I do not own Ranma ½, rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi and whatever
companies publishing her work around the world.
A.N. After reading some complains about my editing, I tried to change it a little bit. It was hard and I really don't know if I got it right. Paragraphs might have been a little bit too big for everyone else to digest, but they had an internal coherence (or at least I tried that they had some resemblance to coherence). I cannot just cut them without losing the meaning of the text. I really didn't know about anonymous reviews, I just didn't check before I sent this to ffnet. This is my first time, I hope I didn't mess up too much. C&C welcome, by the way, but, please, no more complaining about paragraphs, I promise I will keep that in mind for the future.
CHAPTER 1. BACK TO NORMAL LIFE (if normal life exists, that is)
She sat on her bed, staring at the window, the wedding dress on the floor. She would like to be angry, no, better furious, and tear it apart, she would like to slap Ukyo, she had considered her a friend and now this... She would like to mope the floor with Shampoo's mane. As for Kodachi, perhaps a nice play of throwing daggers at her while having her roped to a russian rulette would be enough. It would have been her wedding, damn them all!!! And the worst of all, when she had confronted Ranma about what he said (no, what she thought he said), he denied it. She had gone along with the wedding plan just because she was sure he loved her... She felt a part of her had died that day. After ranting in her room for hours she crawled to bed and tried to sleep.
Akane woke up and got out of bed reluctantly. I don't think I can face my friends at school.... She dragged herself to the furo and spent as much time as she could in the hot water, not that it relaxed her in any case. She put on her clothes and watched her reflection on the mirror. She looked terrible, sadness crying loudly in her eyes for anyone to see. She tried to fake a smile Who would think acting classes would come up handy?.
She sat by the table and went through breakfast, not saying a word, eating slowly. Nabiki was long gone. She should be angry at her, for inviting all her rivals, but she had no energy. Ranma was wolfing down his food as usual, but she didn't care to scowl at him for his manners. What was the use of it? She wore her smile through school, even when she had to endure some of her friends whispering alternatively about how lucky or unlucky she was, not having character enough to make her fiancée behave... She wanted to laugh at the irony of this one. What else could she do? Shoot him down?
Ukyo was nowhere in sight. Just fine. She didn't think she could stand to see her right now without trying to maim her, badly. At least, she was more or less in her league. Pity she couldn't do the same about Shampoo. That shameless hussy had throwned herself at Ranma that very morning on their way to school. She had punted them to somewhere near the Tokyo Tower, Mousse following Shampoo as always, pledging his eternal love to her. Such a shame. Poor boy.
After school, she walked to her room and changed into her gi, perhaps some workout would do her good. She did her stretches and faced the practice dummy, just looking at it, as if it was the first time she ever saw it. She remembered working with her father on her forms when she was a little child, then her training on her own as she grew older. She arched her arm backwards as if preparing a punch and closed her hand in a fist and played the movement in slow motion. She barely touched the wooden post and stopped. Then it dawned on her. What was the use of hitting and destroying dummies? They didn't move, they didn't counter or block or dodge her attacks. What could she learn from them? Nothing. It was useless, she was useless, she had been doing this for years, since her mother died, but it took her nowhere. She had been fighting boys at high school, but most lacked training in martial arts. What rush could one get from fighting unskilled hormone-driven boys? She sat by the wall, her hands holding her head and cried.
She had spent most of the evening at the dojo. What could she do? The only people she could ask for sparring where Natsume and Kurumi, currently unavailable; Ryoga, more or less on the same chords, um, that's all. She would ask Ranma, but she knew it was just as useless as it was before. Boh, what could she lose, a little more pride? Not that she had much left, anyway.
Ranma had not arrived yet. She didn't bother to look for him, he might be thanking his other fiancés for wrecking the wedding and she didn't need to see that. (Actually, he was running from a crazed Kodachi, swirling her ribbon at him and springing black rose petals on her way...).
The one thing that did change was that Ranma took to walk by her side on their way to school. Akane didn't know what to make of it. Did he do it because he genuinely cared for her or he thought so little of her skills to defend herself against anyone? The first day she had been flattered about that, but the second and the third and then on she felt asfixiated. Ranma was hovering over her as a mother did over a little child, glaring menacingly at anyone who dared to come too near to her. Frankly, it was getting on her nerves.
(The fact is that he kept guard on her most part of the day, never letting her out his sight. The memory of Phoenix mountain was still too fresh on his mind...).
She sighed. She knew most girls would swoon over such a protective guy, but dammit! She was a martial artist... at least, she wanted to be one, if she ever found a way to get a good training. She wanted to stand on her own... why did nobody understand that? She managed to skip Ranma when going home and headed for the park. She sat on a bench, trying to fight back on tears, until it was too much for her and cried silently, her hands tighted into fists, till her knuckles were white and she drew blood. The physical pain sort of woke her up. A feeling of tiredness washed her soul. I need a change...
(On with several scenes, Akane asking Ranma to coach her, the pig-tailed martial artist refusing, Ranma hovering over Akane, her not knowing he's around... Kasumi and Nodoka trying to make a good traditional wife out of her...)
She didn't know how they managed to convince her to give a new try. Here it was, a whole Saturday afternoon spent trying to cook something with at least some resemblance to edible, all to nothing. No matter how hard she tried, she never got it right, oh well, except for the curry, but you cannot live on curry alone, can you? She felt drained. She had put so much effort, to no avail and just to show that perhaps she was maturing, she could have accepted Ranma refusing to eat her cooking, but did he have to insult her as well?
She sat on her bed, clutching her pillow and staring through the window, too tired even to cry. What was the use? An air of despair surrounded her. Had she known how to control her chi, she could have shot a Perfect Shi Shi Houko Dan, no kiddin'. She felt sorry for Kasumi, who tried her best to teach her, even if she got on her nerves (Kasumi's human, you know). Good, old Kasumi, always trying to teach me something, too bad I'm such a klutz. Her head was resting on her knees. So what do I do now? I may as well give up.... She frowned. She was well known for being stubborn, a person who never gave up and now... she was admitting defeat? Yes, a stupid, bitter defeat. What are take-outs for, anyways? Well, nobody is perfect.
Ok, conceed that, but anybody could be good at something at any point. What was she good at? Sports, right, but Ranma was so much better that her in any of them... well, except for skating, that is, but she was sure that given enough time (a week or two?), he would be a master. Is there anything left that she could do and do it right? Perhaps, her studies, that was the only thing that kept her going on... since she couldn't count either on martial arts... but she would not give up on this, not yet. Martial Arts ran in her family, in her own blood, she would be damned in she stopped practicing. She would find a way, oh yes, she would. Finally, the tears made their way out.
A.N. After reading some complains about my editing, I tried to change it a little bit. It was hard and I really don't know if I got it right. Paragraphs might have been a little bit too big for everyone else to digest, but they had an internal coherence (or at least I tried that they had some resemblance to coherence). I cannot just cut them without losing the meaning of the text. I really didn't know about anonymous reviews, I just didn't check before I sent this to ffnet. This is my first time, I hope I didn't mess up too much. C&C welcome, by the way, but, please, no more complaining about paragraphs, I promise I will keep that in mind for the future.
CHAPTER 1. BACK TO NORMAL LIFE (if normal life exists, that is)
She sat on her bed, staring at the window, the wedding dress on the floor. She would like to be angry, no, better furious, and tear it apart, she would like to slap Ukyo, she had considered her a friend and now this... She would like to mope the floor with Shampoo's mane. As for Kodachi, perhaps a nice play of throwing daggers at her while having her roped to a russian rulette would be enough. It would have been her wedding, damn them all!!! And the worst of all, when she had confronted Ranma about what he said (no, what she thought he said), he denied it. She had gone along with the wedding plan just because she was sure he loved her... She felt a part of her had died that day. After ranting in her room for hours she crawled to bed and tried to sleep.
Akane woke up and got out of bed reluctantly. I don't think I can face my friends at school.... She dragged herself to the furo and spent as much time as she could in the hot water, not that it relaxed her in any case. She put on her clothes and watched her reflection on the mirror. She looked terrible, sadness crying loudly in her eyes for anyone to see. She tried to fake a smile Who would think acting classes would come up handy?.
She sat by the table and went through breakfast, not saying a word, eating slowly. Nabiki was long gone. She should be angry at her, for inviting all her rivals, but she had no energy. Ranma was wolfing down his food as usual, but she didn't care to scowl at him for his manners. What was the use of it? She wore her smile through school, even when she had to endure some of her friends whispering alternatively about how lucky or unlucky she was, not having character enough to make her fiancée behave... She wanted to laugh at the irony of this one. What else could she do? Shoot him down?
Ukyo was nowhere in sight. Just fine. She didn't think she could stand to see her right now without trying to maim her, badly. At least, she was more or less in her league. Pity she couldn't do the same about Shampoo. That shameless hussy had throwned herself at Ranma that very morning on their way to school. She had punted them to somewhere near the Tokyo Tower, Mousse following Shampoo as always, pledging his eternal love to her. Such a shame. Poor boy.
After school, she walked to her room and changed into her gi, perhaps some workout would do her good. She did her stretches and faced the practice dummy, just looking at it, as if it was the first time she ever saw it. She remembered working with her father on her forms when she was a little child, then her training on her own as she grew older. She arched her arm backwards as if preparing a punch and closed her hand in a fist and played the movement in slow motion. She barely touched the wooden post and stopped. Then it dawned on her. What was the use of hitting and destroying dummies? They didn't move, they didn't counter or block or dodge her attacks. What could she learn from them? Nothing. It was useless, she was useless, she had been doing this for years, since her mother died, but it took her nowhere. She had been fighting boys at high school, but most lacked training in martial arts. What rush could one get from fighting unskilled hormone-driven boys? She sat by the wall, her hands holding her head and cried.
She had spent most of the evening at the dojo. What could she do? The only people she could ask for sparring where Natsume and Kurumi, currently unavailable; Ryoga, more or less on the same chords, um, that's all. She would ask Ranma, but she knew it was just as useless as it was before. Boh, what could she lose, a little more pride? Not that she had much left, anyway.
Ranma had not arrived yet. She didn't bother to look for him, he might be thanking his other fiancés for wrecking the wedding and she didn't need to see that. (Actually, he was running from a crazed Kodachi, swirling her ribbon at him and springing black rose petals on her way...).
The one thing that did change was that Ranma took to walk by her side on their way to school. Akane didn't know what to make of it. Did he do it because he genuinely cared for her or he thought so little of her skills to defend herself against anyone? The first day she had been flattered about that, but the second and the third and then on she felt asfixiated. Ranma was hovering over her as a mother did over a little child, glaring menacingly at anyone who dared to come too near to her. Frankly, it was getting on her nerves.
(The fact is that he kept guard on her most part of the day, never letting her out his sight. The memory of Phoenix mountain was still too fresh on his mind...).
She sighed. She knew most girls would swoon over such a protective guy, but dammit! She was a martial artist... at least, she wanted to be one, if she ever found a way to get a good training. She wanted to stand on her own... why did nobody understand that? She managed to skip Ranma when going home and headed for the park. She sat on a bench, trying to fight back on tears, until it was too much for her and cried silently, her hands tighted into fists, till her knuckles were white and she drew blood. The physical pain sort of woke her up. A feeling of tiredness washed her soul. I need a change...
(On with several scenes, Akane asking Ranma to coach her, the pig-tailed martial artist refusing, Ranma hovering over Akane, her not knowing he's around... Kasumi and Nodoka trying to make a good traditional wife out of her...)
She didn't know how they managed to convince her to give a new try. Here it was, a whole Saturday afternoon spent trying to cook something with at least some resemblance to edible, all to nothing. No matter how hard she tried, she never got it right, oh well, except for the curry, but you cannot live on curry alone, can you? She felt drained. She had put so much effort, to no avail and just to show that perhaps she was maturing, she could have accepted Ranma refusing to eat her cooking, but did he have to insult her as well?
She sat on her bed, clutching her pillow and staring through the window, too tired even to cry. What was the use? An air of despair surrounded her. Had she known how to control her chi, she could have shot a Perfect Shi Shi Houko Dan, no kiddin'. She felt sorry for Kasumi, who tried her best to teach her, even if she got on her nerves (Kasumi's human, you know). Good, old Kasumi, always trying to teach me something, too bad I'm such a klutz. Her head was resting on her knees. So what do I do now? I may as well give up.... She frowned. She was well known for being stubborn, a person who never gave up and now... she was admitting defeat? Yes, a stupid, bitter defeat. What are take-outs for, anyways? Well, nobody is perfect.
Ok, conceed that, but anybody could be good at something at any point. What was she good at? Sports, right, but Ranma was so much better that her in any of them... well, except for skating, that is, but she was sure that given enough time (a week or two?), he would be a master. Is there anything left that she could do and do it right? Perhaps, her studies, that was the only thing that kept her going on... since she couldn't count either on martial arts... but she would not give up on this, not yet. Martial Arts ran in her family, in her own blood, she would be damned in she stopped practicing. She would find a way, oh yes, she would. Finally, the tears made their way out.