Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Akane has downed two tall glasses of water and is currently making every effort to not reach for the full cup of saké Mina just poured for her.

It surprises her. This sudden need to reach for the bitter liquid to numb and dull her feelings, to stop the gnawing in her mind and her heart. 

Because unlike some of her fellow first years, alcohol is not particularly a vice of hers — Akane prides herself in remaining lucid and in control at all times.

So it surprises her. This pull . 

And she resists it. 

She resists it because an actual vice of hers happens to be sitting in front of her. And she doesn’t need inebriants in her blood clouding her judgement and reality even further. 

Ranma is doing a great job at that already.  

They’re still at the bar, still with her university friends. And Akane is still stuck on him randomly lamenting about the “real pain in the ass” after her rant at upperclassman Haruto. 

Was he referring to her? What did he mean? Why would he say that? So she defends him and he laughs it off by mocking her in front of her friends? Old habits die hard? 

Or was he referring to the “cute” “ real pain in the ass” that’s got him wrapped around her finger? Could it be that he meant…

No, that would make no sense. 

There’s no way. 

Akane’s thoughts continue to spiral until Aiko speaks in what looks like an attempt to diffuse the situation. 

“So what brings you into the city, Saotome?” she asks, looking sly. She hasn’t stopped smirking since Ranma spoke earlier, as if she’s in on some secret. As if she knows something Akane doesn’t. “One of your competitions?”

“Something like that.” Ranma says with a little shrug, his eyes squarely on Akane. 

He’s still smiling, but it’s less smug than earlier. He looks bashful again. He looks unsure. 

He just won’t stop confusing her. 

“That’s so cool! Do you get to travel and compete internationally? Have you been to Europe? Or America?!”

“Eh. Not yet. Not that I want to, really,” he says. “I was in China recently though. But it wasn’t really for a tournament.”

Oh. 

Akane slumps in her chair.

Training? Or Shampoo? 

Akane imagines that Shampoo’s tribe likely has traditions that would require Ranma to eventually make the trip if he’s serious about marrying her. (When did he make up his mind? How? Why? Akane doesn’t want to think about that, so she focuses on logistics in her mind).

That would explain the silence over the months. It would explain the ring currently on Ranma’s finger. 

It would explain all the phone calls to her and Nabiki’s shared college apartment. It would explain her father Soun suddenly needing to “talk to her”, Nabiki’s “sounds kinda serious” relaying of messages from Kasumi, and even the pity filled undertones in Nodoka-san’s letters about ‘missing Akane and wishing she could see her. Just them girls’.

It would explain Ranma suddenly calling their apartment almost every week for the past month, barely deterred by Nabiki’s nonsensical excuses — (“Akane is out walking her two turtles. Akane fell into a well and is in the feudal era right now. Akane started a part-time job as a bodyguard to this Thai mafia boss in Bangkok, so she can’t come to the phone right now”). 

Akane can’t really remember the last time she had a full conversation with anyone from back home —her high school friends included. She’d made it a goal to never be at the apartment when anyone who might know anything about Ranma called, too scared to finally hear the words she already knew to be true: their “engagement” was off.

So it all makes sense now. 

Ranma is marrying Shampoo. 

(Is that why he was holding Ukyo in his arms all those months ago? Another parting gift? He’s just been bestowing those on all the girls he never mustered up the courage to reject?). 

And he’s here in Tokyo on a chilly Saturday night bar-hopping with her friends to officially break up the engagement, because Akane won’t pick up his calls. 

He probably colluded with Nabiki to find her, too. 

“Oh, where in China?” Aiko asks, hurtling the conversation along, unaware of the tearing to Akane’s heart. 

“Hm. Qinghai province.” 

Akane jolts in her chair again. 

Oh.

Jusenkyo. 

Ranma went to Jusenkyo. 

He went to Jusenkyo to cure his “curse”.

He probably went with Shampoo, as she can’t imagine any of it working if she continues turning into a cat, given Ranma’s phobia.

Akane’s family was calling her to let her know that it finally happened. That he finally managed to… 

Her mind is immediately flooded with fresh color and sound.

Soft trilling and purring sounds. Red mussed up bangs glowing in the afternoon sun. Cheeks tinged with pink at the ice cream parlor. Face scrunched up in unbridled joy while gobbling sundaes. Short yet strong arms holding her firmly as they leaped in the wind. 

Akane’s throat feels tight with fear and grief. 

Oh no. Please. 

I didn’t get to say goodbye. 

She feels her eyes prickle with early signs of tears. She feels overcome with misplaced woe.

She should be happy for him. This has been the one and only thought in his mind since she met him. Through all of their ups and downs, this has been the one constant, the one goal. Finding a “cure” to his “curse”. He tossed her aside and toppled all over her feelings countless times in pursuit of the “cure”. 

The “cure” to the “curse” she’s grown to not mind — (did you ever?) — and then maybe to love like.

She should feel relieved that she no longer needs to feel guilty for costing him all those other opportunities to be “cured” —every time he dropped everything to save her life, his hero complex alive and well— and “stupid, Akane. You just always have to go and do that, don’t you?”.  

(Her first and last trip to Jusenkyo, still an open wound. She sometimes thinks about his words to her that day. “I wanted the water for you, Akane.” Liar.)

She should be happy for him. But her heart still feels tight. She met him in his “cursed” form first. He broke her heart in that very body last. She can’t imagine never seeing him in his girl form again. She can’t imagine him no longer taunting her with his “perfect proportions” and his love for disguise and wigs and dresses. 

She realizes that she never imagined he would actually rid himself of his other half. She realizes that she’s been holding onto hope that she’d get to have him like that once more. Unabashed but kind, without his armor and his prickly exterior. Quiet afternoons in her new apartment as good friends. His red hair all over the new rug she unconsciously picked while thinking about him lying on it. His short legs dangling off her kitchen counter while she’d attempt to make them tea, his head likely hitting the cupboards. It surprises her, this mundane fantasy. It brings tears to her eyes. 

Akane realizes she’d somehow convinced herself he’d eventually give it up. Finding a “cure”. Because when he rid himself of all his bravado —usually in the confines of her room— he didn’t seem to mind.

Her heart twists in her chest at all of this new information, her insides churning from the self-inflicted whiplash. She grips her stomach, hunching over. 

“Akane, are you okay?” Mina asks her, noticing her sudden discomfort.

“Hm. Yeah I’m fine,” Akane waves her off, attempting a smile. “It must be the food from earlier.”

Ranma doesn’t miss his chance. “Oh no. Did you accidentally eat something you cooked, Akane?” he asks her, and he’s back to looking cheeky. 

She can’t quite help it. She shoots her foot under the table to connect with his shin, hoping no one will notice. 

Ranma catches it before it makes contact, his hand light around her ankle, his eyes on hers, his gaze now more mellow, his brows closer together. He probably noticed the stupid tears in her eyes. 

Great. He’s making fun of her cooking while she withers away on the inside because of the color of his hair, and the size of his hands, and the shape of his bust.

She won’t cry. No, she won’t. 

Akane glares at him instead, hoping it wills away the sob stuck in her throat.

Ranma surprises her by moving her foot to rest it on his knee, keeping it there instead of releasing it back, trapping her foot in the palm of his hand. 

A question in his eyes, “what’s wrong?” 

An answer in hers, “nothing, you jerk.”  

She tries to take her foot back. She tries to ignore the thrill of being touched by him again, even over the leather of her shoes. But Ranma just holds her foot there under the table, his eyes on hers still, a tacit warning in them: ‘if you wanna land a hit, you’re gonna have to do it publicly’.

She wants to take him up on it so bad. She’s already erupted at her upperclassman and stomped all over her easygoing image. What further damage is one childish scuffle with Ranma going to cause?

But then he surprises her again. 

Akane suddenly feels his thumb press the inside of her ankle over her leather boot, immediately halting all of her thoughts. 

She squeaks, too stunned to move. She hopes no one heard her over the music blaring at the bar. But he did. Of course he did. He’s staring right at her.

Ranma presses his thumb more firmly, as though testing that the squeak was really for him. And when Akane jolts and brings a hand to her mouth to stop herself from screaming, he moves his under the table to secure her foot over his knee once more. 

He then averts his gaze, seemingly satisfied with her reaction and now turning his head to pay attention to whatever Aiko is saying. Leaving Akane buzzing in her own skin. The jerk. 

Ranma must be tipsy because since when does he touch her so gratuitously? 

He’s now drawing little circles over the protruding bone of her ankle, his other hand reaching for his beer, chugging it like it’s a challenge. 

Circles. Just lazy circles, pressing his thumb over her medial malleolus (a bone whose name she only recalls because of all the damage over the years and her visits to Dr. Tofu). Taunting her. 

And he’s smiling now. He’s smiling at Aiko while touching her under the table, and he has the audacity to look sheepish through it all, like he can’t believe his own actions. 

She feels taut with nerves, and panic, and something else she won’t admit to even to herself. 

She remains speechless in her seat while he draws his circles. She stays there until he eventually steals a glance in her direction. It immediately sends ripples through her and snaps her back into herself. 

She moves to make another surreptitious attempt at retrieving her now tingling leg. But this time, Ranma’s hand —his obnoxiously large hand— comes up to wrap around her bare calf, skin on skin, and she just… yelps. 

She yelps and then she kicks him at last, their audience forgotten.

“You jerk!” she yells for everyone to hear as he crouches down over his chair to hold his shin. 

She pushes herself off the table and comes to standing, wobbly knees at all, then excuses herself to the bathroom. 

.

Ranma follows her. 

Of course he does.

She trudges along looking for the bathroom. She’s too disoriented and out of breath to care about what her classmates are going to think of her storming off after kicking her “neighbor” under the table, and him following her.

She didn’t need to look back to know that he immediately leaped out of his seat to chase after her —he can never leave his seat like a normal person. Akane imagines that he’s feeling restless, as he’s not one to sit still and just listen to people talk for that long. 

She can feel him a step behind her. She can almost hear the whirring in his brain. She stops and turns around when she knows he’s about to grab her. She can’t let him touch her again. She might fold. 

She fixes him with a glare and hopes that the emotion she felt earlier is no longer there in her eyes.

“Are you enjoying this?” Akane asks harshly. “Is this the competition you were referring to? Are you here to embarrass me?”

Ranma winces at that, suddenly looking dejected. And Akane is not used to this, to him reacting to her words as if she’s actually landing a blow. As if she’s hurting him right back. 

And he’s not fighting back. Why isn’t he fighting back? Fight me back!

“I’m… I’m embarrassing you?” he asks in earnest instead, an expression she cannot bear on his face.

It shocks her and disarms her instantly.

No. Not like that. Of course not. 

It hits her then, that Ranma must be feeling out of place and maybe a little bit self-conscious in this setting. Her upperclassman just called him dumb and implied that he’s inferior to them for not being enrolled in some stupid school. And he can’t prove them wrong with his fist.

Ranma is capable of feeling inadequate too, she realizes. It surprises her. 

“That’s not what I meant, Ranma!” she huffs out, subdued all of a sudden. Then more quietly, “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

She wants to add that she’s referring to him making fun of her cooking, implying she has the worst temper (not exactly a lie), and touching her to get a rise out of her. But he speaks again. 

“Is that why you didn’t tell them?” Ranma asks quietly, bashful still. He’s looking at the floor, as if not wanting Akane to see his expression.

“Huh?”

“About me. You didn’t tell them about, uh, us. Or me…” He sounds hurt as he says it. 

What?

Akane is confused momentarily, until she isn’t. Ranma seems stuck on the fact that none of her university friends seem to know who he is to her. He seems genuinely upset by that fact. 

Of course. 

So this is likely about his uninhibited pride. Of course it is. What else would it be about? She remembers how unhinged he became at the prospect of Shampoo no longer wanting him when she got her hands on the reversal jewel. She remembers him running to Ukyo to ask her if she loved him to assuage his feelings of insecurity.  

He could never stand girls breaking it off and moving on from him —“uncute” tomboys he’s here to break up with included.  

“And say what exactly, Ranma?” She finally says, sounding very tired, she realizes. Maybe she is.

Oh yeah, here’s this guy I’m kind of engaged to because our dads said so — though probably not really anymore — who thinks I’m the ugliest girl in the world and can’t say two nice words to me to save his life. But who for some reason kissed me like he craved me the day before I moved out of the dojo he’s supposed to inherit if he marries me. Here’s this guy who drives me crazy and who I can’t stand half the time, but who I miss so terribly and would give up my life for in a blink a thousand times over. A guy who saved my life so many times that it once made me feel special, until I realized that he would do it for anyone because it’s who he is. He’s kind and righteous and dauntless and a dumbass, and he would do it for anyone and I was never special to him. He would have cried like he cried for me at Jusenkyo for anyone dumb enough to get themselves killed like I did. I know that now. Oh and he’s also engaged to god knows how many other girls who all happen to be gorgeous and beautiful and lovely and totally NOT uncute like me.  

What even are we? 

Ranma doesn’t say anything, seemingly stuck.

And she can’t find any other words that won’t cause her to crumble or say something cruel that she doesn’t mean, so she turns around to continue her march to the ladies room instead.

He tries to stop her, but she slaps his hand away.

.

He follows her into the bathroom. Of course he does. 

She’s relieved to find that it’s spacious enough, with multiple stalls and multiple sinks. She doesn’t think she could bear being in a tight enclosed space with him right now. 

The door closes gently behind them. They’re alone. 

“You can’t be in here,” she says, reaching for the rightmost sink to grip it with both hands. 

She hunches over, closing her eyes. 

She hears him walk to the sink next to her. She hears the tap water running. She hears the unmistakable sound of water slapping skin, anticipation tight in her chest. 

She holds her breath and finds herself praying and hoping in her head, eyes shut tight.

Please. Please. Please. 

“What about now?” a soft voice breaks through her.

When she opens her eyes to glance at the mirror, Ranma’s hair is red and his clothes are too big for his frame.

He’s still petite. He’s still cute. He’s still… a girl. 

Akane’s heart clenches, overflowing. She can’t help the stupid smile on her face. She can’t help the relief that washes over her. 

And the sight of him as a girl should rile her up further, shouldn’t it? She should resent him more. After all, this was the face that looked her in the eyes and called her a quitter and a burden and questioned her love and dedication for martial arts. 

Yet strangely, she feels all the anger leave her body at the sight alone. 

Down to the very last ounce. She feels nothing but tenderness. Nothing but relief. (And it’s selfish isn’t it? Shouldn’t she wish for his wishes to come true?)

“Disappointed?” Ranma asks, his voice low and soft, and he looks earnest, like he’s scared of her reaction. 

Never. How could you say that?

“Don’t be silly, Ranma,” she says instead, trying to sound casual, but failing miserably as her voice cracks halfway. 

Oh no. 

The tears are back in her eyes, she realizes, her vision clouding. She promised herself she wouldn’t cry, but her body is begging for release, shaking with emotion. 

“Oh no…” Ranma immediately reaches for her as the first tears trace their way down her cheeks. “Akane, what’s- What’s wrong?”

She looks down at her feet, at her stupid leather boots. She’s overwhelmed. She’s drifting. She can’t control it. Her stupid raging heart.

“Why are you crying?” he asks, sounding alarmed and concerned and overwhelmed himself, his hands hovering over Akane’s shoulders, but not daring to touch. He never did well when faced with tears. 

His attempt at consoling her makes her want to cry even more. “Don’t cry. Akane, I-” 

She reaches for him before she can think. She decides to blame the saké from two hours ago. 

She reaches for him and brings him to her chest, locking her arms around his narrow shoulders and leaning down to hide her face in the crook of his soaked neck —her tears mixing with the water he just doused himself with.  

She just hugs him. Girl-type Ranma.

She hears his immediate little gasp and feels him instantly stiffen in her arms.

Then after a breath or two, she feels him slacken and go soft.

She remembers how he reacted similarly, though in his male body, the day she buried her face in his chest after he got back from fighting Herb. How he just stayed there while she soaked his favorite shirt with her happy tears. How he could barely look at her for a week after that without going red in the face and tripping over his own feet.

The memory sparks something warm in her heart.  

And this is different. He’s in her arms now, pressed against her chest now, feeling small in her embrace now. It’s different, but it’s the same. She finds that she likes this too, being the taller one, having the wider shoulders, holding him like this, like he’s precious to her. (He is).   

Did he ever feel like this while holding me? She thinks to herself. Did he ever feel this overwhelming affection for her? 

Of course not. When did he ever hug you like this?

He feels warm and strangely dainty in her arms, even while soaked in cold water. She can hear his heartbeat. Or is that just hers? He’s breathing hard and fast into her shoulder, his full breasts brushing against hers. Akane blushes. (Uhm. No. A thought for another day.) 

She can smell the beer on him. She can smell his skin. She always wondered how he managed to have two distinct scents as a boy and as a girl, and how they were both still so... him.  

She wonders what he’s thinking, if being pressed this close together is allowed considering the ring around his finger, if he’s thinking of ways to let her down gently. 

“Is this how people greet each other in your stupid school or what?” he finally speaks, the quills in his voice betraying his nonchalance. 

“Ugh,” she grunts, embarrassed but happy she got to at least have this for a few seconds. 

She moves to end the hug, but then his arms come up to lock around her middle. 

He hugs her back. It’s Akane’s turn to gasp. He’s so strong, even as small as dainty as he may look. He’s always been.

“Just- Just a minute, yeah?” he says, holding her closer to him, his weak earlier protest forgotten as he moves to… nuzzle her? “I wanna see what this greeting is all about before you start yelling at me again.” 

Akane melts further into him. And she’d question this further, him suddenly returning her affection. But she realizes that her tears haven’t dried yet. She never knows how to stop when she gets like this.

I missed you. I miss you. All of you. I’m so glad you’re still here. I would miss you if you were gone. 

“Still a crybaby, huh?” Ranma mumbles in the crook of her neck, sounding as nervous as she feels. She trembles from feeling his breath there.

She finds that she doesn’t have a retort to that. It’s true. She thought she was done being one, a cry-baby. She hasn’t cried in months, except for one time at the movies. But it turns out that she reverts to her old self when he’s around. Who would have thought.

“Uhm. Sorry if your shirt is getting wet or something from my hair, by the way,” he adds when she doesn’t react to his quip. 

“‘s fine,” she mumbles back, sniffling. 

He holds her closer. She can barely breathe. She closes her eyes, soaking up this gift, already mourning its inevitable end, already feeling the pain of the “break-up” he will request later tonight. She blocks it out. The noise. The “later”. 

They stay there, rocking in each other’s arms, until Akane begins to grow self-conscious. 

What is she thinking? Hugging him out of the blue in a public restroom of all places after causing a scene in front of her friends. 

She moves to end the hug, but finds that Ranma is now fisting her sweater in his hand, clawing at it, refusing to let go.

“Minute’s not up yet,” he says.

She blushes even more deeply. She doesn’t understand him. Is he going to share the Shampoo news with her after this hug?

A woman chooses that time to push the door open, causing them to immediately jump apart. She shoots them furtive glances, but doesn’t dwell. At least it wasn’t Aiko or Mina. 

Akane flips the tap open while Ranma just remains glued in place, face red, looking a little out of breath. Akane knows she’s not faring any better. 

She’s not sure how long they stand there, only that the woman has now left the bathroom. 

It takes another while before she can look at Ranma again. 

“Uhm, your sweater,” he says, pointing at how wet it has gotten from his hair. 

“You’re not doing much better,” she quips back, but it’s light and airy. 

He’s looking at her with big round eyes, and he looks so nervous. 

So nervous and so small, his outfit ridiculously large on him. She suddenly realizes why he looks so much smaller and funnier than usual. It’s Akane’s heels. She chuckles.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, and he’s blushing under Akane’s watchful eyes. 

His hair is still dripping. Akane finds herself reaching for his front strands with her bare hand. She touches his hair with her first three digits first, before closing her full hand around the strands, squeezing the water out, methodically. 

She doesn’t know why she feels compelled to do it. She just does. 

“I guess all that height went to your male form,” she says with a light chuckle. “You didn’t get a millimeter taller as a girl.”

“Well, your breasts didn’t grow bigger either. Guess all of it went to your thighs.”

Akane whacks him over the head, an impulse, but there’s no real force there. ”Idiot,” she says. 

For a moment, she worries he’ll be put off, but he just plays it off.

“I guess you still remember how to throw hands. I was starting to worry that all those boring classes made you forget.”

“And I guess you’re still a jerk. I was starting to worry you took too many hits to the head with all your tournaments.” 

She expects him to retaliate immediately by commenting on how ‘uncute’ she still seems to be. But he’s quiet for a while.

“You don’t gotta worry about that, Akane,” he says. “Only one I let close enough to my head to land a blow is still you.”

He looks surprised by his own admission. 

Akane isn’t sure what to say, isn’t sure what he means. 

She was there for one of his official competitions, the one he won right before they had their “sparring” session in the dojo. She was there, donned in a baseball cap over one of Ranma’s wigs, and what one could consider a disguise. He didn’t know she was there. She didn’t know she would go either. They weren’t on speaking terms then after all. But she couldn’t help it. Something just compelled her at the very last minute to make the trip after hearing how brutal and ruthless his opponent was. But she didn’t stay for long. Ranma had somehow gotten distracted in the middle of the match and given his competition an opening. She remembers the sound of Ranma’s skull cracking against the hardwood floor. She remembers how it rattled her, how much it hurt to watch and hear, and how she’d gotten up and left immediately after that. 

“Stop making that face,” Nabiki had told her later that evening. “He won. You know?” 

Of course he did. Akane never had a doubt that he’d win. But it didn’t mean she enjoyed watching him get hurt.

Akane hopes it’s true. She hopes that Ranma isn’t taking any more hits to the head. And if he does, she hopes Shampoo, or Ukyo, or whoever is there to take care of him afterwards. 

It surprises her that she’s not immediately imploding with jealousy. Acceptance? Growth? Akane isn’t sure. 

“I heard things have been going well with the tournaments,” she says. “From Nabiki, I mean. I think she talks to Auntie sometimes. Your mom says you’re doing very well.”

“Well, of course I am,” Ranma says, his cocky side back in full-force. Akane can’t even resent him. She missed seeing him like this. 

“And I think that it’s you she wants to talk to, you know?” he adds.

“Hm?”

“Mom. She misses you, I think. I mean, I know she does. If she talks to Nabiki, it’s probably cause you’re not home when she calls.”

Akane feels bad. It’s true. She hasn’t been a very good future daughter-in-law as of late. But it’s probably for the best.

“I miss her too,” she tells Ranma instead.  

“Maybe, uhm, you can visit sometime?” 

Akane can’t even imagine what her first trip back might end up being like. It hurts to even think about it.

She settles for “yeah maybe.” 

“Uhm, I heard you beat the reigning Judo girl at your school?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I guess,” Akane stumbles. She’s surprised to know that Ranma is keeping tabs on her. “

“Nabiki told Kasumi on the phone, I think. And Kasumi told us over dinner…”

Right. 

(So he still lives at the dojo?).

Akane shrugs. “The girl challenged me and said some stuff about our dojo. Of course I had to take her on.”

“And you beat her,” Ranma remarks, looking strangely proud. “I guess that makes you the reigning Judo champion now, no?” 

“Hm. I guess,” Akane shrugs again. Then the words leave her before she realizes what she’s about to say. “Not too bad for a quitter, I guess.” 

Oh. 

She clams up instantly. 

“Akane…” Ranma is quick to call out her name, and she can’t stand it.

“Eh, I don’t know why I said that,” she sputters, then turns towards the door. “Forget it. We should probably head back.” 

“Akane, wait…” 

Ranma grabs her wrist. It’s gentle. She thinks back to all the times he grabbed her wrist. Always so gently like this. She looks at the tiles on the floor. 

“It’s not a big deal, Ranma. It’s dumb. Just forget I said that.” 

“It’s not dumb!” Ranma nearly growls. “It’s not dumb to me. You’re not… You’re not a quitter, Akane.”

So it’s okay when you say it but not when I do?

“Akane, I’m…” he pauses and sounds overcome with frustration and… worry? She holds her breath. “I’m- I’m sorry, Akane.” 

The simple words break through her, instantly. She feels the tears back in her eyes. Dammit. She was over this. She was so over this. She didn’t care. It didn’t matter. She’d put herself back together, dammit!

“I’m sorry for the shit I said that day.” Ranma pummels through. “I didn’t mean a single word. I thought you knew that, but… I’m just... I’m sorry. I was pissed and upset that you decided to leave me- Uh, to leave me behind, I mean. And I lashed out cause that’s what I do. Cause I’m an idiot and I didn’t think, and I didn’t realize it would make you cry… I didn’t know you’d never speak to me again. I’m just… I’m sorry, Akane. I was wrong.” 

Akane just looks at him. She doesn’t know what to say or do. She never did when he was suddenly kind to her. 

She should probably feel somewhat angry, but she feels nothing but relief upon hearing the words at last. She feels grateful for finally receiving an apology. From him in his girl-form. 

Closure at last.

Akane doesn’t know how to say anything without bursting into tears again. 

“And it’s okay if you never forgive me, Akane. I’ll take the silence. But I can’t stand you thinking those things about yourself. I need you to at least know that I didn’t mean any of it and that none of that shit I said is true.” Ranma pleads and it nearly brings her to her knees. ”You’re not a quitter and you’re not a coward for… for wanting more.”

This time, Akane lets her tears stream down her face. Who is she kidding? She will always be a cry-baby, and maybe that’s okay. Maybe it’s alright to feel what she feels when she feels it.

She’ll take this over the cold and nothingness she’s been forcing herself to feel all these months. 

Her legs nearly give out when his small hands come up to wipe her tears. He’s never done this before. 

“I’m trying something new, okay? Don’t freak out.” He says, as though listening to her thoughts. 

His thumbs are gentle and awkward on her cheeks. He’s blushing, too. His eyes are shining with emotion too. 

“You might be a giant pain in the ass, Akane, But you’re not a quitter. You’ve never been one. That’s what I lo-,” he pauses, flustered all of a sudden. “I, uh, I like that about you. That you never quit. Like me. You never quit. You burn down kitchens cause you refuse to give up on cooking, and you jump in oceans filled with sharks when you can’t even swim, and you even set yourself on fire for me once. You’re not a quitter.” 

She watches him, the tearing to her heart with his name on it getting deeper and wider. Can you brush that away with your thumb, too? 

“Okay?” he asks, squishing her face, like he’s unsure of what to do with his hands now, like he’s trying to take this back to platonic territory. She’s sure she must look ridiculous. But she’ll take it. 

Akane isn’t sure what he’s asking, but she nods, sniffling. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You believe me?” he quips, surprised.

“I… I forgive you.” She finds that she means it.

It’s Ranma’s turn to blink at her, looking taken aback and strangely insecure all of a sudden, like he can’t quite believe her. 

“Really?” he asks, solemn.

“Really.” Akane says and she smiles. 

She feels so much lighter. Nothing a good embarrassing cry can’t fix. And sure, they haven’t even tried to broach the topic of their mind-numbing kiss in the dojo all those months ago, but she’ll take this. Whatever this is. 

“Apology accepted,” She reassures him further. 

“Huh? It’s that easy?” Ranma blinks at her. “I was fully prepared to pull out the secret School of Saotome ‘Crouch of the Wild Tiger’ technique”.

Akane shoves him, then turns to reach for tissues to finally wipe her hands and what remains of her tears. 

Yes, it’s that easy, you jerk. All you had to do was say sorry and mean it.

She’s always been weak to him when he spared her some kindness. And then even more so when he was a girl.

It’s always been easier to not resent him when he was a girl. Akane couldn’t fully explain why. Maybe it was her complicated feelings toward men. Her inability to feel comfortable around them after years of being groped and harassed and objectified by the horde at school. Or maybe it was because she sometimes resented not being one herself. Because if she were a man, then the dojo could remain in the family without the need for some stupid marriage. Because if she were a man, then maybe she wouldn’t need to feel bad for not being good at things all girls seem to be good at, like cooking and sewing and drawing and being lady-like and having perfect feminine proportions. Because if she were a man, then maybe someone would like her for who she really was, flaws and tomboyness and all. Then maybe her mom would still be here. Maybe Kasumi wouldn’t have to worry so much-

“Well… While we’re being honest and nice to each other. I guess I lied earlier…” Ranma mumbles, snapping her of her rogue thoughts.

“Huh? About what?” 

“I guess your boobs did grow a bit,” he quips. “I mean nothing compared to my rack, but still.” 

This time Akane punches him through the restroom wall. And he looks happier than she’s seen him all night, laughing mindlessly. 

—I missed you. Just the way you are—

She smiles too. 

“Why do you never dodge?” she asks as they head for the door, because she’s been wondering and she can’t imagine that he can’t.

He simply shrugs, “cause I don’t want to.”

She decides to shove the implications of that answer to the side. 

“We should probably head back and find you some hot water, no?” she asks instead.

“Wait, before that...” 

“What?” 

“That Haruto guy…”

Akane blushes. “What about him?” 

“Permission to punch him in the face?” Ranma asks, looking serious.

Akane can’t help but laugh. 

“Me first,” she replies. “Only I get to call you dumb.”

“Hey! You’re dumb!” Ranma grunts, scowling.

“Really, Ranma? What happened to not being kids anymore?”

They both stiffen as she utters the words. 

The last words he said to her before he grabbed her hips in the dojo. Before she kissed him first, and before he kissed her second, and third, and fourth. Before he kissed her whole —burying himself deep in her mind and heart. 

It’s Ranma who breaks the silence first, a deep blush on his cheeks. She wonders if he’s replaying that day in his mind too. 

“Whatever,” he shrugs, clearing his throat. “That guy better watch his back.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t jumped him yet,” Akane adds, trying her best to move the conversation to safer territory. “Since when do you ask for permission and hold back?”

Ranma doesn’t respond right away, like he’s considering his answer.

“Don’t wanna embarrass you, I guess,” he finally says. 

Akane blinks at him. Since when does he care about how his actions reflect on her? But then he diffuses the situation again. Ever the master.

“What the hell is ass-uh-tism anyway?” 

She laughs. Of course he knew she understood what the word meant.

“Asceticism is when you abstain from things that make you happy and feel good in the pursuit of a higher goal or something.”  

“What the hell does that even mean?”

Me. With you. Right now.

.

Ranma and Akane return to their seats, both smiling. The others don’t comment on his dripping wet hair, or their matching wet tops, or on the fact they’ve been gone for maybe thirty minutes. They don’t remark on how Akane looks like she’s been crying, or on how Ranma looks like he just got back from taking a hot bath (from the scalding hot water Akane procured for him from the back of the bar). 

They don’t comment on the lightness both of them seem to be carrying. 

(Akane is sure half the table is convinced they did something scandalous in the restroom. She tries not to think about it). 

She doesn’t pay attention to the conversations around the table. How could she? 

Ranma is looking at her, not even bothering to hide it now. And she keeps squirming. Haruto won’t look at her anymore. She finds that she couldn't care less.

She keeps squirming and Ranma has now switched to saké, like he’s on a mission to outdrink her entire group.

“Trying to catch up on drinking after dipping for thirty minutes, or?” Aiko asks him, ever so perceptive.

“Need some liquid courage, or something?” Mina chimes in, looking just as sly as Aiko. And Akane waits for him to say something like “I got courage for days” or something equally stupid. 

“Uhm. I guess.” Ranma says instead with a shrug, looking earnest, then accepts the healthy pour from Aiko. 

Akane braces herself again. 

Ranma is drinking to find courage. Courage to break things off with her later. 

Mina suddenly informs them that they decided to go dancing at this new club downtown while they were both in the bathroom. 

Ranma says he’ll tag along. Akane’s heart feels tight in her chest. 

She considers calling it a night and heading home, but she knows that Ranma will follow her, and she doesn’t think she can have that conversation already. So she decides to stick with the group and hopes that Ranma will give up halfway. 

Ranma watches her tie a thick yellow scarf around her neck as they prepare to leave the bar, glaring at the fabric like it’s harming her. Akane doesn’t know what goes on in his head. She guesses he’s a bit past being tipsy. He sticks close to her as they exit the bar and breathe in the chilly city air. 

“I’m not carrying you if you pass out in these streets,” she warns him. “And stop glaring at my scarf!” 

“I’m not glaring!” he growls, then turns sheepish. “Your hair is a bit longer. ’s all.” 

“Oh.” Akane feels herself deflate a bit. It’s true. It’s been months since her last haircut, so it’s a bit longer now. It covers a bit more of her neck now. “Kasumi’s the only one who cuts my hair. So…” 

“And you haven’t been home in months.” Ranma supplies. 

Yes. Her hair is longer because she’s avoiding him. He’s paying attention to her hair. She should have washed her damn hair. And what’s he annoyed about anyway? What she does with her hair is none of his business. 

She doesn’t respond. “Growth” or whatever.  

The group stops at a convenience store to buy cigarettes and snacks. Akane runs inside to get Ranma some water, mints, and hangover cure for tomorrow. 

She’s still annoyed at his comment about her hair, but begins to forget about it when she sees him run to her down the aisle, looking panicked after letting her out of his sight for maybe two seconds.

“You’re such a child, Ranma.” 

“Well, don’t disappear on me like that!” 

“Want me to hold your hand? Want me to get you a popsicle, you big baby?”

“Ugh. Tomboy as ever, are you?”

The insult doesn’t really bother her this time.

It’s cute. He’s cute. He should be tipsy more often. He follows close behind her after that until she makes it to the cash register. 

They both blush deeply when they notice that Haruto and Nakamura picked up condoms along with their cigarettes. 

Akane isn’t sure how to react. Is Haruto trying to tell her that he moved on and that he’s planning on picking up some girl at the discotheque later? Payback for yelling at him in front of everyone? Or is he trying to get a rise out of Ranma?

Ranma who’s now full-on seething, moving from standing behind her to right in front of her, glaring at Haruto, his stance wide, establishing a perimeter. 

“What? You’ve never seen one of these or what?” Haruto scoffs at Ranma with a glare of his own. “Too busy with your training?”

Great. Now everyone knows there’s definitely something going on between her and Ranma, what with his sudden display of raging possessiveness. 

She has to physically drag Ranma away by the arm, leaving the girls cooing inside the convenience store while they heat up their ramen. 

He’s still sulking and red in the face even a while later. And what an idiot. What gives him the right to get this upset and make up scenarios in his mind. 

Akane realizes that she wants to know too. The answer to Haruto’s question. Is Ranma doing all that with Shampoo now? 

Is this all it took? Six months of her absence for him to turn from a kid to a man? But then again, he can’t hug her without going red in the face. Maybe it’s different with other girls. Maybe he only gets flustered around tomboys like herself. 

She wishes she had some of that saké handy. 

The guys light up their cigarettes outside the store while the girls eat their ramen. A quick break before they all head to the underground train. They can’t afford to miss the last one.

She stands there next to Ranma until his breathing evens out. Until his hand is no longer in a fist. She wants to resent him for being such a conceited jerk who thinks he owns her, but finds that she can’t. 

“These dudes just do shit like this in front of you, girls?” he huffs. “I should just bash their heads in.”

“I thought I was the one with the temper issues in this relationship,” she says jokingly, gauging his mood.

Ranma looks at her then and lets out a small laugh.

“Hate to break it to you, but it’s still you, Akane,” he responds. “That Haruto asshole is still breathing, isn’t he?” 

“Idiot.” She mutters as she rolls her eyes. 

Ranma laughs. 

“Wait, don’t tell me you picked up this habit?” Ranma asks her, all of a sudden, referring to the others smoking next to them. 

“Of course not. I'm a Martial Artist. I wouldn’t want to damage my lungs,” she says defensively, offended that he would even ask her. 

I’m only here outside with you to stop you from killing my upperclassman. 

“Good,” he says, smiling more openly now. “Come on then.”

Ranma suddenly leaps off the ground and lands effortlessly on his feet on the roof of the one-story convenience store. Akane looks up at him towering over them, and she can’t help but admire him in the night lights. The handsome jerk.

She watches as the rest of the girls swoon, impressed by how easy he made that leap look. The guys look impressed too. Haruto looks unnerved. 

“Well?” Ranma taunts her. “Need a hand, or?” 

She scoffs before hurling her small crossbody bag at him. He catches it one-handed without breaking eye contact, and grins as he watches her take a few steps back in order to launch herself in the air. 

She miscalculates how much bounce she needs and nearly comes crashing into the ledge knees first. But Ranma catches her by the arm and lifts her up effortlessly, pulling her into his chest, which she crashes into rather gracelessly.

His hands find her hips instantly, steadying her physically —and unraveling her emotionally.

“I-”  Her pride saves her from blushing too hard at their predicament. She pushes herself off of him. 

She focuses on feeling upset instead. Shampoo would have landed the jump on her feet. Ukyo would have landed the jump on her feet.

“The heels threw me off,” she says dumbly. 

“Still a clutz, huh?” 

She shoves him and he laughs like he knew it was coming. 

He sits on the ledge of the roof and pulls her gently by the arm. She’s still shaken from feeling his hands on her hips to resist. 

They sit, knees bumping, feet dangling. The rest of her group inhaling and exhaling their smoke under them in the neon lights. Ranma sips on the water she forced on him while she stares into the night sky. The fumes never reach them. 

She finds that she can’t look at him. So she doesn’t. 

The wind picks up and she suddenly feels cold. She senses a shiver run through Ranma who’s just sitting there by her side in his stupid blue sleeveless shirt, and feels a pang of pain for him.

She unfurls her scarf and wraps it around his neck before she can think much about it. She expects him to act horrified at her caring gesture or at least tease her, but he just smiles.

(And gosh. She wants to die. Who lets their crush on the world’s biggest jerk fester and intensify in front of their very eyes the very night said jerk shows up to break up their engagement? Who?!) 

“You didn’t knit this one, did ya?” he says with a grin, making her frown again. 

She shoves him and he lets her, before gently pulling her by the arm towards him.

“We can share,” he says, the smile never leaving his eyes. He should stay tipsy forever, she thinks. She likes it when he smiles too. “C’mere. We can share.”

He wraps the rest of the scarf around Akane’s neck. He looks serious and clumsy as he does it. Serious but still nervous, blushing like the sight of her bare neck is burning him. “What kinda man would I be if I left your neck unprotected like that, huh?”

She finds herself scooting closer, so they don’t choke on it, her scarf. She can smell him. She can smell the beer and the saké on him. 

Her throat feels tight in the scarf. But she doesn’t mind. Choking with him on this roof. She wants to laugh. 

It’s all so ridiculous. 

She laughs and he joins her. They laugh about it.

She missed this. Just sitting and laughing at something dumb. She missed him.

He fists the scarf in the hand donning his silver promise ring — Akane steals a glance. It seems to be bearing initials. She can’t see them clearly from here. 

She gets distracted when Ranma brings the scarf to his nose then sniffs it, making her blush. 

It feels… blasphemous.

“Smells like you,” he muses with a little smile. 

Akane pulls at it, frowning and nearly choking him in the process.

“Give it back if you don’t want it!”

“Hey! When did I say that?!” he protests, pulling it back gently, not choking her. He smells it again.

“Smells like Akane.” 

Akane blushes even more deeply, feeling herself deflate and burn inside. He has no idea, does he? What he’s putting her through. And it’s also her fault, isn’t it? She’ll die before admitting any of it to him. 

“Why are you dressed like this anyway?” she asks him, deflecting. 

“My warmer shirts are in the laundry,” Ranma shrugs. “It was either this or showing up in one of the shirts you left behind.” 

“You made some good money from all the tournaments. Why are you still in hand-me-downs? Don’t tell me your father took all of it?”

“Hah! Well, he did try. But nah. I wouldn’t let him. I did spend most of it already.”

“Let me guess. On food for that bottomless stomach? Some new wigs?”

“Hey now!” he scowls while she laughs.

He lets her.

“Well, the food thing may be true. But that trip to China wasn’t free and the rest went to Ukyo, and then the dumb rings-” Ranma pauses. He looks at Akane, alarmed all of a sudden. 

That whole sentence felt like a stab to the chest. Ukyo? The rings? Did she get all of this wrong? 

“Right. Ukyo,” She repeats, so as to stop her own thoughts from spiraling further. He’s about to tell her, isn’t he.

“Yeah, for her dowry.” 

“Her dowry.” Akane repeats again.

What?  

“I paid her and her father back. For the cart. For what Pops stole.” 

Oh. 

Akane is quiet. She’s stunned. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So you and Ukyo?”

“It’s done. It’s over.”

“Oh okay.”

“I mean not like it ever started. And I still want to be friends obviously, but she barely said two words to me these past months. She’s still mad at me for taking it that far.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.”

They’re both quiet for a while. Akane doesn’t understand anything. What does he mean by taking it that far? She has a million questions, but the pain in Ranma’s eyes compels her to tend to him first. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “That must have been tough. I know she’s your friend.”

Ranma winces, as if conjuring up a very painful memory. 

“She’s the second closest thing I’ve had to a good friend. You know?” he says. “Let’s just say there was a lot of yelling and smacking around. She even cried at one point, which I didn’t really think she’d do. You know I can’t deal with that stuff.”

Is that what she walked into at Ucchan’s? Is that why Ranma was holding her? Because she was crying? 

“I think I hurt her by going directly to her father and giving him the money for the cart, you know?” Ranma continues, as if preemptively answering her questions. “I think she was hurt that I dismissed her feelings and reduced the fiancé thing to just money, I guess. You know she barely talks to her Pops and all? It took me a while to locate him, too.

“And I feel bad for giving it to him, the money I mean. It could have helped with her business, I guess. But she would have never accepted it.” 

Akane nods. Unsure of what to say, but happy that he’s rambling like this, opening up to her. She wonders if it’s the alcohol. If this is the liquid courage he was conjuring up earlier. 

“I think she cried cause I hurt her pride and went as far as paying back her dowry behind her back. I know it’s not very honorable, but I had to make the engagement end. I couldn’t keep it going. It‘s the more honorable thing to do.” 

The honorable thing to do. So it’s that serious with Shampoo then. 

Akane can’t help but feel for Ukyo. She’s a proud woman too after all. Akane misses her. She was her friend too, when she wasn’t trying to destroy her home and crash her wedding.

“I had to go that far, you know? I don’t think she would have given up otherwise.” 

Unlike you. Akane hears in his words. The way she gave him up so easily. The way she’ll let him go scot-free tonight when he tells her that he can no longer be engaged to her.

“I’m sure she’ll forgive you soon,” Akane finds herself saying. “I can’t see her holding a grudge forever. You should give her time to sort out her feelings.”  

“Her feelings…” Ranma repeats, like that never crossed his mind.

“She really loved you, after all. That doesn’t go away just because you finally figured out a way to end the engagement.”

Akane feels him deflate by her side. Her shoulders slump down too as she replays her own words in her head. 

Like me. 

“She’ll forgive you. Don’t worry about it.” Akane says with a lump in her throat, the first honest thing. “Maybe not right now, but she will. Just give her some time.”

And me. I hope you’ll wait for me too. 

“I hope you’re right…” Ranma mumbles. “These past few months were… not great.” 

And he’s so open and vulnerable that Akane doesn’t know how to handle him like this. 

“Oh I’m sure! So no more cute fiancée, huh?” she jokes instead, because she’s too scared to bare herself like that, too scared of him breaking her heart once and for all. 

It takes him a few seconds, but he chuckles too. “Yeah. Tragic, right?”

“Yeah, sorry for your loss.”

Ranma laughs quietly. “Would have invited you to the funeral, but you never returned any of my calls.”

Right. 

Not funny.

“Uhm. I’ve just been busy.”

“Yeah, I heard you’ve been busy taking trips to the feudal era and even Thailand lately. Something about going to Norway next? Where even is that?”

She laughs. She remembers being there when Nabiki whipped those over the phone.  

“Nabiki is taking some creative writing classes.” she says.

He laughs, uninhibited at last. She soaks it all up. 

“So who’s first? Ryoga?” she finds herself asking innocuously.

“Huh?”

“You said ‘second closest’ friend.”

“Oh. Hmm, well.” 

He flushes and she finds herself uttering another stupid, ‘Oh.’

“I guess that dumbass Ryoga. Yeah. I dunno.” 

This time, she knows it’s her he’s talking about. And she could feel offended. She could feel hurt at being crowned the ultimate ‘friend’. But she feels nothing but warmth inside of her heart. 

Part of her is rejecting even that notion. It could never be you. He can’t stand you. But the way he’s looking bashful and subjecting himself to this night to try and be gentle with her heart is telling her that maybe he does consider her a friend after all. ‘It’s the honorable thing to do.’ He doesn’t have many of them after all, friends. 

It’s pathetic, but at least she managed to be someone to him, at least he deems her worthy of a superlative. Maybe she’s not the most beautiful or graceful or feminine or strong or desirable. But at least, she’s his friend. He’s opening up to her and feeling safe enough to be vulnerable with her.  

It’s pathetic, but it makes her smile. It’s pathetic but she’ll take it.

So she smiles. It breaks her heart a little, but she smiles. 

When she turns to look at him, she finds him staring at her, an unreadable expression on his face, as though in a trance. 

“What? What are you looking at?”

He just shakes his head. 

“Nothing,” he shrugs.

“What do you mean nothing?”

“Just…” he starts, then pauses, blushing.

She waits, holding her breath. 

“Was just thinking…” he mumbles, his hand now reaching for her face, reaching for her hair, the hair he said was too long now, the hair he kept glaring at like it was personally offending him.

And what is he doing?! 

He tucks the loose strands behind her ear, and she feels like letting herself tumble off this very roof. He smells so good. She wants to inhale him. 

And he’s been touching her so much. Why is he touching her so much?

“Was thinking that…”

He leans down and she panics, her breath still stuck in her throat. She panics until she realizes he’s leaning down to whisper something in her ear. 

“... you look really cute when you smile. You know?” 

What?

Akane shoves him until his back is flush against the ground, the scarf fully choking them both now, and he’s looking up at her with that stupid dopey smile, and a lovely blush.

“You drunk asshole!” she growls.

“Shit. Maybe that saké wasn’t such a good idea,” he says as he laughs, looking embarrassed and a bit disoriented, like the earth is spinning above him. 

She unties the scarf from where it’s choking her and drops it on his chest before coming to her feet, legs all wobbly. He looks up at her, still laughing, and she gives him the middle finger before she hops off the roof. 

She lands on the ground next to the rest of the group with less grace than she would have liked. The group who seems confused by her huffing and puffing and by Ranma laughing above them, still on his back. 

And her heart beats and beats and beats. 

And friends tease each other, right? Ranma called Ukyo cute so many times before, and right in front of her, too. Friends tease and hug each other, right? 

Ranma suddenly lands softly next to her, holding the scarf and wrapping it around his neck. 

He smells it again. A challenge. 

“Race you to the train station? Last one there pays the fare!”

“You jerk, I’m wearing heels!” 

“Ya better start running then! Loooooserrrr!”

Akane starts running. 

I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.  

She just runs. 

.

“You don’t even have money to pay the fare. You challenged me on purpose!”

“Well, you can blame Nabiki for that.” Ranma shrugs. 

“How much did she charge you?” Akane asks, not even bothering to pretend she didn’t know Nabiki was behind Ranma finding her. 

“Let’s just say it was everything I had on me,” he says.

It’s not until they get to the train platform that she realizes that she completely forgot about the rest of the group. Akane panics because if she doesn’t join them soon, Ranma might spring the last conversation she wants to have on her.

“Should we go back up to wait for them?” Ranma asks, seemingly feeling guilty for separating her from the rest of her friends. 

“They’re probably on an earlier train already. We ran around for a while.” Akane admits as she looks at her watch, not fully fessing up to the fact that she let them run all the way to the next station. “We should just get on the next train. It’s late, so it’s probably the last one.”  

“Oh, okay.”

It’s suddenly awkward and quiet again. They stand side by side, waiting. 

When the train pulls into the station, Ranma stands close behind her, both arms extended and hovering around Akane’s body as they make their way into the car. He keeps them there until they find some empty space in front of the middle seats. He then comes to stand next to her, facing the windows.

The train is packed with inebriated people, overzealous college kids, and overworked salarymen clocking in even on weekends. Akane wonders if Ranma has ever been in public transport this crowded, if his defense mechanisms are in full alert mode, hyper-aware of everything around them. It took her a while to get used to it after all —as well as a few trips to the police station after she punched a few perverts in the jaw for trying to rub against her or against some other unsuspecting female rider. 

But Ranma is calm and quiet by her side. 

The following station brings in an even larger horde of people who have no issue pushing their way in —last train and all. They’re all squeezed so tightly together that she feels the middle-aged man who was standing behind her dangerously press himself against her. 

Akane mentally readies herself to stomp on his stupid foot and drive her elbow into his stomach.

But Ranma beats her to it. Ranma who has now shifted to sidle up to her and stand behind her instead, stepping over the man’s shoes in the process. Ranma who is now shielding her and surrounding her completely. She feels so small against his chest. Her mind shifts to how small he felt in her arms earlier in the bathroom. 

“Got a problem?” She hears him hiss at the man who has now retreated to the other side of the train. “Fucking idiot.” He mutters under his breath.

Ranma cusses and it sends shivers through her spine. When did he start cussing like that? And why does it suit him? 

She blushes, suddenly dizzy. Is she going crazy?

“I could have dealt with it myself,” she mumbles. 

“I know. But what kind of man would that make me?” 

You and your stupid manhood.

She’s so distraught that she forgets to brace herself for the train sputtering forward, and nearly loses her balance and falls over on the young women occupying the seats in front of them.

Ranma catches her before she makes a fool of herself, wrapping one strong arm around her stomach, his hand looping around her waist, and using the other to hold onto the handle above him. 

Akane recoils further into herself, her face hot, her knees weak, her insides a jumble.

And he’s holding her so close, squeezing her so tight. Like that day. That stupid day in the dojo. 

“I’m being a good citizen,” he mutters quietly in her ear. “I have to protect the subway riders from you falling over and crushing them with your weight.”

“Don’t talk about my weight. You jerk!” she shrieks. She feels him chuckle behind her, pulling her even closer to him. Her back now flush with his front. 

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. 

Oh and how she doesn’t. She doesn’t. She doesn’t.

And he smells so good. And she feels so good in his arms, so safe and precious, and she hates him. He’s holding her taut against his chest like she’s about to be snatched away from him, refusing to let go. 

She looks up, turning her head to the side, and finds that he’s beet red, exactly as she imagined he would be. His head sinks even lower, his eyes hidden behind his fringe. She realizes that he doesn’t want her to see them. His eyes. 

She wonders what must be happening in that thick head of his. Is he feeling guilty for holding her like this? Is he just having trouble letting go of what’s his? Is he worried she’ll be hurt the same way Ukyo was hurt, and she’ll never speak to him again? Is he just staking his claim in front of all of Tokyo, ruining her for anyone else, so that she can’t stop thinking about him for years to come while he lives his life, so she can remain helplessly under his thumb? Or is he just drunk and horny and any warm body will do? 

It makes her sad. How he can make her feel miserable and elated at the exact same time. How she’s dying for his touch and his affection just the same. 

She’s full on spiraling when his other arm comes to wrap itself around her stomach too. He holds her with both arms and burrows into her. 

This time, Akane’s knees give out as she squeaks, and Ranma has to pull her up against his chest, holding her upright as he hunches over. 

“What the hell has gotten into you?” she yelps, her face ablaze, and a feeling she won’t put a name to settling into her gut and then even lower.

“I don’t know. Akane. I don’t know,” Ranma sighs into her neck, his face now buried there. And he sounds so sad. Why does he sound so sad? “I know I should leave you alone. But I just- I can’t…”

“What- what are you talking about?”

The train moves again (when did it stop?) and Ranma grunts along with it as he moves his face to nuzzle her. And Akane wants to close her eyes and scream. The girl sitting in front of them is blushing furiously too, and Akane can’t believe him. 

“I couldn’t even last two months in China. You know?”

Akane shoves him with all her might this time, but he just stays there behind her, holding her, nuzzling her. 

“Ah!” Akane yelps again when she feels his nose along her neck. “Have you gone insane?” 

“Maybe…” Ranma sighs. “Or maybe you were right, Akane. Maybe we’re not kids anymore…”

Akane stops fussing in his arms at his words. All her inhibitions thrown out the window. 

Who is she kidding? She died for the man once. What’s a little heartbreak going to do? 

“ I can hear your heartbeat, Akane…” Ranma jolts her out of her thoughts, his voice raw and painful. “Haven’t since that day in the dojo.”

Akane melts further into him. “Ranma...” her heart goes tight in her chest. What is he saying?

“You know at Jusenkyo, I really thought-”

Ranma pauses like he’s choking up. Akane’s heart shatters at the simple mention. 

Is this why he’s unraveling upon hearing her heartbeat in a crowded midnight train? 

“I was holding you this close, Akane… I was crushing your bones like this, and you weren’t- I just-”

He squeezes her tighter. And he’s shaking now, his fingers gripping her so tight now, she knows she’ll bear Ranma-shaped bruises later. 

Ranma is spiraling inside his own head, his anxious feelings amplified by the beer and saké, no doubt. She shouldn’t have let him drink. She has to bring him back. She needs to calm him down. 

She’s likely developing tachycardia herself, feeling dizzy and panicked, and her lungs are going to collapse if he doesn’t stop squeezing her like that. But she doesn’t want to frighten him by telling him that he’s hurting her. She needs to calm him down before he actually crushes her bones.

She crosses her own arms over his, bringing her hands to grip both of his arms where they’re taut around her stomach. She tries to be gentle. 

“Ranma, I’m here.” She simply says. “I’m here.” 

The train hurtles along, their fellow passengers — who likely won’t remember any of this tomorrow — now watching them intently. Akane would be embarrassed, but she can’t when he’s being this raw. 

“I’m here…”

“You’re here,” he mumbles at last, suddenly taking in a deep breath. 

“I’m here,” she repeats, moving her thumbs over his bare arms and hoping it’s somehow soothing. Hoping her touch is as soothing to him as his is to her. “It’s okay.”  

She feels Ranma’s breathing slowly return to normal. She feels her lungs fill up with oxygen again. He’s still shaking, but he’s slowly returning to himself.

She’s mortified and Ranma hasn’t moved yet. She imagines that he’ll crash hard when he finally comes to, when his self-awareness returns. So she blurts out the first dumb thought that crosses her mind.

“I- I didn’t wash my hair,” she says dumbly. 

It seems to do the trick, as she feels him slowly deflate and chuckle behind her.

“Yeah, I can tell,” he finally says, surprising her when he leans in once more to nuzzle her, as if to verify her claim. 

She elbows him, suddenly extremely self-conscious. “Well, don’t sniff me then!!!” 

“But you smell good…” 

What? 

“You really are drunk. Aren’t you?” she shrieks now. “You’ve got to be the most lightweight 18 year old in all of Tokyo!” 

“And you’ve got to be the most dense and blind girl in all of Japan!” he barks right back. 

“I guess I moved up from having the ‘biggest hips in all of Japan’? Should I be happy?” 

Ranma grabs her hips with both hands then, pulling her flush against him and halting all of thoughts at once. Every single one of them.  

“Your hips are fine,” he whispers to her, and her knees are giving out again. “Your hips are perfect. I’m just… I’m just an asshole…”

She swears he leaves a kiss where her neck and collarbone meet.

It sets her ablaze. It just wrecks her beyond return. 

“Akane… Can we go home? Can we just go home?” 

She feels like melting into the floor. She feels like stomping on his foot and sending him flying through the train roof until he’s leaping into the night sky. She feels like turning in his arms and kissing him on the mouth. 

She feels like imploding and taking down the entire Tokyo metro system with her. 

She’s about to make up her mind when he suddenly lets her go. 

Like that day in the dojo. 

He just… lets her go. 

She stumbles, nearly landing on the young woman squirming in her seat. 

“I’m sorry.” Ranma pleads, his eyes on the floor, his hands up by his sides in surrender. “Fuck... I’m sorry, Akane. I must have lost my mind.” 

It takes her a minute to gather herself, to catch her breath and to straighten her outfit, which got all bunched up from Ranma’s tight grip and hysterics. She tries not to show that her legs are shaking.

She tries to feel angry, but she can't. She's just stunned.

“I think uh… I think I better go,” he says and he sounds contrite and miserable. He must be feeling guilty towards Shampoo or whoever, she thinks. “You should go find your friends.”

“You’re… You’re no longer coming?”  She hears herself asking in a small voice.

“I think I’ve embarrassed you enough in front of them. I think I’ve embarrassed you enough today.”

That’s not true. It’s true but it’s not true. I don’t care about that. 

“My stop is coming up,” he says as the train begins to slow down. It’s not his stop. Ranma doesn’t know anything about any of the stops on this train line. 

“Okay.”

“Bye Akane.”

“Bye Ranma.” 

Bye, you fucking asshole. Ask me if I care! Look, I'm cussing too!

“Can I keep this?” he asks about the scarf he’s still fisting in his hand.

“Uh, yeah.” 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to return it.” 

Why? Are you moving away? Are you moving to China? 

“It’s fine,” she shrugs.

The doors open and Ranma moves to exit. Akane doesn’t realize she’s following him until they stand face to face on either side of the door.

“Thanks for this,” he says, looking sheepish. 

“No problem.” 

Will you call this time? Please call. I’ll pick up the phone this time. I swear I will. Even if you’re with Shampoo. Even if you’re with whoever. I don’t care whose ring is on your finger. I’m okay with being friends. I'll be your friend. I'll be your best friend. I can’t stand how you make me feel, but I can’t not have you in my life anymore. Please call-

The doors begin to close and Akane is grateful because she’s about to cry. She looks at her feet just in case. 

But then the doors suddenly squeak and splutter. 

Because Ranma has just shoved his forearm and leg between them, holding them open.

Akane blinks at him.  

Ranma fishes something out of his pocket, using his other arm to hold the door open while the rest of her fellow riders groan and protest for him to exit the train. 

But he doesn’t pay them any mind. Instead he reaches for Akane, depositing a small box into the palm of her hand. The doors are now ramming into his body, doing their best to close. He leans in closer to Akane, holding the door open with one arm, like it’s nothing. The jerk. Showing off. She can see where the metal is digging into his skin. 

“Ranma..” 

“It’s for you,” he says, looking into her eyes, his face flushed and shy as he speaks. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. But I just… I got them with my first prize money before graduation... Y’know after you got mad at me about Yuka and Hiroshi. Kinda the whole reason I signed up... Anyway, I know you want nothing to do with me anymore... I'm dumb, but I'm not that dumb. Y'know? Still, I thought you should have it. If you want it. You can sell it if you want. I don’t know. I just... It's yours. I wanted you to have it. Because it's yours.” 

Akane watches him. She watches the metal doors closing in on his arms and legs, digging into his skin. She wants to make it stop. She wants to fight the doors and blow them into smithereens. 

“Take care, Akane. The city looks good on you.” 

Ranma finally lets go. The doors snap shut at last. The train pulls away from the station, grunting, sputtering.

The people around her grumble and scoff.

On the platform, Ranma looks lost and dejected. She looks at him until she no longer can. Until the train is swallowed in darkness, at last.

Her heart. Her scarf. Left behind. In the palm of his hands. At Meguro station. 

In her hand, a blue box with a pink tulip engraved. 

She half expects to see pills as she pulls it open.

A ring greets her instead. A stupid silver ring to match the stupid silver ring on his finger.

The very ring she spent weeks staring at through the store window on her way home from school. The very ring Ranma called dumb and girly and cringe, only to take hits and kicks for three days straight at that tournament to afford.

‘A ∞ R’ engraved. 

Akane and Ranma. Infinity. 

Promise rings. Cheesy matching couple rings.

'I wanted you to have it. Because it's yours.'

Akane left her heart in the palm of Ranma's hand.

And he left his in hers. 

'It's yours.'

Akane gets off at the next station. 

She runs.

.