Disclaimer:

All characters of the Ranma ½ Universe courtesy Rumiko Takahashi and her fantastically brilliant mind. Hooray for people (like the goddess artist of Ranma herself) with imagination, just so we can have a blast and say "Water Fun!" and think of some random Japanese guy who wears Chinese clothes, a pigtail, and turns into a girl.

Just add cold water!

And now, without further ado (I just love making myself sound so important)…

"The Sound of Silence"

by Rain

"Stop dancing around like a moron, and HIT me!!"

Akane is breathing heavily, her signature yellow gi soaked with sweat from exertion. Ranma stands opposite her, in his usual casual stance, hardly even breathing out of rhythm, an unreadable expression on his face. At the moment, Akane is too upset to pay it any mind.

We're always like this, the two of us. Quite a pair, ne? The entertainment factor is enough to keep the others around here amused, that is. But they don't see the side we work together to keep hidden from them. Ironically, that's probably the one thing we've got a silent agreement on.

She storms off and I find myself left with a sense of strong déjà-vu and a bit of loneliness I hadn't been expecting. Strange, I thought by now I had trained myself to ignore that part of me. Instead, I find myself thinking about our relationship. Contrary to popular belief, we are in one, and a serious one at that, no matter what other people think they see.

My thoughts then travel down another well-worn path.

Are things always going to be this way? Am I ever going to stop being a spineless fool and admit that even the slightest inclination, any hint of the thought that I'd have to face a single day without seeing her smile… Hell, the days I make her angry – almost out of habit now more than anything else, as much as it ticks me off to admit that – it's bad enough I'm just as stubborn as she is, and that makes it all the worse when she won't look at me.

But in remembering what happened earlier today, as I lie on my futon staring at the ceiling late that night, trying to coax myself to sleep, I'm only keeping myself the wider awake.

When I think about it, I really only have that one fear. And it's not because I don't think Akane can take care of herself, she's perfectly capable of that. It's more, I guess, the fear of that capability. The fear that one day, just like she always yells at me, she won't need me anymore. That day when she doesn't need me to protect her anymore scares the hell out of me. She's too strong-willed for it to not come eventually, and a small part of me that I keep buried deep inside is dreading it with the passing of each day that leads up to it.

I try not to think about it too much, though. Because then I'm reminded again of that fear.

A small noise somewhere else in the house snaps me out of it for a minute, when I decide since I'm up I might as well do some kata. There's no way I can see myself getting any sleep tonight. And I spend more nights this way than I'd care to admit.

It's pitch black in the house and I try and feel my way along the walls, through the kitchen to the dojo. But before I even reach the kitchen, halfway through the dining room I hear a noise and nearly have a heart attack. Normally I'm not nearly so jumpy, but when I'm… let's just say preoccupied… I tend to get a bit nervy, almost like I think someone, besides you that is, can hear all this. Crazy, isn't it?

I turn to see where the sound came from to find myself looking down at a sleeping Akane. I turn back to go up to my room again; I don't want her to wake up and mallet me straight to hell for breathing too loudly, although that would put me out for the night… So I inch my way to the hall…

Akane stirs and makes a little "hum" sound and I nearly jump a mile. I turn around instead, and there she is, about to nod off again, sitting at the low dinner table where she'd been watching TV earlier. No doubt one of her obsessive horror movie specials; her fascination with those is masochistic, I swear. The TV's volume is so low I hardly had even registered the sound before she caught my attention.

Honestly, you'd think I'd be a bit more alert when I'm so jumpy.

"Akane…?" Maybe she fell back to sleep, I can't tell from here, it's pretty dark. I wonder vaguely what time it is.

"Mmmwhatimeizzit."

How a girl can manage to be so attractive in the lowest stages of consciousness, the Kami only know. It must be some art that only females possess; I'm not even sure Akane is aware of it, because if she could read the thoughts that are floating through my mind right now I'd be in LEO as of three seconds past.

"It's late." I stop, and think it over for a second. "Or early. I sort of lost track somewhere."

She makes this soft, quiet, enticing little purring noise which I can only assume was meant as a reply of some fashion. She really does look sleepy.

I walk over to her and kneel down beside her small frame, running a hand over her forehead, pushing her slightly mussed up bangs out of her half-lidded eyes. Unconsciously, she leans into my hand, mumbling again to me softly.

"Hmmm… Your hand is warm," I manage to make out from where her mouth and cute, little girl nose are buried in the crook of her arm.

But whatever that little noise was supposed to be, it makes a little tingling feeling crawl up my spine and stop at the back of my neck. I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding, and suddenly the skin of her cheek and the silk feel of her hair seem to warm me from the tips of the fingers that are barely touching her all the way down to my toes.

"Come on, Akane. Time for bed."

"Mmm" was all she said.

With practiced ease I slip one hand under the bend in her knee and the other behind her neck as I move one of my bent legs under her, drawing her small form nearer to me as I stand gingerly and make my way slowly up the stairs, subconsciously skipping the third, which always creaks. She sleepily snuggles into me, cuddling her face into my shoulder, grabbing my shirt in tiny fistfuls and I can't help wishing she was half-asleep all the time. She's dozed off again, I think.

The time that passes between the stairs and the door – the door with the same old wooden duck name plate with the English letters swinging that I have stared at countless times, trying to work up the courage to talk to her after I predictably stuck my foot in my mouth for some reason or another – is a blur as I try to concentrate on placing one foot in front of the other and not get distracted by how well we seem to fit together; how after this my shirt is going to smell like her. Like some kind of jasmine, or maybe lavender; a bit of shampoo, and general "girl," I don't know what else to call that distinctive scent.

All I know is all of a sudden there I am next to her bed, still cradling her slumbering form in my arms, wondering – somewhere in that tiny fraction of my mind that isn't vacationing elsewhere with thoughts of her – vaguely how I managed to get the door open.

I lower her gently to the bed, her hair sliding from me to the pillow in midnight-blue tufts. Even though she's lying on the covers now, she's still got her hands tangled behind my neck where she had laced them as I carried her. And so here I find myself, a bit, well, stuck, my one hand still under her knee, the other absentmindedly stroking hair out of her eyes.

Leaning over her this way, watching her sleep, I'm reminded of the day I fell for her.

I warn you, there wasn't anything tremendously special about that particular day, or how it came about. I don't even recall what day it was. It must have been in that short span of time between late-winter and almost-spring; it was that kind of rain shower that day.

I was walking back from Tofu-sensei's clinic (you can guess which headstrong, hot-tempered tomboy put me there in the first place, I'm sure) in a rather low mood, with the prospect of the curse rearing its ugly head on my long walk home. I had just stepped out from under the eaves from a corner shop (I had avoided the rain under sporadic awnings for about a block so far, luckily) and when I came around the corner, there she was.

Standing so prettily about seven feet straight ahead, under the umbrella she was holding, looking at me with a rather blank face. I would have thought she was still angry if her eyes hadn't given her away, pleading quietly with me under the veil of soft pattering that for some reason, now, didn't sound so unwelcome. She was there.

Despite whatever ridiculous, pointless spat we had had before, she was there, silently inviting me to join her in a dry walk home. Home, I realized, was what she had made it for me.

It was then that I fell in love with her.

I guess it was hidden there for a long time, going unnoticed by the both of us, growing into what washed over me in waves at that moment. It wasn't anything earth-shattering, really, excluding how refreshingly warm and complete I suddenly felt; no. It was more like an unexpected slap to the back of the head and an irritated reminder, like "Hey, wake up, baka, and look around!" Provoking, naturally, an eloquent reaction that I chose that moment to blurt out: "Oh."

Akane wasn't fazed; she simply extended her arm expectantly, still with the passive face with and smiling eyes, beckoning me to her side, which I then realized I never wanted to leave anyway. It was only when the smile in her eyes spread to the rest of her face, as I took her arm under the umbrella, that I actually thought there was a chance the feeling was mutual.

Like I said before, it would've looked pretty bland to you if you had seen it. But Akane and I, I know now, have an unspoken language, communicated through small exchanges and tiny glances; small signs of caring we don't expect you to understand.

And no matter how many times we deny it, all it takes is a quick flick of the eyes to restore that secret trust again. It's the one thing we can find in the other to lean on, though neither of us would admit that we need it. That's all right for now, though. I plan on spending the rest of my life with this woman, no matter how we come about it.

I smile down at her, tracing the graceful line of her jaw from her small, pert chin up to her temple, pushing her hair back again and lightly brushing my lips against her forehead. Did I imagine it, or did her eyelashes flutter slightly?

I slide her hands from around me down to her sides, covering her with the sheets, watching her chest rise and fall with a soothing, even rhythm.

I am at the door, and just as I was thinking of turning back to look as I left, she makes that purring sound again.

She was awake, to some degree at least, the entire time. I freeze.

"Ranma." That wasn't I question, I'm sure.

"Yeah."

"That was nice. Even if it was only on… my… forehead…" She's fallen asleep again.

I smile at everything and nothing in particular as I close the door behind me.

The Beginning?

The End?

Take Your Pick, I Won't Bite.

^_~

Author's Notes:

Sooo… This is what comes out of my head in the time vortex between 1:03am and 3:17am on a Friday night (no wait, on a Saturday morning). OOC? Bring it on, I dare you! Do your worst! If you honestly think so, let me know, but as I mentioned at the end of my other fic, you've got to step outside yourself (in this case that "you" is Ranma) to put your feelings in perspective.

C&C (or R&R) are very much appreciated. No flames, please, thank you. Although I could always use them to accompany my obsession with having millions of candles burning while I write… hmm. (I know, I'm such a pryo.) Contact me at [email protected]. And no, I am not a creepy old man; I'm actually a teenage girl. It's a joke with a friend ^_~

I thought I'd give a one-perspective fic a try, after my attempts at the multiple-POV fic, "The Better Half," which turned out better than I could have ever hoped. Thank you all for your time, your reviews and your opinions. They are very much enjoyed and greatly appreciated.

Thanks to you all, and keep up your work! I read way too much of your stuff, and never tire of it!

Until the next time.

::Rain