Gray light shines in through the thin pane of the window. Outside, it is softly snowing… the thick, wet flakes drifting down and intermingling upon the ground like so many sakura petals.
There is a silent tension in the room, where the shadows play across everything. A small lamp, by the bedside, gives forth it's own light to intermingle with the gray shine cascading through the window.
The light which intermingles causing the room to look similar to a faded color photograph, bleeding off the rich tones over time.
A face, peaceful in slumber, black hair framing its serene youthful complexion. The body, which the face is attached to, is relaxed. As if it were but a rag doll, or a puppet whose puppeteer had left it behind.
His body, Ranma's body, is wrapped in blankets of wool and cotton, Akane's bed soft beneath his slack form.
Three other figures sit, straight-backed, beside the slumbering figure. All female. One is dressed in the black male uniform of Furinkan High School, her brown hair bound back by a white sash of silk, tied up into a ribbon.
Another, with tension in her posture, her hands softly cradling one of Ranma's. Her eyes are tired, red. There are no more tears to be cried, the supply exhausted for the time being. The images of earlier that day flashing in her mind, everything in a deep red haze as she attacked the girl named Ami.
She tells herself she has done the right thing. Tells herself that she was completely justified in assaulting the loud-mouthed harpy that was doing her damnedest to destroy any sense of hope that Ranma might have left.
Yet, she cannot shake the fact that she has attacked someone who could not conceivably defend themselves, and for only voicing their harsh, cruel opinions.
She holds onto that, at least… the girl was cruel, and deserved it.
The third figure in the room is someone of naturally calm demeanor, with an aura of sugar and spice. The worried expression she is wearing something that has been too common as of late. Just a short month ago, she would not have wore such an expression, but one of a more pleasant nature.
Mirroring her sister, she cups one of Ranma's unresponsive hands in hers. Her eyes fixated on the pale, sickly looking person on the bed. Much like her smile, Ranma's health seems to have vanished since the leaving of the boy… the boy who changed everything.
The elder sister's lips part. The words pouring forth as gray and un-definable as the pale light cascading into the room from the window, "You say that he simply collapsed, Akane-Chan?" Her delicate, soft hands gently dip the cool cloth in and out of the bowl full of crisp, cold water three times. Squeezing the excess from the cloth, she carefully dabs the forehead of the boy upon the bed.
Only a nod is emitted from the girl with the short-cropped black hair. At one point, she would have been infuriated that Ranma was on her bed, for any reason. It seems to her that those moments are so far away, swallowed up by the enigmatic tumult that has thrown the chaotic world of Ranma Saotome into chaos quite unfamiliar to them all.
"It was that Ami girl, I think, Kasumi-Chan," A shining spatula sits in her hand, she considers it, her reflection clear against its carefully polished surface. She weighs in her mind all the faults of her past, forced to live as a man for so long, who had she become? Is she Ukyou, the boy she had been raised as? Or is she the girl whose delicate heart had been forever captured by the boy sitting immobile on the bed?
A full body sigh. Kasumi's form seeming to shrug with weariness, so much had happened recently. Her house seemed to be falling apart around her. "Please, Kuonji-San… tell me what happened," Her eyes fixate on the pale flesh of Ranma's hand, surrounded by the blue and white of Akane's comforter.
"Ranma isn't the same, he's so tired. He's just so tired- and- and- it hurt him, what the girl said," She turns, her eyes taking in the dim light from the window. Gently, hand drifting upwards, she touches her cheeks. An uncommon wetness is discovered. Am I… Crying? It had become a habit of late, she realizes. When had she become so weak?
Grey light, shadows. The room looking too similar to a faded photograph to her eyes. The colors half-alive, everything in some sort of pseudo-state of existence, as if everything was held motionless, like the young man on the bed. The young PERSON on the bed… I cannot think of him as a man, when he doesn't know what he is.
Her head turned back towards the eldest girl in the room. Her sorrow only reflected in the elder girl's eyes. Unbearable, the emotions drifting through the soft brown orbs of Kasumi Tendou's eyes. Ukyou turns away, looking down upon herself and again finding that chilling sensation creeping slowly up her spine.
Everything has changed. Her existence, her love, the people who had until now been reliable to a predictable level… everything seemed as if it were falling apart. Twice again she parts her lips, attempting to will words from between them, but stayed by the simple fact that she does not know what to explain. Her body is limp, weary as she leans against the wall beside the window. She does not recall having walked there… perhaps she drifted.
"We were trying to comfort Ranma. He seems so lonely since… THEN Oneechan," Her eyes fixating on Ucchan. Here, Ranma's best friend and closest confidante. She seems compelled, as if she cannot look away from her. What has happened to them all? So much suffering seems to have exploded in their faces. Was this what Hiroshi had intended when he began his quest to help Ranma?
No. That she is sure of. Tearing her eyes away from Ukyou, she turns them back to her sister, who silently waits like some patient saint.
"She approached us both, there was no warning. Ranma… he looked incredibly ill. Ami began insulting him. I do not know why she began doing this, only that it began at my slumber party," Crisp, yet emotionless. It is a report, no feeling or passion in it, as if her words had been drained of feeling. Perhaps she simply is exhausted.
How could she say it otherwise? Tired, weary. Her body feeling for all the life of her drained, succumbing to some life-sapping force. Perhaps she felt connected to that figure lying upon the bed, looking absolutely frail. The images of her face, as if she were reflected in some mirror… or viewing herself from outside, as she attacked the girl.
A sense of falling. Akane feeling as if she is being sucked down into herself by the well of dark emotions that run turbulent through her heart. Her inner voice begging to see his cocky smile, his carefree arrogance and pride, knowing now it is far too late for such frivolous hopes.
So she hopes simply for him to come back, no matter what might happen. The fear of losing him greater than the fear of never being his.
Sadness. An expression not common on the face of Kasumi. A gentle, curt nod… acknowledgement of the facts. She feels helpless, again the sense of failure. She was to protect the family, keep them safe. Ranma might not have been family by name, but he was family nonetheless.
Helpless. Her soul devoured by the feelings of frustration. She should have done something, she should have been able to help Ranma, her duty. Always her duty… she had promised to keep them all happy, promised Mother. Pain, dark pain, welling up. Eating her insides, tears springing to her eyes suddenly, without announcement. Her hand clasped so tightly to the boy's who lay inert upon the bed.
"It's just like Mother, all over again," Pouring forth, like a fount of woe as two tears stroll gentle trails down innocent cheeks, so long unfamiliar to such wetness. Helpless, again, as another loved one is devoured by grief. A strange, intangible mourning.
"DON'T SAY THAT!" A girl yells, hair cropped short, eyes red from tears long shed. "Don't say that, Kasumi, please," Her voice rasping as she speaks. She grasps the boys other hand tightly as well, shaking her head, her eyes clenched shut like coffin lids. She will not believe. Not of the one person who she once gave her life for. "Never say that," Words full of sobs and heaves and burning acrid saline.
A skeletal moment. Still, bare, motionless as death. Three women, all seated, waiting, praying, grieving for the living. A shadow at the door, hovering silent as a still wind. Movement, the sweeping clatter of silk on silk. A woman of elder years, looking stern, worried, as mournful as the rest.
"What has happened to my son?" Words like a puppet, expected, announced before spoken. Tense, on fragile strings they drift, awaiting an answer. Her deep blue eyes fierce, weary, worried. She steps careful, precise, graceful into the room, her stride practiced, her armor donned well and thick.
Strings cut, her expression no longer practiced. Her eyes grow wider as she sees the figure resigning itself upon the bed. Pale, troubled visage. "Kami-sama," She had expected something of an injury, a wound that could be treated. Her eyes searching desperately for a gash, an abrasion, anything that would give credence to the weak, drained look upon her dear child's ghostly features.
Motions mirror thought, Nodoka's hand tenuously drifting upwards. Fingertips brushing against gentle, rose-petal soft lips, surprise at her astonishment. Disbelieving of her shock. A thousand questions flitting from her mind like ashes rising from a fire.
"Kami-Sama, what has happened?" Emotions now, thick in her words and voice. No longer practiced, worry surfacing from the dark waters of professional detachment she had been draping around herself for some time now. Her socks whisking softly across the carpet, no matter that her knees feel weak now.
Fear was known.
Inferno blazing in eyes of earthen shade, looking upon the mother of the victim in malice. Eyes unwelcoming, procuring that this new woman is a deft intruder here. The girl with short hair grips Ranma's hands even tighter, holding onto it as if it might suddenly fade. "A girl at school attacked him emotionally, Aunty," There is barely contained anger. Akane does not know if she directs it at Nodoka, or at herself for being so cowardly as to not be there for Ranma when he needed her… needed someone.
"That cannot be all," A strange echo in the voice of the older woman, a questioning of self before her resolve solidifies once more. "Look at him, Akane! That cannot be ALL that is bothering him. He is sick," Tighter, her hands twine into the silk of the upper layer of her kimono.
"He misses him, Saotome-san," But a whisper, heard clearly though. Kuonji speaks, her eyes fixated upon her once love. Her still love, despite her own inward struggle. Hands gently resting on her lap, across a gleaming plate of metal with a 4 foot long handle… the shine of the edge waiting for an unwanted guest.
Nodoka takes a moment out of time as everything pauses. "That would not cause this, not in my Son. He is strong," Disbelief, her fingers extending, her arm reaching out to the figure on the bed as she steps closer. Warm fingers meet cold forehead, wet from a fever. The reaction is electricity, causing her hand to quickly retract from the disquieting sensation the meeting instilled.
"Are you so sure, Auntie? How can you be sure. Even I can't be sure, not anymore," When had it been last, when her eyes were dry? It seemed something of a dream. It passed her thoughts, for but a moment, that perhaps Ranma was sleeping. She felt a pang of jealousy.
Fingers, like silent dancers. Delicate tips brushing and skating along the smooth, pale surface of Ranma's cheek. I wish I could sleep. I wish I could just- let go. Fall. As inevitable as day, it dawned upon Akane that the prone, frail shell upon the bed was not only sleeping, it was leaving them all behind.
At the revelation, her eyes clench shut. She will not entertain the thought that, with but a fleeting breath, the man she loves could be gone; snuffed like a frail flame dancing upon a thin wick.
"Akane Dear, I realize how tenuous your emotions have been lately due to my Son's attitude since... the events of the prom," A silent moment, the elder woman biting her lip, perhaps unsure how to best tread upon dangerous waters. Hands locked together, one thumb rubbing across the top of the other as she summons forth the will to continue. "Regardless of this, Dear, Ranma's stamina as a martial artist keeps him in very good health. I... cannot believe that he would be this ill simply from-"
A soft whisper, cutting her words in two. Murmured from pale, unconscious lips, "Hiroshi," A gasp for air, a tired, strenuous sound from the prone man upon the bed. Fists, clenching upon the sheets.
All is quiet, still. For but a brief span, none dare to breath, hoping for hope. No further salvation is given from the once again silent figure.
"How can you not believe it, Saotome-San? Is it not obvious? Is it not plain that- that he wants him. Needs him," There is struggle in her voice, in her eyes as her hands caress the reflection of her young face staring back at her from the polished spatula across her lap. She had never quite dealt with the idea that Ranma preferred Akane, she wasn't sure if she could ever accept the idea that he preferred yet another person over herself.
Nodoka's delicate fingers trace her own cheek, a shiver traversing her spine as she brushes a stray lock of crimson hair behind one ear.
She straightens, doing best to cover her own fear for her child. Iron will, unbendable. "I cannot accept that, Kuonji-san. I cannot believe that my son would be so adversely affected due to his absence," soft, for a moment. Her face growing distant, a faint mist in her eyes as she entertains the briefest notion that she might be wronging her little one in some unforgivable way.
Her eyes return to the figure on the bed. "He chose to leave... Ranma knows that. You both know that. Even though I do not accept that love, that remains the truth. Immutable, unchangeable."
Abrupt she rises, like an angel of fierce conviction, "Don't you see, Auntie Saotome!? If it wasn't for you, if it wasn't for Hiroshi being afraid of ruining Ranma's life, of dishonoring him in front of you, he would still be here! And Ranma would still be okay!" Akane's words boil forth, weeks of frustration emerging forth once more in protection of the one man who had forever captured her heart.
Cool, with a noticeable air of sadness. Nodoka steps forwards to the younger girl, looking down at her with a very motherly expression. "Akane, don't you realize that I never factored into his plans? Hiroshi left because of you. Why not look at home before throwing stones at others. Hiroshi was your friend, as well as Ranma's. You were the one that drove him away, and you are the one to blame for this if you truly believe that this is being caused by Hiroshi's departure-"
A sharp crack, flesh meeting flesh, a hand meeting the Matrons cheek. Tears tracing down soft, young cheeks. "I Hate you." Akane trembles as she speaks, eyes downcast, bangs shadowing her face as her fists clench.
The two onlookers flinch. Soft words, spoken harsh. Nodoka's eyes widening at the words.
"I hate you," Reaffirmation, louder, clearer as she runs past Nodoka, out of the room. Choked sobs following her wake. A gentle, cold wind stirs the curtains. From whence, none know.
Itching and Burning, saline stinging her eyes. It has been a long time since Nodoka felt such a sensation, 17 years too long. 'Kami-sama," Her voice hoarse, rasping.
Complexion pale from shock, lips tight to keep her words in check, Ukyou watches the Tendou Matron's reaction. She feels her hand gripped on the handle of her spatula. Too tight... She forcibly relaxes it.
Jaw open in astonishment, dancing up and down for the brief moments after her sister's departure, Kasumi finds her hand drifting up to cover her gaping maw. "Aunt Nodoka, Are- Are you alright?" Like mice, are her words.
Hands searching. Eyes watering. Knees buckling. Nodoka takes a seat on the bed, finding herself looking at her son. His eyes closed, almost as if he might be sleeping. She felt accusation burning into her from those closed eyes, searing her soul. "It- It is not my fault. I- I have to protect our family. Our Honor, can't she see that?"
Wavering, tense and uncertain, Kasumi's voice chimes. "I am sure that she can see that, Auntie, it is just-" her words cleaved in two by the other young woman in the room, anger and fear in Ukyou's voice.
"Saotome-san, can't you see how much this is hurting Akane? All she wants is for things to go back to how they were, just like you. They can't! Everything changes, everything ALWAYS changes," yearning, sorrow in her words. She stands, her hands wrapped tightly around the hilt of her weapon, wishing that it could provide her protection against the deepest scars.
Head bowed, turmoil in her thoughts as she compares the words of the Kuonji girl with her inner voice. All I ever wanted was my son back. How could I have been so foolish, to let Genma take… everything from me?
"Why must it be about honor, Saotome-san? What is so very important that you would risk your happiness, Ranma's happiness?" Just a whisper, rasping and sore. Her words bleeding with a need for understanding, seeking what she could not find herself in the madness that was Ranma's life… that had become her life, since the day that she was left behind.
She leans on her spatula, unsure of her own footing. She had slept precious little since discovering what had transpired in her absence. Her gaze hungry upon Nodoka, needing to know what would be worth all of the suffering.
A moment. Brief, stretched out. The older woman's shoulders heave, shaking with her body. Moist eyes look up, anger and frustration in them. "Why must you all question me? It is all I have! It is all I have ever had, my honor! All I have ever had to anticipate, to wait for, to dream for, that my son honor our family heritage… that he become more than just what his father is. I am no monster!"
Burning, her voice rises, her eyes searing with an angry distress, "I am not a monster!" her body shaking with her conviction, the steel edge of them cutting into the two girls, rewarding their speaker with a deft flinch from both.
For an enduring moment, awkwardness prevails with its flailing, uncomfortable silence. Pain in her eyes, Nodoka turns, resting them back upon the sleeping figure. Her two companions giving worried, furtive glances which shift from between them, and upon the elder woman.
Heaving a sigh, Kasumi lowers her eyes. Her hands slack in her lap as her head moves from side to side. She half wonders why life is such a broken toy, before she sheds the thought. Madness lies there. "I- I must go and prepare dinner for Father and the rest."
She rises, her knees unsure and weak. In her nigh-habitual motion, flattening her apron across her skirt, a sidelong glance at Ukyou communicating her silent voiced opinion.
A nod in reception. Long, it seems, Ukyou stares at the Matron. "I can't lose him, Saotome-san," The words are raw, stripped. She swallows, her throat dry as she moves to the door.
Silently, the elder woman agrees. The two young girls leave. The sound of crying, muffled by the chest of a troubled sleeper remains in their wake.