Ranma grumbled to himself in irritation as he pushed open the door leading into the darkened room and limped in, mentally complaining about the cast immobilizing his leg. The stupid thing was large and unwieldy, ornamented with metal pins that jutted out of his knee, obviously for the sole purpose of getting caught on doorways and furniture and causing him pain. At least he was able to walk on it, after a fashion, though he was slow going and it took him forever to get anywhere. He fervently looked forward to the day when he would be able to run and hop across rooftops again.

He didn’t bother to turn the lights on as he shut the door behind him, after wrangling to get his leg around it and juggling with the bundled bento he was carrying in his arms. He had hoped to not wake Ryoga right away, but after all of the noise he made simply getting into the room, he was surprised that the Lost Boy managed to remain asleep. Slipping a smirk across his lips, Ranma made sure the door was shut and twisted the lock he wasn’t suppose to touch into place so that the hospital staff wouldn’t disturb them. The evening nurses on Ryoga’s floor seemed to have a knack for walking in at the most inopportune moments. He’d been yelled at for locking them out on several previous occasions, but as always, Ranma was more than willing to risk the wrath of others to get what he wanted.

And what he wanted was currently tucked into the sill of the single window of the room, still asleep, with his forehead resting against the cooling glass. Ranma paused before attempting to cross the private hospital room, content to simply watch Ryoga for a long moment, his smirk fading into a quiet smile of fond love. The Lost Boy was darkly silhouetted against the dark blue of the evening sky, the lights of downtown Tokyo coming on one by one behind him. Ranma took a moment to admire the strong lines of the young man’s body and the curve of his face against the reflective glass of the window. As beautiful as he was, darkness did indeed suit Ryoga well. He seemed a part of it . . . at home . . . comfortable . . .

The nomadic martial artist had been dwelling in shadows a great deal since they had escaped from the Realm of the Shikome, through the Portal that Ikioi created with the released energies of her death. They had found themselves back on the ruined second floor of the Hibiki home, both exhausted, in pain and practically unconscious. Luckily, police investigators were on site at the time, still trying to decide exactly what had happened there, and the two boys were transported to the hospital immediately. The days that followed were a blur for Ranma, faces, medical treatments and a rather touchy operation to relieve the pressure in his skull from the severe concussion all melding into one painful memory.

Ryoga hadn’t faired much better. He’d suffered multiple internal injuries in the fall from Ikioi’s web, had required immediate surgery, and was still not completely back up to par. In addition, the tendons and muscles surrounding his dislocated shoulder had to be reconstructed. It took quite a long time to patch the Lost Boy back together, and his extreme fatigue and weakened state hadn’t helped matters any. He was still bandaged from various surgeries and his left arm was immobilized, much to his extreme chagrin. He felt about his shoulder contraption much the same as Ranma felt about the cast and pins on his leg, that it was an inconvenient hassle and a waste of time. In treating the pair of them, Ranma and Ryoga’s doctors had learned a great deal about the stubborn and uncooperative natures of martial artists.

Ryoga had good reason to be uncooperative. Whereas Akane, Mousse, and even Ranma had all been released as soon as they were deemed well enough - Ryoga had not. The chief reason for this was that the doctors treating him, as well as Ryoga’s father, were worried about his mental state. Though none of them were entirely certain if they wanted to believe the incredible story they’d been given, they all agreed that something traumatic had happened, and that Ryoga seemed to be the one most adversely affected. They had tried to detain Ranma longer as well, but he had been spared Ryoga’s fate by a rather unexpected benefactor - his mother. Nodoka Saotome, resistant to the idea that her son might be suffering from any sort of mental scarring, had gotten Ranma released as soon as his care givers deemed him fit enough to leave.

The Lost Boy had not been so lucky. Much of the concern stemmed from a single incident which occurred soon after he was able to get out of bed for the first time. Akane was the only one to witness the entire thing, as she had been visiting Ryoga from her own room just up the hall, while getting the hang of using the crutches she had been provided with. Hot and tired from the effort of moving around, Ryoga splashed his face with water from a wash basin, which had cooled while sitting out. Thus it was learned that Ikioi’s gifts had died with her, as Ryoga made his usual change to P-Chan.

Upset not only by the fact that he was once again cursed, but also that Akane had seen him change, Ryoga plunged into near hysterics. Up until that point he had been silently suppressing all of the conflicting painful emotions that were freshly at war within him, in favor of putting his attention solely toward recovering physically. Turning into P-Chan, in front of the very person he had conditioned himself to fear seeing such an event, released all of those pent-up feelings and the young man fell apart.

Despite her crushed ankle, Akane managed to catch the terrified and frantic piglet and held him tightly as she convinced him that everything was all right, that she knew about his curse and loved him anyway. Unfortunately, Ryoga was still caught in the throes of almost violent delirium by the time Ranma, mentally sensing that something was wrong, and Mousse arrived from their own rooms. Together, the three young martial artists did their best to soothe Ryoga, but he was firmly in the midst of a break-down.

Strangely enough, once they did succeed in calming him, he steadfastly refused to leave Akane’s arms, apparently finding some sort of sanctuary in hiding within his cursed form. Ukyo and Shampoo soon joined them, and the evening found the group of teenagers camped out in Ryoga’s barricaded room, sitting in a close circle, silently sharing their strength with the Lost Boy, and with each other.

The entire incident apparently bothered the hospital staff a great deal. Not only did it seem as if the young man was teetering on the edge of losing it completely, but quite simply it was not every day that they had patients changing into animals. The more understanding worried about whether or not making the change would adversely affect Ryoga’s injuries and generally tried to take it in stride. It was those who were not as sympathetic that were the most difficult to deal with.

The incident was brought to a rather abrupt and disturbing close by the ward clerk on duty at the time. After convincing the teenagers to let her into the room, and listening to Ranma’s explanation of the curse, she unfeelingly replied that this was not a veterinary clinic, and quickly retrieved some hot water, pouring it over Ryoga without hesitation or permission. His scream of utter frustration and anger was heard throughout the facility, and most of the ground he gained that day was immediately lost.

Those who knew Ryoga and how he dealt with things took his wild behavior in stride. Ranma and Akane especially understood the dark world Ryoga kept wrapped around himself like a protective blanket, and accepted it as just another facet of the young man they loved. Unfortunately, Ryuzen Hibiki was not as familiar with his son’s tenancies. The Lost Boy’s occasional lapses into severe violent depression or sudden crazed laughter frightened and worried his father a great deal. He had cut his business trip short after being contacted about his son’s injuries, and when he arrived at the hospital, he was dealt the double blow of Ryoga’s curse and his relationship with Ranma.

Not used to dealing with his son on an everyday basis, let alone in the midst of a crisis, Hibiki-san took the advice of Ryoga’s doctors and consulted with the hospital psychiatrist in regards to the boy’s mental well-being. Despite what Ranma, Akane and Ryoga himself tried to tell them, they gently suggested that the younger Hibiki be kept on at the facility for observation; and as soon as he was well enough, Ryoga was moved to a long-term care wing and prescribed medication that he steadfastly refused to take. The rather unfair situation drove a wedge between father and son that had never been present before, and the fact that Hibiki-san soon after returned to California to close his business deal did not help relations in the least.

Ranma could certainly empathize with Ryoga’s dark and bitter feelings. In the midst of all the medical treatment, operations and his concern for the Lost Boy, Ranma had also been forced to deal with his father’s anger and prejudice concerning his sexual orientation.

Whereas Nodoka weighed her son’s actions on Ryoga’s behalf against his homosexual tendencies and reluctantly decided that his strength, bravery and sense of moral justice canceled out the fact that he was in love with another boy, Genma refused to even entertain the notion. He ranted on endlessly every time he was allowed to visit Ranma in his hospital room, as if trying to drum his sermons into his son’s head through sheer volume. He also found some way to make it all out to be Ryoga’s fault, a point of contention that had resulted in a rather noisy altercation in the hospital lobby between himself and the normally mild-tempered Hibiki-san and saw both men banned from the facility for three days.

In a similar act of denial, Soun Tendo cast the Saotome clan from his home, even at the risk of incurring not only the wrath of his youngest daughter, but that of her older sisters as well. Though Kasumi and Nabiki both tended to give into their father’s wishes concerning most issues, this one simply was not negotiable. Nabiki quickly finalized contingency plans to attend college on the other side of Tokyo, and although Kasumi stayed on at her family estate, she made her displeasure firmly known by progressively distancing herself from her patriarch’s affairs and spending more time with friends away from home. Starting to live her own life gave her relationship with Tofu-sensei the jump-start that it had long needed, and she could often be found helping out around the good doctor’s clinic. This put the patients in mortal jeopardy at first, but as Tofu grew more accustomed to Kasumi’s gentle friendly presence, he calmed down a great deal and tying his clients into knots became a less frequent occurrence.

No longer welcome in his friend’s home, Genma moved back in with his wife, firmly taking his rightful place as head of the clan once again. And even though Nodoka was more accepting of Ranma’s relationship with Ryoga than her husband, she seemed inclined to conform to his wishes as a good wife should, apparently just pleased to have him home again at last. This left Ranma out in the cold, harboring his own share of bitterness, but he was taken in by Ukyo quickly enough, and generously given a spare room over her restaurant to call his own. Disgusted by her father’s narrow-mindedness, Akane stayed with them more often than not.

And though upset by the unrest in both families, Ranma found that he actually preferred present conditions over what he’d had previously. He was no longer under constant pressure to act manly or marry Akane, and the ongoing problem of Shampoo had disappeared almost overnight as she now rallied around Mousse, encouraging the myopic boy in her own unique ways to work and train hard so that he would one day be able to defeat Ranma. Mousse’s recovery, as well as Akane’s, was progressing smoothly, and so far any nerve damage caused by the spiders’ toxins was negligible.

The only thing wrong with the entire affair was Ryoga’s absence.

In the many long months that had blurringly passed since they returned from Ikioi’s Realm, the two boys had found very little time to explore their relationship, beyond the simple declaration to all involved parties that one did indeed exist. Their moments alone were infrequent, especially since they were both on long roads to recovery and were at first almost constantly surrounded by either family or medical personnel. Since Ranma’s release from the hospital, he had made it a point to come and visit Ryoga whenever he could, but some of the staff in the long-term care wing were highly disapproving of any time that the two boys spent alone.

This was due in large part to one psychiatrist’s opinion that Ranma was to blame for a majority of Ryoga’s behavioral problems, citing the Lost Boy’s extreme depression which always seemed to surface after Ranma’s visits. In addition, some of Ryoga’s care-givers simply were not comfortable with the boys’ relationship. In the weeks following his release, the pig tailed martial artist quickly figured out the rotating schedules of the staff and planned his visits to coincide with shifts worked by nurses who were more supportive and accepting of his love for the wandering young man.

That was another problem - Ryoga’s wandering. Once he was up and mobile, those in charge of his care quickly discovered how difficult it was to keep track of him, and on frequent occasions he was narrowly prevented from inadvertently walking out of the hospital. Twice since his move to long-term care he had actually succeeded in escaping from the wing, which was usually well supervised, and ultimately the facility itself. The first time, he was picked up by a police officer not far from the hospital and no harm was done. The second time, however, Ryoga found his way across Tokyo and had almost made it to Nerima before he was discovered and returned.

Those two escapes in particular had his doctors wondering just how much of Ryoga’s directional disorientation was genuine, and how much was acting on the part of the Lost Boy. Ryoga was extremely unforthcoming with answers to their repeated questions and seemed oblivious to chastisements or long-distance threats from his father. Unfortunately, as a result of such incidents, an extra careful eye was kept on Ryoga Hibiki, which made it that much more difficult for Ranma to be alone with him.

On the rare occasions when they were together, their time was spent in heavy silence, often in each other’s arms. Neither had actually given much voice to their relationship beyond a few terms of affection which were delivered almost jokingly by Ranma, and shyly from Ryoga; and there had been kisses exchanged when they were free from prying eyes, but both felt that actual conversation needed to be avoided, for fear that discussion might mean ruin. Nor did they want to waste their time with words. For the most part they took their strength from simply being close, letting their auras and energies mingle in an unspoken gesture of trust and balance.

It felt at once right and wrong. There was comfort in being together, and yet there was a sense of fear in their prolonged silence. Sometimes, whether alone or with others, Ranma would catch Ryoga simply staring at him, his deep brown eyes filled with something that was close to wonder and disbelief, as if he couldn’t be certain of the reality in front of him. Ranma thought he understood . . . Ryoga had been either alone or possessed for his entire life, it was difficult for him to accept that someone truly loved him without stipulation, without ulterior motive. The pig tailed martial artist therefore did his best to not exert any pressure in their relationship, to let Ryoga play navigator and lead them where he would.

But as usual, Ryoga tended to get lost along the way. It was during those times that he most wanted Ranma’s arms around him.

There were difficult adjustments for Ranma to make as well. He was used to taking what he wanted, to fighting or charming his way to an ultimate goal. But those tactics were no longer acceptable. Ranma found himself on unsteady ground, and he didn’t particularly like it. He worried over the perceived meanings behind Ryoga’s silences, stressed himself to the breaking point whenever it was reported that the nomadic young man had indulged in a screaming or crying fit, and found himself uneasy if Akane was able to prompt a smile from Ryoga when he himself couldn’t. That the Lost Boy had refused to leave her arms when he first transformed into P-Chan bothered Ranma a great deal, but even though he had privately shed a few tears over the incident later, he really did understand. Ryoga had trained himself to seek comfort from Akane when he was in his cursed form, and he had simply acted on that ingrained instinct.

Ranma understood, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Having wasted precious time in thoughts of recent events, Ranma sighed to himself and set the bento on the bedside table. He moved as quietly as he could to Ryoga’s side, taking note of the last colors of day sinking beneath the artificial horizon. The city lights were reflecting gently along the side of the Lost Boy’s face as he slept, breath coming lightly between his slightly parted lips. He was wearing jeans and a black t-shirt from which he’d already torn the sleeves; clothes that his father had bought before returning to California since most of Ryoga’s clothing and possessions had been destroyed along with the top floor of the Hibiki house. Ryoga complained that he didn’t like jeans because they were too tight and restricting, but Ranma thought he looked great in them. The denim material nicely showed off the long lines of his legs and accentuated his slender hips and rear quite attractively.

Ranma loved to gaze at Ryoga when the other young man was asleep and quiet. There was often a still calm expression on his face that was never there when Ryoga was awake, and to see it was almost a treasure in itself. But even more than watching him sleep, Ranma adored watching him wake up, because it would forever remind him of that final moment in Ikioi’s Realm when Ryoga’s chi returned to his body and he opened his eyes.

Sitting opposite from his love in the window sill, after wrangling his leg around to a relatively comfortable position, Ranma leaned forward slightly and patted Ryoga’s arm. The nomad’s hands were in his lap, wrapped lightly around the cell phone that Hibiki-san had left. Apparently, Ryoga had spoken to his father this evening.

Ryoga muttered something unintelligible under his breath and turned his face tighter against the window, his body tensing into a stretch. Ranma waited a moment then patted him again, this time a little harder. Ryoga had always been a heavy sleeper, but the medication, that the staff had to forcibly make him take more often than not, made him even less responsive. Ranma didn’t like to see that, and he knew Ryoga detested the fuzzy feeling as well.

"Go ‘way . . . " the Lost Boy grumbled darkly, shifting his position a little more. The cell phone fell from his lap and clattered against the floor, and the noise seemed to startle him. He jerked his head away from the window and blinked his eyes open, looking first around his small room, then finally settling his gaze on Ranma. Recognition lit in his dark eyes and a smile drifted sleepily over his lips as he settled back against the window. "Ranma."

"Hey," Ranma grinned, nudging him a bit with his knee. "Been sleeping all day?"

"No. Spent most of the day working my legs on the physical therapy weight machines, then I . . . uh . . . got lost on my way back. They found me in radiology and then I had to sit through another stern talking to from Masanaga-sensei. He still thinks I’m faking the directional problem." Ryoga paused for a moment, glancing out at the city. "Baka."

Ranma certainly agreed with that sentiment, but then he didn’t care for any of Ryoga’s doctors. None of them seemed very approving of the boys’ relationship, and Dr. Masanaga in particular had a very low opinion Ryoga’s mental health. The fact that the Lost Boy had bit him during one of his fits of angry frustration probably hadn’t helped that opinion. Though he innocently claimed that it was an accident, Ryoga’s eyes had definitely twinkled mischievously when he described the incident to Ranma afterward.

Ranma thought it extremely amusing, but unfortunately it was behavior like that which was keeping Ryoga in the hospital under psychiatric supervision.

Ryoga looked at him again, and although he couldn’t quite see it in the shadow of the room, Ranma got the idea that the Lost Boy was gazing at him hopefully. "I . . . I don’t get a hug tonight, Ran-kun?" he asked softly, hesitantly.

"Gomen," Ranma gave him a smile in return and edged closer. Both boys had gotten used to working around their medical impediments and fell easily into a close sheltering hug, Ryoga’s right hand wrapping around the back of Ranma’s neck, Ranma’s arms sliding around Ryoga’s waist. They held the embrace for a long moment, and Ranma could almost feel the Lost Boy’s stress from the day melting away as they allowed their auras to mingle together until they were more one than otherwise. There was something more there, however, something beyond Ryoga’s normal tensions, and Ranma could feel it as their kis balanced out between them like water seeking its own level.

Sharing their energies in such a way was something they now did almost automatically, both finding it appealing because it was a silent affirmation of their relationship that was invisible to others. They no longer needed to kiss to transfer their ki, though neither was adverse to that method, but over the months their ki-systems had evolved to the point where they could balance each other with just a touch, a simple brushing of skin against skin . . . it was a sharing that made them both feel better . . . stronger . . . more able to cope with whatever the day wanted to toss at them.

But it also served as a frosted glass window to their emotions, and Ranma could feel a new sense of heaviness within Ryoga tonight. Heaviness . . . hesitation . . . the need to be held . . . He made no comment on it, however, knowing that the Lost Boy would broach whatever was bothering him when he felt ready to. Ranma was willing to wait, even though patience was very much against his nature. But among the many things he had learned from this whole experience was the price that sometimes had to be paid to haste.

When Ryoga finally pulled back, he brushed a shy kiss over Ranma’s lips, his fingers playing in the fine short hair where the other boy’s pig tail had once been.

"I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this," he commented, tugging a few strands gently between his fingers.

"Yeah, I know," Ranma agreed in disgust, reaching up to run a hand over the short stiff hair that was growing back after his head had been shaved for his surgery. He’d nearly thrown a fit himself upon waking up enough to realize what had been done. He understood why it was necessary, but he still didn’t like it. Sometimes when he looked at himself in a mirror, he thought an entirely different Ranma was looking back at him. It was a displeasure that he kept quiet, however. With everything that had happened, he didn’t want others to think he was obsessing over something as trivial as his hair. And maybe he -was- a different Ranma now. "It sucks, but at least it’s growing back in pretty fast. It looks terrible on my girl-form."

Ryoga made a face. In one of the rare conversations of depth they had managed to engage in, joined by Akane and Ukyo, Ranma discovered that the Lost Boy had actually developed a severe aversion to his girl-form. That was a bit of a surprise, but considering how many times he had used his curse to fool or manipulate Ryoga, it was understandable. Both of the girls expressed their own individual interests in Ranma’s female side - Akane had liked her from the start, had secretly thought she was cute, but had never said as much for the sake of appearances which were no longer an issue; whereas Ukyo found the cursed form to be a source of amusement, but wasn’t necessarily attracted to her.

Ranma leaned back in the window sill, tightening his hold on Ryoga waist and pulling the other young man down with him so that Ryoga ended up with his head resting against Ranma’s chest. He felt the Lost Boy stiffen a bit, which was a normal reaction, but it seemed to take him much longer to relax this evening than it usually did, and Ranma mentally went on alert. He fought back the urge to probe for what was wrong, reminding himself that he had to give Ryoga the time and space that he needed, but deep within he was squirming uncomfortably. Kami, how he hated this unsteady ground . . . not knowing how things stood from one moment to the next . . . worrying about what might be going through Ryoga’s mind.

But he was even more reluctant to face everything squarely. All he could do was try to keep things on an even keel until Ryoga was able to settle into the idea of being loved for himself. No pushing, no pulling . . . though sometimes he feared that maybe he was swinging too far in the other extreme and not doing enough . . . that maybe Ryoga was expecting a little guidance and was confused by its absence. Ranma sighed inwardly. This was all too delicate and confusing!

"Ucchan sent you some food," he said lightly, not letting the tone of his voice betray any of his internal discomfort. "An’ she told me to tell you that Kuro-ko is doing fine. The regulars at the restaurant love her and she’s really thriving on the attention."

Ranma felt Ryoga’s brief smile against his chest, but the expression faded quickly. Hospital regulations forbade animals in the facility and he knew that the Lost Boy sorely missed his little beanbag shaped puppy, but mentioning Kuro-ko always brought Shirokuro and the other dogs to mind and released a severe guilt that Ryoga had not yet been able to temper. Ranma quickly moved the conversation onto other things, more mundane things. Kuno’s latest attempt to "smite the foul sorcerer Saotome." The arguments Nabiki tried to use on Akane and Ukyo to get them to pose for pictures. Ranma’s own frustrations over trying to catch up on his studies after having missed so much school. Ryoga listened intently, apparently interested in anything that was going on in the world outside his hospital room window, but with a detached distance that Ranma found disturbing.

Ryoga’s aura said that he wanted to be held, but his mannerisms indicated otherwise . . .

After he had run out of things to talk about, Ranma hesitated for a moment, then decided to offer a gentle prompt. "Anything going on here?" he asked, hoping that he sounded like he was just making conversation. He lifted his hand and combed his fingers lightly through Ryoga’s dark hair, admittedly a bit envious but enjoying the silky feel nonetheless. During his stay at the hospital, the Lost Boy’s already unruly tresses had gotten even wilder and longer. And since he wasn’t allowed his customary bandannas - the staff had quickly figured out that they could be used as weapons during one of Ryoga’s more violent refusals to take his medication - his hair was always loose almost to the point of being unmanageable. So far, none of the nurses had dared to suggest cutting it.

Ryoga recognized Ranma’s question as a request for information. After a moment’s hesitation, he straightened himself, pulling away from Ranma and resuming his original position on the sill. (( How do I start? Do I have the courage to do this?)) he asked himself, his dark eyes catching the shine of the city lights as he gazed out at the night. He would have crossed his arms in front of himself if that movement hadn’t been prevented by the shoulder brace. Still, Ranma got the idea that Ryoga was retreating, even without the gesture.

He sighed. "Ryoga . . . "

"I talked to Otosan this afternoon," the Lost Boy offered quietly.

Ranma glanced briefly in the direction of the cell phone which still lay on the floor. "I kinda thought so," he nodded with a frown. "Didn’t go well, huh?"

"No, actually. It went surprisingly well. We had a very long discussion about a number of things. Seems Masanaga-sensei called him to complain about my behavior again, and Otosan finally got the idea that I’m not doing very well here." Ryoga snorted softly. "Now there’s an understatement if I ever heard one."

"No kidding," Ranma smiled ruefully.

"So, we talked about that. We talked about what happened. We talked about you and me." At this, Ryoga shifted his gaze to Ranma, as if to gauge his reaction. Ranma blinked, a little startled, but nodded.

"And?"

"And . . . I think it went pretty good. Even though . . . even though I wasn’t sure exactly what to tell him about us. I’m . . . I really don’t know what to think about it myself, Ranma." He looked down and away, his voice softening. "I’m confused about what I feel, and it scares me sometimes," he admitted quietly. "Scares me when I feel safe in your arms. Scares me when you go away. Scares me when I think that I can’t last another hour if I don’t see you again . . . "

Ranma drew in a soft breath, a little surprised by the intensity of the words. "I know you’re scared," he replied quietly. Was this what he had been waiting for? Were they actually going to talk about this? A part of him fervently hoped so, eager to put an end to the uncertainty; but another part just wanted Ryoga to shut up, to stop analyzing, to let things go on as they had been. The few private moments they’d spent together had felt so good, and Ranma didn’t want that to end, didn’t want those feelings to go away. He feared that if Ryoga took the time to think about what was happening . . . he might reject it.

"I fall in love too easily, Ranma," Ryoga continued. "I always have. If anyone even throws a small scrap of affection in my direction, I’m ready to pounce on it." (( Like I did with Ikioi . . . I loved her . . . in the beginning, I really loved her . . . )) There was a bit of self-loathing in his voice, and his right hand slipped across his body so that he could grasp at his immobilized left forearm with his fingernails. Seeing this, Ranma shivered inwardly.

This was a new habit that quite simply frightened and mystified Ranma. Often when he was uncertain or upset, the Lost Boy would pull his nails down the flesh of his arm, and if his anxiety was particularly prolonged it wasn’t unusual for him to break the skin and draw blood. Sometimes it seemed as if he wasn’t even aware that he was doing it, and Ranma hated the dark expression that settled into Ryoga’s eyes whenever he engaged in the harmful activity. Every time he made his visits and found that one of the nurses had put fresh bandages on Ryoga’s arm, Ranma wanted to die inside.

Dr. Masanaga adamantly discouraged the habit; but after one of his regular visits to check up on the Lost Boy, Tofu-sensei explained the behavior to Ranma so that he would have a better understanding of what Ryoga was doing and how to deal with it. Those with a tendency to self-injure, he said, were simply dealing with stress in a way that gave them power over feelings or a situation in which they might have very little control. It wasn’t a suicide attempt, or a plea for attention, it was a way for the person to externalize internal emotions and ground themselves.

Tofu told Ranma that many mental health professionals, such as Masanaga, were still very misguided about why some people sought to hurt themselves, which was why they often preached against the behavior, but that could often be far more damaging for the patient in the long run. He encouraged Ranma to gently point out what Ryoga was doing whenever he started, but not to tell the Lost Boy to stop. Any outlet was better for the young man than none at all.

When Ranma thought about what Tofu said later, he realized that Ryoga had been displaying self-injuring tenancies for as long as he had known him. It wasn’t unusual for the Lost Boy to slam his head against something hard or hit walls until his knuckles were bloody whenever he was upset or felt inadequate. Still, understanding the behavior didn’t really make Ranma any more comfortable with it. Every time he witnessed Ryoga clawing slowly at his arm, Ranma found himself grappling with his own feelings of guilt and shame.

"Ryo-kun . . . " he said quietly, leaning forward to rest his hand on the Lost Boy’s. Ryoga blinked and looked down at his arm, at the reddening scratches he had already inflicted, and flinched, drawing his hand away.

"Gomen nasai . . . " (( Damn it . . . ))

"S’okay," Ranma assured, fighting down the urge to shake the habit out of the young man. "And you ain’t got nothing to be ashamed about, you know. Everybody wants to be loved."

"I know," Ryoga answered quietly, curling his hand into a fist. "But . . . but I’m afraid Ranma. I’m afraid because . . . because I don’t know why I feel the way I do. This love is . . . it’s so strong . . . desperate. But is it really how I feel, or is it just that you’ve tossed me some affection and I’m grabbing for it like I always do? Like I did with Akane. Like I did with Ikioi." He paused for a moment, drawing in a shaky breath. "I . . . I’d do anything just to keep you close, and that’s exactly how I felt with both of them. I don’t want to fall into that trap again, Ranma."

Trap? Ranma winced, feeling stung, even though he knew Ryoga hadn’t meant the words to hurt. Still, the thought was painful. Ikioi’s love had been a trap, and Ranma hated being compared to her, despite the fact that he recognized the similarities between them himself. They had both claimed Ryoga as their own, they had both held tightly to him and deliberately hurt him as a means to their own end. But . . . in the months since everything happened . . . Ranma had been doing his very best not to fall back into that familiar pattern . . . He didn’t want to use or possess Ryoga. He just wanted to love him . . . and he wanted Ryoga to return that love.

He could easily see and understand the Lost Boy’s concern, however. It would be disarmingly simple for Ryoga to fall back into the old pattern as well, and perhaps he worried that his feelings for Ranma were representative of that . . . of grasping desperately after affection, or loving out of gratitude. After everything that had happened, it was understandable that he be wary of being possessed again, of being used or hurt. Still, Ranma didn’t like the feel of the direction of this conversation . . . he could sense further confusion and hesitation in Ryoga’s subdued aura, and knew that a larger bombshell was about to fall.

"I don’t know what to tell you, Ryo-kun," Ranma muttered after holding heavy deliberations with himself on how to address the Lost Boy’s fears. "I guess . . . I guess you hafta decide for yourself how you feel."

Ryoga’s dark eyes came up and shimmered softly in the low light. "How do -you- feel?" he asked quietly.

Ranma blinked, a bit taken aback. It wasn’t often that he was asked for his opinion on things, though he was almost always more than ready to give it, solicited or not. Surprised by the abruptness of the question, he immediately said the first thing that came to his mind, giving it little in the way of thought or analysis.

"I love you, Ryoga."

It wasn’t any sort of great revelation, after all, they both recognized the feelings between them. But the words seemed to dangle in the air, tauntingly, as if daring either of them to do something about it. Ranma was startled by his abrupt statement, but knew he meant it, and it was probably the only truthful answer he could have given without further confusing or laying claim to Ryoga. It was how he felt. As simple as that.

Ryoga looked away again, lips pressed tightly together, to rest his temple against the glass of the window once again. (( I can’t . . . I can’t do this . . . but I have to, I have to know . . . )) He stared out at the city for a long moment, and Ranma caught the shine of a tear in his eye. He didn’t understand it, really, and their mingling auras gave him no clue as to what Ryoga was feeling beyond continued confusion and uneasiness. Instinctively sensing that this might be one of those times the Lost Boy needed to be embraced, Ranma leaned forward and firmly pulled Ryoga back into his arms. The nomad didn’t offer any protest and was grateful to have someone to lean on.

"Ryoga . . . what’s wrong?" Ranma asked quietly, once again sinking his fingers into the other young man’s wild thick hair.

Ryoga sighed heavily. (( Now or never . . . )) "Otosan closed a major deal with some software manufacturer in the States," he began slowly. "His company is in the process of establishing an office in California, and he’s taking charge of it. Buying a new house in Santa Monica and everything. He . . . " Ryoga paused for a moment. "He wants me to come stay with him . . . "

Ranma stiffened and he tightened his hold on Ryoga. (( No . . . ))

"What did you tell him?" he asked, distantly relieved that he managed to keep his voice steady. After everything, all the misunderstandings and arguments, after Hibiki-san had essentially had his son committed . . . Ryoga wouldn’t actually consider . . . ? (( No . . . ))

Ryoga shifted uncomfortably in Ranma’s arms. "Ranma . . . I know this has been a bad time for everyone, and that he and I didn’t part on the best of terms, but . . . I love my father. I really do. And I miss him, I’ve hardly seen him since Okasan died and we don’t know each other at all, that’s why he had me locked up in this damn jail, because he doesn’t understand me anymore. This is a chance for us to finally try to be a family . . . "

"You told him yes," Ranma said simply, a haze of unhappiness and numb disbelief filling him from the inside out. He pushed Ryoga up, so that he could look the young man squarely in the eyes, hands gripping his upper arms firmly. "Didn’t you?"

Ryoga looked pained. "Ranma . . . " (( Please understand . . . ))

The two boys stared at each other for a long time, as if each were waiting for the other to say something. Oh, how Ranma wanted to! He wanted to curse loudly, shake Ryoga and demand that the Lost Boy stay with him. To go through everything that he had . . . to face death and hell, only to lose Ryoga anyway when all was said and done? No, it couldn’t end like that, it just couldn’t!

But . . . but he had no right to ask Ryoga to stay, to lay claim to him once again, anymore than he’d had the right to chose whether or not his chi lived. Ryoga had made that choice, and this life was his to live. And . . . and the Lost Boy -did- deserve the chance to work things out with his father, the chance to have as normal a life as possible. As much as it hurt, as much as he hated the thought of being without the Ryoga again . . . Ranma had no right to hold onto him . . .

It was a difficult and painful conclusion to come to. His grip on Ryoga loosened a bit, and he swallowed hard, doing his very best to roust himself out of emptiness and maintain the cool disinterested exterior that he was so well known for. "It’s . . . it’s okay, Ryoga. Really. That’s cool," he said carelessly, forcing a smile onto his face. "I’m glad you got a chance to patch things up with your Pop. When are you leaving?"

The Lost Boy stared at him for a moment longer, contemplating. A brief flicker of hurt washed through his eyes, but it was suppressed quickly, and Ranma had to wonder if he had seen it at all. "Before the week is out," he muttered, averting his gaze once again. "Masanaga-sensei is going to make sure I get to the airport and on the right plane. I think he’ll be glad to be rid of me."

"Not surprising," Ranma smirked, leaning back and tucking his hands behind his neck. Oh Kami-sama, this hurt! "You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?" The words were delivered in a fond teasing tone that sounded plastic.

"You should talk," Ryoga retorted blandly, returning Ranma’s smirk with a small sad one of his own. The forced lightheartedness did not last, however. A rather uncomfortable silence fell between them for a brief moment, before Ranma deliberately broke into it, getting to his feet as quickly as he could without tripping himself up with his cast.

"Right. Look, Ryo-kun, I gotta get going," he began. (( It’s over . . . it’s over . . . nothing more to say, really . . . )) "Akane’s coming over to Ucchan’s tonight, we’re all having dinner together."

Ryoga looked up at him. "You are?" he asked softly.

"Yeah. So I need to go, cuz it takes me forever to get anywhere with this damn thing on my leg." He maneuvered himself in the direction of the door, taking care not to look back at Ryoga for fear that the Lost Boy would see the hot tears forming in his eyes. He couldn’t show that kind of weakness . . . that sort of failing . . . "I’ll call you in the morning, okay? Find out what time you’re gonna be leaving so that we can see you off."

Ryoga didn’t say anything. He watched Ranma cross the room and turn the lock on the door, feeling the coldness that had replaced the young martial artist’s withdrawn aura. There was a palatable sense of expectancy in the room, as if the Fates were waiting for him to stop Ranma’s departure; but if that was the case, they were disappointed, because the Lost Boy made no move to detain the other boy.

Perhaps Ranma was expecting it too, for he felt a certain keening sense of disappointment and hurt well up within as he got the door open and stepped through. He wanted to bolt, run like the wind itself until he was so far away that the pain would never be able to catch up with him. But he couldn’t do that. Nor could he bring himself to simply leave without one final word. Pausing in the open doorway, he glanced sideways over his shoulder and gripped the knob of the door with a fearsome strength. His dark blue eyes glistened softly in the low light.

"I . . . I -do- love you, Ryo-kun," he said.

Ryoga stared silently at the door as it closed behind Ranma’s exit. Several minutes ticked away without notice as he sat alone in the darkness, eyes shining from the tears that fell unchecked. Slowly, the Lost Boy reached up, lifting his right hand from his left forearm; and swiped at his eyes, flicking the salty moisture away into the shadows. He gasped out a plaintive sob.

"I know, Ranma . . . "

Then he smiled . . . a beautiful genuine smile that had never found a home on his face before . . . a smile that those who cared for him would have been delighted to see. But it was not for other eyes. It was solely for himself at this moment. This moment . . . this moment when the lonely young man named Ryoga Hibiki realized that at last . . . at last . . . someone loved him . . .

. . . and loved him enough to let him go . . .

******************************************

"Nani?" Ukyo froze, spatula held poised in her hand, staring at Ranma in shock and disbelief. Beside her, also behind the grill, Akane glanced up briefly, a contemplative glimmer in her dark eyes that reflected the sizzling cooking surface in front of her. She pursed her lips slightly, then returned thoughtful attention to the bowl of batter she was diligently mixing.

The lighting in the restaurant was subdued and close, as the establishment was now closed for the evening. The banners and sign had been brought in and the doors shut up tight, so that the three teenagers could have their dinner in privacy. They had fallen into the habit of doing this often of late, of gathering together to share companionship and the events of their days, growing comfortable with each other as they had never been before. Normally Ranma looked forward to spending time with the two girls, especially now that he no longer viewed them as burdens or obligations. But tonight . . . tonight his heart simply was not in it. The air was warm from the heat of the grill, and on any other night Ranma welcomed the secure enveloping sensation . . . but right now he was feeling very cold and alone inside, and no amount of comfort from without was going to change that.

"You heard me," he muttered, resting his chin in his hand to idly watch what Akane was doing. His other hand was absently engaged in petting the top of Kuro-Ko’s little head, as she sat primly in his lap, also keeping a close eye on what the dark haired girl was doing. In the absence of her master, the little pup had apparently adopted Ranma as a substitute, for if he was around, she was never far from his side. The young martial artist was beginning to understand why Ryoga loved his canine companions so much . . . there was definite comfort in feeling Kuro-Ko’s unconditional love.

"Hai, but I don’t believe it," Ukyo responded, an expression of distress crossing her finely featured face. "Ryoga-honey is leaving? Just like that? And he didn’t ask you to go with him?"

"Why should he?" Ranma shifted on his stool a bit, sending a distracted mental curse toward the hampering cast on his leg. He was inwardly surprised, as he realized that the thought of going with Ryoga had never occurred to him. Of course, if it had been an option, surely Ryoga would have suggested it. "It’s his life."

"But . . . but you two have been so close these last months, and after everything you went through . . . I mean, you risked your life and went all the way to another dimension to rescue him, Ran-chan."

Ranma sighed softly, looking down at the puppy. (( Rescuing someone don’t automatically make them love you . . . )) he reflected sadly to himself, but didn’t voice the thought for fear of tarnishing his indifferent image, even though both girls could see right through that. And it wasn’t the point anyway. He knew damn well that Ryoga did love him, but the Lost Boy was scared of that feeling, fearful that it might be the same submissive love he had fallen into before. Ryoga didn’t want to be trapped again, so he was retreating . . . running. Ranma understood. He really did. But it still hurt so bad . . .

Kuro-Ko licked his hand with a soft whine.

"I just don’t get it," Ukyo finished sadly, gesturing helplessly with her spatula.

"Ucchan," Akane piped up quietly and related almost exactly what Ranma was thinking. "Ryoga’s scared, and he’s doing just what he’s always done when faced with something he can’t physically fight - he’s running." She sent a soft smile in Ranma’s direction, tipping her head slightly in a gentle expression of understanding. "He’ll come back when he’s ready, just give him some time, ne Ranma?"

Ranma gazed at her for a moment, a bit surprised not only by her calmness and sympathy in the face of Ryoga’s departure, but also by her insight. Then, she had been surprising him a great deal lately, from the openness of her blossoming relationship with Ukyo, to the loving big-sister mannerisms she adopted when dealing with Ryoga. Though her temper was still as sharp as ever, she had proven herself less likely to relieve her frustrations on others and more willing to hear things out before resorting to violence. She had changed . . . grown up. Ranma slowly realized . . . they all had.

"Hai." He nodded, mustering up a sad smile for her. He briefly wondered exactly what aspect of the entire ordeal had been the moment of truth for her, as Ryoga’s sacrifice of his ki had been Ranma’s, but he refrained from asking. That was personal.

Akane’s smile widened and she reached for one of the bottled ingredients waiting on the counter beside her, intent on adding it to her batter mixture. Ranma blanched when he saw what it was.

"Oi, Ucchan," Ranma drawled idly. "It’s pretty brave of you to try an’ teach Akane to cook and all, but . . . I think yer pumping a dry well here."

The girls stared at him, Akane stopping with the bottle poised over the bowl, already beginning to simmer with familiar anger. Ukyo looked startled, then saw the disaster that was about to happen. She reached out and quickly grabbed Akane’s wrist before the contents of the bottle were poured into the mix. "Matei, Akane-chan. What’s that?"

Akane blinked in surprise, first at Ukyo, then at the bottle. "Soy sauce?"

Ranma coughed a bit, strangling down a sound that fell somewhere between surprised disbelief and derisive laughter.

"No, Sugar," Ukyo smiled fondly, shooting a look at Ranma, as she removed the bottle from Akane’s hand and turned it so that the other girl could see the label. "This is tabasco. Kami only knows why, but some of my regulars like it on their okonomiyaki. However, we -don’t- put it into the batter."

"Thank you," Ranma breathed a sigh of relief.

Akane shot him a glare, but Ukyo drew her attention back before violence could ensue. "Akane-chan," she said patiently, squeezing the youngest Tendo’s hand, her eyes sparkling with humor. "You’re doing great, just remember - don’t add anything unless you show it to me first, ne?"

There was still a glitter of anger in Akane’s brown eyes, but remarkably enough, it faded under the influence of Ukyo’s smile. Ranma was quite simply amazed. If he had tried something like that, she would have launched him into low orbit, but for Ukyo - Akane calmed down and sighed heavily, looking rather embarrassed and contrite. She took the bottle from the okonomiyaki chef and set it aside, specifically in an area of the counter that she had reserved for ingredients that -shouldn’t- be added to batter, then went back to hunting for the soy sauce. "Sorry, Ucchan," she said lowly. "I don’t know if I’m ever going to get the hang of this."

"And that surprises you?" Ranma muttered.

"Raaanma!" Akane glared at him savagely. He looked up quickly, and was surprised to feel a small surge of guilty pleasure whisper through him as he tensed, his body anticipating a good round of action and teasing. Over the months, he and Akane had been remarkably careful with each other, while wounds healed and relationships formed or fell apart. As could happen with any siblings, adversity had brought them together and they learned how to show support without resorting to teasing or baiting. At that moment, however, looking down the barrel of Akane’s anger, Ranma realized how much he missed their squabbling. To revive it felt good . . . familiar . . . comforting.

And right now he needed comfort.

He slapped an infuriatingly cocky smirk on his face. "What?"

"Are you implying that there’s something wrong with my cooking?!" the short haired girl demanded, reaching over the grill in a flash and grabbing him by the front of the shirt. She hauled him forward easily, even though she hadn’t yet recovered her full strength, close enough that he could see the sparkle in her brown eyes. Apparently, she had missed their banter as much as he had.

"Well, yeah," he responded carelessly. "I mean, let’s face it, Akane. Yer the only person I know who can actually burn water . . . "

"Why you - - " Akane hauled off, ready to punch a Ranma-shaped hole through the roof, and Ranma tensed himself to dodge the blow, a small smile escaping across his lips. Ukyo moved forward, unsure of whether to save Ranma or stop Akane from causing property damage, but the playful altercation was interrupted by the unexpected sound of a car door being slammed shut outside.

The three froze and looked toward the noise, in time to catch the moving shine of headlights through the shuttered windows as a vehicle of some sort pulled away from the building. Akane let go of Ranma, who landed back onto his stool abruptly. Cars weren’t very common in Nerima, the streets being generally too narrow and busy to accommodate them, so the sound of the retreating engine was unusual enough to make them take notice. But they were all a little startled to hear a quiet rapping on the front door a few seconds later.

Kuro-Ko, who had somehow managed to stay in Ranma’s lap, sat up and yipped. She sounded pleased and her little tail wagged rapidly. Ranma put an absent hand on her head to calm her, but she hardly seemed to take notice.

"Who do you suppose - ?" Akane tipped her head slightly.

"Aw, tell ‘em to get lost, Ucchan," Ranma groaned as Ukyo hopped easily over the grill and headed for the door. He wasn’t interested in dealing with anyone outside of the two people already present. "You’re closed."

She shushed him and slid the door open, the words, "I’m sorry, but we’re closed," already prepared and on her lips. But she stopped in mid-sentence when she saw who the visitor was, and her dusty blue eyes widened in surprise.

"Ryoga-honey!"

Akane and Ranma both looked up in start and saw that, indeed, the Lost Boy was standing in the doorway, a nervous expression on his face. His dark eyes found Ranma’s almost immediately, and the other young man felt his heart beat increase exponentially at the plain glimmer of gentle love and affection reflected within those dark depths, beneath the hard shining layer born of medication.

A surge of something hopeful went through Ranma’s body, leaving behind the staticy feel of quiet electric excitement. What . . . what was Ryoga doing here? There was no mistaking those soft emotions, he could feel them in the touch of the Lost Boy’s aura, even from across the room. But, the existance of feelings did not necessarily make a situation right, this was another thing that Ranma had learned. He did his very best to not make assumptions, but he did wonder. Could it be . . . did Ryoga’s presence mean what Ranma hoped it meant?

"Ryoga-kun?" Akane smiled warmly.

"H - hi," Ryoga lifted his right hand slightly for a light wave in her direction, then shifted his gaze back to Ukyo. He was looking a little unkept, long hair curling gently around the nape of his neck, a tear in the sleeve of the denim jacket he was wearing over the shoulder brace and t-shirt Ranma had seen him in earlier, smudges of dust on his jeans. Despite his appearance, however, he bowed properly to the owner of the establishment and offered her a wrapped package which he pulled from somewhere within the jacket.

"Sumimasen, I don’t mean to interrupt," he said, his voice softening as he straightened out of the bow. "I guess . . . I guess I was feeling a little left out . . ."

The other three teenagers each winced inwardly. Ranma felt especially pained. (( K’so! He’s been alone in that damn hospital all this time, while the rest o’ us were getting on with our lives . . . I never even thought about that. ))

"Get in here," Ukyo took the package, then fondly grabbed him by the jacket and hauled him through the door, closing it firmly behind him. Limping heavily on her own walking cast, Akane came around the grill and welcomed Ryoga with a loving hug, and Kuro-Ko worked herself into a little frenzy of happiness, jumping from Ranma’s lap and skittering across the floor to greet her master. Akane picked her up and put her into Ryoga’s free arm so that he could hold her, and he immediately rubbed his face in her fur, eyes falling closed briefly, a gentle sad smile on his face. Ranma felt a soft ache in his heart as he watched.

(( Damn it all, Ryoga. You are so beautiful. Even when you’re hurting, you’re beautiful . . . ))

"Kuro-Ko," Ryoga whispered so softly that it almost couldn’t be heard, nuzzling the little dog. " Gomen . . . suki da . . . " The puppy wiggled and squirmed around until she could plant happy kisses on his face, offering forgiveness for his imagined transgressions.

"Oniikun, you escaped from the hospital again, didn’t you?" Akane frowned, picking her finger in the tear on his jacket. Most of his wardrobe was practically new. She had to wonder at his ability to scuff things up so quickly.

Ranma hid a smile behind his hand as Ryoga lifted his head, flushed lightly with the embarrassment of being caught. "No, I accidently wandered out," he insisted with a rather shifty twinkle in his dark eyes. "Its not my fault that they don’t keep the freight elevator locked . . . better."

"Shame on you," Ukyo nudged him teasingly as she passed, returning to her customary position behind the grill so that she could open the package that he had brought.

"How did you get here?" Akane tipped her head slightly in puzzlement, laying her hand on Ryoga’s arm. "No offense, Ryoga-kun, but I can’t believe that you found your way from Tokyo in just a couple of hours."

"You’re right. It took me most of two hours just to get out of the hospital and then find a shop that was open," he nodded his head toward the package. "I didn’t want to show up empty-handed."

Ukyo gave him a warm smile, dusty blue eyes sparkling with fondness. "Now, you should know better than that, Sugar. You’re family, not a guest." She unwrapped the ties on the package and pulled it open. "Yakisoba! Perfect Ryoga, I was running low. Arigato! I’ll set some water boiling for these right now."

"Do itashimashite," Ryoga looked pleased, blushing lightly.

"Oh! And I’ll start the okonomiyaki!" Akane beamed, giving Ryoga’s cheek a quick kiss before hobbling around to join Ukyo behind the grill once again. The Lost Boy took a moment to kick his shoes off beside the door, then stepped in further, stopping beside Ranma. His eyes were glowing softly with an unaccustomed pleasure, as he was obviously pleased to have been made welcome into the group. Gaze falling on Ranma, a faint smile twitched at his lips.

Ranma let loose a smirk of his own and patted his cast. "Forgive me if I don’t get up," he groused lightly.

"Lazy," Ryoga returned, taking the empty stool beside him. "Some martial artist you are. Hmmph. I wouldn’t let something like that hold -me- back."

Ranma opened his mouth to issue the usual scathing reply, before remembering himself and realizing what was going on here. Just as Ranma had done with Akane earlier, Ryoga was attempting to establish some normalcy by engaging in their usual bickering banter. Everything had been so serious lately, it was no wonder that they were now all reaching out for something lighter and more familiar. Again, it felt so good to hear the mild challenge in Ryoga’s voice, to know that he was alive again. With only those few words, Ranma suddenly felt as if everything would be all right, no matter what happened.

"As if," he snorted in reply.

"Now, play nice you two. Don’t make me hurt you," Akane admonished as she poured some of the batter in her bowl out onto the hot grill under Ukyo’s diligent supervision. Ryoga blinked, obviously a bit surprised to see Akane doing the cooking, then turned his attention back to Ranma, meeting the other young man’s eyes.

Ranma’s expression was an obvious question, a silent enquiry for explanation, which Ryoga replied to by lightly placing his hand on Ranma’s leg and smiling in faint reassurance.

Though both girls noticed the exchange, neither called attention to it. They shared a knowing smile and put their attention back into making dinner, the soft drone of Ukyo’s instruction being the only sound in the restaurant for several long moments while the two boys gazed at each other and shared their silent communion.

They balanced immediately with the touch. Ranma’s anxiety and his sadness over the Lost Boy’s impending departure halved itself and slipped across to Ryoga, and in return he received what felt like a curious mix of apology, nervousness and soft joy. They silently shared their ki, energies commingling and lending strength wherever it might be needed. The ache in Ranma’s leg . . . the dull throb of Ryoga’s shoulder . . . a myriad of other pains and minor problems . .. whisked away for the time being. Ranma saw the chemical glaze in Ryoga’s eyes soften, witnessed everything that was really the Lost Boy rise to the surface, and presented the young man with a strong firm mental hug of welcoming.

"So, how didja find your way from Tokyo?" Ranma’s teasing tone interrupted the companionable quiet once they both felt centered, complete and ready to continue.

Ryoga removed his hand from Ranma’s leg, but remained leaning close. "Taxi," he replied simply. "It took the driver awhile to figure out where Ucchan’s was, but not as long as it would have taken me. All I could tell him was that it was someplace in Nerima and that there’s a mailbox on the nearest corner."

Ukyo laughed. "Ryoga-honey. Don’t you know the address here?"

Ryoga chuckled softly, slipping his hand up to the back of his neck in embarrassment as he turned a bit pink. "I’m . . . not very good with addresses, Ukyo."

"Now -there’s- an understatement." Ranma grinned widely.

"Quiet, you." Ryoga grumbled and took a swipe at him, which Ranma easily ducked. He retaliated with a punch, feeling his fist just barely swish through the soft tendrils of Ryoga’s hair as the Lost Boy dodged.

"What did I say about playing nice?" Akane broke up it up with the type of tone a mother might use before separating a pair of unruly children. She was busily scraping at the grill, trying to dislodge her first okonomiyaki which was on the verge of being badly burnt. As soon as it was free, she slipped it onto a plate in front of the two boys and gave them a bright hopeful smile. "There! First one’s ready. Dig in!"

They eyed the misshaped slightly blackened disk dubiously. Grimacing lightly, Ranma poked at the still-runny center with a chopstick. As they hesitated, Akane’s smile began to fade bit by bit, to be replaced by a slow simmering disappointment and anger. Glancing up, Ryoga noticed this and immediately broke off a piece to try, obviously not wanting to upset her. "Itadakimasu," he said and popped the bit into his mouth bravely.

Ranma watched him intently for any adverse signs, as Ryoga chewed carefully, looking thoughtful, then swallowed his mouthful down. Ukyo surreptitiously placed a cup of tea beside him, but he didn’t seem to require it. A soft twinkle in his eyes, he graced Akane with a fond smile.

"It’s good, Akane-san."

She beamed happily. "You really think so, Oniikun?"

"Well, of course -he- would say it’s good," Ranma grumbled, jerking his thumb toward Ryoga. "He never could tell you the truth about yer cookn’. If it killed him instantly, he’d still say it was good."

Akane’s delighted expression dropped into a pout that was halfway between hurt and fury. She turned away, crossing her arms and tipping her head up in a clear see-what-I-care gesture. "Fine, Ranma. You don’t have to eat any."

Ryoga slid the plate a little closer to Ranma, narrowing his eyes. "Try it."

Ranma drew back as if it were a snake about to strike. "What you wanna do? Kill me?"

"Maybe. Try it." Ryoga’s tone was deadly serious, and Ranma could see by his expression and feel by his aura that the Lost Boy wasn’t playing around. He shot a glance from the plate to Akane, and realized with a sudden pang that he was being thoughtless again. He had sat right there and watched as she worked hard to do everything right, he knew the effort she had put toward this, and all she was asking was that he give it a try.

(( Man, I am such an idiot sometimes . . . )) He used his chopsticks to twist off a bit of the alleged okonomiyaki and inwardly cringed as he dropped the chunk into his mouth. Much to his surprise, he didn’t gag, didn’t choke, didn’t immediately require a glass of water. In fact, there was actually very little in the way of taste to his mouthful aside for a slightly burnt smokiness. He swallowed and waited for stomach cramps or nausea, but neither came.

"Hey, Akane!" he exclaimed, shocked and pleased for her sake. "It’s actually edible."

She relaxed and turned back, looking hopefully guarded. "You like it, Ranma?"

"Don’t get cocky. It’s edible," he repeated and twisted off another piece. Ryoga did the same and offered the bit to Kuro-Ko who devoured it happily, not caring if it was burnt in the least.

"Well, good!" Akane clasped her hands together happily and laughed lightly as she looked at Ukyo. "Edible was exactly what I was going for!" She blissfully ignored the boys’ twin expressions of disbelief.

"That’s right, Sugar. We’ll work on adding flavor next time." Ukyo chuckled, reaching out to squeeze Akane’s hand. "Before you know it, we’ll be the best okonomiyaki team in Japan!"

Ranma had to laugh, playfully flicking a bit of okonomiyaki at Akane, which she deftly deflected with a spatula "Team? Setting your expectations a little high, doncha think? I mean, anyone can get lucky once - - "

He was abruptly cut off as Ryoga wapped him on the back of the head, nearly driving him against the counter. Rubbing in his shortened hair ruefully, Ranma quickly straightened and leveled a glare at the Lost Boy, who was feeding Kuro-Ko again as if nothing had happened. "What’d you do that for?!" he demanded.

"I’ll not sit here and listen to you insult Akane-san’s cooking," Ryoga replied tightly, then looked up, meeting Ranma’s glare. There was a hidden twinkle within his dark brown eyes, a glint that had challenge written all over it. Ranma stared for a moment and then grinned wickedly, his own eyes narrowing.

"Yeah? Well, bring it on, P-Chan," he got to his feet, using his good leg to kick the stool out of the way, and dropping slightly into a defensive crouch, hands lifted at the ready. "I’ll whomp the snot outta ya, even with this stupid cast on my leg."

Ryoga calmly set Kuro-Ko on the counter and stood himself, carefully peeling off his jacket and draping it over his own stool. "Don’t think I’ll go easy on you because of that either, Ranma." He tensed on his feet, obviously intending to primarily utilize his legs since his left arm was immobilized. He struck first, aiming a basic roundhouse kick at Ranma which was easily blocked, and then the sparring began in earnest.

Akane leaned on the counter, chin in her hand. "Honestly . . . " she muttered. "Can’t those two ever let up? They’re both practically in traction, and they think they have to fight?" Inwardly, she smiled to herself. It was good to see things returning to what passed for normal. Even if Ryoga was leaving . . . Akane knew it wouldn’t be an ending. Somehow, they would work things out.

Ukyo winced as Ryoga kicked Ranma against a piece of statuary that promptly broke. Neither boy seemed to take the least notice of the damage their fight was causing in the close confines of the restaurant, intent as they were in giving their bodies the work that they both needed. With a resigned sigh, the young chef mentally kept a running tab and joined Akane at the counter to watch, standing close to the smaller girl with her arm draped loosely around the other’s waist

.

********************************************

Ryoga loved the stars.

He couldn’t see them from his hospital room, as the sky was far too obscured by the bright lights of downtown Tokyo, and he had missed them. Before everything happened, he would often lay out on his sleeping bag in whatever wilderness he ended up in for the night, silently watching the stars come out one by one. It was his quiet time, the few moments of the day that he could take for himself without thoughts of others or his own inadequacies invading his mind. It was a time for centering before sleep came to plague him with vague nightmares of rejection and loneliness.

That small peace had been taken from him . . . by his father, by the doctors. Keeping him trapped in that hospital, they had robbed him of his only outlets. His exercise options were limited, so he could not lose himself in the movements and dance of martial arts, could not take pride in the sanctity of his physical form or the power that had once stayed barely contained within his muscles. When he was depressed or upset, he could not run away, could not escape from what was hurting him. He couldn’t take solace in the woods, breathe in the cool and calming air . . . or even look at the stars . . .

Granted, the stars weren’t as bright in Nerima as they were in the wilderness either, but Ryoga was content with what he had. This was the first chance he’d been given to see them since . . . since everything, and Ukyo hadn’t even questioned his request to spend a few minutes alone on her roof. A gentle expression on his face, he gazed skyward from the cool tile surface, legs stretched out and crossed, right hand gently brushing along the surface of his left arm. He was tired from sparring with Ranma, and his shoulder -was- hurting. Perhaps he should have taken things a little easier, but Ryoga had never been one to heed the warnings of his own body, especially not when the physical work felt so good.

Especially not when he was able to share that pleasure with a kindred spirit and for a moment forget the shame that tarnished his heart. (( I hurt him. I shouldn’t have done that, but I had to know. )) A soft sigh escaped Ryoga’s lips as a docile evening breeze whispered over the length of his body and ruffled his unruly hair. He was grateful for the night, for the breeze, for the stars . . . for life . . .

He should have died in Ikioi’s Realm, Ryoga knew that. Knew it with every fiber of his being. When his chi was released from the prison of Ikioi’s chest, he should have crossed over almost immediately. The way had been open and inviting - a bright shimmering door which broke through the darkness that descended with the young Shikome’s impending death and beckoned him to step through and see what lay beyond. Urged him to come in and become wonderfully lost. It would have been an end to the pain, an end to the uncertainty. Even now that mysterious beyond sang within his bones, reminding him of what he had turned his back on. What he had given up for the sake of one person.

Ranma.

Ryoga had not heeded the call of death because of Ranma. Because he could feel Ranma’s hands around his chi, holding him protectively . . . longingly . . . possessively . . . and he could feel the young man’s despair beating within the chamber like a vibration in a huge drum, hard and overwhelming. There was a great deal that Ryoga couldn’t remember about that entire week of belonging to Ikioi . . . indeed about his life in general . . . bits and pieces escaped his grasp whenever he tried to look at them, to fall away into the depths of his unconscious. But he remembered that moment starkly, intimately knew the feeling of Ranma holding onto his very soul with the intention of claiming it for himself under the pretense of keeping Ryoga alive.

It had been chilling to realize that he was about to be bound to another, but as long as he was in Ranma’s hands he was unable to move toward the light of death. He wasn’t even entirely sure that he wanted to, Ranma’s pain was so strong and filled with need. There had been resignation on Ryoga’s part, certainly, but . . . if that was what Ranma wanted . . . then so be it. Lost Boy was grateful to be loved so strongly, even as he wanted to cringe and hide like an abused dog.

Ryoga was surprised when Ranma gave up his control, so surprised that he didn’t know how to react. It was like being hit by lightning, like being shot through the head to realize that Ranma not only loved him . . . but loved him enough to give him up if it was necessary. Love . . . love was something that Ryoga often felt himself, but he knew that others did not feel it for him, not in the way he had always hoped. He was a pet or a possession, he had never before been set free to make his own decision. It was almost incomprehensible for him to come to grips with the idea . . . the idea that when Ranma said he cared . . . he really meant it. Really meant it in the way it was suppose to be meant . . . not in the way that Ryoga had come to expect.

And that was part of the reason that Ryoga turned his back on death - Ranma’s love. Not because he necessarily returned it . . . that came later . . . but because Ranma’s feelings were so strong, so powerful, that he was reluctant to break free from them. Still, knowing the pain that was to come from returning to his body, Ryoga had hesitated, confused and unsure of what direction he should take.

Then, Ranma provided direction.

It was when Ranma’s thoughts turned toward his own death, that Ryoga made his final decision . . . the Lost Boy simply could not allow that to happen. He did not want Ranma to die for him. He wasn’t worth that. It was for Ranma’s own life that Ryoga turned down death’s invitation. Ranma . . . who gave up his possession, but continued to show Ryoga the way . . .

Upon waking up and finding himself encased in that trembling embrace, staring up into those dark sapphire eyes . . . that was when Ryoga had first felt love in return . . .

An uncertain overwhelming love . . . but love nonetheless . . .

(( And now, he’s willing to let me go again . . . even though it hurts him, he’s letting me go . . . letting me make my own decisions and take my own path . . . )) Ryoga shut his eyes tightly, a bit of fear squeezing out from beneath his closed lids. (( But whenever I try to find the way myself, I get lost . . . as much as I don’t want to be possessed . . . I’m not ready to strike out on my own . . . I need . . . I need to be guided . . . ))

He silently suppressed a shiver which traveled through his body as the breeze washed over him. It seemed to carry a whisper and a touch . . . the half-remembered phantom of a girl he had fallen in love with and given his soul to . . . a part of her that had been left behind and stayed with him . . . a part of her that was very far away, but calling out to him. Ryoga shut his eyes for a long moment, willing her to stay quiet, to remain in his fragmented memories where he wouldn’t have to deal with her. It was not her guidance that he wanted, though she always seemed to be close at hand and ready to give it.

She came close to his ear on the breeze and breathed a soft warning, telling him that it was far from over . . . Somewhere, in a deep aquamarine sea which Ryoga didn’t really remember . . . she was still waiting . . . waiting and watching as that small spark of golden energy buried deep within her grew . . . grew and stepped forward to meet him in his dreams, gazing at him with his own dark eyes . . .

"Yo, Ryoga."

The named young man jumped awake and opened his eyes. (( Nani? I didn’t realize that I had fallen asleep. )) He tipped his head backwards slightly, looking upside down at Ranma, who stood above him, a curious expression on his face. The light wind rustled at his dark school coat and black pants, causing them to make soft sounds of fabric moving over fabric. He was carrying Ryoga’s denim jacket in his hand.

"You shouldn’t be up here with your leg," Ryoga said, rolling over and pushing himself to sit up. He quickly wiped at the moisture still on his cheeks.

"An’ you shouldn’t be up here with your shoulder, but here we are." Ranma quirked a smirk, an expression that Ryoga was particularly fond of for the ease with which it seemed to appear. After much wrangling to get his leg positioned properly so that he could sit beside the Lost Boy, Ranma thrust the jacket at him. "Akane’s worried that you’re gonna get cold up here. Make her happy and put this on."

"Akane-san’s worried?" Ryoga asked, laying the jacket over his legs. The idea that people cared about him was still a foreign one. He didn’t deserve their love, felt uncomfortable with it . . . the strange unsettling feeling that his rightful place was waiting for him in a Realm far beyond this one was always present in the back of his mind, humming softly. He hadn’t told anyone about that, however. His father and the doctors already thought he was crazy, if they knew he was hearing things he’d be locked up for good.

Ryoga didn’t want to be a prisoner again. (( Is that why I agreed to Otosan’s request so quickly? Because even if he doesn’t entirely understand, going there will at least get me away from here? Maybe away from her? ))

"Hai," Ranma replied in a tone that said he ought to know that, oblivious to his companion’s unsteady thoughts. He glanced out over the darkened buildings of Nerima. "What’re ya doing up here anyway?"

"Looking at the stars."

Ranma shifted his gaze skyward, and his eyes narrowed slightly as he contemplated the glittering twinkles. "Why?"

"Because I can’t see them from my room." There was a bit of a strain to the words that Ryoga didn’t really mean to let slip out. He tried to take his isolation in stride . . . after all, he’d always been alone . . . but it seemed so much harder to accept now that he knew there was someone waiting for him on the outside. Someone he had deliberately hurt with his earlier words.

He quickly turned toward Ranma and reached out with his good arm, seizing the other young man’s hands with his own. (( Gotta fix this. Gotta fix it now! )) A regretful and apologetic bow came from within and manifested itself physically, and he lowered his head until his bangs were brushing against Ranma’s fingers.

Ranma wrestled one hand out of Ryoga’s grip and brushed it through the Lost Boy’s hair. "Ryoga?" he asked quietly.

"I’ve not properly thanked you for everything you did for me, Ranma," Ryoga began, shutting his eyes and privately adoring the feeling of Ranma’s slender fingers. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt the half-remembered touch of other fingers in his hair . . . small fingers that were gentle and hurting at the same time . . . and suppressed flashes of his body pressing into hers flickered within his mental vision. He worked a shiver away and shoved the memory back into the depths where it belonged. He did not want to think about such things . . . not with the pleasure of reality right here in front of him . . .

"You don’t hafta thank me, Ryo-kun," Ranma replied, a light fond laugh in his tone. "I did it cuz I love you."

Those words again. Why was it so hard to accept those words for what they really meant, and not what he’d come to expect them to mean? Ryoga frowned, looking up into Ranma’s dark sapphire eyes which seemed to mirror the color of the night sky. He privately had to wonder about the validity of the statement. Wouldn’t Ranma have done the same for any of his friends? For Shampoo or Ukyo? He’d already rescued Akane on more than one occasion. Why did he seem to think this was any different? Or was Ryoga the one making it different?

He saw that Ranma was about to question his expression so continued quickly, the guilt building within him once again. He lowered his head, fixed his gaze on the material of Ranma’s pants. "I also have to apologize, Ranma."

"What for? Ryoga, sit up." Ranma sounded annoyed, grasped him around the torso, mindful of the shoulder brace, and forcibly moved him into an upright position. "C’mon, you don’t gotta be all groveling like that. Just talk to me straight, okay? What’s up?"

The Lost Boy sighed heavily, nervous and unsettled. When he confessed his crime to Ranma, would it ruin everything after all? "I didn’t tell you everything about the conversation I had with Otosan."

"Oh?" Ranma frowned this time.

The Lost Boy continued in a rush. "I told you that we talked about us . . . and we did. I tried to explain everything to him . . . how I feel . . . wh - what you mean to me . . . and it wasn’t easy, since I don’t even understand how I feel myself. You say you love me, and I want to j - jump at that, and before . . . before I would have. But now I’m s - scared . . . though sometimes I get the feeling that I’m swinging in the other direction and thinking too much. So, I’m trying to just feel . . . and when I look at what I feel I realize that . . . " Ryoga looked up from his erratic rambling, pausing for a moment and taking a deep breath to steady himself. "I realize that . . . th - that I don’t want to be without you . . . "

Ranma blinked, a little surprised by such an abrupt statement following Ryoga’s winding attempt at logic. Then he smiled gently. "So, that’s what it all boils down to for you?"

Ryoga nodded.

"What’d your dad say about that?" Ranma asked, wondering if that had something to do with Hibiki-san’s request that his son come live in the States with him. Was he hoping to keep them apart? Hoping that what Ryoga felt was just grateful love and that he would eventually grow out of it?

"Oh, he had a lot to say about it," Ryoga assured dryly. "He’s not terribly comfortable with the idea and we argued about it for quite some time. Finally, I think I succeeded in putting it all in terms he could understand." The young man’s voice dropped into a lower pitch and his words seemed to glitter gently in the night air. "I told him that since I’ve been stuck in the hospital, the only times I haven’t felt lost were . . . when you were with me."

Ranma felt himself freeze and warm to life at the same time. He stared at Ryoga, a soft smile of wonder on his lips, gazing deep into those abyssal brown eyes which contained so much pain, so much hope . . . so many layers upon layers of emotion . . . In all the long months of their recovery, Ryoga had leaned on him for support and comfort, had depended on him to calm him after a break-down, had smiled and been glad to see him whenever he visited, but the Lost Boy had never given voice to how he felt deep inside. Ranma had known of and understood the confusion, the hesitation, even the fear. But he hadn’t known that Ryoga felt this way . . . that he really meant that much to the young man.

Ryoga saw Ranma’s expression and looked down, right hand sliding over to clutch at his left arm. "I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner . . . but you let me go and I was trying to use your gift . . . testing my freedom . . . and I think I’ve discovered that I really can’t get very far without someone to guide me."

"Ryo-kun," Ranma whispered, taking the young man’s hand before he could start clawing himself.

"You are the only one who’s ever both guided me and given me up," Ryoga continued, hardly noticing Ranma’s action. "When I explained that to Otosan, I think he finally got it . . . because he told me to ask you . . . to ask you to come to the States with me . . . "

It took a moment for Ryoga’s words to sink in. Ranma’s eyes widened and at first his thoughts were only of surprise. Ryoga -was- asking him to come with him! He wanted Ranma to be part of his life! Then, there was a small twitch of anger as he remembered that the Lost Boy hadn’t said anything about Ranma coming along earlier in his hospital room . . . in fact, he had been deliberately silent and left that part out, letting Ranma leave without even mentioning it. Damn it all! It had hurt so much to walk out that door, thinking that he was losing Ryoga for good! And Ryoga could have prevented that if he had just said . . .

Ranma blinked, feeling his anger dissipate almost as soon as it began. Remarkably enough, he realized that he understood. It had been a test. Ryoga had deliberately tested him to make sure that Ranma would let him go if he had to, to make sure that possession was no longer a factor in their relationship. And . . . and he had passed that test. He had proven himself to Ryoga and now the Lost Boy felt secure enough in the relationship to let it continue . . . to let it evolve . . .

"Ryoga," Ranma leaned forward, running his hand through the thick hair along the side of the young man’s face. Dark eyes were reluctantly lifted to meet his. "Ryoga, what would you have done if I had asked you to stay?"

The nomadic martial artist thought about it for a moment. If Ranma -had- protested his leaving, would he have gone anyway? Or would he have buckled and stayed simply because Ranma wanted him to, because of the wild fear within that said this was his last chance at love and he’d better take it if he knew what was good for him? Ryoga wasn’t sure, but he had a horrible suspicion that he would have chose the latter. Simply because that was what Ranma wanted. That was what would make Ranma happy and cause him the least amount of pain.

But he couldn’t tell Ranma that . . . that would mean that he was falling back into his old pattern and Ranma wouldn’t like it if he did that. Ranma wanted Ryoga to think for himself, to make his own decisions. And Ryoga wanted that too, but it was so much easier to make up his own mind when Ranma’s voice cut through the insistent humming from another Realm and helped to center him.

Tightening his jaw and firmly inserting a glint into his gaze, Ryoga unwaveringly replied. "I would have gone anyway, and the hell with you, Saotome."

Ranma laughed and ruffled Ryoga’s hair a bit, causing the other boy to pull back and bat at his offending hand. "Good!" he yipped, poking at Ryoga’s chest instead. "And in that case, I’ll go with you."

Ryoga again knocked Ranma’s hand aside. "Are you sure?" he asked quietly. "Nerima is your - "

"Nerima’s nothing to me except where I’ve lived the last two years," Ranma interrupted. "Oyaji’s disowned me, I ain’t inheriting the training hall, and Ukyo’s taking care of Akane. I got nothing here, Ryoga. Nothing ‘cept for you, and since you’re gonna be in California, then that’s where I wanna be too. ‘Sides," he grinned cockily, and would have flipped his bangs aside if he still had any. "You think you can find your way around L.A. on your own? Ha!"

(( Insert blank expression here. Tilt the head slightly. Glaze the eyes. He likes to be in charge, so let him be in charge. )) "L.A.?" Ryoga looked puzzled. "Is that close to Santa Monica?"

"I rest my case," Ranma said pointedly, smiling. Ryoga liked to see him smile. It was an expression that seemed to have to power to make everything better. He tried to return it, and the pleased light that came up in Ranma’s eyes told the Lost Boy that he had succeeded.

Ranma leaned forward, wrapped his arms around Ryoga and pulled the other boy into a tight squishing hug, all of his earlier unhappiness and worry completely washed away. Okay, so Ryoga hadn’t said "I love you," yet, but what he had uttered was close enough to suit Ranma. The "I love you," would come eventually, he was sure of it.

Ryoga settled into the hug, letting himself rest heavily in Ranma’s arms, feeling suddenly tired and achy. It had been a very long, physical, and emotionally trying day. Ranma was more than willing to oblige him, happy to at last know where he stood with the Lost Boy and for the first time in longer than he could remember - looking forward to the future with anticipation. Together, they sat silently on the roof, feeling the soft breeze whisper around them, and comfortably sharing their energies.

Ryoga gazed up at Ranma’s perfectly sculptured profile, letting his eyes drink in the glow of that smooth skin and the shine in those sapphirine eyes. Just beyond, the stars were still glittering, growing ever brighter in the heavens as the lights of Nerima were gradually turned off for the night. He slowly realized that this was the first time in his life that he had ever known true contentment, and he prayed that he would be able to carry this moment with him forever.

The wind brought a gentle rustling sound to his ears, a soft hissing which spoke with the bell tones of a young woman . . . someplace else, a small hand reached for him, slender fingers curving through the ether as they sought outwards . . .

"Ryoga?" Ranma shook him lightly, worried when he glanced down to see that the Lost Boy was pulling his nails down his forearm. The young martial artist gently worked his fingers into Ryoga’s thick hair, while he carefully prevented the self-injuring with his other hand. "You okay? What are you thinking about?"

Ryoga sighed softly, already regretting the loss of that perfect moment of peace. "Ikioi . . . " he muttered, and wasn’t surprised to feel the other young man stiffen slightly in response to the name.

"I wish I could ask you to forget her," Ranma replied quietly, leaning down to brush his lips against the Lost Boy’s forehead. "But that wouldn’t be fair to you or her. She -did- love you, Ryoga. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but she really did."

Ryoga nodded. He knew that. And he had loved her too, in the beginning. Perhaps even in the end, despite everything, he wasn’t really sure. But he did wish that she would go away now . . . that her gently lilting voice and the touch of her small hands would leave him alone and allow him to get on with his life. He didn’t want to listen to her . . . didn’t want to hear her . . . didn’t want to feel her . . .

Ranma tightened his embrace when he felt Ryoga shiver. He wondered if it was from the brush of the cooling air, but highly doubted it. Pressing his cheek into his companion’s soft hair, Ranma closed his eyes and sent his thoughts forward and his energies into the young man in his arms. He knew that there was still a lot of pain, a lot of uncertainty, and a lot of bad memories to be worked through. But damn it all . . . now that he had Ryoga, he was not going to give up and he was not going to let go . . . unless he had to . . .

Ryoga felt the surge of energy and a faint smile found a home on his lips. He gently laid a kiss against Ranma’s neck and then settled himself comfortably into the embrace, pressing his head against the other boy’s chest. Through the layers of clothing, he could sense Ranma’s strong heat beat and lost himself listening. Its regular predictable rhythm was comforting and loud enough to drown out the ethereal monotonous hum that played in the back of his mind.

Ranma’s heart beat. The Lost Boy grasped the sound and held onto it tightly . . .

~~ owari ~~

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