Hangovers, morning nausea, and back pain would never bother Orryn Vanadar, even if he made it to 4,000 years of age. Just a few of the many perks that came with being a chosen of the maidens of fate. However, the indignities of public travel would remain constant. Even if he was promoted to a lofty position within the Bureau of Fate, Sidereals were the only agents who could handle certain field assignments and he’d be expected to suffer down in the trenches with the rest of humanity.
And, of course, he’d still like to vacation from time to time. The inn he’d chosen was supposed to have spacious, luxurious rooms for wealthy visiting merchants, vacationing Dynasts, and traveling dignitaries. Then a Lunar Anathema was spotted in the port, martial law was declared, and dozens of residents were kicked out of their private residences while the Wyld Hunt performed a thorough search of everyones’ homes.
So now Orryn was in the middle of an enormous bed that he had to share with at least six couples — not even in the fun way — and he wasn’t allowed to leave without the risk of getting arrested. Of course he could spend a little essence and bypass all of that, but — and he needed to stress this — he was on vacation. He shouldn’t have to put up with these petty inconveniences.
He sighed and carefully extricated himself from the tangled pile of sheets in a half-hearted attempt not to disturb the other guests and gathered his things. One good thing did happen last night: he had a dream.
Sidereal Exalted were the chosen of the maidens of fate, and as such it would be the height of hubristic ignorance to ignore the precognitive messages in dreams. Taking out a heavily encrypted dream journal at the room’s desk, he recorded symbols from last night’s dream.
An arrival of grand import, the number seven, the dead of night, the rising sun, a lost child, yellow and black, a boar, a cat. The smell of the open sea, the sound of sails, a volcano in the distance. Somehow he knew these details were important, and the unfortunate reality is that he might not realize how they all came into play until after the events they heralded occurred.
Glancing outside, he saw the early morning light of pre-dawn and decided he didn’t need any more sleep. He slipped into his robes, tied his belt, and left through the window. With a thought he dismissed the “naive tourist” destiny and tumbled from the memories of everyone he’d spoken to yesterday. Today was a new day and soon he’d meet his best friend’s successor. Despite only being on vacation for a day he was ready for the hunt to be over.
You’d better not disappoint me, Ryoga Hibiki.
----------------------------------------
Dawn’s light glittered across the waves by the time everyone was fully recovered from their brief journey through nonexistence, and with it all of the frustration and aggression they’d been experiencing in the chaotic melee in the Kunos’ underground training center. This time they were united against Hadrak, the reason they were, on a deserted island in the middle of the ocean.
Hadrak hummed quietly to itself as the seven human children yelled at it. It could handle a few tantrums now that it was home. Almost home, anyway, home enough that they couldn’t stop it from coming back even if they killed it. Hadrak was (technically) a god: they couldn’t kill it in any way that mattered.
It longed to return to the Loom of Fate this very instant. If it only had enough essence! Sadly, the martial artists only produced a radiant font of power as they fought: it would have to wait a few hours on the tiny island, barely more than a grassy, crescent-shaped hill jutting out of the water dotted with a handful of scrawny bushes and pale rocks.
Ukyo pinched the bridge of her nose, cursing that she’d been so reckless. She knew Akane hadn’t intentionally tricked her or anything like that — if she had Ukyo was certain she would have made sure not to get caught in her own trap with Ranma — but it was hard to forgive herself for trusting her rival so quickly. The only comfort was that Shampoo was acting cold to Ranma, something she never did, so whatever Akane said was going on between them was probably the truth.
Because she wasn’t yelling she also noticed that the spider thing was relaxed and unbothered, even with the majority of the strongest fighters in Japan all collectively ready to tear it a new spinnerette. When they were still in Tokyo the thing had run and hidden from them, being on its home turf clearly gave it some sort of advantage.
With a frustrated shout, she drew her oversized okonomiyaki spatula and crashed it against one of the pillars, and the explosive sound that rang out arrested her companions’ attention. “Oy! Calm the hell down! Yer all talkin’ over one another an’ this stupid bug is laughin’ at us!”
As if helping her make her point, Hadrak chuckled. It was a condescending sound, full of braggadocio. When it finished it brushed one of its forelimbs under some of its eyes in mimicry of wiping away tears. “Oh no, I’m not laughing at you. I am legitimately sorry for your misfortune, though I don’t regret my actions. You were all caught up in events written into the destiny of your world before you were born.”
Ranma shook her head. “Bullshit, ain’t no fate dictating our lives. Some of us (specifically me) have killed gods.”
Shampoo rolled her eyes and muttered, “Hardly a single god.”
Ranma continued as if she hadn’t heard the Chinese warrior woman. “You brought us here and you’re gonna send us back!” A chorus of murmured assent followed her pronouncement.
The spider made a motion that looked like a shrug. “Well I certainly brought you here, I won’t deny that. Unfortunately, I do not know how to send you home. The ritual was specifically a one-way emergency...ejection?”
It was Ryoga’s turn to interrupt with an outburst of anger. “No! You told me you had answers, it’s time to deliver! How do we get home!?”
Hadrak finally seemed a little contrite, and skittered up the pillar closest to the lost boy so that it could address him at eye level. “Inheritor, I both grieve and celebrate your lot. Like the rest of them you have been pulled from your home, from those you love, from the life you knew. Unlike them you have been chosen for glorious purpose! Rejoice! Nothing in your world can compare to what awaits you here.”
Nobody responded. Nobody was sure how to respond.
Tatewaki Kuno didn’t understand what was going on. Granted, none of the Japanese (and one Chinese) teens really understood what was going on, Tatewaki even less so. He did understand a few things:
One, his beloved Akane Tendo and the pigtailed girl (he really needed to figure out her name) were upset. Two, this crystal clockwork spider thing was responsible somehow. Three, nobody knew how to get home (he’d see about commissioning a local yacht captain to take them home once they figured out where they were). Four, the spider thing knew where they were and was refusing to cooperate.
There was really only one solution that would satisfy everyone’s needs.
“You! Golden pest!” The finish on his bokken gleamed in the morning sunlight.
“My name is Hadrak Ra—” the pattern spider tried to interject.
“Relinquish the knowledge that mine compatriots demand and I will stay my blade! Refuse again and thy shall spend the last seconds of thine life wishing thou had not spurned the Zeal of Nerima!” He raised his bokken skyward just as the volcano in the distance rumbled.
Ryoga shouted before Hadrak could respond. “Nobody’s killing anything, you wannabe samurai!”
Hadrak would have rolled its eyes were they capable of such a function. It ignored Ryoga’s pronouncement and responded directly to Kuno. “Ohhh, you’ll ‘stay thy blade if I bow and scrape to your glory’, will you? You are nothing here, mortal! Your threat means nothing to me, and you will respect—”
Whatever Hadrak wanted Kuno to respect would forever be a mystery, as Tatewaki made good on his threat and slashed the wooden practice sword through the spider and the pillar to which it clung. The stone pillar shattered and Hadrak fell into two separate pieces that quickly sublimated into nothingness.
Ryoga immediately fell upon Tatewaki in a rage. “You idiot! I needed that thing to give me answers!”
“Scurrilous cur! It had no intention of answering our questions! We’ll be better off searching for answers ourselves!” Tatewaki blocked what he could with his wooden sword (Ranma was impressed it held up against Ryoga’s strikes) and struck back to keep the feral lost boy away.
The two collapsed into a brawl and started rolling down the hill while the rest of the Earthlings watched. Ranma sighed and sauntered after them. The island was small and the altar was only about 15 meters away from the beach. Ranma knew Ryoga needed to come clean to Akane about his curse but this was not the time to reveal that secret.
Before the two ended up in the surf, she gave Kuno a hearty kick and sent the pair flying back up the hill. They landed in a tangled heap in front of Akane and Ukyo, who pulled the two apart before they could resume their brawl.
“Calm the hell down, you two!” Ranma began stomping back to the group. “Look, we’re in a crappy situation and we can’t lose our heads! We don’t even know if we’re in Japan anymore. Or in the 20th century. Or on Earth!”
Ryoga’s pained expression was obvious to Ranma, who’d known him the longest. She felt a pang of guilt interfering like this but they were officially in a survival situation until they found shelter. Ryoga’s tent could fit all seven of them but it’d be a tight squeeze and—
Oh. Oh gods. Everybody Ranma was stuck here with was one of her rivals, fiancées, suitors, or some weird combination of the three, and all of them had reason to distrust or at least dislike one another. Should she trying swimming over to that volcano in the distance by herself to give the other six members of their party a chance to interact without her around or would that just make things worse?
“I’m gonna do a lap around the island, see what we’re workin’ with.” She needed a minute to think, maybe she’d find something useful.
----------------------------------------
Akane could tell Ranma was stressed. Well, they were all stressed. Probably. The Kunos might not understand what was going on well enough yet to be stressed. But specifically she could tell that Ranma was starting to be affected by the stress. Her gender-bending fiancé(e) had been introspective and moody since their failed attempt at a wedding and suddenly getting transported to an unknown island (she could not consider Ranma’s suggestions that they had traveled through time or space, that would be too much right now) with five of the people who’d made both of their lives hell for the past two years couldn’t have helped.
To distract herself, Akane gathered her strength. “Okay, I know all of us have a reason to distrust one another but Ranma’s right: we’re in a bad place and need to work together, at least until we’re safely on the way home. Can we all agree on that?” As expected, she mostly got a lot of glares, especially from Kodachi and Shampoo.
“Tendo’s right, we gotta come up with a plan, least while we’re on this island.” Ukyo made a show of looking around. “I dunno ‘bout y’all but I can’t see hide nor hair of an inn or hotel or nothin’. Means we gotta pitch a tent and find a way to make a signal.”
“Ryoga, do you have campfire supplies?” Akane tried to get the boy engaged and focused on something other than his unanswered questions or kicking Tatewaki in the face and body.
While still brooding, he nodded. “I was prepared for a week-long journey before my supplies ran out. I never realized your house was so close to mine.”
Not that she needed an excuse to be mad at Tatewaki, but Akane wished the spider was able to answer how it pulled that off.
----------------------------------------
On her third lap around the island — and well past the point where everybody realized she was just doing it to keep her mind occupied — Ranma finally noticed something. Part of the hill near one of the ends of the island was just a little too perfect. She halted her jog, winced at the pain in her chest, and stared. Was there something there?
The area seemed normal. Dirt and sand piled up from the shoreline, above that was beach grass, then above that was thicker wild grass. Something about the grass was bothering her though, and she couldn’t place it.
Crawling up the hill on her hands she poked at the grass. At first nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so she shrugged and began to walk away when she felt the ground give ever so slightly beneath her weight. She froze mid stride and started to bounce. Then she winced, held her arm over her chest and resumed.
There it was! The grass was covering something that sprang back, and as she inspected the area she noticed an almost imperceptible, perfectly straight line in the turf. She traced it with her fingertips and when she got to the bottom she dug her fingers into the dirt and pulled up.
With a groan the secret door she’d discovered swung open and the salty, musty smell of the hidden compartment washed over her. It wasn’t a large compartment, only two and a half to three meters deep and barely one across, but it was dug into the hill. Barrels, crates, and loose gold and silver sculptures, bottles, decorative swords, spears, bows, and other pre-Industrial weapons, statues, and other treasures filled the space.
Ranma knew what this was: it was a pirate cache. When she and her father made the swim from Japan to China almost four years ago they’d seen a few of these, though never so loaded.
“Guys!” She cried, grabbing a pole resting just inside the trap door to prop it open. “I found something!” She began taking inventory of the space before Ukyo, Shampoo, and Tatewaki came into view. Ukyo’s eyes went wide when she saw the loot, Shampoo grit her teeth, and Tatewaki didn’t seem affected at all.
“Well! I s’pose no matter where we are, we'll be able to afford a few things.” Ukyo lacked Nabiki Tendo’s fine eye for appraisal but this had to be millions of yen worth of treasure. “Musta been mighty well-hid if’n it took ya’ three go-rounds to notice it, Ranchan.”
Her childhood friend was quiet as she kept digging through stacks of fine chinese ceramics, elaborate candlesticks, and detailed busts of important-looking figures. “No, this stuff is worthless.” Ranma replied, frowning. “Or more specifically, it’s hot.”
Kuno looked puzzled. “Surely it’s quite cool in there, the sun’s barely been up for two hours.”
“Hot like it’s stolen merchandise, dummy.” She shook her head. “There aren’t any coins or gems, everything looks one-of-a-kind, nothing’s generic.”
Kuno grabbed a tanto from a beautiful-looking daisho and unsheathed it, noting the terrible balance and dull edge.
“The weapons are either purely for show or fragile.” Ranma confirmed.
“And it hasn’t been here very long,” Shampoo continued. “Not much dust, few cobwebs. Maybe within the last month?”
Ranma considered Shampoo’s words, then the two said, almost simultaneously, “They’ll be back soon.”
Ukyo felt her face get hot as the two laughed together. Seeing Ranma get along with Akane was increasingly normal, and it was something the okonomiyaki chef learned to accept. But Ranma getting along with the Chinese warrior woman bothered her.
In any other relationship that would be a sign that she and Shampoo were both “second place” in the game to win Ranma’s heart, but she also knew that Ranma still acted like a schoolboy with a crush regarding Akane, which meant that he was incapable of actually acting on it.
And besides, Ukyo couldn’t stand the idea of being third. “How soon you thinkin’, Ranchan?” She asked after Ranma and Shampoo’s laughter began to fade, keeping her voice even, composed, and friendly. Her smile wasn’t the scheming smirk of a manipulator but the easy-going grin of an old friend.
Unfortunately, Ranma didn’t have an answer. “Can’t say. We never actually ran inta’ pirates and the caches pops and I made were more like go-bags than…loot.”
Tatewaki was beginning to understand the situation they found themselves in. As a student of history he recognized the shape of this hidden vault. The likely stolen panoply of plunder, the pigtailed and purple-haired girls’ speculation, and the fact that there wasn’t a hint of plastic, rubber, or synthetic material anywhere to be seen painted a picture that was too clear not to see.
“We are in greater peril than I realized. We must return to the others and apprise them of the situation!” He pontificated and began rushing along the beach.
----------------------------------------
Captain Ikka breathed deep of the sea air and soaked up the midday sun as she watched two of her crew wrestle on the deck of The Mustang. Raucous cheers and jeers from the rest of the crew who had circled around the pair motivated them to drag out the good-natured — but very serious — brawl for the sake of entertainment. And Captain Ikka was grateful to them: sailing could be tedious sometimes.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
The Mustang was her pride and joy. She’d been its captain for 22 years and it was her home, moreso than that godsforsaken rice farm she grew up on, her crew more her family than her parents and siblings. She liked to think her mother would be proud of what she’d accomplished, even if it had been built on theft and no small amount of violence.
Despite bad memories of the place, she still wore a sedge hat to protect her eyes and face from the sun. Dark, though increasingly silver, navy hair, coiled into a braid that went down to her shoulder blades, spilled out over her plain, off-white shirt. Her sleeves were currently rolled up, to ensure she could get hands on if necessary. A scimitar rested within arms’ reach as she leaned against a barrel.
The crowd cheered as one of the fighters, a compact, hirsute, broad-shouldered, sandy-skinned brick of a man named Whooping Ram, gripped his opponent and drove her into the mizzen-mast with a thud and a wet gasp. Rosseiu was taller than Whoop and her long, wiry limbs were fantastic for navigating the ship’s rigging, but less useful for breaking the vice-like grapple she was caught in.
She was tenacious though, Ikka had to give her that. Demonstrating hidden reserves of strength, stamina, and body control she grabbed some of the woolding above her, hoisted the pair up off the deck, and pushed them away from the mast. Whoop twisted in mid-air as they fell and slammed the taller woman into the wood, pinning her.
“Are we done now?” He growled through a toothy grin. “No more takin’ the last of tha bread at meals?”
Rosseiu winced in pain and rolled her eyes. “Aye you damned badger, I swear it.”
Whoop helped her to her feet as the crowd began to return to their duties, congratulating Whoop on his victory. Ikka grabbed Rosseiu before she could limp back to her station. “Pack it in girl, yer no good to anyone with a bruised rib.”
Despite the Captain standing a full head and a half shorter than the blue-haired woman Rosseiu froze from the command. “Nah, cap’n! It was jus’ a little tussle, nothin’ ta’ worry abou—AUGH!”
Ikka reached out and softly jabbed her in the ribs, which was enough to make the headstrong sailor double over as tears welled up in her eyes. “No. It’s bed rest for you, Rosy. Get yer ass into one a’ the cots, don’ let me catch you in a hammock. I’ll get Doc Jara for ya.”
The captain “coddled” everyone like this, but that didn’t stop Rosseiu from mumbling as she obeyed and slunk below deck. Indeed, as soon as she was out of Ikka’s line of sight the captain made her way to Whoop before he could start climbing the mainmast.
“Whoop!” She barked, making him swivel as he was getting ready to hop. “Pickin’ fights with a sailor 15 years yer junior doesn’t seem smart.” He was probably fine, but she saw him take a few good hits before he turned it around.
“Maybe, but I won! She needs to respect her elders and remember that with those gangly arms of hers she’s got an advantage when it comes to food theft.” His eyes twinkled with youthful vivre despite the lines and creases surrounding them.
“An’ well fought. Before you start skitterin’ up the cross-masts I want you ta get Doc Jara ta give ya’ a look-over, then send her ta Rosy.” Whoop knew the captain didn’t mind some occasional roughhousing on her ship, he’d sailed with her for almost ten years, and that she was just looking out for him.
“Bah, dunno who babies me worse: you or the doc. But if’n yer tellin’ me to rest I won’t question tha cap’n’s orders.” With a grin he practically skipped to the lower decks, stopping only to receive congratulations from his still-excited crewmates.
For the next few minutes, Ikka patrolled the Mustang before her first mate called to get her attention. “Captain!” Blossoming Isu yelled. “Come on up and take a look!”
Isu, one of the few members of the crew shorter than Captain Ikka, was reclining on the uppermost cross-mast on the ship. Getting to him would take her at least five minutes of climbing, since she wasn’t as spry as she used to be. Unfortunately, if Isu was asking her it was important.
Grumbling, she made her way up the rigging, graciously accepting help from other crew members as she ascended. Panting, she pulled herself up next to the spotted man. Isu was the only Djala that the captain knew. He was nimble, flexible, and hairless, with paper-white skin dotted with large black circles. For maximum range of motion he typically only wore a blue cloth jacket and a loincloth.
“Flower-boy ya’ better have a good reason for me ta’ be sweatin’ like this, or I’ll have yer hide.” Wheezing in front of the crew, no matter how devoted they were, would shake their confidence in her.
He twirled his spyglass before handing it to her. “Altar Island ahoy, but we’ve got visitors.”
“Empress’s tits, give me that!” Urgently snatching the glass and bracing herself, she scanned the horizon. “That’s an emergency you sack of—what?” Images of Realm warships or fair folk raiders flashed through her head, or maybe some sort of sea monster sunning itself on the little island.
What she didn’t expect to see was seven humans, staring at her ship. A few must have seen the glint of the spyglass because it felt like they were staring directly at her. There were also no other ships in view, though they were near a half-assembled tent. Maybe a fishing boat was hidden on the other side of the hill, but they didn’t look like fishers.
While she tried to process what she was seeing, she glanced at the open treasure cache. If they’d taken anything out of it, she couldn’t tell from here.
“Saw the tall one with the ponytail on the side call the rest over while you were climbin’,” Isu seemed unbothered, though she knew his thoughts were racing as much as hers. “Otherwise they’ve just been sittin’ there, watchin’ us.”
They didn’t look like sailors. Nor did they look like pirates, or soldiers. Only two had weapons, and one’s was made of wood. Each was wearing something slightly different and the girls with the bright red and purple hair stuck out but only because the rest had shades of black and dark brown. None of their hair colors were odd, in Ikka’s experience.
Ikka tried to put together a scenario in her head that explained why a small group of young…yes, young adults were on her island. The only reasonable explanation that made sense is that they were left on the island as a sacrifice, but even that seemed like a stretch since they had weapons and a tent.
There was the altar to consider…It was the only notable feature of the little atoll. Ikka inspected it once with the help of the ship’s doctor, Rajara Clementine, who knew a few things about the religious practices across the archipelago. Doc Jara concluded that the engravings were in Old Realm, a language spoken by gods and ancient documents. But the island seemed inactive and unused, so they decided to keep some of their ill-gotten gains hidden there.
It was the only explanation that couldn’t be immediately disproven by something else. She sighed. “We figure out why they’re here, I s’pose.” As she started to climb back down, Isu took back his spyglass and resumed watching them.
----------------------------------------
When the ship came into view and Kodachi called them over, nobody knew what they would do. They could tell from here that it was some sort of old-timey sailing ship with two masts and a lot of sails. It was headed straight for them and all they could do was wait.
“Do we have a plan if it’s pirates?” Ryoga asked the question everybody was thinking. “If so, I think we should take their ship by force.”
Tatewaki nodded in agreement. “If truly they are rogues and knaves it would be sensible to commandeer their vessel and procure their maps so that we might navigate our way home.”
Akane found herself wishing, not for the first time today, that Kuno wasn’t here. Ideally she wouldn’t be here either, but having either Kuno around meant she didn’t feel safe at all. At least Tatewaki kind of listened to her, but sometimes even if he was trying to help he just made things worse.
“If they attack us,” Akane began slowly, pausing to emphasize her point. “We should retaliate. But only until they surrender. Unless one of you knows how to sail a ship like that with only seven people.”
Shampoo scoffed. “We won’t need to attack them. I will talk, they will listen.” She tried to leave it at that simple declaration, but everybody stared. Her only response was to affect her most regal, dignified stance by crossing her wrists behind her back, standing up straight, and leveling her chin.
She did project an imperious aura, everyone had to admit, but Ukyo pointed out the obvious. “Pirates don’t exactly respect authority, sugar.” The okonomiyaki chef gestured at the hidden treasure vault, only the top of which was visible from their angle. “Same goes for you two.” She pointed at the Kunos before they could say anything.
Impudent brat, Kodachi thought.
…Is that Kuonji’s sister? Tatewaki pondered.
Being unable to read minds, Ukyo continued and suggested: “I think Ranchan is the best one to talk to them.”
Ranma gawped, surprised to be volunteered for talking of all things. “Me? Why me? And what would I even say?”
“Darlin’, your daddy’s a scoundrel and a thief. You’re the one who picked up this was hidden pirate treasure.” Ukyo stated it as if it were obvious. “An’ while I know you were just a young’un when all that happened, you grew up with ‘im. I bet you know how to talk to these people.”
Akane interjected, not to disagree with Ukyo but to suggest a second good reason. “Plus you’re good at talking to people, when you remember not to start insulting them.”
“Who’re you to talk to me about name-callin’, tom-Akane?” Ranma pivoted at the last moment, making sure not to say the word she'd called Akane almost every day since they first met. She was working on it, she wanted to do better for her fiancée.
Her fiancée did notice what she almost said, and it did cause a flutter of anger to rise up in her belly, but she also appreciated that unlearning two years of habit was a process. Much like her own process of unlearning to respond to Ranma’s needling in anger.
Taking a cue out of her fiancée’s book, Akane smirked. “You’re usually so good at scamming people, you don’t think you can manage against a bunch of professionals?” When she didn’t respond, Akane was worried she’d crossed a line somehow.
“Akane, that’s stupid. I don’t have my wardrobe or any accessories. I don’t even have any hot water.” Ranma groused. “Although…no, where would we even get the cucumbers?” She asked no one, lost in thought.
Oh, nevermind. Akane rolled her eyes. Of course she was worried about props.
“You and Shampoo tricked me, like, three times in a row with that ‘Cupid’ thing and, in hindsight, you didn’t do…much. Why don’t both of you talk for us?” It was a sound compromise, but both Ukyo and Akane scowled at Ryoga for putting the idea out there.
“Oh yes, airen, I like Ryoga’s idea.” The purple-haired warrior woman purred, smirking at her romantic rivals.
Before Akane or Ukyo could respond, Ranma got uncharacteristically assertive. “We're not starting that shit here!” She was angry and frustrated, not just proudly blustering or trying to hide her insecurities beneath a veil of macho posturing.
“Shampoo, we’re all stuck in a weird situation and don't know what's going on, or where we are, or how to get home.” Akane wondered where Ranma was going with this. She’d been…well, grumpy since Jusendo and Saffron. That itself wasn’t weird, both she and Ranma almost died several times, but this was the first time Ranma had pushed through her melancholic introspection in a big way. Akane hoped that was a good thing.
“Honestly, this goes for everybody here…except you Ryoga, we’re cool.” The lost boy looked around confused, not sure how to feel about being explicitly excluded from the rant Ranma was building to.
“First, you two,” Ranma pointed at the Kunos, eyes narrowed. “We need to get something straight: I am Ranma Saotome. Two years ago I fell in a magic spring in China, and now cold water turns me into a woman and hot water turns me into a man.”
Akane gasped when she realized Ranma didn’t refer to Jusenkyo as a cursed spring, just a magic one. And she didn’t say that hot water changed her back into a man. What she’d said at Jusendo, quietly in the rain, wasn’t a fluke. Ukyo gave Akane a strange look, not understanding why her rival gasped.
Ranma’s words pierced Tatewaki’s heart. He had literally held Ranma in his arms when “she” changed into “him” but it never seemed to get through his thick skull that Ranma was the same person in both forms. Part of that was the endless shit-stirring from Nabiki Tendo, Akane’s older sister and his former classmate, but mostly it was how dense he was.
Kodachi, on the other hand, grit her teeth. She’d never seen the transformation herself, but she was suspicious that the red-haired girl (she refused to think of a lesser creature like Ranma as a “woman”) was so similar to her beloved Lord Ranma.
“If we had the time I’d boil some water and make you watch me change back and forth until you got it, but we ain’t got time. If you still don’t believe me, at least understand that right now, the ‘pigtailed girl’ and Ranma Saotome both just want to get home.
“But the bigger problem is that I’ve been…” She paused, collected her words, holding up a single finger to keep anyone from interrupting her. “Ukyo, Shampoo, Akane…I like all of you. Ukyo, you were my first best friend—probably my first friend. I’m sorry my dad screwed your dad over, but he had no right to promise me to someone else. And he’s not here right now anyway.”
A reminder of another deal her father made for her, when she was too young to even sign her name, flashed in her mind but she shook it away. The contract was too far away to threaten her now, she couldn’t think about it.
Turning to Shampoo, she took a moment to ponder the beautiful warrior woman. Their first meeting was a fight, a challenge made in anger. Shampoo was always challenging her somehow. “Shampoo, fighting you always forces me to improvise and think outside the box, especially when your gremlin of a granny is involved,” she ignored Shampoo’s angry look. “I’ve learned a lot about the ‘anything goes’ part of Anything Goes Martial Arts thanks to you. I’m glad you respect my skill, but you don’t respect me. I’m in this mess because I wanted to end our ‘marriage’ and that’s still true.”
She knew she was rambling. But these were feelings she’d been holding on to for years and only the fear and pain she experienced in Jusendo gave her the kick she needed to speak them aloud.
“Akane…” Ranma’s fiancée braced herself. She knew she wasn’t innocent when it came to Ranma. She’d hurt the gender-bending martial artist time and again, often in a fit of rage or jealousy, or jealous rage. Ranma often provoked her into lashing out, but they never discussed it or talked through things afterward.
“Our dads threw us together even though we both said no. We’ve been, uh, forced into a thing before we were ready, before we ever got to know each other.” Thoughts twisted and cracked in Ranma’s head. She loved Akane, she knew it, but the chaos of their experiences and the weight of so many different expectations destroyed any hope of building something healthy.
“I…care a lot about you. I’m not fair to you, and I’m working on that. Our dads aren’t here. The engagement isn’t here.” Praying her meaning came across, not that she wanted their relationship to end but that she wanted to remove the obstacles in its way. “I hope you’ll…I want us to be friends first, okay?”
Bright, blue eyes shimmered, Akane swore she saw the beginning of tears before her own blurred everything. She remembered the first day they met, when she thought Ranma was a girl, that their dads made a mistake and she was gonna get a friend as dedicated to martial arts as her. She nodded slowly, hope and despair warring in her soul. The engagement was oftentimes the only thing she felt like she could rely on, the one constant connecting her to Ranma. But it was unfair, and it did make things harder for them.
Ryoga opened his mouth to say something, but Ranma shot him a venomous look that said she wasn’t done talking and he clenched his jaw shut, embarrassed.
“The point I’m trying to get to is that I want us to check all our baggage while we’re here. No ancient laws, no bullshit arrangements by our parents, and no oaths of vengeance!” Shaking, either from excitement or nerves, or both, she looked at everyone else from Nerima, the closest thing she had to friends, who she was stuck here with.
“All we have right now is each other. I know that’s weird, that we’ve all fought and we’ve all got reasons to mistrust each other. But we’re not gonna make it out of here if we make the same mistakes we made back home, back in Nerima.” She trailed off, unsure of how to end her speech, or if what she said was good enough.
The approaching ship was much closer, they could see movement on the deck. While this wasn’t the ideal time to process Ranma’s words, everybody at least agreed with the sentiment that they needed to work together.
Finally, Ryoga got a chance to respond. “So that was a really good example of why you should probably do the talking.” Everyone except for Kodachi nodded.
“Uggghhh, fine,” she groaned. She was glad five out of the six agreed at least. “You know I'm just gonna screw it up somehow, right?”