Ranko walked through the empty barroom, sipping a lukewarm cup of tea. She wore an orange long-sleeved shirt and a denim pleated skirt. This outfit made her smile ever since Akane picked it out for her the morning after the Christmas concert. The last two weeks had been largely a blur; the bar’s New Year’s event was successful, but not at the scale of their holiday show.
She hadn’t seen Akane since the morning after the concert, and she dared not call the dojo on the phone. These communication challenges were really starting to suck. She had never been anyone’s girlfriend before, and the longer it had gone on without contact, the more ridiculous it felt to her. She needed reassurance. She’d still not told any of the bar staff about the kiss or the conversation she and Akane had that morning, but she knew Yui at least strongly suspected.
She stepped outside, walking out to the street and opening the mailbox. There was the usual stack of ads and a few bills - thankfully none with the telltale red ink indicating they were past due. Ranko flipped through the envelopes as she walked back to Hana’s office to deposit them, throwing away the junk mail and keeping the important-looking stuff. However, it was the second-to-last envelope that really caught her eye – because it was addressed to her. She didn’t recognize the return address.
Who would send mail to me here? Who even knows I’m here? She pulled one of the knives from the knife block in the kitchen and slit the envelope open, dumping its contents onto the stainless steel countertop. There was a sheet of paper with some sort of rigid card folded inside. She unfolded the paper and her breath caught in her throat.
Stuck to the center of the paper with a little glue dot was a government identification card showing her photograph, wearing the business suit she’d borrowed from Izumi the day Hana took her to the library. It listed her address as that of the bar and her correct birthdate, but that was of little consequence. The card listed her name as Ranko Tendo, and her sex as female.
She slumped down onto her knees, staring at the little card and trying to wrap her mind around how earth-shatteringly significant the little piece of plastic was. She was legally a woman. She was legally Ranko. Ranma Saotome was now well and truly dead.
She was no longer living a lie.
She ran upstairs to fetch her little purse, slipping the card into a small credit card pocket inside and closing the bag securely. She clutched the bag to herself with an exhilarated smile. Ever since she’d abandoned her former identity, she had been, for all intents and purposes, a ghost. A non-person. Every time she so much as introduced herself to someone or was announced as she came on stage, she was adopting a persona, putting on a mask to hide the fact that the person underneath it no longer existed. She’d been constantly forced to dredge up the whole story, remember all the pain and hardship, and weave another layer into the incredibly elaborate falsehood that was her life. She felt a pang of guilt and shame every time someone addressed her by name. But now? No guilt. No questions. No stares. No pity. Just normalcy.
Now, it was real. She was just a girl. Four months ago, that thought was enough to drive her nearly to self-harm. But now? She couldn’t have wished for anything else. She was no longer playing at anything. She didn’t have to feel like she was secretly being perverted if she wore a dress. Ranko Tendo was no longer the stage name she used in the 24/7 performance she’d been living for months. Now, it was just… her. An identity of her own making. And no one could ever take it from her.
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She laid on her bed for a minute, allowing herself to daydream. While it would certainly be awkward when Ranko introduced people to her girlfriend, she now legally had the same family name as Akane. Even if things went well in their relationship, Ranko knew they could never get married as two women, but having taken Akane’s name still felt like a commitment to her, even if she hadn’t intended it at the time she picked it.
She had to do something. She had to show somebody. She knew she could never convey to Hana and the others just how momentous a change this simple little piece of plastic had been, but she couldn’t contain it to herself, either. She had to go somewhere, get a subway pass, order a sandwich, anything. All she wanted in the world was to give her name to someone, anyone, and know it was hers and not something she’d stolen.
She ran down the steps, strapping her bag across her body and slipping her white peacoat on, and stepped out onto the sidewalk. She was careful to lock the front door, picking a direction at random and walking. She found a little coffee stand, placing an order for a cappuccino. When the barista called out, “Order for Ranko!” she stood up from her bench and waved enthusiastically. “That’s me!” And for the first time, it really was.
She strolled down the street, letting her beverage cool for a few minutes before daring to sip at it. She was now Ranko forever, but certain remnants of her former life remained, the Cat’s Tongue being foremost among them. She chuckled to herself, mentally inverting the event that started this all for her years ago. Now, she bore a curse such that whenever she was splashed with hot water, she would become a man. But the shapely redheaded girl with the singing voice everybody loved? That Akane thought was cute? This was her true form now. Even the government of Japan said so, and the proof was in her purse. It felt good.
She scanned the businesses on the street, looking for any opportunity to introduce herself. She chuckled as her eyes fell on the dojo she’d fought at on the day she met Hana. The sensei had suggested she join his intermediate girls’ class, and for a split second, she considered doing it just to fill out the application form. She still couldn’t believe that such a clown of a sensei beat her, but she had been far from her best that day. Freaking idiot. I was just applying for a job and he accused me of challenging his dumb dojo. She cringed remembering all the students laughing at her, just like the crowd at the match with Mikado. Nope, you can’t get me today, jerk. Nice try, she mentally admonished the specter of the skater that still occasionally intruded on her mind.
She took a few more steps, wondering if the nail salon next door would ask for her name if she walked in. Her hand was on the door handle and she could already smell the acetone when she froze suddenly, thunderstruck. She gasped and turned, tossing away her half-full beverage and running for home as fast as her legs would carry her. She couldn’t believe she’d never thought of it before.
At long last, she had figured out how to get rid of at least one of the obstacles to being with Akane. Now, how to pull it off?