Author's Notes: Hey, again. I've revised a few things, really small, but I needed to fix it up a little. Erk. Ahh, well. I also changed the title, which is sort of misleading, but I really hated it. Sorry! Please, tell me if you like!
Disclaimer: Not mine. So there.
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Obscurity
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Only salt and water. Tears are small, insignificant, and oh-so unobtrusive. They sneak up to you, slow and sweet. Like rain. They give a release from pain, yet they cause shame.
Long ago, my tribe thought they were a part of the souls of human beings. Crying meant losing a part of yourself, and so they were collected and consumed by the individual who had shed them. Therefore, regaining that part of yourself.
Tears can be foolish. Yet, I am crying. I am in my dark room, sobbing so quietly that the only proof I have of my weakness is the dampness of my cheeks.
It is childish, I know. I lost my Ranma before I ever truly knew him. I tried very hard not to love him. Love, real love, is another weakness. (I collect them these days.) I knew that another held his heart, and I, fool that I was, continued my tempestuous pursuit of him. To be completely honest, it never occurred to me that I would lose, in the end. Surely, I thought, he understands that love is not a requirement for marriage. How wrong I was. Ranma believes, as I have recently discovered, that the sole reason for marriage should be love.
And he has never loved me. Not I, a woman who cannot even speak his language correctly. A foreigner. Beauty, though alluring, is not always the deciding factor.
Perhaps it was too much to ask. A loving family; Ranma and I living in a cute house in the village, having adorable children together that would look like a mixture of the two of us.
Such things have been too much lately. Too much worry for me, too much pain. Occasionally, too much regret. I regret that I wasn't stronger on that long-ago day when Ranma showed up in my village, that he hadn't become another faceless person I'd defeated. And yet, even that would be too much. If I had won, if the red-headed girl called Ranma had simply lost, the man called Ranma would not have let that stand. Naturally, he would have trained until he could beat me. My Ranma does not lose, especially to a female.
It is odd, to love someone as I do; loving him and hating myself with so much intensity that the lines become blurred into obscurity. Then, I can only wonder, do I hate myself, or hate him? Do I hate us both?
Last week, our rival Chinese restaurant closed down. There was a fire in the kitchen, and the damage repairs would have cost more than the entire restaurant was worth. It had always been a bit more popular than our modest cafe, especially with teenagers, so now we have more couples to serve, young people on dates. I look at them, at the love that radiates from their eyes, and I wish it was Ranma and I sitting in those rickety chairs. Fortunately, we're also much busier than usual, so I can usually lose myself in my work. Take order, seat people, take another order, deliver food. I can avoid looking at specifics. That helps a little.
With the new influx of customers we've been getting, our small cafe has been extremely overcrowded these days, and Grandmother has been asking me if we should buy a larger building, or sell out completely. I know why she asks me these questions, and they make me feel slightly ill. A larger building would mean we would have a bigger sense of security here, but mostly a feeling of permanence, however tenuous. We would be admitting that we were here to stay. To sell out would mean we were giving up on my future marriage, would mean we were going home. It is much kinder than I had expected from her, to actually give me a choice.
It would probably surprise Ranma to know that she would never force me to marry him, or be held in any dishonor if I did not. In our tribe, women need to feel superior, and Grandmother and I know Ranma would never conform to our standards. That is enough to get out of my obligation to marry him. Mousse would love to let that small bit of information out so Ranma would feel no responsibility to keep our engagement for my sake, but our laws also forbid anyone release certain parts of the village rules.
I have found that I am always unable to respond to my great-grandmother when she asks the question that has me so on edge. Either way, I defeat myself. If I stay, I will watch him become even closer to Akane. If I leave, I will never see him again. It seems such a simple choice; leave. Leave, and save myself further heartbreak.
If I leave, I will never see him again. Him; his confidence and his grin. Oh, his grin and his laugh. The way his eyes light up when he's happy, and even how he looks when he is furious with me. His body. Especially his body. That is enough to keep me poised eternally indecisive.
Sitting here on my bed, I wish desperately that the legends are true, as each droplet falls from my cheek to soak into my coverlet, unconsumed. Then I could have some hope left; that I could lose the part of my soul that belongs to him.