Chapter 3. Monday, July 4

Ranma stood next to Kuno Tatewaki in a white wedding dress, holding a bouquet of flowers. Kuno-senpai was beaming down at him. He was dressed in a black tuxedo, and the two were standing in front of a priest in a small chapel. They had apparently just finished saying their vows, and the priest was saying, “You may now kiss the bride.” Kuno-senpai leaned in and…  Ranma woke up with a start, sweating and breathing heavily.

“What the hell!” he exclaimed, sitting up. On the one hand, he was relieved it had only been a dream. On the other hand, the idea of marrying Kuno was… well, it was just wrong on so many levels. He shuddered at the thought. His heart sunk further as he realized that while that nightmare was over, the ongoing horror of being stuck in his female form was still very much present.

As he processed the dream and got back to reality, he’d moved to sitting on the edge of the futon. Much as he had the night before, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. The young woman looking back at him had a worried expression on her face. Ranma applied some self control and brought calm to the face that stared back at him. As she sat there, unadorned in her simple sleep shirt, this young woman looked pretty, in a simple sort of way. The young woman smiled back at him.

Something in him snapped and he turned away. “I am Ranma Saotome,” he declared firmly, “and that will always be true!”

He turned back to the girl in the mirror. He’d hoped she’d look powerful and in control, but instead she looked unhappy. If she’d been someone else, he might have feared she was on the verge of tears. Ranma closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind and center himself once more. When he opened them, the young woman in the mirror told him, “Akane is a girl and she manages just fine. Get over yourself, Ranma.”

Ranma laughed at the absurdity of talking to his reflection like that, but at the same time, he felt a little better. Encouraged, he decided to try to think about his situation logically.

Cologne was a significant adversary, perhaps the biggest challenge he’d faced. He needed a new angle, some way to catch her out. As he’d said the night before, he needed to turn his current situation to his advantage… somehow. He definitely needed to hone his skills in this body, that was for sure. Normally, he’d just be trying to quickly extricate himself from whatever fighting situation he was in so he could return to his male form and the advantages that came with it. But maybe he could learn some new tricks, train hard, properly master this body rather than just treating it like a silly costume. That would be an investment worth making; something he could continue to use once this was all over. But to train well, he needed time and focus, and if he couldn’t escape the chaos that followed him everywhere, that time would never come. He thought briefly about heading out into the country, away from everyone, where he could train without the constant disruption.

But then another idea occurred to him. Sometimes when an opponent threw a punch at you, you didn’t brace yourself against the blow, you followed the motion of the punch, exaggerating its force while reducing its impact, and when you did that, your opponent would be taken by surprise, perhaps even overbalanced. Yes, he could see the shape of a plan. It was an audacious idea that exemplified the Anything Goes style. Do the thing that most people wouldn’t do. Zig when they zag. It might not be easy, but he was confident in his ability to pull it off. It wasn’t that much different from things he’d done before. He could run this gauntlet and come out the other side with another victory. Proof of his skill.

Feeling pleased to have a sense of a path forward, finally, Ranma got up and went to the bathroom to shower. Before he was done, he heard Akane once again encouraging him to hurry up so she could also get ready for school.

As they passed each other in the corridor, Ranma asked, “Hey, Akane, do you think you could help me with something?”

“Sure, what is it?” Akane replied, curious.

“Well, I might have to train for a week or two to defeat Cologne, so I’m gonna have to get used to this form for a bit. So, uh, I was wondering if, uh, anyone had a spare school uniform I could borrow. Just to… you know… blend in better.”

Akane looked at him, surprised. “You want to wear a girl’s school uniform?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, wondering what shenanigans Ranma was up to now.

“It’s not like that!” Ranma replied quickly, trying to sound serious. “I just thought it might be a way to be a bit under the radar, get in fewer fights, that kind of thing, but, uh, if you don’t have one, it’s no big deal.”

“Well,” Akane said after a moment, “We’re not exactly the same size now, but I do have an old one from a couple of years ago that might fit you. You can borrow it, but don’t go ruining it or anything.”

“I’ll do my best not to,” Ranma replied, relieved. “I mean, you don’t ruin yours, so if I can just try to manage the way you do, I think I’ll be okay. Thanks, Akane.”

Akane watched Ranma retreat to his room. Something was off, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Possibly it was just the outfit. She wouldn’t have expected to see Ranma wearing something cat-themed, given his pathological fear of cats. Especially with a cat that cute looking.

She was reminded of the story she’d been told about Ranma acquiring his Cat Fist technique. To hear Genma-san, his father, tell it, when Ranma was much younger, Genma had dropped him into a pit of hungry feral cats, covered in fish, causing the cats to surround and attack him. That was awful enough, but Genma laughed as he told them he’d had to do the whole thing several times before the phobia-driven ultra-violent fugue state manifested. He had to be kidding, and everyone else laughed about like it was just a tall tale. Except, she realized, Ranma.

True or not, the story was just more evidence that Ranma was used to taking things in his stride. This whole situation was a bit odd, but he’d be fine—he always muddled through, right? In fact, their discussion about the uniform was clear evidence that he was already getting a pretty good handle on things.

* * *

Akane was already at the breakfast table when Ranma’s voice came from the corridor. “I just want you all to know, I’m still Ranma Saotome, like, even if I’m in a different uniform. I’m still the same person, okay? I’m just trying to stay out of trouble and fly under the radar for a bit so I can get a chance to train. That’s all.”

And with that, she appeared in the doorway, wearing Akane’s old school uniform. It seemed to fit pretty well, but the overall effect was… weird. Akane had seen Ranma’s girl form in female clothes hundreds of times before, but they’d always been for show, always over the top, sometimes feeling like especially annoying attempts to outgirl her. But this Ranma looked like an ordinary, if slightly nervous, high-school girl.

Akane’s father Soun looked up from his newspaper. “Well, well, if it isn’t my future daughter-in-law,” he said with a smirk.

Ranma’s father—wearing his panda form despite the ready availability of hot water to reverse his own Jusenkyo curse—looked up and grunted. Whether the grunt meant approval or disapproval, Ranma couldn’t tell.

“Well, I gotta eat,” Ranma said, sitting down and quickly wolfing down his breakfast (some things obviously hadn’t changed). “And, uh, thanks for letting me borrow the uniform, Akane.”

* * *

Nabiki slipped out the door with a wave, and Kasumi found herself alone in the house. She finished wiping the table down for at least the third time that morning, then rinsed out the cloth and hung it up to dry. While she waited for the water to boil for tea, she gathered up yesterday’s newspapers and straightened out a few other things in the downstairs rooms.

Once her tea was ready, she took the mug and the papers with her and sat on the back porch. While she drank her tea, she worked through most of the logic puzzles in the paper.

This morning had been weird. Okay, weirder than usual. In some ways. She shook her head. The word “weird” had taken on a whole new meaning since Ranma and his deadbeat father had come to live with them.

She took another sip of tea. Ranma had been a bit off yesterday morning, and Dr. Tofu hadn’t been able to help him with the Cat’s Tongue pressure point that Cologne woman had used on him, although she had faith in him, even if he did behave somewhat oddly.

But this morning, Ranma had borrowed an old school uniform from Akane, and before he came into the dining room at breakfast, he’d made a little speech to, presumably, reassure their fathers about how he looked. That speech, though, gave her a turn. Ranma had been living with them for months now, but he, like his father, always used the most macho forms of Japanese speech, even when he looked like a girl. But this morning, he sounded exactly like any other girl, and in the uniform, with his hair down and brushed out, he seemed like a normal girl.

Until he ate his breakfast, when he seemed to be back to his usual self. At least he appreciated her cooking.

Akane had been watching him surreptitiously during the whole meal. Her expression seemed to alternate between concern and something else. She knew that she’d have to keep a close eye on the two of them. Maybe Ranma could learn something from this experience, be less of an arrogant jerk, and improve his relationship with her little sister. That would make the whole ordeal a win for everyone.

* * *

Breakfast complete, Ranma and Akane were walking to Furinkan High School together, following the path of the Shakujii river. As a city river with concrete banks, it wasn’t outstandingly beautiful, but there was greenery in addition to the water, and this path gave the most direct route, with the river itself giving rise to fewer cross-streets. The pair hadn’t spoken since they left the house, each a little afraid that they might say the wrong thing, but Akane thought of something.

“I can help you with your training,” she offered, surprising herself with her own boldness.

Ranma drew breath. He was about to tell her that he didn’t need help, that he was more than capable of making up his own training regimens, and that she’d only slow him down, all the usual excuses, but the moment that well-rehearsed speech popped into his head, he realized how much those words would hurt Akane, would push her away when she was reaching out to try to help him. And, although he teased her about being a tomboy, the truth was that Akane was a skilled martial artist, and he could certainly use all the help he could get. Maybe she can even help me learn to fight better in this body, he thought.

He swallowed his pride. “Uh, okay… thanks” he said finally. “I could use a training partner. Just don’t hold back, all right? I need to get stronger.”

Akane couldn’t help herself, “Hold back? I dunno, Ranma. I’d be hitting a girl, maybe I need to hold back because girls are delicate, right?”

Ranma felt the sting in her words; he knew immediately what she was getting at. How many times had he made similar sexist remarks when she’d asked him not to hold back when fighting her? Part of him wanted to snap back at her, tell her that it was different when he was a boy fighting a girl, but he knew that would only make things worse.

Instead, he took a deep breath and said, “I get it. I can be a jerk sometimes. You’re right. No holding back, on either side.”

They continued the rest of the way to school in a companionable silence, each lost in their own thoughts, each slightly surprised that the conversation had gone as well as it had.

Arriving at the school gates, they were greeted by an all too familiar sight. Tatewaki Kuno-senpai was there, as usual, dressed in his usual kendo outfit—a light blue kimono under dark blue hakama—instead of the standard uniform male students were expected to wear. This morning he’d accessorized with a rose in his teeth and a bouquet of flowers in the hand not holding his bokken. Spotting Akane, he immediately strode over to her.

“Ah, my beloved Akane-sama!” Kuno exclaimed, bowing deeply. “Might I have the honor of escorting you to class this fine morning?” Noticing Ranma at her side, he added, “And perhaps you could introduce me to your lovely friend here?”

Ranma’s decision to wear a conventional school uniform and not to put his hair in its usual braid apparently meant that Kuno didn’t immediately recognize him as “the pigtailed girl” he claimed to be infatuated with. Ranma decided to play along for now. “Sure, senpai,” Ranma replied, trying to sound demure. “If you behave like a gentleman and with proper restraint, by the end of the week I might tell you my name.”

Akane would have preferred to have just knocked Kuno into next week as usual, but she knew Ranma was trying to keep a low profile, so she reluctantly went along. “Okay, Kuno-senpai, you may escort us,” she said, “but don’t do or say anything stupid. Just walk us to class in silence.”

Kuno beamed. “As you wish, my lady,” he said, taking Akane’s hand and bowing to Ranma. “And you, my fair maiden. I look forward to earning the right to know your name.”

Kuno’s reaction was, of course, an outlier. Once they’d reached their classroom and Kuno had departed for his own, Ranma found that his classmates were pointing and whispering; clearly having recognized him as Ranma Saotome despite his new look. The teachers maintained their dignity, but Ranma knew they were confused, too.

His classmates had come up with a variety of theories to explain the appearance or disappearance of his two forms while at school. Some believed he had a twin sister; others thought he was crossdressing for attention (somehow oblivious to the clear height and build differences); and a few even imagined that magic of some kind was involved (although, strangely, those voices were in the minority). Now, seeing him attending school as a girl, in the proper uniform, they were even more confused. The twin-sister theory seemed to gain more traction, but no one was quite sure what to make of Ranma’s appearance.

When it came time for a break between lessons, several of Ranma’s classmates approached him, eager to talk to unwrap the mystery. A boy named Hiroshi approached first. “Hey, um, Saotome-san,” he said, trying to sound casual, “so, uh, are you like, you know, the same Ranma Saotome that everyone knows about?”

For the past two days, Ranma had been in girl form, but not playing the over-the-top girl persona he’d adopted when cosplaying as a girl for some scheme or other. But those skills were still there; he could still channel them when he chose. He smiled sweetly at Hiroshi. “Well, I think that Ranma Saotome is clearly a boy, right?” he said, batting his eyelashes. “And,” pointing to herself, “this Ranma Saotome is clearly a girl. You do know the difference, don’t you? I think you ought to be able to figure it out from there.”

Hiroshi blushed furiously. “Oh, uh, yeah, I guess so,” he stammered, backing away quickly.

A girl he didn’t know well, Yumi-san, approached next. “Hi, Ranma-san,” she ventured, trying to sound friendly. “So, uh, will you be using the girl’s bathroom and changing rooms from now on?”

In the past, a question like that would have left Ranma flustered and unsure of how to respond, but now it really mattered. “Well, Yumi-san,” he began, dropping the slightly over-the-top femininity he’d channeled for Hiroshi, while maintaining the speech patterns expected of Japanese girls, “I think that would make sense, don’t you? You have the same body parts as I do. Would you want to use the boy’s bathrooms and changing rooms? And I don’t think either of us wants to be leered at in any changing room, right? The point is to go in, get changed, and get out as quickly as possible.”

Yumi didn’t look like she was entirely convinced, but she nodded slowly anyway, saying, “I guess so. You can’t put yourself in a risky situation,” before hurrying away.

Truth be told, when it came time for gym class, Ranma was a little nervous about using the girls’ changing room, but he reminded himself that Akane did it every day, and she was fine. He just needed to be quick and efficient about it. Even as he kept his eyes to himself, he noticed plenty of other eyes on him; he felt a little secret pride—all they could see was an attractive young woman with no room for doubt or artifice.

But as they changed after class, a girl named Miki approached him. “Hey, Ranma-san,” she said, smirking, “I don’t know what you are, but I do know you’re a freak. You should change in the gym closet or something, not in here with real girls.”

To her surprise, Yumi came to Ranma’s defense. “Leave her alone, Miki,” she said firmly. “You can see she’s a girl just like us. If you have a problem with that, maybe you should look at yourself. Isn’t that right, Ranma-san?”

Ranma gulped, still a bit shocked by Yumi’s support. “Uh, yeah,” he gestured to his body, “I’m just what you see here. Just like you.”

“And what were you last week?” Miki sneered.

“Last week there wasn’t a girl named Ranma Saotome in this school,” Ranma replied firmly. “This week there is. Make of that what you will.” And with that, he picked up his gym bag and left the changing room, hearing the start of an animated discussion erupt before the door closed.

“Did you hear what she said?”

“I guess Ranma really is a girl now.”

“I still say they’re twins with the same name.”

“She’s clearly not the same person as that guy.”

“Maybe, but—”

In the hall, he considered the ramifications of what he’d just done. On the one hand, he felt like he had successfully navigated a minefield, which was good. On the other hand, he’d apparently also convinced a lot of girls that he, Ranma Saotome, was a girl, and possibly always had been, which he had mixed feelings about. It felt like he was taking a hatchet to his own public identity.

He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes as he ran through the logical arguments he’d come up with this morning. His plan still made sense—if pretending to really be a girl allowed him to escape fights at school and focus on training to defeat Cologne, then so be it. He’d worry about his manly reputation when he had his male body back. He opened his eyes again and nodded confidently. This would work. He just had to keep reminding himself that he was still Ranma Saotome, no matter what form he was in, and that it didn’t matter what anyone else believed.

* * *

Back at the dojo after school, he found Akane waiting for him. She’d witnessed the confrontation in the changing room from a distance, and was both impressed and a little disturbed by how well Ranma had handled it. How convincing he’d been. She’d noticed it first at breakfast time when Ranma had given the “I’m still Ranma Saotome” speech before appearing in a girl’s uniform; Ranma had spoken using typically feminine pronouns and sentence endings. Ranma’s speech style switched back during breakfast, and then had been in some middle ground for much of the way to school, but by the time they encountered Kuno, it wasn’t that surprising that he didn’t recognize Ranma as “the pigtailed girl” as she not only looked like any other schoolgirl, she… he sounded like one, too. She thought about asking him about it, but decided against it for now. Instead, she just said, “Ready to train?”

Ranma nodded. “You’d better believe it. I have so much pent-up frustration to work out! And I need to get stronger. I need to be as strong as I was before, maybe even stronger, before I can face Cologne.”

Akane shook her head slightly. “I don’t think strength is the only thing you’ll need to defeat Cologne,” she said thoughtfully. “She’s tricky. And fast. I’ve seen how she darts out of the way at the last second. To counter that, it’s not strength you need, it’s smarts to fake her out, and perhaps most of all, you need to be fast, too. That’s what we need to focus on.”

Ranma carefully considered Akane’s analysis. “I think you’re right, Akane. I can get stronger, but if I can’t touch her, that won’t matter. Let’s do it your way.”

And so they spent the evening training. In the past, Ranma had often dismissed Akane’s martial-arts skills, but now that he had agreed to treat her as an equal, he was impressed by the depth of her knowledge, her obvious skill, and, most of all, her stamina. He found himself learning new techniques and strategies that he hadn’t considered before, and she was pushing him closer to his physical limits than he’d expected. By the end of the session, he was nearly exhausted, but he also felt more confident about his chances against Cologne. He wasn’t there yet, but he was closer.

After the session, he took a cold shower to wash off the sweat and grime of training. The cold was still uncomfortable, but he was getting used to it. There was still dinner to eat, homework to do, and then bed, so he couldn’t just change into his sleepwear until later, but it didn’t seem right to put his school uniform or training clothes on again. He considered some of his more casual boy clothes, but they didn’t fit well. After another look through his options, he found several more items Nabiki had given him that he thought would be safe to wear in public; for now, he settled for a loose T-shirt and a pair of shorts that were comfortable enough, even if the colors were a bit girly for his taste.

* * *

As the day drew to a close, Ranma felt a sense of accomplishment. He had managed to have a day where chaos had not reigned supreme. He’d even been able to actually learn things in school, and not only had he managed to get some training in, but he and Akane were more in sync than ever. It would be hard not to feel satisfied with all that. He found himself yawning as he brushed his hair before going to bed, and once again caught his reflection in the mirror. The young woman looking back at him had a determined expression on her face. Ranma smiled at her. “We’re getting there,” she said softly. “We’ll beat Cologne yet.”

Ranma snuggled into her bed, feeling tired but content. She found it easy enough to find a comfortable position, and—no, no: he found it easy enough to find a comfortable position. I’m still me, he reminded himself, I’m still Ranma Saotome. With that thought, he drifted off to sleep.