Chapter 8

Ranma didn't enjoy the luxury of sleep that night. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw a certain tomboy's flushed face and ruby-red lips, and then that giddy, triumphant look on her face after she'd stolen her kiss.

Now, Ranma wanted more.

He wanted to know everything about her.

What did she do for fun? What made her laugh? What made her upset? Why did she want to learn to fight so badly? Who, or what, did she want to protect? And when she thought no one was watching, what was she thinking about when she got that sad, far-away look in her eyes?

She was an enigma he wanted desperately to unravel.

But he wasn't sure he had that right.

Even if he liked someone, Ranma couldn't just casually date. His feelings were a shackle, especially to someone normal and independent like Akane. Anyone he seriously set his sights on would have to eventually rule beside him as Queen, lose their freedom, shoulder an awful lot of responsibility—and think he was somehow worth the trouble.

Would Akane?

A cute girl he found in the woods slumbering beneath a crumbling wall?

And if she did, would it even matter?

Ranma's father had been annoyingly persistent about finding him a bride, and it's not like he could tell him, "Hey, pops, I know you want me to marry some rich, spoiled snob, but surprise! I finally found a girl I like. She's probably a commoner, so for now, how 'bout we hold off on this silly engagement thing until after I've won her over and you've pulled your head outta your ass? Okay, thanks. Great talk!"

He didn't think that would go over very well.

And another obstacle was Akane herself.

With marriage in mind, how could he bring it up when she might not even like him? What if she didn't even remember their kiss? He couldn't take her out on a midnight stroll and ask her to be tied down to him for the rest of her life with nothing to go on.

She'd kick him into next week!

Besides, even if, by some miracle, she did return his feelings and agree . . . they still had his father to contend with.

Sure, there were no laws outright against marrying a commoner, but his old man was too selfish, too greedy, and opportunistic not to gain something from his son's marriage. If not for their mother, he and Ranko would've been sold to the highest bidder ages ago.

So unless Akane was some unknown royal or heir to a hidden fortune, his feelings didn't mean squat.

He was screwed either way.

Which brought up another issue.

He still didn't know a thing about her. Sure, she was stubborn, headstrong, and proud. She hated perverts and could handle a sword like no one's business. And she had some family back in Clarines. Probably. But everything else about her was a mystery.

Who were her parents? What kingdom did she hail from? Was she already engaged? Would she want to be?

Those were all questions that kept him up at night.

So was it any wonder he hadn't slept?

"I have to talk to her," Ranma decided as he sat up in bed and reached for his tunic. But after heading for his door for the twelfth time that night, he paused with his hand on the handle, second-guessing himself yet again.

She was probably still passed out drunk for one thing, and for another, he didn't want to come on too strong and scare her off.

The tomboy was a flight risk, and Ranma wasn't naive enough to think her desire to be properly trained would keep her by his side forever; there were other kingdoms and other masters who could teach her just as easily as his generals could.

He had to tread carefully.

Deciding sleep was a lost cause after all, Ranma grabbed his cloak and his sword and decided to go for a walk instead. Maybe with some early morning exercise, he could clear his head and plan his next move. And if he just happened to end up outside a certain tomboy's bedroom, right when she was supposed to be getting up to train, well then, he'd just chalk that up to fate too. . .

Sometimes, even a prince needed to give destiny a helping hand.

…

It was a long time before Akane awoke, but when she did, it was to a splitting headache and a very real fear she'd done something incredibly dumb last night. Feeling awful, she slowly sat up, the memory of taking that first drink bouncing around painfully in her head like a ricocheting ball.

She hadn't REALLY been that stupid, had she?

Before Akane could dwell on it too deeply, someone started pounding on her door, giving her poor headache and a heart attack. "Not so loud," she grumbled as she slowly sat up.

"Hey, you awake in there?"

At the familiar sound of her friend's voice, Akane was tempted to lie back down. "Yes," she grumbled, massaging her aching temples. "Come in, Ranko."

The redhead quickly poked her head in the door and looked slyly around the room. "Oh, so you are alone," she said.

"And why wouldn't I be?"

Wearing a smug, devilish grin that promised no end of misery, Ranko strolled inside, though for some reason she was lugging a giant sword behind her, more than half her size as she closed the door behind her. "Well, Ukyo told me everything, so when Ranma wasn't in his room, I thought for sure I'd find him here."

Akane blanched, and quickly looked around her small quarters, as though fearing he'd pop out any second. "Wait. WhatdidUkyo tell you, exactly?"

She frantically searched her brain, hunting for a clue.

But there was nothing.

"Oh, the usual. That you went a bit out of control trying to kiss everyone," she teased, sitting on the edge of her bed. "Supposedly, they had to tie you up with Mousse's chains and stick you in a corner of the room to get you to stop."

Having feared a lot worse, Akane sighed in relief. "Oh, is that all?"

"Not even close," said Ranko with a grin. "Ranma was sent to fetch you and whatever happened after that must have been epic because he's barred alcohol in the barracks, and chewed everyone out for letting you drink."

Akane groaned as her stomach dropped and twisted itself into knots. "I don't believe this," she said, mortified and in denial. There was just no way she could've attacked Ranma.He was too fast, too strong, and too stubborn to be kissed so easily! Even if she had been stupid enough to try, he should've been able to dodge!

Ranko patted her reassuringly on the back. "It was only a matter of time, you know. If you hadn't attacked him on your own, me and my mother would've found a way to push you two together anyway. All you did was save us both the trouble."

"Very funny," she grumbled, glaring at her.

Still, Ranko couldn't seem to stop grinning. "Anyway, isn't this your first day of training? Are you sure it's a good idea to be late?"

In seconds, Akane was up and moving, the events of last night a welcome blur as she rushed to get ready. She'd almost forgotten why she was here in the first place! Drunken kissing was the least of her worries.

She had her family's life and legacy to avenge! This was no time for romance.

…

Ranma never made it to Akane. Right after he'd finished his early morning workout at the training grounds and dumped all the alcohol he could find, his father sent one of his messengers to fetch him.

Like some damn dog.

"Sorry to interrupt your training, my liege, but the King asked to see you."

"Fan-fucking-tastic. Can't I go and get changed first?"

"My apologies, but he wants to see you now."

Of course, he did. Miserable busybody.

This promised to be very annoying and inconvenient. Ranma thought he already knew what it was about too.

His marriage—or lack thereof.

It was the same topic his father always brought up whenever he was bored out of his skull or wanted to feel important. The last time he'd been summoned, his father had threatened to marry him to Kodachi if he didn't hurry up and make a decision. It was that fight that had pushed Ranma to lie and escape to the outskirts of the city, using a fake border skirmish as an excuse to lay low and avoid even more of his father's idiotic meddling.

And that's when he met Akane. So in a way, he supposed he owed his father a thank you. He might have finally found his son a bride when he wasn't even trying.

As his escort led the way (because his father didn't trust him not to run off) Ranma quickly began to brainstorm, already trying to think his way out of whatever idiocy his father would propose this time. He didn't have time for this; he needed to figure this Akane thing out first.

This was no time for fiancées.

But since his father's office wasn't far away, Ranma didn't have long to plan. Once they'd arrived outside his door, he braced himself for another frustrating day of listening to his old man complain.

He'd rather be doing anything else.

However, when he opened the door, Ranma hesitated, surprised to find his father sitting at his desk.

He never sat at his desk.

"Prince Ranma is here," the messenger announced. His father nodded and gave him a dismissive wave so he'd scurry away.

His old man still hadn't looked at him. His nose was buried in a scroll, one of many that were piled high on his huge mahogany desk. "About time you showed up," King Genma greeted, deigning to tear his gaze away from his precious work. "Why don't you sit down? We have a lot to talk about, Ranma."

Oh great.

"I'll stand, thanks."

"Suit yourself," his father told him as he sat forward in his chair and steepled his fingers ominously. "I trust you know why I sent for you today."

Ranma scoffed. "I've got an inkling, yeah."

"Great!" He said with a self-satisfied smirk. "Then best not beat around the bush, eh? I take it you've had time to think about what I said, to get over your little tantrum?"

He said tantrum like it was a pesky fly he could shoo away. Ranma's jaw tightened.

"Yeah, I've been thinking a lot, actually," he replied bluntly. "And no, I will not be choosing a bride today or any other day, for that matter. ESPECIALLY not Kodachi. But thanks for the unnecessary meddling, as usual, pops. If you're that bored, feel free to shift some of that attention to your daughter; we are the same age, you know. I'm sure she'd love a chance to get hitched." That was a lie, but Ranko was much better at handling their father than he was, so it was only fair she took a turn. "K, great talk. Bye then."

His father's angry voice stopped him mid-turn. "You ingrate," he shouted as he slapped his hands against the desk with a loud thwack that Ranma only hoped had reached his skull. "Who knew I had such an ungrateful brat for a son?!"

"I'm pretty sure you've known that since I was five."

"Oh, where did I go wrong?" His father lamented, overwrought, quick to change tactics. "To think, my own flesh and blood already disappointing me in my old, doddering age."

"You're barely 46."

"Ooh, if only my own SON would take pity on his poor, abused father! All that I do, I do for my beloved kingdom."

Ranma rolled his eyes and bit his tongue.

Everyone knew it was his mother who ruled the country. His father couldn't be bothered. Even with the small amount of paperwork he was responsible for Ranma usually got saddled with "for practice".

His father really was shameless.

"Oh, where did I go wrong?" he whined, sobbing pathetically.

Ranma had had enough.

"Look, I'm not gonna marry some rich snob just so you can fill your coffers," he told him because that's always what it came down to: Greed and power. His father couldn't be bothered with anything else. "So if that's all you wanted to talk about, then I think we're done here."

"I'LL say when we're done!" Genma snapped, stepping away from his chair. Considering Ranma had a couple of inches on him, it wasn't nearly as intimidating as he probably meant it to be. Still, he slammed down one of the many scrolls and pointed at it. "Choose one!"

Ranma pushed the parchment away. "How many times do I gotta repeat myself? You're wasting your time! I'm not marrying some rich, self-absorbed noble just so you can go and gamble their dowry away! So just drop the overbearing parent act already and let me marry whoever the hell I want!"

"You have a duty. To your father and this kingdom. You're lucky I'm giving you a choice at all, Ranma!"

"A choice?" He scoffed as he picked up the closest scroll and glanced over it quickly. They'd done this song and dance so many times now, he knew it by heart. "And what great options they are. This one," he pointed out, waving the scroll in his hands, "looks sickly and half dead! And that one," he added, pointing to a familiar scroll with the Sugihara family crest he'd looked over previously, "is widowed and in her fifties! Rumor has it she even killed her last husband!"

"Yes, well, I trust you could take her," Genma replied dryly. "And so what if the other is a bit unwell? Women are supposed to be meek and docile."

That was bull. His mother and Ranko were anything but meek pushovers. But before he could protest, his father was hurrying on.

"Just, think for a minute, son! Her family is gone, she's all alone. If she passes, ALL that wealth would fall to us!"

"Us?" Ranma repeated incredulously. Disgusted. Wow, his father could be a real piece of work. "Tell you what. If I'm forced to marry, then I promise to donate all that wealth to Lumeria under Uncle Tendo's name. Then you won't see a goddamn cent!"

The King paled at that threat, his plump jowl trembling. "You'd deprive the kingdom of such bounty, just to spite your father?"

"Uh, yeah. In a second."

Genma collapsed back into his chair as if this conversation had physically exhausted him. "I only want what's best for you, Ranma," he replied, his tone heavy. "Marrying and carrying on our family's legacy is the responsibility and duty of every heir. And you've put off your responsibility for far too long."

"Like that's my fault," Ranma protested, eyeing the stack of scrolls with distaste. "Who asked you to find all the crazy, greedy, selfish women in Japan and dangle me in front of them like some piece of meat?"

"You're hardly prime rib," he countered.

"Look, pops," said Ranma, knowing his father was never going to back down unless he gave him reason to. "If you haven't noticed, I'm brave, strong, manly, and I'm not bad to look at either—I'm more than capable of choosing a wife for myself. I don't need or want your help."

"If that were true you'd be married already," he huffed.

"What do you expect when I'm supposed to base my entire future on some stupid docket?" He tossed the scroll back with the others. "What's so wrong with wanting to meet someone in person first? To get to know them before committing myself to them for life?"

At that, his father looked deep in thought, his brow furrowed. "Am I to understand then, boy, that you're willing to marry? You just don't like the options I'm presenting you?"

"That's what I've been telling you all along, you stupid old man!"

The smile his father gave him then was almost sinister, as if he'd watched his son unknowingly step into a trap and couldn't be happier. "Understood," he told him, and Ranma blinked slowly, unsure what it was he thought he understood. "So, it's settled then. I'll give you one month, Ranma. One full month to find a suitable bride that me and your mother approve of. Someone worthy of the title of royal consort. Then, at the end of the month, we'll hold a marriage ball, right here in Wistalia, for every eligible maiden in all eight kingdoms to attend. That's where you'll announce your choice with our blessing. Or I'll decide for you that very night."

His father was staring at him proudly as if he'd single-handedly returned peace to all eight kingdoms. But Ranma wasn't stupid. This idea must've been brewing in his father's thick skull for a while now—no way he could organize such a huge gathering in only a month. He'd bet all the invitations had already gone out.

Still, that suited him just fine. This might be the best chance he had. "A month, huh?"

"A month," his father confirmed solemnly.

One month to court Akane. To find out what she was hiding, and then convince her to marry him. After that, all he'd need to do is convince his mother and his father would fall in line like he always did.

It wasn't a perfect plan, but it was his best bet.

"Fine. One month," Ranma agreed, and even though he was making the deal with his father, the self-satisfied smile that stole over the king's face, made him feel like he'd just struck a deal with the devil.

"Excellent choice, son. You won't regret this."

He was sure he wouldn't.

But his father might.

Ranma was ready to pull out all the stops, to show his father that in love and war, and especially his marriage, anything goes.

…

When Akane finally arrived at the training grounds, it was to find she wasn't the only one running late. Although all the winners of the competition were there, no one else was.

"Um, just how long was I asleep?" she whispered to Ranko, fearing she'd missed an important announcement. Or maybe even her first official day of training. "Where are all the generals?"

"Pouting, as usual." Ranko shook her head in exasperation as if that were a common occurrence. "The Musk are protesting the alcohol ban—oh sorry," she explained at Akane's confused look. "That's what we call Herb, Lime and Mint. And I think Taro and Ryu are both sleeping off their hangovers. So professional. We're very proud to have them."

Akane flushed in embarrassment, recalling her part in the alcohol ban. Honestly, what had Ranma been thinking?

"So then, is there a reason Shampoo and Mousse keep glaring at me?" She had her suspicions, of course, but it wouldn't hurt to know who among her training mates she owed an apology to.

Ranko merely shrugged. "You may have kissed everyone here for all I know. Ukyo wouldn't tell me the good stuff."

"That's just wonderful," Akane muttered, her face blazing with embarrassment. She couldn't help but wonder who all among them she'd molested last night. Her relief over not spilling her secrets was fading fast. "Where is Ukyo, anyway? Did she bail too?"

"Nah. She wasn't very happy when none of them showed up. I think she went to beat the snot out of them."

Akane chuckled at her friend's choice of words. Even as children, Ranko hadn't been very ladylike, despite her Auntie's best attempts; she was too much like her brother. "Well, I just hope they show up soon," she admitted as she sat down on the ground and began to stretch. When they did show up, she wanted to be ready to clobber them!

"Don't worry, they'll come," Ranko assured her with a wave of her hand. "Herb can get away with slacking off since he's been with our family forever. But Pantyhose and Ryu can't. They're just being dumb boys."

"Yeah, boys sure are the worst!" complained Tsubasa, a boy, who for some reason, was currently disguised as a trash can.

"Truly, all men are terrible creatures," Konatsu agreed as he swept a delicate hand through his long, thick ponytail. "It's like my stepmother and step-sisters always say: You can't live with them, but killing them is unfairly frowned upon."

"Normally, I'd agree," Ranko said off-handedly, feeling obligated to defend her country's military choices. "But all the generals here DO take their jobs seriously. Usually. Not today, obviously, but every other day—professionals. The lot of 'em!"

"I sure hope so," Akane replied.

"Don't worry, Akane," Shinnosuke assured her, having moved closer during their conversation with the others. "We can just spar amongst ourselves until they show up. I'm sure there are lots of useful pointers we can learn from one another!"

At this sensible suggestion, Akane smiled brightly. "That's a great idea, Shinnosuke! I would love to learn how to wield a weapon the way you do." She recalled how effortless his movements in the competition had been. Who wouldn't want to learn that? "I bet it would improve my speed and coordination a lot."

The bashful grin he gave her in reply was sweet.

Sweet, but that was all. It didn't make her heart race uncontrollably like a certain dumb prince always did.

"Well, I certainly have nothing to learn from you," Mousse told her as he haughtily pushed his glasses up to glare at her more effectively. At some point, he too has moved closer. "Your behavior last night was disgraceful! How DARE your filthy lips defile Shampoo's beautiful porcelain skin!"

Surprised by the hate spewing her way, Akane spluttered, too startled to defend herself. Luckily, she didn't have to. Ranko jumped to her feet immediately.

"Hey! You can't talk to her that way, you worm!"

"WORM? Who are you calling a worm, you pipsqueak?!"

"That's PRINCESS pipsqueak to you, bub!"

At the reminder, Mousse gasped and reared back a step, as if he hadn't realized who he'd just insulted.

"Mousse not wrong," Shampoo sniffed, having no such qualms about correcting Wistalia's princess. She crossed her arms. "Next time, pervert girl die for humiliate Shampoo."

"Go ahead and try it! You touch Akane and you'll be breathing through a hole in your neck," Ranko warned her and then tried to lift her huge, too-heavy sword for emphasis.

"Ranko!" Akane protested as she put a restraining hand on her arm. After all, this was her fault. She didn't blame Shampoo one bit for being angry. She'd be angry too if she let her guard down like that and got kissed so easily.

"Well now. I've never seen such a sorry display," Ryoga scoffed as he sauntered onto the field along with Ukyo. "All this whining over a mere kiss? Pathetic. You don't see Ukyo throwing a fit, now, do you?"

"Right!" Ukyo said as she came marching in after him, dragging a protesting Taro painfully by the ear. Ryu Kumon trailed after them all, yawning tiredly, still looking half asleep. "Besides," she continued, "a peck on the cheek is hardly worth getting so upset about! Now, mayyyybe if it had been fully on the lips like with Ranma," she tittered cheekily.

Again, Akane felt her face flare up.

Why did everyone keep bringing up that supposed kiss?! She didn't even remember it!

"It's not fair," Ranko groused, glaring at her sword as if it were to blame. "I wish I'd been there. I miss everything good!"

Having finally released Pantyhose Taro, Ukyo gave her a comforting pat on the back. "Don't we all, Sugar! Don't we all."

"That's for sure! I would've given anything to see Ranma losing to the same girl twice and a drunk one at that! Talk about pathetic," Ryoga cackled.

But Akane could only stare at them in confusion. "Wait a second, you mean . . . none of you guys were even there?" She glanced around the field, looking for someone, anyone, who might have seen her violating the crown prince last night. And when no one else came forward, hope rekindled in her soul as Akane considered that maybe they were mistaken.

Maybe nothing happened at all.

Maybe Ranma's extreme reaction was borne out of a need to protect his new friend.

"To be fair, you were all alone with him during your little affliction," Ukyo pointed out with a shrug. "Anything could have happened after you two left. And his reaction was awfully suspicious."

"That's right!" Ryoga agreed as he scratched the back of his head. "Ranma's a jerk, but he's not usually a nutcase. Herb's ready to kill him."

"Whatever. I still say they kissed," Ranko insisted as she stubbornly crossed her arms. "I mean, look at them," she added, mushing Akane's cheeks together, "they were made for each other!"

"Akane fit for pervert. Not prince," Shampoo scoffed.

"Who cares," Ryu Kumon complained, clearly not interested in their drama at all. "Where the hell are the others? If I have to be awake, then so should the Musk!"

"Yeah, who gives a fuck about Ranma's pathetic love life anyway," Taro muttered, rubbing his aching ear. "He's still a loser whether he got kissed or not."

Ranko snorted derisively. "Says the guy who's probably never touched a woman, let alone kissed one."

"Like you're one to talk, shrimp," Taro shot back, proving he was no smarter than Mousse. "Any guy that tried to touch you would probably have his hand cut off. They'd need to be blind AND mad."

Ranko sniffed. "I'd be the one doing the cutting, moron."

"Man, you guys are both annoying," Ryu cut in. "Why don't you two just get a room already?"

"Eww, gross, Kumon." "You jerk, I'd rather die!"

Unlike Akane, not everyone was invested in their absurd love story. "Shampoo no care for drama. We train?" She inquired, fed up with their inane conversation.

Ryoga and Ukyo shared an uncomfortable look. Brainstorming on the fly.

"Of course, you'll train," Ukyo assured them as she shoved Ryu from behind. "But since the Musk are out sick—"

"Very, very sick," Ryoga echoed, nodding his head.

"These two morons will be leading your practice today instead," Ukyo concluded, although Ryu and Taro both looked less than thrilled by that news.

"Can't wait," Taro muttered.

"So, yeah. We'll be riiight over there if you need us," Ukyo promised as she dragged Ryoga towards a weapons hovel that bordered the edge of the field. Both of them sat down to watch in the shade as if they weren't quite comfortable leaving them alone yet.

Their lack of confidence wasn't reassuring.

Just how powerful were these two?!

"Great. Then let's get this over with," Ryu muttered as he walked to the center of the grounds. "If you don't remember from your drunken escapades yesterday, my name's Ryu Kumon—General Kumon, to all of you—and I'm stronger than everyone here. Hell, I'm definitely stronger than him," he said, pointing at Tsubasa. "Any questions?"

Nobody raised their hands.

"Terrific. You might not all be lost causes after all. So. Pantyhose, you're up."

"I told you not to call me that!" Pantyhose Taro shouted, though still hung over, couldn't be bothered to move from his spot. He was leaning against the huge metal doors as if he wanted desperately to be on the other side of them. "Listen up, maggots! My name is Awesome Taro. NOT Pantyhose, despite what these idiots may try and tell you. I'm a general. And I'm awesome. Feel free to call me General Awesome."

"You do not need to call him that," Ukyo yelled across the field.

"Shove it, Kuonji!"

Akane hadn't thought she'd made a bad decision returning to Wistalia, but staring at these strange new instructors, she was beginning to question her plans.

What could they possibly teach her?

"Alright newbies, I know you all want a piece of me—who wouldn't?—but you're going to have to earn that right," Ryu told them, chin held high. "So we'll be starting with a three-on-three battle for that honor, got it? Consider this the ultimate competition between champions. But this time, the winner gets to be beaten by me, and the other one can have a go at panty-boy over there."

He gestured vaguely in Taro's direction as if his match was much less exciting.

"Right. You always save the best for last," Taro bragged.

"So how about this." Ryu Kumon said, pointing towards Akane, Shinnosuke, and Konatsu who were standing closest together. "Liplock, Broom-boy, and Ninja-thing will all fight it out. Then the winner will face off against yours truly." He then pointed towards Shampoo, Mousse, and Tsubasa; the rest of the stragglers. "That leaves Psycho-chick, Blind-boy, and Trash-can to fight it out for the chance to strangle Panty-face. Got it?"

"What, so I don't get to fight?" Ranko pouted, pointing towards her stupidly huge sword. "I even brought a weapon and everything!"

Ryoga scoffed. "You can barely lift it."

"Of course, you can't, runt," Ryu told her, as blunt as ever. "We're not here to waste time on you."

"Yeah. Get lost, squirt," added Taro.

But Ranko simply scoffed and ran a hand through her braid. "I'm not here to train with the likes of you bozos," she clarified and then pointed to Akane. "I was promised a demonstration and I'm here to collect! So I get Liplock once you're done with her."

At the terrible nickname, Akane shuddered. "I wish you'd stop calling me that."

"Sorry, Liplock. It's your name now. Don't try and fight it."

"Alright, quit yapping," Ryu ordered as he settled down on the ground and lounged on his side, his chin propped on his arm as he made himself comfortable. "First group, you're up—and by that, I'm talking about Pantyhose's pack since that ass-hat hasn't done a damn thing all morning."

Despite the accusation, General Taro didn't complain once as he moved to the center of the field. "Fine by me. Let's get this over with, losers. The sooner I kick your ass, the sooner I can go back to bed and sleep this damn hangover off."

While they'd been distracted by their instructors, Ryoga and Ukyo had begun planting four small flags around the perimeter of the arena, clearly marking the boundary for the impending fight.

Shampoo, Mousse, and Tsubasa all entered the field as one, appraising their competition with cool, calculating eyes. Well, Shampoo and Tsubasa were—for some reason, Mousse was kneeling on the ground in front of Konatsu, holding some wilting flowers out to him like a gift. "I'll win this battle and win your heart once and for all, Shampoo," he declared as the real Shampoo ignored him. Instead, she continued doing stretches in the corner, waiting for the match to begin.

Still, Konatsu didn't seem to understand the mix-up. He was blushing prettily, like a girl being courted. "How flattering," he told him, but shyly pushed the flowers away. "But I'm afraid to say my heart is reserved for another."

Akane didn't miss the lovesick look he threw Ukyo's way, and instantly felt bad for the kunoichi. She wasn't positive, but she sensed the other girl had feelings for Ryoga.

Yet at the unfamiliar voice, Mousse frowned and quickly readjusted his glasses. "And who are you?" He demanded as he forcefully withdrew his flowers, crushing them in the process. "You're not my beautiful Shampoo!"

"No, but I can be," Tsubasa told him, and though she hadn't seen him do it, for some reason, he was disguised as a giant shampoo bottle now instead.

Before Mousse could pound him, General Taro raised his voice to address all three combatants.

"Alright, you lowlifes, time to play. The rules are simple," he said, pointing to the flags the others had placed around the field. "Those red flags are the markers. Pass them and you're done. Last one in the ring wins and faces off with me. Got it?"

They all got it.

It was similar to the rules of the original competition but on a less grand scale, since here, there was no giant platform to fall off of. Still, Akane bounced excitedly where she sat, eager to see so many talented fighters in a true battle royale.

She knew this fight would be epic. . .

It was not.

Mousse was eliminated first, but not because of any cool technique, or an epic pummeling. Oh no. A minute into the fight, the hidden weapons master hadn't seen the boundary line and accidentally stepped right over it. After that, Shampoo simply grabbed the top of Tsubasa's giant shampoo bottle costume and hurled it through the air like a disc, right past the nearest flag, eliminating him in seconds and leaving only a speck in the sky as proof he'd even been there.

When it was over, the audience was silent. Well, almost everyone. After a few shocked moments, Ranko whistled long and low. "Well, that wasn't a fight. It was a massacre."

"It was pathetic, that's what it was," Taro observed with a disgusted shake of his head. "I've never seen a more pathetic display."

"Except your own, when you faced off against Commander Herb for the first time," Ryu reminded him with a chuckle.

Taro didn't look embarrassed at all; he just yawned and picked at his ear with his pinky. "Not the same. Herb's a beast. These runts are babes compared to him."

"Yeah, well, good job anyway," Ryu added with a quick, insincere nod in Shampoo's direction. "Looks like you won."

"Was cake," Shampoo scoffed as she dusted off her hands as she left the arena. Akane wondered if she even realized (or cared) that Mousse was sniffling in the corner, mumbling something about 'losing his chance with Shampoo yet again' (whatever that meant).

Then again, if Akane had lost that quickly, that poorly, she'd be crying too.

"Alright, the rest of you losers are up," Ryu announced as he looked in the direction of where the rest of their group was gathered. "After we have our next winner, Psycho chick will face off with panty-wipe, and the next winner will get their ass handed to them by me. But first, you three better give us a better performance. I'm gonna be pissed if I have to sit through another amateur hour."

"Like that'll be hard," Taro muttered as he sat on the ground and crossed his legs, resting his chin in his palm.

Shaking off her nerves, Akane took a deep breath, and picking up her sword, stood. She moved to the center of the arena with the others. Once inside, all three bowed politely to one another before taking up defensive positions as they waited for the signal to begin.

I can do this, Akane repeated to herself, even though she realized she had a lot more to lose by failing in this fight. They already expected so much from her as the sole student of two famous masters; but more importantly, Akane expected a lot from herself.

For her, this was more than a friendly skirmish. So she'd do her best to live up to all of their expectations.

"Great, you finally made it!"

Across the field, the greeting was so random and sudden, that Akane couldn't help but follow the sound of Ranko's voice to see who'd arrived.

. . .And quickly wished that she hadn't.

Settling down next to his sister, was Ranma. Prince Ranma, the same dumb boy she may have unintentionally kissed last night.

Instantly, Akane's hands began to sweat and her throat grew tight, like her body was desperately trying to strangle itself. Even her cheeks flushed with warmth as she nervously fanned her face with her hand and tried to calm down.

Honestly! Why did he have to comenowof all times?! Didn't he know she needed to concentrate?

If General Ryu Kumon sensed her distress though, he didn't seem to care.

"Alright, leftovers, same rules apply," he reminded them from the other side of the ring. "Like we said before, 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 told them, pointing towards Mousse. "Either way, the last one standing wins. The fight commences on the count of three."

All of them nodded, though Akane less confidently this time. Ranma's presence was like an annoying little fly, constantly buzzing in one of her ears.

She tried to shut him out.

"Three, two, one!"

And just like that, the second fight had begun.

End of Chapter 8

A/N: Due to the upcoming holiday, Chapter 9 may be out on Saturday next week. Thanks for your continued support!