Despite his stupid old man, Ranma somehow made it back to the training grounds on time. Well, almost. It looked like one of the practice fights had already wrapped up, but since it wasn't Akane's, he didn't care.
Anyway, it wasn't hard to figure out who had won.
The hidden weapons dude was sobbing at the base of a training post, and on his way here, Ranma had seen the third opponent soaring overhead. Which left the girl. She was leaning over the pathetic excuse for a warrior, until finally, fed up with his blubbering, she hit him over the head.
"You stop now! You never beat Shampoo anyway, stupid Mousse!"
"But this was my chance," he wailed, banging his head against the post now.
The whole exchange was extra pathetic and confusing. Chance for what?
"Geez, about time you showed up!"
Tearing his gaze away from the field, Ranma glanced at his sister. "Got sidetracked," he muttered, but then was immediately distracted by the familiar blade lying by her side. "Uh, what's with the sword?"
And by that, he meant: What the hell are you doing with it? Aside from the obvious, it looked huge next to someone so small. He doubted she could even lift it.
But Ranko grinned widely as if happy he'd asked. "I was promised a cool technique, remember?" She said, petting the weapon creepily as if it were a pet. "This here's the sacrifice."
"Sacrifice?" Ranma repeated, incredulous, staring at her like she'd gone nuts. "You DO realize that's a priceless antique from the war room, right? If our old man finds out you even touched it, he'll kill you."
His crazy, fearless sister merely scoffed.
"Don't worry, he'd have to catch me first, and with how his diet's been going lately, let's just say, I like my chances."
Man, was she dumb.
Their old man could be fast when he wanted to be. Ranma had seen him wake from a midday nap, dead asleep, then dive for ten yen after hearing someone drop it. "Sure, he may have put on a few pounds—" At her droll look, Ranma rolled his eyes and corrected himself. "Okay, many pounds. But he can still move."
"Maybe. But not as fast as me," she bragged.
That's when Ranma guessed he was going to be an only child soon."Okay," he drawled, making it clear he didn't believe her.
"Anyway," she continued, "I doubt he'll even notice it's gone. And when he does, I'll just hide behind Mom until he stops looking for me. No biggie."
Oh, he'd notice, alright, and their mother could only protect the dimwit for so long.
"Yeah, well, good luck with that," he told her, giving up. Since he'd done all he could on that score, he turned his attention back to the field where Ryu Kumon was busy going over the rules for the fight. Akane stood listening, looking proud and confident and cute as hell in shades of burgundy and gold, the colors of Wistalia. There was even a dragon in flight emblazoned on her left arm—the emblem of their country—and Ranma felt a strange swelling of pride at the sight of it there.
Of course, they were all wearing it, but only the sight of Akane in his colors affected him so strongly.
He couldn't wait to see her in action.
The longer he watched her, though, the more nervous he became. Akane nodded along to everything Ryu said, focused and at ease.
Too much at ease, actually.
Ranma knew how crazy and competitive these matches could get.
So an unexpected wave of worry and fear gripped him as he watched her, as he realized she didn't look nearly as anxious or on guard as she ought to be. This battle was going to be intense. And sure, she could handle a sword like no one's business, but Ranma had never seen her in an actual melee before.
What if she was disarmed? Could she even fight without a weapon?
"Like we said before," Ryu continued, acting like an obnoxious big shot. "There are no rules, so anything goes. Eliminate your competition by forcing them out of the ring. Or step out yourself like that dumbass over there," he added, pointing towards the guy who was still crying. "Either way, the last one standing wins. The fight commences on the count of three."
Ranma found himself unconsciously leaning forward, nervous but mostly excited to watch Akane do her thing.
But as soon as the countdown began, he found his view blocked by the other female fighter who'd moved on from her friend—the one with the funny name.
Was it Conditioner? Hairspray? Perfume? He couldn't remember.
"Nihao!" She greeted cheerfully, her smile bright. "Shampoo so so happy Prince make visit this morning!"
Oh, so her name was Shampoo. Heh, he'd been close.
"Uh, thanks," Ranma told her, even as he craned his neck, attempting to look behind her. "But could you maybe move?"
"Shampoo love to," she tittered as she settled down beside him, taking his comment as an invitation to join him. Clearly, her Japanese wasn't the greatest. And neither was her need for personal space because the next thing he knew, she'd wrapped her hand around his arm and snuggled against it.
Uncomfortable, Ranma froze.
Her grip was like iron.
"Err," he frowned as he subtly tried to pull away.
If experience had taught him anything, it was that rejection sometimes made things worse—just look at Kodachi. Still, he wasn't above trying if necessary. It wasn't a great look to have another girl hanging all over him when he had finally set his sights on Akane.
What if the dummy saw?
Thankfully, his twin was much quicker to react than he was.
"Are you mental? He didn't mean for you to STAY," Ranko snapped and pulled on the girl's arm, trying to dislodge it.
Like Kodachi, Shampoo wasn't one to be deterred easily. She held on for dear life. "Spoiled Princess!" She snapped, clinging harder. "Brat mind own business!"
With no other choice, Ranma decided to ignore them. At least with all the jostling, he could finally see the field again. And it looked like the fight was already in full swing. However, for some reason, Akane was staring in HIS direction, not at the two guys barreling toward her.
Ranma's heart practically leaped out of his chest at the sight; it wasn't like her to be so careless. "Eyes front, stupid!" he yelled as all eyes turned to look in his direction.
But the tomboy heard him.
She shook her head as if forcing herself out of whatever funk she'd been in and swiftly shifted her attention back to her opponents.
It was a good thing, too. Konatsu had been gunning for her.
But his sister seemed more interested in nettling their uninvited guest than in watching the match. "Aren't you needed elsewhere?" She asked, her voice so loud, it was impossible to ignore. "I bet Mousse's heart could use another good stomping!"
As Ukyo snickered, the other girl's smile noticeably tightened, but instead of getting angry, she just sidled up closer to him, leaning further against his side. "Shampoo love chance fighting Prince," she told him, voice low, body warm against his own. "Peoples saying Prince Ranma stronger even than General Herbs. . ."
At the unexpected praise, Ranma's chest proudly puffed up.
"Well yeah," he confirmed, because it was true. Fighting was in his blood. If he hadn't been born into royalty and destined to rule the kingdom, he could've been Grand Admiral of the imperial army someday.
"Wow," Shampoo enthused, clearly impressed. "Girl marrying Ranma very, very lucky girl, yes?" Then she very slowly ran her hand up Ranma's arm in what was definitely a caress.
Ranma swallowed uncomfortably. "I mean, yeah, she wouldn't be unlucky," he told her as he tried to subtly shift away again. He wasn't having much luck. If he didn't know any better, he'd say she was using some secret technique to keep him there.
And then, in the distance, he thought he heard a twig snap.
"How's about you watch the fight rather than feeling up my brother, hmm?" Ranko said as she crossed her arms across her chest. "In case you can't read the room, he's not interested."
"It is pretty obvious," Ukyo added casually, though her eyes were still firmly on the match.
Out of all of them, Ranma thought she had the right idea. With difficulty, he vowed to ignore the squabbling girls as he looked back towards the field, irritated that he'd already missed a good chunk of the fight—what if Akane had already been eliminated?
After a glance, he knew it was silly to have worried.
His girl was tearing up the field with a ferocity that was damn near terrifying. Hell, if there'd been a stampede of boys gunning for her, she would've easily trampled them all. The tomboy made weaving between the two fighters look effortless.
Effortless, but. . .
"Uh, where's her sword?" Ranma asked, surprised to find it was missing. She'd had it when Ryu explained all the rules earlier.
"Ha! That got tossed right away," Ryoga told him, the only one who had watched faithfully from the start. "Was probably slowing her down."
Ranma's eyes widened.
It made sense in this kind of fight where mobility was key, but he wasn't sure how confident she'd be in hand-to-hand combat.
(Pretty confident, apparently)
He felt like an idiot. He'd assumed weapons were her specialty, yet here she was, choosing to fight without one.
Would she ever stop surprising him?
"Looks like it's for the best," Ryoga went on, stating the obvious right as Akane narrowly avoided a blow from Shinnosuke's broken broom and then dodged one of Konatsu's follow-up jabs—a quick strike aimed right for her gut.
Ranma swore he lost a year of his life watching her skirt danger. And yet, he'd never felt prouder. If those jerks thought they'd found an easy mark, they were wrong.
"Looks like," he agreed, pleased, even though Akane wasn't empty-handed after all. He noticed it right after—a small, jagged piece of Shinnosuke's broom in her hand. She was using it to cleverly bat aside Konatsu's ninja stars every time he hurled one at her.
It hit him then—that must've been the weird sound he'd heard! A broom being snapped.
Ranma chuckled. Seriously, was there anything the tomboy wouldn't break?!
As he leaned forward, ready to fully immerse himself in their fight—he froze. Warm breath tickled his ear, and he pulled back to find Shampoo had leaned fully into him while he'd been distracted, every part of her too close for comfort.
And she wasn't even watching the fight.
"Prince want see real battle? Should tackle Shampoo sometime. . ."
"Uh, no thanks," he muttered, getting seriously annoyed now as he tried to dislodge her for the third damn time. Just like Kodachi or some octopi, this girl would not let go.
Which is when a broken piece of wood came flying at his head.
Moving instinctively, Ranma barely managed to get out of the way in time.
"What the hell?" he yelled, still half-reclined as he slowly sat up, eyes dark with confusion. He barely noticed how Shampoo had fallen or how her body was draped scandalously across his own now.
But someone noticed.
Akane was standing as close to them as she could get, hands planted firmly on her hips, glaring. "Honestly!" She yelled, looking incensed. "Why don't the two of you just GET A ROOM already?!"
"Wha—?" Ranma uttered as Shampoo took that opportunity to squeak in mock fright and cuddle up closer to him.
"Aiya! Shampoo so, so scared."
Ryoga scoffed. "Of what?"
"Don't you ever quit?!" Ranko demanded as she grabbed the other girl around the waist and using a sloppy-style tackle he'd taught her years ago, pulled her away.
But Ranma's gaze never left Akane's.
Before he could defend himself, though, or better yet, remind her that she was still in the middle of a fight, Shinnosuke used the distraction to move in behind her, then gave her a light shove that sent her stumbling forward, right past a flag, and out of the ring.
A shocked gasp stole his breath.
"I'm sorry," Shinnosuke told her, entirely sincere as he turned his attention back to Konatsu, to the fight still happening behind her.
Even with the apology, it took the dummy a second to realize what had happened. Looking lost, Akane stared back at the battleground. Her earlier anger had drained away, leaving shock and denial simmering in its place.
With her defenses down, she was easy to read.
"Ouch," Ranko said, shuddering in sympathy. "That had to hurt."
"I'll say," echoed Ukyo as Shampoo finally escaped from Ranko's chokehold.
Now that he was free too, Ranma wasted no time in springing to his feet, determined to make it to Akane before she had a mental breakdown or worse, started crying.
Thankfully, his sister was only two steps behind. Ranko was so much better at all that emotional junk . . . and he suspected they were gonna need it.
Even when they reached her, the tomboy stood in the same place, dazed and bewildered, like she'd just awoken from a dream.
Or a nightmare.
Mindful that there was still a fight—though arguably a less exciting one now that Akane was out—Ranma grabbed her arm as soon as he reached her and pulled her further off to the side, hoping to avoid any projectiles flying their way.
(The fact that she allowed that was troubling enough.)
"You okay, Akane?" Ranko asked, not afraid to jump right in. "Cause if I were you, I'd be mortified."
Ranma glared at her.
Maybe he'd given her too much credit after all.
"Real helpful," he muttered and then leaned down to wave a hand in Akane's face just to see if she was still conscious. It was such a shitty way to go; he wouldn't be surprised if she'd fainted from the shock.
She batted his hand away.
"I'm fine," Akane grumbled, cheeks red with embarrassment even as the sounds of Shinnosuke and Konatsu battling for supremacy continued behind her.
"Oh good," Ranko said, sighing in relief. "Then our work here is done."
Ranma stared at her like she was an idiot. "Ignore her," he said sternly to Akane. "Trust me, everyone does."
Ranko scoffed. "That's not true. People say I'm a treasure!"
"You're something alright."
"Ha! That's rich coming from you. You're nothing but an obnoxious killjoy!"
"Funny, cause there's only one thing I wanna kill at the moment. . ."
All their silly bickering was good for something, at least—it finally managed to wangle a smile out of Akane. It was a small one, practically nonexistent, really, but it was there, and that was a start.
"Come on, let's go sit with the others," he told the tomboy as he grabbed her hand and led her back to where they'd been sitting. Again, Akane went along willingly enough—although with every step, her head remained turned, her eyes longingly lingering on the field behind them.
"Geez, it's not the end of the world," Ranko said, waving a hand. "You have all the time in the world to pound them later, Akane. Don't worry so much."
"Right," Ranma agreed. "This was only one training exercise and a lame one at that. There's gonna be plenty more."
"Besides," his sister continued. "It's not like you're a failure or anything. I mean, yeah, sure, technically you failed. But anyone would get angry watching the love of their life being pawed at by some heartless hussy!"
Before he could protest, Shampoo, of all people, beat him to it.
"Stupid Princess. Shampoo no is hussy!"
"Or heartless!" Mousse fired back, having made it to her side at last.
Akane, blushing profusely, must have felt the need to speak up too. "A-and he's not the love of my life!" She insisted, more awkward than angry.
Which was a start. He could work with that.
He had a month.
"Well. I happen to know you're ALL wrong. But don't take it too hard," Ranko added with a casual flip of her wrist. "Trust me, being right all the time is exhausting."
"Wow. It takes talent to be that deluded," Ryoga whispered to Ukyo, who snickered.
"I'm not deluded," Ranko replied as she fluttered her eyelashes coyly and rested her face in her palms, trying to look cute. "It's not MY fault perfection came in such a small and cute little package!"
Akane and the others all groaned in disgust, though really, Ranma knew the dork was only trying to cheer the tomboy up by distracting her.
And it was working.
Akane already seemed heaps better. She was smiling again and even stopped staring at the field like a sad, dejected puppy.
And now that she was calmer, he could admit that it was cute how hard she'd taken her elimination. It was only a silly training exercise—one of many—but she acted like it had been a battle between life and death.
It made him even more curious and more determined to learn about her life. He had so many questions. Was the dork always so competitive? If so, why? Pride? Guilt? Was it in her nature? Or did something make her that way? Her childhood? Her family?
And more importantly, why had they let her set off alone? Why had she been wandering the dangerous countryside in the first place?
Was it really all because of Kuno?
With all those questions taunting him, Ranma couldn't help but glance at her more closely, the need to ask, to know everything about her, nearly overpowering what good sense he had. He didn't want to scare her away or have her shut down completely. Luckily, every time he opened his mouth to ask, Akane would smile at something Ukyo or Ranko said, and all those questions on his mind would vanish.
Man, was she cute.
Her radiant face overwhelmed everything else. Again, his eyes naturally fell to her lips, bringing with them memories of last night—and like all those times before, Ranma couldn't tear his eyes away.
What would it be like to kiss her when she was sober?
Of course, nothing brought him back to his senses quicker than that.
Feeling like some kinda pervert, Ranma carefully cleared his throat and turned to look straight ahead, back to the field and the battle unfolding before them . . . only to realize, belatedly, that it was all over. While he'd been busy watching Akane, Shinnosuke had been thrown past a flag, and now his broken broom lay on the hard ground beside him.
And a good thing too. He deserved it after ousting Akane. But although Konatsu had won, nobody was talking about it.
Shampoo and his sister were still busy nettling each other, locked in a lame spar of their own. Even Ryoga and Ukyo seemed more interested in watching them go at it (with commentary) than in the match's outcome. And Akane had somehow been relegated to referee.
She wasn't smiling anymore.
"Will you two knock it off already?" she yelled, standing between them as if she feared they might start throwing hands. "Honestly! You're acting like children!"
Like children, they refused to listen.
Shampoo humphed. "Spoiled princess-brat jealous of Shampoo. Is obvious, yes?"
"Ha! You wish!" Ranko laughed as she pointed dramatically at her adversary. "Why would I ever be jealous of you? I've got more class in my pinky finger than you do in that entire brainless head of yours!"
"Shampoo isn't brainless!" Mousse argued, jumping to her defense without hesitation.
"Neither of them are brainless," Akane assured him, still in mediator mode. "They're just ridiculous, that's all."
"The only ridiculous one here is her," Ranko insisted as she nodded in Shampoo's direction. "SHE'S the one throwing herself at a married man!"
"Not married," Ranma reminded her dryly.
"Well, practically!" She amended and then narrowed her blue eyes in warning at the harlot. "Just so you know, Shampoo, I've already chosen my future sister-in-law, and it ain't you!"
"Oh? And who would that be?" Ukyo asked with a knowing, mischievous grin.
"Yeah, who?" Ryoga parroted because he honestly didn't know.
Ranko rolled her eyes as if the answer were obvious. "This dork right here!" She told them as she possessively grabbed Akane's arm and pulled her to her side. "She'll be joining the family soon. Just you watch!"
Ranma almost fell over at that declaration and Akane wasn't doing much better. She was gaping like a drunken fish and turning scarlet.
"N-no!" she managed as she frantically waved her arms. "She's joking. I'm not engaged! To anyone! Not ever. Honest!"
"Yeah, yeah," Ranko told her as she patted her shoulder, humoring her. Then, she turned back to her enemy who was glaring like she wanted to gut her. "See, my dumb bother's not interested, k? So take a hike!"
"Shampoo no take hike! Silly-princess and pervert-girl be ones taking hike!"
"Excuse me?" Akane demanded. "What do you mean, pervert-girl?"
Ranma kept quiet as the three of them faced off.
He had no clue why or how he'd been dragged into this debate, but yeah, his sister was right. He had zero interest in Shampoo, even if he could admit, objectively, that sure, she was cute. Not as cute as Akane, but he wasn't blind. Maybe he just had a thing for short-haired chicks with swords? Who knew?
It was just too bad Akane wasn't as affectionate or as forward as Shampoo. It'd be nice to know for sure if he stood a chance.
"Well. If you lame-os are done rioting over there, it's time for a real fight!" Pantyhose Taro announced, now standing in the middle of the field. "Time to show me what you've got, Blue!" He motioned to Shampoo, who shot a dirty look in his direction as she hopped to her feet.
"Shampoo not blue!" She protested and then looked down at her body to double-check.
"I think he means your hair, hon."
"Oh, fine," Pantyhose replied lazily. "I'll call you Hair-wash instead. Happy?"
"Aiya! Insufferable man!" But then Shampoo turned to glare at Ranko one last time. "Shampoo wipe floor with General, then wipe floor with Wimpy Princess. Just you waiting!"
Ranko scoffed. "After Panty-butt gets through with you—"
"I TOLD you to stop calling me that!"
"—I doubt you'll be able tostandmuch less run your mouth. But yeah, sure. Can't wait," Ranko told her.
"Princess eating soon own words."
"Are you guys going to fight or what?" Ryu yelled, rubbing his head and his lingering hangover. "SOME of us wanna go home and pass the fuck out."
"Sorry!" Ranko saluted him in the most obnoxious way possible, then turned to bow at Pantyhose. "Please, General Panty-twist. Don't hold back on my account. Let Hair-care have it!"
"Why, you—!" "Stupid Princess!"
"Would you quit it!" Akane hissed, trying to reel the moron in.
Not for the first time, Ranma was grateful his sister was royalty. If she wasn't, she would've been dead ten times over by now.
Then again, nothing was holding the king back. After another glance at her stolen sword, Ranma couldn't help but wonder if their old man might make their dream come true after all.
For now, though, he turned back to the fight that was brewing in front of him.
Pantyhose Taro versus Shampoo.
Well, this was either gonna be a total shit show or a laugh and a half—Pantyhose never held back, especially against girls, so if he lost, he'd never hear the end of it.
And if he won, well, hopefully, he didn't make the poor girl cry too badly.
Shampoo didn't seem like the crying type, but you never could tell. . .
Lying down on his side, Ranma propped his head on his palm and turned to face the field. Excited for the match.
It was nice to have a distraction.
For a few minutes at least, he was determined not to look, think, or even acknowledge the tomboy. Hopefully, he'd be too busy watching the match to be tortured by her smile, scent, and laughter. Or the memory of her lips sliding against his own.
Damn, he was already failing.
And to make matters worse, seconds later, the tomboy went and sat down next to him. And instantly, all of Ranma's senses were reattuned to her.
Dammit! Would the universe ever stop screwing him over?!
"I don't know about you guys," Ranko said, sitting down beside Akane, "but I seriously hope that Pantyhose trounces the little harlot!"
Akane laughed, which made her whole face light up. Unfairly. "Are you that afraid to face her yourself?" she teased as she carefully set down her sword, the same one she'd abandoned during the fight.
Ranma glanced at it, wondering if someone had retrieved it for her while he'd been distracted; he hadn't seen her grab it herself.
Could it be that suck-up with the broom?
He hoped not. The last thing he wanted to deal with was competition. Sure, he could trounce anyone in a battle, even of the romantic sort.
But he was on a time limit, dammit!
"Seriously, 'Sug. Why are you so obsessed with your brother's love life anyway?" Ukyo asked, genuinely curious as she quirked a brow. "You gotta know it's a bit creepy, right?"
Ranko shrugged as if to say she knew but didn't care. "I have my reasons," she told her, strangely evasive. And then in an obvious bid to change the subject, asked: "Do you think Shampoo will cry when she loses?"
"She won't lose. She's not careless like the lot of you," Mousse replied, with a certainty that would've been impressive if it weren't so wrong. Ranma may have enjoyed giving them grief, but the truth was, not everyone could call themselves a Wistalian general.
Her chances of winning were zero.
Even drunk and hungover, Pantyhose was unbelievably strong. And unlike Ranma or Ryu, he wouldn't hold back against a girl.
Ranko knew that too. "Guess that means you're blind in quite a few ways then, huh?" She replied, her bottom lip quivering. "That's so sad."
Mousse raised his head higher as if her taunts couldn't reach him. "How banal. Eyes aren't the only means of sight," he told her, quickly proving he was the better person by disengaging. He looked back to the field, dismissing her.
As his sister pouted, Ranma decided the other boy had the right idea after all and shifted his attention back to the match again.
He didn't want to think about anything anymore. Not marriage, or time limits, or rivals. All he wanted to do was watch a couple of dumb jerks battling it out.
Was that so wrong?
In the complicated world that was his life, fighting was one of the few things Ranma understood.
Fighting made sense.
If only love were so easy.
…
Akane pushed her disappointment aside and tried to concentrate on the match unfolding before her. There was nothing quite as thrilling as an old-fashioned duel, so after the two combatants bowed to each other and began, she couldn't look away.
Not a single second was wasted as they leaped at each other.
It was annoying, honestly, how good Shampoo was. Not only was she managing to land some painful-looking hits on the seasoned fighter after lasting longer than she had, but she moved with a grace Akane couldn't help but envy. It was everything she'd wanted her own match to be. Fierce, thrilling, efficient. With a few clever maneuvers she was already attempting to commit to memory.
But the Generals of Wistalia were famous for a reason.
General Awesome was toying with her.
"Stop messing around," Ryu complained from the sidelines as he cleaned an ear with his finger. "Finish her already."
Sure enough, Taro's strength and speed proved too much to handle. In the next few seconds, he caught Shampoo off guard with a surprise sidestep, and then the General rounded on her, flung her from the ring and past a flag faster than they could all blink.
It was over in an instant.
Even though that wasn't even the most memorable part. . .
Once Shampoo managed to pick herself back up, she headed straight for the General, walking with long, purposeful strides across the field, the look on her face screamed resignation.
Or possibly murder.
But at her approach, the General crossed his arms across his chest, radiating arrogance as he mockingly asked, "What? You wanna cry about it?"
And that's when Shampoo kissed him.
It wasn't a peck or a friendly smooch, oh no, it was right on the lips, in front of everyone, and Shampoo grabbed his shirt as he stood there, shell-shocked, easily holding him in place.
The entire training field went silent.
Eventually, the sound of Mousse's broken wails and haunted gasps of "No!" started filling the empty space, shattering the deadly calm that had settled over the grounds.
"Whao!" Said Ranko, just as confused as everyone else as she clapped Ranma on the back and said, "Sorry, bro. Looks like she's moved on."
"Damn. I'm gutted."
Mousse sure was. They were still kissing.
"So Ryu," said Ryoga, glancing over at the other General with a teasing glint in his eyes. If he was closer, he would've ribbed his side. "Bet you wish you'd fought her instead of Taro, huh?"
Unsurprisingly, the General scrunched up his nose, looking horrified by the very thought. "You're kidding, right? I'd sooner have all my teeth yanked out and my head shaved than kiss some lunatic! I dodged a fucking bullet." Akane couldn't help feeling self-conscious—isn't that what she had done?
"More like a grenade," Ranko replied as Ukyo leaned towards Ranma, her voice pitched low.
"And you're sure you got rid of ALL the alcohol?" She asked him, although Akane heard her perfectly well, and the reminder made her face flush hot. A quick, covert glance at Ranma revealed his face was just as red—in fact, it was blazing.
"Yup," he confirmed stiffly, eyes straight ahead as if he were taking pains not to look at her.
To Akane, it was like a kick to the gut, like the memory alone disgusted him.
Was she no better than Shampoo?!
"Sorry," she mumbled again, feeling guilty and embarrassed. "I'll never touch another drink for as long as I live. . ."
"Hey. You needn't gothatfar," Ranma told her, giving her the side eye. "I mean . . . maybe only drink around people you actuallywannakiss?"
Ranko nudged him in the side, a too-big grin on her face as she teased: "Oooh? You mean like you?"
"Course not," he mumbled back, blushing even harder, and Akane almost expected him to say,Why would I want to kiss a tomboy like her?
But he didn't.
And for some reason that made her heart stupidly race, and everything felt warm.
Which was the wake-up call she needed.
Thinking like that was too dangerous, stupid, and selfish, like something she definitely shouldn't want. She couldn't afford to hope. Hope got people killed!
So Akane steeled herself and made a promise then and there.
Moving forward, she'd never lose her head over Ranma Saotome again (or any other boy, for that matter). She was on a mission, and it was time to devote herself to it, body and soul.
And how hard could it be, anyway?
Honestly, Ranma was just a friend and nothing more. So what if he had terrible taste and wanted to flirt with Shampoo and let her hang all over him?! That was just fine by her. It's not like she had any claim on him anyway—the original engagement had been called off when Akane and her sisters had been officially declared dead.
So nope. No feelings on her end.
Defeating her stepmother and avenging her family was so much more important than whatever it was she was feeling for Ranma.
(Friendship. It was friendship.)
Maybe a little gratitude and nostalgia too, but nothing romantic. She wasn't crazy. She was ninety-nine percent sure that's why she'd been so possessive over him in the first place.
It must've been a pathetic attempt to cling to her past. It wasn't jealousy.
(Ranma was safe and familiar, that's all.)
And if she only told herself that enough times, eventually, she might start to believe it too.
"You okay?" Ranko asked as she leaned over, her blue eyes wide. "Look at you! I've never seen someone so red."
"I'm fine," Akane muttered, mortified, as she pushed her friend out of her personal space, all while doing her best not to look at Ranma.
It wasn't out of fear, mind you.
It was self-preservation, if anything.
"Uh-huh. Sure," Ranko replied, making it no secret she didn't believe her.
But thankfully, she didn't have a chance to call her out on it again because Shampoo chose that very moment to finally come up for air, ending that ridiculously long kiss.
And the onlookers weren't the only ones relieved.
As soon as it was over, General Awesome pushed the other girl far, far away, his hand scrubbing furiously at his mouth as he took two GIANT steps way back.
But even then, Shampoo didn't seem ashamed in the slightest. She stared up at the General with stars in her eyes and cooed adoringly: "Wo de airen."
Then, she tried to approach closer, only to find her path firmly blocked as Pantyhose grabbed her shoulders and physically stopped her.
"Look, I know I'm a stud and all," he told her, holding her at arm's length. "But no matter how insanely attracted to me you are, and believe me, I get it—whowouldn'twant a piece of Awesome? I'm just not into you, Hair-wash."
"See, Akane," Ranko whispered with an amused snort. "It can always be worse. At least losing didn't make you insane!"
"True," she whispered back, glad she was only guilty of kissing Ukyo, Shampoo, and Ranma last night. At least she hadn't violated a General! However, a snide voice in her head reminded her that, yeah, Akane, you only assaulted a Prince (a voice she chose to ignore).
"Well. To be fair, you have to be a tad on the loony side to go into this line of work," Ukyo added thoughtfully. "Only the truly depraved, like me and Ryoga here, would happily choose to get beaten for a living."
"Or deal with Ranma," Ryoga added.
"Hey!" The prince protested.
"Welcome to the family," Ukyo told her, extra cheery.
"Happy to have you, sis," Ranko added as she clapped Akane on the back.
Akane opened her mouth to correct her again but was distracted by the sight of Mousse staggering onto the field, his long white robe billowing out dramatically behind him as he stumbled towards the pair.
"Ohhh, how romantic!" Konatsu trilled, clapping his hands together excitedly. "He's going to duel for her love! It's just like a fairytale!"
Ranma scoffed. "Let's just hope the ending isn't a bloody one," he replied, much less enraptured by the scene.
Akane completely agreed. Like Ranma, her very good friend, she feared this confrontation wouldn't end well.
"Please, Shampoo! You needn't do this!" Mousse pleaded, his arms outstretched in the wrong direction, glasses askew. "This wasn't part of the—" His plea was abruptly cut short by a sharp rap to his skull, courtesy of Shampoo's unforgiving fist.
"Stupid Mousse. Butt out!"
"Ryu, you're up," General Awesome declared as he abruptly left the field, completely ignoring Shampoo and Mousse and the drama happening behind him.
At that moment, Mousse was clutching her leg, begging her not to go.
It was all quite sad, actually. He continued to crawl after her, still bawling, while Shampoo cheerfully followed the General, finally clearing the field for the next fight.
"Oh foo. That wasn't romantic at all," Konatsu complained as he sobbed pitifully into a handkerchief.
"I don't know about you guys," said Ryoga, chuckling. "But I doubt Ryu can top that."
"I don't think he'd want to," Ukyo argued with a sniff.
They were right.
The first thing General Ryu did when he took to the field was point a finger imposingly at Konatsu (who was still sniffling) his hazel eyes narrowed in warning. "Before we begin, let me make one thing clear," he declared, loud enough for everyone present to hear. "If you kiss me after I'm done kicking your ass, you're dead. Got it, ninja-boy?"
"I would never!" Konatsu gasped, still clutching his handkerchief. And from the way he had innocently reared back in panic, like some blushing maiden, had her wondering if maybe he'd never been kissed before.
"Great! Then let's get this over with."
To the surprise of no one, this match was much less exciting than the first.
It turns out that the "secret" art of ninjutsu paled in comparison to the not-so-secret art of brute strength. As soon as Ukyo had finished the countdown, the General didn't give Konatsu time to do anything. Before he even had a chance to defend, Ryu Kumon had launched himself at the recruit, looking fierce in his battle fatigues as he quickly locked his arms around him in a painful-looking hug, squeezed tightly, and then hurled him through the air.
Akane watched as her new friend flew right past a flag in one mind-blowing move. It was quite painful to watch; she cringed more than once.
And for a moment, Akane was relieved that she hadn't won her match. She doubted she was ready for such an intense thrashing. Her sword couldn't have prevented that!
Again, her confidence took a terrifying nose dive. She felt a little sick.
Hinako was stronger than every person here, and yet she hadn't managed to beat some of the weakest among them!
"Great! Now that that farce is finally over, we can get to the MAIN event," Ranko announced as she excitedly climbed to her feet, oblivious to her friend's quiet suffering. As she made her way to the field, she dragged that giant, unwieldy sword behind her.
"This ought to be good," Ukyo observed dryly as Ranko reached her destination and then motioned for Akane to join her.
Akane stared at her blankly. "Wait, me?" she asked, still reeling from her humiliating loss from before.
Ranko propped a hand on her hip. "Yes, you! You're supposed to show me your seriously epic technique, remember? You promised!"
"Actually, your brother made that promise, not me," she reminded her, sullen, shooting a quick, accusatory glower in Ranma's direction.
"Err, sorry 'bout that," he mumbled, wisely looking abashed.
It didn't make Akane feel any better.
Stepping back in that ring was the last thing she wanted. What if she locked up and failed again? Her confidence would never recover.
"I don't care what you kids do," Ryu Kumon said, slinging a small backpack over his shoulder. Having cleared the ring, he (of course) had headed straight for the gate. "Our work here is done."
"And we smashed it. As usual," General Awesome bragged, even as he struggled to remove Shampoo's hand from off his arm. It seemed she was clinging to his side again, and Mousse was clinging to her.
"Right! Time to celebrate with a drink!" Ryu roared, and Akane could've sworn he was already salivating.
"Yeah. Intown," Taro muttered in annoyance, glaring at Ranma. "Since some asshole prince drained all the booze in the barracks."
"Still not sorry," Ranma said, sticking his tongue out at him.
The other two boys looked like they wanted to cut it off. But again, thick and stifling guilt wrapped itself around her throat, slowly choking her.
That, too, was because of her.
But Ranko didn't care about all of their posturing. She was just happy to see them disappear through those gates. "Alright! Now that those losers are gone, it's go time!" She pointed a finger straight at Akane, in a way, she guessed, that was supposed to be intimidating. "Do your best, killer!"
Akane slowly, reluctantly, climbed to her feet and took up her sword.
"Don't worry, there's no way you can't win," Ranma said with a wink. "That relic she's got is as old as this castle. It'll break with one touch."
"Yeah. Cream her, Sugar!" Ukyo cheered as she clapped Akane on the back, looking more excited about this match than all the other fights combined.
Which made no sense. As far as she knew, Ranko wasn't a trained fighter. In fact, if her Aunt saw them now, she'd have fainted from shock. There was nothing Princess-like about the girl standing before her.
Yet it was clear who everyone wanted to win.
"Yeah! Let's see what those old guys taught you," added Ryoga, leaning forward, like he cared how this farce turned out.
And he wasn't the only one.
All the other trainees (except for Shampoo and Mousse, who had followed the Generals) were settling down to watch as well, and every single one shouted her name in support.
It was all so silly. This match didn't even matter, yet there they were, completely invested like this was a tournament-worthy face-off they'd all been waiting weeks to watch. Even shy, timid Konatsu was getting into the drama. "Please, Akane-chan," he yelled theatrically, now waving his soiled handkerchief in the air like a flag. "Avenge my honor!"
She never felt sillier. Sillier, because their encouragement and support were working. She felt strangely warm and light, like her loss earlier didn't even matter. Like her real test was happening right now.
And who was she to disappoint Ranko?
Her friend looked thrilled to play the role of a villain.
As Akane stood across from her, Ranko stared her down, way more confident than she had a right to be, considering she was still struggling to lift the gigantic sword she faced her with. "So. You've shown yourself at last," she drawled.
Akane shook her head, convinced she'd lost it. "You told me to come, remember?"
Ranko cackled obnoxiously, the sound piercing. "That's right. See, this kingdom's not big enough for the both of us, so only one of us is walking off this field alive. And it ain't gonna be you."
"Sure it won't," Akane replied, rolling her eyes affectionately. "Then I guess there's no other choice," she said, playing along. She raised her sword.
Winners strike first, and she was going to win!
With difficulty, her wiry opponent lifted that monstrous artifact she called a sword, mirroring her stance. Although her arms were visibly straining, fighting to hold it steady, to hold it at all. "Ha! Bring it on, weakling!"
So Akane did just that.
Destroying things was her specialty, after all—she had Master Happosai to thank for that. So, although this fight was nothing like the one she'd had with Ranma in a field outside Wistalia, the results were the same. After a single efficient strike, courtesy of Master Saffron's sword-shattering technique, another Saotome sword was destroyed, never to be wielded again.
"Nooooo!" Ranko wailed as she collapsed to the ground in a pathetic heap, drawing the shattered pieces closer.
Akane carefully re-sheathed her sword. "I tried to warn you," she told her, matter-of-factly as their small audience yelled and cheered as if she'd just slayed a beast.
And maybe, in a way, she had.
Akane had remembered something important just now: Even though she had lost today, that didn't mean she'd always lose.
Both of her masters had been fond of stuffing her head full of ancient proverbs and stuffy words of wisdom, words she could practically hear them throwing at her now: "Hard work is important, Akane, but sometimes all it takes to win is one lucky break. Never underestimate the power of chance. Chance and luck can also win wars."
At that moment, standing in the middle of a training field in Wistalia, as her friend, someone she thought she'd never see again, continued to wail and pretend-sob over her broken weapon. . .
Well. Maybe it was silly.
But Akane had never felt luckier.
End of Chapter 9