The Shape of Your Face

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Ranma 1/2 but... I have Mousse locked in my closet!!!! ^_^


CHAPTER FIVE:

When Mousse’s shift was getting close to the end he was relieved. He’d had this job for a month and already knew it in and out, but that didn’t mean he liked it. It *was* a lot like working at the Nekohanten, but there were a few major differences. Drunks for one - he stopped wiping down the bar and eyed one who was sliding off the barstool. A quick signal to Artemus had the hulking bouncer ‘helping’ the man outside. Mousse went back to his polishing and his thoughts.

The noise was another difference. Except for when Ranma and his followers showed up, the Nekohanten was a quiet, pleasant place to eat, attracting a polite clientele. Mousse had stopped counting the fights and screaming matches here on his first night. The boss had been a little leery of hiring him and he knew it was because he looked so young. Then his wife had leaned over and whispered in his ear for a long moment. The man’s eyes had widened and he had abruptly offered Mousse the job, at two dollars above minimum wage. Mousse still wasn’t quite sure why.

“Hi, Mark.” A female voice cooed. He looked up at the name - the boss’ wife had informed him that ‘Mousse’ was too ‘oriental’ and had called him Mark. He’d thought it rather silly - too oriental when they were in Japan? And ‘Mousse’ wasn’t even an oriental name - or his real name. He hadn’t even bothered telling her it was really Msu Tsu. He could imagine her face. He turned his attention reluctantly back to the blond leaning over the bar.

This was the third reason he didn’t like this job. He kept getting hit on. He’d never thought of himself as particularly attractive before, and with his hair dyed such a muddy brown he felt absolutely ugly - yet this woman and other customers - not all of them women - were constantly trying to ‘get into his pants’ as one had crudely put it. And when he had to wait tables? Gods, *that* was just walking through a sea of groping hands. Of course, his tips were good, and were adding to his tiny savings account - but he wasn’t sure it was worth it.

“What can I get for you, Miss Dorothy?” He asked politely. He’d called her ‘miss’ until she had pouted and told him her name, then he just tacked it on. He refused to get on a first-name base with any of the customers. It just seemed safer that way. He told them it was because he had to stay polite.

“Now, Mark, no need to be so formal!” Dorothy cooed, leaning closer and putting a hand on his forearm. She was dangerously close to the concealed knives he still carried and he stepped back quickly.

“Excuse me, Miss Dorothy.” He kept his voice low and tried to smile. “Customers.” He hurried down the bar to the two men who had just come in, more thankful to see them than they would ever realize. He filled their orders quickly and efficiently, then the day bartender Hane showed. He turned the till over to him in record time and escaped before Dorothy realized what was going on.

He walked slowly down the pre-dawn streets. It wasn’t as crowded here when morning was approaching but one still had to be careful. He thought about Dorothy as he walked, about the hopeful smile on her tired face. His new way of looking at things still amazed him - he never would have noticed the loneliness and hunger in her eyes before he found he was going to lose his sight. He wished he could help her, but it wasn’t in his heart to love her or any of the others, and that was what they needed. Not the physical fling they thought they wanted, but a real, true love. The kind he would like to have for himself, the kind he thought he could get by pursuing Shampoo.

Shampoo. He hadn’t though of her in days - it had ceased to surprise him that he could think of her now without his heart seizing up in pain. The sudden maturity forced on him by his dilemma had made him see his ‘love’ for what it was - a crush, a longing for something he only thought he saw in the uncaring girl.

He sighed softly and forced his thoughts away from his old life. There were very few things or people he wished to remember from it. He had made a list of things he wanted to see, to memorize in case he never saw anything again, and he used the few daylight hours not devoted to sleeping to search them out. Today he wanted to watch the sunrise over the little lake in a nearby park. One of his drunker customers had gone on and on about the beauty of it. The other patrons had laughed and called him ‘Poet’, and Mousse wanted to know how correct his clouded words had been. If the view was even half as lovely as he claimed, it would be a memory worth collecting.

He glanced at the sky - it was turning light grey with approaching dawn and he quickened his steps. He wanted to see every bit of this sunrise, and that meant he needed to be sitting by the lake in the next five minutes. He darted around a corner, slammed into someone and dodged away, murmuring an apology and increasing his speed. Bumping someone wasn’t exactly safe here - he knew not to make eye contact and to get out of sight as quickly as possible. He forgot the incident as soon as he turned the next corner and saw the gates of the park ahead of him.


*


Ranma had spent the past few weeks searching for Mousse - unable to explain to anyone exactly *why*, but not about to stop until he found him. Ryoga and Akane had been willingly involved - they were a little worried about Mousse, too, *and* it gave them an excuse to be together. When Ranma found out how much they cared for each other he’d been relieved, not angry. He liked Akane, truly he did, but he didn’t want to marry any of his ‘fiancees’. She kept things quiet because of her family, still pretending to pursue Ranma. Ryoga grudgingly let her, slowly becoming friends with the other martial artist himself. They kept up their feud in public, both willing to protect Akane.

All three of them felt terrible upon learning Mousse might go blind - and confused as to why he chose to disappear instead of asking for help. They didn’t stay confused long. Akane decided to ask Cologne, in a roundabout way, what she and her great-granddaughter would do if Mousse came back and was more handicapped than when he had left. The ancient crone had gazed at her for a long moment, opened her mouth to speak, and was promptly interrupted by an eavesdropping Shampoo.

“Get rid of Duck Boy, if comes back like that. *Kill* him if comes back anyway...” Shampoo was still having to work, although they’d been forced to hire a second waitress and a dishwasher - another grievance against Mousse. They were far from happy at spending money on what they’d gotten from him for free. Akane had stared at her, open-mouthed, and looked to Cologne to see if she agreed. The old woman nodded.

“No place in Amazon tribe for someone like that. Should have been taken care of when a child, and found needed such strong glasses. Pfft, some warrior.” She’d turned back to her cooking, still muttering under her breath. Akane had looked back and forth between her and Shampoo, who after her lovely little announcement had started painting her nails, humming softly. The other girl turned a little pale and left quickly.

“I don’t believe it!” She screeched at Ranma and Ryoga a few minutes later. “They were just so *calm* about it! They’ll *kill* Mousse just because he’s going blind! Gods, no wonder he ran!” She paced back and forth in front of them and kept on ranting. The boys tuned her out after a moment, going over a map of Nerima marked with where they’d already searched.

When they started they had been looking for signs that Mousse had left the city, asking returning travelers if they’d seen him, asking caravan leaders if anyone matching his description had been with them. For two weeks they’d had no luck, then Dr. Tofu had invited them back... for tea. There had been a note in the file that Mousse had been back for a checkup, and had casually mentioned that he’d walked over. That meant he was still in Nerima, and if they looked hard enough surely they could find him?

Ha. They’d been looking for two more weeks, and nothing. Not a whisper of someone dressed in blue and white Chinese clothing, no one with thick glasses and gorgeous long black hair. They’d started on other descriptions, short black hair in case Mousse cut it - that idea gave Ranma the shivers - regular clothes, anything they could think of. They still got zip, until a drunk they half-heartedly questioned last night told them about a new bartender at his favorite bar.

“Dark hair, I think, thick glasses, I know... face like an angel.” His name he couldn’t remember, but thought it started with an ‘M’. It was enough for them to plan this morning’s trip around that area.

It had to be early morning, since Ranma and Akane had school later. Ryoga could go anytime, but preferred to be with his love. Despite the fact that he was becoming close friends with Ranma, he just never felt like he got enough time with Akane. He was making plans on selling his house and moving to another town, taking Akane with him - as soon as she finished school. If her family couldn’t accept her marrying someone she actually *loved*, then they’d have to et along ithout her. Akane was alright with the plan, because she felt that her family would only be able to hold out for a month or so before they welcomed her new husband. She thought the word ‘husband’ again and giggled in the middle of her rant, her cheeks turning pink. Ranma and Ryoga both gave her an odd look but weren’t about to ask what was going on. Who could figure out *girls*?

They started out an hour before dawn, reaching the seediest part of their city and wandering around for awhile. The drunk’s directions had been pretty garbled - they didn’t see a bar called ‘Golden Reindeer’ - what was with *that* name? - anywhere. After a while they split up to cover more ground. Ranma headed off on his own while Ryoga and Akane went in the opposite direction. They were all really hoping they wouldn’t find Mousse here. It was disgusting. There were prostitutes, bars, opium dens, gambling casinos *everywhere*. It was dirty and grimy and all three of them wanted to go home and scrub in a hot soapy bath.

Ranma turned a corner and was nearly knocked off his feet by someone running towards him. He got a quick glimpse of someone tall and thin, dressed in jeans and a strange shirt, a long brown braided whip of hair. Then they were around him and gone, a muffled “Sorry about that!” drifting back to him as they ran. He took one more step and stopped short. He knew that voice.

He pivoted sharply and ran after the fleeing figure.


*


Mousse ran through the park entrance like all the demons of Hell were on his trail. He had planned all night for this sunrise and was fiercely determined not to miss it. He found the little concrete bench he had remembered being in front of the lake and stopped abruptly, sitting down on it casually and folding his legs like he was going to meditate. He took a small paper bag out of his pocket and started munching on the fruit he’d packed for his dinner, looking for all the world like he was waiting for a movie to start.


*


Ranma skidded to a stop about fifty feet away and stared. He’d really thought someone was after Mousse, the way the other boy had been running, and the sudden change to calmness left him blinking in surprise. He stood still for a long moment, watching the other boy.

Mousse was thinner, not too much but enough to be noticeable. His hair looked good in a braid, or would have if it was still black. Ranma wasn’t sure he liked the jeans and the long-sleeved, high collared shirt under a t-shirt but... wait just one minute! Who cared how Mousse was dressed? He was worried about the other boy, wanted to find him and help him because he was going *blind,* right? Right!

He took a deep, settling breath and marched forward, settled down on the bench beside Mousse. The wide grey eyes turned to him for a second, peering at him above the rims of the sleek new glasses. He instinctively leaned forward, close enough for Mousse to see who he was. The other boy blinked at him, then turned those soulful eyes back to the tiny lake. Ranma’s dark eyes followed, wanting to see what was so mesmerizing.

For a long moment it was nothing, just a grey lake reflecting a dull grey sky. Then a slow flush of pink, soft against the grey. Shades of red, violet and indigo followed, spreading smoothly across the bluing expanse of sky. The mirror of water reflected it all back, twin images of beauty almost confusing to watch. The sun appeared, a slim line of fire against the dark horizon, seemed to move upward so slowly, licking a trail of fire across the azure waters of the lake, until it bounded suddenly, fully into view. The exquisite blend of colors faded, leaving a soft, bright sun in a blue morning sky.

Ranma took a deep breath and realized at least ten minutes of silence had gone by - and that he’d been sharing Mousse’s bits of fruit. The other boy sighed and stretched, blinking his eyes in a soft, sleepy way that made him swallow hard.

“Ranma - what are you doing here?”