Chapter 3
Grass had begun to sprout through the dirt in front of her tombstone. A little over four months passed since Akane watched the dirt shoveled away from the firm ground to make room for Rori's casket. It surprised her how quickly the fresh dirt around Rori's tombstone began to assimilate into its former appearance despite the feeling the last four months dragged along. Rather than focusing on the inconsequentials, she shifted her attention back to the tombstone.
Rori Saotome
Sleep, my little one, sleep
Strange how her daughter's nickname had been permanently etched in stone rather than her full name, Kaori. She supposed it began with Ranma's insistence on shortening her name until no one other name than Rori seemed appropriate for her.
"Her name's Rori, Akane," Ranma spoke plainly. "That's what I'm calling her."
Akane folded her arms and looked skeptical, "Funny, but I seem to remember agreeing to the name Kaori."
"I told you I hated that name."
"And I told you that Kaori was the name I wanted."
"But that name doesn't suit her." Ranma looked down at the babe in the incubator fondly, "She's not a Kaori."
"So Rori's her nickname? Where did you come up with that?"
"Took the last syllable of her name and added an R," Ranma shoved his hands into is pants pocket and answered as though his reasoning were obvious.
"Why an R? There's a lot of other letters, Ranma."
He grinned cheekily, "It's the first letter of my name."
She fought it. She stressed Rori's birth name to all the family members, but all efforts were in vain. In just a few days, everyone called her Rori and eventually she buckled, admitting that the nickname fit. Ranma merely grinned and told her he knew she would come around.
Even when Rori was still in neonatal intensive care there was much celebration and happiness among the family. No one truly believed that death could take the little creature they all had fallen in love with. After all, her eyes were large and bright, she kicked like a true Saotome, she curled and thrashed her fists like a Tendo, and unlike most infants she could focus her large blue eyes on everyone that held and spoke to her.
Even four months later, Akane could remember every detail of her child. She remembered Rori's sweet powdery smell, the almost invisible downy hair upon her head, the way her eyes crinkled when she slept, the way her tiny transparent fingers would curl around Ranma's much larger hand, her fragile skin, and the small noises she made in her sleep. It was all still in her mind's eye, a bittersweet imprint on her retinas. She would not trade the images and memories for the moon even though they pressed on her brain at all hours.
"I miss you," she whispered to the tombstone.
"How are you, Akane?"
Akane started and looked behind her. Ryoga stood there, looking sheepish at having caught her in a private moment.
"I didn't mean to interrupt, but I saw you here."
"So you've heard?"
"Yeah." Ryoga took another step, putting a hand on hand on her shoulder and turned his gaze to the white tombstone, "So what was she like?"
"Perfect," Akane began but added as an afterthought, "except for her lungs."
"I wish I could have seen her."
"I forgot that I was still pregnant the last time you saw me."
"I was told she was beautiful."
"Who told you?"
"Ukyo. She said that Rori had Ranma's eyes but that it looked like she just might have your smile."
"I never thought that she looked much like either of us."
Ryoga sighed, "So how are you really?"
"It's been hard, Ryoga." The wind ruffled her hair and she tucked the wisps of it behind her ear.
"You can tell me if you want."
Akane looked at him, relieved, "Honestly, I carried her for almost seven months but I still feel like I'm carrying her. Except now she's on my back and it's so heavy, Ryoga, but I don't want the feeling to go away because it's the memories that weigh so much." She stopped, embarrassed at having said so much, "But I bet that sounds weird doesn't it?"
"No," he replied gently. "It doesn't sound weird at all."
It was quiet for a while and the two of them stared at the tombstone. Ryoga was worried for her, she could feel it, but he was not pushing her.
"I'm sorry, Akane."
"Why?" Akane wondered.
"For not being here when it was important."
"You're here now. That's what counts." Akane looked at him, "Thanks."
"For what?"
"Listening," she answered with tears in her eyes.
"Akane," Ryoga breathed, none too gently, "how is Ranma handling it?"
Akane's tears fell upon the flattened dirt, "I don't know."
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
"Come on, guys. The move isn't that hard."
Ranma frowned as he watched his students try to master a newer and more challenging move; most of them were failing miserably. He watched as Roka, one of the more promising in the bunch of youngsters, was struggling the most.
"Roka," Ranma snapped, "pay attention to your center of balance."
The boy hung his head at the sharp voice and looked thoroughly ashamed of himself. Roka grit his teeth and concentrated on finding his center before attempting the move again only to end up on the floor. The boy failed to look Ranma in the eye and Ranma felt a momentary sense of guilt. He reached a hand down to the boy and pulled him up from the dojo floor.
"It's okay, Roka. Just try it again."
Ranma moved on down the line of students and mentally chastised himself for being so hard on them. They were not to blame for his foul mood. That could be attributed directly to Akane and the ridiculous argument they had that morning. He barely remembered what the argument was about, but it seemed like the petty little arguments were becoming more frequent with each passing day. Ranma almost wished for some of the big blow up arguments they use to have before they got married. At least those had some flair and passion behind them. These quarrels were little more than irrelevant spats that equaled out to nothing.
He wished. . . .
"Class dismissed," Ranma yelled.
"But Sensei, it isn't time," a young girl spoke up.
"It is for today," Ranma said firmly. "We'll start the same time tomorrow."
The students filed out the dojo door, avoiding any eye contact with Ranma. He watched them leave and when everyone was gone he sunk to the floorboards and put his head in his hands. There was a constant pounding that seemed to hub at the back of his head, but that was the very least of his concerns. He hated when this happened.
When it gets too much . . .
It happened occasionally when he ran entirely out of the energy and concentration needed to walk and talk at the same time. Most days he held his own, but some days he pushed throughout the sunlit hours to maintain his mental and physical equilibrium but sometimes there was no steam left. Times when he felt as though his insides were folded in two and that every part of him had been numbed by cold water.
I hate weakness.
Kasumi entered the dojo, "Ranma?" She had heard general griping from the students as they shuffled past the front of the Tendo home and went to the dojo to check on things. Ranma was there, in the middle of the dojo floor, sitting and staring into something that was seen only by his own eyes.
"Ranma," Kasumi knelt by his side, "you're shaking."
He looked at her and then rubbed his eyes, "Guess I pushed a little hard. I need some sleep."
"Is everything okay?"
"I'm fine, Kasumi." She looked doubtful. "Really."
"Then go home."
"What about the mess?"
"I'll clean it up. This is your last class for the day so just go home and take a nap."
"Alright."
Ranma stood, a bit unsteady for a moment, and then smiled at Kasumi, "Don't worry. I'm fine." He waved, ignoring her looks of concern. Just before reaching the dojo door he hesitated, "Kasumi, please don't tell Akane about this." He knew Akane too had similar days, but she kept going to school, working, pushing through, and he could never let her see his own emotional debility.
Kasumi nodded and watched him with sharp eyes for any other cracks in his armor, but she knew if there was any weakness he would never let her find it. At the first available alley, Ranma squashed his head against a brick wall and breathed deeply. He concentrated on his heartbeat, half to center his whirling thoughts and half to steady the beat's palpations.
One, two, three, four, five . . . . .
And so on
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
"Just give her a trim and then style it a bit," Nabiki commanded to the hairstylist whose scissors teetered precariously near Akane's bangs. "Don't worry, Sis. This is just what you need."
"I don't know."
"You haven't had a haircut in ages. Besides it's on me."
It had been months since she had even thought about getting hair cut and now it hung slightly past her shoulders. After everything, she wondered why she had been so fussy about maintaining a specific hairstyle; it all seemed so silly now.
Akane gave in to her sister and grinned slightly, "Thanks."
And that was all the payment Nabiki needed. Akane smiled rarely after Rori's birth, still the smiles came in random spurts and it was always pleasant to see. Nabiki then rolled her eyes and smirked at herself. Looked as though Rori's death had changed her as well; never before had Nabiki Tendo accepted anything other than money as reimbursement.
"She still gets to me, even now," Nabiki whispered, laughing at her softness before turning her attention back to Akane and the hairstylist.
The hairstylist began snipping at Akane's hair, looking supremely confident in her unspoken plan. She complimented Akane's hair multiple times, commenting on its thickness, bounce, and color between trying to make casual conversation.
"So you're married?" the stylist asked, more out of an obligation than actual interest.
"Yeah. Over a year now."
"Any kids?"
Nabiki cringed and Akane blinked once. Then there was a beeping noise, a large hair dryer shutting off, that sounded similar the heart monitor Rori had been attached to for two months. Then the feeling came, the other worldliness that made her world as firm as cotton candy and then the questions.
Am I really a mother?
Did she live long enough to make me a mother?
"No. I don't have any kids," she heard herself respond.
None living.
"You haven't been married long. You have plenty of time for that."
If I were meant to be a mother she would have lived wouldn't she?
"Are you okay?"
What did I do wrong?
If I did things right she would have lived, wouldn't she?
"Akane?"
Why do I feel so . . . . unfinished?
"Mrs. Saotome?"
And the return to the tangible world came, "Huh?"
"You alright, Akane?"
"I'm fine Nabiki. I was just thinking."
Why do the littlest things do this to me?
With each shear of the scissors, the questions kept coming.
When will this stop?
Why won't this stop?
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
Akane set the dinner table with plastic plates even though they were only having sandwiches for dinner. Most of their dinners were nothing more than takeout or simple meals since Akane could barely scrape together a meal and Ranma did not have the patience for cooking. It was a hard fast rule at the beginning of their marriage that no matter how simple the meal was the two of them would set the table and eat together as if they were dining on a gourmet meal.
"The table is set."
Ranma turned away from the cabinet and only needed two steps to get to the table due to their tiny, overcrowded apartment. He tossed a sandwich onto her plate and the two of them began to eat in silence. Akane frowned. She did not expect any conversation, but she did assume that Ranma would notice her haircut.
Her hair was now cut in a chin length bob that was much more modern than her last hairdo. The hairstylist had convinced her to keep growing her bangs out and she looked a bit different without the thick hair resting on her forehead. At the very least, different enough for Ranma to comment on it, but he sat in his chair avoiding any attempt at formulating words.
"I got my hair cut today," she blurted into the thick silence.
"I didn't notice." He looked at her for a second, "Looks nice." His answer was flippant, meaningless, but he needed to say something.
"You couldn't care less about what my hair looks like. Don't say something you don't mean."
"It's hair, Akane."
"Well it's my hair," she responded, annoyed. "You could care a little bit."
"It's hair," he repeated.
"Well, we all can't have that braid."
Ranma understood that tone and knew he needed to steer the conversation into calmer waters before a useless quarrel began, "Ukyo said Ryoga is back in town."
"I know."
"How?"
"I saw him the other day. We talked a bit."
"Where?"
"The cemetery."
"He went with you to the cemetery?" Ranma could not pinpoint why this bothered him, but he could not deny the growing irritation especially since her fingers were drumming against the table, hard. He knew it had nothing to do with jealousy, that was a different sensation entirely, but the thought of Ryoga at his daughter's grave was wrong.
"No. You know how he is with direction. He was walking and found me there."
"What did you talk about?"
"He just asked how everything was going."
"What did you tell him?"
"I answered his questions."
She was being vague on purpose.
"Stop it."
"What?"
"Trying to make me mad."
"I'm not," she responded.
"Then why won't you just answer my questions?"
"I answered them," she hissed. "Why am I getting the tenth degree?"
Ranma finished off his sandwich, "This is stupid."
Akane looked disgustedly at her turkey sandwich and pushed the plate away, "Yup." She stood up from the table and stretched before walking into the living room.
"Aren't you gonna finish that?"
"Lost my appetite. That happens when I have to listen to such sparkling conversation." Akane plopped on the couch and opened her business textbook and began taking notes, ready to properly ignore him for the rest of the evening.
And while Ranma fixed himself a second sandwich, silence retook its hold on the home.
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
Time kept ticking and soon it was Kasumi's birthday. The Tendo household was full of people, streamers, balloons, presents, and food thanks to Nodoka's planning. Surprisingly, Nodoka convinced Soun to take part in the birthday preparations, perhaps to help him out of his latest funk or to simply give him an opportunity to thank his eldest for her years of subtle service in his household. Kasumi greeted the surprise party with tears. It was almost too much to see old friends from high school, her family, old family friends, and the Saotomes.
"I don't deserve this," Kasumi whispered.
"No, my dear," Nodoka admonished, "you deserve much more." She kissed Kasumi on the cheek and led her into the hullabaloo.
All around the house people were chatting, eating, running; so much so that many partygoers stretched into the dojo. Genma and Happosai ensured that sake and other wine and liquors would be at the party. Happosai was sneaking around, trying to catch glimpses up skirts while Genma was keeping quiet in the corner with his cup of sake. Ukyo and Ryoga were in a corner, reliving past stories and laughing. Kuno was at the snack table attempting to impress a girl with his Shakespearean vernacular and Nabiki was trying to coerce someone to pay up on a past debt. Soun was laughing with an old friend and Nodoka took to rearranging the gift table. Mousse was uselessly flirting with Shampoo even as she was trying to cheer Ranma out of his mood.
"Ranma, want food?" Shampoo asked.
"Not hungry."
"You sure? I make ramen for you."
"That's okay."
"Then come dance. Maybe will cheer you up."
"I don't dance," he answered, scanning the area of the dojo that had been suddenly designated as a dance floor. He watched as Hiroshi utilized his lack of rhythm to impress Yuka and Sayuri as Daisuke laughed.
"You want punch?"
Ranma looked at her expectant face and gave her a trace of a smile, "Sure. That'd be nice." Shampoo bounced away quickly, followed at her heels by Mousse, and ran to the refreshment table. Ranma rolled his eyes. Once could call Shampoo many things but no one could ever deny that the girl was persistent.
Ranma never enjoyed large crowds and felt at odds when there was a need to socialize with many people at once. Just another characteristic formed out of his nomadic childhood with Genma, but his mother had persuaded him to come. It was a party for Kasumi after all. Akane had mentioned the party to Ranma and having felt she done her part made no effort to entice him to come. She knew his distaste for what he considered frivolous events and decided he would probably be happier using his time for what he considered more productive purposes.
Akane chatted and made her rounds at the party. There were so many Nerima citizens she had not seen in so long and there was barely any time to take a breath before she saw someone else she needed to catch up with. She tried to steer the conversations away from Rori, but there were many who had yet to offer her sympathy.
"I'm so sorry, Akane," one stated.
"Oh, you're young yet. You'll have others." A well-meaning elderly woman had told her.
"You have my prayers," came another reassurance.
"She's watching from heaven," another said.
"I know how you feel," a pampered old friend of Kasumi's stated, a girl that had lost nothing more than a chipped nail in her life.
Akane shrugged, trying to take all the good intentioned and some of the misguided comments in stride; she had heard them all before. There was nothing to be done about it, but there were so many people touching her, brushing by her, droning and droning on to her. For a moment, no one spoke but simply walked past her as she stood in the center of the room, and the loneliness was unbearable. She felt herself hyperventilate and the room, the people, and the lights, whirled around her as though she stood in the center of a highway.
Stop thinking and breathe.
I need something to focus on. . .
And there it was. Kasumi with a happy flush to her cheeks as Doctor Tofu handed her a bouquet of orange lilies. Kasumi breathed in the scent of the flowers bashfully, and Akane noted the sweat on Dr. Tofu's forehead. He wiped it off with a handkerchief and tossed it back into his pocket as Kasumi smiled. Apparently, Kasumi had missed the family practitioner after he had moved even though she had never given any indication of it, but with Kasumi you had to read in between the vacant smiles.
Akane breathing softened and she pulled her tears back. She tried to shake the loneliness, even brushing an invisible something from her shoulder, but even in a crowd it was there. Despite watching Kasumi's well deserved happiness with a satisfaction rooted in her stomach, she knew she was different from everyone else there. She alone knew the darkness and complication of losing something so essential and heart-shaping. Well, everyone with the exception of Ranma. She craned her head, looking for him, and spotted him in a corner of the dojo. He looked as though he was in a half-hearted conversation with Ryoga and appeared a tad bored with it all.
The tinkling of a glass captured Akane's attention, "Everyone, everyone!" All eyes shifted towards the front of the dojo. Nodoka stood with a champagne glass in her hand and smiled, "We're all here to celebrate Kasumi on her birthday. So let's offer up a toast to this blessed girl that makes helping her family her utmost joy and makes everyone's life a little brighter with her friendship and smile. To Kasumi!"
Everyone turned to a blushing Kasumi and raised a mix of glasses and plastic cups in her honor. The crowd began to sing Happy Birthday. A girlish shrill came out above the rest of the voices, a three year old that was trying to sing the song louder than the rest crowd from her father's raised arms. Akane recognized the father as one of Kasumi's old schoolmates. The tiny girl forgot several of the words but made up for it with her exuberance. At the end of her off-key rendition of the traditional song, the father lowered the girl down while the she flung her arms around his neck. A woman appeared from behind the man, obviously his wife, and gave them both a warming hug.
Akane's breath hitched in the back of her throat at the scene of the happy family. A complete family. Her heart took a queer half beat and she knew she needed to get out of the dojo. She checked around the room for an escapeand from the corner of her eye she saw Ranma quickly making his way out of the dojo door. She knew; Ranma had seen it too.
She walked out the dojo and stepped into the fresh air. She took a large breath of it and went to look for Ranma. She found him at the farthest corner of the backyard, leaning against the fence and looking up into the foggy night.
"Hey," she greeted lightly.
"Hey."
The two of them stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say next. It was not often that the two of them were away from their silent apartment, and the difference in environments put them both at discomfort.
"Good party," Ranma offered. He looked away.
Akane studied him before speaking, "You don't have to pretend."
"What?"
"You don't have to pretend it's okay."
He looked at her then, into her eyes, and stayed that way for what seemed ages. It was an odd feeling to be so close and to actually feel the proximity so heavily. Most times, there was a distance, even when sleeping, laying within inches of each other. Ranma looked at her with eyes that were all stained-glass facets of pain, confusion, and perhaps a tinge of hope. She rested her hand on the small of his back, meaning to stroke the curvature there but her courage failed her. Looking into his eyes, his once confident but now tragic eyes, she understood what he needed to hear.
"I know."
He regarded her with weariness and shied away from her a bit. He had no clue how he should respond and chose to say nothing.
"I saw it. It knocked the wind out of me too."
He was silent but looked at her, measuring her intentions. She looked as though her courage was failing as much as his, and he realized that she did not leave the party just to comfort him. Akane too needed to get out.
"When I see parents with kids," he spoke softly, "sometimes it tears me up. I can't handle it."
Akane's eyes watered, "When I see families, I see what I don't get to have all over again." She looked at the ground, kicked up some dirt, and shifted her focus anywhere else.
Ranma said nothing but took her wrist and flipped it over, looking as though he wanted to see through her flesh and right down to her pulse. Akane thought for a second that he might kiss her wrist but he did not. Instead he flattened her hand and placed his other hand over hers, effectively sandwiching her cold hand. There was nothing grand in the action, but as he continued to stare at the light pressure existing between the fleshes of their hands Akane knew it was enough for them both.
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
He dreamt.
Rori was inside the dojo, a tiny slip of a girl, but she had a pointed, defiant chin. He stood behind her and positioned her hand for a quick punch. She frowned in thought and bit her lip, trying to focus on her stance and the arrangement of her arms. He whispered encouragement in her ears and shaped her strong but small fingers into an appropriate fist. He moved around to watch her. He was not sure yet, but he was positive she inherited his skill and her mother's strength.
She punched outwards and grinned expectantly, hoping for praise. He grinned back, basking in the beauty and assuredness of his daughter. She had her mother's smile, he had hoped for that, his eyes, his mother's chin, and the silky straight ink- black hair of Akane's mother. Her hair was tied with ribbon into a long ponytail and she shook her head to the side, trying to get a strand of hair out of her eyes. Rori looked just as she had as a newborn with the same delicateness in her face and a brightness that her five years of living added to her person.
She was . . . enchanting.
"Try it again, Rori."
"Yes, Daddy," she replied with a voice full of silver.
He woke up.
Ryoga stood over him, and apparently kicked his foot to wake him, "C'mon let's spar. I'm leaving town soon, and I could use the practice before I go."
"I'm not in the mood."
He hated being woken up from the good dreams, the dreams where Rori lived. They came as often as the nightmares now, at least with these he imagined her at two, and three, and five, and ten, and sixteen, but for some reason he could never see her past sixteen. She was always a girl in the dreams, never an adult, but in this dream world she lived and that was the important thing. Still, waking up to remember the reality was bruising down to the bone but he could not wish the dreams away.
"Never thought I'd see the day."
"Oh, shut up."
Ryoga sighed, "Well, then I'll ask you this. Do you want to talk about why you've lost your edge and speed?" Ranma made a grunt to object but Ryoga shushed him with a hand. "I've watched you practice. You've lost your focus."
"Like I'd talk to you about anything," Ranma snarled.
"Then talk to Akane," Ryoga suggested. "Couldn't hurt." He then shrugged and walked out of the dojo, leaving Ranma to chew on the wisdom.
"You don't know a damn thing!" he hollered at Ryoga's retreating form.
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
"Would you like to tell me about it, Akane?"
"Not really." Akane crossed her arms and sunk into the corner of the plaid couch. She had no desire to talk to the university counselor, but she had be referred by a professor with sharp eyes that knew her history and had caught her staring aimlessly multiple times, hearing nothing when she should have been taking notes.
"Then I'll tell you what I know. I know you've lost your daughter six months ago, and I know that three of your teachers have complained that you aren't paying attention in class." The female counselor spoke matter-of-factly but softly.
"My grades are good," Akane stated flatly.
"I know, but all those concerned felt it would be good for you to speak to me." Akane turned away from the counselors infuriating sympathetic gaze. "I don't want you to feel like you need to be on the defensive or that I'm going to force you to speak to me, but I'm here to listen." Then the woman smiled warmly, openly, "And nothing you say in this room is ever going to leave this room. I took an oath."
Akane sighed and felt resigned. The world had ganged up on her.
"What do you want to know?"
"What do you want to tell me?"
"Things hurt. It never stops. I keep going and sometimes it hurts less, but it won't go away." She offered the basics of her emotions, skimming the top for the fat of it, but offered nothing more.
"If you don't mind me asking, can you put a name to what you're feeling?"
"I don't know." She thought about it, "Sadness, hurt, loneliness." She looked down at her hand, staring at the lines and blue paths of the veins underneath her skin.
The counselor smiled slightly in encouragement, "Is there anything more you could tell me about those specific feelings?"
And it continued, beginning with curt explanations but as the hour passed the counselor was friendly and listened so sincerely without judgment that Akane felt her muscles slacken. She began to offer information willingly, speaking on end about her guilt, about hating to be pressured to talk about Rori, about her lack of appetite, about the judgment others passed on her, the sleepless nights, her decrease in energy and interest in the world, how she hated visiting her father's home because she wanted to weep along with him, and her fear of forgetting how it felt when she cuddled Rori in her arms. And the counselor simply listened.
"Akane, I hate to interrupt but our hour is almost up and there is one question I really want to ask."
"Okay."
"You haven't talked about your husband. How is he doing?"
"He seems okay." At the questioning gaze from the counselor, she felt as though she should offer a little more, "We don't really talk about it."
"Why not?"
Akane felt the edges around her swirl and curve as the wetness at her eyes formed, "I thought we might a few weeks ago at my sister's birthday party, but we didn't and now it's just the same. We can't talk about it."
"Why?" The woman handed her the box of tissues.
"We've never been good at communicating. It got better after we admitted that we liked each other, but everything was so complicated. Ranma's not one for talking, and we're just so different."
"So start now. Rori's death should connect you not separate you."
Akane began to blubber tearfully, "It's not that simple. Our relationship was so difficult. It was an arranged marriage. You should probably know that. But we fought it so long before we realized we loved each other. Then we were pressured to get married so young. We haven't even been married two years yet, but we wanted to make our parents happy and we did love each other so we went on ahead. And there was a plan, but then there was Rori and all this happened. Now, she's gone and we can't even talk to each other. I tried a few times but he shut me down and now I don't even want to try anymore. We just keep on going and ignore each other or we have these stupid little fights. And I don't have the energy to fix it. I just don't. " Akane stopped, slightly horrified at her outburst, but felt like something stuck to her insides had loosened.
"Are you happy like this?"
"No."
"Then I need you to answer this question honestly. Can you keep going on like this?"
"No," the tears began to fall. It felt terrible to think it, to admit it, but that was the truth. The thought of continuing their marriage with the dark silence between them, rolling it out into each hour, day, month, lifetime, choked her.
"Then you need to decide if the problems are worth fixing." The woman paused, regarding Akane with an empathetic eye. "Are they worth fixing, Akane?"
Akane inhaled and could not push the air into her lungs. She thought of the day he saved her life at Jusenkyo, the day when he swallowed his pride and admitted he needed her at his side, the day they stood side by side and pledged they would be together until death, how after their wedding he gently touched the magnolia she placed in her hair, their first night together, and her love for him. Then she thought of the day he rejected her.
"I don't work like you do, Akane. Your way isn't mine."
She thought of the stony silences, the stupid spats, and the way he ignored her and stayed at the dojo all hours. She thought of the horrific day when he went out of his way to be hurtful for no reason, when he asked her what she had done to go into an early labor. He apologized repeatedly afterwards and she too had said hurtful things on her bad days, but nothing like that.
How could he ask me that?
Then she marveled at how anything could put a ripple and quake in her love for him. Never would she have believed it could come to this, but this was not about love. This was about their inability to live together and connect, and she finally answered.
"I don't' know."
And what frightened her, made her make an involuntary sob, and struck her to her heart, was that she spoke the honest truth.
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
Sorry for the wait but here it is. Now let me give credit where credit is due. Kudos to all reviewers. All of you are absolutely wonderful and beyond words, and I love all criticisms (I need them), suggestions, and praise. Thanks for pointing out my apparent inability to catch grammatical and spacing errors. I'm notoriously bad at catching my own mistakes despite revising chapters multiple, multiple times. I just can't. It's bad. If anyone wants to offer to be a beta reader I would be thrilled. Not that anyone should or would but if you're interested just mention it in the reviews, and I'll be more than happy to revise any story that person posts. I'm fabulous at proofreading other people's stuff, just not my own.
Anyway, enjoy the story, please review if you wish (I am positively mad about them, in the good way), and feel free to leave flames, constructive criticisms, or whatever you wish. And please remember that this story does deal with grief and death and that Ranma's and Akane's behaviors and words stem directly from that since that is realistically what happens. It is not my intention to villainify either of them.