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Hey,

Ranma and company are the property of Rumiko Takahashi.
Characters used without permission.

C&C, as always, is eagerly sought.  Private's good, public's better, let me know what you think.  No matter how harsh.  Enjoy.  (And sorry if there's formatting problems, trying to iron those out.)

-Mike Noakes
noakes_m@hotmail.com

***

Choices:
Complications


The morning sunlight was bright and the air unusually warm,
the weather in sharp contrast to the stark dream images that
fluttered moth-like just beyond the edge of recollection.  He felt
tired in a way rarely felt before, with a weariness that lay not so
much within the body as within the mind.  He remembered
clearly the exhilaration that a decision made had brought only
one week ago: but now, having again come to the same
conclusion--though this time for very different reasons--he felt
only a numbing exhaustion.
      Ranma Saotome sat up in his futon with a barely
stifled groan.  The anger that had buoyed him last week and
carried him through most of a weeklong training session was
entirely lacking, and in its absence lay a painful hollowness.
The idea of leaving now left him feeling drained and empty;
and a seed of unwanted emotions weighed heavily in the pit of
his stomach.
      When did I come to this decision? Ranma wondered.
He last remembered lying in the dark and staring at his pack
next to him, the brisk night air descending quickly as the heat
bled from the room.  His pack was ready; it seemed to him as if
it had always been ready; reaching back to his earliest
memories, he could always recollect a heavy backpack bulging
with his few belongings waiting next to whatever bed he lay
upon that night.  For a while I forgot, he thought, or at least
fooled myself into forgetting.  For a year I settled here, and this
stupid pack sat in the closet, but I never took it apart, and I
guess somehow I knew this day would finally have to come,
and now it has, only it hurts a lot more than I ever expected.  I
guess I never expected to go it alone, without Pop.
      He felt unconcerned about leaving his idiot father
behind; somewhere inside, Ranma felt a solid certainty that,
wherever he might go, his father would eventually, inevitably,
catch up and find him.  Rather, the numb pain came from
knowing what he was willingly giving up.  The only home he
had known in a decade; kind Kasumi and her father, even
Nabiki; his mother as well, no matter how stressful those times
proved to be.  And--
      With sudden resolve he took to his feet and dressed
quickly.  After a final check and hasty repacking, he dropped
his backpack out the window.  Turning his back on the easy
escape, he left the room by the door.  He wondered if this
morning would be the last time he would ever see the Tendos.
A nagging suspicion grew that today was going to be a very
bad day indeed.
      Whatever, he told himself.  I've made my decision,
and now it's time to carry it through.


      The scene of absolute normalcy that presented itself
when he joined the Tendos struck Ranma as both absurd and
nearly insulting.  Kasumi, impossibly fresh-faced in the
morning as usual, was serving breakfast to her newspaper-
reading father and the panda sitting at the table.  Mr. Tendo
acknowledged the arrival of breakfast with a slight nod,
absorbed by his reading; Genma tossed the paper aside and
attacked the food with chopsticks somehow held in his giant
furry paw.  The TV was playing softly in the background,
providing morning news in a low-voiced monotone, and
outside, past the sliding doors kept shut against the February
winds, the faint chirp of birds could be heard.  The heater,
wreathed in a faint aura of oil-scented heat, glowed red from its
place on the tatami next to the low-set heated kotatsu table.
Ranma, standing at the entrance to the room, watched and made
of the sight a memory.  This is what I'm turning away from, he
told himself, feeling a curious ambivalence: surprisingly
intense pang underscoring muted elation; and it seemed to him
strange to be confronted with such casual cheerfulness on the
morning of the day that he chose to change his life in such a
fundamental way.
      "Good-morning, son," said Mr. Tendo, as Ranma
came forward with forced nonchalance.  "Feeling better?"
      Ranma stared at him for a moment before nodding in
reply.  Soun had not even glanced away from his paper.
Genma continued to devour his food with a decidedly bear-like
appetite.  Kasumi stepped back into the kitchen for more food.
Ranma suddenly noticed that both Akane and Nabiki were
conspicuously absent.  She wouldn't avoid me, would she? he
wondered, feeling a little hurt.  She knows I was thinking of
leaving today.
      Unless, he added, she decided last night that she
really doesn't care after all.  Which is all too possible, Ranma
thought darkly.  Either that or she thinks that I'm too much of a
coward to carry such a big decision through.  Well then, won't
_she_ be surprised when she finds out I'm already gone!
      Feeling childish, he sighed and sat at the table and
stared blankly at the back of the newspaper Mr. Tendo
presented to him.  Weather forecast for the week; story of a
forgotten dog that followed its master's move from Aomori to
Tottori prefecture; bra advertisement promising superior
cleavage; talent scout blurb, Yes, you too could be a model or
music star!  It slowly dawned on him that his decision came
with massive consequences as yet un-contemplated.  Where
would he go, what would he do?  He needed a place to live,
probably a job, and did he really want to give up the little he
had achieved at school?
      It was while considering this, mechanically eating the
food Kasumi placed before him--unthinkingly, but still very
much aware of how delicious her cooking was--that Nabiki
came rushing downstairs.  She was already dressed for school,
schoolbag at her side, and as she quickly passed by it seemed to
Ranma that she avoided looking at him.  What's up with her?
he wondered, even as Kasumi called out after her younger
sibling.  The middle sister, already out of sight, replied with a
yelled "I have to get to school early today," and a moment later
he heard the door slam shut behind her.  Kasumi, unperturbed,
dumped the extra food on Genma's plate.  Ranma shrugged and
turned back to his breakfast.
      To his surprise, his panda father stopped inhaling
food long enough to dump a cupful of hot water over his own
head, shifting back to human form.  Pulling a convenient dogi
over his bulky form, he leveled a glare at his son.
      "I allowed you the luxury of missing morning
practice this morning," Genma growled, "out of respect for the
torturous ordeals you underwent last night.  But I will not idly
sit by and allow the heir to the Anything-Goes school of martial
arts--"
      Ranma broke into a cold sweat, thinking, He knows!
He already knows, and I knew this was coming eventually, but
not this soon, I'm not ready yet!  Did Akane tell him I was
thinking of leaving?
      "--to go soft on me!" finished Genma, to his son's
immense relief.  "I effortlessly steal a third of your meal, and
you don't notice?"  He presented his chopsticks with a flourish,
displaying a piece of fish captured from his son's plate.
      The younger Saotome forced a scowl to conceal his
pleasure, and glanced down at his plate.  He noted with surprise
that his food was, in fact, missing.  Man, I must've been out of
it, he thought.  Pop's right to call me all that.
      "And then," Genma continued, "to allow Kasumi to
give me extra food without a struggle?  What's wrong with
you, boy?"
       "I haven't spoken to you for a week, and that's the
first thing out of your fat mouth?"  Ranma's tone dripped
insolence.  "How about, 'How was the training trip, Ranma?' or
'Good to see you, son!'  Is that too much to ask?"
      "Not at all," said Genma, suddenly all smiles.  "How
was the trip?"
      "Fine," Ranma answered guardedly.
      "Good to see you, son!"
      "You're weirding me out, Pop."
      "But why?  I'm just trying to be friendly, you know,
to bond a little and maybe be there for my son--"
      "Um, thanks."
      "--who's acting like some kind of freakin' girl!"
Genma yelled, and lunged forward, a vase-full of cold water
hitting Ranma square in the face.  He blinked through the dirty
water coursing across features suddenly turned softer and
feminine.
      "What a disgrace!" wailed Genma, red in the face,
leaping to his feet.  "What did you study for the last week, the
Saotome Anything-Goes Special Technique of Being Slow?
The Deadly Art of Being Utterly Useless?"  He stalked back
and forth, gesticulating wildly, as an unperturbed Soun
continued to read his paper and Kasumi rescued her flowers
from death by trampling.  "Ten years of training for nothing!
Must I restart my disappointment of a son from the beginning?
Oh, the shame!"
      This, Ranma thought, as his father proceeded to
decry the flaws of youth in general and of his son in particular,
is exactly how I want to remember Pop when I'm gone.  He
smiled broadly and stood up.  "Yo, Pop," he said, cutting
Genma off in mid-rant.  "How 'bout I show you a little of what
I've been studyin'?"


      Leaving his grinning father lying half-unconscious in
the pond with swirling eyes and lumps on his head, Ranma
headed to the bathroom for some hot water.  Beating the crap
out of Pop had done wonders to dispel the melancholy of the
morning, and with renewed vigor he faced the prospect of
leaving the house.  Only as he went to slide the door open did it
occur to him that, by leaving, he would be giving up the very
thing that had just cheered him up; and his mood plummeted
once again.  Man, he thought, leaving is a hell of a lot harder
than I expected.  But his determination didn't waver, and he felt
secure in the knowledge that he was doing the right thing.  He
was doing what he had to do.  What others had forced him to
do.  Ranma opened the door.
      Akane was there in her yellow fish-cake pajamas.
She was brushing her teeth.
      They stared at each other for a moment, and for some
reason Ranma felt intensely surprised to see her.  He recovered
and bowed apologetically and wordlessly backed away, and as
he went to leave she recovered as well, spitting out a mouthful
of water, the corner of her mouth still flecked with toothpaste
foam, and reached for the door and kept him from closing it
behind him.  "Ranma, wait!" she said.
      A brief pause was all Akane needed to grab him by
the arm.  He allowed her to pull him into the bathroom, and
watched bemused as she checked to see if anyone was around.
She closed the door.
       Akane looked tired, her eyes looked tired, more so
than he could ever remember seeing her, almost as if she hadn't
slept all night.  She wasn't worried about me, was she? Ranma
thought, feeling a sudden pang of both guilt and guilty
pleasure.  But of course she's not, he added, why would she be?
She's known for awhile now that I'd be leaving, she wants me
to leave, she's better off with me leaving . . . she doesn't really
care either way.  Akane's made that abundantly clear.
      He noticed that she was examining him with equal
intensity, searchingly, and suddenly he felt strangely
embarrassed by being female in front of her.  A stupid feeling,
surely, but he nevertheless felt acutely aware of his femininity
in a way he had rarely felt before: the way his shirt tented and
draped off his breasts, how his pants hung high and stretched
across his wider hips; and catching a glimpse of himself in the
mirror he had a sudden disjointed recollection, similar
dreamlike snapshot image of disheveled hair wet and framed
face feminine flashing to mind--but it slid away, ephemeral,
and with it the shame he felt before Akane.  A subdued anger
filled its void: where does she get off making me feel like this?
      "Yo, Akane," he said, rather more brusquely than
intended.  "Something you wanna say?"
      Whereas she had stopped Ranma without hesitation,
that confidence now seemed to escape her and left her at a loss
for words.  He stared at her impatiently, and finally Akane
blurted out, "You're a girl," almost as if unable to think of
anything else.
      He shrugged.  "Yeah.  Shit happens.  Jusenkyo, bad
luck, a little water: instant sex-changing freak.  You know how
it goes."
      Akane frowned.  "That's not what I meant."
      He bit back a retort, feeling bad for snapping at her.
Ranma turned away and reached for the sink.  "I just came for
some hot water.  I'll be out of your way in a second."
      A soft touch on his shoulder--surprisingly timorous,
almost frightened--checked him.  "Ranma, I. . . I don't care,"
she said.
      "I know," he said, a whisper, a savage hurt seizing
him, twisting his insides, and his hand trembled on the faucet
tap.  "That's why I'm leaving."  Ranma hated himself for it, but
as the words escaped he looked back, had to see the expression
on her face and confirm the truth of her feelings for him; he did
this despite knowing that his own features must betray him,
mirroring the pain he felt inside.  What he saw, so clearly
written on her face, crystallized the decision within his mind
and hardened his heart to the pain: mingled disgust and fear
offset only by stark pity, and he wanted none of either three
from her.  He turned away quickly, face burning.  Ranma
composed himself and straightened, momentarily forgetting
about changing back.
      "That's not what I meant," Akane said softly.
      "Yes, it is," he answered, more bitter than expected.
      She shook her head vehemently.  "Ranma, no, you . .
. don't understand."
      He laughed.  "Oh, but I do, Akane--finally!  And
you're right, so absolutely right.  You and your friends and
everyone.  Well--goodbye."  He went to step past her but she
refused to move, and he was reminded of the same scene one
week ago, with he ready to leave and she constantly blocking
him.  Well, I'm not going to play her game this time, he
thought.  With sudden speed and a bit of deft footwork, he
slipped past her and through the door.
      "Where are you going?" she asked.  When he ignored
her and stepped away, she asked again, louder.  "I'll keep
asking," she promised, "louder and louder, until I'm screaming
down the street after you.  I don't know what you're planning
to do, and somehow I don't think you are, either, but I'm
guessing you're not quite ready to face up to our fathers just
yet."
      "What do you care?" he retorted without looking
back, his voice low enough to not be heard by the adults down
the hall.  "We're through, remember?  You don't want to have
anything to do with me.  So what does it matter where I go?"
      He could feel her stare on his back.  "It matters."
      Ranma sighed and turned back.  "Fine.  You know
what I'm planning to do?  I'm planning on moving away.  Out
of Nerima."  Even as he spoke he realized he was making a
choice, and that in the process of answering Akane's question
he was deciding his own future.  "I'll camp out until I find a job
or something I can make some money off of."  He shrugged,
glanced down, and stuck his chest out.  "If this body's been
good for anything, it's getting work and free food.
      "With some money, I'll find somewhere to live, and
finish school, I guess."  He was surprised by his own words, but
then suddenly realized that his education was important to him.
He had worked his ass off to get into a public school as decent
as Furinkan, and even if his current grades were crap, he wasn't
about to waste all that effort.  Everybody thought he was a jock
moron; well, he'd prove them wrong.  "If Ukyo can do it, then
so can I."
      If Akane looked at all surprised or dubious of his
plan, she showed none of it.  "And then?" she asked.
Something in her tone reminded him of a mother chiding an
immature boy, and it infuriated him.
      "And then what?  How should I know?  I'm only
seventeen, Akane!  Do you have any idea what you're going to
do after high school?  Any of your friends know?"  He stalked
up to her and confronted her in a restrained, angry whisper.  "I
don't give a shit about later!  All I want is to leave--to leave
this shit hole, and all you people screwing with my life . . . I
want to go away, and start all over, and forget about all of you
and the last year and a half and find a new home and new
friends and never have to see either you or your friends or your
family ever again . . . but that's a lie, Akane, because I _don't_
want to leave, because I'm happy here and I like your family
and even your bitchy friends and our stupid school and all these
jerks who keep bugging the shit out of me; and leaving here is
the hardest, most painful thing I've ever done . . . and the only
thing keeping me stuck between the two is you, Akane,
_you're_ the one tearing me apart, because I've already decided
to leave, it's the right thing to do and it's what I have to do; but
you won't let me leave!  Can't you see what you're doing to
me?  Do you enjoy hurting me?  Let me go!"
      With eyes brimming with tears and so full of pity it
hurt to see, she answered, "Oh no, Ranma, no, I don't, and I
hope you'll never understand how much I hope you're okay."
      He believed her.  The words were delivered with
such heartfelt intention, from such a depth of honesty that it
was impossible to doubt her sincerity.  Again, however, that
overwhelming pity in her eyes, and he refused to accept that
from his former fiancee.  I don't need your pity! he wanted to
scream, can't you see I'm only leaving because of you?  But
how to convey the full range of his feelings, when he himself
didn't fully understand to what depths they reached?  Those
emotions surged and roiled within just below the surface, and
for a moment he trembled with the potential of expression,
unsure of what he might say or do if his honest feelings were
given free rein; and he swiftly turned away as he sought to
master himself.  Now was not the time, he refused to expose
himself so blatantly to her, not when under that emasculating
sympathetic gaze.
      "Ranma," she said softly, coming up behind him.
"Can we talk?"
      Still struggling for control, he shook his head in the
negative.
      "Ranma," she tried again, sounding hurt, "last night,
you said we would."
      On your terms, he thought, is that it?  I don't think
so.  "We're talking now, aren't we?" he said, still looking
away.  He remembered her words from last night: _After
supper, we'll talk.  I need time to think.  I've been doing a lot
all week, and now . . . I think I'm ready to make some
choices._   But she just doesn't get it, he thought.  This
isn't about her anymore, and it's not her choice to make.
      "No!" she said.  "Not like this.  Not . . . angry.  A real
talk.  I don't think we've ever had one, not in all the time
you've been here.  I'd really like to try, Ranma."
      He was tempted, there was so much he wanted to say,
or thought he wanted to say, even though unsure of what that
might be.  But he could not allow himself to be swayed from
his decision, especially not like this; leaving was proving
difficult enough as it was.  I have to leave, now, or she'll draw
another promise out of me, and this will keep going on and on,
and I don't think I could take that.  I won't do that to myself, I
won't do that to her.  It's time to burn my bridges.
      He hardened himself, and stubbornly answered,
"Well, that's funny, Akane, really ironic like, because last
night, _I_ was ready to talk, but you weren't . . . and this
morning, you know, I really don't feel like it anymore."  He
turned on her, forcing himself back to anger, the pity
glimmering in her eyes an easy focus.  "We had our chance for
a heart-to-heart and you blew it.  I'm leaving.  I'm leaving.  I
don't need this house, this family, and I certainly don't need
you, Akane, so you can wipe that pity off your face, because I
sure don't want it; and you can forget about your stupid little
talk.
      "We're through, and when our parents come looking
to place the blame, you can dump it all on me, yeah, just like
you always do: but you'll know it's all your fault.  This started
because I took you seriously for once--treated you like the
martial artist you so want to be but will never become--and you
couldn't take it."  He hated himself, hated every spiteful word
he hurled at her and the pain it so clearly caused her.  He
despised the lie, when he knew that in his drunkenness it had
been he who had gone too far, and the residual guilt rankled
worse than ever.  His self-loathing at that moment was so deep
that he grew furious himself, with the same intensity he felt
whenever anyone would dare threaten his Akane; and he
channeled that inward anger outwards into his words, towards
his fiancee.  "We had one chance to talk about it, and you threw
me out of your room, you poisoned me, you made a mess of it
as usual.  You screwed up, and really, I don't think there's
much more to say, 'cus I sure as hell don't want to live with a
violent, uncute tomboy like you!"
      Akane stood as if stunned, tears freely flowing,
looking so hurt--no, even worse, betrayed--that Ranma was
immediately overwhelmed with guilt.  He wanted to rush
forward and apologize, he wanted to take it all back and try
again.  He had to leave, but not like this; it had to end, but not
like this . . . it couldn't end like this!
      The shock faded and she flushed red with anger, and
she shook with such a fury of emotion that he flinched back
against the blow surely to come.  When he opened his eyes, she
stood trembling with hands clenched at her side, and she
pierced him with such a look of disgust and hate that he quailed
inside, his chest becoming unbelievably tight, and he knew
with absolute certainty that he had lost her forever.
      "Get out of my house," she hissed.
      He reeled back as if physically struck, though her
words were no less than he both expected and wanted.  His
every insult and curse and mingled truth and lie had been to
bring her to this very point, where she would finally release
him.  So why did it hurt so much?  At that moment, an
unbidden memory surfaced:
      Raven-haired pale-faced black-skirted friendly girl--
what was her name?--holding him close.  No, _her_ close,
female flesh bound tightly in bikini red, shirt hanging open.
Tears and guilt: release.
      _You-you really love him, don't you?_
      Tight stabbing pain, burgeoning nascent agony of
awareness come too late.
      _Yes._
      "Yes," Ranma whispered, the blood draining from his
face.  Remembrance had come too late.  With the same
absolute certainty with which he knew that he had lost his
fiancee, he suddenly also realized that he loved her, truly and
profoundly.  At the very same moment that Ranma Saotome
finally consciously accepted that he loved Akane Tendo, he
also had to accept that he had just given her up.  The constant
emotional buffeting of the last few minutes proved too much;
everything--anger, fear, love, shame, guilt--flayed him raw
from within, and he locked up, physically and mentally.
      "Yes, that's it, _yes_?"  Akane stormed forward.
"Then go!" she spat, and shoved him, hard, and again.  He
stumbled back, defenseless.  "Go!  Get out!"
      "No, wait!" he stuttered, trying desperately to catch
his footing, "Akane, no, Akane I lo. . . ."  The words died on
his lips.  Under that withering hateful gaze, what could he say?
His shoulders slumped�@in defeat.  He turned away.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
      And then, louder, "Goodbye, Akane."
      Those first steps were among the most difficult he
could ever remember taking, heavier even then when he fled
from her back in Ryugenzawa.  There had been another man
that time, a rival, something to drive him with righteous anger
and send him sprinting across the forest.  This time he had
driven her away himself, and there was no one else to blame.
When Happosai had stolen his strength, he had also been
prepared to give her up.  Somewhere deep inside, however, he
had hoped--known--that she wouldn't abandon him, and she
had proven him right.  Though the shame of his weakness had
been almost too much to bear, her presence had been a very
real comfort to him, and now he understood why: even then he
had loved her, but only now did he know to what extent.
      Ranma walked away.  He felt light-headed.
Thoughts were consumed in a subliminal buzz.  He felt
somehow disjointed, as if watching from outside his body's
slow escape.  The immediate was lost in a haze, the periphery
coming to bear; and from far off he could hear, stunningly
clear, the trill of a morning bird.  A telephone ring.  Humming
of a cheerful song.  The loud clack of a shoji stone against
wooden board.  A stifled, choking sob.
      Hurried footsteps as Kasumi, somehow oblivious to
what had transpired only a few meters away, came to him.
"Phone call for you," she said, and smiled.  "It's Doctor Tofu!"


      Ranma picked up the phone.
      "Ranma?"
      "Err, hi Doc.  Listen, now's not-."
      "I'll be brief.  I need you to come to the clinic with
Akane this morning."
      "What's wrong?"
      "Maybe nothing.  Nabiki set up an appointment this
morning.  She's very worried."
      "Is it serious?"
      "Maybe.  Maybe it's nothing.  The earlier you come
the better."
      "Akane won't want to come with me.  We just had a
big fight"
      "It's very important for you to come with her,
Ranma."
      "I'll try."
      "Good.  See you soon."
      Doctor Tofu hung up.


      When Ranma returned from the phone call, his head
a confused jumble of thoughts and impulses, Akane was gone.
He heard heavy steps from upstairs, and assumed she had gone
to her room to change for school.  Now what do I do? he
thought, and wandered in a daze back to the living room.  He
slumped to the ground, ignored by his father (now recovered)
and Soun (enjoying a cigarette) as they continued an intense
game of shogi.  What do I do, he thought again, and
immediately after: I love her!  "I love her," he whispered,
feeling the roll of the words off his tongue, how easy it seemed
to say now.  "I love you, Akane."  His heart soared with the
newfound knowledge of its desire, and for a moment,
consumed by the elation that it brought, all the difficulties of
the day thus far disappeared like the morning's frost.
      _I sure as hell don't want to live with a violent,
uncute tomboy like you!_
      What have I done? he thought, crashing back to
earth.  Oh man, what have I done?  He could clearly remember
now that moment at the party, admitting in his drunkenness his
feelings for Akane to a complete stranger.  The pain of that
moment had been so intense!  How much worse it was now,
without the buffer of alcohol, without the emotional release his
female form might offer under different company!  The worst,
however, was realizing that despite the full knowledge of his
feelings, it changed nothing.  His decision was still made, and
now more than ever he knew he had to leave.  No matter how
painful, for the good of Akane he had to leave.  Surely it was
the least he could do if he truly loved her, and he hoped that
fact would make his departure easier.
      Nope, Ranma told himself, it doesn't.
      Before he could go, he had one last responsibility: to
take Akane to Tofu's clinic, and concern momentarily
displaced his sense of loss.  Talking to Doctor Tofu had been
intensely strange, in part because of the state of near shock he
had been in as he picked up the phone.  The doctor himself had
seemed odd, his voice devoid of its usual cheerfulness, his
request delivered in a tightly restrained, brusque and clinical
tone.  It must be pretty damn serious, Ranma thought, if he was
able to get a coherent message across to Kasumi.  Shit.  I hope
Akane's all right.
      Nursing this thought and drawing courage from it, he
went upstairs to Akane's room.  Her room seemed strangely
quiet.  Oh, man, I hope she's not crying, he thought.  Maybe it
was a good thing that he was a girl right now.  His female body
seemed more comforting, somehow, or better suited to such
emotions.  Not that he would cry.  He was a man, and he had to
be strong.  Especially if there was something wrong with
Akane.  Ranma tried a hesitant knock on the door.
      "Come in."
      She looked surprisingly composed as he entered, and
the look she directed his way was one of cool indifference.  She
was dressed for school, closing the final tie on her schoolbag.
"You're still here?"  Her voice, normally so passionate--
whether with anger or caring--was painfully flat, and sounded,
if anything, mildly annoyed with the necessity of talking to
him.  Anything would have been better than that neutral
hollowness, so alien to her--anger, tears, even hatred directed
his way would have been better.  But she's already erased me
from her life, he thought, just when she's become the most
important thing in mine.
      Ranma nodded in reply and tried to appear casual.
No point in letting her know how he felt.  It certainly wouldn't
help anything at this point.  "Yeah," he said.  "But I'll be gone
in a few minutes."
      "Good," she said, and looked away.  Her face was
hidden from him.  "What did Doctor Tofu want?" she asked.
Ranma heard a slight tremor in her voice.
      "He wants us to swing by the clinic," he said, "for a
check-up.  Sounds pretty normal, I'm sure it's nothing serious."
      "Fine," she said.  "You can walk me to school and
we'll stop on the way.  It's probably better that way, so our
fathers won't suspect anything."
      "Good thinking."
      "Then let's go," she said.  She turned around, and
briefly her face belied a deep anxiety, if not outright fear; and
then her previous impassiveness slid back into place.  What
happened, Ranma wondered, deep concern forming a
tightening knot centered on his stomach, what happened while I
was away?  I never should have left!
      Akane reached down for her school bag.  "The
sooner we get this over with," she added, taking a step towards
him, "the faster we can get you out of here."  As she spoke
those words, so painful for Ranma to hear, she suddenly
appeared frozen in time; a statue in his mind; and never before
had she seemed so beautiful to him.  She stood half crouched,
one hand grasping the handle of her bag as she picked it up, the
other holding the hem of her skirt clear from the floor.  Her
skirt pooled around her feet, blue pleated concealment of legs
that were, he knew, slim and beautiful and taut with muscle and
vitality.  The image burned itself into memory.  Hazel eyes
half-lidded and far from passionless; the slender length of pale
arm exposed by the white school blouse she wore--how strong
she was!  Akane, a tomboy?  Sure! he thought, and I'd rather
have my Tomboy than any of those other small weak girls at
school.
      But she's not yours anymore, is she? he added a
moment later, and looked away.


      The walk to school that morning was among the most
uncomfortable he could remember.  It certainly wasn't the first
walk to school with angry tension between them, the result of
some previous fight as yet unresolved.  Ranma suspected,
however, that it would be the last.  Once Tofu reassured him
that Akane was fine--she had better be fine!--he would have no
choice but to leave.  His backpack, collected as he left the
house, was slung over one shoulder. There was no reason to
return to the Tendos' household, other than the single, all-
important one following him; and she wanted nothing more to
do with him.  Her cold refusal to speak as they walked was a
silent testament to that.  He had tried walking next to Akane,
but her clear hostility had driven him back to the top of the
fence; and now, standing above and in front of her, he could
feel her gaze burning into his back.
      Only a little longer Akane, he vowed, and I'll let you
move on with your life.
      Again, that feeling of absurdity as he walked, the
weather so unusually pleasant for this time of year, warm
enough for Akane remove her winter uniform jacket.  The sun
shining brightly above complimented the idle, pleasant chatter
of other students on their way to school.  He hated them.  No,
not hate, he amended, but their absolute ignorance infuriated
him: how could they not understand what was happening?  The
sacrifice he was making, the decision he was being forced into-
-they didn't know, and worse, they didn't care!  He wanted to
scream at them, to the world at large, "I love her!" but he was
afraid, certain that the returning echo would proclaim, "She
hates you!"
      The trip to Tofu's was thankfully short, and within
moments they stood in the lobby of the doctor's clinic.  It had
been a long time since their last visit.  The doctor had been
absent recently.  According to Kasumi he had been studying
advanced techniques with a teacher in China, and Ranma
couldn't recall stopping by since the pressure-point incident
with Happosai nearly half-a-year ago.
      There were no other patients.  Ranma waited
nervously, hovering protectively near the girl he loved.  He
watched her furtively.  She stood unmoving, hands held clasped
together in front, ignoring him.  Despite her effort to conceal it,
she clearly became increasingly nervous as they waited, and his
concern for her grew proportionately.
      Finally, Doctor Tofu Ono greeted them.
      "Ah, my two favorite patients," he said, and smiled.
To Ranma, it seemed slightly strained.  "Long time no see."
      "Um, yeah, Doc," Ranma said.  "Long time no see."
Akane bowed and said nothing.
      A brief but intensely uncomfortable silence resulted,
before Tofu seemed to snap out of deep thought.  "Well," he
said, "you guys have to hurry along for school, so let's get this
over with as quickly as possible, shall we?  Akane, if you
please?"  He took the girl by the hand and led her to a side-
room, quickly returning.  "And if you'll follow me, Ranma?"
      Moments later the boy was sitting anxiously in
Doctor Tofu's examination room while the doctor attended to
Akane.  Charged with bored nervousness, he started to pace the
room.  Why were they here; what happened to Akane; why
hadn't anybody told him?  What am I going to do if she's sick;
what if I'm somehow responsible?  Is this all my fault, again?
He stopped his idle march and glanced up at the skeleton
hanging in the corner.  "Yo, Betty," he muttered.  "What's up?"
Betty grinned at him.  "Yeah, yuck it up, but it ain't funny," he
insisted.  He slumped down into a chair and continued to stare
up morosely at Tofu's life-sized toy.  The silence and waiting
became oppressive, and he suddenly blurted out: "I love her--I
really do!  But she hates me; and I don't know what I'll do if
she's sick!  Hanging around ain't doing her no good, but I can't
leave unless I know she's okay."  Ranma sighed, and his gaze
dropped, until all he could see were Betty's bony white toes at
the edge of his vision, and he muttered, "You're lucky.  You're
just a stupid plastic toy, you ain't got to worry about this shit.
Man, this sucks!  I thought that when I finally figured all this
crap out, things would finally get easier.  It's just worst than
ever!"
      "You shouldn't say stuff like that," said a sudden
voice from behind him, sending Ranma flying across the room
in fright, "You'll hurt Betty's feelings."  Tofu, silently closing
the door behind him, smiled kindly at the younger martial
artist.
      Ranma climbed sheepishly down from his place on
the wall next to Betty.  "Where'd you learn to move so quiet,
Doc?" he asked.
      "I'm the son of an unholy union between a demon of
the dark realms beyond, and the matriarch of an ancient evil
ninja clan; and I draw power from the ineffable forces that lie
gibbering beyond the stars."
      "Wow, really?"
      Doctor Ono Tofu chuckled.  "No.  Actually, I have a
very sharp-eared mother who loves to meddle.  My room used
to be down the hall from her.  My childhood would've been
spent on exactingly menial chores and pointless pre-arranged
dates, if I hadn't learned how to creep by her room without
being heard at a very young age."  The doctor took a seat and
gestured for his patient to sit down opposite him.  He cast a
quick but searching eye over the boy-turned-girl, pushed his
glasses back along the bridge of his nose, and his demeanor
turned professional.  "Well, then, let's get down to business
then, shall we?"
      Ranma shrugged.  "Sure.  What's up?"
      "I see that you're female this morning."
      "Yeah," Ranma grumbled.  "Pop's fault.  And Akane
and I had a big fight before I could change back.  Guess I kinda
forgot."
      "Not a problem.  Convenient, actually, since I want
to examine your female side as well."
      "Me?"
      "Akane tells me that you're leaving Nerima.  I can't
let my favorite patient go without a clean bill of health, can I?"
      "I . . . guess not," Ranma answered.
      "Exactly."  Tofu proceeded with a routine check-up,
and Ranma sat through the initial steps, only slightly
embarrassed at having his female body examined.  But his
patience quickly wore thin as his concern for Akane steadily
grew.  The doctor was cradling one slender wrist in his hand,
silently counting out Ranma's pulse, when the boy-turned-girl
snatched his arm away and blurted, "Doc, what about Akane?"
      Tofu blinked, concentration broken, and said,
"Excuse me?"
      "Akane!  What's wrong with her, you've got to tell
me!"
      "Ranma," Doctor Tofu said, "if there's anything
wrong with her, and she hasn't told you, then I'm sure you'll
understand that I can't break my patient confidentiality with
her."
      "But-."
      "Ranma, no.  Would you like it if I told Akane how
you feel about her?"
      "No," he muttered sullenly, blushing a furious red
and looking away.  He didn't resist as the doctor took up
counting his pulse once again.  How can I help her, he thought
darkly, if Doc won't tell me what's wrong?  _She_ sure won't
tell me.  She wants me gone.  With sudden spite Ranma started
to mess around with his pulse, speeding it up and slowing it
down through simple meditation exercises he picked up while
in China.  After thirty seconds of this Tofu looked up.  He
locked eyes with his patient, and a steely glint Ranma had
rarely seen there took him aback.
      "Getting passive-aggressive on me isn't going to
help."
      Ranma wasn't too sure what that meant, but stopped.
      Tofu sighed.  "Listen, I'll say this.  I suggest you stay
near Akane, at least for a little longer.  Believe me," and here
his voice suddenly sounded very tired, "if there's anything
wrong, you'll know by the end of the day.
      "Now.  Shall we proceed?"


      "I really hate this body sometimes," Ranma muttered,
as he squatted and shivered and tried to urinate in the cup held
gingerly beneath his female bottom without getting any on
himself.  He despised Japanese-style toilets now.  Before the
curse, he had never noticed just how inconvenient they were--
for women, anyway, and he avoided whenever possible using
the washroom in his cursed form.  I hate pissing as a chick, he
thought, but Tofu wants a urine sample and so here I am.  He
winced as the splashback sprayed his hand, and he cursed the
necessity of squatting over the porcelain hole in the ground that
served as a toilet.  Halfway through he held back, clamping
down with muscles he'd rather not acknowledge; and carefully
putting the steaming container aside he reached for a glass of
hot water.  Trying to not think about what he was doing, he
splashed himself and reverted to maleness, grabbed a second
empty cup, shifted his stance, and relaxed once again.  "I really,
_really_ hate turning into a girl sometimes."
       A few minutes later he silently handed both
containers over to Doctor Tofu, who labeled them and put them
aside.  "Thanks, Ranma," he said.  "Hope it wasn't too much of
a bother."
      "Not at all," the boy answered.  "I mean, I just _love_
feeling my bladder shift and my testicles drop and everything."
      The doctor shrugged apologetically.  "Sorry."
      "No problem."
      The doctor resumed his check-up of the boy.  He
worked quickly and efficiently, running through the same series
of examinations--except where gender difference required a
change--as he had just performed on Ranma's girl-half.  At first
he worked silently, Ranma sitting through the process patiently,
but then he began to speak.
      "About six months ago," he started, startling the boy
back to attention, "you came here suffering from a pressure
point strike that Happosai had used against you.  Remember?"
Though Ranma had learned one of his most powerful
techniques because of that incident, it had proven one of the
most difficult ordeals of his life thus far.  The blow to his pride,
being struck down weak and near defenseless and forced to
depend on the charity of people like Ryoga, how it had rankled!
Even the thrill of victory, coming as it had despite his
weakness, had felt hollow, for he thought the only cure for the
pressure point curse lost in the battle.  So much nearly given
up, he had thought, because he had rescued Akane from the
cyclone he himself had created.
      It's funny, he thought, smiling mirthlessly.  Back
then, I didn't even question why I was willing to sacrifice my
cure to save my unwanted tomboy of a fiancee.  Now, it was all
too painfully obvious.
      "Well," continued Tofu, "I learned a lot from that
incident.  Actually, I've learned a lot through your injuries in
general, Ranma, and encountered techniques I only read of in
the most obscure of textbooks.  After encountering that
weakness pressure point and not being able to counter it, I
realized I needed more training."
      "Really?  I dunno, doc, you never seemed stupid or
nothing to me."
      Tofu smiled.  "Thanks . . . I think.  Now don't
move."  Ranma felt a tiny prick as the doctor slid a needle into
his arm, and pulled out a small blood sample.  "So I got in
contact with my old shiatsu teacher, who put me in touch with
his master, and without further delay I left for China.  It was . . .
a very enjoyable, if very difficult time."
      Ranma smiled wistfully.  "I know what you mean."
      "I suppose you do.  For three months, my teacher and
I settled in this remote farming village, not far from where you
traveled, if I'm not mistaken.  It was there, a few weeks into my
training, that I encountered one of the most difficult challenges
of my life."
      The young martial artist nodded.  "Yeah.  Which was
it for you?  Amazons, cursed pools, deranged monks, dragon
princes?"
      "I fell in love," Tofu said, and closing his eyes
briefly, he released a deep sigh.  "It was love like I've only
known once before, deep and dark and it lurked at the very
depth of my being, and it was all I could do to keep myself
from throwing myself at her feet; from proclaiming my love
and sweeping her away; from throwing aside everything I've
ever achieved to please her, if she wished it.  But it was stupid.
She was the daughter of a local farmer, a young girl already
betrothed to another man against whom I bore no grudge; and
more importantly, whether she knew it or not, I saw that she
cared for this other boy.  Not to mention my own life here in
Japan, and the pers--people in it, to which I would soon return.
      "But one day, as I was searching the surrounding
countryside for certain herbs my teacher required for my
training, we met.  Or rather, I saved her.  A small group of
brigands were attacking her.  I . . . intervened."  Again, Ranma
saw that momentary hardness in the doctor's eyes, and was
suddenly reminded of how little he really knew the doctor.
There was the kind, slightly goofy man that acted strange when
Kasumi was around; and now this, a hidden depth only rarely
glimpsed.  Which was the real Tofu?
      "The temptation was terrible," the doctor continued.
"She was so very grateful to me, and her interest was obvious,
and we were alone."  He chuckled.  "Maybe it's presumptuous
of me, but I rather imagine I appeared the dashing hero
appearing at the nick of time.  There would never be a better
chance to declare my love to her.  After all, that's what heroes
do, right?  But I couldn't.  It wasn't right, I needed control.  So
I retreated from her in the only way I knew how.
      "I hopped around in circles and made toothpicks out
of a couple of trees, and ran off laughing like a madman.  And
from that day on, every time I would see her I would act
strange, until the villagers eventually learned to keep her away
from me.  It hurt, and it was hard, being that way; but in the
long run it was probably best that she saw me like that.  And
eventually I finished my training there, and moved on, and
returned to Japan, and her final impression of me will always
be of the giggling lunatic, the bumbling doctor who passed
through during her youth and never returned."
      The doctor fell silent.  His gentle ministrations never
faltered once during his story.  After some time, Ranma
hesitantly spoke up.  "I . . . think you're wrong, doc.  I dunno,
but maybe the last thing she'll hold on to is that memory of the
'dashing hero' that saved her."  He shrugged.  "Seems like a
better memory than some geek makin' pretzels out'a lumber.
But I ain't no girl, so who knows?"
      Tofu's answer was a slight smile and tight grip.
"Turn your head and cough, please."


      They talked very little after that.  The doctor soon
finished.  "Well, that's it for now, so you're free to go.  Akane
went off ahead while I finished with you, but you can catch up
with her at school."  Tofu, maybe catching an indication of
doubt or indecision in the young boy, added, "I really think you
should follow her to school, Ranma.  Like I said, just for
today."
      Ranma nodded, an uncomfortable feeling churning
inside.
      "Ranma," the doctor asked, "are you okay?"
      "I-," he started, and hesitated.  The boy frowned.
"I'm . . . scared?"
      His face strangely impassive, Tofu asked, "About
what?"  He sat down on one of his beds, and patted the seat
next to him.  Ranma joined him distractedly, eyes clouded.
      "I'm not sure," the boy said.  "For Akane, of course.
And about what I'm going to do.  I didn't think leaving was
going to be this difficult.  But now that I've realized that I love
her . . . ."
      Tofu nodded.
      "But that's not it," he continued after a moment of
silent thought.  "I mean, all that's part of it, but it's all just so
big, too big for me to wrap my head around right now.  This is
something new."  Again, the doctor waited, until Ranma felt
ready to continue.  "I think . . . it's the idea of going back to
school.
      "Stupid, isn't it?" he snorted.  "With everything else
going on, I'm worried about something like that.  It's just that I
never thought I would be, you know, going back that is.  I
thought I left all that behind.  I mean, sure, part of me kinda
_wants_ to go back, try out some of that closure stuff Hinako
keeps going on about; but mostly, I don't think I want to see
any of those people ever again.  But like you said, I should stay
with Akane, she might need me, and even if she hates me, I
won't leave her when she's hurting."  He glanced aside at Tofu,
but finding no indication there whether Akane was ill or not,
continued.  "So I've got to go back, and I wonder what
people'll say and do, especially after the way I left last week."
      Tofu shrugged.  "That I can't tell you," he said.  "My
high school days are far behind me now.  Or as far behind as
they ever get.  Whatever else you might think of Furinkan,
Ranma, and of everything that's happened recently, believe me
when I say--you'll never forget."
      "No kidding, " Ranma said.
      "And now," the doctor added, "I'm sorry, but I have
to get back to work."
      A few minutes later the young martial artist found
himself alone and reluctant, standing out front of the doctor's
clinic.  Feeling uncomforted by his stopover, Ranma Saotome
resumed his slow walk to school.  The weather had taken a
decided turn for the worse during his checkup, and a strong,
bitter wind tugged insistently at his clothes, setting the trailing
end of his shirt to snapping.  Though still bright and sunny,
dark and heavy-looking clouds loomed on the horizon.  Good,
he thought, finally the weather's clueing in to my mood.
      He sought determination to carry him the final steps
back to Furinkan, but discovered resolve lacking within.  He
wavered between his acknowledged responsibilities to Akane--
especially if she were sick, which considering Tofu's unusually
clinical behavior seemed increasingly likely--and his strong
instinct to avoid the people responsible for his current situation.
If it hadn't been for that party, he thought, and for the way
those people treated me, none of this would have happened.  I
wouldn't have drunk so much, I wouldn't have pissed Akane
off by fighting, we wouldn't have argued, and everything
would still be the way it had been.
      And I wouldn't have realized how much I love her,
he added, and kicked at a stone.  Shit.
      Left to their own devices as his mind wandered
elsewhere, his feet deviated from the proper path, and he found
himself halfway to Ucchan's before taking notice.  You have to
do this, Ranma berated himself, and turned back.  I thought I
worked this through last week!
      But resolve achieved in an abstract setting proved
weak, and despite believing that his week alone in the forest
had brought around a state of mind from which he could
confront his peers, he found himself hesitant to doing so.  A
week ago, storming away from his school, anger had made him
superior; unreachable; and from his lofty perch he had judged
his fellow students and found them wanting.  They were
shallow and cruel and false, preoccupied with hollow pursuits
and wholly consumed with selfish desires . . . .
      And how he yearned for what they had and what they
were, the acknowledgment of his loneliness and the rightness
he felt at the Tendos convincing him that despite their
perceived shortcomings, they possessed something of value that
he had never known.  Perhaps he had touched upon it during
his stay at Furinkan--those relaxed moments between classes,
or waiting his turn during gym, or chatting with Hiroshi or
Daisuke after school; but how fleeting those times had been!  I
thought I found it during the party, he added, but look what
came of that!
      Then he found himself before the closed black gates
of Furinkan High School, and he dispelled any doubts he still
had.  Akane was in there, and the doctor had told him to watch
over her.  Concern overrode any personal fear he held about
entering.  As for his former friends and persecutors: he realized
that, compared to the argument of this morning and the
decision to leave the woman he loved behind, confronting the
people who had driven him away seemed meaningless; and
suddenly he was wholly without fear.  I'm only here for Akane,
he reminded himself, and everyone else can just screw off.
      Newly resolved, he hopped over the school wall and,
seeing the clock above, noted that he was over an hour late.  It
struck him as pointless to head to class when it had already
started, especially since rejoining school wasn't his reason for
being there.  Ranma could imagine the furor his late and sudden
arrival would cause, the flurry of note-passing and whispered
gossip that would take place; and he saw no reason to subject
himself or Akane to that.  Rather, he decided to check up on his
former fiancee from outside.  He meandered around to the other
side of the school, quickly clambered up one of the tall trees
lining the building, and leapt across the remaining distance.
Clinging spider-like to the wall, he crept over to his old
classroom.  Hanging from above the window, he slowly and
furtively glanced inside.
      Akane sat rigid in her seat, staring forward at
unrecognizable kanji drawn on the blackboard.  Frequently she
would turn slightly, eyes glancing up at the clock, before
returning her attention to the front.  Even at a distance Ranma
could tell that something was wrong: something nearly
imperceptible in her appearance conveyed the impression of
unhealthy tension, like a spring coiled tight and denied release.
It wasn't restrained anger--he recognized _that_ expression on
her all too well--but something entirely different.  If people are
bugging her about my return, he vowed, I'll kick the crap out of
every last one of them.
      Satisfied that Akane was at school and more-or-less
okay, the pigtailed martial artist retreated.  Already being near
the top of the school, he decided to hang out on the roof until
class was over.  As he approached the chain-link fence that kept
students from falling off (or, as was the more likely case at
Furinkan, either being thrown off or attempting dangerous
aerial martial techniques), he heard student voices talking.
      Clinging to the side of his school, unmindful of the
growing wind that sought to topple him, Ranma listened to the
conversation.  It beat listening to his own unhappy thoughts.


      First Boy:  "So, yeah, Goda, how's Kensuke doing?"
      Goda:  "Not so hot.  He's still pretty broken up about
the whole Ai thing."
      Girl:  "You ask me, the turnip deserves it."
      Goda:  "Yeah, well, nobody did, Maya, so shut it."
      Maya:  "Screw you.  Pass the tea."
      Second Boy: "What're you guys talking about?"
      Goda:  "Shit, Jun, you don't know?  Kensuke and Ai
broke up."
      Jun:  "No way!  When?"
      Goda:  "Yesterday.  But it started last week.  Um,
Monday."
      Maya:  "Big fight.  Ai found out Kensuke'd been
fooling around behind her back with Satomi, and-."
      First:  "Satomi Ito?"
      Goda:  "That stuck up bitch?  Get real, Kitano--
Satomi Tanaka.  From class 3-1.  You know, the one with the
huge tits."
      Maya:  "Hey, there's a girl here, you know, watch
your mouth, jackass!  Right.  Anyway, Kensuke was all pissed
off about getting his ass kicked by Yuuta, and-."
      Jun:  "What the hell were they fighting about,
anyway?"
      Goda:  "Kiyoshi's party.  Kensuke tried it on with
Yuuta's sister, and-."
      Maya:  "Shut up, Goda, you're getting it all wrong!"
      Goda:  "Bite me.  Pass the Pocky."
      Maya:  "You wish.  Anyway, Kensuke was all pissy
and Ai couldn't give a shit, and that just pissed him off more,
and they fought and she took off, but that slut Satomi came up
all, 'Oh, you poor stud of a man, you,' and they took off
together and-."
      Kitano:  "Bullshit.  I was with Satomi.  She wanted
help practicing her lines.  With Saotome gone, she figured she
might have a shot at a better part."
      Jun:  "Saotome Naoki?"
      Kitano:  "Moron.  Saotome Ranma!"
      Jun:  "Hey, that's right, I heard he ran off last week."
      Goda:  "I thought he took off _two_ weeks ago to
fight some Edo-period bead-chasing sword-wielding half-dog
demon hiding near Kyoto."
      Kitano:  "I heard it was a transvestite ninja-clan and
he was undercover as a cabaret dancer."
      Maya:  "Idiots.  He had that big fight with Akane at
the party, remember?  So Ayumi told me he was so upset over
the fight he decided to live the rest of his life as a woman."
      Jun:  "Eh, whatever."
      Goda:  "I thought you crashed the party.  Didn't you
see?"
      Maya:  "Like I give a shit about those two drama
cases?  Nah, I was taking care of bozo the drunk over there
while he picked his ball out of his throat."
      Ryuta Uehara:  "Maya. . . ."

***

noakes_m@hotmail.com
http://www.geocities.com/noakes_m

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