Chapter 13. Saturday, July 16

Ranma snuggled in her bed, enjoying the cosiness of her position under the covers and the comfort of Mr. Bunny in her arms. Today marked exactly two weeks since Cologne had hit her—him back then—with the Full-Body Cat’s Tongue pressure-point technique that had effectively bound her in this form.

She didn’t think she’d dreamed at all, but then she dimly remembered a nightmare from earlier where the Cat’s Tongue sensitivity had somehow worn off unexpectedly and she was splashed with hot water, turning her back into him. She’d woken up in a panic, before realizing with relief that she was still herself and falling back to sleep again.

Looking back, she realized that when she had been Ranma-kun, barely a day would go by without at least one unexpected splash of cold water triggering the transformation into his cursed form (often several times in the same day in sequences of events that often stretched credulity to the breaking point), but now it seemed like the opposite was true—two whole weeks had passed without any accidents.

Sure, you were a lot less likely to encounter hot water flying around than cold, but it felt like there must be something more to it than that—when she was working at the Nekohanten, she must have handled hundreds of bowls of hot noodles and cups or pots of tea. At home she and Akane had made miso soup and tea, and most meals had featured hot liquids of various sorts. Yet she’d never been splashed. The only explanation she could think of was that some combination of her extreme aversion to heat caused by the Full-Body Cat’s Tongue point, her natural instinct for self-preservation, and her increasingly well-honed sense of her exact position in space (coupled, perhaps, with some subconscious desire to remain as Ranma-chan), all combined to make it essentially impossible for hot water to touch her skin. She couldn’t complain about the results, although she wondered if the continuous subconscious vigilance might be a little tiring.

If he could see her now, what would he think? Nothing flattering, she supposed. But screw him. She was a better martial artist than he’d been, and she also knew that he’d never believe that for a moment. Or… maybe he would. There was continuity after all—they were both Ranma Saotome, just separated by time and experience. They weren’t really different people. But she couldn’t understand how he, despite all his transformations into this form, had never joined the dots to arrive at her. Or… maybe from one perspective he finally had. Maybe that was the point…? She shook her head to clear it of these unresolvable circular thoughts and sat up on her bed to face the day ahead.

As she got up, she caught a brief glimpse of the girl in the mirror. The sight triggered a little burst of positive emotion, but she didn’t need to linger over the mirror to see herself. Ever since the morning she’d navigated around her room and to and from the bathroom with her eyes closed in preparation for her battle with Cologne, she didn’t need to look to see what was there; she could see herself in her mind’s eye just as well; maybe even better. That self image was what had made covering her mirror with a towel so ridiculous; she knew what the mirror would reflect, just as she knew what the girl standing in the room looked like. It was inescapable reality.

Once she’d taken care of things in the bathroom, she returned to get dressed for the day. Back on Monday, after she’d foolishly tried to pretend she could hide from herself with the towel over the mirror, she’d also pushed the skirts and dresses she and Akane had bought into the depths of her closet like they were some kind of radioactive threat. But now she felt differently. She was Ranma-chan, and she wanted to dress like Ranma-chan. So she pulled out a cute summer dress she’d bought with Akane and put it on, along with some light makeup to enhance her features without going overboard. Wearing it felt good, and that was what mattered.

Downstairs, she found Akane in the kitchen waiting for her. Ingredients had been laid out, but she hadn’t started cooking yet. Ranma saw salted salmon, a bowl of egg mixture, dashi (broth) on the stove keeping warm, wakame (for the miso soup) sitting rehydrating in a bowl, and the miso itself. Briefly, Ranma flashed back to Akane pouring the egg mixture into the dashi and the aftermath where they ate the result as politely as they could (which wasn’t very politely at all in Ranma-kun’s case, now that she came to think of it). She tried to see the funny side, succeeded, and smiled.

Glancing up, Akane looked a little surprised by Ranma’s outfit, but she smiled warmly. “You look nice, Ranma-chan,” she said thoughtfully. “I like that dress on you.”

“You chose it,” Ranma replied, keeping her smile. “And I wouldn’t want to show you up if we go out today. So, are we the ones doing the whole breakfast?”

“Yes,” Akane replied. “I thought we could give Kasumi-oneechan a break today and make shiojake and tamagoyaki. I’ve taken what you said the other day to heart, and I’m trying to think of it like chemistry rather than cooking so my head stays in the game and I don’t mess up. I’m sure that if we work together we can make something pretty decent.”

Ranma saw that Kasumi had already done most of the prep work; the egg mixture for the tamagoyaki was simple enough, but she could understand how Kasumi might not want to take any chances. But there were still plenty of opportunities to get things wrong, not to mention mastering the technique for making the rolled omelettes themselves.

Ranma insisted they plan out all the timings before they began—they ended up making a chart that resembled a train timetable (when to grill the salmon, when to finish the miso soup, when to plate the rice currently ready in the rice cooker, and so forth). Akane might never develop the instincts of a gifted cook like Kasumi, but with a plan in hand and a single-minded focus on the task, she did okay.

Ranma also acted as tutor for the omelette-rolling technique. She actually got Akane excited by talking about the chemistry of adding a little bit of grated nagaimo (mountain yam) to the mix, to make it fluffier held her interest while showing her the right amount of egg mix to ladle onto the square pan to get a nice thin layer; and on through the rolling and serving. Akane watched Ranma work and copied what she’d done—somehow Akane felt that it was especially nice to just watch Ranma and then do what she’d done, maybe not quite as well as Ranma had done it, but still completely acceptably. The pair made a good team, and the time passed quickly as they worked together.

At the breakfast table, Kasumi seemed pleased by what they’d made, and Soun guardedly acknowledged that it was better than he’d expected. Genma, on the other hand, was less disposed to acknowledge their efforts, grumbling that, “The boy should be in his gi, training, not playing housewife in a dress.” Ranma gave him a look that said, If you want to end up in the pond, keep talking like that, and Genma wisely kept his mouth shut for the rest of the meal.

* * *

After breakfast, as they were clearing things away, Akane turned to Ranma. “So, uh, Ranma, I kinda wanted to ask you something. Something a bit personal. I, um, don’t want to pry or make you uncomfortable, but, uh…,” she ground to an awkward halt.

Now Ranma was really curious about what it was Akane wanted to ask. She suspected it might be more questions about the nature of her identity, but if so, she was ready for them. “Go ahead, Akane-chan,” she urged gently. “You can ask me anything, but maybe we can sit and talk outside in the garden? It’s a nice day.”

They ventured outside, and sat on the bench under the maple tree. The leaves were a vibrant green, gently rustling from the light breeze. It was a pleasant setting for what promised to be a serious conversation.

“Well,” began Akane, “As far as I know, you haven’t transformed back into your male form since Saturday two weeks ago, right? There hasn’t been a time when you were splashed with hot water that I don’t know about?”

“No, that’s right,” Ranma replied. “I haven’t transformed since then. I don’t think I can. It seems like I just instinctively avoid hot water now. It’s like my body won’t let it happen.”

“That’s what I thought,” Akane said thoughtfully. “And physically, you’re a girl like me now, right? In every way that matters? I mean physically—I’m not talking about your mind or anything.”

“Uh-huh,” Ranma replied, starting to get an inkling about where this was going.

“So,” Akane continued, “Do you… uh… know where you are in your cycle?”

The question caught Ranma off guard. She hadn’t even thought about that. She knew that girls had periods and, obviously, she was a girl (at least for now), but she’d never made the obvious connection in her head. After all, Akane was a girl, and it didn’t seem like she had periods. But of course she does! Just how oblivious had he been? No. She had to own it—how oblivious she had been.

“Honestly, Akane-chan, I suppose I didn’t think I had a cycle. I mean, I know most girls do, but I’ve transformed lots of times, and I don’t remember having any issues with, uh, that sort of thing.”

“Hmm,” Akane mused. “I don’t know, but I think that maybe when you transform, everything resets. That’s why it’s not something you’ve had to deal with before. But if you’re staying in your female form for a longer time, then your cycle is probably going to advance just like anyone else’s. We don’t know for certain, obviously, but everything we do know says that your body is just like any other girl’s of your age now.”

“So in two weeks I’m gonna have to deal with my first period?” she asked, a little wide eyed. “I… uh… wonder if there is a martial-arts technique for that?” she added with an awkward laugh.

“It’s funny you should say that, Ranma-chan,” Akane replied with a small smile. “There is actually a pressure-point technique that can help with menstrual cramps.” She looked across the yard with a resigned expression and sighed. “It’s not the most fun thing in the world, but there are ways to get through it.”

Returning her gaze to Ranma, she continued, “But that’s why I asked if you knew where you were in your cycle. We don’t know where in the cycle you are when you transform, so we don’t know how long it’ll be. But if it’s going to happen at all, it’s probably less than two weeks away and you need to be prepared. You’ll need supplies and stuff.”

Ranma’s face paled. “I won’t have to tell Genma and Soun, will I?” she asked nervously, imagining how her father would react given his obvious denial of Ranma’s present situation.

“Our fathers probably don’t think any of the women in the house have periods,” Akane replied with a laugh. “But, no, you don’t have to tell them. We’ll just get what you need ourselves. I can help you with that.”

“I’ve already dealt with a few gross things having, uh, girl parts,” Ranma said, trying not to sound completely helpless, “but, yeah, this is gonna be a whole new experience, and having some help with navigating through it all would be great.”

Ranma closed her eyes and turned her focus inward, trying to sense where she was in her cycle. She visualized her body alongside a high-school biology textbook image and tried to map one onto the other. She might have been deluding herself, but she felt like she was able to make tiny, subtle movements to muscle groups that she associated with different parts of her reproductive system. She tried to picture the wall of her uterus, to figure out just how it felt, but after a few moments she gave up and opened her eyes, disappointed.

“I think I know where everything is,” she said, “but I can’t tell what it’s doing. So I guess I can’t figure out where I am in my cycle that way.”

“There are ways to tell using temperature and stuff,” Akane replied. “Most girls just know based on when their last period was and how they usually feel before it starts, but since you haven’t had one yet, we obviously can’t figure it out that way.”

Ranma had been so proud of her enhanced proprioception, but now she felt hopelessly out of touch with her own body. She sighed.

Akane ventured, “There is another option. If we got some hot water, it would be painful but we could briefly transform you back into Ranma-kun, and then splash you with cold water before the pain gets too bad, which would also turn you back. That way, you’d reset your cycle and you’d know you’ve got at least two weeks before you need to do that again.”

“No!”

Akane was a little taken aback by the vehemence of Ranma’s response.

“Sorry, Akane, I didn’t mean to snap,” Ranma said apologetically. “But I tried hot water two weeks ago and couldn’t bear the pain. And now I literally can’t. My body just won’t let me.” That did seem to be true, but there was more: she actually felt a little sick at the very thought of transforming into him; she just knew that she couldn’t. Another thing she didn’t dare admit to Akane was that she knew that a girl’s first period was a rite of passage in many cultures, including theirs, and that she very much wanted, maybe even needed, to experience that clear affirmation of her womanhood.

“It’s okay, Ranma-chan. We’ll get some supplies when we’re out today, but we’ll do some fun things, too,” Akane said, changing the subject. “I was thinking that we could explore the temple at the edge of town. I’ve heard it’s really beautiful this time of year with all the flowers blooming. And there’s a nice café on the way back where we can get some lunch.”

“That sounds great!” Ranma replied with a smile. “I’ll get my things together and we can head out.”

Returning to her room to pick up a shoulder bag, Ranma caught her reflection in the mirror again. This time, she took a moment to really look at the girl staring back at her. The soft curves of her face, the gentle slope of her shoulders, the way the dress hugged her figure; it all felt so right. Sure, Akane had reminded her of a sometimes unpleasant consequence of really living in that body of hers, but she had coped with so much, what was one more thing? It was an essential part of being who she was now, and, she realized, for the ability to bring new life into the world, even if she was still far from being ready to think about that as a serious possibility, that downside seemed downright trivial.

“I’m Ranma Saotome,” she announced to her astounded reflection, affecting a grand tone, “and I’m off to buy tampons and pads!” She laughed at herself, grabbed her bag, and headed out the door to meet Akane for their day of adventure.

* * *

Until recently, the weather had been unseasonably cool for early summer (and the rain, while plentiful, hadn’t felt relentless), but now the heat was really starting to build. Ranma was very glad she’d chosen a lightweight dress for the day. As they walked to the temple, they chatted about school and their training, and played a little game of imagining backstories for people they passed on the street. When a woman walked past carrying a large box she could barely see over, they spun up several ludicrous scenarios about what might be in the box, ranging from a diorama of great moments in TV comedy, to a collection of rare preserved cheeses, to a tiny but fully functional robot butler. They laughed at their own silliness, enjoying the lightheartedness of the moment.

In the temple grounds, although the cherry blossoms had long since fallen, there were still plenty of other flowers in bloom—irises, hydrangeas, peonies, and so many more. The air was filled with the sweet scent of the flowers and the gentle hum of bees.

As they wandered through the gardens, admiring the beauty around them, Akane took a few photos of Ranma amongst the flowers. While Ranma felt a little self-conscious about the whole thing—pretty girl and pretty flowers was just such a cliche!—she was also pleased to have these memories captured for the future, and was very happy to take the same sorts of pictures of Akane. Next time, she thought, we need to get someone to take pictures of both of us together.

They wandered though the memorial garden and down to the pond. Although it was fenced off, despite Akane’s discouragement, Ranma couldn’t resist the urge to take off her shoes, hop the fence, and dip her toes into the cool water. The sensation was refreshing, as the day was definitely starting to warm up, and she felt a wave of relaxation wash over her. Akane laughed at her antics but was glad when Ranma was back on the correct side of the fence.

They decided to continue on to Shakujiimachi and then take the train back as the heat and humidity were starting to be a bit much, with rain forecast for later in the afternoon. Along the way they found that they just had to sample some of the area’s street food. They found a vendor selling crepes, and Akane had one with strawberries and whipped cream while Ranma, who would usually have chosen the same, found herself craving the chocolate and banana option. They swapped bites as they sat on a bench nearby, watching the world go by.

Just when they were almost done, a blob of chocolate sauce dripped onto Ranma’s dress, which rather spoiled the idyllic moment. Akane dashed to get tissues and a little water from the crepe stand, and they managed to clean it up a bit, but Ranma felt like the spell was broken. It seemed like the heat and humidity had suddenly become much worse, and she almost wished they’d skipped the food and headed straight to the train.

“Hey, Ranma-chan, Akane-chan!” a familiar voice called out. It was Yumi from school, out with a few friends. “What are you two doing out here?”

Ranma moved her hand to cover the stain and damp patch on her dress, while Akane answered, “We were just exploring the temple grounds and getting some crepes.”

“Oh, we were just about to do that! Want to hang out for a bit?” Yumi asked.

“What do you think, Ranma-chan?” Akane asked.

Ranma really wanted to go home, but Yumi was her friend, and she didn’t want to seem rude. “Um… Sure, why not?” she replied, trying to sound enthusiastic.

“Awesome, we’ll be right back!” Yumi said, and her group headed off to get their crepes.

There was a lull while Akane and Ranma waited. Ranma felt a little awkward, especially with the stain on her dress. She hoped Yumi and her friends wouldn’t notice.

When they came back with their snacks, Yumi and her friends, most of whom didn’t attend their school (although Ranma thought she recognized one or two), sat down around them and launched into a long discussion about a boy at school that Yumi liked but who didn’t seem to notice her. Ranma didn’t know him at all. Yumi’s friends were full of opinions, and Akane joined in with her take as well.

Ranma tried to keep track of the conversation, but her mind kept wandering back to the stain on her dress and the heat of the day and the errand she and Akane still needed to do. She was also pretty sure she’d heard Yumi have this exact discussion at school a couple of weeks ago. She started to feel like she was being held captive, especially when the conversation covered the exact same ground for the third time. She did her best to look engaged rather than grumpy, but she suspected that grumpiness was winning.

As their conversation finally seemed to be winding down, Yumi suddenly turned to Ranma and tried to pull her in, asking her, “So, Ranma-chan, do you have any advice about boys?”

Ranma was taken aback. She had no idea what to say in response. Yumi was supposed to be her friend, so what the hell? Was she trying to make a joke? Was she trying to remind people about her past? Just what had Yumi told her other friends about her? Now she really wished they’d just been a bit rude and hadn’t stayed.

It took her a few more seconds to come up with the best thing she could think of, “Uh, honestly, they’re a total enigma to me,” which was completely true. Everyone laughed, and Ranma felt her face flush. She could see the humor in her statement, too, but their laughter also stung a bit. Were they laughing at what she’d said, or at her?

She gave Akane a pointed look, silently asking for rescue.

Thankfully, Akane got it, and she jumped in with, “Well, Yumi-chan, maybe Ranma-chan and I need to get going. We have some errands to run before it rains.” They made their goodbyes, Ranma doing her best not to show her discomfort, and headed to the station.

It was a short walk, and on the way they passed a drugstore. Ranma was surprised when Akane went straight in; she followed, but she was a little annoyed. She’d been expecting that they would go to a nice shop closer to home that she was familiar with, but apparently Akane was excited about this place. Whatever. It didn’t really matter, right?

The unexpected change of plans had thrown her a bit, but the unfamiliar store left her feeling even more at sea. They had to wander around quite a bit before they found the right aisle, and when they finally did, the range of feminine hygiene products on display was vast and bewildering. Even Akane looked a little lost, but she rallied quickly, peppering Ranma with questions about what she wanted. Would she feel comfortable using tampons? If so, did she want the kind with an applicator or the ones without? Did she want scented or unscented pads? At one point she appeared to be doing some kind of mental math while talking about flow rates. It was all a bit much for Ranma, who felt like the towering wall of options and variations in front of her was closing in. Had Akane somehow forgotten that this was all new to her?

“I have no idea, Akane-chan,” she said, on the edge of panicking. “Can’t we, uh, just get whatever it is you use?” Please?

“People are different, Ranma-chan,” Akane lectured her. “What works for me might be a terrible choice for you. But I guess we can narrow things down a bit and get a selection of things for you to try.”

They ended up focusing on a couple of brands that Akane trusted, and got both tampons and pads. After they’d added in the variations for different flow rates, which Akane assured her was very important, they ended up with a pretty full basket, which made Ranma feel self-conscious as they headed to the checkout, where they found themselves in a short line. By the time they got to the counter, several more shoppers had queued behind them, so she had an audience while she unpacked the cart. She cringed when she put two “value packs” with “20% extra free!” on the counter, which, she thought, made it seem like she was stocking up for a small army. Akane had promised to take some of those for herself when they got home, but right now, they were still Ranma’s problem. Having so many different things just made Ranma even more embarrassed, and that embarrassment only deepened when the cashier—a teenage girl and not a boy, thank Kamisama—gave her a knowing smile as she scanned the items and put them into a bag that was clearly just a little bit too small for everything. Two bags would have made much more sense, but after already having the whole collection displayed for everyone behind them, she didn’t dare draw any more attention to herself by asking for another bag.

As she’d expected, the overfull bag was awkward to carry, and the bag’s plastic was stretched thin enough that the labels on the various boxes and packets inside showed through. On the train, Ranma couldn’t help thinking that everyone was looking at her and wondering what kind of menstrual calamity she was preparing for. Akane tried to reassure her by saying that no one cared, but Ranma couldn’t shake the feeling of being judged, especially as she not only had to manage the bag, but she also had to stand a bit awkwardly so her shoulder bag would cover the chocolate stain on her dress. She also realized that now that they had the things they needed, the train ride to reach the store that she had actually wanted to go to (where they probably didn’t have some kind of bag shortage or assistants who almost giggled at your purchases) was now unnecessary. They could have walked home and it would have probably been faster!

When they did finally get home, Ranma was relieved to be out of the public eye. She and Akane put away their hoard, both glad their fathers weren’t around to watch, and then Ranma more-or-less collapsed onto the couch, exhausted from the day’s adventures. Akane reappeared with drinks for both of them and Ranma took hers with a grunt.

Akane, who was already frustrated by Ranma’s sullen attitude on the way home, couldn’t help but goad her a little. “You know, Ranma-chan, they say that irritability can be a sign that your period is coming.”

Ranma was indignant. She was being completely rational! She’d suffered the chocolate stain, the tedious conversation with Yumi and her friends, who she barely knew, about some boy she didn’t know at all, been put in the spotlight about what she, of all people, thought about boys, and then she’d been thrown into the bewildering world of feminine-hygiene products in an unfamiliar store with a smirking cashier, followed by a needlessly circuitous trip home in a train carriage where, clearly, the air conditioning wasn’t working properly, and with every single person on the train obviously judging her! Anyone would be irritable after all that!

Screw you, Akane, was what she wanted to say, but instead she downed her drink, stood up, and said, “I’m going to take a bath, and, uh… cool off.” She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts, before adding, “But it was a nice day until the heat got a bit much, and, uh, I really appreciate you helping me with all this stuff.” Her ability to be gracious, even when she was justifiably annoyed, was something she was proud of and clear proof that Akane was completely wrong when she claimed that Ranma was being “irritable”.

* * *

As she got herself and the bath ready, Ranma continued to stew about what Akane had said. How illogical it was. The things she was upset about weren’t made up. Her frustration about the route they’d taken home was completely legitimate. If Akane had been able to call up a mental map of the area, she’d have seen the pointlessness of the rail journey. But no, of course she didn’t do that! Exactly the kind of mistake you’d expect from a girl! The moment she thought it, the sexist barb brought her up sharply. Where did that come from?! What’s wrong with me? Ranma sighed dejectedly, realizing just how deeply our culture invisibly shapes the way we think and feel, even when we should know better.

Ranma glared at the wall. It was all so unfair. All of it. And so unlikely. Cursed springs belonged in fairy tales set “a long time ago”, not here, not now, in the life of a 1980s Japanese high-school student. Yet here she was. Here they all were. Sometimes it all seemed so crazy that she found herself imagining that she was just a character in a bizarre movie. And if her life was a movie, who was the audience? Who would want to watch her go through all this? Seriously: Who?

* * *

With Ranma’s question, the lens of the narrative camera slowly swings around to point at you, the reader. You are surprised—and not necessarily pleased—to be pulled into the story yourself. You don’t need to be interrogated by the story’s narrative structure. Thankfully, you can still keep your distance. You are not truly a participant in the story—you’re still just reading, and these words in your mind, even as they become part of you, are not really your own. But the change in focus encourages you to reflect on the hold this story has on you. How invested you have become in its characters. The story began easily enough, but as you read, it became more complicated, with more characters to keep track of, events to remember, emotions to feel. Somewhere along the way, maybe even on the first page, you became caught up in the story. You cared. You can’t help feeling a kinship with Ranma and Akane now, for many reasons. You found that certain things resonated with you; that’s no surprise (especially that one bit). Oh, and that scene with Cologne. That was hard. Really hard. You were warned by the preface (a warning that some readers glossed over), but that couldn’t really prepare you for what would happen. That scene where everything went wrong no doubt reminded you of when… Yes, that time….

Well, no. Maybe it’s not exactly the same. But when you read properly, carefully, with empathy, you can’t stop yourself from making connections. You can’t help integrating what you read into what you are. That’s what minds do. Everything you experience, through reading, watching media, attending classes, listening to music, talking with other people about their experiences and feelings, hearing stories about your parents or your friends’ parents, or about their kids, taking hikes, traveling, walking down city streets or country lanes, preparing or eating food, daydreaming, people watching—everything—gets caught up in and combines with your own story….

Enough! you exclaim. Don’t put words in my mouth. Get back to the story. You are nearly at the end of this interlude—you can see the section marker—and you are only too glad to let the focus of the narrative camera turn away, allowing you to relax and sink back into the story, an unseen observer, allowing it to surround and shape you once more….

* * *

Imagining her purported audience lacking control in their own world helped Ranma cheer up considerably. Screw them. And maybe Akane was right; maybe she was a bit out of sorts. The idea that hormonal changes might influence her mood and behavior wasn’t one she liked, but she’d heard the claims made often enough that she couldn’t rule out the idea—after all, her body wasn’t supposed to be any different from other girls’, so why wouldn’t she be subject to the same influences? Gah. She looked straight at the mirror, put on her most feminine voice, tossed her hair, and said, “I am Ranma Saotome, and my wild mood swings feel so right!” She laughed at her self-mockery, and then stepped into the bath to relax and wash away the stress of the day.

As she sat in the cool water, she tried once again to sense where she was in her cycle. She focused intently on her body, trying to feel for any sensations that might indicate what was happening inside her. She wasn’t sensing anything that seemed relevant and was just about ready to give up—wait. Something was different, but it wasn’t in her abdomen. She tried to follow the contour of the feeling, carefully exploring its shape, its extent. It was most noticeable in her skin, but it also seemed to stretch across her entire body. It was like a pressure… like gravity… like being wrapped in a blanket… like being home…. It felt odd in a way that made her wonder if it was really part of her at all, but it somehow also felt reassuring. It was so subtle; if she hadn’t been so focused on looking inward so intently, she might have missed it entirely.

As she thought about it, she realized that the feeling wasn’t completely unfamiliar. She thought back to the pond in the park—was this what she’d felt she’d stepped into the water? An idea occurred to her and she stepped out of the bath. The water ran off her body and the feeling dissipated. She got back into the bath and it returned. She stepped out again, and it vanished. She filled a cup at the sink and splashed it on herself, and the feeling returned, briefly.

It had to be her “curse”. Cold water was the trigger, and if she’d been in male form, it would have transformed her into her girl form. But because she was already in her female form, the curse had nothing to do; it was content because things were already as they needed to be.

She got back into the bath. It felt nice. She closed her eyes and let herself relax, enjoying the sensation of being enveloped within that comforting, barely perceptible, pressure. As she tried to empty her mind, an unwelcome thought popped up: What if all her feelings of “rightness” about being Ranma-chan were just the result of an enchantment? What if, in the same way that hormones might make her irritable, her curse might be what made her so convinced that she was meant to be this way? She panicked briefly, letting out a soft whimper, but another thought pulled her out of it: I don’t live in the bathtub. As mildly comforting as this feeling was, it needed cold water to manifest. Not only that, but the sensation was so faint you had to concentrate to even notice it was there. No. Enchantment wasn’t why she felt the way she did.

She wondered what the opposite feeling might be; the one from hot water. Some sort of repulsion or expulsion? The question was moot anyway—she simply couldn’t do the experiment because of the effects of the Full-Body Cat’s Tongue pressure point. Even if there was a way around the Cat’s Tongue, she didn’t think she could make herself do the transformation; she’d felt queasy when Akane had brought the idea up this morning, and that feeling of nausea welled up even more strongly now. But there was still the Phoenix Pill. If she got it from Cologne, she’d be able to…. She shuddered, almost gagging.

Pulling herself together, she got out of the bath, put on a bathrobe and headed back to the living room, where Akane was watching something on TV. Ranma flopped down on the couch next to her, feeling much more relaxed now.

“Sorry I was a bit of a grump on the way home,” Ranma said apologetically. “I guess everything kinda got on top of me. It’s all been a lot to deal with.”

Akane had been thinking about the situation while Ranma was in the bath. This must be so hard for him, she thought. She kept allowing herself to be taken in by Ranma’s extraordinary ability to produce a perfect simulacrum of a real girl. She kept forgetting that deep inside her “close friend Ranma-chan”, was Ranma-kun, and that for him, a trip to buy tampons and talk about boys from school could only have been a form of torture. She would have to be even more supportive to make sure that he made it through this most recent assault on his true identity.

She snuggled up to Ranma and gave her a hug. “It’s okay, Ranma-chan. I get it. This is all new for you, and it’s a lot to take in. But I’m here for you, okay? We’ll get through this together.”

* * *

They watched some TV, then had dinner, and then spent some time chatting with Nabiki, who was putting together yet another money-making scheme, and Kasumi-oneechan, who was worried about how Nabiki’s plan would play out. Then they all watched a movie and finally it was time for bed.

As she lay in her bed that night, Ranma felt like she’d done okay. It hadn’t been the day she’d been expecting to have, but she’d managed. And some of it had been really nice. As she closed her eyes and wriggled around to get comfortable, she noticed that maybe she wasn’t quite as comfortable as usual. Was this “bloating” or was she just imagining it? She tried to turn her focus inward again, but fell asleep before she could get any clarity.