Ranma slung his pack down in the middle of the room that he and his father had shared and wondered how the space could seem so empty even though his father had only been gone for a matter of days. It was like coming back to the relics of a destroyed civilization, with all the accompanying detritis that an archaeologist would love to find and misinterpret: a tin cup, the trousers of a gi, an old food wrapper.

If Genma had been serious about Kitadake teaching lessons, he felt as though the old man had been right, for once. Ranma had learned nine months' worth – or thereabouts – in a matter of days. But he still felt uneasy with the decision he'd made, and was grateful that both Ryogas seemed intent on delivering Akane back to the Tendo household before going anyplace.

Ideas that had seemed crystal-clear on the mountaintop had turned vague and dreamlike in more familiar surroundings. Ranma felt like he was slotting into this space, easing into it like an old gi that was worn and rubbed comfortable. At the same time, there was a seed of panic that rooted itself in his chest, the growing realization that if he stayed here – another night, another hour, maybe – he was going to stay for good, put up with what he'd been given and do as he'd been told until he'd forgotten there was ever another way. If Ranma knew his father – and if time worked the way Ranma's brain insisted it did – his own father would come walking through the door sooner or later: ten years older, and ready to take his place at Ranma's side, in Ranma's life, and feeling all the more entitled to it because of the sacrifices he'd made.

But what makes me think Ryoga'd be any better, huh? Ranma thought as he stood in the center of the room, trembling. What if he gets sick of me? It's not like I'm his.

Ranma knew himself, knew his own mind, and didn't try to argue against his ability or right to be loved. Instead, he threw the future out in front of himself like shaking out a big quilt and gave a massive mental shrug. The question was, what was the best decision for him now? Not: what might go wrong, later?

"…anma? Ranma," said a sharp voice.

Ranma jerked his head up to realize that Nabiki was standing in the doorway.

"What're you doing?" she said.

"Nothing," he said, automatically, scanning the room for something to take with him that he'd missed taking on the trip. There wasn't much; a dress tang, a pair of shoes that fit his girl-half, the book of death-poetry. "I mean – packing," he said, because it was clear enough and there was no need to lie.

"Leaving us so soon?" Nabiki inquired, leaning back against the wall by the open doorway, hands clasped behind her. "You just got back."

Ranma stared at her for a beat, feeling half-wild. Then, "yeah," he said, stuffing the tang into his pack with a force that surprised him.

"Hey," Nabiki said.

Ranma looked up to find that his vision was full of a surgically-straight sweep of shiny fringe and wide, brown eyes up close: Nabiki had crouched to land before him and was gazing into his face intently.

"Saotome," she said.

Ranma remembered that this had been Nabiki's technique when she'd told him she loved him: get so close he couldn't properly see her body language. But he didn't think it meant she was about to lie, so much as she was about to try very hard to convince.

"…you're a good guy."

Ranma blinked.

"And it's been wild," she added. "So thanks."

He stood, lifting the pack to one shoulder, and she rose with him. "…for real?"

"I'm serious some of the time."

Ranma strode for the door but paused on the threshold to turn and face Nabiki, balancing on the knife's edge of speaking, trying to decide if it were worth it. "Hey, uh – listen."

"Yeah?" Nabiki's gaze was curious, and he could practically hear her wonder what he was going to throw at her: one, last puzzle he'd given Tendo Nabiki.

"You don't wanna – I don't know – apologize? Like, I'd say, 'hey, Nabiki, sorry for putting you and your family in a rough spot, y'know I didn't mean it', and you'd say…?"

Nabiki's lips quirked ruefully. "Nothing doing, Saotome. A girl's gotta make a living."

Ranma shrugged, averted his gaze, but persevered. "You made your living offa me… kind of a lot."

"So you're a little too trusting. Everyone's got their good and bad points. You can't blame me for wanting to use available resources." Her gaze was open, amused – she wasn't the least bit sorry.

Ranma forced himself to meet her eyes, again. "People who are desperate to believe you, the people you pick out as easy marks, they're easy for a reason, y'know. We're desperate to trust someone, so we keep trying, hoping the next person'll be different. Maybe next time someone like me wants to trust you so bad, you'll consider letting 'em."

Nabiki's face blanched. She cleared her throat, and Ranma could tell she was sweeping her nastiest repository of dry rejoinders. But then, "I'll keep that in mind," she said instead, and crossed her arms over her chest defensively.

There wasn't anything to say to that, so Ranma went out into the hallway where Kasumi handed him a bag that smelled amazing. "I do hope you'll come back to visit once in awhile," she said wistfully. "Things certainly have been interesting with your little friends stopping by all the time. It'll be positively quiet once you're gone."

"Thanks, Kasumi," Ranma said, peering in the bag. Even Kasumi's preternatural housekeeping talents didn't explain how she'd gotten this much food together so fast. He realized she had to have realized that he'd be going on a training trip after the journey to Kitadake.

Had she figured that, either way? With Genma or with Ryoga?

He removed the pack from his shoulders, unzipped it, and nestled the bag of food at the top.

"Where's Akane?"

Kasumi's smile looked a little strained for the first time. "I do hope she's already said her goodbyes."

She had, in a manner of speaking. She'd spent the entire trip back back from the mountain denying she cared if Ranma disappeared off the very face of the earth, then followed that series of declarations with a bout of tears. It was the mark of a good martial artist, he thought, to change tactics when it was clear the first wasn't working. The tears subsided to hurt silence when they didn't change his mind either.

Nabiki stood in the doorway of the guest room, shifting from foot to foot, but didn't move forward. Ranma thought in a slightly different reality, she might have actually hugged him goodbye. "I thought you loved Akane," she blurted. "Are you sure you're making the right choice?" When Kasumi gave a little gasp, she tsked loudly and rolled her eyes. "Someone had to say it! After all this time, someone had to."

"I don't know I'm right. I even thought of asking Ryoga to tell me which Ranma that he met was happiest. But then I realized what makes another version of me happy could make me miserable, or disappointed. 'Cause we're not all the same." Ranma swallowed. "I'll always love Akane, but I won't stay, and she won't go." He was surprised how clear the words emerged, after nearly a year of denials.

Nabiki shrugged helplessly, looking at an uncharacteristic loss for words. She bit her lip and opened her mouth to speak again.

But there was a clatter at the front door, and the trio turned to find Shampoo silhouetted in the doorway, adjusting the straps of a pack self-consciously around her shoulders.

"I see you've mastered doors," said Nabiki, who'd emerged at the noise.

"Please allow – allow me to go with Ranma. With you," Shampoo blurted. "Shampoo – I – I've packed, I have everything, and I'm ready to go."

In Ranma's mind's eye, Shampoo stood for a moment as two people: his childhood companion and competitor, his sister – and a buxom, beautiful nuisance who'd drugged him and worse to get him to marry her. The two images wouldn't resolve: it was like looking through glasses that were the wrong prescription; it was giving him a headache.

And then, with a snap that Ranma could nearly hear, they did.

"I'll – I gotta ask you some questions, first," Ranma said, raking a hand through his hair. "And you gotta answer them. You have to tell me whether I'm correct, not – you can't lie, or nearly lie, or anything, just the truth, Shampoo. The real truth."

Shampoo was already bobbing her head in agreement, twisting her hands together. "Shampoo swear!"

"When you first came here, you attacked Akane," Ranma said, slowly. "You removed her memory. Because you thought… what? That the Tendos were the reason why I didn't remember you?" Ranma shook his head. "You thought they'd stolen me from you, for Akane to marry?"

Shampoo's eyes swam. "Found Ranma after so long, and…"

"And I looked right through you," Ranma filled in quietly, and Shampoo burst into unexpected tears, hiding her face in her hands, and Ranma suddenly saw how it must've been for her, for Ranma to stare at her with blank, uncomprehending eyes: her sister, her playmate, her friend. "Giving Akane amnesia was revenge for what you thought they'd done to me to make me forget you, wasn't it?"

Shampoo didn't raise her head from her hands, but he watched her head bob up and down rapidly.

"You thought they'd kidnapped me. And so you kept trying to kidnap me back," Ranma said. "Is that it?"

Shampoo gathered herself rapidly, swiping her wet cheeks with the back of her hands and taking in a swift breath. "Yes," she said. "After Ryoga arrived, great-grandmother knew we must've been mistaken, but…"

"But by then you were committed to the lie," Ranma filled in. "It got harder and harder to fix it," he sighed. :I know how that goes."

"After Shampoo had – and great-grandmother had – told so many lies – tried so many things…" Shampoo shook her head. "Shampoo knew – I knew – that anything else I said would be taken for another lie."

Ranma pictured Shampoo or Elder Cologne coming to him and claiming that they had helped raise him; that he and Shampoo had known one another as children; that they wanted to take him with them, back home.

He would've laughed in their faces.

"I don't like it, Shampoo, but I guess I understand why you did it all," Ranma said.

Shampoo slid the pack off her shoulders and her fingers twitched at her sides.

Ranma took a tiny step forward too, but his two visions of Shampoo warred with one another again. Part of him knew that Shampoo was hesitant with physical affection, and that he'd need to encourage her to get her to hug him; but part of him was used to unwanted physical advances from Shampoo, and considered her handsy. It was weird.

Shampoo took the step forward for permission, though, and squeezed Ranma.

For his part, Ranma tried not to freeze. Instead, he slid his arms around her and applied gentle pressure.

That seemed to have been the thing to have done, because Shampoo let up on her death-grip and hooked her chin over his shoulder companionably. Maybe she'd always clung so hard because she was frightened he'd disappear again if she let go.

Ranma shuddered. "Thanks for not just leaving me here," he said, uncertainly. He couldn't imagine what the past year had been like for Shampoo, but he imagined that she certainly could have given up a long time ago.

Shampoo gave a teary laugh and pulled back. "Shampoo could never leave Ranma, not after – after I'd found you again," she said. "Nor could great-grandmother. We were so happy, to…" she said, then shook her head, cutting herself off. "It is over," she said firmly.

"It is if we can ever leave. Where's Ryoga?"

Shampoo grimaced. "Ryoga said he had things to pack?"

The entire room froze in concert.

"Oh, my," Kasumi said.

"No, no, older-Ryoga go with him!" Shampoo said, waving her hands.

"Geez, Shampoo," Ranma said.

"Nǐ zěnme kàn wǒ, shuō wǒ bèn?" Shampoo demanded in a petulant sort of voice.

"Yúchǔn shì yī zhǒng gōngwéi," Ranma teased, then brought his hand up to his mouth. The words had just been there, in his subconscious mind, and before he'd been able to really think about it, the simple sentence had spilled out. He even knew what he'd said.

"Whoa," Nabiki breathed. "You know kung fu!"

"Shut it, Nabiki, I can't speak Chinese," Ranma muttered, but it seemed he did, at least for simple sentiments like insult.

"Hey," came a voice from the doorway. The two Ryogas sidled into the Tendo genkan, each of them carrying an identical pack, although the older Ryoga's looked more careworn and had many more stains and patched tears.

"Hello, Shampoo," the older Ryoga said. "Going on a camping trip?"

Shampoo socked him gently in the shoulder. The older Ryoga swept her up in a bearhug in reply; her feet left the floor as he whirled her around, once.

Shampoo parted from him grumbling and fixing her hair baubles, but she couldn't hide the dimples that showed as she fussed.

"Well, we're all ready?"

"Yes, Ryoga-ue," Ranma said with an eye-roll. "That's what all the packs mean."

"I guess you wouldn't be a teenager if you didn't roll your eyes at me every chance you got," he observed. "Then I say we go," he added, clapping his younger counterpart on the back.

"But where," said Ryoga, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Where will we go?"

"That's not just my decision," Ryoga-ue said, "but I think it'd be a good idea to go somewhere with a little peace and quiet, so we can get to know one another better."

Ranma swallowed. He couldn't help thinking that the others would all get along – Ryoga and Shampoo had never had a problem with one another, and the older Ryoga was really laid back – but everyone always had issues with him. Eventually.

"That way, if you decide you'd rather go back home, you can," Ryoga-ue finished, and when Ranma looked up, he realized that the older man's eyes were locked to his. "Before any of us get too far from home." Ryoga-ue nodded decisively and Ranma got it.

It was his decision to go back – if he wanted. Or at least, he thought that's what Ryoga-ue's concerned face meant

"So what if you get sick of one of us, though?" he heard himself ask, voice small.

Ryoga-ue's features blossomed into a giant smile. "I don't see any chance of that," he said.

"But if you did?"

Shampoo and Ryoga were frowning at Ranma, now, but Ranma had to know, had to have his answer before he could feel…

"Listen to me, Ranma," Ryoga-ue said, clearly. "Never. Gonna. Happen. Come here so you can see I mean it."

Ranma sidled up to the others, and Ryoga-ue wrapped his arms around him and squeezed, tilting his head up to rest atop Ranma's hair, and said it again, and quieter, just for him: "Never. Gonna. Happen," he whispered, and Ranma kind of had to stay there a second just so that the others couldn't see his face a minute.

"Thanks, Nabiki, Kasumi," Ryoga-ue said when Ranma finally drew back, not raising his head because he was a little afraid of what the others might see written on his face. "And thank Mr Tendo, if you can find him," he added wryly.

Kasumi nodded automatically at the polite nothing, but Nabiki frowned. "Thanks for what, exactly?" she said.

Ryoga-ue's chin jotted up a notch, and his jaw went square. He slung an arm up to rest a hand atop Ranma's head. "For looking after my kid," he said, fierce. Ranma surprised them all by doing the proper thing and bowing under Ryoga's hand.

Kasumi bowed at the waist, and made a sharp motion with her wrist; after a startled second, Nabiki echoed her, fall of straight hair sweeping to hide her face. The two girls straightened when a wind began to whip through the room, to find that a glowing, blue doorway sliced the air in two. Ryoga-ue strode forward and one by one, the others followed, until the door winked out and the gusts died.

A/N: What Shampoo says in Chinese is something along the lines of "do I look like an idiot?" And Ranma replies that calling her foolish would be a compliment. PLEASE CORRECT me, this is basically me + Google translate.

Thanks so much to inkheart9459, who provided last-second ending advice for this chapter!

My inspiration for writing this story didn't actually come from the Ranma fandom, surprisingly enough. Some of you may know that I write and read in the Harry Potter fandom as well. Within that fandom is a subset of abused!Harry stories. In these stories, acts of increasing depredation are visited on the main character until it seems clear that a real person wouldn't have survived the torture... as though the author was under the impression that the abuse Harry experiences canonically is not enough, or is not 'real' abuse. I also taught Developmental Guidance to twelve-year-olds for many years. Their questions made me come to realize that we as a culture have very little understanding of what constitutes abuse, that we reflexively think of it as solely that which causes physical pain. I started thinking about this a great deal, until I had decided I wanted to write a story in which the main character experienced the most common abuses rather than the most dramatic ones: primarily emotional abuse and neglect. I hoped I could use a world with which we were all familiar and comfortable to display/discuss these uncomfortable ideas.

It's also really rare to see a Ranma raised from childhood to think of his curse as no big deal, something I really wanted to see. The story allowed me to discuss gender and my view of it - something I frankly always think about when writing Ranma stories - but for some reason, this story went deeper than the others as I both did research and questioned myself: what makes someone a woman or a man apart from their appearance? What really separates us? Initially, I was going to stick Ranma and Ryoga with the Amazons for a longer period of time and show Ranma's ideas of gender becoming more nuanced, but I thought Genma's denial of his role as abuser would basically be that Ranma turned out fine; and so I also wanted a Ranma who'd started to be 'raised right' to literally confront the image of the Ranma we see in canon, to see if it really were enough that Ranma survived and turned out okay, or not.

Finally, on a less dramatic note, I realized that I have the tendency to make my characters sound similar to one another, if I'm not careful. So I also crafted this story as a challenge to myself to write Ranma's 'child' voice (a rather difficult endeavor if you haven't tried it before!) consistently.

Well guys, that about wraps it up. Thanks so much for sticking with me on this (very long, very winding) road. When I see a new reviewer, I'm thrilled that my writing has moved them to respond. It's even more special when I see familiar 'faces' in the review page: those people who have read what I've written for years. You guys are the best, I mean it.

Ranma 1/2 is a very tiny, very loving fandom, and I appreciate you all so much. :)