**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Ranma ½ or it's characters, so don't sue me. You wouldn't get anything... I have no money! ^_~**
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Sing a Nightingale's Song
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The cars drive by, as the evening rush hour fades with the daylight. The noise made by the rushing
wind from the cars gets less and less as the night goes on, until a passing car is a rare occurrence.
All of the neon lights of the city gleam like usual, but tonight they hold a certain kind of sparkle,
like the promise of things to come. Crowds on the sidewalks thin and disperse, leaving only
forgotten scraps of paper and lonely tatters of clothing blowing sporadically down the off-white
cement to show that they had ever been there. One by one the shops and restaurants close,
because they have no more customers to serve. The streets are empty now, the life on them gone
as fast as the daylight goes.
Ukyo glanced behind once, to make sure no one was following her. She wasn't sure what she
expected to find when she arrived, and felt rather foolish, but she was going all the same. The
note, something Ukyo would never have followed had circumstances been different, was folded
up neatly in her pocket. It might have been a challenge, but Ukyo thought that it didn't have the
same feel as a letter of challenge. She pulled the paper out of her pocket in order to read it again,
although she'd poured over it enough times to know it by heart. "Meet me at the bridge at 11:00
tonight. I want to talk to you." Ukyo's heart sped up a few beats when she considered for the
millionth time just what this person might want to talk about. She never once thought that a girl
might have sent it to her; the handwriting was very masculine. Usually, Ukyo would have chalked
this up to Tsubasa Kurenai, or possibly Konatsu, but Konatsu had long since given up on her and
Ukyo and hadn't heard from Tsubasa in over two years.
Ukyo stopped walking for a moment. Just what do I think I'm doing? Ukyo wondered, the echoes
of her footsteps fading in the silence of the near-deserted street. It wasn't every day that she
wandered off in the middle of the night, following some random message. What if it was all just a
dumb prank, and some jackass was sniggering at her from the shadows? And yet . . . and yet, she
wanted to believe the note. It had been three years since Akane and Ranma had finally gotten
married, and Ukyo wanted above all else to find someone she could just . . . talk to. She didn't
necessarily want romance of any kind-- no, she'd had quite enough of that.
She felt a few, lonely drops of water patter onto her arms, causing the bare skin to prickle with
goose-bumps. She glanced up at the sky, and saw that clouds were starting to cover the familiar
constellations of stars. The rain began to come down harder, landing on her eyelashes and giving
the neon lights and street lamps tiny, four-pointed halos of light. Soon, the streets were slick with
water, and were quickly emptied of the few people still outside at this time of night. Ukyo began
to walk quietly towards the bridge again.
Fidgeting slightly with the handle of his red, bamboo umbrella, Ryoga stood leaning against the
handrails of the bridge and looking at the distorted reflection of the moon on the ripples of the
water. He still hadn't quite figured out what he was doing there-- he usually didn't do what
mysterious notes told him to do; not that he'd ever gotten mysterious notes before. As another
rain cloud began to creep its way across the silver crescent of the moon, he carefully uncrumpled
the piece of paper which he'd folded, unfolded, and refolded again out of nervousness so many
times that the ink was starting to fade. "Meet me on the bridge tonight, at 11:00. I have to see
you, alone." The letter was written in a rounded, obviously feminine hand and every time Ryoga
read it, his heart began to pound. It wasn't Akane's handwriting . . . he knew her writing by heart,
and this wasn't it. He had only briefly entertained the hope that she actually had sent him the note;
he'd given up hope of her long ago, even before she and Ranma had gotten married. Ryoga could
see that they loved each other. He didn't know exactly what he hoped to find tonight. Even three
years since he'd lost Akane to Ranma, he still wasn't quite ready to deal with the opposite sex.
Not that he was ever ready.
Ryoga had gotten a taxi driver to lead him to the bridge, and had arrived a full ten minutes early.
Now, though, it felt like an eternity had passed and he was beginning to think it was all some sort
of prank and that someone was laughing at his expense right now. Just before he turned to walk
away, his finely tuned martial artist's instincts told him to take one last glance behind him. He did,
and spotted a slender, shadowy figure waiting hesitantly at the edge of the bridge.
Ukyo, so lost in her own thoughts, hadn't noticed that she'd reached the bridge. A slight sound,
perhaps that of a light footstep, forced her to look up in surprise. Before her stood a figure that
was visible enough that she could tell that it was male, and nothing more. He said nothing, and
Ukyo didn't feel inclined to speak either. Nothing broke the silence except the sound of the rain
dancing off of the umbrella the man was holding. Almost involuntarily, Ukyo took a few steps
forward, her heart in her throat. Soon, she was close enough to see his face . . .
Ukyo blinked. "R-Ryoga? You . . ."
Ryoga blinked owlishly back at her. ". . . Ukyo? Did you . . ."
Ukyo fought to regain her breath. All this time...? All this time that I've been yearning for
Ranma, Ryoga had been thinking about me? Ukyo's mouth moved, but she had to try several
times to speak. "I . . . you want to talk?" As soon as the words left her lips, Ukyo mentally cursed
herself for sounding so stupid.
Ryoga recovered fairly quickly from the surprise of seeing Ukyo. He'd been expecting . . . well,
he hadn't been expecting Ukyo. But perhaps, this was what he wanted after all. "Yeah, s-s-sure."
Ryoga moved the umbrella over, to make room for Ukyo beneath it.
She came over to stand next to him at the hand rail of the bridge. Despite the agreement to
converse, neither said anything. They both looked out across the waters, at the reflection of the
moon, which was now a murky light behind the clouds. Just before the silence began to get
uncomfortable, the silvery call of a bird rang across the water. A nightingale . . . the messenger of
love? Ukyo glanced at Ryoga, to see if he recognized the implications, and saw even through the
darkness that he was blushing furiously.
"I didn't know that nightingales lived around here," Ryoga said to break the silence. He tried not
to, but he couldn't keep from glancing at Ukyo out of the corner of his eye. With a start, he
realized that Ukyo was really very pretty-- and that realization made him blush that much more.
He hoped that the darkness was enough to hide the flush on his face. He'd never thought of her
that way before; after all, this was Ucchan, and she was always like one of the guys. But tonight .
. . tonight, her hair was free and unbound, not in her usual low ponytail, and damp strands were
curling around her delicate face. Her usual chef's costume accentuated her slim figure, another
thing that Ryoga had never noticed before. She wasn't wearing her bandolier of throwing spatulas,
nor was her battle spatula strapped to her back, and the moonlight was reflecting back at him out
of her soft, hazel eyes. Suddenly, Ryoga became aware of how close she was standing to him, in
order to get underneath the umbrella, and he thought that she must be able to hear his heart
pounding.
"I like nightingales," Ukyo said quietly, looking straight down at the slow ripples of the water
beneath the bridge, and at her murky, distorted reflection. The moon re-emerged from behind the
clouds, and Ukyo could see the reflection of herself and Ryoga much clearer. "I love their song.
But you're right, I don't think you usually find them around here, especially not when it's raining
like this." Ukyo focused harder on Ryoga's reflection, and again her heart leapt into her throat.
She realized just how enchanting he looked, with the moonlight glinting off his fangs and the
breeze ruffling the midnight-black hair bound by the black-on-yellow bandanna, and Ukyo was
fascinated. Perhaps romance isn't the worst thing that could happen to me right now, after all . .
.Still staring at his reflection, she saw him watching her surreptitiously out of the corner of his
eye. Surprised that he should be watching her, she looked away from the waters and up at him.
Ryoga glanced at Ukyo again, this time catching her doing the same towards him. He saw a flush
rise to her cheeks, just as he could feel on his own. ". . . ano, Ukyo . . ." he stammered, unable to
shape his thoughts into the words he was trying to say.
Suddenly Ukyo smiled shyly, a smile that lit up her face far better than the pale moonlight. "Hey,
Ryo-chan . . . do you want to come to the restaurant for some okonomiyaki?"
Ryoga suddenly found out that the young okonomiyaki chef's smiles were contagious, and
nodded. "Sure, that sounds great."
And they turned back towards Nerima and began to walk back to the restaurant through the rain,
side by side under the umbrella, the nightingale trilling behind them.
Ranma lowered his hands from his lips, smiling smugly after the couple as they walked away.
Then he glanced at Akane to see if she was impressed.
She was. "Ranma, where did you learn to imitate birds so well?" She looked beautiful, Ranma
thought, despite the twigs and leaves in her hair from the bush they were hiding under, and the
mud smeared on her chin, and the rivulets of rainwater dripping from her dark hair.
"It makes a good signal, if you need to communicate with someone without anyone else
knowing." Ranma grinned at her. "It just seemed like the perfect thing to enhance the mood."
Akane rolled her eyes, not liking the smug attitude one bit. "Don't you think that was laying it on
a bit thick, though? Talk about cliche!"
Ranma's grin turned to a scowl. "They didn't question it, did they? They're the ones who count.
Besides, just what did you put in that note to Ryoga? He was blushing and stammering like a
maniac!"
Akane glared right back. "Shut up! It got him here, didn't it?" she snapped, her fingers itching to
close around the handle of a mallet.
Ranma looked like he was about to make another angry retort, when he suddenly pulled her close
to him, causing her to stifle a yelp of surprise. "I love you, Akane Saotome, I really do," he
breathed into her hair, reveling in this new but terribly effective way to avoid arguments before
they could result in a beating.
Akane recovered after a few moments and looked up into her husband's face, smiling. "I should
hope so, you big jerk."
Ranma didn't notice the scratching of the bushes around them, nor did he care about the rain
dripping into his eyes. "You . . . are so uncute . . ."
The soft, sibilant sounds of lovers' voices fade into the darkness, leaving only the faint sounds of
the crickets chirping, the breeze stirring the leaves and grass, and the soft pattering of the rain
against the ground. The rainwater mingles with the earth, trickling into the gullies, valleys, and
pools of the land, while dream-swept clouds race across the face of the silvery thumbnail that is
the moon. In the city, the lights twinkle and go out, one by one, until everything is covered by a
soft, velvety blackness and the only light comes from the patches of glittering stars.
Somewhere, softly at first but with growing fervor, a nightingale begins to sing. Its music sounds
like silvery moonscapes, forgotten scraps of paper, and the promise of things to come.