Sorry it took me so long to post.
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't want 'em, and none of you care either way.
"Hush now, Kiyo, Yoko. It's not going to storm," Akane whispered, a protective hand going over her belly. The twins kicked her harder for her troubles. Some days she was positive they were practising katas, already preparing to take over the family buisness.
She'd adamantly refused to find out whether they were boys or girls or one of each. She knew (because Amara had told her repeatedly) that ultrasounds are often wrong about such things. There were two heartbeats, that was enough for her. She knew they were going to be healthy. They were her children, Ranma's children. . . barring some defect, they couldn't help but be healthy. They'd even proven to be a bit psychic.
Every time it was about to storm, they grew restless, rythmically kicking her liver to warn her. Of course, she didn't care one whit if it were going to storm or not, but the warning was a sweet gesture nontheless.
Secretly, she had named them. She knew in her heart that they were both girls. Her girls. And she would teach them to fight, perhaps even to be better than their father. Wouldn't that just show him? If he were beaten by his own daughter, even Ranma Saotome would have to give up on a little chauvanism. Not that he wasn't better about that than he used to be. . .
Akane shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. Of course, in her eighth month, there was no such thing. She felt every inch of her skin, tender and oversensitive, shudering every time her skirts brushed her legs or a blde of grass flicked by her ankle. Her back hurt all the time, and every so often there would be a twinge, a contortion across her stomach that made her afraid, just for a moment.
The winter was passing, slowly receding into the distance while leaving the blustery winds behind. One such wind blew across her yard, rippling the waters in the pond. The tree was bare, skeletal almost, with branches wet from melted snow black against the grey sky.
That was when the wall fell in.
It had been so long since random destruction had stalked either her or her husband that she simply stared at the crumbled fortification for a moment. Standing in the hole was a lonely little figure, bedraggled and cold. Her clothes were just thin cotton, but she didn't shiver in the icy winds or brush her long, purple hair out of her pretty eyes. She stared at Akane across the yard with an odd glint in her eye.
A storm, it seemed, had indeed come.
-----------------------
Ranma tiptoed around the corner, peering around it before allowing too much of himself to be seen. He was trying his hardest to avoid Akane. He did love her, and he did treasure those moments when they were laying together, when he could cradle her sleeping form and the unseen children she was about the bear him. That was just it. Her sleeping form. An awake Akane, full of all the maddening hormones pregnancy can cause, was hell on earth. She caused earthquakes over the slightest tremble of her world.
He saw her before she saw him, sitting at the edge of the tea room facing the garden. She had the damn door open again, letting in the cold air. SHE, of course, insisted she was burning up while the house was actually ice cold. No wonder.
He was about to tiptoe away when he saw the expression on her face. Akane looked positively stricken. She was staring at a point in the yard, without moving or blinking.
That was probably bad.
He strode over to stand behind her, and looked out the paper doors. Ah. Of course. Standing in the ruins of their outer wall, Shampoo was staring at Akane. She looked much like Ryouga had when he first arrived in Nerima, worn and half-mad. His chest tightened with rage at the memory of what she'd done in China, and he stepped out the back door. They'd run from the Amazon vilalge because that was her territory, and the people there were her friends. This was his territory. And she was a fool for coming to find them after what she had done.
"Shampoo!" he snarled, his voice carrying clear through the brisk air. "What do you want?"
"I no. . . hurt. Look for. . "she closed her eyes breifly, and placed a hand on the edge of the ruined wall to steady herself. "husband. Must find. . ." And then she fell, face first onto the grass.
Akane and Ranma simply stared at her for a moment. After an akward pause, Akane stepped forward. She lumbered over to Shampoo's prone form and gently tapped her shoulder. When the Amazon didn't move, she flipped her over.
"She fainted!" Akane said, in wonder. Her gaze traveled to the torn cotton chirt and the ribs poking nearly throught the skin. "No wonder, she's half-starved. Ranma. . ." she turned to find her husband was already by her side. He was frowning down at the Amazon.
"I'll carry her in," he offered. He picked her up, none to gently, and carried her into the spare bedroom Happosai sometimes used. As he laid her down, Akane placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"You should stay with her. I'll go make something to eat," Akane offered, as always kind even to those who had hurt her. Ranma winced and placed his hand over hers, preventing her from leaving.
"No, you stay with her. I'll go make something to eat," he insisted. Akane rapped him lightly ont eh back of his head.
"And what if she wakes up and decides to kill me? She said she was looking for her husband. Who knows what she means by that? You stay. You can restrain her," Akane retorted, and withdrew her hand. Ranma listened to her retrating footsteps and sighed in resignation. We who are about to die and all that, right?
Shampoo, as it turned out, didn't wake up until Akane had returned, some time later, with a pot of broth, three bowls, and a plate of pork buns. Ranma helped her set down the food, but eyes it suspiciously. Thankfully, the return of Shampoo to the concious world gave him an excuse not to eat. He'd pretend to be too occupied to want food.
"Have some broth," Akane ordered, seeing Shampoo's eyelids flutter. The young Amazon sat up slowly and accepted a bowl of broth from Akane. She sipped at it thoughtfully, then downed the majority of it in one gulp. She held out her bowl for more.
"Shampoo hungry enough eat raw egg," she said, without the faintest trace of a smile. Akane debated about whether or nto to be offended for a moment, but then decided she had beeter things to occupy her thoughts.
"Why are you here?" she asked, not half as gently as Kasumi would have. Shampoo looked at her in surprise.
"I tell you already. Look for husband."
"This is MY husband," Akane said firmly, taking a proprietary hold of Ranma's hand. Shampoo snorted and turned her nose up haughtilly.
"I look for MY husband. Grandmother say Mousse go you. He here?" she asked, looking sharply at the young couple. With twin expressions of shock, they shook their heads.
"He left to go visit his mother," Ranma informed his former fiance. Shampoo closed her eyes and flopped back on her futon.
"Ai ya. All the way back to China."
--------------------
The problem with pork, Ranma reflected, was that it spoiled so damn easily. And the problem with pork buns was that they required pork. And the problem with weating prok buns was that stupid, no-good cooks like Akane could really, really screw up without even trying hard. And the problem with that was they could get food poisoning. Which was fine, really, a good puke will teach bad cooks to order take-out. But pregnant bad cooks with food poisoning are definitely an unfortunate breed. It sends them into premature labor.
He hadn't had any, of course. Thank heaven for small favors. Very, very small favors.
Or so he had found out. After carrying Akane, tiny and wretched with pains so sporadic they made her groan, across the rooftops of Nerima to the hospital he'd been informed she had food poisoning. And then, of course, there was the tiny matter of having his twins born almost a month early. Hell. Bloody, sodding, swiving hell.
Which was why, ultimately, he was stuck in this godawful waiting room, in sickening shades of light blue and powder pink (colors he was rapidly beginning to hate) waiting for his wife to just give birth already and have done with it. Six hours. Six hours already.
"Ranma-kun, please stop pacing," Kasumi said tiredly. Dr. Tofu was in the area apparently only doctors were allowed to see. Ranma had tried to follow him in, but Dr.Tofu had held him back.
"She'll be fine, Ranma." The doctor had said. Ranma had almost punched him in the nose.
"She's my wife, damnit, I have a right to see that she'd safe!" Ranma had snarled. He had no idea where those particular words came from, and didn't care.
"Believe me when I tell you that if you see this, you will never look at her the same again. You want to be out here. Trust me." And with that, the doctor was gone. And Ranma had been too much of a trusting idiot to question him. Of course, he had a point. Some ten, fourteen pounds of baby matter coming OUT of . . . perish the thought.
"Perhaps you should go get us something to eat, honey," Nodoka suggested. The whole gang was there in the damned waiting room. Even Shampoo, who was barely well ebough to walk on her own in Dr. Tofu's opinion.
Which was wonderful. They'd have an invalid int eh house, a rather sick and irritable young mother, TWO brand-new lumps of flesh, not to mention the usual crowd. Ranma wasn't at all sure he could handly this. His nerves were fraying so fast his extremities were actually going numb.
"No, I want to be here when they announce it's all over," he growled, not caring when his mother winced. He was so not in the mood for this. He wanted to hit something. Anything. Where was Kuno when you needed him?
Two hours later, Dr. Tofu emerged into the waiting room, a tired but entirely satisfied smile on his face. Ranma lit up with hope when he saw his expression. He'd tried not to worry about her. . . she was so strong but her bones WERE awfully tiny. . . but she was all right. He could see it on Dr. Tofu's face.
Dr. Tofu walked very gravely up to Ranma and solemnly shook his hand.
"Congratulations," he smiled. "Twin boys."
The room erupted into celebration all around the stunned new father, who wore and understnadably dumbfounded grin on his face. Everyone was cheering, Nodoka was practically dancing. Everyone but Shampoo. She was watching the doctor and Ranma with a deep sadness in her eyes. The only coherent thought she could form was: someday
------------------
"Akane!" Ranma sighed, closing the door behind him. She looked up at his approach, a soft, tired smile lighting up her face. She looked like hell. She looked like someone had beat the hell out of her. It didn't matter. It didn't matter one bit.
He strode over to her bed and brushed her heair, still damp from sweat, back behind her ear. Bubbling with joy and anxiety for the days ahead, he bent to kiss her intending it only to be a small reassurance of her presence. But as always, there was a moment when they touched in which he could lose himself, and this time he didn't have the control to fight it. He kissed her thoroughly, taking his time, tasting the blood on her tongue where she'd bitten her lip. At last he pulled away.
"Well, hi," Akane smiled. She shifted in her bed, and Ranma noticed for the first tiem the two tiny, sleeping forms she held, one in each arm. They were purple, and wrinkled, yawning. Hesitantly, he reached out and traced a finger down the smooth slope of one's skull.
"I don't have any names for boys," Akane said sadly. Ranma laughed, a little nervously. His sons. He was a father.
Oh, boy.
"Me either. Doesn't much matter what we call them, does it?" Ranma asked, a little surprised. Akane rolled her eyes.
"Of course it matters! Now, are you going to take one or not?" she asked crossly. Ranma looked down at the tiny bodies in her arms.
"Uh-uh. I'll break it," he said blunlty. Akane glared at him, and he gulped. "Okay, okay, how do you hold a baby?"
"Just support the head. At all times," she instructed. Gingerly, he picked upthe one in the arm closest to him. The tiny boy opened his eyes for just a second, then drifted off to sleep. His body was limp as a rag dolls, and Ranma knew he didn't weigh more than six pounds. Five, maybe.
He was tiny, with little hairs all over and no hair where there was supposed to be hair. He was tiny and perfect, with little fingernails and toenails and pudgy little limbs. His belly was round and tight as a drum, with a massively protruding navel.
Ranma felt a warm, cheerful fire burst in his belly and spread to his heart, to his lungs, and out through his mouth.
"Well, hello, there."
--------------
My brother posted a Sailor Moon fic at or something of the sort. His name is King Seth, at any rate, which is just bad. It's bad. Oh, it's bad. But he is my kid brother, and I believe he'd be pleased as punch to get even a flamer.
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't want 'em, and none of you care either way.
"Hush now, Kiyo, Yoko. It's not going to storm," Akane whispered, a protective hand going over her belly. The twins kicked her harder for her troubles. Some days she was positive they were practising katas, already preparing to take over the family buisness.
She'd adamantly refused to find out whether they were boys or girls or one of each. She knew (because Amara had told her repeatedly) that ultrasounds are often wrong about such things. There were two heartbeats, that was enough for her. She knew they were going to be healthy. They were her children, Ranma's children. . . barring some defect, they couldn't help but be healthy. They'd even proven to be a bit psychic.
Every time it was about to storm, they grew restless, rythmically kicking her liver to warn her. Of course, she didn't care one whit if it were going to storm or not, but the warning was a sweet gesture nontheless.
Secretly, she had named them. She knew in her heart that they were both girls. Her girls. And she would teach them to fight, perhaps even to be better than their father. Wouldn't that just show him? If he were beaten by his own daughter, even Ranma Saotome would have to give up on a little chauvanism. Not that he wasn't better about that than he used to be. . .
Akane shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. Of course, in her eighth month, there was no such thing. She felt every inch of her skin, tender and oversensitive, shudering every time her skirts brushed her legs or a blde of grass flicked by her ankle. Her back hurt all the time, and every so often there would be a twinge, a contortion across her stomach that made her afraid, just for a moment.
The winter was passing, slowly receding into the distance while leaving the blustery winds behind. One such wind blew across her yard, rippling the waters in the pond. The tree was bare, skeletal almost, with branches wet from melted snow black against the grey sky.
That was when the wall fell in.
It had been so long since random destruction had stalked either her or her husband that she simply stared at the crumbled fortification for a moment. Standing in the hole was a lonely little figure, bedraggled and cold. Her clothes were just thin cotton, but she didn't shiver in the icy winds or brush her long, purple hair out of her pretty eyes. She stared at Akane across the yard with an odd glint in her eye.
A storm, it seemed, had indeed come.
-----------------------
Ranma tiptoed around the corner, peering around it before allowing too much of himself to be seen. He was trying his hardest to avoid Akane. He did love her, and he did treasure those moments when they were laying together, when he could cradle her sleeping form and the unseen children she was about the bear him. That was just it. Her sleeping form. An awake Akane, full of all the maddening hormones pregnancy can cause, was hell on earth. She caused earthquakes over the slightest tremble of her world.
He saw her before she saw him, sitting at the edge of the tea room facing the garden. She had the damn door open again, letting in the cold air. SHE, of course, insisted she was burning up while the house was actually ice cold. No wonder.
He was about to tiptoe away when he saw the expression on her face. Akane looked positively stricken. She was staring at a point in the yard, without moving or blinking.
That was probably bad.
He strode over to stand behind her, and looked out the paper doors. Ah. Of course. Standing in the ruins of their outer wall, Shampoo was staring at Akane. She looked much like Ryouga had when he first arrived in Nerima, worn and half-mad. His chest tightened with rage at the memory of what she'd done in China, and he stepped out the back door. They'd run from the Amazon vilalge because that was her territory, and the people there were her friends. This was his territory. And she was a fool for coming to find them after what she had done.
"Shampoo!" he snarled, his voice carrying clear through the brisk air. "What do you want?"
"I no. . . hurt. Look for. . "she closed her eyes breifly, and placed a hand on the edge of the ruined wall to steady herself. "husband. Must find. . ." And then she fell, face first onto the grass.
Akane and Ranma simply stared at her for a moment. After an akward pause, Akane stepped forward. She lumbered over to Shampoo's prone form and gently tapped her shoulder. When the Amazon didn't move, she flipped her over.
"She fainted!" Akane said, in wonder. Her gaze traveled to the torn cotton chirt and the ribs poking nearly throught the skin. "No wonder, she's half-starved. Ranma. . ." she turned to find her husband was already by her side. He was frowning down at the Amazon.
"I'll carry her in," he offered. He picked her up, none to gently, and carried her into the spare bedroom Happosai sometimes used. As he laid her down, Akane placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"You should stay with her. I'll go make something to eat," Akane offered, as always kind even to those who had hurt her. Ranma winced and placed his hand over hers, preventing her from leaving.
"No, you stay with her. I'll go make something to eat," he insisted. Akane rapped him lightly ont eh back of his head.
"And what if she wakes up and decides to kill me? She said she was looking for her husband. Who knows what she means by that? You stay. You can restrain her," Akane retorted, and withdrew her hand. Ranma listened to her retrating footsteps and sighed in resignation. We who are about to die and all that, right?
Shampoo, as it turned out, didn't wake up until Akane had returned, some time later, with a pot of broth, three bowls, and a plate of pork buns. Ranma helped her set down the food, but eyes it suspiciously. Thankfully, the return of Shampoo to the concious world gave him an excuse not to eat. He'd pretend to be too occupied to want food.
"Have some broth," Akane ordered, seeing Shampoo's eyelids flutter. The young Amazon sat up slowly and accepted a bowl of broth from Akane. She sipped at it thoughtfully, then downed the majority of it in one gulp. She held out her bowl for more.
"Shampoo hungry enough eat raw egg," she said, without the faintest trace of a smile. Akane debated about whether or nto to be offended for a moment, but then decided she had beeter things to occupy her thoughts.
"Why are you here?" she asked, not half as gently as Kasumi would have. Shampoo looked at her in surprise.
"I tell you already. Look for husband."
"This is MY husband," Akane said firmly, taking a proprietary hold of Ranma's hand. Shampoo snorted and turned her nose up haughtilly.
"I look for MY husband. Grandmother say Mousse go you. He here?" she asked, looking sharply at the young couple. With twin expressions of shock, they shook their heads.
"He left to go visit his mother," Ranma informed his former fiance. Shampoo closed her eyes and flopped back on her futon.
"Ai ya. All the way back to China."
--------------------
The problem with pork, Ranma reflected, was that it spoiled so damn easily. And the problem with pork buns was that they required pork. And the problem with weating prok buns was that stupid, no-good cooks like Akane could really, really screw up without even trying hard. And the problem with that was they could get food poisoning. Which was fine, really, a good puke will teach bad cooks to order take-out. But pregnant bad cooks with food poisoning are definitely an unfortunate breed. It sends them into premature labor.
He hadn't had any, of course. Thank heaven for small favors. Very, very small favors.
Or so he had found out. After carrying Akane, tiny and wretched with pains so sporadic they made her groan, across the rooftops of Nerima to the hospital he'd been informed she had food poisoning. And then, of course, there was the tiny matter of having his twins born almost a month early. Hell. Bloody, sodding, swiving hell.
Which was why, ultimately, he was stuck in this godawful waiting room, in sickening shades of light blue and powder pink (colors he was rapidly beginning to hate) waiting for his wife to just give birth already and have done with it. Six hours. Six hours already.
"Ranma-kun, please stop pacing," Kasumi said tiredly. Dr. Tofu was in the area apparently only doctors were allowed to see. Ranma had tried to follow him in, but Dr.Tofu had held him back.
"She'll be fine, Ranma." The doctor had said. Ranma had almost punched him in the nose.
"She's my wife, damnit, I have a right to see that she'd safe!" Ranma had snarled. He had no idea where those particular words came from, and didn't care.
"Believe me when I tell you that if you see this, you will never look at her the same again. You want to be out here. Trust me." And with that, the doctor was gone. And Ranma had been too much of a trusting idiot to question him. Of course, he had a point. Some ten, fourteen pounds of baby matter coming OUT of . . . perish the thought.
"Perhaps you should go get us something to eat, honey," Nodoka suggested. The whole gang was there in the damned waiting room. Even Shampoo, who was barely well ebough to walk on her own in Dr. Tofu's opinion.
Which was wonderful. They'd have an invalid int eh house, a rather sick and irritable young mother, TWO brand-new lumps of flesh, not to mention the usual crowd. Ranma wasn't at all sure he could handly this. His nerves were fraying so fast his extremities were actually going numb.
"No, I want to be here when they announce it's all over," he growled, not caring when his mother winced. He was so not in the mood for this. He wanted to hit something. Anything. Where was Kuno when you needed him?
Two hours later, Dr. Tofu emerged into the waiting room, a tired but entirely satisfied smile on his face. Ranma lit up with hope when he saw his expression. He'd tried not to worry about her. . . she was so strong but her bones WERE awfully tiny. . . but she was all right. He could see it on Dr. Tofu's face.
Dr. Tofu walked very gravely up to Ranma and solemnly shook his hand.
"Congratulations," he smiled. "Twin boys."
The room erupted into celebration all around the stunned new father, who wore and understnadably dumbfounded grin on his face. Everyone was cheering, Nodoka was practically dancing. Everyone but Shampoo. She was watching the doctor and Ranma with a deep sadness in her eyes. The only coherent thought she could form was: someday
------------------
"Akane!" Ranma sighed, closing the door behind him. She looked up at his approach, a soft, tired smile lighting up her face. She looked like hell. She looked like someone had beat the hell out of her. It didn't matter. It didn't matter one bit.
He strode over to her bed and brushed her heair, still damp from sweat, back behind her ear. Bubbling with joy and anxiety for the days ahead, he bent to kiss her intending it only to be a small reassurance of her presence. But as always, there was a moment when they touched in which he could lose himself, and this time he didn't have the control to fight it. He kissed her thoroughly, taking his time, tasting the blood on her tongue where she'd bitten her lip. At last he pulled away.
"Well, hi," Akane smiled. She shifted in her bed, and Ranma noticed for the first tiem the two tiny, sleeping forms she held, one in each arm. They were purple, and wrinkled, yawning. Hesitantly, he reached out and traced a finger down the smooth slope of one's skull.
"I don't have any names for boys," Akane said sadly. Ranma laughed, a little nervously. His sons. He was a father.
Oh, boy.
"Me either. Doesn't much matter what we call them, does it?" Ranma asked, a little surprised. Akane rolled her eyes.
"Of course it matters! Now, are you going to take one or not?" she asked crossly. Ranma looked down at the tiny bodies in her arms.
"Uh-uh. I'll break it," he said blunlty. Akane glared at him, and he gulped. "Okay, okay, how do you hold a baby?"
"Just support the head. At all times," she instructed. Gingerly, he picked upthe one in the arm closest to him. The tiny boy opened his eyes for just a second, then drifted off to sleep. His body was limp as a rag dolls, and Ranma knew he didn't weigh more than six pounds. Five, maybe.
He was tiny, with little hairs all over and no hair where there was supposed to be hair. He was tiny and perfect, with little fingernails and toenails and pudgy little limbs. His belly was round and tight as a drum, with a massively protruding navel.
Ranma felt a warm, cheerful fire burst in his belly and spread to his heart, to his lungs, and out through his mouth.
"Well, hello, there."
--------------
My brother posted a Sailor Moon fic at or something of the sort. His name is King Seth, at any rate, which is just bad. It's bad. Oh, it's bad. But he is my kid brother, and I believe he'd be pleased as punch to get even a flamer.