Blue Sunglasses And Long Cups Of Coffee

Ranma wondered briefly when he’d fallen in love.

Was he in love, for that matter? He wasn’t really sure, to tell the truth. He wasn’t terribly good at very many emotions. A few he could manage quite well, such as confidence, which came to him like wind came to air. Annoyance was awfully easy too. Outrage, yup. Anger – that was a bit more difficult, but still relatively simple.

Love was trickier.

He’d thought he’d had a pretty good handle on friendship. He didn’t understand it in the slightest, but it seemed to work, so he went with it. But then other things kept cropping up, and he wondered if he wasn’t just feeling friendship anymore, but love.

Friendship, or so he’d managed to figure, was, for the most part, feeling happier when certain people were around. Being able to be with them and derive an amount of enjoyment from it. But what about longing for someone’s company when alone? Was it loneliness or something deeper? What about needing someone’s company just in general? That seemed a bit more than friendship. Love? The main problem was, he couldn’t tell who it was he thought he might be starting to fall in love with.

There were many people who he considered friends, to one extent or another; it was most likely one of them. Ukyou. Akane. Ryouga. Nabiki. Kasumi. Even Mousse and Shampoo, sometimes.

He sincerely hoped that it was one of the fiancées that he’d fallen in love with. If he had fallen in love at all, it was still in the air.

He noticed with half a start that he hadn’t removed the two males’ names from the list. It was surprising that he somehow didn’t feel terribly surprised by this. He considered it for a moment. It would be hell on wheels if anyone else found out that he’d fallen in love with a guy, but since it was highly unlikely that either of the two on his list would do anything other than kill him if he breathed a word of it to them, he crossed those names off with pencil.

Then paused, and erased the mental scribble.

He didn’t understand why he was actually taking the thought of being in love with Ryouga – or Mousse – seriously. It was highly unlikely that such was the case.

He wondered if he should take it as an affront to his manliness that he was being accused – even if it was by himself – of being attracted to a guy. He’d always been defensive before.

But no, that was different. That was when he was being called a girl or treated like one simply because he looked like one sometimes. This was a case of inside feelings. He loved whomever he loved as a guy, not as a girl, because when it came down to it he was male. He was pretty certain that nothing had really, fundamentally changed about him when he acquired the curse.

Anyway…

He shook his head to clear it. Gender of the person he may have fallen in love with aside, he needed to figure out who it was. He really hoped it was one of the legitimate fiancées.

He wrote down the names in random order and crossed all of the obviously wrong ones out. Some of them just felt… wrong. Others were possibilities. None of them were certain, which was a shame. The result looked somewhat like this:

Akane
Ukyou
Ryouga
Nabiki
Kasumi
Mousse
Shampoo

After a bit of deliberation he removed Shampoo as well. It surprised him more than anything of who it had come down to…

Then it hit him like a ton of bricks, figuratively speaking of course.

He really, truly couldn’t believe it. But it was really, truly true, he knew without a doubt, as amazing as it seemed. He’d been called thickheaded before, but he honestly hadn’t known that he could think about something for that long and still not get it. He erased the two wrong names and all the crossed out ones, crumpled the paper up and tossed it on the floor.

A ghost of an idea of a half-smile crossed his lips.

Akane…

She wouldn’t be happy. Or maybe she would be.

***

He knew asking the three of them to be in the same room would be like hand-delivering World War Three an engraved invitation to erupt. Not a weapon among them was sheathed. In fact, quite the opposite. They were unsheathed very, very deliberately; bonbouri, spatula, and bare fists that could summon a mallet at a moment’s notice but didn’t need to in general.

The asking why was already over at this point. Ranma had simply refused to answer. He took a deep breath, and with a smile, approached Shampoo.

The violet-haired, violent Amazon’s eyes widened, but it wasn’t from surprise but smug victory. He took the weapons gently away from her and held her hands.

“Shampoo, you are a talented fighter, one of the best I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. And I know this won’t change anything, but I don’t love you, and won’t marry you.” She blinked in surprise, not quite understanding. By the time her eyes opened again, her hands were hanging at her sides and Ranma had turned to Ukyou.

He took the spatula from her hands, or tried to at least. She slid it voluntarily into his harness on her back. He smiled, and took both her hands as well. She wore a totally different expression than Shampoo had.

“Ukyou,” he said to her, “I’ve always considered you one of my best friends, and I hope I’ll always be able to. But I don’t love you any more than that. Friends.”

Her expression didn’t change as he dropped her hands and left, since it had already been set on the one that was appropriate for afterwards. Somehow, she’d known… but she hadn’t expected him to say it quite like this. Anger started to bubble under the surface, but it did so rather half-heartedly.

Akane’s hands were open when he reached her, but other than that she didn’t look any different from normal. The remnants of anger still lingered on her face, and he had a moment of indecision. Then his hands touched hers, and her expression changed entirely. Now it was hopeful, yet uncertain. Certain of him, of course, but uncertain how to react to it. There was an unfamiliar softness in her eyes. He knew that he’d never see that expression again no matter what he said to her.

He took a deep breath, because he wanted to do this right. No hesitation, no pauses.

“Akane, I love you - as my sister, as my friend. I wish we’d never been engaged so young, because I never got to know who you really were. At sixteen, no one’s ready for that sort of thing. And I’m afraid… it was just never meant to be.” He smiled half-heartedly, knowing that it wouldn’t work.

Anger boiled more rapidly and much closer to the surface of Akane Tendo than it did in Ukyou Kuonji or Shampoo, which meant that it exploded at the same time in all of them. Actually, Ukyou had been holding Shampoo back for the few seconds that he had spoken to Akane, but she couldn’t hold her for very long and even that didn’t matter because his last few words were the breaking point. All three of them pounced, only Akane bothering to retrieve a weapon.

Actually, since the two fathers had been listening from around a corner, five attacked Ranma – or rather, the spot where Ranma had been standing a moment before. They all managed to pile out of the house just fast enough for them to hear Ranma’s quick-paced footsteps fade into the distance.

The three females attempted a chase, but while their unity of purpose was solid and concrete-reinforced, their unity in any other sense was nonexistent. The war that had been threatening ever since the three saw the others in the room broke out as what could, literally in a few minutes, be called a catfight in the middle of the street.

***

Ranma’s only thought as he stopped and caught his breath against a wall that bordered a back street that was in a district of Tokyo far removed from Nerima was that it was a shame that it had taken him so long to work up the nerve to do that. A whole month even since that fateful day when his thoughts had finally cleared.

Coming to terms with the idea that he just might, possibly, be in love with Ryouga was part of it, but managing to figure out what to do had not only taken up more thought and time, but also Nabiki’s help. He’d hated that not because of the money she charged – after all, that ensured secrecy at least – but rather because of the knowing looks that she kept giving him. She’d never *said* anything… just dropped little hints. Rather blunt little hints on occasion, though.

He wasn’t sure what to do, but he had a bit of cash in his pockets that Nabiki had let him keep, and he hadn’t really had much at the Tendo’s that he’d hate to leave there. A little later he would have to sneak into his mother’s house and retrieve a few sets of clothing there, but otherwise he didn’t need anything. His general plan was to wander about a bit. Get as far away from Nerima as he could, at least. He could figure out what to do from there.

He still felt bad about just leaving everyone like that. He probably wouldn’t have considered it, except for a few small clues that Nabiki had dropped that let him come to terms with it, even with his overgrown sense of honor that probably would’ve forced him to marry Akane eventually, probably even convinced that it was his own idea.

There was no honor involved on his father’s part, or Soun’s. He was sticking to the agreement mostly out of fear of losing face, Akane out of family loyalty, Ukyou out of an overgrown childhood crush, and Shampoo out of tribal tradition. Even Cologne was just doing what her society demanded of her. Soun and… Genma were not doing it for the good of the family, just the good of themselves, no matter what they forced any of their children to believe. Even Happosai, in his own way, would probably understand. But the two fathers suffered from a serious inability to see past their own noses.

He knew this didn’t quite excuse what he had done, but it at least justified his cancellation of his engagements. Running away was just self-preservation.

But this didn’t occupy his thoughts and he walked, blending in with the crowd of totally unfamiliar people, wonderfully unfamiliar people. Rather, he thought about what to do next…

***

It was a better meeting than Ranma had envisioned, even though it was hardly made-for-the-movies material. Or maybe it was, and he’d been seeing all the wrong movies… that was a joke, he hadn’t seen a movie in years. It was a pretty pathetic joke, but he laughed at it anyway.

Ranma had gotten a job at a small café on the totally opposite side of the city from Nerima. He waited tables, but refused to do so in female form like he had before. He didn’t even tell his employer about his curse, in fact. For the first few days he had slept in various places; sometimes homeless shelters or abandoned buildings but never the same place twice, so he wasn’t remembered. He tried to stay as forgettable as possible… usually he just snuck in and no one noticed him when he arrived or when he left. When his employer found out about that Ranma figured he’d be fired, but instead he’d been given permission to live in the backroom until he’d saved up enough for rent.

It was a rather boring story, actually. Ranma didn’t care to dwell on it, so he didn’t. Anyway, just a week before it happened he’d managed to find a real place to live, a tiny apartment about a mile from the café.

He hadn’t really worried about seeing anyone he knew. He wore his hair loose now, with a slightly different cut not because he was trying to disguise himself but because he had actually gone to a hairstylist when his employer had commented that his hair was getting raggedy-looking. He’d also taken up the habit of wearing small, blue-tinted sunglasses. He wasn’t sure why, but it did get very bright inside during the afternoon because of all the windows.

So when a particularly tired-looking customer stumbled in five minutes after closing one Thursday night, he wasn’t recognized even though Ranma recognized the customer perfectly well. His manager gestured for him to tell Ryouga that they were closed, please go away, but Ranma gestured right back that he would take the responsibility.

He slipped off his nametag – which was deliberately smudged anyway – and walked up to the booth that the lost boy had chosen. He handed Ryouga a menu, since they had already been removed from the tables. He accepted it gratefully.

“You’re closed, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. But you look like you could use something to eat. It’s okay.”

“Thanks. I’ll just have a glass of water, though. And” – he pulled a handful of coins out of his pocket and counted them carefully, checking the result against the menu – “some tea?”

Ranma smiled inwardly, relieved that he hadn’t been recognized. “Gotcha.”

When he reached the kitchen, his employer frowned at him. It took a bit of cajoling, but before Ranma was ready to go back out with Ryouga’s order the boss had left, a little knowing smile visible in his eyes. Not that Ranma had told him anything, but he wasn’t a stupid man. He innocently reminded him that Ranma no longer had a key to the back room as a parting shot and promptly left.

Ranma smiled almost goofily as he put together the tray that contained an awful lot more that a cup of tea and some water, but luckily caught himself before stepping out, resetting his expression to neutrality and adjusting his sunglasses. Even though only darkness streamed in through the front, fully glass wall of the café that kept it bright during the day, they were necessary.

***

Ryouga was thankful. It was late, and most places in this area seemed to be closed, but he was so tired… it was sheer luck that he’d spotted this place, with the door still unlocked and people willing to serve him food even though the sign stated quite clearly that they had closed five minutes before he stepped inside. He’d heard the argument behind the swinging doors of the kitchen, and half-expected to be kicked out when the waiter stepped back through them.

The strangely familiar waiter, although Ryouga figured that by now half the population of Tokyo was familiar to him to one degree or another. He didn’t look up, trying to make the most of the comfortable seat while he could just in case, and so the tray that contained a great deal more than just a cup of water and one of tea surprised him. It hit the table quite heavily.

He looked. Water and tea were there, but they were not even among the starring items. A thick sandwich of what appeared to be chicken was prominent, as was a trio of curry buns and a thin slice of strawberry pie. A small bowl of soup and triangles of a cheese sandwich finished off the smaller items, and a glass of milk was added to the beverages, which included a pot along with the small teacup full.

He looked up in astonishment. The waiter was smiling slightly. “I can’t pay-”

“It’s okay, I said,” he was cut off. “Don’t worry about it. You look starving.”

Ryouga nodded gratefully. “Thank you very much…” he looked for a nametag but couldn’t find one, so trailed off awkwardly. “Err…”

No name was offered, however.

“Eat,” he was ordered. And Ryouga did as he was told. He was vaguely aware of the waiter settling in the opposite side of the booth, but he didn’t pay much attention because he was very hungry and the food really was very good…

Then it was gone. Even the glass of water that he’d left alone at first because there was plenty else to drink but then had anyway, even though it was lukewarm by them. The meal, overall, didn’t quite fill him, but he was… comfortable. Not starving anymore, at least.

When the waiter stood and bent over to pick up the tray, his glasses slipped off. Ryouga beat him to picking the up off the floor and handed them to him, or started to.

Vaguely familiar? Ryouga felt like kicking himself.

***

Ranma prepared himself to bolt when Ryouga’s eyes widened in recognition. There was a flash of what could have been anger but then it faded and a bit of the exhaustion that the food had removed from his expression reappeared, and he slumped back down in his seat.

“Figures I’d run into you here. A little late, though, isn’t it…” He laughed humorously. “So, you’re still alive. And in Tokyo, miracle of miracles.”

Ranma hesitated, then sat back down. “Are you alright?”

“Fine, fine. Y’know, Nabiki told me.”

Ranma’s blood ran cold.

“I didn’t think that what I heard you’d done sounded like you. Then that mercenary girl told me that she’d come up with the plan and everything. ‘Course, that was only when I was asking her for help too. I figured it was a trick, and was really angry with you for a while. Then…” he trailed off.

Ranma relaxed. “Then…”

“I figured out why you’d done it.”

“Huh?”

Ryouga sighed and seemed to give something up. “I dated Akane for a little while. Two weeks, actually. Practically tied myself to her wrist. This was after she beat me into tar for being P-chan, o’course, but three days later when I came back she was fine, asked me out for our first date in fact.”

“…”

“Then she broke up with me.”

“Huh?”

“And I finally figured out what Nabiki had been really trying to tell me when I asked her for help asking Akane out for the first time.”

There was only one other thing Nabiki could have told him. Ranma felt himself stop breathing, and the blood drained from his face. He was almost certain that his heart paused in it’s beating, frozen with the rest of him.

“Then I was really angry with you. Lucky you didn’t run into me then.”

“What…” Ranma forced his automatic functions to resume. “What did you think? Then, I mean.”

He didn’t answer directly, though. “Nabiki slapped me. She was really mad. It was almost frightening. Hell, it was frightening. She’s one scary bitch.” He laughed. “Then I didn’t bother being angry at you anymore. It was really weird. I’ve accomplished what I tried for two years to do, and it ended in disaster. Not to mention it really wasn’t what I had imagined…”

“So…”

“So I was finally free. I wasn’t angry at you anymore. I wasn’t in love with Akane anymore. And I discovered that when those two things were taken away from me, there wasn’t much of anything left. I left, and tried not to come back. It wasn’t an angry breakup, but it wasn’t a happy one either. I looked for you for a while. Looked for something forever. Found my parents, they barely recognized me. Managed to live at home for a few days, all three of us. That was mindless. That was eight days ago. God knows where I’ve been since then. Growing up, I guess.”

“I’ve been doing that too,” Ranma answered quietly. “’Bout time, huh?”

“Yeah.” Ryouga seemed to think for a moment. “Hey, something did bother me. Why didn’t you go back?” he looked around. “You seem to have a pretty permanent setup here, if I’m any judge.”

Ranma shrugged. “I meant to go back. But there just isn’t anything for me there, and I’m doing fine on my own.” He smiled a bit. “I’ve been offered a teaching job” – he didn’t have to say teaching what – “but I actually like doing this, as it turns out. That, and I don’t particularly want to be high-profile anymore. I’ve had enough of that.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ranma saw the clock. “Woah, it’s 1:30 already. We open in six hours. I gotta finish cleaning up the kitchen…”

“You work from open to close?” Ryouga sounded incredulous.

“Nah, just from two on.” He shrugged. “But if it’s dirty when the morning crew arrives…”

Ryouga stood. “Sorry I kept you.” He hesitated, then headed for the door. “’Bye.”

He was almost outside before Ranma called after him. “Hey! D’you need a place to sleep tonight?”

He didn’t answer, but he did turn around and look slightly sheepish.

“I’ve got an spare futon. Rent for it and the other corner of my apartment is, say, the price of that pot of tea. And maybe the chicken sandwich.”

Ryouga nodded. “Deal.”

***

They didn’t arrive Ranma’s tiny, spartan apartment until almost an hour later. The conversation had degenerated into something that would be incoherent to anyone who had actually slept in the past sixteen-plus hours, interspaced with bad jokes and laughter that sounded distressed to passers-by, had there been any. Once at their destination, the second futon was unrolled and placed near the door and then promptly fallen asleep upon. Ranma tread carefully to get his own set up. There wasn’t much space in the single-room apartment (not counting the bathroom that was smaller than most closets), even though the only things in it, really, were an old stove and a small refrigerator on the tiled part and a cheap dresser on the carpeted part, not counting the two futons that he’d found for cheap as a set. He’d wondered why he’d bothered getting two…

He lay down, staring at the ceiling, acutely aware that he was most likely in love with the boy sleeping not ten feet away. Not even eight feet, really. Whatever the distance was, it was far closer than there had ever been a chance of it being before. And so sudden! Not to mention the fact the Ryouga had implied that he knew about Ranma’s feelings, but irritatingly enough hadn’t really given his opinion. He wasn’t going to kill him, though… Ranma supposed this was a good thing.

Ranma tossed and turned, trying to get to sleep, when suddenly a totally unrelated matter popped into his head. Did I lock the door? He tried to reassure himself that he had, but he couldn’t actually remember doing it. Actually, now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure that he hadn’t. He stood, and found his key. Just to check. Not that he was really worried about robbers, since if anyone managed to sneak in stealthily enough not to wake him they’d still trip over Ryouga, but more because he just didn’t want to be interrupted in his sleep.

He leaned over Ryouga carefully, and tested the door handle. It didn’t budge, which made him loose his balance since he had expected it to turn freely, unlocked. He caught himself easily, of course; he had kept practicing. Although falling on top of a defenseless Ryouga was tempting, it was ultimately a bad idea, he knew. Looking down at the innocently sleeping face of the boy that he was 99% certain he was in love with, he decided that if anything was worth doing, it was worth doing all the way. Of course, that promptly gave him many very bad and generally dirty thoughts, but he managed to collect himself.

First, he decided with conviction, I need to figure out if I really do love him. For there was some doubt. He didn’t feel googly eyed over Ryouga, for one thing. He didn’t really feel the need to glomp him, or throw himself unto the other boy, not seriously. There was a physical attraction, certainly, but it wasn’t as strong as the deeper feeling. I just… want his company. It feels better, right somehow. We just… fit well together. That decided, he started to drift off.

But, if I ever know that he won’t kill me when I try, I will glomp him. Just to see what it’s like.

Then he was asleep.

***

“Rise and shi~ine!”

Ryouga grumbled and turned over, pulling his sheet over his head.

“Getup!”

Ryouga reached one hand out to his backpack. Carefully but clumsily he blindly found the umbrella at the top of it and lifted the heavy weapon up, pointing it in the general direction of the overly cheerful Ranma.

The umbrella was kicked gently away. “If you don’t get up, I’ll make pancakes!” Somehow the sentence managed to have a threatening tone.

Huh? He didn’t react to that one. It didn’t make enough sense.

“Ryouga pancakes.” It wasn’t really cheerful, more of a move-it-or-regret-it type of thing.

Oh. “Is there real food to eat?” he asked grumpily, sitting up. He shaded his eyes with one hand against the far-too-bright sunlight streaming in through the window. He looked, squinting, up at Ranma.

Who was, for some inexplicable reason, in girl form. And very little else. Ryouga promptly reburied his head in his pillow.

Ranma looked confusedly at herself. “Oh,” she said. “I forgot.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I did. And because the air conditioner vent drips. Very cold water. You might want to be careful.” There was a rustle of movement. “It’s okay, I’m decent now.”

Ryouga peeked up, and sure enough, Ranma had tightened the bathrobe around her chest. “Thank you,” he grumbled. He stood and stretched. Ranma ducked into the bathroom, presumably to change back, and Ryouga took the opportunity to dress.

Ranma emerged a few moments later, dressed in a pair of loose pants of the type he favored, to find Ryouga critically examining his breakfast. “You don’t like rice?”

“It’s fine. Just not what I expected.”

Ranma shrugged and unfolded a chair and a little table. “It works.”

They sat and ate in silence for a little while. A very little while, because rather soon Ranma spoke up. “So what exactly was it that Nabiki wanted you to know?”

“Huh?” Ryouga looked up. He had to search his memory for the one of saying that to Ranma. Last night was fuzzy, but he did remember the general gist of the story. “Oh, just that you felt trapped by your engagements. She also mentioned that you didn’t really understand what they wanted, and couldn’t really learn to love anyone in that sort of environment.” He said it like he had memorized it out of a book, or from dictation.

“You said there was something she didn’t say, but tried to tell you.”

Ranma was being surprisingly direct. Ryouga had to push to answer this question, and the answer came reluctantly even then. “She did imply that there was someone you… liked, though.” He looked up at Ranma, who just gazed back unreadably. He felt like squirming, but refused. “She sorta… maybe… seemed to think… that it coulda been…” he couldn’t say it. This was too much, too suddenly.

“Huh. She did, did she?” He smiled slightly, and Ryouga relaxed, off the hook. “The girl thinks she’s a psychiatrist. What do you think?”

“Probably…” he searched for a suitable answer. “I think she’s right more than she’s wrong but she’s still wrong sometimes.”

“Sometimes.”

There was another short stretch of silence.

“Ranma, do you… are you… I mean…” he trailed off hopelessly. He wanted to say it, but just… couldn’t as if there was a block on his speech preventing him from speaking some concepts aloud.

“Maybe. You?” Ranma answered, almost jauntily.

“…” Ryouga thought. He could think about it well enough. “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully.

“Okay. Cool.”

They ate breakfast for a little while longer. Ryouga glanced at the clock. It was about eleven. He stood uncertainly. “I guess I should get going now…”

“You don’t have to, but if you really want to you can.”

Ryouga hesitated, wavering with indecision halfway between Ranma and the door.

“Just give me a chance. I can actually be an okay guy,” Ranma continued after an uncertain silence.

Ryouga thought for a moment, then sat back down. “It’s better than being lost,” he announced. “And if you get too annoying I’ll let you know, don’t worry.”

Ranma carefully didn’t smile in relief. He just nodded.

“Besides, if you get too fresh I’ll make you sleep in the bathroom.”

Ranma was thankful, later, that rice was relatively easy to cough up when you choked on it.

***

Ranma’s boss, as well as the rest of the staff of the café and most of their customers, noticed that Ranma seemed a bit distracted that day. His attention definitely wandered more than usual.

Yuriko Kirasi, one of his regulars, definitely noticed. She felt somehow better, watching him stare blankly at a wall, a smile trying to form on his lips. She’d known something was up with him. It made sense, then, what had fixed it.

“What’s her name?” she asked, innocently, when he finally came to take her order.

“Huh?” he seemed to snap out of a trance. “Who?”

“Your new girlfriend.”

He didn’t seem to understand for a moment. “I, uh, don’t have one.”

She frowned. “Why haven’t you asked her out?”

He seemed amused, somehow, by this. “There is no ‘her’ to ask out.” He pushed his sunglasses back up his nose.

This stumped her. “You’re a confusing kid.”

“You’re telling me. So, will it be the usual?”

“... yes."

After staring confusedly after the blue-bespectacled boy for a few moments, an almost visible lightbulb flashed over her head. She felt like slapping her forehead and exclaiming “Duh!” but restrained herself. It wasn’t appropriate behavior for someone of her age. At fifty she could be excused for not thinking *that*, right?

She looked thoughtfully after her waiter. Judging by the somewhat depressed look he now wore, Ranma - he still politely refused to give his last name - was having more problems than he let on.

***

~Mordain

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