This part of the story is a flashback, telling of when Ranma and Ryoga became blood brothers.
Interlude - Blood Brothers
All of the lights in the living room were off, save that which came from the television. Flickering images cast odd shadows along the walls, screens and ceiling of the room, as well as across the faces of the two young boys who sat enthralled before the movie they were watching. The slightly smaller of the two, Ranma Saotome, was positioned cross-legged on the floor, a half-empty bowl of popcorn beside him which was surrounded by a few kernels that had escaped his notice. His eyes were wide and intelligent, moving quickly as he read the subtitles being splashed across the bottom of the screen. His thick black hair was pulled back into a short pony tail.
The other boy was curled on the end of the couch, chewing incessantly on his left thumbnail. His name was Ryoga Hibiki. He looked vaguely worried, dark brown eyes large and heavy as he watched the movie. His hair, much shaggier and considerably less kept than his companion’s, was held back away from his eyes by a dark yellow bandana with black striping. As opposed to the smaller boy’s smartly fitting gi, Ryoga’s clothes looked worn and a few sizes too large for him. He seemed almost lost within them.
The two boys were alone in the house, which was not unusual. There was rarely anyone home at the Hibiki residence, save the youngest member of the family.
"That was pretty cool!" Ranma rocked forward on his knees to turn down the sound on the television as soon as the credits began to roll. He crushed a few pieces of popcorn accidently into the carpet. "Whoops," he said as he flicked away the remains. "Your mom isn’t gonna be mad at the popcorn on the floor, is she?"
The other boy sighed quietly. "No. If she makes it back here before it decomposes, I’ll be surprised."
Ranma looked a bit uncomfortable. Instead of commenting, he chose to change the subject back to something safer and more interesting. "Wasn’t that a good movie? American westerns are the best."
"I guess," Ryoga replied doubtfully. "I didn’t really understand it, though. I can’t read as fast as you do and I didn’t catch all of the sub-titles." He looked mildly ashamed.
He wasn’t as good at anything as Ranma was, and that was something that he was pretty much used to, but it still bothered him. Ryoga actually excelled at very little. Because he attended school only when he could find it, he was a below-average student, and usually struggled in his studies. At home, he was, for all intents and purposes, a neglected child. He had learned from necessity how to take care of himself and tend to his own needs, but the almost constant isolation took its toll on his personality. He was a distant but over-emotional person, and his continual mood-swings tended to scare away any potential friends.
Except for Ranma. Ryoga knew that Ranma had originally started hanging around with him only out of pity, perhaps sympathizing with the Lost Boy who never seemed to fit in. Ranma’s home life wasn’t exactly normal either, after all. It still surprised Ryoga that he and Ranma had evolved into close companions, and sometimes he really questioned that reality, not entirely secure with the concept of friendship.
"Well, what didn’t you understand?" Ranma rose from the floor, brushing popcorn off of his knees, and flopped down on the other side of the couch. Ranma often helped Ryoga out when he was confused over school work; he was rather comfortable in the role of teacher and protector. Across the room, the television continued to flicker away unnoticed.
"All of the stuff with the horses, I guess. I didn’t understand what the point of stealing them was," Ryoga replied in a low tone. Ranma may have been comfortable acting as Ryoga’s guide, but Ryoga himself wasn’t always as accepting of it. He didn’t like to admit that he didn’t understand, not wanting to seem stupid in the eyes of his one friend. "The gunfight was interesting, though, except I wasn’t sure who was the good guy and who was the bad guy."
"The bad guy always wears a black hat. That’s how you can tell he’s bad," Ranma explained, as if it was as simple as that, still young enough to be ignorant of grey areas.
"Oh," Ryoga thought about it for a moment. "All right, why did those two boys cut their hands like they did? I didn’t understand that."
"That was the best part!" Ranma’s dark blue eyes lit up and he hopped in his seat a bit, leaning towards Ryoga. "They were afraid that the horse thieves would separate them, so they took an oath that they would always be friends no matter what happened to them. They cut their hands and let their blood mingle as proof of their oath. It’s called being Blood Brothers."
Ryoga slowly smiled, an expression that he didn’t use often, but one that Ranma liked to see. "Blood Brothers?" The idea was appealing.
"Wanna do it?" Ranma asked eagerly.
That caught the other boy off-guard, and he shied away, shifting his gaze from Ranma almost immediately. "B - be Blood . . . Blood Brothers?" he stuttered, as was his tendency when he was nervous. "Y - you’d want to be . . . be . . . ? With me?"
"Of course. You’re my best friend, ain’t ya? C’mon Ryoga. Oyaji’s always dragging me off on training journeys without any warning, you get lost all of the time and, well, I want us to always be friends, no matter what happens or where we end up going. Just like the two boys in the movie. You saw how the story ended. They grew up and were forced to come face to face in a duel, but then they recognized each other at the last minute."
"After the one shot the other," Ryoga pointed out hesitantly, worry shadowing his eyes.
"Well, -that- part won’t happen to us!" Ranma laughed. "Please Ryoga?"
Ryoga gazed at his friend, who looked almost surreal highlighted by the bluish glow of the television. His heart beat hard in his chest. He loved Ranma so much! Ranma was the only light in his otherwise dreary existence, the only real friend he’d ever had. It was Ranma who helped him find his way to and from school everyday so that he could receive an education like everyone else. It was Ranma who was often there to keep him company when his family was gone heavens only knew where. It was Ranma who pushed and encouraged him in his martial arts training, one of the few things that even mattered to Ryoga in the least. Ryoga would do anything to keep Ranma’s friendship, anything to ensure that the boy remain part of his life. He needed Ranma so badly! Even as much as he didn’t like to admit his inadequacies, he wanted Ranma around to help him and guide him. Things didn’t seem nearly as bleak when the other boy was with him.
Ryoga nodded and whispered, "I want us to be friends forever too . . . "
Ranma burst into a smile, jumped forward and hugged Ryoga quickly. "Yosh! This will be great, Ryoga. Nothing will ever separate us, you’ll see."
Secretly, Ranma was relieved. He really hated the long training journeys that his father forced him to participate in, and the childish thought that he would always have Ryoga with him was comforting. Ranma was a very smart boy, and he recognized that something as simple and physical as a blood oath wouldn’t actually be able to keep them together, not really. But it was a nice thought regardless, and he knew that it would appeal to Ryoga, who spent a majority of his time alone.
The fact that the other boy shied away from his hug didn’t bother Ranma at all. He knew that Ryoga was skittish and withdrawn, the result of growing up without family or attention. Ranma liked Ryoga that much more for his reserve. And he enjoyed helping the other boy as much as he could. Ranma already had wonderful dreams of growing up to found a martial arts school with his best friend. The Saotome-Hibiki Anything-Goes School of Martial Arts. This would be the first step towards making that dream become a reality.
"Your mom have knives in the kitchen?" Ranma released Ryoga from the hug quickly and bounced off the couch, filled with eager energy.
"Y - yes. Or, I have the hunting knife my uncle gave me in my room," Ryoga suggested, sliding to his feet himself.
"That’s even better," Ranma agreed with a bright nod. He watched as Ryoga wandered out of the living room through one of the sliding doors that led to the other parts of the house. With a fond smile, Ranma called, "Ryoga . . . "
"I know," Ryoga reappeared, backing through the door to arrive in the living room again. "That was the dining room. I think."
"Yep. This way, silly." Ranma opened a different screen and pulled his friend down a short hallway to his room. Ranma was the one person who could call Ryoga names and escape the Lost Boy’s furious and hurt retaliation.
Ranma sat on the low futon while Ryoga dug around in the large traveling pack he always had prepared and ready. Ranma was a bit surprised by the various items Ryoga dragged out as he looked for his knife. Considering that he was virtually clueless in all other respects, Ryoga’s pack was remarkably well-stocked and prepared for any eventuality. There were fishing supplies, water-proof matches and tinder, an extensive first-aide kit, water conditioning pills, lots of freeze-dried foods and instant ramen, and several emergency flares, thermal blankets, a sleeping roll, a couple changes of clothes, and a tent. No wonder that pack was so heavy! Ryoga was obviously quite strong to be able to carry all that around with him, but Ranma knew that from sparring with him.
Ranma fiddled with a compass that Ryoga had pulled out. "Ryo-kun, do you even know how to use this?" he asked teasingly, holding it up.
Ryoga looked at him with a vaguely blank expression, the tip of one fang showing. He flushed lightly. "I - uh - had an orienteering class once, but I didn’t really understand most of it," he admitted quietly.
"I could teach you," Ranma offered.
"I don’t think it would help," Ryoga sighed, then found what he was looking for. He pulled the hunting knife out of the bottom of the pack and handed it to Ranma so that he could replace all of the other items. Ranma turned the knife over in his hands, examining it with a pleased light in his eyes.
For a basic hunting tool, it was an exceptionally well-made knife. Its blade was encased in a study leather sheath that could be hooked to a belt, and it was decorated with beaded fringe. The hilt was fashioned of steel and an ebony material of some sort, inlaid with an attractive pattern of peridot. Ranma pulled the blade from its bed, whistling softly at the flash of metal which greeted him. It was Damascus steel, forged and folded so many times that nothing short of the end of the world would break it, and the surface was scrolled with thousands of tiny intricate dark whorling lines. The back edge of the blade sported large serrations and the working edge was razor sharp. It was considerably more than Ranma had excepted.
"Wow Ryoga!" he exclaimed. "Your uncle gave you this?"
"Yeah. He picked it up on a trip somewhere. Nice, huh?" Ryoga smiled faintly, secretly pleased that Ranma was impressed with the knife.
"It’s great! C’mon, leave the rest of that stuff. Turn the light down and get up here." Ranma patted the mattress of the futon.
Ryoga did as instructed, turning off the lights. The distant glow from the television down the hall and the street light outside were the only sources of illumination, lending a mystical element to what they were about to do. Ryoga lowered himself down cross-legged facing Ranma, looking nervous and expectant, his gently rounded face nearly lost in the dark.
"Now," Ranma began with a warm smile for his best friend, his eyes catching a twinkle from the street lamp. "Hold out your right hand, palm up. I’ll cut you, then you cut me. All right?"
Ryoga nodded silently, extending his hand. Carefully, leaning down so that he could see better, Ranma poked the sharp tip of the knife blade into the other boy’s palm and pulled a cut through the skin lightly. The color of Ryoga’s blood was black in the low light, and it welled up from the cut in thick abyssal drops. Ranma glanced up.
"Did that hurt?"
"No," Ryoga replied truthfully. He took the knife from Ranma and, with his undamaged hand, repeated the ritual on his friend.
Quickly, they clasped hands, lacing their fingers together and pressing their palms as tightly as they could. The cuts tingled warmly, sending electric shivers down their arms as their blood mingled together. Smirking, Ranma reached up and snatched one of the headbands from Ryoga’s hair. He snapped the knot out of it, and wrapped it loosely around their wrists.
"Let’s say an oath, to really make this binding," Ranma suggested, squeezing Ryoga’s hand. He was hiding it well, but Ranma could feel the other boy trembling slightly. He inched just a bit closer and tried to come up with something that sounded reassuring, binding and permanent. "Now that we’re united by our blood, we’ll always be together, no matter how far apart we are," Ranma whispered insistently, his voice dropping with the seriousness of his oath. "And we’ll always take care of each other. No matter what happens. Do you swear?"
"I s - swear . . . " Ryoga promised softly. He felt the oath with all of his heart, gazing with an unblinking stare at the boy in front of him.
"I swear, too," Ranma agreed.
They held the position for several long moments, just looking at each other, as if memorizing every detail that they could. Between their pressed palms, a warmth was birthed and grew, sliding up their arms and passing between them in soft waves which kept rhythm with their heartbeats. Ryoga was the first to look down, intimidated by the moment. He noticed the black blood dripping from their hands onto the blanket they were sitting on, but it really didn’t seem very important.
Ranma smiled to himself at Ryoga’s shyness. It was such an endearing trait, and Ranma liked the thought that he would always be close enough to protect and guide Ryoga.
He unwound the bandanna, noticing the dark stains of blood on the blanket. "Damn," he frowned. "Gomen, your mom is gonna be mad."
"She won’t notice," Ryoga replied flatly. He watched as Ranma used the bandanna to wipe the excess blood from his cut, feeling rather lonely again now that Ranma had taken his hand away. Ryoga looked down at the knife he still held, then wiped the blade clean on his pant leg.
"You keep the knife," Ranma ordered, "to remind you of our oath the next time you get lost."
Ryoga glanced up. "What about you?"
"I’ll keep the bandanna," Ranma said brightly, leaning forward to take Ryoga’s hand. He carefully wiped the blood from his friend’s cut as well, then made a great show of precisely smoothing out the stained square of material, folding it and tucking it away in his gi. He smiled up at the other boy, very pleased with what they had done. "Now neither of us will ever be alone again."
There was a strange twisting feeling in the pit of Ryoga’s stomach. He squeezed his right hand into a tight fist, marveling at the sensation of the cut pulling as he did so. The thought that he now shared Ranma’s blood was at once comforting and frightening, but he knew that he would much rather carry Ranma with him at all times than be alone any more. He bit at his lower lip with the tip of a fang and fought to keep his emotions in check. He didn’t want to tear up like some weak little idiot just when Ranma had sworn this oath with him. What if Ranma decided not to be his friend anymore? Could an oath be taken back once it was said? Ryoga didn’t want to find out. He met Ranma’s shadowed eyes. "Th - th - thank you, Ranma . . . " Ryoga breathed softly.
Ranma drew him into a hug, wrapping strong young arms around him and pulling him close. Though Ryoga normally shied away from physical interaction, he was more than happy to permit this embrace, leaning against his best friend until Ranma was motivated to lay back on the futon. There, in the oddly flickering dark, the two boys held each other, Ranma with his face buried in the softness of Ryoga’s hair, Ryoga listening to Ranma’s calm, even heartbeat. Neither of them were quite old enough to identify the feelings they felt, or to recognize that this peace would be fleeting. Ranma only knew that he wished he could hold Ryoga in the protective shelter of his arms forever.
And Ryoga prayed that Ranma would never let go.