A/N: Sorry for yanking people around. Yes, Ch. 6 was replaced.

pizzigri: Akira revealing himself to Nabiki is still in Ch. 5.


Kasumi couldn't help herself. "Ranma-kun," she pleaded, "not the red one, too?"

Ranma looked at her steadily. "All of them," he said. "Surely the charity can use them?"

Kasumi nodded sadly. Ranma lifted the box off of the bed with one hand and set it in the corner of the room. "Thanks for letting me use your room, Kasumi-oneechan," he said.

"You're welcome, Ranma-kun."

As soon as Ranma was out of sight, Kasumi closed her door and headed for the box. She picked out the red purse, embroidered with dragons; the slinky red dress with the flare at the bottom; the purple sequined purse and matching headband; and the pale green dress with the white flowers. She hunted around until she found the well-loved cream-colored strappy sandals and the red patent-leather heels. She opened one of her bureau drawers, took out a few chunky sweaters, and carefully folded Ranma's things into the back of the drawer. The sweaters she hung in the closet, amid the newly-emptied coat-hangers, and then she went downstairs.


"Ranko-sensei has a brother?"

"Yes, and his name is Ranma," snapped Akane. "Blocks and punches. Hai!"

The Tendo dojo had reopened shortly after its reconstruction from the failed wedding. After the first week, Ranma had always taught as a girl. As a guy, Ranma-sensei that first week had been an insufferable showoff, and had nearly cost the dojo its advanced class. As a girl, 'Ranko-sensei' was content to be ogled and obeyed.

Akane glanced over at where Ranma was teaching. He was neither strutting around the way 'Ranko-sensei' habitually did, nor showing off the way Ranma-sensei had. He looked unusually...dull.

Kasumi, who was doing gentle stretches with the beginners, caught Akane's eye and shook her head ever so slightly.

Ranma was adjusting an advanced student's stance. Akane watched in spite of herself as she counted off the blocks and punches. Ranma's so patient with them, she thought sadly. Ranma could, in fact, be patient, as long as a student was sufficiently skilled enough to progress. He never bothered with me. I wish he would.

Ranma looked up suddenly, right at Akane, and Akane could feel her face color. Ranma is my fiance.

Akane riveted her attention onto a surprised student. "Very good form," she said loudly, and spent the next fifteen minutes doing drills.

After the beginners had gone home, Akane let her group line up for a drink of water. She stood and rested, her thumbs tucked in her belt, as Ranma and her father supervised the advanced students' sparring. Two students, waiting their turn, were whispering nearby, and the smattering of conversation that reached Akane's ear revealed that their attention was definitely not on sparring.

"...he must be her twin brother. They look so alike."

"He's a little skinny, but man, is he ripped!"

A third student was not so easily impressed. "He must be gay," the teenager said spitefully. "Look at the way he moves his hips."

His friend nudged him. "Why are you watching his hips? Are you gay?"

Several students around them started giggling. Ranma looked over and frowned uneasily.

"No," the third boy said. "I bet he is, though," he persisted, resentful of an earlier criticism that Ranma had made of his technique. "Really. Watch him. He totally walks like a girl. I bet he even-"

Akane barely had time to blink before Ranma was suddenly on her side of the room, his hand stopped a hair's breadth from the boy's throat.

Ranma stalked out the door, his ears burning in shame, pulling off the top of his gi and throwing it ahead of him in disgust.

Kasumi was already fluttering around the nearly-injured boy, murmuring over the red mark but pronouncing him basically all right.

"Senpai!" Akane called to the senior student in line. "Take charge of my group." The girl stepped out of line, taking off her gloves and heading towards the middle-level students. Akane raced out the door.

Ranma was splashing his face in the koi pond, hot tears keeping the small amount of cold water from changing him into a girl. "Akane," he gasped, catching sight of her.

"Ranma." Akane wanted to rush forward and hold him like P-chan. She knelt beside him. "Ranma, you shouldn't have paid any attention to him." There I go again, she thought miserably. I'm always blaming Ranma.

Ranma's shoulders had hardened. "Yeah, I thought you might say that."

"I didn't mean it like that," Akane tried again. "I mean, no one honestly believes you're gay."

"Yeah? And what if I am?"

Um, hello? You're my fiance, remember? Thankfully, Akane didn't say that. "No one would think less of you anyway," she said firmly, the implications of his words only beginning to sink in. She brushed them away. "That kid can be kind of a jerk. Don't let him hurt you."

Ranma gave his face a final rinse. "I can't teach like this," he said.

"Like what?"

"As a guy."

"Then change back," Akane suggested. "We'll say Ranko was at a dentist's appointment."

"It's no good," Ranma said. "Either way I'll lose control." He stood up. "Tell your father I'm sorry."

"Ranma! You didn't even hurt that kid. He's fine."

"Akane, I almost killed him. I can't take that chance again."

"Akane-chan?" Akane could hear Kasumi's voice. She turned her head instinctively, and when she turned it back, Ranma was walking away towards his family's house.

With his goofy grins and nonchalant air, and especially when he was a girl wearing his high-cut swimsuit plastered with the word "boy," one sometimes forgot just how serious Ranma could be; that he was a martial artist of the highest caliber, for whom the words honor and duty were a code for life. Akane had forgotten it. Guilt roiled in her chest. He has to be a man among men all the time, she remembered. And he has to marry me. And for weeks I've been dating Hiroshi. She dashed the tears from her eyes and prayed that she would be able to keep her temper for the rest of the day.


Genma dodged. "You'll have to do better than that, boy," he cried with his usual enthusiasm. Inside, his mind was working harder than it normally did. So was his body, for that matter.

Genma ran around the decorative stone house by the koi pond, buying some time. It wasn't nearly enough; Ranma sailed over the pond, and Genma just barely spun out of the way. It was strange. Genma should have been elated that the boy was training so hard these days. But the funny thing was, Ranma had already been at such a high level, and training so much, that this extra vigor wasn't helping his technique at all. His attacks were no more precise or creative; they were simply more savage.

Genma acknowledged to himself that there was something to the theory of over-training. After all, he himself had his distractions: shogi, the occasional drink, trips to the zoo to tease the panda-keepers. Ranma's distractions used to be to bother Akane, or to dress up like a girl and cause mischief, or occasionally to buy some frippery girl-things. He wasn't doing any of that lately.

Ranma's foot whistled by Genma's ear.

"Still too slow!" The next foot knocked Genma's glasses askew, and took a chip out of the tree bark behind him.

Genma bounced into the koi pond, turned into a panda, and propelled himself upward off of a rock. Genma's midair strike caught Ranma in the arm, and Ranma fell into the pond. She shot out of the water, looking furious, and began a whirlwind combination that Genma blocked only with difficulty.

Ranma got in a lucky strike, or so Genma classed it, as he rolled, wheezing, to a stop.

"Dead," Ranma said, without any satisfaction. She strode over to the porch, grabbed the thermos there, and carefully poured a cup of hot water over herself.

Male Ranma screwed the top back on. He bared his teeth. "Ready for another round, old man?"

Genma-panda beckoned for the thermos, and Ranma tossed it to him. Genma changed back and put a hand to his temple. "Boy," he intoned seriously, "I think it's time for a training trip."

Away from the Tendo house, Ranma's mood was markedly improved. He swung around on a tree branch, imitating some high-bar moves he had seen on television.

Genma watched, pleased. There was nothing like the great outdoors to soothe the spirit.

Ranma hopped down to the ground. "Okay, what's the new technique?"

"Here, boy," responded Genma jovially, putting a rod and line into Ranma's hands. "Martial Arts Fly-Fishing."

Ranma stared at his father. "Fly-fishing?"

"Martial Arts Fly-Fishing. It helps focus the mind."

Ranma had begun to frown, and the air around them had begun to grow cold. "Pops," Ranma said between ground teeth, "you are supposed to train me to be the greatest fighter of my generation; a man among men."

"Y-yes," Genma faltered. "That's what this is, boy. Training." This was training to prevent over-training, to be precise. On the other hand, maybe if the boy broke again, he would gain some new special ability even better than the nekoken, cat-fu. Genma weighed the idea. Nodoka said she was supportive of Ranma's training, but would she really forgive Genma if Ranma came up with another sort of nekoken? On the other hand, such an extra skill might ensure that Ranma was the best of his generation, and save both Genma's and Ranma's necks. Perhaps he should test the waters, so to speak, when they got home.

Genma dispensed with contemplation, and seized his own set of fishing gear with determination. "Look, boy." Weeks of truancy as a teen had given Genma the art of tying the perfect lure. "And now...you cast." The end of the line went in a smooth arc into the water. Thank you, Outdoors Television Programming.

Ranma looked suitably impressed. "Okay," he said. "I cast like...this?" The line gave a jerk and dropped.

Genma had given Ranma a defective pole. It wouldn't do to make things too easy, after all.


The man in the bandanna crushed the can on the bar and held out his hand for another one.

Normally, the bartenders would have cracked jokes among themselves at a man who drank can after can of tomato juice. But, when said man could crush cans effortlessly into perfect aluminum disks, and when said man was making a visible depression in the stout oak countertop, one kept one's mouth shut.

An attractive-looking young woman slid onto the stool beside the man.

"Nabiki." Ryoga said tonelessly. "Come to gloat?"

"Next round's on me," Nabiki told the bartender. "Raspberry Perrier."

Ryoga glanced woozily at her. "Generous of you."

"It's your money anyway," Nabiki said breezily. "From when we went to the restaurant."

"Yeah, I remember." Ryoga waved his hand dismissively. "So how'd you find me?"

"It wasn't hard," Nabiki said. "This place is right next door to Ucchan's. I pass it every morning on my way to the gym."

Ryoga sat up straighter. "But I was just in North Korea!" He shuddered. "The DMZ is not really demilitarized."

Nabiki waved her hand. "Does this look like North Korea to you? Anyway," she continued, accepting her fruit-flavored water, "a certain girl has been on your mind, ne?"

Ryoga tossed back his tomato juice. "Yeah," he said heavily. "You're right. It's no wonder."

"Thinking about Ranma brings you to her, doesn't it?"

"Him, her, yeah," Ryoga admitted.

"How long has this been happening?" Nabiki asked curiously.

Ryoga wondered if he should be on guard against Nabiki's questions, but decided it was too much effort. "I don't know. A while. Maybe since the start of the summer." He set the empty can on the counter. "Maybe earlier."

Nabiki took a sip of water and shook her head. Ryoga and Ranma, huh. It was insane. But then, so many things around here were.

"Damn it." Ryoga tapped the can lightly with his fist, and it collapsed. "Why'd he have to leave like that?"

Nabiki eyed the flattened can. "I think it's a little complicated," she offered.

"It always is, isn't it," Ryoga sighed morosely.

"Yes, but that's no reason to give up. Look, I have some information that might help you."

Ryoga popped the tab on another tomato juice. "How much?"

Nabiki frowned and twirled the bottle of water on the counter. "Free of charge."

"No, seriously."

"Yes, seriously."

"Nabiki, if this is some game..."

"It's not. Really, it's not. You see, if I can get things back to normal, then this'll make me more money in the end."

"Oh, yeah?" Ryoga took a swig of tomato juice. "How's that?"

"It's like this: Ranma's stopped teaching in the dojo. Without Ranma teaching, we can't hold as many classes, and we're losing revenue."
"Why'd he stop teaching? And why don't you just tell him that? Get Kasumi to do it. I'm sure he'd listen to her."

"Look, Ryoga, I don't know if you knew this, but Ranma always taught as a girl."

Ryoga made a face. "Guys can teach," he said. "I taught him everything he knows about Martial Arts Rhythmic Gymnastics."

"By beating each other up until sunrise, if Akane told me correctly," Nabiki said skeptically.

"Yeah, well, I've gotten better."

"Anyway," Nabiki continued, "the real problem is that Ranma's stopped turning into a girl."

Ryoga looked at her sharply. "His curse is gone?"

"No, it's still there. But Ranma's...different. Before, he used to hang around as a girl some, take his time about changing back." And go on dates, apparently. "But now, he changes back right away. It's like he doesn't want to spend an extra second being a girl. That's why he's stopped teaching. On the other hand..." Nabiki tapped a manicured nail on the countertop, working out how to word this.

"Yes?"

Maybe the straight approach would be best with Ryoga. "Akane and Ranma are doing a lot better." Nabiki glanced slyly at Ryoga, who was sitting very still.

Ryoga put down the can. "They've stopped fighting?"

"For the time being."

"Are they...happy together?" Ryoga choked.

The words felt funny in Nabiki's mind, and they felt even stranger on her lips: "I don't know."


Would Ranma refuse to see him? Would Ranma be angry? Ryoga's heart beat quickly in his chest as he approached the yard. An infinitesimal check in the kata's motion told him that Ranma had noticed him.

"Ranma..."

Ranma turned around. "Yo. Ryoga. Let's spar."

"Um, okay," Ryoga mumbled, then stepped to the side quickly. Ranma wasn't kidding around. Ryoga spun and double blocked Ranma's leg. Unfortunately, this left him open to Ranma's fist, quick as a scorpion's tail. "Ow!"

"You're getting soft."

Okay. If this was how Ranma wanted to play, then Ryoga had, in fact, gathered some new tricks on his last journey. "Going easy on you. Swiss Cheese Spread!"

Ranma punched aside the array of blows that would otherwise have turned him into Swiss cheese. He countered with a new technique, but did not announce it.

Ryoga felt a brief pang. 'Pastry Blender of Doom' would have made a cool name for those sweeping side cuts. Well, if Ranma wasn't going to name his attacks, Ryoga wasn't, either.

The two fought on in grim silence for an hour, until Ranma finally smashed Ryoga into the ground. "Good fight," Ranma said curtly, and gathered up his towel and thermos.

"Ranma, wait."

"Yeah?"

"Ranma, would you like to go out with-"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ranma said, cutting Ryoga off, and walked back into the house.


Nodoka arranged the blooms in the bowl. She glanced outside, where Ranma and Ryoga were sparring. Her eyes met Kasumi's briefly.

Kasumi dropped her gaze back to the stems she was clipping. Nodoka wondered if Kasumi could see what Nodoka could see. Maybe not, Nodoka thought. Kasumi is still a girl yet. It was too bad, really; if things were different, Nodoka would have been delighted to have Kasumi as a daughter-in-law. She was sweet, obedient, and a good cook. One could entrust anyone confidently into Kasumi's care. It would have been a bonus that Kasumi and Nodoka got along well together.

As it was, Nodoka could see that this Ryoga fellow was clearly smitten with her Ranma. The other boy had shown up weekly in the early summer. He had been away for a while, but today he had returned, and his large, expressive eyes were following Ranma with a keen intensity, lingering on Ranma whenever they took a break. Ranma was by no means reciprocating these gestures – quite the opposite, in fact – but Nodoka had an idea of how courtship progressed. The urgency with which she must complete her task had multiplied tenfold.

Unfortunately, the means of accomplishing Nodoka's task had diminished. These days, Ranma was always within earshot. He had superhuman reflexes and an uncanny sense of when Nodoka was about to have an 'accident.' The problem was complicated in that Nodoka felt that the accident had to be a public one: there had to be witnesses, so that no one could accuse Nodoka of trying to destroy the contract by herself.

Nodoka studied Ryoga furtively. He was obviously a competent fighter. She remembered a handful of incidents vaguely, but Ryoga now seemed to have enough control over himself to damage neither Ranma nor himself nor the various buildings, walls, and assorted flora around them.

"Has Ryoga-kun known Ranma-kun for very long?" Nodoka wondered aloud languidly.

"Perhaps since junior high," Kasumi said amiably.

"They must be good friends. They spar so often."

"Akane-chan once remarked that Ryoga-kun saved Ranma-kun's life twice."

Nodoka shivered. How casually Kasumi had said that.

Kasumi clipped another stem. "I think..." she began quietly, to Nodoka's surprise, since Kasumi did not often express her opinions, "they are well suited to each other -" Kasumi paused.

Nodoka's hands started to shake, and she hid them in her kimono sleeves.

"- as friends, of course." Kasumi finished.

The statement was rather badly punctuated by Ranma slamming Ryoga into the dirt. He said something to Ryoga and came up the yard to the kitchen. "Mother," he said cordially. "Kasumi-oneechan. Very pretty flowers."

Nodoka noted sorrowfully that Ranma's greeting to her was no longer a cheerful, "Hi, Mom!" She resolved then and there that even though she had only budgeted for two power tools, she might as well buy three.