------------------------------------------------------------------------- * Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction * Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction * Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction * ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Switch Epilogue (22 Secret Herbs & Spices) by Nikholas "Switch" F. Toledo ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Please do remember that Ranma 1/2 is a trademark and a copyright of and by some big name people and companies I am not even worthy to introduce. Anybody who says that I took any of their stuff better not find me hiding. Also, great thanks to whoever reads this and likes it, good thanks to whoever reads it anyhow, and teeny-weeny thanks to whoever else even saw this. I guess it's all over now except for the crying. Kudos. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- The end was near. Ryoga sat up on her bed, and stared at the window. It was a beautiful day, with the sun dipping from its noontime throne. Unlike the real summer, it was already at its peak a bit away from the ceiling of the sky. The only clouds in the air were wispy, cottony effects drawn in, spreading the blue evenly along the rest of the heavens. He tried to stand up, but her arm stopped him. It was actually his idea, the bandanna tying their wrists together. The last time he did this, it was in a fight with Ranma. "Now, you can't run away." He didn't want to leave Ukyo. He didn't want to walk away from her. He just wanted to relieve himself. From the looks of things, he was already keeping it in for a good half-hour or so, when he woke up sneezing. Sweat was already making his shirt wet and anything wet was making him antsier by the second. He didn't want to look at Ukyo, contenting himself with the fact that she was sleeping soundly, not hiccuping, not crying, sounding as satisfied with the world at large as anyone asleep would. He knew – knew! - that, once again, under that wraparound she was au naturel waist up, and much as she was not flaunting it, he'd had enough experience to know that if he turned now, he'd probably have more of a look than any peeper would have the amazing fortune to have. It was the first time that he slept with someone in his arms. Well, she was the first person that he had slept with (just sleep) that he felt completely, utterly at peace sleeping with, this their second time, apparently. With Akane, he was fully and utterly embraced (when she wasn't in deep sleep – otherwise, he was pretty much a stressball), but he never got to hug her back, and that was (he would never tell anyone) the most horrible thing to feel. If there was something that Ukyo seemed to love doing in her sleep, it was hugging someone tightly and rolling around with them. When she did that hours earlier, he could do nothing but hug her tightly back – and was immediately reminded why he didn't want to do so. Much as Ukyo's torso was enviably muscled, lean yet meaty, there was quite a bit of less tight, much softer flesh that tended to bounce instead of resist, and cushioned well on his chest and along the sides of his arms as they tumbled. Funny thing was that it must've been the second time he was wrapped as tightly as that with someone was with this kid way way back. This ninja kid. He wrinkled his nose. They got tied up in his rhythmic gym ribbon. He just made sure to cut themselves out of it when the ninja kid fell asleep. Instead of discarding the ribbon, Ryoga used to wear it as a headband, before he got the bandanna on his trip to China. Why would he be so sentimental about a ribbon anyway? Because that ninja kid was the first girl he'd slept with? Feh. She even wore a bow tie in her hair. Bow tie? He made the mistake that he'd made often enough and confirmed that Ukyo had nice soft flesh beckoning under her bow tie. Now he had to untie himself to dispose of the nosebled-bandanna in the waste basket. Then he smelled it – perfume. Mousse couldn't believe his eyes. Which was okay, because that usually got him into trouble, anyway. What was so unbelievable was that the fifteen-year-old girl in front of him now was his master and mentor for the last fourteen years. Cologne finally finished combing her luxurious black hair, which stretched down below the hem of her dress, which now clung to her bottom. He could not bring himself to ogle her, although she was pretty much ogle material. He tried to convince himself by reasoning that the last time Cologne looked like this, the world had not even seen a camera then. The way that the Amazon matron was eyeing herself was not helping his composure one bit. At least she stopped at trying to gauge what bra size she'd be needing to purchase. "Not bad," she said. And then she fixed her eyes on the seated Mousse. Then, slowly, she bent her knees forward. And then some more. And then she leaned back too far and fell back, legs in the air. She cackled, which now sounded like a throaty delighted laugh. "Haven't done that in a while." She arranged herself, and leaned her knees on the ground first, seating herself the same way Mousse was seated. She closed her eyes, and Mousse followed suit. The next few moments were not going to be easy, and they both wanted to be able to still the emotions that were going to make it worse than it needed to be. He breathed out deeply. She did so, as well. "Mousse of the Joketsuzuko (Amazon) tribe," she started in a stately tone, enunciating the parenthesized word rather obliquely, "you have stolen an assortment of secret herbs and spices from the stores of the Cat Cafe, a local outpost and embassy of the Joketsuzuko (Amazon) tribe. In this list," she turned the list around, so Mousse can read it normally, "are the items that have been found missing. Do you deny this charge?" Mousse gave the list a once-over. "No, Elder." "These herbs and spices were also found to be used by unauthorized parties, identified as Kasumi and Akane Tendo, in a competition against a member of the Joketsuzuko (Amazon) tribe, Shampoo." She noticed the variety in expression that fleetingly happened upon Mousse's face. "As you were the last authorized handler of these properties, you are responsible and liable for any misuse. Do you deny this charge?" "No, Elder." He sat unmoved. "Finally, you had interfered with Shampoo's participation in the challenge to the marriage of Akane Tendo to Ranma Saotome, which is an official action of the Joketsuzuko (Amazon) tribe, sanctioned and monitored by an Amazon Elder." She sighed. "Do you know what would've happened if Akane had eventually married son-in-law?" Mousse ventured, "Shampoo would have given Akane the kiss of death and would've killed her or else be killed?" She shook her head. "In the case of official action not hosted by the tribe, Shampoo would have forfeited all rights to marrying son-in-law as a secondary wife." She didn't add that Shampoo might have had to carry the stigma of defeat by an outsider woman for the rest of her life, as long or as short as that would have been. "As though being anyone's second fiddle would have suited her." Mousse snorted in derision. "By then, I would have told her to consider marrying you, child." This Cologne said softly, calmingly. It seemed to work, because Mousse did not react in the slightest. "You are still the tribe's undisputed Master of Hidden Weapons, as your mother was before you." That, however, made him cringe a bit. "I know that she was Mousse before me. She will be Mousse once more." He knew what to expect, and was ready, or he was hoping that he was ready. Again, Cologne's raven tresses shook side-to-side. "Not quite." Here she looked Mousse in the eyes. "As you are a member of the Joketsuzuko (Amazon) tribe, the law should exact its entire weight upon you for your actions. However, as a man, and to be born of an outsider, there are leeways that are taken into account." She smiled, a tug of bitterness in the corners. "Men were not made to live in a world run by women - just as women aren't made to live in a world run by men. I, as Joketsuzuko Elder and Ambassador of the Chinese Amazons, hereby strip you of your rank of Mousse, Master of Hidden Weapons, and revoke your affiliation with the Joketsuzuko (Amazon) tribe. Your possessions you may keep, including everything you have packed in there." She pointed to his robe. "You have earned it, through service, son. Including whatever you chose to take in spite, so including all the herbs and spices that started this inquiry." "You'll just let me take them?" Ex-Mousse was incredulous. "I thought you'd -" "- have you executed? Over leaves, twigs, roots and fragrant flowers? You do know that we grow those by the acre back in China. They are not important. What IS important, Mousse," she intoned, "is why you're HERE." "Why am *I* here? At the Tendo's house? Kasumi brought me home." Even to himself, the half-Amazon sounded smug. "Not here, now. Why are you in Japan, Mousse?" He stopped in mid-smirk, then started to darken his expression. "That's right. You went here after Shampoo. And I let you stay because of that. And you were always free to leave. But, didn't you have a conversation with your mother before you left the village?" The nearly-blind man wondered why this was important right now, but he tried to comply anyway. He tried to remember, and it was hard because he couldn't see clearly, and he did have on his glasses. "We... had a fight." He seemed hesitant to continue, but he did that. "A long, drawn-out fight. She didn't want me to leave the village, to leave her...," realization was dawning on his features slowly, "... until I mentioned that I was going here, to Japan, to Tokyo, to Nerima." "Exactly," Cologne demurred. "In fact, by that time, she was whole-hearted in her support of your trip." "She *wanted* me to be in Nerima," he stated the obvious, then asked the default follow-up. "But, why?" "Why, Mousse, did I laboriously teach you and your mother Japanese? Why would I bother to teach an Amazon who spend his entire life in the village the language of an *outsider*?" His eyes widened suddenly, and he was bowled over with the knowledge. "My... father? Is he... in Tokyo?" Cologne's encouraging eyes gave him a logical push. "Is he... in Nerima?" Cologne finally smiled, something radiant. "That he is, son. But not right now. But your siblings are here." "My siblings? My... brother? Twin brother? And little sister?" "Yes, yes, and you just met them again today." There was a wicked gleam in her eyes. "And I think your little sister Kodachi will make for a fine Mousse, don't you, my dear Kara-tachi Kuno?" He was on the roof again, of course. He did not want to leave - could not leave - not now, not ever, not ever, ever again. He could not leave her. "Akane..." He did not think that she could hear his step, imperceptibly loud on the shingles, but she did - she knew it all along. That was why she finally came out, on the roof. "Akane," he repeated, "everybody's been worried sick about you... I mean, you left so fast." "Who..." she finally said, stretching the vowel to its faint loss. "Who... did you marry...?" "No one..." Ranma quickly said, stopped where he was by her pointed and mildly rhetoric question. "Shampoo didn't come back, and the Kodachis didn't try nothing." "Happosai..." she said, biting off the name of the lech as though he was passed away, wistfully. "He... he said..." Ranma traced downward slides along her cheeks. "You've been crying..." "No..." She tried to summon more strength, but her voice lacked the backbone, the solid earth, the very reality to it - its very core, weak. "Yes. Yes - Ranma..." "I'm here." It was the first time that he had not pulled away, the first time that he had taken her hand, held her shoulder, cared for her, CARED FOR HER, DAMMIT, given her the brass ring... She sobbed into his shoulder, tears that were warm and full of love and life and what-ifs, tears that would have changed him, changed him from the boy she had never thought he'd be, back into the man she had always known to be her love, her one. "W-Wicked..." she muttered, "F-F-Fate..." He held her head, gingerly rubbing the strands of her hair, smelling her thoughts, knowing her soul, wishing he could do something, anything... But there was no monster, no kidnapping, no technique, no grabby female, nothing but past catching up to them. He loved her - HE LOVED HER - the only truth that mattered at this point - did not matter at all. His whole truth, his whole life, was a lie. The man he knew as his father was a complete stranger. And the woman he would risk life and limb for, the woman that had already done so, just to know if she had loved him, too (and she did), would be taken away from him - never to return, yet never to leave his side. Akane never thought she would ever see him cry. She did not see it, no, but he was crying, sobbing into her hair, burying himself. She sniffed, as well, but knew that he was hurting much worse than she herself had ever hurt. She ran her hand along his back, feeling the unevenness of his breathing. Her own sobs were trailing now, and a last sniffle, before she awkwardly tried to reach up and put a hand to the back of his head. He didn't notice, and he just continued to shed the tears that ran down beneath the bridge of their intimacy, troubled water. He sobbed carelessly, fully, and at one point Akane just wanted to sit upright and hold him in her arms until he would stop crying, but she knew that he would never want her to see his tears, never want her to hear him say those words... "I love you," he whispered, and she knew, knew, too late... as if having heard them would change the wrongness, the mockery, the hypocrisy... I love you, too, Ranma, she mouthed into his shoulder. I love you, I love you, I love you... maybe if she said them often enough, they would be true, truer than true, enough to wash away the last hour, the last year, the time when her father had given him life... and he wouldn't be here. Neither would she, on the roof, so terribly, terribly in love with the man whose words and actions hurt her most, but whose eyes she would have forever stared at, whose arms she would have never left, if they would just take her away... Her lips found his, softly, pleadingly, embracing him as deeply as she could, only a hint of never in her kiss. It met a tear as it crossed the point of his mouth, like a handkerchief when she herself had none left dry. But his sadness, his soft bitterness, the cold that he felt at the pit of his stomach - she wanted it, she wanted to swallow it and show him her own. She caressed the edge of his mouth, opened her lips a little more, then a little more, trailing along his thinning lips, hoping that he wouldn't shut her out now. She felt light, knowing that she was falling over the edge, his hand slipping from hers, and the tears came back, and she shook in a low, terrible shudder, as her kisses couldn't touch him... He caught her in a strong, deep, simple kiss. Akane felt his arms tighten around her fiercely, and he was shaking, too, lost, afraid, but his only safety was in her arms, in her eyes, in her loving kiss. Almost apologetically, he kept their mouths locked seconds longer than they both wanted, but in a shared warm breath, they kissed again, softer, feverish, rubbing against and along each other... "You CANNOT be serious." The reception room now looked as pristine as it usually did when there was no threat to the sanctity or the sanity of the Tendo household. This was one of those crises that kept it messiness outside the realm of simple housecleaning. "It is NOT fair that you two will NOT just clear things UP so that the two little LOVEbirds can get married." Nodoka just supped her tea, and turned her head to look at Soun. The Tendo head was back to his old hairstyle and his old gender, looked about as grim as he could look. "Listen now, Nabiki." His daughter shrugged back and crossed her arms across her chest. "Unless you are going to tell me that you are going to get that Shinto priest back here to finish the wedding ceremony, I am not interested." She sat back, and waited for her father to continue his statement, but he trailed off. Nabiki sighed loudly, and leaned forward. "Look, I understand that you guys wouldn't want to see them get married so soon, what with what they were doing in the dojo in the wee hours of the morning, but we had that whole 'come one, come all' competition, and it would just NOT do any good if the others thought that EVERYTHING was back to status quo here. And they WANT to tie the knot, guys." She shifted to negotiator. "If you guys are concerned that they'd just be at each other like minks in heat, we'll just have them keep sleeping in separate rooms and keep the wedding hush-hush until they graduate." She waited for a reaction, but none was forthcoming. "Oh, come on, guys! You can't SERIOUSLY be suggesting -!" Mr. Tendo was terse. "You know full well, Nabiki, that I would be the last person to keep Ranma and Akane from getting married, thus ensuring the future of the Tendo School of Anything-Goes Martial Arts. The master himself seems assured that Ranma must, in fact, be my son, and correctly surmised that if I was doused with the same cursed spring water that has plagued Ranma, that my hair would turn a damning crimson." He lit a cigarette, and puffed on it thoughtfully. "As this by itself was circumstantial evidence at best, and if it was entirely impossible for such a feat to have happened, I would be quick to dissuade everyone." He turned to Nodoka. Nabiki's eyes widened considerably. "IF it was impossible?" She looked at the two adults, and covered her agape mouth. "You... you two... had...?" "It IS ironic, really," Nodoka said. "The first Anything-Goes Martial Arts Marriage Challenge was *my* wedding. And I was supposed to marry my sweetheart." Then she turned to Soun once more. "OH ... MY ... *GOD* ..." Nabiki uncovered her mouth, the smile completely candid. "Dad, Auntie - I never knew!" She pulled out a small black book and started scribbling. "My family is SO entertaining!" "Your family is SO entertaining, Miss Tendo!" Kasumi eyed the other twelvish(-looking) girl with a fair amount of sharpness. It didn't help that she was trying to interpose herself between the teacher and the now mid-teen Tofu, who had his glasses tucked away with his gi, all of which was now in a plastic bag he was carrying. She had to admit, Ranma's ignored school uniform fit him well. The four students, who they were accompanying, were hanging behind, and Daisuke was nattering about how the three brown-haired people in front of them were all older than they themselves were, and how one could easily mistake them for siblings, if not close relations. Hiroshi was still a little drained, and was draped in-between them, and Yuka was still very much affected by the day's proceedings. Hikaru, of course, was lagging further behind, but Daisuke did not feel up to bringing his oft-time arcade partner into the circle. He felt feverish, he felt giddy, he felt sick to the pit of his stomach. He wanted to get out of this damned dress, because it was starting to leave a crease line along the tops of his thighs, and how did they get so big? And he hated how he seemed to be pulling it down every ten steps, how drafty it felt, and how uncomfortable it felt while he walked. He had newfound respect for Shampoo and anyone who's ever had to wear a dress for which he'd so often thanked the God of Designers. He had added respect for Ranma – the guy could roll with the punches, and this kind of sucker punch could leave any guy crying "low blow". But the three in front of them, he thought, they've all had their bodies mucked with as well. Who, as Hiroshi would no doubt put it, was at a greater advantage: he, who could (theoretically) explore the greatest and most wondrous final frontier; or, they, who could relive the days of their youth with the view of mature adults? Not that he would, y'know, explore his feminine side, because Yuka would definitely not approve. It wouldn't be fair, is all. And not because he could do it, while she couldn't, it... it would just be wrong. So why was he so bothered by the fact that Hiroshi would quite eagerly and handily do the exploring on himself, if he could? Daisuke wondered if his family would now need to get a bathtub. God knows a trip to the public baths was now impossible. It would have surprised him to find out that Yuka was also thinking about a trip to the public baths as well. The door slid open. "No!" The door slid closed, and a body blocked the doorway. "Get out of the way, Ukyo." He didn't want to sound so savage, but he really was in a hurry. "I can't BELIEVE you'd want to help Ranma get married to Akane." "It's a CHALLENGE, Ryoga!" She was too groggy, too damned groggy. She leaned forward, and he caught her, easily, but she did not move more than that. "If Akane wins... I didn't want Akane to get hurt!" "You wouldn't have hurt her, Ukyo." For a moment, his fingers touched her neck-band, and he drew his fingers just as quickly. "But what if Ranma... or Mr. Tendo, or Ranma's father... what if, what if -?" "What IF, Ryoga!" Ukyo pushed him back, onto the counter around her grill. "What if we just let things HAPPEN?" She held his shoulders. "What if we let today pass BY, and THEN find out?" He saw her eyes go wild, darting along his face, hopeful. "WHAT if, what IF, what if..." Her hands flew to his neck, his nape, manic, trailing, and she buried her face in his hair. Again, a moment, his eyes were on her bow, on her lovely neck, and for all the world he wanted to take her in his arms, to kiss her and to make her promises to make her happy, to start and to end in a lie. He stood up straight, and pushed her to a side. "What if we stay together, Ukyo?" He let her hair tangle in his fingers, then drew them away. "Is THAT why you threw the invitation in the trash, Ukyo? For," he pointed vaguely along a line connecting them, "us?" A pause. "There IS no 'us', Ukyo. We've always been after them, all this time. Even after this time." She had her head bowed. "That, that's..." "Wrong? Am I wrong, Ukyo? Will you tell me you l- that you need me more than you need Ranma? Or that I, I can be happier with you than I would be with Akane? How would WE know?" He wanted to stop. He wanted to stop her tears as they fell. He wanted to take his words back, but he knew they needed to be said. He wished she would slap him, or beat him up, or even curse at him, but she was beyond that, she was in a world of tears and sorrow, and he wanted her to come with him, he wanted her to assure him that it was right to do what was right, and not be burned by her sobbing, her wailing, her short shuddering breaths, her wordless tears that screamed at him to do what he damn well pleased. So he ran out before she saw him cry for her. He even got a block away before he tripped himself, turning around in mid-stride. He slipped and rolled backward, curling into a ball until he crashed into a wall. I'm sorry, Ukyo, I'm sorry. Ranma'd better appreciate you. I'll kill him if he makes you cry like that. Then Ryoga head-butted the wall as hard as he could. "WRERH?" "Eh?!" To Ryoga's surprise, a completely naked pale teenaged girl was standing beyond the now-ruined wall. To Ryoga's additional surprise, the girl looked pleased to see him, turned and jumped on him. It was only when she was rubbing his side with her naked belly that he noticed that the right half of her body was completely dark-toned. "What in the world is going on?" Then he promptly nose-bled and lost consciousness. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- (Detach here) I don't buy everything I read I haven't even read everything I've bought I don't cry every time I bleed My eyes are dry but they're bloodshot I have faith in medication I believe in the Prozac nation You play doctor but I've lost patience This is where it ends Yeah, this is where it ends ~ Call the police and call the press But, please, dear God, don't tell my friends This is where it ends This is where it ends Where's my pride? Where's my self-esteem? Does it show in the things I've bought? I don't hide every time I'm seen But I try not to get caught I make excuses for behavior Can my illness be my savior? Kept my heart while you still gave yours This is where it ends Yeah, this is where it ends ~ She says she wants to live in a movie I say I want someone else To stand behind me and write it all down 'Cause I can't be bothered doing it myself And I don't want the responsibility Of proving its importance I have learned; I have waited Been picked up and I've been sedated Mental health is overrated This is where it ends Yeah, this is where it ends ~ - "This is Where It Ends" by the Barenaked Ladies from the album "Born on a Pirate Ship" Kara-tachi is probably the best sword-related term that I can glean from Google, because being named Katana Kuno or Nodachi Kuno is just plain kooky. "Kara-tachi" is an early style of sword and means Chinese sword. Well, no apologies, no regrets. It was a fun ride, and I've always wanted to relinquish the driver's seat halfway. I do that at karaoke. Hope whoever out there that is reading this is mad, because that's the point. It wasn't the point when I started, but you should never expect the point to be the same, especially when essayed the way I have. Read, write, wonder why, and never forget to say thank you. (Detach here) -------------------------------------------------------------------------
