Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Memoirs of being in the Saddle ❯ The accident ( Chapter 5 )

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The next step came a lot sooner than expected. 

I was late to my bench once.

Work, my lesser paying job, had called, and they needed a man to hold a camera thanks to some stupid disappearing buses in Juuban. Turns out that they weren't actually gone, probably some sort of gas leak or something in the tunnel.

Anyhoo, that and the school traffic meant I was I was about an hour late.

And Ranma was on my bench, on the other seat, waiting for me. Still female too. Her look was a bit of angry and accusing. She didn't say anything, but I knew what she wanted to say, but couldn't because it involved going into territory that was very prickly for him and her.

Trust.

Where was I? Why wasn't I here when I was needed, even if it was for a bit of hot water and a small towel? 

Thanks to all the time I spent listening to the household he lived in, I knew both what to say and what not to. I had to apologize, as no one ever really did to him, even if he was right -especially if he was right- and I had to explain as quickly as I could. No bullshit.

So I shrugged and said. "Sorry, work kept me late."

By the time I came back out with a cup of hot water for her, she was gone.

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No, I won't be using one gender pronoun only, or some bizarre half and half. When there were tits I used she and her, and when there wasn't I used he and him. Simple, and it tells you who and what gender I'm talking to.

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It wasn't a long time, just a weekend, before I saw her again, heading from the school past my place. 

This time I was ready. I had everything I needed.

This time though, she was the one late coming back. 

I realized the trick she was pulling pretty quick, and, decided to show the young buck/doe how easily you could turn it around.

Age and treachery and all that.

What I did was simple: I ate all the cookies, used all the hot water to make and then drink all the tea, and then I folded up the newspaper after I was done.

I waited and made it very clear that I had been waiting for awhile. I would take my prior lapse and her anger and endure it stoically, making her look childish. But not too childish of course, despite what a lot of people say about the Japanese, acting childish isn't something I enjoy watching all that much.

The sun was going down when I heard her footsteps. She had different ones from most people -both the gait and the shoes- and it was pretty distinct in the quiet evening. 

She stopped in front of me, dry, and an expression I could only describe as petulant.

'Well?' she didn't say out loud, but her body language practically shouted it though.

"Sometimes," I began. "Shit happens." I tapped the empty thermos against the bench to illustrate the point. "However..." 

I reached down behind the bench, where you wouldn't look unless you knew that it had a small spot against the wall to hide something. "What separates a real man from the rest is how you prepare for the next one." 

I pulled out the second thermos and tossed it at her. "Remember that."

And went inside without looking back.

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I must have spent an hour coming up with that in advance.

Yeah, it was crass, blunt and a bit cheesy. It had to be. Ranma had been raised so old school it was almost silly.

It helped that I'd listened to Genma a fair bit in their shared room. The man was a wellspring of bad ideas, but he had a way with words, a flow, that seemed to work on people far better than it should.

In any event, an hour later I came back out and picked up the empty thermos and placed a fresh one behind the bench. These were pretty rated to be pretty good, they'd easily go 12 hours from boiling to merely warm. And as long as I swapped them on a schedule, there'd always be hot water there.

And Ranma checked too.

For the first five days during his lunch hour. It was easy to tell, all you have to do is sprinkle a pinch of dried rice or a small pebble onto the top of the thermos cap. There's no wind where it's tucked away, and if you tilt it as you pick it up, which you pretty much have to do if you don't know exactly where it's placed, it spills. 

So, for the first five days, someone who knew the thermos was there was picking it up and putting it back without using it or stealing it.

And, when I had another gig on the Friday of that week, when I came back, the thermos was half used and returned to it's hidden spot.

And now, when he crossed by my place, he'd say hello at the very least. Still hadn't asked my name though, and called me Oyaji - old man - like he did with his dad. Suited me well enough.

We'd talk about the weather, a serious subject indeed for the aquatransexual, or if I had any prior warnings of his martial arts associates roaming around.

Being 'harmless' did hamper things somewhat, it was kind of implied that I didn't 'get' it, but at least he was asking me my opinion on things.