Prologue

     "Darling, please don't go!"
     The tears in her voice threatened to break his resolve, and for a 
moment he wavered on the threshold; he almost turned back, set down 
his pack, and took her in his arms.  Almost.  But then the youngest of 
his daughters let out an ear-splitting screech, reminding him in the 
nick of time just why he was leaving, and so he shrugged off his 
wife's clinging hands and stepped through the door, continuing a few 
steps onto the front sidewalk before turning to regard her from a safe 
distance.
     "I must go," he declared sonorously, keeping his face stoic.  "I 
have neglected my art for far too long, lain at ease in the soft arms 
of domesticity, pampered into weakness and dissolution.  Such is not 
the way of the warrior."  He turned his profile to her, gazing into 
the endless night, just as the samurai on that night's TV drama had 
done.  "I must go on this training journey, for the sake of my art... 
and my soul."
     <Not to mention my sanity...> he thought wretchedly, marveling 
that the baby had yet to come up for air.  How on earth did so much 
noise come from such tiny lungs?  He repressed a shudder.  There was 
no way at all he would last even another month surrounded by women - 
not to even speculate on the years to come, filled with dresses and 
shopping and little pink teddy bears.  Was there ever such misery as a 
man with three daughters?
     "But, darling..."  His wife was wavering, he could see it.  She 
had always had a strong sense of honor.  Time to make use of it.
     "It is my duty," he said sternly.  "My duty as a man, to be true 
to my manhood.  Just as it is your duty to be true to your womanhood."
     "My... duty?"  She seemed taken by that thought, almost inspired.  
Perfect.
     "Yes, your duty."  He stepped forward again to lay a bracing hand 
on her shoulder.  "You must raise our children to be fine young ladies 
- indeed, women among women."
     "Women among women..." Her voice was hushed, hands clasped before 
her raptly; he could practically see the stars in her eyes.
     "Much as I regret leaving..." (he stifled a chuckle, hoping it 
sounded like a sob) "...my presence would only dilute their womanhood.  
No, my dear, it is up to you."
     With that, he turned and made his escape, relief welling up 
within him as the road stretched out ahead.  There was a bit of regret 
in him after all, for in his way he did love his wife and children, 
and even had that not been so, he would without a doubt miss the fine 
meals every night - but he stifled the emotion quickly.  This was the 
only way.  If he had had a son, just one son...  No, he would still 
have left, but at least he would have taken his son with him.  He had 
some sense of duty himself.  Really.
     Genma Saotome disappeared into the night.
     Nodoka stood for long moments as if watching his departure, but 
in fact her eyes were focused on something other than the dark road 
and his fading pale form, something intangible and radiant deep within 
her mind's eye.
     "Women among women..." she repeated, a slow smile creeping across 
her face.  "Yes, of course.  That is what I will do."
     As if in a trance, she walked past her three young daughters, who 
had all fallen silent, as if aware that they were witnessing something 
sacred, something profound.  There, in the living room - the family 
sword.  Deep within her, there was some surprise that Genma had not 
taken it with him - but she was in the throes of a mystical rapture, 
and the surprise barely had a chance to appear before it was 
suffocated by messianic bliss.  Her hands rested upon the scabbard 
reverently, and she fell to her knees before the sword's display rack, 
closing her eyes.  She could feel her daughters approaching, the 
oldest bearing the youngest, and smiled.  That was what was needed.  
She regretfully lifted her hands just long enough to take those of her 
children, folding them over the scabbard as well.  She could almost 
sense power flowing into her, into her children, and the power took 
her tongue and spoke.
     "I vow it, on my life and the lives of my children.  Women among 
women they shall be - or die."
     Deep within her, there was a faint stirring, as if in protest - 
but it was yet too faint for her to sense, barely a ripple in the 
ocean, and it would be another month before Nodoka realized that her 
vow had been spoken not for three children, but for four.


I'M A BOY

A Ranma 1/2 Fanfiction
by Bridget E. Wilde

Ranma 1/2 and its characters are the creation of Rumiko Takahashi, and 
the rights belong where she has chosen to bestow them.

This work is the creation of yours truly, and may not be reproduced in 
whole or in part without my permission.  (Which is not difficult to 
obtain, but it's the thought that counts...)



CHAPTER 1: A New Student

"It's a boy, Mrs. Walker, it's a boy.
It's a boy, Mrs. Walker, it's a boy!
A son... A son... A son...!"

--The Who, "Tommy"


     Akane really hated boys. 
     She hated the way they acted, pathetic egotistical roosters, 
crowing before they even lost their pinfeathers.  She hated the way 
they talked, like gangsters, rude and arrogant without any source for 
their pride.  But most of all, she hated the way they treated girls.
	Take that poor girl in the corner, for example.  Classes hadn't 
even started on this, their first day in high school, and already the 
pundits among the boys had dubbed her the "thick chick" and were 
loudly discussing her lack of merit from just a few desks away, their 
covert, derisive glances making clear the object of their mirth.  Nor 
was she the only victim - Michiko, who had been with Akane in Junior 
High, had been near tears merely ten minutes before when her "scrawny 
chicken-legs" had been the favored topic of discussion. Akane had no 
doubt that by the end of the day, there wouldn't be a girl in the 
classroom who hadn't been wounded in some way by their cruel opinions, 
herself included.  What made it worse was that Akane knew that these 
same rude, insulting boys would do almost anything to catch even a 
glimpse of one of the girls they derided in the locker room, would 
practically faint if one of them actually agreed to a date.  Utterly 
pathetic.
	The "thick chick" herself was seated at her desk, hands clenched 
slightly on its edge as she studied with apparent fascination her 
cleanly manicured fingernails.  Honestly, Akane couldn't see what was 
supposedly wrong with her.  A little wide across the shoulders, she 
supposed, with a correspondingly wide torso, but she had a graceful, 
ladylike posture that Akane immediately envied, and had that type of 
innate sense of style that shone through even in a school uniform, 
just by the way it was fitted and the accessories chosen for it.  Her 
hair was easily the longest in the room - Akane estimated with another 
twinge of envy that it would reach well past her waist when standing - 
though now it was draped around her bowed face, like a curtain of 
silk. Her hands were a bit large - but clean and trimmed, the faintest 
sheen of nail polish visible even so far from the window.  No, there 
was nothing wrong with her at all, Akane decided, getting to her feet 
with an abrupt sniff.
     After all, girls just had to stick together.
     The girl looked up sidelong as Akane approached, hands giving up 
their grip on the desk to clutch nervously at each other.  Up close, 
Akane could see that she wore some makeup, applied with a skillful 
hand so that from a distance it looked like she was wearing nothing.
     "Hi!" Akane said brightly, seating herself sideways in the next 
desk over.  "My name's Akane."
     The girl turned her head slightly in acknowledgment, eyes 
downcast again. "Ranko Saotome," she said in a low voice, barely loud 
enough for Akane to hear.  
     "Ranko.  I don't think I've ever known anybody named Ranko 
before."  Akane smiled encouragingly.
     Ranko remained silent, although her awkwardly twined fingers 
abruptly relaxed, self-consciously settling into a more demure 
position.  Ranko's ankles crossed, then recrossed the other way, and 
her head lifted slightly, though her eyes remained downcast.
     Akane's smile grew a bit more brittle, but she persevered.  "So, 
what do you think of Furinkan High?"
     "It's okay."  A little louder now.  Ranko spoke with a cultured, 
slightly formal tone; her eyes remained averted.
     "That's what I think, too.  It's exciting to be starting high 
school, though.  It's almost like we're adults."  A brief flicker of a 
glance, a ghost of a smile, but still silence.  Akane coughed faintly 
before continuing.  "So, do you do any sports?"
     An odd expression flickered across Ranko's face.  "No."
     "Oh."  
     There was another long pause while Akane tried to search for 
another topic of conversation.  Maybe she could talk about kempo, or, 
well, kempo, or...
     "Gymnastics."
     Akane nearly jumped out of her skin. "What?"
     "Gymnastics.  I like gymnastics."  Ranko was looking at her now, 
sidelong, as if gauging her reaction.
     "Oh."  Akane blew out her breath in relief.  "You going out for 
the team?"
     "No."  Ranko stared at her hands again.
     "...Oh."  Akane twined her own hands together, sighing.  "I... I 
do kempo."
     Ranko looked up in surprise.  "You mean martial arts?"  Her eyes 
were wide with shock, and really quite lovely.  Her face matched her 
build, slightly wider than was comfortable, but not unattractive.
	The boys didn't know what they were missing, Akane thought 
testily, but she didn't want to waste this first flicker of interest 
now that she'd found it.  "Yep.  My dad's been training me since I was 
little.  I'm not too bad, I guess."  There was something in the other 
girl's eyes, something that looked unexpectedly like longing, and it 
was with a bit of surprise that she heard her own voice say, "You want 
me to teach you some?"
     Ranko's hand flew to her mouth, and she looked worried.  "Can... 
Can girls do martial arts?"
     "Of course," Akane said with a bit of exasperation.  "I just told 
you *I* do martial arts.  Look, if you want me to, I'll teach you any 
time."  Ranko was again fascinated by her fingernails.  "Do you want 
me to?" Akane pressed.
     "...maybe." the other girl whispered.
     "Good."  The teacher walked into the room just then, calling the 
students to order.  Akane stood with a bit of relief to return to her 
own seat, but a final impulse made her lean over to Ranko's desk.  
"Let's be friends, okay?"
     "...okay."  Ranko looked up with a crooked smile, the first real 
one Akane had seen.  
     "And Ranko..."  Akane bent closer, her voice conspiratorial.  
"Don't listen to what *they* say.  I think you're really pretty."  
Ranko's face fell, and Akane kicked herself mentally for even bringing 
it up.  "Really, don't worry about it.  I mean, they're just *boys*."
     The teacher cleared his throat meaningfully, and Akane hurried 
forward to her seat at the front, trying not to feel as if she had 
just run a marathon.

*******

     Lunchtime was louder than junior high had ever been, and Akane 
stood for a while on the steps of the school, trying to decide where 
in the sea of chaos she might find a place to sit and eat.  She 
supposed it was nice that they didn't have to eat at their desks on 
fine days like this, but it was a bit overwhelming.
     "Hey there, sis!"
     She turned towards the call, spotting Nabiki in the midst of a 
crowd of her friends, in a prime spot not too far from the building, 
but in the shade of a tree.  Relieved, Akane hopped down the stairs to 
join her.
     Nabiki was obviously at the political center of the group; the 
other girls gathered there shifted subtly so that a place opened up 
for Akane without Nabiki having to move an inch.  She dropped to her 
knees and opened her lunchbox, feeling oddly uncomfortable even though 
obviously not unwelcome.
     "So, how's the first day going?"  Nabiki said offhandedly, giving 
Akane the impression she wasn't really that interested, but felt like 
she had to ask.
     "Not too bad."  Akane dug into lunch, eyes absently scanning the 
courtyard.  She saw now that most of the girls from her class were 
gathered near the steps, clinging together from the gossamer bonds of 
vague familiarity; one or two obviously knew each other from junior 
high, but for the most part they were a faceless group, feeling each 
other out now before they divided into smaller social groups later in 
the school year.  A few, of course, had already chosen their friends 
and separated themselves out, surveying the others with amused 
disdain.  A few were missing, and as she glanced around more, she 
could see they had found other islands of humanity to wash up on, some 
- like her - with older siblings, some on the fringes of social groups 
they obviously aspired to.
     A swirl of long black hair caught her eye, and she saw Ranko 
ducking behind a tree.  Nearby, a group of the boys from her class 
were laughing and joking; they certainly didn't seem to be made 
uncomfortable by the new surroundings.  Too dense for their society to 
be very complex, she supposed... Ranko was definitely a puzzle, one 
that Akane wasn't sure she had the energy to solve.  She seemed nice 
enough, very polite - but definitely strange.  Akane was still trying 
to figure out what had happened in gym class; when the rest of the 
girls had trooped into the locker room to change into their bloomers, 
Ranko had spoken to the teacher in her soft, cultured voice, showing 
him an official-looking document, and then had for some reason not 
joined the others, but instead sat demurely on the grass, ankles 
crossed gracefully to one side and hands folded neatly in her lap, 
watching them play softball with a strange, wistful pride on her face.  
Akane had tried to ask her about it in the hallway on the way back to 
their classroom, but Ranko had shrugged her hand away, muttered 
something about a "permanent waiver," and hurried ahead.
     "Geez, sis, you'd think you hadn't eaten for weeks."
     Nabiki's wry voice jerked Akane out of her thoughts, and she 
looked down sheepishly at her empty lunchbox.  She didn't even 
remember how it had tasted.  "I guess I was kinda hungry," she 
shrugged.
     "Hm.  Well, I suppose you can run along and play now."  Nabiki 
made a shooing motion with her hand, sipping delicately at the tea 
from her thermos.  Akane stared at her, slightly hurt; Nabiki set her 
cup down, leaning forward confidingly.  "Not that I don't like you, 
but you've got to make friends now if you want to have any the rest of 
the year.  Trust me." 
     "I guess so," Akane smiled, the hurt fading.  "I'm... a little 
nervous."
     "Don't be.  You've got enough class for any of them."  Nabiki 
sipped again at her tea, leaving Akane feeling as if dismissed from a 
royal presence.  She stood to leave, brushing a stray grain of rice 
from her skirt.
     "Oh, Akane?"  Nabiki's voice followed her into the sunlight.  
"You left before Kasumi could tell you, but we have guests coming over 
tonight.  Be sure you don't take too long after school."
     "Okay."  Akane stood for a moment just outside the circle of 
shade, eyes adjusting to the sunlight.  The huddled mass of her 
classmates was just a short distance ahead of her, and she braced 
herself for the fray - but then she found her eyes drawn to the tree 
Ranko had disappeared behind, and impulsively she turned in that 
direction instead, giving a halfhearted wave to Michiko as she passed.
     It was shady back there, but overgrown enough that it didn't seem 
a popular lunch spot - although the occasional muted giggle implied 
that it might be popular for another reason among young couples.  
Mosquitoes were thick, and Akane slapped at a few as she discreetly 
avoided the giggling bushes and went in search of Ranko.  She supposed 
it was possible that Ranko was one of the gigglers, but she didn't 
really seem the type to be interested in *boys*, and in any case if 
she was... consorting... with one of the witless morons, Akane didn't 
want to find her.
     But her instincts seemed to be correct - she spotted Ranko 
quickly enough, her back to a thick bush, lunchbox neatly set in her 
lap as she plied her chopsticks with meticulous grace.  Ranko seemed 
to be lost in her own thoughts, eyes vacant, lips moving faintly 
between bites as if reciting a lesson.
	"Hi, Ranko!"  Akane ventured, quietly enough that she hoped not 
to disturb anybody.
     Ranko started, nearly losing the bite poised near her mouth.  
"Oh!" she ventured faintly, eyes immediately dropping to regard her 
uniform hem with apparent fascination as she set her chopsticks down.  
"Hi, Akane."
     "Hi," Akane repeated, wondering just what had possessed her to 
actively seek out another labored, stilted conversation.  But then 
Ranko's eyes lifted shyly, a hint of genuine pleasure on her face, and 
Akane felt her pasted smile melting into genuine kindness.  There was 
something about the girl, she didn't know what, but it made her feel 
protective and curious at the same time.
     "Won't you sit down?" Ranko gestured to the grass across from her 
with a practiced courtesy that seemed to belong in a formal tearoom, 
not an overgrown, mosquito-infested thicket.  Half-amused, Akane 
seated herself with matching dignity, trying not to feel like a child 
playing dress-up.  "Would you like some tea?" Ranko offered her 
thermos.  
     Make that a tea-party, Akane thought.  Gravely, she held out her 
own thermos-cup.  "Thank you, I would." Ranko poured neatly, not 
spilling a drop, and settled herself into a more relaxed position, 
ankles crossed to one side.
     For a long moment, they sat there sipping tea together, silent 
but not - Akane thought in relief - not uncomfortable.  The only thing 
spoiling the peaceful moment was that she could hear the raucous 
voices of the boys from the other side of the bushes, laughing and 
bragging.  The jerks.  It was a wonder Ranko was even sitting within 
earshot of them, after the way they had treated her...
     But the tea could only last so long, and Akane found her mind 
racing in search of a topic of conversation, her hands idly swirling 
the tea leaves in the dregs of her cup.  Maybe martial arts again?  
She wished she could ask just what Ranko's "permanent waiver" 
entailed.  Asthma?  Heart problems?  She really couldn't think of too 
many conditions that would convince the rigid Japanese schools to let 
her out of P.E. entirely... And now that she thought of it, wouldn't 
anything that serious also mean that Ranko couldn't do kempo?  But 
even with that thought in her head, something about the way the other 
girl had ducked away from her, something about the vulnerable way she 
was sitting now, made Akane uncomfortable broaching the subject.
     Ranko had finished her tea as well, and was plucking idly at the 
sparse grass, scattering fragments of leaves beside her skirt.  Akane 
couldn't help but marvel again at the size of her hands - and, she 
noticed suddenly, of her feet, which were at least three sizes larger 
than Akane's own.  Really, Ranko looked to her like an adolescent 
puppy, body not yet grown to match her paws... She could feel herself 
staring, and quickly looked back at her cup, gazing instead at the tea 
leaves as if she knew how to read their arcane messages.   
     Just as things were starting to get uncomfortable again - just as 
Akane was about to leave on some excuse or another - Ranko murmured 
something that Akane didn't quite catch.
     "Excuse me?"
     "I said, you're pretty good at softball," Ranko said more loudly, 
her face turning slightly red.  
     "Um... thanks, I guess.  I never thought I was anything special 
at it."  Akane could feel her face flushing as well, and shook herself 
sharply.
     "No, really.  I was watching you, and you're definitely one of 
the best.  I should know, I've watched a lot of softball."  Ranko's 
voice trailed off slightly, and she suddenly looked down again.  
     "Oh."  Akane swirled her tea leaves again.
     "What's it like?"
     "What's what like?"
     "Softball."
     "Haven't you... haven't you ever played?"
     Ranko fell silent for a long moment, then shrugged.  "We can't 
afford sports equipment at home, and I don't get to play at school."
     This was the moment.  Akane drank the last drops of her tea, the 
tea leaves bitter on her tongue.  "Why not?" she said casually, her 
tone belying her curiosity.
     "I... I just can't."  Ranko busied herself cleaning up the 
remains of her lunch, packing everything neatly into her Hello Kitty 
lunchbag.
     "Why not?"  Akane repeated, growing impatient.  "Look, I was 
serious when I said I'd teach you kempo, but if there's some reason 
why you can't do it, maybe asthma or..."
     "No!"  Ranko burst out, then dropped her head.  "Not asthma, 
not... anything like that."  Her shoulders stiffened, and her head 
came up again, the fierce pride in her eyes nearly frightening Akane.  
"There's nothing wrong with me."
     "I... didn't say there was."  
     Ranko deflated suddenly.  "No, you didn't.  But I know... I know 
people think it."
     Akane stuck her chin out.  "Well, I don't."
     "You would, if..."  Ranko fell silent again, hands suddenly 
folding into the neat, demure pose Akane was beginning to recognize as 
a shield, her mobile face stiffening into a flat, vacant mask.  
     "If what?"  Akane pressed, leaning forward.
     But the bell rang, echoing harshly through the bushes, and Ranko 
leapt to her feet and dashed out of the bushes, lunchbag swinging 
madly behind her.  Akane was left staring at a few grains of rice on 
the ground, wondering dizzily why she was putting herself through 
something like this. 
     
*******

	Akane ignored the sweat trickling down her brow, focusing her 
entire mind into the edge of her hand, feeling the strength there, the 
flow of energy down her arm to that point...  With a fierce _kiai_ 
yell, she brought her hand down on the cinderblock, shattering it into 
dozens of pieces that spattered against the pants of her _gi_ and 
tumbled restlessly across the floor of the dojo to join hundreds of 
their brethren, remnants of the afternoon's training.
	"Ah, that felt good!" She wiped the sweat from her forehead onto 
her dusty sleeve.
	"Akane, aren't you ready yet?"
	Kasumi was hovering in the doorway of the dojo, as if afraid to 
enter that one part of the house that was not entirely her domain.  
Akane brushed grey dust from the side of her hand and tossed her hair 
back over her shoulder. "Ready for what?"
	"Our guests.  They should be here any moment now.  Didn't Nabiki 
tell you?" 
	"Oh, it's time already?"  Akane slung her towel around her neck 
and jogged over to the door.  "Don't worry, Kasumi.  I'll rinse off 
and be dressed long before they get here."
	A polite knock sounded at the door.  
	"Uh-oh."  Akane gave her sister a sheepish grin.  "Look, it'll 
only take me a bit.  I'll be out in two minutes, and I'll clean up the 
dojo later.  Promise!"  She dashed down the hall, leaving Kasumi to 
survey the mess in the dojo.
	"Oh, my."

*******

	It was more like ten minutes later that Akane hurried into the 
living room, hair damp but combed and face still pink from the heat of 
the water.  Kasumi gave her a mildly reproachful look as she entered, 
then returned her attention to the five women seated along one long 
side of the table.
	"Would you like some more tea, Mrs. Saotome?"
	The guests were neatly attired in kimono, their long hair 
modestly pulled back from their faces.  Each of them appeared to be a 
model of the Ideal Japanese Woman, and Akane flushed, suddenly 
embarrassed of her own casual cotton jumper.
	The oldest was a middle-aged woman, who looked like she might be 
the same age as Akane's own father, but having aged much more 
gracefully.  Her face was serenely lovely, liquid brown eyes 
surrounded by the barest tracery of lines that, instead of detracting 
from her looks, gave the impression that time had simply refined her. 
Her build was slender, hands graceful and slim.  Along her lap lay a 
long, thin bundle wrapped tightly in cloth.  She was listening to Soun 
expound upon the weather as if the very concept of weather were 
fascinating beyond belief.
The next three girls were variations on the theme, though 
obviously in the first bloom of youth, their hairstyles and kimono 
less severe in style.  They sipped from Kasumi's best teacups with 
unconscious grace, their attention focused on the adults at the head 
of the table.
	The last girl was Ranko.
	Akane started, and was about to say something, but Ranko gave her 
such a look of misery that she kept her silence, returning her gaze to 
her father.
	It was at that time that Soun noticed her entrance, smiling 
beatifically.  "Akane, I'm so glad you're here.  I'd like you to meet 
Mrs. Saotome.  She's the wife of an old friend of mine... And these 
are their lovely daughters, Mariko, Fujiko, Sachiko, and Ranko."  Each 
of the girls nodded their heads in turn.
	"Pleased to meet you," Akane smiled, bowing and taking her own 
place opposite Ranko, who was now staring at the table.  "I'm so sorry 
to keep you waiting."  Nabiki nudged her to get her attention, giving 
her an infuriatingly enigmatic look, the one that she always wore when 
she knew something that Akane didn't.  Soun didn't seem to notice, 
going on with exuberance.
	"Well, now that Akane is here, perhaps we can get started."
	"Indeed."  Mrs. Saotome's voice was like a viola, sweet and low 
and clear.  "Well, as I mentioned earlier, my husband has been gone on 
a training trip for some time now."
	"Ah, Genma."  Soun's voice was rich with reminiscence.  "He 
always did love training trips.  How long has he been gone now - six 
months? A year?"
	"Sixteen years."
	Silence descended upon the table as the Tendos absorbed that 
information, their faces betraying various degrees of shock.  The 
Saotomes remained serene - except, Akane noted, for Ranko, whose face 
wavered between resentment and longing before settling on a stony 
blankness.  Ranko must take after her father, Akane thought suddenly, 
for she was the only one of the Saotome daughters who seemed to have 
missed out on her mother's slim figure and hands.  
      Finally, Soun cleared his throat.  "Well, that's... that's quite 
the training trip," he said lamely.
      "Indeed." Nodoka smiled gently.  "I am certain he has achieved a 
remarkable level of training in the Art by now."
      "My goodness," Kasumi said softly.  "It must have been very 
difficult for you."
      Nodoka's smile wavered, but only for a moment.  "I will not deny 
that we have had to live frugally.  But we are the family of a martial 
artist.  What care we for luxury?"  She sipped reflectively at her 
tea.  "But that is beside the point.  What I have come here to discuss 
is this." She took a yellowed piece of paper from the breast of her 
kimono, smoothing out the creases upon the table.  "I found this in a 
box of my husband's old papers."
      Soun scanned the paper briefly.  "Ah, yes. I do remember this.  
Though I had not heard from Saotome in so long that I haven't thought 
of it in years."
      "What is it, Daddy?"  Nabiki leaned forward to look at the paper.
      "It's an agreement between my good friend Saotome and myself that 
when we both had children, we would marry them together to carry on 
the School of Anything-Goes Martial Arts."
      "What?"  Akane nearly jumped to her feet.  "Dad, you arranged a 
marriage for us before we were even born?  How could you?"
      "Now, Akane, please sit down.  You're disturbing our guests."  
Akane realized that the Saotome clan was indeed staring at her, the 
mother with a tiny frown of disapproval, the three older sisters with 
identical looks of polite curiosity, and Ranko with a peculiarly 
fearful fascination.
      "I... I'm sorry.  This is just... a bit sudden."  She seated 
herself again and composed her hands on the table.
      "That's quite all right," Soun smiled indulgently, then again 
addressed Nodoka.  "This is the reason for your visit, then?"
      "Yes."  Nodoka sighed, gazing reflectively at her tea.  "Though I 
am afraid my visit was all for naught.  I had hoped you would have a 
son, for as you can see, I too have been blessed entirely with 
daughters."
      Ranko broke in, her voice strangely desperate.  "But, Mother, 
I..."
      "Ranko!"  Nodoka's voice was sharp and implacable. Her hands 
tightened on the strange bundle in her lap.   "Need I remind you of 
your vow?"
      "But it's not my..." Ranko broke off, and Akane suddenly noticed 
that Sachiko had gripped the younger girl's leg tightly, though her 
expression remained bland.  Ranko looked for a moment as if she might 
say more, but then she deflated, her hands folding in her lap.  "No, 
Mother.  I have not forgotten," she said tonelessly.
      The silence that followed was oppressive, until Soun, somehow 
oblivious to the undercurrents of the conversation, sighed 
dramatically.  "I suppose it cannot be helped," he said regretfully.  
"I had so hoped... But then, fools do dream..." He laughed amiably, 
and somehow the awful tension was broken.
	Nodoka made as if to rise, her daughters beginning to follow her 
lead, but Kasumi leaned forward to pour more tea, smiling invitingly.  
"Won't you please stay for dinner?"
	Soun nodded eagerly.  "Yes, please do.  Kasumi's sukiyaki is just 
like her mother's, absolutely delicious..."
	Kasumi blushed.  "Oh, Father, you mustn't brag so."
	"Sukiyaki?"  Ranko's voice was eager, and she darted a pleading 
glance to her mother before looking down at her hands again.  
	Nodoka looked torn.  "I hate to impose upon you..."
	"Oh, it's no bother at all!"  Soun said expansively.  "It just 
wouldn't feel right to let you leave so soon, not when our families 
have met again after so long.  Perhaps you could give me some advice 
on raising daughters?  I have tried since my poor wife passed away, 
but I would be grateful for a woman's advice..."
	That brought a smile to Nodoka's face, and she settled back down 
into her seat.  "I suppose we might be able to stay for the evening.  
You girls have finished your homework, haven't you?"  Ranko nodded 
vigorously, and Sachiko inclined her head as well; Fujiko and Mariko 
were both apparently beyond high school.  "Well, then, if you 
insist..."  
	Kasumi rose with a smile, excusing herself gracefully to go 
prepare dinner; without a moment's hesitation, the middle Saotome 
girl, Fujiko, offered her assistance.  It was as if that were a signal 
to the rest; Nabiki was soon sitting on the stoop with Sachiko, 
discussing the latest fashions, while Mariko stepped down into the 
garden, wandering around the fringes of the fish pond.  
	Ranko was staring at her hands again, and Akane was momentarily 
annoyed.  Didn't the girl have any self-confidence?  On impulse, she 
leaned across the table, covering Ranko's hands with her own.  When 
Ranko looked up in surprise, she smiled conspiratorially.  "Wanna go 
see our dojo?"
	"Oh!  Oh, may I?"  She glanced sidelong at her mother, but she 
was deep in advice, and besides, Akane wasn't going to take no for an 
answer.
	"Yes, you may.  Let's go."  Akane half-dragged Ranko to her feet, 
and before the other girl could object, they were out of the room and 
halfway down the hall.
	The dojo was a disaster, and Ranko stopped short in the doorway, 
her face almost comical with dismay.
	"Sorry about the mess," Akane shrugged with a half-smile.  "I got 
a little carried away after school."  She started gathering up some of 
the larger blocks and carting them to the dustbin.
	Ranko stepped gingerly into the training hall.  "Is martial arts 
always this... messy?"  
	"Oh, no."  Akane hefted a large fragment in her palm.  "Usually 
we just use the cinderblocks for testing and stuff, and only for 
really high levels.  But we haven't had any students in a while, and 
so sometimes I use them to help me relax.  Nothing like the feel of a 
cinderblock shattering..." - she tossed her chunk into the air, and 
shattered it with a well-timed spin kick - "...to calm the nerves."  
She cast her eyes down modestly at Ranko's awed look.  "The first day 
of school had me kinda worked up."
	Ranko's look of wonder faded into a wistful smile.  "Yeah, me 
too."  She tiptoed a bit further into the room.  "May I help?"
	"Well... It's not very polite of me to ask, but if you really 
WANT to..." Akane winked conspiratorially, jerking her head towards 
the broom that stood in the corner.  "...be my guest."
	It took remarkably little time to gather up all the large 
fragments and sweep up the last of the dust.  Hardly any time at all - 
but somehow at the end of it, Akane and Ranko were sitting in the 
middle of the floor, laughing as if they had known each other for 
years.
	"So!"  Akane gestured about her expansively, taking on the tones 
of a tour guide.  "This is our dojo.  Currently not particularly 
active, but it's been around for a long time, so we get a small 
stipend from the government for maintaining it as a 'historical 
treasure.'" Her voice regained its usual timbre.  "When I grow up, 
though, I want to take in lots of students.  The Tendo clan used to be 
one of the most renowned families of martial artists in all Japan, you 
know."
	"Really?"  Ranko twitched the hem of her kimono to cover her now-
somewhat-dusty _tabi_ socks.  "I think the Saotomes used to be really 
great, too.  I suppose we still are, if you count Father.  But we 
don't have a dojo."
	"Well, you can come use ours any time you want to."  Akane smiled 
encouragingly.  "I bet you could be really good, too, if you practice 
enough."
	"Do you think so?"  Ranko's face glowed at the prospect.  "I... I 
always wanted to learn martial arts..." Her voice trailed off into 
silence.
	"Because of your dad?" 
	Ranko nodded.
	"Me too."  Akane tilted her head back to look at the planks that 
made up the ceiling.  "One of the first things I can remember is 
watching him teach a class in here.  He was so strong, and somehow so 
wise... It was like he was a prince, almost.  I was maybe three, or 
four.  I remember watching through a crack in the door, and then 
later, when the class was over, I snuck in here and tried to do what 
I'd seen him doing.  I fell down, of course, but I was so determined 
to be like him that I just stood up and tried again, and again.  I 
don't know how many times I tried and fell, but suddenly he was there, 
looking down at me.  I was so ashamed; I had wanted to surprise him 
with how well I did, and I just knew he had seen me fall.  But he 
didn't say anything.  He just picked me up, set me on my feet, and 
knelt down beside me.  The next time I tried, his hands helped me do 
it right - and then, when I had felt how it was supposed to feel, I 
did it myself.  That was when I knew I wanted to carry on the dojo - 
not in so many words, but I knew."  Akane fell silent, suddenly 
embarrassed at having said so much.  Ranko was watching her with 
curiously intense eyes, her too-large hands plucking at her kimono.
	"Akane..."  Ranko's voice was like an explosion in the silence of 
the dojo.  "Have you ever had a secret?" 
	"A secret?"  The change of subject was jarring.  "I... I guess 
so."
	"Not just a little secret.  One that you couldn't tell anyone, 
anyone at all."
	"Well..." There was something wrong here, but Akane couldn't tell 
exactly what.  "Maybe."
	Ranko gazed hard at Akane's face, as if searching for something 
hidden deep in the pores of her skin.  "Akane, I..."
	"Dinner's ready!"  Kasumi stood in the doorway, her apron so 
pristine Akane wondered testily why she even bothered wearing it.
	"Dinner?"  How Ranko managed to move so quickly and gracefully in 
a kimono was beyond Akane, but she was practically out the door before 
Akane made it to her feet.  "Come on, Akane!"  Ranko called out gaily.  
"I don't want the sukiyaki to run out."
	"Oh, we won't run out," Kasumi said blithely.  "I made plenty for 
everyone."
	"You'd think you'd never had sukiyaki before," Akane teased as 
she followed them into the hall.
	Ranko's back stiffened visibly.  "Of... of course I've eaten 
sukiyaki before.  We have sukiyaki all the time at my house. Two or 
three times a week, in fact."
	"...okay," Akane said weakly.  "I was just making a joke."
	"...oh."  Ranko turned with a guilty expression on her face.  
"I'm sorry, Akane.  We're... still friends, right?"
	Akane smiled despite herself.  She really had to work on this 
girl's self-confidence.  "Of course we're still friends."
	"How nice," Kasumi contributed to the conversation.
	And looking at the smile on Ranko's face, Akane realized with 
some surprise that it was.

*******

	There was a note waiting for her the next morning when she went 
to change her shoes, pink Hello Kitty stationery sealed with a sticker 
that looked like a fishcake; Akane's name was written on it in purple 
ink, in rounded, bubbly script.  
  
	"Dear Akane - 
Please meet me on the roof at lunchtime, if it is convenient.  
Your friend, Ranko."  

      A big-eyed smiley-face followed the signature, making the 
situation seem oddly surreal to Akane.  The roof?  Why the roof?  It 
wasn't exactly off-limits, but then again, it also wasn't the sort of 
place Akane liked to eat lunch, being barren of all but the school's 
air conditioning units.  
      But despite the humble wording of the note, Akane could almost 
see the urgency behind it.  Her suspicions that this was no ordinary 
lunch date seemed to be confirmed by the fact that Ranko refused to 
meet her eyes in the classroom, burying her nose with apparent 
fascination inside her English textbook.
      The meal the night previous had been a strange affair.  Despite 
her protestations, Ranko had greeted the great sukiyaki pot with a 
look of pure wonder, and had watched raptly as Kasumi cooked the thin-
sliced meat and vegetables before her very eyes, gasping with delight 
at the clouds of steam as sake was poured over all; her eyes never 
left the food as Kasumi dished it up onto a communal platter.  Yet the 
Saotomes had all taken miniscule portions - a single slice of beef 
apiece, with one or two pieces of each of the vegetables, and only 
half a bowl of rice.  It was only after Kasumi noted that a great deal 
of the food would likely go to waste that they allowed themselves 
seconds, and had Kasumi not taken the initiative to serve them 
herself, they might well have continued their miserly ways.  Akane 
noted, however, that there was not a speck of food left in their bowls 
when the meal was completed, so it could not have been lack of 
appetite.  Once or twice during the meal, Akane caught a strange look 
from Nodoka, watching her daughters eat - somewhere between pride and 
regret, overlaid with stubborn stoicism.  The guests had left almost 
immediately following dinner, parting formally, though Nodoka promised 
they would visit again soon.  Ranko seemed unusually subdued at 
parting, as well, though she sent Akane a brief, wistful smile that 
confirmed the friendship they had begun.
      And so at lunchtime, Akane found herself standing on the rooftop 
with a bento box of leftover sukiyaki and rice, wondering where on 
earth she was going to sit.
      "Thank you for coming, Akane."  Ranko's voice came from the 
stairwell behind her, and Akane turned with relief, charged with an 
almost fearful fascination.
      "Hi, Ranko.  What's going on?"
      "Oh, nothing."  The other girl's cheeks were bright red, belying 
her nonchalant words; her voice trembled slightly.  "Shall we eat?"
      Akane wanted to say no, to force Ranko to get to the point, but 
instead she found herself gingerly seating herself on the sun-warmed 
(but thankfully not too hot) concrete of the roof as if she normally 
ate her lunch on a bed of gravel.  Ranko sat opposite her, and they 
ate in silence for some time.
      "Mother says you're something of a tomboy." Ranko's voice was 
conversational, but timid.
      Stung, Akane replied, "Oh, she does?"
      Ranko waved her hand calmingly.  "Oh, not in a bad way, really.  
I was kind of thinking the same thing myself."  She picked at her 
rice, and silence reigned for another long moment.  "Akane, remember 
how we were talking about secrets?"
      "Yes...?"
      "Really big secrets?"
      "Yes...?" Akane repeated patiently.
      "Well, I've... I've got this... really big secret."
      This was like pulling teeth from a water buffalo.  "And...?"
      "And, well... can you keep a secret?"
      "I think so."  How long was this going to take?
      "A really really big secret?"
      Akane let out an exasperated whoosh of breath.  "Are you going to 
tell me or not?"
      "Well, yes, but you've got to promise..."
      "Never to tell?"  Akane's voice gentled.  "I promise."
      "Cross your heart?"
      "Cross my heart."  Akane suited actions to words.
      "And you have to promise..." Ranko stood up, closing her eyes as 
if against the sun.  "Promise you won't get mad."
      "Why would I get mad?"
      "Promise?"
      "Okay, I promise.  Cross my heart.  Now, what's the secret?"
      "Akane, I'm not who you think I am."
      That gave Akane pause; she watched Ranko blankly as she struggled 
with her voice.
      "I'm not... I'm not..."
      "Yes?" Not a Saotome? Not sixteen years old? Not Japanese? 
      Ranko mumbled something under her breath.
      "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that..." Akane began.
      "I'M NOT A GIRL!"  
      Ranko's shout took both of them by surprise, and they stared at 
each other as a tribe of pigeons nesting near the air conditioner 
equipment grumpily took flight.
      Akane swallowed deliberately.  "What did you just say?"
      Ranko stared at the ground.  "I said, I'm not a girl.  What I 
mean is, well... I'm really a boy."
      "A boy."  Akane's gaze traveled of its own volition across 
Ranko's neat, feminine posture, her sinfully long hair, her polished 
fingernails.
      Her big hands and feet.  Her wide face and shoulders.  And the 
earnest, beseeching expression on her mobile face... She could feel 
her own mouth gaping open, and she said the first thing that came to 
mind.
      "You can't be a boy.  I hate boys."
      "But I am.  Look, if you don't believe me, I'll show you..." 
Ranko began to unbutton her blouse.
      "Hey, what are you doing?"  Oh no, Ranko was one of those girls 
who liked other girls, this was all some ploy to get to Akane... "Stop 
that!"  Akane made a grab for Ranko's hands.
      Ranko pulled away. She was down to her bra now.  "You won't 
believe me unless I do." 
      "Believe you?  Of course I don't believe you! How could such a 
thing be..."  Akane stared in shock at the chest before her.  The 
patently stuffed bra had fallen away to reveal a chest that was most 
assuredly lacking in breasts. "...true."  Ranko stood up straight, 
face crimson, as Akane leaned the barest bit forward, just to make 
sure. "Oh, my."
      "Now do you believe me?"
      Akane nodded, watching speechlessly as Ranko refastened the 
dangling bra and began work on the buttons.  This was beyond 
unexpected.  This was... this was just insane.
      "You're mad, aren't you."  Ranko's voice was small and pathetic, 
and Akane automatically responded to her - HIS - misery with comfort.
      "No, of course I'm not mad.  Just... surprised."  Now THAT was an 
understatement.
      "You probably think I'm some kind of pervert, don't you?"  Ranko 
seemed to be edging towards hysteria.
      "Well, I..."
      "I'm not a pervert!"
      "I didn't say you were..." Akane soothed.
      Ranko fell silent, chest heaving with sobbing breaths.  Akane 
stood uncomfortably, wondering what she could do.  Put her arm around 
him?  Maybe when she thought Ranko was a girl, but now...? As she 
wavered, Ranko wrapped his arms around himself, letting his hair fall 
down over his face.
      "This was a mistake," he said quietly.  "Just forget it."  
      How could she forget something like this?  Akane reached out and 
set her hand on Ranko's shoulder.  "It's... it's okay.  You're 
still... my friend."
      "Really?"  The note of hope in Ranko's voice was heart-wrenching.
      "Really."
      "And you'll still teach me kempo?"
      "Of... of course."
      "Th... thank you."  Ranko sniffled and buried his head in Akane's 
shoulder; she patted at Ranko's back uncomfortably. 
      "Ranko?"
      "Yes, Akane?"  Ranko stepped back nervously.
      "Um... why?"  There should be more to the question than that; her 
hand gestured vaguely in front of her, but she couldn't find any more 
words.  "Why?" she repeated.
      Ranko walked slowly over to the edge of the roof and stared down 
at the students in the schoolyard. "Mother made a solemn vow.  On the 
Saotome family sword.  Mother... well, she's proud.  Proud and 
honorable.  She thinks if I'm not a woman among women, her vow is 
broken.  And if that happens..."
      Akane shivered at her tone.  "If that happens...?"
      "We have to die."
      There were no words to reply to that; Akane stared and stared, 
until she felt her eyes might fall out.  Finally, Ranko turned.
      "But Akane, I'm sixteen years old.  I can't live my whole life 
like this, knowing I'm a fake."  He stepped forward, seizing up 
Akane's hands.  "That's why I need you."
      Akane resisted the urge to tear her hands away, to run down the 
steps and away from this farce. "Me?"
      "Yes, you.  Akane..."  Ranko's eyes were fierce.  "...I don't 
know how to do it.  How to be a boy.  I was wondering... well, if 
you're not too busy... maybe you could help me?"
      "But... your mother..."
      "Let me worry about her, Akane.  I've been thinking about this 
for years.  I have to do it.  Please, won't you help me?"
      She should refuse, she should just walk away from all of this - 
but there was true desperation in Ranko's eyes, and almost against her 
will, she nodded.
      "You will?  Oh, Akane!  I'm so glad you're a tomboy!"  Ranko 
bounced with glee in a most un-boylike way, clapping his hands 
together.  
      "Gee, thanks... I think."

END PART 1