[Episode 39075] [Episode 39075]Ranma awoke to the sounds of emotional anguish. It took him a minute to get his bearings as he struggled to shake off the all-too-familiar after-effects of being drugged. When he did, he became aware that he was lying naked in a bed—a decidedly shredded bed. It had long slashes in it and hunks of the bed's stuffing were sticking out from the long slits in the sheet.
Looking around he located the source of the sobbing that had awoken him. In the corner of the room, a girl was huddled in a ball of misery. She was wrapped in a sheet and her long black hair draped over her face in disarray. Next to her lay a sword, most probably the implement that had done the damage to the bed.
Ranma wondered for a minute what was going on, but then everything snapped into harsh focus as memories of what had transpired fully returned to him. He had sex with this girl—a total stranger. He didn't even know her name. It was also quite clear that they had both been drugged and had been unable to control themselves. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the girl hadn't wanted what had happened now that the effects of whatever they had been hit with had worn off.
Ranma's mind took on a brittle crystalline clarity as he made the connections. He had just raped an innocent girl. That she had been an eager participant in her own rape wasn't even important. Ranma, as a martial artist of his caliber, felt that he should have been able to control himself. That he had succumbed to the drug without so much as a token resistance was unforgivable—especially as the result had clearly ruined this girl's life.
He knew how he would have felt if he had been in his female form and woke up with a guy. He would have wanted to first kill the bastard that took advantage of him and then killed himself out of shame. He didn't even kid himself that it wouldn't have happened. It was just pure luck he had managed to be in male form when whatever it was took effect.
He felt utterly filthy and overwhelmed with guilt. He knew there was absolutely nothing he could do to make this right. There was no way to give back what he had taken from her. Even offering to marry her would just make her life more miserable. Who would want to marry their rapist?
Ranma sighed in remorse and got off the bed, locating his boxers. He slipped them on and then pulled on his pants. Glancing over at the girl, he knew what he had to do. It wasn't enough—it could never be enough—but it was all there was. He slowly approached her, attempting to look as non-threatening as possible, and knelt a few feet away.
"Um...excuse me," Ranma spoke hesitantly.
Her head jerked up and her body cringed back from him, her hand scrabbling across the floor for the tsuka of her sword. Even red and puffy from her crying, Ranma thought her eyes were beautiful—rich sienna with gold flecks—even as they flashed with shame and anger.
"Stay away form me!" she shrieked. "You...you...bastard! You took advantage of me! You stole my virtue and stripped me of my honor!"
Ranma winced and hung his head in shame.
"You're right," Ranma agreed. "I should'a been stronger. I should'a been able to resist whatever was affecting us. There's no excuse for what I did, and I know there's nothin' in this world I can do to make up for it. I don't even know your name. All I can do is offer ya my life. You have my oath as a martial artist: my life and what little honor I have left are yours." Ranma glanced meaningfully at the sword now clutched in her hand. "If my blood will wash away some small part of the shame I've brought on us both, then it's yours. I won't stop ya. If ya demand my death, it's your right."
Motoko looked at the young man that had taken her virginity. Had this been when she had first awoken, she would have struck him down instantly. In fact, she had tried to do just that, but somehow he was able to avoid her strikes even in his sleep—she was too distraught to focus her ki for any of her more powerful techniques. It had been just another humiliation that he had defeated her without ever having woken up. Since then, she had realized that she was just as much to blame for what happened, in spite of what she had said about him taking advantage of her.
He seemed sincere in offering her his life and seemed to be genuinely remorseful. Motoko felt confused and unable to think clearly. She felt angry and resentful towards the young man, but, at the same time, she could still feel an attraction to him and some part of her wanted—even needed—to forgive him...to be with him. She didn't know what to do. She had to talk to her sister.
"What is your name?" Motoko asked, her voice raw from her mental state.
"I'm Ranma...Ranma Saotome," he answered in a tone that was heavy with his self-loathing.
"Then if you were sincere in saying that your life belongs to me, you will come with me to consult my sister, the acting-head of the Aoyama Clan," Motoko said dispassionately. "She will know how honor is best served in this."
"I'll do whatever it takes to make up for this," Ranma vowed, "even if you want me to commit seppuku or turn myself in to the police as a rapist."
"Motoko."
"Huh?" the pigtailed youth asked in confusion.
"I am Motoko Aoyama," Motoko informed him as she stood up, the sheet preserving what modesty she had left. "I must dress and then we shall go."
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(Posted Sun, 11 Nov 2007 17:58)
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