Disclaimer: I do not lay claim to any element of Ranma ½, which belongs to Takahashi Rumiko and the various companies that publish her work. All elements of said anime that appear in this fic are not mine… although I might keep some of the other stuff.
Overheard in a Bar at Approximately 1:40am, in Nerima Ward, Tokyo
Why, hello there.
You're a pretty young thing, aren't you?
What? You've been serving me all evening? Well then, let's have another bottle of this truly excellent sake. I seem to have drunk this one empty. See?
Well, yes, it is dripping, but just a couple drops don't count. And they're on the table now anyway. I haven't sunk so low that I'd lick them up. Come on, get another bottle. That's a good girl.
—No, I haven't had enough. What's your job, hmm? Get another bottle. I've only had, uh…
—Yes, I can afford it. Of course I can! I'm a physician. Well, there once was a time when I was poor and couldn't afford to drink sake like this. I wasn't always a doctor, you know. Way back in the day, when I was in high school, as a matter of fact, I studied martial arts…
Why, go ahead, dear. Now that you've brought the bottle, I don't mind at all if you sit down for the story. I guess it is long, and keeping you standing there would be terribly rude of me.
No, I insist; you have some too. It's bad luck to drink alone, you know.
—You don't? Well… it doesn't matter. I studied martial arts in high school. Not in class or anything: I was in a club, and went three times a week to a Ninjitsu dojo. I continued training after graduating, mostly for the exercise. You know; it's an old joke that doctors have a hard time keeping themselves healthy. But I stayed in fine physical form. I could probably still move silently or disarm an attacker if I wanted to—
Sorry about that; I misjudged the distance between the sake saucer and my mouth. Here, let me help you mop that up. No, really, it was my fault anyway.
But that's not all there was to it. You see, after high school, I became the apprentice of a respected doctor. That was why I first moved to Nerima. He was technically a general practitioner, and he had me attend some courses at a local university to learn the basics. But his specialties were acupuncture, acupressure, and moxibustion. Naturally, he taught me those himself, and left me his library when he retired. I never was as good as he had been—even after years of study, I still need to look things up.
My skills were challenged the most when that Saotome kid arrived in town. Ran— Ranma, his name was. Almost immediately, the poor… boy started getting hurt. It was as if the entire ward went insane in an effort to get rid of this Ranma. His father knocked him around, the Kuno family violently attacked him, a Lost Boy beat on him regularly, Amazons came all the way from China on a mission to kill him, and stayed for over a year; Tendo Akane hit him…
Could you get us another bot— oh. This one's still half full. Sorry.
Umm… the Tendo family. I actually knew the old Tendo; the grand— no, the great-grandfather of the most recent generation. It changed recently. I shouldn't forget. But I do. But he's dead. Been dead since I was young… Ehhh, such is the way of the world, right? He had a nice family, but the only one to stay was Soun. Now Soun; he was a young man while I was going to school, getting married and having those daughters. The poor man only had daughters, you know. No, dear, it's NOT bad to be a woman. You know I wouldn't say such a thing, not with the obvious benefits sitting so prettily in front of me. It was just that he wanted at least one son, to carry on the family name and school for him. And a little variety is always good in life. And… and… and, could you refill my saucer?
Thanks. Right. The youngest daughter is… pardon my counting. These damn fingers are blurry. Is Akane. Cute little thing, but always so violent with the boys, she was. Fortunately, the man she's with now is capable of taking any punishment her temper unleashes.
Less violent nowadays, anyway. She grew up. It's amazing how quickly they mature… it makes me feel too damn old myself. She's pregnant again now… their second. Whenever they visit, I always tell her how much their son looks like his father—except for the curse part.
—What? Oh, it's an inside joke. Sorry about that. The funny thing is, is that I can't remember…
Ha, ha. You have made a very funny joke. You're right: I can't remember much at all. Pour me some more sake there, if you would. Right. Here's to memory.
I can't remember whether the middle one… Nabiki. Yeah. I can't remember whether she married or not. She might have; but in any case she's at University now, studying—mathematics, I think it is. Smart girl, and healthy. I only saw her for the occasional checkup. Then there was the eldest… ahhh…
Um, you don't mind me cleaning my glasses on the tablecloth, do you? Damn things get so—they get so blurry at the worst times. Bad, bad timing, it is. Excuse me. I, I can blow my nose on the napkin, right? Good. Let's have another drink… that's the last of the bottle, is it?
—No, I don't want another bottle. Nor another battle, even if I'm not in it. I'm sick to death of patching people up just because they're too stupid to keep out of fights. I'm so damn tired of the same old pattern going nowhere, and I'm glad that it's finally over. The problem is, the fights aren't the only aimless pattern. And I'm not the only one who's tired, or glad that the pattern has unraveled.
No more bottles. No more memories. I'll just finish this story and go home. Thanks. The eldest daughter was, she was, she still is the most beautiful creature to walk the face of the Earth. And so sweet, and kind, and strong, and gentle, and loving. And so patient, too. She was so patient.
Yes, you're right. I do love her. Have for at least a decade, in fact, although there was a time when she was just a cute little girl who lived in the same neighborhood as my sensei.
The funny thing is, is, a decade is—a decade is a damn long time. Kasumi is a veritable angel, like I said, and patient enough to be… I don't know, to be a housewife. She could talk a crying child out of its tears, and into revealing just what hurt and where. She could wait all afternoon for it to answer one of her gentle questions. There's just one problem.
She stopped waiting. For me.
Yes, I suppose it is sad. But if you have enough alcohol in you, it doesn't matter any more, right? It doesn't matter that you worked all your life and… and now you're a tired old man in a bar being entertained by too-charming young women who should be doing better things with their lives. But as long as the people get their moxibustion and acupressure and all of that on the weekdays; as long as the doctor acts out the job that could best support a wife in a formerly-and-once-again quiet suburb, well—it doesn't matter. Not at all.
No, it's not sad at all. Could I have the check, please?
—
Author's Notes: was I in a dark mood when I wrote this? Nope, just tired and bored, and the idea wandered into my wandering mind. …This fic was built to improve with rereading. Come on, it's not too long. Now, if you would be so kind, constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. Thanks!