Disclaimer: Don't own Ranma ½, don't sue.
AN: I have no idea if this is good enough for Nabiki. Kanashii-san said she wasn't sure because she didn't know her character that well, so sorry in advance. (Don't hurt me!)
I think there's something wrong with me.
Girls these days are supposed to care about boys. Or girls, you know, whichever, but the point I'm trying to make is that they are interested in some gender. And make-up. And clothes.
I know, I know. Some feminists and tomboys will have issues with this, but I bet all of you have worn a skirt or dress at least once in your life. I have. I don't mind it, but I prefer shorts myself. Short shorts that cover more than mini-skirts but still reveal far too much.
I think I'll sound like a whore if I honestly tell you that I get more money when I dress that way, but oh well. I am a whore, of a kind. I don't sell my body, but I do sell my worldly things, like the family's embarrassing pictures. And the thing is, I should feel worse about what I do, I know I should. Akane and Ranma always yell at me for it.
I should have a crush on some cute boy, or be pining after some girl I can't have, or something. Anything. I'm almost afraid I'm a robot, because I think I have no heart.
I was worried about that, once, when I was younger. Some child told me I was heartless after I tricked him out of his lunch money and I'd gone home to mother, worrying about my lack of the important blood-pumping organ. She took me to Dr. Tofu and he showed me an x-ray of my chest. My heart was there.
It still feels like I don't have one.
I should want to pretty myself up, to look nice and go to fine restaurants and eat fish-a-la-mode, or something stupid sounding like that. I should want to giggle and have wild, erotic fantasies about walking on a moonlit beach, holding my true love's hand. Then doing stuff a little more indecent and not fit to talk about to my family.
In truth, I have wild, erotic fantasies about owning companies, having no debts, living free with so many servants I pay some to just sit around all day, getting fat off of my food.
No, wait, scratch that.
I don't pay them at all.
I wouldn't have any friends or casual acquaintances, but my sisters and father would be there with their loved ones . . . in a separate part of my mansion that resides on my private island that can only be visited by my private jet, of course. And mother would be there, and we'd just sit for hours, sometimes talking but mostly not.
That's why I liked mother so much. She could just sit with me while I did math or watched the news and I wouldn't feel like an utter blasphemy to my species.
By this time I have to stop thinking about my future, because I know that that's impossible and it hurts, just a little bit, to dream of things that simply cannot be. So I settle for a mental picture of me rolling in a large mound of money, laughing manically, with the world literally at my feet.
I think . . . if there's anyone I was interested in . . . that'd be my sisters. But even that's not what I'm looking for. Not to sound shallow, but they're not rich enough.
I suppose . . . outside family . . . it'd be Kuno.
Okay, okay. I know it sounds gross, but he's the only rich person I know who won't kill me or do anything too unexpected and he's my best customer. True, it'd be a little messed up if we ended up together because he likes my sister and her intended and buys pictures of both of them on a regular basis while claiming to love both, but the money! I'd never have to work again!
. . . Actually, I'd probably work anyways. You can never have too much money. And I'd probably have to go to the gym on a regular basis, too, to keep up my figure.
Oh, don't even deny that I have a sexy figure.
Is that so wrong, though? To have everything in the world given to me on a silver platter? Logically, yes. Fundamentally, probably still yes. You can tell because of all those leaders that went all evil on people, and I'm already twisted enough. Just give me free reign of the world, and I'd show people a new meaning to the word 'psycho.' But it would still be oh-so-fun. If not for you, then for me.
But for now. . . .
"Kasumi, you'll have to cut down on what you're buying for us to eat again," I murmur in passing. Kasumi's shoulders droop just a little before she straightens back up and nods. To look at her normally, you couldn't tell how she uses herself, in much the same way I do, to get discounts at stores. It's her cuteness. People can't tell that she lives in a place that only barely gets by on the monthly bills because her father doesn't work.
"Well, I'm going out. Be back in time for supper," I call softly, glancing around with half-lidded eyes. I'm done with homework, and dad is probably playing go or shougi or something with Genma, but I still don't want to risk it. Kasumi gives me an understanding look but turns back to her food in silence, probably figuring out what she's going to cook tomorrow.
Like I said, I'm not a whore. I do not sell my body. That would go against every fiber of my being. If I started, I'd probably hate myself.
"Hello, boys," I can't help but smirk as I walk up to them.
I sell pictures, and that's all. I do not sell my body, but I occasionally sell my pride. I don't have to like it, but that's okay.