Disclaimer: Ranma ½ is property of Rumiko Takahashi. The characters are being borrowed for the purposes of this fic, which is meant for entertainment only.
Warning: Remember the angst I warned you about last time? Well, it's still here. Lots of it. ^ ^
Memories are just where you laid themDrag the waters 'til the depths give up their dead
What did you expect to find?
Was it something you left behind?
Don't you remember
Everything I said when I said
Don't fall away
And leave me to myself
Don't fall away
And leave love bleeding in my hands
In my hands again
And leave love bleeding in my hands
In my hands
Love lies bleeding…
~Fuel, "Hemorrhage"
Ryoga ran through the streets, half-blinded by tears, not knowing where he was headed and not caring. It hurt far too much to care about something as trivial as a destination, so long as it was far from there. He paid no attention to what was around him; the physical world seemed to have shattered along with his heart, disappearing into the haze of pain and despair that now comprised his existence.
So he ran on and on, as though he might be able to escape from the traitorous agony that stabbed at his soul like so many pieces of broken glass, dashing through the streets in the fading day towards nothing.
And if he happened to get hit by a truck on the way, then so much the better.
Ryoga kept going until he reached the river, the sunlight sparkling on its surface cutting through his veil of tears. Recognizing the place, he ran towards the bridge that spanned the water and down the embankment below. Underneath, the single support bent inwards for several feet to form a hollow metal L. Anyone passing, even someone on the other side of the river, would see nothing, if they even bothered to look in the first place. Ryoga fairly threw himself into the corner, where he curled into a ball and let the tears come in earnest.
How could he? That was the salient question in Ryoga's mind as he cried in the fold of his arms, his entire body wracked by sobs. How could Ranma have done such a thing? Ryoga knew that Ranma didn't like him, the teasing and insults and tricks showed that clearly enough, but this? This was far beyond it all. He'd been completely helpless, knowing barely anything more than his name, yet Ranma had still taken the opportunity to be mean, to humiliate him. Lying to win his trust, then acting nice to him so that when Ryoga learned the truth, it would crush him even more. It was bad enough that he'd been inconsiderate to Akane throughout his memory-less haze, and the knowledge that she knew about P-chan was enough to tear him apart, but it was the heavy feeling of betrayal that was the most painful. It shredded him down to the deepest part of his inner self, slashing and tearing at him from within. Ranma had misled him, completely and cruelly, and no one else had even bothered to tell him! None of them cared enough to even bother, not Akane or even Ukyo, and Shampoo and Mousse had even gone so far as to try and use him. Knowing that he meant so little to all, these people that he'd let himself care about on some level or another, was too much for his fragile emotions to take.
His thoughts too disjointed to do anything else, Ryoga stayed hidden in his tiny corner by the river and cried endlessly; not noticing the dance of the sun's final rainbowed rays upon the water as night began to creep in, folding around him like a protective blanket that had, regretfully, come too late to shield him from harm.
*
Ranma shot a dark look towards the ancient Amazon matriarch poised on her wooden staff beside the koi pond in the Tendos' yard.
"Don't try to pin this on me, you Old Ghoul! Amazon cure for amnesia—whose bright idea was that? If you were gonna bluff with it, then why the hell didja bother to make the real stuff anyway?"
Cologne narrowed her eyes at him. "Because some people thought that giving Ryoga a cure would be helpful to him," she answered dryly. "Especially since you chose not to help him yourself."
Ranma's scowl deepened. "I was about to tell him everything, 'til all of you showed up!"
Cologne hmm'd in annoyance. "Son-in-Law, the cure was made to be used only after things had been explained to him, either by you or by us, if you hadn't agreed to the terms. The event that he was cured now happened to be purely by mishap."
"Besides, if you hadn't lied to him in the first place, this wouldn't have happened," Mousse added accusingly.
Ranma turned on him, his eyes flashing. "Who are you to talk? You're the one who switched the damn vials, you idiot! And don't go callin' me a liar; not with all that junk you were tryin' to get him to believe that first day!"
"The difference, Ranma Saotome, is that you're the one who made him believe it, not me," Mousse retorted.
"Why you-"
"Stop it!"
Both of the young men leapt out of the way as a huge mallet slammed down between them. Akane yanked it back off the ground and glared at them furiously.
"I can't believe you! Arguing like two-year-olds over who's to blame! Did it occur to any of you to go and look for him?!" she demanded.
Everyone blinked at her silently for a moment.
"Uh…that might not be a bad idea," Mousse said nervously.
Akane glanced around at everyone for a moment. "Then let's go," she said decisively.
"Yeah, right Akane," Ranma said sardonically. "The last time he talked to you, you hit him so hard it knocked him down. I'm sure he'll come runnin' right to you if you find him."
The shorthaired girl clenched her fists, her face contorting in anger. "If you'd told me about 'P-chan' in the first place, it wouldn't have happened!"
Aside from Ranma, everyone's eyes widened. "You found out about that?" Ukyo asked incredulously.
"Of course I did," Akane said. "Ryoga told me."
Ukyo clenched her teeth. That threw a major wrench into the works of any future plans involving Ryoga. Of course, the broken heart wasn't going to help much either. "Rannmaaa…"
The pigtailed boy scowled again. "It ain't like I meant for it happen!" he shouted.
"Oh for heaven's sake," Cologne rasped. "Enough of this. Go and search for him while you still have daylight on your side."
"Is good idea," Shampoo said.
"So let's go," Ranma said impatiently.
"You can't go," Mousse said matter-of-factly, his tone condescending. He tucked his hands into his sleeves.
Ranma whirled to face him. "Who asked you, Duck-Boy?" he snapped.
"He's…got a point," Akane agreed, sounding somewhat contrite.
Ranma faltered, disbelief flickering across his features. "What?"
Ukyo arched an eyebrow. "Well, you said yourself that Ryoga wouldn't take seeing Akane well," she said, "so how do you think he'd react if he saw you?"
"You're probably the last person he wants to see," Mousse added.
Ranma blinked. It suddenly seemed as though everyone there had come to be his undoing in some way or another, all planning to tell and destroy everything or try to gain an advantage. He glanced around searchingly, as though trying to find someone who might be on his side. But it looked as though the only person who had been was Ryoga, and that had ended about five minutes ago. The realization made him swallow hard.
"B-but I…I didn't mean for…it wasn't supposed to…" he stammered, trying to explain.
"Well, what did you think was going to happen?" Mousse asked.
Shampoo glanced up at the sky, noting the sun's lower position. "We should go now," she said.
"Damn straight," Ukyo said. This was nonsense; Ryoga was out running around somewhere, undoubtedly lost and in no condition to be by himself. She leapt up onto the wall. "Maybe you better just sit tight, Ranchan," she said over her shoulder before disappearing.
Akane cast a final look in Ranma's direction, then followed Ukyo. Mousse shrugged and took off in another direction, and Shampoo did the same.
Ranma turned back towards the house, but everybody had either left or gone back inside, leaving him alone in the empty yard.
*
It was more by accident than anything else that Ukyo found him.
Nearly an hour had passed since Ukyo had met up with the others and decided, resignedly, to call off the search until tomorrow. None seemed happy with the outcome—after all, Ryoga didn't even have his pack, which meant wherever he was, chances were he'd be spending the night without shelter. They'd all gone their separate ways; and the only thing Ukyo figured she had going for her was that she was the sole person who wouldn't have to be the bearer of bad news, as she had nothing but an empty restaurant to return to.
It might have been this knowledge that led Ukyo, despite being weary and worried, to continue walking through town rather than heading home. Full night had finally pushed away the last of the twilight, leaving the sky overhead a wash of soft blue-black that faded to deep violet on the horizon, broken only by the scattering of cold white stars. Suddenly longing to be away from the press of houses and buildings, Ukyo headed towards the river.
Had she been on the other side, or even come from the opposite direction, she probably would have entirely missed the form of a boy wearing a dusky yellow shirt tucked in the corner beneath the bridge. But she was on the same side of the river that Ryoga was on, and she approached from the opposite end of the support. She happened to glance over at the far corner as she passed under the bridge, and was startled to find him there, his knees pulled up against his chest with his head resting in the fold of his arms.
"Ryoga," she said, startled to find him after all the searching they'd done. He didn't respond, so Ukyo walked over to him slowly, realizing that he was fast asleep. She stopped when she was still a few yards away so she wouldn't wake him, but even at that distance and in the limited light, she could plainly see the tearstains streaking his face.
She sighed softly, guilt and sympathy washing away her initial relief. Ryoga's clothes were disheveled and dusty, as though he'd been under here for some time, and his expression was pained even in slumber. She wondered what to do—her first thought was to shake him awake and take him home, but she was fairly certain he'd refuse, if he didn't run outright. Trying to knock him unconscious wasn't an option, not with the possible ramifications that came along with it. Finally she looked at the river, contemplating the liquid flow of the glittering silver water for a moment before sighing again. This wasn't likely to go over well either, but she couldn't really think of anything else.
The young woman stepped over to the water's edge, wondering briefly how much of it was needed and how she would carry it back over to where the Lost Boy was sitting. Shrugging, she knelt down and cupped her hands, but then she noticed an abandoned juice can lying a few feet away. Ukyo picked it up for inspection, then pulled one of her small spatulas from her bandolier and used it to shear off the top, leaving her with a sort of aluminum cup. She scooped up as much water as it would hold, then carefully carried it back under the bridge. Pausing to hope that he wouldn't be too furious over what she was about to do, Ukyo tossed the water at Ryoga's face.
Before the newly-awakened P-chan could untangle himself from the heap of clothes, Ukyo caught hold of his bandana and held on tight. Seeing who it was, the piglet began to kick and struggle, letting out noises that were a mixture of indignation and protest.
Ukyo lifted him so she could hold him with both hands, despite his continued wriggling. "C'mon, stop it already," she said.
The piglet let out another bwee of objection. "I know," Ukyo told him, "but you can't be out here all alone." As if to prove her point, the wind blew a chill breeze through, causing him to shiver violently.
"Let's get you home," Ukyo said. "Look, you don't have to talk to any of them if you don't want to, alright?"
P-chan emitted a final sound that let her know that no, it was not alright, but the tone was now more despondent than annoyed. Nonetheless, Ukyo kept one hand on his bandana as she collected his clothes. Tucking the bundle under her arm, she slipped her free hand beneath him so he wouldn't be hanging by his neck. Making sure she had a decent grip on both clothing and piglet, she started the long walk home.
*
The town had fallen quiet with the rising of the moon, and the lack of lighted windows indicated that most of Nerima's residents had gone to sleep.
One of the few that remained awake sat atop the roof of the Tendo home, watching the night as the moon began its journey across the sky. It was cold, but Ranma paid little attention to the chill wind that blew around him, ruffling his inky hair and cutting through his red silk shirt. He was too distracted by his own thoughts to really care.
Ranma lowered his head into his arms for what seemed like the dozenth time that night. It had been hours since Akane had returned home with the report that no one had found any sign of Ryoga, and of the plan to uptake the search again in the morning—another activity Ranma was sure he'd be pointedly excluded from.
Knowing that the Lost Boy was still out there somewhere had him worried plenty, but knowing he was the main reason for it only served to make it worse. Normally, Ranma would try to brush such things off, but there was really no way for him to get around this one—he'd screwed up, and he'd been called on it.
Ranma squeezed his eyes shut behind his arms. Couldn't they see he hadn't meant for this to happen? This had been the last thing he'd wanted, and he'd been about to try and fix things until everyone else had shown up and transformed what was already a mess into a complete catastrophe. It didn't matter to anyone that all of them had played some part in bringing this about. It didn't matter that in some way or another, almost everyone had hoped to turn the situation to their advantage. All that seemed to matter was that he had been the one to cause Ryoga's amnesia in the first place, and that he had been the one to twist the truth from the very start.
And the moment they found out that Akane had learned about Ryoga's curse, they'd assumed that their worst suspicions were true. They figured that Ranma had done it on purpose—another mortifying trick that probably served the double purpose of making Akane dislike Ryoga beyond repair.
Ranma had to admit that it did look bad. But it still stung that no one had even bothered to ask him if it was true. This wasn't what he was really concerned about though—chances were he'd be able to clear himself of it, especially with Shampoo and Ukyo. Akane would take some time, and by then everyone else would've abandoned the issue entirely.
Except for one person.
And the blue-eyed martial artist doubted that he'd be able to mend that, if he ever even got the chance. Ranma tried to swallow down the tightness in his throat. Ryoga had said he hated him before, but he'd never really believed it.
Until now, that was.
And why shouldn't he, Ranma wondered dimly. He never would've done it if he'd known it all might go so terribly wrong, but Ryoga didn't know that. All he knew was that Ranma had deceived him beyond all else, and probably thought it had been done it as some sort of cruel joke meant to ruin his relationship with Akane and humiliate him before everyone.
It's not fair, Ranma thought to himself. He should've known better than to start the whole thing, but just for once he wanted to know what it was like to have someone who wasn't a fiancée or a rival. He was sick of being viewed down a single, narrow track by everyone who knew him, despite what he might do to change their perceptions. He was always the jerk, the enemy, the pervert, the freak, the obstacle, the half-girl, the hated one—all things he'd never wanted to be. And the other side was hardly better—the fiancé, the 'husband', the coveted one, the grand prize. He was never accepted for who he was, but only for who they thought he should be, who they wanted him to be, who they saw him as. He'd just wanted the chance to be considered normal, to be on even ground with someone. When Ryoga had lost his memory, the chance had arisen; but as usual, Ranma had rushed into it headlong without really stopping to consider the repercussions. And now everything was in shambles.
It wouldn't be so bad if he was the only person who would suffer for his mistake, but as with everything that happened in his life, there were other people caught up in the middle. Ryoga, for one, and he took everything twice as hard as anyone else would. Then there was Akane. Akane, who'd found out Ryoga's secret through a total and unprepared shock rather than easing into it as Ranma—and Ryoga too, he figured—would have preferred to do it. Because of him, Akane was hurt and confused, and Ryoga was probably in emotional tatters.
Ranma winced at that particular thought and clenched his fists, his nails digging deeply into his palms. He was sorry for them, but he felt sorry for himself at the same time. No one would listen to him if he tried to explain it all; and even if they did listen, they wouldn't understand. More than ever, it seemed as though no one cared about his own feelings. His father, trying to push him onto Akane; Akane, fighting with him and calling him names; Ukyo and Shampoo constantly treating engagement like it was a competition…it never seemed to stop. Did Akane think he was unaffected by the things she said in her fits of temper, swinging a mallet at him left and right, calling him a pervert and a jerk? Did Ryoga believe that his words meant nothing; that the blame and the accusations didn't hurt? Sure, Ranma put on a front of indifference and an uncaring attitude, and it was true that his fast-healing ego provided a strong shield, but he was still human underneath. Why couldn't any of them even try to understand that?
Somehow, they'd all ended up stuck in a miserable cycle of verbal and physical back-and-forth, a tangle of unintentional insult met with a sharp retort or fists. Other things said to intimidate or anger were met with hurt and frustration. The only thing that had resulted from it was a web of confusion and misunderstanding—Akane jumping to the wrong conclusions, Ryoga bristling with over-sensitivity, all taking the wrong things seriously and the serious things unbelievingly. Ranma felt like he was the center of it all, though most of the time he didn't understand the reactions of the others anymore than they understood his.
It's not fair, Ranma thought again. Life wasn't fair—he knew that, certainly, but sometimes it seemed as though it was even less fair for him than for so many other people. He wondered again what he might be able to do to rectify the situation; and again came up with the answer that, in all likelihood, nothing. But he'd have to try.
Of course, finding Ryoga would be a good start.
Ranma remembered the Lost Boy's pack, still sitting in his bedroom. Akane and the others hadn't found him. That meant he could be out there somewhere, with no food, no shelter, no money, and if he got lost…
How could they have stopped looking?
Ranma shoved himself to his feet and leapt down to the yard. They'd all been right, he was probably the last person Ryoga wanted to see, but what had already happened was bad enough. Ranma didn't need him wandering around hungry and cold and lost with nothing but a head injury and the clothes he was wearing…
He ran off into the night.
*
Ukyo sighed as she dug through a drawer full of old clothes, tossing random articles onto the floor. She held up a dark blue t-shirt for inspection, then stood up, deciding it would have to do. She turned around and picked up the other things she'd set aside, then headed back to the kitchen.
"These should fit you," Ukyo said to the small black piglet sitting on the floor. He let out an agitated sound in response and shook his head. "Well, you can't wear your own," she told him. "I put them in the wash. You got them all dirty sitting where you did, and besides that, they were wet." She picked up a bath towel from the counter and draped it over her arm as she reached for the kettle sitting on the stove.
"It's not boiling, but I guess it should be hot enough to do the trick," she said, turning to the piglet once more. Ukyo started to tip it over his head, but he backed away from the stream of water, letting it splash uselessly on the floor.
"Ryoga," she chided, though she didn't really have the heart to be annoyed with him. He let out an indignant squeal and glared at her.
"I won't look, alright?" Ukyo promised. "I'll give you the towel, and I won't open my eyes until you say so. Ok?"
The piglet eyed her for a moment, then nodded. Ukyo tipped the kettle again, this time closing her eyes as she poured. She turned around to set the kettle on the countertop and unfolded the towel, then held it out to where she assumed Ryoga would be.
"All the shades are down," Ukyo said, still facing away from him. "You can get dressed right here if you want." A reluctant sigh followed by the rustle of clothing let her know that he'd complied.
"All set?" Ukyo asked after a few minutes. Ryoga muttered something that sounded like a yes, so she turned to face him. The Lost Boy appeared decidedly miserable, the impression heightened by his damp hair and the rumpled clothes.
At least they fit, Ukyo thought to herself, somewhat wryly. Lucky that she was tall for a girl and that Ryoga wasn't that big—and that she'd lost the receipt to that pair of pants she'd mistakenly bought in a couple sizes too large. A small thing to go right in such a long day.
"Well?" Ryoga said expectantly, stilling her line of thought. He gazed at her hollowly, his voice flat.
"Well what?" Ukyo asked.
"Aren't you going to hit me or something?" he replied, as though it should have been obvious.
She stared at him quizzically. "Why would I do that?"
Ryoga's expression darkened into a scowl. "It's what you usually do, when something goes wrong," he said.
Ukyo sensed his rising upset. "No," she said quickly. "What happened wasn't your fault."
"That never stopped you before," Ryoga muttered.
Ukyo blinked, feeling stung. Why was he saying these things to her? She'd tried to be nice to him through this entire thing… Then she realized what he meant. He'd remembered all the times she hadn't been kind, the times she had hit him for no real reason other than her own temper or some perceived infraction. She felt her face color slightly with shame.
"I'm not gonna hit you," she said. "I'm not mad at you. If anything, you should be mad."
Ryoga looked away. "Why? It's my own fault for l-listening, and-"
Ukyo stepped forward and put a hand on his arm. "Don't," she said quietly. "Don't worry about all that right now." She led him over to the table and pushed him down into a chair. "Sit down. Let me get you something to eat."
"I'm not hungry," he protested, but she was already setting a skillet on the stove and pulling out a spatula. She went to the refrigerator and took out a bowl of batter.
"You should at least try," Ukyo said as she poured some batter into the pan. "It's late, and you haven't eaten anything in hours. Besides, you were out running around, too. You really shouldn't have done that, you know. Not with hurting your head and all. I mean, it's only been a little over a week." She pulled a plate from one of the cupboards as the scent of cooking okonomiyaki filled the room. "Dr. Tofu would probably throw a fit if he knew," Ukyo continued, trying to gracefully avoid the subject of what had happened at the Tendos'. "Everyone else is going stir-crazy, not knowing where you are. They all went to look for you, though I guess no one thought you'd be hiding out underneath a bridge. I don't think I'll ever understand how you end up the places you do." She flipped the okonomiyaki onto the plate with a deft movement of her spatula. "Here you go. Don't worry, there's not a bit of pork in it."
"I really don't think I…" Ryoga began, but Ukyo slid the plate in front of him.
"I know you're upset, Sugar," she told him, "but anything is better than nothing."
The bandana'd boy glanced up at her, then looked down at the okonomiyaki. It was perfect as always, golden brown with just the right amount of sauce…
Ryoga shoved himself away from the table with his hand pressed over his mouth; then turned and dashed for the bathroom.
"Ryoga?" Ukyo said bewilderedly. A moment later, she heard him retch. "Damn," she hissed, turning to shut off the stove. She waited for the sound of the toilet flushing, then ran around the corner and to the doorway.
"Ryoga?" she said anxiously, catching herself at the doorjamb. He was kneeling on the floor in a heap, pale and shaking, his expression dismayed.
"S-sorry, Ukyo," he gasped, his voice beginning to break. "I-it's not th-that I think your c-cooking is b-bad or anyth-thing, I j-just…" His shoulders slumped as he trailed off, covering his eyes with his hand.
"Oh, Ryoga," Ukyo breathed, kneeling beside him on the cool tiles. She put her arms around him and pulled him close against her as he struggled to refrain from sobbing.
"It's alright," Ukyo said, resting her cheek against the soft warmth of his hair and cursing herself once again for not having told him before this had happened. "Don't cry, Ryoga-honey, please. It'll be Ok, really…"
AN:
You know the routine. But please don't try to convince me that Ryoga's overreacting or something like that—he's not. Not at all. Trust the psych student on this one. And no, this chapter does not guarantee a Ryoga/Ukyo pairing. Matter of fact, it doesn't guarantee much in the way of jack, so…stop jumping to conclusions, O those of you who know who you are.
Itai. ^ ^