Chapter Text
It was a lovely “non-date,” just the kind the couple adored. They were going to eat ice cream together and then head to the batting cages. If Uncle Soun gave them some money, they’d stop by a public bath to change and afterward buy a few clothes; maybe they’d even catch a new movie. Akane would take advantage of the fact that Ranma always fell asleep during films to give him a small, sweet kiss on the cheek, while Ranma, naturally, would keep pretending to be asleep. It was the ideal “non-date,” the kind of afternoon they’d been repeating for almost half a year with quiet happiness. Next time they might have a “non-date” at the amusement park. Ranma loved the rides, and Akane knew she did too, though they never argued about which one was best. Just hearing each other’s laughter was enough to know they’d picked the right one.
Of course, after the ultimate “non-couple” event they would stop holding hands and just walk around as if nothing had happened, though lately brushing shoulders had become a silent habit. That afternoon they moved along that way while Akane stole glances at Ranma. It had always been like this. When Ranma was taller, Akane was receptive and let him set the pace of their closeness; when Ranma was smaller, on the other hand, it awakened an almost chivalrous impulse in her, one that never came from thinking her fragile, but from an irrepressible desire to spoil her. In those moments, Ranma became her again in Akane’s mind, someone to protect without a second thought.
In a way, the couple had a whole lifetime ahead to keep getting to know each other, and yet neither of them believed it was possible to fully know another person. There were, however, small certainties that bloomed when they were alone and that both guarded like treasures. One was that, no matter which body Ranma had that day, Akane offered him the exact same affection, the same closeness, the same tenderness, as if that variable had never mattered at all. The other was that Ranma, though he’d never admit it in front of anyone else, sometimes enjoyed being the smaller of the two. There was something oddly pleasant about letting Akane fill that protective space with such disarming naturalness.
“What are we getting your dad for his birthday?”
Akane was a little distracted, too busy studying her partner’s eyes to follow the conversation. She blinked, puzzled, before answering.
“Why?”
“It’s supposed to be his birthday in a week. Remember? Kasumi told me.”
“Oh, right…” Akane felt terrible the moment she remembered. She paused, thoughtful, before speaking again. “I think we should head back. I forgot to buy something.”
“Could we…” Ranma turned his face away, completely red with embarrassment, “buy him the tobacco he likes?”
Akane felt an unbearable urge to scoop up her partner and cover him with kisses. Sometimes she couldn’t handle how adorable he could be.
It should be illegal, she thought as they both turned around to go back to the shopping street. Between the two of them, they bought the tobacco, an elegant box to keep it in, and a new shogi board. As they left the store, they shared a knowing look. For a moment they felt like model kids, the kind who seemed to have everything under control even though they were really improvising every step. Ranma had never celebrated his father’s birthday. After all, Genma never celebrated Ranma’s either, so for years the date had meant nothing at all. But ever since he arrived at the Tendo household, that indifference had slowly started to crumble. Just as it had with Akane’s birthday, he now found himself nervous and happy about preparing something for someone else.
“I think we should bake him a cake next year,” Ranma said with a shyness he could barely hide.
Akane smiled with a touch of uncertainty.
“Won’t I ruin it?”
Ranma shrugged it off and smiled with that ease that always undid Akane.
“You’ve gotten better, and I can help. When I was twelve, my dad left me at a pastry shop to pay off one of his debts, so I learned how to make a few things. At least I found out I’m better at baking than at collecting debts.”
Akane wrapped an arm around Ranma’s waist, her expression full of concern. Each new story about her partner’s childhood was further proof of the kind of life Genma had forced him to endure, and it hurt that Ranma could tell it so lightly, as if those memories no longer weighed on him. As Akane hugged her tighter, Ranma kept smiling, though now a blush had stained her face the same deep red as her clothes. The two of them were enjoying that moment of intimacy when a figure appeared in front of them. ShanPu, true to herself, hurled something straight at Ranma. Akane reacted before she even understood what was happening and wrapped him in a firm embrace, shielding him with her own body.
“Ranma!”
Akane’s voice barely broke the air before they both lost consciousness.
When they woke, they were still on the same sidewalk. The sun was still shining, the bags lay where they’d dropped them, and the noise of the street had never stopped, but the whole world seemed to breathe in a different way. Ranma was the first to open his eyes. He let go of the bags and ran to Akane, his heart pounding in his chest.
“Akane! Akane, answer me!”
Akane slowly opened her eyes. Her whole body felt heavy, as if she were just recovering from poisoning, and it took her several seconds to focus. The first thing she found were Ranma’s wet eyes. That expression was all too familiar. Ever since Jusenkyo, every time Akane got hurt, Ranma looked at her exactly like that, as if fear might crack his chest open.
“Idiot, don’t do that!”
Akane responded by leaning in just enough to plant a tiny kiss on Ranma’s cheek. The reaction was immediate. Ranma puffed out his cheeks in a childish pout and looked away.
“Unfeminine girl…”
Akane burst out laughing.
“I think you’re less feminine than me, Ranma.”
“Of course I’m less feminine. I’m a guy,” he answered with the pride of someone who’d just been paid a compliment.
“Oh, really?” Akane narrowed her eyes with a mischievous smile, pointing at the small bun she herself had put in her hair just a little while ago. “You don’t look very masculine either.”
Ranma was already opening her mouth to protest when Akane jolted.
“What about ShanPu?”
“I don’t know. And I don’t care what that cat does,” he said.
Akane let out a small laugh, though the strange feeling remained lodged deep in her chest. They resumed walking at a slow pace, both of them trying to figure out what it was that didn’t quite fit. Everything looked the same and, at the same time, slightly different. Maybe there were more buildings than before. Maybe some streets were too wide. Maybe they were just disoriented from passing out. Neither could pinpoint the source of the unease, but they shared the same silent certainty that something had changed. When they finally reached the dojo, they opened the door with the same confidence as always.
“We’re home!”
They took off their shoes almost out of habit, and when they looked up, they froze. In front of them stood an elderly man, tall, his body still strong despite the years, with long white hair falling over his shoulders and a beard as thick as his mustache, giving him the look of one of those masters who seemed to have spent an entire lifetime atop a mountain. He wore an elegant black gi embroidered with a dragon and a phoenix, threads that seemed to catch the light. The tea cup slipped from his hands and shattered on the floor, but the man didn’t even glance at the pieces. He walked quickly to the two young people and hugged them with a strength impossible for someone his age.
“I knew you’d come back! I knew it!”
Tears streamed freely down his cheeks as he repeated those words over and over.
“Excuse me, sir… who are you?” Ranma asked, pulling away from the hug cautiously.
The old man stood motionless, unable to answer right away. Akane also stepped back a few paces and then met his eyes. They were a deep, serene dark brown, a gaze that inspired respect without needing to impose itself. Her heart began to pound violently. There was something unbearably familiar in those eyes, something she refused to accept and yet already knew before she could put it into words.
“…Dad?”
The old man’s face broke into a smile full of relief and sadness all at once.
“Welcome back, my daughter. It’s been thirty-four years.”