Ranko walked back toward the kitchen door, playing with the skirt of her white dress in her fingers. She felt like she was floating on air.

She had one foot in the hallway leading to the kitchen when Yui reached out with her left hand, grabbing the blue saloon door and holding it fast to prevent it from swinging further inward. “Nuh-uh. Don’t you dare, missy. Sit. Spill. I want to know everything.” She grinned, gesturing in a mock threat with the knife in her hand before setting it to work on an orange.

Ranko stepped on the brass footrest and climbed up onto the brown vinyl seat of the barstool opposite her sister’s workstation. As she turned her backside to the seat, she remembered at the last moment to be mindful of her skirt. Dresses are such a pain in the ass, man. “There’s not much to tell. Nothing happened. We slept, we talked, we had breakfast, she left. She’s just a friend, Yui.”

Yui gave a disbelieving smirk, tossing a bifurcated orange into the plastic container waiting nearby. “Uh-huh. Sure she is.”

Ranko blushed deeply, recoiling a little from a squirt of juice that spritzed her cheek when Yui sliced into another fruit. She reached out to the bin on the other side of Yui’s workspace for a lemon, picking up the knife Yui slid across the counter to her. “What?! She is!”

The blonde nodded, an amused chuckle breaking through her attempt to pull off a serious response. “Okay, Ranko. She’s just a friend, and I’m the emperor’s daughter.”

Her youngest sister sighed as she pushed through a lemon with her paring knife, a sad reality reintroducing itself after a blissful few hours’ respite. She could not muster a reply.

Yui frowned, reaching out for Ranko’s right wrist between slices to get her attention. “Hey. We talked about this, kiddo. If you like her, you’ve gotta tell her.”

Ranko shook her head in exasperation. “Even if I did like her like that - and I’m not saying I do! - it wouldn’t matter. She doesn’t like girls. Plus, her father is super traditional about these kinds of things. He’d never tolerate it. And, honestly, I’m not sure how I’d feel about it, either.” Of course, the idea of being a girl and dating a girl was a lot more appealing to her than being a girl and dating a guy. The thought of a boyfriend made her skin crawl.

That was part of the reason I had to get the hell away from Pop, before he got the bright idea that if I wasn’t gonna be able to change back, he could sell me off to somebody as their... She shuddered at the very thought of it. With my luck, it’d be Kuno, or like, some snooty rich French dude or something. He’d have stuffed my ass in a wedding dress and sold me into slavery in a fucking second, and never thought twice about it.

“Maybe it’s better if I don’t date anybody at all,” Ranko mused darkly, the fried egg she’d made for breakfast suddenly not sitting as well in her stomach as she might have liked.

Yui nodded sadly, fingering her sleeves and remembering her lost Kimiko. “I get feeling like that. Believe me, I do. I haven’t been on a date in… shit, almost ten years now? I know you’ve gotta be careful about these things, especially around old-fashioned jerks. But I also know that you lit up like a Christmas tree when you saw her, whether you want to admit it or not, and I’d hate to see you ignore that.”

Ranko nodded distantly, lost in her own thoughts.

What if Mr. Tendo did allow it? Nabiki could still marry someone to take over the school, right? I mean, Kasumi’s all but certain to end up with Dr. Tofu. I don’t envy anyone showing up at his office if that happens, though. Damn. My neck still hurts sometimes just thinking about it. But it would never work. Nabiki isn’t half as devoted to martial arts as Akane is. I only saw her practice a handful of times the whole time I lived there - and besides, the whole point of the engagement was to merge the schools as well as the families. Under the circumstances, that ain’t happening now.

Plus, if I ended up with Akane, I’d be expected to go back to the dojo, and that would mean all the drama of that world again, and leaving… everything good I’m building here. I can only imagine what Pop would say if he saw me now, wearing a cute white dress with a bow in my hair for no reason other than wanting to look pretty for Akane. Her cheeks flushed brightly at the realization that impressing Akane had, in fact, been the motivation for her current attire. There’d be yelling, pouting, a healthy dose of shame and dishonor talk, and somebody would probably be taking a one-way flight into the koi pond. No thanks. Compared to that, living as a pop idol and Izumi’s personal freakin’ Barbie doll sounds like a freakin’ cakewalk.

A quiet smirk crossed her lips for just the briefest of moments. Oh, what I’d give to put Mama and Pop in a room together for five fucking minutes, though. Whoo. Not enough popcorn in the freakin’ universe for that shit.

But, me and Akane? It would never work. Be real, Ranko. We managed to pull off being friendly for a few hours, but if we got together long-term, it would only be a matter of time before we’d be back to arguments and hammers, calling each other un-cute, and all of that shit. Everybody else would be all up in our lives, and all the friggin’ circus freaks around with the Kunos and Ryoga and everybody else around there would never let us live in peace. If the shit really hit the fan, Akane couldn’t cut her family out of her life and haul ass as easily as I did.

More importantly, Akane deserves better than being ridiculed for being with a girl, and the only way to protect her from that would be to keep a relationship quiet. I’ve spent long enough hiding who I am and holding my breath around a mountain of secrets, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, especially Akane.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Besides, how could she take care of someone else? She was already living off Hana’s charity, and not making nearly enough to support herself, let alone two people. She had no marketable skills and hadn’t even finished high school. Her nonexistent pain tolerance – courtesy of Koh Lon – had ended any hope of a career in martial arts, and Akane was right: she had no backup plan to speak of. On the other hand, she wouldn’t necessarily be held to the responsibilities of being the guy in the relationship, because she wasn’t anymore. But would Akane see it that way? Worse, could she really stand the thought of Akane being the breadwinner in the relationship while Ranko waited tables, or worse still, became a homemaker? Dressing and acting like a proper girl was hard enough for her to figure out, but turning into Kasumi was several bridges too far.

No, it’s too late. I had my chance, and I missed it. I ran away from it. But… it was Ranma that screwed everything up with her, and Ranma isn’t here anymore. Maybe things could be dif...

“Hey…” Yui waved her hand in front of the redhead’s face. “Earth to Ranko. You still with me over there, kiddo?”

Ranko blushed, snapping out of her thoughts. She reached for the paring knife she’d left on the countertop, shaking her head. C’mon, airhead. Get with it. You’re supposed to be working. “Yeah, sorry. Just daydreaming, I guess.”

The blonde smirked softly, giving her sister an understanding nod. “Cute girls can have that effect on us sometimes.”

Saddened though she was, Ranko couldn’t help laughing, and Yui joined her.

“You gonna see her again?” Yui asked hopefully, popping a wedge of orange into her mouth and wiping the juice off on the hips of her blue jeans.

For all the good it’ll do. Still, just getting to hang out with her again after all this time… Ranko shrunk a bit on her stool, biting her lower lip, but she smiled through it and gave an excited little nod.

Yui grinned, tossing another orange into the garnish bin. “Atta girl! Talk to Iz, and she’ll get you set up with the perfect date outf…”

With a crash, the front door swung open and Izumi burst into the room. She wore a tan knee-length skirt under a jewel-tone green turtleneck sweater. She wore no makeup, an almost uncanny sight on the perpetually fashion-conscious brunette. An absolutely frenzied expression painted her face as she rushed toward her sisters.

Ranko breathed a sigh of relief at no longer being the center of attention. “Uhhh, Izzi? You okay, sis? Little too much coffee this morning?” She made a pinching gesture with her fingers.

Ignoring Yui’s laughter, Izumi darted to the bar counter and mounted the stool to Ranko’s right, shaking her head wildly. “No! You guys! You’re not gonna believe it!” She waved her left hand frantically, and a glint of light caught something on one of her fingers. “Kaito asked me to marry him!”

“What?!” Yui dropped the knife in her hand, letting it clatter to rest on the cutting board. “Oh, Izzi! Honey! That’s amazing! Give it here! Let me see!” Yui took her sister’s hand, manipulating it every which way to examine the modest silver setting and solitaire diamond that adorned Izumi’s left ring finger.

Glad that at least somebody’s gonna get their happily ever after. Ranko smiled brightly, trying to wash the jealousy from her eyes before lifting them from her sister’s hand. “Izumi, I’m so happy for you both. And Hoshi, too!”

Izumi giggled as Yui fawned over her ring. “We haven’t even told Hoshi yet. We’re gonna do it over dinner tonight. But… I can’t believe it, girls! I’m freakin’ getting married! We decided on a Western-style wedding, just like the one that princess in England had a few years back. My gods, I’m gonna need a dress, and flowers, and a cake, and…” Her words quickly trailed into a hysterical screech of excitement.

Yui squeezed her hand. “Breathe, Izzi. You’ve got time. You don’t need to do all this in one day. And it’s not like you won’t have backup.”

The bride-to-be gasped, pulling her hand back and clasping it on her cheeks along with its mate. “Ohmygods, you’re right! I’m gonna need everybody’s help! You girls are gonna be my bridesmaids, right?”

Yui smiled warmly, patting the back of her hand. “Of course we will!”

Ranko chuckled, shaking her head as she picked her knife back up. “That’s gonna be a freakin’ huge wedding, with three bridesmaids.”

Izumi turned her head to face the redhead. “Four. Can’t you count, dummy?”

Ranko cocked her head. “How do you figure? You’ve got Ayako, Yui, Mei, and… waaaaaait a minute, you don’t mean…”

Izumi nodded emphatically. “Of course I do! I want all four of my sisters to stand with me.”

So much blood rushed to Ranko’s face that the resultant lightheadedness rocked her back on her stool. “I… I don’t know what to say.” She meant it. All she knew about the act of being a bridesmaid was that it involved a whole lot of primping and dressing up. I’m still getting the hang of fastening a bra. I’m nowhere near prepared for this shit. You must be crazy, Izzi!

Izumi grinned, throwing her arm over her redheaded sister’s shoulders and pulling her across the gap between their stools into a side hug. “You say yes, blockhead.”

Ranko exhaled with intimidation. She knew that the pressure to look and behave as a perfect lady, especially in a Western-culture ceremony about which she knew practically nothing, would be staggering. What if I embarrass Izumi on her wedding day? What if I use the wrong fancy fork or something, and somehow dishonor Izumi in front of Kaito or his family? I have no fucking idea what would be expected or what I’m supposed to do. Just, like, stand there with flowers and smile? Try not to fall on my face in heels?

She was terrified, but then again, leaning into the new and strange had been working for her so far. As she contemplated her response, she looked down at the dress Akane picked for her, and her mind slowed from a thousand simultaneous thoughts to just one. If she was flustered seeing me in this, she mused, fingering the embroidered roses of her skirt, then how would she react to…

The sound fell out of her mouth before she could finish her thought.

“Yes.”