Hiya!
	Originally sent this to the TempML a bit back, and figured I 
might as well release it here as well.  Aside for minor changes 
throughout, there's only been two or three worth mentioning, which I'll 
refer to at the end.
	Enjoy!

	-Mike Noakes
***
                   Choices

Part One: The Party

     Burning embers floated high on the night wind, to flicker
briefly among the stars before flaring, fading, dying.  Their dizzying
dance twirled amongst the smoke and raucous laughter of boys as
they drifted into the sky.  As Hiroshi watched, one particular
particle of glowing ash was carried away, then reversed directions
when caught in an unexpected eddy.  It alighted upon a bare arm and
was unconsciously brushed away.
     "You sure you don't want one?" he asked, offering a bottle.
     Ranma glanced at the bottle with a certain distaste and shook
his head.  "You know I don't drink." he answered.  Hiroshi
shrugged and kept the beer for himself, not entirely surprised.  The
mere fact that Ranma had showed up was amazing enough in its own
right; to expect him to actually unwind, drink, and have a good time
was probably asking too much.  The thing was, Hiroshi couldn't see
the point of Ranma coming to Kiyoshi's party - easily the biggest,
best party of the year - if he wasn't going to relax somewhat and
have some _fun_.
     As Hiroshi leaned back, he looked around the yard, thinking
that Kiyoshi sure had a nice place.  Absolutely huge house, beautiful
and expansive yard, stone outer wall surrounding the whole area,
and, most importantly, the awesome outdoor pool that was currently
the centre of much of the activity - Hiroshi wasn't entirely sure what
Kiyoshi's parents did for a living, but they sure were loaded.  And
considering that they were gone on their annual trip to who-cares-
where, it was the perfect place and time to have a whopping huge
party, and a great way to release some of the stress of yet another
year of madness at Furinkan High.  Classmates, male and female,
from Furinkan and elsewhere, were standing and chatting, and
presumably drinking, in groups, both inside and outside the house;
others were dancing or jumping about, music blaring; many were
already taking advantage of the outside pool and were swimming
and splashing wildly, bubbly laughter and joyful shrieks punctuating
their fun.  But he'd go swimming later, he decided.  Right now,
Hiroshi was content to just sit around the fire, shoot the shit with his
buddies, and enjoy the contrast of the fire's heat on his front, the
refreshing wind on his back, and the cold beer in his hand.  Yes,
thought Hiroshi, this is turning out to be a beautiful party.  Kiyoshi
had another hit on his hand - everybody was having a great time.
     No, not everybody, he amended, looking sideways at Ranma,
who was absently brushing away another ember from the turned-
down sleeves of his usual red Chinese shirt..  At least one person
isn't enjoying himself.  He isn't drinking, he isn't talking, he's just. .
. sitting there.
     "Hey, Ranma?"  Hiroshi leaned towards his friend.  "What's
wrong?  You're just. . . sitting there."
     Ranma shrugged.  "I dunno.  Guess I'm just not in a partying
mood. . ." he answered.  Picking up a stick, he poked idly at the fire.
     "Ah."  After a moment, he tried again.  "Hey, didn't you
come with Akane?  Where is she?"
     "How should I know?" muttered Ranma.  He gave the log a
sharp jab.  "Stupid tomboy. . ."
     Ooookay, thought Hiroshi.  Obviously Saotome wasn't in a
very good mood tonight.  Probably another falling out between him
and his fiancee.  Again.  But if they were fighting, why'd he bother
coming to the party with her?  Especially if he was just going to sit
there and sulk?
     Actually, he thought as he glanced around for Daisuke (his
friend having head back into the house to grab a few more drinks
from the fridge), it was surprising enough that Ranma had come at
all.  He never showed up at any of the little get-togethers his
classmates organized.  Understandable, perhaps, considering the
rather active lifestyle he seemed to lead, but, still, if he was going to
bother coming out, he should at least try to have a little fun.  Ranma
must've read his thoughts, because a second later he turned to
Hiroshi.
     "I didn't really even want to come." said Ranma.  "It was
my stupid pop's idea . . . and Mr. Tendo, of course.  They found out
Akane was coming to this party with some friends of hers . . . so
they thought it only natural that her fiance aughta accompany her." 
He scowled.  "Like I even wanted to go to some stupid party,
anyway.  Especially after she didn't even ask me.  Especially after
she told me she didn't want me hanging around with her!  Like I'd
want to hang around with a kawaikunee like her. . ."  He gave
another fierce poke at the fire.
     So that was it.  Another. . .
     "Here ya go, bud. . ."  His thoughts were interrupted as
Daisuke plopped down next to him.  His friend passed a few bottles
over before glancing across at Ranma, who had returned to staring
sullenly at the fire.  "Hey. . . what's with him?" he whispered to
Hiroshi.
     Hiroshi suppressed a smile.  "Another fight with Akane." he
answered.  "She told him to leave her alone."
     "Again?  Sheesh.  Is it just me or have they been fighting
worse than usual, lately?"
     He shrugged.  "Probably.  Who can tell?"  He popped open
another beer and took a drink.  "Hey, by the way. . . what took you
so long?"
     Daisuke glanced around, then smirked.  "Heh.  Almost got
into a little tangle."
     "Huh?  How so?"
     "Well. . . I was grabbing a coupla beers from the bar fridge,
and when I stood up, I bumped into Ryuta, and. . ."
     "Ryuta? Not Uehara. . .?"
     Daisuke nodded.
     "Shit!  Who invited him?"
     "Does it matter?  He probably invited himself."
     "Yeah.  So what happened?"
     "Nothing much, really."  Daisuke shrugged.  "I accidentally
knocked his drink into him.  He wasn't impressed.  Threatened to
kick my ass if I didn't get him another drink."
     "So did you?"
     "Yeah.  Gave him a few bottles."  He nodded.  "But when he
wasn't looking, I swiped a couple of his bottles of sake."  With a
grin, he tossed over one of said bottles.  "Serves the jerk right,
threatening me over an accident!"
     Hiroshi looked down at the bottles with a small frown. 
"Shit, man, if he finds out. . ."
     "What's he gonna do, eh?"
     "I already _told_ you what I was gonna do, you little shit. .
." growled a deep voice from behind.
     With a surprised 'eep!', Daisuke spun and leapt to his feet. 
"Ah, hey. . . ah. . ." he stammered.
     Hiroshi watched as the other guy stepped into the firelight. 
It most certainly was Ryuta: one of the local Furinkan bullies, one of
the few that had managed to survive after the various martial artists
had arrived and the regime of Miss Hinako had begun.  Big guy,
strong, tough, his face somewhat resembling something chiselled out
of granite, he was known for having a rather nasty temper.  Not the
kind of guy who's bad side you'd want to get on (not, mind you, that
he had a good side anybody knew about, thought Hiroshi), and not
the kind of guy Kiyoshi would invite - but that had never stopped
Uehara from crashing a party before.  Somewhere in the back of his
mind Hiroshi wondered if any of the bully's usual friends were
hanging around, but his immediate concern was on the nasty feeling
growing in the pit of his stomach.
     "Hey, listen, it was a little joke, you know?" tried Daisuke,
as the larger youth grabbed him by the front of the shirt and hauled
him forward.
     "Yeah, sure, just a joke."  Ryuta sneered as he tightened his
grip.  "Funny."  Daisuke paled slightly. 
     Well, this certainly sucks, thought Hiroshi.  Trust an idiot
like this to ruin a perfectly good party.  With a sigh he started to
stand up to help his friend, noticing that some of the other guys
around the fire were getting up as well.  This is probably going to
hurt, he decided.
     "Sit down!" said the bully, eyes flashing, upper lip curling
with scorn.  "Or do I gotta beat the lot of you wimps up, too?" 
Hiroshi had no doubt that he could, too - the guy was a nasty
brawler, always getting into scuffles with goons from other schools.
. . and usually winning.  Resigned to a whole lot of pain, Hiroshi
hesitantly raised his fists in something hopefully approximating a
fighting stance.
     "Ummm.  Listen.  Couldja, you know. . . let him go?"
stammered Hiroshi, despite his best effort to sound tough.
     "Oh, so you want it first?" demanded Ryuta, tossing Daisuke
aside and turning to his friend.  With a contemptuous glance at the
boy on the ground, he took a step towards Hiroshi, one hammy fist
rearing back. . .
     . . . there was a sudden blur that zinged by, and a metallic
'ting'. . .
     . . . and suddenly the big guy was clutching his shoulder in
pain and surprise.  "What the?"
     Hiroshi opened his eyes, surprised he was still standing,
wondering what the delay was.  And suddenly, he knew, and
grinned.  Ryuta Uehara had chosen the _wrong_ group to threaten
this time.  With a narrowing of eyes, the bully took another step
forward.
     Something zinged by again.  Again Ryuta let out an
exclamation of pain, rubbing at his thigh.  "Hey!  Who's. . ."
     Hiroshi smiled and stepped aside, revealing the attacker still
sitting calmly by the fire.
     "Why don't you just go away?" asked Ranma, bored.
     Ryuta peered at the pig-tailed boy.  Maybe he couldn't make
out who it was.  Maybe he didn't care, or actually didn't know.  But
Hiroshi watched as the larger youth flushed in anger.  "You gonna
make me, you little piece of. . ."
     There was an audible sigh from Ranma, and then his hands
became a blur.  Things - Hiroshi still couldn't tell what - snapped
from his fingers.
     "I'm gonna... ouch!" exclaimed Ryuta.  "You. . . ouch! 
Ouch!  Dammit. . . ouch!"  He tried to take a step forward;
something pinged off his knee.  Then his chest.  Then his thighs,
shoulders, arms, and finally his forehead.  He staggered back, a
small trickle of blood streaming from the small cut between his
eyes.  He glared at the group.  "I'll get. . .!"
     This one bounced off his groin.  His eyes bulged, briefly,
before he twisted away, moaning,  and stumbled ungracefully in the
general direction of the house.
     A small cheer went up around the fire as everyone sat down
again.  Hiroshi turned to Ranma, Daisuke - who hadn't yet moved
from where he layed sprawled - scrambling to his feet and stepping
in next to him.  Their friend looked up at them and grinned.  "Not too
smart, is he?  Still, good thing he left when he did," he added,
opening his hand, "I was running out of ammunition. . ."  Sitting in
his palm was a single beer bottlecap.
     "You. . . you were flinging beercaps at him?"
     "Yup!  Saotome School of Anything-Goes Special Attack:
Cap-oeira Strike; just one of the many moves that make up the style
known as 'Bar Fly Do'."
     Hiroshi and Daisuke stared at him for a moment.  "You're
kidding, right?"
     "Scarily enough, no."  With a snap of his fingers, Ranma sent
the last bottlecap tearing off into the night.  "It's a style my pop
developed while 'studying' in a string of bars across China.  Uses
all the usual bar accessories - mugs, stools, bottles, beer nuts - as
martial art weapons.  Pop always said it's meant as a supplement to
drunken-style Kung Fu."  He shrugged.  "I figured he was just
looking for an excuse to hang out at the local bar - and a way to get
out without paying the tab."
     Daisuke looked at Hiroshi, who simply shrugged.  Tavern-
based fighting styles, drunken wandering fathers, trips across China
- it was all part of a lifestyle he simply found impossible to
understand.  Ranma seemed to take it all for granted; somehow,
Hiroshi wasn't so sure that he'd be able to do the same.


     The small metal disk winged its merry way through the
Neriman sky.  Eventually, it began its rapid descent.  With a loud
'ting' it bounced off a late-night pedestrian's head.
     With a growl, he reached down and picked up the crumpled
cap.  He didn't know where it came from.  He didn't know how it
came to bounce off his head.  But somehow, Ryoga Hibiki knew that
Ranma Saotome was to blame.


     "Are you sure you don't want it?"
     Hiroshi watched as Ranma sighed and shook his head. 
"Yes, I'm sure." he answered, pushing away Daisuke's offer. 
"Listen. . . you don't gotta thank me for helping out.  That guy was
asking for it; can't stand jerks like that.  I hate bullies."
     Daisuke looked a little disappointed, but nodded and sat
down next to his friend.  With Ryuta gone, the conversation was
starting to pick up again.  Hiroshi looked around the fire - mostly
people he knew, guys from his classes, but a few strangers that he
guessed were from different schools.  Coming around the circle, his
eyes came to rest upon Ranma.
     "Hey, by the way - thanks."
     Hiroshi blinked and turned to his friend.  "Huh?"
     "For, you know, standing up for me." supplied Daisuke. 
"Against that asshole."
     He shrugged.  "What're friends for, eh?"
     "Yeah."
     There was a momentary pause, before Hiroshi continued in a
low voice.  "Hey, Dai-."
     "Yeah?"
     "Have a look at Ranma there."
     "Yeah?  And?"
     "What d'ya figure he's doing?"
     "I dunno." answered Daisuke.  "Looks like he's just sitting
there.  Why?"
     "That's just it - he's just sitting there!" said Hiroshi, and fell
silent.  Daisuke gave him a quizzical glance, shrugged, and returned
to drinking and talking.  His friend remained fixated on the pig-
tailed boy's actions, or lack thereof.  He's just kinda pulled back, he
finally concluded, out of the group, out of the circle.  Why?  Why not
join in the conversation, join in the fun?  After fighting off Ryuta -
without even standing up! - they probably _wanted_ him to join in,
and certainly wouldn't refuse him!  But he didn't.  Maybe he thought
he was too good for them?  Maybe he was bored?  Maybe he simply
didn't care, didn't even _want_ to be part of the gang?  And then he
saw Ranma glance up, give a sad, almost envious look at the guys as
their voices rose in mirth and mock argument, and then Hiroshi
knew that that couldn't be why.  Well, whatever the reasons, Hiroshi
decided that, like it or not, Ranma was going to have a good time
tonight.  Already, Ranma, who looked like he had come alive
somewhat while driving away the bully, was withdrawing into
himself, returning to his earlier sullen demeanor.  Now, how to
break him out of it. . . ?
     "Are you NUTS?" exclaimed a loud voice from across the
fire, distracting him for a moment.  Hiroshi recognized Toshi, a
friend from one grade up.  "Keiko's better looking than Hiromi? 
Are you blind, man?"
     "No!  Are you?  There's, like, no comparison!"
     "You're right!  Hiromi's a hell of a lot better looking!"
     Getting drawn in despite himself, Hiroshi had to agree. 
Sure, the red-headed Keiko was cute, but the body on Hiromi was. .
. impressive, to say the least.  Beside, the one guy _had_ to defend
Keiko - he was dating her.   "Sorry, man, but I gotta agree with
Toshi." he said, addressing Keiko's stalwart defender.  "Just _look_
at Hiromi. . ."
     Somebody gave a little laugh. "Yeah, right.  Wonder what
he's looking at, eh?"
     At which point somebody else added: "Hey, should you
even be lookin'? Ain't you and Sayuri, you know. . ."
     "Hey!  It's not of your business!" exclaimed Hiroshi. 
"We've just gone on a few dates, that's all!"  Well, maybe not _all_,
but he didn't see any reason to share his personal life with these
guys.  Friends are friends, but some things you didn't share. 
Besides, Sayuri'd kill him if she ever found out.
     "Sorry, bud." added Daisuke from next to him.  "But I can't
agree with you, here.  Keiko is _definitely_ better looking. . ."
     "Ah, hell, you're both wrong!"
     Soon, a lively argument was underway.  As he listened (and
added the occasional comment), the conversation quickly grew to
encompass the largest part of the female population of Furinkan
High.  Seemed everybody had an opinion on who was the hottest
babe in school.  Hiroshi noticed that a couple of the girls walking by
gave them dirty looks, but he didn't really care.  Looking down at
the empty bottle in his hand, he realized that he was starting to feel. .
. rather good.  Grinning without any good reason, he turned to
Ranma - suddenly remembering his earlier decision - and noticed
that, though not adding anything, his friend had drawn a little closer
to the group, was listening avidly to everything with a slight smile
and attentive eyes.
     "Whaddya think, Ranma?" asked Hiroshi, and smiled. 
"Who's the best looking girl?"
     The group fell quiet, all eyes turning to Ranma.  And then:
"Yeah?  Who d'ya think, Ranma?  C'mon!"  Ranma paled slightly.
     "Well, ah. . . you know. . ." he stammered.
     Daisuke nudged him.  "C'mon, Ranma. . . you gotta have a
favourite. . . maybe that friend of Nabiki's, the one with the pig-tail? 
Eh?"
     "What?  No!  I. . . ah, you know. . ."  He stopped when he
realized everybody - or at least those who knew him - were grinning
at him.  "What?"
     "Guess it wasn't really a fair question. . ." said Toshi.
     "Yeah." added Hiroshi.  "What with him having Akane and
everything. . ."
     "HEY!" protested Ranma.  "Akane?  No way!"
     "No?"
     "No!  That Tomboy?  Ha!  She's..."
     "KAWAIKUNEE!" chorused the crowd, and laughed.  
     After a moment, Ranma grinned sheepishly.  "Yeah.  That's
right." he said.  "And it's not like I 'have' her, either!"
     "Really?" asked someone Hiroshi didn't recognize.  "You
don't love her?"
     "What?  No!" cried Ranma.
     "Oh?  So you wouldn't mind if I asked her out on a date?"
     "WHAT?" yelled Ranma, jumping to his feet.  "Akane's my
fia. . ."  He stammered to a stop as everyone burst into laughter at
him.  Blushing in embarrassment, he sat down again.  "Fine.  Ask
her.  See if I care. . ." he muttered, but cracked a little smile. 
Leaning forward a bit, he asked a question of his own.  "So, what,
do _you_ guys think she's good-looking?"
     There was a brief and somewhat uncomfortable silence
around the circle, which Hiroshi decided to break.  "Ah, Ranma?  I
don't think anyone's gonna touch that one.  But. . . just remember. 
Before you showed up here, Akane had to fight off about thirty guys
every morning.  What do you think?"
     "Yeah, I've still got the scar on my arm. . ." muttered
someone.
     "Ok, ok. . ." said Ranma.  "Well, then. . . what about. . .
Ucchan?"
     "Ucchan?"
     "Yeah, you know - Ukyou?"
     "Isn't he a boy?" asked Toshi.
     "Nah - just dresses as one." answered somebody else. 
"Actually, I've kinda wondered what she's like, under. . ."  But he
petered off as Ranma glared at him.
     "Ranma?  I don't think you're gonna get an answer on that
one, either.  She's another one of your fiancees.  That makes her off-
ground for us, you know?" said Daisuke.
     "Oh."  said Ranma.
     "Well, what about. . ." started someone else, and the
conversation took off again in a new direction.  Hiroshi leaned back
again and cracked open one of the bottle Daisuke had appropriated. 
As the conversation turned slightly raunchier - now the guys were
giving their frank appraisal of what women liked, or why they did
the incomprehensible things they did  - he noticed that Ranma drew
in even closer, avidly following every thread of the discussion,
though adding little himself.  Hiroshi wondered why; if anyone here
had the slightest clue on how to attract women, or how they think, it
was Ranma!  The guy had three fiancees and hordes of women
always chasing him!  And, of course, there was the small matter of
the curse. . .
     "Hey!  Why don't we ask Ranma?" suddenly asked Toshi's
friend, Kenji.  "You gotta know what the women like!"
     "Me?"  Ranma started at his sudden inclusion in the
conversation.  "Why me?"
     "Well, gee, maybe 'cus you've got three fiancees?"
     "And all those other girls chasing after you?"
     "Heck, you've been living with two of the best looking girls
in the school for, what, a year now?"
     "Whoa!" interrupted Ranma, raising his hands.  "I didn't
_ask_ for any of my fiancees, or any of those other girls!  They just. .
. happened!"  He paused for a moment, as if in thought.  "Although, I
guess, I was partly responsible. . . what with my devastatingly good
looks and charming personality, and all. . ."
     "Oh, please. . ." gagged someone.
     "And, of course, there's the Saotome art of Making-Women-
Fall-In-Love-With-You, which, being a family secret, I'm not at
liberty to share. . ."
     "I'm gonna be sick. . ."
     "And, of course, the martial arts.  Chicks dig the martial
arts."
     "Yeah, right.  Of course they do. . ." 
     "But. . . really. . . I don't have a clue how I do it!"  He gave
a grin - half arrogant, half playful - and shrugged.  "I guess some of
us are just naturals."
     "Gee, thanks a lot, Saotome. . ." grumbled Kenji.
     "Seriously, though, guys," continued Ranma, shuffling in a
little closer.  "D'ya think if I knew what made women happy, I'd
always be fighting with Akane?  I may live with her - but I certainly
can't figure her out!"
     "Oh."
     There was a brief lull as the sound of bottles being opened
all around rang out.  Kenji leaned forward after taking a drink.  "So
you're saying you don't know more about the way women think than
the rest of us guys?"
     "Nope."  Ranma shook his head.  "Why should I?"
     "I think. . ." growled a voice from behind Hiroshi, slightly
slurred.  "I think. . . they're askin'. . . 'cus you're a girl. . . yourself.
. ."
     There was a sudden frigid silence around the fire, and all
eyes turned to Ranma.  Under their scrutiny he stiffened, face
hardening.  Hiroshi had a bad feeling about this - a very bad feeling. 
There were certain subjects you simply didn't raise around Ranma:
his curse, his masculinity or lack thereof; and you never, ever,
called him a girl.
     "Excuse me?" he asked, voice dangerously cold.
     "I said, you'd know. . . 'cus your a girl."
     "That's what I thought you said."  Slowly and smoothly,
Ranma rose to his feet and turned towards the intruder.  "I.  Am.  A. 
Guy.  Got it?"  He glared as the figure approached.  "You got that,
Ryuta?  Or are you stupid?"
     Ryuta stepped closer, striding arrogantly up to Ranma.  The
bully was, at a quick comparison, the more intimidating of the two;
he was certainly taller, and thicker set, with coarse, rigid features,
and a drunken wildness to his eyes that was decidedly
uncomfortable.  But a glance at Ranma, at his intensity, at the sudden
deceptive looseness with which he held himself, made it obvious
who was the one to fear.
     "Oh, yeah, sure, a guy. . ." muttered Ryuta.  "My mistake."
     "I'm glad we got that cleared up."  Ranma said, still glaring.
     "Yeah."  Ryuta turned away, then paused.  "It's just that. . ."
he started.  "You sure _look_ like a girl!"  Ranma hopped back as
Ryuta spun around and punched forward; he avoided the strike with
ease - but the contents of Ryuta's glass hit him full in the face.
     Hiroshi groaned out loud.


     "Akane!"
     "Just a 'sec, okay?" she said, and turned away from Sayuri
as a friend hurried up with a concerned look on her face.  "Yes? 
What is it?"
     The girl came to a breathless stop.  "Akane!  There's. . . it
looks like there's going to be a fight outside!"
     Akane countenance darkened.  "It's Ranma, isn't it?"
     The girl nodded.
     "That idiot." she growled.  And after I made him promise
not to fight!  Couldn't she have at least _one_ night to herself, one
night where her baka, unwanted fiance didn't get himself into a
fistfight?  Well, she'd show him!  "Where is he?"
     "I think he's with Hiroshi and the guys - over by the fire."
     "So what's it about this time?"
     "I don't know - I think the other guy started it - but he's not
alone. . ."
     The other guy started it?  Not likely, considering Ranma. 
Well, she'd set everything straight - and she'd beat up both involved
parties if she had too!


     Ranma wiped the liquid from her eyes.  It wasn't water - it
was slightly sticky and smelt sweet, and stang her eyes a little - but
obviously it had been enough to do the job.  With unconscious ease
developed over innumerable accidental encounters with cold water,
she tightened the belt around her waist and adjusted her clothing.
     "See what I mean?" mocked Ryuta.  "You _are_ a girl!" 
Ranma berated herself for not dodging the splash, and proceeded to
eye her opponent critically.  The guy obviously knew how to fight;
not as a martial artist, perhaps - he didn't carry that air of calm
confidence and discipline with him - but most definitely as a
brawler, with an intensity that only experience brings.  Big, strong,
and probably pretty tough; drunk, too, which didn't help - she'd
fought Pop often enough after he'd come home after drinking too
much, yet stubbornly insisting on training, and knew what to expect.  
But after one got used to fighting the likes of Ryoga. . . well, chumps
like this simply didn't measure up.  There was only one problem:
the promise to Akane.  She wouldn't go back on her word; she
couldn't, even though every instinct was screaming at her to beat the
shit out of this jerk.
     "So, c'mon, Ranma. . ."  Ryuta stepped forward.  "What's it
like?  Eh?  What turns a girl on - what's it feel like?"
     The redhead too a deep breath.  She would _not_ be baited
into a fight.  This was. . . training, like for the Hiryu Shotenha; she
just had to keep a level head, and stay cool.  "Go away, Ryuta. . ."
Ranma forced her voice to stay calm, though there was a slight
tremor she couldn't avoid.  "I'm not interested in a fight."
     The larger boy ignored her and moved closer.  Ranma
noticed that he wasn't alone; the bully had brought along a few of
his bully friends, two of them flanking their leader and the other
making a pathetic attempt at sneaking up from behind..    "You
telling us you don't know?  You telling us you've never. . .
experimented?"
     "No.  I haven't." said Ranma, anger starting to grow.  "I'm
not some kind of pervert!"
     "I find that hard to believe.  C'mon, what's it like - having
your breasts felt up?"
     "I wouldn't know."
     "No?  Maybe you've gone further. . . maybe tried it with a
guy, eh, you little sex-changing freak?  What's it like, feeling some
guy inside of you, huh?  Grinding away at you, thrusting, his hands
all over. . ."
     Ranma felt the blood pounding in her ears, her rage building,
the leash restraining her anger slipping.  The presence of the crowd
thrust itself upon her awareness, their whispering coming to her
peripherally: some of the guys she'd been chatting with, who knew
her, wondering why she hadn't taken Ryuta down yet; others, who
hadn't been there, but recognized her, unsurprised that she'd started
a fight - "oh, look, it's Ranma, fighting again, big surprise. . .", they
said; and the others, the curious, the surprised, wondering "who's
that girl" or "shouldn't we do something, she's going to get hurt" ,
but no one actually doing anything, after all, it wasn't any of _their_
business, and Uehara was a really _big_ guy.  And then the other
whispers, the ones that hurt: "Do ya think she saying the truth?",
"Maybe Ryuta's right. . .", "I always knew he was a pervert!".  So
she spoke, to drown out the voices with her own, words half-choked
with fury and shame, louder and shriller than she would have liked. 
"Don't. . . don't, Ryuta.  Don't push me.  I - I promised I wouldn't
get into a fight tonight - don't make me break my word.  Don't."  A
deep shuddering breath, an attempt to regain control.  And then, "I'm
a man".
     Uehara swaggered a step closer, sneering down at the
diminutive girl, close and towering over her.  "I always knew it." he
stated in a cold, hard whisper, drunkenness fading before sudden
meanness.  "Scared.  You're all lies and reputation.  A joke."
     "You're the joke, Ryuta." she replied with equal edge and
volume.  "You're just a pathetic bully."
     To her surprise, he nodded.  "Maybe I am.  But at least I'm
honest about it."
     Her eyes narrowed.  "What?"
     "I'm a bully.  Sure.  I know it.  But so are you - but you don't
even know it.  Who's the one who's pathetic?" 
     "I am _not_ like you!"
     "Yeah?"  He made a sudden, wide gesture, taking in the
silent, straining crowd surrounding them.  "Look at those wimps,
those little shits.  They're afraid of me, and they do what I want 'cus
they're afraid of me.  Do you really think they fear you any less? 
Did you think they were your _friends_?"
     "They. . . they _are_ my friends!" insisted Ranma.
     Ryuta stared down at her for a long moment, before one
corner of his smile twisted up in a sneer.  " I just realized how well
that body suits you.  You're a coward, Saotome."
     "Am I?  Challenge me and find out, asshole!"
     He looked at her for a moment, then laughed.  "I couldn't.  I
don't fight girls." he said, loudly, and turned away.
     The words resounded through Ranma's mind, Ryuta's
patronizing laugh a taunt, his turned back an insult.  She felt her fist
clench convulsively by her side.  "I'm a MAN!" she yelled after
him.  "You hear me?  I'm more a man than you'll ever be!"  No one
turns their back on her, her mind screamed, not while she's still
standing, not after insulting her like that - not Ryoga, not Mousse, not
Kuno, and most certainly not a pathetic, weak, _lying_ little bastard
bully like Ryuta Uehara!  "Come back here and face me like one! 
I'll show you how much of a man I really am!"
     He paused, and after a beat, slowly turned around to face
her.  Ranma could feel the tension around her, everyone holding
their breath.  And then he smiled, and gave her the most infuriatingly
condescending look.  "Cute, ain't she?" he smirked.  "Must be that
time of the month."
     Shame possessed her, quickly transforming into anger.  She
flowed forward, riding the fury, feral grin and furious eyes lighting
her face, animalistic gleeful snarl escaping her lips.  Her tormenter
couldn't follow, he was slow, far, far too slow to react in time.  His
tentative guard was knocked away, yanked forward, her other hand
latching onto his armpit, fingers and thumb digging into muscle
viciously, leg hooking in, snapping straight, breaking his stance. 
She could smell the alcohol clinging to him, the sudden fear, feel as
he tried to pull away, see the surprise and pain rise in his eyes as he
stumbled forward, and then the sudden wince, the eyes almost
rolling back, as she buried her knee into his crotch.  He curled up
and collapsed, but still she held him; her grim smile tightened as she
smashed her fist forward, downwards, the rush of adrenalin proving
that she was a _man_. . . 
     "RANMA!"
     Her fist froze, bottom three knuckles flush against the arch of
Ryuta's nose.  A sudden coldness and dread seized her stomach,
almost painful in its intensity.  She glanced down at the arm still
held in her right hand, relaxed her hold, saw the line of red jagged
marks in the wrist left by her tight grip and nails.  Absently releasing
the limb, Ranma turned to face Akane.
     "A. . . Akane. . ."
     "What are you DOING?" she demanded, stalking forward.
     "I. . . It's not my fault!" Ranma protested.
     "How can you _say_ that?  Look at you - bullying that guy!"
     "Bull. . . bullying?"  Ranma tossed Ryuta aside, her anger
shifting to Akane.  "The jerk started it!"
     "Like I'm going to believe that!  Like I care!  You promised
me - no fighting!"
     "I didn't want to!  What could I do!"
     "Ignored him!  Walked away!"
     "What?" Ranma cried.  "Are you stupid?  You didn't hear. .
."
     "What did you call me?"  Akane yelled.
     "Oh, so you listen to me _now_, huh?"  She yelled back. 
"Stupid tomboy!"
     "You jerk!" she screamed, her hand lashing out.  Ranma felt
the all-too familiar pain explode in the side of her face, and
staggered slightly.   "You just had to ruin my night, didn't you! 
Everything was going fine, and you just had to screw it up!" 
     "But I. . . I. . ."  But what can I say, thought Ranma, and the
anger suddenly drained away.  Akane was right.  It was unfair -
totally so - but Akane was right.  I broke my promise; I've ruined
Akane's night.  A groan displaced her attention: Ryuta, clutching his
groin, one foot scrabbling in the dirt and vainly trying to stand, push
away.  The fight had never been about who was stronger, Ranma
suddenly realized.  Uehara had known he couldn't beat Ranma in a
fight.  But the fight he had initiated - the real fight - Uehara had won
hands down.  I shouldn't have lost my temper, she berated herself. 
But what else could I have done?  Ryuta had pushed, pushed too
much and too far.  Ranma was surprised she's managed to hold back
as long as she had.  She looked around: the other bullies were
backing off, obviously frightened now that their leader was down;
Hiroshi and the guys were staring at her and Akane, mixed glances
of curiosity, amusement, and annoyance; the others watched with
surprise at the sudden violence, victory, and words of the strange
and small girl, or in shock as the curse was revealed to them for the
first time; and, buried just beneath the surface of all, did Ranma
detect just the slightest glimmer of fear at the unexpected
viciousness of her attack - was Ryuta right?
     And then, turning back to the source of the new conflict: he
saw the girls who had followed Akane, glaring at Ranma like she
was some kind of bug, the cause of all their friend's problems; and
finally Akane, disgusted, enraged, sick of her fiancee and angry as
usual.  Everything was so quiet, everyone looking at Ranma, the
party disrupted, the fun ruined.  She wasn't wanted here.  She didn't
belong here.  Ryuta was right.
     "Fuck this." muttered Ranma.   "I don't know why I
bothered."
     She turned her back on them all and walked away.


     "Ranma. . ."  Whispered Akane after a moment of shock,
taking a hesitant step after the pig-tailed girl.
     A hand fell on her shoulder.  It was her friend, Sayuri. 
"Don't bother, Akane." she said.  "There's no point.  You'll just end
up fighting, you know you will.  Give her a chance to cool down."
     "But. . ."
     "Didn't you come here to have a good time?"  Sayuri waited
a moment, until Akane nodded glumly.  "Well, it's not going to
happen if you chase after Ranma.  This is your night out, isn't it? 
Then let her sulk!  Maybe she'll come back and apologize - though I
doubt it - but why worry?"
     Akane looked after Ranma's retreating form.  She could hear
the whispering around her;  maybe it hadn't been Ranma's fault,
after all.  But Ranma had promised!  And yet. . . and yet, she had
seemed so tired, so sick of the fighting and the arguing, so open and
hurt right before turning away.  Should she go after her?
     "Hey, look!"  Sayuri's hand suddenly grabbed Akane's. 
"My friend from Tomoboki just got here!  C'mon, you just gotta
meet her!  I know you'll just get along great!"  Akane found herself
being dragged back into the house.  
     She spared a last look outside after Ranma; she was already
gone.


     When he caught up, she was already stepping out onto the
street, heavy iron gate about to clang shut behind her.  She paused
for a moment and stared down at the ground, one hand holding the
gate open; and then, with a shaking of her head, she seemed to come
to a decision.  She pulled away from the house.
     "Ranma!  Wait!" shouted Hiroshi.
     The redhead hesitated for a moment, and stopped.  She
didn't turn around, but she allowed Hiroshi to catch up, stopping the
gate from clanging shut with her foot.
     "Ranma. . ." he started, slightly winded.
     "What do you want. . ." she sighed, sparing him a brief
glance.  He was surprised at the look on her face - he'd never seen
Ranma like this, never seen a depressed or tired side to her.  Was
this what she was like outside of school?  Or at home?  I really
don't know much about her, he suddenly realized.
     "I. . . Don't go, Ranma." said Hiroshi.  "You don't have to
leave."
     "You're right, Hiroshi.  I don't _have_ to leave."  She turned
away from him.  "I _want_ to leave."
     "But. . ."
     "But what?" she interrupted in a tired voice.  "What's the
use of staying?  So I can start another fight?  Piss off Akane again? 
Maybe ruin the night for everybody else, too?  Yeah.  Good idea,
Hiroshi, real good. . ."  She gave him one last look through the bars
of the gate, then stepped away.
     Hiroshi watched as his friend left.  Damn, but it wasn't fair,
he thought.  For once, it really hadn't been her fault; for once,
everybody _wanted_ her to beat up the jerk.  If she hadn't been
there, Ryuta would have doubtlessly started the fight with somebody
else - and probably won as well.  Maybe the party had been
disrupted, a bit, but at least no one had been hurt!  No, decided
Hiroshi.  Ranma wasn't leaving that easily.  She deserved to have
fun, too, once in a while.  He slipped through the gate and ran up
behind his friend.
     She tensed as Hiroshi pulled her back with a hand on her
shoulder.  "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded.
     "I'm stopping you from leaving, Ranma.  What happened
back there wasn't your fault, no matter what anyone says!  If you
hadn't been there. . . well, Ryuta probably would've beat up
Daisuke earlier, and picked a fight with someone else, anyway!"
     Ranma shrugged her shoulders.  "Probably.  So what?  I'm
not leaving 'cus of the fight, Hiroshi.  I'm not even leaving 'cus of
Akane."  Hiroshi noticed her face darkened as she spoke the last
name.
     "You're not?"
     "Nah."  She shook her head, and sighed.  "But I realized
something, right after.  I looked around, Hiroshi.  Looked at
everybody, looking at me.  And Akane.  And I realized - I didn't
belong there.  Maybe Akane does - she grew up here, she's gone to
Furinkan all along - but I don't.  The way everybody was looking;
not like I was their friend, but. . . but like I was some kinda freak. .
."  Her gaze dropped to the ground.  "Like some kind of
_dangerous_ freak. . ."
     "Hey!" protested Hiroshi.  "That's not true!"
     "Isn't it?  Maybe.  But if not that. . . then I was the guy who's
always fighting.  Or causing trouble.  I'm the cross-dressing pervert,
or the casanova, who's always arguing with his fiancee.  Akane and
I aren't even a real couple - we're a sideshow to keep you guys
amused."  She let out a deep breath and leaned against the outside
wall of Kiyoshi's residence.  "I just don't fit in, Hiroshi.  Those
guys in there, everybody. . . they're just not my crowd, I guess."
     "Then who is?"
     "I. . . don't know, Hiroshi.  I really don't know."
     He stared at his friend is disbelief.  Was Ranma. . . lonely? 
Hiroshi had trouble believing that.  Ranma had everything: the good-
looks (as both guy and girl), the skill, the strength, the charisma; she
had three fiancees, and other gorgeous girls chasing after her; she
was engaged to, arguably, the most popular girl in school, and
Ranma, herself, was arguably the most popular guy.  How could
Ranma possibly be depressed?  She could have any girl at school, if
she wanted, or, for that matter, probably any guy.  Tried as he might,
Hiroshi couldn't understand.  But it didn't matter if he did or not. 
His friend was feeling down, and it was his job to cheer her up.
     "Listen, Ranma." he said, after a few moments of silence.  "I
don't know about all that; maybe you're right, maybe not.  But I do
know that, before Ryuta came along, you were having a good time. 
Weren't you?"
     She seemed a little surprised.  "Ye. . . yeah, I guess so. . ."
     "Did you feel out of place?  Like you didn't fit in?  Didn't
seem like it, to me at least.  We were talking, you were talking, hell,
everybody was laughing and drinking and having a good time!  I
don't see what the big deal is!"
     "But. . ."
     "But what?  So you had a fight with Akane!  So what?  You
think any one of those guys sitting around the fire hasn't had at least
one argument with a girlfriend?  So yours are a bit more violent, a
bit more. . . vocal; that's just the way you and Akane are!"
     "But. . ."
     "No." stated Hiroshi, grabbing Ranma's wrist and pulling
her towards the party.  "No excuses.  You're coming back with me. 
You're having a good time tonight, no matter what!"
     "Hey!  Waitasec!"  Hiroshi wasn't holding on to Ranma
anymore, as the girl slipped her wrist free.  "Listen, thanks, I
appreciate it, but I just _can't_ go back with you!"
     "Why the hell not?" he asked, a little confused.
     "Well, just look at me!"
     He did so.  He liked what he saw.  "Yeah, so?"
     "I'm a girl, stupid!  That group around the fire - they're all
guys.  It's an all-guy thing, Hiroshi, and I'm a girl.  I don't belong."
     With a snort of disgust he grabbed her wrist again, and
yanked the gate open with his other hand.  "That's a pretty lame
excuse, Ranma.  You're a guy - we all know that!  We don't care
what you look like!  And we can get you some hot water from the
house, anyway."  He noted with some satisfaction that this time, at
least, she allowed herself to be pulled forward.  She had a
thoughtful look on her face, and the slightest of smiles.
     "Ok.  Fine." she said.  "I'll stay for a little while.  But forget
the hot water.  Akane's in that house - no way in hell I'm risking
bumping into that kawaikunee, violent. . ."
     "Tomboy?" supplied Hiroshi.
     "Yeah.  I'll just stay like this."
     "'kay." agreed Hiroshi, leading the way.
     "Oh, and, bud. . . thanks.  I appreciate this."
     "No problem, Ranma."
     "And, Hiroshi. . ."
     "Yeah."
     "Would you mind letting go of my hand?"
     He grinned.  "Oh.  Sorry."
     They rounded the corner of the house.  Before them, the party
was once more in full swing.  The pool was splashing, the music
was blaring, and the guys were sitting around the fire.  With a nod in
their direction, Hiroshi led the way.   "C'mon, Ranma.  You won't
regret this!  We'll make this a night you'll never forget. . ."



     With a sigh, Akane stepped out onto the second floor
balcony, looking over the backyard and the festivities.  Damn, she
was trying, but she just couldn't relax!  Stupid Ranma - leaving like
that, leaving her all tense and stressed out and. . .  and worried, she
added with a frown.
     Why?  Why did she let him get to her like that?  It wasn't fair
- he starts the trouble, and she's the one left feeling guilty.  The jerk
was probably over at Ukyou's, anyway, eating okonomiyaki,
complaining about his 'kawaikunee' fiancee to his 'kawaii' fiancee. 
Her grip tightened on the railing.  Stupid jerk!  She glanced back
into the house: the balcony led into the master bedroom, and she
suddenly noticed the silhouette of a couple making out on the bed. 
She blushed and turned away, but for some reason the afterimage
remained with her.  Akane suddenly realized that she felt. . .
envious, of that unknown couple on the bed.  Kissing, hugging -
what's it like, she wondered, to be _close_ to someone, a boyfriend,
someone who cared for her?  But I hate boys!, she reminded herself,
but it didn't help alleviate her melancholy.  She tried to imagine her
and Ranma in a similar situation, and gave a mirthless laugh.  Not
likely.  Stupid baka.
     Maybe she could go for a swim, she thought, trying to
distract herself, then remembered that she'd probably drown if she
did.  She looked down at the pool enviously.  One day, maybe. . . 
>From there, her gaze drifted to the scene of the fight.  The fight. 
What had happened?  Had it been Ranma's fault?  Whatever had
happened, it had left him furious - she had seen the intensity, the
savageness of his assault.  Whatever.  She didn't want to think about
it, about Ranma.  Sudden movement caught her eye: someone joining
the group sitting around the fire the guys had claimed as their own. 
Rather unfair of them, she thought.  But. . . wait!  She narrowed her
eyes, trying to make out who was sitting by the fire.  It was hard, the
light was directly behind them, but. . . was that a flash of red hair?
     And then a cry rang out, a chorus of 'KAWAIKUNEE!', and
the figure glanced back nervously.  Their eyes met - it was Ranma,
laughing.  Upon recognizing Akane, her smile faded.  A moment 
passed, and then Ranma frowned and looked away, turning her back
to Akane.
     Akane growled in frustration.  Here I was, worried!, she
thought.  And there's the jerk, yukking it up!  Well, fine!  If he can
have fun - then so can I! 
     With an indignant sniff, she spun away and stormed back into
the house, ignoring the motions on the bed as she passed them by.


     "Shhhh. . ." hissed Ranma.  "You tryin' to get me killed?"
     The guys looked at each other for a moment, and as a group,
shouted: "KAWAIKUNEE!", which quickly degenerated into a fit of
somewhat-drunken giggling.  Hiroshi watched in amusement as
Ranma, laughing as well, glanced around nervously.  For a moment
she froze, staring up at the house; Hiroshi followed her gaze and
thought he caught a glimpse of Akane.  When Ranma turned back to
the fire, she was frowning.
     "Hey, what is it?" he asked, nudging her.  The conversation
carried on without them, Daisuke desperately trying to convince the
guys that _he_ had dumped _her_, and not the other way around.
     "Nothin'" muttered Ranma in response.  A moment later she
turned to Hiroshi with an intense look in her eyes.  "Listen. . . do
you have any of that beer left?"
     "Uh, yeah, I guess. . ." he answered, surprised.
     "Would'ya mind if I borrowed some?  I'll pay you back, I
promise. . ."
     "Don't worry about it."  He pulled one out, but hesitated
before handing it over.  "Are you sure you want one?"
     She nodded.  Almost reluctantly, he gave Ranma the beer. 
She immediately popped it open and sucked down half the bottle in
a single swig; it seemed Ranma drank the same way she did
everything else - wholeheartedly.  When she came up for air her
face wrinkled into a grimace.
     "What, you don't like it?' asked Daisuke, leaning over.  She
shrugged and took another drink. 
     "Say. . . you ever drink before, Ranma?" asked Hiroshi, still
a little worried.  He had the sudden feeling that maybe Ranma
wasn't in the best of moods to be drinking.
     "Yup." she answered.  "Remember that stupid Romeo and
Juliet play from way-back?"  Hiroshi and Daisuke, and a few of the
other guys who were listening, nodded.  "Remember that bottle of
sake Kuno poured down my throat?"
     "Oh yeah!" said Daisuke.  "So, what, that was your first time
drinking?"
     "Well, as a girl, anyway." answered Ranma.
     Daisuke looked at his friend and shrugged.  It wasn't like
Ranma needed him to look over her or anything - she could take care
of herself, realized Hiroshi.  He wasn't too sure why it was
bothering him; it was just that he had this nagging feeling that maybe
she shouldn't be drinking - at least not until she got things squared
with Akane.  That brought a grin to his face; if Ranma waited for
_that_, she'd _never_ get to drink!  With a shake of his head he
decided to let it go, and instead of worrying he sat back comfortably
and drank a bit more, and listened.  The name of Kuno had come up,
and everyone was taking potshots at the oh-so-well-respected Blue
Thunder.  Ranma, in particular, had some rather caustic things to
add, growing in vehemence as she started her second beer (this one
donated by Daisuke).  Seemed she was quite tired of being groped
by him, fondled by him, and having flowers sent to her.  When asked
why she didn't just tell him who she was, or tell him she wasn't
interested, or just beat him up, she responded that she had tried all
three, several times, sometimes simultaneously - but he just didn't
get it.  There was a general laugh at Kuno's expense, and the
conversation moved on.
     The time flew quickly.  People came and left, they talked,
they laughed, wood was piled on the fire as it started to burn low. 
There were brief lulls, occasionally, especially after someone
mentioned something particularly deep or moving (or what passed
as such after a few drinks), but eventually it would start up again. 
And no matter what range of topics they passed through - be it
school, teachers, parents, sports, Nerima, plans for the future - they
would always invariably return to the opposite sex.  And so they
talked, and drank.
     One particular comment caught Hiroshi's attention.  Kiyoshi
- the party-thrower himself - had joined the group for a moment, and
was complaining loudly about his girlfriend, Kaori.  He wasn't all
that popular of a guy, aside for his parties, but since he was the host,
everyone listened politely.
     ". . .and so she cancelled on me!  Just like that!  Broke the
date!  And do you know why?  I can't believe this - she ruined a
perfectly good date I'd be planning for weeks, and I lost the
reservation money and everything! - she said she couldn't come out
because of cramps!  She said it hurt too much!" he said, ending by
mimicking a whining voice.  "As if!  I know girls hafta deal with
that crap, but as if it hurts that much!  If she just didn't want to go out
with. . ."
     "Oh, shut up!" interrupted Ranma, sounding disgusted.  "You
don't gotta clue what you're talkin' about, okay?"
     "Huh?" responded Kiyoshi, obviously wondering, somewhat
drunkenly, who had interrupted him.
     "If Kaori said it hurt that much, believe her, 'kay?  'Cus it
does - it can.  Sometimes it ain't so bad - and some other times,
well. . . it is.  You ain't never felt it, Kiyoshi - it bites, man, it
really, really bites."
     "And how would you know, huh?"
     Ranma glared at him evenly.  "Think about it. . ."
     He did so, for a moment, and his eyes widened.  "Oh. 
Ohhhh, oh yeah.  I. . . forgot." he ended lamely, and soon left.  An
uncomfortable silence was left in his wake, during which Hiroshi
leaned towards Ranma.  She was staring down at the ground,
blushing furiously, perhaps suddenly realizing that maybe she'd
admitted a bit more than she'd cared too, and probably wishing that
she'd skipped that last drink.
     "So, you mean, you, ah. . ."
     She nodded mutely.
     "And it, ah, hurts?"
     "Yeah.  Sometimes."
     "Sheesh.  I never, ah, realized that, you know. . ."
     She shrugged.  "It's not something I like to talk about,
obviously.  It's. . . it's kinda embarrassing; I'm a guy, but I gotta
deal with that crap."  With a depressed sigh she drooped a bit,
finger tracing an abstract doodle in the dirt.  "Hell, if it was just the
pain, it wouldn't be so bad - I'm used to pain, I can take it no
problem; it's the other stuff.  The blood and other shit.  Or the way it
makes me feel, right before.  It really sucks. . ."
     "My girlfriend says that sometimes it makes her cry, for no
reason." supplied a classmate from across the fire.  "Well,
sometimes, anyway."
     Ranma raised her head and glared at him.  "I _don't_ cry!"
she insisted.  "Men don't cry."  Then she softened slightly.  "But,
yeah, I've seen Akane act that way a few times.  Really had me
confused 'till I figured what was wrong with her - 'till I felt it
myself.  But not me - it doesn't hit me that way; but I can still tell, I
know it's affecting me, I find myself acting. . . weird, sometimes.  It
scares me."
     Hiroshi looked at his friend with some surprise, as Ranma
returned her unseeing stare to the dancing flames.  He'd had no idea
about any of this; he'd always known that Ranma hated turning into a
girl, was desperate to do anything to get rid of the curse - but he'd
never known it affected her this deeply, so profoundly. . . that it
_scared_ her.
     "That's when it really hit me. . ."  Hiroshi suddenly realized
that Ranma was still talking, hardly above a whisper, more to
herself than anyone.  He doubted than anybody else could hear. 
"When it happened the first time.  I was still in China, and there
hadn't been any hot water for a while.  When the cramps started, I
ignored them - I figured it was the strange food, or something.  And
if I was a bit short tempered, or depressed - well, I figured I had
every reason to be.  But then the bleeding started.  It freaked me
right out.  Pop wasn't much help, either: first he was ashamed of me,
and then, when he actually explained it, he messed it up and ended
up scaring me worse.  But that's when I first truly realized it - I was
a girl.  In everyway.  Every month, it reminds me of what I am -
every month, it scares me, and makes me wonder if I'm a little less a
man, if a little more of me has slipped away, just. . . bled away." 
And then suddenly, Ranma was looking right at him, eyes burning in
the firelight, very serious. "I don't know why I'm telling you this,
Hiroshi.  But I'm trusting you, man.  I. . . I don't want anyone else
knowing about this stuff."
     Stunned, Hiroshi could only numbly nod his head.  He
wasn't sure how he felt.  Did he even want to know this stuff?  But
he couldn't help but feel a little honoured that Ranma would share
something this deep, this personal with him.  Sure, the alcohol had
probably been largely responsible, but this still meant something. 
He wondered if Ranma had even shared these feelings with Akane -
if she even could.
     When he looked back up, Ranma was answering another
question.  That moment, that look, when she'd been whispering and
baring her fears to him, was gone.  There was the same slight
roughness, that cocky self-confidence, if somewhat discomfitted
attitude that he used with the other guys.  
     "Sheesh.  Can't we just let it drop?"  She was saying. 
"Yeah, I've even gotta keep track of that stupid cycle - I make a
special effort to stay dry during that time.  Kasumi showed me
how."  She ended with a drink and muttered something about stupid
curses and stupider fathers.
     A hesitant question interrupted her complaining.  "So. . . ah.
. . what does, you know, it feel like?"
     She opened her mouth to answer, then closed it.  She ended
up just kind of waving her hand around uselessly in a gesture meant
to convey something she couldn't explain.  "I. . . I don't know.  You
couldn't understand.  It's well. . . well, you feel it in. . . damn.  You
just don't got the right parts, you know?  I can't describe it. . ."  A
couple of the guys squirmed uncomfortably after that, and finally let
it drop.  But Hiroshi had one last question.
     "Ranma, if you have, you know. . ."
     "Yeah."
     "Then I guess that means that, as a girl, you've got, you
know, all the. . . parts, right?"
     She stared at him for a moment before nodding.  "Yeah."
     "So that means that, ah, theoretically speaking, you could,
you know, get. . ."
     "I don't like to think about that." she said, glaring at him. 
"And neither should you."
     Hiroshi wisely decided to drop the subject.  It took several
moments for everyone to pick up again, but eventually people were
talking, obviously trying to not think about Ranma's little admission. 
She seemed all to happy to let it go and drink some more.  But she
didn't stay quiet for long, as Toshi, who had disappeared for a
while, returned and sat down.
     "So, Ranma. . ." he asked from across the fire, his speech
slurred.  "You never. . . you didn't tell us. . . which girl it was you
liked. . . thought was cutest!"
     The redhead blushed, her face already rather flushed from
drinking and her last contribution to the conversation.  She had a
slightly glazed look to her eyes.  She looked at the ground in
embarrassment, and mumbled something unintelligible.
     "Huh?" asked the guy next to her, prodding her.  'We didn't
get that. . ."
     "Ah. . . ak. . . Akane." she muttered, then glared defiantly (if
somewhat unsteadily) at everyone.
     "I knew it!" cried the group, more or less in unison.  "He
_does_ like her!"
     "Hey!" she exclaimed.  "I didn't say that!  I didn't!  I only
said she was cute!"
     "Sure, whatever!"
     "No!  S'true!  And only when she smiles!  And 'specially
not when she's chasin' me with that mallet!"
     Her protests were overridden by laughter, and after a
moment of false anger, she joined in.  Around that time Daisuke
plopped down heavily next to Hiroshi.
     "Hey man, where were you?" asked Hiroshi, dropping out of
the conversation.  Ranma was still protesting loudly his feelings for
Akane.
     Daisuke smiled.  "Just checkin' on something." he said, then
nodded towards the group.  "What's up?"
     "Nothin' much. . ." smirked Hiroshi.  "Ranma just admitted
that she likes Akane."
     "What!" cried Daisuke.  "And I missed it!  Shit!"
     "Yo, Daisuke!" called out Ranma, drawing both guys back
into the talk.  "What about you?  Which girl you like?  Which one
you think's the cutest?"
     Hiroshi watched as his friend blushed, looking away.  He
was curious himself - Daisuke never really spoke about it much. 
Except. . . Hiroshi caught the brief, momentary sideways glance that
his friend tried to hide, and suddenly, he knew.  He'd almost
forgotten, actually: all the little looks Daisuke secretly threw her
way, the mild infatuation he seemed to have.  He couldn't help it -
Hiroshi burst out in laughter.
     "What?  What is it?  You know?" asked Ranma.
     "Oh yeah!  I know!" he chortled.
     "Who?"
     "Oh, good choice, my friend!" he said, slapping his friend on
the back.  "Excellent taste in women, I must say!"
     "Who is it?" asked Kenji, echoed by the others.  "She good
looking?"
     "You betcha!  You even know her - she's at this party!"
     "Really?"  The guys started craning their necks, looking
about to see what had clued Hiroshi in.  "Where is she?"  Next to
him Daisuke was shaking his head, a slightly panicked look on his
face, but Hiroshi ignored him.
     "Oh, she's closer than you think.  In fact - you could say
she's right here. . . sitting with us!"
     There was a brief silence, and then everybody's eyes slowly
turned to Ranma.  She looked around in confusion for a moment,
then glanced down at herself, then back up at the group.  Her eyes
opened in shock.  "What, me?"
     The guys looked among themselves for a moment, then
shrugged.  "Hell, Daisuke's got a point."
     "Yeah.  Cute face. . ."
     "A redhead!  With long hair!"
     "Nice legs. . ."
     "Hot bod. . ."
     Ranma stared for a moment in disbelief as they laughed.  The
oddest expression crossed her face, profound embarrassment
struggling a certain perverse pride.  Apparently, ego won out.
"What?  Guys. . . I'm. . . I'm hurt!" she said, arching her back
slightly, reaching down and cupping her breasts, lifting them a bit. 
"You forgot to mention how stacked I am!"  She grinned and took a
drink.
     For a moment no one seemed to know how to respond to
that, until Hiroshi lifted his bottle.  "Uhhh. . . yeah." he said, but
then, after a moment's thought, he smiled wickedly and added:
"She's got a point!  We weren't doing her justice!"  He turned to her
and bowed slightly.  "On behalf of everyone here, I apologize." 
Then, returning his attention to everyone else, he continued.  "And
on that note, I think we have a winner, don't you think?"
     There was a brief exchange of glances, at first confused but
quickly clearing up, and soon everyone's grin matched Hiroshi's. 
There was general nodding all around, except from Ranma who
appeared somewhat confused.  "Huh?  Winner?  What for?" she
asked.
     Hiroshi smiled as he explained.  "Well, you see. . . every
year, when Kiyoshi throws this party of his, there's a tradition we
guys follow ('tradition?' someone added, 'it's only the second
time!'): after much deliberation ('and drinking!' someone else
added), we, the men of Furinkan High, declare the official hottest
babe of Furinkan.  And you, Ranma, by unanimous vote, have been
declared that babe!  Congratulations!"
     There was a round of applause, and then Daisuke stood up. 
"Well, that's done." he declared.  "Time for a swim, I think."  There
was a quick chorus of agreement, and everybody leapt to their feet,
some more unsteadily than other.
     They were half-way to the pool before they realized they'd
left Ranma behind, still sitting stunned by the fire.

***

	Oddly enough, from the feedback I received on the TempML, people 
found that to be a good ending place... wasn't meant to be, but if it 
works, great!  Although I plan on finishing this chapter once finals are 
over (and moving on to the next).
	Anyway, just a few comments:
	-in the earlier draft, the fight between Ranma and Ryuta was a 
little different.  I changed it to this, but I'm not sure this is much 
better.  Did it work?
	-the only other 'major' changes were the little bit of 
introspection on Akane's part, and that whispered part that Hiroshi picks 
up near the end.
	-what's next?  Not much - the chapter's almost finished.  Just a 
little swimming, a little more fighting between Ranma and Akane, and some 
other stuff.  And then on to Choices: Dilemma.

	Later!
	-Mike Noakes
	(And, as always, feedback - even the really nasty stuff - is welcome).