Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I slowly came to, my head a jumbled mess.

“Aj… va fan hände?” I asked nobody in particular while I rubbed my aching head. Something had hit me fast and hard.

About the only thing I could be sure of was that I was a girl. I was glad I got that sorted, because nothing else in my head made any sense. I had no idea who I was, when I was, where I was, which of four languages to use, why I was here, or why my head hurt so much.

Long ingrained instincts screamed at me to get up, to get ready for a fight, so I got to my feet on legs that shook like a newborn fawn's. I looked around, glaring while I was taking in the rest of the room.

Two teenage girls, one almost a grown woman, two teenaged boys, and a… panda? were in the room with me. The oldest girl looked confused and worried, the younger had her arms up in a fighting stance while glaring at me. Of the two boys, the one in a Chinese silk shirt and his long hair in a tight pigtail looked at me with concern and worry.

“Look,” he said in Japanese, waving an arm wardingly. “This was all an accident and you did not lose-”

The boy behind him didn't seem concerned. “Liar!” He gave the other a shove while wearing an evil sneer. “Now accept your kiss with some dignity!”

Yes, I thought mussily. The memories rose up as the associations lined up connections inside of my scrambled brain. Boy + Defeat + Kiss = Kiss of Marriage. An important cultural tradition among my people for adding strong outsider blood to the tribe.

Something felt fundamentally off to me about that concept, however, as if I was of two minds about who I was, but I didn't think to question it further as there was a cute boy here that I needed to kiss. Knowing that, having something to cling to for stability while I still hadn’t been able to figure out my own name yet, felt reassuring. So I wrapped my arms around his neck and smiled up at him.

While the pigtailed boy shut his eyes, looking terribly anxious, I leaned up on my toes and sealed my lips to his, closing my own eyes and enjoying the moment. He seemed terribly anxious as we kissed, and I pressed my body closer, regretting that my protective breastplate prevented our bodies from molding themselves tighter to each other.

Kissing someone, hugging them and feeling their body close to my own, was a really grounding experience. I remembered that my name is Shan Pu of the Nujiezu, but my memories of being a sixteen year old warrior from an out of the way tribe in rural China were jumbled up with the memories of a late twenties transgender girl in denial from northern Scandinavia.

I opened my eyes, horror filling me as the last memory from that Scandinavian girl materialised in my mind. That of a speeding logging truck on a midnight road approaching my car as I slid down an icy hill towards certain death, my brakes useless.

The pigtailed boy’s head snapped sideways and I recognized the brightly painted head of my own chuí as it impacted his temple and broke our kiss.

“How long were you two going to swap spit for!?” the short haired girl roared, and she and the pigtailed boy began bickering with each other.

I didn't pay any attention to them, too busy having a massive existential crisis about my own identity. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” I began swearing in a mix of Mandarin, English, and Swedish, while my fingers wove into my hair, nails digging painfully into my scalp.

“..ss? Miss?” Someone insisted, touching me lightly on the arm as they tried to get my attention.

“Huh?” I looked up and it was the long haired girl dressed like a housewife. The name Tendo Kasumi bubbled up from my short term memory and I vaguely remembered that she had served me tea after she invited me in.

“Are you alright? You look like you're in distress?” Kasumi asked, looking worried.

I honestly wasn't sure. I looked around and realized that everyone was looking at me. The pigtailed boy and short haired girl had stopped their argument to stare at me, the panda was trying to look inconspicuous in a corner, while the wild haired boy with a bandana just looked confused and annoyed.

Panda. I was hunting a panda and a girl named Ranma. This boy was also called Ranma. The older girl was named Kasumi. And the girl with short blue hair… Akane?

“Oh fuck my life!” I swore loudly in English, using a phrase that wouldn't become popular for another twenty five years if my guess was correct, making everyone jump. My name is Shan Pu! I'm Shampoo from Ranma ½! Horror filled me at the realization. She was one of the girls in that series that pursued a shared love interest that was madly in love with another girl but he also had the emotional maturity of a sea cucumber!

And the worst part was that while knowing that I had no chance with the guy, I still wanted him! I’d spent the last sixteen years having it drilled into me that marrying an outsider man that could defeat me in single combat was the height of romance, women in my tribe telling me romantic stories of female warriors battling it out with men and marrying them, taking them back to the tribe and raising strong warrior children. 

Having twenty eight years of memories that told me that was stupid and a silly plot for a romantic martial arts gag manga didn't help when I just wanted to cuddle up to the guy and kiss him again, the touch of his lips still fresh on mine.

“What's all this noise?” An older man asked as he peered into the washitzu. Sound? Soun! Tendo Soun! That's his name, the Tendo sisters' father.

“Ranma and this- this- this floozie from China just-” Akane began, but Ranma interrupted her.

“I had no part in that!” He protested. “ She kissed me , and I have no clue why!”

And I'd do it again. The thought snuck through before I remembered what my future would be if I blindly went down that road. Things were getting crowded, and while I could tolerate it slightly better now than before, the stress of the situation and people yelling at each other made my anxiety spike.

I silently pulled out my hand bound book on the traditions of the Nujiezu and shoved it into Kasumi's hands, then turned around and left. This was the Tendo Dojo, right? I could probably find some solitude and try to center myself in the training hall.

The Dojo looked… well, like a training hall built in a traditional Japanese style. All the little accoutrements you’d expect. A shrine to pray to, a banner that said The Fundamentals. Several Target dummies made out of canvas and straw stood in a row, the last of which looked particularly worn. After giving it a closer look I discovered that it had a straw pigtail hanging off the back of its head. It’d be for Akane to take her frustrations out on when Ranma’s foot in mouth disease had a bad relapse, I guessed.

Gods, thinking about Ranma and the burgeoning crush I had on him reminded me that I was so incredibly fucked.

I moved to the center of the room and began going through a series of warmup exercises of increasing complexity, the simple meditative quality of which helped center me and sort out my frazzled mind.

I took step after careful step, breathing slowly, moving according to an ancient pattern. I followed precise movements that were slow motion replicas of crushing blows, counters, and throws designed to help focus my mind and train my body. Nowadays it would be referred to as Tai Chi, but no modern practitioner would recognize any of the forms I was using.

Part of me, the late twenties girl, too tired from depression and dysphoria to exercise properly and learn Tai Chi like she always wanted, was delighted by how easily the Nujiezu style came to me. Not even remembering the thousands of hours I spent practicing until the steps and turns became second nature could completely dull the rise in my spirits.

I decided to switch to swordplay and while I wasn’t a master of the art, like Mu Su who could keep a nearly endless arsenal on his person, I was able to keep a modest amount of emergency supplies and a backup weapon in a pocket of chi around me. So I reached into the pocket of space that I had carefully folded around myself using my chi and pulled out my jian from behind my back. This wasn’t the cheap, unsharpened replica I had bought through the internet in my previous life, this was a proper hand forged sword, sharp and deadly.

I moved into a series of forms designed with the sword in mind. The sword responded eagerly, singing through the air as it cut my imaginary opponents apart in a slow motion dance of death.

I had unknowingly given Ranma the Kiss of Death and the Kiss of Marriage. Which meant that I was honor bound to return with either her head on a plate or his hand in marriage. The punishment for failure wasn’t exactly death or exile, but it wasn’t that much better, either.

If I returned empty handed then according to the manga the odds were good that I’d get myself dunked in one of the springs at Jusenkyo by my own great-grandmother, before the elder tosses me back into the meatgrinder to try and get Ranma to come back to the tribe with me. Because everything centered around Ranma.

But if I didn't come home with Ranma one way or the other, then what? I was a sixteen year old illegal Chinese girl stuck in Japan in 1991. I had no educational record, no proof of identity, and no skills aside from hurting people.

Incredibly. Fucked.

Okay that was a lie. I shouldn’t discount the fact that I had a good knowledge of medicine and pressure points. And from my old memories I could remember how to drive a car, operate heavy machinery, ride a motorcycle, and I had a decent basic knowledge of mechanical repair. My memories of working on computers and electronics were largely twenty five years out of date, in the wrong direction. What use would the knowledge on how to watercool a computer from 2016 be in 1990’s Japan?

And what if great-grandmother Ku Lon found out about my new set of memories? 

The wrinkly old bat was crafty and unpredictable, and definitely not above doing some ethically sketchy shit. Like cursing her own great grandchild into becoming a cat, or manipulating her mental state without her knowledge or consent. She would not be above using the Xi Fa Xiang Gao technique on me and seal away those troublesome memories if they kept me from pursuing Ranma the way she wanted me to.

And with nothing to help me remember, like when it happened to Akane in the manga, would my old memories ever resurface?

The tip of the jian slid deep into the body of one of the anonymous target dummies, piercing its metaphorical heart and sliding out the other side.

“Maybe I should let her?” I asked the dummy. It would make things so much easier. No doubts, no conflicting identity. Just the simple certainty of a naive kid from rural China that things can be solved if she threw herself at a boy just one more time.

“Let who do what?” someone asked behind me.

I gave off an undignified squawk and jumped, landing behind the training dummy and balancing on the tip of the jian that was stuck through the straw target. I peered around the canvas head at the person that had snuck in and startled me.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I cussed in English, then switched to Japanese as I continued to admonish the black haired boy that stood there looking awkward. “Don’t do that!”

“Don’t do what?” he asked, looking genuinely confused for a moment, and my heart did a somersault at the simple innocent expression on his face. 

Gods, I really was falling in love with him… In my other life I had never been very swift on the uptake when girls and women flirted with me, and shy to boot, and any crushes never came to much. And now I had at least thirty years of not being attracted to men to deal with alongside being attracted to both of…

Wow, okay, fuck… Being attracted to both of Ranma’s forms.

I groaned and slid off the tip of my perch and landed on the floor, flopping bonelessly into a dramatic pile as I dealt with a sudden crisis around my sexuality. Remembering decades of being a lesbian repressing my gender shattered the fragile illusion that had been built up around my feelings about other girls and older women, hidden by telling myself that I was just appreciating their sculpted bodies or admiring my older peers. 

“Hey, woah? A-are you okay?” the hapless idiot asked, taking a step closer. “Are you dizzy? I can get you to Dr. Tofu if you are concussed.”

Nooo, don’t be nice to me! You’re not helping! I whined silently. “No, I just…” I sighed dramatically. “I just realized that I’m…” Bisexual. “You know what, it doesn’t matter. What did you want, Ranma?”

“We uhm, we read the book…”

I continued staring at the ceiling. “Let me guess something first,” I interrupted him. “Soun tried to read it, but he couldn’t.” I sat up and turned to study Ranma’s face. “Until Nabiki figured out there’s a Japanese translation in the margin?”

Ranma blinked. “Uhm… yeah,” he began, then frowned. “Wait, how do you know about Nabiki, or about Mr Tendo’s name?”

Well, that confirmed that. That meant that my rudimentary knowledge of Ranma 1/2 canon was likely to hold true, at least until I began changing things. Intentionally or unintentionally. I was already upsetting things by not literally fawning over the handsome- I shook the impulse out of her head. “Long story,” I told him. And I wish I knew why as well.

“Continue.” I gestured for Ranma to resume from where I had interrupted him.

“Right, so, I already have a fiance,” Ranma began.

I know. I thought irritably. In fact, he had way more than that, and that was just the ones that his father had agreed to. Ukyo and the Frenchman were the two that immediately came to mind.

“And some ancient laws that tell you that you need to kill women and marry men who defeat you are pure stone age,” he continued.

I know! I repeated in my head, feeling my left eye begin to twitch with annoyance.

Ranma had a serious look on his face. “So, do you get it, Shampoo?”

“YES!” I yelled as the tiny amount of mental balance I’d been able to maintain with my earlier meditation fell apart. “Yes I fucking get it!” At some point without noticing I’d ended up almost chest to chest with the boy. “You think it’s stupid and backwards but guess what!” I poked him hard in the chest and he winced.

“IT’S ALL I HAVE!” Gods, saying it out loud made it so much worse. My little sister, who had moved south to be with her girlfriend. My dad, who never could figure out how to deal with my gender issues. My mom, who loved knitting and flowers. My two remaining grandparents, my uncles, aunts, cousins.

I had never been particularly close with my family, untreated autism, depression, gender, and body dysphoria meant that I had been introverted and taciturn. Keeping mainly to myself and the friends I had on the internet.

And now I would never get the chance to talk to my old family ever again. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t think of anything I actually wanted to say, it still cut deeply.

So I decided to share my pain, I was good at that after all. “So what do you think I should do? Huh?” I poked him again, harder, and he took a step back. “If I go back now I’ll be treated as a failure! I couldn’t kill the girl Ranma, and couldn’t bring you back with me. So, what do you think my tribe will do to me!?” He opened his mouth but I rolled right over him, gripping the front of his shirt. “I’ll tell you what. My grandmother will knock me into one of the springs at Jusenkyo as punishment then mail me right back here to finish the job!”

Ranma flinched, and I saw the flash of empathy in his eyes. Ranma was spineless when it came to women, he’d tell me no in every manner but an outright denial.

“It is all I have…” I repeated, shame welling up as I realized that I was crying.

Strong arms wrapped around me and I found myself hugged tightly to Ranma’s chest. “I’m… sorry,” he said awkwardly, and I nuzzled into his shirt, sniffling. The tangzhuang was of a surprisingly high quality. Idly I wondered where Ranma had gotten it. His dad was a cheap son of a bitch and wouldn’t have spent the money on expensive shirts on his son, even to impress Soun’s daughters.

Maybe I could… Thinking of the Xi Fa Xiang Gao technique earlier gave me an idea. A horrible idea. Shampoo merely erasing Akane’s memories of Ranma hadn’t been enough in the Manga, but what if I went further? Tried to erase Ranma’s memories of Akane as well, or even inserting myself in Akane’s place while putting her in the role of the woman that had hunted him for weeks?

The sound of wood splintering caught my attention and I looked up to see Akane hunched in the doorway, hand gripping the frame and crushing the hardy cedar as if it was balsa wood while she glared at the two of us.

Yes, I thought. It would be easy to twist the image of Akane in Ranma’s mind, make her a tormentor and insert myself in her place. She was quick to anger, to lash out. Remove all the positive memories of her and leave only the girl that hurt him. It would be easier for me to charm him as well, knowing how badly Ranma reacted to intimacy. I could work him much slower than Shampoo did in the manga. Tickle the lock of his heart rather than trying to kick the door in, even if the desire to cuddle the boy was overwhelming.

Ranma noticed what I was looking at and jumped aside, leaving about a meter of cold empty space between us, and the moment shattered like glass.

“A-a-akane! This is not what it looks like,” he tried. 

Akane smiled and it was painfully obvious that it was a false one. “Oh, I see.” She straightened up. “I wanted to spend some time using the Dojo, but if you two would rather use it to get to know each other.” With that she turned on her heels and stomped off. Ranma tried to follow, but the moment he turned the corner out of view I heard the sound of a slap ring out.

I sighed, shoulders slumping. I was unsure of what to do now. I couldn’t just go home, but staying in Japan had its own set of problems. Money, for one. Somewhere to stay as well. Although continuing to skirt the law couldn’t be too difficult, considering how much property destruction that the gang got up to without repercussions in the manga.

My mind went to the Judo Therapist and acupuncturist where I’d found Genma hanging around. Oh right, Dr Tofu! It probably wouldn’t be too difficult to convince him to let me work for him! Shampoo had managed it in the manga, after all.

Now I just needed to figure out somewhere better to stay than a tent in the forest. If I remembered correctly Shampoo had just casually snuck in to sleep in Ranma’s futon which… tempting, but not sustainable. I would need a different approach.

Chapter Text

I found Kasumi in her kitchen, which wasn’t surprising. It was a constant in the manga to the point of parody that she was the caretaker of the Tendo family, and I intended to use that to my benefit. The woman was terminally good natured and likable, to the point that even Happosai didn’t bother her if I remembered correctly.

“Yes?” she said, turning around and giving me an easy smile. “Can I help you, Shampoo?”

That was interesting. I hadn’t made a sound, nor cast a shadow into the room. Looking behind her I couldn’t see anything reflective that was likely to give me away either. Maybe I shouldn’t underestimate her, even if her talents were wasted spending her time as a housekeeper to her father and sisters.

Still, she was the eldest woman in this household, so my deference went to her rather than Soun, whom I disliked for a host of different reasons. I bowed to her, showing Kasumi the respect the matron of a household was due. “I am terribly sorry for the trouble I have caused you, Miss Tendo, and I hope you'll forgive my outburst at the table earlier.”

“Oh it’s no trouble,” Kasumi waved the matter off. “We needed to replace that table anyway.”

“Still, I was hoping that I could impose on you for a couple of days while I work out what to do?”

“Oh, yes,” Kasumi said, wiping her hands on a towel and taking my book out of her apron pocket, returning it to me. “We did read all about your… predicaments,” she said hesitantly.

I hesitated as well. Should I tell her that I knew of Ranma’s curse now, or leave that to later? Should I tell her everything, in fact? A lot of things I knew about people’s past history could really only be proven by the fathers reactions, and things like the Neko-Ken and Dragon Whisker were really private and Ranma would not be happy if I brought them up.

“Yes, I can't return home until I have…” I considered my words, but Kasumi nodded and waved the matter away easily.

“Yes, I quite understand,” she said easily, and I couldn't help the sceptical look I gave her. “I will sort things out and have a futon ready for you tonight.”

I bowed again. “Thank you, Miss Kasumi. I need to go and gather my things, but when I return perhaps I could help out with dinner?”

A brief haunted look came over the woman's face. “I… no, no I shouldn't need any help, thank you, and you're quite welcome. After all, this is a matter between you and Ranma to sort out.”

Kasumi's reaction was understandable, I suppose, for someone that lived with Akane and her “cooking”. And while I made my way to pick up my stuff I thanked the gods that I wasn't as bad a chef as the youngest Tendo sister. Something about that nagged at me, however, like a hangnail that would catch on fabric. Sure, my old memories didn't involve much in the way of cooking beyond pan frying and making simple stews, but…

I shook the matter off, and before I knew it I was at my tiny hidden campsite and could begin to pack it up.

Back in my old life I had been quite interested in live action roleplaying, specifically post-apocalypse roleplaying, but the pretense at outdoor living that entailed paled in comparison to what I now knew about living and surviving in the wilds of East Asia. 

Once again, the things I knew now and the experience I had combined with my past yearning and made me giddy. So I hummed a little tune as I happily struck down my camp and I didn't even yell at the tanuki that had gotten into my food supply and was eating a pack of biscuits I had saved. I just prodded it with a stick until it left, cussing me out for interrupting its meal.

When I returned dinner was almost ready and Kasumi sent me out to fetch Akane from the back yard. 

Akane had brought out the training dummy that had the straw pigtail and was thrashing it to within an inch of its life. I studied her movements and was dismayed at how sloppy her form was. Before my knock on the head I wouldn't have hesitated to sweep her aside, and I remembered that Shampoo had tried to kill her a couple of times in the Manga, but now… 

She had potential. She'd stopped one of my killing blows cold with her bare hands and that was not an easy feat, but she let her emotions rule her actions. 

I walked closer, making no effort to hide my presence. Akane eventually looked up when she heard me approach. “What do you want?” she snarled.

“Miss Kasumi told me to tell you that dinner is ready,” I answered as I studied her closer. I hated to admit it, but she was really cute. Even when she was scowling at me. Maybe especially because she was scowling at me. I felt my cheeks flush and I broke eye contact. Having old memories surface and admitting to myself that I had a thing for girls was messing with my composure.

“You're staying for dinner?” Akane asked in outrage and I turned to glance back at her.

“Yes,” I told her. “I have no choice. My Airen is staying here, so I have no choice but to remain close, my honor demands it.” 

Akane's fist clenched and I saw the anger bubble up before she huffed and marched past me. “Fine, do whatever you want. Not like another freeloader makes any difference.”

I stuck my tongue out at her back, then followed. 

As I studied her while I followed, I again thought about my predicament. Against my better judgement, I was crushing hard on Ranma. Ranma was madly in love with Akane, but he had the social graces of a baboon with tooth decay. And Akane was in love with Ranma, but would never admit it out loud, especially when pressed.

Akane was an obstacle, and it was the natural order of things that obstacles were removed, but removing Akane from the equation safely was tricky, and liable to blow up in my face. I needed time to think, and plan. Planning was something that I had never been good at, in either life, and I didn't think that a little foreknowledge on what might happen the next couple of years equated to a proper plan.

When sitting down to eat I was tempted to sit down between Akane and Ranma, and if I hadn't gained those new memories I likely would have, as well as trying to feed Ranma and flirt constantly. Instead I sat down on the other side, sandwiching him between me and Akane. 

I glared at Genma, who was helping himself to a bowl of rice and meat. I wondered how he was able to digest things like meat and alcohol while in his panda form, and decided to fuck with him a little as payback for eating my victory feast.

He didn't expect me to grab the bowl out of his paws while admonishing him like a toddler, which was likely the only reason why I could manage it at all. “No, bad panda. That is human food. Not for you.” I glared at Soun while the rest of the table stared at me in astonished wonder. “Why do you allow a rare Chinese animal to sit at a table and eat human food that will make it sick?” 

Soun floundered while I played keep away with the food from Genma, much to his increasing frustration. “I err, that is…” 

I took the opportunity to lean my back against Ranma while annoying his father by keeping his food away from him, and it seemed that the contact didn't bother the boy as much as the full body tackle hugs in the Manga did. 

It did bother Akane, however, which was expected. “Will you stop making a racket and bothering everyone?”

“I dunno sis, I think it's some of the best entertainment we've gotten so far,” Nabiki commented.

I stopped to mock glare at Akane, finally letting Genma get his meal back, however when he tried to take a slice of meat from my own bowl I jabbed him in the paw with my chopsticks.

“Besides, it's not your panda, why do you care?” Akane asked.

“Where it goes, girl Ranma is close,” I said testily, ignoring Ranma's nervous sweating. “I followed her through half of China and that panda was never far away,” I explained, pointing at Genma with my chopsticks and warning him not to try and take anything from my bowl.

I still wasn't sure if I wanted to reveal that I knew about Ranma's curse, and especially not about what I remembered from the manga. If they didn't buy it, at best I sounded like a lunatic, and at worst it might make its way to great grandmother Ku Lon and who knows what she'd do.

Akane hmphed and we ate in silence for a while until Kasumi spoke up. “By the way, Shampoo, I was thinking that you could share a room with Akane.” I had no problem with that, but Akane exploded. 

“What!?” she yelled, making my ears ring. “Why should I have to share a room with that… that…” She was gearing up to say something incredibly rude.

“Chinese hussy?” I suggested venomously.

“Y-yeah, that,” Akane concluded, looking annoyed that she'd gotten help with insults from the person she was trying to offend.

“Little sister,” Kasumi admonished. “She can hardly stay in Ranma's room, and the bottom floor guest room is still full of the things we moved to clear out the upstairs guest room.”

“I don't mind sleeping with Airen,” I said mischievously, giving the boy a smile that nearly made him spill his water all over himself. Shame, it would have given me an easy out by letting me ‘find out’ about his girl form.

“Absolutely not!” Akane yelled, outraged.

“Why not?” I asked, enjoying winding Akane up like this. I was beginning to see why Ranma did it all the time. “He is my husband.”

Kasumi opened her mouth to speak but Akane got there first. “And I'm his fiancee!” Then as she realized what she'd said her face turned pink.

I shrugged. “So we both sleep in Ranma’s room. Problem solved.” The look I gave the two made them turn identical shades of crimson. Nabiki began cackling and fell over laughing while Kasumi clapped her hands sharply, getting our attention.

“Certainly not. That would be highly inappropriate, no matter your marital status. You are far too young,” she said, and there was steel in her voice that I hadn't heard before.

“Fiiine,” I grumbled, returning my attention to my- Sonova fucking panda!!! To my empty bowl.

~~~

I'm not sure I would have called myself a weeabo before I died. I liked reading manga and watching anime and had an interest in Japanese and Asian cultures, but read western comics, watched cartoons for young and old, read fantasy and science fiction books, and had an interest in post apocalyptic roleplaying. And that's not even touching the games I played. 

The point I'm getting at is that I had a broad range of interests, not just manga and anime. But even before I remembered my past, as I entered Japan, I had to admit that the Japanese had perfected communal bathing and baths in general. So I wasn't shy about spending what little money I had on public baths.

So I was looking forward to washing today's gunk off and relaxing in the Tendo’s private furo after dinner. 

Of course, when I opened the door to the outer bath I was met with a very surly glare from Akane who was in the process of stripping off her gi.

I raised my hands defensively. “I’m just here to take a bath,” I told her. If we were going to share a room it was time to establish a few demilitarized zones. The bath seemed like a good place to start.

She snorted and turned away, and we got undressed in silence. I had brought my own toiletries for several reasons, not the least of which was that modern haircare products sucked in my opinion.

Akane wasn't hard to look at. Her physical training had given her a physique worthy of a Nujiezu even if her martial arts skills needed work. 

Looking down on my own body as I sat down to clean myself was surreal, and euphoric. I had lived in this body for all of my life, but before today I hadn't had twenty eight years of memories of living in the wrong sex to give me context for just how wonderful it could feel to just be myself.

I quickly dumped a bucket of water over my head to hide the tears that ran freely from my eyes. I felt good. Happy. I was stuck in a difficult scenario but my body felt right in a way that made me feel light as a feather.

“What brand is that?” Akane asked a few minutes later when I was massaging shampoo into my scalp.

I cleared my throat to make sure I didn't let on that I had been crying, then began working the shampoo into the rest of my hair.

“It's a private recipe,” I told her. “Hand made.”

She picked up the bottle and sniffed it. “It smells wonderful, who made it?”

“I did,” I answered. “And I wouldn't recommend that you try it, unless you want your roots to grow in purple for the next three weeks.”

“You're joking!” Akane blurted out at me, looking from the bottle to my hair.

I didn't answer, instead I carefully teased out a single strand of purple hair, pulled it out by the root, and handed it over to Akane who examined it against the white tiles.

Was she confused because she thought I used hair dye? Hers was a deep blue black, and she was used to seeing Ranma's girl form, so unusual hair colors couldn't have been that big a shock to her?

Akane was silent as we finished washing and got into the furo to soak for a while. I groaned in relief. Hot water soaks were a divine luxury. Self heating bathtubs weren't a common thing in Scandinavia, and if you lived somewhere rural, hot water in amounts necessary to bathe in was expensive in the long run, or you needed to start up a furnace. And they eventually got cold. The Nujiezu village didn't have hot springs, either.

After a while of comfortable silence Akane spoke up. “Can you do other colors?” she asked.

I opened my eyes to look at her, then nodded. “Yes, it's not difficult, although exact shades are tricky.” I wasn't going to tell her about my hot pink phase when I was ten. My sisters still teased me about it.

“And it's not dangerous?”

I shrugged. “Not unless you are allergic to one of the ingredients.”

The rest of the evening passed in relative peace. Kasumi led me to Akane's room at the end of the upper floor hallway, past which was a balcony door and not much else.

The youngest Tendo sister still wasn't happy about sharing her room with me, and was cuddling her pet pig and glaring at me as I set down my pack next to the futon her sister had rolled out.

Ah, Ryoga… I was going to have a “talk” with him at some point for tricking me into kissing Ranma. I was uncertain if I would have been able to keep from developing a crush on the sometimes boy sometimes girl, but at least I would have had enough time to get my head sorted before committing to marrying the handsome idiot.

“This is not a sleepover,” Akane told me.

I smiled and brought out my Japanese language textbook. “Of course,” I agreed.

“Just so that we are clear,” she pushed. “This is only until you get a place of your own.”

I nodded, flipping the pages over to my bookmark and getting pen and paper out to continue studying. Speaking the language was one thing, but getting the symbols down fluently was another. I tapped the pen against my chin as I considered getting English and Swedish textbooks as well. Just to make sure I didn't lose those languages. Although I had always thought that Swedish sounded stupid and had much preferred to communicate in English in the past… the past that was technically the future.

I stopped that line of thinking before it could give me a headache.

After a while I got distracted by a familiar tune and looked up. Akane was playing an original Game Boy while P-Chan was sitting on her shoulder, watching. Her bedside lamp was angled to light up the screen.

I scooted closer and peered at the screen. Oh! She was playing Tetris! That's why the tune was so familiar. It was a catchy song from the Soviet Union, made almost unrecognizable by the crappy momo speaker of the handheld device.

After a moment she noticed me and repositioned herself to give me a better view and I watched in silence as she played for a couple of minutes.

I wondered when the Pokemon games would come out. I got a Game Boy Color as a birthday gift when I was a kid along with Pokemon Silver, and I played that game to death, then I did the same to Pokemon Crystal.

Well, when I was a kid the first time around. Stupid timey wimey stuff.

“Have you never seen a Game Boy before?” Akane asked, and I shook my head.

“Not up close,” I told her honestly. “Seen advertisements, but Japanese imports are very expensive in China.” And I hadn't bothered getting an older model Game Boy in my earlier life.

After a few more minutes of silence Akane said absently. “If you want to try it you'll have to get your own batteries.”

I hummed in agreement and pulled my textbooks over to me and we sat in silence for a while until Akane needed to go to sleep.

~~~

I yawned tiredly as I drove, music blaring through the car stereo while I squinted through tired eyes at the white blur past the windscreen. Winter, snow, and the high beams of my car were turning the outside world into a fuzzy mess.

The temperature gauge on my Saab 900 Talladega was staying kind of low and the AC wasn't quite keeping up, so I would need to remember to put a piece of cardboard in front of the radiator when I got home to get it to maintain the temperature for the rest of the winter. 

Looking at my hands on the steering wheel they were small and dainty. Well maintained nails, and not the rough hands with a little bit of black fuzz near the wrist that I was used to. I looked down and instead of the late twenties Scandinavian male body I expected, I was small and fit, wearing a qipao that flattered my chest instead of the black sweater and work pants I normally wore on the way back home from work.

Vaguely I became aware that I was probably dreaming, and tilting the rear view mirror confirmed it as Shan Pu's face looked back at me.

Mirror Shan Pu scowled and instead of the music coming through the speakers it was her voice instead. “This is all your fault.” she told me in Mandarin. “I should be sleeping in Airen's bed right now, not a bedroll on Violent Girl’s floor!”

“Naah, it wouldn't work out,” I told her, using my native language, but it came out in a mirror of her voice. “Ranma doesn't respond well to that kind of thing. You need to romance him on his terms, not throw yourself at him. Besides, Akane would dump a bucket of water on you in the morning when she found out and you'd just end up chasing Ranma's girl form around the house all morning.”

“I still do not believe they are the same person,” Shan Pu pouted in the mirror at me. “And why wouldn't it work!? Boys are stupid. Shake your butt and show a little cleavage and they are all the same.”

“Not all of them work like that,” I told her. “Not when they're already in love with someone else. It will work out about as well for you as when Mu Su tries to throw himself at you.”

Shan Pu scowled, annoyed, and we drove in silence through the forest for a while until we started going down a familiar hill.

“Shit,” I swore and started to push the brake pedal. Nothing happened and I began a familiar litany of curses.

“Satan's förbannade jävla helvette! Funka bromsjävel!” I cussed as I tried to do everything possible to slow down, but to no avail. The E-brake didn't work, neither did shifting to a lower gear, or even trying to run off the road into the ditch. My car continued down the steep hill, slipping on the black ice that had been hidden by powdered snow.

“What's happening!?” Shan Pu asked, looking horrified in my rear view mirror.

I didn't answer, too focused on trying everything, anything that might stop the inevitable, and as I did I became aware of the logging truck approaching on the road below. 

I tried to honk my horn and flash my high beams to let him know I was coming, but they didn't respond either. The front of the truck became huge as we both reached the intersection below, his lights filling the cab of my car.

I didn't want to experience this again. Once had been enough. The truck’s horn started blaring as he finally noticed me, but it was too late and everything became light and noise.

~~~

I woke up and choked down a scream, curling up on myself.

Chapter Text

Trying not to wake someone else up with my crying wasn't a great way to spend my first night at a new place, so as soon as I felt able to do so without waking her I left Akane's room to try and recover somewhere I wouldn't disturb anyone. Which pretty much meant either the washitzu or the downstairs bathroom.

Reliving dying in a car crash wasn't something that my great grandmother had prepared me for during my training, so I was somewhat on my own. My current mother had died while giving birth to the twins when I was two, so I didn't exactly have the experience of familial grief to fall back on.

When I returned from cleaning up all the snot and tears and walked through the unfamiliar house I encountered something I hadn't expected.

P-Chan was walking around determinedly trying to make his way somewhere, probably the furo and I followed him idly until he got to a dead end and had to turn around, bumping his snout into my foot.

“Well well well,” I said, lifting the black piglet by his bandanna up to my eye level. “If it isn't breakfast.” I quipped, still annoyed at him about shoving Ranma on me.

His little piggy eyes widened and he began struggling and squealing. 

“Relax, Ryoga,” I told him, causing him to stop struggling and look at me, bewildered. “I am not going to eat you, but I do want to have a quick little chat. Now, where are your clothes?”

The piglet looked around, then pointed with a hoof.

“P-Chan, that's the front door. Are your clothes outside?” I asked dubiously.

He shook his head, thought, then pointed the other way. 

“Well, I do need to go to the kitchen for a kettle,” I commented. “Are your clothes in here?” I asked as I turned on the stove and put the kettle on. I was getting tired of the game of twenty questions already.

Eventually I ended up in the cluttered guest room next to the downstairs bathroom, where there was indeed a folded set of clothes next to Ryoga's backpack.

“Alright,” I said, putting the piglet down and pouring hot water on him. “Here you are.”

The piglet shot up in size and mass, turning back into Ryoga. And… 

Okay, so I don't remember the name of the pig obsessed girl that would end up Ryoga's girlfriend in the Manga, but I had to confess that I was just a teensy bit jealous of her. Because wowza~ Ryoga had a broad chest with well defined musculature that would be the eternal envy of most boys his age. 

The boy blushed red and turned around, covering his crotch. “Do you mind!?” he yelled at me.

“No,” I smirked. It wasn't as if I hadn't seen naked boys my age before. Granted, that was when I was in secondary school in Scandinavia, and I hadn't been interested in boys back then. Besides, Ryoga had a cute butt. All that hiking was doing wonders for his physique.

He sputtered and tried to put on his clothes as fast as possible.

“You Japanese are such prudes,” I told him, crossing my arms and tapping my bare foot while I waited.

“Okay,” he said as he finished and turned around. “What did you wa-oww!” He began but was interrupted as I sucker punched him in the face. “What did you do that for?” He asked indignantly, holding his nose.

“That was for being a creep,” I told him, uncaring about how much of a hypocrite I was being. I mainly wanted him to stop interfering with Ranma and Akane so that I could figure out what I should do about the mess I was in.

I turned to leave the room. “Hey!” Ryoga called and I turned to glance back at him. “You can’t just-”

“I believe I just did,” I told him, cutting the boy off and crossing my arms casually, letting my boobs bunch up a little in the thin nightshirt I was wearing. “Now, what are you gonna do about it?” I taunted him. The dude was willing to fight Ranma in his girl form, it’d be interesting to see if he had the same hangups about fighting girls that Ranma had.

Ryoga glanced down at my cleavage, blushed, and grabbed his nose to stop any bloodflow. He was very clearly fuming and considering whether it was worth it to start a fight here and now.

He finally made up his mind and lifted his pack to his shoulder. “Tch! You’re not worth it.” He sneered and walked past me.

I felt my left eye twitch at the insult. Fine, see if I try to do the jerk a favor again. Still, I wanted him to leave and think about stopping the P-Chan ploy, so I let him leave without further comment.

As I was about to go up the stairs to get a couple more minutes of shuteye I encountered Kasumi coming the other way. Damn, was it that early already?

“Oh, good morning, Shampoo,” she greeted me. “I thought I heard a commotion down here?”

I nodded. “I was using the bathroom and thought I heard an intruder, but it was just the boy with the bandana who was lost,” I told her, lying just a smidge.

Kasumi giggled, looking relieved. “Oh, yes, Ryoga does that,” she said, then continued down the stairs. “Would you like to join me in a cup of tea? I have some time before I need to start making breakfast.”

I sighed and stretched. “I suppose,” I agreed. “It is not likely I will get much more sleep anyway.”

The morning passed uneventfully. I discussed my plan to take a job at Tofu’s clinic with Kasumi and when it came time to start breakfast I offered to help, but was turned down again. Feeling antsy and pent up, I ended up in the dojo trying to get some exercise in until breakfast.

I wasn’t only feeling the need to do something, I was also feeling terribly, horribly, touch starved. Months of being on the road looking for Ranma meant that I’ve had no opportunities to spar with my friends back home, or cuddle with my little sisters, or any of a number of casual interactions that were common and encouraged back home but was seen as horribly inappropriate here in Japan, especially in public.

Not that I cared about propriety that much, but with Ranma’s reaction to physical intimacy being what they were, the result was functionally the same, and having him right there was making it difficult to focus.

I needed some way to wear down Ranma’s resistance to physical intimacy, but I was not much in the way of a social manipulator. As far as Xi Fa Xiang Gao went, what I could do was limited. Not because the technique was limited in what it could do, but because I hadn’t gone that far in my studies of it yet. I could block memories, put people in a suggestive state, or swap the emotional focus of a memory between subjects. Some were easier than others, depending on complexity, but it wasn’t just about knowing the right pressure points, it was about having the right shampoo or knowing how to make it.

Something about that line of thinking stirred a forgotten memory. Something about Dr. Tofu was connected with the Xi Fa Xiang Gao Shiatsu, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

And, annoyingly, I was no longer as eager to just get Akane out of the way.

She’s hot, don’t judge me.

I returned to the main building, energized, but still lacking that satisfaction that a proper sparring match brought. I began considering the idea for me and Akane to become sparring partners. While I doubted that she could come anywhere close to defeating me anytime soon, and I was forbidden from directly instructing her in Nujiezu techniques by law, I could probably argue that the girl was close enough to being a Nujiezu by the time she improved enough that she became my equal to not have to kill her if she defeated me.

Satisfied with that line of logic, I entered the washitzu at the same time Akane did, dressed for school. Behind her was trailing a grumbling Ranma wearing only a singlet and boxers, and obviously recently awoken. 

They sat down and I took my seat next to Ranma. Before he could react I gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Zao shang hao, wo de Airen,” I greeted him. The greeting I gave Akane was much more reserved. “Ni hao, Akane.”

Ranma tried to shoot to his feet, flustered by what would be considered an appropriate morning greeting for a spouse in Japan, and back home would likely have made the husband wonder if they’d done something wrong. I grabbed his wrist and gave it a tug, prompting him to fall back on his arse.

Akane glared at me while Kasumi remained quiet, which could mean any number of things.

I cuddled up to Ranma and started on my own breakfast. “Airen is going to have to get used to affectionate women,” I said cryptically, giving Genma a sidelong look.

The panda’s eyes widened fractionally, but when he started to scribble on a sign I looked away, ignoring him.

“W-what do you mean?” Ranma asked, clearly a little uncomfortable with how I was leaning against him, but I couldn't help myself. I wanted, no, needed physical contact to avoid feeling anxious.

It was a jarring juxtaposition, having memories of a life where I didn't seem to need or want touch, where I hadn't had any physical intimacy in my entire life, to this life where after the single minded focus of the hunt had dissolved, I became a needy mess.

I sighed then fished out a pickle from my breakfast bowl and put it in Ranma's. “Ask your father when he bothers to show up.” I disliked pickles.

Both Ranma and Soun turned to face the panda, giving him suspicious glares.

Genma held up a fresh sign. [I don't know anything about any other engagements.] It read and I smirked as he flipped it and it read. [I mean, I'm just a cute panda!]

“If the panda says so,” I teased, then turned to Akane to change the subject. “Akane, would you like to do some sparring this afternoon after you return from school?”

Her expression turned to one of surprise. “Really?”

“Wait, hold on,” Ranma tried to interrupt. “You can't be serious!” He gave me a stern look.

Akane scowled at him. “I don't need you butting in, Ranma,” she told him. 

“But what if it is a trick?” he asked, and that was fair. The old me would very well have attempted to get rid of Akane under the guise of training, but I had no such intentions now.

“No trick, I am bored,” I told him honestly.

“And I can handle myself,” Akane said, punching Ranma on the shoulder.

“But Shampoo is better than you!” Ranma shouted and I winced. I could feel Akane's megawatt glare and I wondered idly if Ranma could taste shoe leather right now.

I tuned out their arguing and finished up my breakfast. When they left for school I followed them out the door and predictably, before the door closed, I could hear Soun’s voice. “Saotome, what did you mean by other engagements!?”

I couldn't help the giggle that burst out of me.

Ranma and Akane settled down and walked in annoyed silence for a few minutes until Ranma turned his attention on me. “Are you following us? You know we're going to school, right?”

“I know, and I am not,” I answered. “I am going to Doctor Tofu’s clinic to ask for a job.” Even if I could manipulate the school staff into accepting me as a student, and it probably wouldn't take that much effort, I'd rather go back home and face the music than sit another hour in a western style classroom and feel myself slowly going insane.

“Oh, you know medicine?” Akane asked, sounding genuinely interested.

I nodded. “Herbs, acupuncture, first aid,” I answered. “Some pressure points, chi flow readings.” I shrugged.

“You wouldn't rather go to school?” Akane asked, and I couldn't suppress the shudder this time. 

“Nope nope nope, too-too bad,” I protested. “I would rather learn by doing than sitting in a classroom.”

“At least we agree on something…” Ranma muttered, and I couldn't help the smile and rush of endorphins.

“Thank you, Airen,” I said, taking hold of his arm and rubbing my cheek against his shoulder. Ranma stiffened a bit at the contact and pulled his arm out of my grip. I whined dramatically and tried to grab his arm again, but it was mainly for show. Again, I was trying to make him used to physical contact, not overwhelm him.

Akane glared at my antics then pointed to a building. “Oh, that's Dr Tofu's clinic, guess you have to leave us now, see you later!” Then she grabbed Ranma's other hand and ran off, towing the protesting boy behind her.

I looked at the building and sure enough, it was not Tofu's clinic.

“Hmph…” I pouted in the direction that Akane had vanished and briefly re-examined the idea of wiping her memory of Ranma, then shook my head and headed over to the chiropractor.

~~~

Turns out that Dr Tofu was something called a “Judo Therapist”, which was close to a chiropractor but was its own field with a licensing body and everything. 

I finished the cup of tea I had been offered and put it down on Dr Tofu's desk as I finished listing my qualifications.

“Well, you sound like a capable young woman,” the doctor said, scribbling a few notes on a pad. “Of course, you are a bit young, wouldn't you rather go to school instead?”

I shuddered for the second time this morning at the mention of school. “No. Besides, I do not have…” I fidgeted in my chair and avoided his eyes. “Paperwork.”

“I see,” the man said, then looked at me for a long moment, making me sweat. “Well, there’s a limit to what I can offer you unofficially. But if you’re interested in doing some favors to a patron of the clinic, I’m sure that proper paperwork can be arranged,” he offered, then waited for my response.

It was… surprising to hear the genial Doctor Tofu talking about and suggesting something that was, if not outright illegal, clearly at least riding the line. 

Not that I gave much of a shit. “What kind of favors?” I asked him warily.

Nothing untoward, apparently. Tofu had given me a note with an address and a time to be there so that he could call ahead, then gotten on with the day.

It had been simple, satisfying work. Cleaning floors and sorting supplies for the day until the first patients began rolling in. It had been mostly elderly patients with ailments ranging from the simple to the chronic, but one had stood out. 

It had been a young man coming in with a knife wound that needed the stitches removed. He had an impressive collection of tattoos and when he noticed me studying them had leered at me. I had no interest in him like that, but the design on his back was intricate and I admired the craftsmanship of the waterfall and the leaping koi. Maybe it represented his ambitions?

“If you want, I can give you a private showing, girlie,” he said and reached out to grab my hip.

Before his hand reached me I had a knife in my own hand, its tip resting on the artery in his wrist. “No,” I told him sharply.

He grinned wider and pulled his arm back, holding his hands up in a surrender. “Hey, I can take a hint.”

Tofu did something that made the guy wince when reapplying the bandages around his midsection. “You know the rules in my clinic,” he said genially and the young man shrugged.

“Sure, sorry doc.”

~~~

“Ready?” Akane asked, and at my nod surged forwards with a sharp shout. 

I deflected her strike and returned her attack with one of my own. I wasn't using my full speed or strength, but I had an inkling that she was by the way my hand stung where I had used it to deflect her strike. 

I schooled my breathing and took a stance made for quick precise strikes as I probed her defences. Akane focused almost exclusively on blocking, very rarely deflecting or dodging my strikes, even when I made light attacks that she should definitely be able to avoid.

I backed off to give us both a moment to breathe and reset. “We need to work on your…” I looked for the word I wanted. Finally I settled for the English word. “Telegraphing.” 

Akane seemed to understand what I meant and frowned. “I'm not that bad, am I?”

I nodded, not trying to mock or make fun of her. “You are also slow,” I told her, not sugarcoating it. 

This made the blue haired girl scowl. “I'm not sl-!” she shouted but barely got the word out.

I took a deep breath in and exhaled it, exploding towards her in a burst of speed. I wasn't being fair, but a real fight wasn't designed around being fair. It was kill or be killed. This kind of speed was something I couldn't maintain for more than a moment, but a moment was all I needed. My vision blurred as I felt my eyes deform slightly, and I flipped over Akane before she could react. 

“Dead,” I said ruthlessly as I flicked the back of her head.

Akane seemed to freeze as she processed what had happened, then turned towards me with a furious expression. 

Okay, bring it. I thought idly and took up a new stance, this one copied from a Bruce Lee movie, body angled perpendicular to her, one hand in a fist behind my back and the other beckoning her.

This time her strikes came faster, less predictably, as Akane let her anger take control. She was also sloppy, and didn't guard as well. I answered her charge with precise, but low impact strikes. “Good,” I praised her when she almost got a hit in, then punished her sloppy defence by giving her a bruise on her upper arm.

“You let your feelings control you.” Another bruise on her thigh as she didn't guard herself from a kick. “Anger should be tempered into passion, not rule your actions,” I instructed, the lesson one from my great grandmother. “But when calm you fight as if you were in one of your country's silly martial arts tournaments.” 

Strike, strike, block, evade, bruise.

“I don't need your pity!” Akane growled, and caught a double fisted strike that would have left a nasty bruise on her shoulder if she hadn't defended against it.

My brief elation lasted but a moment as I found myself sailing over Akane's head and slamming into the floor, back first. I moved quickly and before Akane could get me in a lock I coiled my core and struck her in the upper arm with the toes of my foot. I'd aimed for a very precise spot and infused my strike with chi, and it had the intended effect. 

The arm I had struck went limp and with that arm uncooperative Akane's intended hold failed. I squirmed out of her grip like a snake and got to my feet, lightly bouncing from foot to foot.

“Good,” I told her, taking up another stance and waiting, seeing if she was willing to continue.

“Hey now,” Ranma said, getting to his feet from where he was watching. “I think that's enough.”

I pouted at him. A paralyzed limb had never stopped me before when I'd been training back home. And great grandmother’s methods could get downright brutal.

“Stay out of this, Ranma,” Akane told him, taking up an answering pose, her arm hanging limply at her side.

I smiled. The girl's determination was wonderful.

Half an hour later we were both exhausted. I was supporting myself against a pillar and Akane was laying on the floor, groaning dramatically.

“Do you,” I panted as I regained my breath. “yield?”

“Never,” Akane groaned, but made no attempt to get up.

Gods, that determination was kind of hot.

Glancing at Ranma he was blushing and holding a first aid kit behind him. I couldn't help the pang of jealousy. I wanted him to be that worried about me.

“Come on, Akane,” I said, walking over to the girl. “Let's hit the furo and get cleaned up before Kasumi finishes dinner.”

She groaned in protest, but did get to her feet on shaky legs as I pulled her up. I put one of her arms across my shoulders and the other supported her midsection.

When we entered the house after walking across the path from the dojo, Nabiki met us coming the other way. She gave us both a once over then rolled her eyes. “Ugh, there's two of them now.” But she was smiling when she said it so I merely blew her a playful raspberry.

When we turned the corner away from the stairs Akane protested. “Wait… I need some clean clothes.”

I gave a shrug. “Airen can get us something to wear.”

“What?” “Wait, what?” Akane and Ranma said in unison. Both were blushing.

I sighed. “Akane, do you feel like you can take the stairs right now?”

She looked over her shoulder at the stairs, whimpered, then looked at Ranma, who was turning the color of his girl form’s hair.

“Come on,” I teased, bumping our hips together, almost making the girl fall over as her legs nearly failed her. “He's your fiancee and my husband, surely he can find us something cute~”

I looked over my shoulder at Ranma. “Get me my red qipao, Airen,” I said then towed the protesting Akane along towards the furo.

Chapter Text

Akane glared sullenly at me, her head mostly submerged while she sulked. I was keeping an eye on her so that she didn't fall asleep, but a couple of dunks of cold water while washing up seems to have taken care of any grogginess.

I was luxuriating, letting the weariness leave my body through the hot water.

“Why did you do that?” I finally heard Akane ask.

“Do what?” I asked, but I had a pretty good idea of what she meant.

“Why did you ask him to get us a change of clothes? What if he… he…” Her face turned red.

And there it was. “What if he what? Come on, Akane, I am a foreigner and Japanese is my fifth language, you have to spell it out.”

Akane blinked at me in wonder. “Wait, fifth? You know five languages?”

I waggled a hand in a so-so gesture. “Sort of,” I said, counting on my fingers. “Mandarin, English, Swedish, some Cantonese but I cannot read it, and Japanese, and I am working on the letters. Why do you have three separate writing systems anyways?”

Akane stared at me. She would be so pissed if she ever found out that I cheated and just remembered two of those from a past life. Well, somewhat. Past me hadn’t been much of a polyglot, but I’m having a much easier time picking up languages than she had. Probably also helped that I didn’t have chronic depression and dysphoria this time around.

“Anyways,” I prompted. “You were saying something about Airen?”

The other girl shook her head. “Right, what if he sees our… un-underwear?” she finally whispered, looking mortified.

“He is going to have to,” I mused. “My red qipao is very short, I will give everyone a show at the table. Probably give Kasumi a heart attack.”

“Shampoo!” Akane shouted, scandalized.

I couldn't help it, I started to giggle, then laugh. A nice big belly laugh that had my tits bouncing and sending waves sloshing through the heated tub. Akane's expression softened, then she began chuckling along with me.

Gods, I loved being a woman. I had sixteen years of memories that told me it was perfectly normal, and more than twenty-five that saw it as the greatest gift I could possibly receive. I was feeling happy and alive and for a moment all of my problems felt insignificant.

I wiped the tears from my eyes and shook my head. “No-no, I am not going to eat dinner with no panties, but honestly Akane, why is it such a big deal if he grabs some clothes for us?”

Akane frowned. “I don't want him to be a weirdo about my underwear drawer.”

That felt just a little bit off to me. It wasn't as if Ranma was anything like Happosai, after all.

Damn, speaking of the little pervert, maybe I should drop a hint about that to the fathers? Happosai would be a headache and a half to deal with, as relatively harmless as he ended up being from what I could remember, he would still be very unpleasant.

Bringing my attention back to the present, I sighed. “Honestly, Akane, Ranma can barely handle physical affection, why do you think he would be weird about our clothing? I know I asked him, but I rather think he w-” 

I was interrupted by a knock on the door separating the inner and outer bathrooms. “Akane? Shampoo? I brought you both a change of clothes.”

I silently waved at the door in a “see” gesture. 

Akane looked surprised, then contrite. “Ah, thank you big sister.”

“Thank you miss Kasumi.”

~~~

After dinner Ranma dragged me away from the others and I couldn't help the hop, skip, and jump my heart did as he held me by the wrist. Part of me was worried about the talk we were about to have, no doubt about how I treated Akane during our training session, but other parts of me were melting into a gooey mess at the firm ironclad grip he had on me.

When we arrived behind the Dojo, he turned me around and put his hand on the Dojo wall behind me. He no doubt thought it would make him look intimidating and make me take him seriously, but I was too busy trying not to melt into my panties to see Ranma as anything but supremely sexy. 

“Look, Shampoo,” he began. “You can't treat Akane that way.” 

Having her mentioned did dampen the fire inside me a little, but not much. “Treat her in what way?” I asked, unable to hide the huskiness in my voice.

“Like a punching bag,” Ranma growled.

“She is pretty far from a punching bag,” I purred. “Have you seen her muscles?”

“Dammit, Shampoo,” Ranma snarled and thumped his hand on the wall, pulling my attention away from Ranma and Akane’s muscles. “You have to take this seriously.”

I scowled and grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him closer. “I am taking this seriously. I treated Akane with respect,” I growled back at Ranma. “Like a warrior in training.”

“That wasn't training!” he protested, gripping my wrist and making me let go of his shirt. “You were way too rough with her.”

“I was holding back,” I snarled. “But I was not coddling her.” Ranma blanched and I lowered the intensity of my voice. “I am being much gentler than my own teacher would have been. Or your father.”

Something like defeat made Ranma's shoulders slump and he let go of my arm. I smiled and smoothed out his shirt. “You care about her,” I said, admitting that out loud stung. “I do as well. She is strong, passionate, beautiful.” Ranma's cheeks flushed red. 

“Do not worry, I will not break her,” I told him, then moved my hands to his collar and pulled him down for a quick kiss. It has the secondary intended effect of making Ranma back off and give me space to make my getaway.

“But consider giving your wife the same consideration you give your fiance, hmm?” I teased before skipping away back towards the house. Leaving the boy to wonder.

~~~

“Take off your clothes.”

“W-what?”

“And lie down.”

“Sh-shampoo, I'm not sure if-”

“I promise, it is for your own good.”

“I'm fine, you don't have to… oh… oooooh…”

“See, you need this.”

“I- Okay.”

“Now take it off and lie down.”

“Oooooh…”

“Relaxing, is it not?”

“Mnnngh, yeeeah…”

“So tense… When was the last time?”

“Too long… hnngh, right there.”

The door to Akane’s bedroom was flung open and Soun stood there full of righteous indignation. “What are you doing to my daught-ow!” He was cut off as I nailed him in the forehead with the plastic bottle of massage oil.

“Daad!” Akane exclaimed beneath me, her upper body bare as I had been massaging her back, trying to work out her sore muscles after today's training exercise. “Get out of my room!” Her bedside lamp followed and nailed Gemma right in his snout as he was trying to peek around the frame.

After some more improvised missiles from the both of us the door slammed shut amid repeated apologies. I thought I caught a glimpse of a familiar black head of hair and blushing face before the door shut, and I hoped that he in particular got a good look.

“Honestly,” Akane sighed and let her face fall back to the pillow she had been using to support her head. “Can't have any privacy in this house…” 

I giggled and returned to my work, happy for a source of skinship with someone after many weeks of abstinence. Akane groaned as I worked out the knots in her muscles. “Mnnngh, how are you so good at this?” 

“Lots and lots of practice,” I replied. “Girls in my tribe learn to fight early, and with that comes learning to recover from exercise and training. Hot bath is good, but it is not enough sometimes. Massage also builds trust and companionship.”

“I would think that you’d try to get rid of me, not become my friend and sparring partner,” Kane admitted.

My hands stopped for a moment as I considered how to answer her. I had considered it, and it would be the simplest and fastest way according to what I had been taught, but my memories of a past life made me doubt a lot of things. I still wanted to return home, at some point, but in order to do that I needed to be able to prove to my great grandmother or the other elders that Ranma and I were an item. 

Letting go of Nujiezu would be difficult. I had a life there, friends, siblings, family, and a cultural history that stretched back thousands of years. I couldn't lose that. Not again.

“I thought about it,” I admitted, resuming my work on a particularly stubborn knot in Akane's back. “But it would not be worth it.”

Akane tensed up beneath me and I growled. I didn’t want my hard work to come undone. “Relax,” I told her. “I said it would not be worth it,” I repeated.

“So… why are you still here?” Akane asked, and I thought I heard genuine interest in her voice. I couldn’t see her face, but at the same time she couldn’t see my expression either.

So I told her what I told Ranma yesterday. “Because I can’t go back home empty handed. If I do, or if I just stay… I won’t be… I won’t be Nujiezu anymore.”

Akane shifted underneath me and suddenly I was embraced in a tight hug while sitting in her lap. It was nice, so I returned the hug for a while until Akane relaxed and we separated.

After she put on her pyjama top we both sat awkwardly on the bed for a while until Akane spoke. “So do you… like Ranma?” The tone she was using made me remember something. Akane had a crush at the start of the manga, on Dr. Tofu no less, but he was hopelessly infatuated with Akane's older sister. Did that mean she saw a bit of herself in me?

I laid down on her comforter and stared at the ceiling. I considered my answer for a while. “I do,” I answered. “Very much.”

“Why?” Akane asked. “You don't really know Ranma. All you have are-” 

I swear, if she was going to belittle my village traditions as ‘some silly laws’ I was going to thump her on the head, and then her choler would be up and we’d get no talking done.

“Three thousand years of traditions and tales of mighty warriors coming together on the battlefield to test each other's strength and falling in love,” I corrected her before she could get further. “And while I do not know Airen well, I do know that he is strong, capable, handsome, determined, confident, and… a little silly.” I smiled at the little flush I saw in Akane's cheeks. “And he is not the only one like that here,” I finished, meeting Akane's eyes.

Her eyes were uncomprehending as she stared at me, then she blushed and seemed to figure something out. “Oooh!” she said, covering her mouth and looking away. Well, I wasn't going to pressure her into something she might not be ready for, I didn't even really know if Akane was into girls at all yet, but her reaction gave me just a little hope that she understood that I liked her.

We spent a couple more minutes chatting, ending up in a debate about the earlier training session and discussing our respective philosophies on the topic, and while I could concede that focusing on strength and durability, I maintained that a certain level of speed was required regardless. If you couldn't hit someone, strength mattered not. If you left vulnerable points open, it didn't matter how tough the rest of you were, you crumbled regardless. 

I think I managed to get Akane to concede that she needed to work on her speed a lot more.

Finally we were both yawning and decided to go to bed.

~~~

I was thankfully spared a repeat of dying in a car crash while dreaming this time, but I did have a very chaotic dream where I spent most of it having a screaming match with myself. 

In this dream I seemed to have the point of view of my normal sixteen year old self while trying to argue that I should go home. Meanwhile an older, thirty something, Shan Pu dressed in cargo pants and wearing a band t-shirt not so patiently called me a dumb kid and shouted back at me that I needed to sort out the relationship between myself, Ranma, and Akane before even thinking of returning to China.

Don't you love when you argue with yourself and lose?

That dream made me ponder the existential question: Was I reborn as Shampoo and remembered a past life, or had I had those memories injected into my mind as a result of the head trauma after being knocked out by a ten kilogram ball of forged iron?

Hell, for all I knew the head trauma might have caused me to make all this shit up, although that felt very unlikely. You don’t make up two languages as well as predict the future as a trauma response… probably?

All these questions meant that I felt rather subdued at breakfast and, rather than following Ranma and Akane to school, I decided to take my mind off of things. I didn't have anything to do until midday when I needed to go to work at Dr. Tofu's, so I decided to do some exploring around Nerima instead.

There was a strong culture of martial arts and a lot of Animation Studios around once I left Furinkan and entered Nerima Center proper, as well as arcades and electronic shops, often cozy little holes in the walls where you barely had room to turn around, so I had plenty of sight seeing to do.

Experiencing Japan in the early nineties while simultaneously having memories of growing up in the late eighties and also the late nineties to early aughts was strange. CD players were a new technology but cassettes weren't in proper decline yet, so there was a profusion of both available in music shops, as well as some LPs hiding in the corners, still with the shrink wrap on them.

Computers were also giving me whiplash, I saw advertisements for beige boxes that had gone out of style long ago according to my memories but were considered high tech now, as well as advertisements of the recently released Super Famicom and Game Boy systems. Consoles that to me felt ancient and retro. Gods, I was going to have to try and get hold of both once I get some spending money.

I settled for spending some time at one of the arcades. It was mostly empty, a couple of young adults and some kids my age who were skipping school, most likely nowhere near the amount of people that would show up once school let out.

After exchanging some bills for coins at the desk I settled down at a fairly new Street Fighter II machine. I had never been a fighting game aficionado before, preferring city builders and roleplaying games, but until I could get hold of a computer of my own and install Sim City on it I had to settle for arcade games.

I spent some time trying to beat up the computer and mostly getting my ass handed to me, slowly figuring out the game's combos and, maybe predictably, settling for the Chinese character Chun Li as my main.

After a while I felt an audience forming. Four- no, five guys, a year or two older than me. They were chatting to themselves, probably thinking that they couldn't be heard in the auditory mess of the arcade, discussing my legs and my style of dress.

It felt good to be appreciated, but when they started to talk about how I probably would put out because I was a “gaijin slut” I felt the steel arcade stick bend slightly in my grip.

Deep breath in. 

They were just stupid macho assholes, no reason to start a scene. I had memories of being a stupid boy who didn't know his arse from his mouth once, so I focused on practicing my Soul of Ice and ignoring the offensive males.

Deep breath out.

A wisp of frosty condensed moisture left through my nostrils as a side effect of the Soul of Ice and I focused on my game.

I had managed to last three rounds against Ryu when one of the guys leaned against the side of the Street Fighter cabinet.

“Hey,” he said in a way that he probably thought sounded cool.

“Ni hao,” I answered coldly, not interested in small talk while trying to focus on the game.

“So, Chinese, huh?”

I rolled my eyes but maintained my Soul of Ice and focused on the game. Unfortunately that meant that my mouth was left to run itself. “Did the qipao give me away?” I snarked.

“Hey, chill, girl. I was just curious. Not every day we get a babe like you in a place like this.”

“I am sure,” I quipped, then cursed as I failed to complete a combo I was trying to get right.

I continued playing, diverting or straight up rebuffing the guy's pickup attempts, until I finally lost the fight and went to put in another coin.

“Hey, I can give you some advice if you'd like?” he offered, seemingly genuine, but I had had enough.

“I am sure you can,” I told him, looking him in the eyes for the first time. Whatever he saw in my glare made him flinch. “But I just want to be left alone. Go away.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said hurriedly, holding his hands up and walking away.

I started the next game against the same opponent while keeping an ear open.

The first guy was getting trash talked for crashing and eating shit while trying to pick me up and predictably some other guy was going to try.

“Don't,” the first guy said. “You don't wanna fuck with her, let's go somewhere else.”

“Fuck’s the half-pint gonna do?” the other guy asked, his slang so thick I could barely figure out what he said.

“My cousin is a martial artist, they get this look in their eyes when you piss them off. Don't mess with her, she's not worth it.”

Wise words, if only his friend would listen to him. Instead he snorted, blew off the warning, and walked up behind me.

“Hey, babe,” he said from just behind me, and I felt my control of the Soul of Ice slip. “You're gettin’ there, but to get that combo down you gotta-”

He wrapped his arms around me, moving up behind so that he could place his hands over mine while shoving his crotch up against my ass.

The steel arcade stick snapped off in my hand.

I left the four idiots to try and extricate their friend’s upper body from the arcade machine and headed over to the front desk. He was lucky I decided to shove his head there instead of somewhere anatomically improbable instead.

I dropped the broken off stick on the counter and smiled cutely at the clerk. “It must have been broken,” I said.

He picked up the broken arcade stick, took one look at the very visible indents of my fingers in the chromed steel and nodded. “It's fine, don't worry about it,” he told me, a drop of sweat running down his forehead.

“Thanks!” With that I sauntered gaily out of the arcade. I should try and bring Ranma or Akane with me to the arcade next time.

~~~

Nothing much interesting happened when I arrived at Tofu's clinic, except for later in the day when a certain giant panda arrived with a bag of groceries for the clinic and Dr. Tofu introduced the panda as “Mr. Saotome.” while he relayed to him that I was the new apprentice nurse.

“Yes, we've met,” I said sweetly, ecstatic for the opportunity to grill Ranma on why exactly girl type Ranma's pet panda was named “Mr. Saotome.” Hopefully the charade could fall apart and we could get that mess behind us.

When returning to the Tendo household and joining Akane in the Dojo I was met by a slightly pensive Akane Tendo.

“Problem?” I asked.

Akane rubbed her upper arm and tried not to wince. “Nope, I'm ready for another sparring match,” she said, getting in a stance.

Okay, maybe I should take it a little easy on her. “If you are willing to listen to a suggestion…?” I trailed off, waiting for her input. When the blue haired girl nodded I continued.

“You have a lot of physical strength, Akane, and you are talented,” I held up both hands placatingly in advance. “But, and please hear me out, your movements are too slow.”

I waited to see her expression and after going through several different stages of denial, she finally settled on frustrated defiance. “So!?” she asked heatedly.

“So, we work on that,” I offered. “Strength and toughness are good to have, but can only take you so far in isolation. Remember when I nerve-locked your arm yesterday?”

This time Akane did visibly flinch. “Yes, that was unpleasant.”

I nodded. I knew from personal experience exactly how unpleasant it was to have your arms paralyzed in a fight. “Imagine both arms and legs paralyzed,” I told her. “Very unpleasant. And that was in training, imagine a real fight,” I suggested and Akane's face turned white.

I waved the matter off, I was not going to train Akane like Ku Lon had trained me and my little sisters. It wasn't as if I didn't have the stomach for it. If Akane for some reason needed to learn in a flaming hurry I would take the kid gloves off, but right now I wanted Akane to like and trust me, as well as become a more skilled fighter.

“Okay, fine,” Akane relented. It has cost her something to make that concession, I just hoped I hadn't pushed her too fast. “So what do you suggest?”

“Today?” I said, bouncing on the balls of my feet. “Yoga and Tai Chi!”

Chapter Text

Akane was once more prone on the floor, although this time on her back. “My whole everything hurts! …why? We didn't even punch each other today!” she complained.

I giggled to myself. “You use many muscles that you never use when lifting weights,” I told her, busy as I was with balancing my jian on the tip of my foot while doing a vertical split. 

I had to admit to myself that I was pretty blatantly showing off, both to Akane and to Ranma, who was doing katas while pretending that he wasn't watching over Akane.

Balancing the sword on its pommel with my foot like this was something I got in the habit of as a preteen, encouraged by other women and girls I trained with. Showing off and being competitive without being petty about it was encouraged in Nujiezu, it made sure we kept our skills sharp.

When I was sure I had Akane’s attention I flicked my ankle and sent the sword spinning into the air, after which I lifted my arm and let the sword’s sheath peek out from the space where I kept it. The tip of the jian entered the sheath, after which it slid neatly into my pocket space and vanished like magic into my sleeve.

Akane sat bolt upright and stared open-mouthed at me. “That was… how did you do that!?” she demanded.

“Sorry, cannot tell you,” I said cheekily, then relented a little at Akane's expression. “I am not being mean,” Well, okay, I was a little mean. Purposely baiting the girl and Ranma with a foreign techniques only to lay out conditions wasn't very nice of me. “I am not allowed to teach Nujiezu secrets to outsiders, except…” I gave Ranma a pointed look. “A spouse.”

I had Ranma's full attention now, while Akane pouted and gathered fistfulls of gi in her hands, outraged. “That's not fair, also what did we do just now and yesterday!?”

Holding up a finger I clarified. “Yoga and Tai Chi are not Nujiezu. I did not teach you any of the similar forms to Tai Chi we developed alongside it in our tribe. And I am allowed to use Nujiezu techniques on outsiders, but I am not allowed to teach them.”

“How… uhm,” Ranma sauntered over and sat down, seeming to show actual interest. “How much stuff can you keep in there?” he asked, gesturing at my sleeve.

The small amount of stuff I was carrying wasn't actually being kept inside my sleeves, but for some reason that nobody in our village could figure out the technique wouldn't work if someone tried to observe the object exit the pocket space that the chi technique created. One girl that had been studying physics at Beijing University thought it had something to do with quantum and observing the waveform or something, I wasn't big enough on physics in either life to understand so I had tuned most of the attempted explanation out. Suffice to say, the hidden weapons technique only cooperated if nobody was looking at wherever you pulled your weapon or item from, which naturally led to most people choosing the sleeve as the place to insert or extract items from.

I counted on my fingers. “My jian, a dozen throwing daggers, wallet, first aid kit. Oh, and water bottle and chocolate bar. It is always useful to have chocolate for that time.”

Akane nodded and Ranma looked perplexed. “What time?” he asked.

“My period,” I clarified.

“Oh…” Ranma winced and unconsciously held his hand against his lower abdomen in a very familiar gesture that I couldn't mistake for anything else. D-did Ranma have periods in his girl form? I decided to shelve that line of inquiry for the time being as I had a bigger panda to fry.

“Airen,” I asked, giving him a serious look. “Doctor Tofu called girl-type Ranma's pet panda “Mr. Saotome” earlier. How come?”

“Ah-hahaha!” Ranma choked and began laughing nervously, rubbing the back of his neck while avoiding my eyes. “I have no idea what you are talking about, Shampoo!”

“Really?” I asked, leaning over Ranma, getting into his space. Come on, just fess up! I shouted silently at him. If we could just get this out of the way then I had one less thing to worry about keeping secret.

“Yeah, no idea!” Ranma was visibly sweating now.

“Shampoo,” I heard Akane call my name behind me.

“Yeah?” I asked, turning to look at her. I felt Ranma move away the moment I took my eyes off him and before I could grab the boy by the pigtail he was gone from the dojo. “Förbannat!” I swore and stomped my foot. I could have chased after him, but that felt like going too far.

I turned my scowl towards Akane and had to take a deep breath at the anxious look on the short haired girl as she worried at the edge of her gi. It wasn’t her fault, she thought that I still had beef with Ranma’s girl form and wasn’t aware that I already knew all about the curse. “Yes?” I asked tiredly, trying not to let the annoyance I felt show without having to dip into the Soul of Ice.

Akane shifted uncomfortably for a few moments then asked me. “Is… Is it really that important that you kill the girl Ranma?”

Well, it would have been, if it wasn’t for the fact that Ranma was born a boy, and as such my tribe's laws considered him my husband. As much as the idea that Ranma might be a transgender girl made me squirm uncomfortably, I had to admit that I hadn’t considered such things before and as such had a near zero awareness of LGBT issues in my tribe.

“She humiliated me in front of my entire tribe, Akane, during a challenge for my position of champion,” I sighed, sitting down on the floor of the dojo to show I wasn’t going to go running off half-cocked hunting for girl-type Ranma.

“Yeah, but… killing her?” Akane pushed.

“Okay, fine, I think it is stupid as well, alright!” I repeated my sentiment from the first evening when I gained these memories when I told Ranma much the same thing. “But remember, if I do not solve this somehow I cannot go back home!”

“Oh, right,” Akane worried at her lip, visibly trying to come up with something, so I did the same.

I just had to come up with some excuse for why I thought that girl Ranma and boy Ranma were connected. Something that would make them relax enough to either tell me or relax enough so that I can pretend to accidentally spill water on them. Oh!

I slammed my fist in my palm. “That is it!” I exclaimed, making Akane jump and squeak in surprise. 

“What? What’s what?”

“The reason Airen is so protective of girl-type Ranma!” I announced triumphantly, pointing at Akane. “She is Airen’s sister!”

Predictably enough, Akane face faulted to the dojo floor at my (intentional) misunderstanding of the situation.

“It makes sense!” shouted, playing the fake excitement to the hilt. “She has the same haircut, they fight with the same style, and they share the same clothes! Just like my twin sisters.” I was probably overdoing it a little, but if I could convince them that I thought girl Ranma was boy Ranma’s sister or something, I could convince them that their blood connection meant I couldn’t harm her while he was my husband!

It solved everything!

“I'm gonna go and find Airen and ask him!” I said excitedly and left for the dojo door.

“Shampoo, no…” Akane tried to stop me but I wasn't having it.

“Shan Pu, yes!” I stated confidently.

Of course, the moment I was out of view I hid, then waited for Akane to exit the dojo looking for me. The short haired girl swore under her breath and muttered about finding Ranma, then set off. I followed her, stealth honed through nearly a decade of playing pranks on my younger sisters and friends, tracking fellow students during lessons, and hunting game out in the wild.

It took Akane less than five minutes to find Ranma (granted, he hadn't gone far once he realized I wasn't following him), and I settled down to overhear their conversation.

After telling Ranma about the conclusion that I had come to, Akane asked him tentatively; “Why don't we just tell her the truth?”

Ranma squirmed in his seat and shook his head. “No way! What if she decides to try and kill me again? There's no way I'm gonna marry anyone, not to mention follow them to some village in China, so what if she decides that taking my head is easier?”

Ouch, harsh, but not an unreasonable conclusion to arrive at. I thought. After all, the old version of me would have tried all sorts of things, up to and including love spells and trying to kill Akane to get Ranma to marry her. Granted, our village did consider the Kiss to be binding, but it wasn't exactly recognized in a foreign court of law. Or a Chinese one for that matter.

“Alright, so, what are you gonna do then?” Akane asked, crossing her arms and leaving the ball in Ranma’s court.

Ranma sat there, thinking. And bless him I could almost hear the little hamster running in its wheel. 

“Got it!” he exclaimed, in a mirror pose of the one I had done mere minutes earlier. “I'll try to pretend to be my sister and see if I can get her to back off!”

Akane gave the boy a sceptical raised eyebrow. “Really? That's your plan?”

“Like to hear you come up with something better, tomboy,” Ranma bristled, to predictable results.

“Fine,” Akane snapped. “Make a fool of yourself instead of just telling Shampoo the truth, see if I care!”

I was holding my gut and trying not to let my giggles be overheard. Besides being great theatre, so far this was working out in my favor. Now I just needed to figure out a way to clue the fathers in on Happosai’s eventual return and I could keep the rest of my knowledge secret.

Jingle~

I froze in place. Sometime during my giggle fit I had forgotten to keep still and one of my hair ornaments had rolled off the windowsill and jingled as my bangs snapped the bells to a stop.

Turning my attention back to the room I could see Ranma standing stock still inside, shaking slightly and breathing a little too quickly to be calm.

Fuck… I had completely forgotten about the fucking Cat Fist! I was going to have to get rid of these ornaments and hide them in the bottom of my backpack or something. Annoying, especially as they had been a gift from my father.

Before his panic attack could settle enough for Ranma to look around and find me, I scampered, scurrying around to Akane's room to fetch a change of clothing so that I could pretend that I had been spending my time in the furo.

~~~

“I like your hair,” Akane said while we sat studying after dinner. She was doing math while I was practicing writing simplified Japanese.

“Thank you,” I replied, feeling my cheeks warm at the praise. I had put away the bell ornaments and had instead put my hair up in a bun with some special hair sticks. 

Akane studied me for a moment and finally, when I was about to ask what was up she inquired: “About that shampoo… would it be alright if I asked you to make me some?”

For a moment I didn't remember what she was talking about but then I caught Akane fiddling with a lock of her hair and it clicked. “Oooooh…” I had to think about it. “What color?” I asked. It probably wouldn't be considered a faux pas to give her some as a gift, especially if I was trying to make friends with my husband's… well, other wife, I suppose.

“Blue, like this,” she said, floofing her hair a bit. “I dye mine, but it's hell to keep up with the roots.”

I looked at Akane like I had never seen her before. I don't know why the idea that she dyed her hair hadn't occurred to me, but it should have. Ranma's girl form's hair was an unnaturally vibrant red, several women in my tribe had odd or unique hair colors, and while my natural color is black, both of my sisters' hair is a light pink which Ling started to change to a light blue to set her apart from her sister Long.

“O-oh, yes!” I said hastily as Akane began giving me an odd look. “I can do that!”

And come to think of it, my own stock was running low and I would need to whip up another batch if I was going to stay here for much longer. I rubbed my chin in thought, something that I realized hadn't been a habit before the knock on my head.

I will need to get some ingredients, thankfully none of them were prohibitively expensive or illegal here in Japan, but if I couldn't find them in some of the Chinese herbal shops I would have to send a letter for some from back home.

“I hope Kasumi will let me use her kitchen…” I muttered.

“Oooh, can I help?” Akane asked, eyes bright. “Kasumi never lets me help in the kitchen anymore.”

Suddenly warning bells began ringing loudly in my brain. Akane in the kitchen was setting off my danger sense and I hesitated. “It is okay…” I said, scrambling for an excuse. “It is advanced stuff, and I want to get it right. Hate to have your hair grow in acid green because you were not familiar with the process.”

“I guess…” Akane pouted.

I now had to figure out some way to- “Hey, have you been to any of the arcades in downtown Nerima?” I asked, trying to shift Akane's attention to a new topic.

“Huh? No, I haven't,” she replied, glancing towards the Game Boy that was sitting on her bedside table.

With a little more back and forth on the topic we decided to make a day of it an upcoming weekend. That also gave me the time to try and talk Ranma into joining us.

~~~

I compared the address on the paper Dr. Tofu had given me to the street map and the building I was standing in front of. It was the right place, but I wondered why he sent me here? It didn't look like a government building, but rather like the estate of a wealthy family.

Knocking at the front gate answered a lot of my questions as a mountain of a man in an ill fitting suit opened it. He was wearing sunglasses despite the overcast day and had a scar running down his cheek, as well as several tattoos visible on his neck and hands.

Yakuza.

The man glared at me from behind his sunglasses until it was clear that he wasn't going to speak first. “Doctor Tofu sent me, my name is Shan Pu,” I introduced myself.

He grunted and checked a little black book he pulled out from a pocket. Seemingly satisfied he put it away and gestured for me to follow. “Follow me,” he grunted eloquently, not looking to see if I was following.

I was probably expected to be all nervous and shaking in my qipao, but as I followed the man I relaxed instead. The Yakuza thug wasn't a trained martial artist, not to my caliber, and probably not to Akane's either. He looked like he was used to letting his muscles and size work for him. Maybe he knew some judo or boxing, but I felt confident that I could take on ten of him without getting my hair mussed.

“In here,” my guide said, opening a door to a simple room with a long, low table.

At the end sat a man in his late middle age, maybe a decade older than my father, Fa Mu, and the same age as my father in the life I left behind after the car accident.

“Welcome, girl,” he greeted me casually. “Sit, sit. Sake?” he offered both a seat and a cup that reeked of alcohol.

I sat. “I am sixteen,” I told him, eyeing him warily. Recent memories from leaving my village and spending weeks in Japan had given me a low opinion of these Japanese men when it came to the age of girls they wanted to sleep with, and I'd sooner castrate this man with my jian than sleep with him.

“Relax, girl,” he told me jovially, knocking back his own cup. "It's customary to share a drink before talking about work,” he told me. “Ono told me what you needed and I think you can help me with some of my own problems.”

I scowled at the little cup of sake, then tipped it back and swallowed the contents as fast as possible, suppressing the shudder that tried to take over. I hated the taste of alcohol.

“Excellent!” the man said when I put the empty cup down on the table. “My name is Oozora Ibari of the Oozora Group,” he introduced himself.

“And I am Shan Pu of Nujiezu,” I answered.

“Nujiezu?” Ibari scratched his chin in thought. “I haven't heard of them, what does that name mean?”

“The Village of Nujiezu roughly translates to ‘The Village of Women Heroes,” I answered Ibari, but my attention had been caught by the man trying to sneak up on me. He was about as subtle as a bull elephant, and his cheap suit was making a gods awful racket as the cheap fabric rubbed against itself.

“Just what I needed,” Oobari said, then glanced behind me and nodded.

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes at the unsubtle display, and instead focused on evading the hands of the man behind me. It had been a really amateurish ambush and I leapt straight up, flipped before kicking off a roof beam, and driving the heel of my foot into my ambusher. Luckily for his nose, his face was driven into the cushion I had been sitting on instead of the floor.

I reached up to my hair, pulled on the two sticks I had used to secure it into a bun and drew two slim knives from their sheaths just as a group of seven men charged into the room, yelling. 

I flipped the knives into reverse grips and slipped inside the first man’s guard, hitting the nerve cluster on his upper arm with the knuckle of my middle finger, making that limb useless, then I struck the nerve cluster on his other arm as he tried to swing at me again. With both arms falling limply to his sides, and before he could process the fact, I slipped behind him, drove one foot behind his right knee and roundhouse kicked him in the upper back sending him sprawling. 

Thug three and four came at me as a pair with a fifth man right behind them, they tried to get me from two angles but I made a flying leap for number five while doing a split kick in the air, kicking the wonder twins in their heads on my way past. 

I landed with my thighs around the neck of the fifth man. I didn't give him any time to appreciate that fact as I gripped a beam in the ceiling and used my entire body to fling the Yakuza thug through a thin nearby wall and out into the garden.

I landed on the floor in a crouch and saw one of the men pull a knife of his own. Stupid move. I threw both of mine in his direction and before he could process the fact I hadn't thrown them at him specifically, my foot was already connecting with his jaw and sending him sprawling. 

The kid behind him dropped the baseball bat he'd held and raised his hands in surrender. My knives had split the wood of the bat into three pieces and rendered the weapon pretty useless.

I smirked. “Smart.” Then I felt two hands grip me tightly by my upper arms.

“I got the Chinese minx!” a man behind me yelled as he lifted me into the air. Which was a stupid waste of time as I simply pulled up my leg, twisted, and did something extremely painful to his nether regions.

As I was preparing for the next challenger, loud clapping rang out through the room and all the yakuza thugs relaxed, some of them into groaning heaps and others tried to help their comrades out of the room. The guy I kicked in the crotch needed two people to help him out.

“Bravo, bravo!” Ibari cheered, clapping. “Passed with flying colors.” 

A test? The urge to punch the man in the face was overwhelming but I managed to suppress the impulse and by the time I had collected my knives and put them back in their sheaths in my hair I could smile at the yakuza boss without it looking forced. Surprise attacks and impromptu sparring matches were common greetings between Nujiezu, but eight on one was pushing the limits of friendly greeting.

Still, it did feel good to get some of my recent frustrations out. Hunting Ranma for weeks on end only to get clocked by them again had left me rather pent up.

“So, what was that for?” I asked Mr Ibari, bouncing on the balls of my feet to get some of the excess energy out.

Oozora Ibari sat back down, refilling the two cups and gesturing for me to sit again. “I've been looking for someone like you to help with my daughters’ safety,” he explained after I sat down. “Kids today. When I was a lad it was the height of prestige to have your own personal muscle, but my daughters disagree, especially Tsubame. It breaks my heart to hear her complain about her bodyguards when she goes to the mall with her friends.”

I wasn't sure about this. I was hardly looking to have another job as a nanny to some spoiled brats.

“So I've been looking around for someone their age who could accompany my daughters on occasion and look after their safety. In return I'll make sure you get yourself an ID and official papers,” Ibari continued.

“I dunno,” I hesitated. It seemed like a lot of work when I would rather spend the effort on manipulating an immigration official instead. A little careful preparation meant I could use the Xi Fa Xiang Gao to first make them obey me, then wipe the event from their memory.

“As well as an expense account,” Ibari finished, holding out the cup for a toast and smiling.

“Deal,” I answered, picking up my own cup and tapping it against his. 

This time I could not keep my reaction down and I coughed violently.

Chapter Text

By the time I got back to the Tendo house those two shots of sake Oozora had given me had made themselves very well known and cozy with my brain stem. I've never had alcohol in this life before and I was, for lack of a better word, tiny, so I was feeling just a little bit tipsy.

When I entered I barely gave anyone any warning as I sat down behind Akane and hugged her from behind. Wife… my brain thought fuzzily as my hands gripped her belly.

“Sh-shampoo!?” Akane squawked in confusion. “What are you doing!?”

“You're warm,” I mumbled. “And I want cuddles.”

Over by the shogi table the game had come to a screeching halt. Honestly, if Genma wanted me to believe he was a real panda he shouldn't be playing fucking boardgames while in his cursed form.

Kasumi's knitting had stopped as well and I could see one of her eyes twitching. That was probably a bad sign but I was far beyond caring at this point as I rubbed my cheek against the back of Akane's head.

Ranma's voice came from the engawa as he walked in on the scene. “Kasumi, have you seen my blue silk shiiiiiirt…” he trailed off at the sight of me and Akane, a blush coloring his cheeks.

Boywife! I made grabby hands in his direction, arms still around Akane's midsection. “Airen, cuddles!”

Ranma made warding signs with his hands. “I-I-” he tried to protest but he didn't get the opportunity to flee as Soun gave him a swift kick in the backside in our direction.

“Go on and take some initiative, son.”

Before I could grab my husband for a tree way struggle snuggle I felt long-nailed fingers grab me by the ear and drag me away. “Aj aj aj! Helvette!” I swore as I stumbled to my feet and followed, at risk of having my ear wrenched from my skull if I didn't.

I saw Ranma stumble into and over Akane. He must have upset a glass of water or something as the last thing I saw before being hauled around the corner was a shock of red hair. I swore again, because I had just lost a perfect opportunity to “accidentally” discover Ranma had a girl form.

“Language,” Kasumi hissed at me. The idea that she knew how to understand Swedish swearwords sidelined me for long enough that she could haul me into the kitchen. Too late I realized that she probably just guessed by the tone I was using.

“Shampoo,” Kasumi said sternly, glaring at me. “Have you been drinking?”

I looked away from her accusing eyes and wondered where this side of Kasumi had been in the Manga. “Little bit,” I confessed, holding up my fingers with a little gap between them.

“A little?” Kasumi probed.

“Two cups,” I admitted. Gods, she was worse than great-grandmother.

“And who would be so irresponsible as to give a teenager alcohol?” she asked. 

“Uhm,” I stalled, trying to figure out if I should tell the truth or lie. My brain wasn't much help, so I opted for the truth. “The Yakuza?” I admitted truthfully with a shrug.

There was a clatter from the doorway as Nabiki, who had been eavesdropping, stumbled and fell into view. “Holy shit!” the middle Tendo sister exclaimed. “You know Yakuza?” she asked but faltered as she met her older sister's furious expression and pointed finger, ordering Nabiki to scram.

She scram, scrambled, skedaddled, even. Although something told me that she'd be back to try and squeeze me for more info later.

~~~

After the dressing down Kasumi gave me about propriety and her lecture about how a young lady should conduct herself I decided to go and bathe and clear my head. Honestly, I never thought of the wallflower Kasumi from the Manga as a hardass, but apparently she had more steel in her spine than the Manga felt like showing. She might not be a warrior but my respect for her had ticked up a couple of notches.

I opened the door to the outer bath to a delightful sight. Ranma stood there, in her female form, white undershirt around her neck mid strip and her boxers around her ankles. She looked like a forest spirit, hair the bright red of autumn leaves and toned athletic body on naked display.

“Stupid meddling old men-” she muttered then froze as she saw me. “Sh-shampoo!”

I growled deep in my throat and slammed the door behind me, then moved in a blur towards the cursed girl. I had taken Ranma truly unaware and managed to drive her to the floor, hand holding her wrists which were tangled in her undershirt while I straddled her waist and held one of my knives from my bun to her throat.

“Wait, wait, wait,” she repeated frantically, then looked amazed as I seemed to obey her for the first time since she defeated me on the challenge log.

I kept holding the edge of the knife against her throat but raised an eyebrow. It wasn't hard to fake anger and disdain, even though I knew she was the same Ranma that I had come to love, the sight of the girl's face had left enough sour memories in my mind to make acting cold towards her trivial. “Yes?” I asked.

“Please, just, can we talk about this, Shampoo?” Ranma begged, trying to worm her wrists free. 

I hardened my grip and squeezed tighter with my legs, not allowing the girl beneath me any movement. “So talk,” I snapped, begging internally that Ranma would either confess and make things easy or just in some way give me a good reason to back off. But gods, it felt so good to finally get the drop on my Airen after such a long and frustrating hunt. I had to focus to avoid grinding my hips against hers and maintain the illusion that I was still considering finishing the job.

I could see Ranma working out what to say by the way her eyes moved, and I kept my ears open for the sound of anyone trying to interfere. “Okay, you got me, Shampoo, I’m not Ranma,” she said, relaxing back to the floor. 

Dammit…

“But my brother is going to be really pissed off if you hurt me.”

Fine, I could work with this. The plan was to get Ranma to relax enough to confess, or get them with a cup of water or tea later, or some other way to catch them in the act of transforming, either worked fine.

“Yeah?” I leaned forwards. “So, what is your name then? Or is your father stupid enough to name both his children Ranma?”

The redhead beneath me giggled and I had to concentrate to avoid looking down at her jiggling chest. “I wouldn’t put it past my pops, but no I’m…” Suddenly there was a flash of panic in Ranma’s eyes and she looked around everywhere but at me.

Oh gods, this adorable idiot hadn’t even taken the time to think of a new name?

“Ran… ko?”

Gods, they’re lucky that they are so cute. “Ni Hao, Ranko. And how are you going to make things right between us?”

“What? You’re the one trying to kill me!” Ranma squawked at me indignantly.

“Yes,” I said calmly. “You ate my victory feast beneath my nose, then proceeded to utterly humiliate me in front of my entire tribe and make me into a complete joke,” I continued, the feelings of humiliation and shame were easy to unearth and channel into my face and body.

“So,” I spat, the knife shaking a little in my hand. “How are you going to repay me, if not with your life?”

I saw in Ranma’s eyes when it actually clicked that it hadn’t just been a simple duel to me and that I wasn’t just a sore loser, that from my perspective I might actually have a genuine grievance, and I had to fight to not relax my guard then and there. I had gotten what I wanted out of Ranma, now I just had to let the scene play out.

“Uhm…” Ranma seemed to be genuinely lost for what to do, and maybe that was something I should have anticipated. Growing up with Genma for a father and being soaked in his type of toxic masculinity would make apologizing when you don’t absolutely have to anathema. Combine that with Ranma’s foot-in-mouth disease and you had a recipe for complete disaster, especially around a stubborn girl like Akane, or me.

Luckily I had just had quite a lot of sharp corners knocked off by having some additional knowledge forcefully injected into my brain, so I no longer had any qualms about giving Ranma a helping hand. “An apology would be a very good beginning,” I suggested.

“Oh!” the girl beneath me blinked, as if the idea had never occurred to her. “I’m, uhm… I’m sorry, Shampoo. Didn’t know it was such a big deal.”

Well, baby steps, I suppose. “Thank you, Ranko,” I said, then leaned in and sealed my lips to hers. Ranma’s lips were softer like this, smaller, more pillowy, but still recognizably the same person, especially when she froze in the same manner as she had when I kissed her on the mouth as a boy.

The knife clattered to the floor as I let go of it so that I could grab Ranma by the back of the neck, caressing her hair and burying my fingers in the crimson tangle leading to her pigtail.

When I came up for air we were both panting hard and Ranma was blushing deeply all the way down her neck. Her lips were swollen slightly and her chest rose and fell in a very enticing manner. Gods, I wonder how long it would have taken me to see Ranma’s girl form for the gorgeous thing she was if not for that knock on the head?

“We can work out the details of the rest of your apology later~” I purred.

Ranma looked behind me and began trying to say something, so I leaned back and looked over my shoulder. Akane was standing in the doorway, speechless and blushing as brightly as Ranma was.

“A-Akane, this is not- we weren’t-” Ranma stuttered, utterly incapable of explaining why I was straddling her while she was naked.

“Ni Hao~” I said, only a little upset that we got interrupted. “I found Ranma’s sister! Ranko said sorry.”

~~~

Predictably enough, things went downhill. I wasn’t too upset by that, I had been prepared, but even so the coldness that Akane displayed towards both me and Ranma after she walked in on us in the furo made me unexpectedly morose. I kept up the pretense that I didn’t know that Ranma and Ranko were the same person and acted oblivious about it, and Akane clenched her teeth and didn’t out Ranma, which I took as a good sign.

I spent my usual writing practice that evening reading up on LGBT terms in a dictionary and encyclopedia instead, as much as the terms could be argued to exist in Japanese anyway. Polyamory didn’t exist in the dictionary, and the best description for a trans person was newhalf, which was loaded with baggage. I could tell that there would be a lot of English in the conversation I expected to have with Akane when the dam finally burst.

That turned out to be the sparring match the very next evening.

I ducked a kick from Akane that would have taken my head off, or at least severely inconvenienced me, if it had hit. Then parried a grab.

Akane was fighting with a cold ruthlessness that she hadn’t managed before, not even when I had intentionally riled her up. Her movements were tighter, less wasteful, and she fought with a focus I would have praised her for if she could have managed it without being goaded into it by jealous rage.

I let her tire the both of us out before jumping and flipping over her body, two fingers trailing her scalp as I sailed above her upside down, then slammed both feet between her shoulderblades and drove her to the floor.

“You are angry with me,” I stated blithely, breathing hard. “Why?” Well, I was pretty sure that I knew why, I just wanted to know if Akane did. 

“As if you don’t know!” Akane snapped, her face turning a shade of pink. “Y-you… you kissed h-her!”

“I did, yes.” And I’d do it again if given half a chance.

“You can’t do that!” Akane protested.

“Why not?” I asked. Acting like a brat shouldn’t be this fun, really.

“Because!” Akane spluttered. “G-girls can’t do that sort of thing with each other!”

I leaned forward, not raising my voice. “Why can’t girls kiss?” I asked in a gentle non-confrontational tone. I was channeling one of my classmates back in my past life when I studied woodworking at secondary school. At the time I had been a homophobic little shithead and spouted proudly that watching lesbian sex was okay but male on male was not. And he’d asked me in a gentle voice what the difference was without engaging in my fight or flight rhetorical reflex. Even now I admire the guy for that masterful mental slight of hand.

Without me shouting back at her, Akane’s defences didn’t trigger and she lowered her voice. “A-are you a lesbian then?” she asked, uncertain.

I shook my head, sitting down seiza in front of her. “No, I am not a lesbian,” I told her, and before the confusion could set in on Akane's face I added. “I am bisexual. I like both girls and boys.”

“That’s perv-” Akane began, but I interrupted her.

“Who says?” I couldn’t keep the disgust off my tongue. “A bunch of self righteous old farts who have no business telling me who I can and cannot fall in love with? Or have sex with? Or even what my gender is!” I was getting riled up and I didn’t give a shit. If I wasn’t sitting seiza I would be pacing like an angry cat. “Telling me what I can and cannot do with my own body or with other people!? They can go fuck themselves! Shitty old men,” I pointed at Akane. “And old women, they do it as well! Too soaked in patriarchal bullshit to know how brainwashed they are!”

“Kasumi isn’t-” Akane began outraged, but I cut her off with a gesture.

“No, but give her twenty or thirty years and she might be,” I said. “Remember yesterday when she lectured me about drinking? Back when I was a teenager it was normal for kids to go to parties, bringing a couple of beers provided by their parents or other family members, and she’s gonna lecture me about a couple of cups of sake? Give me a break.”

Akane gave me an odd look. “Shampoo… What are you talking about? You’re the same age as I am.”

Oh fuck… I ran back what I just said in my mind and realized that I had relayed something from when I was fourteen or fifteen back in northern Scandinavia, several subjective decades ago. “Err…”

When in doubt, deflect. “That’s not important, what I am trying to say is that being into guys, or girls, or both, is okay.”

Akane looked conflicted, stuck between several emotions. Offended disgust, stubborn pride, and something that might be confused hope. “B-but… that can't be okay…”

“Why not?” I asked, leaning forward as I spoke. “Who does it hurt if two girls kiss each other and maybe do other things as long as they like each other?”

Akane's face went red as she pictured something, quite possibly me and Ranma in the furo yesterday evening. I smiled suggestively at the blue haired girl, but it didn’t have the intended effect. “So you like each other then…?” she asked, sounding less curious and more like she was resigned.

That was not the reaction I had expected from Akane. “Well… I like her,” I conceded. “Despite the humiliation she put me through. I do not know if Ranko likes me back.” I shuffled closer to Akane. “What about you, do you like Ranko~?” I teased.

“W-why would I like that jerk!” Akane blushed and looked away.

“I don’t kno~ow,” I said as I came closer. “She is cute, she can fight, she has pretty muscles,” I was close enough to whisper in Akane’s ear. “Just like you~”

The sound Akane made was somewhat akin to a kettle steaming off. “I-I-I-” she stammered, and before she knew it I was cuddled up next to her on the dojo floor while she stared at her fidgeting fingers.

I waited patiently for a couple of minutes, both to give Akane the time to speak, and to muster the will to do the thing that would, if Ranma and Akane wouldn’t be okay with a polycule, utterly torpedo and sink my chances with them like a rock.

“He’s in love with you, you know?” I told her, melancholy coloring my words.

“W-who!?” Akane asked, confused.

I rolled my eyes. This idiot was lucky that she was so cute. “Ranma,” I teased, poking Akane’s cheek. “Who else did you think I was talking about?”

This time Akane seemed to gather herself together a little. “I-I don’t know,” she said awkwardly. “I thought when you said that you had someone else you liked, that you meant Ryoga.”

“Ryo- Pfff!” I snorted as I tried not to laugh. “Nonono,” I told her. “He is handsome, but has too much, what is the word? Baggage?” 

“So, you like me?”

I nodded.

“And you like Ranma… and Ranko,” Akane added, stumbling a little as she remembered to keep Ranma’s two forms separate.

“Mhmm~” I agreed.

“And he… likes me?” she whispered.

“He does,” I confirmed.

“I just don’t get why you’re not taking him and going back to China without me, I’m just in the way,” Akane mumbled, having curled up into a tight ball.

I sighed and hugged her tight. “No, I could not. He does not love me, I am not sure if he even likes me, and if I did anything to you Airen would never forgive me.”

“But Ranma doesn’t insult you, or your body,” Akane protested. “And he can talk to you without arguing.”

Gods help me. It felt like I was trying to explain to Akane that water was wet.

“Akane, Airen is a boy,” I said, rubbing her upper arm as I cuddled her, head resting on her shoulder. She really was very warm, like a space heater. “And he is, I admit, a bit immature.” Akane snorted at this. “So right now he is pulling at your pigtails because you are the girl at kindergarten that he has a crush on,” I explained, and Akane looked down at me, surprised.

“But I scare him,” I told Akane, lifting my head to look her in the eyes. “I am not afraid to tell him that I love him, I like hugs and physical contact, and he does not know how to handle that. But you, Akane, keep him at arms length, where he feels safe and can engage in the only kind of social interaction he understands, teasing.”

Akane digested that and, to my delight, wrapped an arm around my waist to give me a squeeze. “I see…” she said finally. “Thank you, Shampoo.”

I made a happy sound and nuzzled her shoulder. “You're welcome, Akane,” I told her. “And uhm… if you don’t want to share a room with me anymore, I understand.”

She blushed. “No, that's okay. You don't have to change rooms, but…” It took her a while to figure out the question, time I was happy to give her. “How did it…” Her blush turned incandescent and her voice into a whisper. “How did it feel to k-kiss Ranko?" 

I'm sure the grin I gave Akane was downright predatory. “Do you want me to show you?”

Akane’s slow hesitant nod was all the invitation I needed.

She tasted like apples.

~~~

Shan Pu entered our room and sat down huffily on our bed, arms crossed, eyes locked onto the screen of the gray Samsung CRT TV that sat on a dresser on the other side of the room while she fumed silently.

I waited patiently for her to say her piece as I played, guiding Naked Snake through a section of Soviet rainforest. 

“Okay, fine!” she gave up. It was hard for an extrovert like her to compete with an autistic introvert when it came to the silent treatment. “You were right, killing Violent Girl would have been a mistake and Airen is going to take time to seduce. There, I said it. Happy?”

I smiled. “Yeah, I'm happy, but not because you said I was right.” The PS2 controller felt comfortable in my hand and I focused on the screen instead of the younger doppelganger next to me.

“Okay…” Shan Pu said warily, eyeing me as if she expected me to reveal some hidden gotcha.

“We got to kiss some pretty girls. I'm fairly sure that we can convince Ranma and Akane to give a polycule a shot. And we got a cool side gig as a badass bodyguard that'll give us some good money,” I explained, looking away from the screen to give Shan Pu a smile. “Life is good."

Shan Pu snorted and turned to the TV. “Dead Girl needs higher standards.” She looked at the slim PS2 sitting anachronistically in the middle of the floor of her room in the Nuijezu village. Her room didn't even have the right kind of electrical sockets for the console or the TV, but that didn't matter to dream logic. “And what is that thing?" 

I brushed the insult off and gestured to the console. “That's a Playstation Two. It won't come out for like, ten years, I think. I'm playing Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater.”

On the screen Naked Snake looked up from the tree he was leaning against as he waited for me to continue playing and gave Shan Pu a wave, then returned to smoking his cigar.

“I'm surprised you don't recognize it," I said. “I'm pretty sure I have access to all of your memories, you should be able to see all of mine."

The teenage girl looked both annoyed and uncomfortable. “I haven't seen much. Dead Girl’s life is so boring, and…” Shan Pu looked like she was going to be nauseous. “And a male body is so uncomfortable.”

I sighed and rubbed her back in soothing circles. “Yeah, it sucked. Sorry about that.”