Ranma Saotome, recently man amongst men and now girl amongst girls (or so she'd like to think) sits on the genkan of the Tendou family home, feeling as blue as it was probably possible to get. The lump on the back of her head hurts. Tears spring to her eyes as she rubs it, and she allows herself a little sniffle.

A Lady isn't afraid to cry!

Akane had hit her. She'd hit her hard. It had never hurt like this before, in those memories that didn't quite feel like hers. The rock had hit her head and Akane had seemed to think it would help!

It had not, it just made feeling like a man fuzzier.

Like she'd been in a dream and finally woken up.

Or died and come back to life wrong. But it felt so right.

The door slides open, and Kasumi steps out, kneeling next to Ranma and looking at the girl sniffling quietly. Softly she puts a hand on the girl's shoulder and the sniffling eases a little, though her shoulders still shake.

"Ranma-chan. I'm sorry about Akane."

"I killed him." The redhead says softly. "Didn't I? I killed your Ranma and now everyone hates me."

The doctor had told them it was permanent, in her chi even, and any further attempts to dislodge what has happened may be dangerous to her health.

Akane ranges between violent rage and confused sobbing whenever she sees Ranma being anything like feminine. Father becomes more distraught and Uncle Soun soon follows him into black moods and drinking at the shougi board.

Kasumi doesn't seem to notice a different, it's something Ranma is comforted by. The kind older girl takes care of Ranma and appreciates the help that Ranma tries to provide over the next few days, but Ranma catches her looking uncomfortable once or twice and soon stops talking to her. She knows that look.

Murderer.

A yōkai that stole his place.

She stops talking to any of them after a few days. Happosai disappears after trying one too many perverted tricks and getting kicked out by Kasumi ("I'm sorry but this is not appropriate"). Akane refuses to look at her. Nabiki looks at her like a lottery ticket, and some danger sense tells her to sleep lightly.

Changeling.

A week goes by. Every day she grows quieter, every moment more agonising for her. They don't even look at her anymore.

Cuccoo.

Soun and Genma have tried over and over to 'cure' her.

Parasite.

Cure her of what, being herself?

She sees Akane's growing resentment. Regardless of whether she's defending herself or dodging, or even just letting it happen, Akane's fists hurt. She has bruises that don't heal like they used to.

She doesn't hit back. A lady doesn't fight.

Akane avoids her head.

Part of her wants to forgive the violence as the only thing Akane ever managed to use against Ranma, as he was once, that worked.

The other part of her judges the tomboy harshly for attacking someone clearly not wishing to fight.

What's worse is the crying after, the whispered apologies. The broken promises when she inevitably does something Akane considers 'too girly' and the short-haired girl snaps again.

She knows Akane doesn't mean it, that her temper is vile and were she still the same Ranma it would be nothing unusual or particularly painful, just annoying.

But as she is now, it hurts. Akane can't see her for the shadow of who she was in that dream.

She sits at the table, frustrated, the anger boiling over even her ladylike manners. The sadness threatening to overwhelm her. Any moment she says she wants to do something, Nabiki laughs at her or Akane gets angry, or the parents start crying. So she's stopped talking, or even looking.

It's like she doesn't exist.

A jibakurei hanging in the Tendou household as a constant reminder of what they lost.

Another three days of this farce, sitting at the table and finally something inside her just tears and she finally explodes.

"You don't see me, do you?" She says, eyes tearing up. "I'm here but none of you see me."

It has been like a long, ongoing, never-ending funeral. One day after another, watching them go through grief.

Anger.

Akane.

Sadness.

The Fathers.

Denial.

Kasumi.

Bargaining.

Nabiki

But no acceptance.

"Ranma-chan that's not-" Kasumi starts.

Unneeded.

"It is! You all see Ranma the boy, you think I killed him!"

Unnecessary.

"That's right!" Akane snaps. "You did, and there's just some girly girl here instead of the Ranma we know!"

She knows the unsaid part. Know and love. Her memories are never entirely clear, fuzzy and dreamlike, but her love for Akane is undimmed, even if it has mutated into something else that is still love.

Unwanted.

Akane's hand goes to her mouth and she makes a small noise as Ranma stands. "I-I didn't…"

The apologies again.

She's out the door, running down the street before she knows anything else.

Thing.

Nerima flashes by. Blurs due to the tears that won't stop coming no matter what she says to herself.

Ranma runs. The sun is bright, warm. She wishes it wasn't.

She wishes it was a dark and stormy night. Her tears wouldn't shame her so, then. Tears for a family that she never had.

Not really.

That family was never hers because she killed their Ranma and is now just a haunting reminder of the boy who died. A walking-talking body that's not yet given up life. That got up and ran off.

The bridge looms ahead of her and she sits on the railing to have a good cry. The river rushes beneath it and the sluggish traffic this afternoon does not bother her.

She looks down at the river. It would be so easy. Then they'd have their corpse, and it wouldn't even be walking and talking around anymore. The thought is so tempting and for a single, dizzying moment she leans forwards, hands on the rail, and, without actually meaning to just falls.

She accepts it as her fate then closes her eyes. Perhaps this would be better. Then she'd not have that nagging, constant guilt.

She slams into the railing as something grabs her arm and wrenches it, and she hisses in pain s she's drawn up by that arm and bundled into a pair of powerful arms.

"Ranma?" Asks a boy with fluffy hair and a fang. He looks shocked, like seeing her for the first time.

Overwhelmed, she passes out in his arms.