18
There's a woman inside of me, and she don't always do pretty things
When he and Ranma arrived back at the Tendo Dojo, Ryoga felt a mix of emotions.
The first was a sense of relief as they passed through the front gates. The Tendo Dojo had always been much like a second home to him over the years, and especially after having spent the last few weeks here it had become a place of comfort to him. A place that was mostly untouched by time, even if the absence of the Tendo family in general hung in the air, and the absence of Akane even more still.
Maybe it was a bit of an unhealthy attachment. It was the first place that had given him a sense of not only solace, but human company, since he had arrived back in Japan after many long years. It was like he was a fresh hatchling, and the Tendo Dojo, the place in which he had clung to for safety and stability, had been imprinted into his very being.
But as they moved deeper into the house, Ryoga's relief was diminished upon seeing the state in which things had been left since his sudden departure just a few days ago.
The worst of it was in the washitsu, which was riddled with empty bottles and cans littering the tatami. There were also a few glass cups of varying sizes on the kotatsu, mostly empty, though clearly they had been filled with liquid at some point or another and then left unwashed. A few still had thin puddles of amber liquid at the bottom of the glass, oxidised and leaving behind milky residue.
Ranma paid none of this any mind, and Ryoga knew better than to comment on it.
Guilt pooled in the depths of Ryoga's guts, turning dark and rotten like the neglected drops of the spirits in the smattering of glassware.
The mess persisted in the kitchen. There were more bottles set out on the counter, and a sink filled to the brim with dirty dishes. Ryoga recognized them as the cookware used when Ranma had prepared dinner the night of their argument, as well as the containers the leftover food had been packed away in. Whether the food had been eaten or simply scooped out into the trash before the containers were then dumped to fester in the sink, Ryoga was unable to glean.
Ryoga also spotted the two glasses he had used for the parfaits he had prepared that same night, both sitting amongst the rest of the dirty dishes, with globs of custard and cream that had crusted to the inside of the cups.
Ranma had taken Shirokuro upstairs to prepare a makeshift dog bed for her so she could continue her rest, and Ryoga took this chance to investigate a bit further, opening up the trash bin. There he saw the discarded remains of the dinner Ranma had made that night, some globs that could pass for custard, and some other bits of food which seemed to be some other leftovers from a dinner Ryoga had prepared earlier in the previous week.
Ryoga's heart sank, his fears confirmed. He had thought that Ranma's face had a gaunt quality to it, but had thought that was due to a few days of bad sleep and heavy drinking. But it would appear to also be due to the fact that Ranma had not taken any chances soaking up the alcohol with food, and that booze was quite possibly to be the only thing Ranma might have put in his body for the last three days.
He shut the lid on the trash bin, unable to look at the turning food nor endure the smell any longer.
In fact, the whole of the kitchen smelled acrid and stale, thanks to both the bin of trash filled with food soon to sprout spores and a sink of dishes Ranma had not bothered to rinse the food particles from.
Ryoga wasn't quite sure what was worse: Ranma not eating, or Ranma leaving the house so messy. Both were so deeply uncharacteristic of the Ranma he had known. The lack of appetite was one thing; when Ryoga had first arrived there was a clear sign of neglect for a proper diet, but there had been plenty of instant ramen packets in the trash bin. So he was still eating something, even if it didn't exactly hold much nutritional value.
And Ryoga had noticed in his previous observations that Ranma's appetite, while nowhere close to holding the same gusto as before, was still present most days. He never quite cleaned a plate, and certainly never went for seconds, but he ate. There had been a few days where Ranma hardly even grazed on his dinner, though Ryoga had not commented on it at the time. He likely would have if it had ever turned into a days-long offence, but Ranma never seemed to hit the forty-eight hour mark before he at the very least had a snack, so Ryoga let the matter go.
Hopefully he could do the same now. Getting the drinking under control would be enough of a task in and of itself. There was no doubt of a disordered approach to Ranma's eating habits, but nothing that was bringing up red flags just yet.
The careless state in which Ranma had left the house was a new behaviour, however, and worrisome. Ranma had always been a bit of a neat freak, and it was a trait which Ryoga had witnessed from staying here. If Ryoga didn't start dishes pretty much instantaneously after any meal was finished, then Ranma would already be in front of the sink washing up. He would sweep once a day at minimum and vacuum on days when he was in a particularly favourable mood. Despite leaving his futon in a crumpled mess on the floor, he still laundered all the linen once a week.
Out of all the other ways Ranma had changed, his need for cleanliness had not been one of them. To see that once untainted part of Ranma became so in the literal tainting of his home had Ryoga's heart feeling like it was being slowly eaten by a single botfly.
Things had gone to such shit in just the few days he had been away. Ryoga worried that whatever slight progress had been made during his weeks here previously had been catapulted a hundred paces back in just three short days. Ryoga already felt a deep sense of responsibility for ensuring Ranma's wellbeing; it had been his mission upon first arriving. But now after his foolhardy exit, and seeing the damage it had left in its wake, Ryoga could only hope he would be able to mend it.
Ryoga headed upstairs, looking to drop off his bag, which he had repacked with a few more of his own clothes so he wouldn't have to keep on borrowing everything from Akane's old boy-side closet. Whether he wore his own or Akane's clothes, it was all still hanging off of him, anyway, so he might as well wear his own and shed at least one layer of guilt off of himself.
When he entered the guest room, there was a bundle of unused futon blankets bunched up into a cosy-looking dog bed, and Shirokuro was already curled up on it, fast asleep. Ryoga carefully set his bag against the nearby wall, and turned to leave the room, when Ranma re-entered.
"I'm gonna go out and get her some stuff," Ranma said, "Does she use any particular brand of food, or am I good to just get whatever?"
They hadn't bothered bringing any of Shirokuro's things when they had left the Hibiki residence, thinking it would be easier to just get some supplies from closer by, rather than lugging everything to the next town over.
Ryoga shook his head. "No, Mom could never get to the same pet supply store more than once, so she would just get whatever was available. She's never been on a steady diet of any particular brand."
Ryoga looked over his shoulder to his sleeping pet for a moment, then back to Ranma. "I'm gonna stay with her, make sure she keeps down her first dose of meds."
Ranma nodded. "Back in a bit."
"See you." Ryoga said, careful not to let out the 'thank you' that threatened to tumble out past his lips, knowing Ranma would just tell him to stop thanking him constantly, and likely remind him yet again that he was doing this for Shirokuro's sake, not Ryoga's.
They both left the guest room, leaving Shirokuro to her well-needed rest. Ryoga followed Ranma downstairs, seeing him off at the genkan. As soon as the door closed behind Ranma, Ryoga felt a swell of determination within him. He spun on his heel and pushed up his sleeves as he strode back into the kitchen and hunted down a garbage bag, then moved into the washitsu with a newfound purpose.
First he tackled getting rid of all the empty bottles and cans, plucking them up off the floor and dumping them into the bag. He decided to move through and double-check other areas, just in case. It seemed like Ranma's day-long bender hadn't grown far outside of the washitsu and kitchen, however.
The furo was fine, and so was the smaller guest room on the main floor, which housed several boxes and bins much like Kasumi's old bedroom had. Ryoga had never really explored this room before when he'd first come back here, and didn't have time to worry about it at the moment, so he shut the door and moved on.
The master bedroom which had previously been Soun's before he'd been displaced to the small guest room when Happosai had taken over the master suite, was now also being used similarly for storage, though not as much as the previous rooms. There was a bundle in the corner of extra blankets used for the kotatsu, and some other additional bedding. Tucked away amongst the sheets was something else that gave Ryoga some pause.
It was a large wooden cask, with a label on the front written in Chinese, with an additional label next to it, written slightly less legibly, in Japanese.
Ryoga did not require the translation, because he had seen the cask before, along with the others that had been sent out alongside it, six years ago.
Ranma had told him this is where he had left it, but actually seeing the cask of the Nannichuan water Ryoga had sent and that Ranma had never used still left Ryoga frozen in place, feeling slightly cold all over as he stared across the dark room at the unassuming cask.
Ryoga stepped into the room and up to the cask, which only came up to just below his knees where it sat on the tatami amongst the bedsheets and blankets.
He kneeled down, and ran a finger along the top of the cask. It left a streak as his finger cut through a layer of dust. Ryoga let out a short exhale, and pushed himself to his feet. He did not give the cask a parting glance as he exited the room, going back to his task.
Ryoga moved on to the kitchen, disposing of the few cans and bottles left on the countertops. With that taken care of, it was on to the rest of the clean. He gathered some cleaning supplies from the cupboard below the dirty kitchen sink, and went back into the washitsu. There were a few condensation rings on the kotatsu, so he wiped those clean. The rest of the room seemed alright, though he might do a vacuum after he was finished with the rest. And so he moved back into the kitchen to tackle the pile of dishes and the garbage.
After all the dishes were spotless and left to dry on the rack, and the garbage had been taken out and replaced with a fresh bag, Ryoga was back in the kitchen looking at a few of the large bottles of spirits that had been left out on the counter.
For a moment, he considered dumping them.
Swallowing roughly, Ryoga moved closer to the collection of bottles and picked one up. He held it up to the light so he could look through the dark brown glass to try and gauge the amount of alcohol that was left. Out of the four bottles, one was quite nearly empty, with perhaps half of a small glass worth left. That one seemed safe enough to toss.
Not allowing himself to waffle on it so he could not lose his nerve, Ryoga pulled the stopper off the bottle and turned it over above the freshly-cleaned sink, watching the amber liquid glug out and vanish down the drain. The other three bottles were all half or slightly less than half full, a fact which Ryoga was certain that Ranma was well aware of. He would know if they had been disposed of, and Ryoga was equally as certain that Ranma would not be impressed if they were.
But if there appeared to be more booze in the bottle, perhaps…
Ryoga bit his lip. It was risky. Ranma was just as likely to notice the lack of potency in the liquor as he was to notice there was less in the bottle. But maybe he would still rather have watered-down booze than no booze at all.
Heart hammering with anxiety, Ryoga took the bottle of vodka and held it under the tap. He carefully twisted on the tap, so there was just a small trickle of water. He put the bottle under the stream of water, just for a moment, and then pulled back to examine the contents. Vodka would be the easiest to water down, as it was already colourless. He could get away with watering it down a touch more, probably.
He put the bottle under the tap once more, filling it with another inch or so of water. Alright, that was probably about as much as he could get away with.
He set the bottle aside after putting the stopper back in place. He took the empty bottle he'd dumped into the sink outside with the rest of the glass recycling. Back in the kitchen, he inspected the final two bottles. Both of them had amber liquor inside, one had a clear glass bottle, and the other was a dark brown glass. The one with the dark brown glass bottle would be much easier to water down. Ryoga repeated the same process as before with this bottle, doing a brief, experimental pass under the stream of water before going back to fill it as much as he was comfortable doing so.
For good measure, he took a quick swig straight from the bottle, his nose instantly scrunching up as the sharp alcohol hit his tongue. Well, it still tasted plenty strong, at least to him. Maybe it still needed more water?
He gave it another quick pass under the water, then decided to put the stopper back on and set it aside. He could always add more water, but he couldn't take it back out. It was better to just leave it be. This plan wasn't going to work if Ranma caught onto it straight away.
Ryoga used much more restraint with the final bottle, since it was a clear glass. He put it under the water only once, too worried about altering the colour of the liquor too obviously and beyond mending. Once that was done, the bottles were all put away in their respective cupboard, and Ryoga washed out the sink with hot water and plenty of soap to conceal the smell of the booze he had dumped out earlier.
It was while Ryoga was finishing up with vacuuming the washitsu that Ranma returned from his errands. He spotted Ranma passing by in the hallway and heading toward the kitchen, not acknowledging Ryoga as he went, carrying a large bag in his arms, and several plastic bags hung on to the crook of his left elbow. Ryoga turned off the vacuum and followed Ranma into the kitchen, where he found him setting down a bag of dog food against the wall. The plastic bags had been left on the newly-cleaned countertops, and Ranma stepped over and began unpacking them.
Ryoga stared at the items that appeared from the bags. First were two stainless steel bowls, for food and water. Next came several bottles that upon further investigation as Ryoga walked up to the counter for a closer look, were shampoo and conditioner and a smaller spray bottle which the label described to be a cologne for dogs.
Ranma also laid out a comb and a dematting brush, shears, and nail clippers. A tube of toothpaste and a brush, and a kit of what looked to be dental tools. After that followed a three-pack of bright purple tennis balls, a rubber chew toy in the shape of a chicken leg, a fuzzy frog with eyes that rattled, and a pack of dried jerky.
"Holy shit," Ryoga said in awe, overlooking what was no doubt a very expensive trip to the pet store. "Ranma, you…you didn't have t—"
"Can ya grab the dog bed at the front door?" Ranma cut in, "You can stick it in the washitsu."
Ryoga blinked rapidly. Ranma had even gotten a dog bed? He supposed that giving Shirokuro some unused futon blankets to sleep on wouldn't exactly cut it, but it was good enough. Shirokuro was happy to sleep just about anywhere, after all.
"S-sure."
Ryoga turned to leave the kitchen.
"Hey."
Ryoga stopped, and looked over his shoulder. Ranma's back was to him now, and he stood at the sink. Ryoga felt his heart leap. "...Yeah?"
"Thanks…for cleanin' up," Ranma said, still not looking back at Ryoga as he began to wash out the two stainless steel bowls. "Didn't have to do that."
Actually, I really did. "No problem." Ryoga replied, trying to keep the relief out of his voice.
Then he exited the kitchen and went over to the genkan where he found a large, plush dog bed waiting. He picked it up and brought it into the washitsu, placing it by the wall. It certainly looked cosy; Shirokuro would be pleased.
Thinking of Shirokuro, Ryoga went upstairs to check in on his resting pet. She awoke when the shoji door to the guest room rattled along its tracks, looking over at Ryoga curiously. Ryoga smiled as he walked over and knelt down to give the dog a rub between the ears. Other than looking slightly groggy from her well-earned nap, she no longer appeared to be in any discomfort. The antibiotics seemed to be doing their job.
"Ranma's totally spoiled you," Ryoga said, "Come on downstairs and see."
Ryoga rose to his feet, and after a deep stretch of her back and hind legs, Shirokuro followed after him to go downstairs. Back in the kitchen, Ranma had the bowls set up next to the microwave stand, filled up with food and water and placed atop a rubber mat to catch fallen kibble and water drops. Shirokuro was quick to investigate her new setup, and Ryoga was elated to see her try a few bites of the dry food. It looked like her appetite was already starting to come back.
"You think she'd be up for a bath?" Ranma asked as the two of them watched her lap up some water.
"She's already doing so much better, and I think she'd feel great if she got nice and clean, too." Ryoga said, "The vet did say I need to make sure she's clean, especially with the hair around her, uh, lady bits."
Ranma nodded. "I was gonna see if she'd let me give her a trim," he said.
Ryoga looked at Ranma curiously. "Have you done that kind of thing before?"
Ranma shrugged. "I gave Pop a haircut a few times."
Ryoga squinted. "Isn't he bald?"
"Yeah, as a human. I mean I gave his panda form trims." Ranma clarified, "He spends half his time like that, so it needed some upkeep."
The visual of Ranma giving Genma's panda form a haircut caused a bark of laughter to burst out of Ryoga. He could see it in his mind's eye, Ranma sat out on the engawa chopping off matted tufts of black and white fur from a giant panda reading the newspaper.
"So I guess you're just trading one black-and-white animal for another." Ryoga said amusedly.
"Yep. I'm sure Shirokuro won't give me nearly as hard a time, either. Pop never sat still."
"Well, unless you think you'll need a hand with her, I was thinking about getting in some practice in the dojo, and then starting on dinner?" Ryoga said.
"Knock yourself out."
With that, the two of them went about their separate tasks, Ranma leading Shirokuro to the furo with his cleaning and grooming supplies in hand, and Ryoga off to the dojo.
Hopefully with just a few days off from any practice, he wouldn't be too rusty. It would be nice to get back into the routine again, not to mention back to seeing some progress as his strength and skill slowly returned to him.
It was good to be back.
—
By the time Ryoga was finished in the dojo, he was covered head to toe in a layer of sweat. He could tell that his stamina was definitely improving; he was able to go a lot longer and harder in his workouts before he broke a sweat, but his muscles would really be feeling it tomorrow, especially after having gone from zero to a hundred after three days of nothing.
Ranma was likely finished with Shirokuro's bath, which meant the furo ought to be free for him to wash up before getting started on making some dinner. He plotted out what he ought to make that evening as he walked back towards the house.
Upon entering, Ryoga could hear a rushing sound coming from the furo, which got louder as he made his way closer. Opening the door, he found Ranma crouched on the ground next to Shirokuro, waving a hairdryer to and fro along the dog's body, drying her fur. Shirokuro was looking much more dry than Ranma, whose hair stuck to his forehead, dripping wet along with the rest of him. He was also in his cursed form, a sight Ryoga had not seen since the day they had visited Akane's grave and gotten rained on during the walk home.
Ryoga couldn't help the bubble of a laugh that broke out of his mouth at the soaked state Ranma was in. "Looks like bath time was eventful!" Ryoga called over the sound of the hairdryer.
Ranma did not look up from his task, but Ryoga saw his face turn into a scowl, and knew he had heard him. He shut off the hairdryer and let out a soft sigh.
"I guess she thought me turning on the shower meant playtime," Ranma explained, "She kept dancing around and wanted to eat the water. Then she pounced on me and I slipped, grabbed the tap and twisted it back to cold on my way down, and well, this happened." Ranma finished, gesturing to himself for emphasis.
Ryoga tried his best to hold down his amused chuckle, but his face was having a hard time concealing his mirth. "Was that the only setback?"
"She wasn't the biggest fan of gettin' her nails trimmed, kept pulling her paw away at first, but she got through it," Ranma replied as he ran a brush along Shirokuro's coat, "I got a whole other dog worth of hair outta her when I brushed her earlier, she seems to be sheddin' less after bein' washed. Her ears were pretty dirty. I'm gonna clean her teeth next, her gums are lookin' pretty red and she's got a lot of plaque…"
Ryoga had an openly guilty expression on his face that grew more and more pained as Ranma rattled off all the ways in which he had failed as a pet owner. "It's a wonder that she's only gotten a UTI in all this time, with how terribly she's been looked after." Ryoga grumbled, bitter at his own carelessness.
Ranma watched Ryoga for a moment, then stepped over to the sink and opened up the plastic sleeve that held the canine dental tools he had purchased, looking them over to see which tool did what.
"I wasn't tryna make a dig at you," Ranma said quietly, "It ain't like you were here, can't exactly blame yourself. If anyone oughta take the blame, it should be your folks. They coulda done half of this stuff for her in the brief instances they make it home."
Ryoga supposed that was true. In all honesty, his parents should have never even gotten any kind of pet, what with their family affliction. He supposed if he hadn't been such a grouchy kid, his parents wouldn't have been so inclined to get him a companion in an effort to please him. Which brought the blame right back to him again. He was pretty sure he had even asked his parents for a dog, if he strained his brain hard enough to think of his earliest memories.
"Actually, this is more my fault." Ranma said.
That had Ryoga looking up from his glum stare-down with the floor. "What?"
Ranma selected a tool from the kit and knelt back down in front of Shirokuro. Suspecting a struggle from his pet, Ryoga joined Ranma down by Shirokuro's side, giving her shiny, clean coat an appreciative stroke that would also hopefully soothe his pet from the discomfort of having plaque scraped from her teeth. Ranma held Shirokuro's mouth open and got to work picking away at the most offending spots of brown on the dog's sharp teeth.
"I used to check in on her," Ranma explained, "Came around a coupla times after I first went over there and found those letters your parents left you."
Ryoga's eyes widened. He had thought that Ranma only went over to his house just that one time, and after seeing the thick stack of unread letters, it had confirmed Ryoga's fate. Akane's diagnosis was a month after that visit. Ryoga had assumed that everything else had been pushed aside after such news.
"That…means a lot," Ryoga said softly, "Thank you for doing that."
"I didn't do much," Ranma said, face deep in concentration as he went about his work, "Just made sure she was still good for food and water. Would take her for a walk."
"It's still a hell of a lot more than I could do," Ryoga returned, scritching behind Shirokuro's ears. She was sitting pretty good for this tooth descaling, to his surprise. She would pull her head back after a minute or so, causing Ranma to have to reposition and open her mouth again, but didn't give him much trouble otherwise.
"Yeah, well, I didn't keep up on it," Ranma muttered, "And I should've."
"Shirokuro is a smart girl. If she runs out of food or water, she just goes out on her own and knows to go to the neighbours," Ryoga assured him, "A few people in the neighbourhood adopted her puppies, so she visits them often, anyway. So she's always taking herself for her own walks, getting her basic needs met. And mom or dad eventually find their way back to look after her. I'm sure she was still happy to see you and I'm grateful you did what you could for her, but…Akane needed you more."
Ranma did not respond for a time as he finished up with the dental tools and moved back to the sink to wash them off, then squeezed out some of the canine toothpaste onto the brush. It was less of a typical toothbrush and more like a silicone tube that could be slid onto a finger, to allow a bit more control when trying to brush the teeth of a creature who wasn't keen on keeping their mouth open for longer than a couple of seconds at a time.
"Well, she was a good distraction," Ranma said finally as he knelt back down in front of Shirokuro and pried her lower jaw back open so he could stick his brush-adorned finger into her mouth and polish her teeth with the paste. It smelled a bit like the seasoning packet from a chicken-flavoured ramen. Ryoga supposed that it went over better with dogs than peppermint. "And she's a good listener."
Ryoga let out a huff of a laugh through his nose. "Yeah, she is."
This all made Ranma's earlier interactions with Shirokuro make a lot more sense. He could recall how jealous he had been to see someone else have such a bond with his own pet, but if Ranma had been coming by to keep Shirokuro company, and in turn had used her as something to bounce his thoughts off of that couldn't offer anything back but a listening ear, then it sounded like they both got exactly what they had both needed from the other.
The thought of it had a smile tugging at Ryoga's lips, picturing the two of them sitting together, Shirokuro's head in Ranma's lap, the only creature Ranma was able to talk about how he felt with.
He was glad they'd had each other.
They fell into silence as Ranma continued cleaning Shirokuro's teeth, Ryoga offering what assistance he could keeping Shirokuro relaxed with plenty of assuring pets and ear-scratching, and a few instances in holding open her mouth so Ranma could better get at her back teeth.
With Ranma so absorbed in his task, it gave time for Ryoga to observe him without being found out. His hair was quick to dry with how short it was, allowing the true colour of his cursed form's bright, maraschino cherry red hair to start to come through. Ranma's cheeks looked a little fuller while in female form, Ryoga noticed. The different distribution of weight had taken some of the gauntness out of Ranma's face, although his eyes were still rimmed with a tinge of red and saddled with grey.
"I figured you'd spend a bit more time between forms, since you don't have to keep it from me anymore." Ryoga said.
Ranma looked up for a moment, blinking at Ryoga a few times before his brows pinched together slightly and he went back to scrubbing at Shirokuro's teeth. "Why'd you figure that?"
"Well, you just always were kinda…uh, I dunno. Prone to just…being a girl sometimes, I guess." Ryoga said, feeling a bit sheepish. "If you got splashed by accident, you didn't change right back automatically."
"Yeah, well, other than gettin' caught in some bad weather unprepared, I ain't exactly gettin' into situations that'll get me splashed these days." Ranma said. Then he took the toothbrush out of Shirokuro's mouth and gave the dog a pat on the neck. "There ya go, mutt, m'all done torturing you."
Shirokuro's tail thumped against the floor gratefully.
"You used to change yourself on purpose sometimes." Ryoga went on as Ranma rinsed the toothbrush off at the sink, and then washed his hands.
"Yeah, in the summer, maybe," Ranma muttered as he tucked away the dental tools, toothbrush and toothpaste into the cabinet. "I always spend more time as a guy in the winter, if I can help it."
Ryoga supposed that was true. Ranma was looking a little bit bristly talking about this, however, which made it all seem like more of a weak excuse that concealed a deeper truth. But it wouldn't be wise to keep digging when Ranma was clearly uncomfortable with the topic. He had only just gotten back, after all. Better to try his best to stay out from under Ranma's skin.
He decided to move off of the topic slightly, without making it too obvious. "Y'know, that short look actually looks pretty good on you as a girl. You look like you could be an actress or a model. As a guy it just makes you look like any schmuck I'd walk past on the street."
Ranma let out a hard snort as he leaned back against the sink and folded his arms. "I could say the same 'bout you," he replied, "Though it looks like your hair is probably about long enough to wear your bandana again."
"Yeah?" Ryoga said curiously, running a hand through his hair. It had always grown pretty quickly. He had kind of stopped paying attention to its growth after a while, but now that he was aware of it, he could see what Ranma meant. It wasn't quite as long as how he usually wore it, but it wasn't far off. "Maybe I should. That way you can spot me in a crowd if I go wandering off. I kinda need to stand out."
"I like blending in just fine myself," Ranma said, "The short hair helps with not gettin' my ass groped on the subway."
"Really?"
"Well, it still happens, but not as much as before." Ranma said with a shrug.
"Is that why you aren't spending as much time as a girl, then?" Ryoga asked. Whoops, looked like he was back on that line of questioning again. The words had kind of just fallen from his mouth before he could think.
Ranma pushed off from where he leaned his weight against the sink and made his way for the hallway. "Sure, I guess."
If Ranma didn't want Ryoga to batter him with questions, he really ought to get better at getting to the point. Ryoga followed close behind Ranma as they walked down the hallway, Shirokuro following close behind. "There's something you're not telling me," Ryoga said, "Why don't you wanna be in your girl form more?"
"I'm a girl right now, aren't I?" Ranma said pointedly, looking firmly ahead.
"Well, yeah, but only for the second time since I got back. And the first time was by accident, and you changed right back after."
"And I didn't change right back this time, so ain't I doin' what you want? Bein' a girl? Or should I go and throw on a wig and a flirty li'l dress, really put on a show for ya?"
Ranma stormed into the kitchen and pulled open the cabinet where he kept the liquor, and Ryoga froze in the entryway, holding his breath. But Ranma didn't take any notice of the tampering to his stash, plucking out a bottle and then a glass from another cabinet. Ryoga released the breath he had been holding, and walked further into the kitchen.
"Come on, Ranma, you know that's not what I mean." Ryoga said, trying to hide the waver in his tone.
"Well, how am I supposed to take all this badgerin' about somethin' you've told me you've jerked off to?"
Ryoga felt his cheeks and ears prickle with hot shame. "I-It's not about that, either!"
Ranma moved over to the freezer, plucked out a few ice cubes and dropped them into his glass. He moved back to the counter and filled the cup to the rim. "Then why in the hell are you so concerned about whether or not I spend time in this body?"
"Because there's something you aren't telling me," Ryoga repeated, "Come on, Ranma. I don't want to step on any more landmines here, okay? If we can just dig them all up, then I won't blow things up again. This just feels like it's some kind of a sore spot for you, and I wanna know why."
Ranma squinted over the rim of his glass. He took a slow sip of his drink before he replied. "If you think it's such a sore spot, why are you pushing it? Figured you woulda learned your lesson since the last time you tried that."
It was the first time either of them were truly acknowledging the argument that had caused Ryoga to leave, though it was straddling a dangerously fine line bordering on indirect. But screw it, Ryoga thought, he would take what he would get, if this was the closest they would come to addressing it.
"I don't wanna put my foot in my mouth if I can help it," Ryoga said, "If I know what'll set you off, then I'll know what to avoid. I've tried my best to just…learn through observation, up until now. But that isn't cutting it. I just need you to tell me, so I don't have to tiptoe around you constantly."
"I ain't somethin' to tiptoe around." Ranma grumbled.
Ryoga couldn't help the half-exasperated laugh that blurted out of him. "Sorry, Ranma, but you absolutely are. But you won't be such a minefield if you let me in a little."
Ranma stared into his half-empty glass. "This is gonna require both of us to be drinking."
"Fine," Ryoga answered quickly, "But I need to make dinner."
Ryoga would have also reminded Ranma that he was a slow drinker, so Ranma would have to pace himself and not have too many before Ryoga got through his first, but that ship had long sailed.
Ryoga went over to the cabinet and took out one of the liquor bottles, selecting the one he had watered down the most. It kind of stoned two birds; he wouldn't have to drink as much alcohol but it would look like he did, and he could get rid of the evidence of his tampering with Ranma's booze. He selected a glass and filled it with ice, and filled the glass halfway. It was looking a little suspiciously light in colour. Wincing, he filled the glass up to the top. There, that looked a little better.
Once his drink had been made, Ryoga looked around for some inspiration on what to make for dinner. He was feeling pretty ravenous after living off nothing but instant ramen the last few days, and with the strenuous workout he just did his body was craving some extra nourishment. He wanted something warm, rich, and hearty.
And if it was something that would do a good job of soaking up the booze in Ranma's system, that was an added bonus.
He set out some carrots, potatoes, onions, mushrooms, and a box of curry roux cubes. He also pulled out a half-used bag of spicy gyoza from the freezer which would work as a good appetiser. He really couldn't wait for the curry to properly thicken before he ate something, and the gyoza would just take a few minutes to fry.
"You're better with a knife. D'you want to get these veggies diced up while I fry these?" Ryoga offered, holding the bag of gyoza aloft.
Ranma watched Ryoga for a moment and then set down his glass before wordlessly fetching a knife from the drawer and a cutting board. Ryoga stepped around him to get a pan from another cabinet, and then headed for the stove.
"So," Ranma began slowly, washing off his hands at the sink and wiping them dry on a dishcloth. "You remember how I skipped town for a bit after the whole first one hundred days of rites and whatnot?"
Ryoga nodded as he drizzled a bit of oil into the preheating pan. "I do," he said, "Though you never said where you wound up going."
"I kinda went all over," Ranma said, "Never stayed put in any place for long."
"And, um…" Ryoga trailed off quickly, unsure of how to phrase what he wanted to ask. He busied himself for a moment by wetting his fingers under the tap and flicking some droplets into the puddle of oil on the pan. It didn't make a sound. Not ready just yet. "This is when you…tried drugs?"
Ranma huffed slightly through his nose. "I dunno if 'tried' really encapsulates the experience, but sure. That's when it started."
"And…are you, um…are you clean now?" Ryoga asked carefully.
"Only drugs m' on now are what the doc signs for," Ranma muttered, "That day you first came back, when I took ya to see Ukyo? I was headed to a doctor's appointment. Refilling my prescription."
Ryoga had never seen Ranma take any pills. And he had never come across any prescription bottles in the usual places one would expect them to be. "Really? What do you take?"
"Coupla different things, at different times of the day. Anti-this and anti-that. I had to start wearin' this to keep track of the doses." Ranma paused in his task of peeling a carrot to hold up his right arm, showing Ryoga the watch on his wrist. It hung a little looser than usual. Ranma only seemed to notice this when he mentioned the watch, and adjusted the arm band to suit his smaller wrist size before going back to peeling carrots.
Ryoga could recall the watch beeping here and there, and Ranma glancing at it periodically throughout the day. He had wondered what the alarms had been for. How could he have been living under the same roof as Ranma all this time and not seen him take a single pill?
Perhaps it was due to shame; feeling weak for needing assistance from medication in order to function. Maybe like the curse, Ranma had hidden it from Ryoga, but now that the truth was being revealed, he wouldn't feel the need to be secretive about taking his medicine with Ryoga around.
"So, you just came back one day, and stopped the drugs just…cold turkey?" Ryoga inquired.
Ranma began chopping the peeled carrots into even, coin-shaped chunks. "Pretty much," he muttered, "Withdrawal was a real bitch, though."
Ryoga hid his small sigh of relief with the rush of the running tap again as he re-wet his fingers to test the heat of the pan. Sure enough, the droplets let off a hiss as they hit the oil. Ryoga peeled open the reusable seal on the bag of gyoza and started to place them in the pan. "So, what happened?"
Ranma set aside the carrots, pulled out a colander and dropped in several potatoes before moving to the sink to rinse them off. They were standing next to each other now, so Ryoga could see the deep lines puncturing Ranma's brow as he delayed his response.
Ryoga pulled out a set of cooking chopsticks to eventually turn over the gyoza while he waited for Ranma to resume his story, but Ranma was really taking his time patting the potatoes dry one by one.
"It…" Ranma began, but his voice cracked slightly, and he swallowed thickly. He brought the colander back over to the prep counter, but didn't move to begin cutting them. He braced his hands on the edge of the counter instead, bowing his head slightly as he took a long breath. "It ain't good, Ryoga."
Ryoga turned down the heat on the stove and then stepped carefully over to Ranma, not quite entering his space, but hovering just outside of it. "It's okay. I don't…you can tell me, Ranma. And it can stay between us, whatever it is. I swear it."
Ranma rubbed at the bridge of his nose roughly for a moment, then reached across for his glass and took a deep swig. He let out a rough exhale as his mouth parted from the rim of the glass, and set it back down with more force than necessary.
Ryoga's hands hovered in the air in the space between them, unsure of what to do. Longing to comfort, but not knowing how it would be received if he tried. He let his hands drop to his side instead, feeling helpless.
"Here, um, let's trade off for a second. You make sure the gyoza doesn't burn, and I'll cut these." Ryoga offered, stepping in a little closer and reaching for the knife.
Ranma gave a curt nod, and then picked up his glass before he moved over to the stove, picking up the chopsticks to nudge around the dumplings a little to make sure they wouldn't stick to the pan.
Ryoga started chopping the potatoes into halves, then quarters. He got through three potatoes before Ranma spoke up again, his voice barely audible over the crackling oil in the pan he stood over.
"I overdosed."
The next chop Ryoga made dug a little deeper into the cutting board at the confession. He'd had a suspicion that had been the incident that caused Ranma to turn tail for home, but hearing it confirmed out loud still made it feel like his insides were frosting over.
"I'm sorry," Ryoga said quietly, "That must have been really terrifying."
"I don't…remember a lot of it. But I woke up in a hospital, so I guess someone must've taken some pity on me and gotten me admitted while I was blacked out. I woulda been dead for sure, otherwise."
Ranma sounded more bitter than thankful about that.
Ryoga took a steadying breath. "Was it…intentional?"
There was a pause that was a second too long for Ryoga's liking before Ranma answered.
"Not really," Ranma said, "Back then, I just…wanted to get high. I was…panicked. And…disgusted. I just…wanted not to think, even for a little while."
Ryoga pushed aside the last of the chopped potatoes to join the carrots, and then turned around to look at Ranma, who was turning each of the gyoza onto the sides. "What made you feel that way?"
Ranma set down the chopsticks and picked up his glass, finishing off the last of his drink. Ryoga still hadn't even taken a single sip of his own. He reached for his own glass and took a long gulp while Ranma busied himself refilling his own glass. Ryoga was able to down his watered-down booze in two large gulps, and then refilled his own glass as well.
"You're gonna think a lot less of me," Ranma murmured, "Probably plummet right back down to hate like you did before."
"I never hated you. Not really." Ryoga said instantly, "I promise I won't think less of you. Please. It's okay."
Whatever this was, Ranma was deeply ashamed of it. And even worse, he had been carrying that weight all of this time in secret. Ryoga saw no way forward in Ranma starting to heal if he couldn't lay this bare for even just one other person. It was surely too much to carry on his own, if he could hardly even utter the words.
Ranma had closed his eyes. He had one hand clenched into a fist on the countertop, while the other rubbed down the side of his face.
"I…"
Ranma's hand dropped from his face and fell to his side. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked over to meet Ryoga's gaze.
"...I got pregnant."
Ryoga felt like the wind had been knocked out of his lungs. "Oh, Ranma." he breathed, at a loss for what else to say.
"It was like a sick fuckin' joke," Ranma continued, his voice turning dark, "We tried and tried and tried, only for me to get knocked up by someone whose name I never bothered to ask for. Whose face I never even learned well enough to forget. Someone who had just been a means to an end. A quick fuck, a ride, a hit of whatever they had on them…"
"I'm so sorry," Ryoga murmured, "That's…so unfair."
Ranma let out a sharp, short laugh. "Wasn't nothin' I didn't deserve."
"It wasn't."
"It was," Ranma insisted firmly, "It's what I get for betrayin' her."
"You were hurting," Ryoga said, "You weren't in your right mind. Akane wouldn't hold that against you. I'm sure she would be upset to know how much pain you were in, but…she wouldn't resent you for the things that happened to you because of it."
Ranma said nothing, flipping the gyoza onto their opposite sides. Ryoga stayed still for a moment, watching, before he turned back around and started to chop up the mushrooms.
"So, what did you do? About the pregnancy?" Ryoga asked.
"I already told ya," Ranma muttered, "I took a bunch of drugs, almost died, and woke up in the hospital. When I came to, the nurses told me I had miscarried while I was unconscious."
The knife came to stop in Ryoga's hands again, and he turned to look over at Ranma, who was picking out a plate and placing the gyoza onto it in a neat row. Then he went to the fridge and took out a bottle of soy sauce, some sansho chilli sauce, and brought that to the counter. Taking out a small bowl, he mixed the soy sauce and sansho chilli with a bit of sesame oil.
Ranma set the plate of steaming, golden brown gyoza and the bowl of homemade dipping sauce to Ryoga's left, then stepped around to take the knife from Ryoga's hand. "Go on and eat, I'll finish this. You're choppin' 'em all crooked."
Ryoga allowed Ranma to take over the knife, stepping out of the way so he could stand in front of the cutting board and finish dicing up the vegetables.
"I would say I'm sorry, but, I have a feeling you were relieved." Ryoga said.
Ranma shrugged slightly. "Yes and no. I mean, I sure as hell didn't want to have some stranger's kid. But…I feel bad, 'bout the way it happened. I mean, I wasn't tryin' to get rid of it, not like that. I just…wasn't thinkin' straight."
Finished with the mushrooms, Ranma slid the blade across the cutting board to slide the mushrooms into a neat pile alongside the potatoes and carrots.
"How does it feel, to have finally told someone about this?" Ryoga asked.
Ranma let out a thoughtful hum. "Kinda like someone came by with a chisel, and chipped a tiny piece away from the boulder that's been sitting on my chest," he said, "I don't want to tell anyone else about it, though."
"That's okay," Ryoga said automatically, "You don't owe anyone that. Thanks for trusting me with it."
Ranma shot Ryoga a sour look. "I told ya, I don't need you to tiptoe around me," he groused, "I don't need all your niceties and pity. What happened to me was my own damn fault, brought on by my own recklessness. I don't need ya t' coddle me an' pet my hair and try an' make me feel better about it."
"I'm not trying to coddle you," Ryoga assured, "I'm just trying to understand you better, that's all. So, the reason you don't want to spend much time as a girl now is…because of that experience?"
Ranma let out a sigh. "Yeah. I spent about ninety percent of that months-long bender as a girl. Was just easier to get what I wanted that way. So now, it…it just kinda reminds me of that time, bein' in that form."
Ryoga frowned in sympathy. "How many times have you been in girl form since you came back home?"
Ranma had to give it some thought. "Not since that day that we got caught in the storm comin' back from the cemetery."
Ryoga's eyes blew wide. "That long? So it wasn't just you keeping the fact you weren't cured a secret from me?"
Ranma nodded. "Yeah, when you came around, I just kept on doin' what I'd already been doin' to keep from changin' forms."
Ryoga got two pairs of chopsticks from a nearby drawer, setting one aside and taking the others in hand to pluck out one of the gyoza and put it into the sauce Ranma had made before popping it into his mouth whole. The gyoza were full of savoury beef that mixed well with the salty umami of the soy sauce and spice of the sansho chilli oil, and had Ryoga giving an appreciative hum at the taste. He slid the second pair of chopsticks over to Ranma as he finished chewing his bite, a silent coaxing that he hoped wouldn't come across as too obvious of a ploy to see Ranma have some food.
Thankfully his tactic wasn't met with any resistance, as Ranma accepted the offered chopsticks and selected one of the gyoza from the plate. Ryoga picked up a second dumpling and bit it in half to keep himself from smiling.
They made quick work of the gyoza, keeping their mouths preoccupied with chewing for a time. As Ryoga was rinsing the empty plate and bowl of sauce, Ranma spoke up again. "There's some chicken in the fridge that oughta get eaten up. I can make chicken katsu to go with the curry."
"Sounds great," Ryoga said, "I was gonna wash up before I got started on the curry. Did you want to go first, though, so you can change back?"
"Nah, m'fine," Ranma said.
"You sure? I mean, you just told me you don't like being in girl form since—"
"Ryoga," Ranma cut in, "I said I'm fine. Quit stinkin' up the kitchen and go."
The matter settled, Ryoga left Ranma to dinner preparations as he headed back to the furo for a much-needed soak. About forty minutes later, he was walking back into the kitchen in a fresh set of clothes and his nose was met with the decadent smells of rich curry and fried chicken.
The rice cooker was on, with another ten minutes left on its cooking timer. The chicken was already cooked, with two pieces of breaded, crispy chicken waiting on a plate on the counter next to Ranma, who was chopping up some cucumber. When he was finished slicing along the length of the cucumber, he held it aloft and it unfurled into a spiral before he added it to a bowl of other cucumbers which had been cut in the same fashion.
Ryoga approached the counter and looked at the cucumbers in awe. "How the heck did you do that?"
"S'easy," Ranma said as he placed an uncut cucumber on the board. "You cut one side on the diagonal and then flip it over and cut the other side vertically."
"Can I try?"
Ranma handed Ryoga the knife and let Ryoga take his place in front of the cutting board. "The trick is to cut deep enough but not all the way through. So first cut this side on an angle."
Ryoga did so, making sure he didn't cut the cucumber all of the way through. "Why are you chopping these up all fancy anyway?"
"I'm making a salad," Ranma explained, "When it's cut like this, it holds the dressing better. Alright, now flip it over and cut it like you usually would, still without goin' all the way through."
Ryoga turned over the cucumber and began to cut it vertically, but only managed a few cuts before the knife went through completely. "Shit, it's harder on the opposite side with the cuts already made on the other end."
Ryoga picked up the half of the cucumber he had managed to put both diagonal and vertical slices through, but it did not unfurl into a spiral the way Ranma's had, and he frowned in disappointment.
"Try with the other piece." Ranma told him.
Ryoga set aside his failure chunk, and tried again with the piece still half-cut. He didn't cut through all the way that time, but when he picked up the cucumber, it only slightly separated. It didn't have quite the same effect with a stubbier piece.
"First one is always a mulligan. Like making pancakes." Ranma assured, "Try it again."
"Yours were a lot prettier," Ryoga said, "I don't wanna fuck up your salad."
"Alright, shove over then, ya quitter." Ranma stepped over and bumped Ryoga on the hip with his own, but with their current height difference he moreso hit Ryoga on the upper thigh.
Ryoga snickered under his breath and stood aside, letting Ranma take back the knife. Ranma grabbed the final uncut cucumber and set it up on the cutting board.
"Ah, hang on," Ryoga said, as he reached across to pick up his two failed attempts at spiralling the cucumber. "Let me get rid of these ugly ones, we won't—"
But Ranma had started cutting into the cucumber, and when Ryoga reached across, his hand got in the way before Ranma could react and pull back the blade, and the tip of the knife caught the slide of Ryoga's index finger.
Ryoga pulled his hand back quickly, sucking a quick breath through his teeth as a sharp stinging pain spread through his finger. He grabbed the digit with his other hand instinctively.
"Shit, sorry," Ranma said, "I didn't get ya too deep, did I?"
"God, don't apologise. This was very much my own fault," Ryoga said, laughing sheepishly through the pain, "I shouldn't have reached across, that was stupid."
"Yeah, it was," Ranma agreed, "Here, let's see it."
He set down the knife and turned to face Ranma, pulling his hand away to inspect the wound. It was bleeding pretty good, but fingers usually did, so it didn't throw up any alarm bells for Ryoga to see it. It looked like a pretty superficial knick to the top layer of skin. It stung like a bitch, though.
Ranma clicked his tongue sympathetically. "Yowch. Well, it won't need stitches, at least. I've had about all the emergency hospital visits I can stand today."
"Same here," Ryoga said, "I think I'll live."
"You're quite the bleeder."
Suddenly, Ranma brought Ryoga's hand up and stuck the side of Ryoga's finger between his lips. Ryoga's eyes popped open, and he felt his body jolt so hard he might have put his head through the ceiling if he didn't also feel rooted to the spot. He felt the wet heat of Ranma's tongue against his skin, and a shiver shot up his spine.
"R-Ranma!"
Ranma pulled away, leaving behind a shiny patch of skin wet with saliva that had been cleaned of blood, revealing a thin red cut.
"Hold tight, I got a bandage 'round here somewhere." Ranma said, pulling open a drawer and finding a stash of loose bandages.
Ranma pulled off the paper wrapping from the bandage and the backings from the adhesive spots. When Ryoga didn't offer up his hand on his own, Ranma took him by the wrist to hold his arm aloft so Ranma could wrap the bandage around his finger.
"There, now ya won't bleed t' death."
Just then, the song on the rice cooker went off, signalling the rice was finished cooking. Ranma tossed out the packaging from the bandage and then went over to the pot of curry bubbling away on the stove to give it a stir. Then he took the plate with the two pieces of katsu chicken and brought them to the cutting board.
"Alright, steer clear this time," Ranma said as he started to chop the first piece of chicken into long strips. "Don't need ya bleedin' all over the food."
Ryoga made sure to stay out of the knife's way, busying himself instead with stirring up the dressing sitting in the bottom of the bowl Ranma had put the spiralled cucumbers into. His finger was tingling, and he was sure it was not from any blood loss, since much of the rest of him tingled in the same fashion.
His heart was pounding erratically in his chest, and showed no signs of slowing down; not when the memory of Ranma's lips on his skin was being burned into his mind.
