Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Another early morning, three days since this all began. Ranma hadn’t slept well: with no word about Cologne, there hadn’t been anything to do but follow along to the routine that, for the moment, at least, felt natural and helped give him some tranquility in spite of everything that was going on. But summer vacation was finally over, and with it came the day he’d been hoping he’d be able to avoid. He was going to have to go back to school.

Would they really be able to keep this a secret? “Just act normal” had, so far, proven to be much easier said than done. Whenever he wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing, he’d find himself drifting into Kasumi’s habits and mannerisms and not noticing until someone pointed it out or he caught himself doing something really obvious. Vigilance was necessary, but going against the grain felt as wrong as much as catching himself playing the part of the dutiful homemaker felt embarrassing.

At least he wasn’t alone in this. They’d tried to come up with strategies, but nothing really seemed to work. Kasumi was no better off, and while Akane behaved a lot like she used to (Ranma tried not to think about this too hard) she was also entirely too blithe about the possibility of getting caught, confident that she’d be able to handle herself fine.

He mulled it over as he took his bath, as he doused himself in cold water, as he changed into the uniform he’d be wearing and brushed and braided his hair. Would that make him less suspicious or more? He’d gone to school as a girl in the past, and he’d worn the girl’s uniform for this or that ploy, but this was different. He’d never attended school as a girl. More and more this seemed like a lost cause, and the idea of enduring the lurid fascination of his classmates gawking at what he’d become was unbearable. In the face of his mounting dread he turned to something that he knew would soothe his nerves.

Breakfast was a simple matter — it was always a quicker affair on school days than it was during breaks or on the weekend — and once he had everything in place he turned his attention to the matter of lunch. He knew from not-his-experience that Nabiki would rather buy something on campus, but that still left himself and Akane to take care of. And Kasumi, for that matter: with her skills in the kitchen being what they were at the moment, it seemed unfair to leave her to fend for herself.

Also, if he didn’t set something aside, she might try to fend for herself.

Ranma looked at what was available. Rice was a given, but there was leftover mackerel from the night before that would be good filling for rice balls. Throw in an umeboshi, for color. It wouldn’t take him long to make a rolled omelet. And while he was doing that he could simmer some lotus and burdock root. Oh! And seaweed salad, that would be good. And then once those were done maybe he’d chop up an apple or two into rabbits? Akane would like th-

Ranma stopped, looked at the ingredients he’d laid out in front of him and pinched the bridge of his nose. No. This was getting out of hand. He just needed to make sure everyone had enough to eat. It didn’t need to be fancy, and it especially didn’t need to be cute. “Keep it simple,” he said to himself.

Was it really that big a deal, though? Akane and Kasumi were eating more lately, what with all the extra exercise they were getting. Ranma remembered how ravenous he could get sometimes: Akane would need more so she didn’t go hungry, especially if she did wind up getting in a fight. And Kasumi put cute little treats in their lunches all the time. It wasn’t as though anyone at school would know that he made it. 

And… Akane would appreciate it, too, he was sure of it. Even if he knew that these weren’t his feelings he was feeling, it was nice being appreciated. He could see her now, eyes lighting up with delight as she lifted the lid from her bento, digging in with gusto, telling anyone who’d listen what an excellent meal it was and what a wonderful, hard-working fiancée she had. 

He’d tell her not to make a scene, of course, because it was important to be modest, but he’d be thrilled just the same. And later, when they were alone…

He shook his head, forcibly pulling himself out of the reverie. Enough messing around. “It’s time to get serious about this,” he told himself, and determinedly got to work making a filling but very, very sensible lunch. 

After breakfast and giving Kasumi some last minute reminders of chores that would need to be handled during the day (“Yes, Ranma, I’ll take care of it. Yes, that too. You’re going to be late , Ranma.”), Ranma and Akane finally left for school. Summer still held a firm grip and it was sure to be sweltering by midday, but for the moment the weather was pleasant enough.

As the two of them walked in mildly awkward silence, Ranma breathed an unexpected sigh of relief. Maybe this was for the best after all. He wasn't going to pretend that he was looking forward to pretending that nothing had happened in front of all his classmates — he wasn't, he really wasn't — but the fact of the matter was that the daydreams were beginning to concern him. He'd be washing dishes or sweeping or folding laundry or some other pleasantly mindless activity, his attention would wander, and before he knew it he was thinking about... that ... again. Getting out of the house and away from those activities could only help him.

But would it? Nabiki had said Kasumi got like this whenever she had someone new she liked, and he was dealing with them even though Akane didn't care about him at all. If she was right and he was daydreaming about... that... because of Kasumi's desire to get married (and obviously that was it, because what else could it be?), how was he going to manage himself if he had to deal with anyone who would actually try to put the moves on him?

He thought back to Shampoo in the dojo, her hand on his cheek, smiling hungrily, and he shuddered.

"Akane, you don't think we could maybe just... you know, stay home, do you?" He looked away from her, embarrassed both to be running away from a challenge and to be suggesting something so irresponsible. Whichever perspective he came at it from it looked bad. "You know, pretend we're sick or something."

"Come on, Ranma, you know that's not gonna work. We still don't know how long this is going to last. How long are you planning to hide in the house over this?"

Ranma stopped at a neighbor's garden, leaning down to admire the lavender for a moment. "I know, but..."

“It'll be okay, Ranma,” Akane said, reassuringly. “You just need to relax .”

Ranma sighed, standing up and turning to face her. "You're lucky: I wish I could be as calm about this as youuuwhat are you doing , Akane?!?"

Standing on the fence. She was standing on the fence, a hand on her hip, casual as can be. From the look of surprise she gave him, she hadn't thought much about what she was doing before he pointed it out, but she quickly shrugged. "What? I wanted to see if I could do it. It's not like it's hard or anything. C'mon, stop dragging your feet already," she said, turning and walking along the rail with total assurance. 

Ranma followed after her. "Akane, get down from there! What if someone sees up your skirt?”

“They'd have to be pretty obvious about trying.”

“This is what I'm talking about, Akane! How are we supposed to keep this hidden if you can't stop yourself from something as simple as this?”

Akane hopped down from the fence with an irritated look on her face. “If anything is going to give us away, it's going to be you stressing out so much. If you act like you've got something to hide, people'll see that."

"But I do have something to hide!"

"So? They don't need to know that.”

“Akane…”

“I’m telling you, it’ll be fine. It’s only school: just take it easy like you usually do and it’ll be over in no time.”

She sounded so confident when she said it, and Ranma decided to try to take her advice. "Doesn't that mean you should be worried, if you've got my... me-ness? I bet Kasumi was a good student." Ranma grinned: maybe there was something good to be said for all this.

“I thought about that, but I didn't have any problems when I was doing the homework. However this works, it must not've traded everything .”

“...there was homework?”

Akane just gave him a smug little grin of her own and the two walked in silence for a few minutes. “On the plus side, at least we don’t have to deal with Kuno anymore. Can you imagine what a pain in the neck that’d-”

“Pigtailed Girl! Tendou Akane!”

“Oh you have got to be kidding me,” Akane grumbled.

But no, there he was, a bouquet of roses in each arm and a smile on his face, standing there in front of the school gate as if he hadn’t graduated last year. He strode confidently towards them, past students trying not to make eye contact. “My heart soars to see the two of you once more! Come, my loves, leap into my arms and we shall away to a place more worthy of us.”

“Your arms look pretty full already, Kuno,” said Akane.

“Oh, of course!” He laughed as though this were a shared moment of wit, either ignoring or ignorant of Akane’s sour expression. “Mere trifles compared to your own shining beauty, I know, but let these tokens serve as some small reflection of my passion.” With that he pressed the bouquets towards the two of them: Ranma just stared down at the flowers uncomfortably, not sure of what to say here. Why did he have to be so loud ?

Akane, on the other hand, casually tossed hers behind her (where it would be caught by a young man hurrying to catch up with the girlfriend he’d annoyed the day before, making the day for the both of them) and tried to turn up the glower. “Don’t you have classes, Kuno? We do,” she added, pointedly.

Kuno sighed and pushed the hair out of his eyes. “It’s true: ever since leaving this youthful institute of learning I have found myself unable to be here for the two of you. No doubt my absence has weighed as heavily on your hearts as yours has on mine. But fear not!” he said, beaming. “By dint of heroic struggle against those hidebound churls at the admissions office, I was able to secure a schedule of classes for this semester that will allow me to visit you here once more, before and after your day of toil! Is that not grand?”

“Oh!” Ranma said, stunned. “So you’ll be here every day, then. That’s…” he held the flowers up a little higher, as though he were raising a barrier.  “That’s great. Just… wonderful to hear.”

Kuno stopped and regarded him, as though he’d only noticed him now. “And what is this? Such a change I see in my crimson-tressed tigress in the time since last we parted. To see you garbed not in your customary battle attire but in the garb of your schoolmates is an unexpected, but not unwelcome, treat.”

He said it without sneering. Appreciatively , even. But the implicit possessiveness brought a shudder down Ranma’s spine. He wanted to stare him down but it just wasn’t happening. “It is the uniform,” he said, as though that meant anything.

“True indeed, but it is a singularly uncommon sight, is it not? And it seems it isn’t the only difference: why, you seem positively kittenish today.” Kuno reached out under Ranma’s chin and pulled his gaze upwards, smiling in what he probably thought was a smoldering sort of way. “Can it be that love-sickness at my absence has brought about this transformation? I must say, the result is most becoming.”

“It wasn’t because—” he started, but stopped himself: the tone was all wrong . He was trying to demur, to gently correct him, and Kuno was too dense for that. He started over, shaking his head to disentangle himself from Kuno’s hand, puffed himself up and tried a frown of his own to match Akane’s. “It’s got nothin’ to do with you, you j-jerk! I just felt like it today, okay?” It wasn’t working: he felt like he was play-acting. Worse, they were starting to gather a crowd, the usual students milling around to see if there was going to be another fight. People were watching him. He had to be rude or else Kuno would walk all over him and people were watching him .

Before he could say anything else Akane stepped between them, glowering at Kuno with raised fists. “Back off, Kuno, or so help me I’ll-”

This was devolving quickly. Finally Ranma managed to make a decision: grabbing Akane’s hand, he started walking. “Akane, we’re going to be late. Let’s just go to class, okay?” Fortunately she didn’t resist and the two of them brushed past Kuno and the throng of spectators, down the main pathway and into the school.

It was only about halfway to their classroom that Ranma took in that he was holding Akane’s hand: he quickly let go, blushing, and they hurried to take their seats next to each other. Everyone was talking animatedly to one another and their teacher had yet to arrive. Some people looked up when they entered, but for the most part they were ignored.

Having sat down, Akane leaned over. “Why’d you have to stop me, Ranma? He was asking for a fight and you know it,” she half-whispered.

“I stopped you because you were about to fight him, Akane!” he hissed back: it was easier to push back now that he wasn’t the center of attention, but it was also easier to push back because he could see how stupid Akane was being. Nevertheless, he quickly softened. “I’m sorry. I know you mean well but fighting him isn’t a good idea.”

“Why not? I could beat him easy!” She was getting louder: a few classmates looked their way curiously.

“Shh! Keep it down.”

She leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “Well I could .”

Ranma rolled his eyes. “Without showing off? Without doing something that’d give everything away?”

“Are you saying I can’t control myself? And anyway, what about you? You were being such a pushover that even he could see it.”

“I - no I wasn’t! You interrupted me before I could tell him off for real.”

“Then why do you still have the flowers?”

He did. In the confusion he hadn’t even noticed that he was still holding the bouquet. “I, they didn’t do anything to deserve being thrown away. Even if they were from a j-jerk.” He crammed them into the desk and immediately felt bad for doing so. They really were lovely, no matter who they came from.

“See what I’m talking about? You can’t even call him a jerk without stumbling over it.”

“I can too!”

“Prove it,” Akane deadpanned.

Ranma just paused and bit his lip.

Akane groaned with frustration. “This is never going to work. We should’ve practiced more. Let me take the lead, okay? I’ll handle him the next time he shows up.”

“Without fighting him.”

“Come on, Ranma! You know that’s the only thing he’ll listen to.”

“Akane, please. I’m not saying I don’t trust you.” He didn’t trust her, but now wasn’t the time to say that. “We fight differently, and there’s just no way to have a fight around here without people seeing. If they see you fighting him they’ll know the difference.”

“Oh, so this is about you being so much better than me?”

“You know what I mean.” Ranma blushed. “I may not know anything about fighting right now but even I can tell the difference. Just promise me, please?”

Akane looked away from his earnest expression. “This is a bad idea…” She groaned again, running a hand through her hair, but then the bell rang and everyone quieted down. “Fine,” she said. “I promise I won’t fight him. Can we drop this now?”

Ms. Ishida walked in after a few minutes (looking more tired than Ranma would’ve expected, the day after vacation), and started taking attendance. Ranma sat up straight, hands folded on his desk and hoping that his current state would pass without comment, but sure enough when she got to his name there was a pause. “…Saotome?”

“Here!”

She peered down at Ranma, not unkindly but confused. “Far be it from me to complain about you being in uniform, but is there a reason you’re in that uniform?”

And just like that he was the center of attention again. And sure, they’d come up with a plan for this - Akane had, anyway - but now that he was called on the spot it was seeming like less and less of a good idea. But nothing better was suggesting itself and so Ranma decided to stick to the script. “It’s training.”

She gave him a raised eyebrow, and once again Ranma found himself the center of his classmates’ attention. “Training.”

He nodded. “Y-yep!”

 “For martial arts. Training that means you have to wear the girl’s uniform.”

Ranma hesitated. Everyone was watching him. What was he supposed to say? Everyone was watching him. He knew how ridiculous he sounded. Everyone was watching him.

Akane blurted out an answer for him. “What, you don’t believe him? Anything can be martial arts!”

Ms. Ishida stared at Akane blankly. “Yes, but…”

“But what?” Akane stood up. “Just because it sounds silly you think it can’t be training? Have you heard of Martial Arts Tea Ceremony? Or Martial Arts Cheerleading? What about Martial Arts Babysitting, huh? Did you think of that?” Ranma shrank in his chair from sheer contact embarrassment at Akane’s increasing intensity.

Ms. Ishida, wincing, rubbed her temples.. “Ms. Tendou, this really isn’t necessary. Please take your seat.”

Just then, Ukyou raised her hand. She was in her boy’s uniform, Ranma noticed: it had been a while since she’d done that. “I think what Akane is trying to say, Ms. Ishida, is that Ranma isn’t really able to talk about it. They’re secret techniques, after all.”

Akane, caught short by the interruption and seeming irritated at having her thunder stolen, nodded as she sat down. “What she said.”

Their teacher only shrugged. “Well, whatever the reason is I’m sure it’s very exciting but let’s not let it become a distraction, all right?” This last remark was delivered in a tone that made it clear that it was being directed to the class as a whole, after which she returned her attention to finishing roll and going through the expected tedium of announcements that came with homeroom. Ranma gave Ukyou a smile of gratitude: Ukyou gave him a wink and a thumbs-up.

Next to him, Akane frowned.

After that, classes went more or less normally: Ranma was a little self-conscious at first and the teachers coming and going were all some degree of confused when they saw him, but nobody really paid it much mind, and soon enough he relaxed and was paying about as much attention as he ever did.

Which is to say, none.

“Akane!” Ranma hissed, while the teacher’s history lecture continued. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What?” Akane asked: she was leaning forward in her chair, using a notebook to fan under her skirt. “It’s hot, okay?”

“I know you know better than that.”

“Fine.” She stopped fanning and sat up straight. “Like I’ve never caught you doing that before,” she muttered.”

“Yes, but you caught me doing that.”

“Tendou, Saotome, perhaps you’d like to continue your conversation out in the hall? I’m sure you know where the buckets are by now.”

Oh, he tried to pay attention. And to his credit he usually was trying.

“What’ve you got there, Ranma?”

Ranma looked up from the meal plan for the week he’d been writing in between classes: it was Sayuri. “Nothing,” he said, in a way that he hoped came off as casual, “just notes.”

“Oh, great! Mind if I see? I was completely lost.” From over his shoulder Yuka reached out and grabbed the notebook, not waiting for a reply, then furrowed her brow as she read. “Tonight: bell peppers and beef. Tomorrow: mapo tofu. Wednesday: curry udon, make sure to ask Kasumi to get pork belly…” She clucked her tongue and shook her head. “It’s not enough that you’ve got so many girls fighting to cook delicious food for you all the time, you have to give a nice girl like Kasumi a menu? You’re a greedy man, Ranma, that’s your problem.”

Ranma gave her an uneasy smile and took the notebook back. “Yeah, you got me,” he said.

But it remained a losing battle, one that wasn’t helped by all the little distractions of his present condition. To say nothing of keeping an eye on Akane.

“You going to talk to her, Saotome?”

“Eh?” Ranma snapped out of the daydream he’d been falling into: it was free period, but like always, in the absence of a teacher, very little studying was getting done, and while he’d been zoning out, Hiroshi and Daisuke had taken up the recently-vacated seats next to him.

“You’ve been staring at Akane for five minutes now,” said Daisuke. “Not that I blame you: it’s like she’s a whole new person today or something.”

Hiroshi nodded. “Right? That little speech she gave earlier was a little intense, but it was still cool.”

Ranma thought about the unasked-for rescue and tried not to blush. It was cool, wasn’t it? “She’s not that different, is she? I mean, she’s always been pretty cool.” He said, twirling a stray lock of red hair around his finger.

Daisuke was amused. “She has, has she? Does this mean you two started getting along better over summer break?”

“What? No!” Ranma shook his head and folded his arms over his chest. “It’s not like that.”

“I dunno, that sounded like denial to me.” He nodded to his frequent partner in crime. “What do you think?”

“Methinks the lady complains a lot.”

“It’s ‘protests too much,’ dude.”

Hiroshi shrugged. “Whatever, it’s not important.”

“Your English grades say otherwise.”

“Don’t change the subject!” Hiroshi returned his attention to Ranma, who had been watching the unfolding dialog like a ping pong match. “C’mon, Saotome, did you two get up to something?”

“You can tell us!”

This was too much. Hiroshi and Daisuke were his friends, but they could be exasperating at the best of times, and right now the eagerness of their grilling was overwhelming. “I- there’s nothing to tell! Nothing happened!”

But Hiroshi clearly wasn’t satisfied. “Oh come on, spill it already!” He pulled Ranma into a playful headlock and gave him a noogie. “Confession is good for the-“

Akane’s hand slammed down in front of Hiroshi, startling all three of them. “Can’t you see Ranma’s a girl right now?” she said, staring down at him.

Hiroshi let go and gave Akane a sheepish smile. “Sure, of course. I just got carried away.”

“You’re in my seat. Maybe you should go study.”

“Definitely,” said Hiroshi, sweating.

“Great idea,” said Daisuke, who hadn’t moved a muscle.

As the two of them headed back to their seats, Ranma gave Akane a disapproving look. “You didn’t need to do that: they were just roughhousing like normal.”

Akane snorted. “He did see that you were a girl, right?”

And so the morning passed into midday. Ranma’s heart sank as Ms. Ishida reentered the classroom in her tracksuit, whistle on a lanyard around her neck. “All right, everyone get ready for gym: we’ll be doing it indoors today. Saotome, you can change in my office.”

“What?”

Ms. Ishida eyed him. “Obviously you can’t change here with the boys. And I assume you weren’t doing this to use the girl’s locker room, yes?”

“Of course not! It’s just…” He’d hoped he’d be able to think of a way to get out of it, but nothing had come to him and by now he was tired of making up excuses. “Yes, Ms. Ishida.”

After changing, Ranma went and rejoined his classmates assembled in the gym. Not for the first time did he wish that the girl’s PE uniform could be less… less , but being surrounded by other girls dressed the same, casually chatting with one another while the boys filed in, did serve to make things not so awkward. Lastly, Ms. Ishida and one of the boys arrived, carrying a large bag: she took the bag, dismissed him and led the class through the usual warm-up exercises.

Ranma was relieved to discover that these, at least, he could easily follow, and in fact, contrary to his worries, he was enjoying himself. Invigorating, but not strenuous, and even if it didn’t match the sense of focus he got from kata or the thrill of a sparring match, it was good to do something that made him feel in touch with his body again. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Okay,” said Ms. Ishida, once warm-ups were complete, “now, originally I was going to have you all do a run, but I figured that this is our first day back and  thought it’d be nice to ease back into things with something more fun, instead.”

Ranma breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness.

“Dodgeball,” she said with a smile. “Boys on that side of the gym, girls on the other. We’ll start on my signal.”

This was met with a chorus of griping from the boy’s side. “Hey, no fair!” said one. “The girls have all the martial artists on their side! We should at least have Saotome!”

“Traitor!” said another.

“Well he’s a girl right now, so deal with it!” came Yuka’s retort.

“Now, now, we don’t need to fight over this. It’s just a game, right?” Ranma said, but as so often seemed to be the case, nobody was listening to him.

Their teacher rubbed her temples. “If you all can’t behave I can just have you run laps around the school instead. Would you like that?” Everyone quieted down. “I didn’t think so.” She opened the bag of balls and placed it in the center of the gym, then stepped back. “Everyone ready? Go!”

Ranma bit his lip and tried to stay calm. This was just a game, after all, not a real fight: there wasn’t any reason for him to be nervous about this. But as everyone ran for the balls Ranma instead fought down panic and tried to stay out of their way. “Oh! Excuse me! No, you were here first!” He backed away, hoping to just blend into the background, but then a ball rolled to his foot. He could do this. He picked up the ball and tried to look for someone to throw it at.

“Get Saotome first!” yelled one boy, winding up for an overarm throw. All thought of offense fled and Ranma flinched, only for the boy to get pegged by someone behind him. She stepped forward, holding out the ball he’d discarded in his panic: it was Ukyou. 

“You dropped this.”

He took it from her. “Thanks, Ucchan.”

“You know I’ve always got your back, Ranchan,” she said with a wink, stepping in closer to him and lowering her voice, “Just stick close to me and you’ll be-”

A ball hit her in the stomach. From across the room came Hiroshi’s voice and the sound of a high five. “Nice throw, Daisuke!”

With Ukyou storming off, Ranma quickly found himself facing a flurry of balls being thrown in his direction. Ranma frantically ducked and dodged: that he avoided any of them was more due to luck and terrible aim on their part than anything, but after the third ball he was crouched down, arms over his head, a sitting duck.

“Look out!” In dove Akane, leaping directly into the path of a ball flying at him. She caught it, landed, spun in a full circle on one foot and launched it back across the court, beaning the one who threw it. “Ranma, be careful!”

Flustered as he was, heart racing, Ranma didn’t answer immediately. He looked up into Akane’s stern yet warm gaze and tried to think of something to say. His much-bruised pride wanted him to tell her that she didn’t need to jump in like that, that he could take care of himself, but it seemed so ridiculous when just a second before he’d been running in panic. “Akane, I-”

A ball bounced off of his head with a hollow ‘bonk’ sound and with that the moment was broken. “You’re on a roll, Daisuke!” Another high five.

Wordlessly and slightly disoriented, Ranma walked off the court and joined his other classmates who’d already been taken out. Ukyou was there waiting for him, leaning against the wall.

“Thanks for trying,” said Ranma.

“No problem.” She gave him a smile and squeezed his hand. “I meant what I said,” she continued, quiet enough not to be heard over the fracas, “I promise to do everything I can to make sure you get through this okay. You can trust me.”

“All right, Akane! Give those boys hell!” cheered one girl on the sidelines.

“Avenge us!” echoed another.

“Oh what now? ”

Ranma returned his attention to the game and watched Akane play with rising dread. By now the boys were focusing on her to the near exclusion of everyone else, but she avoided every throw with impossible ease, and in several cases sent the ball back where it came from at meteoric speeds.

“Dammit,” said Ukyou, “can’t she even try to keep a low profile? People are going to notice for sure!”

Were they, though?

The girls (and, increasingly, the boys) on the sidelines were cheering her on, obviously impressed by the display, but even though she was going all out nobody seemed surprised by her performance. Were they overreacting? Was this just normal to everyone else?

Ranma felt the color coming to his cheeks again. It had been easy to discount her abilities before, but as Ranma kept watching, he had to admit that she made it look natural. There was something right about it, seeing her move with grace and strength and... intent. That was it. Intent. She knew what she was doing, and that sense of purpose was what set Ranma's heart fluttering. Not her fierceness, or the way the muscles in her legs tensed with each sidestep, each casual catch and effortlessly perfect throw.

He thought about the argument they'd had a few days ago, about the two of them training together. He worried about hurting her, but had he been holding her back this whole time? Could she have been this capable, if only she'd been given the right training and encouragement?"

“Akane, you can do it! You're incredible! Keep fighting! I believe in you!" The words were out of his mouth before he knew it, and his cheer that followed them was as genuine as the silence that followed it was utter.

Everyone - everyone - stopped watching the game and looked at him. Akane stared like he'd grown a second head, making a frantic ‘knock it off!’ gesture while everyone’s attention was off her... and then another ball whizzed across the room, bouncing off of her shoulder and away in a random direction. "Come on, Hiroshi, that wasn't cool," said Daisuke. "Read the room."

The rest of the game was comparatively uneventful.

The end of gym meant lunch time. Back in the classroom Ranma sat down and pulled his bento from out of his desk. Next to him Akane did the same, joined shortly by Yuka and Sayuri. When Akane opened her lunch she, Yuka and Sayuri all stared at it in disbelief.

“Uh, Akane? Is Kasumi mad at you two or something?”

A half-sheet of nori. Plain rice, a small broiled fish laid across it diagonally. Nothing else, not even a single pickle. Ranma sank in his chair. He told himself at the time that he was being practical but looking at it again it was obvious how overboard he’d gone trying not to go overboard. Akane caught his guilty expression, groaned and started eating without a word. “I think you’re onto something, Sayuri,” said Yuka with a smirk.

“I’m surprised: she always puts so much care into her cooking.”

Ranma squirmed miserably in his chair.

Yuka nodded. “You’re right. Remember the dishes she brought to the flower viewing party last year?”

“Oh, right! That was so good!”

“Something really must have made her upset for her to do this. I wonder what it could be?”

Akane’s eyebrow twitched, shooting Ranma a glare while her friends were distracted, waxing rapturous about Kasumi’s wonderful cooking. Ranma just put his head in his hands and tried to ignore the feeling that he’d let everyone down. “Yeah, I wonder,” she said, still looking at him. “Maybe she was trying too hard to prove something.”

“Now that’s not fair,” said Ukyou, putting a casual but comforting hand on Ranma’s shoulder. “I bet she had something else on her mind that she had to give her attention, and she just didn’t have the time to do anything fancy.” She sat down next to him and tousled his hair. “Maybe we should stop putting so much pressure on her and just appreciate her for how much she does?”

Yuka and Sayuri looked at one another, confused. “Sure, I guess.”

Akane scowled. “Oh yeah? Well, maybe you should butt out of things that aren’t your business!”

This was getting bad again. “Akane…” Ranma started, but Ukyou spoke for herself.

“How about you don’t try to tell me what is and isn’t my business?”

Yuka and Sayuri exchanged looks again, seeming absolutely lost.

Ranma bit his lip: this was looking bad. Again. Did everything always have to be on the verge of a fight? “Akane,” he said, gently disapproving, “she didn’t mean anything by it. You don’t need to be upset about this.”

Akane’s answer was a growl of frustration, followed by grabbing him by the hand. “Come on!” she said: he barely had time to get to his feet before she dragged him out of the classroom.

As Akane pulled him down the hall and into a presently-empty classroom Ranma wondered to himself if the experience was something he’d ever get used to. “Akane,” he said, rubbing his shoulder after she let him go, “what was that for?”

“What do you mean, ‘what was that for?’ Are you blind or something?” She was pacing. “She was all over you and you were just sitting there!”

“All over me? She was just trying to be nice and you overreacted.”

“Oh, sure,” she said, sarcastically, “she was just trying to be nice, just like when she jumped in when I was explaining things this morning, or when she just had to play knight in shining armor during dodgeball, right?”

“Akane, you jumped in when I was trying to explain things to Ms. Ishida, you came running to my rescue at gym, and you almost attacked Hiroshi!” He sighed. This wasn’t helping. “Look, please calm down. You were the one telling me that I needed to relax about this or we’d be found out, but all day you’ve been snarling at everyone.”

“This is different! I’d be able to relax if you could go five minutes without freezing up because someone asked you a question or tried to hit on you. Instead I’m trying to keep you from getting us caught and stop people trying to take advantage of you!”

“Take advantage of me?” Ranma bristled: he was trying to be calm and understanding but it wasn’t working. “Akane, let’s make something clear. I don’t need a protector. I don’t need you holding my hand and fighting off everyone who so much as looks at me. I’m not helpless , okay?”

“You don’t need protection? Fine .” Without warning she slammed her hand against the wall, inches away from his head, blocking the path to the door. Ranma’s heart thudded in his chest. “Stop me,” she said calmly, looking down at him. 

She was taller than he was in his girl form. There was nothing new there: they’d both done a little growing in the last two years but it hadn’t changed things. But right now it felt like she towered over him, and the coolness of her expression, the confident command - the intent - behind her every action, made his mouth go dry, his cheeks flush, made him tremble with anticipation.

No, that wasn’t right, this was frightening, it wasn’t-

Something occurred to him.

“Stop you from what?” he asked, confused and, to his chagrin, a little disappointed.

She was just standing there. She’d pinned him, yes, and it was clear that if he was going to get away from her it’d be with her permission, but she was just standing there. And now that he’d asked it seemed that this occurred to her too, because it was her turn to blush again. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but nothing came out for a moment. Then, “I wasn’t gonna - I didn’t mean I would-” She sputtered like that for another second or two before they were interrupted by the scrape of a desk getting pushed.

When they turned to look they saw a nervous-looking first year student with an oboe who was looking through his desk. “Sorry for interrupting,” he said as he pulled something out and pocketed it, “I was just looking for the reed for this. I’ll, uh, let you get back to what you were doing.”

“Nice going, Mitsuwa.”

“Shh!”

That was the small cluster of students watching from the doorway, that neither Akane nor Ranma had noticed. And before either of them could say anything (and right when Akane realized that her hand was still on the wall), the bell rang.

Ranma spent the rest of the school day trying not to make eye contact with Akane and not to think about what the rumor mill was going to make of the two of them getting caught together like that. A small eternity later the last bell rang, heralding the end of the school day. He stood from his desk and stretched. After the events of the day he didn’t care that he was looking forward to going home and taking care of dinner. “ Finally . Let’s go, Akane.”

    But when he looked over at Akane she was still seated, smiling and looking in a much better mood than she’d been in before. “You know, Ranma, we don’t have to go right away. In fact, maybe it’d be a good idea to wait.”

Ranma blinked. ”It would?”

She nodded. “Think about it. We know Kuno’s going to be waiting for us, right? Why not find something else to do to wait him out, and then we can go home afterwards?”

“Okay, but what would we do? Neither of us are in a club or anything.”

“Well, for starters…” Akane tilted her head in the direction of the front of the room, where a distinctly unimpressed-looking Ukyou, who was in charge of cleaning duty today, was talking to one of their classmates. Ogawa, that was his name: stocky, buzzcut, in the literature club.

“Come on, please? It’s the only day she’s free before the tickets expire. You get it, don’t you Kuonji?”

“Not happening. Aomori already snuck off without finding a replacement: it’s not fair to leave clean-up to the rest of us.”

Ranma bit his lip. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Akane waved a hand dismissively. “It’ll be fine, Ranma. Ukyou and I can make sure you don’t end up getting carried away.”

“What, so now you trust her?”

“I was wrong, okay? You were right, I was overreacting and I should trust her.”

“But what about dinner?”

“It doesn’t take that long to make, does it? And anyway,” she added, “it’s not like you haven’t skipped out on helping out in the past. Why not make up for it while you can at least enjoy it.”

She wasn’t wrong there: he pretty much always ditched when it was his turn to help out. He should help out. “Ucchan,” Ranma called out, “I can take his place.”

Ukyou frowned. “Now wait just a minute here.”

But Ogawa was already on his way out the door. “You mean it?” said Ogawa, grinning with gratitude. “Thanks, Saotome, you’re the best!”

    “Well,” Ukyou said, ruefully, “I guess that settles that, Ranchan.  Why don’t you do the windows and we’ll see where we are from there?” she said, handing him a cloth.

That sounded simple enough: he could take care of that and then go home with a clean conscience. And it wouldn’t take long, either. After all, they looked fine as it was and would only need a simple wipe-down.

Although… now that he had a closer look he could see that the grooves they slotted into hadn’t seen nearly as much regular attention and were pretty filthy. Easy enough to overlook. Handle that first, then. The corner of the cloth would be perfect for the job with a little elbow grease. Push hard to work it all the way in there. It didn’t bring on quite the same sense of contentment that he got from taking care of the home - he was a little too aware of his classmates to really get comfortable - but it was a satisfying challenge, something he could apply himself to. There. Much better.

Next were the windows, but the cleaning cloth wasn’t really right for that. Newspaper, that’s what he needed, that way he wouldn’t be leaving streaks. He grabbed a copy of the school paper from near the doorway and got to work, humming a little ditty under his breath.  Soon enough they were done too, and then he was looking for something else to do.

“Here, let me take care of that,” he said to a classmate about to pick up a broom after they’d finished pushing the desks out of the way. She handed it off to him with a shrug and he got to work, sweeping with a practiced eye. Like with the windows it was a simple task, even simpler since he wasn’t doing it alone. And once that was done mopping would be a breeze, and then maybe he could see about helping out in the hallway? Or the bathroom. One of them, anyway.

Daisuke, leaning on a mop, whistled. “Wow, Saotome. If you’re this good, how come you’re always leaving this to the rest of us?”

“Oh it’s nothing, really,” Ranma said with a smile.

“You sure about that? I mean, that’s a third of the classroom you’ve done by yourself.”

And now Ranma noticed that Daisuke wasn’t the only one watching him. Far from it. So much for not getting comfortable. “I was making up for lost time?” he offered.

“I’ll say,” said someone else.

“That training of yours is really paying off, Ranma!” said Ukyou hurrying back in from talking to someone out in the hall.

Daisuke’s brow wrinkled. “That was training?”

Ukyou nodded. “Yup!” she said, a little too cheerfully, as she walked up and took the mop from his hands. “But maybe that’s enough for now. You don’t need to show off for all of us. Why don’t you and Akane head on home?”

“Akane already left,” said Sayuri.

“What?!?”

“Yeah, she said something about needing to drop off a form with the guidance counselor and then take care of an errand. Oh! She told me to ask you to wait for her to get back, Ranma.”

Ranma looked over at Akane’s desk, saw that her bag was missing, and narrowed his eyes. “Kuno.”

Ukyou’s eyes widened. “Wait, Kuno’s back?”

Ranma had lost track of how many times he’d been the center of attention today. No matter what he did he couldn’t seem to avoid it. He just wanted to be out of the spotlight and for people to stop fussing over him. “I’m going home, Ucchan.”

“Ranchan, hold on! Give me just a second and I’ll walk you home.”

“It’s fine, Ukyou.”

“Ranma, if Kuno is out there-”

“I said it’s fine! I can take care of myself: I don’t need either of you protecting me.” And with that he hurried out of the classroom before the outrageous way he was acting caught up to him and he lost his nerve.

As Ranma made his way outside he quickly found his anger evaporating and being replaced once more with worry. This was a bad idea. Not going home: going home was the smartest thing he could do right now. No, the bad idea was coming to school to begin with. He didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know how to act, everything had gone wrong and as soon as he left Kuno would be hounding him. Maybe, he thought as he headed down the stairs, maybe he should just go back to class and wait for Akane. That’d be safest.

“No.” He balled his hands into fists and felt silly for doing so, which only made him do it tighter, and strode through the hallway with a swagger so exaggerated that he was sure he was doing it wrong. He just had to walk home. It wasn’t far, and he’d been pretty delayed by clean-up: maybe Akane would be right and Kuno would’ve gone home already? 

And even if not, she was wrong about him. He wasn’t a pushover, he just… didn’t feel at home with being rude right now. And that was fine! All he had to do was be firm. Polite, but firm: Kuno would respect that. He could do this.

When he got outside Kuno was standing in front of a limousine and the bouquet of yellow and gold flowers he was carrying made the ones he’d had that morning look downright miserly: students either hurried by and tried not to make eye contact or stopped and stared at the spectacle. “Pigtailed Girl! At last! I’d begun to worry that I’d missed you somehow,” he called out as he approached. “But surely the heavens would permit no such misalignment of destiny. Come, let us depart from these meager surroundings, that I might take you away from all of this to a place more worthy of a maiden of your magnificence.”

“Hey, be nice! This is a pretty good school!” said someone in the crowd.

“Yeah, what’d we ever do to you?” said another girl, making a face as she walked by.

He couldn’t do this.

No! He swallowed his anxiousness and drew himself up to his full height. He’d told him off before, he could do it again. “I thought I told you to b-buzz off, Kuno!” God, he was being so impolite . “Now would you mind- I mean,” he shook his head, “get outta my way so I can go home.”

Kuno laughed. “Oh, my flame-tressed angel, there’s no need to be coy. Your bluster is as obvious as it is unnecessary. Surely anyone can see the meekness you are masking, the gentle poise in your every movement, why, the ladylike grace of your very aura! To one such as I it was obvious at first glance: why do you seek to hide such a splendid metamorphosis?”

A buzz rose as the crowd started to mutter. “Huh. He has been acting kinda weird today, hasn’t he?”

“He really has.”

“Did you hear about what happened at lunch?”

Try as he might, Ranma couldn’t keep from blushing. Why did it have to be him who noticed what was going on? And why couldn’t he keep his mouth shut? “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kuno. Nothing’s changed. Now can you please let me go?” He winced: ‘please’ was a mistake.

“Why of course!” Kuno pressed the bouquet (primroses, tulips, begonias and, Ranma noticed, a single daffodil with a bent stem) into his arms and put an arm around his shoulder, steering him towards the car waiting at the curb. “I have planned for us an evening of romance that will never be forgotten, and you may absolutely go.” He gestured grandly with his free hand. “Imagine: a private outing on the family boat. Taking in a play at the theater. A sumptuous feast at the finest Italian restaurant to be found between the Arakawa and Kyuedo rivers, near which may be found a ferris wheel, that afterwards we may ride together and contemplate our love.  And last: dancing! Not to brag,” he added, with the air of a man revealing his trump card, “but I’ve been studying the dances of the Latin world and my instructor assures me that my Flamenco is nothing short of superb.”

The whole time Kuno was talking Ranma kept opening his mouth to interject, but such was the force of his bombast that he kept getting overwhelmed. There had to be something he could say, didn’t there? They were halfway to the car before Ranma found an objection he was comfortable with. “But I’m not really dressed to go out tonight, Kuno.” Inspiration struck! He gave him his politest smile. “Why don’t I just go home to get changed, freshen myself up and meet up with you there?”

Kuno stopped in his tracks and considered this. “Mmm, yes. Charming though the uniform may be, evoking a nostalgia for days long by-”

“Didn’t you go here last year?” asked someone in the crowd. Kuno ignored them.

“-it is perhaps lacking in the requisite glamor for an event such as this.” He let go of Ranma to stroke his chin thoughtfully, but Ranma had only crept a few steps away from him when he slammed his fist into the palm of his hand. “I have it! There is a dressmaker my sister has called upon in the past for special occasions, quite skilled indeed, and while she is utterly mad, her sartorial sensibilities are perfectly sound. I’m sure we could prevail upon her to create something appropriate: it would make for a fine memento, don’t you think?”

“But-”

“Then it’s settled!” And again Kuno put his arm around his shoulder. “Your chariot awaits, madame.”

“HEY, YOU! HANDS OFF MY GIRLFRIEND!”

Ranma, pulled out of his daze, looked in the direction of the shout. A young man stood on the steps, short and slender but menacing in demeanor. His jacket was unbuttoned, letting his white dress shirt show through, the collar upturned. He was wearing a bandanna on which the words “BRING IT ON!” had been written. But far and away the most noteworthy thing about him was his pompadour haircut, the quiff extended to parodic length: the overall impression was of a delinquent trying much too hard to be taken seriously. He marched forward and took Ranma by the wrist, pulling him away from Kuno and placing himself between the two of them, as imposing as any man could be when a foot shorter than the one he faced. “You think you can just walk off with my girl like that?”

Ranma took one look at Akane and didn’t know if he wanted to swoon or slap his forehead. Murmurs of confusion rippled through the crowd.

“Who’s that? Does he go here?”

“He’s wearing the uniform.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure I’d recognize that haircut if I’d seen it before.”

“Wait, Saotome has a boyfriend?”

Kuno recovered from his momentary surprise. “Your… girl? Surely you jest.”

“Like hell I do! Are you deaf or something? Everybody here knows better than to put the moves on her!”

Kuno shook his head. “It seems that I have been away too long indeed, for such curs to act so boldly. You cannot possibly believe that you are worthy of a maiden like the Pigtailed Girl, do you? One so pure and radiant, the very essence of the female flower in full bloom?”

Akane blushed and took a step back, caught off-guard by the question. “Uh, I mean, y-yeah, of course I am!” She puffed herself up, back on firmer ground. “I guess you should’ve moved when you had the chance, huh?”

“Your lies are transparent, ruffian. The Pigtailed Girl I know would never deign to…” he trailed off, doubt casting a pall across his face for the first time. “Her heavenly transformation.” 

He turned his attention to Ranma again. “My goddess, say that it is not so! Can it be that this lout is the one for whom you yearn, who has quenched your fire with the storm of his wretched, crude machismo?” He pointed to Akane, “Tell me, I implore you, tell me that you are not dating this thug!”

The first thing that came out of Ranma’s mouth was a squeak. He was beyond embarrassed, beyond mortified, cast into some transcendent plane of the pure torment of the public’s lurid fascination. What was he supposed to say? “I… well… it’s not as simple as…”

The pall vanished as quickly as it had arrived. “Hah! I knew it! And here I’d hoped that the absence of the sorcerer Saotome boded well: to think that another would so quickly take his place, to work his dark designs upon my lady love.”

Akane cracked her knuckles. “Oh yeah? And what’re you gonna do about it? Touch her again and I’ll break your hands!”

“Is that so?” Kuno looked down at her, clearly unmoved by her intimidating display. “Perhaps you might frighten others, but I am not one to heed the barking of strays.” He raised his bokken, pointing it at her. “Step aside, and I shall forgive you your foolishness this once: let it not be said that I am incapable of mercy. If not, I will show you the justice of heaven itself.”

“You’d better get that toy out of my face, unless you want me to feed it to you!” Akane’s grin was feral. Ranma just tried not to die of secondhand embarrassment. The gathered crowd backed up to give the three of them enough space for the fight that would probably break out in a moment.

Kuno regarded her with a raised eyebrow, if not taken aback then at least curious. “Do you truly not know the legend that you face? Has enough time passed that my name has been lost to the rank and file of this school, or are you simply ignorant?” Kuno smirked. “Very well, allow me to enlighten you. But pay heed: I disdain repeating myself.”

“You really don’t have to,” said Akane, dropping the affectation for a moment.

Kuno didn’t notice. “A rising star in the college Kendo circuit, whose strength rivals that of the gods! My voice alone can silence a frightened child,”

“No, really, I know who you are.”

“-and for this reason I have chosen to major in early childhood education,” said Kuno, never a man to allow interruptions to his monologuing. “Unconquered in battle, peerless in love, I am known as the Blazing Phoenix of Tokyo Gakugei! Tatewaki Kuno, age nineteen.”

It was Ranma who found his voice first this time. “Early childhood education?”

Kuno nodded. “Of course. It is of the utmost importance that the next generation is well-prepared to take part in society, and what better role model could they have than me?” And then, a scowl. “But let us set aside discussing my plans for our future together for the moment: I have given my name, but this cowardly wretch has yet to identify himself. Are you ignorant of custom, or merely awestruck into silence by the sight of your obvious superior? Speak, that we may do battle!”

Akane gave a snort. “It’s Ten…” she stopped herself: Ranma watched her cast her gaze about for inspiration. Clearly she hadn’t thought this far ahead. Then, “…ma! Tenma Aki, Aki… Akihiko!” Deciding that this needed something more for impact, she shook a fist at him. “And don’t you forget it!”

“Tenma Akihiko.” He said the name with distaste. “Tonight I will burn incense in your memory, in the hopes that your next life is one more auspicious. Have at you!” And with that he lunged at Akane with a thrust of his sword, only for her to catch it between her hands. He grit his teeth and tried to wrest it free, but her grip was firm and it didn’t move.

Akane treated him to another grin. “What’s the matter, Kuno? Not expecting a real fight?” She drove him back with a kick to the stomach, losing her hold on the sword in the process. “Ranma,” she said, over her shoulder, “get back! I can’t do this if I have to protect you too.” Ranma, petrified by the sudden outburst of violence, nevertheless did as she said and backed away from the two of them, ending up standing with the gathered onlookers.

But while Kuno was stunned it was only a momentary thing. “Fah.” He recovered and took his sword in both hands. “If you think that the Blazing Phoenix would fall to as underhanded a tactic as that, you are gravely mistaken.”

Akane was incredulous. “Underhanded? What’s underhanded? You attacked me first!”

“Enough talk! Defend yourself, if you can!” A thrust, two more, five more, faster and faster they came until he and his sword were a blur and a breeze picked up around him, gathering intensity as he advanced.

Akane fell back (and the crowd backed away from the both of them), twisting and jumping out of the way of each strike, but she was still smiling. “I bet you think this is fast, don’t you? I can’t believe I ever thought you were a serious fight. I’ve got news for you: this is nothing.”

“What nonsense is this?” Kuno redoubled his efforts, but beads of sweat were forming on his brow. “Is this not the first time we’ve crossed paths?”

“Oh, something like that,” she said cryptically, still dodging.

“And I suppose you fled from me then as well. Face me, you coward!” He lunged forward with a growl of frustration but she vaulted over him, leaving him to stumble off-balance.

She stretched both arms behind her back before turning to face him again. “Oh don’t worry, I will. I just want to make sure you know how outclassed you are first.”

“No, Akane, what are you doing?” Ranma muttered under his breath. This was exactly what he was afraid of.

“Did you say Akane?” It was Hiroshi: Ranma only now realized that he and Daisuke were standing next to him. “She’s gotten good at this.”

Ranma frantically tried to shush him. “Please! Keep your voice down!” But the damage had been done.

“Did he say Akane?”

“Is that her?

“It is!”

“What’s with the disguise?”

Locked in combat, neither Akane nor Kuno seemed to have heard the crowd. Kuno was swinging wildly now, nostrils flaring, face red, and Akane leaped and ducked around his efforts. “Blast you, damnable runt! Do you even know how to fight?” Another swing and she rolled away from him, bounding onto her feet with a mocking gesture. “How dare you!” He charged at her full-tilt. “Face me for real, if you-”

The moment he was in reach she snatched the bokken from his hands, throwing it up into the air: his eyes instinctively followed it. “Sure, but only because you asked nicely.” She put her hands together in front of her, and in between them there was a steadily-growing ball of energy. Ranma’s eyes widened, but before he could say anything Akane unfolded them at Kuno. “Fierce Tiger’s Pride!”

There was a brilliant glare of white light and the sound of thunder. The ki blast, fueled by her limitless confidence, sent Kuno flying over the roof across the street and off into the distance. But he’d been so close when she did it that the shockwave also knocked Akane off of her feet: she landed only a short distance away from Ranma, the wig blown clean from her head and her dress shirt torn open, revealing her tightly (if inexpertly) bound breasts.

Everything was quiet, but only for a second. Then, excited whispers and muttering passed through the crowd as they tried to figure out what exactly had just happened, followed by a deluge of questions, too many to make out, let alone answer. Nevertheless, Ranma tried to quiet them all down. “Everyone, please, I know - please, will you - if you could just-”

Akane shook off her dizziness and pulled herself to her feet. “Will everyone be quiet already?” she shouted, pulling the jacket closed. “Nothing happened! I’ve just been training over summer, that’s all!”

“Nobody said anything happened.”

Akane’s eyebrow twitched and she looked guilty for a second. “Good! Because nothing happened.”

The crowd looked at her, posture cocky, glaring, daring anyone to say something, then at Ranma, standing meekly behind her (and he hadn’t even meant to hide behind her), index fingers tapping together, still blushing. Back at Akane. Back at Ranma. At the two together.

“Hey, Saotome.” It was Hiroshi.

“Yes?”

“Do a flip.”

“What?”

“A flip. Can you show me one?” The crowd watched, waiting expectantly.

Ranma rubbed the back of his neck with a sickly smile. “Well, you see, the thing about that is… uh… n-not in this uniform?”

Judging by the uproar that followed, nobody believed him.

“I said I was sorry!” said Akane as they took their usual route home alongside the canal. She was walking on the fence again. Neither of them said anything about it.

“I know you’re sorry,” said Ranma, without rancor. It was the first thing he’d said to her since she’d pulled him away from their classmates - he made a silent promise that when this was all over he would never drag anyone anywhere ever again - so they could walk home. She’d apologized shortly thereafter but they’d walked in silence since then.

“You’re not going to give me the silent treatment for this, are you? I know I messed up and I know you’re angry with me, but that ain’t fair.”

“I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed.” And he meant it. He expected to be angry with her. He knew he should be angry with her. But trying to hold onto it was exhausting and also, when he thought about it, pretty pointless. After all, she’d only done what he would’ve done under the circumstances. “Anyway, there’s nothing we can do about it. Everybody knows.”

“Well I’m sorry! It’s just…” she looked down and away from him, over the water. “Kuno was never going to just go away because we talked to him. When he first started hounding me to date him I tried to tell him not to, and then he went and made that stupid speech. He didn’t listen then and he hasn’t changed since, and I, you know,” she trailed off again. “Look, I just didn’t want you to have to put up with that while we’ve got this spell to deal with.”

He nodded. “So you decided to trick me so you could sneak out behind my back and fight him while I was distracted.”

Akane stumbled but quickly regained her footing, if not her composure. “Hey!” she said, full of bluster, “That’s not- it wasn’t…” and then a sigh. “I didn’t plan to fight him. That’s why I had the disguise: I was gonna try to scare him off by pretending to be your crazy boyfriend.”

They came to a crosswalk and Akane hopped down from the fence. “You didn’t steal the wig from the theater department, did you?” Ranma asked while they waited. “They got awfully mad at me about that after a while.”

“I was going to return it! Anyway , the disguise took a little longer than I’d expected it to, and when I got there he was already tryin’ to drag you off, and I just…” She looked away again.

Ranma was hesitant to ask. “You just what?”

“I mean, I couldn’t let him, could I? Who knows what he would’ve done? And then we were fighting, and it just felt so good to finally get to be the one making it look easy to kick his butt for a change that I…”

“That you got carried away and couldn’t resist showing off.”

Akane hung her head. “Yeah.”

“I told you that this would happen,” Ranma said, unable to keep a certain amount of prim disapproval out of his voice.

“Fine, you were right! Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Ranma sighed. They were almost home and he didn’t want to be arguing with her when they got through the door. “That’s not what I meant, Akane. It’s a fight, and you were going with your gut. Which I guess is my gut, and I know my gut, even if it’s not my gut right now. I wouldn’t be able to keep from gloating either.”

They passed through the gateway and made their way up the path to the house. “Well,” said Akane, “I guess we’ll have to see how things work out tomorrow, won’t we?”

“Yeah.” They took off their shoes at the entryway and stepped inside. “We’re home!” Ranma called out.

“Oh good,” came Nabiki’s voice, “you’re back. We’re in the dining room, if you don’t mind.”

Waiting for them when they got there were Nabiki, Kasumi, Shampoo and Cologne: the three young women were seated around the table, Shampoo and Kasumi at opposite ends, occasionally giving one another sullen looks with Nabiki sitting between them, while Cologne was sitting by the porch with her pipe. She took a puff, then exhaled. “There you are, son-in-law. I heard you had a run-in with the Kitsune Sutra. Why don’t we talk about that?”