Archive of Our Own

Once upon a time, all this would have been a dream.

When Ryoga arrived home after absentmindedly wandering into an idol concert at Saga, of all places, he was greeted with a letter in Akane’s trademark cutesy style of handwriting. She said she was looking forward to his return and wanted to meet as soon as possible. All this was usually enough to send his heartbeat racing, but she also signed the letter with a heart.

A heart.

Ryoga had always been weak to the smallest shows of affection.

It’s not like he had the place to be all excited though. The past two months had been fruitful for the young heirs of the Anything Goes dojo, as the couple had finally admitted their feelings for each other were far deeper than a tension-filled friendship. Ryoga found this out the hard way when Akane instigated a passionately intimate make-out with Ranma to publicly stake her claim. The collective despair in the world had been so great that Ukyo dropped her spatula, Shampoo fell off her bicycle, and Ryoga took a hard left straight into a utility pole then walked backwards into the ocean.

He was on his way to Akari’s family farm the morning after, determined to bury himself in tears and pig sludge for as long as he could take it.

The horrible thing was that Ryoga couldn’t even pretend that the whole event was a minor lapse of insanity on Akane’s part. Nabiki had taken to regularly sending photos of Ranma and Akane’s dates to all of their past suitors, effectively rubbing salt in the wound. Ryoga isn’t even sure why — surely the whole process was more expensive than it was worth — but the point was made. The two were officially off-limits.

He took out the picture Nabiki sent a few days ago: Ranma, in girl form, and Akane sharing a huge glass of ice cream at the usual spot.

Ryoga’s heart squeezed painfully in his chest. They looked happy.

Still, it wasn’t like he could ignore a summons from Akane. If she still wanted to meet with him even after she and Ranma had gotten together, Ryoga thought giddily, then how could he say no?

Maybe the two had even broken up. Probably over something inane, like Ranma being a bonehead as usual. Or some sort of magic mumbo-jumbo that needed another training trip to the mountains to solve. Or their parents finally deciding to step into the modern world and realize that arranged marriages just weren’t a real thing to be honored anymore.

Whatever it was, he had a good feeling that this time, things would change.

And so, Ryoga set out for the week-long journey to Nerima with a skip in his step.

Akane was being oddly quiet.

This was not going as planned. Ryoga slowly stirred his partially-melted sundae just so he had something to do with his hands. Was he supposed to talk in this situation? That seems like something Ranma would do. Put his foot in his mouth and drive Akane off. Maybe the idiot had gotten more gentle with time though. Probably.

Though even Ryoga had to admit, it’s not like Ranma meant to act like a total dick. He was just a dense idiot at the best of times and a willfully ignorant asshole at the worst, and nobody ever got the memo that these traits were supposed to make him less loveable. If nothing else, Ranma liked to think of himself as untouchable. This was true now, and it was true then, back when he first stole Ryoga’s lunch in middle school, his ponytail fluttering gracefully in the air as the sakura blossoms fell—

“Ryoga,” Akane said, “what do you think about Ranma?”

Ryoga grimaced. “Out of respect for you and your new relationship, I really shouldn’t say.”

Akane frowned at him. “Don’t say that. Ranma isn’t the most honest about feelings, but he does think well of you. You’re probably the closest friend he has.”

Damn, Ryoga thought, she actually loves the bastard. He never thought the day would come that Akane would be defending her fiance against him. P-chan was always innocent and Ryoga was, if nothing else, less prone to looking like a perverted asshole in most situations. He’d gotten used to being somewhat immune from Akane’s characteristic ire.

Guess that immunity was gone now. Akane’s brows were furrowed, somehow managing to angrily take a bite of her mint chocolate, like she was trying to eat her frustration away. She still made it look cute.

Ranma just had to have it all, like always. It wasn’t enough that he was fast, strong, and pretty. He had to get Akane too. And now, she was — what? Trying to let Ryoga down gently? There was a sinking feeling in his gut that had the beginnings of a brilliant Shi Shi Hokodan later in the day. Akane was really far too kind, especially for a guy like him, whose heart was far too fragile to be constantly torn in half like this.

A friend. Hah.

Akane sighed. “I need you to help him.”

“Yeah?” Ryoga said, resigned to his fate. Surely, there was a god that reveled in his suffering. That was the only explanation. “What about?”

“You’d help both him and me, now that I think about it,” Akane muttered, more to herself than to Ryoga. “Probably mostly me. Oh, but please don’t think too badly of me for this, Ryoga. I’d like to think we’ve all grown up a bit, haven’t we? And a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do, so. This is fine.”

This was maybe the most lost he had ever been in a conversation. “Are you . . . okay?”

“I’m fine,” Akane said, far too loudly than normal. “I just need a moment.”

She was nervous, that much was clear, and it was making Ryoga feel fidgety too. What kind of crazy situation was Ranma in now?

Akane took a deep breath, and Ryoga internally braced himself for another obsessive fiance, another magical disaster, another fight that needed to be won against an enemy that was too strong for even the great Saotome Ranma to face alone.

“I need you to have sex with Ranma,” Akane blurted out.

Ryoga blinked.

Then her words registered in his brain.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Ryoga abruptly stood from his seat, blushing furiously. “I-I don’t even know where to start! Please tell me you’re joking. Tell me this is a prank, or maybe some kind of twisted dreamland. How could you ask me to have se—”

“Oh my god,” Akane yelped, dragging him by the shirt. She slammed him down so hard that he could feel his jaw snap shut and his soul rattle hollowly in his body.

Oh my god, Ryoga thought dazedly, dimly aware that he could feel her touch.

This was real.

Probably magic. Had to be magic. There was some sick bastard that inflicted Ranma with a curse that needed sex to cure and Akane was obviously too pure and innocent to fix him herself. This seemed like the kind of bullshit that had Happosai’s dirty, wrinkled hands all over it. Or this was a typical Shampoo scheme gone wrong and Akane just needed someone to get to Ranma before the Amazon did. Or this was some stupid holdover side-effect from Jusenkyo that none of them knew about until now, because it wasn’t like their lives weren’t insane enough already.

If Ryoga had a magical sex curse, would Ranma save him? Fuck, this was too crazy to think about. He hoped the bastard would at least consider it before having a big laugh like he probably would.

Maybe he wouldn’t do it. Ranma had Akane, and it’d be a stain on his honor to be with anyone other than the girl he’d been promised to since birth. Ryoga didn’t have a girl in his life that mattered to him like that. There was maybe Akari, but she was—

Well, it didn’t matter. Ranma needed him.

Ryoga swallowed. “At least tell me what cursed him, Akane. Something that needs . . . such extreme measures to get rid of shouldn’t exist in this world.”

Akane stared at him. “There’s no curse, Ryoga.”

No curse?

But that would mean — and Akane wanted him to — and him and Ranma would be —

A familiar pressure built up between his eyes, and before Ryoga could stop it, blood was gushing out of nose with the force of a small rocket leaving the atmosphere.

“Let’s get out of here,” Akane said quickly, shoving a wad of tissues in his face. Their sundaes were left unfinished on the table, but Ryoga didn’t have it in him to care. He barely felt Akane taking him by the hand and leading them out the ice cream shop.

Him and Ranma. Like that. Ryoga’s heart was beating so loudly, it drowned out the rest of the world.

“I trust you to not breathe a word of this to anyone else,” Akane said.

Who would he tell? Why would he risk ruining this? Ryoga just nodded, trying not to be too obvious that he couldn’t do much more than that.

And as they walked through the streets of Nerima, she told him a story that was almost too insane to be believed.

Ranma and Akane were exploring the more intimate parts of their new relationship, and they’ve done nearly everything except that. (Ryoga nearly dug himself into a hole on the other side of the planet when he heard this.) Akane wanted to push their relationship further, but Ranma had been hesitant. It was definitely not a feelings or a lack of interest problem. He was just too afraid of hurting Akane to touch her, especially in his much stronger boy form. He had even taken to spending more time in his girl form just to delay things even more.

Not that this was a problem either, because Akane shyly admitted to liking Ranma’s girl form just as much as his boy form. (Ryoga barely held himself back from screaming gloriously to the heavens at the images that formed in his mind.) But Akane was getting antsy over how stubborn Ranma was being over denying something they both wanted to do, and she was worried that he was internally beating himself up over nothing.

Because it was just like Ranma to think his fiance wanting to fuck him silly was a problem, just like having a group of attractive girls constantly fight over him was a problem. Ugh. He was such a bastard.

A bastard that could (would?) be under him, warm skin and messy hair and wet mouth sounding out his name. Ryoga shivered.

They turned a corner that Ryoga thought would lead them to Furinkan High, but the path took them through a bridge instead. The sunlight sparkling on the river’s blue reminded him of Ranma’s eyes.

“So I said, if he could experience what it was like to be with a man, then he wouldn’t have to worry about being with me as a man,” Akane declared, her fist clenched tightly with the flames of her passion. “He just needs to see that it’s not scary or painful and that it won’t hurt too much at all. Then it will all work out.”

There were a lot of flaws in Akane’s plan. Probably. Ryoga wasn’t really in the right mental space to pick at it too much. It didn’t seem like this was the sort of thing he could talk her out of either, even if he did have his head on straight.

“Uh,” Ryoga said, because he didn’t know how else to start a conversation with the girl he had liked for years now asking him to sleep with her fiance. “So why me?”

Akane scoffed. “Who else could it be? Mousse? Kuno? No way. You’re the only one I can trust with Ranma.” She added, “And you’re the only one Ranma would trust with this.”

Ryoga flushed. “But you . . . you really wanna share Ranma like that, Akane? With me?”

It wasn't like Ryoga was blind to Akane’s fits of jealousy in the past, try as he might have before to deny the affection that was clearly there. He imagined that her fury only intensified now that the two were actually together.

But now she was clear-eyed, with a confident stride and a stubborn look to the way she angled her jaw. Ranma’s love looked good on her. He couldn’t believe he tried so hard to fight it before.

“I’ll do anything to make Ranma happy,” Akane said, quiet yet firm. “I’m not going to push you, Ryoga. I just want you to think about it. And if it’s something you’re open to do, we’ll be waiting. There’s no harm in being honest about what you want.”

The shadows of the sunset made her look far more intense than she should have been. Ryoga’s mouth went dry at the sight of her. For the first time, he was realizing that she was serious. Meekly, he nodded, not sure what else he could say.

Him and Ranma, with Akane’s approval. If this was a dream . . . there were worse ones to have.

It felt like no time had passed at all until they arrived at the Tendo Dojo. Akane shucked off her shoes, yelling “I’m home!” as she entered the living room. Ryoga hastily followed suit.

“Welcome back, tomboy,” Ranma’s voice echoed from the kitchen.

“Sorry to intrude,” Ryoga said, feeling his face heat up. God, what was wrong with him? It wasn’t like he was going to sleep with Ranma tonight. He hadn’t even properly discussed anything with Akane yet. No, today was just another normal day of wandering into Nerima, another exercise in balancing the simmering crush on the first girl that had showed him kindness and the fierce rage against the infuriating boy-girl that always brought him to a boiling point.

He watched, somewhat glumly, as the pair of fiances laughed with an easy affection that used to regularly feature in his darkest nightmares. Akane was embracing Ranma from behind — the latter in girl form still, frying fish on the stove while soup was cooking in another pot.

“Oh,” Ranma said, after Akane whispered something in his ear. A head of maraschino-red turned in his direction, all sly smirks and teasing eyes and all the things that made Ryoga’s knees go weak. “Welcome back to you too, porkbutt. Awful sorry we ain’t got bacon for ‘ya.”

Ryoga bristled, more out of reflex than anything else. “If you’ve ruined the food somehow, I swear—”

“Ouch.” Ranma put a hand on his hip, mock offended. “I’ll have you know I’m a much better cook than tomboy over here, and I’m not talking about cup noodles. Not only, anyway.”

“Ranma,” Akane warned.

“Nabiki said it first,” Ranma grinned at her. “I’m just, y’know, cute and innocent and I believe everything she tells me. ‘Cuz she’s so smart and all.”

Akane pinched his cheek and Ranma just laughed again. Ryoga stared.

If Ranma’s love made Akane more centered, Akane’s love made Ranma absolutely radiant with joy. Even when Akane left for a quick bath, it was like there was a lingering piece of sunlight that stayed with the boy-girl. Ryoga never thought he’d see the day that Ranma was gamely washing the dishes while cooking dinner at the same time, but here he was. Humming under his breath and everything. It was a small wonder that Ryoga wasn’t gaping rudely at the sight.

It was a small wonder that Ryoga hadn’t lost his mind yet, if he was being honest. Seeing girl Ranma in his short shorts and Kasumi’s spare apron was doing things to him. He was just a guy, and guys had urges, and Ranma had a bad habit of making it way too easy for guys to leer over his girl form.

You could rip that apron off right now, Ryoga’s mind cajoled.

Shut up, he thought back. As if Ranma would ever let me.

At that moment, Ranma cast a curious look over his shoulder. Ryoga gulped. He was suddenly hit by how domestic the scene looked: a young couple in a kitchen, waiting to share a meal together. Had Ranma and Akane ever felt like this? Add a few years and he might look like a husband coming home to his wife . . .

“Since you’re staying for dinner, you better make yourself useful. I want the table ready by the time Akane is done,” Ranma said. He turned off the stove and began taking small stacks of bowls and glasses out from the cupboards. “Just the three of us. Everybody else is out.”

A jolt ran through Ryoga’s spine. “We’re alone?”

Ranma raised an eyebrow. “Oi, don’t get any funny ideas. I’m still around, ‘ya hear? Sleep over if you like, but there’s not gonna be any nonsense between you and Akane tonight.”

The irony of the whole situation made him laugh. Ryoga stepped beside Ranma, taking the wooden paddle that was offered to him a smidge more forcefully than he needed to. “She made her choice pretty clear. I’ll honor that. I’m not fighting you for her, not anymore.”

“Good.” Ranma knocked him with his hips, more familiar than usual, a smug look firmly in place. “I’m still fighting you though.”

Ryoga grinned. “Yeah?”

“’Course I am. You’re here, dojo’s here, and Akane can watch me thrash ‘ya in peace. Just my idea for a perfect night.”

Ryoga paused from transferring rice from the rice cooker. A spar would normally ease his nerves, but the opportunity for such intense physical contact with Ranma was probably too tempting to take. Then ending the day with laying down beside the other boy, alone in the dark without a snoring panda to kill the mood? He’d be treading dangerous waters. No, Ryoga thought, his playful mood dissipating. He shouldn’t do anything before discussing things with Akane again. He had to be completely sure she understood what she was asking him to do.

That wasn’t even factoring Ranma himself, who might Hiryu Shoten Ha him out of the continent the second his hands held his waist for anything more than a quick grapple. The smart thing — if Ryoga was really set on doing this, and he was quickly accepting that he was — was to be patient, even though it would take everything he had not to give in to his lack of control.

He must have taken too long to respond because Ranma was snickering at him. “Thought you were a pig, not a chicken,” he taunted. “Come on. Let’s go a few rounds, see how long you last.”

“Probably not that long,” Ryoga muttered to himself.

“Louder, P-chan.”

“Go fight yourself!”

“And here I thought we were friends.” Ranma rolled his eyes. “If you ain’t up for a spar, just say so, dummy. It’s not a crime to be honest with what you want.”

Ryoga looked down at his rival. The height difference when Ranma was a girl still caught him by surprise sometimes. From this angle, he could see the dip of his collarbone, the soft slope of his shoulders, the elegance of his long fingers even for something as mundane as arranging fish on the serving plate. The faint hold he had over himself crumbled. Fuck the slight cleavage peeking out from the other boy’s tank top and apron — standing together in the Tendo’s kitchen like this, the impossibility that was Saotome Ranma was finally close enough for him to reach.

He gripped Ranma’s wrist. Grey-blue looked up at him, wide and curious, and Ryoga’s heart was threatening to explode out of his chest. It was almost like the sakura blossoms had started falling again.

“Ranma,” Ryoga started, his voice raw. “I can’t hide this anymore. I can’t take it. You have to know . . . I can’t do this without telling you . . . all this time, all I wanted—”

“Ranma? Ryoga?” Akane’s voice echoed from the hall.

She stepped into the kitchen, freshly bathed, drops of water still clinging to her bangs. For the first time since he met her, Ryoga wanted to snarl at her in annoyance. Guilt immediately clawed up his throat. It wasn’t like she knew what he was feeling; he could barely understand it himself.

Ranma tended to have that effect on him. Maybe he always had. Was it the same for her too? The thought made his heart clench. Everything was so simple before they figured it out.

“I’m so sorry,” Ryoga gasped out. “Akane, I’m so sorry.”

The girl in question only cocked her head in confusion. “What happened?”

Ryoga opened his mouth, ready to make a billion excuses for why he needed to leave Nerima — maybe even the whole of Tokyo — right that moment.

Ranma twisted his wrist slightly, loosening Ryoga’s grip and taking him by the hand instead.

“This idiot was just feeling bad over almost wrecking the rice cooker,” Ranma lied smoothly, even managing to make it sound fond. “Can you believe it? He’s just as clumsy as you, Akane. You’re both so lucky that I’m around to fix your messes.”

Ryoga tried to smile at her, still feeling incredibly conscious. “Yeah, he’s . . . he’s something, alright.”

Akane cast a suspicious look over the two boys before settling on an angry huff. “Really, maybe all this could be avoided if you’d just let me help you, Ranma. We’ll get Kasumi to teach me. I can make dinner with you!”

He felt a squeeze on his hand before he was let go.

“I would risk my life for you, ‘Kane,” Ranma said. “But preferably not like that.”

Ranma was already walking away with all the plates and bowls balanced on his arms and head, exchanging playful banter with his fiance, leaving Ryoga alone to stare down at his hands. They still felt warm.

All these years and their palms still fit against each other the same way.

Maybe Ryoga was doomed from the start.

Dinner looked delicious. It was a shame it all tasted like ashes in Ryoga’s mouth.

It was all just so unfair. He was supposed to be happy; happy he was back among friends, happy he could do Akane a favor, happy he had the chance to safely address his little obsession with Ranma and finally get it out of his system. Instead, Ryoga had a horrible case of the feelings, and it was making him so miserable that he couldn’t even take joy in Ranma and Akane’s petty bickering devolving into an actual argument. Were they talking about him? He thought he heard his name thrown out a few times. Something about invites and triangles and bad ideas. Ryoga was too numb to care.

Ranma was taking out his frustration on the dishes. Akane was taking out her frustration on him.

“He’s so infuriating!” Akane fumed. Right jab, right jab, left uppercut.

“Yeah.” Block, leg sweep.

“He should trust me by now!” Jump, stabilize, roundhouse kick, left straight.

“Yeah.” Dodge, block, dodge.

“But maybe I should know better too.” For a moment, Akane faltered. Then she planted her feet, grounded her stance, and launched at Ryoga with a mighty roar. “No! We both have things to work on! It’s not just me!”

“Yeah.” Block — ah, Ryoga winced, was she always this strong? — into a high kick that he made sure to telegraph. They were just sparring, after all. He didn’t want to hurt her.

As expected, Akane sidestepped it easily. She bounced on her heels. “I’m glad you’re here, Ryoga. Because lately, whenever I see Ranma, my insides just feel like—”

With a yell, she flattened her hand and dealt a vicious blow to a straw dummy with a little pigtail.

“It feels like I’m on fire.” Akane centered herself with a deep breath. Her posture relaxed, and Ryoga mirrored her. “I’m just so mad. And it feels like I’m going crazy, because it’s a different kind of mad. Because now I know what I . . . what I feel for him. I know that I want to pull him closer instead of push him away, but sometimes it’s too much. I keep going back to how we used to be.”

Ryoga looked down at his hands. “Yeah,” he said softly.

There must have been something in his expression, because Akane dropped her arms and fretted over him. He tried to appreciate her attention.

“Oh, and now I’ve dragged you into our problems too!” Akane cried. “We can just forget about everything today if you want to. It wasn’t right of me to ask something like that of you anyway.”

“To sleep with your fiance?” Ryoga deadpanned.

Akane flushed. “Well, yes. You barely ate dinner. I’m sorry, I just thought, after this afternoon . . .”

Rather than answer her, Ryoga sat down on the dojo floor. He huddled his knees, holding himself close, trying to recall the comfort he felt as a little pig cradled in her arms. She sat down beside him. He leaned towards her warmth, close enough to touch but not quite yet.

“After middle school, I went to China. It was my first time leaving the country. I knew I’d get more lost than I ever was. I should’ve been scared.”

It was Ryoga’s turn to take a deep, steadying breath. The journey back home was rough because he partially had to do it as a pig, but the journey getting there was just as bad. Every little tip and trick that his parents had taught him about survival, he practiced. Every slight kindness from a stranger, every penny he found, every bite of food he managed to scrounge felt like divine grace. The experience had taught him a lot about the kind of perseverance that was expected from a martial artist. He learned how to test the limits of his power and surpass them.

Falling into the spring changed everything. He felt helpless, and more than that, he felt ashamed. Ryoga didn’t want Ranma to find out about his new weakness. But the thought of fighting him now that he had grown taller, stronger, and bolder, coupled with heartsick delusions of Ranma looking at him with excitement and pride . . . somehow, it outweighed the fear.

“I told myself: If I don’t do this, I’ll never see Ranma again. Then the decision was easy,” Ryoga confessed. Even now, the thought made him smile, ever so slightly. “I never thought about why.”

Akane caught on quick. She was wide-eyed. “Until today.”

Ryoga fiddled with his fingers, struggling to find the words. “And now I don’t know what to do. What can I do, now that I know how I feel? That’s why I said sorry earlier. I should’ve just wanted to help you, but I was being selfish too.”

“It’s not like anything happened yet,” Akane joked. It fell flat. She sighed and leaned back, her head hitting the wall with a dull thunk. “I’m not going to pretend this doesn’t concern me, Ryoga. I really thought I was done fighting off every other person that fell in love with Ranma.”

“I’m not going to fight you,” Ryoga argued, coming off more tired than he meant to sound. “And I’m not in love with Ranma.”

“Don’t say that, you sound like me,” Akane said.

God, what a mess.

“But I wasn’t kidding this afternoon either. About being willing to do anything to make Ranma happy,” Akane clarified. “I’m not taking back our offer. Our problem still hasn’t changed. I still think you can help. I still trust you with him. So if you want to do it, I’m not going to stop you.”

Ryoga’s jaw dropped. “That’s insane! I just told you I had feelings for your fiance! It wouldn’t just be a one-and-done deal with me, I would want to do it with him over and over! Maybe I’d even want more! You’re telling me you’re okay with that?”

Akane was rapidly turning red. “It’s fine if it’s you! I’ve had enough time to come to terms with it!”

“Enough time?” He stared at her incredulously. “How long have you been planning this?”

“Oh, just — just talk to Ranma already!” Akane stood up so rapidly that Ryoga almost fell on his side. He was still blinking up at her as she stomped away, muttering to herself like a witch casting a curse. “Stupid Ranma . . . could have at least given me some support . . . dummies, the both of them . . .”

Once again, Ryoga was lost. “Uh, Akane? Are we cleaning out the dojo now?”

The doors slammed shut.

Ryoga grimaced. Guess he’d be doing it alone.

It was already nearing midnight by the time that Ryoga found his way to the guest room. Ranma, changed back to his male form, was already sprawled out. The futon that lay down beside him was clean and strikingly devoid of the usual panda fur. The image of Ranma spending all that time brushing out his father’s beddings for Ryoga’s comfort was almost enough to make his heart melt.

Ryoga took a moment to admire the moonlight on Ranma’s skin before kicking his exposed leg. “Oi. I know you’re awake.”

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” Ranma said. He kept his eyes closed. “Shouldn’t you be off spending even more time with my fiance? I really got to ask Akari sometime about how to keep pigs in their pens. Some things just ought to be caged in, don’t you think?”

Ryoga ignored the bait. “You gonna tell me what’s really going on?”

Ranma groaned. “Can’t this wait ‘til the morning?”

“Whatever you’re making Akane put up with, it’s messing with her head and mine,” Ryoga said hotly. “No more games, Ranma. I would have thought we’d grown past that.”

The other boy glared at him with bleary eyes. “Fine. But I’m not getting up again. Get over here.”

“You’re just trying to get me to fall asleep.”

“Keep your eyes open then, idiot.” Ranma had the nerve to smirk at him. “I could wake you up.”

Ryoga was trying very, very hard not to understand the implications of those words as he settled on the futon. He stubbornly chose to sit up instead of lie down beside the other boy, mindful enough to make sure there were a few inches between them. It couldn’t hurt to be too cautious — Ranma was of a wily sort that pounced on the slightest whiff of weakness. Ryoga was just protecting himself, that’s all. It was too hot in this room for closeness anyway.

“You said you’d talk,” Ryoga said stiffly. “So talk.”

Ranma huffed, so Akane-like that it caught Ryoga off-guard. “Well. Akane sent you a letter. Talked to you all day. I don’t know what you don’t know, at this point.”

There was a flush creeping up on Ranma’s neck that Ryoga was a little transfixed by. Then he frowned, processing what the other boy wasn’t saying. “Are you jealous? Seriously?”

“No,” Ranma stressed, outraged, which was Ranma-speak for yes.

The fucking bastard. Ryoga didn’t know whether he should laugh or cry. Anger spiked in him like old thorns, laced with frustration and shame and all the poisonous things that the other boy made too damned easy to feel.

“You’re a disaster. No wonder you can’t get it up for Akane,” he sneered, feeling a sick satisfaction in the way Ranma’s face fell. “No wonder she had to come crawling to me for help. You can’t do it, can’t satisfy her the way she wants to be, because you’re not man enough to take what you have—”

“Who’s the one playing games now?” Ranma said softly. Dangerously. Almost like he was hurt.

That was always the problem with Ranma when he was a boy. The girl was cute, a means of disarming, a quick attack in disguise. The boy was hard, cool, and strong enough that every small barb felt like a ticking time-bomb. It was the boy that Ryoga imagined in his head when he thought of the Ranma he wanted to defeat; the one that stole his heart, all those years ago.

Ryoga scoffed, but he backed down anyway. “You. It’s always you. You drive me insane.”

Like he wanted to prove it, Ranma took Ryoga’s hand and curled the thick, calloused fingers around his throat. He looked up at him beneath his lashes, and when he spoke, Ryoga could feel the low rumble of his voice vibrating on his skin.

“You give me too much credit,” Ranma whispered.

All of a sudden, it was too much for Ryoga, whose fury transformed into an entirely different kind of tension. The moonlight, the blue, and all this touching. He didn’t know how to navigate between their old ire and this new, torturous teasing. He didn’t want to know.

Ryoga tightened his hold slightly, experimentally, and he committed the way Ranma’s breath hitched to memory.

This is a Ranma that knows the touch of a woman, Ryoga thought, a bit crazed. Everything about that should have bothered him more than it did: that someone had gotten to him before he had even mustered the courage; the fact that it was sweet, precious Akane; that Ranma had, once again, beaten him to the finish line. Instead, he was tracing the lines of Ranma’s neck from his collarbone to the back of his head. As he snaked his other arm possessively around Ranma’s small waist, Ryoga wondered if the other boy had been marked before. He wondered if Ranma would let him be the first.

It looked like he might. At that moment, clear and bright, Ranma looked like the stuff of Ryoga’s dreams: eyes blown, clothes rumpled, face naked with desire. It made a lightbulb switch on above his head.

“It was you,” Ryoga breathed. “You want me to fuck you.”

Ranma froze.

Ryoga swallowed. “I’m right, aren’t I? All — this, whatever this is — you want me. Even though you already have—”

“Akane knows, alright?” Ranma exploded. The air between them was charged, but of a different sort now. Ryoga gritted his teeth as the other boy pushed him off with a great shove; so they were going back to this. “She knows, of course she knows. I was always shit at hiding things from her. Maybe you think I refused to touch her on purpose. You think I begged on my knees asking for the chance to have you? To hurt her? I bet you do. But she wrote you on her own, she met you on her own, she dragged you here on her own!

”When she walked through that door with you, so giddy to tell me that I had a shot, that she wanted me to take it . . . I thought she was out of her mind. So I tested the waters, see how you’d react to me being close with you.” Ranma laughed, dark and piteous. “And imagine that — a pig at a free dinner, refusing to eat. I told Akane she was wrong. She had to be. She didn’t take it well.

“I thought I’d egg you on, get things back to normal. That’s real comfy, yeah? We’re used to fighting. I could spend the rest of my life fighting you.” Ryoga watched Ranma pause for a deep, harrowing breath, feeling like his heart was shattering over and over again. “Anyway, I got Akane. You got Akari. All for the better that you don’t want me back.”

Ryoga shook his head. Quietly, he said, “I left Akari. She’s nice and all, really sweet. But I just wanted to come back here.”

Ranma snorted. “Look where that got ‘ya.”

“Don’t make fun of my feelings.” Ryoga glared, and the other boy glared back with just as much heat. “Don’t you dare put down Akane like that, when she was just trying to make you happy.”

“And look where that got me!” Ranma screamed. His chest was heaving so much, it was a wonder the force of it didn’t topple him over. “I made her angry, I made you angry, I made myself angry, and for what? For me to touch you, and betray the only girl I ever loved? For you to touch me, only so you could confirm your worst suspicions of me? Because if that’s what you want, Ryoga . . .”

No, Ryoga thought desperately, not like this. But Ranma was already pushing him down, straddling his waist, shaking violently the whole time.

“If you want to wreck me, I’ll let you do it. Right now. Then it’ll be over,” Ranma said, his voice raw. He looked foolishly close to tears. “I’ll get it out of my system. And after that, you’ll never have to see me again.”

“Hey,” Ryoga protested weakly, as the other boy fiddled down there and Ryoga tried very, very hard not to like it. He was not succeeding. “Ranma, wait—”

Bright, fluorescent yellow suddenly blinded them both.

“Ranmaaa,” a familiar voice growled.

There in the hallway, like an avenging angel, stood an absolutely furious Tendo Akane.

Dimly, Ryoga felt a faint sense of deja vu. During the koi rod incident, Akane had opened his tent to find Ryoga and Ranma in a compromising position just like this. They were switched now: instead of Ryoga ripping open a girl Ranma’s shirt to expose his breasts, it was a boy Ranma with his hand sneaking down Ryoga’s pants. Their shocked expressions were probably the same, though he didn’t recall Akane looking quite so angry.

Ranma, panicked out his gloomy reverie, resorted to old tactics. “It’s not what it looks like, I swear!”

“I don’t care!” Akane shouted. “If you’re going to fight or fuck or both, whatever. Just don’t do it so loudly while other people are trying to sleep!”

Ryoga squirmed, very conscious of the fact that he still had Ranma on top of him. “Um, maybe you should care a little bit? He’s still your fiance? We haven’t exactly come to an agreement.”

“Fine! The three of us will talk it over tomorrow morning,” she snapped.

Ranma opened his mouth, ready to argue, but the glower that Akane aimed his way cowed him.

“You’re lucky I love you so much, Saotome Ranma,” Akane said.

Ranma squeaked. “I love you very much too?”

“And you,” Akane pointed at Ryoga, who yelped in alarm. “You better be sure about what you’re getting into. Or, more accurately, who. We might be the biggest idiots in Japan for falling in love with this dummy, but two is better than one when it comes to handling him, don’t you think?”

Ryoga flushed. “I haven’t exactly told him yet. About, ah, all that.”

Ranma narrowed his eyes, looking between Akane and Ryoga with disbelief. “Are you two keeping secrets from me?”

“Tomorrow,” Akane repeated, exasperated, and slammed the doors back shut.

By silent agreement, Ryoga and Ranma slept facing away from each other that night.

Ryoga still stayed awake for another hour. His body refused to forget the way Ranma had settled so nicely on his lap, the pliant manner of how Ranma melted into his touch, the vulnerability of Ranma guiding his clumsy hands on his slender neck. If that was all he would get, he could work with it, Ryoga thought sleepily. He was no stranger to living off scraps. He drifted off with dreams of blue, blue, blue . . .

Dawn rose with a bright glare through the windows, an empty space by his side where Ranma should’ve been. Ryoga fixed his futon while planning where his next travels would be, assuming he lived. Miyazaki perhaps, or Hokkaido. Just as long as it was far, far away from here.

He trudged to the dining room with the air of a criminal facing the gallows. Ryoga was grimly determined to enjoy his final meal.

“Ryoga, good morning!” Akane greeted cheerily — the wonders of a good night’s rest. “You’re just in time. Ranma just finished making breakfast. Is miso soup good for you?”

Where Akane was warm and inviting, Ranma was cool and closed off. The other boy’s expression was carefully blank as he handed Ryoga his bowl and chopsticks. It was very unfair of him, Ryoga felt, especially when his insides felt like they were on fire just by virtue of having Ranma in his sights. He focused on his food. One, because it was really very good, and Ryoga felt that Ranma could give Kasumi a run for her money if he really wanted to. Two, because he had the feeling that Ranma would lure him into a spiral and punch him straight out of the stratosphere if he got distracted for even the tinest moment. Three, because Akane was staring at him, and he wanted to avoid her piercing gaze for as long as he could.

To think, once upon a time, Ryoga would have burned for her attention. Now he had it, and he wanted her fiance’s instead. Fate loved her cruel ironies.

Ranma stood. “I’m gonna take care of the dishes.”

Akane dragged him back by the pigtail, making the boy-girl fall to the floor with a faint guh. “You’re not using the dishes to get away from us this time, and I’m not holding off our families for another day. So talk, dummy.”

“What’s there to talk about?” Ranma groused, rubbing his head. “Nothing’s changed. I told you: Ryoga hates me, and I’m happy with you, ‘Kane. No need for all this stupid fussing.”

“And is that true, Ryoga?” Akane raised an eyebrow. “Do you hate him?”

She knew damn well the answer, but if the events of last night weren’t enough to humiliate him, he might as well take the full plunge. In for a penny, in for a pound, right? He could never refuse Akane, not for anything. Ryoga sighed deeply. “No, I don’t hate him. In fact, I probably would have lost control and slept with him if you hadn’t barged in.”

Akane nodded, but Ranma gaped at him. “What the — tell me that’s not true. You’re lying.” He turned to his fiance with a childish pout, pointing at Ryoga accusingly. “He’s lying, Akane! We’ve got to fix him. He’s been cursed!”

Akane gave him a look that plainly said this is your problem.

Ryoga abruptly realized that confessions of love came much easier to him in the right mood. Gentle laughter in the kitchen, or maybe even the heat of passion bathed by moonlight would have been better. Instead, what he got was suspicious frowns and blank stares from the two people he liked most. He might have had more confidence standing buck naked in the middle of a crowd. He definitely would have felt braver if he had been told to repeat another lonesome backpack journey through China.

He swallowed, reaching into the depths of his courage. If I don’t do this, I’ll never see Ranma again.

“I’m not cursed,” Ryoga said, because that was good way to start. “I’m not lying. The truth is that I’ve realized some things about myself that I didn’t know until Akane talked to me yesterday. I’ve got feelings I didn’t think I had. And I’ve got feelings for her too, but it’s a different kind of feeling. It’s different.”

Ryoga made sure to look directly at Ranma: “You’re . . . different.”

Ranma’s eyes widened. Akane smiled, and that told Ryoga he was on the right track.

“I don’t have the right words. I don’t have the right timing. But if you give me a chance, the both of you, then I want to make you happy,” Ryoga reached out, taking Ranma’s still outstretched hand in his own. “Not just for a night. For as long as you’ll have me.”

The other boy was faintly pink, but he scowled anyway. “’Ya just wanna pork me,” Ranma muttered.

Ryoga glared back. “This all started because you told Akane you wanted to pork me. Unbelievable. Your own fiance! Did you ever even think about how she would feel?”

“You have my full support, as long as I get to watch,” declared Akane, which effectively silenced them both. Ranma and Ryoga blushed as she laughed. “A million times, Ranma. I think I told you a million times that your rivalry with Ryoga was more intense than what a normal rivalry ought to be, and you denied it to me every single time. I win.”

“Why you—” Ranma blustered, ready for another bout of his signature explosive denial, and Akane kissed him on the cheek in consolation. He deflated. “Yeah, alright, whatever.”

Ryoga’s heart was stuck in his throat. Twiddling his thumbs, he shyly asked, “Can I . . . ?”

“Have at it,” Akane chirped. “It’s very fun.”

Before he could lose his nerve, and before Ranma could squawk indignantly and run away to the mountains, Ryoga leaned over and kissed Ranma on his other cheek. Reachable, touchable, possible. He was softer than he looked.

Blue blinked at him, big and dewy and wanting. “Do that again,” Ranma demanded.

“No,” Ryoga said, taking delight at watching Ranma somehow turn even redder. “You’re the one that said it wasn’t a crime to be honest with what I want. So I’m telling you: say you like me back. Come on, you bastard, spit it out. You’re dying to.”

This was gonna be music to his ears. Ryoga smirked, the thrill of kissing the other boy getting to his head, already thinking of all the various ways Ranma would confess. Akane, he was sure, got confessed to in the gentle rain; it was only right for her sweet demeanor. (Ryoga was ignorant to the fact that it was, as with all matters Ranma and Akane, in the middle of a fight.) Which Ranma would he get today? Haughty and boastful, ready to declare his love to the rooftops? Shy and hesitant, stammering through his words? Or even, he dared to imagine, the slow and languorous Ranma that he had last night, yearning for his touch before it all went wrong?

Somewhere in that realm of delusional fantasies, he should have expected Ranma to suddenly take a giant leap and violently tackle him to the floor. Tactful Akane carried their bowls and plates to the kitchen, giggling all the while as she escaped.

“You,” Ranma breathed harshly above him, “have no idea what I’ve been through.”

This was not the right time for a nervous fit of chuckles, but Ryoga did so anyway. “You mentioned a little bit of it. Something about wanting me and wanting Akane at the same time. Which I do understand slightly, I would think.”

With a growl, Ranma grabbed him by the shirt. His eyes were wild. There were flecks of green in them. “Akane’s still my fiance.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ryoga was getting annoyed. “Relax about it.”

“And you . . . ” Ranma licked his lips. “You want me anyway. This. Whatever this is.”

The puzzle pieces clicked into place. This Ranma was scared beyond his wits, lashing out in his fright. Ryoga knew something about being afraid. He also knew something about the importance of taking that step forward despite it.

This time, he used both of his arms to lock Ranma in place. To hold him. He buried his face in the other boy’s neck, feeling with his mouth what he had previously only known with his fingertips, the shape of Ranma when he let all of his defenses down. Ranma leaned into his touch, and that — that was victory enough for now. He finally understood that Akane's grace meant he had enough time to wait for more. They, the three of them together, could figure out the rest at some other hazy and far-off tomorrow.

Right at that moment, clear and bright, what mattered was this:

“I want you,” Ryoga said, simple as that.

“Okay,” Ranma said, a bit shakily. “Good. Good. Because you’re not getting lost on me again. On either of us.”

Things were changing, and like a dream, it finally looked like the odds were in Ryoga’s favor.