Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Distance ❯ Chapter 23 ( Chapter 23 )

Dinner was… awkward. Yes, awkward would be the best way Ranma could describe it.

Firstly, Ryouga and Akari spent the entire time glancing nervously around as though someone was going to kick them out, and with good reason. They were the most casually dressed - Ryouga in a black mandarin-collar shirt that looked like it was straight out of Ranma's high school closet, and Akari in a light blue sundress suited more for the beach than a French restaurant. They looked mismatched and out of place, and the hostess did not seem inclined to let them in at first. Nabiki stared the woman down until she was forced to relent - mostly, it was Akane's clenched and unclenched fists behind Nabiki that did her in.

After that, the staff went bug-eyed and twitchy, and seemed to want to serve them as fast as possible. Kasumi and Ono seemed confused as to why the waiters refused to let them finish speaking before trying to rush off, and Akane was visibly exasperated with the whole thing. Nabiki and Makoto got tipsy off of the House Wine, and all of Chez Blanc, in its tacky velvet crimson and silk white glory, was treated to their drunken renditions of “Love Panic” and other pop songs from the earlier nineties. Toya alternated between trying to get them to shut up, and trying to pry Nabiki's wandering hands off of his butt, which was quite a feat for her considering that he was sitting down.

Ranma, for his part, spent the entire evening pointedly ignoring Takahiro, and regaling the table with tales of his great martial feats - some of them toned down for the other diners in the crowded French-imitation restaurant. Ryouga would chime in every so often, and as the evening wore on, “awkward,” though being the only way to describe the whole affair, suited Ranma just fine.

Takahiro looked less-than-pleased as they left the restaurant. Ranma did not have to wonder why; three times, Nabiki accidentally spilled her wine on him, and twice, one of the waiters tripped and dropped a tray on him. Needless to say, his fancy, hideous shimmery suit was ruined, and Ranma had perfected the Saotome Art of Anything Goes Table and Waiter Manipulation - which was a fancy way of saying he bumped the table at key moments and stuck his foot out when a waiter walked by.

All in all, he felt as though a little justice had been done, and his ego was repaired slightly.

And it was made all the more sweet when the entire party had to wait as Akane and Takahiro got into an argument right outside the restaurant. “Oh, jeez, I just wanna get home…” Makoto mumbled, already looking slightly hung over. Everyone but Toya, Ryouga and Ranma got into the waiting limo as it hummed in the street: Toya because he was trying to keep Nabiki from getting back out and yelling at Takahiro for being embarrassing, Ryouga because he couldn't get in with Toya and Nabiki in the way, and Ranma because he wanted to watch.

Ranma remembered his and Akane's arguments, and they were nothing like this. This made them look tame, but neither Akane nor Takahiro was yelling.

No, it was an argument of tightly-spoken words, and small, furious hand-gestures. Takahiro, standing in his ruined suit, a piece of crab-cake sticking out of the pocket, was rudely-waving his hands in Akane's face. Akane was taking small steps back from his furious gaze, glaring at him like she didn't know him. Ranma couldn't hear what they were saying - they were too quiet over the engine of the limo - but he knew these were not hotheaded teenagers arguing about stupid comments like “gorilla” or “uncute” or “pervert.” This was a make or break fight.

“Ranma, c'n you pleashe tell m'boyfriend to lemm'out uh th'limo sho I c'n slap Ta… Taka… Buttfashce?” Nabiki slurred.

Ranma would have liked nothing more, but it wasn't his place to let anyone interfere. “I think Akane can take care of herself, Nabs.”

“Damn, you're wasted…” Ryouga mumbled sourly - he hadn't touched a drop of alcohol the whole evening, and no one was grumpier than a sober person around someone who was drunk. No one, except Nabiki around sober people when she was drunk.

“Fug tha'd guy,” she muttered prosaically.

“Yep, fuggim.” Ranma agreed.

“Look, Ranma, if we go, can you get Akane home? I think `Nabs' needs to go to sleep.” Toya placed a hand on Ranma's shoulder, and Ranma looked back at him briefly and nodded.

“Yeah, no problem. She…” Ranma chuckled a little in spite of everything as he peered around Toya's hip to see Nabiki collapse on an already passed-out Makoto, a noise like a buzz-saw coming from her lips, “she passed out, Toya, get her home.” Toya looked back at his unconscious girlfriend and rolled his eyes, slipping carefully in behind her. Ryouga put his hand on Ranma's shoulder and narrowed his eyes.

“Ranma, don't ruin her happiness for yours.” He said quietly.

“Ryouga, I already told `er - anything that happens between her an' Buttface ain't got nothin' to do with me an' her.” Ranma said with a straight face.

Ryouga smirked. “I'm rooting for you… for once.” And then he got in the limo and the door slammed shut.

As it sped off, the noise coming out of Takahiro's mouth started to resemble words.

“… actically all over him!”

“This again?” Akane sounded bored. She rolled her eyes and looked away from him, towards Ranma. Ranma looked her in the eyes, but kept his expression neutral. He was only about ten feet from them, standing at the end of the covered walkway into the restaurant, which had closed twenty minutes ago.

Them being closed didn't stop the staff from glancing, half in interest, half in worry, at the arguing couple.

“What do you mean `this again?'” Takahiro was hissing.

Akane turned back to look at him, glaring. “Takahiro, you smell like wine, and you're being paranoid,” her expression softened, “I thought you trusted me?”

“It's that asshole I don't trust,” Takahiro pointed at Ranma, and Ranma narrowed his eyes, but kept his mouth shut. It wasn't his business, it wasn't his business…

“Hey, he's my friend, and he needed my help, Takahiro,” Akane's eyes narrowed, “I didn't say anything when Megumi was staying with you.”

Takahiro sputtered for a moment. “Th-that was totally different! Megumi and I were never engaged!” His voice was slowly raising, and Ranma could see Takahiro's temper as it spiraled out of control.

A little thing like a ruined six-thousand yen suit got him this worked up?

Akane looked calm by comparison, even though all of her words were spat out like burnt rice. “Excuse me? His dog died, his boss was practically beaten to death as well, and his apartment was ruined - Me-gu-mi,” she said the name like it was a curse, “didn't even need to stay with you! She had a boyfriend!”

“Nuh-uh, they broke up!”

“Oh, and why's that, maybe because you screwed her!?”

This was not going well for Takahiro. His face turned bright red, his eyes narrowed into slits. Ranma was ten feet away, but he saw the twitch in Takahiro's arm even under the damp suit sleeve, saw the subtle tightening of his fingers as he prepared to slap Akane across the face. Ranma was wearing uncomfortable dress shoes and unfamiliar clothes, but he still moved like a panther.

He needn't have bothered. As Takahiro brought his hand up, Akane reacted with finely-honed reflexes. Takahiro was slightly tipsy, angry, and stupid, and his art was Capoeira, the art of trickery and the feint. Akane was the art of Making Human Pretzels. She reached up and grabbed his hand, holding it as though Takahiro had punched wet cement and then waited a week while it dried.

Takahiro looked quite surprised when his slap didn't connect. Ranma, himself, often underestimated Akane. She had, when they were teenagers, let him do all the fighting. But this was a mistake, obviously, one that Takahiro was sure to regret. Ranma eagerly watched the events unfold, sure that Akane was going to beat Takahiro into something resembling the steak tartar from dinner.

She surprised him.

Akane kept her grip on his hand, staring into his face. “`When anger rises, think of the consequences,'” Ranma was unaware Akane studied Confucius, “a martial artist never strikes out in anger. Hold out your hand.” She released his hand and Ranma stopped running about two feet from them, tense and ready for a fight.

He thought it was prudent not to exemplify the irony of her last statement…

Takahiro stepped back, held out his hand, palm up. He stared Akane down firmly. With ease, Akane reached down and slipped off her engagement ring, then put it in his hand, closing the fingers around it. “You just gave up the best thing that ever happened to you.” Takahiro said angrily, before storming off, whipping a cell phone out of his pocket. He started barking orders to someone rapid-fire, but Ranma wasn't listening to him.

Standing there, illuminated by the lights from the restaurant, Akane did not look like someone who had just broken up with her fiancée. She looked angry, but radiating from her was a steady thrum of energy held easily in check - she didn't quake, her hands didn't clench, and her stance was relaxed. As if she'd made a decision she was comfortable with.

Ranma took all this in, giving her space, desperate to telegraph what she was going to do, or say. Slowly, she turned to face him, cocking her head to the side. “Are you going to walk me home, or what?” Ranma had to fight to keep a grin from splitting his face. He held out his arm, hesitantly, like she might bite it off. Akane walked over and linked her arm around his.

“It's gonna be a long walk - y'sure you don' wanna take a bus or call a cab? I can pay for it.” Ranma said softly as they headed off in the direction of her home.

Akane shook her head, smiling a little sadly. “I need to think. Do you mind?”

“Nope.” He smiled down at her, and put his hand over her arm linked through his. She tensed, and he yanked his hand away, and she looked up at him sympathetically, tears in her eyes. “Don' worry about it.” He said before she could apologize. “You jus' do yer thinkin', I'll take care of the walkin'.” And then he let her go, and knelt and held his hands out behind him.

“Ranma— you're such a nut.” She sniffled and took off her strappy shoes before climbing onto his back. Ranma's hands burned as he put them against her long smooth thighs, gripping his waist like pythons. He actually had to pause for a minute. Having her pressed so close against him, her breasts flattened against his back, her legs and arms tangled around him, did things to him that he hadn't felt in a while.

“Um… you good to go?” he asked, his voice cracking a little.

Akane sniffled, and her tears were wet against the back of his neck. “Y-yeah.” He started walking, trying not to enjoy the feelings she was stirring in him too much, trying to remember that she just broke up with her fiancée. She was vulnerable, likely to make a stupid decision with him around - he had no illusions about the concept of a “rebound.” He did not want that for either of them. But Akane was a smart girl, no matter what he'd said about her in the past.

He just hoped she was smart enough for the both of them.