Disclaimer: I don't own Ranma ½.

Goro peered under the bushes by the koi pond, grimacing in frustration. How many different places could a little black piglet go?

"Excuse," someone said behind him. He rolled into a sitting position, turning baleful eyes on the intruder. She was older than he, but just how much older he couldn't be sure. Maybe a college student or something. A real babe, however old she was, with purple hair floating around her tiny waist.

"Can I. . . help you?" he asked. She grinned at him, shyly.

"Makoto?" she asked. "You much bigger than I remember, much much!" she said finally, throwing her arms around his neck. He sat frozen for a moment, unsure what to do.

"Ummmmm who . . . . who are you, miss?" he asked. She drew back and smiled radiantly at him, wiping tears from her eyes.

"You no remember me, but I knew you when you were baby. Shampoo," she said, sticking out her hand to shake his and giggling a little. "Where brother Mocchio?"

"Um, actually. . . I'm not Makoto. Or Mocchio," he added, just for clarification. "I'm Goro. The twins will be back shortly."

"Oh. Ranma and Akane have other children?" she asked, curious and completely unapologetic for mistaking him. He nodded, grinning sheepishly.

"Yeah, but I'm not one of them. Just a disciple. Who are you? An old babysitter or something?" he asked.

"Sort of," she grimaced. A tall man with long black hair and glasses stepped around the corner, followed by a small herd of purple-haired girls wearing big coke-bottle glasses, just like his.

"Shampoo? Do they still live here?" he asked, in only slightly accented Japanese. The little girls glared silently at Goro, their hands tucked into the flowing sleeves of their robes. It looked like a small circus.

"I think so. Do Ranma and Akane still live here?" she asked Goro. He nodded, mutely. She stood, and gestured in his direction. "This Goro, he study Ranma fighting techniques. Goro, this is my husband Mousse, and my daughters."

"Hey, there," Mousse said, flippantly. "Well, honey, I guess we should wait for them. Girls, go sit in the dojo, and warm up a bit. Ranma's kids might want to spar when they get home."

"Oh, fine," the biggest girl said, huffily. Goro stared at her. She looked about fourteen, she was certainly too old to belong to these people. Wasn't she? Was this some sort of trick? Neither of the so-called parents looked old enough to have kids at all.

Much less five of them.

Goro was beginning to think, Ayame or no Ayame, that it might be a good idea to find a new dojo.

"Shall we get some refreshments?" he asked, mostly because they were staring at him expectantly. They nodded, and on the way in he asked, "Out of curiosity, what are you folks here to see Ranma about?"

"Oh, nothing. Oldest daughter want to get married, but she already married. Come see what Ranma have say about it."

"Why. . . why would Ranma have anything to say about it?"

"She married to his son. Besides, is good to visit old friends, yes?"

"I bet Ucchan gives us a discount, since it's our first date. The first of many, I hope!" Makoto grinned widely at her, his face brighter and happier than she'd ever seen it.

She was going to be sick.

"Come on, Koemi, smile for me! You're so quiet," he coaxed, taking her hand. She slipped out of his grasp, clasping her hands together in front of her to prevent any further attempts at touching her. "Hey, I know a story that will make you smile. Once there was a cute little dog, with a cute little bow, and he had a cute little smile. . ."

"Hey, look, isn't that the pig you were fighting with earlier?" she asked, hoping to distract him from his vain attempts at cheering her up. She wasn't making it up, though, there he was—a little black piglet trotting along in front of them, fairly content and happy. She rushed forward and scooped it up, cradling it in her arms. The pig protested for a moment, but she fixed it with such a piercing glare that it fell silent immediately.

"Huh. I guess ol' Ryouga likes you, Koemi," Makoto said, coming up behind her. "Let's take him to Ucchan's with us and get him some hot water."

"Yeah," she muttered, walking briskly. He followed, no longer trying to talk to her. Good, because the sound of his voice was giving her a headache.

"Come on in!" Ukyou called out as they entered her shop. She saw the little pig in Koemi's arms and smiled, knowingly.

"Had a bit of an accident, did we? I'll set him right. Go on and take your lady friend to booth seven Makoto, and I'll be with you in a second. Mind the customers, too, make sure no one leaves without paying while I'm gone," she instructed, plucking Ryouga out of the tiny girl's arms and taking him into the back rooms above her shop.

She turned on the hot water in her furo, waiting until it steamed before holding Ryouga—who was now frantically wiggling to get away from her—under it.

"Holy hell, Ukyou, that was too HOT!" he growled, backing out of the stream of water and not noticing, apparently, that he was completely naked. "God, that was scary! The Kuno girl looked at me and I just KNEW she was going to start putting bows on me like Azusa used to and. . . GAH! I'm NAKED!" he cried. Ukyou giggled, then got herself under control and gave him a hard, cold stare.

"Act your age, Ryouga, it's not like I've never seen a naked man before. Keep it down or you'll freak my customers out," she admonished. He turned bright scarlet and tried to cover several key bits of his anatomy at once.

"Okay, Ukyou, I'll. . .. just. . . um . . . could you stop staring at me and go get me some clothing before I die of mortification?" he asked, curling into a little ball. She ducked her head to hide a smile and did as he requested, bringing him some of her looser men's wear.

She was feeling particularly nice, so she even left while he got dressed.

"Um, Ukyou?" he asked her, coming out of the bathroom after what seemed like eternity. She gave him the same cold, hard look, but he continued anyway. "You said you'd seen naked men before, but you'd never been married?"

"I don't see how this is any of your business," she informed him, and started down the stairs. After a few seconds, she could hear him following her, his steps heavy on the wooden steps.

I'm sorry this is so short, I really am, I would like to write more. But I'm sort of floundering in the world of writing stuff, and I don't know how to stop floundering. Call it writer's block, except I can get started just fine. . . it's continuing that I have trouble with.

I apologize, and there will be more later.