Author's Note: Hello! This is my first Ranma fic!
(Aka me ignoring my WIPs because I could not get these scenes out of my head.)
Except some romance, drama, a bit of angst, and a whole lotta... explicitness!
I hope you enjoy!
She rushes through the bitter, dead cold, the air so dry that her lungs burn with each breath. It's the kind of winter morning where the sun hides behind the fog, the few hours of daylight left sure to look the same.
And it sucks. It hurts to breathe. It shouldn't hurt to breathe.
Her nostrils flare as she inhales, so frosty that it feels like fire. She wishes she were Ranma right now. Laying under a warm blanket in a warm room. If he was smart enough to stay asleep, that is.
She hopes he didn't wake up. If he did, she doubts he'd realized she was doing him a favor. She bites the insides of her cheeks. If he was on his way now, this would be a terrible time to start something.
Or maybe an argument would warm her up? They haven't been doing it lately… much, anyway.
That idiot better stay home today. He needs the rest.
And finally, she's at the gates, her final winter of high school right before her eyes. If it was snowing, maybe it'd look as beautiful as it felt.
Actually, it was strange that it hadn't snowed yet. December had just begun, but the weather was more than good enough.
She's earlier than she thought — way earlier. As she enters the building and peers down the hall, she sees next to nobody. The cold really got to her today, huh?
She takes her time changing her shoes and shrugging off her coat. She folds it neatly into the crease of her elbow, ready to head into homeroom and look over her work, until heavy fingers wrap around her arm and pull her back.
What she hates is how even though his hand is freezing, his touch is so hot, even through her clothes. She hates how he makes her feel so tiny, his fingers closing all the way around her arm. And most of all.
How she knew it was him right away.
Her body will recognize him anytime, anywhere. Won't it? It's a part of the deal neither of them ever made.
And yet, she's left shocked, looking over her shoulder as his grip grows tighter. Her already-pink cheeks beam with the fresh blood that pools to them.
He looks so… serious.
Angry, really. And it catches her even more off guard. Anything she could say to break that expression is lost on her.
His eyes are so icy, so intent on her. Her stomach flips.
His voice is low and rough with sleep. "Why didn't you wake me up?"
She blinks hard, her throat dry. Why is he so… so… so mad at her?
He pulls her slightly closer, her forearm hanging as his hold makes her malleable. She's supposed to be in control here. How can he talk to her like this? Especially over not waking him up for school?!
"'kane," he says, demanding. His gaze so steady that it scares her.
Or maybe that's not the word — it's not the word to describe the goosebumps that rise on her skin.
He squeezes her arm, frown growing deeper, and the corners press into her chest. She can't stand this. Her heart is pounding.
And right then, she's so aware of how he's stunned her. How can she give into him so easily? She grits her teeth, eyes falling shut as a heated energy rises inside.
"Well, maybe if you didn't rely on me to—" she tears her arm away, or at least attempts to — she's cut off by the way he pulls her in even closer.
She doesn't understand what his voice does to her body at the moment. "Akane, could you cut it out and answer my question?"
Somehow, his voice is even lower. His eyes pierce her like the cold outside.
And she shivers.
What is happening to me right now?
Is he actually that upset with her? That's the last thing she wants…
She looks down to the ground shyly, her blush growing deeper as his soft breath hits her cheek. "I just wanted you to get some rest, Ranma. I noticed that you haven't been sleeping lately… and it's so cold today, I just… didn't have the heart to wake you up…"
She doesn't need to look at him to know he's caught off guard. His hand goes tense before slipping down and away.
Did he really have to assume the worst? And embarrass her like this? She brings a hand underneath her chin and finds the courage to peek at him through her lashes.
"I wasn't trying to get back at you or make you mad, Ranma," she says, finding her voice, even though it's little. His undereyes are so dark, like violet moons, and the same concern she's felt for him the last few days fills her and overrides everything else. She tilts her head, frowning slightly. "Ranma, why haven't you been sleeping?"
He blinks down at her, his jaw slack and eyes still so wide with surprise. She has this urge to reach out to him. To touch him. He looks so tired, almost ill, and it hurts her heart to see him like this. She hates it when he doesn't take care of himself.
The silence between them stretches for too long, but she doesn't break it. She waits patiently for him. It's the least she can do.
"I-I-I, um," he stutters.
Is he… blushing?
"Are you cold?" she says, eyebrows furrowed, tugging lightly at the sleeve of his red Chinese shirt. Why doesn't he ever dress appropriately for the cold weather?!
"N-no!" he says, finally shaken out of his odd stupor, his arms flailing in front of him. "I, I just—"
She puts her hands on her hips and raises a brow. "Is there something you're not telling me?"
"No! 'kane, listen—"
"Are you doing some kinda weird training again?" She crosses her arms. "Ranma, I swear…"
That idiot! It has to be something weird. He's always taking the shadiest offers without ever worrying about the consequences! She puffs one hip out and glares up at him, staying still as he grows more and more flustered.
He's getting frustrated with her now. He stills and bares his teeth, matching her stare. "No. Nothing's going on. Okay?"
Her brow twitches higher. Is she supposed to believe him? The boy who only lives to eat, sleep, and fight?
He groans when she doesn't relent, pushing his bangs back. The sight of that almost makes her, though. Does he have to be so… so… ugh!
"That doesn't ever happen to you, Akane? When you just can't sleep? I know that's happened to you before."
She dimples one cheek and nods. "Yeah, I know what you mean. You really don't know why?"
That's when his face goes pale and expressionless, but only for a second. He shakes it off before she can even blink and smiles weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't. But hopefully I'll catch up on sleep soon."
He shoves his hands into his pockets and walks past her, his arm brushing her shoulder. When had he gotten so tall? He stops a few steps behind her and turns his head to the side, his eye glinting as it catches hers. "Thanks for worrying about me."
Her first instinct is to deny it, but that's not the rational part of her. The rational part of her knows it's ridiculous, that it's entirely useless, so she stifles it.
How can she not worry about him? Especially when he lied to her just now?
He gives her another smile, one so gentle that it goes straight to her heart, and she watches as he walks away.
She's always surprising him.
Or maybe she just reminds him of how she really is, and it always leaves him stupid for some damn reason. As if he doesn't know just how… how… nice? Caring. She can be.
They've been good lately. He doesn't know what it is exactly, but for the most part, it's been so much easier between them — he bites his tongue and she pulls her punches. Was it really that simple, all this time?
So when she left without him this morning, it made his chest feel weird. Almost like it was sore after a hard workout, but he's never felt it there like that, and he hasn't been doing anything crazy lately.
It pissed him off. Or maybe he just wanted to be pissed.
Honestly, it kinda… kinda made him sad. That they were back to that. The whole way to school, while he was chasing her down, because she was moving so freaking fast, he racked his brain for anything he could've done that made her leave him behind.
Was it that he stole a bite of her food last night? No, she only did that little angry pout before stealing from his bowl. Was it that he wouldn't spar with her for real yesterday? Nah, she actually looked like she was… having fun. Was it because he kept bothering her while she was trying to study after school? No, it couldn't be, she was laughing right along with him…
And to think it was all because she was worried about him. He felt so bad when she looked at him like that, all eyelashes and big doe eyes and pretty pink cheeks, admitting that she did it for his sake.
Fuck. He grimaces, shifting in his seat as a familiar warmth rolls through his stomach. Did she have to look at me like that?
She set her pride aside. For him. Why was that so… so…
He sighs, slumping forward in his seat. "'kane," he mumbles, more of a noise of despair than her name.
He despises it when she worries about him. When she takes notice of his suffering, it makes him feel weak in a way he can't take. But the thing is, she's usually the first, or the only person to see it. She always catches him when he's vulnerable.
So maybe it made more sense to assume she didn't wake him out of spite. He was hoping she hadn't noticed just how sleep deprived he's been.
Especially since it's her fault.
Well, not really.
Except yes, really. Not intentionally.
He's sure she has no idea what she's doing to him.
He lifts his head and instantly catches the sight of her neck, so long and thin. Her hair has grown out a little bit — he thinks back to the way the ends curled around her delicate jaw and bites his lip, willing himself to look away but failing. He likes her hair like that. At any length, really.
But he thinks he might like her neck more.
Stop. She already thinks you're a pervert.
He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head before picking up his pencil. He should probably take notes.
But he's already so hypnotized that he loses himself again, staring down at the white of his paper, only the date written in the corner.
His mouth and cheek twitches. His leg bounces uncontrollably. I am so fucked.
He can't help but look up again. And it's torture. When did things get so different between them? Maybe he should start something with her. Throw a paper ball at her and piss her off, some sense of normalcy.
But did he really want that normal? The sick part is, is that he does want to fight with her. He wants to rile her up and make her violent, but everything they used to argue about feels so pointless now.
He wants to fight about something new. He's just not sure what.
Maybe fight is not the word you're thinking about.
He clenches his jaw and drives his pencil into the paper, the point breaking with a crack.
He doesn't know how long he stares down at the broken lead — long enough for a small hand to reach out and place a freshly sharpened pencil on his desk.
He looks up just in time to see her sit back down. She tilts her head, questioning for just a second before rolling her eyes, the smallest smile playing on her lips, and turning back around.
His body is so tired that the way his heart beats feels like an echo. He feels it all through his limbs, through all of his veins, trying to wake up the parts of him that have fallen apart.
Was it that loud? And how does she know that's like, the only pencil he has? Come to think about it, he stole it off the floor a week or two ago…
"Ranma…"
Why does his name sound so far away?
"Ranma."
Something… on his shoulder…
"Ranma!"
With a heavy shake, he's startled back to reality. He jumps in his seat, hands up in the air as he turns his stiff neck to face—
"A-Akane!" he says, forcing his body to relax. "Wh-what—"
"It's lunch time," she says, tapping her fingers on the edge of his desk. "You weren't paying attention all morning, were you?"
They both look down at his blank paper. He looks at her and shakes his head unnecessarily.
She giggles. "Oh, Ranma…"
He chuckles nervously, feeling almost delirious. He slumps back in his seat and hangs his arm behind the head of the chair, opening his bag without looking. He did take his lunch today, right?
Oh, he's hungry. He hasn't eaten in at least twelve hours. But for him, it may as well be twenty four. No. Thirty two. His stomach growls loudly as the hunger pangs through him painfully, his stomach constricting. And forces him to lean forward, head hitting the desk.
"Oh, poor Ranma… don't worry, I took your bento box this morning. I figured if you ended up coming to school, you'd forget to take it…"
She carefully pushes him to a sitting position. Okay, his hunger and exhaustion has officially rendered him stupefied. She clucks her tongue and lays the bento box gently in front of him after taking his notes off his desk.
"Eat now. I'll be right back," she says after bending behind his chair and slipping his things inside his bag.
He blinks himself out of his daze, as if it was actually her presence taking him out and not his lack of self-care. He licks his lips and opens his bento.
He nearly salivates at the sight of tamagoyaki, onigiri, and vegetables, even though it didn't seem like enough with how hungry he is. He'll take anything he can get right now. He immediately bites into one onigiri, pleased to find that there's shrimp inside. He thanks the Gods for Kasumi as he feels his energy being restored.
"Wow, you're almost done already?!" Akane says, appearing out of nowhere and making him
pause in the middle of a bite. "Wait, why am I surprised?" She rolls her eyes before setting a container down in front of him. "I got you orange juice. It'll make you feel better."
Maybe it's because she's giving him that smile. Or because she's tucking her hair behind her ear. Or the fact that she went out of her way to get him a drink when he hadn't even noticed how thirsty he is.
Thirsty, alright.
His own smile is uneasy, wavering like water. "Th-thanks, 'kane, you didn't hafta—"
Her face pulls into a dead stare so quickly that it actually scares him. He gulps and holds his chopsticks in front of him.
Her voice is eerily steady. "You better start taking care of yourself. Or else." And as fast as it left, her smile returns. "Okay?"
He nods, suddenly determined to do just as she said— out of fear or respect, he's not sure. He finishes every last bit of food and chugs the orange juice down. For some reason, it tastes better than he remembers.
As he's wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he glances her way. She's laughing at something her friends are saying. Damn, he wants to make her laugh again.
He watches as she pauses and glances down at her own food, fiddling with her chopsticks before setting them down. She turns abruptly and he looks away before she can catch him staring.
"Hey, Ranma. You still hungry?"
At that, he doesn't hide his desperation. If he had a tail, it'd be wagging right about now. She's practically spoiling him today.
Really, he wouldn't mind getting used to it.
"You can have the rest of mine." She walks over and places her bento in front of him.
Chicken katsu over rice… damn, how is he still starving?
But how come she barely ate it herself? Barely a quarter's gone…
He looks up at her, brows furrowed in concern. "You sure? How come you didn't eat much?"
She shrugs, pulling her lips to one side. "That doesn't ever happen to you, Ranma? When you just can't eat?"
He chuckles, shaking his head as she goes back to her seat, a cheeky smile on her face. Did she have to be so annoyingly cute?
He finishes it in no time, finding the taste of the katsu different, but definitely still delicious. He empties her bento like he did his and leans back, rubbing his stomach.
"Whew. You're a lifesaver, 'kane."
She grins brightly, hands on her cheeks. "You liked it?"
He raises a brow and laughs. "Yeah, 'course I did, why wouldn't I—" His eyes go wide. "Wait… you…"
She nods her head enthusiastically, legs bouncing up and down. "Yes. I did."
He sits up, staring at her empty lunch box. "But how… what… where… when… why… you…"
She just about shrieks in excitement. And somewhere past his disbelief, his heart swells in pride.
"I asked Kasumi to guide me, step-by-step. She oversaw my craft… and helped me correct every little mistake! I made it last night, while you were in the dojo!"
He beams at her, wondering how he could miss that. Usually, she's so loud in the kitchen. "It was really good, Akane, I'm impressed!"
She flutters her eyelashes and looks down, all innocent and flushed and oh, she's doing it again. Making his chest feel all funny as she reacts to him. "That means a lot, Ranma," she says softly, her gratitude so thick in the air between them.
He's so proud of her. And he knows just how proud she is of herself, too. He laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
Even though gym is inside, she doesn't understand why the girls still have to wear their shorts. She's freezing her ass off watching the boys play basketball.
She'd rather play herself than stay here and chat! But it's not like it's her choice.
And it's not like it's all bad either.
No matter what he does, his physicality always translates so well. It doesn't matter that he doesn't play other sports often — he's a natural, practically flying across the court with a strong grace she can only dream of having. He's so in control of himself, the ball, the game, of her. It's embarrassing. Humiliating. Mortifying.
Who told him to look so handsome today?
It's making her pulse skip. It's keeping her in a trance. It's making her mind have to jumpstart whenever her friends call her name.
She crosses her arms over her chest, teeth chattering. But once he's passing by her again, she goes loose and warm all over, a simmering heat spreading low in her belly.
And then even moreso, as he looks her way.
As a matter of fact, he's been glancing at her the whole period, like he's checking to see if she's looking. And of course, she's never looked away. How can she? He's running on next to no hours of sleep, carrying a pretty intense game of basketball like it's nothing.
Actually, she can't stop staring at him. It has to be because he actually liked her cooking for once. And complimented it. And now it's doing weird to her mind. Making her eyes stay on him, her vision practically tunneling over.
He stops, shooting the ball from a good distance away. It goes right through the hoop, but that's not a surprise, and that's not what keeps her interest. It's the way his arms looked as he threw. His back as it flexed. That self-absorbed smirk of his as he scored.
He glances over his shoulder, peering at her. She squints her eyes, telling him without words, don't be so arrogant, you were gonna get it, anyway.
The corner of his mouth twitches in amusement. She crosses her arms underneath her chest and tucks her hands under her arms. She also crosses her legs and shakes her head. What a show-off.
"Wow, the boys are really into this game, huh?" Yuka says.
She wouldn't know. Her eyes have only been on Ranma. Not like she'll tell her friends that, though.
"Especially Ranma… how many times has he scored already?" Sayuri replies.
"A lot! Akane, he was so good before, but now he's even better!" Yuka says.
Akane pfffts and cranes her neck, one brow raised. "It's because he thinks everything is a martial art. He's taking this way too seriously."
"What's wrong with that? It's fun to watch!" Sayuri says.
Akane shrugs, too entranced to let it irritate her. "He just does so much, all the time. It's unnecessary."
She feels her friends glance at each other before turning their attention back to the game. She furrows her brows together in concentration.
She's not wrong. Ranma does do way too much.
Especially now. Why is he putting in so much effort? There's no way he's not pushing himself to perform this well.
He runs a bit too close to the edge of the court, close to where she's sitting in the front row, and smirks. She hmphs. All she can see are the bags under his eyes.
"Idiot," she mutters under her breath.
Or maybe not. Her friends turn to her, perplexed. "Is it because he's been looking at you the whole time?" Sayuri says, putting a hand on her shoulder.
She huffs. "That idiot is showing off for no reason."
"Then maybe… don't look at him? Akane, let's try something," Yuka says, leaning in and whispering between the three of them. "Pretend like you're not interested anymore."
She tilts her head, blinking. "Why?"
Yuka giggles, and so does Sayuri as she catches on. "Trust us."
She hesitates before agreeing, pretending to check her nails as her friends chatter about nonsense. It makes her nervous, but she complies, using an abnormal amount of willpower to keep herself from checking out Ranma — checking on Ranma. God.
She laughs from nerves and the fake conversation she's in the middle of. They're speaking gibberish at this point. But it's not until Yuka squeezes her arm that she finally looks up, immediately finding Ranma directly in front of her line of vision. With a startled expression, he trips, but catches himself right away before running off to the other side of the court.
She blinks, not even knowing what to think. A laugh escapes her at his reaction. What kind of face was that?
On either side of her, her friends burst out in laughter, gripping each arm and rocking her between them. She forces herself out of their grasp. "What? What is it?"
Yuka leans in, her smile way too big to be anything good. "It hasn't even been five minutes and he looked at you, like, twenty times. Probably more."
Her eyes bug out, heat instantly creeping up her neck. "Hmm?"
"Yeah, and by the second time he realized you weren't looking, he got sooo sad. Like some kicked puppy," Sayuri snickers. "I've never seen him look so disappointed!"
She stares down at her lap in shock as Yuka chimes back in. "Akane, we've been telling you, he's got it bad for ya… he's literally tripping over you! C'mon!"
"B-b-b-but—" she stutters, an inexplicable feeling of shame building pressure inside of her.
"Not only that, he started playing a bit worse once he realized you weren't paying attention. Hey, you okay? You can look now, if you don't want him to lose," Sayuri says.
How is she supposed to feel about this? It's like her insides are twisting and turning, trying to level but finding no comfortable place to settle. The sudden emotion pushes tears to her eyes. She blinks them away, brushing her fingertips over her thighs. She sighs deeply.
"Serves him right for being such a show-off," she says, holding her head high, her attention back on the game.
And as soon as her focus is back on him, his is on her, too.
She's not prepared for it.
There was no precursor, no warning. But there aren't any for a single, subtle action.
It's not fair. The way it devastates her. Shakes her up. The butterflies in her tummy melt and electrify and ruin her.
The way half a second can take away her whole entire sense of self is beyond her.
He winked at her.
And he had even more audacity to freaking smile right after.
And a single moment later, she has no hope of recovering. She's struck with a sudden loss of control, her body reacting without her permission. She's warm and buzzing all over. Feeling too full and too empty. Incomplete, somehow. Like she's lost something she's never even had.
She's longing.
Like she's missing him.
Like he's hers and she had him for real.
The feeling envelopes her in its sickly sweet syrup. She presses her leg hard on top of the other. All of it is addicting. All of it makes her want to run away.
She wants to go to him and forget his existence at the same time, with the same amount of desire, in equal measure.
Everything around them drowns out. He shoots the winning shot and the gym erupts into cheers.
Across the room, through the crowd of people, he finds her eyes and holds them.
And for the time, she lets herself believe that it means more than it does.
