Chapter Text
The pond frozen over, all space outside for training covered in snow and ice. The dojo was comfortable, cozy even, but with this kind of weather it was hard to convince anyone used to the comforts of the indoors to do any sort of martial exercise. Besides, both of the only current residents of the Tendo home had already exhausted that avenue of time-killing earlier in the day.
Kasumi was out on a trip to a hot springs with an old friend from when she was in high school, Nabiki was in another ward entirely on a “business trip”. Genma and Nodoka were both out at their own home, directing repairs and furnishing the few rooms that currently were set in place. Soun, for once, had an actual job to do: attending a local community council meeting to figure out what to do about the sudden snowstorm in the first place. And Happosai? A popsicle somewhere in Hokkaido. Or maybe Hiroshima. It might’ve been Hell? She really didn’t care to remember where specifically, just something with an H.
That left Akane, isolated from the world beyond with no one but Ranma, to whittle the time away with any number of odds and ends, knowing they wouldn’t be interrupted for at least several more hours, until her father returned. Maybe on a normal day, they could expect a visit from a certain bandanna-clad martial artist, or a horde of amazons, or a chef and kunoichi tag-team, or, eugh, a Kuno. Hell, anything else could randomly show up on the doorstep and interrupt this quiet: since the Saotomes first appeared on the doorstep, its felt like anything could decide to drop in and ruin her day.
But not today. Not on a day like this.
With snow thick enough to reach past your knees, wind howling louder than a speeding train, and cold biting enough to freeze the blood already in your body, nobody would be pig-headed enough to walk around for a challenge now. Even months after the failed wedding, nobody in their right mind would want to attempt to stir the pot.
So that left her. Alone.
With Ranma.
Both just sitting under the kotatsu, across from one another, with cups of tea. TV on in the corner of the room that neither were paying attention to, playing a rerun of some anime about a wolf boy and a regular girl who can’t properly communicate their feelings. Or something like that, again, definitely not paying attention.
Nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one to interrupt them. No one to stop Akane’s train of thought from picking up a few things.
She never knew Ranma was much of a reader - the guy’d been so absorbed in his book, it seems like he hadn’t looked up from it in over an hour. She can’t get a good read of the front cover, but Akane mused that it must just be some kind of training manual or other thing to help with his martial arts. He’d been so absorbed in his reading that he hadn’t even touched his tea - poured a while ago, all the steam long since faded out. Ranma never was the kind of guy to like lukewarm tea though… Maybe he’s just cautious because of the curse? But that doesn’t even make sense, he still had hot drinks in his gir-
“Yer starin, y’know.” Ranma mumbled, eyes not leaving the book as he turned a page.
Blushing, instinctively biting back, Akane stuttered out, “There’s nothing in here to even stare at, jackass!”
“Mmmmmhmmmm.” Ranma hummed, not dignifying the quip with more of a response. Unable to hold her gaze any longer, Akane pointedly stared somewhere between the floor and her shoulder. Then, slowly, shifting her gaze to the corner with the TV. Then back at the book she was trying to read, the tea kettle, and finally another random spot on the floor.
A memory, then, hitching a ride on her train of thought, and not letting go. Remembering the time, just a bit after Ranma first got into Furinkan, when her cursed fiance was kissed by a pervert at an ice rink. Martial Arts Ice Hockey, or something like that? Too many challenges and weirdos have cropped up since then for her to remember that fight all that clearly.
But the way Ranma reacted, held himself after the fact, when it was just the two of them in the dojo. The quiet moment where the two actually talked, clumsily, shouting of course, but more honestly than they had, in general up to that point.
Or the time with Ranma, not exactly admitting, but not openly denying, wanting to hold her hand on the return trip from Ryugenzawa. The way he got quiet and contemplative from a simple sign of affection.
And most recently, on their way back from Jusenkyo… that still moment with the rain pouring down over the flooded springs, Ranma admitting he really didn’t care about his curse - he only cared about making sure she was okay.
No one to bother them. No one to interrupt them… ignoring the fact that the first example had a very noticeable, memorable, aggravating interruption.
Akane looked back over to Ranma, then, still absorbed in the book, still seemingly nonchalant about relaxing in his cursed form, still quiet.
Still so quiet. No posturing about manliness, or at least nothing genuine. No overbearing cockiness about his own ability. Pride, sure, but not… what she’s expected of Ranma, so much of the time.
Moving before thinking, impulsively riding the train that had taken control of her thoughts, not caring what station it landed at or how ice-ridden the tracks to its destination were. Akane sat up, moved around to the other side of the kotatsu, and sat down next to Ranma, her eyes locked on his book.
“Wha- ‘Kane, what are ya,-” He sputtered, staring at her wide-eyed.
“Didn’t know you were interested in art history, Ranma. Where’d you get the book from?”
Scoffing, Ranma muttered just loud enough for her to hear, “There’s libraries around here, ya know, tomboy.”
Akane flicked his forehead gently (or at least, as gently as someone as strong as her was capable of), and pouted, “You know that’s not what I mean, dummy. You’re always asleep in class - what’s got you so invested in art history?”
The cursed martial artist shrugged, directing his glare back at the book he had been absorbed in. “Less about tha history, more about tha art. Don’t really expect’a gorilla like you ta get it.”
“Oh yeah, the gorilla who actually has a life outside of taking on whatever random martial arts challenge passes by couldn’t understand art?”
Rather than falling into their usual banter, Ranma only side-eyed Akane. “Exactly.” he coldly offered, before going back to his reading.
On any other day, maybe Akane would’ve forced the point more. Would’ve gotten angry in turn about Ranma insulting her intelligence, built pressure up and up and up until the two were throwing fists alongside verbal barbs. Maybe it was because the only thing colder than Ranma’s tone was the temperature, or her own curiosity being piqued. A single, satisfying explanation (that Akane wasn’t embarrassed to admit) wouldn’t be revealed for her. Taking a deep breath, Akane leaned away from Ranma, head resting on her hand as she looked through the door and at the weather outside.
“Then… could you at least explain why you’re interested in it for me?”
If not for the wind roaring outside, bashing into the house with as much force as Mother Nature could muster, or the TV in the corner being the last bastion of some kind of activity, the only sound that could be heard in the whole Tendo dojo would be a needle dropping.
The only sound coming from either resident of the house was silence.
‘The snow’s gotta be beautiful outside’, Akane thought to herself, ‘even if the weather’s too awful to look out and enjoy it.’
She couldn’t even hear her own breath.
“Gotta start somewhere, ya know?” Ranma spoke into the quiet, punctuating his rhetorical question with a page-turn.
Akane turned back to look at the currently red-headed permanent houseguest.
“Gotta have some kinda master to learn any new sorta skill from. Figured it’d be best ta learn from tha best, since it’s so easy ta study and learn from tha old masters when it comes to this, before I try and make somethin’ myself.”
A smile unknowingly crept onto her face at Ranma’s casual declaration. “That seems… really like you, you know.”
Ranma turned fully away from the book and grumbled at Akane, “Oh, and what’s that supposed ta mean?”
Rapidly shaking her hands in between themselves, Akane tried to pacify Ranma and clear up what she meant, smile growing wider all the while, “No, no, I just mean, it seems like a very… ‘you’ approach. Learning from whoever you can, wherever you can, before you dive head-first into some challenge and create all your own techniques or ways to use what you learned.”
Frustration (mostly) disarmed, Ranma sat in silence for a moment, before answering. “Well… I ain’t doin this for some challenge, ya know.”
“Oh, I assumed that much, at least.” Akane cheekily continued.
“W-wha-huh?”
“Oh, come on, dummy.” Akane continued, pointing at Ranma with a finger lazily drawn from the hand she wasn’t using to rest her head. “If this was for ‘Martial Arts Calligraphy’ or ‘Martial Arts Self Portrait’ or some other challenge, I would’ve probably been right there with you when you got challenged in the first place.”
Ranma’s face turned as red as his hair for a brief moment, stuttering under his breath something that Akane didn’t catch. Though to be fair, she didn’t exactly get why he reacted like that to her simple observation, either. “W-well, I mean. You, uh… y’remember the, wedding, right?”
Nodding in response, Akane could only furrow her brows in confusion, not really seeing where this was going at all.
“Well, I mean. Outta all the ‘guests’ that dropped in er Nabs invited or whoever else… it was basically all’ just martial artists. Sure, Ma was there, and Tofu too, but fer the most part the only real ‘non martial artists’ was yer whole friend group from class. All just folks we’ve met through one challenge or engagement or another.” Letting the thought sit in the air for a moment, Ranma turned back to the book, staring a hole into the page showcasing a warmly colored sky and a single boat crossing still waters. “I’m glad I know em’ all, even if they put me in as much debt as Ma and Pops are in for the house repairs. But I just… figure, ya know. Maybe if the only thing I knew wasn’t martial arts, maybe the dojo wouldn’t a been a pile’a charred rubble fer months. Maybe If I knew other stuff, or had some other skill ta my name besides bein the greatest martial artist around… things could be quiet around here more often.”
Akane couldn’t exactly say she was stunned by Ranma’s thoughtfulness anymore. But something about his earnestness… the way he talked with her in these quiet moments when no one else was around, it still surprised her a bit, knowing that this was the same guy who would throw around blasts of energy and fists faster than a train the moment someone insulted his 'manly pride'. She was still struggling to admit it to herself, at least a bit, but…something about it made her heart beat just a little faster.
Getting away from that train of thought as quickly as she could, Akane decided to instead turn her attention to the same page Ranma seemed to be reading. Looking at the painting listed, and the brief description of why it was made and the techniques used to create it, a question bubbled up to her mind. Just as Ranma turned the page, Akane’s words flowed freely like water. “So why are you still a girl right now, anyways?”
“... figured it’d be easier ta be a girl now, since there’s so much cold around outside, in case anyone decided now wa tha time ta start trouble.” A light blush settled on Ranma’s face for just a moment, before Akane’s attention was once again drawn to the cup of tea sitting before the martial artist… and chose to push the topic just a little bit further. “What did you mean, anyways?” Ranma turned back to look at her, a question painted across her expression, but going unasked. “At Jusenkyo, about forgetting about curing the curse.”
“W-well I mean, it’s just.. You know, it’s not like… you were there, it was-”
Ranma would’ve likely kept stumbling over her words, not coming to any sort of definitive answer, with Akane having to stew with a few other unbidden thoughts about the martial artist before her.
If not for being interrupted by a loud, sudden, human pounding at the door.
Assuming it was just her father coming back from whatever council meeting he was holed up in, Akane put a finger to Ranma’s lips in the hopes that it’d shush her, for just a moment, instead of leading to an argument neither seemed to really want to have that day, and rose up to move to the door. ‘It didn’t sound like Father’s usual knocking, though…’ she idly mused, before opening the front door, only to be greeted with the biting wind, frigid snow, and “P-chan, what are you doing out here in this weather?” The piglet only sneezed in response, being quickly scooped up in Akane’s arms, the door quickly shut on the storm and the weird backpack that looked like Ryoga’s or Mr Saotome’s outside.