I Enjoy Being a Girl!

Part Five

Things were not going well.

This was Ranma’s first thought as she sat up amidst the rubble of what had formally been the kitchen table, gingerly rubbing the fresh bump on her head. The very large bump. Okay, maybe she had deserved that. After all, she knew perfectly well what Akane was trying to get at when she sputtered incoherently about last night . . . Ranma just chose to ignore that particular event and its implications, just as she had gladly taken to ignoring most of the unpleasantness of her so-called life. It was almost better this way. She didn’t particularly like hurting Akane, but as long as she stayed openly in the girl mind-set, then her long-harbored secret feelings for a certain wandering martial artist couldn’t be considered suspect.

And besides, it was kind of fun watching Ryoga struggle over being attracted to her. He always turned such interesting shades of red when he was flustered. And as long as he continued to think that she had amnesia, it wasn’t very likely that he would clobber her for her advances.

Akane could more than take care of the clobbering on her own. Ranma almost forgot that the youngest Tendo was still standing over her, and she groaned softly as she made an attempt to get back to her feet, pushing aside the splintered remains of the table as she did. Unfortunately, Akane was not about to let her presence go unnoticed. She loomed like impending disaster, fists on her hips, face screwed up in a rather vicious scowl, dark eyes flashing danger like railroad crossing signs.

"Well?" she demanded sharply, voice amplifying Ranma’s brand spanking new headache by about ten fold.

"Ita . . . " Ranma’s hand went to her head again and she sank back to the floor. Wobbling, the little red head squinted up at her assailant. Oi, Akane was not the least bit appealing when she was honked off, and she was seriously so right now. "Well, what?" Ranma answered vaguely, putting on the good show. Okay, the pounding headache was real enough, but the weakness and dizziness were not. Ranma had taken more than enough hits from Akane over the years to toughen her against them for the most part. For the most part. And she certainly wasn’t going to drop the charade now just because she’d been beaned by one insignificant kitchen table. She had a potentially good thing going here and was sure that she could salvage it.

"Are you going to stop pretending that you’re a girl, baka?" Akane growled, looking around in search of another heavy weapon just in case Ranma didn’t give her the answer that she wanted.

The pig tailed martial artist opened her mouth to reply, mind already churning through any number of sickeningly sweet phrases that would stew Akane off really good. However, she wasn’t given the chance, because at that moment there was a shriek of power wind, and both girls were hit by a front of anger so strong that the fires of Hell itself might have seemed like child’s play in comparison. Bracing themselves, Ranma and Akane brought their arms up to shield their faces, clothing and hair tossing in the gale. The banners which hung over the kitchen doorway curled away with burnt edges, and the jamb splintered inward on both sides as the object of Ranma’s shameful affections plowed into the room.

"Raaanmaaa!" Ryoga bellowed, racing forward in his classic one-arm-drawn-back-and-ready-to-strike pose. Disturbingly, the Lost Boy’s normally dark eyes were glowing with reserved ki, and he was obviously primed and ready to let lose with his most devastating attack. "Now you die!"

Oh crap. This -definitely- was not going well.

Ranma’s options went out the window. Judging by this show of absolute fury, - Kami! Ryoga was freakin’ ~gorgeous~ when he was mad! - the jig was obviously up and she was going to have to defend herself or end up smeared messily all over the kitchen floor. One small corner of her mind did take a brief moment to wonder how he could have possibly seen through her deception, but there certainly wasn’t time for an in-depth analysis of the situation right now. Still on the floor, she tensed, bringing her arms up in a crossed block, ready to throw a punch that would send the Lost Boy into LEO, especially since, as per usual, he was running full speed right into it without thinking out any sort of real strategy.

But, as it turned out, the punch never manifested because Ryoga didn't run into it. Much to Ranma’s extreme surprise, the rampaging boy stopped up short, gazing down at the rubbish that had been solid enough to seriously wallop Ranma only a few minutes previously. He took note of her position in the middle of the mess, and the force of his anger subsided almost instantly in favor of a well-placed facial expression of "Huh?"

Ranma silently cheered Ryoga’s sense of honor. The Lost Boy had never been the type to kick someone when they were down. And, she was quick to take advantage of the situation, in hopes of throwing him even further off guard and making him forget whatever it was he had been angry about. Scrambling shakily to her feet, she made her eyes as huge and teary as she possibly could and threw her arms around the bewildered young man’s neck, hiccuping with gentle and ladylike, but desperate tears.

"Ryoga-san!" she wailed delicately. "Thank heavens you’re here!"

Ryoga made a strangled ack!-ing noise and stumbled backwards a step or two, trying none-too-gently to dislodge her strangle hold on his neck. His anger returned swiftly, but it seemed far less intense than it had originally, as items in the room were no longer spontaneously combusting, but it was a force to be reckoned with nonetheless, and her after-the-fact attempt at theatrics were not going to put the Lost Boy off this time. He scraped her off and tossed her back to the floor.

"Get off of me, you pervert!" he snarled, those absolutely kawaii fangs of his showing as he spoke. Ranma sighed heavily and hurried to put aside the thoughts that instantly sprang into her head of what it would feel like if Ryoga were to use those fangs and those attractively curved lips to . . . ah! No . . . he was suppose to be a girl right now, curse it all. And as Ryoga was currently towering above her in much the same way that Akane had only moments ago, this wasn’t exactly the appropriate moment to be thinking such thoughts anyway.

She shifted quickly back into uber-feminine mode, clasping her hands at her chin and gazing up at him with pleading adoration. Her lower lip trembled. "But . . . Ryoga-san . . . "

"Knock it off, baka!" Ryoga nixed her act right in the bud, grinding his hand into a fist and shaking it tensely in Ranma’s direction. "I know that you’re faking it, and I should just kill you right here and now!" He curled that fist up and looked pained for a moment, prompting Ranma to briefly wonder why before those dark dark brown eyes opened again and he fixed a mountain leveling glare on the little red head. "But I’ll not pick on the weak. You have until this evening, Ranma. By then you should have properly recovered from this," he gestured tightly at the remains of the table. "I want you in the dojo, in your -real- form. This is a challenge."

Ranma erked, a little startled by the harsh seriousness of Ryoga’s tone. Sure the nomadic martial artist was always issuing one challenge or another, but Ranma rarely took them seriously because it seemed like they were always over stupid pointless things that only Ryoga cared about. Bread, Akane’s honor, insults to his pig form . . . But this, this was much more severe. Ryoga didn’t always break doorways or set things on fire when he entered a room. He was beyond furious this time, and Ranma realized suddenly that she was very lucky Ryoga’s sense of honor was so strongly developed, otherwise she would have been one seriously hurting unit by now.

Ranma blinked as the room became deathly quiet after Ryoga’s statement. She stared up at him, at the hurt expression that rode just beneath the fury in his eyes and she knew . . . she had pushed him too far. She had used her female form against him once too often, and shame rose up to burn at her face. This time she -hadn’t- been trying to trick or trap him. This time she had been hoping . . . but her plan had backfired, and in the worst way. If Ryoga hadn’t hated her before, he certainly did now.

"R . . . Ryoga . . . " she muttered, stunned. She was further shocked when she saw his emotions shift, leaning more towards hurt for a brief terrible moment, before he turned away and started to leave the room.

"Wait!" Ranma scrambled up, reaching after him with the intention of . . . of what? She didn’t know, she wasn’t sure. But she simply could not let him walk out of the kitchen feeling the way he felt, hurting and hating her because he thought she was teasing him, because he didn’t understand how Ranma truly felt, deep inside. She doubted that he would be any more receptive to the truth, but honesty was very important to the Lost Boy. If she told him now . . . if she revealed everything . . . he would undoubtedly still hate her, but at least he would understand.

However, Ranma had forgotten about Akane. The youngest of the Tendo clan had stood by, barely containing her own temper, watching as Ranma foolishly tried to keep up the act, only to rip Ryoga down further. The idiot! How could Ranma be so horribly cruel?! She had seethed righteously on Ryoga’s behalf until the Lost Boy issued his challenge, which startled her into the same silence that Ranma was forced into. She too could tell that this was far more serious than any challenge had ever been before, and her heart went out to the young bandanna-clad man as he turned to leave, a small eddy of hurt swirling in his wake.

But Ranma’s following plea pushed Akane right over the edge, because she saw . . . she saw . . . saw exactly what she had always hoped to see in Ranma’s eyes. Care. Concern. Pain. Love. But, maddeningly enough, these things were not directed toward her. It was not for her that Ranma reached out her hand beckoningly. It was not for her that the arrogant martial artist at last laid his emotions on out on a hypothetical table for all the world to plainly see.

It was for Ryoga.

Her original, horrible suspicions over Ranma’s motives returned to haunt her then. She had put them so far out of her mind, that it was a jolt when they slammed back in, racing around in her head, laughing mockingly. The act hadn’t been a tease, it hadn’t been a way to shame or humiliate Ryoga. It was far worse than that! Akane couldn’t even begin to summon up mental words ugly enough to describe her disgust, shock and fury. All she could do was react physically. She grabbed Kasumi’s favorite solid wood cutting board and swung it before Ranma had even taken her first step after the retreating Lost Boy. Swung it with all her might and anger. How dare he?! How dare he!?!

Ranma felt the board connect with the back of her head and down she went, sprawling out amongst the remains of the kitchen table once again. The blow was a complete surprise that seemed to come out of nowhere, as she had completely forgotten about Akane’s presence in her concern for Ryoga. Sharp painful spots danced in her wavering vision as, with a trembling groan, she attempted to pick herself up.

The shadow of Akane loomed over her once more, however, and she looked up to see the cutting board lifted high and tears standing in Akane’s glistening brown eyes. "You idiot!" the girl shrieked, pain in every syllable of every word. "You bastard! How could you do this to me?! How could you . . . after I told you . . . after I said . . . DAMN YOU!!"

Ranma threw up a hand to block and tensed as the board descended again, preparing for the pain that would soon shatter throughout her body. Used to taking Akane’s blows or not, this was seriously going to hurt like hell, but in some part of her mind, Ranma wondered if she didn’t deserve this. She -was- a pervert, after all, and she -had- been stringing Akane along for quite some time now . . .

The expected blow never arrived. Curious as to why the hell not, Ranma snuck an eye open and peeked around her upraised hand. She drew in a soft breath of surprise.

Ryoga was now holding the cutting board, and Akane was staring in befuddlement at her empty hands, startled by the speed with which the Lost Boy had disarmed her. She turned her eyes toward him in astonishment, mouth open in silent question.

"He’s already down," Ryoga explained quietly. "You don’t need to hit him again."

Ranma blinked. That was the closest thing to a slur against Akane that she had ever heard Ryoga utter. The dark haired girl looked taken aback as well, her first instinct to reel from the softly delivered words that seemed so sharp and poignant coming from Ryoga. Ryoga, who had never been anything except kind and considerate toward her. Her friend . . . an ally in her on-going war against Ranma . . .

Obviously, the balance of power had shifted. Akane’s anger quickly sprang back to the fore, darkening her face as holy rage built. She drew back her fist, furious that he would dare deprive her of her vengeance.

It was a terrible moment for both Ranma and Ryoga as the realization that she would think to lift a hand against the young man who had always been her friend struck them both at the same time. But the shock slammed into the wandering martial artist especially hard. Akane didn’t need to physically hit him. The threat caused just as much damage. Ranma saw the expression on Ryoga’s face crumble, and he dropped the cutting board, letting it clatter noisily to the floor. He stumbled all over his words, something close to terrified desolation in his large wide eyes. "A - a - akane-san . . . g - gomen na - na - na - . . . "

"What are you defending him for, Ryoga?!" Akane snapped, further breaking the young man apart as she quickly saw that her words were far more ruinous than her fist ever could have been. "Because one shouldn’t pick on the weak, is that it? Pah! Are you as much of an idiot as he is? Don’t you even understand what he was doing to you, you moron?!"

"Oh Kami . . . Akane, no . . . " Ranma breathed, plainly able to see how her hateful words shattered the Lost Boy as surely as if he were made of glass. Ryoga took several steps back, shaking as he did, a sort of glazed horror in his eyes as he absorbed the verbal assault and mentally toppled from the inside out. His absolute worst fear was coming true and the reality of it was far more horrible than any of his nightmares could have ever been. Akane was yelling at him . . . insulting him . . . the entirety of his existence was darkening around him, lurching toward a sickening end.

Akane, on the other hand, was rather fired by how satisfying this was. The problem with fighting Ranma was that the pig tailed martial artist was too strong and his hide was too tough. He fought back, though he rarely reacted to her assaults with anything more than annoyance and occasional anger. But Ryoga . . . she was ripping him to shreds right where he stood and he was doing nothing to retaliate, nothing to fight back. He was simply letting her do it, and all it took were a few well tossed words.

She put her hands on her hips, glared savagely at the devastated young man, and drove the final stake through his heart, eyes glittering with some strange sadistic pleasure, born of torturing a victim who would not fight back. "Well, baka?" she demanded sharply. "Are you just going to stand there stupidly, or what?"

Ryoga blanched, tears forming. Ranma could have sworn that she heard the poor thing’s heart break in two in the silence that heavily followed Akane’s final blow. Apparently suddenly unable to breathe, the Lost Boy drew in several sobbing breaths that sounded as if he were trying to tack further apology onto them. The words would not come, however. With the soft cry of a dog who’s master has just kicked it, Ryoga turned and fled from the room, pushing roughly past Nabiki and Kasumi, who were standing in the doorway, watching the spectacle with shock and surprise.

"Oh dear, Ryoga-kun, wait!" Kasumi called after the young man, disappearing from view as she followed him.

Nabiki stared at Akane. This was not the result she would have laid odds on, and watching her sister tear Ryoga apart had not been entertaining in the least. In fact, it had been like watching someone being skinned alive. Still . . . the middle Tendo daughter chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip as she mentally replayed the event in her mind. Still . . . she might be able to make some profit off of this regardless. Turning swiftly, she too hurried from the kitchen.

That left only Akane and Ranma. Hrrmph’ing indignantly to herself, Akane crossed her arms at her chest and silently reveled in the satisfaction that bringing Ryoga down had given her. Certainly some part of her was feeling guilty, but her anger toward Ranma was far greater and unfortunately Ryoga hadn’t had the sense enough not to get caught in the crossfire. It was all right, though, things would smooth themselves out later. She’d apologize to the Lost Boy, and he’d be glad enough to forgive her, because that was the type of guy he was. He was understanding and considerate, not like Ranma at all.

In fact . . . Akane then realized that she still hadn’t dealt properly with the pervert, and her anger swiftly returned as she remembered why she had been furious with him in the first place. Turning with the intention of finding another suitable weapon and continuing her assault, she was a bit startled to find that Ranma was now behind her, dripping with hot water from the sink, a vicious glare in his dark sapphire eyes.

"Hmph. About time you changed back," she said snidely, insult evident in every word. "Now maybe you’ll drop this perverted nonsense and things can get back to - - "

"Normal?" Ranma interrupted sharply, grinding his teeth with the effort of maintaining his control. He had always swore that he would never fight or hit a girl, but he was extremely close to the point of breaking that oath now, and Akane’s smirking face was a very tempting target. His hands curled into fists, but he managed to hold back and resorted instead to the same weapon she’d used on Ryoga.

"You bitch."

Akane’s eyes widened and she stared at him with indignant shock. "What?!" she snarled, voice lifting in pitch. "How dare you!?" Not constrained by the morals he placed on himself, she brought her hand up and prepared to strike him for such an affront, but he swiftly caught her wrist and prevented the blow.

She yanked her hand away from him, cradling her now-stinging wrist. "What was that for?" she demanded, referring to both the retaliation and the preceding insult.

"Man, Akane, how blind are you?" Ranma growled back, his expression cold. "Ryoga -loves- you, he’s always loved ~you~," the word was delivered with a bitter sort of emphasis. "An’ you stood here and tore him to pieces just b’cause you were mad at me. If you had any idea some o’ the things he’s done for you . . . what he’s sacrificed for you . . . k’so! You make me sick, Akane. You don’t deserve love from someone as wonderful as Ryoga."

She could only stare after him as he turned and stalked from the room, leaving an icy feel in the air behind him, startled and . . . yes . . . hurt by his words. It was true that he was often callous toward her, but never really deliberately so. It was simply the way he was. But this time . . . this time he had meant each syllable to gouge, to tear into her just as viciously as she had torn into Ryoga . . .

And then . . . then it finally occurred to Akane exactly what she had done . . .

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