Disclaimer: Ranma ½ belongs to Rumiko Takahashi.
==========
PROLOGUE: THE TICKET-COLLECTOR AKITO SON
Hi there. My name is Akito. Let me tell you something about the Son family. Both my mother and father spent their teens in the 1950's, in the post-World War 2 era. It's been noted that children who grew up in that time of hardship and fear almost always have an air of seriousness about them. My mom always said that it was because their childhoods were marked with sadness.
Anyway, my parent's seriousness rubbed off on me (or so I'm told). My dad had been part of the volunteer laborers who helped rebuild Tokyo after the war. He met my mom in his late thirties, because she was one of the volunteer women who cooked food for the laborers. They were married two years later, and nine months later, my mom gave birth to twins.
Now, my father is the proud owner of Bus 14D, one of the many buses that go from Tokyo to Kyoto. The ride alone takes eight hours. Many people have different reasons for boarding the bus. Thrice a month, a pharmacist goes on board to make a trip to his childhood sweetheart. An accountant goes back and forth between the two cities to make important business transactions.
There are the businessmen, the young lovers, the sightseers, the swindlers. And there are the runaways. They are those who feel like they can't take what life throws to them, so they simply run away. Sometimes, I take quick interest in these people, most of them in their teens. When they board, I can take one look at them and know right away. They hand me their money, and sometimes they talk on their own free will.
More often than not, their stories are the same. They babble some boring story about how their parents don't understand how they feel, or how their college tuition fees aren't going to be paid on time. Usually, I don't even bother with the pretense of being interested. I can look away or leave the aisle, and they'll still be talking.
But, I must admit, there are those rare runaways who make the seemingly boring task of collecting bus tolls worthwhile.
This is a collection of those people I've helped get over their unresolved issues.
==========
CHAPTER 1: UNRESOLVED ISSUES: AKANE'S STORY
(This is told in Akane's POV)
I didn't know how long I'd been crying. The nerve! Ranma Saotome, my fiancé, is a lying, selfish, egotistical bastard. And it's not only because he has THREE other fiancés aside from me, but it's also because I always catch him being friendly with them. Just last week, I saw him in Ukyo's pancake house, practically jumping all over the counter to hug that fiancé. I didn't even try to listen to his pathetic excuse.
The other day, he was planning his wedding with Kodachi Kuno! They were in the front grounds of our Furinkan High School, and there he was, whispering to her in hushed tones while Kuno-sempai gave his blessings. What did Ranma say about that? I don't remember. In any case, he was lying.
And the last straw was when I caught him snuggling up with Shampoo near the Cat Restaurant. His arms were around her in complete abandon, and she was standing very close in bliss. I stormed off before Ranma could even open his mouth to speak.
I am NOT over-suspicious in any way. I do NOT assume things that are not true. I am NOT jealous of anyone. Ranma accuses me of all of the above. I admit that I am slightly annoying at times, but I had no idea that I'd crossed the boundary when I turned off the water heater of the dojo just to spite him. I still think it was kind of funny how he'd banged on the pipes in desperation to turn back into a man when the public bath had closed for the day. Only tonight I realized what a mistake I'd made.
Because tonight, he announced that we'd broken the engagement.
(Flashback)
"Yo Pops, me and Akane say that we'd rather commit suicide than marry each other."
My father and Mr. Saotome, human form, had sputtered and protested to no avail. Ranma was firm on his decision. I stared up at him from where I sat at the table, watching his handsome face shout out more insults at me. I didn't hear a word of what he said because all that filled my mind was a strange, desperate void. All that I heard was a shrill sound of warning.
I'd never seen Ranma so set on refusing something from his father. And of course, our parents, Nabiki, and Kasumi had turned to me with uneasy expressions. My father and his friend had been trying to talk their son out of 'our' decision to break the engagement plans, but this hadn't gotten any positive response. If anything, Ranma was looking more annoyed by the second. My father was the first to speak.
"Is this true, my beloved daughter?" he asked, his eyes brimming with tears. I watched numbly as Mr. Saotome put a hand on my father's shoulder as if to steady him. "Would the both of you rather die than marry each other?"
I'm not sure if those were his exact words or not, because the shrill warning siren in my head was yet to fade away completely. In any case, I just knew what he was asking me. I had still been watching Ranma all this time, and he'd just noticed that I was staring at him. He glared at me, as if to tell me this was my entire fault.
It took a while for me to open my mouth, and even longer for the void in my mind to shush the warning and form words.
"Yes," I said, eating my words. "There's no way I'm not going to marry that idiot."
I don't know how many times I'd said this in the past. Only now, these words seemed to have the effect I'd always thought I wanted. I watched, half-numb, as my father fell forward onto the table to cry in his arms. Nabiki leaned back on the tatami mats with a surprised look on her face, and Kasumi put a hand over her mouth. Mr. Saotome was telling something about what an ungrateful son he'd raised. I didn't notice as Ranma sat down in his place across the table from me.
I stared at the table as I thought about what I'd just said. As much as I hated to admit it, I did have feelings for Ranma. Apparently, he didn't have any for me. If in the past, I'd thought Ranma hated me, now I was completely sure.
The 'click' sound of chopsticks being put on the table put me out of my thoughts. I looked up and saw Ranma staring at me, as lost in his thoughts as I'd been in mine. Everyone around us was in chaos, talking and crying, and there we sat, staring at each other openly.
(End of flashback)
But now, I'd come to my senses, and I was the same Akane Tendou I'd been before I even met Ranma. At least, that was what I was trying to tell myself. I think it was working. I was in my room, looking through some random magazines, but not really reading at all. It's hard to explain; it's like something inside me just crashed in when Ranma broke the engagement in such a cold manner.
He hadn't cared for me at all, even a little, and that fact hurt me more than I cared to admit. It scared me to think that the next day, I was going to come out of my room, and see Ranma in the wooden hall. Then we'd see each other in school. We were, after all, seatmates. We'd see each other in the dojo: where else could we practice without being disturbed?
I flipped through another page as the thought fully formed in my mind: I had to get away.
I had get away from everything; I needed a break. Everything I did seemed to cost me more energy than it originally did. The simple task of turning the glossy magazine paper seemed to make my fingers sigh in protest. As soon as the full realization of this hit me, I started to cry. Big, unhappy, uncertain tears. Where would I go? I had some savings, good enough to get to another city and stay there for a few days. But where would I go?
The tears rolled heavily down my cheeks and off my chin to land on the magazine before me. I looked down, and there it was: Fate. Destiny. I was never a believer in either of those two, but I couldn't have described this moment as anything else. It was an ad to visit Kyoto...
'KYOTO: THE HEART OF JAPAN! COME VISIT AND COME ALIVE WITH OUR BREATHTAKING SCENERY AND MAJESTIC TEMPLES! EVERYTHING IS HERE FOR THE YOUNG AND THE YOUNG AT HEART!'
As if to proclaim and confirm what the ad just said, there were pictures of the scenic Kyoto, from the high temple gardens to the sun-bathed park areas. I don't know what came over me. My hands suddenly became sweaty, and from my laying position on the bed, I sprang to stand up on the carpeted floor. I sat at my desk and took in the beautiful photos.
Kyoto! Of course!
There were lists of the buses that left from Tokyo to Kyoto every other day. Only one of these buses departed from Nerima. It was the Bus 14D, which departed at seven AM every single morning. I took a red ball pen and circled the ad, feeling a tingly feeling of adventure rising in my gut. The tears on my face had long dried. I was filled with a grim sense of determination.
I was going to go crazy if I stayed in this current situation. I had to take a break.
It was nearing eleven at night. I turned around slowly in my seat to look at my room. Was I really going to go through with this? Part of me said that it was a stupid plan, but I kept pushing that annoying voice away. Yes, I was going through with this. I stood up, and with renewed energy, I headed directly for the duffel bag in the closet.
I went back and forth around the room, stuffing items inside. Extra shirts, pants, socks, underwear. The basics. A good book for boring times, a sweater, because it was November. I brought along a flashlight and matches and the small foldable tent, because I might need to camp outside. If Ryoga could get across Japan by camping out in vacant lots, then so could I.
By the time it was almost one in the morning, I was finished packing. The duffel bag lay heavily on one shoulder, but I could carry it without problem. I carried the duffel bag and stood in front of my full-length mirror, feeling kind of stupid. I didn't see someone about to go on a life- changing trip by herself. What I saw was a young girl with messy black hair cut just below her ears and large hazel eyes that were slightly glazed with manic energy.
In any case, I brought the bag to the closet and stuffed it inside. I knew that it was almost impossible for someone to come in my room in the middle of the night and see the duffel bag. But the universal truth remained: it's better safe than sorry. I thought about this as I turned off the lights and crawled into bed only to stare up at the dark ceiling.
Anything was better than staying in this hellhole.
==========
The crisp morning air made me sigh in contentment. I was standing at the bus stop somewhere in outer Nerima with the duffel bag. I wore a hooded jacket and jeans and rubber shoes.
The Bus 14D was already there before me, but I was waiting for other passengers. I'd left the house at six in the morning, when only Kasumi was awake. I hadn't even said goodbye. I simply slipped out the front door and made my way to the bus stop by walking and taking my time. I'd arrived at the bus stop fifteen minutes before seven, and I was filled with a sense of nervousness.
See, I'd left a note with Nabiki, my older sister. In case something should happen to me, I thought someone in the Tendou dojo should know where I was heading and where I was seen last. So, I slipped a note in Nabiki's schoolbag. I knew that by the time she'd open her schoolbag, it would be eight in the morning, and I would have been one hour into the road already. But still, she could open the bag ahead of my estimated time, read it, and tell everyone. I'd specifically told her in the note not to tell anyone where I was until I hadn't come back in a week or so.
Even as I stood there looking so confident with my arms across my chest, my back tingled with the fear that someone I knew would suddenly appear and ask me what I was doing. The navy blue bus before me loomed invitingly. Finally, with a sigh of resignation, I went up to the entrance and peered in.
The bus driver, a heavily tanned man in his fifties, stared back at me. He was wearing the formal suit common to all public transportation divers. I looked further into the bus as I stepped in hesitantly. There were about fifty cushioned red seats, at the sides by sets of two. So far, only one of these seats was occupied. A scrawny-looking adolescent sat at the very center of the bus, staring out the window.
He looked way too young to be traveling by himself, and so I approached him. I really do have a caring streak. I sat in the seat beside him without a word, and he turned his gaze to look at me unconcernedly. He was a good- looking young kid, with dark brown hair and green eyes which emphasized his light tan. He wore a loose white shirt and pants that were cut below the knee.
Something about him made me slightly uneasy. He looked at my duffel bag, which was left in the aisle. I felt as if he could see my slight nervousness at the thought of being caught, the sleeplessness in my eyes from the night before. He opened his mouth to speak. I swallowed hard, but all he said was:
"You'd better put that up there."
He pointed directly up, and I realized that he meant I was supposed to put my bag in the hollow compartment directly overhead. I smiled sheepishly and stood to put the duffel bag where it belonged, groaning at the weight. When I looked back down to the kid, I saw him smirking, and I began to sweat. Where were the other passengers? Couldn't we leave? What if dad came bursting in-
The bus door opened again, and I looked to see an old man hobble into the bus. I gave a sigh of relief. I was getting really jumpy. There was nothing to worry about, see? I thought to myself.
"Runaway," the kid suddenly piped up even before my sigh was finished. The whistle ending of my sigh started up again to become a high-pitched gasp of surprise. But I recovered quickly, and I gave him a grimace.
"And where are YOUR parents, kid?" I asked him, slipping back into the cushioned seat. "You're too young to be traveling by yourself."
The kid smirked. "That's my dad over there," he said without pride, pointing to the man at the wheel of the bus. I was somewhat taken aback by his indifferent attitude. "I'm the toll collector," he continued.
"What about your studies?" I'm sure my face was a mask of surprise, but I didn't really care.
"I'm not going to go to school. I'll be a trash collector," he said. I could hear the thinly veiled sarcasm in his voice, and I frowned. I ignored it.
"What's your name?" I asked him. He smiled toothily, revealing overgrown canines, like the ones Ryoga had. Where was Ryoga? I shook my head abruptly to discontinue that train of thought. For some reason, it was interesting to talk to the young boy in front of me.
"Akito Son."
"Akito?" The smile on my face wavered uncertainly. Didn't Akito mean demon? What kind of parents would name their own son that? As if he could read my thoughts, the adolescent grinned.
"I'm a demon," he said. I felt the sweat form instantly on my forehead and roll down my temple. He said it with so much ease. To change the topic, I blurted out:
"When's the bus leaving?"
As if in answer, the floor of the bus gave a mild jolt, and the bus started forward. Akito smirked again. I was started to get the feeling that he was provoking me on purpose, always smirking and grinning like that. And his answers to her questions were out-of-the-ordinary. I gave a huff and leaned back into my seat. Akito went back to staring out the window.
I glanced at my watch. 7:15 am. Nabiki and my father would be awake by this time. But there was nothing anyone could do. The bus was already on its way. When we had been on the road for a few more minutes, I sat up and brought my knees to the cushioned seat, staring back over the red backing. I stared through the back window of the bus at the bus-stop shed, which was quickly becoming smaller. The bus went slightly downhill, and the shed disappeared completely.
"Nervous?" Akito asked, and his head whipped around to look at me. There was definitely something weird about this kid. He hadn't even moved his thin neck, as far as I could see. I shook my head. No. "Why are you still sitting beside me?"
"Is there a problem?" I asked hotly.
"Toll money," he said, abruptly changing topics. Another bead of sweat rolled down my back.
"Toll money," he repeated. "You got to pay to ride to Kyoto. I'm the toll collector, remember?"
If the fact that I didn't believe him showed on my face, he must have seen it. because he reached for an ID in his pants pocket. It showed his face, and the name of the bus, verification number, the name of his father. In bold yellow letters there was the print: 'TOLL-COLLECTOR, BUS 14D'
Grudgingly, I took the wallet out of my jacket sleeve and paid him. I half- expected him to stand up and go to the old man, who was the only other passenger on the bus, and ask for the old man's toll fee. But he didn't. He just let out his breath and continued to stare out the window.
Lost in my own thoughts, I began to think about Ranma. He always insulted me mercilessly, as if I had no feelings whatsoever. Always, I acted like I didn't care, but the truth was that even if his snide remarks were bad enough, what hurt most was the fact that I could never be truthful about my feelings towards him. At this, I stopped myself. What was I thinking? I don't like that perverted maniac at all. Even if our parents had arranged our marriage, we hate each other! He's mean and selfish and-
"-you here?"
"Huh?" I sputtered, having been interrupted from my musing. Akito was looking at me expectantly, his green eyes gleaming with interest.
"So why are you running away from?"
"I'm not running away," I said to him in a matter-of-factly tone. "I'm just getting away for a while."
"Oh really." There it was! The sarcasm I was quickly coming to hate. "You know, you have a whole lot of unresolved issues."
"Now you're psychic?" I asked him, scoffing in spite of myself. Yes, I was stooping down to his level, but it was refreshing. After watching my moves around the Tendou dojo too long, I could act like a kid.
"Something like that," Akito said. "My mother is a witch. You know what, I've decided that I'm going to help you get over your unresolved issues."
I could only stare, stupefied, as the bus continued on it's way to Kyoto.
=========
TBC... REVIEWS! (
==========
PROLOGUE: THE TICKET-COLLECTOR AKITO SON
Hi there. My name is Akito. Let me tell you something about the Son family. Both my mother and father spent their teens in the 1950's, in the post-World War 2 era. It's been noted that children who grew up in that time of hardship and fear almost always have an air of seriousness about them. My mom always said that it was because their childhoods were marked with sadness.
Anyway, my parent's seriousness rubbed off on me (or so I'm told). My dad had been part of the volunteer laborers who helped rebuild Tokyo after the war. He met my mom in his late thirties, because she was one of the volunteer women who cooked food for the laborers. They were married two years later, and nine months later, my mom gave birth to twins.
Now, my father is the proud owner of Bus 14D, one of the many buses that go from Tokyo to Kyoto. The ride alone takes eight hours. Many people have different reasons for boarding the bus. Thrice a month, a pharmacist goes on board to make a trip to his childhood sweetheart. An accountant goes back and forth between the two cities to make important business transactions.
There are the businessmen, the young lovers, the sightseers, the swindlers. And there are the runaways. They are those who feel like they can't take what life throws to them, so they simply run away. Sometimes, I take quick interest in these people, most of them in their teens. When they board, I can take one look at them and know right away. They hand me their money, and sometimes they talk on their own free will.
More often than not, their stories are the same. They babble some boring story about how their parents don't understand how they feel, or how their college tuition fees aren't going to be paid on time. Usually, I don't even bother with the pretense of being interested. I can look away or leave the aisle, and they'll still be talking.
But, I must admit, there are those rare runaways who make the seemingly boring task of collecting bus tolls worthwhile.
This is a collection of those people I've helped get over their unresolved issues.
==========
CHAPTER 1: UNRESOLVED ISSUES: AKANE'S STORY
(This is told in Akane's POV)
I didn't know how long I'd been crying. The nerve! Ranma Saotome, my fiancé, is a lying, selfish, egotistical bastard. And it's not only because he has THREE other fiancés aside from me, but it's also because I always catch him being friendly with them. Just last week, I saw him in Ukyo's pancake house, practically jumping all over the counter to hug that fiancé. I didn't even try to listen to his pathetic excuse.
The other day, he was planning his wedding with Kodachi Kuno! They were in the front grounds of our Furinkan High School, and there he was, whispering to her in hushed tones while Kuno-sempai gave his blessings. What did Ranma say about that? I don't remember. In any case, he was lying.
And the last straw was when I caught him snuggling up with Shampoo near the Cat Restaurant. His arms were around her in complete abandon, and she was standing very close in bliss. I stormed off before Ranma could even open his mouth to speak.
I am NOT over-suspicious in any way. I do NOT assume things that are not true. I am NOT jealous of anyone. Ranma accuses me of all of the above. I admit that I am slightly annoying at times, but I had no idea that I'd crossed the boundary when I turned off the water heater of the dojo just to spite him. I still think it was kind of funny how he'd banged on the pipes in desperation to turn back into a man when the public bath had closed for the day. Only tonight I realized what a mistake I'd made.
Because tonight, he announced that we'd broken the engagement.
(Flashback)
"Yo Pops, me and Akane say that we'd rather commit suicide than marry each other."
My father and Mr. Saotome, human form, had sputtered and protested to no avail. Ranma was firm on his decision. I stared up at him from where I sat at the table, watching his handsome face shout out more insults at me. I didn't hear a word of what he said because all that filled my mind was a strange, desperate void. All that I heard was a shrill sound of warning.
I'd never seen Ranma so set on refusing something from his father. And of course, our parents, Nabiki, and Kasumi had turned to me with uneasy expressions. My father and his friend had been trying to talk their son out of 'our' decision to break the engagement plans, but this hadn't gotten any positive response. If anything, Ranma was looking more annoyed by the second. My father was the first to speak.
"Is this true, my beloved daughter?" he asked, his eyes brimming with tears. I watched numbly as Mr. Saotome put a hand on my father's shoulder as if to steady him. "Would the both of you rather die than marry each other?"
I'm not sure if those were his exact words or not, because the shrill warning siren in my head was yet to fade away completely. In any case, I just knew what he was asking me. I had still been watching Ranma all this time, and he'd just noticed that I was staring at him. He glared at me, as if to tell me this was my entire fault.
It took a while for me to open my mouth, and even longer for the void in my mind to shush the warning and form words.
"Yes," I said, eating my words. "There's no way I'm not going to marry that idiot."
I don't know how many times I'd said this in the past. Only now, these words seemed to have the effect I'd always thought I wanted. I watched, half-numb, as my father fell forward onto the table to cry in his arms. Nabiki leaned back on the tatami mats with a surprised look on her face, and Kasumi put a hand over her mouth. Mr. Saotome was telling something about what an ungrateful son he'd raised. I didn't notice as Ranma sat down in his place across the table from me.
I stared at the table as I thought about what I'd just said. As much as I hated to admit it, I did have feelings for Ranma. Apparently, he didn't have any for me. If in the past, I'd thought Ranma hated me, now I was completely sure.
The 'click' sound of chopsticks being put on the table put me out of my thoughts. I looked up and saw Ranma staring at me, as lost in his thoughts as I'd been in mine. Everyone around us was in chaos, talking and crying, and there we sat, staring at each other openly.
(End of flashback)
But now, I'd come to my senses, and I was the same Akane Tendou I'd been before I even met Ranma. At least, that was what I was trying to tell myself. I think it was working. I was in my room, looking through some random magazines, but not really reading at all. It's hard to explain; it's like something inside me just crashed in when Ranma broke the engagement in such a cold manner.
He hadn't cared for me at all, even a little, and that fact hurt me more than I cared to admit. It scared me to think that the next day, I was going to come out of my room, and see Ranma in the wooden hall. Then we'd see each other in school. We were, after all, seatmates. We'd see each other in the dojo: where else could we practice without being disturbed?
I flipped through another page as the thought fully formed in my mind: I had to get away.
I had get away from everything; I needed a break. Everything I did seemed to cost me more energy than it originally did. The simple task of turning the glossy magazine paper seemed to make my fingers sigh in protest. As soon as the full realization of this hit me, I started to cry. Big, unhappy, uncertain tears. Where would I go? I had some savings, good enough to get to another city and stay there for a few days. But where would I go?
The tears rolled heavily down my cheeks and off my chin to land on the magazine before me. I looked down, and there it was: Fate. Destiny. I was never a believer in either of those two, but I couldn't have described this moment as anything else. It was an ad to visit Kyoto...
'KYOTO: THE HEART OF JAPAN! COME VISIT AND COME ALIVE WITH OUR BREATHTAKING SCENERY AND MAJESTIC TEMPLES! EVERYTHING IS HERE FOR THE YOUNG AND THE YOUNG AT HEART!'
As if to proclaim and confirm what the ad just said, there were pictures of the scenic Kyoto, from the high temple gardens to the sun-bathed park areas. I don't know what came over me. My hands suddenly became sweaty, and from my laying position on the bed, I sprang to stand up on the carpeted floor. I sat at my desk and took in the beautiful photos.
Kyoto! Of course!
There were lists of the buses that left from Tokyo to Kyoto every other day. Only one of these buses departed from Nerima. It was the Bus 14D, which departed at seven AM every single morning. I took a red ball pen and circled the ad, feeling a tingly feeling of adventure rising in my gut. The tears on my face had long dried. I was filled with a grim sense of determination.
I was going to go crazy if I stayed in this current situation. I had to take a break.
It was nearing eleven at night. I turned around slowly in my seat to look at my room. Was I really going to go through with this? Part of me said that it was a stupid plan, but I kept pushing that annoying voice away. Yes, I was going through with this. I stood up, and with renewed energy, I headed directly for the duffel bag in the closet.
I went back and forth around the room, stuffing items inside. Extra shirts, pants, socks, underwear. The basics. A good book for boring times, a sweater, because it was November. I brought along a flashlight and matches and the small foldable tent, because I might need to camp outside. If Ryoga could get across Japan by camping out in vacant lots, then so could I.
By the time it was almost one in the morning, I was finished packing. The duffel bag lay heavily on one shoulder, but I could carry it without problem. I carried the duffel bag and stood in front of my full-length mirror, feeling kind of stupid. I didn't see someone about to go on a life- changing trip by herself. What I saw was a young girl with messy black hair cut just below her ears and large hazel eyes that were slightly glazed with manic energy.
In any case, I brought the bag to the closet and stuffed it inside. I knew that it was almost impossible for someone to come in my room in the middle of the night and see the duffel bag. But the universal truth remained: it's better safe than sorry. I thought about this as I turned off the lights and crawled into bed only to stare up at the dark ceiling.
Anything was better than staying in this hellhole.
==========
The crisp morning air made me sigh in contentment. I was standing at the bus stop somewhere in outer Nerima with the duffel bag. I wore a hooded jacket and jeans and rubber shoes.
The Bus 14D was already there before me, but I was waiting for other passengers. I'd left the house at six in the morning, when only Kasumi was awake. I hadn't even said goodbye. I simply slipped out the front door and made my way to the bus stop by walking and taking my time. I'd arrived at the bus stop fifteen minutes before seven, and I was filled with a sense of nervousness.
See, I'd left a note with Nabiki, my older sister. In case something should happen to me, I thought someone in the Tendou dojo should know where I was heading and where I was seen last. So, I slipped a note in Nabiki's schoolbag. I knew that by the time she'd open her schoolbag, it would be eight in the morning, and I would have been one hour into the road already. But still, she could open the bag ahead of my estimated time, read it, and tell everyone. I'd specifically told her in the note not to tell anyone where I was until I hadn't come back in a week or so.
Even as I stood there looking so confident with my arms across my chest, my back tingled with the fear that someone I knew would suddenly appear and ask me what I was doing. The navy blue bus before me loomed invitingly. Finally, with a sigh of resignation, I went up to the entrance and peered in.
The bus driver, a heavily tanned man in his fifties, stared back at me. He was wearing the formal suit common to all public transportation divers. I looked further into the bus as I stepped in hesitantly. There were about fifty cushioned red seats, at the sides by sets of two. So far, only one of these seats was occupied. A scrawny-looking adolescent sat at the very center of the bus, staring out the window.
He looked way too young to be traveling by himself, and so I approached him. I really do have a caring streak. I sat in the seat beside him without a word, and he turned his gaze to look at me unconcernedly. He was a good- looking young kid, with dark brown hair and green eyes which emphasized his light tan. He wore a loose white shirt and pants that were cut below the knee.
Something about him made me slightly uneasy. He looked at my duffel bag, which was left in the aisle. I felt as if he could see my slight nervousness at the thought of being caught, the sleeplessness in my eyes from the night before. He opened his mouth to speak. I swallowed hard, but all he said was:
"You'd better put that up there."
He pointed directly up, and I realized that he meant I was supposed to put my bag in the hollow compartment directly overhead. I smiled sheepishly and stood to put the duffel bag where it belonged, groaning at the weight. When I looked back down to the kid, I saw him smirking, and I began to sweat. Where were the other passengers? Couldn't we leave? What if dad came bursting in-
The bus door opened again, and I looked to see an old man hobble into the bus. I gave a sigh of relief. I was getting really jumpy. There was nothing to worry about, see? I thought to myself.
"Runaway," the kid suddenly piped up even before my sigh was finished. The whistle ending of my sigh started up again to become a high-pitched gasp of surprise. But I recovered quickly, and I gave him a grimace.
"And where are YOUR parents, kid?" I asked him, slipping back into the cushioned seat. "You're too young to be traveling by yourself."
The kid smirked. "That's my dad over there," he said without pride, pointing to the man at the wheel of the bus. I was somewhat taken aback by his indifferent attitude. "I'm the toll collector," he continued.
"What about your studies?" I'm sure my face was a mask of surprise, but I didn't really care.
"I'm not going to go to school. I'll be a trash collector," he said. I could hear the thinly veiled sarcasm in his voice, and I frowned. I ignored it.
"What's your name?" I asked him. He smiled toothily, revealing overgrown canines, like the ones Ryoga had. Where was Ryoga? I shook my head abruptly to discontinue that train of thought. For some reason, it was interesting to talk to the young boy in front of me.
"Akito Son."
"Akito?" The smile on my face wavered uncertainly. Didn't Akito mean demon? What kind of parents would name their own son that? As if he could read my thoughts, the adolescent grinned.
"I'm a demon," he said. I felt the sweat form instantly on my forehead and roll down my temple. He said it with so much ease. To change the topic, I blurted out:
"When's the bus leaving?"
As if in answer, the floor of the bus gave a mild jolt, and the bus started forward. Akito smirked again. I was started to get the feeling that he was provoking me on purpose, always smirking and grinning like that. And his answers to her questions were out-of-the-ordinary. I gave a huff and leaned back into my seat. Akito went back to staring out the window.
I glanced at my watch. 7:15 am. Nabiki and my father would be awake by this time. But there was nothing anyone could do. The bus was already on its way. When we had been on the road for a few more minutes, I sat up and brought my knees to the cushioned seat, staring back over the red backing. I stared through the back window of the bus at the bus-stop shed, which was quickly becoming smaller. The bus went slightly downhill, and the shed disappeared completely.
"Nervous?" Akito asked, and his head whipped around to look at me. There was definitely something weird about this kid. He hadn't even moved his thin neck, as far as I could see. I shook my head. No. "Why are you still sitting beside me?"
"Is there a problem?" I asked hotly.
"Toll money," he said, abruptly changing topics. Another bead of sweat rolled down my back.
"Toll money," he repeated. "You got to pay to ride to Kyoto. I'm the toll collector, remember?"
If the fact that I didn't believe him showed on my face, he must have seen it. because he reached for an ID in his pants pocket. It showed his face, and the name of the bus, verification number, the name of his father. In bold yellow letters there was the print: 'TOLL-COLLECTOR, BUS 14D'
Grudgingly, I took the wallet out of my jacket sleeve and paid him. I half- expected him to stand up and go to the old man, who was the only other passenger on the bus, and ask for the old man's toll fee. But he didn't. He just let out his breath and continued to stare out the window.
Lost in my own thoughts, I began to think about Ranma. He always insulted me mercilessly, as if I had no feelings whatsoever. Always, I acted like I didn't care, but the truth was that even if his snide remarks were bad enough, what hurt most was the fact that I could never be truthful about my feelings towards him. At this, I stopped myself. What was I thinking? I don't like that perverted maniac at all. Even if our parents had arranged our marriage, we hate each other! He's mean and selfish and-
"-you here?"
"Huh?" I sputtered, having been interrupted from my musing. Akito was looking at me expectantly, his green eyes gleaming with interest.
"So why are you running away from?"
"I'm not running away," I said to him in a matter-of-factly tone. "I'm just getting away for a while."
"Oh really." There it was! The sarcasm I was quickly coming to hate. "You know, you have a whole lot of unresolved issues."
"Now you're psychic?" I asked him, scoffing in spite of myself. Yes, I was stooping down to his level, but it was refreshing. After watching my moves around the Tendou dojo too long, I could act like a kid.
"Something like that," Akito said. "My mother is a witch. You know what, I've decided that I'm going to help you get over your unresolved issues."
I could only stare, stupefied, as the bus continued on it's way to Kyoto.
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