A/N: HEY! (: Exams are overrrrrr and I am. HIGH. As it is very apparent. Mwahahahaha. I do believe I will flunk my papers very badly however. Anyway, thank you for the reviews, and the wonderful comments! You don't know how very happy they made me! Hurhur.
ChelseaBurger22: Firstly, glad you like the story! (: Okay, actually 'learnt' does exist. 'Learned' is the American English version, 'learnt' is the British English version of past tense for 'learn'. I use the British English version, since it's what the education system in Singapore uses anyway. Err, except for the times when I type 'color' and 'neighbor' and Word automatically changes it to American Eng. Hope that clears things up! (:
Mellow
Chapter 4
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more, day by day,
You tell me of our future that you plann'd:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be too late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
Avestige of the thoughts I once had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
-Christine Rossetti (1830-1894)
The next day passed. Kasumi flitted around the house in a dazed stupor, doing housework with an almost obsessive compulsion. Tofu stayed home, and when he wasn't helping Nabiki organize the funeral, he was carefully guiding Kasumi around, his grip on her firm yet gentle. Nabiki threw herself into organizing the funeral, liaising with the undertaker, negotiating the prices, and settling the details. Half the time she walked around, jabbing incessantly at a calculator and making phone calls, and the other half of the time and scowled and frowned. As the day wore on she grew increasingly irritable. Obviously this was Nabiki's way of relieving stress and grief.
Ranma... well Ranma did his katas. Helped out in the housework. Helped out in the funeral. Ate. Stayed in the room. Talked to Tofu. And of course, he studiously avoided Akane. Not that he needed to put in much effort anyway, judging by the numerous times Akane pointedly refused to acknowledge his presence in the house. Akane had rediscovered her love for punching dummies, and been rather enthusiastic in indulging herself.
And then night came. They had dinner, a quiet simple affair, broken only by the wail of a stray cat. To which Akane sniffed and promptly retrieved the starving abandoned gray cat from outside, before proceeding to carry it into the house to feed it scraps from the dining table.
"You don't mind, do you, Kasumi-chan?" she had asked sweetly, patting the cat. "After all, no one in this house is scared of cats."
Nabiki noted with much amusement that Ranma had turned rather... pale and begun sweating, his grip on his chopsticks becoming uncharacteristically tight. He had also excused himself rather quickly soon after that. She had to commend him however, when he had been younger she was sure he was have ran away screaming the moment the cat was brought into the house.
Ranma avoided Akane even more that night. He locked himself into his room, and frankly, no one blamed him, what with the cat attaching itself to Akane and all. She always did have some sort of deep love for animals. Kasumi smiled and went off to bed, Tofu following close behind, and privately Akane wondered if Kasumi needed some help, being so pale. Nabiki nodded goodnight briefly and disappeared into her room, although her light stayed on for quite some time past midnight. Akane sighed and retreated to her room with the cat in her arms. Minutes later, she left the house dressed warmly and released the cat out into the alley, knowing that it probably wouldn't have liked staying with her anyway.
And the night passed. At first it didn't seem like it would pass, and Akane spent a long time tossing and turning. Yet, somehow when she closed her eyes for a brief second and opened them once more, it was morning already.
She felt like shit. She was quite sure she looked like shit too.
Crawling out of bed, the dark-haired woman stumbled her way to the bathroom. Yet just as she was about to push open the door, it swung open, and Ranma stepped out, clad in a black Chinese silk shirt. She started at the sight of him, before frowning and pointedly looking away.
"Where's the cat?" His question was simple and with no motive behind it.
She slumped mildly. "I set it free."
"Hn."
She entered the bathroom, and shut the door quietly, before stripping to take a quick shower. The room was still steamy and wet with the last hot shower.
-
Kasumi looked around, her hands twisting in her lap.
Funny, wasn't it? How her bad habits came back at the strangest of times. She thought she had gotten over this twisting of hands thing when she was eleven. When she was young, the first thing she would do with confronted with unpleasant happenings was to twist her hands tightly in her lap and peek out beneath lidded eyes anxiously. Gradually it wore off, but here she was, seated in a cemetery where her father was to be buried, twisting her hands like... like the world was coming to an end or something.
"Kasumi?" She cocked her head slightly, smiling a small brief smile as she watched Akane take a seat next to her. Pretty sweet young Akane... almost wistfully, she reached up and stroked the younger woman's hair. She looked just like their mother, and the resemblance just seemed to become stronger with each passing year.
Akane leant down, her head resting on Kasumi's shoulder. "Kasumi-neechan, it's almost time..." she murmured, her voice barely audible.
Kasumi let her eyes drift shut. Akane didn't need to finish the sentence. Letting her eyes flutter open, she looked down into her lap, picking up the tiny white snowflakes that she had sewn into the simple black dress she wore. She had always liked sewing very much, Kasumi did. Learnt it when she was young from her mother, and she stayed up many a night practicing her running stitch, her cross stitch, her back stitch... She recalled sewing up her sisters' torn clothes and uniforms, her neighbors' torn aprons, Ranma and Mr. Saotome's many torn clothes, exchanging sewing tips with Auntie Saotome, lovingly mending her father's torn hakama...
She stopped then, and forced herself not to think.
Kasumi bent her head slightly, and closed her eyes. She had left the funeral arrangements up to Nabiki and Tofu, but had made sure that Soun was buried in his favorite hakama. They had contemplated dressing him a brand new hakama, but she had objected, asking for her father to be dressed in the deep green hakama he had loved and worn.
"It will be good if Father is comfortable," she had said quietly, in a voice full of steel and pleading at the same time.
They agreed.
Akane wandered off sometime in her thoughts, and Kasumi paused in her thinking mildly. The sky was a pale gray she noted, and the wind stirred restlessly around them.
"Kasumi?"
Turning around slightly, she raised up a brief smile to her husband of four years, sadly noting how dark circles had formed around his eyes. Their marriage had been a quiet simple one, lovingly planned and savored. They had been so shy, so oblivious... but somehow something had blossomed and Kasumi was thankful. Once Tofu got over his flustering little habit of dancing with Betty around her, he had turned out to be wonderfully perceptive, and she was silently glad that he was always around to calm her and support her even if she did not show outwards signs of unhappiness.
Like the day Soun had died. And the days after that, when Tofu had hung around worriedly, paying much attention to her, and helping to plan the funeral.
"Kasumi, are you feeling okay?" he asked. She nodded in reply, the action practiced and calm, even though something inside yanked and began a treacherous downward descent. Tofu seemed to notice, because he sat down beside her and carefully allowed her to rest slightly against him.
"When you feel like crying, koi, let me know."
He had said that to her last night, and she had realized, with mild surprise, that she hadn't cried in the past few days. Fallen into a stupor, yes. Cleaned the house incessantly, yes. Walked around like a wreck, yes. Suffered insomnia, yes.
But Kasumi hadn't cried.
She had smiled then, a truly grateful smile and promised her husband she would do so. They turned in for the night, his body spooning hers comfortingly as she drifted off into a light restless sleep.
Oh, Kasumi thought. How her sisters would react if they knew of their big sister Kasumi abruptly becoming so weak and in need of help and comfort. How they would react if they ever saw Tofu and her sharing a tender moment. Much as her sisters regarded her marriage as 'cute', and 'meant for each other', she sometimes wondered if people took them seriously.
She did not know how to explain it.
But it did not matter. Kasumi slowly let her heavy head fall onto Tofu's shoulder.
She had someone to lean on. That was good, she thought.
-
At about 3 in the afternoon, Tendou Soun was laid to rest finally, next to the grave of his departed wife. He was buried in his favorite gi and hakama, in a beautifully carved polished mahogany casket. He looked peaceful, more peaceful than anyone had ever seen him, as he lay silently in the coffin, hair streaked with gray and wrinkles on his skin.
They were not a religious family, but they held a simple service for him. The roses were scattered onto the coffin, the soft velvety petals a stark contrast to the hard wood and coarse soil. One by one, they each scattered a handful of soil over the grave, watching without words as the deep brown trickled and ebbed and scattered from their hands.
People turned up for the funeral. Many people, from all walks of life. Local policemen, shopkeepers, old family friends, young maids working at nearby restaurants, neighbors... It surprised them, that Soun had managed to make so many acquaintances without them knowing. It made them wonder, and smile sadly as some ventured forward to tell bittersweet tales of how Soun tried his best to save the town from the mysterious panty-thief. How he would talk so happily and fondly about uniting the schools to the grocery shopkeeper as he bought some sake.
But it was over. The casket was buried, and all that was left of Soun Tendou was a grave, marked with a white tombstone and the soft memories that stirred restlessly in the wind.
The skies, full of their own grief, burst. A dreary cold rain had started, pelting down mournfully. One by one, the mourners left.
First it was friends. Then it was family.
Kasumi, shaken and grief-stricken, had begun to cry the moment soil was heaped unto the coffin. Silent, pitiful, rasping sobs that shook her completely and made her look like a small lost child. Tofu had come then, and led her away with the caring touch of a husband and doctor, and they had retreated into Tofu's car, Kasumi still weeping and sobbing uncontrollably.
Akane did not cry. The rain had poured down without warning, but she stood there, some distance from the graves of her parents. She had looked at the graves, eyes full of beseeching and anguish and questioning, and her low lip trembled violently. But she did not cry.
Then her knees gave out and Akane toppled in a crumpled heap, still staring dully at the tombstones. It had taken much effort to get Akane out of the rain and into Tofu's car, but it was done all the same. Akane, apparently stuck in her own world, did not seem to notice that it was Ranma who had finally picked her up and carted her off.
That left Nabiki.
The young woman sent a sweeping glance around the graveyard, noting the lack of people. Her family was waiting in the car, waiting for her to join them. The rest of the mourners had long gone, chased away by the strong harsh rain.
That meant she was alone.
Unmindful of the heavy rain, Nabiki raised her face and allowed herself to cry.
-
Night had long fallen. The house was quiet, except for Akane making her way to the Doujou. She walked on unwaveringly, feeling as though she were in some sort of daze. It was quiet; too quiet. It felt wrong. Still, undeterred, the young woman carefully maneuvered herself into the training hall, hands skimming briefly over the walls in her search for the light switch she knew was there.
Dinner had been a silent affair. Actually, all that happened was Nabiki tossing packets of instant ramen at her. "Dinner's ramen tonight," her sister had said flatly. "Kasumi isn't feeling up to cooking. I'm not going to order take-out, so deal with it."
Akane had picked up the packet of instant ramen and looked at it dully. She stared at it. And stared.
She dropped it back onto the table half-heartedly. She wasn't feeling hungry anyway.
Nabiki did not eat that night. She retreated to bed at an astonishingly early hour. Kasumi hadn't left her room all afternoon.
Light flooded the training hall, and Akane stepped back involuntarily with a small gasp. She hadn't felt the light switch...
"Looking for this?" she looked up at Ranma, whose finger was currently tapping lightly on the light switch.
Akane felt an uncanny sense of déjà vu over this...
"Why are you here?" Her voice was quiet, and somehow she felt an unexplainable rush of anger clouding over her senses.
"Mediating," Ranma replied. Walking over to a corner of the training hall, he settled into the lotus position and shut his eyes, leaving Akane to watch silently after him. She struggled briefly with herself then, before her eyes narrowed and hardened, and she stalked over to Ranma with a fierce determination.
"Ranma."
"What?" he answered, eyes still closed.
"Spar with me." For a second, Ranma looked almost surprised, and she privately wondered if she had gone insane. Much as Akane had improved over the years, she had no doubt that Ranma was still much stronger and more powerful than she could ever hope to be. Judging by his physique, she was certain he worked out regularly, and still practiced the Art with the diligence she had been so familiar with. Besides, he hadn't wanted to fight girls before; what made her so sure he would fight her now?
But he did not back down. He looked at her then, and got to his feet, flexing his muscles experimentally. "Fine," Ranma told her.
She didn't know if she wanted to laugh in triumph or to cry in bitterness. She did neither, instead choosing to take up a defensive stance.
They bowed. Then, without waiting, Akane launched the fight with a sharp kick at Ranma's head. He dodged easily, body slipping past like water. She said nothing, choosing instead to unleash a flurry of punches. Still he dodged, and Akane's eyes hardened.
"Fight me!" she snapped.
It was the same thing she would say to him, every single time she asked him to spar with her. It would start, a playful pastime and she would yell at him angrily to return her punches. But he was good; too good for her, and all he did was dance around her lightly, eyes twinkling in mirth and occasionally dropping one or two insults to push her further.
But now he said nothing. He still danced around, his movements as fluid as water, but he said nothing and she attacked mercilessly.
She couldn't have this right now. She needed to hear his familiar taunts, his biting insults, and she needed to release this tight ball of anger that curled into itself and flushed her horribly. She needed to hit something, to push out the rage and the anger, to force out her questions and her hurt.
But he wouldn't let her.
Akane could very well have begun to cry. She swung out angrily, the movement a calculated yet heated one, but Ranma foresaw it easily, and raised an arm, blocking her.
"So, Ranma..." Akane spoke suddenly, her voice deceptively light and casual. "How does it feel, coming back to Nerima after all this time?" She watched as he stiffened suddenly, and inwardly she felt a struggle. Contempt for making him feel uncomfortable, but disgust at herself for resorting to such measures. "Well, Ranma? Nerima has a welcoming feel, doesn't it? Everyone loved you so much you know..."
His eyes, the beautiful shade of steel blue that she had loved so much, hardened. She froze, knowing she had stepped over the line. Abruptly his leg shot out, sweeping her off the ground in one smooth cold kick and she toppled, eyes wide and frightened.
That was... that was the first time he had ever struck her.
"Akane..." he breathed. His voice was low, tight, and his eyes angry. "Take it back."
"I..." She shrank away, suddenly feeling cold and afraid.
"Take it back, Akane," he repeated, voice growing harder. Akane winced in spite of herself. Ranma...
But she wouldn't allow herself to be cowed. She wouldn't let herself be afraid of the man who had stolen her heart, held it tenderly, and then proceeded to rip it into tiny shreds. She couldn't... "Why?" she demanded, eyes suddenly bright as she pulled herself to her feet and stared up at him. "If you cared so much, Ranma," she spat out his name like it was a curse, and perhaps, it was a curse, forced to haunt her consciousness until she grew weary with grief. "Then you wouldn't have left in the first place!"
He looked at her then, and she was acutely aware of the height difference. When he spoke she dropped her gaze, suddenly pained. "I thought we got over this a long time ago, Akane," Ranma said quietly. "Good night." Then he pulled away, walking towards the entrance. It hurt, more than she could ever admit, to see him walking off like he did so many years ago, shoulders hard and cold with controlled anger.
Something took hold in Akane then. She looked up at his departing figure, eyes burning. "It was your fault you know," she threw at him, not caring if her voice was cracking. "Your fault that your mother cried, your fault that Ukyou broke down, your fault that Shampoo cried, your fault that Ryouga never came back to Nerima!" The words were bitter and hot, the names rusty and unfamiliar on her lips. She had no idea what she was doing, or why she had chosen to dig up the painful past, even though it hurt her and burned at her.
"My fault is it?" he answered shortly. Suddenly she was confronted with Ranma's burning eyes, eyes that leapt alive with angry blue fire. "My fault?" His voice was rising, but she refused to back down; stubborn as she was. "Is it my fault that they tried to trick me? Is it my fault Kodachi poisoned the food? Is it my fault they burnt down my mother's house and nearly killed her? Tell me, Akane, is it my fault? Maybe it's my fault too that your father died?"
She could feel her eyes burning now, and desperately wished for the sting beneath her eyelids to disappear. "Leave my father out of this!" she all but screamed, chest heaving with anger and hurt. "It's all your fault anyway!"
It's always your fault.
Why was she lying? She didn't know. Oh, Ranma, Ranma, Ranma...
"It's all your fault," she repeated thickly, suddenly aware of tears blurring her vision. "If you hadn't left, Shampoo and Ukyou would still be happy right now. If you hadn't left, Aunty Saotome wouldn't have cried so much for you. If you hadn't left, everyone would still be happy... if you hadn't left... if you hadn't left..." her voice dropped to a soft pained whisper, and she lowered her eyes, blinking furiously, almost talking to herself. "If you hadn't left... Yasuo would still be alive..."
"Who?"
Akane's head snapped up at Ranma's soft question in horror. What had she just said...?
He was approaching her now, so close that she could breathe in the distinct masculine scent that she knew was an intrinsic part of Ranma. She was scared, suddenly, and on its own accord her feet stumbled away slowly. But he kept on coming, and she was afraid, afraid of what she would say and what she would do.
"Who's Yasuo, Akane?" Ranma questioned.
She could have laughed, had she not been so horrified by what she had done. Was he... jealous? After all these years, was he still jealous? She could have laughed, amused by the flickering of male possessiveness he still harbored, even though following her chuckle she would have sobered and most likely dissolved into tears instead.
Ranma, don't... She wanted to say. But she couldn't, the wetness in her eyes threatening to spill over any second now. Would he be swayed, like he used to at the sight of every girl's tears? She doubted so.
"Tell me, Akane." She felt her back touching the Doujou walls, and this time when she blinked, she became distinctly aware of wetness dripping down her face in steady streaks. Ranma would not let her leave without getting the answer he wanted, would he?
When had things gotten so bad?
He wanted an answer, didn't he? Well, she would give it to him.
Dipping her head, Akane squeezed her eyes shut tightly, forcing herself to hold down the sobs that rose from within her. "Yasuo..." she spoke softly, voice shaking with the grief that only a mother could identify with. Did he care? She looked up at him then, eyes pleading and pained.
"Yasuo was our son, Ranma."
-
Oh my. Now where did that come from? –Scratches head- Oh well. This is fast veering into the drama genre, yes? -.- Don't you just adore cliffhangers? Mwahaha.
Review! (: