The Fight
Neither one of them had intended it to happen, but by the end, neither of them could deny or ignore it.
The whole thing had started out routine enough. Ryouga had dropped down into the street out of nowhere, calling Ranma out as a horrible, villainous cur that must be brought to justice, if by no one else than his hand. The two moved quickly to a more secluded location, where Ranma had laughed and teased and provoke until properly incited, and the engagement began.
Never sure when the first punch was thrown or by whom, the two faced off against each other, lashing out, dodging, ducking, kicking, screaming; at first, a cautious distance stretched between them, the blows careful, probing, unsure if the other had managed to accrue some kind of new strength or ability in the time it had been since last they danced. Gradually, the distance closed, until there was barely room for air between them. Their movements became notably more controlled, no extra energy spent, and the lightning flashing in their eyes matched the speed and fury of their strikes. It was almost primal, a fight based on instincts. Their intense focus was only on each other, and it was if the world only extended as far as each other.
It was somewhere in the midst of this that everything broke down. During a particularly close dodge, they were nose to nose, and then they were on each other. Limbs scrambled for purchase as lips, tongue, and teeth met frantically. They bucked desperately against each other, struggling for dominance, and even in their passion they were just as violent as they had been when trading blows.
Longer than forever and shorter than never this new battle raged between them, until they finally snapped back to reality with an angry yank. Ranma stared shell-shocked up at Ryouga, who returned the look in kind, chests heaving against each other, limbs tangled in a snare, ripped clothes barely hanging onto their bodies. Minutes stretched between them before Ryouga finally shoved himself up, regarding Ranma with an expression akin to horror. But before the thought of running could fully lodge itself in his brain, Ranma had wrapped steel-strong fingers around his wrist, holding him securely in place.
More silence, a conversation without words, fear, confusion, anger, worry, remorse, all flying back and forth until Ranma used the hand holding onto Ryouga to drag himself upright, their eyes never leaving the each others. Giving a slight pull, Ranma led Ryouga back to the street where he'd dropped his pack, only letting go to allow Ryouga to pull the bag up onto his shoulders. Staring off into the park they'd just emerged from, Ranma had the passing thought that hatred did mysterious things to the human mind, like completely blinding one to a deep, profound connection that once realized felt so right he couldn't imagine it never being there to begin with.
But then Ryouga was calling his name, giving a curious little incline of his head, and Ranma just shrugged and walked over to the other man, removin the red umbrella out of his right hand so that he could grasp Ryouga's hand and steer him safely in the direction of home.
SnM: So, this particular author's note can be ignored by most readers:
Tama Saga-I know you haunt this section of . I am not the kind of person who will say don't critisize me, for I know I am far from perfect. However, if I get one review from you that is pure flame, that is not constructive in any way, I will report you to the admins. I will not stand for senseless bullying.
Everyone else, please r&r. Even if you didn't like something. I don't know what to fix if no one tells me
