Disclaimer: I don't own Ranma 1/2
There was simply no hope for it.
No hope, whatsoever.
The man was going to have to die.
He had betrayed her, no one was allowed to betray her. Forsaken her. Forsaken her for another woman, for money, for tangible meaningless things. She should never have loved him in the first place, should never have allowed herself the luxury. But he had broken down her defenses. He'd scooped her up off the floor when she was breaking inside, made her laugh when she felt like breaking cinderblocks, crushing bones.
He had become, over time, the only person she could cry in front of. The only person she could show weakness to. He was her weakness. Her love for him made her weak—it was not love, so much, but need, now that she thought about it. She needed him. Had allowed herself to need him.
It began when he wouldn't leave her alone in her vulnerable moments, the moments where the rain passed through her soul and left her shivering, shattered, with salt on her cheeks. Then, he'd refused to leave her when she tried to push him away. When he saw. . . when he saw what she truly was.
"I'm going to have to stop you there, Akane, this is just too painful too listen to," Kodachi informed me. I put down the story I was working on for my writing class, smiling sheepishly at her.
"I know, it's not very well written, but he isn't giving us a whole lot of time, here," Akane apologized, feeling her smile warble. Was it too transparent? Kodachi would know she was writing about herself, but would everyone?
Would that bastard Saotome be able to see right through it?
Maybe she'd be better off with a piece on puppies. Puppies are always safe. Except, Jordan tried to give her a puppy once, it tried to eat Nabiki's camera and . . . . STOP THINKING ABOUT IT!
"I couldn't care less how well it was written, I'm no poet laureate myself," Kodachi murmured. "But I can't stand this self-recrimination. Especially not because of him. Just what do you think you are, Akane, that a man like Jordan was a godsend?"
:Nothing, Kodachi. I was nothinga temper on two legs before he loved me. I broke bones when I was angry, I nearly killed some guys at my high school for harassing me. Then he loved me, and he was so weak, so helpless, that I couldn't hurt him for it. He softened me.:
Out loud, she said, "Oh, just a tomboy, I guess. Violent, that sort of thing."
Kodach rolled her eyes and took the paper from me, ripping it into little shreds and dropping it in the wastebasket.
"Have you seen any movies lately? Chicks that can fight are the new hot thing. There isn't a guy on this campus who wouldn't want a toned little tamale like yourself, or, for that matter, like me," she grinned, a feral grin. I smiled back, more tentatively. Sometimes I forget that Kodachi practically invented a whole new martial art—Martial Art Gymnastics. It's a sport of cheating—my dad teaches Anything Goes, so, well, anything goes, but still—and Kodachi is one of the best.
Plus, she looks pretty good in her leotard. I, however, look like legs and a head in leotards, so she couldn't talk me into it.
"You just get back to typing. Write up a story about that guy you were so worried about in class, the one you malleted last night," she suggested. I rolled my eyes.
"No chance in hell. Did I tell you what he did in class today?" I asked. She crossed her legs and leaned back, settling in.
"No. Do tell," she purred.
"Well, he kissed me."
"Then you should definitely write about him. In fact, date him. Stop moping."
"All right, look, I'm allowed to mope for at least a week, and I've only used up two days of that. I haven't even told my father yet."
"You should get on that."
"I will. Anyway, I don't think you quite understand. He kissed me in CLASS. In front of everyone. And, then, well . . . I slapped him. Hard."
"Akane, you're hopeless."
"Well, he . . . look, he said something really weird, too. About his mother's tribe having two kinds of kisses or something, and then . . . the slap didn't even faze him, he's pretty scary himself. Then the teacher walked in, and made us both leave the classroom—he didn't let us off on homework, though, so I have to write SOMETHING before tomorrow," Akane groaned, slumping back in her hard wooden chair. She ran her fingers absently over the cold, pale cinderblocks of the wall beside her.
"You do attract the freaks, Akane," Kodachi sighed, standing and sauntering over to her mirror. She studied her reflection for a moment, before adjusting her bangs and nodding, satisfied. "I'm going to go get some food for my babies, do you want to come?"
Food usually means live feeder fish, live crickets, or some nice coconut for the giant spiders she calls hermit crabs.
"No, thanks," I sighed. I rose to my feet, too. "I'm going to spend the night at home, tonight. I have to tell my father about the ruined engagement, and I just know Kasumi will make me stay over."
"I'm surprised she didn't make you stay at home while you were at school, period. How did you manage to escape into University housing?" Kodachi asked me, slipping on her shoes. I snorted.
"It was a hard battle, believe me. But you know the University policies—all freshman have to live in dorms. So I'm stuck here until next semester," I reminded her. I bent to tie the laces of my own shoes.
"What about your homework?"
"I can do it at the dojo, no problem," I muttered, straightening and joining her at the door. "I can write anywhere. I just. . . pray for me, Kodachi, I may not be coming back alive tomorrow."
We left the room, locking it behind us, as Kodachi giggled softly. We were halfway down the hallway before she let me in on what was so funny.
"If I pray to MY gods, Akane, you certainly won't be," she announced. I cast a sidelong glance in her direction—she was really eating this up. Her cheeks were pink with barely contained laughter.
"And just what gods are those?" I asked, carefully.
"Well, my dear, call them family totems. You wouldn't find them in any mythology books—they're Kuno property. But they aren't very nice."
Ah, there it was. The family estate. My father and mother moved to America from Japan when Kasumi was a baby, and they tried to keep as much of their heritage intact as possible. My father built his house with a dojo next to it, and a wall surrounding the property. He even tried to keep it in the Japanese style, not understanding how odd it was.
We don't have a lot of normal chairs in my house.
My mother insisted on rice paper walls and tatami mats, even a big Japanese style bathtub. The thing is huge. Both of my sisters could take a bath in there with me and it wouldn't be all that cramped. After my mother decided she wanted to go back to her family in Japan (read "deserted us and ran off like a dirty little coward") my father changed all the bedroom furniture to Western style. He says it's more comfortable, and I think he's right.
The gates in the big wall around our house were open. They haven't ever been closed since Nabiki went off to college in Texas. My father embraced her tearfully before she left to board her bus out of here, and promised that he would never shut the doors against her.
And he never has.
I kind of wanted to go to college far away, too, but guilt kept me here. Kasumi, my oldest sister, never went to a finishing school at all. Standing just outside the gates, I could hear her singing in the kitchen. My sweet, selfless, beautiful sister. Sometimes I think she really is perfect. When she was about to graduate high school, I asked her where she wanted to go to college.
"Oh, I'm not going. Someone has to take care of Father," she said, and then she smiled. "Besides, if I go to school, I'll never have time to work on my art." Her art. At our age, most people are still so wrapped up in themselves that all they can produce is an expression of anger, or despair. She writes children's books – sweet, charming little stories that she fills with sweet, charming little pictures. And she gets them published, too.
I didn't have the heart to leave her. And I'm sure, when next year rolls around and I'm no longer required to live on campus, I won't have the heart to stay out of my house, either.
I finally walked through the gates, and up to the door. Taking a deep breath, I slid it open.
"I'm home!" I called out. In a flash, Kasumi was out of the kitchen and right in front of me, throwing her arms around my neck. She smelled like fresh bread.
"Akane, darling! I'm so glad you're home, Father has guests coming over later, I'm sure he'll want you to meet them," she said, stepping back and appraising me. "You smell like a sweatshop, Akane, have you been fighting again?"
"I. . . . um . . . " Just a little, really. There were some high school thugs picking on a cat, under a bridge I had to cross to get home. Those punks barely made me break a sweat. Obviously, operation "Keep Akane at Home" was underway.
"You shouldn't be so violent," she admonished gently. "Go on up and take yourself a nice, hot bath. There are clean clothes for you in your room, and I just did your sheets. I do hope you'll be staying with us tonight," she smiled, and returned to the kitchen, humming happily.
I knew it. No one can stand up under the happy barrage of domesticity that is Kasumi.
With a heavy sigh, I went upstairs to take a bath. Any excuse that would postpone my announcement to father was more than welcome.
(changing perspective. . . . NOW)
"Stop yer whining. Soun Tendo is a good friend of mine, and he'll keep us in food an' hot water. He might even hide us from your mother, when the time comes," Pops said, loftily. I glowered at him.
"Aye, but our pretext for staying just won't work. You don't know that he even has any daughters. Besides, I'm already married to both Ryouga and that Akane lass, so how can I take on an engagement?" I argued. He waved my words aside, as if they were nothing.
My blood was already boiling from everything that had happened earlier that day, and I wanted, very badly, to pound my worthless excuse for a father into the ground. Luckily for him, we were on a busy city street, and I knew enough about America to know that a sound public beating, while perfectly acceptable back home, was looked down on here.
So instead I satisfied myself with cracking my knuckles. A lot.
In all fairness to my pop, he wasn't the real reason I was so ticked. My new, ah, wife was the real reason. At least I was safe in making her such, she seemed to have no interest in me, and we could live out our separate lives.
But did she really have to slap me so hard? My cheek was still red from the force of that one. Granted, I've been slapped harder by my cousin Xian Pu, but still. All I did was kiss the girl. She didn't even give me time to explain myself. As if I had actually enjoyed kissing a violent, suicidal little girl like her!
Though, if I were being honest, she wasn't all that bad. That was the real reason the slap had shocked me so much. When someone kisses you back, you don't expect them to be pissed about it.
I cracked my knuckles some more. She would learn. She was my wife, and that meant I belonged to her, by Amazon law. But I wasn't raised as a boy in that tribe, so I look at things a little differently. I own her life, now—she beat me, and as a girl I would be required to kill her, but I did not, and will not. And as my wife—I have a right to kill any man who so much as touches her hair, so that's a form of ownership, too, isn't it?
Of course, it would be really hard to take the moral high ground on that one while I was freeloading at this Tendo's place under the pretext of a prearranged engagement to his daughter. What would this new girl be like? Sweet, maybe? Someone I could ignore? Someone who would take one look at my cursed body and see a perverted theme park, and demand a season pass to it? Someone like the Akane girl? If it were, I would be better off just killing myself and getting it over with. Two of them I couldn't handle.
Just as we reached the gates to the Tendo residence, it started to rain.
And it looked like I'd be meeting my new fiancé as a girl. Goody.
We walked through the gates and up to the front door. When we knocked, it was answered by a sweet-looking young woman in a flowery apron. She blinked at the sight of the panda beside me, and she blinked even more at the sign he was holding up.
Are you the daughter of Soun Tendo? it said. She nodded, slowly. The sign flipped around. I have business with him.
"Of course," she said, with a bright smile. Now it was my turn to blink in confusion. She was just. . . going to let us in? No questions? No. . . screaming at the sight of a large panda bear on the loose? Nothing?
Yeah, I could probably handle being around her. This might not be so bad.
Apparently, she WAS just going to let us in. She pointed Pops in the direction of Mr. Tendo before turning that bright smile on me.
"Would you like to warm up a bit while your pet talks with Father? My sister's just run a nice hot bath," she said. I nodded, dumbly. That was just. . . odd. It got even odder, as she led me up the stairs and knocked on the door of the bathroom. "Akane, one of Father's guests has arrived, and she's soaked to the bone. Can she join you?"
"Sure," came the muffled reply. Wait just a second, how many girls in this town are named Akane? As far as I know, it's not a common American name.
I opened the door, feeling my intestines clump together in a big, nervous, icy ball.
"I'll leave you two girls to it," the smiling lady said, and then she deserted me. Left me in the claws of the monster, as it were.
Sure enough, there was Akane, sitting in the biggest bathtub I'd ever seen. It was wide enough to fit two or three people stretching out, and deep enough that only her head and neck poked out of the water. Of course she was one of Soun Tendo's daughters. Of course. Fate freaking LOVES me.
"Come in and close the door, you're letting the hot air out," she commanded. I obliged, then stood by the door, awkwardly, for a few minutes. So . . . was this the proper time to explain the whole Kiss of Marriage thing? Or would she slap me again?
"Well, hop on in. Don't be shy," she smiled. She beckoned me over to the tub. "We're all girls here."
"Yeah, about that," I muttered, scratching the back of my head. "Is that water hot?"
"Yep, piping," she smiled. I sighed. Of course. Spoiled American girls and their hot baths, wouldn't last a single day in my village. . . "Are you shy? It's okay, really, I mean, we've all been in gym class, right?"
WHY was she begging me to get all naked with her?
"I'm not shy. I used to take baths with girls all the time in my village, but they were. . . cold baths, and that makes a bit of a difference," I answered her, leaning against the door.
"Why would that make such a difference?"
"Have you ever heard of Jusenkyo Springs?"
"No." Of course she hadn't. I want to go home where people take cold baths and speak Chinese.
"Och, well, it's a training ground in China. People go there, from all over, to get better at mid-air combat. But the consequences of a misplaced foot are severe. Every spring there has a tragic tale, someone who died there, and cursed the water. So if someone falls in. . ." I looked her dead in the eyes. She was languid still, only mildly curious. Not very perceptive, this one. ". . . they take the shape of whatever drowned there. The only thing that turns them back to their original form is a splash of hot water. And every time they get touched with cold water, they turn back—back into whatever drowned in that spring."
"So . . . you're cursed?" she said, slowly. I nodded, trying to be the soul of patience.
"Aye, and hot water would turn me back," I said, slowly. "I'm actually a boy." Her eyes widened at that. At last, some kind of reaction! "I was raised as a girl, though. I'm an Amazon. My mother couldn't have any more children, she was so disappointed that her only child was a boy that when I. . . when I wandered into the Spring of Drowned Girl, she was ecstatic. And I knew I was a boy, but that didna seem to matter. . ."
"What in the hell are you doing here?" she asked, cutting right to the chase. She had backed up to the farthest corner of the bathtub, and curled into a ball to protect herself. Please.
"Well, that's a bit of a long story," I sighed, resigning myself to telling it. I settled down on the floor, averting my eyes to the ceiling. Not because I didn't want to see her naked—why the hell should I care, I got the same parts—but because she was so obviously uncomfortable. I guess all that come-get-naked-and-wet-with-me talk was just bluster.
"Do we have to go through this now?" she asked. I looked at her, surprised. She blushed, and looked down into the water. "I just. . . this is sort of weird. I mean, I don't even know you, and you're telling me all this."
"You know me," I said softly, somewhat surprised. What, she didn't recognize my accent? My face? I always thought I looked pretty much the same in either sex.
"I. . . I do?" she asked. She was really blushing now.
"Och, aye. Ranma Saotome, remember?" I said, smiling at her. This was the part where she relaxed, asked me about the kiss thing, and we got this all settled, right?
No. Apparently not.
She screamed and ducked under the water. I could still hear the high, thin sound coming from underneath the water, and see the bubbles on the surface. Alarmed, I scrambled to my feet and ran over to her. I fished around in the water for a minute, then pulled her up by her arm.
"Don't DO that!" I yelled at her. Before I could yell at her some more, a hard, heavy weight came to rest on my head – with great force, so maybe "rest" isn't the correct term – and the world went black.
I woke up on a soft bed—one of the softest I've ever been on in my life—with something warm and heavy draped over me. As soon as I could, I opened my eyes and tried, very hard, to disregard the little man in my head trying to hammer his way out.
Akane was sitting over me, a sheepish expression on her face.
"I didn't think you were going to wake up so fast," she whispered, blushing again. Does the girl ever say anything without turning red?
"You know, that's the second time you've knocked me out in as many days?" I asked her, sitting up. I kept a tight grip on my head to prevent it from rolling off onto the floor. Man, that girl hit hard.
"Yeah. . . I'm really sorry about that. My fiancé. . . my ex-fiance used to yell at me for being too violent. I guess. . . I guess I haven't changed that much," she said, softly. I quirked an eyebrow at her. Competition was one thing I hadn't betted on.
"You're engaged?" I asked. She shook her head violently.
"I was. My daddy arranged it. . . but I called it off a few nights ago. Actually," she smiled at me, a warmer smile than I would have thought her capable of. "I broke it off the night you knocked me from that fencerail."
"So that's why you were trying to jump," I mused. "Good thing it's off, I'd hate to have to kill him."
"I was not. . . what are you. . . what?" she asked, utter confusion on her features.
"In my mother's tribe, there are two kinds of kisses. The Kiss of Marriage, and the Kiss of Death. You beat me. As a girl, I'd be obligated to kill you. As a man. . . I'm obligated to marry you, and bring more strong children into the tribe." I figured it would be best if I left Ryouga out of it for now. She needn't know about that mess yet.
She looked pale enough as it was. All the blood drained out of her face when I said that.
"So. . . so you think we're engaged now?" she asked. I laughed at her.
"Married, Akane. Married. Things are a lot more simple where I come from."
(bye bye)
Before anybody nails me to the cross of OOC, keep in mind, this is an AU. They've been raised very differently. Ranma was raised primarily by his mother, and taught to speak English by Ryouga, so his speech patterns are going to be very different. So is his attitude toward women. He won't have a problem hitting women—he considers himself more of a girl than a guy, anyway. He won't hit Akane, though—I can't imagine the penalties for hitting your wife in an Amazon tribe. So, there's that. And they're all older, they've been through a bit more. Akane isn't the cute little virginal child, she's been badly burned by a guy now. So the trust issues are very different, and much less tied to ideas about "perverts."
Also, they're all in America now. The girls were raised there. Mercenary girls like Nabiki are praised here for business sense, instead of condemned for being selfish. A quiet, demure Kasumi is the ideal Japanese homemaker—to be the same thing in America she'd be more vivacious. We like vivacious over here. And Akane wouldn't be considered boyish, she'd be considered childish. So. That was my real reason for moving them over here.
One more note—Ryouga is just Scottish, I'll get around to explaining that as soon as I come up with a good explaination. Oh, and the rest of the crew will be arriving shortly. No worries. Except Kuno. Can't bust him out of the mental ward. Sorry.
And Jordan is going to come back into the picture. Anticipate fun with that.
