This story goes out to all the wonderful readers and commenters who supported me while posting Stolen Kingdom. I hope you all enjoy this spooky little one shot!
This story is based on the episode "Ghost Quest" fromThe Real Adventures of Johnny Quest.
Akane couldn't look away.
The portrait on the wall bore an eerie resemblance.
Despite years of faded paint and smudged oil, the girl staring back looked exactly like her—she had the same heart-shaped face, deep brown eyes, and rosy cheeks. Even her long hair was tied back by a ribbon just like Akane used to wear it.
Without thinking, she reached up to touch her own short locks as if searching for a phantom limb.
"Geez," said Ranma, exhaling slowly. "She looks just like you, Akane."
"She does, doesn't she," she replied, soft and awed. "But don't you think she looks kind of… sad?"
"Well, yeah," he said, sounding equally subdued. "But who could blame her? Looking like you…"
Akane jabbed him in the ribs—sharp, fast, and well-deserved.
"That there's Miyazaki Akimi," the caretaker explained, his voice low and raspy as he gestured again to the old portrait. "She's the ghost I've been tellin' ya about—the reason I summoned you here today. That poor lass has been haunting these here grounds for nigh two hundred years."
"How sad," Akane murmured, finally tearing her gaze away. "What happened to her?"
"If she's anything like you, stairs were probably involved," said Ranma.
"No, not stairs," said the caretaker seriously as Akane kicked her fiancé hard in the shin. "She was fixin' to marry a sailor boy—Ryu was his name. Fine-looking fella, smart as a tack. Said he'd be back 'fore the next full moon to marry her proper."
Turning the lantern slowly in his hand, the light swept the room, as if searching for something lost.
"But that poor boy never did make it back. Ship got caught in a nasty squall out past the cape. Folks say it went down hard. Ain't no one ever found the wreck. The body neither. But every night, Miss Akimi would haul herself up to widow's peak and stand there, starin' out at the sea. Rain, wind, typhoons—didn't make a lick of difference. Folks say she believed he was comin' back. Swore up and down she'd feel it in her bones if he was gone for good."
Akane's voice dropped, softer now. "And then?"
Masaru lowered his lantern a little, and his voice followed suit.
"And then, one mornin', just 'fore dawn… poor girl went and jumped."
He shook his head sadly.
"Folks say she was still wearin' the ribbon he gifted 'er. White dress, same as in the paintin'. Never found no body. Just that ribbon… all tangled up in the rocks below."
A long silence stretched out after that.
"Quite romantic, in a tragic sort of way," Soun sniffled, wiping at his eyes with a sleeve. "Oh, the aching pain of eternal devotion!"
Akane smiled softly at her father. He would certainly know.
"And that's why we're here?" Genma asked. "To catch this poor tormented soul?"
"Just so. See, I told myself, 'Masaru, if anyone can figure out the low-down, it be them fighter-types.'" He paused for a moment, his eyes shifting from Akane to Ranma, then back again. "I'd say I picked the right kinda people—yes, I would."
Soun nodded. "Yes, well," he added sagely. "Fighting ghosts is a martial artist's duty."
"Indeed it is!" Genma boasted. "Why, ghost-catching is nothing to the Saotome school of Anything Goes martial arts! It would be a great privilege to lend a hand to such a worthy cause."
Ranma scoffed. "Yeah, sure," he replied, rolling his eyes. "And I bet the free room and board, plus meals, had nothing to do with it, did it, Pops?"
"Shut it, boy!" Genma retorted, delivering a swift blow to his son's fool head. Ranma, predictably, responded in kind.
As the two bickered behind them, Akane turned back to the kindly old caretaker. "I'm sorry, but where exactly have you seen this ghost again?"
The old man scratched his head.
"Oh, just about everywhere, I'd reckon. The hallway yonder, for starters," he said, gesturing toward the dark passage just outside the antechamber. "Then there's the old staircase, the lighthouse proper. Some say she hangs out by the marsh 'round back, though I ain't seen it myself." He sighed, his voice dropping lower, tinged with something heavy and sorrowful. "And a'course… her unhappy trek ends at widow's peak."
"Widow's peak, you say," Soun repeated, thoughtfully rubbing his chin as if that mysterious name alone held all the answers.
Akane turned to her father. "What's widow's peak?" She asked, doing her best to ignore the sounds of fighting behind her.
Soun let out a hearty laugh. "Ah, yes. The widow's peak. Steeped in mystery, it is…" He trailed off. And then coughed. "Actually, I haven't a clue… never heard of it before."
"Daaad…"
"In any case," he continued to the caretaker, loudly clearing his throat. "Leave everything to us. If there's a ghost around here, we'll find it."
"Indeed we will," Genma agreed as he climbed to his feet.
"Heh. Bet I find her first," Ranma said with a smirk as he playfully poked Akane's cheek. "We all know what a wuss you are. First sign of a ghost and you'll run outta here like your butt's on fire!"
Akane huffed and swatted his hand away. "I'll take that bet, dummy! Just don't cry when you lose." Turning back to the caretaker, she put on her most pleasant smile. "You said she always ends up at this widow's peak, right? Could you take us there?"
"Certainly, miss. Follow me."
The caretaker hobbled away, his small lantern casting a dim, shivering glow as he led them toward the door.
Unconsciously, Akane glanced back at the portrait one last time. Even in the pale light, it felt like Akimi's eyes were following her.
She tried to shake it off—but the feeling lingered.
Anxious to leave the haunting imagine behind, Akane hurried after her father and Uncle Saotome, although the hallway didn't exactly calm her nerves. The passage was narrow and dimly lit, the lantern's glow sending shifting shadows dancing across the walls as they passed.
"You don't really think it's haunted, do you?" she whispered to Ranma, just grateful he was the one bringing up the rear and not her. Who knew what might be creeping in the shadows behind them?
He shrugged. "Beats me. But if it's anything like that haunted tunnel, I wouldn't be surprised."
"Great," Akane muttered, already regretting her decision to come along.
"Why?" Ranma shot back, flashing her an insufferable grin. "Scared already? Wanna hold my hand?"
He offered it with an exaggerated wiggle of his fingers—purely to annoy her.
Akane turned up her nose. "No thanks," she sniffed, acting braver than she felt. "Remember our bet? If there is a ghost, I'll need my hands free to catch her—and crush you!"
To drive her point home, she stuck out her tongue.
"Yup. Still uncute," Ranma muttered, lacing his hands behind his head as they walked along.
Despite her bravado, though, Akane didn't feel brave.
Not at all.
This place was creepy.
She really should've known better than to tag along. After a year of this nonsense, you'd think she'd have learned. But Ranma was always baiting her. All it took was a smug grin or a taunting look, and she was putty in his hands.
This morning was proof.
"What's the matter, tomboy?" he'd teased, eyes glinting with challenge as he adjusted his backpack. "Scared? Can't handle a friendly little ghost hunt?"
So of course—of course—Akane couldn't let that slight go! She'd laced up her boots, grabbed her pack, and loudly insisted on coming along.
Clearly she'd lost her mind.
What in the world had she been thinking?!
She could be at home right now, warm and cozy beneath the kotatsu, watching scary movies where all the monsters and ghosts stayed harmlessly on the screen. Instead, here she was, heading for a supernatural hotspot in a haunted lighthouse, chasing a ghost that—for some bizarre reason—looked exactly like her, and could appear at any moment!
Honestly! Akane hated stuff like this.
And to make matters worse, the caretaker's lantern kept flickering.
Once. Then twice.
Each time, the shadows on the walls stretched and twisted—bending in ways they shouldn't. And each time, her heart jumped, tightening in her chest. Until, finally, it happened.
With one last, pathetic flicker, the flame sputtered and died.
The passageway was plunged into total darkness.
And Akane froze, her feet refusing to go another inch… because in that void, she saw it: The shape of a man cloaked in shadows. Pale, tall, and still.
Like Ranma… but not.
Terrified, she screamed and jumped back, latching on to the closest, sturdiest thing she could find—an arm, warm and solid—and held on for dear life.
Just as suddenly, the lantern's flame roared back to life.
And the figure was gone.
"Sorry 'bout that, dearie," the caretaker chuckled, glancing over his shoulder. "Drafty old house, this is. Blasted thing does it all the time!"
"Or perhaps the ghosts are stirring," mused her father with a grave nod. "More than likely, they sensed our presence and awoke."
"As they should," Genma replied, nodding along. "A few measly ghosts are hardly cause for concern. They'd be wise to fear us, eh, Tendo?"
"Quite right," her father agreed as they shared a laugh that was too forced, too loud, to be genuine.
But, before she could tell them to please stop antagonizing the ghosts, Ranma spoke up beside her—quiet, almost tentative.
"H-hey," he said, his voice softer than normal. "You afraid of the dark now, too?"
Akane lifted her head to find him staring down at her—way too close. Which is when she realized she hadn't merely grabbed his arm in her fright, she'd practically wrapped herself around it!
"S-sorry!" Akane yelped, jerking her hands away and scrambling back like she'd touched open flame.
Great! Now, he'd have even more to tease her about!
"I-it's no problem."
Akane swallowed hard, still shaken, and then recalled the figure she'd seen in the dark. "Wait… Ranma. Did you see that just now?"
The dummy made a huge show of rolling his shoulders. "See what? I was too busy trying to keep my arm from snapping off."
Her fist was half-raised, prepared to strike, when something strange started happening again—suddenly, the air turned frigid. Faint puffs of mist formed in the air with every icy breath.
"Forget to pay the heating?" Genma joked with a shiver.
Masaru merely sucked in a sharp breath. "The lady comes…"
As if summoned, a large ball of light blinked into existence before them, pulsing softly in the dim hall.
Spellbound, Akane watched as it expanded, stretching outward until the shape of a woman emerged—a flowing white dress, piercing brown eyes, dark hair tied back by a ribbon—and a face eerily similar to Akane's own.
They were staring at Akimi.
And Akimi was staring at Ranma.
Her eyes widened in horror at the sight of him, and her face twisted with fear—fear and something else. Something indiscernible.
Then, Akimi turned sharply and bolted toward the stairs.
"H-hey!" Ranma sputtered and raced after her.
"That's right, Ranma!" Genma cheered from where he'd plastered himself against the wall. "Go get her, son!"
Confused, and then engaged, Akane tore after them, the walls passing by in a chaotic blur that made her head spin. But once she caught up, she shouted over the sound of their footsteps: "What in the world did you do to that ghost, Ranma?!"
Ranma whipped his head around to stare at her in disbelief. "What the heck are you talking about? She died nearly two hundred years ago!"
Oh. Right.
For a second there, she figured she was another jilted fiancée with a grudge.
But if she wasn't, why the strange reaction?
As they hit the stairs running, Akane didn't have time to dwell on it. The steps were narrow, crooked, and steep, but they didn't dare stop. The only thing guiding them onward was Akimi's eerie ghost light and fluttering white dress, as bright as any beacon.
And at the very top, widow's peak.
The balcony doors were already open, thrown wide as if to welcome them in.
(Or warn them away.)
Ranma reached the peak several steps ahead of her, and there, teetering dangerously on the railing was Akimi. She looked trapped. Terrified. The wind whipped around her as she swayed unsteadily on her feet, her long white dress fluttering like a torn cloth around her.
The balcony overlooked a sheer cliff, and her eyes darted wildly between Ranma and the crashing waves below. Her mouth kept moving, forming silent words.
"You-you're Akimi, right—?"
Ranma took a cautious step towards her.
"Ranma, wait!" Akane cried, but it was too late.
Akimi took a frightened step backward, her ghostly slipper meeting only air. Then, like a shockwave bursting, she was thrown into the air and sent tumbling over the edge.
There was no scream.
Just a sudden rush of wind as it howled past, sharp and hollow, like the breath of something ancient and grieving.
They rushed towards the railing together.
But below, there was only mist.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke, but as their fathers' footsteps pounded up the stairs behind them, Ranma and Akane exchanged a look.
"Um," Ranma began uncertainly. "Neither of us caught her, so… this doesn't count, right?"
Akane considered it for a beat, then gave him a silent nod of approval.
Behind them, Genma wheezed loudly, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. "So… you two…" He sucked in another breath.
"What did… we miss?" Soun finished.
…
After that first sighting, it didn't take long for the old caretaker to wave his metaphorical white flag and cut the tour short.
"Old Masaru knows when he best be makin' himself scarce, if ya know what I mean. Best of luck to you fine folk… I'll check on ya in the mornin'." Then he added, so low they barely heard him: "If there's anything left to find, that is."
Akane pretended she hadn't heard that last part.
And just like that, it was just the four of them again. Unless you counted the ghost.
Akane shivered at the thought.
"Still cold?" Ranma asked, tossing another log onto the fire.
"I'm alright," she said quickly, though she regretted not changing before coming along. A short skirt and old worn out sweater weren't exactly ideal for mid-October.
So to distract herself, Akane fiddled with the lantern's knob, adjusting the glow. At least the caretaker had left them that.
Still, all things considered, she was happy with their cozy little hideaway. They'd set up their base in the small library on the second floor, fighting the chill with a modest fire and what comfort they could find.
Their fathers had even found a dusty old go board.
Not that they were using it.
Instead, they were huddled in a corner, whispering furiously and tossing not-so-subtle glances in their direction. It didn't take a genius to figure out they were up to something.
Eventually, her father cleared his throat, stood up with great ceremony, and clapped Ranma on the shoulder.
"Well, now. I think you two can take it from here."
Ranma narrowed his eyes at him just as Akane shot to her feet.
"Dad!"
"I knew you two were up to something," Ranma muttered, brushing off his hands as he stood.
"It's for your own good, boy," Genma insisted, puffing out his chest. "We can't be holding your hand forever! Surely you can handle one measly ghost."
Without warning, Soun placed a hand on her shoulder. "Consider this bridal training, Akane."
Bridal training?!
Ranma scoffed. "Ya know what? Maybe you're right, Pops."
"Of course I am."
"He is?" Akane growled, scowling at her father's hand. Thinking better of it, Soun quickly pulled it back with a nervous chuckle and stepped carefully away.
But Genma wasn't as bright as her father. He stood firm.
Ranma cracked his knuckles as he approached. "Why not show us how it's done, old man?!"
His father didn't even have time to move.
Ranma struck, driving a sharp kick straight into his chest and sending him crashing into the far wall with a loud, painful-sounding THUMP.
Even Akane cringed.
"How stupid do you think we are?!" Ranma shouted after him.
Genma could only groan as he slid down the wall. But something shifted behind him—and there was a soft click. A hidden panel popped loose, and a small door creaked open.
"What in the world?" Akane murmured, stepping over her future father-in-law to get a better look. Inside were letters. A huge stack of them.
"Huh. Weird," Ranma said as she began to extract them with care. There were several weathered piles tied together with brittle ribbon.
The two of them sat down on the floor to go through them together, the firelight casting soft shadows across the pages.
Akane carefully unfolded the top one.
"My dearest Akimi," she read aloud, her voice soft. "Oh… these must be love letters."
She blushed, feeling rather shy. There was something deeply personal about this kind of writing—something so intimate felt like it should remain private. On the other hand, they needed answers and this might be the only way to get them.
Ranma, however, had no such qualms. "Figures. All that buildup for some mushy love notes?"
"There might be something useful here," Akane told him, feeling oddly protective.
"Doubt it," said Ranma, already losing interest. "Not unless she left a suicide note or something."
Akane frowned. "I don't think that was on purpose, Ranma. She looked terrified. Someone chased her there—they causedher to fall."
He paused, recalling the way Akimi had looked at him both times—wide-eyed. Fearful. Definitely spooked. "Yeah. You're probably right," he said at last, his voice low. "That wasn't someone who wanted to jump."
A heavy silence settled between them. For a moment, it was just the sharp crackle of the fire and the distant howl of the wind.
Then—a sharp sniffle broke the quiet.
They turned.
Despite their earlier threats to leave, their parents were still very much present—and apparently eavesdropping.
Soun was dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief, looking deeply moved. "Isn't it beautiful, Saotome? Their hearts and minds—already as one."
"Indeed it is," agreed Genma, still hunched over. "I can practically hear the church bells now."
Ranma groaned. "Jeez, would you two give it a rest? If you wanna go, then GO already!"
"It's not like you've been helping," Akane added, in complete agreement for once.
Soun sniffled again. "See that? They want to be alone…"
"All our dreams are coming true, Tendo," Genma blubbered, beginning to sob himself.
Akane rolled her eyes. "Honestly! You're both ridiculous."
Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to the letter. "My dearest Akimi," she continued. "These long days at sea are a torment without you. I long to gaze upon your beauty and—"
"Oh! So he was blind," Ranma interrupted, smacking his fist in his palm.
Akane glared at him and swatted him with the letter.
"Idiot."
Clearing her throat, she resumed reading. "Every night, I ache to be near you. I can't forget you, my love—certainly not that beautiful night we shared beneath the stars. I dream of the way you trembled beneath my touch, the warmth of your breath on my skin, the feel of your hand as it slipped beneath—"
Akane froze.
Her face went bright red. She absolutely refused to look at Ranma—but she was certain his face wasn't faring much better.
"Um… m-maybe I should skip to the end." Hastily, she cleared her throat and read the closing lines instead. "All my love, Ryu."
Silence followed.
Then—the quiet clack of a stone.
By the fire, their fathers had, in fact, started up another game of go. Apparently, even a nearly two-hundred-year-old murder mystery couldn't compete with a rousing battle of stones.
"Idiots…" Ranma muttered, echoing her own thoughts.
"No, no—but this is good," Akane said quickly, giving the letter a little shake to refocus him. "Ryu was the name of her fiancé, right? The sailor?"
"Yeah. So?"
"So—obviously, they were really in love. That means someone else must have been here that night. A spurned lover? An angry servant?"
"A debt collector?"
"Funny."
Ranma smirked as he picked up another letter from the pile—only this time, he knew better than to read it aloud.
Akane quietly did the same.
Most of them were like the first—filled with passionate declarations and promises, brimming with unmistakable longing. There were even a few from Akimi herself, sealed but never sent, written while he'd been at sea.
But one letter in particular caught her eye.
"Ranma, look at this!"
The handwriting was unfamiliar—not Akimi's, not Ryu's—and even the ink was a different shade.
"I don't think this was written by either of them," she said, scooting closer so he could see. "It does start in a similar way—'My dearest, beloved Ryu'—but look here? It's signed by someone named Misao."
Ranma gave a low whistle. "Uh oh. Looks like the sea wasn't the only thing getting stormy around—"
He stopped.
Mid-sentence, his breath curled into the air, misting in front of him. "Uh… did the fire go out?"
Akane glanced at the fireplace, but it was still burning bright—and yet, the temperature had obviously plummeted. Her breath fogged the air too, cold and sharp.
Then, just as suddenly, that strange ball of energy returned.
It flared to life right in the middle of the library.
Across the room, the go board toppled, scattering stones across the floor as everyone jumped to their feet.
"So. She returns…" Soun intoned, taking a step back.
The air shimmered. Light pulsed outward, warping the space around it. And like before, her shape began to reform—glowing, flickering, shifting—until Akimi was standing before them once again.
Ranma exhaled slowly beside her, eyes fixed on the ghost. "Damn, she really does look like you."
Akane's skin prickled. It was easier to see the resemblance now, when the ghost wasn't howling or screaming at them.
"Thanks," she hissed, afraid to move. "So helpful."
But this time, Akimi didn't even glance in Ranma's direction. Her gaze locked on the letter in Akane's hand, and stayed there.
"Err… perhaps it's wise to drop that letter, Akane," her father said, his voice tight with worry.
But before Akane could move, Akimi's eyes flared, burning red—and she lunged.
"Akane!"
Ranma's voice rang out a split second before he slammed into her, tackling her to the ground. The air around them surged, buzzing with strange energy as he shielded her with his body.
In the chaos, the stack of letters went flying, scattering across the floor like leaves in a storm.
For a second, Akane lay there, stunned. Her heart was pounding as Ranma's weight pressed into her, his breath warm against her cheek, despite the cold.
She could no longer see the ghost.
Then he shifted, pushing himself up, and she caught the flicker of something glinting near his foot in the firelight. A photograph, half-buried beneath the scattered pages.
Ranma followed her gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly.
But she didn't have time to wonder why.
"I'll lead her away," Akane said quickly, already scrambling to her feet.
"Wait, stupid!" Ranma called, only pausing for a second before scrambling after her. "Don't go off on your—"
She never heard the rest.
She barely made it three steps. The letter was still clutched in Akane's hand when it happened.
Akimi slammed into her. And the world went white.
…
Ranma could only watch—frozen, horrified—as Akane's body jerked mid-step.
A burst of pale light exploded around her, flaring like lightning. Her back arched, her mouth opening in a silent gasp. Then her eyes flew wide—burning bright red.
"Akane!" he choked, heart slamming against his ribs as he took a panicked step towards her. "No—no, no, no—dammit!"
"Oh, Akane! My daughter! Possessed by an evil wraith!" Soun wailed, clutching his head as he ran in frantic circles. "Oh! What will become of my little girl?!"
Ranma barely registered him.
He didn't dare move.
Even without the glowing red eyes and crazy light show, he knew.
Akane was gone.
He knew because the girl standing in front of him—this girl with her fists clenched and her chest heaving—wasn't looking at him the way Akane ever had. Not even during their worst fights. Not even when he said something really, really stupid.
This was different.
This was raw. Unfiltered. A look that hit him like a punch to the gut. His throat tightened at the sight of it.
"A-Akane?"
He couldn't tell which burned hotter—panic or fury. Because, dammit, she better be okay in there!
"Ryu," she breathed. And it was Akane's voice, but not. It was deeper. Solemn. Laced with grief and disbelief.
Ranma's eyes widened. She thought he was Ryu?
Then she recoiled like he'd struck her. Like he was the ghost.
"No… no, it can't be," she whispered, backing up a step. Her gaze darted, panicked. "You can't be here. You're supposed to be dead!"
"W-wha—?"
Before Ranma could even process what she was saying, Akane's pretty face twisted in terror.
She staggered back, then turned and ran.
"W-wait! Akane!"
Cursing under his breath, Ranma bolted after her. He didn't need to guess where she was going.
She was headed towards the widow's peak.
…
Ranma kept her in sight the entire way. He supposed he should be grateful. At least the eerie glow his fiancé had inherited from her unwanted possession helped light the way.
Not that it made much difference.
Even in the tomboy's body, the ghost was fast.
No matter how hard he pushed himself, by the time Ranma reached the top of the stairs, she was already there—teetering on the railing, arms outstretched for balance.
From up high, she stared down at him—fear blazing in her eyes.
And she wasn't the only one.
Ranma swallowed hard, real fear tightening around his chest like a vice, his heart in his throat.
"Please," he said, voice unsteady. "Please, come down…"
This time, he didn't dare move a muscle. He couldn't risk scaring her, not after what happened last time.
He couldn't risk Akane falling into that damned mist…
So of course, that's when their idiot fathers arrived—loud, frantic, and in Soun's case, wailing—as he begged the "vile demon" to release his little girl.
"You're not helping," he hissed, not taking his eyes off the tomboy.
Thankfully, she barely seemed to hear them.
"I don't regret it!" Akane shouted as if stuck in a loop, her voice shaking as she frantically glanced between him and the crashing surf below. "I don't, you know! You deserved to drown and die in that marsh you loved so much!"
Ranma had no clue what the hell she was talking about.
She might as well be shouting into the wind like before.
"Please," he tried again. "I'm not him, Akane—Akimi—" He didn't even know which name to use, which one would get her to come down faster. "Please… we can talk about this."
"No! Stay back!" She shrieked, arms flailing, like she was fighting off a figure only she could see.
That's when Ranma decided—fuck waiting.
The second her balance shifted, he moved. Driven by instinct and desperation, he grabbed her arm before that strange shockwave could hit—
And pulled.
Akane tumbled into his arms, nearly knocking them both off balance. Ranma staggered back, his grip tightening, and then his back hit the cold stone wall of the house, anchoring them both.
And finally, finally, she was back on the balcony, back on solid ground.
Relief crashed over him so hard that his legs practically gave out. Ranma sank to the floor, bringing Akane along with him, physically incapable of letting her go.
He was too scared.
What if she tried to jump again?!
Only when she was curled safely against him, breath warm and steady against his neck, did Ranma finally exhale. A deep, ragged breath. He pulled her closer and leaned his head against the wall as his hammering heart slowly began to settle.
Her eyes were closed.
Like the ghost were slumbering.
Soun collapsed to his knees beside them, eyes watery and shining. "Thank you, son," he murmured, placing a trembling hand on his daughter's shoulder—as if he needed to feel she was safe, too.
Was she, though?
Was the ghost asleep? Still inside her? Would she try again now that she'd failed? And why the hell did she look so much like Akane in the first place?!
Could that be why she was targeted?
Or had there been others before now? Others who had thrown themselves from this same cursed balcony?
Ranma clenched his jaw, his heart still pounding. Why the hell hadn't he asked the caretaker more questions?! How could he drag Akane into something so dangerous when he didn't even know what they were dealing with?
That had been way too fucking close.
He hadn't been that scared since… since Jusendo…
His arms tightened around Akane before he could stop himself, holding her like she might vanish if he let go. His breath was shaky, his chest aching, his whole body humming with leftover panic.
He buried his face in her hair and shut his eyes.
Never again, he promised himself.
He stayed like that for a moment, letting the panic ebb, the sound of waves and wind slowly grounding him—for once, he didn't care that their fathers were there too, that they'd likely give him crap about this later on.
He didn't have time to dwell on any of it, anyway; Ranma blinked and looked down as something small fluttered near his foot.
A photo.
The same photo in the library he'd grabbed on a whim. He wasn't sure why. Something about it had just pulled at him.
And now, here it was again.
Ranma reached over to pick it up, his breath catching as he finally got a good look.
The man in the photograph—the resemblance was uncanny. He was older, sure—like Akimi seemed slightly older than Akane—but the eyes, the shape of his jaw, even the low ponytail…
It was like looking in a mirror.
Was this guy Ryu?
Curious, Ranma flipped it over. Scrawled across the back, in faded ink and terrible handwriting: I'll always remember that night…
He frowned. Seriously? Was this some kinda cheesy keepsake?
"Err, son…"
His father's panicked voice was the only warning he got.
Another ball of energy flickered to life before them, right in the corner of the balcony. Like before, it expanded and twisted, taking human form right before their eyes.
Only this time, it wasn't Akimi who emerged.
Ranma found himself staring at Ryu's silvery form instead.
The ghost's eyes, so much like his own, locked onto the photograph in his hand… and then they darkened. Red as blood.
"Oh shit—" Ranma breathed, just as the figure barreled towards him.
Then a blinding white light washed the world away.
…
For a moment, time stopped—then stuttered, like it wasn't quite sure how to begin again. Wind howled slow and steady against the balcony railing, salt sharp in the air. Far below, waves slammed against the cliffs in a relentless, echoing roar.
Ranma sensed all of this. Yet it somehow felt distant. Hazy. Like he was seeing the world through fogged glass.
But then he saw Akane… and everything snapped into startling clarity.
The tomboy stood a few feet away, moonlight tangled in her hair, face pale and still. Her fists were clenched in the folds of her short skirt, eyes locked on his—wide, glassy, too bright.
And still glowing red.
Ranma wanted to move towards her—to block her from the balcony, at least. But his body wouldn't cooperate. It refused to move the way he wanted it to.
That's when he remembered… the ghost rushing towards him, that brief flash of light.
Oh. Ryu had latched on somehow, like some kinda parasite.
HE had control now.
That must be why everything felt so off. So muted.
Ranma's chest was tight with fear and rage… but it didn't burn the way it usually did. It simmered low, twisted up with something older. Sadder.
Feelings that weren't entirely his.
The ghost's emotions pulsed through him, intermingling with his own—fury laced with guilt, desperation blurred with love, longing weighed down by regret.
All of it tangled up in the girl standing before him.
Although Ryu ached to reach out for her, he couldn't quite bring himself to.
Doubt stayed his hand.
"Akimi," he breathed, though his voice was deeper than Ranma's. Heavier. Like it had carried sorrow for centuries.
Akane—no, Akimi—flinched at the sound. Then blinked, as if waking from a dream. "Ryu?" she whispered again, a touch of fear returning.
She took a step back—uncertain, frightened.
And it stung.
Ranma felt Ryu's pain bleed through as she retreated.
Now that he knew what to look for, Ranma felt it all—that other, deeper presence. Something old. Heavy. Pained. Grief pressed against his ribs like a weight, so many words begging to be spoken.
And then, Ryu took his first stolen step.
"It's really me," he said quietly, afraid to startle her.
This time, she didn't run. She couldn't. Her back was already pressed against the wall of the house. So she stared at him, breathing hard, body stiff with tension, with nowhere to go.
Something flickered behind her glowing red eyes—uncertainty, grief.
Or maybe just pain too old to name.
Then her lips parted.
"I saw the letter, Ryu," she said, voice raw and shaking. "I saw the picture—Misao broke down and told me everything. How you gave her your likeness, how you planned to call off the engagement and run away together!" Her lips trembled, and then her voice cracked. "Your writing is right there on the back—after all these years, do you deny it?!"
The sadness and fury in her voice was like a physical blow.
He actually took a step back.
Back when he first awoke in the cold, dark depths of the marsh—confused, horrified, betrayed—Ryu had suspected as much. But even he hadn't thought Misao would stoop so low.
"With all my heart," he said, firm and steady. "That photograph was for you… not her. Never her. I was never unfaithful, Akimi."
"Liar!" she shouted with a shake of her head. "Lying always came naturally to you—even now, you lie!"
"I would never lie about that." He opened his hand, the small, worn photograph still clutched within. "This keepsake was for you, my love. I had it taken the day you agreed to marry me. Misao must have stolen it."
"No! That's—" Her voice hitched. "Why would she even—"
"She was furious when I turned her down," he explained. "She wanted to ruin us."
Her eyes widened, just slightly, as if the weight of his words had struck something buried deep.
Her expression faltered.
"If that's true… then she did," she replied, her voice cracking as she turned away. "I killed you, Ryu. I thought the tonic was harmless—Misao promised it was. It was only meant to coax the truth from you, force you to admit it was my family's wealth you were after all along. But, when you didn't wake, when your pulse…"
She swallowed hard. Barely able to speak as she wrapped her arms around her stomach.
"It was my fault. I was frightened and panicked. I dragged you to the marsh. I-I let you sink beneath its waves. Everyone thought you were lost at sea, but—"
"You were tricked," Ryu said slowly, stepping closer. Sorrow wrapped around every word—for her, for himself, for what they'd lost. "It was an accident. It was as much my fault as it was yours."
He hesitated, pain flickering in his eyes. "I should have told you about Misao's obsession right from the start. But I was afraid you wouldn't believe me… afraid you'd listen to your parents and call off the engagement once and for all. And she knew that. She used it." A breath caught in his throat. "She said she'd make me pay. That I'd regret my choice. I just… I never imagined the cost would be this."
The air shimmered between them, like a memory trying to take form. And the glow that had followed Akane since the possession pulsed brighter.
Her face crumpled.
"I've been reliving it for so long now, Ryu. Every night, I watch you die. Again and again. Then I wander these cold, lifeless halls, haunted by the ghost of you…"
"I've been chasing you," he said softly, stepping closer. He reached out, his fingers trembling as they brushed her cheek. "Trying to understand… to tell you the truth."
His heart trembled—Ranma felt it. And his heart trembled in response.
She leaned into his touch. "I should have trusted you."
"And I should have trusted you…"
"I would rather drown a thousand more times than face another day without you," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "I never stopped loving you, Ryu. I'm so sorry."
He brushed her tears away with his fingers, his touch tender. "I forgive you, Akimi."
Their love was so fierce, so deep, it filled Ranma's chest and dragged him under. He couldn't tell where he ended and Ryu began. Their pain, their longing—it pulsed through him like it was his own.
This was love. Real, lasting. Even death couldn't destroy it.
All hesitation vanished.
As Akimi's hands reached for him, Ryu's arms found her waist and pulled her closer. Their foreheads touched, and for a moment, they could hear the waves. The marsh. The silence between heartbeats.
Finally, inevitably, their lips met.
Soft and warm and right.
A purifying sweetness enveloped them, erasing all the fury and hate, transforming every last misunderstanding into light—bright and blinding and burning gold—like dawn after the longest night.
Akimi's ribbon drifted gently to the balcony below and vanished.
And just like that, the ghostly lovers were gone.
…
Back in Japan, in an old haunted lighthouse, on a balcony overlooking a cliff… not all the magic had faded.
Ranma and Akane were still kissing… still caught in the echo of everything they'd felt. Until finally, as if waking from a dream themselves, they broke apart—breathless, blinking.
Their eyes met, and in that charged stillness, their names fell from the other's lips.
"Akane…"
"Ranma…"
And from the sidelines, a cheer erupted.
"Good going, my boy!" Genma roared, shattering the moment. "Did you see that, Tendo? The passion! The commitment!"
"It's enough to bring a tear to this proud father's eye," Soun sniffled, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief.
Ranma and Akane had never backpedaled so fast in their lives!
"I—it wasn't like that!" Ranma shouted, stumbling back.
"Honestly! We were possessed," Akane yelled at her father, face flaming. "That wasn't even us!"
"Yes. And a very magical possession it was," Soun intoned, nodding solemnly. "Wouldn't you say, Saotome?"
"Absolutely! Why, our schools are practically joined already!"
The two fathers burst out laughing, as giddy as schoolchildren.
Ranma and Akane turned away at once—arms crossed, cheeks flaming. But in the quiet that followed, while their fathers continued congratulating themselves and headed for the stairs, Ranma risked a glance.
Akane was already looking.
And this time… neither of them looked away.
…
Back in the library, the tension of the balcony had faded. The roaring wind outside had quieted, leaving the crackling fire and scent of something warm and dusty filling the room.
Ranma sat cross-legged on an old rug, a cup of tea cooling in his hands as Akane entered with a plate piled high with biscuits, chips, and rice crackers.
"I doubt we'll see our parents for a while," she said, setting the plate beside him. "They finally found the kitchen and all that free food the caretaker promised. Right now, they're celebrating with a drink."
Ranma nodded, distracted, and took a cracker—but didn't eat it. He turned it over in his hands, sneaking a glance at Akane like he wanted to say something but wasn't quite sure how.
Not that the tomboy noticed. "So," she began, her voice heavy. "Do you think they could've been us? From a past life, I mean?"
Ranma blinked in surprise. "Huh?"
"Well. Them looking so much like us, it couldn't just be a coincidence, could it?"
"Oh. That." Ranma huffed a laugh and twirled the cracker absently between his fingers. "I doubt it's related. You seriously think either of us would be that dumb or pathetic?" He shook his head and gave her a sideways look. "Besides, let's be real. If Akimi was anything like you, then that guy was doomed from the start. Even if she hadn't poisoned his food, her cooking would've done him in eventually…"
For once, Akane didn't rise to the bait. Instead, she went quiet.
Thoughtful.
"I wonder what happened with Misao," she replied. "It just seems… unfair, doesn't it? They both lost their lives because of her jealousy while she got away unscathed."
"Nah. I'm sure she got hers." Ranma leaned back against the armchair and chuckled. "Karma can be a real bitch, y'know? Hell, maybe she fell into Jusenkyo and came out a cockroach or something…"
Akane laughed softly. "I could live with that."
Before long, the room grew quiet again; the only sounds the soft crackle of the fire and the occasional sounds of snacking.
But Ranma was still troubled, and subtlety had never been his strong suit.
Akane noticed, of course.
"Is something else bothering you?" She asked with a curious tilt of her head. And added—just a touch too casually, "Was it the kiss?"
Ranma choked on his cracker, coughing violently as his face lit up like a flare.
"W-why would I care about that?" he muttered, still half-choking and not quite meeting her eyes. "Neither of us were in our right minds…"
"Exactly. So what is it, then?" Akane pressed. "Something's bothering you."
"It's nothing," Ranma insisted, then immediately betrayed himself with a heavy sigh. "Okay, fine… yeah. I am mad. Just not about that."
He looked down, fingers tightening around the edge of his cup. "I'm sorry for dragging you here, Akane. For pressuring you to come. I thought… I thought you'd be safer if I was close by. But obviously, that didn't work out so great."
Akane blinked at him, confused.
"Wait. You thought I'd be safer… in a haunted house? Surrounded by ghosts?"
Ranma scowled and took another angry bite of his cracker.
"Well, yeah. It's not like you were safe at home either! Last time I left, you got kidnapped by a murder of crows!" He waved a hand vaguely in the air. "At least here, I could keep an eye on you…"
For a second, Akane just stared at him. Her mouth had fallen open slightly, eyes wide in a way that made Ranma shift uncomfortably.
What? Had he said something weird?
Then—she smiled. Not one of her usual smug grins or teasing smirks, but something softer. Warmer. Almost shy.
Ranma's ears went hot.
"So," she said slowly, that strange little smile still on her lips, "you were worried about me? That much?"
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.
"I mean… I guess?" he muttered, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. "If something had happened while you were possessed—if you'd fallen off that stupid balcony—"
"You would've saved me," she said simply.
Like it was a fact. Like it was obvious.
No hesitation. No teasing. Just faith.
Ranma's chest tightened. "Yeah," he said, quiet but sure. "I would have."
"That's all that matters, then." And before he could say anything else, she leaned in, swiped a cracker right out of his hand, and took a big bite.
Ranma tried not to watch how her lips closed around it, but…
"Now, about our bet," she said, smugness creeping in. "I win, wouldn't you say?"
Heh. That certainly got his attention back on track.
"You?" Ranma actually laughed—disbelieving, breathless. "How the hell do you figure that? It's not like being possessed counts!"
"And why not?" Akane crossed her arms, an adorably defiant pout on her lips—which, seriously… unfair. "You never specified how the catching had to happen. And since I caught her in MY body first, that means I won! Right? Right?"
Ranma stared at her, his mouth open.
Dammit. That dirty, word-twisting cheat!
"Fine," he muttered, defeated. "Congrats, I guess."
Her eyes sparkled. "So," she asked brightly, "what do I win?"
Ranma shrugged, no longer interested now that victory had slipped away. He'd only wanted to beat her for bragging rights anyhow.
"I don't know," he said, lazily. "What d'ya want?"
Akane tapped her chin, considering. Then a smile bloomed across her face—bright, mischievous—and Ranma's breath caught.
"I think I know," she said.
And leaning in, pressed her lips to his for the second time that night.
It was soft. And sweet. And way too short.
But in that brief moment, Ranma knew true magic.
When she pulled back, her eyes were shining, and as Ranma's heart raced, he couldn't stop staring at her lips. "There," she said, smiling proudly. "Now you have no reason to be sorry. About any of it."
Then, as if she hadn't just turned his brain to mush, the smug tomboy stood and tugged him to his feet. "Now, come on, dummy," she said, still grinning. "I want to go see the lighthouse!"
At this point, Ranma could do little more than allow himself to be pulled along. But as he followed—lips pleasantly tingling, heart still on fire—he decided that maybe losing wasn't so bad after all.
Who knew kissing Akane would be considered a penalty?!
'course, with kissing now on the table, the stakes had just gotten a hell of a lot higher. That dork had no idea what kinda war she'd just unleashed.
But luckily, Ranma could play dirty too.
And next time, he definitely planned to win…
THE END
A/N: Thanks to my friend and beta reader: Luna12! All mistakes are my own! (I went crazy and rewrote a ton of it before posting)
If you haven't read her stories yet (or have) check them out! They're all amazing! I'm partial to Of Loss, Life & Love and her most recent one shot, Jump-Scares and Heart Flares was terrific!