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The summer breeze, combined with the radiance of the sun—life in Japan at it’s finest.

It always reminded me of my childhood, before Mother passed away. Before I put aside my dream of becoming a doctor, and resigned myself to a life of domestic servitude. At least, that was what I thought was going to happen. Four years ago, like a bolt from the blue, my mundane life in Nerima was throw eschew by the arrival of the enigmatic Ranma Saotome. The young martial artist was rough, tumble, and constantly picking for a fight. Even in arrival, the Saotome family was a spectacle to behold. A large panda with a small teenager over the shoulder, the controversy of the future fiancé being a girl, and the inevitable conflict between Ranma and Akane over the most mundane of things. And Akane! Oh, my, Akane. Akane and Ranma hadn’t gotten along—not at all. Accusations of perversion, of tomboyish aggression, of all sorts of silly things had turned what most of the Tendō family thought to be a simple bickering lovers dynamic into latent, if not outright hostility on most days. Akane certainly resented the imposition Ranma represented in her life—forced marriage, no choice, no ability to break free. Ranma, on his part, resented the arrangement as well. His father had brook no other option with that regard—for that part, neither had her own father. As the weeks turned to months turned to years—Ranma became much smarter and more mature, no doubt due to the influence Nabiki and I were imparting on the young man. With his father’s control over his life weakening by the day—with both of us putting in that effort to make things work out, Ranma began to determine that he was unhappy letting others pilot his own fate. And so it came to very little surprise that after the failed wedding that one summer day many years ago—the irreconcilable schism between Akane and Ranma could no longer be healed. The two separated, quite amicably, but there was still that latent dislike that lingered over family meals. As the months dragged on, Ranma’s overt extroversion receded—he didn’t speak very much anymore, and certainly seemed to cut a wide-berth to avoid the fights he didn’t deem necessary. I suppose after fighting a berth of super-powered martial artists, the commonality of the Nerima Wrecking Crew didn’t mean much anymore. Then, I began to realize something. Feelings were growing inside of my belly, like flowers in spring. And so, to no surprise, I suppose—It came at me like a freight train, come Tanabata. Tanabata—the Star Festival. The celebration of the meeting of Orihime and Hikoboshi; the legend of the two lovers, separated by the Milky Way—whom on this day only, can meet once more. The large crowd of Nerima’s residents carrying out the tradition of hanging written wishes on bamboo had separated our family. To some shock, Ranma and I ended up hanging our wishes next to each other. The martial artist was in his female form, wearing a very pretty looking yukata. “You look very nice, Ranma.” Ranma looked a little surprised and said with a slight smile, “You think so? Ma gave me this, said it was hers when she was my age.” “It suits you,” I said with a smile, glancing at the very light floral patterns that ran across it. “certainly more so than some of the other ones I’ve seen you wear over the last few years.” I felt a hitch in my stomach and said, looking around, “Ranma… come with me.” I grasped the girl’s hand and took her over to the side, away from the thralling crowds. We sat down on a nearby park bench, and a quiet lull settled over this part of the park. I felt some apprehension, and the words I had been thinking of, didn’t come easy. “Ranma. Do you… think that sometimes, you have to do something, and if you don’t, you’ll never get a chance to?” “Yeah, maybe. What’s wrong, Kasumi?” I felt some tears welling up and blinked them away. I went in for a kiss, which I think shocked the redhead because he looked dumbfounded for a moment. Ranma, after a few moments, returned the favor. We sat there and kissed for what felt like an eternity—really, only just a few minutes. He pulled away, and I felt a twinge of loss—his lips were so soft as a girl—were they like that as a guy? I opened my eyes and saw his clear blue in return. He stared at me for a few moments, before he closed the gap between us again, wrapping his arms around me, and planting a kiss on my lips. He pulled away and said, “Are you sure you wanna do this?” “I’m sure.” I said, nodding fervently. “I’m… I want to try. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time—I need some change.” Ranma smiled, “I’m--I’m up for it, if you are.” He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer to him. We kissed again, for longer this time, our clumsy attempt at romance leading to us trying to play with our tongues and doing probably not the best job at it. After a few minutes, we pulled apart and fixed our yukata, which had come a little rumpled during our make-out session. We sat for a little while longer and enjoyed each other’s presence.