Chapter Two

Four years later

It was springtime.

Ranma looked out aross the backyard, feeling the fresh, slightly mild April breeze brush across his face. The small tree in the backyard was just starting to bud with cherry blossoms. A koi flickered in the pond, making the water ripple. Ranma went back inside, and headed for the laundry room. With the house all to himself, it left him time to think. As he made his way to the laundry room, he took in the walls around him. Little had changed. The Tendo Dojo was the same ancient building he'd known since the day he arrived on the shoulder of a panda.

Okay, so maybe a few bits and pieces are new, Ranma thought, what with all the holes that were made in the walls that had to be patched up.

Ranma started pulling the clean clothes out of the dryer, and folding them and placing them into the basket on the floor beside him. Even after four years, it was still hard to take in the fact the residents of the Tendo Dojo had lessened to just two. His father mostly stayed at his mother's house now, as did Soun. The two fathers dropped in now and then to see how things were holding up with classes. Nabiki had moved away quite a while ago, to go to university to study business and trade, which surprised nobody, of course. Kasumi was still in the neighbourhood, and was even starting a family of her own. Now, it was just him and Akane.

Akane was currently out doing some shopping, which left Ranma alone to do housework. Finishing with the clean clothes, he opened the washing machine, threw the damp clothes in the dryer, started the machine and began putting more dirty clothes in the washer.

"It never ends," Ranma sighed. "and half of this ain't even mine. Girls and all their dumb clothes...what the heck does she need so many clothes for, anyways? Man."

Ranma finished putting the load in, and started the washer. Brushing his hands off, he made his way over to the kitchen to start the next task. Ranma walked into the kitchen and gave the full sink a dirty look. Dammit, cleaning dishes sucked. Why couldn't they just buy a freaking dishwasher? Ranma started on his chore, boredly washing a cup.

"She's out livin' it up, shoppin' for even more clothes I bet...and I'm stuck here washin' cups. Boy, what I wouldn't give for Pantyhose Taro or...or hell, maybe even Kodachi to just bust down a wall right about now. At least then I'd have sumthin' more excitin' to do." Ranma grumbled to himself. He knew complaining wouldn't make the dishes just magically become clean and get put away, but it helped. A guy can dream.

Ranma went about his task in silence, the only sound was the clinking of dishes, the sloshing dishwater, the cloth wiping against cups and bowls, the rushing water of the tap as he rinsed away suds. As the tap ran, Ranma heard a noise that sounded like it came from the front hall. Shutting off the sink, he could better hear the shuffling noises as the front door closed. Akane back from her shopping spree, he thought idly. He searched around in the soapy water for a dish, rinsed away the bubbles, then started wiping it dry. He listened to the footfalls, as they became louder. Ranma hoped to every deity imaginable Akane hadn't gone out and bought him more clothes. Hadn't she realized by now he was perfectly fine in his comfy Chinese shirts? He didn't care what she said, they were not small on him. He turned around, hoping he wouldn't see an excited Akane with copious amounts of shopping bags clutched in her hands.

Which he didn't.

A man Ranma had never seen before stood by the kitchen entryway. This man had dark brown hair that nearly touched his shoulders and was very unkempt. His eyes were hazel and jaded, with dark shadows beneath them. His clothes were filthy and torn in places, his face smudged in grime. A dirty, ungroomed man who stared straight into his eyes, and through the dirt Ranma saw recognition in those man's tired irises.

"...Ranma," he whispered.

The wires connected, and a spark went off in Ranma's brain. A spark that lit something inside of him; an old, forgotten fire.

The dish slipped from his fingers and shattered almost completely as it collided with the floor. The man jumped at the loud crash, and stared open-mouthed at the hundreds of shards on the kitchen floor.

"Ryoga?" Ranma's voice came out sounding alien to him.

The man's face lit up. "Yes," he said softly. "it's me, Ranma."

The fire in his brain spread madly, consuming everything and muddling all of his thoughts. Thousands of emotions hit him like blows all at once and made his head spin. His burning skull felt like it had been split open with a crowbar. He grabbed his head, shutting his eyes tightly, trying to block out all of the confusing thoughts and feelings coursing through him. His mind seemed to shift, to flip somehow, and suddenly his thoughts were clear, and one emotion struck him.

"Nothing!" Ranma yelled. "Four goddamn years, and not a thing!"

Ryoga blinked. "What...?" he blurted.

"You bloody well know! No letters, no phonecalls...nothing! Why?" Ranma stormed around the island and towards Ryoga. "Why, dammit?"

Ryoga opened his mouth to retort. Ranma threw his arm back then struck Ryoga in the face, making his head snap to side at the force of the blow.

"You fucking idiot!" Ranma spat. "You're supposed to be dead!"

"Ranma, please, I'm-"

"All this time...all this time you were alive, and what? You didn't ever think that maybe you should in the least pick up a fucking phone and tell me that? That maybe, just maybe, I'd like to hear that you're alive and didn't get killed by some...some damned earthquake..."

"Ranma...Ranma, I know that you've been through a bad time, and..."

"How could you be so damn selfish? So...so..."

"Ranma, please, please can we just go back to normal?"

Suddenly Ranma's ugly mask of rage melted away and turned deeply solemn. His shoulders drooped as the adrenaline leaked out of him, and he lowered his gaze.

Ryoga took a step forward, concerned. "Ranma?" he asked, reaching out a hand.

When Ranma looked back up, there was a look in his eye that made Ryoga feel something akin to nostalgia. An old light lay within Ranma's eyes. Something about it made Ryoga frown in confusion, and he couldn't quite place the feeling he felt when he looked at his face. Ranma scoffed suddenly, and swatted Ryoga's hovering hand away. Ryoga's eyes widened, and he stared at Ranma, confused.

"What are ya talkin' about, moron? Waddaya mean by 'normal', huh?" Ranma demanded.

Ryoga quirked an eyebrow. His voice changed?

"Uh...I'm talking about us, Ranma. You and I, together again." Ryoga explained.

Ranma looked at Ryoga like he'd spontaneously grown elephant ears. "Ha ha, very funny, P-chan." he said with a strange chuckle.

Ryoga bristled at the old nickname, which now felt like a horrible insult, like it used to when they were younger. Ranma's voice was so distant and hurtful somehow, all of a sudden.

"Ranma...I'm being serious. We...we love each other." Ryoga said quietly.

Ranma burst into nervous laugher. "Whoa, whoa, whoa...what are you talkin' about, man? I'm a guy, okay? We're buddies, yeah, but that's all!"

"Wh-what's gotten into you, Ranma?" Ryoga asked incredulously.

"Gee, porkchop, I was just about to ask you that." Ranma said, voice oozing sarcasm.

"Ranma..."

Ranma held up his hands, taking a step back from Ryoga. "Look, man, I'm married, okay?"

"Yeah, to me!" Ryoga cried.

"No, dimwit!" Ranma snapped, taking another step back, looking appalled.

"Well if it isn't me, then who?" Ryoga asked in exasperation.

"Who else, moron? Akane!" Ranma replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Ya know, that chick I was engaged to? The one you snuck into bed with as a pig? That Akane?"

"Wha...What? You...married Akane?" Ryoga nearly whispered.

"Yeah, of course, stupid!" Ranma held up his left hand and pointed sharply to a silver band on his ring finger. "See? Hitched!"

Ryoga gaped at the silver ring, jaw slack. He couldn't believe it. Ranma was actually telling the truth. He had married Akane. How could he...replace him so easily? All those times he'd gotten lost for weeks, even months at a time...Ranma always waited for him. Always.

Why couldn't you wait for me?

Ranma crossed his arms, and looked off at nothing. "I'm sure you're devasted, pig boy. You had a crush somethin' awful on Akane, but...that's in the past now. We're married now, and takin' over the dojo. As my friend, yer just gonna hafta accept that, pal."

Ryoga shook his head, shutting his eyes. This isn't happening. "I don't love her, Ranma. I love you."

Ranma snorted. "I think you need ta get yer head checked out, porkbutt. Yer givin' me the creeps." Ranma looked serious all of a sudden. "I think you should go."

Ryoga opened his mouth, then closed it again. His shoulders drooped and he looked away. Ranma unfolded his arms, and walked past Ryoga. "I'll walk you out." he muttered.

Ryoga had no choice but to turn and follow behind Ranma as he headed for the front door. On the way, something on the wall caught Ryoga's eye. It was a photo of a child who looked about two years old. Ryoga stopped walking, and turned to stare at the picture. Ranma noticed Ryoga had stopped following him, and turned around.

Ryoga's face had turned dark. "Cute kid." he said bitterly.

Ranma frowned. "Yeah," he said. "I guess she is."

Ryoga took in a shaky breath, and laughed strangely.

"What's so funny?" Ranma grumbled.

"You slept with her," Ryoga said quietly. "didn't you?"

"What?" Ranma cried.

Ryoga turned to face him, his face red with anger. "You slept with her! Then you had a goddamned kid with her?"

Ranma's eyes widened. He felt the burn in his mind again, but he pushed it away.

"That ain't my kid," Ranma said hotly. "it's Kasumi and Dr. Tofu's."

"Yeah, I'm sure it is." Ryoga scoffed sarcastically.

"It is!" Ranma snapped. He stormed up to Ryoga and jabbed a finger at the picture of the toddler. "Look at it, Ryoga. Does that kid look anythin' like me, or Akane? It's got brown hair, stupid, do me or Akane have brown hair?"

Ryoga looked at the picture, and realized Ranma was right. That didn't mean his anger was gone. "You screwed her, though."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You slept with Akane. No, scratch that, you're sleeping with Akane. You are married, after all." Ryoga said the word like it was venom on his lips.

Ranma felt the burn again, then the strange shift in his mind.

"I...no...I mean, yes, but..." Ranma searched for words desperately, feeling his throat close up. "I-it was only once...the honeymoon...and now we...Ryoga, I..."

Ryoga stared at him, noticing the abrupt change in his posture, his expression, and his speech. Then, Ranma shook his head quickly, and when he opened his eyes again that same old light was back. His posture shifted just so, as he suddenly became angry again.

"Wh-what I do with my wife has nothing to do with you!" Ranma hollered.

Ryoga ground his teeth together. "It has everything to do with me!" he boomed. "I'm your husband, Ranma! Or at least I was before you gave up on me and replaced me!"

"Listen, bud, I ain't married married to you, okay? I'm married to Akane, and you ain't doin' nothin' to change that, you got that?" Ranma shouted.

There he goes again. He keeps talking like he did when he was a kid.

Ryoga's anger faded as this thought went through his mind, and he stood up straight, staring at Ranma with a blank expression. Ranma continued to glare at him, fist clenched, his stance placed as if he were expecting Ryoga to suddenly attack him, like he used to do when they were kids. When they just sparred to solve their problems.

"All right, then." Ryoga said. "I guess I'll leave you both alone."

Ryoga walked past Ranma and out the door. Ranma stayed in his spot, not moving an inch as he listened to the door shut softly behind him, then he came slowly out of his battle stance, standing up straight. He stayed there for a long time before deciding to head out to the dojo.

Outside, Ryoga walked down the street and played his entire arguement with Ranma in his head over and over. Ranma had been acting strange, that much was for certain. It was as if his personality had altered, swapping back and forth. The Ranma that had screamed at him, struck him, asked him why he never contacted him...that was his Ranma. A very worried, relieved and frustrated version of his Ranma, of course. The Ranma who had no idea how to handle his feelings so he acted in anger because it was common ground. He wasn't upset with Ranma for hitting him, or screaming at him. After all, that Ranma he saw was his shred of hope. That Ranma was the Ranma he'd married.

Then, there was the other Ranma. Or, in a sense, the old Ranma. At least, that was how he acted. He was even dressing like his old self again; Ryoga remembered that Ranma had soon started wearing regular clothes soon after they were married, only using his Chinese clothes for spars with him. Now, he was back to wearing them full-time. Not only that, but he even spoke like he used to. Ranma had weaned off of the incorrect 'ain'ts' and whatnot, and his crude drawl had slowly improved into something more mature, but still wholly Ranma. Ryoga had heard both today; when Ranma flopped to the Ranma he knew, he spoke regularly, and when he flipped back to the "other" Ranma, he had that old drawl back in his voice.

Why is he acting like he's sixteen again?

Why did he keep switching back between what seemed like two seperate personalities? Has he always been doing that, or...have I caused that, by showing up in his life again?

Did he make himself think he was sixteen, so he could essentially "forget" about me? About us? That has to be it. Why else would he act that way?

Like he said, though, that Ranma he'd seen when he first walked in...that was his Ranma. His shred of hope. If just him coming back into his life again was enough for Ranma to bring out that side of him again, then there had to be a way to pull it out, and keep it out. Ryoga clenched his fists, and started walking with purpose in his step.

I guess that's what I'm going to have to do, Ryoga thought. I'll have to make him love me all over again.

Why. Won't. This. Damn. Thing. Break?

Ranma lashed out another flurry of punches at the practice dummy, which usually would have broken by now. In frustration, Ranma let out an angry yell and swung up his leg and kicked the dummy in what would be the abdomen of a real person. It swung back, but jolted back up straight, unharmed.

"Goddammit!" Ranma hissed. With a near-shriek he rapidly kicked the dummy, not caring where he struck it now.

"Ranma?"

Ranma heard the voice but he didn't stop his assault. With another cry, he kicked it with all of his might, and at last heard the delightful crack of wood as the dummy flew off it's post and across the yard. Ranma watched it fly, heaving and sweating buckets.

"Ranma,"

Finally he turned around to look at his wife, who stood several paces away, her brow etched in concern. Ranma scoffed, snatching his towel and wiping the sweat from his face before snapping the towel over his shoulder.

"I'm gonna take a bath." he muttered, walking into the house, leaving a confused and worried Akane in the yard, watching his retreating back.

Ranma walked up the stairs and into the bathroom, quickly shucking off his sweaty clothes and tossing them into the hamper. Grabbing a clean towel and wrapping it around his waist, he opened the shogi doors and entered the furo. He filled the bath to the brim with scalding hot water and sank in, grimacing as the water hurt his already-hot skin. After a moment of pain he relaxed, his muscles loosening. He sighed, sinking low into the water until it lapped over his whole head. He opened his eyes under the water, staring at the bright lights of the furo, warped by the rippling water. Then, he saw a moving shape, and an unforgettable shade of blue. He resurfaced, dripping wet, to meet Akane's gaze.

She stood over the bath, wrapped in a small towel. She said nothing, but her eyes asked him for invitation. Ranma sighed, sitting up in the water and pulling up his legs slightly. Akane took that as admission, and pulled the towel away from her body. Ranma suddenly looked very interested in his knees. Akane stepped in, jumping at the tempurature. She sank in, and made a small, high pitched noise.

"It's boiling," she gasped.

"Ya get used to it." Ranma muttered, shifting awkwardly.

Akane bit her lip, obviously in pain as the overly hot water burned her flesh. She closed her eyes, waiting, and slowly her body relaxed. She sighed contently, making Ranma look up at her. She opened her eyes and flashed him a bright smile. He smirked, unable to not respond to her contagious smile, just like always.

"You seemed awfully upset back there," Akane said suddenly. "has something been bothering you?"

Ranma looked away again. "Nah," he said. "nothin' has been botherin' me. I was just trainin', is all."

Akane didn't believe him, but she knew not to start an arguement. He was in one of his stubborn moods again. "Okay..." she murmered.

Ranma simply nodded, still staring off at nothing. He heard the water slosh around, as Akane moved. He looked over, just as she came towards him. She sat beside him, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"You still seem pretty tense," Akane said quietly. "I can help you with that, you know. I am your wife, after all. It's part of my job."

Ranma opened his mouth to reply, but Akane cut off his words with a kiss. She sighed against his lips, roaming across his lips and the inside of his mouth with her tounge. She broke away, and gave him a coy little smile. Ranma went bright red, and looked away.

"You don't have to do a-anything." Ranma stammered.

Akane giggled. "Don't be silly. I'm doing this because I want to, baka." Akane kissed him again breifly, then down along his jaw, to his neck.

I'm your husband, Ranma!

Akane kissed along his collarbone, across his shoulder, down to his chest. One hand ran its fingers through his hair, the other trailed down his stomach, making him shudder.

Or at least I was before you gave up on me and replaced me!

Ranma's eyes shot open.

"Uh...th-the heat is making me dizzy. I better get out." Ranma muttered quickly, making Akane stop her administrations to look up at him.

"...You're kidding, right?" Akane said.

"My head is spinnin'. I gotta get out or I'm gonna pass out." Ranma untangled himself from Akane and hastily stood up while putting on his towel in one motion. Before Akane could retort, Ranma had sped out of the bathroom. Akane frowned, plopping down into the water with a pout. Ranma rushed down the hallway and ran into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He slid down until he sat on the floor, back pressed against the wall. He took a moment to collect himself, then opened his eyes. It was then he noticed he'd run into the guest bedroom, and not the room he shared with Akane.

Ranma bit his lip, looking around the empty, dark room. He turned around, placing his hand on the shogi door to leave, but stopped himself. A little voice told him that it was all right, for just one night, to stay. Another voice hollered at him to leave quickly, calling him a fool for leaving Akane alone in the bath.

She's your wife, right? Ain't cha allowed to touch her however you want? Kiss her. Tell her you love her and-

I'm your husband, Ranma!

Ranma turned around, and walked over to the bureau. He kept quite a lot of his clothes still in here. In Akane's room, there simply wasn't much room in her small closet for his and her clothes to all fit. Opening a drawer, he rifled through in search of something to sleep in (he never bothered to sort his clothes in any way, so it was all jumbled together). He came across a pair of boxers, and an old T-shirt. He pulled out the shirt, and realized he didn't recognize it. He held it up, examining it. The shirt was dark olive green in colour, and had a white star-like design on it that Ranma recognized as the Hokkaido flag logo.

Funny, Ranma thought. I've never been to Hokkaido.

Then he realized he knew someone who had. Over thirty times.

This is his shirt.

Without thinking, Ranma brought the shirt to his nose.

It even still smells like him.

Ranma unwrapped the towel from himself, and put on his boxers and the shirt. It sagged on him a little, the ends of the sleeves nearly reaching his elbows, and the hem of the shirt passing his waistline just a bit longer than he knew it would if it was Ryoga who was wearing the shirt. The sleeves would have been snug, reaching to the middle of his upperarm, hugging the wide muscle of his biceps just so, showing even beneath the fabric the inhuman power of his strong arms...

Ranma felt blood rush to his cheeks.

Where the hell did that come from? Why am I wearin' this anyways, it's Ryoga's, not mine! Why do I even have it?

You know the answer to that.

If I knew, why the heck would I ask?

Because you're deluding yourself.

This is stupid. Why am I fussin' so darn much over some stinkin', loudy shirt, for cryin' out loud? It's just a stupid shirt!

It's his shirt. Which makes it special.

It's just a freakin' SHIRT!

Oh God, he smells like trees. How on earth do you get to smell like trees? Why does he makes trees smell so good? Why have I always described it as the smell of a tree? What is a tree supposed to smell like? Why doesn't he smell like something more corny and typical, like strawberries or vanilla, like something out of one of those stupid teen romance novels? Akane always smells like vanilla...because of that perfume she has. Ryoga didn't get his scent out of a bottle...

Ranma shook his head wildly, and hurried over to the other side of the room, where the extra futon bedding lay. He rolled out his old futon and settled in, instantly relaxing into the soft comfort. He'd missed his futon all this time, he realized. Akane's Western bed was terribly uncomfortable, the mattress was as stiff as cardboard. Ryoga had one of those Western-style futons that folded in the middle to become a couch during the day, but he had rarely ever folded it up into it's couch form. Ranma liked Ryoga's bed, because it was like a Western bed without the backache-inducing discomfort.

Ranma nestled himself under the heavy, soft quilt. As sleep called for him, he didn't even care that he'd just brought up Ryoga again. He didn't complain either, when he closed his eyes and pretended he was lying in Ryoga's futon-bed, inhaling the scent of the down-filled pillow under his head that smelled like Ryoga's hair. As sleep pulled him under, his body too exhausted, he didn't try to deny the fact that the thought brought a warm smile to his face. Nor did he jolt himself awake from the following dream that occured as he was fully pulled into unconciousness...

Where his eyes fluttered open slowly to reveal Ryoga's face inches from his. He could even feel the morning sun, warm on his bare skin. Ryoga's hazel eyes, milk-chocolate brown with wisps of emerald green. His hair almost like liquid gold as the golden-yellow strands in his brown hair where illuminated by the morning light. Ranma felt the muscles in his mouth twitch as his lips pulled into a lazy smile. Ryoga grinned, showing off his protruding canines. He reached out slowly, and brushed Ranma's long black bangs away from his eyes. Ryoga's mouth moved, forming mute words.

"What was that?" Ranma heard his own voice come out, sounding like it was under water. Ryoga appeared as if he hadn't heard him, and shifted towards him, leaning in slowly. Then, there was a soft white glow that enveloped the scene before him, spreading across it like a flame over paper, until everything was perfectly white.

Then Ranma woke up.

Author's Note:

Wooooot! :D Ryoga isn't dead! Haha you guys didn't actually think I would kill that dude off, did ya? If I did that, we wouldn't have a story. O.O

Yup. Like I said in the first chapter, shit shall meet the fan. And spew all over the damn place. Ew. Gross.

Anyways, I hope you guys can understand Ranma's, er, mental issues. As Ryoga (that smart bastard) pointed out, Ranma has in fact made himself believe that he's sixteen again. Why? Well, y'all will find that out later. ;)

Stay tuned for Chapter Three of Vow...where Ryoga gets persistant and Ranma gets confused. xD