Mother Time II

A Fiveshot by Allison Illuminated

They didn't talk about it.

They didn't talk about it when Akane crashed at Nabiki's high-rise flat in Daikanyama for the night, leaving Ranma alone to deal with the baby. They didn't talk about it when Akane arrived back home after class the next day with her head held high and a steely glint in her expression – a glint that clearly telecasted to Ranma 'it's not a problem, so why are you looking at me like that?'

They didn't talk about it for the next two weeks either.

But it was okay! Ranma willed himself to forget about it, because Keiko was a little darling, and he was firmlyin the business of not provoking fights with his wife unless he really, truly needed to (or when Akane had her routine identity crisis once every three months and tried to do the cooking). Keiko still needed to be fed and bathed and played with, and the dojo still needed to be cleaned, and the laundry still needed to be done, and the food still needed to be cooked, which meant dishes, and grocery shopping with that absolutely adorablestroller that Kasumi had gifted them for Keiko's baby shower and oh God, Ranma was turning into Kasumi, wasn't he? The thought – which Ranma had while peeling carrots for a curry – was so startling that Ranma dropped both carrot and knife, nearly impaling himself in the process, then accidentally flailed the hot water tap on the sink on, which led to a very uncomfortable few seconds in a too-tight apron and dress (Ranma had started wearing his dresses more often, because really, it was just so convenientto have a clear divide between his dojo clothes and his househusband clothes, and it certainly wasn't like Akane seemed to mind) before he could dive for the cold water and blissfully return himself to girl mode.

Woman mode?

Thinking of his cursed form as a womanmade Ranma feel strange and shivery; it was much easier to keep calling himself – his cursed form – a girl. Much more economical.

In truth, it felt like a complement to be compared to Kasumi these days, as Ranma had blushingly admitted to his sister-in-law a few weeks ago (Kasumi had given Ranma a soft smile and kissed him on the cheek; Akane had given Ranma weird looks for the rest of the day). Ranma had settled into a very comfortable relationship with Kasumi and Nabiki once he had fulfilled his honor and formally joined their family; he had never had sisters before, but he had grown much closer to them both, to the point where Ranma was perhaps closer to Kasumi than Akane. Nabiki still seemed somewhere between perturbed and amused by everything Ranma did, and she still fleeced him within an inch of his life for insider tips on dates for Akane, and Christmas presents for Akane, and apologies for Akane ("Jeez, Saotome, sometimes I feel like I'm the one married to my sister," Nabiki had groused once), but Ranma knew that Nabiki had slowly grown to love him too.

There were only a few secrets that Ranma still kept from Akane these days – a few tricks of the art he had sworn only to pass down to his heir, some things that Pops had done back in the Bad Old Days that would only make his wife helplessly angry. But there was one secret – one illicit, treacherous secret that Ranma kept locked away, wishing that he could confide in Akane, or better, Kasumi, but refused to so much as acknowledge to himself, lest the wonderful life and family Ranma had found for himself come crashing down around him.

Ranma hadn't been certain if it was a memory or a dream, at first. It had come to him in fuzzy impressions – memories of sharp pain and a strange ooey-gooey glow of contentment that felt equally strange in his chest – lingering in hazy recollections in the back of his consciousness. Ranma had thought it was something from his childhood at first; it wouldn't be the first old-timey memory that had gotten all weird and hard to remember. But as the memory resolved and clarified over the years, coming into clearer focus as it repatriated itself from the lurking depths of his mind, it had become apparent that the memory featured Kasumi and Akane – and what Ranma remembered was… startling.

It was a violent memory, one that had gotten knocked loose by not one but two blows to the head, but that wasn't unusual for back then. Ranma was quietly grateful that Akane would never hit him anymore, not since the Crying Incident (sobbing on the floor after taking a punch, in boy-mode, was perhaps one of the most mortifying incidents of his life). The violence, Ranma had always remembered; it was hard to forget that concussion, which had been nasty enough to keep him in bed for three days after he'd passed out later that night.

But underneath the violence, Ranko had found something… soft. And surprising. A moment of warmth and vulnerability amid the tumultuous Fiancee Period, like a little ember burning in a tidal wave of madness.

Kasumi's careful hand pressing against his cheek. Akane quietly letting him into her room to sleep for the night. A moment in the garden, where Ranma had settled down to smell a blooming flower. Cooking with her favorite apron in the kitchen, at least two years before it had become her favorite apron. A fleeting moment when Ranma and Nabiki had exchanged a glance, that first moment when Nabiki had given him that look (Ranma was still afraid of that look, though it didn't bother him as much as it used to). Ranma remembered his favorite overalls, the ones that he still missed after they'd been ruined in a fight after the failed wedding.

In the quiet moments, rocking in Keiko's nursery with his little girl sleeping against his chest, Ranma remembered the fleeting sensations – so brief, so faint, that he might have imagined them – of a beautiful white dress spilling around his knees, blowing in the springtime winds.

It should have been shocking, it should have been alien. The memories were distorted enough that Ranma could pretend he didn't have them, if he so chose. But most days Ranma didn't want to pretend anymore.

They reminded him of Kasumi. Of his beautiful wife.

Those memories reminded Ranma more of his current life than anything else he could remember from his entire adolescence.

Ranma just didn't understand why.

Why had he forgotten such treasured memories? Why had he been in his girl mode? Why had everyone in his life (except Kasumi, and maybe Akane when she wasn't crushing his head into rocks) been so cruel to him? How could Ranma admit to remembering such things, if last time-

Last time…

A tear trickled down Ranma's cheek. He came back to himself. Ranma wasn't then anymore – he was now, sitting on the floor of Keiko's nursery, and Keiko was sitting between his legs, staring up at him with wide eyes.

"Mama?" Keiko asked, pointing up at his tears with a chubby hand.

Ranma scowled at his daughter, swiping angrily at his moment of weakness. "Who do ya think you're looking at?" he said. "I ain't crying."

Keiko innocently tilted her head.

"...And I'm arguing with the baby," Ranma groaned. "Why am I arguing with the baby again? This is exactlywhat 'Kane told me not to do."

("Stop losing arguments with our one-year-old daughter!" Akane exclaimed, hands on her hips.

Ranma clutched the enormous giraffe plushie, which was taller than he was, closer to his body. "But she liked it, 'Kane!"

"You spend 10,000 yen on a giraffe!")

Ranma took Keiko up in his arms, and he laughed softly when Keiko did her very best to wipe away his tears, accidentally shoving her fist into his eye in the process. "Easy there, brat," Ranma murmured, pushing her little hands out of the way to wipe at his own tears. "It's okay, I'm okay. Mama's fine, Kei-chan."

Keiko stared mournfully at Ranma, babbling something that could almost have been a word. "Ah!" she exclaimed and pointed at his face.

Ranma couldn't help but smile at her persistence. "Mama's not sad, darling," he said softly. "Mama… Mama's remembering a good thing. See? All good."

Babbling some more, Keiko broke out into a gummy smile, and Ranma beamed back; he wasn't sure his heart had ever been so full in his life. Keiko laughed at his smile, and wasn't that the most extraordinary thing? "Mama!"

Ranma giggled, peppering his daughter's face with kisses. There was something incredibly endearing about trying to hold a conversation with a little human who only knew a single word. "And I love you too," Ranma promised, tickling their noses together then giving Keiko a big hug.

"Mama," Keiko said in a self-satisfied tone, like she'd reached the conclusion she'd sought all along. "Mamamamamamama…"

Humming pleasantly as the ghosts of the past drifted away, Ranma leaned back against Keiko's crib and cradled his babbling daughter against his chest, content to stay in the here and now. He had the life he'd always wanted – figuring out the mysteries of his teenage years could wait for another day.


Akane was always peaceful while she slept – her eyes closed, arms curled against her chest, her short hair drifting around her head on the pillow. Ranma liked to watch her sleep, but Akane knew that; over the years, it had become evident that Ranma couldn't quite sleep through the night in the same way as his wife, and though she'd found it creepy at first (Ranma had spent a few nights in the guest room), Akane had grown accustomed, perhaps even fond, to the way her sleeping habits endeared her to Ranma.

It was soothing, watching the gentle rise and fall of her breath, getting to watch over the woman he loved with as much vigilance and attention as Akane deserved. It was soothing, knowing that Akane was in bed beside Ranma when the nightmares about everything – Saffron, the old fiancees, his terrible childhood – had him waking up in cold sweats in the middle of the night.

Ranma laid in bed, toying with the end of his pillow. He was in girl mode again. Woman mode. Wasn't that the strangest thing?

I dunno why my thoughts get all weird at night, Ranma wondered, tracing the peaceful lines of Akane's face as the moonlight made her skin glow. She's beautiful, ain't it? I don't get what me being a woman has to do with it at all.

His thoughts stilled when Akane let out a soft breath, cuddling deeper into her pillow.

"I can feel you watching me, Ranma."

Akane opened her eyes, which shone in the dark. Ranma sighed, reaching over to take Akane's hand, which he took carefully in his own, winding their fingers together. Akane gave his hand a little squeeze.

"Sorry," Ranma said. "Couldn't sleep. I still-"

"Wake up in the middle of the night cause it feels like Keiko needs to get fed?" Akane asked wryly, shifting up for a better vantage to look at Ranma, their blanket shifting around them.

"Yeah."

Akane gave a quiet laugh. "Yeah. Me too."

Ranma sighed again, and it came out a lot shakier than he'd intended.

"Are we ever gonna talk about it?"

"It?"

"You know what."

"What's there to talk about, Ranma-chan?" Akane said softly. "I could tell you what I have on my mind; but you're the one who takes care of our Kei-chan every day. If you… If you feel more comfortable with our daughter calling you Mama, then I understand. You don't have to put it into words."

"Understand what?" Ranma said in a helpless tone. "I ain't got a clue what I'm supposed to understand. And I- I-"

Akane shook her head, her eyes glistening with some undefinable emotion, and reached out to lay a single finger on Ranma's lips. "Husband," she whispered. "I respect your choices, Ranma. I will never make you justify yourself to me again – not anymore."

Something vast passed over Ranma's heart. "Akane…"

The smallest smile crossed Akane's lips – a crinkle of the eyes, a slight tilt of the head, carrying an incomprehensible depth of feeling across the space between them. It was their bed, their haven. They were safe here. "Do you realize," Akane asked in her gentlest tone, "that you are a woman right now, my dearest husband?"

He trembled, but Akane only tightened her grip on his hand.

"Yes," Ranma whispered.

Akane watched Ranma with the deepest of affections, then leaned in and gave him a long, slow kiss, her lips lingering on his long after the pressure left them, raising her hand to sweep away an errant strand of red hair. Ranma stared at Akane with wide eyes for a long moment after. Akane smiled.

"Good," she said. "Just making sure you knew."

"I- I know."

Yawning, Akane shuffled closer to her husband and tucked herself around him, drawing him into an easy embrace. When Ranma gave his wife the snuggles she wanted, Akane hummed in approval, laying her lips against the crook of his neck. Not quite kissing, not quite touching. But warm. There.

I love you, she didn't say.

I love you, he didn't say.

"I know you do," Akane said as they both drifted back to sleep.


It was a bright day outside, and the light streamed gaily through the open screen into the main room of his parents' house, falling down upon the tatami where Ranma, Keiko, and Nodoka had taken up their afternoon. Nodoka wore one of her more elegant kimonos, a lovely blue silk covered in chrysanthemums, and she sat at the table peeling edamame into a wooden bowl for Keiko's dinner; out on the mat, Ranma sat cross-legged with a big smile on his face as Keiko crawled around before him, fetching wooden blocks with a big bright smile.

"Do you see that one?" Ranma asked, his voice hitting an excited note. "Do you see it, Kei-chan? Do you think you can go get it for me?"

Keiko gave Ranma a thousand-watt smile. "Hai!" she exclaimed, then immediately crawled off toward the block.

Nodoka hid a smile behind her sleeve as Keiko grabbed the block, raised it high above her head, and chucked it directly at Ranma's head. Ranma dodged the potentially fatal blow and beamed at Keiko. "Good job!" he praised. "What about that one? Do you think you could go get that one?"

"Hai!" Keiko shrieked, giggling in delight.

The next block almost punched a hole in Nodoka's screens, so Ranma snagged it out of the air before it could break the wall.

"Good job, Keiko," Ranma praised, putting a hand on his daughter's head. Keiko let out a little humming laugh, rocking in delight, and Ranma scratched at her scalp. Keiko babbled and happily waved her arms. "Good girl! You're such a good girl!"

"Don't treat your daughter like a dog, son," Nodoka said idly, setting a shelled edamame aside.

"Dog!"

Nodoka gave Keiko a warm look. "You'll make a wonderful housewife someday, Keiko-chan," she said. "Such an intelligent young girl. I'm sure you'll be just as wonderful at it as your father."

"Ma…" Ranma complained, scowling at his mother.

"Yes, yes." Brushing off his concern, Nodoka rose to her feet with the bowl of edamame, which she moved to carry toward the kitchen. "Truly, Ranma, I don't know why you're so worried about my influence on your wonderful little family," Nodoka noted airily, pausing at the door of the kitchen to look back at Ranma and Keiko. "My parenting seems to have turned out a wonderful housewife already."

Ranma laughed in disbelief. "Yeah, like that wasn't the opposite of what you wanted for me!"

Nodoka chuckled at the observation and disappeared into the kitchen. Ranma got the distinct impression that he had lost a spar before it had even begun.

"If she keeps telling Kei-chan that she's gonna be a housewife someday, then chances are that Kei-chan will wind up being a man," Ranma muttered to himself, crossing his arms. "Hell, maybe that's what she wants. I wouldn't put it past her to still be trying to figure out how to get a man-among-men out of this family!"

There would be absolutely no gender around his daughter, not on his watch. No sirree. Keiko Saotome would be living a wonderful, normal, Jusenkyo-free life, or else Ranma would track down the Amazons and marry Shampoo.

The afternoon passed pleasantly enough. Ranma and Keiko played together for a while longer, then when Keiko grew sleepy, Ranma took Keiko into his childhood room and put the snoozing girl down for a nap. Joining his mother in the kitchen, Ranma and Nodoka made dinner together in matching aprons, gossiping over errands ("Can you believe the price of milk these days?") and the Tendos ("Your sister-in-law is never going to get married if she insists on taking that horrid executive job, Ranma dear-" "Yeah, well I ain't gonna be the one to get in Nabiki's way!"). Genma would be out late, so it would only be the three generations of Saotome women for dinner – not that Ranma counted in that, persay, but there was something resonant about being a woman in the presence of both his mother and his daughter.

They finished up dinner, and Ranma polished off their plates while Nodoka went off to wake Keiko from her nap. It had been a rather busy few weeks for Nodoka, who had gone off to Kansai for a while to visit an ill childhood friend, and it had nearly slipped Ranma's mind that Nodoka hadn't been around Keiko yet while Keiko had been talking.

Ranma was completely unprepared for the shock on his mother's face when, as Nodoka walked back into the dining room with Keiko in her arms, where Ranma had set out the table for the three of them, Keiko took one look at Ranma and shrieked, "Mama!"

Nodoka's gaze whipped toward Ranma. Her eyes were wide.

Paralyzed by her sudden movement, suddenly struck by a visceral flashback of a katana in his mother's hands, Ranma flinched. Hard. Hard enough that Nodoka noticed, and hard enough that Nodoka's expression fell, a deep expression of shame crossing her face.

Keiko was just irritated at being ignored. "Mama!" she insisted.

That insistence snapped Ranma out of his fear: "Mama's coming." Unable to look Nodoka in the eye, Ranma hurried over to take his daughter, hitching Keiko up on his hip and carrying her over to sit in his lap. "Grandma made you edamame, Kei-chan," Ranma told Keiko, willing his voice not to shake, and he almost managed it. "Don't you like edamame, Keiko?"

"Hai!" Keiko shrieked, making grabby fists at the bowl of edamame. Ranma chuckled and picked up the rubber baby spoon.

"Ranma," Nodoka whispered.

Ranma allowed his gaze to flit briefly, just for the slightest moment, toward Nodoka, before returning his attentions to feeding the infant in his lap. "Yes, Mother?" he asked, his voice carefully level.

He waited for an answer, but there was no answer forthcoming. They sat in somewhat awkward silence for a few minutes, neither of them eating their own dinners, as the primary task of feeding the child went first. After a bit, the edamame was gone, and so was Keiko's rice; Keiko had drunk most of the milk in her sippy cup, and now she squirmed in Ranma's lap, shooting longing looks toward her blocks.

"You want to go play?" Ranma asked softly.

Keiko looked up at her and gave her an earnest nod. Ranma laughed.

"Well, go on, then!"

As Keiko crawled away toward her toys, Ranma and Nodoka were left alone at the table, their food still untouched between them. Nodoka's knuckles were white where she clenched them against her blue kimono; her shimmering eyes were as steely and unyielding as the sharp angles of the chopsticks in her bun.

"Ranma," Nodoka said again, sharper this time.

There had been a time when Ranma hadn't known his mother. He hadn't been given the chance. But he knew her now, and she knew him – and Ranma knew that this time, there would be no escaping his pledge, the one he had been running from since he was barely older than Keiko.

"Yes, Ma?" Ranma said. He tried not to sound too resigned.

Something broke in Nodoka's expression. Nodoka slumped a little, her proud shoulders falling, and she bowed her head; perhaps once Ranma would not have appreciate the difference between anguish and fury, but now, now he could see it in the trembling of her knuckles, the very first hints of age lines in her beautiful face. Those little details, the ones his teenaged boy self would have never seen – they hit Ranma far harder than such a minute thing had any right to. Genma had taught him to block punches and misdirect kicks – Ranma would have preferred fury to the miserable compassion in his mother's eyes.

Nodoka rose from her bow, and it was only because her usual form was so graceful that Ranma could see how it was forced. "Ranma-" she began, then stopped as her voice broke.

"You don't have to do this, Ma," Ranma whispered. "We ain't gotta-"

"We do," Nodoka said, leaving no room left for argument. "Ranma. My- My child. I know that I have made… egregious mistakes in the process of raising you. I have done harms which can never be healed or taken back."

It was a statement of fact.

"Yes," Ranma said.

Nodoka nodded in agreement – all the apologies had already been given, and there was nothing more to be said. "I require your understanding that I would never do anything to hurt you, Ranma," she said quietly. "I- I must know that you understand that you could walk out of this house and demand an honor killing of your father in the middle of the street, and I still would not raise my hand or my voice against you. There is nothing that you could do that would make me break the trust that you have put back in me over the last few years."

"Yes," Ranma said again, because it was his duty to do so.

"It is because you have placed this trust in me," Nodoka said in a shaking voice, "that I would ask of you, my son, that you will listen to me well when I will ask this question, and that your answer to my question resolves this terrible- this distance which lays between us- I- I-"

"Ma."

Nodoka stared at Ranma with teary eyes. "Yes, Ranma?"

"Ask your question," Ranma said softly, his voice a sigh. "I'll answer it. I ain't gotta- We ain't gotta pussyfoot around it, Ma. There ain't no reason to be polite or vague. Just… Just ask." Nodoka stared at him in disbelief, and Ranma gave her a weak smile. "I think I'm tired of pretending like it ain't there, anyway."

The silence of the uneaten meal stretched between them, broken only by Keiko's soft babbles.

"Do I have a daughter?" Nodoka asked.

It sounded so simple, spoken out loud. Such a remarkably simple thing, to have caused so much pain, so much trouble, so very much turmoil in his life. In his mind, it had brought nothing but pain to everyone who Ranma touched. But spoken aloud… There was peace in the room. And Keiko, his beautiful daughter, whom Ranma was terrified of bringing to harm, seemed completely unbothered by it all. Keiko simply kept on playing with her blocks, singing to herself with nonsense words. She went untroubled in the presence of such impossibly. If anything, Keiko was happy. It made the answer Ranma gave seem so easy.

"Yes."

A tear dripped down Nodoka's cheek, but she seemed incapable of turning her gaze away from Ranma. Ranma didn't know why she felt like crying too.

"My daughter," Nodoka whispered. "My daughter."

Ranma let out a soft laugh, looking down at her hands, folded together in the lap of her dress. She hadn't even thought about it, when she'd put it on this morning. It had been as easy as the Art. As soft as steel on silk. "Yes," she whispered again, closing her eyes in quiet shame. "I am."

Nodoka looked like she wanted nothing more than to round the table and sweep Ranma into a tight hug, but she restrained herself with the coiled grace of a noblewoman, merely raising her gaze to get a better look at her. "My God, you're a mother," Nodoka breathed, raising one uncertain hand before letting it rest on the table. "Oh. Oh, Ranma. What have we done?"

"I mean, you got me to Jusenkyo eventually," Ranma said, trying to crack the mood with humor. "I guess I'm thankful for that, y'know? I doubt I'd ever have found a- a solution if I hadn't."

Nodoka let out a bark of a laugh that was suspiciously close to a sob, but they were both too dignified to mention such a thing.

"I got Akane and Keiko," Ranma murmured, reaching across the table to lay one of her hands over Nodoka's. Nodoka clung to it like a lifeline. "That's all that matters to me, Ma. I- I did it, y'know? I got where I gotta be. I wouldn't change a damn thing."

A sharp exhale left Nodoka, and she shook her head, withdrawing from her moment of weakness. Ranma let her to take back her hand. To collect herself, compose herself. Nodoka became formidable again, and only when she had done so did Ranma indicate for her to speak. "Does- Does anyone-" Nodoka began, her voice scratchy. "Have you been keeping-"

"No," Ranma murmured. "No, I ain't- I think Akane knows, and if she knows, then I'd bet Nabiki and Kasumi and a whole bunch of others do to, but I ain't never told anybody. I never- I never- You're the first, Ma. Cause you're- you're-"

"Your mother?" Nodoka asked softly.

Ranma ignored the dampness on her cheeks. "Yeah. That."

They sat together for a long moment as the sun set outside, the dusk beginning to creep in through the open screen; long shadows that crept beneath the round table and pooled at their knees. Ranma bowed her head so Nodoka wouldn't have to see her tears. But Nodoka was there – she was there, and she wasn't killing Ranma, and she wasn't throwing her out of the house or concussing her in koi ponds either. Nodoka loved her.

And Keiko-chan loved her too.

"Should we eat?" Ranma asked roughly.

"Oh, yes," Nodoka said. "But the food might be cold."

Ranma picked up her chopsticks and lifted the lid off the pot of fried rice they'd made together. It wasn't hot – but it wasn't cold, either. "Doesn't matter," she murmured. "I'd be hungry either way."

They served out two plates, and readjusted their water glasses to make the table pretty again. Nodoka glanced briefly at Ranma, smiling for a moment when they locked eyes, and Ranma smiled back. They looked so very much alike. Sometimes when Ranma smiled at the mirror, it would hurt somewhere she didn't know how to heal. But Ranma could feel it healing now.

"Itadekimasu," Nodoka murmured, raising her glass so it tilted ever-so.

Ranma set her hands by her plate and smiled. "Itadekimasu."


[A/N] I wanted to write something beautiful. This story was a blessing to me.

I don't have much to say here, really; only that I'm humbled by how strongly you all responded to the first chapter, and how pleased I am to give you all another. Thanks to the Ranma Discord for making this happen lol; your enthusiasm truly is a good motivator. And thanks to LesbianKeys, NobleHeroine (let's be honest, you're about 50% responsible for me getting this chapter out), Minalia, irisvirus, Peppermint_Witch, ayellowbirds, JaquiK, Beedok, wanderer20, RoxyArietis, FarronFaye, Foxoftheasterisk, aceina, Cromalin20, DianaBialaska, DBNY96, mayaabomination, SamuelJamuel, James460, Sephirotho, vechloran, Kakyouin Noriaki, Mizuno Tenshi2, Violets West, and the about fifty of you who linked into Discord through this story. This might be the fastest one of my fics has ever gotten to one hundred kudos on AO3. I'm blown away.

Oh, and Chapter Twenty-Nine of Gender Sleepy is up now, if you want to go read another 100k of my writing to tide yourself over for Chapter Three. Let me know what you all think.

Love, Allie