Poetic Partiality
A one-shot collection
by llett
Chapter 1
The problem with her inability to swim
Or
"Why does my fiancée keep trying to drown herself?"
#
There were two things wrong with today, Ranma reasoned.
One, it was a Tuesday. He hated Tuesdays. And two, it was very clearly the middle of winter and yet here he was wearing a bright red bikini and standing waist deep in freezing cold water.
"Akane." Ranma said as his hand reached up to brush a partially wet fringe from his eyes. "This has got to be the stupidest idea you've had all week." He let out a sigh, "And to be honest, that's really saying something."
"Shut up Ranma, I don't want to hear it." Her response was sharp, coming from just behind him.
"Honestly," he didn't turn, "I have no problem with you learning to swim, heck, I encourage it, but im growing tired of dragging you, flailing limbs and all, from the pool bottom. Why did you insist that I had to come with you?"
There was splash of water. "You promised."
His reply was quick. "Did not."
"Did too."
"Doesn't really seem like the sort of thing I would promise."
"Well you did." There was tap on his shoulder, beckoning him to turn around, "Now. Teach me how to swim."
He faced her, eye brow raised. She shot him a look, "Or else."
Ranma Saotome was the only child, and heir, to the Saotome school of 'Anything goes Martial arts,' which had, over the last two or so years gathered a tremendously infamous reputation across wider Japan and China. Ranma was also partially well known around his 'home' town of Nerima. Depending on who you asked he was either, 'that young man who is really, really good at cross dressing' or 'that creep who hangs out with that pig, cat, small lecherous troll and other undesirable individuals.' Needless to say, Ranma was exactly proud of either reputation.
He, who was a currently a she, having not yet rid himself of that undesirable consequence of cold water, had been kindly asked by his cute fiancée Akane Tendo, youngest daughter of the Tendo Martial Arts Academy, to aide in teaching her the finer points of aquatic skills.
He had refused.
There had been a fight.
Things were said.
Tears were had.
And a promise was made by him, to her, that he would, whenever she wanted, do his best to help her learn how to float and occasionally move her arms. Or swimming, as it is more commonly known.
"Why do we have to do this now Akane?" he asked with a whiney undertone.
"Because, summer will be here soon, and I want to be able to go to the beach like a normal person."
"But it's the middle of winter."
"I don't care Ranma."
"But-!" he was cut off by a look that was even icier then the water he standing in.
She was wearing a dark navy bikini that she had bought last spring, her hair, having been let to grow a little, was beginning to lick against the tips of her shoulders, delicately framing her cheeks. Her eyes shone with her tell tale intensity – clarity that she was determined to complete the task she had set out herself.
"So how do I do it, Ranma?" she asked with unbecoming kindness.
"Do what?"
"Swim."
Akane Tendo, bless her soul, was just not gifted with the swimming ability. She was good at many things, was undeniably beautiful in a most befitting way and had the brains and intelligence to match, but for the very life of her she could not keep herself above the water for more then one, possibly two swim strokes.
And did this ever frustrate her so.
None of her class-mates suffered from this disability. None of her rivals struggled with such a task. Her own sisters were undeniably gifted at the art. And yet, the ability eluded her.
"Well." The boy stared, pausing to contemplate his next words, "You just sort of… swim."
"You're an amazing help Ranma."
"What do you expect? If you want to learn to swim, go to a swimming trainer!"
She pouted. "I did."
"And?"
She pouted some more. "I still can't swim."
"Time well spent then, ay?" he shook his head, muttering something further under his breathe that she thankfully ignored.
She huffed and puffed like she always did, shot him the 'annoyed' look and moved on.
Ranma stood there, in his bright red bikini, waist deep in freezing water, shivering, wondering if Akane would give up this fruitless endeavor before he got frost-bite. He swore he could no longer feel his toes.
"Look." he sighed, "Its not hard." He started taking steps towards her; she was watching him, on guard.
"Just lay flat, put out your arms, and push" he was making the gestures as he neared her, now merely moments apart. The waves from his movements were crashing against her stomach.
"I know that." Her hand reached up out of the water to push some damp hair out of her eyes, "But it just doesn't work Ranma. Why doesn't it work?"
"I dunn'o" he shrugged, again, "Maybe you're just not built for swimming Akane."
"You calling me fat?"
'No."
"You sure?"
"Certain."
She didn't give up there and then though, much to his chagrin. She continued to master the art of not floating, of not moving elegantly in the water, the master of the 'sinks every damn time' school of swimming arts, as Ranma so kindly called it.
It was late afternoon now.
He cold no longer feel the lower part of his body.
"Where are you going?" her voice travelled across the pool.
"Home." He continued on his path towards the pool ladder, "I've had enough for today."
"But I still can't swim."
"I'm aware of that."
"You promised."
He turned, faced her, there was a distance between them. Their eyes met. "Sometimes you can't do everything you want." And with that, he pulled himself out of the water.
He had hoped his relatively 'smart' comment would have put an end to this nonsense, for the day at least. He had been wrong.
Spurred on perhaps by her inner most desire to master the art, or more likely the need to prove her fiancée wrong, Akane Tendo threw herself forward, a giant lunge, her body crashing into the water, her legs pushing forward, her arms reaching out with desperation to begin the swimming stroke.
He counted.
First stroke.
Second stroke.
Third stroke…
Sink.
Ranma waited a moment. She would surface, throw her hair back, let out a huge huff and likely throw him one hell of a dirty look. Same same, happened all day. But she didn't.
She didn't surface.
Ranma waited some more. And found himself almostgetting worried.
#
There was a cool breeze. It blew past her face and through her still damp hair. She stirred, one eye opening, taking in the surroundings as they flew by. She felt something strong pulling her close, an arm under her knees, another pressed firmly against her back. Her eyes took a moment to adjust.
He was carrying her, this she was sure of – for it happened more then enough times before. He had a look on his face of determination, she knew he wasn't happy.
Ranma leapt from roof top to roof top with relative ease. It was a skill he had been practicing for some time, and knew the roof's of Nerima better then he knew the streets. He was wet and cold, and he could feel the cold water bellowing down his neck. He wasn't happy.
She murmured something, catching his attention. Looking down, yet still never missing a step, he shook his head at her, mumbled something incomprehensible, returned his vision to the roofs ahead of him, and suddenly picked up speed.
#
It had been a few hours since her little 'swimming' practice. He was warmer now, feeling rather snug in his evening clothes, old shirt and baggy pants. The couch the he relaxed upon now was far more comfortable then that of the bone chilling pool water, and the television show he was watching, while far from the most interesting thing he had experienced, was dramatically less annoying then his young fiancée.
She had disappeared when they arrived home. He dropped her off through her bedroom window; even then then didn't share any words. At the time he was still rather peeved that he had to pull her semi-conscious frame out of the freezing water, rap her up in his towel, and dart her on home. He wasn't worried though – not one little bit. He hadn't become slightly concerned when he noticed that she hadn't returned to the water surface, and he hadn't felt any relief when he confirmed that she was still breathing.
The television buzzed, pulling his attention away from thoughts of the annoying girl and back to whatever it was he was enjoying.
Ranma's enjoyment was short lived however.
He felt her aura approaching. It was a 'sense' he knew well. Her scent hit him first, a fragrance of bath soap and mango shampoo. "Ranma?" her voice carried across the room.
"Akane." He answered, impassive. She moved to his couch, popping herself up on his opposite end, away from him. Ranma looked over at her, she had her legs pulled up against her chest, her chin resting on her knees and she was staring at the television, dressed now in her pjs.
She didn't say anything else. He didn't really feel like starting the conversation. So, for a while at least, the two of them just sat there together and watched the flashing images on the screen.
But she did eventually break the silence, after a moment or so.
"Thank you."
It came out simply, with no stumbling, mumbling or murmur. Straight forward and simple to understand. Just the way he liked it.
He took in a breath and turned to face her, "About time you thanked me."
"Geeze…" she shook her head and still look at him, "…You self-absorbed idiot."
"Least I didn't almost drown today."
She let out a huge huff, turned towards him, met his eyes – but a blush spread across her cheeks. "I said thank you."
"I know." He smiled, "I deserve your thanks."
"You're impossible." She stood up, shaking her head, angry aura, clearly annoyed. "Enjoy your show."
"You can stay." He replied quickly, almost as soon as she finished her sentence.
"And why would I want to do that?"
"You like this show."
"I know. But I don't like you."
"I saved your life."
"That's a little overdramatic."
"I could say the same about you…"
"Are you saying you want me to watch television with you?"
"All I am saying is that you can stay, if you want."
She again turned to him, her fringe was slightly wet from her bath, she truly hadn't been dry much today. Her eyes-brows were raised, her arms crossed against her chest, her upper lip pouting. A simple, mumbled "Fine."
And so she moved to sit right beside him, her back pressing up against his right arm, her head resting against his shoulder. She felt his hand grip, pulling her only slightly closer, but neither of them made eye contact. They just sat their, almost-possibly hugging, watching television. Together.
This was the first right thing to happen to him all day, Ranma reasoned.
#
End – Chapter 1
A/N: A collection of short romantic one-shots, story subscribe for notice of updates. Thank You for reading.