It was quiet in his room.  Much too quiet.  There was not even a 
breeze, nothing to rustle the leaves in the tree outside his window.  

	He could hear his heart beating.  The sound of silk sliding against 
silk as he turned from side to side.  He almost wished that he had one of 
those mechanical clocks, so that the ticking could occupy his mind.  No, 
perhaps it was instead so that he would have something else to focus his 
frustration upon.  

	Frustration.  His lips curled back, trembling as he thought of it.  
He knew it well.  Far too well.

	He wished it would rain.

	The moon shone down through the skylight above him and it was too 
bright.

	Tsubasa turned onto his stomach and tried to bury his head beneath 
the pillows, but then it was too warm.  And his hair felt tangled up by 
the pillows besides that.

	Yes, far too warm.  A sound drifted in through the window.  Or 
maybe it was through the floor.  He moaned, trying to drown it out.  
Sighing.  Breathing.  His heart beat faster and he tasted blood in his 
mouth - when had he bitten down?  It was hard to notice anything except 
for that intrusive rhythm from below.  Hushed moaning.  Whispering.

	A short, sharp keening just then.  It made him tense everywhere in 
his body, muscles locking almost painfully as he listened.  

	Her voice, he could imagine just what it would sound like if her 
were next to her at that moment.  

	And then it was too quiet once more.  And he wept, limp and weak 
and drained.

	"I love you... my friend," he said.

---
The NFT Zu presents


A Deepening Silence


a story of the Setting Moon
by RM


notes:  Yes, yes, this is the sixth story.  Or, as I prefer to think 
about it, the last story of the second trilogy.  It's been a long while.  
Writer's block, midterms, papers.  Damned JavaScript that won't cooperate 
(don't ask).  The feeling of missing a woman who is very, very far away.  
Anway, I hope you people have enjoyed it and all that.  Read on.  
Constructive criticism is good and appreciated.  The other kinds... well, 
there is a wonderfully appropriate quote from Heinlein's "Time Enough For 
Love" that applies to reviewers, and if you know which one I'm referring 
to, then I don't need to write it, and if not, then you should read it 
because it's a good book.

---

	She had come to his room this time, and he did not have to ask.  
She placed her arms around him and everything followed.  She had felt 
lonely, in her bed, unable to sleep as she tossed and turned.  And when 
she could not stand to wait any longer, she had stood and knocked on his 
door.  He had looked surprised, and pleased to see her there.  He was 
trembling too, and it made her feel a little better that she had that 
effect on him too.

---

	"Love?"

	"Well, yes," she said as they walked along, side by side, not 
touching.  

	Behind them, Tsubasa quietly shoved his hands into his pockets.  
Today, he wore loafers, gray slacks and a simple white polo shirt.  Minus 
the extras he usually wore, he looked like a handsome, if somewhat 
delicate-looking, young man, of an age indeterminate, somewhere between 
twenty and thirty.  His hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and swayed 
with his steps, catching the light.  He ignored the way a few of the 
younger girls around him stared, his eyes intent in front of him.

	Tatewaki was silent for a long time.  

	"Hey," she nudged him carefully with her elbow.  "Don't think I'm 
easy or something.  Don't just ignore me as though I were a one-night 
stand," she said lightly.

	"Of course not.  That would be too stereotypical and crude, would 
it not?" 

	"So answer my question already."   She frowned when he draped his 
arm around her waist, but did not protest.  

	"Why should love matter?" he said.
	
	"What?"

	"Well, why does it?  Love is over-rated, and painful and stupid."  
He looked away.  "It makes people do things they would not do, it makes 
people who should be friends hurt each other.  It's some stupid idea that 
people get brainwashed into believing, by stupid romance books and comics 
and TV and the movies."

	Tsubasa said, "So what should motivate relationships between 
partners if not love?"  He clenched his fists in his pockets 
subconsciously.  

	"Mutual enjoyment," Kuno said as he leered at Ukyo.

	She almost expected that and just smacked his shoulder gently.  "So 
love doesn't matter to you at all?"

	"Not anymore.  What matters is the moment.  Happiness.  Living with 
self-respect and dignity.  Good sex."  His arm tightened around her, and 
she let herself lean heavily against his side.

	It felt so odd, the way she could feel him breathing against her, 
the rhythmic movement against her breast, the way she could almost feel 
his heart beating.  "I don't think you believe that, really.  The other 
day - you were quoting from 'Quiet Steps.'  I didn't think you'd be the 
type to read it."

	"Hey, I remember that book," Tsubasa murmured, looking everywhere 
but at the two of them.

	Tatewaki frowned, clearing his throat.  "I'm not the type to read 
it.  I didn't think you were, either.  Perhaps him," his brow flickered 
in Tsubasa's direction, "but not you, dear woman."

	"Hah."  She kissed him a little higher on his throat, and she felt 
a little triumph at the shiver that coursed through him then.  She pushed 
him away, laughed when he nearly fell into the bushes along the sidewalk.  
"I was depressed one day, a year ago.  So it's a stupid romance book.  
Mushy.  Overdone, melodramatic, with the most unbelievable plot."  She 
smiled at his peeved expression.  "And it was just what I needed to 
read."

	"It wasn't that bad, was it?" he asked irritatedly.  

	"Nah.  But I never figured you that you'd turn out to be a romance 
novelist, sugar."

	Tsubasa just sighed.  He had known for a long time.  He wished he 
was someplace else - it was almost as if he were not there.

	Kuno sighed.  "Please don't tell the others at the reunion, I'd 
never live it down.  And it really is poorly written.  It was my first 
book, after all.  When did you figure it out?"
	
	"Five minutes ago, 'Blue K.'  It's not too bad, you know.  Other 
than your using our lives around Ranma as the major plot elements, that 
is."  She took a deep breath, and then another.  "It said everything I've 
always wanted to say to Ranma.  It felt... like, I don't know, like this 
great release.  Like a great tension finally released and gave me some 
slack.  Like I didn't have to live my life around him anymore, after I 
read it.  Thank you."

	'Yes,' Tsubasa thought, 'exactly what I thought, once.'

	"Pervert," Kuno interjected.  "You were thinking of sex."

	"Who's a pervert?"  She held a clenched fist against his chin, and 
punched playfully.  "Thanks for writing it.  Really.  It helped."

	"You're welcome, I suppose.  You know that they'd kill me if they 
found out that I wrote about them without permission - turned their lives 
into so many words.  It pays the bills.  But if you start quoting from it 
at the Homecoming party, I shall have to spank you."

	"Hmm.  And would you spank very hard, Kuno-chan?"

	"Very hard.  Brutal."  

	"Oh, good," Ukyo said.

	Tsubasa coughed somewhat obtrusively.  "No spanking allowed while 
I'm in the residence.  Too loud."

	She managed to blush, when Tatewaki laughed in agreement, but it 
felt like such a fine day.

---	

	"You're kidding."

	He reddened, looking down at his feet.

	"Pervert.  I should mallet you for that."

	He flinched and nodded his head miserably.  He saw a flicker of 
movement out of the corner of his eye and tensed, waiting for that oh-so-
familiar impact, the sharp pain, the heady sensation of almost-flight 
through the air.  

	She sighed.  

	Ranma peeled his eyes open and noted that his feet were still on 
the ground.  And that she was hugging him.  "Akane?"

	"Jerk.  You really thought I was going to hit you?  You haven't 
even done anything yet."  She eased out of the embrace.  "Kasumi wouldn't 
like it."

	He shuffled his feet.  "I dunno.  I think I may deserve the hammer 
this time.  And if she knew why, maybe Kasumi would approve, even."  He 
turned away, squirming.  "And would you stop giving me that look?"

	"If I hit you," Akane said evenly, "would it make you stop feeling 
this way?"

	"Well, actually, I took this Psychology class and there's this 
thing called 'Negative Association' and 'Conditioning' - I...  Stop 
laughin' willya?" he cried, indignant.  "I'm serious!"

	Akane tried to stop, but would break into giggles with every glance 
at his face.  Eventually, she composed herself, snickering only once 
every few moments.  "I took some psychology classes too.  Ranma?"

	"Yah?"

	"You're being silly."

	He groaned as he sat down, looking into the water's edge.  His 
thoughts flashed briefly to a stolen moment, accidentally peering through 
a door, through steam and haze.  Skin, so much, slick and wet and - he 
rapped his knuckles hard against his temples.  "What do I do, Akane?  
It's starting to drive me a little nuts."
	
	"You talk to her about it, of course."

	Ranma cringed.  "She'd hate me.  She'd think I was doing it on 
purpose and stuff and, and - well it's Kasumi!  You know Kasumi!  She's 
so, so..."  He waved his hands vaguely.

	"I think the word you're looking for," she interjected, "is 
innocent.  And it's true, Kasumi is sometimes a little, well, on the 
conservative side.  But she's changed a lot, right?  She's much more 
easygoing and open-minded now - how could you not notice when you spend 
so much time with her?"

	"Well... yeah, but-"

	"Ranma, I wonder if you aren't more scared that when you ask her, 
she'll stop, think a moment, smile and say, 'yes - why did you wait so 
long?'"

	He tossed a flat rock at the pond, watched it skip across the pond 
and back onto the sandy loam around it.  "I just don't know!  Anyway, 
what does it matter?  We get along fine and we're both happy with how 
things are going.  I should just forget about it, right?"  He blotted out 
a recollected glimpse, of her in the dress she wore to her concert just 
two days before.  It was simple and elegant, long just past her ankles, 
the black material draping and hinting at shapes beneath... but sitting 
beside her in the bus, watching as she leaned against his shoulder, 
yawning as the front of her dress slid down just -so- "Aaaaargh.  I am a 
pervert, huh, Akane?"

	"I'm not going to punish you when you're doing such a great job 
already.  But, Ranma, don't you think Kasumi will wonder why you're 
starting to act stiffly around her these days?  She might resent it, 
might start to wonder the same things I always used to wonder about you."  

	He started at that, brows furrowing in agitation.  "Oh, jeez, I'm-"

	"Don't say you're sorry."  She took in a deep breath.  "That's all 
in the past, okay?  But it's true, Ranma.  Talk to Kasumi about it.  I 
don't want you hurting her, even if it's just by accident, just by 
misunderstanding.  You've made her so happy - don't change that.  Be 
honest with her, and your feelings."

	Glumly, he nodded.  "I guess you're right."

	"So enthusiastic, aren't we?" Akane teased.

	"Akane, I'm just so nervous - this may be the first time Kasumi and 
I have something that we might fight about.  I, I didn't like fighting 
with you, Akane, I don't think I could take it if-"

	"Idiot."  She casually pushed him.

	Too surprised, he just let it happen.  She then proceeded to wring 
her shirt, casting an almost baleful glare on Akane, except that her 
gratitude shone a little too much in her eyes for it to be effective.

	Akane extended her hand to her in assistance.  "That's exactly why 
you should tell her as soon as possible.  Furthermore, I -"  Her eyes 
widened when the red-head's grasp tightened on her wrist.  "You wouldn't 
dare-"

	Splash.

	"Thank you, oh wise Akane," Ranma stuck her tongue out outrageously 
far as she danced back into the house, nimbly dodging Akane's insincere 
attempts to hit her.  The laughter felt good, for the both of them.  "Oh, 
we've got to get changed for the party!  The guests should start arriving 
soon."

---

	Wordlessly, he spread his arms.  There was a questioning in his 
eyes, in the set of his brow.  It seemed to ask, "Can you forgive me?"

	"Idiot."  She stepped up against him and hugged him warmly.  And 
stepped away quickly.  "I'm glad you invited us."

	"Everyone's invited, Ukyo.  Big party, right?  But - I wasn't sure 
if you would come, I was worried, ah.  I'm glad you're here."  He said as 
he flipped his pigtail up over his shoulder.

	"As am I.  Welcome, Ukyo," Kasumi beamed at her, arms just so - and 
how could Ukyo refuse a hug from her?  Ukyo breathed easier afterwards, 
could not help herself.  It was criminal that anyone could have a smile 
so warm as that.  She thought she could remember when she used to give 
them herself and she shook her head.  And a little more of the resentment 
she would never admit to bled away, and she smiled back, tentatively, 
carefully.  

	"Kuno," Ranma inclined his head, acknowledging the other.

	From her perspective, Ukyo noted that only she could see the amused 
sparkle in Tatewaki's eye.

	"PIG-TAILED GIRL!  HOW TRAGIC IT IS THAT YOU'VE BEEN CURSED TO 
MANHOOD!  But true love shall triumph, and I, I, Kuno Tatewaki, I shall 
love thee even more!"  

	Ukyo groaned.

	And just as Ranma's fist thrust out, he found that he needed to 
shift his footing, needed to turn to the target that had no longer been 
there.  Irritation and amusement in the set of his shoulders.  "It's nice 
to see you too, Kuno.  You've gotten better."

	Tatewaki clasped the other's hand, shook it, laughing.  "Is it true 
that Nabiki still doesn't -"

	"Nope."

	"Amazing.  How do you keep it from her?"

	Ranma grinned, "I don't intend to, after tonight."

	"She's coming, is she?" Kuno smirked.  

	"Yup.  I owe her for a lot of things, Kuno - I expect you to shock 
her terribly later tonight.  With the new heights of your, ah... poetry."  

	"Sorcerer, manipulator of women everywhere!  Thank you.  I shall 
make sure to do so when I see her."

	"I told her that the last time I saw you, you were frothing at the 
mouth for the loss of your third, long beloved, hidden, love, the cold 
and calculating beauty of the esteemed Tendo Nabiki -"

	Tatewaki grinned most rakishly, matching Ranma's openly amused 
smile.  "That is perfect, oh sorcerer.  Tonight, we exact vengeance.  
Come, we must plot this most carefully -"

	"Indeed, Sir Tatewaki - to the Dojo!"

	"Aye!  Tonight - Operation Not-So-True Romance - the Ensnaring of 
Nabiki!"

	The two presently laughed, an eerily similar laugh causing shivers 
down the spine.

	Ukyo blinked.  "I missed a lot while I was away, I see," she said.

	"Oh, Tatewaki started coming by about a year ago - you should have 
been here, Ukyo!  A knock on the door, and out of nowhere, comes -" 
Kasumi intoned dramatically.  "That madman, waving a bokken, dressed in 
tattered gear and calling out for his pig-tailed girl."  She chuckled, a 
sound that surprised Ukyo with its vibrance.  How had she ever thought 
that Kasumi was plain?

	"Of course, Ranma tried to knock him into orbit," Ukyo ventured.  
She cleared her throat.  "Do you mind if I ask how they became friends?"

	"Not at all."  The taller girl nodded, "And you were right, Ranma's 
first response was to try to beat him up.  Kuno was much better than 
before, however.  Actually, he was incredible.  It took Ranma a whole 
hour to beat him."

	Ukyo whistled in awe. 

	"Anyway, to make a long story short, Tatewaki visited like this 
everyday, presenting a harder and harder challenge for Ranma every time.  
Eventually, I realized that, somewhere along the line, he had changed.  I 
interrupted one of their long matches one day, with biscuits and tea - 
and expressed a desire to fight Kuno myself."

	"Ranma didn't like that, I bet."

	Kasumi smiled.  "Of course not.  But he had been training me for 
some time by then, so - he let me.  After a lot of persuasion."

	"Persuasion?" Ukyo's jaw dropped.

	"I threatened to never cook for him again.  What were you thinking 
of?"

	"Oh, of course, eh."  Ukyo blushed.  Too much time around Kuno.  
"Sorry.  Um.  Please go on with your story."

	"I managed to convince Ranma to leave so that he wouldn't 
interrupt.  You have no idea how long that took, but I told him I knew 
that he wouldn't be able to restrain his protective impulses, and that I 
really wanted a match with Kuno.  So, grudgingly, he went off to the 
rooftop, with strong admonitions to be careful and to call if I needed 
help."

	"So what was Tatewaki doing during that whole argument?"
	
	"Well, Ranma hardly paid attention, but Kuno was grinning the whole 
time.  When we were alone, I sat down, poured him some tea, and he said, 
'What gave me away?'  We had a long talk, and eventually, well, you know 
Ranma - he was eavesdropping!  I was so mad for a while - but only a 
short while, I knew he did it because he was just worried for me.  
Anyway, he and Kuno had a long talk, beat each other up some more, got 
drunk and have been friends ever since."

	Almost to herself, Ukyo said, "So Kuno's sane, and been sane for a 
while."

	Kasumi shook her head.  "I wonder if he was ever insane at all, I - 
well, I understand what grief can do.  I know what it's like to have a 
mask.  To pretend to things - I'm sorry, this is far too serious and grim 
for a party.  Uh, how has Tsubasa been?  He's grown very handsome, hasn't 
he?"

	The other's eyes clouded.  Tsubasa had lost himself in the crowd 
all around them - there he was, talking with Daisuke and Hiroshi in the 
corner.  Whoah!  Hiroshi had put on a lot of weight - she would have 
never recognized him if not for his being beside Daisuke.  

	Snippets of the conversation drifted over to Ukyo's ears:  "Nope - 
I wasn't one of the rivals for Akane.  Keep on guessing, boys!" said 
Tsubasa.  

	"Damn!" Hiroshi said.  "And you do look familiar!  Who could you 
be?"

	Ukyo turned back to her friend's fianc�e.  "Ah.  Fine, I guess.  He 
dropped out of college - and you can imagine how much his parents liked 
that, at first.  But he's made a living for himself, he keeps an art 
supplies shop for his painter friends, and he hints that he's sold a few 
paintings of his own to big names, but he doesn't tell me who.  Why?"

	Kasumi's smile faded just a little.  "Oh, nothing.  Well...  
Actually, I was wondering why he looks so miserable, he's the only one 
here who does.  Even Ryoga looks happy."

	"Tsubasa?  Miserable?"  Ukyo looked at him again, smiling, laughing 
at another bad guess from Hiroshi, blushing when a girl or two flirted 
with him, accepting it all gracefully.  All around them, faces danced and 
wove in and out, some of them familiar, most of them not.  She realized 
that she had never really known many of the other students at Furinkan 
High School.  Just the ones centered around Ranma...  

	She sighed as she spotted Shampoo kissing a blazing red Ryoga on 
the cheek while they danced.  Now when had that happened?  Ah, Ryoga was 
watching Akane dance with that strange ESP guy, but it was true, he 
seemed happy, and he did not seem to be very shy about holding Shampoo 
close.  They laughed as they whispered in each others' ears, and danced 
on.  

	Where was Ranma?  Talking with Kuno, she heard them mention a few 
more words, Nabiki's name thrown in every now and then.  Ukyo hoped that 
whatever revenge they had planned would not be too humiliating - but she 
thought of the nights before, realized that some of what she saw in 
Kuno's eyes was a keen, oddly precise intelligence that matched well with 
his warped sense of humor.  She hoped Nabiki would be able to take 
whatever was planned for later that night.

	Damn it, she had done it again.  Wandered to Ranma, even if only in 
thoughts and gaze.  She hoped Kasumi would not notice, and turned to make 
a casual evasion about Tsubasa, only to see that Kasumi had left to check 
on something in the kitchen.  Ah, there she was again, and she was 
walking over to Ranma.  He broke off his conversation with Kuno, and 
Kasumi extended her hand...

	Ukyo snapped her vision away.  'I won't watch.  I don't need to 
watch them dance, I don't.  And she's right.  Tsubasa's miserable.'  
Those eyes that seemed to sparkle were dark inside, something morose 
eating at him inside.  Some deep dissatisfaction that she recognized as 
something she herself had felt before.

	Before she could stop herself, she stood before him.  "Sorry boys, 
I have to borrow this guy for a while.  Tsubasa, would you like to, um, 
go for a walk?"

	They both ignored the exclamations of surprise and disappointment 
from Hiroshi and Daisuke, and the girls that had been fawning at him 
since the night had begun.  

	"That's Tsubasa?"

	"It's all the good-looking ones..."

	"What a shame."

	She caught a faint look of encouragement from Kasumi, as the two of 
them left.

---

	"Sorry about that."

	"Nah.  It's okay.  I should thank you for getting me away from 
them."

	The chains creaked.

	"So this is where it all ended."

	Ukyo kicked against the ground lightly, sending herself swaying 
back and forth.  "Yup."

	"You sound relieved..."

	She kicked much harder, and the chains sang as she lifted high into 
the air, and then again as the swing arced back down, the sensation of 
falling a slight, queasy thrill in her belly.  "Maybe," she said airily.

	Her loose shirt billowed out in the wind, and he saw a flash of 
smooth, moonlit skin.  "Ukyo," Tsubasa said slowly.

	"Hush.  I'm fine.  I thought for a moment that I wouldn't be, but," 
she dug her feet down, skidding, stopping so that her seat was still 
beside his and he could see her eyes clearly, "I am fine."

	"It was not that long ago -"

	She cut him off, brow arched in curiosity, "'Basa?"
	
	"Um, yes?"  Self-consciously, he glanced at his chest, his clothes.  
"What?"

	"Why are your knuckles so white?"

	"Eh?"

	"I mean, you look so uncomfortable."  Ukyo reached for his wrist 
and was surprised at how clammy he felt.  She pulled his hand onto her 
lap, enfolded between her own hands.  Red creases marked the smooth, soft 
skin of his palm and fingers.  Absently, she wished her fingers were that 
long and graceful-looking.  "Why do you have a death-grip on the swing?"

	"Huh?  Um.  Ah, hah, hah.  Well, you see."

	She peered at him.

	In the intervening years, this place had been maintained fairly 
well.  The grounds were clean and well-lit, the chains of the swings only 
a little rusty where they hung from the heavy, horizontal steel above 
them.  There was a slide next to that, painted white.  There was a rich, 
earthy tone beneath the scent of the wildflowers beside them and the 
peace was broken only by the intermittent sound and the searching 
headlights of passing cars.  It was growing late, however, and these 
intrusions came farther and farther apart.  It had been a hot day and the 
warm, humid touch of the breeze this night was too warm to be comforting 
and was instead clinging, sweaty and over-familiar.

	"Like the touch of a former lover..." Ukyo said, half-aloud.

	"I fell when I was small!" Tsubasa said.

	"What?"

---

	"Ah, Ranma."

	He looked up into her eyes, surprised at the nervousness and faint 
amusement he could see within them.  They were dancing close, and if a 
few of the others seemed to be watching them, why should he care?  "Yes?" 
he whispered.  

	"Ryoga and Shampoo?"

	"Oh."  His head dipped down and he planted a light kiss on her 
forehead.  "They meet frequently since they both travel a lot.  Neither's 
told me what they are to each other, and when I ask, they blush.  I guess 
they haven't talked about it yet."

	Her eyes would occasionally dart around, and Ranma could feel the 
silent tension in her arms around him.  

	"Hey, you."  He leaned his forehead against hers.  

	"What?"

	"Wouldya stop that, please?  You can't make sure that everyone 
who's a guest is happy - you can't keep track of everyone and worry so, 
without being unable to enjoy the party yourself.  Relax."

	"You're right."  Kasumi sighed, finally looked back into his eyes.  
"We should talk, you know."  Her smile was back, amused and light-
hearted, but, as with her eyes, a hint of nervousness was visible in 
them.  

	Ranma cleared his throat, small warning bells starting to ring here 
and there.  "Talk?"

	"Yes, talk."

	"That durned tomboy told you, didn't she?"  He was glad that the 
lights were dim for the slow songs.

	She could feel him getting ready to let go, to step back and maybe, 
the set of his shoulders and eyes suggested, run away.  "Please, the 
music isn't over."  She reached and embraced him very firmly.  "Please, 
keep dancing with me," she said quietly.

	Her cheek slid against his, warm and smooth.  "O... Okay."

	"Don't be angry with Akane - she meant well.  And stop muttering, 
please."

	"I just - I just wanted to talk to someone about it, see -"

	Kasumi said, "You should have talked to me."

	'She's angry!' he yelled in his head, panicking.  "But, but -" he 
leaned back to look at her face.  "Hey!"

	She giggled, could not help it, he looked so very distressed and 
nervous and outraged at the same time and her heart just warmed that much 
more to him.  "Ranma, you are so easy to tease."  Out of habit, she 
traced the line of his scar slowly with her fingers, amused by the heat 
that seemed to rise from his cheeks in waves when she did so.  "I just 
wanted to say," her voice was low in his ears, and he could not help 
himself, it was exciting to him, "that I had a feeling about the whole 
thing."

	He blinked.  "You had a feeling."

	"Right."

	"Oh."

	"Uh-huh."

	"And for how long have you had this feeling?"

	"A while.  Maybe half a year, longer."  

	He wished that he could see her smile more clearly, or maybe not 
since he was nervous and red-faced enough as it was.

	"Well.  Anh.  Well, you know, the music's over and the next song's 
started -"

	"Let's dance a while longer, please.  Anyway, the next song is slow 
too."

	He almost yelled when he felt her press her lips against the pulse 
in his throat, and slide down to the notch in his breastbone, moist 
breath so very hot.  "Um, um, Kasumi..."

	"Sometimes, Ranma, it's best not to talk."

	"O-okay.  But, we'll, um.  But there's -"

	"Hush."

	And the music played on.

---

	He said, "I just remembered.  It was so long ago.  My best friend 
and I, we were playing on a swing - I was excited.  It was Sunday and the 
first time my mother let me play outside alone with my friends.  I 
trusted Satomu," he sighed.  His lips formed a fine, slightly crooked 
line, curved up on one side, down on the other.  "He pushed a little hard 
- I flew right off the seat.  The scrapes didn't hurt, really, but for 
some reason, I was so embarrassed.  I ran home.  I never sat on another 
swing."  He started realizing that he had been looking all the while at 
her.  Intently, like he used to.  "Not all this time," he murmured.

	Tsubasa flushed, turning away quickly.  "Sorry for staring - I know 
how much it used to make you uncomfortable.  I -" he tried to pull his 
hand away from her, trying not to think about her touch.  It would be so 
easy, he reminded himself, to make all the same mistakes again, to drive 
her away.  "I promised I'd behave on this trip... sorry."

	She squeezed gently.  "That doesn't mean you can't look at me at 
all, 'Basa...  Please, we're friends now."  She felt him drawing up 
inside himself, and his fingers twitched in hers.  "So whatever happened 
to Satomu?"

	His hand felt so lifeless.  Ukyo shook her head.  "Scoot over," she 
said.

	"What?"

	"Scoot over.  Make room.  I wanna sit with you."

	"Wh-what?  You, um.  It's too small!"  But he moved awkwardly, 
making as much room as he could so that she would not be on his lap.  The 
seat rocked slightly, and leaning against his side, she rested her arm 
around his waist.

	"Jeez 'Basa!  You're tense as a rock.  Loosen up - it's just a 
swing."

	Her scent, so close, was of summer heat and tropical humidity - and 
flowers, not the smoky smell of cooking oil and onions and dough and the 
salty sweet, dark sauce he once wished he could lick off of her fingers, 
when she cooked.  "Kuno..." he said slowly, "and you."

	She stiffened for a moment, pausing.  Slowly, she relaxed again, 
uncoiling to rest against him as she exhaled.  "Um.  Yes, about him?"

	"Anou - the night before and -" 'Why did it have to be so 
unseasonably hot this summer?' Tsubasa asked himself.  "Well.  It's 
rather... sudden, Ukyo."

	She looked down at their linked hands.  Ukyo cleared her throat.  
"You must think terribly of me."  She bit her lip, shaking for a moment.  
"Was it so bad of us, do you think?"

	He swallowed, looking at the moths gathering around the 
streetlamps.

	"He moved," Tsubasa whispered.

	"What did you say?"  She was clinging to his hand, he noticed.  Was 
she as frightened as he had been?

	Louder, he said, "Satomu.  Moved.  I didn't see him again for a 
long, long time.  Well, I actually met him last summer.  He graduated 
from Tokyo University - his mother was crying at his wedding.  He, um, 
didn't remember me, of course."

	Ukyo sniffled a little into his sleeve.  He smelled clean, felt 
soft and huggable - guiltily, she tried to refrain from comparing him to 
another.

	"She was crying?" she asked.

	"I was the... maid-of-honor," he cleared his throat when she 
giggled.  "They looked so happy.  She's a nice girl - from Osaka.  They 
make me feel old.  And a little resentful.  Why couldn't I be happy like 
them, I asked myself.  Why couldn't I be more... normal?  I just want to 
be happy.  It was a lovely wedding, and I got drunk afterwards."

	He twisted a little when Ukyo turned and found himself leaning into 
her, resting his chin on her hair.  Her arms were an added heat around 
him, and he tightened his grip on the chains again.

	"Ukyo?" he said cautiously.  He felt one point, two points of 
moisture growing on the thin cloth of his shirt.

	"Go on, 'Basa," she said in a tiny voice.

	"I just want to be happy," his voice was thick, deep.  It was a 
comfortable rumbling in his chest, and Ukyo wondered how he faked a 
woman's voice when he did.  When he spoke like this, words and tones 
rich, masculine, she remembered wondering if he had ever wanted to be a 
singer.

	"Anyway, the girl's name is Mari.  You'd like her, Ukyo.  She's a 
very nice girl.  Uninhibited, compassionate and so," he struggled for a 
moment, "honest with how she feels."

	"It sounds like you got to know her pretty well."

	"It was before I got the art shop job," he chuckled.  "Well, I 
worked with her for a while.  We were both waitresses at this restaurant 
- Ukyo, you should have seen our uniforms!"

	She smiled into his shirt.  "Tight and short?"

	"And pink!" he added.  "But I got used to it.  And I didn't get, 
uh, felt up... too much."

	Ukyo laughed softly.  "Did Mari ever find out about you?"
	
	"No.  Sometimes, I wish she had," he said more to himself than to 
her.

	"You liked her!"  Ukyo pulled back to look up at him, bemused.  
"Oh, poor 'Basa!  Not another one..."

	He shrugged, a sardonic curve to his lips.  "She was a friend.  A 
good friend, but sometimes I wish..."

	"You wish what?"

	After a time, she leaned against him once more in a gentle sort of 
hug.  "Okay.  You don't have to say it.  Come on, let's get back to the 
party."

	Tsubasa nodded slowly, watching as a moth died, falling limply to 
the ground, bathed to the last in electric light.

	"Yeah."

--- older

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