Of Paths and Promises – Part 1
"46... 47... 48.." Ranma grunted as she struggled against gravity, feeling her lower abdominal and pelvic muscles stretch and contract. And burn. Definitely burn. Her face was red with exertion as she neared the end of her set.
Only two more, she thought, you can do this. She scrunched her face up in determination as slowly, painfully, she forced her body to do her bidding. Once again, her torso rose and fell, almost but not quite reaching the ground. Her body begged her for relief from its task. She refused, shaking as she forced every last bit of strength out of her core, it wasn't enough and she grimaced as she was forced to engage her shoulders and quadriceps to finish. Bad form. Her torso fell with a thwump and she forced her breathing to slow, individually relaxing her abused muscles.
She was pleased to discover over the past week that although her conditioning had taken a turn for the worse, her awareness and control over her muscle groups had not regressed nearly as badly. Gotta look on the bright side, when y'can. She exhaled air from her nose dismissively, How else could anyone survive the crazy shit I have to put up with?
She and Ryoga had finally managed to make it out of the woods, both literally and figuratively, having found the main road just this morning. Progress was slow at first, due to the extra care they took for her condition, but after the third day of travel, she felt most of the effects of her concussion subside. Her appetite returned in full, and she started introducing basic muscle conditioning exercises into their schedule, before breakfast and dinner. Today was the peak of her rotation, she would be resting up tomorrow to ensure that she didn't sustain lasting muscular exhaustion.
Their trip so far had been made mostly in silence. Ryoga seemed hesitant to bring up anything related to Ranma's condition, which was fine by her. She really didn't want to hear it. The silence was occasionally broken by observations about their surroundings and brief conversations revolving around when to take rest and meal breaks.
As her muscles recovered enough oxygen that she was fairly confident she could move them without incurring further strain, a series of rhythmic, high-pitched squeals reached Ranma's ears. She turned to see Ryoga, in his cursed form, scampering towards her. She voiced an inquisitive "Hmm?" as he approached.
"Buhi-buhi!" he squealed as he came to a stop in front of her. The cadence of it Ranma recognized as him trying to vocalize her name. She stood up, walked over to his pack, unscrewed the thermos that he kept on hand for situations like this and poured the hot water over the pig, careful to cover her eyes as the transformation took hold. "Thanks," he said, tentatively, while grabbing fresh clothes from his pack.
Ranma grunted in response, looked thoughtful for a minute, then proclaimed, "I'll get yer other clothes," as she walked off in the direction Ryoga ran from. Ryoga did his best to look appreciative as she left before rolling his eyes as he pulled out the cookwear from his pack and started boiling the rice.
It took Ranma a few minutes of tracking Ryoga backwards, but she eventually found his clothes resting in a medium-sized puddle, next to a pile of sticks and branches. At a glance, she guessed that something caused him to move suddenly, lose his footing and fall backward into the puddle. Gathering the clothes under one arm and the sticks under the other, she made her way back to camp.
Ryoga and Ranma's camp was set up a stones throw away from the road, so that they could wave down a vehicle should they be fortunate enough to have one pass by. Ranma handed the bundle to Ryoga. He walked over to his pack, took a small mesh laundry bag out and stuffed the wet clothing inside. Ranma then placed the sticks by their makeshift fire pit, noting with some chagrin that her right arm felt relief letting go of its burden.
Ranma-chan and Ryoga set about making dinner in relative silence, as they had spent the majority of their trek so far. For the life of Ryoga he seemed to be unable to say anything that wouldn't offend the great princess Saotome. Any offer of assistance was seen as him patronizing her and any observation about their surrounding was met with one of her typical acerbic quips. As fed up as he was getting, however, he couldn't up and leave her in the woods. For one thing, that would be dishonorable and for another, having her along was incredibly helpful. As loathe as he was to admit it, her sense of direction probably saved him a few days on getting back to Tokyo, even with her conditioning slowing them down. Maybe if she wasn't such an enormous prick about it; about everything, they could actually act like something approaching friends. During the few instances in which they put aside their differences, Ryoga and Ranma actually had pretty good rapport up until Ranma would inevitably put his foot in his mouth. It was that habit that Ryoga hated most about him. Particularly how it affected the woman he loved. Akane-san had a heart of glass, just like him, only when it broke she turned to anger as her consoling emotion. Ranma didn't understand that his harsh, thoughtless words were emotional sucker-punches. Ryoga glanced over at Ranma, stoking the fire she had made, gazing quietly into the crackling embers. Maybe this isn't such a bad thing. He might actually learn some humility this time around.
Ranma stared into the fire, watching as the flames crackled around the tinder Ryoga had gathered. She threw a few more sticks into the pyre, watching it stutter, momentarily, and then flare up even brighter. The fire drew her in, coaxing out her innermost thoughts. She idly observed at the edge of her vision that Ryoga had placed the pot of rice on the spit. She felt conflicting emotions regarding the bandanna-clad boy at the moment. On the one hand, she was thankful for his presence and his aid, she would not have had an easy time trekking as far as she had without him. On the other, she was irritated with him for how he treated her. He was just so damn careful about whatever he said. She could tell that he was walking on eggshells and it pissed her off. If she were a guy right now, they'd be throwing insults back and forth as if nothing was wrong. But because she was a girl right now, he had to go and treat her like one, with all of his dopey notions of chivalry. Ranma hated it when people treated him differently as a girl. He couldn't help but notice that people were more careful around her when she was female, treating her like she was delicate, giving her extra food and treating her particularly nicely. They also tried to pressure her to be more delicate and dainty, Sit with your legs closed, eat slowly, don't speak out or interrupt people. Obviously she ignored all of these social cues but the pressure was always there, always present in the disapproving glances of passersby and people who didn't know who she was. What he was. As a man he didn't have to worry about what people thought. He made his own rules. People didn't assume they had an open invitation to correct his behavior. If they didn't like what he did, they were the ones that had to deal with that. They were more than welcome to step up and challenge him over it, which they frequently did, and then he handed their butts back to them. Grievance settled.
She let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding and refocused on making their meal. After the rice and fish were finished, they ate, both of them expressing soft grunts of appreciation for the quality of the food. There was something uniquely satisfying about catching and preparing your dinner over a campfire at the end of the day.
Something started to build in the air, a tension of sorts, now that they had food in their bellies it seemed like both Ranma and Ryoga had something to say, but were both reluctant to speak. They found themselves staring at each other, exchanging facial microexpressions until Ryoga broke the silence. Or perhaps more accurately, the silence broke Ryoga. "I'm sick of your bullshit, Ranma Saotome." Ranma's brows furrowed and her eyes got wide, preparing for outrage. Ryoga cut her off before she began, "You tell me not to treat you like a damsel and then you go ahead and act like a princess, snipping at me for every little thing, acting like a powder keg waiting to go off. Get over yourself. Considering I was nursing your ass back to health about a week ago from a concussion, it is understandable for me to be concerned. So grow up and act like a man. Or at least an adult."
Ranma's expression darkened over the course of Ryoga's tirade. "Ya done?" She asked in a husky voice thick with emotion. Ryoga drew himself upright, crossed his arms and said, guardedly, "Yes."
"Good," Ranma began, rage creeping into her voice. "Because I'm sick of yer bullshit too. Ya ever consider I wouldn't BE in this situation if you'd taken a damn moment to listen to what I had to say? If anyone listened to what I had to say? Don't go insinuatin' that I'm ungrateful to you making up for th' mess you put me in. I told you to stop treating me like a damn flower, figures it'd take you this long to follow a simple goddamn instruction. You're as lost in how to deal with people as ya are in the rest of yer damn life."
"How dare you?" Ryoga roared, standing upright and rearing his fist back, body preparing to charge.
Ranma fell back into a defensive stance, "What're ya going to do, hit me again? Become a goddamn murderer?" Ranma's body tensed, preparing for the worst.
Ryoga's arm fell and he straightened up. "No, you don't get to die until you can defend yourself and I beat you fair and square. But y'know what, Ranma? You want me to treat you like a man? Then I'm going to tell it to you straight. You take everything and everyone around you for granted. You have 3 beautiful girls who follow you around everywhere you go and practically worship the ground you walk on, and you don't give any of them the time of day. You have a father who spars with you every morning and trained you from birth who you treat like shit, you have a mother who you hardly spend any time with because you're worried about disappointing her and you live in a privately owned home in the middle of Tokyo that you don't pay any rent for or contribute to in any meaningful manner. There's a beautiful woman who cooks delicious meals for you every day, and you still complain about everything in your life." Ryoga let out a long breath, "You're spoiled, childish, hurtful and mean and I have no clue why you mean anything to someone like Akane-san."
A pregnant pause followed Ryoga's last words, each of them glaring at the other, Ranma's face on the verge between indignant and furious. It looked for a moment as if she were going to say something, but instead, in choppy angry motions she grabbed a log, lit it in the fire, turned and stalked off into the woods. Ryoga considered calling a biting comment after her but thought better of it, deciding to leave it as it was. If she didn't come back by tomorrow afternoon, then he'd take that to mean that she wasn't coming back. He packed up the leftover food into a small plastic storage container, threw the last of the logs into the fire, unfurled his sleeping bag and settled down for the night.
An hour passed and try as he might, Ryoga couldn't manage to fall asleep. He spent most of the time twisting and turning, getting closer and farther away from the fire. With a jerk, he pulled his torso up, the open hole of his sleeping bag falling down to just below his chest. With bags under his eyes, he sighed heavily and wriggled his way out of the warm, polyester pocket. He reached down into his pack, pulled out a flashlight, flicked it on and set about looking for his nemesis. After 20 minutes of walking through the brush, worried that he had now lost his camp, he heard a rhythmic sound in the distance.
thwack, thwack, thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. The sound got louder as he got closer to the origin, bringing up his light on the pigtailed girl, crouched in a horse-stance, punching a thin tree repeatedly in the same spot. Ranma straightened up and turned toward the source of the light, regarding Ryoga with a neutral expression. Ryoga could see in the light that every bit of exposed skin was slick with sweat. Her chest heaved with great breaths, gradually slowing down as the two of them faced off against each other. Ranma's eyebrow quirked up as if to say "well?"
"I'm sorry," Ryoga began, "What I said back there was..." Brutally honest? "Uncalled for."
"Ya think?" Ranma snarled. Giving Ryoga a moment to follow up. When she was met with silence, she continued, "My life must seem pretty damn blessed from th' outside, but y'know what Ryoga? It really ain't. People treat me like shit. I've got little ta no say in what goes on. Everyone around me 's got an agenda and none of 'em have my personal well being on 'em. If I had'n ounce of control in my life it'd be one thing, but as it is..." Ranma bit back what she was about to say next, having second thoughts about opening up about her insecurities to her frenemy. "You have no right ta judge my situation with the Tendos or my relationship with my folks. I fucked up in China, alright. I should've been more careful about where I was going and when I knocked ya off that cliff I should have come down and helped ya out or somethin'. I owe you for that." Ranma swallowed, "After I recover from this," She gestured to her body, "You an' I are going to settle our differences, once and for all. No rematches, no excuses."
After a short pause, Ryoga nodded, "We should get back to camp," Ryoga started, holding out the flashlight, "Can you lead the way?"
Ranma nodded, grabbed the flashlight and started off in a direction that Ryoga was pretty sure was the wrong way, before he caught himself and followed suit. The two of them trekked back to their modest encampment just in time to catch the telltale pair of lights signaling that a truck was coming down the road.
~~~.~~~.~~~
The sound of birds chirping carried in the crisp autumn air as Ranma Saotome strode into town, canvas bag hefted over one shoulder, a determined look in his eyes. He walked with purpose, his eyes and mouth pulled into a tense grimace, a telling countenance that held both apprehension and resolution. He walked up to a white building with red banners proclaiming the shop name to the busy street, a matching red curtain hanging over the sliding door at the entrance. Steeling himself, he grabbed hold of handle, pulled the sliding door open and walked inside. The restaurant was rather empty, its only patron an old man sipping noodles in the corner. He walked up to the counter and rang the bell. A few moments passed before an old, shrivelled woman with flowing white hair rounded the corner separating the dining space from the kitchen. Her eyes took on a predatory aspect as she greeted him. "It has been a while, son-in-law."
Author Notes:
Happy New Years guys! Sorry about the wait. I've been distracted with work. I started this piece back when I was in college and joining the workforce took pretty much all of my attention, but now that I'm getting into a place where I'm comfortable in my field, I'll be continuing to produce chapters at a semi-regular pace. Here's to the new year, and all that we hope to accomplish in it.
-Cat5