Chapter One - Dating the Enemy

The restaurant was elegant and beautiful - a darkened arena filled with small private tables, candlelight, lush plants and gently whispering fountains. At one end, a romantically lit dance floor was in use by various couples, all moving to the soothing sounds of an easy beat produced by the small band on stage. Along one wall, a ritzy bar of polished oak and brass catered to high classed patrons, businessmen and lovers who were there for the dancing, or waiting for a table to open up. There was a heavy and sultry mood permeating the entire establishment, and in her seat at one of the darkened and reclusive back tables, an undeniably beautiful woman had fit herself into the scene perfectly.

She was small and delicate, a vision of loveliness with long flowing flame red hair and large dark blue eyes. Her finely featured face was highlighted by the candles which lit the table, adding a certain amount of mystery to her fresh young radiance. She wore a kimono, styled especially for formal occasions, of rich black with embroidered green silk dragon and flower designs. Green ribbons laced through her hair accented the outfit perfectly, and were her only adornment. She had no need of jewelry or other finery to off-set her looks, for she was a natural beauty, with a soft grace and charm that caught the eye of many male patrons, all of whom found themselves rather envious of her clearly reluctant dining companion.

"How in the world did I get roped into this?" he asked plaintively.

The young woman’s feminine mystique was ruined the moment she opened her mouth to reply. "Oh, shut up and decide what you want to order."

Ryoga Hibiki sighed audibly and blankly looked down at the menu he held in his restless hands. He was feeling too unsettled to actually read the descriptions presented for the meals, which was too bad as he hadn't eaten a nice meal in quite some time. Most of the characters printed in the menu made very little sense, and it didn’t exactly help that some of the meals had french names. Quickly losing his concentration, he laid the menu down, looking around the darkened restaurant and fidgeting edgily.

His discomfort prompted a dirty look from his beautiful companion, who was trying to decide what she wanted from her own menu. She leaned forward, leveling a cool look at him.

"Look, I ain’t any happier about this than you are, Ryoga," she said in a low tone, glancing around the restaurant in what was meant to be a casual manner. Only Ryoga was close enough to see the nervous expression she was trying to hide, but at the moment he wasn’t particularly interested in taking notice. "Just try to make the best of the situation, would ya? Think of it as nothing more than a free meal."

Ryoga glanced up, his dark brown eyes shadowed by thick black bangs. He was obviously not pleased, and the deep glare in his gaze illustrated that clearly. "I should know better than to listen when you start a conversation with - ‘Yo Ryoga! We're buddies, ain't we?’ You only call me your buddy when you want something," he grumbled darkly, resting his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. His eyes darted away from her to rest on the nearest lighting fixture. "If your honor as a man weren't at stake, Ranma, I would never have gone along with this."

"Keep your voice down," Ranma hissed in warning, her own eyes narrowing as she pushed irritably at a lock of red hair which had flipped down into her face. "I'm Ranko, remember? And would you look at me? We’re suppose to be on a date."

"This is not a date," Ryoga muttered angrily, looking appalled by the very idea.

"Of course it ain’t. But we gotta make it look good, at least." Ranma sighed, resting her small chin in her hand, elbow on the table, mimicking Ryoga almost exactly without realizing it. She continued in a low tone that only he would be able to hear. "Look, I’m sorry I dragged you into this, all right? But, it ain’t my fault that my mother seems insistent that Ranko Tendo be the perfect young lady. I dunno what her malfunction is, why she’s so obsessed with this, but lately she’s really been laying the heat on, trying to fix me up with every available guy in the damn city. Do you know how many stupid slobbering advances I’ve had to fight off in the last week alone?"

The young man across the table grunted softly in begrudging acknowledgment of Ranma’s hardship.

The flame haired martial artist irritably picked at her water glass. "Anyway, when she showed up this morning and told me that she had set me up on this date with a son of a friend of hers, I had to think fast or get saddled with some weirdo freak for the evening."

"So, you told her that I was your boyfriend," Ryoga said flatly, though not without a great deal of accusation implied.

"Well!" Ranma winced. "How was I to know that you’d chose that very moment to show up again? C'mon man, you haven’t been around in months! If you didn’t have such lousy timing, we wouldn’t be in this mess!" She opened her mouth to continue, but was immediately silenced by his sudden scathing glare in her direction. With a slightly apologetic chuckle, she drew back and fiddled with her utensils until his visual assault tapered off.

Observing the plainly disagreeable scowl on his face, Ranma tried another tactic, injecting a healthy dose of levity into her voice. "And really, this ain’t so bad, is it? You get a free meal out of it, plus you get to be seen with me." She broke into a beaming smile and took to primping, fluffing her hair a bit as she held up a dinner plate and gazed at her reflection. "I’m quite obviously the most gorgeous creature around. It'll do wonders for your reputation, P-Chan."

Ryoga glared at her for a moment, then sighed heavily. "Yeah right, Ranma," he muttered caustically as he once again picked up his menu and failed to look as though he were absorbed in reading it.

"It’s Ranko, moron. And hey, you know, I could have done worse too. Kasumi did a pretty good job cleaning you up."

This caused Ryoga to blush fervently, though whether from embarrassment or further anger the young woman couldn’t say. The Lost Boy had been hastily attired in one of Ranma’s dressier outfits, since he himself didn’t own any clothes that could be considered formal, and although red wasn’t normally a color he chose to wear, the Chinese-style long sleeved shirt did look nice on him, despite being a trifle loose. It was embroidered with black silk in whorled abstract designs that looked very striking against the crimson color, and he wore black silk pants with a sash to match.

The only thing Kasumi hadn’t been able to convince him to change was his bandanna, which was the usual yellow with black stripes. But rather than ruining the look, it actually lent an air of handsome ruggedness to the ensemble. Ryoga wasn’t used to wearing fancy clothes or going to elegant restaurants. Aside from the inherent discomfort in the entire situation, he felt ridiculous and ill at ease, and he was sure that Ranma was teasing him just to be petty, so he didn’t reply. He simply tightened his jaw, buried his face in his menu and tried once again to concentrate on what the restaurant had to offer.

Ranma smirked knowingly. Perhaps one could never be sure when the Lost Boy would show up, but as far as reactions went, he was so very predictable. Pleased, she regarded her own menu once more and offered up an attempt at conversation. "So, what looks good?"

"I’m not sure," Ryoga surprised her by replying quietly, still self-conscious. "Most of this stupid stuff I can’t even pronounce."

"Hmmm. Just get the cordon bleu. That sounds safe enough."

Ryoga looked up sharply in aghast, turning a couple of shades paler than normal, anger already igniting in his eyes. "Ranma, that has ham on it."

She blinked innocently. "So?"

The growl began low in Ryoga’s throat, growing in intensity until it was able to form a moderately coherent word. "Rannnnnma . . . "

Ranma giggled, covering her smile with a hand, but nonetheless drawing the attention of a couple young men who were sitting nearby. They chuckled appreciatively and smiled to themselves at how sweet and lovely the young red-haired girl was. The red head waved a dismissive hand at Ryoga.

"Ne ne, gomen, Ryoga," she placated. "I’m just trying to get you to loosen up a bit. You’re always taking everything so personally, what’s with that? C’mon, dates are suppose to be fun."

"This is not - - "

"I know, I know. But, we can still have fun, can’t we?" She slapped a scowl on her face and crossed her arms over her chest, mimicking his expression and tone of voice almost perfectly. "Stop being so serious all the time, P-Chan."

Ryoga ground his teeth. One of the things that he hated the most was being made fun of, and on top of already feeling utterly miserable and nervous, that was about the last he could take. He leaned forward and poked his finger against the table so hard that the wood beneath the tablecloth threatened to splinter. "Stop it. I’m doing you a damned favor by being here, Ranma, in case you’ve forgotten," he whispered harshly, a slight strain to his voice that Ranma’s keen ears immediately picked up on. It was slightly out of place, hinting at a bit more emotion than the situation merited. She dropped her arms, smoothing her expression, a very faint alarm going off in the back of her head. What was that?

He sat back again as she left off mimicking him, but continued to glare daggers at her. "But make no mistake. I’m only here because if your mother found out about your Jusenkyo curse, she would force you to commit seppuku, and I’m not going to let you kill yourself before I get the chance to do it for you."

Ranma blinked slowly, then rousted herself. Whatever odd edge she had heard to Ryoga’s voice was gone now, so perhaps she’d only imagined it. And besides, what did she care anyway? Her manhood was at stake here! As long as he went along with this date charade for the evening, nothing else mattered. Firmly putting on her best indifferent face, she rolled her eyes. "Hai hai, whatever. Here comes the waiter, better decide what ya want."

After much hemming and hawing, asking the waiter for suggestions and repeated changes of mind, the two got their dinner ordered and the poor haggled man retreated quickly from their table. For several long moments afterward, neither of them spoke.

In spite of herself, Ranma found that she was thinking about that slight . . . something . . . that she had heard in Ryoga’s voice. It had seemed different than his normal angst, which she was now well used to, and there was a lingering hint of alarm in her mind as she mulled it over and glanced at him surreptitiously. Before he’d shown up at the Tendo’s that morning, it had been a long time since she’d seen him, and part of her wondered now where he’d been hiding himself. Lost again? Training? He seemed a little thinner than usual, perhaps he had lost some weight working out in the mountains. For a moment, the red head rather envied Ryoga his freedom. What she wouldn’t give to be on the road again, away from the pressures of all the various iinazuke, school, parents . . . especially one certain parent. Just what was with her mother, and why the heck was the woman so insistent on making Ranko her little pet charity project, anyway? Her attentions were nerve-wracking, and had only been growing more intense in recent weeks. It didn’t make any sense, and Ranma hated mysteries of that sort.

While Ranma brooded about this, Ryoga fixed his eyes on the table in front of him, and fiddled with the hem of the tablecloth, wishing that he were anyplace but where he was. He bit his lower lip with the tip of a fang, entire body tensed to the point where he could almost hear the hum of his muscles in his ears. His miserable thoughts were running along very singular lines, like a mantra repeating over and over in his head. {( This was a bad idea. I should not have come back to Nerima. I’ve got to get out of here as soon as I can. Damn Ranma, anyway . . . )}

Ranma noticed Ryoga’s dour and uncomfortable expression and her thoughts were immediately jerked away from her mother’s meddling to focus on her always rampaging ego. ({ Oi . . . }) she thought rather indignantly. ({ Is being out on a date with me really -that- bad? Well, the hell with him, and mom too! She wants me to be the perfect little lady? I’ll show her just how damn bubbly and feminine I can be when my manhood is on the line! And if Ryoga wants to be miserable, then I’ll damn well give him something to be miserable about . . . })

Fueled with the mean and selfish desire that someone else suffer as much as she perceived she was, Ranma hopped up, bouncing pertly, ribbons and hair flouncing. With a bright smile, she grabbed Ryoga’s hand and pulled at him. "C’mon, Ryoga-kun! Let’s go!"

"Go?" Ryoga asked, looking up hopefully, ignoring the instinctive shiver that her use of an affectionate honorific sent up his back.

"Yes," she nodded as he pushed his chair back and stood. She began propelling him towards the other end of the restaurant, linking her arm in his, looking up at him with intense sparkling eyes. Ha. This would get him. "Let’s go dance!"

"D - dance?!" Ryoga squeaked. He stopped up short, yanking his arm away from her and giving her a seriously befuddled look that was tinged with warning anger. "I am -not- dancing with you!"

Ranma planted a beautiful and bedazzling false smile on her face, folding her hands at her chest and gazing at him with absolute and utter adoration in her shining sapphire eyes. "Onegai, Ryoga-honey? I’d really like to dance with you."

He shook his head and headed back to their table, ignoring the looks of disapproval that other patrons of the restaurant were now giving him. "No way."

Ranma followed him, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt and forcefully jerking him down so that she could hiss in his ear, still smiling vapidly. "Damn you Ryoga, this is a date and we’re going to have fun, come hell or highwater. You hear me?"

Ryoga shrugged her off furiously. "This is -not- a date, and I am -not- dancing with you, Ranma," he said firmly and sat himself at the table, crossing his arms over his chest and looking beyond angry and well into outraged. "I can’t believe that you would even ask something like that."

The lovely red-head fumed for a moment in frustration, then a dangerously crafty light began to twinkle in her stormy blue eyes. She returned to her seat and leaned on the table, smiling ever-so-sweetly at her scowling companion. "All right P-Chan, you don’t gotta dance with me," she purred lowly. "But, there is the small matter of a certain secret that you’d rather not have spread around . . . " she trailed off, letting the sentence dangle, while her expression shifted into one of sheer evil glee. It was near delightful to watch a furious flush of understanding spread over Ryoga’s features, and that alone almost made up for the many times the Lost Boy had attacked her needlessly with the intention of maiming.

"Ranma Saotome!" he snarled her name out like a curse, his fangs showing plainly. Diners who had gone back to their food and own conversations looked up again, many startled by the sudden flare of a red battle aura that ignited around the young man.

"Ryoga!" Ranma glanced around. "Rein it in! This is a public place, for Kami’s sake . . . "

Ryoga sputtered, upset and flustered. She started it and then thought she was gonna lecture -him-? Still, a sense of propriety won out over blinding fury, and he lowered his voice, but it was still laced with the intense tone of infuriation "You -swore- to me that you would never –"

She nodded, eyes narrowing as she smirked. "I sure did, but I’m not the only one who knows, remember? It’d be a shame if I hinted to them that certain people would be very interested in that sort of information."

Ryoga looked about ready to spring over the table and strangle her, and for a moment Ranma sincerely hoped that she hadn’t pushed him too far. Ryoga’s temperament was predictable in occurrence but not always in intensity, and he had a tendency to forget his training when he was angry, which normally resulted in a great deal of property damage. Ranma wasn’t exactly keen on the thought of juggling an explanation on how the restaurant had been destroyed when she faced her mother that night. And, truthfully, she had to wonder what had prompted her to start up with the teasing in the first place? She’d known that he’d react this way, yet she felt compelled to bait him regardless.

Ranma was secretly relieved when Ryoga took a deep breath and calmed himself down, apparently remembering once again that they were in a public place and perhaps subdued in a small way by the attention his growing fury was getting from the rest of the patrons. He settled, sinking back into his seat, but underneath the hostile glare was still visible in his eyes there was a sense of deep hurt and betrayal as well. Ranma winced at the expression, knowing that she was in the wrong. She had made him a promise of honor, after all, and now that was as good as broken. Ryoga was not going to forgive this one any time soon.

Feeling faintly guilty and wondering now what she could say that would nullify her threat, Ranma was very startled when Ryoga slowly nodded his head once and muttered, "All right," in a dark tone.

The guilt was growing, but Ranma swiftly took the out he had just given her and ran with it, reminding herself firmly that this was for a good cause. They had to make this date look legitimate, because one never knew what news would get back to Nodoka Saotome concerning their behavior tonight. Going out onto the floor to dance was actually a very good idea, because if her mother found out that Ranko was not a cousin of the Tendo clan but actually her own son, there would be major hell to pay. Thus rationalizing her bad behavior, Ranma mentally promised himself that she would make it up to Ryoga later, maybe by letting him get a few good hits in during a fight or something.

She got up and offered her hand to Ryoga. The dark-eyed boy glared at her for a long moment, then took her hand and stood. Ranma was a little surprised by how hot Ryoga’s skin seemed. Apparently he was very mad, but she was impressed by how well he was managing to keep himself in check. Ryoga didn’t usually possess that much self control. She gripped his hand firmly and led him across the restaurant, smiling sweetly at the other diners who were now paying a great deal of attention to their actions. She hoped that their brief tiff hadn’t caused too much of an impression that might somehow get back to Nodoka. Rumors of a little altercation she could probably pass off as nothing more than a lover’s quarrel, but anything more substantial might be difficult to dismiss.

({ Lover’s quarrel? Man, this is so pathetic, }) Ranma winced to herself as she led her reluctant companion on a weaving course between tables. ({ This just goes to show how low I’ve really sunk. I’m forcing Ryoga, of all people, to dance with me! Damn, maybe I -should- just let him kill me and put me out of my misery. Judging by the look he’s giving me, I wouldn’t have to ask twice. })

The floor was gently lit, and the band was playing a slow romantic tune that was perfect for close dancing. Ranma glanced at the other couples briefly to see how they were dancing so that he and Ryoga could emulate them, and was briefly dismayed to see that they were all positioned very close to their partners, moving in tight formation. Could she really stand to get that close to Ryoga and, more importantly, would he actually let her? For a heartbeat Ranma considered just giving up and taking the Lost Boy back to the table, but as she looked and around and saw other patrons watching them with interest, apparently curious to see how this admittedly unusual young couple would perform together, Ranma Saotome was forced to quickly re-gather her resolve.

She’d never passed on a challenge before, damn it all. And this was nothing compared to some of the things she’d faced! Letting her ego and pride once again get the best of her, she quickly attached her determination and vowed that she would not falter. Her manhood was resting on whether or not she managed to convince everyone that she was just a typical young woman on a typical date with a . . . mostly typical guy. Setting her jaw, eyes flashing rather hotly, she stopped at the center of the floor and turned to Ryoga. He came to a halt in front of her, an unnerved expression on his face, having apparently also noticed how close everyone else was dancing.

Ranma smiled slightly as she observed him. She had to admit, as disturbing as the thought was, that Ryoga was by far the most handsome young man on the floor, even looking as ruffled and uncertain as he was now. As she had mentioned before, he really -had- cleaned up nicely, and that came as a mild surprise to her. ({ Geeze, if Ryoga just made a bit more of an effort, he’d be able to attract a girlfriend in no time. He’s really pretty good looking . . . oi, that’s enough of that line of thought. I think my girl-half is starting to get to me, here. })

Grumbling and facepalming mentally, Ranma slipped one hand up onto Ryoga’s shoulder and snaked the other around his waist. With the same blankly terrified look of a deer caught in headlights, the young man froze at her touch.

"Ryoga," Ranma quickly became irritated, but tried to keep her face neutral and her voice in check. "C’mon boy, wake up. Your left hand goes on my waist, and your other hand . . . oh wait, you’re the man, you have to lead." She quickly changed the position of her hands, grabbing his at the same time and placing them where they should go. As she pressed herself as close to him as she could comfortably stand and nudged him into moving, Ranma again noticed absently that Ryoga seemed to be more slender than she remembered, unofficially confirming her suspicion that he had been away training.

"Ryoga, you have to lead," she reminded in a low whisper when he didn’t move. "Loosen up, man. Don’t you know anything about dancing?"

Ryoga’s reply was a nervous hiss. "No, Ranma. I don’t."

Ranma’s blue eyes widened and she looked up at him in surprise. "What? You mean you’ve never danced before?"

"N - no," Ryoga admitted, turning an almost sick shade of angry pink.

Ranma resisted the urge to laugh or say something teasing. Ticking Ryoga off now would not be a good idea, but she mentally filed this new information away to be used later when she felt like picking on him. She was a bit surprised that he had never danced before, but as she thought about it, she realized that it made sense. Ryoga was always on the move, he didn’t socialize or attend school anymore. His time was spent surviving on the road and honing his martial arts abilities. Dancing probably wasn’t very high on his list of skills to master.

"All right," she acquiesced. "I’ll lead. There ain’t nothing to this, so just relax and move with me. Just like sparring, only not as fast and not as violent. Are you with me here?"

Ryoga nodded silently, swallowing hard. She felt his grip on her tighten slightly as she began to move them in a slow tight box step, imitating the other dancers. It was far simpler than most of the footwork they were used to, so she wasn’t surprised that it took Ryoga only a few moments to master the movement. As soon as they were dancing in an acceptable fashion, Ranma leaned her body against his, resting her head against his shoulder to slyly watch the other patrons and gauge their reactions. Ryoga stiffened at first, but seemed resigned to his fate and relaxed into the dance as she settled into place in his arms.

({ Good, }) Ranma thought to herself a few moments later when most of the attention had shifted away from them. ({ The less of a scene we make, the better. I don’t want anything negative gettin’ back to mom about this whole charade. Hopefully, she’ll get the idea that Ranko don’t need to be hooked up with anyone and by tomorrow Ryoga’ll be lost again and this whole damn mess will just blow over. Well, until the next time mom gets a bright idea into her head, anyway. What the hell is with her lately? Why is she so interested in Ranko? })

Since she was stewing over her mother’s bizarre attentions, Ranma didn’t really notice at first that Ryoga had taken the lead in their dancing. Beneath her hands, he relaxed and was now guiding them over the floor as if they had been dancing together for years. When Ranma finally took note, she looked up to find that he had his eyes tightly shut, with a vaguely pained expression on his face, but was dancing with grace and poise regardless, illustrating clearly the benefit of years of training and work.

She had to wonder about the contradictions between his countenance and his movements, however. She would have expected anger or annoyance, but pain? Once again the faint mental alarms at the back of her head clicked on, reminding her of the earlier edge to Ryoga’s voice that had seemed so out of place. Without realizing it, she tightened her hold on him, fingers pressing against the firmness of his slender form.

"Oi," Ranma smirked up at him, hoping that a little good-natured barbing would smooth away that expression of pain, justifying her concern by pointedly reminding herself that this date had to seem real. She didn’t actually -care- if Ryoga was upset or not, after all, just so long as he didn’t look utterly miserable and ruin the illusion. "You’re a natural dancer, Ryoga. Who’d ‘a guessed that, ne?"

He frowned down at her warningly.

She chuckled lightly as a rather amusing thought popped into her mind. "Heh. Next time you get lost or are low on funds, you should hire yourself out as a male escort. I’ll even write you up a recommendation, cuz you’re doing great so - - "

Ranma trailed off abruptly as, to her surprise, Ryoga stiffened tightly and came to a halt in mid-step. Staring straight over her head, he pushed her away slowly, biting his lower lip with the tip of one fang in an obvious effort to hold back a torrent of sudden conflicting emotions that she saw briefly tumble together chaotically in his eyes. Anger, fear, confusion . . . but most startling of all - extreme pain. Ranma blinked, mystified and alarmed by that resurgence of pain, feeling her own stomach twist in response. It seemed as though she had crossed some invisible line with him, but she had no idea what that line was, and what could have merited such a surge of hurt?

"Ryoga?" she asked quietly, worried in spite of herself.

She saw him shut himself down then, saw him bring up a wall of concrete in his mind that abruptly and firmly blocked out whatever she had just released. Disturbingly, his expression smoothed out and his eyes took on a dead glaze.

In all the years she had known him, Ranma had never seen Ryoga so completely bury his emotions. It was more his nature to lose control, to unleash his rage or anger in violence, or to become so overwhelmed that he cried. This . . . this shutting down was almost creepy, and Ranma instantly understood that she had just dug up something that was far more serious than their minor scuffles, arguments or rivalry. Something was very very wrong here. Bad enough that Ryoga could not -would not- process it. But, what had prompted it? Something she said? The dancing? This whole date nonsense?

"I think our food is ready," Ryoga said in a flat lifeless tone she had never heard from him before. There was a slight underlying tremble to his words, but Ranma couldn’t pinpoint it exactly. Whatever was wrong, he was hiding it very well, and that was incredibly worrisome. But, Ranma nodded mutely and followed him back to their table, keeping hold of his hand to maintain the charade. His skin was still warm but his grip was slack, as if she weren’t even there.

Thoughts of her mother’s meddling forgotten, Ranma ate her dinner in the heavy silence Ryoga created, gazing across the table at him and wondering what had just happened.