Well, that’s done. Safely married and off on their honeymoon without any surprise attacks from the Black Rose. I guess everything’s over now. What was that thing Kunou was spouting the other day? Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow… one tomorrow after another, open the restaurant, work all day, close up, go upstairs, alone… without Ranchan… “Yow!” Ukyou, not looking where she was going, tripped over some small object and sprawled on the sidewalk.
“Bwee!” said the offending object.
Slowly she picked herself up. “What the… P-chan! You okay, fella?”
The little pig gave a human-looking nod.
Ukyou laughed, a bitter little sound, dangerously close to a sob. “Little guy, I swear you understand everything I say. Well, how about comin’ home with me tonight? I could really use the company.” She paused, blinked. “I think if I’m alone tonight I might do something really, really stupid.” She picked herself up, inspecting the damage. Not much to herself, but her best pants were only fit for the trash. Oh well, one less reminder… “Come on, sugar,” she said, picking him up. “I’ll look you over and we’ll have a little party, just you and me.” Gods, Akane’s pet piggie. Ucchan, you’re gettin’ pathetic. But right now even that little creep Tsubasa’d look good, ’cept last I saw him he was runnin’ away from that kissin’ bandit ice skater.
She let herself in the shop’s rear entrance, took a bottle from the storeroom, and took it and the piglet upstairs. Lights flooded on. “We’ll turn these off in a minute, but right now…” She went into the bathroom and unconcernedly took off her clothes. The pig turned around and hid its eyes, whimpering. “Well, aren’t you the silly fellow! Did Akane teach you that?” She put on her favorite yukata, dark blue with a pattern of maple leaves. Will you take care of me for the rest of our lives? She fought the memory down, forced herself to focus on P-chan. “Okay, sugar, let’s have a look at you… no scrapes or bumps. I guess you’re OK. Ne? Now let’s get the party started.”
She took out a futon and spread it on the floor, adding pillows and quilts. Then she rummaged in a closet and brought out a little electric sake-warmer. “I haven’t used this, so I don’t know if it works,” she said. “The bank was giving them away when I opened my account. And in this box should be the sake cups… oh damn.”
“Bwee?”
“No, nothing to worry about. This isn’t the box I thought it was. There’s some sake cups in it though. My mom’s wedding set.” She set down the three nested cups, similar to the ones Ranma and Akane had drunk from earlier, and placed another object next to them. “Maybe the kami are trying to tell me something.” She filled the warmer’s decanter from the bottle she had brought upstairs, and turned off the lights.
“There,” she went on. “Look. We got the whole moon all to ourselves.” She filled the largest cup, set it in front of the pig. “Want some?” The pig shoved it back toward her with his nose. “Don’t drink, ne? Smart P-chan.” She drained the little cup. “Dumb Ucchan. I know it doesn’t solve anything, but… somehow I just don’t want to go through tonight sober. If I do I’ll think about… oh, never mind, what does a pig know about love?” She filled the cup again, splashing a little on the table as her hand shook. “Yuck, damn thing overheats.” Another drained cup. “You know what Akane did today? She got m-married. To Ranchan.” Her voice wavered; tears spilled out of her brown eyes. She drank again. “I used to dream he’d look at me like that, the way he was looking at her. But he never did. No matter how hard I tried, he never saw…” She upended the little decanter over the cup, shaking out the last drops. She was beginning to feel warm and a little detached. She refilled the decanter, her hand steadier now, and set it back down on the heating unit.
While she waited for the sake to heat, she examined the cup, turning it over and over in her hands. “Do piggies remember their moms? I don’t remember mine. She died when I was born. All I ever had was Oyaji, and he… I guess it was ’cause my mom died… and ’cause I was a girl. He wanted a son, you see, wanted a son so bad… I don’t remember when I started thinking that maybe he’d love me if I were a boy. I never even had any girl’s clothes till I moved here… even my name’s really a guy’s name, not that anybody notices ’cause it’s so old-fashioned.”
P-chan made a distressed-sounding little noise. She didn’t notice.
“Then… then there was Ranchan. He was… he was always so happy. He came around trying to steal okonomiyaki, and it was like a big game to him. He had so much fun even Oyaji laughed. Every day he came around, and every day we fought, and I tried so hard to beat him to make Oyaji proud of me, but Ranchan… even when I did beat him he always laughed. He and his dad had so much fun… I wanted to go with them. That was really the first time I was glad I was a girl because I could get married and get away from Oyaji and always being… never quite good enough. Then one day Oyaji told me that in the morning Ranchan and his father were leaving, and that I was going with them. I’d live with them, and when we grew up Ranchan and I would get married. I was so happy… then they ran off and left me. The other girls… I couldn’t stand to be around them, the way they whispered. And Oyaji… it wasn’t till a long time later that I found out he’d done it to get rid of me. He and that louse Genma, both tryin’ to scam each other…”
She drained the cup again and stared at it. “I was gonna marry Ranchan with these cups, just like my mom and dad were married with them. And I’d carry this too.” She picked up the other object she had set on the table. It was a kaiken, a bride’s ceremonial knife. In the dim light the blade gleamed with the wavy pattern of watered silk. “A bride’s honor,” she whispered. “My honor, to give to my Ranchan.” She stared at it. “But he didn’t want my honor. Didn’t want me. I was cute, and I could cook, and I could fight, and I always listened, and I thought… I may not be much of a girl, but I’m better at it than Akane. But I wasn’t. He didn’t love me. I guess nobody…” She stared at the blade. “When nobody wants what you’ve got to give… what’s left?”
“Bwee!” squealed P-chan, jumping onto her lap.
She laughed. “Well aren’t you the smart piggie! I guess you’ve had a lot of practice listening to Akane tell you her troubles.” She scratched the little animal under his chin as if he were a cat. “You trying to tell me you’d like me?”
The little pig stared at her out of huge round eyes, head cocked on one side, then pressed against her body.
“That’s sweet. It’s easy to see why Akane likes you so much. But then she can pick the good ones, or she wouldn’t have picked my Ranchan. If you were a guy… if a guy as sweet as you liked me…” She set the pig back on the table and fumbled with the tie of her yukata. “I wish you were a guy, P-chan. If you were… and you could hold me… then maybe you could stop me doing this.” Her cheeks were wet. “’Cause I sure can’t stop myself.” She took off the tie and bound her ankles together tightly. “I’m sorry, P-chan.”
P-chan whimpered.
“I know you don’t understand. Pigs don’t understand about love, or honor, or anything that makes being human so complicated. They don’t understand about being… not good enough. Not a good enough boy for Oyaji… not a good enough girl for Ranchan…” She was kneeling, facing the window with the full moon framed in it. Unbelted, the yukata slipped from her shoulders; she shrugged out of the sleeves. Moonlight silvered her, dappled with the sharply-defined shadows from the branch outside the window. She unbound her hair and shook it out over her shoulders. It flowed over her back nearly to her waist. She picked up the kaiken.
P-chan crouched on the table, quivering, frozen.
“‘I loved the beauty of the flowers in springtime; in autumn the glory of moonlight was my delight,’” she quoted softly. “I’ve always loved that one…” She was a statue of silver and shadow, facing the full moon. Then, slowly, she raised the kaiken, held it at arms’ length in both hands, the point facing her, and threw her head back. Moonlight glinted from the blade. “Ranchan…” She drove the point toward her throat.
With an earsplitting squeal, P-chan launched himself toward her. She backhanded by reflex; he flew back toward the table and knocked over the sake-warmer. Heated wine spilled over him…
She fell sideways, the knife flying from her hands to land, clattering, against the far wall. She tried to go after it, but between her drink-muddled coordination and the fact that her ankles were still bound, she sprawled across the futon, weeping. “Not good enough,” she sobbed. “Not even good enough to goddamn die!”
“Ssh, no, Ukyou-san,” soothed a male voice. “It’s all right, it’s all right.” The voice was familiar but she couldn’t place it, couldn’t think who called her Ukyou-san… Konatsu never called her that and he was gone anyway… it wasn’t Ranchan (never Ranchan again)… there were hands on her, big and callused… holding her against a body hard and comforting as sunwarmed stone… smooth skin, wet and sticky and smelling of sake… “I guess I help you out this time,” the voice murmured and that wasn’t right but she couldn’t think why… couldn’t… the fog of alcohol and emotional exhaustion swallowed questions and pain and everything.
Half the population of Nerima was chasing Happousai around inside her head. Uhhh. Guess I lost… Light stabbed through her closed eyelids, straight to the back of her skull. She rolled over to escape it, but the movement only irritated the Happi-chase inside her. She fought to keep from throwing up. What the… hangover… Ucchan no do-aho… A little memory penetrated the fungal mass that seemed to be stuffing her brain. Ranchan… and Akane… I was talking to somebody… I’m NAKED!?!! Shock overrode misery and her eyes snapped open.
It took a while for her sensitized nerves to adjust to the bright morning sunlight. She was on her futon, covered by a quilt, but without her customary yukata, which lay in a heap on the floor near the table… but its tie was over by the window. I don’t care how drunk I got last night, this is weird. The cheap little sake warmer was on the table, overturned, its ceramic container empty. There were cups on the table too, three of them. Okaasama’s wedding set… gods, what was I doing? And there, over by the wall…
((Impact/falling/not even good enough…))
Okaasama’s kaiken?
((In autumn the glory of moonlight…))
I tried to kill myself? Then why… how…
((I wish you were a guy, P-chan…))
She pushed the quilt off and got up, fighting down another wave of retaliation from her stomach. That’s right… I was walking home… tripped over P-chan… brought him with me…
((It’s all right, Ukyou-san))
???? There was a GUY here??
((Big hands, rough, calluses))
A quick check of herself told her she hadn’t done anything… hentai. At least not that hentai.
I can remember P-chan… but not a guy…
((sunwarmed stone))
It must have been a hallucination, she told herself. I got so drunk I was seeing things, hearing things. Maybe a hot shower would clear out the fuzz in her head. She put on the discarded yukata and headed for the bathroom.
The shower was running.
Masaka. She looked around the living room. No stray belongings… no shoes… no pants… the only things she saw were hers.
((big hands, warm, rough-textured but gentle))
How come the weird stuff always happens when you’re wrecked?
She jerked the bathroom door open. The room was empty. Nobody there… no strange shirts or pants… not even a towel out of place… just water flowing out of the shower stall and down the floor drain. Cold water. Not even a hot shower… and her head and stomach were conspiring to finish the job she’d tried to start last night. Bet I’m out of aspirin too. Oh, being alive was just wonderful.
“Okay, jackass,” she growled, and yanked back the shower curtain.
“Bwee!” P-chan glared at her from the floor of the shower stall.
“P-chan?!” Ohhhh my brain HURTS… She stared for a moment, then reached in and turned off the water. The hot tap was on full, but the water was icy. Don’t tell me the heater’s busted again. Maybe if I get Nabiki to bug the landlord… She picked the piglet up and wrapped him in a bathtowel. There was a shallow cut across his chest. “Hey, little guy, you didn’t have that last night.”
((impact/knock something away/falling))
“Did you stop me from killing myself last night, sugar?”
((Guess I help you out this time…))
“That’s silly, how would a piggie know to do that?” She dabbed antibiotic ointment on the cut, then set him down and splashed cold water on her face. “Ick, I feel awful. Maybe if I make some tea. You think that’ll work, P-chan?”
She got out the hot plate and small kettle she used when she didn’t want to go downstairs and fire up the big stove in the restaurant. The tea helped; her stomach calmed down and her headache dulled somewhat. “Mmm, that’s better. Hey, how about if after a bit I take you downstairs and feed you. Would you like that?”
P-chan nodded.
She poured herself a second cup. “You’re such a smart little fellow, it’s like you can understand everything I say. Almost like you were really…” She stopped and stared at P-chan as an idea struck her.
“Bwee?” The pig’s eyes were big and round. He looked… scared.
She shook her head. “No, you couldn’t be.” Where’d that come from? I must still be drunk, thinking of something like that! But the idea, once in her head, wouldn’t go away. How did he… oh gods, how did he turn on the shower? Either he really is a piggie and there was somebody else here, or…
She tossed the contents of her cup onto P-chan.
The little pig’s outlines blurred, shifted, grew… and then a naked young man flung himself away from her, curling up in a fetal position, crimson-skinned and trembling with shame.
She had sort of expected it, but the suddenness and totality of the transformation still startled her. Why should it bother me? I’ve seen Ranchan change… I’ve seen Shampoo and Mousse… this isn’t any worse. But it obviously bothered the guy. A lot. Pain, anger and embarrassment radiated from him in almost visible waves. “Hey, it’s okay, hon,” she said, laying her hand on his back. “I’ve seen cursed guys before, it’s no big deal.” Her hand tingled as though she’d stuck it in a strong electrical field, like in the physics lab at school. Ki?? Then she saw the yellow-and-black bandanna half buried in his hair.
Ryouga. P-chan is RYOUGA HIBIKI??? Oh SHIT…
The remains of her hangover disappeared under an avalanche of sheer panic. Ryouga was depressed. And Ryouga’s depression could… She had to stop his ki-focusing. So how do I do that?
I can’t pound him. My big spatula’s downstairs, no time to get it… and I am NOT going hand-to-hand against this guy. Not on my best day, which this isn’t. So what… wait a minute. Ryouga’s aura was visible now, a sickly yellow-green. In another moment it would gather in his hands and then… Hmm… Ryouga’s real shy around girls, ne? So why don’t I…
She slid her arms around him, laid her cheek against his bare shoulder, pressed her body against his back. “Ryochan,” she said, and was surprised at how easily the endearment came to her. His skin was unexpectedly soft, warm silk covering stonehard muscles, and had a sharp, musky, not unpleasant scent that reminded her of earth and fallen leaves. Something inside her vibrated like a plucked string and she caught her breath at the intensity of the feeling. It was so scary… somehow more real than anything she had ever felt with Ranchan. “It’s okay, sugar. Some of the nicest guys I know have Jusenkyou curses.” Her eyes burned, she heard her voice trembling. Don’t think about Ranchan! She hugged him tighter. Please let this work. “If you hadn’t been here last night I might have… done something really, really stupid. I’m glad you’re here, Ryouga…” She was babbling, she knew she was babbling but she couldn’t seem to stop…
“U… Ukyou-san?” He turned around in her arms. The movement pulled her off balance and she toppled over, pushing him down onto the futon, and she felt his arms go around her as they fell. She didn’t want to move, he was so warm, so comforting… his scent set off the plucked-string feeling again, deep within her…
“Are you all right?” She couldn’t feel the electric tingle of his ki any more, so maybe her ploy had worked…
“Huh?” She blinked. Gods, what am I doing? But he felt so good… “Yeah, I’m okay.” She still didn’t move. “So what’s your story? You get lost in China or something?”
So he told her about how Ranma had insulted him by beating him to the best lunches day after day, how his rival had run out on their duel, how he had trailed the fugitive the length and breadth of China until the day a redhaired girl knocked him into a cursed spring, not even noticing him in her headlong pursuit of a panda… He didn’t expect Ukyou’s reaction, though. She burst out laughing.
“What’s your problem?” he growled.
“I’ve heard of some stupid reasons to get into fights, but… you followed him to China on account of lunch?”
“It wasn’t just about lunch!” he yelled.
“Okay, okay! Sorry, sugar. Listen, I’ve got no business callin’ anybody stupid. I’ve twisted up my life so bad… if I’d known about those springs I probably would have ended up in one too…”
“At least you don’t turn into something so hideous…”
She forced the pretense of a cute smile. “You’re not hideous. You’re kinda cute. Of course, I do like you better this way…” she trailed her fingers along his collarbone, then stopped, shaking her head. She couldn’t go on using, manipulating him… he deserved it to be real. A tear rolled down her face and splashed onto his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
“Ukyou-san.” He was holding her, stroking her hair, brushing her tears away with gentle fingers. His head dipped closer to hers… their lips touched…
“Wow. Where’d that come from?” she whispered, a very long time later.
“I’m not sure.” He turned crimson and started pulling away. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She pulled him back down to her again and kissed him even more thoroughly. Slowly the tension melted from his body; his big hands held her closer, moving a little over her back, warm through her yukata’s thin cotton. His tongue probed tentatively between her parted lips and she drew him into her.
He broke the kiss at last, pulling away and staring down at her, amazement warring with desire. “Ukyou-san… what are we doing?”
“You need this as much as I do, sugar?” she gasped, running her fingers over as much of his chest as she could reach. A thin red seam crossed his body, not a deep wound, but a reminder of the cut she had found on P-chan.
He stared for a moment, then a smile touched his mouth and his dark eyes. “Yeah. I guess I do.” He reached down to untie her obi and brushed her yukata aside, revealing her breasts. She froze, watching him — would he get one of his violent nosebleeds and faint on top of her? Instead, he began stroking her, slowly and gently. He’s so gentle… he can shatter a huge boulder with a touch but his fingers are like feathers… waves of sensation overwhelmed her as his callused fingers rasped across her nipples. She closed her eyes and arched upward in a mute demand for more, nothing mattered but the fire building inside her… she had touched herself, of course, imagining that it was actually Ranchan touching her, but it was nothing like this. The hot, satin wetness of his mouth engulfed one aching point, in contrast to the roughness of his touch, and freed his hand to explore lower: her abdomen, her inner thighs… she slid her legs apart to give him better access to her most sensitive places. This is so good… I should give him… she didn’t really know where to touch a guy to make him feel the things she was feeling, but she blindly ran her fingers over all of him she could reach, over his chest, down his sides, across his hard, flat abdomen…
Her hand brushed against something hard and hot, and she snatched it away, startled into focus. Is that… Tentatively she retraced her path and there it was again. Masaka… it’s so big… for all that she’d spent ten years living as a guy and gone to a boys’ school, she’d never really looked at guys’ bodies. She’d certainly never seen any guy in this condition, let alone one as… endowed… as Ryouga. Fascinated and scared at once, she ran her fingers lightly up his length. A stifled groan escaped him. His skin was unexpectedly soft, velvety, thin and delicate; it moved loosely over the powerful hardness beneath.
“Aaaah!” Her hand tightened reflexively on his shaft as his fingers found her sensitive core. “Ryoooo…” She writhed, needing, needing…
“Oh gods, Ukyou…” he moaned, pulling away from her and fumbling into position. His ete nudged at her opening. “You sure about this?” he asked.
She nodded, and braced herself, and felt him pushing into her, and then… “Aaaiiieee! Iteyo!” Black fire exploded behind her eyes as she tore apart inside, worse than the phoenix chick or any hit she’d ever taken in a fight…
“I’m so sorry, Ukyou-san.”
She blinked, focused on Ryouga’s eyes, dark with concern. He wasn’t in her any more, he was holding her and crying.
“I hurt you… took your innocence…”
Bitter laughter tore at her like barbed wire. “You didn’t take nothin’ I didn’t throw at you, sugar. Ain’t your fault I’m such a lousy excuse for a woman I can’t even…” She rolled over and buried her face in her arms.
There was a long silence. Then “I don’t think you’re a lousy excuse for a woman, Ukyou-san.” Something warm between her shoulder blades — a kiss? — and she was enveloped in his arms again, his body smooth and hard against her back, his arms around her, crossed under her breasts, holding her close. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” His breath tickled her ear; she could feel his hardness pressed into her backside.
“I did,” she choked around the aching constriction in her throat. Tears spilled out of her eyes. “I wanted… still want… I always mess things up for myself! Can’t even screw right,” she mumbled into the futon. “And it felt so good!”
He blinked. “It did?”
“Yeah. Right up to… I’m so sorry. There must be something the matter with me. Maybe ’cause I spent all that time living as a guy…”
There was another long silence. “Isn’t… I heard this somewhere… isn’t the first time a girl does it… isn’t it supposed to hurt?”
“Yeah, I heard that too. It’s supposed to hurt a little. If that was a little, I’d really hate to have to go through a lot. It felt like… like I was getting ripped inside. I never hurt there, I don’t even get cramps like some girls do. Course,” she added with a harsh little giggle, “there is a lot more to you than I expected.”
“Huh?”
The harsh giggle turned into a bitter laugh, still too close to tears. “That was supposed to be a compliment. Guess I messed that up too, huh.” She turned around, wrapped her arms around his body and nuzzled into his earth-musk scent. “You think that’s all it was? My first time?”
“Want to find out?”
She stared up at him, at the warm, speculative smile in his dark eyes. “Ryouga…”
He kissed the tip of her nose, the merest brush of his lips on her skin. “I thought it was pretty good too,” he murmured. “Want to try finding our way back there?”
Tears blinded her, relief and gratitude and hope and apprehension blending into one overwhelming wave. She nodded and hugged him tighter, absorbing his scent and his warmth and the satin smoothness of his skin. His big hands kneaded her shoulders, loosening tensions that had been a part of her so long she never noticed them.
“Turn back over,” he murmured in her ear.
“Hmm?”
“Go on, turn over.”
Obediently she rolled onto her stomach. The rough warmth moved down her back, caressed her waist. “Hey, that tickles,” she giggled.
His hands moved lower, over her buttocks, her thighs. “Aaahh.” Her hips began to rock in time to the blood that pounded in her ears.
The hot point of a kiss between her shoulder blades, and then heavy warmth over her whole body, pinning her to the futon under his weight. His hands slid around to cup her breasts, his thumbs rubbed over her nipples. A sweet, delicious ache began to build in her, centered at the apex of her thighs, and she moved a little against him. He was heavy and hot on top of her; she could hear how hard his breathing was getting. It excited her even more, to think that he was losing control, that she was making him lose it. His shaft nudged at her; she wriggled, wanting more of it.
Instead, he rolled off her. “This way,” he murmured, and in spite of the awkward angle he lifted her easily and positioned her astride him.
“Like this?” She took hold of his member and slowly, cautiously lowered herself onto him. He was searing hot going into her; she could feel herself stretching to accommodate him, feel him filling her emptiness, so very hard inside her… there was no pain this time, only that wonderful sensation of no-longer-empty… Ohhhh…
“You okay?” His eyes were half closed with pleasure, his fangs showing in a goofily blissful smile.
“Yeah.” She bent down and captured his mouth with hers, exploring its recesses with her tongue, caressing his fangs. Rocking forward like that made her slide up his shaft until he was almost out of her; she pushed back down, again the sensation of being filled, until he hit something deep inside her that almost hurt but it was so good, so very good and she needed more of it… she slid up again and slammed herself down fast and hard. Yessss! Heat spread through her; she broke the kiss and threw her head back, bringing her breasts within reach of his seeking mouth. The hard points of his fangs pressed gently into her nipple; his tongue caressed the sensitive tip. Electricity rippled over her skin; she bounced on him harder. A pressure was building in her, a need… she straightened, arched her back, intensifying the sensations.
“U… kyou…” She couldn’t see him now; sight was a distraction to the unendurable tension building in her, and her eyes had closed, but she could hear the rasp of his breathing and feel his hands tighten on her, feel his body beneath her as tense as her own.
“RyougaaaAAA!” Faster and harder, needing, needing, it was too much, she couldn’t take it any more she was going to scream she was flying apart she was —
She collapsed on top of Ryouga, clinging to his solidness as she shattered into shards of light, as he erupted into her and filled her with liquid fire, and they fell together into a place that wasn’t dark and lonely at all.
“Mmmmm…”
Ryouga’s spent manhood slipped out of her. She straightened her long legs and tangled them with his, her foot lazily stroking his ankle, and turned her head to give him a kiss. He rolled over so he was half on top of her and returned the kiss, not in passion, but both of them savoring the comfort of each other’s presence. After a while he propped himself on one elbow and looked down at her.
“Ano… what happens now?”
“Hmmm?”
He shrugged. “Do I find some cold water and just leave? I… I’ve never done anything like this before, so I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
“Sugar, I’m as lost as you are! I’ve never done anything like this either.”
“Well, one of the things my dad told me once is when you’re in an interesting place, explore.”
“You think this is… an interesting place?” The idea made her feel warm inside, but it was scary too. A chorus of old rejections rose up in her memory and almost overwhelmed the warmth.
“Don’t you?”
She fled from the chorus, into the safety of his scent. “It’s scary,” she admitted.
“Yeah,” he agreed. He stroked the hair away from her face. “Relationships don’t work very well when you get lost all the time. You might need me sometime, and I wouldn’t be here.”
“Nothin’ new, sugar,” she said. Her fingers drifted along his collarbone. “Nobody’s ever there when I need ’em. Besides, you were here last night.” Her eyes stung. “I’m a fine one to talk, I’ve spent most of my life pushing people away so I wouldn’t get hurt. I don’t think I even know how to have a… relationship. I’ll probably mess it up.” Even as she said it, she burrowed closer to him. “But this is so nice… just like this…”
“Mmm,” he agreed. “We could try that.”
“Huh?”
“Just like this. Not a real couple or anything, just… exploring.”
“It sounds kind of crazy, but… with crazy lives like ours, maybe it’s the only thing that makes sense. Okay. Long as we’re not… in love with each other or anything like that. I don’t think I could handle being in love.” Her voice caught again.
“How about… we like being together?”
The almost-tears turned to a surprised laugh. “Oh Ryochan… you keep doing that to me!” She hugged him, tight as she could. “I guess I can live with that.”
They held each other in silence, drifting together. It was so sweet, just being together, just being not-alone for almost the first time in her life… and then the mood was shattered by a very unromantic noise. It came from Ryouga’s stomach.
He blushed crimson. “Gomen,” he muttered. His stomach growled again, even louder.
With a stifled laugh she got up, snared her discarded yukata and tossed it at him. “Here, you can wear this for now.” She began to dress, putting on panties and tight black pants, and one of her trademark blue tops. She left it hanging open while she tied up her hair. He made no move to put on the robe, only stared entranced at the interesting things her breasts were doing under the blue cloth.
She pulled her pants on and tied her top. “Hey, jackass, you can’t go downstairs like that. You sure you don’t know where your stuff went?”
“I don’t know. I got splashed… somewhere near the dojo, I think. I didn’t really notice.”
“Oh well, we can deal with that in the morning. Right now let’s get you fed. We gotta keep your strength up!” she added with a flirtatious grin.
She slipped her arm around him and led him downstairs.
NOTES, EXPLANATIONS ETC.
Akari who? I didn’t know about her when I started this, and somehow it just kept going that way. Oh well, call it an alterniverse…
A kaiken is the little ceremonial dagger that’s part of the traditional Japanese bridal attire. It’s something that might well be handed down in a family, as might the ceremonial sake cups. The traditional way for a woman to commit seppuku is to bind her ankles together (so her body will not be found in an unladylike posture) and stab herself in the throat.
Ukyou’s “death-poem” is from a little volume of seventeenth-century yaoi tales called Comrade Loves of the Samurai. It’s the death-poem of a young man named Ukyou (it’s supposed to be a masculine name, though my name-reference book gives it as a place name), and I thought she might like it.
Ete means “strong point,” and of all the synonyms for the male member in my dictionaries, it’s the one that fits Ryouga best. (I had a certain amount of fun deciding which words I was going to use for which characters…)
Banks on both sides of the Pacific used to give premiums to new depositors; years ago small electrical appliances were common giveaways at American banks. I needed a way to get Ryouga human.