Hi!
I suppose this is a repost. I finally got around to finishing
this off so that I can send it to RAAC. Typical. The final draft of
this passed through the FFML about - what, four-six months ago - but I
never posted it to RAAC since I figured I'd do a major overhaul of the
story. Never happened. Some major revision work - I learnt a bit
writing Choices: The Party, in which Raphael See had given me a major
lesson in punctuation <grin> - but little in terms of actual content.
And in a way - I realized I didn't _want_ to change it much...
but I digress. Enjoy the fic, and as always, even though the fic will
likely be merrily winging its way to the RAAC moderators by the time you
receive this, C&C still greatly appreciated.
Comments follow at the end.
-Mike Noakes
***
Homepage and Fanfiction at:
http://aix2.uottawa.ca/~s669330/
***
Apron Strings
by
Michael J. Noakes
Mama now I'm coming home
I'm not all you wished of me;
A mother's love for her son
Unspoken, hear me be;
Well I took your love for granted
And all the things you said to me;
I need your arms to welcome me...
But cold stone is all I see.
-Mama Said, by Metallica
Ranma stepped back, wiping the sweat from his brow, the
training post quivering from his last flurry of punches. The bright
afternoon sun glinted off his bare chest as he took deep, calming
breaths, winding down from his workout. He cooled off quickly:
the air was crisp and fresh, carrying both a sharp edge hinting at the
coming winter, and the rich, cloying scent of fallen leaves and
cherry blossoms. Behind him, Kasumi was laying out the laundry to
dry, the shirts and pants and sheets billowing in the wind. Some
ditty she was cheerfully humming to herself drifted to his ears; he
couldn't make out the words, but it still brought a small smile to his
lips. The fathers were
playing shogi outside, enjoying tall glasses of iced tea and the
weekend sun, as Nabiki read a book, stretched out beneath the tree
by the pond, listening to a new CD on her discman.
Turning away from his exercise, he let out a contented sigh.
Ranma wandered over to the dojo steps while slipping on his shirt,
gingerly stepping around the shattered remains of cinder blocks. He
smirked slightly - trust Akane to spend such a beautiful day
smashing bricks. Oddly, though, her loud kiais had neither annoyed
nor disturbed him; instead, they had sounded, felt, just right.
Glancing around for her, he caught a glimpse of Akane heading into
the house. Ranma
found himself smiling at her retreating back, made a half-hearted
effort to stop, and kept on smiling.
Sitting on the stairs, he languidly stretched out his legs.
Everything just feels great today, he decided. What a beautiful day.
Akane straightened her gi, tightened her belt, and closed the
broom closet with one foot. She leaned back against the dor with a
small grin, feeling happy and relaxed - a mood all too unfamilliar to
her since Ranma and his father had arrived. But the last week had
been wonderful: Ranma had managed to remain at least civil at the
worst of times, polite and friendly at his best. And then there had
been the firework display two nights ago, at the carnival: their
shoulders had
brushed and their hands had joined, as they watched incandescent
showers bloom in the evening sky. She smiled at the memory.
And today - today had been perfect. No arguments, no snide
comments, just a wonderfully relaxed day of leisure. A soft grunting
reminded her that even P-Chan had found his way back, discovered
this morning by Kasumi. Her pet pig wandered out of the kitchen
and
toward the stairs, looking confused. She scooped him up from
behind and held him in a tight embrace.
"Does P-Chan want to help Akane sweep up her mess?" she
asked. The piglet nodded with a snuffle as she started to walk back
outside. She decided to sweep up the remains of the cinder blocks,
and then maybe go for a walk in the park. Seeing Ranma waiting for
her by the dojo, she wondered if maybe he would like to come as
well.
"It's such a nice day, isn't it, P-Chan?" she said, looking to
her pet. "I don't think anything. . ."
There was a sudden surprised yelp, quickly sliding upwards
an octave or two. Sighing Akane glanced outside. Ranma - now
female - was jumping around, screaming, something firmly attached
to her rear. When she reached over to grab it, it slid to the front,
fondling the redhead's breasts. Happosai. Well, he was bound to
show up eventually, thought Akane. It was probably Ranma's fault,
anyway. As she watched, Ranma tried pummelling the old man in
the head, only to
stumble backwards into the pond, losing her shirt in the process.
Well, maybe it _wasn't_ Ranma's fault. Maybe she should help her
out.
Akane took a step toward the door when the phone rang.
She glanced around, but everyone was busy: Nabiki turning up the
volume of her music, Kasumi protecting the laundry, her father
splitting his attention between the shogi game and Ranma's struggles
with the pervert.
"I'll get it!" she hollered, then muttered, "Not that any of you
probably heard it in the first place!" She reached the phone by the
fourth ring. Releasing P-Chan, she picked up the receiver.
"Hello? Tendo Residence," she said. A brief pause as she
listened. "The Saotomes? One second, please!" She placed the
phone down and headed back to the door.
"GIMME BACK MY SHIRT!" yelled Ranma, chasing after
the old man. With a leap she disappeared over the wall. Ok, guess
_he_ wasn't available for the phone, thought Akane. Maybe Mr.
Saotome. . .
Or maybe not. Judging by the panda bear playing shogi and
sipping iced tea, Mr. Saotome had been splashed during the brief
struggle. Akane shrugged and returned to the phone.
"I'm sorry, sir, but the Saotomes aren't, ah, available right
now. Can I take a message?" She listened intently as the voice over
the phone spoke. Her hand started to tremble, ever so slightly.
After a minute, she spoke in a wavering voice. "I. . . yes. Tha. . .
thank you." The receiver was carefully returned the receiver as she
took a deep breath. "Oh no. . ."
she whispered. She stood still for several moments, P-Chan looking
up at her in concern. Finally, she headed outside, her pet pig and
broom forgotten.
Akane told Mr. Saotome what the man on the phone had
said.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Ranma wearily hopped over the wall of the Tendo
household. What a day. From peace and calm and relaxation to. . .
well, what could only be called a six-hour martial arts marathon
through the streets of Nerima. He had finally caught the little creep,
though, and made him pay.
Since, by then, supper had long come and gone, a small stop by
Ucchan's had been in order. Probably better off that way, anyway -
Akane had been threatening to cook supper again. Although, he
admitted as he reached the door, she _had_ been getting better at it. .
. and her rice curry really wasn't all _that_ bad. He shrugged. I'm
sure she'll understand, he thought, then smirked. No, not likely.
He slid the door open, stepped into the family room - and
froze. The entire family was there, waiting. . . waiting for _him_
No. Not everyone. Akane was missing. And the tension in the air:
something was wrong, terribly, terribly wrong. He took them all in
at a glance: Nabiki's face a mask, unreadable, neutral, and carefully
controlled; Mr. Tendo with tears running down his cheeks (though
that wasn't anything special in itself); Genma, sitting next to him, a
contorted image of grief, back bent, body trembling, eyes puffy and
red from heavy crying, the tears obviously
barely held back. And Kasumi... even Kasumi appeared drawn and
pale, hands wringing nervously in the folds of her apron. Kasumi,
worried - that scared him most of all. A sick feeling formed in the
pit of his stomach.
"Hey! What. . . what's going on here?" he asked, closing the
door behind him, trying to hide the slight tremor that had crept into
his voice.
There was a subtle shifting, as Nabiki and Kasumi looked
expectantly, nervously, towards the two fathers. Mr. Tendo let out a
small sob, while Genma started to shake.
"Hey! What. . ." Ranma glanced around the table. "Wait!
Wh. . . where's Akane?" A sudden fear gripped his heart. Akane!
Where was she? Was she ok? What happened? "Is she. . ."
"Akane's fine," said Nabiki, her voice a chilling monotone.
"She's in her room." Ranma relaxed slightly, the terrible sensation
seeping from his chest.
"Oh." He tried to force a grin. "Hey, c'mon, her supper
couldn't have been _that_ bad!" he said.
His words sounded obnoxious even to him in the resounding
silence that followed them.
"What, did someone die or somethin'?" he desperately joked.
A terrible wracking sob tore itself from Genma's throat. An acrid
taste rose in Rama's throat. The hollowness returned to his belly.
He suddenly realized he was starting to tremble.
"WILL SOMEBODY TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON?" he
yelled. His father looked up, eyes rimmed red and filled with tears.
"Your mother. . ." croaked Genma, then was overcome by
another sob.
"WHAT ABOUT MOM?" He was at his father's side now,
grabbing the man by the collar of his gi. He hauled Genma off the
ground. "What happened? What's going on? ANSWER ME, OLD
MAN!" he shrieked, violently shaking him. Genma responded with
another sob.
"Your mother. . ." started a voice behind Ranma, hesitantly.
Ranma spun and saw Akane, her eyes and nose crimson, P-Chan
cradled in her arms. She had obviously been crying in her room;
even the pig appeared mournful.
Ranma dumped his father to the ground and looked at Akane
beseechingly. "What. . . what's happening, Akane?" he pleaded.
"Your mother. . . is dying, Ranma. She's in the hospital.
We've been waiting for you to get back, to go visit her.
"They say she probably. . . she probably won't live out the
week."
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
"Please understand. . . you won't be able to stay for very
long. She's very weak, and it's very late," whispered the nurse.
"I'm sorry." The nurse backed out of the room, softly closing the
door.
The figure lay upon the bed, the hospital bed sheets a sheath
tightly encasing her torso, arms uncovered and lying to her side.
Nodoka. Her face was pale and wan, drawn and tired looking even
in sleep; even her hair, once so beautiful and vibrant, lay in a
lackluster halo spread haphazardly across her pillow. Akane felt a
slight trembling in her lower lip, but resolved not to cry; she had to
be strong, if not for herself, then for Ranma.
Nodoka stirred slightly at the sound of the door clicking shut.
Opening her eyes, she looked at her visitors, and smiled; suddenly,
the Nodoka that Akane knew was back, the caring eyes and pleasant
face replacing the frail woman of a moment before. "Mr. Tendo!
Kasumi, Nabiki! And Akane! I'm glad you came," she said, her
voice still strong and cheerful. There was a pause, and then she
added. "Oh. . . Ranko couldn't make it. That's. . . too bad." She
sounded disappointed, or hurt.
There was a brief silence amplified by the tension in the
room. It was Soun who broke it. "Mrs. Saotome, " he started, his
voice carefully controlled. "We did not come alone. We brought. .
. visitors." Akane stepped aside with her sisters, as did their father.
Behind them, huddled together nervously, were Ranma and Genma.
Ranma was staring at the ground, but his father's eyes were locked
upon his wife.
"Husband," she whispered. "You came! At last. . ." Her
voice rose with expectation and hope. "And. . . and is that. . .
Ranma?"
Upon hearing his name Ranma's head slowly, hesitatingly,
rose, finally meeting his mother's expectant gaze. His face wore the
same mask he had slipped on since first leaving the house: a
carefully neutral expression that revealed little of what he felt. Yet
when Akane saw his eyes, she could tell, she _knew_, what he was
feeling: intense grief, burning shame, seething anger. Since when
have I understood what goes on in _his_ head, thought Akane, as
both father and son stepped forward, kneeling next to the bed.
"Mother. . ." whispered Ranma, enfolding Nodoka's hand in
his. "I. . ." His head drooped forward, forehead touching lightly
against their coupled hands. "I. . . I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Nodoka slowly reached over with the other arm, her hand
falling upon the back of Ranma's head like a benediction. "For
what?" she asked softly, smoothing down his pigtail, subduing his
trembling.
"For. . . not being here. Being with you. Being your son. . .
For leaving you behind," he whispered. "I. . ."
"Shhh. . ." she hushed. Her hand slid down his face,
caressing his cheek, lifting his head by the chin. "There is nothing to
be sorry for. You were with me. Where and when it most
mattered." She smiled at her son, who tentatively returned it.
Nodoka looked pleased, but to Akane, Ranma's smile seemed
terribly forced, a facade meant only to make his mother happy.
Nodoka drew her son into an embrce, arms weakly draped
around Ranma's neck, their foreheads meeting. "I'm so glad to
finally meet you, Ranma. Son. _My_ son."
Akane jumped slightly as she felt a hand fall on her shoulder.
"I think we should leave now." whispered Kasumi in her ear. "This
is their time together." Akane nodded numbly as her older sister
steered her out of the room, bringing Nabiki and her father as well.
"I'm so proud of you, my son," said Nodoka. "And of you,
husband, for raising him to be such a fine man. . ." Her words were
cut off as Kasumi firmly closed the door behind them. The
following silence in the darkened hospital hallway felt chilling to
Akane. She sat down heavily on a wooden bench near Nodoka's
room, lost in thought. What were they saying? What was Ranma
thinking? How was he taking this? Then her thoughts turned darker
as unpleasant memories intruded.
"Hey, you ok, sis?" Nabiki's voice interrupted her brooding.
"Huh?"
"I was asking if you were alright." Akane turned to face
Nabiki, who had seated herself next to her. Her face seemed as
impassive as ever, yet Akane thought she could detect a trace of
concern in it.
"Ye. . . Yes. Yes. I'm. . . ok. I was just thinking of
Ranma," said Akane.
"I'd wager that you weren't. . ."
"What?" Akane's eyebrows shot up at Nabiki's remark.
"You say you were thinking of Ranma, because that's the
right thing to say. But you weren't. You were thinking of Mom,
right?"
"I. . . yes. A little." Akane took in the entire hospital with a
sweep of her arm. "This hospital, that room, Mrs. Saotome in that
bed. . . it all made me think of her. Kinda. I was so young back
then. . ." She hesitated. "Is. . . is that wrong, Nabiki?"
Nabiki shrugged. "I dunno. Ask Kasumi - that's her
department. I'm not good with that stuff. All I know is that this is
gonna cost us a lot." She stood up, brushing her clothes off with
quick, sharp movements.
Akane felt appalled at Nabiki's statement, but bit back an
angry retort. Nabiki began walking away. "I need to get a breath of
fresh air. I'll be back in a couple of minutes," she said over her
shoulder.
"Nabiki. . ." said Akane. Her sister paused. "How. . . how
did you know that I was thinking? About mom?"
"Because. . ." Nabiki answered, a slight wavering in her
voice. "Because I was thinking the same thing." And she walked
away, quickly disappearing around a corner.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Wood shattered. Rock splintered and earth scattered as
Ranma vented his fury upon the dojo, its equipment and surrounding
terrain. With a final yell he sank to his knees, pounding his fists into
the ground with a dull thud, a dark shadow amidst pools of electric
light.
The Tendos watched from the safety of the house, unsure of
how to approach the enraged boy, apprehensive of his unrestrained
anger. "Wow. Ranma's really losing it!" muttered Nabiki.
"His mother, Nabiki. His mother," said Kasumi softly,
placing one hand on Nabiki's shoulder. "He's losing his mother."
Nabiki shrugged. "Well, somebody oughta go talk to him.
He's tearing the place apart."
They watched as Ranma staggered to his feet and into the
dojo. Moments later there was a loud smashing noise. Kasumi
winced, her grip tightening slightly on Nabiki's shoulder. "At least.
. ." she started, then hesitated.
Nabiki glanced at her elder sister questioningly. "What?"
"Pardon?"
"You said: 'At least. . .', then stopped. At least what?"
Kasumi winced slightly as a hole was torn in one of the
dojo's walls. "At least he's letting it out. . ." she said.
Nabiki snorted. "Oh yeah, lucky us. You have any idea how
much this is costing us? Where's that mighty martial artists' famed
discipline I keep hearing about?"
Kasumi shot her a slightly disapproving look. "I'm sure you
will think of a way to cover the costs, Nabiki. But for right now. . ."
she said, returning her attention to the dojo, "He needs to vent his
anger. It will be better in the long run. I remember when mother
died. I found a way to deal with the pain; so did Akane." She
paused for a moment. "Actually, Akane dealt with the pain in much
the same way that Ranma is now. Father understood as well that she
had to let it out. Pain like that. . . pain like that couldn't be, shouldn't
be held in." The hand on Nabiki's shoulder squeezed once. "I can't
imagine what it feels like, carrying that kind of pain inside every
day."
Nabiki was silent as Kasumi pulled away. Outside, two
figures silently crossed the distance from the house to dojo.
Akane glanced at Genma as they approached the training
hall. Beneath the glasses, his eyes were dark and slightly bloodshot,
a grim resolve apparent in his unflinching gaze; apart from that,
however, Akane found it impossible to determine what the man was
feeling or thinking. His quick, solid stride forced Akane to hurry
alongside him, almost stumbling in the late night darkness. A heavy,
moisture laden wind pulled at their clothes, carrying the scent of
imminent rain.
All too soon they arrived at their destination. Only then did
Genma hesitate, briefly, as a scream and crash escaped from the
building. His hand dropped from the door handle to his side,
quivering, fist clenched - and a moment later, gripped the door
frame and hurled it open.
Akane gasped at her first clear sight of Ranma. His hair was
wild, his clothes disheveled, face gaunt and flushed with anger. The
few lights in the dojo cast his shadow across the floor and onto the
far walls, where it danced threateningly over them all. He spun as
his father stepped into the training hall, pulling his fist from a hole in
the floor. Pulverized cinder blocks and wrecked equipment
surrounded him.
"Ranma!" stated Genma in a stern voice. "This must. . . "
"Shut up, old man. . ." growled Ranma.
"No! You WILL listen to. . ."
"SHUT UP!" screamed the boy, launching himself at his
father. Genma stood unflinching till the last moment, sidestepping,
grappling, and throwing his son to the ground.
"Listen to me, boy! You can't keep tearing the dojo apart!
We are _guests_ here! I understand that you're hurt. . ."
Ranma stared at his father as he slowly regained his feet.
"You understand? You _understand_?" His tone turned venomous.
"How could _you_ understand, old man? You have no idea what
I'm feeling; no one does!" Ranma stared down at the ground,
trembling with rage. "You were there, you heard. . . she called me
honorable. She called me brave and strong and manly. Manly!" He
gave a bitter laugh then shot a hateful look at his father.
"But it's a lie! All lies!" he spat the words out through
clenched teeth. "All of it! Honorable? How often have I lied to
her, how many times have I played Ranko to save my own life?
Brave? Not brave enough to tell her the truth! Strong? No, weak. .
. too weak to stand up against your stupid ideas! Manly?" He
slowly sank to his knees, falling back on his haunches, back bent.
"Yeah, right. . ."
Genma softened as his son crumbled before him. Taking a
step forward, he placed a comforting hand on Ranma's shoulder.
"Son. . ." he began softly.
Ranma's head snapped up, eyes blazing. "I am _not_ your
son, old man. . ." he snarled. Before the man could move, Ranma
rose, twisted, grabbed him by the arm and hurtled him across the
dojo. Akane watched in shock as Mr. Saotome smashed into the far
wall and tumbled to the ground in a heap. Slowly struggling to his
feet, he tried to speak. "Ranma. Son. Don't. . . Listen. . ."
"NO!" growled Ranma, running toward the dazed figure.
"Don't you _dare_ tell me what to do, old man! Don't you _ever_
dare tell me what to do. . . Never. Again!" His kick caught Genma
in the stomach, doubling him over; he fell to the ground as Ranma
hooked his father's legs and tore them out from beneath him.
"This is all _your_ fault! It's your fault I'm a girl!" he
slammed his fist into Genma, screaming, with each statement. "It's
your fault I never told mom the truth! Your fault she thinks I'm
Ranko, your fault she never had a son, your fault I wasn't with her,
couldn't protect her, couldn't know her, couldn't save her. . ." Never
once did Ranma's father try to dodge, or block, or break free -
instead, he silently absorbed his son's rage, eyes squeezed shut with
pain.
Finally Ranma stopped and hauled Genma up by the collar.
"Why don't you defend yourself, old man?!"
The battered man flinched away from his son's glare. "I. . . I
can't. . ."
"What kind of father are you?" demanded Ranma in a hoarse
whisper.
Tears spilled from Genma's eyes as he saw the hurt and hate
etched in his son's face. "I'm sorry. . . son."
For several moments Ranma held him, Genma limp in his
grasp. Slowly, the boy's arm started to quiver. "Not. Good.
ENOUGH!" He screamed, releasing Genma and fiercely kicking
him in the stomach. The older man went flying backwards, crashing
through the wall and out of sight. "Not. . . enough. . ." mumbled
Ranma. "Never enough. . ."
As Akane watched, he slowly sank to his knees.
Ryoga watched from the doorway as Akane hesitated,
walked forward, stood behind Ranma, her hand falling gently on the
pig-tailed boy's shoulder. His rival started slightly at her touch,
then reached back with one hand and clasped hers. Ranma's eyes
never left the floor, Akane never spoke a word, the two perfectly
still in the flickering pale light. For once Ryoga realized that he
didn't feel any jealousy or animosity towards his enemy.
I've often wished Ranma dead, thought Ryoga. I've wanted
him hurt, tortured, punished for all the pain and misery he's inflicted
on my life. But this. . . _this_ I would have never wished upon him.
Even if he brought this pain upon himself. . . even if he blames his
father for everything. . . he doesn't deserve this. Ryoga watched as
Akane kneeled before her fiance, taking both his hands into hers.
She said something, words of comfort and reassurance, spoken so
softly that Ryoga couldn't make them out. He looked away.
"I'll have my revenge on you someday, Saotome," he
whispered under his breath. "Just. . . not today." Ryoga turned
away from the dojo.
". . . it's ok for you to cry, you know." said Akane softly.
"There's no shame in it."
Ranma shook his head in denial, eyes still downcast. Akane
sighed. "Listen, Ranma. . ."
"NO! You listen!" interrupted Ranma, sounding upset. "You
weren't there, Akane. You didn't hear what she said, how happy she
was to see me, how happy she was that I was a _man_. A manly
man.
"And that. . . that's why I can't cry. Not for her, not for my
mom. I'm a man. Even with this curse, I'm a man. And if there's
one thing men don't do. . . it's cry. For as long as she lives, I won't
betray the image she has of her son. I can't betray that image, that
idea. . . it's all I've ever given her, all I _can_ give her, to make up
for all those lost years. So don't ask me to cry, don't tell me it's ok. .
. 'cus it's not." Ranma raised his head, looked at Akane, his eyes
seeming to beg for understanding, for support.
Akane sadly shook her head from side to side. How could
he think that, how could he honestly believe such a thing? Seeing
Ranma's eyes narrow in anger, she sighed. "I knew you wouldn't
understand. . ." he muttered.
Akane slowly stood. Ranma's features were mostly cast into
obscurity in the darkened dojo, her shadow overwhelming his
crouched figure yet melding with it on the far wall. She walked
over to the doorway, looking up at the night sky. The district lights
obscured most of the stars, but the few strong ones shone through.
"You were wrong about one thing, Ranma," she said, speaking softly
but clearly. "Some people _do_ understand what you're going
through."
She heard a bitter laugh from behind as Ranma stood up.
"Yeah, right," he said. "Like who?"
"I do."
There was a deep silence. She heard Ranma walk up behind
her, till she could almost feel his body pressing against her back.
She heard him take a deep, ragged breath. "Really?" he asked, his
voice hoarse.
She nodded without turning.
"Then what am I feeling?"
An all too familiar pain surfaced in her chest; the passage of
time had dulled its edge but never its intensity, and unbidden tears
nearly sprang to her eyes. Her instinct was to shy away from the
unpleasant emotion. But she couldn't - not if she were to help
Ranma. Memories awoke in Akane: memories of sitting on her bed,
sobbing, the loss of her mother a physical agony strong enough to
make her want to curl up into a ball, to wrap around the hollowness
in her stomach; of standing by her mother's death-bed, struggling to
remain strong, consumed from within by a sense of terrible
weakness and impotent rage; or, weeks after the death, stumbling
across a forgotten artifact of her mother's - a brush, perhaps, or
some trinket that, not long ago, had seemed so meaningless - and
feeling the grief well up and fill her, like an ill-healed scab
suddenly torn open, and she would wail or lash out or simply
collapse. . .
Now, though, those terrible feelings from the past were
buffered, for each painful memory carried with it one of comfort:
Akane could remember Kasumi wrapping her comforting arms
around her and gently rocking her; or holding hands with a
stony-faced Nabiki as their mother
slept away her final hours; or her father gently taking her and
holding her and telling her the story of the item's significance. But
the pain was still there, and real. . . and she _could_ understand.
"Oh, Ranma. . ." she said. "I lost my mother, too, you know. . . I
remember the pain, the feeling of loss. . . and the anger at not being
able to do anything."
She turned around to face him. 'I understand. . ." she started
to say, but then fell silent at the sudden bitter look on his face.
"That's it? And. . . you think you understand?" he whispered
coldly. "You understand?" his eyes glittered dangerous as he glared
at her.
"I. . . I. . ." she started to utter, hesitantly.
"So you lost you mom! So what? So _what_?" His voice
turned venomous. "Pain. . . loss? You think. . . you. . . Anger! No.
No. I won't. . . I can't talk about this. . . not with _you_. Just. . . just
go away!"
Akane shied away from Ranma. Hurt, bordering on fear,
chilled her. "Ranma, I. . . I can help!"
"No you can't!"
"Yes! I can. . . I can under. . . you can _make_ me
understand!"
For a moment, he was silent, and Akane wondered if maybe
she was getting through to him; but them, she noticed that he was
starting to shake slightly, his face darkening, his fists clenching so
tightly the knuckles were turning white. "Go. Away," he hissed.
"But I. . ."
"I DON'T WANT YOUR HELP!" he screamed. "I DON'T
WANT YOUR UNDERSTANDING!"
Akane fell back before Ranma's overwhelming rage and
sorrow, and he continued to advance on her.
"_You_ were a kid when you mom died," he said, his voice
lower but no less fierce. "She knew who you were! You never had
to hide from her! You never had to lie to her! You never had to act
the stranger, reaching for your mother but never, never being able to
touch her!"
Akane stumbled out the dojo door, into the cool night air,
down the wooden steps.
Ranma stopped and loomed over her, cast into silhouette by
the light beaming from the open doorway. "Ranma. . . why. . . ?" she
pleaded, looking up at him. She could feel his gaze staring down at
her, though his face was hidden in darkness.
"Go away, Akane," he stated coldly. "I don't want to see
you; I don't want to hear you; I don't want your advice, and I most
certainly don't want you sympathy. Just leave me alone." He stared
down at her for several long moments and then, without another
word, he turned away.
Akane opened her mouth to answer, to scream or cry or yell
back, but all that came out was a strangled sob. Breaking out into
fierce crying, she fled back to the house.
Ranma staggered to the centre of the dojo. "Akane. . ." he
whispered, wrapping his arms around himself. "I. . . I'm sor. . ."
"You know, Ranma, sometimes you surprise even me,"
interrupted a voice from behind. He turned to see Ryoga stepping
through the hole in the wall left by Genma's exit. "To do that to
Akane, to hurt her like that. . . that's real low, even for you." Ryoga
leaned back against the wall, arms folded across his chest.
"Get lost, Ryoga," said Ranma, turning away.
Ryoga smirked. "You know, I was going to leave. I had no
intention of getting involved. Then I heard what you said to Akane."
He leaned forward slightly, lips twisting into a scowl. "There's no
way I can let that go unpunished, you know."
"Leave. Now." Ranma slowly turned. He smiled - and it
was in no way friendly, or nice. "Before I hurt you, pig-boy.
Before I hurt you bad." He took a threatening step forward.
Ryoga shook his head. "No. Not till I've had my say."
Ranma stared at his rival. "If you don't go. . . I'll tell Akane
that you're P-Chan."
Ryoga gave a mean-spirited chuckle. "Oh, yeah, sure,
Ranma. Very honorable. Mother would be proud, I'm sure."
Ranma froze. He began to shake in anger, fists trembling at
his side, face contorting with rage. His mouth worked wordlessly,
incoherently, a low growl rumbling at the back of his throat.
With a slight, savage smile, Ryoga walked forward, towards
the dojo's door. He paused as he passed by his rival, who was still
quivering with rage, and stared him straight in the eyes. "It's all
your own fault, you know. . ." said Ryoga softly. "You blame your
father, you blame your curse, but there's no one to blame but
yourself. You had the chances, you had the time. . . you could've
told her, faced her, let her know who and what you are."
Ranma hand snaked out and latched onto Ryoga's throat.
"Shut. Up," he hissed.
Ryoga smiled. "Brave, Ranma. Really brave. Isn't that
what your mom called you?" The grip tightened. Despite himself,
Ryoga reached up and grabbed Ranma's arm - and found it solid and
unmovable.
"Oh yeah," he rasped, still smiling. "Really strong. . . but
not strong enough to hear the truth. Like a man. If only your mom
could see you now." The grip tightened again, cutting off all air. . .
and then dropped away, Ranma's hand falling limply at his side.
Ryoga's hand went instinctively to his throat at the release,
coughing as air reentered his lungs. For several long moments, as
he sucked in grateful gasps of oxygen, he matched Ranma's hateful
glare solidly and unflinchingly. Ryoga's smirk slowly faded, until,
finally, a very serious expression dominated - and then he turned
and walked away, speaking over his shoulder. "But of course, she
can't. It's too late, now. And it's your fault.
"It's time you face your responsibilities like a man. For
ruining my life. For ruining Akane's. For ruining your mother's.
Hell, for even ruining your own. There's no one to blame. . . but
yourself." Ryoga reached the door and turned to face a livid Ranma
one last time before leaving. "We'll settle the score some other
time. Defeating you now would be. . . wrong. Not the actions of a
honorable martial artist." He paused. "You know, I was going to
leave on a training voyage, Ranma. But now. . . I can't. After what
you said to Akane, how you hurt her. . . it's my duty to go and
comfort her."
"I'll never forgive you for this. . ." snarled Ranma.
Ryoga smirked a final time before disappearing into the
night.
Ranma watched as Ryoga stepped away. Anger drained
away, leaving only cold emptiness and bitter pain. Ryoga's words. .
. hurt. Hurt. . . because they were true. It was his own fault. His
mom. . . she should've know, should have been told, she didn't have
to live alone, without family, without husband and son. And all
because he had been too afraid to face her. Ryoga was right.
And now Ranma was alone. Everyone had been driven
away: his father, battered; Akane, battered as well, emotionally;
and finally Ryoga, the bastard, the pig, probably already snuggled
up with Akane in her bed. How could he?, thought Ranma. How
could he say such things?
Because they're true, whispered back a part of his mind.
Because you needed to hear it, instead of pinning everything on your
father.
Ranma squeezed his eyes shut.
She can't die!, he thought.
I barely even know her!
I should've been with her!
If I had been... maybe she wouldn't be sick.
I. . .
I won't cry. I won't. I'm a man. Men don't cry.
And then he was sanding in the corner of the dojo, staring
down at a bucket of water.
Men don't cry. . .
Moments later, wet and shivering, Ranma slumped down in
the corner. The first wracking sob tore itself from her chest;
unwilling tears soon followed.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
"Ranma?"
He looked around upon hearing his name. "Oh. Hi,
Kasumi." Stretching his legs, he shuffled over a bit on the wooden
bench. "Want to sit down?"
"Thank you," she said, taking a seat. There was an
uncomfortable silence, during which Kasumi smoothed out the
wrinkles in her dress.
Ranma cleared his throat. "Ah. . .. so where's everybody
else?"
Kasumi smiled slightly. "They are on their way. I left a
little early."
He nodded. His eyes stared at the door across the hallway
from them: Nodoka's. Kasumi, noticing the intensity of his gaze,
placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Is that where you have
been all morning?" she asked softly.
Ranma nodded.
"How is she doing?"
Ranma shoulder's sagged slightly. "Not. . ." he started in a
husky voice, then cleared his throat. "Not well. She. . . she's dying,
Kasumi. She already looks worse than yesterday." His words
sounded thick with suppressed emotions. She reached over and
placed an arm around him, in a sisterly embrace; he stiffened
slightly at her touch, then relaxed.
"And. . . how are _you_ doing, Ranma?" she asked.
He shrugged. "Fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
The was a moment of silence before Kasumi spoke up again.
"We were worried about you last night. . ."
He withered slightly at her statement. "I. . . I'm sorry about
the dojo. Really. I'll find a way to fix it, or pay for. . ." He trailed
off as Kasumi shook her head, turning him slightly to face her.
"No. That's not what I meant. Where _were_ you last night,
Ranma? You didn't come home, and we couldn't find you in the
morning. Mr. Saotome wasn't talking," she noticed Ranma's frown
at the mention of his father, "and Akane said she didn't know."
Ranma winced upon hearing Akane's name. "Kasumi, how. .
. how is she? Akane, I mean. Is she. . . alright?"
Kasumi nodded. "She will be. She hid herself in her room,
crying, after talking to you in the dojo. She was very upset, Ranma."
Ranma wilted further at her words. "Did you. . . did you talk
to her?"
Kasumi shook her head, and smiled slightly. "No. I didn't
have to. Nabiki did."
"Nabiki?"
She nodded. "Yes. I don't know what they talked about, but
Akane looked better by the time she went to sleep."
"That. . . that's good. I'll have to talk to her, I guess."
"I think that would be a good idea." agreed Kasumi. Ranma
sighed, and fell silent. He watched as a doctor and nurse walked by
with hurried steps, speaking in hushed tones.
"So where were you?" said Kasumi.
"Oh. Oh yeah. Sorry. I slept in the dojo last night. I cr. . . I
fell asleep soon after Akane left. I woke up in the middle of the
night and went for a walk. A long walk. I got here when the
hospital opened." He jerked his thumb at his mother's room. "I've
been in there since then. Talking with her." He sighed and looked
away, gazing down the hall with a far away look in his eyes. "Well,
more like I talked _to_ her. She wanted me to tell her about my life,
so I did.
"I don't even know if she was awake for most of it, how
much she heard. I think she kept drifting in and out. But I. . .
I. . . I kept on talking. About my trip, the training, the places I
stayed. About you guys, living at the Tendo Dojo. Mostly about you guys.
Akane and me. I'm not even sure what I've told her. I dunno, I
wasn't thinking, I was watching her the whole time, memorizing her
face, her features, watching her breathe in and out." He turned his
attention back to Kasumi. "Did you know I look a lot like her? As a
girl, I mean. I could've been her daughter. It's strange that I never
noticed it before. Guess I never looked closely enough. Guess I
was too busy hiding from her. . ."
"Ranma. . ." said Kasumi, giving him a slight hug.
He shook his head and took a deep breath. "Well, whatever.
Anyway. Eventually, she fell asleep - a real sleep. My throat was
raw, and the nurse came to tell me I oughta let my mom rest. So I
came out here and waited. That was about an hour ago."
Ranma fell silent. Kasumi pulled away. "Ranma? I'm going
to visit a few friends of mine who work here. . . will you be
alright?"
He nodded without a word. Kasumi stood up and headed
down the corridor. She had some visits she wanted to make, and
little time to do it. Her father and sisters would be arriving soon.
When Kasumi returned, the rest of the family had just
arrived. They were standing clustered together uncomfortably by
the door to Nodoka's room. Ranma was standing apart from the
group, back turned to them. He was the first to notice Kasumi's
arrival.
"Everyone's here," he said without turning. With that, he
opened the door, and led everyone in.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
The evening lights were cast into nebulous blurs, seen
through the rain-spattered window-pane of Akane's room. Chill
winds hummed against the protection the glass offered her.
Abstractly, she felt thankful for the warmth it provided, and yet,
perversely, an urge to throw the window open and allow the cold to
gust in filled her. With a sigh, she reached up and pulled the
curtains shut; she could find little comfort, and no answers, outside,
in the dark.
Leaning back from her desk, Akane tried to force order upon
her chaotic thoughts. But the jumble of images tumbling through her
mind, - Ranma, holding his mother's hand, swearing his one word
oath, - Ranma, female, eyes dulled, passion dimmed, watching her
mother leave after another failed visit, - Ranma, fading, tearing into
the forest, enraged, leaving a guilt-ridden Akane behind to deal with
her memory - lapsed self-appointed charge, - Akane, standing,
alone, by the water's edge, fingering the tattered yellow scarf she
had given him, he had given back to her, - Her hand, in his, a bond
that no one had yet broken, - would not be stilled.
"Oh, Ranma. . ." she whispered, burying her head in her
hands. "Why? Why did you say 'yes'?"
A perfunctory knock interrupted her, the door thrown open
before Akane had time to answer or turn around. She didn't need to,
though - it could only be Nabiki.
"I can't believe this!" exclaimed the older sister, striding into
the room. "This is. . . this is insane! How could that, that. . .
manipulative bitch!. . . ask that of him? And how could he, how
_dare_ he, agree?"
"Nabiki!" exclaimed Akane.
"Well it's true!" Nabiki stopped her pacing and turned on
her sister. "She's _using_ him, sis! Her own son. She's exploiting
the guilt and shame and his twisted sense of honor to get him to do
what _she_ thinks is right!"
"Nabiki! She isn't. . ."
"Yes, she is." said Nabiki, cutting her off. "Listen, this is
_Ranma_ were talking about. He's _easy_ to manipulate; trust me
on this one, I know what I'm talking about. You've just got to know
which buttons to press. . . and Mrs. Saotome. . . well, she's pushing
all the right ones, and I doubt it's by accident!"
The chair scraped against the floor as Akane angrily stood.
"How could you?" she demanded. "How could you say such things
about Mrs. Saotome? Especially when. . . when she's all, all sick
and dying like that!"
Nabiki turned and stared at her for a moment before
answering. "Don't you get it? That's the whole point! She _knows_
she's dying, she. . ."
"NO!" exclaimed Akane. "I won't believe that! Mrs.
Saotome is, is. . . is like Kasumi! Sweet and caring and loving... not
devious and manipulative." She pointed an accusing finger at
Nabiki. "Just because _you_ are that way doesn't mean everyone
else is! You're just seeing. . ."
Nabiki cut her off with a glare. "I'll let that one slip by, sis,"
she said coldly, "'Cus I know it's been hard on you." She took a
deep breath and spun away, eaching for the door. "And I'll be back
when you're ready to talk."
The younger sister hesitated only briefly. "I'm sorry."
Akane mumbled. "I. . . I didn't mean to say that, Nabiki. Really."
She turned back to the window, hanging her head with a sigh. "It's
just that today. . . I, I guess I'm still a little in shock."
A moment later Nabiki hugged her from behind. "I know.
I'm sorry too." She held the embrace for a moment before pulling
away. "Listen, I. . . you. . . you're probably right. About Ranma's
mom. I'm probably just imagining things." Releasing her sister, she
sat on the edge of the bed. "It's just that I'm worried, sis. About
you."
"Me?"
"Yeah."
"Don't be." Akane parted the curtains slightly, looking
outside once more. "I'll. . . figure something out. I can take care of
myself."
Nabiki watched her sister from the bed, then flopped down
on her back, staring at the ceiling. The bed creaked slightly as
Akane joined her on the bed, then stretched out as well. Time
slipped by before anyone said anything. "You got any idea what
you're going to do?" asked the older sister, speaking to the ceiling.
"Me?"
"Yeah."
"Of course. . ." she started, then died off. A moment later
she tried again. "No. What can _I_ do? It's out of my hands, isn't
it?"
"WHAT?" cried Nabiki, turning one her side to face Akane.
"How can you say that? It has _everything_ to do with you! It's
_up_ to you! It can't happen _without_ you!"
"But. . ."
"But what? Just 'cus the adults think they can do this without
consulting you doesn't mean you have to go along with it, you
know!"
"It's. . . it's not that, Nabiki. . ."
Nabiki paused, and an incredulous look spread across her
features. "You. . . you don't actually want to. . . to go though with it,
do you?"
"NO!" Akane took a deep breath. "No. Of course not. But,
but it's just that. . . I don't know! I. . . just don't want him to leave. . .
not again, not like this."
Nabiki rolled back, rejoining Akane in her introspection of
the ceiling. Well, what she could see of it, that is - with the lights
off, and the curtains closed, the room was quite dark, save for a
sliver of light beaming in from beneath the door, accompanied by
the faint bustle of Kasumi cooking from the kitchen.
"I still can't believe he said 'yes'. . ." said Akane after a
while, breaking the contemplative silence.
"I can," muttered Nabiki. "But for all the wrong reasons.
He's so full of guilt, of, of. . . loathing and self-pity, he'd probably
do anything his mom asked. What gets me, though, is the way
Ranma's mom. . ."
. . .stared deep into her son's eyes. "My son. . . my brave,
manly son. . ." she said, eyes glimmering, seemingly blind to the
effect each word was having on Ranma, "You have exceeded my
every expectation. You have grown up to be a man among men. I. .
. I may die soon. . . but I die happy, knowing that I have not failed
you."
He drew in a ragged breath, confronted with his mother's
smiling, trusting, painfully withered face. "I. . . mo. . . mom. I. . ."
"There is. . . there is only one thing that I lack," she
continued. "One thing that I would ask of you, son."
Ranma straightened slightly, face hardening, eyes refusing to
flinch away from his mother's pleading gaze. "Anything, mother.
For you. . . I will do anything."
"I know. . ." she whispered, looking away for a moment.
She sighed weakly, then turned back to her son. "Son. . . There is
but one thing that I had hoped and prayed to see before I died. But
your father has failed in that regard. . . and now I must turn to you."
Ranma broke away from his mother long enough to glare at
Genma in fury, before returning to Nodoka. "Mom. Mother.
Whatever. . . Father. . . didn't get done, or screwed up. . . I promise
I'll set right." He gave his mom's and a light squeeze. "I _promise_.
On my honor. I won't fail you."
Nodoka smiled. "I. . . I'm glad to hear that. But I don't think
you fully understand. I'm not asking you to embark on a quest, or to
fight some foe. Those, your father has well prepared you for; this. .
. this is something that will prove far more difficult, I fear. I. . . I. .
." She hesitated.
"Mom? Please. Ask me. Anything. . ."
"I would like to see you married. Before I die. Would you
marry Akane? Would you marry her. . . for me?"
Ranma hesitated for only a moment. His face never faltered.
Nothing betrayed his feelings. In a voice devoid of emotion, he
gave his answer.
"Yes. Mother."
"'Yes, _mother_'?" exclaimed Nabiki. "What kind of answer
is that? Not 'yes, I'll marry Akane', not 'Akane. . . would you marry
me?', not even a simple 'yes!'. Why's he doing this? Because he
wants _you_, his fiancee?" Her voice turned acidic as she
continued. "Or because
he's being a good little boy, and doing as mommy asked him?"
Akane flinched at her sister's caustic tone. "Nabiki. Please.
This might be hard on me. . . but it must be a lot harder on him.
Remember? That's what _you_ said, last night, after. . . after Ranma
and I. . . fought." The memory of last night still stung; she might
understand _why_ he said and did what he did, or at least _think_
she understood. . . but it didn't make her feel much better.
"Yeah." said Nabiki, and sighed. "I know. It's just that. . ."
A sudden soft knocking on the door interrupted her. Both
girls turned as light from the hallway beamed in, bathing them in its
warm, golden light. They blinked as Kasumi stepped into the room.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" the eldest sister said, smiling. "Why were you two
sitting here in the dark?"
Akane gave a despondent smile. "Nabiki and I were just
trying to figure out what I was should do. She's against the
marriage."
"And you?" inquired Kasumi softly.
"I. . . don't know."
Both younger sisters looked up at Kasumi expectantly. She
simply smiled happily at them before turning away. "I'm sure
everything will turn out fine." she said. "They always do. Oh, and
supper will be served in five minutes."
Nabiki and Akane shared an incredulous glance as Kasumi's
steps faded down the stairs. "You know, she's my sister, and I love
her dearly. . . but sometimes I wonder if she's living in the same
world as the rest of us," said Nabiki, shaking her head.
Akane nodded in mute agreement.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *
"I'm sorry that supper was so simple tonight," said Kasumi
apologetically. "I was a bit rushed."
The meal laid out before them was, indeed, simplistic -
well, by Kasumi standards, thought Nabiki wryly. Compared to
anything she, or, god forbid, Akane, could come up with, it was
wonderful. Unfortunately, the quality of the food was ruined by the
sombre mood that hung over the table. The tension was almost
palpable - and the fact that Ranma wasn't around didn't lessen it any.
Where _was_ that idiot, anyway? He'd been missing ever since
they'd left the hospital! She
continued to idly chew on a piece of meat, mulling over her sister's
predicament. The rain continued unabated outside.
"Excuse me. . . Father?" Kasumi's inquiry cut off Nabiki's
contemplation. Soun seemed to shake himself out of some silent
revery of his own and turned toward his eldest daughter. "I know
now might not be the best of times, but I have some errands I
absolutely must run tonight." She glanced down at her watch. "I'll
have to leave in about five minutes if I'm to get them done in time. If
you don't mind, that is. . ."
Soun stared at her blankly for a few moments before nodding
once and returning absently to his meal. As Kasumi stepped away
from the table with some dirty dishes intended for the kitchen,
Nabiki wondered why her father seemed so preoccupied. She
would have expected him to be overjoyed by Ranma's acceptance of
Nodoka's request - after all, it was what he and Saotome had wanted
for so long. Neither of them had ever seemed to care by what means
the two got
married, or whether their children even _wanted_ to do so. Perhaps
it had something to do with Mr. Saotome. The man had barely said
a thing since his fight with Ranma last night, and now sat silently
across from his friend, his food left untouched. He must _really_ be
out of sorts, thought Nabiki. It was hard to tell which was hurting
him more - the encroaching death of his wife, or the apparent
distancing of his son. Remembering what Akane and told her, how
Ranma had turned on his father in the dojo, Nabiki would have bet
on the latter; Genma had survived just fine for ten years without his
wife. . . but he had spent the last sixteen in constant bonding with his
son.
Nabiki watched as Kasumi stepped out of the kitchen. The
younger sister absently followed the elder one with her eyes as she
headed upstairs. Kasumi paused halfway up the stairs, letting out a
mild exclamation of surprise.
"Oh. . . my. . ." she said, stepping aside.
"Sorry, Kasumi," mumbled a male voice, and a moment later
Ranma appeared, heading downstairs. The assembled family
watched mutely as Ranma, after a brief pause, entered the room.
"Ra. . . Ranma," said Akane softly.
He paused. The two fiances exchanged a look, a moment,
saying nothing for several long seconds, until, finally, he wearily
turned his head away and down. "I'm sorry. . ." he said, crossing to
the door.
"Where have you been, son?" asked Mr. Tendo, voice kept
carefully neutral. "We haven't seen you since the hospital."
The boy slipped on one of his shoes. "I'm. . . sorry. I was. .
. thinking. I needed to be alone."
"Where are you going, Ranma?" He turned as Kasumi
reentered the room, obvious concern marring her features. "Back to
the hospital?"
He shook his head. "For a walk. I'm going for a walk." He
slid the other foot into its shoe and gripped the door. "I need to. . ."
I can't believe this jerk, thought Nabiki angrily. How _dare_
he? She sprang to her feet. "You can't just take off, Saotome!
We've. . . you've got to talk this through. With Akane. You can't just
expect my little sister to do as you say! This has to be. . ."
The hand gripping the doorframe shook slightly. He spoke
without turning, voice strained. "I'm going. For a walk." He threw
the door open with a jerk, almost knocking it out of its track. A
bitter, moist wind blew in. He almost seemed surprised by the rain
and took a half-step back.
Behind him, Akane slowly rose to her feet, hands clasped
before her. "Ranma, please. . ." she asked, a note of pleading
entering her voice.
He bowed his head. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I need. . . to
go for a walk." There was a moment's hesitation, an ever so slight
flinching in his first step. . . and then she stood outside, soaked, hair
and clothing immediately plastered to her skin. As the family
watched on, she slowly trudged into the darkness and the falling
rain.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
"What am I going to do?" asked Akane out loud. No answer
was forthcoming though, the silence of her unilluminated room
unbroken save for the faint sounds of arguing from downstairs -
Nabiki angrily attacking father and Mr. Saotome about the wedding.
She almost wished something would happen - a fight breaking out,
perhaps, or some ludicrously chaotic event - anything to take her
mind off of Ranma's promise. No. What she really wanted was for
him to knock on her door, enter, sit on the edge of her bed, and they
could. . . what? Talk it through, maybe. Convince him to change his
mind. Or something.
But, no. It wasn't going to happen. Ranma had made it
perfectly clear that he had no desire to talk to anyone, that he wanted
to be alone. Yet she felt herself straining unconsciously, hoping to
hear a sudden subtle rapping, or light steps approaching, or, or. . .
anything, that would indicate his presence. She listened in vain, of
course.
No. Not in vain, Akane realized, hearing a faint snuffling
and familiar scratching at her door. Smiling slightly despite herself,
she crossed her room and opened the door. P-Chan glanced up at
her before waddling in. She silently closed the door and scooped
up the little pig, hugging it to her in a tight embrace.
"Oh, P-Chan. . . what am I going to do?" she murmured,
dropping back onto her bed. She held the pet above her at arms
length, where it looked down at her curiously; with the lights out, the
curtains shut, the eyes gleamed whitely, its body blending with the
shadows. It gave a soft grunt in response to her question. "I really
wish you could understand me, P-Chan. I could sure use someone to
talk to. . ." The pig gave a sympathetic squeal and tried to nuzzle
her hand. It brought a slight smile to her lips. For some reason, she
never felt stupid talking to her pet pig. He might only be an animal,
but he really _did_ seem to understand. And he was a good listener.
. . unlike a certain baka she knew. "You _will_ listen to me, won't
you, my little baby?" she cooed.
The piglet nodded and waited.
Akane lowered her pet down onto the bed and ran a hand
through her hair. This is crazy. . ., she thought glumly, I'm talking to
a pig. A very _smart_ pig, she admitted, glancing at P-Chan who
was waiting patiently at her side, but a pig nonetheless. The only
_pig_ she wanted to talk to was Ranma - that idiot! How could he
just run off like that? But that look they had shared, that moment
right before he left for his 'walk' - there had been a. . . pleading in
his eyes, a sorrowful begging. . . but for what? For her to agree?
Or for forgiveness, for imposing the marriage, or the request, upon
her? Or maybe he was asking her _not_ to agree.
"Ohhhh, that _baka_!" she growled. "What does he _want_?
Why couldn't he just _talk_ to me? Why'd he have to go for some
stupid walk in the first place. . . especially when it's raining!" Why
_did_ he have to take a walk? Akane considered that for a moment:
perhaps _that_ was what he's tried to convey with his glance - that
he needed her to understand that, right now, he still needed to be
alone, to think. "He's been thinking all day!" she muttered in
frustration. "Now it's time to talk this through! Nabiki's right - it's
_my_ decision. . . I don't _have_ to get married just 'cus his mother
wants us to!"
P-Chan's surprised and outraged squeal made her jump. She
smiled as she turned to her pet. "Oh, that's right, my little P-Chan. . .
I guess you didn't know." she said, hugging him to her. "Mrs.
Saotome asked Ranma to marry me before she dies. . . Ranma
agreed. . . and. . . and I don't know what to do." The piglet's eyes
opened wide in disbelief. It bweed at her questioningly.
"Do I _want_ to marry him? Nabiki asked the same thing,
and I told her I didn't. But, really. . . I don't know. I really don't. I.
. . I think. . . I. . ." she sighed. "I just wished I knew what Ranma
thinks about all this. Does _he_ want to get married? I don't think I
could marry him without knowing. . . did he do it because he wants
to, because he. . . he lo. . . loves me. . . or because Mrs. Saotome
asked him to do it?" She looked down into P-Chan's eyes. "What
do you think, P-Chan? Do you think he loves me? Do you think I
should marry him?"
The piglet shook his head vehemently at both questions.
She smiled slightly. "You don't like Ranma, do you? I
know. . . he can be such a jerk sometime. . . so rude, and mean,
insulting and cruel and insensitive and stupid. . . he's a pervert and a
womanizer. . . and he beats up on my wonderful little pet, too. . ."
she finished, giving the piglet
a squeeze, who nodded emphatically with each statement. Then she
rolled over onto her side, clasping her hands together and leaning
her head against them. "But then. . . sometimes. . . I don't know. . .
he's just always _there_ for me. Whenever I need him most, he's
there. And not just when I'm in some stupid kind of danger. . . but
when I'm sad, or angry, and need to let it out, even when I'm. . .
lonely. And sometimes, sometimes, we. . . share this look, or a
touch, and the look in his eyes, it's, it's. . . impossible to explain, it,
it almost _hurts_, the way it makes me feel inside." She sighed.
P-Chan gave a sad little snuffle, his little head drooping. "I know,
pathetic, isn't it, P-Chan? Two days ago, everything was so simple.
. . everything was fine, we were even getting along. . . and now. . .
now, I have to decide wether to go along with this. . . _without_ that
baka's help. It's all up to me.
"It. . . It's all up to me."
She sat up, displacing her pig. He climbed up into her lap,
looking up at her sadly and inquisitively, as, over a long period of
time, her features slowly hardened and a look of resolve entered her
eyes. Then, absently removing P-Chan from her lap, she stood. She
had made her decision.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Nabiki grabbed Akane by the wrist just as her sister reached
for the door. "Are you sure you want to do this, sis?"
The younger Tendo glanced down at the hand holding her
back, then up at her sister's face. She forced a smile to her lips. "Of
course!" she said, slightly too enthusiastically. She grimaced at the
sound of her own voice and took a deep breath. "Yes. I'm sure."
That same look of resolve she'd borne all morning returned. Nabiki
couldn't help but feel admiration for her sister. Nervousness was
tearing Akane up from within - Nabiki could tell, it was quite easy if
you knew what to look for - but she hid it well, and was obviously
determined to see this through. If only she was sure this was the
right thing for her sister to do; if only that _bastard_ Ranma had had
the guts to return last night; if only someone would stop this insanity
from occurring! Why wasn't _Kasumi_ doing anything? Did she
honestly think 'everything would turn out fine'? This was most
definitely _not_ 'fine'! A light touch on her shoulder snapped Nabiki
out of her thoughts.
"Hey, sis, you ok?" asked Akane with a slight grin. "You
look a little. . . strained."
Nabiki let out a breath and grinned in turn. "Yeah. Heh.
You're the one getting married, and you're asking if _I'm_ ok."
"Are you?"
She shrugged. "Yeah. Of course." She smoothed down her
dress. "You know me. . . nerves of steel. I'm always fine."
Akane shook her head. "That's not what I meant. I was
wondering if you were ok with. . ." she said, and nodded towards
the door to Nodoka's hospital room, "_that_. With the marriage."
Nabiki sighed. More than anything, she realized, Akane
needed her support right now. "Yeah. I guess so, sis. If it's what
you want. . ." But as Akane smiled, and turned away, and reached
for the door once more, she suddenly realized she couldn't just let
her sister walk in there,
not without making at least one last attempt at stopping her from
making this mistake. "NO!" she blurted. Akane stopped in surprise.
"I'm sorry, sis. But. . . no. I'm not. I can't help but think you're
making a mistake. I. . . I'm sorry. I guess I just don't understand.
Do you. . . do you love him? Why are you _doing_ this?"
Akane smiled at her sister. "Thank you, Nabiki."
"Huh?"
"For caring." She gave her sister a hug, which was
awkwardly returned, before pulling her towards the nearby bench.
She sat, and Nabiki, after a questioning look, joined her. "You want
to know why I'm doing this?"
Nabiki nodded.
"I. . . I can't tell you why." Akane sighed as her sister's
disbelieving look. "It's not because I don't know why, and it's not
because I don't have a good reason. . . but. . . but because I think
you'd find the words empty. Stupid. Believe me, Nabiki. I've
thought this through. I've thought about it lots. And. . . and this is
something I have to do. For Ranma. He needs me." She paused for
a moment, taking a deep breath. "And. . . and I need you to
understand. . . and to trust me."
Nabiki carefully studied her sister's face. Whatever her
reasons, Akane truly believed they were sufficient justification to go
through with the marriage. She was drawing a certain confidence
from her certainty; it was this certainty that had obviously supported
her all morning. But Nabiki wasn't sure if she could trust her sister's
judgment. How much harder would I have to push, she wondered,
to end this now?
Nabiki knew she could. The insecurities were there, the
worries and fear; for all her brave word, Akane was scared, scared
to enter that room and be married. Yet she was willing to. And
Nabiki knew that she had to respect her sister's decision. Even if
she couldn't understand _why_, she had to trust in Akane. And
looking into her eyes, looking past the fear, she could believe. . .
_almost_ believe, that maybe, just maybe, it was the right decision.
Reaching forward, she tenderly took her sister's hands in her
own. "I trust you, sis. And I won't try and stop you. I don't
understood why you're doing this. . . but I trust you."
"I think. . . I think maybe only Ranma can understand why I'm
doing this," answered Akane.
"But he's not here, Akane," Nabiki said softly. "He's in," she
nodded towards the door, "there."
"I know." And for a moment, as Akane glanced at Nodoka's
bedchamber, at Ranma's wedding chapel, the solid certainty with
which she'd borne herself all morning wavered. "And I suppose I
should be in there as well." She slow rose to her feet, turning
towards the door. Nabiki rose with her, still holding on to her
sister's hands, and she could feel them shake, ever so slightly, in her
grasp. She's terrified, thought Nabiki. But she's still going to go
through with it. Will I ever feel that certain about something?
And as she watched her sister step up to the door and,
without hesitation, open it and walk into the room, another thought
crossed her mind: Will I ever love someone as much as she does?
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Akane was lying on her bed when there was a light, tentative
knock on the door. Akane didn't respond. She barely heard it. All
she wanted right now was to be alone. Exhaustion from the day's
activity had set in; the tension and nervousness and stress had finally
drained away, leaving a general torpor and extreme weariness. Too
much had happened in the last few days: Nodoka's illness, Ranma's
anger, the marriage, her own confusion yet eventual acceptance of it,
then the sudden end. . . she could hardly believe it was over; worse,
she wasn't entirely sure that it was.
Another hesitant rapping on her door. A moment's
annoyance flashed across her mind. She didn't want to talk to
anyone. No. She wanted to talk to Ranma - except that he was still
at the hospital, with his father, spending some precious final time by
his mother's side. Which meant that she _still_ didn't know how he
felt about the whole situation. That he had been willing to go
through with the wedding was now obvious - but didn't prove a
thing. He was doing it for his mother. But what did he mean when
he said that he didn't want to wed Akane; no, more importantly, what
had he meant when he said 'not yet'? There were so many questions
to ask him, so many doubts to resolve, and yet, she had no idea how
she would respond to him when he finally came home. She hardly
knew her own feelings - anger, frustration, disappointment, worry. .
. and other emotions she didn't feel up to confronting just yet, all
swirling chaotically just beneath the surface of her fatigued mind.
"A. . . Akane?" queried a tentative voice. "Can I. . . can I
come in?"
Ranma?
Her breath caught in her throat and she slowly sat up on her
bed. Suddenly, she felt afraid. If she talked with him, those
emotions and feelings she didn't want to deal with would come to
the front. She was still too tired, too drained, too confused. She
didn't answer; she couldn't.
There was a short pause, and then: "I. . . I understand. I'm
sorry. I won't bother you anymore." Then the sound, no, more the
feeling, of him moving away.
Before she knew it, she was up and yanking the door open
and hauling Ranma in and kicking the door shut with her foot while
spinning to face him. There was a look of considerable surprise on
his face. "Akane. . ."
"Don't you dare leave!" she hissed, her grip tightening on his
shoulder. She trembled under the sudden rush of emotions she
couldn't control or understand. She didn't know if she was angry or
glad to seem him; she felt like smiling, and yet, paradoxically, she
felt on the verge of tears. For several moments she stood there,
unsure of what to say or do, until, finally, instinct won. She hit him,
hard.
The punch was almost as much of a surprise for her as it was
for him. It staggered him and he stumbled back a few feet. He sat
heavily on the bed after knocking into the frame and losing his
footing. For the briefest moment an all too familiar look of
annoyance crossed his face. "Whaddya do th. . ." he started to say,
vehemently, and the quickly caught himself. "I. . . suppose I
deserved that. . ." he finished softly.
She looked at him sitting on her bed. He looked rough. The
shirt and pants were the same that he'd worn at the hospital, still
slightly wet from the ever-present rain. His eyes were dark with
lack of sleep, his skin shades paler than normal. When was the last
time he slept, she wondered, the last time he ate a full meal? And
even though the crisis was now resolved, he still seemed jittery and
distracted.
Baka, Akane berated herself. Maybe, for her, the crisis was
over - she wasn't married, and her life could now return to what
passed for normal. But for Ranma very little had changed. His
mother was still in the hospital, she was still dying, he was still
cursed and consumed with guilt. For him, the wedding had probably
been nothing more than a secondary concern. She knew that wasn't
an entirely fair judgement, but it remained true nonetheless.
There was a rustling, snapping her from her thoughts.
Ranma shuffled over on her bed, making some room for her. "Can
we. . . would you like to talk, Akane?" he asked.
Of course I want to talk!, she thought with exasperation. But
I don't know what to say! She nodded and sat next to him. The
room remained silent but for the slowing patter of the rain and the
light sound of their breathing. She stared down in her lap, unsure of
how to begin.
"Akane, I. . ." started Ranma, just as Akane said: "Do you
know. . ."
They both stopped and looked at each other. "Ah. . . you
first," she said.
He nodded. There was moment while he seemed to
compose his thoughts (or his courage), and then he took a deep
breath. "Akane, I. . . I just wanted to thank you. For being willing
to go through with the wedding. I know you don't want to marry me
- in fact, right now, you probably don't even like me that much. But.
. . I appreciate your sacrifice. . . and I'm sorry I put you through all
of this." He looked away, staring out the window. It was starting to
get dark outside. "I'm sorry I wasn't around, that I didn't talk my
mom's request over with you, that I said those things I said to you. .
."
"Ranma," she said, interrupting him.
He looked back at her.
"Ranma. I need to know something. Do you. . . do you know
_why_ I decided to go through with the marriage?"
A slight fear entered his eye. He shook his head. "No." His
voice was a hoarse whisper.
"Tell me, Ranma," she asked. "When we were on Toma's
island, and you had to choose between a cure for you, or a curse for
me, why did you choose to destroy the spring?"
Ranma blinked at the unexpected question. "Uh. . . I, ah. . ."
"When Happosai stole your strength, and you had to choose
between protecting me from the Hiryu Shoten-Ha, or salvaging the
cautery that could restore you, why did you choose me?"
"Because, ah. . ."
"And when you thought I was cursed and turned into a duck,
permanently. . . weren't you ready to marry me? Why?" She didn't
wait for an answer to her question; Ranma didn't look like he was
about to provide a good one, anyway.
"So why was I ready to marry you? I think. . . I think for the
very same reasons you did those things for me."
That same nervous look remained in his eyes. "Do you
know _why_ I did those things?" he asked.
"Do _you_?" she answered.
Slowly, hesitantly, he nodded, once.
"Then you know."
A deep silence fell between them. When Ranma finally
reached forward with his hands, hers were already there, waiting, to
meet his. That look entered his eyes - that feeling, half pain, half
pleasure, swelled within her - their grip tightened - they leaned
forward - they met in an embrace. Nothing was said; nothing
needed to be. Time - a moment, longer - passed as they clutched to
each other. Akane felt the confusion of before - the uncertainty, the
churning of emotions - subside; all that remained was the feel of her
body against his, the comfort of his
embrace. And then she wondered: was he comforting her? Or was
she comforting him? Did it matter? She hugged him closer, tighter,
her face moving up from his chest, her cheek pressing against his.
His skin felt hot. And, she suddenly realized, he was shaking, ever
so slightly, in
her arms.
She reluctantly drew away, looking at him. He tried turning
away, but she reached out with one hand, stopping him with a light
touch to his chin. His eyes were red, face trembling as he obviously
struggled to hold back that which would not, could not be restrained.
"Please. . ." he said, a quavering to his voice. "I. . . I can't. .
."
"Shhh. . ." she said, and then, "What's wrong?"
It was a stupid thing to ask. Akane knew it. But she didn't
know what to do, what to say. He didn't seem to notice, blinking
away tears that threatened to escape. "Akane, I. . ." he whispered.
She continued to hold his hands in hers. " Ranma. . ."
"I. . . I don't know what I'm going to do, Akane. I. . . she
can't die! She just can't!" His cheeks glistened as the first tears
escaped. "I. . . why? Why did it take her death to make me come
forward? Why couldn't. . . why did she have to get sick? It, it's not
fair, Akane. For her to die, for me to lose her. I. . . I had so little
time with her; and most of that was not as her _son_, but. . . but as
Ranko! Ranko! Before I left, my mom was sad - because Ranko
hadn't found the time to visit her yet! But _Ranko_ was standing in
front of her the whole time! It's not fair!"
No, it's not, thought Akane. You don't deserve any of this,
Ranma.
"I feel like I've failed her, Akane! All she wanted from me
was one thing - no, two things. She wanted me to be a man. And
she wanted me to marry you. I failed her, both times."
Akane shook her head. "No, Ranma," she said softly. "She
wanted you to be happy, more than anything. That's why she gave
you the choice."
"But she wanted me to be married. . ."
"And maybe one day, you will be; but not like this. Not
under these conditions. Why do you think you mom asked you if you
loved me? If you wanted to marry me?" And why didn't you answer
the first question?
"But don't you see?" he answered. "It doesn't _matter_ what
I wanted. She wanted to see me married - I had a responsibility to
her, to make these last days of hers happy!"
"And what about after?" Akane allowed a harder edge to
enter her voice. "What about after she's dead, and you have to
continue living your life? What about then? When after the funeral,
and the wake, after a few weeks, or months, or whatever, when the
pain begins to die down, and life slowly begins to return to normal,
and you're back at school, and you look at me, and then at my hand,
and at yours, see a ring, and it suddenly occurs to you - you're
married. To me. For life. And not because you love me, not
because you wanted to - but because your mom wanted it to happen.
"We already fight a lot, Ranma. But can you imagine what it
would be like, under those conditions? Do you really think you - I -
we'd be happy? Which do you think is more important: a few more
days of happiness for your mother? Or a lifetime without the burden
of an unwanted marriage, for you? Which do you think is more
important to you mother? Her own happiness, or yours?"
"But. . . then. . . what can I _do_ for her, Akane?" He
rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes, wiping away the last
few tears. He hadn't cried much, thought Akane, but, considering
Ranma - it was enough.
"Nothing," answered Akane sadly. "Except be with her - let
her know you're happy - let her know that you'll be ok."
And again, there was nothing more to say for a long period
of time. He pulled away from her, drawing his legs up to his chest,
staring absently out the window. It seemed that finally the rain was
letting up, its steady patter against the window quieting. Ranma
appeared deep in
though - and it was clear that something was still bothering him.
She asked him what it was.
"I was just wondering. . ." he answered. "How things may
have turned out differently."
"Oh? Like how?"
"Like. . . what if she hadn't given me the choice. What if we
_had_ been married." He looked at her in a way that Akane couldn't
quite decipher. "Would. . . would it really have been that bad?"
With forced casualness she shrugged. "I guess we'll never
know," she said. "After all - why would I want to marry a perverted
baka like you?" There was a tentative lightness to her voice.
He raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?" he answered, smiling
ever so slightly. "More like, why would I want to marry an uncute
tomboy like you?"
"Wow! A smile!" she exclaimed. "I haven't seen one of
those on you in a while. It looks. . . good." But as she watched, his
smile waved, fell, and was gone. "Something's else is on your
mind. . ."
He nodded. "I was also wondering. . . if. . . if things could
have turned out differently, if something could have stopped her
sickness, if. . . I don't know. If."
You still think it might be your fault, don't you, Ranma?, she
thought, seeing him droop slightly. "Ranma. . . please, you have to
stop this. For your own good. It's not your fault your mom got sick;
there's nothing you could have done!"
He looked momentarily angry. "I _know_ that, Akane!. I. . .
the doctors. . . don't even know how she got sick. . . but. . . but it
doesn't really matter!" He lowered his voice. "But I still can't help
but feel that maybe if I had been there, I might have been able to
protect her. I. . . I know that maybe it's foolish, but. . ."
This time Akane placed her hands on his arm. "Ranma. You
have to believe that it's not your fault you weren't with your mom.
It's not. If you have to blame _something_, blame the curse."
He looked at her for a moment, then shook his head. "No. If
I've learnt one thing, it's that I can't keep blaming all my problems on
everything else. Someone. . . someone pointed that out to me. That
I've got to take responsibility. It may not have been my fault that I
got cursed. . . I may not have made the contract with my mother. . .
but it _was_ me who failed to approach her and tell her the truth."
But when Ranma ended with a heavy sigh, Akane wondered
if he even believed his own words. It seemed like he was trying to
convince himself, desperately, trying so hard - but Akane suddenly
knew that, until certain matters were resolved between Ranma and
his mother, that he'd never be at peace with himself.
There was a lengthy pause.
"It's not too late, you know. . ." she said softly.
Ranma glanced at her questioningly.
"To tell your mom."
"You mean. . ."
"It'll haunt you for the rest of your days if you don't, I think."
Akane felt insecurity gnaw at her as she made her suggestion. Was
she doing the right thing? Ranma needed to get his guilt off his back,
to tell his mom about the curse. Unfortunately, that damned
agreement still existed - who knew how Nodoka might react, what
she might still demand; more importantly, who knew how Ranma, in
his current condition, might react? But, as she saw his eyes narrow
in resolve, as an unseen weight seemed to lift from his shoulders
and the look of perpetual exhaustion that had plagued for the last
few days faded away, Akane knew that it was the right thing for him
to do - and for her to have done.
He quickly stood. "You're right, Akane. You're right. This
is something I have to do. . . something I should've done a long time
ago." He reached for the door, hesitating as his hand closed over
the knob. He turned back. "You know. . . the last few days have
been rough. I was almost married today. My mom's dying. I've
said and done things I regret, and I've caused so much trouble for
everyone. . . it. . . I feel like I've been through some of the toughest
fights of my life."
It looks it, thought Akane. And you've got one fight left,
Ranma. Hopefully it won't kill you. She didn't want to see him go,
she felt afraid to let him go, she wanted to ask him so many
questions - but they could wait.
"Don't worry. You bounce back quickly from a fight,
Ranma," answered Akane.
A wry grin was his response. "Yeah, maybe. That's 'cus I'm
used to them." His grin turned sad. "But this. . . this I'm not used
to."
Akane watched him for several moments and then, slowly,
she nodded. "I understand, Ranma."
Ranma returned the look. "I know. You do." He turned
away and opened the door. Akane's voice stopped him as he
stepped through..
"By the way, Ranma. . ." she said, giving a small grin of her
own. "You're no trouble. At least. . . not too much. I'll. . . I'll see
you when you get back from the hospital."
He nodded and left the room.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
The room was silent, and dark.
A single shaft of moonlight slanted across the still figure
lying on the hospital bed. The ephemeral beam wavered as a figure
appeared at the window, outside. A moment later, the moon cast its
light unbroken once more into the room, and the visitor was inside,
standing next to the bed.
"Hello, mom," whispered Ranma.
A shallow, uncertain breathing was the only response.
"I. . . I really don't know how to do this. . ." he said under his
breath, looking about the room. It looked so much different from
this afternoon - yet the same. It wasn't so much a change in
appearance - the wedding had been thrown together so quickly, only
the most basic of decorations had been set up - nor a change in
company; no, it was a change in atmosphere. For the first time since
visiting this room, Ranma felt. . . almost comfortable, as if he could
breathe. He was not here seeking forgiveness, nor to submit to
another's will; he was here to make his peace with his mother.
But as he looked down at her sleeping form, he could not
bring himself to wake her. What would her reaction be to the truth?
To learning that her son was not the man she thought he was, that her
son was the girl she thought she knew? Akane was right - his
mother wanted him to be happy. But I want you to be happy, too,
mom, he thought. Could he shatter the illusion that comforted her?
What was more important - unburdening himself of his guilt, or
maintaining his
mother's dream?
Ranma didn't know. So, instead, he gently pulled a chair up
to the bed and sat down, carefully setting the sheathed katana aside.
After a moment's thought, he softly laid it next to his mom. It felt
odd to touch the weapon; it sent an unconscious tremor of fear
through him.
Nodoka's hand lifted. It fell on the wrapped blade, resting
defensively upon it with unconscious ease. She stirred slightly. Her
breathing deepened slightly. She blinked. "Ra. . . Ranko?" said
Ranma's mother.
His breath caught in his throat. Did she already. . . no. He
could see her peering blurrily at him, only half-awake. In the dark,
she would only be able to see his silhouette. He could very well be
mistaken for his female half. Suddenly unable to speak, uncertain
what to say if he could, he simply nodded.
"I. . . I'm glad you came. . ." she said, her voice barely above
a whisper. "I was hoping to see you before I. . . before it was too
late." She raised one hand weakly. "Could you please pour me a
glass of water, dear?" she asked.
Again he nodded, and he leaned over to the small table set
next to the bed. A plastic pitcher and an empty glass were waiting.
And he knew what to do. He half-filled his mother's glass; then, he
poured a small amount - just enough - on himself.
She turned back to her mother and offered the glass, but
Nodoka gently refused. "Thank you, Ranko," she said. "But it's ok.
I'm awake now." She tried sitting up a bit in her bed, and Ranma
quickly moved to her side to help. "My, it sure is dark. . ."
"It's the middle of the night, mom." answered Ranma softly.
Nodoka raised a questioning eyebrow. "Mom?"
Ranma flushed in sudden fear and embarrassment. "I. . . I'm
sorry. I guess I shouldn't have called you that. . . Auntie Saotome."
The older Saotome smiled. "Don't be sorry, Ranko. Please.
Call me mother if you like. It feels. . . nice."
"Really?"
She nodded. When she continued, her voice was broken, her
speech slow and somewhat labored, but Ranma hung on every word.
"I've always felt close to you, Ranko. Ever since I first visited.
Maybe it was because you seemed so lonely. Every time I came to
see my son, you were there, and. . . and you always seemed so. . .
unhappy."
"Did I?" said Ranma sadly. Was I really always that sad to
see my mom? "I. . . I tried. . ."
"I know, dear." she said, laying a comforting hand on
Ranma's. "I could tell. You always acted so cheerful, so happy, so
excited when I saw you. But there was always unhappiness under it
all."
"I'm sorry. . ."
"Don't be, dear!" She feebly brushed one hand across her
son's face. "It's not your fault. . . whatever happened, whatever you
lost, it's not your fault." She hesitated. "Did you. . . did you lose a
lot?"
My manhood. "My mother." My honor.
"Oh Ranko. . ." whispered Nodoka.
"I lost my mother. . ." continued Ranma, in sorrow and in
anger. "When I was very young. I know it wasn't my fault that she
died. I know there's nothing I could have done. But. . . but there
was so much that I _could_ have done. So many things I should
have said, things I should have done with her, so much waste time.
But. . . but I never did. I. . . it never occurred to me that she could
die. That one day, I may wake up, and she might be gone. Forever.
Out of my life. And. . . and there were so many things left to say."
She suddenly felt near to tears. "So much. . ."
Her mother's eyes glistened. "Ran. . . Ranko. . ."
Ranma shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm sure you don't want
to hear some silly girl cry." She sniffed, drawing one hand across
her eyes, and blinked. She leaned back into her chair, drawing her
legs up to her chest.
Nodoka gazed at her in pity. "Ranko. . ."
"Yes?"
"What things did you leave unsaid?" she asked softly.
"Wh. . . what?"
"What did you want to tell your mother? What did you never
get to say?"
Ranma slid from the chair and knelt next to the bed, clasping
her mom's hands in hers. "Do you mean. . ."
"What did you want to tell your mom before she died?"
asked Ranma's mother.
Again, she could feel the tears rise. She blinked desperately
to clear them. "I. . . I wanted to say. . ." What did I want to say,
thought Ranma. Do I dare say what I feel? Do I dare not to? "I
wanted to tell my mom. . . how much I love her. How much I
missed her. How. . . how I wish I had spent more time with her; and
that I loved the times I did. Mom. . ." She squeezed Nodoka's hands
tighter, raising them to her forehead, leaning down against the bed.
"Oh, mom. . . I. . . why? Why did I hide so long? Why didn't I tell
you sooner? There were so many chances, so many. . . and now. . .
now. . . you're gone. . . leaving me. . . and you'll never know how
much you meant. . ." She could feel the heat in her eyes, the streaks
down her face. She tried futilely to make them go away. "I. . . I'm
crying. . . I. . . I didn't want. . . I'm sorry, mom. . ."
"Hush," breathed Nodoka, leaning forward to embrace the
weeping girl. It must've taken all her strength to move forward, but
when her arms wrapped around Ranma's shoulders, the redhead
leaned forward and hugged her mother as tightly as she dared. "It's
ok. . . it's ok. . ."
"But it's not," whispered Ranma miserably. "It's not..."
Her mother pulled away enough to look into Ranma face.
"There's nothing wrong with crying for your mother. Nothing. My
son. . . my son doesn't understand that. Every time I saw him, I saw
it in his eyes - a determination, a promise, to himself, to me, not to
cry. To not shed a tear. I wanted to tell him, to let him know it was
ok. Shedding a tear before his mother would not make him any less
a man in my eyes."
"Then. . . then why didn't you tell him?" Ranma asked.
"Because he wouldn't have understood. And even if he did. .
. I don't think he would have cried, anyway. Not because he doesn't
love me - I know he does. But because he can't."
"But. . ."
"But you'll tell him, won't you, Ranko?" asked Nodoka, her
eyes suddenly serious, though still sad. "You'll make him
understand. Won't you?"
Ranma stared back at her mother for a long time before
nodding. "I think he already does. . ."
With a sigh, Nodoka broke the embrace. Ranma gently
helped her lay back onto the bed. Her mother closed her eyes,
obviously exhausted, so Ranma contented herself to simply clasp the
hand closest to her and look down upon her as she rested.
What do I do know, she thought. I. . . I'm not sure what to
say anymore. Or if I should say anything. She could still feel hot
tears burning in her eyes, but they no longer shamed her. Why
should they? And as she sat there, she remembered the times spent
with her mom:
There were plenty of less pleasant memories - times spent
hidden, or running, evading her presence. But now, those times
faded away, as the other times surfaced, the good times - shopping
with her mom, chatting idly, or sharing an ice-cream, or, even, trying
on clothing from this or that store; time spent in the kitchen, cooking
or cleaning, as her mother told her of what had happened over the
last few days, or week, or month; time spent at her home across
town, sharing supper, Ranma talking about school, or a recent
movie, or of future hopes; and she realized that they _had_ spent
good time together. What did it matter if it had been as Ranko? In
some ways, perhaps, the bond that had formed between them was
closer and stronger than might have ever existed had they acted as
mother and son.
And, perhaps, Nodoka felt the same way, for she suddenly
broke the silence.
"Ra. . . Ranko?"
"Yes?" asked Ranma, leaning forward.
"There's. . . there's just something I wanted to say, before. . .
before it's too late."
It took a moment for Ranma to be able to speak. "Go. . . go
on."
"I. . . I just wanted you to know. . . that. . . that you've always
been like a daughter to me. Like the daughter I never had."
Ranma felt a flush pass through her body, and her voice was
thick as she spoke. "No. . ." she said hoarsely.
Her mother's eyes fluttered open, sad, disappointed.
Ranma shook her head. "I. . . I _am_ your daughter. . . Mom.
I love you."
She smiled. And so did Nodoka. "I. . . I know, Ra. . . Ran. .
. daughter. I. . . I've always known." And her eyes fluttered,
fluttered. . . and closed. Her breathing deepened.
A moment later Ranma knew that her mother was asleep once more. She
looked at the sleeping figure, almost peaceful and serene in her
stillness, and she felt the tears rise one last time.
"I have only one thing to give to you, mother," Ranma said, as
the first tears fell freely and unashamedly. "Your son may not be able to
shed tears for you. . . but maybe your daughter can."
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Nodoka died early the next day.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
The End
Never mind your last name
Wild blood in my veins
Apron strings around my neck
The mark that still remains
Left home at an early age
What I heard was wrong
I never asked forgiveness
But what is said is done...
-Mama Said, by Metallica
***
Ranma 1/2 is the property of Rumiko Takahashi.
Well.
Hope you enjoyed it. It's been awhile, but I remember having
an... interesting... time writing it. It wasn't easy, but i think it
helped a lot. My second attempt at a serious fanfiction, and the first
to come out somewhat close to what I had been hoping for when I started.
What else. Hmmm. Well, I mentioned at the beginning that,
though I had intended some major rewriting, I never got around to it -
and in fact, don't even want to. Part of that is simply pure laziness,
of course. On the other hand - well, I'm sure if I were to rewrite the
whole thing, it would come out better than it is now - I'd like to think
I'm a bit better now as a writer than I was when I started. But it's for
that very reason why I don't want to do that major of a revision. I like
to think (and it's probably delusional on my part <grin>) that I can see
a definate trend - hopefully a growth! - from One Bad Day to Apron
Strings to Choices: The Party. I mean, isn't that one of the major
reasons to spend all this time on creating fanfiction?
The other reason why I never rewrote it was also because I got
distracted by other projects - which I'm still working on. Heck, I even
have a side-story to this one in the works (you probably noticed a rather
large number of sub-left hanging; I intend to tie them all up, one day...)
Final thing: again, I have to than James Bateman, aka Zen, for
his considerable help, advice, and pre-reading skills during the period
when I wrote this.
Well, I suppose I've blabbed enough. Thanks!
-Mike Noakes
***
Homepage and Fanfiction at:
http://aix2.uottawa.ca/~s669330/
***