***
A weary sigh sounded in the Tendo house. The youngest girl was staring at the ceiling in the dark, contemplating the chaos that was her life. Not that chaos was so unusual in Nerima; this was personal.
Akane punched the pillow below her head and scratched her leg absently. Musing over Ranma had become an unfortunate habit with her. And tonight the marbles were rolling in her head endlessly. Resigned, the thoughts drifted back and forth nearly unheeded, yet pushing the bounds of sleep just beyond her grasp. She squelched the ache in her chest to the soothing whir of cicadas in the distance, and tried yet again to stop the line of thought entirely.
Damn.
The baka just wouldn't leave. She cared too much for him not to matter.
She hated herself for that. She knew he didn't like her and yet... the effect he could have over *her* was so powerful. Every time they were close to kissing, she prayed for it to happen despite his oh-so-obvious feelings. Even when she knew that he would later say it was a mistake. Somehow if he was willing at least for a minute, she would not give up her chance. She would take it. I really deserve better than this, she thought. Why did she have to be so desperate?
Yeah- she really hated herself sometimes.
That was why she treated him so badly. With every remark Ranma made plunging to the core, Akane's heart would twinge with the truth of it. He didn't like her. He didn't want her. Yet he insisted on shoving it in her face every chance he got. THAT's what he was being punished for.
Then again, she would also listen with a ready ear whenever Yuka and Sayuri insisted the cocky martial artist had feelings for her. She didn't completely believe them, of course, but it was comforting to let them try to convince her. Sometimes, even, it would work. And then they would fight. Ranma would say something heartless with his usual fervor, Akane would mallet him 'to infinity and beyond', and then she would silently cry herself to sleep.
Well, sobbing was more like it. Big, noiseless heaves that came in heavy gasps for air that was stale with impossibility. Why did she have to be so stupid?! Every time, she would fall for it. He would say something nice, and she would lose herself in the hope that he meant it, only to be torn down again minutes later. It was that small part of her that refused to believe he didn't care... that was what hurt every time he reaffirmed his stance on the issue. If only she could get it through her head once and for all, then it wouldn't hurt so much.
The common argument among her friends was her fiancé's tenacity in protecting her at all costs. But Akane couldn't pretend that Ranma was really her savior. For one thing, he was too much of a jerk. And for another, well... just look at how many others he would protect. Nodoka would be proud. So manly, such courage, such *honor*! Yes, she ruefully admitted to herself, Ranma was a nice guy. He never wanted anyone to be hurt. Not without extreme justification, anyway. Akane was generally considered to be an innocent, this was why he protected her. Stupid fucking honor.
And true, he had on occasions called her "his", kept her from the grab of many a would-be suitor. This brought up another issue- his ego, which the contrary jewel incident had illustrated to a point. He *wanted* all his fiancées in love with him, regardless of his own feelings. Or lack thereof, she thought dismally. Talk about unfair!
But then, she'd never seen Ukyo or Shampoo as mad at him as she got. Was it all in her head? Her temper couldn't be *that* bad, could it?
***
Akane rolled over and groaned in frustration. This was pathetic. Her line of thought certainly wasn't leading to anything productive, and in the meantime, she just couldn't sleep.
Maybe Kasumi has some good tea lying around the house.
Glancing at the clock on her nightstand (3:27) she made her way downstairs to the kitchen. Fumbling a minute for the lights, she blinked away the brightness with a sleepless yawn, and sighed again to the tile. It glared back unsympathetically. Akane set the kettle on the stove and sat quietly at the table, looking out the window into the void of darkness beyond.
There *was* that kiss he gave her in neko-ken. That brief, tender, unhesitant touch of his lips that left a soft, secret smile on her face for days.
Or would have, if he hadn't gone and said that it could have been anybody.
Well. It wasn't as if she was unpopular at school. There had to be someone who would appreciate her. Love her despite being a violent tomboy.
Ranma didn't treat her well. He didn't deserve her. He didn't know what he was missing. And she'd be damned if she would show him.
That was it exactly. She spent too much time hating herself when she should have been hating him. It was all his fault. Or if not, it was easier to pretend that it was. It was the only way to salvage her sanity and self-worth. Transference of hate. Transference of blame.
True, she already acted out that hate, via handy-dandy mallet. Now it was simply a matter of starting to believe it. Yes, that was how she would get over him. She would learn to hate him instead of love him.
Perhaps she only needed to hate Ranma for a little while before she could forgive herself. Then they could be friends, one day. Maybe even.. No! She must extinguish that last flickering hope within her. She was not doing this for him, but for herself.
Really.
Do I sound like I believe it yet?
Another long, drawn-out sigh. She yawned with its passing, and there was a brief pause in the stream of light from the doorway. Akane turned her head to see the retreating form of her fiancé, who had stolen up behind her in her mulled contemplation to lean against the doorframe, his arms crossed about his chest.
He rolled his head away across his shoulder at her queried inspection, and began to pad backwards, looking a bit rueful himself.
"R-Ran.. ma," she began, her voice muted from lack of recent speech.
He exhaled with a near grumble and inched forward into the shadows once again. The play of black hollow against jutting skin gave him a gaunt appearance, softened only by the texture of his shirt and the cascade of midnight hair over his shaded forehead. Still he wouldn't meet her eyes.
She wasn't really sure she wanted him to. Would he be able to see her turn of thoughts for the last hour and a half? Would he see her pain, her lack of judgement, her fear of him? The strength of those inane feelings that refused to be aborted?
But most importantly, would he make fun of her for crying?
He looked as uncomfortable as she did, even as he pointed to the kettle whirring and whistling behind her. As she tended the boiling water, she collected her thoughts. This was when it was hardest to ignore him. His show of vulnerability, his unusual silence muted all thoughts of her pain. She wished she could protect him.
Irritation got the better of her. Why should she care, anyway? "What are you doing up?" she snapped wickedly, turning to glare. Already part of her felt better. She *sounded* like she hated him. A smug nod to herself convinced her that she had acted appropriately. Well, passed the first test, at least.
"Can't sleep," he said roughly, bluntly. Not rising to the bait like she expected. What was the matter with him anyway?
"Hmph."
Her pouting was cut short by a deep gaze suddenly cast her way. Now she could see clearly that his eyes were dark, pained, and anything but cold. He fairly smoldered with… something. She had no defenses prepared against this Ranma.
"Just drop it, Akane."
"O-okay." She surprised herself. "I guess- do you want some tea, too?"
He sighed agreeably. "That would be great, thanks."
Wait. No comments about who made it? Something is wrong. She poured the tea carefully and tried to stop worrying. Ranma didn't need Akane to worry about him, and he'd be the first to tell her so. Honestly. Three minutes with the jerk and my brilliant plan is out the window.
Solidly, he dropped to the chair across from hers and drummed his fingers across the tabletop.
But he was up in a flash again when she muttered, having burnt her skin on the metal pot from the distraction of his presence.
"Akane," he murmured almost sweetly, frowning and cradling her hand gently. She tingled at the contact. What did he think he was doing? She wasn't going to be fooled into thinking he cared about her.
***
To be continued. Ah, one of these days.
***