The Rose and the Worm
By David Homerick
Based on "Ranma 1/2" by Rumiko Takahashi
Chapter 4
There's a pig in my yard.
He's a little black potbellied pig, about the size of a pickle jar,
with a bit of cloth tied about his neck. I only spotted him because I
heard a little snuffling grunt as I was fishing for my keys. Opening
the door, I set my groceries inside and sit on the steps to watch.
He comes slowly up the long front walk to the step, pauses, turns to
his left and walks out onto the lawn, stops, turns back and crosses the
walk, passing under my legs, steps back out onto the lawn, turns back
again, and bumps against my foot. Raising his head, he blinks at me.
"Hello there," I say. "I'm Kodachi. What's your name?"
He seems to consider that, then gives a little squeal: Bweeee?
"I don't suppose you speak Japanese? I'm afraid I don't speak pig."
He shakes his head, for all the world as if he understood me. How
charming! He must be someone's pet; he's well-trained, and, well, there
aren't a lot of stray pigs in Tokyo.
"Are you lost?"
He nods this time, and so I gather him into my hands. He struggles at
first, but calms as I cradle him against my chest. I step into the
house and close the door.
There once was a horse name Clever Hans, who could, his owner claimed
answer simple math problems by tapping a hoof. It turned out, however,
that Hans was simply watching the people around him in order to tell
when he had tapped his hoof enough times. I know that I must have been
giving off similar clues, but it's still very tempting to think that
this is a special pig, not just a specially trained one.
He's fallen asleep. I set him on the kitchen countertop as I put my
groceries away. I know he's someone's pet, but I am so tempted to keep
him anyway. This huge place feels so empty without my brother.
I put on some rice. Do pigs eat rice? I've been cooking simpler
meals since my brother has gone--the nice ones take more work than
they're worth, and plain rice with a few vegetables seems like enough
for just me. The pig is awake again; the counter must be uncomfortable.
"I'm going to mash some rice for you," I tell him. "I hope you like
it. I haven't cooked for anyone in a while." He nods. So cute.
I haven't had a pet in ages. When I was younger, I wanted a kitten,
but Mama said it would be hard to take care of, and hinted that Daddy
might be willing to buy me a turtle. Well, a turtle wasn't a kitten,
but I could play with it, and it could eat from my hand, and I could
have it in a little glass cage in my room at night. A turtle would be
okay, I thought. So I asked Daddy for a turtle for Christmas.
Christmas came, and under the tree was a red box with holes in the
sides. I opened it, and inside was an ugly little lizard-thing that bit
me.
"It's a baby alligator," Daddy said. "Gonna grow up big and strong.
Gonna have lotsa sharp teeth." He gave a great big laugh, slapping his
thighs. "Sharp sharp teeth." Mama looked at me helplessly.
"It's not a turtle," I whispered.
"Maybe ... maybe you could name it 'Turtle?'" Mama whispered back.
I dropped it on the floor, where it crouched unmoving. Tatchi got down
and poked it with his finger, and it tried to bite him. I ran for the
stairs, up to my room, ad Mama came after me.
"I'm sorry, Kotchi," she said, as I lay on my bed sobbing. "Your Daddy
found out about the baby alligators and thought one would be good
protection for you. I tried to talk him out of it, but you know how he
is."
"You said I could have a turtle," I moaned. "You said. But Daddy
bought a horrible monster and you let him." She didn't answer, just
stood in the doorway, looking sad. But the turtle was only a
compromise, and I really wanted a kitten ...
Am I crying? I reach up and touch my eyes. I am. I can't believe I'm
crying over something that happened when I was eleven. "I really wanted
a kitten," I whisper.
The pig nudges my arm and looks up at me. I gather him up and hug him,
burying my face in his stiff bristles. I'm keeping him. I don't care
who he belongs to; he's mine now.
"I wanted a kitten," I say, and kiss his snout. "Will you be my little
black kitten? I know you're not a cat, but I'm good at pretending." He
seems stunned. I hug him again. "I've had lots of practice, and I know
you can't purr."
I stir-fry some vegetables to go with the rice, and we share a meal. I
wonder what happened to Midorigame? My brother must have gotten rid of
him. Midorigame eventually learned not to bite me, but my brother
always had to watch his feet.
I take Kuroneko up to my room.
Next morning comes, and I lock Kuroneko in the house as I leave for
school. He seems unhappy, and thumps the door a few times as I leave.
I've left food and water, so he should be okay. I hope he's not too
lonely.
The early-morning battles with Akane have disappeared for some reason.
Ranma, Akane, and I happen to arrive at about the same time, and I enter
the gate only a few paces behind them. They walk together, quite
closely, although they do not touch one another or give any outward sign
of affection. I feel a surge of jealousy, which I try to quell. She is
his fianc�e; she has the right. It does no good, and I drift after
them, an envious shadow.
School goes well for me today--I feel calm and, despite Ranma's
nearness, quite focused. Ranma has more difficulty. He slumps at his
desk, every muscle and sinew conveying the message that the teacher's
narration is irrelevant and unutterably dull. Occasionally his eyes
glaze over and his head begins to droop, at which point the teacher
stops lecturing, takes an eraser from the blackboard, and fires it with
considerable accuracy at Ranma's forehead. The class snickers, Akane
frowns in irritation, but Ranma only shakes himself off and goes back to
not particularly listening. His forbearance is amazing--I don't think I
could take such treatment without losing my temper.
On the other hand, he's not learning an awful lot. We have a biology
quiz, which I finish quickly--I am already quite familiar with
maladaptive genes and Darwinian selection. Handing in the paper, I
notice that while most of the rest of the class is working steadily,
Ranma is frowning at his test without marking it. When the teacher
calls in the last stragglers, Ranma writes quickly for a moment, then
passes his paper in with a resigned expression. I am reminded of a
particularly uncoordinated girl who wanted to join the St. Hebereke team
but could not master the use of the ribbon. Time and time again she
would tie her ankles together and fall on her face, and in the split
second after she felt her ankles lock, her face would get that look--a
combination of vexation and good-humored acceptance.
She eventually knocked me over during one evening's practice. I gave
her an earful of abuse and sent her crying into the night. She never
came back.
I hated that girl at that moment--hated her fervently, passionately. I
could have screamed at her for hours. I could have beaten her
senseless. I accused her of deliberate sabotage, of being a plant by
some rival school, of trying to cripple me. I rode my hate like a
whirlwind, billowing higher and higher until she ran away. Ever after
that night, I would glare at her if we happened to meet in the halls.
An eraser strikes my forehead and rebounds away. With a hiss of
indrawn breath, I glare at the teacher, shocked and angry. For a long,
timeless moment, our eyes lock, then I remember myself and look down and
away.
No one snickers. The class is silent; Ranma and Akane watch me
strangely.
I am eating lunch alone when Nabiki approaches me. She favors me with
a lazy look, then folds herself onto the bench across from me.
"Hello, Kodachi," she says.
"Good day to you, Upperclasswoman Tendo," I respond evenly.
"So how's your brother?" She smiles slightly, a small twitch of the
lips. "He hasn't been back to school."
"No, he won't be." I refuse to share my family secrets with this
person. An idea strikes me. "He'll be studying abroad."
An eyebrow slides up her face. "Really? Where?"
"France." Why not? I look at her blandly.
She nods slightly, her face retaining the same lazy look.
"Interesting. Your brother breaks his arm, then he goes to France."
Implying, I suppose, that I am lying.
I shrug. The bitch can think what she likes. "Did you want something,
Upperclasswoman Tendo?"
She tosses something onto the table. A photo. Ranma. My breath
catches in my throat. He's taking a bath. He's turned partly away, and
the photo shows little more than his shoulder and back, but he . . .
I look away, up at Nabiki, trying to still the pounding in my chest.
She is smiling openly now, but her eyes watch me sharply.
"I don't want it."
"Oh, you're lying!" She sounds delighted, as if it were a particularly
endearing trick I had just learned. "My dear Kodachi, I've seen you
look at him. You practically wet yourself. This picture nearly gave
you a heart attack, so don't tell me you don't want it."
"Very well, I do want it. But I won't buy it." I lift my chin,
watching her.
She unfolds herself and stands. "Keep it. It's yours. I have plenty
more." She smiles again, and turns away. "Plenty better." She saunters
off, leaving me alone with Ranma's image.
Bait, no doubt. I run my finger over the photo, down Ranma's back. I
should just throw it away. I don't want to be caught into whatever game
she's playing, but, he's so ...
I move to tear the photo in half, but it puts itself in my bookbag.
I can no longer concentrate in class at all, and keep glancing over at
Ranma. Once, he happens to glance back, and I look down, burning
hotly. The memory of the photo sits in my mind, and I feel the urge to
fling myself on Ranma, here in class, in front of Akane and everyone
else. Only the knowledge that I would look an utter fool keeps me in my
seat.
The day is a long, slow torture, but it finally ends. The class stands
and files out with poorly hidden eagerness. As Ranma leaves, he glances
back at me, and I overhear him say, "Whassa matter with Kodachi?"
Akane's reply is tart and to the point. "She likes you, you idiot."
As the last student leaves, I gather my things and stand up. The
teacher looks at me curiously. "Are you all right, Miss Kuno?"
"Yes, I'm fine. I just had a slight ..." I wave my hand vaguely.
"Crush?"
I redden again, answering the question more honestly than I would
like. I leave the classroom, head down.
Walking quickly, I make my way toward the school gates. There's some
sort of disturbance outside, shouting and noise, but I am more concerned
with trying not to think of the photo, or of Ranma. Arriving at the
gates, I find my way blocked by a throng of students, all watching or
trying to watch something I cannot see.
More shouting, then Ranma's voice. I try to push through the crowd,
which complains but will not part. Briefly I consider pulling out my
ribbon and lashing it open, but settle for leaping up on the wall.
Ranma is outside the gates, and so is another boy, one with a backpack
and a folded parasol which he waves about threateningly. Suddenly he
roars and charges like a rhino. The crowd lets out a collective gasp as
the two begin to fight.
"What's happening?" I call as the two battle. I might as well be
lichen for all the attention I am paid. Spotting Akane near the front
of the crowd, I hop down from the wall and make my way over to her.
Surely she'll know what's going on.
"I don't know what's going on," she says.
"No?"
"No. All I know is Ryoga--his name's Ryoga--showed up and started
threatening Ranma. My idiot fianc� thought it was about bread. Can you
believe that? As if somebody would come all this way just because he
didn't get the last piece of bread."
"Well, what is it about?"
"I told you--I don't know."
Ranma floats around Ryoga, avoiding or blocking his blows and darting
in to strike when the boy's guard slips. Ryoga compensates by flinging
weighted bandannas which whistle dangerously through the air, keeping
Ranma away. Despite an occasional heavy, well placed blow, neither can
gain the upper hand.
"It's probably Ranma's fault anyway," grumbles Akane. I look over at
her, but she seems to be talking to herself. "Stupid perverted creep.
Moron. Jerk. Jackass."
"You don't like him?"
She flashes an irritated look at me. "What's to like?"
What isn't? "Can I have him?"
She looks at me blankly for a moment, then, sighing, turns her gaze
back to the fight. "I don't care what Ranma does," she says slowly.
"But--LOOK OUT!"
I turn my head. One of Ryoga's bandannas is speeding toward me,
buzzing like a yellowjacket. It will strike me between the eyes if I do
not move, but I--I can't. Too fast, it's all too fast, and--
And I am shoved from the side, hard. The bandanna stings my ear
sharply as it passes, leaving a lingering whistle. I tumble to the
ground with Akane on top of me. I touch my ear and stare at the blood
on my fingertips as Akane disentangles herself from me and stands up.
"I'm sorry!" blurts Ryoga, skidding to a stop next to us. "I didn't
mean to I'm sorry please forgive me!"
"Push off," I snap, climbing to my feet. I touch my still-ringing head
again and realize my sidetail is missing. "Where's the rest of me?"
Wordlessly, Akane points at the ground. A sad, mangled ribbon lies
there, surrounded by tufts of hair. I glare at Ryoga, who cringes.
"You're not mad, are you?" he says.
Mad? Am I mad? He wants to know if I'm mad? I'll tell him if I'm
mad. I step forward angrily. He steps back and collides with Ranma,
who has only now arrived at the shearing.
Oh dear. I don't want to scream like a harpy in front of Ranma. I
choke back my anger and try to calm myself.
"You okay?" asks Ranma. "You're bleedin'."
"I ... I think so." I finger my ear, with a quick glare for Ryoga.
"Could you look at it for me?"
He leans closer, and my breath quickens. The picture. Beads of water
on his back. The curve of his muscles and his spine. The voice of
Nabiki comes back to me: You practically wet yourself.
"NO!" shouts Ryoga. He shoves Ranma away and plants himself between
us. "I won't let you take advantage of this innocent young girl!"
"Excuse me, please," I say, as chill as winter wind. "This is not your
business."
"Don't trust him, Kodachi," he says hotly. "He's probably plotting to
sneak you off to the nurse's supply closet!" Pointing a finger at
Ranma, he declares loudly, "I challenge you for the right to date
Kodachi!"
A gasp goes up from the crowd. I look over at Akane, whose mouth
quirks with annoyance.
"I don't wanna date Kodachi," says Ranma.
"YOU TAKE THAT BACK!" bellows Ryoga, and the two are at it again.
He doesn't want to date Kodachi. My fingers rise to my ear again, and
I turn away. I should get home. Kuroneko is waiting. I tell my feet
to move, and they respond with little enthusiasm. He doesn't want me.
"I'm sorry," says Akane, falling into step with me. "He's always like
that. Rude. *And* he's a pervert." She pauses, uncomfortably.
"Anyway, don't worry about him."
"He doesn't want me." I whisper. I close my eyes, remembering the
picture. Hopeless longing sweeps over me, and tears prick my eyelids.
Akane grabs my arm, swinging me around to face her. "Listen," she says
with quiet intensity. "He's just a boy, okay? Boys are jerks. It's
stupid to cry because some jerk won't pay attention to you." She seems
to consider something for a moment, then continues. "Anyway, forget
about him. You don't need him. You'll just make yourself crazy."
I shake my head. "I can't. I can't just not want him." The tears
slip out and down my cheeks. "I tried that."
Akane sighs. "I guess not." She stands there for a moment, looking at
me. "Try not to take it so hard, anyway. It's not your fault he's a
jerk. You act like he's some high lord and you're a little peasant
girl." My back stiffens at that. "Yes, you do. Have a little pride in
yourself. He's not better than you."
He's not better than me. I am a Kuno, rich, beautiful, refined. My
illness, for all its destructiveness, is well under control, is it not?
Ranma is handsome, yes, but Akane is right--he *is* unmannered and
crude. Is my illness such a stain that I am somehow not worthy of him?
"You're right," I say. Elation fills me and I laugh, wiping at my
eyes. "You're so right. Ranma isn't better than me." Remembering my
manners, I bow formally to Akane. "Thank you. Thank you for your
kindness and your wisdom. And your generosity."
Akane gapes at me as I straighten. "Okay," she ventures uncertainly,
but I am too excited to stay, and turn and race for home.
He doesn't want to go out with me. How silly I've been. He doesn't
want to go out with me because I've been a boring little mouse. How
dull. Crying, moping, cringing with shame--but no more. I'll have a
little pride, and be exciting and strong. I can win him. I will win
him.
Oh Akane, you have been both helpful and kind to me, and I am about to
repay you by trying to steal your fianc�. I hope you meant what you
said about not wanting him, for I will not retreat if you change your
mind.
Home. I pelt up the walk, fumbling with the keys in my excitement.
The door clicks open, and I stumble in. In the kitchen, the food and
water that I left out for Kuroneko sit untouched. I call him, but he
does not come.
Is he still here? I search through the house, calling, but can find no
sign of him. He must have crept out, somehow, and run away. Defeated,
I pour out his food, throw away the water, and begin to wash the dishes.
Disappointment tugs at my new-found sense of purpose, reminding me
sharply of the possibility of failure. I try to stay focussed, but I do
miss the little creature, and begin to feel lonely and betrayed.
A splash comes from outside, behind the house. Opening the back door,
I see Kuroneko crawling out of Midorigame's old pool. "There you are,"
I call sharply, and Kuroneko shrinks away. Do I sound angry?
I walk over and pick him up. I am angry, though I know I shouldn't
be. He is only an animal, after all. He didn't betray and abandon me,
he just wandered about, as animals do. "I missed you," I say, hugging
him. "Please don't run away."
A noise comes from the roof behind me, and I turn, with a gasp of
fright. It's Ranma, looking away, along the line of roofs. He turns
his head, as if searching, then glances down. I smile brightly and
wave. No more Miss Mousie.
"You seen Ryoga?" he asks.
"Ryoga?" Kuroneko makes a little whimper, and I rock him a little to
quiet him.
"Y'know, the kid I was fightin' with?"
"Oh, that's right." The boy with the parasol. Akane did mention his
name, now that I think of it. "No, I haven't. Why?"
Ranma pulls a face. "We were fightin' and he just kinda disappeared."
He looks about, scowling, and scratches his head. "Could'a sworn he was
here."
"Well, maybe he ran away. That means you win, right?"
Kuroneko shakes his head violently, catching Ranma's attention.
"What's with the pig?" he asks.
"Oh, he's trained to do that," I say. "Let me put him up." Kuroneko
struggles as I take him over to the house, and tries to push his way out
before I can close the door. "Stop," I scold. "You're being bad."
Eventually, I get the door closed, and he appears at a window, snout
pressed against the glass.
I walk back to Ranma, thinking. Ryoga challenged Ranma for the right
to date me. If Ranma won ... "How about Friday?"
"Huh?"
"Our date." He looks puzzled. "You fought Ryoga for the right to date
me. You won. Is Friday okay?"
"Well, I, uh ..." I suppress the urge to giggle as he struggles with
the question. I tip my head to the side, as if a thought has just
struck me.
"You *did* win, right?"
Ranma bristles. "Yeah, I won!"
I turn away, feigning scepticism. "Oh, I don't think you did. I think
maybe you ran away, and you're afraid to take Ryoga's ..."
"I did too!" He catches my arm and pulls me around to face him. My
heart races, and I struggle to maintain my air of indifference. "I'll
prove it."
"You'll take me out on Friday?"
"Uh, yeah." He releases my arm, suddenly self-conscious. "But only to
prove I won, 'kay?"
"Okay!" I lift up on tiptoe and kiss him, which makes him stumble
back. "Meet me out front at seven." I smile and head back to the
house. "Oh, and wear something nice," I call over my shoulder, before
opening the door. He stands there, looking puzzled, as if not quite
sure what has happened to him.
I close the door behind me and slump against it, laughing. Kuroneko
looks at me lugubriously. "I've got a date with Ranma!" I sing, picking
him up and whirling him about. "I've got a date with Ranma!" He makes a
sad little noise. "Oh, don't pout," I say, kissing him. "I still love
you." I him down and he drags himself away. What a jealous animal.
Oh, my, there's so much to do. I need a new dress, and new shoes, and
I should probably pick out a restaurant; Ranma won't have a clue. My
hair! I must have my hair trimmed and styled. Friday can't come soon
enough.
-- David