Chapter Text
"You idiots, the Nanniichaun!"
The barrel of Nanniichuan sailed in a graceful arc over the flurry of flailing limbs. Ranma watched its course in horror, body still moving, but now in the wrong direction. He twisted in mid-step and lunged towards the barrel, but by that time it was too late.
Everything seemed to go absolutely still for a moment. If Ranma had been in the frame of mind to notice his surroundings, he would have marveled over the fact that it was possible for this group could be in one room peacefully, even for a second. But he, like everyone else, was staring at the barrel.
Or rather, who it landed on.
"What—" said Akane, and she probably would have said more, had she not heard her own voice. Immediately, her hands flew up to her chest. After patting around for a moment she—oh, god no—he reached up to tip the barrel from his head. An undeniably handsome face that had considerably too much make-up on stared in horror at the dozens of faces staring back at him. Something inside of Ranma cracked straight down the middle as the barrel clattered behind Akane. For a moment, he and Ranma met eyes, then Akane wrenched his gaze away and fled from the room, skirts trailing ludicrously behind him.
Nabiki was the first to break out of her trance. "Oh, Akane." Though she was by far the closest to her little sister in this room, she was the only when who went bolting after him.
Two Halves Are One
Nabiki hesitated in front of Akane's room, the duck placard staring mockingly at her with one beady black eye. It was deceptively quiet. Nabiki cautiously tapped on the door, then jumped nearly a foot back when something in the room crashed hard enough to shake the entire house. Scowling at herself for her involuntary reaction, she cautiously pushed the door to Akane's room open.
The dress looked ridiculous on Akane's broad form. The laces she and Kasumi had painstakingly tied hung in shreds and the corset split at the sides. Akane was staring at himself in the mirror with a look of horrified fascination, tentatively examining his face with trembling fingers.
"I look so stupid."
Nabiki couldn't deny that. She cursed herself quietly, wishing she had the foresight to bring hot water. "It could be worse," she said optimistically, but couldn't offer any examples.
"How?! What can be worse than being turned into a boy on my wedding day?"
"Being turned into a boy on your wedding night?"
Akane spun around, shocked out of his own self-pity. Against his own will, his lips quirked up into a shivery smile.
"Come on, let's get you out of that dress." Nabiki went to her—sister, mentally calculating the ruins of the wedding dress. She turned figures over in her head; how much it would cost to repair the dojo, what the rental stores would charge for the ruined dress and tuxedo, all of this on top of how much they had already spent on the wedding. But Akane looked so miserable that for once Nabiki held her tongue. Besides, she knew of some girls who would pay a pretty price for pictures of Akane's new body.
The skirts fell around Akane's ankles, revealing the blue underwear that was now—oh. Nabiki turned around, not because she was embarrassed (her profession required a certain amount of detachment for the human body), but out of respect for Akane and the look of mute horror on his face at the sight of the cloth stretched over his new—appendage. Nabiki left the room as quietly as she came in.
Ranma was standing at the door, holding a steaming tea kettle in both hands like an offering but looking too nervous to proceed. The tuxedo was damaged irreparably; what again had made them think that this was in any way a good idea? But it had been Akane who had nervously interrupted their father and Mr. Saotome's shouji game, kneeling beside them with her head bowed.
"I'll marry him."
The stunned silence had almost immediately been followed by a maelstrom of activity. Within minutes, the pre-made invitations were flying through the streets of Nerima, despite Akane's desperate shouts of, "I didn't mean right now!"
In retrospect, they should have known better.
Ranma and Nabiki examined each other silently for a moment, before Nabiki held out her hand expectantly. As if this were a cue, Ranma shifted the kettle into one hand and dug around in his pockets for a few crumpled bills, which he deposited into Nabiki's hand without a thought.
"I meant the kettle, dummy," snapped Nabiki, but the yen still disappeared into her pocket.
"Oh! Oh. Um, I was hoping—" he trailed off, scratching the back of his head nervously. Nabiki blew her bangs from her eyes in frustration.
"Jeez, the two of you. Listen here, Ranma, because I'm only going to say this once, free of charge." Never mind that she had already taken his money. "How will Akane ever know your intentions if you don't speak them clearly?"
"It's not like that!" Predictably, he was getting flustered. "Here, just take the stupid kettle. It's not like I was worried or anything."
Nabiki rolled her eyes and stepped around him. "Take it yourself."
Despite Nabiki's "encouraging" words, Ranma still couldn’t bring himself to knock on the door. It hadn’t escaped him that all of the current events, up to this point, had somehow involved Akane sacrificing something for Ranma, and that was tearing him up.
He had no idea what to say.
"'Hey Akane, welcome to the club?' Yeah, right. She'd tear me to pieces. 'Hey, Akane. Did you manage to save a little bit of that Nanniichuan? No? Well, can I wring some out from your wedding dress?'" Ranma smacked his head against the wall. "That's even worse than the first."
"Are you going to come in or what?"
The distinctively male voice coming from Akane's room made Ranma cringe, but gave him that necessary boost. Akane was standing in the center of the room, holding a towel high around his waist, as if he was actually going to wrap it around his chest before he changed his mind. He was smiling, but Ranma recognized it as the own brave smile he himself wore when faced with the ruins of Jusenkyo.
Ranma had prepared himself to see a guy wearing Akane’s face, but it still made something inside him clench painfully. He was slightly taller than Ranma, with broad shoulders and a tapered waist. His hair was now a shade lighter, with hints of copper that flashed in the light. What was the most disconcerting, however, was that Akane’s eyes were now green.
Ranma thrust the kettle towards him, looking down. "I brought you hot water."
Akane delicately took the kettle from Ranma, cradling it as if it were the water of life. Ranma understood.
"You're handling this well," said Ranma, somewhat surprised. He relived his own change on a regular basis, the first screams of his female form bouncing around the walls of his skull. Just thinking about it made the hairs on the back of his head stand on end. Maybe Akane was lucky, getting cursed while already completely saturated with knowledge about Jusenkyo. He turned to express these thoughts to him, but his tongue froze in his mouth.
Akane was staring down at the kettle in shock, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. Ranma normally had little sympathy for crying men, but this was Akane.
"Aw, come on Akane, don't cry. Change back. It'll make you feel better, I promise."
Akane's eyes narrowed in fury, sending a jolt of confused relief through Ranma. As usual, he had no idea what he had done to set Akane off this time, but it was a welcome change from the sheer terror and mortification that had not left his face since Ranma had entered the room.
"Ranma, you idiot. Of course I'm not going to change right now!"
"Why not? Do you like being a guy or somethin'?"
Ranma, who had been expecting the hit, was a little surprised by the power of it. Akane had the strength of a gorilla to begin with; it looked as if her male form just accentuated this particular trait.
"No, idiot. I'm just not going to change while I'm like this”—he jerked his hand towards his naked upper torso—"with you in the room."
Oh, of course. Heat rose to Ranma's cheeks, but because he was who he was, he said, "Nothin' I haven't seen before."
"Ranma, you pervert!"
Ranma wondered, as he was sent to the stars, if there was anyone else on this planet who was worse at expressing themselves than he was. As he landed in the cold koi pond, he decided that while Akane was a close second, he still took the cake.
Akane frowned at the hole in his ceiling, berating himself in a daze at his quick temper. He hated when he did that; it always made the nights so much colder. Sighing, he went back to his place in front of the mirror, cringing at the handsome face that winced back at him. There was still something distinctly feminine about his features, but there was no doubt that he was a male. He poked his well-muscled chest and snorted ruefully. At least he was well-built, though that was hardly a comfort.
The kettle was not nearly as hot as the ones that Ranma normally got dumped on him. It was a strange show of consideration. How does one thank another about something like that? "Thank you for not making the water too hot?" Akane snorted and dumped half the kettle over his head. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Familiar, yet now somewhat strange brown eyes looked back at her, and Akane realized that in her shock she hadn’t noticed that her male form had green eyes.
She rubbed her eyes in frustration, hating how the sting of tears wouldn’t go away, and quickly threw on a pair of pajama pants and a loose shirt. Then she glared up at the hole.
"I know you're up there, Ranma. You better not be peeping."
It had occurred to her, once, that Ranma's preferred place on the roof had always been directly over her bedroom. Countless nights she had woken up to the sound of her ceiling creaking, which of course meant that Ranma was stomping around up there on purpose to annoy her since he could consciously walk silently. She had long ago chalked it up as him being a pervert, but—
The red-haired girl jumped back through the hole, holding her pants up and looking somewhat abashed. It was Akane's turn to hold the kettle out to Ranma.
"I wasn't peeping," said Ranma sulkily as she took the kettle. "You—saved some?"
"Just take it."
Ranma upended the rest of the water over herself and Akane almost laughed. Now they were a matching pair. The laugh choked off into a sob and Akane buried her face in her hands. To her surprise, strong arms wrapped around her and Ranma clumsily patted her shoulder. She let him, crying out all of her fury and horror. A part of her recognized that Ranma lived through this on a daily basis, but that just made her cry harder.
She pulled back only when she felt that she had cried herself out. Ranma looked so concerned that it nearly set her off again, but the damp spot on his shoulder made her want to laugh. Could that be enough to make him change? To make her change? She wondered if this was what shock was like.
It would probably be better if she sat down. Trembling, she dropped down on her bed. After a moment, Ranma sat down beside her.
"Of all times, it had to be on my wedding day," Akane mused, then frowned and corrected herself. "Our wedding day."
When Ranma didn't say anything, Akane turned to look at him. He was sitting perfectly still, staring down at his hands. "Were you really ready for it, Akane? Did you, um—" Akane noted with interest that Ranma was blushing to the roots of his hair. This, of course, made her blush, too.
"What, are you saying you didn't want to marry me?"
"That's not what I—jeez, Akane, why do you always havta make things even harder than they already are? I mean—" he held his hands up placatingly, as Akane prepared to pummel him again. "I mean, we're really young, yanno?"
Akane had been ready.
At least, she thought she was ready. But looking at Ranma now, she wondered just what she had thought marriage was. Up until now, everything had been a competition. Had she thought that by marrying Ranma, she would win? Or was she hoping for those distant memories she had of her family before her mother had died? Whatever it was, she knew—and perhaps always had known—that she was deluding herself.
"Maybe—maybe we could try to be friends?” she said. “I mean, I'm going to need all the help I can get right now, and—”
The rest of the words died in her mouth at the sight of Ranma. She had only seen that hopeful smile once, three years ago, when Akane had made that same offer to the red-haired girl that had burst into her life unexpectedly. It immediately made her blush.
"I'd like that."
They were sitting so close to each other, knees pressed together, and blushing like school children. Akane wasn't sure who leaned towards the other first. Hadn’t they just agreed to take it slow? And yet, she was drawn to Ranma, like she always was, like he had his own gravitational pull.
“Will this finally be it? Will they finally kiss?”
It took a moment for Akane to realize that that those questions hadn't been in her mind, but rather spoken from her own father through that damn microphone that popped out at the most inopportune times. Akane and Ranma immediately sprang away from each other, glowing with embarrassment.
Kasumi sighed, one hand to her cheek. "Oh my. I should really throw out that microphone."
"You do that, sis," said Nabiki, pocketing her camera with annoyance. She had been so close to winning a very profitable bet she had made with Kuno last year—vis-à-vis who would truly kiss Akane first, Ranma or Kuno? They had agreed that the nekoken stint had been void, since even Kuno could recognize that Ranma had not been in his right frame of mind. They had upped it by two thousand yen every month that went by without Akane being kissed, and the pool now sat at sixty thousand yen. Sometimes Nabiki wondered if Kuno's fervor came entirely from insanity, or if he was just worried about losing the bet to Nabiki.
Ranma was, unfortunately, unable to wring any Nanniichuan out of Akane’s wedding dress.
"Ranma, we need to get hot water right now."
"Well, Akane, in case you hadn't noticed, there's a black out and it's storming."
The venom in their voices negated any visible signs of affection, though had any of the usual suspects happened to overhear their conversation, perhaps not entirely incorrect assumptions would be made. They certainly looked the part of a very attractive couple, though it was a little odd that they were running at top speed in the middle of a thunderstorm.
Akane skidded to a halt, grabbing Ranma by the wrist. "No, you don't understand. We need to find hot water right now."
Ranma looked up at Akane, frowning. There was always the briefest second where she felt like she was looking at a stranger. Though she would bite off her own tongue before she said thatout loud. "Why?"
For some reason, this made Akane blush. He looked around, though no one was wandering the streets in this weather, then leaned forward and whispered, "I have to use the restroom."
"So? What's the big de—ohhh." Ranma's gut instinct was to tease Akane for his prudishness, but she remembered the first time she went to the bathroom as a girl, crouched shivering in the middle of a storm similar to this for a good ten minutes before she could do her business.
"Let's try Dr. Tofu's clinic."
Akane blinked in surprise. "What, you're not going to tease me?"
"Believe it or not, I understand."
"Oh." Akane looked down, scowling at Ranma's wrist (though he was the one holding her wrist, damnit), then dragged her towards Dr. Tofu's clinic.
He didn't drop her wrist.
"Hey, Akane," said Ranma lightly. "If you want to hold my hand, you could at least do it right."
Immediately, Akane flung Ranma's hand away from him, as if it were on fire. That hadn't been quite Ranma's intention, but she folded her arms behind her head and grinned slightly, liking the way Akane's ears were red. She had to admit, she was still feeling a little giddy at Akane's request. It wasn't quite a step up from what they were before, nor was it at all a step down, but Ranma wanted to be Akane's friend. To be honest, she wanted much more. But she was sure that would come in time.
Well, she was pretty sure.
Nabiki had said all those pretty words about 'speaking your intentions clearly' and all that crap, but it went both ways. Akane had never said that she lov—lik—cared about him. Or, well, he cared about her, in their current states. There was a considerable amount of circumstantial evidence, but nothing concrete. Come to think of it, it was all a little depressing.
Ranma stopped in midstep, scowling. That happiness at Akane's request to be friends was quickly fading into a gloom that could easily rival Ryoga's funks. When Akane said she had wanted to be friends, had she meant that she wanted to only be friends? She trudged slowly after Akane's rapidly retreating back, kicking water up in annoyance.
"Look, Ranma, I meant it when I said I had to go to the bathroom," Akane snapped, jogging back up to the sulking redhead and grabbing her hand. Ranma's eyes widened almost comically. She couldn't say she had many friends, but she was pretty sure that it wasn't normal to hold hands with them.
It wasn't like it was the first time they had held hands, but something still somersaulted in Ranma's chest.
Dr. Tofu's windows were lit, but by the way the shadows were dancing it was obvious that he was using candles. Akane and Ranma stopped at the entrance, Akane's hand starting to shake in Ranma's grip.
"Hey, it's okay," Ranma said quietly. She wasn't good at this sympathy stuff, but she had enough empathy to more than make up for her lack of compassion. "I know how hard this is—believe me, I know, but you're going to have to do this eventually."
Akane shook his head.
"Trust me, this kind of crap happens all the time. You just gotta adjust a little."
Akane shook his head more vigorously.
"Look, it could be worse."
"I really wish people would stop saying that," said Akane, resigned. "All right, how could this possibly be worse?"
"You could still be wearin' a girl’s uniform."
Akane looked at her, lips twitching slightly. "Okay, that would be worse."
One of the first things Ranma had done after Akane had reverted back to a woman was to offer her some of his clothing. Predictably, she hadn't taken that well, but for once in his life he had been able to talk quick enough to avoid her mallet. She tightened her grip on Akane's hand and tugged gently.
"Come on. Let's go home."
Back in the Tendo residence, Ranma leaned against the bathroom door, amusing herself by making her hands talk to each other.
"Daddy, what's the hold up?" said the right hand to the left.
"Well, son, I know we've been waiting out here for an hour, but some people are slower than others. Especially uncute tomboys."
"Maybe I could go faster if you weren't such a weirdo!" came Akane's muffled reply from the other side of the door.
"Daddy," said Ranma a little louder, "aren't the candles going to burn out if Mr Customer stays in there all night?"
"Well, son, I'm guessing Mr Customer will burn the place down before he gets anything done!"
It was still another twenty minutes before Akane finally left the bathroom, blushing furiously and scowling at Ranma. "Jerk."
"Tomboy."
"Was the running commentary really necessary?"
Ranma grinned widely. "Yes."
At that moment, the lights flickered on. Akane stared at them in disbelief.
"Welcome to my world," said Ranma, patting Akane on the shoulder as he rammed his forehead against the wall.