-------------------------------------------------------------------------
* 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)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------