Edited: this was edited sometime in June. Added and removed a few things. ;)


Disclaimer: I don't own Ranma ½. The only things that belong to me is the story and my own characters.

This is a Generation Fanfic, by the way. I know it's been a concept that's been done before, but I thought I'd take a shot at making my own. Hope it's different from any other ones you may have seen before.


Prologue:

Thunder boomed from outside. She could hear raindrops hitting fiercely against the closed screen door. She wasn't afraid of the rain. In fact she loved the cold and wet weather. The breathtaking feeling of droplets of contaminated liquid hitting over her bare pale arms, and face; that murky moist aroma filling her nostrils with the raindrops left on the damp streets, sidewalks, and grass.

She was sitting on the hard wooden floors. Her legs were out in front of her in an inelegant manner, and her hands brushed lightly against the wood letting her finger tips memorize the feeling of the dirty floors. Her dark brown eyes skimmed the dimly lit room; she was currently sitting in the middle of.

It was so different seeing the room how it was now: lifeless and empty. The room used to be so full of life back in the day when each day brought in every sort of trouble. The furniture that used to occupy the space in the room was taken away due to the fact that she had once again failed to pay the bills.

A dull smile played across her lips, as she could hear the faint sounds of cheerful laughter echo from upstairs, and bounce off the walls and into her ears. The memories of her childhood replayed before her eyes, as she could feel tears prickle at the corners of her eyes.

When did her life become so miserable?

She could feel bitter tears stream down her cheeks, and then splatter down on her hands. Burying her face into her hands, she let out a silent cry, as she sobbed pathetically into her hands. She quieted her breathing, feeling her breath hitching once the sounds of footsteps met her ears.

Picking her face up from her palms, she quickly wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and turned to the staircase. Stepping down the stairs at an even pace was her six year old son. The sounds of his footsteps, echoed off the walls just like his laughter had. She turned her body to watch him walk down the rest of the steps before he made it to the floor.

He looked around the empty room, and once his eyes met hers a small smile played across his lips. As he walked towards his mother, she noticed that he was holding something in one of his little fists. He held out his fist once he stood before her. She gave him a light smile, and let her eyes gaze upwards to study his youthful face.

His unruly scarlet hair was tied back into a small curling pigtail, and his bangs covered his big dark blue eyes. He wore an oversized short sleeved white shirt, which reached past his slender knees. Her smile drooped a bit when she saw he was barefoot. She had always told him not to walk barefoot in the house, but like always he ignored her.

While she was busy studying her son's appearance, her son was doing the same to her. He stared fixedly at his mother's face for several seconds, before his lips formed into a tiny frown. She made her feigned smile widen; she knew he could tell she had been crying earlier. Yet she denied that she was, because she didn't want to—couldn't admit that she was responsible for messing his life up.

He was smarter then her when she was his age. Not at all as naïve, as she was. She tilted her head to the side to stare at his fist. The grip he had on what his fingers were wrapped tight around loosened.

"What do you have in your hand?" she inquired, making her tone sound as though she was actually curious.

His eyes darted off to the side. He seemed almost hesitant to answer her. "…it's something I found upstairs."

"What'd you find?"

Slowly, he opened his hand. Her eyes looked over the object that lay on his palm. It was a small red rubber ball. Her eyes widened, as a memory flashed before her eyes.

It was the ball that her mother had given to her. The same red rubber ball that she begged her mother to buy for her since it was so cheap.

She thought she had lost it, when she was once bouncing it off against the walls upstairs. Her mother warned her about playing with it in the house, yet she would always dismiss the warnings thinking nothing bad would ever happen.

"Oh!" she winced at the pathetic tone she was using to try to fool her son into thinking that she was actually interested in the small rubber ball. "Where'd you find that thing?"

He refused to look at her. It felt like her heart was beginning to crumble inside of her. Was she really a horrible mother? He simply turned his palm over, and bounced the ball once on the ground. As he snatched the ball in the air, he turned his attention over to the rubber object.

"I found it in the attic." He finally answered unenthusiastically.

She fidgeted, and clasped her hand in front of her just so she could stare at something—anything. "What were you doing in the attic?"

"…Seichi was up there."

A look of bewilderment washed over her face, as she asked her son another question. This time her voice actually sounded genuinely interested. "…Seichi? Who's that?"

He shook his head, realizing his mistake, and quickly changed the subject. "Is it still raining?"

She kept silent, and let her eyelids shut so she could listen to the sounds from outside. Raindrops were still pounding against the screen door, another loud crack of thunder striking, and in result of that a quick flash of light in the room.

"…it's still raining."

Giving a nod in return, he continued to bounce the ball against the floor. She opened her eyes and watched him with a drooping smile, as she could feel more tears coming. He took a step back. His eyes darted off to the side, and without warning the ball landed in her lap. She picked the ball up in confusion, and then jumped in surprise when the screen doors suddenly slammed open. She changed her gaze upwards to see rain pouring in, and harsh winds shoving against the screens. Her eyes widened and it felt as though her heart had stopped beating, when she saw that her son had suddenly vanished.

She leapt onto her feet, threw the ball aside, and dashed outside. When she stood at the doorway, she felt the rain splatter across her face, blurring her vision. While wiping roughly at her eyes, she stepped outside and began to look for where her son had run off to.

A sigh of relief escaped her lips, once she caught sight of a small shadowed figure kneeling down on the rocks that surrounded the old empty koi pond. Walking over to where her son squatted, she gently placed her hand on his shoulder. He didn't turn his head to look at her.

Even though it was dark, and she could barely see a thing. She knew his hair had darkened, and his figure shrunken. Her tears mixed in with the raindrops, as she dropped down to her knees, and frantically wrapped her arms around him. It was like she was a little girl again. She wanted so desperately for someone to hold her close and comfort her. To tell her things that would cheer her up when she was in one of her many moods.

She could almost recall—feel the many times when Ranma used to hold her whenever she felt like this. Those times when she lay in her bed, or stopped in the middle of training to think about her mother; or anything else that may have caused her to feel her rage, or distress bubble up inside of her. She remembered the way she fit so perfectly against him, and the way his arms wrapped snuggly around her. Or how the smell of sweat, or how the feel of moist clothing from the endless hours of training he put himself through being pressed against her, comforted her.

"I'm…I'm so sorry." She whispered through shivering lips, as she buried her face into his small slender neck.

He was soaking wet and his body was trembling violently from the cold weather. Her nose brushed against his neck, yet she didn't even flinch when she was greeted with his cold flesh.

"Why do you always say that?"

Even though he was at a young age, she could tell his pitch was higher then his usual tone of voice. She tightened her hold on him, as she sobbed weakly against him.

Why couldn't she or Ranma ever catch a break?

Why couldn't at least her son, be spared of the horrible things that happened to the both of them, and live a normal life?

She lifted her face from his neck, her gaze turning to the once clear water of the pond next to them. She didn't know how to answer him.

He raised his hands up from his lap, only turning his face to look at her to wipe off the tears. He knew it was a pointless thing to do, yet he couldn't stop himself from trying to calm his mother down. It was something he would always do, even though he didn't want to. She lifted her head up with a trembling lower lip, and let the raindrops beat against her face. She couldn't bear to look at him.

She didn't want to see the trouble she put on her son.

She didn't want to accept that she ruined his life forever.

She didn't want to accept the fact that her son hated her.

If felt like she couldn't speak, that something invisible was wrapped firmly around her neck, and choking her or keeping her from speaking. She could feel his shuddered breathes against her, as he shivered from the cold weather. Her motherly instincts were telling her to: take him inside, scold him for going outside when it was raining, tell him that he would catch a cold for doing something stupid, and get him out of his soaked clothing.

Yet she wouldn't move it was like she couldn't bring herself to let go of him. She was scared that if she let go he'd leave her forever, and shun her away from his cursed life. More tears formed in her eyes, she embraced him once again.

She didn't want to lose him too.

He stiffened against her hold, resting his chin against her shoulder, and ignoring the fact that he was starting to have a coughing fit. Relaxing into the firm hold, he let himself be held.

He let his eyelids close shut, as he listened to his mother's almost struggled breathing.

"…I-I'm sorry."

The almost inaudible remark was silenced by the lightning's roar. Flashes of light surrounded them for a mere second before darkness took over once again. Yet even though the lightning drowned out the small sentence, he still somehow heard it.