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Rescue
Tick.
Right.
Tick.
Left.
Tick.
Right.
Tick.
Left . . .
My eyes track the pendulum as it swings back and forth. The elegantly sweeping hand of the clock nears ever closer to the dreaded time. He's due back any minute now. At least, he should be, if he's not out drinking again.
Considering everything, I'd prefer that to the alternative. At least then, he won't be hitting me.
He considers it my fault the Dojo has no business, that we're falling ever further into debt. He doesn't seem to realize that it's because of his teaching abilities, or rather, the lack of them. I try to help out, but he always ends up slapping me away, right in front of the students. We've scared them all away, I know. Our furious yells and my screams of pain ring throughout our house at all hours of the day.
Kasumi married Dr. Tofu about six months before he proposed to me, and Nabiki had already moved to the States. Daddy moved out shortly after our marriage, saying he didn't want to be in our way, but now I know he disapproved of my husband. Last I heard, he was living with the Saotomes. Mrs. Saotome used to visit occasionally, but not anymore. Not after my mate told her off.
And as for Ranma . . .
==========
He kneels before me, a blush creeping up into his tanned cheeks as he grasps my hands, so gentle, so opposite of his usual demeanor. His palms are rough and callused, yet they hold me delicately, unlike the sledgehammer blows they're capable of delivering to any of his enemies.
"A-akane," he stutters, looking into my eyes. "I-I love you. I loved you for a long time, and, well, I—" He stops, determination suddenly in every pore of his being. "Oh, to hell with it, will you marry me?" He pulls out a velvet box and slowly opens it. I gasp at the diamond ring inside. It must have cost him so much . . .
I stare at him as thoughts race through my mind. My astonishment must have shown on my face as he hastens to add, "Of course, you don't have to, I'm not a real man anyway, but I'd do anything for you, Akane." He finishes in a rush, gazing up into my face. His eyes burn brightly with love for me.
My brain finally catches up with what he has said. Through my mind I see all the random acts of kindness he's done for me, as small as they may be. No matter what he does, I know there's a gentle heart inside this boy, just simply wrapped up in a rough exterior. I hug the dark-haired young man tightly, as he slowly, awkwardly does the same, a bit startled by my sudden show of affection.
"You baka," I whisper fiercely into his ear. "Of course I'll marry you, R—"
Suddenly, my door slams open, and somebody storms in. It's his rival. "Akane, I—" He stops short when he sees us locked in our embrace, and his eyes light upon my love. "What are you doing here?"
"Proposing," is the simple reply. "Akane's agreed to marry me." He grins at the pole-axed look on his face.
Time stops as his rival stares at him, then me. Brushing a shaggy lock of hair out of his eyes, he stammers, "W-well, I'm h-happy for you two."
My love stares at him. "You are?"
He nods, abruptly turning away. "I wish you a good life together. I-I have to go now." With that, he runs out of my room, literally runs. I can hear him clattering down the stairs.
"What's with him?" I ask, confused. "It's almost as if he liked me or something."
"Don't mind him," my love says, bringing me into a soft kiss. "We have a new path in front of us."
I giggle, brushing some hair out of his face, saying, "You know, that's pretty deep coming from you. I could get used to it . . ."
He blushes. "Anata ga suki, Akane-chan."
"Anata ga suki . . . Ryouga."
==========
That was five years ago. I haven't seen Ranma since.
Later, I had found another velvet box, just outside my room. Inside was a simple gold band, no gems, but inscribed with my name. I wondered what it was for, before picking it up and placing it on a shelf in my room.
When I went to check on it later, it was gone.
Since that day, when Ryouga asked me to marry him, my life has become a nightmare, from the once dreamlike state it used to be. I know I can't go to hell now; I'm already in it.
Ranma, why won't you come back and rescue me, like you always did before?
It's past the time he'd normally be back. He's out in town, I know, spending even more money on temporary happiness. The time I had to go out and drag him home from the bar where he had entrenched himself is still fresh in my memory. The next morning he apologized for his behavior, but I still ended up with a black eye before he left the house.
It's mostly my fault that my life is like this. I used to be so happy, so carefree, so deeply in love with him. And he returned my feelings, I know, a hundred fold. But somehow, I knew that it was just a false relationship. After I descended out of my bliss, my instincts were constantly screaming at me that this was wrong, this was never meant to be.
I ignored them at first, putting it down to the usual newlywed jitters, something that would pass in time. It didn't. They grew steadily worse, until Ryouga started . . . that. That's when I couldn't put them aside any longer.
Ranma would never do that.
I still remember the first time he hit me. He hadn't had a good day, and as he stumbled in through the door, I knew by his timing, the randomness of his moves, that he was drunk out of his mind.
Attempts to calm him down failed, and he developed an angry red rage, shouting for me to mind my own business, that he could take care of himself. That was the first I'd seen him so mad at me, and it scared me, down to my very soul. Here was my loving husband turned into a raging monster, glaring at me with those bright green eyes, now bloodshot and sunken.
I remember as my body flew across the room, propelled by the force of his blow. I remember landing with a crunch on the wall, seeing his horrified expression as he stared at his upraised hand. I remember him shaking his head, mouthing the word No over and over again.
He had then run out the door.
That had been about four years ago. Since then, it had degraded into the hell my life was now. I dreaded his return to our home every night, fearful for my very life at times. But I couldn't break away from him. The strong soul I used to be has been crushed, destroyed by my husband's anger, his blows, then his apologies and promises, always broken.
And Ranma wouldn't come back to save me.
With a heavy sigh, I begin to clear the dishes from the table, placing the food in containers to keep. My cooking has improved drastically, ever since Kasumi took it upon herself to teach me properly or die trying. I'm afraid I almost made the dying part come true.
I'm not hungry tonight. I almost never am, these days. I can get by on a single bowl of rice, just to cut down on food expenses. I'm more in the mood for something to help me sleep.
Sake. Yeah, that's it.
I stumble wearily over to the cabinet where Ryouga keeps the stuff. That's where most of the food money goes: to keep it full. I open the door and grope around for a bottle; finding one, I snag a cup and slouch back to the table. Pouring myself a drink, I toss it back and reach for the bottle again. Second one, down the hatch. Third follows soon after that. Fourth, no problem.
After I announced my marital intentions to my family, Ranma and his family moved out. I didn't see him in school after that, and when I went to the Saotome residence to check on him, I was told he didn't want to see me.
I wondered why.
After my marriage, before the beatings started, I got a long letter from him, sent from China. Apparently, he had found the Nanniichuan and was now a man full time. He sent a flask of the much sought-after liquid for Ryouga as a wedding gift; he happily doused himself with it.
I didn't have much of a reaction as Ryouga thought I would when I first found out that he was P-chan. I let him off with a couple bruised ribs, a broken arm, and an almost one-way trip to Kobe via Akane Airlines. How I forgave him after that is beyond me. Perhaps if I hadn't, I wouldn't be where I am today.
After the first couple of "incidents," Ranma's next letter was a beacon of light in my rapidly darkening world. Ranma's loose style of writing always made me laugh, and this time, it was no exception. He had apparently visited Korea on a training trip, without his father this time, and sent back some souvenirs with the letter.
Luckily, I had a chance to read the letter before Ryouga got home. He immediately tore it up. Seeing this, I hid Ranma's presents and all of his other letters way back in my dresser; I didn't want to risk losing the only spot of hope in my life.
Periodically, Ranma would send other things as well; a package of French food, some sand and water in a jar from the Atlantic Ocean (I smiled at that one, it was just like him), a carefully preserved flower from who-knows-where. Since he never gave an address for me to write back to, I looked forward to his letters. Once there was a picture included with a postcard that he sent, from a place in Italy. He was sitting on a rock, hands bracing his body behind him, legs dangling in the waters of the ocean as they lapped at his feet. His profile was presented to the camera, and there was a dreamy expression on his face as he stared into the sunset. His attitude was relaxed and casual, but something about his eyes struck me. They were changed, haunted, pained . . . yet mature.
The explanation for the picture was that a passing tourist had just taken a shot, considering him too photogenic to pass up, and had given him a copy. I smiled at that; Ranma had always been photogenic, even though those two pictures that Mr. Saotome had shown when he was learning the Hiyruu Shoten Ha strongly suggested otherwise . . .
Fifth drink . . . bottle's starting to blur in my hand . . . \par It's the little things that he does, by sending me those gifts, those letters, which caused me to realize that I loved him. That I always did. I think Ryouga knows that too; what else explains his hostility to his letters, the very mention of his name?
At first, Ryouga wanted Ranma to be his best man, but that didn't exactly work out, seeing that Ranma was gone and missing, so he had to resort to Ukyou instead. Naturally, she was a little annoyed for being asked to fill in, but her joy of me marrying Ryouga instead of "her" Ran-chan eventually caused her to agree. After all, Ryouga had been a friend to her as well as me, and since it was my wedding . . . Ukyou now lives in Hiroshima, operating another okonomiyaki-ya. She moved away after Ranma disappeared.
Shampoo and Mousse were finally married, after a freak accident involving a bar of soap, a bottle of passion spice, and a passing elephant (such is the normal life of the average Neriman) caused Mousse to save the Amazon warrior's life. And inadvertently caused him to defeat her in battle. After we basically hog-tied Shampoo and dragged her to the altar, she agreed to marry the myopic Chinese boy, much to Cologne's amusement (this shocked all of us. We were expecting her to kill Mousse or something along those lines). Today the happy couple have two beautiful girls, Rei Zor and Bei Sin, and live on the other side of town.
Kodachi was institutionalized after she went on a rampage upon learning that her Ranma-sama was gone. Nobody objected.
Kunou is in college at the insistence of his father, whom the school board finally fired. After Ryouga finally sent him to the hospital and threatened to bring him up on charges of assault—Kunou's fighting was too pathetic to add on battery along with that—as well as molesting, he finally got the message to stay away from me.
And as for me . . . I finished high school, but lack of money demanded that I don't attend college. Ryouga didn't approve anyway.
Ranma would have encouraged me to follow my dreams.
Oh, Ranma, come back to me!
==========
With a start, I jerk my head up off the kitchen table and glance blearily at the clock. It's almost too dark to make it out, but apparently it reads somewhere between 2 and 3 o' clock. The moonlight shines on the puddle of sake that's spilled from the bottle. Ryouga's going to kill me.
With a groan, I slowly push myself off the table, senses dulled by the alcohol that's still surging through my system. I'm going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning, but for now, I'm still feeling relaxed enough not to worry about anything . . .
Until a sound catches my ears, as deaf as they currently are. A creak of wood, too soft to be Ryouga. I know my home well, all the sounds it makes while it "settles" during the night. And I know this isn't one of them.
There's someone in the house.
Well, duh, my mind tells me, of course there is. Me. I shake my head, trying to clear the cobwebs that have formed as I downed cup after cup of sake, and slip to the kitchen door, years of martial arts training taking over.
Peering out, I see the stranger silhouetted against the white paper of the shoji, tall and broad, a dark shape to my eyes. A man. Not Ryouga.
I thought I thought that already . . .?
His back is to me, and my drunken mind can't make out any familiar features, save for dark, unruly hair. I'm ready to jump out and tackle him, take him down with one well-placed kick, when he slowly turns around.
My heart stops.
For one, eternal moment, against the moonlit background, I see the man's profile. One that I've gazed at in secret for years. Even without the trademark pigtail, I would have known it was he.
He's come back for me.
I shake my head, not daring to believe. This is just a part of my haze-filled mind. A figment of my imagination. Too much to drink, too much to live, too much to hope for, too much . . .
A collapse in a heap as the solid, comforting darkness of the floor rushes up to greet me, holding me safe, a steady hand against my body, preventing me from falling further into my nightmares.
You won't go away . . . you won't go away . . .
==========
Light. Filtering through my closed eyelids. A gentle warmth on my forehead . . . softness cradling my body . . .
My eyes snap open, then I immediately wish they hadn't; the usually soft light of the living room sears my eyes. I can feel the headache coming on.
Abruptly I sit up, a washcloth falling from my forehead, the source of the warmth earlier now gone, leaving water to cool on my skin. I blink, trying to figure out where I am, what I'm lying on.
Futon. That's it. Living room.
Ranma.
It all comes back to me in a rush. The watchful eye on the clock. The shadow in the moonlight. The profile of the face I've been longing to see for four years.
Ranma is back.
With a cry, I look around frantically, trying to stand up, but getting tangled in the quilt that's been pulled up around me. He's not in the room. He's not here. It was just a dream. A nightmare. A secret hope. He's not here . . .
And suddenly, he is.
Standing in the doorway of the kitchen, a worried look on his face that instantly relaxes at the sight of me. Holding a steaming cup. I can smell the strong scent of the tea from where I'm sitting.
He walks over with a smooth, easy grace, almost feline in a way. I giggle stupidly at that. Ranma, a cat. Ha ha.
Gods, that fall must have affected me more than the alcohol did.
His beautiful blue-gray eyes shine in the light as he leans over me, pressing the cup into my hand. I gratefully accept it, gingerly testing the temperature of the brew he's brought me. It's just right, my favorite blend. He hasn't forgotten. I smile at him, and his eyes tell me all I need to know.
He's back.
I'm safe.
==========
I sip slowly, savoring the taste of the soothing liquid on my tongue, and we look at each other. I note the same manner about his eyes, the haunted depths of smoky azure seas, now coupled by an intense weariness that somehow suits his more mature air. He's grown even taller since I saw him last, now dwarfing me by at least 15 centimeters. His frame is as proportioned as ever, though, with more heavily muscled arms and the same, lean strength that he always possessed. His black hair hangs into his eyes, making them points of sapphire light, shining in the darkness, and his signature pigtail is still there, even longer than before. Clad in a casual long-sleeved shirt and loose pants, he is the vision of maturity, the wonderful result of our hectic world, five years ago.
Those glorious prussian eyes look me over, and his expression darkens. I know he's seen the bruises on my arms and face, even as I try to cover them up with my hands. I can do nothing for my black eye, though, or the cut that runs along my jawline. He knows where I got them. I can tell.
Gently, roughly callused hands smooth my bangs away from my eyes, and the age lines that mar my once-young face are exposed for him to see. I've grown up far more quickly than is my due, and time has left its mark prematurely. And he still hasn't said a word.
He smiles at me, that same, heart-melting smile that he gave to only his closest friends and family, not that cocky, self-sure grin that symbolized him to the rest of the world. Now I know why girls chased him, sighed as they watched him in class, looked at him with those adoring eyes, curse and all.
And then there was me.
His fingers gently brush over the bump that throbs on my forehead, the result of my collapse in the kitchen. The slight contact is not enough to make me wince, just sending a small sensation of pain through my skull. "Even in falling, you're still a clumsy tomboy," he says softly.
His voice has changed too. Still mellow and deep, wisdom and responsibility underlay it with a rich color, so unlike the awkward teen I knew years ago. I smile at him, where I'd once have screamed in rage and kicked him over Nerima. I, too, am wiser now. I know what is at stake.
His love. My life.
The Gambler King couldn't have asked for a better prize.
==========
Ranma treats my bruises with a balm he fetches from his pack. I hadn't noticed it earlier, so panicked I was when I didn't see him. Gently smearing the ointment on, he talks of what he's been doing since he left Nerima, things that he didn't include in his letters to me. I laugh at his stories, his tales of wild adventure, traveling across the world in true Saotome fashion, training and thinking about the life he left behind.
And me.
He tells me now, how he gazed up at the stars at night, wondering if I was looking at the same ones he was. Where as a boy, he would vehemently deny any feelings he had for me, now, as a true man, he speaks freely of his emotions. How devastated he was when he had walked in on Ryouga and me that night. The hours he spent under the bridge, in girl-form, crying.
The ring he had been coming to give me when he had heard I accepted his.
That's what the case was, the one I had found outside my door, the night our lives changed forever. Ranma's own ring. The one he had dropped in shock as Ryouga told him the "good" news.
I honestly hadn't known.
I stared at my once-fiancé as he tells me of the real reasons he took that training trip; to sort out his feelings without his fiancées chasing after him, without having to see me in school. Without having to see Ryouga and me together.
"I wanted to come back before now." Ranma finally concludes. "I seriously did, but I couldn't. Not without imagining the life you two would be having together. The one that ends "And they all lived happily ever after." Not the hell you live now."
He shakes his head. "If I had known what that, that pig, was doing to you, I would have gotten here a lot faster." His voice drips self-loathing and contempt. "I should have been here for you. I should have stuck it out, instead of running away."
He closes his eyes, shoulders slumping over. Instantly, I know what he's thinking.
He blames himself.
He blames himself for not being there for me, for not getting here sooner to protect me, just like he did back then, when magic and mayhem permeated our lives. He blames himself, his so-called "weakness," for leaving Nerima.
And, as I gaze into his eyes, I finally realize the ultimate truth: He blames himself for not asking me to marry him sooner.
I shake my head, silently forgiving him all the wrongs he's ever done to me, reassuring him that it wasn't his fault. How would anybody have known things would turn out this way?
Besides, what with our whirlwind courtship, if you could even call it that, I'm surprised he even screwed up enough courage to ask me that night. Or try to, anyway.
Typical Ranma. Always thinking of me first, always blaming himself.
It's endearing, in a way.
==========
I fill him in on the status of the rest of the Nerima crew, since he's missed out on so much. He grins widely when I get to Shampoo and Mousse. "No kidding!" he exclaims. "I knew they'd get together sometime!"
"Yeah," I agree. "It's like a match made in heaven or something. They're perfect for each other."
"You said it."
When I mention ex-Principle Kunou, Ranma's face breaks out into a huge smile. "That reminds me: the dragon's hair soup magic finally wore off about a year ago. I don't have to keep my hair tied up anymore."
"Then why do you?" I ask, delighted at the news. Ranma's little hair problem was definitely one thing I wouldn't miss.
Ranma shrugs. "Force of habit, I guess. Besides," he says, making a face, "I've tried short hair before; it doesn't really suit me."
I laugh at that. And the talk continues.
==========
Dawn has touched the eastern horizon (or what's visible of it) with streaks of pink and gold when I finally realize something: I don't need to be rescued.
All my life, at least the one with Ranma, I've always counted on him to come and save me from whatever enemy that had taken me away that time. But I don't need it this time.
I can rescue myself. He's shown me that there's more to life, other than sitting around and dreading the mornings, but he's not going to do anything. He's opened the door, but only I can step through it.
And as I meet his eyes, he smiles and nods ever so slightly. He knows.
He always has.
And I walk through.
~owari~
Notes: ACK! *slowly smashes her head against the wall* Damn. Okay, the reason I'm beating myself up here is because I didn't know about the fact that the dragon's whisker incident culminated with its magic wearing off. Hence the inaccuracy. *Crouch of the Wild Tiger* Gomen nasai!!!
I wrote the flashback part near the middle when I was in the van driving back from Georgia after Christmas vacation. Ugh. 18 hours stuck in a way-too-small SUV with my hyperactive little bro. Not my idea of a good end to a vacation. Especially if said bro won't leave you and your manga alone . . . Anyway, I decided that bit wasn't enough, tacked on an epilogue with Ranma just disappearing, and it evolved into this monstrosity. A sappy, cheesy monstrosity. *sigh*
Yes, Ryo-kun comes out as a jerk in this one. Sorry. And oh yeah, where did his lack of direction go? *snirt* Don't ask, it's just not there anymore. ^^;;