Building Bridges

Ranma said little to Kentaro for weeks after their first kiss. The only time ever she spoke in a sentence was during their afternoon training sessions. But then she would only indicate the number of laps she wanted him to run, and nothing more beyond that.

She ran beside him this time, instead of balancing on his head like before - another change in their relationship that Kentaro was glad of. Of course, the kiss still stood out in his mind as the most important part but it _was_ nice not to have people staring at him while he worked out.

Kentaro looked over at Ranma, who was running lightly beside him, her ponytail bouncing on her back. Her endurance never failed to amaze him. At the end of twenty laps he would be tired, to say the least, but she would keep on running. It was that, more than anything else, that made him want to push the limits of his endurance, to keep up with Ranma. Ranma saw him looking at her and she smiled - this time setting a murderous pace, leaving him in her dust.

He wanted to call out to Ranma, to ask her to slow down, but he stifled the thought almost as soon as it had appeared. He couldn't! But he must, if he wanted to be with her. Gritting his teeth, setting his mind Ranma's moving form and ignoring his body's screams of pain, he infused his being with confidence - confidence that he could overcome any obstacle, and he sped after Ranma. Ranma didn't look back, still running.

Kentaro's breath came in tortured gasps and his legs were starting to feel like hot lead - but he didn't give up. He wouldn't give up. The distance between him and Ranma decreased little by little. Nothing else mattered but Ranma, who looked for the world as if she was out on a stroll, so casually did she keep her punishing pace on the track. It took Kentaro an eternity of seemingly-endless suffering to catch up beside Ranma.

Ranma looked over at him, and she began to smile but the smile changed to a shocked expression. She halted in her tracks, but Kentaro kept on running. He must keep up with her...he must, or she wouldn't think much of him....he... Kentaro suddenly realized that Ranma wasn't beside him. He slowed to a halt and fell to his knees, gasping for breath, his legs on fire. Ranma ran up to Kentaro and knelt beside him, concern written all over her face.

'Kentaro! There was no need to push yourself like that, man! You didn't have to try and keep up with me, you know! Jeez, your face. It looks red enough to pass for a tomato!'

'Ran....ma...*gasp*....couldn't fall behind...*hahh* *hahh*....must keep up...with you....', wheezed Kentaro, sweat dripping from his face.

Ranma sat back on her haunches, eyeing Kentaro speculatively. That idiot! Dedication to the art is one thing, but going too far is another. She remembered, vividly, how her father had put her in a pit of hungry cats - wrapped in fish sausage, and she shuddered involuntarily. She had learnt a powerful technique but at the cost of a part of her sanity. For her, it was too much to pay. Kentaro's face returned to a semblance of normality and Ranma heaved a sigh of relief. If he had pushed himself any further he would have given himself a stroke, or something. He peered up at her.

'Hey, you actually spoke today, Ranma.'

She started at his comment. It was true. She had been avoiding him for the past three weeks, except for their afternoon runs and conditioning sessions, and hardly more than three or four words passed between them each day. Her hand stole to her lips and she felt them briefly, feeling the sensation of her kissing Kentaro, and reliving the experience again. She found that she didn't really mind the kiss....until she gave it more thought.

She had let a guy kiss her! It was nothing like what Mikado Sanzenin had done to her. Mikado _forced_ himself on her. But this time, _she_ had let Kentaro touch his lips to hers, and had let him give her a kiss, gentle as the touch of a falling cherry blossom petal. She took in a breath and let it out, slowly.

'I needed some time to think, Kentaro. I didn't mean to be so quiet. Sorry.' If only he knew how much she had gone through after she had stormed out of his room that night.

She thought back to what he had said to her, that night. His words had struck her to the heart, and all her discipline as a martial artist had flown out the window at that moment. She remembered, vividly, how she had grabbed him by the shirt, and how she had almost buried her fist in his face.

Then she recalled how Kentaro had closed his eyes in acceptance of his punishment. It was an image she couldn't get out of her mind for weeks after, haunting her waking and sleeping hours.

She had tried to justify her anger to herself. Kentaro was being heartless and perverted, she had told herself. , she had said to herself over and over again. Now she knew that there was no excuse for her losing control like that. She had been about to strike a friend, to seriously hurt him, for saying what she herself was beginning to feel was true, but refused to admit it to herself.

It took her an emotionally painful journey to convince herself to try what Kentaro had suggested. When she returned to the college, the first place she went to was the track. At dawn. Wearing a white sundress. She didn't know then, and she didn't know now, why in the world she wore a dress....but...., she thought to herself.

'Oh, that's okay, Ranma. Just hearing you speak in a complete sentence is apology enough.' He smiled at her.

Again he made his feelings for her as clear as crystal. He did like her. And she....she didn't know about her feelings for him. Yet.

'Remember, I said I would make no promises, Kentaro', she said with a serious expression on her face, trying to impress the gravity of her statement upon him.

'I know, Ranma. But I can hope, can't I? I gladly get up in the morning, at this ungodly hour, to be with you....surely you can take that into consideration....?'

Ranma changed her earlier assumption. He wasn't dedicated to the Art. He was dedicated to her. Inwardly she seethed with barely controlled anger. He was letting his hormones get the better of him! The Art was nothing more than a means to get her! Kentaro was taking her training and twisting it to his own ends. He was thinking with his......

Her rage subsided when she looked again at him. He started a bit, and smiled sheepishly at his jumpiness. He made no pretence of his feelings for her, and he was honest. And insightful. It flattered her, somewhat, to be the centre of attention in someone's life....but the fact that Kentaro was a guy dampened _that_ thought. She wondered if this is how Ryoga felt when he had snagged her with the Koi Fishing Rod. She knew that she did like him, but what....?

That sense of a difference between her situation and Ryoga's always escaped her, eluding her attempts to nail it down and examine it. It played about the fringes of her consciousness, but when she looked for it, it was gone. It surfaced irregularly, and she could never see it. It frustrated her. That *something* about this relationship told her that this was not how Ryoga felt at that time.

And speaking of feelings, it looked as if it may be time to teach Kentaro the rudiments of the Art, to help divert his...energy...away from herself. She stood up and waited for Kentaro to get up.

Kentaro rose painfully to his feet and stood beside Ranma. For a moment she had looked angry, then a brief flash of sadness, then it had went to a pensive, thoughtful look, and then it had turned into understanding. He wondered what she was thinking.

Ranma set her legs apart at shoulder length, back straight, fists clenched at her sides.

'Kentaro. Remember what I said about teaching you to punch?'

'Yeah. You're teaching me now?'

'HAAIIIYAH!', she cried, shooting out her right fist, concentration furrowing her brows. She relaxed her stance and looked at Kentaro, a serious expression on her face, and said, 'Remember that stance. Learn how I punched. I'll see you in the gym tomorrow, same time, and we'll start to learn the basics of the Art. See you later, Kentaro.' With that, she took a running leap and soared high into the air, at least twenty feet or so, and she disappeared in short order.

Kentaro stood there, looking after her. Maybe there was something to her story about magical buckets, schizo-physical curses and wrinkled old mummies that either pogoed about on sticks, with no apparent means of support save for balance, or conducted thefts of female underwear and threw ridiculously huge fuse-bombs. Certainly the last time he had seen someone leap THAT high was during the last televised showing of the Olympics - and the guy had used a pole to help him. Ranma didn't use anything except her leg power.

He aped Ranma's stance, and punched until his arms and his back grew tired. She made it seem so easy but it really wasn't. He had to keep his back straight, knees slightly bent, feet shoulder length apart. Then he had to twist his body, like a corkscrew, and snap his fist out at the last moment - so as to gain the maximum power for a punch.

But sheer determination, born of his desire not to fail Ranma, kept him punching past the point of pain. He transcended pain and felt a not unpleasant stirring in his soul, and that something guided his punches and almost made his punching motions second nature.

Kentaro couldn't have known it but he had touched the Art, and he had started to scratch the surface of this untapped source of power. He lost himself in the steady but strangely meaningful rhythm of the punches - until a hand tapped him on the shoulder.

Startled, he whirled around - to see Komatsu standing there, books in hand.

'Hey, Kentaro! I see you're still as dedicated as ever to that Ranma chick. Heh.'

'Dedicated? What do you mean?'

Komatsu ignored Kentaro's question, and leaned closer, and asked in a confiding tone, 'So, 'Taro, how far have you gotten with her?' He slapped Kentaro on the back and waited for Kentaro to respond.

'Come on. She's not like that. She doesn't just jump into your arms like ANY girl, you know. She's got more pride and dignity than that.'

'Don't tell me you two haven't....' Komatsu put the tips of his index fingers together.

'What's it to you? Why do you want to know?' His tone grew slightly angry, and Komatsu picked up on it.

'Hey, hey. Take it EASY, man. No need to bite my head off for that! If you don't wanna talk, then just say so.'

Kentaro sighed. Komatsu wouldn't take silence for an answer. He'd only come back every day to ask him that same question again and again. He had to tell him something or he'd be pestered perpetually.

'Komatsu. Pal. If I tell you this, you must promise to keep it to yourself, alright?'

'Sure, man. I swear I won't say a word.' Komatsu made a zipping motion across his mouth, eyes twinkling with seriousness and amusement mixed together.

'Are you sure? Because it is important.'

'I SWEAR. I promise. Now, tell me.'

'We....we..umm.....'

'Go on. Don't be shy, you've come this far!'

'We've..we've....kissed. Once.'

'What?! That is important?! Heck, I kiss and pet my girlfriend every day, and she does the same. A measly kiss is nothing, man. What I'm talking about is the.....'

'Komatsu.'

'Hey, what? A kiss is piddly-nuts compared to what you can....'

'KOMATSU. She's not that kind of girl, okay?' The tone of Kentaro's voice left no doubts as to how he felt about Ranma, and Komatsu obligingly shut up.

It was true, it was important, but it was all a matter of perspective. One kiss with other girls might not mean as much, but a single kiss with Ranma meant more than all the kisses in the world to him. To get that kiss out of her had been quite an experience, but it was worth the wait and effort. There was something about Ranma that was special. In a strange sort of way. He could see it in the way she moved and in the way she spoke; she was different, somehow.

'Hey, Kentaro. We have a test tomorrow. We'll study like crazed fools tonight, okay? Put your thoughts of Ranma away. There's a test to pass.'

With that, and a nod from Kentaro signalling assent, Komatsu left the track to go to classes. Then, after Komatsu had disappeared from sight, he made his way to the other end of the track, to the door in the chainlink fence. Every step of the way was torture, but he forced himself to move. How he wished to be able to jump like Ranma did!

As he plodded laboriously to the exit, he thought back to how Ranma looked, and sounded, when she went to check on him. No mistake. She _was_ concerned for him, and the tone of her voice left no doubts in his mind that she did care for him. Then she got angry over...something, but it had quickly turned to thoughtfulness and understanding. She was like a kettle of hot water - concealing turbulent emotions beneath a hard exterior, but when those feelings reached the boiling point....

He was halfway to the entrance now, his legs feeling no better than before. When she had apologized for not saying much to him, she looked....sad? But over what? It was more than a fleeting glimpse of her real self, but less than a complete baring of her soul. In that moment, when he caught that look of self-pity and anguish, it was as if a door had opened in his mind, beckoning him to go through and talk to her, and comfort her. But the door closed just as quickly and he was shut without, robbed of a chance to know her problems better. Ranma seemed much sadder than she was before she had stalked out of his room that night. And now, it seemed to be eating her from the inside out.

Kentaro resolved to get to the root of her problems the moment he saw the chance to do so. He opened the door in the chainlink fence, stepped through, and shut it behind him.

- - - - - - After classes and meetings with his clubs, he went to his room and fell on the bed, exhausted. , he thought. The books in his hands fell to the floor with a clatter and Kentaro stared at the ceiling, seeing Ranma's face appear - with that indescribably sad look on it. He sat up on his bed and wondered what Ranma was so unhappy about.

Then he made his decision, for better or for worse. Again, ignoring the protests from his body, he stood up and opened the first drawer in his desk. He took a piece of paper out and read it, carefully. Then he wrote a short note to Komatsu, apologizing in advance for not being present to act as his study partner, and he left his room, shutting the door on the way out and taping the note to the door.

Fifteen minutes later, he stood in front of the door to room 121. It would have been a nondescript door, devoid of any nametag or decoration, but for the obscene words written in white chalk on it, the word 'Lesbian' written in the biggest letters of all. His hair stood on end when he read that, but nor from surprise or fear - from rage. There were some parts where an attempt had been made to rub the words out, but there were more words than erasures. Evidently the owner was not well-liked by some people and judging from the large amounts of vulgar words, the owner had just about given up trying to keep the door free of graffiti.

He clenched his fists and snarled in anger, the sound echoing down the empty hallway. How _dare_ they?! He lifted a hand to knock on the door but he paused. Then he spat on the palm of his right hand and started to wipe the words off of the door. He had just finished rubbing out the biggest word, 'Lesbian', when the door abruptly flew open and a slim hand snaked out, latched onto his shirt and pulled him roughly into the room.

He was thrown, like a rag doll, face-first onto the hard floor and he heard the door slam shut and a girl yelling at him. Kentaro didn't hear a word of it because, right now, all his world consisted of a merciless concrete floor and pain. Luckily he recovered fast and turned around to face an angry girl.

'ou..bastard!! Don't you guys know when to give.....up? K- Kentaro...? What the...?'

'Nice way to welcome your guests, Ranma. Next time, remind me to wear some armor, okay?' Kentaro slowly and painfully got himself back to a sitting position. , he thought as he gazed at her, his pain forgotten as he admired the star-shaped designs on her red-colored clothes, the ones with a pink swirl in the middle of each of them. Who would have known the crossections of a ramen fishcake would look so....tasty, when used as decoration on her pyjamas? Her hair wasn't bound up into a ponytail and it flowed down her back.

'What were you doing to my door? I heard a sound and I....' She trailed off, opened the door and looked at the surface, right hand resting on her doorknob. 'You were rubbing the words off....'

'Yeah. I just couldn't stand to see those words. They made me angry.'

'Thanks, but I can take care of it myself. There is no need to defend me, Kentaro.'

'What's this...', he gestured to the door, '...all about anyways?'

Ranma's eyes flared with fury and her hand - so tiny and delicate! - crumpled the metal doorknob like paper. She favored him with a glare and Kentaro took a step back, despite knowing, somehow, that she wouldn't hit him in anger. Then she tore her gaze from him and looked at the graffiti on the door, her face still indescribably angry.

She seemed to be more angry at something or someone else than at him, from the way she refused to look at him, and from the way her eyes seemed to glare off into the distance, seeing things that he couldn't. He started to wonder if he had pushed Ranma too far when that look left her eyes and was replaced by irritation. She turned back to Kentaro, and he was relieved to see that her anger had dissipated.

Like a boiling kettle of water, he mused to himself. Ranma keeps all of her anger inside of her, but when the strain of keeping it inside is too much to bear she lets some of it out - just enough to ease the strain, but then it starts all over again, like some vicious cycle. It would have burned itself out over time but this particular kettle seemed to replenish itself from some hidden reserve of self-loathing, fury, and regret.

'Uhh...I'll go get a towel, or something, to clean the door up, okay?', he said to her. She shook her head and faced the door, one hand resting lightly on the wooden surface.

'No, I'll do it myself. After all, it's my problem. And sorry for throwing you like that.' She started to wipe the door with her hand, a laborious task at best.

'Now. If you've calmed down. Why would someone, or a bunch of people, write stuff on your door?', he asked in as calm a voice as possible.

'None of your business. Besides, it's not your problem.' Her tone left no doubt as to how she'd like to leave this thread of conversation. 'How did you find my room?'

'I asked around, Ranma.'

'Well...I guess any fool can do that. What I really want to know is, why?'

'Well...um. I don't know how to say this. I hope you don't get offended or anything like that....you know. It's just...just...I wanted to ask you this question ever since you came back but....'

Ranma held up a hand to still any further words from him. She looked at him for a long moment, as if trying to decide what to do. She finished off the cleaning and shut the door. Then she walked over to a calendar, picked up an eraser and wiped a day, Wednesday, in the week after this week on the calendar, clean of writing. She grabbed a marker, popped the cap and put the tip of the marker on the empty spot on the calendar. She stood there for a while, marker trembling slightly. Then, carefully and meticulously, she wrote the word 'date' in that spot. Without bothering to cap the marker, she tossed it onto her desk and turned to Kentaro.

'I-In two weeks? Wednesday? You come here, after training, and...', she took in a steadying breath, '...and we go out downtown on a date. Okay? Just to see how it's like...this time around.' It seemed like she had needed a supreme effort just to get those words out because she was shaking slightly. He caught a faint trace of fear on her face before she took control of herself and stopped her shivering.

'D-Date?! But....' Kentaro started to explain that that was not what he had come here for but Ranma cut him off with a wave of her hand. These questions, and more, swirled around in his head and the bite of jealousy tugged at his heart, and threatened to rip it asunder, but he kept his silence and waited for Ranma to speak. She paced the room restlessly with her hands behind her, taking care not to look at him.

'I'm gonna wear something that is not a dress. Anything but a dress, or a skirt. And remember what I said about promises. And keep your hands to yourself.' She had a frowning expression on her face and she started to open her closet, as if to see what clothing she could wear, but she seemed to remember something and her hand shot behind her back again.

'Uhh, Ranma?'

'Yeah?' She stopped her pacing and looked at him, a slight tinge of red coloring her cheeks and matching her pyjamas.

'I..I'm not here to ask you on a date.'

'YOU WHAT?!', she snarled as she seemed to tower over him, despite the fact that she is considerably shorter than him. Face burning a bright crimson in embarrassment, she stomped over to the calendar and grabbed her eraser.

'No! Don't erase it!!', pleaded Kentaro. Oh, the chance of a lifetime, about to be erased with a swipe of the eraser!!

'Why not?! You're not here for a date, am I right?!' Her hand was poised to strike the word `date' off the calendar, trembling slightly. She glared at him over her shoulder with narrowed eyes, waiting for him to reply.

'Actually, I'm here to....to ask you what was bothering you. I know you're still upset over something, and it has to do with the time after you left my room. I just thought you'd like to talk about it, that's all.'

Ranma let the eraser fall from her nerveless fingers. Kentaro never failed to amaze her with his powers of observation. He seemed to make it a hobby of his to attune himself to her feelings. Now that she thought about it, it had been gnawing away within her, making her act like that bastard Ryoga for the past two weeks.

There was a time in her life when depression had hardly ever sunk its claws so deep into her. But that was a long time ago. Her previous life, it seemed to have been as long as a moment in time, is irretrievable. It shamed her to have Kentaro tell her what she had refused to admit to herself. She didn't even want to think about it, but seeing that Kentaro wouldn't leave her room until he has gotten some answers from her....

She could throw him out by force, but she didn't want to. Kentaro did not deserve the same sort of treatment she reserved for those she despised.

She turned about, mechanically walked to her bed and fell on it with a dull thump, lying on her back, staring at the ceiling, and remembering. Kentaro seated himself on the bed, close to Ranma's head. She heaved a sigh.

'I guess that if I keep it bottled inside of me, I'll never get over it. Okay. I'll tell you. But you must promise not to interrupt me at all, until I've finished. I know some things may be hard to believe......', she said in a serious voice.

'I'm starting to doubt myself, Ranma. I mean, you cleared a twenty foot fence in one jump, today.'

'That's nothing. You should see the stuff I can really do, Kentaro, but that's beside the point. The thing is.....you listen while I speak. Got that?'

Kentaro nodded his head and Ranma sat up on the bed and put her hands on her knees.

'Kentaro, remember when...I left your room? Before the summer break?'

'How could I not?' Kentaro could still vividly recall that moment of furious confrontation, and that look in Ranma's eyes was almost too terrible to remember - but he forced himself to remember as he turned his head away from Ranma.

Those eyes, like those of an angry dragoness, had transfixed him to the core of his being and promised doom. He didn't know where he had gotten the strength to keep throwing those painful words at Ranma, perhaps it was stupidity, but his mouth had seemed to have a mind of its own. Then Ranma had grabbed him by his shirt front and he had shut his eyes, so that he wouldn't have to see the fist that would send him into the dark world of unconsciousness.

When the blow never landed, he had opened his eyes - to see Ranma looking at him with a strange expression on her face. She had let him go and stomped out of his room - and he didn't see her for the entire summer break.

Kentaro looked back at Ranma.

Ranma could see the questioning look in his face.

'I went back to Nerima Ward, my old district. More to the point, I went back to....'

'The Tendo Dojo', he interjected suddenly.

Somehow, Ranma wasn't surprised that he had guessed her destination. It was reassuring to see how much Kentaro remembered of her background story. He accepted all of her stories with a look of understanding, and patience. But she could still tell that he didn't really believe what she had told him of her previous life. She took a deep breath to steady herself. Then she launched into her story, the latest recounting of her past life - but one of the most painful.

'Where will I begin....ah, yes. I...

Ranma hopped off the train's top and onto the landing of Nerima's train station, a white duffel bag slung across her shoulders. She had taken the scenic route, getting off at every stop and staying there for as long as she could, at least until she got tired of washing dishes and serving customers so that she could pay her way in the ryokans.

Anything but think of the Dojo. And Akane. But now, reality has caught up on her and she is forced to confront the object of her fears, one of the reasons she had left the college so suddenly, among other...considerations. Again Kentaro's face insinuated itself into her daydreams and again she grabbed the image and stuffed it back into the recesses of her mind. , she thought to herself.

Ranma dodged and weaved through the crowd of people at the train station and stepped out onto the streets of Nerima. She basked in the throng of people walking, shopping, playing, eating and talking in the streets, in restaurants and in shops. *This* felt like home, for sure.

, she thought as she immersed herself into the ambiance of Nerima Ward. The same fruit- vendor still sold his goods at the street corner, and she waved to him. He waved back and motioned her to come over. She came up to him and he tossed her a plum.

'Hey, I haven't seen you in a while! How are you doing? How's school?', he greeted her enthusiastically.

'Fine. I'm doing great.' She took a bite of the plum. The skin was bitter and stung her mouth, but the interior was as sweet as liquid sugar. Normally she would have gagged over something as sweet tasting as this, but the plum's skin made it slightly bittersweet.

'Why are you back? Here to visit?' He arranged his wares.

'No. I...needed a, umm, break from school. A long break.' Kentaro's face flashed through her mind, again, and she shuddered. To think he had told her to accept her fate. Like hell she would. No way she is going to become a girl just like that, especially not for him. Then she thought back to what Akane had said about having a boyfriend.....and her eyes narrowed. She was going to find out who that guy was, even if it costs her life to know.

'Ahh. I wish I could go to school, you know? Learn more about things other than selling fruit on some street corner. Get an education. And maybe meet a girl whom I'd like to be my wife. But selling fruit is all I know and it doesn't pay enough to get me to college.' The man shook his head sadly. A lady came up, picked out three oranges and paid him. He thanked her sincerely and pocketed the money.

Which reminded Ranma. She dug into her pockets, searching for a 50 yen piece, but the man held up a hand.

'It's free, girl. On me. Think of this as a welcoming gift.'

She flinched when he said the word `girl', but she forgave him, inwardly. He didn't know about the curse.

Then it occurred to her that she didn't even know his name.

She was always so used to buying fruit from him, on a regular basis, that names were not needed for a friendship to grow between him and her. And it was a friendship that she liked, taking into account the likely permanency of her current gender. He liked her, and she liked him, but not in the relationship sense. His eyes would always seek her face, not her body, and his smiles told of genuine friendship. His words were honest and straightforward. And he was insightful. He never failed to comment on her mood, or suggest a solution to her problems.

He was so unlike the boys in her old class in Furinkan High. Not a day would go by, at that time, without her getting the feeling that she was being ogled by some guy. Hiroshi and Daisuke, to their credit, tried their hardest to treat her as if she had never changed - but the call of their hormones addled their brains. There was a time she had caught the both of them sneaking peeks at her body. She stopped associating too often with the both of them, a move that she couldn't help but regret doing. Hiroshi and Daisuke understood, of course, but that still didn't change her problems.

She opened her mouth to ask him his name but again he held up a hand. He nodded at Ranma, somehow already knowing what she was going to ask for. He smiled.

'We didn't need names then. We don't need them now. Names are who we are supposed to be. We assume that identity each day we wake, and that defines who we are. We have to act as our name dictates. We have to strive to live up to what our names mean, and represent. We are constrained to act as our name tells us to act. Anything connected to your name like promises and burdens only hold you down.'

He fiddled with an orange, then he began to peel it. 'I like to think that to be nameless is to be free of these obligations. If I know your name and you know mine, our friendship becomes fettered in some inexplicable way. I have to treat you as your name dictates, not as my heart and soul tells me to, and you have to do the same to me. You're my friend, and I'm sure you think the same way too. What else matters?'

Ranma smiled back, not quite understanding. The man just shook his head.

'Don't worry, you will. One day, you will', he said to her.

With that, the man threw her another plum. She waved goodbye to the fruit-vendor as she made her way down the street and he waved back. Then Ranma followed the road until it came to an end - with a familiar fence running parallel to the river below. Ranma hopped onto the fence and began her journey home, to the Tendo Dojo.

She was about halfway home when a figure stepped out from behind a building. The person started to walk towards Ranma, with purpose. Ranma stood on the fence and waited, a dozen things buzzing through her mind.

Ryoga stopped five feet from Ranma. He looked different than Ranma remembered him. He had no backpack and he only carried his umbrella. His arms looked bigger and more corded with muscle, and his bearing was more confident. His hair was longer too, and he wasn't wearing his bandanna. He had a slightly unhappy expression but his eyes twinkled, as if he had a secret he wished to share with her, but withholding it for reasons of his own.

'Ryoga. Haven't seen you in a while, man.'

'Same here Ranma. Why are you back?', asked Ryoga with narrowed eyes, his entire posture suggesting violence.

'I'm only here for a visit. To get away from school and to find out who the hell is......I mean, to see Akane. See how she's doin' and all that.' Ranma tried to make her voice as casual as possible but she failed. The imaginary presence of Akane's boyfriend angered her. How dare he date with her fiancee?!

Ryoga's face was now expressionless and he stared silently at Ranma. The two didn't say a word for many long minutes, and Ryoga's eyes bored deep into her. , she thought.

'I suppose things are different now. You're a girl now. All the better for me, then. So come on, let's go to the Tendo Dojo.'

'WHAT? Why are things different now? What the heck did you mean by `I'm a girl now'? What's all the better for you?'

'You'll see, Ranma.'

'No. I want to know NOW. What about what you said?'

Ryoga turned his back on her.v

'Things are so much more different around here without you, Ranma. And not only that. Now that you're a girl, people have a different view of you.'

'Yeah, and...?'

'For instance. Shampoo hasn't been around the Tendo Dojo for a while. I think it's due to Cologne telling her that there was no cure for you but the kasuifuu. Ukyo had visited on a regular basis, twice a week or so, for the past year and a half to see if you had come back. Then her business began to boom and since then she had hardly come to the dojo, saying that if she gave up her business then there would be no future for you and her - *if* you got cured and came back, that is.'

'U-Ucchan? She...? No...!' Ranma's mood took a downward plunge. Her childhood friend! Gone! Like the wind between your fingers...Ranma gathered all her courage and asked, 'And Akane? What about her?' , she thought.

'Akane. I don't know, Ranma. It's kinda hard to say anything about her.'

'Ryoga! Tell me!'

'Who has she to turn to now that you're not there for her, Ranma? We both know that she really did love you and, well, I know you also loved her. But how could you just leave Akane like that? Don't you know how terrible it is for me, as P-Chan, to watch her cry? When she came home after going to that college of yours, she grabbed me, as P-Chan, ran to her room and cried her eyes out, saying your name over and over again, hugging me like never before.'

Ryoga turned back and Ranma could see tears in his eyes. 'How could you, Ranma? Why did you?!'

'How, and why, did I do what?', asked Ranma.

Ryoga suddenly stabbed the fence with his umbrella. It exploded outward in a blast of metal links and steel supports, not unlike the effects of the Bakusai Tenketsu. Ranma, unprepared for the sudden and unexpected attack, fell from the fence and crashed into the water below. She broke the surface and shook the water from her eyes and hair. Then she glared up at Ryoga, who was squatting on the edge of the sidewalk and looking down at her.

'Why the hell did you do that?!' , she asked herself.

Ryoga ignored that question. 'Ranma, you ran away and left Akane alone. Let me get straight to the point, because I know that you're dying to know. Who did you think Akane turned to after you left, Ranma?'

'Who?! TELL ME, RYOGA!!' Ranma had her fists clenched so hard that her knuckles were white.

Ryoga stood up. And he folded his arms over his chest. Ranma was bewildered.

Why won't Ryoga tell her? Ryoga's face now had a slightly smug expression on it. Then all the little details and hints suddenly clicked in. The slight differences in Ryoga's appearance. The absence of his backpack and his bandanna. The way he carried himself. Suddenly, it all made sense. Ryoga's words resounded in her mind over and over again.

Who did you think Akane turned to? Who?

Who else?!

Ranma let out an incoherent yell and leapt out of the river. Ryoga didn't even blink. Ranma grabbed Ryoga's shirt and she gave Ryoga the hardest punch she could throw. His head snapped back from the force of the impact, and he grunted in pain. Then Ranma pulled her fist back for another strike but Ryoga grabbed her wrist and immobilized it.

'RYOGA!! YOU - BASTARD! I'M GONNA KILL YOU!!'

'You're not the Ranma I know!' Ryoga said in a mocking tone.

She slowly unclenched her fist and wrenched it from Ryoga's grasp, no easy feat.

She stared up into his eyes and he stared right back, giving no ground nor quarter.

Then she released him with a careless flick of her fingers, a tired and confused expression on her face. How could Akane? How could she? She didn't even tell her who it was...she had to find it out herself, the hard way.

'The Ranma I knew would not have struck anyone in anger.'

'I'll have you know that I almost hit Kentaro in anger, but I held myself back! I haven't changed at all, you jerk!!', she retorted hotly.

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