Amor Fati

Notes: I get the feeling like I'm starting to dance up to the limits of the T-rating. But since this fic feels PG-13, I'm going to keep it.

Some other thoughts. This is a chapter that honestly, I had not planned in my original outline. It evolved naturally in the writing. I probably had more fun writing this chapter than just about any other.

Chapter 11: Girls Just Want to Have Fun

Ranma took a glance at her watch: it read 6:55, and she always kept it a little fast. She rounded the corner briskly, and now the electronics shop was in sight. The street traffic had slowed compared to her last visit. The overpowering stench of city, the mélange of car exhaust, body odor, rotting food and industrial fumes, had been suppressed by a recent rain shower.

Ranma was soaked. At least no transformation hijinks followed that experience. She had chosen to dress for the occasion. She'd borrowed some nice clothes from Akane, though she devoutly refused to explain why. It seemed profane to bring it up in front of her ex-fiancée. Especially after Akane had insisted so forcefully on picking the outfit, doing her hair and accessorizing.

I wish I had brought an umbrella, Ranma lamented. The black over the shoulder t-shirt was now soaked. Worse, the ensemble Akane had picked for her didn't include a bra. Akane said that'd be "gauche" to war one with the shirt.

Ranma didn't know what was worse: the fact that she had grown comfortable enough with a bra to lament its absence, or that she was taking fashion advice seriously. The black pants were okay at least. Loose enough to flexible without getting in the way. But the studded leather belt felt awkward wrapped jauntily around her hips.

The real indignity, though, was her hair. Without even so much as asking her opinion, Akane had taken out her queue, stuck her head under the faucet, washed her hair, blow dried it, and then attacked it with brushes, chemicals, irons and hair spray.

It wasn't Saotome Ranma reflected in the mirror; some pop-rock queen gazed back at her from beyond the glass. She wondered what Ibuki would think of it, and her heart began to thump wildly. Could it be she was actually looking forward to this?

After the rain storm, though, her hair had lost a bit of volume. She self-consciously checked it in a parked car's mirror. It still had the teased-out look that Akane was going for.

"You're late," Ibuki chided.

Ibuki had been waiting under an awning, still as blonde and statuesque as ever. The rain drizzled off the canvas, pattering like soft taps on a drum. Little rivulets streamed through holes in the canvas, splattering off Ibuki's faded blue jean jacket. Ibuki didn't seem to notice; the blonde watched her hungrily as she skipped under the canvas.

Ranma found her gaze drawn to Ibuki's open jacket. The blonde's well-worn Cheap Trick(1) tour t-shirt hugged tightly to her curves until just above the belly-button, exposing the milky-white skin of her midrift.

Ranma checked her watch: 6:59. She remembered how much Ibuki loved to tease, and vowed to get the better of her. "I am not late," she said, "You're just anxious to see me again."

"Ooh you're good. Nice perm, by the way."

"Thanks. I had some help though," said Ranma with a shrug. At least my date likes it, she said to herself. Date, huh. I'm really going out on a date with another girl.

Ranma's heart began to pound. She couldn't tell if the fluttering feeling in her core was due to excitement or anxiety. But before she knew it, Ibuki unfurled an umbrella. The salesgirl grinned, took her by the hand, and led her off into the night. They splashed through puddles as they wove through throngs of exhausted weekend worker drones.

"Come on, if we don't hurry we'll miss the show!" panted Ibuki.

"What show?"

"Queensrÿche.(2) They're playing at Nihon-Seinen Hall tonight."

"But isn't that in Shinjuku?"

"Yeah, if we hurry we'll make the train."

They made the train without a moment to lose. Ibuki clung tightly to a safety pole as she caught her breath. "I like riding the trains on Sunday," she said, "They're quieter."

This fact hadn't escaped the redhead martial artist. She was alone with Ibuki in the car. The blonde was so close Ranma could taste her lilac scented perfume. Ibuki advanced closer still, pressing the red-haired girl against the wall. The blonde girl bit her cherry red lip.

Oh god, what if someone sees! Ranma said to herself. But the only judging eyes in the car were from the public service posters. They were alone, and it was simple. No betrothals, no childhood marriage promises, no future of the school to consider. Just two toned bodies enjoying each other's embrace. So Ranma just let go of it all. Their fingers intertwined, and their lips met.

Ranma was in no rush, and Ibuki was content to indulge her. Their kiss was slow and passionate, and Ibuki's lips were so soft and inviting. And for a moment, the whole universe faded into nothingness. There was no rustle of the car, no metallic clack against the tracks, no fiancées and no dojo to hold her back.

They gasped as their lips parted. Ibuki's lip gloss had tasted like cherries. One of the salesgirl's hands slipped from hers. Ibuki's fingers feathered over her shoulders, sliding down to the small of her back before continuing on. She felt a sharp pinch on her butt, and as she cried out, Ibuki smothered her mouth in another kiss.

Ranma pulled the blonde tightly to her. Their kiss broke, and as they panted, Ranma felt a firm grab at her butt. A moan escaped her lips and her heart pounded like a taiko drum. She could never have imagined that Saotome Ranma, Man-Among-Men, could sound his lewd.

Ibuki giggled softly before kissing at her neck. As the kisses turned to love bites, she couldn't contain herself from moaning. The hand on her but slid down, and her leg responded automatically, lifting up into the blonde's arm. Ibuki pressed closer still, the sales girls' pelvis grinding against her own.

The doors chimed open. When did we reach the next station? wondered Ranma. Suddenly the whole world came crashing back. The rush of danger sent a thrill through her like a bolt of lightning. Ibuki's every touch burned with pleasure echoing though her core deep into her sex. She cried out, clinging to her partner for dear life. It seemed to ripple through her for an eternity, and suddenly Ranma found that she had wilted into Ibuki's arms.

She slowly opened her eyes. Ryoga was standing slack jawed in the open door, blood dripping from his nose.

"Err…don't mind me miss," he stammered, "I was just er well trying to find my way to Nerima and well, I thought I heard someone in pain so I came running…well sorry for intruding." He turned to leave the car, but the door had already closed. His head left a sizeable dent in the aluminum. He began to fall.

Shouting apologies, Ranma pushed Ibuki to the side. She dove to catch the poor lost boy before he dashed what little brains he had left out on the train floor.

"Do you know this guy?" asked Ibuki.

"Yeah. He's my friend. We train together a lot."

Ibuki rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "That makes sense. Something 'bout the way you moved made me think you were a martial artist. Karate? Or do you practice aikido?"

"Kempo actually. Anything-Goes School. Learned it from my Pop. I've been staying at his old friend's dojo though. That's sort of a long story."

"I guess I'd like to hear it someday. So this boy is kind of cute. Have you and he ever…you know?"

"Oh no, we ain't like that. He's a huge dork actually, even though he is one of my best friends."

"I see," said Ibuki. Ranma wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but she knew incredulity when she heard it. "So do you go both ways, Ranma?"

"What?"

"I mean, do you like boys as well as girls."

No! Ranma screamed inwardly. But that felt too practiced and automatic to be true, even to her. After battling with herself for a moment, she finally settled on an answer: "I don't know."

Ibuki knelt down beside where Ranma cradled Ryoga on her lap. The blonde's brief pang of jealousy seemed be over.

Ryoga almost looked like he was sleeping. Ryoga you dork, she said to herself, Where would you be without me looking after you? She untied his head band and fished a canteen from the lost boy's pack. She emptied the contents onto the rag, careful not to spill any onto Ryoga directly. After ringing the bandana out, she carefully placed it on the welt developing on Ryoga's forehead.

Ranma's thoughts rushed back to her life at the Tendo dojo. She thought of Akane, and the bitter tears that Ukyo had wept. And suddenly she felt like she was making a huge mistake.

"Oh god," whispered Ranma, "What am I doing here?"

Ibuki frowned. "What, you're not getting cold feet are you?"

"No. It's just that…" The words just wouldn't come.

"Ranma, after what we just did, you owe me an explanation."

From the beginning then. "There's something I have to tell you. I don't know if you'll like it. Or if you'll even believe me if I tell you. But if I don't, then nothing else will make sense."

Ibuki sat quietly lost in thought. Finally, she shrugged and said, "Okay Ranma, shoot. I promise I'll listen fairly."

"You see, I wasn't born a girl. My father, Saotome Genma, took me on a training trip to China. We had an accident at some cursed springs, and I was curse to turn into a girl when—"

"Whoa, hold on. You're Saotome Ranma?" Ibuki interrupted. "Oh man, I thought I recognized you from somewhere."

"Wait a sec, you already know about that?"

"Dude, you're practically a legend! Of course I've heard about Nerima's genderbending martial artist and his posse of psychos who want to kill and/or marry him. You can't cause as much havoc as you do without getting a reputation."

Ranma breathed a sigh of relief.

"That explains a lot. But I thought you were a boy who changed into a girl with cold water. Why are you running around shopping and going on dates as a girl?"

Ranma told her about her misadventure in Spain, where she learned that magic artifacts are crazy regardless of culture. The redhead tried to be as boring and perfunctory as possible, but the story still fascinated Ibuki, who nodded along eagerly. "So," Ranma asked, "you're not mad about me being a boy living as a girl? Especially after we, well, you know?"

"Oh not at all. I prefer girls, but I do like boys as well," Ibuki stated matter-of-factly, as though she were talking about her preference in soft drinks. "But still, that doesn't explain why you're having second thoughts, hon. So out with it!"

"Ibuki, listen. I've never felt anything like that before," said Ranma, blushing fire-engine red. "But the girl my father betrothed me to, Akane. I love her more than anything. And she broke my heart when she chose the real me over the cheap imitation. Sometimes I hate her for it, and I feel guilty. But most times I just feel broken. And I don't know if I'll ever be ready to move on. In spite of everything, I still feel like I'm betraying her."

Ibuki placed an arm around her shoulder, pulling their bodies together. "Look hon," said the blonde, "I wasn't ever looking for any big commitments. We're just two girls out to have a good time. I'm not saying you have to move on; all I'm sayin' is that you're not betraying anyone. Because neither of us is looking for Miss Right. Just Miss Right Now. So if Akane has a problem with you locking lips with other girls, then she can go fuck herself."

Ranma laughed softly at her vulgarity. It was so refreshing compared to the stuffy traditionalism she'd long been trapped under. And maybe there could be perks to not having to be the good son.

Ryoga slowly began to stir. He lay their lazily, warmly content to have two pretty girls watching over her. Then his memory must have returned, because he tried to bolt to his feet, shouting apologies. But Ranma held him down, cooing softly as the lost boy kicked helplessly.

Finally he calmed down. He still kept muttering apologies for seeing them, and seemed to be dumbfounded when no violent retribution came. "Come on, dude, don't overreact," Ibuki chided, "It's our fault for foolin' around on a public train. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Tell that to the girls at Furinkan High," muttered Ryoga.

He sat up slowly, nursing the shiner on his forehead. "You just take it easy, Ryoga," Ranma said as she helped him to his feet.

He stared incredulously at the redhead. "Wait a second, how do you know my name?" he demanded.

Ranma rolled her eyes. Poor gullible Ryoga, she said to herself. She pinched his cheeks, pulling his face close to hers. "It's me, Ranma, you pig-brain."

"Well how am I supposed to know it's you when you look like you're cosplaying Madonna?"

"Aha," cried Ibuki at her sudden epiphany, "so that's where I saw your get up. Nice inspiration."

Ibuki had insisted that Ryoga accompany them to the rock concert, as payment for the trouble they'd caused him. If it stopped her from being flirty at all, Ranma didn't notice. Even with Ryoga along, it still felt like a date. In between the loud, frenetic music, Ibuki would whisper seductively in her ear.

For two hours, they shouted along to the music. It was about half way through their set that Ranma started to wonder if there was a story being woven by the music and lyrics. She tried to follow it, but mostly she just felt the blood-pumping music course through her. It was strange, new and glorious all at once. The tempo reminded her of the frenzy of fighting. Amidst the great throngs of rock fans, Ranma once again lost herself.

Only when she feared that her ears would begin to bleed did the music let up. The band completed their encore to a thunderous ovation, thanked the good people of Tokyo for showing up, and filed off stage. The crowded venue began to empty, and Ranma clung tightly to both Ibuki and Ryoga, lest they be separated. Soon the crowds thinned, spreading out under the starry sky.

Not wanting to let the magic end, Ranma suggested they go dancing. Ibuki declared that it was the best idea yet, and the two dragged Ryoga along with them. For the most part, he seemed content with their company.

They found a bar/discotheque that Ibuki knew by reputation. They weren't too nosy about keeping minors out, and they played energetic dance music. It was a slow night, with barely enough people on the floor to keep the place moving and grooving. But Ranma was undeterred. If it was good enough for Bruce Lee, she thought, it is good enough for me.

They danced, sometimes all together, other times in a pair while the third got refreshments. The boys whistled their approval to the guy lucky enough to be with two girls, while the other girls eyed him hungrily.

"I think we found Tokyo's most eligible bachelor," Ibuki said in between tracks.

Ryoga had gone to relieve himself, and now slightly inebriated, Ranma felt no shame in talking about him behind his back. "Don't tell him that," she giggled, "It might go to his head."

Dancing with the perky blonde was its own treat. But like forbidden fruit, it was her time with Ryoga that was most tempting. He was so nervous as they danced together to a string of synthpop tunes. She was nervous too, truth be told. It felt like her stomach was dancing a jig inside her. But let go of her apprehensions. His body felt so good pressed against hers. And while he was a slow starter, he soon found his rhythm.

Ranma felt light as a feather as she danced the night away. The legacy that had weighed her down was cast off. She was free of her father's dream for her. No more destiny to unite the schools and become a man among men. There was a world with infinite possibilities out there, and this redheaded tomboy was determined to see it.

After the dancing wore them down, they left the disco. But still, Ranma did not want the night to end yet.

They walked to a nearby park, still burning with nervous energy. Ibuki raked her nails across Ryoga's back, whispering in his ear. The poor lost boy blushed and stammered. Ranma could only laugh heartily. That dope, she said to herself. If he would just stop being so self-conscious, he might even enjoy himself.

It was a new moon. The only light that pierced the grotto's tangled vines and thick stands of flowering lilacs was starlight and a few tiny streams from the nearby neon storefronts. Ranma could contain cauldron of pent of energy no longer. She tackled Ryoga, slamming him into the grass. She held his arms crossed above his head. He didn't seem to be too phased. With a cough, he mumbled "Do you really think you should be sparring with me while you're on a date?"

Ranma found herself paralyzed as she stared into the lost boys brown eyes. Trembling, she bit her lip in anticipation. What are you doing, Saotome? she asked herself, He's beautiful and clueless and right there in your grasp. Just do it and worry about the fallout later or else you'll never know.

Ibuki laughed, "Seems to me you're on a date too, Ryoga."

It was all the encouragement she needed. She intertwined her fingers with his. Ryoga must have sensed what was coming, because he began to blush. As he gasped in surprise, Ranma leaned in to kiss him.

For a moment he seemed to kiss back. But then he remembered himself, pushing the redhead away with arms like concrete girders. He sat up in a start, keeping Ranma at arm's length. She knelt in between his akimbo legs, pouting.

"What's gotten into you Ranma?" he demanded, "Aren't you a guy for crying out loud?"

Ibuki slipped in behind him. Her hands slipped onto his shoulders, holding him in place, "Does she look like a man right now to you?"

"That's the thing, Ryoga," said Ranma, "I've already told you I'm a girl too. And I'm through being awkward around you. You're beautiful, and I guess I'm attracted to you, dummy. I don't want to live in denial about that. I like you, you're one of my closest friends. And I think I might also want you."

Ryoga swallowed hard.

"We don't have to go anywhere with this. I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to."

She pulled his hand from her shoulder, sliding it down to her heart. "Can you feel it pounding, Ryoga? My heart is beating like this because of you. I like this feeling. I hope you like it too."

He smelled faintly of sweat, soap and the forest. She felt his hand tremble as he touched her. She moved in closer, holding his body close to hers. As she sat on his lap, she felt a hard bulge press into pelvis. "I think you want this body too," she whispered, "And that's okay. I can be a girl for you, if you're fine with a tomboy like me."

Ryoga seemed tempted. But he still pushed her way, though gently this time. "Ranma, you can be so infuriating. For the longest time, all I cared about was beating you. But somehow we still became friends, because that's the kind of person that you are. But I'm sorry, I can't see you as a girl."

Ranma felt like a balloon that someone let the air out of. She began to deflate instantly, fighting back tears. She succeeded this time.

"Look, Ranma, I know this isn't what you want to hear right now, but you'll always be a man among men to me. I'm sorry."

Ryoga's rejection felt a lot worse than she anticipated. She shrank away, muttering her apologies and saying "forget what I said." Ibuki politely excused herself, saying that these two old friends obviously had a lot of issues to deal with.

It took her a while, but Ranma finally composed herself. She ignored the feeling of emptiness, and tried to congratulate herself for remaining mostly stoic in front of Ryoga. It didn't make her feel any better. Ryoga tried to excuse himself too, probably after he was sure that Ranma would be alright.

She wouldn't let him go. "Oh no you don't. You'll just get yourself lost again, and Akane will pine away for ol' P-chan again. You're coming back with me."

"Are you sure that's a good idea Ranma?"

"Hey, it's no biggie. I've never been better," she lied. "Besides, you're going to have to come here sooner or later. And awkwardness or not, I can't let my friend sleep outside when there is a warm bed available to him."

She sighed deeply. "You just let me explain everything. And let me do it in my own time, alright?"

"Gotcha."

Ranma put one foot in front of the other, glad that Furinkan had given its students tomorrow off for repairs. She wondered how she was going to explain what happened to Akane, and suddenly the guilt came flooding back.

(1) They were probably more popular in Japan than they were in the US. They hit it big in Japan before they were a blip on the radar stateside. Japanese audiences seemed to love foreign rock bands.

(2) Just another reminder that this is a period piece. And you finally get a concrete date for the fic! Queensrÿche played at the Nihon-Seinen on 7 May 1989, during the final leg of a big world tour.