Chapter 17. Wednesday, July 20

Ranma dreamed… She and Akane were at a registry office, about to sign papers to get married. The clerk asked, “And which one of you is the groom?” Ranma and Akane looked at each other awkwardly. “I don’t want to be the groom,” Akane said plaintively.

“I don’t want to be the groom, either,” Ranma complained.

“Be realistic, Ranma-chan,” Akane said gently. “One of us has to be the groom. It’s just how it works. And it has to be you, you know that.”

Ranma felt a wave of anger rise up inside her. “You’re the tomboy,” she shot back. “You should be the groom!”

Akane’s eyes flared. “I knew you were Ranma-kun under all that girliness,” Akane said, her voice rising. “You were always a jerk and you still are!” She stormed off, and Ranma woke up, feeling guilty and confused.

Ranma-kun had been an insensitive jerk sometimes, she had to admit that. Maybe even a lot of the time. But that “uncute tomboy” thing was such a stupid insult. Akane was in no way a tomboy. Yes, she had to wear her hair a bit shorter after her long Kasumi-like hairstyle was chopped off in an accident caused by yet another of his stupid fights, but once Kasumi had cleaned it up, the shorter cut looked great on her. But even before the hair thing, Ranma-kun had teased her about being “unfeminine”. What a jerk he was—no, that she had been. Ranma felt a wave of shame wash over her.

And the way the dream reminded her that in Japan, two women couldn’t marry, well… that was a difficult truth to face. Ranma had to accept that no matter how much she wanted to be with Akane, a thousand complexities would always stand in their way. Even if Akane could accept Ranma-chan fully, society might not, and they’d both have to deal with the fallout for the rest of their lives. Thus her sense of duty demanded that she protect Akane from those challenges by handing the baton back to Ranma-kun at some point. She could only hope that he wouldn’t mess things up too badly. Part of her wanted to believe that she could pilot him from the inside, like a resistance fighter working to undo the ills of their male-dominated culture, but she knew that was a fantasy. As deeply as she’d been drawn into female culture thanks to her embodiment as Ranma-chan, she was pretty sure that embodiment as Ranma-kun would gradually unravel all her experiences and eventually he’d forget everything she’d learned. She didn’t want to believe that, but it seemed so obvious.

She reminded herself of the choice she’d made a few days ago—that even if her time as Ranma-chan would have to end at some point, her experiences now were still real and valid. She was a real girl, with real feelings and desires. She deserved to be happy, even if it was just for a little while.

She sighed and got up, heading to the bathroom to sort things out and freshen up for the day. Dealing with her period was still kind of gross, but even though it was only her third day ever, she felt like she was getting the hang of it. She’d even remembered to take ibuprofen before bed last night, and more when she got up, and she could tell that it was helping a lot. She couldn’t help feeling a bit proud of herself for being on top of things.

And that thought sent her down yet another mental rabbit hole. Pride and shame. Genma could (and sometimes did) announce to the world that he was off to the bathroom to take a crap, but she could never announce, “I’m off to swap my tampon!” Stigma meant that the whole thing had to be kept so private, so secretive. Yes, some societies might celebrate a girl’s first period with ceremonies and gifts, but after that, it was something to be hidden away. And even that moment of celebration was a sham; it was really a celebration of fertility and the ability to bear children, not of the actual experience of menstruation itself. Women weren’t really people, they were just baby factories.

Ranma felt another wave of anger building up inside her. Men. It wasn’t just that they were disgusting lechers; they were also the architects and beneficiaries of a society that controlled, demeaned, and shamed women. Even those who didn’t benefit became enablers of it. Even stupid Ranma-kun, who had somehow spent months in the same house as Akane without ever being aware of her cycle, had still been part of that system. Ranma felt a fierce determination rise up inside her, but she didn’t know what to do with it. There was no martial-arts technique for taking down the patriarchy.

She frowned. Perhaps she couldn’t fix the world, but she could repair things closer to home. She should apologize to Akane for Ranma-kun’s insensitive behavior. She could try to help Kasumi-oneechan think about her own future rather than everyone else’s. She could try to get to know Nabiki better; there had to be more to her than her business schemes. And maybe, just maybe, she could catch Happosai and teach him a painful lesson in humility and respect.

* * *

In the kitchen, she asked Kasumi if she could have a word in private. Kasumi looked a bit surprised, but nodded and followed her to the living room.

“Kasumi-oneechan, I just wanted to say… thank you. For the underwear, and for the sekihan the other night. It was really thoughtful of you.” Thanking Kasumi always felt a bit awkward because she would just shrug it off and tell you there was no need for thanks. But this time Ranma really needed Kasumi to understand how wonderful she was and how much Ranma appreciated her. She continued, “I’d love to find more ways to give you a break, to give you some time to do things you want to do for yourself. I could make dinner tonight, if you’d like?”

“That’s sweet of you, Ranma-chan,” Kasumi replied, smiling warmly. “But there’s really no need. I enjoy cooking for everyone.”

“What if I said I really wanted to? That I enjoy cooking for everyone, too?” Ranma pressed gently.

“Well, if you insist,” Kasumi said, still smiling. “I’d be happy to let you cook tonight. I can help if you’d like.”

“I’d be happier if you just took the evening off and did something for yourself. Maybe a relaxing bath, or reading a book, or going to watch Dr. Tofu bump into things. But something that’s for you and only for you.”

Kasumi looked touched. “Thank you, Ranma-chan. That’s very thoughtful of you.” Her smile faded, just a bit, as her eyes shifted towards the far end of the room. A moment later, her smile was back and directed at Ranma. “I think I will take you up on your offer.” She paused again, then added, “You know, you’re growing into a very caring young woman. I’m proud of you.”

Ranma-chan had meant this conversation to be about giving back to Kasumi-oneechan, but hearing those words made her feel seen in a way she’d never been before. But she kept her composure—Kasumi didn’t need drama. “Thanks, Kasumi-oneechan,” she breathed, “That means a lot to me.”

Kasumi smiled to herself. She’d been sure about Ranma for a while now, but her response to what she’d said told her that she was right. She’d better make sure that Nabiki didn’t give anything away, especially to their fathers, who were already unhappy about the whole situation.

Now, she sighed, how long would it be before Akane-chan figured things out?

* * *

After breakfast, Ranma went back to her room to get her things. Today was a swimming day, so she’d need her swimsuit and towel. But her swimsuit wasn’t where it was supposed to be. She knew exactly where it should be—she’d checked the other day—but it wasn’t. Damn Happosai! He must have taken it during his twisted little raid. She considered her options. There were a couple of swimsuits that Nabiki had “given” her to “model” in what seemed like a different world, weeks ago, but there was no way she’d wear one of those at school. Or anywhere else someone might see me, she thought.

Frustrated, she remembered that there was one more option: a suit that Ranma-kun had picked up somewhere for his silly play-acting as a girl. It was basically a standard school-issue suit, but—maybe because he had thought it was funny—it was embroidered with the three English letters “B”, “O”, and “Y” across the front. Ranma-chan sighed. It was kind of embarrassing, but it would have to do. She tried telling herself that the letters weren’t that big and that there were lots of things in Japan with odd and not necessarily correct or appropriate English words on them, which was true, but not as convincing as she’d have liked. Ugh, she huffed. She grabbed it, stuffed it in her bag with a towel, and headed back downstairs.

On the way to school with Akane, Ranma decided to get another thing off her chest. “Akane-chan, I wanted to share something with you. Something that matters a lot to me.”

Akane stopped and looked at her expectantly. Ranma took a deep breath. “I… uh… If… if Ranma-kun were here right now, I’d like to think that he’d tell you he’s sorry for the way he treated you in the past. He was a jerk sometimes, and he didn’t appreciate you the way he should have. Just as one example, we’ve lived together all these months, but somehow he was oblivious—I was oblivious—to your cycle. And I know, I’m sure you didn’t want him to know because he would have been such an asshole about it, but that doesn’t make it any better. And the ‘teasing’ that he… that I used to do, the stupid things he said to you… that was awful. I’m really sorry about all that, Akane-chan. I don’t know what he—I—was thinking back then, but I hope you can forgive him… and me.”

Akane was surprised by her unexpected apology, but she felt the sincerity in Ranma-chan’s voice, and almost looked for the flying silk. “Thank you, Ranma-chan. Of course I forgive you… and Ranma-kun, too. Yes, he was massively annoying at times, but I was—I am still—fond of him. If I’m honest, part of me misses him and all his mischief. But I… I wouldn’t trade this time we’ve had for anything.”

She wanted to say more, much more, but this was the closest that Ranma had come to openly saying what Akane knew to be true in ages. Ranma-chan was just reminding Akane that she was still really Ranma-kun—that was obviously what all the “if Ranma-kun were here” stuff meant. Akane didn’t dare hurt him by saying anything about her feelings for Ranma-chan. That would be cruel.

Akane’s confession about missing Ranma-kun gave Ranma a twinge of guilt. She was enjoying being Ranma-chan so much that she kept forgetting that Akane had feelings for Ranma-kun, too. It was all so complicated.

“I understand, Akane-chan. And if someday Ranma-kun is back and he forgets what he learned from me, just remember: you have so much embarrassing dirt on him. I promise you, he’ll never live it down. We’ll make sure of that.

“Thanks, bestie,” Akane said with a smile. She almost added, Maybe if we worked together, we could make him so embarrassed he’d never return! She’d have said it as a joke, but even as a joke she recognized that it was too much; too close to a truth she hadn’t quite accepted about her own feelings, so she didn’t say it out loud. Silence descended between them as they studied the other’s face, but the mood was one of comfortable companionship, each lost in their own thoughts.

* * *

Ranma felt like today was another day weighted with a feeling of finality. The school year was almost over. Today was their last day of proper classes, tomorrow would be taken up with Oosouji (big cleaning) and clubs planning for the fall festival, and then the next day they had Shuugyoushiki (the closing ceremony) and report cards. After that was summer vacation, but Cologne’s imminent but indefinite challenge and Ranma-kun’s inevitable return cast a shadow across any plans they might make.

It would be easy for her to be sad, to be wistful about it all, but in this moment, Ranma felt that if her story ended here, right now, it would have a good ending. The closing line wouldn’t be “And she lived happily ever after”, true, but her epitaph would read “She lived fully, deeply, and truly, if only for a little while”. It was enough. Despite all her struggles, or perhaps because of them, Ranma felt like she’d found a kind of peace, of joy in just existing, that some people might live their whole lives and never experience.

And hey, maybe I will live happily ever after too, she thought, allowing herself a little bit of hope. After all, I am Ranma Saotome of the Anything-Can-Happen School of Life Experiences! The credits hadn’t yet rolled; there was no sign that it was the last act. She just had to improvise her way through each new scene as it arrived. Most immediately, that meant dealing with the practicalities of getting through this final day of regular school, which would feature thrilling events such as receiving her remaining (no doubt) outstanding exam scores back and having a career-counseling session as part of the end-of-term wrap-up. The whole day would be easy enough to winnow down to a brief montage featuring a bouncy J-pop song about school days as its soundtrack. Undoubtedly, there would also be a Kuno scene. Idiot Kuno-senpai, another perfect representative of his idiotic sex.

* * *

Kuno was indeed waiting by the gate when they reached the school. Ranma took the initiative, inspired by her earlier thoughts of dramatic scenes. “Your wedding to Shampoo-san is tomorrow?!?” she exclaimed joyfully, enjoying putting him on the back foot. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner!? We would have loved to come! Of course we knew you had stolen Shampoo-san’s heart, everyone does, but we didn’t expect things to move so fast!”

“I am attracted to so many women,” Kuno replied, desperately trying to recall how he’d been so unaware of his own upcoming nuptials. “But, yes, fair maidens, I know your hearts must be crushed. Rest assured that I will still always have room for you both in my heart; even as I pledge myself to Shampoo-sama, my first and truest love.”

“I hope you’ve got your attire ready,” Akane added, joining in. “It’s going to be a very formal affair. Very traditional. Kimonos and geta and all that finery.”

They both enjoyed the look of panic in Kuno’s eyes as he excused himself and fled the scene. Ranma-chan felt a small thrill of victory. Manipulating Kuno could be so easy if you just played to his vanity. And his loose grip on reality.

* * *

The school day began with their one remaining exam being returned, Japanese. The course, which covered both language and literature, had had an exam that was as much of a marathon to take as well as, apparently, to grade. In the past, as Ranma-kun, she hadn’t always given the attention to detail that the grammar and syntax aspects of the language demanded, and, although the literature parts could be fascinating, she’d often failed to finish the readings for a variety of reasons from her chaotic life. But this year she felt like she’d been able to focus during the exam and she’d been able to find the time to do all the readings (most of them, anyway), so she was hopeful about her grade.

It seemed to take an age, as their teacher walked around the class handing back the graded exams. Finally, after what felt like an especially cruel prolonging of the agony, the teacher reached her desk and handed her graded exam booklet. “Excellent work, Ranma-san,” she said, leaning in so that only she would hear. Ranma felt a wave of relief and pride. She realized that the exams had been returned in the order of their scores, and she had received a score of 89%. She wasn’t the top student, but she was close. She’d done really well.

She’d just put away her exam when a student came into the room and waved at her to let her know that it was time for her to head out to her career-counseling session. She gathered her things and set out for the room where she’d have the meeting. There was a chair in the hallway opposite the office. The door was closed, presumably because the counselor was still talking to someone, so she sat and waited for them to finish.

Yamada-sensei was relatively new at the school, and Ranma hadn’t had her for any subjects (she thought her main area might be social studies, but some of the girls she knew from other classes had her for Japanese), but she’d heard she was nice. As she waited, she thought back to the career-counseling sessions she’d had as Ranma-kun. They’d mostly been a waste of time: the counselor would urge Ranma to “apply himself to his schoolwork” because “only through hard work” could he hope to aspire to a career as a lawyer or doctor or whatever. Since Ranma-kun had never been remotely interested in those sorts of jobs, given his commitment to the Art, the sessions had been a source of frustration for both parties.

As she waited, she couldn’t help noticing that the sign reading “Counseling Office” had been pinned over the original sign for the room: “Storage Closet”. It bugged her slightly that the sign wasn’t quite straight and she considered fixing it.

Before she’d made up her mind about the sign, the door opened, and Yamada-sensei stepped out with another student from Ranma’s class, giving them the name of the next student to fetch. She turned and smiled warmly at Ranma. “Ah, Saotome-san, please come in. I’ve been looking forward to our session.”

The room was narrow, with a small square window on the far wall; it was too high to see out of, but at least it provided a little bit of natural light. The room’s fittings clearly betrayed its origins over its current temporary purpose: there were shelves along one wall loaded with various school supplies, including enough chalk and erasers to survive a lengthy national shortage, and several filing cabinets along the back wall that looked like they hadn’t been either opened or properly closed in years. Boxes stacked on top of them looked to be only a bit more recently added. In the center of the room was a small desk and two chairs, one for the counselor and one for the student. The desk was sparsely but neatly arranged, with a small stack of files, a notepad, some pens, and a little vase with a single flower in it that had probably looked nice when it was put there two days ago, but was now drooping sadly. Another small stack of files lay on the floor next to the desk.

Yamada-sensei sat behind the desk and gestured to the chair opposite her. “Please, have a seat.”

Yuki Yamada looked down at her notes and tried not to sigh; at least she was more than halfway through the pile of students she had to see, and by the end of the day, she’d be done with this added obligation, at least for this year. Finding the right page in her notebook, she thought, Oh, it’s this one.

Turning her attention to the student seated across from her, she began,“So, Saotome-san. I don’t seem to have a proper file for you, but I did ask your teachers about your exam grades. While they’re a bit of a mixed bag, overall your performance is perfectly fine, and I think you’ll have a lot of options for what you might do once you leave school.” She launched into her now familiar patter, generic but serviceable.

“For example, office work can be a great way to fill the years until you get married and start a family! I think you might find being an office lady quite rewarding. You get to wear nice clothes, meet interesting people, and you can even find a husband that way. Also, the work itself usually isn’t too demanding, so you’d have plenty of time to pursue hobbies and interests outside of work.”

The girl’s expression was inscrutable, so Yuki tried to change tack. “Of course, if you want something more challenging, there are other options. Have you thought about becoming a nurse? It’s a very rewarding career; you get to help people in their time of need.” Still no change in the girl’s expression.

She moved on to the next option from the pamphlet she’d received during the half-day’s training she’d attended. “Or, with your grades in Japanese, you might make a good elementary school teacher. You’d get to shape the minds of the next generation, and teaching is a very respected profession.”

Ranma’s face remained impassive, but in her head she had repurposed her dissociation technique and was imagining cool ice caves to help her just sit and say nothing.

Yuki sighed inwardly. She was doing her best for this girl and getting back nothing. One more try, she thought. Looking Ranma up and down, an idea occurred to her.

“You know, given your build and appearance, if you worked hard you might be able to become a flight attendant! You could travel the world, meet interesting people, and wear stylish uniforms. I’ve heard it’s a great way to spend the years before you settle down.”

Ranma kept her face neutral, but she was fuming inside. The ice-cave technique just wasn’t doing it. She had to respond. “Sensei,” she said, her voice cold, “It’s good to know that I have so many opportunities available to me. But, out of curiosity, what if perhaps I wanted to be a doctor, or even a lawyer?”

The sullen girl’s words caught Yuki off guard. She’d wanted to be a lawyer when she was in high school, before she’d abandoned the idea for more realistic goals. And she’d had better grades than this girl.

“It never hurts to have a dream, Saotome-san,” Yuki replied carefully. “But you have to be realistic about your abilities and your prospects. Becoming a lawyer or a doctor requires years of study and dedication, and, frankly, your grades aren’t quite up to that level. I think it’s better to focus on careers that are more suited to your skills.”

Ranma nodded sagely, “I expect many employers would be reluctant to hire me anyway, since I might choose to leave when I want to start a family?”

Ah, so the girl does understand how the world works after all, Yuki thought. She was just testing me. “It’s true that many employers have concerns about… ‘continuity’,” she admitted, remembering the appropriate euphemism from the training materials. “But modern Japan is changing, with new Equal Employment Opportunities laws that encourage employers to think about these issues more carefully. Today, it’s not a foregone conclusion that every company will expect you to retire if you become pregnant. And some do have real career paths for outstanding women.” She didn’t mention the part about how such a woman would clearly need an incredibly understanding husband to support her ambitions; she was tempted, but she held her tongue.

“Well,” Ranma said, standing up. “You’ve given me a lot to think about, sensei. Thank you for your time.”

Yamada-sensei looked at her roster and reminded herself of the girl’s name before standing to escort her out of the room. “You’re welcome, Ranma-san. Please let Takahashi-san know that I’m ready for her when you get back to class.” Ranma saw that Akane’s name was coming up soon, too.

As Ranma walked away, seething, Yamada-sensei greeted another student who’d been waiting, ushering them into the room and closing the door. When she got back to the classroom, she gave the nod to Takahashi-san, but didn’t go in herself. She was too mad. She stood in the hall, fuming silently. The contrast between what she’d just experienced and what he had was so stark: when she’d been Ranma-kun, the counselors had pushed her to consider all the different “meaningful careers” she could aspire to (even though she’d expressed little interest in any of them and her grades were worse back then). But now, as Ranma-san, the counselor had only offered her choices that would keep her busy until she found a husband and became a proper stay-at-home Japanese wife and mother. It made her blood boil.

And she’d seen it—that brief look of melancholy on Yamada-sensei’s face when Ranma had asked about being a lawyer. Yamada-sensei’s dreams had been pruned down, and now she just sat there, continuing the cycle, dashing the hopes of other young women just like her own had been. Ranma felt righteous anger at the injustice of it all. If she hadn’t been imagining herself in the ice cave, she might have said something she’d regret later, like, “Well, if I really try hard, maybe I can be like you, sensei, trying to forget my broken dreams until they throw me in a closet and tell me to smother the hopes of the next generation, a task that only reminds me of what I gave up.” There were a few other things that came to mind, too, but it was undoubtedly for the best that she hadn’t said any of them. But her fury remained.

She briefly wondered whether all this anger might trigger some leakage, but she didn’t think so; it was still early. She wasn’t going to go and check. If there was blood, she’d be compelled to smear it on the walls to write, “Women are people, too!” in big letters. That would teach them. She glared at a nearby wall, fantasizing about possible graffiti.

The door opened, and Akane came out of the classroom; apparently Ranma hadn’t noticed someone coming back to call Akane for her appointment. Their eyes met. Akane saw Ranma’s expression and easily joined the dots.

“Nurse?” she ventured.

“Oh, if I work hard, I could be a flight attendant,” Ranma replied bitterly. “Travel the world, meet interesting people, wear stylish uniforms, and perhaps, if I’m really, really lucky, I could marry a handsome pilot and live happily ever after raising his babies.” She spat the last word out like it was poison.

Ranma was surprised when Akane came back with, “Ooh! I’ve never gotten flight attendant!” making a show of seeming impressed. “The best I ever got was secondary-school librarian.”

Ranma watched Akane disappear down the corridor. Her humor had lightened Ranma’s mood a little, but she found that part of her was now even more annoyed because Akane clearly knew the drill but wasn’t as ready to burn down the whole social structure as she felt she was.

* * *

It wasn’t until after lunch that Ranma was able to take Akane aside and ask, “How do you put up with this stuff, Akane-chan? Boys feast at the king’s table and girls are offered crumbs from the floor. How do you deal with it?”

Akane frowned. It made her mad, too, but she’d learned to “get along to get along” as someone had said in some movie she’d seen. “Well, Ranma-chan,” she began, “it’s how things are. Of course I want things to change, to get better for women, but I also have to live in the world as it is. So I try to make the best of things. I focus on what I can control, like my own skills and my own happiness. And I try to remember that you can dream bigger than what they mark out for you.”

Kamisama, Ranma thought, they’ve got Akane doing it, too.

Ranma looked like she was getting ready to go to war against the whole of society, so Akane added, “It’s great to see your passion, Ranma-chan. Just remember to pick your battles. You can make a difference, but you have to be smart about it.” Ranma still seemed unconvinced, so she tried another tack. “I guess I’ve just had longer to deal with it, you know? I’ve had sixteen years of putting up with this crap, so I’ve learned to cope. You don’t have that experience. I guess it’s got to be a rude awakening when they used to tell you a totally different story about what you could be. You’ve seen both sides now, but most girls have only ever seen this one.”

In Ranma’s angry frame of mind, Akane’s words felt like a scathing invalidation of her womanhood. Sure, Akane had had a whole lifetime of experience of being raised as a girl in Japanese society; steeping in the subjugation of women until she barely noticed it. But Ranma-chan, well, she was just a Junko-come-lately to all this oppression. After all, she was really Ranma-kun, upset about losing the privileges he’d been granted from birth by the patriarchy. She didn’t understand what it meant to be a proper woman. She’d never even had tea parties with her dolls and told them of the circumscribed lives they could expect!

“I don’t need your condescension, Akane-chan,” Ranma snapped. “Just because I’ve only been a girl for a few weeks doesn’t mean I don’t get it. Just because I—I—”

She couldn’t find the words and she was rapidly losing her composure. She turned and ran to the bathroom, locking herself in a stall just before her tears started in earnest.

It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair. And it didn’t help at all that some of it was true. She hadn’t grown up the same way that Akane had. She was this weird new thing….

A tear splashing on the back of her hand yanked her out of her funk long enough to grab some toilet paper and dab at her eyes and nose before she messed up her uniform. Immediate disaster averted, she found her thoughts going right back to where she’d left off.

What even was she, really? Maybe Akane was right and the last couple of weeks were all just play-acting and self-delusion. Maybe she really was just Ranma-kun in a dress, deluding herself into thinking she was something she wasn’t. Maybe it didn’t matter if she had her period or not, because she was never, could never truly be a girl. Maybe she was just a fraud. Maybe she just needed to stop.

She tried to calm herself using the ice-cave technique, but it was hard. Her emotions were swirling too strongly. She felt a sharp cramp in her lower abdomen, and she winced, clutching at her abdomen. Of course. She realized that she’d forgotten to take more ibuprofen since they’d left for school. She’d have to remember to do that when she got out. And, fraud or not, the tampon needed to come out and be changed. Gross.

Akane tapped lightly on the stall’s door. “Ranma-chan, are you okay in there?”

“Go away, Akane-chan,” Ranma replied, her voice muffled. “I’m doing ‘girl things’ in here.’’

She heard Akane leave. She sighed. Hadn’t she begun the day apologizing for being a jerk to Akane? And now look at what she’d done. She’d torn into her and poor Akane probably didn’t even understand why—where it was all coming from. If she was still this much of an idiot, maybe she deserved to be called Ranma-kun after all.

Eventually she got herself straightened out, wiped her eyes and blew her nose, took a few deep breaths, checked her dress for tear stains, and finally emerged from the stall. At least no one else had witnessed her breakdown. She washed her hands, then splashed water on her face and patted it off with a paper towel, hoping that it would make it less obvious that she’d been crying, and then finally gave herself an appraising look in the mirror. Her eyes still looked a bit red, but otherwise, she thought she looked okay. “I am Ranma Saotome,” she said to her reflection, “and sometimes I’m a complete idiot.”

* * *

Swimming was next. Ranma had been a bit nervous about it with her period still happening, but the odds of an accident seemed low, and anyway, if the water went red with blood, well, So be it, she thought grimly. At least she could blame the chlorine for her reddened eyes. Then she remembered which swimsuit she’d had to grab this morning and sighed again. The embroidery across the front reading “BOY” took on a whole new meaning after her argument with Akane. Go ahead, world, think I’m a boy if you want. I don’t care anymore.

In the changing room, several girls noticed her red eyes and came over to ask if she was okay. Too bad she hadn’t had some ice.

“What happened, Ranma-chan?” Yumi asked gently.

“They told me I could grow up to be a flight attendant!” Ranma replied, adopting a saccharine tone. “And I was so joyful I was moved to tears.” The other girls obviously didn’t believe her excuse (although she thought she heard “ ‘Flight attendant’? Wow!” from the other side of the room), but they laughed dutifully and let it go. Once she’d put on her swimsuit, she felt like she had more explaining to do.

“Yamada-sensei also said that the only way to succeed in a man’s world is to be a boy, so this is my best attempt to fit in,” she said, pointing to the letters on her swimsuit. “Do you think I’ll pass?”

The girls laughed uncomfortably again. Ranma’s humor seemed a bit off, but whatever was going on with her, they felt like their safest choice was to let her be.

Akane, still feeling hurt, watched from across the room. She always said the wrong thing, it seemed. But now Ranma was literally writing the truth across her chest—that despite all outward appearances, no one should forget who and what she really was. The Ranma-kun hidden inside the cute girl was showing himself a little more, making the contradiction of his existence clearer than ever. A girl with “BOY” emblazoned across her chest had to be the epitome of mixed signals. Was it any wonder Akane got confused and said the wrong things? She wasn’t even sure what it was that she’d said that set Ranma off; she’d thought she was helping Ranma by telling her how she coped.

She sighed. No matter what form Ranma was in, she, or he, was both infuriating and lovable at the same time.

* * *

Apparently the teacher had expected them to have a race of some sort, but the class ended up being more of a general free swim. No one seemed to mind. Ranma found the cool water wasn’t just a good way for her to escape the heat of the day; the water felt good, almost like it was healing her. She headed for the deep end, took a deep breath, and slid completely under the water and sat on the bottom of the pool. She could feel that sense of pressure, the feeling from the Jusenkyo curse, enveloping her like a hug. Possibly it was also the genuine pressure from being deeper under the water than she’d been in the bathtub, but she felt the curse’s presence more strongly than she had before. Somehow it seemed to be saying, Everything’s right with the world. You are where you belong. You are safe. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been holding her breath—she almost felt like she could stay down there forever—but at some point Akane’s friends Yuka and Sayuri swam down to her to make sure she was okay.

Ranma realized immediately who must have sent them, and she surfaced, thanked them, and then swam over to the shallow end of the pool, where Akane (who had never properly learned to swim) was standing awkwardly in the water. She had to be in class, but she clearly wasn’t having much fun.

“I’m so sorry, Akane-chan,” Ranma said, once she got close enough for them to talk. “I didn’t mean to upset you earlier. I was just really mad at the world and I took it out on you. You didn’t deserve that. And there was nothing really wrong with what you said—you have been through so much more crap than I have. That’s… That’s just how it is.”

“I can see now how maybe it didn’t help to say what I did,” Akane admitted. “And I do understand where you’re coming from. We’ll try to put the world to rights, okay? We’ll give it our best shot. Together.” She smiled weakly.

Ranma smiled back, but then she thought of something else she needed to clarify. “One more thing, Akane-chan. Happousai… He stole my proper swimsuit in his disgusting raid the other night. So I’m wearing this stupid thing instead.” She gestured to her swimsuit. “It does not mean I am a boy, think I’m a boy, or want to be a boy, okay? Just… ignore it, okay?”

Mixed signals, Akane thought to herself. Always with the mixed signals. But she nodded. “Okay, Ranma-chan. I’ll ignore it.”

* * *

As they headed home after school, Ranma came to a sudden stop. She’d just remembered that she’d told Kasumi-oneechan that she wanted to cook dinner tonight so she could have a break. She kind of wished that she hadn’t, as she was pretty drained by yet another emotional rollercoaster of a day. But she had set the wheels in motion, so she had to follow through, and that meant a trip to the supermarket to get ingredients for the meal. She turned to Akane. “Akane-chan, do you want to come with me to the supermarket? I just remembered that I need to get stuff for dinner tonight.”

“Of course, Ranma-chan,” Akane replied. “I’d love to help out. I can help with the meal itself, too, if you tell me what to do.”

Ranma thought about making a wisecrack about their both getting in good training for their future roles as housewives, but she decided against it. Maybe not just now, she thought. Instead, she just smiled and said, “Thanks, Akane-chan. I’d like that.”

At the supermarket, Ranma looked at various options and decided to go with curry (in the Japanese style) since it was easy and filling and tasted great. She wasn’t sure if Kasumi-oneesan used the little cubes of curry roux or made it from scratch—I bet she takes hours lovingly preparing a secret recipe, an effort that no one notices or properly appreciates—but Ranma figured that the cubes would be fine. She and Akane went up and down the aisles to find all the things they’d need. Akane was a big help, picking out good vegetables and suggesting some nice additions like an apple to add a bit of sweetness.

Once home, they set to work in the kitchen; at Ranma’s suggestion, they pretended that chopping vegetables and stirring the pot was a kind of martial-arts training. Ranma had been afraid that she’d be too tired to cook, but cooking turned out to be a welcome distraction; soothing, even, and Akane’s presence made it more fun. She found herself relaxing as they worked, and the simple act of preparing a meal together felt grounding.

The delicious aromas permeated the whole house, and other family members kept popping their heads into the kitchen to ask when it would be ready. But Kasumi-oneechan didn’t appear until the rice cooker beeped to signal it was done. She looked like she’d enjoyed the opportunity to step back and let someone else take charge for a while. “It smells wonderful, Ranma-chan,” she said, smiling warmly. “Thank you for taking care of dinner tonight.”

Even Genma was grudgingly accepting when he got his plate of curry. “Not bad, not bad at all,” he muttered between mouthfuls. “Maybe we need an Anything Goes Special Curry Technique, eh, Tendo?” Ranma-chan just rolled her eyes silently. The food was nice, but she was definitely flagging now. She remembered to take more ibuprofen before they moved to the living room, where they watched some TV while Ranma lay with her head on Akane’s lap. When she visited the bathroom a couple of times during the evening, she thought about announcing to the world in general exactly what she was going to do there, just to fight against stigma and the patriarchy, but she just didn’t have the energy.

Eventually, it was time for bed. It had been another day where she felt like she’d been put through the wringer, but, well, wasn’t the life of Ranma Saotome always a chaotic mess with one thing to endure or another? What was it Akane had said? “You have to accept the world as it is and make the best of it”? Ranma supposed she was right. She just hoped that tomorrow would be a bit less stressful.

She was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.