Hey again...



Apparantly, a few people out there didn't hate it too much...oh, well, I've
*got* to inflict the story on *someone*...poor ffml...



If you'd like the first part, please email me privately.



Any and all feedback is appreciated.  Flames will be used to burn printed
out copies of your own words.



^*^*^



Brief Overview:  We've skipped fourteen years into the future where Ranma
Saotome is dead.  HOwever, a man named Fujikara Soichi lives, and he lives
with a woman named Yoshida Kimiko, the split image of Ranko *and* a
mysterious woman named Yuki, who, apparently killed Ranma to begin with! 
Nabiki is suspicious, and AKane is engaged again, to Ryoga.



^*^*^



"Tendo-san, I don't think that this is a good idea," Sanii Kuzio murmured
unhappily.



"Hey, it was your idea, go with the flow, ne?  Besides, didn't you always
say you wanted a date?"



"Hai, Tendo-san, but not when we're crashing a party!"



The champagne flowed and soft laughter pervaded the uptown atmosphere of the
party, and while Nabiki was stunning in her silver evening gown, Kuzio
fidgeted, wildly uncomfortable in the setting.



Sakura Towers threw an exclusive wine and caviar reception for its tenants
once a year, and getting in without an invitation was roughly on par with
breaking into the CIA Super-Secret Weapons Facility.



Luckily, some couple on the twenty-second floor had turned down the invite;
it was also fortunate that Kuzio had been able to catch the e-mail reply
before it made its way to the inbox of the event coordinator.  It was doubly
fortunate that he was able to utilize this to get them where they were.



Mixing and mingling.



Kuzio sighed deeply as Nabiki motioned for them to head over towards yet
another smiling couple bent on socializing.



And to think, he could have been at home, sleeping.



^*^*^



"This place is lovely, Soichi," Kimiko said softly, watching as the twilight
slowly crept towards their table.  She grinned at him, "We really ought to
give Katimi a nice present, after all, she goes to so much trouble to make
these fabulous reservations for us."



Soichi nearly choked on his tortellini.  He eyed Kimiko for a moment before
a shy smile spread across his face.



"Why didn't you say something if you knew that I wasn't the one making
them?"



Kimiko shrugged, "It didn't really bother me, you have a lot on your mind,
you work hard," she grasped his hand in her own, "we have each other," he
smiled at her gently, "I'm not going to sweat the small stuff."



Soichi brought up his free hand and cupped her cheek, murmuring, "Hai,
Kimiko-chan, don't sweat the small stuff."



She blushed prettily.  It was amazing, after twelve years, he was still able
to pull this number on her.



He was silent for a moment, and although his touch was loving, and his
expression devout, she knew in her heart that his mind was a million miles
away.  Allowing herself a secret grin, she wondered what other women did
when their husbands seemed far away, luckily for her, she needed only to ask
to pull him back to her side.



"Soichi-kun, what's on your mind?"



He sighed, pulling away from her, he stared out a window, saying:



"Remember, remember before, Kimiko-chan?"



He watched as a shadow of pain danced across her lovely features, "Why," she
asked softly, "why do you ask about this?"



"Because," he replied firmly, "because Yomada Naka came in again today, and
I finally realized something about the boy."  Kimiko looked towards him, a
look of curiosity on her face.



"Go on, Soichi."



"He," Soichi paused, searching for a word, "he's torn.  His family wants him
to do one thing, he wants to do something else, and everyone in the world
expects something different from him," he looked at Kimiko for a long,
silent time before speaking again, "I just don't want to see what happened
to me happen to anyone else."



Kimiko gave him a wane smile, "Soichi-kun, with you on his side, I doubt
anything bad will happen to him."



"Arigato, Kimiko-chan, what would I do without you?"



She smirked this time; letting her fingers trace slow circles on his thick
arm, "Probably die looking for your socks and a matching tie."



^*^*^



Nabiki was frustrated.



"She's not here, Sanii-san."



"Something just occurred to me, Tendo-san."



"Nani, Kuzio?"



"You think that * she * could have been part of the couple that turned down
the invitation?"



Tendo Nabiki, for the first time in her life, was shocked, completely,
totally, surprised.



^*^*^



"Naka, what would you like to talk about today?" Soichi's soothing tones
woke the teenager from his dreamlike state.



Yomada Naka was a sixteen year-old freshman at an all-boy's Tokyo high
school.  His grades were pretty much below average, and his interest in them
steadily decreasing in a manner that was parallel to his marks.  His parents
originally thought it was because he was too interested in girls, and placed
him in a boy's school.  His grades had only gotten worse.  Soichi had taken
him as a patient not out of necessity, but out of pure, unadulterated
interest, but that had been a year and a half ago.  The interest was wearing
thin, and his hope for the child was, too.



"Nani, Dr. Fugikara, I'm sorry, I wasn't really paying attention.  Soichi
observed the youngster carefully, his dark brown hair fell in unruly bangs
over his face, and his eyes were flashing with some unspoken rebellion.



Soichi let out a smile.



It was just like looking into a mirror.



He decided to try something new.  "Naka, do you have a hobby, something you
like to do more than anything else in the world?"



Naka's eyes lit up, "Martial arts, definitely."



Soichi raised an eyebrow, an amused expression appearing on his face,
"Really, Naka, I thought it wasn't cool for kids to spend so much time on
something so traditional nowadays."



Naka blushed to the tips of his ears as he often did during their sessions.



Soichi chuckled, "Gomen, Naka, I did not mean to embarrass you.  Do you
know, I did a little martial arts when I was young?"



Naka looked instantaneously interested.  "Really, what school?"



"An- Kempo, actually."



Soichi kicked himself for the slip-up.



Naka seemed not to notice.  "That's awesome, Dr. Fugikara, do you still have
any skill?  I'd love to spar sometime!"



Soichi grinned, "I would enjoy it, too, however, I have to make a deal with
you, if you bring home an 'A' before our next session, I'll spar with you,
if you don't," he shrugged, "I can always go over Jungian psychological
theory," he grinned wickedly, "in painful detail, just like my professor did
to me in college."



Naka turned pale and got out of his chair, hurrying to the door, Soichi
interrupted, "Hey, your session's not over for another ten minutes!"



"I know," the teen called back, "I've got a test Wednesday, and I'd rather
study than hear about Jungian theory!"



Soichi smiled to himself as he started to gather his notes, "Naka, you have
no idea."



^*^*^



"Wow, Kimiko, we're actually on time to work today?"



"Shut up, Ryoko."



"And, amazingly, you don't smell like you just had sex, either!"



"Ryoko, I'm warning you."



"Gomen, gomen, your ten o'clock is waiting for you."



Kimiko grimaced as she saw what name was written on the computer screen. 
"Do I have to go in?"



Ryoko smiled sympathetically, "I'm afraid you have to, Kimiko-san, you've
already had the asian flu, tuberculosis, been in labor, arrested, and
violently mauled.  He told me he didn't care if you had been freshly
dismembered, he wants to see you."



Kimiko groaned aloud, and stepped into her office, a prayer in her heart.



"Konnichiwa, Tokoya-san, how may I help you this morning?"



^*^*^



"Tokoya-san, I apologize, but the layout you were presented with is exactly
what you asked for," Kimiko said calmly.  She hated Tokoya Maskaki, in her
opinion; he was an insane, redundant, very, very stupid waste of cells in
general.



Unfortunately, he was also the biggest client she had for her firm.



"I understand that you * think * that you've fulfilled the obligations I put
forth, Miss Yoshida, but the truth of the matter is that your ads . . . "



"Which ones?" Kimiko uttered through gritted teeth.  She feared that if she
gripped the armrests of her chair any tighter, they'd snap off and get
ground into sawdust.



"All of them."



'Breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe,' Kimiko coached herself, 'He's old,
he'll die eventually, I like his son, please, Kami-sama, let this meeting
end.'



"Of course, Tokoya-san."



He nodded and continued, "Anyways, before I was interrupted, I was saying
how all the ads you did for my company lack a certain, I don't know, zing,"
he gave her a dark look, "I'm actually thinking about changing companies."



Kimiko steeled her nerves and said in as calm a voice as she could muster,
"Tokoya-san, you've said that a thousand times before, but you do realize
that if you had any problems with the ads before, you could have told us,
and I'd have gladly reworked all of them."



She crossed her arms as she stood up and walked across the room to the
enormous window that was one side of her executive office.  "Tokoya-san, why
do you keep coming back to us if you hate us so much?"



There was a blank space of silence.



"Do you want to know the truth, Kimiko?"



She whipped back to face him in confusion.  In their six year-long business
relationship, he'd never so much as recognized the fact that she had a first
name, much less called her by it.



"Hai, Tokoya-san," she whispered softly, "I'd like to know."



His face grew suddenly aged in the light of the office.  "Kimiko-san, the
truth is, I like you, I like * you * and not your company."



Kimiko blanched visibly.



It was going to be a bad day.



^*^*^



"Moshi moshi," Ryoko chirped into the phone.



"I'd like to speak to Ms. Yoshida Kimiko, please, is she available right
now?"  The woman's voice on the other line was very businesslike, and Ryoko
got the impression that she was one of those people who hadn't tripped up
since they were four and never made the same mistake more than ^�1 times.



"I'm sorry, she's in the middle of a meeting, would you like to leave her a
message?"



"Arigato, but that won't be necessary."



^*^*^



"You know, Soichi, the neighbors are going to start thinking that we're
weird, we never go to any of the parties they throw," Kimiko murmured as she
idly stirred the pot of stew.



She watched as Soichi made a face, and said, "Come on, Soichi-kun, tell me
why you don't like going."



He sighed, and muttered, "I always feel out of place there, you know,
Kimiko?"



"No, I don't, because you won't tell me."



He groaned softly and started, "It's just that they're all talking about
wine and boats and the stock market.  I don't know anything about wine and
boats and the stock market.  I feel stupid there, like I don't fit in and
they don't want me."



Kimiko rolled her eyes, "Soichi, I don't know anything about wine and boats
and the stock market either, I don't feel out of place."



He grinned, turning off the oven as the timer trilled, he leered, "That's
because you're beautiful, and when they talk to you, it's usually to your
breasts and not your face."



"Soichi!  I'm being serious."



He took out the steaming hot loaf of bread, a pair of matching pink oven
mitts on his hands, furrowing his brow, he said in all seriousness, "So am
I, Kimiko."  He stopped for a minute, dumping the bread out onto the cutting
board before he spoke again, "You know, about that, I'm starting to get
really irritated."



Kimiko raised an eyebrow, turning the range down to a simmer, "Irritated at
what?"



"Those guys in our building, Kimiko, they spend at least forty minutes
ogling you every time we spend any time with them," he frowned, "haven't
they figured out that I may not like that?"



Kimiko shook her head and turned back to the soup, "No one * ogles * me,
Soichi."



"Yes, they do!" he insisted angrily, "And I'm sick of it!"  She was startled
by the harshness in his voice.



He had only raised his to her a few times in all the years they had been
together.  Fuigikara Soichi's personality wasn't mean; it wasn't bent on
fighting all the time.  Soichi would have much rather made friends with
someone and talked to them than argue, his life hadn't made it very easy for
him to do so.



But this newfound anger, this rage towards her, Kimiko had not seen it
coming.



"Soichi," she whispered, "what's wrong?"



He lowered his head wearily, "Kimiko, I love you," he paused, looking back
up at her just in time to see her face crease into a beautiful smile, "I
love you so much that I can't find words half the time to tell you.  You're
my best friend, the only person who ever really listened to me."  He
stopped, a sob halfway up his throat, "You gave up everything so I could
have * something *, * anything *."



Kimiko winced at this, and unconscious reaction to whenever he talked about
. . . it.



"I can't help but think," he went on, "That one day, you're going to see
through me, and find out that I'm not what you wanted, and then you'll be
angry because I've led you on," the words came out in a rush of previously
unreleased insecurity, and Kimiko walked towards him as he spoke.



"And then, soon, you're going to find one of the guys in this building that
* does * know about boats and wine and the stock market, who can make you
happy and keep you well, who

* didn't * drag you through hell . . ."



His voice trailed off, and Kimiko couldn't speak as she saw the tears rise
in his slate blue eyes.



"And I won't have you anymore," he finished, his voice barely audible.



She wrapped her arms around his waist, and with her face buried in the folds
of his old t-shirt, she murmured, "Soichi, you're everything that I've ever
wanted, everything that I've ever needed, everything that I've ever dreamed
of having."  She looked back up at him, a blissful smile on her face, "How
could you ever think that I did anything that I didn't want to?  How could
you ever think that I'd leave you for someone else?"  She cupped his face in
both hands:



"I love you, Soichi, never forget that."



He nodded, and embracing her tightly once again, he rocked them back and
forth in the kitchen, praising whatever benevolent force had blessed him
with the lovely creature he held in his arms.



^*^*^



"So what * do * VIP privileges do for one in Sakura Towers, Sanii-san?"



"You're going to be surprised, Tendo."



She grinned wickedly, "I like surprises."



"Okay, VIP gives you exclusive rights.  Such as, you're allowed to * buy *
the apartment as opposed to renting it; you have twenty-four hour
maintenance at your beck and call.  Also, cleaners come buy once a week and
do the entire apartment top to bottom for free."



Nabiki whistled, "Nice set-up, ain't it, Sanii-san."



He chuckled over the phone, "I think so, too, Tendo, what have you got in
mind?"



^*^*^



"Kuso!"



"What, what happened?"



Ryoga stared around himself hopelessly, somehow, instead of quiet,
comfortable Nerima, he found himself suddenly in the screaming rush of the
Tokyo business district.



How did that happen?



Akane looked around her, and gently easing herself from Ryoga's hold, she
hopped onto the ground, thinking to herself:



'Geez, this is insane, I don't mind him carrying me places, God knows I've
gotten used to that because of . . . but this is ridiculous, the fourth time
in a  * week * we've gotten completely lost.'



"It's okay, Ryoga," she gave him a reassuring smile, "I wanted to do some
shopping anyway."



His grin was like a million lightbulbs coming on simultaneously.  She could
only give him a wane shadow of it in return.



"Hai, Akane-chan."



"Hai," she murmured wearily, "Ryoga."



^*^*^



"Kimiko-chan, have you lost your mind?"



She smirked at him, "Well, if I did, I know you'd put it back together, but
I'm perfectly lucid."



He bit his lip, "What if someone sees us?"



She shook her head in amusement, "Fugikara Soichi, we are in DOWNTOWN TOKYO,
we left Nerima twelve years ago.  First of all, it's   * not * like they can
drag us back there and flog us for moving, and secondly, what are the
chances?"



He flashed her a grin, "I don't know, Kimiko, I've always been rather
unlucky with women."



Kimiko's peal of laughter floated down the street, around the corner, and
shocked the living daylights out of one dark haired female walking with her
unwanted fianc�e towards a store.



^*^*^



"This is illegal, Tendo-san," Sanii Kuzio muttered unhappily, and glaring
down at his clothing, "and embarrassing."



Nabiki rolled her eyes, sifting her fingers through her hair, she muttered,
"Kuzio, I've known you since you were fifteen, give it up and call me
Nabiki."  She handed him a feather-duster, and added, "Besides, this is at
least partially your fault."



Kuzio bristled, "* My * fault?  How is this my fault?"



Nabiki grinned wickedly, grasping the handles of the cleaning cart, she
said:



"Hey, you mentioned the cleaning privileges."



^*^*^



"Yo, Akane-chan, do you like this one?"



Akane sighed wearily for the thousandth time that day, it seemed that
nothing could put Ryoga off, not one iota.



He'd never seemed this brash and careless before, he'd always been the
sensitive one, the one who cared about her feelings and * wanted * to hear
what she thought.



Ryoga had always been so * nice *.



Of course, that was before she had been engaged to him.



Sure, Ryoga was still * nice *, but it had only recently occurred to her how
* disgustingly * nice he was.  Not only was he worse than Ranma about some
things (remembering birthdays, getting words out of his mouth), he was
absolutely dreadful at most everything else.



Akane sighed.



After Ranma's death at the hands of Tanakawa Yuki, the weirdness hadn't
stopped, though it did manage to slow to a trickle.



Shortly thereafter, Nabiki had become terribly disturbed and had Cologne and
Shampoo.  Ukyo left, heartbroken, followed by both Konastu and Tsubasa. 
Kodachi had been formally institutionalized, and Genma did nothing but stare
out the windows.



Soun Tendo had stopped crying.



All in all, Nerima had changed quite a bit.



Her senior year had been hellish.  Not only did the male population of
Furinkan not care that her fianc�e had just died, they took the news with
gusto and celebration.  The morning fights began again, with Kuno as the
leader.



Though she'd rather die than admit it, she'd felt incredible relief when the
arrival of Ranma had stopped the battles.



She winced, she'd never have admitted it to anyone, but she had loved him. 
Since his thought had reasserted itself in her mind just a few days ago,
she'd managed to let herself say it.



AKANE LOVED RANMA.



AKANE ALWAYS LOVED RANMA.



"Akane-chan?  WHERE ARE YOU?!"



Of course . . .



Akane was engaged to Ryoga now, and Ranma was dead.



She sighed and trudged over towards the sound of her fiancee's voice,
wishing desperately that she was looking for Ranma instead of Ryoga.



But then again, she was almost thirty; it wasn't time to be choosy.



^*^*^



"Soichi-kun, what did we agree on about those shirts?" Kimiko chided softly.



She knew this was a sore subject for him.



They had been forced to abandon everything.  Not one thing could have been
taken.  Money, clothes, and sentimental items inclusive.



She always knew that he missed his shirts.



It seemed like he used to have an endless supply of them, blue, white, red,
black, and gold-embroidered, in every color of the rainbow.  He'd always
unbuttoned the top collar-button, had his sleeves loosely rolled up, and the
sides tied haphazardly at his waist.



But she hadn't been able to let him get any of them.  Sure, she'd managed to
get a cure for one of his curses, and they had cut his hair short, been able
to change their names, but some things would give them away too easily.



One of them being his shirts.



"Please, Kimiko, like you said, it's been twelve years," he shot her a grin
that he knew melted her resolve every time, "what are the chances?"



Kimiko sighed softly, "Soichi . . . "



"Pleeeeaaaaaase?"



"Ba-ka," she huffed, "get it, fine, get it, see if I care."



He grinned a mile wide, "I love you, Kimiko," and bolted towards the
cashier.



"I know," she sighed again, "I know."



^*^*^



"Akane-chan, I'm going to the bathroom, can you wait for me?"  Akane forced
herself to smile at Ryoga.



This was getting pathetic.



She wasn't seventeen anymore, she had hoped that Ryoga would have had some
measure of maturity, either intellectually or emotionally by the time they
were both thirty.



This hope would not be realized.



As she sat outside the men's room, waiting, she heard oddly familiar voices.



"Kimiko-chan, you look beautiful, are you going to get it?" the male voice
uttered breathily.



There was a soughing sound and the rustle of cloth before a softer, higher
female lilt replied, "Baka, we're out here just to window-shop.  Besides,
how could I afford to get something like this?"  There was a pause, "It is
lovely, though."



"You should get it, Kimiko," the man replied earnestly.



"Yeah, and I should also be the Empress of Japan, but neither of those
things are happening now are they, Soichi?"



Akane wracked her memory.  Where had she heard that tone before, soft,
gentle, perhaps a little higher, but the same resonant timbre and sound
remained.



Where?



And the woman's voice.  Lyrical, round, teasing, almost, her memory
flittered angrily as she tried to retrieve the hint of remembrance.



And it was gone.  She couldn't place it.



And then she saw her.



A brilliant red, perhaps a few shades darker than it had been in its better
days, carefully cut and let loose to fall over gracefully curving shoulders.
Shoulder's that led to a slender, curved figure.



Akane bit back a gasp, reached out her hand, and with a firm tug, whipped
the woman around.



Tendo Akane stared in absolute shock.



It was Ranko.



^*^*^



'SHIT!'



Kimiko's mind whirled in confusion and terror.



'Oh, God, NO!  What if, what if, OH NO, WHAT IF SHE SAW SOICHI?'  Kimiko
studied Akane's shocked face for a minute, 'No, she couldn't have, had she,
there'd be blood, there'd be tears, no, no, we're okay, we're okay.  God,
please don't let him come back from the cash register yet.  Please.'



Kimiko pressed a cupped hand to her lips and started to back away before she
realized that Akane still her a firm grip on her arm.



'BACKPEDAL!' a voice screamed in her mind.



"Excuse me, Miss," she started, barely repressing the stuttering fear, "is
there something wrong?  If you're looking for someone, I can pretty much
assure you that I'm not them," she released a nervous chuckle.



"No!" Akane hissed, her eyes as big as dinner plates, and suddenly, the (now
long-haired) brunette had thrown herself into Kimiko's arms.



"Oh, RANMA!  I thought you were dead!  I, I was so worried!  God, I thought
you were dead for so long!" she sobbed.



Kimiko's eyes grew wide for just half a beat before a bark of laughter
escaped her lips.



Ranma?  She had to have been kidding.



Akane suddenly pulled away from her, eyes now flashing with anger, "YOU
JERK!  WHY DID YOU LET ME THINK YOU WERE DEAD ALL THIS TIME!?"



Kimiko watched in dread as Akane reared her arm back and prepared to let
loose one of her patented punches.



'Hey,' a voice in her mind consoled, 'it can't get any worse.'



"AKANE!  WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"  She whipped around to the sound of Ryoga's
outraged voice.



Akane suddenly realized how bad this looked.



Crazed woman in mall, attacking woman who didn't do anything to her . . .



This was VERY BAD.



^*^*^



Kimiko ran.



She didn't care that the entire mall stared at her as if she was a lunatic,
she ran towards the bathroom Soichi had disappeared into with a desperation
that came only with death and war.



Soichi was just stepping out towards her as she slammed into his chest.



The speed and strength of the impact would have knocked over and out anyone
else, but it hadn't fazed Soichi a bit, a result of years of training.



But nothing could prepare him for the expression on Kimiko's face.



"Oh, shit," was all he managed to say.



^*^*^



"Nabiki!  Let's get out of here!"



"Why?"



"This people are HENTAIS!"



"And how did you draw this conclusion?"



"Did * you * clean their hall closet?"



"No ^� OH MY GOD."



"Do you concede my point?"



^*^*^



"Come on, Soichi, we have enough time to get back to the apartment, and I'll
break out the stash, we can leave and-"



"No," he replied firmly.



Kimiko was shocked speechless save but one little word.  "What?" she
demanded softly.



He sighed wearily, "I'm sick of running, Kimiko, we've been hiding for so
long, so afraid of what would happen to us."  He grasped her shoulders and
pressed his forehead to hers, "Let's stop."



Her eyes grew wide.



"Soichi, this isn't the place, we can discuss it, yes, but now, not now,
Soichi, we can't-"



"Stop it, Kimiko, you're tired," he paused, running a finger along the line
of her cheek, pausing at her still open lips, "I hear you cry at night. 
You're tired."



Kimiko bit back tears, "No, Soichi, we can't, you'll have to give it all
up," she stopped, "I'll have to give you up."



"No," he assured her, "we're not going to give anything up."



"How can we not?" she whispered.



"We are masters of our fate," he stated confidently, and cupping her chin in
his hand, he brought her face up to his, "Masters do not run."



She was hopeful for a moment.



It was enough.



"No more running," she breathed.



"No," Soichi answered, "no more running."



^*^*^



Um...well?  How am I doing?



-Linda





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