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Scars
She just doesn't get it.
I stumble into our room and collapse on my futon. I'm drained to the point of exhaustion, thanks to her force-fed "lunch." Even though it's edible, unlike a certain Tendou I could mention, it's the aftereffects that I don't want to think about.
Oh yeah, and Kodachi? Extra cyanide, hold the mayo.
Of course, Akane had to smash me over the clock tower afterwards. Kawaiikune tomboy. Doesn't she realize I try?
Of course not.
I don't want to hurt her . . . or anybody. It's not like I want girls hanging on me. No thanks to oyaji. If I ever get married, I want to do it out of love, not because of honor.
And definitely not because oyaji ran out on a restaurant bill.
My head is spinning. I can barely see the ceiling above me. Kodachi must have spent extra time with that bento today.
Out of all the fiancées, she's the one I want least—not that I want any of them, mind you. Continuously trying to poison me, Akane, or both of us. I could never understand how she and her brother fail to see the truth of my curse. So caught up in their own private little worlds.
I groan and close my eyes. Here they come. The aftereffects.
Nobody's seen the results. Not even Pop or Ryouga. I'm always careful to hide them when he comes into the bathroom to change. Literally, of course; the only place I'm going to be exposed enough for them to show is there, or when I'm sleeping, and of course baka oyaji doesn't notice.
Of course, the physical ones are nothing to the ones on my soul. Time heals all, they say. It does, in a way. You can barely see them on my skin, from the various cuts, bruises, and wounds I've gotten this past year.
The ones inside still gape open. Bleed.
This is one battle-wound I can't fix. Not as of yet.
It's not only Kodachi. Akane, too, has left her mark. Shouts of "pervert" and "Ranma no baka" echo through my head. The mallet by all rights should have crushed in my skull by now. But it hasn't.
And sometimes I wish it had.
The physical abuse I can take, though it mars my body. That's fine with me; it's because of this body that I'm where I am now, the handsome fiancée. It's the hate that tears me up inside, that reaches out with thin claws and mauls my soul. Whenever Akane swings her mallet at me, it's like it turns into a steel trap that snatches my heart out of my chest and rips it apart.
Painfully. Losing a bit of it at a time.
Ranma Saotome doesn't lose. Everybody knows that. Of course the great Saotome never loses. How could he, he's Ranma. They're so sure that they know it.
Know me.
They don't. There are some battles that even I can't win. As much as I hate to admit it. I can't satisfy everyone.
I absently trace one long scar, almost invisible, that runs down my upper leg. Ukyou's fault. That spatula of hers is damn sharp. She didn't see it, of course. Nobody ever does.
And that's what I can't stand. Nobody sees my pain. Even I can't see it when I look in the mirror. There's no hint of suffering in the face that stares back at me. The face that everyone's after. They wouldn't be if they knew what hid behind this facade.
I could unleash a Shi Shi Houkodan that would put Ryouga to shame.
Nobody suspects, of course. Why should they? It's not like Ranma has any problems dealing with his life. His hectic, cursed—
I blink at the growing light in the room. It's steadily getting less and less dim. Then I realize why.
I never knew an aura could light up that much. I put the damper on it quick. The light cuts out.
Everybody expects Ranma to fix whatever stupid problem in his or her lives. Ranma is always running off to save Akane from whatever magical prince that decided to drop by Nerima this week. Ranma saves the families' honor time and time again.
The guys at Furinkan don't like me. I know it. How could I not, with the stares I get, the whispering behind my back? That almost every girl in school is in love, or at least, lust, with me. That I have three+ fiancées fighting over me. And then what with the curse. They envy me, my situation. That currently four beautiful girls want my hand in marriage.
They envy me.
I laugh out loud, the sound echoing eerily around the small room, each time growing more hollow, more twisted from the original. It's ironic, really.
They envy me.
The prize.
Those girls fight over me like I'm a mere possession. Which I am, to them. None of them realize what I go through, watching them disregard any feelings I might have as they shout "Ranma is mine!" Scar.
Yes, I have feelings too. The battle with Saffron. When Akane lay so still, so pale. My heart had just been ripped out. Again.
Another scar. That one healed very fast, though, as Akane came back. I think that's the only one that did.
My body and soul, mind and heart, all are crisscrossed with scars.
I run my fingers down another one, on the side of my face. Nobody's noticed that one, for some reason, though I learned long ago not to conceal it—it didn't matter anyway. Nobody saw, nobody cared. Akane's fault, this one.
And even as I desperately try to conceal them, a part of me yearns to let someone see, to show my pain to the world. To tell them of the hurts I've received. That I, too, am vulnerable.
'Cept I can't.
I've dug myself into the deepest of holes. Ranma Saotome. The man among men. The most massive egotist of all time, at least according to Akane. The man among men—who's screams inside.
I've built a wall around my heart, and now, not even I can breach it.
Akane's right in a way; that ego of mine won't let me show anybody my weaknesses. Like my first period. Stupid Cologne and the Cat-tongue. I'd never been in girl-form long enough for that to happen. It took me an hour to calm down, on the outside at least. For Akane's sake.
But inside, I was shaking down to my very soul. One more scar, a blow to my masculinity. Nothing like that's ever happened to a guy, at far as I know.
Kasumi later explained what was going on in medical terms. Not that I understood most of it, of course. But it helped, it showed that someone cared for me.
The strange thing is, I think Kasumi can see them. My scars, I mean. She treats everyone with her normal kindness, but there's always . . . something . . . in her eyes whenever she looks at me.
I hate it. Because she sees. Because only she sees.
I clutch at my stomach as it starts to roil painfully, bile shoving its furry fist up my throat. Stumbling to my feet, I try to reach the door, limp fingers closing around the knob, twisting, pushing weakly against the hard wood. The barrier gives way, and I fall through to land painfully on the other side.
Now reduced to crawling, I scrabble frantically over to the stairwell, not caring if anybody sees me in this state; yes, Akane, I think wryly, I can control my ego. Not that it ever matters . . . with one arm wrapped tightly around my middle, trying to calm my stomach—ineffectively—I reach the stairs and haul myself to my feet, leaning heavily against the wall.
I take the first step down, using the banister as support. Another. Another . . . no.
As I lift my foot off the supporting surface, the air seems to shimmer around me as a wave of dizziness crashes through my body. With a small cry I pitch forward, half-rolling, half-falling, down the rest of the stairs. It hurts more than it should, the poisons surging throughout my body having drastically lowered my threshold for pain. If Ryouga, or hell, even Mousse, landed one solid blow on me in my condition, I would have been knocked unconscious or worse.
Scar.
I land awkwardly in a heap at the foot of the stairs; oyaji and Tendou-san look up from another of their marathon games of shogi, surprised, while Kasumi lets out an "Oh my." Nabiki looks at me, expressionless, from the couch where she's sprawled out with a shoujo manga, and Akane . . .
Storms down the stairs and kicks me through the wall.
"I'm trying to do my homework!" she shouts, as I land outside in the pond. Where else? "RANMA NO BAKA!" she finishes.
I sink below the water, not bothering to reclaim my feet. Above me, the silvery surface blocks my view of the world. The twilight sky tinges the water with shafts of glowing sunlight, briefly illuminating various fish as they meander in and out of the bright beams.
So beautiful.
I wonder if it's worth it going back up. Fiancees, rivals, curses, the hassle of everyday life. Honor. The Art. Akane, Ukyou, Kasumi . . .
Or is it better to stay down here? Only peaceful tranquillity reaches my ears, as one after another, various koi gleam brightly, then fade back into the shadows again. A serene beauty imbues the scene, as I gaze on in wonder.
Go or stay?
I suddenly realize that my limbs have turned limp. Weak, unresponsive. I mentally sigh and bob gently in the still waters, the poisons having made my choice for me. I don't mind, actually. Saves me a lot of trouble.
Resigning myself to a few more minutes of peace, I turn to the underwater ballet and observe quietly, before the shadows claim me.
==========
"How is he, Sensei?"
Tofu sighed. "He's going to be fine, Akane. It's a good thing K-kasumi got him out when she did." At the mention of her sister's name, Tofu's glasses started to fog up slightly, but surprisingly, he kept control of himself. "If he'd inhaled any more water, I'd have lost him."
We'd have lost him, Akane thought guiltily. It had been her fault that he'd almost died. Her fault . . . her eyes started to well up with shimmering tears.
"The fact that there were numerous poisons in his system didn't help either," he added offhandedly. "Wonder where he ingested them."
Akane's heart leaped. It wasn't her fault! If he hadn't eaten that lunch before, he'd be fine! Ranma no baka, she thought angrily. "May I see him, Sensei?"
Tofu looked at the girl, then nodded. "He's sleeping, though, so be careful. He needs his rest."
Akane nodded, then followed the doctor down to Ranma's room. The pigtailed martial artist, back in boy-type, was in a stark white hospital bed. The color of the sheets, along with his black hair, enhanced the pale tone of his skin, and he slept fitfully.
As Tofu inconspicuously left, Akane turned to face Ranma. "You baka," she whispered angrily. "Why'd you eat Kodachi's food if you know something like this is going to happen?" She sighed in exasperation, then looked more closely at his injuries. Antiseptic was smeared on a cut running along his face, and as Akane leaned down to inspect it more closely, she noticed something.
Walking to the door, she stuck her head out into the hall. "Tofu-sensei," she said, motioning him in, "have you seen this before?" she asked curiously, pointing to the facial feature in question.
Tofu peered at the thin white line, barely distinguishable from the rest of Ranma's skin, and frowned slightly. "No Akane, can't say I have."
"Wonder where he picked that up?" Akane said, taking one last look at the streak of scar tissue that marked Ranma's face. "It seems pretty old." Tofu shrugged as Akane continued, "he probably got that from training, anyhow."
The doctor nodded as the two walked out of the room.
==========
As the door snicked shut behind them, I lost it. My iron-hard control over my emotions broke, crumbled, collapsed, as the tears began.
~owari~