Chapter 22. Monday, July 25

Ranma dreamed… She was back at the top of the cliffs of Enoshima, looking down at the sea below. There was no one else there. Just her. She dove into the water. The cold was shocking, but invigorating. She swam down. Deeper. Deeper. There didn’t seem to be a bottom, but she kept going. The water was colder now. Darker. She could feel the cold and the pressure, but not the curse, not its comfortable embrace. In the depths she could make out something, it looked like a… jellyfish, perhaps? She called for it to come but it would not. So she became the same kind of creature herself, leaving her human form behind, drifting away into the dark, forgetting all human concerns, becoming one with Mother Earth.

Ranma woke. It was a little after 2 a.m. and she needed to pee. She should have done that before bed but, well, she hadn’t really done a bunch of things she should have. She hadn’t even cleaned her teeth. She got up and went to pee.

She sat as she always did, but almost had an accident because she’d completely forgotten about her new anatomy and things felt, well, a bit uncontrolled. She tried to remember—were you supposed to hold that little fire-hose thing? Or just sort of lean forward and hope for the best? Both ways seemed like they would work, so it was kind of hard to know.

She supposed she really ought to remember; it had only been a few weeks ago that she’d done this kind of stuff without thinking about it. But that was the problem—the moment you did start thinking about it, you visualized what you imagined, and that called it all into question.

Oh, wait! Didn’t boys stand to pee? At school in a urinal, well, they’d have to, obviously. But had she done that here at home? She had vague memories of doing both. Maybe. Wasn’t sitting supposed to be healthier or cleaner or something? Which way had she done it most recently? It wasn’t like she’d kept a diary with detailed notes!

She finished, and started to reach for the toilet paper, but a vague memory stopped her hand midway. She thought that maybe you didn’t dry it off like a normal person? Instead, you were supposed to give it a shake because the design was fundamentally flawed. Weird. She shook it, but she wasn’t sure it had worked so she ended up patting it dry with some toilet paper anyway.

It was an odd sort of appendage. Probably there were other things you were supposed to do to take proper care of it, but she wasn’t excited about asking. Who could she ask, anyway? More awkwardness with Dr. Tofu? Anyway, boys weren’t supposed to ask for help, they just needed to bluff their way through life, hoping their stupidity and ignorance wouldn’t cause too much damage.

She sighed. It would probably come back to her. She was sure she’d get the hang of it all again pretty soon. It’d be second nature in no time.

* * *

Back in bed with clean teeth and fresh breath, Ranma tried to get back to sleep, but the stress of yesterday’s events and her growing contempt for her own future made that hard. There was always the asteroid, but surely that was overdoing it. I mean, you retreat to an asteroid in another galaxy when your father is torturing you and destroying your entire identity because he’s a moron who should probably be dropped into an industrial shredder, not because you can’t sleep.

But maybe it didn’t all have to be dramatic ice caves and snowy mountains or distant asteroids. Instead, she called up her map of the room and of her own body—the proper one, not the boy thing she had to suffer with in the real world. She overlaid them as a substitute for the sad reality of things. Ah, yes, this was much better! Ranma-chan rides again; at least in the world of her imagination. She choked briefly as a sob of grief tried to force itself out, and forced it back down.

Hey, grief was where it was at these days. All the cool kids were grieving. And having her body back—even if it was just in her head—was nice. And, damn it, she deserved something nice. She snuggled Mr. Bunny and fell asleep again, with only a few more tears moistening her pillow.

* * *

Kasumi had barely slept. Instead, she’d spent the night going over and over the day’s events: her misgivings about her “date”; the girls encouraging her to go anyway; the awkwardness at the hotel; and, most of all, the horror show that awaited her when she finally arrived home, having completely failed to protect the most vulnerable member of her family.

In between bouts of anger at herself for selfishly placing her own possible pleasure over her duty, she ran through everything that she’d seen or heard from the men since Ranma’s change.

They’d never hidden their distaste for Ranma’s apparent adaptation to her circumstance, and they’d obviously never seen that she had not only accepted it, but embraced it. And, of course, they’d completely missed Ranma’s period, even with her serving sekihan that night.

She’d been so focused on the girls and their issues that she’d overlooked the way their fathers’ misogyny and egoism had led them to put together such an ignorant and cruel plan to force Ranma back to “normal”—their normal. And ignorance was truly the heart of it all. They had no conception of the journey Ranma had taken or where she had arrived. To them, it was all just a temporary aberration, a phase they could draw to a close with enough force. They couldn’t begin to imagine that Ranma might actually be happier as she was, or that she might even be a better person this way. Or that those questions were worth asking. Or that Ranma’s beliefs and feelings mattered at all.

No, to them, it was just wrong, just a curse unfortunately prolonged by Cologne’s actions, and they needed no one’s permission or consent to fix it.

She should have seen it coming. Her father was a fool, but he was unlikely to have come up with their plan on his own. But it was exactly the sort of thing that Genma Saotome would come up with. The man had laughed as he told them about how he’d tortured his child in pursuit of the Cat Fist. They’d all laughed along, because it was so far outside of normal, civilized behavior that they couldn’t believe it could be anything but a funny story. But she remembered Ranma’s haunted eyes, now, when it was too late.

Why hadn’t she seen? Why hadn’t she stopped this from happening?

All night long. It was early but there was no point lying in bed any longer. She got up and went to the kitchen to make some tea and try to get the house in order before the others woke up.

* * *

Akane dreamed… She was in the dojo. Genma was on the verge of pouring the hot water, but Akane used all her strength to accelerate harder; closing the distance sooner. She knocked him down before he could pour the water on Ranma. She was so proud of herself. She’d saved Ranma-chan.

She was coming down the stairs and saw Genma leaving the kitchen. She grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and followed him to the dojo. She saw Ranma-chan tied to a board, gagged, her eyes closed. Genma approached her with a kettle of hot water. She threw her cold water at him, causing him to transform into a panda, the kettle falling from his hands. She grabbed a mallet and struck her father in the face, sending him flying across the room. She stood over Ranma-chan protectively.

She was in the dojo. Genma was there, with his kettle, but Akane had a mallet in her hand. She threw it, and it hit the kettle, sending it flying across the room. She grabbed the knife and menaced the fathers into leaving. Ranma-chan was safe.

She was in her room. It got to be 8 p.m., the time Ranma-chan was supposed to come home. She stopped playing her music and went outside to meet her. They hugged. The fathers hung about in the background, Genma holding a kettle, but Akane was there. She would watch over Ranma-chan and make sure none of their stupid schemes would work.

It was the day of the fight with Mousse. Nabiki asked Akane if there was anything she could do to help, and Akane didn’t ask her to do any research. She just said to make sure everyone loved Ranma-chan, and everything would be okay.

Akane woke with tears running down her face. She hated her dreams. It was 7:30 a.m. She should have been up by now anyway. Perhaps Ranma was already up and wondering why she wasn’t; if Akane even cared.

After she’d used the bathroom, she went to Ranma’s room, but the door was closed. She fantasized that behind the door, everything was normal. Ranma-chan was still there, the same as always, totally cute, ready to launch into the day rocking that faux just-got-out-of-bed casual look, or maybe go a step further and put on something that made her look stunning, like that summer dress or the yukata from the other day. It was so hard to know that all that had been stolen from them. It wasn’t her fault; she knew that. It was their fathers’ fault, but she still hurt.

You have to live in the world you’re in, Akane, she told herself. But what did that even mean? What if the world you were in was a world you hated? As she pondered the question, she noticed that she could hear voices—more than one—coming from inside Ranma’s room. What? She knocked on the door.

Ranma opened the door. For Akane, it was still a bit of a shock. She’d been looking straight ahead, where Ranma-chan’s face should be. But when the door opened, it was… him, and she had to look up to see his face properly. But then she had another burst of cognitive dissonance as she saw that he was wearing the cat T-shirt that Ranma-chan had worn to bed. It was a little too small for him now, but it still reminded Akane of Ranma-chan, and that was comforting. Akane stepped inside.

“I thought I heard voices?” Akane asked.

“Oh… oops; sorry, I…” Ranma stammered. “I, um, I guess I was just talking to myself a bit. Kinda play-acting, trying to get the whole Ranma-kun character down. You know, like method acting or something. I guess it’s a bit weird, huh? Working on my martial-arts vocal techniques, I guess?”

“And how good are your martial-arts vocal techniques?” Akane asked with a smile.

“You, uh, really wanna know?” Ranma asked. “Because, uh, it might freak you out. It actually freaked me out the first time, but it’s sorta cool, uh, in a way, but it… um, might upset you, so no worries if you don’t.”

“I’d love to know, Ranma” Akane said, putting on an encouraging smile she wasn’t sure she really felt.

“Well, um, close the door, and… uh, don’t tell anyone, okay?” Ranma said nervously.

Akane was intrigued but complied, closing the door and sitting down next to Ranma on the futon.

Ranma opened a drawer in her dresser and pulled out a blindfold. She handed it to Akane. “Here, put this on,” Ranma said, and maybe get comfortable. It’ll take a minute to explain.”

Akane did as she was asked, and Ranma-chan began to explain.

“Surprise! Guess who isn’t quite as gone as everyone thought?” she began.

Akane’s face lit up. It was exactly as if her beloved was here in the room. Which, yes, of course she was, but in male form. But right at this moment it sounded like the real Ranma-chan was back.

“You’re… uh… just doing a voice thing?” Akane asked, trying to wrap her mind around it.

“Yeah, sorta. I mean, it’s more than that, but it’s not like I’m actually transformed or anything. It’s kinda hard to explain, but I’ll try….”

She continued, “So… last night I was pretty down. I’m sure it’s going to get better, but right now, it’s, like, super hard to deal with not… uh… not being who I thought I was. And so I tried to come up with some coping strategies. The first one I tried was to just use my imagination… to just pretend in my head that things hadn’t changed, and to try to hold that in my mind.”

She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts.

“And then this morning when I woke up, I wanted to see if I could go a step further. I can’t look like I did or feel like I did, but maybe, just maybe, I could sound like I did. So I had a go. It was horrible at first because, well, things really aren’t the same in some ways, and you sort of have to start from scratch, but I knew what I wanted, and I just kept trying, over and over. All my martial-arts training really helped; you know, like using muscles with precision and everything. And I’ve been play-acting in various ways and doing voices all my life, so it’s not like it’s totally unknown territory; not like I had to learn everything from scratch. But what really makes it work, makes it hold together, is that I’m imagining like crazy that I really am me—her. Like, I can feel it, you know? Like, I can feel the way I used to feel. And that makes everything else come together.”

“So why do I need a blindfold?” Akane asked.

“Well, this is the part that’s a real bummer,” Ranma-chan said. “If you see me, see what I look like now, I’m pretty sure your brain will just say, ‘Oh, that’s a guy talking in a silly voice,’ and then it’ll be really hard to unhear that. And that would, like, totally crush me. I’d rather you never hear Ranma-chan’s voice again than have that happen.”

“What if I held your hand?” Akane wondered.

“Well, it’s gone all big and manly, but I guess it’s okay. Just try to imagine it’s all cute like used to be, okay?”

She took Akane’s hand in hers and squeezed it gently. Akane could feel the difference in size and texture, but she tried to imagine it was the same as before.

“Anyway, it’s just a stopgap,” Ranma continued. “I’ve got to get used to being what I’m supposed to be now. I know that. But this is sort of a way to… uh… ease back into it? Like, not giving up on Ranma-chan cold turkey, you know? Like a transition thing. I hope it helps.”

“I don’t want to give up Ranma-chan at all,” Akane said, trembling slightly.

“Don’t. Don’t say that. We can’t spend our lives wearing blindfolds, Akane-chan. And look, we can take Ranma-kun and build him back better, right? Make the kind of guy a girl would actually want to be with. It’s not like I didn’t used to be able to make it work. I’ll find it again, but, you know, be less of a jerk and stuff. I’ll be better. For you. Tell you what, wanna meet Ranma-kun?”

“I suppose so,” Akane said hesitantly.

Ranma-chan stopped working so hard to imagine herself, opened her eyes, looked in the mirror at him and tried her very best, watching her reflection as she talked.

“So, uh… Hi, Akane. It’s me, Ranma-kun. Doin’ all the fighting, and, uh, stuff. Hope we can still, uh… hang out and stuff, you know? Like, uh….” He ground to a halt.

“Besties!” Ranma-chan exclaimed. “Besties forever! Why can’t I say that as him?”

“I dunno,” Ranma-kun replied, “I kinda think that was, like, a special time, and, uh, I don’t think I earned it yet, yeah?”

“This is weird,” Akane said. “It’s like there are two of you in the room, arguing.”

“Yeah, well, I’m like a glove puppet right now,” Ranma-kun admitted, “and she’s just, like, pulling my strings.”

“And I don’t even exist anymore, not really,” Ranma-chan added sadly.

“So we’re a bit of a mess,” Ranma-kun concluded.

“I think I get it now,” Akane said. “You’re using this as a way to deal with everything. To not have to face it all at once.”

“Right. It’s a coping mechanism, Akane-chan. Hopefully we can make Ranma-kun real and then we’ll be good to go,” Ranma-chan said.

“Yeah,” Ranma-kun agreed, “I mean, I hope so too. I wanna be a real boy, like Pinocchio or somethin’ ”

“And I really don’t,” Ranma-chan said firmly. “But anyway, our secret, right?”

“Whatever you need, Ranma-chan, whatever you need,” Akane said softly.

As Akane considered everything, she realized that she needed to be strong for Ranma-chan. She needed to try to make this plan work (but if need be, also be ready with something else). It was all just about what you believed in your head, wasn’t it? If you let yourself believe that Ranma-chan and Ranma-kun were different people, then that would be how it was, but if you tried, if you remembered that inside each was the same soul, well, did it even matter what was on the outside? She’d liked Ranma-kun, loved him in his way, and surely she could take the love that had grown between her and Ranma-chan and transfer it? Right? If you told yourself, if you really believed that they were the same person, which they surely were, that wasn’t so hard. And you didn’t have to say “-chan” or “-kun”, you could just say “Ranma”, say that there was just one “Ranma” and maybe she was—he was—they were—different now than they had been, but did that matter? Was she so shallow that if Ranma-chan had been in an accident and scarred her pretty face, she’d turn away? She wasn’t so shallow, was she? This… this was an accident, and she was better than that. She could make herself believe. She would make herself believe. She had to.

“Let’s try,” she said eventually. “All aboard the good ship Ranma-kun. Let’s make him a real boy. It’s our project. We’ll grieve, and we’ll know, but we’ll method act our way forward until, like the leopard warriors of old, we’ve forgotten what we were and only know what we are.”

“Method acting for the win,” Ranma-kun said, sadly.

“I love Ranma-kun, he’s my bestie forever,” Akane said firmly, deciding it was true and she would manifest it.

Ranma’s heart swelled. She squeezed Akane’s hand. No, she forced herself to think it, he squeezed Akane’s hand. “I love you too, Akane-chan. Besties forever,” Ranma-kun said softly.

Akane took off her blindfold and looked at the young man sitting on the bed next to her. He was very attractive. It was indulgent to the extreme to consider having to love this person as some kind of cosmic punishment. She leaned forward and gently kissed Ranma-kun on the cheek. It was brief, but it felt good for both of them. “Besties, Ranma. Besties.”

She managed to get back to her room before she lost it, sobbing.

* * *

Dr. Tofu paced in his office, still trying to think after a fitful night in his small apartment. It wasn’t just the events of the previous day that kept cycling through his mind, but his complicity in what had gone before. How many times had Ranma been at his office, injured in one way or another, and how many times had he failed to ask the right questions, to see the signs that something was very wrong at home? He’d always assumed that the tales Ranma and Akane told about Ranma’s father were exaggerations; the sort of stories kids told to make their lives seem more exciting. But now he realized that there had been warning signs all along, and he had been blind to them.

Some of the blame lay with his infatuation with Kasumi Tendo, of course. He’d known her ever since his residency, meeting her during her mother’s final days. He’d been mortified to realize later just how much younger she was than she appeared to be in that first meeting, aged by circumstance. And then when he took over his practice, he’d found her again; a constant presence, always kind, always supportive, always beautiful. Their age difference was no longer the solid block it had been, and he’d fallen for her, hard. Unfortunately, his one-sided enchantment drove him into a state of distraction in her presence that had apparently clouded his judgment as much as his verbal skills and physical coordination.

And then, just when it seemed like they might have a chance together after all, whatever horror had happened to Ranma last night had broken through his fog, his failure to see the ongoing pattern of abuse, and left both his sense of who he was and what he believed in and his professional reputation tangled up in the mess.

He sighed. Now that he’d seen it, there was no going back. Even if it destroyed any possibility of a relationship with Kasumi, he had to report the abuse to protect Ranma—and possibly also the Tendo girls—from their fathers.

But how could he even begin to tell this story to the Child Consultation Center? He would never have believed the notion of magical curses if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. How could he explain that without sounding like a lunatic? He’d have to stick to the facts: the injuries, the emotional state of the child—children, even—and leave out the fantastical elements. He could, he reasoned, only speak to what he had directly observed. He’d been told about the CPR, and seen some evidence of it, but he hadn’t witnessed it himself.

And how could he really explain Ranma’s tragic situation now? He’d seen her on Saturday; how she glowed; her confidence and joy in embracing her newfound womanhood. And now, just two days later, it seemed like all that had been snatched away.

He felt a pang of guilt. If only he’d been more perceptive, more proactive—less besotted—maybe things could have been different. Why had he never met with her father? Tried to help him to understand what was happening to his child…

He tried to gather his thoughts; focus on what had to happen now, and leave the recriminations for later. Right now, he had to figure out how to explain the situation in an official report to the authorities.

The whole thing made him anxious. He hated confrontation, and dealing with any government agency was always fraught with peril. Whatever his intentions or hopes might be, once the report had been made, whatever happened was out of his hands.

Also, he worried that the combined emotional pressure from all those sources might cause his ability to speak understandably to deteriorate in the same way it did when he was nervous around Kasumi. Wait… In that moment, he saw a partial way out. He would let his speech be somewhat incoherent. He would allow his report to be confused, disjointed, and ambiguous. The authorities would still investigate, but at least he wouldn’t be pushing any specific narrative or asking for any particular action. He didn’t think the situation would work out well, no matter what he did or didn’t do, but he could at least try to minimize the damage to Ranma and the Tendo sisters while protecting his professional and personal self-image.

He found the number and dialed it.

* * *

By the time Akane had sorted herself out and gotten ready for the day, it was nearly 10 a.m. In the kitchen, under a paper towel, were a couple of onigiri, one with salmon, one with pickled plum, and a small plate of chilled cucumber slices with salt. There was also a note from Kasumi: “Akane-chan, eat when you’re ready. Cold barley tea in the fridge. — Kasumi”

Kasumi-oneechan was always so thoughtful. She always looked after everyone. Akane thought about the way her dreaming mind had turned the previous day’s events into guilt, and wondered what Kasumi’s had done. It probably told her that she should never have tried to take even just one day for herself, that she should never do that again, that she needed to be there, that she needed to serve as protector for everyone. Akane would have to try to help her see it differently: that she was a hero for the way she’d stood up to her father and Genma and demanded they leave.

Akane was still standing in the kitchen, food finished, staring into space, when Kasumi came in.

“How are you bearing up, Akane-chan?” Kasumi asked gently.

“I’m mad at our father for sure. Genma, he’s an idiot, he’s cruel, but our father, he should have known better. Or at least I thought he would, but maybe he was always just as bad and I couldn’t see it. But mostly, I’m trying to adjust to how everything has changed, and I’m trying to figure out how I can help Ranma get through it. It’s good that she’s alive, but she needs to find a way to live. Or, I suppose, I should say he does. It’s all so hard.” Akane sighed.

“It is hard, Akane-chan. But you are strong, and Ranma is strong, too. Together, you will find a way through this. We all will,” Kasumi said reassuringly, to herself as much as to Akane. But then she needed to continue, “But there is one more challenge we have to face.”

Akane’s face fell. Oh, no. What now? After a moment, she gestured to encourage Kasumi to continue.

Kasumi drew a deep breath “Early this morning, Dr. Tofu called. He was very apologetic, but after what he saw last night, he felt like he had no choice but to make a report to the Child Consultation Center. He did his best not to make things sound too dramatic, but he has a legal duty to make a report, and I told him I understood. And just now, I got a phone call from the CCC. They will be making a home visit this Wednesday at 2 p.m. to check on Ranma’s welfare.”

“Oh,” Akane said, “I see.” She could see from Kasumi’s expression that she thought this was bad; that it was, in fact, very bad. She didn’t know a great deal about the Child Consultation Center, but she’d heard stories about both incompetence and heavy-handed action. That did not bode well.

“We’ll figure it out,” Kasumi said softly, hoping it was true.

Akane gave Kasumi-oneechan a big hug, and then set out to find Ranma. Presumably, she would be in the dojo trying to work off some of the stress from the past 36 hours. There had always been a small sign on the way into the dojo from the house reading “Tendo Dojo”, mirroring the larger sign outside, but someone had tacked a piece of paper on it, adding “and torture palace”. It had to have been Ranma; she had a way of trying to laugh even at some of the bleakest things. Akane could hear the sounds of practice from inside, a body hitting the mat. She mentally prepared herself to enter, to remember that she’d see him. She could do this. It was still Ranma, no matter the shell.

“Hi, Ranma!” she said, trying her best to sound natural, “Is training helping?”

The young man got to his feet in front of her, looking nicely put together in his gi. She couldn’t help noticing his hair. It was stylishly disarranged. It looked exactly like he’d gotten out of bed, thrown on the gi, and headed down to train without even putting a comb through his hair, but somehow managed to look fantastic anyway. She knew that look. Artistic untidiness. She knew how carefully crafted it was, because Ranma-chan could rock it equally well, and often had. It was a nice, if poignant, reminder that under that shell was the same person she loved.

“Hi, Akane,” Ranma said, smiling warmly. “Yeah, I think that training is helping. Wanna spar? I really need someone else to knock me down, like, over and over. I need practice falling because my center of gravity is in the wrong— is in a different place now, and I need to recalibrate.”

“I’m not sure I want to knock you down, Ranma,” Akane said with concern, “I mean… you got put through the wringer yesterday, and your body needs time to heal.”

“Gotta hold back, eh? Don’t wanna fight me because I’m a boy and boys are all weak and stuff?” Ranma taunted jokingly, echoing their past arguments but with a gender flip.

“Fine,” Akane said. “I won’t hold back. Let’s spar.”

“I am gonna let you beat me, though,” Ranma said, “because today, that’s the point. Maybe you can learn some new ways to knock a guy over into the bargain. Tomorrow though, well, watch out.”

The session was exhausting, but the physicality of it was good. Ranma sometimes got up slowly from falls, likely masking pain from yesterday’s injuries being aggravated, but otherwise, he was doing well. Akane could see that he was trying hard to adjust to his new (or was it old?) body, and she admired his determination. They had enough time to each take a shower before lunch. It would be good to cool down and wash off the sweat.

“Me first for the shower!” Ranma said as they started to leave the room. “I wonder, am I required to take a hot one these days?” He suddenly fell to his knees and launched into a performance.

“ ‘Please, Cologne-san, give me the Phoenix Pill, because without hot water, my life will be forever incomplete!’ ”

Akane laughed, but she was also struck by something. Anyone watching it would see it as an exaggerated theatrical performance, a guy feigning a romantic girl pleading, except, well, it was too good. Ranma had said earlier that Akane shouldn’t ever hear the Ranma-chan voice and see her male form without the cognitive dissonance ruining everything, but she’d just broken her own rule and, well, it hadn’t. It was like some version of Ranma-chan was really there, just for a flash. Boy who became girl who became boy again theatrically pretends to be girl who is herself pretending to want to be a boy again. This stuff could do your head in!

Ranma was already long gone before she finished her train of thought. She looked back around the dojo from the doorway. This was where she’d stood last night. Someone had been here, cleaned it all up, taken the board and ribbons away, mopped up the water and the little specks of blood. Probably Kasumi; possibly Nabiki. As she walked out, she removed Ranma’s addition to the sign; that could be her contribution to the clean-up effort.

For lunch, Kasumi had prepared hiyashi chūka, a cold ramen salad. It was a summer classic, cold and refreshing but also substantial. It took some effort to prepare, so it was also evidence that Kasumi was seeking comfort in routine things. The colorful toppings provided visual contrast to the somber mood that everyone seemed to share, and they could all customize their bowls by taking what they wanted.

Akane remembered that she hadn’t mentioned the phone call from the Child Consultation Center to Ranma yet, so she broached the subject, and Ranma tried to add some humor to it.

“So, I guess Chapter 55 of the Ranma Saga is ‘Ranma-kun in the Care Home’? Actually, it should be a manga! We can have a panel where I’m holding a bowl like Oliver Twist.”

“It’s serious, Ranma,” Nabiki interjected, “Kasumi isn’t old enough to be anyone’s guardian, and if they decide our dads aren’t fit parents, we might all be split up. And they almost certainly wouldn’t try to keep you with any of us. It’s a real risk and we have to work out what to do. We have to make a plan.”

Ranma knew that. That was exactly the point she’d already made, but with dark humor. You had to laugh, right? So she continued in the same vein, “Oh, we should surely just tell the truth. There was a magical curse, you see, and our fathers were just, you know, trying to manipulate eldritch forces, like we all like to do on a Sunday evening, and, well, there was a bit of a mix-up, and oopsie-doo, now all the magic is gone. No, we can’t prove it or anything, because, you know, magic gone. Oh, but Ranma still has this crazy cat mode we could show you, if you like? Take your time thinking about it as she might literally tear you to pieces! But don’t worry, no trauma for her as she won’t even remember. Neat, huh?”

“Him,” Akane corrected gently, knowing Ranma would want the reminder that she was supposedly playing the Ranma-kun character right now.

“Yes, yes, of course, him,” she replied, gesturing expansively to herself, “I’m rocking the whole teen-idol pop-star vibe these days.”

In that moment, Ranma had a thought. It was a terrible thought, but it was the only one that made sense.

“Actually… You know what, let’s just all play Happy Families. Bring the dads back, and put on a good show for the social worker.”

“I don’t think that’s realistic, Ranma,” Kasumi said firmly. “It’s asking too much, especially of you.”

“I’m all in,” Ranma countered. “I’m all about the coping and performance.” She paused and took on a more serious tone. “I really do mean it. We can’t let them separate us, and we can’t tell the truth. Pretending is the only way. What is it they say? ‘Play the hand you’re dealt’? Well, that’s our hand, and we need to play it. In fact, we probably need to practice.”

“What do you mean, Ranma?” Akane asked.

“Well, they’re coming on Wednesday, right?” she replied. “So, tomorrow, that’s the dress rehearsal. That’s where we get the bugs out of our performances, make sure we can all play our parts for the audience.”

“It could work,” Nabiki allowed.

Kasumi had deep misgivings, but she nodded. Akane nodded, too, resigned. At least they had a plan.

* * *

In the afternoon, Akane asked if she could read the materials Dr. Tofu had given Ranma all those weeks ago, and Ranma went back to the dojo to work on “fluidity and precision”, saying, “There’s more to martial arts than brute strength.” Kasumi spoke with the fathers briefly on the phone when they asked about stopping by, but it was Nabiki who took over when they arrived. She considered dealing with them to be a negotiation and that she was the best suited for such tasks.

At dinner, they all reconvened. Nabiki had done the best she could. The fathers would come by on Tuesday for the practice session and then return to the business hotel where they were staying, but on Wednesday, they wanted to return home properly—apparently the sound of the trains and the nearby station was bothering them. She’d pushed back hard, but she didn’t really have any leverage to say “no” given the stakes. The compromise led to another few somber moments, but Ranma tried her best to deflect.

In the evening, they watched some TV. Ranma let Akane be the one snuggling under her arm this time, which made more sense given her oversized body. It was nice. Just a boy and a girl, watching TV together. They were playing Happy Families already.

In bed that night, in her cat-themed sleep tee, she was glad to just push the real world out of her mind entirely and go back to being her proper self again in the cozy world of fantasy. Cheating perhaps, but, hey, coping strategies, right? Get through this day, get through the next one. Nothing wrong with allowing yourself a few nice things. She fell asleep with a gentle smile on her face.