PrincessFelicie

This chapter's been in the works since late August. I deeply apologize for the time it took to complete it, 2020 has been... a year, both in terms of worldly events and personal happenings.
I doubly apologize in that this chapter merely sets up the table for future events. Please keep your expectations low.
Remember back in chapter one (in my Ao3 author notes), when I pledged to myself this would be my relaxed writing, where I wouldn't let my perfectionist expectations balloon everything out of proportion to anxiety levels? My one goal for the near future will be to go back to that. If it means this story will take a hit in quality... well, my mental health is more important.
Despite everything, I hope you enjoy the read, and a happy 2021 to you all.

You ever get that feeling while looking into a mirror, like what is reflected couldn’t possibly be your actual face? Like what’s behind the glass is misshapen, asymmetrical; more of a beast than a man?

Ryoga knew that feeling well. Every morning, he had a ritual. He would splash a bit of water on himself, then, looking into the mirror, he would stare at his face, and attempt to pinpoint what about it felt wrong. Sometimes it was the drooping ears, or the squished nose, maybe that big splash of dark hue around his eye, or maybe how his usual fang seemed malformed into an unsightly tusk. The longer he stared, the less real it seemed. And the less real it was, the easier a time he had dissociating the beast in the mirror from the body he existed in.

And once he was properly prepped for the day, he would take the scalding bath that would put everything back to what it was supposed to be. Of course, even once he was human again, he hated what he saw in the mirror, but he chalked it up to feelings from the session just lingering around.

Once done with cleaning up, he dragged his feet to the living room and sat down next to Ranma. Yawning, he idly reached for the bowls of rice Kasumi always put at the breakfast table, then blinked in confusion as he found a baguette in his hand instead. “Hey Ranma, did we opt for a French breakfast today?”

“Y’a un problème, Roland?” Ranma turned to face Ryoga, startling the latter as he spotted the twirly moustache on his best friend’s face.

Genma stomped in, shouting at the top of his lungs. “Ranmaaa! Tu as osé dévorer le croissant que je me gardais pour ce matin, et pour ça tu vas payer, mon garçon!” He lunged at his son, Ryoga barely dodging out of the way in time.

Ranma grabbed Genma’s hands in his, and they wrestled, sidestepping along as they pushed one another until they were right up the edge to the Tendo’s pond. Ranma kicked his father in the face, stunning him just long enough to throw him into the cold water. “Hahahahah! J’espère que ça te servira de leçon!” Ranma taunted.

Genma emerged in a full mime outfit and raised his hand, holding an invisible sign.

“Ranma Vincent!” Another voice struck from nearby. Ryoga turned his head to spot Tatewaki standing atop one of the walls, brandishing his wooden sword high up above his head, his usual outfit replaced with a striped shirt and trousers held by suspenders. “Où caches-tu donc la belle demoiselle aux cheveux rouges!? Je t’ordonne de la relâcher immédiatement, vilain, parce que Julian Storme est venu t’occire!”

“Eep!” Ranma bounced away and into the city, pursued by the oddly dressed Kuno. Since when was he Ranma’s enemy?

Filled with questions, Ryoga made his way to Akane’s bedroom. “Akane, what the hell is going on? Why is everyone speaking French all of a sudden?”

Akane stirred out from under her covers, yawned and carefully listened to Ryoga’s rambling. 

Then she grabbed her béret on her nightstand, and looked at him like he was just an acquaintance. “Roland Matthieu? Qu’est ce que tu fais là? Ce n’est pas Ranma qui t’intéresse, d’habitude?”

Ryoga stared at her puzzled. Was… Roland Matthieu supposed to be him? That felt like such an awful fit. From what little he knew about French names, that was two (very masculine) first names, and that bugged him quite a lot. “Wait, am I…?”

He looked at the skeleton with a beet for a head in the corner behind the door. “This is a dream, yes,” the skeleton said on his behalf, before growing another pair of legs and scuttling out.

In retrospect, Ryoga felt like he could’ve put that together earlier from how easy a time he’d had heading where he meant to go without getting lost.

A small black shape on Akane’s bed started stirring. One long black ear poked out, then another. A small pink snout sniffed the air around it, and the shape stretched and yawned, before locking gaze with Ryoga.

It was a little piglet, with striking, expressive blue eyes and a pink collar adorned with a heart. For some reason, Ryoga’s breath caught in his throat. Looking at the adorable creature felt like staring into a funhouse mirror.

Akane looked down and smiled at it. “Bien dormi, Charlotte?”

Charlotte? The little piglet was a girl?

Ryoga opened his eyes to find himself staring at the ceiling of the dojo. He groaned, straightening up and pushing his blanket off of himself. 

What a weird dream that had been, and he remembered all of it, too. Quite frankly, he never understood people that said they couldn’t remember their dreams when they woke up; that always felt to him like stuff that only ever happened in poorly written fanfictions with copious amounts of plot convenience.

…Not that he read any. Officially.

And while he was at it, he wondered how he had dreamed in a language he barely understood in the first place.

It seemed like he had slept in a fair bit. Reflexively he looked to his right hoping to find Ranma’s empty bed, but Ranma had long since gone back to sleeping in the upper floor’s bedroom now that it had been repaired. Ryoga spread his arms and let himself lie down, feeling lonely. He still had to get up and go do his ritual — in the real world this time.

…

No. He didn’t have it in him to do it a second time this morning. And he didn’t feel like wallowing anymore. As much as he felt incredibly safe when he was with Ranma, that had only served to rekindle his drive. It was time he went back on the road to find a cure to his condition. Getting up, he started packing his bag.

“Ya… bamboo brained…” Ranma huffed, falling behind on his dad’s morning training route. “…overgrown racoon!”

Genma, still taking long, jumping steps, threw a glance behind his back to scold his son. “Ranma! Don’t you slow down, now!”

As much as his desire to throw a jab right in his old man’s stomach was as good a motivation as any, there was little Ranma could do against the sheer weight of the ball and chain adorning his ankle. “Ya… tricked me! Stuck this thing on me while I was asleep!”

Genma growled, intent on keeping pace. “Quit your whining, boy! As heir to the Saotome School of Anything Goes Martial Arts, you’ve got expectations to fulfil! Nothing short of this would suffice—” His rant interrupted by an old lady dutifully sprinkling water on the road, Ranma was left behind by a bouncing panda.

“No good… double standards… You’re not the one with this thing stuck on ya!” He grumbled to himself, his complaints not even able to reach long gone deaf ears. 

“Why do I let Dad mistreat me like this…?” A worried voice at the back of his mind asked with a tone of genuine concern.

“Not now, you!”

“International delivery service!” A polite mailman called out from the front door of the Tendo residence. 

“Yes, coming!” Kasumi left the rest of her family to their breakfast, trotting out. She came back about thirty seconds later, a package and a letter in hand.

“And who’s that for?” Nabiki asked.

“Seems like it is for you, Nabiki-chan…” Kasumi took a look at the sender’s address. “Oh my! It’s from Shampoo-chan? There’s a letter with it too, but this one’s for Ranma-chan...”

“Shampoo… The little Chinese girl?” Soun mused, lifting his eyes from his newspaper. “Been peaceful around here since she left…” He took a sip of his coffee and went back to his reading. “Well. Relatively.”

Akane straightened herself, turning to Kasumi then to Nabiki. What business did she have with her sister? …Business might’ve been more apt a word than she expected, if the self-satisfied grin on her sister’s face was any indication.

“I’ll take that, thank you~” Nabiki gently grabbed the box out of Kasumi’s hands and headed upstairs.

“Remember Nabiki-chan, no staying home today, you need to catch up on the days you missed!” Kasumi called out before she was too far to hear. A groan was all they received as an acknowledgement of the reminder. 

With school back on her mind, Akane hoped Ranma would be home soon, they were supposed to go in just a handful of minutes. She raised an eyebrow as Kasumi started opening the letter. “Shouldn’t you wait until Ranma’s here before reading it?”

“Ah, well, you know…” Kasumi dodged the question with a bit of guilt coloring her cheeks, eyes scanning the paper line by line. “Is Shampoo planning to send Ranma-chan a pet?”

Now worried, Akane got up to read the letter herself, when she heard the telltale grumbling of Ranma’s arrival. “Stupid ol’ man! Ya can forget it, ya’int draggin’ me to stupid trainin’ like that ever again!” The rattling of a chain threw her off, but she supposed with Ranma stomping over she wouldn’t have to wait much longer for an answer.

Kasumi quickly folded the letter back into its envelope, then waited for the boy in red to show up around the corner. “Ah, Ranma-chan! There’s a letter for you from China.”

“Hmm?” Ranma snatched it between his index and middle fingers. He noted Akane was right behind Kasumi, sporting an inquisitive look on her face. Flipping the envelope and reading the name of its sender sent him back into the unpleasant memories of the day Akane’s memory was wiped. Admittedly it had been dulled a bit, just enough that he wouldn’t throw the letter away without reading it, but the weariness he felt for Shampoo was still very much present. His train of thought now complete, he noticed he was surrounded by curious human and ursidian faces (and a feeling at the back of his head) eager to know the content of the letter. “Alright, alright, ya eavesdroppers, I’m readin’ it, jeez.”

He carefully unfolded the message, revealing meticulously calligraphed Japanese.

‘My beloved,

I wish to meet with you soon to apologize in person for my conduct. Though, I must ask in advance, what are your feelings on C A T S—

With a single word Ranma felt as if his skeleton would’ve fled right out of his skin if it had been able. His hands shook in terror at the thought of these horrible, feline beasts... All… claws and teeth, and… those dark, evil filled eyes… 

He felt his dad shift behind him and turned for a second. Genma’s ears flopped back, the panda equally able to read the gravity of the situation. Ranma grimaced — after all this was just another thing the old man was at fault for — and went back to reading the letter.

‘Though, I must ask in advance, what are your feelings on cats? I wish I had had the opportunity to consult you first, but I fear I may have a situation on my hands that I hope you can help with.

Shampoo’

“That damn gal…” Ranma muttered, crumpling the letter.

“What’s wrong?” Akane asked.

Genma butted in, waving his arms around and producing penitent growls.

One teapot later, which had left the girls enough time to put their uniform on and for Nabiki to come back downstairs, Akane shifted her eyes to the clock in the corner. Depending on how quick the explanations would be, they could still make it to school in time.

Genma, with a grave look on his face, peered at the rest of the crowd surrounding the chabudai, before raising his hands above his head. Akane tilted her head for a moment, unsure where he was going with this, before he did something she could never have expected out of him in a million years, something so seemingly out of character that her jaw dropped: Genma had prostrated in apology. “This… Is my single biggest failure as a parent. It is the one time I irredeemably harmed my son, that I could never be sorry enough for.”

Kasumi started counting something on her fingers.

Akane, for her part, stared at the man for a moment. On the one hand, it was good that he did have standards enough to apologize at some level, on the other, she dreaded how impossibly horrible the event he was about to describe could be that it’d have tripped those standards enough for Genma to recognize his fault.

“It all started with a training called the Nekoken,” Genma started.

“Freestyle Cat-Fist Fighting, or just Cat’s Fist, or Cat-Fu. It can be found under any of these names. It grants the trainee the power of an enraged cat, able to claw its way out of any situation. It was back when Ranma was but a young child, and I was desperate to impart him with immediate strength to defend himself with. I did it for my boy’s own safety, but it all but backfired.

“The training itself is simple, yet torturous. All that you require is to wrap the trainee’s body in dry sausages. Fish, beef, chicken, anything that a cat usually likes works. And then… you throw them into a closed room full of starved felines!”

“STOOOOOOP!!” Ranma screamed at the top of his lungs, wheezing and curling up into a ball. “Don’t remind me…!”

Genma produced an old, weathered tome from his sleeve. The green cover was stained by the elements, and the title was peeling off, ‘Forbidden Training Techniques’. He opened it to a specific page and handed it to Soun.

“‘Cat’s fist’,” Akane’s dad read aloud, while she read over his shoulder. “‘Wrap the trainee in fish sausage. Throw him into a pit full of hungry cats. Repeat with other sausages until the Cat’s Fist manifests. Warning: This is stupid. Who invented this? It’ll work, but only with a receptive soul. You better have an excellent reason to even justify attempting this.’”

An uneasy silence fell over the room. Akane found the state Ranma was in difficult to ignore, and it definitely sounded just as awful as Genma’s penitent state had prepared her for. Still, that begged to her a question — if Ranma was like this about cats, then what about Ranko…?

“You stupid ol’ man, this is all your fault!” Ranma muttered through gritted, chattering teeth. He breathed through his nose a few times to calm himself down, before holding his hand to his chest. “It’s okay… It’s okay… We’re safe, it’s okay…” 

Wait, which of the two was that? Akane had trouble telling for once. For now, she settled for assuming it affected both of them.

Genma hung his head low. “From this training, Ranma came out with a fear of cats. I spent two months afterwards trying to cure him of that fear, to no avail. I couldn’t spare any more time and had to resume his training.”

A boy in yellow showed up to the family reunion, his entire belongings strapped on his back. “Erm?” Ryoga said, looking across the room. “I was sure I was on my way to Kitakyushu…” he mumbled. “What’s going on?”

“We’re discussing Ranma’s fear of cats, apparently,” Akane informed him.

“Oh, that!” Ryoga nodded. “He’s had that for as long as I’ve known him. Why was it brought up?”

“Shampoo-chan intends to visit us it seems,” Kasumi said with a smile. She started to get up before quickly stopping herself. “Wait, did the letter give us a date?”

“Oh goodness…” Ranma —no, that was now definitely Ranko— muttered, “Shampoo can be so forgetful...”

“Well, if we’re done here…” Nabiki stood up, grabbing her school bag and pointing to the clock on the wall. Akane gasped and followed her lead, grabbing her own bag and Ranko’s hand on the way out.

With another joke from the homeroom teacher that only made himself laugh, the morning classes began with boring, administrative matters. Ranma rested his chin on his hand, staring blankly at the blackboard.

“I had completely forgotten about all this…” the voice in his head piped up. “I know I said it this morning already, but shouldn’t we stand up against Dad with a little more… conviction?”

He’d had this conversation with her before. All it inspired was a sigh. “Dad ain’t perfect, I ain’t sayin’ otherwise, but try raisin’ a kid alone on the streets don’t cha? We’re fed, clothed, strong willed, he must’a done somethin’ right. What would you know about it? I don’t remember ya bein’ there before Jusenkyo. You’re probably just a part of the curse or somethin’.”

As usual, that shut the voice up a little, making her feel self conscious.“I mean… I remember the Pit.”

Both shuddered in recollection. Piercing eyes everywhere, their skin covered in claw marks, the scent of meat replaced by the feel of bites. “Awful,” they thought in unison.

Ranma paused for a second. “But… If ya remember that, then… who’re ya?”

The voice bounced a little in joy. Finally, something that felt like progress.“I’m…!” The sentiment evaporated just as quickly as it came, replaced with confusion and an odd sadness. “I’m Ranma. I think.”

“Ya don’t sound too sure.” Ranma chuckled internally, relaxing in his chair. “Pretty obvious ya can’t be though, cuz that’s me.”

There was a lull in the conversation, the other voice thinking. “But if you’re Ranma… Who am I?”

“Oi, that’s the exact question I asked ya, ya memory-failing brain ghost!”

Later at lunch, Akane made her way through a bento purchased at the school cafeteria, while she found herself reflecting on her feelings on the rumors she still expected were running through the school. In a way, she was still stressed about the prospect of people assuming she was attracted to women… but it certainly was harder now that there was maybe a sliver of truth to that. …Maybe. Very maybe. Potentially. Who knew.

One thing that she knew was right was that people had stopped thinking Ranma was gay. His renewed insistence on his man amongst men pledge, and the lower frequency of apparitions from Ranko had been contributing factors to a straight image he projected.

Though, with the insider knowledge that this facade was mostly to prevent himself from self-reflecting, it just made it a bit of a sad display instead. Even now, Ranma seemed lost in thought, with an intense and unapproachable look on his face. Better to leave him at it.

Akane silently grumbled, she didn’t want to have this on her mind anymore. There were more pressing issues, like Shampoo’s upcoming visit at an unspecified time.

With a yawn and a stretch, Akane stood up and headed back towards the cafeteria to hand in her meal’s empty container. She weaved through the crowd of students going to and fro, loitering in huddled groups or heading in various directions, before spotting a curious face in the crowd: Tatewaki’s, who she was certain was supposed to still be resting in a hospital. The boy spotted her back just as quickly and made his approach.

“Oh, my! If it isn’t my good quite heterosexual friend, Akane! How do you do, fellow straight?” He hailed conspiratorially.

Akane stood flabbergasted for a moment, before shaking her head and sighing. The man had mastered the art of inept timing. “It goes, I suppose.”

Tatewaki frowned and started to walk in the same direction as her. “Now, one might say it is but an inkling, but you seem… troubled.”

“Really? What gave that away?” Akane said sarcastically.

“Why, the swiftness of your steps of course!” That did give her pause for a bit as she took note of it herself. That wasn’t the first hint she would’ve expected him to pick up on, but it wasn’t one she was aware of herself, and it didn’t seem related to his presence. “Is there anything troubling your, erm, courteously amicable damsel conspirator Ranko?”

If that was his definition of acting like she was straight, she felt like that would give it away even faster than his ostentatious flag demonstration from a while back. She wondered how it was even possible to find such a non-straight string of words. More importantly, she had to think. Was Tatewaki’s help really an offer she wanted to take? His had a tendency to backfire after all, case in point this entire exchange so far. She weighed and weighed it for a bit. At the very least, she couldn’t see what she had to lose. At worst hear some bad advice she could disregard? She started to explain. “I suppose… Shampoo — the girl that gave you a beating — is coming back soon. She’s got a crush on Ran…” she looked around for a moment, before whispering for Tatewaki’s ears only. “Ranko. The issue is we think she might be planning to bring a cat with her, and it seems Ranko is deathly afraid of them...”

“I see,” Tatewaki replied. He seemed uncharacteristically thoughtful for a moment, before he crossed his arms and straightened his back. “‘A mind unruffled by the vagaries of fortune, from sorrow freed, from defilements cleansed, from fear liberated — this is the greatest blessing.’ The Buddha, Mangala Sutta. Akane, please bring noble Ranko to my house after classes.”

“...Excuse me?”

Tatewaki raised his hand to her face, his eyes full of a mysterious purpose. “I’m afraid I cannot talk any longer. I have a lot of preparations to make. May I see you tonight, Akane Tendo!” Without missing a beat, Tatewaki dashed out the school’s entrance, leaving his opened shoe locker’s hinges softly swinging in his wake.

“That’s… that’s probably no good.” Akane muttered to herself.

Ryoga grumbled, crumpling up another failed attempt at a map to Jusenkyo as he found himself at another intersection that didn’t match what he had jotted down. And he’d been so careful to write as many details as possible this time, too! Right next to this fire hydrant was a three-way fork in the road, each eventually heading towards Tokyo Disneyland, France, and south-south-north, respectively. How could it have possibly failed?

Well, his next step was to figure out where he was, then. He took a look at his surroundings. The architecture seemed to say he was still in Nerima, but he’d never set foot on this specific road before, as far as he could recall, which wasn’t saying much. His feet just had a habit of moving wherever they wanted to as his brain shut off, like it was trying to escape being left to simmer in its own thoughts.

This time, he was really ready to leave for the time being. He wasn’t aiming to escape this place that he loved so — he genuinely wanted to reach Jusenkyo once more and get rid of his condition.

His stomach growled as he realized he hadn’t eaten breakfast, and that it was even past lunch time by now. He wandered aimlessly until the smell of cooking caught his nose, emanating from an unassuming family ramen restaurant sandwiched between a residence and a furniture shop. After fishing out a few yen coins from his pocket, he decided to head in.

The door bumped against a bell, which let out a pleasant sounding chime. “Hii! Welcome to Nekohanten! What can waitress do for… Pig boy?”

PrincessFelicie

With a big shoutout to Trismegistus Shandy, the Saffron system, Morgan, Holly, Felicia and plenty others I know I'm forgetting, for editing, mental support, helping keep my flame kindled, etc.

Come visit my writing discord server at http://discord.gg/VDVMVrc if you wish to directly share me some kind words. We're an inclusive community of neurodivergent queer folks.