Author's Note:
Okay so I haven't written in a long time and this is my first time in
fanfiction.net. The last thing I probably posted was "At The Day's End", a
Rurouni Kenshin fanfic back when I went around as RavenMoon with the
RKFFML. Gads, that was such a long time. Anyway, please place me in your
favor! *bows*
As for this fanfic - This happens the day after the OAV "The Kitchen is a Battlefield! I'll Be The One To Inherit Mother's Recipes". I hope you like it!
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi, but the story belongs to me. Any unauthorized copying, lending, or distribution without the author's consent is punishable by law. Violators shall be subjected to investigation by police agencies and to criminal prosecution. =^_~=
~*~
Lunar Ember Presents
A Ranma ½ Fanfiction
RECIPE FOR ROMANCE
~*~
Kasumi handed her another batch of plates.
"I'm awfully sorry that you had to do all this, Akane. But otousan - "
"Oh shush, oneechan. Don't worry about it." Akane got the plates from her. "Besides, I like doing stuff like this."
"Thank you."
"No problem."
Akane turned the faucet on. Kasumi said that she was feeling better already; true enough, her temperature was back to normal, and it didn't seem that she'd have a relapse. But just to make sure, the family made her do only light chores like wiping the plates dry. As for cooking and cleaning the house, it was Akane's job, much to the hidden dismay of the rest. She had pulled up her sleeves in determination.
Yes, she was going to make breakfast that day, and she was going to make it good.
Her family's poorly masked panic at the realization that Akane was cooking again didn't dampen her eagerness to get to work and to prove them wrong. And when Auntie Saotome, who had stayed overnight, had offered her help, she knew she could do it. The female Ranma had rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath when she heard of the arrangement, but she didn't say anything else about it anymore.
The broken pipe of the hot water heater had already been fixed the night before, and the kitchen was as clean as they could get it. The microwave was a hopeless case though, and Akane had sheepishly thrown it out to the trash.
Auntie Saotome had guided her through a western recipe from her mother's cooking book - homemade waffles. Now she knew what waffles were, and how costly they were sold in a fancy coffee shop downtown, and she was ecstatic when she realized that she'd would be able to make them all by herself. But of course this enthusiasm of hers had created some minor accidents - the batter had eggshells which had to be taken out one by one, and a couple of finished waffles had catsup instead of strawberry syrup on top. This didn't stop her though, and Auntie Saotome's encouragement had helped her a lot.
Akane smiled at the occurrences just around an hour ago. Her family, after a bit of hesitation, had scarfed down every last one of the waffles. Her father had once again bawled his eyes out, thanking Auntie Saotome for "curing" her. She had politely smiled at him, then turned to Ranma who had just finished her share. Ranma didn't want to admit it at first, but a smile from her "Auntie" had made her say that for first time, something that her tomboy "cousin" had created was edible. Akane wanted to mallet her then, but the urge disappeared when she saw the older woman wipe a smear of whipped cream from Ranma's face. Her hand had then brushed her red bangs away, and she smiled at her without a word.
She didn't know if anybody had seen it, but something had moved in Ranma's eyes. It was only for a split second, but it was there. Akane didn't know what it was or what it meant, but it had pinched her somewhere deep.
"Akane? Please don't keep the water running."
Akane blinked and saw that her fingertips were already wrinkled with staying a bit too long under the tap.
"So-sorry, Kasumi," she said, turning the water off. "I guess I've been daydreaming again."
"It's fine," her sister intoned as she approached her. "Are you done with the plates?"
"Mm. I've cleaned the pots too."
"Thank you Akane. Now why don't you join the others outside? I'll finish up here."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"Thanks Kasumi. And don't you overdo it just yet, okay?" She wiped her hands try, took off her apron, and squeezed Kasumi's arm before going out.
Ever since her mother had left them, Kasumi had been the one who manages the household. She had always done a great job of taking care of them, but sometimes she couldn't help but wonder how it would've been if her mother was still around. Ranma was indeed lucky with a mother like Saotome Nodoka, and she realized that she was lucky too, to have felt the older woman's love and compassion. Auntie Saotome had always treated her as her own child, and she was very happy to have met her.
The house was quiet now. Moments of peace in the Tendo Dojo were rare, and she decided to just sit on the engawa and watch the relaxing morning pass her by. She was about step out of the hallway when she heard Auntie Saotome's soothing voice.
". . .so I'll be going home later," she was saying. "But it was nice visiting your family again."
"Um, it was really nice of you to drop by too." It was Ranma, her usually screeching voice subdued in quiet conversation. "Ano - I mean - you're always welcome here."
Akane peeped from the corner. They were sitting side by side, and Ranma was nervously scratching the wooden floor with one finger. "She's being awfully quiet", she thought. "I wonder what's wrong."
"Auntie?"
"Hmm?"
"You - you don't really have to go right away, you know."
Akane's hand involuntarily found its way to her chest as realization dawned upon her. You don't really have to go right away. . .
It was Ranma's way of asking her to stay. It was only then that Akane understood how Ranma terribly missed her mom. And even if Auntie Saotome was with her now, she still went on missing her, for she'll always be Akane's little cousin to her, never her child.
"Oh, Ranko. Ranko, Ranko. . ."
Ranma's shoulders twitched, as if in pain at the sound of a make-believe name.
". . . you're a sweet one, aren't you. Don't worry dear, I'll be back."
"Really? You - You promise?"
"Of course! Besides," the woman placed a gentle hand on the mop of red hair. "I still have to check on my husband. And most especially on my Ranma. When they come back."
Akane watched as Nodoka's eyes softened with longing. "I really want to see them," she said, unconsciously running her fingers through Ranma's hair. "I wonder how they are? And my son -- is he eating well? I miss him. and I'm sure Akane misses him too."
A soft morning breeze passed and above them the wind chime tinkled.
"I - I'm sure they're doing well," Ranma said, her voice almost a whisper. "And - And I'm pretty sure - I'm pretty sure that they miss you too. E- Especially Ranma. . ."
Nodoka gave her a warm smile, and patted her head.
They were silent for a moment.
"Auntie?"
"Yes, Ranko?"
"Can I - Can I - hug you?"
The older woman's eyes widened in surprise.
"Y-Y-Youdon'thavetounlessyouwanttoImeanwhowouldwannahugsomebodylikemeand -"
Ranma's senseless tirade was cut short when Nodoka gently wrapped her arms around her and pulled her close.
"Oh. . ."
"Like this, Ranko?"
"Y-Yeah. . ."
Akane watched as Ranma awkwardly slipped her arms around her mother's waist, and stepped back into the dim lighting of the hallway. She could already feel the tears stinging her eyes. Irritated, she wiped them away with the back of her hand, and with a determined look on her face, she marched back from where she came from.
She would do something nice for Ranma before the day ended. Like hell she would.
***
Ranma sighed and slumped in front of the television. It was around 9:30 in the evening when Akane dragged him from his room to the dining area. When he asked what she was up to, she said that she would be making dessert. Upon hearing this, the entire family had immediately dissipated. Nabiki had quickly taken Kasumi to bed while their fathers made up excuses about stopping Happousai from stealing more underwear. Ranma sighed. He was the guinea pig for Akane's cooking again, and now that his mom had already left, there would be no one to rescue him.
Mom. . . he rolled the word in his head. He had been a girl for two days because of her visit, and it was kinda nice to be back to his normal male self. His mom had left that afternoon, saying that she'd be back soon for her husband and son.
"For me and oyaji", he sadly thought. "If she only knew. . . If she only knew. . ."
"Ranma?"
Ranma looked up and saw Akane standing in front of the television, holding a bowl full of - something.
"Uh. . . what's that, Akane?"
The girl beamed and placed it down on the table.
"It's fruit salad, see? I made it myself!"
Ranma gingerly peeked into the bowl and bit his tongue before he could say anything that would be hazardous to his health.
There were fruits all right. Fruits and - Ranma picked up a red piece - tomatoes?
"Uh, Akane?"
"Yes Ranma?"
"How come there are tomatoes in here?"
"Well, tomatoes are actually berries, right?" she explained, handing him a spoon and a couple of wads of table tissue. "They're technically fruit, so they're in there."
"Oh."
Ranma stared at the contents of the bowl for some time, silently debating if it was safer to eat it, or to feel the wrath of an insulted chef.
Akane tapped impatiently on the table. "Are you gonna eat it or not?"
"I'm eating, I'm eating!" Ranma scooped up some of the salad and immediately put it in his mouth before his fiancée could swat him with her spoon.
Wrong move. Before he could even chew he spat everything on his napkin. He thought he would die.
"Hey!" Akane exclaimed, digging in her own spoon into the salad. "It couldn't be that bad!"
Ranma coughed out the last of it, and ran to the kitchen to down a big glass of water. He refilled it again, and ran back out to see Akane already gagging on her tissue.
The boy sighed and sat down beside her. "Here," he said, handing her the glass.
"Th-thanks."
He watched her as she drank. "Akane, how much sugar did you add?"
"Um, a cup and a half?"
"WHAT?!"
"Mom's recipe book said, 'sweeten to taste'!"
"Akane, did you even taste it *after* you added the sugar?"
The girl bit her lip and shook her head.
"Sheesh," Ranma said, slapping his forehead. "You are such a clumsy tomboy."
Akane seethed, hitting him with her spoon. "Baka!"
"Yeaow! Whaddya do that for?!"
"I just wanted to do something nice for you, you idiot!"
"Eh?" Ranma blinked, rubbing the sore spot on his head. He could already feel a lump forming. "And what the hell possessed you to do something - er - nice for me?"
He watched her as she suddenly became subdued. She was uncomfortable, that he could see. She couldn't even meet his gaze. It fascinated him, how a tomboy like her could suddenly become a real girl in a blinking. She was actually kinda cute that way, now that he thought of it, and - wait, was she blushing?
"Stop staring at me like that, you dolt."
Ranma felt his face turn warm, and suddenly, he couldn't meet her gaze as well. Clearing his throat, he once again picked up his spoon and poked at the salad.
"Um, Akane?"
"Yeah?"
"Why 'dya do something like this for me?"
She was silent for a long while, and when he thought that she was never going to answer, she said, "I know that you miss your mom, and you miss her cooking."
Ranma's eyes widened a bit in surprise. How did she --
"That's why - That's why I wanted to make you something -- something that my mom used to make. So that even if you won't be able to taste your mom's cooking all the time, you'll somehow be able to taste my mom's cooking. And maybe - " she hesitated, her fingers playing with her skirts " - and maybe thinking about something like that will ease the sadness."
She was quiet for a long time after that.
Ranma stared at her, the surprise long gone. She understood. Of course she did. She lost her mom to an illness, and he didn't seem to have one even if he did. She missed her mother too. Just as he missed his.
He remembered how it felt like to be in his mother's arms again. It was like dusting off old memories, reliving the moments that he thought he had forgotten. His mother smelled like tea and plum - a nostalgic kind of scent that reminded one of a childhood long gone. He had breathed it in, imprinted it in his brain, so that whenever he felt lonely he'd just remember her scent, and everything would be better.
Just when he thought that nobody would understand how he really felt, here came Akane with a bowlful of disaster, trying to make him smile.
And smile he did.
"Akane?"
She looked at him uncertainly, a mix of emotions in her eyes.
"Baaa---kaaaa!"
The girl blinked at him, then clenched her jaw and fisted her hands.
"What did you just say?"
"Baka," he repeated, tapping his spoon on the side of the bowl. "This ain't the right way to make fruit salad."
"Like I don't know it already!"
A mallet materialized out of thin air.
"Hey, hey Akane! Back off! I was just thinking that maybe we could do it all over again!"
Akane blinked, and the mallet disappeared. Someday, Ranma thought, he'd have to find out where exactly she kept that mallet.
"D-Do it all over again?"
"Yeah."
"Mommy's salad?"
"Yeah."
". . .We?"
Ranma scratched the back of his head, suddenly feeling uneasy. "Uh. . . yeah. . . we. . . I mean who else?"
Akane smiled at him. It was a smile that made him feel like putty, though he didn't exactly know why. It was also a smile that meant that he did something that pleased her, which was actually nice - and healthy.
"Okay," she nodded, standing up to retrieve the bowl. "You think that I should toss this out now?"
"Yeah - oh wait, don't," he said. "Let's keep it for now, so that we could see the mistakes that you did, and we could you know, improve on them and stuff." He got up and took the bowl from her. "C'mon."
Oh he was definitely doing something right, for she was practically beaming at him, and her eyes were so bright and warm that he couldn't help but smile back.
Walking towards the kitchen, he began the lecture.
"Usually, you don't really have to add sugar in your fruit salad anymore."
"I don't?"
"Nope. You could just use a bit of the syrup of the fruit cocktail you used," he said, pushing back the noren on that hung on the doorframe as he entered the kitchen. He noted that that the place wasn't really messy - Akane must've cleaned up after her "experimentation." He placed the bowl on the counter, and spotted the fabled recipe book. "Um, you mind if I skim through it?"
Akane walked up beside him, gently picked up the old notebook and she handed it to him. "Be my guest."
Ranma flipped the pages with reverence. This was the notebook of Akane's mother. He knew now that it was important. As he looked though the pages of desserts, he wondered what kind of a woman Akane's mother was. Maybe she was a bit like his.
"Here. Fruit salad. See?" he said, pointing at the page. "I was right."
Akane peered over his shoulder. "But it also says 'sweeten to taste'."
"You don't have to add much though. The syrup is sweet enough." He smiled, and closed the notebook gently. It was actually nice not having to argue with her for once. "Wanna start?"
Akane nodded enthusiastically. "Mm!"
Ranma handed her a new can of fruit cocktail from the refrigerator as she got a new bowl from the cupboard.
"Cooking is like martial arts, Akane. It's the right moves, the right force, at the right time."
"I see. . ."
Ranma watched her as she started opening the can, her tongue sticking out in concentration and her eyes reflecting delight. She was just like a little kid. He mentally chuckled. A kiddy tomboy who made a jerk like him feel better. As he watched her methodically turn the can opener, he felt the last of the sadness wash away.
"Akane?"
"What? Did I do something wrong?"
Ranma laughed. "Don't get too panicked, you tomboy."
"Hey - "
"I just wanted to say thanks. You know - for trying to do something nice for me."
The girl stared at him in surprised.
"I ain't good at the flowery stuff and mush and I ain't intending on makin' this a big thing but hey it is a big thing after all and I don't know what exactly I'm talking about now but -" he gave out one big sigh. "But thanks Akane. Really."
Akane blinked at him, then went back to opening the can, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"You're welcome, Ranma."
The kitchen was silent for a long time, save for the screechy sound of tin. Ranma didn't know what to do, but he knew that he had to do something, so clumsily, he reached out for the hand that held the can opener and squeezed it gently.
He felt Akane's gaze behind him as he took out the all-purpose cream from the fridge. In spite of the sudden timidity that came over him, he felt himself smiling, and later on that night he would realize that he wouldn't be able to stop smiling.
The memory of the smell of tea and plum wafted to his nose.
Look, mom. I made my fiancée happy.
He felt better already.
***
Kasumi woke up early the next day. Feeling completely well, she got out of bed to prepare breakfast. As she padded softly to the dining area, she didn't quite expect the sight that greeted her.
"Oh my. . ."
The television was on, the drone of static flowing softly into the room. On the table was a big empty bowl of what appeared to be cream. A couple of spoons and rolled-up tissue sat forgotten not far away from the heads of Ranma and Akane, who did not even stir at her arrival.
As quietly as she could, Kasumi approached the table and dipped her finger into the leftover cream on the bottom of the bowl. She tasted it, and her eyes brightened at the smooth and syrupy taste that filled her mouth.
"Fruit salad", she thought. "Just like mom's. . ."
She turned her gaze to the couple who was still fast asleep. The two sat side by side, their heads resting on the table as they faced each other. The sight of them was sweet in its own way, cozy in its casualness. Kasumi smiled when she saw her mother's recipe notebook resting between their faces, both their hands on top of it, their fingers almost brushing.
It wasn't the most comfortable position in the world, but Kasumi could imagine that it would be one of their best slumbers ever.
She didn't have the heart to wake them up just yet. Kasumi pulled herself up and smiled.
" I'd better let them be for a while. Now what would be good for breakfast?"
As she walked into the kitchen, she failed to notice Akane slightly stir, her pinky unconsciously sliding over Ranma's fingers.
*~owari~*
As for this fanfic - This happens the day after the OAV "The Kitchen is a Battlefield! I'll Be The One To Inherit Mother's Recipes". I hope you like it!
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi, but the story belongs to me. Any unauthorized copying, lending, or distribution without the author's consent is punishable by law. Violators shall be subjected to investigation by police agencies and to criminal prosecution. =^_~=
~*~
Lunar Ember Presents
A Ranma ½ Fanfiction
RECIPE FOR ROMANCE
~*~
Kasumi handed her another batch of plates.
"I'm awfully sorry that you had to do all this, Akane. But otousan - "
"Oh shush, oneechan. Don't worry about it." Akane got the plates from her. "Besides, I like doing stuff like this."
"Thank you."
"No problem."
Akane turned the faucet on. Kasumi said that she was feeling better already; true enough, her temperature was back to normal, and it didn't seem that she'd have a relapse. But just to make sure, the family made her do only light chores like wiping the plates dry. As for cooking and cleaning the house, it was Akane's job, much to the hidden dismay of the rest. She had pulled up her sleeves in determination.
Yes, she was going to make breakfast that day, and she was going to make it good.
Her family's poorly masked panic at the realization that Akane was cooking again didn't dampen her eagerness to get to work and to prove them wrong. And when Auntie Saotome, who had stayed overnight, had offered her help, she knew she could do it. The female Ranma had rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath when she heard of the arrangement, but she didn't say anything else about it anymore.
The broken pipe of the hot water heater had already been fixed the night before, and the kitchen was as clean as they could get it. The microwave was a hopeless case though, and Akane had sheepishly thrown it out to the trash.
Auntie Saotome had guided her through a western recipe from her mother's cooking book - homemade waffles. Now she knew what waffles were, and how costly they were sold in a fancy coffee shop downtown, and she was ecstatic when she realized that she'd would be able to make them all by herself. But of course this enthusiasm of hers had created some minor accidents - the batter had eggshells which had to be taken out one by one, and a couple of finished waffles had catsup instead of strawberry syrup on top. This didn't stop her though, and Auntie Saotome's encouragement had helped her a lot.
Akane smiled at the occurrences just around an hour ago. Her family, after a bit of hesitation, had scarfed down every last one of the waffles. Her father had once again bawled his eyes out, thanking Auntie Saotome for "curing" her. She had politely smiled at him, then turned to Ranma who had just finished her share. Ranma didn't want to admit it at first, but a smile from her "Auntie" had made her say that for first time, something that her tomboy "cousin" had created was edible. Akane wanted to mallet her then, but the urge disappeared when she saw the older woman wipe a smear of whipped cream from Ranma's face. Her hand had then brushed her red bangs away, and she smiled at her without a word.
She didn't know if anybody had seen it, but something had moved in Ranma's eyes. It was only for a split second, but it was there. Akane didn't know what it was or what it meant, but it had pinched her somewhere deep.
"Akane? Please don't keep the water running."
Akane blinked and saw that her fingertips were already wrinkled with staying a bit too long under the tap.
"So-sorry, Kasumi," she said, turning the water off. "I guess I've been daydreaming again."
"It's fine," her sister intoned as she approached her. "Are you done with the plates?"
"Mm. I've cleaned the pots too."
"Thank you Akane. Now why don't you join the others outside? I'll finish up here."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"Thanks Kasumi. And don't you overdo it just yet, okay?" She wiped her hands try, took off her apron, and squeezed Kasumi's arm before going out.
Ever since her mother had left them, Kasumi had been the one who manages the household. She had always done a great job of taking care of them, but sometimes she couldn't help but wonder how it would've been if her mother was still around. Ranma was indeed lucky with a mother like Saotome Nodoka, and she realized that she was lucky too, to have felt the older woman's love and compassion. Auntie Saotome had always treated her as her own child, and she was very happy to have met her.
The house was quiet now. Moments of peace in the Tendo Dojo were rare, and she decided to just sit on the engawa and watch the relaxing morning pass her by. She was about step out of the hallway when she heard Auntie Saotome's soothing voice.
". . .so I'll be going home later," she was saying. "But it was nice visiting your family again."
"Um, it was really nice of you to drop by too." It was Ranma, her usually screeching voice subdued in quiet conversation. "Ano - I mean - you're always welcome here."
Akane peeped from the corner. They were sitting side by side, and Ranma was nervously scratching the wooden floor with one finger. "She's being awfully quiet", she thought. "I wonder what's wrong."
"Auntie?"
"Hmm?"
"You - you don't really have to go right away, you know."
Akane's hand involuntarily found its way to her chest as realization dawned upon her. You don't really have to go right away. . .
It was Ranma's way of asking her to stay. It was only then that Akane understood how Ranma terribly missed her mom. And even if Auntie Saotome was with her now, she still went on missing her, for she'll always be Akane's little cousin to her, never her child.
"Oh, Ranko. Ranko, Ranko. . ."
Ranma's shoulders twitched, as if in pain at the sound of a make-believe name.
". . . you're a sweet one, aren't you. Don't worry dear, I'll be back."
"Really? You - You promise?"
"Of course! Besides," the woman placed a gentle hand on the mop of red hair. "I still have to check on my husband. And most especially on my Ranma. When they come back."
Akane watched as Nodoka's eyes softened with longing. "I really want to see them," she said, unconsciously running her fingers through Ranma's hair. "I wonder how they are? And my son -- is he eating well? I miss him. and I'm sure Akane misses him too."
A soft morning breeze passed and above them the wind chime tinkled.
"I - I'm sure they're doing well," Ranma said, her voice almost a whisper. "And - And I'm pretty sure - I'm pretty sure that they miss you too. E- Especially Ranma. . ."
Nodoka gave her a warm smile, and patted her head.
They were silent for a moment.
"Auntie?"
"Yes, Ranko?"
"Can I - Can I - hug you?"
The older woman's eyes widened in surprise.
"Y-Y-Youdon'thavetounlessyouwanttoImeanwhowouldwannahugsomebodylikemeand -"
Ranma's senseless tirade was cut short when Nodoka gently wrapped her arms around her and pulled her close.
"Oh. . ."
"Like this, Ranko?"
"Y-Yeah. . ."
Akane watched as Ranma awkwardly slipped her arms around her mother's waist, and stepped back into the dim lighting of the hallway. She could already feel the tears stinging her eyes. Irritated, she wiped them away with the back of her hand, and with a determined look on her face, she marched back from where she came from.
She would do something nice for Ranma before the day ended. Like hell she would.
***
Ranma sighed and slumped in front of the television. It was around 9:30 in the evening when Akane dragged him from his room to the dining area. When he asked what she was up to, she said that she would be making dessert. Upon hearing this, the entire family had immediately dissipated. Nabiki had quickly taken Kasumi to bed while their fathers made up excuses about stopping Happousai from stealing more underwear. Ranma sighed. He was the guinea pig for Akane's cooking again, and now that his mom had already left, there would be no one to rescue him.
Mom. . . he rolled the word in his head. He had been a girl for two days because of her visit, and it was kinda nice to be back to his normal male self. His mom had left that afternoon, saying that she'd be back soon for her husband and son.
"For me and oyaji", he sadly thought. "If she only knew. . . If she only knew. . ."
"Ranma?"
Ranma looked up and saw Akane standing in front of the television, holding a bowl full of - something.
"Uh. . . what's that, Akane?"
The girl beamed and placed it down on the table.
"It's fruit salad, see? I made it myself!"
Ranma gingerly peeked into the bowl and bit his tongue before he could say anything that would be hazardous to his health.
There were fruits all right. Fruits and - Ranma picked up a red piece - tomatoes?
"Uh, Akane?"
"Yes Ranma?"
"How come there are tomatoes in here?"
"Well, tomatoes are actually berries, right?" she explained, handing him a spoon and a couple of wads of table tissue. "They're technically fruit, so they're in there."
"Oh."
Ranma stared at the contents of the bowl for some time, silently debating if it was safer to eat it, or to feel the wrath of an insulted chef.
Akane tapped impatiently on the table. "Are you gonna eat it or not?"
"I'm eating, I'm eating!" Ranma scooped up some of the salad and immediately put it in his mouth before his fiancée could swat him with her spoon.
Wrong move. Before he could even chew he spat everything on his napkin. He thought he would die.
"Hey!" Akane exclaimed, digging in her own spoon into the salad. "It couldn't be that bad!"
Ranma coughed out the last of it, and ran to the kitchen to down a big glass of water. He refilled it again, and ran back out to see Akane already gagging on her tissue.
The boy sighed and sat down beside her. "Here," he said, handing her the glass.
"Th-thanks."
He watched her as she drank. "Akane, how much sugar did you add?"
"Um, a cup and a half?"
"WHAT?!"
"Mom's recipe book said, 'sweeten to taste'!"
"Akane, did you even taste it *after* you added the sugar?"
The girl bit her lip and shook her head.
"Sheesh," Ranma said, slapping his forehead. "You are such a clumsy tomboy."
Akane seethed, hitting him with her spoon. "Baka!"
"Yeaow! Whaddya do that for?!"
"I just wanted to do something nice for you, you idiot!"
"Eh?" Ranma blinked, rubbing the sore spot on his head. He could already feel a lump forming. "And what the hell possessed you to do something - er - nice for me?"
He watched her as she suddenly became subdued. She was uncomfortable, that he could see. She couldn't even meet his gaze. It fascinated him, how a tomboy like her could suddenly become a real girl in a blinking. She was actually kinda cute that way, now that he thought of it, and - wait, was she blushing?
"Stop staring at me like that, you dolt."
Ranma felt his face turn warm, and suddenly, he couldn't meet her gaze as well. Clearing his throat, he once again picked up his spoon and poked at the salad.
"Um, Akane?"
"Yeah?"
"Why 'dya do something like this for me?"
She was silent for a long while, and when he thought that she was never going to answer, she said, "I know that you miss your mom, and you miss her cooking."
Ranma's eyes widened a bit in surprise. How did she --
"That's why - That's why I wanted to make you something -- something that my mom used to make. So that even if you won't be able to taste your mom's cooking all the time, you'll somehow be able to taste my mom's cooking. And maybe - " she hesitated, her fingers playing with her skirts " - and maybe thinking about something like that will ease the sadness."
She was quiet for a long time after that.
Ranma stared at her, the surprise long gone. She understood. Of course she did. She lost her mom to an illness, and he didn't seem to have one even if he did. She missed her mother too. Just as he missed his.
He remembered how it felt like to be in his mother's arms again. It was like dusting off old memories, reliving the moments that he thought he had forgotten. His mother smelled like tea and plum - a nostalgic kind of scent that reminded one of a childhood long gone. He had breathed it in, imprinted it in his brain, so that whenever he felt lonely he'd just remember her scent, and everything would be better.
Just when he thought that nobody would understand how he really felt, here came Akane with a bowlful of disaster, trying to make him smile.
And smile he did.
"Akane?"
She looked at him uncertainly, a mix of emotions in her eyes.
"Baaa---kaaaa!"
The girl blinked at him, then clenched her jaw and fisted her hands.
"What did you just say?"
"Baka," he repeated, tapping his spoon on the side of the bowl. "This ain't the right way to make fruit salad."
"Like I don't know it already!"
A mallet materialized out of thin air.
"Hey, hey Akane! Back off! I was just thinking that maybe we could do it all over again!"
Akane blinked, and the mallet disappeared. Someday, Ranma thought, he'd have to find out where exactly she kept that mallet.
"D-Do it all over again?"
"Yeah."
"Mommy's salad?"
"Yeah."
". . .We?"
Ranma scratched the back of his head, suddenly feeling uneasy. "Uh. . . yeah. . . we. . . I mean who else?"
Akane smiled at him. It was a smile that made him feel like putty, though he didn't exactly know why. It was also a smile that meant that he did something that pleased her, which was actually nice - and healthy.
"Okay," she nodded, standing up to retrieve the bowl. "You think that I should toss this out now?"
"Yeah - oh wait, don't," he said. "Let's keep it for now, so that we could see the mistakes that you did, and we could you know, improve on them and stuff." He got up and took the bowl from her. "C'mon."
Oh he was definitely doing something right, for she was practically beaming at him, and her eyes were so bright and warm that he couldn't help but smile back.
Walking towards the kitchen, he began the lecture.
"Usually, you don't really have to add sugar in your fruit salad anymore."
"I don't?"
"Nope. You could just use a bit of the syrup of the fruit cocktail you used," he said, pushing back the noren on that hung on the doorframe as he entered the kitchen. He noted that that the place wasn't really messy - Akane must've cleaned up after her "experimentation." He placed the bowl on the counter, and spotted the fabled recipe book. "Um, you mind if I skim through it?"
Akane walked up beside him, gently picked up the old notebook and she handed it to him. "Be my guest."
Ranma flipped the pages with reverence. This was the notebook of Akane's mother. He knew now that it was important. As he looked though the pages of desserts, he wondered what kind of a woman Akane's mother was. Maybe she was a bit like his.
"Here. Fruit salad. See?" he said, pointing at the page. "I was right."
Akane peered over his shoulder. "But it also says 'sweeten to taste'."
"You don't have to add much though. The syrup is sweet enough." He smiled, and closed the notebook gently. It was actually nice not having to argue with her for once. "Wanna start?"
Akane nodded enthusiastically. "Mm!"
Ranma handed her a new can of fruit cocktail from the refrigerator as she got a new bowl from the cupboard.
"Cooking is like martial arts, Akane. It's the right moves, the right force, at the right time."
"I see. . ."
Ranma watched her as she started opening the can, her tongue sticking out in concentration and her eyes reflecting delight. She was just like a little kid. He mentally chuckled. A kiddy tomboy who made a jerk like him feel better. As he watched her methodically turn the can opener, he felt the last of the sadness wash away.
"Akane?"
"What? Did I do something wrong?"
Ranma laughed. "Don't get too panicked, you tomboy."
"Hey - "
"I just wanted to say thanks. You know - for trying to do something nice for me."
The girl stared at him in surprised.
"I ain't good at the flowery stuff and mush and I ain't intending on makin' this a big thing but hey it is a big thing after all and I don't know what exactly I'm talking about now but -" he gave out one big sigh. "But thanks Akane. Really."
Akane blinked at him, then went back to opening the can, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"You're welcome, Ranma."
The kitchen was silent for a long time, save for the screechy sound of tin. Ranma didn't know what to do, but he knew that he had to do something, so clumsily, he reached out for the hand that held the can opener and squeezed it gently.
He felt Akane's gaze behind him as he took out the all-purpose cream from the fridge. In spite of the sudden timidity that came over him, he felt himself smiling, and later on that night he would realize that he wouldn't be able to stop smiling.
The memory of the smell of tea and plum wafted to his nose.
Look, mom. I made my fiancée happy.
He felt better already.
***
Kasumi woke up early the next day. Feeling completely well, she got out of bed to prepare breakfast. As she padded softly to the dining area, she didn't quite expect the sight that greeted her.
"Oh my. . ."
The television was on, the drone of static flowing softly into the room. On the table was a big empty bowl of what appeared to be cream. A couple of spoons and rolled-up tissue sat forgotten not far away from the heads of Ranma and Akane, who did not even stir at her arrival.
As quietly as she could, Kasumi approached the table and dipped her finger into the leftover cream on the bottom of the bowl. She tasted it, and her eyes brightened at the smooth and syrupy taste that filled her mouth.
"Fruit salad", she thought. "Just like mom's. . ."
She turned her gaze to the couple who was still fast asleep. The two sat side by side, their heads resting on the table as they faced each other. The sight of them was sweet in its own way, cozy in its casualness. Kasumi smiled when she saw her mother's recipe notebook resting between their faces, both their hands on top of it, their fingers almost brushing.
It wasn't the most comfortable position in the world, but Kasumi could imagine that it would be one of their best slumbers ever.
She didn't have the heart to wake them up just yet. Kasumi pulled herself up and smiled.
" I'd better let them be for a while. Now what would be good for breakfast?"
As she walked into the kitchen, she failed to notice Akane slightly stir, her pinky unconsciously sliding over Ranma's fingers.
*~owari~*