It's been ages; I've been holed up sick and weak and reading far too much 
fanfiction than is healthy to any normal human being.  See, this is what 
happenes when one is feverish and with too much spare time.

Hey, whatever works.  Done that myself.  :)

All comments strictly my opinion, and offered in good spirit.
 

The morgue was about an hour and a half ride from Michi's apartment,

{suggest} apartment: {or, if you're uncomfortable with colons,} apartment;

good news for the driver, bad news for Ranma's wallet.  He was mentally
calculating how much hard currency he had on him, and came to the
dismal conclusion that after paying the fare, he wouldn't even have
enough to purchase a stick of gum.  In reality, he had nothing to worry
about; Michi wouldn't have let him pay her way for something that was
obviously her responsibility.

{"In reality" is a bit too omniscient for my taste; suggest replacing it with}
It should have occurred to him that he had nothing to worry

Ranma had a lot on his mind.

Michi was pregnant, and obviously suffering the less pleasant side
effects of it at the moment.  He recognized the nausea and dizziness
from when Kasumi had had her first child; and while his eldest (sort
of) sister was lucky in that her symptoms seemed less severe, Ranma
figured that what worked for one woman would work for them all.

{Uh... sounds like famous last words.  :) }

Mentally, he made a checklist: chamomile tea, ginger ale, saltines, and
pickles and ice cream.  He glanced at his partner and dismissed his
wonderings, realizing that she would have been massively insulted if he

{suggest} that she would be massively

attempted to play a concerned father-figure.  'Besides,' he said to
himself, 'she's got a fianci.  I'm probably just being nosy; he's

{Due to the limitations of ASCII, the accent-e in "fiance" shows up as i
instead: "fianci". This happens other places in this text, too
("fiancee" and "cafe"), so I suggest global-search-and-replacing
"accent-e" with "e".}

probably taking care of her enough as it is.'  With Michi wiped from
his conscience for the moment, he turned his thoughts to a happier
subject, one who had plagued his waking moments often in the last
weeks: Kodachi.

{"happier"? "plagued"? Odd juxtaposition there, but it works, somehow.
Just as long as Kodachi doesn't find out. :) }

"So I was thinking, Ranma," Kodachi had said over the phone earlier
that day, "The Crystal Palladium, downtown?  Our family just bought out

day.  "The  {or}  day, "the

the owners - how'd you like to go and sample our menu?  It'll be fun,
you'll see!  Say you'll come."  Of *course* he'd go!  In fact, he'd
nearly been giddy as he had told her very certainly that he *would*
meet her in front of the Crystal Palladium restaurant.  A small smile
spread across his face as he thought of her sparkling purple eyes and

{er... seems to me that it takes a large smile to "spread across" a face;
a small one would "appear on", or something.}

dark, lustrous hair.  She was something else all right, smart and funny
and sweet; *she* was the girl that he had wanted all those years ago in
Nerima.  'How could I have known that she was right under my nose,' he
mused distractedly, not noticing Michi's intrigued expression.

{ Ranma's always been dumb that way.  :) }

Michi's terminal curiosity seemed inextinguishable, even in the most
dire of circumstances, in a bright tone, she suddenly asked, "Why?"

{suggest} circumstances; in

"Why what?" he replied, puzzled.  She couldn't possibly have known what
he was thinking, not unless her sense of intuition extended beyond
simple hunches in judgment.

{ Ranma's always been dumb that way, too.  :) }

"Why did you leave her?" Michi continued bravely.

Ranma stared at her in surprise.  Michi had never before pried into his
past as she did in that moment.  Even before, when they were sitting in
the car during a long, boring stakeout, the super-condensed version of
events had been all that she'd heard, and that was volunteered
information.  What was the sudden interest?

{suggest} What was causing her sudden interest?

"I found something about her I didn't like," he said slowly, realizing
for the first time that he'd never really dug too deeply into his own
reasons why.

The problems on the surface of the divorce were clear: they had been
too young; the initial match had been made by their parents; there was
no true depth of emotion underneath all the youthful flirtation and
sexual attraction.  Then again, these seemed like shallow excuses.

{ Rationalizations, even. }

He frowned at her.  "Burakumin," he finished.

{ facefault! This is almost a fanfic dead-horse by now, after the wide
range of treatments it's been given; I dare hope you can pull it off,
though. }

Michi looked surprised for a moment.  "Are you?"

"No, I'm not!" he said pointedly in reply.

Michi chuffed softly.  "Don't worry about it, Ranma.  According to the
old traditions, I'm one by choice."  He stared at her for a few moments
before understanding the truth in her statement; Michi handled the dead
quite often, and yes, her career *was* by choice, wasn't it?  In older
days, or perhaps, more traditional families, she would be completely
blacklisted.

{ OK, that's a nicely-introduced take on the matter. Makes perfect sense. }

"The point is," he finally said, "I told her that I wasn't, and she
didn't believe me."  He shrugged.  "Engaged since we were sixteen, and
she still didn't trust me."  Was that it, though?  Mistrust?  Was that
simple flaw, one that existed in every relationship to some degree,
enough to cause the downfall of what seemed like such a hopeful
marriage?

{ Good question.  Awaiting good answer.  :) }

Michi tried her very hardest not to comment on what her partner had
just said, and succeeded in limiting her shock to two succinct
exclamations.  "*Sixteen*?!  You got engaged when you were *sixteen*?!"
she cried, flabbergasted.

He stared at her blankly.  "Well," he started, realizing that he had
never before felt *bad* about the fact that he'd become affianced so
early on in life.

{To be precise, "ashamed of", I think... it's not how he feels about it
that matters, it's how he feels about what others (Michi, in this case)
think of it. }

 "Yeah...what's wrong with that?" he asked, suddenly
self-conscious around his cosmopolitan partner.  Michi seemed like a
woman of the ages, a well-educated, self-sufficient female who could

{suggest} of the age, {since context indicates that what you mean is a
modern woman rather than a classic woman. }

hold her own in any fight, verbal or otherwise.  She made a good
living, dressed well, and upon all observations, was good at enjoying

{suggest} and by all observations,

all that life had to offer.  She didn't seem like the type of woman to
be held to an arranged marriage, much less understand the concept.  He
suddenly felt very foolish compared to her.

Michi shook her head.  "'What's *wrong* with that?!'" she demanded.
"You were teenagers for God's sake!  How could do properly decide what

teenagers, for

to do with your adult lives?"

He continued to glare at her for a while longer before Michi sighed,
and in an apologetic tone, said, "My parents did, too.  I was supposed

{suggest} "My parents did that to me, too.

to get married; I went to college instead."  She smiled at him.

She snorted derisively, and crossing her arms over her chest, saying

She snorted derisively and, crossing her arms over her chest, said

{or}

She snorted derisively and crossed her arms over her chest, saying

unhappily, "Whoever heard of a woman getting her morning sickness in
the afternoon."

afternoon?"

He laughed, earlier argument forgotten.  "Don't you find it remotely
strange that you're telling me this?"  He was just her work partner
after all, someone she saw as she stepped into the office and said

partner, after all,

goodbye to on occasion.

"Not really," she whispered, her eyes drooping closed.  "You're a good
detective, Ranma; your nosey ass would have found out one way or
another."

{ O_o  Now there's an image.  :) }
 

C: [muffled] Mister Edaku, could you describe to us what happened two
days ago in your cafi?

E: [nervous] It was just a normal afternoon.  I mean, we were <busier>

{ What's the <>?  Garbled and filled in later from memory? }

She'd gotten home from the autopsy, still nauseated and weak, helped up
to her apartment through Ranma's charity.  He'd checked his watch,
frowned, and pardoned himself soon thereafter, saying that he had a
'thing' that evening.  Michi had smiled at him, waving him off, and
telling him to have fun on his date.  Her partner had blushed and
disappeared behind the closing elevator doors.  That had been the last
of the good things to happen that day.  Her parents lived in Osaka; so

Osaka, so

when they came to Tokyo to visit their eldest daughter, it was a major
production.  So major in fact, that they had left the house three hours

So major, in fact, that

late (greatly thanks to Aoi), and had to go directly to the restaurant
to avoid being tardy for the meal.  This left Michi - inexperienced,
helpless, nauseated Michi - to put on her kimono, tie her obi, and do
her hair completely on her own.

{ Aiya.  That's tough enough at the best of times. }

Albeit, in the pink kimono that *she* liked rather than significantly
smaller green one her mother had picked ("It's the being pregnant
thing," she'd consoled herself earlier, "it's not the drinking, or the
junk food.  It's the pregnancy."), and with a pale green obi that was
meant for the original kimono ("Colorblind," she'd berated herself on
the way to the restaurant, "*colorblind.*"), but still - there.

{ My eyelids cringe just thinking about it.  :) }

She had been so exhausted from her day's labors that by the time she'd
reached the doorway of the Crystal Palladium, she had been ready to
collapse into one of the fluffy, friendly chairs and sleep forever.

{ Fitting into a fluffy chair without mussing the obi isn't going to be
easy either... }

With a deep breath, she reached the table.  Forcing a smile to her
face, she bowed respectfully at everyone there, and began fabricating
the most convincing of lies.

{ *facepalm* Poor Michi... }
 

=====

To: rsaotome@police.go.jp
From: mhirugashi@police.go.jp
Subject: Re:[transcript]

Ranma -

No comment.  I didn't think Chojo would be *that* bad.

He usually doesn't talk to me very much when we work together.

When do we get together to over the receipts?

{ "To go over", I think she meant, but of course an email can have a
typo without reflecting badly on the fic author. :) }

- Michi

=====

"So, when I got to class, there they were, Mio and Asuka, tearing at
each other's *hair* and - " Kodachi's voice continued, slightly amused
as she related the day-to-day dramas that she remembered from her
classes.

{ Not Asuka the White Lily, I take it.  :) }

Kodachi, though she still lived in the Kuno mansion, was all but
completely independent from her father and brother, Ranma had learned
that evening.  She owned and operated a small gymnastics school,
catering to girls anywhere from age three to eighteen, teaching those
who only wanted to dabble and serving as coaches to professionals.

{ That makes a lot of sense.  Nice. }

 She
was happy there, and worked alongside five other instructors, all of
them teaching on average three two-hour classes each night, filled with
the laughing, cheering sounds of young children.  "I'm impressed,
Kodachi," he'd said earlier, genuine, "how do you have time for

{ suggest } earlier, sincere, "but how
{or} earlier, his respect genuine, "but how

anything else?"  She had shrugged, her eyes still sparkling.  She made
time for her gardening; her trees and flora were dearer to her than
Ranma could probably understand.  "It's a passion," she'd said softly,
almost afraid to look into his eyes as she remembered how many of her
plants had been cultivated specifically for shady medicinal purposes.

{ Does she still have her crocodile?  I like Midorigame.  :) }

To his credit, Ranma had realized her uneasiness was because of him,
and somewhat shyly, he'd reached across the table and placed one
reassuring hand atop hers.  She'd gasped in surprise, but had showed no
sign that she found his tactile encouragement unwelcome.

And so, his hand had remained there for the duration of the evening.

{ heh. Very adolescent.  Nice touch. }

her.  Deciding that thinking in such a manner was detracting him from

{I think you mean to say} was distracting him 

listening to her, he stopped himself and tried to pay attention to the
story she was telling.

" - So anyway, Yukawa-san now has a long scratch down her arm, and is
visiting *both* girls' parents.  I can't blame her," Kodachi finished,
a laughing tone in her low, sotto voice.  Cocking her head to the side,

{ Gratuitous Italian! :) "sotto voce" is a loan phrase to English, but
it's used as a descriptor, not a noun, so it doesn't fit there either.
Suggest instead } low, confidential voice.

and blushing slightly, she said:

"Your eyes are bluer than I remember."

{ You don't need a para break there, but what the heck.}
 

Ranma decided in that instant that he liked her an *awful* lot.

{ Daisuki?  Wow.  O_o }

Fighting back inelegant stuttering, he managed to mutter something
about it being the dim lighting in the restaurant, or something equally
lame.  Clearing his throat, he asked her to continue.  "I like your
stories," he said shyly.

So Kodachi, smiling brilliantly, obliged.  How could she not?

{ Looks like she feels the same way... nice scene, although I think *I*
liked Kodachi better when she was "crazy". Oh, well, I can write her
that way myself. :) }

Michi promised herself that once she'd gotten home, she'd stuff herself
silly, she'd turn up bad American punk music as loudly as possible, she
would *stomp* on her obi and burn the padding.  She promised herself
that she'd abandon her ingrained rules of good behavior and social
obligation.  All of that, if only she could go through the rest of the
dinner without doing something else wrong.

{suggest} could get through

{ I like the image of Michi jumping up and down on the crumpled obi,
though. :) }

The conversation was simple enough, just politeness, as neither family
was stupid enough to delude themselves into thinking that their
pleasant, structured chatter over whether or not their children would
make a good match had any *actual* bearing on their children's
decisions.

{ Ouch. }

 Michi had been lost when she decided to go to college;
Kazuaki had left his home behind when he'd spent seven years at TouDai,
getting a degree in law.

But in all reality, their families had very little to protest.

{ Not that that ever stops them... the issue is accomplishment relative
to expectation, not absolute achievement. }
 

After all, Michi was a woman already in her thirties, and widowed at
that; it was lucky that anyone wanted her.  Kazuaki had spent two and
half years married to an American journalist, she'd gone to Japan to

{suggest} journalist: she'd

write about the cherry blossoms, and stayed to be married.  After 24
months of frustration over Kazuaki's gentle insistence that she stay
home despite her disgust with the very idea, she'd given up and
divorced him, returning to her native Boston and never giving him a
backward glance.  In a strange way, both of them having been more of

more or

less cast off by their significant others, abandoned by those who

{"significant others"?  You can use "spouses" here, and achieve more impact.}

they'd first dared to love, Michi and Kazuaki made a well-suited pair.
Michi was always overly-concerned about any internal turmoil, worried

{suggest} overly concerned

constantly about how everyone felt, terrified that what had happened to
her first husband would happen again at the expense of her own
emotional negligence.

{This last doesn't parse for me, but without knowing what you want to
say, I can't make a suggestion...}

 Kazuaki was overly easy-going, afraid that his
set tradition would force another away from him, and that the way he
viewed the world would make someone else he cared for leave.  Theirs
was a careful, comfortable relationship, built upon casual friendship,
and maintained through an amazing amount of compassion and concern for
the other party.  In fact, in all reality, theirs should have been a
wonderful marriage, one that would last and remain strong throughout,
seeing as both of them were so set on never making the same mistakes
twice.

{ heh!  But suggest, instead of "in all reality"} by any reasonable measure

Michi controlled her temper, trying to ignore the binding misery of the
obi, and regulated her breaths, trying to ignore how she wanted to
scream at the top of her lungs.

{ Can you even DO that in an obi?  Maybe that's why they have to wear them.  :) }

 Under the table, she clenched her
fists, her nails digging into her palm.  So far that evening, much of
the conversation had revolved around the basic business ends of
marriage, and the constant reminder of her not-so-distant fate grated
on her nerves.  Otherwise, it was her sister that annoyed her.  Aoi and
Michi had a tenuous relationship on their best days; both seeing the
other as the favorite of their parents.

{ OK, that's funny. :) Suggest} days, each seeing the other

 Though neither of them had
ever vied for their parents' affection (Aoi and Michi placed very
little emphasis on what their mother and father thought, understanding
that age did not equate wisdom), as Michi had been temporarily

equate to wisdom,

blacklisted when she'd left in open defiance, and Aoi had been shackled
to her lifetime position as a shrine-girl with no small measure of
resentment as a result, their sisterly affections for one another had
all but disappeared.

And so, with careful motions, he extended one hand beneath the table
and strained to reach her fingers across the way.  First he failed,
almost losing balance and tipping forward into his plate.

{ Oh, dear.  :) }

Briefly, she'd recall some weeks later, forever seemed friendlier.

{ Nice character sketchwork there. }
 

=====

To: nerriy@tech.co.jp
From: mhirugashi@police.go.jp
Subject: Re:[Back!]

Nerri -

You have *no idea* the hells I've suffered since you've been gone.
Please come over, NOW!  I need you to talk to me and fix everything!

Just as an example of this week's events:

1. Got knocked up.
2. Had to put on kimono by myself.
3. Cannot conscionably drink.
4. Will die.

Help!

{hehehe!}

=====

Ranma's wandering eye was not the type that got men into trouble.

{ Pow. Instant thought: "ok, what the heck did she mean by THAT?" Nice
hook. }

It made him notice things about everyone, analyzing people within range
as potential opponents, sizing them up.  During his youth, this had
been on a purely physical level, gauging their size and probably skill.

{ Suggest "tactical" rather than "physical", because there's a lot more
to the kind of fighting Ranma was doing than hitting people.
Motivations, qualms, and habits also played into it. }

Now, as an officer, he exploited his powers of observation to
understand criminals, to question witnesses effectively, to study
people who fascinated him.

{ The comparison that springs to mind here is that Mulder was an
accomplished "profiler", specializing in catching criminals by
reconstructing their thinking from the evidence left behind, before he
turned to the X-files... }

When Kodachi had excused herself to the powder room, and when his eyes
had followed her across the vast dining room of the Crystal Palladium,
he'd noticed a woman in a pink kimono sitting stiffly in one of the
western-style chairs, her table crowded with what looked like family
and one middle-aged man.  He'd been intrigued by the contrast that her
clothing made to the sleek nouveau decorating in the restaurant: the
very traditional Japanese versus the very western Palladium.

{ Eep.  Michi.  This is gonna be embarrassing for someone, isn't it? }

The kimono, he realized with some surprise, was quite old, probably
antique.  He knew this only because of his own mother's collection.
He, prior to his wedding, had been dragged to the storage facility at
which the Saotome family kimonos were stored.

{ Wouldn't Nodoka keep them at home? }

 After all, his mother
was prepared to arrive in grand style for wedding number two; and she'd
already flashed around her orange and green robe, it wouldn't be
stylish to appear redundant.  His family might not have been very well
off, but they had what seemed to be a fortune in kimono, thick brocades

{ Yup.  Every time Nodoka appears in a manga story, she's in a different kimono. }

and light summer yukatas in every color and design imaginable, it was

imaginable; it {or even} imaginable.  It

as if he'd opened the door, turned on the light, and accidentally
stumbled into the inner workings of a rainbow.  He hadn't even bothered
to look at the obis, knowing that his brain was already on overload as
it was from all the colors and styles.

{ heh.  Nice description. }
 

Kimono, like handwriting and smiles, reveal more about their wearers
than one would at first imagine.  The way that the sleeves are
arranged, their length, the width of the furi all have important
meaning.  The way that the obi is tied, the collar, and even the type
of socks worn and with which shoes are all indicative of the social
status and type of person wearing it.  These were not lessons that
Ranma had taken as a boy; in fact, he'd never given much thought to the
entire subject of kimono before his mother had gone off on one of her
tangents about them before his wedding.  But all these small things,
these minute details were so ingrained from so many years of being
immersed in Japan, all those social customs and rules were not learned.  
Rather, they were imbued, like the fragrance of lavender that clung to his 
mother's clothes, each soft, silky garment having had a satchel tucked away 
in its folds.

{ I take it that Ranma did study kimono after that, then, because it
would be useful knowledge for a Japanese detective.  From Nodoka? }
 

The pink kimono was arranged so that the collar hung very low along the
back of the woman's neck, and hiding a smile, he wondered if some poor
businessman had brought a geisha into Tokyo for the day.  It was
*indecently* low for a girl of any good social standing, but the way
that the woman held herself didn't seem to indicate that she *was* a
geisha...  Rather, she looked awfully stiff and uncomfortable, as if it
was her first time in a kimono in a very long time.  The most
interesting thing, he thought, was that the kimonoed woman wore a
watch, a shiny one, with lots of fiddles and dials.  Someone who worked

{ "fiddles"?  Buttons?  Knobs? }

for a living, most probably, and had to watch her time; the woman was
someone who was unfamiliar with the gentler history of her sex.  And
still, Ranma thought, she was stunning in the robe, her profile was
gorgeous, and her lush, dark hair shined in the dim mood lighting.

{ "shined" is not incorrect, but I like "shone" better here }

He mulled over the intriguing puzzle for a few more moments, wishing
that she'd turn around so that he could see her face.

However, as dark hair and sparkling eyes once again filled his line of
sight, he forgot all about the woman in the pink kimono, and returned
to less confusing avenues of thought.

Namely, Kodachi.

{ O_o  Kodachi less confusing?  How the mighty have fallen.  :) }

=====

To: ntendo@pricewaterhouse.co.jp
From: rsaotome@police.go.jp
Subject: Re:[Date?]

Nabiki -

All right, don't freak.

I'd like to start by saying that she's COMPLETELY DIFFERENT THAN SHE
USED TO BE, and with that said, I'm asking you if I can bring Kodachi.

She's normal now, sweet and fun and everything.  Just give her a
chance, please, Nabiki.  If nothing else, she'll give you a *really*
expensive present, and I will, too, okay?

- RS

{ hehehe!  Nice Ranma->Nabiki there.  :) }

=====

Across town, near the furthest edges of the Nerima city limits, there
was a vast, sprawling complex of houses.  All in all, the mansion and
it's grounds comprised an unheard-of acre-large lot, every available

its grounds

square centimeter piled high with fragrant flowers, bowing willows, and
the obligatory forest of cherry blossoms.  People from all over Nerima

{suggest}  cherry-blossom trees.

(since in recent years, more frightening rumors had been dispelled)
often liked to walk over on cool evenings to enjoy the scenery, and if
they were lucky, they sometimes caught a glimpse of a beautiful, dark-
haired woman kneeling in front of one plot of land or another.

{Hmm... aren't there walls to prevent passersby from seeing inside? }

That evening, when residents strolled by, they were not greeted by a
friendly wave of a trowel; instead, they found a brooding old man
standing in the midst of all those lovely flowers.  They shied away as
soon as they realized that he looked conflicted, nearly angry, lost in
his multi-layered thoughts.

And besides, no one was particularly keen on seeing their old
principal, anyway - *especially* not the crazy ones.

{ No mention of the cranial palm-tree?  :) }

Kosaku Kuno had been forcibly removed from his post at Furinkan High
School some years after Ranma and Akane had graduated, the unfortunate
effect of his zeal with scissors resulting in some minor injuries for

{ Kuno-kocho's preferred weapons are actually clippers rather than scissors. }

some poor, unsuspecting student.  While the school system had been able
to turn a blind eye to most of the earlier happenings (they were
unwilling to lose such an enormous monetary asset as Principal Kuno),
injury to any student was unacceptable.  Disheartened, he'd nursed his
ego with family money and a position he created for himself at Kuno
Industries Incorporated.  Over the years, as Tatewaki (despite his best
efforts to strike out on his own as a wandering samurai, saving
virginal young maidens) had joined the company, the Kuno patriarch had
very nearly become complacent.

{ Kodachi's sane, Tatewaki's a junior exec, Kuno-kocho's not
grandiose... what fun is that? :) }

The Father/Daughter dynamics between them were complex, and nearly
inexplicable to those who did not know the entirety of their history.
>From early youth, Kodachi had always lashed out at her father, blaming

{ Just in case you were unaware, the mailer put that > in there; no way to
avoid it, it does that whenever it sees a line that begins with "From". }

him for the loss of her mother; it was an error that he admitted to
occasionally when he wasn't very deep in his dreams of Hawaii.  He had
squirreled her away in a girls' school, and sent Tatewaki to Furinkan
only as a last resort; all the private prep schools had expelled him.

{ That's one explanation for it, I suppose. I think he did it so he
could keep Tatewaki within tormenting distance all day. :) }

She'd spent much of her life under his thumb, either up close or long
distance, Kodachi was rarely left to her own devices.  The only time

{suggest} distance; Kodachi

she was ever given reprieve was in her garden, and in her practice of
gymnastics, both of which he had approved.  Then Ranma appeared.  After
what seemed like forever of chasing and scissors and heartbreak on his
daughter's part, the pigtailed boy had been married off to the Tendo
girl, as the Kunos must have known would happen since the beginning.
The same disease that had claimed her mother manifested itself in his
beautiful daughter's eyes.  The mood disorder that had sent Junko Kuno
to the crazy house threatened to lock away Kodachi as well.

{ Ah, I see-- when Kodachi was manic ALL the time, it wasn't a disorder.  :) }
 

Then...then...

Then Kodachi had done something.  Something that all the money in the
Kuno vault could not right, and something that he had never anticipated
could occur.  Something that was, however indirectly, his own fault.

{ Gosh, I wonder what.  You'll tell us at the right time, won't you?  :) }
 

The point was that his daughter was well.

And instead of marrying some nice young man, or staying home with her
flowers, she was out with *Ranma*.

{ Yeah, it sounds pretty dire when you put it like that... but Ranma's
different now too, of course. }

Passion is highly overrated anyway, right?

{ Could be. Could very well be. What wrecks a marriage, I think, is not
so much lack of passion as *expecting* passion and then not having it. }
 

I may not be madly in love with him, but we've got a long time
together, there's time to learn.

{ ...and there it sounds like she's expecting it.  Trouble looms. }

Ranma found himself smiling despite how dreary the situation looked.
There was something inexplicably endearing about Michi; there was
something wonderfully bright and sunny about spending Monday at the
office when one had spent the majority of their weekend with their

with his { there's no reason to use "with their" when the gender of the
person is known and masculine}

newest crush, one Kodachi Kuno.  After the Thursday night dinner,
they'd made a date for Friday, one which had lagged into the early
daylight hours of Saturday, one which they'd paused to get some sleep
(in their respective homes),

{ Dang.  :) }

 and continued late Sunday afternoon.  He
could not seem to get enough of her, and the way she had smiled at him,
how her eyes twinkled all seemed to fill his mind and push away more
urgent things.

{ Ah, not-quite-young love... :) }

Michi slammed the phone down onto the cradle, and Ranma jumped,
swearing that he was hearing plastic crack.  He glanced to his side

{suggest} that he had heard

warily, knowing by then that Michi was as prone to her fits of bad and
irrational temperament as any other human being.  Muttering foul
curses, his partner stalked out of the office and down the hall, the

{ Oh, please, "foul imprecations".  :) }

clicking of her heels fading slowly as she went further and further.

But as he found himself saying often in the quiet of his own mind, it

But, as

was Michi's life.  She could live it as she saw fit.

Ranma watched her disappear through the doors of the restaurant, and
sighing, he pulled out of the parking circle, heading toward his own
apartment.  All the while he ignored the nagging voice in the back of
his mind: it teased and tormented and reminded him of things that he'd
rather not remember.  Whether it was because she let herself be
fragile, or because she had opened herself up to him, he felt an
obligation to keep Michi safe, courtesy of the tattered remnants of his
martial artist's honor.  He was certain that being divorced was not
cohesive with the idea of giri.

{ Rationalization. He's going to get into trouble with that. Honor has
nothing to do with it: he's concerned about her because he cares about
her. That doesn't have to mean romantic or even platonic love, of
course, but if he doesn't understand what's going on in his own mind, he
risks being blindsided several different ways. }

He frowned darkly, recalling in quick succession the things that had
nailed the coffin shut in his ill-fated marriage:

{ Oh, dear, here we go... }

The wedding had been a disaster, and the second time around, they had
only barely been joined.  The whole affair had only come to fruition
due to a persistent priest and sedatives.

{ Sedatives for whom, I wonder?  :) }

 Their first year of marriage
had been good, they were two kids just out of high school a little

good: they {or} good; they {and} school, a little

confused about what they were supposed to do, but doing it anyway,
screwing up along the way but enjoying the ride.  The dojo had been
successful, thanks in no small part to the wrecking crew's reputations
over the last years.  For a while, they'd been happy.

But the subject of children had caused them a great deal of conflict.
He and Akane realized there was something wrong when a year and a half
of unprotected sex had yielded no offspring.  Many tests and many
tearful nights later the verdict had come down: he was sterile.

{ Aiyaaaaa. Very possible, of course, even on "normal" odds, and there's
also the possibility of side-effects from his curse. I've been thinking
along those lines myself. }

Before that night, he'd never understood the impact of simple words.
They'd always seemed so meaningless to him, transient, and he'd never
quite grasped why people found them so hurtful.  Stupid, tomboy,
uncute, they weren't *honest* representations of his emotions, just
things he said when he was angry, or when he was at a loss of other
things to yell; they didn't *mean* anything.

{ Sometimes they mean "I care enough to get mad." }

 Sterile, however, meant
many things.  It meant that Genma Saotome would storm the doctor's
office, demand test after test after test, claiming that no son of his
would be "barren," as that was a woman's place and woman's shame. 

{ Ouch.  That's Genma, all right. }

 It
meant that Tendo Soun would start not-so-subtly hinting that Akane seek
a different husband.

{ *sigh*  That's Soun, all right. }

 It would mean that for once, Nabiki would listen
to him, and he would trust her not to tell anyone, not for any price;
it meant that they became friends.

{ Plausible, given Nabiki's reaction when Nodoka first showed up. }

"Azospermia, Ranma," the doctors at Nerima General Hospital had said,
"a total absence of sperm in your semen.  We're sorry."  One could not
defy scientific absolutes, as Michi enjoyed pointing out to him, never
knowing that the brief wince was not of annoyance at her repetitious
words, but rather of painful remembrance.  He had learned a lot about
scientific truths that afternoon.

{ Shoulda gone and talked to Cologne instead of the doctors.  :) }
 

It was the first time Akane had ever seen him cry.

{ :( }

He'd locked himself in the dojo for over a week, not coming out for
food, and only leaving at night, coming back the morning after stinking
of liquor and smoked-out, his eyes red from lack of sleep.

{ Hmm... it seems to me that alcohol and tobacco abuse, or even use, are
inconsistent with Ranma's character... but I'll give you that one. }

He had never known how much he'd *wanted* a baby until it was certain
that he wouldn't be able to have one.

{ Plausible for someone as out-of-touch with himself as Ranma... }
 

By the middle of the second week, his wife grew frustrated, and broke
down a wall - literally.  She'd stormed in, grabbed him by the collar,
and hugged him tightly, telling him that she didn't care, that she
loved him anyway, that there was more to their future than simply
children.  "This is about us, Ranma, not what anyone else thinks,"
she'd declared bravely.  They were young; they were stupid; they
thought that those words, that philosophy of living off of emotion
would sustain a fragile affection.  At the time, he had believed her.
Akane had bravely said that they could adopt, or something like that.

{ IC for Akane, I think... }

For a while, it had seemed like they would make it after all.

However, Kuno and his shoddy detective work had decided to prove Ranma
ultimately unworthy of Akane's affections; ironically enough, it only
served to do the opposite.

{ I had to parse this a few times before I realized you meant "prove
Akane unworthy of Ranma's affections"... but context made it clear that
"prove Ranma worthy of Akane's affections" wasn't the "opposite" you
meant, so that's OK. }

 He smiled bitterly at himself, being called
burakumin certainly gave him insight into the reactions of all those

himself; being called "burakumin"

around him.  Nabiki had castigated Akane severely, citing how out of
date and stupid it was to even place emphasis on something so ancient

{suggest} to even consider something

and pointless, Kasumi had that if the matter could be kept quiet, it

pointless; Kasumi had {held? maintained?} that if

ought to be.  Genma had been infuriated - and set about proving Kuno
wrong.  But the damage had been dealt.

"Look, Ranma - "

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU!  I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU!"

"I didn't know for sure, Ranma!  Please, please stop," Akane had
begged, crying, pleading, for the first time in her life denied the
smiles and favors of a man.  "Please!"

{ I really don't understand what's going on here... I surmise you're
being deliberately opaque and it will be clarified later. }

His wife didn't trust him, and without trust, nothing else mattered.

Ranma's childhood had been bad.  His father was undependable, he'd had
no mother, his friends were taken away from him, and he'd spent much of
it living like a vagrant.  There might have been no honor among
thieves, but he had been a martial artist, sort of,

{ No "sort of" about it, from Ranma's POV then: if he's not a martial artist,
he's nothing.  He's more now, but still... }

 and he'd had his
own personal code.  For love, for friendship, for forever, it did not
require much: kindness, patience, and trust.  Akane had never been
particularly kind, nor patient, but she'd trusted him after they'd been
married.

{ er... not patient, I'll grant you, but Akane is often kind. But one
salient quality you leave out there, and that would be very important to
Ranma, is loyalty... and that Akane and Ranma had for each other, and
the loss of it would cause severe problems. }

College had been lonely for him.  He'd started two years later than
anyone else, and his curse had further alienated him, at first.  After
a few grudging months, he was eventually drawn into a few selective
social circles, both for his attractiveness and winsome friendliness
under almost any circumstance.

{ Yeah, his puppy-dog friendliness is one of his better qualities, I think. }
 

Photos of children, some younger, some older, all of them naked and
crudely displayed, were found papering the back rooms of illicit
bookstores and in the hands of seemingly good people all over the city
of Kyoto.  A leak in the operation was found, but the source and the
children could never be located, they were constantly being moved
around.  In between all the red tape and paperwork, somehow a young
officer had been dragged into the case, and Ranma Saotome was slightly
unstable when it came to cases dealing with children.  Of course he
tried to control his temper, but upon stumbling across an escaped child
- and upon discovering the warehouse were the pornography was being
produced - there had been an explosion.

{ Frighteningly plausible. }

Cars were dispatched, and only half of them to apprehend the criminals,

criminals;

several were there to stop a crazed officer.  One, who, without guns,

One who,

managed to level a warehouse and turn half the buildings in the block
into tiny, indiscriminate chunks of rubble.

YOUTA MELENDORI (M) - 1989; Money laundering

{ Rings no bells... is "Melendori" a Japanese name, though? }

SOTA ONO (M) - 1990; Bank fraud

{ O_o  Any relation to Tofu-sensei? }

KOSAKU KUNO - (V) 2002; Assault

{ Eep.  No doubt there. }

KANEDA TSUKISHIRO (V) - 2009; Prostitution
GENJI MOROBOSHI (V) - 2009; Prostitution

{ ... of course, I thought of Ataru's family, but there's no hint that
this has Urusei Yatsura crossover elements, so I doubt it. :) }

He caught up to her and caught her gaze.  "Look, what do you find more
important: your family, or money?"  Instantly, he realized that he'd
made a bad comparison, and that he was about to be horribly disgusted
with her next words, at least, that's what he assumed from the wickedly

words; at least,

delighted expression on her face.

All feedback is welcome! -ling

Hope this helps; I'm kinda hooked on this story. Thanks for writing and
sharing!

Vince Seifert    Fanfic Analyst   FFIRC Frog
Prime:  seifertv@csus.edu
Backup: seifertv@myrealbox.com
Techie: http://webpages.csus.edu/~seifertv/
Fanfic: http://www.csus.edu/indiv/s/seifertv/toth/
Ideas are worth their weight in gold.
 




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