The early-morning battles with Akane have disappeared for some reason. 
Ranma, Akane, and I happen to arrive at about the same time, and I enter
the gate only a few paces behind them.  They walk together, quite
closely, although they do not touch one another or give any outward sign
of affection.  I feel a surge of jealousy, which I try to quell.  She is
his fiance�; she has the right.  It does no good, and I drift after
them, an envious shadow.

	School goes well for me today--I feel calm and, despite Ranma's
nearness, quite focused.  Ranma has more difficulty.  He slumps at his
desk, every muscle and sinew conveying the message that the teacher's
narration is irrelevant and unutterably dull.  Occasionally his eyes
glaze over and his head begins to droop, at which point the teacher
stops lecturing, takes an eraser from the blackboard, and fires it with
considerable accuracy at Ranma's forehead.   The class snickers, Akane
frowns in irritation, but Ranma only shakes himself off and goes back to
not particularly listening.  His forbearance is amazing--I don't think I
could take such treatement without losing my temper.

	On the other hand, he's not learning an awful lot.  We have a biology
quiz, which I finish quickly--I am already quite familiar with
maladaptive genes and Darwinian selection.  Handing in the paper, I
notice that while most of the rest of the class is working steadily,
Ranma is frowning at his test without marking it.  When the teacher
calls in the last stragglers, Ranma writes quickly for a moment, then
passes his paper in with a resigned expression.  I am reminded of a
particularly uncoordinated girl who wanted to join the St. Hebereke team
but could not master the use of the ribbon.  Time and time again she
would tie her ankles together and fall on her face, and in the split
second after she felt her ankles lock, her face would get this look--a
combination of vexation and good-humored acceptance.     

	She eventually bumped into me during one evening's practice.  I gave
her an earful of abuse and sent her crying into the night.  She never
came back.

	I hated that girl at that moment--hated her fervently, passionately.  I
could have screamed at her for hours.  I could have beaten her
senseless.  I accused her of deliberate sabotage, of being a plant by
some rival school, of trying to cripple me.  I rode my hate like a
whirlwind, billowing higher and higher until she ran away.  Ever after
that night, I would glare at her if we happened to meet in the halls.  

	An eraser strikes my forehead and rebounds away.  I look up at the
teacher, shocked and angry.  For a long, timeless moment, our eyes lock
together, then I remember myself and look down and away.

	No one snickers.  The class is silent; Ranma and Akane watch me
strangely.



	I am eating lunch alone when Nabiki approaches me.  She favors me with
a lazy look, then folds herself onto the bench across from me.

	"Hello, Kodachi," she says.

	"Good day to you, upperclasswoman Tendo," I respond evenly.

	"So how's your brother?"  She smiles slightly, a small twitch of the
lips.  "He hasn't been back to school."

	"No, he won't be."  I refuse to share my family secrets with this
person.  An idea strikes me.  "He'll be studying abroad."

	An eyebrow slides up her face.  "Really?  Where?"

	"France."  Why not?  I look at her blandly.

	She nods slightly, her face retaining the same lazy look. 
"Interesting.  Your brother breaks his arm, then he goes to France." 
Implying, I suppose, that I am lying.  

	I shrug.  The bitch can think what she likes.  "Did you want something,
Upperclasswoman Tendo?"

	She tosses something onto the table.  A photo.  Ranma.  My breath
catches in my throat.  He's taking a bath.  He's turned partly away, and
the photo shows little more than his shoulder and back, but he . . .

	I look away, up at Nabiki, trying to still the pounding in my chest. 
She is smiling openly now, but her eyes watch me sharply.

	"I don't want it."

	"Oh, you're lying!"  She sounds delighted, as if it were a particularly
endearing trick I had just learned.  "My dear Kodachi, I've seen you
look at him.  You practically wet yourself.  This picture nearly gave
you a heart attack.  Don't tell me you don't want it."

	"Very well, I do want it.  But I won't buy it."  I lift my chin,
watching her.

	She unfolds herself and stands.  "Keep it.  It's yours.  I have plenty
more." She smiles again, and turns away.  "Plenty better."  She saunters
off, leaving me alone with Ranma's image.

	Bait, no doubt.  I run my finger over the photo, down Ranma's back.  I
should just throw it away.  I don't want to be caught into whatever game
she's playing, but, he's so . . .

 	I move to tear the photo in half, but it puts itself in my bookbag.



	I can no longer concentrate in class at all, and keep glancing over at
Ranma.  Once, he happens to glance back, and I look down, burning
hotly.  The memory of the photo sits in my mind, and I feel the urge to
fling myself on Ranma, here in class, in front of Akane and everyone
else.  Only the knowlege that I would look an utter fool keeps me in my
seat.

	The day is a long, slow torture, but it finally ends.  The class stands
and files out with poorly hidden eagerness.  As Ranma leaves, he glances
back at me, and I overhear him say, "Whassa matter with Kodachi?"

	Akane's reply is tart and to the point.  "She likes you, you idiot."

	As the last student leaves, I gather my things and stand up.  The
teacher looks at me curiously.  "Are you all right, Miss Kuno?"

	"Yes, I'm fine.  I just had a slight . . ." I wave my hand vaguely.

	"Crush?"

	I redden again, answering the question more honestly than I would
like.  I leave the classroom, head down.

	Walking quickly, I make my way toward the school gates.  There's some
sort of disturbance outside, shouting and noise, but I am more concerned
with trying not to think of the photo, or of Ranma.  Arriving at the
gates, I find my way blocked by a throng of students, all watching or
trying to watch something I cannot see.

	More shouting, then Ranma's voice.  I try to push through the crowd,
which complains but will not part.  Briefly I consider pulling out my
ribbon and lashing it open, but settle for leaping up on the wall.  

	Ranma is outside the gates, and so is another boy, one with a backpack
and a folded parasol which he waves about threateningly.  Suddenly he
roars and charges like a rhino.  The crowd lets out a collective gasp as
the two begin to fight.

	"What's going on?" I call as the two battle.  I might as well be lichen
for all the attention I am paid.  Spotting Akane near the front of the
crowd, I hop down from the wall and make my way over to her.  Surely
she'll know what's going on.

	"I don't know what's going on," she says.  

	"No?"

	"No.  All I know is Ryoga--his name's Ryoga--showed up and started
threatening Ranma.  My idiot fianc� thought it was about bread.  Can you
believe that?  As if somebody would come all this way just because he
didn't get the last piece of bread."

	"Well, what is it about?"

	"I told you--I don't know."

	Ranma floats around Ryoga, avoiding or blocking his blows and darting
in to strike when the boy's guard slips.  Ryoga compensates by flinging
weighted bandannas which whistle dangerously through the air, keeping
Ranma away.  Despite an occasional heavy, well placed blow, neither can
gain the upper hand.  	

	"It's probably Ranma's fault anyway," grumbles Akane.  I look over at
her, but she seems to be talking to herself.  "Stupid perverted creep.  
Moron.  Jerk.  Jackass."

	"You don't like him?"

	She flashes an irritated look at me.  "What's to like?"

	What isn't?  "Can I have him?"
	
	She looks at me blankly for a moment, then, sighing, turns her gaze
back to the fight. "I don't care what Ranma does," she says slowly. 
"But--LOOK OUT!"

	 I turn my head.  One of Ryoga's bandannas is speeding toward me,
buzzing like a yellowjacket.  It will strike me between the eyes if I do
not move, but I--I can't.  Too fast, it's all too fast, and--

	And I am shoved from the side, hard.  The bandanna stings my ear
sharply as it passes, leaving a lingering whistle.  I tumble to the
ground, with Akane on top of me.  I touch my ear and stare at the blood
on my fingertips as Akane disentangles herself from me and stands up.

	"I'm sorry!" blurts Ryoga, skidding to a stop next to us.  "I didn't
mean to I'm sorry please forgive me!"

	"Stuff off," I snap, climbing to my feet.  I touch my still-ringing
head again and realize my sidetail is missing.  "Where's the rest of
me?"

	Wordlessly, Akane points at the ground.  A sad, mangled ribbon lies
there, surrounded by tufts of hair. I glare at Ryoga, who cringes. 

	"You're not mad, are you?" he says.

	Mad?  Am I mad?  He wants to know if I'm mad?  I'll tell him if I'm
mad.  I step forward angrily.  He steps back and collides with Ranma,
who has only now arrived at the shearing.  

	Oh dear.  I don't want to scream like a harpy in front of Ranma. I
choke back my anger and try to calm myself.

	"You okay?" asks Ranma.  "You're bleedin'."

	"I . . . I think so." I finger my ear, glaring at Ryoga.  "Could you
look at it for me?"

	He leans closer, and my breath quickens.  The picture.  Beads of water
on his back.  The curve of his muscles and his spine.  The voice of
Nabiki comes back to me: You practically wet yourself.

	"NO!" shouts Ryoga. He shoves Ranma away and plants himself between
us.  "I won't let you take advantage of this innocent young girl!"

	"Excuse me, please," I say, as chill as winter wind.  "This is not your
business."

	"Don't trust him, Kodachi," he says hotly.  "He's probably plotting to
sneak you off to the nurse's supply closet!"  Pointing a finger at
Ranma, he declares loudly, "I challenge you for the right to date
Kodachi!"


-- David