Ranma agonized, seconds after his hand had connected with her cheek. He drew it to his chest like a broken wing, and stared at Akane's face, flushed pink from the scalding water--and pinker still where he had struck her. Cringing slightly at his action, he turned away. He did not lift his eyes to the mirror.
He could feel the heat still clinging to the metal of the hospital sink's dull steel handle. "What'd I just do?" he whispered to himself. The words nearly lost themselves in the water, as did murmuring from outside the room. Even the slight trickle from the faucet seemed to taunt him... and he nearly ripped the offending thing from the counter.
And it wasn't as if he couldn't. Martial artists were known for being destructive, and Saotome Ranma was a martial artist. A particularly good one, at that. Oh, he could very probably have dented it beyond recognition if he'd chosen to--and the thing was steel--but at the moment, his mind was too preoccupied to send instructions to his fists.
Almost mechanically, Ranma soaked a cloth from the counter beneath the faucet. (He had to work to shut out an occasional whimper, even with the water running.)
His hands ached as he wrung out the cloth, not from any physical pain, but because he was becoming a Ryouga, just like the one he'd left... laying motionless in a dry Jusenkyou.
Vaguely, Ranma wondered if there wasn't a less rough rag about; it was a bit scratchy.
He hadn't hit Akane because he'd wanted to--God, no! It was stress, he told himself, stress that came from 'Dry Jusenkyou Equals No Cure' and, quite possibly, 'I am Ryouga's Murderer.'
But a pang in his heart cast a shadow of doubt over it all when he looked into Akane's eyes. He saw fear there and in her trembling lips. Because he'd hit her.
Ranma drew her in to him and held her, even as she tried to push him away, despising him. "Get away from me!" Her voice was full of it--of fear, but what hit him the hardest, perhaps, was the fact that he wanted it to stop, wanted to take back what he'd done, wanted somehow to forget his action--and to do that, he thought he would just shut it all up, all the reminders... Maybe he would do it with a fist.
"Dammit, Akane!" he cursed in a voice full of frustration. Bathing her skin with a veil of cool water, his hand began to shake, though almost imperceptibly. (Still, Ranma noticed.) His fiancee seemed to lift her face at his oath, though, baring her sweet, ivory neck to him... and he suddenly could feel her warm body close to his...
So very close...
Ranma swallowed, mouth dry, and fixed his attention on the rag. Hopefully, it would not give him a nosebleed. However, his brain was overworking itself on a question that would probably have unraveled the universe if he someday chanced upon the answer. Why hadn't Akane, at the very least, knocked him into the wall? Where was the dreaded Mallet? "How could you be so stupid?" he asked her.
"Mm?"
Ranma took this as a good sign. If she wasn't paying attention, he wouldn't end up in pain or with a concussion.
He placed her hands under the faucet and was reminded of the tiny wrists he held, her slender body as his arms fell on either side of her, a scent clinging to her skin and wafting from her hair to his nose... It was a scent he liked, familiar, one the bastard'd probably fell asleep with--more nights than him, her own fiance!
The jealousy was going to burst out of his head, someday. But then Akane turned, eyes searching... Ranma thought he might have kissed her, had the situation been different--would've kissed her long ago, if not for so many interruptions or the damned tape slipped over his lips.
"Who are you?"
And though the Nerima Ward of Tokyo had accustomed him to many strange sights and sounds, Ranma was not yet accustomed to this--but yes, it'd happened before. Even so, he nearly choked on his tongue.
"Y--You're joking, right?" He glared at Akane. Was this payback for slapping her? He preferred being kicked through the ceiling; physical reactions were usually pretty easy to understand ('I hate you, Ranma, you jerk!'), but mind games were waaaay beyond him. "Well, if it is, it ain't funny."
She pulled away from him. "I'm not joking! Who are you?!"
And Ranma could see it in her eyes--wild, frenzied--in the way she held herself around him--stiff, ready to bolt... as if she expected him to jump at her with bloodthirsty fangs at any second... He saw that, no, Tendou Akane didn't know who the hell her fiance was.
Nine. One. One.
From that point on, his body was on Automatic. He only barely recognized the doctor, Miss 'Is there a problem?' as he tore past her through the doorway, in search of any one of a certain Chinese tribe called Amazon.
~~~~~*~~~~~
Pain. Perhaps the worst thing to wake up to. A good thing his back was numb. Ryouga coughed softly and turned slightly onto his side. He could feel rock beneath him, but since when had rock become so cold? Jusenkyou was warmer than this... he'd thought.
When at last he deigned to open his eyes, the situation lightened for him a bit--but only a bit. At first, he thought Ranma'd gone and blinded him after he'd lost consciousness, but his vision quickly adjusted to the darkness, thanks to the moonlight shining through the cavern's mouth.
Still, it didn't answer the question he'd been asking everyday of his life: 'Where the hell am I now?!' This time, however, there was no recollection of ever walking beneath the stalactites that lined the entrance, and that, as he craned his neck back to take them in, perhaps, was what puzzled him most.
It hurt to breathe, but Hibiki Ryouga could still make out the smell of water. When he shut out the wind's moans from outside, he could hear a murmur of a small river, off somewhere, deeper within the cave. Then there was the strange absence of a moss, and if there was, he didn't catch its smell.
Rather unsteadily, Ryouga slid to his feet, staggered for a few steps before he caught his balance. So, Ranma hadn't broken anything. It'd seemed like Saotome would've done that, though... He hated to think what the guy would've done had he accidentally killed Akane. He didn't want to think of what he'd do to himself if he accidentally killed Akane!
He took a look at the cold block of stone he'd been lying on, but... when he did, it was to find that the block of stone was a block of ice--one that was perfectly chiseled. Surely, the warmth of his body had been enough to melt some of the ice, but upon further inspection, the surface was unmarred! It was glossy enough to reflect the moon to his eyes. Three-quarters full...
He shrugged to himself and winced as a dull ache began to throb somewhere. He knew why the block of ice was the way it was: Jusenkyou was weird and getting weirder. But, hey, it was home to Manhood.
Somewhere within his mind, he kicked an important fact beneath the carpet. If it hadn't, he would've found another reason to hate Ranma--as if there weren't enough.
It occurred to him, after several minutes of standing there, staring at the base of the ice block, that perhaps setting off for Jusenkyou would be best, considering how long it took for him to get to the bathroom in his own house. Whenever he could find his house.
Carefully, he stared at his feet and pivoted around toward the light--when left untended, his feet had the awkward habit of walking off in the direction his head didn't want to go. Now, getting from where he stood to the exit was probably the hardest thing for him to do.
He stepped slowly toward the opening. He could already feel the groaning wind on him--it only chilled him even more--but it meant he was nearing. With every inch, he had to pause to make sure the mouth of the cave was getting closer and not further. It seemed to work in the beginning, but somehow, he managed to veer off course, back toward the ice block. This frustrated him, but it did not easily surprise one accustomed to finding himself lost in a broom closet.
"I know of the fight with the blue-eyed boy, young sir. You actually should be dead."
The voice floating from the mouth of the cavern, however, did.
~~~~~*~~~~~
For a few minutes, Ranma thought he'd been booted from the hospital and banned because they thought he'd been a disruption--running around the building, ducking into all the rooms (once, he thought he saw the Jusenkyou Guide)--but the reason, ha ha, was that he was allegedly an abuser of women, of Akane! It was just too funny, that!
However, Ranma wasn't laughing. In fact, he nearly glared death at the small form that scooted herself up beside an older woman, before he realized it was a little girl. Then, he was left to glare at the dewy grass. The girl evidently thought he was funny, though, and began to giggle.
"Why I funny?" he said sullenly in Mandarin. She looked somewhat familiar... The girl from the waiting room, maybe? Braided glossy-black hair, as before.
She smiled and answered. From what Ranma could make out, she was asking why he was grumpy. To that, he shrugged--his vocabulary wasn't enough to explain his situation, even if he'd wanted to--and returned to his thoughts.
Or tried. There was a couple standing only a few meters away, arguing. Ranma turned a cold stare on them, willing them to feel his eyes on their backs, to move away. This was a hospital (or the tiny park before the parking lot, anyway)! Who were they to think they could yell like that?
He stalked off to a different bench, heedless of the straggly middle-aged man who scooted to the very end before Ranma sat down. Now, the couple's voices were just a murmur, blending in with all the background noise of cars, kids, and adults' discussions. A light smell of sap from the tree behind him pervaded the area, though this was easily ignored.
Who the hell did that doctor think she was?! Man, if there were problems between him and Akane, he would've been long gone! He sure as heck didn't want to burden Akane with all the jackasses trailing after him, but that was the way things were in his life.
And what about Akane? She didn't know who the heck he was, so what did she know about his 'hitting' her? There was only that one slap... and this time, there were no tittering Chinese broads leaping out at him from under the cool white beds, so he thought he could rule out the Amazons' shampoo formula 911... Then again, who was to say a certain lavender-haired girl hadn't hidden herself outside the hospital?
The man beside him coughed noisily, a fist to his mouth, and scrunched down further inside his thin jacket. Ranma put as much space between them as possible--he wasn't going to catch this guy's cold.
But it had to've been Ryouga! Ranma'd seen cartoons before, where people got knocked in the head--and they lost their memory, just like Akane. (It was just a tiny slap... Hot water... just to get her wits back!) Ryouga, on the other hand, had pretty much knocked her brains out. With her memory attached.
Ranma sobered. There wasn't much to do about Ryouga, though... He kind of hoped the guy was all right, and then there was that other side of him that worried, 'What if he's dead?' Cops'd be all over 'im if Ryouga was--and if he was, Ranma couldn't beat the stuffing outta him.
He'd already done that, anyway.
Still, there was a more pressing matter at hand. The white-clad doctor and nurses had 'politely asked' for him to leave, and then there was also the implied sentiment of 'Don't come back.' That was easy enough to get past, though. For a second, Ranma was glad Jusenkyou'd ended up dry, even after all those onions. Sure, the old ghoul's magic mirror was handy, but it didn't go easy on the eyeballs.
Passers-by took one look at the figure with the dark aura on the little green bench, and hurried past. Even the man sharing the bench left, though perhaps only to run and meet his daughter. It wasn't so much the coolness emanating from him they could feel brush against their jackets, it was the sudden smile.
It simply didn't fit.
The young man stood up, and the people gave him an even wider berth, herding their children to their sides.
