An Incident at the Ucchan
a Ranma 1/2 fanfiction by Ukyou Kuonji (well, who else?)

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NOTE:  We, the characters of Ranma 1/2, are all the property of 
Rumiko Takahashi and whoever else she has, Nabiki-like, decided 
to sell or rent us out to.  Any attempt by us to alter our own 
destinies through such means as fanfiction is totally unauthorized 
and probably futile as well.
==========

Okonomi-yaki.  That was what she smelled as she opened her eyes.

But it wasn't just the ordinary smell that always permeated the 
Ucchan, even when no one was cooking... no, this was the scent of 
okonomi-yaki on the grill.  Downstairs.  Right now.

The door to the bedroom burst open.  "Mommie!  Mommie!  Come 
downstairs, quick!"

A smile filled her face, and her eyes nearly brimmed with tears. 
Her child, her own child.  How many times she had been in this 
very room, dreaming of that voice, of those words?  She found 
herself sitting up in bed as the little boy rushed to her arms, 
giving her a great big hug.

"What is it... "  She paused.  In her surprised joy, she had 
forgotten her son's name.  Then, a name came to her: "...Kyouma?"

If the boy had even noticed his mother's hesitation, he gave no sign 
of it.  He was too busy bouncing up and down excitedly.  "Just come 
downstairs, Mommie!  Daddie sent me to get you... he says he's got 
something real special for you!"  

Kyouma was tugging at her hand now, and it was hard for Ukyou to 
keep from laughing out loud.  "All right, all right!  I'm up."  
She threw on a robe, and prepared to be dragged downstairs by her 
eager little boy.

She paused at the threshold, though, to take a look at the bed. 
It was nearly twice the size of the one that used to sit in the 
middle of the room for all those years, and somehow, it still 
looked like it fit in perfectly, without being cramped for space. 
Off to the side, there was a chair next to a dresser, neither of 
which looked familiar to her.  The red Chinese shirt draped over 
the chair, on the other hand, was as familiar as a second skin.  
It really was *their* room, and not just hers... and she couldn't 
be happier about it.

Kyouma wasn't about to give her much time to think, however.  
Once again, he grasped her hand and made for the stairwell leading 
to the Ucchan proper.  "Come *on*, mommie!"  The two of them fairly 
tumbled downstairs to the restaurant...

...where he was waiting, behind the grill, with an apron around his 
waist, and a smile upon his face.  Konatsu sat on a stool some ways 
behind him, beaming proudly.  And lying there, steaming on the grill, 
was a gigantic heart-shaped okonomi-yaki.  The kanji 'ai' - 'love' 
- was drawn broadly upon in in sauce.  A small vase with a single 
red rose stood in front of it on the counter.

Ran-chan grinned.  "Happy anniversary... sugar."

Ukyou was dumbstruck.  "How did you... when... ?"

"Unca 'Natsu helped him out, mommie."  Ranma blushed and rolled his 
eyes at Kyouma's outburst.  He *still* didn't like admitting he 
wasn't perfectly capable of doing everything... but coming from 
his son - *their* son - how could he get mad?  Kyouma continued, 
"And I put the shrimp on top!"

"It looks very good, Kyouma.  Thank you."  She sat down in front 
of the counter.  Her eyes caressed the scene, moving from the 
okonomi-yaki, to the rose, to the child, to Konatsu, and finally, 
to her Ran-chan.  To think that there was a time when she had 
wondered if she would ever even find Ranma.  And then, how long 
had she despaired of ever winning his heart?  She gazed into his 
eyes, trying to express all the love she had for him in that one 
long glance.  "And thank YOU, sweetheart..."

The smell of the okonomi-yaki was starting to take a turn, however... 
"Oh, no!

"It's burning!!"  And Ranma turned away from her momentarily to tend 
to the damaged breakfast.  It was then that Ukyou became away of a 
tugging sensation on her throat, which soon developed into a violent 
jerk backwards.

And then everything went white.

-----

It was late.  The Ucchan should be opening soon.  Where was the 
mistress?  <Probably sleeping off the hangover from the reception,> 
Konatsu thought.  <Maybe we can delay the opening until she's ready.

<In the meantime, I think I can make her some breakfast.>  The 
kunoichi ladled out some batter onto the warm grill, and poured 
some of Ukyou-sama's favorite vegetables and spices onto the 
steaming batter.  After browning it on both sides, he slid the 
finished product onto a plate and headed up to her room.

Knock-knock.  "Mistress?"  knock-knock.  "Ukyou-sama?  I brought 
you some -"  Words escaped the kunoichi as he entered to find a 
chair toppled over and his mistress dangling from the ceiling above 
him.  There was a piece of paper pinned to her okonomi-yaki seller's 
uniform:

     Konatsu -
     I'm so sorry to do this to you,
     but I just can't go on.  All my 
     life I've been envisioning that
     someday Ran-chan and I would...

The note was a bit damp and illegible here.  But it continued 
further down the page.

     I'm giving up.  I've lost Ran-chan,
     and now I've lost the dream.
     Please don't be angry with me
     for having done this.   But it is
     something I had to do.
     Perhaps in the next world,
     things will be better for all of us.
     I'll wait for you both there.
                 Ucchan

Konatsu folded the letter and slipped it into his kimono, next 
to his heart.  A broken plate and a cold okonomi-yaki sat on the 
threshold of Ukyou's apartment as her faithful ninja trudged 
downstairs to inform the authorities.

*****

Well, it's been a while since I've written a good stinger.  
(heh)  Maybe it still has.

*sigh*  Maybe I *have* been thinking morbid thoughts lately 
after all...

Not that I remember it very well, but this was obviously inspired 
by 'Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge' or some such title like that, 
and I imagine I'll be roundly castigated for the awful thing I've 
just done to 'myself'.  But unlike Dan Root ('The Martyr'), I can't 
break from the conventional wisdom that 'I' am supposed to be the 
tragic heroine.  

Anyway, I've been thinking recently about people that have come and 
gone, and this sort of developed from that.  I don't know what else 
to say, except maybe...

Libby, please come back!

Itsu mo,
Ucchan

"Is the life that we celebrate only a dream
 A lie that we serve like a god made of stone?
 And our hearts are the hunted/Birds with no nesting place
 Weary and aching for... home"

 Randy Stonehill, "Starlings"

ukyoukwnji@aol.com
Konatsu@KawaiiMUCK