A/N: This chapter was initially over 9,000 words, but since I've been busy, I only had time to edit its first half. So, to stay on schedule, this chapter will be split into two chapters, with the ball taking place in Chapter 11 instead. I apologize in advance for the wait!

...

Ranma knew that a month wasn't a lot of time, but he hadn't expected the days to slip through his fingers faster than sand falling through a damned hourglass.

It was infuriating!

After ten days, Ranma knew more about Kodachi Kuno and all the other eligible snobs in the country, than he did about the one girl he wanted to know more about.

Thanks to his father.

Ranma hated to be outplayed.

Despite their agreement, his stupid old man seemed determined to undermine him at every turn. If he wasn't keeping him busy with random errands and time-consuming orders, he was intentionally burying him under mounds of boring paperwork instead.

Yet, Ranma couldn't give him ALL the credit. Even without the old man's lousy interference, he still would've been well and thoroughly screwed . . . because even when he did manage to escape, Akane was too busy for him anyways.

The dummy was ALWAYS training.

Even after General Herb dismissed them for the day, Akane and the others would stay behind to lift weights, meditate, or practice their swordsmanship together. And with the other guys always buzzing around, begging her for help—or in the case of the Musk Generals, to feel her up—Ranma was so busy running interference or pounding perverts, that he never had a quiet chance to talk to her himself.

In any other situation, he'd find such grit and determination in a girl admirable. Impressive, even.

But now, it was just getting annoying.

How the hell was he supposed to win her hand when it was constantly wrapped around a sword or another guy's throat?

And even if it wasn't, would it even make a difference?

If he were being honest, Ranma was inwayover his head here. Even if he DID have all the time in the world, he'd STILL be screwed because he had no fucking clue how to court anyone.

Every time he tried, he clammed up, stared too long, or acted a creep, holding entire conversations in his head without saying a word.

It was embarrassing.

And Ranko was no damn help!

(Not that he thought she would be).

"You're overthinking it. Just kiss her," she'd told him after he'd finally worked up the courage to tell her the truth and ask for advice. This was, of course, after she'd done a victory fist-pump into the air to celebrate. "Trust me, girls love it when a guy knows what he wants. And she wants you. So kiss her."

"Uh-huh." Ranma knew one thing about the tomboy: she was definitely the type to maim first and ask questions later. That, and ever since their drunken kiss, she'd been avoiding him like the plague. "I want her to like me not to try and KILL me!"

"You're so dramatic."

"And you're delusional."

"Then why not train with her?" she'd suggested with a casual wave of her hand. "Use one of your flashy, impressive moves to get her on her back. Then you can stare deep into her eyes, tell her how strong and capable she is, and she'll be putty in your hands!"

"Wow. You really are useless."

At that point, Ranma had vowed never to ask his idiot sister for advice ever again.

But that's how ten more days came and went, followed by fifteen, then twenty. Until finally, only nine days remained and Ranma was getting desperate.

He was tempted to say "screw it" and whisk her away for the day. Take her back to the cabin where they first met and hash it all out. It was a better plan than trying to catch her eye while she trained.

The stupid uncute tomboy wouldn't even look at him.

But Ranma knew he needed to man up and make a play soon. Any play. Losing wasn't an option. His whole future was riding on this!

This was war.

And Ranma would rather die than lose.

…

The perfect plan came to him on his way to breakfast.

Only eight days were left.

But his plan was so obvious, so brilliant, Ranma wasn't sure why he hadn't thought of it before.

(Seriously, sometimes his genius surprised even him!)

The plan was simple.

She might be avoiding him like the plague, but she always ate breakfast with them. Every morning. Without fail.

He wasn't sure why.

But it was the perfect opportunity.

He'd say, Hey Akane. Wanna go for a walk? Real casual-like, with no pressure. And when she turned him down, which she inevitably would, he'd bring out the big guns: It's actually kinda important.

From there, she'd be putty in his hands.

Akane was too nice to turn him down twice, not once he played the "important" card.

After that, heh. Child's play.

Ranma would lead her to the gardens and romance her socks off. Then, following a tearful confession where she admitted to liking him too (because how could she not) he'd invite her to the ball for a surprise, where he'd propose in front of everyone, and all his problems would be solved.

Come to think of it, Ranma wasn't sure why he'd worried at all. He had this in the bag!

Of course, like with martial arts, he knew practice was essential. So Ranma continued to train all throughout breakfast, constantly repeating the line over and over—Hey Akane. Wanna go for a walk?—as he picked nervously at his food, trying his hardest not to look at her.

He failed at that too.

But who could blame him?

She looked cute dressed in a plain burgundy training outfit that was cinched at the waist by a yellow ribbon.

Hey Akane. Wanna go for a walk?

Ranma was doing so well training, that he almost missed the sound of her chair scraping against the floor as she unexpectedly stood up.

The dummy had finished her meal while he'd been distracted.

Feeling rushed, Ranma shot to his feet too, practically knocking his chair over in the process . . . and in those few precious moments, his mind went blank.

Completely, utterly blank.

Oh hell.

Akane stared at him in surprise, her pretty brow furrowed as he stood there like an idiot, staring across the table, not saying a word. "Oh, did you need something, Ranma?"

Shit. Say something!

"I-err, wanna walk?" he managed as his stupid sister, the only audience left, burst into laughter right then and there.

Ranma badly wanted to slap himself. Or her. It definitely would've been better to keep his mouth shut.

But Akane only blinked at him, looking perplexed. "I'm sorry?"

Taking a deep breath, Ranma tried again. "I mean—Hey Akane," he recited stiffly, his voice strained, not at all smooth like he'd practiced. "W-wanna go for a-for a walk?"

For some reason, that made his dumb sister laugh even harder.

If she'd been closer, Ranma would've kicked her. For now, though, he shot her a withering look from across the table, promising payback.

"What I meant to say is that I need to talk to you," he explained, focusing again on Akane. Which only made her panic more, then abandon his speech altogether. "It's important."

"Oh?" Akane replied with a tilt of her head, intrigued. Then his sister went and ruined it by adding obnoxiously: "Yeah, Ranma. What's sooooo important?"

His gaze remained firmly on Akane.

"Nothing bad. Just, court business," he said, ignoring his sister. Luckily, he had eighteen years of practice.

To compensate and regain his confidence, he puffed out his chest and tried to look important, hoping it would somehow make his request seem more official.

It must have done the trick because Akane nodded. "Alright then," she told him and turned to Ranko with an apologetic smile. "Could you swing by the training grounds and let the others know I'll be a little late this morning?"

"Sure thing," she told her with a salute.

Great, so she could be normal.

Well, normal for her...

"Follow me," he told Akane briskly as he stepped away from the table and led her towards the two fancy double doors across the room. The second they reached the quiet hallway outside, Ranma felt the sweetest relief wash over him.

He couldn't believe part of his plan was already working! Hell, he might pull this off yet.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about?" Akane asked as soon as they were alone. Then, her face paled and her eyes widened. "Oh no, it's not your mother, is it? Is she okay?" She turned her head to look around as if expecting to see his mother passing by on a rescue stretcher.

"No, no! She's fine," Ranma assured her and was shocked by how worried she seemed. He had no clue she'd grown so attached to his mom.

On the other hand, he couldn't help feeling a bit smug about it too.

Did he know how to pick'em or what? If the feeling was mutual, he already had his mom and sister's stamp of approval! And they trumped his old man every time.

At the news, Akane relaxed and put a hand to her chest, calming herself down. "What a relief," she breathed with a sweet little laugh. "I haven't seen her at breakfast the last few days, so. . ."

And once again, Ranma was captivated. That had been happening to him a lot lately.

Usually, it was when she was on the field, though. Kicking ass.

So to snap himself out of it, Ranma quickly glanced away, trying to focus on The Plan. He needed to get back on track, start slow, and then shift to the more serious stuff.

She'd mentioned his mom.

He couldn't be any safer than that.

"Yeah. She's been, um, busy. You know, preparing for the ball."

"The ball?

Err, wait. What the hell was he saying?! Backtrack! Backtrack!

"I called you out here for something else," he told her before she could ask more. "It's just, I wanted to know how things are going. Or not going." He gave her a shy, embarrassed shrug as he very subtly began to lead them towards the inner gardens. "You've been so busy lately, you know? With training and relocating and everything. I know it's been a lot so I wanted to check in. . ."

"Oh," she said as she followed his lead, surprised but pleased. "That's so nice of you, Ranma. Things are going great, actually! I'm really enjoying the practice drills, and all the other trainees—well, most of them," she allowed with an embarrassed laugh, though Ranma knew she meant Shampoo and Mousse. Those two had never really warmed up to her. To anyone, really. Except maybe for Panty face who still couldn't shake the love-sick girl. "But all the Generals are great. Really! I feel like I'm learning so much. They're certainly keeping me on my toes!"

Ranma laughed, realizing what she was referring to.

For the last week, the Generals had been launching a barrage of attacks on the newcomers, striking out when they least expected. Yesterday, Lime had launched a surprise attack on Tsubasa from behind one of his mother's favorite urns.

She hadn't been thrilled when she learned they'd broken it.

But the game had been such a hit, that everyone had started attacking each other in the name of training too. Ranma had never seen so many random battles breaking out all at once.

But he was loving it.

Especially those few times his stupid old man had gotten caught in the crossfire.

"So you're liking it in Wistalia then?" he continued, though what he was actually wondering was: Could you see yourself living here forever?

"I do! So much," she told him, grinning and giddy as Ranma's heart melted at the sight.

"I'm glad," he replied, smiling back at her, because how could he not? Her smile was contagious.

The closer they came to the gardens, though, the more uncertain Ranma became. There was a lot riding on this. And he hadn't thought of what to say once they reached the garden.

He still had to bring up the dance.

And marriage.

And the more he racked his brain, the more he realized how screwed he really was. How the hell was he supposed to go from "So, how are you liking it here?" to "Hey, wanna get hitched and run a kingdom together?"

She'd think he was mental!

The Plan was quickly unraveling all around him and Ranma wasn't quite sure how to salvage it. He was beginning to regret glossing over the whole "talking" part.

Maybe he should have prepared a script. . .

"Um, is anything wrong?" Akane asked as if sensing his turmoil.

"Ha! Wrong? Nah, no, everything's fine," he assured her. And then froze, because, oh shit, they were already there.

The entrance to the garden loomed before them, but now it felt like he was standing before the entrance to a jungle.

"Mood's important too," Ranko had told him when he'd been stupid enough to ask for advice. "You can't depend on just talking. Especially you. You're an idiot."

Well, she'd been partly right.

Which also pissed him off. He wasn't a coward. So why couldn't he just SAY it?!

He was a PRINCE for crying out loud!

"Ranma, are you sure you're okay?"

"Yup. Great. Never been better," he told her, and he swore, he could hear Ranko laughing at him again. Man, was this dumb. It wasn't like him to give up before he'd even begun. "Actually, you know what? There is something I've been meaning to talk to you about. Nothing big. Just, about that ball."

"Oh? What about it? Does your mom need my help?"

Ha, you could say that.

"No, nothing like that. I mean, the ball's dumb. It happens every year, it's mostly a reason for our parents to parade me and Ranko around like a couple of prized cattle, but. . ."

"But that's awful!"

"Yeah." It really was. "But this time it's gonna be a little different," he explained as he nervously leaned against the archway. He was trying to look relaxed, but maybe, secretly, he was using it to keep himself standing.

"Oh? Different how?"

And there it was, the tricky part he'd been dreading. . .

"Well. . ." Fiddling with his fingers, Ranma paused, considering. Which is when a figure jumped out from the other side of the stone archway, having hidden behind the sprawling vines.

"CHARGE!" The figure shouted as they thrust a thorn-covered staff at Akane's head.

Ranma reacted on instinct.

As Akane shifted into a defensive position, ready to fight, he pushed her behind him and shoved the thorny staff aside with his palm. Then with a swift kick to the side, sent their assailant flying through the air.

The body struck the wall and crashed to the floor with a thud. But Ranma didn't have time to admire his handiwork. Once the assailant was neutralized, he quickly turned to Akane, checking her face for injuries. For any cuts from the thorns. "Are you alright?!"

"Honestly! I'm fine," she muttered as she batted his hand away and hurried towards their attacker.

Not away, which would've made sense.

"Akane?!"

"Are you alright?!" She asked, ignoring him as she bent down beside them.

It was only then that Ranma recognized him. Her. It. Whatever.

"Dammit, Tsubasa!" he cursed, realizing they'd been caught in another stupid training assault. Though it was no wonder he hadn't recognized him. The strange jerk was dressed as a potted plant! He was wearing a square beige skirt and had attached an odd-looking branch-hat-thing to his head.

Finally, the dumb staff made sense.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness, sir!" Tsubasa apologized as he picked himself up off the ground and bowed his head. One of the branches on his crown almost fell off. "I didn't mean for you to get caught up in the crossfire! You see, your eminence, I promised dear Akane an epic attack—"

"It was pretty epic," Akane agreed with a reassuring nod. "I didn't even see you coming! Are you alright?"

"Fine as a feather," he told her, which made no sense. Maybe he hit him harder than he thought. "Though truth be told, His Highness sure packs quite the wallop!"

"Well, yeah! You're lucky I didn't kill you!"

"Don't worry, I wouldn't have let him," Akane assured him, before adding cheekily. "Of course, since he did interfere. . ." She turned on Ranma now, who veered back out of sheer reflex. "Which was completely unnecessary, by the way! I had it under control, Ranma!"

Yeah, sure, she did.

"Sorry," he grumbled back.

So she turned to address the weirdo again. "Since he interfered. Unnecessarily. I'm afraid this attack doesn't count. Looks like you'll have to try again!"

"Just you wait! I'll catch you next time!"

"We'll see about that, won't we?"

At the playful banter, Ranma felt his jaw clench. What the—was he seriously jealous of Tsubasa?!

"Yes, we shall! See you at training, Akane!"

After giving her a soldier's salute, the strange boy picked up his potted-shaped monstrosity of a skirt and scurried away, leaving them alone at last.

Once again, Ranma turned back to the tomboy. "He sure is an odd one," he pointed out as the other boy disappeared around the corner.

"No more so than you and your sister," she said with an innocent shrug. But then her eyes widened and she grabbed his arm, looking alarmed. "Oh no! Ranma, you're bleeding! Are you alright?"

Surprised, Ranma followed her gaze to his hand to find she was right: A bit of blood was smeared across his palm. His hand must have gotten cut on one of the thorns of the staff.

"Oh. Didn't even notice. But don't worry, it's just a scratch," he assured her. "Anyway, better me than you."

"That's not funny. I'm supposed to be the one protecting you." And then, to his disbelief, the dummy tore off a piece of her tunic's sleeve and carefully began winding it around his palm.

Ranma watched her work with his heart in his throat, his eyes carefully on her. Even when her wrapping began to get a bit . . . weird. The burgundy cloth bulged thicker than necessary, making his hand look bloated.

But Ranma didn't mind.

It was nice, being fussed over.

"There," said Akane proudly, observing her handiwork with a keen eye. "That ought to last you until the doctor can have a look, at least!"

"Thanks," he told her, his voice soft, even though he planned to rewrap it the second he was alone.

Yet, when Akane finally met his eyes, he saw a tell-tale blush on her face, as if she'd only just realized how close they were. Still, he didn't move away. And neither did she.

Again, unbidden, his gaze drifted to her lips, and this time, they stayed there, ensnared. He could sense the tension in the air between them, the heat of her eyes as she boldly stared back.

"Ranma. . ."

"Akane. . ."

Then, after a few tense moments, she sighed and backed away from him. "I-I should get back to the others," she explained before laughing self-deprecatingly. "Clearly, I haven't trained enough."

With difficulty, Ranma kept his hands firmly at his sides. Please stay danced on his lips and itched in his fingers, the need to keep her there, to preserve this moment, nearly consuming him like a fire.

Yet, all he managed to get out was a pathetic, strained, "Yeah. Okay."

Later, he promised himself.

Thanks to Tsubasa, the atmosphere was officially ruined. All his plans, his terrible speeches, none of that meant anything if she wasn't in the mood to hear them.

"Thanks for the walk, Ranma. I hope you have fun at that ball," she told him as she carefully, guiltily, stepped past him and headed off. But not before pausing right before reaching the corner of the hallway that led east, as if fighting a sudden pressing urge to look back. But then Akane's shoulders stiffened, her resolve returned, and the tomboy continued on her way.

It may have been brief, but that was all the confirmation Ranma needed . . .

Whatever it was that was simmering between them, he knew she felt it too. Something though was holding her back.

Duty? Fear? Uncertainty? Pressure?

He wasn't sure.

But Ranma was determined to find out, and when he did, next time, he wouldn't let her go so easily.

…

Despite Ranma's impressive resolve, ever since their charged moment by the garden, Akane had been avoiding him like the plague. AGAIN.

Except now, she wasn't even trying to hide it.

Yesterday, when he'd tried to approach her after breakfast (which she'd been skipping for days now), she'd stopped in her tracks, eyes wide, then turned and fled in the opposite direction.

And that wasn't even the FIRST time!

What the hell was she even running from? And why? Ranma didn't know, and he wasn't about to go chasing after her either.

A man had his pride, after all.

But thanks to all that wasted time and Akane's stupidity, those final eight days came and went faster than before. Until one day Ranma blinked and the day of the ball had finally arrived.

And he wasn't ready at all.

Today, even his breakfast tasted like failure.

"Alright, moron. Spill," Ranko demanded as she bent down to better glare in his face. "What's got you in such a mood?"

"Nothing," he muttered, pushing away his plate, which probably only proved that there was something wrong.

Nothing got past his sister.

"Yeah right—I'm not an idiot, you know. I've had eighteen YEARS to learn when you're being sketchy! You still having girl trouble? Is this about Akane?"

"Maybe," he muttered.

"Geez. I know your confession failed, but come on! You'll have plenty of chances!"

And that's where she was wrong.

Ranma deflated as he leaned back in his chair. At least the dining hall was empty since Ryoga and Ukyo had just left. Everyone else was busy putting the finishing touches on his future tomb.

"I don't, actually," he grumbled. He was screwed. So screwed, in fact, he was two seconds away from finding his mother and asking her for help.

"Come on, I'm sure it's not that bad."

Ranma laughed without humor. "Trust me, it is," he told her, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I still haven't had a chance to talk to Akane again, and since she's been avoiding me all week, I doubt that's gonna change before tonight. Face it, I'm fucked."

Ranma wasn't expecting much. Not from his sister. Ranko was crap at comforting people, but he would've preferred a punch to the gut over the pathetic pat on the back she gave him instead.

"Can't say I'm surprised. You're not exactly a Casanova, you know, so I figured you'd muck it up."

"Gee, thanks."

"Anyway, don't worry about Akane," she told him with a flippant wave of her hand. "I've already got a plan for that."

"Great. Now I feel loads better," he said, rolling his eyes.

It was no secret they were both shitty manipulators, so chances were good her plan would involve hog-tying Akane and dragging her kicking and screaming to the ballroom against her will.

Which wouldn't help his case any.

The goal was to get Akane to want to stay in Wistalia. Forever. Not send her running for the hills!

"I mean it," Ranko insisted, untroubled by his lack of faith in her. For some reason, she seemed determined to double down on her delusions. "I'll get her to the ball and to the wedding—whatever it takes. Just you watch me!"

That wild look in her eyes was back, a look that promised trouble. And though it probably wasn't his smartest move, really, what other choice did he have? Ranma was running out of options. If Akane rejected him again, then after tonight, his entire life would be ruined.

What if his father made him marry Kodachi?!

"Fine. Not like I have much of a choice anyway. Just, don't do anything too stupid, yeah?"

The sound of his sister chuckling wasn't as comforting as it should've been. "Trust me, Ranma. It's in the bag!"

He hoped she was right. After so many screw-ups, he figured even his flaky twin was due for a bit of good luck. So just this once, he decided to accept her help.

Today, Ranko would be his secret weapon.

And maybe this time, the dork wouldn't swing and miss.

End of Chapter 10