-*- mode:text; fill-column:79; -*-

In case it isn't obvious, most of this episode happens between pages 173 and
174 of the second tankouban ^_^

*-*

	I stare at the masked figures in exasperation.  ``Don't cry, 'tisn't
manly.''

	``We're girls!'' screams one.

	``Fuurinkan koukou no shintaisou kurabu yo!''  The rhythmic gymnastics
club, hmm?  Oh dear.

	These are all girls from my class.

	I should go make sure this Kurobara person doesn't cause more trouble,
'tis my duty as a martial artist.

	I catch up to her easily enough, drop lightly to the rooftop in front
of her.  She smiles at me, and for just a moment I'm worried, then she slides
one hand ever so lightly across my face, twining her fingers in my hair before
leaning close.

	``If you want me to stop, just say the word.''

	``The word?''  I whisper, for she is right in my face somehow looking a
lot softer, a lot less angry and twisted,

	``Safeword.''  I open my mouth to say it, for it isn't anything I'd
ever heard before, and she presses her left thumb to my lips, ``Say it and I'll
stop whatever I'm doing instantly, OK?'' I nod, ``Then we try to figure out
what I did wrong, OK?'' I nod again, ``Good.  You remember the word, right?''
She pulls her thumb off my lips, and I whisper my reply,

	``Hai.''

	I suddenly ralize that the chimney behind me is awfully convenient, as
she presses me back against it, kissing me more passionately than I had ever
imagined possible, her belly pressed to mine, her thigh pressed against my hip,
and I close my eyes almost involuntarily at the warm feeling pressing up from
the tip of my sternum.

	Suddenly, shockingly, the pressure is gone, and she breaks the kiss,
throwing me a single word before bounding off.

	``Follow.''  I obey instantly, unwilling, unable, unwanting, to resist.
She leads me about for maybe an hour, bounding from rooftop to rooftop, finally
dropping off the edge of a particularly large house's roof.  I follow her lead,
turning to face the center of the building, then stepping off so as to drop
almost straight down.  Looking down I can see her hand sticking out, probably
from a window, so I land fairly well, taking the shock of impact by bending my
knees, grab her hand to keep from falling over backwards out the window again,
and smile at her grin.

	``So beautiful.''  I have no idea how to reply to that, so I don't,
just let her pull me into the house, draw me into a hug that sends shivers down
my spine.  The feel of her hands slipping up my shirt, tugging at my tank-top
under it, almost makes me start, but I force the alarm down, unsure about what
could happen next, but, somehow, desperately wanting it to.  Quickly she has me
up in her arms, then in her lap, on a western-style bed, her hands fumbling
with the frogs on my shirt as she covers my face and neck in kisses, gently
pressing my hands down when I try to help.  She strokes her hand lightly over
my solar plexus, and I shudder at the touch, awed by the way she makes me
feel.

	I wiggle out of my shirt, the green fabric sliding off the bed onto the
floor, joined almost instantly by my cap.  While she unties the waist of my
pants, I slip my shoes off, then gasp as she slides her hand into my boxers,
stroking the sparse hair for an instant before shifting to the ties on my
ankles.  My pants land on my cap, I notice, but her face . . . so intent, so
calm, so _there_.  I make no attempt to separate the feelings coursing through
me, just wallow in them, their warmth caressing my soul.  She stretches out
next to me, her hands sliding up my sides, pressing up my undershirt, pausing,
her hands on my arms, to kiss the amazingly sensative skin of my armpit,
finally dropping my shirt onto the pile, the rough fabric of her school uniform
scraping lightly across my bare chest as she kisses me again, nibbles lightly
at the side of my chin, my throat, her tongue pressing against my neck as she
kisses me.  She sits back a little, straddling my thighs, murmors,

	``Don't stop''

	``What?''

	``I like the noises you make''  and I realize that I'd been moaning, up
until I'd stopped breathing at the touch of her teeth on my neck.  I press
myself up against her with a groan, for I can't believe the way I feel.

	``I like you''  She smiles suddenly at that, amazingly bright, and
takes another part of me in her mouth, sending an absotively indescribable
sensation slicing through my mind, and I gasp, loudly.  She continues, sucking,
nibbling _there_ her hand slipping over my solar plexus and making me shiver,
her middle finger circling my belly button for a moment while she shifts
breasts, eliciting a short, dissappointed gasp before I realize her intent.

	Her hands slide down my sides, her thumbs hooking in my boxers, and she
pulls them down, lifting herself off my thighs to slide them between her legs,
resting her head against my shoulder as she does so.  I wiggle to kick them off
once she has them past my knees, and she settles back down on top of me, a
delicious weight.

	I worry in that free moment, glorying in the feeling, that something is
wrong with me, or at least wired wrong, for I don't know why between my legs
feels so weird.  This time, too, the standard cure doesn't seem appropriate.
`If you feel something down there, there's probably something wrong.  A bath
and thourough wash will probably solve the problem, but if it doesn't tell me
about it.'  Pop's cure worked most of the time, but now I don't want it to.

	Her fingers suddenly answer why I don't want this cured, and I almost
scream.  I'd never realized humans were designed to feel like this before, and
suddenly a lot of things made a little bit more sense, but not all that many
and not much.  I feel like I'll explode if she stops, then, still stroking me,
she does something with one of her fingers, and it takes me an instant to
figure out what.

	She's slid it inside of me, and it actually is not unpleasant.  I
notice that my hips have started to rock, and realize what all those people in
the dramas are doing, moaning as she slides her finger a little deeper,
stroking that part even harder.

	Suddenly the pressure lets up just a bit, ``Have you done this
before?''

	``No *haaa*, why? *nnnn*'' 

	``You don't have a hymen.''

	``Nani sore?''  I ask quickly, getting the whole question out between
moans.

	``A membrane across inside your vagina.''

	``Ano, what's that?'' I ask, curiosity distracting me.

	``Where I've got my finger.''  she looks concerned, ``How can you not
know that?''

	``I was raised most of my life as a boy by my father.''

	``How awful!''  She slides another finger into me, my vagina, and I let
conscious thought lapse again.  My hips continue to rock, and she continues to
use slow, even strokes on me, and her other hand makes slow circles across my
belly, a strange tense feeling building ever higher, until it suddenly breaks
in an overwhelming wash radiating from her fingers almost instantly, pulsing in
time to her continued stroking.  Her lips are suddenly over mine, stifling my
moans, her fingers slowing, then stopping before she backs off.

	``I like to listen to you, but I'm not sure that it is a good idea if
the whole neighborhood can hear too.''

	``Was I that loud?''  I ask, suddenly noticing that my throat aches.

	``Yes,'' she smiles, cuddling up against me, her uniform scraping
across abnormally sensative skin.

	``Where did you learn how to do that?''

	``What?  Make love to you like that?''  I realize that is what she was
doing, and nod.

	``Masturbation, and books.''

	``What's that?  The first.''  I clarify before she can ask.

	``Stroking oneself for the sake of sexual pleasure.''  Oh, that is
probably why Oyaji always got so very _very_ when he saw me with my hands in my
pants.  Bloody schmuck.  She suddenly shifts, leaning over the side of the
bed.  I can hear things moving, so I lean over to look as well, and the piles
of books under the bed are astounding.  Most of them have long titles like
`SocioDynamic Studies in Interpersonal Relationships,' but a few are in Romaji,
looks rather like English, but I can't be sure.

	``Aa! Atta!'' She turns to me, handing me a thickish volume, setting a
thinner one on the pillow.

	``What is this?''  I read the title, something about human behavior
that I can't quite read, for I don't understand a couple of the Kanji.

	``A college-level human sexuality text.  It's a couple years old, but
that isn't as much of a problem as it could be.''  I nod, slide around again so
that I'm in line with the bed, and open it up, proping it on the pillow and me
on my elbows.  As I'd hoped she slides up next to me, taking her own book.  I
press myself to her side and begin to read.

	I finish the introduction, then pause to try and cover some of my
sweat-cooled skin, pulling her almost full-circle skirt tight against her legs
and draping what is left over across my bare middle.  I turn back to my book,
and she looks at me.

	``Would you like to get under the covers, or some clothes?''

	``No, that . . .'' I break off, at a loss for words, ``I want to savor
what just happened, for as long as possible.''  She looks at me, then nods,
leaning close to kiss me on the cheek before returning to her book.

	I finish the book before I realize that I don't know what time it is,
and ask, ``Oneesama, what time is it?''  There is a half-second silence, so I
look up at her.  She looks, well, stunned would perhaps do.  ``What's wrong?''

	``You finished the whole thing?''

	``Yeah.  I never realized just how sheltered a life I've lead.  I'm
pretty sure I lost my hymen about a week ago, fighting with my friend Ryouga.''

	``And you called me Oneesama?''

	``Well, it seemed apropriate.''  Suddenly she has me rolled onto my
back again, her arms wrapped about me tightly, warm wetness against my neck.
Tears.  She's crying.  ``Why are you crying?''

	``What's your name?''

	``Saotome Ranma.''  I don't know why she's asking, and almost broach
the question before she continues,

	``Saotome Ranma.  Such a beautiful name, so right for such a vigorous
girl.  Are you sure that you want to be . . . ''

	``Hai, Oneesama.''

	``Suki yo, Ranma-chan.'' her words are so faint.

	Suddenly she sits up on my hips, looks over to one side, ``It's almost
three.''

	``Ara!  I told everyone I'd be back at noon!''  She helps me get
dressed again, or perhaps hinders, for her kisses are very distracting.

	``Oneesama, what's your name?''

	``Kunou Kodachi.''

	``Sword.  A lovely name for a lovely girl.''  She blushes, but it's
true.  She suddenly kisses me again, and I cling to her for a long moment, my
arms about her neck as her tongue toys with my own.  She finally breaks the
kiss, and I gasp out a quick ``Ja!'' before making a backflip out the
still-open window, sure that I'd stay another six hours if I don't.

*-*

	 Falling into the canal might be good.  It'd mask any strange smells.
Nah, if anyone asks I'll tell them as much of the truth as I can trust them
with.  Decided, I turn and run along the roofs towards Tendouke, dropping
lightly into the yard.

	``Hello Kasumi!''  She looks up from the laundry and smiles at me.

	``Hello, Ranma-kun.  Did something happen?  You look happier than
normal.'' Wouldn't be surprised.

	``Yeah.  My shopping trip this morning was interrupted by some girl
with a ribbon beating on some girls from my school, and I spent the morning
keeping her out of trouble.''  Ranma, that wasn't exactly the plan.  Can't say
as it was, but it works.  True.

	``Oh, Akane was wondering where you went.  She's upstairs, some friends
of hers are coming over to talk to her in a little bit, and she thought you
might like to hear what they have to say.''

	``OK, thanks, Kasumi.''  I head upstairs, knock on Akane's door.

	``Dare?''

	``Ranma.''

	``Haite.''  I open the door and step inside, and seeing that Akane is
at her desk I sit on her bed, skooch back so that my feet are off the floor,
and flop over almost onto my face, propping my head on my hands.

	``What do these friends of yours want to talk about?''

	``I don't know, but they were very distressed, and said that they were
turning to me as a martial artist.''

	``Oh.  I just spent the last six hours keeping this girl outa trouble,
so I'm really tired.''

	``What!''

	``She was beating on some girls from school, so I figured it was my
duty as a martial artist to keep her from picking on the defenseless.  So I
chased her off and followed her.''

	``Oh.''  I let my head drop to the bed, and contemplate what I'd read,
trying to integrate a semester's worth of data.  I'm pretty good at
assimilating information quickly; otherwise I would never have done as well in
school as I have.  I've never had time to do homework, and oyaji would always
interupt if he caught me reading, so I've gotten quite fast at both, even if my
hand is less than stellar.  Where would be a safe place to masturbate, anyway?
As a girl one can supposedly do so by squashing one's clitoris between one's
legs, but if I'm as loud by myself as I am with Oneesama, that would be a
_very_ bad idea.  Akane has a room of her own, so she doesn't have to worry
about Oyaji walking in on her; the bath might work, but people have this nasty
habit of walking in on me there, too.  None of the household males are likely
to realize if they walk in on me masturbating as a girl, and if I keep the cold
water handy I can probably keep anyone from seeing me masturbate as a guy, if I
could actually work of the force of will to try . . .

	I start rocking my hips slowly against Akane's bed, pleased with this
compromise, still tingly everywhere, almost aching for Oneesama's touch.

	``Akane! You have guests!''

	``Want me to come with you to meet them?''  I ask, propping my head on
my hands again, watching her tidy up her homework.

	``No, you can stay there.''  Is her gaze lingering on me?  Makeup on my
face, admiration of my body, or something else?  If so she doesn't say
anything.

	``What's wrong, everyone?''

	I pay almost no attention to what is said, for I'm kinda trying to
hide.  I just can't understand how they can manage not to recognize me, I don't
change that much.

	``Akane,'' one voice warbles, and another continues,

	``We're desperate!''

	``The entire rhythmic gymnastics club is injured?''

	``You're our only hope!''

	``We won't be in any shape to compete.''

	``But you think that I can learn enough by then?''

	``Because it's martial arts Rhythmic Gymnastics!''

	That gets my attention, ``Nan da, sore wa?''

	``That's where the two participants fight using the tools and
techniques of rhythmic gymnastics!''

	``OK, I'm not totally sure about this, but I'll do it.  You have your
substitute.''

	``Thank you, Akane!''

	Why is she never like this with me?  Maybe because I never let the fact
that I need anything out so blatantly.  I watch as they chatter for a little
bit longer, then the other three girls leave.

	``Guess I need to take a bath.''

	``Is that all you're gonna say?''

	``Yeah.  I'll help you train, but that's it.  If I offer anything more
I'd be butting in on your fight.''  Akane nods, a slightly surprised look on
her face.

	``If I need a substitute?''

	``Ask.''  I hop off Akane's bed, and make my way to the bathroom.

*-*

	There's a reason I want to do this, right?  What is it?  I sit on the
tile floor of the bathroom with my heels tucked under me and my knees spread,
somehow unable to touch myself.  Overpowering guilt and fear, the book said
most people . . . Most women . . . have a lot of both about this.  So, what of
that?  Here I am, Saotome Ranma, who can break walls with her nose, afraid to
touch my own clitoris.  I am not, I just don't want to.  OK, I'm afraid.  With
the argument settled, I slip my middle finger downward, parting my outer labia
and brushing my clitoris.

	I stroke it firmly, slowly, contemplatively, waiting for the world to
come crashing down about my ears, for everyone to come barreling in and condemn
me for this.  It doesn't happen.  I start stroking a little faster, rocking my
hips in time to match, just concentrating on how it feels, and on keeping
quiet.  Akane presses herself to me, her bare skin warm against my back, then
slips around, ``Let me.  Here,'' she slips her leg between my own, pressing
herself to my leg, and her leg against my crotch. . .  I manage to stifle
myself down to a sharp gasp as I orgasm.  First time masturbating and I'm
already having etchi fantasies about my friends.  Kua.

	I rinse off again, then climb into the warm tub to soak.

*-*

	``Ya think you can use this stuff?''

	``Well, I can only try.''

	``Huh?''

	``Hey!''  Ryouga.

	``Where have you been?''  As she starts to gather him up I grab him by
the bandana.

	``Ya need to see this, Akane.  I thought that one of these curses is a
weakness, but now I'm pretty sure it's actually a strength. 'Causa that and I
actually promised Bess 'stead of this creap, I figure ya better know.''  We've
reached the kitchen, and I take the kettle off the stove, pouring a cup of it.

	``Back off a bit, please.''  Still holding him by his bandana, I pour
the warm water over the squirming pig, dropping him as soon as I have him good
'n wet.

	``Ryouga-kun?''  Akane gives him a swift kick to the back, just under
his ribs, before spinning and running out, leaving the naked boy passed out on
the kitchen floor for Kasumi to find.  I follow her back to the doujou.

	``Akane . . . '' I sink to my knees beside her, ready for a blow.

	``Ranma?  Why didn't you tell me earlier?''

	``I'd decided the curse was a weakness, and a martial artist doesn't
expose another's weaknesses.  I tried to tell ya without actually sayin' it,
but you wouldn't see it.''

	``Oh,'' she moves, and I tense, then relax as she wraps her arms about
me in a hug, ``Thank you for telling me.''

*-*

End of Part First