Mother Time III

A Fiveshot by Allison Illuminated

Keiko loved eating natto.

It was the messiest food Ranma make for her daughter, and Keiko couldn't eat without getting it all over her face and clothes; as such, it was one of the last foods that Ranma still fed to Keiko herself. Secretly, Ranma knew it was half of the reason she made it so often. Keiko was growing up so fast, and Ranma felt like she could barely keep up with the changes – selfishly, Ranma wished that she could feed her daughter forever, if only so that she could see the big gummy smile on Keiko's face when she ate a bite she liked.

But her baby was growing, her baby was getting older. Someday there would school, then boys (or girls!), then fiancees (Ranma shuddered at the accursed thought), and then Keiko wouldn't need her anymore. At the thought, Ranma had rushed to her feet and scooped Keiko up into a close hug, frantically staring deep into her brown eyes.

Keiko stared back at Ranma in confusion. "Mama?"

Ranma smiled weakly at her daughter, bouncing Keiko on her hip, and gave a completely normal little poke to Keiko's cheek. "You ain't gonna run off to China for a decade with your other Mama, are ya?" she asked. "Or- or put me in a zoo! Or put your old man- er, your old mam, I suppose! You ain't gonna… Gonna…"

Trailing off, Ranma realized how absurd she sounded – making demands of a one-year-old! And for what? Cause she was what, scared of being abandoned just like her mother? Ranma laughed weakly, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, and looked away.

"Nuh-uh!" Keiko exclaimed, oblivious to Ranma's sadness.

Ranma sniffled and shook her head, looking at Keiko with a watery smile. She fought back the urge to demand that her one-year-old daughter sign a contract putting down such a solemn and important agreement into unbreakable terms. Stupid Saotome genetics.

"Thanks, Kei-chan," Ranma murmured.

She kissed Keiko on the cheek. Keiko giggled.

After their lunch, they disembarked together to the couch, where Ranma and Keiko played an intense and rousing bout of Martial Arts Peekaboo (Keiko excelled at the 'Shrieking Reaction Strike,' a hidden technique of the Saotome school). Ranma wore a yellow sundress she had come to love, the one that clung real tight up top and got all spinny down low, and let her red ponytail fall over one shoulder; she felt happy, comfortable in her own skin, and when Akane had walked past her out of their bedroom that morning, her wife had lingered a second too long on her breasts, a deliciously perverted expression on her face, then had called Ranma 'cute' with a gobsmacked sort of voice that promised an enjoyable night when Akane got home. Ranma wore the compliment around like a glowing badge of honor for the rest of the morning.

Now Keiko had drifted off into her old world, halfway between wakefulness and sleepy, where she laid on the couch and played with the threads of a blanket, babbling to herself in her own language. Ranma had gotten sleepy watching her, but rather than drift off on the couch – which had become ever so easy after Akane's pregnancy – Ranma got up and fetched the laundry, which she began to dutifully fold back into the basket, smoothing down the folds of her pretty yellow dress.

The task was still occupying her when Akane let herself into the house. "Tadaima!" she called, her voice drifting into the living room.

"Okaeri!" Ranma softly called back, loud enough that she knew Akane would hear but not loud enough to disturb Keiko.

When had Akane started to take Ranma's breath away? Okay – all of the beatdowns didn't count. This wasn't a bad winded, wasn't a 'Pops, ya hit me three too many times again' winded. It was something fluttery, the way that Ranma saw Akane smile in the festival light, or flip her hair beneath the morning sun, or kick the living daylights out of a stupid boy, and suddenly there was nothing on Ranma's mind but her, nothing but Akane and that ooey-gooey feeling of contentment in Ranma's gut. It was like everything Akane did was the answer to a question, the punctuation mark that closed out Ranma's fears, like a promise, like a prayer, like after years of running and training and trekking on the road, of asking herself 'What did I do to deserve this?,' there was something waiting for her at the end of it all, and it was Akane, Akane, it was Akane every time; 'Good things,' Akane whispered at night, 'You deserve good things, Ranma-kun.' Sometimes looking at Akane was enough alone to make Ranma believe it.

But today Akane had a job interview, and she had worn a suit; a slim-fitted, Nabiki-approved gray business suit that made her look tall and handsome and delicious. Akane had been in a rush that morning, and Ranma hadn't gotten a good look at her, but now Ranma found herself absolutely speechless. Akane set down her briefcase and loosened her tie, leaning against the doorway to the living room; she wore a lopsided smile at the sight of her wife and her daughter on the couch, a little coy hint of a smirk at the sight of Ranma doing the laundry, and Ranma blushed at the way Akane's eyes had darkened, that little thrill of humiliation she still felt whenever she got caught doing something feminine. But two could play at that game.

Rising to her feet, Ranma put on her best flirty eyes and sauntered over to Akane, grinning through her warm adoration. "Well, don't you look handsome," Ranma admired, running a slow hand up the sleek curve of her lapel.

Akane stared at Ranma, a sudden and mischievous hunger in her eyes, and drew her closer by the hip; the kiss was everything Ranma had wanted all day, and Ranma melted into it, pressing herself up against Akane's body. Akane swept a loose lock of hair from Ranma's face as she drew away. Her short hair was tousled, enough so that it stood up and swooshed in the most satisfying way, framing Akane's strong jaw and making Akane look taller; the hair plus the suit had an effect on Ranma, and Ranma hardly cared enough to not admit it anymore.

"Well," Akane murmured in a low tone, gently letting her fingers rest on Ranma's chin. "Doesn't my cute little wife know how dangerous it is, saying things like that while she's wearing that dress?"

Ranma didn't know what was most thrilling about that sentence, but she wasn't one to back down from a challenge. "Maybe she's counting on it," Ranma said boldly, smiling up at Akane in a way that she hoped made her look kissable.

She got her kiss, and it was just as good as the first.

"What's Keiko up to?" Akane asked.

Ranma turned back to look at the couch, and Akane turned with her; Keiko was sprawled out on her back with her hands flung outward and her mouth wide open, snoring in a beam of sunlight.

"Being a c-cat, apparently," Ranma said, only stumbling a little over the word.

Akane chuckled. "Her heritage is coming out."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up."

"Oh, I am."

"You do that, tomboy."

Shaking her head fondly, Akane brushed off the memory of Neko-Ranma – a menace which had thankfully been defeated through the power of therapy – and wandered over to the couch, gently scooping Keiko up into her arms. Ranma tried to play it cool, and probably failed; there was something incredibly endearing about the sight of Akane in a suit holding their daughter. "I'll go put her down for a nap," Akane said fondly, rocking Keiko as Keiko woke up a little and yawned, snuggling closer against her mother's shoulder. "Do you want to sit down on the couch, dear? Put the laundry aside, I can finish it later."

Ranma smiled fondly at Akane. "Yeah, sure," she said. "I'll grab you a beer."


They kissed for a long while, lazily enjoying each other's company; and when they grew tired of that, they settled for laying back against the couch arm together, propped up against the cushions, Ranma tucked away beneath Akane's arm. Soun had protested when they'd brought the couch in from a cheapo furniture auction, but they'd both wanted to modernize the dojo – and besides, who didn't love to come and sit on a nice couch after a long day at school? Akane had declared it her favorite article of furniture in the dojo months ago, and so the couch stayed.

Snuggling in, Ranma laid her head on Akane's chest and let herself relax to the pulse of her heartbeat.

Akane sighed, holding the back of her hand up before her, admiring something of it: her wedding ring, perhaps, or maybe the smoothness of her skin. "Keiko still hasn't called me Mama, you know."

"Really?" Ranma asked. "Not even once?"

"No," Akane murmured, her wistful amusement tinged with sadness. "It's only you, Ranma-chan. I suppose that there's no harm in acknowledging that you're Mama now."

There was no point in apologizing – it would only make Akane feel worse.

"So what does she call you?" Ranma asked.

Akane barked a laugh, pitching her head back against the armrest. "Nothing!" she exclaimed. "That's the thing! She'll babble and smile for me, and she'll hug me, and I know she loves me- it's- God, it's not like I'm questioning if my one-year-old daughter loves me, she was inside of me for nine months- it's just-" Akane shook her head, wiping at her eyes with the heel of her palm. "Dammit. It's nothing. I don't know."

Ranma shook her head, drawing herself upright. She reached out to gently swipe an errant tear from Akane's cheek. "It's not nothing, 'Kane," Ranma said softly. "You want our daughter to call you Mama. Or Mom, or Mother, or something."

"I'd take anything at this point," Akane said.

An evil thought crossed Ranko's mind, and Ranko offered Akane a sly smile. "If our daughter insists on calling me Mama, maybe she should start calling you Daddy."

Paling instantly at the thought, Akane shoved Ranko off to the side, glaring through her furious blush as Ranko snickered at her plight. "Don't even joke about that!" Akane shouted. "You'll tempt fate!"

Laughing, Ranko batted her eyes at Akane. "Are you sure you don't like that, Daddy?"

Akane groaned like a woman condemned.

It took a while for Akane to sulk and for Ranma to get all of the mischievous energy out of her system, but after a while, they found their way to each other, and Ranma snuggled back into Akane's side. The late afternoon passed quietly – Ranma knew she should start dinner, but she was so incredibly comfortable, and the last thing she wanted was to leave Akane's side. And Akane knew it – knew her – and when Ranma let out a quiet little sound, something that the ordinary person would never have read as needy, Akane only smiled and kissed the top of her head, pulling her closer. Ranma sighed in blissful contentment, her yellow dress crumpling around her legs.

"Ranma," Akane said. "You didn't correct me when I called you my wife."

"No," Ranma said.

Akane nodded and stroked her fingers through Ranma's hair. Letting her eyes drift shut, Ranma let herself drift off in her comfort.

"You're a woman, aren't you?" Akane asked.

Ranma breathed out, letting her hand fall back against her yellow dress.

"Yeah," she said softly.

Akane nodded.

"Okay."

And there was nothing else that needed to be said, nothing else they could have said that hadn't been said years ago. It had never been simpler. Akane kept stroking through Ranma's hair, and she gave her another little kiss on the top of the head, and that was that.

That was that.


A week later, Ranma was sitting at the bar at Ucchan's after closing with Ukyo and Konatsu, sharing a drink on one of her rare nights away from Keiko. Akane had come home from university in a funk and had demanded time alone with Keiko, some hairbrained scheme about convincing Keiko to call her Mama, and Ranma had enough sense not to interfere with that activity. Instead, she had an empty plate of okonomiyaki, a full belly, wonderful company, and a nice cupful of sake in front of her, and she was far, far away from Akane's crisis of faith about her parenting skills.

"Okay, Ucchan, give it to me straight," Ranma said, setting down her sake and laying her hands on the bar. "How long have I been kidding myself about all this gender stuff?"

Konatsu giggled (Konatsu was a lightweight, Ukyo and Ranma had been horrified to learn once they'd convinced Konatsu that drinking alcohol wouldn't cause Ukyo to cast her out onto the street). On the far side of the bar, Ukyo leaned forward and lifted her sake cup, her lips twisting in amusement at her predicament. Ranma looked between her two closest friends and groaned. She let her head thunk against the counter.

"That bad?"

"Oh, Sugar," Ukyo said. "We've been waiting for months for you to catch up."

"Years!" Konatsu exclaimed.

"Ucchan…" Ranma whined, staring pathetically up at her best friend, her ponytail flopping out along the bar beside her. "Couldn't ya have told me?"

"Please, like you'd ever have listened to me."

She was right, and oh boy did Ranma hate to admit that.

"Speak for yourself," Konatsu said. "I thought I was being pretty obvious when I took you out to those hot springs last year with just the two of us on a retreat to 'discover your inner woman.' I mean, we spent a whole weekend doing nothing but talk about how to bring out our repressed femininity!"

"I thought I was there for moral support!"

"You won the award for their most distinguished speaker! Everyone there agreed that you had practically blossomed overnight into the most perfect and delicate blossom of womanhood!"

"I'm really good at moral support," Ranma boasted, doing her best to hide her blush.

Konatsu sighed.

"Only you, Ranchan," Ukyo said.

The sake was sweet but it didn't last long; the buzz was nice, but Ranma knew she'd have a headache when she went back home to deal with the inevitable aftermath of Akane's little parenting venture, be it that night or in the morning. It was a distraction either way. Ranma let out a discontented noise, pressing her palm to her forehead, and leaned back to look at the ceiling.

"Man…"

Ukyo leaned forward over the counter, leaning on her elbow, tapping her fingers against her cheek; she had one of her usual big white bows in her hair, and she'd dressed more feminine today, wistful almost. "It's not that bad, Ranma," Ukyo said gently, a kindness in her voice that Ranma still wasn't quite used to hearing. "You've been obvious, yeah, but it wasn't always obvious. I don't think any of us really saw it until after you'd married Akane. Natsu and I figured it out ages ago, cause, y'know, first hand experience and all that-"

"I knew for ages," Konatsu said proudly. "You never had a worry with me, Ranchan! I always knew you were my people."

Ranma didn't know what was more endearing: the certainty and pride in Konatsu's voice or the way that Konatsu had picked up Ukyo's little nickname for him over the years. She wasn't even wrong – Ranma and Konatsu could be two peas in a pod, once they started riffing off of each other, and Ranma truly had no idea how she'd failed to notice Konatsu in any deep or meaningful way until after the failed wedding. Everyone else loved her, but Konatsu, Konatsu just understood.

"Thanks, 'Natsu," Ranma said in a soft voice.

Konatsu beamed, shifting her barstool closer to Ranma so she could lean her head against her shoulder. Ranma smiled at the sleepy weight of her drunk friend.

"Akane came to me a month or two after she married you," Ukyo continued, her quiet voice carrying through the dim restaurant, lingering over the empty booths. "She had a whole crisis of faith, Ranma – she was, God, she had gotten herself all worked up, convinced herself that you were lying to her. But I told her it's not a lie, it's survival. You did what you had to do to survive eighteen years under Genma Saotome's thumb, Ranma. Nobody can change that. And it's been more and more obvious the longer you've been free of it all – the chaos, the fiancees, that whole mess. I hate to break it to you, Ranchan, but you're happy-"

Ranma let out a wet giggle, and Konatsu snuggled closer with a yawn.

"You are," Ukyo murmured fondly. "And when you're happy, you act more feminine. It gets pretty obvious that you're a woman at heart. And I'll tell ya, Sugar – ever since you've gotten that precious baby girl into your life, you've been almost disgustingly happy. Keiko really brings out the mother in you."

Konatsu made a noise of agreement.

Sniffling, Ranma leaned into Konatsu's embrace, taking comfort in the kunoichi's tendency to seek out human contact like a homing beacon. "Am I really that obvious?"

"A little," Konatsu murmured, stroking comforting circle up and down her arm.

"We know what to look for," Ukyo agreed. "But, I mean, come on, hon. By the time Nodoka Saotome is noticing her manly-man son acting like a full-time woman, it gets pretty obvious."

"We all agreed not to talk about it," Konatsu said.

"More like we dragged the whole elder generation into the dojo and ordered them to let you figure it out at your own rate. With noJusenkyo curses or anything else."

"They were all very cooperative."

"Genma immediately tried to kidnap you to send you to a finishing school."

Konatsu smiled sweetly at Ukyo. "Saotome-san was very cooperative after I politely informed him of what would happen to him, his house, his job, and all of his money if he wasn't."

"We all agreed that we would give you the space to figure it out at your own rate, so as best to avoid reigniting the Dark Times – and also because Nabiki made bets on how long and how far you could push your femininity before people couldn't ignore your womanhood anymore," Ukyo said, rolling her eyes. "Kasumi made a lot of money off of you for figuring it out when you did."

"I had so much faith in you," Konatsu sighed.

"Oh, please," Ukyo scoffed. "This girl was literally dressing, acting, and talking 24/7 like a woman, her daughter calls her Mama, and she's still able to call herself a man. At that point, being a man might as well not mean anything anymore!"

Ranma sniffled, laughing at her own emotions, and shook her head. "Did it ever?"

Ukyo and Konatsu exchanged a meaningful glance, one so loaded with feeling that the only way Ranma could interpret it was pride. She felt shivery; she felt strange; she felt those things an awful lot, these days. But it felt like Ranma was coming to something, like she had made some great journey. Like she had arrived. And when Konatsu gave Ranma a happy drunk smile, and Ukyo reached across the bar to take her hands, Ranma had never felt more at home in her entire life.

"See? Now you're starting to get it," Ukyo said.


[A/N] I adore this fic.

Thanks to NobleHeroine, irisvirus, DianaBialaska, Sucy_Manbavaran, Beedok, FarronFaye, JaquiK, alysongreaves, oneiros43, cyde, fraylin, Minalia, aceina, Calamity_Lizzie, RoxyArietis, Foxoftheasterisk, FullOfNuns, NiknakKitKat, Stenrik, Mabelfruit, Chumpersonable, Agogobell28, Lukkai, Sephirotho, and Mizuno Tenshi2 for reviewing! Your support means the absolute world to me, as always.

Please let me know what you think. Your feedback is incredibly valuable.

Love, Allie