CHAPTER ELEVEN: IRISES
"Don't go…!"
Nabiki barely recognized the voice that said those words — especially since it was her own. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that she would ever be in her current position. Things were not supposed to work this way. Other people were supposed to be calling after her. Yet, here she was standing before Ranma telling him those words.
They had gotten into a fight, probably their worst ever. In the weeks and months after her Tolstoyan confrontation with Akane, Nabiki had been at a loss for what to do. The weight of her own conscience and her sister's admissions to depression and suicidal ideation haunted her. No matter what Ranma meant to her, she could not tell him, much less anyone else, about Akane. She had neither the right nor the standing to do so.
She also did not want him to know how crazy and messed up she was either. Even now, she still had not been able to trust herself to fully reveal the raw extent of her rage and fury. He definitely knew by now of her misanthropic disdain for people who had things, but he still had not yet realized how far and deep the wounds at root of these feelings cut. Sure she sounded Nietzschean, but so what. Nietzsche had the right general idea about how to make the world a better place, but he was the crazy one, not her. Of all people, she still worried about whether or not Ranma would one day think she was crazy — which she was not.
Ya ain't nice — but ya ain't crazy….
She. Was. Not. Crazy.
At the same time, she remained too weak to give him up.
With only bad options to choose from, Nabiki succumbed to behaving in the only way she could think of to preserve her crumbling sanity and protect her sister. Desperately, she maneuvered for breathing room with subtle excuses and hollow justifications for boundaries between Ranma and herself. Gradually fewer text messages and even fewer phone calls. Dinner at her place at least once a month — but never more than twice. A quick fuck here and there to satisfy their mutual needs. All in all, just enough to keep the lid on Pandora's box.
Still, a smoldering wedge of cool, unspoken distance inevitably grew between them. However, she had not been lying about the busy shit show that her life really had devolved into after that night in the gym. Between secretly talking to Akane every night, her own studies, the weekend job at Suntory Hall, running as often as she could to the Komei School, and keeping up with the wealth distribution projects that she needed to sustain her agendas, Nabiki had to throw everything she had onto the field to keep her head above water. She was now in the middle of her year-end finals.
Despite the crazy multivariable calculus of her life, Nabiki managed to become first in her class and by a very healthy margin. Internship offers for the following year had been coming in like water. The jealous eyes she could feel on her in the law school's halls thrilled her to no end.
She would crush her finals at all cost to maintain this status quo. She was so close now. The last one would be tomorrow morning. The girl who had once lost her voice, been laughed at and forsaken by everyone for being so weak and helpless, was finally having the chance she deserved to rewrite things as they should be. She had worked too hard, been through too much, for it to be any other way.
Something had to give. The world remained too full of people eager to see you fall so that they could take your place. All of those fucking uncaring "have-alls" again. The more she achieved and earned for herself, the more vigilant she would have to be. She could take no chances. Every idle moment and every inefficiency she could eliminate in her day mattered. She could only dream of how much more she could achieve if only she did not need to eat or sleep. Biology was just fucking annoying at times.
Somehow, she even convinced herself that Ranma did not mind. Maybe, he even understood and accepted what she could not tell him. His own schedule nowadays had become quite busy too.
In the months after they had got together, he began taking short-term contract jobs doing small adds and other odd things whenever he was not teaching at a gym or working at some coffee shop (she had made him immediately quit the one in Suginami as a condition of their budding relationship). He also began experimenting with a number of surprisingly compelling storylines for his manga projects.
A high school student who discovers the very book of death and wields it in a conceited delusion of himself as a god-like vigilant to remake the world according to his own moral vision.
A 500 year-old man cursed with immortality after eating the flesh of a mermaid and whose only desire now is to regain his mortality.
An infamous master assassin and swordsman who fought for the Ishin Shishi during the Bakumatsu now dedicating his life to atoning for the lives he took and whose greatest desire now is a peaceful life of banality.
Ranma really had an eye for things and a knack for putting stories together, probably better than even her own. When he decided to enroll in animation and illustration classes at Asagaya, she enthusiastically supported his choice — provided of course that he had nothing to do with that Miyuki bimbo who had tried to kill her. He took also took on an increasing number of free-lance projects on the side for experience and exposure. He was continuing to teach martial arts part-time several evenings each week.
Setagaya also was considerably farther from Ueno than Meguro and Komaba. Occasionally, they met up when she finished her afternoons at the Komei School, but they both understood that Nabiki should not come around the Saotome home. The discovery of their relationship would likely inspire the parents to do something stupid like revive the Tendou-Saotome agreement. Nabiki also knew that their parents getting wind of them would inevitably translate into her younger sister finding out too. Both Akane and she just had far too much to each deal with for that.
As a result, nearly three weeks had gone by since she and Ranma had last seen one another. He called that morning asking if he could come by in the afternoon. Today was Sunday. He wanted to run an idea for one of his projects by her, something he was considering as an entry for the annual Asagaya contest.
A short break would probably be good for her. Besides, she missed him too. She inserted a nice half hour slot for him in her scheduler. It was far more than anything she had granted herself in nearly the last two months.
When Ranma came, he showed her a draft for a story about a down-on-his-luck ronin about their age named Yusaku. Yusaku is a sincere and well-meaning person, but hopelessly unlucky in everything he tries. He falls in love with a young and beautiful woman named Kyoko, recently widowed and with a fiery temper and strong, opinionated views.
Kyoko is still grieving the sudden, unexpected loss of her husband. To give her a sense of purpose and help her back onto her feet, her well-meaning father-in-law conscripts her to manage one of his rental properties in the fictional Tokyo neighborhood of Tokeizaka. Kyoko and Yusaku meet at the boarding house she takes over. She comes to eventually like the guy too, but she feels guilty about falling in love a second time.
Between the guy's "have-not" haplessness and the girl's brooding inner struggles between fidelity to her dead first-love, her desire to live, and the dictates of society, the characters resonated with Nabiki. She actually loved the idea. The setup had incredible plot and character development potential.
However, she demurred on admitting this to Ranma. Doing the characters justice would be extremely challenging. As full and remarkable as his life had been to date, she doubted he possessed the depth and breadth of experiences to execute this story in a compelling and believable manner. If this were what he entered in the Asagaya contest, he would likely fall flat on his face out the gate. The opportunity would be wasted. His talents would be wholly unappreciated.
Of course, she was sorry to sound harsh, but not really. Better to hear it now from her than one of his instructors or even the actual contest judges. No one else would look out for his interest as she did. Just as Sherwood Anderson told Faulkner to write stories about what he knew, she now told Ranma the same.
Ranma, however, did not seem discouraged at all by her brutal honesty. In fact, he seemed to want all the more to pursue the project because of her pessimism. His reaction pissed her off. How annoyingly typical off him. Honestly! Everything would be so much better if people could just give in to reality and stop fighting against their own obvious self interests.
"You think my opinion is funny," she confronted him testily. "The ronin part I'll give you, but exactly what basis of inspiration do you think you have for the widow?"
"I ain't lackin' for inspiration," he replied. The defiance in his tone as he smugly stuck his face up in Nabiki's and bore his eyes into her grated on her nerves. She became even angrier as his meaning sunk in.
"Really," she snarled dangerously. "Some free advice for you. I'm all for whatever it takes to win as much as you are. You might want to rethink though the idea of trying to create a parody of your girlfriend's cross temperament to do so."
"It ain't no parody, and I ain't makin' fun o' ya. Nabiki, I — "
"I'm not your fucking widow!" she roared.
Deliberately, she knocked against his shoulder with her own as she leaned forward and stood. For good measure, she made sure he saw her studying her watch, and turned her back to him to leave no doubt of her displeasure. At this point, she could care less. She had already wasted enough time with him on this fucking dead end of a conversation.
"Nabiki, seriously, can we talk — ?"
"I've got to head back and get more studying in. I have an exam in the morning."
That was when he said it. In her angry, sleep-deprived state, Nabiki wondered if she had heard him correctly. She had to ask him to repeat himself.
"This ain't workin'. Who is he?"
"What…?!" The audacity of his accusation caught her completely off guard.
"Who. Is. He."
"What the fuck are you saying?!"
"I ain't as dumb as ya seem ta think. Maybe this whole thing about the widow 'n ronin is just proxy shit, but ya really are about as present as a widow. We see each other maybe once or twice a month. When we do, yer always angry and in a hurry. Other than that, I could easily get more emotion out of a stone wall than you."
"That's not true. I told you that things have just been busy for me lately. I count on you to understand."
"Bullshit. I've seen ya busy 'fore. This is somethin' else. Ya got somethin' eatin' away at ya, somethin' ya don't wanna tell me. Ya changed."
"I haven't. I've just worked too hard to lose everything that I have now."
She was so close. In a week, classes would adjourn for Spring recess, and she could breathe a little again — maybe.
"Fuck, Nabiki! On yer mother's grave, ya promised me over chicken that night in Komaba that ya ain't ever actually been dishonest with me. I know ya ain't always told me everythin' ya know, but since we started bein' together, I realized what ya said's true. Ya ain't ever lied ta me before. Not like the way ya just straight up did ta my face just now."
"Ranma — "
"I… I can deal with us not workin', but I can't deal with lies. So, I'm gonna ask ya again. Who is he?"
"You're being an ass!" she replied hotly. She was already dying inside as it was and now this…?! He was the only person she had ever dared to let in after her Mom died, and he wanted to talk to her like this…?! And in the middle of her finals too?! How … how dare he!
"Is he someone in yer class or that concert hall yer workin' at?"
"Ranma! There's —
"WHO IS HE?!"
"FUCK YOU! FOR EVEN THINKING I'M THAT KIND OF GIRL! THERE'S NO ONE ELSE! I FUCKING GAVE MY VIRGINITY TO YOU!"
Fuck him! Fuck him! Fuck him!
The wraith-like shadows from her nightmares swarmed her again now. Countless numbers of them assembled in that ever-shrinking circle around her. All the fucking assholes of the world she had ever known, the ones who had turned on her when she lost her voice.
Looking down on her.
Pitying her.
Laughing at her.
Thinking she was crazy.
Now, they were here staring at her — naked and empty-handed under that large, ominous blood-red moon. They thought they had won, having found the right Trojan horse to slip past her defenses, convincing her that there could really be another person aside from Akane and her Mom who could understand or care about her and her happiness.
Sors immanis et inanis….
Velut luna
Statu variabilis
Semper crescis
Aut decescis….
Mom…!
Nabiki could see everything so clearly now. In the end, he was just like every other asshole in the world, wanting to see her stumble and fail. She would not go down without a fight. Nabiki would tear into him with everything she had.
Her exams.
Remaining strong enough to hold on to her sanity at the razor's edge of madness.
Saving Akane. Enduring the numb horror of night after night of calls listening to her sister's twisted fears and doubts about her self. Pushing her sister to keep up with therapy sessions which, at least on the surface, seemed to not really be leading anywhere. How even the time Nabiki had spent in New York during the last term recess seemed to have achieved little more other than confirming her fears for her sister's mental and emotional well-being.
Fuck him for making such a complete and utter fool out of Nabiki Tendou — weak, blinded, ambushed and betrayed by the feelings she had been tricked into having. He had hurt her. She would make him pay.
"You are the liar! You told me you wanted me to be happy, all that shit you said about having that be the story on my face! If you really meant that, you would gladly give me the time and space I need to just get my shit done and make things right without doubting me! You're just like every other fucker in the world, just wanting a front row seat to the vanity show where stupid, weak, and helpless Nabiki Tendou loses everything!"
Vana salus, semper dissolubilis….
Dimly, her mind registered that he looked a little white in the face, as if stricken by a ghost. Good! No one could fool her — hurt her like this — and get away with it. Not any of those twat-minded little snot fuckers in her law class now, or the even sorrier ones in her junior high class, her fucking worthless shit of a fossil a father or even her dim-witted older sister. Not even Ranma Saotome.
She had a name and a voice, indomitable in its fearsome roar, cutting unapologetically in the darkness, proclaiming the birthright of destined exceptionalism everyone and everything had been trying to deny her her whole life. Fuck who ever dared to compete with Nabiki Tendou, had to audacity to think they could take her and her causes down. She would have her revenge on the whole world, always with the final laugh in the end, destined to win and prevail in her way.
Fuck — she was out of control again, too hot and rabid all over to stop from crashing once more through the breaking point of her own dam. The heated red of hate and blood threatened to drown out her vision. The bizarre, infernal incantation of Hell's angels echoed yet again in the darkness descending upon her mind.
"Nabiki…!"
Oh shit.
Ranma was still there. He had truly broken past her defenses, the Trojan horse who had seen and heard everything. All of her naked secrets had been laid bare in the garish, Goddamned light of day.
Sors immanis et inanis,
Rota tu volubilis, status malus
Vana salus,
Semper dissolubilis
Obumbrata et velata,
Michi quoque niteris…!
She needed him to leave, not to see her like this.
However, before she could form the words, she felt the hot pinprick touch of two fingers jab against the side of her neck. Immediately after, a curtain of hushed, overwhelming darkness began to descend all around her. She tried to fight back with all her will, but her efforts were futile, pointless.
A sleep pressure point, she realized, but she was already too late. How dare he…!
FUCK!
# # # # #
"Hey, Heathen! Wake up. It's already almost noon!"
FUCK!
Nabiki bolted upright in a panic, registering in horror that she was still in bed and in pajamas. Her exam had been scheduled to start at half ten. She could not decide between screaming and crying. She would lose everything, probably already had. Her skin started to burn at the prospect of her humiliation. Everyone would be laughing about Nabiki Tendou's fall from first to last because of how weak and stupid she had been to oversleep.
In fact, the vanity show had already started. Kozue stood idly in the doorway giggling to herself, watching as Nabiki frantically tried to shed her pajamas while simultaneously throwing the bits and pieces of her laptop into her satchel and struggling to pull some day clothes out of her wardrobe.
"Shut up and help me, or get out of here!" she screamed at her roommate. "Fucking exam started over an hour ago!"
"Relax!" Kozue replied, laughing harder now as she invited herself to saunter over and sit in Nabiki's desk chair. "Everything's already been taken cared of for you."
"W-what…?"
Kozue could no longer manage words through her laughter. She pointed past Nabiki back at the nightstand. By the reading lamp sat a vase of purple irises and a note in a sealed envelope. Nabiki's name could clearly be seen scrawled out in Ranma's characteristic chicken scratch writing.
"Oh fuck…." Nabiki muttered to herself as memories of their argument the day before crashed down on her.
I won't be your fucking widow!
You ain't ever lied to me before. Who is he…?
All of the secrets too that she had spilled in her word salad of rage. Her exams. The fight to hold on to her sanity at the razor's edge of madness. Saving Akane. Losing her voice. The hateful memories of everyone's pity and laughter. Fucking Trojan horse who had slipped in to laugh at her too, break her heart from the inside out, knocked her out with the shiatsu shit when she had become too annoying for him. Oh she was so not done with him…. Ranma Saotome was a fucking walking dead man!
"That… that asshole!"
"Really? You mean the one that brought you home last night and called over his doctor friend to check you out and write up that medical excuse for your exams."
"W-what…?!"
Shit. Tofu, the family physician, would be the only doctor Ranma could have called under the circumstances. Even if Ranma said nothing, Tofu would put the pieces together. If Kasumi found out, then so would Akane, but then he had come as a physician. Hopefully the law and the ethics of his profession would really keep him quiet.
Another horrifying thought occurred to Nabiki as she looked down at her half-naked body now. The scar over her left breast started to burn against the cup of her bra as she felt herself turn beet red with livid mortification. She had to know though. Even if he had seen it all before, she had to know. She would definitely murder Ranma if it were true.
"Kozue. Who changed me last night?"
"Oh. That."
"That…?!"
After a moment, Kozue's poker face dissolved again into another round of laughter at her friend's expense. "Kiki, my dear, dear Heathen, I thought you'd know better! Your 'asshole' was a complete gentleman — unlike me. You really do have a nice body, you know. Care to model again for me some time?"
"Kozue… I…." Something else struck Nabiki, something else she had to know. She fought hard to steady her voice and get the words out, but could not despite herself.
"Right," Kozue drawled, picking up on Nabiki's thoughts. "Don't worry about what I might or might not know. Like I said, your 'asshole' really is a gentleman. I love you dearly, but your little lovers' quarrel is your business and no one else's."
"I… Thank you."
"You're welcome. I'll leave you to read your little love letter and smell your flowers. It's just too bad he's an only child. He's got such a nice body too. I should probably also ask him to model for me — "
"KOZUE!"
"Fine fine! Geez, Kiki, you used to have such a great sense of humor. Ja ne!"
# # # # #
I think the truth is that ya like sunny side up eggs too when no one else is lookin'. Just like fried chicken….
Nabiki sighed as she studied the woman staring up at her from the puddle of rainwater at her feet. She had donned the dress that Kozue had gifted her for modeling her smirk. The two-part fit-and-flare midi with the black, long-sleeved turtleneck top and the turquoise floral print A-line silk skirt with white, pink, and violet orchids. That dress remained the finest one that Nabiki owned. She still had the shawl too, its brilliant, bold, flaming strokes of crimson, royal blue, yellow, and orange splashed across the silk gleaming tastefully in the early March afternoon sun. Her face, with its soft, flawless complexion and brushed up with the lightest hint of makeup, possessed the sublime serenity of a porcelain doll.
Nabiki had to concede that this woman was beautiful. Someone she did not know or understand. An impeccable illusion. Just another lie. However, if today would be the last time she would see Ranma, she did not want his final memory of her to be that of a monster or lunatic.
Today was Sunday again.
The rest of the previous week had gone by in a blur. She was finished with her exams now, including the one from Monday that she had to make up. She probably did even better on that one because of the extra time she gained by being able to take it as a makeup. Objectively, however, none of her exams had been as hard as she had anticipated, which was fortunate since concentrating on studying had been very difficult after her fight with Ranma. In the end, her class standing had never really been in danger.
Aside from Ranma and her exams, the only other thing Nabiki remembered was continuing to pick up Akane's calls and listening night after night. Each time, Nabiki did her best to keep a stiff upper lip and remain the resolute pillar of confident assurance her sister so desperately needed. Of course, the whole thing was a lie, but it was also all that Nabiki could give her sister.
The heat of her rage had cooled, replaced by anxious, agitated longing, regret, and even fear. She had been wrong. He was no Trojan horse. She missed him. She had to talk to him. She did not like the way he had touched her and knocked her out, but she also could not deny that things really had become quite dangerous and untenable for her at the end. She had not felt anywhere near this stupid or vulnerable since her mother died.
The words from the chicken scratch note that had accompanied the irises kept echoing in her head. Without them, she doubted she would have had the courage to come back here today. Here to Setagaya and the small park near the Komei School where she had first asked him to really show her his Art.
I'm not laughing at you, and I don't look down on you.
I don't want to fight. I'm sorry for what I said. I shouldn't have gotten in your way. Good luck with your exams. If you want to talk after, I'm here.
— Ranma
Really, though, what a fucking circus. Blinded by fear and anger, Nabiki really had overlooked the most important thing said between them that day, probably the only thing that actually mattered.
This ain't workin'.
She had made too many assumptions, abandoned him to fill in the voided shadows of her secrets with his own imagination. Honestly, she too probably would have grown suspicious and imagined the worse if she were in his position.
Regardless, her shit was out in the open between them now. She could not remember exactly what and how much she had spewed in her word salad. As someone with a photographic memory, she found that fact extremely disconcerting. She knew though that she had said at least something about everything, cryptic as some things may have been.
Yet, despite how dirty and messed up she knew she was and even though she remained bothered by how he had touched her, she hoped he could still find it in himself to like her. Returning to that old abyss of loneliness before that first day in Suginami or even Christmas Eve when he had carried her home, shared fried chicken and canned beers with her, really talked with her for the first time…. The thought made her sick to her stomach. Even her life before that day so many years ago now when Ranma-chan had first shown up with her panda-ized father at the Tendou's front door was not a time or place of which she could conceive of ever returning. Beyond want or need, bits and pieces of his essence had become a part of her.
Most likely, however, he just thought her crazy now. Thinking back on their current fight, even she had started to wonder if maybe she really was. Regardless of what she might want or planned to tell him today, maybe the right thing to do really would be to —
"Yo, Nabiki."
She gasped, startled as Ranma landed from his leap. As he did so, the serene illusion of her reflection dissolved between them. Fortunately, the water he had splashed with his impact was not enough to trigger the curse. As he rose with his usual grace to his full height before her, she caught the surprise in his eyes as he looked her over from head to toe. In amusement, Nabiki felt a small smile forming on her lips, but then she remembered herself and hurriedly schooled her features back into solemn neutrality.
"Ranma, I…. I'm sorry for the way I behaved. I'm… I know that I'm messed up, and I hear you. There's no one else. On Taniguchi honor and my mother's grave, I swear it."
"T-Taniguchi…? Nabiki — !"
"I'll tell you everything. I promise. But before we talk about anything else, I need you to swear on your honor that you'll never touch me like that again."
To leave no doubt of her meaning, she raised her hand to the spot where he had touched her. She herself winced as she saw the unspoken guilt and shame flash across his suddenly ashen face. Yes, she expected that. All the same, she felt relieved that she could. For now, she had from him what she needed to continue. He could never really be a Trojan horse.
"I just… I can't have my voice taken away from me like that. Never again."
# # # # #