Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Distance ❯ Chapter 25 ( Chapter 25 )

Akane had a comfortable couch. Ranma was sleeping deeper than he had in a long time. He dreamed of nothing and swam through warm blackness. And then he was awakened, rudely, by someone approaching him. He tumbled onto the floor, years of his father's snoring and his midnight wake-up calls for “training” had honed his awareness until it was sharper than a blade. Crouching like an angry wolf, he tried to regain full consciousness and assess the situation.

Someone stood over him, holding something. It flashed in the early-morning light filtering in through the thick curtains, flashed white and metallic. Ranma rolled into his attacker's legs without a second thought; a sword was nothing to take lightly when he was tired, unarmed, and only in his boxer shorts for “protection.”

His attacker shouted in surprise and tumbled to the floor like a stone. Ranma rolled back up to a crouch, ready for the next attack.

It never came. The intruder groaned and the noise sounded distinctly feminine. “Fuck, Ranma, jeez…” Confused, Ranma paused, muscles still tensed to attack. His attacker slowly regained their footing, wincing audibly, and then the scene rearranged itself clearly in the sunlight and Ranma felt like a complete idiot.

Makoto got to her feet, placing the end of her “blade” against the floor and using it for leverage to stand up. The blade was some sort of pole with a hook on the end. “Wha… what the fuck are you doing, Makoto?” Ranma squeaked out, standing slowly from his crouch.

“I was trying to - ow that smarts - I was trying to pull the curtains down, you idiot!” She held up the pole; it was the length of one of her legs, and wasn't even remotely sharp. Glaring at him, she turned and half-limped closer to the couch, reaching up with the pole to the curtain rod and hooking the crooked end of it around the curtain rod. And then she lifted up and around, bringing the curtain rod and curtains down. “They need to get washed, you… you freak.” She muttered, glaring at him again.

Ranma flushed. “I'm really, really sorry, Makoto,” he bowed jerkily, “are you hurt?”

Her anger seemed to deflate. “Yeah, yeah, I'm fine,” she mumbled something about “martial artists” and “stupid-ass,” but not necessarily in that order, and then grabbed the curtain rod and headed back to her room.

Akane snickered from somewhere, and Ranma looked over to see her standing in her doorway. He stuck his tongue out at her and self-consciously put his hands over his crotch. “I thought you'd have gotten over that kind of stuff after not being on the road for a while.” She said with humor.

He shrugged. “It never really went away, I guess - Kaibutsu would wake me up a lot, and sometimes pops would screw with me when I went back home in summer.” He walked over to the sofa and rearranged the blanket and pillow there so that they were sitting neatly at one end.

“Well, that was a good way to wake up - with you acting like a dork.” She stepped out of her room and stretched, her pajama top coming up a little to reveal her taut stomach. Makoto came back out of her room with a laundry hamper.

“Akane, I'm gonna go take the laundry over, and then go get some breakfast with Nabiki and Toya - do you and Ranma want to come?” she asked as she headed for the door, wearing pajama pants under her Hello Kitty nightgown.

Akane smiled at him, and Ranma nodded. “Yeah, sure… but then I better get over to Kasumi's.” Akane bit her lip and nodded, then turned and went back into her room, shutting the door.

“Nice, Romeo…” Makoto muttered sarcastically before leaving the apartment. The door shut hard enough behind her to make him jump, and Ranma sighed and rubbed his face with his hands.

Afterwards, he groaned, realizing all he had for clothes was Ono's suit, but if he didn't go out to breakfast, how hurt was Akane going to be. He scrubbed his hair in frustration: things got so complicated sometimes…

Akane came out of her room in a yellow sundress, running a brush rapidly through her hair. She flushed when she saw that Ranma was still in his boxers, staring morosely at Ono's suit, draped over the arm of the couch. “Oh, yeah, all your clothes are at Kasumi's, huh?” Ranma nodded. “Well, that's ok, maybe you can come next time.” She said brusquely, moving past him and into the kitchen.

Ranma watched as she moved around, getting things out to make tea. Her movements were sharp and jerky, classic Angry Akane posture. “Hey, what's wrong?” Ranma asked quietly.

“Nothing, nothing,” she said quickly, slamming the teapot down on the stove hard enough to make the range rattle, “nothing's wrong.”

Ranma raised an eyebrow and, momentarily forgetting his complete lack of pants or a shirt, walked over to the counter and leaned against it. “What is it?” the tile was cool against his forearms.

Akane stood with her back to him, her shoulder blades sticking out from the straps of her sundress as she gripped the edge of the opposite counter. “Did… you make Takahiro angry on purpose?” she asked quietly.

Ranma's breath hitched, but he forced himself to remain calm. “Akane, I…” he trailed off, and she whirled on him, tears in her eyes. “What's with you all uh the sudden - first y'like wakin' up with me in the house, now you hate me?” he glared at her, feeling a little hurt. So he'd teased Takahiro? It wasn't like he'd poisoned him.

Akane seemed to want to stay angry; her mouth worked for words, and her face was red. But then her face crumpled, and the tears spilled out and she turned away again. “I'm sorry - I'm sorry, I'm just… I'm confused and hurt and… and…” she choked out a sob, and Ranma vaulted over the island, ducking his head to avoid the cabinets above it. He gathered her into a hug, careful to keep his boxer-clad lower body away from her as he crooked his chin over her shoulder.

“I'm sorry I got `im all worked-up,” he said softly, his heart breaking as he felt her body quaking with sobs over some murderer, “but I'm really mad at him, too, ya' know. I needed a little payback for…” he trailed off, still unwilling to outright say it. He was terrified she would call him a liar. “You can't have love without trust:” his own words echoed back at him like a curse.

“It's okay, I know you weren't trying to break us up,” she whimpered, “you couldn't have done much more damage than he did already himself.” She turned in his arms and wrapped her own around his waist for a minute before pulling away and smiled up at him. “I should probably talk to him, huh?”

Ranma winced. “I don't wanna give no opinion on that.” He pulled away - her bare arms on his waist made him twitchy in a not-so-appropriate way. “I better get goin'; you gonna be okay? I can come back tonight, if y'wanna talk.”

Akane smiled through her still-flowing tears. “That's okay; let me know if you need any help, you know, finding a new apartment or something.” He stepped away from her further, backing out of the kitchen slowly. She watched him go, and every part of him screamed to run back to her and wrap her in his arms. Akane was crying, she needed him, Ranma was sure of it.

And then Makoto came back into the apartment, and the moment for action was broken. Ranma grabbed Ono's suit and dressed in the pants and shirt in the bathroom, heart pounding, chest heaving with the effort of not acting on his impulses.