Chapter Three - Journey’s Beginning
Ranma Saotome told himself that he wasn't looking for Ryoga.
He was up before the sun that morning, slipping out of the Tendo residence to seek the cold autumn air of the grey hours before dawn. The young black-haired man followed a deceptively leisurely course through the neighborhood, taking to the fence tops, hands in the deep pockets of his black pants. As he strolled, he paid little attention to his surroundings, his stormy blue eyes unfocused and thoughtful. Despite his preoccupation, his feet seemed to know where he was going. And though he reminded himself repeatedly that he -wasn’t- looking for Ryoga, he really could think of no other reason why he should be out so early, when the breeze was still stiff and carrying the scents of the night. To the east, the sky was just starting to lighten, and the dark blue color seemed to match his mood exactly. His light steps over the top of various fences belied the heavy thoughts in his head.
He still wasn't completely sure how things had gone so wrong, but they had, and in a big way. He had spent a restless night, plagued by half-waking memories of Ryoga’s mouth on his and the feel of the Lost Boy’s arms around him. His dreams had taken things several steps further, into erotic realms that were at once embarrassing and stimulating, but throughout it all, the underlying image of Ryoga’s haunted look remained with him.
But . . . but Ranma wasn't out looking for Ryoga now. He was just out walking, enjoying the morning air, thinking. If he happened to run into the other young man . . . well, it wouldn't hurt to make sure he was all right. Though, knowing Ryoga, there was no way to tell where he would be by now. It was certainly doubtful that he had managed to make it home in one night.
Ranma sighed again and looked up to see where he was. He had wandered into a newer section of the neighborhood it seemed, where construction was underway. The skeletal structures of half-formed buildings gleamed in the light of the rising sun, casting strange shadows in the dirt. Open holes, ready for foundations gaped like hungry mouths, looking for the unwary to fall in. Dinosaurian equipment waited for the morning work crew to arrive, yellow painted surfaces sporting a light coating of dew. Ranma walked along one of the construction fences, thoughtfully taking in the quiet yards and future homes.
Future? What sort of future lay ahead for him? Ranma was acutely aware of his obligations to family honor and his father’s wishes, but despite all of that, he really had no desire to marry. Would he ever be able to attain his own satisfaction, or was he really chained to his father’s pact with Soun Tendo? Once again letting his feet lead him, Ranma drifted back into thought, wondering about the direction his life was taking.
How much longer could he continue to hide the truth of his Jusenkyo curse from his mother? Last night had been just one more trial after a long string of such, and the heat appeared to be growing ever more pressuring. And what about all this nonsense with his various iinazuke? When was that going to end? Ranma supposed and begrudgingly admitted that on some level he had grown comfortable with the status quo, but last night’s unsettling date simply drove home a suspicion that he had been harboring for quite some time. He had been avoiding too much for far too long. It was time that certain situations came to an end. Ranma could not go on carrying multiple iinazuke and various hopefuls like this, he had to make a decision and stand up to it. It wasn't going to be easy for any of them, but they were almost adults now and it was time that they all faced the mess they were in.
Even though he plastered an I-don't-care attitude on the surface of his personality and often he allowed himself to sink into thoughtlessness, deep down Ranma didn't want to hurt anyone. But he also couldn't continue to deny the plain and simple truth: he didn't want any of his iinazuke.
He didn’t really know why, but he never had. And he wanted to be rid of them all, to loosen the weight of impending responsibility that seemed to hang around his neck like a noose. He didn’t need to be saddled with this kind of angst, and he craved an end to it. A selfish decision? Perhaps, but Ranma was sick of the war, tired of the endless arguments and weary of continuing to defend himself against repeated rivals. Especially a certain rival . . .
He was firm in his conviction, but not quite as resolute when it came to actually following up on his decision. How could he look into Shampoo’s deep amethyst eyes and break the news to her? Where would he find the strength to face Ukyo, his friend since early childhood, and strip away the final hope of regaining her lost honor? He was loathe to confront even Kodachi, as crazy as she was on occasion, with the news of his decision. And Akane . . . well, Akane came with the added baggage of the dojo and father’s agreement with Tendo-san.
Damn it all! Ranma had faced some of the most impossible odds, some of the most fearsome enemies, all with a cocky smile on his face and a catchy tune in his head. Why did the thought of confronting a group of girls and two old men terrify him so much? Was it actually his mother’s katana that scared him, or was it something much deeper? Something that he’d tasted a hint of last night when he and Ryoga shared a kiss?
The rising sun caught a glint of metal from the construction yards just right, flashing into Ranma’s eyes. He looked up, squinting slightly and shielding his vision with one hand. According to a nearby sign, the wall he was balancing on surrounded the site of a future office building. There were already large holes scarring the earth for the foundation, and cementing machines were in place, waiting for the crews to arrive. In the midst of it all, Ranma was startled to recognize a small battered-looking dome tent, pitched right at the edge of one of the holes. He blinked several times, hunkering down and resting his elbows casually across his knees.
({ Well, what do you know? }) he mused to himself. ({ That’s definitely Ryoga’s tent. Now how do you suppose he got in there? Idiot. He was probably wandering around last night until it was too dark to see. He’s lucky he didn’t fall into that hole and break his neck. I’d better go make sure the jerk is all right. })
Ranma hopped down into the construction yard and approached the tent, which was still sealed up securely against the cool autumn air of the waning night. He stopped just outside and stood with his hands tucked at the base of his neck.
"Oi Ryoga!" he called, putting just the right amount of playful scorn in his voice that he hoped would put the Lost Boy, and himself, at ease. "You in there? You didn’t make it very far last night. Did you get lost again, P-Chan?"
No answer came from within. Ranma frowned and felt slightly uneasy. Ryoga had been pretty upset last night. Crying jags and manic depression were not unusual for the Lost Boy. But, he wouldn’t have done something stupid . . . would he? After all, it was just one kiss . . . but Ryoga was always so damn emotional . . .
"Ryoga?" Inexplicably worried, Ranma stepped forward, bending down and quietly unzipping the front flap of the tent. He bent to one knee and lifted the material out of the way so that he could peer inside.
Ryoga lay curled up in his sleeping bag on his side, eyes shut softly in sleep. His breathing was slow, steady and just barely audible. Ranma was unexpectedly struck by how young his rival looked when he was unguarded in such a way, his face smoothed out of its usual scowl and hair tousled over his eyes and nose in a haphazard manner. Beneath the shadow of his bangs, however, dried tear stains marred his cheek. He had his arms wrapped around himself in a gesture of protection and the need for comfort. Ranma felt his stomach twist in response and crawled into the tent, seating himself cross-legged beside the sleeping young man.
"Aw, Ryoga," Ranma whispered, a soft compassion in his tone. "I’m sorry for dragging you into my mess. You don’t deserve that kind of angst."
He found himself reaching out to brush a lock of dark hair from Ryoga’s closed eyes and pressed his lips tightly together as he studied the line of Ryoga’s forehead and nose. The young man had a strong face, but it was softened by a vulnerability that Ranma had never exactly taken the time to notice before. Strange, but he could not recall ever seeing Ryoga look so open.
Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Ranma gazed down at Ryoga. ({ When we went to school together, he looked like this a lot. He seemed lighter, and he used to smile now and then. I remember I liked it when he smiled. But now, I can’t remember the last time I saw Ryoga smile. I mean really smile, not that maniacal grin he gets sometimes, but like he used to whenever he was happy. })
Ranma shook his head. There was no point in dwelling on thoughts like that. Things had changed a lot between them since they’d gone to school together, and it was too bad, because Ranma had really enjoyed and depended on Ryoga’s friendship. Now he was just another rival . . . or he had been until last night.
Ranma continued to gently stroke the Lost Boy’s soft hair, losing himself in thought. Though Ryoga had always been dark and angry, it was his quieter moods that had originally drawn Ranma into their friendship. Often confused and uncomfortable with socializing or doing the normal things other kids did, Ryoga had been a loner, not very well liked, and a rather poor student. Since his own life was usually so transient and unstable, Ranma could sympathize with him, and didn’t even mind his temper because on some level he knew that Ryoga only lashed out in response to fear or confusion. The time they had spent together was both a fond and painful memory for Ranma, though one he hadn’t thought of in years.
He sighed softly and was a little surprised when he refocused his gaze and saw that he was running a finger down the smooth surface of Ryoga’s cheek.
Ranma jerked his hand away sharply. What on earth was he doing?!
Ryoga stirred fitfully, his brows creasing into a more familiar scowl, and he drew in a long breath, the tip of one fang showing as he opened his mouth. Slowly rolling onto his back, he pushed with annoyance at the sleeping bag. "Hmmm - nani - ?" he muttered.
Ranma froze. Even though he had originally intended to wake Ryoga, it now suddenly seemed absolutely imperative that he not be caught in this tent! Grinding his teeth together silently, Ranma held himself perfectly still, slowing his breathing and waiting for Ryoga to settle back into deeper sleep. ({ Please don’t wake up, Ryoga! }) Ranma pleaded mentally. ({ You would pitch a major fit if you woke up to find me here, and for once . . . I don’t want that. })
After what seemed like several eternities, Ryoga’s scowl softened again and his head turned to one side. Ranma thanked Kami-sama that Ryoga was a heavy sleeper, and waited for a few more minutes, carefully watching the rise and fall of the young man’s chest, anxious for the rhythm to even itself out.
As he waited, Ranma noticed that Ryoga now lay with his right hand palm up. His skin was tough from roughing-it so much, and it was obvious that his grip was well-developed as a result of his training, but that was not what caught Ranma’s eye. It was a thin but highly visible scar, a small slash mark which Ranma knew he himself had made.
Blinking, Ranma looked at the palm of his own right hand. His own scar was barely discernible, but he smiled slightly as the memory of two young impressionable boys becoming blood brothers after seeing it done in an American western came back to him for the first time in years.
It was difficult to remember something like that when he seemed to be constantly fighting the one he had sworn the oath with.
A soft wave of guilt rose in Ranma’s stomach, and he looked down as Ryoga reflexively clenched his hand in his sleep. He remembered Ryoga’s shadowed look of nervous anticipation as they sat together in a darkened room of the Hibiki residence and used one of the Lost Boy’s hunting knives to make the cuts on their palms. They had done it because Ryoga was always getting lost, Ranma’s father was constantly dragging his son off on training journeys, and the two boys had wanted to be together forever, no matter how far apart they were. It felt so good to have a friend like that in the midst of the turmoil of their young lives. But as they got a little older, things changed. Ranma had pushed Ryoga away, and since then, he had berated the Lost Boy, teased him, fought with him, knocked him into a cursed spring . . . why? Why had he done all that?
Sighing softly to himself, Ranma silently retreated out of the tent, careful that he did not further disturb its sleeping occupant.
In a few moments, he was perched on the construction wall once again, this time positioned behind a silently waiting backhoe. He was closer to the tent then he had been earlier and had a good view of it, but he hoped that the machinery would camouflage him if Ryoga came out while he was still there.
Watching the tent with dark blue eyes, Ranma wondered what was with him. Why didn’t he just go back to the Tendo Dojo and try to put all of this behind him, the same way he had shoved aside the friendship he and Ryoga had once shared? When it was so much easier to just pretend he didn’t give a damn, why was he sitting out here on this wall, watching Ryoga’s tent, and what the hell had he been thinking, touching Ryoga like some kinda . . . well . . . ?
Ranma had never even considered anything like that . . . okay, that was a lie . . . actually he -had-. After all, as much as he hated to admit it, his girl-half -was- female, and there were times when she found herself attracted to or thinking hentai thoughts about some boys that she encountered. But until last night, Ranma had never had those types of thoughts when he was a guy and certainly not about Ryoga! Ryoga was a rival, a buddy, a . . . a . . .
Ranma swallowed down a hard mouthful of air, lowering his head for a moment. That was also a lie. There had been plenty of times, back when they were still friends and still close, that Ranma had privately acknowledged feelings for Ryoga that were far stronger than mere friendship should have merited. But he had been young then. He hadn’t understood the significance behind those emotions. He’d only known that, for whatever reason, Ryoga was his best friend whom he wanted to be with more than anyone else. In light of what had happened last night, those innocent recollections now seemed somehow tainted and wrong . . .
When he looked up again, Ranma was startled to find that Ryoga had emerged from the tent.
The sun was now just above the horizon, and the filter of atmosphere filled the sky overhead with the splashed colors of morning. It seemed as if each of those colors somehow found Ryoga as he stepped out to face the day, highlighting the curves of his slim muscles lowly. The slightly chill autumn breeze ruffled his dark hair, which was already tousled from sleep. He looked around, obviously rather surprised to find himself in a construction yard when he had undoubtedly expected to be someplace else. Ranma saw him take note of his proximity to the foundation hole with a disapproving scowl on his face.
Looking rather annoyed, Ryoga rubbed at the back of his head and then took up a position in front of the tent directly in Ranma’s line of sight. The unseen spy was able to pick out that the undershirt Ryoga wore was loose around his chest and the shorts he wore also seemed a trifle large, confirming Ranma’s suspicions that the young man had lost weight. Normally, the Lost Boy was built heavier than Ranma, sturdier and physically much stronger, though as Kasumi had observed, the two young men were about the same size. It was his speed that gave Ranma the edge over Ryoga, that and his even temper. If Ryoga didn’t fly off the handle so easily, he would have been a much more formidable opponent.
Ranma bit his lip as he carefully studied the muscles visible beneath the hang of Ryoga’s undershirt. The young man was obviously keeping up with his training, for he was wiry and firm, but his muscles were not as well-sculpted as they should have been. Even in what looked to be poor health, however, his strength was obvious in the solid play of his muscles as he stretched long and slow, slipping easily into a smooth series of katas.
Ranma watched, fascinated. He and Ryoga regularly sparred or fought, but Ranma had never before taken the time to actually watch the other young man at their sport. Nor did Ryoga often take things slow and easy, so this was a rather rare opportunity to observe Ryoga’s steady movements and strength, to watch the practiced and expert way he executed the various positions of the katas. Each gesture was precise and every step was placed with purposeful assurance.
Ranma was impressed, and as he continued to watch, he felt his pulse quickening. He could see the power and energy that lived just beneath the surface of Ryoga’s skin, and it was indeed a captivating sight. Shimatta . . . where were these thoughts coming from? Why did watching Ryoga seem to raise his body temperature much higher than could be accounted for by the shine of the morning autumn sun? Why did his mouth feel so dry?
He was disappointed when Ryoga finished his exercise and disappeared back into the tent to dress and prepare to break camp. Ranma slipped deep into thought as he watched the other man go through the motions of pulling down the tent and rolling his things into his ever-present pack. ({ Ryoga . . . I’ve never really thought about anything like this before, but . . . is this why I don’t want to marry any of my iinazuke? Because I’m . . . I’m . . . }) He balked at the very idea. ({ No, I can’t be ga – that way. I mean, when Mikado kissed me, I was just about ready to rip him open. And Kuno! Cripes, I’m not even going to think about that perv. But, when it comes to Ryoga . . . shimatta . . . })
It seemed like too simple of an answer, and one that he was not entirely comfortable with. He was a martial artist after all, a man! All the nonsense he’d endured last night had been to prove that very point! He could not be attracted to another man, it was a ridiculous notion. Yet, as he followed Ryoga through the Tokyo streets, keeping his distance so that the Lost Boy wouldn’t notice his presence, the notion took on more realistic properties.
Though Ranma had been occasionally attracted to the various women in his life, he found the idea of deepening a relationship with any of them rather distasteful. He wondered briefly if that was an influence of his girl-half, who would be sure to flee from any sort of lesbian friendship. But . . . but wouldn’t a gay relationship be just as undesirable? As he watched Ryoga puzzle his way through the streets, Ranma couldn’t decide.
({ Have I always been attracted to Ryoga and just never realized it? Or did I realize it when we were younger? Was that why I pushed him away? But what about all the fights and bickering since then? }) Ranma wondered, pausing behind a stand-up store sign while Ryoga asked someone for directions.
As the morning wore on, more and more people were emerging, opening up businesses and filling the streets. It was weekend, and with all of the people around even Ranma, who had a highly developed sense of direction, was feeling slightly disoriented. He could imagine that it was a hundred times more difficult for Ryoga. Where did he think he was he going, anyway? If he was trying to leave town as he often did when he was upset, then he was definitely heading the wrong way. He’d end up at Tokyo Tower if he kept in this direction.
Ranma sighed softly to himself, glittering eyes watching Ryoga intently. Even confused as he was, Ryoga seemed decidedly attractive, with the same strange sense of vulnerability that he exhibited while sleeping. On the occasions when he would turn to look around and Ranma caught sight of his face, he could plainly see the sadness and depression reflected in Ryoga’s large dark eyes, and he felt his insides twist in response. It occurred to him that he didn’t like to see Ryoga hurting. It was like standing by and watching someone beat an innocent pet.
So, why then had he spent so much time teasing and picking on the Lost Boy?
({ The jerk, }) Ranma frowned, trying to install some normalcy into his train of thought. ({ I’d better make sure he don’t run into trouble, or get too lost. })
Ranma looked around and pinpointed his location easily. They were actually pretty close to familiar territory. Springing up to the top of a nearby wall, Ranma took to the rooftops, hopping quickly from building to building in an effort to get ahead of Ryoga. He anticipated where the other young man would be and crouched on the corner of a pagoda-shaped roof to wait for him, idly watching the other pedestrians roam by beneath him.
After several minutes had passed, Ranma realized that Ryoga was not going to come the way he thought, so took off over the roofs again, staying close to the edge so that he could see down into the streets. It was some time before he located his quarry again, and by that time he was starting to get rather frustrated and hungry. He had left the Tendo Dojo long before breakfast, after all. He found Ryoga wandering up a small side street, heading in a completely new direction.
({ That idiot, }) Ranma grumbled to himself uncharitably. ({ With his lousy sense of direction, it’s a wonder that we -ever- see him. }) With a soft growl, Ranma sprinted on ahead, this time keeping an eye on the other young man’s progress.
In a few minutes, Ranma was startled to realize that he was on the roof of Ucchan’s restaurant. Even just thinking about his old friend’s tasty okonomiyaki made his stomach growl greedily. But he couldn’t go eat now, he had to keep an eye on Ryoga.
({ Keep an eye on Ryoga? }) Ranma groaned to himself. ({ Who the heck am I trying to kid? Ryoga don’t need me to look out for him. I’m following him b’cause I want to watch – no, b’cause we need to talk. I can’t just blow this one off like I always do. Sooner or later, I’m gonna to have to find the nerve to face him about last night. That other stuff . . . well, that’s all gonna have to wait until I can deal with it myself before I even dare say something to him about it! })
Ryoga paused beneath him, hands wrapped around the straps of his pack, gazing at the front of the building. At first he looked angry, undoubtedly dismayed to find himself in familiar territory when he was apparently trying to leave town. Then the Lost Boy’s expression abruptly changed. He seemed to be deliberating, unsure. He glanced around at the activity on the streets, and Ranma crouched low to avoid being spotted as Ryoga scanned upwards, contemplating the sky and the time of day. After several moments, he sighed softly and trudged into the establishment.
Ranma frowned and leaned forward to peer over the edge of the roof. The morning breeze ruffled his black hair, bringing just a hint of autumn bite with it, as Ranma wondered whether or not he should follow Ryoga in. This would be a good opportunity to corner the boy and perhaps talk sensibly to him, but Ranma didn’t move. Apprehensive tension caused his nerves to sing and he swallowed hard, trying to find the courage within himself to face his rival about the kiss they had shared.
*********************************
Ukyo looked up at the sound of someone sliding open the door and entering, turning to find Ryoga paused just inside the door, heavy pack on his back. He looked a little tired and bleary, his thick dark hair tousled from being subjected to the light winds outside. The young okonomiyaki chef currently didn’t have much of an opinion of Ryoga. As long as he didn’t destroy anything and wasn’t trying to kill Ranma, then she didn’t mind him too much and considered him a fair-weather kind of friend. Every now and then she even thought that Ryoga was almost cute in a overly-emotional disoriented kind of way, if one liked that sort of thing. Frankly, she much preferred Ranma, but then, it seemed as if most of the females in Nerima did.
"Ryoga," Ukyo smiled brightly. "Ohayo gozaimasu, sugar. You’re my first customer of the day. Come on in and sit down."
Ryoga returned her greeting, in his usual vaguely uncomfortable manner, with an expression that wasn’t quite a smile. He came to the counter and shrugged off his pack, setting it aside. Taking a seat on one of the stools, he glanced up at her menu board through the thick veil of his bangs.
"Haven’t seen you in quite awhile," Ukyo commented, spreading some oil out on the grill in preparation for his order.
"Been out of town."
"Why doesn’t that surprise me?" she smirked. "What’ll it be, hon?"
Ryoga considered for a moment longer, then quietly ordered three of his usual. Ukyo raised an eyebrow at him but got to work right away.
"Three? My, our little Lost Boy has a big appetite today," she said teasingly, quickly chopping up the extra toppings she knew he liked on his okonomiyaki.
He blushed a bit at her playful tone. "W - well, one is for here. Would you mind wrapping up the other two for the road?"
"Sure thing, sugar," she nodded, and eyed him sideways as she cooked. "But, you’re heading out again so soon?" He was looking a little thin, and she didn’t think it was a very good idea for him to be wandering around the countryside if he wasn’t feeling well. She didn’t say that to him, of course, because then she would run the risk of sounding like she cared about him. But, he -was- a friend. Sort of.
Nodding, Ryoga reached down and fiddled in one of his pockets for a moment. He pulled out a slim wallet and opened it. "And I’m actually glad I wandered this way before I left town. I’d like to even up my tab. How much do I owe you?"
Ukyo blinked, pausing for a moment. "I’d have to add it up, but you know I don’t expect tab payments until next month. I’m sure you’ll be back by then. You might need your money if you get really lost and run out of food or something," she said as gently as possible, not wanting to offend him. She thought she saw a brief flash of pain cross his face, but it was gone before she could confirm that it was actually there. Ukyo resisted the urge to frown. Whatever his angst, she reminded herself that it wasn’t her concern.
"I don’t plan on coming back, Ukyo-san," he replied, keeping his head lowered and his concentration on the wallet as he lightly fingered the bills inside it.
"Uh-huh. I’ve heard that one before, hon," Ukyo smirked slightly, sliding his first okonomiyaki across the grill to him. "C’mon, sweetie. We both know that even if you don’t want to come back, eventually you’ll be so lost that you’ll end up here anyway."
Ryoga grimaced and picked at one of the shrimp topping his food. "Believe what you want, Ukyo. But I’m going to do whatever I can to prevent ever setting foot in Nerima again."
This time, Ukyo did frown. Okay, Ryoga was always saying that he was leaving for one reason or another, usually having to do with Akane. It was one of those things that she now simply expected to hear from him on a fairly regular basis, and she usually put absolutely no stock in the statement whatsoever, since eventually he always showed up again. But this time . . . this time there was something in his tone that had never been there before, something that caught her attention. She couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but it bothered her.
"All right Ryoga," she acquiesced, pausing in her cooking to get him something to drink. She set a cup of tea in front of him, leaned down and stared intently at him. "Why?"
"Uhm . . . " Ryoga was not comfortable with direct confrontations, and stuttered as he often did when feeling uneasy. "I - I have to . . . I have no - no reason to stay . . . "
Ukyo tsked in mild exasperation, straightening and going back to her cooking, retrieving her spatula. "Ryoga-kun, you do this every time things get a little rough. Now, don’t be silly. Nerima is your home."
Swallowing hard, Ryoga raised his eyes to meet hers, then quickly withdrew his glance. His right fist tightened reflexively. "I don’t have a home, Ukyo-san."
"Sure you do," Ukyo was startled by the light of despair she had seen briefly in his eyes. She tried to ease things up a bit, switching back to a playful tone as she sauteed. "You just can’t ever find it."
Ryoga seemed to neither notice or appreciate her attempt. He looked away, focusing his sight on nothing. "No, I - I don’t have a home. I have a house where s - sometimes I can find my family, but most of the time it’s empty because none of them remember where it is any more than I do."
The okonomiyaki chef turned back towards him, her blue eyes widening with surprise. Ryoga was often bitter or angry, and he certainly did his fair share of both complaining and lamenting, but she had never heard him use that sort of tone of absolute desolate misery before.
No . . . that wasn’t entirely true. Once, when they were trapped on the wandering island of Togenkyo, he had fallen under a spell cast by one of their foes that made it seem as if his worst fears had been realized. Ukyo remembered that his words, "The world is a dark and lonely place," had been delivered in exactly the same tone, one of complete and utter surrender.
She wasn’t sure what to say to him now, but as it was she didn’t have the chance to make a reply. The sound of the front door abruptly sliding open startled them both in the silence that followed Ryoga’s words. Together they looked up to see Ranma step in.
Ukyo felt unexpected relief flood her. Ranma would know what to do about this strange mood Ryoga was in, either by cheering him up or getting him so mad that he snapped out of it, the latter being the most likely of the two scenarios. Though she didn’t relish the property damages that would result from a fight between these two, she was willing to overlook it if it took this problem out of her hands. "Hello Ran-chan!" Ukyo beamed, raising a spatula in greeting.
Ranma nodded at her once, and then fixed his gaze on Ryoga. His dark blue eyes were shadowed and serious, and Ukyo realized that he already knew there was something wrong. Her smile faded. What was this now?
Ryoga shifted away immediately. His face tightening and his eyes going alarmingly blank, he stood and pulled some of the money out of his wallet. Setting it on the counter, he glanced up at Ukyo. "Never mind the other two, Ukyo-san. I hope this is enough to cover everything."
She was startled. "What?"
He hefted his pack and slung it onto his back. Ranma quickly stepped forward. "Ryoga, man, hold up a minute," he requested, reaching out to stop the Lost Boy.
Ryoga avoided his touch, almost upsetting several tables in his haste, and skirting around him. "Leave me alone, Ranma," his voice was tight, but without the tone of threat that might have been expected from him. In fact, he sounded almost . . . fearful? Ryoga afraid of Ranma? Ukyo blinked several times, trying to get that notion to make sense.
"No way, buddy. I think we need to talk," Ranma tried to grab him again, nabbing him by the sleeve of his shirt and drawing him back, despite Ryoga’s agitated resistance. "Sit down and finish eating. You need the food, you’ve lost weight."
Ryoga yanked sharply away from him, scowling darkly, but not meeting Ranma’s eyes. "There’s nothing to talk about."
"Nothing? Oh, that’s the understatement of the century, pal, and you know it. What is wrong with you? You have been acting flaky ever since you showed up yesterday, and then last night - - "
"N - nothing happened last night!" Ryoga cut him off quickly, whirling to break for the door again. He had almost reached it, when Ranma called after him.
"Ryoga, I don’t hate you."
The Lost Boy froze immediately in front of the door. He stared blankly for a long moment, then closed his eyes, lowering his head. His entire countenance seemed to lose strength and he appeared to sag under the weight of his pack. There was a very heavy silence, during which Ukyo looked from Ryoga to Ranma, wondering what in the world was going on. As much as she wanted to speak up, she stayed out of it. Obviously, something had happened between them and they needed the space to work it out if possible. An odd feeling of dread was slowly building in her stomach. This could not possibly be what it looked like . . . could it?
Ranma stepped forward slowly, placing one foot quietly in front of the other as if he were approaching a skittish wild animal. "I don’t hate you," he repeated in lower pitch, his voice more soothing. Somehow, instinctively, the pig tailed martial artist sensed that this was something Ryoga needed to hear from him, to let the wanderer know that last night’s events were forgiven and the important thing now was to discover exactly -why- they had happened.
And apparently, Ranma was right, because Ryoga remained still, though his hands tightened into firm fists at his side. "That’s . . . " he began in a hesitant whisper. "Th - that’s good to know . . . "
Carefully raising his hand, Ranma reached forward to rest it on Ryoga’s right arm. It barely touched the material of the Lost boy’s shirt, but he started as if he had been burned. Turning swiftly, he batted Ranma’s hand away almost violently with a strange plea of, "Please, don’t touch me!" Then he was fumbling with the door, yanking it open.
Hand still raised, Ranma stared after him, feeling panicked, but not quite willing to act on it. The expression on his face was one of unguarded ache as he watched Ryoga stumble out of the restaurant, amazingly not destroying anything on his way. When the door shut behind him, Ranma closed his eyes tightly. Ryoga had been acting odd before, yes, but now it was worse. Why? What on earth had happened to the Lost Boy that would cause him to behave like this? Like he was frightened and out of control?
And why wasn’t Ranma doing anything about it? He looked down at his feet as if willing them to move, but they would not obey him. ({ Idiot! Go after him for kami’s sake! Something is obviously wrong! })
"Ranma!" Ukyo called from behind the counter, echoing his thoughts. "Go after him!"
"I . . . " Ranma breathed slowly. He wanted to chase Ryoga, he really did, but was that the right thing to do? Just stepping into the restaurant had upset Ryoga enough, obviously he was quickly losing the ability to bury this thing he couldn’t deal with. What if he inadvertently forced Ryoga into a meltdown? Was that what he needed, or would it just cause further damage?
"I’m not sure if I should, Ucchan," he finished, hating the words even as he said them. He -wanted- to help Ryoga! He wanted to hug the boy and make all the pain, all the fear and uncertainty go away. But what if doing that just hurt him more? Caused further damage?
"What?" she blinked, astonished. "What are you talking about? Obviously there is something seriously wrong here, and you’re his friend, aren’t you?" She grumbled to herself for a moment, and hopped over the grill. "I’ll go get him, if you won’t. He needs help."
Ranma turned to stop her. "I know he does," he assured her quickly. No, he couldn’t let her go after Ryoga. Somehow, he had been the cause of this mess and it was up to him to try and fix it. "I know. You’re right. Gomen, Ucchan."
To her extreme surprise, Ranma leaned down and planted a sweet kiss on her forehead. Then, without a word, the young martial artist sprang for the door, wrenching it open and dashing out into the street. She watched after him, startled and bewildered by the scene that had just played out in her restaurant, but even as she was trying to figure out exactly what happened, a sense of despair rose within her. She put her hand to her forehead to touch the last lingering warmth of Ranma’s lips.
That had been a goodbye, hadn’t it?
********************************
As Ranma expected, Ryoga had already disappeared by the time he made it to the street, but that didn’t matter. Grinding his teeth together, Ranma jumped for the nearest rooftop and broke into a run, scanning below him for any sign of the Lost Boy.
It was mid-afternoon before Ranma caught up with him.
Ryoga had finally found his way out of town, and from his vantage point on top of a four story building, Ranma spotted him as he wandered along one of the deep park trails that would lead up into the foothills. Crouching, Ranma rested his elbow on his knee and his chin against his fist and watched as Ryoga disappeared into the cover of the thick trees.
There was an unsettled ache deep in Ranma’s stomach.
He didn’t move for a long time, contemplating the direction in which Ryoga had gone, chewing on his lower lip thoughtfully. After a time, he raised his right hand, opening his palm and gazing at the faint scar there. Then, nodding to himself as if he had just come to some sort of decision, Ranma Saotome straightened, turned, and headed back toward the Tendo Dojo.
*********************************
"Oi Oyaji!" Ranma yelled as he skidded down the stairs and through the living room, a traveling pack slung over his right shoulder. He was dressed in a black sweatshirt, jeans, a warm down jacket and high topped hiking shoes; clothes far more practical than those he usually wore. Running through and hopping neatly over the table in the dining room, he almost collided with Kasumi, who was setting places in preparation for dinner. "Oops, kuso! Sorry Kasumi!" he yipped as he narrowly avoided upsetting her small stack of plates.
She smiled lightly, as benign as always. "That’s all right, Ranma-kun."
"Sumimasen," Ranma said absently, then turned to fix his attention on the two figures who were sitting cross-legged on the pouch off the dining room, both intent on their game of shogi. "Oyaji, yo! Pay attention!"
The giant panda looked up at him languidly with a small grunt. Soun Tendo, master of the house and dojo, took the opportunity to move his game piece, then leaned back and eyed the board with a look of vague smug satisfaction, smoothing his black moustache with the slender fingers of his right hand.
"I’m going on a short training journey," Ranma informed his father. The panda’s eyes widened. In the dining room, Kasumi paused as she set the plates in their proper places, and glanced at Ranma with a thoughtful shine in her soft brown eyes.
"Training journey?" Soun looked up with interest. "What prompted this?"
Ranma shrugged, his usual indifferent attitude firmly locked in place. "I’m getting rusty sitting around here all the time with a bunch of girls. Just thought I’d go hone my skills up in the foothills for a couple of days."
Soun sniffed importantly. "Admirable."
The over-sized lump of a panda held up a small sign, upon which were scrawled the words, \\ That’s the spirit, son! \\ Genma winked his beady eyes, obviously pleased.
"Yeah, whatever." Ranma waved at them in a dismissive manner and headed back through the house. He hoped to make it out without too much fuss, but unfortunately he encountered Akane in the front hall. She eyed him and folded her arms, blocking his way to the door, a study little powerhouse in a blue skirt.
"And just where are you going?" she asked, pursing her lips in a pout that showed plainly how irritated she was that he had not informed her of his plans.
"As far away from you as I can?" Ranma suggested, realizing privately that he was not entirely joking. It was amazing how quickly this girl changed her tune. Last night she’s been teasing and playful with him, now she was sullen and demanding. Was it any wonder he wasn’t interested in trying to keep up with her anymore? "Wanna get out of my way?"
Fury sprang into her dark eyes in response to his comment. "Tell me where you’re going," she ordered, her tone flat, a sure indication that she was attempting to control her temper.
Ranma sighed dramatically. He didn’t have time for this. "Not that it’s any of your business, Akane, but I’m going on a short training journey. All right? Now get out of the way. I wanna be out of town before it gets dark."
"Training journey?" Akane tipped her head to one side, anger evaporating as quickly as it had manifested. "Now? You’ll miss school. Are you trying to avoid that algebra test we have on Monday?" She smirked lightly.
Ranma rolled his eyes and walked around her, choosing to ignore her question. "I’ll see you in a few days."
She watched him until he reached the door, the expression on her face wavering uncertainly. As he was about to leave, she suddenly blurted out, "Ranma, let me go with you."
He paused and looked back at her, sure that she had to be joking. "As if."
"Come on," Akane stepped forward, clasping her hands in front of her in a demur manner that Ranma knew she had practiced diligently to perfect. "I know that I could use some refreshing, plus I . . . I could keep you company."
Ranma blinked several times. What was this? Akane actually wanted to spend time with him? Great, that was all he needed right now. Well, he knew how to nip that in the bud. He hrrmphed. "If I wanted an un-cute tomboy along, I would have asked you," he told her simply.
That oh-so-swift anger returned and she lit up as if someone had set her on fire. "Ran-MA! I was trying to be nice – "
"Hey, first time for everything."
" - - I can’t believe you! You are the rudest, most disrespectful person I have ever met! Where do you get off, being so mean all the time?!" She stomped her right foot to punctuate her words and almost appeared to be simmering, hands in fists at her sides, shoulders hunched, and a fierce expression on her round face.
"Ja na," he smirked, flipping her a wave and slipping out the door, slamming it behind him with pointed finality.
Kasumi came up behind Akane, carrying a large hinged picnic-type basket. She didn’t even seem to take note of her sister’s expression of extreme outrage or the low growling noise that was coming from her throat. "Oh dear," Kasumi blinked at the front door. "Akane, did Ranma-kun just leave?"
"Hai." Akane spat the word through her teeth.
"Perhaps I can still catch him," Kasumi mused and went to the door. By the time she had it open, Ranma was just rounding the corner of the property, heading out for the street. "Oi, Ranma!" Kasumi called.
He stopped and glanced back at her, a scowl on his face until he realized that she wasn’t Akane. His expression softened, and he trotted back to meet her. "What’s up, Kasumi?"
"I’m glad I caught you," she smiled warmly and offered him the basket.
He accepted it, surprised by how heavy it felt once he had it in his hands. "Oof. What’s this?"
"Just a little something for your journey. I didn’t want you to miss dinner."
"A -little- something?" he groaned. Ranma opened the top of the basket and peered in. The pleasant smell of food wafted out at him, and he realized immediately that all he’d eaten the entire day was a sandwich he’d hastily fixed himself before getting ready to leave. It was a good thing she had packed a lot, but even on his best days he wouldn’t be able to eat this much. Smirking, he was about to look up and thank her when he noticed several items laying neatly beneath the carefully wrapped food. In a moment his eyes had widened in surprise and puzzlement. He glanced up at her sharply. "Kasumi . . . "
"And I’m sure you’ll find a use for those," she said lightly, her dark eyes sparkling warmly. "Good luck."
Ranma stared after her as she returned to the house. Slowly, he closed the basket, biting his lower lip thoughtfully. Because she was usually so reserved and quiet, Ranma knew that most people, himself included, tended to underestimate Kasumi. In that moment, he realized what a mistake that was. Apparently, the eldest Tendo daughter was very much aware of what went on around her, and especially in her house. It was an error that he would remember never to make again. Smiling to himself, Ranma hefted the basket, turned, and headed out to the street once more.
In the window, Akane watched him until he was out of sight. Behind her, she could make out the faint sound of Kasumi’s cheerful humming as her older sister returned to the kitchen. Akane’s mouth slowly tightened into a heavy frown.