Ranma Saotome was more angry than he could ever remember being in his entire life.
Stone cold sober, sitting in silence, watching his hands clench and unclench, blood on his palms from where his fingernails had cut them, shoulders shaking – he was set to blow as he thought over what Nabiki had told him, again and again, unable to get past it.
He wasn't a complicated kind of a guy. Most of the time, he thought with his fists – if something couldn't be sorted out by punching it, he was at a dead loss as to how to proceed.
Be a man, Ranma. A man among men.
All his life, those words had been hammered into them, along with a few others.
Girls are weak. Protect them.
The last week they'd been in China, they'd walked in on some kind of official in the process of raping some girl in a back alley. Genma had gone ballistic.
Real men don't rape.
By the time the old panda had let the son-of-a-bitch die, there hadn't been a single unbroken bone in his body.
You find a rapist, stuff the questions, you kill the bastard, right there, right then. But first, you make him wish he'd never been born...
His knuckles popped.
“I'm going to kill him.”
A gasp drew his attention away from the floor.
Akane was standing on the threshold of the room, her eyes like saucers.
“That... thing.” Ranma ground out. His hands were shaking. “The one that... did that. To you. Can't call him a man. Real men don't – won't – do that. Mebbe he don't know it, but he was dead the moment he touched you.”
He rose to his feet, gave her a respectful nod, and turned to leave.
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(Posted Thu, 19 Mar 2009 23:03)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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