Some distance away now, Ranma and Ranko moved steadily towards the coast. They were taking a route that avoided the comforts of society. They had spoken little, Ranko respecting Ranma's obvious discomfort, and his apparent desire to obtain considerable distance, though whether from the site of his cursing, or from his father, she was not certain. She was fairly certain that Ranma's avoidance of the roads, and the way they kept turning aside to avoid the lights of the small towns they passed, was due to his desire to avoid his father.
She had his memories, and so knew well that after an event such as that which had just befallen them, Genma would be in search of sake, as much as trying to find them, and by avoiding the locations where he could obtain sake, they increased the chances that he would give up on them, or lose their trail, or at least be delayed by trips to obtain his comfort.
When the sun disappeared in the distance, and the sky began to darken, Ranma searched out a clearing. His moves were practiced, and required no conscious direction, as he was well used to setting up his tent. They did not always use them, sometimes choosing to sleep out under the stars . . . but generally they did use them, as Genma was not one to chance the discomfort of sleeping outside should rain come upon them in the night.
It was only as he finished, that he realized the deeper implications of having left his father's pack behind. There was only the one tent, and there were two of them.
"Uh . . . I . . . I'll sleep out here," Ranma said nervously, "You can have the tent, Ranko." He did not wait for a response, being still overly nervous about speaking to his beautiful companion, and instead, hurried into the forest to begin collecting dry wood to make a fire.
Ranko's eyes followed his departure, and she grinned inwardly. It was sweet of him to offer his tent, though she would rather have shared it with him. Still, she knew better than to try to move too quickly with him. Her best bet was the Neko-ken, in which his inhibitions, if what Fey had said held true, would be reduced.
She needed to avoid scaring him off, and at the same time, she had to make sure he did not succeed with what he was trying to do, which was, she felt sure, to see her as a buddy, as one of the guys. She wasn't sure she'd be able to overcome it if he managed to start thinking of her as a buddy, or even as a sister. She needed to make sure that he was never in any doubt that she was a beautiful and desirable woman while still not scaring him off.
When Ranma returned to the clearing, a fair stack of dry branches in his arms, he was treated to the sight of Ranko, near the tent, stretching her arms back over her head. The thought that this might be a deliberate action on her part went over his oblivious head but that did not keep him from noticing her full breasts, straining at the shirt, or the curve of her neck, the slim lines of her arms . . . Ranko grinned to herself as she watched Ranma's reaction out of the corner of her eye, and slowly released her stretch, before turning to face him.
"Oh, Ranma, you're back," she exclaimed, as if she had just seen him.
He was startled out of his daze by her words, and flushed, as he realized he had been staring. Avoiding her eyes, he moved to quickly prepare the fire. He built up the sticks in a careful arrangement, designed to burn slowly and evenly, that reflected his long experience, but when he turned to his pack to get flint and steel, Ranko put her hand on his arm.
"Let me," she said, and turned to the fire. Ranma felt the heat rise to his cheeks at the touch of her warm hand on her arm, and hoped that she did not notice. Of course, his hope was unfounded, as she had indeed noted his response, which was exactly what she had hoped it would be. She turned her head slightly to hide her smile of satisfaction. She pointed at the sticks and a small flame appeared in the center of them, catching the wood, and growing stronger.
He was, as she expected, oblivious to her interest in him, and did not recognize anything that she did as meant to entice him; nonetheless, his body knew and reacted.
After they had eaten, they sat staring at the fire as it slowly died. Ranko sighed softly, taking Ranma's continued silence to mean that he was not going to overcome his nervousness at speaking with a girl unless she forced it.
"Ranma, about tomorrow," Ranko began, then paused to force Ranma to respond.
He looked up, eyes widening as he was struck by the gleam of the fading firelight in her eyes. "Yes, Ranko?"
"I . . . I kinda get the feeling you'd rather travel for a while, before we take time for training, right?"
Ranma looked down at his hands, and sighed. "Yeah . . . Genma's likely to be after us, so I wanna try and get ahead of him." He looked up at her, his face holding a vaguely questioning look, "I figure . . . I know Fey said we didn't need to try and push to get to Japan, but I figure, we push hard for a couple of days, it'll get us beyond Genma, and he'll be slowed down cause he'll be askin' in all the towns after us, and not hearin' nothing. 'Sides, he'll probably get drunk when he doesn't pick up the trail right off. I reckon that day after tomorrow we can train a bit in the morning, and then spend most of the next day trainin'."
He fell silent, realizing that it was the most he'd said to her since she'd been . . . awakened. He felt nervous and embarrassed trying to explain his reasoning. After all, it was probably all backwards anyway . . . he knew he wasn't any great shakes mentally, and Fey had told them not to push too fast, and told them to train hard. He looked down at his hands, not wanting to see her reaction, but sure she was going to object.
"That sounds reasonable, and it's about what I'd figured your plan was. I thought of something to add to it, though . . .," Ranko said, careful not to sound condescending, and pausing to again force him to respond.
"Yeah, what's that?" Ranma perked up, she hadn't shot him down . . . maybe he wasn't as stupid as he sometimes thought.
"Well, Fey put particular emphasis on training with the Neko-ken, right?" Again, Ranko deliberately paused, though her question had really been rhetorical, and she certainly could have already said all she had to say without waiting for his input. She wanted him to become comfortable with speaking to her, to see that she wouldn't ridicule him, and to build up his confidence in personal relations.
"Yeah, he did. But I really want to get some distance, first . . .," Ranma was a little more uncertain now. It sounded like she was questioning his decision, but . . . hadn't she already said she agreed with him?
"So, I figured, why don't we invoke the Neko-ken while we're traveling? Not fight or anything, just get used to it. After all, part of the Neko-ken, as I understood his explanation, is the influence the cat-mind has on us, right?"
Ranma sat up straight, and Ranko cheered inwardly, as Ranma took a more active role in the discussion. "I see what you're gettin' at, Ranko! Learning to fight with the Neko-ken's good and all, but if we ain't used to it, the different senses and reactions could throw us off. So we focus on them first, till we get used to 'em, right?"
"Exactly," replied Ranko happily, gratified at this evidence that Genma's foolishness had only hampered Ranma's knowledge, not his intellect.
"That makes good sense, Ranko," Ranma said, nodding. Fey, watching from a distance, smiled to himself.
"That's a good sign," he soliloquized, "Ranma has not been infected by Genma's belief in the uselessness of the advice of women. And Ranko clearly has a good head on her shoulders." He had been surprised to discover that the spirit of the spring had been a magic-user, but it was all to the good for his plan. After all, according to his understanding, in the world Dr. Gero had come from, while magic existed, it was generally not used to attack, but on a grander scale, that of wishes. Ranko was a wildcard, an unplanned and unknown element, even to him, and Fey decided that that was quite appropriate. After all, if Dr. Gero was representing the forces of Order, and Fey, acting as the counter- balance, was representing Chaos in this instance, it only made sense for his plan to include chaotic elements whose influence not even he could predict.
Ranko was staring at the dying fire when a sudden thought hit her. Sure they had only one tent, and Ranma had offered it to her . . . but didn't that mean that he had only the one bedroll, as well? If he didn't even have a bedroll, surely he couldn't sleep outside . . .
It took nearly fifteen minutes of arguing, but eventually, a very nervous Ranma entered the tent, and slid into the bedroll beside Ranko. To her credit, she restrained her desires, only heightened by his bare chest, though he had chosen to wear a pair of black pants to bed. They went to sleep facing away from each other.
Ranma woke first with a jerk and shiver, as in his dream Genma threw him in an icy cold stream. He realized that the cold was not imaginary, and as the fog of sleep slowly cleared, he realized that Ranko had just turned over, drawing the blankets off of him. He also realized with a sudden rush of sweat, that he could still feel the slowly fading warmth of her form where it had been pressed against his back. He shivered, both at the cold, and in concern over what would have happened had she awoken in such a position.
He slid off the bedroll, and out of the tent. He moved to his pack, and pulled out a shirt, pulling it on over his head. They were going to be traveling today, so there was no reason to wear his gi. As he thought about this, he realized that Ranko had only the one set of clothing. Fey had probably planned for Ranma to buy her some more, and some supplies, with that yuan he'd given Ranma, but he'd been absorbed by his need to get away from his father, and had forgotten to consider her needs.
Ranma felt a sudden wash of shame, as he realized that in point of fact, he'd forgotten the need to get supplies for her because he'd been deliberately avoiding thinking about her ever since they left. Sure, he might be uncomfortable around her, but that was no excuse to ignore her needs.
"Damnit," he muttered, "I shoulda gone by and got supplies for her. I am such a jerk."
Fey, discreetly observing the pair, heard his comment, and realized that indeed, Ranma had not thought to provide for Ranko's needs. Well, the reasons he and Ranko had discussed the night before for not following Fey's advice to the letter seemed sound enough, and implied the need to avoid towns, so perhaps Fey should intervene. After all, it wouldn't do to allow Genma to find them. Then again, his avatar did need to learn to plan, and a confrontation with Genma might actually be worthwhile, as long as it happened after enough time had passed for Ranma to gain a little more confidence in himself. Perhaps it would be best to wait and see if Ranma managed to come up with a solution. He could intervene if it looked like Ranma wouldn't come up with anything.
Ranma looked back at the tent then loped into the forest. He returned in short order, and prepared a new fire. Not wanting to wake his sleeping companion, Ranma thought back to what she'd done the previous day to light the fire. His incredible memory for fights and the arts kicked in, as he analyzed what she'd done. It availed little. He tried hard, but was unable to replicate her feat, and set about lighting the fire in the traditional manner, with flint and steel.
Ranko awoke to the smell of tea, and exited the tent, still dressed in the red shirt and black pants Fey had given her. She carefully positioned herself where Ranma could not help but notice, and stretched the morning kinks from her muscles. She felt his eyes upon her, roving over her taut form. She finished her stretching and padded over to the fire, dropping easily to sit near Ranma, gratefully accepting the metal cup of tea he handed her. She held it in both hands, letting the warmth seep into her palms, inhaled the aroma, then drank deeply of the green tea.
She smirked inwardly, as she watched Ranma set his cup down after finishing it off. She hadn't told Ranma quite all of her plan . . . Ranko embraced her cat soul, and immediately let out a loud meow. She giggled at Ranma, who was instantly across the clearing and up a tree, crouching on a branch, before his will caught up with his reflexes, and he yowled back at her, dropping to the ground, landing easily on his feet.
"What was that for?" Ranma demanded, then blinked in surprise at the sound of his own voice, and the rolling r's.
Ranko finished off her tea and stood, stalking over to him. "Simple, Ranma. If the Neko-ken is to be useful, then embracing it must be your reflex, not fleeing. You've already built up that reflex, and it's going to take some time to replace it. I was thinking that every so often, we should part for a while, drop the Neko-ken, come back together, and travel for a time. One or the other of us should re-embrace it, when it's least expected, after our guard has dropped again. That way, we'll use each other to build up the correct reflex."
Ranma nodded, then asked, "We have to separate to drop it, or the first to drop it would have to re-embrace because there's still a cat present, right?"
"Yeah, basically."
"Hmm . . . I dunno, I think maybe we ought to work on trying to stay together . . . if we can suppress the fear for just that long, that'd be better than having to get out of each other's sight to drop it."
Ranko flashed a wide smile at Ranma, leaving him suddenly breathless. He was really thinking this through, and it just made him that much more desirable to her. "Sure, that makes sense. I guess we can try it, anyway."
As they cleaned up from breakfast, Ranma thought about his waking realization, and came to a decision. Stopping Ranko, he handed her the roll of yuan that Fey had given him. "There ain't much we need, Ranko, but the next town we come to, you're gonna go in, and get you some clothes, a backpack, and if you can, a tent and bedroll."
"Why are you giving me the money?"
"Simple. Oyagi's gonna be looking for a black-haired Japanese boy. He might look for someone with your description, since he knows I was cursed, but when he learns you spoke Chinese and are an Amazon, he'll know it ain't me. We gotta get you some supplies, but I don't wanna leave him any clues I don't gotta, so I'm gonna wait in the woods for ya."
Ranko grinned and nodded happily. There were several good aspects to this development. Not only would she get some clothes . . . though she wouldn't look too hard for a tent or bedroll, sleeping pressed up against his hard body was just too good to pass up, even if it meant letting him fall asleep first . . . but Ranma was trusting her to do this alone, showing that he respected both her intelligence, to handle the money and the deals, and her strength, to defend herself should anything happen.
She knew, from Ranma's memories, all the bile that Genma had spewed at Ranma about women, and how useless and weak they were, and she found it strongly mirrored what she'd been told as a child about the attitude of outsiders, and she was inordinately gratified to see that her Ranma did not share such a disposition.