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Hey Everyone:

For those of you who persist on reading this story, THANK YOU!  Your support has helped me through. =)  I must give all of you wonderful people who hit the 'reply' button a heads up, though: I will be deeply involved in projects and exams that I ought to be working on and studying for, respectively, now, instead of bumming off on the internet.  So, if you *do* send me email, most likely, I will not get around to answering it until after May 30, please, bear with me!  My apologies in advance.

For all past posts, chapters (up to 16) and spoilers, go here:

www.crosswinds.net/~echonymph/fragments.html

So, here we go - Fragments 14

^*^*^

Nerima
13 years 2 months previous

"How *did* you get out of the house for the weekend?" she asked, looking around herself in concern, for the moment terrified by the taboo possibilities of someone finding them together.

Ranma just rolled his eyes, "Yuki, I told my dad that I was going on a training trip, I didn't even finish telling him where I was going before he yelled: 'Good son!  Train hard!' and left, Akane and Ukyo looked sort of pissed off, and I saw them tailing me until I reached the train station."  He shrugged and said, "I figure since they saw that I was alone it was okay."  He looked at her in a sidelong glance, "I'm surprised your family didn't said anything."

A dark expression fluttered across her face, "Let's *not* talk about that right now."  She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the train platform, "Come on!"

The masses of people turned their heads at the sound of feet slapping against the aged floors, a few of the older patrons smiled at the sight.  A pretty, spirited, redheaded girl laughing as she tugged her companion, a tall, handsome young man towards a train.  From a distance, they seemed filial, the type of love that brothers - under all the resentment over childhood spats - hid for their little siblings.  At closer glance, a certain heat pulsed through them, passion.

She'd made him promise that he'd never love her, that he'd never betray his engagement to Akane again.  "Because," she said quietly, holding his hand, "because regardless, she loves you, I know, Ranma, she loves you."  She had looked up at him, eyes dark and filled with tears, "I couldn't take you away from her."

So she'd hugged him, crying softly into the cloth of his shirt, whispering the whole time, both mourning and reminding herself of what she was to become.  "Friends," she'd said, "friends."

But she'd recovered.  And he'd numbed the ache inside.

And now . . .

Her eyes flashed nearly silver as she turned towards him, the flushed happiness coloring her features.  In her spare hand, she clutched a small duffle, and she carried her sleeping bag like a backpack.  He looked intently towards her, one of those slightly confused, inexplicably charmed expressions on his face, fascinated by the way she ran and moved.

And who wouldn't be?  She was stunning.

Their little trip in Japan's public transport system had garnered more than a few men viscous glares.  Yuki had no conscious idea how beautiful she was, and so she did nothing to hide her loveliness, letting her eyes shimmer, her hair fly in the breeze, and her clothes did nothing to hide the perfect curvature of her body.  Of course, while Ranma was used to her receiving the catcalls and the extra-long looks, it didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

He laughed as he ran plopped down into their seats, watching Yuki settle herself directly across from him, a curious expression on her face.  "What's so funny?" she asked.

He raised an eyebrow, and taking one of her hands, still wrapped in bandages and healing salves, he murmured regretfully, "After you were covered in burns and bruises, this didn't seem like such a great idea after all."

Yuki smiled softly, and touching his face gently, she whispered, "Hey, I made the choice.  After I saw you and Ryoga fight, I realized that in an all out battle, I wasn't nearly in your league without any good ki attacks.  I got bruised and burned at my own discretion."

Ranma frowned at her.  He knew damn well that she did what she wanted when she wanted and how she wanted at her discretion.  No one was going to keep her from doing what she pleased, they might have posed a slight obstacle, or even delayed her, but in the end, she'd get what she'd been fighting for.

He didn't want to teach her the Kachu Tenshin Amiguriken.  He hadn't wanted to teach her the Mouko Takabisha, and he'd most definitely had no intention of teaching her the Hiryu Shoten Ha.

In fact, knowing her penchant for talking him into and out of things, he'd expressly avoided using those attacks in her presence.  But a few days ago, Ryoga had decided to show up again, newly filled with some unknown angst.  Though, had Yuki or Ranma known that it was Ryoga who had distributed those flyers all over the school, it wouldn't have merely been property damage.  Needless to say, in the wake of all the fantastic displays of ki ability, Yuki had gotten excited.

She'd pouted, she'd pleaded, and in the end she'd just demanded it.

"Why do you want it so badly, anyhow, Yuki?" he asked softly, watching her dig through her knapsack, a mystified tone in his voice.  "I mean, I understand that being a martial artists means challenging yourself, but why, Yuki?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, "You did it."

He sighed, "That's different, Yuki, and you know it.  I've devoted my life to the art, I'm going to grow up and *live* the art," he shrugged his shoulders, "You want to draw for a living, Yuki."

"Would 'curiosity' appease you?" she tried hesitantly.  And groaning softly as he shook his head, she whispered, "Alright, I'll tell you, but if you breathe a word of it to another soul-"

"I wouldn't ever betray a confidence, Yuki," he replied, his voice deathly serious.  And smiling softly, he grabbed her hand in his own, realizing for the thousandth time how small she was, how fragile she looked.  "Come on Yuki, tell me the truth."

"Ranma," she started slowly, "I will tell you, but you can't interrupt me at all okay, not for anything."  He nodded, and comically, he zipped his mouth shut and grinned brightly at her as she smiled in return.

"After I was raped," she started, and automatically, she slapped her hand over Ranma's already-opening lips, as if she knew that he wouldn't be able to resist.  She tried again.  "After I was raped, my parents were very angry.  Angry at the world, angry at the police, angry at me."  She tightened where her hand was clasped over Ranma's mouth, preparing herself for the worst.  "They wanted to know why the future heir to the Rising Phoenix School of Martial Arts couldn't fend for herself."  She glanced upwards furtively, watching Ranma's impassive face.  And with a sigh of relief, she moved her hands.

Not half a second passed before:

"I CAN'T *BELIEVE* YOUR PARENTS!  HOW CAN THEY BEAR TO CALL THEMSELVES HUMAN IF THEY-"

The hand was back where it needed to be - over Ranma's mouth.  Yuki sighed sadly, "Ranma, please, let me finish, alright?"  He nodded sullenly.  With her voice much lower, she said, "After the rape, I went through three months where I couldn't do anything, I couldn't practice the art, I couldn't study, and I could barely eat.  And finally," she breathed deeply, her eyes clouding with a thick, black haze, "One day, while I was sitting in the dojo, with my father trying to get me to spar with him, I saw," she paused, struggling with the words, "I saw - saw *that man's* face on my father."  She released a deep sigh, and turning away, she added:

"That's how I got so good, Ranma.  That's why I want to learn more.  That's what's gotten me through all these years."  She glanced up at him, "Hatred.  Hatred and bitterness and regret and shame."

He frowned, feeling that same, low ache in his chest as she stopped speaking and let that heavy silence fill the air.

And strangely enough, he whispered, "I think I understand."

"Good," she said, hard and final, as if she was closing the topic to further discussion.  Settling down in the seat across from him, humor sparkling in her eyes, she propped her feet up on his lap and buried her face in a book.

He stared at her for a moment, biting his lip in concern.  He was quite certain that she'd survived the aftermath of her rape; that she was a strong enough person that she'd fought her demons and won the battle.  But he sometimes doubted that her heart had completely healed.  Because on occasion, when he'd tease her with a grin or brush her hand, he'd see the cracks beneath the exterior, the fear of growing close to someone.

She glanced upwards at him and said, "It's 100 yen for every three minutes to enjoy the show."

He rolled his eyes and leaned into the seat, letting his gaze wander away from her and towards the city buildings and rush of land, screaming past the window as the train peeled away from the station.  Dozens of young girls still in their school uniforms stood on that platform, waving their hands to their sweethearts on that train, going away for the weekend to their mothers' home, or for family business.

'Family,' he wondered slowly, 'family honor.'  In a world of modern conveniences and thoughtless betrayals, a place where divorce was simple, accepted, forgiven, the social status in Japan seemed strange to him.  Sure, he'd grown up in the withering shadow of the all-important giri, but he'd never been able to explain it well.

Giri wasn't merely family honor, it was understanding and *being* that person and fitting into the place to which you were born.

But what had he been born to?  He never knew what his mother had expected of him, he knew of his childhood promise, to be the man amongst men, and failing in that, he hoped that maybe she'd have wanted something else, something that he *could* do.  He knew what his father expected, for him to be the best martial artist in the world, to marry a Tendo daughter and join the two lines of Anything Goes Martial Arts.  And someday, in the far distant future, perhaps to rid them of the terror that was Happosai, once and for all.

He glanced at where Yuki was reading some gaijin book, filled with strange words, only a fourth of which he could pick out and understand.  The cover was a pale lavender frame, and in the middle, a mockingbird flew towards a tree hollow, a sickle moon in the background.  The book was well-thumbed and tattered with age.

She glanced up at him, her blue eyes breaking his concentration for just a moment, and her voice disrupting the hum of the train.  "What's the matter, Ranma?"  He shook his head and grinned:

"You're reading it again, Yuki."

She raised her eyebrows and said, "Well, if you'd paid any attention at all in English class, perhaps you could be reading it with me."

He smirked, "What's it about?"

"Loving people for what they are instead of what society sees them as."  Her voice was clear, as though she had no idea the implications of her words, she merely smiled at him serenely and turned back to the comfort of those letters, lost in the poetry of those words.

'My family and duty, or the one thing that I've ever wanted more than to learn the art?' he murmured to himself, 'No one can make that decision.'

He hadn't meant for it to happen, it wasn't his fault.  After all, no one intends to fall in love, and if they do, it rarely happens.  'It's insanity,' he reasoned, 'lunacy.  This is stupid - who falls in love with their curse?'  He bit his lip at the thought, and berated himself for calling her that.  It was not Yuki's fault he had fallen into that pool in Jusenkyo, and it wasn't her fault that her ancestors had accidentally left their ki in those cursed waters.

How could he love her?  How could he love her when he was just sixteen years old, foreign to the entire concept of devotion?  And yet, he knew it in his heart without the slightest doubt that he loved her.

But - but there was always Akane, just in the background of his mind.  The rare occasions when she smiled at him burned into the surface of his memory, the way her eyes twinkled when she was happy.  He thought that maybe he still loved her, maybe just the slightest bit.

You didn't just fall *out* of love with someone, did you?

"Ranma?  Ranma, snap out of it, we're here."

He glanced out the windows of the train and saw that they had, indeed, returned to Nerima.

She'd been right, it had been a lovely weekend.  And for all the fears he had that she'd end up driving him to do something stupid and selfish - strip her down, make love to her, run away and marry her, etc. - he'd had a good time.

They'd gotten on the same train two days earlier, and before he knew it, he was standing on a peaceful stretch of meadow near a stream.  He had watched Yuki knee-deep in its water, soaked to the bone and laughing, trying to get him to join her in her fun.

The next two days had been blurry for him, remembering only certain moments. He remembered waking up in the middle of the night, and finding that her tent was empty.  He remembered the panic, and then the absolute happiness that had filled him when he realized she was just sitting on the bank, back turned towards him, staring out at the moon while her feet hung in the water.  He remembered her biting back tears as he wrapped up her hands, burned and aching from trying to grab chestnuts out of a campfire, she was more angry that she'd failed than crying at the pain.  He remembered trying to explain the concept of the Mouko Takabisha, only to hear her laughing about how he was the *only* person in the entire world who could turn his ego into an actual physical attack.

He remembered how she'd smiled at him when he'd changed when a sudden shower had caught them, whispering, "I like your girl-side, Ranma, it makes me feel like I'm always with you."

She'd called a cab and gotten them to her house, knowing that if she were to drop him off at the Tendo residence, someone would see them together, and there would be hell to pay.

He walked her to her front door, and waited until she was halfway into her house before he stopped her with just a touch of his hand.

"Yuki-chan," he whispered desperately, "you have to promise me something."

Her brow furrowed in concern.  "What, Ranma, what do you need me to promise?"  She could never deny him anything that she could give.  If she was able to help him, hold him, love him, for as long as she breathed on that planet, she'd do anything for him.

"I," he started weakly, staring at the ground, "I have a lot of things that I've been promised to do in life, Yuki."  He looked back up just in time to see the pain flash across her face.

Yuki wasn't stupid; she knew the reality of their relationship.  Stolen moments, she knew, were all they'd ever have.  He took a deep breath and continued, "And things being the way they are, there's the very real possibility that, that I won't be able to be with you much longer."

"Ranma-"

"Let me finish, okay?"  She nodded in response.  "Just promise me that if it does happen, if I end up marrying someone-"

'Not if I end up marrying someone *else*, if I end up marrying *someone*,' she mused to herself painfully, watching him struggle for the words.

"If I end up marrying someone, promise me that you'll forget me," he finished, his voice barely above a whisper.  He couldn't possibly say it any louder; it hurt him to even think it.  The idea of Yuki, beautiful, perfect Yuki smiling at someone else, kissing someone else, being claimed by someone else made it hard for him to breathe.

All she said was, "You can't forget what's burned into your soul."

She wasn't holding his hand, and she wasn't near enough so that he'd miss the loss of her presence if she left.  So he didn't know that she'd closed the door until he heard the dull thud of wood against wood.  He cursed softly, looking upwards to stare at her window, he should have known better.

He stared at the heavens, a hopeless, aching expression on his face on that cold night.

And silently, he begged the stars their blessing.

^*^*^

"Nothing is hopeless," Kimiko whispered, gently touching Naka's face, "I am a monument to that."

In the background, the sound of the clock grew louder in the silence of the room.  And Naka started to breathe a little deeper, comforted by the voice of someone who had been able to stay.

^*^^

Somewhere far away from the humming drone of hospital rooms and the gray drab of recovery, Kasumi still stood in her kitchen; eyes staring towards the darkness that engulfed the city, drinking in the ebony blanket that had covered all the scars of daily life.

That was when she felt the first pangs.

A low ache that made no sense.

And without warning, her world collapsed inwards as she felt a horrible black agony building in her stomach, and pain, and sudden emptiness.

She felt a hot liquid dripping down her legs, metallic and unfamiliar and wrong, horribly *wrong*.

She screamed into the hollow dim - clutching her abdomen.  Her middle that had been so full with her smiling pride, the secret she'd held carefully in her heart.

Kasumi felt herself doubling over, felt the life draining from her.

Her secret was dying.

^*^*^

One week later

^*^*^

Her initial reaction was to turn right back around and close the door, walk down to the elevator, take three deep breaths, and try again.

Instead, she just stared.

It was one thing for a father-to-be to be excited, it was quite another to be obsessive compulsive about it.

The "What to Expect When You're Expecting" books had not fazed her, the cute little baby toys had given a thrill, and the maternity-wear shopping spree he'd gone on was sweet, in a way.

But this, this was beyond normal.

When he'd said that he was going to drop by the grocery store and pick up a few things that she would need, she'd never bothered to give it a second thought.  Perhaps she should have.

The doctor had said that she needed to load up on carbohydrates, take her vitamins, get gentle aerobic exercise, eat healthy, and drink plenty of liquids.

Soichi had obviously taken this as an invitation to buy four loaves of eight-grain bread, five varieties of family-sized vitamins, a new "Mommy and Me" exercise machine, and two gallons of juice in addition to ten grocery bags that were stacked around her kitchen.

Her head hurt just thinking about the credit card bill.

She sighed dropped her purse on the free space of the counter and walked across the room to pick up the handset phone.  Dialing a familiar number, she didn't wait for the a greeting on the other end after the phones connected to ask, "So are we feeding an army?"

There was a familiar, low chuckle on the phone, "Aw, come on, Kimiko, the doctor said that I had to take care of you!"

She rolled her eyes and glanced furtively at the bags on bags of groceries stacked in her kitchen, taking up counter-space, and then she glared at the 'Mommy and Me' exercise machine that took up her floor-space.  They would exchange words regarding *that* when he got home.  "I'm eating for two, Ranma, not four hundred."

"I am well aware of that, Ki-chan, but you I haven't told you the other good news - I talked to the social worker, they're releasing Naka in two days, he's coming home with us."

There was a momentary trill of terror in her belly, one that that was quickly replaced with nervous excitement.  Even as she feared she couldn't help Naka, couldn't make him learn to live on after what had happened, she rejoiced that she had an opportunity to try.  Biting her lip, she remembered what it had been like to face uncertain days and nights, knowing deep in her soul that she needed to survive, not only for her sake but for - but for someone else's as well.  She never wanted any other child to have to live through that.  She never wanted any other child to doubt their deepest wishes, and their most sacred dreams.

"That's great, Soichi," she said softly, and looking back up, she smirked, "I'm sure Naka will just *love* his 'Mommy and Me' workout equipment."

"Cute, Kimiko," Soichi laughed.

She sighed, balancing the phone between her ear and her shoulder, "Still, that's only three people actively consuming food, how on earth are we going to get through *ten* grocery bags?"

There was a long, awkward pause on the line.

"Ten?" Soichi finally said, "Damn grocery service, I ordered twenty!"

^*^*^

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