The Phoenix Saga

"Ranma, help!" The pleading voice echoed through the cavernous arena.
Ranma grimaced. "I'm coming, Akane!" She thrust her left leg forward, sliding on the thin blade on her foot. Socks on an oiled wood floor. Socks on an oiled wood floor, she repeated in her mind, coaxing her body to find a muscle memory to apply to the unfamiliar motion required to ice skate. Begging her unsteady legs for speed, her eyes fixated on the tall man in the white suit.
Closing the hundred or so meter gap, she leapt into the air, the blade extruding from her left foot shining in the arena lights as she aimed for the back of his head. "Get OFF!" Her target turned, dropping his grip on Akane's arm.
As Akane skated a few feet away to safety, she watched as the feminine form of her fiance sailed high over the skater's head, crashing to the ice in a tangle of arms and legs with a loud smack. Akane winced, wished she'd found more time to give her more skating lessons before this duel.
Ranma scrambled to find her footing, but her hands and skates would not find purchase on the ice. In seconds, Mikado Sanzenin was on her. He dropped to his knees, pinning the redhead on her back on the ice. He laughed with a ravenous glare, having no trouble whatsoever restraining his prey. Ranma's body began to go numb as the chill from the rink ice sliced through the thin layer of silk that comprised her skating outfit. His hands were everywhere, making their way up her powerless form and pinning her arms to the ice at the wrists. Her eyes were fixated on him, but from her peripheral vision she could make out the crowd in the packed arena pointing and cackling viciously at her plight. "GET HER, MIKADO!" came a chorus of male voices from the crowd.
"Get off me!" The man just laughed. He leaned down over her frame, puckering his lips. Ranma squirmed frantically, but it was no use. Between his grip and the frictionless ice surface, she had no leverage to escape. With a desperate scream that sounded far more like Akane's cry for help than any battle kiai she'd ever uttered, Ranma managed to wrest her right arm free and swung wildly for his face, closing her eyes tightly as she did so.
Mercifully, she felt her punch solidly connect. A split second later, the resonant crash of the lamp from her nightstand against the steel refrigerator door startled her, and she sat up bolt-straight in bed, soaked with sweat and breathing as if she'd just run a marathon. She looked around the still-unfamiliar room, taking a moment to remember where exactly she was and how she got there.
"Holy shit. Just a dream."
She swiveled her legs out from under the blankets and dangled them off the bed, brushing her hair from her face with her fingers. She'd been having the dream or some variation of it periodically ever since her and Akane's duel with the Golden Pair, but far more often since "it" had happened. She slid out of the bed onto her feet and strode the 2 meters or so separating her bed from what constituted the apartment's attempt at a kitchen. Grateful that it hadn't broken, she collected the lamp from the kitchen floor and returned it to the nightstand before slumping into one of the small wooden chairs surrounding her compact little dining table. Still in the haze between asleep and awake, her mind drifted back into her memories – thankfully not of that day she first fought Mikado, but of the weeks that followed.

When it first happened, Ranma hadn't really been sure how to feel about it. He knew he felt disgusted, and he felt an overwhelming urge to solve his dilemma like every other social problem he had – with his fists. He already challenged Mikado and Asuza to another duel, but he could care less about Mikado's psychotic partner. That jerk was going to pay.
The feelings of anger and vengeance felt normal to Ranma, as indeed they were to someone with his long history of resolving emotional conflict with physical conflict, but there was something else – a vulnerability that he'd never really experienced before. He wasn't sure how to articulate it, but it felt as if something more than pride had been taken from him. He'd been defeated in a fight before, and it was no big deal; he'd go spend a few days training, pick up some new technique or analyze his opponent's moves, and he'd crush them in a face-saving rematch. But this wasn't a beating, it was a violation, and it would not be undone whether he sent Mikado to the hospital or not.
He desperately needed to talk to someone. In his mind, guys weren't wired to process stuff like this. But who? First, he thought of Akane. She was there, so she would understand. Problem was, Akane was probably used to this. Half the guys in her class had black eyes in their school ID photos because they'd tried to push themselves on her. She would probably think what he was going through was nothing.
Nabiki? No chance. She never met a weakness she couldn't exploit. Kasumi? Ranma had no doubt she would be understanding, but something felt wrong about talking to her about this sort of thing, as if it would corrupt her somehow. That brought his thoughts back to Akane. He made it halfway to her room before pausing. I can't do this, he thought to himself. I can't show her that something like this is bothering me. Guys aren't supposed to feel weak like this. He went back down the stairs, defeated. He guessed, as a last resort, he could try Pop. Walking through the dining room, he paused, detouring into the kitchen and making for the sink. Somehow, this conversation would be easier in a different skin.
A moment later, her hair still dripping from the cold water, she joined Genma in sitting on the grass out by the koi pond. "Pop, can I talk to you about something? It's kind of weird, fair warning."
Genma looked at her, a little confused, before taking a thick black marker from some hidden fold of his panda fur and writing, "Sure thing, Ranma, what's up?" on a small cardboard placard he held up for her to read.
She shook her head, rolling her eyes and holding up a tea kettle. "Ideally, where you talk back."
The panda nodded, and with a quick pour from the spout, her father sat before her again. "Okay. Now, you were saying?" He wrung his gi top out as he awaited her response.
"Okay, so… this is…" She trailed off, looking down at her hands. "You remember a couple days ago when Akane and I did that skating thing?"
He nodded. "Ah! You wanted me to train you up so you don't get your butt kicked again when you rematch him! Don't worry, my boy, I'm sure we can scare up some Saotome School of Anything Goes Martial Arts final attack for this situation!" He clapped her hard on the shoulder with his hand.
Ranma tensed, pushing his hand off. "No, Pop, not that. So, I was really pissed when we got home, and you thought it was because we lost. I guess that was part of it, but not all of it." Genma nodded, listening.
Ranma gulped. There was no unsaying this once it was said. "Well. ya see Pop, the guy, Mikado, he was chasing Akane all over, and I figured I had to help her, right? So I got between them. I wasn't super great on the skates though, and he managed to grapple me."
"So? That happens all the time in combat."
"No, Pop. You don't get it. I was a girl, and he held on to me and… and… he kissed me."
Genma stared at her intently for a moment, saying nothing until he could hold it no longer. And then he began to laugh. "That's what this is all about? Ranma, this is fantastic! If he's infatuated with your girl form, you can use that to your advantage in a future match! Wear something even cuter and distract him! Besides, you're not really a girl anyway, so why do you care?"
Ranma nodded in hollow acknowledgement of his words, willing the tear tracing a path down her cheek to blend in with her dripping hair. "Yeah, I guess you're right, Pop. Thanks." She stood, turned her back and walked away. She should have known better. He'd never understand why it was tearing her up like this that Mikado had humiliated and violated her like that in front of thousands of people who just sat there and… cheered him for it. In front of their friends. In front of Akane. Damn it, in front of Akane!
He didn't think he'd ever get Genma to comprehend that it wasn't just that Mikado had kissed her, it was the mind-shattering realization that if she could lose a fight and be held powerless to stop a kiss, what else might she be unable to prevent? Any martial artist who managed to beat her in a fight could do whatever he wanted to her. The moment she realized that for the first time was the most afraid she'd felt in her young life. Is this how regular girls felt every day? This constant dread that the next guy to come around the corner could just decide to do… anything… to you and unless you were quicker or stronger, you were defenseless? No wonder every girl he knew seemed to be pissed off all the time at every guy they encountered.
From then on, Ranma never said another word to anyone about what happened on the ice that day, not even after he'd taken his vengeance on Sanzenin. Everybody in the house either thought he was a pervert, thought his feminine half was a mask that meant nothing to anyone, or was too oblivious to even notice anything was wrong. No one would listen. She could only hope no one heard her stir when the nightmares came. That was also when Ranma started dedicating time during his training regimen each week to practice fighting in his female form. He was determined to learn how to weaponize her body the way he had his, maximizing every advantage he could find. As a guy he had to be strong and fast, but as a girl? He had to become invincible, or he didn't think he'd ever sleep again.
Of course, not a month after this happened to her, and after she'd gone to her father for help and been laughed at, what did Genma do? Apologize? Give her some advice? No. He and Mr. Tendo moved the grandmaster of all lechers into the empty room across the hall. Where Ranma had been worried that a random martial artist might be able to beat her and take advantage of her, now the guy who taught the guy who taught her everything she knew about fighting was the biggest and most constant threat. Now every second, even when Ranma was a guy, he was a glass of water away from being groped at and molested while his father and future father-in-law watched and did nothing. He never understood that about Soun in particular. Ranma had recently been brought to the painful understanding that taking female form afforded him none of the social courtesies afforded women as far as the men of the house were concerned. But how could Soun just sit there and drink his tea while this pervert got all handsy with his daughters? Where did he get off saying Ranma had to protect Akane, when he himself wouldn't?
And then, of course, "it" happened. After they returned home from the ski resort, no Phoenix Pill in hand, the only time Ranma wanted to leave her room was when her father was in it. Akane and her sisters did everything they could for her. Even their dads tried to give her a little space to come to terms with it. But when they told Happosai… she'd never forget the look on his face. It was like Christmas came early for him. He did not care in the slightest that Ranma was a human being, feeling more vulnerable than she ever knew possible, because to him, she was nothing but a shiny new toy.
Kasumi had tried to help. Her heart was in the right place. If Ranma would never be a guy again, she was determined to teach her how to function as a girl. She was constantly bringing home skirts and dresses to try and force her into, coaching her on mannerisms, things like that. She even offered bridal training once! But not only did her coaxing just remind Ranma of the truth of her situation, it was like pouring jet fuel on Happosai's perversion toward her.
Ranma sighed, her thoughts returning to the present. She rubbed her temples, trying to push the thoughts out of her mind. Nothing good ever came of it when she started thinking about all that stuff. She yawned, wishing yet again that she could still tolerate hot tea and that she had some groceries in her little apartment for a quick bite. She'd have to work on that when she'd built up a little money. Might as well get dressed and head down to work, she mused to herself, heading for her closet.
Under the circumstances, she wasn't really feeling like she could handle the exposure of a skirt today, but she still felt obligated to use something she was offered so she didn't seem ungrateful. She decided to compromise, picking a yellow blouse dotted with little white sunflowers and pairing it with her black gi pants. When she pulled Izumi's satin shirt over her head, her whole body shivered as it softly slid over her hypersensitive skin. She had to admit, while it was terrible having the Full Body Cat's Tongue amplify every bad sensation, it didn't always suck that it amplified the good ones too.
At that moment, a thought struck her, and a brand-new dread began clanging in her head like iron bells. What if something like Mikado happened again, and not only was she unable to fight her way out of it, but it felt too good to stop? What if her body's involuntary response, cranked up to eleven, paralyzed her when she needed to fight back? What if it felt so physically overwhelming that she couldn't will herself to resist?
Suddenly, Ranma had lost all interest in breakfast.