Debt, love… Fight!

I love him.

My head is going to explode. My heart too.

I kissed him, that’s exactly what I did. I kissed him, and he kissed me back.

And oh dear god, that was a real kiss.

Remembering his massive arms holding me close makes me moan and whimper with an overwhelming, unfamiliar need. Replaying his words in my head makes me burn with fury.

I’m a wreck, my clothes soaked and disheveled, my hair is a mess as if I’d just done exactly what I’d just done. However, there is one true thought running through my head, one hope that goes against all logic, and above all, against his wishes. He won’t convince me otherwise, not with his words or his touch. 

I am going to fight Shampoo. 

I walk long enough to forget both my anger and my desire, determined. By the time I get to the port, the sun shines brightly in the sky and my clothes are almost dry.

I could never forgive myself if I don’t try. I won’t live with that burden, with the uncertainty of what could have been but wasn’t because of my cowardice.

I swallow hard as I make my way to the entrance of the pit. I knock on the usually open door, again and again, until what looks like an exhausted cleaning woman rudely opens it with a cigarette in her mouth.

I go in without asking. There must be someone I can talk to. I head towards that place up high, the room Tarô occupies, although I have no idea what the hell he could be doing there on a Sunday morning. I find a guy organizing papers at a large desk at the far end. He raises an eyebrow and looks at me with interest.

“Did you want something?”

“I want to fight Shampoo,” I declare. He smiles and takes out his phone.

“Wait here,” he says, pointing to one of the comfortable sofas and heading out the door.

I’m left alone in his grand office. I don’t plan on sitting down because I haven’t slept all night and I’m sure I’ll pass out, and I’ve done enough stupid things for tonight.

Maybe I’m about to make the worst thing of them all.

I wait, pacing, fixing my hair in front of the mirrors, admiring the collection of rare objects hanging on the walls: hannya masks, naginaga spears, katanas, sais, and kunai.

There’s a large suit of armor in the middle of the room, mounted on a small pedestal for all to admire. It’s red and impeccably crafted, the detailing of it giving the impression it’s made of scales, and its helmet appears enormous, with a demon mask painted in the same shade of red, menacing.

I think more than an hour passes, and while I anxiously wait, I have plenty of time to relive Ranma’s kisses over and over, his hard body against mine, his hands hungrily roaming over me. I hide from my own actions, from the shame of my audacity. I can’t believe what I did, the shamelessness and my boldness. 

I provoked him, I asked for fire, and he set me ablaze.

I didn’t know it would feel so good, Ranma’s torso, his delicious lips, his arms binding me tightly like ropes. So hypnotic and alluring, so undeniably devastating. I bite my lower lip. I can’t deny that I want so much more.

Just then, Tarô makes his appearance. Truthfully, I didn’t even expect to find him at this hour. He’s wearing a very fancy, clearly tailored suit, and as he enters his office, he casually unbuttons his very expensive jacket. He observes me curiously and takes a seat behind the imposing desk.

“Akane Tendô, what brings you here?” he asks, raising an eyebrow and rummaging through one of the desk drawers. Then he takes out a notebook and begins to methodically flip through the pages.

“I want to fight Shampoo,” I repeat for the umpteenth time. Tarô stops what he’s doing and sighs, leaning back in his chair.

“I see,” he says dispassionately, annoyed. He pulls a calculator from the drawer, an old and anachronistic one with large orange buttons and a green screen whose numbers begin to climb as he types feverishly. “In three months, maybe. I still need you to show off for a bit,” he remarks pensively, and that makes my blood boil.

I step forward and slam both hands on the table, staring at him, a dull rage throbbing in my temples and neck.

“Next. Week.” I state, refusing to budge a millimeter. He raises an eyebrow.

“Do you need money urgently? Is that it?” he guesses effortlessly, and I tremble slightly, unwilling to lose even a shred of the confidence that fills me, the confidence I possess, in my kamikaze plan.

“I can take her” I say again, and he smirks.

“Give me a number, maybe we can arrange some sort of loan,” he says casually, gently even, handing me a sheet of paper and a fountain pen. I take it and look at it reverently; it’s gold and obviously very expensive. I’ve never written with anything like it. I touch the nib to the white paper and the ink pools at the tip, forming a small black puddle before I write that enormous number, the one that haunts and torments me.

I hand it back to him; he looks at it in surprise, then at me.

“I can get you this amount, but you’re going to have to do something much more…interesting… than fighting, and for much longer.”

I swallow and shake my head.

“No? Are you sure? You could choose your own clients, at least at first… And they’d pay very well, even more if you were a virgin.”

I take a step back. It’s just as Ranma warned me, a spiral of greed and corruption. I don’t know what I expected coming to this place alone, but it’s clear they’re not offering me what I’m asking for.

“I just want to fight this Friday.”

He studies me, and I catch sight of a victorious smile on his face. He knows I’m desperate; I just screamed it right to his face. He’s like a spider waiting in its web, knowing the insects will eventually fall into the trap, that it’s only a matter of time. I slowly back away from the table, putting some space between us, and find myself glancing over my shoulder to spot the door I came in through, just in case.

“I’ll talk to Shampoo, and if she agrees, you’ll get your fight. But it’s a shame; I was hoping we could have fun for a little while longer.”

He also assumes I’m going to lose, but I’m not stupid enough to prove my point in a verbal match. Just agreeing to the fight is more than enough for me.

I start backing away, very aware of the threat he represents, the damn danger I’ve just exposed myself to. He gives me a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and lets me go. I can’t help but sigh with relief when I reach the door and close it behind me. Then I hurry down the hallway, eager to get outside.

.

..

…

This shift at the restaurant is absolute hell.

Shinnosuke has quit, and there’s a sign on the door that says: “New employee wanted” which no one has applied for yet. It’s not like the customers actually care to see me racing like a madwoman between the tables or that there’s no one there to wash the dishes.

Mrs. O doesn’t seem happy either. She’s given me several pitying looks and promised me extra pay for the trouble. At any other time, that would be music to my ears, but I’m starting to realize that an extra ten thousand yen in my pocket isn’t going to be very useful.

I slip between the tables and serve the customers as best I can, and around noon, I see a familiar face come through the door.

The policeman smiles at me. He’s wearing a crisp blue uniform and takes off his cap, tucking it under his arm and bowing to me in a sign of respect. Then he takes a seat at the counter, near the stool Ranma usually sits on.

“What can I get you?” I ask, trying to hide my exhaustion and the sweat trickling down my temple.

“What I had last time was delicious,” he says with a smile, and is about to continue when I turn around to take the order to the kitchen. Under any other circumstances, I’d love to stop and chat for a few moments, but I’m having the shittiest shift today.

I take the order and start washing dishes. The door opens again, and in the frame, I see broad shoulders and an imposing figure. My heart leaps into my throat as Ranma scans the small restaurant, his gaze settling on me, stern, but yearning.

My legs tremble, and my chest aches. I swallow hard as I lower my eyes back to the dirty dishes. I don’t need any more damn distractions, and above all, I can’t be normal around him right now.

However, he doesn’t seem to be suffering the same way I am. He puts his bag on the counter and looks at me questioningly.

“Do you need help?” he asks, and I’m about to yell at him no, and to stay away, to go back where he came from, and to stop being so fucking nice and perfect and nice.

“I’m fine.”

He clicks his tongue as his gaze wanders again over the restless customers, over to the orders piling up on the kitchen counter. He takes off his jacket, and my jaw almost drops when his arms are revealed in that loose-fitting tank top. He heads to the changing room and emerges shortly after, wearing an apron and steady determination.

“I’ll take care of this. You take care of the dining room.”

“Do you work here, Saotome?” asks the policeman, who was clearly paying very close attention to our conversation.

“Eat and shut the hell up, Hibiki,” he snaps back, taking hold of my hips and gently pushing me away from the pile of dirty dishes.

I could resist, I could protest, and yet I don’t. I close my mouth and press my lips so hard they form a whitish line.

I’m not going to argue with him again, not in front of everyone, so I accept his help and continue delivering dishes to the tables.

After about an hour, I can feel the work dynamic shift; everything starts to flow smoothly. The policeman has been questioning Ranma all throughout, until he said goodbye to me, serious and effusive, before leaving to get back to work.

The room is finally emptying, and Mrs. O almost kisses the boy with the braid when she finds out he’s helping out. I think she’ll pay him a little more today than she did last time.

I find myself cleaning up while he does the same, both of us surrounded in a tense silence I don’t dare break.

“I hope Mrs. O doesn’t take too long to find another server,” he remarks casually as he lifts some chairs onto the tables with insulting ease.

I nod distractedly as I wipe down the bar.

“I think she already has a candidate. I’m meeting her tomorrow,” I reply quietly.

“I’m glad. It’s too much work for you alone,” he continues.

Our unfinished conversation hangs in the air, waiting for one of us to find the courage to speak up. I glance at him discreetly and find him finishing the dishwashing, deep in thought. He turns, catching me in the act, his cheeks flush while he clears his throat. 

“Akane, I… I didn’t mean to make you mad,” he says, stopping what he’s doing and coming toward me, looking at me from the other side of the bar.

I nod, I understand his point, but I need him to understand mine.

“It hurts me that you think I can’t win,” I say, looking down at my feet, feeling my hands tremble and my eyes sting.

«You can, but not yet. You need to train more and gain experience in real fights. I’m just asking you to wait. I’ll tell you when you’re ready. ” His blue eyes are full of sincerity and desperation. My heart tightens in my chest, and I clasp my hands, feeling that it’s useless to deceive him or try to hide what’s inevitably going to happen.

I look up and look at him, contrite.

“I’ve asked Tarô to arrange the fight. If Shampoo agrees, we’ll face each other in four days.”

“You did WHAT?!”

His face turns white, and his jaw drops slightly as I raise my chin and press my lips together tightly, trying not to tremble at his shocked reaction. Ranma looks at me as if it’s the first time he’s ever seen me, his eyebrows furrowing in a gesture of utter confusion.

“You… You went into that fucking place and talked to that sociopath?”

“I did.”

He takes a breath and exhales very slowly, as if trying to calm himself. When his lungs are empty and his eyes pierce me with silent rage, all I want to do is shrink back and disappear.

“Don’t do it,” he says, though, his whole body trembling as his hands grip the bar and he leans over me. “Don’t do it.”

“It’s already done.”

“You’re not going to listen to anything I say, are you? You just want me to stand here, watch you destroy yourself.” His voice cracks, and it shatters me into pieces. I step out from behind the bar and look at him, my resolve wavering.

“You have to understand.”

“A house isn’t worth your life, a fantasy doesn’t compare to everything you are,” he huffs. “If you think I’m going to support you in this reckless endeavor, you’re wrong.”

He angrily rips off his apron and swerves past me in the narrow hallway. I hear the locker room door close behind me, and I know he’s grabbing his things. Barely a minute later, he comes out dressed, bag slung over his shoulder.

“Ranma…” I try again, but he looks at me, and yet he doesn’t. He’s angry with me, and that hurts more than a hundred punches from Ryu.

“Do whatever the hell you want, but don’t expect me to support you. I’m not going to watch you get destroyed, Akane, and I’m not going to train you anymore.”

The words hit me hard. I lower my gaze, accepting them despite everything. I can’t stop the tears from sliding down my cheeks as I hear the door close behind him. Is this goodbye? Is this how it ends, before we’ve even begun? Everything is blurry. I force myself to drag my feet toward the exit, lock the door, and walk all the way to the bathhouse, all on autopilot.

I soak in the bath, all by myself, wishing all my problems would end and dissolve, wishing that Ranma would smile at me again like he did after our last fight.

When I’m right on the verge of drowning I come back to the surface, and allow myself to cry there, in the quiet solitude, surrounded by warm water. I slap my cheeks and try to reassure myself. I’ve never needed anyone, so losing my only support, my only friend, shouldn’t hurt so much. I can handle this and much more; I can handle anything.

I repeat it to myself like a mantra, but I know it’s not true. That idiot has become a pillar in my life, a beacon to look up to, a hand to lean on. I feel like I can’t breathe, like I won’t survive without him.

Instead of going home, I do something crazy, something I haven’t done in far too long. I return to the Tendô dojô and, ignoring Kuno’s warnings, sneak onto the grounds, run through the garden, and climb to the window of my old room. It’s old and opens easily; the aluminum locks haven’t worked for a long time from lack of maintenance.

I slip into the dusty space that was my home throughout my childhood. There’s no furniture, no beds, barely any remnants of those of us who lived here. Dad sold everything before we were evicted. I walk on the old floorboards that creak beneath my feet, and the empty house doesn’t evoke any happy memories; suddenly, the space feels inert, strange.

The days of laughter ended when I was still too young to understand that I was happy. My mother’s death consumed everything. Now I don’t hear her voice echoing within these walls; now I only hear Kasumi crying, begging our father to stop gambling or drinking.

Talking to those men who took things from our house while I radiated with hatred and Nabiki suffered a panic attack. Little girls, we were just little girls.

We shouldn’t have gone through all that, I know it, all three of us know it, but I’m still anchored to this stubborn desire, to a sliver of hope.

I visit my parents’ room, not knowing what I’m looking for, and I find an empty space where my breath echoes. It’s filled with settled dust, and there’s dampness on the ceiling.

Shame consumes me; I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here. If I could choose, if I could be honest with myself, I would choose to be in Ranma’s arms, while he cradles me with his enormous body, with his suffocating heat. The strangeness around me makes my steps falter, makes me feel like I’m about to collapse. I go back to my room and jump out the window, but not before taking one last look at my former home, feeling that I can no longer call it that anymore.

.

..

…

After my morning run, my steps inevitably lead me to the training gym. I don’t know what I’ll say, I don’t even know if he’ll want to look at me.

His indifference hurts too much, but he has to understand. I have no other choice, I must defeat Shampoo, with or without his help.

I push the door and find it opens, which makes me sigh with relief because at least he’s not so mad he won’t come. I take a breath and walk through the door, where I find Ryu, arms crossed, standing in the middle of the mats, waiting for me.

“You fucked up,” he says, his brow furrowed and angrier than I’ve ever seen him. I close the door behind me and walk towards him, feeling anxiety grip the pit of my stomach as I realize that Ranma is nowhere to be seen.

I look up, knowing I’m going to get a good scolding, but I’m not going to run away. I’ve made a decision and I’m prepared to face the consequences.

“You’re going to have to explain to me what the hell you said to him to make him so unhinged. He was up all night! I had to put sleeping pills in his water to knock him out, and I’m not sure that worked. Speak fast, because apparently I now have a baby weighing 80 kilos of pure muscle, who, when he wakes up from his ‘nap’, is going to be itching to smash some skulls.”

I swallow hard. Knowing that makes my face burn, my pulse race, and I feel like ripping my heart out. Now that I look at him closely, Ryu has deep dark circles under his eyes, and he looks extremely tired.

“I’m going to fight Shampoo,” I say for the zillionth time. Ryu remains silent and then sighs in disbelief.

“I didn’t want to believe it, but apparently, you’re batshit crazy.”

I frown at him, and he walks forward with his hands in his pockets, his expression deathly serious.

“You know you could die, right? There are people who never walk out of the pit,” he whispers close to my ear, making my blood run cold. I raise my gaze, filled with a primal, visceral fear. Ryu’s eyes are dark and nothing like Ranma’s blue ones; they’re as deep as an abyss, his irises blending seamlessly into his pupils. “And if that happens, if something happens to you… My brother will lose his mind.”

I never imagined our conversation could turn so sharp. Ryu’s words pierce me like a damned dagger.

“I need the money.” Now my reason sounds too lame, almost pathetic. He huffs sulkily.

“We all need money, but you need to know how to measure your rivals, you big-headed fool! This isn’t just about you anymore. There are people who truly care about you, and you should take responsibility for that.”

My eyes well up with tears. It’s not fair. They’ve been fighting for years without rules, without mercy. Risking their lives for glory and dirty money, and apparently I can’t aspire to the same. I’m not wrong in believing in myself, and if I lose… And if I die, at least I’ll have given it my all.

“Train me today, I’m going to fight whether you like it or not,” I say, my eyes shining and my teeth clenched. Ryu looks at me, and I feel the inevitability of his anger looming over me, the same anger I saw in Ranma, but with a different intensity.

“I’ll try not to kill you or leave you paralyzed, is that enough for you?” he growls, and I swallow hard, unwilling to admit that no, it’s not enough. I aspire to so much more. My determination knows no bounds, and neither does the desperation I feel. I’m willing to risk everything, even my life.

“Let’s go,” I say firmly, getting into a fighting stance, and then my second sensei gives me the worst beating of my life.

.

..

…

I won’t be able to fight in this state, I know that too well. 

The first time I fought in the pit I had to bandage and bind my ribs. I’ve come out even worse after my fight with Ryu. He hasn’t stopped cornering me, relentlessly throwing punches while pointing out my weak points. I’ve tried to dodge and block, I’ve fought back, but his experience and strength far surpasses mine. If he wanted to, he could have finished me off, inflicted an injury serious enough to make me give up, getting away with what he wanted. 

However, Ryu has spared my joints, but not my poor muscles. I think I have bruises even on my toes. I’m spitting blood into the gym sink, which is strangely clean since the last time I used it.

My jaw hurts, and there’s a bruise spreading across my temple. I feel dizzy and can barely lift my arms. I don’t know if this has actually been helpful, but I’ve certainly learned to dodge hard blows, even if it’s by taking just as many.

I collapse onto the bathroom floor with a groan and try to breathe normally. I feel a presence above me; Ryu is watching me, arms crossed, serious and gruff.

“She’s faster than me, but she doesn’t hit as hard,” he says in a disaffected, objective tone.

“Okay, thanks,” I say, getting up, more out of pure pride than because I can.

“You should do some weight training, strengthen your shoulders and elbows, don’t let her do that to you.”

I nod, clutching my side. It’s not like I have much time, but my years of unloading boxes at the market are working in my favor. That should be enough.

Ryu frowns again, and I feel like he wants to tell me something else, something important, but he bites his tongue and says goodbye with a nod. He’s still angry, but I’m grateful that he agreed to train me despite everything.

I take a quick cold shower and then leave the gym, trying not to limp. By the time I get to the restaurant, I’m about to pass out.

I walk through the door and find myself face to face with a stranger. A girl with a cheerful smile and green-dyed hair takes a step toward me.

“You must be Akane,” she says, her eyes bright and hopeful. She also has pink streaks in her hair and a half-updo that, for a moment, makes me long for my long hair. I nod, and then her eyes fall on the recent bruises on my face, my hunched posture, the sweat beading on my forehead. “Oh, are you alright?” she asks, leaning toward me. I can’t even try to downplay my condition because I think I’m going to faint right here in the restaurant hallway, between the tables and the bar.

“Not really,” I gasp, feeling for a chair and sitting down with a pained sigh. She studies me thoughtfully and then seems to make a decision. She dashes off to the locker room, and only then do I begin to understand that this girl must be my new coworker. She returns with a glass of water and some pills.

I look at her as if she were an angel who has just descended from heaven.

“Take it, it’s a strong painkiller. I guarantee you’ll be as good as new in a little while,” she says, winking at me, and of course I’m not in a position to refuse her kindness. I do as she says, she observes me and smiles back. “By the way, I’m Akari Unryu. I’ll be working here from now on.”

“Nice to meet you, Akari. Excuse me, I haven’t been having a good day… week…” I gasp, standing up and heading towards the locker room. She follows me with a worried expression.

“The owner already told me you do martial arts, admirable but dangerous,” she goes on as I take off my fine jacket and put on my apron. “In any case, don’t worry, I’ve worked in other restaurants before, I think I can handle the first shift. You should rest.”

“What?”

“Take a nap, and when you’re feeling better, come help me,” she says, winking at me. I’m this close to hugging her and bursting into tears.

“B-but it’s your first day, I can’t let you do it.”

“We work together now, it’s fine. I got you this time, you can get me on the next one.”

Her warm, innocent gaze disarms me. I nod sheepishly and accept the deal. I put my jacket back on and curl up on one of the small sofas that’s only used for leaving clothes or for quick meals during my rare breaks. I sigh with relief and collapse, falling asleep in less than two minutes.

.

..

…

“Akane,” someone nudges my shoulder, the one Ryu kicked sideways, sending me tumbling like a ball on the mat. I wince as I open my eyes and meet Akari’s clear gaze. She sighs in relief when I rub them open.

“What time is it?” I ask with a deep sigh. She pulls her phone from her back pocket.

“Three o’clock. You slept four hours.”

“What?!” I jump up, my knees buckle, and I fall flat on my face, cushioning my fall with my arms and a groan. This girl must be thinking the worst of me. I stay for a humiliating moment at the foot of the couch, and she bursts into genuine, unadulterated laugh.

“You look awful,” she states the obvious, offering me a hand that I gladly accept. I stand up and brush the dust from the floor, feeling more rested, though I’m sure the bruises have only gotten worse.

“Please forgive me, it’s not usually like this,” I say, embarrassed, but she shakes her head and points toward the table in the break area.

“Mrs. O made onigiri; she saved you some. Eat and go outside when you’re done. Someone’s asking for you.”

My heart leaps and my cheeks burn. I wring my hands, filled with an internal plea, a silent hope.

“A guy?” I ask, unable to stop myself, my nerves tying themselves like ropes around my stomach.

Akari smiles suspiciously.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend? No, he… I can’t say he’s my boyfriend,” I finish quietly, feeling shy, but my new coworker is a clever one; she can read between the lines.

“You have to tell me all about it later, but no, it’s not a guy, it’s a woman. A friend, maybe?”

I look at her, confused, and take a step toward the door. I open it just a crack and peek into the room.

“I don’t have friends, only mortal enemies,» I whisper as my eyes land on the last person I expected to see in the restaurant. I hold my breath as I watch Shampoo sitting at one of the tables, sniffing rudely at a bowl of ramen.

I’m afraid my shitty day has only truly just begun. I swallow hard and open the door, walk over to the table, and sit down across from Shampoo, who is analytically slurping her noodles.

She doesn’t pay any attention to me until she takes a big gulp of soup and puts the bowl down on the table.

“Mine better,” she says to no one in particular, but continues eating, contradicting her own words.

“Are you here for me?” I ask impatiently. The Chinese fighter gives me a piercing look with her heavily made-up eyes.

“You look ew,” she adds after looking me in the face for half a second. “Did last match go bad?”

“No, it was great. I won almost effortlessly. I thought you’d be paying more attention to my progress.”

“Shampoo have more important things to do than watch two losers fight,” she says, waving a hand dismissively. Her Japanese is pretty mediocre, but I’m not one to judge since I don’t speak a word of Chinese. A couple of customers walk past the table and stare at her in astonishment. She smiles venomously at them. “I heard you want to fight.”

I stiffen in my chair, as if I were in a damn job interview.

“That’s right,” I nod. “This Friday.”

Shampoo absentmindedly stirs her bowl of ramen with chopsticks.

“You want to die?” she asks, her tone icy, yet tinged with amusement. I clench my fists on my thighs, crumpling the fabric of my pants.

“What I want to teach you is how to shut that big mouth of yours.”

She raises an eyebrow, lets her chopsticks float in the soup, and crosses her arms. Now we’re really talking.

“You very confident. Want to bet?”

“Bet? You and me?”

She leans in and stares at me, unblinking.

“If Shampoo win, you never speak to Ranma again.”

The proposition catches me off guard. I gasp in disbelief.

“This has nothing to do with him, leave him out of it,” I reply, placing both hands on the table and tapping the wood lightly. She places her hands on the surface as well and leans in further.

“Want Ranma all to yourself?”

“I want to fight you. But you’re fooling yourself if you think I’ll promise something stupid like that.”

“Afraid of losing?” she asks, softening her voice, filling it with venom. I know she’s trying to trick me, but I’m not stupid enough to fall for such an obvious game.

“Ranma is not a thing to be gambled on. Ranma is a person, you fucking psychopath.”

Shampoo leans back in her chair and rocks back, her arms crossed, tightly knotted beneath her breasts. She ignores my insult and smiles cynically.

“If fighting, Shampoo kill and get Ranma anyway.”

“Fine, let’s see if you can,” I accept her bravado, not backing down or giving a centimeter. She must not be used to being challenged, because I see the smile fall across her perfect lips until her mouth becomes a wrinkled spot like a cat’s ass.

“Fight in two weeks. Shampoo no fight scraps,” she says, pointing at the mess on my face. I almost sigh with relief, realizing she’s accepted my challenge. We’re going to have a real fight.

Excitement floods my cells; my whole body trembles at the promise of the confrontation.

“Fine,” I nod firmly, accepting her terms.

She doesn’t bother finishing her bowl of ramen. She stands up with that succulent disdain that seems to possess her movements. Several men follow her with their eyes as she tosses her hair back in a practiced yet intoxicating gesture.

“Get affairs in order, Shampoo show no mercy,” she declares as if she were saying good afternoon, and I bite my lower lip because I know she’s trying to provoke me.

“I’ll tell Ranma you send your regards,” I smile with the same fake sweetness she’s shown me, and that infuriates her. I feel her murderous eyes on me, as if she’s planning to do it right here and now.

“Don’t bother. Shampoo already say hello this morning,” she replies, and now I’m the one who turns livid. I try to feign a calmness I don’t feel while we both stab each other with our eyes.

Finally, the Chinese fighter storms off, slamming the door, without bothering to pay for her meal. I feel all the customers’ eyes on me, and I have the feeling that our conversation has been much more public than I would have liked.

I get up from the table, trying to calm down and focus on working. It’s Akari’s first day, I’ve left her completely alone, and to top it all off, she just witnessed my heated exchange with Shampoo.

She must think I’m a freeloader, and that I’m in deep trouble.

She’s right about one of those things.

I pick up the bowl, assuming it’ll have to come out of my paycheck. She hasn’t even finished it, the little harpy. What she said about greeting Ranma is definitely not true, just a way to make me doubt myself. She’s an expert at these things, at exploiting other people’s insecurities. It’s like she has a damn radar.

I grab the finished dishes from other tables and head to the sink. Akari runs into me and drags me to a corner while I try to balance the plates.

“Akane, that was…”

«Did you hear?” I ask ruefully, because the restaurant isn’t big enough to pretend otherwise.

“…amazing! You’re amazing!”

“Huh?”

“The way you stood up to her and kicked her out, I would have been shaking in my boots the whole time.”

“I didn’t kick her out, she left.”

“Don’t minimize yourself.”

Perhaps I’m the one who’s got the wrong idea about Akari. Her eyes shine with resolve, with a fervor bordering on adoration.

“Thank you?” I venture, not quite knowing what to say.

“Let’s have dinner together as soon as my shift is over, please,» she pleads, her eyebrows furrowed, and I blink, discovering I’m weak for kindness, especially from another woman. I nod slowly, and she jumps up and down, excited.

I guess I have something like a date.

.

..

…

From the restaurant, we headed straight to one of the few bars in the area that stays open late. It’s a bar full of old guys who smoke way too much and the food stinks, but that’s fine by me. Akari excitedly takes my hands and smiles brightly as she hands me a beer.

“I knew we were going to get along as soon as I saw your phone.”

“My phone?” I ask, confused, pulling my old cell phone out of one of my pockets. The damn thing has been silent all day, no sign of Ranma. I sigh deeply as I scroll through my messages again, like I’ve probably been doing all day at work.

“It’s because of P-chan,” she points to the small keychain I wear as a decoration hanging from the phone case, the mascot of the Nerima police district. I didn’t even buy it; I got it by chance the day they announced the design and were gifting some merchandise. “I’m a huge P-chan fan,” she says, pulling out her own phone and showing me the same keychain, which immediately brings a smile to my face.

“It’s…”

“I think it’s…”

“…adorable!” We both finish at the same time, bursting into genuine, happy laughter. Akari has a bit of an eccentric look, but so do I. She’s not judging me for being absolutely beaten up, she hasn’t asked me a single awkward question, and it’s so relaxing, not to mention she’s a first class server. 

“So what was that about? Does she want to steal your boyfriend?” she says, lowering her voice to a more confidential tone. I take a sip of my drink, trying to find the right words.

“He’s not my boyfriend, but… Yeah, that’s exactly what she wants.”

“What a bitch.”

The statement catches me off guard. I stare at her, dumbfounded, and she shrugs, as if she hadn’t just said what I’d been thinking for ages, but without the courage to voice it. Maybe it wasn’t for lack of wanting to; maybe it was that I didn’t have anyone I could express myself to so freely.

“What? Nobody talks to my friend like that,” she says, tapping her bottle against mine and taking a long swig.

“Friend?»

“Friend,” she smiles. «Well, only if you want to too.”

“I do,” I nod, trying not to look like a desperate fool, clinging to that lifeline with both hands.

We exchange phone numbers, joke around, and Akari tells me about a gorgeous policeman who came for lunch. Before I know it, it’s past midnight, and we’re both drunk and happy. We said goodbye a few meters ahead, where our paths diverge, and I continued laughing for a while, Akari sending me absurd messages of which I understood one out of every three words.

She managed to make me forget my worries with her cheerful and carefree chatter, and suddenly the world doesn’t seem so hostile. For the first time since my high school days, I’ve gone out to have fun with a friend, and it felt extraordinary.

The night air grows warmer and carries me back to the guesthouse. I pause for a moment and look back as the laughter and commotion gradually fades from my ears, and I am left alone in the darkness.

Am I really?

He always follows me, making sure I get back safely. I’ve never needed anyone in all these years, but here and now, as the joy fades and the wounds begin to sting, I become aware of my need.

“Ranma? Are you there?” I ask the starless night.

No one answers. I expected as much. I quicken my pace, feeling absurd and ashamed. I’ve angered Ranma, pushed him to the limit. Maybe he hates me now, maybe… Maybe he regrets kissing me.

I stare straight ahead, trying not to let it affect me, but I feel the sting at the corner of my eyes, and that familiar feeling I’ve experienced so many times in the last day. Akari’s company doesn’t make up for his absence, the fact that I went against his wishes, or that he left me.

That’s it, Ranma left me.

The thought hits me suddenly, like a wave crashing from the sea and sweeping across the shore. My stomach lurches, and I lean against a lamppost, losing my balance and vomiting up the meager two beers I’d drunk. I finish emptying myself with a final gag, feeling like I’m dying.

And even in my tragedy, I can’t stop thinking about how much I need him by my side, about the hole I feel in my chest, how my heart aches.

I pull myself together and try to walk upright. I need sleep and to take another painkiller, so maybe in the morning I can think more clearly and bury deep what keeps knocking at the door of my ravaged mind.

What I can no longer hide in any way, shape or form.

.

..

…

Huge thanks, again and always, to our lifesaver Dani for doing such an amazing job translating this chapter!

Don’t forget to leave us your comments and thoughts—that’s our only reward, and it keeps us motivated to keep creating.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

Hello again!

Those of you who have already read some of my other fics know that I adore drama, and DLF couldn’t be an exception things were never going to be all easy and wonderful given their complicated situations. This chapter isn’t especially revealing, but it does help move the plot toward a very specific point. I hope you enjoyed it.

Thank you so, so much for the heaps and heaps of lovely comments you left us on the previous chapter what a joy to know we’re reaching so many people! Of course, we’ll keep doing our best to finish this project. Isa’s illustrations are always full of feeling and color, and I feel like I’ve made them very sad with this chapter… Thank you to our tireless translator Dani for helping us reach so many more people internationally, and thanks to my betas, Sakura and Lucita, for helping me spot all my mistakes.

And above all, thank you to all of you who help spread the word and send us your love in the form of comments.

Lum

ILLUSTRATOR’S NOTE:

Ooooh, New Year’s surprise! Thank you all for the reviews and your lovely words on the latest chapters they make us so happy.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and don’t forget to leave your comments :)) kisses.

Isa