They returned to the inn just as the afternoon sun began its descent. The evening air was cool, carrying the refreshing breeze of the approaching night. The lanterns outside the inn flickered, casting long, wavering shadows across the courtyard. Somewhere in the distance, the muffled hum of the town winding down for the night could still be heard—laughing voices from the festival preparations, the occasional clatter of closing shops stalls, the faint strains of music rehearsals drifting through the air. But here outside the inn, it was quiet.
Ryoga sat on the wooden steps of the courtyard, his elbows resting on his knees, fingers absentmindedly turning the small, black-and- gold pendant over with his fingers. The tiger's carved features caught the lantern light, shadows dancing across its polished stone surface.
Why a tiger?
He frowned, brows drawing together as he stared at the tiny gold-accented paws, feeling their smooth weight against his fingers. Of all things, why had Ukyo looked at him and thought,Yeah, Ryoga Hibiki reminds me of a tiger?Didn't she call him a creep the night before? She knew about his curse—knew what he turned into. A pig. Small, harmless, embarrassing. The absolute opposite of a tiger.
He scoffed, gripping the pendant tighter. He doesn't understand her sometimes.
"…You'll wear it out at this rate."
Ryoga nearly jumped at the voice, jerking his head up just as Ukyo stepped into view. She was leaning against the porch post, arms crossed, watching him with that easy smirk.
He scowled, shoving the pendant into his pocket. 'I wasn't—"
Ukyo raised a brow. He huffed, looking away.
She pushed off the post and walked over, lowering herself to sit beside him. She stretched her legs in front of her, rolling her shoulders as if shaking off the remaining bit of the day's exhaustion. The soft lantern glow brushed against her features, highlighting the sharp line of her jaw, the way a few stray strands of brown hair fell loose from her ponytail. Ryoga leaned back slightly, suddenly too aware of her presence beside him.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Just the quiet rhythm of the night. Then—Ukyo tilted her head toward him.
"So, what's got you looking like a kicked puppy?"
Ryoga scoffed. "I don't look like a—"
"You do." She grinned, nudging his arm lightly, playfully. "You look so serious. More than your usual."
Ryoga stared up at the sky, contemplative. "I was just…thinking."
Ukyo hummed. "That's dangerous."
"Ha Ha. Very funny."
She grinned but didn't push. Instead, she leaned back with her hands behind her. "Long day, huh?
Ryoga exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. 'Yeah."
Ukyo chuckled. "You mean yeah, as in 'I had a great time' or yeah, as in 'I wish I punched the overly friendly merchant guy in the face'?"
Ryoga's jaw tightened slightly, remembering the overly smug man from town. "I wasn't going to punch him."
"Really?"
"Probably."
Ukyo laughed, her voice light, a little knowing. He wasn't sure what annoyed him more: that she kept laughing or that a small part of him liked hearing it.
"He was flirting," said Ryoga.
Ukyo looked at him, surprised at the seriousness of his tone. 'What, you jealous?"
Ryoga pursed his lips and looked away as if the question was a ridiculous one. "No! Why would I be?"
"Don't know. You tell me."
He huffed, crossing his arms. "He was just irritating. He came out of nowhere as if we needed his help."
"He did help us lower the price."
Ryoga turned to her, his brows furrowed, and scoffed. "That was not assistance; that was arrogance."
Ukyo leaned back on her hands, her smile still lingering but her gaze thoughtful now. "He's… interesting," she admitted. "A little much, but not the worst I've met."
Ryoga frowned but said nothing.
Ukyo smirked, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. "You gotta admit, though—he's kinda handsome."
Ryoga's eye twitched. "Idon'thave to admit anything."
Ukyo chuckled, nudging him lightly. "Sounds like jealousy to me."
Ryoga crossed his arms, huffing. "Of that guy? Please."
Ukyo snickered. "Whatever you say, sugar."
Ryoga muttered something under his breath, gripping the tiger pendant a little too tightly.
Ukyo brought her knees up to hug it. 'You're still thinking about the pendant, huh?"
"What?"
She nodded toward his pocket. "You kept staring at it."
He hesitated before sighing, pulling it out again, running his thumb over the smooth edges. "I just don't get it."
Ukyo tilted her head at him, one eyebrow raised. "What's there to get?"
Ryoga looked down at the tiger's golden lined face. "Why would it remind you of me?
Ukyo was quiet for a second, carefully watching him. Her brown eyes bore into his.
"You're stubborn."
Ryoga snorted. "Gee, thanks."
"Let me finish." She tapped a finger against her chin, her expression thoughtful. "Tigers…they don't back down, right? And I've seen how stubborn you get when you fight Ranma. Even when the odds are against you, you pull through somehow. Tigers are also adventurous, and that's you definitely you, since you're always getting lost. And quick-tempered? That's you when you get emotional."
Ryoga let out a quiet laugh, the sound barely more than a breath. He wasn't sure if her words were meant as flattery or mockery—or maybe a little of both. Either way, he couldn't help but smile at that.
"You're making me sound cooler than I am."
Ukyo laughed. "Oh, don't get me wrong, you're still reckless." She said, " But resilient."
Ryoga cast her a sideways glance, caught off guard by the quiet conviction in her voice. She didn't say it as a joke. Didn't say it like an empty compliment. Just a fact.
"I bought it for you," Ukyo said, resting her chin on her hand, "because, honestly, with the luck you have, you probably need it." She paused, her expression softening. "And also… because we're friends."
Ryoga turned his head towards her, meeting her gaze as his eyes widened at the way she said 'friends,' as if they had been that their whole lives. Her expression was soft, smiling at him with the sincerity that he rarely saw from her and that caught him off guard. Ryoga swallowed thickly, his cheeks dusted with a faint blush, unexpected but not unwelcome. He stared at the pendant again. For some reason, it felt heavier now.
A beat of silence.
"Hey, Ryoga," Ukyo chimed in, breaking the silence.
"Yeah?"
Ukyo tilted her head toward him, her expression shifting into something more serious. "Let's have a sparring match. Without any weapons."
Ryoga raised a brow. "You've fought me before."
" I know, but it's been a while since I've actually sparred with anyone. I just want to get the energy out. I've sparred with Ranma before, I know how he fights. But you? You're a different kind of strength. You're heavier in your footing but not slow. Come on, it'll be interesting."
He was taken aback by the commentary of skills. Had she been observing him all this time?
She stretched her arms. "Since you're my travel buddy, and since you'll get into a fight at least once, maybe we should just practice."
Ryoga asked again, "You sure you want to fight me?"
Ukyo nodded vigorously.
A challenge. Ryoga's blood stirred. Thrilled by the chance to let off steam. He smirked, his fangs visible. "You're going to regret asking."
Ukyo's eyes glinted. "Don't underestimate me, sugar."
The energy between them shifted—still light, still easy, but charged. Not just playfulness. Something more. Something comfortable.
—
The courtyard behind the inn was still, the air thick with the lingering scent of the night breeze. The lanterns swayed gently in the night breeze, casting flickering patches of gold against the damp ground. Crickets hummed somewhere in the distance, their rhythmic song filling the quiet.
Ryoga rolled his shoulders, shaking out the tension in his arms as he faced Ukyo across the packed dirt. No weapons. No tricks. Just instinct, skill and steady pulse of something undercurrent between them.
Ukyo stretched her neck side to side, her brown ponytail shifting slightly with the motion. She looked comfortable, standing there with one foot slightly forward, weight balanced, her sharp eyes already reading him. Calculating. Waiting.
Ryoga let out a steady breath, setting his stance. "You sure you can handle me?"
Ukyo gave a half smile. "Confident, huh?"
Then she moved. Fast. A blur of motion. Her foot swung low—a sharp sweep aimed at his legs. Ryoga barely jumped back, feeling the air stir as she missed by a fraction of a second. She followed through without a pause, twisting into a fluid roundhouse kick, her heel slicing through the air. She was faster than he remembered.
Ryoga raised his arm to block, the impact reverberating up his forearm. Ukyo barely lost momentum, landing lightly before twisting into a sharp palm strike toward the ribs.
He sidestepped, catching her wrist in a firm grip.
She gasped softly, surprised, but didn't let it slow her. She twisted her arm free, ducking low, slipping just out of reach before her leg shot out in a kick aimed at his stomach.
Ryoga caught her ankle.
Ukyo stilled.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
His fingers curled around her skin, firm but careful. He could feel the warmth beneath the fabric of her pants, the tension in her muscles as she balanced on one foot, eyes locked on his. Her breath hitched—just slightly.
Ryoga's chest rose and fell a little too fast, something unspoken stretching between them in the stillness.
Her eyes narrowed, but not in irritation. Then—she moved. Fast, sharp, deliberate.
She twisted, using his own grip against him, shifting her weight in a way that forced him to lose balance. Ryoga swore under his breath—he tried to correct, but the ground was damp and in that split second, they were both going down. The world tilted.
Ukyo let out a startled yelp, her weight colliding with his as they tumbled toward the ground.
Ryoga reacted on instinct, arms wrapping around her waist as they hit the dirt, his back taking the full impact.
They close their eyes as they feel themselves collide with the ground.
When they opened their eyes, Ukyo was on top of him, staring at him. Her hands pressed against his chest, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his shirt as she braced herself. Ryoga's arms were still locked around her waist, his palms resting against the small of her back.
His heartbeat slammed against his ribs—loud, unrelenting.
Ukyo's hair had come loose, strands cascading around her face like a soft, messy halo. They framed the sharpcut ofher jaw and the delicate curve of her cheekbones. In the dim golden glow of the lantern light, her brown eyes sparkled, her lips parted slightly as she tried to catch her breath.
Was she always this pretty?'He thought.
Ryoga swallowed hard. His throat tightened as a deep flush spread across his cheeks, staining them a bright, unmistakable red.
He was suddenly aware of everything. The heat of her body against his. The soft press of her thigh against his hip. The faint scent of flour and jasmine lingered on her skin.
Ukyo's gaze flickered down—just for a second— before she blinked, her fingers tensing against his chest.
Neither of them moved.
Neither of them spoke.
The moment stretched—thick and electric, the air between them charged with unspoken tension.
Ukyo let out a short laugh, more breath than sound. "Let's call it a tie."
Ryoga blinked, barely processing the words.
Ukyo pushed herself off, and for one excruciating second, her palms pressed against his chest, the movement slow and deliberate. Ryoga's muscles tensed beneath her touch before he finally sat up a second slower.
"Thanks for the save."
Ryoga, still stunned, barely managed a strained nod.
The tension eased—but not completely.
They sat there for a second longer, catching their breath, before Ukyo stood, offering her hand.
Ryoga hesitated, then took it. Her grip was firm, steady.
His heart was still beating too fast.
"Here," Ukyo tossed Ryoga a water bottle, and he caught it with ease precision. Feeling the tightness still in his throat, Ryoga took a long, desperate sip of the water.
"Hey, you drop this. I told you to take good care of it. "said Ukyo, handing him back the pendant that drop from his pocket.
Ryoga sighed. " I don't really know how to wear stuff like this."
Ukyo rolled her eyes, snatching the pendant from him. "Give it."
Before he could stop her, she shifted towards him, leaning in and brushing her hair over one shoulder as she slipped the pendant over his head. Her fingers brushed against the nape of his neck, gentle and barely a whisper of contact.
Ryoga completely stiffened.
He could feel her breath fanned lightly against his ear, warm against the cool night air. The faint scent of her shampoo—something soft, something floral. The way her fingertips grazed his skin, lingering just long enough to send something unfamiliar twisting in his stomach. The closeness.
His jaw was clenched.
He barely heard his own breath hitch.
Ukyo, completely oblivious to the absolute crisis she just caused, tied the knot behind his neck, adjusting the pendant against his chest.
"There," she said, pulling back. As she did, she looked up to meet Ryoga's brown eyes, only to find them wide with surprise and something else she couldn't quite place. Something soft. Something unreadable. His cheeks were flushed, the redness spreading to the tips of his ears, and he seemed frozen in place, unsure how to react.
Her fingers twitched, still tingling from where they had brushed against his skin. She should say something. Laugh it off. Tease him. Anything. But she didn't. Because in that second—that brief, unguarded moment—she realized something else.
She was staring, too. The sweat from their sparring had dampened the stray strands of his black hair, making them stick messily against his forehead. At the way his breath was still uneven, his chest rising and falling just a little too fast. She felt herself becoming red, a warm flush creeping up her neck and into her cheeks as she realized how long she had been looking. Quickly, she averted her gaze, moving away to leave a gap between them, but the image of him—disheveled and breathless lingered in her mind.
A warmth coiled in her stomach, unfamiliar and unwelcome.
Ryoga swallowed, forcing himself to breathe normally. The pendant rested against his chest, its weight suddenly more pronounced.
Ukyo smiled, tilting her head. "Looks good on you."
Ryoga kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, very much not looking at her. "…Thanks."
Ukyo stretched, letting out a satisfied sigh.
Ryoga exhaled—slow, steady, trying to calm whatever the hell just happened in his head.
The night air remained thick—something lingering between them.