**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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To Change the Heart
.: fin:.
As he pushed his way through the undergrowth, Ryoga began to scowl. It was all Ranma's fault,
really, that he was lost again. Ranma had tricked him once again into thinking Akane actually
cared something for him, and then Ryoga had been so embarrassed when he found out it was all a
scam that he had to get out of there. But now that he was out, he had no idea where he was. He
couldn't have gotten far from Nerima, since he'd only been traveling a few hours. Come to think
of it, the terrain was looking awfully familiar . . . he knew this place, if only he could remember it.
It was on the edge of his mind, elusive like a butterfly, for an instant he thought he had
remembered. But somewhere in the jumbled confusion of his mind, the brief insight was lost again
and he sighed, looking down at the forest floor.
It wasn't unusual for him to be deluded into thinking Akane loved him; and it certainly wasn't the
first time Ranma had been the one to trick him, either. How can I be so stupid, Ryoga asked
himself bitterly as he fought his way through the brushes and forest creepers. How can I be so
stupid that I never even see it coming, time after time? How can I fall for the same exact trick
over and over? It wasn't hard to figure out. He was so pitiful, really, and so desperate to earn
even a smile from her lips, that he'd accept anything and no matter how much his mind told him
that it had to be a delusion, his heart wouldn't listen and would lead him into it every single time.
He wanted so desperately to earn her smile of approval, to have someone be there to wake up to
every morning. He wished that he could just have someone to cook for him every once and a
while and comfort him when he got like this, and flash him even the briefest smile of
companionship. If he could just have someone smile at him like that, he'd be fine. If only
someone would smile just like that . . .
No, that was wrong . . . where was he? That was a wrong turn, he knew it was a wrong turn! How
come the elementary school was so complicated? Only he wasn't in the school anymore. He
didn't even think he was in the town anymore. Was there a forest in the town? He didn't think so,
but couldn't remember. He was only nine years old; he'd been by himself before because his
parents were always disappearing somewhere, but he'd never been in such a dark, lonely forest
like this one before. He needed food; he'd been trying to find his way back to class for two days
now, but couldn't seem to do it. He wasn't sure at all where he was, and was really beginning to
be frightened as he wondered if he was ever going to find his home again. He was so hungry . . .
if he could just find something to eat, and a place to sleep . . .
Ryoga clenched his fists, his thoughts spiraling into that familiar pit of despair. It was almost
comforting in its familiarity; comforting only in the loosest sense of the word. The same
depression was so natural for him that he slid into it like it were an old shoe, and it had long since
become second nature to him. Anger was also familiar-- but anger tended to lead him into
trouble, while the despair only made him feel better in a strange, perverse kind of way.
And if he tightened his fists hard enough, the pain of his nails digging into his palms almost
overrode the pain of rejection . . .
He ached all over from traveling; it had been weeks since he'd last been in school. He had
managed to forage for food since he was strong for his young age, but he still felt the raw pinch
of hunger in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't the slightest idea where he was, but that didn't
really matter all that much. He missed his parents, but he hadn't seen his father in three months
and his mother in four, and he hadn't had a decently cooked meal in what seemed like ages.
His footing slipped-- the autumn leaves were damp, and hard to walk on. As he slid down the
bank of a rushing creek, trying to grab hold of the branches whipping by him in order to keep
himself from falling, he thought he smelled something, something that smelled like cooking . . .
and then he hit the bottom of the incline and his head struck a rock submerged in the cool, clear
water, and his vision went black.
There just wasn't much left to go for. If he went back to Nerima, assuming he could find his way
there in the first place, Ranma would just make a fool out of him again. If he didn't go back,
where else could he go? He didn't really have a home anymore, because although he was sure
he'd be welcome in his childhood house if he could find it, it wasn't home to him anymore. Home
was out in the raw wilderness, underneath the stars. Those stars made you feel so insignificant
when you looked at them, and yet they made you feel as if every tiny thing, every scrap of being
in you mattered, and there was some sort of grand purpose to it all.
He reached up and wiped a small trickle of blood off his brow. He wasn't quite sure how the cut
had gotten there-- perhaps a branch, or a thorn had caught his temple? He had only sensed it
because of the tickling sensation along his skin. The tiny spots of crimson on the tips of his fingers
fascinated his gaze for a few minutes. It was really very pretty, if you thought about it out of
context. Strange to think that same crimson came from a cut on your forehead. There was a kind
of surging sensation along with each heartbeat, and if the cut was deep, you could feel the pulse
of the blood flowing from it . . .
When he came to, he immediately began to wish he hadn't. His entire body ached, and he could
feel the strange, rhythmic pulsing in several places that told him that his slide down from the
upper bank of the creek had cost him the skin off his back and arms. His head hurt especially . . .
he kept getting dizzy when he tried to move, and the water rushing by his ears kept confusing him
and making him lose his train of thought. Eventually he gave up trying to move, his
consciousness drifting in and out, his vision swimming in front of him. He'd never hurt so much
as this before, and his head hurt so much . . .
Somewhere in-between a feverish dream and waking consciousness, he heard something
crunching down the bank on the dead autumn leaves towards him. The sound faded in and out,
and he couldn't think clearly. As his vision blacked again, he thought he caught just a hint . . .
he thought he could smell . . . that there might have been something . . .
Ryoga gritted his teeth. There was no hope for it. He was lost, he was hungry, and he was cold.
He was angry too, but that took second place to the despair rising in him. After a while, it was
hard to tell the difference between anger and depression, they could both be so strong. But he
was either going to explode with the energy, of he was going to have to release all his emotion.
He sank to his knees, the autumn leaves crackling beneath him and letting him catch a whiff of
their spicy scent, and he shut his eyes tightly. There was no one here he could hurt with the blast,
and no one around to care . . . on one would hear his explosion, so no one would notice if he put
just a little too much energy into the blast. The first thing that he had learned was that ki-energy
was absolutely vital to survival, and a ki-blast drained you so much that you had to be careful no
to let too much of that survival energy go, or it could be deadly. He'd been taught so well how to
put just the right amount of energy into it that it certainly wouldn't be too hard to put the wrong
amount into it this one, last time . . .
"Shi shi hokoudan!" Ryoga felt the core of energy in his being rip to pieces and flow out through
his fingertips, striking the ground. As he swayed and began to collapse from the shock, he noticed
the ground shaking and tilting oddly, and noticed clear sky in front of him . . . as if he'd been on
the edge of a cliff, and his explosion had triggered a rock slide down the vertical face . . .
Warm. Warm, soft, tired. He opened his eyes almost reluctantly because he was so comfortable,
but there was something nagging at him to wake up. At first he couldn't see anything at all, but
then blurry shapes came into view as he tried to focus. As his vision began to clear, another
thing stuck him. Something smelled delicious; someone was cooking something nearby.
He turned his head ever so slightly to one side, and immediately ceased the movement. His head
hurt so much . . . he reached up with one hand and felt bandages wrapped carefully around his
head and back, and the memories of his fall down the creek bank came back to him. He opened
his eyes once more, struggling to focus. There was a blurry figure some distance away, bending
over some sort of portable stove, their hair coming loose from their low ponytail and getting in
their eyes . . .
As he focused, he noticed that his rescuer was a young boy, about his age. No-- not a boy. That
was a girl, around nine years old just like him. She'd done pretty well to disguise herself, but she
was nothing like the other boys he knew. There was something in the way she moved, in the way
her fingers seemed to caress the cooking tools she was using, and the way her long dark hair
slipped around her face as she moved, that just gave her away immediately.
She looked up, and smiled at him. It lit up the girl's face, and he couldn't make himself look
away. Her smile, so completely innocent and unassuming, could change a heart forever . . . he
just needed someone to smile at him like that. Suddenly, he didn't feel quite so lonely anymore. If
only she would just keep smiling at him like that . . .
Ryoga opened his eyes reluctantly-- the world behind his closed eyelids was a much nicer place
than the harsh reality he had to live in. He felt strangely warm and comfortable, although a
strange throbbing in his head kept distracting him. He wasn't focusing terribly well-- the pain in
his head seemed to have something to do with that.
Then, suddenly, he remembered what had happened. Something about an explosion, and a caving
cliff face, and falling . . . but after that, he couldn't remember anything. How had he gotten here,
with a blanket on him, and his head bandaged? And that strange smell in the air . . . as if someone
was cooking something delicious. He turned his head, the movement rustling the makeshift bed he
was lying on.
Some distance away, bending over the stove, was a slim figure. At first Ryoga's blurry eyesight
couldn't pick out details at all, but there was something about the girl that made him stop and
take a double take. Something awfully familiar . . . something in the way she moved, in the way
her fingers seemed to caress the cooking utensil she was using, and in the way her long dark hair
slipped around her face as she moved. It was all hauntingly familiar . . .
She glanced at him and straightened up as she set down her cooking tool. She crossed her arms
loosely, a troubled expression crossing her face. "You really worry me sometimes, sugar," she
said softly. Ryoga's eyes widened; he knew her. He hadn't been able to tell before, because his
vision had been so blurry, but now he knew-- and he knew her better than he ever had before.
And then, completely innocent and unassuming, she smiled at him.
Author's Notes:
This story attempts to explain why Ryoga loves Akane-- to me, it's always seemed rather strange
that he could like her so much in such a short period of time. I also wanted to write something
where every little detail within the story ties in together in the end, so that one has to read very
carefully. But it also shows one possibly way his heart might be swayed-- hence the title of the
story, "To Change the Heart." When Ryoga first falls in love with Akane, what strikes him about
how nice she is to him, and included in that kindness is her smile. Ryoga's always been rather
affection-deprived, since his parents are never around. So I tried to explain why Akane's smile
would affect him so much by putting in a flashback of being shown kindness when he's in dire
straights. The situation and atmosphere of present-day Ryoga's surroundings trigger his memory
of that day, and only when he awakes to find himself in the same situation does he realize its
significance. After all, he does think to himself in his flashback: "A smile like that could change a
heart forever . . ."