I've revised this story into a no-nonsense one-shot. Strong WAFF warning!
=) But not too fluffy... Basically I got tired of Ranma-gets-Akane-upset-
Akane-cries-romantic-settling-of-affairs plot... This time it's Akane who
acts totally immature, and Ranma is his usual holds-no-grudges self, and
Akane is trying to get over her pride so that she could apologize...
By the way, the whole story is based on characters by Rumiko Takahashi the Great =) and the flashbacks I inserted are both based on the anime (until the very last episode) and the manga (until the very last volume) ----
The orange-yellow rays from the window has fallen on my chair now. It's moving so fast, the sun. Great. Even the sun is slowly creeping towards me. Kind of like the way a fat, know-it-all, snobby police officer approaches a kid sitting on the pavement, and you can see from the look in his eyes that he suspects something, that he could almost smell the can of cranberry juice that you shoplifted. I feel like that kid right now, fidgeting with his shoelaces, and scratching his head, knowing that guilt and blame is following his reckless self everywhere, and that he's gonna have to face it, his disappointed Mom, the teases of his schoolmates, et cetera et cetera.
Scared. Haunted.
Now it's halfway between my feet and my chair.
Great. Sunlight is now smirking at me. I was so stupid.
Puffer fish!
I try to block it, but Ukyo's accusing face kept appearing right before my eyes, slapping me in the face like a thick pull-out poster. How she fixed her eyes at me, staring with disbelief to such the idiot that I was—that I am—with her mouth open, but nothing came out. I can see she was struggling. Like she can't even make up her mind in what to yell at me about first: the fact that I was so fing narrow-minded and dense and immature or the fact that I hurt... him... in such a way that I don't have a right for.
I had no right... In front of everybody!
It keeps reeling and reeling in my head like an old movie.
It just happened. It just happened to fast. I was caught off-guard, I was nervous, I got disoriented. I mean, what did he expect? What did anybody expect? I was working my butt off for three hours for that boiled fish soup. I'm aware of such the bad cook that I was. I would totally understand if Sayuri or somebody would take one small sip and just throw up the food of today and yesterday. I mean, I sort of expect that. In a reluctant way, of course.
But I didn't expect him to...
He just took the dish from me and threw the whole contents into the large dustbin in the corner, the one with carrot and potato peels and lobster pincers and foul-smelling radishes are thrown into. It was the kitchen behind the school's main cafeteria, emptied for the day for Home Economics students and volunteers who'd like to use it for the grand event tonight: Furinkan High's first ever Oriental Night.
He just took it, and threw it there.
There were like thirty other people following him. Ukyo and Shampoo was also there too. I didn't understand it then, but apparently Ranma was shocked when he found out that Akane Tendo, of all people, took the basket of fresh puffer fish from Kodachi to the school's kitchen, to cook for the night.
Hmph. Kodachi.
The sunlight is tickling my toes now. The solid chunk of floating gold, now almost demanding me to fix things up with that baka.
Kodachi apparently "presented it as a gift" to Furinkan because the Emperor and Empress of the night has to be chosen from the Furinkan students. "What?" She bellowed. "The Black Rose of St. Hebereke, an unqualified candidate for tonight's nobility? The Black Rose of St. Hebereke, out of competition with these... these... commoners?" She flipped her ribbon and somersaulted to Principle Kuno. "Daddy!" She demanded. But the rules were the rules. Ukyo and Ranma were already eyeing the Principle with looks that fit to kill, daring him to allow his daughter to be a candidate for Empress of the night. Of course, he giggled and tried to cajole his daughter to just be the guest of honor instead. The Visiting Concubine of So-and-so's Dynasty, or something of the sort.
She was so ticked off the she "presented" that puffer fish. Which I practically swooped from Sasuke's hand, and dashed straight to the cafeteria to cook.
How was I supposed to know it was puffer fish?
"Hee hee," he said that day, with that sarcastic smirk of his. The same cocky, over-confident ha-ha that he uses when facing Ryoga or Kuno or Happosai or... well, when he's facing somebody who he's not scared off, doesn't feel threatened by, somebody he's confident he could win the fight over, which pretty much narrows it down to everybody on earth.
Or when he's simply satisfied. That boyish, convincing, know-it-all satisfaction.
"Hee hee. No need to thank me, Akane. I've saved your life and also the lives of everybody in Furinkan before... No sweat..."
I didn't hear Ukyo and Shampoo sigh with relief. I didn't realize that the thirty students behind them heard about the fish also, and they were all just as anxious, thinking that at any given moment I might be tasting some of the sauce of the deadly fish I was cooking and my life was at risk with that one spoonful because I wasn't trained to prepare it properly, to leave out the toxic packs between the layers of the fatty skin.
I wasn't trained. I didn't even know it was puffer fish.
He did save my life. And the lives of every single human being who will eat dinner at Furinkan's Oriental Night tonight. Literally.
He always says he's saving people's lives and his own by preventing them from eating my cooking. How was I supposed to know he was speaking literally?
He threw my cooking into the garbage. In front of a whole classroom of students.
"Violent girl done it now," Shampoo said with apparent disgust in her voice. Also tinted with a little satisfaction in how... wrong I was.
I had no right...
I was so angry.
But I had no right.
I couldn't think straight. It just... happened.
Right after he emptied the contents of that serving bowl, the next thing I knew he was soaking wet, messy with fish scales and stains of all sorts of herbs and sauces and peels, and a bucket was in my hand. An empty bucket.
I swear I don't remember doing that. I mean, not consciously.
Suddenly Ukyo was staring at me with her mouth open, and Shampoo narrowed her eyes at me with loathe and her arms were crossed, and the crowd behind wet onna-Ranma was uneasy and whispering to each other, and Nabiki, as cool as she always was, let out a soft gasp, her eyes wide. Shampoo, who took care of a Nekohanten stand for the night, grabbed at her apron with anger. Suddenly both Ukyo and Shampoo was pointing fingers at me and screaming things I didn't really hear too well—mostly about how what I had done, how I should apologize, who did I think I was, and all that. But I didn't hear it too well, my head was reeling.
Ranma's gaze caught my eyes for twenty seconds, neither of us blinked. And after that, after that... that look, my brain stopped. My heart stopped. Time stopped, I don't know...
It was Nabiki who told me all about it. "There was this bucket of water, for soaking the dirty dishes and ladles and pots and pans in the meantime, to get all the leftovers from the food preparation in the meantime, before they're all washed. You just stomped across the room, to the sink, took that bucket, filled with slime and peelings and all, and soaked Ranma with it."
I totally didn't want to ask what I asked Nabiki next, but I asked it anyway: "Did I... say anything?"
Nabiki tilted her head a little, her face expressionless, reading mine. "Yeah." I felt a punch on my chest, anxious, worried. "You said... well, it was something."
I just looked at her, not wanting to really ask what it was, because I wouldn't want to hear about it, but the questioning, pleading look in my eyes was like a large-lettering picture book that Nabiki can read with ridiculous ease.
"'What is wrong with you, Ranma? Are you satisfied with yourself? Saving my life? What is that? Why can't you just... appreciate? Why can't you just appreciate me? Look at you! Whatever it is that I'm not, we all know what you're not, now don't we? DON'T WE, RANMA?!' That's exactly what you said."
"Then you looked at each other. He gave this... cynical sigh, and simply turned his back on you and walked out. He didn't say a word."
"You broke down, though. You didn't seem to be aware of what you just did, and Shampoo and Ukyo were screaming all sorts of things to your face, they were so angry with you. Your legs just... gave in or something, you just sat down suddenly."
"I can see that you were silently crying, staring at the mess on the floor, the puddle where Ranma stood when you splashed him, but we all decided to just leave you to sort things out, kind of. Ukyo and Shampoo were practically swearing, but they didn't show any signs of physically hurting you, so we left. We were feeling uneasy anyway."
The punches on my chest got stronger as they repeated.
"You were always... so sweet, Akane. Violent, but there was this cuteness, this love-hate relationship, this romance in your little fights. No matter how hard you mallet him, or yell at him, or what a jerk he is in how he says you're a tomboy or such... but to us, to the school, it's just another display, you know, it's sort of harmless. Just your... strange way of showing to each other how close you are, how important one is in the other's life. How involved you are with each other."
"But what you did was... cruel, Akane. Everybody knows about Ranma's curse by now, except that idiot Kuno of course, but for you to expose it as an insult... in front of us all... when all he did was..."
"Save me."
"Yeah. Save you."
I looked up into her eyes, trying to tell her how... mixed-up I felt.
She seemed to understand, thought she didn't say anything either. She only said, "Well, anyway, after that, the next thing we knew, you were already in your room, door closed, and you didn't eat anything except some of the food Kasumi put outside your door. Uncle Saotome said you ran all the way home and went straight upstairs."
My teardrop glowed like small topaz, teasing me with the glimmer, just for a split second, before soaking in my shorts. The sunlight is on my lap now. As if wiggling its index finger at me for not getting up and taking action. Furiously, I wipe my cheeks and got to my feet.
So you dare me? You rush me to fix this tonight?? I asked to the scarlet colors of the dusk. Well, I silently determined, I will. Not because I need to. But because I need him. If he stays like this...
The thought drained my energy with a speed that martial artists would love to master, and for a moment I was tempted to sit on my bed again, cuddle my pillow and weep, as I have been doing for the past 24 hours.
Which doesn't fix problem, of course...
No.
I walked to the mirror and examined myself.
My eyes were puffy and bloodshot. The color of my skin was awful, because I only slept for ten minutes last night, terrified, haunted with this cold, thorny blanket of crummy guilt that was wrapping around me, tighter and tighter...
Guilt is so unfamiliar to me. I was always the one wronged... The one who got hurt... The one who deserves the apology...
That no-energy again. My legs felt weak. I just wanted to sit and hug my knees and mope. My hand felt so heavy as I sweep my hair, frustrated, away from my face.
Whatever. He never does judge people from how they look, right?
I opened my drawers and took out a long rectangle box. It was very beautifully decorated, with curls and swirls bordering all the sides, and Ai, the character for Love, engraved in the middle. I opened it and looked at the chopsticks inside. The sweet smell of bamboo greeted me.
They were ordinary chopsticks, also made of bamboo. They were neatly placed side-by-side on a piece of red velvet, red being the Oriental color of good luck. But you can see by the carved decorations that they were the sorts of chopsticks that you collected, and displayed on your cutlery cabinet, or as a hair ornament maybe. A little longer and thicker than your usual dining chopsticks.
The larger end of the chopsticks, the end where you hold it, had a flat engraving, a long oval shape, blank; the space for a name. About halfway of the box, on either side of the pair of chopsticks, were a piece of string, untied.
"They're Matchmaker Chopsticks," Nabiki told me. "It wouldn't hurt to try."
A whole sack of it sat in a corner of my room, but all 80 or them already head my name engraved on one and Kuno's on the other. The Chinese Astrology stand that night had an assortment of things that are supposed to bring you and your lover closer together. With that Magic Lover's Fans, The Love Me Potion, et cetera, et cetera... I felt sorry seeing Sasuke had to carry all the junk on his shoulders.
Nabiki, with her own theory, bought a pair for me. "It's totally silly, of course, but think of it as an excuse. A way for you to show him that you want to be with him. As whatever it is he'd allow you: engaged, friends, siblings, whatever. Believe me, whatever it is that can't pass through his clueless head, this can."
It made sense.
With each pair there was this bag Matchmaking kit, with an engraving tool, a chunk of ink and a brush.
"Experience the discovery of love the ancient way! Proven centuries ago from the deepest regions of the Japan and China..." blah blah blah.
"Engrave your name on one chopstick and your beloved's on the other," goes the instruction. "Then write this message on the inside of the lid: 'My dearest, may I humbly ask you a favor? Bind these chopsticks together and with that you bind me to you and you to me' ". You can write any other message you like, the sweeter and more romantic the better, but always end it with these instructions, or else the power of the chopsticks wouldn't work."
"The Matchmaker Chopsticks symbolizes not only commitment, but agreement to commit. Therefore, they wouldn't work if the chopsticks are engraved and bound together by the same person. It has to be engraved by one person whose name is on one chopstick, and bound by another person whose name is on the other chopstick."
"This is because you can never force love. It just comes to you and from you. But it will go to shameful waste if it is hidden... So use up all your courage—with the help of the Matchmaker Chopsticks—to practically ask permission for love. Who knows; your beloved might just ask, 'What took you so long, my love?!'"
I chuckled a little at this. Picture Ranma talking like that idiot Kuno!
"And remember... to the engraver, don't forget the message! Good luck to you from the Lovers of the Orient!"
Under that there was this advertisement-sort of info about Family Chopsticks and You and Your Boss: Finance Chopsticks and such. Collect them all, blah blah.
I stared on the chopsticks.
How stupid.
I sat down on my desk and started to grind the ink anyway. After that I stood up and turned on the light in my room; the sun has completely set by now.
After watering the ink, I carefully took the brush and generously soaked it with the rich black color. Then I held it above the lid. And thought.
And thought.
And thought.
Finally, I put it down, and took the engraving tool instead. I tested it on a part of my bookshelf to see if it's sharp enough, and began to write.
Saotome Ranma.
Suddenly a dark splotch appeared on the chopstick.
Great, I thought, wiping my tears. Not now. Not now...
I had to put the engraving tool down and cover my face for a while, swallowing the sobs. What's gotten into me? That came out of nowhere...
I sniffed several times and kicked myself for being so pathetic, and took the engraving tool.
Akane Tendo.
Dark splotches again. The Ranma chopstick hasn't even dried from my tears yet.
But I didn't care. I had to finish this.
I took the slab where I ground the ink, and mixed the ink again, even thought it has been mixed and ground as finely as it can be. The whole desk was blurred, I was crying so hard. My hand trembled.
I was so stupid... I was so stupid... I'm so sorry Ranma... This is what you do to me! If you reject me, if you push me away, if I feel ridiculed by you... It just eats me alive.
And now you hate me.
"I'm home!" His voice.
My head snapped up in surprise. It was Saturday evening. The puffer fish incident happened Friday morning, as we all took the day off preparing for the Oriental Night later that evening. To which I didn't come, I couldn't dare. I spent the whole evening—and well into the dawn the next day—with pure and simple regret.
Every thud and thump from the room across the hall, the pressure of footsteps, the sound of someone showering... I couldn't move. I can't think of running into him... I just stayed there until Kasumi gently informed me that Genma and Ranma was going to Nodoka's house that late morning, and asked if I would come.
Naturally, I didn't.
Now he's home.
Suddenly I stopped crying. I took one last disgusting sniff, wiped my face so roughly it must've gone red, and carefully wrote with the brush:
"I'm sorry. Whatever I have become to you, please let me be it still. Please, if you would have me. Whatever I have become to you, whatever it is at all, please don't let anybody replace that..."
"My dearest, may I humbly ask you a favor? Bind these chopsticks together and with that you bind me to you and you to me."
I reread the inscription a few times, as I softly blew the ink so it'll dry, then I closed the lid and walked downstairs to the dinner table.
My legs never felt so heavy.
...
I looked out at the koi pond, but of course I couldn't see anything but that big piece of rock where Ranma and Genma usually spar, before one of them splash inside and turn into their curse and pull the other one in.
I was holding the box in my hand, nervous as hell. Ranma just sat there, calmly, also looking out to the koi pond. The others were still having dinner, I guess. For all I know they might be standing each with their ears neatly above one another, eavesdropping at us, because when I came down to join them at dinner I had the feeling Nabiki explained what happened between Ranma and me, and when I asked if I could talk to him he didn't even take a moment to ask what it was about, ask if he could at least finish his food first.
He just calmly looked at me, put his bowl down, stood up, and walked to the porch overlooking the koi pond.
Now we're sitting here, silent.
What is he thinking? Does he think I'm wasting his time, or something? Or is he expecting and apology? Did Nabiki tell him to expect something? Is he still mad at me? Is he disappointed with me? I want to look at him. What does his eyes say? Why is he so calm? Why did he seem so, so... indifferent? Does that mean he's not giving me a chance? Yeah, maybe he's not. Maybe he's made up his mind. That's why he's not yelling at me or insulting me. There's no more chance for me. Nothing else to say, to argue about. I just asked to talk to him and now he's waiting for me to even begin to try to find another excuse, another reason, to be so... thoughtless.
The wind played with my hair, almost like a tap on my shoulder, whispering, "Well? Go on."
He wasn't even asking what was taking so long. I can't... I don't feel anything... Is he being patient? Understanding? Or tense?
Cold.
He's so cold.
"Ranma, I wasn't... thinking, okay?"
My voice trembled, thick with crying.
There I go again. When did I start crying? Maybe that was why he was so silent. I must've been sobbing all this time and I didn't even...
"It's just... It's just something that you do to me, okay?"
What was it that I rehearsed so many times, up there by the mirror? What was it that I had prepared so neatly to say?
"I just... if you do something that makes me feel like I'm not good enough, at cooking or martial arts or whatever, it just... it hurts, you know, Ranma, it..."
Ranma still wasn't saying anything, but he stood up, walked forward, then sat on edge of the porch, his feet dangling to the ground, his hands propping on either side. And he sighed.
We were sitting side by side before, though with a little space apart, but we couldn't really see each other without really turning our heads. Now I can look at him completely.
Terrific... I struggled as hard as my face muscles can support me to try to muffle the sobbing sounds, and tried to gain control of myself. But I couldn't. I was squeezing my own shorts so hard with anxiety, but now I was back to that all-the-energy-drained-out-of-me state, and my hand was trembling, that the bamboo box slipped out of my hand and landed with a gentle thud by my right knee, as if reminding me that I had to finish the job.
But I know what he meant by that sigh.
You don't think it hurts me? It must've meant. You don't think it hurts me, Akane?
"I'm dumb, Ranma, okay? I lose my temper so quickly..."
I can hear the pitch of my voice climbing, to that wailing, pleading sound of a weeping nine-year-old. It was miserable, but what could I do about it? I am feeling miserable.
"I don't know how to explain this, Ranma, but you... Ranma, you're a very... important person to me, and I totally understand if you choose to... hate me your whole life, but..."
That's how you treat someone important to you? I can almost hear him talking back. As if even his pigtail was pouting at me.
Ranma turned his head a little, to the yard. But just slightly, so that if you weren't in a conversation with him you would've thought he was just casually looking around, enjoying the night air, or something.
I didn't care. It was easier for me to say what I wanted to say with him not speaking back anyway, that's for sure. So what if he wasn't listening.
Ranma always listens to me. I'm the one who always shuts myself from his excuses whenever I get ridiculously jealous or something like that, and mallet him to the ground.
I shut myself in that kitchen too. Worse... I didn't give him a chance to explain.
I probably wouldn't have listened anyway...
Great.
Everything's totally blurred now. I must've read it a thousand times in romance novels and such: "Tears welled her eyes until everything became a blur." I never thought I'd really experience it firsthand... I really... His black hair blended with the dark of the night, so all I can see was the distorted image of his red jacket. I can't even see him. For heaven's sake, I've been half-blind this whole evening, my head feels like a little horse is kicking its hind legs again and again from inside, my eyelids are puffy and aching for swelling so long, I'm exhausted with all this sobbing... and...
For crying out loud, Ranma... Please, just forgive me, okay! Say something! No, don't say anything, if you say something sarcastic I might just shrink to the ground.
I remembered how that dragon's teeth in Ryugenzawa almost crushed him.
"Look, Ranma, I..."
I remembered how he flipped that fishcake on that dreamboy skater's face when he tried to kiss me.
"Ranma, I don't know what came over me, okay!? I was just embarrassed... I mean, you threw it just like that into the garbage, Ranma, okay!? After..."
After all I've done, and after all you've done, after all we've been through... I remembered lying there, helpless, in his arms and feelings his tears drop on my cheeks, softly, like a rejuvenating breath for me.
"I mean, I admit..." (sob)
I remembered when, on the skating rink, he said, "Akane is my fiancé. You touch her, and I'll kill you!"
"I just... Who would've thought..."
I smiled bitterly at my own words.
"Yeah, that was what was wrong, wasn't it, Ranma? I didn't think..." I said, softly. But I'm sure heard that. For all I know, he might very well be just sitting there, not listening to a word I said the whole time.
"Ranma, please forg..."
Then he did the one last thing I needed him to do at the time.
He turned around and looked at me.
I dared myself to look back, but only lasted five seconds.
I looked down and stared at the wooden floorboards of the porch, which I can't actually see with all the tears blocking the way. But I caught a glimpse of his blue eyes... thank goodness I didn't see it clearly either.
If I see hatred or disappointment or... if I saw his eyes at all, I might throw myself at his feet and beg and beg and beg.
Instead, I just wiped my eyes as fast as I could, stumbled to my feet and walked up to him, all the time staring at the wooden porch. I took a deep breath, and stuttered, "For you. It's something silly, but..."
Then I turned on my heels and dashed upstairs.
Genma-Panda, Nabiki, Happosai, Father, and even Kasumi's heads were propped on top of one another, poked through the doorway, eavesdropping at us, as I thought. They rushed to "normal" positions as I passed through, but I didn't care.
Was he listening? That was all I could think of. Did I make sense at all back there???
...
...
...
Tap, tap.
My eyes snapped open. Not that I was asleep. I was still blaming the whole world, of course, my poor pillow being the victim and all.
Tap, tap.
I got up, not daring to hope for it to be him. I rested my hand on the doorknob, trying to calm down my heartbeat before actually opening the door.
I knew, actually, from the second I turned the doorknob. No... I knew from the first knocking sound, I think.
I just... believed in us.
Whatever we was.
I opened the door really slowly, and again dared myself to look at him, but my eyes got blurry again after five seconds anyway.
I think I caught his expression a little. He seemed... questioning. A little concerned.
Gee, how hopeless can I get...?
I just stood there, pathetic, sobbing, when I saw his feet move forward.
"Hey," he said. "We need to talk, don't you think?"
A few aftermath tears flowed freely on my cheeks.
"Akane, you don't have to... I mean, stop crying, I only wanted to..."
His voice seemed so... natural. Like nothing happened. Well, with a little maturity, and carefulness. Gentleness. Like nothing happened.
I wiped my face, roughly of course, I'm so mad at myself for being such a crybaby, but then I felt my hand being gently but firmly pulled away and then he wiped my cheeks with his hand instead, softly.
"Geez, you're even this violent to yourself, Tomboy?"
His voice sounded so ordinary. Like the way he teases me every other hour about my being so shapeless and all that.
Only gentler.
You idiot, I can only get back silently, as my tears flowed even wilder, taking in how mature and forgiving and understanding he was. His hand was still softly patting my shoulder, soothing me. "Enough already, Akane!"
Ranma...
So of course I couldn't help but doing what I did next: I just threw myself at him, wrapped him in my arms, and I can feel him slowly, carefully, hesitantly wrap his arms around me too.
And so I held him. I rested my head on his shoulder and kept repeating, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Ranma... I'm sorry..."
Funny, I mean, my nose is all runny and I kept sniffing but I can still smell him so completely, right up to his hair; I can feel his heartbeat; I kept worrying whether my hair smelt funny from all that crying; and if does, whether it matters... sheesh, Akane, Akane... is this what happens when you're in love?
Akane, you're in love, aren't you...
I could laugh at myself. Serendipity. But...
Did he laugh at me, though? Was that apology too mushy for him? What if he just felt sorry for me? What if he forgives me just because I was so frickin' desperate?? What if he forgives me just because of his sweet nature, because it's... decent? Because of the amazing dignity that he has running through his blood?
I want him forgive me because he... because he loves me.
Sheesh, Akane, you dare to wish that when you're supposed to be thankful to the lord of heaven and earth just cos he speaks to you at all? He's saved your life more times than the frequency of him transforming from male to female and back, and you splashed him and dared him admit that he's not a man???
Now you want him to...
But of course I can't say that. We just stood there, holding each other.
I would've gladly stayed there in his arms till morning, but these strings of paranoid questions just poked at me like a thousand jellyfish stings, gripping me. But I don't dare look at him in the eye yet...
"Ranma... am I... do you forgive me?"
"Huh?" I can feel Ranma's head tilt a little, wanting to pull away and look at me to hear me clearly, but I strengthened my embrace, and just repeated my question a little louder.
Silence.
"Akane, it was... I never thought you could..."
Right. Right. Sweet Akane. The Akane with such perfect manners and morality and conscience, except the occasional catfights with Saotome Ranma.
"I never thought that either, Ranma," I said, turning my head a bit, with the silly impulse that I might just hide behind his neck. "It's so... I'm so ashamed, I mean, you didn't deserve that, Ranma, do you hear me? I had no right at all... I owe my life to you so many times, and I just...
"I owe my life to you too, just as often."
"Ranma, you're just so... righteous all the time, I mean the last thing I need is for you to forgive me just because you feel sorry for me, or because you think you owe me your life—which you don't, because from the many times you pulled me away from certain death you just never seem to think twice so maybe you don't remember that—but I mean, if I were you, I might not want to be in the same house with the jerk that I am anymore, and..."
"You never let me explain, Akane. That's all it ever was. You just never give me a chance to explain."
About anything, I added silently to his sentence. I never let him explain. Not about why he kept pushing me to eat that super soba antidote, not about that time he went into the girl's locker to find the pot for the Japanese Nannichuan, not about why he left hurriedly not eating my cookies but not eating Kodachi's, not about that hug-whoever-sneezes thing that Shampoo put in those buns, not about why he hates P-chan so much—though I still can't understand what in the world that's all about—not about that playboy band- aid, and not about this stupid puffer fish soup.
"But I guess you wouldn't have listened anyway, huh? You would've just malleted me to the ground, or..."
That is it. That is the last straw. I pulled away and from that very comforting embrace—how safe it felt—and looked straight into his blue eyes, taking a deep breath with determination.
Only my desklight was on, so the lighting was dim, but you never have difficulty when looking Ranma in the eye, because whoever dares to, he locks that gaze, with the reflex of finishing every fight and taking care of every detail of battle. He never averts his eyes with just pure ignorance.
So he looked back at me, waiting. I was just about to start this patriotic oath about controlling my temper, never ignoring him again, and convincing him how much he means to me; all I had a chance to say was, "Ranma, I..."
"Don't you ever do anything like that again, you violent, violent Tomboy. It was out of line, okay, it's... just don't ever do anything like that ever again," he cut me off.
Silence.
"Sure, Ranma. If you promise to stay my... my, um... "
Fiancé. Friend. Best friend. Lifesaver. Houseguest, whatever!
"I promise."
"Don't... I mean, don't just go ahead and walk out on me and..."
"Yes."
I splashed him and announced the androgyny that he was, making a big cruel spectacle of it, and he's the one I demand a promise from??
"Ranma, did you forgive me just because..."
Okay, now I'm totally embarrassed. I shifted my eyes nervously to his shoulders, his neck, his tanktop wet with my tears.
"I... I mean, what with your whole manly, martial arts code and all, I mean, I would completely expect you to just forget the whole thing as a righteous act of the day or something..."
"Forget the whole thing?"
I was forced to look at him. So I peeked. Trying to catch the expression of a person you're having an argument with really helps, you know. You can sort of detect what you said wrong if his expression turns to disappointment or feel reassured if the emotion decreases a little and that flashing anger in his eyes dimmed. Either way...
And I saw anger.
His arms slowly moved from around me, and settled on his sides. The sudden feeling of being abandoned exploded from inside me like a large pot of boiling water. Shit, it was going so well... Stupid, stupid Akane...
"After Pop's wise choice of reminding me about it every single second of my whole life as an idiotic excuse for building character? After my goose chase with death on the blade of a katana because I might just have to, by word of honor that I didn't even know I made, if Mother knew about this? After Ryoga and Pantyhose Tarou's daily insults and Happosai taking advantage every time I transform and Kuno after me in that form? After Nabiki creating a career out of it? After I tried—tried very hard—every day of my life since then, which was well over three years ago, to just agree with everyone and take it as a big joke but fail to?"
"And then have you thinking so lowly of it too? Announcing it in front of everyone? Forget the whole thing? You, Akane, of all people..."
His hands have curled into impatient, hurt fists. And his eyes haven't stopped shooting that accusing stare at me the whole time.
Ranma, don't talk like that...
"Ranma, I don't think lowly of that, okay?!? I wasn't even thinking at that time, remember! It was you who thought so lowly of me, okay, it was the thought of you thinking that I was so pathetic at every single thing I try to do, it grabbed the common sense out of me, okay!? I'm sorry, Ranma!"
"I never think you're pathe..."
"It just happens, don't you understand? You mean a lot to me, Ranma!"
This time I'm staring at him just as hard. I can see that a little confusion and a little disbelief is forming in his eyes, but I don't care.
"It's stupid Ranma, it's boring to discuss okay, the fact that I can't cook, or swim, or... I just... I can't stand..."
I took a deep breath. I have to say this.
"I can't stand being reminded all the time that I'm not good enough for you, Ranma."
There. Exhale.
Admitting the feelings you've kept under lock and key in your heart so strongly, for so long, is so exhausting. I walked to the bed and sat there, feeling somewhat relieved.
"That's what I've been trying to... that's the thing behind it all Ranma. I can't live with so many people reminding me so many times, Ranma, that you're so much better off with somebody else. Somebody that's so unlike me. Somebody that's everything I'm not. Somebody who..."
Steady, Akane, steady. Calm down. I sniffed a little. I must've looked so miserable. I looked up at him. I couldn't tell what he was feeling. But his expression had softened a little, back to that concern with which he first entered my room.
"I'll be right back," he said, and left. A few moments later he came back. He was holding a rectangle bamboo box, decorated with beautiful carvings. He sat beside me and opened it, practically under my nose.
The string was neatly tied, securing the two chopsticks together. The picture was so sweet the string could've been grinning at me with satisfaction, because it succeeded "matchmaking" us.
I felt as if he opened a jewelry box and presented a wedding ring to me.
I took the box gently from him, scared that the string would probably come loose by itself all of a sudden, or something like that, and managed a small, relieved, shy little giggle. And turned to look at Ranma. I can't tell what he was thinking. He had this Saotome Ranma shine that was always there, confident, coy, playful.
Playful. Play is the keyword.
My smile faded a little and turned to the box. I touched the string gently, and glanced at the message I inscribed for him.
"Do you think I'm good enough for you?"
"What??"
"This curse. You're not the only one worrying about not being good enough, you know."
I stared at him. "No. Definitely not. This curse is, well, a curse. It's not a mistake. It's not your fault or anything. Do you understand me, Ranma?"
He nodded.
"What I said... I didn't mean it the way that you should just think it never happened you know, I mean, I was worried that you..."
"Worried that I what?"
"Ranma," I said, facing him, "are you doing this just because you feel sorry for me?"
I waited, ready for anything. Silence. In the meantime, I was enjoying gazing at him like this. Ranma, Ranma. Do you know how much I think about you each night?
Maybe I was watching him so closely so I wasn't paying attention. Maybe it was because he did it so softly. Maybe because I did it first, not him, cos I haven't been using my common sense in the past three years with him anyway. Whichever one it was, the next thing I knew his lips were on mine.
I couldn't decide what to do first—I lifted one hand to touch his cheek, then pulled it away, then lifted my other hand and carefully stroked his hair, then pulled that away, then lifted another hand and carefully put it on his shoulder...
Impatient, he casually took both my hands in his, and held them, and went on kissing me.
Silly little Matchmaker Chopsticks.
—the end, what happens next is up to your imagination...—
By the way, the whole story is based on characters by Rumiko Takahashi the Great =) and the flashbacks I inserted are both based on the anime (until the very last episode) and the manga (until the very last volume) ----
The orange-yellow rays from the window has fallen on my chair now. It's moving so fast, the sun. Great. Even the sun is slowly creeping towards me. Kind of like the way a fat, know-it-all, snobby police officer approaches a kid sitting on the pavement, and you can see from the look in his eyes that he suspects something, that he could almost smell the can of cranberry juice that you shoplifted. I feel like that kid right now, fidgeting with his shoelaces, and scratching his head, knowing that guilt and blame is following his reckless self everywhere, and that he's gonna have to face it, his disappointed Mom, the teases of his schoolmates, et cetera et cetera.
Scared. Haunted.
Now it's halfway between my feet and my chair.
Great. Sunlight is now smirking at me. I was so stupid.
Puffer fish!
I try to block it, but Ukyo's accusing face kept appearing right before my eyes, slapping me in the face like a thick pull-out poster. How she fixed her eyes at me, staring with disbelief to such the idiot that I was—that I am—with her mouth open, but nothing came out. I can see she was struggling. Like she can't even make up her mind in what to yell at me about first: the fact that I was so fing narrow-minded and dense and immature or the fact that I hurt... him... in such a way that I don't have a right for.
I had no right... In front of everybody!
It keeps reeling and reeling in my head like an old movie.
It just happened. It just happened to fast. I was caught off-guard, I was nervous, I got disoriented. I mean, what did he expect? What did anybody expect? I was working my butt off for three hours for that boiled fish soup. I'm aware of such the bad cook that I was. I would totally understand if Sayuri or somebody would take one small sip and just throw up the food of today and yesterday. I mean, I sort of expect that. In a reluctant way, of course.
But I didn't expect him to...
He just took the dish from me and threw the whole contents into the large dustbin in the corner, the one with carrot and potato peels and lobster pincers and foul-smelling radishes are thrown into. It was the kitchen behind the school's main cafeteria, emptied for the day for Home Economics students and volunteers who'd like to use it for the grand event tonight: Furinkan High's first ever Oriental Night.
He just took it, and threw it there.
There were like thirty other people following him. Ukyo and Shampoo was also there too. I didn't understand it then, but apparently Ranma was shocked when he found out that Akane Tendo, of all people, took the basket of fresh puffer fish from Kodachi to the school's kitchen, to cook for the night.
Hmph. Kodachi.
The sunlight is tickling my toes now. The solid chunk of floating gold, now almost demanding me to fix things up with that baka.
Kodachi apparently "presented it as a gift" to Furinkan because the Emperor and Empress of the night has to be chosen from the Furinkan students. "What?" She bellowed. "The Black Rose of St. Hebereke, an unqualified candidate for tonight's nobility? The Black Rose of St. Hebereke, out of competition with these... these... commoners?" She flipped her ribbon and somersaulted to Principle Kuno. "Daddy!" She demanded. But the rules were the rules. Ukyo and Ranma were already eyeing the Principle with looks that fit to kill, daring him to allow his daughter to be a candidate for Empress of the night. Of course, he giggled and tried to cajole his daughter to just be the guest of honor instead. The Visiting Concubine of So-and-so's Dynasty, or something of the sort.
She was so ticked off the she "presented" that puffer fish. Which I practically swooped from Sasuke's hand, and dashed straight to the cafeteria to cook.
How was I supposed to know it was puffer fish?
"Hee hee," he said that day, with that sarcastic smirk of his. The same cocky, over-confident ha-ha that he uses when facing Ryoga or Kuno or Happosai or... well, when he's facing somebody who he's not scared off, doesn't feel threatened by, somebody he's confident he could win the fight over, which pretty much narrows it down to everybody on earth.
Or when he's simply satisfied. That boyish, convincing, know-it-all satisfaction.
"Hee hee. No need to thank me, Akane. I've saved your life and also the lives of everybody in Furinkan before... No sweat..."
I didn't hear Ukyo and Shampoo sigh with relief. I didn't realize that the thirty students behind them heard about the fish also, and they were all just as anxious, thinking that at any given moment I might be tasting some of the sauce of the deadly fish I was cooking and my life was at risk with that one spoonful because I wasn't trained to prepare it properly, to leave out the toxic packs between the layers of the fatty skin.
I wasn't trained. I didn't even know it was puffer fish.
He did save my life. And the lives of every single human being who will eat dinner at Furinkan's Oriental Night tonight. Literally.
He always says he's saving people's lives and his own by preventing them from eating my cooking. How was I supposed to know he was speaking literally?
He threw my cooking into the garbage. In front of a whole classroom of students.
"Violent girl done it now," Shampoo said with apparent disgust in her voice. Also tinted with a little satisfaction in how... wrong I was.
I had no right...
I was so angry.
But I had no right.
I couldn't think straight. It just... happened.
Right after he emptied the contents of that serving bowl, the next thing I knew he was soaking wet, messy with fish scales and stains of all sorts of herbs and sauces and peels, and a bucket was in my hand. An empty bucket.
I swear I don't remember doing that. I mean, not consciously.
Suddenly Ukyo was staring at me with her mouth open, and Shampoo narrowed her eyes at me with loathe and her arms were crossed, and the crowd behind wet onna-Ranma was uneasy and whispering to each other, and Nabiki, as cool as she always was, let out a soft gasp, her eyes wide. Shampoo, who took care of a Nekohanten stand for the night, grabbed at her apron with anger. Suddenly both Ukyo and Shampoo was pointing fingers at me and screaming things I didn't really hear too well—mostly about how what I had done, how I should apologize, who did I think I was, and all that. But I didn't hear it too well, my head was reeling.
Ranma's gaze caught my eyes for twenty seconds, neither of us blinked. And after that, after that... that look, my brain stopped. My heart stopped. Time stopped, I don't know...
It was Nabiki who told me all about it. "There was this bucket of water, for soaking the dirty dishes and ladles and pots and pans in the meantime, to get all the leftovers from the food preparation in the meantime, before they're all washed. You just stomped across the room, to the sink, took that bucket, filled with slime and peelings and all, and soaked Ranma with it."
I totally didn't want to ask what I asked Nabiki next, but I asked it anyway: "Did I... say anything?"
Nabiki tilted her head a little, her face expressionless, reading mine. "Yeah." I felt a punch on my chest, anxious, worried. "You said... well, it was something."
I just looked at her, not wanting to really ask what it was, because I wouldn't want to hear about it, but the questioning, pleading look in my eyes was like a large-lettering picture book that Nabiki can read with ridiculous ease.
"'What is wrong with you, Ranma? Are you satisfied with yourself? Saving my life? What is that? Why can't you just... appreciate? Why can't you just appreciate me? Look at you! Whatever it is that I'm not, we all know what you're not, now don't we? DON'T WE, RANMA?!' That's exactly what you said."
"Then you looked at each other. He gave this... cynical sigh, and simply turned his back on you and walked out. He didn't say a word."
"You broke down, though. You didn't seem to be aware of what you just did, and Shampoo and Ukyo were screaming all sorts of things to your face, they were so angry with you. Your legs just... gave in or something, you just sat down suddenly."
"I can see that you were silently crying, staring at the mess on the floor, the puddle where Ranma stood when you splashed him, but we all decided to just leave you to sort things out, kind of. Ukyo and Shampoo were practically swearing, but they didn't show any signs of physically hurting you, so we left. We were feeling uneasy anyway."
The punches on my chest got stronger as they repeated.
"You were always... so sweet, Akane. Violent, but there was this cuteness, this love-hate relationship, this romance in your little fights. No matter how hard you mallet him, or yell at him, or what a jerk he is in how he says you're a tomboy or such... but to us, to the school, it's just another display, you know, it's sort of harmless. Just your... strange way of showing to each other how close you are, how important one is in the other's life. How involved you are with each other."
"But what you did was... cruel, Akane. Everybody knows about Ranma's curse by now, except that idiot Kuno of course, but for you to expose it as an insult... in front of us all... when all he did was..."
"Save me."
"Yeah. Save you."
I looked up into her eyes, trying to tell her how... mixed-up I felt.
She seemed to understand, thought she didn't say anything either. She only said, "Well, anyway, after that, the next thing we knew, you were already in your room, door closed, and you didn't eat anything except some of the food Kasumi put outside your door. Uncle Saotome said you ran all the way home and went straight upstairs."
My teardrop glowed like small topaz, teasing me with the glimmer, just for a split second, before soaking in my shorts. The sunlight is on my lap now. As if wiggling its index finger at me for not getting up and taking action. Furiously, I wipe my cheeks and got to my feet.
So you dare me? You rush me to fix this tonight?? I asked to the scarlet colors of the dusk. Well, I silently determined, I will. Not because I need to. But because I need him. If he stays like this...
The thought drained my energy with a speed that martial artists would love to master, and for a moment I was tempted to sit on my bed again, cuddle my pillow and weep, as I have been doing for the past 24 hours.
Which doesn't fix problem, of course...
No.
I walked to the mirror and examined myself.
My eyes were puffy and bloodshot. The color of my skin was awful, because I only slept for ten minutes last night, terrified, haunted with this cold, thorny blanket of crummy guilt that was wrapping around me, tighter and tighter...
Guilt is so unfamiliar to me. I was always the one wronged... The one who got hurt... The one who deserves the apology...
That no-energy again. My legs felt weak. I just wanted to sit and hug my knees and mope. My hand felt so heavy as I sweep my hair, frustrated, away from my face.
Whatever. He never does judge people from how they look, right?
I opened my drawers and took out a long rectangle box. It was very beautifully decorated, with curls and swirls bordering all the sides, and Ai, the character for Love, engraved in the middle. I opened it and looked at the chopsticks inside. The sweet smell of bamboo greeted me.
They were ordinary chopsticks, also made of bamboo. They were neatly placed side-by-side on a piece of red velvet, red being the Oriental color of good luck. But you can see by the carved decorations that they were the sorts of chopsticks that you collected, and displayed on your cutlery cabinet, or as a hair ornament maybe. A little longer and thicker than your usual dining chopsticks.
The larger end of the chopsticks, the end where you hold it, had a flat engraving, a long oval shape, blank; the space for a name. About halfway of the box, on either side of the pair of chopsticks, were a piece of string, untied.
"They're Matchmaker Chopsticks," Nabiki told me. "It wouldn't hurt to try."
A whole sack of it sat in a corner of my room, but all 80 or them already head my name engraved on one and Kuno's on the other. The Chinese Astrology stand that night had an assortment of things that are supposed to bring you and your lover closer together. With that Magic Lover's Fans, The Love Me Potion, et cetera, et cetera... I felt sorry seeing Sasuke had to carry all the junk on his shoulders.
Nabiki, with her own theory, bought a pair for me. "It's totally silly, of course, but think of it as an excuse. A way for you to show him that you want to be with him. As whatever it is he'd allow you: engaged, friends, siblings, whatever. Believe me, whatever it is that can't pass through his clueless head, this can."
It made sense.
With each pair there was this bag Matchmaking kit, with an engraving tool, a chunk of ink and a brush.
"Experience the discovery of love the ancient way! Proven centuries ago from the deepest regions of the Japan and China..." blah blah blah.
"Engrave your name on one chopstick and your beloved's on the other," goes the instruction. "Then write this message on the inside of the lid: 'My dearest, may I humbly ask you a favor? Bind these chopsticks together and with that you bind me to you and you to me' ". You can write any other message you like, the sweeter and more romantic the better, but always end it with these instructions, or else the power of the chopsticks wouldn't work."
"The Matchmaker Chopsticks symbolizes not only commitment, but agreement to commit. Therefore, they wouldn't work if the chopsticks are engraved and bound together by the same person. It has to be engraved by one person whose name is on one chopstick, and bound by another person whose name is on the other chopstick."
"This is because you can never force love. It just comes to you and from you. But it will go to shameful waste if it is hidden... So use up all your courage—with the help of the Matchmaker Chopsticks—to practically ask permission for love. Who knows; your beloved might just ask, 'What took you so long, my love?!'"
I chuckled a little at this. Picture Ranma talking like that idiot Kuno!
"And remember... to the engraver, don't forget the message! Good luck to you from the Lovers of the Orient!"
Under that there was this advertisement-sort of info about Family Chopsticks and You and Your Boss: Finance Chopsticks and such. Collect them all, blah blah.
I stared on the chopsticks.
How stupid.
I sat down on my desk and started to grind the ink anyway. After that I stood up and turned on the light in my room; the sun has completely set by now.
After watering the ink, I carefully took the brush and generously soaked it with the rich black color. Then I held it above the lid. And thought.
And thought.
And thought.
Finally, I put it down, and took the engraving tool instead. I tested it on a part of my bookshelf to see if it's sharp enough, and began to write.
Saotome Ranma.
Suddenly a dark splotch appeared on the chopstick.
Great, I thought, wiping my tears. Not now. Not now...
I had to put the engraving tool down and cover my face for a while, swallowing the sobs. What's gotten into me? That came out of nowhere...
I sniffed several times and kicked myself for being so pathetic, and took the engraving tool.
Akane Tendo.
Dark splotches again. The Ranma chopstick hasn't even dried from my tears yet.
But I didn't care. I had to finish this.
I took the slab where I ground the ink, and mixed the ink again, even thought it has been mixed and ground as finely as it can be. The whole desk was blurred, I was crying so hard. My hand trembled.
I was so stupid... I was so stupid... I'm so sorry Ranma... This is what you do to me! If you reject me, if you push me away, if I feel ridiculed by you... It just eats me alive.
And now you hate me.
"I'm home!" His voice.
My head snapped up in surprise. It was Saturday evening. The puffer fish incident happened Friday morning, as we all took the day off preparing for the Oriental Night later that evening. To which I didn't come, I couldn't dare. I spent the whole evening—and well into the dawn the next day—with pure and simple regret.
Every thud and thump from the room across the hall, the pressure of footsteps, the sound of someone showering... I couldn't move. I can't think of running into him... I just stayed there until Kasumi gently informed me that Genma and Ranma was going to Nodoka's house that late morning, and asked if I would come.
Naturally, I didn't.
Now he's home.
Suddenly I stopped crying. I took one last disgusting sniff, wiped my face so roughly it must've gone red, and carefully wrote with the brush:
"I'm sorry. Whatever I have become to you, please let me be it still. Please, if you would have me. Whatever I have become to you, whatever it is at all, please don't let anybody replace that..."
"My dearest, may I humbly ask you a favor? Bind these chopsticks together and with that you bind me to you and you to me."
I reread the inscription a few times, as I softly blew the ink so it'll dry, then I closed the lid and walked downstairs to the dinner table.
My legs never felt so heavy.
...
I looked out at the koi pond, but of course I couldn't see anything but that big piece of rock where Ranma and Genma usually spar, before one of them splash inside and turn into their curse and pull the other one in.
I was holding the box in my hand, nervous as hell. Ranma just sat there, calmly, also looking out to the koi pond. The others were still having dinner, I guess. For all I know they might be standing each with their ears neatly above one another, eavesdropping at us, because when I came down to join them at dinner I had the feeling Nabiki explained what happened between Ranma and me, and when I asked if I could talk to him he didn't even take a moment to ask what it was about, ask if he could at least finish his food first.
He just calmly looked at me, put his bowl down, stood up, and walked to the porch overlooking the koi pond.
Now we're sitting here, silent.
What is he thinking? Does he think I'm wasting his time, or something? Or is he expecting and apology? Did Nabiki tell him to expect something? Is he still mad at me? Is he disappointed with me? I want to look at him. What does his eyes say? Why is he so calm? Why did he seem so, so... indifferent? Does that mean he's not giving me a chance? Yeah, maybe he's not. Maybe he's made up his mind. That's why he's not yelling at me or insulting me. There's no more chance for me. Nothing else to say, to argue about. I just asked to talk to him and now he's waiting for me to even begin to try to find another excuse, another reason, to be so... thoughtless.
The wind played with my hair, almost like a tap on my shoulder, whispering, "Well? Go on."
He wasn't even asking what was taking so long. I can't... I don't feel anything... Is he being patient? Understanding? Or tense?
Cold.
He's so cold.
"Ranma, I wasn't... thinking, okay?"
My voice trembled, thick with crying.
There I go again. When did I start crying? Maybe that was why he was so silent. I must've been sobbing all this time and I didn't even...
"It's just... It's just something that you do to me, okay?"
What was it that I rehearsed so many times, up there by the mirror? What was it that I had prepared so neatly to say?
"I just... if you do something that makes me feel like I'm not good enough, at cooking or martial arts or whatever, it just... it hurts, you know, Ranma, it..."
Ranma still wasn't saying anything, but he stood up, walked forward, then sat on edge of the porch, his feet dangling to the ground, his hands propping on either side. And he sighed.
We were sitting side by side before, though with a little space apart, but we couldn't really see each other without really turning our heads. Now I can look at him completely.
Terrific... I struggled as hard as my face muscles can support me to try to muffle the sobbing sounds, and tried to gain control of myself. But I couldn't. I was squeezing my own shorts so hard with anxiety, but now I was back to that all-the-energy-drained-out-of-me state, and my hand was trembling, that the bamboo box slipped out of my hand and landed with a gentle thud by my right knee, as if reminding me that I had to finish the job.
But I know what he meant by that sigh.
You don't think it hurts me? It must've meant. You don't think it hurts me, Akane?
"I'm dumb, Ranma, okay? I lose my temper so quickly..."
I can hear the pitch of my voice climbing, to that wailing, pleading sound of a weeping nine-year-old. It was miserable, but what could I do about it? I am feeling miserable.
"I don't know how to explain this, Ranma, but you... Ranma, you're a very... important person to me, and I totally understand if you choose to... hate me your whole life, but..."
That's how you treat someone important to you? I can almost hear him talking back. As if even his pigtail was pouting at me.
Ranma turned his head a little, to the yard. But just slightly, so that if you weren't in a conversation with him you would've thought he was just casually looking around, enjoying the night air, or something.
I didn't care. It was easier for me to say what I wanted to say with him not speaking back anyway, that's for sure. So what if he wasn't listening.
Ranma always listens to me. I'm the one who always shuts myself from his excuses whenever I get ridiculously jealous or something like that, and mallet him to the ground.
I shut myself in that kitchen too. Worse... I didn't give him a chance to explain.
I probably wouldn't have listened anyway...
Great.
Everything's totally blurred now. I must've read it a thousand times in romance novels and such: "Tears welled her eyes until everything became a blur." I never thought I'd really experience it firsthand... I really... His black hair blended with the dark of the night, so all I can see was the distorted image of his red jacket. I can't even see him. For heaven's sake, I've been half-blind this whole evening, my head feels like a little horse is kicking its hind legs again and again from inside, my eyelids are puffy and aching for swelling so long, I'm exhausted with all this sobbing... and...
For crying out loud, Ranma... Please, just forgive me, okay! Say something! No, don't say anything, if you say something sarcastic I might just shrink to the ground.
I remembered how that dragon's teeth in Ryugenzawa almost crushed him.
"Look, Ranma, I..."
I remembered how he flipped that fishcake on that dreamboy skater's face when he tried to kiss me.
"Ranma, I don't know what came over me, okay!? I was just embarrassed... I mean, you threw it just like that into the garbage, Ranma, okay!? After..."
After all I've done, and after all you've done, after all we've been through... I remembered lying there, helpless, in his arms and feelings his tears drop on my cheeks, softly, like a rejuvenating breath for me.
"I mean, I admit..." (sob)
I remembered when, on the skating rink, he said, "Akane is my fiancé. You touch her, and I'll kill you!"
"I just... Who would've thought..."
I smiled bitterly at my own words.
"Yeah, that was what was wrong, wasn't it, Ranma? I didn't think..." I said, softly. But I'm sure heard that. For all I know, he might very well be just sitting there, not listening to a word I said the whole time.
"Ranma, please forg..."
Then he did the one last thing I needed him to do at the time.
He turned around and looked at me.
I dared myself to look back, but only lasted five seconds.
I looked down and stared at the wooden floorboards of the porch, which I can't actually see with all the tears blocking the way. But I caught a glimpse of his blue eyes... thank goodness I didn't see it clearly either.
If I see hatred or disappointment or... if I saw his eyes at all, I might throw myself at his feet and beg and beg and beg.
Instead, I just wiped my eyes as fast as I could, stumbled to my feet and walked up to him, all the time staring at the wooden porch. I took a deep breath, and stuttered, "For you. It's something silly, but..."
Then I turned on my heels and dashed upstairs.
Genma-Panda, Nabiki, Happosai, Father, and even Kasumi's heads were propped on top of one another, poked through the doorway, eavesdropping at us, as I thought. They rushed to "normal" positions as I passed through, but I didn't care.
Was he listening? That was all I could think of. Did I make sense at all back there???
...
...
...
Tap, tap.
My eyes snapped open. Not that I was asleep. I was still blaming the whole world, of course, my poor pillow being the victim and all.
Tap, tap.
I got up, not daring to hope for it to be him. I rested my hand on the doorknob, trying to calm down my heartbeat before actually opening the door.
I knew, actually, from the second I turned the doorknob. No... I knew from the first knocking sound, I think.
I just... believed in us.
Whatever we was.
I opened the door really slowly, and again dared myself to look at him, but my eyes got blurry again after five seconds anyway.
I think I caught his expression a little. He seemed... questioning. A little concerned.
Gee, how hopeless can I get...?
I just stood there, pathetic, sobbing, when I saw his feet move forward.
"Hey," he said. "We need to talk, don't you think?"
A few aftermath tears flowed freely on my cheeks.
"Akane, you don't have to... I mean, stop crying, I only wanted to..."
His voice seemed so... natural. Like nothing happened. Well, with a little maturity, and carefulness. Gentleness. Like nothing happened.
I wiped my face, roughly of course, I'm so mad at myself for being such a crybaby, but then I felt my hand being gently but firmly pulled away and then he wiped my cheeks with his hand instead, softly.
"Geez, you're even this violent to yourself, Tomboy?"
His voice sounded so ordinary. Like the way he teases me every other hour about my being so shapeless and all that.
Only gentler.
You idiot, I can only get back silently, as my tears flowed even wilder, taking in how mature and forgiving and understanding he was. His hand was still softly patting my shoulder, soothing me. "Enough already, Akane!"
Ranma...
So of course I couldn't help but doing what I did next: I just threw myself at him, wrapped him in my arms, and I can feel him slowly, carefully, hesitantly wrap his arms around me too.
And so I held him. I rested my head on his shoulder and kept repeating, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Ranma... I'm sorry..."
Funny, I mean, my nose is all runny and I kept sniffing but I can still smell him so completely, right up to his hair; I can feel his heartbeat; I kept worrying whether my hair smelt funny from all that crying; and if does, whether it matters... sheesh, Akane, Akane... is this what happens when you're in love?
Akane, you're in love, aren't you...
I could laugh at myself. Serendipity. But...
Did he laugh at me, though? Was that apology too mushy for him? What if he just felt sorry for me? What if he forgives me just because I was so frickin' desperate?? What if he forgives me just because of his sweet nature, because it's... decent? Because of the amazing dignity that he has running through his blood?
I want him forgive me because he... because he loves me.
Sheesh, Akane, you dare to wish that when you're supposed to be thankful to the lord of heaven and earth just cos he speaks to you at all? He's saved your life more times than the frequency of him transforming from male to female and back, and you splashed him and dared him admit that he's not a man???
Now you want him to...
But of course I can't say that. We just stood there, holding each other.
I would've gladly stayed there in his arms till morning, but these strings of paranoid questions just poked at me like a thousand jellyfish stings, gripping me. But I don't dare look at him in the eye yet...
"Ranma... am I... do you forgive me?"
"Huh?" I can feel Ranma's head tilt a little, wanting to pull away and look at me to hear me clearly, but I strengthened my embrace, and just repeated my question a little louder.
Silence.
"Akane, it was... I never thought you could..."
Right. Right. Sweet Akane. The Akane with such perfect manners and morality and conscience, except the occasional catfights with Saotome Ranma.
"I never thought that either, Ranma," I said, turning my head a bit, with the silly impulse that I might just hide behind his neck. "It's so... I'm so ashamed, I mean, you didn't deserve that, Ranma, do you hear me? I had no right at all... I owe my life to you so many times, and I just...
"I owe my life to you too, just as often."
"Ranma, you're just so... righteous all the time, I mean the last thing I need is for you to forgive me just because you feel sorry for me, or because you think you owe me your life—which you don't, because from the many times you pulled me away from certain death you just never seem to think twice so maybe you don't remember that—but I mean, if I were you, I might not want to be in the same house with the jerk that I am anymore, and..."
"You never let me explain, Akane. That's all it ever was. You just never give me a chance to explain."
About anything, I added silently to his sentence. I never let him explain. Not about why he kept pushing me to eat that super soba antidote, not about that time he went into the girl's locker to find the pot for the Japanese Nannichuan, not about why he left hurriedly not eating my cookies but not eating Kodachi's, not about that hug-whoever-sneezes thing that Shampoo put in those buns, not about why he hates P-chan so much—though I still can't understand what in the world that's all about—not about that playboy band- aid, and not about this stupid puffer fish soup.
"But I guess you wouldn't have listened anyway, huh? You would've just malleted me to the ground, or..."
That is it. That is the last straw. I pulled away and from that very comforting embrace—how safe it felt—and looked straight into his blue eyes, taking a deep breath with determination.
Only my desklight was on, so the lighting was dim, but you never have difficulty when looking Ranma in the eye, because whoever dares to, he locks that gaze, with the reflex of finishing every fight and taking care of every detail of battle. He never averts his eyes with just pure ignorance.
So he looked back at me, waiting. I was just about to start this patriotic oath about controlling my temper, never ignoring him again, and convincing him how much he means to me; all I had a chance to say was, "Ranma, I..."
"Don't you ever do anything like that again, you violent, violent Tomboy. It was out of line, okay, it's... just don't ever do anything like that ever again," he cut me off.
Silence.
"Sure, Ranma. If you promise to stay my... my, um... "
Fiancé. Friend. Best friend. Lifesaver. Houseguest, whatever!
"I promise."
"Don't... I mean, don't just go ahead and walk out on me and..."
"Yes."
I splashed him and announced the androgyny that he was, making a big cruel spectacle of it, and he's the one I demand a promise from??
"Ranma, did you forgive me just because..."
Okay, now I'm totally embarrassed. I shifted my eyes nervously to his shoulders, his neck, his tanktop wet with my tears.
"I... I mean, what with your whole manly, martial arts code and all, I mean, I would completely expect you to just forget the whole thing as a righteous act of the day or something..."
"Forget the whole thing?"
I was forced to look at him. So I peeked. Trying to catch the expression of a person you're having an argument with really helps, you know. You can sort of detect what you said wrong if his expression turns to disappointment or feel reassured if the emotion decreases a little and that flashing anger in his eyes dimmed. Either way...
And I saw anger.
His arms slowly moved from around me, and settled on his sides. The sudden feeling of being abandoned exploded from inside me like a large pot of boiling water. Shit, it was going so well... Stupid, stupid Akane...
"After Pop's wise choice of reminding me about it every single second of my whole life as an idiotic excuse for building character? After my goose chase with death on the blade of a katana because I might just have to, by word of honor that I didn't even know I made, if Mother knew about this? After Ryoga and Pantyhose Tarou's daily insults and Happosai taking advantage every time I transform and Kuno after me in that form? After Nabiki creating a career out of it? After I tried—tried very hard—every day of my life since then, which was well over three years ago, to just agree with everyone and take it as a big joke but fail to?"
"And then have you thinking so lowly of it too? Announcing it in front of everyone? Forget the whole thing? You, Akane, of all people..."
His hands have curled into impatient, hurt fists. And his eyes haven't stopped shooting that accusing stare at me the whole time.
Ranma, don't talk like that...
"Ranma, I don't think lowly of that, okay?!? I wasn't even thinking at that time, remember! It was you who thought so lowly of me, okay, it was the thought of you thinking that I was so pathetic at every single thing I try to do, it grabbed the common sense out of me, okay!? I'm sorry, Ranma!"
"I never think you're pathe..."
"It just happens, don't you understand? You mean a lot to me, Ranma!"
This time I'm staring at him just as hard. I can see that a little confusion and a little disbelief is forming in his eyes, but I don't care.
"It's stupid Ranma, it's boring to discuss okay, the fact that I can't cook, or swim, or... I just... I can't stand..."
I took a deep breath. I have to say this.
"I can't stand being reminded all the time that I'm not good enough for you, Ranma."
There. Exhale.
Admitting the feelings you've kept under lock and key in your heart so strongly, for so long, is so exhausting. I walked to the bed and sat there, feeling somewhat relieved.
"That's what I've been trying to... that's the thing behind it all Ranma. I can't live with so many people reminding me so many times, Ranma, that you're so much better off with somebody else. Somebody that's so unlike me. Somebody that's everything I'm not. Somebody who..."
Steady, Akane, steady. Calm down. I sniffed a little. I must've looked so miserable. I looked up at him. I couldn't tell what he was feeling. But his expression had softened a little, back to that concern with which he first entered my room.
"I'll be right back," he said, and left. A few moments later he came back. He was holding a rectangle bamboo box, decorated with beautiful carvings. He sat beside me and opened it, practically under my nose.
The string was neatly tied, securing the two chopsticks together. The picture was so sweet the string could've been grinning at me with satisfaction, because it succeeded "matchmaking" us.
I felt as if he opened a jewelry box and presented a wedding ring to me.
I took the box gently from him, scared that the string would probably come loose by itself all of a sudden, or something like that, and managed a small, relieved, shy little giggle. And turned to look at Ranma. I can't tell what he was thinking. He had this Saotome Ranma shine that was always there, confident, coy, playful.
Playful. Play is the keyword.
My smile faded a little and turned to the box. I touched the string gently, and glanced at the message I inscribed for him.
"Do you think I'm good enough for you?"
"What??"
"This curse. You're not the only one worrying about not being good enough, you know."
I stared at him. "No. Definitely not. This curse is, well, a curse. It's not a mistake. It's not your fault or anything. Do you understand me, Ranma?"
He nodded.
"What I said... I didn't mean it the way that you should just think it never happened you know, I mean, I was worried that you..."
"Worried that I what?"
"Ranma," I said, facing him, "are you doing this just because you feel sorry for me?"
I waited, ready for anything. Silence. In the meantime, I was enjoying gazing at him like this. Ranma, Ranma. Do you know how much I think about you each night?
Maybe I was watching him so closely so I wasn't paying attention. Maybe it was because he did it so softly. Maybe because I did it first, not him, cos I haven't been using my common sense in the past three years with him anyway. Whichever one it was, the next thing I knew his lips were on mine.
I couldn't decide what to do first—I lifted one hand to touch his cheek, then pulled it away, then lifted my other hand and carefully stroked his hair, then pulled that away, then lifted another hand and carefully put it on his shoulder...
Impatient, he casually took both my hands in his, and held them, and went on kissing me.
Silly little Matchmaker Chopsticks.
—the end, what happens next is up to your imagination...—