Ranma bit her bottom lip in frustration as she spied on Ryoga and Akane conversing—one shyly, the other sweetly—in the main room of the Tendo house. What was Akane still doing at home? The entire family was supposed to be out for the day, all on their own business. That was why Ranma had told Ryoga to meet her then. She also wondered, bitterly, why it was that Akane was always so much sweeter to Ryoga than she was to Ranma. She nearly barged in on their sickly saccharine chat as she was, but then paused to collect herself. She darted off to the dojo on the grounds nearby to fetch the kettle of piping hot water she'd stashed in there earlier. Though she knew that Akane would barely register Ranma being in her girl form at this point were she to insert herself between the chatters, she felt more comfortable in approaching Ryoga as a man just then, given the last month's events.

Rising with his black hair soaking wet, Ranma took a breath to puff out his chest and stroll confidently back to the house. He waltzed through the room without acknowledging either conversationalist with anything more than a dismissive wave. All that mattered to him was ensuring that he was acknowledged, and Ryoga's serious eyes obediently followed him out of the room in what Akane could assume was the manner of one rival sizing up another before a confrontation. That done, Ranma made his way upstairs to sit in Akane's room and wait while the two downstairs ate up what alone time Ranma had with their blabbering.

Ranma distracted himself with a visual tour of the familiar bedroom. He hoped that Ryoga had simply caught Akane as she'd been preparing to leave and that she'd go right after talking with him; but, in the event Ranma heard her coming up the stairs, he could always make his exit through the window in his usual style. The room was neater and cuter than its occupant generally displayed herself, which reminded Ranma that his fiancée might have hidden depths behind her brutish exterior. It was clear that Ryoga didn't get any of what Ranma got from her. Ryoga only got the cute side of Akane, the side that had haunted Ranma and led to his starting this whole business with Ryoga.

Ranma's eyes stopped on the one thing out of place in Akane's bedroom: a single drawer which was thrown open in contrast to its neatly closed neighbours. Without thinking, Ranma stood and walked over to close the drawer for the sake of symmetry, but nearly tripped when he felt something caught on his foot. Looking down, he saw a light blue and lacy pair of panties over his foot, then made the connection: the open drawer, which he confirmed was empty with a crane of his neck, had held Akane's underwear prior to having been looted, and Ranma knew exactly by whom. Apparently, the old creep Happosai had dropped a pair of his ill-gotten spoils in his haste, which Ranma now removed from his foot with a delicate grip.

He only held the garment in his hand for a split second before tossing it into the waiting drawer and sending it home, but the moment seemed to freeze in a way that thrilled Ranma. All at once he felt gross and thankful for feeling gross. The underwear in his fingers brought to his mind an image of the girl downstairs wearing only it and nothing else, and Ranma was inwardly elated to hear and feel his thumping heart and rushing blood. So, he wasn't a lost cause after all. Still, as he sat back down on the bed, he couldn't help thinking about the past month and all it had done to him. All she had done.

Sharing a bedroom with your dad when you were a 16-year-old boy constantly surrounded by girls was a special kind of hell. Four weeks ago, Ranma had awoken from a particularly bothersome dream and impulsively ventured out into the cool night air to fetch a bucket of water from the nearby pond before heading to the dojo. He'd quietly boiled a kettle of water beforehand and swung the kettle from one hand and the bucket from the other as he made his way to the empty building. Once he was inside, he turned the bucket over onto his head and shook the excess wetness from her red hair.

While she still felt warm inside, being a girl sufficiently distracted Ranma from the troubles of her male mind. This was simply because she wasn't yet accustomed to recognizing in her new form that which she'd been feeling in the other. While still present, she felt like the heat of it was turned down. At the very least, her boxer shorts no longer felt so restrictive. All that was left to do was get dressed and run through her kata as many times as it took until she tired herself out enough to go back to sleep. She reached for the clothes she'd brought along slung over her shoulders when she heard a tapping on the hardwood floor behind her.

It was the tapping of tiny hooves, she found, as she watched a little black piglet make its way dazedly into the wide training area. She was surprised it hadn't gotten itself lost, even given how close the dojo was to the Tendo house. This was because she recognized the black and yellow kerchief around the thing's neck, which told her exactly who the pig really was. Ryoga, in his cursed form as Akane's pet pig P-Chan, didn't even seem to notice Ranma as he flopped down on the cool floor and lay there panting as if he had a fever.

"Whoa, Ryoga, you alright?" asked Ranma, taking up the kettle. Without warning, she dribbled a bit of the hot water she'd been saving for after her workout onto the pig's tiny body. An instant later, Ryoga Hibiki was lying in the pig's place, looking hopelessly confused.

"Ranma? What are you doing out here so late?"

"I could ask you the same thing, pig-boy," Ranma shot back. "You just got in the way of my training. You sick or something?"

Ryoga went very red. "Sick? O-oh, no, nothing like that," he rambled bashfully into the hardwood. "It's just that, well...Akane, she..."

Ryoga didn't have to finish his sentence for Ranma to connect the dots. He'd learned firsthand that Akane was a clingy sleeper, and P-Chan would often be cuddled half to death in the bed he shared with her. Ranma would almost feel bad for poor Ryoga. Almost, but she couldn't quite do it.

"Well, maybe if you weren't such a pervert, sleeping in her bed all the time," Ranma scoffed, crossing her arms and turning her nose up at the pathetic man before her.

"It's not like that!" countered Ryoga, reddening some more as he stood to loom over Ranma. "You wouldn't understand." He turned his face away as if in shame. "You get to stay a human when you transform. For the rest of us, it's like—" he paused and Ranma watched his brain struggling behind his dark eyes, then he continued, "A-anyway, it's not as if I know where I'm going to end up whenever I get rained on, you know."

What Ryoga had failed to explain to Ranma was that a human brain couldn't fit inside the head of a piglet. The magical curse that affected both of them changed everything about them whenever they were splashed with cold water, and that included their insides as well as their outward appearances. P-Chan had the brain of a pig, and the longer Ryoga stayed that way, the more the animal brain would take over. The magic let him retain his sense of self, but that was filtered through the senses and experiences of a pig. Whereas Ryoga was hopeless when it came to directions, P-Chan could always use his nose to make it back to Akane's house without fail. The next time Ryoga would become human again after a whole night spent as P-Chan, the experience would seem like a dream to him, although one he could remember quite clearly.

Although Ryoga fell short of explaining his experience, Ranma herself had a frame of reference for what her rival was dancing around. During times of intense phobia, Ranma would sometimes take on the mental persona of a cat. At such times, Ranma had almost no control, and had heard that she'd even kissed Akane on the cheek once while contentedly curled up in her lap. Ranma cringed inwardly at that, and suddenly, she supposed she understood Ryoga a little more after all her years of knowing him.

"So, you and me had the same idea, I guess," acquiesced Ranma. She walked over to the pile of clothes and threw the pair of blue pants at Ryoga, naked save for the kerchief tied around his head. "You take those, I'll wear the shirt," she told him, taking for herself the red Chinese-style shirt with frog buttons and no sleeves. She'd have to stay in her boxer shorts, but it'd give her more freedom of movement anyway. "Wanna work off some energy, then?"

Once Ryoga finished pulling on the gifted pants, he locked eyes with Ranma with an intense grin on his face, showing off a prominent canine. "You're on, Ranma. I won't lose."

From there, things progressed about exactly as Ranma would've expected. Ryoga rushed her down all gung-ho, but Ranma's smaller, lighter female body let her bob and weave around everything he threw at her. She had a hard time getting offence in past his guard, but Ryoga didn't land any hits on her either. Actually, he couldn't. It didn't matter that he had known Ranma since they were kids at school, Ryoga still pulled every punch before it could land because of the form Ranma was in as they sparred. With every move he made, his rivalry warred with his ingrained sense of chivalry, and that suited Ranma just fine. In the end, his hesitation cost Ryoga the win, with Ranma able to snatch victory once her opponent had tired himself out. To Ryoga, martial arts battles were a sprint; to Ranma, they were a marathon.

In an uncharacteristic show of good sport, Ranma offered a dainty hand to the sweating Ryoga as he lay panting on the dojo floor. That night, she felt a new closeness to Ryoga that made her magnanimous, a small but dangerous first step towards a slippery slope in her near future. Wiping his brow, Ryoga took the offered hand and got to his feet. When they stepped out into the night, it was still dark, which made Ranma look forward to getting a nap in as a man before daybreak. Ryoga, for his part, decided to leave.

"See ya, Ryoga," said Ranma gratefully with a raise of her hand.

"The next night we're both out here, I'll win, Ranma," her rival said without looking back at her as he wandered off beyond the Tendo grounds. Ranma hadn't considered that there would be a next time, but she highly doubted she'd lose. She walked inside and ran her sweaty head under the hot water of the kitchen sink. Then he towelled off and went back to his room, slumping down on his futon to let sleep take him.

That had been the first night, but as Ryoga had predicted, there had been another a few days after that saw the two rivals meet in the dojo in much the same circumstances. For whatever reason, recalling the second night onward made Ranma feel awkward in his manly state, so he went to the washroom to splash some cold water on his face before the memories could take him back there. Padding back to the bedroom, she sighed as she heard Akane still keeping Ryoga held up in conversation. Jumping back on the bed and feeling more comfortable taking up space in the room, Ranma reclined on the blanket and folded her hands behind her head on the pillow as she uncontrollably reminisced.

As their meetings were impromptu, Ranma hadn't brought extra clothes with her in anticipation of meeting Ryoga on the second night, so things went the same as the first night, with her keeping the shirt and offering him the pants once she'd poured hot water over P-Chan. That time, the Chinese shirt was white and the pants black.

Ryoga pulled his kerchief down over his eyes. "Ready, Ranma."

"What's that supposed to do? You really wanna get your ass kicked fast, huh?"

"Just come at me," said Ryoga with determination as he took a ready stance.

She did. Her confidence in her foe's blindness combined with her still riding high from her last win meant she didn't hesitate to take the offensive when it was offered. She quickly found out, though, not to underestimate Ryoga. The man played defence very differently from the limber Ranma, but just as effectively. Where she had dodged, Ryoga simply blocked, his rock-hard hands and arms snapping out in response to each strike she attempted. He was calmer and conserved his energy better than the last time they'd fought. But Ranma didn't understand the handicap he'd given himself. Was it some new technique he'd picked up? Though it had only been a few days, Ryoga seemed to always be stumbling into some new esoteric martial skill as he ran into reclusive masters on the long road he travelled.

Ryoga switched stances with lightning speed whenever Ranma would circle behind him to attack his undefended back, bringing them face-to-face again each time. It was a benefit of keeping a lot of his energy in reserve instead of blowing it all in a berserker rush in the first few minutes. As dumb as Ryoga could be about a lot of things, the reason Ranma saw him as her greatest rival was his combat cleverness, not to mention his thick-headed tenacity.

Then it happened. Almost at the instant Ranma felt the pace of her raining blows starting to slow, Ryoga's fist—which had just deflected a jab at his neck—flashed out and cracked Ranma across the jaw. As he hadn't so much as laid a finger on her in their first late-night dojo fight, she'd forgotten in her cockiness how much harder one of his hits felt when she was a woman. She went down like a sack of rice and understood her opponent's self-imposed blindness the moment her hands found the hardwood. Ryoga had stopped himself from pulling his punches by not letting himself see Ranma's distracting feminine form.

Ryoga wiped his brow, pulled his kerchief off his eyes, and offered Ranma a hand in a reversal of the first night. But whether because she was pouting at her loss, or simply because she'd been the one to exhaust herself that time around, Ranma didn't take the hand, continuing to pant at the floor. Rolling his eyes, Ryoga made a move in impatience that would indirectly seal their fate in the coming days. Gripping both of Ranma's small shoulders with a reflexive gentleness, he hoisted the girl up bodily as if she were made of paper. He set her down on her feet in another one of those there-and-gone moments that seemed to take forever for Ranma. Chalking it up to embarrassment, Ranma huffed and marched out of the dojo. Ryoga sighed, thinking his rival was simply being a bad sport, and followed after her into the cool night.

"If you won't acknowledge that I won, just do better next time," said Ryoga from behind her, making her feel guilty.

"Ah, I'm just tired. You won fair and square," she said with a dismissive wave that matched her tone, not turning to see him. "But I'll get you back."

"Not likely," Ryoga said, and Ranma could hear he was smiling. She elbowed him in the stomach, which turned out to be a horrible mistake because the breath she knocked out of him touched the back of her neck as he went down and gave her goosebumps. She found this repugnant.

"I'll catch you next time, you cocky jerk," said Ranma with a wave as she wandered back towards the house.

"Y-yeah, sure..." she heard Ryoga groan.

Once she was back inside, Ranma made her third and biggest mistake that night when she neglected to turn herself back into a man before flopping down on her futon. She had overexerted herself in her fight with Ryoga, and the call of her bed was greater than the desire to get her hair all wet. Well, more wet.

Ranma had awoken the next morning horrified. She rushed to the bathroom to cleanse herself in a hot bath, but it was occupied, so she was forced to sit in her room and marinate in her shame as she waited for the bath to free up.

She'd seen Ryoga a second time that night after they'd parted ways, in her dreams. It had been the kind of dream that had kicked off her midnight excursions to the dojo in the first place, except it had featured Ryoga instead of...well, a woman. When she'd jolted awake, though, she thankfully hadn't felt the unreleased tension she did when she awoke in her male body. It had been more like waking from a fever dream, where you wonder at the weirdness of what you experienced without it really having any bearing on your mood. That was her only solace about the situation. Still, she shuddered as her brain involuntarily replayed the dream out of morbid fascination. She remembered the feeling of his hands gripping her shoulders but couldn't separate the dream from the real event that had come before. Then, her stomach turning to liquid, she was forced to remember what came next: the feeling of him sliding his—

She shook her head. She didn't know why her brain was showing her something she wanted desperately to just forget. Unbeknownst to Ranma, what Ryoga had confessed to her about his brain adapting to suit his cursed body was true of hers too, only in a way that she hadn't ever had to pay attention to. Ran-chan, as it were, exerted her influence over Ranma in a more insidious way than P-Chan did to Ryoga. Even though she still felt that she liked girls in her red-headed form, it didn't change the fact that the girl whose essence she had been cursed with had just happened to like men. She swallowed hard as her mind crept up on this revelation before fleeing from it in fear.

Being a man again hadn't exactly been the blessing Ranma had hoped for after he'd finally gotten out of the bath, feeling ironically unclean. On the upside, it helped him forget what his female brain and body had done to him, their influence fading into the background as he went about the rest of his day, doing his best to avoid contact with cold water as if it were acid. However, man or woman, he remained a 16-year-old and simply traded one problem for another in the raging hormones department. Different hormones, same goal.

Ranma often needled Akane about things like her thick thighs, but deep down, he knew he acted repulsed by them in a lame attempt to put mental distance between himself and any thoughts of Akane's body as something he could let himself want. After he went to bed, with his mental defences down, that distance often vanished in the heat of the night.

Ranma awoke with the intense urge to do something that the presence of his sleeping father precluded as an option. It was that urge that he'd channelled into the idea of training in the dead of night to let off steam. Forgetting himself for a moment, he got up to douse his feverish head in cold water to try and calm the storm inside him, but then he remembered that he might be steering into a different but equally devastating storm.

In the briefest moment of hormone-induced delirium and panic-induced desperation, Ranma entertained the thought of simply waking up Akane and trying his luck at asking her if she wanted to get some practice in for their looming wedding night. Of course, he knew that his luck with her was pretty awful and that he'd probably get punched, and rightly so. He honestly didn't know how he felt about Akane, but he knew he respected her enough to not even attempt such a ludicrous stunt. There was a seed of something inside of Ranma that might have blossomed into real love had their relationship not gotten off on the wrong foot when he'd seen her naked on the first day they'd met. Ranma wasn't fully aware of this, though, only the idea that asking Akane for erotic favours was something his mind rejected.

He came up with a plan. First, he got over himself and let the cold water run over his hair. Then, feeling more comfortable with the next step of the plan as a fellow woman, she went outside and scaled the side of the Tendo house with ease, stopping to look into Akane's window strictly to gather information. She lucked out, and Akane was sleeping with her face toward the window, which allowed Ranma to see that her cleavage—which looked more ample in her yellow pyjama shirt—was unobstructed by a strangled P-Chan. Ryoga wasn't there tonight. Despite her face rapidly warming at the sight of Akane's chest, Ranma let out a sigh of relief, knowing that she was free to work off all of her tension, including that which was newly building up inside her by the second. As she walked to the dojo feeling light and springy, Ranma took note of a more intense warmth in her lower half than she was used to, but dismissed it as it would soon be forgotten.

Horror struck Ranma when she opened the dojo doors to see Ryoga shadowboxing on the far side of the space. He didn't notice as she came in and shut the doors behind her. Her pride, which transcended her physical form, demanded that she not run away from the situation because of a stupid dream.

"So what're you, some kind of pervert?" Ranma called, letting false bravado distract her from the finer points of the topic she'd brought up: namely, the fact that Ryoga was training while stark naked. She told herself she didn't care.

"Oh, hey, Ranma," said Ryoga, coming to a standstill. "Well, I don't exactly bring clothes with me as P-Chan, and you weren't around to let me borrow any, so I just figured I'd work off some energy then jump in the pond," he shrugged, rubbing the back of his head and acting not nearly modest enough for Ranma's liking. The stupidest part was that Ranma knew that Ryoga wouldn't be able to handle it if their roles were reversed. Hell, she could basically make him faint right there if she wanted to just by exposing her breasts to him.

"How'd you turn human without the kettle?"

"Oh, that. That was just luck," answered Ryoga with a chuckle. "Akane took a hot water bottle for her back to bed with her after a workout. It took a while, but I managed to escape with it and chew it open once I got outside." Ranma could tell how impressed Ryoga was by his own resourcefulness.

"Oh yeah? Are you a trained pet now? That's pretty impressive for someone with a pig brain," needled Ranma skeptically.

"Well, it's easier to think when I've just woken up. I feel more like me when P-Chan's been asleep for a while," Ryoga justified, sounding sheepish.

"Right," scoffed Ranma, arms crossed. "Well, you had your turn, now it's mine. Beat it, pig-boy," she said, shoving past him.

"What? You're not gonna fight me? You scared?" Ryoga taunted.

"You wish. It's obvious you've already tired yourself out, so beating you wouldn't even be a challenge this time," she waved off.

"Hey, I beat you with my eyes closed last time. Besides, I haven't been out here long. Toss me some pants and we'll get started," said Ryoga eagerly, rotating his shoulder in anticipation.

"I didn't bring any, got it?" Ranma wasn't sure why she hadn't. Her guard had been down and she'd felt especially warm, so it'd slipped her mind.

"Well, you can't just kick me out when I'm naked," Ryoga complained.

"Sure I can. Go jump in the pond. That was the plan, remember? No one cares if a pig is naked," she argued, getting more agitated by the second. She just wanted him and his naked body gone. She'd turned to bravely argue with him eye-to-eye, but her eyes wouldn't stay locked on his. She spun back around to end the debate, hating herself for giving Ryoga's hard body a once-over before coming back to herself.

"What's up with you?" Ryoga asked, sounding confrontational to Ranma's warm ears.

"Nothing, ya dumb pig, I just wanna train alone, alright?!" That was enough. It was clear to Ranma that this trip to the dojo was going to rile her up instead of calming her down, so she decided to leave. Screw Ryoga, the thick-headed numbskull. As she marched past him in a huff, Ryoga followed, confused.

"Hey, Ranma, wait up—"

She felt his big hand on her shoulder. She spun around and swatted it off like it was something diseased. "Don't touch me! Mind your own damn business, Ryoga!"

No matter the form, to Ryoga, Ranma was still Ranma. That was why he didn't feel embarrassed to be naked around her like he undoubtedly would around any other girl. It was also why his next move was something he wouldn't fathom doing to any girl except one he still saw as his childhood rival underneath her outward femininity. He grabbed Ranma by the shoulders—again, with a gentleness that his hands decided on independently of his mind—and spoke directly into her face.

"What the hell, Ranma? I thought we were helping each other out. Why are you so mad at me all of a sudden?"

Ranma's body was loaded with plenty of automatic responses to being grappled thanks to her years of training, and any one of them would create the distance she needed to leave Ryoga behind. Unfortunately, the one her body decided on before her brain could tell it to stop, was to sweep Ryoga's legs out from under him with the speed and fluidity of a human whip. He painfully tightened his grip on her shoulders reactively as he went down and brought her with him.

"Get off of me, ya dumb lug!" Ranma protested, squirming. She could feel something resting on her crotch. Her unwanted dream flashed back into her head.

"Sorry!" yelped Ryoga, his instincts taking over as he immediately processed the compromising situation their clashing genders were in. He jumped back from her with the agility of a cat, which only disgusted Ranma further. Wasn't that what she felt tingling its way up her spine? Disgust?

For a long moment, Ranma just lay there, staring at Ryoga as he huddled himself in the corner. Her breath had gotten heavy, and a tingle had joined the warmth she'd been trying to ignore in her boxers. She knew she could yell at Ryoga to get out and that he would now listen; she knew that nothing was stopping her from getting up and leaving, and that Ryoga would now let her. But her mind kept circling back to an idea she'd had earlier involving Akane, one that it had rapidly reformulated to account for someone else. Someone close. Someone who was struggling just like she was.

"Ryoga, I wanna ask you something..."

Ryoga recoiled at the sound of her voice as if she'd slapped him. "O-okay," he answered into the floor.

"But I ain't doing it like this!" Ranma said, then pounced. In one burst of speed, she dashed to Ryoga, hefted him up by one arm, and ran across the dojo dragging him in tow before stopping briefly to slam open one of the doors. Then, she planted her front foot and rolled him over her shoulder in a judo throw that sent him careening through the air. He splashed into the pond like a dart hitting the bullseye. Before P-Chan could even surface, Ranma was at the edge of the pool and plunged her hand into the cold water to pull the piglet out. At first, it squealed and thrashed in her grip, but suddenly stopped when their eyes met.

"Listen up, Ryoga. I'm only saying this once, and no way was I gonna say it to that face of yours," Ranma said, panting from her recent efforts. "You said it. We're helping each other out, right? Well, let's solve our little problem instead of fighting through it. Get it?" In response, P-Chan cocked his head quizzically. Man or pig, Ryoga was still as thick as Ryoga. Ranma sighed and gave the pig a rough shake in frustration. "Listen, idiot. You think I didn't notice what you've got down there? What I'm saying is, you be the guy, I'll be the girl, and we'll do each other a favour as..." Ranma trailed off and broke eye contact. Strangely, the part of this ridiculous proposition she found the most difficult to say was that final word. She took a breath. "A-as friends, okay? Whadaya say?"

Ranma had never seen a pig blush before, but what she'd just managed to say was stranger even than that. She sighed and fell onto her bottom from the squat she'd been in. "Okay, I'll take that as a yes. But once you're a guy again, if you wanna back out, just go, got it? I don't need an explanation," she warned. She went inside, filled a bucket instead of the kettle with hot water, and brought it out, placing it on the grass next to P-Chan. "Here, you can climb in this, right?" she asked. She watched the piglet circle the bucket, then look up at her and nod. "Okay. I'll meet you back in the dojo, just..." she reddened in spite of herself, "just wait until I'm in there, okay?" With that, she made her way back inside the training space and slid the door shut once more.

Her heart was thundering in the dark. She couldn't believe what she'd managed to say, but now that she had, she felt like her body was going into overdrive with expectation. The warm tingle was back, and she squeezed her thighs together. She wasn't sure if it was that action or the anticipation, but she felt butterflies explode into her stomach as she waited. Was this going to work? Were either of them going to back out?

Slow, deliberate footsteps cut off her train of thought. She held her breath as she heard them draw closer to the door, then screwed her eyes shut when she thought the door was about to slide open. Instead, a timid knock issued from the other side. Ranma let out the breath she'd been holding as nervous laughter.

"Ranma, can I come in?"

Ryoga sounded different to her in the dark. "Yeah," she told him. The door slid open beside her and Ryoga did as instructed. He seemed taller to her than she remembered from only a few minutes before. The way the moonlight half illuminated his form made him seem like a marble statue partially carved out of the unhewn rock that was his shadowed side. "Close the door," demanded Ranma, red-faced, just to have something to say. Again, Ryoga did as he was told. For a long moment, they both just breathed in the dark. Though moonlight still shafted in, it didn't seem to light the dojo's interior nearly as much as when they'd sparred by it.

"Uh, Ranma? What do we—"

"Come on," Ranma interrupted, pushing him by the shoulder further into the dark dojo. "Now sit down."

Once Ryoga had sat obediently, Ranma wondered to herself the best way to proceed. There was no way they were doing anything face-to-face, so the traditional position was out of the question. She wasn't interested in them having to look into each other's eyes. She briefly considered having Ryoga...enter her from behind, but decided in the same instant that it felt too submissive. Just because Ryoga was the man in this equation didn't mean that Ranma was going to let him act like it.

"Okay, I'm gonna get myself ready now, so don't move until I say you can. I don't want to hear anything out of you until I'm done," she told him. She saw him nod and swallow nervously with her night-adapted vision, but he said nothing. Without another word, Ranma dropped to her knees behind Ryoga, grabbed onto his shoulders, and shyly began rubbing the front of her boxers against his lower back. The friction within her shorts made her tingle even more with rising excitement, and soon she found herself grinding into Ryoga's back as he stayed completely still either out of obedience or tension. Maybe it wasn't ladylike, but Ranma wasn't a lady.

At first, she thought of Akane. She'd accidentally seen Akane naked enough times that the vision of her fiancée's nude form was easy enough to bring to her mind's eye and titillate herself with. That very thing had led to the troublesome dreams in the first place. However, as she went on, and her hands slid of their own accord off of Ryoga's shoulders to snake under his arms and press into his chest, she found that the hot sensation of his rock-hard form in her hands began to do the job just as well. That worried her, but her building excitement quickly drowned out that worry.

When she could feel that the crotch of her boxers was wet, and her breath came in shallow gasps, she forced herself to break off her gyrations. Now she was ready for what came next. She raised herself on quivering legs and walked around Ryoga, keeping one hand on his shoulder for balance and guidance. She wasn't surprised to see him already standing at attention with the way she'd been using him. His breathing was heavy, and each gasp made the thing nod. It was bigger than Ranma's when hers was the body of a man, but she tried to put thoughts of that side of herself out of mind.

"Ready, Ryoga?" she asked, her back to him.

"Yeah," he panted.

"Bend your knees."

Once that was done, Ranma spread her legs over Ryoga so that she had a foot planted on either side of the man's hips. Then she dropped to her knees slowly, one at a time, until she rested on her calves with her rear up and her wet, pink folds hovering just above the towering epicentre of his excited blood flow. She reached down and attempted to handle it, drawing her hand away when the hard core of Ryoga's mounting arousal pulsed in response to her touch. Inwardly, she chuckled giddily at her apprehension, but kept quiet on the outside. It wasn't like she hadn't seen or handled one of those before, after all. Calming herself, she again reached to hold the part of Ryoga she'd seen too much of but handled so little. Guiding it into herself, she was immediately thankful she had ensured she was dripping with pleasure beforehand. Because of that, his entry was a smooth one as she slowly lowered herself to sit on his crotch, her breath catching a couple of times along the way. The sensation of Ryoga plunging deep inside her was exciting in itself, but when she placed her hands on his knees to leverage herself up, then let herself descend back down his length, she shuddered with excitement, which Ryoga echoed behind her.

She felt his hands on her thighs and couldn't blame him. Her hands had made their way around his body earlier without her meaning to let them during her preparation. Still, it felt too personal.

"Hands off," she said. It sounded harsh but she couldn't care. They weren't lovers and she wasn't going to let their fevered bodies pretend like they were. Ryoga's wandering hands moved to lay palm-down on the the dojo floor. "Okay, I'll start now," she whispered, as much to herself as to Ryoga. She began pumping herself up and down, and it felt great, like she was finally taking the action that would free her from the tension she'd been living under. But something was missing. Though she enjoyed it, she could hear from the noises Ryoga made that he had quickly reached a different level.

It felt as though the extension of Ryoga sheathed inside of her was slowly knocking at the door beyond which lay her ultimate salvation, and would eventually break through. In contrast, Ryoga sounded like "eventually" was barrelling towards him at breakneck speed. It was just like how he tired himself early during sparring sessions. If she let him explode before she could reach her peak, her night would be wasted. She didn't want to be something Ryoga got to use to beat her to the sexual finish line. This race would be a tie or she'd have it called on account of pride.

Ranma slowed her rhythm while she removed one hand from Ryoga's knee and reached down with two fingers to massage the spot just above the fiery pink bud of concentrated pleasure that had peeked out of her folds—that which she had rubbed against Ryoga's broad, muscled back to bring the warm waves of readiness crashing into her. Her fingertips circled just beyond its reach, infusing her with a heat that fuelled a reinvigorated return to the pumping that had all but stopped as she explored herself.

Ryoga started grunting words, but Ranma couldn't make sense of them in her pleasurable delirium. Her wet fingertips eventually slipped down to touch the bud itself, by which time she'd closed the gap between them in the race. As both felt the approaching finish line, she began to tap it with her fingers until the thrill of it all threatened to paralyze her with a tingling current that raced between their connected forms. She had no choice but to slap the busy hand onto the hardwood to brace herself against the coming storm. Her entire body tensed as she weathered it with Ryoga, not a single muscle being spared a violent contraction of ecstasy. The sounds that escaped her as the energy crested and then ebbed embarrassed her mightily, but there was nothing she could do to prevent them.

That was the way their first such entanglement ended. They would have two more before the month was out. The second time, a week after the first—because it took that long for her to decide she wasn't so prideful to not want to try it again—Ranma experimented with fondling her breast as she slid Ryoga into and out of her. It was a little more convenient but a lot less pleasurable, and she eventually resorted to sliding her hand down once more. Still, she'd liked what it added, so during the third time, she swallowed what little pride she'd clung to and had Ryoga sit up with his back against the dojo wall. She justified to herself that this position made it seem less like she was the active one doing him a favour which he passively accepted. They were able to lean into each other as she worked, and she instructed him to touch her breasts as she found her place cradled in his hot, firm chest. He had obeyed gamely. As the storm came upon them that time, Ranma worried herself when she impulsively slapped a hand on the side of Ryoga's neck as they rode it out together. In retrospect, sitting on Akane's bed with her knees pulled up to bury her face in, that moment had seemed too "close" to her. Passion made her do strange things in the throes of it, and though she waited with anticipation for Ryoga to come upstairs, the thought of it also made her nervous.

Then he did, and there was no more time.

"Ryoga," Ranma called from between her knees, knowing that, without the sound of her voice to follow, Ryoga would get lost looking for the right room. It still took him a stupidly long time to finally pop his head curiously into Akane's bedroom.

"Oh, there you are."

"Is Akane gone?"

"Yeah, shopping or something. She told me to help myself to whatever I could find," he said, innocently pointing out Akane's trust in him while dumbly missing the unintended double meaning. "Anyway, want me to meet you in the dojo?"

Ranma brought her face up to scoff at him directly. "No way, you'll get lost before I get outside." Rather than be insulted, Ryoga just nodded contemplatively. "We're already both here, just come in," she told him. He stared at her like she was crazy.

"What? In Akane's room?" He looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time, his face reddening as he scanned.

"Why not? You've been in here before. Hell, you've been in this bed plenty of times," Ranma said with a devious grin.

"As P-Chan!"

Ranma shrugged. "Same thing. Listen, I'll take the bedding off and I'll make it back up neat before she gets home, okay? She's not gonna know. Plus, aren't you tired of the hard floor?"

"B-but, in a b-bed?" Ryoga stammered into the floor as he rubbed the back of his head and, shockingly, went even redder.

"Hey, if you're gonna be weird about it, forget it," Ranma said, frowning.

"Wait!" cried Ryoga in response, taking a single pace past the doorway like a soldier breaking ranks. "I'll do it," he said, face red and fists clenched in determination at his sides.

Once Ranma had removed Akane's bedding, leaving only the pillows and bare mattress, she told Ryoga to go ahead and lie down. He stepped towards the bed, then seemed to reconsider and stopped. Ranma examined his thoughtful expression.

"What's up, Ryoga?" she asked.

"Hey, Ranma..." Ryoga began, looking only at the bed, sounding nervous, "Do you think that...you could lie down this time?"

Uh-oh.

"Whoa, whoa, Ryoga," Ranma said through nervous laughter as she put her hands up defensively to ward off the suggestion. "Don't you think that's a bit too much like we're..." she trailed off as her brain sabotaged her with a flurry of images she'd rather not see, or make real.

"Like we're what?" came Ryoga's voice to snap her out of it. Of course the idiot couldn't put together what she was trying to get at.

"Listen, I already know what I'm doing, right?"

"Exactly," agreed Ryoga in exasperation. "I don't know what I'm doing at all. I'm not getting any better with you doing everything all the time."

It clicked for Ranma then that her rival was thinking of their entanglements the same way he thought about martial arts. Like an idiot. But Ranma could understand the warrior's drive to want to master a new skill, and she supposed that, in a way, he must have felt like he was falling behind her. No matter the situation, Ryoga wasn't somebody who was going to take that lying down.

"Hold it," said Ranma as she considered the situation. Maybe there was a way to make this work after all. She knew Ryoga, so she knew that she could lie back and count on him to tire himself out before flipping him over before his energy was spent and come out on top, in both senses of the word. He could get her started, at least. She'd have to put up with seeing him atop her for a while, but if she refused outright, he might leave, and her reminisces while he and Akane talked already had her body eager to start. "Okay, fine," she agreed.

Without having to be told, Ryoga turned around so they could both undress. Dense as he was, he'd picked up on the oddities of their times together, like how Ranma didn't like to be seen disrobing as if she was putting on a sexy show. Having his back turned to her also allowed Ranma to ogle him like a true hypocrite without realizing she was doing it. Once she was naked, Ranma slid onto the bed. Ryoga's face reddened when he saw her, making Ranma feel weird, and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Just calm down and get over here already," she huffed.

"Right," said Ryoga, clearing his throat. He looked her up and down as if confused. "Um...do you wanna loosen up first?"

At first, Ranma was confused by what sounded like pre-fight talk in the middle of their newer type of encounter, until she realized what Ryoga was talking about: she sat on the bed with her back against the headboard and knees drawn up. Blowing out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, she slid herself down and extended her legs. Resting her head on the pillow, she reminded herself that the longer she dragged this out, the longer it would take for her to turn things around. Then she thought better of it and instead propped herself up on one forearm as she waited for Ryoga to find his courage. That way, she could look him in the eye. It didn't occur to her in the moment that looking him in the eye had, up until then, been exactly what she'd worked to avoid.

"You ready?" she said, trying to sound impatiently annoyed rather than hungrily impatient. For an answer, Ryoga approached the foot of the bed as if in a daze before taking a breath and partially mounting it, propping up on one knee and the opposite hand to hover above Ranma's legs. She anxiously squeezed them together, but it felt good.

"So, you're okay if I start? Want me to do anything?"

I want you to get it over with, thought Ranma exasperatedly. "Yeah, knock yourself out, Ryoga. Do what you like—just don't try to hug me or anything while you're doing it."

Ryoga nodded seriously. "Okay, then." Ryoga's free hand reached down and caressed high up on Ranma's thigh. It gave her goosebumps she cursed herself for and she couldn't deny how good it made her feel. Then Ryoga lifted his other hand from the bed and put the first two fingers of it in his mouth. They came out and, before she could say anything, found their way inside her. Ranma's back arched away from the mattress as she was shocked with unexpected arousal. She was already panting when her spine touched the bed again, which made it hard to say her piece.

"H-hey, what's the big idea, Ryoga?" she managed to pant out before letting her head fall onto the pillow and throwing an arm over her eyes. Ryoga's fingers were working in and out of her in a way she didn't want to tell him to stop.

"You think I haven't noticed you the other times?" Asked Ryoga a bit irritably, as if he felt slighted at being underestimated. "Is this okay, Ranma?" She knew he wasn't asking for the permission she'd already given him, but inquiring about his technique. He was a man who prided himself on his physical skill. For a moment, Ranma's fevered brain went to war with itself in deciding whether or not she wanted to give Ryoga the key to driving her wild. On one hand, doing so would go against her initial plan; on the other, she couldn't seem to muster the will to give a damn about her plan at that moment.

She broke down and started giving him breathless instructions. What he was doing didn't immediately blow her mind, but it was done with a kind of skill and attentiveness that a voice within Ranma told her to nurture rather than denounce. In no time, Ryoga had gently but powerfully hooked her in the spot that set her mind ablaze with delight each time he flexed his fingers. She couldn't think, which was a blessing, because the thought of Ryoga being the source of her pleasure might have made her foolishly put a stop to it.

Ryoga did that instead, only for a moment. His fingers withdrew from her and Ranma was about to lift her head to demand an explanation when she suddenly felt his hot breath where his fingers had just vacated after warming her up from inside.

This was bad. But not bad enough for her to want to stop.

Between her legs, Ranma was now in full bloom, and Ryoga flattened his tongue against her petals and drew it up her channel, drinking greedily from her as if collecting a price for what he'd given. She shuddered deliciously.

"Ranma?" she heard him ask as if from miles away. Whatever he wanted, he could have if he just shut his mouth, or at least put it back where it belonged.

"Shut up, Ryoga," cried Ranma instead of the unspeakable alternative of don't stop. The next sound out of her mouth wasn't a word, but a hopeless moan—Ryoga's lips had closed around the pinpoint of her excitement that she'd half-hoped he'd miss. When he'd first licked her, the tip of his tongue had flicked against it as he'd come away to ask his stupid question, and that had led to Ranma's ultimate downfall. He sucked at—first cautiously, then ravenously—it until Ranma covered her face with both hands out of embarrassment at the sounds she made in response. She could almost cry, if not for the pride stored in the one part of her mind that refused to let go and fall into the abyssal rapture.

As the intensity started to ebb, Ranma became aware of Ryoga's knees against her thighs. "Well," she heard him say, "wanna switch now?" The question wasn't teasing, but entirely sincere. It was clear that Ryoga thought he'd proven himself and was willing to accept his victory nobly, just like when he'd bested Ranma with a single blow while blindfolded and then offered to help her up rather than gloating. But Ranma felt she was an eon of pleasure removed from the version of her that cared about maintaining her streak of perceived dominance of the sexual act.

Ranma reluctantly uncovered her sweating face once more. "What's the matter?" she panted, managing a smirk. "Don't think you have what it takes...to finish me off?" If she dared him to act, then he was still doing what she wanted. From where she was, that was more than enough to satisfy Ranma's dwindling pride.

Ryoga answered her smirk with one of his own. "I'm not about to give up that easy, Ranma."

The challenge was set. Ryoga moved to answer it. At the same moment, Ranma made a move of her own: summoning the strength to lift herself, she slid back to lean against the headboard once more so that she no longer lied flat. If nothing else, she would at least ensure Ryoga didn't get to look down at her.

Compared to the first time she'd felt him inside of her, Ranma's body's reaction was magnitudes more intense thanks to her entryway having been so thoroughly primed to receive him. Her hands, which propped her up, clawed at the mattress because she wouldn't allow herself to touch him. Grabbing onto him would be too much. Ryoga, for his part, following the edict she'd laid down in the beginning, braced himself with his hands placed on the bed where they made no contact with Ranma. From this position, he drove into her continuously and ever more rapidly.

Ranma continued to embarrass herself as she gasped out girlish moans with each push Ryoga made deeper inside her. And this time he could see her face! It was her worst thought come to life. Everything she'd done since they'd started their entanglements had been to avoid them being face-to-face during the act. With her eyes shut tight, she couldn't know if he was looking, but she knew that she didn't want him to see whatever expression she was wearing.

Thankfully for Ranma, it wasn't long before rhapsodic bliss blasted her self-conscious thoughts away as it lit up her mind. Though she couldn't see him, the way he moaned and the sensation of his back muscles hardening beneath her disobedient fingers both let her know that Ryoga was transported along with her. In the end, she clung to him like a raft as she was tossed about in a sea of pleasure, its waves slamming into her over and over. Eventually, the storm passed and Ranma was able to open her eyes again, though she made sure to remove her hands from Ryoga first. They breathed in each other's panted breaths. They saw each other through eyes so glazed with dreamy satisfaction that they were like those of two strangers. That was when it happened.

A kiss. Fleeting when it could have been long, sweet instead of passionate. A small kiss that was all the moment had seemed to call for, there and gone.

Wait. Ryoga had kissed her. That was not good. Right?

Right. Of course, right.

As that realization dawned on her clearing mind, Ranma saw her shock mirrored in Ryoga's face. She guessed he'd caught himself by surprise as much as her. The dumb lunk's eyes were brimming with tears.

"Ranma..."

"Ryoga..." Her tone somehow came out devoid of the anger she'd been expecting.

"I'm...I'm sorry, Ranma!" With that, Ryoga leapt from the used bed. Fuelled by embarrassment, he launched himself out of Akane's bedroom window, nakedly, in such a way that he took the entire frame and a good chunk of plaster with him. That was going to be harder to keep from Akane than what they'd done in her bed, thought Ranma tiredly. She sighed, guessing that Ryoga's impulsive slip-up probably meant the end of their entanglements together.

She would have to wait and see the next time he wandered back to the house.