CHAPTER TEN: EYES CLOSED

EIGHT YEARS AGO

Nabiki made a mistake.

Yes, she had been only twenty-one, but youthful naiveté could hardly justify an exoneration. She knew she owed Akane a confession and an explanation. She had never intended to keep her evolving relationship with Ranma from her sister or anyone else. In fact, Ranma made her proud, and she wanted people to see her handsome boyfriend by her side, the martial arts prodigy and bold, aspiring manga-ka who had swept her off her feet.

More than that, as a matter of principle, Nabiki actually never intentionally created or kept secrets, contrary to what she knew most people believed. She hated holding onto them. Too much effort and too much risk, usually for far too little gain. However, when a person had to live without having a voice, everything became a secret by default anyway. To survive, she had learned how to act as a proactive observer of circumstance, pragmatism dictating as always what she chose and when to share with others. She needed to find the right time and place to talk to her sister. Akane's first year in New York had proved more difficult than she, or even Nabiki, imagined it would be.

Throughout their childhood, fitting in had always been far easier for Akane than Nabiki. At Furinkan, Akane had always been the popular girl, naturally exceptional at disarming others and making friends. Everyone liked her. She lived on a pedestal, one which Nabiki too often wondered if her sister appreciated or if she even perceived at be all. All the girls wanted to be her, and all the boys wanted to be with her.

Tisch, however, was different. No pedestal waited for Akane Tendou there. Instead, everyone regarded the pretty, exotic Japanese upstart theatre major who showed up speaking English like a Brit with envy and suspicion. Unfortunately for Akane, she had never been the kind of person who could be at peace with solitude. She became absolutely miserable. About the only thing she seemed able to continue believing in was her potential as an actress.

Seizing that lifeline, Nabiki said and did everything she could could to reinforce Akane's belief in that potential. She saw and understood everything though. Her sister would need a lot more than just that one hope to prevail in her Existential crisis. Akane remained too fragile and vulnerable. Nabiki constantly worried that her sister could fold and quit at any time— or maybe worse.

She wanted to talk to Ranma, but could not bring herself to do so. On some level as a woman, the thought of her boyfriend worrying about his ex-fiancee rather unpleasant, even if there could no longer be any doubt about Ranma's feelings. For sure, he had his own way of making clear to Nabiki that she mattered to him. Enduring Kozue's interrogation and the ease with which the answers to her friend's questions rolled off his tongue. Showing up and wordlessly matching her pace when she went on morning runs. Nagging her to remember to eat and sleep as she juggled her classes, the job at Suntory Hall, and running to Setagaya and the Komei School as best she could manage. None of that, however, could assuage Nabiki's restless unease.

Maybe the real issue was that she simply had no idea how to put her feelings into words. After her mother died, no one had been around to listen, so she never gained much experience with these types of things. No one, of course, except Akane, too young back then and now obviously with no capacity to help her in her present situation either.

Thus, in the end, Nabiki simply kept her thoughts to herself. That was the only course of action that seemed to make sense at the time.

Something else bothered Nabiki. She could not name or understand it at first. Only when she asked Ranma to help her brush up on some old basics of self defense because of a recent string of assaults on co-Eds in the Ueno neighborhood did she finally realize what it was.

The way he instructed her had been the pivotal clue. She well knew that he had never once touched Akane, despite all of the younger Tendou's tireless, hollow protests about him being a pervert — not even when they sparred. For that matter, he never touched any of the other girls either who used to chase him back when they had all still been in the shit hole of her Nerima childhood.

With her, however, he was physical without hesitation. He taught her how to block by throwing actual punches, landing more than a few that left light bruises on her arms. He showed her how to break an assailant's hold by simulating actual choke holds. When she asked him to teach her how to land from a fall, he threw her onto the mat on her ass repeatedly.

Outwardly, she kept her best poker face in place, reciprocating the cool kaizen (3) of his bushido objectivity. There was no need for her to say anything. It would only break the spell.

Inside, however, the racing of her heart would thunder in her ears as the intoxicating thrill of his sweet cedar and pinewood scent washed over her. The fire of his touch would send shivers of exhilaration up her spine. Despite the one thing he had still not done for her in their time together, she knew exactly what he was trying to say: he respected her.

The realisation filled her with a resolve to finally take from him that which somehow, even after Suginami, they had still not allowed for themselves. She had been patient, agreeing in this matter to one of the few conservative aspects of traditional Japanese feminity that she had allowed herself as a woman. Still, by now, the issue was becoming more than a little ridiculous.

The opportunity arose one Friday evening. He had gotten them in after hours at one of the gyms where he taught classes. They were working on her falls again.

A sudden, naughty inspiration struck her as he took up the fabric of the front of her gi to throw her. Deviating from the routine they had discussed beforehand, she snatched up fistfuls of the lapels of his own gi, causing them both to fall instead. His eyes widened with obvious surprise, but he adapted and followed through exactly as she predicted he would. In the blink of an eye, he rolled over so that he would end up underneath rather than crush her with his own weight.

"Whaddaya do that for?!" he hissed with obvious irritation.

"You're a smart boy. What does it look like?" she replied huskily in his ear, insistently pressing her cheek firmly against his as she did.

"I…. "

"Touch me, Saotome."

"N-N-Nabiki…!"

"Touch. Me."

She snatched up his right hand in her left, pulled aside the lapel of her own top with her right, and placed his hand over the bare flesh of her breasts. Of course, he gasped when he saw the scar over the left side of her chest for the first time. It remained a clearly demarcated palm-sized, salmon-colored discoloration with a slightly roughened texture. In an absolute sense, it was not actually even that bad. She had long accepted that things could have ended up worse. Still, the scar was there, the one obvious imperfection that marred her body.

"I… I'm sorry," he choked out hoarsely as the blood drained from his face. Guilt. Shame. Both flashed in his eyes, which began to glisten in the dim light. He knew why this scar was there. "I didn't know…."

She did not blame him. Not anymore. Everything happening here and now had come to be because of that day. "Don't be sorry. I'm fine. Just give me now what I want. I know you want it too."

"N-Nabiki…!" he hissed with audible trepidation. The unmistakable rock hard member she felt pressed up against her inner thigh, however, gave him away. She let him know that she had an IUD.

"No more talking." In fact, she would murder him if he did not finish the job.

She thought she understood what she was asking for. She was wrong. This was something all together different from touching hands, having arms around one another, or even feeling his hand running up her leg.

She felt her nipples turn firm and hard at his touch. With surprising tenderness, he leaned forward and kissed the scar over her left breast. A wet warmth burst forth from within her, consuming her, leaving her feeling brilliantly aglow. The world exploded feverishly in a fiery blaze of heat and light.

Her hands were all over him too before she knew it, ripping away his top, greedily exploring the lines of his now bare chest, arms, and torso. He was so very solid and warm – more alive than she could have fathomed for any living being. He cupped her face between his hands, greedily crushed his lips against hers. She drank from the deliciously wet and spicy sweetness of his tongue.

What remained of her clothing became too hot and tight to bear. Furiously annoyed and impatient, she kicked off her pants and thrust her hips down onto him, commanding him to do his thing and be the man he had been born to be. She expected some discomfort as he entered, based on what she had heard and read over the years. Still, he was far bigger than she imagined he would be. Her hiss gave him pause.

She would have none of that shit. Her purpose remained clear and unwavering, On that dusty mat in an empty gym on a Friday night would be where Nabiki Tendou lost her virginity. The initial discomfort quickly gave way to sublime ecstasy. The very essence of her world tilted irrevocably on its axis now. Feverish want revealed itself for the indisputable need it actually was. Any remaining doubts vanished, leaving only an irrevocable, immutable living certainty as primordial and fundamental as water, heat, and light.

Certain words still had not yet passed between them. So many things remained to be said and shared. Yet, none of that actually mattered any more in the grand design laid out by Fate and Destiny. Finally, from the filth of human reality emerged the first tangible hint of the potential existence of Heaven and Paradise Nabiki had ever seen in her life.

In horror, she finally comprehended what really had been bothering her. She had fallen for him. Truly, incontrovertibly, and irrevocably so. She had no choice but to own that reality now. The malevolent ease with which these raw feelings had eluded her intellect and slipped past a lifetime's worth of pragmatic cynicism and outward stoicism — that which she had embraced so fervently in order to always remain in control, to never be hurt again — terrified her.

Free will finally revealed itself for the illusion that it had been an illusion all this time. She had no more say in this matter than she did about if she wanted her voice or even if her mother had lived or died. Heathen or whatever kind of independent free spirit she fancied herself, she was helplessly along for the ride now, her Destiny already swept up since even before Suginami in the inescapable tides of the sea of Fate. Even putting her head on Ranma's shoulder and letting him hold her for the first time that day had not been volitional. The only real choice she had ever had was if she would abide with her eyes closed or otherwise.

Ranma accompanied her back to Ueno after. She arrived home just past half eleven. She was tired and sore, but still intoxicated with the warmth of his presence and the fresh memory of what they had just shared.

In a supreme act of willpower, she put on a masterful outward show of coy magnanimity to send him back home. He still lived with his parents. Maybe his father's opinion did not matter, but Nabiki told him that he should be considerate of his Mom. Auntie Nodoka would wonder where her son was, worry even if she never admitted aloud doing so. She might outwardly fawn over how manly her son had become, but that would just be a show. All good mothers worried about their kids, no matter how old they were or what their station in life was. Besides, tomorrow would still be there just like the day after and then every day after that.

"I can't let you tire of me too quickly," she teased.

In truth, however, Nabiki needed to be alone. She had business to resolve. Sublime joy unlike any other she had ever experienced, yet inherently shadowed with fearful guilt and shame, consumed her. How could that which felt so very, very right feel so terribly wrong at the same time?

How?!

Regardless, restrained discretion would no longer work. That old premonition of impending consequentiality that had quietly nagged at her since she and Ranma had first shared KFC and beers now became a nauseating bullhorn, impossible to ignore. She found herself taunted by the rapid approach of some eerie precipice of Fate. Somehow, time was running out.

She wanted to cry and scream.

She needed to find a way to breathe.

She had to talk to her sister.

Sors immanis et inanis.

(I'm not gonna hurt ya. I promise.)

Vanu salus, semper dissolubilis.

(Can we give ourselves a chance?)

Dammit dammit dammit!

# # # # #

"Oneechan," Akane answered.

Nabiki had been unable to sleep. It was just past four in the afternoon New York time. That meant just past six in the morning Tokyo time.

"I was actually going to call you," Akane continued before Nabiki could get a word in. "I… I've started having this recurring dream. I think I should talk to you about it."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yes. Since they told me I won the lead for that play."

The other week, Akane had auditioned for the part of Anna in a new play called "Only For As Long As Life Intoxicates" (1). It was a modern retelling of Tolstoy's Anna Karenina. Nabiki wished that her sister could have auditioned for a comedy instead, but Akane pushed back. Only dramas and tragedies positioned theater students to be taken seriously, and Akane wanted to be taken seriously.

The casting decisions had been announced a few days ago. The director thought Akane had talent. He also noted the exotic factor that he thought Akane could bring with her accented English and mysterious looks.

"I hope he really does appreciate your talents and is not just trying to get into your pants," Nabiki snapped tersely. She could not help herself. She enjoyed a good play or movie as much as anyone, but just like the appeal of kyabakura girls (1), this sort of stuff about the business had always bothered her.

"You don't think I deserve the role?"

"Of course I do."

The other thing everyone at Tisch hated Akane for were her exceptional marks in all of her classes. Akane deserved to be recognized for her merits as a person, not as a woman. Nabiki told her so.

"You are good at what you do, but I'm your sister, and men are men. Mom made me promise to look after you. It's my job to be cynical. I just want you to receive your due share of earned respect."

"T-thank you, Oneechan. For always believing in me." Akane's voice had grown thick with emotion. "For what it's worth, I do think this director is an honest artist. You're right though. New York is full of perverts, more than there ever were around Nerima."

"Try not to hit anyone there," Nabiki admonished. "I know you're a martial artist and all, but you know what they say about Americans with their guns and lawyers."

"Would you defend me?"

"If you can wait a few years, sure."

"Family rate?"

"For you, pro bono."

The sisters shared a laugh before Akane remembered herself. "Thank you, Oneechan. I needed that."

"What's the dream you wanted to tell me about?"

Each time, it began with Akane waking to find herself riding a train full of cold, faceless strangers. Intuitively, Akane knows the train is going somewhere she wants to be, but then the train makes an unscheduled stop and is pulled out of service. One by one, the strangers stand and move silently like wraiths as they make their way toward the exits. Akane cannot help herself; something deep within compels her to join them.

As she steps off the train, however, there is no platform waiting for her. Instead, she finds herself standing alone on a very dark night on the rooftop of some skyscraper, presumably in New York. The air around her would be cool and breezy. The wind, filled with the fresh scent of something she somehow remembered being called petrichor, would beckon her toward the parapet. On the streets far below, she could see countless cars and people milling around in cold apathetic ignorance.

"I start hearing questions in my head. I think I understand what Anna must have been thinking in her final scene on her platform. She's looking down studying train tracks while I'm standing at the top of the world. Yet, it's still all so lonely, disappointing and… pointless. I go over to the edge and sit with my feet dangling over. I study it all for the longest time, trying my best to find meaning, but I… I can't."

Akane was studying to be a method actor. She had probably gone too far with whatever she had done to prepare for her audition. Of all things, she had to go and try out for the part of the greatest fucking Tolstoyan female Nihilist too. Given the angst of Akane's current Existential crisis and her inherent volatility, she would be easily prone to going too far. Ever since they were kids, Akane always went too far.

Mom asked me to look after you….

Dammit!

Nabiki's heart sank heavily in her chest as she accepted the lost cause that her original objective for this conversation had long ago become. At some point, her body had turned cold and numb. She was scared. She could feel something of her sister quickly slipping away in darkness. She could not lose Akane. Other than earning Mom's eternal disappointment, Nabiki would not know what to do with herself if that happened. She knew what she had to ask Akane — what Mom would expect her to ask.

"Are you Anna?"

Anna, who had nothing of her own within herself.

Anna who had been able to live for only as long as life intoxicated with the prospect of one day achieving a fatal definition of happiness and fulfillment defined entirely by external illusions.

Anna who so desperately wanted the approval of her family and society.

Anna who had drowned in the anguish of her unconditional, unrequited love.

"Do you remember that time I found Mom's old notebook of favorite recipes? (3)" Akane asked.

Years ago, while doing some Spring cleaning, Akane stumbled on Mom's old handwritten collection of favorite recipes, filling her with dangerous inspiration. When Kasumi fell ill the next day with a cold, Akane seized the opportunity to take over the kitchen. That same day, Auntie Nodoka, still not knowing about the Jusenkyo curses, dropped in for an unannounced visit and ignorantly volunteered to assist Akane with working through Mom's notes. Ranma, stupidly noble to a fault as usual, tried to stop Akane and save them all by trying to hijack her attempts in the kitchen. In the end, dinner had been lost, the kitchen pointlessly had to be rebuilt for far too much, and the only damned thing Akane learned had been how to boil water for instant noodles.

"I'm nowhere near as bright as you, Oneechan, but I'm finally starting to see things clearly now too from this side of the world. My whole life is really just like that mess with Mom's recipe book. I'm a shitty sister and daughter. I was a terrible fiance to someone who I realize now I think I might even have actually loved. As Shakespeare might say, a lot of sound and fury that ends up signifying little more than boiled water for instant noodles."

Akane.

Her little sister Akane.

If she wanted to be a Nihilist, she should at least have had the good sense to be a Nietzschean rather than a fucking Tolstoyan weakling. Everyone eventually died, but Tolstoyans did so because they discovered they had to live; Nietzscheans at least died as a consequence of having lived. She should have the guts to take the fucking world into her own hands and shape something out of it. To be an Existentialist instead of folding from the trauma of merely discovering that the world obviously begins from nothing. Nabiki had always hated Tolstoy.

"Let's just come out with it, Oneechan. What happens every time I try doing something in the kitchen sums up our whole family life. It's been messed up even before we lost Mom. You were always her favorite, and Dad had his reasons for liking Kasumi most. I don't blame either of you for that. It's just that Irish twins are never planned. Everything would've been so much better for everyone if I'd never been born. Plain and simple."

"You're on fucking crack, Akane!" Nabiki could not believe her ears.

"No, I'm not! It's all true, Oneechan!

"Mom's love for you was every damn bit as much for me and Kasumi — maybe even more! She always thought of you, worried about you more than anyone! You were the only one she wanted anyone to look after. Dad may be an ass with a fucked up antiquated worldview entirely detached from modern reality, but he did make you his Heir to the School!"

Akane gave her sister a loud, humorless bark of laughter. "Come on, Oneechan! Dad made me his Heir only because no one else wanted to be. Kasumi couldn't be bothered to get her hands dirty like that. You and Dad never saw eye to eye on anything, and you were far too smart and preoccupied with other things. That left only me. I decided I wanted it because that was how I thought I could get him to finally see and approve of me. That obviously didn't work out the way I thought it might."

"You're being an idiot, Akane! You yourself always used to talk about how being a martial artist is a set of principles unto itself. You can't do it for any reason other than because you want to be a martial artist. That and you were always the one everyone noticed — not me!"

Nabiki could barely see anymore. Everything had become so dark and blurry. She realized that she was crying now too. She knew the hour at which they were now at in this game. Regardless of whether her hand was good or not, she would have to go for broke. She really was out of time.

"This is exactly what I mean, Oneechan," Akane choked out between her own sobs. "Look at us now. It's all like that time you lost your voice and all those people were so mean to you all over again. Then and now, all I can do is watch you cry and suffer. Aside from Mom, you're the one I love most. More even than I ever did Ranma."

Nabiki blanched as she felt her heart cracked under its own weight. Still, she had a job to do. She fought desperately to pull herself together with every fiber of her being. Losing her voice had scarred her forever, but no matter what may have passed between her and Akane in all their years together, Nabiki knew she would die if she lost her sister, her Irish twin.

"I love you too, Akane. But that's exactly my point too. You're alI that I have left of Mom. That's why I'm going to ask you now for an honest answer that you can swear by on both her grave and your honor as the Heir of the Tendou School. Are you thinking about hurting yourself?"

"I…. I — "

"Are you a martial artist, or have you really just settled for being another small, inconsequential Anna?"

"You're so cruel when you say it like that, Oneechan!"

"I'm sorry, but I can't afford to give a damn how it sounds to you right now. I swear that if you fucking so much as harm a hair on yourself, I will come after you in Hell and quadruple whatever Mom does to you. Now answer me! Is Akane Tendou truly a martial artist, or have you become just another fucking Anna?"

"Oneechan, please — !"

"Dammit! On Mom's grave, answer me!"

An eerie silence settled between the two sisters. Nabiki began to worry that Akane would hang up, but then came Akane's answer. It shook Nabiki to her core.

"Maybe my Honor is the only thing holding me together right now. I promise you and Mom though, it'll hold. For you, I'll keep my word."

# # # # #

CHAPTER NOTES:

"Kaizen" is a Japanese operative philosophy generally translating as "change for the better" or "continuous improvement." Colloquially, the term was first popularized by a groundbreaking 1986 book on business competitiveness by the famous Japanese organizational theorist Masaki Imai. In practice, "kaizen" is widely applied in Japan not just in business, but many other contexts including medicine, psychotherapy, life coaching, government, manufacturing, and banking. Reference to OVA Episode #3, "Akane versus Ranma: I Will Be The One To Inherit Mom's Recipes!".