I Enjoy Being a Girl!

Part Four

Now, it could be said that Ryoga Hibiki was not the brightest of fellows. There was the directional thing, and the fact that he no longer attended school (that stemmed, of course, from always being lost), and his apparent inability to see the obvious (citing his blindness in regards to Ranma-chan’s ‘disguises’ as a prime example). However, simply placing Ryoga into the "Dim" category was largely unmerited.

Ryoga was actually quite bright. And when it came to some things, such as surviving on his own in an unfriendly world, this young man was uncommonly brilliant. He was resourceful, confident, and occasionally inventive. And unbeknownst to everyone, including himself, Ryoga was a born strategist and would have been ridiculously good at chess or shogi if he knew how to play either game. Unfortunately, whether he was in the midst of a battle or just trying to figure out what was going on in Nerima on any particular day, these skills lay largely dormant for a variety of reasons, the most notable being that Ryoga possessed absolutely no attention span to speak of, and his patience levels were negligible at best.

This was due in part to maturity. Ryoga was still young and, being on his own all the time, he had never learned to master his patience. He still reacted to almost any situation as a child would, with a torrent of emotion that he lacked the skills to control. Such training would, luckily, come with age and Ryoga had already improved greatly just since being cursed at Jusenkyo. Turning into a small black pig tended to put the greater picture into better perspective, whether one liked it or not. Still, he had a long way to go as far as patience went, and with all the chaos that seemed to surround him on a regular basis, it was commendable that he had come as far as he had.

But, because of his lack of patience and his missing attention span, Ryoga still had problems with the obvious. So, it was actually quite remarkable that, as he sat with the extended Tendo-Saotome family on that bright and beautiful morning and partook of breakfast, he got the nagging sense that he should be seeing something that he wasn’t. And unfortunately, he found that he couldn’t really enjoy the delicious meal because most of his mental processes were busily engaged in trying to figure out what that something was.

By this time, Nabiki had finally emerged from her room, having been curiously absent up to this point. Kasumi also joined the family at the table, bringing with her some more hot tea and another tray of communal edibles. Akane, too, had appeared with her own offering - a platter of unidentifiable, definitely burnt and yet curiously frothy foodstuffs. Everyone politely took some, but no one was brave enough to actually eat any of it (or even ask her what they were suppose to be), but that was fine because there was more than enough palatable fare thanks to Kasumi and Ranma.

The little red head initially took a seat two down from Ryoga, placing Nabiki between them, as if maintaining polite and proper distance. Of course, that she leaned over the middle Tendo daughter hopefully every time Ryoga sampled some of her cooking quickly grew tiresome and Nabiki pointedly insisted that they switch places. This did not improve Ryoga’s concentration in the least, as Ranma now used her closer proximity to complete advantage, making sure that the Lost Boy had everything he could possibly need, serving him fresh food from the communal tray whenever he finished something, and refilling his tea cup the instant it was dry.

Ryoga squirmed and blushed uncomfortably throughout it all, and tried to stay leaned away from Ranma as much as he could, silently and continually repeating to himself that he was a guest and it wouldn’t do to inflict massive property damage on the home of these good people. He sent several waves of apologetic looks across the table to Akane, but she appeared to take no notice of them, being far too busy glowering hotly at Ranma and actually eating very little herself. For their part, the two family patriarchs remained dutifully blind to what was going on at the table, though Genma did find the time between mountainous mouthfuls of food to shoot some speculative eyes darts at Ryoga and Ranma-chan. Kasumi maintained her normal level of pleasant unconcern, chatting with Nabiki and Ranma about superfluous things like the weather, repairs to the hot water heater, and the rising cost of bean paste.

It was about halfway through the meal that Ryoga first got an inkling of what was amiss. He had finished off a portion of his food, and found himself watching as Ranma quickly leaned in to refill the empty spot on his tray. That she was putting her warm soft little body so close to him, close enough that she lightly brushed against his arm with every move that she made, almost prevented Ryoga from taking note of what she did, and in fact it actually took several minutes of calming his over-heated and panicked breathing before he was able to analyze the meaning behind her actions, but eventually he did get around to it.

He noticed that when she retrieved food for him, chopsticks moving deftly over everything the communal tray had to offer, she deliberately avoided anything that had pork in it. In fact, when he took a closer look at the trays she had served earlier, he saw that his was the only one completely devoid of any pork whatsoever. For example, Genma and Soun both had a large pile of steaming pork buns, whereas Ryoga’s similar pile turned out to be comprised of chicken.

Ryoga was grateful enough for that. After all, he turned into a pig himself and, having almost been eaten several times in the past, he could certainly relate to and sympathize with the plight of the porcine. Truthfully, since being thus cursed, he had refrained from eating any pork or pork by-products if he could at all avoid it, as it now seemed rather sickening and cannibalistic to him. Whether unwillingly or not, he had spent some time around pigs and as a result, he was now developing a rather begrudging respect for the animals.

So, at first, Ranma’s food selections didn’t bother him too much. Until he started thinking about it. Well, perhaps the word ‘thinking’ is a little too charitable. It might be more accurate to say that the notion rattled around in his brain like a chip on a Plinko board until it finally settled firmly into a slot marked: "Wait a minute . . . "

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"Eeesh . . . " Ranma grimaced to herself as she threw away the left-over contents of Akane’s platter of ‘food’. Rather than falling off the serving dish when she held it tipped upside down over the garbage can, the stuff sort of slimed off, dripping wetly with a nasty *plop plop* sound and leaving behind a greasy trail that sort of shone with the iridescence of spilt oil. The entire effect was very unappealing.

The true horror of it all was that Ranma was reasonably sure that the sick things she’d just banished to the realm of trash were originally suppose to be muffins. Or maybe biscuits. Quickly, she tossed the fouled platter into the sink and ran scalding water over it to kill any remaining evil.

Kasumi entered the kitchen with a large pile of trays and plates, set them on the counter, and left again just as quickly and efficiently to gather more. Ranma set herself to packaging up the left-overs and putting the dishes in to soak right away, wanting to get kitchen duty over with as soon as possible so that she could re-join the rest of the family. Or, more specifically, so she could re-join Ryoga. Smiling tightly to herself as she scraped the dishes, Ranma took careful note of which foods the Lost Boy had eaten the most of, so that she could serve him a more favorable selection the next time. It was with no small amount of satisfaction that she saw he had eaten a healthy share of her scrambled eggs.

Obviously, the parsley made all the difference.

While she was thus engaged in such contemplations, Akane stomped into the kitchen, carrying a few more dishes which she proceeded to slam down onto the counter before whirling on Ranma. As far as the dark haired girl was concerned, this nonsense had gone on long enough. Sitting through breakfast, watching as Ranma forced herself on poor Ryoga, had been sheer torture, especially when she was absolutely convinced that the pig tailed idiot was faking the entire thing, and she had been very hard pressed to uncharacteristically hold onto her temper. Why Ranma was keeping up this stupid charade was beyond her and it was vexing to no end, not only for Ryoga’s sake, but for her own as well.

Akane didn’t like to admit to that particular aspect of her annoyance, but last night she had as good as told Ranma that she . . . well, she had said some things that she normally wouldn’t have, and now it seemed as if her baka iinazuke was just blowing that all aside in favor of this little game he was playing. Didn’t he get it? Didn’t he even care about how upset she’d been? She’d practically begged him to be a boy again. For Kami’s sake, she had -cried- over the fact that he thought he was a girl! And yet, here he was, still pretending, and for no conceivable reason! Except maybe just to hurt her and pick on Ryoga.

"All right, you," Akane turned and glared at Ranma, crossing her arms tightly in front of herself, her most deadly and serious expression adhered firmly to her face. "This has gone on long enough."

"What has, Akane-chan?" the red head asked brightly, quirking a smile over her shoulder as she continued to deal with the remains of breakfast.

"This pretending that you still think you’re a girl," Akane replied tersely, voice low and dangerous. "Fawning all over Ryoga. It’s disgusting Ranma, it’s really sick. You’re just lucky that he’s too polite to launch you into low orbit, because if it was me, I sure wouldn’t put up with it."

Ranma seemed to find one or more parts of this comment funny, for she laughed lightly, eyes sparkling with fond amusement. "Oh Akane-chan," she giggled, turning toward the youngest Tendo and tilting her head slightly in an expression of unbearable cuteness. "I’ve already told you, I -am- a girl. And I’m glad I am! Especially now that I’ve met Ryoga-san. He’s just the type of man that every girl dreams of, isn’t he?" Her gaze became unfocused and dreamy, and she clasped her hands to her ample bosom as she spoke. Somehow that damned sunlight managed to shine through the window and hazily fall on her once more. "He’s handsome, strong, passionate, well-endowed . . . "

"RANMA!" Akane exclaimed, shrill voice barely penetrating the estrogen fog that had formed around the pig tailed martial artist. "Knock it off right now, you pervert! I don’t know why you’re doing this, and frankly I don’t want to know why. But I do want you to stop it! This game of yours is going beyond disgusting." Furious beyond belief, she grabbed Ranma by the shoulders and shook the smaller girl, barely keeping the reins on her temper. "Quit pretending! I -know- that you’re back to normal! I KNOW you are!"

Ranma allowed herself to be rattled, her slight body going a bit limp as Akane jangled it. But through the jostling, she gazed up at the other girl, eyes wide, questioning, and perhaps just a little frightened. "A - Akane . . . please . . . " she whimpered, bringing her hands up to her chin, looking the very picture of helpless and pathetic. "Please stop, you’re scaring me . . . "

That just served to anger Akane even more. She growled ferally in final exasperation, and abruptly shoved Ranma away. "Arrrgah! Baka!" she yelled, grabbing the kitchen table, hefting it over her head, preparing to smash it down on Ranma with all of her strength. If he wouldn’t drop the act willingly, then she’d damn well beat it out of him for once and for all!

The pig tailed girl’s eyes wobbled with trepidation, and she lifted her arms to protect her head, tensing small in anticipation of being clobbered. "Yeek! Akane-chan!" she squealed desperately. "Please! Why are you so angry with me?!"

"Why am I so angry?!" Akane repeated incredulously, table still poised high above her head. She fairly sputtered as she tried to get an answer out, dissolving quickly into furious frustration. "Last night I . . . I . . . last night . . . damn it, Ranma! How can you be so stupid?! Don’t you get it at all?!"

Ranma-chan peeked up at the outraged girl, staring with a blank sort of wondering expression as she took a precious moment to contemplate Akane’s words . . . the tone of her voice . . . the fury etched on her face. "You mean . . . " she ventured hesitantly, words forming around the concept her mind seemed to be trying to grasp. "You mean, you . . . ?"

Then, sunshine seemed to break into the room once more as understanding dawned, and Ranma straightened, dropping her protectively braced arms and smiling at Akane with soft twinkling understanding. She stepped forward, and wrapped warm arms around the other girl, pulling her close for a loving embrace, despite the threat of the table still looming over both their heads.

The youngest Tendo froze, mind instantly going blank from surprise. Akane soon found herself tingling all over from the feel of Ranma’s hug, from those slender but strong arms encircling her waist . . . a gesture more thoughtful and loving than she had ever known from him before. She caught the fresh shampoo smell of Ranma’s hair as the pig tailed girl leaned in and tucked her head under Akane’s chin. Could it be . . . ? Akane’s thoughts snapped suddenly out of the suspended state of shock they had frozen in and began to whirl crazily. Oh Kami-sama . . . did Ranma really get it?

"Akane . . . I didn’t realize . . . " Ranma squeezed her tight then took a step back so that she could look up into Akane’s eyes once more. Her voice was soft, low, and filled with what sounded like sudden empathic understanding. "I can’t believe how blind I was . . . "

Akane’s heart was beating hard, and she felt a little flushed. Not just from the strain of continuing to hold the kitchen table over her head, but also from the little surge of . . . hope? . . . that was now whispering warmly through her body. "Ranma . . . " she breathed.

"You like Ryoga-san too, don’t you?!" Ranma exclaimed suddenly with a blindingly bright smile, as if she had just revealed the most tightly guarded secret of the universe. She shook herself and wapped her forehead with the palm of her hand, laughing with self-admonishment. "And baka me! Last night I just waltzed right in and laid claim to him. I didn’t even stop to consider that he might already be taken. I’m sorry, Akane-chan, I just wasn’t thinking."

It was as if a fuse had been lit. Akane literally began to sparkle with fury, turning quite the over-pressurized red color and vibrating with the dangerous frequency of imminent detonation.

"I suppose it would only be fair if I stepped aside and let you have him," Ranma continued with serious consideration, apparently oblivious to the unstable nitro she was standing next to. She put a finger to her mouth as she contemplated that idea, then shook her head with a perky laugh. "Oh, but I like him far too much to give him up! And besides . . . " she turned back toward Akane, eyes arching upwards in fondness and good humor. "A little friendly competition is good for the soul, ne?"

Ranma barely had the time to see the table descending before everything exploded in a riot of painful stars, and an overwhelming *CRACK!* resounded through her head.

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Life, it seemed, was just one entertainment and/or profitable opportunity after another. And in this case, it was very likely to be both.

Thus contemplated Nabiki Tendo as she sat on the porch off the dining room, pretending to be engrossed in the most recent issue of _Japan Business Weekly_. Behind her, Kasumi remained engaged in cleaning up the last lingering remnants of breakfast, and as usual Soun and Genma were singularly wrapped up in their never-ending shogi tournament. These events were usual and mundane, and Nabiki barely gave them passing notice.

What had her attention this morning, was the scruffy-looking bandanna clad boy sitting beside the koi pond, arms and legs crossed and head down in a good imitation of a meditative pose. Nabiki knew that he wasn’t meditating however. Not only was Ryoga not normally given to that sort of quiet contemplation, but she could practically feel the waves of bewilderment coming off the boy. He was privately dealing with a conceptual struggle, and Nabiki was simply living in anticipation of the moment when he finally put two and two together and made five.

She knew that Ryoga wasn’t stupid, not by any means, as has already been established. But like any number of martial artists living in Nerima, it seemed that the obvious was a difficult concept for him to grasp, and Ryoga appeared to suffer from this ailment more than most. She was actually rather surprised that he had even noticed Ranma’s fatal mistake at breakfast, and surprise was not a state that visited Nabiki very often. It was, however, no shock that he was having difficulty deciphering the meaning behind Ranma’s blunder. That was fairly typical of the Lost Boy, but she had faith that all of Ryoga’s synapses would eventually get around to firing properly and the Big Picture would fall neatly into place for him.

Or, perhaps, not so neatly. This wasn’t a very tidy situation after all, and it seemed to be growing steadily messier by the minute, if her younger sister’s bellowing from the kitchen was any indication.

Nabiki silently rejoiced as there was almost an audible *click* and Ryoga’s head snapped up, dark eyes firing with understanding and the predictable anger.

Perfect timing.

"RaaaannnnnnmmmaaaAAAAAA!" His voice began as a low growl which evolved into a fever-pitched shriek of challenge. Startled birds took frantic flight and car alarms all over the neighborhood began to go off. He rose slowly, dramatically, like an avenging spirit awakening from the grave, hands clenching and unclenching stiffly, hateful red and black battle aura forming instantly around his entire body, crackling and hissing with burning fury. "Arrrrhhhh . . . curse you, RAAANMAAA!!"

Nabiki shied aside, lifting an unconcerned hand to protect herself from the scorching heat as Ryoga fairly flew past her, blowing through the dining room and toward the kitchen, leaving behind a scorched spot next to the koi pond. Kasumi issued her standard opinion of "Oh my!", while the two family patriarchs continued to sit as if nothing out of the ordinary were occurring, even though Soun’s long black hair was tossed and ruffled in the wake of Ryoga’s fury. Genma pursed his lips slightly and put down his next piece.

Nabiki got to her feet lazily, folding her magazine and tucking it under one arm. With an almost predatory smile, she leisurely followed Ryoga’s trail of destruction to the kitchen.

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