Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue

I'm sorry it took so long to post, but I thought I already had this chapter up. This is it, folks, for further adventures read the next story.

Chapter 12

All she had ever wanted, all her life, was to be a wife and a mother, and make people happy.

It wasn't much of a dream, but it was something to think about in the rare quiet moments of her life. Now the rare moments were happening all the time, and the opportunities to think simply abounded.

It was driving her mad. All her life, all she had wanted. . . . it wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough. How could she have dreamt such a simple dream and had it fail? The impossible dreams of her father came true with the marriage of Akane and Ranma, and the impossible dream of Mousse came true—sort of. If Shampoo had found him, they'd come true.

She'd never been foolish enough to dream of anything extravagant, no fairy tale romances or anything like that. . . Prince Charming only ever came for Akane.

An irrational rage filled her, and she paused. It wasn't fair, really. She could clean, she could cook, she was sweet and kind and patient. Some people even thought she was pretty. Yet, no matter how sweet she was, life just skated right past her and slammed into her baby sister. What had Akane ever done to deserve so much adoration? She was a kind-hearted girl, and honorable. She knew exactly what Ranma saw in Akane, and what Ryouga had seen in her. . . but what did everyone else see? Surely the whole world didn't want violent tomboys?

::Stop thinking evil thoughts about your sister,:: Kasumi told herself firmly. She resumed walking, only to pause again in a few steps. As always, her evening walk home had taken her by the Tofu clinic. Warm yellow light spilled from his windows onto the grey sidewalk. She wondered what he was doing in there. What he was thinking of. Who he was thinking of. If he ever, ever thought of her.

Kasumi walked on, a frown on her usually placid face. She knew very well that half the single men in Nerima would love to take her out. The problem was, they all bored her. Every last one of them made her want to snore. The only one that captured her interest—and perhaps a bit more than that—was completely oblivious to her existance. He ignored her half the time when she was standing right in front of him, babbling on with that ridiculous skeleton of his.

She didn't know, couldn't have known, that at that exact moment he was staring at the many pictures he'd taken of her, wishing . . . wishing he could just talk to her with a straight face. . .

--------------

"Wife," Ryouga tried the word out, trying to imagine himself referring to Akari like that. It sounded wooden on his lips. "Honey," he tried. Too simpering. "Darling." Yes, Darling was just right. Or maybe Dear? "Dear." Nope, too short.

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling completely naked without his bandanna. On the other hand, he would have felt rather foolish in a formal wedding outfit and a bright yellow bandanna. Besides, Akari wouldn't have like it if he showed up to their wedding feeling foolish. She was already a little bundle of nerves. That might have something to do with the pregancy, but he suspected it had more to do with the wedding.

He wasn't sure he wanted this, and he knew he didn't want it so soon. He wasn't ready to be a husband, much less a father. He ddin't even really know how he felt about Akari, it was all a muddled mess in his head. All he wanted was to run into the woods and figure it out. On the other hand, he was a man of honor. He'd answer for his actions. He woundn't run away from this, wouldn't desert her. Not now. Not after what he'd done to her.

She was as affectionate as ever, and seemed sort of happy to be getting married to him. It was what she'd wanted, after all. But sometimes he'd see her staring out into the forests, her eyes empty and unfocused. Maybe she felt the same way he did, as though she were a puppet somehow.

"Come on, Ryouga," a deep voice outside called. Ryouga winced. He'd never known Akari had so many distant relatives. The man outside was one of her many second cousins, one of many big, burly men without a neck. They'd made it quite clear the night before that if he bolted, they'd hunt him, skin him, and use his skull for a candy dish. He'd laughed at them, confident he could outrun them, if not beat them all at once. But the fact that they'd felt it nessecary to threaten him was insulting.

"Get lost, Gohan," he called back, almost snarling.

"You're the one who'll get lost if I don't walk you to the altar. Wouldn't want you wandering around on your wedding day," the voice called back. Ryouga took a deep breath and counted to ten. He was right, of course.

"Nothing ever goes the way I want it to," Ryouga whispered, opening the door so he could go face his fate.

---------------

"Nothing ever goes the way I want it too," Akane sighed, looking at the cake she'd tried to make. Cake might be too strong of a word. Maybe lump of dough would work better.

"What's that? Cookie dough?" her husband asked, coming up behind her and snaking an arm around her growing waist. She sighed and leaned back into him.

"Don't be such an idiot, Ranma," she muttered, but her voice held none of its usual anger. ::Maybe I should just admit I can't cook and give up,:: she thought, dejectedly. ::Maybe I should just . . . make RANMA cook.:: A wicked thought passed through her brain and she smiled. "Actually, I was going to make that for dinner," she continued. His grip on her tightened slightly, and she felt his battle aura flare in preparation for the fight.

Except this time, they weren't going to have a fight. At least, not one he'd notice. More of a contest of wills, and she had practically won already. ::Shampoo must have rubbed off on me, this would never have occurred to me before the twins were born.::

"Wh-what IS it?" he asked, gulping mid-word. She smiled beatifically as she turned around to face him.

"Silly, it's dough for potstickers!" she explained, throwing her arms around his neck. He raised an eyebrow at the red and brown lump in the pan, and gulped.

"A-Akane, you aren't supposed to cook those like that. . . ."

"Don't be silly, Ranma. You just go watch the boys and leave dinner to me," she said, releasing him and pushing him gently toward the door. Ranma frowned at her, then a thought passed over his face. She actually saw it, a jolt of realization.

"Oh, honey, don't be silly," he said, his voice soft. He strode back over to her and took her hand. "You've worked too hard lately, you need a break. Why don't YOU go play with the babies while I make dinner?"

It was just like she'd put the words into his mouth manually.

"If you insist," she said brightly, sailing out of the kitchen. Anything is better than perpetual failure. She'd try again. . . later.

--------------------

The months passed, time unable to give happiness any respite from its steady march. Ryouga grew to love the sight of Akari's face in the morning, the smell of her hair all around him. He grew to love the quiet moments spent just sitting together, and the tiny jumps of her flesh that came later, when the baby assaulted her from the inside.

"Mr. Hibiki, can you hear me?" a voice asked over him. The floor beneath his feet was a sick shade of yellow, tiled and then, apparently, washed with urine. Just your standard issue for a country hospital. He wondered if there was an herb garden out back.

He remembered the first time Akari had let him feel the tiny kicks and punches. A healthy baby, she'd said, smiling as she guided his hand over the hemisphere of her torso. Her eyes had been bright with exitement, seeming almost to sparkle. He loved it when she looked like that. It meant she was happy. It meant he hadn't failed her.

"Mr. Hibiki, please answer me."

These idiots, they didn't know anything. He probably knew more about doctoring than these people. He ought to have just kept her at home, let her aunt take care of her. Or someone. A midwife or something. Anything would have been better than this place, with the urine-washed floors and the glaring flourescent lights. He'd failed her. He'd promised to keep her safe, and he'd failed.

"Mr. Hibiki, if you don't answer me, I'm going to start treating you for shock. Do you hear me?"

It was all his fault. If he hadn't had any sake that night, none of this would have happened.

"I can hear you," he muttered, rising to his feet. The orderly in front of him paled a bit, taking a half step back. ::Yeah, I'd be afriad to tell me news like that too,:: Ryouga thought.

"What are you going to do?" Akari's grandfather asked. Ryouga's lips thinned as he thought it over. He thought about the ranch house, empty now. He thought about sleeping all alone in the bed he'd shared with Akari.

"Leave," he whispered. Akari's grandfather opened his mouth to protest, tears streaming down his wizened face. Ryouga cut him off with a wave of his hand, not caring if the old man was being ripped apart. It was cruel, and he knew it, but just at that moment he couldn't care about anything. He felt as if all the blood in his veins was turning to ash. "It was my wife, and it's my child."

-----------------

Ranma let the letter flutter to the floor, his hands suddenly feeling numb.

"Oh, Ryouga," he whispered, running his hand through his hair. He couldn't even begin to imagine what the lost boy was feeling. And the contents of the letter were decidedly disturbing, in more ways than one.

"Ranma? What's wrong? You look like your best friend just died," Akane asked, stepping into the room, belly first. He looked at her, unable to avoid imagining her face pale and lifeless after reading Ryouga's letter. Shuddering, he bent and handed her the wrinkled paper.

"Ranma and Akane," she began, reading it out loud. "I am writing to inform you that my daughter, Yori, and I will be imposing upon you. Akari and I got married a few months back due to her pregnancy – that scoundrel!" Akane paused to grin at her husband. Ranma just motioned her to read on. "And now that she is gone, I cannot return to. . .oh," she said, her voice suddenly very small. She looked up at Ranma, her eyes watering.

"He's coming here," Ranma said, his voice wooden. "And he's traveling with a newborn baby."

"You HAVE to go get him, Ranma, the baby will die if he wanders with her for too long," Akane said firmly. He blinked at her, his eyes involuntarily going to her protruting stomach.

"But you're due any week now!" he protested. She shook her head.

"I'll be just fine, Ranma. Would you get going?"

"I'm worried about you, idiot! How can you ask me to leave you at a time like this? What if something happens!" he shouted, glaring at her. She put her hands on her hips and glared right back.

"I'll be fine, Ranma. I've done this before, remember?"

"Read the rest of the letter, dimwit. That's how Akari died! Complications! What if something goes wrong?" he shouted, practically screaming in her face now. She took a half step back, her face grim.

"Well, then I guess I'll just hang around haunting you and making sure you don't do anything STUPID! This is more important!" she shouted back.

"NOTHING is more important!" he replied. They stood there for a moment, him glowering as a slow blush spread over Akane's cheeks. She looked at the letter in her hands, then back up at her seething husband.

"We'll ask someone else to go find him. Dr. Tofu, maybe," she suggested. He nodded, only a little tension going out of his body. She touched his cheek hesitantly, leaning in closer to him. "But you know I'll be fine," she insisted, looking into his cornflower eyes. He swallowed hard and gulped.

"I just. . . I can't leave yet, Akane. But you're right, someone does have to go after Ryouga. We'll ask the doctor, and if he can't, we'll ask our dads. We should get going, I guess," he grumbled, gruff as an old bear. She kissed him, then began to pull away only to find herself locked in a desperate embrace.

The words echoed in her head, ::Nothing is more important.::

------------------

Dr. Tofu sighed and leaned against a tree. How the hell was he supposed to find someone who didn't know his own location? Knowing Ryouga, by the time Akane and Ranma had even gotten that letter he could have been halfway to China.

"Hell, this place IS halfway to China," he muttered, glowering at the trees around him. ::Just think of it as a training trip, old boy,:: he thought to himself. ::You've gotten soft in your old age.::

"Reaaaaally soft," he muttered out loud, starting to walk again. "Maybe there's some sort of meditation training I can do to Kasumi-proof my brain."

---------------------

It was raining. Of course it was raining. It ALWAYS rains when someone arrives in Nerima. Ryouga wished, fervently, that he'd been able to get rid of his curse. As it was, he'd traveled these last few weeks entirely helpless, a baby in one hand and an umbrella in the other. He couldn't risk getting wet and being unable to take care of Yori, even if it was just a short period of time.

She didn't even look quite human yet, still sort of wrinkled and covered all over in fine white hairs. Heck, she wasn't even old enough to support her own head. He'd gone through hell because of this child, washing cloth diapers in a mountain stream while trying desperately not to get wet. Keeping track of the goat he had trailing behind him, to provide his baby with food. If only she were bigger. If only she were stronger.

If only he knew more about infants!

The long haul was almost over, though. He was almost someplace where his daughter would be safe. That was all he could ask for, now, now that he'd failed Akari.

The streets of Nerima, cold and grey in the rain, had never looked more inviting.

-------------------

"You know, I've been thinking," Akane said, slowly. She was sitting on the floor of the tea room, watching Ranma struggle with making rice balls and feeding her baby girl. Ayame. The name just seemed to roll off her lips. It was a flower's name, a flower that represented purity, and strength. The twins were playing on the floor nearby, trying to determine who could stack little wooden blocks the highest. So far, Makoto was winning, but Mocchio was getting mad enough to knock down his brother's attempts out of spite.

"We might try recruiting at the universities. You know, for the dojo classes?" Akane suggested. Ranma grunted, preoccupied with his cooking.

"The students might be interested in it as a fitness sort of thing, if nothing else. . ." she conintued. A loud knock on the door startled her out of finishing her sentence. Her eyes met Ranma's for just a moment, before he sighed and put down the rice ball he was making.

"I'll get it," he muttered, walking out of the tea room. He padded down the hallway in his bare feet. Three years ago, he would have had to assume it was some sort of delivery man, or a kid selling stuff door to door. Back then, he hadn't known anyone who actually used doors. Now, it could be anyone. One of Akane's friends from work, one of Kasumi's friends from the University. It used to be that everyone in Nerima focused on him, his life, his problems, because his life was a series of explosions and poison epidemics. But no longer. Now it was like the world had forgotten he existed.

Thank goodness.

He opened the door, and felt the words of welcome freeze on his lips.

Ryouga stood just outside the doorway, holding a baby in one hand and an umbrella in the other. He looked haggard, his eyes were sunken back into his head. He was scrawnier than Ranma remembered him. But the baby was fine, she was waving her tiny little fists and making insistant noises at her father.

Was that a goat behind them?

"I guess this is still the only place on Earth I can find," Ryouga said, gruffly.

"Ryouga. . ." Ranma cast about in his head for something to say. What do you say to a man who's lost his wife? What do you say to a friend you haven't seen in years? What do you say to the hungry man standing outside your door?

That one he knew.

"Come in, come in. Here, I'll take the baby. We'll get her a warm bath," Ranma said, taking the little bundle of flesh from Ryouga's arms. The lost boy smiled a wry smile, and shooed the goat out into the yard before following Ranma into the house. "I'm just working on dinner now. It should be ready soon, but there's probably something in the fridge. We'll see, eh?"

"You do the cooking?" Ryouga asked. Ranma looked at him as if he'd lost his mind.

"You don't think I'd let her do it, do you?" he said. Ryouga laughed, a small laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. It was unnerving, to insult Akane in front of him and just hear him. . . laugh.

"Akane! Ryouga made it!" Ranma cried out. Akane came out of the tea room, holding Ayame in her arms. Her face lit up when she saw the lost boy and she gave him a warm one-armed hug.

"We were so worried about you! We even sent out Dr. Tofu looking for you," she smiled. Ryouga blinked at her, a light pink blush spreading across his cheeks.

"R-really?" he stammered. Akane nodded, then caught sight of the baby Ranma was holding.

"Is this your daughter?" she asked. Ryouga cleared his throat and nodded.

"Her name is Yori," he announced.

"She's beautiful, Ryouga! And I bet she's cold, too," Akane grinned, taking Yori from Ranma. "This one's ours, her name's Ayame. There are two more in the tea room." She rolled her eyes. "Absolute terrors. You two get something to eat, I'll go give the girls a bath," she said. Then she was gone, cooing to the two babies on her hips. Ranma noticed Ryouga watching her steps, and cleared his throat.

"Come on, man, food in the kitchen, right?" he said. Ryouga nodded, dumbly, and followed Ranma into the kitchen. "She hasn't changed much, has she?" Ranma asked, trying to break up the silence.

"Motherhood agrees with her," Ryouga said, quietly. He gazed at Ranma with hooded eyes. "You're lucky, Saotome."

Three years ago, he would have denied that.

"Yeah. Yeah I am. Here, there's . . . green stuff Akane made last week, let's throw that away. We have some takoyaki, and some sobe noodles. What are you in the mood for?"

By the time Akane came back with the baby girls, the twins were all over Ryouga, tugging at his hair and clothes. He wrestled gently with them on the floor, laughing as they tried to punch him with their little chubby fists. Akane's heart softened to see him watching his strength like that. Akari must have softened him. . .

"Hey, there, Ryouga," she said, and he looked up at her, grabbing both boys around the waist and holding them still. "Yori's all clean and warm and fed. I was going to put her to sleep, but. . ."

"I'll do it," Ryouga said. He stood and put the twins on the ground, ignoring them when they attatched themselves to his ankles. He took his daughter from Akane, and Ranma watched from the opposite doorway as his one time rival's eyes lingered on the face of his wife.

This could be a problem. Not for him, for Ryouga. He'd really hate to have to beat the lost boy up again. On the other hand, it would be just like old times.

"There's a rocking chair in one of the upstairs bedrooms. It's where I put your stuff," Ranma interjected. Ryouga looked up at him, and a grateful smile creased his face.

"Thanks. Could you. . . ah. . . show me which one?" he asked. Akane giggled, and Ayame giggled with her. She watched as Ranma led Ryouga by the sleeve up the stairs, both of them ignoring the toddlers that had wrapped themselves around Ryouga's calves.

So much had changed.

The rain continued to fall, all over those who were lost, and those who were lonely, and those who did not begin to understand themselves. It fell over Ukyou's empty shop, where she determinedly made okonomiyaki after okonomiyaki, trying to improve her recipe. It fell over the Kuno estate, where madness was currently perpetuating itself though a sibling rivalry that involved more automatic weaponry than most wars. It beat against the window of a coffee shop, where Kasumi Tendo sat wondering just what she was supposed to do now. It fell over the Tendo Dojo, a place where loss and chaos had reigned for more than ten years. When the storm broke, the first ray of light that burst through the clouds floated down through the window of the bedroom where the lost boy sat holding his daughter, dreaming of futures forgotten and pasts incomplete.