her mind. Even if it tore whatever fragile peace they had been able to build. Nabiki strongly believed in letting people be ignorant, be wrong, not meddle unnecessarily. But this was Ranma, and she felt like he was owed some knowledge.
“You always have a choice, Ranma. You could have ended the engagement. You could have done it years ago, you could have done it tonight. No one is forcing you… you would have noticed if you fought back.”
Ranma flinched, his pride as a martial artist now bruised. Nabiki found it interesting: Ranma seemed more affected by the choice of words than the content and meaning. He had been unchallenged for so long in her absence. He was a big fish in a little pond and now a shark had been thrown back in.
“You callin’ me a coward?” Ranma asked.
“In some aspects, yes. Sure.” Nabiki looked at him, waiting for a raised voice. The insults she had often heard him use against Akane to shield himself from valid criticism. Ranma didn’t do any of that.
“I don’t agree,” he said. “Stayin’ behind is bravery, too. Doin’ what’s right, even if it costs you, is bravery”.
“You’re too self-sacrificing. Who does it benefit? My sister, who’s been engaged to you for almost a decade and you still haven’t even proposed to her? The dojo, where no one truly comes to train?” Nabiki sighed. “If you were brave, you would have left. You would have found me; or found yourself. Instead, you pretend like you’re being bound by promises you never made.”
“I’m not like you, Nabiki. I can’t just leave everyone behind”.
“That’s fine” she said. “But if you don’t leave people behind, it means you didn’t advance. You didn’t move on. And I know you would have liked to, Ranma. You said so yourself”.
Ranma blushed, and didn’t speak.
“You think about how nice it could have been to live with me in a tiny cramped apartment in central Tokyo. To work a normal job, to go out on weekends to try new things. You would have loved it. It would have been new, domestic, and fun. Instead, you’re living the same life you had when you were fucking sixteen”.
“You know what?” Ranma said. “Fuck you” he smiled through it.
“Fuck you too, buddy” Nabiki smiled back.
“I’ve always hated it when you’re right,” Ranma said.
“And it happens all the time, too, so that’s rough,” Nabiki added.
“It’s too late now, I guess” Ranma sat down on the swing next to her.
“Why? Have you died?” Nabiki asked.
Ranma chuckled. “No, but how can I leave now? You’ve moved on so far ahead I can’t reach you. And I’ve wasted Akane’s time for so long it seems cruel” Ranma said.
“So? Be cruel.” Nabiki shrugged.
“I can't,” Ranma said.
“Oh, believe me, you can,” Nabiki chuckled, knowing. “You’ve said the cruelest things to Akane I’ve ever heard someone say,” Nabiki said.
“I was sixteen,” Ranma defended himself, uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean any of that.”
“I don’t think it matters whether you meant it or not. You said it. She heard it.” Nabiki sighed and looked at the night sky. “Leaving here wouldn't be cruel. I know you love her, but you don’t love her the way you love me.”
He looked at her, feeling guilty and uncomfortable, and then he followed her gaze up at the stars.
“Do you want me to?” Ranma asked.
“Finish the sentence,” Nabiki said quietly.
“Do you want me to follow you?” He watched the sky, even when he wanted to look at her.
Ranma heard Nabiki sigh and stand up from the swing.
“You have to make your own decisions, Ranma,” she said. “I know it would be easier if I told you ‘yes, of course, abandon your fiancé and come with me! I will give you a new life!’, but I can’t do that.”
“You don’t make promises,” Ranma remembered, and looked at her. He was almost startled to see her looking at him, focused, sincere, attentive.
“I sure don’t. But you know that saying…? ‘Fortune favors the brave’?” Nabiki gave him a tiny smile.
Ranma scoffed with a half-smile. “I’m not a coward, Nabiki,” he insisted.
“We’ll see. It’s late, and I’ve said enough,” she stretched out an arm toward him. “Ready to go back home?”
“Yeah” he jumped off the monkey bars. He was about to take her hand when Nabiki moved it away.
“Nu-uh, I don’t hold hands with engaged men,” she laughed, walking ahead. She didn’t bother to look back at him, as usual, Nabiki didn’t need him to follow her. But she would like it if he did.
Ranma exhaled, and moved forward.