The Peculiarity Of Their Acquaintance
By Llett
"Ranma, are you listening?"
He nodded.
"Who was the first Prime-Minister of Japan?"
"I dunn'o"
"You seriously don't know?"
"I dunn'o"
"Are you even paying attention?"
"To what?"
Akane Tendo ran her fingers through her hair in frustration and let out a harsh sigh, "Ranma."
The young teenage boy was staring out of her bedroom window at the late evening sky; his jet-black pig tail was all that was facing her. His chin was resting comfortably against his leg, which was propped up against the chair. He was clearly quite distracted.
"Look." she turned her attention back to the papers on her desk, sprawled out in a messy pile. "You could at least give me the decency of your attention."
He didn't look at her, instead continuing to gaze out into the nothingness. "But it's so boring Akane."
"I don't care Ranma." She pulled on his shoulder, trying to get him to turn and face her, "You have to understand this stuff to pass. It isn't an option, alright? You have to learn it."
His head turn only slightly, one eye crossing her glance, "I don't see the point."
"Gah!" She threw her hands into the air in a dramatic gesture, "Why are you being so frustrating?"
The truth was that Akane was doing her fiancé a massive favor. A favor she even denied often enough to her own best friends. She was tutoring him. It was partly because her father and his mother had requested her too. Well, more begged her too.
"His marks are simply dreadful." Her father had quoted.
"It's almost like he doesn't even pay an ounce of attention in class." His mother added.
"He doesn't." she had answered simply. "He sleeps."
This was true. Academics had never truly been Ranma Saotome's 'strong' point. It wasn't so much that he despised going to school, to contrary, he occasionally enjoyed it, but he lacked the desire or craving to actually learn.
He wasn't dumb. Far from it, he showed natural ability. But he was so utterly content to specialize in one thing and one thing only: The martial arts.
This was of course much to chagrin of his teachers, his parents and his poor fiancée – one of.
"I'm bored Akane, can we do something else?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because. You need to understand this information, so you can pass."
"What's the big deal anyways?" he turned on his chair, finally facing her front on, slight confusion across his face. "Its only school."
She stared at him perplexed. Bewildered. Slightly aggravated.
"Its not 'only' school you idiot." She started, immediately noticing the ever so subtle flinch across his eyes after the words left her mouth, but her brain did not pause "It's incredibly important to your future."
"… As a martial artist?" his eye-brow raised.
"Yes." She nodded her head, her eyes closed.
"No it isn't."
"Yes." She nodded again, growing more slightly aggravated with each passing moment, "It is."
"It isn't." He repeated himself causally.
There was a silence. Their eyes met. It was an unspoken battle. A skirmish expressed through years of familiarity and fluency.
Akane and Ranma knew more about each other then either one of them would ever probably admit.
He knew that she liked a little bit of salt on her watermelon. That she would wear yellow on days she was feeling a slightly down. That she enjoyed it when he would comment on the way she styled her hair. He had realized during their time together that she felt inferior to her older sisters Kasumi and Nabiki. And that that she actually enjoyed her father's over-protective nature. But alas, he wasn't sure about everything.
She knew that he would always eat the food she prepared for him, eventually. That if she commented positively on what he was wearing; she was likely to see the same outfit again by the end of the week. That he got nervous when she talked about his mother. She had realized rather quickly that he made obvious and dramatic attempts to get her attention when she tried to ignore him. That he rarely apologized, but when he did, he actually meant it. But she too wasn't sure about everything.
"Just forget about it then." She finally sighed, turning her attention back towards her desk. Petite hands reached out and collected the loose papers into a pile.
"Don't say it like that." His voice was suddenly noticeably softer.
She turned her head towards him, "Pardon?"
"Don't say it like you're disappointed or something."
"I can say it however I like, Ranma."
"And I'm not an idiot." His eyes narrowed, "Don't call me one."
"Then don't act like one."
"Stop talking to me like this." His voice was gaining intensity, slight aggression.
"Stop telling me how to act."
His fingers reached out in front of his face, grabbing a piece of his fringe in his grip, pulling down on it. "Look. Akane." There was an audible sigh. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize to me Ranma."
"I can if I want to." He stood off the chair with partial grace. "I just don't like studying. You know this. Hell, I wouldn't have even tried if anyone other then you had asked me." He started to walk past her, towards the door.
Her lips parted, her head tipped to the left. "You only agreed because it was me who asked?"
"Course." He kept moving, albeit slowly.
"Why?"
Ranma turned to face her, his hands had been pushed into his track-suit pockets. "Because you asked me, 'tis why."
"I don't understand."
He laughed somewhat half-heartily with a shrug of his shoulders. "Neither do I."
Their eyes met again. But this time there wasn't an unspoken battle of antagonism. No; it was something different between them, very different and yet not uncommon.
Ranma knew his favourite fiancée quite well.
He knew that without her, he would not be the person he was today. He generally agreed that this was a positive thing. He had fears like every other teenager: fears of rejection, fears of separation. He also had fears unlike every other teenage: fears of cats, of turning into a girl, even fears of fighting the Demi-God's of the world in increasing complicated and more often then not ridiculous situations. He often wondered if Akane shared his fears, indeed, did she fear for him? It was a question that he would never ask – it was unbecoming of his character, his honor as a Saotome man wouldn't allow it. Though much can probably be said about this so called 'character' of a Saotome man.
And what of the 'character' of a Tendo woman? Akane had been very young and very small when her mother had passed on. Her older sisters had done a good job raising her, but they had not taught her what a 'girl' should be. It can be argued that they perhaps themselves didn't know, if the radical differences between the two of them are of any solid indication. Kasumi had inspired within Akane a desire to treasure those closest to her heart, while Nabiki had taught her to be wary, to be alert- to always be strong. It had created a duel nature, a perplexing paradox, in the youngest Tendo.
But perhaps their greatest lessons about themselves had come from their interactions with each other.
Two years is a long time to live with someone, to be engaged. The two had shared many moments like this very one over the two years – this attempted linking of minds, of soul – of a longing within themselves that neither could truly admit, nor deny.
And so her deep brown eyes stared into his striking blue. As they had many times before.
"If I asked you to stay." She whispered, "Would you do it just because I asked?"
Ranma blinked. He took in a breath, "Akane." He took a step closer to her now, "You don't have to ask."
"Please stay Ranma."
He smiled, she smiled in return.
"I'm not doing any more study though."
"What do you want to do then?"
He shrugged with a chuckle, "Just stay."
Akane looked down at her floral carpeted floor, her finger clutching her yellow pajama top in a grasp, "I'm kinda feeling a little tired."
"Yeah." He shuffled underfoot. "Do you want sit down?" he eyes indicated towards her bed and then back towards her.
There was a flash of embarrassment across her face.
He suddenly blushed as he recognized his own naive implications, "To talk is all!" he quickly stammered out.
Her smile grew slightly bigger across her face. "Idiot."
"Stop calling me that."
Akane sat down with a huff on her well kept covers across her mattress, and licked her upper lip. She looked across at him – he was fidgeting. "Come on then." She motioned gently.
Ranma moved with trepidation.
He left a gap between them as he sat down with a soft thud. It wasn't large, but clearly a deliberate action on his behalf.
"It's kinda cold isnt it?" he said, breaking the tension with literally the first thing that crossed his mind.
She rolled her eyes, "Well it is winter, you'd kind of expect it to be."
"Hey." He turned his head to face her, "Don't use that tone with me."
"Why?" she smiled and tipped her head slightly to the left, "It's the tone I always use with you. I call it my 'Ranma' tone. I think it fits you perfectly."
"Well I don't like it."
"Well I think you're an idiot."
His eyes flashed anger, annoyance, and mischievousness. "Call me that again and ill make you regret it."
She closed her eyes for a moment, let out a slight sigh, "Idiot."
It was a quick movement, slightly awkward, and indeed very affectionate. The small gap between them instantly closed as he hands leant out and pushed her down by with childish intent. The action caused her to fall down backwards, with her head landing on her pillow. He leant over her, his torso crossing her waist, his hands being placed on either side of her shoulders.
"Stop saying it." He whispered with only minor irritation.
"Make me." She replied.
He could feel her breath. It was searing as it crashed against his face, which was but mere inches from hers. "You're completely impossible."
"… and you're an id-"
Ultimately that's all of the word she managed to complete before his lips fell upon hers. There was a restrained passion in the kiss, but her hands reached up to cup his cheeks and pull him even closer towards her. His body moved to better position itself, hers followed suit, being led by his action. They lay together on her bed; he remained peering over her while still their lips remained interlocked and their eyes ever so tightly closed.
The room warmed.
They parted.
Their gazes met again and the unspoken conversation continued. The two youngsters truly weren't sure of 'everything' when it came to their very unconventional relationship - But some answers to certain questions were simply undeniable.
"You tasted like strawberries." He whispered softly.
A blush crossed her nose. "Really?"
"Yeah." He moved himself so that he was positioned close beside her, they shared the same pillow, he watched her intently. "I've never really like strawberries before."
"Ranma, you're such an idiot." She let an exasperated content sigh.
"I know."
Her head turned on the pillow to face him, to meet his eyes. "Hey." She whispered softly, "Can I have another one?"
He watched her with a softness, "Only because you asked."
They kissed again; it was more reserved this time but nonetheless charming. Their hands moved on their own to intertwine, squeezing. Two kisses was followed with a third, and a fourth.
Ranma knew his fiancée quite well. He knew that if she was biting her lower lip it meant she was nervous. He knew that if he didn't tell her 'goodnight' before departing for bed she would be agitated at him in the morning. But what he knew, more true then all the other things, was that he loved her.
And Akane knew her fiancé very well too. She knew that he could see through almost as well as she could see through him. She knew he didn't like it when people spoke down to him, or made him feel like a fool. She knew that he was striving for his father acceptance, and desperately trying to better himself for her father's approval. And she knew that, above all else, she loved him.
He returned to her bed after standing quickly to turn off the light. She had asked softly, with youthful innocence, for him to stay with by her till she fell asleep - Because he smelled good and she felt very tired. He had agreed with but a cheesy grin.
She tucked her head against his shoulder, her hair falling down his nape as their fingers reconnected. They both stared at the ceiling in harmony.
"Hey, Ranma?"
"Mmm?"
"Whose was the first Prime-Minister of Japan?"
"I dunno' Akane."
"Make sure you find out, ok?" She squeezed his hand tightly, "For me."
"Yeah." She felt him nod, "I will."
"Good." She closed her eyes, "I want my Ranma to be both strong and smart."
"Your Ranma?"
"Yes."
"Does that make you…" he turned his head towards her and his lips touched the crown of her hair. "… My Akane?"
"Only because you asked."