Disclaimer: Borrowing from Takahashi.
A/N: I am not sure what this is. Maybe you can tell me? It came from a random image that popped into my head the other day. And before I get any irate complaints, Ranma's Dragon Whisker curse was cured, it says so in the anime and the manga.
Quiet Sunday
Nerima weekends were always chaotic and a Sunday afternoon where the dojo was silent was a rare occurrence indeed and one that Akane was taking full advantage of as opportunities to practice her martial arts without interruption were equally rare. Kasumi had gone to the market, Nabiki was off bilking some poor sod out of a few thousand yen, her father and Uncle Saotome were off trying to escape Happosai. Ranma was nowhere to be found which meant that she wouldn't be interrupted by Amazons or lost boys or the various other kooks with which Ranma seemed to involuntarily surround himself.
She went through the katas slowly and deliberately remembering that Sayuri had once compared them to a dance. And it was true, they were a dance. A dance with an unknown and unseen partner.
The door to the dojo whsshed softly as it opened but Akane was too wrapped up in her movements to notice. As she finished the last kata, a voice from behind her said "Not bad for a klutzy tomboy like you."
She turned around and decided not to bother hitting her fiance. It was a nice thing to say if rather roundabout but then that fit Ranma himself. She studied him carefully. Something was different.
"Ranma-" she began.
He shrugged, "Oh, that," and brushed a stray lock of hair out of his eyes, "It was those dumb guys who look like pork buns-,"
"Red bean buns," Akane interrupted.
„Pork buns," Ranma countered.
„No, red bean!" Akane snapped. They glared at each other, brown and blue eyes sparking with obstinance.
"ANYWAY" continued Ranma over Akane's continued insistence about red bean buns, "They don't get it that I ain't got the Dragon Whisker any more. They've been followin' me around all day. So I showed 'em."
"That still doesn't explain why you-"
"I'm gettin' there. They still didn't get it and ran off with the string thinkin' it was some new version of the whisker."
"You didn't have another?"
"No, that was the only one I got so I came home to look for another. It's getting' in my way."
Akane shrugged, "I think I've got some elastic back from when I wanted to be like Kasumi. I'll go and get it." She left the dojo.
When she returned, Ranma was doing katas of his own. It all seemed unconscious as though his body moved that way automatically. Somehow, he seemed different without the pigtail, half his face hidden behind a glossy black curtain. Oh, she'd seen him let his hair loose in girl form but this was different.
With the pigtail, Ranma was a man amongst men or what he believed to be a man amongst men, a big insensitive jerk. And, well, she had to admit it if only to herself there was a reason besides Genma's manipulations that had landed Ranma with four fiancees, with that pigtail, he was, well, for lack of a better word, hot.
Without it, as he was now, he seemed more vulnerable, gentler. The side of Ranma that was goodhearted, a bit timid and terrified of hurting anyone showed through. And, as she watched, he tossed his head back in a gesture to get the hair out of his eyes again, the gesture seemed to embody Ranma, a slight femininity from his girl side, the arrogance from his macho side and the rather sweet practicality of what Akane decided to dub his bishonen side, all of these parts fitting together to make one Ranma Saotome. She laughed quietly to herself. Only Ranma could manage to be a macho jerk and a bishonen at the same time.
Akane envied him sometimes. He knew what he wanted to be, what he was supposed to be as. Really, he knew who he was. It was expressing that self that was the trouble. Akane wasn't sure about anything. She had been once but he had changed all that with his brash ways and talents far in advance of hers or anyone else in Nerima's for that matter. She felt lost, often. She was no longer the foremost martial artist, hell she barely made it to the top ten. She could not be Kasumi much as she tried. She was not Kasumi. She could not be Nabiki whose eyes lit up at the parquet floors of a massive bank. She knew what use Ranma was to her. He protected her, pushed her and . . .and sometimes she thought that-but no, that wasn't a possibility. After all, what use was she to him?
She glanced down at the elastic bands she held in her hands and a small snicker escaped her as she realized what they were. Ranma finished his kata and turned to her as she held out her hand.
He jumped back as if he'd been stung. "No way! I ain't wearin' one o' those."
"What, you don't like Hello Kitty?" she deadpanned trying to be like Nabiki. She picked the bands up from the floor, "I'm sorry, those were the only ones I have. The kitchen might be a better place for you though."
"Not if you're cooking in it," Ranma muttered under his breath as he followed her.
"I heard that," Akane said only halfheartedly because there was something else she was curious about, "Ranma, why do you wear that pigtail? I mean, with the way your family and mine is about manliness . . ." She trailed off.
"Because-," began Ranma assertively and stopped.
Akane looked back at him as she began to search the kitchen.
"Huh, I never thought about it before," he considered, "I guess 'cause it's one thing I have complete control over and it only affects me so nobody gets hurt or anything."
Akane nodded and almost handed him the string she'd found but changed her mind.
"Let me, it's hard to do that by yourself even if you have a mirror" she said.
Ranma looked skeptical, "And wind up looking like one of those things from The Grinch that Stole Christmas?"
"That," Akane growled, "was because I was in a hurry. You were still under the dragon whisker curse, remember?"
It was suddenly very important to her to prove that she had competence at something, that she could be useful to him as more than a kidnapping victim. A little thing but still important. The two looked at each other. Ranma gave a bit of a long suffering sigh and gave in.
They sat together in the kitchen in companionable silence. Akane reveled in the chance to be with Ranma without interruption and without having to save face somehow by calling him a jerk and booting him out the window. Because the truth was, she liked being near him. He always smelled faintly of wood-smoke which she assumed was the result of his travels in China and something else that was merely Ranma.
And that was how Kasumi found them when she returned from the market a second later; sitting together as Akane deftly re-plaited Ranma's trademark pigtail. Kasumi watched them out of the corner of her eye as she put away the groceries. They were taking their time about it but they'd get there in the end.