Dsiclaimer: I don't own Ranma, or anything else, really. . . except my soul . . .

All right, here's a better summary. Nodoka is an Amazon. Genma and Ranma were cursed when Ranma was very small, instead of when he was sixteen, while they were on a family vacation –they lived in China, he was raised as an Amazon. Nodoka had the cure for his curse, but she wouldn't give it to him, she was just too thrilled to have a daughter. Genma she refused to cure because she found him to be a slovenly husband, even though he'd beaten her in combat, and because he was supposed to be watching Ranma when the little boy fell into the pool. So Ranma was raised being told he should live as a woman by his mother, since men were weak, and being told the opposite by his father. Then Ryouga comes along, and gets knocked into the spring of drowned pig, and starts chasing after Ranma, since Ranma knocked him in. Ranma, as a girl, loses because he had just gotten out of another fight (he had a broken arm, couldn't fight as well) and Nodoka decides Ranma should marry Ryouga. Ranma panics, explains things to Ryouga, and Genma suggests they leave for America, in the hopes that they'll find Tendo and he'll give them succor. Ryouga (who is Scottish and HOPELESSLY lost, so lost he's live in Japan all his life) offers to teach them English, and come along. So they have a kind of Chinese-Scottish accent, and sound very, very weird.

In the meantime, Akane, who, along with her sisters, was raised in America after their parents fled Happosai and Japan, was engaged through an arranged marriage to the son of her uncle's buisness associate, a boy named Jordan. Nabiki and Kasumi are already in college at the time when our story begins, and Akane is in her second semester at college – a college in her hometown, she only lives in the dormitories because the college requires all freshmen to live in dormitories. Ranma transfers in, he has to go to school because the whole reason he gave for coming to America was to go to school, and that's pretty much all he's allowed to do– emmigration officials come around now and again. So that's where we are right now, folks, at the start of the story. It'll be revealed later, but just so no one is terribly confused. . . .

Chapter One

There was once a time when I saw that man standing there and I thought of the future. I used to picture my children having his big soulful eyes, his dusky skin. And I was happy, happy in the knowledge that when he said he loved me, he meant it. He was obligated to marry me, because of our father's arrangement, but that didn't mean he was obligated to love me.

No, that he worked out all on his own. The love. I still remember when it first began, when he said he'd protect me no matter what. Now, he was a small man, and weaker than me. I could always take him. In the end, I knew it would be the other way around. But he offered. And I melted, just like the little sixteen-year-old I was.

We used to sneak into each other's rooms. My father knew about it, but he didn't care. He figured we'd be married soon anyway, and it didn't matter. The thought that frightens me the most right now is that I won't be able to forget the way he whispered my name, strangled and hoarse as we both arched back, or the way he would rest his head on my chest afterwards, trusting and innocent. I truly believe that those midnight trysts were innocent, we were children playing at the game of love, knowing nothing of betrayel.

But I have forgiven him too many times. I allowed myself to be wooed by sandy-blonde hair and soulful brown eyes. I allowed myself to be brainwashed by the idea of honor, despite the fact that it was soon apparent he had none. He was a lier, and a cheat, and a scoundrel. And I forgave him. I forgave it when he used to yell at me when I was trying to help him and never apologized, when he pushed me away and blamed me for the distance between us. I forgave him when he nodded and smiled at all of my deepest concerns, when he changed the subject from philosophy to video games. Forgave everything. This, however, I can't forgive.

"You have no idea why they put you in here?" I repeated, my eyes boring into his. He shifted uncomfortably on the narrow bed inside his cell. I knew full well why he was in jail, the officer in charge told me on the way in, while he was telling me the price for bail. He was under arrest for fraud, and quite a bit of it. He managed to cheat hundreds of people out of thousands of dollars, using Ebay to sell nonexistant goods, then skipping out on the account before they could be reported. They even managed to cover their tracks financially, due to the apparent brilliance of his partner.

The other half of "they" was called Natalie, and the jailer assured me she was quite lovely. The fact that his partner was female was a small consideration, however, by the time he got around to telling me about her. His fidelity I'm not prepared to call into question. I don't have to. The financial breach of honor was more than enough to release me from my father's contract, and if it isn't, I'll rip the damned thing up.

I am not marrying Mr. Jordan Simmons, come hell or high water, my father can disown me if he wants. I'm not marrying a spineless little lying excuse for a pre-med student. The bastard isn't even a martial artist.

"I swear, baby, I swear, I don't know anything. I think they have the wrong guy," he whined. Usually, the whining works. Usually I melt, right about here, and ask him to tell me his side. And he's always very good at inventing his side. This time, though, I'm not melting at all. I might, in fact, be freezing a bit.

"That's just terrible, Jordan, really. I'll get you out of there," I said, pulling off my engagement ring. His eyes widened. "Get one of the guards to hock this for you, I'm sure it will be enough," I snapped. I wanted to coo it at him. I wanted to smile sweetly as I made my exit. But I'm just not that good at self-control.

"What do you mean, baby? You don't have the money for it?" he asked.

"No, I mean that I don't want to marry you, you ruddy rutting insensitive honorless lying cheating shitting son of a two-faced whore!" I snapped, letting my temper get the best of. His jaw dropped. Before I could say anything else, and maybe get myself in trouble, I turned and left.

"Akane? Akane, baby, you can't leave me. . ." he pleaded. I was not, however, listening. I walked right out of the police station, down the big stone steps, and off into the chill night air. The wind whipped at my face and my hair, and I let it. I got to the bridge over the canal between campus and the town, and I couldn't help myself. I jumped up on the railing and threw my arms back.

"I'm FREE!" I screamed, at the top of my lungs. Or, at least, I started to. I got to the "f" in free before something flew by me and rammed into my torso, dragging me off the railing while knocking all the air out of my lungs. I was dragged back to the pavement, where the flying lump transformed into a human being– a human being who stood me back on my feet again and held me steady while I caught my breath.

Not that that won him any brownie points.

"What in the name of GOD do you think you're doing?" I screamed. He stepped back away from me, an expression of hurt on his face. He was carrying an industrial-size backpack, perfect for hiking, and he was filthy. A ruddy hiker. Not surprising. My college is pretty close to a national forest, and we get all kinds of people who've been wandering around on the Appalacian trail. They come in for a hot meal and a refill on their supplies. I can't remember ever seeing someone dressed up in a Chinese shirt for hiking, though, or seeing many hikers with that kind of muscle.

"Keeping you from jumping," he replied, shortly. He had some kind of weird accent. I glared up at him, clutching my ribs.

"I wasn't going to jump. I was CELEBRATING. Next time, ask before you try to remove someone's ribcage!" I snarled. He glowered right back at me.

"Well, you shouldn't be standing on rails to celebrate, you uncute tomboy!" he snapped. I blinked at him for a moment, too confused to retort.

"Uncute? Not, ugly? Or clumsy? You do know that 'uncute' isn't a word in the English language, right?" I snarled at last. His features darkened, and he pushed past me, towards town.

"I should have let you jump, the world would be a better place!" he called back. I glared at him for just a moment before continuing on my way. By the time I got back to my dorm room, I had forgotten all about the jerk.

I opened my door and found my roommate (and best friend) staring at her fish tank. Just staring. In her defense, she has rather interesting fish. One of them used to belong to the biology department, and he's a giant goldfish. Mutant-big goldfish. He's the leader of all the other goldfish in the room. She looked up as I came in, and smiled. I grinned back.

"Guess what?"

"What?" she asked, dutifully. I paused for dramatic effect.

"I broke up with Jordan!" I grinned. She leapt to her feet and trapped me in a big bear hug.

"At last! Free at last, free at last!" she cried, breaking away from me and jumping up and down. Normally, friends don't get this exited over this sort of thing, but she has a sort of special relationship with Jordan. They were lab partners in freshman biology. That is, in fact, how I met her. And ever since she met me, she's been bugging me to dump him. She HATES Jordan. Hates him more than she hates any of her ex-boyfriends, even. "Tell me how it happened!"

So I told her about the Ebay fraud, and Natalie, and how I gave him back the ring at the jail. She giggled in delight when I told her how small the cells were, and how they'd be detaining him overnight.

"It's like a dream come true!" she sighed, happily. She gave me a sidelong glance and dragged me over to the fridge. "This is an occasion for chocolate chip cookies!"

"Most definitely," I agreed. She pulled a bag of chocolate chip cookie mix, milk, and some eggs out of our fridge. From his cage on top of our fridge, one of her hermit crabs snapped at her. I hate the hermit crabs, they remind me of giant spiders. She has eleven of them. And eleven goldfish, four betas, and a chamelion at home who can only eat live crickets, which she also has to take care of. Shockingly, she's a Biology major. No pre-med, no pre-vet, just biology. The idea is, eventually, to get into chemistry and pharmaceuticals, but she's just too wishy-washy about what she wants to do. I have to hand it to her though, Kodachi does have a gift with plants and animals. And cooking. And, more interestingly, drugging her cooking.

I asked my roommate once, and only once, why she didn't try to market the drugs she could make. She told me it was because of her brother, and wouldn't say anything more about it. I had to do some research on him, of course, being a naturally curious person. Turns out he went stark raving mad at some point and tried to kill everyone in his high school, using a wooden sword he thought belonged to some ancient samurai. I suppose she drugged him and caused it, or something.

We made the cookies, and ate them happily, completely disregarding any caloric intake we might regret the next time we tried on swimsuits. I felt regret and sadness tugging at my heart, but I refused to give in to them. After all, it was for the best. He was a jerk, and it would be stupid to marry such a person, utterly stupid. So I ignored the pulling of my heart, and when his face kept flashing into my mind, I insisted Kodachi watch "Ever After" with me. Then, because she wussed out and went to bed, I watched "His Girl Friday" alone. And then "Mulan," and then "Pretty Woman." At last, completely exhausted, knowing I wouldn't have time to dream about him, I let my eyes close, and drifted off.

It was a hellish morning, as expected, and there were a few moments when I thought I really couldn't get out of bed. Kodachi, of course, had made coffee by then, and the scent of it wafting up to me was heavenly, so I got down from my bunk bed and had a cup. It's amazing how many concerns caffiene will chase away. Little concerns, like "What will I do now?" "How can I live without him?" "What will Father say?" and "Will he just give up quietly?"

Fortified with coffee and a candy bar, I trudged into my first class. It was new, a four-week course offered for the second half of the regular semester, and it was my first day. Otherwise, I would have skipped it and slept in. The only reason I even have a class that early in the morning is my friend Iris was taking it, and she talked me into it. Of course, I need to take it sometime anyway, or else she wouldn't have been able to persuade me.

I smiled and waved at Iris as I walked in, and took a seat next to her. She eyed me for a moment, her dark brown bangs falling into her eyes.

"All right, what happened?" she asked. That's what I like about Iris, she's always right to the point.

"I broke up with Jordan," I told her. She whistled, long and low.

"Good for you. Are you okay?" she asked. I nodded. She reached over to pat my hand, her expression serious– which is rare. "I'm glad to hear it. This is going to be really, really hard for you. Maybe the worst break-up of your life. If you can handle this, you're good," she informed me. I blinked in confusion.

"Why would this one be the worst?"

"First love, sugar. First love. This is the part where you realize that love isn't all it's cracked up to be, and sex is meaningless, and most importantly, that you can't always tell how the story is going to end by the book jacket." she looked around for a moment, then lowered her voice and leaned in, as if telling me a secret. "Truth be told, if you want to make this easier on yourself, have some one-night stands. Orgasms are good for your outlook on life, and besides, it would help you to stop associating sex with him. You don't want to associate sex with him, or else you'll think you want to get back together with him when you're really just horny."

"Seriously?" I asked, dubious. She nodded, and leaned back into her seat. If there's someone who would know, it's Iris. She's been around the block enough times. . . and she handles break-ups better than anyone I know. I mean, I've been outwardly fine so far, but that's because I'm not thinking about it. If I start thinking, or if I have a really bad day, I'll just lose it. I know that. But Iris. . . I've never seen Iris lose it over a guy, period.

I let my eyes wander off, thinking about what she said. I would like to think sex is an expression of love. . . but I know better. Or maybe I'm just sort of prejudiced against idealism, since it was idealism that let the whole mess with Jordan go on this far. On yet another hand. . . it was idealism that let the whole mess with Jordan go on this far.

My train of thought came to a screeching halt as a short man with long black hair and shockingly blue eyes stepped into the room. He was wearing a red Chinese shirt, just like before, and black pants, just like before. His lips curled down when he saw me, and he took a seat on the other side of the classroom.

"That one. . . that one would be a good start," Iris whispered to me, staring at the man who'd knocked me off the railing. "In fact, I'd take him myself, but you need it more."

"Oh, please," I snorted. But I was staring, too. Fortunately, I didn't have the chance to stare long enough for him to notice. The teacher came in, an old man with matted grey hair and a long, tangled beard.

"Good morning, class. Welcome to Writing 105."