Chapter Text
She stared at the pigtail. The glimmer in her black hair was gone.
Her breasts were gone.
She looked down. Yup, there was a thing down there.
She looked up at his face again. It... looked similar to Ranma's, but clearly wasn't.
She slid the door closed, and turned to leave. Then, she remembered that Ranma was supposed to be in the furo. What... What had that pervert done to Ranma?
She opened the door again, and found him taking a step out of the furo. She didn't wait for him to react and threw a strong punch at his face. He jumped above her head, and landed to her side.
She turned, and whirled to kick at his stomach. He tried to take a step back, but found himself with too little space to dance around her strikes. She tagged him and mentally high-fived herself, but the victory died the second her leg refused to pull back. He kept his eyes shut, and threw her at the furo.
"Hey!" He exclaimed, raising one hand to cover his eyes, as he grabbed a towel from the floor with the other. "Sorry about this! But I saw what your punches can do to a wall!"
She gasped for breath. "I'm going to drown you!" She threw her arm at him, and he moved his head gracefully to avoid her. Her eyes glinted as she saw her opportunity and managed to grab his pigtail. "I got you now, you pervert!"
"What?" He managed to say as she dragged him back into the furo.
He struggled for a moment, but soon, he overpowered her and gasped for breath. "Why does every girl I meet try to kill me!?"
She moved a bit away from him, but found the furo too small. "Maybe because you're a pervert?"
"I was in the bath first!" He exclaimed. She blinked, noticing he was still covering his eyes. "You walked in on me!"
She blushed. "But, but Ranma was supposed to be here!"
"I'm Ranma!"
"Ranma is a girl!"
"Nu-huh! I just—" he blushed and lowered his hand, but his eyes were still closed. He fidgeted. "I just got cursed. Okay? Cold water turns me into a girl. I’m… I’m a man."
She looked around. There was no sign of anyone else in the bathroom, but Ranma's clothes had been outside. "Why do you keep your eyes closed?"
He blushed. "Well, you're... you're, you know. Naked."
She glared at him. "You're naked as well."
He opened one eye, "I'm sorry you found out like this. I wanted to tell you the truth."
“Hey, who said you could watch me naked!?” she said, and tried to get up, but slipped, and fell face first on his lap.
Her left boob somehow found its way to his hand. He tried to block a non-existent attack from her, and somehow, he squished.
“You per—” she started to say.
“Hey! I’m not a pervert!” he said as he did his best to move his hand away, only for her body to slip further onto his. “You’re the one throwing yourself at me!”
She tried throwing a punch at him, but he caught her fist. She tried to push past his hand, but he held firm. “Just… how freakishly strong are you?” She asked.
“Strong enough. Stop trying to behead me with a punch,” he whispered angrily.
She tried chopping at his shoulder, and he caught her with his other hand just as easily.
He glared at her. “Man, I thought you were cute, but you’re a deranged thug!”
“What?”
He blinked, still holding her wrists against his chest. "I mean… earlier, when you offered to be friends. When we laughed after our sparring session. You were cute. What happened to that girl?"
She froze. The fight drained out of her, replaced by a sudden, suffocating heat that had nothing to do with the bathwater. She looked him in the eyes. They were the same as the girl’s. They were entirely too close. She could feel his heartbeat hammering against her collarbone.
“Look, I’m going to let you go, but please, stop trying to kill me!”
“Akane, when are you going to be done?” Nabiki’s voice came from outside. “Quit hogging the bath! Ranma’s dad is here! Daddy wants us all here for this!”
Pure ice injected into Akane's veins. If Nabiki opened that door, her life was over. Dead. Buried.
The pigtailed boy frowned at the door. "Hey, what did I say abou—" his voice rose, entirely unbothered.
Panic seized her. She wrenched her right hand free and lunged to clamp it over his mouth.
He caught her wrist mid-air. Muscle memory. He thought she was striking him. He took a deep breath, his mouth opening to yell at the door. "I'm in here!"
She had no free hands. Nabiki's shadow fell over the bathroom screen.
Akane surged forward and smashed her mouth against his.
It was more of a headbutt disguised as a kiss. Their teeth clashed. In an instant, she had grown desperate, intending only to swallow his shout. He stiffened, a muffled shout dying in his throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the footsteps outside to recede, waiting for him to push her away.
He didn't push her away. The rigid tension in his shoulders broke. His grip on her wrists loosened, shifting down to hold her waist.
The panic melted into the steam. His lips tasted like mochi.
Without thinking, she leaned into him. She found herself in want of more.
-----
They sat on opposite ends of the low table. Akane stared intensely at her tea, her lips still burning. Ranma sat rigidly, his eyes darting everywhere except at her.
“Oh, he wants Akane!”
“Huh”
“Oh, definitely!”
Akane fidgeted, wanting to complain, wanting to scream that they were all crazy. She chanced a quick glance up and caught Ranma staring at her mouth. She immediately gritted her teeth and looked back down, her face burning.
The middle daughter patted her on the back, eyeing Ranma like a piece of meat at an auction. “This girl is always going on and on about how much she hates boys!”
“So, you're in luck! He's half-girl!” The eldest said with a big smile on her face.
Akane gripped her teacup. She thought of the steam, his hands on her waist, the sudden, terrifying shift in the bathroom. “I’m— I, ah— Fine,” she muttered to her tea in a low voice.
Ranma flinched like she had hit him. Panic flashed in his eyes. The trap was snapping shut. He suddenly bolted to his feet, nearly knocking over his cushion. “Goodbye!”
He spun on his heel and started power-walking toward the door.
His dad snorted. “Where are you going boy?”
“Back to China!” Ranma said, not slowing down, his hand reaching for the sliding door. “To find a way to change back for good. This is no time for fiancées!”
“I guess that’s fine,” the middle daughter said, her voice dripping with casual amusement. “Have your way with the girl in the bath, and run for the hills before you get hitched. That’s how it goes, right?”
The room went dead silent.
Ranma slowly turned around. He stared at the one named Nabiki, age 17, and knew right then that she would be a thorn in his side for as long as he lived.
Soun’s head snapped toward his middle daughter. “What did you just say?”
Nabiki winked at Akane. “Gotta say sis, I didn’t know you had it in you!”
Ranma opened his mouth, a frantic denial on the tip of his tongue. But as he looked at the Tendo patriarch, Soun's head seemed to physically swell, morphing into a towering, demonic visage of pure, unadulterated paternal wrath.
Ranma swallowed his words. It appeared he wouldn’t remain single for long. That, or he would be killed on the spot.
----
Once she had her fill of celebratory sake and was sent to her bedroom, which now featured a hastily taped sign reading “Akane + Ranma”, she felt her eldest sister’s hands heavy on her shoulders.
“Akane, dear, could I have a word before you go to bed?”
Akane eyed her own door. The boy from the furo was inside, probably looking forward to round two. Delaying that sounded like a brilliant idea.
She got dragged to Kasumi’s room. The moment they stepped inside, Kasumi closed the door with a definitive click.
“Look, Kasumi, I—”
The slap cracked through the quiet room before Akane even saw the hand move.
The warm sake buzz evaporated instantly. Akane stumbled back, her hand flying to her face. Her cheek burned like fire. “Did you just… slap me?”
“How could you be so stupid!?” Kasumi hissed. The gentle, motherly smile was entirely gone. “Of all the terrible things I dreaded you might do, this wasn't even on the list!”
“I didn’t plan for it!” Akane yelled, defensive. “What were you dreading I would do?”
“I thought you were a good girl!” Kasumi snapped, pacing the room like a caged animal. Suddenly, she was in Akane’s personal space again, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Do you use protection, at least? How many boys have you been with!?”
That hurt more than the slap.
“I haven’t been with anyone else! I am a good girl!”
Kasumi shook her head and sat on her bed. “How do you expect me to believe you when you jumped that boy before you even knew him for a day? Did he seduce you when you sparred together? Did you seduce him?”
“I didn’t even know he was a boy at the time!”
“Excuse me Akane, but from what Nabiki said, you clearly knew he was!”
Akane dropped onto the bed next to her. “I thought he had done something to girl-Ranma! So I went in to kick his ass!”
“Do you kiss every guy whose ass you want to kick?” Kasumi groaned, burying her face in her hands. “You have boys fighting over you at the gates every morning. Is this how you handle them? Have I been completely blind? Is that why they all fight for you?”
“Will you stop calling me a slut?”
“I haven’t called you a slut.”
“Not with those exact words!” Akane grabbed one of Kasumi’s decorative pillows, slammed it over her own face, and allowed herself to just scream into the fabric.
Kasumi let out a long, shaky breath. “Look. I am sorry if I’m overreacting. But you have to be careful now. Do you use protection?”
Akane lowered the pillow, staring at her sister like she had grown a second head. “Do I use what?”
“Protection. Do you have condoms for when you fool around with boys?”
She stared at her sister like she had grown a second head. “I do not fool around with boys.”
Kasumi stood, walked to her nightstand, and opened a drawer. She tossed a small, square box at Akane. “Here. Keep them.”
Akane caught the box before it hit her head, and stared at it like it was a live grenade. She swatted it away in disgust. “I don’t need that!”
“Do you want to get pregnant?”
“I’m not getting pregnant! I don’t need that because it was a one time thing!” She put the pillow back over her head and resumed screaming.
Kasumi quietly picked the box up from the floor and set it on the mattress next to Akane's leg. “Take it. If you don’t need it, fine. But if you are sharing a bed with your husband, you better use it.”
When Akane only answered with a muffled, wet hiccup, Kasumi’s rigid posture finally broke. She realized the tough martial artist was currently crying all over her pillowcase.
The eldest Tendo daughter sighed, her maternal instincts overriding her panic. She shifted closer and gently stroked Akane’s long hair. “There, there. You are strong, Akane. You will get past this.”
“How?” Akane sobbed into the padding. “I didn’t think—”
“Are you telling me the truth? Is this the first time you do something like this?”
Akane nodded frantically, not daring to lift her face away from the pillow.
“Okay…” Kasumi kept smoothing her hair. “Please excuse my harsh words. You’re just… you’re so young, and I never prepared you for something like this.”
“You didn’t think I was too young when you threw him my way, you decided for me that I was to marry him.”
“You volunteered first, little sister,” Kasumi replied softly, though her face pinched with immediate regret. She closed her eyes. “I thought that since you two were the same age, it would buy you time. I thought Dad would wait years before making it official.”
“Well, that didn’t happen!”
“Because you f—.” Kasumi stopped herself. She seemed to count to ten before resuming with a gentler tone. “If you hadn’t forced his hand, Daddy would have been content to wait until he was sure you cared for Ranma, and he for you.”
She bit her lip. “But you did force his hand. If word would have gotten around about what happened in the furo. It wouldn’t have hurt Ranma at all. But you…”
“I’m not a bad girl!” Akane said. “How can I be one if I’ve only been with one guy, and that guy happens to be my husband?”
“He wasn’t your husband until half an hour ago!”
“Stop calling me a slut!”
“I’m not calling you a slut!” Kasumi almost screamed at her. “Not right now at least. I’m saying that if you hadn’t gotten married, people would have said that you are one. People might still say it behind your back!”
“I don't care what people think! I know what I am!” Akane threw the pillow down, eyes red and puffy.
Kasumi massaged her temples, feeling a severe headache coming on. “I will take you to the doctor tomorrow after you come back from school.”
“I don’t want to go see Dr. Tofu!”
Kasumi looked at her with pity. “Not that kind of doctor, Akane.”
Akane stared at her for three seconds, realized what she meant, and grabbed the pillow to scream again.
----
Akane trudged back down the hall, Kasumi's warnings echoing in her ears. She stopped in front of her door, glaring at the hastily scribbled “Akane + Ranma” sign taped to the wood.
She took a deep breath, bracing herself. She didn't know what she was walking into. If he was sitting on her mattress expecting for her to be a demure wife and let him do as he pleased with her, she was going to throw him out the window. She curled her hands into tight fists and slid the door open.
A loud, rhythmic snore greeted her.
She blinked into the dim room. Her bed was completely empty, the covers undisturbed.
The snoring came from the floor. She stepped inside and looked down. Ranma had dragged a spare futon out of the closet and shoved it into the corner, as far from her bed as the small room allowed. He was sprawled out on his stomach, dead to the world, his pigtail draped over his eyes and a small line of drool pooling near his cheek.
Akane let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Her shoulders slumped, the fight draining right out of her. The terrifying, insatiable husband Kasumi had just spent twenty minutes warning her about smacked his lips and mumbled something about pork buns in his sleep.
She quietly closed the door and sat on the edge of her bed. She stared down at him in the moonlight for a long time.
Idiot, she thought, though the word lacked bite.
Tomorrow was going to be a nightmare, but for tonight, at least, she could just sleep.
----
“Why did you say that?”
“Say what?” he asked, balancing perfectly as he walked along the top of a cinderblock wall.
“That you didn't have time for this. That you wanted to go back to China.”
He hopped down, landing lightly in front of her. “Look. I like you. You’re cute.”
She blinked, her ears suddenly burning hotter than a grill. “Wha—?”
“But I’m a freak, right?” He kicked a pebble down the sidewalk, refusing to look at her. “Half-girl. That’s what Kasumi said. I’m not exactly prime husband material.”
“I didn’t…” She looked down at her shoes. “Yesterday, I didn’t know you were cursed.”
“Yes, and now, you know.” He said while gritting his teeth. “I don’t see you throwing yourself at me now, do I? Of course you wouldn’t, knowing about my condition. You didn’t need to marry me. Nabiki ruined your life.”
“My li—? You… If you hated being cursed so much, why didn’t you stay in China?” She asked quietly. “I mean, why didn’t you get the cure before coming into my life?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Crazy amazon tried to take my head off over some village rules. Then the guide lost the map to the Spring of the Drowned Man. It was a mess.”
She furrowed her brow. “Weird. One would think that the boy and girl springs would be the ones he’d know like the back of his hand. I mean, anyone who goes there can get cured by just jumping in the right spring, right?”
He scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, it was weird.” He realized she hadn’t stopped walking, and scurried until he was next to her. “But the guide also said that it’s dangerous to jump on a second spring too soon after getting cursed. So it wouldn’t have mattered either way.”
“Oh.” That didn't make a lot of sense to her, but he sounded miserable enough that she believed him. “So… about yesterday in the furo?”
“What about it?”
“You weren’t going to say anything to the families. You were going to let me hide it.” She stopped walking and looked at him. “Why?”
He accidentally bumped his shoulder into hers, then caught himself, stepping back. Now it was his turn to blush.
“I’m not gonna go bragging about it to my old man,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “It wasn't his business. It was… just between us. Until Nabiki opened her big mouth.”
“That’s… sweet of you, I guess.”
“Yeah?”
She smiled at him. But as they turned the corner, the sprawling campus of Furinkan High School came into view, and the smile died on her lips. A knot of cold dread formed in her stomach.
“Look,” she said, her voice dropping into a dead serious register. “There's something I have to do every morning. Can I trust you to stay completely out of my way? Pretend you don't even know me until we get to the classroom.”
He furrowed his brow, completely lost. “Why?”
“Because if they think I belong to anyone, it will get ugly.”
He nodded slowly, not trusting himself to speak without putting his foot in his mouth.
She curled an eyebrow, stepped onto her tiptoes, and planted a quick peck on the corner of his mouth before sprinting off ahead of him.
He watched her go for a second, touching his face, wondering what he had said to earn that prize. He decided he definitely needed more prizes like that.
But as he trotted after her, he noticed a stark shift in her body language. A moment earlier, she had been flustered, light on her feet. Now, her shoulders were rigid. Her fists were clenched. It was the exact same battle stance she had taken before trying to cave his face in yesterday.
He stopped. Up ahead, a massive mob of high school boys had barricaded the front gates, armed with bokkens, shinai, and sports equipment.
Without breaking stride, Akane threw her schoolbag backward. Ranma caught it on reflex. A split second later, she launched herself ten feet into the air, clearing the frontline of boys and coming down hard on a rugby player’s skull.
Ranma hopped up onto the brick pillar of the school gate and sat down, watching bodies fly in every direction.
His wife’s life was significantly more interesting than he had expected.
----
The groans of bruised high school boys faded into the background as they reached the shaded quiet of the shoe lockers. Ranma tossed her the schoolbag. She caught it effortlessly, her chest heaving slightly from the exertion.
“Hey,” Ranma said, his voice dropping as he leaned against the metal lockers. “About what you said earlier. About them thinking you ‘belong’ to someone.”
She paused, her outdoor shoe halfway off her foot.
He scratched his cheek, looking at the ceiling. “Just for the record… I don’t think that. You don't belong to me.”
“I know,” she said, her voice softening.
“Good.” He hesitated, his fingers drumming a nervous rhythm against his thigh. “But, uh… speaking of property. I heard our pops talking this morning. About how if Nabiki was the one who got engaged, she’d sell the dojo to developers in a heartbeat.”
Akane stiffened, slamming her outdoor shoes into the small cubby. “She would. She’s already had it appraised.”
Ranma watched her carefully. “So… I gotta ask. Is that why you said ‘fine’ last night? To lock down the deed? Are you just using me to keep the dojo? Did you— Did you seduce me?”
Akane spun around, her eyes flashing with sudden, sharp anger. “You think I married you to inherit my dojo?”
“I’m just saying, it’s a big house, and you were pretty desperate to—”
“My mother left us a commercial plot in Saitama and a vacation home in Chiba,” Akane cut him off, stepping into his space. The anger in her voice was entirely cold and precise. “If this was about money or property value, I would have let Nabiki sell the dojo and happily lived off my cut of the trust.”
Ranma blinked, momentarily stunned by the revelation. “Then why…?”
“Because this is my home. Because it’s my family's martial arts.” She stared him down, her eyes fierce and uncompromising. “I have always intended to inherit the Tendo Dojo. I would have fought my father, my sisters, and the entire city council to keep it, with or without a husband.”
She let out a breath, her rigid posture relaxing just a fraction as she looked up at him. “I didn’t marry you for the deed, Ranma. I told you… I didn't plan for any of this.”
As Ranma processed this, the heavy knot of insecurity in his chest unwinded. A slow smirk spread across his face. “Good. Because I'd hate to just be a trophy husband.”
She rolled her eyes, but a small smile betrayed her. “Don't flatter yourself.”
The bell rang, sharp and shrill, shattering the quiet. The moment was over.
----
She had completely forgotten to establish ground rules about what he could and couldn’t say. She somehow didn’t instruct him to not tell anyone about their marriage. She hoped he was at least smart and sensible enough to realize that outing that tidbit was not a good idea!
She sat frozen at her desk, praying he was at least sensible enough to keep his mouth shut. From the front of the room, he beamed at her with a bright, oblivious grin.
“We have a transfer student joining us today,” their homeroom teacher announced, adjusting his glasses. “Everyone, say ‘Ni hao’ to Tendo Ranma. He recently returned from China.”
The collective gaze of thirty high schoolers snapped from the chalkboard directly to Akane.
Ranma’s grin faltered, his brow furrowing as he glared at the teacher. Akane’s stomach dropped. Please don't demand they call you Saotome, she begged internally. Defending why a boy had her family name would be hard enough, but explaining a sudden family name change would lead to questions she legally could not answer without causing a riot.
She needed a cover story. Fast. A cousin. That made sense. It explained the name and why he was living with them.
She locked eyes with him and widened hers in a frantic, desperate Morse code. I am your cousin. Say you are my cousin. Do not mention the wedding.
He stared back. He obviously couldn't read her mind. He did seem to notice the sheer panic in her stiff shoulders and the sudden, aggressive shift in the room's atmosphere.
Please, don’t be a moron.
“Hello everyone,” Ranma said, clearing his throat. “I’m a martial artist. I just finished a ten-year training voyage with my pop, and I am—” He caught Akane slashing a finger subtly across her throat. He swallowed the word married and quickly changed course. “—I am staying at the Tendo Dojo.”
“My Uncle Genma brought Ranma to stay with us for a while to train!” Akane blurted out, her cheeks burning as she plastered on a fake, polite smile for the class.
A collective, disappointed “Ohhh” echoed through the room. Cousins. Just training. Crisis averted. The way she phrased it wasn't even a lie. She was proud of herself, she didn’t even need to use the word ‘cousin’.
The teacher pointed to an empty desk near the back window. Ranma lowered his head, ignoring the glares of the boys, and the hungry stares of the girls. He hurried down the aisle.
As he slid into his seat, he exchanged one last, quiet look with her across the room.
Akane swallowed hard, turning back to the chalkboard. After the sheer chaos of the last twenty-four hours, the engagement announcement, the exciting sparring, the steam of the bath, the frantic whispers in her bedroom, seeing him sitting rows away suddenly felt wrong.
He felt way too far away.
----
“So,” Ranma said, casually balancing on top of a chain-link fence as they walked home. “What exactly was with the horde this morning?”
Akane groaned, her shoulders slumping at the mere mention of it. “Tatewaki Kuno, the idiot in the hakama. He’s the captain of the Kendo club and a complete lunatic. At the start of the school year he announced to the entire student body that the only way someone was allowed to date me was if they defeated me in combat first.”
Ranma missed a step, his foot wobbling on the metal wire before he caught his balance. “And they listened to him?”
“They’re high school boys,” Akane said bitterly, stomping the pavement. “They will take any excuse to act like barbarians. So now, every single morning, I have to fight off thirty to fifty idiots who think my affection is a prize they can win by jumping me with a baseball bat.”
Ranma went quiet. He stared down at the chain-link under his feet, the easy, arrogant swagger suddenly draining out of him. He stopped walking.
“Do you hate me?” he asked suddenly, his voice entirely devoid of its usual brashness.
“What?”
“You know. For forcing you.” He hopped down from the fence, landing lightly on the sidewalk in front of her. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, suddenly looking very small.
“You didn’t force me to do anything,” she replied as her feet started to stomp the sidewalk.
“I mean the marriage, you pervert,” he said and jumped over a kick she sent his way. “You can’t possibly be happy with this, do you?”
She furrowed her brow, her chest tightening. “No, of course I'm not happy about the marriage,” she said honestly. But when she saw the immediate, bruised flinch in his eyes, she let out a long sigh. “But I don't hate you, dummy.”
He blinked, looking up through his bangs. “You… don’t?”
“No.” She sighed. “What good would that do? You didn't force me to do anything. My dad pushed, and I made a choice.”
Ranma rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks flushing a faint pink. “I guess you’re right. Pop says that the husband gotta pull his weight and keep his wife happy. I…” He swallowed hard. “I’m gonna try to not be a burden. I hope I can keep you happy.”
“If no one at school finds out we’re married, I will be ecstatic.”
“Right. Sure.” A beat passed. A slow, cocky smirk started to creep back onto Ranma’s face, replacing the vulnerability. “So… does that mean we can—”
“Can what?”
“You know, repeat what we did yesterday?”
Akane’s face burned. She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and yanked him down to her eye level. “I don’t know why you drove me nuts in the furo,” she hissed. She leaned in, kissed his ear, and then gave the cartilage a sharp, punishing nibble that had entirely too much strength behind it. “But that doesn’t mean we’re lovers, idiot.”
“Yewch!” he yelped, slapping a hand over his ear and pulling back. “Mixed signals, much!?”
She let go of his shirt and resumed walking, her chin held high to hide her furiously red cheeks. “That just means I reserve the right to do that when I feel like it. I haven't even kissed a boy before this.”
Ranma rubbed his throbbing ear, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “Could’ve fooled me, pervert!”
He wasn’t ready for the schoolbag coming at a million miles per hour.
It caught him flush in the face, sending him tumbling onto the asphalt. Before he could scramble to his feet, a heavy shoe stomped the back of his head. He tried to twist away, only to find himself airborne, inverted, and slammed into the pavement with a suplex that bent his neck at a truly horrifying angle.
After a good solid five minutes of non-stop, merciless beating, Akane stood over the twitching body of her husband, breathing hard. His arm dangled helplessly to the side.
She dusted off her hands, grabbed him by the pigtail, and began dragging him down the street to meet the family doctor.
----
“You’re not bringing a pig into our bed, you pervert!”
“Why not? It’s my bed! I can bring whoever I want into it.”
“You’re my wife! You’re not bringing some random dude into our bed!”
“Who said anything about a dude!?” Akane yelled, gesturing to the tiny black piglet dripping wet on her rug. “It’s a piglet, Ranma, you don’t have to be jealous!”
He lunged, snatching the squealing pig from her hands. “No! Not in our bed!”
She glared at him. “Why?”
“Because I don’t want some pervert motorboating you!”
“You think the little pig is a pervert?”
“I know he is!”
“Are you seriously jealous of a farm animal?” she asked, throwing her hands in the air.
“You’re my wife,” he hissed, as if that explained the laws of the universe. “He should know better than to mess with a married woman!”
“He’s a pig!” She threw her hands up in the air. It was way too late for him to go crazy on her.
“Yes, he is!”
“Are you jealous that I kissed the pig?”
“I don’t want you kissing anyone else, we are married. We should— ” he huffed, and then let out a heavy sigh. “We should be loyal to each other, and stuff.”
“I kiss whoever I want, Ranma,” she said. She reached out, grabbed his pigtail. “Do you know who I want to kiss?” She asked and yanked him firmly forward.
His head landed squarely in her lap. All the fight instantly drained out of him. The piglet struggled in his grip, biting furiously at his knuckles, but Ranma didn’t even seem to notice. He looked up at her, practically purring. “Me?”
Akane laced her fingers into his black hair, massaging his scalp. “Yes, you. I kiss whoever I want, but I only want to kiss you. When I feel like it. Is that clear?”
He let out a soft whine when she didn't lean down to kiss him. “I still don’t want the pig in our bed.”
She eyed the struggling pig. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yes, Okay.” she said, rolled her eyes and kissed him. “Except…”
“What?”
“I need a reason.”
“Why!?”
“What if I told you tomorrow that I wanted you to spend twenty-four hours straight as a girl?” she asked, pointedly eyeing his female form. “Would you be okay with that, or would you want an explanation first?”
“That doesn’t make any sense!”
“It’s an example. So, tell me, my manly husband who is currently threatened by a pig: why do you want my pet out of the bed?”
“Our bed,” he corrected helpfully.
“My bed,” she punctuated. They both knew that if she wanted to, he’d be sleeping on the floor again.
Ranma rolled his eyes and huffed. The pig clamped its teeth down hard on his thumb. Ranma finally snapped, slapping the animal off his hand. “Oy, quit that, Ryoga!”
Akane blinked. “Ryoga? What does your childhood friend have to do with this?”
“Would a friend want to end my happiness or whatever!?” He asked in a loud tone. “I’m telling you, perv, this pig is a huge pervert!”
Akane snatched the pig back. The poor little guy was sobbing crocodile tears. She narrowed her eyes. Ranma had been fighting Ryoga out in the rain earlier. Now, there was a wet pig in her room. Ranma was acting insanely protective, and the pig seemed to understand exactly what was being said.
She decided to lay a trap.
“Aww, do you want me to kiss you, little guy?” Akane cooed, pitching her voice into a sickly-sweet register. She pulled the pig close to her chest. “Maybe you want me to cuddle you? Snuggle you up in the blankets?”
The little pig instantly stopped crying. It blushed furiously, a dopey, intensely human grin spreading across its snout as it nodded like its life depended on it.
Akane’s expression dropped into a deadpan scowl. She looked back at her husband (Or was it wife at the moment?), who was violently gesturing at the animal. “Okay. He actually does act like a pervert.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!”
She grabbed her pillow and chucked it at his face. “Then tell me what Ryoga has to do with it!”
“Well… I can’t say.” Ranma swatted the pillow away, scratching the back of his neck. “I kinda… promised. You know. Manly honor and all that.”
Akane stared pointedly at his prominent breasts that were no longer covered by the tiny towel that he had over his shoulders only a few minutes earlier. “Sure. Manly honor.”
Ranma realized where she was staring and hastily crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m still a man when I’m like this!”
Okay, that answers the wife question, Akane thought, filing the gender-identity revelation away for later.
She looked back at the pig, the pieces finally clicking together in her mind. “So, this jealousy... is it Ryoga's fault, in a way?”
“In a very big way,” Ranma muttered, glaring daggers at the piglet.
Akane unceremoniously dropped the pig directly onto Ranma’s chest. The animal completely ignored the large breasts and instead launched itself upward, sinking its teeth viciously into Ranma’s nose.
Ranma screamed bloody murder, throwing the pig into the wall, and the two began furiously chasing each other in circles around the bedroom.
Akane watched the slapstick violence for a moment. Then, she calmly reached for the heavy thermos she had brought earlier when she first realized that her husband was fighting his childhood friend out in the rain.
Testing a theory couldn't hurt too much.
----
Three weeping high school girls were huddled on her floor.
Akane set down a tray of tea and mochi, wishing her himbo of a husband had given her a five-minute warning before dragging classmates into their bedroom. She had barely managed to rip the ‘Akane + Ranma’ sign off the door in time.
Now, she just had to pray they didn’t ask who the girl doing hamstring stretches on her bed was, or where her ‘cousin’ Ranma had gone. Knowing him, he would definitely say something stupid and out them both.
“So… what is it, girls?” Akane asked, taking a seat.
Tears streamed through the three girls’ eyes.
“Akane!” one of the girls wailed.
“We've been so humiliated!” said another.
Akane sighed and glanced back at Ranma, who was ignoring their guests to focus on touching his toes. “Is this one giving you problems?” she asked. She reached out, her fingers absentmindedly sinking into her girl-type husband’s shimmering black hair. “I can kick him out.”
“No, she saved us from Kodachi.”
“Oh, that’s nice of him,” Akane replied smoothly. She began to lightly scratch his scalp. Ranma stopped stretching, let out a soft breath, and leaned into her hand like a housecat.
The three girls paused mid-sob. They stared at Akane, then at the strange girl purring against her knee, and exchanged a deeply bewildered look. They silently, collectively decided to ignore it.
“Yes, it was nice of her,” the first girl continued, taking a long sip of tea. “Kodachi would’ve sent us to the hospital if she hadn’t shown up.”
“Who is this Kodachi person?” Akane asked, her hand now slowly circling the base of Ranma’s neck.
“She ambushed our whole team! We don’t have anyone left who can take her on!”
Another girl sniffled. “Now we have to withdraw from the match!”
Akane stopped petting him to cross her arms. Ranma let out a small, annoyed whine and nudged her leg.
“And you want me to take your place…” Akane sighed. “Look, I make it a point not to be an active member of any club. I can help out here and there, but Dad says it’s unfair to the competition.”
“Kodachi’s whole game is unfair!” the quietest girl suddenly yelled. “Please, Akane! There's nothing else we can do! And the next match is Martial Rhythmic Gymnastics!”
Ranma’s head snapped up. “What the heck is that!?”
Akane pinched the bridge of her nose.
Such a himbo.
The girls immediately pulled out posters and visual aids. Akane completely failed to see the appeal of the sport, but she couldn't say no to crying classmates. She agreed to help.
The moment the bedroom door clicked shut behind the girls, Ranma hopped off the bed and unceremoniously shucked his shirt and pants, leaving him standing in nothing but boxer shorts.
“You sure it was a good idea to accept helping them out?” he asked.
Akane slapped a hand over her eyes. “Will you please stop flaunting your boobs?”
“What?” He dug through the single drawer she had allocated to him for fresh clothes. “We’re alone. You’ve already seen my boobs.”
“I don’t need to see you naked, jerk.”
Ranma casually unscrewed a thermos from the desk and dumped the hot water over his head. The sheen vanished from his black hair as his shoulders broadened. “You love seeing me naked, pervert.”
She grabbed a dumbbell from the floor and hurled it at the back of his head. “I told you to quit calling me a pervert!”
He ducked smoothly, the heavy iron harmlessly whizzing past him to dent the wall. “Okay, okay, I’m getting dressed!” he laughed, pulling a blue tang shirt over his chest. “I wasn’t about to rip these fits with my manly bod.”
Akane picked up the smaller clothes he had discarded and tossed them into the laundry basket. “I got you clothes that fit your female body so you wouldn't go around town exposing your tits! I guess the girls couldn’t tell it was you. What were you doing when you found them anyway?”
He hopped on one leg, pulling his pants up, and jerked his chin toward a paper bag on her desk.
She opened it, pulled out a warm pork bun, and took a bite. “You could have bought these as a guy.”
He shrugged. “I got a few extra buns for being, and I quote, ‘a sweet little girl.’ Those bozos just give away food if a girl smiles their way! Talk about whipped.”
She allowed her body to fall back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. “You’re such a tease. I married a slut.”
“I married a slut,” he parroted easily.
She threw her half-eaten bun at him. He caught it in his mouth like a golden retriever.
“Ranma. Stop calling me a slut, or a perv, or whatever!”
He chewed, swallowed, and looked at her. The playful energy dimmed a fraction. “Aw, come on. You know I don’t mean anything mean by it.”
“If we’re alone, you can call me a perv if you want, but…” She sighed, the conversation she had with Kasumi on the first night echoing in the back of her mind. “Not a slut. Okay?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Why is perv fine and slut not?”
She eyed him cautiously, trying to gauge if he was mocking her. But his expression was open, genuinely waiting for the rules of engagement. She decided to trust him.
“I can be a pervert with my husband,” she said quietly. “But if I’m a slut, I have sex with anyone. And I do not have sex with anyone. I’m a good girl.”
Ranma stared at her for a second. He processed the rule, filed it away, and reached into the bag. He chucked another pork bun directly at her face. She barely caught it before it hit her nose.
He laughed. “Okay.”
She lowered the bun, glaring at him. “Okay? Just like that?”
“Sure.” A beat passed. He flashed her a devastating, cocky wink. “So… you in the mood to be a pervert?”
She threw her second half-eaten bun at him.
----
They spent the rest of the afternoon in the dojo, surrounded by the bizarre implements the girls had left behind. Akane had one week to prepare for the upcoming fight.
Akane had never felt so incompetent in her life. Well, except maybe when she had decided it was a good idea to kiss a boy in the furo and had completely failed to find the brakes.
Currently, she was hopelessly tangled in a ten-foot ribbon, a hoop was clattering across the wooden floor, and she had just dropped a gymnastics club directly onto her own toe.
She groaned, collapsing onto the floor in defeat. She rolled over, whimpering, and began petulantly slamming her fists against Ranma’s calves. “I’m a klutz! I’m a klutz! I’m a klutz!”
“What do you want me to do about it?” he asked, looking down at her. He crouched, placing a surprisingly gentle hand on her back. “You’ve got a week to learn how to use them.”
“But that’s not enough time to be ready, dummy!” she whined into the floorboards. “I’m going to let everyone down!”
Ranma reached over and picked up one of the dropped clubs. He absentmindedly whirled it around his wrist in a lightning-fast figure-eight, treating it exactly like a nunchuck. “You just gotta improvise. You don’t need to use these ropes and sticks all girly-like.”
Akane lifted her head, glaring at him. “I am a girl, you know!”
“I am aware!” he said. He gave her a grossly exaggerated, up-and-down eyebrow wiggle that was far more comical than sensual.
She couldn't help the small snort of amusement that escaped her. “And you say I am a pervert?” she whispered. She sat up, untangling the ribbon from her ankle. “What do you think I should do, then?”
“Well, you’re a shodan in Kendo, right?”
She nodded numbly, entirely failing to see how traditional Japanese swordsmanship factored into a Rhythmic Gymnastics competition.
“Is there anywhere in the rules that says you have to use the tools normally?”
She brought a hand to her chin. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”
“You didn’t…” Ranma sighed, dropping his head back. “Do you have the phone number of any of those girls?”
“I think I have Yuka’s number. I brought her homework for a week when she was sick last month.”
“Well, call Yuka and ask her for them rules!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “I'm telling you, there is absolutely no way you’re expected to use these tools like a normal gymnast.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” Ranma said, snatching a club out of the air and pointing it at her, “these things are specifically reinforced to bonk someone in the head! It’s called Martial Rhythmic Gymnastics, Akane!”
She blinked. The dread that had been suffocating her all afternoon suddenly vanished, replaced by a sharp, thrilling realization.
Oh.
She didn't have to look like a doll whirling fancy strings and doing girly pirouttes. She just had to fight.
“You're right,” she breathed.
Without a second thought, she surged upward, threw her arms around her husband's neck, and kissed him. It was sudden, messy, and driven entirely by adrenaline. And even though he had just eaten half a dozen pork buns, his lips still tasted exactly like mochi.
----
Not ten minutes later, they were dragging each other upstairs. It was a frantic, clumsy retreat, angrily tugging at each other’s shirts and freezing in sheer terror every time a floorboard creaked under their weight, praying the rest of the family was asleep.
They tumbled through her bedroom door. Ranma threw her onto the mattress, flashing a breathless, triumphant smile before diving after her.
Akane closed her eyes, arching her back against the bedspread as she waited for him.
When she reopened her eyes, Ranma wasn't there. Instead, a woman in a black gymnastics leotard was perched on her ceiling, staring down at her like some sort of deranged, acrobatic ninja.
“Prepare yourself, Akane Tendo!” the maniac shrieked, leaping from the sill and producing a massive wooden mallet out of thin air.
Akane was about to roll out of the way, but Ranma’s hands clamped around her ankles. He swifly yanked her off the mattress just as the mallet came crashing down. The bed frame splintered in two, leaving a crater where Akane’s head had been a second before.
Akane scrambled to her feet, clad only in her underwear. She glared at the newcomer, annoyed at the attempt on her life, furious at the actual death of her marital bed, and deeply, violently angry at the fact that she was still horny.
“Who are you!?” she demanded, dropping into a fighting stance.
The woman hoisted the mallet over her shoulder and grinned. “I'm from St. Hebereke School for Girls! Kodachi Kuno, the Black Rose!” She lunged forward, swinging the mallet in a deadly arc. “I shall be your opponent next week, wench!”
Akane ducked the swing and glanced back at Ranma for backup. She almost facepalmed. The guy was behind a broken bedpost, desperately using both hands to cover his tender parts. He was going to be absolutely no help.
“Who are you calling a wench!?” Akane snapped, sending a high kick at the weirdo's head.
Kodachi dodged, her smirk widening as she eyed Ranma cowering on the floor. “Well, I’m not the one sullying myself with a half-naked boy-toy like a common slut! I merely came here to tell you that we should both do our best and fight in all fairness!”
The word echoed in the small bedroom.
Something in Akane’s brain snapped. The memory of Kasumi’s slap burned on her cheek.
Akane smoothly sidestepped the next swing of the mallet. “Don’t. Call. Me. A slut!”
With a vicious chop of her right hand, she shattered the mallet’s handle, disarming the gymnast. Before Kodachi could even register the loss of her weapon, Akane closed the distance and drove a brutally precise, open-palm strike directly into the girl's solar plexus.
Kodachi’s eyes rolled back into her head, and she dropped to the floor like a bag of bricks.
The room went completely silent, save for Akane’s heavy breathing.
From behind the broken bedpost, Ranma started clapping. “Good job, dear. Can we throw her out the window and get back to business?”
“I created a horny monster,” Akane muttered, burying her face in her hands. She marched over to their drawer, pulled out a pair of clean boxer shorts, and threw them at his head. “Maybe later. We need to get this psycho out of the house first.”
She hastily grabbed her pajamas from the closet and began wrestling them on before hoisting Kodachi by the collar of her leotard. “Can you go wake up our dads?”
Ranma caught the underwear in mid-air, bristling at the unconscious girl on the floor who had ruined his night.
----
The next day, Akane approached the school gates with a knot in her stomach. She dreaded the possibility that Kodachi had spent the night calling every student in the directory to out her and Ranma as husband and wife. But as they walked up the path, the student body seemed entirely focused on their usual business. Kodachi went to a different school, after all. Maybe her secret was safe.
She allowed herself a small sigh of relief as she casually backhanded the last of the morning horde into a tree.
Suddenly, a shadow fell over her.
Akane felt the murderous intent and reached up, her hand snapping shut around a wooden shinai mere inches from the top of her skull. She glared up. Of course, the so-called Black Rose was back.
“I thought my dad had you locked you up for trespassing!” Akane snapped,
“No cage can hold me for long!” Kodachi laughed, unsuccessfully trying to wrestle the weapon away from Akane.
“Why are you such a coward that you need to ambush me at the gates?”
“Ambush you? I did no such thing!” Kodachi huffed indignantly. She caught sight of someone walking up the path behind Akane and instantly dropped her weapon, her demeanor shifting to sickeningly sweet. “I am merely here to say hello to my brother dearest!”
Akane froze. Brother?
Kodachi skipped past her, throwing her arms wide as Tatewaki Kuno approached, clutching a bouquet of red roses.
“Brother dearest! Your school is such a deplorable place! I pity you for having to endure such pests on your morning commute.”
“Ah, Kodachi,” Kuno said, striking a noble pose with his roses. “So you have come to offer sportsmanship platitudes to the pure and tidy Akane Tendo! But I know your schemes, sister. You say ‘play well’ with one hand, and stab your opponent’s back with the other!”
Kodachi paused. She looked at Kuno, then looked past him to Akane. Her eyes flicked deliberately to Ranma, then back to Akane. A wicked, knowing smirk spread across her face.
“Pure?” Kodachi muttered, her voice dripping with amusement.
Akane’s blood ran cold. She’s going to tell him.
Ranma leaned in close, whispering into Akane’s ear. “Wait, they’re siblings?”
“Yeah,” Akane whispered back, watching the two lunatics stare at each other. “It checks out. They’re identically deranged.”
Kodachi let out a dark, dramatic harrumph. She leaned forward, cupping her hand to whisper something directly into her brother's ear. Kuno’s eyes went wide.
Akane didn't wait to see the fallout. She grabbed Ranma by the sleeve, completely abandoning her dignity, and dragged him in a dead sprint past the siblings before the crazies decided to take another shot at them.
----
Thankfully, they made it to their homeroom without any further violence.
A few girls approached Akane, offering sympathetic well-wishes for her upcoming match against the dreadful Kodachi Kuno. Akane smiled politely, though internally she was panicking.
Did everyone else know that she’s that moron’s sister?
Suddenly, a girl from another class leaned against Akane's desk. “Say, Tendo…” she purred, winking.
“Yes?” Akane asked, expecting the girl to at least offer her name.
But the girl wasn't looking at her. She was staring across the classroom at Ranma, who was chatting with Hiroshi. The stranger sighed dreamily. “Your cousin is accumulating quite a little fan club, you know.”
Akane forced herself to keep her eyes forward. The absolute last thing she needed to do was look over there, blush, and lay claim to him just to keep the hussies away. That instinct had already caused her enough problems at home.
“So?” Akane asked dryly.
“Well, I was wondering if you could introduce him to me.” The girl leaned in closer. “I’ll pay you five thousand yen.”
Akane glared at her. “Do I look like a pimp to you!?”
The girl from the other class seemed taken aback. “Oh? I thought you Tendo sisters charged money for favors. It’s kind of your reputation.”
“That’s Nabiki. I don’t charge for favors,” Akane snapped, really not wanting to think about her middle sister right now. Nabiki had been firmly on her blacklist ever since babbling to the parental units about the furo incident.
“Okay, then… maybe you'll introduce him to me for free?” the girl asked, her confidence faltering.
“No? Why would I? I don’t even know you.”
The girl huffed, offering a stiff hand. “I’m Ayashi Hayate. Class 1-B.”
Akane stared flatly at the hand. “Why don’t you just walk over to his desk and introduce yourself?”
Ayashi scowled, withdrew her hand, and marched aggressively toward the back of the classroom.
Sayuri leaned over and poked Akane’s shoulder. “Are you sure that’s fine? She's got a reputation.”
“He’s not going to cheat on me with the first girl who drools his way,” Akane replied automatically, immediately dropping her head onto her desk so she could focus her hearing on Ranma’s conversation.
Sayuri froze. She leaned in closer, whispering fiercely into Akane's ear. “Wait. What do you mean by that? You trust him not to cheat on you? Are you going out with your cousin!?”
Akane squeezed her eyes shut and lightly banged her forehead against the wood. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. The day literally could not get any worse. And the first period hadn’t even started yet!
“Hello, Lord Tendo!” Ayashi’s forced, sugary-sweet voice drifted across the room.
Ranma stopped talking to Hiroshi and blinked at her. “Huh? Who are you?”
“I’m Ayashi Hayate from 1-B!” she said, making a sickeningly cute kissy face. “I was wondering if you’d like to hang out with me after school!”
Ranma tilted his head, glancing across the room at Akane’s slumped form. “Nah. I promised to help Akane train for the match against Saint Drunkard, or whatever that school is called.”
Ayashi followed his gaze and glared. “But Akane is already a martial arts master! She doesn’t need your help. Wouldn’t you rather spend your afternoon with a cute girl?”
“Huh? Akane is a cute girl,” Ranma said, genuinely confused by her logic. He looked Ayashi up and down. “Way cuter than you, sister.”
The classroom went dead silent.
Hiroshi suddenly threw an arm around Ranma’s neck, yanking him into a headlock. “You bastard! Are you making moves on your own cousin!? Have you >#% her?”
Daisuke slammed his hands on Ranma's desk. “Oh, I get it! You lowered her guard by playing the family card! I didn’t think there was anyone more perverted than Kuno at this school!”
The girl from the other class let out a humiliated shriek, glared violently at Ranma, and stomped out of the room.
Akane silently prayed for the earth to open up and swallow her whole.
CRASH.
The classroom door exploded off its hinges. Tatewaki Kuno stormed into 1-F, a wooden bokken gripped tightly in his hands. He swung the sword down in a lethal arc aimed directly at Ranma’s skull.
“I will never allow this transgression to pass!” Kuno bellowed.
Ranma casually slipped out of Hiroshi’s headlock and leaped backward. The bokken cleaved Ranma’s desk clean in half.
Akane lifted her head just enough to peek over her arms. Don’t mention that we’re married. Please, moron, don’t mention that we’re married.
“What’ya pissed off about Kuno?” Ranma asked, slightly annoyed at the fact that his desk was a goner.
Akane lifted her head from her desk. Don’t mention that we’re married. Don’t mention that we’re married.
Kuno pointed his sword dramatically at Ranma’s chest. “I shall never accept your marriage to Akane Tendo!”
The entire classroom erupted into absolute, deafening chaos.
“WHAT!?”
“You married your cousin!?”
“Isn’t that illegal?"
“How could you Akane! You said you despised men!”
“Leave at least one of the cute boys for us!”
Akane resumed banging her head against her desk. Thud. Thud. Thud.
“We’re not cousins!” Ranma yelled over the screaming students, easily dodging another flurry of Kuno's sword strikes. “I took her family name when we tied the knot!”
“You fiend!” Kuno cried, swinging wildly. “You must be after her family fortune!”
“Well, we are supposed to inherit the Tendo Dojo,” Ranma said, pausing to dodge a thrust. He remembered his conversation with Akane at the lockers and smirked. “But we kinda got married for love, I guess?”
“Oh my goodness, how romantic!” several girls squealed, immediately fanning their flushed faces.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Akane hit the desk harder.
“Be still, you fiend!” Kuno screamed. He swung his bokken with terrifying force.
Ranma ducked with playful ease.
The sword missed him entirely and smashed into the drywall behind him. The wall completely blew apart, raining plaster and dust over the room and revealing the terrified students of Class 1-E on the other side.
A teacher peeked through the massive, jagged hole, blinking at them through the dust.
“Look, buddy, you’re putting innocent bystanders in danger with your sloppy attacks!” Ranma exclaimed. “Let’s take this outside!”
“Never! I shall strike you down right now, you enemy of women!”
Ranma sighed. He hopped lightly onto the blade of Kuno's bokken, using it as a springboard to launch himself upward, and kicked Kuno square in the jaw twice in rapid succession.
Kuno skidded backward across the floor, crashing heavily into the chalkboard. He groaned, attempting to stagger to his feet.
Ranma picked up the two sundered halves of his desk and smashed them simultaneously over Kuno’s head. The upperclassman went down for the count, buried under a pile of wood and textbooks.
The sliding door to the hallway suddenly opened.
The 1-F homeroom teacher stepped inside. He looked at the unconscious Kuno, the screaming students taking photographs, the pulverized desk, and the gaping crater connecting his class to 1-E.
The teacher let out a long, heavy sigh, turned around, and walked back out into the hallway without saying a single word.
----
“So… how did Kuno figure out our deal?” Ranma asked, casually balancing on top of a cinderblock wall as they walked home.
“His psycho sister told him something,” Akane grumbled, dragging her feet along the pavement. “But even if she saw us, there’s only one person who would have sold him the actual confirmation for a profit.”
Ranma winced. “Man, your sister su~uucks.”
“We see eye to eye on that,” Akane muttered. She stopped walking and glared up at his back. “Why did you say that, anyway?”
Ranma stopped and looked down at her, genuinely confused. “What? Your sister sucks. You say it all the time!”
“Not that!” she exclaimed, her face erupting in a furious blush. “Why did you tell the whole class that we married for love!?”
He threw his arms behind his head, suddenly refusing to meet her eyes. “Well… in a way, we did? Right? I mean, you weren't in it for the dojo. And I accepted because, well, you’re cute, and stuff.”
He hopped down from the wall, landing softly on the pavement right next to her. He shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly looking a bit shy. “I think?”
Akane stared at him. The secret was completely out. The school was going to be an absolute warzone tomorrow. But as she looked at her husband, she realized that the suffocating dread from this morning was completely gone.
Were those butterflies in her stomach?
She stepped into his space and firmly hooked her arm through his.
“Come on,” she said softly. “Let’s go home.”
Ranma glanced down at their linked arms. The shyness vanished, replaced immediately by a slow, devastatingly cocky smirk. “Are you in the mood, perv?”
“Shut up,” she snapped, pushing against him to force him to walk faster.
But as she leaned into his shoulder, she added in a barely audible whisper, “Yes.”
----
The rest of the week was a masterclass in sleep deprivation and blunt-force trauma.
Kodachi kept breaching into their shared room in the dead of night, the second time accompanied by a fully grown alligator whom she probably had intended to devour Akane.
Upperclassman Kuno, predictably, ambushed Ranma at the school gates every single morning. Fortunately, Ranma made a habit of kicking him unconscious before the first bell rang, allowing them to attend homeroom in relative peace.
By Wednesday, the morning horde of armed perverts had completely evaporated. After watching Ranma effortlessly dismantle the Kendo champion on a daily basis, they quietly decided that Akane Tendo’s husband was not someone they wanted to cross.
By Friday afternoon, the day before the gymnastics match, Akane was in the dojo, whirling a pair of heavy wooden batons like nunchucks. She slashed viciously at the air, trying to tag her husband. Ranma simply hopped, ducked, and scrambled around her strikes like a deranged monkey, laughing the entire time.
From the veranda overlooking the yard, Soun and Genma sat sipping green tea, watching the youth train.
Genma took a loud slurp from his cup as Akane finally stopped swinging wildly. She leaned in close to Ranma, her chest heaving, and whispered something directly into the boy’s ear.
Ranma froze in place. His face erupted in a violent shade of red, and his hands dropped to his sides.
“You let your guard down!” Akane said, as she brought both batons down hard on the crown of his head.
Ranma folded like a cheap lawn chair. Without a word, she grabbed him by the pigtail and calmly began dragging his twitching body out of the dojo and across the yard toward the main house.
“There they go again,” Genma sighed comfortably, taking another sip of tea. “I guess we’ll be grandparents soon.”
Soun watched his daughter drag her unconscious husband out of sight. “Say, Saotome. Now that our schools are joined and the marriage is secured... what is next for us?”
Genma let out a loud yawn and scratched his ear. “Well, I guess once we have confirmation that your daughter has a little Saotome in her oven, I’ll probably give Nodoka a call so she can come down and meet her new daughter-in-law.”
“A little Tendo, you mean,” Soun corrected, his tone pointed. He took a sip of his own tea, then paused, his brow furrowing as Genma’s words fully registered. “Wait. Nodoka? As in… your wife?”
“Yes?” Genma eyed Soun with a raised eyebrow, as if Soun were the one being slow. “Who else?”
Soun lowered his teacup. “I thought she was dead.”
Genma blinked. “Why on earth would you think that?”
“Because you showed up on my doorstep with a cursed teenager and half a duffel bag of wet clothes!” Soun exclaimed, his voice rising in disbelief. “Why else would you come here to mooch off my hospitality and not go home to her? Why else would you not at least call her for the wedding of her only son?”
“Ah.” Genma waved a hand dismissively. “Well, there’s an interesting story behind that, old friend. You see, when Ranma was just a little boy, Nodoka didn't just passively allow me to take him on our glorious training voyage. We signed a sacred pledge.”
“A pledge?”
“Exactly! A binding contract of martial honor,” Genma said proudly, puffing out his chest. “I promised her that I would train the boy until he was a man among men. And if I failed to do so, Ranma and I would both commit ritual seppuku with our ancestral blades.”
Soun nodded along automatically, taking a sip of his tea.
“Of course,” Genma continued breezily, “now that cold water turns him into a busty girl, returning home right now would mean instant, gruesome death for both of us. So, we really just need Akane to pop out a baby boy first to soften the blow before we introduce them. Make sense?”
Soun slowly stopped nodding.
He stared at his oldest friend. The tea felt entirely cold in his hands. He looked toward the house where his teenage daughter had just dragged her cursed husband, and realized with terrifying, crystalline clarity that he had married his youngest child into a suicide cult.
He dragged his hand over his brow, hoping that Nodoka Saotome had more sense in her nogging compared to her husband. Somehow, he doubted that would be the case.
----
“She improved a lot,” Ryoga noted, leaning against the bleachers as they watched the match.
Down on the mat, Akane was currently neutralizing Kodachi’s spiked batons by hurling a furious, high-velocity barrage of bouncy balls directly at the other girl's face.
“I’m surprised she hasn’t just punched Kodachi out by now,” Ryoga added.
Ranma casually munched on a bag of potato chips. “Nah. She knows she’s gotta stick to the rules.”
“Good for her,” Ryoga said, a sudden edge of bitterness creeping into his voice. He stared at the mat. “Has she… has she said anything about me since we last met?”
Ranma flicked a potato chip at Ryoga’s face. The lost boy didn’t react, the chip simply bounced harmlessly off his deep, tragic frown.
“Why would she talk about some pervert who snuck in to pretend to be her pet?” Ranma asked, chewing loudly.
“I wasn’t trying to be her pet!” Ryoga hissed, his fists clenching for what felt like the twentieth time. “I didn’t choose my curse! I just happened to get lost and ended up in her room—”
“Our room,” Ranma corrected smoothly, flicking another chip at Ryoga’s mouth. “I’m her husband.”
Ryoga’s hand snapped up, catching the flying chip between his index and middle fingers with blinding speed. He glared at Ranma. “I heard you the first ten times you informed me today.” He eyed the chip trapped in his fingers, sighed, and popped it into his mouth. “Hey. These are tasty.”
Ranma grabbed a handful of chips and shoved them into his own mouth. “Yeah, well, I’m not sharing anymore.”
“Cheap bastard,” Ryoga muttered. He turned his attention back to the ring, his eyes softening dramatically as he watched Akane. “Look, I just… I had never felt kindness like that before. Your wife is a keeper, Saotome. You had better take good care of her. She’s like a delicate flower.”
Down on the ring, Kodachi suddenly hurled a full-sized wooden desk at Akane’s head.
Ranma watched as his "delicate flower" of a wife effortlessly caught the desk in mid-air. Akane paused, glancing at the terrified referee to confirm if furniture was tournament-legal. The referee frantically waved a white flag in approval. With a terrifying battle cry, Akane hoisted the desk over her head and absolutely battered the Black Rose with it.
Ranma swallowed his chips. “Sure, man. Delicate.”
“I mean it, Saotome!” Ryoga pressed on, entirely ignoring the splintering wood and screaming gymnast in the background. “I may have lost my chance to win her heart, but someone else may come and steal her away if you don’t take care of—”
Ryoga’s impassioned discourse was abruptly cut short by a cascade of freezing water.
Ranma lowered a bucket. He looked down at the tiny black piglet now sitting next to him on the bleachers. He opened a fresh bag of chips and dropped it directly in front of the animal's snout.
“Stop being annoying, idiot,” Ranma muttered.
The little pig squealed furiously, glaring up at his eternal rival with murderous intent. But a second later, his tiny stomach let out a loud rumble. Ryoga let out a defeated, high-pitched sigh and decided it would be better to just pig out on the offered snacks.
The shrill blast of a whistle echoed through the gym.
Ranma looked up and politely clapped as the referee pointed a trembling finger at Akane, declaring her the victor. Kodachi was sprawled in the ruins of the desk, unmoving.
Ranma winced as he noticed the highly unnatural angle at which Kodachi’s left leg was currently bent. He seriously doubted the gymnast was going to be walking on her own anytime soon.
He felt a brief pang of sympathy, which was immediately eclipsed by a wave of profound relief. At the very least, a shattered femur meant the midnight assassination attempts on his wife would finally stop. They might actually get to sleep through the night.
He munched a handful of chips. Well, we probably won’t get much sleep.