Chapter 4
The date loomed over them. The twelfth of August. To pinpoint it more precisely 10:14 p.m. on the twelfth of August. It was coming. They knew it by the sensations in their marrow just like some could predict the weather by the amount of rheumatism in their bones. It was the shadow that brushed against their shoulders, the tingling in their eardrums, the numbness in their fingers, and the nibbling sensation at the lining of their stomach.
It was coming and with it bore memories.
Akane leaned over the incubator and looked down at her newborn. It looked like she was all bones and ribs with nothing but translucent flesh to cover her skeleton. Wires were attached to her veins and ran up her nose. Her breathing was done for her since that was too tall an order just yet, and it hurt to listen to the whooshing sound of the ventilator. Akane tried to forget that she still was not allowed to hold her daughter even after two days, not that she really had much strength left in her frame to lift anything after her difficult labor.
"If you get better," Akane promised, "I'll take you home. It's not very big, but the room in my heart makes up for it."
And still more remembrances.
"I'll teach you everything I know, but only if you want to."
Rori turned her head at the sound of his voice and regarded him with the expanding blueness of her eyes.
"But I know you'll want to. I can tell these things. And I promise it won't be like it was for me. I won't take you away from your Mom. And I won't be cruel or mean like Pop was."
Ranma followed the old routine and put the plastic glove on his hand before reaching into the side of the incubator. He stroked his thumb along her cheek and chin.
"I'll do right by you, Rori. I promise."
And it carried the terrible, heart sickening memories too.
"Ranma?"
"Yeah?"
Akane buried her head into his arm, trying to keep from crying as they watched the physician take their baby's cold body away. They knew where she would be stored, the temporary casket of the morgue.
"She never saw the outside. Her whole life was here."
They moved and clung to each other, arms and bodies melding together, because that was the only thing that provided any balance as their world melted away.
Rori's birthday was coming and the only gift it carried was a second baptism of pain.
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
"How are you doing, Akane?" her counselor, Dr. Iwata, asked.
"It's been rough. You know with Rori's birthday next week and all." Akane felt the familiar throbbing of tears at her eyes, like a familiar friend. "She would've turned one."
"I know," the doctor acknowledged sadly. "What's been rough?"
"It's like it was at the beginning. I cry all the time, the thought of food makes me sick, I can't stop thinking about her, and everything seems like it's just too much. I broke into tears when I was signing up for my classes. The woman at the desk looked at me like I was crazy."
Dr. Iwata tucked her thick black hair behind her ears and shared her brand of reassurance, "That's normal. It happens all the time with people who've experienced a loss. It's a reaction to her birthday. It's okay to feel that way, and it doesn't mean you've lost your way. It's just that Rori's birthday is bound to be an emotional time."
Akane buried her face in her hands, "It won't always be like this?"
"No, Akane, it won't always like this," she guaranteed in a voice coated with sympathy. "But let me ask you this. Have you planned anything for that day?"
"Planned something?"
"Something to honor her. Maybe a dinner in her honor, or you could have everyone you know light a candle for her, or even release some balloons at the time she was born. Or you could donate money to a charity in her name."
"I hadn't thought about it."
"I suggest you plan something, and get Ranma involved. This may be just what he needs."
"Knowing him, he won't," Akane grunted.
"Have you tried to reach him lately?"
Akane shook her head, both dislodging the swelling in her throat and answering the counselor's question, "I tried a few weeks ago, but we just argued."
"Has it been that bad?"
"Worse. We're either arguing or ignoring each other." She sighed, a bone-weary sigh. "I'm so sick of it. I can't try anymore. I'm too tired."
Things were worsening by the day and she knew they both had changed, grown separately to the point that they could not see past the others face. When the marriage was good, she could read Ranma clearly and knew his thoughts, reinterpreted his words, and possessed a connection with him beyond description. Nowadays, all that was like dust and it seemed to blow away with little more than a breath.
She tried to rub the weariness from her eyes, "I don't have the energy."
She remembered the time she dragged him with her to the counselor's office with much pleading, prodding, and nagging. He came, but the entire time he looked sullen and only answered the counselor's words and questions with grumbles. After a while, he stood up after telling Akane and Dr. Iwata precisely what he thought of the session and left, slamming the door behind him.
"This is all bullshit. Maybe the two of you think that talking fixes everything but it doesn't. I'm strong enough not to need this." He pointed a finger at Akane. "Remember that, Akane, before you try and yank me down here again."
"Give him another try," Dr. Iwata prodded, tenderly.
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
Planning the dinner kept her mind occupied. She obsessed over what food to serve, a mixture of Ranma's and her own mother's favorites, the lighting, and the invitations. Kasumi cooked the meal, Nabiki funded the small gathering, and she planned it down to the last detail. The Tendos, Saotomes, and Dr. Tofu would eat, share memories of Rori, and then walk out to the koi pond and light a floating candle, finishing with a silent prayer. She had every detail outlined and categorized in her mind with such care, but her mistake was not in the details. It was in inviting Ranma.
He sat crossly at the end of the table, as far from Akane and his mother as possible, and glared at everyone, mentally challenging them to speak. Between Akane's urgings and his mother's demands, they managed to drag him to this idiocy. He ate his food slowly, exaggerating every bite, to make sure Akane didn't miss his anger. They all watched him between bites, silent and uncomfortable, feeling the tension that sparked in the air. The minutes spread thin, and Akane sat afraid to ask anyone to mention Rori for fear that Ranma would bolt.
"Does anyone want more food?" Kasumi offered.
"I want to leave," Ranma spat in Akane's direction.
"You promised," she hissed in return.
Ranma slammed his eating utensils down on the table, "I said I'd come. I didn't say I'd sit here forever."
Akane fumed silently and the growing pressure in her head throbbed. There was no answer for his stubbornness. She stared at her plate, offering no response.
He frowned, "Fine, I'm leaving." He pulled himself up and turned his back to leave.
"Son?" Nodoka began.
"Sorry, Mom, but this is stupid!" He walked away, slamming the front door shut with a thud that echoed through the kitchen.
Akane pounced up, fueled by her anger and unsure of what she would say, but there were words biting the end of her tongue and this time he would hear them. She ran out the door and watched as Ranma walked into the dojo. She followed.
"Ranma!" she yelled, slamming the sliding door shut behind her.
"What?" he challenged immediately.
"Quit being an ass and come back!"
"No."
"Why not?"
"'Cause it's ridiculous."
"Not to me, Ranma!" she whispered, angrily. "Why can't you just give me this?"
"You think this is going to fix things, but it's not." he ground out. "And I've told you before. I don't need help."
"It would if you let it! Of course it's not going to do any good if you keep shutting things out!"
"You go back. I'll stay here." he stated, turning his back on her.
"At least I'm doing something with her memory." Akane heaved an angry tinted breath, "I'm trying. That's more than I can say for you."
"What's that mean?" He whipped around quickly enough.
"It means you're disappearing. I don't know where you are, but you're not here and you won't let anyone in."
"What about you?" he jeered. "You cry all the time and you've made her room a sick shrine. You're the one who won't let go."
Akane bit the side of her cheek hard. Tears came to the front of her eyes, and she had no retort prepared.
"You're lecturing me, but you're no better than your Dad."
"Stop," she whispered. It hurt; those words. She strived to be different from her father, to continue living, really living, after her loss.
"No!" he bellowed. "You know nothing! You drag me here when you know I don't want to come 'cause you think it will make you feel better. This isn't about Rori. It's about you."
"That's not true," she mumbled, "I just want to help."
"It's not helping when the person doesn't want it." He pointed to his chest, "I don't want your help, Akane."
"Now you're just trying to hurt me because you're angry." Her voice hitched, but her expression was sure, "You're mad and you want to punish me."
"That's not what this is about," he clenched his fists.
"Then tell me. What's this about?"
Ranma ignored her mournful face and hardened his heart, "It's about you forcing me to do things. Give me room!"
"All we've done is give each other room! We don't even talk anymore. We don't talk at all!"
"That's not the point."
"It is the point! You've given up on everything! You've closed yourself off and nobody can reach you. Why are you doing this?"
"Shut up, Akane," Ranma roared. "You think you've got it all figured out, but you're wrong."
"I'm not!"
"You're damn wrong. You have no idea how wrong!"
Akane curled her fists at her side and narrowed her glare, "Why do you have to be so hateful? This isn't just about dinner. Tell me why you're acting like this!"
"Leave it alone," he demanded in a low, dangerous voice, a voice her reserved for his enemies.
"No!" she stomped her foot.
"Fine," Ranma said, his voice near sizzling. "You want to know why I've given up. I want to know why you gave up."
Akane frowned, confusion rinsing away the fury in her face, "What?"
"You gave up first!" he bellowed.
"Oh really?" she mocked. "How did I give up first?"
"You gave up on her."
"Take that back, Ranma! I never gave up on Rori! I prayed my heart out everyday!" She was mystified, confused, and offended by his heartless accusation, and she knew it showed all over her.
"You did! You told the doctor to not try anymore treatments." He was breathing heavily as though he just finished a prolonged battle, "You gave up." His words were firm and definite, and there was no denying their meaning.
"Oh," Akane gasped, letting out air like she had been punched square in the gut. "You think . . . . you think . . ." She could not finish.
"You wanted to know," he replied quietly, the fight gone out of him.
She nodded her head slowly, "I see."
They stood there with nothing else to say. Akane looked at the floor, shame holding her gaze downwards. He spoke the truth; she had told them to let her go, to quit drawing out her pain filled life. This was why he spoke to her like she was nothing to him and why he must hate her.
"Akane?"
She moved her head slowly to meet his question and looked at him with water pricked eyes. For some reason, the tears could not fall; they were frozen on her lashes. He saw this and knew he had struck her deep, scraping at her soul, and she stood before him now mortified, tarnished, destroyed.
"I don't know what to say," she murmured. "I'm sorry, but that's not close to good enough is it?"
"I'm going to go," he replied clumsily.
He walked away, wanting to say something to smooth things a bit, but words were not his strong suit and knowing Akane she wanted to be alone.
She nodded and returned to the kitchen. Everyone watched her as she walked into the room; Kasumi with tears in her eyes, Genma and Soun gracious enough to pretend they had heard nothing, Nabiki with a drained expression, Dr. Tofu with his face compassionate and one arm around Kasumi, and Nodoka shaking her head sadly.
"You heard all that didn't you?"
No one could lie.
"Thanks for coming," she spoke softly, stealthily wiping away the tears that still refused to drop. "I really appreciate it, but I think I'm just going to go home now."
"Akane?" Kasumi questioned, asking her countless motherly questions with just one word.
She smoothed out her dress and tucked her hair behind her ears, as though looking more presentable would prove she was all right, "I'm okay. Really I am."
She then walked out the door and with no other coherent thought in her brain than making it home
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o.
The moon hung low in the early evening and a gray cast loomed across the sky. The apartment was still, dark, and silent. Akane sat in the corner of her and Ranma's bedroom in her mother's worn rocking chair, looking at the sky and thinking of nothing but the silence that consumed her home.
And she waited.
When Ranma came, he entered softly, perhaps an involuntary habit from his martial arts training or either an attempt to not shatter any more boundaries with Akane. In the weeks to come, she would think of this moment and wonder why he chose that second to be careful and considerate. He closed the door slowly without sound, padded down the hallway, and came into the bedroom without turning the light on but tonight he did not need it. The moon shed a sufficient glow, and despite taking in a swift visual sweep of the room and noting nothing of importance something bit at his nerves.
"Hi, Ranma," Akane said softly. It was a tired greeting, one pregnant with remorse and fatigue.
"Hey."
"Things didn't go so well tonight. I planned it all out but it wasn't what I thought it should be. I shouldn't have done it at all."
"No, Akane," he sighed, "it was . . .nice."
She rocked gently in the chair, "Then I shouldn't have made you come. I knew you didn't want to, but I kept pushing."
"I didn't mean what I said." He sat on the bed, sunk into the comfort of it, and wiped his face with his shaking hands.
"Which part?"
"All of it."
"I know, Ranma," she assured him.
And neither or them said anything, could say anything, because for the first time in having known each other first as an unknown fiancée, then brief enemies, then friends, then as husband and wife, they knew that everything had been said.
There was nothing more. No wells of emotions left or unanswered questions or even angry words. It all had been said tonight; every grievance, regret, harsh word, and sadness. Everything had been covered, rehashed, spoken, yelled, or communicated. No verb or noun was left unturned, no body language ignored, and no facial expression not emoted.
Ranma lifted his head and watched as Akane's arm fell on a rectangular shadow. It took a second for his brain to process the shape into what it truly was, a suitcase.
She caressed the old luggage with her fingertips, "I thought maybe I should leave for a little bit. Thought we could use some space."
He was quiet, confused by her decision.
"I've made arrangements for a while. It'll give me some time to think."
"You're going home?"
"No, that wouldn't work. You're at the dojo all the time so I made a deal with Nabiki. I'm renting a place on campus for a while."
"So that's it? It's over?" He wanted to summon up more emotion, show her that he was concerned, but there was nothing to tap into and he feared that his insides dried up.
"I didn't say that," Akane disagreed softly, "but we need some time away. I can't be here anymore. It's killing me, Ranma. I can't reach you and I can barely help myself" Her voice cracked and a trickle of emotion seeped through her wall.
Ranma scrutinized her back, studied her wearily, "Is this a trick? Are you trying to get me to tell you to stay 'cause I can't."
"No."
"I think that I want to tell you to stay, but I'm just too tired, Akane."
"It's okay. I don't think I'd stay even if you asked."
"I should go. I'll go on a training trip for a while."
"The plans are made, besides Nerima is your home too. You shouldn't have to leave town because of my decision."
They were quiet for a bit, neither moving or breathing too loudly, afraid to break the moment. Their first moment of agreement in a long while.
"Ranma?"
"Huh?"
Akane turned her head, her eyes stricken with tears, "Do you remember what we said right before we got married?"
He was stunned by the question, "No."
Akane smiled, bitterly; he never had a good memory. "We said that no matter what, if someone tried to tear us apart we'd go down swinging."
Ranma looked at her bewildered, unsure of what to say.
She laughed shortly, ruefully, "Not exactly swinging are we?"
"No we aren't," he agreed in hushed tones.
"Do you think if we waited like we wanted to, waited until we were older, would it have worked? Or would we still be like this? "
"I don't know, Akane. Maybe."
"But we never were good at talking were we? Maybe we shouldn't have let them push us into a wedding, but if we didn't there wouldn't be Rori. And she was worth it."
And with that Akane picked up her suitcase and walked out the door, leaving a bone tired Ranma with nothing on his hands but endless thoughts and memories.
Memories of Rori . . . . . memories of Akane . . . . . .
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
Ranma sighed, his face ruddy, "I'm not looking at you like anything."
"Yes you are," Akane argued, biting her lip in thought. "I've never seen you look like that before."
He leaned against the frame of her door and crossed his arms as he watched her fold her clothes, packing them into a plastic tub. She carefully folded each piece of clothing, smoothing out all wrinkles, and placed it in the giant tub that sat on her bed. Watching her made his stomach churn.
"You're imagining things."
"No, I'm not. Why are you in here watching me anyway? You could help you know." She continued to add clothing to the tub.
Ranma entered the room and took an empty box from against the wall. He frowned and tossed it roughly onto her bed and opened her bedside table, throwing everything in the drawer into the box.
She grabbed the box and with swiftness pulled it out of his reach, "What are you doing? You can't just toss stuff in. You could break something!" Her annoyance with him was growing by the second.
"You asked me to help. I'm helping." he growled.
"Then help me fold the clothes," she threw a pile of laundered shirts to him.
They folded clothes in quiet while Ranma shot Akane contemptuous glances and Akane ignored him. Ranma grunted and mumbled under his breath occasionally, letting her know in spades his disgust. His efforts only added to Akane's attempts to ignore his entire existence. The routine went on for nearly thirty minutes before Akane broke down.
"If you want to say something, Ranma, just say it before I get mad."
"I don't have anything to say," he responded flippantly.
"Then knock it off," she retorted.
Ranma clenched his fists, sick of her and the situation, "Why are you leaving?"
"The university in Nagasaki gave me a full scholarship and the university here didn't. That's why." She answered cooly, seemingly bored of the whole state of affairs.
"No other reason?"
"No other reason."
"You're not trying to get away?"
"Get away from what?"
The quick banter ceased and Ranma chewed on his words, "I don't know. All the mess."
"The fiancées?"
"Yeah."
Akane sighed, "Maybe, a little bit." She stopped at the look on Ranma's face. "I know it's not all your fault, Ranma, and I'm not blaming you, but maybe things here would be better if I went away for a while. Besides the school has a martial arts program and you're always telling me how I need to improve. Now I can."
Ranma said nothing but began to fold the clothes more quickly, not folding as much as wadding them.
"Stop it. Everything is going to be wrinkled when I get there."
Akane reached over and grabbed the shirt he was lumping, but Ranma refused to let go. For a bit they played tug of war with it, each sending evil looks and curses to their counterpart.
"Dammit, Akane, let go. I'm helping!"
"No you're not. You're just trying to make me mad!"
Finally Akane let go, and sat back with satisfaction for a second when fabric snapped him in the face.
"This is stupid," Ranma barked.
"I know you're not happy about me moving, but I have a life to live and I can't do it here. What did you think would happen? " she hollered back.
He froze, unable to answer her question. He never thought too far ahead especially when it came to Akane, but never had he considered this. To be separate from her. The thought of her miles and miles away unnerved him. If she were to be hurt, if someone tried to kidnap her there, if he started having the dreams again and he couldn't run down the hall to make sure she was still there . . .
"Besides it's not like you've said anything!"
"I don't care if you go."
"Then quit acting like it!"
Akane turned away and sat on her bed. She continued to fold clothes on her lap, too frustrated to look at Ranma. Ranma conversely, shocked by those too accurate words of hers, folded the clothes gently. His face softened as her stared at the smooth curve of her back.
"It's just far," he admitted.
Akane turned and looked at him, smiling lightly, "So you do care?"
He sat on the bed, his back to her, and turned his head. He looked at her, really looked, and noticed the yellow shirt she wore, her short fingernails, the wisp of hair that stuck to her face, the tiny freckles around her nose, the graceful line of her arm, the slight dimple in her left cheek, her pointed chin, and those long eyelashes of hers.
"I. . .I . .. I. ." he twiddled his fingers and let out a long, low groan.
"Don't kill yourself there," she sighed, placing her fingers on his shoulder. She had noticed the way his eyes took her in, studied her.
"No. I just . . . It's hard, you know."
"Don't force it," she said with such patience. "I'll wait."
Her hand still rested on his shoulder and he moved his own to cover it. The fear receded a bit, washed back by her subtle acceptance, and for a second it did not bite at him with its ferocity. And he finally told the truth.
"You're the only one I'd wait for."
Ranma's head sunk between his knees; he was so tired, too much so to have these memories. But that is where it all began, the first time he singled her out above the rest. She did go away to the university, stayed for a semester, but things had already progressed too far for them to be separated for long. Damn, how he missed her and now he was there again, but Rori added a shading in his heart.
He wondered how something so vital to him could be cut from him without his feeling anything. Numbness. That was all there was left. Ranma felt an uncontrolled tremor in his left hand and sunk into the comfort of the bed, physically and mentally frozen in the depths of the mattress. He tossed the comforter over his head, shutting out all moonlight.
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
I wanted to share with you guys why I'm writing this story. I thought about not mentioning it, but this story was born from and so tied to real life. About a year ago a cousin of mine who has such a giving heart lost his infant daughter to SIDS. He fell asleep while rocking her to sleep and when he woke up in the morning she had passed on. An autopsy showed no signs of accidental smothering, but I cannot imagine how he must have felt. This story is in no way a biography of what happened to him (he and his wife and five year old daughter dealt with it in the privacy of their home) and are still married and happy, but I wrote this to understand and maybe give myself a small bit of meaning to what happened.
Sorry for the lengthy time between updates. I'm finishing my last semester of grad school and my Masters thesis so time between updates may be a little stretched, but I promise I'll finish. Thanks again for all the reviews. You guys have no idea how uplifting, inspiring, and thought provoking they are. Next chapter I promise I'll recognize everyone who has reviewed so far and comment on them, but I'm afraid I'm short on time. Blame my Theory professor and her difficult assignments!
Please, please remember I am not trying to make Ranma or Akane into hateful small people and that all their words and actions come from grief. This chapter is pretty heavy, but when I sat down to write it this is what came out. So please enjoy.