Disclaimer: Some of these characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi—Ranma, Akane, Ukyou, Ryouga, Akari, Genma, Kasumi, Sasuke, and the Kunos. There may be a few others sprinkled throughout. The rest, the younger generation, are mine.

Two quick notes. First, this is the story I originally wanted to write with my other fanfic, but I wanted to write it sooner than I wanted to bring the story to this point. I'm lazy, you see. Since this is the same story, all rules that are going to be in the other story apply. Cologne will give Ranma water from the Spring of Drowned Man, and he'll get to use it. Unfortunately for him, that just means a reversal of the curse, so that he turns into a girl with hot water and a boy with cold water. The souls of Jusenkyo don't let people off that easy. Ranma's pretty happy with it, though. Secondly, Ayame means Iris. She isn't named that because it's similar to Akane, I promise.

This gives me such joy. . . it's like finding a cheap katana in a hardware store. . .I apologize for the end of the chapter. I felt it nessecary.

Chapter 3

"Come on in!" Ukyou called. She was in between the lunch crowd and the dinner crowd, with only two starry-eyed teens in her shop. She slung their okonomiyaki onto their plates with vengeance. She felt trapped. She was caught in a cosmic loop, doomed to do the same blasted thing every blasted day. Wake up, cook okonomiyaki, watch stupid teenagers have stupid romances. She'd been doing the very same thing every day since she graduated high school.

She was going to scream.

"Hey, Ukyou. I'm sort of surprised you're still here," a voice came from the doorway. She looked up in surprise, her eyes finding the dark brown eyes of Ryouga. Her mouth dropped in shock as he walked over to her counter and sat down. He surveyed the area around him. "Place hasn't changed much," he noted.

"You have," Ukyou said bluntly. He laughed at her, revealing the fangs which she supposed he would never outgrow. He'd outgrown his clothes, apparently. Instead of the bright yellow she was used to seeing him in, he wore all black, as if he was in mourning. He'd even got rid of his yellow bandanna, and wore his hair long and loose. He looked so much like an adult it frightened her.

"Well, I ought to have changed in the last twenty years!" he said. He leaned on her counter. She blinked at him, seeing in the broken man the unstable youth she'd once known. It was uncanny.

"Tell you what, in honor of your return to Nerima, I'll give you one on the house," she smiled to cover the akwardness, and began to mix it together. "Will you be staying long?"

"Yeah, probably forever. Now that I'm back, I don't think I'll ever find my way out again. My feet keep tracing familiar paths, to the dojo, to here, to Furinkan High. Did you know Ranma's kids go there? I feel like we're all stuck in some time loop," he admitted, watching his okonomiyaki frying. The thought so cleanly mirrored her own that she let her hand fall to the hot surface.

"Oh! Careful!" Ryouga shouted as she snatched her hand up. "Are you okay, Ukyou?" he asked. She nodded, cursing herself. She had to get to a different topic of conversation, If he kept saying her thoughts out loud like that, she was going to have to toss him out on his ear.

"I heard you married Akari," she said softly. He looked up, startled, then looked away.

"Yeah, it was sort of a shotgun wedding. You know, we didn't mean for anything to happen but one night things got out of hand and the next thing I knew she was pregnant and I was standing at this altar saying these words. . ." he dismissed it with a wave of his hand, as if it were all nothing. Ukyou admired that. She had some experience in belittling tragedy. "She died giving birth to Yori. Yori's just like me, you know, big. She's always been big, and Akari was just so little . . ." he trailed off. So the rumors were true. Exactly true, in fact. She could have cried, she'd hoped Ryouga's story wasn't nearly so sad. Instead, she flipped his okonomiyaki onto his plate.

"Eat up," she said, without enthusiasm.

"Thanks," he replied, but he didn't so much as touch it. He wouldn't meet her eyes either. She cleared her throat, trying to find another topic. She'd messed up with the last one, so maybe. . .

"Did you ever get married, Ukyou?" he asked, meeting her eyes with a small smile. She blinked at him. So, he'd decided to come up with a new topic himself.

"No, I never found anyone I wanted to marry," she answered quietly. Ryouga stared at her.

"Really? A woman like you, never married?" he asked, then, as if realizing what he'd just said, he blushed and started shoving food in his mouth. She folded her arms and watched him.

"And just what sort of woman am I?" she asked, her eyebrows raised. Ryouga gulped his food. Some things never change, and he had a sneaking suspician Ukyou's spatula was one of them. He laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head.

"I ..... ah, you. . . I mean, all those guys at your school. . ." he stammered. He was saved from having to form a coherant answer by Makoto's hectic entrance.

"Ucchan! You'll never guess what happens today!" he cried exitedly. Ukyou watched him with the feeling that she was waking from a long dream. There they were in her shop, an old Ryouga and a young copy of Ranma. And what was she? Was she an old woman yet, or did she look the same?

"You're right, I never will guess," she replied drolly. "You'll just have to tell me," she announced. Makoto sat down in front of her counter, smiling ear to ear.

"Today I'm taking Koemi Kuno on a date!" he announced proudly. Ryouga looked at Ukyou, eyebrows raised.

"Kuno?" he asked, as if the young man weren't there. She nodded, trying to force her shoulders to relax.

"Really, she's much more sane than either her father or her aunt," Ukyou replied. Ryouga tried to wrap his mind around the concept, but couldn't.

"But who would marry Kuno?" he asked, his tone incredulous. His mouth worked itself up into a sneer. Ukyou smiled then, an amused smirk.

"You remember Azusa Shiratori," she said quietly. Ryouga fell off his chair and began to twitch on the ground.

"Would you two stop talking like I don't exist? Ucchan!" Makoto protested. Before Ukyou could answer him, Ryouga hauled himself up from the floor to gape at Makoto, which confused the boy immensely.

"What're you lookin' at?" he asked, taking a step back.

"You WANT to date the offspring of Tatewaki Kuno and Azusa Shiratori?" Ryouga cried, still not beleiving. Makoto, feeling he had in some way just been deeply insulted, leapt to his feet before dropping right back down into a fighting stance.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked defiantly. Ryouga sat down in his stool again, ignoring the implied challenge.

"Ukyou, is this kid serious?" he asked. Makoto growled and lunged at him, finally fed up with being ignored. Without even turning his head, Ryouga raised his hand and hit Makoto in the chest as he lunged. Makoto went flying out of the shop.

"The Kuno girl really isn't so bad, Ryouga. She's a terribly abused little thing," Ukyou sighed, leaning on her countertop.

"Well, I would think so," he mused.

"HIBIKI-SAN!" Makoto yelled from the doorway. He stood there, his battle aura flaming aroung him, as Ukyou and Ryouga watched with faint amusement on their faces.

"Just like his dad," Ryouga noted, standing up.

"He has his days," Ukyou admitted, "Would you take this outside? If you wreck my shop, I'll cut you in half," she promised, her tone light. Ryouga eyed her giant spatula and sighed. He was home. For better or worse, he was home.

"Come on, kid, let's go see what your father taught you," he suggested, a familiar gleam coming to his eyes. For one moment, he looked like the sixteen-year old she'd known. He looked like. . . like P-chan. Ukyou considered splashing him with cold water, just to see Makoto's reaction, but decided against it. After all, the boy might one day have Ryouga as a father-in-law. It would be good to pound out all their differences beforehand.

__________----------------_________

"Well, well, the beast can wear normal clothes after all!" Mochio called after his sister and Yori. Yori's back stiffened, and he felt a shiver of satisfaction run all down his spine. She didn't turn and face him, though. He really wanted her to. He really wanted her to turn around and fight with him, so he could lose himself in his temper. Violence was all he had at the moment, his only means of escape.

"You did a good job, Ayame, training your puppy to walk on two legs. You even shaved it and dressed it up!" he called out. His sister turned to him, her face a mask of rage. He wasn't interested in her, though. His eyes stayed on Yori as she turned, slowly, and said something to Ayame. Ayame sat back on her hunches while Yori ran back to him, her face bright red and tears glistening in her eyes.

__________-----------------_________

"What have you done to Makoto?" Dr. Tofu asked, eyeing the twitching, contorted boy Ayame was dragging into his office. She had him by the foot, and was pulling him along on the ground, letting his head hit every obstacle. Dr. Tofu sighed. The Saotomes would never, ever change. It seemed like only yesterday he'd been. . .

"Oh, hello. Who're you?" he asked the young girl following Ayame. She was also watching the siblings, a smug look on her face. Her hair was falling down around her face, lovely thick, dark hair coming out of a ruined bun at the back of her head. She had enviable skin, too, and if she wasn't the petite sort of woman who usually got mixed up with the Saotomes, that was just as well. She turned to him, her head held high. He realized with a jolt that she was almost his height.

"I'm Yori Hibiki, and that idiotic excuse for a martial artist," she gestured towards the boy Ayame was dragging, "is Mochio, not Makoto." Dr. Tofu stared at her for a moment, then smiled.

"You're Ryouga's daughter, then? Wonderful. I suppose you know what happened to the young man?" he asked. She blushed slightly, but didn't lower her head. She acted like a boy. Dr. Tofu wondered for a moment if she shared Ranma's curse, but decided she was too young to have been cursed at Jusenkyo.

"I happened to him," she admitted, without excuses or qualifications. "My father and Ranma Saotome have arranged a marriage between myself and either that idiot or his twin, and none of us are terribly happy about it," she explained. Dr. Tofu frowned, trying to remember if Kasumi had mentioned any arranged marriages. He didn't think so, but then he found it terribly difficult to focus on what she was saying when he was watching her.

"That's odd, my wife didn't mention anything of the sort," he mused.

"Your wife knows the Saotomes?" Yori asked. Ayame hadn't said anything about a personal connection.

"I should think so, Akane Saotome is her sister," he replied. Yori's jaw dropped in shock. Was everyone in Nerima connected to these people? Or was there just a tight little circle of them, which none of them ever moved out of?

Seeing her expression, Dr. Tofu began to laugh. It is entirely possible that, since his wedding, Dr. Tofu has laughed, smiled, and cried for joy more than any other human being on the planet. It's entirely possible that he's the happiest man alive.

"Tofu-Sensei! Are you going to help Mochio or not?" Ayame called from the back room she'd dragged Mochio into. Tofu blinked, his mind clearing of his wife and children and returning to work. Even in her absence, now, Kasumi distracted him.

"I'll be right there," he replied, and Ayame walked out, her hands on her hips. Before his niece said anything, he cut her off with, "Why don't you go visit your aunt? I'm sure she'd hate to be kept in the dark about Yori and the twins."

That settled it. Before she quite knew what was going on, Yori was dragged out of the doctor's office and was running behind Ayame. They slowed to a walk in the neighborhood a few streets over from the doctor's office.

"You didn't say your aunt was married to Dr. Tofu," Yori said accusinly. Ayame shrugged.

"Must have slipped my mind. They're absolutely insane, you know, and madly in love," she announced. Yori stared at her, amazed at this unexpected romantic bent.

"How can you tell?" she asked, wondering how her friend would quantify something like love. Ayame paused in front of the door she'd led Yori to, a light blue door on a little white house.

"Let me put it this way. They've been married five years, and they have five children, with one on the way," she grinned evilly. Yori gaped at her as she knocked on the blue door.

"Aunt Kasumi!" she called. The blue door opened, but instead of a pregnant woman a young girl answered the door. She couldn't have been more than four, she was all round baby fat and brown curls. She screamed with delight when she saw Ayame, and launched herself at her cousin.

"Ayame, Ayame!" she screamed, her voice high enough to make the glass in the windows rattle. Ayame simply smiled at her and picked her up.

"Hey, Haru-chan. Where's your mommy?" Ayame asked the little girl. Haru pointed into the brightly lit house, and Ayame stepped inside, still carrying the child. After a moment, Yori followed. She hadn't been invited in, but if she tried to go home on her own she'd never find the dojo.

"Ayame? Akina, go see if that's Ayame," a woman said softly. A little girl just like Haru, only slightly taller, ran out of the sliding paper kitchen door, which was to the direct left of them. Akina threw herself at her aunt, just like Haru had, but without the screaming. Yori wondered if that would happen with each child, five little torpedos headed for Ayame's legs.

"It's me, Aunt Kasumi. I brought a visitor," Ayame called out. Akina slid the door open for her, and Ayame led Yori into a huge kitchen. The cabinets were light blue, the floor was a sunny yellow, the curtains on the small window over the sink were a filly white, and everything was immaculately clean. It was only the third kitchen Yori'd ever seen in her life, since she'd been on the road so much, and she was impressed.

By one of the light blue counters, a woman turned and went to hug Ayame. She ignored completely the toddler drooling on her leg, and the round bulge of her belly between herself and her neice. Yori's first impression faded into a sort of horror when she surveyed the kitchen. She'd never seen such absolute pandemonium, the toddler and a three-year-old were fighting over their mother's legs, an infant on a blanket in the corner was kicking the walls and making very, very loud happy gurgling noises. Haru and Akina were fighting over Ayame, and the two women just stood and smiled beatific smiles at each other. They must be mad.

"Aunt Kasumi, this is Yori Hibiki," Ayame explained, and Yori smiled akwardly. The pregnant brunnette smiled back at her, a sweet blank smile.

"You must be Ryouga's daughter, then. What brings you into town?" she asked, her voice low and sweet. Yori was amazed she could hear it over the children.

"Well, to be quite honest, my father dragged me here. He made a deal with Mr. Saotome when we were all little, and he brought me back here to fulfill his promise," she explained slowly.

"What sort of promise did the boys make?" Kasumi asked, still smiling that blank smile. Yori blinked at her for a moment before she realized which "boys" Kasumi meant.

"I'm supposed to marry one of the twins," she said quietly. Kasumi's jaw dropped in shock, and her pale hand rose to cover her mouth.

"They didn't," she whispered. Yori nodded gravely, glad someone finally understood the gravity of the situation. Kasumi blinked thoughfully, and took her hadn down from her face, "On the other hand, it does sort of make sense," she said slowly. Yori gaped at her. So much for sympathy. . .

"What. Sort. Of. Sense. Does. This. Make?" she said, very slowly, saying each word clearly, relying on emphasis rather than volume to get her feeling across. This woman had seemed to understand . . .

"Well, his marriage to Akane was arranged, but they turned out just fine. The boys were around so many arranged marriages when they were teenagers, I'd be surprised if they had any concept of a normal relationship," she replied sagely, prying Haru off Ayame as she talked. Yori could only shake her head in confusion.

"What are you talking about? The only arranged marriage I know of was Ayame's parents! My dad was never involved in that stuff," Yori protested.

"Of course he was, Yori. Your father was in love with Akane. And as for the arranged marriages, there were at least two others. It depends how you count them, really," she said absently. She turned to Ayame, who was sharing a look of surprise with Yori. "Ayame, will you help me cut the vegetables?"

"Oh, sure," Ayame said quickly. She walked to the counter, a little stiffly due to the little girl attached to her leg, and picked up a knife. "Tell us about the arranged marriages. Why hasn't anyone mentioned them before?"

"Why discuss the past?" Kasumi said sweetly. She rolled her eyes upward, as if trying to remember. Apparently, it was a rhetorical question, because she promptly began to discuss that very thing. "Let's see. There was Shampoo, a Chinese girl Ranma met when he was training over there. She was bound by her tribal laws to marry Ranma, but I wouldn't call that an arranged marriage."

"What did my dad do to that girl to invoke such a law?" Ayame interrupted, almost afriad to ask but much, much more afraid of what her imagination provided.

"Oh, he beat her in a fight. Amazon women are bound by law to marry men who can defeat them," Kasumi said lightly, as if discussing eggs and celery. "Then there was Kodachi Kuno, and that wasn't an arranged marriage, it was more of a contract she'd decided had to be fulfilled, entirely her own idea," Kasumi continued. "There were several arranged marriages, though, that Grandfather Panda made while Ranma was a baby. They caused a few problems, but eventually all of them went away except Ukyou Kuonji," Kasumi sighed, chopping her carrots into minutely thin slices. Ayame had stopped cutting altogether, and was staring at her aunt.

"I know that woman," she said quietly. Kasumi nodded.

"Oh, yes. Very sweet girl, very loyal. Ayame dear, are you going to chop those potatos?" she asked. Ayame began to cut again, her knife more violent than precise.

"What was my father, some sort of playboy?" she asked, her eyebrow twitching slightly. Kasumi laughed at her.

"Of course not. He never so much as kissed anyone other than your mother, that I know of. Well," Kasumi trailed off into a memory, "Shampoo, maybe, but. . . Anyway, it isn't important. Your mother had her own trail of suitors," Kasumi smiled. She turned around to shine that smile at Yori.

"Would you start mixing the batter over by the oven?" she asked. Yori took a deep breath and looked into that sweet face, wondering . . .

"What was my dad like, back then? Back when he was my age?" she asked. "And. . . did you know my mother?" she said quietly.

"Of course I did, though I didn't know her well. She was a very genuine young woman, very much in love with your father. And your father. . . he was a bit unstable, but his heart was always in the right place. He never did anything, it seems, except fight your father," she said quietly. Yori turned away from her. "Now, dear, would you please help me with the batter?"

"Sure," Yori mumbled. With the very first twist of the spoon, she managed to send all the contents of the bowl flying into every cranny of the kitchen—all over the toddlers, the baby, the girls, and the two women with their beatific smiles.