Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Akane, feeling a bit lost in her childhood home, sat on the stairs. She huffed, resting her chin on her hand as she pouted in irritation. Her pet piglet gently nosed her leg, and she gathered him into her lap. 

“Gee, P-chan, you’re the only one acting normal around here!” Akane sighed as she stoked the flat coarse hairs down his back. The piglet closed his eyes and grunted in contentment. “That Shampoo didn’t hurt me at all. Why can’t everyone see that I’m fine?”

She’d climbed halfway after her sisters before she’d wondered why they were going upstairs in the first place. Maybe just a ruse to keep Kasumi away from Dr. Tofu. Who knows? It must not have been important; they were coming back down already, anyway. They, too, paused on the steps and listened carefully to the conversation floating down the hall.

“...saw how she hit him. Her reaction suggests that the shiatsu was, in some way, incomplete. There may be a small chance she could recover her memories on her own if there is a familiar trigger.”

The two men rounded the corner into the entryway. Akane shrunk down on the stairs, and Nabiki shifted in front of Kasumi as Dr. Tofu came into view, slipping out of borrowed house slippers and into his own sandals.

“But this is merely my own speculation– formula #911 is the only guaranteed cure,” he was saying. 

Shoes on, he looked up at Akane’s father with a practiced mix of comfort and empathy, the same expression that had reassured Akane as a child when he handed her a band-aid. Yes, that band-aid look was on Dr. Tofu’s face when he said, “Journaling may help her memory retention in the meantime.”

“Thank you for the advice, doctor,” said Soun Tendo. 

“Not at all. I wish I could do more,” Dr. Tofu said wistfully before he departed. 

Akane glanced back at her sisters. Nabiki patted her shoulder and Kasumi smiled sympathetically. Ugh, her father and the doctor whispering about her like she was terminal, receiving consolation even from Nabiki– it all made her skin crawl. Couldn’t they understand that getting treated like a mental patient bothered her way more than any supposed massage-induced memory loss? Whatever memories were gone, she didn’t miss them one bit! Should she?

Hmph. If only I could remember what it is I’ve forgotten!

The girls proceeded in reverse birth order down the stairs. A fourth set of footsteps gave Akane pause. Surely she couldn't have forgotten another sibling, right? No, the young man who walked into the hall was not only unfamiliar but certainly un-familial. His braided hair drooped over a simple red changshan shirt. He bore a heavy expression of determination and a heavier camping backpack.

“I’m going to a drugstore in China to buy shampoo formula #911,” he announced. That was the formula the doctor said would be Akane’s cure, wasn’t it?

Why is this young man going to so much trouble?

Akane blinked in surprise as he turned that fierce look directly on her. That determination smoldered in his grey eyes, ashy coals on fire, heating his own face pink from within. She might’ve withdrawn from his gaze like a hot stove, but she was too astonished to move as the unfamiliar young man called her by her given name with casual overfamiliarity.  

He said, “Akane, just you wait–” 

“It’s decided!” interrupted her father. “You’ll take Akane with you!”

The two sixteen-year-olds blanched. “All the way to China?!” they said in unison. They exchanged a squirrelly look, then turned back to Mr. Tendo to protest.

“But she’ll just slow me down!”

“But he’s a perfect stranger!”

“I am not a stranger!” the boy said. He had the nerve to glare at Akane. Akane glared right back at him! 

“Then who are you?” she demanded.

“Maybe it's not such a bad idea,” Nabiki said.

Akane gasped. “Nabiki! How can you say that?”

“Well, for starters,” Nabiki replied, “you might not have to go all the way there if your memories come back on their own.”

“Is that possible?” the boy asked.

“If the right trigger jogs her memory,” Mr. Tendo said. “That has to mean spending time with you, Ranma!” 

Akane opened her mouth to point out that her father either neglected to mention or willfully ignored the speculative aspect of this treatment. In other words, the doctor shot from the hip and her father ran wild with it. But she found herself very curious about this boy, Ranma. She focused on that name, Ranma, that tried to wriggle away from her like a fish (piranha?).

“And if you do have to go to China,” Nabiki said, “two people means twice the room for souvenirs!” Akane dropped P-chan as Nabiki gleefully shoved a backpack into her arms. “I packed light for you, Akane, so please bring me back lots of gifts!” she cheesed.

“Cigarettes for me, please,” their father interjected.

How about some Grecian formula? read a wooden sign from Genma Saotome.

“I’d like some oolong tea,” said Kasumi.

The boy stared dumbfounded at the lot of them while Akane entreatied reliable, rational, traditional Kasumi. 

“Sis, please,” she begged. “This is ridiculous! You’re okay with me traveling with a boy I don’t even know ?”

Kasumi smiled again and Akane felt like a condemned woman receiving the pity of a saint. No help whatsoever! “But really you do know him, Akane,” Kasumi said, “and we all trust Ranma.”

“Who again?”

“I packed some protection, just in case,” Nabiki added with a wink. She patted the backpack Akane was still holding. Akane’s eyes bulged.

“And I want you to take this,” Kasumi said before Akane could react further. She stacked a small spiral-bound notebook on top of the backpack. Akane shifted the pack to one hand to pick it up, examining the pink cover with cherry blossoms dancing in one corner. 

“Here.” Kasumi flipped the cover for her with a gentle finger and explained,“I’ve written a little introduction for Ranma on the first page, so you can reference it whenever you need.”

“Well,” Akane said, staring at the few lines inked in her sister’s neat hand, “if it’s in your writing, at least I’ll know I can believe it.”

“Hey, I saw you guys look at me just now,” Nabiki said.

“And me! You don’t trust your dear father, Akane?” Soun asked tearfully.

Genma’s sign read: I get it.

Kasumi cleared her throat delicately. “I know your working memory is very limited, so I kept it brief. But you should use it as a journal as Dr. Tofu suggested. Write down anything important that comes up.”

“Ranma… Saotome,” she read aloud. The name swam oddly in her ears.

“Present.” 

A young man Akane hadn’t noticed by the entrance raised two fingers. He leaned casually there against the door jamb where P-chan was biting his leg, but his gaze was intense. 

“Let’s go, Akane,” Ranma said with a jerk of his head. “Hurry up before I change my mind.”

It’ll be a major pain dragging you along, and I’ll probably regret getting talked into this stupid idea. But right now, I don’t feel like passing up another chance to make you remember me.

Her conflicted face turned back to Kasumi. He watched as she studied the backpack under her arm and began to shrug it onto her shoulders. Ranma’s father, pouring water from a kettle over his head, stepped in close and blocked his view.

“Ranma,” he said. “It brings a tear to my eye to see how devoted you’ve become to Akane–”

“Gag me,” Ranma muttered.

“--so don’t squander this opportunity!” Genma said, grabbing Ranma’s shoulders.

Bewildered, Ranma demanded, “Oppor– what are you blathering about?”

“Akane has forgotten your insults and indiscretions, boy!”

“What kinda indiscretions are you accusing me of, Pop?!” 

Ranma wrestled out of his father’s grip. He should know better than anyone what kind of relationship Ranma had with Shampoo! 

Until yesterday, she was trying to kill me– heck, she’s STILL trying to kill half of me! It’s not MY fault she suddenly decided to kiss me and sneak into my bed!

A vein popped in Genma’s temple as he frowned sternly at his son. Ranma stared back defiantly.

“The way you act, it’s a miracle you’ve gotten this far!” Genma growled. “It won’t kill you to be the least bit charming this time. You understand me?” 

“Moron! What does it matter,” Ranma said crossly, “when she forgets who I am twice a minute?”

“Ranma, right?” Akane said. Father and son jumped. A camera flashed. Akane looked up from the folded notebook in her hand. “I guess we’re going.”

“One sec,” Nabiki said. She taped the instant film, yet a dark undeveloped square, into Akane’s notebook. “Pho-to i-dent-ification,” she overpronounced smugly. 

“Nice thinking, Nabiki!” Soun said as the rest of the Tendo family gathered in the entry.

“Woah, woah, wait!” Ranma said, his hand flying to smooth his hair. “I wasn’t ready. Can we retake that?”

“No time,” Nabiki sighed with feigned wistfulness. 

“Quite right,” her father agreed. “You must go.” He placed a hand on each of their packs and steered them through the door.

“Good luck, you two,” said Kasumi, a tear drooping from her eye.

“Don’t mess this up!” warned Genma.

“And don’t worry, Ranma,” Nabiki said. She grinned, the curve of her teeth glinting like a scythe. “You take great candids.”

—

The body heat emanating from the stranger’s arm broke Akane’s concentration, and her index finger paused at the border between Tokyo and Kanagawa prefectures. She withdrew her hand and took a step back from the young man. She certainly had wandered into his personal space!

“Th-Thank you for letting me borrow your map,” she said with a polite nod, and she smiled in apology. He looked unimpressed and didn’t answer. He must have thought Akane was quite rude, and it seemed perhaps she had been. 

Akane headed southwest, away from the unfriendly witness to her faux pas. The streetlights lit the sidewalk along a row of modest houses. She passed a balcony hung heavily with wool stockings and the small iron gate of an apartment building, to which a pair of mopeds were chained. Someone had cracked a window even on a chilly evening like this, letting out friendly conversation and steam that smelled of broth. Akane’s stomach growled and her heart stirred, wishing she was having dinner at home. Empathy swelled for her father’s friend Saotome– she had thought he was just a freeloader, but maybe he was lonely with no family of his own. 

Akane herself felt very lonely. How long would it take for her to get to China? Could this really be worth it, just to remember… something? She only had a moment to pity herself before she realized, with a chill, that she wasn’t actually alone on this street. Akane naturally moved at a swift, athletic pace that easily overtook the average person she passed. For this man to keep in step behind her, it was very likely intentional. She sped up, and so did he. Unfortunately for him, Akane wasn’t the helpless young girl she seemed. She spun suddenly into an aggressive stance.

“Unless you want a fight, you’ll stop following me!” she yelled. The man stopped two paces away and showed his empty hands. Akane didn’t sense any malice coming from him, but adrenaline still surged through her, tense and ready to fight.

“Stupid! If I was trying to attack you, you’d know it,” the young man said snidely.

“Is that a threat?!”

“No.” He rolled his eyes. “Just read Kasumi’s notebook already.”

Akane cautiously unzipped her jacket and slipped her hand into the inner lining like an undercover cop at gunpoint drawing her badge. This young man somehow knew her sister’s name and that she had given her this notebook. Before she left, Kasumi had impressed upon Akane the importance of keeping it safe and nearby at all times while she was away. 

Akane, the boy with you is Uncle Saotome’s son and your fiancé, Ranma Saotome. You two are going to China to cure your memory loss.

Ranma took a firm hold of her elbow and resumed their brisk pace, pulling her along.

“Hey! Let go of me!” Akane protested, yanking her arm back. She stumbled a step when Ranma released her.

“Fine, as long as you keep moving,” Ranma said. “We’ll never get there if you stop dead every time you forget me.” He took a few steps and threw her an annoyed glance over his shoulder. “I’m serious!” he added, so petulant that it made him less intimidating, like a child stamping his foot.

Akane huffed. Her, engaged to such an arrogant, disrespectful jerk? What a joke! But, then… Kasumi wouldn’t lie. 

Akane read the two lines again. If this guy had agreed to go so far to help her, then perhaps she could hope it was a case of bad mood rather than bad personality. Akane jogged up beside him and took a curious peek at his face. A pleasant face, now that she looked at it. The photo really didn’t do it justice. Boyishly handsome– a strong jaw and thick masculine brow framing round eyes and a cute stub of a nose. Those eyes flicked toward her, then front again. He softened on a level she sensed rather than saw; he hadn’t been as relaxed as he had seemed. 

“Those jerks,” he said as they made quick work of the next block. “They’ve got no problem piling on souvenir requests, but nobody thought to give us any money.” 

Was he talking about her family? Had he been there for that? Akane couldn’t remember ever seeing him before.

“Last time I swam,” the boy continued, “but even I can’t carry you and both our packs. And a lead weight like you would be lucky to make it across a kiddy pool by herself.”

“ Lead weight? Where did you get the idea you could talk to me like that?” Akane demanded. “Who even are you?!”

“Oh, nobody! Just the guy trying to help you get to China for free !” the boy replied testily. He tapped Akane’s notebook. She read the short phrase above his finger before she glared back at him.

Oooh, this boy was so rude, a complete roughneck, and on top of that… he was Uncle Saotome’s son? That man’s plans could be extreme, irresponsible, and dangerous, and the son seemed much cruder than the father!

“What are you planning to do to get there?” Akane asked him warily. Ranma turned away from the sidewalk ahead but kept running, as surefooted as if it were a leisurely stroll, while he held Akane’s gaze seriously. 

“Whatever it takes,” he promised.

Whatever it takes?!

Her concern mounting, Akane imagined Uncle Saotome’s son forcing her to pose as a stewardess and sneak him onto a plane in an oversized duffel. Maybe he would slash open a sack of rice and make her hide inside to stow away on a ship! Or he could drag her into hitchhiking on a creepy truck and tell the greasy, leering driver he could do whatever he wanted with her if he took them where they needed to go!

“NO!” Akane screamed. “Get away!”

Startled, Ranma’s head whipped behind him. He didn’t see any source of danger in the community garden to the left or the alleyway full of mailboxes near the apartment complex on the right. 

“There’s nothing there, stupid!” he said. He looked back to an empty street. “Huh? Akane?” 

The shock-absorbent soles of Akane’s sneakers wheezed with every slap against the sidewalk. Her footfalls outpaced even her racing heart as she fled in terror. 

“Wait,” she gasped with burning lungs, “why am I running?” 

Ranma’s heels couldn’t screech to a halt fast enough when Akane dropped from a dead sprint to a dead halt. He slammed into her back, and they toppled together onto the pavement. Ranma pushed himself up to his hands and knees. Akane laid below him, flat on her stomach. He hopped to her side and gently shook her shoulder.

“Hey, are you–”

Akane elbowed him off as she rolled over. “Watch where you’re going, jerk!” she scolded. “You ran right into me!” The offender’s eyes flashed with anger as he scowled at her.

“It was all your fault, you stupid clumsy tomboy!”

Something about those words punched them through the membranes in her ears and they went searing straight through her brain. Akane flinched and grabbed her aching head, curling over her knees with a groan. 

“You okay, Akane?” Ranma asked begrudgingly. “Can you stand up?” 

He sighed and extended a hand to her, and she took it, looking up at him with those deep brown eyes full of confusion. Where did she get the gall to pull that crap and then play all cute and innocent and helpless?

“What am I doing on the ground?” she wondered aloud as he helped her up. Ranma’s already cooling anger balled into guilt, from hot flowing lava to a sickeningly condensing lava lamp. 

Man, what’s wrong with me? I lost my cool and shouted at an invalid.

Ranma pursed his lips and, letting go of her, rested his hand on his hip and sighed through his nose. He observed sympathetically as Akane furrowed her brow and cast a paranoid look around the dark street. She said slowly, thoughtfully, “I feel like, just now, I was running from a pervert.”

Irritation immediately returned; Ranma resisted the urge to strangle her.

“Sorry, who are you?” she asked. 

“Ranma. Look in your book,” he replied monotonously.

“My fiancé?” Akane eyed him inquisitively. “Then… the pervert…”

“Forget about that!” Ranma snapped. “There’s no reason you should worry about getting molested!”

Akane lowered her gaze and went silent. Oops. Now he’d done it. At least she’d probably forget what he’d said before she concussed him, or so he figured. But then, to Ranma’s shock, Akane raised her head with rosy cheeks and shining eyes. He could forget how pretty she was when she was scowling, or hitting him, or otherwise treating him like a fly buzzing around her, but the rare times he’d seen her smile like this it simply wasn’t fair. Entirely unfair when she had just acted so un-cute, waited until he’d just forgotten, and then smiled like that directly at him.

“...Because you’re protecting me?” she asked shyly.

“ Huh? ”

She clasped the notebook over her heart and continued smiling up at him with that adorable hopeful smile. It was unnatural to see such a cute look on her face and yet it was the most natural thing in the world. It suited her so well it should be illegal. It suited her so well it should be mandatory. It was a perfect little arc of her lips that completed her cuteness like a careful stroke of pink paint, placed exactly right, on the meticulously beautiful face of a porcelain doll. Ranma’s heart palpitated even more clearly in a still chest as he forgot to breathe. 

“I mean, I… it’s not like I would just stand by and let somethin’ like that happen,” Ranma admitted, glancing between her and his fingertips as he pressed them together. “So I guess I am.”

Akane jotted something in the journal and placed her hand on the inside of Ranma’s arm.

“Okay,” she said brightly. “I’ll let you.”

Ranma felt his face was steaming, giving off telltale vapor in the cold air. He prayed that he didn’t trip and make a fool of himself as he took a few giddy steps forward with Akane on his arm. Then, suddenly, she dropped his elbow and twisted away.

“Gah! Where did you come from?!” she squeaked.

Ranma turned her head back to the notebook.

—

The boy struck a match on a log’s dry bark and dropped it into the tinder below. Akane splintered the last log into firewood as the boy crouched and blew gently on the nascent flame. Who was this boy who, after the flame caught, smiled smugly up at her while light winked in his pale eyes? She must have been sitting here for at least a few minutes. Akane looked to the pile of wood at her feet for answers but found them in the book on her lap. 

The boy wasn’t looking at her anymore. A tarp unfurled from his hands to the ground. It seemed they were making camp for the night. Akane tested the information in the notebook.

“Ranma?” she said. The boy turned around– so that was indeed his name– with hopeful, almost eager attention that told her she was someone important. Could they really be…? Akane stammered, “I-I’ll make myself useful and prepare dinner.”

Ranma grinned. “Alright! I could go for some grub,” he said enthusiastically. 

He even wanted to eat her cooking! This Ranma must really be her fiancé! Akane hastily dug into her backpack for ingredients. Her hand closed around the chilly handle of a heavy cast-iron skillet. A note around the handle in Nabiki’s handwriting read: Protection . That’s right, she said she would pack some. Akane slid it on top of the campfire. 

“Nabiki wasn’t kidding when she said she packed light,” a voice behind her said irritably. Akane jumped. The boy who she guessed must have been Nabiki’s friend held her sleeping bag. Maybe a blush, or maybe a trick from the fire's warm glow, lightly colored his cheeks. He noticed her sudden movement and sighed. “Read the note.”

A fiancé I’ve forgotten? Who said he’d protect me?

Akane looked from the diary on her lap to the skillet full of food, too much for Akane to eat by herself. That’s right, she was cooking paella… for him, too, it seemed. Akane felt a tingle of excitement at the idea of someone, especially a man, letting her cook for him. Her head turned to Ranma. She watched him roll her sleeping bag into a fully assembled green tent she’d never seen before. He fished another sleeping bag out of the tent and brought it near the fire.

“You take the tent,” Ranma said with resignation. “I’ll sleep out here.” 

That tent could hold two people. If they were engaged, and they only had one tent between the two of them, well, Akane could do the math! She flushed wondering what else they usually shared. She felt his eyes on her, trying to read her mind, and for a panicked moment she wondered if he could.

“Did you forget who I am again?” her fiancé said listlessly. Not exactly, but her memory began to slip, and she glanced at her cheat sheet for his name.

“You’re Ranma Saotome,” she said. Ranma’s dull expression lifted into a smile– it went through something like relief but settled on a sort of friendliness. Saying that name conjured a distant echo of familiarity, and maybe it was the fondness that seemed to be reflected on his face, and Akane thought maybe she’d sustained a loss that only Ranma could feel. 

Akane’s eyes drifted back to the tent behind him. Tent. Fiancé. Sharing. Ranma. Akane blushed again and decided to busy herself with the dinner in front of her. She grabbed the handle of the cast-iron skillet and flinched back with a gasp of sharp pain. How long had that been in the fire?

“Geez, Akane. You forgot it was hot, huh?” Ranma sighed out a bit of a laugh as he knelt beside her and held out his hand. “Lemme see.”

Akane, cradling her injured palm against her chest, felt a shock at how casually he addressed her and reached for her. But, of course, they were engaged, so it made sense– or did it? She stared at his outstretched hand, her eyes narrowing and narrowing as the logic melted, like she was waking within a dream. This confusion… her gaze dropped habitually to her lap, and it all snapped back together at the last second. When she looked back at Ranma, something had cooled, and he was beginning to pull away. Akane dropped her hand into his before he withdrew it. He paused.

“Silly me,” Akane said. “Sorry, Ranma.”

Ranma relaxed and scratched the back of his head. “Um… not much of a burn, anyway. Should heal by tomorrow.” He balanced on one foot and hooked the first aid kit closer with a sweep of his flexible leg. He’s in good shape, Akane noticed, but then again, she had already noticed that. “…Want some lidocaine?” Ranma asked.

“Yes. Thanks, Ranma.” 

In repeating his name she chased that familiarity that itched at her mind. Besides, he seemed to like it when she said it, and she was a little curious about that, too. Ranma glanced up with a spark of smile: small, fleeting, yet nonetheless bright. And just like those sparks escaping the campfire, it stung Akane in a way that was almost pleasant. 

Akane hoped he couldn’t feel her heart rate climbing through the pulsing in her burnt palm. She read the note again while Ranma squeezed the cool, quenching gel over it. The message seemed crazy at first, but she was finding she might be able to believe it. His gaze bobbed from the bandage he was wrapping around her hand to her face and back down again. He was the picture of a handsome, attentive prince who made Akane feel like a beautiful princess.

“Ranma?” 

“Hm?” He looked up as his thumb grazed over her hand, sealing the medical tape in place. Akane winced– the pressure stung a little despite how gentle he was. Distracted by her flinching, Ranma lingered, gingerly holding her hand. Akane’s heart skipped a beat.

“A-Are we,” she asked shyly, “in love?”

“Are you nuts?”

They stared at each other blankly. Akane held up the notebook and squinted. She had thought that was just a bad photo, but perhaps it was a different, more awkward person, after all.

“Sorry, I thought you were my fiancé,” she said.

“Our dads decided that, not us!” Ranma protested loudly, with an odd sense of betrayal; aside from Kuno being the absolute worst , this was the one topic on which they were always on the same page. 

Or had been, before yesterday– but that was a rare exception, a temporary insanity. He’d gone and called her his fiancée in front of every idiot at that pair skating match, only for her to go and call the whole thing off an hour later, after Shampoo came and screwed everything up. Talk about humiliating.

“An arranged marriage?” Akane asked. She jotted that down, wondering why she would ever agree to such a thing. She clicked her pen closed thoughtfully. Could it be that she really did–

“Trust me,” Ranma said, “we’re the furthest thing from lovers.” He crossed his arms and faced the fire while he let out a long breath through his nose.

Yeah. It’ll never, ever work, and the sooner I can get that through my thick skull, the better.

“Huh,” Akane said with a shrug. She poked at the embers with a stick and said absent-mindedly, “I thought for sure I would have fallen for a guy who’s as nice to me as you are.”

Ranma froze. Turning his head toward her felt like rotating a boulder and took just as long. Her expression was calm as she dropped the poking stick and dusted off her hands. 

“Akane… what do you mean by that?” he asked.

She furrowed her brow. “Do I know you?”

Ranma quietly fumed while Akane reread the diary page.

Are you saying I’m not usually nice to you, Akane?! If you want nice, I’ll show you nice, alright. I’ll be the nicest guy around, just to prove it to you!

“Oh!” Akane’s exclamation snapped Ranma out of his sulking. “I think this is ready,” she said as she scraped a generous portion of something unidentifiable from the skillet. 

Ranma smugly interlocked his fingers and stretched his shoulders. Throwing him a slowball like complimenting a woman’s cooking! He would knock this “being nice” challenge out of the park. 

“Before you say anything, just know the rice is supposed to be crunchy on the bottom,” Akane said pointedly. Ranma dipped into the pile of dubious sustenance to discover that the rice was, in fact, crunchy all the way through. He wondered how that was even possible, but he held his tongue and sniffed for a virtue to comment on instead.

“Smells… exotic,” he said.

“It’s paella!” Akane informed him excitedly as he took a bite. “Since I brought this saffron along, I thought I might as well use it!” 

Through watering eyes, Ranma saw her proudly present a tin of mustard powder. He choked the mouthful down with immense effort and a healthy swig from his canteen. Akane watched him anxiously as he wiped his runny nose with a trembling hand.

Be nice? Be NICE?! How can I be nice when this girl is such a PAIN?

“Sorry if it isn’t any good,” she said modestly.

“Must’ve… gone down the wrong pipe,” Ranma muttered between hacking coughs. When the coughing spell ended, he started up a new, fake one to avoid eating more.

Ranma crawled into his sleeping bag that night with a hard-earned stomachache. Akane just had to keep adding weird things to try to make the so-called paella taste better. By the end of it, his taste buds had mercifully curled up and died. She was a lot dumber than he’d thought, but on the other hand, he was the idiot who ended up eating the whole thing. He groaned through a cramp, and his heavy eyelids drooped.

“Are we in love?”

No, stupid, we’re not in love. 

Ranma lay still, pouting. What would have happened if he’d said– said what? Yes? That’d be a shameless lie if he ever heard one, and with his upbringing, he’d certainly heard plenty! And what would he be expecting, anyway? That she’d take his word for it and, what, kiss a total stranger? 

What did you want me to say, Akane? 

“The most interest you EVER show is clobberin’ me when another girl pays me attention, which you NEVER do, by the way, so don’t even ask me why I like you at all in the first place!” 

“Man, am I pathetic,” Ranma said under his breath before he closed his eyes.

—

Shampoo soundlessly dropped from her perch hidden in the evergreen oak. To sleep so close, where she could nearly feel the warmth of their fire, would be foolishly risky. Her great-grandmother would have said her spying here so long, without going for the kill, was foolish enough. Shampoo smiled at the handsome face poking from the mummy-style sleeping bag. She would see him look so sweet like this every night soon. But patience had never been her strong suit. 

Shampoo crept closer to the tent where her rival lay. She could end it here, with one quiet blow– or, at the very least, a quick one. If he woke too soon afterward, he might be displeased with her. Shampoo’s great-grandmother told her not to worry about such lovers’ tiffs, as they were quite normal. The real problem would be if he woke before she finished. Then he would stop her, and Shampoo would lose the precious element of surprise. 

She examined the lime green polyester structure. No windows to see in, or if there were, that unusually modest girl had zipped them closed so he could not see her change. Considerate, in one way: Shampoo would rather her husband not peep on other women. Inconvenient, in another: Shampoo could not determine her position or whether she was deeply asleep. Shampoo pouted her rounded lips into a cute plump oval and shook her head to herself. Too risky, too risky.

Instead she would continue to follow them with a bottle of formula #911 stuffed in her dress. Ranma was determined to undo the Xi Fa Xiang Gao, so why bother trying to stop him? It was smarter to offer him what he wants while she could still get something in return. Too bad he had to bring that girl along; a violent ex-fiancée would kill the mood of any marriage proposal. But international backpacking trips can be full of unfortunate accidents– those tragic news stories that make aunties cluck their tongues and say, That kind of thing happens all the time, you know. Shampoo would wait, impatiently, for an opportunity to catch the girl alone. 

Shampoo blew a silent kiss goodnight to her beloved. It was time to find a more secure tree for sleeping, and there was no need to eavesdrop again. What she’d heard had eased her mind. Those two weren’t in love; they weren’t even sharing a tent! Add in the horrible cooking, and Shampoo had absolutely nothing to worry about. So she would make her great-grandmother proud and track them at a distance until she was ready to strike. Luckily, persistence had always been her strong suit.

Chapter Text

The morning after a late shift at her part-time job, a young woman yawned and rested her head against the bus window. As usual, it was too bumpy for comfort, so she propped her chin on her hand again and gazed idly at the clouds until the driver pulled up to the chemistry department building. She spotted a strange shadow and wondered if she was dreaming, after all. 

There was an unsettling sound on the wind. A freckled man braked on the smoothly laid brick path to inspect his bicycle, but then he heard that faint screeching again, although the machine stood still. Young people walking through the grass with textbooks in their arms twisted curiously toward the sky. The university shuttle groaned to a stop, and students clamored from its hissing doors shouting and pointing.

The boy leapt through campus on the roofs of the brutalist university buildings. He held Akane by her backpack, and she screamed as she dangled from it like a skydiver with an unopened parachute.

“AIYEEEEE! Put me down, whoever you are!”

“No chance,” said the boy, who had heard it two hundred times already and bothered to reply perhaps only every twentieth. “I wanna get to China before Christmas.”

The recruiter, a clean-cut gentleman in his late thirties, paused in the grass. His peers considered themselves progressives, and he thought himself even less conservative than they. He tended toward tolerance when he visited a university campus, where young people often experimented with the boundaries of tradition and social norms. However, he could not simply overlook such unseemly conduct. The glove that peeked from the rear pocket of his trousers went snugly over his hand. Sunlight glinted off titanium alloy. Sod chipped. 

His target tumbled from the air into the brick campus plaza. Akane heard a nasty whap , a grunt of pain, and her captor’s neck crack as the golf ball hit him in the face, the force of it throwing his trajectory to the side. Foreseeing the crash, Akane gasped and twisted around her backpack, grabbed his wrist, and broke his hold on it, only for his other arm to clamp around her waist. With a strangled shriek, Akane seized the collar of his shirt and kneed him in the groin, but despite his cursing he stubbornly held onto her as they went skidding to the ground. Akane landed on the boy’s stomach without injury while he moaned and curled around the deep ache shooting up his abdomen. Akane dug into her backpack for the cast-iron skillet and beat the impertinent stranger into unconsciousness.

“How dare you manhandle me!” she cried. She stood indignantly and stalked off past the small crowd of whispering and gaping students. The recruiter mushed the divot back into the lawn before he jogged after her.

“Miss, are you alright?” he asked. “That person was harassing you, wasn’t he?”

Akane frowned. “Who do you mean?”

The lightly tanned gentleman nodded toward a disheveled boy limping toward the two of them on a walking stick.

The disheveled boy said through gritted teeth, “More like she’s harassing me! ”

“I’ve never seen you before in my life!” Akane said, appalled.

“This young lady says she doesn’t know you,” said the recruiter disdainfully. “I suggest you leave her alone.”

The injured younger man scowled at the polished older one. “Shut up, caddy boy!” he said. “None of this is any of your concern.”

The gentleman drew a five-iron from the club carrier on his back. “This is your last warning,” he said, eerily calm. The boy gripped his crutch more tightly and smirked.

“Yours, too,” he said with confidence that defied his physical condition. “Akane and I are engaged, got it? So butt out and go polish your clubs.”

“Engaged, my foot!” Akane scoffed. “It’s anyone’s guess how you even learned my name!”

The gentleman clucked his tongue. “A man who refuses a lady’s rejection is nothing more than a shameless grub on the turfgrass of life,” he said. “Stand aside, miss, so I may exterminate this pest.”

“Why, you–”

“No!” Akane stepped between the two men and grabbed onto the shaft of the five-iron to prevent its backswing. “Don’t you see this vagabond is injured? He can’t even stand.”

“I am not a vagabond!” the boy snapped. “And I can, too, stand!” 

Akane yanked his walking stick away and the boy crashed to the ground. “Doesn’t look like it,” she said pointedly, twirling the stick. 

The boy gaped at her with an enraged look of betrayal as he tried to pick himself up on wobbling arms. Akane pushed down on his back with the end of the walking stick and told him with a frown, “Stay down already. I’m trying to help you.”

“If you want to help me,” spat the boy splayed on the ground, “then stop accusing me of harassment and read your notebook. My picture’s in there.”

“Why would your picture be in my notebook?” Akane asked skeptically.

“Just look and you’ll see!”

“Perhaps you should humor him?” suggested the man with the golf club. 

The crippled boy glared at both of them while Akane opened the notebook. A photo was indeed taped there. 

“Wow,” Akane said. “I have a fiancé?”

“Yeah– me!” insisted the young man impatiently.

Akane’s eyes flicked back and forth, comparing the photo to the stranger on the ground. After a moment, she shook her head. “I don’t see the resemblance. This photo is of a regular boy, and you– well, no offense, but– you look more like an ogre.”

“Gee, I wonder if that has anything to do with you hitting me in the face with a frying pan! ”

“That’s it!” Akane said with a scowl, rearing back the walking stick. “I don’t know who you are or what your problem is, but I’ve had enough of your lies! ” 

The stick swung forward like a pendulum and smacked the boy over the trees lining the edge of campus. The students watching clapped with impressed oohs . 

The recruiter whistled. “What a pitch! Miss, do you happen to be free this afternoon?”

“ Sir , aren’t you a little too old to be asking me that?” Akane asked, narrowing her eyes.

The man cleared his throat. “I apologize for the misunderstanding. You see, the Tochikawa Golf Club is holding a special amateur tournament for young ladies.” He flicked his finger confidently through a small accordion folder. “They have only just opened their doors to women and are looking to attract talented female golfers like yourself.” He handed her a slip of paper– an official invitation to participate.

“Me?” Akane wondered. She gave the recruiter an awkward smile. “That’s very flattering, but I am on my way somewhere.”

“It’s a beautiful course and an excellent opportunity. Not to mention the generous two million yen grand prize,” the recruiter said. “I must recover my ball, but please consider it.”

“T-Two million yen?” Akane repeated to herself at a whisper after the recruiter turned his back. She stared at the invitation. “With that much money…”

“We could go to China first-class!” a strange young man exclaimed over her shoulder. Akane jumped. 

“How long have you been there? And what happened to you– do you need me to call an ambulance?” she asked. The stranger wavered on his feet, favoring his left side. His face was a lumpy mess of bruises, pine needles were stuck in his mussed black hair, and his limbs were scratched.

“A dorky girl happened to me,” he said flatly. “But never mind that. Where is this Tochikawa Golf Club?”

Akane read the address on the invitation. It was practically on her way, and she could really use the prize money. She looked up at the injured boy. “I suppose I can walk you there.”

The boy blinked and gave her a peculiar look. “Um… sure.” 

Akane picked up the boy’s arm and draped it over her shoulder. He gulped, his eyes wide and uncertain. “You can lean on me,” she assured him with a friendly smile. “I’m stronger than I look.” The boy blushed and pulled his arm back.

“So am I,” he said pridefully. 

Akane shrugged. “Alright. Suit yourself.”

Ranma placed his weight as evenly as he could and tried not to limp. He understood he would have to improvise until the swelling went down, but playing the role of a weakling in need of her help was out of the question! Then Akane suddenly sped up to her habitual brisk jog.

“Hey! Don’t just run off!” Ranma yelled. 

He hobbled rapidly after her as she rushed off campus. Around a blind corner, a first-year’s bicycle careened side to side with careless speed, its owner late for a quiz on molecular orbital theory.

“Yah!” Ranma yelped as he caught sight of it. He stopped short with a twist of his body only to stumble on his injured leg and fall flat under the wheel of the bicycle. 

“Sorry!” said the harried first-year, who tried to veer off but only managed to crack Ranma’s back in new places. As Ranma’s arms twitched across the pavement, Akane disappeared through the gap in the ivy-laden brick wall around the campus

“Akane, wait!” Ranma yelled.

After a moment’s hesitation, Akane peeked back around the pillars of the gate. A boy with narrow tire tracks across his back kept his eyes on her as he planted his palms on the path and struggled to his knees. She thought he looked a little too young to be a student at the university, but his face was so bruised and swollen, it was difficult to discern his age.

“Are you talking to me?” she called to him without coming any closer. “Who are you?”

Ranma gnashed his teeth and forced out the words in a mismatched disgruntled tone, the politeness awkward on his tongue. “Miss? Could you please help me get to the Tochikawa Golf Club?” he said.

“Oh… okay,” Akane said. “I was just headed there myself.”

She jogged back to him and helped him onto her shoulder again. Ranma sighed, giving her a scornful sidelong glance as they crossed the gate onto the sidewalk. 

Guess I don’t have much choice. At least she’s not trying to give me a piggyback ride.

The sidewalk abruptly eroded, became cracked and uneven, when they stepped off the last block of the university campus. Young adults in transit from their leaky apartments to morning classes opted to rollerblade, bike, and longboard down the road instead. Akane surveyed the residential street as the smell of detergent and lint pumped hot from the garden-level window of a basement laundry room.

“Did we make a wrong turn to the health clinic?” she asked. “I’m not a student here, so you’ll have to tell me where to go.”

The boy sighed gruffly. “We’re not going to no clinic,” he said shortly, “and we go to the same school, for crying out loud! S’not like anyone would mistake an underdeveloped idiot like you for a university student, anywa–eeeyouch!”

“Is that any way to talk to someone who’s helping you?” Akane huffed, twisting his arm. Off-balance, the rude boy dropped to one knee, and he scowled up at her with a tear in his eye.

“Sorry,” he said resentfully.

Akane righted his arm and squatted beside him. She squinted at his battered face as she hoisted him back up. “Do you really go to Furinkan High?” she asked.

“Yes, Akane Tendo, class 1-F, I really go to Furinkan High,” he said sardonically.

“Gosh, but I don’t remember… unless… oh, no.” Akane’s wide eyes narrowed again as her face pinched in a mix of chagrin and disgust. “Are you one of those guys who challenges me every morning?”

“Yeah, right!” the young man scoffed. “You wouldn’t be any kind of challenge for me , but I’d never try to date you in the first place!”

Akane’s elbow crashed onto the crown of his head. “All these insults, and for what?” she demanded. “What did I ever do to you?”

The young man rubbed the bump on his head and seethed, “You want a list? ” He stood with difficulty, one leg failing when he put weight on it, and clung to a lamppost.

“I don’t have to take this from some jerk.” Akane straightened her posture and started off down the sidewalk alone, waving behind her without looking back. “Good luck!” she called bitingly.

“Stop! Come back!”

Akane’s eyes widened when she turned around, and she hurried back to examine him with concern. Her gaze flitted around his injuries as she asked, “Are you okay? Can I take you to a hospital?”

The young man leaning on the pole, papered with tearaway phone number flyers advertising calculus tutoring and guitar lessons, studied Akane for the length of a long, deep breath before he replied.

“I’m okay,” he said. His pained expression suggested otherwise as he raised his arm, letting her step under it to support him. “Can you just bring me to that Tochikawa place?”

“The golf club?” Akane asked, surprised. “I’m actually going there, too.”

The young man muttered, almost under his breath, “What a coincidence.”

They turned up the block toward a busy intersection. Ranma tested his bad leg discreetly as they waited at the crosswalk, hoping he’d be able to walk it off soon. Akane graced him with another of those angelic smiles, and Ranma cursed the powers that let her look so cute and sweet after the violent brutality she had put him through. He irritably turned his head straight forward; if he kept looking at her, she’d undoubtedly make a fool out of him sooner or later.

“I’m Akane,” she said while they walked over the painted white stripes. 

“Ranma.”

Ranma kept his eyes resolutely off of her. Akane opened her mouth when they reached a rift in the sidewalk where a tree root had grown under the pavement, but the warning died in her throat as Ranma easily stepped over it. It struck Akane that he seemed more frustrated than in pain, and she wondered why he had asked for her help.

“So, Ranma,” she began, “can you tell me why I’m taking you to a country club instead of to a doctor?”

“Can’t miss the tournament,” he said resolutely.

“Are you a big fan of golf?” Akane asked. 

She gave him a discreet once-over; under the injuries, he definitely had something of an athletic build. Ranma’s chest shrugged with a small, silent sigh as they walked past a gaggle of students leaving a convenience store with canned coffee and the plastic-wrapped snacks they would call breakfast. Then he glanced at her, a small turn of the head.

“Nah. But I know someone who’s competing,” he said.

“Oh, really? Is she any good?” Akane asked slyly, fishing for information on her competition.

Ranma blew a short laugh through his nose. “I can tell ya this much: she’s got a real strong downswing,” he said. 

Akane noted how the smile lingered on his lips and wondered if this person was more than just a friend. She felt ashamed that she had been afraid of his monstrously deformed face at first; although ugly, he seemed rather sweet.

“I’m sure she’ll be happy to know that you’re cheering her on,” Akane said. 

Ranma’s smile twisted ruefully. “That’s where you’re wrong. She tends to forget I even exist.”

“Oh.” A one-sided crush… not really surprising, unfortunately. Akane grimaced. “Still, she’s lucky,” she said to pave over the awkwardness. He raised his eyebrows skeptically, and she added, “It’s always nice to have someone rooting for you." 

“You don’t have to try to cheer me up or nothing,” he said as ahead of them, the urban sprawl was thinning into warehouses and countryside. “Just forget I mentioned it.”

Akane, fumbling her road map out of her pocket, blinked in confusion. “Sorry, what were we talking about just now? And who are you again?”

The boy with the swollen face grinned. “I’m Ranma Saotome. You’re helping me get to the women’s golf tournament so I can watch my friend.”

“I am?” 

Akane looked him up and down. That, coupled with how he looked like he’d fallen down a flight of stairs, would explain why his arm was around her. He sure was devoted, going all banged up and dirty like this.

“I’m also competing, so maybe I’ll run into your friend,” she said conversationally. “What’s her name?”

“It’s Akane,” he said. 

His steady gaze captured her for a moment, sucked her in; the eye contact pulled into place like loose debris unexpectedly plugging the hose of a vacuum cleaner. Sudden movement, pupils locking on pupils– sudden silence, her brain simply… quiet. What was wrong with her? It’s a very common name. How long had it been since she should’ve said something?

“...That’s my name, too,” she said. 

Those blue-grey eyes, familiar somehow, softened a little. They released her, a little bit, enough for her to feel back in her body– enough for the awareness of their closeness to creep in, and warmth crawled over Akane’s shoulders with an odd sense of intimacy. She thought she should be more uncomfortable with it, considering they’d only just introduced themselves, but she found herself holding onto that feeling, trying to place it. Then, after too long and too soon, Ranma looked away.

“So, Akane ,” he said, shooting her a grin as he emphasized her name like she’d taught him a new word from a foreign language, “how’s your golf game?”

“I’ve never really played.” Akane caught Ranma’s full weight as his knees buckled. “Gee, are you alright there?” she asked. “You look pale.”

“You’ve never played?!” he repeated, flabbergasted. “But the tournament’s this afternoon!”

Akane’s shoulders didn’t move much but pressed lightly up into his arm with a suppressed shrug. “Oh, I know the basics,” she said nonchalantly. A little pride perked up her lips before she added, “And that recruiter seemed to think I’m a natural.”

Ranma gaped at her incredulously. Akane raised her eyebrows.

“Don’t worry about me– you should be worried about your friend!” she said with playfully competitive flair. “Since I’ll be taking first prize.” 

“Is that so?” Ranma said with a grin. Now that’s what I wanted to hear!

Akane smirked back at him. “Go ahead and bet on it.”

“Ohoho! Why so cocky all of a sudden?”

“Hmph. I refuse to lose to another Akane,” she replied smugly. “She’s going down!”

“I dunno,” Ranma mused. “The Akane I know is one tough jock…”

“Then maybe your Akane will come in second place.”

His laugh startled Akane, unintentionally shaking her body through their touching shoulders. He said, “Don’t think she’ll settle for second place."

“Who won’t?” Akane asked. She frowned at him. “Are we going the right way to the hospital?”

The boy’s smile faded from his slightly swollen cheeks. “Nobody,” he said. “Look… thanks, but I can walk on my own now. Good luck at the tournament.”

“My” Akane, huh? There’s no such person.

Ranma tested his leg and hopped over the train tracks built up on a small hill beside the sidewalk. Akane spared him one strange look, one scrunch of her nose, before she continued to the tournament. Ranma sighed and jogged along from the other side of the tracks, keeping his eyes on the girl below. 

I could take her ticket and enter instead, but who knows where she’d wander off to in the meantime? Not like I have any more experience with that stupid so-called sport, anyway, so… suppose I’ll just have to trust her.

—

A sleek convertible cruising past caught Akane’s eye, and she turned down an unmarked driveway flanked by hedges. The curb came into view as she jogged uphill, and she noticed that the other vehicles piling up along it were also of luxury make. Smartly uniformed valets greeted the discreet town cars one after the other like a video clip on loop. Almost every time it was a refined-looking woman emerging from the car with an excited smile, followed by a husband who either shrugged with amusement or sighed, surly. A stately Tudor-style club house, less of a house and more of a modern castle, formed the backdrop of it all.

Akane felt underdressed and underwashed, but she kept her chin high under the doorman’s scrutiny. 

“Welcome, honored guests,” he said. He looked past Akane. “Sir, may I see your membership card?”

“Uh,” said the young man, whom Akane hadn’t noticed standing way too close behind her. He scratched his cheek and looked at Akane for help. She didn’t know why, but it was neither here nor there. How dare the doorman ignore her, when she was here first! She cleared her throat and thrust out her invitation.

“Excuse me,” she said passive-aggressively. “I was invited to participate in the tournament today.”

The doorman bowed. “Thank you, miss. Please proceed to reception for directions to our brand new ladies’ facilities. Your guest may follow the signs to your left to the white tent, as the invitation only grants club house entry for yourself.”

Akane glanced at the person behind her and waved dismissively at the doorman. “Who, him? No, we’re not– eep!” she squealed as the young man grasped her hand firmly.

“I’ll leave this to you, Akane,” he said seriously. Akane sweated under the intent stare of a stranger who somehow knew her name. “Mop the floor with those prissy country club girls, okay? I know you won’t let me down.”

Akane pulled her hand back with a timid smile. “Do we know each other?” 

“Do you have to start with that again right now? ” the boy said, crossing his arms. “I’m trying to tell you I’ll be rooting for you. So go win this thing.”

“O-Okay,” Akane said, eyes flicking between this strange boy and the impassive doorman observing them. “I will.” She slipped inside wondering what that was all about. Ranma shot a glare at the doorman.

“Sir, if you’d like to purchase a ticket to the event–”

“Yeah, yeah, white tent, I heard ya the first time.”

Ranma snuck around the bustle at the ticketing tent through the trees lining the signature hole with splotches of autumnal color. He slipped into the crowd standing in the rough, buzzing about the event. He ignored the dirty looks while he dropped his pack on the ground and sat back against it with a bag of popcorn. 

“Might as well enjoy the break,” he murmured as he dug his hand into the bag. 

A purple rope divided the spectator’s section from the tee box marked with a stake of the same color. Looking out across the course, Ranma noted the rope broke into other colors to mark different sections: blue, yellow, pink, orange, red. The crowd suddenly hushed, aside from a lone wolf whistle, and Ranma’s heart kicked into overdrive as a familiar young woman ascended with a smile to the teeing area and flipped her long purple hair.

Akane stepped onto the rough feeling refreshed and relieved to put down her heavy pack for a while. She wore a visor and her emerald green long-sleeve polo with a pink collar hung over the tight waistband of a matching pink athletic skirt. The tournament organizer in the golf cart pointed her toward the tee box; she could see the colorful stake sticking out of the grass. She nodded good-naturedly at the spectators who politely fell quiet beyond the rope as she walked up and took her place. The club’s signature course was as beautiful as it was unusual. It was carved into a perfect circle not far south of the base of Mount Fuji. The hole was dead center, its green surrounded by a moat of a water hazard. Not to mention the six tee boxes and six golfers equidistant around the course.

A man’s mellow voice, more suited for a children’s book on tape than sports commentary, broke across the air from loudspeakers mounted everywhere. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. The inaugural Tochikawa Ladies’ Martial Golf Invitational will begin momentarily.” 

“ Martial golf…?” Akane said to herself. “Maybe I should have read the fine print!”

“Allow me to take a moment to review the rules of this competition. All contestants will play the combat course simultaneously from their assigned tee boxes. The player who sinks her ball in the fewest strokes wins. Swings against an opponent’s ball or person count as strokes. And, as always, play it as it lies.”

Akane nodded slowly. “Got it,” she said, clenching her fingers over her fingerless white glove. “I’ll do my best to win!”

The announcement concluded, “From everyone here at Tochikawa to all our lovely competitors today, we wish you the best of luck. At the sound of the gong, you may begin.”

Akane nestled the complimentary rental driver against the tee and shook out her shoulders. When the gong rang out deeply over the course, four neon golf balls flew high into the air. Akane watched with delight how far and straight her own ball soared, to the green, past the green… way past the green, on the other side of the course. Oops. She took off running. 

Akane kept her eyes on the spot where her ball had landed as she bounded across the turfgrass. Only when she sensed an opponent gunning for her did she break that line of sight. 

“Oh, no, you don’t!” shouted the girl, maybe a few years older than Akane. Her curled ponytail bounced from her floral-patterned baseball cap as she ran, a wood in her manicured hand. 

Akane spotted a bright blue ball ahead of her on the fairway and grinned, swinging back her driver like a hockey stick. “Don’t what? This?” she said. She smacked the blue ball as hard as she could into the trees. The spectators clapped politely.

“Triple bogey!” the blue golfer cursed. She menacingly reached into the carrier on her back and swapped her fairway wood for an iron. At that moment, Akane realized she’d forgotten her bag in the teeing area. “You’ll pay for that,” she threatened.

“Woah!” Akane blocked her opponent’s swing with her driver and kicked the iron out of her hand. “Ha! Looks like you whiffed,” she said. The club bounced onto the grass two meters away. Akane and the girl with the ponytail looked from it to each other.

Akane rammed her body elbow-first into the blue golfer’s ribs as they both lunged for the iron on the ground. The other clubs jostled noisily in the carrier, giving her a new idea– she grabbed the entire collection and ran for it. 

“Hey!” Blue yelled, her head whipping angrily from her empty carrier to her rapidly retreating rival. 

Akane kept the bundle tucked tightly under her arm as she made her way toward the hole and tried to regain sight of her own ball. As she jumped over a sand bunker, a yellow ball speeded from Akane’s right to hit her in midair. Akane fell on her elbows and knees in the sand, her chin banging against the pile of golf clubs and a welt rising on her ribs. Akane scooped up the stolen clubs, then paused to quickly pile sand over the yellow ball that had fallen beside her. First she noticed the sand’s odd consistency, and second she noticed that she had sunk halfway up her thighs, weighed down by the metal clubs in her lap. Akane gasped and pushed all aside except for one, plowing the wedge into the turf above the deep pit of quicksand. Her muscles strained to pull herself out of the bunker, and she stepped on the abandoned clubs as a foothold to finally break free. She looked back, briefly, to see the quicksand greedily consuming them. Akane could already see the yellow golfer, pushing back her bob with designer sunglasses and heading her way fast. 

“Ugh! Not the sand,” the newcomer complained. She tossed her sunglasses to the side, spun her club, and smirked. “At least I hit a little birdie.” 

Akane scrambled to her feet. “Come at me!” she challenged, raising her hands. 

Yellow darted forward, and so did Akane. She jumped over the swing of her opponent’s club and landed around her back, only to see the girl with the ponytail sneaking up on them both from behind. Caught, Blue charged into an overhead strike while Yellow spun on her heel with a tight, powerful swing. Akane dodged to the side, and the blue golfer’s club swiped down to pin the other’s to the ground. While her two opponents clashed, Akane shoved Blue to knock them both into the sand trap. 

Akane made a break for her ball, leaving the two opponents she’d met dizzy and tangling in the quicksand. If any of the other three had gotten to her ball first, it could be anywhere by now, but Akane’s hopes swelled when she spotted a flurry of activity on the other side of the hole-- clubs clashing, a flash of a white dress, and long purple hair blowing in the breeze. Two of the other players were already engaged in combat on the rough, still perhaps two hundred meters from the green. And then, there was the red ball! She saw it, miraculously near!

Akane faced the flag and swung, striking the ball perfectly on the grooves of the wedge. It exploded in red powder, sending Akane into a coughing fit. Only her sixth sense, attuned to bloodlust, let her know to duck under the neon pink golf ball that whizzed over her head, cutting through the cloud of dust. Through that slice of clear air, Akane saw a pair of eyes, surgically lifted and double-lidded, full of malicious intent. Akane broke from the cloud before a club cracked over her skull. The wind brushed the red haze away to reveal the pink golfer’s pearly sneer. She tossed her French braid over the shoulder of her quarter-zip, half of a matching set with her skirt, both in a modern geometric print. 

“Fool,” she said. “Don’t you know your real ball is at the bottom of the sand trap by now?”

Akane smirked. “So I’ll dig it out… after I bury you .” 

A scream in crescendo disrupted their standoff as the other two players rapidly approached.

“...ore! Fore! FORE! FORE!” 

The pink and red golfers’ eyes bulged at the golf cart tearing up the fairway and revving straight for them. The shrieking girl clung helplessly to its roof while the crazed driver smirked and floored the gas pedal. Pink screamed and dodged aside while Akane dove to the ground and threw her club into the cart’s front axle. Akane rolled out of the way while the cart reared forward into a dramatic stoppie and flung off its unfortunate passenger, who crashed head-first into the pink golfer’s face. Pink cried out in pain, clutching her nose. The other girl sat up on her lap.

“Sorry! Are you okay?” she asked frantically, flitting from squat to squat like an anxious hummingbird as she jumped around the tearful pink golfer’s shoulders.

Pink looked at her, lowered her hands, and blood splashed onto the white spandex of the other girl’s sleeveless dress, matching the red of the curled dragon emblem printed small over her left breast. 

“My nose… it’s broken,” she said, thick and congested through the blood.

“Erk,” gulped the girl in the white dress. “I’m so…”

“Now insurance will pay toward my rhinoplasty!” the pink golfer gasped. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

She shook her bewildered competitor’s hands and skipped giddily off the course for the first aid tent. Meanwhile, two bare shapely legs swung from the driver’s seat of the golf cart, careful not to flash their owner’s underwear from a mini dress certainly not designed for sports. The girl in the cart hopped down the fairway and flourished her driver as she smiled down upon her only two opponents.

“Good, only us now,” said Shampoo. “How nice to lead me to female Ranma, Akane, so I can kill you both together.”

“I knew you weren’t just here to play, Shampoo,” the girl in the soiled white dress said. 

“No,” said Shampoo. “Silly scores don’t matter for the prize I’ll win today.”

So these two knew each other? Akane stared curiously at the other girl, and it struck her how beautiful this Ranma was, even bruised and blood-splattered. Something about her captivated Akane, seemed to draw her in, to draw in everything around them, energy swirling into a vortex she could suck in at any moment. The fervor in her steely eyes threatened to swallow anything in her path, and the way it juxtaposed her delicate face made her beauty all the more compelling.

Shampoo turned toward Akane. “You not only get in the way of Shampoo’s happiness but hide female Ranma, too. Too annoying to let live.”

“I thought you were nuts to begin with, but now you’ve really lost it,” Akane said. “I’ve never even met this girl before.”

“You lie!” Shampoo yelled as she leapt at Akane, brandishing her club. 

Akane ducked, expecting the swoosh of a heavy object swinging over her head, but it didn’t come. When she looked up, she saw a black braid running down the back of a white dress. Ranma held fast to the shaft of the club, locked in struggle with Shampoo. She turned her head, her fierce, striking eyes glaring at Akane from over her shoulder. 

“Run, stupid!” she said.

“But you–”

“Forget about me!” Ranma said. 

She pushed back on the club, throwing Shampoo far back. Shampoo sprung to her feet from the ground and attacked, but Ranma weaved expertly around her punches. Akane’s jaw dropped watching. The other players may have been better golfers, but this girl was leagues above any of them in martial arts. Ranma’s pretty face scrunched into a scowl.

“I said, forget about me , you idiot!” she snapped. “Go finish the game!” 

She took her own club carrier from her shoulder and tossed it at Akane, who in her daze caught it somehow, although she was blinded by the afterimage of Ranma’s eyes, gorgeous with anger, seared onto hers like a brand.

Akane didn’t understand but didn’t argue. She felt like she was tripping as she started for the nearest sand trap, her legs falling clumsily on the grass, luck and muscle memory keeping her upright.

“Not in there, dummy!” Ranma yelled. “Over there!” She jerked her thumb toward a patch of tall grass while she broke Shampoo’s driver with a kick. 

Between Ranma and the pink golfer, Akane’s instinct told her to trust Ranma. She ran into the unmowed rough, where a bright red sphere lay in the grass. Akane grabbed a 7-iron and, with a silent prayer, swung. Her ball landed near the edge of the central ring of water, not far from where Ranma and Shampoo battled and only twenty meters from the hole. One gentle upward stroke, and she’d be on the green. Akane closed the distance before the ball stopped moving. As she readied her next swing, a neon yellow ball dropped onto the putting green and rolled into the hole.

“Ha!” gasped Yellow as she climbed into view. She collapsed on her hands and knees. A polite smattering of applause resounded from the crowd before they faded into considerate silence again.

“Miu Hayami, in yellow, is the first to complete the hole with ten strokes,” came the sedate announcement. “Only one player remains in contention for first place. She is Akane Tendo, in red, currently with seven strokes.”

“I… I can still win!” Akane exclaimed.

“Too bad you die before that happens!” Shampoo yelled. She sprinted toward Akane.

“No!” Ranma pounced on Shampoo’s ankles and flipped in the air, flinging Shampoo backward and herself forward. They both crashed to the ground– Shampoo on her back, the girl with the braid on her stomach. She looked up at Akane as she planted her hands on the grass. 

“Hurry and take the shot,” she said. She hopped to her feet and smiled confidently. “I’ve got Shampoo.”

“Why–”

“Shaddup and go win already!” she said angrily, stomping her foot. Over her scowl, Akane saw Shampoo charging with murderous glare and a club gripped tight in each hand. 

“Duck!” Akane shouted, and Ranma did. 

From short range, her golf ball clocked Shampoo right between the eyebrows with exceptional force. Shampoo’s clubs clunked innocuously over Ranma’s head, only gravity behind them as she fell, unconscious. The bright red ball bounced from her forehead straight into the ring of water surrounding the putting green. Akane and Ranma watched in horror as it sank.

“That marks eight points for Akane Tendo,” reported the announcer calmly. “She may play from the edge of the water hazard at the cost of one penalty stroke.”

“You… you idiot! Why did you do that!?” Ranma fumed.

“Shampoo was about to knock you into next week!” Akane retorted. “So don’t call me an idiot!”

Ranma slapped her forehead and shook her head into her palm. “I’ll call you an idiot all I want, considering you just threw away first place!” she said, throwing her hand down emphatically.

“No, I didn’t,” Akane said resolutely. “Not if I play it as it lies!” 

She marched to the edge of the water and stepped in, expecting it to go to her thigh at the highest, but her rear leg buckled as the hazard immediately enveloped her. It was truly a moat, deceptively deep, and Akane thrashed as it swallowed her and dragged her down, down, and how was it still going down? She flailed desperately for the sunlight filtering down from above, where the air was, but it was growing dimmer. A shadow eclipsed more and more of the sun as Akane’s grasp weakened, and the club finally slipped from her fingers.

Ranma cursed and jumped in after that stupid troublesome girl as soon as she disappeared. Whose bright idea was it to make this thing ten meters deep? He swam toward the bubbles that dissipated as Akane stopped moving and wrapped his arm around her waist. Something shiny glinted at the bottom– her club, and next to it, her ball. Ranma kicked up to the surface and laid Akane on the grass before he sighed, shook his head, and dove back in. 

“Hey, Akane,” someone was saying. “This is no time to sleep, Akane…”

Her polo was glued to her skin and freezing everywhere but her right shoulder, where a warm weight pressed through the fabric. The weight disappeared as she rolled toward it, onto her side, and coughed up water. Akane relished breathing air again, though the wind chilled her inside and out. She found herself staring at a pair of bare knees, pink in the cold, and her gaze passed up to white spandex pleats clinging to goosepimpled thighs, to blood leeching burnt orange through wet fabric across a full bust, to a cute face with a carefully neutral expression spoiled only by a pair of invested blue-grey eyes. Ranma was kneeling next to her, sopping wet. 

“You saved me,” Akane said.

“Yeah, well… don’t mention it,” the other girl mumbled.

Akane sat up and took a good look at her face. The front section of her hair was chopped short and shaggy like a boy’s haircut, and damp, it curled gently down to her high cheekbones, where there was a light blush. She was staring off somewhere in the distance, and Akane could see that her long eyelashes, too, were curly.

“You’re pretty amazing,” Akane said. “Who are you?”

“Heh.” Ranma grinned. “I’m Ranma Saotome, and I’m gonna remember you said that. Now c’mon– you’ve got one stroke left to win, so make it count this time.”

“Huh?” 

Akane realized then that they were both on the other side of the water barrier, on the green. Her red ball winked at her one meter from the hole. Akane looked back at Ranma, who looked away aloofly again. Akane picked up a discarded putter, tossed the flag to the side, and sank the ball. The crowd applauded mildly as it rattled in the white plastic of the subterranean cup.

“Thus concludes our First Ladies’ Martial Golf Tournament. Winner: Akane Tendo, nine points. I hope everyone enjoyed this rousing competition as much as we have here in the commentary box,” said the tranquil voice over the loudspeakers.

“I won… yes! I won!” Akane jumped up and down in celebration, water droplets on her skin dancing with her, her waterlogged shirt flapping heavily around her hips. There was a sour look on Ranma’s face that evaporated when Akane hugged her. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she said, “but I won!”

—

Ranma followed Akane and an entourage of men with tournament organizer batches through the rear door of the club house. Its teakwood interior was warmly lit by thousands of delicate bulbs on the chandelier draping from the vaulted ceiling, which resembled a gently flowing stream. A portly middle-aged man in a suit with sunspots curving around his left eye handed Akane an envelope. 

“I am so pleased,” he said in a rich baritone, “to present you with this waiver for our membership fee plus one year’s dues, valued at two million yen.” Akane and Ranma blanched.

“A… a membership…?” Akane repeated helplessly.

“Are you kiddin’ me?!” Ranma said bluntly. “I thought this thing had a cash prize!”

The man in the suit gave Ranma a hard stare, clearly very offended. “Indeed,” he said shortly. “For third place, here you are.” 

Ranma ripped open the envelope. “Ten thousand yen?!” she exclaimed in outrage. “I bet that doesn’t even cover lunch in this joint!” 

“This one sure complains a lot,” said the man through the side of his mouth to an attendant, “for someone who came in third by default.”

Beyond the large multistory windows, a girl bound with ropes and tape over her mouth was hopping from the links toward the club house. She had been invited to participate in the tournament but had been ambushed before she made it to the orange tee box. Ranma stuffed the money inside his shirt and dashed down the hall for the bathroom to turn back into a man before she made it inside and recognized him. 

Akane padded down the hallway. “Ranma! Hey, Ranma, wait!”

“In a minute, Akane,” Ranma said, then did a double-take. “Akane?!”

“Hi there!” she said with a relieved smile, clutching her prize envelope. Ranma leaned closer, peering at her with wide, hopeful eyes.

“You… you remember me?” she said in a low, hushed voice.

Akane laughed. “Yes, Ranma, I remember you!” 

“Ha! Yes!” Ranma pumped her fist and beamed. “Alright! Screw this, let’s get outta here. Wait right here, Akane. I’m gonna go change,” Ranma said before she leapt into the bathroom.

“Okay, but that’s the–”

Ranma was already inside. Akane could hear water running and a few muffled whoops. Then a man with a long braid and changshan shirt burst from the bathroom, gleefully shrugging on a large hiking backpack.

“C’mon, Akane, let’s go home!” he said with a grin, practically skipping toward the front entrance of the club house. 

“Do I know you?”

He twitched to a stop mid-skip and turned around, annoyance pouting under his narrowed eyes. “That’s not funny,” he said.

Akane took a step closer and tilted her head, examining his face. “Wow,” she said. “You look so much like that girl, Ranma Saotome. You must be her brother, right?”

“Wh-What…?” The young man’s features took on a pained squint. “Akane, you jerk, don’t mess with me right now. Tell me, do you really not remember?”

“Remember what?” Akane asked. She frowned sympathetically. “I’m sorry, have we met before?”

“Oh, no! What’s that?!” the young man suddenly exclaimed, pointing behind Akane. 

“I don’t see any– oh! Ranma!” Akane said. 

When she turned back around, the girl suddenly stood beside her, her hair wet and her oversized tunic dripping on the shoulders. She was placing a vase of peonies back on a side table. 

Akane half-laughed and said, “Did you know that was the men’s bathroom? The ladies’ is in the new wing, way down the hall.”

“Whoops,” Ranma said unenthusiastically. She scuffed her shoe, a heavy hiking boot that seemed several sizes too large, against the floor, and her shoulders heaved with a sigh.

“So, um, I wanted to thank you again,” Akane said, “and to give you this.” 

She held out her prize envelope with both hands. Ranma stood perfectly still except for her eyes, which lifted after a moment from the envelope to Akane’s face. 

“You should have it. It’s not what I was looking for, and I didn’t really earn it, anyway,” Akane said humbly.

“...I’ll accept it,” Ranma said. She looked down at the envelope in her hands and exchanged it with the one in her shirt. She smiled from the corner of her mouth and wagged the money enticingly. “Wanna get some food? My treat, on account o’ your win and all.”

“Alright,” Akane said with a smile. “I’d like that.”

“Lemme make a quick phone call first.”

Once out of sight, Ranma dumped a cup of tea over his head. It was dangerous to linger there female with Shampoo in the area, not to mention the chaos that would break out when the real orange golfer was discovered.

“Ono Holistic Medical Clinic.”

“Hey, doctor, this is Ranma. Something weird’s goin’ on with Akane.”

“Oh? Has there been a development in her amnesia?”

“Yeah.” Ranma took a shifty glance at his surroundings. “She still doesn’t remember a thing about me from before the shiatsu. But when I’m a girl, and only when I’m a girl, it seems like she can remember stuff that’s happened after. Only about girl-me,” he emphasized.

“Hmm. Am I right to assume that Shampoo doesn’t know that your male and female forms are the same person?”

“That’s right. Are you tryin’ to say she only made Akane forget my guy side? ‘Cause she definitely forgot my girl side, too– at least everything before today.”

“I believe Shampoo intended to erase ‘male Ranma,’ and Akane forgot ‘female Ranma’ only because she knew that the two were one and the same. If this hypothesis is correct, Akane should continue to form and recall new memories of ‘female Ranma,’ but only as long as she thinks that version of you is a different person.”

“Oh, man.” Ranma pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “It could be weeks until we get to China. No way I’m gonna pretend to be a girl the whole time!”

“Er… I can administer the shampoo here once you get it. No need to bring Akane all the way to China!”

Ranma frowned as he idly twirled the end of his braid around his finger. “Yeah, but… wasn’t there something about jogging her memory somehow?”

“Oh, dear. Possibly it could happen, most likely if she’s surrounded by familiar triggers– that is to say, er, at home.”

Ranma held the receiver to his chest as he cursed Mr. Tendo under his breath.

“Well, if that’s the situation… you don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. But I think you should consider Akane’s comfort, too. She may feel safer– and, knowing Akane,” the doctor added with a chuckle, “YOU may BE safer– if you let her remember you as a woman.”

Across the lobby, Akane was curled in a leather armchair with a faint smile on her face, waiting to go to dinner with her new friend. She glanced at the archway into the vestibule where Ranma had gone to make that phone call. A young man was staring right at her, his head hanging a bit sideways in the doorway as he bent his body from around the corner. She raised her eyebrows defiantly at the creep, and he flinched back out of sight.

“Please let me know if there are any more changes in her condition.”

As the phone clicked in his ear, Ranma bitterly eyed the indoor fountain trickling tranquilly in the center of the vestibule. He indulged himself in a long groan, and then he dunked his head.

Chapter Text

A humble izakaya with happy hour shoyu ramen specials was the nearest, cheapest place in the direction of China. Her clothes were drying, and with every grateful bite, Akane felt less chilled and drained. 

Ranma narrowed her eyes. “Over your pet pig, huh?” she said. She poked irritably at the boiled egg in her ramen, spilling the soft yolk into the broth.

“It’s definitely not as impressive as your story about the Amazon village,” Akane said. “You must have had a lot of crazy experiences while you were training in China.”

“Heh… not really,” Ranma said weakly, shrinking a little in her chair.

“I suppose I can understand the honor thing in your case. But I never imagined she would stalk me out of town over something so petty as spoiling her lunch,” Akane sighed. She took a sip of broth, then furrowed her eyebrows over her spoon and lowered it slowly. “But, you know, maybe it wasn’t only that,” she said thoughtfully. “She seemed to think you and I knew each other.” 

Ranma began to sweat and quickly slurped another mouthful of noodles to avoid the implied question. Akane put down her spoon on a raft of noodles and leaned over her bowl to examine Ranma more closely. 

“Something about you really is familiar, though,” Akane said. “And I still don’t get why you helped me the way you did. Have we actually met before?” 

“Nope, never met,” Ranma said hastily. “Just, y'know, ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’ and whatnot.” 

“I suppose...” Akane frowned, but Ranma didn’t give her too much time to think about it.

“Speaking of, Akane, you don't wanna get involved with Shampoo,” she said seriously. “Heck, you're in way too deep as it is.” 

“Hmph.” The steam rising from Akane’s ramen bowl blew forward with her short exhale. “I’m not scared of her.”

Ranma scowled. “Have you forgotten she tried to kill you?” 

Akane pursed her lips. Ranma huffed and slid the envelope of prize money, less the cost of their meal, across the table. “Listen,” she said. “I want you to take this and get on the first train back to Tokyo.”

“Eh?!” Akane smiled nervously and pushed it back. “I can't do that!”

Ranma caught her hand from across the table and pressed the envelope into it. “Don't be stupid,” she said firmly.

Akane shook her head. “No, really! I can’t just go home ,” she insisted. “I have to get a special herbal shampoo to fix my memory because I forgot… well, something. Apparently it’s important. Hold on, I think my sister wrote it down for me.” 

She reached for the backpack by her feet and had just pulled the journal from its outer pocket when Ranma’s chair loudly scraped and clattered against the floor. Her elbows rattled the ramen bowls as she slammed onto the table to grab Akane’s arm before she could lean back up.

“That’s okay!” Ranma gasped. “I’ll get the shampoo for you!”

“Huh?! But you don’t understand,” Akane said, surprised. “It’s only sold in China.”

“I’m going there anyway!”

Akane scrutinized the sweaty girl with the nervous smile latched onto her arm, legs dangling off the table. “...Are you really?” she asked doubtfully.

“Yes! Yes, look, I’m packed and everything!” Ranma said with the enthusiasm of someone with a knife against her throat, jerking her chin toward her own backpack.

“Well, if that’s the case…” Akane pondered for a moment before she smiled and finished cheerfully, “Then we can go together!”

Ranma slumped defeatedly, letting her head bang in frustration next to Akane’s water glass. Akane took the opportunity to pass the notebook to her free hand and flip it open. Ranma jolted up when Akane gasped.

“It’s funny, Ranma,” she said suspiciously, frowning. “The photo in here– this boy looks so much like you. And his name is Ranma Saotome, too. I’m guessing you know exactly what else it says, about who he is and his relationship to me.” She huffed. “ Now I see why you’ve been acting so nice, and why Shampoo thought I was sheltering you.”

Ranma kicked her chair upright and plopped down in it, crossing her arms and legs. “Yeah, I give,” she said. She shook her head and grimaced. “Tch, I knew this was a dumb idea, anyhow. Even a blockhead like you figured it out right away.”

“Who are you calling a blockhead?!” Akane bonked her ramen bowl over Ranma’s head. She frowned down at her and demanded, “And why didn’t you just tell me you’re related to this so-called fiancé of mine?”

“Uh?” Ranma peered up at Akane from under the bowl, mouth fallen open and contorting itself, unsure which shape to take.

“You must be cousins,” Akane said matter-of-factly, sitting down with her ramen again. “I mean, you look like twins, but no one in their right mind would give twins the same name. Was Ranma your mutual grandfather’s name or something?” She slurped up a mouthful of noodles.

Ranma recovered herself enough to close her mouth and conjure a sarcastic reply. “Woah. Step aside, Sherlock Holmes.”

“Hmph!” Taking that as confirmation, Akane smirked and copied her deduction into the notebook. “But what happened to him?” she asked. “Don’t tell me shirked me off on his cousin.”

“‘Course not!” Ranma said with an anxious smile. “He’s… in the bathroom.” She followed Akane’s skeptical gaze to the two place settings on the two-person cafe table. “L-Look,” she said, a little more truthfully, “he’ll be around, but to you he’s a stranger and he doesn’t wanna freak you out by getting too close.”

“I… see.” 

Akane paused in her writing, took another look at the photo, and glanced surreptitiously around the room for the man pictured in it, wondering how many times she had passed this mysterious stranger.

“Like, you can’t even hold a conversation ‘cause you’ll start wondering why some random creep is bothering you,” Ranma said. Akane’s sneaky darting eyes put him further on edge, and he finished nervously, “So, uh, so that’s why he asked me to… to look out for ya.”

Akane smiled sheepishly. “I wonder if I hurt his feelings.”

Ranma’s eyes widened before she waved her hand and smirked. “Ha,” she said. “Takes more’n that to hurt him . He just thought you’d be more comfortable talking with me is all.”

Akane clicked her pen shut and tapped it thoughtfully against her chin. “It’s true that I… feel comfortable with you somehow,” she said. Ranma’s heart skipped a beat, and skipped another when Akane grinned. “Like I knew you in a past life or something!”

Ranma played with the chopsticks in her hands for a moment. “Akane, lemme walk you to the train station,” she said finally. She looked earnestly into Akane’s eyes and added, “I’ll… we’ll… definitely get that shampoo for you.”

“Right: we’ll get that shampoo, because I’m coming with you!” Akane declared. She pushed the money across the table again and clenched her fist. “I’ve made up my mind, so don’t try to talk me out of it,” she said with a smile. “Besides, it’ll be fun!”

“ Fun… ?” Ranma repeated skeptically.

“Yeah!” Akane beamed. “I’d been completely dreading it, but now that we’ll be together I’m actually excited. Won’t you tell me another story about China? Please? ”

Ranma scratched at her blushing cheek. “W-Well…” 

Crumbs of plaster polluted their ramen broth as the wall groaned and curved inward. Ranma and Akane leapt out of the way as it burst open, sending their table flying and rubble spewing across the restaurant. The table smacked Akane in the back and knocked her down, but it shielded her from the heavy chunks of concrete. A startled patron flung up his hands, inadvertently flipping his soup onto Ranma’s head. Shampoo lowered her foot and stepped into the restaurant amid the commotion, drawing bewildered stares from the diners who didn’t immediately flee.

“Where– oh!” Shampoo’s icy glare flipped into a delighted smile when she spotted Ranma. She lifted the upturned bowl from his head. “ Ai ren , you’re here, too!”

“Sh-Shampoo!” Ranma stuttered as noodles dropped from his hair to the floor. 

He caught her arms as she came in for a hug, his eyes sweeping the restaurant for Akane. He spotted her on her hands and knees behind the overturned table. Her worried face turned this way and that, searching. Ranma gulped and pivoted Shampoo’s back to her, and ducked to hide before Akane could lock eyes with him.

“My, so forward,” Shampoo commented in amusement at Ranma crouching to eye-level with her chest. 

“H-Have dinner with me, Shampoo!” Ranma insisted.

“Oh, yes!” Shampoo said happily. She swatted her arm across the nearest table to clear it; the abandoned dishes on it shattered on the floor. Shampoo sat without a care for the surrounding rubble and broken ceramics, but Akane’s head turned alertly toward the noise.

“Shampoo!” she growled.

“Erk!” Ranma strangled his yelp and hid his face behind a bussing tray. To Shampoo, he said with forced merriment, “Let’s sit over here! ”

In one arm he picked up Shampoo’s chair, with Shampoo still on it, and grabbed the table with the other. He ran from the restaurant dining room, through the kitchen, and kicked open the back door. The line cook loitering outside choked on his cigarette.

“Ooh, privacy! So romantic!” Shampoo clasped her hands together with pleasure as Ranma set her and the table down by the dumpster. 

“Be right back– gotta take a leak!” Ranma said quickly. Shampoo waved while he sprinted back inside.

Ranma upended a mop bucket in the kitchen over his head and skidded into the restaurant again.

“Ranma!” Akane called, relieved, to the girl running back to her. 

She handed Ranma her pack. Ranma took it wordlessly in one hand and grabbed Akane’s wrist with the other, tugging her through the front door. The autumn night whipped around their faces as they cut across the cracked road and through the unpaved one-pump gas station, then uphill past a few squat houses with satellite dishes.

“Ran–” Akane’s breath hitched as the girl pulling her along looked back with a cheeky grin.

“Up for a marathon, Akane?” she yelled over the wind washing over their ears. Akane grinned back.

“Yes!”

—

The last thing Akane saw was a tiny glimpse of the moon through clouds. Her knees buckled when Ranma whispered, “We’ll sleep here,” and she dropped to her seat in ankle-deep leaves. She leaned back against the boulder insulated with patches of moss, and that’s when Ranma killed the flashlight, leaving Akane nothing but a hazy shallow smile in a starless sky. She’d been torturing that light, anyway– suffocating it through her glowing red fingers. Akane was too tired to do anything but tremble, much too tired to argue any more against Ranma’s paranoia. 

Ranma searched by touch through her backpack, pulling out things crinkly and swishy that rustled as she laid them in the leaves. Akane knew she should be finding her own gently noisy things, but she sank deeper against her own pack, too attached to it as a cushion against the rock. Maybe she could just sleep there. Maybe she could just die there. She was too exhausted to know the difference.  

Akane’s head lolled when Ranma jostled her water bottle from her pack’s side pocket. An electrolyte pack had dissolved in sloshes, and the cold bottle pressed against Akane’s arm insistently. When Akane reached for it, she met unexpected warmth instead, until Ranma’s hand slipped out from under hers and left her holding the bottle. 

A rash of shame ran through Akane then. Ranma must have been so tired, too. Akane leaned up to drink, and Ranma’s warm hand brushed the back of her neck as she lifted Akane’s sleeping bag from its straps. 

“Sorry,” each whispered to the other, and there was stillness as they each wondered why.

Akane woke up zipped in her sleeping bag to a sliver of light grazing the dry leaves around her. The grey tarp covering her slid off with a crackle as she sat up and blinked puffily in the morning light. Nearby, Ranma paused, stretched to the side over one leg in a round patch of grass cleared of fallen leaves. A skillet of oatmeal simmered over the fire in front of her. 

“Good morning,” Akane said awkwardly. “Um… you… last night… you didn’t have to make breakfast, too.”

Ranma grinned and reached for her heel in pulses. “Who said I was giving you any? This is all for me.”

Akane blinked, then let out her breath in a puff of air. The cloud of it dissipated to reveal a smirk working its way around her mouth as she crawled from her sleeping bag to the other side of the campfire. “Oh, really?” she said liltingly. 

“Yep.” Ranma’s eyes glinted up at her. “I need the extra energy if I’m gonna be carrying your weight all the way to China.”

Color pricked Akane’s cheeks. “Don’t even dream of it!” she sniffed. “I’ll take care of myself, thank you.”

Ranma hummed and gave Akane that impish look again, sideways where she bent over her calf. “Then, you don’t want any oatmeal? ‘Cause I might spare some, if you beg me.”

Akane crossed her arms. “Seeing as you helped yourself to my cookware, I believe I’m entitled to some.”

“ Entitled is right!” Ranma scoffed as she sat up.

“If you don’t want to share, that’s quite alright with me,” Akane said innocently. “I’ll just take my pan back now, so I can make my own breakfast.” 

Ranma narrowed her eyes. “Alright, sheesh, you twisted my arm.” She pouted and crumbled a stray leaf between her fingers while Akane meted out a portion for each of them.

As Akane dipped her spoon into the mushy grains, she smiled warmly at her surly companion who was hunched over her own bowl. “Thanks, Ranma,” she said sincerely.

Ranma smiled, too, like she was trying not to, and shoved her spoon in her mouth.

—

Powerlines began to criss-cross overhead again as Ranma and Akane’s route brought them back into town. Ranma suddenly broke into a sweat at a sight not far down the road.

“This way, Akane!” Ranma said with a sunny smile, sharply steering her left.

“Huh? But–” 

Akane looked back in confusion down the main street that should have taken them through the centers of the next three towns. A red sign jutting out from a building of taupe brick and white siding caught her eye, and she gasped.

“Ranma, a sento!” she said delightedly. “Let's go!” She ran toward the public bath without a second thought, eager to wash off her sweat and soak her sore muscles. Ranma cursed and ran after her.

“N-No! Akane! We– we don’t have time for a bath right now! Shampoo–”

“I don’t see her anywhere. Do you?” Akane said as they reached the entrance, a narrow glass door underneath a humble white banner and flanked with bicycles.

“But– we have to keep moving!” Ranma argued. Akane frowned at her.

“Don’t be silly. You can’t expect me not to bathe for the whole trip just because she might be after us,” Akane said. “I already smell terrible, and you're not so fresh yourself, by the way.”

“A-Akane… eurgh!” Ranma groaned, rubbing her temples. “She is after us, okay?”

“So what?” Akane demanded. “Why are you so scared of her? The two of us together can take her– easy.”

“Stupid, didn’t I tell you she’s relentless? She tracked me all the way from China and no doubt she’ll track me all the way back!” Ranma said emphatically. “You don’t get it ‘cause when you fought her, all that happened was you forgot–” her face scrunched and she looked away, sighing hard and short– “something that… you don’t even miss.”

Akane wondered briefly what that something was as her eyes roamed over Ranma’s face. The wrinkle remained in her brow, but the fervor in her gaze relit as she looked back sternly at Akane. 

“But she took it easy on you,” Ranma continued. “If she got another chance, you might lose a lot more than your memory. Do you understand?”

“Ranma… I’m not the type to just run away forever,” Akane said gently but firmly. “I didn’t think you were, either.”

“Darn right, I’m not!” Ranma scoffed. “I’m a fighter, you know that. But I could beat her a hundred times over, and it wouldn’t matter– she won’t rest until she gets what she wants, and I have no intention of giving it to her.” 

She let out a slow breath and looked deeply into Akane’s eyes. “I’ll figure out some other way to deal with her eventually, but runnin’s the best I got right now. ‘Cause, yeah, I’m not a runner, but… I’m no killer, either.”

“And you really think Shampoo is? ” Akane asked doubtfully.

Ranma clenched her jaw. “You could be right, Akane, but I’m not willing to bet your life on it.”

“Ranma…” Akane bit her lip.

They both fell silent. Akane glanced longingly at the sento sign, then turned her head over her shoulder at the main road heading west. A sigh brought her attention to the front again. Ranma fished in her pocket and held out three coins. 

“Go take your bath, Akane. I’ll wait in the lobby in case Shampoo shows up.”

Akane brightened and eagerly cupped her hand for the yen. “Sure you're not coming with me, not even for a teensy little soak?”

“Can’t, or we could both get caught with our pants down,” Ranma said. 

Akane sighed. “Fine, then I’ll take the second shift. If you go much longer without a bath, she’ll be able to track us down by smell.”

Ranma stuck her tongue out. “Fine… but, uh, make sure you scream really loud if you do see her.”

Ranma sighed in relief while Akane disappeared behind the women’s curtain. She was right that they would have to bathe sometime, and somehow he'd wormed his way into an excuse to do it separately. He’d do the same with Shampoo– stall until he found a way out– and everything would be just fine. 

Ranma leaned his petite body against the tile wall next to the vending machine. Bored, he glanced around the room and mapped out how he’d sneak into the men’s while her back was turned. He looked forward to being a man again, even if for a teensy little soak . He smiled to himself. When this was all over he would tease her mercilessly for trying to wheedle him into the bath with her. Not every guy in Ranma’s position would resist like did– even if they were being asked by a girl without a shred of sex appeal. Yeah, Akane was so…

not cute,

Akane’s eyes sparkled in the last rays of the evening that spilled through the foggy windows of the izakaya. “It’ll be fun! …Now that we’ll be together, I’m actually excited.” A lively flush shone from her beaming cheeks as she begged him for another story about China. The warmth flooding through Ranma swirled with inner conflict– he should probably say no to her, and it’s not that he couldn’t; it was that he didn’t want to.

not sweet,

In the chilly morning, Akane’s smile warmed him more than the bowl of oatmeal between his hands, more than the campfire between them. “Thank you,” she said. A small angry pit behind Ranma’s ribs loosened, bloomed in gratification. That was all she had to say, and maybe it wasn’t so hard, after all. And man, if she smiled like that even once out of one hundred times he did something for her, he might serve her for the rest of his life.

not affectionate,

Glimmering water droplets spun off her short hair with every twirl of her victory dance. Annoyed, Ranma wiped off a line of them that flicked his face. That hair hung in noodles around her glowing face when Akane came to a stop and faced him. She hugged him with a wet slap, cold and warm at the same time, and nearly lifted him off his feet in her joy. “I couldn’t have done it without you, but I won!”

not sexy,

“Yes!” she said breathlessly. Akane’s pulse quickened under his hand. Ranma gambled every instant his gaze hung back on her exhilarated grin until he finally let go and ran, trusting that she would still be there. Their first rest, collapsed on a park bench, was full of Akane’s gasping laughter and water dribbling down his throat under the streetlight. Ranma grinned freely at her, never more comfortable with another person than in that moment, as unguardedly bare as children sharing a bathtub. Then Akane stretched; her polo lifted from her waist, her short skirt rode up to the spandex, and Ranma gulped down the reminder that they weren’t naked, nor were they children. 

On their last rest, he snuffed the light to hide their campsite, if one could call it that: a patch of unraked grass to hide two sleeping bags under a tarp. He couldn’t see her anymore, but he could hear her soft pants, feel her radiating heat in the dark, and smell her exertion. He tried to shake off the twisted part of his gut that found it all so pleasant, but then she touched his hand. Then he clumsily grazed the nape of her neck. If he reached out again, would he find that strip of skin on her midriff? Would he feel the place where the spandex pinched the inside of her thigh? 

not-a-chance-in-hell-it-would-ever-work–

“Your turn!” Akane whispered in his ear.

“Ga-a-ah!” Ranma jumped and scrambled onto all fours on top of the vending machine. Akane snorted and laughed.

“Some lookout you are!” she said. “I caught you totally off-guard.”

“Th-That was fast,” Ranma said shakily. 

“What’d you expect? It’s not like I could relax after that speech you gave me,” Akane said with a shudder. “You know, you’ve got exactly seven minutes in there before I drag you out.”

Ranma narrowed her eyes and climbed down from the ticket vending machine without a word. Akane noted her nervous glance at the wall clock with amusement. Didn’t that girl know a joke when she heard one? 

—

The hiking trail snaked gently through the valley between two sharp mountains as their path diverged just a little more from the nation’s southern border. A fragile yellow leaf fell from the bleached branch of a birch tree drilled by a woodpecker. Ranma trotted along a tree trunk that had been dragged to the side of the trail, skipped from there to a boulder, and jumped back beside Akane.

“So,” Akane asked, “when are the two of us going to spar?”

“Ah, I should’ve known you’d start this up sooner rather than later.”

“Well, why wouldn’t I? After all, I just so happened to notice that you’re a martial artist, too,” Akane said coyly. “A pretty good one, even.”

Ranma grinned with her tongue out. “Uh-huh. So why would I waste my time sparring with a slow chick like you?”

“Who are you calling slow?!”

Akane snapped up a branch from the ground and swung it at Ranma’s middle. She tucked into a jump and pushed the branch down with her hands to avoid the blow.

“Yow!”

Akane brandished the branch in both hands like a sword. With an aggressive smile she said, “Before you say something like that, why don’t you try me first?”

Ranma raised her eyebrows and chuckled. “Ohoho. Alright, Akane, I’ll give you the fight you want… if you can catch me.”

She took off sprinting down the trail.

“Hey! Get back here!” Akane yelled indignantly.

She ran after Ranma with makeshift bokken in hand. With a swing, the branch cracked into pieces against an oak tree as Ranma shot from one trunk to another on the opposite side of the trail. Akane’s head whipped to follow as Ranma bounced like a pinball between trees.

She pulled a face at Akane from where she hung from a branch. “Slowpoke!” she taunted.

With the finesse of a star pitcher, Akane launched an armful of pinecones at Ranma’s head. She swung her legs and flipped between branches like a gymnast on the uneven bars– lifting onto one arm here, opening her legs into a side split there to dodge the missiles.

“You missed!” she called. 

“For the last time!” Akane shouted.

Akane’s competitive spirit brewed in her stomach while she chased Ranma’s airy laughter a long way down the unpaved path. Ranma made sure to crouch or hang upside down from her knees on a branch and tease Akane if she ever fell behind the front-row seats to her show of agility. It was frustratingly superhuman, and Ranma flaunted it gladly.

“Come and get me!” she sang.

Akane pumped out her breath forcefully and leapt at a birch tree the way she’d seen Ranma do. She landed her foot on the crook between its trunk and lowest limb and sprung from there to the next one. The woodpecker flapped away with a squawk when her hands slapped against the bark, and she firmly grasped the branch while she threw her momentum into a swing. The rotten branch snapped. Ranma’s head turned at the sound of Akane landing with an oof . She dropped out of her own tree and ran the twenty meters back to her.

“You’re okay, ain’tcha?” she asked as Akane started to pick herself off the ground. 

“Yup!” Akane grunted as she stood on her hand, cartwheeling into a kick at Ranma.

Ranma stepped back to narrowly dodge it. “Woah!” she said appreciatively. 

She held up her fists with a challenge of a smile as Akane started toward her again, but after two steps she stumbled. “Ouch-ch-ch-ch,” Akane tutted softly.

Ranma’s smile fell with disappointment. “Aw, geez. So you did hurt yourself.”

“I’m okay,” Akane said. “I just rolled my ankle a little. I can walk it off.”

She dropped her backpack and sat on a rock to root through it for a compression wrap. Ranma nudged the bark off the fallen branch with her foot, examining the woodpecker’s holes with the passing interest of someone with nothing better to do. She looked back to see Akane trying to fit her a clumsy mass of bandages back into her sneaker.

“Oh for the love of… let me do it,” she said. 

Akane blushed a little as Ranma crouched on the ground, ripped the velcro, and undid the web wound around her ankle. Ranma grabbed her heel and quickly began to loop the elastic bandage over it again. Akane winced.

“Agh– can’t you be a little more… gen…tle?”

Ranma, squatting by her feet, looked up to Akane on the rock, and for just an instant her facade of annoyance slipped at that first distressed sound. Akane saw them, her concerned eyes, and her vision swam. Wasn’t this all oddly familiar? Those caring eyes, the bandages, a sharp pain, this feeling… that fire, that person, that… boy? Akane gripped her hair and fought against the urge to squeeze her eyes shut until she couldn’t see this scene anymore; she wanted to know.

“Akane…?”

She couldn’t help it– she blinked. Akane looked down at her palm for answers, though she already knew the red mark was gone. 

Wasn’t I by myself that night? But now that I think about it… I don’t remember dressing the wound at all.

Beads of sweat remained on Akane’s brow as she asked, “Ranma, this might sound strange, but… when I burnt my hand, were you there?”

Ranma’s mouth fell open. “I–”  

She closed her mouth and wet her dry lips with her tongue while her eyes broke from Akane’s stare to Akane’s pack. She hastily unzipped it and pulled out the notebook. With a flip of the page, Ranma jabbed her dainty finger at the photo. 

“Do you remember?” she asked intently. “This is who was with you!”

“Right… it was a boy…” Akane said slowly. She took the book and stared at the photo while Ranma’s heart bounded uncertainly in his chest like a newborn deer. She frowned, disoriented, at Ranma. “But I’m not sure if this was him… this boy looks like he is about to sneeze.”

“That’s because it’s a bad photo!” Ranma snapped. “I’m telling you it was him!” 

Akane read silently for a long moment. After a few seconds, Ranma blinked a few times and swallowed slowly, realizing that she would recall nothing more. He picked up the bandage that had drooped slackly around her foot and carefully finished the wrapping. As he pressed the velcro a few centimeters above her ankle, she thoughtfully penned a line at the bottom of the page and looked up.

“I think,” Akane said meekly, “that maybe I forgot something important.”

Ranma seemed dazed for a moment, still holding onto her finished ankle. Akane started to wonder if she’d said something strange when Ranma picked up her dusty white sneaker from the ground. She slotted the tooth of a silver carabiner through the loop on its heel and clipped it to her backpack.

“Hey, give me my shoe back!” Akane protested as Ranma shouldered her pack and the sneaker swung out of view. Akane threw her notebook back into her own bag and zipped it. “You’re not going to make me fight you for it on one foot, are you?”

“No, stupid,” Ranma said, rolling her eyes. “You are such a tomboy. Just put your backpack on.”

“ I’m a tomboy ? Remind me, which one of us talks like a boy and wears men’s clothes?” Akane complained, but she pulled on her backpack. “There. Now quit messing around.”

As soon as she did, Ranma slotted her arm behind Akane’s back, through the straps of her bag. She picked Akane up around her waist and knees and took off jogging.

“Wh-What?!” Akane gasped. 

She stared in bewilderment at Ranma, only to see a smug smile on her face. Her only response was a cheeky glance that made Akane blush. She clenched her hands as they began to sweat, unsure where they should go.

“I can walk, you know!” she blurted.

“It’ll heal faster if you don’t,” Ranma said casually. 

Ranma’s confidence made her all the more nervous. She jogged along like it was nothing, her gait so smooth it felt like they were gliding, like she swept women off their feet every day. Maybe she did. Maybe it was normal and Akane should calm down– never mind that she’d never been held like this by anyone, let alone by another girl, let alone by someone like Ranma. 

What’s the big deal? It’s just like piggyback, only we have backpacks, so it has to be like this. Right, that’s it. It doesn’t mean anything. Just a normal, friendly courtesy. Piggyback.

Akane tried to subtly wipe her hands on the intentionally mismatched patches of her cargo pants. She crossed her arms tightly over her stomach, holding her opposite elbows. That didn't seem right, either. She cautiously reached one arm over Ranma’s shoulder while she glanced shyly at her face for cues. That self-assured smile widened a touch, so that when Ranma slid her that little look again, it was just a tiny bit slyer. Akane left her hand tensely on the strap of Ranma’s backpack rather than somewhere she might feel firm muscle moving under silk. She pocketed her other hand in her bomber jacket, then took it out again. She settled on hooking only her thumb in the pocket. Akane forced her most normal, friendly smile onto her face.

“This morning,” she began and cleared her throat when her voice cracked, “when you talked about carrying my weight all the way to China… I didn't think you meant that literally!” 

“Heh. All the way there, huh? What happened to walking it off?” Ranma said. “You tryin’ to take advantage of me?” 

“I was–”

Ranma pitched her voice into a mocking falsetto. “Ooh, Ranma, I can’t move! Pwease carry li’l ol’ me!”

“Shut up! It’s not like I asked you to!” Akane said heatedly.

Ranma grinned with amusement at how flustered she was. “Gee, Akane, don’tcha know a joke when you hear one? ‘Cause I do.”

Akane relaxed slightly and looked down into her lap again. “I’m really fine. You can put me down as soon as you get tired.”

“I don't tire easily,” Ranma replied. Heat rose in Akane’s cheeks.

“St-Still,” Akane said, “maybe I should have let you eat all the oatmeal.”

“Aw, so what if you could stand to lose a bit of weight?” Ranma said breezily. “Doesn't bother–”

Akane’s elbow came down over Ranma’s head, halting her midstride. “That's not what I meant! ” Akane seethed. “Now give me back my shoe! I won’t burden you anymore with how heavy I am!”

She swung her legs free but fell back against the arm looped through her backpack. Ranma recovered from the stun and caught Akane before she slipped out of the pack. 

“Hold on!” she said. “You don't have to get all sensitive about it.”

Akane struggled against Ranma’s firm grip on her waist. “Sensitive?! I just don't want to be carried by a jerk who insults me!”

“Aren’t you overreacting?” Ranma huffed. “It’s not like I was trying to hurt your feelings.”

“Oh, please!” Akane stopped trying to get away just to glare at Ranma. “Talking about my weight is obviously going to hurt my feelings! If you don't know that, then what kind of girl are you?”

Ranma dropped her gaze and frowned. “...Not a very good one, I guess.” That gave Akane pause, and then Ranma looked up again and said sincerely, “Really, I’m sorry.” 

He took her hesitation as an opportunity to pick her up again. Akane sat quietly, her chin pointing at the ground in front of them, listening to her own accelerated heartbeat as Ranma started running again. Both her elbows were tucked in her lap again while she twiddled with the jacket zipper over her chest. Ranma pressed his lips together.

“Don’t worry about it, Akane,” he said. “If I did have to carry you all the way to China, that wouldn't bother me at all.”

To his relief, she turned with a wry smile. “That’s way too nice,” she said. “You're overdoing it.”

Ranma grinned. “Pssh! I’m not just saying that to be nice. This isn’t even a warm-up for me, you know. I could easily carry you with only one arm– you just wouldn’t like it.”

“Alright, now you're just bragging,” Akane said with an eye roll. 

“Heh.” The question crept like a panther, low and mysterious, through Ranma’s smirk as she asked, “Don’t believe me?”

Akane studied her face warily and plotted her escape if Ranma tried to carry her under one arm, believing she absolutely could and knowing she would absolutely hate it.

“Lemme show you something,” Ranma said. Her gaze flitted from Akane’s eyes to the arms she had folded over herself. “But you have to hang on.”

Hang on?

A thrill rocketed up through Akane and left behind a plume of excitement that both tickled and frightened her. “...Why?” she asked, since part of her knew she should be suspicious, or at least act suspicious, or at least hesitate before she eagerly locked her arms around Ranma’s neck.

Ranma pumped her eyebrows teasingly. “You scared?”

“No!” Akane sniffed, although her nervous heart seemed to think she was.

“You trust me?” 

Ranma’s eyes softened with the question, her smirk melting into a small genuine smile. They’d barely known each other two days, and here Ranma was looking so confident that the answer would be–

“Yes,” Akane answered quietly.

“Then hang on.”

Ranma sprung high into the air, higher than Akane thought humanly possible. This speed, this airspace, this exuberance she all thought reserved for backyard fireworks. Akane pressed herself against Ranma and chased away birds with her scream as they brushed through the red crown of a maple tree to land on one of its highest limbs. The branch shook once with a rustle of leaves as Ranma’s feet touched solidly down. Akane clung to her, unmoving except for her heart hammering in her chest. She had thought Ranma was showing off earlier, but she’d been holding back… way back! After a few heaving breaths, she peeled herself off of the other girl enough to see her face. Akane expected a superior I-told-you-so smirk, but Ranma looked surprisingly demure. Her cheeks were pink, and she met Akane’s eyes with almost shy interest. Akane stared back, speechless still in shock, and Ranma cautiously broke into a faint smile.

“You wanted to climb trees with me, right?” she said. 

“H-How did you… learn how to– to do this…?” was all Akane could stutter out of her dry mouth.

Akane’s arm bobbed on Ranma’s shoulders as she shrugged casually. “I just kept jumping on higher stuff,” she said. “Duh.”

A breeze blew over the branch, and the red leaves waved as Akane blinked blankly at her. “That’s it?”

“Okay, you got me,” Ranma said, rolling her eyes with a good-natured smile. “There’s a trick to it.”

“And what’s that?”

“Don’t pick the rotten branches!” Ranma laughed brashly and stomped on the tree limb under her feet.

The branch snapped. The next one down caught Ranma right between the legs. He blanched and let out a small squeak of pain. He was grateful it happened to this body, but it still didn’t feel good!

“You were saying?” Akane said sardonically. 

She scooted out of Ranma’s arms to sit on the tree limb. Ranma lifted herself onto her hands and brought her legs up into a narrow crouch. She stuck one leg straight in front of her, over Akane's lap, and rotated her foot in a circle in demonstration. Akane’s nose followed it as she watched it go around.

“Trick number two: keep up your ankle mobility,” Ranma said. “That way you don't get hurt when you jump down.”

Akane peered through the gaps in the leaves to the ground. “Don’t tell me… you go straight down from here?” she asked guardedly.

“Wanna see?” 

When Akane looked back at Ranma, her hand was extended invitingly. Akane took it, and Ranma helped her sit across her bent knees.

“I must be crazy,” Akane said, shaking her head. 

Ranma whirled her arm around her head like a cowgirl with a lasso to place Akane’s hand on her shoulder. Then she slipped her arm behind Akane's back and pulled her in tight. Akane’s scream trailed behind them as they burst from the tree and plummeted through the air. Her shriek abruptly stopped, and she thought she might be dead until she realized her eyes were closed and her face was buried in Ranma’s shaggy hair.

“Are you gonna scream like that every time?” Ranma asked with a wince, his inner ear throbbing in complaint.

“Every time?” Akane’s eyes widened. “You mean… we can do it again?”

“You want to?” Ranma grinned as Akane nodded excitedly.

They abandoned the winding hiking trail, cutting across the steep mountain with long leaps between treetops. Soon Akane’s screams phased into whoops and laughter that flowed endlessly and effortlessly from their lungs, like ribbons that fell in garlands over the trees.

—

They made camp at a high outcropping of flat rain-worn boulders. Underneath the flashlight, a shadow of Akane’s hand seeped through the paper map. She looked past it to the sight below: a grid of city lights sprawled out from the piedmont to a bay on the horizon. 

She walked, her ankle no longer tender, to tuck the map into her backpack. Ranma, sitting on the edge of the rock, rummaged through her pack. Her legs dangled to the step below, where they were warmed by the fire they had built there.

“I’ll make dinner tonight,” Akane said cheerfully, pulling out her cast iron pan. 

“No way,” Ranma said distractedly. “Your cooking’s terrible.”

“But you’ve never even tried my cooking!”

Ranma flinched. “Um…”

“Who– did someone tell you I can’t cook? Where did you hear that?!” Akane demanded.

“...My cousin told me.”

“Your cousin?” Akane asked in confusion. “Is she in my home ec class or something?”

“Go and read your journal, alright?”

Akane crouched on her heels with the journal on her knees in front of her. She held the flashlight to the page and leafed through the pages like an archivist handling a delicate artifact. 

I guess it did seem like a big coincidence that Ranma also just so happened to be on her way to China. But I’m engaged to her cousin? 

“This is… a lot to take in,” she said. “I kind of remember this last part about burning my hand. Isn’t that when I was making paella? Right… enough for two people…”

Ranma stopped unfolding the crinkly tarp to listen quietly. The white light bouncing from the notebook pages to Akane's face showed her cheeks reddening.

“Okay, so maybe that paella didn't come out that great!” she said heatedly. “I worked hard and even burnt my hand making it for him! And he has the nerve to badmouth my cooking? Gee, does your whole family think I’m a horrible cook now?”

“No, no!” Ranma said nervously. “It’s not like he's shouting it from the rooftops or nothing. More like… me and him tell each other everything. Don’t be too mad at ‘im, okay?”

Akane’s face hesitantly released some of its tension. “I guess you two are really close.”

“Yep… always have been. Almost like we're the same person.” Ranma smiled in a lopsided way.

Akane’s pen scratched against the page. “Well, okay. Maybe he's not just a jerk, then.” She hugged her knees and pouted. “But even if I don't remember who he is, I’m sure I don’t want my fiancé to think I’m a terrible cook.”

Ranma twiddled her thumbs. “Aw, well… all he said was that the paella didn't come out so good,” she said. “Could’ve been a one-off.”

“I guess it was a little ambitious,” Akane admitted. She perked up and added, “I’m sure I could do better with something easier.”

Ranma looked up from her thumbs and smiled hopefully. “I’ve got some curry mix in my pack. How ‘bout that?”

“Yes!” Akane enthused. “I’ll give it my best!”

“Don’t go crazy with the condiments and stuff, alright?”

“I think I can handle a mix from a box, Ranma!”

Ranma held up her hands in surrender and went back to spreading the tarp. Akane searched through her pack for her knife and chopsticks but noticed something else missing.

“Oh no, what happened to my tent?” she said to no one in particular.

Ranma shrugged. “No worries, I’ve got one.” 

She tossed a black bag onto the ground that jangled with tent poles and stakes. As she pitched it, the neon green color distracted Akane from chopping carrots. She squinted.

“That looks exactly like the tent I used last time. What…?”

“It’s my cousin's tent,” Ranma said quickly. “I’m borrowing his stuff.”

“Your cousin?”

Ranma sighed and stepped away from the half-erected structure to hand her the notebook.

Ranma’s cousin is my fiancé? Asked her to travel with me… they’re super close… that’s nice, I suppose. So that was his tent.

“Oh. Oh ,” Akane said. She glanced nervously at Ranma. “...Ranma?”

“Mm?”

“Do you really… tell each other everything?”

“Pretty much. Why?”

“Do you know if we slept in that tent together?”

Ranma snorted. “Of course not. You’d have hit him with that frying pan a million times. Maybe even if you did recognize him.”

“So then we’re not… we haven't…”

Ranma shoved the last stake into the ground and hopped back onto the rock to sit with Akane in the light of the campfire where uneven vegetable chunks sizzled in the pan. Akane was blushing and seemed tense while she stared down at the notebook in her lap.

“Were you saying something?” Ranma asked.

“Well, I guess I should just spit it out,” Akane said with a little nervous chuckle, twirling a short strand of hair around her ear. “I wanted to know… how far have we gone?”

“Huh?!” Ranma felt his face burning. “Nowhere! Absolutely nowhere, nothing!”

“I see.” Akane let out a little puff of breath and smiled sadly.

“Uh…” A suspicion spurred Ranma’s still-galloping heart, and he leaned toward her as he asked furtively, “Are you disappointed? ”

“Sort of.”

Ranma sat perfectly still in shock and tried not to look inordinately happy. A grin wriggled across his lips like a snake anyway. “Why?” he asked. “Do you, uh, do you think he's hot?”

Akane's flashlight spotlighted the photo taped in the notebook. She frowned and tilted her head in consideration.

“Man, if you have to think about it–! Never mind; that's a really bad photo,” Ranma grumbled.

“That's not why I'm disappointed, anyhow,” Akane said. “It’s just so hard to accept that I’m engaged to someone when I don’t actually have a relationship with him.” She kicked at a pebble that skittered obediently across the rocky ground. “I mean, how could my father do something like this? Don’t I have any say in who I marry?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Ranma muttered.

“Huh?” Akane’s eyebrows drew together with concern as she checked Ranma’s bitter expression. “Ranma, did your parents force you to marry someone, too?”

Ranma reeled back, sweating out the realization that he’d said too much. “No!” he squeaked. 

Akane looked at him strangely. Ranma’s fake smile dropped. He could trick others or playact when he prepared to, but he hadn’t learned to lie convincingly when faced with a direct question.

“That is, no, not marry… yet. But I’m engaged, like you,” he amended.

“Wow,” Akane said softly. “I guess that’s common in your family?”

“I guess,” Ranma said noncommittally. “Too common for my taste, at any rate.”

“How have you been dealing with it?” Akane asked. Ranma tossed his gaze to the side with a snort.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” he said. “I’m still in training, so marriage ain’t exactly on my mind.”

“But, even so…” Akane fiddled with a button on her blouse where a thread around it was coming loose. “Is your fiancé someone you could eventually, you know, see yourself with?” 

“No way!” he blurted, cutting his hand across his throat.

Akane’s lips parted in surprise. “Really? That bad?” she asked apprehensively.

Ranma blushed and curled his toes in his oversized hiking boots. “Gah, I dunno, Akane. Don’t ask me mushy junk like that!”

“Okay, well, after a reaction like that, I am going to need some details. What's he like?” Akane asked curiously. 

Ranma turned his grimace away from her, resting his head on his forearms where they were folded over his knees. For a moment Akane watched attentively, her interest growing with Ranma’s reticence, while he sat with a sense of dread and flipped an imaginary coin between making something up and dodging the question. Then, as the coin spun in his mind, a sly grin crept across his face. He would pay her back for putting him on the spot like that.

“Oh,” he said with feigned nonchalance, “only a total macho hothead, and that’s putting it lightly. More like a violent maniac with a nasty jealous streak, and stubborn as a mule to boot!”

Akane’s hand flew to her mouth, and her shoulders hunched inward. “Wh-What? That’s horrible!” 

Ranma nodded with a hum of agreement and a small smile of private satisfaction. Akane’s demeanor changed, then, as her eyes suddenly blazed with determination. The hand at her mouth clenched into a fist, and she straightened up. 

“We have to do something!” she said vehemently. “You can’t marry such a… such a… a brute! ”

Ranma waved her down with both hands and chuckled, caught between amusement and alarm. “Woah, woah, slow down. That klutz is no real threat. ‘Sides, I’m tough enough to fight off two… heck, three fiancées at once, if I had ‘em!”

Akane’s expression took on a sickly twist of the mouth. “Are you saying he’s not only mean and cruel… but incompetent, too?”

Ranma ran his hand slowly over his hair and scratched the back of his head. “That’s… kinda harsh,” he said contritely. “Incompetent: nah, just a scatterbrained jock. And I never said anything about mean or cruel, neither.” He tried to placate her with an easy smile but felt foolish and a little guilty looking into her worried eyes.

“You don’t have to go back and sugarcoat it, Ranma,” Akane said. “Who ever heard of a sweet and kind violent maniac?”

“Well, when you put it like that, it does sound– aw, forget it. I was exaggerating, okay? Just joking,” Ranma said, thoroughly abashed. “My fiancée’s… not so bad.”

Akane began to relax. She craned her neck to glimpse the flushed face that Ranma had turned away.

“So there’s something you like about him after all,” she surmised.

“Even if there was, it wouldn’t matter,” Ranma grumbled. “After all, I’m not the one who’s unhappiest about the situation.”

“Ha!” Akane exclaimed, throwing her head back. “I don’t believe that for a second.” 

When Ranma looked at her, surprise had wiped his face blank. A laugh spilled out of Akane, and she bumped her shoulder against Ranma’s. 

“Get real,” she said. “Who wouldn’t be happy to be engaged to you? ”

“...Huh?”

“Come on ,” Akane said like he was playing dumb, rolling her eyes. “You’re so cute! Not to mention fit and great at martial arts. He’d be crazy not to be crazy for you!”

Ranma grinned. “Got that right, I’m the catch of the century! But I never thought you would agree.”

“Me?” Akane chuckled. “What am I, an idiot?”

“You said it, not me.” The indomitable grin across Ranma’s face lightened the teasing remark.

“In that case, I take it all back,” Akane said mildly, swishing her smile to the side of her mouth to hide it. “Die alone.”

Ranma’s laugh shook his belly, intensifying the hollow feeling there, and his stomach growled loudly. Akane giggled and broke the block of curry mix into the simmering skillet. Ranma watched the light flicker across her face while she contentedly swirled her chopsticks in the curry. 

Akane, you really are an idiot. If that’s what you think of me, then why don't you tell me when I’m a guy? And if you wanna get closer, well… if you asked me to…

Ranma wanted to get closer to her. He was already as close as he could safely be, as was normal to be, but he wanted to sit a little nearer, to let their sides touch and stay shoulder-to-shoulder by the fire. Would that cross a line, and if so, who was that line for: Ranma her friend, or Ranma her fiancé?

“Okay!” Akane said. “All done.”

The curry fell from her ladle with an unusual plop. She dipped it slowly back into the skillet with her bright eyes trained on Ranma’s face, more interested in her reaction than serving herself. Ranma gulped and lifted his bowl in toast.

“Th-Thanks.”

Here goes nothing… I hope.

Ranma took a bite, then clapped his hand over his mouth to prevent himself from spitting it out. He dropped the bowl to brace both hands on the rock as the glob seemed to poke at odd angles in his esophagus as it made its awkward, painful way to his stomach.

“Ranma, stop making fun of me!” Akane said scornfully. “You don’t have to act like you're dying!”

She took a bite and immediately gagged and doubled over.

“See?” Ranma said weakly. “How did you even manage to make it taste this weird?”

“I don't know,” Akane said with concern, picking up the curry mix packaging and holding it by the light of the fire. “I followed the directions on the box exactly, except…”

“ Except? ”

“...except I used a can of beef broth instead of water.” Akane glared at Ranma defensively. “I thought it would be a good idea!”

Ranma picked up the empty can on the ground. “You mean this? ‘Cause this is a can of coffee.”

Akane took it from his hand and morosely turned it around, reading the label. “I guess I’m not very good at this, after all,” she said pitifully. Ranma gave her a bitter glare.

Don’t YOU start crying– I’M the poor sap who’s expected to eat this garbage for the rest of his life.

Akane mustered a smile. “Sorry, Ranma, but will you make breakfast again tomorrow?”

“Are you gonna ask me to make you miso soup every morning?” Ranma said. He conjured a tender tear and put on an air of melodramatic rapture. “But Akane, you know I’ve already been promised to another…!”

“Alright, now I’ve truly lost my appetite,” Akane said. She unlatched her sleeping bag from her pack and stood. “I’m gonna get some rest. Thanks for letting me bunk with you, by the way.”

“Yeah,” Ranma said hesitantly. “You know… you can just have it to yourself.”

Akane blinked. “Huh? Don’t let me kick you out.” 

“You’re not. I just, uh, I like sleeping under the stars.”

Akane tilted her face toward the sky. “But it's overcast. Not to mention windy and cold.”

“No big deal– I grew up roughin’ it on training trips,” Ranma said.

“There’s no need for that, though. It’s not like we won’t both fit.”

Ranma looped the end of his braid between his fingers. “I should… just in case…”

…in case I’m only delaying eventual death by frying pan?

“...in case Shampoo finds us,” he finished with a stroke of inspiration.

Akane scoffed. “What, so she can kill you first? That’s ridiculous!”

“I’m not planning on sacrificing myself for you, if that's what you think!” Ranma said irritably. “I can dodge her in my sleep– just not if I’m trapped in a tent, stuck next to some thick-waisted girl!”

“Thick-waisted…?” Akane scoffed. “You know what? Fine, then! Stay outside!” She ripped open the tent flap and threw her things inside. “The bears can have you, for all I care!”

“What bears?” Ranma snarked. “They’ve all fled to Nagoya after smelling your curry!”

Akane spun around on her knees with a swish of cargo pants brushing a sleeping bag. “I must be stupid because I thought we had fun today, Ranma,” she said. “But if I'm cramping your style so much, then maybe tomorrow we should just go our separate ways.”

She yanked the zipper, and Ranma was alone. He muttered curses under his breath while he broke a spare log of firewood into wood chips. Then he hugged his knees and broodingly mussed the wood chips with his finger. He looked down at the word he had absent-mindedly traced in the pile, IDIOT , and wiped it away. 

Ranma peered over his hunched shoulder. He crawled down from the rock to squat next to the dark, silent tent. He could sense her inside through its skin, an alertness that told him she knew he was there.

“You were right,” Ranma said. “It was fun.”

For a moment there was no answer, and he nearly walked away. But the tent unzipped, and Akane was fuzzy in the scant light reaching them as the fire died from neglect.

“Then what was that about?” she asked.

Ranma stared at his hands, clenched on his knees. “It’s just… you’re arguing with me when I'm doing this for your own good. It’s not your fault that you don't get that, but still… I got annoyed.”

The dry, curled leaves tumbled scratchily over the rocks in the breeze.

“I think you're being… overly cautious,” Akane said. “But if it makes you feel better, go ahead. I won’t try to talk you out of it.”

Realizing he was holding his breath, Ranma let it out in one rushed sentence. “I’m sorry for what I said.”

“It's okay, I’m not mad anymore.”

“No, but… you said those nice things about me and I–”

“I said don't worry about it!”

“--I was happy.”

Ranma looked away from his hands, back through the hole in the tent to Akane. Their eyes adjusted to each other’s faces in the dark. 

He said, “I don't want you to start thinking I'm a jerk.” Again.

“Too late,” Akane said lightheartedly. “But I don’t mind that so much. Just keep it above the belt, y’know?”

“I’ll try,” Ranma said, mirroring her ironic smile. “Goodnight, Akane.”

“Goodnight, Ranma.”

Chapter Text

Akane’s wristwatch chirped awake all too soon, and they descended the mountain in the blue hours before dawn. More yawns than words were exchanged as they crossed through the small sleepy city populated by trash collectors, nurses and convenience store workers coming home from late shifts, and only the most unfortunate commuters. Ranma chanced long blinks that stretched as far as half a city block.

“C’mon,” Akane mumbled, one hand on the map and the other yanking Ranma around a corner before she crossed another near-empty street with her eyes closed.

Akane pinched her own cheeks to wake herself up. With a deep breath full of the smell of brine, she straightened her posture and ventured onto the pier. Ranma padded behind her like a puppy blinking its eyes open for the first time. The fishing boats stationed around the pier bustled with barking crewmen setting their nets and cleaning their hulls. Akane ignored a pair of dockhands who snickered and leered as they passed. Ranma pulled a cross-eyed face, hissed like a snake, and stuck up her middle finger.

Ranma sent preventative death glares around the dock while Akane swallowed her timidness and approached a trio scraping barnacles from the next ship. 

“Excuse me,” she said, trying to sound authoritative, “we’re looking for a boat headed toward Nagoya.”

The men turned in surprise at the young woman’s voice. Two of them exchanged a glance and a chuckle while the one in the middle leaned over her condescendingly. 

“Lookee here,” he said with a coffee-stained grin. “We got a couple fish out of water! Bwahahaha. The ferry’s thataway, missie.”

Akane didn’t flinch. “We’re willing to work in exchange for passage to the west side of Ise Bay.”

He chortled. “Gotta lot o’ fishing experience, do you?”

“We’re strong–”

“How hard could it be,” Ranma said, her eyes narrow, “if a clod like you passes for tough around here?”

“Ranma!” Akane hissed. 

The fisherman scoffed and smirked at his companions. “This has been real entertainin’ but why don’t you little city girls run on home and leave the honest folk alone?”

“Ha. Trying to intimidate these ‘little city girls’ to feel big, and you can’t even manage that,” Ranma sneered.

“What did you say?” More of the crew hung their necks around the boat to watch as the fisherman stepped toward Ranma. 

Ranma uncrossed her arms and stared him down. “I said you cowards like you make me sick,” she said with a smirk so sharp it was a wonder she didn’t cut her lip on her teeth. “I said all the manliness in your body couldn’t fill Akane’s left shoe.” The fishermen in the audience hooted, and the one in front of them glowered.

Akane slotted herself in between them and held up her hands. “We’re not looking for trouble, we’re looking for work ,” she said pointedly with a glance over her shoulder.

“Oh, I’ll help ya find some work,” the man said. He held a hand to his mouth and yelled, “Hey, anyone crossing Ise need two loudmouth little whores?”

Akane instinctively threw her arm out and caught Ranma as she tried to step in front of her.

“Hey!” Ranma yelled in the same mocking tone, leaning over Akane’s arm. “Anyone wanna see this guy lose an arm wrestle to a schoolgirl?”

Curiosity drew a small crowd that swaggered toward them from around the pier. With them came a card table and two mismatched coolers for chairs. Amid whistles and pats on the back, the fisherman took a seat with a smirk. 

“Alright,” he said. “If you beg for a whooping, li’l girl, I don’t mind filling in for your daddy.”

Before Ranma could step out from behind Akane, she sat on the opposite cooler instead and grasped the fisherman’s hand.

“Akane!” Ranma hissed. “What do you think you’re–”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Akane chastised at a whisper, shooting her a fierce glare. She turned back to the coffee-stained smirk as she said, “ I’m doing the honors.” 

“Three… two…” 

The fisherman started pressing down on two. With a small grunt, Akane smashed his hand against the card table so hard its legs folded again. She stood up and wiped her hand on her windbreaker as the table clattered on the pier. There were some whistles and sniggers but no cheers from the audience, the dock that had been busy and loud gone oddly quiet. The fisherman cursed and spat.

“Oh, stop complaining,” Akane told him. “By stepping in for her , I just saved you a broken wrist.”

“Thanks for playing, leftie!” Ranma chimed girlishly, waving, and the onlookers murmured to each other as they began to disperse and go back to work.

Akane sighed. “You didn't need to egg him on like that, Ranma.”

“Whatever,” Ranma sniffed. “Broken wrist– tch. You should’ve let me send him through the dock.”

“And what would that solve?” Akane asked, narrowing her eyes.

Ranma glared back at her. “Are you kidding me? That lowlife needed to learn some respect!”

“I’ve always found that if a man doesn’t see me as a person,” Akane said, “then proving I’m stronger won’t teach him to respect me. Usually it just makes things worse.”

Ranma frowned inquisitively at Akane. Her arms were folded across her chest, and a little frustration pinched her eyes, but she sighed quietly, like she was tired. Ranma felt he was missing something. 

What the heck is she talking about? Punching always worked for me. Except with Kuno, and that’s only when I’m a– oh, right. I guess it doesn’t work when he sees me as a woman.  

He wanted to dismiss it as Kuno being singularly insane, which he was, but for Akane it hadn’t just been him, had it? She’d had to deal with it from all those losers at school, and they’d seemed otherwise normal on the surface when he’d run into some of them later in gym class. Not counting how they’d drool at a macho dweeb like Akane in her gym shorts, since even Ranma himself was a little guilty of that. 

As a woman, instead of as a…

Akane was looking away from him, her stare drifting off across the dock, hardening defensively as it met the eyes of passing workers who sneered their way. And there were a lot of them, a lot of glares and mocking laughs that Ranma had thought were all for old Leftie. 

“Didn’t it feel good, at least?” he asked quietly.

Akane cracked a smile. “A little, but look around. I think this is going to be a bust.”

“You girls look durable,” said a lone fisherman emerging from the dissipating crowd. He was a stocky middle-aged man with coarse brown hair sticking from the bottom of his tuque. “I heard you’re lookin’ to cross Ise.”

“Did you say durable? ” Akane asked.

“We sure are!” Ranma said eagerly. 

“I’m in need of a crew,” he said, and his toothy grin revealed an off-color crown. “If you work for me today, I’ll take you where you wanna go by suppertime.”

Ranma puffed out her chest and gestured to him with a grin. “Alright! Hear that, Akane?”

“Ranma,” Akane whispered, “don't you think something smells fishy about this guy?”

She jumped when the older man popped up right behind them. “Of course I smell fishy!” he said brightly. “I’m a fisherman! Nothing suspicious about that!”

Sweating from the scare, Akane pulled Ranma by the elbow a few steps away for another hushed conference. “There’s something off about this,” she whispered.

“Ah, who cares?” Ranma shrugged. “Some washed-up fisherman’s no threat. And after you showed off your brute strength, he’d be nuts to even try anything.”

“And they don't call me Nutty Suzuki!” the fisherman added, startling both of them this time as he reappeared in the window between their shoulders. “They call me Screwy Suzuki!”

When Akane looked back at Ranma, the other girl’s eye was twitching, her mouth open in a nervous smile. Her eyes slid over to Akane in concession. 

“Okay, I see what you mean,” Ranma said through the side of her mouth. “But remember why we’re here in the first place: this’ll be a major time-saver. And Screwy here is the only one offerin’ a ride.”

“That’s true,” Akane acquiesced quietly. “We knew the company might be… colorful.”

“We’ll do it!” Ranma said energetically to Suzuki, who was crouched behind her holding a tape measure to her head.

“Excellent!” he said, tucking the instrument into the back pocket of his coveralls.

Screwy Suzuki led them to a neglected runt of a commercial vessel, dwarfed by the other rigs in the pier but still oversized for a crew of three, let alone her usually lonely captain. Rust dripped over the red stripe on her dinged and dingy white hull, but her name, Rapunzel , was still legible. Sighing off her reluctance, Akane boarded behind Ranma and Suzuki. The captain hummed a jaunty tune as the engine puttered to life and he directed the boat into the first of the two kissing bays they planned to cross. 

Ranma and Akane crowded in the door of the bridge while Suzuki kept one hand on the wheel and marked a regional map with the other. 

“I’ll drop you gals here,” he said, dotting a spot on the shoreline with his red marker. “And if you’re heading that way, my sister rents out her spare room cheap.” He circled a small town west northwest of the dot and scrawled a street address. “Tell her I sentcha and she’ll treat ya nice.”

Ranma folded the map and added it to her pack. “Dunno if we’ll pay her a visit, but thanks, Screwy.”

“ Ranma! ” Akane hissed. She gave the fisherman an anxiously apologetic smile. “I’m sorry about her rudeness, Mr. Suzuki.”

“All forgiven,” he said. “But you’ll do well to remember: it’s Captain Screwy to you both!” 

Ranma shrugged nonchalantly. Akane’s brow twitched.

He’s fine with “Screwy” as long as we call him Captain?!

“Go ahead and gear up,” Screwy said. He lifted the lid of the storage bench next to him and pulled out coveralls in identical style to his own. “These are for you, Short Hair.”

“Short Hair?” Akane repeated with displeasure as she accepted the coveralls.

Ranma raised her eyebrows, her lids low and unimpressed. “Guessin’ I’m–”

“Long Hair, you can get yours from thatta-there cabinet,” the captain continued, pointing aft of the bridge. “And your trusty PFDs are in the orange chest– can’t miss it.”

While Ranma strolled over to unlatch the metal cabinet, Akane stepped into the coveralls and adjusted the straps. To her surprise, they were a good fit for her height. “Captain Screwy,” she asked, “do you often hire women?”

“Oh, yes,” he replied. “But I would hire men, too, if they met the necessary qualifications!”

Akane squinted; he hadn’t asked a single filtering question before hiring two sixteen-year-old  girls with zero experience. “And what qualifications would those be?” she asked dubiously.

Just then, Ranma turned from rifling through the gear cabinet and stomped back toward the two of them.

“You screwy old man, there’s nothin’ in there but wetsuits!” she said indignantly. “We agreed to go fishing, not diving!” 

“And fishing you’ll do!” Captain Screwy said, holding up his right hand in oath. “No diving!”

Ranma stripped to her undershirt and boxers and yanked on the wetsuit with a scowl. “I get it,” she grumbled under her breath. “Old lech wants to see this figure in something skintight, eh? Not that I blame him, but this is typical, just typical…”

“What are we catching, Captain?” Akane asked, ignoring Ranma’s hushed tirade.

“Ribbon eel,” Screwy Suzuki said. He gave Akane a sidelong glance. “Either of you ever gone after ‘em?”

Akane looked at Ranma, who pulled a face as she slipped her arms into the wetsuit sleeves. 

“Don’t look at me ,” Ranma said. “I’ve never even eaten one.”

“Eaten?” Akane repeated, wrinkling her nose. “Aren’t they more like aquarium fish, though?”

“Shucks,” said Screwy, “I sell ‘em live and don’t ask what happens after!”

“Well, anyway, we don’t have any experience,” Akane said.

Captain Screwy’s pale eyes lit up as he grinned widely. “Not to worry. There’s nothing to it!”

The sound of a zipper traveling up Ranma’s back caught Akane’s attention. Ranma bent forward and squished her braid against the back of her head to draw the zipper up her neck. She twirled the braid casually over a finger as she straightened and tossed her head with a cocky grin.

“The only ones worried right now,” she said, “are the fish! Right, Akane?”

Akane felt an uninvited twinge of admiration as her eyes traveled down the silver wetsuit that revealed the sculpted lines of Ranma’s body usually hidden under baggy clothes, and Akane recalled the tight athletic dress Ranma wore during the golf tournament. She had thought she was beautiful then, but she hadn’t had so much interest in the lean muscles in her arms, her trim waist, or the curve of her backside. The sporty unisex garment suited the vivacious Ranma, and something about it drew the guilty glances Akane tried to avert. She walked away in search of distraction and found the orange container of life vests.

What’s with me today? It’s not like me to be jealous of another woman’s body.

Akane shook her head and buckled the bulky flotation device securely over her chest. She sat on a bench and watched the city shrink in their wake. Dawn had arrived, and while the fog disappeared, a webbing of masts, outriggers, and fishing towers shrouded the shoreline as the larger vessels began to depart behind them, the fleet racing for the morning catch. Akane slowly brought her gaze over the waves swelling alongside the Rapunzel until the wind blew her hair in her face as she turned toward the sun. When she tucked it behind her ear, she saw Ranma squatting like a frog on the side of the boat.

“Hi,” she said.

“If you’re going to pick such a foolish place to sit,” Akane said, “you should think about putting on a life jacket.”

Ranma smirked. “Unlike some people, I’m not so clumsy I’d fall out of a boat, or so uncoordinated I’d drown if I did.”

“Whatever, be reckless,” Akane said disinterestedly. “Just don’t expect me to rescue you.”

“BAHAHA! I’d sooner hire you as a cook than a lifeguard!” Ranma guffawed, teetering on the edge as she rocked with obnoxious laughter, and Akane bristled.

“I have half a mind to push you in myself!” she snapped.

Ranma playfully readied her hands to block. “I’d like to see you try!”

“Kids, I will turn this vessel around!” warned Screwy loudly.

Ranma stepped down from the edge of the boat and sat next to Akane with a smile. “So, I guess you’re feeling alright, after all.”

“Hm?”

Ranma looked away from her, toward the water. “Eh, thought maybe your ankle was hurtin’ or something.”

“So you came over to make fun of me? You have a weird way of showing concern, you know,” Akane said.

Ranma stuck out her tongue. “Nah, I just got sidetracked ‘cause you’re so fun to pick on.”

“Bully.”

“Thin-skin.”

Akane smiled. “Like I told you already, my ankle feels fine. Thanks for worrying, weirdo.”

Ranma averted her eyes again. “Ah… I wasn’t, really. You’re built like a bull.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You're welcome.”

—

Past the peninsula cleaving the two bays, the ship tucked into a northward turn and eased to a standstill.

“Guess this is our stop,” Akane said.

Screwy Suzuki took his hands from the controls and rubbed them together. “Join me at the stern, crew!” he crowed.

He patted a long rectangular bait tank filled halfway with ice. “This here’s our eel hotel. Short Hair, you’ll dump our guests outta the nets and into here. Long Hair, you cast and help her bring the nets in. The way we trawl for ribbon eel is a little unique, so bear with me.”

Captain Screwy dropped an inner tube onto the stern and tightened the knot on the rope attached to it, which trailed from a large spool.

“Don’t tell me…” Ranma said.

“Hop on!” the captain ordered with a cheerful slap on the rubber. 

Ranma plopped herself onto the tube and accepted a narrow windsock of a net from the fisherman before he shoved the inner tube into the water with a flat splash. Akane leaned on the end of the boat to see Ranma floating and looking unimpressed. 

“So, I have to net them by hand?” she said. “What a pain in the neck.”

The captain wagged his finger. “I haven’t taught you the special technique yet!”

Ranma’s eyebrows lifted with cautious interest at the words special technique . “I’m listening,” she said.

“Hold your arms above your head and lean back until the trawl is in the water,” the captain instructed. 

Ranma flipped the net behind her and held her arms straight above her head, then arched backward over the back of the inner tube to dip it in the water while she braced the front of the tube with her legs. Immediately she snapped back from the compromising position with an ab crunch, water arcing from the net as it flipped from behind her into her lap. She scowled at Screwy.

“Why, you– you are just a perv, aren’t you?!”

“I swear,” chuckled the captain, “with this special technique, they catch themselves! Sit up just like that and give the trawl to Short Hair. Short Hair, you can pull her in and out with this.” He indicated a crank on the spool of rope.

“Ranma, I think it’s alright,” Akane said. “He can’t see you while he’s driving, after all.”

“She’s right. You’ll be on your own,” Screwy said. “Good luck, and hold on, Long Hair!” 

The captain zipped back to the bridge with unprecedented speed and restarted the motor at a gentle pace. Ranma floated a few more meters back from the boat until the tube jerked forward. She reluctantly resumed the backbend, and Akane tried not to blush. 

The freezing water rushed over Ranma’s hands and lapped at the back of his head, but he felt quite warm between the wetsuit, the rising sun, and the embarrassment of holding such an unmanly pose in front of Akane. Sure, she thought he was a woman at the moment, but how was she ever gonna see him as a man? With any luck, when her old memories came back, she’d forget all this acting-like-a-girl stuff. But when had Ranma ever gotten lucky? He couldn’t even feel anything in the net, and he cursed that captain.

“This is stupid!” he spat, sitting up again in frustration.

“Ranma!” Akane gasped. “Your hair!”

A yellow and blue striped ribbon wrapped around Ranma’s head behind her ears, finished with a bow on top of her head. Solid, striped, and polka dot bows of diverse colors were tied at each junction in her dripping braid. Ranma pulled at an adorable, frilly pink bow at the end of her braid, and it wriggled to life in her hand.

“What in the– hey, Captain!” Ranma yelled. “These aren’t any ribbon eels– they’re hair ribbon eels!”

“And that’s not a net: it’s a hair net!” Akane added indignantly.

“Oh, didn’t I say?” Captain Screwy said innocently, poking his cheek with his finger.

“No, you didn’t!” shouted Ranma. “You also forgot to mention that I’m the lure! ” 

“You screwy captain,” Akane said crossly. “Now I see why you can’t keep a crew!”

Screwy Suzuki cowered as the scowling short-haired girl confronted him. “I have no choice!” he cried. He pulled up a line hanging off the boat to expose what looked and smelled like a rotting mass of seaweed at the end of it. “I tried wigs, but they don’t last in the water, and the eels only respond to human hair!” Tears spurted from his eyes like sprinklers. “Do you kids have any idea how expensive wigs are?!”

“I don’t care about that!” Akane snapped. “How could you use an innocent girl as live bait?!”

“They’re harmless,” Captain Screwy said earnestly. “I’d go out there myself, but tragically…” He lifted his tuque, and his short hair came with it, leaving a scalp as shiny and smooth as an egg. He burst into the waterworks again and sobbed, “I can't grow long hair of my own! And none of the women I hire can see what docile creatures they really are!”

“By hire, I think you mean trick! ” Akane scolded.

A thump on the deck behind them signaled Ranma’s arrival. She plucked the eels from her hair with her bare hands and dropped them into the bait tank with a confident grin. “Heh. Lucky for you, Screwy, I’m no sissy,” she said. “C’mon, Akane, we’ll fill this sucker up in no time and be on our way.” 

With a yank on the rope, the inner tube dropped back onto the stern, a ring of water droplets splashing out from under it. Ranma took a flying leap onto the rubber and slid back into the water while Akane ran to the back of the boat.

“Ranma!”

Ranma bobbed out of the boat’s wake with a new headful of hair ribbon eels and shouted, “Akane! Get ready to catch!” She squeezed the net over her hair, twisted it shut, and threw it at Akane.

Akane caught the net and squealed in disgust at the wriggling fish inside. “Why did it have to be eels?” she complained. “They’re like slimy wet snakes! How can you stand having these on your head? ”

Ranma grinned. “One thing you should know about me, Akane, is that I’m not scared of anything.”

High behind Ranma, a trick of the light, a glint in the air, was their only warning. It rose and whipped toward the Rapunzel , and a grappling hook looped several times around the spool behind Akane, the high tensile cord attached to it concealing itself among the line tethering Ranma to the boat. A figure on water skis grew larger as Shampoo reeled herself in with the heavy-duty fishing rod on the other end of the intruding rope. A pattern of bubbles trailed up the arms and legs of her lavender wetsuit, a sword itched with anticipation on the utility belt latches around her waist, and she was livid.

“Female Ranma! Akane! You miss Shampoo?” she said. She shoved the fishing rod into her belt and took up the sword instead with a sneer. “Shampoo won’t miss you!”

Akane pulled at the grappling hook, but its claws had embedded themselves deeply into the fibers of the rope and tore indiscriminately at the two tangled lines. If she ripped it out, Ranma would likely get lost at sea along with Shampoo. She tried in vain to snap the thick tether as Shampoo’s skis drifted rapidly toward Ranma’s inner tube.

“Captain,” she shouted frantically, “I need a knife!”

“Don’t got one!” Captain Screwy replied, blithely unaware of the emergent situation. “We don’t gut fish here!”

Akane braced her hands on the stern and yelled with all the air in her lungs, “Ranma! Try to get her sword away from her!”

“Ya think I need you to tell me that?!” Ranma screamed back.

She stood with her feet braced on opposite sides of the inner tube, ducking under the next swing of Shampoo’s sword. Her attacker skated away and swung back her sword to come back in with a heavy blow. Ranma wound her wrist, spinning the net which rose above her like a tornado, spitting water and twisting itself into a rope. She quickly snapped the trawl around the sword’s hilt and disarmed Shampoo with a yank of the makeshift lasso.

“Ranma, here!”

Ranma pitched the sword, net trailing behind it through the air, onto the boat a safe distance from Akane. Vibrating with a wobbly metal sound, it lodged itself upright into the deck. She pounced on it and threw a look over her shoulder at the fisherman whistling in the bridge as she clasped her hand around the hilt and yanked it out of the deck like King Arthur.

“Step on it, Screwy!” she commanded.

“Call me screwy, but I thought I was the captain here, Short Hair,” Suzuki said.

Mutiny blazed in Akane’s eyes as she threatened, “Step on it or I dump the eel!”  

Ranma was nearly thrown from the inner tube, only gripping on the back with her hands, as the Rapunzel revved to full speed. She dragged herself back onto the bouncing raft as Akane lifted the sword and slashed Shampoo’s tether. Shampoo glowered at Akane's interference, and the instant the line severed, she leapt out of her skis onto the inner tube with Ranma.

“Oh, perfect! ” Ranma groaned as she locked into close combat with Shampoo.

While Akane scrambled to help somehow aboard the boat, Ranma grappled Shampoo down onto the tube, the bay rushing eagerly all around it. It washed rapidly against Shampoo’s back as her head hit the rubber with a slight bounce. She snarled at the girl holding her down and sprung a knee into his gut with an animalistic noise in her throat. She struggled out from under his grasp while he was winded, managing a turnover, the fresh coat of the bay dripping down her back. Underneath her now, Ranma grabbed her arms and smiled.

“Hey, nice hairdo,” he said.

Shampoo blinked. Her exceptionally long, thick, and full head of hair was absolutely covered in eels. Her signature twin buns sported four bows each, bows covered the bells she wore on the short strands in front, and the rest of her hair was parted in five tight bubble braids fastened entirely by little ribbon eels. Perplexed, she pulled at one braid, touching an animal that wriggled to life, and her shriek pierced through the wind.

Captain Screwy turned from the controls at the sound. “Well, hellooo , Long Hair!” he said excitedly. He pointed at Ranma and yelled, “You’re now Medium Hair!”

Akane, meanwhile, had found something useful and reappeared at the stern. “Ranma!” she shouted.

She hurled a life ring his way. Ranma caught it and pulled off the net tied to it with a grin. He shoved the ring over the squealing Shampoo, trapping her arms before she regained her sense, and harvested the eels from her hair. He tossed the full net back toward the sound of Akane’s laughter and pushed Shampoo off the inner tube.

“Sorry, Shampoo!” he called. “Coast Guard’ll pick you up eventually!”

Shampoo cursed and thrashed her shoulders against the life ring as she bobbed helplessly in the bay. Akane shook the heavy net empty over the bait tank.

“Jackpot!” she said breathlessly. 

She cranked the rope pulley as the boat slowed again to a leisurely speed. She reeled Ranma’s triumphant grin toward her and felt her own cheeks stretching happily.

“Are you hurt?” she asked.

“Nah.”

“I’m glad,” Akane said. “And look how many eels we got out of it!”

“Why do you sound more excited about that than my wellbeing?” Ranma complained.

Akane laughed and rested her elbows on the edge of the boat. “I wasn't worried– I knew you’d be fine.”

Ranma gave her a firm, satisfied smile. “Got that right.”

“Even so, you wanna come up for a break?”

“After I just got all fired up?” Ranma asked with a grin. “No way!”

Akane waved and let the crank fly.

—

They bid goodbye to Captain Suzuki on a much smaller dock diagonally across the bay from where they left Shampoo floating. Women decked in rubber gloves, aprons, and headcoverings cleaned and gutted fish in the adjacent lot. The mewls of stray cats begging for scraps set Ranma’s teeth on edge.

“Captain Screwy really wasn’t so bad, after all,” Akane said, fiddling with the map he gave them. “He was just… well, you know.”

“Let’s get going, Akane,” Ranma said furtively.

“I agree, but do you think we should go toward this route through Kyoto or more–”

“Figure it out later!” Ranma insisted, grabbing her wrist. “Let’s just go, now!”

“What?” Akane frowned. “Ranma why are you so–”

A skinny cat ran past with a fish head in its mouth. In a blink, Ranma was tensed up in a ball in Akane’s arms, hugging tight to her head. 

“...jumpy,” Akane finished, muffled through Ranma’s elbow over her mouth.

Ranma dropped off of Akane with a cough, staring at her feet.

“Hey, Miss Fearless,” Akane asked with amusement, “are you actually…?”

“N-No! No, I’m not!”

A cat lurking along a nearby fence pounced onto the wiggling thing that smelled of eel– Ranma’s braid. Ranma’s ghastly scream nearly gave Akane a heart attack, and Ranma looked as though she’d had one as she lay with her eyes open but glassy, catatonic and twitching on the dock. The startled cat screeched and ran away.

“Ranma!” 

Akane knelt beside her and shook her shoulders.

“Snap out of it!” Akane said with a slap. Ranma still didn’t wake after three subsequent slaps, and Akane sighed. “Honestly.”

She tried to lift Ranma the same way Ranma had carried her, but she hobbled under the uneven weight of the heavy pack on one arm.

“How in the world did you keep your balance?” she muttered to the slack girl as she put her down. 

Akane put hefted Ranma over her shoulder in a fireman’s carry so that half her body rested on top of Akane’s pack. Akane held Ranma’s wrist and knee with one hand and picked up Ranma’s pack with the other. She carried her to the nearest train station and set her down gently on a bench.

“I’m sorry, Ranma,” she said. “I can’t keep this up like you can, and I don’t know what else to do.”

She took Ranma’s billfold wallet from her pants and purchased two tickets. Ranma remained comatose against the window through the train ride aside from a few unconscious whines. Akane watched a few commuters sit in front of them, sniff, and leave for a less fishy-smelling seat. Akane patted Ranma’s shoulder comfortingly as she shuddered in her catatonia. She sighed and shook her head and couldn't help a tired smile.

Ranma, you dummy. You almost had me thinking you didn't need me at all.

Joggers and cyclists on the sidewalk veered wide of Akane as she climbed out of the train station with her unusual cargo. A young woman gave her directions while her shiba inu sniffed at Ranma’s pack. The town quieted within two blocks of the train station, and it wasn’t much further until Akane found a modest home with a few short trees in its small yard. A brass rain chain hung from the roof above a stone pot by the front steps where Akane dropped Ranma’s bag to knock on the door. An older woman in a housecoat answered. 

“Hello,” Akane said with a bow that bobbed Ranma’s head over her shoulder. “Um, your brother sent us.”

“You needn’t say,” the woman responded. “I can smell as much. Do come in.”

Mrs. Haga lead Akane to a modest guest room just wide enough to fit two single beds separated by a small shared nightstand. She placed a water basin and wash cloth on the dresser.

“Dinner will be in an hour,” she said. “Do try to wash beforehand.”

Akane rolled Ranma onto one of the stiff mattresses and perched herself on the edge of it. She wrung a few drops from the cloth onto her forehead.

“Off! Off! Get it offa me!” Ranma sputtered. Her eyes opened wide and wild.

“Oh,” Akane said. “So all I had to do was pour water on you.”

W-Water?

Ranma turned her mask of panic from the ceiling to Akane and gave herself a frantic patdown. 

“Akane, did you… find out?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“Yes, Ranma, I know your little secret.” Akane rolled her eyes. “You could've just told me, you know.”

Ranma sat up, slow with bemusement, while Akane returned the damp cloth to the nightstand.

“I thought if I did, you wouldn't know who I was anymore,” she said.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Akane said with a smile. “I don’t think you're a total weakling or anything just because you're afraid of cats.”

“Oh,” Ranma said glumly. That secret. 

“Cheer up!” Akane said. “It's cute to have one little weak spot.” She hopped off the bed to take something from her back pocket. “Here, were you looking for this?”

Akane handed Ranma her wallet. A tear formed in Ranma’s eye as she leafed through the notes inside.

“R-Robbery… yes, officer, it was a dorky girl…”

“Oh, stop it. What’s done is done, so we might as well stay here tonight,” Akane said. 

—

Ranma sniffed his braid for the hundredth time to make sure he’d washed out all the fish smell. He heard the door to the adjacent water closet open.

“Ranma?” Akane said through the door.

Ranma pitched up his voice to grunt, “Hm?” as he hopped out of the bath to rinse himself with cold water.

“Sorry, you don’t have to get out right away,” Akane said outside as Ranma turned the tap. “But when you’re done, your uncle’s on the phone for you.”

Ranma shivered under the icy spray of the handheld showerhead. “My who is what?” 

“Your uncle Genma. He’s been staying at my house, you know, so of course when I called home I asked if he wanted to say hello.”

Ranma groaned. “Fine, I’m coming out now. Might as well get it over with.”

After he dressed, Akane handed him the receiver. “You’re on speaker with my family, too,” she said apologetically. “I’ll tell Mrs. Haga you’ll be a minute, but don’t let them make you too late to dinner.”

“Hey… everybody.”

“Hello, son. I thought I should meet the young lady my daughter is traveling with.”

“So this is my niece, eh? Boy, every day you find new ways to make your father weep!”

“Oh my… I do hope this doesn’t permanently affect how Akane sees you.”

“I want my sister back eventually, so can you waste less time fishing and hitting the links?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m having the time of my life out here pretending to be a girl! All thanks to you jerks who made me bring her.”

“You dolt, this is the best-case scenario! Tell her you’re a man and start a new leaf!”

“But, Uncle Saotome, doesn’t that risk her forgetting female Ranma, too?”

“Maybe just keep it this way. I think she likes him better.”

“It does seem the two of you have been getting along. She spoke rather fondly of you.”

“Okay. Since nobody has anything important to say, I’m hanging up.”

“Wait, don’t you wanna know what she said? I’ll tell you if you buy me a–”

“Don’t care.”

Ranma pressed the hook and quickly dialed the clinic, but the doctor was out. Just as well– he could hear plates clinking down the hall. Ranma padded down the hardwood in his socks to the living room. Akane had charmed Mrs. Haga by offering to help set the square mahogany table surrounded by tatami, and the two of them chatted while they carried plates through the sliding door to the adjoining kitchen.

“Thank you very much for preparing this unagi for us, Mrs. Haga,” Akane said. “It smells delicious.”

“Please enjoy it,” Mrs. Haga said politely. “I’m sure you need the energy after what my little brother put you through today.” She noticed Ranma step out of the dim hallway and added, “Especially you, girl.”

Ranma knelt on the flat navy cushion next to Akane. “It wasn’t that big a deal.”

Mrs. Haga raised her thin eyebrows as she dumped a scoop of rice onto his plate. “No need to be brave,” she said. “You’re not the first to come through my door dead of fright.”

Ranma looked down. “That– well, I guess I…”

“Ranma just got too much sun today,” Akane said. “You should’ve seen her out there, Mrs. Haga. The captain was even begging her to come on permanently!”

“Would you consider it? He is rather in need of extra hands,” Mrs. Haga said. “Or I might say heads.”

“We’re just passing through,” Ranma said.

“What a thing for a young girl like you to say. Wherever are you headed?”

“I have to go to China,” Akane said, “because I forgot something.”

Mrs. Haga frowned. “Gracious. Can’t you get someone to mail it?”

“She forgot about the guy she’s engaged to,” Ranma said, “so we’re goin’ there to get her memory back.”

“Really?” Akane asked, dabbing her mouth with her napkin and picking up the notebook that had been tucked in her backpack all day. “Is that what it was?”

Ranma slapped down his chopsticks and twisted toward her irritably. “Hey, Akane. Aren’t you way too cavalier about that little revelation?”

“Well, it’s just–”

“It’s just so tragic!” Mrs. Haga exclaimed. She reached across the table to pat Akane’s hand where it rested on top of the notebook. “You poor dear.”

“I… guess so,” Akane said, a little stunned. “Don’t feel bad for me– I mean, I don’t even know this person.”

She blinked and started to open the journal, but Ranma pounced to grab her hand, holding it on top of the notebook to keep it closed. 

“But Akane!” he said. “You were so in love with him!”

Akane tried to recoil, but he held fast to her hand. “I was?!”

“Oh, yes!” he insisted. 

He glanced across the table. Mrs. Haga looked between them like an avid fan watching a tense tennis match. He had heard his father spout enough bogus sob stories in their time on the road that he knew how to seize an opportunity. He batted tears into his eyes.

“The two of you spent every waking moment together, for neither could bear to be apart!”

Akane’s face squished with mild disgust. “Why are you talking like th–”

“But now,” Ranma interrupted, gripping a karaoke microphone in his free hand, “it’s even greater torture for him to be in your presence, treated like a stranger! As we speak, he– he wastes away, pining for you, unable to eat or sleep!”

Akane covered her mouth in horror. “How… pathetic…”

“ That’s why ,” Ranma continued, glaring at Akane’s unhelpful commentary, “he entrusted you to me, his cousin and best friend since childhood, to take you on this arduous journey across the sea for the only known cure!”

Mrs. Haga sniffled into her handkerchief. “It’s just like a soap opera!”

“Mrs. Haga, you understand perfectly!” Ranma said, widening his eyes and willing them to sparkle romantically.

“But if it were,” Mrs. Haga added thoughtfully, “you would betray your cousin and have an affair… after you reveal yourself to be a man in disguise!” She pointed an accusatory finger at Ranma.

Ranma’s face dropped and he broke out in a cold sweat. “Wha- wha- wha–” he squeaked.

“Oh, I’m only kidding, pet. Is that him there?” Mrs. Haga asked excitedly as Ranma shuddered, nodding to the page Akane finally had a chance to flip open. She looked up from the photo to Akane. “Whatever makes you happy, I suppose.”

“Um…”

Ranma snapped the notebook shut again. “He’s much better looking in person!”

“Hey!” Akane complained, rubbing her pinched finger.

“Listen, girls,” Mrs. Haga said. “I have an errand in Kyoto tomorrow morning. Would you like to ride in my car?”

“ Would we?!” Ranma said a little too enthusiastically. He hid his face with a sniff and wiped his knuckle against an imaginary tear. “I mean, Mrs. Haga, you are so kind. On behalf of my beloved cousin, I humbly thank you.”

“Yes, thank you…” Akane said reluctantly.

“It’s the least I could do,” Mrs. Haga said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

As she left the table, Akane shifted on her cushion to face Ranma and narrowed her eyes at him. “So. Was any part of what you said true?”

“Yes!” Ranma said earnestly.

Akane’s face softened with surprise. “Oh. So…”

“He’s actually very handsome in person!” 

“That’s it?!” Akane scoffed. “Ranma, you lied to her.”

Ranma rested his elbow on the table to lay his face in his hand. “I’m not exactly proud of it, but I need to get this shampoo for you, and that stupid story makes more sense than the truth.”

“What is the truth?”

Ranma glanced at her. “If I told you, you’d just forget. Besides, you lied to her, too,” he said to change the subject. “About why I passed out.”

“That was different!” Color flooded into Akane’s cheeks. “She had the wrong idea, and… well, I’m not just going to blab your secret, even if it’s a really dumb one.”

Ranma turned his head away as he said, “But the truth is that I did wimp out, like she was thinking. I had to make up for that somehow, and the city’s half a day’s travel by foot.”

Akane squinted and pressed her lips together. “You needed to make up for it?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Then, do I need to make up for hurting my ankle?” Akane asked argumentatively.

“Of course not!” Ranma put his hand down and looked at her like she was insane. “That hardly even slowed us down.”

“Same for this,” Akane said. “Maybe I didn’t do it the same way you did, and maybe I had to spend some money, but I handled it as best I could!”

Ranma stared in frustration at her defensive pout. “I never said you didn’t handle it! You just should never have had to!”

“Why’s it okay for you to take care of me, but not for me to take care of you?!” Akane demanded.

Because I’m the guy, stupid!

Ranma flattened his mouth into a thin line.

“I know that you’re stronger than me,” Akane said tightly. “But that doesn’t mean that I’m useless. I can help you, too, and I’d rather you let me. Shouldn’t we be a team?”

Ranma turned the rest of his body toward her, their knees almost bumping as they knelt across from each other on the same side of the square dining table. 

“We are,” he said. He watched Akane’s expression relax, and she smiled as he added, “Dummy. Weren’t you on that boat today? We’re an unbeatable team.”

Akane looked almost cute as she giggled and held out her hand. Ranma shook it with an amused snort. 

“There ya go, partner,” he said. “Happy now?”

“Almost,” she said. “But if we’re really partners now, I think I should at least know the truth. Why are you so invested in getting the shampoo for me?”

The warmth in Ranma’s chest rapidly chilled. The truth? Which version of the truth?

Because I promised “my cousin”?

Because I promised you, even if you forgot that I did, and even if you didn’t care in the first place?

Because you forgetting about me is driving me crazy?

Akane’s smile faded as she waited for him to answer. Her eyebrows twitched over her attentive, trusting gaze. “Ranma, if I forget, you can tell me I promised not to ask again, but won’t you tell me the real reason just this once?”

“A-Alright. Alright,” Ranma said. “The truth is, well, um… I don’t know.”

“ You don’t know? ” Akane repeated incredulously.

“I do know!” Ranma snapped. “But I can’t explain it. I really want you to get your memory back, and I don’t even know why I care so much. I just do, okay?”

Akane turned her knees back to the table and took a thoughtful bite of unagi. 

“You were right: that doesn’t make any sense,” she said after a moment. She smiled brilliantly at him. “But I appreciate the honesty.”

Ranma sighed, not entirely relieved. “While we’re being honest,” he said reluctantly, “there’s somethin’ else you should know.”

“What’s that?” Akane asked over her dinner.

“Sometimes, when I get too scared of a cat, I meow.”

“Huh?”

Chapter Text

Tires slowed with a gravelly murmur just outside of Kyoto, and a car door the color of coffee with too much milk swung hastily open. Akane’s pack filled the doorframe, catching her as she tried to escape, but with a light shove from Ranma, she tumbled onto the sidewalk. Ranma herself followed, kicking off the pavement to pull her backpack through with a pop . Mrs. Haga rolled down the sticky window of her sedan and wiggled her fingers. 

“You two take care now!” she called.

“We will!”

“Thanks for everything!”

Ranma and Akane pasted on smiles to wave from the sidewalk as their heart rates began to calm. When the car pulled away, Akane let out a heaving breath and turned to Ranma, who dropped her shoulders and returned her exhausted look.

“That lady drives like a maniac,” Ranma said.

“I’ve never heard so much honking.”

“Did you get any memories back while your life was flashing before your eyes?” Ranma asked over her shoulder as she started down the street.

Akane smiled and shrugged wistfully. “No such luck.”

In a residential neighborhood on the outskirts of the city, preschoolers played in the sand where two slant streets carved out a triangular playground. The two girls turned down one of them and followed it to a view of the grassy riverbank while the breeze carried a few golden ginkgo leaves from the shaded garden of a tea house ahead of them. Akane rose to the tips of her toes to peek through the lattice topping the wooden fence around the garden to catch a glimpse of patio tables surrounded by stone paths snaking around low topiaries and bushes that flowered in warmer months. Despite daily sweeping and raking, the breeze flowing over the river continuously rustled the trees overhead, and so everything was flaked with the morning’s delicate red and gold autumn foliage.

“How pretty!” Akane fawned. She bounced on her toes and patted her friend’s arm with the speed and lightness of a dove’s heartbeat. “Oh, Ranma, let’s go in for a bit.”

Ranma raised his eyebrows and snorted. “For what? To spend more money we don’t have?”

“Come on,” Akane said with a persuasively excited smile. “It would be such a shame to leave Kyoto without having a single sip of tea.”

Ranma scoffed. “We’re not on vacation, Akane.”

“One matcha won’t cost much,” Akane bargained. Ranma rolled his eyes as she slowed to a turtle’s pace, trying to convince him before they passed the teahouse. “Just a cup, not even a set! We’ll share it! Please, Ranma?”

“What do I look like– your boyfriend?” he said irritably.

“Hmph!” Akane tossed her windblown hair and stepped in front of him on the sidewalk to make room for a teahouse server on her way to the patio. “Fine,” she said, “but you’ll end up with regrets if you’re always so stingy.”

The server’s tray flew into the air as she tripped and splashed Ranma with a hot cup of green tea. 

Crap! NOW I look like her boyfriend!

Before the server could finish her apology, Ranma leapt over the wooden fence into the garden, ducking underneath the wooden lattice.

“Ranma? Ranma, where did you go? …Geez, playing a prank on me just because I called her stingy.”

While Akane called his name on the other side of the fence, Ranma ran around the patio searching for a cold beverage. A couple holding hands broke apart in shock to see his glowering face hanging upside down from the umbrella above their table.

Curse this stupid cold snap! It’s all hot tea!

“Ranma, give it up already!” Akane shouted.

Stop yelling, you idiot! Or you might attract–

On the patio flagstone, an orange triangle of filtered sunlight rose out of the umbrella’s square shadow. It passed smoothly over the pavement and into the grass, disappearing over the garden, and the tangerine hang glider flew on into the sky without its pilot as a figure in light, flowing pants and a red breastplate dropped quietly onto the teahouse roof. Ranma darted under the table between the couple’s legs, much to their perturbation. 

–unwanted attention!

Ranma ran in a crawl back to the patio gate. Shampoo made her way to the front of the cafe over its roof while he leapt onto the fence. Akane’s hands were on her hips, her back to him as she scanned the riverbank for her missing travel partner. Ranma hooked his feet over the top of the fence and grabbed her around the waist and mouth to swing them both back into the garden as Shampoo dropped onto the sidewalk. They landed in a butterfly bush: Akane awkwardly, falling to one knee, while Ranma crouched behind her. Breath puffed from her nose short and fast over the hand clapped against her mouth, and Ranma’s eyes also went wide and panicked.

Wait, don’t be scared of ME, stupid! I just saved you!

Guilty and annoyed with himself for feeling guilty, Ranma held her against his chest and leaned over her backpack to whisper in her ear, “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt y–AHH!”

Akane flung him off her. The garden’s slatted bistro tables with square charcoal umbrellas spun into a blur of orange leaves and sunny sky as he rolled through the air. Two slippered feet were the last thing he saw before his head hit the sidewalk, and for a few seconds, all went black.

Ranma’s eyes opened as his spine bumped up the wooden steps underneath the teahouse banner. Shampoo dragged him by his pigtail through the door with a contented smile on her face.

“Hi, Shampoo,” he said warily from the floor.

“Hi!” she replied cheerfully. “You owe me a date.” 

Shampoo tossed him onto a chair in the corner closest to the entrance. She perched across from him, rested her cheek on her hand, and yawned.

“Teahouse has perfect timing,” she said, letting her eyes close for a moment. “Shampoo had a long night tracking.”

“I’ll go order some tea for us right now,” Ranma said hurriedly. “Stay right there!”

He sprung from his chair to the counter along the left wall. Through the opposite doorway into the garden, Akane passed into and out of sight, searching the outdoor seating area for her lost friend. Ranma sidled along the counter with his eyes fixed on the doorway until a barista cleared her throat. He pulled out his wallet and gave her what he hoped was a charming smile.

“Could you do me a favor?”

Despite her fatigue, Shampoo’s eyes followed him sharply until he returned to the seat across from her.

“You came back this time,” she observed wryly.

Ranma raised his eyebrows and placed his hand over his heart. “Of course I did! I want you to know that you can trust me, Shampoo.” 

Shampoo melted into a smile while behind her, Akane wandered from the garden into the cafe, scanning the interior. Ranma quickly flipped up a menu to hide his face. His date gave him a curious look, cocking one eyebrow as his anxious eyes met hers.

“Can I kiss you, Shampoo?” he whispered.

Shampoo beamed and nodded. “Shampoo thought you would never ask!”

“Okay,” Ranma said, peeking around the edge of the menu at Akane across the room, “close your eyes.”

Shampoo’s long lashes folded onto her cheeks and she leaned her elbows onto the table, clasping her hands rapturously under her chin. Ranma leaned toward her, too, and when their faces almost touched, he began to hum the tune to Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star . 

Shampoo cracked an eyelid. “ Ai ren , what are you doing? This is not kissing.”

“Sorry, Shampoo, it’s just that I’m so nervous to kiss such a pretty girl,” Ranma whispered. “I’m humming to calm myself down first. Just keep your eyes closed for me, okay?”

Shampoo closed her eyes again and let her chin rest on her intertwined fingers. “Okay, but not too long,” she yawned. “Song is making Shampoo sleepy.” 

In the back of the cafe, Akane concluded her investigation outside of the empty restroom. 

“Maybe she didn’t come in here, after all,” she said to herself. “But where could she be?”

“Short Hair?” the barista called. “Solo matcha to go for Short Hair?”

…Ranma?

Akane looked around the cafe, but no one else stepped forward to claim the order. She accepted the to-go cup from the barista and noticed a paper napkin tucked into the cardboard sleeve around it. Akane slipped the napkin free and unfolded it to find a short message inside, the handwriting rushed and cramped.

“Run by the river. I’ll catch up. Ranma”

Ignoring the couple canoodling behind a menu by the door, Akane exited the teahouse with little other choice than to proceed to the vague meeting place. She loitered by the riverbank apprehensively for a minute before she took up a light jog along it to the southwest and hoped Ranma wouldn’t be too long. As capable as Ranma was, Akane couldn’t help but worry about her sudden disappearance, and her absence left an uneasy vacancy that Akane felt with every step, as if she had left her backpack behind. 

In the corner of the teahouse, the final note of the familiar lullaby was barely audible as Ranma lowered the seasonal drink menu onto the table and gently waved a hand in front of Shampoo’s face, bowed lopsidedly on her hands in slumber. He snuck silently away from the table and bolted through the door, heading for the river. He’d find Akane, change back with a quick dip, and they’d be on their way.

After only a few minutes on her own, a spot in the distance slowly focused into a person walking toward Akane through the tall grass bending in the wind. Recognition zipped through Akane’s mind and lit her from within as her spirit buoyed to see her friend, and she picked up her pace into a run.

Akane called out joyfully, “Ryoga!”

Ryoga stopped short and stared hopefully at the girl running his way. “A mirage?” he wondered. “No, can it be– Akane, is that really you?”

“Ryoga, I’m so happy to see you!” Akane cried as she reached him.

“You– you are?!” Ryoga’s eyes widened to better take in his dreams coming true. “Akane, I– I, too, have been longing to see you again! But what are you doing here by yourself?”

Akane bit her lip and cast a frown over her shoulder. “I was traveling with someone, but we got separated,” she said. She touched Ryoga’s elbow as she sighed, “Oh, Ryoga, I’m a little worried. Please, won’t you stay with me until I find Ranma?”

Ryoga tightened his jaw and clenched his fists. “Ranma,” he repeated in a growl. “So that bastard succeeded, then left you all alone.” Ryoga reached for Akane but wasn’t quite brave enough to touch her, so his hands hovered tremblingly around her shoulders as he passionately said, "Don't worry, Akane! I will escort you anywhere, even to the ends of the Earth!”

“Knowing you, it’d have to be!” an angry voice shouted before two legs flew sideways into Ryoga’s head. Ranma crossed his arms and squinted down at Akane peevishly. “If you’re done flirting , it’s time to go.”

Akane, who didn’t realize that statement was addressed to her, spoke to Ryoga, face down in mud the texture of fresh cake under the newcomer’s shoe. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were with someone. I can keep looking for Ranma on my own.” She looked up at the young man, whose face and arms had gone slack. “Are you a friend of Ryoga’s?”

Ranma’s only answer was a strangled noise in his throat as he looked down at his chest and realized that, in his haste to attack Ryoga, he had forgotten his plan to change back.

Ryoga raised his head from the riverbank and wearily asked, “Akane… does it really look like we are friends?”

Ranma stomped his face back into the dirt.

“It’s funny,” Akane said, curiously studying the young man’s face. “You actually resemble the person I’m looking for, except she’s a girl.”

“A girl?” Ryoga repeated, spitting out mud. “What is going on here?”

“Ranma is my cousin,” Ranma said, grinding his heel on Ryoga’s spine pointedly, “who is on her way to meet Akane because she can remember her, Ryoga, so you can just go now.”

Ryoga stood up and cracked his back. “I see,” he said with a smirk. “But maybe Akane would feel safer traveling with me . A man’s mere presence affords protection that a little girl simply can’t offer.” A vein popped in Ranma’s cousin’s forehead as Ryoga offered Akane his hand. “Akane, I would be happy to accompany you, and your friend, should she reappear.”

“Ryoga, that’s very noble of you,” Akane said with a smile, “but we’re very much capable of defending ourselves. Although… maybe we could have avoided some past confrontations if a man was with us,” she conceded, remembering the unpleasant turn the conversation with the dockworker had taken. And hadn’t something weird happened at the teahouse, too?

Ranma’s cousin smacked Ryoga out of the way and took his place in front of Akane. “You’re not needed, Ryoga , because I’m here to pick Akane up.” He gave her a steely look. “Read your journal– it’ll explain everything.”

Akane shifted her pack around her shoulder to take out the spiral-bound notebook. She skimmed through it and said, “O-Oh… wow, okay.” Ranma maintained a defensive glare while Akane scrutinized him dubiously. “I sort of have a lot of questions,” she said, “but most importantly: where’s Ranma? The other one, I mean.”

“Something came up,” Ranma said dismissively. “She’ll meet us later, so let’s get going.”

Akane glanced back at her notes, her own handwriting winking loyally back at her around the unfamiliar words. “I guess that’s fine.”

Ryoga’s head whipped back and forth to follow the interaction among the notebook, Ranma, and Akane. “Wh-What?! Akane, you’re going with him? ” he exclaimed. “But you don’t know the first thing about him!”

“Perhaps not,” Akane said. “But technically we’re engaged, and I thought he was your friend, Ryoga.” She frowned. “Do you really think he’s not trustworthy?”

“Absolutely n– gack! ”

“Absolutely, we’re friends!” Ranma said, hooking his elbow around Ryoga’s neck to choke him while ruffling his hair. “We’re old buddies from middle school, aren’t we, P-chan? ”

Ryoga grabbed Ranma’s wrist and twisted his arm. “Oh, sure. Such good friends that you wouldn’t mind if I tagged along, eh, pal? ”

“Really?” Akane asked. “Well, if you’re not busy, I suppose you’re welcome to join us.”

Ranma wrenched his arm away and slapped Ryoga hard on the back. “Weren’t you actually on your way somewhere else–”

“Nope, not busy at all!” Ryoga said, ignoring the sting from Ranma’s palm. “That settles it, then!” 

Ranma grumbled under his breath, “Shampoo, Ryoga… who’s next, Kuno?”

Behind Akane, Ranma and Ryoga bickered in hushed voices, trading elbows and punches, as they jogged along. She tried to ignore them and enjoy running on that pleasantly crisp sunny day. Still she longed to have another girl around again as she caught snippets from a whispered argument about who was more of a real man and who was a bigger pervert. Their path quickly diverged from the river, to her relief, since the two boys kept threatening to throw each other into it. 

As they continued past an economy hotel and a grassy community practice field into the suburbs west of the city, Ryoga jogged up alongside Akane. “So, did you do any sightseeing in Kyoto, Akane?”

“Not at all,” Akane said. “But I did get to taste some matcha.”

“Y-You like matcha? I’ll buy you some next time I’m there!” Ryoga promised eagerly.

Akane smiled appreciatively at her blushing friend. “Thank you, Ryoga! You’re always so thoughtful.”

“Uh, and who’s the thoughtful person who bought you tea today?!” a boy close behind them said bitterly.

“Ack! Where did you come from?!” Akane asked, twisting in surprise.

“That’s just an acquaintance of mine,” Ryoga said smugly. “Don’t pay him any attention, Akane.”

Ryoga’s acquaintance tripped him. “Dammit, Akane, keep your journal open and don’t listen to that idiot!” he said, running up beside her.

“I suppose I should be taking notes in this more often,” Akane said as she flipped it open, “but I don’t appreciate you talking to me that way, um… Ranma!”

Ryoga caught up to sandwich Akane on her other side as they crossed a bridge, cars rushing underneath with a sound like waves. Next to him ran a curved metal railing splotched with watercolor corrosion, graffiti, and garage band stickers. 

“So, if you’re not looking at this notebook, you forget about this Ranma?” he said.

“I’m not really sure, but it seems that way,” Akane said.

“Can I see it for a second?” Ryoga asked, lifting it from her hands. “Oops!” 

Ryoga pretended to trip, and the notebook flew up over the side of the bridge. Ranma lunged onto the railing and barely kept a grip on it with his toes as he leaned forty-five degrees to catch the book before it fell onto the underpass below. 

“Don’t be such a klutz, chum-p! ” Ranma said, pronouncing the p quietly and belatedly for only Ryoga’s ears. He wiped his sweat and handed the journal back to Akane.

“Thank you for saving it… Ranma,” Akane said with a grateful smile, quickly verifying his name on the page. “It’s important that I don’t lose this.”

“Hmph. You’re telling me ,” Ranma grumbled.

“Sorry about that, Akane,” Ryoga lied disappointedly.

“Ryoga, I know it was an accident, but you were too hasty,” Akane said. “I’d really rather not show it to other people, since it’s a little personal.”

Ryoga and Ranma exchanged a clueless, curious glance. “I’m sorry,” Ryoga said. “I didn’t know.”

Akane rolled her thumb over the pen clipped to the edge of the page like a bookmark. She gave Ranma one last glance, the corners of her mouth ticking up again, before she ran a bit ahead with the notebook close to her chest. Ranma barely caught the click of a hidden ballpoint pen, but his ears burned.

“Curse you, Ranma!” Ryoga hissed as they followed her. “Showing off in front of Akane so she’ll think you’re some kind of hero! You have no honor!”

“Oh, please,” Ranma scoffed. “It’s not my fault if your moronic stunts make me look good in front of that lame-o. I couldn’t care less what she thinks of me.”

“Then, you wouldn’t care if she wrote something bad about you in there?” Ryoga asked slyly. 

Ranma hesitated, his mouth opening and stalling while he stared mistrustfully at Ryoga’s fanged smirk. Then Ryoga’s expression changed into one of exaggerated outrage.

“Ranma, how dare you say that about Akane?!” he said loudly. 

Ranma scowled and darted to Akane’s side. “He’s lying, Akane, lying! I didn’t say anything!” he insisted while she stared in bewilderment.

“Did, too!” Ryoga said, catching up to them. “He called you a la–”

“Oh, spare me!” Akane snapped. “You two are like a couple of little kids! How about some peace and quiet?!” 

“You hear that? She thinks you’re childish,” Ryoga whispered.

“She thinks we’re both childish, thanks to you.”

Akane groaned. “Both of you, shut up! ”

—

The coin clinked against the slot and clattered down into the mechanism hidden inside the payphone. While the line trilled, waiting for the doctor to pick up, Ranma glared across the bookstore, where Ryoga trailed eagerly at Akane’s heels. They disappeared into the lines of shelves, and Ranma sighed and turned away to have his conversation.

“How fascinating!” There was a brief pause as Dr. Tofu jotted notes on the other end of the line. “Pain and strong emotions are suspected to play a role in memory recall, so I wonder if the burn may be the key in this case.” 

“Dunno if that helps me much,” Ranma said. “Not like I could pinch her every time I want her to remember something. Well, I could, but–” 

Ranma paused, his eyes sliding toward the sound of footsteps whose weight and pattern he recognized. Akane stopped when he noticed her approaching curiously, and she peeked at the notebook in her hand, pressed it back against her chest, and cautiously met Ranma’s eyes again. 

“I gotta go,” Ranma said. “Thanks, doc.” The handset clicked against the receiver.

“Pardon me, I didn’t mean to interrupt your phone call,” Akane said. She tucked her hair behind her ear, almost certain but, on the other hand, aware she’d sound completely nuts if she was wrong, she asked, “It’s just, um, are we, are you– ahem – is your name Ranma?”

“Yeah, it is,” Ranma said. “Real flattering photo of me, ain’t it?”

Akane’s shoulders relaxed. The low, warm lights of the bookstore glinted from her eyes as she tried to politely flatten her amused smile. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but that photo’s terrible.”

“I know,” he said with a cocky grin. “I’m pretty handsome in person, aren’t I?”

Akane scoffed. “Pretty full of yourself is more like it!”

“Typical uncuteness…” Ranma grumbled under his breath, pouting at the payphone. When he glared back at Akane, her nose was in her notebook again, and she looked startled when they made eye contact.

He expected another who-are-you , but she surprised him. “Have you really been here this whole time?” she asked.

Ranma snorted. “You followed me into this store, believe it or not.”

“I’m leaning towards ‘not,’ honestly,” Akane said. “The one thing I can kind of remember, and only when I really look at you, is when you bandaged my hand.” She gave him an awkward half-smile. “That… was sweet of you, actually, so thanks.”

“Heh. Still think I’m full of myself?” Ranma asked smugly, raising his eyebrows.

“More than ever after that little comment,” Akane said with an eyeroll. “But at least you have it in you to be nice sometimes.”

“Is that the best you can do?” he griped. Akane simply crossed her arms, and Ranma shook his head to himself. “Sheesh, whatever. Did you find those new maps?”

Akane’s eyes widened like he’d done a magic trick. “How did you know I–”

“I told you we came in here together, dummy,” Ranma repeated flatly. “You really didn’t believe me?”

“Hm. Yes, I found them,” Akane said. “But Ryoga kindly offered to pay for them, and I think he went the wrong way.” She touched her index finger to her chin and glanced around the store. “In fact, I was just looking for him when I ran into you.”

“Oh, Ryoga? You just missed him!” Ranma lied with cheerful opportunism. “He told me to tell you that, unfortunately he’s gotta run, so why don’t you grab another set of maps and–”

The rectangular payphone unit conked against the back of his head as the wall on which it was mounted exploded. Ranma fell flat on his face, dizzy stars in his eyes and buzzy dial tone in his ears, and Ryoga trampled him as he stepped through the improvised door. A man at the urinal on the other side peeked over his shoulder at the loud noise and hastily zipped up when he saw a stunned girl looking through the hole in the wall.

“Akane!” Ryoga said in relief. “I’m glad I found you! Could you perhaps walk me to the register?”

—

The trio made good time through the Osaka region as Akane pushed herself to run ahead of the two boys who would inevitably break from their physical and verbal sparring to chase after her. They calmed down throughout the day into a begrudging truce, and Ranma even began to appreciate Ryoga’s presence as they made camp off a hiking trail in a peninsula of park jutting into a small city. Or, more accurately, he appreciated the supplies Ryoga came with.

Three cans of chili heated in a bubbling pot over the crackling campfire. Each of them sat on a thick log, their makeshift benches forming a cornerless wooden triangle around the firepit, and Ranma glared silently at each of his companions in turn as they engaged in what he considered inane conversation. 

A shadow ringed around Akane’s eyes as she smiled, her cheek stealing the light of the fire. “I wouldn’t have minded cooking, really, Ryoga.”

“I would be honored to try your cooking one day, Akane,” Ryoga said, his eyes sparkling and lip quivering as he imagined it. “But I couldn’t be so selfish, seeing how tired you are. Please, you must pace yourself next time!”

“Ah, that…” Akane let out a little ironic chuckle. “I’m sorry I made you worry.”

Ranma scoffed to himself. He couldn’t take it anymore and picked up the simplistic water container, a plastic bag with a spout, between his and Ryoga’s feet. Most of its contents had been poured into the cooking pot, but Ryoga warily eyed the liter of water that still sloshed inside. 

“What do you think you’re doing with that?” he asked suspiciously.

“Refilling it,” Ranma said irritably. “What do you think I’m gonna do?”

The spout of the squeaky pump on the hiking trail was wider than the mouth of the bag. It splashed onto the leaves underneath with a sound like maracas that dulled into damp pattering as Ranma let go of the lever and shook off the icy water that spilled onto his hand. He breathed in the mild woodsmoke in the air and sighed it out again, lifting his gaze to the stars.

Orion’s belt… yeah, that's all I got.

Two tents partially screened the fire from the trail. From Ranma’s perspective as he reapproached the campsite, their shadows parted to frame the gently backlit pair of campers. Akane’s notebook was open on her lap. Ranma paused in the woods and listened as Ryoga’s hushed voice became clearer.

“...tell you, please don’t fall for it. No one would describe you two as a happy couple.”

“Don’t worry, Ryoga,” Akane said. “I already know that Ranma and I don't have that kind of relationship.”

“Then– and I hope you forgive me for being so blunt, but– why put yourself through this?” Ryoga asked intently. She hesitated to answer, and rather than wait it out, he insisted, “Please, Akane, let me take you home.”

“Ryoga…”

“Akane, aren’t you happy without him?” Ryoga continued boldly. He poked at the ground between his feet, cracking it, as he stammered, “C-Couldn’t you– I mean, I think you would– maybe… you would be happier with s-s-someone else?”

Ranma’s temper erupted so hotly that he barely felt the icy waterfall as he dumped the water bladder over his own head.

Hitting on Akane as soon as my back is turned? You won't get away with this, you coward!

He let the leaves crunch loudly underfoot as he stormed into their campsite. Akane’s face lit up when she turned toward the sound, and she sprung from her log with a gasp. 

“Ranma, thank goodness!”

Their collarbones thudded together as she tackled him into a hug. Blood rushed to Ranma’s head, and for one elongated second, everything was fuzzy: the squeeze of her arms on his shoulders, the smell of her hair, the ringing in his ears, and the murderous look on Ryoga’s face. 

Ranma’s eyes snapped to Akane’s delighted smile as she let him go and said, “I’m so glad you're back.”

Ryoga rose to his feet, his upper lip curled into a vicious snarl, and his stomps sent tremors over the ground. “This farce has gone on long enough!” he announced. “It's time you knew the truth, Akane. Ranma is–”

“Ryoga’s fiancée!” Ranma interjected.

“Huh?!” 

In her shock, Akane froze into a nervous smile, looking to Ranma for a sign that it was a joke. Ranma folded his hands and blinked regretful doe eyes at her while Ryoga’s forehead veins bulged.

“Like hell you are!” he yelled, pointing at Ranma. “As if I’d be engaged to a dude!”

Ranma sniffled. “J-Just because I’m not the most feminine girl out there… doesn't mean it doesn't hurt my feelings when you reject me so cruelly!”

“Why, you–” Ryoga grabbed the front of Ranma’s shirt.

“Ryoga!” Akane gasped. “Would you really get rough with a woman?!”

Ryoga gaped at her. “But– but this isn't a woman!” he said, but he dropped Ranma in response to Akane’s scowl.

“And insulting her like that!” she said reproachfully. She wrapped a comforting arm around Ranma’s shoulders while he faked a sob into his hands. “How could you?”

Ranma spread his fingers wide to taunt Ryoga with a mocking grin. 

Ha! How’s it feel, jerk? For once, Akane’s taking MY side! 

“I know Ranma can be rough around the edges,” Akane continued. Ranma’s smirk dropped and he shot her a dirty look, which she ignored except to emphasize the beginning of the next phrase. “ But she’s a good person. And Ranma, I think you’ve got some things wrong about Ryoga, too. I know him to be a kind and dependable guy.”

Ryoga blushed and rubbed the back of his neck with a dopey smile on his face. “A-Akane, you… you really think so?”

“Yes,” Akane said. Ryoga stiffened and blushed deeply when she took his hand, but all the color ran from his face when she tried to join it with Ranma’s. “So please don't fight.”

Ranma tried not to recoil. The same disgust he felt was evident on Ryoga’s face as he jumped back. 

“Akane, we’re not together!”

“Forget it, Akane,” Ranma said dejectedly. “Ryoga has always refused to acknowledge our engagement.”

“Because it never happened!” Ryoga growled.

“Maybe we both said that,” Ranma said with a sniff, “but I can’t just forget about it as easily as you can!”

“Ryoga,” Akane said with concern, “An arranged marriage isn't anyone’s dream, but if Ranma’s willing to try, then don’t you owe it to everyone to give her a chance?”

Ryoga gaped and helplessly stammered, “But, but, but–”

“Please, Ryoga, couldn’t we try just once to be a real couple?” Ranma asked with tender hopefulness, uncharacteristically sweet and fragile. “Can I at least stay in your tent tonight?”

Ryoga’s jaw clenched. “You bet your boots you’re staying in my tent!” he snapped. “No way I’m letting you two girls –”

“Yay! I’m so happy!” Ranma squealed, throwing his arms around Ryoga’s neck. Ryoga pried him off and gave Akane a sweaty, haunted look.

“I’m happy for you, Ranma,” Akane said, although her smile seemed a little strained. “Now let's eat, okay?”

The heat of the tin can radiated through Akane’s mitten in a way that would be pleasant if her palm wasn’t so sweaty. She scooped a large spoonful of chili, then let most of it fall back into the can again. Her desire to finish eating, to get away from Ranma’s satisfied grin and cheeky sidelong squints at Ryoga, couldn’t overcome the fact that she felt sick to her stomach. Akane forced down two kidney beans and a few morsels of ground beef. She sipped water between each bite and didn’t look up until her spoon scraped the bottom of the can. Ranma and Ryoga were too engaged in some silent conversation of glances to notice.

“I’m bushed,” she said, sounding it, and retreated into Ranma’s tent. She slowly zipped the tent flap closed and, deep in thought, let her hand fall to her knee.

Why does this bother me so much? Do I actually… 

have a crush… 

on Ryoga? 

Akane shook her head with the vigor of someone clearing an Etch-a-Sketch and softly laughed to herself in a nervous, gasping way. 

That’s not possible, right? I mean, I spent all day alone with him, and I didn’t think about him like that at all. Actually, I feel like I was a little annoyed with him the whole time, although I can’t put my finger on why. 

Maybe I’m a little unfairly possessive of him because he’s my first and only guy friend. How silly of me! I should just try to be happy for them, and not think about what they could be doing in his tent right– oh, darn it.

—

Inside the other tent, Ryoga dropped a hot kettle on Ranma’s head. 

“Change back,” he said. “No way am I sleeping in here with you like that .”

Ranma scoffed as the hot water soaked his hair and trickled down his neck. “Gladly. I don’t want you trying anything weird.”

“Feh. You’re not exactly my type , Ranma,” Ryoga said.

“Yeah, right. You’re all hot for a homely chick like Akane, so I know you’re having wet dreams about me .”

Ryoga gritted his teeth and said, “Shut your dirty mouth, or I’ll shut it for you!” 

Ranma caught Ryoga’s fist on its way to his face. “Be careful not to leave a mark,” he said snidely, “or Akane will think you’re a wifebeater.”

“You don’t even deserve to speak her name,” Ryoga said righteously. “What do you think you’re doing, letting her think you’re a girl, getting her to drop her guard around you?”

“What exactly are you so worried about, P-chan? Me peeping on her, sharing her bed, or snuggling up to her?” Ranma asked sarcastically. 

“You…”

“Relax, moron,” Ranma said, rolling his eyes. “I’m not low enough to poach on your perverted turf, even if I did have any interest in that barrel-bodied dweeb.” He flapped out his sleeping bag and snorted. “Geez. I can’t decide if you’re a bigger coward or a bigger hypocrite.”

“At least I’m not dragging poor Akane across the country just so she can remember the likes of you! ” Ryoga said furiously. “You don’t even care about her, you selfish bastard!”

“Wasn’t my stupid idea,” Ranma muttered. “Our pops made me take her.”

“That’s no excuse for putting her in danger!”

“Oh, please,” Ranma said. “I’m keeping Shampoo away from her just fine.”

The vein across Ryoga’s temple popped. “Shampoo’s after her again?!”

Ranma pressed his knuckles to his chin. “Oops– I guess you didn’t know that, huh?”

Ryoga smacked the back of Ranma’s head. “You imbecile! Why don’t you just go back to China with that dangerous woman and never show your face around here again?”

Ranma bopped the top of Ryoga’s head with his fist. “For starters, she’s trying to kill ‘female Ranma,’ dimwit.”

“Ranma, this is serious, so allow me to speak plainly,” Ryoga said. “Shampoo’s targeting Akane because you’re two-timing them.”

“I am not –”

“Let me finish!” Ryoga snapped. “If you break up with Akane, she’ll be safe. If you don’t, Shampoo will come after her and might try to kill her this time! And for what? Just so Akane can remember how miserable she is being engaged to you?”

Ranma pursed his lips under Ryoga’s intense glare as his stomach clenched painfully, rejecting the argument. “Shut up, Ryoga,” he said without any fire. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He looked away, scowling at the empty space in the dark brown corner of Ryoga’s tent. 

“Don’t I?” Ryoga challenged. “She sure seems a lot happier having you as her girlfriend , so why don’t you just stay that way? It’s time to step aside and let a real man take care of her.”

Ranma sneered, “Who might you have in mind, pig? ”

“If you cared about Akane at all, you’d leave her alone,” Ryoga said seriously as he got into his sleeping bag.

“Enough of the self-righteous crap, Ryoga,” Ranma said. “I’m not gonna let Akane live under some kinda mind control forever just ‘cause you wanna edge your way in.”

“Well, I’m not going to let you risk her life just to assuage your bruised ego!” Ryoga countered, sitting back up. “In fact, I challenge you! If I win, I’m escorting Akane straight back to Tokyo.”

“Like you could even manage that,” Ranma scoffed.

“Do you accept the challenge or don’t you?!” Ryoga demanded.

They glared at each other under the light of Ryoga’s lantern. “Okay,” Ranma said. “But if I win, you’ll leave before dawn.”

The two shadows on a spot of burnt orange were snuffed. Ryoga unzipped the tent quietly, the lantern, dark but hot to the touch, in hand. Ranma ducked through the tent flap behind him, and they snuck silently away from the campsite, headed for a well-lit city park they could see in the distance. But after only a few steps on the trail, Ranma stopped.

Ryoga paused in front of him and smirked over his shoulder. “What’s wrong? Are you scared, little girl?”

“This is stupid,” Ranma said. “I’m going back.” He started walking the way they came, with Ryoga trailing behind him in confusion.

“You accepted my challenge!” Ryoga stage-whispered. “This means you forfeit!”

“Fine, then I forfeit.”

Ryoga grabbed Ranma’s arm and forced his shoulder open like a door. “What’s the matter with you?”

“I changed my mind,” Ranma said sharply. In the lingering moment before he jerked his shoulder away and turned around again, his serious glare warned Ryoga not to try it a second time.

Ryoga fell silent as they reentered the campsite, until they were back inside his tent. Ranma immediately climbed into his sleeping bag and turned on his side. Ryoga shook his head and said to Ranma’s back, “I thought I had misjudged you before, but it turns out you really are a coward, after all.”

“Look, moron: Akane’s sleeping, thinking we’re here to protect her, so that’s what we’re gonna do,” Ranma said. “I ran into Shampoo today , and Akane doesn’t even know how close she was. Do you really think I’m gonna leave her right now to go fight a meathead like you?”

Ryoga didn’t answer. He laid down and shifted his sleeping bag over his shoulders. “I’m taking her home tomorrow.”

“Be my guest. But good luck convincing her to go.”

Morning came with tiny cubes of freeze-dried tofu floating in instant miso soup. Ranma swirled them in his bowl, his appetite suspended by the way Ryoga kept clearing his throat. Each time, Akane’s eyebrows perked up as she politely looked at Ryoga, then shot a glance at Ranma when Ryoga didn’t say anything. The three of them sat equidistant around the firepit taking awkward sips of their soup. Two heads flipped up when Akane suddenly broke the silence.

“Maybe I’m wrong, Ryoga,” she said, “but I get the feeling you’re leaving.”

“Y-Yes,” Ryoga said, his voice breaking. He cleared his throat and glanced at Ranma. “I’m going back to Tokyo, and Ranma and I agree that it would be best if you came with me.”

Ranma avoided Akane’s probing gaze, staring into his bowl again. “Yeah,” he said.

“Thank you, Ryoga,” Akane said gently, “but I’m going to China, and that’s that.”

“Then I’m coming, too,” Ryoga insisted.

“Please don’t change your plans on my account,” Akane said. “It was very chivalrous of you to come with me yesterday while I was by myself. But don’t worry, Ranma and I will be just fine.” She turned to Ranma. “We said we would look after each other, didn’t we?” 

Ranma smiled softly. “Yeah. We got it covered.”

“Well, then,” Ryoga said defeatedly. He bit his quivering lip and placed his empty bowl on the ground before he stood and shouldered his pack. “Take good care of her.”

“I will,” Akane said.

Ryoga hesitated at that, and shot a glare at Ranma, who was suppressing a laugh. 

Suck on that, Ryoga, and get outta here, you squeaky third wheel.

“Did you two have another fight?” Akane asked when Ryoga had gone.

“Yeah, it’s not gonna work out.”

“I’m sorry,” Akane said with a smile.

“I was gonna say, ‘Don’t be,’ but looks like you’re one step ahead,” Ranma said lightly.

Akane laughed. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but I’m honestly a little happy. It’s just, something told me that he wasn’t the one for you, anyway.”

“You can say that again.” Ranma slurped the last of his miso soup and ladled out another serving.

Akane began delicately, “The part about you not being feminine enough–”

Ranma pulled a face. “Blegh, Akane, don’t tell me you think I’m feminine. I know I’m not, and I like it that way.”

“Hm.” Akane’s eyelids lowered as she directed a reserved smile at her bowl. “You know, I like you that way, too.”

Ranma tilted a grin toward her. “Good, ‘cause I ain’t changing.”

“Seeing you be so confident in who you are makes me feel better about myself,” Akane said. “I mean, it’s not a big deal, but I still really wish that I could be more ladylike sometimes.”

“...For real?” Ranma looked down and knit his eyebrows. “Does it hurt your feelings when I call ya a tomboy?” 

Akane laughed. “Maybe it would, if you were a girly-girl.” Then she added emphatically, with a raise of her eyebrows, “Or a guy .”

Erk.

“I figured you liked actin’ like a tomboy,” Ranma said. “Uh, like I do, I guess.”

“It’s fine for me, but when it comes to the opposite sex…” Akane rolled her eyes with a self-depracating smirk. “It sounds dumb now, but I used to keep my hair long so that the guy I liked wouldn’t think I was a tomboy.”

Ranma’s mouth fell open. “That’s why?! But I like you this way!” he said thoughtlessly. He corrected himself, “Like your hair this way, that is. And, I think, you know, a guy would, too.”

“Thanks, Ranma.” Akane smiled warmly. “I know you’ll also find the right person, so it’s Ryoga’s loss.”

“No kidding. I’m way out of Ryoga’s league.”

“I was really shocked to learn that he was the fiancé you were talking about,” Akane said. “I had never seen his violent, stubborn side before this.”

Ranma hesitated. “I think you should be more careful around Ryoga, Akane, but that… that wasn’t his fault.”

Akane frowned curiously. “What do you mean?”

“He wasn’t in the wrong,” Ranma said. He looked into Akane’s eyes. “I pushed his buttons and made him mad on purpose. So you shouldn’t judge him for how he acted.”

Akane held her clear gaze for a moment and shrugged. “If you say so, then I won’t.” She thoughtfully watched Ranma drain another half a bowl of soup and said with a soft smile, “You know, Ranma, you really are a good person.”

Akane’s bangs were damp and still a little stuck out of place after she splashed them with water and tried to curl them with her finger. She was wearing those cargo pants again, the ones from the day she’d twisted her ankle, and Ranma’s eyes traveled to the rose-patterned decorative patch above the left knee. The texture of the soft cotton patch contrasting with the sturdy twill returned unbidden to his mind. Beyond that, he could remember the warmth of her thighs through them while he carried her for hours that afternoon and how her delighted laughter had painfully palpitated a swollen happiness inside him, overshadowing any ache in his tired arms.

Akane, you’re so stupid. I probably am a selfish bastard, and you’re the only one who’s a good person.

“Cute, right?” Akane said, noticing Ranma looking. “My sister Kasumi and I made them together.” She rolled her eyes and corrected herself. “Well, Kasumi made them, but I bought the pants and picked out the fabric.” She twisted her leg to show off more patches. “Which pattern do you like the best?”

“The rose,” Ranma said. 

Akane grinned. “Hey, me too! That’s why I put it where I’d see it when I’m sitting down.” 

Ranma scratched the back of his head. “I don’t really get that part, but I guess you like roses?”

Akane nodded as she took a sip from her bowl. “Mhm. Do you have a favorite flower, too, Ranma?”

“Never thought about it,” Ranma said. “But roses are nice.”

“Copycat,” Akane scoffed jokingly. “Get your own opinion.”

“Uh… chrysanthemums are a flower, right? Those’re good in hot pots.”

Akane scrunched her face with a minute shake of her head. “What, the greens? You think with your stomach more than your head. Do you even know what that flower looks like?”

“I’m sorry I’m not a botanist, Akane,” Ranma said sarcastically. “I said roses and you made me pick something else!”

“It’s not fair to roses if you pick them just because they’re the only flower you know,” Akane sniffed. “I have to defend their honor from bandwagoners like you.”

“Shut up. I can’t believe you called me stingy when you won’t even share your favorite flower.”

“Are you still hung up on that little comment?” Akane said. She rolled her eyes and smiled slyly. “You did buy me a matcha, so I guess I’ll take it back. Maybe you are boyfriend material, after all.”

Ranma choked on his soup and spilled a bit down his front while he coughed. Akane thumped him hard on the back and laughed.

“Just joking, dummy.”

Chapter Text

The parade route was thickly insulated by frustratingly stationary people lining the streets. Children wove giggling around their knees. Parents crouched behind the smaller ones, holding them protectively back as they stuck waving arms through the metal barricades to greet the floats rolling leisurely past. Tinny speakers pumped fanciful music through the steam swelling from the yatai carts that further crowded the street like elephants in winter coats, their bulk padded by huddling customers. The few people moving ambled in all directions, almost none in a hurry. Only two dark heads bobbed with a sense of purpose deep within the crowd, struggling to navigate peacefully through the dense thicket of human beings.

“Sheesh, Akane, some shortcut this is,” Ranma complained, hanging onto her hand to avoid getting separated while they slipped through the narrow gaps between strangers’ shoulders. “Gonna take us all day just to get past the parade.”

“Well, excuse me , Ranma,” Akane said. “The map didn’t exactly come with an events calendar.”

Ranma shot a resentful glare at the wide banner spanning above the street between two poles wrapped with glittery garland. “Who ever heard of a ‘fairy tale festival,’ anyway?”

“Must be a local thing,” Akane said, following Ranma’s gaze to the fanciful decorations. She paused as a small boy tripped at her feet, then scrambled clumsily upright and kept running past without tears. She suppressed a giggle as she turned sideways to let his haggard mother shuffle after him. “It looks fun, though,” she said brightly. “We should come back to actually enjoy it next year.”

Ranma at first merely glanced at her in acknowledgement, then turned her head fully on second thought. “Hold on. Since when are we hanging out next year? ”

“Oh, sorry,” Akane said airily. “I forgot we promised to say goodbye forever and never to write.”

“Heh.” Ranma chuckled and said ironically, "Well, I dunno where I’ll be next year. But like it or not, Akane, I think you’ll be seein’ a lot of me in the meantime.”

“Not too much, I hope,” Akane joked. She beamed while Ranma grimaced and rolled his eyes.

Yeah, way too much. No way I’d survive a year, if me and Pop could really stay that long.

A woman gasped with appreciation when her little daughter wiggled in her grip, squealing excitedly and pointing a stubby arm at an intricate float rolling down the asphalt. A sea of one hundred marching people hauled the cart supporting a two-story tall castle with an underlying structure like a four-tiered wedding cake. Thin plywood towers, turrets, and battlements curved around each tier to frame moving storybook pictures– actors pantomiming Cinderella . Doppelgangers in identical costumes popped in and out of doors on each tier like a magic act of cuckoo clock figures, reenacting a scene here, the next there. 

“Are you seeing this, Ranma?” Akane said, patting her friend’s shoulder excitedly as it passed. 

“Sure am,” Ranma said, narrowing her eyes. “Can’t believe that monstrosity’s moving faster’n we are!” Akane looked back at Ranma’s fed-up pout when she grabbed her elbow. “That’s it,” Ranma said. “We’re going over their heads.”

“I said no!” Akane hissed. “Not in public!”

Ranma scowled. “I’m trying to get out of public, you image-obsessed airhead!”

“You think you’re laying a finger on me after saying that , you stupid jerk?!” Akane scoffed.

“You think I want to?!” Ranma sneered, turning nose-to-nose with Akane on the busy sidewalk. “I wouldn’t have to carry you in the first place if you weren’t such an uncoordinated geek!”

“Hmph!” Akane turned away, sticking her nose in the air. “Shoo. I’m enjoying the parade, anyway.”

“You’d better,” Ranma grumbled. “No way am I bringing you to the next one.”

“Fine by me!”

Akane crossed her arms and stood still to watch the next float, just to irk Ranma. The seething girl appeared predictably in her peripheral vision, hovering next to her shoulder. But before Ranma could say anything, he felt a tug on the leg of his pants. He looked down to see a young girl, about five years old, with pink baubles holding her braided ponytail high on the back of her head. She held a terry cloth doll with button eyes and a water-stained princess dress.

“Eh?” Ranma crouched to her level. Akane dropped her arms, taking notice of the girl as Ranma said, “Hi… are you lost or somethin’?”

“Ex- cuse me,” the little girl said with precocious politeness, “are you two mar- ried ? ” She blinked her innocent eyes, almond in shape and color, from Ranma to Akane.

Over Ranma’s shoulder, Akane leaned down with her hands on her knees, laughing lightly. “No, sweetie,” she said. “Girls can’t–”

“Wh-Wh-Why would you even ask that, you creepy kid?!” Ranma stammered, red-faced. Akane dusted a smack across the back of her head.

“Ranma!” she said reproachfully. 

“Oh,” the girl replied, her tone falling over the vowel. Her shoulders shimmied as she squeezed her doll. Matter-of-factly, she said, “But you argue just like my mommy and daddy.”

Ranma’s and Akane’s jaws dropped identically. Ranma snatched up the little girl around the waist and lifted her above her head. “ANYBODY LOOKING FOR THIS ONE?” she yelled.

A pair of arms decorated with a sterling silver bangle reached up nearby before a pair of worried almond eyes bobbed above and fell back below the crowd. “Chi-chan!” a woman called.

“Mommy!” Chi-chan squealed in Ranma’s hands.

“I’ve got her, Naoko!” yelled the man with square glasses and neatly parted but slightly mussed hair pushing through the crowd. 

His petite wife tottered anxiously behind him in a loose dress with a white lace collar and a  buttoned cardigan that just hinted at a roundness underneath. The couple bowed their heads appreciatively as Chi-chan’s father took her from Ranma.

“Thank you, miss,” he said. He and his wife shared an affectionate smile of relief before they turned away and the husband said, “What were you thinking, dummy, jumping around like that?! You should’ve just let me handle it.”

Chi-chan’s mother scoffed. “You couldn’t handle watching her in the first place!”

“Maybe if someone hadn’t declared a dango emergency of national importance, I wouldn’t have been so stinking distracted!” her husband retorted, his voice fading with distance.

The last they heard of the argument was, “ Someone is carrying your firstborn son, you ingrate!”

Ranma and Akane exchanged a glance, then a brief snort of laughter.

“K-Kids, huh?” Ranma said somewhat awkwardly.

“Gee,” Akane laughed, shaking her head. She looked over in the direction the small family had gone with a thoughtful smile curling on her lips. “I felt a little sad when she said that, but… they didn’t seem so unhappy.”

One corner of Ranma’s mouth tugged up as she scratched the back of her head. “You know what they say about couples who fight a lot,” she said with a shrug.

“I believe it,” Akane said. They looked at each other again briefly, amusement lingering on their faces. Ranma cleared her throat.

“Guess we’re gettin’ weird looks, anyway, if that kid’s any indication,” she said. “So whaddaya say?”

“O-Okay,” said Akane reluctantly. “But make it quick.” 

She hooked her elbow around Ranma’s neck, diverting her gaze self-consciously away from Ranma, away from the witnesses, away from the ground because Ranma’s breasts inconveniently obscured it, and finally to the safety of her own shoulder. Ranma slipped her hand around Akane through her backpack and cinched her waist.

“Quick is my middle name,” was her smug reply.

The swath of hungry people listening to the crackle of hot oil looked up from a strainer fishing out fried shrimp to a shadow passing over the tempura cart. Ranma leapt from its roof to run along a short length of cinderblock wall before she skipped across the dango stall and glanced one foot off a streetlight to land on top of a balloon stand. She ignored and Akane cringed at the gasps and pointing below them while they flew over the crowd. Akane turned her attention to the parade running alongside them, which seemed to reverse direction as they outpaced it. But she couldn’t shake the keen awareness of all the eyes on them, or the slithering suspicion that one stare wasn’t coming from below. Ranma overtook the castle float underneath the festival banner as Akane’s gaze traced up the garland-wrapped pole to where it was choked between Shampoo’s crossed thighs. Shampoo, with one hand on the pole and the other on her chui, smiled.

“Get down!” Akane hissed.

“Wh–”

Akane slipped out of her pack to pop up from Ranma’s arms, clasped her fists, and brought them down like a hammer on Ranma’s head. They plummeted amid brief screeches and squeals from the crowd, which fearfully squished open a pore to let them crash to the sidewalk.

“Wh–?!”

Akane smothered Ranma’s outcry with her hand and whispered, “Shampoo!”

Akane hastily threw her pack back on while Ranma glanced up to see Shampoo’s graceful flight into the crowd. She vanished in the forest of people much too nearby. Ranma and Akane scrambled on their hands and knees, jostling through their path as sneakers flinched back, booties turned on their heels, and loafers stepped away. Indignant squeaks warned of Shampoo’s approach as she searched for them indiscriminately, peeking in strollers and lifting up long skirts. 

Ranma looked over his shoulder for a fleeting conference with Akane’s eyes and jerked his chin forward. They tumbled out of the crowd and hopped the barricades, then somersaulted into the street on the heels of the people marching around the castle float as it rolled by again. Ranma jumped quietly onto the back of the float with a glance behind to see Akane land behind him. They peeked around a thin facade of a tower until the actor scratching his head over the glass slipper turned toward the door painted like a gatehouse. Ranma dashed forward, Akane close behind, and they skidded quietly in behind the actor like stealing a stealthy home run. 

The float’s interior was a bustling playground of scaffolding and portable stairs with the trappings of a theatre’s backstage. Ranma and Akane ducked behind a rolling clothing rack draped with tight costumes that, empty, hung limp and stringy. An actress playing a mouse plucked with a sigh at a tear in her leotard. She rifled through the rack, picked an agouti noodle of fabric, and slipped behind the curtain of a changing stall.

Akane’s and Ranma’s hearts pounded inside the black closet they’d sprung into. In the narrow space, their backpacks sandwiched them uncomfortably against the door. The plastic garment bags hanging inside crinkled as they each tried to turn around. They found the closet not much wider than it was deep– found themselves squished together at their torsos. Each was grateful the other could not see their face in the dark.

“Uh… uh,” Ranma breathed against Akane in the moment before he came to his senses and wriggled his pack from his shoulders and took half a step back. “Sorry.”

Akane followed suit and said quietly, “We’ll be discovered here sooner or later. Why don’t we borrow some costumes…? So we can blend in.” The sound of plastic under probing fingertips followed her suggestion.

“G-Good idea,” Ranma said nervously. “Can you even tell what you’re puttin’ on? I can’t see a thing.”

“No,” Akane said with the hook of a hanger clinking gently against a metal rod, “but it doesn’t matter. Probably everything’s one-size-fits-all.”

The knife-edge gap under the door let in little from the already dim interior, and Ranma silently prayed his gratitude for the near-absolute darkness as they disrobed in tandem. It was bad enough that his bare arm brushed hers as he pulled something stretchy up his legs, and the unexpected contact riled him like rubbing a cat’s fur the wrong way. 

“I– I really can’t see what I’m doing at all!” he blurted.

Akane shushed him and whispered irritably, “Just be quiet and try not to put it on backwards.”

He bitterly noted that whatever Akane was dressing in sounded like it had thicker fabric, and he heard a long zip that heightened in pitch as it travelled across Akane’s back. Their arms bumped again, covered now, as they knelt to stuff their own clothes into their packs.

“Let’s stash these here,” Akane said, “and hide out for a while. Hopefully Shampoo will think we left.”

“Yeah, hope so,” Ranma agreed.

They stepped out of the closet and quickly appraised each other before they looked down at their own costumes.

“Ooh,” Akane said happily as she spun in her swishy, puff-sleeved dress, “I’m a princess!”

Ranma snapped the green long-sleeved V-neck leotard layered over her matching opaque tights. “And what am I?” she complained. “The pea?”

“I think this goes with it,” Akane said.

She lifted a felted green sphere from a cubby on a shelf of accessories and shoved it over Ranma’s head. Ranma held up a hand mirror to see his face surrounded by a cartoonish frog head topped with googly eyes. The tuft of bangs on his forehead looked like a mustache underneath the black felt nostrils. Akane giggled.

“No way,” Ranma said, but Akane pressed down on the frog between its eyes to prevent her from taking it off.

“No, no!” she insisted. “It’s perfect; now you can go outside to check for Shampoo, and she won’t even recognize you. Besides,” she added, giggling again, “you look adorable.”

Ranma narrowed her eyes. “If by adorable , you mean stupid . Which I think you do!”

Akane fell short in her attempt at a straight face, only suppressing her laughter into a smile. She replied, “Two things can be true at once.”

“Fine,” Ranma conceded as she craftily eyed the shelf, “but you’re gettin’ one, too.”

She grabbed a nearly identical object, of the same shape but brown in color, from the shelf. Akane threw up her arms to block Ranma from forcing it onto her head, and kneed her backward. Ranma gripped the animal head and hunched aggressively, lowering her eyebrows and smirking in preparation for a fight.

“Stop it!” Akane scolded. “Who ever heard of a bear princess? I’ll pick out something that actually matches!”

“Geez, how vain can you get?” Ranma grumbled.

“It’s not vanity, dummy– the whole idea is to blend in , remember?” Akane selected a headpiece and settled the combs of its tiara into her hair, sweeping the sewn-in veil over her face, and said into the mirror with a satisfied smile, “It’s just a bonus that it’s cuter.”

“Tch.” Ranma crossed her arms. “The bear suited you better.”

“Stick a fly in it, Ranma.” Akane stuck out her tongue and laughed freely at the contrast between Ranma’s sour expression and cutesy headgear. “Okay, that’s enough dress-up, don’t you think?” she said. “Let’s go see if Shampoo’s following us.”

Ranma reluctantly followed Akane up the stairs to the highest level of scaffolding. They carefully slipped past two actors, one checking a watch and the other reapplying powder, through a door fashioned as a balcony window. Ranma knelt behind the wooden image of a rose planter and peered down at the crowd. 

“Yeah, she’s down there, alright,” he said. 

Akane crouched beside her and watched their furious pursuer lift up an entire mobile food stall, then drop it again in frustration. The two girls nodded in silent understanding and crawled back around the top tier of the castle to the door. Just then, the two actors stepped outside smiling and holding hands.

“Hey!” the man in the crown and tuxedo said tightly from the corner of his grin. “This is Cinderella. You’re on the wrong float.”

Through the gap between her two front teeth, the woman in the ballgown added, “You’d better catch up!”

Without missing their marks, the prince and princess waved to the children while they simultaneously punted Ranma and Akane toward the float far in front of them. They flew in an arc from the castle to a single-level structure split in two. The ruffles of Akane’s petticoat flew up as she landed on her butt with an oof and rocked with momentum on her back. Her head knocked on the float’s central wall, and she sat up in a meadow where an innocent girl twirled and sang a wordless tune. On the other side of the float, there was a splash.

The cloaked witch in her grotto jumped back with her stirring stick when a frog fell headfirst into her bubbling cauldron emitting vapor. The googly eyes of Ranma’s headwear depressed like buttons on impact with the bottom of the cauldron and popped off, floating to the top of the boiling potion. The frog head collapsed and unfurled into sections of fabric in the water. Ranma’s cheeks bulged with an unreleased scream as he stayed down despite the pain and grabbed the strange remains of his helmet.

HOT!!! HOT!!! HOT!!! But I can’t let Akane see me, especially not in the freakin’ leotard!!

Akane grabbed hold of the fake vines on the wall and scaled it like a rock climber. She touched down on the other side and, remembering the splash, approached the cauldron.

“Ranma?” she asked as she upended it.

Only two curved halves of a plastic sphere and two bouncing googly eyes fell out as hot water splashed onto the stage. The spectators on the sidelines oohed and clapped at the disappearing act. Above Akane’s head, Ranma’s heart beat wildly from where he’d wedged himself in the bottom cauldron.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” shouted the witch, shaking her stirrer.

“Oh… sorry!” Akane dropped the cauldron with a careless clatter to bow in apology to its owner. 

No longer drowning or boiling, Ranma examined the wet fabric still hanging onto him from a plastic ring around his neck. They like cutouts of a sewing pattern, green on one side, white with snap fasteners on the other. Ranma hastily snapped sections of the transforming quickchange costume around his limbs while the conversation continued outside of the cauldron.

The actress on the other side peeked above the wall, pouting. “You’re kinda, like, stealing my thunder over here!” she complained.

Akane muttered another apology as a familiar googly eye rolled into her foot. She knelt, picked it up, and turned it over in her hand while she studied the other plastic pieces 

“Are these parts of Ranma’s costume?” she asked herself aloud. “I wonder if she changed…”

Behind Akane, the witch gawked when a prince popped his head out of the cauldron. Their audience ahhed and clapped again for the magic trick. Shampoo looked up from shaking an upside-down trash can and discarded it gleefully over her shoulder.

“ Ai ren! ” she called. “Ranma!”

Ranma?

Akane’s head jerked from the plastic piece to the direction of Shampoo’s voice. Ranma snatched the witch’s cloak and booked it.

“Why, you–! Thief!” the robbed actress yelled, pointing after him. 

Akane followed her finger to a cloaked figure with a black braid weaving through the marching band toward the next parade attraction, where dancers in inflatable dragon costumes danced to the live music under a giant, squiggly dragon balloon. Ranma looked somehow taller than usual, but that was definitely her braid, and that was definitely Shampoo tailing her! Tubas and horns honked and quacked and drums snared off-beat as musicians flinched away from the armed woman barrelling through them her chui. Akane grabbed the empty cauldron and ran after them.

“Another thief!” yelled the witch actress helplessly. She turned to her partner peeking over the wall and threw up her hands. “What am I supposed to do now?”

The girl blew a kiss to the applauding audience and said, “Smile and wave!”

Akane sprinted in Shampoo’s wake and, as Ranma jumped onto the next float, flung the cauldron down the aisle of startled band members. The second before it collided with the back of her head, Shampoo spun and deflected it with her mace– a loud clash of metal. The cauldron amplified its own heavy clunk when it hit the road, and it rolled with the slight sticky sound of uneven asphalt before it settled where it was deeply dented. Like ants, the musicians circumvented the obstacle as they flowed past the two young women, who stood still in the street.

“Who challenges Shampoo?” Shampoo asked her veiled attacker. Her eyes flicked up and down her opponent, and she smirked. “Stupid girl. Dressed for wedding, headed for funeral.”

Shampoo charged directly toward the mysterious princess, who caught the business end of her chui in both hands with a grunt. Underneath her skirts, the tread of Akane’s sneakers wore as she skidded back on the asphalt. While the parade rolled on around them, the meadow and grotto float growing larger in the background, Shampoo reappraised her target behind the gauzy layers of tulle, which concealed little at close range. 

“Ah,” she said. “Akane.”

The pickup truck hauling the witch’s float honked as it slowly closed in from behind, and with her target cornered, Shampoo reared back her mace. Akane jumped onto the hood of the truck, the driver slammed the brake and the horn, Shampoo’s swing smashed the grill and one headlight, and Akane rolled off the side and ran. She bunched her skirts in her fists, the petticoat flouncing against her calves, and fled for wherever in the world Ranma had gone. Shampoo dislodged her chui from the vehicle and quelled its cursing driver with a look. She started after Akane, who glanced over her shoulder as she reached the cauldron on the ground. Akane pivoted on her heel and hopped, spinning her other leg into a powerful soccer kick against the cauldron to shoot it at Shampoo. It slowed Shampoo only a little as she dodged it, and it continued past her to crack the windshield of the pickup truck, whose driver let out a sob. Akane caught up with the back of the marching band and bowled one, two, three, four bass drums down the road at Shampoo, who batted them aside with crashing swings of her mace: one, two, three…

A purple cloak flew into Shampoo’s face. She tripped on the fourth drum and dropped her chui as she splatted onto the road. The pickup driver took the opportunity to run from his truck with a pen and paper and demand her insurance information. Akane turned to see a fat, ribbed yellow belly behind her. Her gaze traced up a long neck to a cartoonish dragon head with bulging eyes and a lazy tongue. A cylindrical orange arm, stubby next to the oversized body, beckoned her to follow the parade.

“...Ranma?” Akane squinted, unable to make out anything of the person inside. “Is that you in there?”

“Shh!” the dragon said, but its silly head flopped on its air-filled neck with a nod. 

The dragon grabbed the princess by her frilly bell sleeve and ran with her down the street at track-star pace. Akane squeaked as the wide neckline of her dress slipped over her shoulder, and she yanked her arm back to fix her sleeve.

“You’re pulling down my clothes!” she complained. The dragon shushed her again, harshly, and Akane scowled at the bubbly frill running down its back. 

Somebody this rude HAS to be Ranma!

“Costume thief!” growled a man in athletic underwear, icing a bump on his head, as they ran past the dragon balloon.

They crossed in front of the people holding up the stilts of the dragon balloon and dodged around the lion dancers ahead of them. A warrior, a monkey, a dog, and a pheasant startled as a dragon and a princess touched down on the back of their float. Ranma looked over his shoulder as Shampoo pounced onto the dragon float, eyes locked on them beyond the lion dancers’ acrobatics. He, followed by Akane, sprinted around the giant peach balloon nestled in the center of the Momotaro float and hopped onto the roof of the truck hauling it. The woman in the cab looked around at the light thud, but shrugged and kept driving. 

Akane, too, sprung for the roof, but her sneaker caught in her skirts and her knee slammed onto the glossy black metal. A hand hidden in the shapeless arm, separated from her skin by smooth orange polyester, closed around her wrist just long enough to keep her from slipping off. The dragon let go hastily and pointed its limb at the next platform rolling directly in front of them, high up but a jumpable distance from the top of the truck. Akane nodded, but she hesitated as the dragon leapt gracefully to the next float. Didn’t the fingers of that hand wrap easily around her wrist?

The float was already built high from the ground, but its central tower, dressed as a grassy and flower-dappled hillside, extended nearly as high as Cinderella’s castle. Ranma landed on the ring at the base of the tower, and on the other side of it spotted Akane’s back. She was on her hands and knees and seemed to be peering down at the floor. He then noticed there was an open hatch in front of him that led to a basement like a fish tank. Looking down, the light filtering from the lower level’s colored glass walls stained the oak ladder teal. Figures that, in this idiotic parade, a cauldron had real boiling water while a pond was completely empty. 

We can’t hide down there, dummy– the walls are see-through!

Ranma opened the door to the tower instead and tapped Akane’s shoulder.

“Huh? Who are you?” she said, and before Ranma finished being annoyed, he realized it wasn’t Akane but an actress wearing an identical princess dress.

Akane was frozen in indecision on the roof of the truck. If that wasn’t Ranma, then she needed to go find her right away, but maybe that was Ranma, and she just imagined the largeness of that hand. A diagonal meter or so above her, the dragon whipped around and gesticulated wildly and angrily for her to follow with familiarly irritable body language. Akane blinked, snapped herself out of it– who else could it be but her? She prepared to leap, raised herself to a squat, then fell forward on her hands and knees when the truck jolted and veered to the side as Shampoo’s thrown mace took out one of its wheels. The driver braked, and Akane’s head popped up to see the dragon leaning over the growing gap between the two floats, reaching insistently for her. Akane jumped and caught the arms inside the stubby inflated limbs by the elbows, her feet smacking the back of the float’s lower level as she hung from the dragon’s grasp. 

Ranma was strong, but her forearms were not so thick with muscle, and her hands would not so cover Akane’s bicep. The person who was decidedly not Ranma swung Akane up into the air. Instinctively, she screeched and clung desperately onto the dragon, bursting its silly inflatable neck as he caught her against his chest. He because it was a man’s broad chest she was pressed against, a man’s narrow hips her legs were locked around, a man’s muscular arms hugging her, and a man’s face looking somehow as shocked and horrified as she was. Before she could react, he carried her into the tower, kicked the door shut, and dropped her almost roughly. She searched for words as he shed the deflated and ruined dragon costume, revealing a regal full dress military uniform. Akane realized its colors coordinated with the gown she was wearing.

“N-No, I-I’m not supposed to be here,” Akane said as a motor began to whir and the platform they were standing on began to rise slowly. “I need to go find my friend!”

The prince actor startled at the sudden movement, head jerking left and right as he scowled at the floor. He ignored Akane and ran his hand over the walls.

“How do ya turn this thing off?” he muttered under his breath. Akane hastily joined his search and found a rectangular depression with a handle inside.

“Here’s a lever!” she said, and pulled it. A bouquet dropped seemingly from nowhere, thunked onto her head, and bounced into her hands.

“Uh,” said the prince, “did those flowers just thunk? ”

Akane and the prince read the tag hanging by a string from the wrapped stems of the bouquet. Three images accompanied simple one-word instructions. Shake! An arrow pointed both up and down next to a cartoon fist holding a cartoon bouquet. Throw! A stick figure bride stood under an arrow pointing to a bouquet high above her happy-face head. Enjoy! Fireworks replaced the bouquet above the cartoon bride. Akane’s palms began to sweat as she held it at arm’s length.

“It explodes?!” she squawked.

“Just don’t shake it,” said someone next to her.

“Gah!” Akane threw the bouquet upward in surprise, juggling it nervously as it fell back into her hands.

“Be careful with that, stupid!” snapped the young man dressed as a prince.

Akane scowled. “ You came out of nowhere and scared me, whoever you are!”

A mechanical clunk sounded and the hatch above them began to open, spilling daylight onto their heads. The elevator lifted them to the top of the hill and shuddered to a stop. They looked over the edge of the tower when voices called out to them, and saw two actors frowning from below.

“What’s with the understudies?” complained a man in a green leotard and a frog hat.

The woman crossed her arms over frilly bell sleeves. “At least get on with it!”

“Get on with what?” Akane asked.

With an eyeroll and an impatient wave of her hand, the princess answered, “Throw the bouquet…”

“...and kiss!” the frog finished, his hands on his hips. 

“Kiss?!” repeated Ranma and Akane in nervous unison. At that moment, Shampoo finished scaling the float.

“No, you don’t! ” she shouted as she swung her mace heavily into the base of the tower. 

Shampoo ran up the side of the tower while it crumbled toward the two actors, who shrieked and ducked into the safety of the pond level. As the floor under Akane’s feet tilted and careened toward the ground, Akane reached reflexively for the prince next to her, who encircled her waist with his arm and jumped. In the rush of air, Akane’s veil flew back over her tiara, and she screamed and then stopped screaming when the prince caught her legs behind the knees and held her securely. 

They hit the ground running, but she barely felt the impact and barely felt the movement, like he had simply swooped and continued flying like a bird. His head turned to look at her, and something in his eyes begged her to trust him, and something in his face told her that she could. Hadn’t she met a prince with that face somewhere before?

“I know you, don’t I?” she asked. “Or you know me.” His eyes widened.

“Yes!” he said eagerly. “And yes!” 

Akane twisted into his chest and embraced him. A jolt shot through Ranma’s body, leaving it so numb that he was surprised it managed to keep on running. As feeling returned slowly in dizzying tingles, he realized he could still see around Akane’s hair to the parade, the crowds of spectators perforated by stalls, and other things that weren’t simple black asphalt, and that’s the only way he knew he hadn’t fallen flat on his face. 

Do you actually remember, Akane? Are you that happy?

When Akane turned and leaned over his shoulders, she saw what she had feared she would– Shampoo running after them. Behind his back, she shook the bouquet vigorously until, after a hidden snap, it smelled like gunpowder igniting. Then, she threw it. Shampoo, bounding behind them, rolled her eyes at the weak projectile and lazily swiped her weapon expecting petals to fall, but the bouquet of fireworks exploded on impact with her mace. Ranma looked over his shoulder at the sound of whistles and crackling as Akane drew back from his neck. He kicked himself for thinking she’d do something as cute as hug him before he flipped his scowl back to her.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop fighting–”

“Ranma’s missing!” Akane interrupted, her stare piercing. 

Recognition and dismay flared in the boy’s face; as she’d guessed, he knew her. They looked and moved just alike, after all.

“I… I think I know where she is,” he said, turning away to hide his disappointment.

Ranma hopped over the crowd and put Akane down on a third-story fire escape in an alley between an apartment complex and a public office building. Hopefully she wouldn’t try to get down by herself in the thirty seconds he’d be gone.

“Just stay right here, okay?” he said, but when he was halfway onto the railing, she caught his arm.

“Wait a minute,” Akane said. “Who are you?”

Ranma took one hand off the railing to twist toward her. Something possessed him to reply, “I’m your fiancé.”

Akane narrowed her eyes, pulled the bridal veil out of her hair and, flattening the locks it pulled astray, said, “Very funny.”

Ranma swung himself off the fire escape, and she watched him drop with ease to the ground and jog swiftly around the corner. She raised her gaze to the street, where a singed and furious Shampoo continued running through the parade, searching for them on each float and inside each costume. Out of either girl’s sight, Ranma skidded to a stop next to a yatai cart with an emergency pail of water next to its sizzling griddle. He dumped it over his head before ripping apart the snaps on the quickchange costume, which he balled up and shot into a trash can. As a young woman in a green leotard, he ran back into the alley and scuttled up the wall onto the fire escape. Akane felt a vibration in the metal under her feet when Ranma landed on the lower level, and she looked down to see Ranma grin up at her through the grating. With a jump, she caught onto the edge of the third level.

“So,” Ranma said, raising herself up the railing in front of Akane, “same time next year?”

Akane pulled her up by her forearms, helped her onto the balcony even though she didn’t need it, and hit her almost hard enough to knock her right back off.

“Ow!” Ranma complained. She rubbed her head, and with a tear in her eye, asked, “What was that for?”

“You ran out on me!” Akane snapped.

Outraged at the accusation, Ranma’s mouth fell open. “I was tryin’ to get Shampoo away from you!” he said. “But then, like an idiot , you had to go and provoke her again!”

Akane gasped indignantly. “To help you, you ingrate!” 

“I keep telling you to leave her alone!” Ranma snapped. “You should’ve just let me handle it!”

“I didn’t see you handling it!” Akane scoffed. “In fact, I didn’t see you at all! Where in the world were you?!”

“I was right there with you!” Ranma said defensively. 

Akane screwed up her face. “Not last I checked!”

The anger started to dissipate from Ranma’s voice as she insisted, “I had to change a couple times and you didn’t recognize me, but, honest, I was practically right next to you the whole time.” Suddenly looking a little disturbed, she asked, “What, you don’t think I’d actually throw you to the mace-happy shark, do you?”

“No,” Akane scoffed, “I wasn’t thinking that . But if we got separated all day again… well, I don’t know, it was– it was strange, not having you around,” she said awkwardly as she realized it might be kind of weird to admit that she had missed her. “Not that Ryoga wasn’t nice.” 

“Heh.” Ranma grinned. “But you like me better.”

“It’s not a competition,” Akane said civilly. “You’re both my friends.”

“Never lost a competition to him yet,” Ranma gloated.

Akane shook her head disapprovingly and tried not to smile. “Oh, can it," she said. "Let’s go get our bags back.”

—

The wind smoothly blew a blanket of clouds over the night sky and slowly extinguished the light of the stars. A drop of water fell on Ranma’s hairline and rolled over his head with a light caress that made him shiver in his sleep. A second droplet hit his cheek– a third, his wrist. Gentle rain pattered the leaves of the tree above him, a few intrepid drops sneaking through to bounce against his sleeping bag. Ranma ignored them. It felt nice, even, a light massage on his insulated legs, and it sure sounded nice. Then the wind howled, and the bottom fell out of the sky.

The tent’s rain fly flapped, a caged bird, against its stakes in the sudden storm. The downpour quickly soaked through Ranma’s clothes as he got up, cursing, and seeped through the sleeping bag’s water-resistant material more slowly but just as surely. Rain trailed in long diagonal strings of beads under the beam of light that cut, then, through the darkness. 

“Hey, Ranma, hurry and come inside! Where are you?”

Ranma dodged the beam like it was a sword swinging through the air. Akane shoved on her sneakers and stepped outside to search for her. She swept her flashlight again, and suddenly Ranma was right in front of her, soaked to the bone, scowling, and clutching a sopping sleeping bag plastered with wet leaves.

“What are you doing out here, you idiot?” she snapped. “Get in the tent!”

“You took the words right out of my mouth!” Akane retorted.

“I just have to set up the tarp,” Ranma said stubbornly.

Akane’s face scrunched incredulously. “What good will that do? You and your sleeping bag are already drenched. Come on, you’ll freeze.”

She pulled Ranma by the wrist into the tent and dropped the flashlight on the thin blow-up sleeping pad that was laid out across the floor. Akane’s sleeping bag was mussed in the center, and her backpack pinched a corner of the pad by its feet. In the opposite corner, by Akane’s pillow, laid her notebook. She unzipped her pack while Ranma stood hunched, twiddling his thumbs. 

I guess it’s not a big deal. Even Akane wouldn’t make a guy sleep out in this storm, right? It’s just a tent, anyway. 

His lips were pouted with uncertainty as he gave Akane a discreet glance. The flashlight splashed her lap white, illuminating little bears dressed as cupids on her pajama pants, their fuzzy material heavy with rain. The rest of her faded into greyscale, but he could still see even the raindrops glinting off her eyelashes. Her arms crossed over her belly, and she lifted up the bottom of her top.

“Wh-What are you doing?!” Ranma sputtered. Akane paused and looked over her shoulder in innocent surprise.

“What does it look like?” she said impatiently. “You should change into dry clothes, too, or you’ll catch your death.”

I’ll catch a much more painful death if I stay here!

Ranma stammered, “I– I– I– I gotta see a man about a dog!”

Ranma sprung through the tent flap like a flea. A minute later, she cautiously peeked back in the tent. Akane, rubbing her arms over a fresh thermal top, looked up at the sound of the zipper.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Do you need to borrow a pad?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Ranma said, hopping back inside nonchalantly, the crisis averted, and grimacing a little as he realized belatedly what kind of pad she meant. “I, uh, don’t need those. Low body fat, I guess,” he said with a tense chuckle.

So don’t start asking me about my flow, or whatever girls talk about!

“Oh,” Akane said. “I can see that.”

Akane couldn’t help but notice the way the wet silk clung to Ranma’s lean muscles as she reached behind her head and gripped the scruff of her shirt. In a fluid motion, she pulled it roughly over her head and shook her hair with a little grin of relief to be free of the sticking fabric. She caught Akane’s eye as she tossed the damp tunic aside and made quick work of the black tank top underneath.

“If you’re gonna stare, you could at least tip me,” she said, baiting Akane with a raise of her eyebrows.

“I wasn’t staring!” Akane protested, blushing despite herself. She picked up the flashlight. The beam widened and dimmed to a soft glow as Akane twisted the rim of its focusing lens. “I just– I’m waiting for you so I can turn down the light!” 

“S’okay, Akane,” Ranma said coyly as she pulled her belt loose. “You can look if you want. It’s not everyday you get to see a figure like mine, not with that ironing board of yours.”

Akane hurled her backpack at Ranma, and it rammed her into the wall of the tent with enough force to tip the flimsy structure on its side. Akane tumbled forward with a shriek as the stakes outside slipped out of the damp earth, and she landed on top of Ranma’s bare chest. The flashlight thudded, the pages of the notebook fluttered, the sleeping bag slumped to the corner, and the thin air mattress dropped like a featherlight lean-to over Akane’s back. Ranma pushed the backpack off her face and glared at Akane. 

“I said you could look ,” she said.

Akane’s head popped up from where her face was planted in Ranma’s breasts. Her mouth was wide in horror and her eyes were filled with mortified tears.

“It was an accident!” she swore desperately while Ranma shook them both with laughter.

“Who knew you were such a perv, Akane!” she said through her hysterics. 

“I’m s-so sorry-y-y!” Akane squeaked while the tears leaked from her eyes. The jumbled items around them rolled into a salad of things falling on their heads as she scrambled to get out from between Ranma’s legs, her desperate hands slipping on the curved dome of the tent and flinching back when they met Ranma’s skin again.

“Wahahaha! Oh, man, calm down,” Ranma said, grinning and wiping a tear of her own. She grabbed Akane’s upper arms to hold them still as she sat up, her knees bent and ankles still hooked over Akane’s hip joints. No force was necessary, as even Akane’s tears stopped dead in their tracks as soon as Ranma grabbed her, and even the involuntary squeak halted in her throat as soon as she caught how the light from the lost torch danced in Ranma’s laughing eyes. “It’s okay,” she chuckled. “I liked it! Bwaha–”

Ranma’s raucous laugh cut off, his mouth glued open in a smile that fell only slightly in his shock at the look on Akane’s face. Her lips parted with a small intake of breath, and her eyes widened in surprise, but it was only for a split second before she jerked away both her arms and her gaze.

“Quit teasing me, Ranma,” she said curtly.

“Y-Yeah,” Ranma said, “I’m done.”

Whew. For a moment there, I thought she realized I was only half-kidding.

Ranma untangled their legs, briefly surveyed the mess, and with a cautious glance at Akane, added, “Watch your head for a sec.” 

He drew his legs back and rocked against the tilted floor to right the tent. Akane caught her fall with one arm and protected her head with the other as everything slumped to one side. 

“So… the stakes,” Ranma said slowly. “I’ll fix ‘em.”

Akane flipped the air mattress in place, unzipped the sleeping bag into one flat rectangle, and climbed under it like a blanket with her journal and flashlight. She only spared a quick glance behind her when Ranma came back with a fresh coating of rain dripping from her bare breasts.

“Put some clothes on already!” she scoffed. “Don’t you have any sense of modesty?”

Ranma frowned sourly as she changed into a fresh set of underclothes. “Geez, I’m going already. Was I supposed to dress before I went back in the storm?”

“You were sure taking your time before,” Akane muttered. “Exhibitionist.”

Ranma pulled a face, confused more than anything, but didn’t say anything while she finished changing, and Akane resented the tense pause she herself had created. She tried to ignore it, fumbling with her journal, but she felt the pressure of Ranma’s knees tuck in the makeshift duvet around her ribs as she knelt on top of the sleeping bag. 

She asked, “Did I do something to tick you off, Akane?” 

“No,” Akane huffed.

Ranma peered at her face as she turned it away. “Is it about your chest size?”

Akane flushed. “No!”

“Big breasts are overrated, anyway,” Ranma said helpfully.

“I said it’s not about that, so shut up!” Akane blustered.

“Then there is something?”

“No,” Akane said, but it was true she felt weirdly wound up. “I don’t know. Maybe it was that.” She let out her breath, a little relieved to assign a source to her agitation, and looked over her shoulder at the pigtailed girl. “I more than got you back for that, though– sorry you had to get all wet again because of me.”

“Aw, well, you know. You came out lookin’ for me and got soaked, too.” Ranma shrugged and smiled in a funny, lopsided way. “It was a pretty dumb move that I never asked for, but thanks, I guess.”

Akane snorted. “I wouldn’t have had to if you’d come when I called, dummy.”

There was a small empty moment where a defense or an apology might have gone, but Ranma only scratched at her own cheek. She said, “When I touched your arms earlier… I could tell you’re still pretty cold.” 

Akane quietly bent her head, nudging the tip of her nose subtly against her knuckles, as Ranma tactfully omitted that it must have been chilly in her cleavage. Although maybe she didn’t really feel it; Ranma’s skin had been nearly as cold as hers, tepid under her hands and freezing against her red cheeks. She’d had goosebumps, too, but Akane tried to erase the thought of them as soon as it arrived– bringing with it, too vividly, the softness of her breasts and the trace scents of rain and campfire and the sweet musk of skin. 

Thankfully, Ranma was already speaking again, not just leaving her with that observation. “Y’know,” she said, “that sleeping bag won’t do much for ya if you leave it open like that.”

Akane frowned first at the sleeping bag draped over her back, then at the girl scooting off of it. “But it's not big enough to fit both of us when it’s closed,” she said.

“Both of–” Ranma gave a tiny but vigorous shake of her head. “No, no, I’ll be fine without one.”

Akane rolled her eyes. Ranma never seemed to tire of trying to act like such a hero all the time, even over the most ridiculous things. She said coolly, “Okay, well, I’m not zipping it up, whether you get in or not.”

“You… tch!” Ranma braced her hands on her knees and leaned forward, scowling down at Akane. “Don’t be stupid!”

Akane raised herself onto her elbows to match Ranma’s eye level. “You’re the one being stupid!” she said. “We can both be warm- ish , or we can both freeze . Your call!”

She stared firmly at Ranma and let her read the sincerity in her face. Her eyes didn’t waver like Ranma’s did. Ranma studied Akane for a long moment, her lips pouting angrily right below her cute snub nose, and though she knew that she would win the battle of wills, Akane tried not to let any gloating show prematurely on her face. Ranma was cold, and tired, and it was one battle that he would honestly prefer to lose.

I guess it’s okay if we’re both girls. There’s no problem with it, really.

“Let the record show that you insisted,” she mumbled.

Then Ranma crawled quietly under the sleeping bag and laid stiffly on her back, her brows and lips drawn apprehensively tight. Akane slid her pillow across the sleeping pad as she scooted closer to Ranma, whose eyes flicked irritably to their corners.

“I’ve gotta draw the line somewhere,” she said gruffly. “Sleep on half of that pillow all you want, I’m not sharing.”

“Maybe I will,” Akane said. “Half a pillow’s plenty.” 

Half a pillow, a whole pillow– either way, she was too close. The rain amplified the scent of her hair, washed some of the woodsmoke out of it, and he could smell it almost as strong as when she was on top of him with her face on his bare chest. Ranma tightly gripped his hands over his abdomen like he was trying to break his own fingers. He glared at the ceiling of the tent, which shook as it was battered by rain. 

Never mind– there’s absolutely a problem, a huge problem! Even just laying down next to her… Ryoga, if this is how you feel, you’re dead!

Ranma distracted himself by running through the forty-two steps of the Crane on a Rock kata in his mind. Meanwhile Akane laid down on her stomach, her chin resting on the end of the pillow as she reached again for her notebook and flashlight. Ranma turned his head just slightly to watch Akane lay the notebook on the pillow in front of her. Akane angled the flashlight next to her on the ground to where its beam could step up the side of the pillow and illuminate the propped-up journal pages.

Akane said, “Hope you don’t mind. I’ve been trying to read my notes right before I go to sleep.”

“How come?” Ranma asked, cautiously letting himself look at her.

Akane brushed a damp lock of hair back from her temple and flipped the page. “To help my memory,” she said, a bit sheepishly. “First I copy everything on a new page, then I read it over. It’s something I do with my school notes before an exam.”

Akane glanced at Ranma’s owlishly curious expression. She shrugged and said, “It probably won’t work for this, and maybe it’s just a superstitious habit, anyway. But you’ve been working hard to help me, so I want to try my best, too.” Ranma hadn’t jumped in with a joke or sarcastic comment yet, and Akane smiled slightly at her. “Do you think it’s dumb?”

“No,” Ranma said quietly. “I don’t think it’s dumb at all.”

Akane chuckled. “I’m not so sure, myself. I mean, if anyone found this, they’d think I had an obsessive crush or something. Look!” She drew her thumb across the paper edges and let some of them flip through. “Just page after page of, ‘My fiancé’s name is Ranma Saotome.’”

Ranma’s cheeks began to hurt under the strain of a suppressed smile.

“You can laugh,” Akane said. “I know it’s silly.”

Ranma didn’t laugh, and the blow-up sleeping pad complained with a rubbery gurgle as her head rolled over it with a negatory shake. “Maybe it is helping,” she said. “Sometimes you can remember stuff for a couple minutes now.”

“Ha.” 

“Alright, it’s not much,” Ranma conceded, “but at first you barely cracked thirty seconds, so a couple minutes ain’t too bad.” 

Akane huffed derisively, but she appreciated Ranma trying to acknowledge her fruitless efforts. “Thanks for saying that,” she said humbly. 

Her gaze gleamed fondly under a gentle fan of straight eyelashes as she smiled down at Ranma on the floor. Ranma’s braid was trapped underneath her neck, and her bangs curled a little in their dampness. Her cheeks beamed shyly back at Akane from where her flattened smile escaped at the corners. 

She really is cute. How can you not like her, Ryoga?

Akane folded the notebook closed and clicked off the flashlight. Ranma straightened his head and lost his smile as he felt Akane settle into the pillow an elbow’s length away. The dread in his gut felt like he’d eaten a pinecone for lunch. Thunder rumbled outside, and the darkness in the tent seemed to prickle with infinite potential paths for lightning.

If she knew I was just thinking about how cute she is, would she still be okay with this? Is there any way she would let me stay this close, if she knew I was a man on the inside?

“Akane,” Ranma said, his mouth dry, “how would you feel right now if I was a guy?”

“Hm.” Akane yawned. “That would solve all our problems, wouldn’t it?”

Ranma’s mind sprinted through a very long list of their problems and drew an utter blank for what she could possibly have intended. His head flipped toward her. “What’s that mean?”

Akane gave a little shrug that Ranma felt through the shift in the comforter. Her voice grew smaller as she said, “I mean, if you were a boy, then we could just get engaged to each other.”

Ranma could feel the texture of pine needles underneath the tent as his elbow pressed a spot on the thin air mattress flat. He twisted onto his side, propping himself up to lean toward Akane, eyes dilating as they searched for her expression in the dark. It felt like some pinhole vacuum had opened behind his ribs and instantly swallowed all the air in his lungs.

“Wha… what?” he asked, timid syllables puffing out just above a whisper from his gaping mouth.

Akane sunk her cheek a little deeper in the pillow, shrunk herself a little flatter, and offered an explanation with meek embarrassment. “Y-You know… because we both have fiancé problems.”

“Is this just a joke,” Ranma asked, quietly calm like he might spook her, “like when you said I’m boyfriend material?” 

Akane answered hesitantly, “It’s just a joke… like when you said you liked it when I, um, touched you.” 

Akane hoped Ranma couldn’t see her face burning as she watched her with the one eye not buried in her pillow. She placed her fist on the pillow next to her cheek to subtly shield it from Ranma’s view. Ranma gulped.

“I… I was joking, but… I honestly didn’t mind,” he admitted. Everything was so still and staticky and little lightning bolts in the muscle were making his heart beat like crazy. “If it’s just you,” he said, “I don’t mind.”

Akane brightened a little, her courage strengthening as it was rewarded. “Yeah, so, that’s what I meant, too,” she said readily. “If it was just you, but a guy… I wouldn’t mind.”

The corners of Ranma’s mouth fought their way gradually up, and Akane’s face softened with satisfied relief.

“Th-Then, if I was your fiancé– a guy …” Ranma’s eyes swept over the space between them: the air mattress, the sleeping bag, the pillow, the centimeter between their antiparallel forearms.

“If you were my fiancé,” Akane said with flat amusement, “then I’d want you to stop being so stubborn and share the stupid pillow.”

Ranma hung there for a few seconds, then tentatively slid back down onto the sleeping pad. The elbow propping up her body rotated and tucked under her chest as she turned onto her side. Her forearm backflipped in slow motion, and her hand landed palm-up next to Akane’s curled fist. Finally, she rested her head gingerly on the right edge of the pillow. 

They were each perfectly framed its two halves, neither intruding, yet the space between them had shrunk to a millimeter. Akane freed the half of her face smothered in the polyfill and smiled just a little, hidden behind her hand. But Ranma could tell, once he could see both of her limpid eyes. Why’d he ever think he wouldn’t feel anything laying next to her? It must have been for lack of imagination, since he was feeling things he didn’t even know he could feel. Do kidneys have nerve endings? Does a spleen… uh… what is a spleen, anyway? Ranma felt like everything inside him trembled, staring at her there across the pillow. His eyes, the only traitorous squishy thing she could see, trembled, too: a conflict between their desire to look away and their inability to do so. Mercifully, unknowingly, Akane ended civil war by closing her eyes. Ranma closed his, too, and tried to relax.

He unclenched his core first, and that triggered his back to release its tension. He willed his shoulders to loosen, and his arms followed suit. He wiggled his feet, not so much that Akane would feel the movement, and relaxed his legs. Lastly, he let his neck sink his head into the blasted pillow. A long exhale eased through his vented lips with smooth control as he tried not to sense her closeness, her breathing. He at least wouldn’t smell her hair again until his next inhale, and he left his lungs empty for a few still seconds. Then her hand, without perceptible movement, leaned the hair’s breadth to the right, and their skin met at the invisible dividing line.

Ranma’s eyes snapped open. Hers remained shut. Ranma told his chest to untense around the heart beating wildly inside it like a goose held by one foot. Ranma lowered his eyelids again. Her hand relaxed a little, that’s all, and now the middle joint of her pinky was resting lightly against the knuckle of his– that’s all. He just had to move his hand away.

Just move it, just move it a tiny bit, just…

His little finger twitched against hers, then curled that short arc back over his palm: a caress that could’ve been an accident. Maybe it was an accident– wasn’t he trying to move his hand away? He could feel warmth briefly under the superficial chill of her skin. He laid there, his mind silent but for the imagined sound of his pulse. Then, slowly, Akane’s hand tilted barely off the pillow, grazing the beginning of his heart line. Her folded pinky hovered below his, a hummingbird’s weight on the heel of his hand. Ranma’s fingers stretched creakingly open, and her fist crept into his palm. It simply rested there, about the size and shape of a heart; she made no attempt to uncurl it. His hand closed over hers, and he didn’t dare open his eyes. 

This all means a lot more to me than it does to you, Akane, but I’ll do my best to just be the friend you think I am. I won’t think about holding you– darn. I won’t think about it again, okay? I won’t do anything you don’t want me to, I promise. I’ll just warm your hand. 

Ranma tried to breathe like he didn’t care so much, like his heart didn’t feel like a pincushion that could bleed. 

…Ryoga, if this is how you feel, I pity you.

Ranma must have slept, because he didn’t remember the rain letting up or her hand leaving his. But the next thing he knew, the rear of it smacked his side as she rolled over onto her back, her mouth ajar in an ignorant dreamer’s smile. Ranma glared at her forehead, in the middle of the pillow in front of his nose now, and he plucked her limp wrist from his ribs and tossed it back at her. It flopped across her torso. Ranma settled back into the sleeping pad. Then she kneed him in the stomach.

Ranma would’ve yelled at her if she hadn’t knocked the wind out of him. In that second of gasping, she kicked him in the shin, and as he hissed in pain he noticed that she was still asleep. He rolled onto his other side, letting her batter his back instead while she flailed in her dreams. 

Okay, Ryoga, you might live yet.

Ranma rubbed his temple in irritation, and Akane grabbed him in her sleep. She clamped around him in the opening unknowingly left by his arm, and she pulled him closer, her chest against his back, her fist over his racing heart. Her slow breath tickled the downy hairs on the back of Ranma’s neck, and her arm squished between his breasts once before it relaxed again. It draped over him, and her hand fell innocently on his bicep. Ranma’s elbow was frozen up in the air while the heat that bloomed in his chest leeched all the way to the crown of his head and just as far in the opposite direction.

Ryoga, you’re SAUSAGE!!

Chapter Text

Akane swiped blindly for her watch to turn off the alarm. Her hand found nothing as it slid across the cool, bumpy sleeping pad, not even the warm body that should have been there. Akane sat up. Akane’s discarded jacket slipped off Ranma’s shoulders as lifted herself from where she had curled up and rubbed her eyes in the corner of the tent. Akane peeled back the edge of the sleeping pad and rescued her watch from underneath. She pressed a button and it fell silent after a final beep.

“What are you doing over there?” Akane asked Ranma.

“You’re the restless sleeper to end all restless sleepers,” Ranma said resentfully. “I’m lucky I made it through the night without a black eye.”

Akane laughed as she uncorked the sleeping pad’s valve. “Was I kicking you? I’m sorry.” 

Ranma gave her a surly look. She roughly jerked the zipper of Akane’s sleeping bag and wrung the fabric so tightly it threatened to rip as she rolled it.

“I said I’m sorry,” Akane said defensively. “It’s not like it was on purpose, anyway. Why are you so mad?”

“I’m not mad,” Ranma grumbled.

“Tell that to your face.”

Ranma glanced at Akane again, and her expression had cooled slightly. She was more gentle with the sleeping bag, slotting it into the straps on Akane’s hiking pack. “It’s not you I’m mad at,” she said. “I’m just thinking about something Ryoga did. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Oh… okay.” 

Ranma turned away, and Akane bit her lip and stuffed her pillow into a pocket of her pack. 

I should’ve known. The way she defended him, and the way he seemed so sad when he left… it’s not really over between them. Feh. “Couples who fight a lot.” She was thinking about him when she said that, wasn’t she? Well, of course– who else would she be thinking about? They’re engaged, for Pete’s sake!

Ranma, who had already fully dressed during the night, hung her feet out of the tent flap and laced up her boots while Akane laid out a pile of rolled-up clothes for the day. Akane sighed as Ranma zipped the tent closed behind her. It shook a little around her as the rain fly unclipped from the tent poles outside, and she heard the rain fly’s wet flap when Ranma gave it a flick of her wrists. Akane flipped open her notebook and left it open on the ground while she changed out of her pajamas. She kept forgetting what she’d written in that thing, but helped fuel the habit to read it in idle moments, when she happened to see it lying around. Reading seemed like a good distraction that morning when her heart hung low and tender like overripe fruit on the vine, but what she discovered made it splat straight to the ground.

—

Akane kept her nose contemplatively in her journal as they walked through a quiet town at the end of a quiet morning. When she lowered it, Ranma was over her bad mood and absorbed in squinting at the street map and checking the road sign on the corner.

“So, I’m engaged to your cousin.”

“Yeesh, put that thing away,” Ranma said. “I don't wanna have the same conversation a million times.”

“Oh? Don't tell me this lucky number one million.”

“It’s the first today, but all in all? I’ve lost count.”

“Well, suck it up. If it were up to me, I’d remember everything,” Akane said. “Honestly, I really wish I could.” Ranma studied her face as she cast her eyes down at the page and pouted her lips slightly, and he held his breath when she looked up. “I don’t want to put you in the middle, Ranma,” she said apologetically, “but, in your opinion, what kind of person is he?”

Ranma propped a hand on his hip and puffed out his chest with a grin. “Ha! Strong, handsome, and you think I’m a great martial artist? Just wait until you see him in action!” he boasted.

“Alright,” Akane said hesitantly, “but none of that really matters.”

Ranma’s confident grin faltered. “But… you said…”

“I mean,” Akane said, a rosiness playing around her cheeks, “is he a good person? And, you know, reliable? And honorable?”

Like you?

“Oh. I dunno. I guess,” Ranma said. He didn’t look her in the eye. “At least, he tries to do the right thing ‘n’ all.”

Akane laughed sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Ranma, I guess I got a little carried away. I shouldn’t have asked you to gossip about your own cousin with me.”

“S’okay. It’s just, it doesn't matter what I think,” Ranma said.

“Sure it does.”

“Nah, I’m pretty biased. I can’t hate a guy I’ve known my whole life.”

“Let’s calibrate, then,” Akane said. With a playful smile, she asked, “What would you tell me about Uncle Genma?”

Ranma shuddered. “If you were engaged to that dolt, I’d still bring you to China– and leave ya there for your own good.”

Akane laughed. “If anything, your bias leans negative.”

“It’s different, with Ranma,” Ranma said evasively. “You could say we’re so alike, you might as well be askin’ me about myself. ‘Sides, I oughta let you form your own opinions.” Her brow twitched, and she added under her breath, “No doubt you will, anyway.”

“Then, can I meet him?” Akane said. “He’s been staying nearby, right?”

“You actually wanna meet him?” Ranma asked, stunned. This was shockingly new, and Ranma’s heart knocked with rude insistence against his sternum. “Why all the sudden interest? Usually you barely blink when somebody tells ya you’re engaged.”

“Well… I don’t know.” Akane picked at a crumb of lint on her sweater. “On one hand, I don’t like the whole idea of being engaged to someone just because my dad said I am.” 

Ranma waited for the but while Akane stuffed her hand in the pocket of her open jacket and hunched her shoulders into a narrow shrug. Akane’s eyes and chin drew a small circle in the air until her gaze finally landed obliquely on Ranma. 

“But, with these kinds of things… isn’t there sometimes more than meets the eye?” she said.

“Yeah,” Ranma said, measuring the word slowly. “I think, maybe, sometimes, there is.” Akane smiled slightly, satisfied with the answer.

You would know, Ranma. You and Ryoga must be a case like that.

I’d wager there’s more for me, Akane, and I don’t think you completely hate me, either.

“He’ll be at the sento we’re going to,” Ranma said, “so I guess he could keep ya company while you’re waitin’ on me in the bath.”

“Who?”

—

Alright! It’s about time Akane wised up and showed some interest!

In a corner of the public path that smelled of lemongrass soap and a hint of chlorine, Ranma scrubbed his armpits for the fourth time, just in case, and scrutinized himself in the shaving mirror. He cracked a smug smile at his reflection and curled his fists inward at his abs to flex his muscles. 

“Heh. A fine, strapping young man if I do say so myself,” or so he said himself.

“And how!” someone enthusiastically agreed.

“Gah!” Ranma’s neck jerked behind him where a shrunken elderly man stood with a towel between his soft wrinkled belly and knobby knees. “Uh, thanks,” Ranma mumbled, scooping up his toiletries in preparation for a hasty exit.

“Any chance you’d be interested in a bit o’ pocket change?” 

Ranma stopped on the damp tile, and turned toward the old man. Friendly dark eyes, beady under their drooping lids, smiled up at him.

“My niece out in Hiroshima’s had a bit of a run-in with a monster lately,” said the old man. “Thought I’d come and ask if you could help, as I’m sure it’d be no trouble for a strong’un like you.”

“Huh. Tell ya what, gramps,” Ranma said with a confident grin. “I can’t make it, but I’ve got two friends who’d be perfect. You can tell your niece the Tendo Dojo’s sending their best.”

In the changing room, the old man pressed a slip of paper and his final thanks into Ranma’s hands. Ranma stuffed the address into his pocket as he brushed hesitantly through the curtain in the body he was born into. Akane looked small in the lobby, hunched a little over the notebook in her lap, off-center in the frame of the hallway’s flat arch. Ranma took a deep breath as he walked up to her. He cleared his throat, and she raised her eyes curiously.

“You wanted to meet?” he asked.

Akane blinked in surprise, and her head bobbed as she looked between his face and his photo. Ranma smirked with satisfaction.

Told ya I’m good-looking in person.

“I guess I did,” she said. 

Akane’s head turned to the stool beside her, and Ranma took the seat. They were quiet for a moment while she flicked the edge of the page over the pad of her thumb. She wanted badly to examine his face, but his gaze so intensely focused on her eyes that it was like entering a staring contest with the sun.

“This part about burning my hand,” Akane began, her glances flitting between Ranma and her notebook, “I can remember that when I really try.” She lowered her eyes to his hands where they were settled on his knees. “I… I wanted to thank you for that.”

An aborted chuckle puffed through Ranma’s nose. “You already did,” he said.

“Did I? Well…” Akane said, drumming her fingers on her journal. She smiled awkwardly. “I bet there’s probably something else I forgot to thank you for, anyhow.”

Ranma laughed aloud this time. “Boy, is there ever. I’ll put it towards your tab.”

Akane chuckled, too, and stole a few seconds of staring before his grin settled steadily back on her. “What about your tab?” she said. “Is there anything you want to say to me?”

Ranma shrugged and looked away for the first time. “Maybe I’ve got a thing or two. But I’ll wait ‘til you can remember why I’m saying ‘em.”

Uncomfortable quiet began to close in again. “I’m sorry,” Akane said, “I don’t really know how to act around you.”

“Me neither,” Ranma admitted.

“Hm?” Akane’s head turned and her brows furrowed.

Ranma turned soft, thoughtful blue-grey eyes on her. “I guess, with all this stuff goin’ on, I’ve been seein’ you a bit different, is all.” He added quickly, “Not in a bad way.”

Akane blushed down at her lap. “I see,” she said, although she didn’t, really. It startled her when Ranma elbowed her arm lightly.

“But, hey, you should just pretend that I’m the Ranma you know,” he said.

“That’s actually– ha.” Akane’s eyelids fluttered and her smile twitched with the truth of what she was about to say. “That’s actually not so hard to do.”

“I’m glad,” Ranma said with calm sincerity. They smiled at each other in soft relief.

“How come I’ve never met her before this trip?” Akane asked.

Ranma shrugged. “You’d met me, and aside from looks, we’re the exact same person.”

“Then I’m sure you and I will get along, too,” Akane said with a smile.

“You’d say you two get along?” Ranma asked wryly.

“Well…” Akane dragged it out lightheartedly, wobbling her head. “Maybe we butt heads sometimes, but that’s what makes it feel like we’re already family.”

Ranma’s jaw went slack. Akane cringed a bit away from his obvious surprise and the disappearance of his grin, realizing the unintended implication in the statement.

“That’s not what I meant!” she said hastily. “I-I don’t even know you, after all– it’s not like it’s a given that we’ll go along with our dads’ crackpot scheme. I only meant that I can tell Ranma and I will be good friends, and I wouldn’t mind, hypothetically, seeing her at family dinners and such, potentially, in the future, I suppose.”

Shut up, shut up, shut up! I’m probably only making this weirder, and it’s already SO weird!

“...Gotcha.” Ranma slowly ran his hand through his hair, dragging his nails lightly along his scalp. “That was a nice way to put it,” he said. “I think she’d be real happy to hear that.” He chewed his lower lip as a light flush dusted his cheeks. “And I’m maybe… startin’ to think about hypotheticals, too.”

Akane’s stomach performed a clumsy, languid somersault. She took in a sharp breath for bravery and said, “I recently told someone– and I don’t know if it was good advice– that in a situation like this… if one person is willing to try, then maybe the other person should give them a chance.”

Ranma made no movement even to refill his lungs as he watched her bangs cast shadows on her cheeks. Her gaze made it to his nose before she looked back down to the tile floor peeking between their legs. 

“What do you… think of that?” she asked.

“Akane,” he croaked, “we should talk about this when your memory’s back.”

Akane looked up, suddenly fierce, her mouth set and eyes blazing. “I want to know right now. Maybe there’s not much good in telling me, but where’s the harm?”

Ranma pursed his lips. “I-I’ll answer you, but you can’t write down what I say. I never said this before, so I only wantcha to hear it directly from me.”

Akane clicked her pen and closed her notebook without breaking eye contact. She dropped them into her pack and clenched her hands on her thighs.

“Okay,” she said firmly. “Now I’m going to forget whatever you tell me, so you might as well get on with it before I forget what I even asked you, too.”

“Alright, here goes nothing.” Ranma matched her determined stare. “I think I really like you,” he said, “and I wanna give this my best shot.”

Incrementally, Akane’s brow unfurrowed, her eyes softened, and her mouth relaxed. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but who are you?”

The boy ground his jaw before he stood up without another word and walked down the hallway toward the baths. Half a minute later, Ranma came back into the lobby, her hair damp.

“Good news,” she said with a tone like the opposite was true. “I got us a job.”

—

Mrs. Hinamori's face was round and slightly soft with middle age, and as her oval glasses covered the gentle lines around her eyes, she could have passed for much younger if not for the old-fashioned curls pinned into her hair. She answered the door in her apron and blinked down at the two petite girls. 

“You’re the martial artists from the Tendo Dojo?” she said. “I thought you’d be… never mind. Please, come in! Sorry it’s a bit of a mess in here.”

Hangers rattled noisily as the woman quickly pushed rolling clothing racks this way and that across her living room, like a sliding puzzle, as the two girls followed step-by-step behind.

“Woah, what is all this?” Ranma asked as they made their way through the dense jungle of racks packed into the modest house.

Akane brushed her fingers over a rack of garments lined protectively with thin, clear plastic that stuck a bit to her fingers. She frowned; there was something familiar about them. “Don’t tell me,” she said. “Are these costumes from the Fairy Tale Festival?”

“Good eye! I take it you’ve been?” Mrs. Hinamori said brightly. “It seems there was some commotion at this year’s festival, and a lot more garments than usual need repair or replacing.” Her demure hand concealed a little of her smile. “Good news for a seamstress like me.”

“We, um, participated in the parade this year,” Akane said. “Your work is very nice.”

“Amazing, even!” Ranma said, remembering the mechanism inside the frog head.

“Oh, you cheeky girls!” she said with a blush, “It’s just a housewife’s little side hustle. But that brings me to the problem I’ve been having. Take a look.”

With a final, spirited push that rolled the last rack merrily across the floor, Mrs. Hinamori cleared the path from the front door to the center of the room. The wheeled curtain of marching band uniforms fluttered aside to reveal an ogre mask resting on a low table. The seamstress let out a satisfied sigh of effort and invited them with a wave to gather around. Ranma held up the red mask by its sharp cheekbones and noted thin lines of wood glue crossing its deeply arched brow and wrinkled forehead, splitting the stretched nostrils of its bulbous nose, and cracking its protruding horns and fangs. Akane lifted the black hood hanging from it and examined it with a gentle brush of her hand over many lines of fine stitching.

“This mask sure has taken some punishment,” Ranma murmured.

“It’s not just this one,” said Mrs. Hinamori. “The whole set is in similar shape.”

“But I don’t remember seeing this costume at the parade,” Akane said.

“No,” Mrs. Hinamori said sadly. “These ogres smelled a bit musty after a year in storage, so I gave them a fresh wash a few weeks ago. But when I went to take them in from outside, they had been destroyed and soiled.” She dabbed her misty eyes with a handkerchief. “I repaired them each week and rewashed them each Sunday, but the incident only repeated itself! In the end, the festival committee rented costumes elsewhere, and I lost out on a contract.”

“It sounds like some kind of folk tale,” Akane said, “but also more like a vandal than a monster.” 

“No kidding,” Ranma said. “Did you ever think to wash ‘em on a different day?”

“A woman’s laundry schedule is sacred!” the seamstress snapped. Ranma shut his mouth and glanced at Akane, whose bewildered expression indicated that this was news to her as well. “And I’m certain it was a monster,” Mrs. Hinamori continued, “because last Sunday, I finally saw the culprit with my own eyes!”

“Oh!” With twin gasps, Ranma and Akane leaned in to listen closely. 

“Please,” Akane said intently, “don’t leave out any details!”

The seamstress tapped a thoughtful finger to her chin. “I was preparing grilled fish for dinner that night– tilapia if I recall– and I believe the phase of the moon was–”

“Please,” Akane muttered, “leave out some details.”

“Around sunset, a real ogre appeared out of nowhere!” said Mrs. Hinamori. “It looked just like this.” She shook her head over the mask, stroking its face sweetly. “It must have taken the innocent costumes as rival brethren, and slew them!”

“So all we gotta do is wait until sunset and beat the clothespins off this thing!” Ranma said, clapping her fist against her opposite palm.

“Don’t worry, ma’am,” Akane said with a reassuring smile. “Defeating monsters is a martial artist’s duty!”

Mrs. Hinamori dipped her head gratefully. “I leave it to you. The other masks are currently in the back garden. I like to put them over my scarecrows to dry.” She bustled behind a garment rack of leotards with rips and pulled threads and said brightly, “Let me just clear the way for you–”

“You know what?” Ranma said. She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder, toward the front door. “We can go around.”

The utilitarian garden plot was stretched across the backyard and pinned to the ground like a hide under the stakes of the scarecrows. The ogre masks draped over their thick bodies of bare bound straw like execution hoods. They were stiflingly overabundant, five guards for a space that needed only one or two, and a chipmunk that paused along the perimeter fence didn’t dare to chitter before it dashed out of sight. Insects, on the other hand, didn’t fear them, and the leafy vegetables that shivered in the breeze were eaten threadbare by bugs. A neighbor was burning trash, and a haze clouded over the scene, bouncing dying sunlight in thick vapor. Akane and Ranma hid in a bush and watched as the scarecrows grew long, menacing shadows in the setting sun, the wicked white fangs of their masks shining through the haze as ghosts of sinister smiles. Akane shuddered.

“What happened to a good old-fashioned drying rack?” she complained.

“Scared already?” Ranma teased.

Akane huffed and pouted. “I didn’t say that.”

Ranma’s chest swelled as she patted Akane’s shoulder. “S’okay, Akane, I’ll take care of this B-movie bozo, no sweat. You go in and have some more tea to calm your fragile nerves.”

“As if!” Akane scoffed. “If anything, you’re the one who should wait inside.”

Ranma’s face twisted. “How do ya figure that?”

“I’m the one who actually represents the Tendo Dojo,” Akane said haughtily. “You’re just a cling-on using the name.”

“That’s not…” Ranma pressed her lips together as Akane gave her an inquisitive look. “Whatever. You gonna make me submit an application?”

“Are you really interested in joining, Ranma?” Akane asked excitedly. “I’m sure my dad would be thrilled if I recruited you. He might even double my allowance!”

“Hmm!” Ranma’s eyes squinted with mischief. “If there’s that much in it for ya, I’ll join up… after you gimme your portion at dinner tonight.”

Akane gave her a long, hard glare. She said, “Would you settle for half my meat?”

“Make it all your meat and half your rice,” Ranma countered.

“Half my meat and I’ll owe you a favor.”

“No chance!” Ranma crossed her arms and shook her head firmly. “All payment up-front.”

Akane scrunched her nose to one side, then the other as she weighed her next offer. She furrowed her eyebrows seriously and held up three fingers. “How about half my rice, plus three seconds to grab whatever you want off my plate– one pair of chopsticks only?”

“Deal!” Ranma enthused. She grinned fiendishly as she clasped Akane’s hand in pact. “But you’ll regret it.”

Before Akane could answer, movement nearby brought their attention back to the garden. One of the scarecrows rose, towering above the others on long, thick, humanistic legs in hakama. Arms unfolded from the shadows, brandishing a sword whose blade glinted in the haze.

“That’s no ogre– the costume itself is possessed!” Akane whispered, clutching Ranma’s arm in fright. “A g-ghost of some kind! Or a demon!”

Ranma gave Akane a firm little smile and clenched her fist. “I’ll tell ya what it is,” she said. “It’s toast!”

Ranma burst from the bush onto the stake left behind by the scarecrow. As the monster swung its sword, Ranma sprung from the stake and landed a solid kick in the center of its wide, tusked face. The monster dropped backward onto the ground with Ranma on its head, needles of straw shedding from its body.

“She got it!” Akane gasped.

“You’re not so tough,” Ranma said to the monster as Akane ran into the field to meet them. “What kind of ogre are you, anyway?”

Ranma stepped off of the possessed mask to examine it. It was a replica of the one the seamstress had shown them, apart from the crack down the center and goofy bulging eyes.

Akane’s head hung over the masked figure and tilted to one side. “A counterfeit?”

The mask fell apart at the crack and human eyes blinked open behind it. A tall young man with a dark, curly crop of hair bolted upright, the straw tied around him rapidly coming loose and dropping from his kimono, and he clamped an arm around each girl’s waist. To their shock and horror, Ranma and Akane were lifted off their feet and dragged off the field by the ogre-impersonating delinquent. Sweat dampened their temples as he spoke.

“Akane Tendo! Pig-tailed girl!” he said. “It is not safe for you here!”

Ranma elbowed him in the face while Akane kneed him in the stomach, and Tatewaki Kuno accepted the blows stoically but released them both with a closed-mouth wheeze.

“Upperclassman Kuno,” Akane said in feebly polite greeting. Ranma looked ill as Akane patted her shoulder with a sunny smile. “You know what, Ranma? I changed my mind: this one’s all you.”

“No way!” Ranma said. “You’re the dojo representative– you deal with him!”

“Ladies, ladies! You need neither worry nor fight,” said Kuno with a deep baritone chuckle. “After I dispense with the ogre scourge, I, Tatewaki Kuno, shall date with you both!”

His lunge to embrace them once again halted at the simultaneous impact of Ranma’s foot and Akane’s fist with his face.

“The only scourge here is you!” Ranma snapped.

“What in the world are you doing here,” Akane asked, “terrorizing this poor lady’s garden?”

“I must destroy the monsters threatening yon humble crop!” Kuno declared. “I disguise myself amongst their number and strike, yet they reappear each week– as must I, for it is my duty as a martial artist never to rest ere they are slain!”

“Kuno,” Akane said, alarmed, “do you really think these are monsters?”

Ranma scoffed and put it more bluntly. “I knew you were dumb, but are you blind, too?”

“I need not vision,” Kuno replied grandly, “for the very spirit of justice guides my blade!”

“In other words,” Akane said, “that mask didn’t have any eyeholes.”

“Clean out those ears of yours, Kuno, and see if there’s anything rattling in between,” Ranma said. “These are costumes, got it? Cos-tumes. So you’re gonna apologize to the lady inside and pay her back for the business your stupidity cost her.”

“Feh. ‘Twas merely a misstep in the dance of fate.” Kuno sheathed his sword. “I see now my true purpose was this happy reunion with not only the beauteous Akane Tendo but my darling pig-tailed goddess!”

Akane’s eyebrows raised as she looked from Kuno to Ranma. “Sure is a small world,” she said. “How did you two meet?”

“Forget small,” Ranma muttered. “It’s downright claustrophobic.”

“Akane, know you not the epic tale?” Kuno said. Romanticism glazed over his eyes. “In the midst of battle with the cur Ranma Saotome, that cowardly enemy of women, I found myself engulfed by chlorinated tide. Yet a young warrior’s dashing countenance stirred the heart of this merciful siren, who blessed me with the breath of life!”

“Oh, my!” Akane gasped behind her hands.

Ranma jumped two meters into the air to knock her knuckles against Kuno’s head. “Shut up, Kuno, you creep!” she seethed. “I did not give you mouth-to-mouth!”

“Fear not, Akane Tendo!” Kuno cried as manly tears of pain and emotion mixed in his eyes. “I shall honor my equal love with equal affection– and grace you, too, with a tender meeting of lips!”

“He’s lying, Akane!” Ranma’s fist mooshed into Kuno’s puckered face while she insisted, red-faced and frantic, “It’s a lie! A lie, lie, lie, lie, LIE!” She battered Kuno’s swollen cheeks with slaps to emphasize every protestation.

“Right. Well, Kuno’s sick fantasies aside,” Akane said, “I’m confused on the ‘Ranma Saotome, enemy of women’ part. Since, you know, you’re Ranma Saotome, and, um, a woman.”

“O laughing heavenly weaver, whose cruel threads pluck such a name from the highest echelon of women and bestow it also upon the lowest of all men!” Kuno lamented. “I cannot bear to call my beloved by my nemesis’s name!”

“He’s got a grudge against the other Ranma Saotome, the one in your journal,” Ranma said.

“Oh?” Akane slipped her hand into her jacket and removed the small notebook from its inner pocket, but Kuno lifted it out of her hands.

“You wish to exchange diaries?” he said. “I’ll allow it!”

“Hey! Give it here!” Akane said angrily.

“But of course!” Kuno said. He dropped his own diary into Akane’s hands.

“Kuno, quit foolin’ around and hand it over!” Ranma demanded.

Kuno chuckled, and Ranma found himself holding another masculine leatherbound journal identical to the one Akane was chucking at Kuno’s head. “Here you are, my braided beauty,” Kuno said. “I keep a duplicate copy for precisely this situation.”

Ranma ripped it in half. “I don’t want your diary, stupid!” she growled. “Give Akane’s back now!”

“A young flower’s jealousy is such sweet poison nectar,” Kuno mused poetically, a tear in his eye. With a decisive snap of his fingers, he said, “Very well! I will permit you to challenge me. If you defeat me, I shall return the diary of Akane Tendo and go out with you instead!”

“Who’s asking to go out with you?!”

Ranma stomped on the flat of Kuno’s sword before he finished drawing it, and it wiggled like a diving board as Ranma sprung from it to headbutt Kuno’s face with a crack of hard skulls. She scuttled over his collapsed body, discarding fistfuls of useless straw as she searched for the journal in his clothes.

“Pig-tailed girl, our love is yet so young and innocent!” Kuno protested weakly as he came to. “We mustn’t. But if we must– dear Akane, shield your eyes!”

“Shaddup already and get out your wallet,” Ranma said. She offered the notebook to Akane and gripped Kuno’s kimono collar in her other hand. “Time to make amends.”

Cross-legged on the seamstress’s tatami, Kuno’s head bowed forcibly under the weight of Ranma’s foot.

“My girlfriend tells me that I have made trouble for you,” he said, and Ranma rammed his forehead into the floor.

“Nobody here is your girlfriend!” she snapped.

“What a relief that it was only a delinquent, after all,” said Mrs. Hinamori with a smile.

Kuno cleared his throat. “Ahem. I am not a–”

“Oh, yes, you are!” Akane chastised. “And a pest, too!” As she opened the front door, she continued, “You’ve caused enough problems, so why don’t you just go home?” With that, Akane reared back her foot and punted her upperclassman high into the sky.

Mrs. Hinamori said hesitantly, “I’m afraid I can’t offer you much more than train fare and a place to stay for the night…”

“We’ll take it!” Ranma said.

“That’s plenty, ma’am,” Akane said.

The older woman smiled kindly in apology. “I am truly grateful for all your help. Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

“Well, this’ll be a long shot,” Ranma said, “but do ya know anybody with a boat and a lotta time on their hands?”

“You know, come to think of it…” Mrs. Hinamori idly wiped the lenses of her glasses on her apron as her forehead wrinkled thoughtfully. She replaced the glasses on the low bridge of her nose and her eyes gleamed behind the clear lenses. “My husband’s old boss bought a boat when he retired, although he moved rather out of the way, to Fukuoka.”

Ranma and Akane exchanged a hopeful glance. 

“Hey, that’s not out of our way at all,” Ranma said.

The house was small and simple, shaped like a six-cube ice tray under the gray shingles, and thankfully not full to the brim with parade costumes outside of the front sitting room. The girls hovered eagerly in the hallway while Mrs. Hinamori excused herself to flip through a hand-penned phone book and a shoebox of the most recent New Year’s cards. Ranma’s head whipped toward Akane, her eyes shining.

“Akane!” she whispered excitedly. “This could be it!”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Akane whispered back. “We still have to convince him.”

“Hmph.” Ranma crossed her arms and smiled smugly. “That’s the easy part. What lonely old fart could say no to a cute girl like me?”

“Uh…” Akane’s brow twitched, and fine sweat formed above it. “That’s the other thing, though,” she said. “Is it even a good idea to rely on a strange man to take us all the way to a foreign country?”

Ranma snorted. “So you do have some sense of self-preservation; your radar’s just way off.”

“What do you mean?” Akane asked with a frown. Ranma rolled her eyes.

“Stupid. You did that with me, remember?” she scoffed. “And I’m way more of a threat than any old retiree.”

“Oh, phooey.” Akane clucked her tongue. “That was different! You saved me from drowning– and Kuno, too, apparently. Do you meet everyone that way?”

“Nah, it’s a risky way to introduce yourself,” Ranma said bitterly. “Can’t have everybody fallin’ in love with me.”

A flush spilled under Akane’s skin as her mouth fell open. “And just who do you think is in love with you?!”

“Kuno– duh.” Ranma gave her a strange look. “Who did you think I meant?”

Akane’s gaping mouth trembled in the air just before she snapped it closed with a quiet, “No one!” that was eclipsed as Mrs. Hinamori popped back into the doorway.

“Found it!” she chimed. “I even have a phone number for you.”

—

“I only have one spare room, but you girls don’t mind sharing, do you?”

After dinner, Ranma and Akane moved their bags into the spare bedroom about the same size as Akane’s at home. A shaggy piece of fabric lay across the old school desk by the window, along with an antique but well-looked-after sewing machine. The bookshelf featured books of sewing and crochet patterns, outdated textbooks, and decade-old action manga. A class graduation photo and perfect attendance award were framed next to a mounted cassette rack full of punk rock. A granny square throw blanket layered over a duvet decorated the double bed against the opposite wall. 

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Ranma said.

Akane blinked in surprise. “Why would you do that?”

“Better to start there than have you kick me there in your sleep,” Ranma said with a pointed raise of her eyebrows.

Akane huffed. “Come on. You’re exaggerating.”

Ranma interlaced her fingers behind her head and rolled her eyes as she said, “I wish!”

“If you’re holding that over me, then I don’t even wanna hear your whining about how it’s my fault you slept on the floor,” Akane said, crossing her arms. “Maybe I’ll do that, and you can take the bed.”

“Don’t start with that macho attitude of yours,” Ranma said dismissively.

“Macho, am I?” Akane gripped the edge of the lumpy pillow and said, “Tell me, Ranma, are you the pot or the kettle?” She grunted the final word as she swung the pillow. Ranma bowed under it with a low, thin smile and her hands behind her back. Akane cocked an eyebrow and said, “Here’s an idea: why don’t we spar for it?”

Ranma scoffed. “Are you trying to hand it to me?”

Akane adjusted her hold on her sorry excuse for an improvised weapon, stepped into a fighting stance, and smirked. “Not likely!”

She hurled the pillow at Ranma’s face. Ranma wheeled her arm to catch it and toss it fluidly to the ground as she took a step back, escaping Akane’s follow-up kick to her gut. Akane readily advanced, trying to back her against the wall. Ranma leaned left, then right, to dodge one punch and then two. When Akane sprung another kick at her, Ranma caught her ankle with a genuine, contented smile that held Akane longer than the hand around her ankle and arrested her more. It was an aberrant expression to see in a fight, even a friendly one, and it should have scared her to see her opponent so at ease, but Akane found herself wondering why she felt so strangely calm. Off-guard and off-balance, Akane’s arms wobbled while Ranma disappeared behind her with a flap of loose red fabric. Akane’s foot stomped down on the hardwood and she pivoted, elbows in tight, to see Ranma in front of the bed grinning with her hands at the ready. That arrogant smile was a normal expression to see in a fight, especially a friendly one, and Akane’s heart settled back into the usual athletic rhythm. 

“Finally gonna fight back?” Akane taunted.

Ranma cocked her head with a beckoning jerk of the chin and replied, “Get over here and find out!”

Akane lunged forward as Ranma snatched the throw blanket from the bed. With a snap of her wrists and a yank of her arm, she wrapped Akane’s upper body tightly in it and hopped. The mattress springs creaked with a gentle bounce as both girls fell onto the bed. Ranma’s hands landed splayed on the mattress above Akane’s bound shoulders while her legs slid under Akane’s to lock her ankles behind her knees. Ranma’s hips bore down onto Akane’s, immobilizing her, exerting total control over her body, and Akane’s heart tripped over itself again. It was uncomfortable and she liked it, and it was uncomfortable because she liked it, and the intense heat and pressure might have turned the blanket between them to diamond, if the fabric hadn’t been synthetic. With only one part of her body still able to move, Akane tilted her head back, her neck arcing– she lifted her chin to look at Ranma’s face hanging above her.

“I… win,” she was saying, her gloating grin falling into nothing on her exhale. 

Their eyes met like a key turning in a lock, a mechanism somehow both slow and sudden. Ranma’s lips closed, the tip of her tongue flashed between, and they parted again. She bounced out of the position onto her knees at the foot of the bed, then onto her feet in the middle of the room. 

“Sorry!” she blurted.

Akane curled herself upward and elbowed her way out of the mummification of acrylic knit. She was sweating in it, overly warm and itching even in places it didn’t touch. “D-Don’t insult me,” she said. “You won fair and square, so you get the bed.”

“No, I…” Ranma was breathing harder than he should have been and was warm and itching all over. Akane wasn’t looking at him, her face poised in neutrality, chucking the blanket onto the floor by the discarded pillow. Like nothing weird had just happened, and, as far as anybody could see, it didn’t. She looked up when he didn’t finish the sentence, and he shook his head. “Nah. I won, so I get to decide who sleeps where,” he said. “And I’m taking the floor.”

“What?!” Akane exclaimed as Ranma shook out the knit throw. “Those weren’t the terms.”

“You never specified,” Ranma replied, fluffing the abused pillow.

“Geez.” Akane glared at Ranma as they both pulled up their respective covers. “How stubborn can you be?”

Ranma half-smiled for a half-second and said, “I guess that makes me the kettle.”

The one time I’d actually deserve it if she hit me and called me a perv, but instead she’s letting her guard down. It ain’t right– and I’ve gotta tell her the truth.

Chapter Text

“Something wrong?” Akane asked. “You’ve been quiet all morning.”

Ranma’s answer was stiff and mumbled. “I didn’t sleep too well.”

“Serves you right for babying me,” Akane said with a small scoff. “You could have taken the bed.”

Ranma didn’t tell her that while her soft restful breath whispered across the lip of a bedsheet in an otherwise silent room, he’d lain awake contemplating something a lot harder than the unyielding hardwood floor. Curled dry leaves, rolled up like cigars, crunched underfoot. Others, caught in the cracks in the sidewalk, stuck out cat-ear points like tabs in a heavily annotated textbook. Ranma watched the shapes pass underneath his boots, deliberately avoiding Akane’s eyes.

It’s time to admit this has gone too far. Sharing a sleeping bag, putting her in a full mount… I could never– WOULD never– do that stuff as a guy, so why the hell would it be okay when I’m a girl? I’ve been fooling myself, and fooling her.

His stomach twisted as the elevation gain petered out and the parked cars lining the street turned their tires the other way. The asphalt tumbled downhill toward a sprawling park where a pond reflected the bright cloudy sky like a silver coin and the red of a torii gate all but blended into the fall colors. It was the spitting image of the postcard taped to the window of the stationary shop next to photos of it in flowering spring, verdant summer, and the kind of snowy winter that likely didn’t come around too often this far south. The air was cool, but someone was still growing tomatoes in a pot, the itchy smell of their leaves reaching down to the narrow cafe seating tucked underneath the apartment balcony. 

If Dr. Tofu’s right, she’ll forget about all of this as soon as I tell her the truth. Man, I hope he’s right.

“Akane, can you get your journal out?” Ranma asked.

Akane’s hand slipped into the lining of her jacket, warmed with her body heat, and swept across the velvety soft-touch cover of the spiral-bound notebook, smudged slightly dull in spots with the oil of her fingerprints. She pulled it into the crisp air and flipped it open with her thumb, knowing by habit where the relevant entries started but still without a clue what they said. Ranma tuned out the usual routine of shock and disbelief.

When she’d taken it in, Akane said, “So, you wanted to tell me something about… um… my fiancé?” The word felt strange in her mouth.

“Kind of.” Ranma kicked out her leg, scuffing the bottom of her boot across the sidewalk. “Didja write down that you met with him yesterday?” 

Akane tilted a page upright and scanned it. “Yes, I wrote that I was meeting him. Left a spot for notes… but didn’t take any. But,” she added, smiling faintly at a doodled smiley face, “I guess I got a good first impression.”

Ranma almost smiled, too. “Well, you’ll get another chance,” he said. “I’ve got a couple errands to run today, and he’s gonna keep you company.”

“Um, okay, but…” Her brow creased. “What kind of err–”

Ranma clapped her on the shoulder and pointed down the hill. “See that park? He’ll meetcha there. So write that down and keep your nose in that book so you don’t forget where you’re going, alright? Later!”

Before she could argue, Ranma was gone. He hopped over the building next to them, leaping over the roof in a well-practiced blur, and landed one street over. He dashed back around the corner just long enough to peek down the street, where to his relief Akane was writing in her journal and starting down the hill again with a shake of her head.

Meeting in the sento.

:)

Meeting in the park.

Another chance– that was a good thing, right? Just like it was good if she’d gotten along with him the day before. Ranma had her own life, her own relationship with its own set of problems, and she wasn’t trying to confuse her and certainly not to flirt with her or anything Akane might have imagined. She only wanted to reunite Akane with the fiance she’d forgotten. Still, Akane headed downhill toward the bowing maples and the shining pond with a mix of anticipation and dread, obligated by a promise that felt like it was made by someone else. 

Ranma sprinted to the cafe, whose customers turned with a start at the violent jangle of the bell as a beautiful but ragged girl burst through its door, her braid whiplashing over the shoulder of her red silk jacket. Ranma gave a quick, mortified glance at the bell before passing the barista a sheepish, breathless grin in exchange for a to-go cup of hot water. In the bathroom, he rested it on the lip of the sink, dunking his head under the tap instead. The hot water fogged up his nose with thick air and the queasy metallic smell of old pipes, and once the magic took effect, Ranma stood up taller than before and pressed his palm against the mirror, taking a steadying breath. As he emerged from the bathroom with warm water trickling down the back of his shirt, his eyes fell on a vase on one of the tables. He hesitated, looked around. Then, he nicked a single stem.

The whorl on Ranma’s thumb turned red over the leaky slit of the to-go cup, sealing the hot water splashing inside as he flitted over the rooftops, but his attention was focused on the rose in his other hand. Two beats of his heart stomped with impatient nerves as he looked down at the crimson petals, halfway through their languid stretch open. 

Let me have just one last good first impression. 

“Ranma?” Akane said, more of an exclamation of surprise than a greeting. 

After all, the person bouncing from the rooftops into the park as easily as a rubber ball was out of earshot, and she realized as soon as the name left her mouth that this wasn’t her friend. Akane glanced at her notebook, and she knew without seeing his face that he must be the supposed fiancé she was meeting, this cousin of Ranma’s, because the resemblance even from a distance was uncanny. The man moved just like her, wore his hair the same way, and even wore the same clothes. The baggy pants, the red silk, the boots that were still loose with two pairs of thick socks– it dawned on Akane that those ill-fitting men’s clothes must have been his all along. 

Ranma… you don’t really wear men’s clothes, do you? You wear things like that golf dress, and have some whole girly side I know nothing–

Akane didn’t let herself finish the thought, physically rejecting the bizarre wave of disappointment with a vigorous shake of her head. She was getting close to the figure with his back to her, and she approached cautiously, taking care not to step on the crunchy leaves, her eyes on the back cloaked in red silk, the thin black braid running between muscular shoulder blades. A paper cup and a heavy pack rested on the bench behind him while he himself stood, his head bowed over something she couldn’t see. Akane tucked herself behind a tree and scanned the journal pages again.

I hope he’s just like her. I hope I love him. Maybe I’m just confused because they’re so similar and I’m only getting these weird feelings because, deep down, I’m remembering him when I look at her… like with the burn. 

Akane’s spine rolled against the bark as she took a peek, her heart galloping, light and erratic. He finally lifted his head, and hope surged as her breath caught. He was handsome– she was so relieved that she thought so– but that feeling only lasted until he called out someone else’s name, one that shot through her tentative optimism like a bullet through a bubble. The journal nearly slipped from her grasp.

“Shampoo!” Ranma yelped, swinging the rose behind his back as the Amazon girl dropped seemingly from the sky, flying with momentum on wheels hot from skating down the steep hill. She was smiling, her open body language empty of threat, but the shimmer of her lavender hair in the sun was enough to wind Akane’s chest tight. The longboard under her flats rolled speeding away into the bushes as she hopped off eagerly and embraced Ranma.

“Airen!” she cooed, melting against his chest. “Now we finish our date!”

“Uh– uh– uh– uh–” Ranma stammered. 

Akane’s trepidation boiled acidic in her gut at the sight of them together. The knowledge of betrayal, the detached logic of it, seemed insufficient, but the anger came anyway, seeping from the lining of stomach where she didn’t remember she had stored it. Ranma’s eyes darted around the park while he awkwardly pried Shampoo’s arms from around his neck. He was just distracted enough to miss Akane swiveling back behind the oak tree, where she furiously wrote in her journal:

HAVING AN AFFAIR WITH SHAMPOO!!!

Shampoo felt a stem pressed between Ranma’s hand and her bicep, and when her face was dislodged from Ranma’s neck, she gasped at the lovely flower.

“For me?” she asked elatedly.

“Sure, who else?” Ranma said, sweating. 

Shampoo held the moist velvety petals to her lips and closed her eyes as she indulgently inhaled the rose’s aroma. Ranma frantically cut his hand across his throat in case Akane could see him, in case she was stupid enough to still be in the park yet not so stupid that she forgot to go there in the first place. Akane, underlining the words “affair” and “Shampoo” for a third time, missed the message. 

Ranma’s hand jumped innocently into his hair as Shampoo opened her eyes and said with a smile, “Shampoo has a gift for you, too!”

“Oh, yeah?” Ranma said distractedly, searching the park for a way to distract her. “That’s real nice, Shampoo.” 

His gaze fell back onto her face, then to her cleavage where the clasp was undone on her dress, then to the bottle of herbal shampoo in her hand with bold numbers on the label: 911. Ranma’s eyes strained against their sockets, and he gasped, but she yanked the bottle out of his reach and giggled.

“Gimme that!” Ranma said. 

He lunged at her, and Shampoo jumped from the grass onto the back of the bench and tugged down the lid below one of her alluring upturned eyes with the soft pad of a slender, manicured finger. She blew a raspberry and kicked off the back of the bench, knocking it backward to trip Ranma as he jumped toward her again. His pack tumbled with noisy clinks of carabiners and the styrofoam cup went flying. Ranma landed kneeling on the ground with his shin throbbing from its collision against the bench and his back stinging from the splash of hot water.

“Come and get it!” Shampoo challenged behind him, slotting the narrow bottle back between her cleavage. Ranma grit his teeth and prayed that Akane was long gone.

“You think I’ll give up that easy?” he scoffed as he hopped onto his feet and over the bench to grab Shampoo around her waist. “Believe it or not, I’m pretty familiar with the female body! Now I’m gonna take that–”

Shampoo clapped her hands over her chest and screeched. Ranma, too, made a sound of panic as his hands flailed away from her body.

“Waah! I’m sorry!” he exclaimed. “I’m sorry!”

Shampoo held her qipao closed and glared at him reproachfully over her shoulder. Akane’s even dirtier look went unnoticed from behind the tree. A blot of wet black ink was clenched in her fist and staining her fingernails while the plastic halves of her snapped pen fragmented further under her shoes.

“Alright,” Ranma said, furrowing his brows and slapping his fist against his palm. “I’ll tell you what. Give me the shampoo and I’ll do whatever you want.”

Shampoo’s frown sprung into an ecstatic smile. “Really?” she said hopefully.

“You have my word,” Ranma said. “As long as you don’t ask me to marry you or kill Akane.”

Shampoo eyebrows twitched thoughtfully as she crossed her arms, the undone clasp on her dress forgotten. “Okay,” she said after a moment, her eyes glinting slyly. She pointed as if to sic a dog and commanded, “Kill female Ranma!”

Ranma blanched. “Huh?” 

“You kill female Ranma,” Shampoo reiterated simply. “I give you shampoo number 911. Deal?”

“Deal!” Ranma said, and that word seemed to overstuff Akane’s body with dense cotton that deafened her through her ear canals, suffocated her through her chest cavity, and made everything fuzzy on her crawling skin and in her confused mind. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“But make it ‘almost kill,’” Ranma said, his voice coming slow and muffled through the fibers clogging Akane’s ears.

“I don’t understand,” Shampoo said, and Akane had to agree, “but deal!”

Shampoo didn’t flinch, but Ranma jolted as a battle aura erupted behind them with the dangerously zealous heat of an overgassed bonfire. 

“Akane,” Shampoo said icily.

“Akane?!” Ranma blurted.

“Are you out of your mind?!” she shouted. Her voice shook, and she had no idea where the other Ranma was right now, had no way to warn her that she was in danger. Shampoo, Ranma could take, but if he was helping that murder-happy menace…

I have to stop him.

“Get outta here, you idiot!” Ranma yelled, balling one fist and shooing her with a broad sweep of his other hand.

“No!” Akane’s hands gripped the elegant curve of a wrought iron armrest as she swung the bench at her fiancé. “You filthy, lying, coward… I don’t care who you are– I won’t let you hurt Ranma!” she shouted.

Ranma dodged wide of the bench with a scowl as Akane reared it back again and moved in closer. “You–”

“Stupid girl!” Shampoo snarled, twirling her chui. “Don’t interfere!”

“Stop it, Shampoo!” Ranma shouted. 

He darted between the two girls, snaking his forearm underneath the handle of Shampoo’s mace to fling it into the pond. The heavy splash, and frantic flapping of the fins of the displaced koi before they fell back into the water, was eclipsed by a crack as the wooden slats of the bench smashed over his shoulders. The metal armrest clipped his face the moment, and Its jagged wooden teeth, as uneven as a pan flute, jabbed his torso and tore at threads of his changsham. When it came to Akane’s anger, Ranma would have thought he’d seen it all, but when the broken half of the bench fell to the ground between them, pure hatred squinted in her eyes, curled her lips into a sneer, and made every other fight between them look like civilized debate.

“Stop!” Ranma loudly repeated. “Let me explain–”

“Oh, I’ll let you explain–” Akane grunted, heaving a large landscaping stone above her head– “when you’re in a full-body cast!”

“You don’t under–”

She launched the smoothed granite at him with a hyah, and Ranma clamped his arm around Shampoo’s shoulders to force her down with him as he ducked.

“Yah!” he exclaimed. “Watch out, Shampoo!”

Akane’s mouth fell open briefly before it became a grimace of bared teeth. “I understand perfectly!” she said hotly. “You’re in cahoots with her!”

“Yes!” Shampoo declared happily, hugging Ranma’s arm. “Very much in cahoots!”

“You… swine!” Akane cried, grabbing Ranma’s backpack, and it crashed into his nose as he pushed Shampoo out of the way. “I can’t believe I tried to convince myself this was a good thing! How could I be engaged to someone like you?”

“So much for a good first impression,” Ranma muttered under the rough fabric of his pack.

“So happy!” Shampoo sighed dreamily. “Ai ren , you protect me!”

“I’ve had enough protecting you!” Ranma said indignantly to the girl nuzzling his back, holding the backpack at arm’s length to stop Akane’s attempt to batter him with it again. “Get out of the way and let me handle Akane!”

Akane ripped the cast-iron skillet from her backpack with righteous fury. “So you’ll handle me, will you?” she scoffed, bending her knees into a fighting stance. “It’s not going to be that easy!”

Shampoo was watching, waiting for the proof he’d promised her. Akane was determined to interfere, looking like she wanted to kill him. The jumbled, fragmented plans running through Ranma’s mind suddenly sharpened and clicked together, and he smirked at Akane. She wouldn’t remember any of this.

“That’s just the way I like it,” he said, and the way his eyes glinted, amused and crafty, sent a cold chill down to Akane’s stomach. He grinned at Shampoo and said, “Wait here. You’ll get my end of the deal in just a minute.”

Akane’s eyes narrowed menacingly, and she said, “Sorry, but you’re not making good on it anytime soon.” 

Ranma’s smirk set firmly on his face as he lowered his center of gravity and raised his arms in a show of defense while Akane charged him. Shampoo whistled and inspected her nails while her smooth bare leg shot out between them, catching Akane’s ankles. With a short shriek, Akane pitched forward, but Ranma lunged and caught her before she hit the ground. 

“I said stay out of it, Shampoo!” he snapped.

“Don’t you touch me!” Akane snarled. She grabbed onto Ranma’s bicep to simultaneously hoist herself up and drive her knee into his gut.

“Fine,” Shampoo said petulantly, folding her arms with an exaggerated sigh. “No help!”

“Thank you,” Ranma wheezed while Akane kicked him in the thigh and clapped her left hand above her right on the skillet’s handle, readying it for a heavy blow. Ranma grit his teeth, closed his eyes, and braced.

The frying pan slammed into him with a clang that echoed in his skull as he flew across the park. He splatted spread-eagle against a life-size stone relief of da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man– his limbs splayed and every muscle stunned with the shock . Akane plunged her hand into the bush behind her and flung Shampoo’s longboard onto the paved path that ambled toward the sculpture. She leapt onto the board and wove through the snaking curves to launch herself at Ranma like a guided missile. Ranma blinked just in time to see her coming. 

“GYAH!” he yelped, dropping from the relief right before Akane’s skillet broke a hole through the face etched on the stone. 

This is nostalgic, Akane, he thought, but can’t say I missed it!

“It’s bad enough you’re a womanizing cheat,” she spat, “but to betray your own family? How can you even call yourself a man?”

He swiveled in his crouch on the grass as she sprung off from the sculpture, and staggered upright only a moment before her foot landed with a thud against his chest, knocking him back onto the ground.

“Don’t even bother with the shampoo!” Akane said. Holding the skillet high, she jumped, and she brought it down on his head as her knees landed painfully on his ribs. “I’d never marry such a lowlife!”

Ranma bared his teeth in a humorless grin and met her glare with determination. Time to really sell it. But as he looked up at her, her cheeks flushed, eyes blazing, and threads of short hair sticking with sweat to her forehead, it was harder than he thought to say these words again. She was fighting like she meant it, to protect the half of him she liked, and he was about to make her hate the other half even more. But she’d forget about this, and if his plan worked, then soon she’d remember all of him. 

Sorry 'bout this, Akane, but it’ll hurt me more than it hurts you. You’ll make sure of it.

He said, slowly and deliberately, “And who said I wanted to marry a thick-waisted, flat-chested tomboy… who can’t even cook her way out of a cup of instant noodles?”

That calculated look told Akane that he had deliberately chosen the insults that would sting the most. Not only that, he studied her reaction expectantly like he wanted her to recognize them, to send a message that he wasn’t really a stranger but someone she had trusted once. Akane suppressed a shudder as the realization crept over her skin as violating as a clammy hand slipping under her blouse. She hesitated, but anger razed down her right arm, too raw and immediate to question.

Ranma watched the rage in her eyes quell into blankness like the head of a match dying into a smoky nub of black. Then they reignited, and the skillet bashed against his face. 

“How dare you, you creep?!” Akane screamed.

“What’s wrong?” Ranma taunted. “Did I hit a nerve?”

Tears pricked the corners of Akane’s eyes as she punted him into the sky, the words “I hate you!” ripping from her chest. Ranma tucked into a flip in the air to slow his momentum and landed not too far from her on a grassy knoll. 

“That’s what I thought!” he yelled, goading her further. “How’s a slow, weak chick like you gonna stop me from getting to your precious Ranma?”

“And why isn’t she precious to you?” Akane retorted.

Akane kicked the skateboard into her hand and threw it at him, an emotional rather than strategic projectile that he broke with one fist and a yawn. 

“She trusts you!” she yelled, her voice cracking. “You ingrate, she’s taking me to China for you!”

She wrapped her arms instead around a heavy stone planter full of marigolds whose heads of golden yellow cooling into deep orange nodded eagerly as she hefted them to chest height. The marigolds hurtled toward him like sunny cannonballs as Ranma took it full force, letting the planter and his bones crack each other. Akane closed the distance and followed it up with another bash from the frying pan that bowled him further up the hill. 

“Do you even care what Shampoo has put her through?!” she shouted on the downswing.

Akane dashed after him as he tumbled along the grass, and when he sat up halfway, coughing up potting soil, her heel squashed his right hand. 

“Ow!” Ranma complained.

Akane grabbed the front of his shirt in her left hand while her right wielded the skillet threateningly. She had to end this fast– she couldn’t forget what she was doing. “Had enough?” 

“You tell me,” Ranma said wryly, looking up at her through one puffy eye. “Do I look like I’ve had enough?” 

The handle of the skillet jabbed into the base of his neck. Her tennis shoe slammed down on his knee.

“Yowch! Okay– okay!” Ranma sucked in his teeth. “That’s probably enough!”

“Why are you doing this?” Akane demanded. “Why don’t you run off with Shampoo and leave me and Ranma alone?”

“Gee,” Ranma said. He rubbed the pounding tendon on his neck. “Figures your short-term memory starts breaking records just to beat the snot out of me.”

“I can’t let myself forget,” Akane said firmly. “Not when someone I care about could get hurt.”

“Ranma means that much to you?” Ranma asked, a grin pressing sorely against his swollen cheeks. 

Akane’s mouth fell open in disgust, and she slapped him hard as if to wipe the pleased expression off his face. “You’re sick,” she spat, throwing him back onto the ground, a wrinkly lump on his chest where his shirt remembered her tight grasp. “Hmph! I don’t know why I even bothered,” she said as she turned to walk away. “I expected more from another Saotome, but Ranma’s ten times the martial artist you are.”

The young man on the ground behind her had the nerve to chuckle. Irked, she tightened her grip on the pan handle and whirled around, but there was nothing but torn bermudagrass. A finger poked her shoulder from behind.

“You sure about that?” Ranma said with a cocky raise of his eyebrows.

Akane’s skillet slammed into his ribs and batted him deep into the park. He didn’t even try to block it– he let it land like every other hit, like this wasn’t a real fight at all. Akane’s eyes widened.

Was he… toying with me?

Her stomach dropped. Her hand was trembling, and she tightened her grip on the skillet handle .

This wasn’t a fight. It was a distraction. Oh, no– 

Her lungs began to claw at her chest in panicked breaths, and her head whipped around, scanning the trees, the paths, the benches of the park.

I need to find Ranma!

Ranma landed against a bronze koi arched toward the sky and spitting water from its oblong fishy lips. It wobbled on its pedestal as Ranma splashed into the shallow pond surrounding it, the shy fish speckled with scales in the autumnal palette scattering. A lilypad slipped from his head as he sat up and tightened his belt blindly, lights popping behind his eyes, then inspected his injuries in a small pocket mirror. He looked terrible.

“Alright!” he said, wiping at the blood dripping from one nostril. “Even got me back in girl-mode: A-plus job, Akane! Now if you’ll just stay out of the way while I–”

An innocent gust of wind blew through the park, even the light breeze enough to tilt the off-kilter bronze koi precariously behind him. Ranma didn’t hear it tip until the thick metal base scraped across the pedestal, and he turned his head too late.

CLANG.

The pain cleaved through his skull and zapped out his senses, like a monitor turning off with a sizzle of static.

—

A sting. Ranma’s eyelids twitched. Something stung, but it went away. His head hurt, and any thoughts inside were obscured in darkness and dense fog. He didn’t recall yet that he had a head, actually, or had a body to wake– it may have been simply the world that was aching. He slowly realized he was somewhere unknown, dry and warm and not dead, and the last part was perhaps especially surprising. Then a few firm strokes on a sore spot on his cheek brought him back to himself, and he blinked his eyes open. Akane’s fingers, blurrily close to his left eye, jumped away and let her worried face hanging above him come into focus. 

“Ranma!” she gasped. “You’re awake!”

Ranma gingerly touched the plaster on his cheek and realized it was one of many, feeling the tightness of bandages far and wide across his skin as he began to move. They partially concealed his blush as he realized his head was resting in Akane’s lap, and he hastily tried to sit up, but she pressed gently against his shoulders.

“Don’t move yet,” Akane instructed. Out of view, Ranma heard the contents of the first aid kit shift, and her hands came back with a cotton ball wet with antiseptic. She looked back down with a frown and said, “You’re badly injured.”

“I’m fine,” Ranma said, scrambling up onto the smooth flat pleather cushion. “Just looks bad.” He swung his legs, stretched across the seat, to the floor and saw the first aid kit and notebook open on the table in front of them while their packs occupied the bench across. His heart sank as the train jolted over an uneven spot on the track. They weren’t in the park anymore, and he’d lost his best chance to bring Akane’s memory back.

“It doesn’t look bad,” Akane said, dabbing the cotton ball on a cut on his temple. She dropped the tweezers and cotton ball on the table and, with another wispy shuffle of thin paper in the first kit, selected a small butterfly plaster. She held it up to Ranma’s face and her voice began to waver as she said, “It looks like you’re almost… almost…”

“Almost dead?” Ranma supplied dryly. 

Akane’s hands froze. Her eyes began to shimmer as they slid from his temple to his face, and her lower lip trembled. “I was so worried!” she whimpered, and the butterfly bandage wrinkled in her hand as she threw her arms around Ranma’s shoulders. The sudden contact was warm and grounding but undeserved, and his body wanted to relax but locked up instead. For one long second, he didn’t move at all, his palms in the air like a criminal. Then he awkwardly lowered to the dimpled pleather of the train seat. He sighed.

Akane, you’re an idiot, but you’re making it pretty hard for me to be mad at you right now.

“C’mon, gimme some credit,” he said, his voice low and rough as Akane sniffled over his shoulder. “It’ll take a lot more’n that to wipe me out.”

“What–” Akane sniffed, wiped her nose, and drew away. “What happened? Who did this to you?”

Ranma gave her a pained smile, flattened between two tense lips. Her round, credulous eyes were glassy with tears, and he didn’t have the heart to tell her it was her.

“I did it to myself,” he said.

Akane’s face twisted, anger burning over her concern. “I don’t buy that for a second, Ranma!” she said heatedly. “Why are you lying to me?”

Ranma’s brows lowered defensively over his eyes. “It’s true! More or less.” He dropped his gaze briefly and looked back at her. “I picked a fight with a lunatic and let ‘em beat me up,” he said. “I was tryna trick Shampoo into handing over a bottle of formula 911.”

“A-Are you serious?” Akane choked out, pressing the tips of her fingers to her temples.

Ranma nodded slowly and mumbled, “You… weren’t supposed to see.”

“You dope! That was your mysterious errand?” Akane cried. She flicked a bruise on Ranma’s ribs, and he covered it protectively with tears in his eyes. “Don’t go off and pull something stupid behind my back!”

“It wasn’t stupid!” Ranma retorted. “It would’ve worked!”

“You were out cold, dummy!” Akane replied angrily. “If Shampoo found you before I did, she could’ve really finished you off!”

“She wishes!” Ranma scoffed. “I had it under control. In fact, if you hadn’t butted in, I’d have gotten that shampoo and we’d be headed home right now!”

“Don’t you see that it’s not worth it?” Akane said, her ire balling into frustration. She swallowed. “Ranma… I don’t know how to tell you this, but your cousin isn’t the person you think he is. He betrayed both of us, so you shouldn’t put yourself in danger to help him.”

Ranma’s mouth dried as Akane turned her sad eyes up to his face. “Wh-What are you talking about?” he asked carefully. 

How much does she remember of that villain act? At least forget the mean things I said!

Akane said seriously, “He’s two-timing me… with Shampoo.”

“Oh!” Ranma sighed in relief. “That.”

Akane’s eyes widened incredulously. “You knew?” she demanded.

“No!” Ranma said, waving his hands wildly. “I mean, sorta, but you’ve got it all wrong.”

Akane showed him her journal and jabbed her finger at the page. “I underlined it three times, Ranma! I must have been pretty darn sure!”

“Sheesh, not only that, but you wrote it big enough to see from space,” Ranma said grimly. “But listen, he’s not that kind of guy.”

Akane bit her lip and shook her head slowly. “I know I can’t convince you because I don’t even remember myself, but I have a really bad feeling. I think he’s got everyone fooled, and I don’t trust him at all,” she said. “To be honest, I have no desire to meet him ever again.” 

Ranma sighed and ran a hand over his hair, wincing as he brushed a bump on his scalp. Then he suddenly slammed his hands on the table and looked wildly between the train window and Akane.

“Wait a second!” he said, alarmed. “Are we headed home right now? Where’s this train going?”

Akane huffed. “To Hakata,” she said. “I’m getting that shampoo so I don’t forget what a creep he really is.” She clenched her fist in determination and finished, “Then I’ll go back and tell everyone that as far as I’m concerned, our engagement never happened!”

Ranma slumped back on the train seat and sighed up at the strip lights on the narrow ceiling. 

Dammit, Akane, you already did. That was, what, the day before we left? Sheesh. It feels like so long ago, I almost forgot, too.

Akane’s warm touch came through the bandages wrapped where her shoe had smashed his hand, and his head lolled across the seat to see her leaning in with a small smile.

“Um, I hope that we can still see each other, though,” Akane said. She lifted her hand from his, looked away, and shyly brushed at the hair above her ear. “I’d really like it if we could stay close.”

“Stay close. Yeah,” Ranma said. He swallowed, blinked a few times, and added, “I really want that, too.” 

Akane beamed. Streaks of sunlight filtered through the cloudy train window and bounced into a halo that glowed around her hair, but her chocolate brown eyes shone with something even warmer and more beautiful. Ranma smiled back weakly.

“Are you feeling okay?” Akane asked, her smile waning slightly. She patted her lap lightly as she said, “You can lie back down if you want.”

“Heh. That’s alright,” Ranma said with a grin. “Though, gotta say, those thick thighs o’ yours are pretty comfor–” 

Akane smacked him in the face with the first aid kit. “Clearly you’re feeling better, so forget I even offered,” she said, curling toward the window. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to take a nap of my own.”

“Well, uh, in that case…” Ranma scratched along the edge of a band-aid on his chin. “I guess I could return the favor.”

Akane looked between his face and his lap. “Don’t you have bruises on your thighs?” she asked.

Ranma shrugged slightly. “My shoulder’s alright,” he said. “Wanna rest on my shoulder?”

“Okay.” Akane scooted closer to him with a smile. “Thanks,” she said quietly before she leaned against him. Ranma leaned into the seat, his shirt sticking uncomfortably between his skin and the pleather, and drew a slow, silent breath.

I changed my mind. I’ll take another beating, plus all the humiliation, if it means you remember that things can be like this.

—

Akane had been awake for a while but left her head on Ranma’s shoulder, looking on with her at the city map in her lap, until the train hissed to a stop. It wasn’t really that comfortable and her neck was getting a crick, but she didn’t want to give up the warm, solid feeling of their arms pressed together through the thick jacket she wished she’d had the foresight to remove. Ranma folded the map and nudged Akane.

“Time to go,” she said, and she stuffed the city map in her pocket and scooped the first aid kit into her pack.

Akane tucked the notebook into the lining pocket of her jacket. She scooted behind Ranma through the car, trying not to knock any shoulders with her thick backpack in a narrow hallway. As she put the pack on by the door, her thumb ran along her sleeve and felt that it was damp in patches where Ranma’s shirt hadn’t had the chance to dry. Ranma, a step in front of Akane on the platform, turned to look up at her and extended a small hand for the drop from the door. Her shirt clung to her arm here and there, a mirror image of the damp spots on Akane’s jacket, like matching tattoos. Akane smiled at the gesture she’d expect from someone much taller, even if it was just another way for Ranma to call her clumsy. Ranma’s hand went slack for a moment after they walked over the bumpy yellow caution line, then closed around Akane’s again when she didn’t let go. She glanced back, quickly and only through the corner of her eye, but Akane caught the smile on her face.

“Don’t disappear again,” Akane said.

“I’ll try not to.”

“Ranma!” Akane warned.

Ranma stuck out her tongue. “Okay, I won’t.”

“That’s more like it.”

Ranma gave her a small apologetic smile and said, “Sorry for makin’ you worry.” She lightly squeezed Akane’s hand.

“Good. You ought to be sorry,” Akane sniffed. “No more ridiculous secret stunts!”

“I’ll try!” Ranma replied blithely, and Akane sighed.

They navigated around a few parents popping open collapsible strollers, an expansive group of huddled schoolkids around their age wearing matching dark blue sweaters and striped ties, and all the people voluntarily but unintentionally uniformed in black puffer jackets swimming through the broad sidewalk of cement tiles, checkered in shades of grey, outside the station. They were in the center of Fukuoka surrounded by tall hotels and office buildings with small square windows punched out of dense, impassive plaster exteriors. The sun was hidden somewhere behind all the concrete. As they crossed the river into the ward to the west, the sidewalks narrowed and the facades became more colorful and irregular with red and yellow brick and pipes and air-conditioning units that jutted unpredictably from their surfaces. They passed through the park around the old castle ruins, and around the stone walls the grass was dreary and dehydrated and most of the short trees posed nude with their dark twisted branches. 

Near the marina, the city-crampedness of bicycles tucked into crannies behind vending machines breathed out into beautiful, recently powerwashed homes of white and tan with car ports yawning in front gardens the size of the average apartment’s living room. It was dark and had been for about an hour, with many yellow lights behind curtains and between shutters, and with the smell of grilled fish floating in the air. Ranma inhaled it resentfully.

“Since this old guy couldn’t be bothered to meet us closer to the station,” he said, “he better at least buy us dinner when we get there.”

“We’re already planning to ask for a gigantic favor,” Akane reminded her. “Don’t you think China might be a little more out of his way?”

“Doesn’t have to be a favor,” Ranma said. “He’s gotta have some martial artist grandkid I can challenge for a ride.”

Akane snorted. “Not everyone comes from a martial arts family, Ranma.”

“Well, heck, it’s a whole club, right? Somebody’s got to.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Akane said optimistically. “Or maybe we could persuade him if we asked nicely. I mean, he lives on a boat and comes to this boating club every day, so he must really enjoy it.”

“Yeah!” Ranma said. “Can’t underestimate the love of the game.”

Maritime signal pennants hung in alphabetical order between the beams across the ceiling. Thin cone pendant lights hung above the small bar in the corner of the room where the bartender wiped an already dust-free glass to hide from the argument that had broken out among the patrons sitting on well-worn leather stools. Two old men disagreed over how many parts of gin went into some cocktail, and the third insisted it didn’t take gin at all but vermouth. The fourth stool was empty except for the impression of a wide, flat butt that had moved to the chair across from Ranma. The table’s wooden slats, teak stained dark, matched the flooring, which extended past the large windows to a deck that overlooked the yacht harbor. Akane could see it through small fuzzy portholes from the lights mounted out there, but otherwise the windows simply reflected the faces of the two young women and the old man with a large mole above his brow and a laurel wreath of silver hair around his squarish bald head.

“China?” Mr. Tsuda repeated in his quiet, stringy voice. “Oh, gee. You couldn’t even get me out of the harbor, not for a million yen!”

“Uh, really?” Ranma said with a wince. “Ain’t this your, uh, lifestyle? I thought you’d be more adventurous.”

“Ha!” the old man wheezed. “Looking for the spry, adventurous sailor of sixty-seven, are you? Well, darlin’, you’re about five years too late!” Ice clinked in his rocks glass as he took a sip of something stiff and amber. “Oh, yes, I thought I wanted this life, but let me tell you gals something– adventure is a load of barnacles .” 

“Barnacles, eh?” Akane repeated, unimpressed.

“Plus slipped discs, mold allergies, and fiberglass splinters. Ask anyone,” Mr. Tsuda said, nodding to his friends clutching each other's collars at the bar. “You could say most of the fellas here are in the same boat. Wa ha ha!”

“And you don’t know anyone who knows martial arts?” Ranma asked again dejectedly.

“Nope,” Mr. Tsuda chuckled. “Not my cat, not my dentist, not even my autopilot– and that smarmy bastard thinks he knows everything.”

“Sir, there has to be some way we can make it worth your while," Akane said as Ranma slumped forward onto her elbows. “We don’t have any money to speak of, but we can do any job you need!”

“Need?” Mr. Tsuda squinted his already narrow, puffy eyes and scratched a liver spot on his head. “Sorry, missy, but I don’t need much these days… outside of a new hobby! Ba ha ha.”

“Come on, gramps!” Ranma said, pushing herself off the table with a determined scowl. “Quit joking around and tell us straight. What’ll it take to getcha out on the water?”

The old man shook his head.  and swept his hand toward the cranky patrons at the bar and the quiet ones giving the others dirty looks over a go board. “To tell the truth, I’d get rid of the darn thing and buy an apartment if it weren’t for this club. A retiree needs somewhere to socialize.”

“Wait a second,” Akane said, lifting her cheek from her hand. She touched the other girl’s arm, and as their eyes met, the spark in Akane’s jumpstarted the one in Ranma’s. “Ranma, do you still have–”

Ranma’s head jerked front again to grin eagerly at the retired man. “Would you do it for somethin’ equal to two million yen?”

Mr. Tsuda frowned and dabbed at a patch of shine on his bald spot. “T-Two million yen? Now, little miss, that’s a lot of moolah to offer somebody with no cartilage left in his knees.”

“And it comes with a barnacle-free hobby!” Akane chimed in.

Ranma glanced around and murmured conspiratorially, “Not to mention a way nicer club than this.”

“Right– one with heated towel racks!” Akane said, patting the table excitedly. “And– and– and puffy leather armchairs!”

“And a whole bunch of new geezers to argue with!” Ranma added.

“What do you say, sir?” Akane said with a smile. “Once last hurrah, and then you take up golf?”

—

Mr. Tsuda whistled over the Tochikawa club fee voucher while he led the girls out to the dock. Ranma practically bounced after him, hopping beside the old man’s shoulder like a sparrow. 

“Alright, gramps!” she cheered. “We can really leave right away?”

“We’d better,” he replied. “Before I come to my senses.” 

“China, here we come!” Ranma whooped, and she spun in midair with an elated grin. “Hurry up, Akane!”

Ranma grabbed her wrist and tugged her to one of many small white yachts bobbing in the marina. Ranma’s small hands slipped around Akane’s waist and lifted her with a twirl, practically tossing her onto the boat like luggage that squealed in surprise. Wide-eyed, Akane rested her hands on the side of the boat to watch Ranma whip the mooring lines like double-dutch jumpropes to free them from the dock while Mr. Tsuda stomped up the gangway. Ranma hummed an improvised tune as the cleat hitches came undone and she hopped onto the yacht herself.

Mr. Tsuda leaned over the side of the boat and spat into the bay. “Take that, saltwater!” he said smugly, lowering himself into the seat at the bridge with a grunt. “Soon it’ll be cucumber water for me. In a real rocks glass– not clear plastic pretending to be glass!”

The atlas’s cover was ringed with water and coffee stains, and the pages stuck together five at a time as the old man flipped through them. He muttered to himself over the controls, plugging coordinates into the autohelm, and waved the two young women down to the lower deck like shooing squirrels from his porch. 

“Go on and make yourselves at home. Bow cabin’s yours,” he said. “Rest as well as you can. Sailing school’s in session starting tomorrow, and we’ll take lookout shifts next sundown!”

“Thank you!” Akane said with a wave before she followed Ranma who had already dashed down the steps.

The old man harrumphed, donned his reading glasses and squinted at the console with theatrical disdain. “Finally,” he grumbled to himself, “I’ll be able to retire from my retirement.”

The reflective strip on the final stair flashed silver in Akane’s eyes as Ranma found the switch to light the warm, smooth oak interior of the yacht that meanwhile purred to life with the turn of a key on her upper deck. It swung out from the dock with a sudden swaying movement before her eyes adjusted to the light, and Akane stumbled into Ranma’s arms. 

“What’s the matter?” Ranma said, her eyes still sparkling above that crazed grin. “Forgot your sea legs?”

Akane harrumphed and brushed her off. “Have you considered maybe I’m dizzy from you spinning me around?”

“Aw, lighten up,” Ranma said. “Scoring a cushy ride like this is a major win!”

She jumped onto a couch with shallow cream cushions and a short chaise that ran along the back of the small kitchenette by the stairs. Ranma reached under the seat and swung out a coffee table, then kicked her feet up on it and stretched out with her hands behind her head as her toothy grin calmed into a satisfied smile.

“It won’t be long now,” she said. “So you can count yourself cured!”

Akane blew air from her nose as she smiled.

I can’t say I feel like anything is wrong with me, but I’m happy that you’re happy.

She knelt on the rough navy rug under the coffee table and pressed open the cabinets across from the couch, looking to store her bag.

“The good news is, there’s plenty of food in here,” she said to Ranma. “The bad news is, it’s all spam and canned tuna.”

Ranma shrugged. “Eh, that’s the diet of an old bachelor for ya. Toss me a can or two and I’ll make some sandwiches.”

Akane blindly threw two rectangular tins of spam over her shoulder before she turned with a sly smile to watch Ranma dive to nab one (“Hup!”) twist to kick the other, and catch the second one (“Hup, hup!”) as she landed in a squat right in front of Akane.

She grinned at Akane and rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Too easy.”

They ate slices of spam squished between white bread as the boat lolled out of Hakata Bay and into the strait, where the East China Sea washed across the small islands off of Kyushu toward the Sea of Japan. As a knot in her stomach grew and the last bites of her sandwich became harder to swallow, Akane put it down and looked solemnly at the girl chewing next to her.

“This won’t be goodbye, right, Ranma?” she said.

Ranma’s jaw paused, and she turned to Akane with her eyebrows raised and her lashes batting curiously. She gulped down the food in her mouth and grinned, bright and reassuring in its confidence.

“Far from it!” she said. “I live real close– I’ll be bugging ya every single day.”

“Really?” Akane asked, a happy laugh bubbling up as she said it.

“Really ,” Ranma said emphatically, a chuckle of her own scoffing through her teeth. “Swear, you won’t have a chance to miss me.”

Akane brushed her teeth and changed into her pajamas in the cramped water closet that really was just a closet while Ranma spat her toothpaste into the kitchen sink across from it. Akane ignored the door behind the stairs with a cheesy wheel-shaped sign reading “Captain’s Quarters” and slid open the second cabin under the bow. She revealed a room with the footprint of a futon and the ceiling clearance of a rice cooker– a twin mattress, slotted on top of another storage cabinet, filled the entire thing.

Akane felt a tense presence behind her and half-smiled at Ranma’s sweaty grimace. “Look on the bright side,” she said. “There’s no floor for me to kick you onto.”

“I’ll take the couch,” Ranma muttered. “I get claustrophobic.”

“Oh? Since when?”

Ranma ignored the question and laid down on the couch, then promptly rolled off of it as an overzealous wave rocked the small craft. She quickly sprung from the middle of the floor back to the couch with a sheepish glance at Akane.

“Yes, I saw that,” Akane said, crossing her arms. “Now, do you want to tell me what your problem is?” 

“Whaddaya mean?” Ranma asked shiftily.

“I mean, do I smell bad?” Akane lifted her pajama top to her nose and sniffed. She flipped open palms at Ranma and frowned. “Or did I…” She chewed her lip and looked at her feet, wringing the bottom of her top in her hands. “Did I do something that made you uncomfortable?” 

Ranma sat up, sideways on the couch. Her lips curled into a downturned pout, and she folded her hands in her lap. “No,” she admitted meekly. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Then, why have you been so weird about sharing a bed?” Akane sat on the newly freed space on the couch behind Ranma’s back. “I don’t think I’m imagining it.”

Behind slumped shoulders, Ranma said quietly, “Because… it would be wrong.”

Akane’s heart beat like a dull hammer on a church bell, with a deep hollow ring that shivered through her. She sat stunned while Ranma gulped and chanced a glimpse over her shoulder at Akane’s blank face. 

It’s you who might be uncomfortable. What’ll you think, Akane, when you find out I’m not the person you think I am?

She didn’t look angry– she didn’t even look confused– but Ranma knew she deserved more of an explanation than he could give her. His fingers curled in the loose fabric of his pants.

“I can’t tell you the reason why,” Ranma said. She turned a little more to peek apprehensively at Akane again. “So, even though I know it’s kinda a lot to ask, can’t you just– just trust me on this one?”

Akane blinked a few times as her brows drew together, and she smiled sadly, a pout lifting gently upward. “I do trust you,” she said, more like a plea than she intended. “But you can tell me anything. Whatever it is… it doesn’t have to affect our friendship.”

Ranma’s eyes crashed shut even as a bittersweet smile pressed through the tension in her face. He tried to relax his forehead as he rotated his feet onto the floor and squinted at Akane. 

“I hope you’re right about that,” he said gruffly. “I promise I’ll tell you… soon. When we get to China. There’s a lot of stuff I wanna tell you, once you get your memories back.”

“...Okay.” 

Akane and Ranma held each other’s gaze while the small dry bubble rocked in the vast dark sea. In the heavy atmosphere, Akane’s arms felt momentarily weightless. Some gravity wanted them to wrap themselves around Ranma, but some doubt tethered them to the cream-colored cushions. It took some other, earthly force– the pirouette of the planet on its axis, the dance of wind and water– to bring her arm to touch Ranma with the swell of another wave. 

Their eyes broke apart when their shoulders knocked together, sliding on the couch, and Ranma reluctantly scooted away as the light in the cabin flickered almost imperceptibly. Akane dismissed the idea of hugging her, and several crazier things, and her hand hovered above Ranma’s for a second before she thought better of that, too.

“Okay,” she repeated. “Goodnight, Ranma.”

“Goodnight, Akane.”

Ranma’s finger waited on the light switch while Akane crawled onto the twin bed. She hesitated with her hand on the sliding door, and Ranma gave her one last smile before it all went dark. Akane closed herself in the cabin, curled on her side, and hugged her pillow. The water washing outside of the cabin pressed gently against her ears. Her chest rose and fell, slow now, matching the rhythm of the waves.

I think I know what your reason is, Ranma, but I don’t think it’s so wrong.

Chapter Text

Ranma dropped himself onto the couch again, his back hitting the warm place where Akane had sat, his hands falling over his face, and one foot planting itself on the floor. He thought about the way she reached for him but drew away, and he sighed as loudly as he dared without risking her hearing it.

Musta made her think I’ve got some contagious disease or something. But I guess that’s for the best.

He rested as well as he could. A tinny alarm went off twice an hour in the cabin under the stairs, and between naps, the old man wearily plodded from one deck to another to check their surroundings. Ranma slowly learned to sleep through it but still spooked awake every so often at a peculiar smell drifting on the sea, a motion of the waves like falling through the earth, or some other unknown sensation that prickled that intrinsic anxiety, that fear deeper and older than humanity. The human rolled over, annoyed with the mammal of himself, and ignored it until a second survival instinct rumbled in his stomach. Ranma lifted his head and looked at the cabinet across from the couch.

Crouching to open it, he said under his breath, “Guess I’ll go for tuna.”

With a twist of his hand, he caught the round tin spinning on his forefinger and brought it to the kitchenette. As the can cranked open with a grating metal screech, something tickled against Ranma’s leg. His leg twitched, sprung into the air, and he froze with his knee against his chest, balancing on the toes of his opposite foot.

“Wh-What was that?” he squeaked.

Shuddering, Ranma rubbed his leg and lowered it, soothing himself with a sheepish chuckle. He must have imagined the tickling thing. After all, there was no way there was a–

A weight landed on the counter in front of him with a soft thump, and two citrine almond eyes flashed in the dark. Ranma’s neck snapped up, and he met their yellow gaze. A sharp breath zipped through his nose and brought with it the smell of fur.

“Eeeeeyaaah!”

Ranma jolted in terror, the liquid in the tuna can sloshing into his face as he flailed backward, and his shrill scream pierced through the silence.

Akane hit her head on the low ceiling of the cabin and she groaned, rubbed the bump with one hand and fumbled for the door handle with the other. She flung open the sliding door as the captain’s quarters opened simultaneously across from her, Mr. Tsuda drawing a robe around his striped nightshirt with deep wrinkles in his forehead. A figure in the dark tore chaotically through the interior of the yacht, smacking into and bouncing off of every surface.

“Now what the devil–?” the old man grumbled as he flicked on the light. His exhausted squinting expression broke into a soft laugh and he said, “Lookathat– Tiger’s come out!”

A tabby cat with a round, surly-looking face was latched onto Ranma’s front, his claws stuck fast in her shirt around the shoulders and belt. Rendered incapable of rational thought, she shrieked and ran as blindly as when the boat was dark, tears spurting from her eyes.

“He’s a skittish one,” Mr. Tsuda said, “but seems he’s taken a liking to you, missy!” 

“ This is him taking a liking?!” Akane exclaimed as the frightened creature scratched Ranma, struggling to climb up her torso. 

Ranma’s yowl reached eardrum-bursting decibels, and her head hit the ceiling when she leapt into the air. Akane nearly lost her balance as her arms, reaching for fur, scooped nothing. 

“Ranma, I’ll get him if you’ll just–” Akane scrambled after her as she careened around the edge of the room, wailing and unintentionally kicking each of the couch cushions into Akane’s face. “For Pete’s sake, Ranma,” Akane cried, barring a protective arm against the plush onslaught, “hold still! ”

Except for the lingering tremors in her body, Ranma finally froze mid-step when Tiger experimentally licked a streak of tuna water from her face.

“Finally!” Akane huffed. “Come on, kitty…”

She put one arm around Tiger and slipped her finger under his paw pads, coaxing him to retract his claws from the changshan’s fabric. He released Ranma with a grouchy mrrow , and she handed him to his owner. She sighed and peered at Ranma’s bowed head.

“Are you okay?” she asked gently.

“Meeeyoow…”

Akane turned around to smile at the cat tucked into the old man’s chest. “Heh. Were you scared, too, Tiger?”

“That, er, wasn’t him,” Mr. Tsuda said.

Ranma folded forward, lowering her fists on the ground and walked on all fours with her back arched unnaturally, creeping closer on her curled knuckles. Tiger’s hackles raised and the old man struggled to keep hold of him.

“Tiger’s a rescue!” he said to Akane, almost scolding her. “He doesn’t get on well with other cats!”

“But Ranma’s a human being!” Akane said, her mouth agape.

“Does she know that?” Mr. Tsuda asked pointedly.

“Myyoorrrooww!”

A wavering, threatening growl whined in the back of Tiger’s throat, and an equal animalistic sound emanated from Ranma before she became very still and raised one fist, her wrist bending it into an approximation of a paw. Akane’s eyes widened, and sweat ran down her temple.

“R-Ranma?” Akane called uncertainly. Ranma didn’t respond. She didn’t even blink, and, her eyes trained on Tiger, she hissed. Akane gulped.

Is this… the Cat Fist? It’s real? I thought she was messing with me!

“She can’t control herself like this!” Akane said worriedly. Ranma’s haunches wiggled, and Akane shoved the old man and his yowling cat out of the way just before she pounced. “Get out of here!” she shouted.

“Come on, Tiger!” Mr. Tsuda said nervously. “You promised me no more turf wars!”

The captain and his cat ran up the stairs while Akane hurriedly clicked on a laser pointer before Ranma sprinted after them. “Ranma, look!” she said, waving the pen. “What’s this?”

Ranma paused, crouched on the ground. Successfully distracted, her head ticked left and right on her neck, watching the bright red dot on the floor with keen interest. Akane let out a relieved breath. 

“That’s right!” she said encouragingly. “Don’t think about that old tabby upstairs. Catch the pretty light instead!”

Ranma jumped lightly on the dot, then lifted her hand to see that it had disappeared. Akane giggled as her smile turned into a pout. Ranma brightened when the dot reappeared on the couch, and she pounced playfully onto it, scowling when she again failed to catch her prey. Akane pressed the button again, pointing it at a different spot on the floor, and that time Ranma did not hesitate. 

A nasty, ripping, scraping sound quaked the boat as Ranma’s qi claws sliced through the floorboards, thin skins of wood peeling away in ribbons, and the sea began to leak through, slowly cracking the vessel apart. 

“Oh… feathers!” Akane whimpered, and then she yelled. “We’re going down!”

“What?” Mr. Tsuda said, popping a frown through the hatch to the upper deck. His eyes bulged at the water rapidly drowning the rug. “Oh, feathers!”

Ranma hopped onto the coffee table and batted at the shallow pool from above, licked her hand, and hacked with an expression of disgust. The purring motor of the yacht went silent as the hull creaked, loudly, deeply, sickly, like pneumonic lungs under a stethoscope. Akane threw their packs up the stairs and turned desperately to her friend, calling, “Ranma, come here!”

Ranma’s eyes fixed on her– she crouched. Akane squeaked in fear with barely time to brace herself before Ranma gleefully launched herself from the coffee table toward the stairs. Her breath caught and she toppled backward on the step when Ranma rammed against her chest, but she found herself holding a harmless, purring girl in her arms. Akane allowed herself one stunned exhale of relief as she shook off her surprise and gratefully carried Ranma up to the top deck, where the old man was covering a cat carrier with a pink paw-print pattern blanket. Her pajamas were as protective as rice paper around a summer roll; the wind swallowed her in punishing cold. Akane shivered, and shivered again, imagining the bite of the water.

“We’ll head for that island there,” Mr. Tsuda said, pointing into the abyssal night. 

Akane’s first despairing thought was that there was nothing out there, but then she squinted, and she could make it out, kind of, as an ashy splotch in inky black– evidence of a landmass in the absence of stars. Ranma sniffed the blanket over the cat carrier with a suspicious expression while Akane tightened a personal flotation device over her own ribs as snug as it would go. 

“Okay, Ranma, your turn,” Akane said, forcing her voice to be calm. 

She crouched beside Ranma, hooked one arm around her waist, and tried to put the life jacket over her head with trembling hands. Ranma meowed in protest and thrashed against it, tucking her chin to her chest and shaking her head out of the neck hole.

The old man looked up from capping off an inflatable life raft and frowned in concern at the dangerous way the bright white bulkhead light flickered. “Time to go, miss!” he said.

“G-Go without me!” Akane said. She interrupted Mr. Tsuda’s protest. “Please! We’ll be fine, but I have to help Ranma!” 

The light flickered again, came back on more slowly, and there was a reluctant shuffle and splash as the raft hit the water. Ranma still struggled in Akane’s arms, hissing.

“This is an emergency, dummy!” Akane snapped. “Wear the stupid life vest!”

Ranma growled as Akane tried to force it over her head again, and she cut the offensive thing in half with her qi claws. Akane gasped. Shreds of the foam trapped inside the flotation device dropped to the deck while the wind and frustration whipped at the teardrops in her eyes. She stared, numb, as Ranma gave her wrist a dainty lick and ran it over her windblown bangs. She squinted at Akane, meeting her eyes with a smug feline smirk. Akane threw the ruined life vest at her feet.

“Fine, if you’re going to be so annoying –” she cried, her voice cracking– “then I’ll just have to rescue you!”

Akane wrapped both her arms around Ranma from behind. Her legs came up, tucked, as Akane lifted her against her own life vest, anchoring her against her chest. Ranma twisted uncertainly in her arms but didn’t fight her.

“Mrr?”

Ranma turned her neck, eyeing Akane curiously. Her brow was furrowed and her mouth was set in determination. She stepped onto the side of the sinking yacht as the lights on it fizzled out, finally dead, and everything under the sky was black. The moon, the stars, and the chill, chill, chill in the black, black, black. They could be in outer space, if it wasn’t for the spray on the wind and the sound of crashing waves and the faint heat of Ranma’s body under her arms. The abyss sucked away Akane’s anger, leaving a timid trembling gratitude, and she hugged Ranma tighter. Her breath puffed and puffed, and her hyperventilation bounced back in her face, off of the crook of Ranma’s neck.

“I can do this,” Akane whispered to herself. “I have to do this.” She held her breath; she commanded it to behave. “Don’t worry, Ranma,” she said, her voice loud and shaking and determined, "I'll save us!”

The yacht swayed, almost ready to tip, and the tread of Akane’s running shoes fought to keep a grip on the slick smooth fiberglass. Ranma mewed and nuzzled their foreheads together. Akane nodded, sniffed up her tears, and jumped.

“ Myow! ”

When they plummeted toward the water, Ranma's eyes widened, and her limbs flailed, and her claws of energy tore wildly at the sea. If Akane hadn’t been locked onto her so tightly, she would have let go in shock as Ranma cut through the waves that peeled as easily as the floorboards and rapidly propelled them toward the shore. Akane couldn’t even scream. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out, just wind and disbelief. She couldn’t process it, whether Ranma was swimming or flying, but in record time, the two young women tumbled together onto the shore of the distant dark island, more or less completely dry. 

Akane lay on her back, stunned, in the mix of sand and gravel that poked her legs and skull while the cushioning foam of her vest prevented Ranma’s weight from driving her torso into the pebbles. She took a deep breath, and the salt in the air chafed her lungs, but the burn of drowning was absent. She couldn't see or smell much besides Ranma’s hair, but that was enough for the moment. Then Ranma wriggled, and she released her stiff arms mechanically, then let them fall open to the ground like a marionette with severed strings. She hazarded a blink of her eyes– they still worked, it seemed. Ranma’s face blocked out the last patch of stars not covered by clouds and trees, and hanging over Akane with a cheery smile, she meowed and bopped her nose with a gentle paw.

“Okay,” Akane said. “I give.” She gathered herself to a sitting position and faced Ranma, on all fours beside her. “You really don’t need a life vest.”

Ranma groomed herself, sampled some local grass, and scratched a tree into ribbons while Akane built a campfire on the beach. It crackled to life, and Akane sat down with a sigh. Ranma scampered over to her and nudged her way under Akane’s arm to crawl into her lap. Akane hesitantly placed her hand on Ranma’s hair, and Ranma pressed her head into Akane’s palm enthusiastically. Akane gave her a few gentle strokes and, despite the strangeness of the situation, felt herself calming. She slowly smiled in amusement.

“This is so weird,” she said. “It’s like if P-chan was a person.” Ranma purred louder, eyes closed in feline bliss.

Through the light grey smoke, an oar waved in the air as the life raft washed up on the shore. “Thank goodness you made it safely!” called the old man.

“Grandfather Tsuda!” Akane greeted, relieved. Then, her face dropping in horror, she squeaked, “I am so sorry about your boat!”

Mr. Tsuda laughed. “Ah, well! It was insured, and I hated the thing, anyway. Let’s say you saved me the trouble of selling it.”

She started to stand to help him unload the two backpacks and radio still in the raft, but when a concerned meow came from the pet carrier as he dropped it onto shore, Akane had to clamp her arms around a wriggling Ranma, who began to hiss and spit.

“Uh-oh. I think we’d better keep our distance,” Akane said apologetically, half-carrying, half-dragging Ranma away.

“Alright, but meet back here at sunup,” said the old man. “I radioed the coast guard.”

Akane, hauling Ranma in one arm and Ranma’s pack in the other, trudged a safe distance inland, away from Tiger. Once Ranma stopped hissing over her shoulder, Akane let her go and rummaged through the pack for a flashlight.

“Can you… hold this?” Akane asked, genuinely unsure. 

Ranma immediately batted the flashlight out of Akane’s hand and jumped when the beam splashed on the ground. She dropped onto the grass to sniff the flashlight, then rolled onto her side and swatted playfully at the beam.

Akane narrowed her eyes, sighing in exasperation. “Right.”

She set up the tent clumsily in the strobing dark as the torch spun erratically on the ground, but eventually it stood erect and stable. Having left Ranma’s sleeping bag with Mr. Tsuda, she unzipped her own again and called softly into the darkness outside the tent.

“Here, kitty, kitty!”

Ranma sprung eagerly through the tent flap. While Akane drew the zipper around the tent flap, she stalked once around the perimeter, inspecting her new surroundings, and when Akane slipped under the sleeping bag, Ranma curled up on the pillow.

“No, Ranma!” Akane groaned. “You can’t have the whole pillow!”

“Maow!” Ranma complained as Akane nudged her aside with an elbow, quickly snatching the pillow from under her belly and holding it above her head. Ranma pawed at it curiously, eyes glinting, until the sound of Akane’s free hand patting the sleeping bag caught her attention.

“Um, I’m sorry, Ranma, but we’re gonna have to share,” Akane said with a sigh as she lifted the cover invitingly. “I know you said we shouldn’t, but I’m not making you sleep in the cold.” 

Ranma nestled against Akane’s side, purring contentedly. A sudden quiet settled over them, broken only by Ranma’s rhythmic purring and whistles of sea breezes against the tent. Akane felt anxious despite the newfound calm, like there was something she was forgetting. Moonlight seeped softly through the netting on the tent, diffusing shadows onto the walls. Her eyes traced the interwoven black and silver as she monitored each breath she took, slowly melting onto the sleeping pad. The crown of Ranma’s head peeked out from the edge of the blanket, and Akane brushed hesitant fingers over her soft tousled hair.

“I’m not sure if I’m making the right decision,” she said softly, almost to herself, “and maybe you’ll be upset with me later, but…” Ranma stuck her head out to rub her face against Akane’s hand. Akane snorted out half a laugh, but her eyes dimmed sadly. “Well, you seem happy right now,” she said, “and it’s not like you’ll remember any of this tomorrow. So where’s the harm?”

Ranma rolled over to face Akane and rubbed against her shoulder. Akane laughed, this time with her chest, but it emerged, choked and forceful, as a sob. She touched her cheek, dully surprised to find it wet. When did that happen?

Okay, maybe there’s a little harm in it, after all.

With her head resting sideways on Akane’s shoulder, Ranma observed calmly as Akane wiped away her tears and pouted down at her.

“I couldn’t sleep on that stupid boat,” she confessed. “So I kept running it over in my mind, and there’s only one thing you could’ve meant, isn’t there?” 

Ranma only stared, her relaxed grey eyes steady but unreadable, inhumanly serene.

“And it’s not wrong, is it, Ranma?” Akane asked, her voice small and pleading. “We’re only friends and we’re only sleeping– there’s nothing wrong with that. A feeling isn’t wrong, Ranma, and please don’t say that it is.”

Ranma blinked sleepily at her, a slight smile barely lifting the corners of her mouth.

“That’s what it is, right?” Akane asked her softly. “You… you feel the same way I do.”

Ranma stretched toward her and bumped their lips together, swiping a clumsy kiss against Akane’s mouth as if to mark her with her scent. Then she flopped back down and resumed purring while a deep shade of rose overcame Akane’s skin. Akane trembled from more than just the vibration of Ranma’s purrs beside her, and her sinuses grew hot and moist, and her cheeks grew hot and then moist. 

“Ranma, you idiot,” she whimpered. “That was the part that’s wrong.”

She petted Ranma’s soft fine hair again, foolishly searching for comfort in the source of her pain.

“You’re engaged to my friend, and I know you want to make up with him,” Akane sniffed miserably. “Deny it all you want, but it’s obvious that you love him, and he’s really a great guy. I know he’ll take care of you.”

Akane wiped her face on her sleeve and let out a sigh that rattled in her chest. Her head flopped to the side, and her gaze dropped again to Ranma’s shaggy black hair. tangled on the pillow. 

“I’m sorry, Ranma,” she whispered hoarsely. “You act so boyish sometimes, part of me forgot that you’re still a normal girl. You probably dream about getting married someday, about having a family, just like I do. And all we can ever be… is girlfriends.” 

The purring faded into something closer to snores as Ranma drifted out of consciousness. Akane turned onto her side, the middle of Ranma’s curled spine grazing her back with every swell of her deep breaths. Akane’s chest ached as if it were bound, her inhales tight and painful and her exhales deeply sore. She scrunched her eyes shut and huffed bitterly.

“Look at me, talking like we might run away together when I’ve barely known her a week,” she muttered. “And she thinks she's a freaking cat right now, so clearly we’ve both lost it.”

The more still she was, the more the island seemed to move, to sway on the sea like it was floating. She focused on that imagined motion, clung to any sensation outside of her body, outside of Ranma’s body, outside of the tiny, shrinking space where the two of them were together. And slowly, the phantom waves underneath the tent rocked Akane to sleep. 

Some time later, Ranma’s ears twitched at the shrill, grating tern calls mixed in with the general twittering of birds. He groaned quietly and drew the comforter a little tighter across his collarbone. It figured that morning would come just when he was finally sleeping well, when the couch had finally gotten warm, when the water had gotten so calm it felt like land. He decided to sleep until shaken awake, but his stomach rumbled in disagreement.

Hey, what happened to that tuna fish sand– that CAT!

Ranma’s eyes flew open as he suddenly sat up and looked wildly around. Tent, solid ground, Akane, no cats. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and sighed.

Curse that old man– who keeps a cat on a boat? 

His head traced a circle as he looked around the tent again, calm this time, until his gaze fell on Akane's back. He tilted his head to see a sliver of her sleeping profile, and he chuckled softly.

Guess you handled it, huh? What’d you do– sedate me until we got to China? No wonder I’m starved.

He stepped over her and unzipped the tent flap, letting in the sea breeze and the dim light of dawn. While Ranma peered curiously at the trees, wondering if they were Chinese, Akane stirred behind him.

“Ranma?” she rasped, groggy. “Are you back to normal?”

“Mornin’, Akane. Sorry for passing out on ya again,” he said sheepishly as he rezipped the tent to shut out the wind. “What’s going on– where are we?”

He felt her apprehension before he turned around to see it. She scooted backward, sliding herself upright, and her large, regretful eyes travelled reluctantly from her lap to him. 

“The boat’s gone,” she said. Ranma’s face fell, and she added, “Don't worry! Everyone's okay, and a rescue will be here soon.”

“Akane, what happened?” Ranma asked quietly.

Akane dropped her gaze. “The Cat Fist,” she admitted. “But it was sort of my fault. I was playing with you, and at first I thought I had it under control, but then– Ranma, I had no idea it was that powerful.”

Ranma clenched her jaw, shook her head at her lap, and didn't say anything.

“You should know,” Akane said gently, “you probably saved my life when the boat was sinking.”

“Least I could do,” Ranma muttered. “Since you wouldn't need saving if it weren't for me.”

“It was an accident!” Akane insisted. “And like I said, I–”

“Shut up, will ya?” Ranma said irritably. She pouted apologetically at Akane’s surprised face. “Nah, sorry, it's just– it’s because of me that you're in this mess in the first place.”

Akane frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Never mind,” Ranma sighed. “No use sittin’ around pointing fingers.”

“That’s the spirit!” Akane said brightly. She threw off the sleeping bag, pulled the zipper, and smiled at Ranma as she rolled it up. “The coast guard should be here soon, and we’ll figure out a new plan once we’re back in town.”

Ranma didn’t move. “Akane,” he said as she yanked the elastic strap around her sleeping bag, “I’ve already got a plan.”

Her finger slipped from under the elastic, and it snapped with a thump against the rolled fabric. She looked up with a grin. “Leave it to you, Ranma,” she said warmly. She knelt across from him and slapped her hands on her thighs emphatically. “Fill me in.”

Ranma met her eyes with a firm, serious gaze. “Okay, here it is. You’re gonna ask ‘em to drop you off at the train station and go as far home as the rest of the money’ll take ya. Call your folks to come pick you up from there.”

Akane’s mouth fell open. “Wh-What? I didn’t come this far to give up now!”

“I’m not asking you to give up, dummy, I’m asking you to wait!” Ranma said, frowning. “I’ll swim the rest of the way and come back with that stupid shampoo, like I shoulda done in the first place.”

“Swim?” Akane asked incredulously. “You’re kidding.”

Ranma shook his head. “It’s not easy, but I’ve done it before.” He leaned earnestly toward her and said, “I swear I’ll bring your memories back, Akane. You know I’m good for it, don'tcha?”

Akane’s features spiraled inward with doubt and confusion. “But Ranma,” she said, “what on Earth did I forget that’s so important?” 

Ranma lifted up a corner of the deflating sleeping pad with a sigh, then dropped it and craned his neck around Akane. Her hair flipped back and forth over her ears as she glanced behind her and back to Ranma’s listless expression.

“Where’s that notebook of yours?” Ranma asked.

“Oh, that.” Akane let out a little huff and smiled ruefully. “It was in my jacket, but…”

The sound of waves and seagulls floated through the thin walls of the tent.

“Gotcha,” Ranma said hollowly. At least no one would ever see that horrible photo again. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. By the end of the day you’ll be home, and you won’t even remember you forgot anything.”

“Don’t give me that!” Akane said with an eyeroll. “I’ve had enough of this, Ranma– you’ve been keeping things from me this whole time, promising it’ll all make sense later, and I’ve been as patient as I can be. But I’m not going home until you tell me what in the world is worth you swimming to China for.”

Akane crossed her arms and stared at Ranma expectantly. Her shoulders were hunched, her hands balled into nervous fists on her thighs, and she pressed her lips together. 

Well, I guess there’s already no going back. Only one way to know if she’ll forgive me.

Ranma took a slow, unsteady breath before she looked up at Akane with dark, sad, almost guilty eyes. 

“It was me,” she said. “You forgot about me.”

“What?” Akane whispered, her arms and brows relaxing in surprise. Ranma chewed her lip and stared at the floor between them, the sleeping pad flat now and the ground pressing back against their shins. “Ranma, we were friends before?”

“I wouldn’t… call us friends, exactly,” Ranma said quietly, her gaze flicking up to Akane regretfully before glueing itself again to the ground too quickly to see her blush. 

“You– you mean we…” Akane’s voice began breathy and quiet, then wavered into nothing with a soft gasp of air as her eyes widened with understanding and lips parted in shock. Then she cried, “Oh, Ranma!” and nearly toppled her with a forceful hug. What Ranma was telling her was completely crazy, but it still made more sense than love at first sight.

“A-Akane?” Ranma blinked in surprise, his cheeks growing warm as her arms slid tighter around him and the smell of her hair filled his nose. She shook slightly, sniffled quietly, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he tentatively hugged her back.

Akane, don’t be stupid– it doesn’t matter that we fought so much before. If this means you’ll forgive me, then you bet I’ll forgive you, too. No question.

“N-No need to cry,” he said, a small plea in the phrase. “If you want, we can start over from here.” 

“I don’t know how it went before, Ranma,” Akane said, her voice hushed over his shoulder, “but I liked you right away.”

Ranma swallowed thickly. “Me too,” she said. “Right away.”

Akane loosened her grip on Ranma and sniffed up her tears. Hesitantly, she asked, “But… but what about Ryoga?”

Ranma’s eyebrows twitched. She drew back from the hug, holding Akane’s shoulders, and with a reproachful scowl said, “Ryoga can stick his nose back where it belongs!” She shook her head briefly, not caring to delve into why Akane thought Ryoga’s opinion mattered, and focused on her again with a clear, intent look in her eyes. “Listen, Akane,” she said firmly. “I know this trip’s been a nightmare, but the one good thing about it was getting to know you.” 

“Getting to… know me?” Akane repeated, slow and confused. Didn’t she just say they already did– and why did that phrase seem oddly familiar and so deeply wrong? She shifted uncomfortably where she sat and rubbed the back of her neck absently, at some dull pressure there that went away as soon as she touched it.

“Getting to know you better, I mean,” Ranma said. She half-smiled confessionally. “I maybe had ya wrong in some ways.”

Getting to know… better?

The pressure sharpened into a twinge of pain that struck through her head, and Akane flinched, but once again it was gone before she could identify it. 

“And I’d like to keep getting to know each other better after this,” Ranma continued.

Akane flinched again. She couldn’t focus on what Ranma was saying, or trying to make sense of it; she tried to chase that painful feeling even as it disappeared from her mind like a tablecloth pulled from under rattling china. It wasn’t like a migraine, or like a blow to the skull, it was–

“Wh-What?” Ranma blinked. Akane’s face was twitching, beginning to scrunch into a scowl. “All I said was we should get to know each other better.”

Hurt. Emotional hurt. Anger, betrayal– that kind of pain, wrapped up in an innocuous turn of phrase.

We should get to know each other better…

Get to know each other better…

Know each other better…!

Something flickered in her eyes, and whatever it was made Ranma’s pulse quicken. “Something wrong with that?” he asked, voice faltering despite his attempt to sound defiant.

Akane grimaced, closed her eyes, and pressed the heels of her hands into her temples, her fingers gripping into her short hair. Ranma leaned on his hands to peer more closely at Akane’s face in growing concern, and he tentatively called her name as images flashed in her mind. 

“Akane?”

Her backyard. Daytime. The birdhouse. A boy and a girl, embracing. Her fingers plunging, ripping into straw. Her backyard. Nighttime. The pond. A girl, startled to see her. Her fingers stinging, slapping against skin.

“That’s… that’s…” she gasped.

“What?” Ranma asked anxiously.

Akane let go of her hair and her head snapped up, her face livid. 

“That’s the exact same thing you said to Shampoo!”

Chapter Text

“That’s the exact same thing you said to Shampoo! ” 

Akane yelled it as memories flooded through her, and her body reacted before her mind caught up to the present: she slapped Ranma hard enough to throw him against the wall of the tent, which promptly bounced him onto the ground with a hard thud. Akane scrambled backward on her rear, one hand dropping behind her for support and the other covering her mouth in shock. 

R-Ranma?!

Ranma pushed himself up, his eyes as wide and dumb as she’d ever seen them. Her handprint, in sharp relief on his cheek, rang through his skull– it would have been stamped over every slice of an MRI. 

“Shampoo?!” he repeated, bewildered.

“You rang?” 

It was as if the voice itself– cute, high and lilting– violently shredded through the tent as a huge spherical mace tore through the fabric, scattering fragments of cloth and springing a tent pole into the air. On all fours, Ranma kicked, springing himself by his toes to dive onto Akane, a desperate leap to knock her out of the way of the mace as the other tent pole snapped and jabbed him in the back. He hovered protectively above her, ignoring her yelp, and swiveled beneath the wreckage to face Shampoo’s cruel grin above them. She wiggled her fingers.

“Found you!” she sang. Her smile hardened into a death glare. “Now die!”

Ranma rolled with Akane one and a half turns across the floor of the tent as Shampoo’s chui smashed a crater beside them. He drove the hard end of it down with his heel when she tried to lift it, and Shampoo gasped in irritation as the handle broke off in her hand and the head ripped through the bottom of the tent and lodged in the dirt. Akane struggled furiously against the arms around her, anger and embarrassment boiling her blood, and shoved Ranma off roughly. Shampoo’s second mace pounded into the newly vacated space between them, the vibration rattling up through their soles.

“Get off me, Ranma, you– you–” Akane sputtered, her pink cheeks splotching into red. She pursed her lips, scowling in frustration, and yelled, “I can’t even say what you are because Shampoo’s right here!”

Shampoo’s eyebrows rose curiously, and she paused mid-swing, intrigue hanging her mace in the air. “No, please,” she said cheerfully, opening her palm in invitation. “Shampoo wants to learn a new foreign swear.”

Akane took advantage of the opening and jumped past her out of the tent. 

“Hey!” Shampoo’s glare whipped after her. 

In the moment of distraction, Ranma ripped the elastic band from Akane’s sleeping bag and snapped it around Shampoo’s ankles as she spun to pursue. Shampoo tripped and fell flat to the ground with a sharp cry, and Ranma bounced on her head as he skipped off to catch Akane first.

“Later, Shampoo!” he called to the dazed warrior in the dirt.

The island was new and different now that she could actually see it. There were colors and shapes other than black lumps that blocked out stars and brown circles of dirt and grass under the flashlight beam. Maybe it was even beautiful and colorful and full of natural wonder, but Akane was too upset to care about any of that nonsense. She was simply annoyed that she wasn’t sure where she was going. Woodsmoke began to blow in as Akane stalked down the hill toward the beach, weakly recalling the path through her other senses that were overwhelmed with the addition of vision. Those other senses thankfully caught Ranma bounding toward her because, at that moment, she didn’t care to see him.

“Akane, do you remember me?” he said hopefully, reaching for her shoulder. Akane jerked it away and glared at him with angry tears brimming in her eyes.

“I remember everything, Ranma, you womanizing weasel!” she snapped. “I can’t believe you actually made me like you!”

A shock rang against Ranma’s sternum while Akane picked up her pace, running toward the smell of the campfire and the smoke now visible through the sparse trees. He felt the tingles of it across his collarbone and up into his clenched jaw. She remembered everything, all the humiliation he endured, all the things they went through, and she still would say that? A rash of anger was climbing his throat. He sprinted after her.

“It’s not like I tricked you into it, stupid!” he retorted as he caught up with her again.

Akane scowled. “Yes, you did! This whole time, you’ve been pretending to be my friend!”

“Are you serious?! Just how stupid can you be?” Ranma yelled.

The hairs on the backs of their necks raised as malice cut through the air. They had only a split second to duck before Shampoo’s chui whirled over their heads with the force of helicopter blades, whipping up their hair. The mace dug into the beach, its tailspin spraying sand and gravel as it skidded to a stop in front of the kettle hanging over the campfire. The old man stood as fast as an old man could, covering his face, and stepped protectively in front of the pet carrier where Tiger meowed morosely and peed a little on the blanket inside. His weary eyes traced the rut in the sand to the two girls he'd brought—and a third now chasing after them. He was definitely ready for another retirement.

Akane gritted her teeth. Ranma’s hand pushing down between her shoulderblades ticked her off because she was already ducking, for heaven’s sake! If he thought she was so slow, then he could dodge this! And she elbowed him off with a sharp jab to the ribs.

“Ow!” he complained, rubbing his side and glowering at her. “What was that for?”

With a light red mark still around her ankles, Shampoo’s feet rammed into Ranma’s back and pinned him to the ground. “Die!” she shouted.

“You two have fun!” Akane shot bitterly over her shoulder, her voice cracking in anger, as she stormed toward the shore.

“Akane–” Ranma began, his head popping up, but Shampoo deliberately stomped it back down in revenge on her way to recover her chui. Akane was nearing the firepit.

“No, you don’t!” Shampoo shouted at her.

Akane turned and smirked at the Amazon, narrowing her eyes smugly. “Don’t what? This?” she said, wrapping her hands around the mace’s handle, and Shampoo’s face twitched murderously. With a grunt of effort, Akane flung the chui as far as she could out to sea. She stuck out her tongue as Shampoo shrieked in outrage, flying down the beach with Ranma not far behind.

“Nyaah!” 

“You annoying girl!” Shampoo growled. “Die!”

“Eek!” 

Akane squeaked in terror as, kettle in hand, she dove away from Shampoo’s barehanded attack that looked poised to gauge her eyes out. Ranma grabbed Shampoo’s elbows from behind, holding her back. 

“Why’s Akane getting all the attention, Shampoo?” he whined, pouting girlishly. “I’m jealous!” Shampoo craned her neck to snarl at him, and he batted his eyelashes at her. 

Akane scoffed. “Here!” The hot kettle conked against his forehead, and he hissed in pain and released Shampoo to pull it from the pink burn on his skin while Akane said harshly, “Now have a nice life!”

“Why the hell are you fighting me?” Ranma asked angrily.

“Because you’re a two-faced liar!” Akane shouted without looking back as she trudged down the shoreline.

Ranma’s face contorted, hurt and indignation twisting inside him. As Shampoo spun on the ground and sprung at him, he dodged aside and yelled, “That’s not fair!”

The mild clear waves lapped at Akane’s sneakers, leaving their white foam on the toes, melting back turquoise into blue. “Not fair?” she seethed. She pivoted, the soft wet sand yielding easily under her heels, to shout at Ranma, “You manipulated me!”

“Duh!” he spat. “So I didn’t have to see you naked!”

Akane’s face reddened, her skin burning in furious embarrassment, and she choked, “So now you insult me?!”

“Insult–?” 

Ranma’s head whipped back to Akane as he blocked a blow from Shampoo with the kettle and she squeaked and drew back her burnt hand. In one leap he crossed the beach from the campsite to the sand right in front of Akane, his eyes flashing as he got nose-to-nose with her. 

“You should be thanking me, you ingrate!” he said furiously.

“I’m supposed to thank you for lying to my face?” Akane scoffed. “That’s rich!”

Nursing the side of her burnt thumb, Shampoo landed next to the old man cowering over the cat carrier. She dropped her hand from her mouth and made eye contact with him. 

“Argument seems very juicy,” she said with sly interest. “You have the backstory?”

Mr. Tsuda blinked his puffy eyes and gave a quick, tiny shake of his head in the negative. Then he looked down the beach and said, “Missy, ain’t that your jet ski they’re making off with?”

Shampoo’s hands clapped against the sides of her face, eyes wide and horrified, and she gasped, “Aiya! Shampoo’s ride!”

Akane straddled the shiny blue jet ski and cranked the key already in the ignition. Ranma quickly hopped on the back of it, his legs splaying wide as he slammed down the hot kettle between them, and he held on with his other hand as Akane squeezed the throttle not-so-gently. They ripped through the water and he tumbled backward, his back hitting the body of the jet ski and his legs flying up into the air.

“Woah!” he exclaimed, clapping his heels onto the smooth sides of the vehicle with a rattly metallic thunk.

Akane didn’t even look back, her expression set in an angry pout toward the mainland, and she was speeding dead ahead. Behind her, Ranma sat up with a scowl of his own.

“Watch it, Akane!” he huffed. “I almost fell off!”

In response, Akane veered tightly right and then left, weaving crazily side to side in the water and still revving the thing at top speed.

“Gaa-aa-aah!” Ranma screamed, clinging desperately to the back of the jet ski as it bucked him over the waves like a mechanical bull. 

With panicked tears in the corners of his eyes, he dove on his front and locked his knees and elbows around its sleek body, grasping the seat with his left hand as he still clutched the kettle in his right.

“Quit it, you lunatic!” he shouted, his voice cracking between panic and irritation. “I get that you’re mad, but do you have to turn me into fish food?”

Akane humphed, although he couldn’t hear it from where his ear was flat against the purring vehicle. Over the roar of the wind, rumble of the machine, and hiss of the spray, she yelled back, “Mad doesn’t even begin to cut it!”

Ranma’s heart raced against the jet ski, but Akane returned to her beeline course for land. He let out a quick sigh of relief, his limbs relaxing and draping over the vehicle for a moment before he sat up, having determined that it was safe to do so. 

Once closer to her ear, he demanded, “You think it was fun for me, having you think I was a girl this whole time?” 

Akane rolled her eyes. “I don’t know, Ranma! I bet you had a lot of fun at my expense!”

“You dope!” Ranma snapped. “I only did it ‘cause you’d forget who I was, and I lied as little as I had to, okay?”

“Is that so?” Akane said sarcastically. “Then congratulations on your engagement to Ryoga!”

Ranma’s mouth widened into a grimace. “Th-That was– that had nothing to do with you! I was just messing with him ‘cause he was bothering us! Gack!”

The kettle rang like a gong against the jet ski as Akane slapped her forehead and it tilted dangerously to the left. Ranma looked up again, scowling at her back, after she put her hand back on the handle and righted the jet ski.

“Pay atten–”

“Oh, god!” Akane exclaimed. “All those horrible things you said about your ‘fiancé’– there I was, so concerned for you, and you were talking about me!”

Ranma gulped. “Hey! I already took that back, didn’t I?”

“Why bother?” Akane said bitingly. “It’s nothing you haven’t said before.”

Ranma grumbled a curse under his breath. They were approaching whatever part of Kyushu this was, and Akane skimmed along the shoreline until she spotted a dock and slowed against it. Ranma sprung onto the pier and held out a hand to her, but Akane slapped it away and, after a few wobbles on the jet ski, jumped onto it herself. Ranma rolled his eyes and poured the kettle over his head, flexing gratefully in his male body.

Over her shoulder, Akane glared at the man she remembered and said coldly, “Honestly, Ranma, I don’t even care– but let’s not pretend you didn’t mean every word.”

Ranma’s nose twitched as his pout drew up like the keystone in the arch of his downturned mouth. “Maybe I did!” he retorted, and he felt the old thrill of satisfaction when it made Akane stop walking away, pausing with her fists clenched and her shoulders tensing up by her ears. 

“What’d I say, anyway– that you’re violent? Hotheaded? Stubborn?” he taunted. “Dontcha think you’re kinda proving my point?”

Seething, Akane spun around, her face scrunched and red with anger. Ranma was already stomping forward to close the gap between them, and she screamed up in his face, “I hate you, you lying jerk! To think you said you liked me right away!”

“I did!” Ranma shouted, bearing down on her. “I did like you right away! It was only afterward that I realized what you were actually like!”

He staggered when Akane slapped him, a mark blooming to match his other cheek. He raised a hand to the warm skin going inflamed, the salty breeze on the pier numbing the sting but not the regret. Like seawater tearing into ink and paper, dissolving binding-glue: how did it all just fall apart? Of all the things he should have told her, in order of as-soon-as-possible to never-ever, he’d looped around the top and bottom of the list. He never wanted to see these tears welling in Akane’s eyes– tears that he had caused. 

“Then maybe you should’ve just stayed forgotten!” she spat thickly, turning her back on his stricken face.

“W-Wait, Akane,” he said, low and trembling– but she didn’t. Her stomps echoed under the pier, shaking the boards creakily against their nails, and he called after her, more desperate now, “I– I didn’t mean that!”

“‘Scuse me!” Akane gasped, her voice catching on a sob, as she nearly barreled through a group of fishermen in their rubber boots carrying their rods and tackle boxes. 

They parted, scratching their heads or their beards or whatever came naturally to scratch, as their curious gazes followed the distraught young woman. As soon as they faced front again, shrugging, they flinched and exclaimed in fright, a rabbit’s instinct under a hawk’s eye, at the large shadow flying over their heads. Spinning around once more, they witnessed a young man gracefully land behind them and run after the girl. 

The fishermen exchanged glances and laughs and jokes and shakes of the head and settled on a bench stationed along the side of the pier– rods against the railing, bait boxes clattering down. The first of them to sigh in amusement and cast his line felt an almost immediate tug, and, oh– it was a big one! He reeled and reeled and strained and strained, and two of his buddies wrapped their arms around his torso, a human tripod, while the fourth shouted encouragement and fumbled with his camera, crouching to stare at the bubbles emerging from a shadow growing closer to the surface of the water. To everyone’s shock, a voluptuous young woman with very long, very thick hair the color of dulse burst from the water, scattering droplets over the crouched man as he stumbled backward, his camera falling into the bay below. His trio of companions, too, had fallen in a pile on the pier. The warm orange fingers of sunrise stretched the shadow of her petite figure across the boards between them, and they all gazed up with mouths agape at that unexpected, strikingly pretty girl, her features marked with sharp feline cuteness.

“Ni hao!” she said with a cheery smile before she skipped down the pier, and from that day forward, the four friends would swear, to anyone who would listen, that mermaids spoke Chinese.

That smile curled smugly around Shampoo’s lips as she spotted him easily like she always would– she would know him anywhere. He wasn’t the one she had been looking for, but he would always stand out to her– he was to be her husband, after all! And, as usual, she would happily spare some time for her darling husband, even if every brief encounter extended her hunt for her true quarry. That made it all the more romantic, Shampoo thought. He was a handsome god of mercy seducing a beautiful goddess of vengeance, the type of love story written in the very stars. Each effervescent moment of love sparkling between them meant a precious moment of life for her fleeing prey. 

Shampoo sighed to herself, her eyes shining, as she chased him from the rooftops, her darling little red triangle, his braid swinging as he jogged from the wharf into town. But, if she were honest, which she sometimes was, that fantasy was losing its appeal. It glimmered more when she pitied them. She had pitied Akane first, a clearly weaker woman– truly only just strong enough not to be an outright insult to Shampoo– who couldn’t have known, when she got engaged to Shampoo’s fated one, how much she was getting in the way. Then she’d even pitied that female Ranma a little, once she started protecting Akane, a seemingly invulnerable opponent foolishly taking on a weakness for herself. 

Like when the news airs some fluff about a man lifting a car to save his dog– sweet and pointless, since they’ll both just end up hurt. The dog is so injured he’ll probably die regardless, and the man is so weak that he’ll collapse when the adrenaline wears off. It’s even sweeter when it’s tragic like that, right? That’s how Ranma and Akane looked to Shampoo. She’d pitied them, even knowing that pity had gotten her chasing those two annoying wild geese in the first place. The reason why was silly but simple: because she was in love herself.

Shampoo sighed again and rolled her eyes as she gazed down the rut of an alleyway, noting which direction Ranma dashed around the corner. That’s what love does to you– makes you foolish and weak in new ways. She should be mad at herself, but instead she giggled, an indulgent little squeal, because she was in love! She, Shampoo, already bored of the young men in the village, at her lowest after public disgrace, had been swept off her feet by a strapping young warrior in an exotic land! They would be married, and everything would be perfect, as soon as– oh, yeah– as soon as destroyed that other Ranma and that other fiancée. 

Yes, it was a pity it had to end, but not enough to stop her. It was kind of sweet and pointless how they had seemed a little bit happy running off (cough , for their lives) together, seemed to become best friends or lovers or whatever they had been. That’s what fear does to you– makes you foolish and love whomever’s around you. A final wish for the dying, a last blessing for the damned, a shooting star born of a kiss between the god of mercy and goddess of vengeance, and oh, no– no no no, it was all so stale! Shampoo was over the whole doomed girlfriends thing. Particularly when they had grown irritatingly comfortable enough to have a blowout fight right in front of her– and not even explain what it’s about, the nerve! Particularly when they weren’t together anymore, because she spotted her, then, only one half of her quarry. Particularly when that half, that Akane, was back with her Ranma– her fated husband!

Akane: Shampoo sneered as she caught sight of the girl sticking out her tongue at Ranma, pivoting on her heel, stomping off. That fantasy wasn’t just stale– it was stiff. Dead. They’d humiliated her, especially that female Ranma, and that Akane was shaping up to be an even bigger pain in her neck. She hated them and wanted them gone. That didn’t mean she would enjoy the dirty work. She romanticized it to comfort herself a bit about it, but she never took any pleasure in chopping through a chicken’s neck. Even when she was a brash and petty child and it pecked the hell out of her hand first, she had felt a little pity for it– a little more, truthfully, for the ones that fought– when it went limp and died. But without the slaughter, how could she and her husband relax and clink glasses over a beautiful coq au vin? 

Shampoo smirked as loud voices began to bounce up to her from the alley below. A relaxing honeymoon in the French countryside– no, the glamorous Riviera suited Shampoo more– oh, but the details could wait. It was shaping up to be a very nice shiny new fantasy either way, and she was very close now. She could hear them.

“We both know you have no idea where you’re going!” Ranma shouted after Akane, stalking five paces behind her, just far enough to keep her from bolting. “So why don’t you just stop?”

“Shut up, Ranma!” Akane snapped.

Shampoo blinked. What? But they couldn’t have gotten the shampoo formula number 911. That stubborn girl– Shampoo would only give her the same pity as the chickens, too stupid to fly away when they had the chance. 

Ranma gritted his teeth. “I already apologized a hundred times!” he complained. “Don’t you get that that’s not what I wanted to say?”

“Don’t you get that I’m not interested in what you have to say?!”

Before Ranma could reply, a figure dropped from the roof into the alley in front of Akane. Two legs that collapsed into a neat, quiet crouch on the brick, trailed by a long swath of hair that swished down and flicked the ground as it cloaked her shoulders, the bells tied in it jingling. Shampoo raised her head, her glare locked on Akane, and stood proudly. Akane clenched her fists, squared her stance, and stared Shampoo down while Ranma crept closer, sweat beading on his brow.

“You remember Ranma?” Shampoo seethed. “You stubborn girl!”

“You’re one to talk!” Akane shot back.

“Too bad,” Shampoo said, puffing her outrage through her nose, imagining herself raising a cleaver. “If you don’t remember… you don’t have to die! ”

Shampoo rushed forward with speed she’d never seen, and her fighter’s instincts failed her in the ambush, and the human cursed the mammal within herself as Akane inhaled sharply and froze in fear. For a split second, she thought her last thought would be Shampoo’s voice echoing in her mind: die, die, die . Then all she saw was red, and for a split second, she thought maybe Shampoo really had gauged her eyes out this time. But a black pendulum swung across the red, which was stuck a bit with sweat to defined back muscles, and it smelled faintly of sand and dirt and tuna and– Ranma.

“Shampoo! Stop already!” Ranma yelled as he intercepted Shampoo’s hands before they struck.

Shampoo’s rage vanished instantly into his firm grip, just enough to overpower her, her admiration blooming from his strength and restraint. He was gorgeous. She threw her arms around his neck even though he smelled a bit of sweat and sand and dirt and tuna. “Wo ai ni!” she sighed sweetly.

“Now wait a second!” Ranma said, extracting himself from her embrace. “Listen to me! Don’t hurt Akane!” he instructed firmly.

Shampoo gave him an equally firm look, a cool patience. He didn’t understand her culture yet, and although it was quite simple, it seemed hard for him to grasp. So she explained very, very simply.

“Is obstacle,” she said. “Obstacle is for killing.”

Ranma seemed to understand. Under her serious gaze, his expression shifted subtly away from any vexation and into resolved acceptance. 

“I guess there’s no choice,” he said. “I have to tell you the truth.”

He looked away from Shampoo to a gutter that drained into the alley. Someone had replaced the last segment of the pipe with a bucket waiting underneath to catch rainwater. Ranma bent over it, and the reflection of his face’s shadow rippled in the water as he lifted it by the handle. Shampoo took a few curious steps toward him while Akane looked on, her chest heaving with a hard little sigh, from where she’d retreated at the end of the alley.

Ranma upended the bucket over his head, and where he had been stood a small young woman packed with balanced lean muscle and indisputable curves. Some things were similar, one thing unmistakably the same– the keen determination in those steely eyes. That hot gaze Shampoo had admired now made her blood run cold as she found herself staring not at her husband, but at her sworn enemy.

“Female… Ranma?” she breathed, her voice echoing in her ears from far outside herself.

“That’s right,” the girl said, bringing her hands to the top clasp of her changshan. “I try to keep it a secret, but the male side is just a disguise.” With two clasps undone, she pulled open her shirt to expose her breasts. “I'm really a girl,” she said, looking up from her cleavage to Shampoo with those… eyes!

The humiliation. The insult upon injury upon insult. Her title, her heart, her hopes and dreams and her entire life – this girl had seized them, stolen them, consumed them, and stomped on them all! Shampoo had been the best of the best, and this girl had played her like a fiddle! Shampoo crumpled. Balled up. Fists shaking. Everything shaking. With rage, with growls, with the anger roiling inside her until she burst.

“So I’m afraid you and I just can’t…” Ranma was saying as she did her shirt back up, not that Shampoo heard a word. “Huh?” she said the instant before Shampoo erupted.

“KILL!” she howled. It was one of the first words she had learned in Japanese, and she had always liked the satisfying guttural way it rolled in her throat when she growled it at this woman she hated so much. It ripped at her voice as she lunged at Ranma, her mind as blank with rage as the knuckles on her closed fist.

“Eeeek!” Ranma squeaked, and Shampoo stopped in her tracks, her fist screeching to a halt before it touched the arm Ranma threw up to block. 

Ranma opened her eyes, took in Shampoo’s face, and gulped. Shampoo’s open mouth trembled. Love and fear and hate and pity mixed together messily, insoluble, marbling, and they fell as tears from her dark eyes. 

Ranma wasn’t a man. In that instant, she wasn’t even a woman– she was a dog. 

Shampoo was as weak as a man, her adrenaline wearing off. Maybe it was sweet, or maybe it was pointless, but she bowed her head, hid her face, and brushed past Akane on her way out of the alley. The other yappy little dog. 

“Bie liao,” Shampoo whispered bitterly. May you two bitches be happy together.

“Uh…” Ranma said lamely, blinking as Shampoo walked away. He cautiously approached Akane, who was staring after her with the same surprise and sympathy he felt. “Guess you were right about her,” he said. “Not being a killer and all.”

“Hmph.” Akane folded her arms. “You got lucky,” she said, her eyes raking up and down his face.

Really lucky. At any time, you could have told the real truth and saved yourself. But you lied, and risked her being after you for the rest of your lives, all to protect me instead. Stupid lucky idiot.

Ranma scratched the back of his head. “Lucky, huh?” he mused. “Well, first time for everything.”

Akane started off down the street, only at a brisk walk this time, and he quickly followed at her heels. “Hey!” he said. “Honest question: just where do you think you’re going?”

“To find a hostel,” Akane grumbled. “I’m tired.”

—

Ranma wasted no time flipping on the electric kettle stationed in the lobby next to bags of cheap black and green tea. He’d been a girl all week, and he longed to be a guy again. He needed to be, to talk to Akane as a man, for her to see him as a man. She watched him from the empty reception desk where she’d rung a bell but no one had come to answer yet. Man, did that recognition in her eyes feel so warm, but boy, did those daggers they were shooting at him sting. Or maybe that warmth and that sting were both coming from the hot water trickling from his scalp to his neck. Akane rang the bell again.

“I’m coming,” said an older woman, emerging from a door behind the reception desk and taking a seat on the industrial stool. “Welcome, guests,” she said perfunctorily. “Are you checking in?”

“Yes,” Akane said as Ranma sidled up to the counter beside her. 

“Whatever’s cheapest,” he said flatly, pulling out his wallet.

The woman narrowed her eyes behind her square spectacles, sizing them up. “Mixed dorm,” she said slowly, pronouncing the consonants with icy crispness. “You’ll have it to yourselves,” she muttered bitterly. “It’s the off-season.”

“Great,” Akane said impatiently through a yawn. She waited for a key, any key, to drop into her hand so she could perhaps, with some respite, give her addled brain a chance to unscramble itself after what it had been through since its last good sleep.

Ranma’s brow twitched irritably at the woman’s tone. “Uh,” he said impudently, “is there a problem, lady?”

Like a ghost in a horror movie, Akane slowly turned a ghastly expression on Ranma, her wide, vengeful eyes cursing him. A clear message: You are such an idiot! 

He crossed his arms and frowned reproachfully, shaking his head minutely but vigorously down at her. A clear message: WHAT?!

The woman at the desk harrumphed. “Anything goes these days!” she declared. “Handing out rooms to unmarried couples– hmph! This isn’t some love hotel!”

Their faces flushed. 

“Like I’d do that with him!” Akane blurted loudly. 

“Like I’d go there with her!” Ranma said at the same time.

They both glared at each other, then Akane turned hers on the innocent tea station while Ranma turned his on the concierge.

“Anyway, not that it’s any of your business,” he said defensively, “but we’re engaged.”

“Excuse me!” Akane’s head flipped back to him in surprise, her face warming again after barely a moment to cool, and her crossed arms straightened into fists balled at her sides. “When did you get so comfortable saying that?! ” 

Ranma scowled at her. “Who knows, Akane?” he said sarcastically. “Maybe when I had to explain it to some ditz about five hundred times this week!”

“Well, don’t get used to it!” Akane snapped.

The woman behind the desk coughed lightly into a handkerchief and opened a drawer. “You certainly argue like you’re married,” she muttered. She held out a key and said, more clearly, “Room four. It’s quiet hours now, so please keep the bickering down until nine.”

There were six single beds inside, all of them unoccupied and made neatly. Four of them were bunk beds against the walls, and the last two, in an alcove by the window, had standalone bedframes. Akane speedwalked to the window, yanked the blackout curtain to smother the daylight coming through it, then threw herself on the nearest bed. The little watercolor picture, a house or a cabin or something, shivered off the adjacent wall and fell onto the mattress. Akane blindly slapped it back on its nail; it drooped crooked to one side. Ranma laid on the bed across from her and sighed at the ceiling in frustration. He heard Akane sigh, too, a big huff through her mouth. Then another one, shakier, through her nose. Then again, shorter and softer, and another, and another. Right.

Ranma leaned up on his elbow and pouted sourly at her back. “What the heck do you have to cry about?” he asked bitterly.

Akane glared at him over her shoulder, and she was pouting, too, but her lips were quivering. “I just–” she said, and hearing how weak she sounded, she fueled her voice with anger and snapped, “I want my girlfriend back!” 

Stung, Ranma retorted, “Well, so do I!”

Akane flipped all the way around, her face twisted incredulously, his audacity plugging her tears with shock. “Ex-cuse me?” she said, and she left her mouth agape for effect.

“I can just do this–” Ranma jumped to his feet, grabbed the vase from the windowsill, and doused himself. Water and flowers– he couldn’t name them as chrysanthemums– covered him, slipped down and puddled on the floor. His shirt, wet, went baggy on his shrinking frame. “There! I’m right here, Akane– now what about you?” he demanded.

Akane sat up on the bed with a hard stare. “What about me, Ranma?” she challenged.

“Maybe I lied about who I was,” he said, matching her glare, “but you’re the one who was acting like a completely different person.” He looked away, shook his head a little at the wall, and scoffed. “Feh. Now I know why everyone thinks you’re so sweet: ‘cause you’re sweet to everyone but me.”

Akane’s mouth fell open involuntarily this time, and she closed it promptly. “Give me one good reason why I should be sweet to you!” she said heatedly.

“Gee!” Ranma said, scowling at her. “How about because we actually kinda got along when you said ‘thank you’ and ‘I’m sorry’ and were honest with me when I hurt your feelings?”

“Because you listened!”

“Because you gave me a chance!”

Ranma and Akane stared each other down. Akane blinked first, her forehead twitching, and Ranma was a close second, but his brows only knit tighter as he looked down at the floor.

“I’m the exact same person, Akane,” he said resentfully, “but it’s not my personality that’s the problem– it’s just me you don’t like.”

“That’s... not true,” Akane said quietly, but her voice shook with uncertainty.

“Sure it is.” Ranma crossed his arms across his ample chest. “From the beginning, you saw me as some half-girl freak who’s never been good enough for you.”

“What? No!” Akane insisted. “I don’t think that.”

“Oh, no?” Ranma asked skeptically, cocking an eyebrow at her.

Akane bit her lip and looked down at her lap, where the fingers of her right hand drummed lightly against her thigh. “Maybe, at first, a little,” she admitted. “But once I got over the shock of it all… your curse didn’t bother me anymore.” 

She looked back up at Ranma sincerely and said, “I certainly don’t think any less of you because of it.”

Ranma slowly loosened his arms as his eyes traveled over her face. They dropped to his sides. “Well, nothing else has changed, so why don’t you– why can’t we–”

He started to sound desperate, and he couldn’t think while she was staring at him with those big dark eyes, so he looked at her hands, at the two fingers on her leg fluttering every other second with nerves. 

He swallowed. “Why can’t it be like it was?”

Akane’s other hand pinched the nervous fingers. Her hands wrung each other, and when he glanced up, she was staring down again.

She said quietly, “Ranma, are you telling me that you meant it when you said stuff like… we make a good team… and you wanna stay close and… you liked me right away?”

Ranma took a step closer as she gradually lifted her eyes from her lap up to his face. “I wasn’t pretending to be your friend. Or lying about any of that. At all.”

“I wasn’t, either,” Akane replied, her lips curving into a bashful smile. Her eyes shone up at him from under her lashes, almost black in the dim light and glittering like a starry sky.

“Heh.” Ranma blew a soft breath from his nose and let a warm grin spread across his face. “I figured.”

Akane’s adorable smile faltered too soon, shrinking into something more hesitant as the corners of her mouth tensed with nerves. “But, um, other than you being a man,” she began awkwardly, “there is another pretty big thing that’s different.”

Ranma looked down at his feet as he shifted his toes together and apart. He squinted up at her– just a quick peek. “You mean, the engagement?”

Akane gave him a mildly exasperated look. Don’t get all shy now! she thought, though her own timidness prevented her from voicing it. She swallowed softly, settling on a quiet hum of affirmation instead. “Mm.”

“Yeah, that– about that…” Ranma hunched, twiddling his thumbs as a nervous smile hitched its way, lopsided, onto his face. “Y-You said before that you wouldn’t mind, if I was a guy, and… well…” 

He glanced at her again, their eyes briefly locking. When they did, his face went blank in a sudden rush of panic, his smile freezing awkwardly, color blooming brightly across his cheeks. His mind raced wildly for something– anything– quick and stupid to say, but before he could speak, Akane’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“And you said… I’m not so bad,” she responded, her voice gruffly skating over the scratchy patch of her embarrassment.

Ranma’s thumbs stopped their nervous spinning. He looked up, his shy grin replaced by wide eyes full of hopeful uncertainty. “Then is it okay,” he asked carefully, softly, “if we keep getting to know each other?”

There was no sound or movement, not even a blink of Ranma’s eyes, so when Akane realized she was staring at him she had no idea if she’d been silent for ages– or if an instant had merely overextended itself, thinning through time into a wisp. She caught herself with a blink. Shrugging a little, she let a small smile touch her lips again.

“That’s fine with me.”

A beat late to his cue, Ranma blinked and broke into a smile. The word came up in a pleased bubble, not nearly as nonchalantly as he’d hoped. “Cool.”

Akane tilted her head and smiled, too, a sweet little half-moon that hung the starlight back in her dark eyes. Ranma’s lips parted slightly, his expression somewhere between awe and disbelief. Wow, her eyes were pretty– deeper, bigger, closer than he’d thought. When had he gotten the nerve to get this close to her? Or was she the one leaning in? He felt her gravity gently tugging on him, and he knew if he leaned in at all he’d drift off into her. 

Maybe that’d be okay. She liked him, right? She said she liked him, and she was looking at him so cute and shy, and he liked her so much that she gave him this feeling like he was teetering on the edge of the Earth, and he liked her so much that he’d jump into outer space voluntarily if that’s where she was. His gaze slipped to her lips and– hold the freaking phone! Like an idiot, he’d gone and turned himself into a chick!

Ranma flinched back sharply. “S-Sorry!” he blurted.

“Um,” Akane said, frowning in confusion. “What for?”

Sweating, Ranma rocked his hips back and forth, bending forward, straightening up, and fumbling with his hands. He wasn’t exactly about to tell her he was thinking of kissing her just now, but it reminded him of something else to apologize for. He blinked up at her sheepishly.

“Uh, uh… I’m, uh, I’m sorry if I crossed any lines, with touching or anything,” he said with a gulp, “when you thought I was a girl.” 

Pink washed across Akane’s face as two incidents fought for attention in her mind. Trying to drive them out of it, she stammered, “N-No! You didn’t.”

“R-Really?” Ranma asked, wide-eyed. He tucked his chin down and scratched the back of his head. “Even I gotta admit, the jiu-jitsu got outta hand. Swear I didn’t mean to.”

Akane flinched; that was one of them. “That was a little… full-contact,” she admitted. “But i-it was just sparring!” she said quickly, waving a dismissive hand. “Nothing weird.” 

On paper. On purpose. That you know of. That I could ever tell you about– at least without dying of embarrassment as your ego swells to the size of a skyscraper!

“Right!” Ranma said, half-relieved and half-guilty, amazed that she was letting him off so easily. “Just normal sparring.” 

Totally normal sparring that I didn’t find incredibly hot at all. Haven’t thought about it a billion times since it happened or anything.

“Right,” Akane agreed, offering a nervous smile. 

She wouldn’t tell him about the second thing, the kiss– if a bump of lips between a girl and a cat even counted as a kiss. Not yet, anyway. Maybe when he kissed her for real– wait, if! If he kissed her, that is, and if she even wanted him to ki– oh, who was she kidding?

“And everything else was okay?” Ranma asked meekly, raising anxious eyes to study her face again.

“I guess so,” Akane said slowly, unable to recall any other offenses, her mind lingering instead on hugs and hand-holding that warmed her chest pleasantly. She gave an exasperated little huff. “I mean, honestly! I still don’t see the big reason we couldn’t share a bed while you were a girl.”

“Erk.” A nervous, slack-jawed smile cracked across Ranma’s face as perspiration gathered under his bangs. “About that…” He rocked on his heels, sucking air through his teeth as he struggled for words. “I dunno if I should say this or not– you’re not gonna smack me, are ya?”

“That depends,” Akane said suspiciously, raising an eyebrow. “But go on.”

Ranma cringed in anticipation. “The thing is… this body doesn’t know it’s a girl,” he mumbled. When she didn’t immediately hit him, he hazarded a cautious glance at her blank face. Even quieter, he clarified, “Or that, y’know… girls aren’t supposed to like girls.”

“Hmph.” Akane sniffed. “That’s news to me!”

“Huh?” A bead of sweat rolled down Ranma’s temple as he stared at her, incredulous.

“O-Okay,” Akane conceded, lowering her voice, “maybe I have heard that somewhere before, but I don’t believe it.” She bit her lip and fixed her gaze at a random grey fleck on the speckled tile flooring. “...Anymore.”

Ranma’s eyelids fluttered in surprise. His neck turned stiffly as he glanced over his shoulder at the opposite bed. “Then, in that case, uh, if I were to, say, s-supposing… if these beds happened to be closer together…”

“I-If that were the case,” Akane said, blushing, “then I guess I wouldn’t make you sleep across the room.”

Ranma stopped tapping his index fingers together. “Hey,” he said abruptly. “Fix that crooked painting already, will ya?”

“Hm?” 

Akane twisted around and squinted at the little watercolor picture of a rustic church. A rough crack sounded behind her, followed immediately by a harsh screech of metal nails. She spun around in alarm.

Ranma’s face and shoulders were frozen in a guilty wince beside the second bed, now sitting neatly beside hers, its frame slightly bent, four jagged holes gaping in the tiles where its legs had been. He grimaced, opening one eye at the damage he'd caused.

“Uh… I'll fix that later,” he muttered sheepishly, ears turning pink. “Didn’t notice the stupid thing was bolted down.”

Akane’s jaw dropped, her eyes flickering from the ruined floor tiles to Ranma’s sheepish expression. A snicker snuck involuntarily into her cheeks before she clapped a hand firmly over her mouth. “Pfft!”

“Shut it,” Ranma grumbled, rolling his eyes as the blush crept across his face. 

She did stop laughing abruptly when he leaned on knee on the adjacent mattress, staring at his leg. Unnerved, he paused and asked, “Are– are you sure this is alright?” 

Technically they’re separate beds. And technically we’re both girls. And technically we’re engaged. So there’s no reason I should be this nervous right now.

“Hmph!” Akane turned her face toward the wall as she retreated under the thin comforter. “After everything, even wrecking the floor, you’re still too much of a coward?”

“Who’s a coward?!” Ranma scoffed. 

He jumped onto the bed, its springs groaning slightly. Akane looked back at him, and her gaze made his face feel hot as he slowly scooted up to his pillow, drew his knees in, and dipped his toes under the blanket.